#can't wait to go see this mural before i go to work!!

[tbaluver]

hello there ! firstly, i wanted to tell you that i genuinely love your writing bc of the amazing characterization of the lnds boys !!! i wanted to request smth myself <3 feel free to ignore this if it's smth not within your taste !

i just recently thought that it would be cute to have a reader with a disney princess-like voice singing lullabies ! it could be their child or someone they babysit ! you could do any of the lnds boys that react to this but personally i'd like to see zayne (mainly bc he'd probably see reader at the hospital's kids area doing this !) and sylus, please ! thank you for your writing, we adore it ! ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡

When They Hear You Singing A Lullaby- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: eeeee anonnie i'm so happy to hear you love my writings it always makes me day !! im always grateful and love your guys support for my silly writings ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) i hope this is alright and that you enjoy this anonnie ! and also this emoticon is so cute omg i'm going to use this often ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

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Xavier:

You thought he would be sound asleep when he was over at your place when you were babysitting one of your co-workers baby. The baby wasn't necessarily fussy at all with you but it started crying because it couldn't go to sleep. It woke Xavier up and he followed the sound of the crying down the hall until he overheard you singing a lullaby.

He would peek through the door to hear and watch you put the baby back to sleep. He watches in pure adoration, a soft smile spreading across his face. After you gently set the baby down, he approaches you slowly, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder. "You sang so beautifully," He whispers softly, careful not to disturb the baby. "Can you sing me to sleep next?"

"As if you need any help sleeping" You joked but you did it anyway. You sang a soft lullaby as he rested his head on your chest. He drifted off to sleep almost instantly, a soft smile on his face, before you could even finish the song

Zayne:

While waiting for Zayne to finish his shift at the hospital, you received a text from him apologizing for the delay; he needed to discuss an upcoming operation with his colleagues. You texted him to take his time and began exploring the familiar hospital halls. As you wandered, you found yourself in the children’s area, admiring the colorful murals that brighten the space. Your growing hunger led you in search of a vending machine, but instead, you encountered a crying familiar child patient. You remember this child when you collected their drawings for the charity event you and Zayne helped with.

You crouch down to meet eye level with the child asking if they needed any assistance or if they needed a nurse but they simply shook their head saying that they can't find the nurse and that they can't sleep. They tugged your arm and asked if you can tell them a story or sing them a lullaby and you were more than happy to help out.

After finishing his shift, Zayne looked for you in the work hallway, but it was empty. He texted you but got no response, so he followed your shared location. As he approached, he heard you singing a familiar children's lullaby. Peeking through the door, he saw your back turned as you sang. He didn't want to interrupt but wanted to hear the whole song for himself too, captivated by your delicate and graceful voice. He was literally melting on the spot as he heard you sing. A smile would slowly spreading across his lips.

He's heard you humming before, usually when your doing your work or when you were helping him out in the kitchen. You let your mind drift off just a little bit as you hummed some of your favorite melodies. He already knew you had a beautiful voice but every time he tried to comment on it, your cheeks would heat up in embarrassment.

Lost in thought, Zayne was startled when you both unexpected crossed paths. You jumped as you emerged from the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, worried that he had heard everything. He spoke first, "There is no reason to be flustered. I think you have a beautiful voice and it's certainly comforting. Whenever you are comfortable I would like to hear more of it."

Rafayel:

He was over at your house while you babysat one of your co-workers baby for the day. He asked if you needed any help when the baby started crying but you said it was okay as you ran off the go tend to the baby while he continued sketching on his sketchbook.

That's when he hears your voice. He sets aside his pencil and sketchbook, stopping his work to peek through the doorway. There, he watches you sing a lullaby while gently cradling the baby. He would think that your voice was beautiful and enchanting that seemed to effortlessly captivate all who hears it.

When you gently put the baby back down to it's bed, he'll be upset. Not literally. But upset that he hasn't heard you sing him a lullaby or ever heard you sing first or at all. He would pout and want you to sing him a lullaby immediately.

When you do, he falls asleep on your shoulder while he was sketching so when he wakes up he thinks your secretly full Leumurian because he hasn't heard a beautiful voice like that years ago.

Sylus:

While Sylus was away on business, you let him know that you were busy taking care of your coworker's baby at your shared home. To be prepared, you had Luke and Kieran on standby in case you needed a break. When the baby began to cry, you swiftly picked them up, cradling them and singing a soothing song. Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran lingered in the hallway, and one of them decided to record your sweet singing and send it to Sylus, giggling as they did so knowing that he would love this.

As night fell and your coworker came to collect their baby, Sylus arrived shortly afterward. “Two little crows mentioned you can sing, sweetie. Is that true?” A blush spread across your cheeks, realizing that the twins had set you up once again. "I wish I could have been there to hear it myself. A video is not the same to hearing your mesmerizing voice in person."

Although he finds it amusing and adorable, he would ask if you could sing him a song to help him unwind because the business he dealt with was stressful. He wouldn't pressure you to sing him a lullaby but he would reassure you that your voice was already one of his favorite sounds already and nothing would ruin that.

That seemed to ease your worries, and as you both settled into bed, you let him unwind. You sang the same lullaby to him that you’d sung to the baby. Your gentle voice was incredibly soothing, wrapping him in a warmth and coziness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite his usual trouble with sleep, your voice made his eyelids grow heavy, a contented smile spreading across his lips as he drifted off.

It was no surprise that he loved hearing you sing and you having this skill made him think that it made you more beautiful to him than you already were.

[wilwheaton]

favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

[dawnrina]

(004) — the mural.

YOU ARE READING: INTO MY WEB!

WARNINGS: NONE.

Taein nervously shuffled into the art room, glancing around at the familiar faces of her fellow art club members and a few representatives from the student council. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and anticipation as everyone awaited the meeting to start.

Minjeong, the ever-composed student council president, stood at the front of the room, meticulously organizing her notes. Taein couldn't help but notice her poised demeanor, a blend of seriousness and determination. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

"Alright, everyone, thank you for coming," Minjeong began, her voice commanding immediate attention. "As you all know, the cultural festival is fast approaching, and our goal is to make this year's event the best one yet."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, and Taein found herself nodding along despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

"To start, let's go over the main objectives for the festival," Minjeong continued. "We aim to create an inclusive, engaging experience that showcases the talents and diversity of our student body. Each task will have one member from the club and one from the council as leaders, who will then select their teams accordingly."

She began assigning roles, each met with a mix of enthusiasm and determination from the students. Taein tried to focus on the details, but her mind kept wandering to the uncertainty of her own role.

"Yeji and Aeri, you'll coordinate the performances and add your artistic touch to the decorations," Minjeong listed off, each name acknowledged with a nod. "Wonyoung and Jimin, you'll oversee logistics for the food stalls and help design them to be visually appealing. Seungkwan and Joshua, you'll handle promotional activities, creating eye-catching posters and flyers."

Finally, Minjeong looked up from her notes, her gaze sweeping across the room. "Now, for the mural," she announced, her voice neutral and serious. "The school has granted permission for us to paint a mural in the central courtyard as a permanent reminder of this year's festival."

Gasps of surprise and excitement filled the room. Taein's eyes widened, her heart pounding nervously. Could that really be her role?

"And," Minjeong continued, looking around, "I'll oversee the mural, with Choi Taein as the lead artist."

All eyes turned to Taein, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. The room buzzed with murmurs and curious glances, but all she could focus on was the realization that she would be working closely with Minjeong.

Yeji was the first to approach Taein with a bright smile. "I'm sure you'll do great, Taein! I can't wait to see what you create," she said enthusiastically, patting Taein's shoulder before leaving.

Seungkwan's eyes sparkled with excitement. "This is amazing!"

"You really are one lucky motherfucker," Yunjin added, still surprised by the roles assigned.

Seungkwan nudged her gently. "Remember what Ningning said about not having any regrets in your last school year," he whispered.

Taein managed a slight nod. She knew this was a chance she couldn't let slip away, no matter how nervous she felt.

Lost in thought, Taein didn't notice Minjeong approaching with a serious expression. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Taein. Let's make this mural something memorable."

Taein was taken aback by Minjeong's proximity and the directness of her statement. Her heart skipped a beat, anxiety and determination swirling inside her. She took a deep breath, recalling Ningning's advice. "Thank you," she replied softly, her voice steadier now.

Yunjin raised her brows in surprise, impressed that Taein not only stayed put but also managed to respond to Minjeong. Seungkwan draped an arm around Taein's shoulder, silently ensuring she wouldn't run at any moment.

Minjeong nodded, satisfied. "Great. Let's make the most of this festival."

TAGLIST ; @saysirhc @yjiminswallet @le3-r1n @thefckghost @brocoliisscared @roarrawrno @winieter

[n0tangeliccc]

I have an idea! NSFW Jealous possesive top creek x reader, the asian girls start drawing reader with other ppl and the ships became very famous around town, tweek n craig have no other option than fuck reader until she can't think straight bc they're jealous as hell and they need to prove that reader belongs to them 💏💏💏💏

You’re ours

Craig x Fem!Reader x Tweek

(EVERYONE IS 18+)

Warning: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (m! + f! receiving), cum swallowing (it’s implied), threesome, fingering, degradation (the tiniest bit of praise), slight edging (?), semi-public sex (idk other people can hear you), uh i think that’s everything i don’t know how to tag these things😵‍💫(some parts might sound ooc im sorry!!)

A/N: I didn’t expect y’all to love the Creek stuff but here you go my loves🤭 (also this was not proofread please tell me of any misspellings!!)

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There stood your two lovers, Tweek and Craig, their hands shaking in rage as they looked at the huge mural of you and their close friend Clyde together. Ever since you started hanging out those same girls who once got them together have been shipping you and Clyde together and this made Tweek and Craig absolutely furious. “AcK- Craig can you believe this?” Tweek’s mind was racing with panicked thoughts of you leaving him and Craig “W-what if she leaves us for him aHh! This is too much!!” “Calm down honey” Craig rubs Tweek’s back trying to calm him down before sighing “I knew we should’ve just been open and told everyone we’re in a poly relationship now look at this shit!” He face palmed mentally. Craig knew you were well known around South Park it would have been only a matter of time before you started getting shipped with someone he just wished it was with him and Tweek, I mean they were your boyfriends for fucks sake! “T-That was too much pressure!!” Tweek was practically about to pull his hair out. “Don’t worry I’ve been thinking of a way to make it know” Craig smirks and Tweek gives him a confused look “Don’t worry honey I’ll tell you all about my plan on the way, now come on I’m sure Y/N’s waiting for us at the coffee shop”

As they walk to the shop they couldn’t help but notice something that only fueled their anger and jealousy even more, Clyde. Craig’s whole body tensed up and his grip on Tweek’s hand tightened causing the blonde to turn and look at what was happening.

You had been cleaning a bit while waiting for your lovers to arrive when Clyde had walked in and struck up a conversation. You’re body leaned against the counter as you and Clyde spoke when suddenly you heard the cafe door slam open. “So then I- What the hell??” Clyde jumped as Craig and Tweek walked in “Oh hey guys what’s up?” His smile fading quickly as his friends glared at him “Okay?..Anyways Y/N-“ “AH!-Actually WE need to t-talk to her right now” Tweek cut him off ‘Weird’ you thought, you’d never seen them act like this before “Well we can go into the back office, I’ll be right back Clyde!” You waved as the guys dragged you away from him.

You could feel the tension in the air as you walked in turning to look at your boyfriends. “So…What’s going on guys?” You asked awkwardly “What’s going on?? Seriously Y/N don’t you see what’s being spread around??” Craig answered back angrily “All these people are convinced you’re with Clyde!!” The jealousy pumping through his veins as he pulled you towards him and Tweek “You’re ours and I think it’s time we let people know” he growled in you ear. “I-In here?” You questioned as he grabbed you and sat you on the desk “People will hear guys” Craig smirked “I’m sure you’d like that considering how much of a whore you’ve been lately, don’t you think Tweek?” Tweek chuckled and nodded in agreement “B-better they hear and know”

He kissed down your neck as Craig untied your apron and unbuttoned your work shirt. Both men began leaving trails of hickies down your neck and breast switching sides so Tweek was now in front of you he continued to kiss down your torso, Craig removed your bra and began teasing your tits making you whimper. Tweek unzipped your pants and pulled them down to around your ankles before beginning to kiss your inner thighs running his hands painfully close to your aching core “Tweek..” you whimpered again making both men laugh. “What’s w-wrong baby? Feeling needy?” Tweek looked up at you with a sly grin, you rarely got to see this overly dominant side of him but when you did god did it make you wet. “Please Tweek” “I don’t know Tweek I think she’s been to much of a slut to deserve it” Craig smirked giving your breast a soft squeeze making you groan “So fucking slutty, bet you’re soaked just from us teasing aren’t you?” You hear Tweek chuckle as he pulled down your panties “Oh s-she is Craig” his fingers hovered over your clit teasingly making you shiver in anticipation “F-fucking whore” Tweek growled before sticking two of his fingers into your wet folds. You gasped loudly as he began sliding them in and out of you rapidly “F-Fuck Tweek!!” You moaned loudly “So loud, though you didn’t want anyone to hear this you slut” Craig grinned smugly as he undid his pants “Time to get that pretty mouth of yours to work” he said as he pulled cock out from his pants “Come on bitch you know you want it” You laid back on the desk as Tweek continued to ravish your pussy and Craig tapped his cock on your cheek “Go on, suck it whore” You wasted no time getting to work giving his tip kitten licks as you stoked the rest of his length. “Fuck…good whore” Craig groaned as you began to slowly began to sick your head down his shaft. Tweek smirked and flattered his tongue against your clit teasingly before harshly sucking on it making you moan around Craig cock “Yeah j-just like that baby” he removed his fingers from inside you switching to his tongue, he lapped your juices rapidly making moan even louder as you felt yourself getting closer to cumming. “A-Are you close?” Tweek asked as he pulled away, his thumb circling your clit as you pulled away from Craig and nodded desperately. “Switch?” He asked Craig “Switch” he grinned mischievously as they exchanged spots with Craig between your legs and Tweek in front of you face now. You quickly began to stroke Tweek’s dick before bringing it to your mouth as Craig teased your entrance with his cock making you whimper around Tweek. “G-gah!” Tweek moaned as your mouth did wonders on his cock. Craig slid into your wet folds a low groan escaping his lips as he began slowly began to thrust into you “That’s it take it like a good slut” he cooed in your ear as his thrust began to speed up. You’re moans we’re sending chills up Tweek’s spine as you sucked him off, he grabbed onto your hair pushing himself deeper into your throat “F-fuck- close!!” You continued even faster as you hear his breath quicken “Ngh! Y/N!!” He let out one last high pitched groan before he came in your mouth holding your head down on his cock. Craig chuckled and began thrusting even faster and harder that before as he felt your walls clenching around him “That’s it whore, cum for us” His animalistic thrust sent you over the edge and you came hard screaming out in pleasure “F-fuck” Craig grunted as his thrust became sloppier and he pushed himself into you on last time before he came.

By the next day everyone knew of your relationship with Tweek and Craig. Not because you guys announced it out loud but because poor Clyde heard the whole thing from outside the office and told everyone.

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Longest oneshot I’ve written (why it took me so damn long😭) also the dirtiest oml😮‍💨

[my-corneroftheworld]

Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,2k

Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n, angst, afab reader

Ps. Thank you for all the support!!! I will try to release the chapters weekly from now on. :) As usual, I accept any constructive criticisms in the comments

Masterlist

Chapter 2

At first, I felt cold then I felt a searing pain in my head. When I opened my eyes I was greeted by strings of fluorescent lights hanging from a cave ceiling. Glow worms? I looked around seeing that I was in a tent-like structure made out of rope nets. As soon as I sat up, trying to regain any kind of information as to how I got here. Then it hit me. That man knocked me out! The nerve! Another pulse of that searing pain came over me. I hissed and brought my hand up to my head as a result. Gosh, it hurts. If I get a life-altering concussion then I am suing. Although I am not sure how you sue a possible undercover mutant agent.

I looked around and suddenly realized that I'm not in my swimsuit. In fact, I am in an intricately embroidered brown dress with green accents which means someone changed me whiles I was unconscious. Panic creeps up in me. What is going on?! Before I can think any further I hear a shy voice call out.

I quickly turn around and I see this light blue-skinned girl with a mask over her mouth. She called out again in what I would assume is her language. She walked closer to me and looked at me with her soft brown eyes and then at the bowl of fruits she was holding. She reached out and called once more.

"Is this for me?" I ask while motioning the food to me. She pushes the bowl to me once more. I hesitantly grab a yellow fruit and examine it. It may be poisonous but what can do I? I don't know where I am or if I can find my way home and I'm so hungry. I take a bite. It was tangy and sweet. I kinda liked it. She put the bowl next to me and said something then motioned towards the exit and began walking. I watched her until she stopped and looked at me.

"You want me to follow you?" I asked motioning toward the exit. She said something and waited so I followed her. The cave was gorgeous and surrounded by little vibrant pools of water. She walked me to a little cabin. Once there she opened the curtain entrance to the cabin and waited. Assuming she wanted me to go inside, I went in and she left.

The first thing I noticed was the murals on the walls. It was beautifully painted and upon further inspection, I realized it looked Mayan-inspired though I can't say I'm an expert. Come to think of it, his earrings and jewelry remind me a lot of the ones on these figures in the murals. I noticed a small table filled with more fruits, a bed, and baskets as well as a big ceramic vase. I looked at each of the murals and saw how they portrayed different stories. I was so invested that I nearly stepped foot in a bowl of paint. When I looked up at the mural in front of me, I saw a Mayan warrior fighting a big panther. It seems to be the latest in the collection.

"Do you like it?"

I knew that voice. I turned and saw him. He had more clothes than last time, wearing what seemed to be a shawl. "I do," I answered. "Though I wonder. Did you really kidnap me so that you can show off your room?" He chuckled a little. "No...no I have more important matters to discuss than paintings. Please sit." He motioned to the chair closest to me. I sat down.

"I have watched you for quite some time now." He hands me a glass, I accept it and hesitantly drink. Taste like some kind of tea. " I know of your frustrations with your line of work, constantly being pushed aside for a "quick buck" as you put it." He looked up at me and continued.

"I also know that the only thing that seems to calm you is the sea, the currents' pull is something you greatly appreciate. I believe this is our common interest." He takes a sip of his tea and I find my eyes lingering on his lips. "I fear the leaders of the surface are hoping to take my home's resources and my ally may not be willing to take the necessary actions to protect it. That's where you come in. If we can develop your powers more, it could be the asset we need to keep the leaders of your world from further plundering and polluting our seas."

Wait what does he mean by "leaders of the surface"? Are we not in a cave somewhere? I feel my heartbeat rising. We're underwater. How deep? As if on cue I realize that the nausea and discomfort I've been feeling were not from the hit but from under water pressure. "Who are you? And what is this place?" I ask. He leans back on this chair and takes a deep breath before answering.

"I go by many names. My people call me Auh Ku'kulkan but my enemies call me Namor... As for where we are" He stands up and walks to my side of the table till he's right next to me and staring me down. I kept eye contact. I wish I could say it was because of fear to look away but something was telling me that that was not the only reason. His eyes were drawing me in and I felt a need to follow. "We are in an underwater cave closest to my home, Talokan." He turns away and looks towards the murals. "We have stayed hidden for centuries. Away from those who seek to exploit us and what we have. But recent events have forced us to consider revealing ourselves." He begins to walk back to his seat. "Of course now that you know this I cannot let you leave regardless of your personal wishes." with that he sat down.

"What happens if I refuse to help you?" I asked.

"You will remain here till you die. If you try to escape you will be killed." He said bluntly and took a bite of one of the fruits by the table. My shoulders sank. Is this all real? A fish man and an underwater civilization at the brink of war with the world above and he's asking for me to choose between living as his soldier or imprisonment? This is too much to take in. Seeing my internal struggle he takes my hand in his. "I am not asking of anything that you will regret but I understand that you may need time to process the idea. I will give you a day." He calls out in another language and the blue-skinned woman comes in. They converse and then he turns to me and says.

"This is Zyanya. She will be your caretaker and show you where you will stay." He then motions for me to go which I do. Zyanya brings me back to the tent but this time it's covered in big tapestries so you can no longer see the worms from inside. I move towards the bed and begin to take off my jewelry. Reality starts to set in. How am I going to leave? Will I ever be able to see my friends again? I begin to tear up until finally, I break down and cry like I've never done before. I feel Zyanyas hand rubbing my back. Am I ever going to be free from this?

[moonlight-sonata99]

Con La Brisa

Namor x reader

Headcanons of Namor falling in love💕

Warnings: reader and namor being oblivious idiots, that's all

A/n: truthfully I haven't been feeling the best when it comes to my works or in general So sorry if this seems a bit OOC.

this really is based off con la brisa..I read a tumblr post explaining that the song was about his mother wanting him to see the beauty in the surface world so I thought of this hehe

If I'm being honest I don't see him falling in instantly (sorry) but I don't.

But instead, it's slow. But when he falls he falls hard.

And bonus points if you take active intrest in his culture, his kingdom.

When you are gone the king waits in his throne room awaiting the time that you will normally appear.

Speaking of surface dwellers, he's very hesitant and expects you to try to convince him that there not bad.

But you don't.

Your eyes admired the murals in front of you as your mind wandered about what namor had just told you.

'They only sought to destroy'

He had no love for the surface world.

The kings distain for the surface world,your world tugged at your heart. But...he had every reason to hate it. You knew that.

You cursed the people before you for their horrible actions.

"I.." you began as the king next to you turned his head to look at you.

"You have every reason to be mad. I can't defend what they did. Nor do I want to. " you admitted looking at namor,who looks at you with a unreadable expressions.

" but if can, may I show you something?" Your eyes examine every small detail of his face, as he stands in thought.

He's hesitant.

"There won't be anyone were we are going promise." You assure, placing a hand over your chest. As you see his shoulders lower.

"Of course."

Normally he would have refused, obviously knowing this could be a ploy to get him to like the surface.

But he likes you alot so he didn't refuse

As much as he liked you he didn't have much faith tbh

But...he did have a weird feelings about this trip of yours.

You tilted your head up to the sky as sky was littered with the tiny lights called stars, they twinkled as you admired them.Sitting sat on a grassy hill near the water awaiting Namor's arrival you felt the wind hit your skin and the smell of the sea filled your nose everytime you exhaled.

Standing up you slowly wandered near the water listening to it crash against the sand,

"I know your there." You announced placing your hands your hips as a head pops out halfway out the water.

"Are you really hiding from me?"You teased as namor stuck his head out of the water. "Of course not,I just like making you wait" he joked with a small chuckle as you shook your head.

"Rightt..but seriously cmon let's get going" you walk into the water next to him and stretch your arm out to him.

Namor gives you a little smile taking your hand as you two make your way out the water.

Sitting on the grassy hill on again you set your gaze onto namor as sit back down,

"Sit" you say patting the spot next to you,namor sits next to you and you turn your gaze to the horizon,

"What is it?"namor whispered next to you as you looked into the distance in a daze.

"Give it time.." you whispered, examining the sky.

He stays quiet for the time being trying to figure out your intention.

Slowly but surely rays of lights would peek out from the clouds and with a bit mit more time become more bolder.

Namor who was besides you started drifting off to sleep, He felt your hands shaking him awake. Namor shook himself awake as he sat up to meet your gaze.

"Look...you said once that you gave your people the sun, so..I thought maybe..I'd give you the sun." You stated smiling at him as you turned your gaze to the distance and namor followed your gaze to see a light beginning to peak through the horizon.

He squinted his eyes not used to the bright light and covered his eyes looking at the view behind his hand.

The sun began to makes it way out of its sleep and began to show its rays.

Namor,enamored with how the sun shined on the water muttered "its beautiful."

"It is." You whispered back admiring the man next to you.

"It really is..."

[quigonswife8]

Not real: Namor x reader

When a nightmare is so real you can't tell if you're even awake

Warnings: nightmare

-----------

"K''uk'ulkan."

He sits in the mural room, brush in his right hand. Though he doesn't seem to be moving, and remains sitting there holding the paintbrush. Perhaps he could be deep in thought?

"My king?"

His hand remains leviated in the air. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. Only stays in the same position. "Namor." in hopes it will grab his atttention. You stop behind him, deciding to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?-"

He turns around so suddenly that you feel like you get whiplash. Soon, though, your eyes widen "Your face..." You can describe the fear you feel, but not what he looks like. It's hard to describe what he looks like. His face has morphed into something else, but instead of running, you're frozen in fear.

The only thing you can do is say "K'uk'ulkan..." that fear doubling when he suddenly lunges at you and you scream.

- Your scream wakes you up, and the pitch blackness of the room greets you but rather than feel comforted by the reminder that you are awake, it only makes things worse.

"No!"

The tears fall down your cheeks quick like a river. You can barely hear when K'uk'u'lkan enters the room, your name falling off his tongue. A millon thoughts swarm your mind, it's hard to ground yourself. It's hard to think.

That nightmare felt so real, it can't be ever...no, it isn't. It isn't over, and you realise that. "(y/n)." He sits down on the bed, placing his hands on your shoulders. Lowering his head to meet your eyes "(y/n)."

Blinking away tears you vaguely make his face out. The face of the man who's face had just been morphed into something so horrifying that you look away. "…no…"

"It was just a nightmare." he reassures, giving your shoulders a soft squeeze. "I'm here-"

"No." you reply, pushing his hands away, and standing up. Backing away from hi, watching as he furrows his brows in confusion. He looks so much like your partner it's scary. "You're not him…"

"What do you mean…?"

"This is just another part of my nightmare…" you back away until your back hits the wall.

"…this isn't real." and now it all makes sense to him. Namor slowly raises from the bed but he doesn't go over to you, not wanting to freak you out. Instead he tries to think of a way to make you see that you are in fact awake…but how?

"In Yakunaj (my love)." The beating of your heart remains loud in your ears- wrapping your arms around yourself, you look at him waiting for his face to morph into how it was before. You note how he doesn't walk up to you and that's kind of comforting if you're being honest.

"Teen [it's me]."

"No it's not. I told you…" breathing uneven, shaking, followed by another sigh falling from your lips. "…this is…"

"What if I could prove to you that you are awake?

If he could I'd be surprised "…how?" Namor isn't fully sure of that at the moment, as he's still trying to figure that part out. "I…Ma' táan in seguro [I am not sure]." He has never had to deal with something like this before so it's hard to know what to do.

He's silent for a minute or so trying to come up with something. Anything. He just wants you to know that this is real, that he's there, and everything will be alright. Judging by how you are, your nightmare was really bad, and that breaks his heart.

"(y/n)..."

...it clicks, and you can tell he's come up with something. Still you don't move, you remain standing there watching. Waiting. He brings his hands up, his eyes moving from then to you, and then he opens his mouth.

"How many fingers are on my right hand?"

Of course. This is perfect. If you want to tell that you're awake then you can check if you have the right amount of fingers, or toes, and if you have the right amount you're awake. You have used this trick before and it's worked...but this is a nightmare. Will that still work?

Focusing in- well trying your best to- on his fingers, you start counting. "1..." you mutter, "2." you continue until you get to the fifth. He has five fingers on his left hand. "Good job." he looks at his right hand, "how many do I have on this one?".

Like before you begin counting the fingers on his right. Slowly, only focusing on his hand, and when you get to his fifth you say "five" out loud. "See? There are five, in yakunaj. This is real." looking away from his hands to instead look at him, tears start welling in your eyes.

"...real?"

"Real." he assures you, nodding. "This is real. Tene' real [I am real]." Namor tests the waters by taking a step forward. He waits for you to back away but you don't. You watch his movements, but unlike before, you aren't scared of him.

Now that you know that you are awake and this isn't still a nightmare. If it was then something else would have happened, but this is real, and thanks to K'uk'ulkan, it confirms that. "K'uk'ulkan..." his name on your tongue feeling real and not fake, like how it would be if you were asleep. You take a step forward so slowly, "...you..." "I am here, in yakunaj."

"You're here." unwrapping your arms from your body to instead let them fall by your side. "...it's you." He wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and you want to do the same, but you can't move. All you can do is stand there in tears, watching as he stares at you with tears in his eyes.

"(y/n)..."

"Can you please hold me..?" you mutter hoping that he'll hear you despite how soft your voice is. "Of course." he replies, and you nod at him, thankful.

Namor walks over to you reaching you after a few seconds, and he places his hands on your arms first making sure this is what you want. When you nod he slips his arms around you, pulling you to his chest- you practically collapse in his arms only being held up because of K'uk'ulkan.

You don't cry, you're too exhausted for that. Instead you just stand there, letting your partner hold you. You need this after that nightmare.

"It's okay..." he mutters, pressing a kiss to your head and you feel like you're going to melt. "I'm here." he's said this a lot but he wants you to know that he is. "I am not going anywhere." and he presses another kiss to your head, lingering with it this time.

When he pulls away he leans his head on top of yours, which is something that he often does, like how he'll touch your forehead with his, as he continues to hold you.

[keymintt]

Not sure if this has been asked before but, how did you start doing professional work for traffic cabinets? Was there some sort of job fair or exhibit that you advertised your art at and the city decides "this guy is really good, let's get his art in public"?

OKAY so the thing with public art is it's all local and every city kinda does it differently, but so far in my career all of the public art stuff i've done has been application-based

this got long so i'll go into details about what the searching/application process looks like under the cut but tldr: a big part of finding work like this is knowing where to look for local opportunities and submitting applications

generally the cities/towns/whatever will put out a call for artists (also sometimes called a request for qualifications or RFQ) that's basically like "hey we need some artists to do this, this is how much we'll pay you and the details for the project" and from there they'll link a form (or sometimes give you an email address) to apply to where you submit stuff like your contact info, resume/portfolio, sometimes references, and usually a letter of interest on the project

because i submit applications to things pretty regularly, i'm usually good about keeping track of what i use to apply to things—this includes what i've written for applications and stuff like image descriptions—so when I apply to new things it's a lot of copypasting and editing things to explain how i'm a fit for the specific project yadda yadda it's cover letters. it's basically cover letters. pain and agony

in terms of finding the applications, i'm signed up for several local newsletters and arts organizations, but i also check sites like the az commission of the arts (bc i'm az-based) for their updated list of opportunities pretty regularly, as well as searching for stuff like [city] arts and culture and poking around the .gov sites to see if they have an arts opportunities page. in all honesty a pretty big component of finding this work is knowing where to look, and unfortunately if you're doing public art a) it's not always listed on social media b) the best places to look/start are local, and that differs for everyone so i can't say like "oh look here and you'll find something"

once you apply it usually takes awhile to hear back (they usually give you a timeline on the initial application of how long it takes to review all the applications), but i've found people in these fields are good about letting you know when you didn't get something so you can move on with your life lol. atm i'm waiting to hear back from....over five things so i'm kind of always doing this "applying to projects while i'm working on other projects" song and dance which is honestly just...kind of the freelance artist experience?

i feel the need to mention that public art stuff like this consists of about...2/5 of my yearly income...? i'm not solely making a living off of doing these things bc i also usually have teaching and ttrpg illustration stuff in the mix BUT there are artists who can and do make a living off public art and murals and whatnot. i simply cannot resist the urge to stick my finger into any pie i'm even remotely qualified for

working with public art stuff is also that same thing with a lot of fields where once you get some sort of experience, it's easier to get more jobs, BUT as an artist your portfolio can do a lot of speaking for you, even if you don't have experience with public art specifically. take my traffic boxes for example: i've done three of them now and have a fourth lined up, i know that if there's an application for one i have the exact experience they're looking for and will in all likelihood be one of the selected artists at this point. however with my very first one, i obviously didn't have a traffic box in my portfolio so i included a digitally illustrated city banner i designed, several other digital illustrations of mine (bc they wanted a digital artist), and a mural i had painted on a 3d object (to demonstrate i could design with 3d forms in mind), and together these things all helped my credibility as someone who could do this project. as much as i loathe writing letters of interest these are also good places to elaborate on how your portfolio can connect to the project

also with public art starting local is also your best bet at first (not to say you can't land other opportunities right off the bat though), bc people like their artists to know the local scene. i have the experience to back me up more nowadays, but when i was first applying to things you bet your ass i was all like 'i love it here and want to give art back to my local community bc i'm an artist and i'm fresh out of college yaaaaayyyy' you don't have to mean this when you say it, but they don't have to know

thank you for the ask !! and best of luck with any of your potential artistic endeavors (to anyone reading this)!! feel free to ask any more questions, i'm happy to elaborate on anythin btw for anyone :>

[kotamagic]

Another loaded episode of Lore Olympus, so let's dive in...

Let's start with Aphrodite. Understandably, she's upset that Eros and Psyche are missing. Obviously, wannabe-king Apollo isn't going to broadcast that, but that doesn't mean folks aren't going to notice that three gods are now missing after Zeus went into a coma.

(Is that the Horrible Goose running amok in the background?)

Why the fuck do you want Eros' arrows, SPECIFICALLY the ones for true love? They don't work the way that you think that they do!

Look at what happened with the truth arrow. Anyone looking at Apollo when that thing hit saw the truth... the horrible, nasty truth about what he did. (I believe it was Daphne? That was what led to her getting "treed.")

If Apollo thinks a true love arrow is going to make Persephone fall in love with him (and thus, give him access to her fertility goddess powers) then he's in for a rude surprise. If anything, she'll lend her powers to Hades so that they can kick Apollo's ass together like a power couple!

Or, maybe he has something worse in mind? Let's hope not.

Shit is still going down in the Mortal Realm. Apollo doesn't waste a moment blaming Persephone for it on TV.

Hey fucknugget, unless I'm mistaken, sun gods/goddesses were banned from the Underworld LONG before Hades and Persephone were even a thing. And Persephone made the right decision escaping to the Underworld to get away from your r*pey ass. Choke on a long, splintery battering ram!

Even in the physical safety of the Underworld, Apollo still has the power to harm with his words. It's bad enough that Persephone is guilt-wracked by her rearranged powers causing havoc, but hearing Apollo's gaslighting on the TV is only making it worse

The title of this chapter is "Wheat", and we sure are seeing a lot of it here with Persephone. That mural on the wall seems to be watching her.

We're pretty certain that Persephone was originally supposed to take over for Demeter at some point. Well, that's not happening. The wheat imagery here seems to represent what was planned to happen. As it closes in more and more around her, there's the sense of Persephone being smothered by the old plans for her.

On the other hand, I can't help but wonder if, in some way, the mural is trying to point her in a particular direction. Wheat can be grown, harvested, and stored; this is what the mortals need to know and learn to survive the (now) long winters.

We've been watching Persephone progressively sweating more and more throughout this chapter. While she's talking to this nymph, her vision gets blurry until she passes out.

She's running a fever and is put on bed rest immediately. There could be so many things causing this that it's hard to nail it down to just one.

The situation with the Mortal Realm

Her wonky powers

Apollo gaslighting her on tv

Maybe it's Kronos

Whatever the case, she is not doing well at the moment.

While she's in bed, Demeter comes to see her. Persephone voices her worries to her mother, and Demeter seems to actively listen.

"I barely know anything about myself..."

The cliffhanger is Demeter saying "Wait..."

Will this turn into an honest heart-to-heart conversation? Will important secrets get revealed? Will Apollo get shot in the ass with a truth arrow on live TV? (GAWD, I hope so!)

Anyway, thanks for coming to my LO post!

[burning-sol]

Hey hi hello, I was in the Your Apotheosis Zine!

Print & Merchandise // PDF Download

The following is the work I contributed.

Under the cut is a piece of written work I contributed.

A Trick of the Light

..the fabric of reality parted like a shimmering curtain, revealing a play of destruction. Exandroth marched forward with purpose, eyes scanning the animated murals either side of his path - a story of entities birthed from stardust being slaughtered by their kin forged in hellfire, assuring each other their mutual destruction in a fight for dominion over the realm. Exandroth climbed the stairs of a golden temple, not as a champion ascending to godhood, as she had once imagined, but as a mere observer, and another Exandroth stared back. Rumi and Thanatos had hurried to either side of Exandroth, tailing a muscular man, distinct from the other entities of the realm but not a stranger to it. Elotl spoke out, fists clenched and trembling.

“Zuen, what is the meaning of this? Why do our people attack us, surely you saw this-!”

“It’s simple Elotl, these aren’t our people. They’re those who turned their backs on us so long ago..heh... And those who we turned our back on in turn…”

Elotl cursed, “Dammit…”

“Exandroth, you will pay for this.” Elotl brandished his weapon, storming back out. Rumi and Thanatos parted to let the late God through, but Exandroth was bound to the floor and to the ceiling, restrained; Elotl bumped its shoulder on the way out, and the side-eye that the god gave the traitor was tangible.  

Zuen laughed to himself, strolling up to the caged angel. “Well Exandroth… Looks like everything’s going according to plan. It’s finally time. I trust you've found a suitable host.” They unlocked the angel’s chains, letting them unravel and fall away, and Exandroth had a returned sense of control. “Good luck.”

The exalted angel’s wings stretched out, and with a few flaps of its wings it took flight. It pierced the outer bounds of the vision, blinding the god slayers with transcendental light, leaving them squinting as their eyes adjusted to the newly revealed surroundings.

"Heh, you know I was tired of waiting... Exandroth."

"ZUEN."

"What took you so long? I've been waiting for a while. What has it been, a year now?”

"Exandroth you... You've been working with Zuen this whole time..?" Rumi breathed out.

"WHAT?"

"Of course he has, didn't it tell you?" The smugness of Zuen’s cadence had Exandroth furrowing its brow.

"No, he didn't.."

"WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. RUMI?"

"Exandroth, you said we could trust you..."

"Did he now?"

By now, Exandroth was more than irked by Zuen. “YOU *CAN* TRUST ME, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WE’RE STILL GONNA KILL THE FUCK OUT OF THIS GUY!! THANATOS-“ the angel teetered off, Thanatos’ eye lights burning crimson cutting him off. The severity of the situation had sank in in seconds – neither of her companions had bothered to take a step back towards her, they had been perturbed by the vision, driven away. "IT'S NOT LIKE THAT." Exandroth cautiously backed up deeper into the room, Zuen’s outline behind him morphing to create the silhouette of an angel with two great arching horns. “IT’S NOT LIKE THAT!! ZUEN IS JUST TRYING TO TURN US AGAINST EACH OTHER. LET’S JUST KILL HIM BEFORE HE-“

"Is that it Exandroth? Or do you just want us to do your dirty work now so you can take power for yourself?"

"YOU'RE NOT USUALLY LIKE THIS."

“Because I’m not usually lied to.. You would really conspire with a god if it meant you could get your way? Is everyone just puppets to you??”

“I HAVEN’T LIED, I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING!! YOU SEE ONE STUPID VISION AND SUDDENLY YOU CAN'T TRUST ME?? I THOUGHT WE HAD MADE UP!! I THOUGHT WE WERE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE!!"

Rumi punctuated their words with a mournful finality, “So. Did. I.”

Exandroth turned its back to the pair, even as Thanatos drew his axe, gazing up at Zuen with clasped hands. “ZUEN. ZUEN, TELL THEM IT ISN'T TRUE. TELL THEM YOU'RE A LIAR!!"

"This is your business Exandroth, not mine."

Exandroth’s expression contorted in blinding hatred, lip raised to show gnashing teeth. “YOU FUCKING DICK, I’LL KILL YOU ZUEN!!” It felt eyes boring into the back of its head, and it laughed; Exandroth laughed nervously, then boisterously, it became uncontrollable. Feathers creeped along Peter’s body, rupturing from his skin and tearing at his human form, Exandroth’s resemblance to a person lessening. Wings obscured him, but the teeth and eyes lining the freshly peeled limbs conveyed all the emotion it needed. "OH, SO YOU THINK *I'M* A TRAITOR, IS THAT IT? YOU DON'T TRUST ME?"

The question hung unanswered. Magic was gathering and building up and suffocating the space.

“WELL YOU KNOW WHAT? I NEVER NEEDED YOU. YOU’VE OUTGROWN YOUR USEFULNESS. AFTER I’M DONE WITH YOU, I’LL KILL ZUEN ALL BY MYSELF!! YOU’RE A TERRIBLE GOD SLAYER, YOU’RE A TERRIBLE PERSON, AND I’M GOING TO BECOME GOD.”

“Exandroth, you’re acting insane..!” “Your death would be a hinderance to us..”

"I'M NOT CRAZY!! AND I'M NOT GOING BACK TO BEING THE LAP DOG OF A BUNCH OF CIRCLE JERKERS!!"

Exandroth spun around, a celestial blaze igniting in a spark with the broad stroke of his wings. Rumi jumped back, their clothes elegantly slipping out of reach of getting singed. Their eyes darted back and forth, bouncing on their feet as they strategised and moved to change position. Meanwhile, Thanatos stood resolute, his own hellfire roaring and choking out the white flames. Exandroth held its breath, the fire burning higher, trying to gain the upper hand but making little headway. The intensity of the fire had nearly swallowed up Exandroth’s attention, but with a snap of her neck he caught Rumi attempting to flank him. The fire suddenly diverted and lashed towards Rumi like a whip, Rumi barely tripping ahead of the flames now hot on their heels. Thanatos’ weapon was clenched tightly between his fists, but he paused to listen out for the voice of reason he’d come to expect from Rumi. Rumi called out over the sound of crackling, “No!! Thanatos, don’t hurt him!! It’ll just hurt Peter!!

Exandroth’s otherworldly echo harmonised so it could jeer in a nasally voice, “THAT’S RIGHT THANATOS: DON’T HURT ME, IT’LL HURT PETER.” He tore Peter’s glasses from his face, dropping them within Rumi’s line of sight before cracking them under its heel. Exandroth whistled, the familiar Exandroth had neglected up until this point flying down to settle on its shoulder, giving Exandroth a soft lick on the cheek. “LIZARD,” Exandroth gestured for Lizard to attack… But Lizard merely blinked slowly. Its mouth opened and Rumi caught a faint static, watching with wide eyes and a shred of hope in their heart that something could be salvaged. Rumi’s stomach dropped when Exandroth aggressively brushed Lizard off, Lizard scrambling to fly away. “IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU ALL TURN ON ME, I’LL STILL KILL YOU!!”

“No!” Rumi’s blade tore through the fire with a holy glow, dispersing it. "It doesn’t have to be like this!! We don't have to fight! Just stand down!!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO CROSS ME,” Exandroth spat out.

Thanatos was out of patience, charging forward, axe scrapping against the ground. Thanatos raised up his weapon and slammed it down, eldritch appendages raising to meet it and tanking the blow with its doughy consistency. The flesh spread up the weapon, as if eager to consume it, before abruptly it retreated. It dissipated and melted into the floor, a hushed cacophony of shrieks following it - and Thanatos could hear it, a hundred voices quaking in fear of the smited blade.

Exandroth scattered the glass across the floor with a subtle kick, but evidently not subtle enough as Thanatos’ inner system whirred in recollection of a similar attack. Thanatos braced himself, shielding his body as he was assaulted by light refracting from the shards of glass, slicing at his metal plates. It gave Exandroth a moment to back up and put space between them, Exandroth backing up until it stood right alongside Zuen. Zuen was beaming right in Exandroth’s face, and Exandroth snarled, overwhelmed with the impulse to lash out. Exandroth put all her weight into a punch that left her stumbling forward, Zuen sidestepping the fist.

When its eyes parted from the ground to reassess its surroundings, the god had disappeared into a thick blanket of darkness. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, its eldritch sight unable to pierce the ethereal murk. It was effectively blind, Thanatos’ eyes weren’t on it – and Exandroth regretted having a hand in designing such a cut throat killing machine. By the time Exandroth had received its cue, it was too late to react. Exandroth let out an unholy shriek that had Rumi reaching up to block their ears; Exandroth ripping off feathers and meat as it hurriedly (and gorily) detached itself from the wing pinned under Thanatos’ axe. The missing mass of flesh nearly downed it, but it caught enough of its balance to scramble to its feet and escape another slash. Red light was bathing the surroundings, Exandroth drenched in sweat and the intense anxiety of a wounded animal. Something primal had kicked into high gear, because there were no words, just Exandroth breaking off and making a mad dash for the nearest exit.

Exandroth evaded Thanatos with an adrenaline-boosted shot of speed, only matched by Rumi’s own. In Exandroth’s wake an excess of celestial blood was gushing out and smearing along the heavenly grounds, and Rumi followed the trail diligently. Exandroth was scuttling away from his former companions with clumsy footwork and Rumi was close, so close, reaching out, a hair away— but Exandroth made a last-minute dive and fell over the edge, disappearing beyond the layer of clouds. Rumi was forced to stop short of the drop, staring into the abyss with their hand still reached out. They quietly muttered to themselves, “No… No….. No, no, no-!” Rumi dug around in their pocket. “Wait!! Peter!! Come back!!!!” In a flurry of emotion they had forced a ring onto their finger, and lurched forward with the intent to dive over the edge—

They fell back on their ass, scooting themselves back away from the edge and shaking their head, “No, no, that’s not going to work-“ They rested their hands on the nape of their neck; mind racing, buzzing with thoughts, reenacting the scene, recalling their time as Rumi, remembering Peter, losing track of their goals, their goal to slay the gods, wondering if they were wrong, if this was real… Dammit….. Dammit..! Thanatos’ foot fell heavy behind Rumi; Rumi lowered their head, hair falling over their face.

“Thanatos…” What did we do? “Thanatos, we need to find Peter…..” What did we do? “We need him…….” Rumi’s shoulders shook. “I can’t- We can’t do this without…” Was this their fault?

“…I understand.”

Rumi sniffled, only opening their teary bleared eyes upon feeling a cold-blooded friend crawl onto them. They sniffled again, “Lizard…? Oh.. I’m so sorry..” They gave a moment for them to sit in silence. …..Wait. “Lizard!!” Rumi tilted their head up to grin at Thanatos, picking up Lizard and holding up the creature to him. “..Thanatos, we can find still find Peter!!!”

“It does appear that way.”

Sunny approached the group, sitting beside Rumi and letting out a squeak. “..You’re right Sunny, this isn’t over. We just have to have hope. I can’t believe I was so blinded-“

Thanatos solemnly nodded.

“-but we can still fix this…”

“..and do you think it’s safe to leave Zuen behind?”

“Zuen?” Rumi frowned, their expression intense. “..I have a feeling he’ll be staying right where he is.”

Fin.

[khaleesiofalicante]

dani can you make a list of the main takeaways from this chapter? so much happened that I think my mind missed a couple of details...

also,the chapter was amazing.i fucking loved it. petition for chapter to be from other magnus pov. also we need the diary of other max

Not y'all making me write a 25k chapter AND Sparks Note lmao. Okay. But let's see.

What do we know about the Other Timeline:

Max and David (with their kids) lived a very different life in the Other Timeline. They went into the mundane world (not Australia hehe, Staten Island) and lived as mundanes, hoping it would keep them safe.

This means in the other timeline A LOT of the things that happened in LBAF 5 and 6 did not happen - including Arcaid, Blackbane, Arthur getting arrested, Other Max drama etc. It was just...It was a very quiet and peaceful life.

Mavid family knew about Arthur's power. He tells them as we saw. They also know Lucifer killed him.

They had a very quiet life until the day of Winter Solstice when Arthur dies, Lance gets triggered and destroys Idris and all the nephilim in the world.

His power kills Lance and the door between the demon world and mundane world breaks, turning the real world into a demonic one where demons just live freely (because nephilim aren't there to kill them anymore)

All the nephilim died except for David (who switched to his demon blood). But 11 days after his boys' deaths, he takes his own life by changing back into his angel blood and drawing an agony rune on his chest. He dies before the demons find him.

Warlocks can't use magic in OT because demons sense it and kill them. So, they all wear Arcane binders (which takes their magic away).

A lot of warlocks in the other timeline are dead too - including Ragnor and Catarina.

The Warlock Academy in London is where baby warlocks are brought in (Magnus teleports them there) and trained not to use their magic (this makes me very sad btw). Tessa runs the place. Tessa does not wear arcane binders because she needs to put it on everyone else.

The Specials (Eldest Curses) who can use their 'special' powers learned to expand on them. Tessa can turn into demons too (she once turned into an angel in TID), Magnus can teleport through dreams (dream walking), Max can time travel because he used lightning/light to create portals that break through the fabric of time.

The Other Timeline is a fucking mess. People die every day. It's not hospitable and it's dangerous and it's literally dying. I'd give it another 300-400 years before everyone (mundanes) dies.

That's when Time Travel idea is brought up. There is a lot of research to figure out what to do. There is an ENTIRE team of people working together to fix the timeline - under Max's leadership.

The first attempt is to bring Arthur back (because it was the obvious trigger) but then Max finds out about canon events and how they cannot be changed.

That's when Kincaid comes up. Everyone knows a little bit about him even though he doesn't exist in their timeline. They see him in the mural. Hermes knows the Knightstorms (because of Mikkel). Max knows him because Arthur used to mumble his name in his sleep.

Hermes sacrifices himself (because Michael's blood is guarded by his own at Nico's orders) for Kincaid to be created.

Max creates Kincaid and then they all wait patiently.

ENTER THE CURRENT TIMELINE.

What happened at the end:

Other Max says he won't change a canon event

David forces him (by threatening to take his own life) to open a time portal

But they don't let Other Max change the canon event because they fear he will go through the portal to his own timeline

So Max puts him to sleep

When Other Max wakes up, he finds out that Arthur is alive and Winter Solstice is over. Meaning someone changed the canon event and prevented Arthur's death.

[goodusernamepending]

I’m really digging Malevolent so far, here are my reactions to the first 5 episodes.

Warning: it's super long and dumb

E1

“~And you call it madness ~ Ah but I call it love~” a bop

Off to a great start, our head’s haunted and our eyes have stopped working. Also the voice in our head started growling when we picked that book up. This is some demonic possession shit

The voice started out so soft and friendly like ‘hey buddy, I’m your friend. Just calm down’ and then it immediately gets pissed when Arthur start asking questions

“I have your eyes” disconcerting

And we murdered our partner… this is a great start to the podcast

Several shenanigans including hiding a dead body and almost killing a guy later

We learn that the thing in our head was sent to Arthur via book, it’s possessing our eyes so we’re dependent on it. There are other worlds caused by the choices each world makes and when a being or world dies it is sent to The Dark World where our creepy new friend is from. A junkyard for realities.

We also learn that it’s 1934 and that Arthur lives in Arkham ma. The same town Lovecraft wrote about….

Catchy little tune from the opening again except… the voice recognizes it and Arthur doesn’t… I’m going to remember that for later

Obligatory: someone else (wearing a white mask the voice recognizes) is after the cursed artifact that we’re in possession of and almost shoots us

Voice reveals that they don’t remember who they are before getting very angry at Arthur for basically trying to be a good detective even though he’s blind now. *Growl*

Oh and the previous tenant of our office left town in a hurry… great!

Oh creepy mask guy knows where we live… GREAT!

The last detective who worked in our office that we got our cases from had a partner who died horrifically… GREAT!!!

And I’m so happy to know that our dead partner Peter (RIP) felt like he was being watched in this creepy house when they were trying to find that dead girl

But at least the voice is nice enough to tell us it’s a sunny day, right?

Nah, he’s suspicious, why did he get so angry when Arthur mentioned not asking more questions about the dismembered dead girl. Why is this important to them?

Hidden bookshelf door!!! 10/10 podcast!!!!

That mural… a mass of black tentacles, wet mouths and writhing goats legs…I kinda want to draw it now

And if there was any doubt in my mind that this was going to be some Lovecraft shit, Arthur name drops The Miskatonic University

What are you, voice? How do you know the mural’s name?

“Arthur, I am not this creature” oh but you’re totally a completely different eldritch horror, aren’t you?

A second more secret, more evil basement

Oh… very bad things are going to happen to us

E2

I agree with Arthur, you got a cult! What are you!

You saying “I have your eyes still” like it’s a threat doesn’t instill confidence!

This conversation with the librarian makes me realize that if this were one of the older cosmic horror short stories, Arthur would be the weird stranger someone meets that kicks off the plot. You meet this guy that walks as if he can’t see but his eyes are clearly assessing everything around him. He leaves long pauses when he talks as if he’s listening for something and once he slips up and calls himself we while asking to see a cursed book on an old god because he’s researching a cult. Our boy is a weird dude and I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets chased by monster hunters in the future.

congrats, you've upgraded to homicide

Wait. waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait! "I can't feel my arm!" "No, but I can" Body Snatcher!

I have a very bad feeling about this new development and Arthur agrees but at least Voice doesn't seem to actually want our body. can't tell whether or not this is foreshadowing.

God I love the conversations that these two have about their situation and the possibility of them switching places. And who tf are you voice?

dice again? why?

out of everything, Accidental child acquisition was not something I was expecting

Are we being chased by goats right now?

That song again! and something terrible happens immediately after

I swear to god if this child is the antichrist I will eat aquarium gravel

E3

"Where's the car?" "All over the place" "And the driver?" "All over the place as well" add vehicular manslaughter to our list of crimes

with the creepy mansion this feels like a ttrpg side quest

Arthur speaks so softly about the baby

dice sounds again? maybe this is a ttrpg. Is it a meta thing and the writers are choosing story beats with them or is it part of the story?

I think this show solved the problem of visual descriptions in podcasts.

Normally a writer has three choices for this 1: make the characters describe their surroundings and appearances of other people which can sound a bit stilted and out of place since sighted people don't do that, 2: choose not to describe anything or anyone unless you have to which feels more real but sometimes means the audience has no idea what's going on, or 3: have the audio show told in something other than first person or present tense (It's a radio show, series of letters, phone calls, there's an omnipotent narrator, ect...)

But with a blind main character and a secondary character guiding them, there's an in-universe reason to describe the scene to us. we can see just as much as Arthur can so the voice is our eyes as well. It's brilliant!

maybe that's why I feel the need to use the word we while talking about this podcast, I feel like I'm inside Arthur's head.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

one of the missing girls was an unnamed immigrant, was this polish family related to her?

This is some spooky ghost shit that I can appreciate

I feel like the choice to free or destroy will have ramifications for Arthur down the line

"I have to hope that any creature can be redeemed" Damn! careful, your insecurities are showing (luv this)

E4

Arthur is very sweet with the baby

probably not a good idea to bring a baby on our horror road trip anyway

Aww <3 he described the baby for Arthur, this is so sweet

This is too relatable. If I accidentally asked for a ride from the wrong truck and the driver said yes I would also get in anyway just to avoid being rude.

I feel like every new episode is just a different horror movie, this one feels like a hitchhiker slasher flick

Maybe the weird gas mask guy is nice actually? Maybe I'm just being too judgemental.

nope he's going to kill us

it's like a bad joke 'Two men who hear voices are on a road trip together'

there are four known fear responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn. Arthur is a fawner, in times of danger he will become so polite that he will follow the serial killer into the creepy basement

first dice and now a coin flip I really hope this series has a Q&A

can he... hear us? is it something about sanity that brings you closer to these monsters? Oops never mind

"We need to get the fuck out of this basement now!" really Arthur? NOW YOUR CONCERNED!

Another Missing girl!

"Arthur, tell that voice in your head that my mother was not a whore" Literal chills

Arthur has been stabbed and Oh the tension is palatable!

Pros to bringing the severed head: We might get some answers. Cons to bringing the severed head: It's a rotting severed head.

Every time violence happens the voice gets very excited by the prospect of murder

Calamity follows these two wherever they go

Well Arthur is dead, that's the end of the podcast

"This too shall pass"

E5

Oh god not another voice. Fuck are we in jail!

Adam Fry

An asylum, if MoonKnight taught me anything it's that this is neither real nor harmless

the door feels oddly shaped... please don't be flesh

Oh that is not a human

"Wait did I tell you my name?" Oh god something was in our head and we just told it exactly where to go and who to find!

"We've been in a coma for over a month" I'm so excited to see how things can possibly get worse than this over the course of the podcast

At least our voice has a name now. Hello John, it's nice to meet you

That song again

Oh no... we're too late...so what killed her

Wait... I actually had to go back to listen to our confrontation with Eddie. Arthur did shoot him but I'm pretty damn sure that John strangling him is what finished the job... what game are you playing here, John?

Between the monster library book, Arthur dreaming of that otherworldly asylum, and these new visions I think that he might be slowly un-tethering from reality. Using these visions is tempting but I think John's right about this changing us. Let's see what the dead girl has to say

fingers

oh it's never good when the creature can see you through your visions

"It felt like he tricked us" "He wanted us to touch her" I am having all the bad feelings

"He can't come through"

"No"

"But?"

"But maybe other things can"

Not much to say about this next part there's a monster chasing our boys and I'm terrified. Good job podcast.

"It looks like foulness"

Ah yes when in doubt pull a Hansel and Gretel

John knows Robert Frost

Dice whenever we find something

We're being hunted, something has seen us, our lead is dead, and we need to find her diary to get some answers lets fucking go!

So far I am LIVING for everything going on here definitely going to keep listening

[lingerxng]

skyhold was quiet at night.

everyone was asleep. there were guards posted along the outer wall, they were told, but lon'aril expected even them to be dozing. how would enemies even get *up* here? they weren't sure how *they* had.

there were still torches burning. in a few hours, the cooks would be up, starting on breakfast. but for now, the keep was silent.

they wandered. most of the keep had been... not repaired, but reinforced. kept stable while the builders worked. they knew exactly which passages they weren't supposed to be in, but those were the ones with the most interesting things to be found. around a corner, through a darkened room-- a storeroom once, they thought-- up a staircase, through a door--

and out into the rotunda. where they were no longer alone.

solas looked as surprised to see them as they were to see him. there was a moment of silence before lo spoke. "did you know there was a passage back here?" they said, pointing over their shoulder. "it leads back to the kitchens. eventually."

"...i suspect you've done more exploring here than i have," he said, amusement in his voice. "it's late. why are you wandering now?"

"can't sleep," they responded simply. they stepped into the room fully, letting the door behind them shut. "my bed, it's..."

"too soft?"

they nodded. "goosedown, or something. i feel like i'm sinking into a bog every time i lay down. remind me in the morning to find one of the hammocks to set up in my room."

solas chuckled. "i'm sure josephine will love that."

"fuck her and her decorum," they said without any real venom. "it's not like i'm going to be meeting any dignitaries in my chambers." not that they were meeting *anyone* in their chambers. they crossed the room to lean on the desk, watching the taller man. "why are *you* awake?"

"i was... struck with inspiration," he said, sounding almost... sheepish? it was then that lon'aril noticed the knife in his hand, and the pallette in the other. a glance down at the desk found the rest of the pigments, and mixing tools, and--

"wait." they looked up again. "*you're* the one painting all these?"

solas gave them another look of amusement. "who did you think did it?"

"i guess i hadn't put much thought into it." they turned slowly, examining the room. they hadn't really paid much attention to the murals before, but now... lo tilted their head. "it's... have you been painting everything that's happened?"

"yes." they could feel his eyes on their back. "the important things, anyway."

"why?" they turned back to look at him.

it was his turn to tilt his head. "i suppose i find it interesting."

"...hm." they looked at the murals again, then moved to stand next to him. "what are you working on, now?"

"our journey into the fade." his voice was soft as he described it. "the nightmare. how we escaped."

"what a fun mural."

"i said it was interesting, not that it was a *good* thing."

"getting out was good."

"true."

they were silent for a moment, looking at the slowly drying plaster. "would you mind if i stayed?" they asked.

"not at all. your company is always welcome."

they shifted a few things on his desk to make room and sat, quiet and contemplative as solas pulled himself up the scaffolding again to touch up his paint.

[fandoms-in-law]

Stories Chapter 8

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

Summary: Steve finds his own way to making his rooms his own, by inviting everyone around

the penultimate chapter

/\/\

The house wasn't finished and with every room where furniture was changed now the painting was all done, Steve felt more uncertain just as much as he felt like the house was becoming a home. It just didn't feel like his yet. 

The dining room felt like it belonged to Hellfire, but after Robin heard that thought a dinner party was arranged. 

The kitchen had always been Steve's or felt like that anyway. Even when his parents came home and sometimes tried to rearrange it to whatever taste they'd heard recently he'd put it back to his liking as soon as they left. 

Using that to relax him before spending time in the redecorated rooms worked as a bridge to helping him view them as his own.

"So this isn't meant to be some big fancy deal, right?" Nancy asked as she and Jonathan were let in, looking around. 

Steve grinned, "If anything it's a group date. Robin invited Vicky too and Eddie should be here soon, but it's just Robin's way to get me used to the new rooms via a dinner party."

"Better not mention you avoid the pool or she'll be insisting on constant pool parties." Jonathan teased, gesturing further into the house. "Want us to wait in the living room while you finish cooking or do you need any help?" 

"Go distract Robs from trying to help please. She'll be causing a fire if she tries to help too much I swear." Steve grinned, laughing when a cry of protest came from the kitchen.

"Sorted, we'll keep her distracted." Nancy nodded, a smirk forming.

It was a small gathering, but getting to host, being the one at the head of the table (at Eddie's insistence when he tried not to be) and just laughing with his friends as they tried to copy the poses Eddie and Will had painted them in made it feel more like his home than any paint or furniture could.

…

The bathroom should have been the last thing to be finished. It wasn't just repainting or changing furniture after all. It included getting plumbers in and measurements being taken before any changes could be made and then there was the structural change added for Steve's bath to be lowered slightly. That did amuse everyone a little when they could now see where the ceiling was lowered for the plumbing and the tub when in the right room downstairs. 

Essentially though it made Steve believe it was his from the start because the change being arranged was a nightmare of stress and letting strangers through his room and in and out of his house constantly over a couple of days. 

And that was enough for him to make sure his own room wouldn't have the furniture changed until after it was done.

Plus he already knew how to make the space full of good memories and would see anyone he wanted included at some point while working. 

"So I'm planning a spa night next week. Everything in the bathroom should be finished and set according to the plumbers and you're coming." Steve stated, nodding at the stunned look Will was giving him. "I've already checked with Joyce it's okay and as long as I get you home before 11 you're good to come." 

Will still looked hasitant as he asked, "So who else is? And why me?"

"Cause this redecoration wouldn't be half as good without your murals and just Robs and Eddie. We're making face masks and lip balm. Having pedicures or something. I'm still deciding but it's going to be a spa night just to relax."

"And paint our nails." Robin agreed, coming back over to the counter where she'd been reshelving videos. "He included that, right?" 

"Not yet. He also hasn't told us when he's picking us up." Max called, her head appearing from behind a shelf a moment later to Steve's surprise since he didn't know she was in the store, let alone so close. 

He still huffed in response. "You can't just invite yourself along." 

Will glanced between them, "But she can if I'd feel weird being the only younger teen with you 3, right? Besides you already paid me for the paintings. You don't have to invite me to anything else."

"Okay. 5 for spa night on Friday. I'll fetch you both around 5:30 and get you home on time. No, you aren't making this a sleepover Max. Thank Will for getting to invite yourself." Steve agreed, gesturing for the kids to talk and straightening as the door chimed for another customer coming in. 

…

Even while driving the 2 kids to his, Steve was muttering over the things he thought would make a spa night perfect and that they'd be able to improvise for themselves. 

"Have you done this before? Your list of home spa ideas is just getting longer." Will asked, snickering slightly at the idea of Steve having done it while still a jock ruling his school. 

Steve met his eyes in the rear view mirror, amusement in them too. "Carol was quite insistent that my house should be taken over for her friends to have their own spa nights a few times. She could forbid Tommy from making it a party but could never kick me out of my house, so yeah I've done it a few times but not with anyone else for years now."

"King Steve was treated like one of the girls? Is that how you got the sleeps with everyone rep, cause your charm doesn't seem effective." Max teased.

"Hey! Don't assume you know who I was. The Harrington charm just doesn't need using constantly to exist, okay. Besides, there's no insult there. Those girls are scary in the amount of skin and hair care they know." He countered but grinned as he pulled up outside his house. "Besides I could have you smearing anything on your skin tonight. I think you want me to know what I'm doing."

"I definitely do. I don't trust these magazines Nancy keeps suggesting Robin read. Isn't Nance meant to be a scary journalist?" Eddie agreed, somehow knowing what was being said even as he was the one to open Steve's door. 

That got Steve laughing even more. "Only when she's got a mission. The magazines were her way of practicing. She'll rewrite anything to make it more serious or empowering for her specifically. Not sure why she's decided Robs likes them though." 

"It's how she knows to bond with other girls. Apparently her and Barb used to trade them and laugh over obvious lies or gossip that seems more suited to the cafeteria than anything trying to report news." Robin called from where she was hanging out the door. "Enough on that though, I want a face mask and a pedicure."

That was enough to get everyone inside, following Steve up to his bathroom while Will and Max clammered with questions over if they were doing each others or if there was a plan for spa treatments. 

As Eddie took the kids home and Steve focused now on washing Robin's hair, everyone could agree that it was an evening well spent and they'd be keeping their eyes out for things to bring to future spa nights.

chapter 9

[waltwhitmansbeard]

sneakily drops a box of muffins and maple ginger cookie in your ask box

Good morning :D

Whenever you have the chance, may I ask Spring Prompts - 31. helping each other out, and to make it different, anyone from C2?

Thank you <3

31. helping each other out NOM NOM. idk if you'd exactly call this "helping each other out" but eh whatever.

Honestly, Caduceus is so lucky to have a friend like Jester. After the Nein Heroez limped into Nicodranas for some repairs (a hurricane followed by an encounter with a pod of merrows made for quite the one-two punch for the poor ship), Jester had decided she didn't want to wait around for the job to be done and instead spent several days pestering Caleb via Sending to teleport her and Fjord to the Blooming Grove for a visit with their favorite firbolg family. Three nights of near-constant telepathic songs about cupcakes later, and here they are, Jester and Fjord, ready to bring joy and baked goods to the Clay family.

The first thing Jester notices, of course, is how plain their little house is. Most of the damage that had been done during the confrontation with Trent Ikithon has been fixed, but no artistry was put into it. It's just plain stone and wood—and that can't do.

"Caduceus?" Jester asks in her most sweetest voice as she forces pastries from Nicodranas into Clarabelle's hands. "Do you know what I was thinking?"

"Rarely if ever," comes the dry reply. Caduceus is bent low over the stovetop, boiling water for tea.

"I was thinking that maybe it would be nice to have some color."

"But you're already so colorful, Jester," Clarabelle remarks. She pops the croissant into her mouth, and Jester grins as her eyes narrow in happiness.

"Not for me! For you! For the Blooming Grove!" She bounces over to Caduceus. "Listen. I brought all my paints with me. Fjord said I didn't have to but what does he know?" She glances out the window to see Fjord chatting with Colton about something boring, probably. "I'm thinking...a big mural, with lots of flowers and butterflies and oh! Maybe some bees? Something really pretty for all your dead people to look at!"

Caduceus sighs, and she's not sure if it's the usual sigh ("I don't know, Jester...") or her favorite sigh (the sigh of giving in, perfected by Fjord). "Well, y'know, Jester, the Blooming Grove, it's kind of...a sacred place..."

"And what is more sacred than art?" She flaps a hand in Clarabelle's direction. "Clara, tell him I'm right."

Her eyes go wide. "I...uh...I mean..."

"Okay okay okay, not a mural then. Maybe...I paint the front door? Something really pretty and welcoming."

He sighs again, and there it is! Her favorite sigh. "Just...make sure it's okay with my mom first?"

"Of course, of course!" She throws her arms around him, happy to note he's not a rail-thin as he once was, but still nearly knocks him off of his feet. "You won't regret it, I promise!"

It takes little time to convince Constance to let her paint the door. She mostly just gives Jester that indulgent smile she's come to rely upon and sends her on her way. So Jester stands before the door, her paints spread around on the little front porch, her tongue between her teeth as she surveys her canvas. The door needs to be bright, it needs to be inviting, and it needs to tell all of the spirits here in the Blooming Grove that they picked the right place to spend the rest of eternity. It also needs to pay homage to the Traveler, because even though Caduceus serves the Wildmother, it cannot hurt to have an extra set of eyes watching over this place.

And so she gets to work. It takes her all afternoon, stretching and stooping and swirling her paints around, transforming what was once a plain wooden door into an explosion of color and life. Clarabelle comes out to watch, still munching on some pastries, and at one point Fjord moseys over to remind Jester that this isn't their house, which, duh, that's why it was so dull before! The sun is making its way down into the tops of the surrounding Savalirwood by the time she's finished. She steps back to admire her handiwork, paint-stained hands proudly on her hips, before covering the doorway with the tarp she'd been using as a dropcloth. "Oh Clays! C'mere!"

One by one, the Clays and Fjord gather, the latter clearly nervous about whatever she was going to reveal. Jester claps her hands together. "My beloved Clay family, I would like to present to you a Jester Lavorre original: your front door!"

She whips the dropcloth away to reveal her grand creation. The door is no longer a door, but rather a slice of the Blooming Grove itself. From the bottom, all manner of wildflowers of yellow and blue and red and pink lick up from whispers of green grass, overgrown and buzzing with the tiniest crawling things. A few crooked headstones just peek over the tops of the petals, and between them, framed by the towering trunks of the Savalirwood, is a family in silhouette, five figures with floppy ears holding hands, draping arms around each other's shoulders. Jester employed some of her magical paints to create small butterflies that really flit around their heads, and a few birds dancing between the branches of the trees over head. The sun is setting between them, just as it is now, in real life, and it casts a warm glow over the entire scene.

Jester watches the Clays intently, anxious for their reaction. For a long minute, they just stare in silence. Then Caduceus slowly walks up and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "It's wonderful, Jester. A real masterpiece."

She beams. "Thank you, Caduceus!" She tackles him into another hug, and he laughs, patting her back. "And look!" She releases him and rushes to the door, pointing down to the flowers in one corner. "See?"

Caduceus peers down, and a bemused smile appears on his face when he spots it: the petals of one flower perfectly overlay with those of another to form the shape of a dick.

"The Traveler is with you!" Jester whispers.

"You're with me, Jester," he drawls. "That's what really matters."

The rest of the Clays come to congratulate and thank her for her artistic contribution to their home, and yeah, Jester thinks as Constance hugs her tight, Caduceus is so lucky to have such an amazing friend like her.

[encantowishes]

Hello! I've been away for a while, but I didn't forget about Encanto Big Bang! Edit: Find the rest of @hectic-hector's illustrations of the pivotal bucket scene here.

Bruno reluctantly lifted the bucket from his head, peering at the activity around him. "You sure about this?" he asked Félix.

His cuñado clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to the little stagger that followed. "Look at them. Everybody's focused on their own jobs. Nobody's going to pay you any mind."

Bruno fidgeted with the bucket, unsure. 

Félix’s eyes fell on the turning bucket. "Okay, two things, amigo. One, you simply can't walk around safely with that thing on your head. Two, you'll draw less attention without it."

Bruno sighed. He couldn't argue with that. "I could take it with me, though. For … luck."

"Of course."

Bruno tossed some salt over his shoulder, slipped the bucket handle over his wrist, and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow. Drawing a deep breath, he muttered "I can do this" a few times as he moved forward.

The wheelbarrow contained rubble and unsalvageable belongings that had been plucked from the wreckage of Casita. It needed to be moved from the back of the grounds to the front, where a donkey-drawn cart was waiting to carry it away. An easy enough task, even for a middle-aged man who'd spent the last decade laboring mainly to prevent his own discovery. Bruno felt it was time he pitched in, since everybody else was working so hard, and he'd spent the last couple days hiding behind the remains of a wall. (Though he had mixed the spackle.)

The problem lay in the fact that he had to run a gauntlet of other people to bring the wheelbarrow to its destination. People who had blamed their misfortunes on his prophecies. People who had jeered at him and called him "brujo," as though he'd never heard that pun before. People who had thrown guava churros at him, staining his favorite ruana, and wasting perfectly good churros.

Don’t draw attention to yourself. Just act normal. Or as normal as possible. That’s why it’s called “acting.”

“Omigosh it’s him!” 

“The guy from the mural?!”

“Isn’t he supposed to be seven feet tall? My abuela’s taller than him.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t look scary. Just tired.”

Bruno tried to focus on the wheelbarrow and ignore the chatter of little voices behind him, until they turned into a trio of little faces in front of him.

“You’re him, right?” asked a little girl with a long black braid and a broad smile.

“‘Him’ who?”

“THE MYSTERIOUS MISSING MADRIGAL!” shouted a little boy who was plainly over-caffeinated.

Bruno lowered the wheelbarrow and folded his arms. Only it took him two tries, because he’d forgotten about the bucket still hanging from his wrist. But once he’d managed it, he imagined he looked at least a little intimidating. “Who’s asking?”

“Us!” the kids chorused.

“Tío Bruno, there you are,” Mirabel said as she sidled up to him. “Good to see you out in the open! I’m supposed to let you know, we’re having lunch with the Guzmáns.”

“Oh, thanks.” Maybe Mirabel could take these kids off --

“Mm-hmm. Gotta run, Isa’s waiting for me.” She waved to the kids and hurried off.

Bruno looked back at the children, who had encroached even closer. And … were there more of them now? Yeah, a boy with wavy hair, and a girl in a straw hat.

Black-Braid Girl pointed at him. “You are the missing Madrigal!” She grinned as though this revelation was the greatest discovery of her life. 

“Aren’t you supposed to have green eyes?” asked Hat Girl.

“They are green,” Bruno said, a little too defensively. “Or hazel. Depends on the light.” This was … very weird. Ten years ago, kids this age would have hidden from him, not ganged up to interrogate him. Of course, ten years ago, this crop of kids hadn’t even been born yet.

“No, like spooky glowing green!” Coffee Boy insisted, lifting his hands to the sides of his face and wiggling his fingers with all the kindergarten menace he could muster.

“Do you really see people’s dreams?” piped up Wavy-Hair Boy.

“AND FEAST ON SCREAMS?” Coffee Boy wanted to know.

“No, and -- what? No!  Where have you been getting your information?”

“Camilo,” all the kids said together.

Yep, leave it to Camilo to turn Bruno into the local cryptid.

“Look kids, I got work to do. We’ve got a whole house to build.”

“Aww.” They all gave him very sad expressions. Yeah, this just kept getting weirder. They were disappointed he was trying to get away from them?

“I’m not gonna be able to get rid of you kids, am I?”

“Nope!” they chorused.

“Ay. Okay, how about this: If you” -- he pointed to Coffee Boy -- “go get me some coffee, and then everybody helps me with this wheelbarrow, I’ll tell you a story.”

At this, the kids jumped around like popcorn kernels in a hot pan.

Okay, weirder still, but … kind of sweet?

By the time the wheelbarrow was empty, the group had grown by two more boys, one wearing a poncho, and the other a vueltiao hat.

“All right, back we go for more debris.”

“But the story!”

“I can walk and tell a story at the same time. Can you walk and listen?”

Turned out they could. Bruno and his seven small followers passed Pepa, who stared before breaking out into laughter. “Mamá gallina!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Where were we? Oh, right. So then Jorge says to Hernando: ‘Señor, I hope you weren’t planning on wearing that for dinner.’”

Together, they filled the wheelbarrow with another load.

“Aren’t you going to put anything in your bucket?” asked Two-Braid Girl. Cecilia. Her name was Cecilia. Black-Braid Girl was Alejandra, and Coffee Boy was Juancho. That was probably as many new names as Bruno was going to remember at the moment.

Bruno looked at the bucket, again hanging from his wrist. “Nah.”

“What’s it for, then?” Cof-- Juancho demanded.

“Personal fulfillment.” The sarcasm might be lost on the kids, but it amused Bruno.

“So you’re just going to leave it empty?” asked Hat Girl.

Bruno stared at her for a long moment. 

“The next morning, Hernando was awakened by a terrible thunderstorm,” he went on.

As they walked, Bruno got so into his story that he started gesturing, and the kids teamed up to push the wheelbarrow so they could continue walking. He didn’t notice the woman he nearly ran into as they rounded the scaffolding.

It was Mercedes Ozma.

“Bruno Madrigal. I thought you were dead.”

He leaned forward a little, just far enough to rap on one of the wheelbarrow’s wooden handles. “... Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.”

“There’s something I need to say to you.”

Bruno took a deep breath. “Look, if it’s about your fish, I’m sorry  --”

“It is about the fish! My abuelo raised award-winning goldfish. World-renowned!”

“World-renowned?”

“They were so important to him, that when their village was attacked, he collected as many as he could before my family fled. Only one survived the journey. And when my abuelo passed, the keeping of that fish fell to me. Did you know goldfish can live about thirty years? Mine only made it to nine. And when it died, I felt like I had let my family down.”

“Oh,” was all Bruno could say, though Mercedes’s story seemed oddly relatable.

“Anyway, that’s why I was so upset about it. But it wasn’t right for me to take it out on you, and I’m sorry.” 

She held out her hand. Oh, right, he was supposed to shake it. He was still getting used to the whole “human contact” thing again. He accepted the hand, as briefly and as gingerly as seemed polite.

And then there was awkward silence.

“Um, well, glad we could put this behind us?” Bruno offered.

Mercedes nodded curtly. “Good to see you’re not dead.” She carried on hammering whatever it was she was putting together.

So now not only were children flocking to him, but villagers with decades-long grudges were apologizing? At least one, anyway. Maybe the bucket really was lucky.

“Where were we, kids?”

“The hot air balloons were full of pirates!” Alejandra supplied.

“And Jorge almost fell into the Nile River!” Juancho added.

They all continued to work in this manner as Bruno told his story until Julieta came around to collect her brother for lunch.

“Thank you for the story, Señor!” Cecilia called after him. “You’re a good storyteller!”

Julieta chuckled as they walked away. “Did you make some new friends?”

Bruno took a moment before answering. “I’ve spent my life living in a sentient house and seeing the future, but whatever just happened there was also pretty weird.”

“Was it? I seem to remember you telling our friends some pretty enthralling tales when we were kids.”

“Sure, but that was back when I had friends. Back before ‘little and quirky’ turned into ‘old and creepy.’”

Julieta took her brother’s arm as they continued to walk. “A lot of things have changed.”

He mulled this over. She was right. The valley was open to the outside world now. Casita was gone. All the family had been forced to stop hiding their problems, and to open their eyes to each other’s. Mamá was trying -- he could see she was really trying -- to be more open and less demanding. And his long absence, it seemed, had been enough time to change Bruno’s reputation from “menace to be at best tolerated” to “intriguingly odd old man kids willingly approach.” But how long would that last? Because --

“I haven’t changed.”

“You haven’t? Even after ten years in … in your circumstances?” Julieta must’ve been avoiding saying in the walls, just on the other side of my kitchen, where I’ve spent hour after hour thinking you were gone forever.  

Or something like that. Bruno hadn’t missed the horror in his sisters’ eyes when they discovered just where he’d been all this time.

He almost said: “After a certain point, one day is pretty much like another.” But something told him that wouldn’t help. So he changed the subject. “Wonder what’s for lunch?”

Clean up and construction continued. Some days were better than others. There were times he needed to wear his bucket and rely on a relative to be the intermediary between himself and a villager. Other times he was able to take the lead in marking out the next section of work.

Being out in the sunshine wasn’t so bad. Working with his hands was meditative. Although sometimes he didn’t meditate so much as start dwelling on things that bothered him. When that happened, he’d find a relative to work alongside and talk to. He was less anxious about the whole “getting reacquainted” thing when it was one on one rather than at big family meals, anyway.

“I heard a bunch of people talking about what might be outside the mountains,” Camilo said, as he and Bruno tiled the new kitchen wall. “And that led to the old folks talking about what they remembered from before the Encanto. Tío Agustín’s parents said in Bogotá there was a kind of show called a cinema. Basically a theater, but instead of a stage, there’s a … big blank space? and the actors are all very big? but they’re not really there? and … well, I didn’t really understand. But I’d like to see one, someday. See what it’s like.”

“Your pá used to make flip books for you, right?”

“Yeah.” Félix wasn’t a great illustrator -- his artistic gifts were more musical -- but he’d doodled dozens of pictures of little guys getting into various stages of predicaments. Many of these were curious accidents, such as a man tripping over a cat and trying to grab a table to catch himself, only to pull off the tablecloth and all the dishes on his way down. Camilo suspected that these doodles were inspired by Agustín. But the point was, if you ran your thumb across the pages so that they quickly flipped past, the little guy looked like he was actually moving.

“Cinema is like flip books. Except instead of drawings, they have a special camera that takes a whole bunch of partly see-through pictures, faster than you can blink. Then they go into a machine that runs all the pictures in front of a light. The pictures wind up on the wall, or the screen or whatever. It’s kinda like shadow puppets -- they look bigger than they really are.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Visions.” Obviously.

“You had a vision about how cinema works?”

“Look, sometimes I see things in visions that are just incidental to what I’m looking for, but then I get curious about them and follow up. Y’know, at some point -- maybe it’s already happened out there -- everybody’s gonna have a box in their house with a window in it, and they’ll use it to see the same kind of shows they have in the cinema. They’ll even be able to see things happening at that very moment somewhere far away.”

“How does that work?”

“That one was a little too complex for me.”

Later, those kids from the other day found Bruno while he was painting a ceiling, and wanted to know more about Hernando and Jorge. He was getting used to kids asking him for stories.

“Are they friends of yours?” he asked Antonio once, since the kids were close to his age.

The boy had hesitated. “Not really. I mean, they’re nice. They always say ‘hi’ to me. But I just …” He turned his attention to the speckled rat in his hands, lightly stroking his forefinger between her ears.

“It’s okay, I understand. Believe me, I do. I was thinking about introducing them to the rats. Think that would go over well?”

“I think so. Can I help?” Kids his age might intimidate him, but a chance to help animals make friends apparently superseded that worry.

“Couldn’t do it without you, kid.”

“Show them Pecosita,” Antonio suggested, holding up the rat. “She’s the calmest.”

The rodent reveal went about as well as could be hoped. Two of the kids excused themselves when they heard what was coming. A third lost his nerve shortly after Pecosita emerged. But nobody screamed or cried. The kids who stayed loved Pecosita. They thanked Bruno for showing her to them.

That night, Bruno curled up on a sofa at the Guzmáns’ house. He and Alma were spending their nights there, while Agustín and Félix’s families had taken the rest of the Madrigals into their homes. It was pretty quiet compared to Casita. The only sound of note was Mariano’s snores from down the hall. Dolores must really like that guy, Bruno mused, if she was prepared to potentially put up with that.

Bruno couldn’t sleep, though his body demanded rest after the day’s toil. He stared at his bucket, sitting on the floor in front of him. Alternately the Luck Bucket, or the Bucket of Personal Fulfillment (empty). And he thought about what Julieta had said, about how so many things had changed. And about all the evidence he’d seen to support that.

“But sooner or later, it’s all gonna fall apart,” he muttered to the bucket. “I’m gonna mess up somehow. I always do. I’ll say the wrong thing, and then I’ll go back to being Bad Luck Bruno the Brujo. The creepy seer.”

Except, no. Because he wasn’t a seer anymore. Couldn’t do it even if he wanted to. He hadn’t felt so much as a tickle of his Gift since Casita collapsed. Now the only thing that made his eyes itch was pollen.

He hadn’t told anyone that he was relieved, though surely no one would have been surprised. Some of his family members were very upset about losing their Gifts. Others seemed to have mixed feelings. Even Pepa missed her weather, at least a little. No rain, no rainbows, after all.

Bruno sat up, since he wasn’t falling asleep, and grabbed the bucket. “Without my Gift, would I have a chance to be something else?” he asked it. “And if I’m not a seer, then what am I?”

Of course, there had always been one thing he’d wanted to do. And given the reception his stories and his rat had gotten among the kids, maybe it was possible. 

His mind wandered to the sight of his little rat stage, destroyed in the collapse. Mirabel had warned him not to look, but he had looked. The various cutouts splintered. The stage itself in pieces. All that work, ruined.

“But I can rebuild!” he said, standing. “I will rebuild!” Balancing the bucket on the palm of one hand, he gestured with the other. “Bigger! Better! Brighter! Bolder! Not just for me, not just for the family. I’ll set it up in the plaza where everyone can see. We’ll call it … ‘The Triumphant Return of Madrigal’s Rat Theater!’ How does that sound?”

“Marvelous!”

“Thanks! I --” Wait. Buckets couldn’t talk.

Looking over his shoulder, Bruno saw Mariano smiling his perfect, pearly smile. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I only got up for some water.”

Bruno very much wanted to put the bucket over his head, but he refused to cause his niece any embarrassment by association. At least, no more than he could help. Slowly, he brought the bucket down to his belly and turned toward the taller man.

Mariano’s smile did not fade. “Dolores has told me about your rats, and the wonderful tricks they do. A rat theater sounds amazing! I’d love to see it for myself sometime.”

“Sure, of course. Premium seats. Just, ah, just don’t tell anybody you saw me talking to a bucket, okay?”

“Oh, was it not your prop? Like in Hamlet?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what it was. Like Hamlet, declaiming ‘to be or not to be.’ To a bucket.”

Mariano got his water and went back to his room. Bruno tried again to sleep, but his mind raced with possibilities. As soon as the new house was finished, he’d get to work on building a new rat theater. Maybe someone had a disused dollhouse he could remodel. His telenovela scripts had, sadly, been lost in the wreckage, but the basics of the storylines were still in his head. Besides, there were always new stories to explore.

He could get his sobrinos involved, too. Make it a family bonding experience. The older ones might not be interested, but the younger three for sure. Antonio would want to help train the rats. Mirabel would insist on making the costumes. Camilo … would probably try to stage a coup to wrest away creative control. Eh, there’d be something the kid could do. Special effects, maybe, or choreography.

Choreography? He was letting this idea run a little wild. The rats, though he tended to think of them as very special, were regular rats. There were limits to what they could learn from him. Maybe if Antonio still had his Gift, something like choreography would be possible, but -- ay, poor Antonio. One of the Madrigals who could honestly rejoice in his Gift, and he lost it after only one day.

Because Bruno’s sacrifice, and even Mirabel’s courage, had not been enough to save the magic. And maybe the family as a whole had a lesson to learn from that. But it was hardly fair to Antonio. Bruno saw how it hurt his sobrino, saw the boy watch sadly as birds flew by without stopping to chat, or stare distractedly into the forest. Bruno would take it all on again -- the burden, the pain, the societal rejection -- if it would reunite Antonio with his animal friends. But this was how it was always going to have played out. He’d seen that a decade ago. All he could do for Antonio now was share his affinity for rats.

Speaking of rats, a blunt-nosed little fellow called Chato emerged from the ruana hood, curious about why his human kept shifting around. Bruno cupped the rodent, and, stroking Chato’s spine with his thumb, finally settled down and began to drift off. If nothing else, he’d give Antonio lights and music and performing rats. Rats for all the kids. Rats for everyone. Buckets of rats.

He began jotting down ideas in a new notebook whenever he wasn’t helping with the new house. Including at mealtimes. He wouldn’t let anyone see what he was working on, not even Mirabel. He’d sworn Mariano to secrecy. He would keep it a surprise as long as he could. Finally, a secret he could keep from Dolores. Finally, a secret that was just for fun.

There were so many hands at work on the new house -- and plenty of those were skilled ones -- that it was not many more weeks before the new house was nearly complete. Bruno was not alone in planning a secret surprise -- all the family members save for one were in on another scheme.

Mirabel had worked so hard, organizing and supporting people, sorting out problems (including arguments) that cropped up -- and hefting her share of bricks, to be sure. Whether she saw it or not, she had all her abuela’s best qualities, and her mamá’s, too. One aspect of the work she had not been allowed to see was a little order that had been quietly placed with the metalsmith.

The moment came. Alma stood with Mirabel, evaluating the almost-complete new house. That was the signal. The rest of the family gathered around. Antonio presented Mirabel the shiny new doorknob, engraved with “M” for Madrigal -- and Mirabel. Then the boy very sweetly walked his cousin to the door, just as (Bruno had seen from his hiding place on the roof) she had done for him during his ceremony. The rest of the family gave her words of encouragement. She was close to tears, and so was Bruno.

Mirabel pushed the new doorknob into place, and a shimmering light streaked over the house. Suddenly it was no longer “the new house.” It was Casita, back to life. The miracle had remembered Mirabel at last.

The familiar moving tiles ushered everyone inside. There, Isabela found she could once again manifest plants of every kind, and Luisa could relocate even the largest of them with ease. Camilo showed off in his usual Camilo way, and Antonio joyously embraced his jaguar friend. Pepa danced under a scattering of hail. Julieta sighed in relief and headed for the kitchen.

Bruno felt that tickling, twitching, itching sensation behind his eyes again. He made a tiny sound of discomfort, and Dolores arrived at his side. “You okay, Tío?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I lived with it for forty-five years. Won’t take long to get used to it again.”

“The break was nice though, huh?”

He looked at her. “ You okay?”

She smiled in a way that wrinkled her nose. “Honestly, it was driving me a little bit nuts not knowing everything that was going on. Hm! Speaking of which, someone is talking about me right now.”

“Someone called Mariano?” Bruno teased.

She gave him another smile, a sly one, as she walked away.

Dolores was immediately replaced by Mirabel. “Tío, I -- well, I know you said --”

“Look at all this! Look how happy everyone is, look at Casita! This all happened because of you.”

“Oh …”

“I’m so proud of you, Mirabel.”

“As am I,” said Alma behind them.

Before Mirabel could respond, the tiles moved them again, grouping the whole family together for a photo, only to prank them at the last second by throwing everyone askew. That picture would become a favorite.

The party carried on. Even though Bruno had grown more or less accustomed to the villagers, he still wouldn’t call himself a mingler. He found a dimly-lit corner in which to watch people and share snacks with Chato and Pecosita. From time to time, a member of his family would notice he was there and come check on him, and he assured them he was fine. And he was fine. He was happy to see his hermanas and sobrinos enjoying their Gifts.

As for his own … Julieta was right. A lot of things had changed. Just because he could see the future again didn’t mean that it was the only thing he could be known for.

The storytime kids, as he’d come to think of them, found him. “Are you able to do the spooky glowing green eyes again?” Juancho wanted to know.

“If I have a vision, yeah. But I can’t really do one here.”

“If you have a what?”

“A vision. If I look into the future.”

“YOU CAN LOOK INTO THE FUTURE?!”

“... Yes? Did you think my Gift was just glowing green eyes?”

“Well, you said Camilo made up all that other stuff, so, yeah.”

Alejandra elbowed him. “Didn’t you listen to Mirabel? She said he could see the future. You can trust her.”

“Will you still tell us stories?” Cecilia asked. “Even though the house is finished?”

“Actually, I’ve been making plans abAAAUGH!””

A tall, sinister figure loomed in the dim light,  wide grin and glowing green eyes prominent. “What’s this I hear?” the figure asked in a deranged voice. “Juancho doesn’t believe in my power?”

“Hi Camilo!” Cecilia said brightly.

Sighing, the caricature of Bruno shifted into Camilo. “You could at least pretend to be scared.”

“You’re both storytellers. The two of you should tell stories together!” Alejandra suggested.

“Well,” Bruno said slowly. “If Camilo wants in on the secret project I’m working on, we just might.”

Camilo raised an eyebrow. “Secret project, you say?”

A few days later, Bruno brought Mirabel and Antonio in on the idea as well.

“Tiny … little … tiny little adorable rat costumes?” Mirabel sputtered, her eyes shining with glee. Abruptly, she ran out of Bruno’s room.

Bruno blinked in confusion as he watched her go. “... And I was hoping you, Antonio, could help communicate to the rats the more complicated things we want them to do. Like if, say, Camilo came up with a dance for them.”

Antonio nodded. “I can do that.” He hopped into his brother’s lap. “We’re a team!”

“So what I’m hearing,” Camilo said to Bruno, while giving Antonio a tickle, “is that you want me to direct.”

“Eventually, maybe,” Bruno conceded. “You have several qualities that could be helpful. So I think for now, stage manager might be the best job for you.”

“Stage manager? I could direct and act, but I don’t think I could be a stage manager and act.”

“It’s rat theater. The rats do the acting.”

“Oh.” That was a clearly disappointed Oh.

“Although …” Bruno pondered. “What if we picked a classic tale. All the roles played by rats -- except! For one character, which will be played by a human. The audience will love it. The juxtaposition of man and beast.”

Camilo grinned. “Will I get to sing?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know if it’ll be you in the role. We’ll see how you do in the audition.”

Camilo clutched at his heart. “Oh, Tío! You wound me! How could you do this to your own flesh and blood?”

Antonio giggled.

“You’re definitely not getting the role like that. That was way over the top, even for comedy. C’mon, I haven't even chosen the story yet, let alone the character. You might not be right for the part.”

“Right for the part? I can look. Like literally. Anybody. ” He shifted into his abuela.

“But can you act like anybody?”

“I’ll have you know my very first role was Christ himself!” He shifted again, into a serene and holy figure. How’d he manage that nimbus?

“That was a nativity play. You didn’t have this ‘pass out the loaves and fishes’ look. You were still in your mamá’s belly, while she played the role of Maria.”

“It still counts!”

“You were part of a costume!”

Camilo fixed Bruno with what was apparently his best steely gaze. “I’ll get that role. Just you watch me, old man.”

“Hey, that was pretty good. You might have a chance.”

He brightened. “Really?”

“Don’t call me, kid. I’ll call you.”

Mirabel came back in, carrying a notebook and a small basket. She halted mid-step when she saw what was before her. “Why is Camilo Jesus?”

From Camilo’s lap, Antonio shrugged, toying with the bucket. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Mirabel sat down among them as Camilo reverted to himself. “I’m ready to take notes and measurements for costumes. Hmm, any ideas on how to make a rat-sized dress form?” Everyone looked blank. “Eh, never mind, I’ll figure something out.”

Patient Pecosita was recommended to serve as model. While Mirabel unfurled her tape measure, Bruno told the kids more of his thoughts. A remodeled dollhouse might suffice; otherwise, he had other ideas for how sets might be constructed.

“Ay, more building,” Camilo grumbled.

“Before I start making costumes,” Mirabel said, “I’m going to need to know … well, what costumes to make. What play are we doing?”

“That’s … a good question.”

“We should ask the rats what kind of play they want to do,” Antonio suggested.

“... I’m certainly open to hearing their opinions.” Rats had artistic preferences?

“Pecosita says Torbellino is a great acrobat, and Tesoro would make a wonderful star performer.”

Bruno nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Torpe wants to do his own stunts.”

“Absolutely not. That would be like asking Agustín to make friends with bees.”

Antonio’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a great idea! I’ll go talk to them.” He hurried from the room.

As the door closed, Mirabel and Camilo looked at each other and snickered. After a moment, Bruno cracked a smile, too. As eager as he was to make this vision -- er, idea -- a reality, the truth was there was no rush. Nothing to worry about.

Not yet, anyway.

That evening, Bruno was cornered by his three eldest sobrinas. “You weren’t going to leave us out, were you?” Isabela asked, her arms folded.

“Leave you out? Of what, my will? I don’t really have anything.”

“I heard everything, Tío,” Dolores said. “Your big plans?”

Oh. Mariano had been sworn to secrecy. Dolores had not.

“Well, I … well, I just didn’t think you guys would be interested.”

Luisa looked hurt.

“I mean, because you’re adults! And this is rat theater! Silly Tío Bruno’s silly little rat theater.”

“We know it’s silly,” Luisa said. Her eyes widened. “That is! I don’t think any of us expected it to be serious. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t still be a fun thing to do. As a family.”

“Besides,” Dolores said, “Isabela’s got an idea for an addition to the show that we don’t think you’re going to be able to pass up. Why don’t you show him?”

Isabela unfolded her arms and, with a deeply smug look, opened her hands.

“Those are potatoes,” Bruno pointed out.

Isabela began humming. It was an old song, a lullaby. Were the potatoes … were the potatoes moving? At first it was hard to tell, but yes. They rocked back and forth, eventually standing on end. Bruno saw now that what looked like irregularities were vestigial limbs. Each had an indentation that indicated a mouth. And yes -- the potatoes had eyes.

The two potatoes, too, began to sing, in a wordless babble, harmonizing with Isabela. Tottering on their tiny legs. Waving their little arms. Bruno stared at them, mouth agape.

Isabela reached the end of the song, and the potatoes turned and waved to each other.

“Now, I realize they might not look like much. But I’m working on some costumes for them. Something simple, since I know Mirabel will be making rat costumes for you. Hats and ponchos, I thought.”

“Might not … did you just … did you just say they might not look like much?”

“There’s a purple one, too, but,” Isabela shook her head, “it can’t carry a tune.”

“So?” Dolores prompted. “Are they in?”

“Are we in?” Luisa added.

The potatoes, they agreed, would perform the opening act. Bruno wasn’t sure anything he could come up with had any business following singing potatoes, but their performance was too brief to go second. Isabela busied herself training her potatoes and fashioning their clothes. Luisa joined the writing team. Dolores didn’t write much, but she gave excellent feedback, and proved so good at keeping up with everything that Camilo happily gave her his stage manager duties.

Now there was no keeping the project a secret, and soon Félix approached Bruno with an idea for a comedy piece that pitted himself on trombone against Agustín on piano. “You could put us right after intermission,” he suggested. “We’ll get people back in their seats.”

“I suppose that would work, assuming that the play turns out to be a comedy.”

Félix looked across the room at his older son, who loomed over half a dozen rats, doing his very best hammy villain. The rats ignored him in favor of the younger son, who was guiding one rat through performing a pratfall. Nearby, the sentient potatoes had requisitioned Bruno’s bucket for a bath. He clapped his cuñado on the shoulder. “Bro, I sure hope it is.”

Which brought Bruno back to the script. Which wasn’t quite a script just yet, more a collection of vague ideas. Luisa had petitioned for sword fights and unicorns. Camilo insisted there should be a werewolf somewhere. (“Why a werewolf?” Bruno had asked. “Because some kid heard I was a shapeshifter and thought that meant I was a werewolf. I thought it was funny.”) As for Bruno, he’d secretly hoped there might be room for hot air balloon pirates and adventure on the Nile. And as Dolores swept by, she requested some telenovela-style scandalous romance.

“The warrior princess rides in on her unicorn and rescues the mummy from the werewolf?” Bruno asked, trying to get it straight.

“No, she rescues the werewolf from the pirates,” Luisa explained. “And they have a sword fight.”

“Then the princess and the werewolf fall in love, of course,” Camilo added.

“And it’s a scandal because it’s forbidden to love a werewolf?” Dolores asked.

“I think the twist should be that when the werewolf returns to human form, it turns out she’s a woman,” Isabela offered.

“Oh, even better.”

“Why would it be wrong to love a werewolf?” Antonio asked. “As long as she’s not mean. I bet she’d be nice and soft to hug.”

“She might even play fetch,” Mirabel said. “No? What, is that too silly?”

“Where did the mummy come in, then?” Bruno murmured, scanning the pages. “And did Hernando and Jorge just disappear after scene six?” He was sure there was a scene in Act 2 where Hernando was mistaken for a famous wizard, while Jorge disguised himself as a cactus.

After a few days, word began to spread that the Madrigals were planning a big show. Bruno accepted that the secret was out. He did insist, however, that the potatoes remain a secret. Isabela agreed.

“You may have a little problem, hermanito,” Pepa said, stepping gingerly around all the props and pieces spread around Bruno’s room.

“What?” Bruno looked up from the background he was working on, a smudge of paint on his cheek.

“I’ve been talking to people, and I’m pretty sure literally everybody in the village plans on attending your show.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Mirabel asked, sewing a tiny button onto a tiny coat.

“Not if they all want to see what’s going on,” Bruno said, realizing. “Most of our performers are rats! Or potatoes!”

Camilo smiled. “Not to worry, Tío! I’ve got the solution to all your problems. If you’ll follow me.”

Bruno, puzzled, kept his peace as Camilo led him around the upper walkway. “It does mean a change of venue, but I’m just the kind of guy who would donate his own room to the cause.”

When Camilo was five, his magic room had come into being as a theater, and from what Bruno could see, this was still the case after the rebuilding. This wasn’t going to help the problem at hand.

But wait, there was something new, something like a large closet behind the last row of seats. Camilo opened the door, and with a bow, gestured Bruno inside. A light came on. There was a tall tripod in the middle of the room, and mounted atop it, what must be a kind of camera. There were other strange machines in the room as well.

“So these devices are how your future boxes with windows get their instant pictures.” Camilo explained as he started fiddling with switches.

“But we don’t have electricity in the Encanto.”

Camilo shrugged. “Magic house.” He pressed a button on the camera. “Look.”

The control room had a large window that faced the stage. Looking through it, Bruno saw that there was now a large screen hanging in the back, displaying an enlarged image of the proscenium curtains.

“Camilo, I think you’ve saved the day.”

“Well, you know what they say. The show must go on.”

The night of the show arrived. Casita was full of images of butterflies, and Bruno’s stomach was full of metaphorical ones. Clinging to his bucket, he kept peeking out from the wings. In the front row, he spotted the seven kids who had kept asking him for stories, and, as promised, Mariano. Every other seat was full as well. Julieta and Pepa stood at the heads of the aisles, acting as ushers. In the control room, of all people, was Mamá, who had reminded them that she knew her way around an old-fashioned camera. All she needed was someone to show her how to use these new machines. To her credit, she seemed to take to it well.

Everyone else was backstage. Antonio gave the rats a pep talk as Mirabel got them dressed. Félix and Agustín, staying close to their instruments, went over their routine one more time. Likewise, Luisa and Camilo ran through their lines -- as Luisa would be taking on the role of the warrior princess, while Camilo portrayed the pirate captain. (The rats’ attempts at swordplay had been unsuccessful.)

Isabela dressed her potatoes -- in very rustic garments, as she’d indicated -- and complimented Mirabel on her handiwork. “I don’t know how you do it. Your costumes turned out great!”

“Oh … thanks, Isa.” Mirabel might have blushed a little. “The truth is, I made a prototype for each one first.”

Dolores appeared next to Bruno. “I’m not sure a heart rate that fast is healthy in a man your age.”

“What? My age?” Bruno sputtered. “Betrayal!”

She giggled. “But I got you thinking about something else, didn’t I?” She moved on to Félix. “Abuela says she’s ready when you are.”

Félix had graciously agreed to act as the host of the show. His voice could easily cut through the pre-show chatter, and his cheer was infectious. He welcomed the audience to “the Triumphant Return of Madrigal’s Marvelous Rat Theater,” thanked them for coming, and thanked them for all they had done to help the Madrigals after Casita collapsed. He invited them to give themselves a round of applause. Smart.

“And now, without further ado, our first performance of the night: our angel, Isabela!”

Isabela, in her boldest, most colorful dress yet, squared her shoulders and pushed forward a wheeled table covered in bold, colorful tropical plants. The potatoes sat, momentarily inert, in the center. She disappeared to the other side of the curtain.

Bruno held his breath and crossed his fingers as Isabela began to hum. The gasps from throughout the audience told him that at least the vegetables were showing up on the screen. He listened to their high, eerie voices performing even more complicated harmonies than those he’d first heard from them. Isabela introduced each of the potatoes by name and talked a little about how they’d come about by happy accident. This was followed by two more songs before she left the stage, followed by cheers and whistles and deafening applause.

Isabela let out an excited little scream as she returned to the backstage area. “That was amazing!”

“And now for our main event,” Félix announced, “a new play: ‘The Moon Over the Nile.’”

“Break a leg!” Camilo said, as everyone took their positions. Bruno made sure to knock on wood in response.

As the curtains opened, revealing the set, only Luisa remained on stage, saluting with her sword. The play began as the warrior princess encountered the legendary duo, heroic Hernando and his faithful sidekick, Jorge, played by rats (but both voiced by Bruno).

Bruno had been a little worried that Camilo would be upset over not getting the lead role. But the boy had insisted that playing the villain was more fun, plus he loved the song that went with it. Not to mention, he got to ride around in the hot air balloon prop.

As the scenes went on, Bruno found himself wishing, just a little bit, that he’d given himself a role on stage. The kids were clearly having the time of their lives. But … while people treated him differently now than they had before his disappearance, he wasn’t sure the Encanto was ready to embrace him as an actor. If they enjoyed his show, whether or not they realized he’d been the driving force behind it, that should be enough, right?

Now came the intermission. Bruno stopped by the control room to check in with his mother. “It’s going well,” she told him. “This camera, it focuses itself. All I have to do is point it in the right direction.” She noticed what her son had in his hand. “What is that bucket for?”

“Oh, this? Well, it’s um … it’s just … You know what, I don’t actually need it.”

Alma shrugged. “You could set it there by the door, then. Out of the way.”

Bruno did so, and then returned backstage to try to relax for a few minutes.

Time was nearing for the next performance. Félix held his trombone at the ready, but where was Agustín?

Dolores had the answer, of course. She came running up with it. “Tío Agustín went into the control room and tripped over a bucket. He broke his --”

Leg?

“-- nose. Tía Julieta got him healed, but they needed to clean him up a bit.”

“Okay, then we’re just a little delayed. Not the worst thing that could happen.”

“When he tripped, he knocked over the camera. It’s completely destroyed.”

“The camera? The camera that lets us project our tiny little actors onto the screen so people can actually see them? The big dance number is in this half!” He bent over, pressing his hand to the wall, and hyperventilated.

“Tío?” It was Mirabel. “I think there might still be a way we can save this.”

“What?”

“I’ll be right back!”

Agustín appeared, cringing with regret, and his act with Félix began. If the piano playing was a little off, at least they were able to pretend it was part of the comedy of the piece.

Mirabel returned, her arms laden with clothing. “These are the prototypes I made of the rat costumes,” she explained.

“These are … actual, human-sized costumes.”

“Yeah. Well, I never figured out how to visualize a costume for a rat before seeing what it would look like as a human costume.”

Bruno laughed in disbelief. “And you didn’t just draw them?”

“This way I had a three-dimensional view. Anyway, I was already making Camilo and Luisa’s costumes, so …”

Bruno looked around. All his sobrinos were staring at him. “Okay, Mirabel, you’re wizard Hernando. Isabela, you’re cactus Jorge.” He handed them the outfits.

The sisters looked at each other and laughed.

“Dolores … the mummy is a non-speaking role, so you don’t have to worry about projecting your voice.”

“Perfect. Ooh, nice headdress.”

“Can I be a pirate with Camilo?” Antonio asked.

“Aww, hermanito …” his brother began.

“I want to ride in the hot air balloon!”

Camilo deflated.

“You’ll have to make do with your own trousers, pequeño, but here’s a pirate hat and jacket.”

“What about the werewolf?” Luisa asked. “I still need a werewolf to rescue!”

Ah. Yes, Bruno had thought he’d felt something furry at the bottom of the pile of costumes.

“Camilo? You wanna prove that kid right?”

“Nah, it’s all yours, Tío!”

“Isabela? It’s your song.”

“How could I pass up cactus Jorge?”

“But the werewolf …” He looked at Luisa.

“Don’t worry, Tío, I can lift you just as easily as the rat.”

“No, I know that. I was just thinking about the duet.” The song had been written for Isabela’s voice. Bruno wasn’t sure he could pull it off. But as for the mask … that, he would have to pull off.

But there was no time for doubt. Félix and Agustín were near the end of their act. It did seem to be going well, with the audience laughing in all the right places. Bruno pulled on the werewolf costume. “Here goes nothing.”

“My friends,” Félix announced, “in Act 2, the roles previously played by rats will be taken over by their understudies. We return to ‘The Moon Over the Nile.”

Swords clashed. Chashes ensued. Mysteries unraveled. The big dance number went off without a hitch, primarily thanks to Dolores. Camilo milked his villainous reprise for all it was worth. Mirabel’s Hernando was a surprisingly good imitation of Bruno’s. Isabela’s Jorge sprouted extra cacti, which earned her laughs, though Antonio’s ad libs got more. Luisa really did haul Bruno around with surprising ease.

Then came the duet, “When the Moon Disappears in the West,” in which the werewolf’s human face was revealed in the second verse. There were gasps from the audience. Were they negative gasps, or just surprised ones? But at the end of the song, Bruno and Luisa received a standing ovation.

Bruno stared toward the audience, straining, unsuccessfully, to see against the stage lights. Was that applause really for him? Well, it was for Luisa, mostly, surely. But nobody was booing or throwing things at him. Not a single wayward guava churro in sight.

The rest of the play was a blur, until the curtain call. Bruno was the last to be called, and Félix sure was taking his time with it, laying on superlatives like “the man who made it all possible,” “the creative genius” and “one of my favorite cuñados.”

As he stepped through the curtain, Bruno wished he had his bucket to fidget with. It had tripped Agustín, true, but it had also protected Bruno when he’d had to plunge headfirst through the wall of the collapsing Casita. The bucket was a two-edged sword.

Isabela draped a garland of flowers over Bruno’s shoulders. He took his bow. The applause did not stop. This was … this was for him. Actually for him. The whole village was here, and they could see Bruno as something else besides a bad luck prophet.

And so could he.