#and other than that i only have one (1) non-original **** post sitting in a chat log

[izzyspussy]

Please show the **** posts as a new years gift to us

i will NOT you must solve the riddle first

[codenamed-queenie]

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched. 

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire. 

So. Quarantine it is. 

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick - 

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days. 

Then he started to get twitchy. 

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.” 

“Dick, no.”  

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t. 

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass. 

Desperate for news of the outside. 

He thrives off of it like a starving man. 

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after. 

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason - 

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist. 

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking. 

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results. 

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it. 

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up. 

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done. 

Barbara - 

Self-quarantined with her dad. 

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive. 

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs. 

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together. 

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles. 

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony. 

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window. 

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background. 

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute. 

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen. 

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’ 

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe. 

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned. 

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim. 

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being. 

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out. 

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it. 

Cass - 

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate. 

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed. 

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far. 

But no one knows for sure. 

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel. 

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later. 

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic. 

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day. 

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’  mostly. 

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost. 

Steph - 

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first. 

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down. 

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable. 

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving. 

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks. 

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s. 

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic. 

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place. 

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian - 

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house. 

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine. 

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds. 

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion. 

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time. 

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are. 

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time. 

Only that he is Out There. 

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had. 

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies. 

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat. 

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts. 

Duke - 

Did not leave the attic for two weeks. 

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement. 

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement. 

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement. 

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa. 

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally. 

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others. 

Duke has seen these people under pressure. 

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with. 

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

[krreader]

seven sins | chapter six.

pairing: bts x reader ; kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; historical!au ; princes!bts ; concubine!reader ; mentions of sex genre: fluff ; angst word count: 2.3k+ previous: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5

summary: even in times such as yours, you still led a privileged life with nothing to ask for. that is until first your father, then your mother died and you were left to care for your two younger sisters. the position for royal physician seemed to be open and with your father having been a general and your mother having been a maid for the queen, you thought you might be able to get it.. little did you know that your visit to the palace would put a completely different offer on the table.

a/n: WE’RE BACK TO POSTING REGULARLY BITCHACHOS! ♥ and this deserves a fucking update, still one of my fav originals to date

“Stop it, this isn't funny!”

You smiled from ear to ear when you could hear your sisters bickering with each other, walking up the familiar stairs to your home that you haven’t walked in weeks now, before carefully sliding open the doors.

Your youngest sister was annoying the older one with a stick, acting as if it was a sword, while the older one just wanted to be left alone.

Funny how so many things had changed... yet others stayed exactly the same.

“You should treat your older sister with a little more respect, you know?”

“(Y/N)!” both of them ran into your arms the moment you had finished your sentence, you hugging them as hard as you could, breathing in their scent that you missed so much, "You’re finally back!”

“I'm sorry I wasn't able to come sooner,” you kissed both of their heads, then showed them the bag that you were holding with a grin, “But I brought you a lot of treats!”

Were you allowed to take them? Probably not. But the kitchen staff always prepared too much for you concubines anyways. It’d be a shame to throw it all away when you had two wonderful sisters sitting at home who’d devour such things.

And indeed, the fact that you were gone for a while seemed to have been forgotten while they stuffed their faces.

For a moment you were afraid that maybe they haven't had enough to eat, but they looked healthy.

“Hey! Why are you eating so much, you make it seem like I haven't fed you at all!” Jun entered with crossed arms, “I've been cooking every day for you brats!”

“Sorry, Auntie Jun, but it's really good,” the youngest said.

She scoffed, but then quickly pulled you into her arms to greet you properly. After all, you also hadn’t seen her in a while.

“I got you something as well,” you whispered, pulling out a bag full of coins and sliding it into the pockets of her dress.

“No, no, no, I don't want this.”

“They give this to us every once in a while to buy new clothes, but I don't need that. You've been clearly taking care of them, Jun, I want you to have this. If not for you, then for your parents.”

She didn't like to take, she usually only gave, but.. she sighed in defeat when she knew she had to take it this time. Like you said, if not for her sake, then for that of her family.

“Thank you,” she squeezed you in her arms once more, then looked at the children to make sure they were still busy with the treats, before pulling you further away from them to have a private conversation.

What she was about to talk to you about shouldn't be heard by them.

“How are you? How are.. things?”

“I'm alright. They haven't found out why I'm there yet, but I think the queen is getting suspicious.”

“Because you're not pregnant, yet? The herbs work?”

“As well as I thought they would, yes. I've slept with four princes so far, so I should be pregnant by now. The good news, though, I heard that because Prince Seokjin is the heir to the throne, he is the one who needs to get a child as soon as possible. So the king ordered that nobody but him is allowed to get me with child and.. he hasn't been one of the four yet.”

“So as long as you stay away from him..-”

“Yes. At least it gives me an excuse. Not a good one, the queen knows men too well, but it's better than nothing.”

“Why haven't you talked to the king yet? You've been up there for a while, haven't you had the chance yet?”

“He's very reserved. Just like I had expected. My father used to tell me that he only saw him so much because he was pretty much the only person he ever trusted. I need a chance to speak with him when he’s alone.”

“Why can't you just tell anyone else? What about one of the princes? Maybe they could help you?”

“I don't know them well enough, Jun. Yes, some of them seem to like me a lot, but I can't take that risk. If I'm wrong, they might give the order to kill me. But with the king, I at least still have the card of my father to play. He will listen to me when he finds out who I really am and then all of this will finally be over.”

“So.. none of the princes could be an ally?”

“Well.. Prince Seokjin might be. He's.. troubled, these days. The weight of becoming the leader and bringing an heir into this world is crushing him. I talked to him once and I feel like he might understand me the most.. of what it's like to trying to look out for your family.”

“Then why not try that?”

“I've only seen him twice. I don't know what he's doing, but he doesn't seem to be much interested in me, to be honest.”

“Well, you managed to sleep with four princes so far. That's more than half of them. If anyone can do it, you can,” she put her hand on your shoulder, “But you need to be careful. I told you that the whole thing about you not being pregnant would cause a problem.”

“I know. But that is why I need to be careful with Prince Seokjin. If I see him and I really do end up sleeping with him but not get pregnant, then people are going to seriously ask questions. That is why the king is still my first option and Prince Seokjin only the second.”

“Whatever you do, you need to hurry,” she turned her head and looked at the two girls sitting on the floor, still eating and chatting about which treat they like the most, “They've been alright, but they ask questions that I don't know how to answer. They know you're working at the palace now, but not what you do there. Neither does anybody else. Yet. But if people do find out, I'm worried that they might treat the two differently. You know how the town folk looks at concubines.”

“I know. Which is why I'm grateful that you haven't said anything to anyone.”

“You know I'd never do that.”

As much as you would have loved to stay the whole night and talk more with both Jun and your siblings, time wasn’t something you had much of these days.

Concubines, especially those with your rank, were only allowed a short period of time in the village. Nevertheless, you spent every second that you could with your family, had your sisters tell you about what's new, cuddled a bunch with them and assured them that you'd be back soon.

However, this time saying goodbye wasn't as hard as the last time, because now they knew that you’d indeed keep your promise of returning to them.

You were not like mother, you would not abandon them.

“Can you bring more treats next time?” the youngest asked with big eyes, making you chuckle and kiss her forehead, “The red ones with the pretty flowers on top?”

“I'll bring you as many treats as you want.”

“YES!” and with that, she ran back into Jun's arms who smiled as well.

And you took that opportunity to kneel down in front of the older one, “Tell me honestly. Are things alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “Jun takes good care of us, don't worry.”

“You haven't had any problems? Did anyone try to come in here?”

“No, people leave us alone,” she hugged you tightly, “We're alright, (Y/N). Really.”

God, she has grown up so much.. how long hadn't you seen her? What happened to your baby sister that always tried to get guidance from you? Now it was almost like you could ask her for guidance instead.

“I'm so proud of you..”

“Just come back to us safely.”

“I will,” you kissed the top of her head and then got up from the floor, “I will see you all soon, alright?”

And with that, you walked back to the palace, your heart not as heavy as the last time, thankfully..

..only to run into Eun and..-

“Prince.. Taehyung,” you bowed, but couldn't help the smile that spread on your face when you saw how Eun had her arm hooked with his.

So.. this was her secret Prince, huh? Definitely not a bad choice... but then again... none of them were a “bad choice”. 

“There you are! I thought I might see you at the market,” she smiled, “Where did you go?”

“I uh..- I was just.. taking a walk,” you lied with a nervous chuckle that you quickly covered up by switching topics, “Anyways.. did you enjoy your day?”

“Ah, it was so nice, we had a lovely time.”

As much as you liked seeing her this happy, something about this picture in front of you was making you furrow your eyebrows.

Eun had been the one to scold you for sleeping – genuinely sleeping – with Jimin. She had been the one to tell you that it 'wasn't your place', yet she had her arm hooked with Taehyung's and was looking at him like she loved him.

Whereas he seemed to be.. not nearly as interested in her. 

And why did she never tell you about her prince? Why had she kept it such a secret? You had told her about all of the ones you had slept with and now that you thought about it.. she seemed to have been relieved.. and now it all made sense. She had been relieved because Taehyung hadn't been one of them.

“My brothers told me quite a lot about you, (Y/N),” you three walked back to the castle, three guards in front, three guards behind you, “Good things only, of course.”

And see, you saw the way he looked at you, but Eun didn't. She just continued to look at him with those loving eyes and.. it hurt you. Because out of everyone at the palace, she was the only one that you truly cared about.

“Thank you, your majesty,” you said plainly, “I very much enjoyed my time with them.”

You needed to talk to her. 

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” you pulled Eun aside at dinner later that night.

You thought about doing this some other time and giving her a bit more space, but you hadn’t been able to think about anything other than this. If she was truly in love with Prince Taehyung, then she needed someone to wash her head and tell her that this wasn’t a fairytale. 

“Of course,” she followed you into the gardens, a place where you thought it’d be best to have such a conversation. Most importantly, because of the privacy.

“If I ask you a question.. will you promise me to be honest about it?”

“Yes. We're friends, aren't we?”

Which was exactly why you needed to have that conversation with her. Because you might end up being the one breaking her heart in the end. Because if Taehyung wanted to have you, he would. 

“Eun.. why did you never tell me that Taehyung was your designated prince?”

“It.. just never came up.”

“It did.. a lot of times, actually. I kept asking you about it and you kept laughing it off. It was as if you wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Don't be silly,” she fidgeted with her hands, “Why would I keep that a secret?”

You stopped walking and gently grabbed her arm to make her stop too, “When you first met me, you said you wanted to be my friend because the other girls were all very competitive over their princes and that they had this mindset that they might change them and make them fall in love with them,” when she lowered her head, you knew you were right, “Eun.. did you fall in love with Prince Taehyung?”

It didn’t take more than ten seconds for her to burst into tears, confirming your suspicions.

You immediately pulled her close, rubbing your hands up and down her back, trying to comfort her as best as you could. You pitied her, really. 

“Everyone else has at least two girls.. but Taehyung only has me. I thought.. I thought I was special..”

“But you are special,” you immediately leaned back to look into her eyes, “Don't you ever let a man not make you feel special. No matter who he is. You are beautiful, you are kind, you are intelligent and every man out there would be a fool not to see that.”

“But Taehyung..-”

“Is.. a different case,” you shook your head, “You said it yourself, Eun. These princes aren't looking for love, they're looking for sex and someone to give them children.”

“Not with you.. you aren't like that.”

“Yes, Eun, I am exactly like that. I'm just like you, just like every other girl here.”

“No,” she wiped away her tears and took a step back, “I overheard Taehyung talk to one of his brothers..”

“So..?” you furrowed her eyebrows, not knowing what she was trying to tell you here.

Eun straightened her back, “I don’t know which brother it was, but one of them told Taehyung that they had fallen in love with you.”

[emptymasks]

It’s my birthday on May 21st and since I can’t go out and celebrate, l thought it could be fun to host a stream of one of my favourite musicals! I’ve been getting a lot of new followers from my posts introducing and explaining European musicals / non-English language musicals and hopefully this will attract some people who’ve never watched Tanz Der Vampire before. I wish more people would give things not in English a chance.

[Text from above gif: emptymasks’ birthday stream! Tanz Der Vampire, German language musicals with English subtitles. Berlin 2011 cast. 2 hours and 26 minutes long. 21st May 2021, 11pm BST UK time (GMT+1). 5pm CDT/6PM EDT/7PM MDT/8PM PDT]

Genre: Horror comedy romance musical. There’s a little blood as it is about vampires, but no gore and no jump scares or anything meant to be scary. If you like gothic horror or Phantom of the Opera or rock operas there’s a good chance you’ll enjoy this. Or if you just like vampires. TW: Some fake blood and there are flashing lights in a few places. By: Music by Jim Steinman. Lyrics and book by Michael Kunze. Summary: Professor Ambronsius and his young assistant Alfred are on the hunt for vampires and stumble upon a small village. They suspect that the villagers know more about vampires than they let on, and soon discover there is a castle in the woods where the vampire Graf von Krolock and his son Herbert live. While staying at the inn, Alfred meets Sarah, the innkeeper’s daughter, her father being so overprotective that he keeps her locked in her room every day and every night. Sarah longs to escape her life and has been secretly conversing with Krolock for some time. She’s no damsel in distress, she’s attracted to him and what he offers and so she sneaks out of her home and goes to his castle. Alfred is convinced she has been kidnapped and he and the Professor go to the castle to rescue her.

Did you know Total Eclipse of the Heart was originally written to be a vampire love song but Jim Steinman abandoned the Nosferatu musical idea and gave the song to Bonnie Tyler, but then used it again when he finally got to make a vampire musical? But this is not a jukebox musical. There are 9 songs in this musical that are reused either in whole in or parts from previous Steinman songs, but the other 22 are new original compositions. 

There are canon LGBT+ characters! Graf von Krolock (Count von Krolock) is bisexual and his son Herbert is gay. And there are multiple amazing dance sequences.

This is the link to the room I’ll be streaming in: app.kosmi.io/room/47y7kb (can’t post it as a proper hyperlink here otherwise Tumblr will do it’s great job of blocking the post so just copy and paste it) Kosmi is great and I love it because it allows for so many different ways of streaming: from a video hosting website URL like Youtube or Vimeo, by screen sharing for things like Netflix, or form a file on the host’s computer. The only thing with Kosmi is that unless you have an account it will say ‘Anonymous [insert animal name]’ and you can’t edit what name appears so to help avoid confusion in the chat it would be awesome if you could make an account, it’s quick and free, so that you’ll have a username in the chat. But you do not have to take part in the chat to watch with us! You can just sit and lurk if you’d like, there’s no pressure to talk in the text chat.

[bibbawrites]

Beach Baby - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 4 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES YOU CAN READ PART 1 HERE , THE PREQUEL (PART 2) HERE AND PART 3 HERE 

Request: none

Word Count: 3907 words 😳

Summary: Part 4 of Single Dad!Charlie, Margaux and Charlie reunite with Owen in Hawaii after months apart due to lockdown, just in time for Margaux’s fourth birthday 

Warnings: technically underage drinking, i guess technically i have to warn that this is implied mutual crushing between owen and charlie, if you dont feel comfortable with romantic chowen do not read 

A/N: i couldn’t get this out of my head so i had to write it, and boy did i write it this is the longest non-chaptered fic ive ever written and honestly i could have made it longer but i didnt want it to drag on any more that it already did this is literally more than double the length of my normal fics, i got very carried away

also just a note that i’m not trying to be rude about the fans who met the boys at the airport and i’m sure in real life the boys were happy to stop and chat, but from a parents perspective charlie’s first instinct would be to protect his daughter so i just thought i’d add that. please don’t get upset for that part!

sorry for any mistakes, its 4am and im half asleep trying to read through this to post lol anyways, hope you enjoy! 

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @headheartbellarke​ @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-magnificent​ @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765​ @fandomxreaders​​ @ifilwtmfc

“Papa!” Margaux screamed, racing across the airport to Owen, the blond boy scooping up the nearly four year old and spinning her around when she reached him. 

“Maggie! I’ve missed you so much.” Owen exclaimed, pulling his mask down to pepper her cheeks with kisses, causing Margaux to giggle loudly. “Where’s your Daddy?” 

“Right behind you.” Owen spun around to find Charlie standing there, clearly smiling at him despite the bandana that covered his mouth, and Owen’s heart skipped a beat at how good Charlie looked in the early morning sun streaming through the airport windows. 

Meanwhile Charlie was thinking the exact same thing, admiring how attractive Owen was, especially when he was in his dad mode. He really understood why girls had such a weakness for cute boys with cute kids when he saw Owen with Margaux. 

Charlie stepped forward, pulling Owen into a tight hug and Margaux whined in complaint at being squished between her dad and her self declared papa. They pulled away from each other, both boys fighting to hide their slightly flushed cheeks. 

“I’m hungry.” Margaux whined, and Charlie was snapped out of his heart eyes daze, his whole focus back on his daughter. 

“Let’s get some food into you before our plane leaves then eh.” He replied, and Margaux nodded happily. 

Feeling bold Owen grabbed onto Charlie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It wasn’t unusual for them to do this but it was the first time doing it when they were well known enough that someone might recognise them. But neither of them really cared. They were just happy to be back together again. 

- 

The minute they arrived in Hawaii they were met with fans. As much as he loved meeting the fans Charlie couldn’t help but sigh slightly as he tried to protect Margaux as much as he could.

It wasn’t that the fans didn’t know about Margaux, because it was a well known fact that he was a single dad, it was more that he wanted to keep her away from the spotlight. She hadn’t asked for her dad to become a well known actor, and she didn’t deserve to have her life changed because of it. He was determined to give her the most normal life possible. 

Eventually they made it to the villa house that they were staying in while in Hawaii, and after throwing their bags into their rooms it was time to have a bit of fun. 

“Swim time swim time!” Margaux sung, running laps around the living room. Kenny chuckled at the small girl, looking up at Charlie who was following closely behind her. 

“It seems like only yesterday she was a tiny two year old who cried every time you left her side.” He said, and Charlie smiled fondly, sitting down on the chair next to Kenny. 

“She’s growing up too fast.” He agreed. “I can’t believe in less than 24 hours time I’ll be a dad to a four year old.” 

Margaux tripped on the tiles, landing with a clatter, her bottom lip jutting out. Charlie jumped up, but before he could even think about moving across the room Owen was by Margaux’s side, helping her up and pulling her into a tight hug. He whispered something in her ear and Margaux giggled loudly, her fall already forgotten.

Charlie smiled softly at the scene, his heart filled with love for both the blond boy and his little princess. 

“Daddy.” Margaux called, snapping Charlie out of his daze. 

“Yeah baby?” He answered, finally making his way across the room. 

“Can we swim now?” She asked, grabbing onto his leg. Charlie subconsciously ran his hand through her soft curls.  

“Of course we can.” He replied. Margaux glanced up at Owen. 

“Papa too?” She questioned. 

“Papa too.” Charlie agreed. Margaux peered past him, her gaze landing on Kenny.

“Coming Uncle Kenny?” She asked, and Kenny laughed, standing up. 

“Coming Little Gillespie.” He replied. 

Margaux smiled contently, taking both Charlie and Owen’s hands to pull them outside towards the pool. 

She really did have every single one of them wrapped around her little finger. 

- 

Dinner that night was special, as it was supposed to be Carolynn’s last day on the island. They decided on a joint party for her last night, as well as celebrating Margaux’s birthday a day early. 

They had headed to a tiny restaurant near their villa, and Charlie had allowed Margaux to pick whatever she wanted from the menu, not that it mattered because she chose chicken nuggets and chips anyways.

The meal was nice, and before they knew it they were arriving back at the villa. Jeremy, Carolynn and Kenny all excused themselves for bed, and Tori settled into the couch, flicking the TV on. 

“Bath and bed time baby.” Charlie told Margaux, and she pouted but obeyed, following him into the hallway. 

“Hey Char, can I ask you something?” Owen asked, trailing behind the father daughter duo, and Charlie stopped, letting Margaux run ahead to their room. 

“Anything.” He smiled. 

“Do you mind if I share your room? I know the other bed was meant to be for Margaux but-” Owen started, playing with his fingers slightly. 

“She can share with me.” Charlie cut him off. “Bed’s all yours.” Owen looked up, his eyes widening. 

“Really?” He checked. 

“Of course.” Charlie smiled. Owen grinned, throwing his arms around Charlie’s neck. 

“Thanks Char. I just didn’t really want to sleep alone.” He admitted, and Charlie squeezed him tight. 

“Any time.” He told Owen, and the blond boy pulled away with a smile, before heading off to the room he was originally going to stay in to collect his bags. 

Charlie entered the room that he and Margaux, and now Owen, were sharing, finding his daughter already snuggled into one of the beds, still wearing her dinner clothes. Charlie sighed, moving to pull her out of the bed. Owen entered the room, bags in tow, and Margaux looked up at him excitedly. 

“Papa! Are you sleeping here?” She questioned. Owen placed his bags in the corner before answering. 

“I am Miss Maggie.” He said, and Margaux cheered. 

“You don’t mind sleeping with Daddy?” Charlie checked, and Margaux shook her head, jumping up to throw her arms around Charlie’s neck. 

“Nope! More cuddles!” She stated. Charlie laughed, picking her up. 

“Exactly right. Now, it’s bath time.” He said, grabbing Margaux’s pyjamas as she clung to him. 

“Bye Papa!” Margaux called as Charlie moved to leave the room. Owen waved. 

“Bye Maggie!” He replied, matching her enthusiasm. Charlie couldn’t help but smile. 

Margaux was so lucky to have someone like Owen in her life. They both were. 

- 

“Daddy! Wake up!” Margaux screamed, jumping on top of Charlie. He groaned, squinting as he looked up at his daughter. 

“What time is it?” He mumbled. Owen sat up in his own bed, grabbing his phone to check the time. 

“4:47am.” He informed Charlie, his voice thick with sleep. Charlie tried to ignore how sexy Owen’s morning voice was, instead focusing on his daughter. 

“Mags it’s too early to be awake.” He told her. Margaux pouted, flopping down on top of him. 

“Daddy, it’s my birthday!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled, kissing her cheek. 

“I know baby, happy birthday. Now can we sleep for a little bit?” He tried. Margaux thought for a moment. 

“Only if Papa comes here too.” She decided. 

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly, eyes fixed on Owen as the younger boy sleepily slid out of his bed with no hesitation, and into Charlie’s, snuggling into Charlie’s side the minute he laid down. Margaux squirmed her way under the covers, squishing herself in between the two of them. 

Charlie shut his eyes in an attempt to get back to sleep, but it was no use. He opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling, as Margaux slept soundly next to him.

His mind was racing, noticing every single little place where Owen’s warm skin was in contact with his. It felt like he was on fire.

“Stop thinking.” Owen mumbled, and Charlie turned his head to see Owen staring at him, his eyes half shut with sleep.

“How did you know?” He questioned. Owen gave him a small smile. 

“I always know. Whatever it is, just ignore it for now. Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a big day.” Owen whispered. Charlie paused for a moment, just staring at Owen in the dim light from Margaux’s nightlight. Even half asleep in the almost complete darkness of the room Owen still looked gorgeous. Charlie swallowed. 

“You’re right. Thanks O.” He replied. 

“Love you.” Owen yawned in response, his eyes shutting again. Charlie smiled softly, moving his hand to brush a bit of Owen’s hair off his face.

“I love you too Owen.” He replied, despite the fact that the younger boy was already asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to Owen’s head, and lowered his voice to no more than a whisper.

“More than I probably should.”

- 

After what felt like no time at all Charlie was being shaken awake again. 

“Daddy is it time to get up now?” Margaux questioned, sitting on his chest. Charlie yawned. 

He reached over and checked his phone. It was just after 6:30am. 

“Okay we can get up. But we’re gonna leave Papa to sleep a little bit more, okay?” Charlie compromised. Margaux thought for a moment before agreeing. Charlie grinned, sliding the both of them out of the bed careful not to wake Owen. Once they were out of the bed Charlie lifted Margaux up, placing her on his hip. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple.  

“Now. Let’s go make some birthday pancakes.” 

- 

“Happy birthday Little Gillespie.” Jeremy sung, entering the kitchen with Carolynn close behind him.

Margaux grinned, her mouth full of pancake. 

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, her words muffled by her food. Carolynn stepped past Jeremy, moving to place a gentle kiss on Margaux’s head and whisper to her. Margaux grinned before looking up at her father.

“Hey Daddy?” She spoke. Charlie made a noise in response.

“Yeah?” He said, flipping pancakes onto a plate for both Jeremy and Carolynn.

“Do you think the birthday fairy could found me here?” Margaux questioned, her eyes full of hope. Charlie couldn’t help but smile, not even bothering to correct her words, as he placed the pan down.

“Should we go find out?” He asked. Margaux’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah! But first we have to get Papa.” She decided. Charlie nodded.

“You wanna go wake him up? Tell him we made him some pancakes?” He asked, and Margaux grinned, already sliding out of her chair.

“Okay Daddy!” She replied, before rushing out of the room. The room fell silent for a few moments before Carolynn cleared her throat.

“So Charlie...” She raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been in love with Owen?” 

Charlie choked on his coffee. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered. Carolynn grinned. 

“You heard me.” She said. Charlie hesitated. 

“I’m not-” He stopped. “I-” 

He groaned. There was no use denying it if clearly he was obvious enough that his friends had figured him out.

“Since filming.” He admitted. Carolynn cheered. 

“You owe me $20.” She told her husband, who glared at Charlie. 

“You just had to admit it, huh?” Jeremy shook his head, and Charlie shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“Admit what?” Owen’s voice came from behind them, deep from sleep, and Charlie took a sip of his coffee to try to distract himself. Owen always looked good but in the early morning light, his hair still a mess from sleeping, he looked ethereal. Charlie bit his lip to stop himself from staring.

“Nothing important.” Carolynn replied, and Charlie shot her a thankful look. 

“Can we see if the birthday fairy visited now?” Margaux sighed, clearly impatient. They all laughed. 

“Of course baby.” Charlie told her, standing up. He grabbed the plate of pancakes he had made for Owen, handing them to the younger boy as he passed him. 

Margaux lead the way to the living area where Kenny and Tori were already sat waiting, squealing with excitement when she saw the small pile of presents on the table.

“They came!” She exclaimed, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Margaux settled down on the couch as everyone spread out around the room, and one by one she opened the presents, eyes widening with excitement at every single one. 

Charlie had gotten her a few dolls that he knew she had been wanting, plus some new clothes, books and other toys. 

Jeremy and Carolynn had gotten her a small paint set with a Frozen paint by numbers. 

Kenny had gotten her a tiny version of the Sunset Curve shirt that the cast had all received. 

Tori had gotten her a little lilac tutu. 

Madi, Jadah and Savannah had sent their presents, some handmade earrings, little stud versions of the ghost drawings that Carolynn had created from Madi, a small pair of overalls from Savannah, and a colouring book from Jadah.

But her absolute favourite gift had come from Owen, a tan coloured bear from Build-A-Bear that he had dressed like Luke, and the clothes to change the bear into Reggie, Alex and Julie if she wanted to. 

After hugs all round the group decided to go their own ways, with Kenny heading off to spend the day relaxing, and Tori, Jeremy and Carolynn going to the beach to sunbathe since Carolynn’s flight had been delayed. 

“Where do you want to go today birthday girl?” Charlie asked, as he and Owen collected the pile of gifts to move them back to their room.

Margaux frowned in thought, the bear still grasped in her arms.

“Hiking.” She decided, and Charlie laughed. She was definitely his daughter.

“You sure? We can do whatever you want to do.” He checked. Margaux nodded, her attention focused on her new clothes that Charlie had placed on the bed to fold later. 

“I’m sure.” She said, reaching for the Sunset Curve shirt and overalls. “Can I wear this?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie agreed. 

“I’m gonna have a quick shower.” Owen said, grabbing some clothes out of his bag. Charlie nodded, focused on helping Margaux change out of her pyjamas into her new clothes.

“Do you think we can have some time tonight just you and me?” Charlie asked once Margaux was dressed, moving to grab her hairbrush and some hair ties.

“Yes please Daddy.” Margaux agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Charlie sat behind her.

“We could go get dinner just the two of us, and then come back here for birthday cake.” He suggested. Margaux frowned, clearly thinking. 

“Is it chocolate cake?” She asked after a moment, and Charlie paused from brushing her hair to kiss the top of her head. 

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He teased. Charlie finished tying her hair up into two little space buns, not quite proper buns but as close as he could get with her shortish hair.

“I hope it’s chocolate cake. I love chocolate cake.” She giggled, standing up on the bed and turning around to hug her father. Charlie wrapped his arms around her, a gesture that was so safe and familiar. 

“Me too baby, me too.” He agreed. Margaux snuggled her head into his shoulder. 

“Is Papa coming hiking?” She questioned. Charlie grinned to himself. 

“Do you want him to come?” He asked. Margaux didn’t even hesitate. 

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure he’d love to come.” Charlie assured her. She pulled away. looking him in the eyes. Charlie had always loved that she had gotten his eyes. 

“Do I ask him?” She said, eyes wide. Charlie struggled to contain a laugh at how serious she looked. 

“When he comes back, yeah.” He nodded. 

“When who comes back?” Owen asked, re-entering the room. Margaux jumped up, throwing herself at the 20 year old. He lifted her up with no hesitation. 

“Are you gonna come hiking?” Margaux asked, her bottom lip jutting out in a pleading way. 

“Of course I am. Wouldn’t want to miss spending time with my two favourite people.” Owen grinned, kissing her nose causing her to giggle. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat at the declaration that he was one of Owen’s favourite people. 

“Yay! Can we go now?” Margaux turned in Owen’s arms to face her father. He nodded, standing up from the bed. 

“Shoes, and then we can go.” He said, and Margaux squirmed her way out of Owen’s arms to go find her running shoes. 

Charlie exchanged a look with Owen, the both of them thinking the same thing. 

It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Hiking with a just turned four year old was exhausting, even despite them choosing the easiest possible trail so that she wouldn’t have any issues.

It was fine at first, Margaux excitedly looking at the plants and trying to spot any animals in the trees, but after about twenty minutes she got bored and tired, and Charlie and Owen spent the rest of the hike passing her back and forth between the two of them.

Finally they made it back to the villa, and after a quick stop for lunch Margaux was recharged and ready for the rest of the day.

“Can we swim?” She asked. Charlie nodded.

“We’ll go and get changed, and then we can go in the pool for a while until we have to get ready for dinner, okay?” He suggested. 

“Okay Daddy.” Margaux smiled sweetly. 

-

After quickly changing into their swimmers, Charlie, Margaux and Owen ended up in the pool, Jeremy and Carolynn lounging nearby. 

They swam for a few hours until Margaux got thirsty, and with a promise of apple juice she and Charlie climbed out of the pool leaving Owen to go sit with the Shada’s. 

Charlie walked inside the villa, finding Kenny sat at the kitchen bench reading while Tori lounged on one of the couches, staring at her phone. 

“Why don’t we do cake now, so that you don’t have to worry about rushing home?” Kenny spoke up, as Charlie manoeuvred through the kitchen to get the apple juice out, Margaux clinging to his chest like a baby koala. 

“That’s a good idea. Do you want to do your birthday cake now Mags?” Charlie asked his daughter, pouring her some apple juice. She sipped on the juice, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled. 

“Okay, can you go get Papa, Aunty Care and Uncle Jer for me?” He asked, placing her down. She nodded eagerly, handing her cup of juice to him before rushing outside to where Owen, Jeremy and Carolynn were still sat.

Charlie grabbed the cake out of the fridge and placed it on the bench, before putting the four candles in, and grabbing a lighter.

“Have you seen my camera Kenny?” He asked, and Kenny just pointed to the end of the bench where the camera was sitting. Charlie smiled gratefully, grabbing the camera.

“Want me to take photos?” Tori offered, and Charlie nodded, handing her the camera. 

Margaux re-entered the room, Owen and the Shada’s following close behind her, and when she reached her father he lifted her up. Kenny took the lighter, lighting the candles on the cake and together they sung Happy Birthday to Margaux, Tori snapping photos as the four year old blew out her candles. 

Charlie held Margaux close to him as Kenny divided the cake up, thankful that he had such an amazing family to spend his little girl’s birthday with. 

-

When Charlie and Margaux made it back to the villa after their dinner that night, the newly four year old was ready to fall asleep. Charlie carried her to bed, silently thanking his past self for deciding to give her a bath and do her birthday cake before they went to dinner because now all he had to do was change her into her pyjamas. 

He changed her quickly seeing that she was almost asleep, and tucked her into the bed. 

“Did you have a good birthday baby?” Charlie asked softly, settling down next to his daughter.

Margaux just nodded in response. 

“That’s good.” Charlie ran a hand through her curls. “Goodnight baby girl.” 

“Big girl.” Margaux mumbled sleepily. Charlie smiled, leaning down and kissing her head. 

“You might be a big girl now but you’ll always be my baby girl.” He whispered. “I love you.” 

“I love you too Daddy.” Margaux replied, her eyes already shut and her arms wrapped tightly around her new bear. Charlie stood up slowly and headed to the door, leaving it open a crack for a little bit of light to shine in. 

He paused for a moment, just taking in the reality that Margaux was already four years old, and that she was growing up too fast. With one last look at the door he made his way down the hallway and outside to where he knew Owen was waiting. 

“She’s asleep.” He announced, flopping down on the outdoor sofa next to Owen. 

“I’m not shocked, she’s had a big day.” Owen replied, handing Charlie a cold beer that he had clearly gotten for him. Charlie took it thankfully, taking a large swig. 

“Can you believe that she’s four already? It feels like she was only just born and I was waking up to find out that her mother was gone and that it was only me and her. It was terrifying at the time, but looking back I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He rambled. Owen rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder and Charlie wrapped his arm around the younger boy, pulling him closer.

“You should be proud of yourself Char. You’ve done an amazing job.” Owen complimented, snuggling closer to Charlie as he took a mouthful of his beer.

“You think so?” Charlie questioned. Owen nodded against his shoulder.

“I know so.” He sat up. “Margaux is the most well behaved kid I’ve ever met, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her misbehave once in all the time I’ve known her. She’s an amazing kid and it’s all because she has the most amazing father.”

“Thank you.” Charlie whispered, suddenly realising how close Owen was to him. He could feel Owen’s warm breath on his lips, and he found himself leaning in, the urge to kiss Owen overtaking his entire being. His lips brushed against Owen’s ever so slightly, but before they could properly commit to the kiss they were interrupted. 

“Hey, we’re gonna play...” Tori’s voice came and they jumped apart quickly. She trailed off, eyeing them carefully. “Were you two about to kiss?”

Charlie cleared his throat. Owen’s eyes widened.

“Uh... no?” Owen lied. Tori shot them a suspicious look but clearly decided against pushing.

“Right... well we’re gonna play Cards Against Humanity if you want to join us.” She told them, before turning and heading back inside. Neither Charlie nor Owen moved, the silence was deafening. Finally Owen spoke.

“Sorry.” He muttered quickly, before standing up and rushing inside. Charlie groaned, watching him leave, the feeling of Owen’s lips still lingering on his own.

“Fuck.” He sighed, downing the last of his beer before standing up to join the rest of the group inside.

He would have to deal with the Owen situation later.

[morimakesfanart]

Hi (●’◡’●)ﾉ first I'm not trying to be rude or rush it's a genuine question 😅 but ruffly how long does it take to write and draw one chapter? I've always wanted to write and draw my own comic but as a college student I hardly have time 😅

It completely depends on the level of detail in the drawings and the number of panels. It's been a while since I timed myself. I took a while to answer this so I could see how long things actually take for me right now. Also, note I am doing this while working a full time job, taking care of my family, and doing constant physical therapy to combat my chronic pain and other disabilities. (I only have about 10 hours of free time every week to work on drawing comics if I'm lucky.)

I write my stories in arcs. First I write a lot of events and character developments (including character motivations) that will happen in the arc -often this is just in my head (not written down). Then I just start writing and I don't worry if it's good or in character though I will still try to do that. The point of this is to give me a more concrete outline to work with. "It's easier to edit and change something than it is to make something new," I think that's how that saying goes. Then I reread and edit/rewrite scenes keeping every character's motivation in mind. This often leads to many changes in how things happen because once every character is having their motivation and ability to problem solve considered they can't act as plot devices as easily.

With fanfiction specifically, this is the stage where I rewatch and reread scenes with the characters I'm writing. The types of neurodivergent that I am makes mimicking and mirroring easier for me. It also helps that I grew up in theater. I do my best to mimic their ways of talking, and get into their head space so I can better write them. When I reread what I wrote and I can hear the actor's voice in my head then I know I captured the personality of the character.

Writing an arc normally takes me 3-5 months depending on length and what I have to set up for the start of the next arc. As the first chapters in the arc solidify I can start posting them, but only if I have about 1/4-1/2 of the arc written out in full. When writing, I go back and forth between all the chapters to make sure that there is enough foreshadowing and follow through. I reread my own story many times to make sure every flows together too.

Now for the drawing/comics side:

The long chapters of Sindria's Prophet have as much plot as 3-6 chapters of comics. Webtoons originals have a minimum of 30 panels per chapter for their plot based series. My average for comic chapters is about 45-50. (I am not an Originals writer & post on both Tapas and Webtoons CANVAS.) After learning how short their chapters are, I've started writing shorter chapters.

I can get done chibi panels in 15-30 minutes. My slice of life comic is normally 5 panels, but sometimes I've gone as high as 15. I tend to take between 45 minutes and 2 hours to get done 5 panel chibi comics.

Non-chibi panels take between 30 minutes and 2 hours. That's for each panel. If it's just a head shot and I've draw that character from that angle before it can be done in 15 minutes as long as it's not a character with a lot of accessories.

The lineart for the Gojo piece I recorded before took about 20-30 minutes. I was also chatting with a friend at the time or I probably could have done it faster. I got the whole thing done at a leisurely pace in about 2.5-3 hours. (picking colors took me a while.) The Sinbad sitting up in bed illustration took about 2-2.5 hours because of the amount of detail that went into the background and checking references. Most of that time was on line art. only about 5-10 minutes were shading.

A waist up of Sinbad with all of his metal vessels used to take me 2-3 hours for just the lineart because of the amount of detail. I've cut it down to 1-1.5 hours since I've drawn him so much and have figured out short cuts for drawing him.

To cut time for my original comic, I don't do shading anymore, but I do have a flat grey layer so I have a few tones to help things stand out. I do most of the shading in the lineart now. For special moments I will use a shading layer though.

Time break down for about 40 panels (after scripting): 5-10 panels will be chibi - 75-150 mins (1h15m -2h30m) 5-10 panels copied with minor edits - 60-100 min (1h-1h40m) 5-10 panels of just head shots etc - 150-210 min (2h30m-3h30m) 5-10 panels of high detail/ with background - 330-630 min (5h30m-10h30m) Total: 10h15m - 17h55m

This does not include figuring out panel layout or lettering etc. For that add another 2-4 hours. Also note that none of my comics are in full color. For full color add 30mins -1h30m per panel. I have an editor for my original work which adds a lot of extra time too.

Things taking so long to draw is why I only make some comics for the fanfic instead of drawing the whole thing. We would still be in the Balbadd arc if this was a full comic

[amhrosia]

They Don’t Know About Us (Pt.1)

Description: Bucky realizes that he loves you, but won’t reveal his feelings because you’re Tony’s daughter and he values his life.

Warnings: angst, slight age-gap (legal, obvi.), fluff, illusion to smut, but no actual smut (yet!), cursing

(A/N: 2.7k words // I just created this account to post some of my old fanfics/imagines/blurbs that I had saved on my computer. I’m gonna upload them a little bit at a time and continue to write more! Requests are always open :P)

Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

The city was beautiful at night. Your bedroom window provided one of the best views of New York in the world, and you’d been sitting on the window ledge for hours watching as the city lit up the night sky. You’d long missed Jarvis' call to dinner, perfectly content to sit in front of your window for the time being and sneak into the kitchen for food later.  

To be perfectly honest, you were starving, but not hungry enough to endure a meal in the same room as Bucky. He’d been acting strange recently, and you were almost positive that you were the cause of this odd behavior. He was acting like he did when you first met him; quiet, broody, extremely reserved. Nothing like the Bucky you’d grown used to over the last six months. It was as if all the sudden a flip had switched, and you were no longer a priority of his.  

Your affair with him had obviously been kept a secret. No one in the tower knew about your late-night rendezvous, save for Jarvis, who kindly served as an alarm clock when you and Bucky accidentally fell asleep in your bed. 

It had started, almost by accident, six months ago. It was 2:30 in the morning, and you were full on sobbing into a book because your favorite character had died. Bucky had knocked on your door after waking to your heart-wrenching sobs. The walls between your rooms weren’t nearly as thick as you’d originally thought.

He’d awkwardly stepped into the room asking if you wanted to talk about it, and the rest was history. He came by almost every night after that, asking you about your favorite books, movies, and music and in turn, sharing his favorites with you.  

It was an innocent friendship at first, but you couldn’t help noticing his lingering gazes when you were around the rest of the team.  Your heart would quicken when he entered a room, giving you a soft smile as he continued his work for your dad. Lingering stares turned into “accidental” brushes against your hand when you walked by each other in the hallway, or a light touch on the waist when no one was looking.  

Your late-night chats soon became more serious. He opened up about his past with Hydra, providing far more details than he ever had with Steve or your dad. You talked about the overwhelming pressure of being Tony Stark’s daughter and a part of the Avengers. Both of you revealed information to each other that you’d never said out loud before.

The first time you kissed was three months ago. You’d been rambling about your dad’s decision to finally allow you to have a solo mission. He had leaned across the bed and planted his lips to yours, holding your face gently in his hands.  

“I’m so proud of you,” he had said with a wide smile.  

This continued for months, him sneaking into your room and kissing you until the sun began to rise, when he’d begrudgingly go back to his room to avoid suspicion from the rest of the team.  

You had long since accepted your feelings for him, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell him. You had never discussed what your relationship was to Bucky, never talked about labels or the future. For all you knew, you and Bucky were friends with barely any benefits. You hadn’t slept together or done anything else besides kiss.

This troubled your mind when Bucky’s visits became more and more infrequent. He started avoiding your gaze in public and wouldn’t touch you unless it was necessary. The last night he had stopped by your room was almost two weeks ago.  

The past few weeks you had barely talked and ate even less. Everyone in the tower was concerned about you. You’d stopped spending time in the common areas, preferring the solitude of your room. You had no excuse when you were asked why you’d been spending so much time in your room. You’d simply shrug the question off, mumbling an “I don’t know”, before returning to your room.  

In truth, you were avoiding Bucky like the plague. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as his cold, uninterested demeanor. When you were forced out of your room by your dad, you sat in the furthest seat from Bucky, avoiding the area of the room he was in. The few times you’d snuck a glance at him, he had been slouched in his seat, glaring into his hands.  

Your stomach growled loudly as you rested your head against the window, wondering if you’d ever get the courage to confront Bucky.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. You didn’t lift your head when you heard the familiar steps of the man you loved shuffle into the room.

“You weren’t at dinner. I brought you some of it.” Bucky’s voice was low and raspy.  

You turned your head, glancing at him as he stood just inside the barrier of your room. He looked glorious, as usual, but that thought sent a sharp pain through your heart. His eyes were on yours, full of worry and doubt.

You cleared your throat.

“Thanks, Bucky. You can just set it on the desk.”

Your voice was wobbly, dripping with melancholic undertones.

Bucky nodded, turning to set the tray of food on your desk. You turned your head back towards the window, willing your tears to stay safely inside your tear ducts until Bucky left the room.  

“Y/n...” His voice was closer now. You could hear him shuffling his feet uncomfortably behind you.  

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek as you ignored his call. The pain of him being so close after so long was unrelenting.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He was right behind you now, gently running his fingers through your hair.  

“What did I do wrong?” You asked after a beat of silence. By this point, tears were streaming down your cheeks. You hastily wiped them away, refusing to turn around and face the inevitable of him breaking your heart without realizing it.

“Nothing, baby,” Bucky whispered, “Please look at me. I hate seeing you cry.”

You slowly turned to face him. He was on his knees looking up at you with tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

You kept your eyes on his, waiting for an explanation, or an apology for leaving you high and dry out of nowhere.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, y/n. You have to know that,” Bucky said, reaching up to lightly grasp your hands.  

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.  

“I don’t understand what the problem is all the sudden. Everything was fine until it wasn’t.”  

“I know baby,” he nodded, resting his head in your hands, “You have to know I wasn’t expecting any of this when I met you. I thought you were just some spoiled rich girl with nothing to offer. I have never been happier to be wrong. You’re so smart and easy to talk to. You get along with everyone and you’re a really skilled fighter. I would love nothing more than to spend forever hearing you talk about books and music and movies.” He said, looking up at you again.

Your heart was pounding. This was not what you had expected from the man kneeling in front of you. Everything he was saying was what you wanted to hear, but it didn’t make you feel any better. He was obviously struggling with some aspect of the non-relationship you two were having.

You kneeled in front of him, lowering yourself to his level and wiping the tears that had started to flow down his cheeks.  

“I still don’t understand what the problem is, Bucky.” Your eyes searched his for a clear answer, an understanding for why he had been acting so strangely around you.

“I think I’m in love with you, y/n, but I can’t- I mean I want to, but- ugh, I’m so conflicted,” He muttered, shaking his head, “Your dad is basically my boss, y/n. Do you understand how Tony Stark, fucking ruler of the world, could make my life hell if he found out how I felt about you? What he could do to separate me from you? I can’t be apart from you, y/n, I can’t. These last few weeks were torture, and you were only 20 feet away from me. Imagine if he sent me to a different country or something?”  

Your heart was buzzing at his words. He loved you. And he had just said it, out loud, to your face. You couldn’t help but laugh. This is what he was avoiding you for? His eyebrows furrowed as you wiped your tears away and suppressed more laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Everything. You.” You smiled, cupping his cheek. “I love you, James.”

His eyes lit up. You leaned in, kissing him softly. His arms enveloped you as he deepened the kiss, tongue meeting yours.  

You slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours after being apart for so long.  

He pulled back, resting his hands on your wrists and stopping you from unbuttoning the last button on his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He eyed you, breathing hard.  

“James Buchanan Barnes, I love you, but please, please, take my clothes off and fuck me.”  

That undid any self-control he had over himself. He quickly picked you up, bridal style, and carried you to the bed.

[page break]

The early morning light seeped into your room, waking you from your deep slumber. A heavy arm rested on your waist and you could hear the deep breathing of a certain super soldier cuddled up behind you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d awoken feeling this rested.

Wait.

Why is Bucky still here if it’s late enough for the sun to be up?  

Your eyes snapped open at the thought. Sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Bucky shifted, groaning at the abrupt movement.

“Jarvis,” you said, still rubbing your eyes, “why didn’t you wake us up?”

“Jarvis was updating last night. I didn’t realize you relied so heavily on him for your wake-up calls, my sneaky little offspring.”  

Your head shot up, eyes widening as you looked directly into the eyes of your father, who was standing at the end of your bed visibly fuming. Bucky stiffened beside you, lifting his head with eyes that matched your own.  

“I’m going to let you two get dressed. And then, I expect to see both of you in the lab. Is that clear?” Your dad’s voice was calm – too calm. He turned to leave, and you could’ve sworn that you saw smoke coming out of his ears.  

You and Bucky spoke at the same time.

“Dad, wait-”

“Tony, it’s not what you-”

Your father interrupted before either of you could get a sentence out.

His tone was noticeably rising. “I don’t care. You,” he said pointing at Bucky, “should be ashamed of yourself for preying on an innocent young girl. And you-,” he pointed at you, clenching his jaw, “you should know better than to screw around with a team member.”  

“But Dad, we’re not screwing-”

“ENOUGH. I’m giving you five minutes. If you’re not down there, you both can pack your bags and get out.”  

You watched him as he briskly walked out of the room.  

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.” You muttered, shaking your head. Bucky’s hands rubbed along your lower back as you mentally prepared for the shit storm that was about to go down in the lab.

“What was that all about?” Steve stuck his head in your room and immediately shielded his eyes, “Oh. Oh, man. Oh, man Bucky! What the hell?”  

“Nothing man, don’t worry about it,” Bucky responded, sitting up, voice still raspy with sleep.

“We should get dressed.” He turned to you, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

[page break]

You and Bucky stepped into the living room, fully dressed and terrified. Natasha, Bruce, Steve, and Thor were sitting in various chairs around the room, trying way too hard to look like they weren’t talking about what Steve saw before you entered the room.  

“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to act like you don’t know,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

They visibly relaxed, the room’s energy lightening immensely, and then immediately began pestering you and Bucky with questions.

“How did this happen?” Thor asked

“Why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” Natasha looked hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Bucky?” Steve looked even more offended.

You were not equipped to handle the interrogation from the others. The morning had been shitty enough. Your glowing mood from the events of the night before was seeping away quickly. Seeing that you were overwhelmed, Bucky led you to the elevator, mumbling a “tell you later” to the group.

When the elevator doors opened to lab, you slowly took a step out, sending a silent prayer out to the universe.

Your dad was sitting at his desk working on a piece from one of his Iron Man suits. The silence in the room was unbearable.

“That was six minutes.” Your dad said irritably, looking up at you as he waved away the help of his robot.

“Dad-”

“Tony-Mr. Stark,” Bucky stepped forward, “this isn’t what you think it is. I swear, we’re not just messing around. I love your daughter, more than I’d care to admit.” His voice trailed off as he looked at your dad.

Your dad stayed silent, looking Bucky up and down before turning to you.

“It’s true.” You added, meekly.

Your dad’s eyes narrowed. His eyes flitted back and forth between you and Bucky.

“Dad, please don’t freak out. I’m an adult. I wouldn’t have gotten into this if I didn’t think it was worth it. I love him. It hasn’t affected our work and it won’t.” You finally said, your voice strong and unwavering.  

“I don’t like this,” he responded, voice low, “but I can’t stop you, I guess. I didn’t realize you were so...involved with each other. I don’t think I need to say that if you even think about hurting her, you’re a dead man walking, super soldier or not.”  

You let out a harsh giggle, clapping your hand over your mouth as Bucky and your father turned to look at you, one with amusement, and the other with disdain.  

[page break]

“Do you think it’ll be that awkward forever?” You groaned, falling forward on your bed.

Once you and Bucky were released from your dad’s scrutiny, you went to tell the rest of the Avengers as much information as you could muster. You definitely did not want them getting all the gory details of your relationship with Bucky.

Bucky laughed, “No, I just think everyone’s trying to get over the fact that we’ve been...together...for the last three months and none of them figured it out.”

He sat down on the edge of your bed, reaching over to pinch your side.  

You smiled, climbing over him to straddle his waist. His eyes, an icy blue that had recently become your favorite color in the world, bore into yours as he rested his forehead against yours.

“So...last night was fun.” You mumbled

“Yes,” he affirmed, slightly nodding.

“Does that make me...”

“My girlfriend? I would hope so. Is that something you’d be interested in, Miss Stark?” He smirked, eyes glimmering.

“Yes,” you breathed, smiling.  

“Well then, I guess it’s official.”  

He leaned in to kiss you softly. His lips were the softest thing you’d ever felt. You couldn’t get enough of him.  

You could definitely get used to this.

[soulst1c3]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME

**Note: We’ll continue filling this out throughout the next few days! Wanted to get this info out here sooner rather than later, though. Thanks for your patience!

Mun Name: Del Age: 21+ Contact: Discord (preferred), DMs

BOLD what fully applies. Italicize if somewhat interested. Strikethrough if not interested. Unaltered text means I just haven’t thought about it very much, and don’t have strong feelings in any direction.

Character(s) I RP: Ukitake Jūshirō

Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?: N/A

Current Fandom(s): Bleach

Fandom(s) you have an AU for: N/A; if you’d like to do crossovers, let’s chat about that specifically.

My language(s): English, and reasonable French tbh

Themes I’m interested in for RP: Fantasy / Science Fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc.

Themes/Genres you have an AU for: I’ve thought through a few ways in which a post-TYBW JuuLives!AU can reasonably come to fruition. Beyond that, AUs that Juu and I have written in the past have usually come from one-on-one convos with other muns. If we find something we’re both excited about, or if we discover that we have other fandoms in common, then we’ll often try out an AU to see whether it’s a good time.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella.

Asks can be sent by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals* / Personals* / Anons* *for headcanon asks only

Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO Only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO

Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck

Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?  YES / NO

Are you atm open for new plots? YES / NO / DEPENDS

Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT (School schedule means activity varies; feel free to nudge me if I’ve let something sit for too long!)

How long do you usually take to reply?  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years.

I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates (haven’t tried, no opinion yet) / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / AU-versions (as main or only verse)

Do you post more IC or OOC? IC / OOC

Are you selective with following others?  YES / NO / DEPENDS N/A, given the group requirements. Also, this is a side blog, which means I follow from my main anyway.

Best ways to approach you for RP/plotting: Slide into my DMs! Or, shoot me an ask! I’m notoriously awful at messaging folks first. My midwestern upbringing coupled with my irl anxiety mean that I have that whole “I don’t want to bother people” thing rattling around. Juu is far more confident than I am, and he’s a social boy. He almost always wants to spend time with folks, even if I, his mun, am not always totally sure how to facilitate that.

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: Have opinions about what you and/or your muse want to explore! If I only wanted to explore this fandom in an insular way, I’d just write more fic; I enjoy RP because it’s collaborative. Feel free to surprise us, or to suggest ideas that seem a little out of left field. In other words, don’t worry about getting something “wrong” as we’re plotting together.

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner? Depends. If it’s a concept or a verse that Juu and I have strong feelings about, we’ll say so, and we’ll probably put a lot of work in by default. If it’s a concept or a verse that the other mun/muse has strong feelings about, then we’re glad to let our partners do more of that work. Regardless, both Juu and I like to do our due diligence when plotting, whether that’s researching a period of history for an AU, revisiting canon content for a canon-compliant verse, diving deeply into another fandom for an AU/crossover moment, etc.

Mostly, plotting arises organically through DMs with other muns. We both discover that we’re excited about something, and then… suddenly, we’ve got the foundations of a thread! In the past, when threads or concepts have come about this way, we’ve often built out the world and the context softly as we write. That’s fine by me, also – Juu and I are very, very content to make discoveries along the way.

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?  YES / NO / DEPENDS

And why?

First, it helps me keep things organized. I don’t to spend time and energy keeping track of a thread that’s been dropped.

Second, if a mun/muse has lost interest in a thread or a concept/vibe, I want to know that. It’ll help us write together more successfully in the future. It means that we can chat and plot new threads that we’re both excited about, and that’s much more compelling to me, because I’d like for both of us to be excited about what we’re writing.

Will you tell your partner?   YES / NO / DEPENDS

If I don’t tell my partner, then always it’s by accident. I track my threads using a thread tracking tool, and straight-up, if I forget to enter a thread in the thread tracker, it’ll be lost to the ages lol.

If I’ve let a thread sit for several weeks, please nudge me! I try to be timely and consistent and reply in roughly chronological order, but sometimes, threads slip through the cracks.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?  YES / NO

And why?

I tend to be more comfortable diving deep into Real Shit with my muses if I feel comfortable with the muns, too. And! It’s a collaborative, community activity, so I want to get to know y’all!

Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?

Yes, as long as there’s a reason. If you’re saying something unkind just for the sake of being unkind, then I’m not interested. If, by contrast, you’re drawing a boundary or asking for something you need or pointing out something from canon that I’ve overlooked (etc.; that’s not an exhaustive list of possibilities), then go for it.

Do you think you can handle such a situation in a mature way?  YES / NO

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?

Character exploration, primarily. I love my muses dearly, and I want to get to know them better.

Also, when my muses experience deep feelings, it’s tremendously satisfying to me. In many ways, I RP because it just feels nice, and because, through them, it allows me to experience feelings that I otherwise might not get to. 

Also also, love me some collaborative storytelling!! It’s just! Fun!!

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:

Some specific characters I really want to develop relationships with include:

...quite literally any canon character tbh. Juu is outgoing and social by nature, and his capacity for care is almost endless. He wants to get to know everyone - even characters he doesn’t have notable canon relationships with.

What Type of Starters do you prefer?

I prefer specific starters to vague starters, if you’re dropping starters from memes. 

I’m a big fan of starters that we develop together through plotting convos, too.

What Type of Starters do dislike, can’t work with?

We can work with just about anything. Starters that leave things too open-ended are less fun for us (e.g., “Why are you here?” or “I’m sorry” or something), but they’re not a bad place to start if we haven’t worked together much.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?

What type of characters catch your interest the least?

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?

Do you rp smut?:  YES / NO / UNKNOWN.

Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS

Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO

When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?

Both! It’s enjoyable for me as the writer, because it makes me feel good physically/emotionally, but Juu and I will never write smut unless Juu thinks it makes sense. Juu is incredibly, incredibly demisexual, and even if I think it’d be beautiful and/or fun to RP smut for the aesthetic, for the vibes, for a casual good time, etc., it’s just not something we’re often inclined to do. The part where we work toward and approach the smut is the character development part, usually, but Juu has surprised me before. Sometimes he’ll have a really important emotional breakthrough during an NSFW scene; it’s happened before.

…it’s probably worth noting, though, that once Juu has entered into a relationship with someone, we’ll RP casual smut whenever. He loves his partners deeply, and wants to make them feel good and nice as often as he possibly can. It’s one of his very favorite things.

Anything you would not want to rp there?

Nothing with minors. On that note, please never try to sexualize Sogyo no Kotowari either.

Are ships important to you?  YES / NO

Would you say your blog is ship-focused?  YES / NO

Do you use read-mores?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES.

Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship

What do you love to explore the most in your ships? 

What is your smut tag?

TBD; we don’t have any smut on dash yet.

Are you okay with pre-established relationships? YES / NO.

And what kind of ones?

 SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE

What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:

With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:

With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:

What interests your Muse(s) in general:

What do they desire, is their goal?:

What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:

What do they value in a person?:  

What themes do they like talking about?:

Which themes bore them?:

Did they ever go through something traumatic?:  

What could possibly trigger them?:

What could set them off, enrage them?:

Is there someone /-thing they hate?:

Is there someone /-thing they love?:

Is your Muse easy to approach? YES / NO

Best ways to approach them?

Where are they usually to be found?

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.” 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

[transformers-fan-continuities]

So you want to make a Transformers continuity...

Basically, it all boils down to:

What do you want Transformers to be like?

Now go and make it happen! Do you want Starscream to be a bright pink Autobot jeep? Sure why not, it’s your canon now. Do you want the story to be about playing card games and sitting around the campfire, instead of some silly war? Sounds fun, go for it! The rules are made up and the only valuable things are the ones that are appealing to you.

Here’s a few tips on how to get started with that.

Know something about Transformers

This step is less important than you might think! I personally find a lot of satisfaction in knowing a lot of trivia from many different parts of canon so I can reference it in my own work, but you could come up with your own continuity having seen only one (1) piece of Transformers media. Knowing more about canon may be helpful to you, but by no means is it absolutely necessary.

That said, if you’d like to get into as much canon material as possible, TFWiki is an excellent resource. Seriously, it’s addictively fun to read with a page about practically everything.

Don’t shy away from OCs

Canon characters are great, especially when you can make them whatever you want them to be, but OCs are yours. Run wild! In fact, you don’t even need canon characters in an original continuity. Make it nothing but OCs. Go on, you have my permission.

On the flip side, you might want to use only canon characters. That’s also perfectly valid. So is a mix of canon and OC. Again, it’s your continuity! Do as you please.

What’s the basis of this continuity?

In other words, what’s your version of Transformers like? Shattered Glass? Cybertron-centric? Pre-war? Large cast? Earth team? Start with the thing that interests you most and go from there. A whole universe is waiting to unfold.

Also, what do you want to do with it? Write a fic, draw some redesigns, make a comic, do nothing but doodle and daydream in a messy sandbox, it all works. When you’re just starting out, you may have no idea if you want to do some specific thing with it, which is just fine. Plot, art, and organization in general are totally unnecessary unless you want them. If you do have an idea for, say, a comic, then maybe start planning your continuity accordingly.

Take notes!

Don’t trust the brain bug that tells you you’ll remember all this information, pshaw, you don’t need to write anything down. That’s a lie, and you will be very sad the next day when you’ve forgotten the best plot twist of the story. Any notes are good notes, even if they have nothing at all to do with the main focus of your continuity.

Ideas will change and mutate, and that’s a good thing

As you build and create and learn, the foundation you started out with might change. The goal of the plot might shift to the left, or you might want to revamp a main character, or you might decide all of them need total redesigns because they look ugly now. Go for it! The things you make aren’t set in stone, they’re here to make you happy. Pursue whatever new ideas you get. You might just come up with a brand new continuity!

Find a place to post and a community to support you

Not to plug this blog, but that’s one of the things I’m trying to build here! Anything counts, your IRL friends, your group chat, your fellow bloggers, anything at all. If you don’t want to share what you’ve made, that’s fine, but I have a feeling that the majority of folks want the connection and exhilaration of other people appreciating their work.

Community also makes it easier to come up with ideas, improve designs, and enrich your work. Nothing quite as inspirational as seeing other people doing the same thing you are!

Anyway, this is a non-comprehensive list. If you have questions or comments, feel free to reach out! Transformers is a fairly old fandom with some incredibly talented people, there will always be fans out there excited to talk.

[i-know-like-four-things]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Destiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s), Dean Winchester/Other(s) Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Meg Masters, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Modern AU, Sex Worker, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Prostitute Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: 
Dean is happy with his life as a hooker. He loves feeling the night air on his face every night, and he is good at his job. One day he meets Castiel, the handsomest man he’s ever seen with the ugliest car in the world, and everything changes.
***
Hey y’all! I’m finally posting the fic I was talking about! Im really excited for this, so please let me know what you think!


Dean felt alive tonight. It was a beautiful fall night in Kansas City, Kasas. The breeze was present enough that Dean didn’t feel like he was drowning in his own sweat, but it wasn’t enough to make him cold. Dean was wearing his favorite pair of shorts, – the jean ones that were obscenely short and tight – this little black tight mesh top, and these little black heeled boots. He felt hot, and like he could take the whole world by storm.


Dean was leaning against the building talking to his girls.There were plenty of people working the street, but Dean, Hannah, Jo, and Charlie all stuck together. Dean and Charlie mostly worked regulars, – Charlie the chicks and Dean the gay dudes– while Hannah and Jo picked up most of the stragglers. That wasn’t to say that Dean didn’t leave with a stranger from time to time; he was the only male hooker this side of town.


Dean was chatting with Charlie, trying to look sexy leaning against a building and laughing hysterically at something she had said, and failing miserably, when the ugliest car Dean had ever seen pulled up. Jo sauntered up to the golden continental, exaggerating the swish of her hips, and leaned in the passenger window, wiggling her booty a little bit. Dean could tell the moment Jo got rejected because she dropped the sexy dance and adopted some more practical behaviors, like bending at the knees instead of the waist. She tapped the side of the car and walked back to the group.
“You’re up, Dean-o,” she announced. Dean pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on and walked over to the car, throwing a wink over his shoulder at his friends.


When Dean walked up to the ugly-ass car, he took up Jo’s original position, resting his forearms on the open window. He looked in and was stunned.
The man sitting in the driver’s seat was absolutely breath-taking. He had this thick, dark hair that was sticking up every which way, and Dean couldn’t wait to get his fingers in it. Even sitting hunched over like the man was, Dean could tell the man was built like a ton of bricks. He had these big, elegant hands that were shakily rubbing up and down his thick thighs. His bright blue eyes kept flicking between Dean and the road in front of him, and he kept liking his plump, chapped lips.


Dean looked a little longer that he normally would have before he spoke. When he finally found the air to form words, he said, “Hey handsome. Looking for some company?” It was a cheesy line and he knew it, but Dean didn’t really care.
The man looked up at him hesitantly, meeting his eyes for a second before nodding. Dean opened the passenger side door and slid in. He buckled up and was busying himself with straightening his clothes, and he heard the man put the car in drive.


“So,” Dean began as the man started driving off, “where to?”


The man cleared his throat and said “My place,” and Dean just about died. Fuck, that man had a voice that was like wiskey and gravel and honey. If this guy got any sexier Dean’s soul might just leave his body and ascend to heaven without preamble.


“Okay,” Dean most definitely did not squeak out, “my name’s Dean, by the way.” 


“Castiel,” the man growls by way of response.


“Castiel, that’s a cool name. Mind if I call you Cas?” Dean asks.


The man nodded and said nothing else. Dean suddenly feels awkward, and starts fidgeting with his hands. Dean never gets that way. If someone gives him a bad vibe then he can talk his way out of it, usually, and he can usually make conversation with everyone else, but this was different. Something about Cas was throwing Dean off his game; he felt like a teenager going on a date. And that was dumb because one, Dean was a professional, and two, he didn’t even know the guy or have any personal connection to him, so pre-date jitters shouldn’t be an issue. And yet, Dean’s mouth was as dry as the Sahara and his hands were sweating like crazy.


The two men sat in silence for the rest of the short drive. Cas pulled into a middle-class neighborhood, and pulled his ugly car into the garage of a much prettier house. Cas shut off the car and closed the garage door before he got out, and Dean took that as his cue to do the same.


Cas walked into the house, Dean on his heels, and they made their way to the kitchen. The house was a lot nicer on the inside than the outside. Every surface held expensive knick knacks and the walls were lined with framed artifacts. Some of the frames help pictures, and some held awards, while a couple had diplomas. There was not a speck of dust in sight, and Dean was very impressed. 


“Would you like something to drink?” Cas asked.


“Sure, man,” Dean responded, wringing his hands. He still felt weirdly on-edge with this man.


“So no offence, man,” Dean began, “but you’re a good-looking guy, and I imagine you don’t have any problem scoring. So why do you need me?” Cas handed him a glass of water.


“Frankly, I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Dean raised his hands in an “I surrender” gesture and drank his water. When they were done, Cas walked off and Dean followed. They walked to what Dean assumed was the master bedroom. Cas stood off to one side and waited expectantly.


“Okay, so I charge $150 an hour, anything fancy or not vanilla needs to be discussed beforehand, and we use Pretty Woman rules; no kissing on the lips. Sound good?” 

Cas nodded at Dean’s terms, and went to get his wallet. He pulled out $150 in cash and handed it to Dean. 
“I assume you want me to bottom?” Dean asked. Again, Cas nodded his head. Cas then started using his nimble fingers to unbutton his shirt.
Dean put the cash in the back pocket of his shorts for the time being, and pulled off his top. He was working on the button of his shorts when he caught a glimpse of Cas. His shirt was discarded and he was working on his belt, but his chest is what Dean focused on. The man had well-sculpted pacts and a firm middle. He didn’t look like one of those ‘roided up, dehydrated male models, but he looked like he was carved from marble. His shoulders were thick and well-defined, and they drew Dean’s attention to the man’s perfectly sculpted neck.


And now Dean was really confused. He was just starting to think that maybe Cas’ equipment was lacking, and that was why he needed to buy his pleasure, but then Cas pulled down his pants. He still had his boxer briefs on, but Dean could tell the man was hung.
Dean shook himself out of his trance and continued to undress. He pulled off his boots, then his shorts, and lastly the little g-string he wore. Dean walked over to his shorts and grabbed a condom and a little packet of lube that he always kept in his back pocket.


Dean was always prepared before the night began. He didn’t like to think of himself as a pessimist, but many of the guys he serviced were rough and inconsiderate, and he didn’t want to take chances.


So Dean laid down on the bed and pulled out his plug that had a big plastic jewel at the end of it. He set the plug next to him on the bed, and he lubed his fingers up just a bit. He was pretty stretched out, but he made sure he could comfortably fit four fingers inside himself, just in case. When he was done, he propped himself up on his elbows and saw Cas looking at him. The man’s eyes were dark, and he had a feral edge to his gaze. If Dean wasn’t turned on by Cas’ physique, that look would have had him rock hard. 
Dean didn’t like intimacy in these situations – he just wanted to get a good fuck and move on with his life – so he turned over onto his hands and knees, facing away from Cas. Cas also seemed like he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, because he grabbed Dean’s hips without preamble and lined his cock up with Dean’s entrance. Cas pushed in slowly but firmly, and stilled when he bottomed out. 

Even though Dean was used to this, he still always took a moment at this point to catch his breath. It was easier when he was turned on, but he still always tried to center himself.
Without warning, Cas started to slam in and out of Dean at a blinding pace. His hips slapped against Dean’s ass with every thrust, and for all of Dean’s efforts, he couldn’t breathe. Cas changed his angle slightly and he hit Dean’s prostate so hard that Dean cried out. Dean just sat there, panting and shaking after every one of Cas’ thrusts, only to be blown out of the water again and again.


Cas reached up and grabbed Dean by the neck and shoved his face into the bed. Dean’s breaths were stifled with the bedspread, and between that, the pressure on the back of his neck and the brutal pounding he was taking, Dean was just about in subspace. Dean almost never went there, partially through sheer will, but this was just too good.


As impossible as it seemed, Cas kept fucking harder and faster. Dean was limp at this point, just letting Cas do what he wants. He was so close; he could feel heat curling in his gut, and his toes following suit.
“Cas,” he choked out, barely audible over Cas’ grunting, “I’m close.”
In response, Cas picked up the pace yet again. With one adjustment of his hips, he nailed Dean’s prostate and Dean was flying over the edge. He moaned wantonly, spilling onto the comforter underneath him. As soon as the sensation passed, Dean collapsed under Cas’ weight. Cas just let him lay there, panting, and continued to chase his release. 
After several minutes of Dean feeling blissfully full and overstimulated, Cas’ hips lost their rhythm. He jerked, grinded, and then he stilled. Cas fell on top of Dean. The two men laid there, catching their breaths and coming down from their respective highs.


Eventually, Cas got off Dean. Dean heard him walk around, take the condom off, and throw it away. Dean laid there for just a moment longer, before he lifted himself off of the wet spot he had created.


“Bathroom?” he asked horsley. Cas pointed to an adjoining room. Dean went in there and washed himself off. His head still felt foggy, and he was trying to make all his faculties work again, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. It wasn’t that he was complaining; he felt fucking great, it was just different than what he was used to.


When Dean was done, he walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. He found Cas had removed the comforter, and was now laying underneath the sheets. Dean dressed quickly, and pulled some small bills out of his boot, where he kept them. Cas looked about as dead as Dean felt, and Dean didn’t see him moving any time soon.


When Dean was finally dressed and ready to go, he turned to Cas. “You’re a pretty good lay,” he said, “let’s do this again sometime.” With that, Dean threw a wink over his shoulder and sauntered out of the room, scheduling an uber on his way out.

[hero-philia]

Hey I am a little scared to ask this but can I request a headcanon for Shinsou where the reader is Porphyrophobic, which means having a huge fear of the color purple. Maybe add some angst but happy ending because this boy deserves it. Love your writing!!

First of all, thank you so much for trusting me with this request!! I’ve done a bit of research to understand what porphyrophobia is about and what the symptoms are. Please tell me, if I’ve portrayed something in a wrong way because I’ll make sure to chance it >.< 

Remember guys: This is a safe place for everyone! So don't be scared to send me requests of all kind :)

I DID NOT PROOF-READ THIS, AAAAAAH! 

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The Fear of Being Misunderstood | Shinsou x fem!Reader

-> Reader suffering from porphyrophobia, the fear of the color purple

1386 words

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With a groan Shinsou opened his heavy eyes only to be faced with darkness. Starring at the ceiling he recapped how often he had turned around to find a comfy position already and how many times he had nearly drifted off to dreamland before reality had pulled him back. Another sign of displeasure escaped his mouth when he found himself thinking about the same thing all over again. 

„God“, he sighed as he finally decided to sit up. 

His hands buried in his wild hair, he got a grim reminder for what was keeping him awake tonight. 

„Oh, Shinsou! I didn’t expect to meet you here“, Kendou said in her usually cheerful tone. „I was out shopping with a friend. Speaking of friend, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my classmate Shinsou!“

But the girl that had been introduced to him as (Y/N) had just looked at him with wide eyes like she was facing a lion. The longer she had done so, the more irregular her breath had gotten until the girl had finally dropped her shopping bag to run off into the crowd. 

No matter how much he tried to recap the events, he couldn’t find a decent explanation for her behaviour. Since Kendou had left to chase after her with her dropped errands, the boy had found himself all alone yet again. Meanwhile with his feet on the ground, Shinsou buried his face in his hands. 

The way the poor girl had starred at him, pure fear in her eyes. Her body stiff with tension in every single muscle. He had no idea why, but (Y/N) really hated him. Or worse, feared him more than anything else on this planet. 

Maybe someone else had told her rumours about his past, like the bullies in elementary school and middle school had decided to do. Who knew what horrendous stories she had heard about the first year with the brainwashing quirk. Most likely she had suffered from the same state as all the others - Imagining the nightmares of what Shinsou had done with his ability before. Torture, manipulation, ruling like a demon king.

„I’m really sorry, (Y/N)“, Shinsou whispered into the dark.

Just the stars and the moon managed to bring a little bit of light into the room. If only he had been fast enough to explain himself to her. But now this chance was long gone and the simple ‚what if‘ kept him from sleeping. 

~

The next morning, a more than welcomed Sunday without classes, Shinsou basically hypnotised his cereals while fighting the urge to drop his head into the milk in order to give in to his tiredness. Normally he hated the intensity of several of his classmates, such a Tetsutetsu or Monoma this early in the morning - Before lunch to be specific. 

Reconsidering the circumstances that the image of the girl from yesterday was still ghosting around in his mind, he would love to have someone by his side to at least be annoyed from. May that be a non-stop enthusiastic Tetsutetsu or a non-stop bragging an 1-A hating Monoma. 

Back in his room he shut the door behind him before sitting down at the desk with his neatly organised study materials on it. 

In between the halfway finished homework for hero history and the stack of school book in alphabetical order his phone was charging. What finally caught his eye was the blue light, which blinked every few seconds, in the upper left corner of the display. Someone must have texted him, probably a new meme in the group chat of 1-B or Aizawa to reschedule tomorrow’s morning practice for the sake of the both of them.

He proceeded to wipe his face with his hand before he unlocked his phone. That was when his heart jumped to his throat. 

Two new messages from Kendou, a voice message and a text, the latter including the name (Y/N). 

Faster than his worries could take over his brain, he opened the chat room. Thanks to his eyes rushing way too much, he had to read the text three times until he understood what it was saying: Basically that you had wanted to send him a message, but hadn’t been brave enough because of his profile picture.

„Well, you know, it’s a selfie and therefore … purple“, Kendou had texted him. 

What on earth? This didn’t even make sense at all. So he clicked on the voice message, expecting to hear the familiar voice of his classmate while she would explain the situation and give more details. 

Hello Shinsou, this is (Y/N). The girl you’ve met yesterday in the company of Itsuka. 

Luckily the phone was laying safely on the desk as Shinsou’s head snapped into the direct of it. Chances were high that he would have dropped the device, if he had it in his heads now. Your voice echoed through his room as the voice message went on.

My behaviour was really rude when we ran into you. Itsuka has told me a bit about you and I think that you are a nice person, Shinsou. So I hope that you don’t hate me because of what happened. Though I will totally understand, if you do.

His jaw metaphorically dropped at your words. When he had obviously been the reason for your way of acting, he couldn’t be mad at you. How? There were plenty of options to choose from in order to find an explanation to be scared of him. Starting with his grumpy face, ending with his reputation.

You don’t have to listen to it, but I want to let you know what was going on. Seriously, I would have loved to talk to you. But … your hair and your eyes … N-Not that they are ugly or anything! They are totally not! Still … they are purple. I have a condition called porphyrophobia. This means that I’m afraid of the color purple.

For a second the boy didn’t know what to think of it. On the other hand you had absolutely no motivation to make up something like this and since you had already recorded this message for him, it had to be true. 

The way your voice had changed from being a tad bit excited and nervous at the same time to being filled with seriousness once you had begun to explain your burden, it got his attention like nothing else had recently.

When I faced you yesterday, the anxiety inside of me took over. I didn’t mean to treat you like this and I’m really sorry. Since we will most likely never meet again, please let me tell you one last thing. Though I haven’t seen it in action, your quirk sounds pretty amazing. You will definitely become a pro hero one day. I’m rooting for you! Good luck.

With this announcement the message ended. Your voice died, but it continued to replay in his head over and over again. Especially the last words had put him in a state of disbelieve.

You, a complete stranger, that had been so afraid of him, was having high hopes for his future. Even though you knew that he was attending class 1-B and therefore not the hero course yet, you believed in him with such optimism that it paralysed him for a moment. 

A few minutes later he replied to Kendou’s original text with more than his usual Thanks. 

Kendou herself tilted her head at the new message in the chat room as it differed a lot from what she had seen coming. But then she counted two and two together before answering her classmate: This is her number […] and no, there is absolutely no purple in your profile anymore.

Instead of Shinsou’s selfie a cat looked at her in his profile, which she identified as one of the strays from the park a few streets away. The formerly purple letters of his name were now changed to a casual black. Whatever he was intending to do, he had thought it through. Itsuka smiled as she sent her reply.

He didn’t exactly know why he was doing all of this. Nevertheless he was certain to find a way to thank you for being brave enough to send that voice message. 

You deserved it. 

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(A/N) - I’m seriously considering a part 2 of this! Shinsou needs more appreciation on my blog >.<

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Posted: April 7th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

[third-rail-vip]

fic writer interview

Tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron

I’m late so you’ve probably already done this but tagging:  @laurelsofhighever  @tanaleth  @asaara-writes  @allisondraste  @pchberrytea  @red-hot-chili-tiefling

Thank you for tagging me!  Sorry it’s taken me forever, my imposter syndrome has been laughing loudly in my face at the idea of being considered a ‘writer’.  Please, come in, sit down and have a look see at my complete lack of process or general idea of what’s going on :) 

Name:  Ginger

Fandoms:  Fallout 4 currently.  Dragon Age a while back.

Where you post:  I put all my full fics on AO3 and if it’s a shorter one then I post the whole thing here on tumblr too.  If it’s giant then I post a snippet here with a link to AO3.

Most Popular One-shot:  Based on kudos The Wanderers - yeah i’m surprised too.  It was my first venture back into writing after taking time out and it was a whole new fandom and a game I was new to.  It was a fun silly little exercise in me learning my new otp and working out their fairly early days dynamic.

By comments, it’s Complicated.  I’d had that one in mind for a while before writing it (probably why it took 4 rewrites before it felt how I wanted it to).  It’s a good bit of post-feral encounter wound tending and hurt/comfort with some feels starting up (or becoming harder to deny).

Most Popular Multichap:  I don’t have any multichapter fics any more.  Once upon a time I had a Dragon Age Origins one.  I’m not good at the commitment of multichapter.  I made it 14 chapters into that one and it took me so long to drag myself out of Lothering I took it out back and shot it.

My Fallout one shots are part of an ongoing series - Then I Met You - which is a series of snapshots of Ivy and MacCready relationship (it’s still in pre-relationship stages right now).  It’s mostly character driven rather than main plot driven, but it does fit within the fallout 4 canon with some backstory and timeline canon divergence.

Favourite story you’ve written so far:  You know what, it’s my least popular Fallout one, but I have a soft spot for Blood & Rain.  It’s the second one I wrote and it’s Ivy’s pov with a hint at her pre-war life (she’s a non-canon origin sole survivor).  I got to indulge myself in writing descriptions and some action - my old faves from when I used to write (pew pew is way harder to write than stab stab).  It’s also got a really important bonding moment between Ivy and MacCready.

Fic you were nervous to post:  Every damn one.  Sharing anything you’ve made really is putting a little piece of your heart out on a platter for everyone to see and waiting to see what will happen to it.   I guess The Wanderers was extra nerve wracking because it was the first thing I wrote after telling myself I’d never go back to writing, it was kind of a make or break experiment.  Blood & Rain because of the potentially triggering material, hoping I’d touched personal subjects with enough sensitivity but also still telling the story I needed to.  

How do you choose your titles:  hahahaha WELL, I finish faffing with the main story in AO3 and then am outraged that I’m expected to have a name ready before I can post it.  Honestly though, I’ve no formula.  They all have working titles in google docs which tend to be either a vague description of what’s happening, or a song title/lyric that’s running through my head while I write.  Like, the current fic I’m working on is ‘mass pike pt 2’ which is a useless title since the part 1 was actually called Gunners & Grudges.  And I won’t know until posting day what I’m going to call it.  

I did put some serious thought into a title for my series - Then I Met You.  I was cycling through song lyrics or things that might be a general vibe for them but settled back on one line from MacCready’s final affinity chat, “then I met you”. And it just fit so well.  Meeting each other is a turning point for both of them; whether you just look at it as making a friend in the wasteland, or finding some direction after drifting for too long, or there finally being a glimmer of hope after a long time in the dark (this all counts for both of them), something changed when they met.  

Do you outline:  Sort of.  I have a massive ‘fallout notes’ document where i just jot down whenever i have an idea of something i want to write, or just random bits of dialogue that spring into my mind (that may never see the light of day again).  From there, if I want to expand them I tend to bullet point with plot ideas, more dialogue, key backstory or important things I want to cover.  I tend to have multiple fics I’m doing this with at once and I bounce between them depending on where my mind has drifted off to that day.  By the time I actually come to write something, I tend to have a lot of notes to work from, in fact quite often I have to cut back on all the ideas I wanted to cram in and some things get slotted back into the giant fallout doc for future reference.

Complete:  I only have one shots, so technically they’re all complete and can be read, for the most part, individually without you needing to have read the others.  They will make sense, there might just be some context from previous one shots in there.

In progress:  Then I Met You is an ongoing series for my Mac x Ivy one shots.

Prompts?:  I do put prompt list out there for Mac x Ivy when my brain isn’t cooperating and I feel like a need a little extra inspiration.  For the current series I’m hoarding them and working them into the context one shots I have planned.  Pretty much all my Dragon Age Origins one shots over on AO3 were prompt fills.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about:  Ugh guys we’re getting close to them getting together territory and boy do I wish my brain was being cooperative so I could get these couple of stories in between down on the page and could start working in earnest on those ones.  There’s a lazy morning in bed after a big party fic I’m really looking forward to writing (I’m looking forward to both tbh) - any excuse to explore stories behind scars and tattoos and I’m there for it.  I’m even getting a commission from the amazing @tarberrymentats  for it *discord wiggle*, so yeah, I’m excited about getting to that one!

Anyway thank you for reading my ramblings x

[vampexx]

Thoughts on Luka and in general

Well, I have been working on an analysis for Luka’s character for a little while now and every time I worked on it, I just didn’t like the way it was turning out. As in, it wasn’t flowing well, it was super messy and patchy, and it was so long that I was losing track of all of the points I was planning on making....yes, that long. SO, I thought I would not only spare myself the headache, but that I would spare you guys too lol.  So I just threw this together hoping it would sit better with me and luckily, it does :) .

I was going to make this post some grand master-analysis on my theories, thoughts and opinions of everything from characters, theories, different ships, etc. and yikes, that idea was scratched pretty quickly because someone who rambles as much as I do, that’s the worst decision ever lol I do not have the time nor patience for any of that mess lol.

Besides, most of what was in this post before I scrapped it has all been said before so I didn’t want to be repetitive.

So instead, I have decided to include mainly my new thoughts on Luka since coming to a different conclusion and stance on his character. The rest will be included, yes, but in the form of links to my other theories and opinions that I was planning including originally to some degree for anyone who may care what my opinion is.

With all that being said, let’s talk about my new found opinion of Luka.

I have always agreed with those that said that Luka’s character was flat, 2-dimensional and too “perfect” to be true. Now here’s the thing, while I was writing the scrapped analysis that was essentially going to reiterate those same things, I came to the conclusion that Luka is, in fact, not perfect. 

For instance:

In the episode, “Silencer,” Marinette and Luka go to XY and his manager to defend Kitty Section when discovering their style and song were wrongfully stolen/ copied. Of course, Luka is a very reserved and subdued character so his flaws are more easily unnoticed at first glance. To spot his flaws, you have to look less at what he is doing (writing melodies, being compassionate, etc. you know, things that make him “perfect.”) and look more at what he is not doing. Back to my point in, “Silencer.” So, Marinette, as she normally does, is quick to defend and argue over the wrongful use of Kitty Section’s style and song. She ends up in a pretty heated argument with XY’s manager. Where is Luka, you ask? While he is in indeed angry like Marinette, but he is standing in the background not really helping nor backing her up in said argument when he arguably should have. Now, this is in fact a flaw. It is due to his non-confrontational and reserved nature that he does not get involved in the argument, neither to back up / defend Marinette, but also not to defend Kitty Section, his own band. He just let’s Marinette do all the arguing and talking while he’s just there watching, getting angrier and angrier, eventually being akumatized. 

Granted, Luka has shown to be not as good with words as say maybe someone like Marinette. What I mean by that is, he usually seems to speak via music so maybe he struggles with verbal expression although that would contradict his poetic words in, “Silencer,” and compassionate words in, “Felix.” Not that expression primarily through music is a bad thing, it is easily endearing to his character however it can also be viewed as another “flaw,” being that he is not a communicator unlike Marinette, who sometimes over communicates lol. It’s pretty clear that Luka does have some nice choice of words to say, however when he does talk, he doesn’t say a whole lot as in, it’s fairly brief. Otherwise, he keeps to himself it seems. Now Luka’s lack of communication can be foreseen as kryptonite to the Lukanette ship, just as I have said above, Marinette is a communicator and not Luka. For someone like Marinette, that could easily be a “turn off” for her, who is a very (sometimes overly) outwardly expressive person, although sometimes not by choice lol.

I may not have found many flaws for Luka, however I feel it’s enough to combat the statement of his character being too “perfect.” I agree, he seems that way at first. Due to his “laid back,” and “go with the flow,” type nature, it’s easy to potentially misinterpret him as a “too good to be true,” type of character. To reiterate, his flaws can be more easily found in what he is not doing, rather than what he is doing. For comparison, a good example of someone having flaws based off of what they do/ their actions (as opposed to inaction) would be Kagami, basing this statement off of her vastly differing personality from Luka. 

To sum up regarding Luka’s flaws, the ones that I have found so far are inaction, seemingly distant and disinterested (mentioned more in depth in link #2) and lack of general communication. Why he possesses those flaws are open to anyone’s interpretation. I for one, am not digging that deep.

Thus being why I have changed my opinion of Luka from being neither good nor bad, just generally indifferent to his character, to actually now being a Luka stan. Now, I’m not necessarily his biggest fan and I am certainly not a fan of Lukanette, but I’m ok with his character and  I do stan Lukagami because they are both Adrien and Marinette’s mirrors, therefore they are also arguably yin and yang like Adrien and Marinette.

Now this post is titled, “Thoughts on Luka and in general.” Meaning, there are some other things I wanted to include that don’t necessarily involve Luka’s character. 

1st being - As of the season 3 finale, I would like to state that no one is officially dating. Nothing official has happened. No one even kissed. 90% of Lukanette’s actions were essentially friendly, nothing too romantic. Marinette does not appear to really reciprocate Luka’s feelings (as backed by, “Luka as seen by Marinette,” video where she never mentions returning his feelings). Also, Adrigami didn’t officially happen either. Although a kiss was attempted, it did in fact fail on Adrien’s end. Some kids sat next to each other, hung out  and ate ice cream which normally doesn’t suggest that people are dating. If anything at all romantic happened in the very end of the finale, it’s that the two pairs are in the, “testing the waters,” phase at best. No more no less, in my opinion.

Remember: The theme of the finale was, “You don’t always get what you want.” That doesn’t just apply to Adrien, Marinette and especially the fandom. It also applies to Kagami, Luka, Chloe, Hawkmoth, Mayra and hell, even Andre lol.

Let’s be honest, we’re not even guaranteed to pick up where we left off in the season 3 finale when season 4 starts.

2nd thing - Now that the peacock miraculous is fixed, I will be shocked if we don’t see the butterfly and peacock miraculous unified, and whatever fresh hell that will bring lol.

Third thing - The kiss in season 2 finale was not just friendly unless when a friend kisses you on the cheek, you look at them like this...

To which I must ask....are they just a friend lmao? (Lol sorry, don't @ me, trying to make a MLB pun....)

4th  thing - I really don’t know which love square ship will be primary in season 4. Like, Adrien still loves Ladybug, obviously, and always will but seems to be taking a break from pursuing her romantically. It is also made crystal clear via a forgotten confession in, “Chat Blanc,” and through increasingly prominent heart eyes from Adrien that his, “more than friends,” feelings for Marinette are growing so much and so fast that they’re quickly reaching the point for him to no longer be able to ignore it. So Adrien, “changing his target,” will not shift to Kagami, rather it will shift to Marinette. I mean, there was no mention of Adrigami vs. Adrinette having a decided victor in season 4 like Lukanette vs. Adrinette, which leads me to think they will not only end first, but also end pretty early on in the season if the ship takes off officially at all, which is still unknown. Next, we have Marinette who is in a more complicated position. She believes that she cannot love Chat due to thinking, for what she knows to be some outrageous reason that she refuses to look into, “will end the world.” She is also trying to move on from Adrien, who obviously she will also never get over. So for Marinette it’s trickier because she feels like she can’t have either, while Adrien seems to get a simple shift in “targets.” 

So how this love square business is going to play out in season 4 is kind of up in the air for me. Marichat is a possible route, where Adrien is pining for Marinette as Chat and Marinette is pining for Chat (while believing they can’t be together) however that makes it seem less likely. It could also be Adrinette, which I feel might be the most sensible route, because Adrien pining for Marinette after finally coming to terms with his feelings for her, and Marinette I guess then deciding to give them a shot romantically assuming Adrien confesses, otherwise if she is still trying to move on without knowing Adriens feelings for her, then I don’t know how well that would work. Ladrien I guess could work, like an unrequited love type deal although I don’t know how likely that is to happen given both main character’s head spaces. Ladynoir I expect, at least for most of the season, to be mostly platonic temporarily. Ladynoir, in my opinion, will probably be the last corner of the love square to be resolved, which I think will take place in the movie after season 4. So, yeah.....more than likely to be played out either via Marichat or Adrinette in my opinion.

That’s all I have to talk about for now....I have just been kind of sitting on those thoughts for a while. Now I will include the links as mentioned earlier:

Link 1) https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/190128222840/just-my-opinion

Link 2) https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/190054338050/uh-ohi-used-my-brain-againget-ready-lol

Link 3) https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/189482028990/just-a-thought-there-are-spoilers-in-case

Link 4) https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/189856458390/alright-sorry-but-im-gonna-be-salty-real

Sorry this was lengthy, but believe me, this is way better than what this post would have been originally lol. I’m still so tired after all that though...oh well. Worth it I guess.

Have a miraculous day and thank you for your patience! 

[castycasty]

Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp and Tiktok on hot sit, see latest apps racing to overtake them.

CastyCas

Tumblr

Tumblr, also spelt Tumbir and pronounced Tumbler is a microblogging social networking site founded in 2007 by an Americaan computer programmer David Karp.l

Bloggers in Tumbir can follow fellow bloggers, they can make posts, comment, reblog and start conversations, like other people's posts or comments, upload texts, images, videos, quotes and links as well as start a group chat. Art works, personal thoughts, original GIFs, edited remix of celebraties can also be shared on Tumbir.

A Tumbir user can link posts with twitter and facebook, they can also tag other tumbir users as well as privately chat with other Tumbir users one-on-one.You can just be an onlookers watching and reading what others are writing, saying and doing without qualms, if you are the shy type like me.

Tumbir says it is a place where users interests connect the user with and to his or her people, Tumbir touts itself as a place for freedom of expression,where users can say whatever and however using it's queuing tabs to say it whenever.

The beauty of Tumbir is that since December 17th 2018, Adult content is prohibited, although not completely as LGBTQ contents is known to be promoted and protected by the platform, just like Facebook.

Tumbir is available in Android and windows.It also allows you to chat secretly using inbox features. Group chats, story boards, Queuing and dashboard are some of the unique features of Tumbir with which it intend to outshine facebook.

Users interests are shared and respected in Tumbir hence serving as a foster home to many, as it allows them to express their individuality and to be who they really are and what they really want to be.

Tumbir allows it users to like and stay connected with stuff that matters to them, with Tumbir, you can express youraelf, be yourself, connect with your people and join millions of communities across millions of hashtags.

Currently, Tumbir has 167 million users worldwide, it has about 441 employees, it headquaters is located in New York City.

Tumbir has about 500 millions blogs, 500 million monthly visitors, 172 billion posts and about 21 million daily posts. Tumbir is 12Mb app, making it a non space consuming app.

Yahoo bought it in 2013, at 1.1 billion dollars, it was later sold to Automatic at about 300 million dollars due to decline in advertisements revenues.

Promoters of Tumbir hope that one day Tumbir and not Facebook will be the talk of the town.

 Parler

Parler is a U.S based news based, micro blogging social networking service app which was launched in August 2018 by its founder John Matze.

It is being ardently promoted by political conservatives in America who tout it as alternative to Twitter which they believe is strifling free speech.

Parler is multilingual just like it's arch rival Twitter, it has it's headquarters situated in Henderson, Nevada US.

Parler currently has about 5 million users world wide, and has been downloaded over 1 million times on the Google play store, it has been touted as the fasted growing microblogging site of 2020.

The promoters of Parler say parler is unique in the sense that it's a commenting platform that's not biased, promotes free speech and solidly focused on protecting users right.

They say that parler enables its users create their own community and enjoy contents and news in real time while applying moderation tools to filter contents, they say it empowers users to control their social media experience and be a verified member of the community.

Leon Rife, a parler user wrote this about parler on the internet;"Super easy to use, whipped right through registration page, so i can't understand how others seems to be having a problem with it. I've been using this app for about a month, as well as Twitter and really enjoy parler as the superior app for content and expression...great app and great platform.

Another parler user, Tom lane said the app is wonderful for open self expression, "if you're looking for a Twitter alternative, this is it..."

The oops about the app especially for Nigerian users is that unlike Twitter, Parler requires your valid means of identification for you to be verified, unverified users may have their experience limited as people who don't like what you posted or commented can label you as a robot which may earn you some unpalatable repercussions.

Can parler displace or even stand neck to neck with Twitter? Only time shall tell

Telegram

Telegram was the massaging app that forced WhatsApp to go into end to end encryption, because that's exactly what telegram say it is all about.

Telegram says it is fast, synconizable, unlimited in the amount of data users can upload, download or send. They say they are secure, powerful,reliable,fun filled, simple in use and accessibility, respects users privacy as well as enables secret chats which deletes itself immediately after sending and after reading by the reciever.

Telegram doesn't accept advert and doesn't advertise itself anywhere, despite that, it has 500 million downloads as against whatsapp's 5 billion downloads on the Google play store. it is a 22.92 Mb app as against whatsapp's 23.81 Mb, people prefer smaller apps to larger ones as they strive to conserve space, hence, telegram's increasing popularity.Critics say that telegram's strict encryption fuels and supports the spread of terrorism.

It was developed in 2013 by Russian brothers Nikolai Durov, Pavel Durov who is the chief executive officer CEO, and an entrepreneur Axel Neff.

Telegram has it's legal headquaters in London UK and its operational headquarters in United Arab Emirates.

Telegram has about 400 staff, about 400 million active users. It is presently in the top ten of the most downloaded app of apple and Google app stores.

This massaging app enables users to securely connect with family, classmates, co workers and others. It is a cloud based instant massaging, video telephony, Voice over internet service app which enables fast and secure usage.

Remember that Telegram has never advertised itself anywhere, all its users come after recommendations by users who are mesmerized by its strong principles and quality features.

It's available on Android, IOS, Windows phone, Windows computers, Mac Os, GNU/Linus platforms, in almost all the countries of the world and accessible in 15 different languages.

Telegram was Instrumental in the recent anti government uprising in Iran.

Triller

Triller is owned by the owner of Facebook Mark Zuckerberg, it was founded on December 5th,2015, but was retooled, reactivated, reinvigorated and updated on August 5th 2020, in what analysts see as an attempt to rival tiktok.

Triller is a video creation application where an Android phone owner who downloads the app can produce own music videos using the songs that are available in the music library. Triller is a video creation app which also works as a social media platform in various ways.

Thanks to the current situation of tiktok in the face of US president Trump's threat of banning it, Triller is blazing the trails in the hope of catching up with tiktok and even overtaking it.

Triller says it is not seeking to rival tiktok, afterall it is older than tiktok, as it was founded in 2015 while tiktok was founded in 2017, instead it sees itself as the "adult version of tiktok", matured tiktok so to say.

It is available on Android's Google play store, it is 43.93 Mb app as against 58.98Mb making it a darling of users with low end smartphone.

Triller has 120 million downloads as against tiktok's 1 billion downloads, but it's known to have a growth than tiktok.

Trump campaign, snoop Doggy, Lil Wayne, Alicia Keys, Eminem and other celebrators have opened triller accounts as triller continuous to cash in on tiktok's China connection backlash.

Promoters of Triller say that Triller enables users to show off their unique talents.

If you know tiktok and you know Triller, if you see Tiktok you see Triller because Trillion is a copycat with advanced modifications. It remain whether American's Triller can beat China's Tiktok in China's home field of copycating.

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀 𝐑𝐏 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓 / 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat. Long post!

MUN NAME: Bambi / Eden     AGE: 18       CONTACT: IM, Ask, Discord (search discord up on my blog)

CHARACTER(S): a shit ton

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Dragon Age, rdr2, assassin’s creed, star wars (sorta??)

FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  Modern verse, r.dr2, da, skyrim (haven’t touched my bio for it for a while so I may have to touch it up a bit) and that’s pretty much it for any au verse. They’re just crossover verses.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / SCIENCE FICTION / HORROR / WESTERN ( my brand ) / ROMANCE / THRILLER / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / EROTIC / CRIME / MYTHOLOGY / CLASSIC / HISTORY (my 2nd brand) / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / ANCIENT / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / SPORT / MUSIC / SCIENCE / FIGHTS / ANGST / SMUT / DRAMA / ETC.  ( I’m open to most things, it just depends on plot & muse )

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: ONE-LINER (it happens but I tend to not favor it) / 1 PARA / 2 PARA / 3+ PARA / NOVELLA. / ALL

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES / NO / OCCASIONALLY   - only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / CASUAL / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. / ALL

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. 

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ WEEKS / MONTHS / YEARS. / DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY

I’M OKAY INTERACTING WITH: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / A RELATIVE OF MY CHARACTER (AN OC) / DUPLICATES / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / SELF-INSERTS / PEOPLE WITH NO AU VERSE FOR MY FANDOM (really depends on if you have oen in mind and we discussed it, it’s just not posted) / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. ( varies, but overall I tend to post more ooc? )

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING:  im me or talk to me over discord

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: Not too much? I’d like for there to be a plot in mind, but I can understand if that’s not the case. I’ve had instances where I want to interact with a character, but have absolutely no idea in mind. Usually sendign in an ask meme can help in that regard.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  I strive to not be one-sided myself, but I do have instances where I can’t think of anything. I’m not sure? Maybe ask the other person if they’re into it or if something else is at play (dealign with real life problems and it just affects their mood voerall).

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  I always try to give ideas of my own if I have any. Coming to a equally agreed, general idea is fine. I’ve had instances where I was on both sides of this, but I always try to add input and be equal with the other person.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - AND WHY?: Sometimes I don’t notice it, but sometimes I do. Generally, I like to know, but I understand if someone doesn’t wan tto reach out. Just at least try to let me know and we’re fine. 

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?:  It depends really. Sometimes I just don’t have muse for a thread, or an instance where I have dropped a muse entirely. Sometimes it can be timing, but that’s rarely the issue. Most of the time it’s just I can’t think of anything and I feel like it hasn’t really gone anywhere? I have stuff in my queue for a while, so soemtimes it appears that way until it’s posted and I’m sorry about that.

WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. ( I do have instances where I was forgetful and I haven’t told my partner int he apst adn I’m sorry about that. )

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO. - AND WHY?: I don’t need to be tlaked every day, but stronger friendships ( ooc & ic ) are formed when I talk to a person. It doesn’t need to be often, but it helps me understand your chaarcter and your approach. With that, I can come up with ideas and understand you rmuse more. I understand if people aren’t fond of ooc chatting, that’s completely understandable to me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: Criticsm is a good way to grow. Criticsm is different from completely bashing a perosn’s portrayal and not giving any pointers (ex: “your portrayal sucks.”). Or even for a person. If you feel like I am portraying something wrong, like depression or something similar, let me know. If you feel like Lydia’s adhd isn’t properly portrayed, let me know. 

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: All of my muses are written and taken an interest in for different reasons, sometimes I don’t even know why I decided to write them. I roleplay because I love exploring different characters and dyanamics and it’s easier for me to write like this than forming my own story. But a goal in mind? Be a good rp partner I guess? Or at least try to make things interesting and try my best to portray my characters correctly or in an intruiging manner. 

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  Varies on muse. I have different plots in my wishlist tag: ( wishlist ). 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   Potential triggering content ahead. Rape, noncon, abuse, incest, drug use -not alcohol- ( lyrium I can write fine, it’s just the realistic stuff I can’t do. ), inappropiate under age stuff. Themes where I write a stalker. Sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and racism will never be mentioned by any of my characters. I won’t write smut probably ever, so themes with that I tend to not write. Very likely more, I just can’t think of anything. Within dragon age, I do have a characetr ( Sera ) who will refer to elves as elfy-elves and be pretty anti-elf, which can be triggering to others. Also, animal abuse or gore of any kind.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: I can’t work with starters that don’t really have any dialogue (handing something over with nothing vocally said is fine, but when someone is just sitting there, that’s harder to work with unless somethign is plotted). Generally, I like outside circumstances to be explained (locaiton, where in a game/setting this might be occuring, etc), I really like when dialogue is added and body landguage is explained/noted.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  Honestly? it varies. I tend to really be into deep, complex characters or characters that appear can be sterred in that direction with more added. Bubbly, energetic characters, fighters (typically female). Quick witted or flirty characters & mysterious types. 

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  I hate using the term but mary-sue/gary-sue. I hate saying that, but if a character has no flaws, I won’t be interested. Or characters that seem to just be placed there with no development. 

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I try to add as much effort, or at least a lot of effort, in replies & interaction. I am very open-minded and when I get passionate about soemthing, you can really tell. I am easy-going, so feel free to tell me if you want to drop a thread or have a concern. I tend to work well of other’s people’s ideas, usually able to add my own.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I am slow and my queue tends to be slow since I try not to overhwelm myself and stress myself out to the heavens. I try to reach out, but sometimes I just can’t think of anything to say. My muse can be very flickle at times, so replies to stuff can vary. My msue tends to be more for ask memes than replies at times. 

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. 

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. 

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN, FADE TO BLACK?: YES / NO.

WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?:

ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  all of it

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO 

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. ( I love ships, but I am selective with it and require chemistry -unless I know your muse and you occ super, super well-. It’s nice but it isn’t he full focus of this blog. I want to explore my characters and witness other people’s characters and their development. )

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / SINGLE-SHIP ( Jacob ) / DUAL-SHIP  —  MULTIVERSE / SINGLEVERSE.

WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: Varies on muse, but for my rdr2 characters I’ve been really wanting a sorta of “outside” character where they aren’t directly involved in the gang, but they are in a relationship with oen of their members. Where my muse,w hose in the gang, will tell you rmuse about it and the whole aftermath of everything. Where their partner will understand to an extent, but try to undestand? if that makes sense? I also want enemies to work on a job/project together and deal with that. But this all also varies on muse.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  ( I find it easier to write to assume people knwo each other, but an immediate friendship isn’t required. Like my muse may know yours or hear about yours, but they haven’t directly met you before ). 

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: I have a large amount of different muses, but all of my muses all bring something new to the table. Want a guy who seems nice, but can be an asshole with a flick of a dime, who has a secret betrayal plot hidden behind his back? Pick Robert. Want a guy who’s humurous but seems to be hiding under a fake persona? Pick Charley. Want a female assassin who’s very talented anr professional in her work to a fault with her work-alcoholic ways? Pick Evie. Want a sweet and caring character with a heart of gold and will give you advice and comfort? Pick Cassie It depends on the plot, too, but I try my best to add as much to reply to to another. If you ever want more added, tell me! I could give multiple plots, so it’s really hard to put something down.

WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  If someone isn’t interested or outwardly hateful of my muse without a valid reason when starting to interact. Beign enemies is fine, but maybe we could write how it became that way? This really varies, so don’t let this steer you away. Just give me something to work with, brign soemthing to the tbale, and I’m usually fine.

WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, WHAT IS THEIR GOAL?:  Varies on muse. Robert: fame/recognition, a legend made out of him. Charley: just to live life happy? He wants to be okay money-wise. Evie: to take down the Templars & help the people of London, not fail and always be successful and outwit her foes. Cassie: everyone around her happy. Sean: His gang to be successful, btu also be sucessful himself, he wants to be admired as well.

WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  Just using the same muses lmao. Robert: Someone who just listens to him and isn’t quick to make fun of him. Charley: If they have a sense of humor and someone he can stand, he’s pretty much fine tbh. Evie: If they can give her any information or aid with her cause. Cassie: How they are feeling. If they let her just listen and seem more open than closed off. Very personality-based. Sean: soemtimes looks, but mostly if they have a similar personality as him.

WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  Evie: devotion, kind spriit, efficiency, loyalty. Robert: willingness and empathy despite having little himself. Charley: Honesty. Cassie: Consistency. Sean: reliability. 

WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  generally all of them like books (except Sean), events around them, their interests.

WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  For half of them, anything mundane or boring. Anything that isn’t relating to anything that’s spoken around / surrounds them.

DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  Robert & Charley (more Robert) witnessed a murder, Robert actually doing that act. Cassie: hearing about the violent nature of her father’s death. Sean: the things he went through with the bounty hunters.

WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  A gunshot or anything that could overpower them.

IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  Sean: rich people, Scots for some reason, English people sometimes. When someone disagrees with him on soemthing he is passionate about. Pronouncing and Irish word wrong. O’Driscolls & anyone that’s an enemy of the gang. Evie: Templars, Starrick & Lucy Thorne. People who lie or misled her or others. Injustice. Robert: Someone makign fun of him tbh. Charley: People who don’t plan out anything or are really reckless.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO.    - BEST WAY TO APPROACH THEM?: Talk to them. Initiate a conversation. Pretty much that across the board. 

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: None of my muses are perfect. Some are worse than others, but generally msot of my muses will listen to you and usually be nice to you if you appraoch them well. All my muses are different from one another, so expect different results / reactions

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

TAGGED: stole it

 TAGGING: steal it and pelase tag me ! I want to see your results