#my ancient three years old art

[femurs-vectivus]

*gestures * dramatic introduction of the Lord of the Dead Darth Imperius, esteemed Dark Council member, rumoured soul collector, demise of the Eternal Emperor, former slave who was 19 when he learned how to read and now tries to make all his friends join in on his crippling death stick addiction. Disappeared one day under mysterious circumstances* (*got killed by a rock to his head while alone in a cave.)

[spotsupstuff]

day 10

bonus:

[alithographica]

As promised, welcome to

Fun biology in TOTK’s designs

I'll keep this post updated as I go through the game. I'm going to skip the more general identifiable things like apples (they're based on apples!) because there are tons of more unusual species to talk about.

Overall, the really interesting thing I've noticed is that many of the more unique Earth-based lifeforms in TOTK are super ancient, like predating dinosaurs ancient, which is a really cool tie-in to the overall time-hopping plotline of TOTK. Specifically, they're found in the new areas (caves, depths) while the surface remains a bit more normal.

(There will be no plot spoilers in this post, and also I've barely gotten into the plot because I'm spending all my time wandering, so shhh no spoilers in the tags for like a month please.)

Most recent additions: More lilies, irises, wild ginger, spiny bones, pigeon extravaganza, plus added some more real photo comparisons to old stuff.

PLANTS

Bryophytes my beloved. Bryophytes are among the earliest land plants, waaaay predating flowers and even seeds. In our world, they’re small by necessity—they lack vascular systems to help move water around like other plants, so they have to stay small and moist (hence their frequency in caves in TOTK—though they do need some light in real life.)

In TOTK they’re quite large and I think that’s very sexy and art directors should give us big bryophytes more often

Anyway, there are three types of bryophytes: mosses, liverworts, and hornworts. First image pair is a moss, second is a liverwort. Those red-brown and palm-tree-like structures, respectively, are their reproductive structures.

Real liverwort photo © Graham Calow, NatureSpotUK

Not yet spotted: Hornworts! Did they forget the third bryophyte sister :(

I think these next guys are probably lycopods (specifically club moss, which is not a true bryophyte moss, thanks science.) Very old, but vascular, so they're a bit more evolutionarily recent than bryophytes.

Real photo © Gloria Hanley Schoenholtz, virginiawildflowers

All the enormous curly-topped trees in the depths: Ferns! They curl like that until they unfurl. Another very old plant, though younger than bryophytes and lycopods.

Real photo via The Cosmonaut, Wikipedia

Brightblooms and some of the other giant plants in the depths: Possibly based on a cycad? Again, a very ancient plant lineage. At this point, evolutionarily, they've developed seeds—that giant cone in the center is called a strobilus, and that's the seed structure.

These next few plants are angiosperms, meaning they produce flowers. Angiosperms are a more recent evolutionary lineage—still many millions of years old, but it took a while to develop flowers as a reproductive tactic.

Sundelions (left) are a fun recolor of a lily. There are also some scenery lilies (right) in various places—there are yellow ones that spring up when you turn on a lightroot (which gives them literal and thematic connection to the surface) and several other varieties, including tiger lilies, throughout Hyrule. Fun note, the sundelions appear to only have 5 stamen, while other lilies in the game (correctly) have 6. Seems to be an intentional decision to make it a more distinct fantasy species.

These next ones are Peruvian lilies/Alstroemeria, just used as a scenery plant but a very fun inclusion. Fun fact, not true lilies, so they're not deadly to cats like true lilies are.

Real photo © Dick Culbert, Wikipedia

Plum trees: These are also called out as plum trees in game! There's a journal in Kakariko that refers to the plum orchards.

Okay I'm a little proud of figuring this one out. Bomb flowers blend a few botanical references. Superficially, the fruit resembles a type of seed pod called a capsule—specifically it's very similar to a poppy capsule. The little red thing in the center is a nice addition to resemble both a flower stigma (reproductive part that leads to the ovary) and a bomb fuse. Now, poppy capsules disperse their seeds via wind, but there are other plants who do explode their seeds outwards as a dispersal tactic! This is called explosive dehiscence.

There is one tree in particular called the sandbox tree, AKA monkey-no-climb or dynamite tree (yes, really.) Their capsules look more like little pumpkins, but are known for violently exploding when ripe—they can launch seeds at 150 miles per hour (250 km/h) and spread them roughly 200 feet (60 m) away. The photo comparison is a poppy capsule but you should def go look up dynamite tree videos.

Real photo © PommeGrenade, pixabay

Fire fruits (and the other elemental fruits) grow on the same generic plant that looks kind of like it has grape leaves. Fire fruits resemble a specific botanical thing too though—the black netting is a papery calyx (part of the flower) seen in a nightshade genus, Physalis (golden berries, tomatillos, etc.)

Real photo © Helene Rogers, Alamy

I think this stuff is an Asarum, AKA wild ginger. I was actually puzzling over it until I walked past some today and went HEY

Not sure of the exact species but they're very green and heart-shaped and love being dense and low to the ground.

Real photo via David Stang, Wikipedia

Irises: Love irises, one of my favorite flowers and words, very happy to see them in game.

MISCELLANEA

Cup lichen! Lichen is not a plant, but a symbiotic structure of an algae + a fungi. Cup lichen is just a type of lichen formation that has a kind of vertical cup-like structure.

Real photo via Bernard Spragg

Geology crossover! Go look carefully at some of the whiter walls in the depths—they look like they have fossils of coral and other undersea hard-structured animals in them.

ANIMALS

Sticky lizards: Based on Diplocaulus, a very early (now extinct) amphibian! Their skulls are wacky. We're not sure whether the long sides stood out separately or were smoothly connected to the body by skin flaps, but the separate arrow-like shape is the most popular rendition.

Deep firefly: Might be a stretch because it could just be a multi-winged fantasy critter, but I think the "wings" and antennae are very reminiscent of Anomalocaris, an ancient aquatic arthropod.

Update: Other folks in the notes/tags have pointed out that they're probably based on a cryptid that's especially popular in Japan: skyfish AKA rods! They show up in photos and people think they're an alien lifeform. In reality, they're an optical blur created when a lower quality video captures intermittent flaps of an insect's wings, leaving sort of a many-winged smear in the photo. Thanks to all who left info!

Little frox: Another stretch because it totally could just be a Hinox-like frog, but every time I see the little ones I can't help but think of like...Ichthyostega, Mastodonsaurus, Eryops, and other early amphibians. They were pretty hefty—little frox size or bigger—and had with little waddling legs. This is less "I think it's definitely this" and more "it makes me happy when I picture frox as primitive amphibians."

I haven't detailed many of the scenery animals around Hyrule because most are identifiable with the camera function—it'll tell you that a certain animal is a heron or porgy, for example, and those groups are real, even though the exact species is made up. But I think the pigeons are fun because they're all crested pigeons. Pink-necked green pigeons may have also been the inspiration for the color palettes on the wood and rainbow pigeons.

Both pigeon photos via JJ Harrison, Wikipedia

Spiny bones: Not a specific critter, but those spiny bones that you can find lying around Eldin Canyon are vertebrae—possibly from the same thing that left those big rib cages around? The top spike is the spinous process where muscles attach, the littler spikes on the side are the transverse and articular processes. The dark O in the center is the spinal cord.

Also I made a friend who finally recognizes my purpose in Hyrule.

That's all I've got for now! Will add more as I keep playing.

[formulawolff]

the (not so subtle) art of a crush - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 777

warnings: toto being down bad, some teasing, sexual innuendos, one-sided yearning, yadayadayada

a/n: this was a request made by an anon (i believe!) this is also sort of a spin-off of fanboy behavior, which i absolutely adored writing. i think yearning (and well.. down bad) toto is my favorite toto to write! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"and tell me," the driver's accent is crisp as he licks his lips, "why do you need help creating an instagram account again?"

"nothing major," a figure shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread in his wrinkled white polo, "i just want to stay in the loop. that's all."

"toto," a new voice chimes in, "you have never once mentioned wanting an instagram, or any social media really, until now. what is going on?"

"nothing major," toto wolff exhales, rolling his eyes, "you all have it, so why can't i?"

"because you're ancient?" lewis hamilton scoffs, arching a brow, "you're probably going to need a step-by-step tutorial on how to navigate the platform."

"i think i can figure that one out myself you know," toto hisses, jaw clenching as his drivers stare blankly, "if five year-olds can do it, i can do it."

"let me see your phone," george russell extends an arm, waving his fingers, "i'll get your account set up."

"i-i," the team principal stammers, heat billowing into his cheeks, "i-i don't know if i necessarily need help with that."

"are you blushing?" lewis purses his lips, a devious smirk forming as the dots connect, "mate, do you have something in there that you don't want us to see?"

only approximately one hundred and two screenshots of a certain williams driver. three or four videos. all of which were screen recordings from various interviews.

his cherished clips. ones he watched every night before he drifted off.

all of which were not tucked away into the hidden folder of his camera roll.

speaking of which, he may have to figure out how to do that. with three kids, an ex-wife, and two nosy drivers, his phone was an easy target. he probably needed to set up a passcode as well.

the lengths he was going to over a crush. a fucking crush.

well, was it a really a crush?

or more like an infatuation?

that was a question for another time. he had two drivers in his office at the moment, circling around him like vultures, eager to pick him apart.

"nothing of your interest," toto retorts, in a vain attempt to maintain his composure, "nothing, really."

"got someone's nudes in there?" lewis coos, tilting his head, "or even worse, a sex tape?"

"lewis," george brings a hand to his temple, "what on earth is wrong with you?"

"what, mate?" lewis throws his hands in the air, "i'm just giving him shit."

"shit he clearly does not want," george mutters, "toto, if you need help setting up an account, just facetime me. don't try to text me. it's much easier to explain over a call than written directions."

"or he can just go on wikihow," lewis offers, "they have guides on just about everything."

oh, really?

did they have a guide on how to navigate the unbearable weight of yearning for a woman thirty years your junior? a woman on a rival team? a crush so bad that it was beginning to snake its way into every aspect of your life? consume your every waking thought?

a crush so intense that you had already spoken to members of the williams crew?

his next target was james, whom he was planning on meeting and speaking with after the next press conference. that was in about a week's time, at third grand prix of the season.

fuck, this was embarrassing, really.

but he wanted more.

actually, he needed more.

he craved it.

he needed to gather all of the possible information and intel as he could. her likes and dislikes. her favorite foods and the ones that were so vile they made her throw up. what kept her up at night. what music she preferred to listen to on race day. what drinks she indulged in. what animals she loved. what made her so unbelievably pissed off she couldn't think straight.

he wanted to catch a glimpse inside of her mind.

all of the things that could possibly buzz around inside of that beautiful head.

really, he just wanted to learn what she was composed of.

her childhood memories, the ones she spoke of with that sweet fondness in her voice. the delicate aspects of her life that she cherished, beaming from ear to ear. the things she feared. how she expressed her love. the people she adored.

everything.

he wanted to know it all.

and following her instagram account, along with her various other socials would prove to be the first step in accessing that plethora of information.

at least it was a step in the right direction.

even if his drivers were giving him hell for it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

@noooway555 @s-awturn @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @lokideservesahug @fore45fore @eattothebeatt @statuewoman @sarah10r-blog @lavenderandlace @racecardilfs @bblouifford @irishmanwhore @jhobi18 @roseandtulips @simply-the-best23

[reticent-writer]

Hiii, can you please write another fic about a teenage reader (16-18) and anybody from hazbin hotel. It can be about anything

HEloooo

Alastor x teen reader platonic

Headcannon by @ghostly-one: "During Alastor's absence, Reader went to the overlord meetings in his place"

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

*knock knock knock*

You heard as you groaned and pushed your head up from your pillow.

"It's me, Y/n." You could hear the radio static through your door, "I have an errand to run and would like for you to join me."

"I'll be down in a minute." You replied as you started to get up.

------

"Oh, boy whats the plan, boss?"

"I like your suits."

"What are the antlers for?"

"Can I touch your ~staff thing~?"

"Are those your ears? or is it your hair? I can't tell."

The egg boiz were annoying the fuck outta you and Alastor. If you knew they would've tagged along, you wouldn't have come even if you were going to an overlord meeting.

"Hark Alastor, Y/n. How fare thee this day." Zestial appeared from nowhere in front of the both of you.

"Good evening Zestial, It's nice to see you again." You greeted with a smile as Alastor quickly threatened the eggs.

"Greetings Zestial." Alastor said as the sinners around you three started to take notice and run.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day."

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon."

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Y/n hast been in thy lodging since thee've been gone." Zestial looked to you with a pleased expression as he patted your shoulder before continuing his conversation with Alastor.

"Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into... Holy arms."

"Hahaha Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical. Nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone of their toes."

"There too hath been rumour of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. TELL ME, how does thou fall in such folly." Zestial would've creeped you out if you weren't used to his (and Alastor's) over-the-top and old-timey ways.

"That is more me to know. But please do guess. I'd love to know the theories."

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm."

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment."

The three of you made it the the building where the meeting would be taking place as you and Zestial stepped into the elevator you waiting for Alastor to tell the eggs to wait for him before pressing the button.

-------

You sat in between Alastor and one of Carmilla's daughters.

"Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of out city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest." Carmilla said matter-of-factly. "Zestial, so good to see you, my friend."

"Enchanted as always Carmilla." He said as he sipped his tea.

Carmilla was about to look around the room when she spotted Alastor. The face that she made nearly made you laugh.

"Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering." Alastor spoke like he'd been waiting 7 years just to say that.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." She dismissed him. You could hear the static abruptly stop and had to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh.

Once the meeting started you zoned out staring at the wall. To be honest you didn't really care about the meetings you were only there to show your face and now that Alastor is back it gave you less of a reason to care, but interesting things did happen quite often.

Like Velvette wanting a war with the exterminators.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Zestial translation: It would be much more foolish to think that I understand how your mind works, Alastor. You have always been a mystery to me ever since you came into this world. (just thought it would be nice to add this.)

@ghostly-one

This is choppy and rushed but parade season is starting soon and I have a lot of performances before then too.

[aquaquadrant]

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing. 

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind��

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…” 

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’. 

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.” 

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop. 

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second. 

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it? 

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

 “... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is. 

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

[kenzirr]

The BAU team gathered in the conference room, their faces a mixture of excitement and curiosity. Spencer Reid, standing in the center, shifted nervously from foot to foot, glancing at his teammates.

"Okay, Reid," Morgan began, crossing his arms. "Tonight's a big night. You've got a date with Y/N, and we want to make sure you don't overwhelm her."

JJ chimed in, smiling encouragingly. "We know you love sharing your knowledge, but try to keep the trivia to a minimum, okay?"

Garcia nodded vigorously. "Just focus on getting to know her. Ask questions, listen, and maybe save the facts for later."

Spencer frowned slightly. "But what if she asks about something I know a lot about? Shouldn't I share what I know?"

Hotch stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Just remember, balance is key. It's great to share your interests, but make sure it's a two-way conversation."

"Got it," Spencer replied, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

Later that evening, Spencer stood outside Y/N's door, taking a deep breath before ringing the bell. When she answered, her bright smile immediately put him at ease.

"Hi, Spencer," Y/N greeted, stepping out and locking the door behind her. "Ready for dinner?"

"Yes," Spencer replied, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

As they walked to the car, Spencer couldn't help but start talking. "Did you know that the probability of two people having the same birthday in a group of 23 is over 50%? It's called the birthday paradox."

Y/N laughed lightly. "Really? That's fascinating."

Encouraged by her response, Spencer continued. "And the restaurant we're going to has a unique history. It was built in 1925 and originally served as a speakeasy during Prohibition."

Throughout the evening, Spencer shared more of his "weird" facts. As they perused the menu, he launched into another. "Did you know that the Caesar salad was actually invented in Tijuana, Mexico, by an Italian-American restaurateur named Caesar Cardini in 1924?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "I had no idea! That's such an interesting fact."

When their appetizers arrived, Spencer pointed out an item on the table. "These oysters are fascinating. Oysters can actually change gender, and they often do so multiple times throughout their lives."

Y/N looked at her plate, then back at Spencer, clearly intrigued. "That's incredible. I never knew that."

Spencer smiled, feeling more at ease. "And did you know that honey is the only food that doesn't spoil? Archaeologists have found pots of honey in ancient Egyptian tombs that are over 3,000 years old and still perfectly edible."

As they enjoyed their main course, Spencer continued with another fact. "The restaurant we're in was part of a historical preservation project. It retains most of its original architecture, which includes elements from the Beaux-Arts movement, characterized by its grandeur and elaborate details."

Y/N looked around, appreciating the intricate designs on the ceiling. "It’s beautiful. You really know a lot about everything, don’t you, Spencer?"

Spencer chuckled nervously. "I just find these things interesting. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, while the third pumps it to the rest of the body."

Y/N smiled, clearly enjoying the conversation. "That's so interesting! Did you know that sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins? They can stay underwater for up to 40 minutes."

Spencer's eyes lit up. "I didn't know that! That's amazing."

As they finished their meal and waited for dessert, Spencer shared one more fact. "And speaking of interesting creatures, did you know that a group of flamingos is called a 'flamboyance'? It's one of my favorite collective nouns."

Y/N laughed, a genuine and delighted sound. "I love that. You're full of surprises, Spencer. And did you know that a bolt of lightning contains enough energy to toast 100,000 slices of bread?"

By the time he walked her back to her door, Spencer felt like he'd shared a part of himself he'd always been hesitant to reveal. Y/N turned to him, smiling warmly.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Spencer," she said. "I'd love to do this again."

"Me too," Spencer replied, his heart racing. "Thank you for listening to my facts. I know they can be a bit much."

Y/N shook her head. "Not at all. They're part of what makes you unique, and I wouldn't change a thing."

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, a brief but sweet gesture that left Spencer blushing and smiling.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the BAU office, a noticeable spring in his step. The team looked up as he approached, their curiosity evident.

"So, how'd it go, pretty boy?" Morgan asked, grinning.

Spencer beamed. "It was amazing. Y/N loved my facts. We talked about everything from the birthday paradox to the history of the restaurant. She even shared some of her own facts. Did you know that sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins? They can stay underwater for up to 40 minutes!"

Garcia clapped her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful! I knew she'd appreciate your unique charm."

JJ smiled. "I'm so glad to hear it went well, Spencer. It sounds like you both had a great time."

Hotch nodded approvingly. "It sounds like you found someone who appreciates you for who you are."

Spencer nodded, his face glowing with happiness. "And when I dropped her off, she kissed me. It was... perfect."

The team exchanged pleased looks, and Morgan gave Spencer a pat on the back. "Sounds like a keeper, Reid. We're happy for you."

As Spencer settled into his desk, he couldn't help but replay the evening in his mind.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 2

Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Looking for information on Klaus, you find your brother in the library and run into another handsome stranger.

Warnings: Sexual Tension, Dark Themes, Dante's Inferno, The Phantom of the Opera, Literary References, Delicate Touches

Word Count: 2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

You spent the next few days staring at the number written on your palm, the name ‘Klaus’ scribbled beneath it as the ink slowly began to fade with each wash. Putting the number into your phone for safe keeping, you continually fought the urge to call him and take him up on his tantalizingly generous offer. Just to be safe, though, you asked your brother to look up any information he could find on this playboy billionaire philanthropist, but he wasn’t answering his phone, which wasn’t like him. This either meant that he was buried in casework, that he was purposefully ignoring you, or something way worse.

You decide to go to the library and check his most likely location.

“Shit, sorry.” Austin looks at his phone to see your three missed calls and four text messages after uncovering it from his scattered papers on the library’s study desk. “I should have told you I couldn’t make it to your art show the other day, but Allan’s really kicking my ass with this one.” Your brother hurriedly takes the cup of coffee that you brought him, the bags beneath his eyes growing darker by the minute. “I really do plan on going to see it, I promise I will as soon as this case is over.”

Law school had really put your brother through the ringer, draining him of the light that used to shine bright within him. He’d said that once school was over, things would be better, but you’ll believe it when you see it.

“No, I get it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay when you didn’t respond. And you know what they say: ‘It can be pretty dangerous in the city after dark’.” You nudge him in the side, repeating one of his favorite phrases back to him in a mocking tone.

“Hey, I mean it when I say that!” He shouts in a defensive whisper, taking a sip of coffee with a grateful sigh. “If only I could show you half of the stuff I see at work without getting fired, I would…”

“I know, you’re just looking after me.” You ruffle his hair affectionately as you assess his messy work station. “You hungry or what?”

He rifles through his papers as if he’s lost something very near and dear to him, the crinkling sound seeming to drive him even more insane than anything. “Give me… forty-five minutes and we can get something to eat? Thai food?” He looks up at you, exasperated by the state of his workload.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “Forty-five minutes, and not a minute more!”

You turn away and leave him to his madness, silently exiting the most boring part of the library, walking through the science fiction and mystery sections in order to get to your favorite part; the horror section. You stroll through the alphabetized authors of terror, skimming past dozens of Stephen King novels before pulling out one of your favorites that had inspired a handful of adaptations over the years, all of them successfully paying it due homage. You’ve read it more times than you can even count, having collected a slew of copies of it at home, but none of them like this.

You admire the intricate cover of the hardback, smiling at the familiar sight of the white mask and red rose before tucking the tome lovingly into your chest. Knowing that the next forty-five minutes will surely fly by now, you turn down the aisle to find a quiet place to read, only to bump into a man you hadn’t seen there before.

He’s dressed in a three piece suit seemingly cut out of shadow and sin as an ancient aura surrounds him, almost as if he were as old as the city itself. His face, in turn, is just as timeless, reminding you of the old black and white Cary Grant movies you used to watch with your grandmother before she passed. Only he’s here now in living color, and it takes everything you have just to stop staring as a chill runs down your spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper shakily.

“Apologies are all mine,” his voice is deep and refined as he steps into your space, carefully placing the book back in its spot directly in front of you. “I wouldn’t want to create more work for the librarian.”

“This coming from someone reading Dante’s Inferno?” You finally say to break your awkward silence, noticing the famous title as he pushes it all the way in. “That’s a pretty heavy read for a Thursday night.”

He smiles with a low chuckle, eyes black as night glancing down at you before he deflects the attention away from himself. “And the Phantom of the Opera is such a light hearted story.”

“I find it comforting and romantic.” You defend the book in your arms with a grin.

“Is that so?” He tilts his head, taking the book from you without a hint of remorse before tracing the raised letters on the cover, almost as if to memorize the feel of them. “Two lovers obsessing over one incredibly talented beautiful woman? One driven mad with obsessive infatuation while the other truly has her best interest at heart?”

“So, you’ve read it?” You joke, noting the underlying bitterness in his tone despite his charming smile. This story’s personal to him, just like it is for you.

“Several times, yes.” He turns toward you, flicking through the pages as if he’s able to read them at superhuman speed. “Leroux really did know how to set the scene, didn’t he? A beautiful French city always seems to make it easier to fall in love.”

“Is that a fact?” You attempt to play it cool as he speaks so fondly of one of your favorite authors, drawing you in a little closer as he speaks.

“It’s a common literary device used in countless classics throughout the centuries, but I’m sure you already knew that.” He pauses, the dim lighting of the library making his dark eyes seem less imposing, almost sparkling as they look you over before scanning through the pages one more time. “Or maybe it’s the drama you prefer, the constant danger, the countless brushes with death that make you feel more alive than ever? Making the romance that much more palpable than if it were against any other monotonous backdrop?”

Jesus, is it written all over your face that you like a little bit of darkness with your romance? Is there a sign on your forehead that reads… What did the other man call you? Ah yes, ‘morbidly disturbed’? Was it so glaringly evident that you moved to this city to relish in the black magic you’ve heard so much about? Or maybe everyone else here is just as crazy as you are, no matter how elegant and put together they may seem.

“A little bit of both.” You decide to lean into the madness, slowly brushing your fingertips over his hand in order to catch him off guard just long enough to take your book back from him. “But what fun is romance without any stakes? It doesn’t make for a very good story, now does it?”

“I suppose not.” He smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he stares at you, warming you to the idea of opening up a little bit more.

“Or maybe there’s something to say about someone who is so in love that they’re willing to fight for it, willing to kill for that other person because they can’t imagine a world without it, without them.”

He raises his eyebrows as he considers your words, visibly tensing up as he clears his throat and shifts the weight in his hips. “The Phantom doesn’t kill for Christine, he kills despite her. It’s who he is at his very core before he even gets involved with her. He’s a ghost, a phantom, a monster.”

“A monster capable of love and empathy after he’s finally shown that in return.” You counter, now unsure if you came away with the correct message from the book.

“Ah, a truly hopeless romantic.” He grins, licking his lips before speaking again. “I didn’t think they still existed.” His eyes rake over your entire frame, taking in every inch of you as he allows the following silence to remain between you, hovering around you both in a heavy fog as the weight of it nearly takes your breath away.

“But enough about me,” you laugh nervously, changing the subject as you feel your cheeks begin to redden beneath his gaze. “What draws a man like you to The Divine Comedy? Are you the religious type, or are you just trying to figure out which circle of hell you’re doomed to spend eternity in?”

“Oh I already know that answer too well, I’m afraid.” He lets out a long sigh before leaning against the bookshelf. “But Dante’s work can be studied from a more worldly perspective on how the justice system deems their punishments worthy of someone’s crimes.”

“So you’re a lawyer like my brother. That explains the suit.”

He smirks again with a shake of his head, clearly amused by your failed attempt to figure him out.

“Well, a professor certainly wouldn’t get paid enough to wear a jacket or watch as nice as yours, so I think that Dante would place you in the… fourth circle, if memory serves me correctly.”

“A hoarder of wealth? Is that what you think of me?” He laughs, stepping in just close enough so that his smoky scent of cedarwood swims around the both of you, pairing perfectly with the musk of the leather bound books beside you. “And what other assumptions have you already made based on my appearance, young lady?”

Young lady?! Uh oh. Your eyes widen, the muscles in your abdomen tightening as his term of endearment triggers your brain to start trickling oxytocin into your bloodstream.

His answer, however, gives you pause, forcing your eyes to narrow as you take in everything about him. He’s not a lawyer or a professor, but he certainly carries himself like someone of equal or higher importance, like an executive of some major company that you know nothing about. He’s a mystery cloaked in a seductively elegant darkness, and you can’t help but want to get wrapped up in it.

“I ummm…” you trail off, fearing that the dim lighting is doing little to hide the deepening flush of your cheeks right about now. This man is way out of your league, and it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that you’re in uncharted territory.

“Well, as long as we’re going off of first impressions, I’d say you would fall into the first circle with the Greek philosophers… if you qualify at all.” Those onyx eyes seem fixated on you still, dropping down to your neck and chest before glancing back up at your face, spreading that blush up into your ears.

“The virtuous unbaptized?” You try not to laugh, wondering how it was possible that the man yesterday had thought you to be such a dark and tortured soul, while this one paints you as some sort of angel. They were both wrong in their own way, a single thread of truth holding each of their ideals together. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid that the second circle is where my most devious nature starts and stops,” you confess, feeling your heart race as he closes the gap between you.

“The sins of the flesh.” He smirks, clenching his jaw before delicately touching the spine of your book. “Unsurprising. I assume that a beautiful woman such as yourself is provided ample opportunities to get you into trouble there.”

“You assume correctly.” You let your mind wander about what he looks like underneath all those expensive clothes as he leans in further, the top of your book now pressing against his tie as his fingertips graze the back of your knuckles, forcing the hair on the back of your hand to stand on end.

“Alright, I’m done!” Your brother interrupts your conversation as he walks down the aisle, his messy work bag barely hanging off his shoulder when he spots your new friend. “Who the hell is this?”

The man gives you a somber look before clasping both of his hands over yours, finally looking up to address your brother. “Forgive me, it seems that I’ve lost my manners, I’m Elijah.”

[starberry-cupcake]

This is a one chapter update because this chapter was 25 years long and I don't want my post to be also that long, even though you're all being super nice about it (thank you ♥).

previously, in harroweena the ninth:

this happened

now, chapter 6:

harrowbean wakes up and is taken somewhere in a wheelchair

we get no sleep in this ship

we get no face paint, no black robes, no sleep, no security from people who wanna suffocate you in your sleep, no explanations

lyctors need a union

as in unionization, not as in a combination of people, that they did when slurping their cavaliers

the person carrying her is very upset at everyone

turns out, she's a lyctor

her name is mercysomething

we have an ortus 2, a mercysomething and an augustine

harrow mentions eyes again and says that Lyctors "kept their own faces, but the eyes they stole from someone else. You had been lucky that your own transition was not as startling"

Lucky, you say...

I don't know about that

anyway, this mercysomething is supposed to be the saint of joy

I'm assuming lyctors are given their names through the ancient art of sarcasm

on that note

harrow: "if you had not of late become the Saint of Emesis"

me: wait, I gotta look something up real quick

me: yeah, that's funny

mercysomething is angry and in a hurry

a bunch of time is spent with mercysomething being angry and treating people like crap and being unpleasant

she's arguing with everyone she comes across and takes harrow to a hangar

yandere twin is sitting on a crate watching a necromancer make a ward with blood and bleeding to death in the process

harrow sits next to her and they are like sportscasters of blood-painted wards

according to the necrocasters, it's a ghost ward

yandere twin updates harrow on the fact that they're at war and they've been attacked and they're down to three Old Lyctors and two Baby Lyctors

it would explain why mercysomething is upset all the time

mercysomething wants to take the emperor somewhere else and the guy commanding the ship doesn't want to let him leave

emperor guy comes in and kind of does this to mercysomething

yandere twin and I are LIVING for all this pute/salseo/gossip/however you wanna call it

harrow isn't as interested

I complained in gideon because gideon wasn't interested in things I wanted to look into and now I'm gonna complain about harrow not being interested in Drama

emperor the fool says: "I know exactly who is behind this terrible blow, and they were fools to show their hand"

yandere twin and I

when emperor guy sees the necromancer bleeding out he goes "for fuck's sake"

it's a quote, not me being funny ha ha

remember when I said this guy is a mess?

that's becoming exponentially more evident

I want to punch him in the face at all times

I don't know how people can be respectful to this dude

the reason there isn't any face paint for harrow in this ship is that the emperor uses it every morning to paint on his clown face

they've been alive like 1000 years or whatnot and they're all a fucking group project going off the rails

so emperor guy, mercysomething, not!dulcinea (now in a coffin package), yandere twin and harrow get in a ship inside the ship

a smaller ship inside the big ship where the emperor has been for the past bunch of years

the small ship has the blood ward for the ghosts

but, before going in, emperor the fool fixes the necro that's bleeding to death

I honestly think she would have preferred to just die

which, same, if he was my boss

necros also need to unionize

cavaliers more than anyone tbh

if cavaliers unionized, idk if there would be any lyctors

emperor guy and mercysomething argue about people they know and we don't yet know

and mercysomething was telling harrow previously that the former ninth was prettier than her (anastasia, heart don't fail me now, courage don't desert me) and telling yandere twin the former third was prettier than her (cyrus? cyril? something like that)

which, absolutely juvenile behavior for someone who's like a 1000+ years of age or whatever

why would we care who she finds prettier????

ANYWAY, throughout this I was once again thinking

nobody here has G & P initials

it's been driving me mad this whole time

gideon and harrow found that former lyctor quarters

and it said "ONE FLESH, ONE END. G. & P."

that was before the note with gideon's name in it was read

and all this time I was thinking those were a set of necro-cav from the previous lyctors

but nobody here has those initials

the only P is the cavalier of Ortus 2 and there's no G

which is DRIVING ME MAD

if the G is the previous Gideon, the one not!dulcinea mentioned, it would explain why there was a note that mentioned a Gideon in the quarters

it would not, however, explain who the fuck that other gideon is, who P is and why they aren't in the list with the other combos

augustine is a former fifth because his cav's last name is quinque

mercysomething's from the eighth because her cav's last name is oct, and because she's annoying to be around

ortus 2 is from the second, because his cav's last name is dve

cyril cyrus whatev is from the third because the cav is trinit and mercysomething mentioned him to yandere twin, who is from the third

ulysses is from the fourth because the cav is tetra

not!dulcinea is seventh because the cav was heptane and because it was a very important thing in the previous book, as we've established

anastasia (dancing bears, painted wings) is from the ninth because the cav is novenary and she was mentioned to harrow

cassiopeia must be sixth, because it's what I have left, but I don't recognize the root of the last name to make a clear parallel from the top of my head

the emperor's guardian is A.L.

I'm taking note of an emperor's guardian who isn't around anymore

could it be ice cube barbie???? idk fam, she's looking at him a lot

giving me magic knight rayearth vibes again

this but with backstabbing instead of love

ANYWAY, all of this to point out that there's no G & P and it's driving me up the wall

now, to a very important thing

VERY IMPORTANT

for me, maybe it's just me

the enemies or whatever are called "remnants" and their leader apparently has been gone for "nearly 20 years"

this is me desperately making timelines with gideon's mom and gideon's birth and the 2 details I know about gideon's mom and her birth

you know what, I'm gonna quote, since I went to fetch it

"One day eighteen years ago, Gideon's mother had tumbled down the middle of the shaft in the drag chute and a battered hazard suit, like some moth drifting slowly down into the dark. The suit had been out of power for a couple of minutes. The woman landed brain-dead. All the battery power had been sucked away by a bio-container plugged into the suit, the kind you'd carry a transplant limb in, and inside that container was Gideon, only a day old."

I'm gonna just...put a pin on that that in the cork board

I don't know you guys, I'm just gonna

let me pin that

I'm probably being wrong a lot more than what I'm getting right but I'm just telling you what goes through my mind, if I'm making a fool of myself, it's too late to act like I'm not a fool

I am also putting my clown paint on like the emperor

MOVING ON

harrow thinks the emperor talks in plural about her at one point and idk if that's the case tbh

we then get emperor guy explaining how they need to go to their safe space base with a name I can't remember

a fancy name very lord-of-the-rings-y

let's call it emperor's mojo dojo casa house

and to get there as quick as they need to, they have to cut through the River

the one with the ghosties and ghoulies

that's what the ward was for

if they went through regular means, it'd take too long and, doing it this way, they could be there super fast, but they need to get in the River and come out the other way in the right spot

and intact

so it's this situation

so, in order to do that, they have to hold on to their souls and their cav souls and whatever they've got using the skills from the first test

I want to point out, once again, WHO PLANNED CANAAN HOUSE AS A TOOL TO GET LYCTORS TO LEARN THINGS?????

THEY WERE NOT DOING ALL THE TESTS

THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR THE KEYS

SOME DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THERE WERE TESTS TO BEGIN WITH

JUDITH WAS LIVING IN LAW AND ORDER

we didn't even get to all the tests, people started dropping like flies

because the emperor had one loose lyctor who thought she was in a telenovela

ANYWAY

the point is, if they drift too far while crossing the River, something else can come into their bodies

we did learn that, because it happened to duracell bunny nephew back in canaan house

but we learned it because mayonnaise uncle thought he was tough shit and ruined it, not because of the tests

harrow, doing her best, thinks "you felt alone in your head"

WHICH IS GREAT for our gideon notes

also, no camilla mention or appearance in this one

(I'm having a lizzie bennet theme going on for Reasons for the time being)

so, we're leaving harrow and yandere twin trying to learn for the first time how to not die by crossing the River because the emperor plans things terribly and mercysomething is too preoccupied being upset at everything all the time

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Alla Nazimova (A Doll's House, Camille, Salomé)—She was a proud lesbian, she was a director, she was artsy and experimental, she was instrumental in the rise to fame of Rudolph Valentino, she had the worlds biggest strap on energy

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Alla Nazimova:

HOT as hell. GAY as hell. TALENTED as hell. Producer, director, writer, actress. A silent era superstar who is credited with having coined the term "sewing circle" as a code-word for gatherings of lesbian and bisexual women. Has been called "the founding mother of Sapphic Hollywood" and was the owner/operator of the Garden of Alla Hotel in West Hollywood, which she bought in 1919 and sold in 1928 after deciding she wanted to go back to Broadway. In addition to starring opposite Valentino in Camille, she also had an affair with BOTH of his wives (Jean Acker and Natacha Rambova). In her day, she was one of the most influential women in the business.

"Nazimova was primarily a star during the silent film era, and her career in film started when she was almost forty. She was openly bisexual, and was engaged in two lavender marriages during her life while she carried on relationships with women (including at least one, and possibly two, of Rudolph Valentino's wives). She was brilliant and an autodidact - when she first moved to the United States from Ukraine, she spoke no English, but taught herself "in about five months" and went on to work as a screenwriter (among other things). Her predilections lay in art film, and she's credited with starring in / producing / directing one of the first American art films, the adaptation of Oscar Wilde's play Salome (1923). She has an elegant and commanding presence in all of her films, and is an absolute sensation to watch in motion."

Gif link, another gif link

A great actress who also produced a great deal of her films, Nazimova is absolutely mesmerizing to watch. She was also bi and coined the phrase "sewing circle" for sapphic celebrities.

Xia Meng:

[ranticore]

Ok so, what is Inver how can I read it gimmie the sales pitch pspsps pretty please

This is Inver! It is an alternate history northwest Europe

It's a play on the old region of Doggerland; the North-East Atlantic Archipelago* with sea levels reduced by a catastrophic past event that spread parts of the fairy world out into the real world. This Event also wiped out all human life in the area pictured above, leaving it uninhabited for hundreds of years before it was slowly settled again by people from the land bridge to Hibernia, and people coming up from Aquitan

As a result of a war between these two groups of people and subsequent cultural exchange, Inver's dominant culture is a Hiberno-French mixture. Br*tain does not and has never existed.

The Event in Inver's history has still left large swathes of this land uninhabitable, with the only way east blocked by the Ruad, a hostile, labyrinthine, and largely impassible fairy territory. This has stifled the ability of these lands to produce much of value; Inver is a poor country, considered a kind of industrial backwater with a monarchy descended marauding werewolf war clans. This paragraph could last literally forever if I liked (and I did like. that's why there's books)

Inver's Régian Era, roughly equivalent to the Victorian era irl, is the stage for my main book series Moth Viper Foal (#mvf) (links are to the books & the tag on my art blog). It is an era of great change in Inver; much of the capital city is ruled by criminal gangs and a foreign church while the great noble houses, having lost touch with their people, turn on one another for sport. The story follows the sequence of events that ultimately results in catastrophic change for everybody in the region, and the dawn of a new era (that's as vague as i can make it)

But really it's about the (gay) struggles of outgrowing your relationships, setting higher standards for yourself, and all the various ways someone can fail to be a man. Main (POV) characters are three ex-conmen & one DLC extra nobleman. Before the start of the story, a catastrophic argument between two of the guys precedes one of them (Félix) getting kidnapped by the Black Horse, a fairy. He is returned five years later, a servant of the horse, to find that his friends (and ex-friends) have changed completely in his absence, and his old life is done for good.

I'm very bad at summaries so idk really. It's a story about interpersonal drama and friend breakups between some guys and also fairies are there. It's all i think about. Every other setting & post on this blog not about Inver was made as a kind of mental break from thinking about Inver. I've been working on it since 2019

you can check the overall tag to see posts from both my blogs including some very nice art and some absolutely heinous AUs (Pern Story among them??? maybe. idk if i tagged it)

also there's two more stories set in Inver, Ancient Inver which is a telling of the wars that founded the country and also an exploration of Being FTM, and also Modern Inver which is set in the distant future of 2017 and it's a buddy cop/detective thriller about a ranger investigating a series of supernatural kidnappings with the help of the guy who did most of them.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter One

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Unrequited crushes, yearning, questionable science

Summary: Two weeks after the Rift appears, Marcus Pike and the Art Crimes team have been inundated by black market artifacts, and Marcus is more than happy to use this as an excuse to get closer to the curator who is helping them identify the items. Meanwhile, the perpetrators enlist a supervillain to cause a blackout around the Rift in order to steal even more. Hopefully that doesn't cause anything bad to happen!

A/N: We're building toward something big! One thing that I am doing in this fic, for my sanity and for yours, is identify the POV character whenever it changes. I don't usually do this, preferring to rely on narrative, but when three of your characters share the same name, this gets complicated.

Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter>>

(Pike)

Marcus Pike takes the steps to the National Gallery of Art two at a time. At the top, he catches his reflection in one of the large font windows and pauses to attempt to flatten his windswept hair before dashing through the revolving doors. He flashes a smile–and his badge–at the security guard, who recognizes him and nods. Rather than funnel through the ticketing counter with the rest of the guests, Marcus instead ducks through a door labeled ‘MUSEUM STAFF ONLY,’ hops down the stairs–three at a time, this time–and opens another door to the curation department, making a beeline for the now-familiar office.

“I’ve got another one for you,” he announces breathlessly, forgetting to knock.

The occupant startles, sending a novelty coffee mug full of pens and highlighters scattering across the floor. 

“Marcus,” you hiss, pressing one hand over your pounding heart. “Oh my God, you can’t keep doing that!”

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “I, uh, guess I got a little excited.”

“Two thousand year-old artifacts will do that to a man, I guess.” You take in his heaving chest, askew tie, and mussed hair. “Did you… run here?”

Marcus feels heat flush to his cheeks, and he grins sheepishly. Oh, if only he could say that it’s 

not just the startlingly well-preserved bronze comb now sitting in the evidence locker right next to the carefully cataloged Roman coins, ceramic glazed urn, ceremonial dagger, and a scroll of papyrus, all in pristine condition. No, it’s not just the flood of bizarre artifacts suddenly entering the black market that has Marcus’s heart pumping with excitement.

It’s the far-too-cute-for-her-own-good Museum Curator at the National Gallery of Art that has been indispensable in these cases, identifying and verifying the authenticity of each new artifact recovered by him and his team.

“Like you said, ancient artifacts really get the blood flowing,” Marcus grins, daring to chance a wink in your direction. “I dunno if you can really call them ‘artifacts,’ though. Or even ‘ancient.’ Weird times we’re in, right now.”

His thoughts drift to the Rift again–common knowledge, not just in DC but throughout the entire globe now, still less than a month into its existence. Heavily guarded, of course, and entrance is strictly prohibited. Hell, even loitering in the vicinity of the Rift earned Marcus a stern telling-off that even his FBI credentials couldn’t override. He couldn’t get the sight of it out of his mind, though. It was as though the empty space around the Rift simply… broke. Like the universe as he knew it was, and then suddenly was not in the space of around ten feet wide. He tried to look through the hole, through the bit that ‘was not,’ but it was like looking through warped glass. The air itself bent and swirled, and through it he swore he could hear the sound of hooves on cobblestone, snippets of language he had read his fair share of in graduate school but had never heard spoken aloud.

“So you uh… want me to come take a look?” you ask, sounding almost shy.

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

“I’m not running, though, so don’t even try.”

Marcus laughs joyfully. He can’t seem to stop smiling whenever he’s lucky enough to be in your presence, and of late, that means he’s smiling a lot. 

“Walking sounds perfect,” he agrees. “Plus, that was enough cardio for me for the whole week, I think.”

You grin back, and Marcus wonders if you can feel the electricity that seems to descend whenever the two of you banter, or if it’s only him that’s affected. Sounds about right, he muses ruefully to himself. You old sap. Still, the silence stretches out just a beat too long, and it sends his imagination whirling. Coffee dates, long walks through the city, cozy drinks on his sofa oh shit how do you even ask someone out in the age of Tinder–

“Lead the way, Agent,” you smirk, and Marcus feels himself melt.

You click your tongue thoughtfully as you examine the comb. “Bronze, Imperial, I’m gonna guess somewhere around… 500 BCE?”

Marcus whistles through his teeth, impressed. “How do you know that?” 

You pick up one of the coins. “Numismatics. Anyone with a working knowledge of Roman history can place one of these babies within a few decades or so.” You flip it over, revealing the stark profile of the Emperor. “This was around the height of his rule and he died in 504 BCE. Knowing that, the coins are from around 510-ish, so everything else that comes out of the Rift, well…”

“You think all of it’s from around the same time,” Marcus offers. 

You shrug. “They’re all coming from the same hole in space and time.”

“What I don’t understand,” Marcus mumbles, more to himself than to you, “is how the hell people are getting in and out of the damn thing, it’s so heavily guarded.”

“I’ll say,” you comment wistfully. “They’ve got that whole perimeter set up now, you can’t go within a quarter of a mile. Wish I could see it… I mean, talk about a curator’s dream, right?”

“It’s incredible,” he says softly. 

“Wait. You’ve seen it? How?”

Marcus smiles and holds out his hands, feeling slightly guilty. “Managed to hoodwink a few people with my credentials, but I barely got within eyesight before I was politely asked to leave.”

“By politely, I’m assuming you mean ‘with an assault rifle.’”

“Maybe a little.”

“Okay, now I’m pissed at you. And don’t flash those big brown puppy dog eyes at me,” you snap, right as Marcus begins to do exactly that. “Throwing your FBI Agent weight around, and you couldn’t even bring along your consultant.”

“Oh yeah, because I really wanted to put you at the end of some Heroic bigwig’s assault rifle as well,” Marcus laughs. “It was stupid, I let curiosity get the better of me. What can I say?”

“You can say you’re sorry by buying me a coffee. Not the swill they’ve got here, a proper latte. And while I drink it nice and slow-like, you have to tell me everything.”

Marcus can’t think of a single better way to spend the rest of his afternoon. 

Electricity crackled at his fingertips. Even if the paycheck hadn’t been enough to convince him, the ultimate test of his powers was enough for him to agree to something so petty as theft. For that’s what it was, when you took away all the other factors. The Rift was simply a complication. A variable. 

A challenge. 

Giving things power had always been his strong suit. Taking it away was another thing entirely, like flexing an unfamiliar muscle, or wiggling your ears. His biggest undertaking before now had been to shut down electricity to one wing of a building, but a whole city block?

Intriguing. 

Lurking in the shadows, at a safe distance from any of the Heroics security, the man known only as Voltage flared his nostrils, drawing the electricity back up into his body, and then… he pulled. Extracting the electrons from the world around him, his fingers flexed and strained as the current flowed backward, like forcing a waterfall to run in reverse. All the lights within a four block radius from the Rift–from cars, streetlights, personal flashlights, mobile phones, and screens–cracked and popped ominously before shattering and bathing the entire area in darkness. 

(Pike)

Not two miles away, the fluorescent light above Marcus Pike flickers, the unpleasant sound of electricity causing the hairs to rise on the back of his neck. Pulling a face, he rubs at the sore muscle with one hand, sits back in the uncomfortable metal chairs of the evidence room, and yawns loudly. 

“What I find interesting is that there doesn’t seem to be any residue on any of the items,” his partner remarks, seemingly ignoring the yawn.

“What kind of residue?” Marcus asks, curious.

“I dunno, like… time residue?”

The Agent laughs good-naturedly. “Time residue, huh? What the hell is that?”

“Haven’t you ever seen any SciFi movies?”

Marcus shoots the other Agent a skeptical look. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a movie.”

“Exactly. So we have no idea what kind of thing we’re dealing with. I mean, come on. Black hole guns? Holes in space-time? And you’re drawing the line at residue?”

Marcus laughs again, shutting his laptop with a sigh. “Jesus, I had no idea how late it had gotten. Let’s take a break and start again in the morning, yeah?”

“D’you think anything else has come out of the Rift?” his partner suddenly asks.

“Other than the artifacts they’re smuggling? Dunno,” Marcus answers. “They’ve got that place locked down pretty tight. I’ve been wondering how the hell they’ve been getting this stuff out of there,” he remarks, repeating what he had said to you earlier that day. 

“If a bunch of coins are able to get out, it’s only a matter of time before… other stuff does, too.”

Marcus pauses, one hand reaching toward the door. The statement troubles him more than he cares to admit.

“Above my pay grade,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t land. “Those Heroics guys have to have a handle on things.”

[animatedjen]

What's some stuff you're really hoping to see in Jedi 3 (either narratively or gameplay wise)?

Oh I'm so glad you asked this 🙌 Because I have THOUGHTS.

Gonna put everything under the cut so this doesn't clog up the feed with a wall of text (whoops.) Some of these ideas I hope to create concept art for, after I replace/fix my very cranky thirteen-year-old tablet. Anyway let’s start with gameplay!

Gameplay!

Maintaining Cal's abilities: Survivor handled this beautifully by keeping many of the skills learned in Fallen Order, instead of undoing Cal's growth from the first game. I think it'll be trickier to keep this momentum into Jedi 3 (the skill tree has gotten so large!) but story reasons could push Cal towards new types of abilities instead of bloating the current options.

More synergy between the lightsaber stances: I like all the stances in Survivor and it'd be A) disappointing to lose any of them, but B) overwhelming to add MORE combat styles. Being able to flow between the stances more fluidly would be fun though, with specific combos unlocked depending on which two are active together. Now if Merrin lets Cal borrow her knife-staff and he puts his lightsaber on the end... MAGICK SABER PIKE GO.

New or adapted movement mechanics: Maybe the ascension cable is replaced with a force ability (Force Ascend or Force Leap for an extra vertical boost?) or is "upgraded" to connect between two anchors, letting Cal create his own temporary ziplines.

Replayable missions: This could be explained in-game with a Force Tear or Cal's own interactive echoes. But I'd love the option to experience story missions and boss fights again post-game.

Customization!

This is a bonus section because Merrin should get new outfits. Haven't decided how to make it part of gameplay yet, stay tuned.

Cal's cosmetics in Survivor are mostly cool, some just funny, but overall a huge improvement from Fallen Order (yes, even though we miss all the poncho designs). For Jedi 3 I'd love to see more story-centric cosmetics that tie into the communities and people Cal has met along his journey. A Legacy outfit (incorporating pieces from his three Jedi masters), an Anchorite-inspired outfit (with arm tattoos), a bounty hunter outfit (the prize after defeating the Brood), etc. Maybe a Bogling outfit? No not made from Boglings; it looks like a Bogling. Hang on lemme fix my tablet—

Narrative + Gameplay!

Explore Tanalorr: Right now this sparkly, strong-in-the-Force, temple-carved planet is a huge mystery box for Jedi 3. There's a few directions it could go - more High Republic history, another civilization (the Nihil? someone new?) lurking in the shadows, or Force-related secrets hiding below the surface. Each Jedi game has followed Cal's exploration of an ancient culture, and I think Tanalorr can be a focal point in that journey.

Defeat Sorc Tormo and the Haxion Brood: I mentioned this in an ask earlier this week, but I so want a resolution to this fight against the Brood. Especially since roaming bounty hunters would threaten the Hidden Path. Maybe Cal breaks back into Ordo Eris, or hunts down Sorc Tormo on another planet. Maybe there's a Force-only stealth section?? Maybe a big multi-wave boss fight? Maybe Caij is there??? (no she doesn't get an invite to Tanalorr)

Dark Side Force Slow: The fact that Cal's Force Slow ability kept its red-stained aura, even in the Survivor post-game, is great. I love lasting consequences and ludonarrative harmony, yes yes yes. Really hope this isn't fully resolved by the start of Jedi 3 (potential timeskip makes it tricky but whatever) and the ability receives some sort of healing through Cal finding his way out of the darkness.

Narrative!

Timeskip?: I vote no, but I think Jedi 3 will vote yes, likely to age up Kata and allow Tanalorr to be more developed. But that also means Cal and the Mantis Crew goes through character development without us (boo) or remains emotionally stunted until we get there (also boo?). I'm more comfortable with the five year gap between FO and Survivor than I used to be though, despite "missing out" on big character moments, so maybe it'll be okay. Maybe. 👀

The Hidden Path builds a home on Tanalorr: This works until it doesn't, whether from outside pressure or the threat of a spy within. I don't think Bode's fears should necessarily be validated, but I do think the risk will keep Cal on edge and hurt his ability to trust (both others and himself.) It'll drive decisions that strain his relationships and be a source of conflict for part of the game.

The Mantis gets semi-retired and then reinstated: I just love the mental picture of the Mantis parked somewhere cozy and decorated with cloth and lights and a hideout for Kata. It's become too small and high profile to use for gathering the Path, but when the plot gets going, they're gonna need her back in action.

Three main antagonists: The Empire, an unrelated third-party with their own goals (Nihil or someone else), and Cal's own demons. The first two drive the external conflict, the third drives Cal's inner conflict and the story's themes. More on that at the end.

A memorial garden: It's designed by Pili and filled with native Tanalorrian plants and trees, from which the Anchorites hang cords and windchimes and bits of colored glass. Cere's saber was buried beneath the largest tree. Cal plays her hallikset here when he's too troubled to meditate. If we want to be mean, this place gets damaged during a battle in Act 3. If we want to be less mean, this is the place that doesn't get damaged during a battle.

Kata has some sort of student-teacher relationship with Cal: I'm torn on her being Force sensitive: this is a story about Jedi and "guide her through the darkness" is pretty telling given Cal's own darkness at the end of Survivor. But Cal helping Kata (and Kata helping Cal) can happen regardless of her Force sensitivity - it would just look different. This is a soft answer because I'm still exploring ideas around it BUT admittedly the angst levels would be higher if she is sensitive.

A battle against the shadow self: Look this one is cliche. I don't care. I want a huge cavern in the depths of Tanalorr where Cal gets to fight a dark version of himself that switches between all his former enemies. If we're making a video game here let's physically beat up our darkness. Let's have it not work. Let's bring Cal to rock bottom to remind him that he is more than his darkness and he doesn't have to do this alone. Let's go back to that same fight later and then we finally win.

There's more to explore story-wise and I will eventually, but I'm overall not concerned about Jedi 3's narrative. Respawn has been very intentional with their writing of Cal Kestis and the Jedi series so far (despite some last minute changes to Survivor) and I love this character and this story because of all the great work they've created. I really hope they finish this journey the way they want to. That being said—

How should Jedi 3 end? Should Cal die?

No: I'll argue Cal dying at the end of the trilogy completely undermines the entire lesson of Survivor.

Cal wouldn't stop fighting the Empire: The Cal we meet at the beginning of Survivor definitely wouldn't. That Cal also watched countless friends die to that same fight and saw two different Jedi fall to their passions-turned-obsessions that led them to the dark side. He may wrestle with remnant obligation or a bitter apathy, but he's definitely not as single-minded as he was before.

Cal would sacrifice himself to save the Path: Yeah, he probably would. Cere did exactly that during the Siege of Jedha when all else failed. But maybe the Path could be protected without Cal needing to be a Weapon - a lesson Cere also wanted him to learn.

Another way: I think the Koboh abyss (that separates Tanalorr from the rest of the galaxy) could be destroyed. I don't know if Cal would choose to destroy it, but I think the Empire would: if they can't reach Tanalorr it's the next best thing.

Now Cal has to make a choice: Leave (continuing the fight alone) or Stay (shepherding the Path for an unknown future.) It doesn't mean they never find a way back to the known galaxy, but it'll take time. Enough time for a New Hope to appear.

Whatever your opinion of the Sequel Trilogy, the line: "That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate. Saving what we love." is not only a complete thesis of Star Wars, but fits really well with Cal's journey. He's become very good at fighting. He wants to save everyone in Fallen Order, and he can't. He still wants to save everyone in Survivor, and they refuse him. His Fight has made a difference (again, Cere says as much) but it's clear this can't be Cal's final answer.

Choosing to protect the Path, choosing to trust the Force, choosing a home. That's what he's been fighting for. I love Cal Kestis because he isn't the chosen one and he isn't going to save the galaxy. But for his family and his community, he saved their galaxy. It's cheesy but I don't care, and you know Greez and BD would agree with me.

-

Okay this got so, so much longer than I expected. Bonus points if you made it all the way down here haha. I've had a weird assortment of concepts and ideas over the past year but never wrote them down in one place - until now. I've said it before but part of my hyperfixation with the Jedi series is because it isn't finished yet and Survivor ends on such a gut-wrenching cliffhanger. Whatever happens to this series, I'm slowly finding some sort of catharsis through all the edits and photomode shots and half-baked concepts. Thanks for tagging along ✌️

[dduane]

Re: Magic systems

kosmonaunt asked:

I have the weird hyper-fixation of wanting to know all their is about The Speech and just how everything works!! I love learning about how power systems work, and it helps since I’m trying to develop my own. I’m always stuck on soft or hard magic systems. Since I don’t know all there is to really know about my system. Do you have tips on crafting magic systems? How do you feel about someone being inspired by pieces of your system?

Inspiration is fine! What you want to make sure you do with whatever inspires you, though, is to work hard to make your own take on it different from or better than what you borrowed. Around here we refer to this as "the magpie principle:" if you're going to pick up and play with/make off with a bright and shiny idea, you need to be working to produce something even brighter and shinier as your part of the "exchange". Whether or not you succeed at this (or can succeed), either sometimes or never at all, isn't the point. The point is to always be trying.

As regards building magic systems: there were three different ones in the foreground or background of my first novel alone—all of them with features that at this end of time I can recognize as being inspired by elements of magic systems in other writers' work. But by the time I'd more fully developed them, each had become something unique. The system I'm probably better known for—the system based on the wizardly Speech and its use—sprang more or less automatically from the increasingly complex answers to the question, "What if there was a manual that could tell you the truth about/the secrets of what makes the world go?". (Because once you answer one question, another pops up. "Where did that manual come from? What're you supposed to do with it? What's wizardry for?" Etc., etc.) I've spent the last few decades, on and off, answering that question in ways that (intentionally) mirror the main characters' exploration of the art of wizardry, and what it means to engage in the business of errantry in a world that mostly thinks wizards are a fairy tale.

Before getting into describing my own approach to building a system, I needed to take a little time to look around and make sure I knew what you meant when you mentioned hard and soft magic. My best guess is that you're referring to what a lot of people are calling "Sanderson's Three Laws of Magic" (fairly enough, as Brandon calls them that himself). I had a look, and have come to the conclusion that they're more general guidelines than laws... as in each of his three essays on the subject, Brandon no sooner names his basic laws/principles than he starts punching holes through them to make room for systems that don't follow them rigidly. (And frankly I find this kind of endearing.)

With his first one, in particular, I have no quarrel at all: the concept that in one kind of magic, which for his purposes he defines as the "hard" kind, rules are extremely important. (Which is why I'm kind of horrified that he apparently got dogpiled about this take on a Worldcon panel, because to me it seems so intuitive. Some of the best fantasy storytellers I know, like this one, would agree with him.) Then later he gets on to the equally valid ideas that limitations on magic are really important, and that culturally interconnecting multiple systems is useful; and here too we're in agreement. This is reassuring to me, considering that I built my first four systems—all of which feature approaches resting on similar concepts—while Sanderson was between four and six years old. :)

People using Sanderson's Laws will look at the three systems in the Middle Kingdoms books and classify them as varying sorts of relatively hard magic, with their power rooted in two or maybe three different sources. (The blue Fire is a gift of the Divine, nearly lost since ancient times and much damaged, but now slowly being recovered: sorcery is a language-based art in which no one's terribly sure where its power comes from: and the so-called "royal magics" probably started out as a blood sorcery that over centuries was shifted toward very specific uses by the power of the demigod-descendants who employed it.)

The Young Wizards novels, though, feature an extremely hard magic deeply rooted in science and (more or less under the hood) very, very rules-intensive... while its power relies on correct use of the language used to create the Universe, and the active cooperation of the Powers still busy about that work. And this is the reason why, though people are going to naturally be curious about the Speech itself, no one's going to hear very much from me about its actual words.

This is because the Speech is canonically described as so powerful that its use is something you can feel in your body and mind (and theoretically your spirit): bone-shaking, life-changing, unmistakable. And there's no way that made-up words on the page can realistically be expected to evoke physical sensations like that in the reader... or like the sense of the universe going silent around you, leaning in to listen, as you speak your spell. The careful writer knows that it's unwise to attempt to produce responses in the reader that, when they fail, will only emphasize how that thing is not happening, and stands a good chance of shattering the illusion one’s trying to weave.

So a Speech-word gets dropped here and a phrase there, but no one's ever going to get enough of it out of me to try to build a spell. Readers are better at doing that work for themselves in their own heads, out of hints and whispers. Over ten books and their interstitial material, there are plenty of those scattered through the text: not to mention the most basic principles of wizardry, which are laid out before the end of the first chapter of the first book in the series. So I'll leave you to get on with deducing what you can from canon.

Meanwhile, if I was about to build a new system, I'd look at my main characters—in the setting of their home cultures—and ask myself for answers to these questions:

What do they want more than anything?

Why can't they have it?

What kind of power will help them get it?

When they do eventually get within reach of the power / the desired thing... what will its achievement cost them?

And will they pay the price?

...Because the payment of such prices is where you find out what your heroes are worth. (Or aren't.) The above arc succinctly describes, in broad strokes, both The Door into Fire and So You Want To Be A Wizard, and a good number of the books that follow them. (Because why abandon what works, or try to fix what's not broken?) :)

With answers to the questions above you can start feeling your way toward what you need—always looking closely at the cultures your characters spring from, and how those cultures will shape their response to the magic they seek. (Or that finds them.) Maybe it's no surprise that the preferred arc structure of a writer who was a psychiatric nurse will be deeply involved with questions of motivation: because motivation is at the heart of almost all human behavior. Find the motivation and you find the character's heart—and, often enough, what kind of magic they need to make their desire and intention overflow into triumph.

...There are quite a few "How to design your magic system" pages out there. You might glance at these to see if there's anything useful in them for you:

How To Build An Amazing Magic System For Your Fantasy Novel

How To Create A Magic System In Six Simple Steps

Building Your Magic System: A Full Recipe

How To Create A Rational Magic System

However, my favorite is the "So You Want To Write A Functional Magic System" page at TV Tropes, which is nicely arranged yet also completely nonprescriptive—a pick-'n'-mix jar of prompts, things other writers have done that've worked, and generally useful ideas. (And try not to vanish too far down the many interconnected rabbitholes...) :)

Now get out there, build the world, and make the magic(s).

[makerofmadness]

ok so what the hell is the legal drinking age in earthbread man like. So I was thinking I would finally have to take the L on the "how fudging old is Alchemist Cookie" thing because Witch's Castle has that side story where she botches an experiment and it basically causes her to act like her brother. Including the alcoholism. (Tbh it is like my favorite special story in the game like part of that is 'cus of favorite character bias but also it ends really sweetly like WC is just really good for grape siblings fans in general they get a lot of content-). So I was like "okay then she has to be at least 19 if we assume the drinking age would line up with the real world/country the game is from. I can take an L I thought she was younger than that but I was wrong" BUT THEN FOR GINGERBRAVE'S BIRTHDAY WE GET THIS:

WIZARD IS A CONFIRMED CHILD THO????

Basically this is like really ancient shxt but like there was something called I think the Junior Cookie Challenge once where basically 9 kid characters gave you missions and WIZARD WAS ONE OF THEM

This is the picture I could find but like. Yeah Wizard's definitely a kid then. (I think this event happened before certain characters were even a thing including Alchemist when I checked the dates so like I have no idea if the characters were like limited for a reason or if this was all the kid characters in the game at the time but regardless I'm. Fubkign. Top 10 questions science can't answer Number 1: how fubkign old is Alchemist Cookie- like I'm guessing she just wasn't designed with a particular age in mind let's be real here-)

but like.

If Wizard can drink then like what is the legal drinking age on Earthbread man like-??????????

EDIT: I looked at the dates wrong/was thinking of when Alchemist existed in Ovenbreak I think and not in LINE (Alchemist was released like years before this event I think)... but then I ran into SOMETHING ELSE that throws a wrench in the works and by that I mean:

so DEVIL COOKIE ALSO existed before this event and yet was excluded but they're like. Really obviously a kid ESPECIALLY as of Witch's Castle (fudging. Three words: Crayon Doodle Set [literally their room decor includes a set of fudging crayola or some shxt like. I think it's obvious what impression we're supposed to get of them like obviously I don't think crayons should be locked off to only kids but like traditionally they're kinda thought of like a kids thing and Devil isn't like. Artistic-themed so to inexplicably have them... you can tell what's being communicated y'know?-) (and like I think Devil being the same age as Angel kinda. Is obvious-).

So the Junior challenge thing pretty much confirms nothing as to which characters AREN'T kids. Just which characters ARE kids. Frickin' almost had it and then lost it again-

Edit again: I also discovered that. Cream Puff existed during the time the Junior Cookie Challenge ran. And yet she wasn't in that. But now they're running kinda a sequel to that in Kakao Cookie Run and she's in THAT. So basically yeah it was never exhaustive 100% frickin' I'm going insane I'm having like two people debating with me (peacefully thankfully) over if Wizard's not actually drinking something alcoholic but like what is he drinking we don't know it could be anything but like he has a wine glass they could've given him a normal glass but they gave the kid a wine glass and we all have to suffer the consequences they didn't even put like a bowl of fruit punch on the table or anything just to say "haha he's just drinking this don't worry he's just a silly little guy :3" no they left the door wide open for us to at least ASSUME if it's not CONFIRMED by this that he's fudging destroying his nonexistent liver at the ripe old age of Child idk it's 2:22am as of me writing this

Too many edits: I need like a dedicated guide on what juice is and isn't meant to be alcohol in this universe because apparently the wizard art is like a reused asset from something about Hollyberry so like. But I know at least half the juice there is treated like alcoholic shxt too looking at some of the dialogue or like I'm mainly thinking of like wildberry's dialogue I think so. frickin'

another thing I realize is that. Alchemist drinking was because her personality got altered she wasn't like In Public. And... look I love Vampire but he isn't like the most responsible guy let's be real and like. Frickin' even can I just get like whether or not she has a diploma or anything please just anything like... ok I know that old as hell personality quiz calls her a "picky model student" so she's probably still in school but like where in school is she is she in high school of college or like. I would've placed her around cream puff's age before all of this but I don't know anymore y'know can someone help me?????- (she probably just wasn't designed with one in mind I'm doing all of this for nothing this is the definition of insanity frickin'-)

FINAL EDIT HOPEFULLY: ok I finally have an answer just like after talking to my bigger cr nerd friend uh. Basically the I Want You Every Day music video gives us definite footage of children drinking:

Screenshots courtesy of @void-the-bear (said friend)

Gingerbrave and Cream Puff are drinking the exact same drinks as the adults and these drinks literally look the same as what Sparkling holds in his goddamn sprites

Like you can see the bubbles in some shots it's the same drink it's frickin' champagne-but-we-can't-call-it-that-because-it's-a-kid's-game

But like there is an official short of Sparkling like. Not being able to serve Custard III I think because he's too young???? So uh.

basically the drinking age in Earthbread is "younger than Gingerbrave but older than Custard III" thank you for coming to my TED Talk (fudging. Finally have an answer though at least I think please tell me they didn't try to call this lemonade or something somewhere not the lemonade anything but the lemonade don't make me have a headache again PLEASE-)