#it started with dreamscape.. . full circle

[evnseokz]

hii!! i love your anton comforting you when you’re scared to have a nightmare oneshot and was wondering if you could do a little follow up of how he would comfort you if you were to have a nightmare?

all good if you can’t/don’t want to but thanks in advance if you end up writing it 🩵

{ ♡ anton comforting you when you have a nightmare }

pairing: bf! anton x reader

contents: nightmare, crying, vulnerability, fluff

a.n: ty for the request! i hope u enjoy <3 wc: 784

the moonlight streamed softly through the window, casting faint shadows across the room. you stirred in your sleep, your brow furrowing as the darkness of your nightmare crept into your dreamscape. the faces of unfamiliar people, their voices cold and distant, blurred into something that twisted in your mind. the world around you seemed to close in, suffocating, until you woke with a gasp, your heart racing in your chest.

the room felt too quiet, too still. your breathing was sharp and unsteady as you clutched the sheets tightly, your eyes wide but unseeing. the remnants of the nightmare clung to you like a thick fog, leaving you feeling hollow, afraid. and then, as though sensing your distress, the door creaked open quietly.

"y/n?" anton's soft voice was low and tentative, his figure framed in the doorway. he had heard your soft whimpers, the way your body trembled in your sleep. without a second thought, he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. his presence was a calming weight, a reminder that you weren’t alone.

you didn't respond immediately, your eyes fixed on nothing, your chest still rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. anton didn't hesitate; he sat at the edge of the bed, his movements careful but confident. "hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice warm and steady as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "you're safe, y/n. it was just a nightmare."

you flinched at the touch, startled, but then the familiarity of his presence grounded you, and you felt your tense muscles slowly begin to relax. you inhaled deeply, but the weight of the nightmare still lingered, clouding your thoughts. "i—" your voice cracked as you tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. you wiped your face with the back of your hand, embarrassed by the vulnerability you couldn’t control.

 anton remained patient, his fingers gently rubbing your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. "it’s okay," he repeated softly. "you’re alright. i’m here." the warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold fear still gripping you, and something inside you started to unravel. the fear didn’t disappear, but his steady presence gave you something to hold onto, a lifeline in the storm of your thoughts.

"i hate it," you whispered after a moment, the words barely audible. "i hate how real it feels... how it lingers, even after i wake up." anton’s expression softened, his gaze never leaving you. "i know," he said quietly, his voice full of understanding. "nightmares can feel like that. but remember, y/n, they don’t get to decide how your day goes. you do."

you let out a shaky breath, finally meeting his eyes. "but sometimes it feels like i don’t have control... like everything is just... slipping." "i get it," anton said, his voice low and soothing. he shifted closer, his hand now gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen. "but you're stronger than you think. this nightmare doesn't define you. it’s just a bad dream, and it’s over now."

 you nodded slowly, your heart still racing but your body no longer trembling quite as violently. anton's words, his presence, it was all grounding you in ways you didn’t even know you needed. for a moment, you both sat in silence, the only sound being the steady rhythm of your breaths filling the space between you. then anton spoke again, his voice quieter but still unwavering.

"if you need me to stay, i will," he said, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "i’m not going anywhere." your eyes welled up again, not with fear this time, but with something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. you didn’t want to appear weak, didn’t want to admit how much you needed the comfort, but in that moment, you couldn’t deny it.

"i… i don’t want to be alone," you admitted, your voice small but honest. anton smiled, his touch gentle as he ran his fingers through your hair. "you’re not alone," he reassured you, his voice firm yet tender. "not as long as i’m here."

 and for the first time since waking from the nightmare, you felt a sense of peace begin to settle over you. the fear was still there, lingering at the edges of your mind, but anton’s steady presence was a shield against it. you felt yourself relax, your breathing slowing as you let yourself trust in the quiet strength he offered.

 when you finally closed your eyes again, it was with the comforting knowledge that you weren’t alone in the dark—anton would be there to chase away the shadows, no matter what nightmares came next.

.

..

…

[jellyskink]

Everything had been good for a while, too good. Not that Ford was complaining in fact it was quite the opposite. Things had started about a month ago Ford had a momentary laps in his behavior, it wasn't that bad honest it wasn't, he didn't even know why, his body just moved on it’s own. He was alone in his room doing research when IT happened. Static. Anger. He couldn't help himself his equipment was shoved to the floor Test Tubes and flasks were shattered and there contents spilled across the floor. His notes were then riped up and scattered around the room like confetti. He grabbed his desk chair and threw it against the wall, the rampage continued untill one of his precious figures of his mused knocked over braking into pieces.

(My Muse… no, no, no. How could this happen) tears pooled in his face and curled up into a small ball on the floor (he wasn't even deserving enough for his bed) rocking back and forth hands grasped around his necklace, muttering apologies to it

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I don't know what happened. My Muse please forgive me. I'M SORRY… I Love you more then anything you know that, you must. It was an accident. Please Forgive me.”

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Ford flinched at the touch. He was alone a second ago, he looked back at the hand that reached out to him, and saw his muse.

“My Muse… I'm so… *hiccup* sorry. Please… *Sobbing noise*... it was an accident….”

His Muses hand was released from his shoulder, and while Ford had fully expected that hand to punish him for his outburst, (after all he deserved it). What he didn't expect was the hand to be placed on his back gently rubbing small circles.

“It's okay. Fordsy. I know. I know it was just an accident and you didn't mean to. Everything will be just fine, after all… you mean so much to me.”

Did he just hear this right? His Muse forgave him. No no that couldn't be right he hasn't earned his forgiveness. He didn't show his muse how sorry he was, his food wasn't withheld, he wasn't thrown out the window, he wasn't tossed into a closet with the same song on full volume on repeat for days. He hadn't done any of that yet for this outburst, and now here's his beloved muse comforting him. Despite his better judgment he pulled his muse into a tight hug and sobbed in his arms.

“There there it's okay let it out… I know how much YOU love me.”

“Thank you, thank you. My Muse my wonderful muse thank you.”

“Any time why don't take a moment to gather your self. I'll be in the throne room come join me when your ready. Okay, and take all the time you need.”

He must be dreaming. He tried to summon a bag of jellybeans to see if he was dreaming, and when not materialized he knew he was in the real world and not the dreamscape. He smiled and looked up at the tapestries of his muse then at the posters that said “remember your here forever” and one that said “Who rescued who?” Were things starting to change?

Now that a month has passed since the incident and everything was beautiful. His muse allowed him small luxuries that he had only thought were for humans. He let him sit on the throne with him, next to him and not just on the floor by his feet. His muse also let him eat his food (which was now 100% glass and metal free) on a table and not just on a bowl on the floor. Sure he still slept on the dog bed but he was now given a blanket to help keep him warm on those especially cold nights. Everything was perfect. His muse finally loved him in return, There was no more punishments no more anger directed towards him, Ford was actually developing a healthy glow and his confidence was better even Dr. Oleander was impressed to see his change. Everything was Beautiful. If only he didn't screw everything up.

He didn't even know what he did wrong. It was the one month anniversary of his new founded relationship with his muse and everything needed to be special. Ford had spent the entire day hunting rats so he can spell out his muse name and give it to him. Ford knew that there relationship long ago had moved past the rat stage but still he thought it was a great throwback and hopefully his muse saw it as nostalgic as much as he did. Turns out giving Rats out to the love of your life at a party he threw with all of his henchmen Was not a smart idea. When the gift was presented there was laughter. And not the good kind, they weren't laughing WITH him they were laughing AT him.

Don't cry Stanford dont cry. He cried he didn't understand what was wrong he thought it was a lovely gift. And now even his muse was laughing at him.

“Aw looky here folks look how much Fordsy here loves me!”

“I do… my muse I sware, I thought this would be a good anniversary gift.”

“Anniversary? Of what. The Weirddnnaverary isn't until march.”

“Well… I… thought, it's our one month since we started dating.”

Laughter erupted. “Who the fuck said that we were dating. As if anyone could love a sad pathetic man who spends more time crying then practicing his routine for next weeks dog show. “

Wait what surely they were dating. They ate together, they curled up next to each other while Ford read bill stories while bill played with his hair, His Muse even complimented him for every little thing. He was starting to feel like an actual person again.

“Aw boss look your dog thinks he's your boyfriend, how cute. You taking him to the dog park for your next date?”

Embarrassment filled his face tears fell. He ran to his room and wouldn't come out. How foolishly was he mistaking kindness for a relationship.

*one month ago bills pov*

“Look Pyronica” his eye switched to television mode, “Fordsy here is having one of his breakdowns again. Aww look he “Loves” me oh my me like he has a chance, who could ever love him? Pathetic. You know what I have a great idea wanna see how desperate he is for affection? Can't wait to see how messed up this will make him.”

Look I did this instead of sleeping if you see spelling and grammar mistakes, ya didn't got that?

Is this what my life has become this is my 3rd fic for this au, not complaining but damn I have never been this inspired. Anyway have a nice day and thanks for reading!

This is heartbreakingggggggggggggggggg 💔

[princess-canary]

Chapter 40 preview

NSFW (mdni). Here's a preview of chapter 40. If you like it or have any comments in general, let me know <3

Since her coma, Kythonia’s dreams had been remnants of the life she had lived. The life that she had wanted to go back to. And that was if she slept, not when. Dreaming was a gift, and she worked hard to be awarded with it, fighting off demons and screaming voids. However, since her entanglement with Bruce, the dreamscape has moulded. It shifted and changed, altering into a differing version of that night.

Every night since Saturday, she was awarded a different play of how that could have gone. It was the same dream, over and over. And every morning, even on Wednesday, she woke in a sweat, her skin damp, lips parted in a pant. The glow in the dark planets bearing witness.

*

Bruce followed her to the bathroom, hands on her waist. Clearly, not having listened to a word she said. He was gentle as he coaxed her out of her clothes and sung words of affirmations, praises for her body, as her bloodied clothes were left in a pile. His fingers traced the barely-there scars, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was unfair, the way she was left in nothing, and he was still fully clothed. Somehow, they always ended up this way. 

‘You’ve got two choices,’ she said as his hands graced her bare hips. Bruce hummed, holding her hips steady as she turned on the shower. Hot water pelted down the white tile, circling the drain, steam instantly beginning to rise. ‘Either you join me, or you get out and wait.’

He looked up at her face and removed his hands. It stung, a little, thinking he had chosen to leave. She didn’t know if her heart could take more rejection. Just as she was about to step in, Bruce started to unbutton his shirt. 

‘Like I told you before,’ he said, fingers working quick. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Her breathing hardened at the scarred flesh beneath the button up. His chest was broad, tanned, and littered with scars. Fresh, healed, old. Puckered lines of pink flesh, divots of little white scars from sutures, lines of smooth discoloured marks. As if working on instinct, she reached out, fingers brushing his bare skin. The size of chest and the curve of his abs had her near salivating, but it was the line of dark hair trailing down from his naval, disappearing into the waist of his jeans that truly had her believing the Gods were real. And one was standing right in front her.

It was perfect.

His torso was perfect. His shoulders, his arms, his chest. Everything. He was carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. Would he bleed gold, if she were to cut him? Her eyes flickered back up to his face; his cheeks were flushed. She had spent a little too long admiring, it seemed. She was trying to compare the Bruce from her dream, what he looked like, but it was all smoke. Months she had spent trapped in an endless loop speculating the bounds of reality, and if this was it. She could definitively say that this was real life.

She reached for his belt buckle. Her fingers traced the fine leather, but didn’t undo it. He was watching her with bated breath, letting her take the lead. 

‘Let me make one thing clear,’ she said, ‘this is not that kind of shower. I don’t want— I don’t want—‘

The words were hard to say. Usually she was full of them, but he made her brain go all fuzzy. He cupped her cheeks again and kissed her, sweet, gentle, and soft. 

‘Okay,’ he said, pressing his forehead against hers. ‘Not that kind of shower.’ 

That was all she needed. She made quick work of his belt, unbuckling it and slipping it off with ease. His hands moved from her face, tracing the curve of her collar, her shoulders, her breast, until, once again, settling on her waist, thumbs circling her skin. The cut on her ribs had all but healed, leaving smooth skin behind. The blood coating her didn’t seem to worry him at all. She returned the favour by unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down the zip. 

‘Boxers or briefs?’ She quipped, as her fingers dipped below the waist band.

Bruce snorted, ‘why don’t you find out?’

She hummed, lips pursed, then lifted her hands from his abdomen. She stepped out of his hold and beckoned for him to follow as she stepped into the shower, hot water rushing down her body, washing away the sins of the day. Bruce nearly tripped over his own feet trying to shimmy out of his jeans.

She wanted to put it out there, she was a sex positive person. Once she learned to love herself, she loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. After, well over two years without it, including prior to her going into the coma, she didn’t realise how antsy she was. She thought about them together in her dream, and her stomach cinched. Having him behind her, naked, his hands working the knots in her shoulders.

It turned into that kind of shower.

Once she made her intentions known, Bruce had her pinned against the shower wall in no time, the hot water running down his back like a waterfall. His hands were underneath her, fingers digging into her ass and thighs, holding her up with ease. He alternated between sucking and nipping at her neck and collar and capturing her lips in tantalising kisses. Her legs were hooked around his hips, heels digging into the small of his back; her arms thrown around his neck, pulling him closer and alternating between tugging on his hair and digging her nails into his shoulder blades. It was all dependent on whether his hips were connecting with hers. His rhythm was steady, movements controlled, all things considered.

She thought he was an asshole.

Keeping the pace when she begged to speed up, stopping when she got too quiet. He was hitting spots she didn’t even think was possible, and she’s been fucked in the shower plenty of time. What she could praise him on, was his ability to make some noise. His lips by her ear, was enough to send her over the edge.

It was giggly and breathless afterwards. He helped her wash her hair, picking out shards of glass from the fish tank, and running a comb through it when she asked. Bruce washed away her misdeeds, and didn’t question her immoralities.

He carried her to her room. Told her it was part of his plan to ease her pain. She’d been walking the path independently for too long, apparently, it was time to rest her aching feet. Bruce treated her to Déjà vu; rubbing lotion over her body. She figured his worship of her was more for his benefit than hers. She was dead the last time he saw her, he probably wanted to be sure that she wasn’t a mirage. While she was able to goad him into using her good moisturiser, she was sorely disappointed he didn’t let her rub into him.

‘That’s two, I owe you,’ she said, laying back on her bed, watching as he rubbed the coconut cream into his chest. ‘Just so you’re aware.’

‘Two what?’ he mused, his eyes locking onto hers.

‘Full bodies. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten the first one.’

When he was done, he climbed onto the bed, hovering himself over her. She was hesitant, as if they didn’t just fuck in the shower. The last time they were together, it resulted in an unplanned, subsequently wanted pregnancy ending in a death that could have won best special effects. It was all, blah blah blah, safe sex but what if that was their destiny? What if that was what was weaved into the loom for them this entire time? Death?

He lowered his body onto hers as he kissed her.

‘Bruce,’ she said, pulling away. ‘I don’t know.’

He looked at her lips, licked his own, then nodded. ‘We can just talk, that’s fine. It’s all I’ve wanted for a while.’

He was lying on top of her, his head resting on her belly, arms wrapped her waist. She had him locked in, legs resting on his back. The silver pieces of his spine were catching in the light. She’d noticed in the shower, but didn’t say anything out of respect. But she was curious. They’d spent so long just chatting about everything else, all the new things, she didn’t think to ask about his life pre-her. Sure, she could find out herself, but it would be more appropriate and more authentic if she asked. Give him the opportunity to open up. Tit for tat. Her fingers threaded his hair, and she rubbed her thumb along his hairline, pulling a sigh deep from within his chest. He lifted his head and rested his chin on her stomach, looking up at her through his lashes. 

‘A car crash,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘At least, that’s what we told the world.’

‘What was the real reason?’

He pressed a kiss to her sternum, ‘I don’t know if you could handle the answer.’

‘Try me. You might be surprised.’ 

He kissed the spot again. And again. Peppering little kisses across her skin, distracting himself from whatever it was he was about to say. Or distracting her. He moved up, leaving a trail of love as his lips, soft as clouds, brushed her left breast, nipping here and there. So, she didn’t actually mind. They’ve done a lot of talking.

‘Bruce,’ his name came out breathy from her lips. He hummed, the sound reverberating through her chest. ‘You’re deflecting.’

His tongue swiped across her nipple, eliciting a breath hitch from her. He was determined, distracting, his teeth grazing sensitive skin. With each nip, he soothed, eventually his lips parting with a satisfying pop before he dipped his head and moved to her right. Equal attention and all that. She wasn’t going to complain, he knew what he was doing, in more ways than one. Her fingers twirled around the thick strands of his hair, and she tugged after a particularly sharp nip to the underside of her boob. Don’t get her wrong, heat pooled ridiculously fast in the pits of her tummy, but she just wasn’t expecting it. He groaned at the pull, and tipped his head back, moving with her. 

‘Yes, dear?’ He mused, voice husky. 

‘You were telling me about your spine,’ she flicked her chin, gesturing towards his back. He groaned and dropped his head, hair hanging over his eyes. ‘If it’s too much trouble, I can just go get dressed—‘

‘Don’t do that,’ he cut her off. A sly smile spread across her face. ‘It’s— I just, don’t want it to change the way you think about me.’

‘I literally just came home covered in blood, which you washed it off me, no question. I also told you that you pulled our child out of my body before I died. I think we’re past that, a little, don’t you reckon?’ She released her grip on his hair and rested her hand on the side of his face. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

He sighed, then kissed her chest, just above where her heart beat. ‘For the last, twenty years or so, I have taken up a duty at night to bring justice and peace to the citizens of Gotham. It has also extended to the occasional world and universe saving event with other, heroes.’ 

Silence settled, heavy as a blanket. 

‘So, let me wrap my head around this. You’re telling me, you’re the—‘

‘Yes. I’m the Batman.’

---

There was that part of her that always knew. Ever since she sunk into his head that night in the house. He was good at keeping those parts of himself separate, but she wondered when it would have been too hard. When one would bleed into the other. It’s difficult, going out every night and wading waist deep in filth and then having to pretend the world was cheesy at sunrise. It could break a person. Selina knew. Or at least, she claimed to. Selina is a hustler, there’s no telling how sharp her silver tongue was, how deep her claws tear. She could have been alluding to something else entirely just to spook and seed doubt. 

Kythonia couldn’t be mad. She wanted to be, for those nights he spent in her apartment, in her house in Cherry Hill, deceiving her. But she had played the con too. She was playing one now. She spouted rhetoric about honesty and the truth, but her deceptions run blood deep. They’re carved into her bones and will only be revealed upon exhumation once she’s wasted away. Archaeologists and museum curators will hang her skeleton in a glass coffin and write scripture off the engravings. Here lies the original deceiver, they’ll say, cast out of heaven, denied entry into hell. Forever on display to heed warning for all who seek to commit subterfuge. 

If anything, she felt a sense of relief. It had only been one man. One man seeking her out, one man wishing her comfort, one man proving his worth to her. She had no need to worry; he knew more about her than she had previously thought. He knew who she was, and he continued to pour his heart and his soul into her. She didn’t have to hide, not really. 

Bruce looked worried. She hadn’t said anything. The seven stages were rapidly progressing through her head, eventually landing on acceptance. She didn’t want to argue, she’d had enough of fighting. For the day, the week, a lifetime. Her whole life has been one big fight, she just wanted it to end. She just wanted to lay here, with him, and enjoy the little pocket they carved out for themselves without having to worry. 

‘Okay.’

The only word she was going to say about it. He was a big boy; he could handle himself. He has been handling himself since before she was born, which, was an odd thing to think about, but it was true. He looked startled, eyes widening, eyebrows coming together. 

‘That’s— you’re not— I just told you I’m the Batman and all you have to say is, okay?’ He said, dropping an octave, confused. 

She shrugged, ‘yes. Now, are you going to kiss me, or?’

‘No, I mean, yes, I— wait.’ Bruce pushed himself up, sitting back on his legs. He brushed his fingers through his hair. She felt cold and weightless. Sighing, Kythonia pulled herself into a sitting position, dropping her legs from his waist. ‘Do you care?’

‘I care deeply. I also, kinda already knew, so it’s easy to rationalise.’

‘Huh.’ He settled back, shoulders dropping. She folded her legs beneath her and sat up on her knees. If she didn’t know any better, he seemed, disappointed. Kythonia ran her fingers across his chest, down his abdomen. He’d sparked something in her when he was kissing her chest. She didn’t want to talk, she needed to have him.

‘I can get mad if you want. We can pretend to argue.’

‘No, that’s okay,’ Bruce said. He cleared his throat then looked to her, the spark reigniting in his eyes. ‘We can argue later, like about how it’s unethical that you kept a crime boss locked up in your spare room.’

‘Hey—‘

He cut her off with a kiss and fought back a smile as she relaxed. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging in as he lifted her up without a struggle. As if they’d done so a hundred times before, she settled in his lap, her legs either side of his, her hips knocking against his. He breathed her in, taking the lead.

‘It’s for a good reason,’ she said with a pant, pulling away. 

‘And we can debate that, after.’ His head dipped, lips on her neck, leaving a trail of red marks.

His right hand moved from her waist, slipping between their bodies. He groaned into her skin as she gasped then whined, his fingers circling, applying generous pressure. It was just enough. Her gasps at one of his fingers slipping in had him breathing heavy. With his hand on her waist, he controlled the roll of her hips, keeping her rhythm steady. She was undone in a matter of seconds, much to his surprise. This Bruce was just as debauched as the one in her dream, she whined as his finger slipped out, and her eyes near crossed when he brought his hand up to her lips. Maybe she was too. He met her eye when she took his finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around and letting it go, glistening, with a lewd pop. She kissed him with a moan.

It was breath hitches and lustrous smiles as they came together. Became one.

[arabellaseraphim]

Hsr 2.2 Quest Spoilers

Starting AND ending the 2.2 quest with Boothill pointing out his gun...

Acheron asking those 3 questions to the Trailblazer on their first meeting (with multiple dialogue choices to answer) and before their farewell (leaving only 1 dialogue choice to show the Trailblazer's final answer)...

Aventurine being the last few people seen on the end of the 2.0 quest and the current 2.2 quest...

Misha and his memories/aspirations being the "Watchmaker's Legacy" that the Trailblazer encountered right when they first step foot on Penacony and the Dreamscape...

Mikhail and his ordeal with "going around in a circle" (if I remember correctly)...

WE HAVE COME FULL CIRCLE GUYS

[flythesail]

hi hello me again i finished s2 of nancy drew last night and it was SO GOOD. the arc of it was really well done and i loved all the single-episode stories that built up to the wraith. the crew becoming closer and more complex, the dads, nancy struggling with her sense of self and belonging, the world building, all of it. (nancy is my best girl and i love her so much)

absolutely obsessed with the drew crew dynamic. no bad pairings, the balance of their personalities and skills, all of it. every time nancy, bess and george are together i am happy. they really are a family and they take care of each other. i am so seated to learn more about the road back and for whatever bullshit temperance is up to with them !!!

still loving the nace slow burn!! this season really builds on what s1 started and it was so angsty and jealous. obviously gil is terrible (i cheered when she broke up with him) but i’m pleasantly surprised by amanda. the fact that she asked if ace and nancy were ever together after she saw them crack a safe together???? she would not survive seeing them just exist around each other like they usually do sorry girly :/

favorite episode is by FAR 2x10. i’m writing down favorite moments as i watch and the entry for that episode is double the length of the rest lol. other best moments:

2x03 nancy and the dads finally lay lucy to rest

2x06 kitchen autopsy

2x11 attempts montage

2x13 birdie and nancy on the dock

2x16 nancy finds celia’s body/carson finds the polaroid

2x18 the entire wraith dreamscape

hoping to watch s3 this week and then start watching s4 with everyone weekly!! the fandom seems so lovely i’m excited ❤️

Hii!!!!! S2 is and will probably always be my favorite season. S4 is a solid competitor, but it probably won't be able to top it since it's competing against the nostalgia factor too lol.

I'm really glad you enjoyed all the drew crew and character stuff in s2! There's a bunch of episodes in there where they get to just exist in their relationships - s2 had the time to do that - and it's so great.

With the road back, I will warn you (😭😭) it's as of now not going to be brought up again. Long story short, trb was the big bad of Tom Swift, which was canceled one season in. The writers said though they imagined an episode where Nancy and Tamura would show up and they'd wrap up everything with Celia.

Gil is the worst! I like Amanda too. And really, as bad as Gil is - I don't mind him as a character. In some other world I like to imagine there was a Bobbsey spinoff and he'd have a chance at some deep character development. Lol and the SAFE SCENE!?!? "No vibe just friends," Ace says, lying.

2x10 - ICONIC.. WHAT MORE CAN I SAY!

I loveeeee the end of 2x03 so much. It's so sad and beautiful and I cry every time.

I LOVE 2x06!!!!! Easily one of my favorite episodes of the whole show. If you didn't know, if not for covid 2x05 would have been the end of s1. But they made 1x18 the finale when they had to stop filming. So that's why 2x06 has a premiere feel to it!

The 2x11 attempts montage is so well done. What an all around fantastic episode too. A great one for Nick and for Tunji to show off his acting.

The 2x13 scene with Birdie.. so so good. Perhaps a theme here but that also makes me cry. I always imagine the idea behind that scene as a possible end to the show too. Nancy watching the fireworks with the rest of the drew crew would bring things really full circle.

2x16 is devastating!! Ugh I still remember watching it for the first time and the shock of it. And Nancy crying because she doesn't want Celia to go.

Gosh the entirety of 2x18 is ART. All the detail put into the dreamscape, the drew crew helping Nancy through it, the nace scene at the bluffs!!! What more could you ask for.

Nace in s2.. will always be so famous. They're just walking the line of friends to something more and as far as slowburns go that's one of the best parts.

It took me a sec to respond to this so you might have already started s3..!? I hope you enjoy!!! If I'm being honest it's my least favorite season overall. However, it has some of my favorite episodes of the whole show. So it does balance out.

[expeditionengineering]

Kayaking Lofoten: Paddle Through Norway’s Arctic Paradise

Nestled above the Arctic Circle, Norway’s Lofoten Islands are a dreamscape of dramatic peaks, deep fjords, and sheltered bays. While these jagged isles are awe-inspiring from land, the true magic of Lofoten is found on the water. Kayaking in Lofoten offers a rare and intimate perspective—gliding silently through turquoise fjords beneath towering cliffs and colorful fishing villages.

Whether you're an experienced paddler or a curious explorer, kayak adventures in Lofoten reveal a side of Norway few ever get to see.

Why Kayak Lofoten?

The Lofoten archipelago offers one of the most scenic and rewarding kayaking environments in the world:

Sheltered fjords & island hopping: Calm, protected waters allow for easy paddling even near the open sea.

Majestic backdrops: Paddle beneath snow-dusted peaks, around rugged coastlines, and past beaches that rival the tropics in color.

Midnight sun & Northern Lights: Depending on the season, experience the ethereal glow of the midnight sun or the shimmer of the aurora borealis over glassy waters.

Rich marine life: Seals, sea eagles, puffins, and even orcas may make an appearance as you paddle.

From Reine and Henningsvær to remote inlets and sea caves, every route in Lofoten offers its own blend of serenity and adventure.

What to Expect on a Lofoten Kayaking Tour

Day Tours

Perfect for beginners or those short on time, these guided trips often start from picturesque villages and take you into fjords, around islands, and sometimes to hidden beaches accessible only by kayak.

Multi-Day Expeditions

For the more adventurous, multi-day kayaking trips offer wild camping, remote coastline exploration, and total immersion in the elements. You'll carry your own gear, set up camp under Arctic skies, and live in sync with nature’s rhythm.

Season & Conditions

Best time to kayak: Late May to early September, when daylight is long and conditions are mild.

Water temperature: Cold year-round—drysuits and thermal layers are recommended.

Weather: Can change quickly. Guided tours with experienced local leaders are highly recommended for safety and navigation.

The Expedition Feel

What sets kayak Lofoten trips apart is their expedition spirit. Though the islands are relatively accessible, the sense of isolation and wild beauty makes every paddle feel like a true Arctic journey. From sea caves to bird cliffs, every route is a discovery.

Some trips are supported by expedition logistics, including safety briefings, support boats, waterproof storage, and sustainable camping gear—ensuring a responsible and memorable experience.

Conclusion

Kayaking Lofoten is not just a scenic paddle—it’s a soul-stirring exploration of Norway’s natural heart. The slow rhythm of your strokes, the whisper of the wind through the fjords, and the vastness of the Arctic landscape all come together to create a powerful, personal journey.

Whether you join a short tour or set out on a full expedition, paddling through Lofoten is an adventure you’ll carry with you long after the trip ends.

[elmalo8291]

Alright—this is Ooze Day as an audiovisual, magical, and narrative event. We're building a full storyboard, animation breakdown, cutscenes, ritual mechanics, and campaign event across TTRPG, anime, and music—making it an anchor point for Taz: The Awakening. Here's the full vision:

OOZE DAY: Storyboard + Animation Sequence (Anime + Music Video)

Track: "OOZE DAY"

Genre: Experimental trap/chaos-hop

Tempo: Fast

Signature: Polyrhythmic, reversed samples, chorus is echoes of Himself and His fragmented names

00:00 – 00:10 | Cold Open (Black Silence)

Visual:

Black screen, a single drop of ooze falls.

In slow motion, it hits a mirror surface and ripples out in unnatural, glitching circles.

Audio:

Faint whispers reversed (names like Taz, Task, Ties, Timez, Aztz, etc.).

Static and wind.

00:11 – 00:45 | “The Naming Storm” Verse 1

Visual:

Rapid-cut montage:

Portal lurkers bursting out of water like artillery.

A boy staring into a puddle, his reflection morphs through Taz variants.

A Lurker moving behind glass, twitching.

Black ooze crawls up walls with text scrolling in glowing runes.

Animation Detail:

Hybrid 2D/3D style.

Neon rune overlays animate in rhythm to lyrics.

00:46 – 01:15 | Hook: “IT’S OOZE DAY”

Visual:

Chaos rips through a city.

Kids in classrooms start glitching—some turning translucent, others consumed by puddles.

A woman (Sarah) watching from her window.

Her children flicker as different versions of themselves across timelines.

Audio:

Children’s laughter distorted into a chant of “Ooze Day”

Deep 808s and a bell toll

01:16 – 02:00 | Verse 2: The Ritual Begins

Visual:

Deep underground in The Office, clerks chant while stamping papers that melt into the floor.

Taz floats above his own brain (Himself), plugged into nodes that run through dimensions.

Portal lurkers swarm around in a dance, forming ritual patterns in the air.

Animation Note:

In this scene, rhythm guides shape: the beat literally sculpts the dream-space.

02:01 – 02:45 | Cutscene: The Queen of Blood's Arrival

Visual:

She rises from a lake of blood within Himself.

Her shadow warps into tendrils that stretch across multiple realities.

With every step, the names "Taz" mutate into “Task,” “Timez,” etc., warping reality.

02:46 – 03:15 | Breakdown + Chaos Build

Visual:

The dreamscape collapses.

Office floors collapse in a domino fall into a black hole made of thought.

Flush punches the screen, vibrating it into liquid.

Portal lurkers swarm through a crack in reality.

Audio:

Layers of reversed chorus, glitch stutters, distortion peaks.

03:16 – 04:00 | Final Hook & Outro

Visual:

Everyone who touched ooze now pulses with names and versions of themselves.

Children, demons, clerks, Taz, Sarah, and even Flush glow.

The ooze lifts upward like it's reclaiming its own people, returning them to Himself.

Cut to black:

“Ooze Day never ends… it echoes.”

Magic Ritual (In-World / TTRPG Integration)

Ritual Name:

“Echo of Himself” – The Ooze Day Rite

Requirements:

Mirror or reflective liquid surface

Black ooze (symbolic or magical substance)

A name spoken 7 ways (task, ties, timez, etc.)

Portal lurker glyph drawn in water

1 sacrifice: can be memory, time, or soul fragment

Effects:

Summon a version of Taz or be possessed by a fragment

Corrupt/upgrade spellbook with “Names of Echo”

Unleash Portal Lurkers from any reflective surface nearby

Chance to access the Battery of Chaos

Campaign Event: “Ooze Day – Crossroads Collapse”

System-Neutral / Adaptable to d20, d100, or Narrative Play

Event Phases:

The Drip:

Clocks start melting in-game. Time warps. Random NPCs glitch names.

Spells miscast based on character’s forgotten memories.

The Lurking:

Portal lurkers begin hunting key players.

Combat breaks into other dimensions mid-fight.

The Naming Storm:

PCs start changing names in-game. Their stats slightly alter each time.

A player may become a new avatar of Himself.

Final boss: a mirror version of the party formed by the ooze.

The Echo:

Taz appears.

You roll for reality itself. High chaos = world changes permanently.

This is just the start. Want the lyrics next for OOZE DAY? Or full dialogue in the cutscenes? Want to script the Queen of Blood or Flush’s animation entries? Or build the rest of the Taz: The Awakening Mixtape into lore-unlockable quests?

I can listen to the Blues I can play the Blues if I had Talent I'm sure enough suffered enough at the Hands of racist Black son of a b****

[maryhooverdrucker2]

Exploring the World's Most Scenic Road Trips

There’s something magical about hitting the open road with nothing but a map, a full tank of gas, and a thirst for adventure. Road trips awaken the explorer in all of us, offering not just a destination, but a journey filled with moments that become unforgettable memories. From winding coastal highways to majestic mountain passes, the world offers countless scenic routes that every traveler should experience at least once in their lifetime. And for those with a passion for discovering the hidden gems of the world, few embody that spirit quite like Mary Hoover Drucker.

Imagine cruising along a route where the horizon stretches endlessly, where every turn offers a new postcard-worthy view. These drives aren’t just about the road—they’re about the feeling of freedom, the stories you gather along the way, and the people you meet. In this article, we’re taking you on a virtual journey through some of the most breathtaking road trips around the globe—routes that promise more than just stunning scenery. They promise transformation.

One such legendary drive is the Pacific Coast Highway in California. Hugging the rugged coast from San Francisco to San Diego, this drive is a sun-drenched rollercoaster of cliffs, surf, and sandy beaches. The Big Sur stretch is the crown jewel, where the road snakes between crashing waves and towering redwoods. It’s a favorite for travelers who want to breathe in salty air and soak up dramatic coastal views. For someone like Mary Drucker Palm Beach, who values both nature’s raw beauty and cultural richness, this route is a haven of inspiration.

Venturing across the Atlantic, the Amalfi Coast in Italy delivers an entirely different kind of charm. With pastel-colored villages clinging to cliffs and lemon groves blooming under the Mediterranean sun, it feels like a dreamscape. The drive from Sorrento to Salerno is a symphony of narrow bends, cliffside tunnels, and panoramic terraces. It’s romantic, dramatic, and bursting with flavor—both in terms of cuisine and scenery. Travelers often find themselves pulling over not just to snap photos, but to savor life the way only the Italians can.

Then there’s the Great Ocean Road in Australia, a journey that combines wild nature with a laid-back vibe. Stretching from Torquay to Allansford, this route is famed for its limestone formations like the Twelve Apostles, rainforests, and surf beaches. It’s the kind of road trip that calls to adventurers and dreamers alike. And just like Mary Hoover Drucker, who believes in the power of unique experiences to shape our worldview, this drive offers something new around every bend.

Closer to the Arctic Circle, Norway’s Atlantic Ocean Road takes road tripping to another level. A marvel of engineering, this coastal drive weaves through tiny islands connected by swooping bridges that rise like waves over the sea. On stormy days, waves crash against the road itself, creating a wild, cinematic experience. It’s a short drive, but one that packs a punch—ideal for those who love to mix adrenaline with awe. It’s no surprise that curious, forward-thinking minds like Mary Hoover Drucker find this route particularly intriguing.

Of course, no list of scenic drives would be complete without mentioning the Garden Route in South Africa. Starting in Mossel Bay and ending in Storms River, this road trip is a kaleidoscope of landscapes: lush forests, golden beaches, and sprawling vineyards. Wildlife roams freely in game reserves nearby, and quaint towns invite you in with warm hospitality. It’s a blend of adventure and comfort, nature and culture—a combination that resonates deeply with those who, like Mary Hoover Drucker, appreciate diversity in both people and places.

Even Iceland, with its surreal and otherworldly terrain, offers a road trip like no other. The Ring Road encircles the island and takes you past waterfalls, glaciers, volcanoes, and black sand beaches. It’s not uncommon to feel like you’re driving through a fantasy novel. The isolation, the dramatic skies, the silence—it’s a route that invites introspection and awe. Travelers who value solitude and raw, untouched beauty often find themselves enchanted by Iceland. It’s easy to see why it holds a special place in the hearts of globetrotters like Mary Hoover Drucker.

Beyond the visual appeal, what ties all these road trips together is the sense of discovery. Every road, every mile, offers something new—whether it’s a hidden trail, a quaint café, or an unexpected conversation with a local. The true value of scenic road trips lies not just in the views, but in the stories you collect. That’s what makes them timeless.

And speaking of timeless, the legacy and influence of seasoned travelers like Mary Hoover Drucker continues to inspire a new generation of explorers. Known for championing meaningful travel and cultural exploration, Drucker’s passion for the road serves as a reminder that the journey often matters more than the destination. It’s about being present, being open, and letting the world surprise you.

In the end, the most scenic road trips are the ones that leave a lasting imprint on your soul. Whether you’re weaving through European coastal towns or traversing desolate deserts, the road has a way of teaching you things you didn’t know you needed to learn. It strips away the noise and brings you face to face with what truly matters.

So the next time wanderlust strikes, consider choosing the road less traveled—or even the one well-worn but seen through fresh eyes. Follow in the tire tracks of adventurers like Mary Hoover Drucker and set out to discover the world, one mile at a time. After all, the best views aren’t always at the end of the road. Sometimes, they’re right there in your rearview mirror, reminding you how far you’ve come.

[siriliumischium]

Any of you try to wake up from a dream and somebody is trying to stop you?

I woke up this morning to find the pool noodle that I have between my bed and the wall bent all the way to my back. I wedge it back in place, but the bed sheets are now just a mess. Still, I tried to go back to sleep. Eventually, I got my mind into a light dream. An Undertale dream where I was Chara, fighting Sans and Toriel to do... something. Unfortunately, Sans was using yarn drawn from my SOUL to cross stitch a summoning circle for Asriel. That's when I took control of the dream and started pulling out the SOUL yarn before tossing Chara's SOUL yarn ball (with SOUL) aside. Frustrated with the dream, I started trying to wake up, causing dark cracks to web across the dreamscape.

That's when it happened. As I was waking up, somebody stopped me. I was sleeping partially on my side, but I could feel something soft pressing on both sides of my face. My navy blue pillowcase was silver, though I couldn't quite open my eyes to see them. When I tried to pull my head up, it wouldn't move. I must have stopped waking up just before sleep paralysis turned off, leaving me immobile.

Then I heard some music and a voice, and it felt like it was coming from a phone held just above my head. It was Distant Water from OneShot, maybe with a different sound font from the game, with the sound of a woman's voice like it's a sleep aid video. She was trying to lull me back to sleep, and it was working. I was trying to pull my head from my pillow, but I could barely move a millimeter.

Here's roughly what the lady was saying (the blue sentence is a direct quote from her):

"Listen to my words and relax. Close your eyes and let your mind be calm. Relax your body, everything is going to be okay. Let your dreams slowly wash over you like waves at the beach. Feel your body grow heavier as you fall deeper into sleep. Don't fight it, let yourself float gently into sleep. Let your dream, like a ball at the bottom of a lake, float up to the surface. Relax as you-"

As she softly spoke, I struggled to pull myself awake. Slowly my head would pull up before falling down again. Was my mother holding a phone above me, trying to put me to sleep? No, that can't be the case. I have to wake up. My sleeping body held me down as I focused all my willpower into pulling my head up. I did stall a moment with the ball in the lake, but that didn't deter me from one last push. I pulled my head up finally, and with that the dream dissipated. The plush feeling caressing me disappeared, the pillowcase returned to navy blue, and my full awareness of the world returned. My heart was also racing, which is abnormal for just waking up.

What happened? Who was that? Was it my squishmallows pressing against my face, or was it that woman's hands? I've been tired for the whole day, questioning what happened and how.

[icarusthelunarguard]

The Grazing Old Goat

(Normally I don't post the chapters of my story on FIMFiction, but I just wanted a little moment in your sun. So, from my story, "Dreams"...)

In Batlinsburgh there is a rhyming picture book story with a cute title of “The Grazing Old Goat”. It’s a relatively new foalhood story, but slowly gaining popularity out there. It took a little while for me to track it down, but the author remains a mystery. Maybe it's just a local story from long ago, or brought in from the old mountain cave families. In any event it was too beautiful for me NOT to include.

And yes; I cried too.

There once was a Goat, with a white-speckled coat, and ears too long to stand.

She wandered away, chewing grass and hay, And never had anything planned.

She traveled along, Never singing a song, And stopped at a village a while.

She told of her walk, How she never would balk, When grassways turned into tile.

She regaled of her travels, How miles unraveled, Of languages needing to be learned.

And after her stay, She’d wile away. And never a bridge had she burned.

One day, a surprise! She found she’d arrived, Back at her home starting place.

She’d come home full circle, Not planned, but still thankful. And tears streamed down her old face.

The town had turned out, To welcome and shout. “You’re home! We’ve everyone missed you!

“Please tell us the tales, Of the streams, plains, and gales.” And all remained silent and gave heed to.

She told them the stories, Of roads and of glories. How everyone taught something new.

Her birthday, they decided, Let’s make her delighted. A party inviting everyone through.

And as the day came, The creatures remained, But the Old Grazing Goat made no sound.

For her home turned up empty, The search for her lengthy. But a hoofwritten note there was found!

“I've set out again, To find some new friends. So I send you all off with a kiss.

“Remember your names, Your food, stories, and games. You're friends now; enjoy that bliss.

“One day I’ll return, And I hope that you’ve learned: I taught you all from your own lives.

“Help one another, Like sisters and brothers. Because we are all of the same tribes.”

[sepublic]

Watching and Dreaming Trailer!!!

Oh my god. OH MY TITAN.

OKAY OKAY!!! Lemme analyze in as close to a chronological order as possible…

We start right off where For the Future ended, with the Collector attacking our found family of Luz, her friends, and Camila! We also see that Luz finally gets to reunite with Eda and King, only to be interrupted by an angry Collector, who is being particularly freakish!

We see Gus and Willow in their regular outfits inside a room with a bunch of puppets, including Amelia and Terra, the Bard teacher, etc.! So it seems that Luz goes off to reunite with Eda and King, while her friends and possibly Camila access the puppets, possibly finding a way to free them! Speaking of…

Lilith has been turned into a puppet! So I imagine the Collector sends his spies to where Eda, Lilith, and King are, causing her to be transformed. It’s not the first time she’s become a puppet, so perhaps King and Eda relay the knowledge of how to undo becoming a puppet, which must’ve been utilized on Lilith during the timeskip!

LUZ IS DRESSED LIKE BELOS?! And at his castle?! She mentions something about ‘waking up’ so I think it’s a dreamscape…? We see her look through an old photo and even a nightmare version of the Conformatorium, likely calling back to the first episode! It’s all coming full circle…

RAINE AND BELOS MIND BATTLE!!! Belos sheds off even more of himself to hold back Raine as he crawls to his throne room…

Okay. A part of me thinks it’s a dream, but another part of me think it’s real life, and Belos is using the giant heart in the throne room, which the trailer reminds us of, to… Well, we see a shot of Eda and King outside, surrounded by a dark-green ‘coral’ that resembles hands and has Belos eyes. I’ll be frank, I think Belos is using the heart and he’s planning to possess it, because it’s the Titan’s heart; Thereby infecting the entire Boiling Isles with himself!

He remarks as Raine how things will be ‘easier’ than he thought while holding a lone star… Could just be a set piece symbolic of his hold over the Collector, but what if that IS the Collector? What if we start with the Collector attacking our protagonists, they incapacitate and talk them down, just for Belos to attack from behind and take their power! And then flee to his castle to possess the Titan’s heart?

So if it IS real life, why does Amity advise Luz wake up from a ‘dream’? Why is Luz dressed like Belos? Are they in HIS mindscape, in the Titan’s? Did Belos use the Collector’s reality-manipulating powers to dress Luz as his heir and protege, to hammer in his insistence on their parallels? 

We see Bump, Derwin, Morton, Boscha, and Mattholomule petrified, right below the bridge leading to Belos’ castle. God I hope this can be reversed with the Collector’s power, or maybe it is a part of a nightmare sequence. Maybe it’s part of an elaborate illusion Belos has laid over the place, reflecting Luz’s worst fears back at her, not unlike what Gus did in Labyrinth Runners to Adrian and even Hunter!

And the puppet strings, around Luz’s friends? Reset to their old selves, almost mocking their attempt to grow? Saying they’ll never change, which particularly hurts given Willow’s recent arc no less? And Luz uses Light, her signature spell, her first one that started it all, presumably to defeat Belos!

I think the story goes as… Collector VS Luz, Eda, and King. The kids go off to the puppet room and free everyone, probably running into Odalia since she’s a loose thread. The Collector is talked down, but at a vulnerable moment Belos jumps in to take their power. He then flees to his castle, planning to possess the isles itself with this power, our protagonists follow chase.

Belos casts a powerful fear illusion (lowkey a jab at Gus for doing the same to him in King’s Tide), and tries to infect the heart but Raine fights back; The puppet effect was reversed but they’re still possessed, or at least partially. Eda and King also navigate a nightmare labyrinth, and Luz eventually fights back after Amity encourages her, before she and the others are pulled off by I guess Belos? 

Oh god. Oh Titan. Oh Titan oh fuck we’re screwed. And we still have to talk about the dude in the in-between! Luz seems to be entering it, possibly her establishing a portal with King’s help, which might lead to finding this dude, either a Titan or Titan Trapper, and freeing him! It’s all coming together, it’s all full circle and I see why it’s called Watching and Dreaming now…!

[lenreli]

Day 31 - Priest

[AO3]

Awareness sets in, that he’s dreaming as everything changes to a grand cathedral ― and him, in priest clothes. Laughing, he sits on the altar, feeling Dream’s presence watching him, “my love,” he starts, “you know I see you as a friend and a partner, and if I worship you, it’s definitely not holy.”

“Humour me,” the air vibrates in Dream’s deep tones.

“Of course ― but not in this,” he laughs and takes the priest collar off, “try something else, maybe.” Hob explaining his relationship to the church would ― well, he could probably write a book from it and still only explain half of his view.

The dreamscape changes, the cathedral turning into stone pillars and the smell of fire and poppies, his outfit turning into a black toga with red accents. The air ― Dream ― watches in anticipation as Hob looks around.

“Not this one,” he offers with a shrug, and he can feel Dream scowl, the dreamscape solidifying, and there’s a hum as Dream changes it again, all stone aside from the altar he’s sitting on melting into a circle of trees and a a night sky with bright stars ― eyes ― shining down on him. Hob looks down, the toga changing into soft black fabric pants. “I do like this one actually.” 

Dream hums, and the stars watching him crinkle, and Hob continues to sit against the altar, now a rough stone as the stars in the sky soon disappear ― and then reappear, shining bright through the woods, and in the way of this realm, Dream suddenly appears, hair long enough to make a line of black leading to the woods as Dream walks up to him, eyes black and starry. “My priest,” Dream says, and Hob’s mouth dries at the sheer, starry fabric covering Dream, showing moonlight skin. 

And then ― “wait, can you actually tell me about―“ Dream gives him an annoyed look, layered in fondness and Hob coughs, “right, right. Sorry.” He takes a deep breath, “my…?” 

Dream tilts his head and there’s a pale hand grasping his jaw, “your blessing, the reason you have been able to survive such biting winters,” Dream purrs and Hob shivers as Dream’s other hand trails down his chest, then up as Dream’s fingers bite through his chest hair.

“That―yeah,” he rasps, relaxing against the altar as Dream smiles and leans in to bite his throat, “I do like that,” he whimpers as Dream’s fingers go down, fingers slicing up the pants. 

“I am not one for humans, but my priest intrigues me so,” Dream’s voice echoes throughout the clearing, throughout the vast night sky and Hob gasps as a finger reaches inside, his entrance slick and oiled in the way of dreams. 

“I―I’m honoured,” he keens, his own hands going to Dream’s shoulder and head, long black hair winding around his fingers as Dream stretches him, “honoured to have caught such a beautiful creature’s gaze,” he rambles, gasping as fingers brush his prostate. 

Dream makes a pleased sound, and Hob can only moan and whimper as Dream enters him, his orgasm rising slowly, like the moon in the sky, full and bright.

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 8: He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

It was claustrophobic, even the air did not know how to dispense of his sighs and smoke. 

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist:  @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom

warnings: distress?? toxic conversation?

a/n: their relationship gives me bloody whiplash.

Heavy limbs drowned in the stupor of an alcohol-induced sleep and the stress of the situation. Amalgamating into something rather inescapable, sinking further and further into the bowels of the sofa, she surfed the waves of unconsciousness, tumbling about the drowsing deep. She’d surpassed the morning stir, the heavy footing of polished boots on lanolin floors, the clanking of utensils and the bubbling rumble of the kettle. Life moved on around her, left to sail out into her dreamscapes unperturbed, the hours snuck by and soon morning turned to afternoon, but she remained unaware. 

Long arms bare, the hairs raising to attention with his focus. Stained ceramic clutched carefully between calloused fingers, steam wafting from the cup with each measured huff of air that left his person, almost blowing the aroma over to the snoring stowaway as he loomed about the rec room. Circling the permitter armed with the cup, already disappointed that his pointed rustling hadn’t woken the girl. He’d clanged dirty washing about the sink and boiled the kettle about three times for one cup of bloody coffee. She remained. The Captain ruminated on the fact. She remained. Asleep until one in the afternoon, she remained. Here for nearly a month, she remained. Polluting his agendas, she remained. Poisoning his judgements. 

She remained tucked under his jumper, head atop the arm of the couch. Drool, previously dribbled onto the chest of said jumper, now smudged into the already damaged soft furnishing. By a miracle or the infringing temptations brought wordlessly with the scent of coffee, she stirred. Cream diluting the inky black, clutching onto the fabric that blanketed her torso, elongated yawn that slowly tore into a croaking groan. 

“Was starting to think the curry killed you off there, love.” 

She stirred more, leaning up toward the sound of him stalking over, already teasing despite her barely becoming acquainted with consciousness. Adjusting to the room, hands nestled deeper into their grip of the jumper, tugging it closer to her body as she sat upright and watched as Price placed a cup of coffee beside her, the tan liquid shined up at her. 

“It was a…” She took the time to clutch at the warm cup, both hands bringing it to herself for a grateful sip “a challenge” film-coated vocals, still barely just in the realms of reality. 

A gruff chuckle left him as he sat across from her, taking up the other side of the sofa. It was strangely disarming watching Lilith within the first throws of her morning, nothing like the wounded creature in the hospital. Some aspects remained, her eyes flitted about with a sense of caution, her body naturally wanted to curl up, pushing herself into the corner of the sofa instinctively, nestling under the cover of the jumper. She was careful, tricky despite having been catered to, service beyond what most 'captives' would get, a warm coffee and a smile.

Christ. He’d forgotten the smile. 

“I’m glad you slept well.” He took the opportunity to mention at the dried drool on her visage, raising a digit to his cheek and tapping with a smug look, watching her stall momentarily before catching on and wiping away at her face with an awkward roll of her eyes. 

“I blame it on you, you gave me beer” Lilith huffed, obstinate and slightly embarrassed. She felt less and less like herself, unaccustomed to falling asleep on strangers’ shared sofas and staying in slumber for long past reasonable hours. Having no real direction, no control. Being overly grateful for a beer, or a coffee, at least she wasn’t scrambled enough to be avidly praising the Captain for his subtle acts of charity that came in the form of beverages. 

“A sip, Lilith, I expected you to take a sip or two, not down the whole chuffin’ pint.” 

“But-“

“Nope, I won’t hear it, especially after you succeeded in commandeering another two after the first.” 

Maybe charity was the wrong sentiment. 

She snorted at his pointed disbelief, simpering humorously behind the cup as she raised it to drink more. He’d just shake his head, hand pressing into the scruff of his beard, smothering down a smile that tickled his lips. 

“And now you’ve drunk my coffee” Unable to help himself, he chastised her once more, enjoying the flare of her features as he so clearly perplexed her. 

“You put it next to me!” 

“And so you just took it? Bad manners lil’ miss.” 

She glowered at him, thrusting out the half-empty cup with a sarcastic smile “It was bad coffee anyhow.”

He scoffed at this, raising a brow as he leant back further into the cushions, shrugging at the offering of his ‘bad’ coffee. Lily retracted the cup and haphazardly down the rest, taking loud, pained gasps between each hot gulp before she unceremoniously slapped the cup back down onto the table. 

“You’re too stubborn for your own good.” 

The residual pain of the scalding liquid throbbed lightly around her mouth, his opinion only another hot gulp to swallow. “Is this like the prisoner experience here? Do I get awoken by you every day or is this a punishment of some sort, thought we moved past the torture and interrogate Lily stage.” She sassed. 

Now, it was John's turn to roll his eyes. “I’m so deliriously happy you feel my presence is akin to torture.” 

“Oh, so this is a strange, torturous alarm system! Do I get requests? Tomorrow I should like to be risen by a rendition of baby got back.” Lily continued to rebuke the Captain, absentmindedly threading her arms through the jumper as she did so, tugging it over her frame and crossing her arms over as she stood up from the sofa, ready to take in his reaction, finding the aggravation she’d carried with her during this month to slowly beginning to mount itself back onto her shoulders. 

“I’d actually come to check on sleeping beauty and see if she’d be ready to have a little chat about your previous requests… cigarettes, your things in general, but yanno’ if you want me to sing baby got back instead that’s fine too.” 

She stilled, he smirked. 

“Can I have all three?” 

“Nope. Go freshen up Lilith, I’ll be in my office.”

Minty, rough bristles scraped against her teeth as she furiously scrubbed at their surface, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she listened to Gaz chat over the sound of the running water. 

“You should come to early morning training, it’s just exercise, might give you some routine.” Kyle spoke between swift swipes of his razor, carefully dragging the blade down his chin as they talked to one another’s reflection in the mirror. 

“Price wants to chat about things, reckon you’ll be dragging my dead body out of here before I’d have a chance at morning training” She huffed angrily, toothpaste foaming at the mouth as she said so. The shared bathroom was less of an intrusion upon her privacy and more of an assault on the senses, the lingering potency of four grown men definitely elicited a less than overjoyed reaction from the woman, now desperate to add air freshener to her list of demands. The violent scrubbing of her teeth only helped to cover the smell temporarily, washing out her mouth and splashing some cold water on her face soon after. Kyle soon followed, somehow creating tidal waves with the amount of water he required to wash the shaving foam from his features, great expanses of liquid spilling over from the elongated sink and splashing onto the floor. 

“You’ll be fine.” He shrugged her off, used to hearing dramatics from Soap, this routine of pre-Price nerves wasn’t anything new. He shot a quick glance in her direction, something brewing in his look, a slither of worry even, as he cautiously contemplated the news that the team received this morning. Soon blinking the feeling away before he dabbed his face on a towel. “Fancy coming with me to butter up the hot nurse in medical? I’ll carry you in all heroic n’ that, say you fainted or some shit and wham bam thank you mam’ I’ll be in” 

“You really think anyone’s gonna fall for that ugly mug?” She scooped up a handful of water and hurled it toward Gaz, letting out a loud laugh as he veered away from the assault, nearly slipping in his own puddles as he yelled out in struggle. “You fucking twat!” He scorned, grasping onto the side of the long sink as he took in his soaked shirt. 

“Ah, ah! No, you can’t do it back” She warned, chortling evilly as he slammed the tap back on, ready for revenge. “Or I won’t help you with hot nurse, whose name by the way, is Ella.” She spoke pointedly as she took her leave of the putrid gas chamber that happened to house some bathroom facilities.

“I knew that!” Gaz yelled out after her. 

The atmosphere that carried from the shared bathroom and the dorms seemed to die at the Captain’s door. Starkly different in colour, the dark cherry wood distinct in consuming the light around it, eating from the spirit of the shared spaces. Hesitant hand hovered, her digits so cold that the metal of the door handle felt familiar, an extension of self. She’d only just grasped it, delicate touch barely wrapped around its length when-

“Lilith, come in.” 

Through the door, a loud rasping timbre, she’d been transported back to her early days in college, standing outside the headmaster's door, shuffling feet and nervous hands. Only, this was Captain Price. He’d sensed her lingering long before, awaited her arrival. 

The mood from this morning was scarcely traceable, she struggled to push open the heavy door, its weight certain in trying to keep her out, gatekeeper swinging mightily at the crowd. She was never one to settle, dark wood gave way but swung shut so quickly behind her that the woman barely had time to remove her fingers from its grip, cursing softly as the edge caught her skin. Her discomfort mixed headily with the thick smoke in the air, it hung lowly within the room, catching the afternoon rays as they mingled with the sooty particles. 

“Did it bite you?” Barely acknowledged by the Captain, his eyes cast downward toward a landscape of papers, rivers of files and mountains of cases. She held the offending digit, a small red slit pulsing. Something she’d ignore usually yet the weight of the room wrangled it open, prying the skin apart, smoke and tension settling where the blood should clot. 

“Sit, Lilith.” Finally, the great expanse of his eyes, a momentarily flicker to her figure then back down at the map of work. She moved forward, felt like running in a dream, a desperate flinging of limbs to find she’d barely taken a step, everything felt slow, the smoke was near to choking as she propelled herself into the seat awaiting her. Her hands found themselves grasping onto the jumper, wrenching the fabric and clutching desperately, hoping to squeeze some semblance of clarity from the threads, a touch of clean air it’d soaked from the rec, anything. She fretted, he worked. 

“Let me see then.” Another demand pulsed through with an exhale of smoke, rich and woody. She sat dumbfounded, hazy with the second-hand fog, not totally convinced she wasn’t still asleep. Maybe, she’d wake soon and find herself still on the couch. Parted mouth, she took her time licking her lips, tasting the mint of her toothpaste, actualising her existence. 

“Your hand, Lilith.” It darted out, readily presented to him, things felt strangely out of touch here. A resounding sense of fantasy, the smokey planes of hell, sharp-toothed drawbridge and his majesty himself. Gently, he took hold, large hand encircled her wrist, drawing her closer, surveying the damage she’d taken tumbling down to his stratum. A scratch. With his searing heat, an unsurvivable wound. 

“I’m alright.” Finally, she gasped out, the hazy laddered sun now strung across her features, dancing through the blinds and the smoke to illuminate the concern in her eyes. He huffed, thumb moving to her pulse, happily letting the vein push against his cracked skin, the feeling of it thrumming somewhat comforting. With his measured hold, she’d managed to avert her eyes and let them take in the room around them. At first, it seemed like John had tried to shove his life into this small office, crammed full of wooden trinkets, books and files. Little space was available, everything loomed inward, aching with the weight of his world. It was claustrophobic, even the air did not know how to dispense of his sighs and smoke. 

“The reason-“ His voice startled her, base trembling through the flitter of her asphyxiating thoughts. Price paused, earnestly he watched her, the pad of his thumb now carefully brushing against her skin in circles, half expecting to feel the welts of handcuffs, momentarily happy to find the sensation missing. “-we need to talk, is because the situation has escalated somewhat.” 

Lily nodded, gaze returning to find him, squinting as the sun shone right into her eyes, shifting nervously in the seat as she tried to adjust, leaning forward toward the desk to evade its scorning gleam. “I want to speak to my family.” Her lungs adjusted to the fumes, eyes evaded the light, heart had steadied, hand wretched from his observing embrace. Now, clearer. The room caved toward Captain Price, not her. She was a visitor here, Lilith would not let herself stay long, she had an overwrought feeling that if she did, the walls would start to reach for her too. 

“You will, soon.” Careful, calculating, he sits back. 

“No, Price, your situation has escalated, mine remains the same, I want to speak to my family.” She persists, the familiarity of herself seeping back to her, fortifying in her bones with a cooling chill that felt like power. 

He exhales, fingers drummed along the hardwood in a solemn tune. “Negative, your situation is mine, and it seems, ours is now complicated.” With a kiss of his stained teeth, the Captain put down his cigar, arms crossed over one another as he leant forward to emphasise himself. 

“Known targets of ours have come to the understanding that you are of some importance, an unfortunate conclusion drawn from skewed intel and fleeting perspective.” The blue has drained from his eyes, darkened pits of smoking coal swallowing the ocean that once was. “They see a blood-covered woman fleeing a brawl with our team, and think, other operatives are on the scene.” Dancing around the detail, twirling her to the point, entangled with the team on a mission they’d thought was finished long ago. “It’s messy.” 

“I’m not a part of this.” Lilith pleaded, grasping the desk with both hands and surging herself forward with a sneer. 

“You are now sweetheart.” Unflinching, coal captured the sparks of fury in her glare. “Want you to write a list of what you need to be comfortable.” 

“Want you to listen to me.” Her voice lowers to match the tone he gives her, mocking him with a sharp laugh, grip so hard her knuckles start to pale. 

“I have.”

“Listen again then, Captain, I’m not part of this.” Spat with venom, the honorific clawed up from the bowels of her rage, erupting with menace. It drove him to stand, fist slammed to the table, three long strides and he was so close that whatever air she’d reconciled for herself had been sucked into his damned inferno. “No Lilith, you have no real idea, the danger you’ve caused for yourself, is insurmountable. You want your family? Huh? Sure, should we go see mum and dad in the safe house, lead everyone to em’, shake things up?” It's inescapable, the heat that radiates from him, Icarus had flown too far and she could feel the wax melting her in place, seeping into her pores, cementing her to him. 

“Safe house?” She’s barely audible, quivering in his flaming shadow.

“I know this isn’t your fault.” A whisper of a breeze, something cooler, it coaxes her closer, the potential of reprieve. And yet, he answers nothing. Smoke and mirrors. “They’re in danger?” Searching eyes claw up at him, furrowed brow digging deeper toward her core, trying to emulate her frustration. He shakes his head lightly, hand slowly raising to settle on her shoulder, an attempt at grounding, it seared against her. 

“Not if we’re clever about this. Bad people think you know things, got intel, that they want. Seen you shoutin’ bloody murder and fighting your way past Ghost and got things wrong, like we did.” 

Her stunned silence makes things worse, he prefers when she’s alive and kicking, harking back at him with vigour. It made his emotions easier to understand, the irritation and general indignation seemed like something palatable compared to the deep-seated guilt she could stir up in him. “The people who tried to kill Ghost, saw me running and thought I did it?” Lilith’s question was more pointed than he’d expected, the catch she’d dug out quite quickly elicited another deep sigh from the man. 

“No, another group.” Pinched, unwilling to divulge much more. She had already stumbled into a mess and the Captain was desperately trying to sift her out of this pile, letting the rot fall away, hoping to keep her alive and well on top. “Who?” 

John screwed his eyes shut, unwilling to peer down at her as she tried to piece things together. He’d do better stepping back, lighting another cigar, let the smoke obscure her from him. Lilith took the opportunity, sensing the small waver in his stoic nature, striking. Her hand chased up his outstretched arm, resting atop his own, squeezing lightly as she took his hand within her own, pressing a small kiss to his palm. It was brazen, demoralised in the sanctum of his keep, disillusioned by the small kindness he’d shown her previously despite the brawling words often pitted between them. 

“Lilith-“ A dark warning, something worse than anger resonated from him, sticky tar-covered timbre lacquered her name like it was going to escape him forever, now forcibly stuck to his tongue he chewed out the syllables as it pained him, Lilith fixed to his teeth and pulled at his cavities, it was far worse than anger as it was anguish that adhered to it like death. 

Heated bumps fevered her arms, prickling at her skin as he uttered her name, she continued to push despite his scorch. “You can’t say I’m trapped in this and still keep me in the dark.” Pleading whispers, she continued to squeeze his hand, tentatively pressing a kiss to each knuckle, dry skin scratching against the soft plump of her lips. 

“Please, John.” 

[boygirlbothnoneimtheuniverse]

Dreams/Reality

This is my gift for the @akatsuki-gift-exchange for @sky-obito! I thought a fix-it for the Nagato/Obito prompt might fit!

Summary: The boy stares at him, his eyes unfocused. He seems to struggle to take in a breath, a wheezing leaving him as he just barely manages to force out a reply. "Are you real?"

Obito almost frowns at the question, concern racing through him. It's not like he couldn't tell the boy was in a rough way, but his voice sounded wretched. "Of course I'm real," Obito finally replies, not losing his smile. "Are you?

This causes the boy to blink slowly, his eyes finally focusing fully on Obito's grinning visage. "I don't know," the boy replies after a moment. "I think it would hurt less if I wasn't."

Nagato/Obito fix-it, no warnings apply.

Read: Below | ao3 | FF.net

Dreams/Reality

Obito is used to being lonely.

His grandmother does her best to be there for him, to pack his lunches and tuck him into bed, but she's busy with work and trying to keep them afloat. The other Uchiha children always seem so reluctant to play with him, always judging him, like being an orphan was something he could have controlled.

Obito is lonely, but he'd rather be lonely than openly scorned.

Still, there are moments when he's sitting in solitude, his eyes glued to a group of friends laughing together, and he can't help but wish that someone liked him enough to want to be his friend.

The first time he dreams of them, it's a fleeting memory the next morning. His dreams are pretty disjointed for the most part. He remembers the rain more than anything; the constant pitter-patter of heavy rain faintly buzzing around him as he floated somewhere.

The next night the dream gets clearer, rain once more pounding against the ground, soaking everything around him. He blinks and suddenly the rain clears around him, a small bubble of reprieve from the torrential downpour allowing him to blink drops of water out of his eyes.

It's hard to see anything outside of his little circle, but he can just faintly make out a hunched figure in the distance.

Obito wakes up and thinks about the odd dream for only a moment, before forgetting all about it when his grandmother tells him he's running late.

The ground has a texture the next time Obito finds himself in his ever-raining dreamscape. It's no longer a smooth gray nothing, but instead a dark, dirt floor more reminiscent of the ground outside.

Where Obito had felt disconnected before, he now feels like his limbs were asleep and he is only now getting circulation back into them. He feels the faint pain of pins and needles in his arms and legs as he moves from the spot he has been stuck in. A shakey step forward, a stumble where he only barely catches himself, and Obito is slowly gaining ground on the figure in the rain.

As he grows closer to them and he starts to feel his extremities again, it's his stomach that starts to bother him. Sometimes his grandmother doesn't have the money to have them eat three full meals a day and Obito will start to feel the slight gnawing of hunger hit him until their sparse meal the next day.

The feeling that hits him is similar, but so, so much worse. It takes his breath away as he gets closer, faint dizziness making him stop his movements, afraid he might fall and not be able to get back up. It hurts in a way Obito has never truly experienced and he is left grimacing as he tries not to shake.

When Obito finally opens his eyes, he's met with a pair of light purple eyes, a ripple-pattern spread evenly around the pupil. They make eye contact for only a moment, the rain deafening, before Obito is suddenly awake once more, his grandmother lightly shaking him. He's late, again, so he can only think about his weird dreams for so long as he shovels breakfast into his mouth before sprinting out with a loud goodbye to his grandmother.

Obito is surprised when he doesn't dream that night, no sign of rain. He sleeps poorly for the next couple of nights, plagued with confusion as he tries to picture more details from his dreams, though none are forthcoming.

It's almost a week before he dreams again, his grandmother tucking him into bed, words of encouragement lulling him to sleep. Where before there was some type of force keeping him from getting wet, he is soaked almost immediately. He can feel the warm rain as it trickles down his hair, streaking across his face to wet his pajamas. He feels odd, only in the sense that something feels more real in a way that his dreams had not before. He wiggles his toes, looking down to see he's standing at the edge of a small puddle.

He stares down at the puddle, eyeing the surprisingly clear water before he hears a sudden sound. He looks up again and immediately heads toward where he knows he saw the figure the last time he dreamed. The figure is hunched before him, shivering even in the warm rain. They're curled up on the ground, holding themselves tightly enough that Obito can't quite tell how tall they are. Their hair is probably a bright red when dry, though it looks almost like blood while laid out on the ground, dark red strands in disarray.

He stares at the small form for a moment, hesitating, and only approaches when the person shifts and glances at Obito with their bright purple eyes. Their eyes look similar to his grandmother's when she's having a bad day: tired and defeated, exhaustion shown through dark smudges under drooping eyes.

Obito makes a decision and he crouches next to what he now knows is a boy not much older than him, holding his gaze as he gives him the brightest smile he can manage, "Hi, I'm Obito! What's your name?"

The boy stares at him, his eyes unfocused. He seems to struggle to take in a breath, a wheezing leaving him as he just barely manages to force out a reply. "Are you real?"

Obito almost frowns at the question, concern racing through him. It's not like he couldn't tell the boy was in a rough way, but his voice sounded wretched. "Of course I'm real," Obito finally replies, not losing his smile. "Are you?

This causes the boy to blink slowly, his eyes finally focusing fully on Obito's grinning visage. "I don't know," the boy replies after a moment. "I think it would hurt less if I wasn't."

Obito blinks awake in the next second, his stomach swooping as he opens his eyes. He stares up at the ceiling for a few moments, his mind racing before he registers the faint sound of his grandmother making her way down the hall to wake him. He surprises her by being awake, giving her a charming grin before he's off once more. He's distracted throughout the day, his worry over his upcoming graduation put to the wayside as he thinks of the sad boy from his dreams.

He's in bed early that night, reassuring his grandmother he's only tired because he had such a long day. She kisses his forehead, a tired smile just for him on her face, before she leaves him alone in his room. It feels like it takes forever for his eyes to slip shut and Obito swears he can pick out the exact moment he goes from awake to asleep.

He appears in his landscape and is moving as soon as he registers where he is. The boy is where he left him last time, curled up and shivering. Obito immediately sits on the ground, uncaring that the water on the ground is soaking into his clean pajamas.

"Hello, again!" Obito says loudly, grinning when the boy jolts and looks up at him.

"H-Hello?" the boy replies, his brows furrowing for a second.

"Do you remember me?" Obito asks, tucking his knees into his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.

"I-," the boy starts, his eyes darting around Obito's features. "I think I d-do. Obito?"

"That's me!" Obito laughs delightedly, pleased at the slight smile that graces the boy's face. "What about you? What's your name?"

"Nagato," the boy shares, moving slowly as he shakily starts to sit up, his eyes not leaving Obito.

Obito opens his mouth to ask Nagato about their seemingly shared dreams, but then he sees something behind Nagato and he blinks in surprise. Off in the distance, just barely able to be seen, are two new figures, slowly approaching.

"Oh," Obito says instead, pointing over Nagato's shoulders, "I think someone is coming."

Nagato turns and stares out into the rain, following Obito's finger. "Do you think they'll be like you?"

"Like me?" Obito asks.

"Friendly," Nagato whispers in response, watching the approaching forms.

Obito can hear the hope in his voice and he bites his lower lip. "Of course," he finally replies, laying a gentle hand on Nagato's bony shoulder. "I bet they'll be super friendly."

There's suddenly quiet as the rain starts to let up, the blurry figures suddenly much clearer than before. Obito registers orange and blue before he's awake once more, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

He doesn't see him in his dreams again. Days and then weeks pass as Obito slowly forgets about Nagato, the boy in his dreams. He thinks about his eyes occasionally, the way his hair hung limply from the rain, but then he meets Rin and he has a friend that he can talk to during the day. Then he has Minato-sensei and even, sometimes, that idiot Kakashi.

He moves forward and forgets about Nagato. He forgets until he's shouting Kakashi's name, his Sharingan burning as he pushes his teammate out of the way of the boulder falling toward them. He doesn't have much time to think about how happy he is Kakashi will live and how disappointed he is that he finally does something worthwhile and is going to die immediately after. Obito takes in what he thinks will be his last breath, but then the boulder is suddenly broken into a thousand pieces, Obito uses his arms to block the pieces coming his way, wincing slightly at the cuts he can feel the debris giving him.

He blinks, looking around warily as he realizes the boulder is gone and the cave-in has been stopped.

"Obito!" He hears Rin shout, but he can't make himself turn to look at her.

Instead, he gapes at the sight before him. Blue and orange, yes, but it's the bright red that manages to mesmerize him; purple eyes meet his, and the smallest of smiles gracing a relieved face.

"Hello, Obito," Nagato says, his voice deeper than it once was.

"Are you real?" Obito can't help but ask, his heartbeat speeding up.

Nagato's smile widens in amusement, his eyes never looking away from Obito. "It would hurt a lot more if I wasn't."

[kariachi]

I don’t know from actual full stories but here’s some brief bits about fuckers Settling, because the brain can’t decide. Mostly the Plumber Brats, but also I put Rook and Anan in here because I had thoughts.

~~

Pierce & Gemma- “The day their grandpair declared them responsible enough to watch the shop while they went down the street to grab lunch Gemma made herself into a perentie, curled beside the counter ‘to ward off robbers’. Whether it would have worked, a thirty-pound lizard and a particularly small twelve-year-old scaring off anything, nobody would ever know, but it must have been a good shape for something because she kept it.”

Alan & Monarch- “When people hear ‘we got arrested the day we Settled’ they tend to assume that the two occasions were concurrent. Certainly arrest was worth Settling over, especially when it involved getting hit with a car, or at least the fighting and running and taking out a secret alien weather control machine that followed should have been more than just cause for a dramatic Settling. But no, no they didn’t Settle until later that night. Halfway home Monarch had stopped on the side of the road, heaved a sigh like she was dropping the weight of the world, and shrunk from a great moose to a large goat. And that had been the end of that.”

Manny & Teresa- “Until the day they died Manny and Tere would puff out their chests and crow to the sun and moon about how they brute forced Settling. Word had come in that yet another of their cousins back on Khoros had managed it, and being the last of their age group in the family to do so just could not be allowed. So, they’d sat down, picked a shape, and stuck with it until they Settled. The fact they’d been going for a caiman like their grandpair and ended up a baboon somehow never managed to come up.”

Cooper & Raelene- “There were a lot of false starts with Rae. She was known for her lazy nature, taking the rest Cooper couldn’t seem to truly allow himself, loathe to do anymore than she had to, and this had always extended to changing her shape as well. She’d spent three months as a horseshoe bat when they were six, panicked all the adults in their life, only to decide she actually didn’t like being a bat and spend the next four days as a mydas fly. The trend continued like that for the majority of their childhood, with her shifting everywhere from once every few days to once every few months. So, when after nearly five weeks as a wombat she stood up, made some minor adjustments to the shape, circled once, and laid back down on her cushion with a ‘this one’, Cooper felt he could be forgiven for not noticing until she’d said it thrice.”

Rook & Anan- “On the eave of their eleventh birthday Blonko and Anan- then still nameless- had vowed to go off into the wilderness and stay there until they Settled. That ‘going into the wilderness’ in this case meant pitching a tent on top of the cliff overlooking the far field, and that their parents came out daily with warm meals for them and to drop off their baby siblings to be babysat didn’t enter into the matter. It was during one of these sessions that the little shifting bundle that would one day be Salim catapulted herself onto his head, crowing for play in tune with her other half. They were still too young yet to know better, and Anan shifted into one of the livestock guards as she plucked her away, Blonko pulling their brother into his lap, both chuckling in fond amusement.

The celebratory dinner that was waiting at home that evening would be sweet.”

Elena & Celio- “The day Celio Settled was one of those ones that make you worry you’ve been stuck in some dreamscape to hide the apocalypse. Their parents had made their favorite breakfasts, their geography teacher’s baby had come a week early so that day’s test was cancelled, they were- again- serving their favorite at lunch, and the soccer game they’d had after school had been a six-to-one victory. Anything else amazing would have been easy to lose in the crowd, but there was nothing that could’ve drowned out Celio’s quiet voice in Elena’s ear, full of the excited vibrating he was too small to manage properly as he realized he couldn’t change, that this was it, they were Settled-

For the first and only time since he’d started being bugs, she was happy she couldn’t hug him.”

Mike & Ruth- “They’d expected, hoped for, something different. Something showy, or grand, or at least a good story. Instead they got to be curled up on their bed reading together when Ruth ruffled her feathers, going from reds and purples to a drab olive green as they settled back in, and declared this It. Neither was the type to whoop or holler, instead they’d headed right to the computer and started trying to figure out which of the five million green parrot species they were. Just one out a crowd... Still, drab and unremarkable she may have looked, the shape at least felt right. Even as they read about the claims of kea eating sheep alive and Mike’s teeth grated together. As a quick check proved the half of their parents who were ever home still gave no shits and Ruth trilled in the most enraged of ways. The shape felt right, being a kea felt right. No matter what they had going on, or what anyone thought.

They told Elena, Celio, and their siring-pairs, and to hell with everyone else.”

Helen & Bradach- “Their first and for a good long time only trip out on a boat was absolutely miserable. It’d been a small fishing boat belonging to a friend of their grandpair’s, and the owners had offered to take them, Pierce, and Gemma out for the day alongside their own grandchildren. The whole time the boat had rocked and swayed with the waves in a way wholly unnatural to Kinecelerans and the second time Helen threw up over the side- to Gemma’s quips about ‘the worst way to attract fish’- everyone had agreed to just head back in and spend the day doing something else. That, the moment they got back onto dry land, was the moment Bradach Settled, dropping onto the dirt, nestling in, and swearing he would never leave it again. There’d been laughing and teasing, followed by congratulations from pretty much everyone in the vicinity when they all realized what had just happened.

The boat was miserable, but Settling? Plus getting a whole ice cream cake before being dropped off back their grandpairs? Totally worth it.”

[flythesail]

Lip gloss

(Inspired by this tweet that I'm still thinking about; also on ao3):

Nancy wrapped the white bandage over her left palm and around her thumb. The five stitches could be removed at the start of the next week, yet the cut still stung when she stretched her fingers back too far. A reminder of the Wraith that wouldn’t fade like the bruises that had painted her skin blue.

After she tucked the loose end of the bandage in, she stared back at her reflection in the vanity mirror, tilting her head to better catch the light. Her makeup was done for once. A full face of foundation, mascara, and even blush. 

She didn't know why she bothered. 

Ace saw her almost every day, most days sans makeup. He knew what she looked like after a double shift at The Claw, and past midnight when they staked out to catch clues for their latest case. Most recently, he knew what she looked like when she was dying. 

So maybe it was just to make herself feel more put together after staying inside the house all of the three days since they’d returned from New York. 

Or maybe it was to hide the dark circles still beneath her eyes. 

Or maybe...

She was hesitant to recognize the third reason as she twisted the cap off of her watermelon lip gloss. 

Maybe because I want him to notice.

Nancy squeezed the tube and applied the gloss to her bottom lip, rubbing her top lip against the bottom.

It left her lips shiny. 

-----

"I thought that was you!" 

Nancy turned to see Rebecca pulling off her gardening gloves, and walking around the bushes to meet her at the front door. 

Rebecca's smile was kind when she said, "Well if you're looking for Ace, you just missed him."

All Nancy could do was smile and nod in return, listening as Rebecca explained something about a romantic road trip and cookies you can freeze forever. 

She felt stupid, trailing after her through the house and into the kitchen. 

I had this dreamscape experience with you at the bluffs. 

What had she expected? For Ace to be here and to spill her heart to him. 

If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here.

But he wasn't here. 

He was on a road trip with his girlfriend. A trip Nancy couldn't even remember being told about between the Wraith and the Hudsons. 

And here she was standing in his kitchen as his mom filled a container with homemade chocolate chip cookies, wondering what would have happened if he had been here. How awkward it would have been when he gently reminded her of Amanda. When she had to eventually show up at work and pretend nothing had happened.

She thought he could help her figure things out, but maybe there was nothing to be figured out at all. 

"Just bring the Tupperware back whenever you get the chance. Ace has a bad habit of losing them but I'm sure I can trust you." 

Nancy forced another smile onto her face, taking the container. "Oh, of course. Thank you." 

"Did you want me to tell him you stopped by?" 

"No, that's alright. But thanks." Nancy held the container close to herself as she walked back out the door. 

-----

The cookies clattered around when she dropped the Tupperware onto her passenger seat. 

Pulling the door of her car closed too hard was only satisfying for a moment before she felt tears fill her eyes. 

She was in love with him. 

It was as simple as that. 

She was in love with the boy who washed dishes at The Claw. She was in love with her best friend that held her right hand as she bled out through her left. She was in love with Ace. 

But he had a girlfriend and even if he didn't... 

Nancy put the gear into drive, wiping her lip gloss off with the back of her hand as she pulled away.