#《 this post quickly devolved oh dear 》

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 4

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Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: Outreach Day is a verifiable disaster - our dear reader is ready to catch Larissa if she falls, and Larissa is falling alright - for reader, that is.

words: ~4k | ao3 link in title

chapter-specific warnings: none really, mostly fluff A/N: I am so sorry that it took so long to update this fic! I had to figure out where I was going with this and plot out the next chapters, and then I was very unhappy with this chapter for a very long time so I have been kind of just sitting on it. This one isn't my Finest work, however, I have done so many editing passes that I decided to just post it. Gotta get the story moving along, you know :')

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A warmth was quickly rising to your cheeks as Larissa spoke.

“Good,” you murmured, working to control your blush. “Because I really like you, Larissa.” Larissa’s eyes flooded with affection and you felt your breath hitch in your chest as she brought her fingertips up to stroke your jaw.

“My sweet one…” She sighed heavily. “If I don’t go now I’m afraid I’ll never leave.” She pulled away with an apologetic smile and rose to her feet. “Perhaps I can steal you away after the ceremony?”

“Yes,” you replied a little too fast, and you felt your fading blush spread once again as Larissa let out a chuckle. 

Squeezing your shoulder, the tall brunette disappeared towards the restrooms at the back of the Weathervane. A few moments later Larissa, back in her natural form, passed by you on her way to the exit, gloved fingertips grazing along the edge of the table you were seated at as a silent form of acknowledgement.

You finished the rest of your hot chocolate slowly, savoring the last drops whilst staring idly out the window and watching a group of people put the finishing touches on what you assumed to be the set-up for the ceremony. After a while, you could see Larissa come into view, deep in conversation with a man you’d never seen before - likely the mayor of Jericho.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, watching, but when the café had begun to clear out and Nevermore students and townspeople alike began to gather in the town square, you thought it must be nearly time for the ceremony and slipped out of your booth, heading towards the commotion.

The sun was shining as you settled in the back row of the risers that were set up, not wanting to intrude or be a distraction as Larissa attended to her professional duties. You twisted your hands in your lap, excited yet simultaneously nervous to see Larissa in her element.

A fountain topped with a bronze statue of Joseph Crackstone stood at the center of the town square. In front of that stood a small podium, to the right the Jericho High School marching band was settling into their seats. A young girl in a black and gray striped blazer sat off to the side with a cello between her knees. You assumed this was Larissa's student whom she had mentioned, though you thought it odd that her uniform was a completely different color from the rest of her class’.

A hush fell over the crowd as the mayor stepped up to the podium, with Larissa standing beside him - or, to be more precise, standing on the pavement beside him. You could barely contain your smirk when you noticed that, even like this, the mayor barely reached her towering height.

Mayor Walker began to address the crowd, and you shared a sweet, stolen glance with the object of your affections. Oh, how beautiful she looked, completely in her element, smiling brightly for the crowd and the camera. You couldn’t help how absolutely smitten you felt as you drank in her form, admiring the elegance and grace with which she presented herself.

The ceremony, however, soon turned into a complete disaster. Things had quickly taken a turn for the worse when the fountain had exploded with a loud crack, devolving the little town of Jericho into pure chaos. You’d quickly left the risers in search of cover, choosing to crouch behind a parked car as you searched the chaos for Larissa. When you finally caught sight of her, you could practically feel the white-hot anger radiating off her in waves as she glared at her student playing a frenzied cello piece without a care in the world.

As much as you wanted to reach out, to run over to her and soothe her, you could sense by her fixed gaze that now was not the time. At least, it seemed, she wasn’t physically injured. At that moment, Larissa whirled around and your gazes met. You could see the rage written plainly on her face, though it seemed she was working hard to control it as she stared back at you, nostrils flaring.

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and pointed to it before dropping your gaze and sending Larissa a text.

Y/N: Are you alright???

Larissa: Physically, yes. Are you?

Y/N: Yeah I’m fine. 

Y/N: I’m going to catch a ride with Robin… 

Y/N: Please text me if you need anything! I’ll talk to you later? :)

You looked up to find Larissa giving you a nod, her lips turning up at the corners. It wasn’t exactly a smile, honestly her expression still bordered on murderous, but it seemed to be a small sign of her appreciation of your concern for her.

~~~

You spent the rest of the afternoon flipping idly through your art history textbook under the pretext of studying, but your mind kept wandering back to Larissa, worry for her well-being clouding your thoughts. What would she be doing right now? Had she had a chance to breathe yet? Was she able to take a break from dealing with the chaos that had ensued?

Y/N: I hope everything is alright <3 thinking of you!

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your fingers hovered over the ‘send’ button. You didn’t want to come off as needy. But then again, hadn’t Larissa said earlier at the Weathervane that it was okay to text her? 

Fuck it. 

Send.

You didn’t hear back from her in the following hours. Not as you warmed up leftovers for dinner, not as you curled up on the couch next to Cassandra to watch The Devil Wears Prada, not as you brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas.

10:56 pm. Flicking off the lights, you snuggled into bed and pulled up the covers, the light from your phone screen illuminating your face as you scrolled through Instagram. 

A text popping up at the top of the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Larissa: Are you home?

Y/N: Yeah, why? Is everything okay?

Each minute that passed without a reply felt like a lifetime, your stomach dropping further and further with the radio silence. You tried to distract yourself with mindless scrolling but nothing piqued your interest - your thoughts were with Larissa, wondering what she could have meant. 

20 minutes later, you finally received a reply and relief flooded your body. Your heart began to pound as you read the text, excitement coursing through your veins.

Larissa: Can you come downstairs?

Was Larissa here? You threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, not bothering to get changed as you raced out of your apartment, grabbing your keys on the way out and nearly tripping down the steps as you rushed towards the parking lot.

There she was, much like before your first date, leaning against her parked car. From what you could make out in the dark, she was still wearing the plaid dress and gray coat she’d been wearing during the Outreach Day event. 

“Larissa,” you called out, thoroughly out of breath as you jogged towards her. Her head snapped up and she pushed herself off the car. You stopped in front of her, panting, and she leaned down and crashed her lips to yours in a bruising kiss. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all day,” she murmured against your lips. 

You deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth and feeling her sigh as her hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing possessively. 

When you pulled away, her breathing was ragged and her chest heaving. You looked up at her to search her face - she looked immaculate as always, but there was a clear exhaustion behind her eyes that you didn’t miss.

“I had to see that you were alright.” Larissa spoke softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you doing?” You wrapped your arms around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Larissa sighed, her fingers playing with a loose wave behind your ear.

“Today was a disaster,” she mumbled. “Everyone is absolutely furious… as they should be. I’ve been dealing with angry phone calls and emails all day.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I have my suspicions. And the fact that it may be the fault of a student of mine doesn’t bode well for Nevermore.” She sighed, no real bite behind her words anymore. Her eyes fluttered shut momentarily, her face falling in defeat.

“Let me guess, that girl with the braids who looked absolutely thrilled to be there?” you teased.

Larissa snorted. “That would be the one.”

“I’m sorry about that...”

“Don’t be. I wanted to thank you for coming today, it made me very happy - I mean before everything fell apart.” A sad smile crossed Larissa’s face and it made your heart sink in your chest - you resolved you would do anything to never see her so upset again. “You looked very beautiful at the ceremony,” you said softly. “You look very beautiful,” you amended.

“Sweet girl.” Larissa’s gloved hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into her touch. “May I hug you?”

You nodded and were immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug as Larissa pressed you tightly against her body. She buried her nose in your hair, inhaling deeply. You didn’t dare move a muscle, for fear of ruining the moment.

It wasn’t until a chill caused you to shiver that Larissa pulled back to look you up and down, taking in the thin fabric of your pajamas.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured before pulling you close again, rubbing her hands up and down your biceps in an attempt to warm you. “You’ll get sick if you stay out here much longer.”

You shrugged, burying your head under her chin. “You said to come downstairs… I wanted to see you.”

“I still have some things to take care of,” Larissa sighed as her hands found your head, fingers threading themselves through your hair and pushing you into her, as if trying to weld your bodies into one.

“Tonight? But it’s late.”

“I know. But this situation won’t fix itself.”

Larissa loosened her grip and you stepped back slightly, searching her face with a hint of a smug smirk on your own. “So you came all this way just to see me?”

Even in the dim light of the parking lot, you could swear you saw Larissa’s cheeks go pink. “I had to see for myself that you were alright... Is that okay?”

“That is more than okay, Rissa. I just thought you were ‘exceptionally bad’ at this?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Larissa giggled, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try,” she murmured playfully, leaning down to capture your lips in a languid kiss.

“Can I visit you tomorrow?” you whispered against her lips, your heart rate spiking as you waited for Larissa’s reply - nervous she would be too busy and say no.

“I would love that,” she whispered back.

~~~

It was raining when you pulled into a visitor’s spot at Nevermore the following day. You jogged up to the imposing building, shielding the cupcakes you had bought for Larissa from the rain, which had nearly soaked you to the bone in the brief time you’d been outside.

You navigated the halls of Nevermore by memory from the night you’d spent with Larissa, though you ended up taking a wrong turn somewhere (maybe you should’ve paid more attention, rather than watching Larissa the whole time she’d led you to her quarters) - you ended up having to ask a student for help. 

The hyper young blonde looked you eagerly up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on the cupcakes you were holding before agreeing chirpily and with a bright smile to walk you there.

The girl left you in front of the doors to Larissa’s office, adorned with a shiny gold plaque stating “PRINCIPAL WEEMS”, but not before shooting you another curious gaze that made you a bit nervous. You knocked on the door, waiting as you heard the faint click of heels against hardwood floors, then the creaking of the door as Larissa came into view. 

A bright smile lit up her face at the sight of you, morphing quickly into concern as she took in your disheveled appearance, absolutely soaked from the rain - hair sticking to the side of your face, sweater clinging messily to your body.

“Oh, darling, come in.” Concern laced her voice as she ushered you into her office. You heard the click of the lock as the door closed behind you.

“I b-brought you c-cupcakes,” you stated, teeth clattering from the cold seeping into your bones the longer you stood there in your wet clothes. You thrust your hands out in offering. “Y-you said you h-have a s-sweet tooth.”

Larissa looked between you and the cupcakes for a moment, eyes wide - you wondered if you’d overstepped, or if she was trying to find a way to tell you she hated cupcakes, but then she laughed - a full, belly laugh - and your heart soared.

“Thank you.” She grinned down at you and took the box from your hands, using her other hand to lace her fingers between yours and dragging you to the loveseat in front of the roaring fireplace. “Please, sit, let’s get you warmed up. I’ll be right back, love,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into her quarters. She returned moments later with a fluffy towel and some clothes.

“May I help you?” She looked almost shy - the idea of Larissa Weems being shy about anything made you giggle as butterflies erupted behind your navel.

“Of c-course.” You grinned up at her as she helped you remove your sweater and your t-shirt, then waited for you to kick off your shoes and peel off your jeans, leaving you in only your underwear. She dried off the damp bits of skin with the towel, careful to rub gently, lingering for a moment longer over your chest before blushing and dragging the towel across your stomach. 

Once dry you slipped into the clothes she’d brought you - a Nevermore Academy class of ‘91 shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, both items of clothing hanging awkwardly off your smaller frame.

You noticed the way her eyes darkened as she stepped back to regard you, her gaze roaming almost hungrily over your body. 

“See something you like?” you teased as you scrunched your wet hair with the towel. Larissa’s cheeks went pink, clearly flustered as she dropped her gaze to the floor, fidgeting in place.

You took a step towards her and wrapped your arm around her waist. You could hear her breath hitch at the contact and chose not to comment further, instead asking if you could kiss her. Larissa responded by dipping her head and pressing her lips to yours, hesitantly at first then more confidently, pushing her tongue into your mouth with little kitten licks that drew a whimper from your throat.

She broke the kiss and smiled down at you, brushing a wet curl off your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. “Will you sit with me for a while? I could use the break from work.”

You nodded fervently and settled back on the loveseat. Larissa sat next to you, pausing for a moment before scooting closer until your thighs pressed together. 

~~~

Larissa had nearly jolted out of her armchair when she’d heard your knock. After a near all-nighter (dragging herself reluctantly to bed at 4 am for 3 fitful hours of sleep) filled with damage control for Wednesday’s little stunt, coupled with a Sunday morning of responding to the emails she’d neglected the previous day, she was more than ready for a break. 

Now you were sitting on her sofa, in her clothes - the thought filled her with a lustful sort of possessiveness that she almost felt ashamed of. You were so tantalizingly unaware of your own appeal, of how much Larissa desired you. Not just sexually, though she did find herself at random moments missing your touch, craving the taste of you, yearning to feel herself inside of you again - but wholly. She longed every day to hear your voice, to see your bright smile as the first thing she woke up to in the morning, to get to know every part of you. She sometimes wondered if she wanted too much from you.

She tried not to get lost in her own thoughts and focus instead on your conversation.

“Cupcake?” you said brightly, reaching for the box of sweets, and Larissa couldn’t help the tinkering laugh that she let out at your childlike joy as a joyfulness of her own bubbled up within her, warming her from the inside out. She felt she could cry that you’d remembered her mention of her sweet tooth and had gone to the trouble of bringing her something - it had been far too long since anyone had done something so simple and kind for her without wanting anything in return, and her heart swelled.

She tried not to sound too eager when she said yes, though from your giggle she realized she hadn’t been all too successful. You wrapped your fingers delicately around one of the cupcakes - chocolate, with chocolate frosting - and brought it up to her mouth. Rather than taking it between her own fingers, Larissa leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the little cake and taking a large bite, feeling the frosting graze the tip of her nose.

Her stomach fluttered at your laugh, bringing a wide grin to her face as you reached out and swiped your thumb across her nose, collecting the stray frosting then bringing the digit to your mouth and wrapping your lips around it. Heat pooled in her core at the groan you let out, her eyes glued to your mouth as you sucked the frosting off your thumb.

Larissa couldn’t help herself - she closed the distance between the two of you, pressing her lips to yours and almost immediately deepening the kiss as she allowed her hands to rest on your thighs. She allowed herself to get lost in her senses - the taste of frosting on your tongue, the feeling of her soft sweatpants underneath her hands, the smell of your rain-dampened hair, the fluttering in her tummy. Her hands traveled up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you murmured - your breath tickled her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. Larissa pulled back in confusion, her brows knitting together as she searched your face. Then she yawned - she couldn’t hold it back any longer - and flushed as she realized exactly what you meant. 

“Told you,” you teased. Larissa felt her cheeks heat as you smirked at her. “How about we get you to bed?”

Larissa was ready to protest - she had been planning another all-nighter and really, she wasn’t that tired. But then she yawned again and found herself agreeing - “only if you stay the night.” She smiled, but the smile hid her nerves - she was worried she’d asked too much. 

“Okay.” You smiled back, brightly, and Larissa’s breath hitched in her chest. 

She stopped by her desk to switch off the lamp and close her laptop - guilt churned in her stomach when she saw all the emails waiting for her, but then she looked at the time - it was late and she was tired. Perhaps going to sleep and looking at them with a fresh mind in the morning wasn’t the worst idea. Then she looked up and saw you watching her with a smile, and she snapped the laptop shut.

Leading you to her quarters, she handed you an extra toothbrush and showed you where the towels were, then perched herself at her vanity to remove her makeup and take down her hair while she waited for you.

Larissa was almost ready for bed, having brushed her teeth over the kitchen sink, when she heard the shower turn off. The door to the bathroom creaked open and there you were, back in Larissa’s clothes, leaning against the doorframe and pulling a brush through your wet hair. 

“Thanks for letting me use your shower,” you said shyly.

Larissa chuckled. “You don’t have to thank me for that, darling. Come here.” She perched herself on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her, waiting for you to sit down. Once you did, she plucked the brush out of your hand and began to work her way through the tangles. The scent of her own shampoo in your hair - light and floral - filled her nostrils - it made her dizzy, and she found herself burying her nose in your hair, with one hand on your hip to ground herself.

Clearing her throat, she leaned back reluctantly and placed the brush on her nightstand. “There you are,” she murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’ll just get the lights.” She rose, flicking off the light in the bathroom and the overhead light for the bedroom, until the only source of light in the room was the glow of the lamp on her bedside table.

She climbed into bed next to you, settling under the covers and turning to face you. Her breathing stuttered - something about going to sleep with you, just sleep and nothing else, felt so intimate and domestic to her. Then you wrapped an arm around her waist and shimmied closer, and Larissa could rest her head against your chest. She could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong, and she felt her own restless pulse slowly calm to match yours.

~~~

You awoke in Larissa’s bed, but this time something was different - she was still there with you, her arm slung across your middle, a dead weight on your stomach. Turning your head to face her, you couldn’t help the sleepy smile that spread across your face as you drank in her appearance, lying on her stomach - disheveled locks of platinum hair falling across her face; the way her pale lips, devoid of her usual bold lipstick, hung open to let out deep breaths; the little puddle of drool collecting on her pillow that had you grinning like an idiot.

The urge to reach out and stroke Larissa’s cheek got stronger and stronger, until you twisted onto your side to face her, brushing a soft curl behind her ear and allowing your fingertips to linger on her cheekbone. Larissa let out a sigh, nuzzling her head into the pillow as she slowly blinked her eyes open. For a moment she looked disoriented, but then her eyes met yours and her lips curled into a smile.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice low and raspy with sleep - it might have been the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, and your entire body flooded with warmth. You pressed your lips to her own, relishing in the slow tenderness of the kiss. 

“Morning,” you whispered against her lips before kissing her again, deepening the kiss as you tugged her closer by the waist.

The sound of an alarm had Larissa pulling away and reaching over to her nightstand to grab her phone.

“What time is it?” you asked, playing with a stray curl that was draped over Larissa’s shoulder.

“7:30.” Larissa turned away from her phone screen to kiss you but you pulled back as dread began to course through your body. 

“Shit! I have class in half an hour!” You rolled out of bed, nearly tripping as the sheets tangled around your legs. “Are my clothes still in your office?”

“I think so.” Larissa pushed herself up and followed you into her office, attempting to shake off the feeling of disorientation as she watched you put on your jeans and sneakers.

“My sweater is still damp, is it okay if I just wear this?” you asked, tugging at the hem of the Nevermore Class of ‘91 t-shirt you were wearing. “I’ll give it back, I promise.”

“Of course, darling.” Larissa looked equal parts concerned and amused as you ran past her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before rushing out of her office, yelling “thank you, I’ll call you later” over your shoulder.

x

tags for those who seemed interested: @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @eveymay @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places

let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part or want me to remove the tags ✨

[magichcuse]

I was going to go to bed "early" (as early as someone with my messed up circadian rhythm can possibly sleep...and it's been nearly an hour since I started writing this post so there's no chance of me going to sleep early now rip), but I'm having a hard time sleeping I'm going to make this post about what fragments of myself I place in my OCs here because bleh. (This may or may not give insight to why I focus on some ocs more than others.)

Putting this warning in as I am in the middle of writing this post—below the cut is a clusterfuck and I suggest you scroll part this if you aren't emotionally prepared for it.

Franklin and Vivian are probably the most obvious projection characters I can think of rn. Not to the point of them being self insert characters, of course, but they're the two that immediately stick out to me.

Gonna start with Franklin because he's not as heavy to get into. I was a lot more like him in middle school (with some of Alroy's quirkiness because it was before I started feeling self conscious about being openly weird)—an introverted bookworm who was a doormat to a much more outgoing friend. (I had a falling out with that friend but eventually was on good enough terms to be their roommate in college so take that as you will.) There's also the feeling of being expendable—I've been trying to remind myself that I'm more important than I think I am, but I sometimes fall into the same pattern of "well, X has other friends that are probably less awkward than me" and "would they even notice if I stopped posting?". I didn't mean for this to get so heavy so quickly oh no.

Then there's Vivian...if I could place another readmore block under the first one, I would.

Vivian's home life isn't completely like mine—Patrick developed traits from both of my parents while I decided to make Kathleen more stable to balance things out. Intentionally leaving things vague because this is a blog post and not a therapy session, but the "feels like they ruined their parent's (or parents') lives by coming into existence" and hiding issues/handling everything on their own to avoid burdening others (this is also a Franklin trait, but I think he's more likely to eventually reach out for help bc he has more of a support system while Vivian waits for everything to crumble around her before she even considers reaching out) aspects are more reliable than I want to admit. Vivian became even more relatable once I introduced the plot line of her having power drained from her—the frustration of not being as productive as I want to be and wondering how I'm ever supposed to function in society. Her depression (ie. numbed emotions—it's easier for me to emote online, but even when I'm hyped about something irl I'm like "it's alright I guess" or just "cool") and hypervigilance (I get spooked by the sound of dishes clanging together or my parents loudly talking to each other even if they aren't actually fighting—the perks of having an auditory processing disorder—because I have negative associations...my mother claims it's PTSD, but that doesn't feel right because I associate PTSD with vivid flashbacks and I don't get those because awful memory...it's more like a Pavlov's dog thing except with anxiety??) also feel relevant to me.

And to lighten the mood (+ because I'm too drained rn to go down the list of all my magic OCs), a quick round of other themes that were/are a part of this blog that are relevant in my life:

Perfectionism

Anxiety about academics (to the point where I'm afraid of even looking at my grades because just thinking about them makes me feel sick...this has bitten me in the ass before but I still haven't gotten over it)

Anxiety in general

Wanting to be free from expectations

Not feeling in control of their own life

ADHD

Neurodivergence in general (idk how many of my ocs on this blog specifically I've explicitly headcanoned to be autistic—there's Hal, Nettie, lowkey Emil, and maybe Marion on the other bird blog—but there's definitely some autistic coded characters here whether I intended it to be that way or not)

Love of music (I was more musically inclined in my youth—I wanted to be a famous singer when I was really little and used to post myself singing on my older blogs; I'm not an expert in any musical instruments though...I was going to learn how to play guitar and taught myself basic af songs on the piano but that's it. Oh! And I had the obligatory recorder lessons back in my early school days)

Wanting to escape

Parental issues in general (I don't set out to recreate my home environment to a tee bc why would I want that, but I incorporate certain elements from it for catharsis)

Fear of failure

Some ocs randomly inherited interests of mine (vintage fashion for Breanna, lockpicking for Kathleen, and Ebony's was rollercoasters but that evolved into thrill seeking in general? All of these interests have yet to extend past watching videos on YouTube as of rn)

Being queer

Close bond with animal companion

Idk what else rn I'm so tired

[beelsnack]

Hi! I love your blog❣ Can I request a brother + undatables ( if you do that) reaction with a very obedient mc? Like they do everything they've been asking and stuff? Thank you in advance!❣❣

Aw, thanks a bunch, Nonnie! This will be a good test for me, since I usually end up writing snarky characters who fight authority. I hope you like it!

I’m going to stick this under a cut because it, uh, got away from me a little bit. I didn’t even do all of the undateables and I was over 3k. ^^”

Lucifer: “I’m sorry to keep piling tasks on you.”

With a grunt, the human set the heavy stack of books down on the table in Lucifer’s study. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Lucifer let his professional mask slip for just a second to smile warmly at them. “If only my brothers were as agreeable as you.”

“At least they provide entertainment.” they laughed. “What are all these books, anyway?”

“Old spell books,” he removed the top book off of the stack, unleashing a cloud of dust that sent the human into a coughing fit. “In desperate need of some maintenance.”

“That sounds more like Satan’s territory.” they rasped as the couching subsided.

“It usually is, but I don’t need to give him any more ideas for his curses.” despite his words, there was a glint of fond humor is his eyes. “If you aren’t busy, could you give me a hand with these?”

“Sure!” they took a seat in the armchair across from Lucifer. “I’ve been studying all day, so I ind of need a break.”

“Oh? An dutiful helper and a diligent student?” he hummed, smoothing out the crease of a page that had been marked with a dog-ear. “I may just have to reward you.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Hm...” he pinned them with a heavily-lidded stare. “Anything you want. What kind of reward do you desire?”

“...Ice cream!”

Lucifer couldn’t hold back his surprised snort before he quickly devolved into laughter. “My, but you do know how to surprise me, my dear. Very well, a trip to Madam Scream’s as a reward, then.”

Mammon: They looked really tired.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Promise!” Asmo was tugging insistently on their sleeve like a child begging for their parent’s attention. “You’ve never been to a club like the Fall, I guarantee it. It’s the perfect place to get up to something naughty ~”

Alright, that’s it.

“Oi, Asmo!” Mammon rounded on the other demon. “Quit trying to drag the human along with your gross BS!”

“Oh, but it’s fine when you do it?” Asmo shot back, amber eyes narrowing. “At least I’m not conning people out of cash.”

“Whatever!” Mammon grabbed onto the human’s upper arm, shaking Asmo’s hands off of their sleeve. “Come on, human, I need you to help me with somethin’.”

“Whoa, okay, um...maybe next time Asmo.” they managed to get out before Mammon dragged them into his room and slammed the door.

He was muttering under his breath so quickly and quietly that the human could just barely make out a few phrases. “...fuckin’ Asmo...advantage of...where does he get off...”

“Uh, Mammon?” they asked hesitantly. “You said you needed my help with something?”

“Huh?” he whipped around, looking slightly startled. “Oh. Nah, I was just sayin’ that so Asmo would let you go.”

They blinked, tilting their head like a puppy. “Why would you do that?”

“Come on, human, don’t lie to me,” he rolled his eyes, hands on hips. “You don’t want to go clubbing after spending the day running around like Lucifer’s little servant, do ya? You look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Instinctively, their hand shot up to beneath their eyes, where there were some pretty prominent bags. “...Do I look that bad?”

Mammon flinched. “No! That’s not - I didn’t mean - ya look tired!” he scratched at the back of his neck. “It’ll look bad on me if you keel over from exhaustion, and since you can’t seem to say no to anyone, I’m gonna have to do it for you!”

For a moment, they just stared at him. Then, slowly, a big grin spread across their face and they stepped forward to wrap their arms around his middle. They only came up to his collarbone, and he was suddenly very aware of this fact.

“Thank you, Mammon.”

“F-For what?”

They laughed, squeezing him a little bit tighter. “For looking out for me.”

He stilled for a moment before resting his chin on top of their head and returning the hug. “’S my job, ain’t it?”

Leviathan: Knock-knock-knock.

“What’s the password?”

“I’ve got your Akuzon order.”

Levi practically ripped his door off of the hinges as he flung it open. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, omg!” he was already ripping the box open, leaving the door open in his excitement.

“What did you get?” the human asked, poking their head in the doorway.

“The anime adaptation for I’m A Human Who Accidentally Enrolled In A University For Monsters But They’re The Only School That Has My Major So I Guess I’ll Stick It Out! Anime based off of dating sims usually aren’t that great, but I loved the game so much!”

They laughed. “We played it together, remember? We had that big debate on the order we should do the routes.”

“Right, yeah, we did!” Levi paused for a moment, looking down at the cover, and then back up at the human with a slightly blush on his cheeks. “Hey, um…since you went and picked it up for me, and, like, you were just as into the game as I was, so…maybe, um, you would want to watch it with me?”

“Really?” they blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah, marathons are always better with friends.” Levi was already popping the first disk in. “Hey, go get some snacks!”

Satan: “Oh, you’re still working?”

The human glanced down at him from their position at the top of the ladder, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s taking me a bit longer than I thought.”

Lucifer has asked them to clean the library earlier that day. Well, not just them - Mammon was supposed to help, but he had oh-so-conveniently remembered that he had something else very urgent that he needed to take care of. So, here they were, five hours later.

Honestly, the library wasn’t even that dirty. But it was quite a large room, far too large for a human to clean by themself.

Satan sighed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing I made a pit stop on the way home, then.” he set down the cardboard drink carrier in his hands. “Come down for a moment, will you?”

“Ah, yeah, just give me a sec.”

Satan heard the slight clattering of wood against wood, and looked up to the the ladder swaying slightly. The human was carefully picking their way down, seemingly painfully aware of the instability.

“Oh, here, I’ve got it.” one hand on the side of the ladder was enough to steady it, and he heard them let out a sigh of relief as they clambered down the rest of the way.

“Thanks, Satan.” they said as their feet touched the ground. “I didn’t realize it was shaking until I was already on it.”

“Mention it to Lucifer, he’ll do something about it.” Satan replied, brushing a bit of dust out of their hair. “Come on, I brought you some coffee.”

They followed him over to the table, and their eyes lit up when they saw the logo on the bag. “Starbats! Yes, thank you so much!”

“Did I get your order right?” he asked, plucking his own drink out of the carrier. “I was pretty sure, but…”

“Perfect, as always.” they beamed. “You’re the best, Satan.”

“Hey, come on, now,” there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re the one who does everything around here. Buying you coffee is the least I can do.”

Asmodeus: “Well? How did it turn out?”

The human stared at their D.D.D, brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the picture they had just taken. Asmo had texted them frantically, telling them to hurry because the light in his room was just perfect for a photoshoot and he needed a full-body shot.

“I mean, it looks good to me, but you’ve nixed every shot I’ve taken so far…”

“Let me see it then,” he hopped up from the chaise lounge that he had elegantly draped himself over. His silk bathrobe just barely covered all of the essential parts, and the human had to make it a point not to stare. Not that Asmo would mind in the slightest, but still.

“This is it, darling, this is the one!” he pressed an affectionate kiss to the side of their head. “You’re a quick learner, I knew it. Text this to me, okay? I’ll tag you on Devilgram, promise!”

“Glad I could help.” they laughed as they began making their way out of Asmo’s room.

“Hm…wait a minute.”

The paused just in front of the door. Maybe there was an issue with the picture after all? They bit at their lip, ready to question Asmo, but he pressed his deceivingly strong hands against their shoulders and shoved gently.

“Go stand by the window for a second…mm, no, not quite, sit down for me…”

Confused, they obeyed his orders. They placed themself on the window seat, one of those fancy three paneled setups with a bench in the middle.

Out of habit, they turned to look out the window. Asmo was right, it was pretty out. The full moon cast a silvery glow over everything, but it was low enough in the lavender sky that it cast long, creepily elegant shadows all over the garden below. The whole landscape just screaming Gothic novel.

For just a moment, they forgot about Asmo and turned fully to gaze out at the scenery. The Devildom was always pretty in a morose sort of way, but very rarely did they get the chance to appreciate it. They shifted to get more comfortable on the window seat, pulling their knee to their chest and wrapping their arms around it while the other foot kept their balance on the floor.

“Perfect!”

When they whipped around in shock, Asmo was grinning victoriously. “Look, look, this is perfect!”

“Did…did you just take a picture of me?”

“Mhm!” Asmo bounded over to their side and handed them his D.D.D. When had he picked it up? His robe didn’t have pockets. Shaking their head, they looked down at the photo.

“...Oh wow…”

“Right?” Asmo cooed. “Don’t you look absolutely stunning? That longing stare, the way you smile, you look like the protagonist in a paranormal romance”

They blinked down at the picture. “Can…you text this to me?”

“Of course, darling.” he said. “Oh, but let me post it to Devilgram, okay? I want everyone to be jealous of me.”

He plucked his phone out of their hands, stealing a quick kiss from their lips.

“Well call this a reward for being good and obeying orders, okay?”

Beelzebub: “Where are we going?”

It was their lunch hour at RAD, but Beel was taking them in the opposite direction. He had asked the human to come with him, but hadn’t explained where they were going. He had just linked their hands together and smiled down at them, saying it was a surprise.

Finally, he pushed open a door that lead to one of the many internal courtyards. Rose bushes scented the air around them, and a stone path led to the middle of the courtyard where a gazebo stood. As they approached, they saw an amazing array of food spread out on a blanket.

“Beel…?”

“My brothers had you running around the whole weekend.” he said, running his thumb over the back of their knuckles. “You were so busy last night you didn’t get to make your lunch for today. So I asked Barbatos to make lunch for us.”

“Aw, Beel!” they wrapped their arms around his middle and squeezed. “You’re so sweet. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I should be thanking you for taking care of us.” Beel hugged them bag, almost painfully gently so as not to squish them. “My brothers don’t appreciate you nearly as much as they should.”

“It’s fine, Beel, I don’t mind it.”

“I do, though.”

They backed away from the hug a little to look up at Beel, brows furrowed. They were about to say something, but, as usual, the moment was interrupted by a growl from his stomach. The confused expression broke into a grin, and they rejoined their hands, tugging him forward. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Belphegor: Finally, they were alone.

It was rare that Belphegor got to spend any alone time with the human. It almost made him miss being hidden away in the attic, if only for the privacy. But, today was apparently his lucky day, because when he had finally managed to drag himself out of bed, he stumbled - quite literally, he was struggling to keep both eyes open - into the human on their way back to their room.

“I mean, I’m going to be studying, but if you want to come over, you can.”

“You say that like I’m not going to be sleeping.”

They laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. He really liked their laugh, especially when it was genuine.

He was almost home free. They had just made it up the stairs when -

“There you are!”

…Damn it.

“Oh, hey Asmo.” they greeted the other demon, smiling at him. “What’s up?”

“I left my makeup bag at RAD!” Asmo wailed like someone had just kicked his pet hell hound. “I have a date tonight, and I need to get in the bath, which you know is a solid two hour process. Do you think you could be a dear and run and grab it for me?”

The human was going to agree. Belphie could see it in their eyes. They didn’t want to, clearly, but that naturally agreeable disposition usually won out in these scenarios.

“Go get it yourself, Asmo.” he drawled, draping himself over their shoulder. “You’re a grown demon, aren’t you?”

“But - “

Belphegor straightened up from his perpetual slouch, one hand remaining on the human’s shoulder while he shouldered his way past Asmo. His shrieks of irritation were abruptly cut off when Belphie slammed the door to the human’s room behind him.

“What was that for, Belphie?” the human asked.

“You were going to do it.” he shrugged. “Even though you didn’t want to.”

“Well…”

Belphie made his way over to the bed, flopping down on his side with an oh-so-graceful thwump. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“I don’t understand me sometimes either.” they sighed, folding their arms. “It’s like, I feel guilty for saying no even if I’m perfectly within my rights. I don’t know why.”

“Eh…” Belphie hummed, sitting up a little bit. “Well, since you can’t seem to say no, I might as well take advantage of that.”

They recoiled a little bit at the wording, but he continued, opening his arms. “Let me cuddle you.”

For a moment, they were silent, and Belphie worried he might have put his foot in it. But, slowly, a smile tugged at their lips, and they clambered into bed with him. With a soft, contented sigh, they snuggled against his chest.

“It’s about time someone else took care of you, you know?”

Diavolo: “Lucifer needs to stop making you deliver his reports for him.”

The human laughed as they handed Diavolo they manila folder containing Lucifer’s paperwork. “I don’t mind it. The scenery at the castle is amazing to look at, it gives me an excuse to walk around a little bit.”

Diavolo grinned down at them. “Always so positive! You truly do brighten the room, my dear.” his molten gold eyes shined with a bit of mischief as he extended an arm to them. “Shall I make the trip worth your while? If you love the scenery near the entrance, you’ll be absolutely enchanted with everything else.”

“Oh,” their eyes widened slightly. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” he beamed when they hesitantly linked their arm through his. “Honestly, you have enough on your plate without Lucifer using you as a mule.”

“I told you, Lord Diavolo, I don’t mind it.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he replied, leading the two of them through a door that lead to a courtyard with a rose maze. “But I didn’t bring you here to be a servant. It’s unworthy of him to take advantage of your agreeable nature, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.”

“I mean…” they glanced around the courtyard, avoiding Diavolo’s painfully earnest eyes. “The brothers let me stay at the House of Lamentation, so helping out wherever I can is the least I can do, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like you’re intruding.” there was a hint of laughter in Diavolo’s voice as he expertly guided the two of them through the maze. “You were deposited here with nothing but the clothes on your back, the fact that you’re thinking about paying them back is astonishing.”

He paused. They had reached the center of the maze, stopping just beneath a great stone statue of what the human assumed was a previous king, or maybe even the current one. Diavolo turned to face them and took their hand in his large one, bringing their knuckles to his lips while never breaking eye contact.

“It’s one of the many things I find so charming about you.”

[hoodoo12]

Festival (28/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @saucymangos @go-commander-kim @beetlebitchywitch

Kadus' mouth was so close to hers she could taste his breath, and Pink shivered as his cock pumped gush after thick gush of his come. She allowed her belly to swell to accommodate every drop he gave her, filling her distended uterus like a balloon.

She moaned low in her throat at the feeling of him coming inside her, and managed just barely to answer him.

"Yes--fuck, yes I'm coming!" she whimpered, holding his head to hers and kissing him hungrily. Her tongue swirled around his own and she sucked tenderly at his mouth with her own. Her lower half bobbed on his cock, keeping him deep inside her as she did so.

Soft hands stroked his rear and thighs, massaging his balls as well while Pink tensed around him almost impossibly with a tiny cloud of pink flowers bursting from her locks and peppering the ground beneath them.

Kadus returned her kiss as best he could, panting through the last stages of his orgasm. This time he was able to watch her as she let herself go with pleasure, her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted and shiny, the minute changes in expression as she focused on herself for a moment instead of him. The flowers that continued to burst from her made him chuckle, although her cunt milking him made it quickly devolve to another gasp. He’d never seen anything so lovely.

There was a slight tremble in his flanks and limbs and he could feel patches of sweat on him as if he’d just run a race, but he held steady while Pink luxuriated in her climax. She still managed to hold in his come, although he could easily see her belly was distended. Reverently, he massaged her abdomen where he could reach. In stages, his cock softened and slipped from her. Although the sun wasn’t quite up yet, it was closer than not. People were beginning to say final fare wells, and the clearing was not as crowded as it had been throughout the night. Imps tried to get a last taste of come before they disappeared, but he stamped his hind hooves to keep them off the tip of his leaking cock and away from his lover.

“I hate to say this, but we haven’t much time,” he murmured near her ear.

⁂

The sudden addition of hands at his knees a cool tongue at his balls caused Beej to tremble and whine, though he made no move to pull away. Carmen's cunt was squeezing so tightly around his tip and nudging herself down his length just a bit while the pressure inside her pushed down on him.

It took him a moment to decide to shorten his cock, though the girth remained the same. He adjusted himself so that Carmen could writhe and buck to her heart's content without injuring her inner walls by taking too much.

Shakily, one hand extended from behind him, cupping the back of BJ's head in invitation as he continued to lap at the base of Beej's cock and over Jessie's soaked cunt and ass.

Jessie jolted slightly at the unexpected cool of her lover's tongue, having been so focused on the throbbing clit in her mouth. His praising words only deepened the pleasure she felt once they settled into her brain, the attention to her needy body pushing her so very close to the edge it was all she could do to continue to focus.

The rush of slick and come that seeped around Beej's cock was warm against her skin, and dribbled down over Beej's shaft and sack. She rutted herself against this the fluid-covered cock and arched her back to expose herself more readily to BJ's tongue.

Finally, she released Carmen with a loud moan, resting her forehead beside her clit to continue the transfer of sensations as she came, cunt and ass twitching against BJ's tongue as she held on for dear life to the cock beneath her.

It swelled a bit as Beej lost the battle of holding himself together. His balls raised and his taint twitched as thick come rushed through his cock and into his lover once more. With just enough awareness to realize she was already overfilled, he changed the shape of his shaft, denting the top of it to allow the excess spend to seep out beneath his cock and flow down to drip to the ground below.

Carmen wrested her hands away from their soft restraint and held her stomach. “I c-can’t, I can’t--please, Beej, oh god--”

Although hard pleasure still lit every nerve, the amount of come in her became too much. A deep ache made her sob; luckily, through his own pleasure Beej understood and shifted his cock enough to provide some release. She sobbed quietly again as the pressure lessened. He’d been so accommodating with her aphrodisiac-fueled requests, but she’d reached her body’s limits.

Jessie’s peaking pleasure made him groan even as he refused to take his tongue off her. She’d wanted to take some fairy food home, but BJ couldn’t imagine anything as delicious as her; she was all the treat he needed. His lover rutted against the shaft below her, even as come leaked out of the stretched pussy she’d been so eager to taste. BJ knew she probably reveled in the fact she’d brought both of them to orgasm, and it didn’t surprise him to hear her laugh at the rush of come that flowed partially over her.

What was more difficult was to abid by her request and not let the domino effect take him as well. His balls felt tight and his cock felt impossibly hard. If he’d been alive he knew it’d be deep in color from the restriction. It’d feel so good to just let go, but he knew it’d feel even better with the tight heat of her cunt.

With a groan, BJ gave her one last harsh lap between her legs. Jessie slid a little forward in the slick come but he heard her gasp and giggle, then he straightened back up. The trio before him lazed in a post-euphoric daze, but he cast a quick glance around. It was clearing out; most of the fey was disappearing with the crowning dawn. There were less witches too, and the ones still there were getting dressed, hugging, and saying good-bye. The minotaur was still by the fire, watching them, and Beej’s clone was wrapped up with a centaur? It almost looked like she’d been bringing him back but got caught up with one last tryst.

The only beings that still seemed numerous were the imps; several still hung around like over-sized moths, waiting for an opportunity to try and get close to spend gentitals again. Others were lapping at the ground in various spots, and squabbling with one another if there was an area saturated with come. BJ chuckled, watching them. It was a good distraction from his throbbing cock and his pent up release.

⁂

With her eyes fluttering slightly, Pink took a moment to comprehend the words spoken so close to her ear. She leaned her body against his, holding him as she trembled and spasmed around the heavy wombful of come that she held. She willed her body to shorten once more to her typical dimensions, dragging herself along his underside and his front as she resumed her original frame, smaller than his own upper torso.

The amount of his spend that she held bulged her stomach out as though she were in the later stages of pregnancy. Every aspect of her besides was equally changed, the grayish palor of her skin had a deeper tone, the magenta dusting of her cheeks remained and her hair, lush and longer than normal wove into curls as it mingled with the vines and flowers that sprouted and continued to leave pink petals raining around her in sparse quantities.

Pink looked down at herself, pressed slightly away from him by the increased girth of her come-bloated belly, and giggled softly. Her hands moved to the top and bottom of the swell, thinking that the form she’d achieved was… oddly satisfying. She had never had delusions of motherhood--she was incomplete in too many ways and dead as well. She had also never attended a fertility celebration before, or been filled with such a large amount of living seed. It warmed her inside still, the second load cooling slowly within her tepid body.

“It’s true . . . come, I would at the least like you to meet . . . well, I suppose the rest of me,” she answered in a matching tone. Leaning in, she kissed him again briefly as though she couldn’t possibly get enough of his touch. This seemed even more the case as she turned herself to float with him, arm in arm, toward Beej and Carmen and their company.

⁂

The tugging at his limbs with which he held his lover in place so she could more fully enjoy what appeared likely to be the last orgasm of the celebration made Beej almost chuckle. It was difficult to acknowledge how deeply glad he was that she could enjoy herself so fully, especially in front of others and even with strangers when he was throttled by throes of ecstasy that seemed too expansive, too involved and extraneous for him to keep up with them. It felt for all the world like he had a pussy right in that moment, grinding a throbbing, aching clit against something cool and velvety, the pleasure hot and abrupt.

There was also the distinct sensation of the tip of his half-flaccid and now oddly shaped cock still holding the majority of his come inside Carmen, the rushes of fluid that pushed forward into her and forced still more out. He felt the tears dripping from her cheek to his shoulder and halted himself with a groan. It was almost painful, closing off the flow of come that was abnormally copious with the shape he’d taken, but he did so to keep her from being hurt, and he smiled when she seemed to feel the relief he sought to offer. Tipping his head back, he continued to hold her gently but firmly in place as Jessie’s pleasure radiated through them.

Jessie shivered, covered in sticky fluids and still tingling in the aftershocks of bliss. Her lips were drawn into a loopy smile. Finally pulling away from Carmen and turning to look toward BJ, she reined herself in once more and popped over to his shoulder to hug his neck and give him affectionate kisses. She was glad that in her vanishing from Beej’s cock, the warm fluid that had covered her was left behind, though the idea of having spread some onto him as well made her giggle.

“Thank you babe. I promise, I’ll take every single drop as deep in my pussy as you can put it, just as soon as I’m the proper size again. Can’t be much longer now, can it?” she purred into his ear, impressed that he appeared to have kept his word to hold off.

She wouldn’t have blamed him, of course, but it made her warm and achy beyond the dull fatigue of having fucked so very much. The novelty of the night had worn off mostly, and as fueled and excited as she was by all things new and exciting she had found her peak so many times it was impossible not to feel a bit worn.

The sound of hoofprints nearby made her turn her attention toward the clearing, surprised to see a centaur and . . . what appeared to be a female version of the guy whose cock she had just rutted on? She did a double-take between the flower-laden newcomer and the magenta-haired ghost holding Carmen cradled against himself.

As Beej noticed his clone approaching with company, he looked both surprised and delighted, and straightened his positioning to hold the both of them more upright. The multitude of limbs he’d sprouted dwindled, most retreating into his flesh once more save for two sets of arms. Three of them held Carmen securely to his chest and stomach, and he waved with the other a little in greeting.

“Yer--”

“Covered in flowers?” Pink asked, finishing the observation with a giggle.

Beej had been about to say ‘pregnant’, but her break in his thoughts helped him recall that that would be impossible. Still, she’d both approached her playmate of choice and brought him back for introductions! He was oddly proud of his clone--of this usually timid and repressed portion of himself.

“Kadus, this is Beej--he’s the one of whom I am a part,” she explained, turning to glance at her kindly lover. “And this is our lover, Carmen.” She continued fondly, unable to keep herself from looking back over the beautiful body cradled against her original. “And I’d like both of you to meet Kadus. He’s been so lovely, very accepting and kind.”

tbc . . .

[razanartuk]

about me tag game thing

i was tagged by the wonderful @nothingunrealistic! thank you very much ily <3

under read more bc i was not capable of keeping my answers brief this time around

why did you choose your url?

this...was supposed to be a short explanation but it turned into quite a tale so strap in i guess because we are going on a ride. back in 2017 i was just getting into musical theatre rp and i was still feeling too shy to really talk to anyone ooc so i would just wait for people i wanted to interact with to post starter calls so i could just do things in character with them the easy way. So i did this with my friend cam, who posted a starter for me using a lyric from If I Could Tell Her. she linked the song so i could listen to it, so i did and i went ‘wait a minute, is that Ben Platt from Pitch Perfect?? (and other things too, but i only recognized his voice at the time bc of the acappella girl movies)’ and yes it certainly was.

i had zero idea what the plot of Dear Evan Hansen was about at that point, and for some reason based off Just That One Song and the poster art of who i assumed was Some Guy in a Polo Shirt i started to think it was about some jock guy who broke his arm and had an emo/goth friend who had either died or gone missing under mysterious circumstances. also i intuited that Evan had a crush on his friend’s sister but he couldn’t tell her that directly or his emo friend would kick his ass. so i was like mostly wrong, but a little bit right.

oh and i knew jared and alana were characters from the show bc cam said that they were i think?? but i had no idea what their role was. so after listening to if i could tell her, i listened to good for you and all i really got out of that was that evan the apparently not-jock guy had done...something... that really hurt jared and alana. and at that point i finally decided to go look up a plot synopsis and i found out i was waaay off base. but honestly this is why cast recordings should include scene dialogue in the songs bc otherwise you just get soundtracks like dear evan hansen where the songs have like. zero context. we really just go from waving through a window to for forever to sincerely me without like. any reason as to what is happening huh. It’s honestly not a surprise anymore that all those people on twitter had no idea the plot isn’t about gay teenagers.

anyways. cam was writing jared and she made a post at one point about wishing somebody would write alana and i was like ‘oh i could do that!’ (after i had actually Seen a bootleg and finally knew what the whole story was, of course) so i made a multimuse rp blog featuring alana beck, nabulungi hatimbi, chloe valentine and some other characters, and cam started sharing her headcanons with me that alana is trans, jared and alana were close friends when they were little kids but they sort of drifted apart as they got older and their priorities in life changed, jared was the first person alana came out to when she realized she’s trans, etc.

one night i started talking about wanting to pick a more theatre-relevant url for my blog and trans-[character name] urls were getting pretty popular, and at least 3 of the friends i made through rp had changed theirs to coordinating trans-[character name] and i think it was cam suggested i should make mine be trans-alana so i did. eventually i realized the unhyphenated version was available so i changed it to transalana with no hyphen and i have lived here ever since. sometimes i think about changing it but i feel like transalana has become a part of My Brand and i am not so great with coming up with cool names for things.

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

in theory, i have sideblogs... i don’t really use them, but of the ones i do have, there is:

emsbookblog - this was supposed to be where i would post excerpts of the book that i’m working on, but i think i did that maybe one time roughly 2 years ago and then promptly forgot about it/got nervous about my writing and was scared to share anything else. the rest of the stuff that is there is assorted writing tips. i don’t really know what to do with it now. i probably should post all my little thoughts about em and anita and caleb there instead of infodumping on my main from time to time, but if i do that then i have to promo a sideblog and direct people over to it which is always annoying to me when i could just do it on this blog which is much easier

dearnovelhansen - this is basically no longer used, but was a sideblog i made specifically to talk/complain about the novel adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen which was about 3 years ago?? maybe? i can’t be trusted to understand the passage of time. but to summarize: i thought it was an honor just to have the story be made more accessible since many of us couldn’t see the stage performance, but i hated a lot of the creative liberties that were taken. my main grumbles are that everyone who isn’t evan or connor is done so dirty in the novel. connor’s still kind of done dirty in the book, but not as much as like. heidi, alana, jared, and zoe are.

horseisle3 - this one was meant to be a place where i could just enthusiastically post screenshots from hi3, but instead it turned into a blog where i occasionally reblog other players’ hi3 content and bitch about how bad the game admins are bc hi3 is the tumblr famous (infamous?) homophobic horse game. the game where it was once okay to call your club store the gulag bc according to their head of hr, ‘it’s just a russian word for prison’ but you can’t say ‘im gay’ without somebody accusing you of corrupting young children who play the game. unfortunately there aren’t very many good interactive horse games out there, so this one is still about as good as it gets. it’s either that or star stable and i don’t care about star stable.

mlaenie - i’ve had this url saved for i don’t even know how long. way way way back in the day when i wanted to escape from the clutches of the onceler fandom i abandoned my first blog where i basically had an alter ego i guess?? and i decided to just be myself on the new blog. i don’t fully remember who came up with it, but one of my sister’s mutuals suggested that if you scrambled the letters in your name you could come up with aesthetic-looking urls. so lauren’s url became lrauen, and to match with her mine became mlaenie, which i abandoned on tumblr after about a year or so? but have continued to use as my main username on twitter, reddit, youtube, xbox, steam, and discord. i barely ever use any of these accounts aside from twitter, steam, and xbox, but yeah. so i’ve decided to try and turn this empty sideblog into a place for video game thoughts maybe. we’ll see how long it lasts this time around.

how long have you been on tumblr?

i made my first tumblr account in december of 2010, but i didn’t understand how to use it at all or how to customize my theme to look cool and unique so i quickly abandoned it. i made a new account in september of 2011 after some kids at school and my sister told me i should and i have been trapped here with varying degrees of activity/inactivity ever since. i have witnessed the rise and fall of the lorax/onceler fandom, hyperfocused on lord of the rings, star wars and back to the future all at the same time, and for the past 4 years i’ve mostly been a musical theatre blog with assorted other fandom stuff mixed in. i feel i have seen everything and nothing, but mostly i’m just tired and bored.

do you have a queue tag?

no bc i don’t use a queue. i’ve tried using it in the past but i irrationally feel pressured to sustain a coherent theme to queued posts and my brain simply does not vibe with that so i just don’t use it at all anymore. Instead i instantly reblog or post several unrelated thoughts in succession and then don’t post again at all for 3 days. the way god intended

why did you start your blog in the first place?

my very first blog was intended to be a place for me to post all of my petz 5 animals’ profile info, but i didn’t have any understanding of how coding worked at all and i don’t think i really wanted to learn, either. so it just sat there, unused. my second attempt at blogging was as a classic rock fandom person, so as you can probably imagine i was pretty pretentious about ‘modern pop’ vs the beatles, the rolling stones, the who, the monkees, and so on. and then i slowly devolved into a lorax fandom blog and everything went to shit so i made a new blog for lord of the rings/the hobbit which later evolved to include star wars and back to the future blogging. and then for the past 4 years i’ve been mainly a musical theatre blog with other random stuff i like thrown haphazardly into the pot. wonderful.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

because my url is transalana and two of my most prominent lgbt headcanons are that alana beck is trans and a lesbian. i gotta be shouting out @kinqmike though bc she’s the one i adopted the trans alana beck headcanon from in the first place!

why did you choose your header?

in 2017 i was hyperfixating on Dear Evan Hansen (and Be More Chill, but there weren’t many gif-able videos then considering it ran for a month in New Jersey in 2015 and there was only one yet-to-resurface 35 minute bootleg) so i just grabbed a random gif off of google. i really should get to replacing it with a new header of my own though. i just don’t know what i should do for it.

what’s your post with the most notes?

i have lost track of how many notes it has (i think it’s somewhere around 200 now?) but when Will Roland and George Salazar performed Two Player Game on Good Morning America, i posted a screencap of their Jeremy and Michael along with that one quiz answer meme that says stuff like ‘i want to see it grow up healthy’. i didn’t tag it with any ship names or anything because i was anxious about having it show up in the tags, but somebody who reblogged it from me did tag it as boyf riends and i firmly believe it took off because of that. i don’t think i make posts that are relevant enough to amass thousands of notes, even by accident. which is probably a good thing bc if i did i would have to block so many of them.

how many followers do you have?

on this blog? 175 according to the counter. how many of those are still real people and how many are bots and abandoned accounts? i have no idea.

how many people do you follow?

i try to keep it somewhere around 200. i think i’m sitting at 180 right now but i kind of need to go through and clear out the really inactive blogs.

have you made a shitpost?

let’s think about this for a second. i’ve been on tumblr for nearly 10 years. you might even be able to say i’ve made more than one. they’re just not what you would call...popular shitposts.

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

that stuff makes me so incredibly anxious that i have to fight the urge to want to yeet my laptop or mobile device through the closest window whenever i read it, so i try very hard to avoid any sort of ‘if you don’t reblog this, i’m judging you’ posts. i find them very manipulative and not particularly helpful

do you like tag games?

yeah babey!! i just frequently forget to do them, but please know that if you have ever tagged me in a tag game i felt incredibly touched by the gesture and the @mention even if i completely forgot to do the thing afterward

do you like ask games?

i do! but also rip to literally anyone who has ever sent me an ask meme bc it takes me so long to answer them. i’m still working on a micro fic prompt from a few weeks ago. also, horrified to realized that it has in fact been a few weeks and not 3 days anymore.

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i don’t know that any are tumblr famous as a whole. but probably @neverheardnothing

do you have a crush on a mutual?

in any sort of romantic connotation? no. not that i’m aware of. there are mutuals that i have friend crushes on where i want to be friends with them but i get so anxious when it comes to meeting new people that usually nothing ever comes of it. i’m really not good at small talk or other casual conversation either which, as you may or may not be able to imagine, sucks. i just wanna skip over all of the awkward introductions and ‘hey how are you, how is life, what are you doing with yourself?’ stuff. not because i don’t care about it. i do, but i think most of my friends/the people i want to be my friends are also depressed and anxious so asking these basic questions about life tends to uh. make us all nervous. and i don’t do much with my life so i always have the most boring answers anyways.

i’m not tagging anyone officially bc the @ thing has just completely given up on me at this point, but if you want to do it, go for it. and then say i tagged you so i can read it c:

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 8 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: The first full day of wedding activities continues while Charlie and Bryce’s “fake” relationship gets more and more convincing.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2441

Kyra fans out the skirt of her bridesmaid dress as she looks in the three panel mirror at the back of the boutique. “These dresses aren’t as bad as I expected. I mean the seafoam green color is a bit on the nose for a beach wedding, but I would have thought she’d choose something hideous for all of us just so she would look that much better.”

“But that would ruin her aesthetic.” Charlie puts a hand to her chest and gasps in mock horror. “Katelyn would never!” Both she and Kyra devolve into a fit of laughter. 

The group had split apart after tennis - and showers thank god -  to get fitted for their dresses and tuxes respectively, while the lucky non-wedding party significant others got a few minutes to relax and breathe. Katelyn had required the bridesmaids to try on dresses at the bridal shop back in Connecticut and then have them ordered and shipped to the the resort boutique because she’s that much of a bridezilla control freak.

Katelyn walks back from the front of the store, where she had been seated with the Sarahs drinking mimosas, and studies both of them scrupulously. “Looks like yours fits pretty well Kyra. My color options were limited with your red hair and pale skin, but I think this shade of green works quite well on you Charlie. However...” Katelyn motions for the seamstress to come over. “Do you think we need to let this out in the bust? She must have gained a few pounds since we tried this size on in the bridal boutique.” 

"Or maybe the sample size was not cut exactly the same as this one." Charlie knows she's not a size two like she used to be in high school when she would stress about everything she put in her mouth, but a size eight is nowhere near overweight. Still, she's not always comfortable with her newfound curves, and it stings to hear that comment from Katelyn.

"No, no, no." Mary the seamstress insists. 'You are a beautiful, voluptuous woman. You fill the dress out very nicely."

"I agree with Mary," Kyra adds. "You boobs look fucking amazing in that dress."

"Kyra!" Katelyn scolds while Charlie blushes. "Well I guess it is what it is. Just make sure you wear a good bra.

"Noted," Charlie murmurs under her breath and disappears back into the dressing room. She sits on the bench seat, taking a deep breath, and she doesn't know why, but her first instinct is to text Bryce about how awful Katelyn has been. She shakes off the thought, but then she hears her phone buzz in her purse and almost can't believe her eyes when she sees a text from Bryce:

Since it's been like ninety minutes since you've seen me shirtless, and you're stuck with Katelyn, I thought you might need a pick me up.

The text was accompanied by a full length mirror selfie of Bryce in only athletic shorts, clearly post workout.

Bold of you to assume that will make me feel better. She types back. It doesn't hurt, but she's not going to admit that. Looks like you can't  even go two hours without talking to me. You miss me that bad?" She hits send and immediately regrets it, but moments later she gets another text:

Maybe...

Charlie doesn't even know what to do with that, so she puts her phone away, but not before taking another look at the picture of Bryce, shirtless and glistening with sweat. Normally she would think a guy sending her a picture like that was gross, but not with him. Bryce literally looks good anytime, anywhere, no matter what he is or isn't wearing, and life just isn't fair.

Charlie puts her floral sundress back on, and checks herself out the mirror. Her cheeks are still burning bright, and she needs to get ahold of herself. She’s guessing Bryce was just trying to get a reaction out of her, and if so, mission accomplished. He doesn’t even have to be in her presence to get her all flustered. Charlie fans her face and inhales deeply before joining the other ladies. 

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly. The women eat a late lunch together and Kyra and Charlie mostly keep to themselves while Katelyn and the Sarahs are so engrossed in their own conversation, they hardly notice. Then the whole group meets up for a glass bottom boat tour which is fun, but a bit crowded and noisy with all of them on one boat. Charlie gets some great pictures of sealife and selects one for Instagram. Bryce then insists they get a take a selfie of themselves to post. Charlie wonders why when everyone they are trying to convince is right there with them, but there’s no way she’s going to question it in front of everyone, so she does as he requests. Bryce squeezes his arm around her and presses his cheek to hers before snapping the picture. Charlie checks out the post after it uploads. They both looks so happy, and it seems so...real. They always say it’s not fair to look at other people’s social media and compare yourself because they only show what they want you to see, and she’s living proof. She looks like she’s having a great time in paradise with her gorgeous boyfriend, but it's all a lie, isn’t it?

The boat drops them off at the resort, and they head straight to dinner and eat oceanside at Seagrape Terrace. The sun is starting to set and a gentle breeze wafts in from over the water. Each table is set for six, and the thankfully there’s no assigned seating tonight. Unfortunately, she still ends up at the same table as Katelyn and Landry, and although Kyra is also there to help keep her sane, Bob is as well by default since everyone else is paired off. With Charlie seated between Bryce and Kyra, Landry next to Bob so they can chat about their glory days in undergrad or whatever, the only spot left for Katelyn is next to Bryce.

Katelyn takes a sip of her wine. “So Bryce, you really showed nice form on the court today. What club do you belong to? They must have incredible tennis pros there”.

Charlie nervously pushes a stray piece of lettuce around on her salad plate, unsure of how Bryce will answer.

Bryce swallows the bite of food in his mouth. “I’m kind of between clubs right now. My family isn’t from the East Coast, and I’ve been so busy with medical school I haven’t had much time. You know how it is, Landry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve hardly had a chance to visit my club the past few years.”

“So is that your excuse for your poor showing today?” Katelyn huffs.

“Muffin, I think it’s safe to say we could have both played better today. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted...”

Charlie quickly grabs the bread basket from the middle of the table. “Did everyone get some bread? There’s a few pieces left.”

Neither Katelyn or Landry answers, but at least they stop bickering.

“I’ll take another if no one else is going to have one.” Bryce reaches in and selects a piece. “You know I’ll never turn down your buns, Honey.” He smirks at Charlie.

“Very funny, Sweetie.” Charlie gives him a look out of the corner of her eye and he just chuckles.

The food comes and Charlie’s salmon is flaky and delicious. There’s just something about eating seafood at the ocean that makes it taste that much better. Charlie has two glasses of wine, already breaking her self-imposed no more drinking rule, but two glasses of wine on a full stomach is very much manageable. She thinks its incidental the first time Bryce’s outer thigh brushes against hers, but then it happens again and again. As dinner goes on Bryce seems to drift closer to Charlie, but it’s possible he’s just trying to get as far away as possible from Katelyn.

Dinner starts to wind down, and Bryce stands up and offers a hand to Charlie. “Would you like to take a walk My Dear?”

“Sure..” Charlie accepts Bryce’s hand and excuses herself from the table. She’s not certain of his motives, but she’s had more than enough of Katelyn for one day, so she'll take any excuse to escape. Bryce laces his fingers through hers and gives her hand a squeeze as they walk away.

Once out of earshot, Charlie questions Bryce. “Honey? My Dea? What’s with all the cutesy nicknames? I don’t think you have to lay it on that thick.”

“I believe I heard you call me Sweetie, Sugarlips.”

“Oh my god, Bryce.” Charlie playfully nudges her shoulder into his. “There’s noone to hear us now, so you can stop that nonsense.”

“Just trying them out.”

“Trying them out for what?”

Bryce shrugs. “Just in case.”

In case what? Charlie wonders. “Well if you call me Sugarlips in front of anyone else, I’m putting you on the first plane home.

Bryce laughs. “No Sugarlips. Got it. At least it’s better than Muffin.”

“Heh. They are the worst in every possible way, aren’t they?” Charlie looks up at Bryce, and his features are so striking in the moonlight, as if they aren’t also in every other light. She sighs inaudibly because she’s finally admitting to herself she’s starting to fall for him, even though it’s the last thing she should do.

Bryce leads her down a long pier with a gazebo at the end overlooking the water. It’s so peaceful and serene, that even though they are still in view of the group back at the restaurant, it feels like they are the only two around.

Bryce looks back at the others and then spins himself and Charlie around so his back is facing the crowd. “We have an audience. Should we give them a show?”

Charlie swallows hard. “Um, like what?”

Bryce weave his fingers through Charlie’s hair and presses his body close enough to hers she can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Wrap your arms around me.”  She does as instructed, sliding her hands up his back and feeling the contour of his taut muscles through the light cotton fabric of his button down shirt. He leans in close until their lips are a breath apart. She closes her eyes, waiting for what comes next, until she feels his forehead rest against hers.”There. They’ll definitely assume we are making out now.”

Charlie prays Bryce can’t hear how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now. And god, she hopes he doesn’t know she thought he was going to kiss her, and how much she actually wanted it. “Perfect.” She tries not sound disappointed. There’s a look in Bryce’s eyes Charlie can’t quite read. Sometimes it seems like he’s trying to test her, but she has no clue what he’s looking for and if she’s passing or failing. They remain that way for an indiscernible amount of time, until it feels like it’s been convincingly long enough, and Charlie yawns. ”I think I’m done for the day. You ready?”

Bryce places a hand on the small of Charlie’s back. “Lead the way.”

~~~

Charlie is exhausted by the time they get back to their hotel room, but at least tonight she’s sober enough to get ready for bed her self. She groans and gets embarrassed all over again just thinking about it. She settles into bed and flips the TV on until her eyelids get heavy.  She just about out when a loud creaking noise jolts her wide awake. Uncertain about what she just heard, she waits and the squeaking and creaking noises continue on the other side of the wall, until at last there’s a big, metallic thump and she rushes out in the living room to see what’s going on.

Bryce looks up from laying out his bedding on the now folded up sofa sleeper. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Almost...what’s going on?”

“I told you how terrible this thing is to sleep on. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, so I decided I might fare better on just the sofa part.”

“Bryce, let me sleep out here, and you take my bed.” Charlie insists. “Then one of us can get good sleep every other night at least.”

“Nah,” Bryce waves her off. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at my expense.”

Charlie sighs deeply. “Fine if you are going to insist on being so stubbornly chivalrous, then why don’t we just share the bed?”

“What did you just say?” Bryce asks and Charlie thinks he just wants to make her say it again.

“It’s a king size bed. There’s plenty of space.”

A mischievous smiles creeps up on Bryce’s lips. “Any excuse to get me into bed with you, huh?”

Charlie picks up a pillow and chucks it at Bryce. “Just shut up and get in there before I take back my offer.”

Charlie climbs into the right side of the bed and keeps all the way to the edge to avoid any incidental touching. This had seemed like a better idea before it was actually happening. Maybe if she wasn’t interested in Bryce this would be no big deal, but she’s acutely aware of how close he is, clad only in his boxer briefs. What if she rolls over and cuddles him in her sleep? What if she drools on him again? What if he wakes up hard? She can’t get that last image out of her brain and she’s thankful for the darkness covering up the color in her cheeks.

“You know, if you move any further away, you’re going to fall right onto the floor. You don’t have to worry about me encroaching on your side.” Bryce pats the middle of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Well, you might have to worry about me. I’m kind of a wild sleeper. You could wake up with me on top of you.”

Bryce chuckles. “I think I could handle that.”

Well I couldn’t. There’s something about Bryce’s tone of voice that gets her all worked up again, her entire body flush with heat, and he probably knows exactly what he’s doing to her. Despite her reservations, she moves a bit closer to the middle of the bed, but makes a point of putting her long body pillow as a barrier. “For my own peace of mind.”

Bryce laughs as he turns on his side. “Whatever makes you happy.”

[gildalilli]

i need to stop writing little fics i never intend to finish. here’s a wip about the husbands being ironicaly and gloriously shit at history trivia after a couple posts went around with this idea. If you want me to write more lemme know, I have ideas.

“Crowley, y’can’t just write ‘Biggus Dickus’ for ev’ry question ‘bout Rome.” Aziraphale prodded insistently at the offending words on the piece of paper in front of his trivia partner.

“Why not? Not winning anyway, are we?”

“’S’childish!” slurred Aziraphale. His reprimands rather lost their edge when he was trying to keep himself from giggling. The alcohol had decided, it seemed, that tonight it was going to chemically react to Crowley’s company and turn them into school children.

Crowley pulled a mocking face embellished with a head wiggle, childishly. “Right, well, wossa answer then?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer before getting distracted by Crowley, who was peering over the top of his sunglasses at him with golden intensity. Aziraphale caught himself staring into them, and quickly tried to look at something else. Down. Sunglasses. They were barely on at this point, just barely clinging to the tip of Crowley’s nose. Just when Aziraphale’s gaze dropped lower and was beginning to notice the very interesting fact that Crowley, like himself, happened to have lips, a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him he was supposed to be answering something.

“’Fraid I’ve forgotten the question.”

“Who was the first of the "Five Good Emperors"?” read Crowley with some difficulty.

“Oh… That’s… that’s after Mesopotamia.” Said Aziraphale.

“Nah Rome was before messsa… messss’potamia, Had oysters.”

“It was… thousand years after, dear boy.”

Aziraphale was getting frustrated, given that they walked in thinking they could simply be handed the prize essentially for showing up. The rest would happen naturally, given that they were there and the humans were not. It was difficult, granted, to arrange 6000 years of human history in chronological order in ones’ brain sober, let alone three sheets to the wind, but all the same this was getting ridiculous. They were there, for Heaven’s sake! Surely that counted for something. The 8 out of 20 answered questions disagreed.

 “Anyway… anyway, point is… Surely… they had good ones before then didn’t they? Good emperors?”

“Think they mean in compar’sson t’ Nero.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. Forgot ‘bout him…” said Crowley, pausing a moment as he tried to remember if his lot had anything to do with that. “Sstop stalling. Answer, angel?”

“I have no idea,” sighed Aziraphale as he reached for another sip of his cocktail. They were good oysters in Rome, even if the party devolved into rather something else afterwards and they’d had to slip away. The table was lined with an impressive amount of glass jugs that had once been full of happy hour specials that they had spent the night sampling. (Crowley had started off with a bottle of scotch but quickly dropped the façade and joined in on the sugar binge before the first round of trivia was over.)

��Wait, angel, I think I know it,” said Crowley, raising his brows in badly feigned realisation.

“Crowley.”

“No, I really do know it this time,” he grinned.

“I swear if you write-”

Aziraphale looked at the piece of paper, where “Biggus Dickus” had once again been scrawled.

[gumnut-logic]

V. T. Green (Part 3)

Title: V. T. Green

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Author: Gumnut

1 - 5 Sep 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently.

“Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.”

Word count: 3174

Spoilers & warnings: None.

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: I has a lurgy. This is being typed as I cough my brain silly. Very annoying. Nutty hates being sick. Sick of being sick. I hope my writing does not suffer because of it (though last time I had a lurgy I wrote Prank War, so you never know what might happen :D )

This is one that I have been meaning to write for some time. I hope you enjoy it :D Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for all their wonderful help with this.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Scott eyed his eldest brother as he slunk into the kitchen. A little pale, the man had finally made it out of his uniform into jeans with his usual red flannel draped over a bare chest. By the way he was moving, Scott could tell he hadn’t taken his painkillers.

A sigh. “I know you hate the pills, Virg, but you can’t tell me you prefer to be in pain.”

“I prefer to be able to think.”

“Pain hampers healing.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Pills or Grandma. Your choice.” Sometimes the big guns were necessary.

“Scott...”

“Hey, if our roles were reversed, what would you do?”

The glare wilted along with his brother’s shoulders. That prompted a grimace and tensed up Scott’s shoulders in turn. Goddamnit, Virg. He stood up from where he was seated at the breakfast bar and striding across to his brother, gently steered the man to a seat at the table. “Sit down and stay put.”

That prompted another glare, but Scott ignored it, darting up the stairs and beyond into the residential levels and Virgil’s room. Sure enough, the bottle sat beside his bed, seal still intact. A grab and a jog back down to the kitchen...

...and Virgil had his head buried in the refrigerator.

He dumped the pills on the bench. “I thought I told you to sit.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Sit down and I will get you some dinner.”

“I can make my own dinner. I can at least do that.”

“Virgil-“

“I’m fine, Scott, just leave it.” A pair of frowning brown eyes glared at him over the fridge door.

Scott mirrored that frown. You want stubborn, just try me.

Virgil must have seen it in his expression, because the glare intensified.

“Sit down, Virgil.”

“Is that an order, Commander.”

“If necessary.”

The butter was yanked out of the refrigerator and thrown onto the counter with a loud clatter. The bread joined it and tumbled as it hit the laminate. A jar followed that would have fallen on the floor and smashed if Scott didn’t reach out and catch it. “What the hell? What’s wrong with you?”

“Just making myself some dinner.”

“Sit down!”

“I am fully capable of making myself dinner!”

“Sit down!”

“Scott-“

“Damn it, Virgil, if you don’t sit down, I will make you sit down.”

That arched an eyebrow. “You could try.”

“Either you sit down and stop being stupid, or I’ll get Grandma in here and you can discuss it with her.”

A plate hit the stone flags and smashed, clinking shards scattering across the floor.

Scott jumped. Virgil stared at him for a solid moment before crouching down and picking up pieces of crockery.

Scott didn’t miss the flinch of pain the movement caused.

For god’s sake. “Virgil-“

“Leave it, Scott, just leave it.”

There was something in his brother’s voice, something hurt.

“V-“

“For Christ’s sake, what do I have to say to you? Just leave me the hell alone!” Broken crockery was shoved into the kitchen bin. Virgil grabbed a broom and swept up the mess one-handed without saying another word. The butter, bread and jar of spread were thrown back into the refrigerator and without a glance back, his brother hit the stairs and left.

Scott stared after him.

The bottle of pills sat alone on the bench.

-o-o-o-

“J-John, have you heard of V. T. Green?”

The astronaut turned around at Brains’ voice, the expected hologram flickering into being. “Good evening, Brains.” A hand reached out and shifted two situations to Resolved. A flick of his wrist and another landed in Not Required. “Who is V. T. Green?”

The engineer sighed. “I thought that at least y-you would know him. The m-man is a b-brilliant engineer.”

“Sounds more like Virgil’s wheelhouse.” He flicked a finger at the tropical low growing in strength just north of Western Australia and flagged it for more regular monitoring.

“Virgil h-hasn’t heard of him either. Wh-Which I find strange. I h-have been following Green’s b-blog for s-some time and I b-believe his w-work could be very useful for International Rescue.”

Now that gave him pause. John couldn’t recall Brains ever saying such a thing about any other scientist...well, except Moffie and that was for a completely different reason. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

“He d-deserves it. Have a look at this polymer.”

A series of equations appeared at John’s elbow. A glance soon became a frown of concentration. “Am I reading this correctly? Self healing?”

“Y-Yes. It w-would be invaluable for the Thunderbirds.”

A pause. “So, you want to contact this guy? Have you spoken to Scott? Kayo?”

The engineer tilted his head to one side. “I h-have attempted to gather some inform-mation, b-but haven’t had much success. I w-was hoping you m-might have b-better luck?”

John turned and eyed his friend. “You want me to run a check on him?” In other words, hack his blog and find out as much as possible.

“So I can g-go to Scott with enough d-detail to reassure him.”

Now that was a point. Scott was notoriously paranoid when it came to IR’s security. As bad, if not worse than Kayo. Brains was right to build a solid case.

“I can do. How much information do you need?”

“W-Whatever you can find.”

“FAB.”

“Thank you, John.”

“Not a problem.”

His hologram blinked out.

-o-o-o-

Scott couldn’t help himself. He followed his brother up the stairs to his room. What the hell was wrong with Virgil? It was so unlike him to get so angry with so little provocation.

Debrief had been nasty. Alan was defiant and angry and hurt. Without Virgil there to balance the scales, things had gotten out of hand quickly, the whole meeting devolving into a shouting match. Even John had started yelling.

Alan had stormed off, Gordon chasing after him.

Scott had been so angry. Virgil’s life had been endangered and all for a battle of wills. Grandma’s hand on his arm and her soft voice had snapped him out of it.

Damn.

He hated it when his brothers were injured. It wasn’t major, Virgil’s injury would heal, but still, all because Alan did something stupid.

He stood outside his brother’s closed door for a full two minutes before he raised his hand to knock.

“Scott? We have a situation.” John’s voice was soft.

He let his arm drop.

He would have to speak to Virgil later.

Apparently.

-o-o-o-

It took him another three hours, part of which involved sending Scott out to pluck yet another climber off the side of a mountain, before John had a chance to focus on the task Brains had requested.

The site itself appeared simple. Admittedly, John was a little distracted at first by its content. Brains was correct. The author definitely was someone to be admired. Admittedly, John’s knowledge of engineering wasn’t as extensive as Brains or Virgil’s but there were definitely some very elegant solutions presented on the site. A glance at the source code, a dig for the originating IP address and John easily found the site’s host in Silicon Valley, California. He launched a data miner and pulled the site logs searching for IPs that had accessed the site for publishing in an attempt to locate the author.

That’s when he hit a snag. According to the logs, each post had been created and posted from a different address. Sure, this was possible with an IP cloak, but it shouldn’t be possible to avoid his hack of that cloak.

He tracked one address through China to Russia and back out again to Spain, of all places, before he lost it at an exchange in Portugal. Another fed through Indonesia, six different servers in Japan, only to jump to a commercial satellite and claim it came from the Moon. John followed six more addresses before he discovered the layered encryption and the redirection code hidden under it.

“Oh, he’s good. Very good.” The logs themselves had been encoded to redirect the very same kind of hack John was attempting.

It took him another half hour to break the code that kept trying to lead him off on a wild goose chase.

And another hour to trace the server path through half the planet and then some - it did actually go via the moon, using some ancient tech not destroyed by the meteor shower that took out Moonbase Alpha.

By the time he finally tracked down the origin of the posts, John was beyond impressed.

When he discovered the identity of V. T. Green, he understood why.

It was so obvious, he should have known.

-o-o-o-

Dear V.T. Green. I represent a good company...

Hey, V.T. I am totally loving your stuff. You should go into business...

Doctor Green. Our university is very interested in gaining your services...

Sir, I need your help...

That last one caught his attention initially, but it devolved into a blatant scam two paragraphs in. It left him depressed.

He let his tablet fall onto his desk and his head into his one working hand. He had no idea what to do about all the requests for his assistance. Six different universities plus three other thought centres had replied, all ever so complimentary of his intellect. One laugh had been the fact that the Denver School of Advanced Technology was one of them. The bonus had been the admirer was a lecturer who had hated his guts.

Part of him wanted to reply and rub his face in it.

The tablet pinged again and Virgil was tempted to chuck the whole thing in the trash.

Message from Dr HH.

Virgil stared at it for a good minute before he inevitably touched the screen to open it.

Dear Doctor Green.

Why did half of them think he was a doctor? He had never claimed to be.

I have written you before, but I do not trust the vagaries of the internet and I feel the need to make sure you receive my request.

Virgil sighed. He was going to have to say something soon. This was unfair to Brains.

The letter went on to reiterate Brains’ suggestions regarding the polymer and reinforce the impression that they would be able to save lives.

Save lives.

It was what he did. And yes, that polymer could do that, as part of the Thunderbirds, but also if he released the rights to the design. Space and underwater habitats sorely needed the tech.

Of course, he had yet to run tests. Nothing practical had been experimented. It could all be a big hype over a big failure.

Another sigh and he closed his eyes. He hadn’t eaten, but he wasn’t hungry any more. His shoulder and arm hated him and his pills were down in the kitchen. To reach them, he would have to navigate the house and hope he didn’t run into any family members. He just didn’t feel like...explaining himself.

Perhaps he could crawl back into bed and find sleep again.

He stood up...and the emergency alarm cut off everything.

His response was reflex and he was out the door before processing another thought. He hit the elevator before he remembered he was off rescues, the car carrying him down to the comms room and dumping him there.

Damn.

But to be honest he really couldn’t not find out what was going on. He had a need to know where his brothers might be sent, no matter how it grated that he couldn’t go with them.

So, with some reluctance, he slunk around the corner into the comms room, forcing a positive gait across to the lounge where he parked himself, spine straight.

Gordon eyed him from across the other side of the circle, an eyebrow arching. Scott rose from behind their father’s desk and jogged down the steps and sat next to Virgil.

Virgil blinked. A flash of blue, a frown and thinned lips greeted him.

Damn. That would have to be fixed sooner rather than later.

Alan was the last to arrive, darting in from the kitchen and sitting beside Gordon. His eyes tracked across Virgil, but didn’t acknowledge him.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Grandma frown.

“What’s the situation, John?”

“This is a big one. Remember the Grand Sequoia Dam?”

“A little hard to forget.”

“They are reporting fractures in the dam wall and they are claiming it has to do with our hasty repairs last time.”

“What?” Virgil shot to his feet. “I checked and double checked the seal. I even went back and conducted stress testing. There is no way that dam wall could be failing because of our repairs. The nanocrete is stronger than the entire wall itself.”

John stared at him a moment before continuing. “Whatever the cause, they are claiming the wall is failing. An evac order has gone out to the town below, but they are concerned there will not be enough time. They’ve called us, and Virgil in particular, to assist.”

A frown and Virgil was pulling up scans and diagrams of the dam. Their assessment was correct. The wall was failing. A frown. It shouldn’t be. The volume of water currently pressing on it simply didn’t have the energy to create the situation. A flick of his hand and he spun the view. For this to happen there needed to be pressure from this angle with a much higher amplitude.

“Virgil is injured.” It was Grandma who broached the obvious.

“I’m going.”

That sprouted a whole array of glares.

He straightened where he stood. “I need to know what is causing this.”

“You can do that from here.” Of course, Scott would object.

“No, I prefer to be onsite.”

“You’re injured.”

“No kidding. I will ride in Two with Gordon.” He didn’t miss the sudden widening of Gordon’s eyes at that comment. “Nothing energetic.” Scott was still glaring. “There are some things that have to be seen in person.”

Scott’s lips thinned. He was pedantic about injured brothers, as was Virgil, but there was something about the situation, something odd, and it was Virgil’s reputation at stake here. Due to the use of the nanocrete, a proprietary substance unique to IR, he had signed off the safety on the dam, and it was safe.

But not now.

“I’m going.”

Brains, who had been quiet up to this point, rose slowly from where he sat. “I agree with Virgil.”

“Brains...” Grandma was admonishing.

“This shouldn’t b-be happening.” He pointed at the crack in the dam. “The structure is d-designed to w-withstand strain far b-beyond what it is currently under. The n-nanocrete cannot be responsible, yet they are accusing us. Why?”

Scott stared at Brains. “You think this is targeted?”

“It is possible.”

“The Hood?”

“Unknown, but I do think we n-need Virgil onsite for this. He has the civil knowledge n-needed.”

“Why can’t you go?” Alan piped up, still not paying any attention to Virgil.

Brains blinked and frowned at the young astronaut. “Y-you are aware that V-Virgil is the more qualified engineer in this instance?”

“What?”

It was Gordon who rounded on his little brother. “You been living under a rock, bro? Virg is the man when it comes to this stuff. You know that.”

Blue eyes frowned. “I just thought Brains could go since Virgil is injured.”

“I could, b-but Virgil’s knowledge is greater.”

Finally, Alan turned to him, but Virgil no longer had the time. “We need to get moving, that dam is not going to hold much longer.”

Scott shot to his feet. “Thunderbirds are go.”

-o-o-o-

It was odd going out on a rescue in Two, but not flying her. Virgil’s arm was still in a sling and strapped up, curled against his chest. Brains had made sure it was secure after helping him into his uniform. It hurt, but it was necessary.

The co-pilot’s seat had just a slightly different view.

Gordon launched her just as smoothly as Virgil would have. Alan sat quiet behind the both of them. As soon as they were airborne and stable, the young astronaut excused himself, muttering something about seeing to the pods.

The moment he was gone, Gordon didn’t waste any time poking the bear.

“What’s with you and Alan?”

“Nothing.” He really didn’t want to go into it.

The eyebrow arched at him was so similar to what Virgil would have done if their roles had been reversed, he almost smiled.

“Sounds like a pile of horse dung, but I’ll let you go with it.”

Virgil turned and stared at his brother.

Gordon didn’t react. “You know you scared the shit out of him, don’t you?”

“What?”

“He screwed up and his big brother got hurt.” Gordon flicked his gaze between the instruments and Virgil. “Scott reamed him out big time at debrief. You weren’t there and he really let rip.”

“Shit.” It came out under his breath.

“John lassoed him instead, but he didn’t respond as fast as you would have. Alan was kicking himself before that. By the time Scott had finished with him, he was on the verge of never going out on a rescue ever again.”

“He made a mistake. We all make mistakes.”

“He made a dick move, Virg. He didn’t listen to you or Scott and thought he knew better.” A snort. “I should know. Been there, done that, learnt the hard way.” A smirk. “First rule of International Rescue: If Virgil says it is, it is.” The smirk became a grin. “And woe be he who thinks otherwise.”

“Gordon...”

“I’m not kidding.” And the grin vanished, replaced by genuine honesty. “You know what you are talking about. You’re good at what you do.” A glance back at his flight path. “He should have listened to you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother. It took him a moment to gather himself. “Thank you, Gordon.”

The aquanaut shrugged. “Eh, I learnt the hard way, but I learnt. Anyway, you should probably talk to Alan.”

Virgil shifted in his seat and his shoulder complained loudly. He stared down at his feet. “Yeah, I should.”

There was silence in the cockpit for a bit. Virgil was caught up in what he should say to his littlest brother and Gordon quietly eyeing him.

The silence was obviously too much for Gordon. “So, who is this V. T. Green Brains keeps raving about?”

Virgil flinched; the question completely unexpected.

Gordon frowned at him. “What? What do you know about him?”

“Nothing.”

An amber blink. “Bullshit, Virg, you’re looking guilty as. What do you know? Scott said Brains was interested in inviting the guy to the island.”

Virgil’s head shot up and his shoulder screamed at him. Ow.

Gordon’s frown tried to cleave his face in half. “What the hell, Virgil? If you know something, why haven’t you said anything? Brains is going nuts trying to find this...guy.” And Gordon was staring at him in shock. “Oh my god.”

Virgil glared at him. “What?”

“It’s you.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Three

Part Four

[eturni]

Day 24 - Holiday Card

It’s day 24 of @drawlight​‘s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today is holiday card.

Featuring old-fashioned Victorian Christmas cards that I beg you to Google, and a holiday toast that perfectly fits the husbands (in my opinion).

Crowley and Aziraphale had a tradition. Of course, they had the traditional traditions. They had drinking and a tree and the menorah and mistletoe and all manner of wonderful regular things that humans had as standard in their midwinter celebrations. But they also had their own little tradition.

It was awful, truly, and yet Aziraphale found himself participating every year.

Christmas cards were, one might expect, a fairly innocuous and pleasant enough way to send a quick greeting through the holiday season. Thinking of you. Sorry I couldn’t make it out there. We don’t know each other well enough for gifts but please take my regards. For the most part in modern times they are just that.

This has not always been the case.

Back when cards were first picking up popularity they were made with some singularly interesting themes. Aziraphale remembered the first year (following their relative popularity) that Crowley had been away from London altogether for the midwinter period. It was 1842 if he remembered correctly. Crowley had arranged a card be sent to him with the relatively bizarre scene of a dog riding a pig whilst a young child held a horsewhip to encourage the game. It had read simply “hearty greeting” on the outside and had caused Aziraphale no small level of absolute bafflement when it arrived with the post.

To this day he still sometimes sits down with it.

They were hereditary enemies, opposite sides, eternal foes. The thought often brings a kind of smile to his face that twists through nostalgia and regret like anxious fingers around each other before settling on fond.

Inside there had been a simple message wishing him safety and good health through the season. They were standard lines, almost clinical in their use if it weren’t for the fact that it had been a demon writing them to an angel knowing that he’d be hundreds of miles away. There was even a small vague drawing of a sprig of mistletoe in the corner.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52377118 or:

Back then it had brought him an untold, and frankly alarming, amount of peace to know that the demon was thinking about him even while out on his own wiles.

The next year Aziraphale had returned in kind. In keeping with Crowley’s position as a denizen of Hell he had found a card with a frog and a beetle dancing whilst a fly played tambourine for them. It announced May Christmas be merry in the bottom corner and caused Crowley to physically come over to his bookshop to demand an explanation after receiving it.

They had spent some time alternating years that they would send the other a card; each attempting the most ridiculous or unnerving scene possible until it devolved into a yearly competition with both of them providing their best worst options.

On their first Christmas after the Armageddon doesn’t happen Crowley waits until the day after they trim up the bookshop to saunter in with a card sealed in an envelope and held loosely between two fingers.

It’s almost careless; the way he hands it over. It’s almost careless the way he walks into the shop. Both of these things are practised and obvious but Aziraphale lets it slide. Let’s Crowley be a little bit more comfortable.

It’s four months since the bookshop burned and yet didn’t, since Heaven and Hell’s forces were on earth looking for them, since nowhere was safe and they became enemies of a couple of rather large armies. It only made sense that Crowley still looked over his shoulder and that the demon does not want that pointing out.

So he takes the card with a grin and quickly goes to fetch his own, a proud smile on his face as he hands it over. “I think you’ll quite like this one Crowley.” He announces with a curt nod.

“Guess that means me first. Drink?” Crowley asks, already sliding letter-opener fingers into the envelope and tearing it open.

“If you would, my dear. I have some mulled wine going.” Aziraphale suggests. There had not been wine in any state of mulling before he had walked in but it’s there on the small burner sure enough when Crowley makes his way through.

Aziraphale can’t help but be a little disappointed when Crowley disappears. He’ll miss the chance to see the demon’s face on opening the card but he does listen out for the tell-tale groan of annoyance. Instead Crowley returns with two glasses and places them down having not touched the envelope further.

When he does open the card Aziraphale gets to see the squint of confusion followed by the annoyed jaw twitch that told Aziraphale the pun had landed. “Fuck’s sake, angel.” He hisses, taking off his glasses to look at him with a surprising amount of affection for all the disappointment he’s trying to convey.

“Is that a sailor outfit? Why is it dressed up like Sailor Mars with a Santa hat?”

Aziraphale reclines back in his chair, wine glass in hand and a satisfied smile as he lets Crowley drink it in. An oddly proportioned duck dressed, indeed, in a pleated skirt and shirt with a Santa hat and the caption Duck the halls. Inside he had written a short, fairly standard, holiday greeting and then transcribed a website that one of the university students who frequented the shop had kindly helped him to find.

There is an immediate frown. “Oh, ha ha. Well, do they?”

The angel raises an eyebrow at this and gently salutes with his drink. “Crowley you will have to find out for yourself. I did not write that entire thing out for you to attempt a short cut.”

He unsuccessfully hides a smile in his glass by taking another sip when Crowley growls in response.

“Right, while I do that you open yours.” He gives an impatient flick of his hand and Aziraphale wastes no time hopping to it. All the while with Crowley tapping out the web address for whether ducks have ears.

It’s a rather innocuous thing, all things considered. Two deer by a river in a mountainous landscape. Quite lovely, if Aziraphale’s honest with himself (and he’s been working on that recently). The line at the top reads Please enjoy your non-denominational winter scene which is honestly just very Crowley.

He’s a little baffled until he opens it and finds the words You Heathen followed by Crowley’s neat but sharp handwriting declaring You’re one of ours now. with a little doodled snake in sunglasses at the side.

Aziraphale’s hands tighten around the card faintly and when he looks up Crowley feels a cold weight drop into his stomach to see the faint sheen of moisture in his eyes. “Angel… Shit, it was only a joke.” He rushes. His mouth is still open as if to say more but even divorced from Hell’s forces I’m sorry is a hard thing for a demon to manage without preparing himself first.

“One of ours.” Aziraphale admonishes softly. “There’s only two of us. Our side.” He offers up into the stilted air.

Crowley finally grins. “That and the entire human race, angel.”

“Yes I suppose so. Well, happy holidays to the world, I suppose.” He toasts, watching the light get brighter still in his companion’s eyes as he knocks back his drink.

[kariachi]

Okay, got access to some more of season 4, so let’s get this train a going again with Steam Fight At The OK Corral

~~

Oh look, it’s Smythe. In an episode with ‘steam’ in it’s title. Whudda thunk.

It seems like people don’t care abut steam power anymore because, get this, nobody cares about steam power anymore.

Oh look, it’s Kevin. Offering help or advice or some such. He’s just, trying to hard to look large and in charge in this scene. And yet he is so small.

“-oily child of the sand dunes-” I need somebody with any amount of editing or artistic skill to put that along the bottom of a reboot!Kev picture like it’s a fucking title. ‘Kevin ‘11′ Levin, Oily Child of the Sand Dunes’.

“Who are you, what do you know of my struggles with the Tennyson brat, and do you like steam?“ That last bit was so hopeful. Like ‘pls god and also heaven let somebody else on this planet care about the glory of steam’.

Kevin takes offense at being called oily. Listen, Kev, sweetie, all we’re asking is when’s the last time you took a shower. I mean, please tell me the Forever Nerd at least supplies shower access. Assuming you’re working with the Forever Nerd at this point, this could be pre-Nerdage.

“My name’s Kevin, I’m the chief authority on Tennyson-whooping, and steam is dumb.” Spoken like a true engineer of the modern age.

Smythe looked like he might cry for a second there. Right before it hit him that Kev implied he could take Ben down and double checked that shit. Which gives us Kevin lying out his ass about having beaten Ben in a fight, very evasive child. He’s not even lying particularly well.

Kev looks so happy to have an ally in his anti-Ben shit, in that ‘mwahahaha’ way antagonists have.

(Honestly, somebody give this child his rat, he needs some back-up and also somebody to teach him how to bluff and con.)

Kevin Levin, here to kick Tennyson butt and bring Smythe out of the fucking steam era.

With the power of a single tablet- which Smythe wouldn’t know from a hole in the ground- Kevin intends to take this mess to the next level (that being at least combustion, dear gods)

Oh look, back to the Tennysons. What were their names again? Len and Ren?

Aww, playing cowboys with waterguns in the Rustbucket.

Max is not having it. He leaves them alone for five minutes-

Overdramatic children in the desert. Make it thirty feet from the RV and just start collapsing

And Max gets them up again with promises of showdown reenactments, because this man knows his grandchildren.

There is no reenactment, the children feel robbed, Max reminds them that this is the best they’re getting since the family’s tablet got ruined during their play earlier.

Ben continues to be overdramatic

Y’all had to test your luck. You coulda had a nice, boring day, but no. You had to question shit and now you’re under attack.

Clocktopus 2.0, now gone digital.

Okay, some things of note- 1) Kevin set up a fucking hammock behind Smythe’s seat in the Clocktopus. 2) He is trying to let Smythe do the work while he plays a videogame. 3) The tablet is taped to the Clocktopus’s controls.

Okay, video cuts a bit there, but it’s still clear Smythe has no idea what he’s doing and things quickly devolve into him and Kevin fighting over the controls, presumably because seeing someone fail so badly at using a tablet is painful for Kevin.

And of course that leads to things just being a complete mess of flailing and lasers (because of course Kevin made sure there were lasers)

Oh lords, and all this was just the result of Kevin trying to show Smythe how you set the date and time, my gods. This is going to be a glorious disaster.

Cut again, but apparently Ben got a solid enough hit in.

Smythe losing his temper.

Smythe wants to send out explosive carrier pigeons, Kevin is unamused and calls for more lasers (and is back to playing his game btw, wonder what he’s playing), Smythe is unamused by that.

Smythe gets more smacks in on Slapback, Kevin calls him out of multiplying the little fuckers, demands laser-usage.

...I have to assume these are the people Smythe would’ve been raised alongside had the stork not gotten things horribly wrong.

Huh, six Slapbacks is enough to hold down a Clocktopus.

And of course the Omnitrix times out then. You don’t see Kevin having this problem, at least not as often, and yet his is supposed to be the crappy watch.

Aww, Kevin dragged Smythe kicking and screaming into renewable energy usage. Fuck steam, it’s gonna run on solar or so help him. (Note, I am making assumptions here but, come on, how precisely do you think you’d get Smythe to agree to drop steam?)

And there go the solar panels, courtesy of Humongasaur. (Who still shoulda been named GigantiGecko)

Another cut, but I’m fairly certain it’s just Smythe bitching at Kevin about how they wouldn’t have lost power if they were still running on steam.

And Ben’s gloating is cut short by the Clocktopus powering back on because Kevin is a smart engineering noodle and had back-up power ready. It’s only one battery, but it’s one of the big ones. Also Kevin is not being paid enough to put up with Smythe’s lack of knowledge. He’s just not.

Kevin has had it up to about here with Smythe and his, Smythe-ness.

Oh Smythe, has no clue.

...only Smythe, with someone there giving actual simple instructions, could send a photo to somebody rather than delete it. And to LaMoron at that.

Kevin, really into kicking Ben’s ass. I still have thoughts on this, though I’m trying to catch all the Kevin things before I make any more posts on the matter.

Max worries about his grandkids, also owns so many waterguns.

Aww, the passcode on Max’s chest of waterguns is “I love my grandkids”. That’s so sweet.

Gwen: I’m gonna run you outta town Kevin: I’d like to see you try

Is, is every child oily to you, Smythe?

Such weakness to water. It’s okay Kev, in time you’ll figure out waterproofing. Probably faster than you’ll figure out keeping laser blasts from fucking with your Omnitrix

Smythe calling Kevin out on not making the damn thing waterproof, Kevin frantically trying to salvage this disaster.

There is no salvaging this disaster.

Smythe, not pleased.

Welp. I don’t think these two are ever going to work together again, shocking no one. I’m honestly surprised they got this far.

Smythe had a Plan B and that was ‘go back to good old steam’

And Kevin has been yeeted into the distance. Oh Kevin.

As I said, fairly certain we’re never gonna see these two working together again.

Smythe has found his people and is all teary-eyed over it.

He happily turned himself in just because there were people appreciating steam and he was so happy about it.

9/11

[little-klng]

Baldi’s Basics Theory

I’m sure everyone by now has heard of this new indie game called Baldi’s Basics due to the fact that almost every popular Youtuber has played it, including Markiplier. Markiplier, as far as I know, is the only major Youtuber to have gotten all endings and has played quite so much of the game as many like to reference in theory videos. I’ll cut to the chase, this is a theory post about something i developed in about 15 minutes. I spent a long while debating on whether or not to even post it due to the nature of the game. I wondered if people would make fun of me for making a whole theory on some silly game about a horror-filled schoolhouse that looks so thrown together, but my dear reader, strap on your seat belt and pull out your notebooks because this here is gonna be a bumpy ride

Now that you’re here, you’ve shown interest in what I have to say. Thank you for that.

On to the theory. Now, what is it that i have to go on here for any theory? Well, everything! This isn’t gonna be another ‘it was all a dream!’ theory because thats tired and worn out and completely erases all the work gone into the game (and any story for that matter), but understand it’s going to delve into a concept of that vein. Let’s lay out what we know;

-The game takes place in a bad CGI/2D schoolhouse setting from those old learning games in the 90′s. -The main antagonist is Baldi -All other characters look like horrible caricatures of what could have/should have been better modeled/rendered people/students -All characters in the game exist solely to harm or distract the player in some way -At the end of the game when you win, you’re met with a distorted voice asking you to do worse next time because they need to- That’s that. The end of the dialogue devolves into static there. But that gives us a hint of what to do next

If you just play the game as normal. you’d never really come across some pretty major points and plot. The game just dumps you in this setting of a weirdly laid out school and lets you run wild. But if you didn’t know any better, you would miss out on the fact that the only reason the player is in the school is to get your friends notebooks that he left in the school. Weird that no character, not even you, makes any mention of that. The whole premise of the game is that you collect notebooks, but you have to solve math questions for them that you always have to fail due to some questions being glitched out and unsolvable.

With the addition of update 1.3.1, the game now has a Secret Ending that you can only get by beating the game after getting 100% of all questions wrong (meaning Baldi chases you faster than ever. Go watch Markiplier do it, it took him 9 hours). But once you beat it, you’re met with the screen telling you to go to the principals office for tips on how to do better. Once there, you’re met with a long distorted Baldi in one end of the room and a mysterious character on the other. His name is Filename2 and he looks like this

Look at this dude T Posing out here. An absolute icon.

Filename2 is just what hes labelled as in the files, and his name is never actually spoken. Some theorize him to be the players friend from earlier, and honestly so do I! When you enter the room he says the following;

"Oh jeepers, you found me. Good job, I'm glad you found me, because I have something kind of important to say. *beep* It's about th-the game... Don't, *beep* Uh, Eh. Don't *beep* Don't, just, *laughter* this is.. This is probably looking pretty ridiculous *beep* Don't tell anyone about this game. You wanna.. Don't, don't bring attention to yourself. Destroy it, destroy the game. Destroy the game. Before, it's too late. *beep* What I'm saying is... is get out of this, while you still can. *beep* Just, don't.. don't know that you probably know I'm not saying that I'm trapped inside the game, no, that would be ridiculous. No I'm.. *beep* I can't... this is... I'm not... the game was... kind of...*beep* I got really corrupted. Yeah, I... *beep* I don't know what to say. Just... Just trust me. We gotta... *beep* * This isn't... This seems... I me-I mean it seems... ohh. *beep* They'd know I.. They intentionally... that's...I guess... I can't- They can't tell you, and some... stuff is classified. I can't say it. *beep* I wish I could say more. I can't talk normally. I-it's corrupted. There's...*beep*...Yeah...*beep* Just... close the program. Destroy it. Never come back. *long beep*"

...Yeah

There are a few things to take from this

-Filename2 is not ‘trapped in the game’ like most horror cliches. that would be ridiculous -He needed you to fail every single math question and still beat the game just to say all this. Weird. -He REALLY wants you to just delete the game and pretend you didn’t see it -He REALLY wants you to escape the game while you can -The game is ‘corrupted’ somehow, but he can’t really get into it because its ‘classified’ and ‘they’ would know he told you

There is something/someone preventing Filename2 from telling you anything more important than ‘get out of here while you can, don’t worry about me’. Throughout the audio, theres a constant stutter and some laughing, but more prominently the sound of shuddering and heavy breathing. It sounds a bit like crying to me. (warning to anyone about to go listen to the audio themselves, the beeps are REALLY loud and the speech is REALLY quiet)

Lets put him to the side again while we analyze the rest of the school

This doesn’t really look like any school I’ve ever been to, how about you? The weird hallways made to look like the stretch on and on and the actual classrooms being so far away from each other makes it feel less like a school and more like a hellscape prison.

About the schools inhabitants, they also feel like a hellscape prison.

We already know about Baldi, so lets see the other antagonists;

Aside from Baldi, Filename2, and yourself, there are 6 other characters that roam the halls. Each one has a simple description of themselves in the Principals Office.

Gotta Sweep;

What do you do when the school opens in 7 hours and you haven't hired a janitor? Hire a broom! It sweeps everything!

As you might imagine, Gotta Sweep is a badly condensed jpg image of a green and grey broom that spends its time, once released from the broom closet, roaming the halls loudly proclaiming its need to sweep. It moves quickly, sweeping everything in its path in the same direction it is. It stops for no one and nothing.

It’s A Bully;

Here at Here School, we believe every good school needs a good bully! That's why we have this kid!

It's a Bully appears as a poorly-modeled humanoid figure with an orange ellipsoid for a torso, blue cylinders for limbs, and small, peach-colored balls for hands and feet. He has an incredibly distorted and malformed face with dots for eyes, a gaping mouth with orange lips that clips into where his neck would be, a wide asymmetrical nose and brown hair. He doesn't wear shoes, and he has a brown text floating next to his head that says "THIS IS A BULLY" in all-caps. His pose appears to be in the middle of a run cycle. He spends his time blocking hallways and demanding that, in order to pass through, he must take one of your items. He can, however, be sent to detention should the principal wander by.

Playtime;

Despite her poor eyesight, she's always looking for a playmate! "Let's play!"

This character is a poorly drawn animated little girl whos eyes and hair are animated scribbles. Her poor eyesight has nothing to do with her characters mechanics, as she spots you easily and traps you in a game of jumprope. You can cut her jumprope with safety scissors to escape the game entirely, but doing so is considered bullying and you can be sent to detention for it.

1st Prize; 

Won 1st Prize at the Science Fair! Loves hugging people, rushing towards anyone it sees. Sadly, it turns super slowly.

If you liked Gotta Sweep you’ll definitely like this character. Hes a robotic hugging machine that barrels down the hall towards you, and pushes you until the hallway ends. He, unlike Gotta Sweep, turns very slowly. He can occasionally accidentally push Baldi into you if you’re not careful, but you can use the safety scissors to cut his wires and make him spin in place for 15 seconds to buy time. Dunno why you’d do that though.

Principal of the Thing; 

If I see anyone breaking the school rules, I'll make sure justice is served! It tastes good and fills my tummy!

Now, the interesting thing here is that when you start the game, Baldi refers to Here School (the school you’re in) as ‘his’ school, even though there definitely is a principal. There are posters in the school listing off the rules, and all are pretty standard like “no running” and “no students in the faculty rooms” and being caught breaking these rules by the principal sends you to detention for increasing seconds. An interesting thing to note about this character is that his name is a play on words for the phrase ‘It’s the principle of the thing’, though I have no idea how to fit that into a theory. This guy is a mostly average looking guy, except that his face is slightly contorted and his legs are partially erased

Arts and Crafters;

Shy, and tries to be avoided. Doesn't like being looked at, and gets jealous at people with more notebooks than him.

This guy is the final character, and he’s only important once you have all 7 notebooks. This guy is a sock puppet that, when looked at, will dart back behind whatever wall is closest and out of sight. However, once you have more notebooks than him (7, as he has 6), he turns hostile. He runs at you with his cardboard mouth agape and teleports both you and Baldi back to the starting position, ruining your run almost instantly. 

And that’s everyone!

The most intriguing thing about all of them is that they all share one quality; some part of them is horrifically malformed. Something about them is just... broken or stretched or erased. The only one in one piece and animated is, albeit poorly, Baldi. Everyone, however, has a function and could definitely be described as real cliques and people. All of these characters read as how you imagine a person you’ve only ever been told about, but never really met. Especially if the person telling you about them was only telling you about the newest drama going around or the latest experience the person talking has had with that person if they’ve only had bad experiences with them.

And here’s where the theory begins.

These characters are all fragmented and poorly animated because thats sort of how it works in your head when you’ve never actually seen someone in person. How many times have you heard about someone over and over only to meet them in person and realizing they look nothing like how you imagined, or that they dont act the same as you’ve been told. But that’s because often times you’re only ever told about the bad someone else has done, and very rarely the special good things someone does. 

These characters are not real people, but they are based on the real people your friend knows.

Your friend told you about the little girl in the school with bad eyesight but loves to play jumprope. Your friend told you about the bully that steals his stuff. Your friend told you about the principal and how he gets people in trouble so much. Your friend told you about his science fair project that won first place. These people are not people you know, but you’ve heard about them. You probably don’t know their names because your friend didn’t refer to them with names. Just with minor descriptions.

Why do they look like that? well I don’t imagine that, if one were to look at how your brain pieces images together based on description alone and makes them a real thing, they would look so good either. 

Every single character makes sense in this context. All but one- Baldi

Baldi, unlike every other character, is a whole animated character with lines that hint not-so-subtly that hes in charge of Here School, despite the principle. He’s an entity that is almost entirely immune to most things and hes the first thing you see as you enter the game. He’s also the last. But despite this, his weakness is the rules he follows. He tries to answer the phone, he abides by the walls of the school, he moves at a pace synonymous with the whacks of his ruler- if you’ve ever been to an old catholic school, you know that sound well and truly means power over others.

Baldi is a malicious entity that has trapped you in his Hellscape Prison constructed entirely from your subconscious memory. Personally, I think the map looks that way because the Player has been homeschooled and hasn’t actually seen much of the inside of a real school, but that’s up for interpretation. Baldi has manifested this area to fit the descriptions that your friend has fed you of this area you were already thinking about on your way to gather your friends notebooks. You were meant to be dumped in this world having forgotten your initial quest and forced to work on bare instinct. That’s why you don’t think to question the fact that, despite the fact that school is over at this time (”your friend forgot his notebooks and he needs them back before ‘eating practice’...” supposedly an after school activity Actually revolving around cooking and food prep. Maybe your friend works at a restaurant after school and Baldi doesn’t quite understand what that means due to his demonic or fae nature?) you’re still expected to finish all these math assignments just to leave. 

Now, why doesnt our brave and ultimately doomed protagonist just leave? Well, my dear reader, I’m sure you’ve heard of those old tales of Fae that trick wanderers into eat fruit or taking things that aren’t theirs to trap them for eternity? That’s right, the notebooks are what trap you in the game.

From the first moment you finish the first notebook scot-free, you are trapped, having taken a fae-world item to fulfill your own quest. Now Baldi can give you those impossible-to-solve questions and the notebooks regardless of anything else. You’re trapped and theres nothing you can do about it.

No matter how many times you get a Game Over, you’ll keep trying. And you’ll keep going. You won’t ever really escape

“But the, where does Filename2 come into play, Mona?” I hear you dejectedly cry into the night, “You didn’t forget about him, did you?” Oh you naive little thing... he’s what ties this whole thing together!

You see, Filename2 is you! Well, maybe not you but, he’s what remains of you. While you spend eternity trapped in a world built from your subconscious, your conscious self remains, though glitched out and corrupted. You aren’t fully there, and if you knew that you might be able to escape, but if Filename2 told you that, Baldi would know. Filename2 is your door to safety and salvation...  but unfortunately...

Baldi hears every door that you open.

[kestrelsarethebestrels]

A short tale of bows and birds.

-PART 1-

Someday... in the post-apocalyptic world of 2042... Mankind has fallen and the birds have gained sapience and reclaimed their lands and skies... A dusty cellphone, relic of the past, begins to ring amid the concrete debris-strewn rubble of the Oklahoma City metro. Scarred, bruised hands scramble to answer the call. A distant yet familiar voice speaks. "Jason Miller?"

"....Dear god. I haven't heard that name in forever."

"This is Jason Miller, right?"

"Yes sir."

"This is Alex from H&H. Your Hoyt Invicta is ready."

"...."

"When you come to pick it up, just be aware that there's a gang of grackles harassing anybody who's trying to get in the parking lot. It's a bloodbath out there, haha. Good luck, loser. You could've just bought the Invicta from Lancaster."

-PART 2-

some time later...

15 days. 15 grueling, godforsaken days just to traverse the city. He would have taken a bike or some other faster mode of transportation, but birds are jealous, spiteful creatures in the year 2042. They have a tendency to attack any other species attempting to come close to their flight speeds. Moving twelve miles on foot wasn't easy with the freely belligerent gaggles of geese, or the true-to-their-name murders of crows. Fortunately, he had been prepared, stealthily moving from block to block and camping under shelter when the density of feathers outside became too high. It's too bad that bow order had taken so long, or he would have obviously had a much easier time. Indeed, for in the year 2042, firearms have ceased working (for whatever reason, but mostly because the plot really needs that to be true).

But finally, the time had come. He stood under the small awning at H&H. The doors had clearly been in a state of disrepair - nay, total destruction - for several years. Feathers and other unimaginable bits and pieces lay undisturbed on the sidewalk leading up to the entrance. It was obvious the birds had ransacked this establishment long ago, but since firearms don't work in 2042 (bear with me here), the avian entities were unable to... bear arms. Because they have wings, and also because they found the guns inoperable. (Their world takeover would have been vastly faster had they had access, but humans should count themselves so lucky.)

He stuck his head through one of the broken glass doors. "Hello?"

Greeted by silence. Odd. Try again, maybe. "Hello?"

Still no answer. Damn. Deeply sighing, he carefully stepped with all his gear over the remains of the door frame, switched on a flashlight, and looked both ways inside. All clear, literally and figuratively. The birds had ransacked anything else that was usable. He headed towards the archery shop on the left. As he passed the cafe, which clearly still had been serving up those crispy hand-breaded onion rings until the very end, a feeble voice groaned from the end of the store.

Jason was on full alert, but that voice was definitely human and not a mockingbird (a species whose skills had allowed them to mimic humans and lure them into the open, causing untold damage in the early days of the apocalypse). Crouching behind the empty product stands, he looked around once more and then slowly moved in the direction of the sound.

"Hey uh... hah.. it's just me." A normal-enough voice. He stood up to locate the source and immediately found it with the flashlight.

"Hey asshole, turn that off!" the other guy yelped from behind the counter, raising his arms to shield his eyes from the beam. Well, he was certainly alive. Jason quickly ran his flashlight around his surroundings and noticed small piles of human bones that had been picked clean... Almost too clean. Not like how the birds usually did it. A wave of uneasiness swept over him, but dammit, he was so close. So close to the prize.

"Look, you called me 'bout two weeks ago. I've come a long way. Do you have it?"

"Have what?" The disheveled man cackled, the laugh of a man who had clearly gone insane a while ago. More uneasiness, but Jason fought it. "The bow, you idiot."

"Oh, the BOW. Hah, yeah, I do. It's been here the whole time."

"What's that s'posed to mean."

"Meant to call you earlier, but we forgot. But who are you gonna complain to now?!" His words devolved into more cackling at the end, rendering his speech almost unintelligible. His frail body doubled over in laughter, too hard now to even continue the conversation. Jason made his way to the backroom, the wooden door conveniently having had met the same fate as the doors back at the entrance.

There it was. A very dusty box, but clearly the right size and shape, and with the Hoyt logo clearly emblazoned upon it. He quickly tore it open and found that bright pink Invicta 37 SVX, as clean as the day it left the factory. Giddy with excitement, heart pounding, he held the bow up in his left hand. All the parts were there - custom grips, additional mods, user manual. The mission: successful. The bow: an engineering beauty. That weird guy outside: clinically insane.

But wait. He put the bow down and looked around the box for the packing slip. That's when he noticed the Sharpied note on the outside of the box.

He whispered a very short four-letter expletive to himself. There, next to the packing slip plastic, were written the words: "RECEIVED JUNE 2021."

[inyri]

63. “What do you mean? It’s exciting!” Character of your choice.

(SWTOR- a little bit of backstory featuring a much-younger Nine. She’s about nineteen here, toward the end of her first year of Intelligence training. 

We’ll encounter the other major player in this piece fairly soon- a few chapters to go yet. Though you may recall that Nine’s mentioned a patron once or twice...)

“Why not?”

She frowns, running one finger beneath her collar when she’s pretty sure no one else is watching. It’s far too warm in here to be comfortable, the air heavy with perfume and candle smoke. “As soon as we’re done I’m going back to the dormitories. This place feels wrong.”

“What do you mean? It’s exciting!” Aylee’s staring, wide-eyed and too eager, at the cluster of Sith and hangers-on standing near them in the slowly-emptying ballroom. “And you heard what they said- things are just getting started. Let’s go upstairs. Come on.”

“We’re supposed to be working until midnight.” Her back aches from standing but she doesn’t dare lean against the doorframe, not with so many cameras around. This assignment’s as much a test as any classroom exercise they’ve been given this year, even if it is a gala. “You know what our instructions were.”

Rolling her eyes, Aylee goes back to gawking. (The girl acts like she’s never seen a Sith Lord before, but she did come from the Ziost academy- maybe she really hasn’t. Not like home, where even when she was a child one couldn’t cross the street without some big-headed apprentice threatening to skewer one for getting underfoot.) “You used to be fun. Last weekend I had to drag you off that guy to make it back by curfew.”

“It was our night off, so that’s not a fair comparison. And you saw him. Can you really blame-” She cuts off the phrase abruptly as a silk-robed woman lingers too long at the doorway between them; meeting the woman’s eye, she shakes her head tersely before she catches sight of the hilt tethered to her sash.

Uh-oh. They’re meant to be guarding the off-limits area, two to a door like the rest of their class cohort, but if a Darth wants through it’s not like her little pistol’s going to do a damned thing against a lightsaber blade-

The woman moves on and she sighs in relief, then makes a face. “See? I’m not hanging around a minute longer than ordered, and neither should you.”

“And it’s-” their chronos chime the hour, in perfect synchrony- “midnight. Party time.”

Before she can stop her, Aylee’s halfway gone across the room, unfastening her collar and the top buttons of her jacket as she goes. She doesn’t bother calling out after her. It isn’t worth it; Aylee’s clever enough but never could follow instructions, bending all their tasks to suit herself. She’ll scrub out by year’s end at this rate.

It is midnight, though. Her orders didn’t say anything about waiting to be dismissed so it’s time to get out of here, not a moment too soon- if the dancing in the center of the space was restrained an hour ago it’s devolved into something… well. She heard what happened to that Chiss in the third-year class, how he was so fucking proud to have a Sith patron until they found him wandering outside Darth Valascis’ estate half-naked and screaming, and there’s no way any of their pretty promises are worth the risk of ending up like that.

The exit’s at the far end of the ballroom and she walks quickly, heels too loud against the marble floor, as Seb and Daivi break from their post ahead of her and slip through the huge carved doors to the foyer beyond. At least she isn’t the only one eager to escape- oh.

“Leaving so soon?” She’s yanked back and nearly off her feet by a Sith in species as well as in power, skin red and eyes yellow and talons sharp enough to pierce through her sleeve as his hand wraps tight around her wrist. “Oh, but you mustn’t. We’re only just getting started.”

Another hand on her face, another Sith, breath hot on her cheek, gripping her chin to shift her head into profile. “Look at that complexion, darling,” the woman purrs. “Like cream- imagine the contrast. How perfect.”

She stiffens. Void, their touch almost burns her- “Please, my lords. I can’t-”

“I insist.” Beneath the pleasantries there’s malice buried in his tone as he starts to pull her back toward the stairs to the balcony level. “Now come along, my dear, and-”

“Cadet Barra.” The sound of her surname, somewhere behind her, snaps her back to attention; she turns, breaking free of their touch. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re expected back at quarters.”

She can’t quite place him at first glance, though he seems familiar and clearly, he knows her- scar-bordered cybernetics covering one eye and much of his lower jaw, dark hair flecked with grey and wearing the rank bars of an Army major, the man clamps one hand down on her shoulder and, ignoring the snarls of protest from the pair of Sith, steers her to and through the doorway before she can even muster a response.

He doesn’t stop moving until they’re clear of the estate and, on the pavement outside, finally lets her go. “My apologies if I misread the situation, cadet, but I rather got the impression you weren’t going willingly.”

“No, sir.” The chill outside’s a welcome change; she takes a deep breath and then another. “No. I wasn’t. Thank you, sir.”

“There are people in that room who would have given a great deal to have taken your place,” he says. “But not you. Why?”

She arches an eyebrow, folds her arms across her chest. “That’s a very personal question, Major-?”

“Ruana. Galen Ruana.” That’s where she knows him- Lydie’s patron and one of the upper level instructors, borrowed from Army Intelligence. She’d only seen him in the corridors once or twice, but she recognizes the name. “And I’m merely curious. You needn’t answer- though I did tell the Director this assignment was unwise. A room full of sharks, and he dangles you in front of them like so much bait.”

She nods. “I suppose that was part of the exercise, wasn’t it? A test of judgment.”

“You’re likely right.” She’s definitely right. She can tell by the way he smiles. “But still, your choice would have been to leave?”

“I- sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Granted, Barra.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t like the way they looked at me, sir. Like sharks, as you said, but part of me thinks it wouldn’t be a metaphor. That they might actually just eat me.”

“Then you learned that lesson far younger than I did. Good for you.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he shakes his head at whatever he sees and when she turns, too, two shadowed figures flicker at the far edge of her vision as a hovercar rounds the corner to pause in front of them. “Though I’d suggest you not walk back alone.”

“It’s only three blocks, sir. I’d manage.”

“No,” he says, “you wouldn’t. I’ll drop you by the dormitory. I insist.”

At least this one, she thinks, isn’t going to swallow her up. “Yes, sir.”

[polyputthekettleon]

She did it!

A tale of starting HRT that quickly devolves into a navel-gazey ramble in which I try to figure out the mess in my head.

Last night, I went with my darling girl to her follow-up appointment to get started on estrogen. She was bouncing as she came out of the clinic -- beaming, so very very happy. And then we went and picked up sushi so the pharmacy would have time to process her prescription, and then we headed over to get her pills.

I have never seen her as peaceful than in that moment after she took that first little tiny tablet. She was so, so very happy, so confident in this next step. I have no doubt at all in my mind that she is on the right path.

Meanwhile, how am I doing?

I think I'm okay. Honestly. I will say, I got teary in the doctor's office when she and the doctor discussed how this could result in chemical castration and how she had been planning on a vasectomy soon anyway, because I want to have a baby with her. I really, really do. But my life isn't at all in a place to pursue that...I would want to live with her, or at least next door. And I'm not fully ready to risk losing what I have with J... I don't think. 

Hmm. On further inspection, I don't know.

My therapist recommended I sit with my desire to live with D. That if that's what I truly want, that knowledge will grow and grow and grow, until I can't stand avoiding saying it any longer.

I think I'm reaching that point. Seeing her every day these past couple weeks feels unbelievably good, even if just for a few minutes. That said, we're accomplishing that without moving in together right now, so what's the rush?

Well, obviously if I wanted to have a baby with her that was biologically hers, that would be the rush.

Ugh.

Do I really want another baby?

How much do I really want another baby? And does it need to be **her** baby??

Pros of living with D and possibly of having another baby, possibly with her:

My child would have a sibling plus D's other children as a sort of step-siblings. I would get to have the experience of relaxing into my parenting since I would theoretically know what I'm doing on the second time around, and I would likely not have to work during my second child's babyhood. Having a baby with D in particular would be a great way to tell the system to fuck off, especially if J could actually support that plan. Getting to raise my children with three parents sounds absolutely amazing. Getting to have a larger roll in D's children's lives would also be really cool (and this would happen regardless of second baby status on my end) -- I love them already, and I imagine I'd love them even more with time {while simultaneously wishing, forever and ever, that she didn't have FIVE fucking children 😱😬.)

Cons:

The whole thing could blow my life up in my face. This feels really soon in the grand scheme of things, both to be deciding to have a child with D given that we've only known each other for two and a half years, and for J to even have a ghost of a chance of actually being willing to go along with any part of this. Even if he was willing to give living next door a try (and never fucking mind, “Hey father of my first child I want to have another baby but not with you; with this person who you fucking *hated* two years ago and still have a so/so relationship, but I want you to socially also be a dad to that child...”), it feels like a big, big ask. Laughably big. Like, I’m-an-idiot-if-I-ask-this big.

Of course, there are the other cons, EVEN IF J was somehow on board with everything: likely having to move out of this most perfect neighborhood away from my dear friends, restarting the whole "raising a child" thing again, the presence of so many more kids in my currently only child’s life fundamentally changing how she experiences parental connection, those kid’s own baggage and socialization and it negatively impacting the environment that I am working to cultivate, my ability to pursue my art (though hey, I’m not getting any done *now*, either...  all the way up to the social pressure and stigma around what would be an unusual family no matter what, and the likely social uproar if I pursued my ideal of having babies with different partners and raising them all in community together with many parents. (It sounds so simple and lovely from here. Why does it feel so impossible to achieve?)

How much of those cons matter to me? What sparks joy, what doesn’t, and what’s actually just my taming talking?

D sparks joy. She is incredible and I adore her and I want her in my life every single day. She came over the other night, for a hug and a kiss before she headed to her apartment, and ended up staying to join a video call with [I don’t know if I’ve assigned her a letter; my god I need to update the cast of characters page, or maybe change it to posts... it’s so fucking out of date right now] and J for a bit, and when she sat down with me and petted me... oh good god I just melted into butter. I had the biggest, BIGGEST grin on my face, and kept snuggling into her, because that was what felt good. The way she touches me, the way she cares for me... I want to her to be my wife, to put that formal label on our connection. I used to want to call her my husband, and I’ve recently been longing to call her my wife, and it's honestly been getting harder to resist doing so recently. I'm going to propose to her, I’ve decided. I'm just trying to work out the timing on when, but I feel like I want it to be soon, like within the next month. I will want to tell J first, and that is the thing that I'm considering quite a bit within this: at what point does my desire for D as my wife eclipse my desire for J's acceptance and love? Because I truly feel that I would be risking that. (This is also good time to insert that I am definitely nervous about how much/if she changes much as a person on HRT. What if one day I don't like her any more?? Do I need to wait for that process to be further along before I make big changes in our relationship? If so, then that almost certainly means an end to the idea of having a biological baby together... though that also wouldn't be the end of the world... and maybe that's my sign that I don't actually need to have another baby, that it doesn't feel imperative? Then again, having my first child didn't feel imperative either. I did it for practicality, because I knew I wanted to be a parent. This feels like I want to raise a baby surrounded by the kind of love and support that is accessible to me now, and to see D as another mother to my children.)

All of this raises the question: how small do I want to stay? For how long? My not telling C things is absolutely me choosing to stay small. I'm watching D grow and bloom into her joyful truth, and as unjust as it is, part of her embracing her truth means risking her acceptability in society's eyes, her livelihood, and her safety.

Meanwhile, I don't want to hurt, and I don't want to be alone. But it's not me who wants to leave J, it's J whom I fear would want to leave me. I recognize that I am trying to maintain control of the emotional situation. I recognize that I am hanging back in hopes that he can catch up and heal enough to be able to step forward with me. Am I allowing him to do his work? Am I letting him climb into his car seat or am I making my life less stressful by continuing to lift and strap him in even though he's capable of that work himself? (And if he's just too fucking damaged right now to be able to do it, does it help for me to provide support and scaffolding or am I keeping him from being able to begin that healing process?)

My life and family with J sparks joy. I love that he is our child's father. I love his cooking, his sense of humor, his work ethic. I love his smell and his eyes and his excitement in his work. I love our history together, and I love what we've built in the past three years and how much healthier we are.

What doesn't spark joy is feeling like I'm shrinking myself to fit inside of J's tolerance. Nothing that I want is wrong or bad. Unconventional, for sure. But not bad.

I want to feel loved and embraced. I want to live authentically as a way to honor myself and as an example for child. I want to honor my needs as much as I honor others' needs. I want to feel peace and joy in my relationships, not strain.

I'm going to need to talk this shit over with my therapist - thank goodness I have an appointment soon. I feel like this could wind up to be something big, something really big, and I'm feeling the need for some steadying and head checks.

[ktlsyrtis]

from @ladyshipper:

Serena sputtered into her wine glass, quickly devolving into a coughing fit. Bernie moved to help, but Serena waved her away with a weak “I'm fine,” her face flushed. When she turned back, Sian had pulled over a nearby chair and was patting the seat with a smile. “Come sit next to me Bernie. I want to hear all about you.” Bernie glanced at Serena as she started coughing harder, then walked around the table and slowly lowered herself into the seat. “I understand you've had quite an impact on our dear Rena. Not that I blame her!” Sian leaned in with a flirtatious smile and a wink. “If I had a co-worker who looked like you I'd be tempted to switch teams myself.”

Bernie's astonished eyes flew to Serena, who was currently slugging back most of her glass of shiraz and avoiding her gaze. “In fact, do you have any single friends of the, you know, sapphic persuasion? Men are generally rubbish and from what Rena's been telling me, there are definite perks to your, ah, arrangement.”

Bernie leaned back in her seat, eyes fixed on her increasingly embarrassed girlfriend, a wicked smile curving the corner of her mouth. Two could play at this game. “Oh really? And what are these perks that Rena has been telling you about?” Across the sofa Serena moaned and buried her face in her hands.

Sian shifted closer gleefully, ignoring her friend slowly shrinking in horror beside her. “Well, for one I haven't seen her this shagged to tatters since she dated Dylan Price for three weeks in uni.”

“Sian!” Serena squawked in outrage, eyes wide and cheeks redder than Bernie had ever seen.

“What, it's true! And if there's anyone in this world who needs a proper and regular shagging, it's you Serena. We both know what a complete nightmare you are when you're not getting any.”

Serena glared daggers at both the inelegant snort Bernie was unable to restrain and the mock innocent look on Sian's face, before slumping back against the sofa, a hand over her eyes. “This is a nightmare,” she moaned, “a sodding bloody nightmare.”

Well, if we’re going to talk about this scene, we’re going to talk about my main girl, Sian Kors. The entire basis for this fic (and my ongoing fondest dream) was thinking about the hilarity that would ensue if Sian met Bernie. I truly love the position that Sian holds in Serena’s life, specifically for what it reveal about her. We don’t really have anyone else who knew Serena pre-Holby (except for Edward, but fuck that guy), and every line she has is such a great glimpse into the young, wild child party girl Serena.

This scene was very much designed to play into that. Serena has not only confronted a major revelation about herself and her sexuality, she’s now confronting someone who’s known her for 30+ years. It’s that relationship that gives Sian the freedom to give Serena some shit, which is one of my favorite things about her. My headcanon is that Sian and Serena are fierce friends and have been for ages, the kind that would do anything for each other, but they are also the kind that will call each other on their bullshit. In Serena’s case, that’s her tendency to sometimes take her reputation too seriously. Sian is there to remind her of who she is outside of the hospital and she’s not afraid to embarrass Serena a bit to do it (in fact, she takes a good deal of pleasure in it).

Another nice little tidbit about this scene - at the time it was written, “shagged to tatters” was a phrase that was wandering around the fandom to describe Serena’s blissed out expressions post-The Kill List. I just had to use it here. ;)

[ask for DVD commentary on my fic]

[ikallawrites]

About Me

I was tagged by @nohrianbard! Thanks, fam =w=)b Here you go!

Name/nickname: Ikalla, Adya, Ashley, Ashy

Gender: Female

Star sign: Taurus (Sun)

Height: 5′4″

Hogwarts House: Slytherin (Hogwarts), Thunderbird (Ilvermorny)

Favourite animal: ALL OF THEM

Hours of sleep: 8 - 10. Because I’m lazy and I love sleep. Don’t you dare take it away from me.

Dogs or cats: WHY NOT BOTH

Number of blankets: Only need one unless its super fucking cold. But it don’t get cold in “literally on fire” land USA :^)

Dream trip: I’ve done Japan now so... Spain. Italy. Greece.

Dream job: Teacher! \o/ Or a game programmer. :p

Time: 5:42 PM PST

Birthday: May 4

Favorite Bands: Uhhhhhhhhhh Panic!at the Disco. Fall Out Boy. :stares in the distance like what the hell do I even listen to anymore:

Favorite Solo Artists: :shrugs hard:

Song Stuck In My Head: ‘Google Translate Sings: Shape of You’ By Malinda Kathleen Reese

Last Movie I Watched: Your Name

Last Show I Watched: Boku No Hero Academia

When Did I Create My Blog: I started blogging in like... oh god... 2012 or 2013? Had a main blog which I quickly dumped and abandoned because I made this fandom blog for my writing and other crap. And this one has quickly devolved into my main blog and now all I do is post random shit and faceroll on my keyboard.

What Do I Post/Reblog: Random shit I feel like reblogging. Pokemon. Final Fantasy XIV. Fire Emblem. If you’re lucky I get off my lazy ass and actually do some writing or doodling on the side.

Last Thing I Googled: Dragoon Rotation Guide FFXIV

Other Blogs: One personal blog that has been heavily abandoned cause I don’t get any good content on it xD

Do I Get Asks: NAH. I used to when I was still actually writing but not that much anymore. Don’t really do anything xD

Why I Choose My URL: My old blog was Ikalla22. So this one is IkallaWrites. Cause I faceroll on my keyboard and words appear.

Following: 79

Followers: 133. There’re probably some bots BUT HEY. NO PORN BOTS :D

Lucky Number: Googleplex because what even. (22)

Favorite Instrument: CELLO. EVEN THO I DON’T PLAY IT. I ADMIRE IT FROM A DISTANCE ON MY TEENY TINY STRING INSTRUMENT FROM HELL (Violin). (Also played piano and flute)

What Am I Wearing: PJs! :D

Favorite Food: Foooooooooood :drools:

Nationality: Asian. Just. Asian.

Favorite Song: Anything from musicals. I fucking love musicals. (Although I’m really obssessed with “Waving Through a Window” From Dear Evan Hansen)

Last Book Read: I just finished The Rose Society by Marie Lu and an currently reading A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan.

Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like To Join: Pokemon. Fire Emblem (I’m one of the village people). Fantasy Life (It’s like Final Fantasy but a million times less scary and full of giant primals that’ll fucking murder me :’) )

Tag some folks: UHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMM @crunchyxushi @windypenguin @soileinepoisson ??? OH AND @solaireon @theceejay if you guys want to.