#so I guess it’s time for one of those late night posts where I basically write a diary entry

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images from the past year or so... posting my evil little photo diary collections once again..

[bayjaruchel]

Always

－－－

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hiccup has a lot on his mind. You help him relax, in more ways than one. (3.6k) (originally posted on ao3)

－－－

Whenever Hiccup was tired — either mentally or physically — he'd find you. 

It wasn't like you didn't spend time together when he was in good health, though. On the contrary, you saw him basically every day. After the whirlwind of events that involved him, a certain Night Fury, and the Red Death, you'd somehow been flung into a rapidly developing relationship. 

Sure, he was … Shy, at first. But also devastatingly sweet. Excruciatingly compassionate. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve him — correction, what you'd done to earn his perhaps years- long infatuation with you, which you learned about later. Honestly, you still didn't know. Whenever you tried asking, his prepubescent bashfulness roared back like a Thunderdrum. 

Not that you minded too much. It was still cute. 

Regardless, whenever you spent time together, it was usually pre-planned. Maybe you'd have lunch together. Maybe you'd go on long flights — dragons either flying in lazy overlapping figure-eights or shooting through the air, diving precariously to skim the surface of the ocean. The location or activity didn't matter much, as long as you were together. Sometimes, you'd just sit together on the high hills near his home and watch the sky. Still, all those things were proper dates, with proper times and proper locations. Hiccup rarely liked to intrude on your personal time. 

However, on occasion, he'd break that personal law of his. 

This was one of those certain occasions. 

He found you, already in your house due to the late hour. 

You could tell he'd been out flying, due to his ruffled appearance. Although his hair was always at least a little out of place, it wasn't normally this windswept without good reason. He'd shed his helmet, but not his armor; upon entering, though, he took off his vambraces and delicately placed them on the table nearest the door.

Automatically, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around your upper back. When you returned his embrace, he practically melted into you, hair tickling your cheek where he'd tucked his head into your shoulder. Hiccup smelled faintly of the sea, and of dragons; it made you wonder just how far he'd gone. 

"Hey," he mumbled, muffled into your tunic. 

"Hey yourself." Turning just so, you pressed a kiss into his hair. "Something on your mind?" 

He backed away a little, raising his head to look at you, but didn't let go. He looked tired, shoulders slumped and eyes faintly shadowed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." 

Sounded tired, too. Frowning, you reached up to idly push a lock of auburn hair out of his face. He leaned subtly into your touch, seeking further the warmth of your hand on his skin. At your proximity to him, you could pick out the slight stubble he'd developed. Or his freckles, patterned like constellations across his cheeks and nose. His eyelashes were pretty, too, but he'd never understood why. 

"You didn't push Toothless too hard, did you? He's strong, I know, but even he can only take so much before having to rest." Fondly, you added, "he'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, that one." 

His eyes softened. "I know. But I swear I didn't wear him out — we only flew for so long before heading back." 

"Good." 

You looked at each other for a moment, smiling, before your hand found a familiar place on his cheek. 

"... Did something happen?" 

Hiccup's gaze darted off to the side, his expression fading back into one of weariness. 

"Yeah? I guess?" He paused, before glancing back at you. "I should've seen it coming, but, you know me — always blowing things out of proportion, at least by a little bit." Laughing weakly, he probably would've done one of his sardonic arm movements if he wasn't still holding you. Speaking of, his grip tightened, just a bit. 

"Long story short, my dad wants me to be his … successor." He winced. "Uh, he wants me to be the next chief." 

"Oh." 

You searched his expression and didn't find much of anything. "That's … " 

" … A lot," finished Hiccup, resigned. "Yeah, it's a lot." 

"A lot of … bad stuff?" 

Of course, anyone with two working eyes and a brain would be aware of the fact that Hiccup was very much not like his father. Stoick wasn't a bad man, even if he did have his faults — he and his son merely resembled two opposing elements, clashing and yet harmonizing at the same time. Where the current chief of the Hooligans was brash, all fire and aggression, Hiccup was anything but. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to spend time alone with Toothless. 

You believed in him, and you always would — it was just that, if he needed to step up as a leader, you were worried about how he'd handle it. 

"Bad stuff, good stuff, just — stuff," he blustered, his voice rising in volume. "Honestly, I've been avoiding my dad. For the past day or so. I can't even look him in the eye without — without thinking about that . " Inhaling sharply, he slowly released his breath in an attempt to calm himself. 

It didn't seem to work. 

"I can't accept that responsibility." 

Quietly, you brushed aside his bangs again. "You haven't talked to him about it at all? He'd listen," you insisted. "He's not as closed-minded as he used to be." 

Hiccup's brow furrowed as he stepped back, arms falling back to his sides. "But he still wouldn't understand why. He'd be all— " Dropping his tone and puffing out his chest in a clear imitation of his father, he declared, "Son, it's only inevitable! You might as well step up while ye can! No use denyin' destiny!"  

You couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, you got his accent spot-on." 

"Why, thank you." He brightened for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if I exaggerate it." 

"Maybe just a little." 

"Aw, man." Shaking his head solemnly, he humored you for a moment. But quickly, he was serious again. "Regardless of my expertise in the great, great field of accent imitation … " 

"He wouldn't understand that — all of those speeches, and planning, and running the village — it's second nature to him, at this point." Hiccup rolled his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours. "But for me — no, that's not me. I can't be the leader he thinks I'll be — I can't just slip into that role." Running one hand through his hair, he waved his other in a disjointed motion. "Being the pride of Berk doesn't mean I'll automatically become that strong, confident chief that's needed." 

"I guess what I'm trying to get at is that — I'm not him. And I never will be." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was dark, but the sky was clear. A drowsy quiet had fallen upon Berk, a far cry from its usual liveliness. 

"And I never met my mother, so … what does that make me?" 

Finally, he met your eyes once more. Your heart ached for him. 

When you pulled him into another hug, he didn't resist. 

For a minute, you just stayed like that — wrapped around one another. And then, you broke the silence. 

"You don't have to be your father. Or your mother." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but you kept going. "I know you're still searching for yourself — who you are — but that's alright. People can change and grow over time, Hiccup. Even if they think they can't." You gently traced circles over his back. "Even if you think you can't." 

His breath was unsteady as he exhaled. 

When he spoke, he sounded vulnerable. 

"Do you think that … I could be a good chief?" 

You didn't hesitate before responding. "Of course I do. Maybe you're not ready right now, but when you are, you'll be the strong leader that Berk needs." Another kiss, pressed to his temple. "I just know it." 

Hiccup sighed deeply, relaxing more into your arms. For a guy as tall and lanky as he was, he had no problem with making himself smaller in your presence. You had a feeling he even preferred it that way. 

"What would I do without you, huh?" 

Tenderly, he cupped your face. 

You couldn't help but tease him, though. 

"Wallow in your own despair, maybe." Leaning in slowly, you gave him a look. "Well, more than usual."

He smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Ouch." 

Still, he met you halfway. His lips were a little chapped, maybe, but other than that you had no complaints. As your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, his hands fell to your waist with a gentle but firm grip. He tasted very faintly of honey. 

It was all very sweet — pun not intended — and you didn't stop it when the kiss deepened. He hummed contentedly, just before you parted; both breathing heavier than you had been before. It was only a brief moment, a brief pause --  and then his lips were on yours again. Passionately, not hungrily. He'd never been a taker. Always a giver. 

Inches from you, after you parted for maybe the seventh or eighth time — you weren't quite keeping count— he murmured something, breathlessly. 

"Can we take this to bed?" He looked at you with nearly half-lidded eyes, and then added a quiet "please?"

"If you want to," you answered, softly. 

"Very much," was his reply, followed by another dizzying kiss. 

His armor and various articles of gear were soon discarded into a small pile, leaving him in just his dark green tunic, pants, and other assorted under-layers. 

At first, he'd been a bit awkward concerning his prosthetic. Insecure. But now, after climbing onto the mattress with you, he deftly removed it and put it to the side with a dull clunk . It didn't come up often as an issue, anyway — after a fair bit of messing around, trying to find positions that wouldn't cause him to lose his balance and topple over, you'd adapted quite easily. 

Right now, you weren't even moving at a speed that could possibly make him fall over. 

He settled back onto the pillows as you hovered over him. Then, you leaned down to continue what you'd started. His hands settled somewhere on your back — he made a small noise as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Warm and longing, he pulled you impossibly closer, craving the feeling of your body pressed against his. 

Soon, his hands snaked below your tunic, seeking out your skin. You giggled, a little — his fingers were always cold after a flight — but they would warm up. In the meantime, you'd help him warm up, too. 

Hiccup shivered, almost imperceptibly, as your lips found his neck for a moment. Indulgently, you nibbled once, playfully, and his breath hitched. But he didn't let you continue much longer, and soon you were back to kissing him where he wanted you most. This was exactly how he liked it best; slow and steady, with no rush to completion. 

A short while later: you almost missed his words, soft as they were. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing patterns on your back all the while. 

"Can I take this off?" He asked, close enough that you could almost feel his lips shaping the syllables. 

You whispered a quiet affirmative. 

The cool air was fresh on your skin, goosebumps temporarily rippling across the newly-bare areas, but he soothed them. A kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, just above your chest area, and then — your breath escaped in a shudder as his lips found one of your nipples, a hot contrast to the otherwise crisp temperature. After a cheeky, parting nip, he gave the other the same attention. His eyes slid shut after you let out a small, shaky sigh. 

Eventually, you helped him out of his tunic as well, covering the same ground as he had with your lips. His freckles weren't just limited to his face — they were all over his body, pretty much; some on his lean torso, some on his arms, others on his thighs, and even one or two on certain other areas — but you'd get to that later. 

He twitched slightly when you thumbed over his bony hips, his hand resting somewhere between the back and top of your head as you kissed a trail from one shoulder, down to just above his waistband, and then back to the other shoulder. Similarly to the map he was making of the world outside Berk, you enjoyed plotting out the routes between the occasional scar or mole. One jagged mark near his navel, from a bad fall into a thornbush. A couple of assorted scratches here and there from more recent events. You paid attention to each and every one. 

You looked at him, from where you rested near his chest, your own chest resting on his flat abdomen. He met your gaze — green eyes filled with nothing except pure adoration. 

When you moved upwards, kissing him again, he reciprocated eagerly. 

It wasn't long until your previously unhurried kisses grew heated. Hot. Heavy. You felt your face warm as you became aware of your desire — having started out subtle, only a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, but now nearly throbbing, tipping into desperation —

—it seemed he felt the same, as he returned what you were giving him enthusiastically. Even though you were pressed up against him again, his hands returning to your chest before sliding down to grip your waist — it wasn't enough, you were determined to take every low moan and high gasp he released—

Hiccup suddenly broke the kiss, nearly panting

You looked at him quizzically, after instinctively chasing his lips — you were about to ask if he was alright, but he spoke first.  

"Can we— " Catching his breath, he quickly continued. "—switch? Positions, I mean." 

"Oh." It only took you a millisecond to understand what he wanted.

You smiled. "Oh. Sure." 

Rolling off of him, it was your turn to lay back. He helped you shimmy out of your trousers — as he slid them down your legs, he paused to press a kiss just above your knee — before tossing your pants on the floor, where they joined the other abandoned clothes. You didn't care much for wrinkles at a time like this. He never cared for wrinkles, period. 

A pillow, most likely homemade, was slid underneath your hips. Hiccup had always liked every part of you, you were well aware of it. However, he seemed to enjoy your thighs the most; he especially enjoyed being between them. 

His thumbs found your inner thighs, gently drawing them apart as he made himself comfortable on his stomach. 

"Okay?" As he glanced up at you, you could pick out his eyelashes once again. 

"Yeah," you breathed. 

At the first touch of his lips, close to where you wanted them most, you shivered. 

He was patient again, drawing nearer and nearer to your sex — he wasn't the type to leave marks but also wasn't completely adverse to a little nipping. Nonetheless, he was gentle all the while, soothing whichever places he graced with his teeth with more open-mouthed kisses. 

You were tense with anticipation by the time he finally, finally licked a broad stripe up your cunt. 

Vividly, you still remembered the first time he'd eaten you out. What he completely lacked in experience, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm and a nearly all-consuming need to please — now, he still possessed that same enthusiasm, but instead of clumsy kisses and clueless, unskilled lapping, he knew exactly what to do. Hands reaching to cup at the backs of your thighs, he let out a muffled, quiet groan that sent wonderful vibrations dancing up your spine. 

He kept up a steady, firm rhythm, eyes fluttering shut again as he busied himself with his task at hand — his tongue working at your folds, flicking up to tease your clit, delving inside your cunt —  you were growing wetter by the passing minute. He practically worshiped you, and you were a grateful recipient, a grateful deity to a devout follower. 

Your legs trembled as you gradually approached the peak you needed so much. When his lips closed around your sensitive apex and sucked, gently — your hips instinctively twitched upwards, and you couldn't help the sound that tumbled from your mouth in response. 

One calloused finger easily slipped inside you, immediately crooking upwards towards your stomach, searching. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and after your whispered pleas, he added another, both massaging at the spot that made you sigh and gasp. All the while, he lavished attention on your clit with his tongue, occasionally letting out soft, nearly inaudible moans of his own. 

Even though you couldn't quite see it from your position, his hips shifted against the mattress, seeking just enough relief to take his mind off of his own arousal. But the other, rather large percentage of his attention was still focused on pleasing you — on making you come, trembling, onto his tongue as you had many times before. 

Speaking of time — you were unaware of just how much of it passed, but eventually, you felt the familiar coil tightening, warmth pooling low in your abdomen. He must've known, too, because that was precisely when he began doubling his efforts; his fingers prodding insistently in a come hither motion, while he pressed sloppy kisses to your clit, thumbing over the nub with the same already-occupied hand. 

Your back arched upwards, towards his mouth. Flushed and quivering, you nearly choked on a gasp. "Hic—" 

That was the most warning you could give, before you clenched down on his fingers, hips jerking as you came. Letting out a series of short, nearly wanton exclamations, you let your head sink back further into the pillows as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You saw stars for a split second, winking brightly behind your eyelids. 

He kept working at you until the aftershocks had faded, fingers sliding out of you with an almost filthy wet noise. 

You were still panting, face hot, as he absentmindedly popped them into his mouth, tongue swirling around his digits — eyes already heavy-lidded, they shut for a moment at your taste. After you returned to Earth, you drew him in for a kiss, not minding the slight tanginess. If anything, it made you want him more. 

Upon glancing downward, you could easily see the distinct evidence of Hiccup's desire, straining at his pants. 

His breath escaped in a hiss when you leisurely palmed him. 

Soon, you'd switched positions again, and you hovered just above his needy cock as he shifted back to lean on the headboard. 

You were still slick and loose from earlier, so with only a little bit of a stretch, you sank down on him, taking him inside your still-sensitive cunt; the sensations almost bordering on too much, but perfectly so. His face screwed up once he was fully hilted in your heat, and he paused to adjust himself, breath escaping in quick, high-pitched pants. It wasn't anything new — he was always already beyond worked up after eating you out. 

"Good?" You asked, after giving him a few seconds. 

"Yeahyeah yeah," he replied in a single breath, hands squeezing your hips, careful not to grip too tight — "gods , you're warm, mmh— " 

Slowly, you rocked. His grip tightened the tiniest bit. He didn't push you to go faster at all, or harder, letting you ride him at your own pace — but this wasn't for your pleasure. It was your turn to give and his to take. And so, you gave, brushing over his nipples and biting at the spots that always made him lose control. More and more moans fell from his lips, growing in volume and pitch —

He was begging, quietly, breathlessly. You captured his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, making him squirm. His cock twitched inside you, filling you up just right, as if his body was shaped by divine hands to perfectly fit yours —

You watched, reverently, when he finally reached his own ecstasy — you'd pulled him out, given him a couple of firm pumps — his voice cracked on a final, unrestrained whine as his release splattered across his stomach, thick and warm on your palm. It didn't matter how many times you'd witnessed him come — each time, he looked beautiful. 

His breath slowed, the dazedness fading from his expression. His hands loosened on your hips before he finally looked up at you, still considerably flushed. 

"That … " He swallowed. "Was that, uh … Fine?" 

You almost broke into a fit of giggles, but prevented it before it could happen by kissing him instead. Hiccup was perhaps a bit clumsy, but you didn't mind in the slightest. When you parted, you lingered — neither wanting to move just yet, feeling languid in the afterglow. 

"Yes, it was fine," you echoed. His nose wrinkled at your teasing tone, but he couldn't suppress his lopsided smile. A quick peck on your cheek, and then he was back to leaning on the pillows. 

"I'm glad it was fine." 

The sensation of cooling ejaculate was only bearable for a short amount of time, so eventually you did move to clean up. The wet towel was a little cold on your skin, and he thought so too, but it was all in the service of somewhat-proper hygiene. 

Thankfully, the cold failed to slip through the combination of your blankets and Hiccup — which was and had always been a very effective combination. 

You slipped into a comfortable slumber like that — both cozy and sated. He wasn't tense in the slightest as he held you, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat against your bare back. 

He always fell asleep before you. 

You hoped his dreams consisted of lovely things, always. 

[joanvisitsrome]

stars between us ch.2 : h.c

Hey you guys!! here's chapter two! I'll do everything I can to have chapter three tomorrow. I'm looking to have 8-9 chapters total of this series. COMMENT on this post if you'd like to be added to this taglist.

Summary: You and Hazel spend the first night of the camping trip together

Contains: fluff, hand-holding, one-bed trope, teasing friends, slight angst, hazel talking about the pep rally, hazel talking abt toxic friends, awkward!hazel, nerd!reader

“So, that leaves you and Hazel,” Isabel had pointed out. 

You and Hazel look at each other and smile. Of course you two were fine with sharing a bed. You two got along well anyway. The two of you leave your things on the bed and then go outside to a nearby picnic table. It wasn’t too late in the day, as there was still light outside. The sky was only now just getting darker. The two of you begin to continue your conversation from the bus, picking up exactly where you left off.

“Okay,” you say, “enough about me. Where in the actual universe are you getting bombs?”

“Where else? You really think I’m going to like some deep, dark alleyway to find supplies? I usually just go to Home Depot and grab my supplies.”

“Really?” you ask surprisedly, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not joking. I’ll take you one day if you’d like.”

“Wow Hazel, stringing your new friend into your bomb-making endeavors.” To this comment, Hazel giggles and plays with the rings on her fingers. She looked absolutely adorable doing this.

“I’d never let you get in trouble for it though,” Hazel adds quickly, “I don’t like throwing people under the bus.”

“Sure you don’t,” you quip teasingly, “If you don’t, then what was that with PJ during the last pep rally?”

“Now that’s a different story. PJ, umm, made me feel, unloved? The fight club has been a safe space for me during my mom’s midlife crisis. I guess when PJ kind of summed up for me that I had no friends, and, um, had a skank as a mom, I wanted to defend myself. Also, they said I was fighting PJ.”

“Well, you have me, so you have friends. And uh, I don’t know about the mom stuff, but she definitely didn’t raise a skank, so that must say something.” Hazel smiles, glad that you at least understood her. She holds your hands, which had been resting on the table.

“I’m really glad we’ve started getting to know each other. It’s nice to talk with someone who’s like me in some ways.”

“Yeah. Even though I’m friends with like Isabel and Brittany and those people, I feel like they don’t understand. Like half of those people don’t even read. Like, the school took away the books and they just don’t care.” Hazel looks at you as you continue rambling, a concentrated, attentive look in her eyes. She seems dazed almost.

“Hazel?”

“Yeah?” she says, shaking out of her daze.

“You good? It seemed like you phased out for a moment.”

“No, I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well yesterday.” You look up at the sky, which has gone basically dark. 

“Should we go sleep?”

“Oh, we don’t have to. We can keep talking if you want.”

“No no, I’m tired too. Plus, we have a long day tomorrow doing the trash and stuff.”

“Okay! As long as you’re okay with it. I don’t want to force you to do something just because I am.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry about it, Haze.” You hold out your arm, and she links it in yours. The two of you laugh and talk your whole way back to the cabin. She sees PJ and Josie looking at her with teasing looks, lips puckered up. She quickly turns her head away to see you curled up on the corner of the bed, book in hand. It’s an astronomy book about constellations and the stories behind them.

Hazel looks at you as she climbs into bed.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Oh, just a book about the stories between different constellations.”

“OH! We didn’t get to look at the stars like we said.”

“Whatever. We’re both tired, and I’m sure we’ll have even more fun tomorrow doing so. I bet since we’ll spend the whole day together, we’re going to have a great time.”

“Don’t let me forget tomorrow. I’ll feel horrible if you don’t get to look at the stars at least once before the trip is over.”

“Don’t worry Haze, I won’t.” Hazel’s cheeks turn pink at the nickname, but she brushes it off and lies down. PJ and Josie ask everyone if it’s okay to turn off the lights, making you close your book and lie down as well. You assume that Brittany and Isabel are off with the other cheerleaders and that they’ll come back soon. You feel Hazel shudder when the lights turn off in the cabin.

“Hey, Haze, what’s wrong?” you whisper, turning to her under the covers.

“Nothing. Um, it’s just that I, um, kind of, always use a night light? I don’t like the pitch black.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know.” Hazel turns around to face you. Just then, your hands bump under the covers. You don’t know what overcomes you, but you decide to hold Hazel’s hand.

“Is that okay?” you ask. You hear Hazel’s breathing slow down to its relaxed pace.

“Yeah. Much better. Are YOU okay with that though?” she asks, concerned that maybe you would feel weird holding her hand.

“No, of course not. I want you to sleep well.” You two are facing each other in the bed, only barely able to see the traces of each other’s face.

“As long as you’re okay with it, I am too.”

“Goodnight Haze.” The two of you fall asleep facing each other, and holding hands, and wake up like that the next morning.

taglist: @at1nyzen

[graveyardvalentinee]

hii can you do where reader comes back home crying because of people at work making fun of her and saying bad stuff about her relationship with ney

of course lovely :)) thank you so much for your request !! I’m not sure if by “people at work” you meant her co-workers or customers but I just made it where the customers were being rude.

—————————

consequences / neymar jr

pairing : neymar x reader

When I said yes to Neymar after he asked me be his girlfriend , I didn’t realize all the criticism it would come with.

We met at my job - a jewelry store. He had went in looking to buy a birthday gift for his mom , I just happened to be the only available employee.

I didn’t know who he was at first , until after he had asked for my number and left. My co-worker basically screamed once I told her and she revealed to me who he was.

And after that everything was history between us. He was the best boyfriend I could ever ask for , the best partner I could ever have.

He had his own way of loving , and it’s one of the main things that made fall for him so quickly.

He’s easily a charmer.

On our first couple of dates he would always surprise me with small gestures - flowers , books that I had mentioned I wanted, small jewelry pieces , and much more.

I would always protest and insist how he didn’t have to buy me any of that stuff - that those weren’t the reasons why I accepted to going out with him but he would always brush me off , saying how he wanted to give me all these things.

He showers me with compliments any chance he gets , making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

I also deeply enjoy his touchy side. Kisses everywhere - no matter where we are or what we’re doing. His hands somewhere on me at all times when we were together. He claims he can’t sleep properly through the night if I’m not there next to him - or wrapped in his arms.

But all that aside - he’s very attentive to me and my feelings.

He always makes my feelings valid , he always insists on talking everything out with me. I don’t think there was ever a time where he’s been unthoughtful towards me.

I was iffy at first - to open up to him about everything but he made me feel so welcome in his embrace , and I easily was able to tell him anything that would be wrong with me.

But today - that all changed. I had never dealt with hatred towards me like this before.

When me and Ney started our relationship I made it clear to him I still wanted to have a normal life - I didn’t want him to expose me to the media.

Sure he would post pictures of us , but none ever showing my face.

We thought we were safe up until 2 weeks ago when the paparazzi took a clear picture of me and ney outside his house.

I tried covering my face once I noticed the paparazzi but it was too late.

The media soon found out who I was through Neymars following - I made the stupid decision of not making my account private.

My co-worker had tagged me in a photo of a work party we had - also tagging the location. I’m guessing that’s how Ney’s die hard fans found my job.

Every day since then it was a lot more busy , people specifically requesting me to take their orders.

When the pictures got out to the public , Ney insisted I quit my job and just let him work for the both us - something he’s been trying to make me do for moths.

But me being me - I told him nothing about his fans going to my job and acted as if the paparazzi spotting us changed nothing in my life.

I now realize that was a stupid mistake.

Earlier today I was helping two girls who had walked in and came straight to me for assistance. One blonde and another brunette , both seeming to be around 16 or 17.

It was all going swell until the questions started.

“So Y/N - how did you manage to snatch Neymar all for yourself ?” The brunette asks.

“I don’t discuss my personal life with customers.” I tried to remain as calm as possible , giving them a small fake smile. This was the first time anyone had actually mentioned our relationship to me.

The brunette looks at her friend , turns back to me and laughs.

“No seriously - are you like a you know service girl of some sorts ?” The blonde asks me now, whispering the last part.

Is this what people think of me?

“Excuse me? I am not!” I fight back , trying to hold back any tears. I have no idea what to do or say.

“Come on , Neymar couldn’t have seriously chosen you for no reason - I mean just look at you. You don’t have much to offer.” The blonde continues , her eyes raking down my figure , gaze filled with disgust.

I shamefully look down. My hands start to shake and no words come out of my mouth.

The girls start to snicker to each other. I can’t make out all the words that their saying because of their low tone but I do hear the words -

“If I knew Neymar went for the first hooker he saw on the street I’d been on that street months ago.”

“Security ! Please escort there two girls out.” I finally get the courage to speak.

“What ? We haven’t done anything! We’re simply shopping for a pair of earrings.” The blonde says , putting on a fake voice.

I look up at our security - Marcus , me and him get along very well and he’s been very aware of all the fans coming in and out of the store.

I mouth a “please” to him , just wanting these girls gone as soon as possible.

“Ladies please do not make me drag you out of the store. The exit is that way.” Marcus firmly says.

The two girls look at me and roll their eyes before walking out of the store.

I grab all of my stuff from the back room and clock out , not caring to warn anyone about me leaving.

I get into my car and rush home. As soon as I step into the house I burst into tears , letting myself fall on the floor.

When I left the store I didn’t even check the time - 5 pm.

The exact time Neymar gets home from practice.

My mind was so fogged with everything that had just occurred I didn’t even have time to notice Neymar on the couch.

His eyes look up and meet mine. He rushes up off the couch and comes to my side.

“Amor what’s wrong ? Por que minha linda garota está chorando?” He softly says holding me in his arms. [why is my pretty girl crying ?]

I’m so dumb. I should have went to my friends house or something instead of coming here. The last thing I wanted was to tell Neymar about the humiliating things they told me at work.

I bring my hands up to my face and wipe my tears off , trying to get out of his tight grasp.

“It’s nothing Ney , I’m fine.”

“Y/N everything is obviously not fine. I’m not letting you go until you tell me what is wrong.”

“I’m serious querido , everything is fine.” I try to get the words out and put a smile on my face but my tears betray me.

My thoughts going back to what those girls said of me , making me cry ever harder.

“Look at me” he whispers.

I look up into his eyes , my vision blurry with tears.

“Take your time amor. I’ll wait here for you to tell me what is wrong , you know I am always here for you. What ever it is you are going thru I won’t leave your side.”

He won’t budge , and it’s no use to keep it in , im sure those girls will upload the conversation we had to the media and Ney will find out one way or another.

“These - these -” I try to get out but more tears end up falling.

“Breathe amor breathe , I’m here for you , I’m right here.” He whispers , kissing my temple.

I take in a deep breath and finally calm myself. Ready to tell Neymar everything that had been happening.

“Ever since the pictures got leaked there’s been more and more customers coming into the store , specifically requesting me to take their orders - I’m sure you can figure out why. Everything was fine tho , no one asked any questions just eyed me a lot and looked very excited to be assisted by me. Until today - these two girls came in and told me the most horrible things.”

I can tell he’s bothered by me not telling him about the customers coming in but I continue before he has a chance to scold me about that.

“They asked me -”

“God. They asked me if I was your whore. They said I had to be a worker in that department of some sort because there’s no way you’d choose me out of thousands of girls.”

“Y/N -”

“Before you get mad at me for not telling you about all the people coming into my job , I’m sorry I really am - I should have spoked up earlier. I now see you are right about the whole quitting my job thing.”

“Meu amor I could never be mad at you , specially over something like that.” He begins

“What those girls said is no where near true and we both know it. You know why I chose you-”

“Do I really know why tho? Why did you chose me Neymar? You could have any woman you want.” I interrupt , a wave of insecurity going over me.

He drops his arms from around me and helps me to stand up , walking me over to the couch. He sits down and grabs my arms causing me to straddle his lap ,bringing one of his hands up to the side of my neck and letting the other rest on the outside of my thigh. Reaching up he gives my forehead , cheeks , and lips a small kiss before speaking -

“I chose you because when I walked into that jewelry store my eyes went straight to you. I could not take my mind off of you for the next week after that. I had to make you mines. I found any stupid excuse to go back there and just speak to you.”

“You have changed my life im so many unexplainable ways Y/N. There’s no other woman that I could ever dream of when I have you right here - all for me. You are the light of my life. I love and adore every single thing about you , you have bewitched me mind and soul.”

“I like to believe you were made just for me because there is no other woman on this earth that can make me go crazy like you. I will continue to show you-”

He leans forward laying gentle kisses on my neck.

“Every single day-”

His hand on my thigh starts slowly finding its way to my clothed center.

All my thoughts from what those girls told me earlier completely vanished , my focus now being on Neymar’s words and his hands making every inch of my body hot with desire.

I can tell he’s doing this to take my mind off things and it’s definitely working.

“That you are -”

I can feel his hard on under me so I decide to move forward - just a bit to tease him.

“The most utterly breathtaking-”

His hand at my neck now making its way to my behind , giving it a tight squeeze , causing me to roll my hips forward onto him again.

“And perfect woman for me.”

His face comes up from my neck before he smashes his lips on mine , i kiss him back immediately with everything in me.

I pull away to look him in the eyes and wrap my hands around his neck.

“I’m tired of us hiding linda. Eu te amo , e você merece ser mostrada como a beleza que você é.” [I love you and you deserve to be shown of like the beauty you are]

“Eu te amo mais.” I say back pecking his lips.

“And okay amor you win. But I’m really going to miss our privacy time together.” I add.

His hand leaves my center and comes up to my behind , giving me a squeeze before picking me up , causing me to squeal.

“We can have privacy time all the time princesa, just give me a heads up , the answer is always yes.” He says smirking before carrying me up the stairs while ripping off all my clothes.

“You’re crazy Ney.”

“Only for you meu amor.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n : okay first off - i had to use the pride and prejudice quote i just had to. i know it’s definitely not something ney would say but this is all fiction so let’s imagine like he would lolll.

also i feel like i drag out these imagines a little too long or i go a lot into detail , that’s how i like my writing but if you guys do feel like their a bit long please let me know and ill make them short or if you guys enjoy them this length or even want them longer please let me know.

finally thank you again for who ever sent in this request i really appreciate you taking interest in my writing and thank you guys so much for 100 followers ♡

[billk4ulitzsecretlvr]

☆ °• Just once .. ? •° ☆

- kinda just b4 I post ! . A little preview on what this one shot is !

Contains : - smut, obv. Oral/penetration, male x male, not a req but a fic I've been wanting to do for a bit ! No agegap, no hard kinks at all really , probably just a bit of spit? Not proofread ! Enjoy ! (Or don't;) )

Edit : I came back to this multiple times without reading a bit of it beforehand , so if I'm repetitive during it I really apologize ☆

Alas, in a hotel where the boys could enjoy some down time. It wasn't at all very common that they got it in the last few weeks, especially on tour. The boys usually would have taken a break at this point, considering they're still basically teenagers and overworking wasn't exactly Bills favorite thing to do. Not lately, at least.

Yeah, it was fun. It was really fun. But he didn't like the lack of privacy, not at all.

Sure, the first maybe two years of being a band was a blast, it was enjoyable and Bill could've sworn it was the last thing he'd ever give up. It was every kids dream, wasn't it? Maybe not being in a band in particular, but definitely to be famous.

To feel liked by everyone, have people swoon for you? Be able to meet your favorite artists, to collab with people you've looked up to since..well, forever? Yeah, Bill had come to the conclusion that it wasn't all it was hyped up to be.

He brought his bag into the hotel room, not too worried about their suitcases since it was only for the night. He sat his black bag down on the nightstand, plopping down onto the bed as Tom followed close behind. The dreadhead smirked, cocking an eyebrow at Bills tired demeanor.

"What, all that sitting in your bunk and listening to music tire you out?" He snickered, patting Bills thigh. Bill just rolled his eyes.

"No.. more like the endless shows we've been doing for weeks on end. I've nearly lost my voice like..four times." He said, sitting up as he made eye contact with the more masculine boy.

"I guess playing the guitar is a bit different than yelling for about two hours."

"It is. Vastly." Bill agreed, seeing as Tom walked around the other side of the bed, laying down against the headboard.

"You have your own bed, what're you ruining mine for?" Bill jokingly bickered, crawling over to his twin to swat the man off.

Tom just rolled his eyes, a common occurrence with the brothers, it seemed. The younger boy just complied, lying on his side to face Tom as they spoke.

"You ever wish we waited to start the band?" Bill asked softly, quietly. Tom shook his head near damn immediately.

"Not at all. What if it hadn't worked out? We'd be out of a job, a couple German losers who'd probably work at a supermarket till we're 30." Tom chuckled.

Tom had always been more laid back than Bill, always finding a way to joke in situations where he could tell Bill was slightly worried, if not.. a bit regretful.

"I guess." Bill mumbled, moving a tad bit closer to Tom. He laid his head on his brothers chest, The man almost didnt know how to react to the gesture. He watched as Bills expression softened, calmed as he laid into the mans chest.

Something about Bill was he was very expressive, something Tom and.. well, everyone else took notice of. But Bill had always been like that too, and Tom would be a fool if he lied to anybody and said it didnt get to him. It always made him think about..well, passion. The intimacy during sex you just couldn't fake?

The authentic-real-life feeling of knowing every nose scrunch, every jolt, quiver, moan, scratch, was all genuine. Not those fake porno, "Daddy! Daddy! Harder! Im gonna cuuumm!!!" . No, there would be none of that. Not with Tom, and certainly not with Bill. Tom knew Bill wouldnt know how to fake it if his life depended on it, that's what made it so enticing for Tom. Maybe he was a pervert, but he wanted to see Bill in bed just once.. Just once.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bill hissed, sitting up. Tom impulsively sat up with the boy, nodding immediately.

"Of course I'm listening. Yeah, I'm sorry. I am." Tom quickly defended.

Bill wasn't buying it, he could just tell when Tom wasn't paying attention and as far as he knew, Tom didn't hear a word he just spoke.

He knew Tom had other worldly experience with sex and kissing and this, that, and the other thing.. but he felt incompetent to the situation. Tom pulled the boy onto his lap, feeling as the kid straddled him and leaned down to keep their faces together. After some time, it was clear that Bill's will to believe in himself strengthened since Tom could feel him less tense, less nervous.

Tom barely hesitated before he pulled Bill in to kiss him, his hand moved down to Bills flank as he gripped it tighter to hold the boy in place. Bill quickly pulled away, looking at Tom with his glassy eyes before.. coming back? They kissed again, this time, more passionately. More tongue, more love.

The metallic material of Toms lipring stung Bills lips quietly, nothing that took away from the kiss as his pearly tongue ring accidentally clanked against Toms teeth a couple times.. Which Tom didn't seem to mind. It seemed to come naturally, as natural as Bill had ever made out before.

Once Tom pulled away, he looked up at the boy, his lips parted.

"Are you okay?.." He asked softly, not exactly able to gauge Bill's feelings at the moment. He knew the boy had a habit of being confident in the moment and then completely regretting it later on, he didn't want now to be one of those times.

"Mhm." Bill answered, lowering himself back down so his hands were balled in fists on either side of Tom's head on the white pillows of the hotel.

Tom knew Bill had tattoos, hell, it was all over the media for weeks when a couple interviewers asked him about it.. but he'd never been able to just stare and appreciate the art. He rubbed his thumb over Bill's hip, rubbing the ink of the star tattoo by his groin. His eyes quickly darted towards Bill's arm tattoo, it read 'freiheit '89', Tom had always loved the star more. It was cute, decent sized and just.. fitting. Not to mention the placement, it was so Bill.

Looking down at Tom's thumb, he bit his lower lip. Bill remembered when he first got it, remembering the way he'd shown it off so obviously in photoshoots after he got it. He had purposely worn his jeans a bit lower, tighter shirts that were more likely to ride up when he moved his arms. He got a lot of compliments on it, Bill loved it.

Their lips reconnected as Tom pulled the boys head down, dancing together softly as if the boys were used to it. Tom felt softly as Bills hips shifted on his lap, rubbing against his groin region a bit as the kid grew excited. Tom knew Bill was still a virgin, one of the reasons he wasn't rushing into this quite as much as he had with other women.. he moved his hands up a bit under Bills shirt, Tom's thumb rubbing against Bills nipples with ease. Bill's breath hitched when he felt the new sensation.. it was different, it was all he could feel in that specific spot.

It wasn't like touching any of his other sensitive areas, where you felt it through your whole body.. he only felt his chest slightly get right as Tom gently brushed his thumb back and forth over the skin.

Tom felt himself hardening slightly as Bill continued to shift and move softly on his lap whether he meant to or not, he definitely wiggled a lot and it forced a couple breathy whimpers to escape Tom's lips. After a bit of time, Bill and Tom had both been pretty stiff to say the least. They forced each other's shirts off previously.

Tom was just about ready to get the jeans off too. He felt like they were suffocating his abdomen,despite the baggy attire. He just knew Bill had to be aching, that kid always wore tight jeans.

The older twin pushed the younger off to the side of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off the side of the bed.

This was the point that Bills eyes widened. He realized this was really happening, but he couldn't resist. He was excited too..in every way. He unbuttoned his own jeans squeamishly, pulling his belt out from the loops and tossing it onto the floor on his side. He quickly rid of his jeans, seeing Tom roll over and perch over him between the boys legs.

"You're sur-"

"I'm sure.. stop checking in, alright?" Bill cut Tom off, rubbing the man's dreads playfully before watching Tom lean down to his neck, leaving small love bites along his neck.. to his chest, stomach, that damn tattoo.. before finally reaching the boys boxers.

He felt as Tom slipped them down, growing slightly self conscious when he saw Tom examining every aspect of it. He felt himself drip precum in tiny fragments.

Tom took his hand and wrapped it gently around the boys length, pumping his hand a couple times before taking the boy into his mouth. Bill hissed in pleasure, feeling the warmth and softness of the inside of toms mouth.. so wet, moist.. he arched his back slightly, tangling a hand into toms dreads that dangled down and tickled his hips.

Bill couldn't help but appreciate Tom as a whole, seeing him going down on the boy was definitely a sight but Tom had an amazing body. He wasn't ripped or anything but he was definitely toned more than average, he was so masculine despite having such a beautiful face. Tom was still pretty lean though, but damn.

He felt as Toms tongue looped around the head, Bill was quietly whimpering every so often as his lips parted, laying back in the white pillows with his black hair sprawled across the cotton fabric.

Hearing the soft moans and whimpers just fueled Tom more, he wanted to keep going.. but he knew Bill would probably cum faster than later due to his inexperience. He pulled off, a string of spit connecting Toms lip to Bills tip, which he just picked away.

Bill bit his lip, looking up at Tom as he pressed his knees together.

"Just a bit further, Bill." He whispered, kissing Bills cheek. He pulled the boys boxers off the rest of the way.

Tom leaned over to grab his jeans off the floor, rummaging through the denim to find a metallic packet with the outline of a thick circle. He dropped his jeans and then pulled the packet, tearing it open with his teeth as he shifted his boxers down. The man removed a lubricated latex condom from the packet, the yellow tint getting rolled over his own length.

Bill watched it all, intimidated by the size of Toms cock, it worried him a small bit.

"I don't have lube on me.. it's in my bag, in the van." Tom clarified, seeing the look of confusion on Bills face when he was presented with a condom.

"Lets just hope it's slippery enough," Tom giggled which caused Bill to do the same. It was the wording.

He hesitantly parted his knees as he felt Tom lean over him, looking down into the boys eyes as he lined up with Bills entrance.

At first, it hurt a bit. Bill didn't really like it, he winced and put a hand on Tom's chest to ask him to slow a bit. Just Tom's head was in, Tom looked down at the intimacy between their legs before smiling softly.

"Barely anything happened, Bill." He chuckled quietly. Bill just looked up at him, a pouty look on his face.

"Have you ever been on the receiving end?" Bill asked, quietly as he tried not to giggle.

"You're right.." Tom whispered, leaning down to suck on Bills neck.

He slowly pushed in a little more, hearing Bills sharp breaths as he pushed all the way in. After Bill eased a bit, he began pushing and pulling his abdomen slowly. He watched as Bills breaths got sharp, sucking in and showing his ribs. Bill quickly got used to it, delivering small and whimpy moans to Toms ear as he thrusted. Tom held onto his hips, pulling Bill closer as to be able to push in as deep as possible. Bills moans got slightly louder as Tom picked up the pace.

He arched his back off the bed, hearing the soft sounds of their skin clapping quietly together.

"T-Tom.." he whimpered, drown out by a gruffly breath of Tom's as he continued thrusting in and out of the boys thin frame.

"God.." Tom sighed, "I should've made you suck me off, at least.." he chuckled, kissing Bills cheek, "You're lucky it's your first time.." he whispered.

Bill's hand found Tom's dreads again, knotting his hand in the matted mess as his lips parted. He didn't retort anything back, arching his back a little harder and feeling their stomachs touch.

It wasn't very long before Bill felt small fragments of a warm substance batted against his stomach. No, he hadn't cum yet.. but he was damn near close, and might as well have with all the precum he was leaking out. Tom took notice as he felt the boys cock between their stomachs.

He kept his boney hands around Bills hips, speeding up slightly for a little before returning to his initial speed.

"You're so tight," he mumbled against Bills neck. Bill just smiled softly, his opposite hand finding toms back and scratched it lightly as he felt the knot in his stomach.

He knew now that he'd reached his potential, Bills lips parted widely as he let out a sort of high moan that Tom quickly muffled with his hand. He stared down at Bill, watching him fall apart.

"Not yet.. not yet, Bill. I'm almost there.." he whispered, seeing as Bill tensed up completely.

He kept eye contact with the boy as he felt himself come undone as well, watching as the boy bit his lip and arched his back, his eyes rolling.

"Look at me, Bill, look at me." Tom said, cupping his cheek as he watched the boys eyes strain to keep eye contact.

Tom let out a low moan as he felt Bill cum between their stomachs, he felt the condom get warmer and fill inside of Bill as he pushed in a couple final thrusts. And Bill felt it too, he felt all of it. He felt Tom twitch inside him before cumming, then he felt the bit of warmer warmth that stayed inside for a bit after they finished.

Tom had finally pulled out, seeing Bill shaking softly as he came down from his orgasm. The older twin tossed his condom towards the small trash can next to the bet, watching as Bill found something to clean his stomach with.

"You did so good, Bill." He whispered against Bills neck, climbing under the covers next to the boy. Bill reached to turn the light off as Tom spooned him, wrapping his muscular arm around Bills dainty waist.

"I'm sorry I didn't last longer.." Bill whispered, Tom just kissed his neck and shook his head.

"Shut up.. go to sleep," he whispered, kissing the back of Bills neck where another tattoo had been stabbed into his skin. Bill interlocked their fingers as he laid with his back against toms chest.

This is my first time writing proper fanfic in so long ! Sorry if it's not the best </3

[hellenhighwater]

i'm sure you've probably been asked this before but i'm new here and very curious: how did you come into ownership of your house and how are you paying for it? i recently moved in with my boyfriend and the housing situation is... dismal. and we're eventually moving into another house with a friend but we barely make enough money combined to support ourselves. i'm just curious as to what it takes to be content because you are living in such a dream house to me and i would love to achieve that one day. ty and have a great day!

I'm not going to pretend that my homeownership is some kind of one-man bootstraps success story; it's not. I got lucky in a lot of ways. It's a combination of stuff.

I haven't owned my house for long--it'll be two years this August. When I started saving for a house, I was lucky enough to be able to live with family and basically eliminate the majority of my living expenses, which allowed me to save a much higher percentage of my salary than I would otherwise have been able to save. I was driving an hour and a half for my daily commute, but it was worth it to not be paying rent. Having a bunch of roommates prior to that also helped. I have almost no debt--I did law school on 100% scholarship, and picked a cheap undergrad university. (This actually backfired--my credit score simply did not exist until waaaay later in my life than is recommended if you want a mortgage. I struggled to find a lender that would work with me even though I was stably employed and had a cash down payment ready.)

I also bought a home in a non-urban area; I live in a fairly small town. My house is also not very expensive; it was between $150-$200K when I bought it. That's due, in part, to the location (small town), the tiny lot (less than a quarter acre), the age (120+ years), and the need for a lot of superficial updates and repairs. It's structurally sound for the most part, but it's dated.

I'm a lawyer. It's easy to miss, since I post like an idiot, but I am regularly reminded that sometimes even morons pass the Bar. I don't make the kind of crazy money most people assume lawyers make, but for a single-person household I'm okay. I was able to make a fairly sizeable down payment--more than was strictly necessary, actually--so my monthly mortgage is actually less than $1k, which is still mindboggling to me. It's good, because this house DOES need work.

But with all that said, it still wasn't easy. I got my first job when I was a freshman in high school and I have been continuously employed since then. Between the ages of 18-28 there was never a time that I held less than two jobs; most of the time I had three, and it...sucked. It was fun, a lot of the time, but mostly that kind of unpredictable schedule is just exhausting at a subconscious level. I remember the week before the Bar, still working two jobs, being in the library at 3 am, my brain melting out my ears, and cruising Zillow listings for bombed-out houses in Detroit being sold for pennies on the dollar, thinking that if nothing else, I could buy one of those and make it work one repair at a time. I went to law school because I wanted to be able to buy my own house. I moved out of the city so I could buy my own house. I shaped a lot of my life around the need and want to have my own space. I have spent years sitting up late at night and looking at real estate listings I couldn't dream of affording.

I don't know if that helps. I guess the only advice I could give is that if homeownership is a big priority for you, maybe look for areas where real estate is affordable(ish; I know what it's like these days) and see what it would take for you to be able to live there. A lot of the time, if there's good bones to work with, the rest is just what you make of it.

[utilitycaster]

What are some of your favourite podcasts / podcast recs?

It's hard to pick a favorite though I will say at the moment Midst is the one I think I look forward to the most, so I'm just going to go through basically all podcasts I currently or relatively recently previously listened to and sort them by rough genre. Note that as with all recommendation requests it helps to know the vibe of what you're going for and what's important to you (I know I just was like hey I'll take most music recs but the commitment for music is like the length of a song, whereas podcasts/books/movies/tv are a bit more time put in)

Actual Play:

Longtime listener of NADDPod and TAZ which I'm guessing if you follow me you are broadly aware of but if not feel free to ask more; I also post about Worlds Beyond Number enough that you might know what it is. I checked out Burnt Cookbook party a while ago both because I liked Jenna Stoeber's work with Polygon and because someone asked me for Actual Play podcast-only recs with more than one woman or nb player that weren't RQG and I was like oh I should find some. Anyway it's quite good! it's definitely lower production values than bigger podcasts but the plot is highly original and really good, the vibes are fantastic, the characters are a lot of fun, and all in all worth checking out. I also do listen to the Re-Slayer's Take which I've really enjoyed! Everyone's good but while I was familiar with (and a fan of) Jasmine Bhullar and Jasper William Cartwright's work, Jasmine Chiong as Farah speaks to the Grouchy Old Hunter Woman fan in me and has been a personal standout. It is very heavily edited, which does take some getting used to. Also, I mentioned RQG (Rusty Quill Gaming). It comes with the caveat of "very good but slow to start and then doesn't really stick the landing, imo, though the epilogues help" but I can recommend with that warning.

Scripted Fiction

Camlann. Modern post-apocalyptic Arthuriana/Folklore of the British Isles, with some hints of other folklore as well. 1 season; hoping they get funding for a second because it was very well done and also I want Gwen and Morgan to kiss.

Midst. Hard to describe but if you follow me you've seen a lot of posts that might help. Extremely good! About to finish in a bit over a week's time! Check it out and I advice you check out the first 3 episodes at once to get a feel for it; the three-narrator thing is also "get used to it and it will be fine".

The Penumbra Podcast. Originally envisioned as an anthology podcast but then two specific settings (noir-y space opera and medieval court monster hunters) were very popular. Also nearing its end.

The Silt Verses. Quite literally everything on this list would be described as "New Weird" and "has queer characters" and this is maybe the New Weirdest. Anyway, set in a world where gods are real, require human sacrifice to live, and society is both very complicit and also uses the gods to sell shit. I think people who are mad about D20 or CR not being explicitly political enough should listen to it. Extremely good. Also in its endgame, but they've had a very drawn out schedule as of late.

Welcome to Night Vale. You are on Tumblr; presumably you know the drill. I can't say I'm like...super following what happens but it's one of those things that's been a constant in my life for over a decade and takes up a very pleasant hour-ish per month. This feels like damning with faint praise but the earlier stuff was great and it's still strong, it's just, you know, the inevitable slowness of an indefinitely long slice-of-life-ish show vs. the more plot-driven ones above.

Within the Wires. By one of the Night Vale Creators. I have a post about it but it's set on an alternate history Earth where a cataclysmic war/plague/various other bad things absolutely destroyed the population in the early 1900s, leading to a very different global society. Some people say the seasons are very uneven in quality. They are incorrect. The seasons follow different people and all are in the form of found audio, so they are all quite different, but it's entirely a matter of personal preference if you like a season or not; it's not that some are Objectively Better.

Wolf 359 finished a long time back and I haven't relistened since my original listen in like...2018, but of "podcasts that have finished" it's worth it. Weird space stuff.

Informative(?)

Home Cooking by Hrishikesh Hirway and Samin Nosrat; was a pandemic project that now only airs yearly, really, but worth checking out if you like cooking.

I found out about Home Cooking via Song Exploder, which is just Hrishikesh Hirway talking about songs. Great podcast; the editing is fascinating and I have found a lot of good music from it!

I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats. Has only two seasons but they are both very good if you like The Mountain Goats as a band.

No Such Thing as a Fish: the QI (British quiz show) (if you're British you know this better than I do) researches talk about weird facts and riff on them.

Sawbones: Justin McElroy and his wife Dr. Sydnee Smirl McElroy talk about weird medical history and dumb wellness trends on tiktok. This is one of the earliest podcasts I subscribed to back when I did not drive nearly as much.

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green. Has also completed and there's a book that's basically covering the same ground. It's not like, purely informative; it's very anecdotal (as is I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats) but I learned a lot from it.

Honorable mention: I just didn't have the time or energy to keep up with Ologies by Alie Ward but what I listened to was fun and interesting and my sibling is a big fan.

Comedy and Miscellany:

Beef and Dairy Network: also British, on the Max Fun network with the McElroys. Fucking weird. I debated putting this in the scripted fiction because it's basically "what if Welcome to Night Vale was a little less story focused but still had throughlines and was specifically about the cattle industry in some absurdist alternate version of our world" but stuck with comedy bc the absurdity outstrips the plot. It's weird!

My Brother, My Brother, and Me: you probably know this one; either you love it or you don't.

My Dad Wrote a Porno: also British and from what I understand a bigger deal over there. Has uh. reached completion, in that they decided they were done, but the books apparently go on (sorry Rocky I'm not buying them). A guy and his two good friends read and roast his father's self-published erotica e-books about Belinda Blumenthal, Pots and Pans saleswoman, ft. bad accents, corporate espionage, and, of course, The Duchess.

The Empty Bowl: Justin McElroy and Dan Goubert of Cerealously's ASMR podcast about cereal. legitimately has helped me calm down when anxious at night. I am not even a big cereal eater it's just entertaining and chill.

Anyway any other podcasts I have listened to I've either forgotten, weren't good enough to recommend, just disappeared without any conclusion [*cough* king falls am] or involve way more reservations than I am willing to go into without knowing more about what you are looking for.

[mishydraws]

Very... very unfortunate life update

Hi, everyone.

Ok, I don’t want to waste your time but I wanted to be upfront about what’s going on in my life just so you all know.

Last night I got what is probably one of the worst emails that could have ever appeared in my inbox? Our landlord has given us a 60-day notice to get out. For context, my mom and I have been living here since the year 2000. We have never been late on rent or missed a payment despite every difficulty life has thrown at us in that time and this has completely blindsided us.

We haven’t spoken to any of the neighbors yet but some of the wording on the notice makes me think that they may be kicking out the entire building. Or maybe they’re just targeting those of us in the non-renovated units because we’ve been here so long and they could charge a new tenant much more with a quick kitchen and bathroom upgrade. Renoviction is a new word I just learned. I don’t know. That’s what happened to my brother at his last apartment. They kicked out everyone in his building, renovated, raised the rent, then let new people move in.

They suddenly started increasing our rent every year like clockwork a few years ago so I’ve had a feeling they’ve been trying to price us out for a while but I didn’t know they could just… tell us to leave just because they can. Rent consistently paid up and everything for 24 years.

The notice we received really doesn’t say much so it’s all speculation I guess. It doesn’t state a reason why it just says we need to be gone by March 31st.

But basically, I’m really not doing well right now in all honesty. I slept for maybe an hour last night and it’s like a switch flipped in me as soon as I read the email. My stomach has had this weird knotted feeling ever since and I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes before needing to lie down again in case I either faint or vomit… I’m not sure which but it’s been this way since last night. I had to stand up at the sink to wash one singular dish from dinner and I could barely do it. At least I didn’t see the email until after I ate last night because I still have no appetite now.

However bad I’m feeling I know my mom is probably feeling worse. She has been for a while. She’s getting older and my dad is no longer alive. Aside from my brother and one irl friend I still see in person regularly, we have no family or other support system in this country and are well and truly on our own, staring down the barrel of homelessness if we can’t quickly secure a place and move decades worth of our life there before the end of March.

All of this to say, I don’t know what our usual art shenanigans here are going to look like during this time. I am incredibly stressed to the point where I am physically ill but I also can’t pause and step away because I do need the income that I receive from your support of me/my art here. It’s just the reality. I’ve never been particularly Big And Successful with what I do so your support means all the much more and makes a real impact on my life.

I am so sorry if this dampens your mood at all today or if you notice a decrease in the quality of art I’m able to deliver over the next few months but I will try my best to keep things rolling and let you know if there’s any particular delays to expect.

To top it off, I requested a tour of a nearby apartment last night (more expensive than our current) and the name of the person who just texted me back has the same name as our current landlord. Who wants to start taking bets? I know for a fact they own a lot of property in the area so this isn’t looking promising.

Anyways. Sorry for this downer of a post. If we’re not homeless in 2 months then… I dunno. I’ll have somewhere indoors to do art? Yay? You can imagine the housing market we’re dealing with being in California. The prospect of moving at this point has always been one of my biggest fears but we’ll see if we get lucky real fast 😢

If you've ever thought about supporting my Patreon or anything else, now and over the next few months might be a good time if you can swing it. Maybe it'll help us secure a place to move if I can point to it and be like 'Look! A whole income!' 🥲 Idk man.

There's an art update in the (public) post I made if you want to see what we're at least trying to work on for sticker club through all of this.

Mishy

[girlnextmorgue]

Helen Otis x Reader: All Good Things To Those Who Wait

Guess who's back with another Helen fic ... Hi. Sorry I couldn't help myself and had to write another one sooo thar she blows. This is part 3 of a series that I may or may not continue ... you can find the previous parts here (1 and 2) and you can find the postings I have on AO3 here!! That's all enjoy ok

-

It was late, one o’clock, maybe one thirty in the morning. The vast majority of those that had been occupying the living room had long since retired to their rooms, choosing the comfort of their own beds over restless sleep and neck pain in the morning. The real movie night was long over, but two remained, nestled in opposite corners of the loveseat. 

The movie of choice was The Silence of the Lambs, per (Y/N)’s request. It’d been fourth on the roster (watch order warfare was not something that (Y/N) was going to willingly involve themselves with) and they were determined to see it through. 

Helen was half asleep on his side of the couch. He’d meant to stay awake for the whole movie, he really had, but spending time in a roomful of idiots had sapped all of his energy. So he dozed off, his elbow propped on the armrest to keep his head from dropping. 

(Y/N), however, was awake and alert as Buffalo Bill shouted down at his captive, though they were not paying much attention to the screen at all. How could they, with Helen next to them? They’d already seen the movie anyhow, and despite it being one of their favorites it’d really just become more of an excuse to spend some time with him. 

But now he was basically asleep, which would not do at all. 

“Helen.” (Y/N) called quietly, a halfhearted attempt at rousing him. He didn’t stir. They tried again.

“Helen.” Still nothing.

They gave up on trying for a bit, opting to just stare at him before trying to wake him up again. Helen was one of the most gorgeous people (Y/N) had ever laid eyes on; this was something they had been sure of since the day they’d met him. But he looked a little different when he was asleep. When he was awake, his eyebrows were usually furrowed in anger or annoyance (or sometimes concern) and his mouth was usually turned downwards in a pout. Now, he looked relaxed and at peace, a blanket tossed over his shoulders to keep him warm. (Y/N) wondered what he might be dreaming about.

Suddenly, they had an idea. A devious grin spread across (Y/N)’s face as they scooted as close to Helen as possible without disturbing him. They leaned over him carefully, trying not to get distracted by just how close their face was to his face. Placing their lips near his ear, (Y/N) blew.

Helen jolted up in surprise, the side of his head smacking (Y/N) square in the nose. They fell onto their back dramatically, laughing as they held their nose with one hand. 

“Sorry! Sorry… Are you okay?” They asked from where they lay, still in a fit of giggles. 

Helen glared daggers at them, blue eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a taught frown. If only he knew the things that look did to (Y/N)... 

“What the hell did you do that for?” He spat, rubbing the side of his head as he kept eye contact with them. 

(Y/N)’s grin turned from cheeky to sheepish. They felt small under his gaze, but not really in a bad way. Something in their chest fluttered. “You fell asleep…”

“And you couldn’t have woken me up in a normal way?”

“I tried…!” They said defensively, still avoiding eye contact and mumbling the next part so that they wouldn’t be heard, “You just look really hot when you’re all mad at me…”

Helen’s angry expression morphed into a confused one. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” (Y/N) sat upright, scrambling to change the subject. “Your head. Does it still hurt? Let me see.” They shifted closer to him again, gently grabbing his wrist so they could move it from where he still held his head. 

“It’s-” Helen was about to protest (he had no idea what they’d be able to do about a bruise on his head) until he felt (Y/N)’s fingers in his hair, lightly touching the spot where he’d hit their nose. His breath hitched.

“Does that hurt?” They asked quietly, looking him in the eye. 

Helen struggled to find words for a moment. When he finally did, his voice cracked. “N-no.” 

“M’kay…” (Y/N) hummed, their eyes flitting back to where their hand sat in his hair. They ran their fingers through his hair for real, and he had to restrain himself from leaning into their touch.

“You have really nice hair, y’know. It’s soft.” They complimented, retracting their hand and looking at him again. Their faces were close, and Helen swallowed thickly at the proximity. “Real pretty, too.”

“You think my hair’s… pretty?” Helen asked, his face burning. He silently thanked whatever god there was that the only light in the room came from the long forgotten TV. The last thing he wanted was for (Y/N) to see the kind of effect they were having on him. 

“I think you’re pretty, dumbass.” (Y/N) responded matter-of-factly. 

Helen let out a choked noise, taken aback by the sudden confession. “What.”

(Y/N) furrowed their eyebrows, seemingly unphased by their own admission. “Dude. Do you not see yourself?”

“You…? You think I’m pretty?” Helen was dumbfounded. It felt like all of his wildest dreams were coming true and that he was going to die at the same time. He’d never been called pretty before; maybe only as an insult from an old school bully or even Jeff, but the way (Y/N) said it made his heart flutter and his head feel light.

“Um, yes?” (Y/N) answered like it was obvious. “I mean, come on, you’ve got this gorgeous hair, the loveliest eyes I’ve ever looked into, and uh, your lips, well, uh…” (Y/N) trailed off, eyes trained on Helen’s lips. They reached up to graze his jaw with their fingers lightly, looking into his eyes again. There was no going back now. “Uh, this is stupid, probably, but, can I?”

Helen sucked in a shaky breath, something that was not lost on (Y/N). “Look, we don’t have to, if-”

“I want you to.” He cut them off hastily, a hint of desperation in his voice. (Y/N) would have kissed him stupid right then if they hadn’t felt the need to tease him about it. They smiled mischievously. “Want me to what?”

“(Y/N)-”

“I won’t do it unless you say what you want.”

And Helen really must’ve been desperate, because he conceded almost immediately. “Kiss me. Please.” 

“Fuck. I guess I will, then.” (Y/N) mumbled, leaning in carefully. Their lips brushed his for a moment before they kissed him for real, one hand cupping his face and the other moving to rest at his waist. 

Helen’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt their lips on his, hands hovering nervously at their hips. (Y/N)’s lips were slightly chapped (probably because they chewed at them all the time). Helen didn’t mind. The kiss was a chaste one, but to him it was magical, and before he knew it (Y/N) was pulling away, beaming at him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” They breathed, their thumb rubbing circles into his jaw. 

“How long?” Helen asked dumbly, brain preoccupied with they’re touching me and oh my god we just kissed and holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. 

(Y/N) looked bashful. “Um, since I first saw you, I guess. You looked at me like you wanted to kill me and I think that was what did me in.” They laughed, the hand that was resting on Helen’s cheek moving to scratch the back of their neck. 

“Oh.” Helen breathed. So they had liked him all this time and he hadn’t noticed? At all? Maybe he was just really bad at differentiating platonic affection from romantic interest… man, he needed to make more friends. Helen brushed off those thoughts before they could get overwhelming.

 “So, what, you like it when I’m mad at you? You’re weird.” He said instead, a small smile betraying his teasing. 

“Oh, shaddap.” (Y/N) rolled their eyes, the TV screen catching their attention as they averted their gaze. “Shit. This is where it starts to get good.” 

Helen followed their eyes back to the screen. Hannibal Lecter was strapped into something that looked like a cross between a stretcher and a hand truck. He was talking to an important looking woman that Helen didn’t know the name of. This is what he got for falling asleep during the movie. 

He was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was happening when (Y/N) tugged him into their side, a surprised “oof!” leaving him at the contact. Their arm snaked around his waist and even though they had just kissed Helen could still feel his heart going into overdrive. He looked up at them, eyes wide. 

“What?” (Y/N) questioned, cocking an eyebrow at him. “If you’re gonna fall asleep again, you’ll be a little bit more comfortable, at least.”

Helen couldn’t (or didn’t want to) argue with that, so he let his head loll onto their shoulder as he dozed, the smell of lavender lulling him back to sleep.

[coolcataetheryte]

I've never posted a fanfic on this platform before, so sorry if anything looks weird. The characterization may be a bit iffy *shrug* I wrote this at like 3am. Also, I don't write smut often, so I expect this to feel about the level of a cheesy romance novel, and maybe that's fine. Can you imagine Estinien on the cover of one of those?

Summary: The WoL is feeling burnt out and lonely, Estinien shows up and helps her relax.

Pairing: Delphinium(WoL)xEstinien

Rating: NC-17

Tags: first time, uuuh size kink i guess? Barely, basically pwp, minor plot, I'm not sure what else. I don’t do this often, sorry lol so i’m not sure what should be tagged

Word count: 3,250

Delphinium sighed as she closed the door to her inn room behind her. The sound of the other scions’ drunken merrymaking muffled to a whisper and she was thankful for it. Of course, she loved celebrating a job well done as much as the next adventurer but once things got too loud and rowdy, it was time to make her exit. The boisterous cheering and laughter and music was just too overwhelming.

She took a few deep breaths then simply stood there, staring at nothing really. The room was a bit stuffy and her clothing felt stifling. Her rapier felt heavy at her hip. She was exhausted.

She finally peeled herself from the door and laid down her weapon on the bench. Her fingers brushed her harp as she withdrew her hand. She stopped and gave it a long look. She hadn’t played it since becoming a red mage some time ago. It was gathering dust and probably had fallen out of tune. Tired as she was, maybe a little bit of mindless work would do her well. She picked it up gently and sat down right where she was on the floor. The old wooden boards creaked slightly under her. She began cleaning and tuning the neglected instrument, all other noises fading into the background and her mind fell more at ease as she focused. Her fingers worked meticulously. Her ears missed nothing, quickly fixing any sour notes. Her scaly tail swished gently behind her the more she got into it.

Quite some time had passed when she gave the harp a satisfied nod. The noise from the lobby had disappeared. They’d finally decided to call it a night. That meant it was likely around midnight now. She hadn’t meant to stay up so late but admittedly, doting on the harp had somehow given her a bit of a second wind. She looked around the room absently, fingers just barely touching the strings and creating a mere whisper of song. What should she do now? Her eyes fell back on the instrument in her hands. It’d been a while since she sang. While less so than playing the harp, as she did sing to herself on occasion, she hadn’t truly sang and she began to feel like perhaps she should.

She loved singing. She always had. It was why she initially sought the way of the bard to begin with. To use song in battle had started to strip the joy from it, however. A side effect she never would have expected. That was the reason she turned to the blade. The others of course had questioned her decision. She played her role as bard well, and no doubt they enjoyed to hear it even if their focus was battle and not her performance. She’d told them it was simply to strengthen herself and feel more helpful with damage. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole, intimate, personal truth that she had never told anyone.

In a swift motion she stood with the harp and made her way across the room to open the door to the balcony. The night was crisp and quiet, with naught but a few insects disrupting the silence. Her chest swelled as she breathed deep of the cool air. It was only when a small shiver ran through her that she realized she’d been sweating. She paid no mind and began to string together notes that drifted into the night. Then her sweet voice joined in. It was an old song. One she didn’t even remember learning. It was simply part of her core despite having few memories from before her arrival in Gridania on that carriage. A lullaby from her people she presumed, with its soft melody and lilting sung notes.

Her song faded into an echo as she finished. A small smile graced her lips.

“That was lovely.”

She nearly jumped out of her scales at the sudden voice. Normally it was difficult to startle the Warrior of Light but Estinien had a way of catching her off guard randomly. Had he been there the whole time? Why did he jump onto her balcony of all places? He was probably lost. She gave him an exasperated look before turning on her heel to return to her room. His footsteps followed behind her.

“My intent wasn’t to frighten you,” he said.

He seemed sincere but she could hear the mirth in his voice. Yet somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. Without a word she placed the harp in its previous resting spot. She found herself simply standing and staring at nothing again.

The material of Estininen’s trousers caught gently on one of her tail spikes and she became aware of his presence directly behind her. He was close, a hair’s breadth from her back.

“What is it,” he asked. “You only stand about like this when something is on your mind.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and that was all it took for her demeanor to completely break away. She relaxed back against his body with a sharp sigh, her head resting just barely at his navel.

“Delphinium?”

He sounded concerned. She gently placed her hand over his. His hand felt so large. She imagined what they might be like holding her more intimately. She quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Sure, they had their banter, and yes, many knew it was flirtatious but that was all it had ever been and this.. was entirely too comfortable. She couldn’t afford herself this. She suddenly wanted desperately to move away from him but she was stuck between him and the bench. She decided on a side step but, in her exhaustion, quite embarrassingly caught the edge of Estinien’s boot. He caught her with ease before she could fall to the ground. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was nothing in the world but the concern in his eyes as they searched her own.

Her breath hitched when she was pressed against him. Her feet left the floor, and it took her a moment to realize he had lifted her to crush her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“Whatever it is,” he said quietly. “I hope that you would trust me enough to tell me.”

The dam broke. She gripped his tunic as her tears streamed down cheeks. Estinien held tighter and gently lowered to sit on the floor as she sobbed into his chest. She easily fit into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “It’s just all been so much. I’ve done so much in so little time. I barely have any time to rest. I always have to be strong for everyone. I’m just so..tired.”

He said nothing but continued to hold her close. A hand stroked her hair gently. After a while, she calmed, taking deep breaths.

“You must think so little of me now,” she chuckled dryly. “The great hero, crying like a child.”

“No,” he said. “I know how much you hide your emotion. You bear quite a burden and you seldom let anyone see what you truly feel. I know how I seem, but I do understand you.”

She looked up at him at his words. Being half his size, she’d never seen his face so close before. She’d also never been so vulnerable with anyone, yet here she was looking so deeply at him with tear stained cheeks. He used a thumb to wipe a tear from her eye, then his hand drifted to caress her cheek. His thumb dared to ever so gently brush across her lip, the pink of her lipstick leaving a faint streak on his skin.

It was Delphinium that closed the distance between their lips. She gave in to the desire she held since she first battled alongside him on the bridge. He didn’t resist her, secretly having had the same thoughts since that moment. He’d cast them aside as he continued to focus on his revenge, but now there was nothing to hold him back. He helped her adjust into a more comfortable position as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands found their way into his long tresses, while Estinien’s hands rested comfortably at her waist and back. The tiny moan as Delphinium allowed his tongue access sent a shiver through him. They stayed there a while. There was no battle for dominance. Delphinium gladly gave into him, letting someone else take the lead of something for once.

Somewhere they’d ended up with Delphinium on the floor beneath him. His lips found their way to her neck, and she finally registered her horns scraping uncomfortably against the unforgiving wood as she arched a bit into him. She stopped his hand as it began tugging at the laces of her blouse. He paused, looking at her.

“Let's have a bath,” she said breathlessly.

“After. We’d need another once we’re through.”

She gave a bit of a snort at that. “Please. I want you to bathe with me. We should be clean before we do anything.”

He relented easily. One more kiss, then he helped her to her feet. She held his hand and led him to the washroom with a smile.

As the tub filled, Delphinium felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had her back to her companion, but could hear him beginning to undress. She weighed the possible consequences of following through with her actions. Was this a good idea? Could she afford to be involved with someone so intimately? Could she allow herself?

A hand on her arm turned her toward Estinien. She looked up at him immediately, trying to ignore his naked groin just below her eye level. He slowly began to unlace her blouse. He looked at her, silently asking permission to remove it. She nodded. As he worked to undress her, her eyes scanned over the scars decorating Estinien’s upper body. They were many, some old and faint, some clearly more recent. When he knelt down to remove her boots, she caught sight of his gnarled shoulder. Without thinking, she reached toward it, her fingers carressing over the marred flesh as gently as they had the harp strings earlier that night. He looked up at her and she muttered an apology, removing her hand.

“It’s all right,” he said and continued the task at hand.

Now both fully nude, a blush crept over Delphinium’s face. She noticed Estinien’s cheeks began to dust with pink as well and smiled. She took his hand and guided him into the warm water with her. Seeing his scars reminded her just how strong and resilient the Elezen was. To hell with her doubts, Estinien could handle himself. The fear of losing him would always be there, but she knew he would not fall easily. She was tired of handling everything alone. It was clear he felt the same.

The tub was more than large enough for them and she was thankful not to have ended up cramped together. She’d never been so close to anyone, let alone been naked with them. But she was the one that wanted this and wouldn't back out now. Estinien watched her while she began to lather soap onto a cloth. She tried not to appear so nervous under his gaze.

She looked at him, this time being the one to silently ask permission. He nodded just as she had. She washed him gently. Upon reaching the scar on his shoulder, he placed a hand over hers. She understood, relinquishing the cloth to him. She found another and scrubbed her face, removing her lipstick. Wiping under her eyes, she realized how smeared her makeup must’ve been, and how silly she likely looked. She laighed to herself, drawing Estinien’s attention.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Nothing. Just imagining how I must've appeared this whole time. I’m sorry for suddenly crying at you. And sorry if your tunic is stained.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Pay no mind. I have other tunics. I’m honored you shared your tears with me.”

She smiled and kissed his hand gently. “Let me wash your back?”

He nodded, then turned to give her access, moving his hair off to the side. She rubbed the cloth over him, again noting all of his scars. She kissed a thin scar near the base of his neck. He turned to her and she was about to apologize when he captured her lips with his own once more.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

She looked at him confused.

“Your back? I should return the favor.”

“Right,” she laughed awkwardly and quickly turned away from him.

He didn’t hide his chortle. He was a bit rougher with his washing than Delphinium would normally be. However, she could tell he was cleaning her scales with the same precision he cleaned his weapons. She relaxed into it with a sigh, drawing her knees up and leaning her chin on them to keep her head above the water. He was nearly massaging her at this point and she felt like she could fall asleep like this.

Estinien pulled her into his lap, her back flush against his chest. He seemed to ignore the small spikes of her tail biting into his stomach. She shivered against him as her breasts were exposed above the water. She became more alert again when she felt a hand glide up around one of them. Of course, she couldn’t sleep just yet. This is what they both had been looking forward to.

She was aware of her short stature, but now with his hand covering her ample breast she felt downright tiny. It was as thrilling as she imagined. She let out a breathy sigh as his fingers teased the bud of her nipple. She felt his other hand move downward, brushing over the deep scar on her lower abdomen. She knew he must’ve seen it earlier. She expected he’d ask about it, and was a little surprised he hadn’t. It didn’t necessarily bother her to speak of it, but it did bring back memories of awful pain. His hand didn’t linger over the scar for long, and drifted lower still.

Another sigh left her lips when his long fingers met their destination between her thighs.

She squirmed slightly at the sensation his rubbing fingers sent through her. A moan escaped her throat and that seemed to encourage him quite a lot. She felt his erection growing beneath her, the length of it coming to rest against the cleft of her heated folds. He continued his motions. Her breathing became more erratic, and her moans more frequent. She never thought he’d bring her to the edge so quickly but she couldn’t hold back.

She couldn’t help but rock her hips into his massaging fingers, the motion also grinding against the erection between her legs.

Estinien pressed his lips to her shoulder, stifling a heated groan that went straight to Delphinium’s core. She climaxed with a shout that echoed embarrassingly through the large washroom. His fingers lingered a few moments longer as her spasms calmed. Then, he moved to grasp his length. He held her impossibly closer as he stroked himself to his own completion. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with him breathing heavily in her ear, she would worry about her tail possibly drawing blood from his crushing embrace.

He finished with a grunt then finally loosened his hold. They both needed more.

“Bed, now,” Delphinium said.

They wasted no time. Drying just enough so as not to slip, he carried her easily to the bedroom. He all but tossed her onto the soft bed and immediately he was crawling over her, planting a trail of kisses along her thigh all the way up to her breasts. She moaned quietly as he mouthed at the perked nipple, her hands gripped his hair gently, urging him on. His tongue flicked over the bud, earning him a louder sound and a twitch. Satisfied, he continued his trail upward, finally capturing her lips for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

Again, she allowed his tongue access, gasping against his lips while his thumbs firmly caressed her nipples. Her legs spread wider of their own accord and she was beginning to ache for him.

“Estinien,” she breathed. “I need you now.”

Without hesitation, Estinien sat back to hold her hips. He gently probed the tip of his erection at her entrance. She watched him eagerly, the difference in size wildly apparent. Neither had any idea if it would truly fit, but by the twelve, they weren’t about to stop now.

Their eyes met and she gave a quick nod. The tip plunged inside her not a moment later. She gasped out a moan and tangled her hands into the bedsheet as he slowly slid the rest of his length into her heat. He grunted out his own pleasured moan as it engulfed him. He paused, the only sound was their panting breaths. He gave her a minute to adjust to him. Then, at her nod, began a quick pace of thrusting. While it would’ve been lovely to take it slow, they both desperately needed this connection and release. There was no way he could hold himself back now.

Delphinium’s fervor matched his, a string of moans falling from her parted lips. She watched him with half lidded eyes, memorizing the way his muscles clenched with each movement.

Estinien carefully pulled her up into his lap. She let out another moan of pleasure as the new position pushed him deeper still. Her hands glided over him, feeling his chiseled body. She kissed his chest and held tight as he began to move once more. His thrusts were quickly growing desperate, she was nearing her limit as well. His passionate, breathy, moans were right in her ear again. Her own sounds had gone up an octave. With a few more thrusts, she was pushed again over the edge into that wonderful, white hot pleasure. Moments later she felt him pulsating within her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

Panting, he stroked her freckled cheek and realization settled in. She saw the streak of panic in his eyes and gently shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

His mind flashed back to the scar he’d felt on her stomach and he relaxed, understanding.

They held each other close as they caught their breath, and the high passed. Gently, he laid her on the bed and disappeared for a moment.

Delphinium was already beginning to let sleep take her when he returned. She startled slightly when the warm, wet cloth touched her, but once she understood she allowed herself to fall into her slumber.

Estinien cleaned them carefully. While typically he wouldn’t bother, he remembered how much Delphinium hated to feel sticky. He would do anything for her. He would die for her. Of course, he’d try very hard to never let it come to that.

He settled them under the blankets and watched the sun slowly light up the room.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I made a post a year ago, I think, about how I enjoy that this site has a few blogs that are entirely dedicated to being obsessed with Tim Key, so everyone once in a while I’ll open Tumblr and be flooded with images of Tim Key, because the Tim Key blogs have decided to be active today, and I guess it’s Tim Key Monday.

Well, this time, for once, it’s been Tim Key Week in my comedy calendar, and it’s been a good time. Here are some things this week has covered:

- It started because Tim Key recently went on RHLSTP, and someone recommended it to me, so I listened to that latest episode. This was the first episode I’d ever heard of that podcast (aside from that YouTube video of the car crash with Stewart Lee) because I’m not a massive fan of Richard Herring, but I really enjoyed that one. So then I listened to the other three appearances that Tim Key has made on there, all within the last few years, because Tim Key has been very busy with writing books lately (just putting out his third book since the start of COVID) and keeps going on there to promote them. But then he ends up not promoting them, and just spending the whole time talking shit about Richard Herring.

God, he’s ridiculously quick. He just goes right into character and stays there the entire time, he can take anything Richard Herring says and spin it around in a split second and hit him back with it. Really sharp and can make absolutely anything funny. Literally anything. I re-watched that DVD extra interview he did with Simon Amstell last night, and that really highlighted how much he can make the most mundane thing in the world hilarious.

It's amazing style, I think. Be just a few steps outside of what is normal and reasonable to say, but say it with full confidence, and then ask other people what’s wrong with them when they don’t keep up. I’d previously seen him do it for five sets of No More Jockeys, and delighted in hearing he’s like that all the time.

- I enjoyed that, so got sent some more Tim Key things. His Radio 4 documentaries, of which I had heard one before, because it featured Kitson, and earlier this year I did my huge trek through every weird tiny thing where Daniel Kitson might have had even the most obscure role (I watched a terrible movie called Dog Eat Dog, the rabbit hole went deep, and the rabbit hole contained a Tim Key documentary about a Russian novelist). But I hadn’t heard some others, so I spent an evening listening to Tim Key talk about Russian poets and writers and how to start a novel, and that was lovely. I enjoyed that.

- But the main things I got were a couple of recordings of his old stand-up shows, and this album he recorded in 2010, called On a Boat With a String Quartet, where he reads poetry and talks shit to Tom Basden. I really, really enjoyed listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. I realized I have heard that before, as they were together on season 2 of Mark Watson Makes the World Substantially Better, and on Mark Watson’s Live Address to the Nation, and they did basically the same thing there. This album made me remember how much I enjoyed those radio shows, partly because of how much I enjoy listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. “Wow,” I thought. “I wish there were only some way of hearing more of Tim Key reading poetry while talking shit to Tom Basden.” Then I remembered he has a five-season radio show that I’ve somehow never heard before.

- So next on the list was the Late Night Poetry Programme, which I’d been vaguely meaning to listen to “at some point” for ages, and this was clearly that time. God, it was good. I’d heard Tim’s poems before in various contexts, but really enjoyed hearing so many of them at once. And the soundscape was nice. And of course it was fun when he talked shit to Tom Basden.

I think the first few seasons were pretty well perfect, just those two in a studio with little hints of their life outside it, dropped through a line or a word or two, throwaway jokes where the meaning hits you a little at a time as you realize what it implies about the life they live. It was cool at first, when they started opening it up and we actually saw that bigger world that they’d been teasing for a while. By season 5, I have to admit, I felt like it had gone too far. Which they acknowledged several times, Tom Basden making comments that they’d gotten too far away from season 1 and Tim Key doesn’t even read his poems anymore. But I did kind of think the character was right. The sitcom was still fun, I enjoyed every episode. But I think my favourties were when it was just two people in a studio reading poetry.

Katy Wix was good, though. And I did enjoy the guest stars throughout all five seasons. That turned into a game that I was able to play due to my abysmal lack of talent for identifying people based on the sound of their voice alone. Because I’m so bad at it, I avoided looking at the notes beforehand, and tried to guess who that episode’s guest voice actor was, and would then hear in the credits whether I was right. I was quite bad at it. I went through an entire episode with Sally Phillips, and two entire episodes with Mike Wozniak, convinced that they were played by people I’d never heard before, even though I know both those voices quite well.

I only guessed a few. By the end of Isy Suttie’s episode, I was about 80% sure it was Suttie, and then I turned out to be right. I got Bridget Christie’s voice right away, though that’s partly because I knew from a No More Jockey’s episode that she’d show up at some point, and she hadn’t been on it yet and this was the last episode, so it had to be her. The only voice where I was immediately, 100% sure who it was was when they had Liam Williams on. Absolutely no question there. That is an extremely distinctive voice, it was almost distracting because every time he spoke I just thought “Oh it’s Liam Williams” rather than believing it was a farmer or whatever.

- After that, I wanted even more Key & Basden, and I remembered how Stuart Goldsmith says that his best evidence for why TV isn’t a meritocracy is that Cowards never got more than three TV episodes. So I downloaded those TV episodes. But of course I have to do things in order, so first I downloaded the radio episodes. Did the radio show and then the TV show.

I really liked those, and I’m often not big on sketch comedy. These were fucking great, though. The TV show had quite a few sketches that I could see myself re-watching on YouTube one at a time. And that’s nice, because for years I’ve done that regularly with Mitchell and Webb, but these days I watch those and have trouble enjoying them as much because, you know, transphobia. I guess I should stop being shocked when it turns out that Footlights men from the early 00s may not be the most clued-up people in the world about trans issues (Webb, Ayoade). But if Tim Key or Tom Basden or those other two guys (sorry, I do vaguely know they both have quite good careers in their own right, but in my mind they are those other two guys) in Cowards have any views on trans people whatsoever, I’d like them to keep that to themselves so I can have some new sketches to re-watch on YouTube without feeling guilty. No more Footlights guys from the early 00s should be allowed to talk about trans people (except John Oliver, actually Mark Watson’s made some pro-trans rights statements too, they can stay).

Anyway, the point is that I really enjoyed the sketches. They all seemed so cohesive – the characters, and the plots, and the actors. A lot of sketches didn’t end on huge punchlines, which I always think is the sign of a good sketch, if it’s funny enough to get laughs throughout and not just for a twist at the end. Really good stuff. I see Stuart Goldsmith’s point.

- Then I still hadn’t had enough Key & Basden on Radio 4, so I downloaded the sitcom Party. That was pretty good. The jokes were consistent and funny, which is the main point. I have to admit the premise didn’t work quite as well today as it might have then, which is not Tom Basden’s fault, as you can’t have expected him to foresee the fall of Western civilization back in 2010. In 2010, I remember that the idea of naïve youths involved in politics was funny. Straw feminists and all that. Whereas these days, the situation is so dire that if I see a young person who’s politically engaged, I don’t want to make fun of them for being underinformed anymore. I just want to say “Thank you for doing anything besides making Tik-Tok videos and listening to Joe Rogan while Rome burns.”

Having said that, the point of this show was not exactly to be hard-hitting satire of student politics, it was to be a vehicle for jokes. And it did that very well. It was funny. The characters were good, too. Five different main characters it a lot for a sitcom that started with only four half-hour episodes, but by the end of the very first episode, I had a clear idea of who was who. I could tell their voices apart, which helps (Tim Key’s voice I know, Tom Basden’s voice sounds a bit too similar to Johnny Sweet’s but I could tell them apart if I tried hard enough, I can tell Katy Wix’s Welsh accent apart from Anna Crilly). And each character was sufficiently distinctive for me to see why they were there.

- Just today, I watched The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island, written by and starring Key & Basden. I enjoyed it. Short films, or films in general, aren’t hugely my thing. But I liked the pretty shots of English countryside. I liked the dismal shots of the ocean in bad weather and little rowboats and the old house. And it was a nice story starring a folk singer and an eccentric person, and what more could I want out of some characters?

I know Tim Key has done a bunch of short films before, some with Tom Basden. The only other one I’ve seen is Very Few Fish, which I watched entirely because of that bit at the end of a No More Jockeys episode, where Tim lists all the Taskmaster contestants he has or hasn’t touched, and says he’s kissed Aisling Bea, on screen. I found out that he’d kissed her in this weird short film written by Tom Basden, so I watched that out of curiosity.

And found… it was quite a good film, probably deserved to get more commissioned. But I didn’t like the bit where he made out with Aisling Bea. I’d just watched all this No More Jockeys, where he’s in his house and playing himself so I felt like I knew him. And I don’t want to see people I know graphically make out with other people. It’s like when your friend is doing PDA at a party. It’s even weirder than when a stranger does it, because you just think, I don’t want to see you that way. I know you, I like you, that side of you is meant to be kept behind closed doors please. That’s what Very Few Fish felt like. Like following a friend on a date and watching him make out with someone. It was weird.

That’s an interesting level of parasocial relationship, isn’t it? Watching No More Jockeys has parasoically made me feel like that guy is my friend, but the effect is not for me to try to hang out with him on social media or anything creepy like that, the only effect is I don’t want to watch him kiss anyone. That’s probably okay, as far as these things go.

- Last night, I tried the first episode of We Need Answers. I’d have absolutely loved to see the stage version of this, I have collected pictures and short videos of it from various corners of the internet (including those fucking unhinged promo videos on Alex Horne’s YouTube channel that introduce the contestants), they had all the best comedians and it seems like a great showcase of my peak area of interest, which is 00s Edinburgh comedy.

However, I’ve always avoided the TV show because the list of guests is awful. Almost no comedians, heavy on presenters and reality show people. It didn’t help that the first episode featured noted transphobe Germaine Greer (also, as I always feel the need to add when her name comes up, she wasn’t some perfect feminist who was ruined by going TERF, I always disliked some of the comments she’d made about cis women who didn’t fit the type of womanhood that she liked, and I hate the she’s held us as an example of great feminism). So I’m open to giving it another shot. Does anyone have opinions on whether it gets better in the future? The first episode was all right, but I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

So that is my Tim Key binge. Does anyone have recommendations for things I’ve missed? Especially short films, I know there are other good ones. Happy Tim Key Thursday, everyone!

[bigskydreaming]

I actually can not believe I've never posted this X-Men headcanon that turned into a whole treatment/outline, but for those few followers who know who Dallas Gibson aka Specter is, or Laynia Petrovna aka Darkstar, or just anything about Academy X in general.....enjoy! (You actually don't have to know anything about Dallas or Laynia to follow this, I don't think.)

Anyway, I give you:

THE GREAT MANIFESTO OF WHAT IF DALLAS GIBSON WAS THE SECRET LOVE CHILD ONE NIGHT STAND CHILD OF BOBBY DRAKE AND LAYNIA PETROVNA: A CRACK FIC THEORY OUTLINE SOMETHING IN THREE PARTS

(Like I GENUINELY thought I had posted this before but found this in my drafts so apparently not. Anyway, I feel like this is particularly relevant again after Laynia was just brought out of comic book limbo as the head of a mutant mercenary group in the wake of Krakoa's fall. She's massively OOC in the one issue of X-Factor released so far and I don't like it, but it did reignite this particular headcanon so....there's that I guess).

Anyway! My treatment for revealing Dallas Gibson as actually being Dallas Drake, secret child of Bobby Drake the Iceman and Laynia Petrovna the Darkstar from when they were on the Champions together when they were both only nineteen.....without actually destroying continuity to make it work!

A triptych of linked five issue minis:

ICEMAN AND DARKSTAR: SHADOW GAMES

ICEMAN: A HOUSE OF DRAGONS

DARKSTAR: SONS OF SNOW AND SHADOW

So I have approximately 80 different pitches for what to do with Iceman at any given time, but let's go with one that I know would never in a million years happen purely because the X-Office will never let the 05 be the ages I perceive them as which is mid to late thirties at this point. Like I picture Bobby as around thirty-six or so, though for him it actually makes sense for him to be eternally portrayed as LOOKING like he's in his early 20s, since that was the age he first transmuted to his ice form and so makes sense to be his default template/molecular blueprint his power resets him to every time he has to make a new body from scratch.

Anyway, wildly self-indulgent pitch ahead, which ties into a cracky headcanon I've had since Academy X, a couple OCs, and combines my ideas for giving Bobby an antagonist of his own, more characters to interact with other than major X-Men so his story beats aren't reliant on whatever's going on with other X-Men and who's available,  and gives him concrete reasons to want to level up quickly in terms of how much social influence he wields among mutantkind, take more prominent/proactive stances on things, etc. While still leaving room for him to be goofy and always trying to use humor to seem more relatable, less threatening, etc.

So. I'm picturing this as a triptych like Sabretooth, three interlocked minis of five issues each that form a trilogy by the end.

First mini:

ICEMAN AND DARKSTAR: SHADOW GAMES

ISSUE ONE:

First issue opens with Bobby in his apartment in LA, sometime after he's left the most recent X-Men lineup and is back to living off of Krakoa. He's just gotten in and is going through his mail where he comes across a card with no return address. Opening it, he finds its a condolence card that says "Thinking of you on this anniversary of such a tragic day." His internal monologue, conveyed in caption boxes and a key element of this whole mini, shows he's totally confused by this. He has no idea why this date would hold any special significance, or who would have sent the card or why. (The specific date would just be somewhere around the date of publication, in a world where this actually got published, lol. Let's go with April 27th, for instance).

Deciding to just shrug it off as some weird thing, Bobby's basically just being moody for a page or two of reflection before Scott calls. They're trying to do better about keeping in touch even when they're not on the same team. Some generic catching up, and Bobby eventually mentions he's just been in a weird mood all day, to which Scott says he's not surprised. Turns out Scott's noticed that for as long as he can remember now, Bobby's ALWAYS in a shitty mood every time April 27th rolls around. Yes, Scott being Scott, after years of Bobby being weird around the same time every year, he eventually narrowed it down to its epicenter. This very day. Bobby is both weirded out and touched by Scott's attention to something so specific about Bobby...more attentive than even Bobby himself. When they hang up, he's still clueless about why today would be such a big deal to him, but apparently there's a pattern. That card might not have been so random after all.

Confused & uncomfortable now, Bobby decides to get out of the house & just do hero stuff. That always makes him feel better. He helps put out some fires, divert a tidal wave, gating back and forth across the planet, restless. The whole issue, even as he uses his usual banter to make the people he helps feel at ease in the wake of whatever catastrophe they were just saved from, his internal monologue shows he's second-guessing himself constantly, being his own worst enemy, criticizing every choice he makes about his saves, how he could've done things better, etc. Things come to a head when he intervenes at a protest - I don't have a specific cause in mind but ideally something non mutant related - as a group attacks the protesters until Bobby drops in to protect them.  

The protesters thank him but are pretty cynical about the whole thing. They note that this happens constantly and most of those same people will be back stirring up trouble and violence at another event like this down the line. They hope for change for the better but point out that some people never will, because they're not interested in better. They're happy with their hate. Bobby reflects on what they said, and here's where his thoughts start to take a particularly dark turn. He thinks of some of the ways his powers could be used to ensure those ppl never hurt anyone again, how the full potential of his powers include a lot of lethal options, and why shouldn't he use them when its true most of these ppl will just commit heinous acts in the future, and he might not be around to protect their victims next time. He even reflects on how he's used some of those darker options in the past, so its not like it'd be crossing a line he hasn't already....

Disturbed by the fact that the only reason he can think of not to go there is he's a hero and heroes don't do that, he just wants to be anywhere else in a hurry so he skips heading for a gate and does something he does only rarely....turns himself into mist and starts to disperse, to teleport somewhere far away, but as he does he gets the weirdest feeling, like his spread out consciousness is brushing up against someone else's. He's not alone he realizes. And he stops and recoalesces right there and talking to the empty air he demands that someone show themselves. A man appears out of nowhere, laughing.

Stranger: Your observational skills are a lot sharper than they used to be, Drake. Back in the day, you had no idea when I was around.

Bobby: Who are you and why are you talking like I'm supposed to know who you are? I've never seen you before in my life.

Stranger: Wow, it sucks to realize you left way less of an impression on someone than they left on you. I guess it makes sense though. I mean, when you KILLED me almost twenty years ago, this very day - that was obviously a big deal for me, but hey, I've been out of the loop awhile so what do I know? Maybe it was just another Tuesday for you.

Bobby: Are you the one who sent me that card earlier? Who the hell are you and what kind of game are you playing?

Stranger: Same one we were playing all those years ago, Bob. Before you got all pissy and flipped the board before I got a chance to make my next move. But thanks to the wonders of Krakoan resurrection, now we can pick up right where we left off. It really is a miracle, isn't it?

Bobby: Well maybe you should check with the Five and make sure they didn't bring you back with a few screws loose, because I'm pretty sure I'd remember this if it was actually me you were playing this game with.

Stranger: Maybe you just forgot. Or who knows? Maybe someone made you forget.

Bobby: Okay, yeah, I'm bored now. Time to put you on ice.

He starts icing the area around the stranger, intending to trap him in a block of ice, but the stranger just laughs and turns incorporeal, becoming a transparent outline hovering above the street....so to anyone who hadn't been watching their conversation - like the very protesters Bobby had saved earlier - it looked like Bobby was just furiously creating some kind of ice attack that didn't seem to be aimed at anyone...other than them. The now ghost-like stranger zips over to the crowd and starts weaving among them, seeming to whisper in a bunch of peoples' ears....and before long, the crowd that had just been saved from one attack and were primed not to just sit down and take another, were ready to choose fight over flight...and all of that fight now seemed focused directly on Bobby.

He constructs some ice barriers to just keep them at bay, not really worried they'll hurt him and more concerned about not hurting them, when the stranger's ghost form swirls around Bobby, hovering above his shoulder and now whispering in his ear. But there's no dialogue in the stranger's speech bubble....just caption boxes displaying Bobby's internal monologue....and now calling into question every single box earlier in the issue.

Caption box: Isn't it surreal how the right words whispered in the right ears can dramatically change a person's perception of something....or someone? How easy it is to change peoples' courses....even the course of their entire life?

Caption box: And fear, well, fear's one of the best motivators there is. So much easier to get someone to listen to you when they're afraid of something else.

Caption box: But maybe you can't really relate to that. A guy as powerful as you, you're probably not afraid of much these days.

Caption box: That wasn't always true though, was it? This take you back at all? Remind you of when you were just a kid, and there was a mob gunning for you just for the crime of being mutant and vulnerable? I bet you were scared then.

Caption box: Considering what a guy like you could do if he were scared enough, if the right person used the right words as the spark to ignite all that fear....the world's probably pretty lucky that Saint Xavier was there to be the voice you listened to back then, huh. Y'know, instead of someone like Magneto or Apocalypse being the ones to tell traumatized, impressionable little you what to do with all that fear and anger you felt....

Caption box: Do you ever think about that, Drake? Wonder if all that separates you from the worst of the worst is you had the right voice in your ear at the right time? That maybe there's nothing special about you at all, nothing innately noble, heroic.

Caption box: That you were just....lucky?

Caption box: Food for thought. Anyway, I gotta run for now, but I'll be seeing you, Bob.

Caption box: We have so much to catch up on.

Then its just Bobby left keeping the crowd at bay with his ice structures, him visibly shutting down, trying not to think too much and just running on instinct, until a hand reaches down from above and snatches him up into the air, until the streets are just a speck below them. Bobby looks up and to his shock its Laynia Petrovna aka Darkstar, his old friend and teammate from back when he was on the Champions as a teenager. The issue closes with her saying: "Hello, Bobby. I'd say its nice to see you and all the usual pleasantries, but we don't have much time. And we need to talk about our son."

ISSUE TWO   

This issue switches to Laynia's POV with her internal monologue in caption boxes, and picks up with them having teleported somewhere secluded via Laynia's powers (she's much more practiced using hers to teleport than Bobby is using his that way). This issue goes back and forth between past and present, as during Laynia's narration of past events they're shown as if they're happening in real time.

Bobby's pointing out that they were never together, and considering she was the one who turned him down, you'd think she'd be aware of that. Laynia responds that no, they were never a couple, but they did sleep together once and once only....she'd been feeling particularly down about her ex-boyfriend Yuri after running into him, it was a rebound thing for her and she never hid that but Bobby took it to mean more than it did anyway and acted a fool about it, aligning with their canon interactions at the very end of their Champions run, before getting on the same page and they went back to just being friends.

Except, Laynia says, then she found out she was pregnant, and he flew to Russia to join her and decide what to do together, while everyone else thought he was still at UCLA. He doesn't remember any of this, because blocks were put in their memories, hiding everything related to this. But it did happen, and they do have a son. She'll explain everything, but they need to keep moving around, as she doesn't want the man who just confronted Bobby to overhear any of this and its very hard to detect when he's around. Their best option is to keep on the move, teleporting frequently and not staying anywhere long enough for him to track where they are.

Bobby: Oh crap. HE'S not our son, is he?

Laynia: Hell no.

Bobby: Phew, I was worried we had a Stryfe situation for a second there. I am barely holding it together as is and I am NOT equipped to handle an evil Bobby Jr. from the future.

Laynia reaffirms that he is definitely not their son, but he is the reason for much of what happened back when they were eighteen. They only ever knew him by his moniker, 'Doubting Thomas' and honestly were never sure when exactly he started watching them and messing with their heads. That's his MO. His power lets him turn from flesh and blood into a form made solely of psychic energy...an astral ghost that's invisible, immaterial and can travel via the astral plane. But his only power to affect the material world in that form lies in telepathy. He can project thoughts into someone's mind and its almost impossible to keep him out or tell his intrusions from ordinary thoughts.

She's not sure how he'd fare against other telepaths, but at least with non-psychics, even the best psychic shielding or anti-telepath technology isn't a guarantee against him. Because he doesn't try to break into minds, or even sneak past mental defenses. He just surveils his targets, watching them invisibly, learning all he can about them, and then he looks for cracks in whatever mental shields they have. Tiny gaps here and there that he can just whisper into, slipping a thought in amongst the chaos and chatter generated by someone's own mind.

All of which means they never were sure where their own natural fears and paranoia ended, and his whispering began. They were eighteen, she reminds Bobby, already freaking out about this giant life change neither were sure they were ready for, even if they did keep the baby...and neither of them was an ordinary civilian. They were powerful mutants with lots of enemies....from day one, they were concerned that their child would be born with a target on their back just from that. And then there was the fact that one of the things they'd always bonded over was resentment for how early they felt their childhoods ended.

Laynia and her twin brother Nikolai were taken from their parents at birth, and raised separately with government agents for foster parents. They were always intended to be mutant operatives for their government, their lives scripted out for them, and their training began in their early teens. Laynia didn't even know she had a twin brother until she was in her twenties.

And Bobby had always quietly nursed resentment for being put out into the field at the same time as the rest of the 05, all years older than him and with a lot more focus from the Professor. Scott was his protege, a tactical genius, Jean was his preferred pupil in terms of power development, Hank was a bonafide genius, and Warren was a millionaire playboy, a natural spokesman and inevitable future celebrity. Bobby was just Bobby though, with no awareness of his full potential, and the only one the Professor didn't seem to have any real purpose for or interest in. Like he was tacked on as a spare, his presence more of an afterthought than intentional.

So especially in his late teens, after the 05 went their separate ways, Bobby had always been bothered by the fact that he'd gone through all the same traumas and hardships as the rest on their various missions, but always wondering what he was even doing there when it didn't even seem like there was any reason he was supposed to be. Privately he'd always wanted someone - his parents, the Professor, even the older 05 - to question whether there was really nobody else Xavier could have been sending out to fight Magneto, than a fifteen year old too afraid of being abandoned to say no on his own behalf. After all, the issue was complicated by the fact that when his parents weren't fully on board with Bobby going to the Institute, Xavier mindwiped them into thinking he was just at boarding school, and it was only when Bobby was eighteen that the Professor restored their full awareness of what Bobby had been doing for years.

All of which played into why Bobby and Laynia didn't tell anyone about the pregnancy, even their closest friends. It started out as them just putting it off, wanting to be more sure of their own thoughts on this before someone else tried to make the decision what to do for them, but by the time Laynia gave birth, they'd fully isolated themselves, paranoid that Xavier or the Red Room would take the baby and just make them forget all about it. And problem is, as Laynia put it, they couldn't tell how much of that was Doubting Thomas whispering all the right things to ramp up their anxieties and specific fears.

And obviously someone did mess with their memories anyway, Bobby points out crankily. This all is partly meant to seed two ongoing character arcs for Bobby in the future....the first, his awareness of how often his mind and memories have been messed with over the years, by enemies and allies alike, to the point he's honestly not sure how much of 'him' is really even him, and how much he's just the end result of people just editing his mind whenever he started heading in a direction they didn't want him to. With how long the memories of their time travel trip were hidden, now these missing memories, what other holes could exist in his memories without him ever having a clue?

And the second character arc is his misgivings about Xavier and the role he played in Bobby's childhood. Knowing what he knows now of his omega potential, aware that all the biggest developments and learning curves with his powers happened when Bobby WASN'T Xavier's student, Bobby's increasingly convinced that Xavier never trusted Bobby with his own power, and while he might not have actively stunted his growth, he certainly didn't help or encourage it the way he did his other students. The foundation is there for Bobby to wonder if the only reason Xavier ever even recruited him was to keep him from falling into anyone else's hands and becoming a threat.

As Laynia reminds him of what they were like back then and how they viewed things, things fall into place for Bobby and its very easy for him to see how they could have ended up hiding this from anyone in Xavier's orbit, etc...and this starts to become less abstract for him. It wasn't that he thought she was lying at any point, but its hitting him now....he has a son, and someone made him forget. He's someone who has always yearned for family that won't judge or condemn him, leave him, always been determined to be everything his own father wasn't and nothing like him, and yet he has a son who's grown up without him. Whose name he doesn't even know.

He does know his son though, it turns out. At least somewhat. Its one of Bobby's former students before M-Day. Dallas Gibson aka Specter. He has no idea who he really is, Laynia says, but the parents who died when Dallas was ten were his adoptive parents. But he was born Dallas Drake, as Petrovna wasn't even Laynia's real last name and she had no idea what it originally was. Heir to the merged powersets of both his biological parents, with his father's elemental form but made from his mother's signature Darkforce energies.

As for why Laynia remembers when Bobby doesn't....she didn't originally. But then years ago (during the Morrison run), she was possessed by one of Weapon X's most dangerous creations, the Huntsman. However, thanks to how her powers were designed to let her mind travel through the Darkforce Dimension to do things like teleport, when she was possessed, her mind tried to flee into that dimension. When Fantomex killed her, he only killed her body, and her mental tether to it. The shock and trauma of her physical death broke down the barriers around her memories, and they all came flooding back. Problem was, she only existed as a consciousness drifting aimlessly in the Darkforce Dimension.

But then Dallas started learning more about his powers and growing them during his time at the Academy. And his powerset also includes the ability to make shadow golems similar to the ice golems his father makes. But he didn't realize this as the first time he made one, with Darkforce energy being the clay his golem was sculpted from...Laynia was able to use that as a doorway into the physical world. She inhabited his shadow golem as her vessel, the way a future Iceman's golem once split off from him and became a separate entity. So Dallas never realized his newfound shadow friend started out as something he made unconsciously...he just knew that it seemed to have its own sentience from the jump, was a friend and protector who'd show up whenever he needed them. That friend and protector just happened to be his biological mother, watching over him the only way she could.

Until M-Day. When Dallas was depowered, Laynia lost her connection to the physical world and was stuck again in the Darkforce Dimension....until her brother Nikolai made a bargain with Immortus that led to her full resurrection. Finally she was back, and she remembered everything. But also knew Bobby remembered none of this. And so for the next couple years she just checked in on Dallas periodically but kept her distance, because she not only remembered her son...she also remembered why they were so desperate to hide his connection to them that they covered up their own memories of him ever existing.

At the end of the issue, they arrive at the hideout of the Russian mutant underground, a community of mutants who mistrust Krakoa and its leaders, but aren't on board with Mikhail Rasputin and his faction either. Laynia brought Bobby to the person who originally hid their memories and locked them away - at their own request....Bobby's idea, in fact - Alexi Garnoff aka Blind Faith, a telepath Bobby first met in his X-Factor days. But who was so quick to trust Bobby, because turns out that wasn't actually the first time Alexi remembered meeting him.

As Bobby reels from the reveal that this particular manipulation of his mind had been something he himself asked for, Alexi says he can erase all his work and return his own memories of all this, and Laynia warns him that remembering it all will hurt. Because they have a son, yes, Dallas Gibson aka Dallas Drake aka Specter. But twins run in her family.

And for a brief - too brief - window of time, they had not one son, but two.

ISSUE THREE

This issue returns to Bobby's POV and internal monologue, and takes place almost entirely in the past, or in Bobby's mindscape. He tells Alexi to do his thing, he wants to know, NEEDS to know everything. The walls come down and in his mind, Bobby finds himself standing at the start of a giant labyrinth made of ice. He sees a little boy running through it and gives chase, needing to catch up to him, desperate even as he's aware he's running on autopilot, more instinct than knowledge. He's never seen this boy before - he's not even a real memory himself. But he knows what an older Dallas looks like, at least. And he's sure this is what his mind imagines a Dmitri older than what he actually remembers might look like, and he desperately wants a closer look. But this Dima stays forever just out of range because his mind doesn't actually have a clear image of an older Dmitri to conjure, and up close, the illusion would be too obvious, and the loss all the more real for that.

Following the boy through the labyrinth, he sees memories unveil themselves on the ice walls around them. He remembers Laynia telling him she was pregnant, their agitated debates over the months that followed as they agonized over what to do, how to keep the baby safe - babies, once they found out it was twins. He sees the day the twins were born, relives them deciding to name the elder twin Dallas, after the city where they first met, before Laynia even joined the Champions, and the younger they named Dmitri, or Dima for short....after the only teacher Laynia ever felt actually valued her for herself instead of seeing her as a weapon being honed.

He remembers them leaving the hospital and hiding for a few weeks at a secluded cabin their old teammate the Black Widow found for them....she was the only one they told, figuring nobody could keep a secret better than her, and how they wavered and grew closer to caving and letting their closest friends and teammates help them figure out how to keep the twins safe. Sees flashbacks of him playing with the boys while Laynia watches fondly, and vice versa. Relives as he - still little older than a child himself - puts them in their crib and tells them not to be scared, talks about how his grandfather used to have a saying: "all Drakes are dragons," and making a dragon sculpture that catches the light to act as their nightlight.

And then he relives the day they woke up to find the crib empty and the twins missing. The first time they met Doubting Thomas, who left them an easy trail to follow because he wanted them to find him, wanted a confrontation. Bobby and Laynia had descended on the facility they tracked him to with the full fury of midnight and winter at their most destructive, and once inside they separated as they found the twins had been split up and taken in different directions. Laynia went after Dallas, who she could feel faintly, an early sign of his link to the Darkforce Dimension that she shares - second generation mutants always tend to manifest early - and Bobby went after Dmitri.

Doubting Thomas was waiting though, and the villain backstory reveal unfolded. The Professor, the Hellfire Club, etc....they weren't the only people who went around looking for young mutants to mold, seeing their potential. He grew up under the thumb of a woman even he only knows as Mother Nurture, a sadist with unguessable motivations even to her lackeys that she raised from childhood....to be their worst selves. Apparently she claims to be a precog, who knew what mutant children would grow up to be great heroes or positive influences on the world....which appears to be contrary to her agenda, whatever that is....as she targets kids who COULD grow up to be great forces for change, change for the better, and picks the ones with the brightest potential to stamp out and corrupt, turn to darkness. Her obsession with proving that there are no real heroes, that anyone can be twisted into the villain was apparently a recurring theme of Doubting Thomas' childhood, so when she assigned him the task of abducting the Drake twins when they were still months away from even being born, Thomas fixated on Bobby and Laynia during his surveillance of them, and developed an obsession of his own.

It was the first time he'd ever targeted superhero parents, let alone ones close enough in age to him that he could project onto them, see them as an inverted reflection of his own life. And even as he prepared to take the Drake twins at the earliest opportunity, that was just his assignment. His obsession with Bobby and Laynia was wholly personal, as he clearly became consumed with a need to prove to himself that they weren't better than him, that he could have BEEN them in another life, with better influences....that they would have been no different than he if they'd been in his shoes.

In fact, he was convinced there was such a slim margin of difference between them that he could topple Iceman from his heroic perch with just the slightest push. Bobby refutes this, saying he's nothing like him, but that's when Thomas says he lied. Mother Nurture actually only sent him after one Drake boy. She wasn't expecting two. Apparently, one of them was never destined to live all that long to begin with.

The issue never actually shows Dmitri, just Bobby breaking down, cradling the swaddled figure to his chest. He's dead-eyed when he looks up, frozen tear tracks on his cheeks as one icy drop falls to the ground and shatters.

Bobby: Guess you were right about me. Congrats. You win.

And then over the next two panels, Thomas flash-freezes before he can react, his entire body frozen on a cellular level...and then he shatters.

We only see glimpses of Laynia's horrified reaction when she arrives with Dallas in her arms, as Bobby hurries past those memories, he has them back but he doesn't want to relive those moments at all...and there are more snapshots of barely glimpsed memories of Bobby and Laynia reducing the entire facility to nothing but an empty crater. Bobby arrives at the memory of Laynia and Bobby, fueled by trauma and desperation, panicking about this Mother Nurture sending someone else after Dallas, their original fears reignite, the list of people who might want a baby like Dallas for their own agendas seems endless....culminating in them giving Dallas to Black Widow to place with a family she trusts to raise him safely. But Bobby notes despondently that even with all that, it'd take someone like Xavier or with similar resources all of five minutes to find a powerful mutant that young, if they ever got so much as a hint about him from Bobby or Laynia's minds.

Which is when Bobby decides: "In a world of telepaths, Cerebros and Wolverines, the only foolproof way to keep a secret...is to not even know it yourself.

They both agree, and seek out a telepath unaffiliated with any team or organization: Alexi Garnoff. Which brings us back to the present.

April 27th. The anniversary of the day one son died, and they made the decision to give up the other for his own safety.

ISSUE FOUR

With both of their memories fully restored, they're on the same page about what happens now: They have to find a way to keep the resurrected Doubting Thomas from figuring out who and where Dallas is. If he truly wants revenge, or if he still just feels compelled to fulfill his original assignment, Dallas is his real target. But they're fairly certain the extreme lengths they went to all those years ago at least did their job. Even with Bobby unaware of Thomas' existence, let alone vendetta against him, the latter was able to stalk him ever since his resurrection without finding even a hint of Dallas' location or identity...he would have had better luck stalking Laynia probably, but they assumed his fixation on Bobby for killing him, along with Laynia steering clear of Krakoa (ironically because she was worried about the many telepaths there picking up on her secret), Thomas concentrated his efforts on following Bobby and might not have even realized that unlike him, Laynia DID already know who and where Dallas was.

Thomas must have come out into the open in the way he did specifically to push Bobby to regain his memories, figuring then it would only be a matter of time before Bobby slipped up enough for Thomas to zero in on his target....so now they had to figure out how to keep that from happening, while now having a whole new host of reasons not to want to advertise they had a son. The last thing they want is to keep him out of Thomas' clutches just to put him on Sinister's radar, especially now that they know Bobby's an omega and how 'highly prized' they are as resources....which would no doubt make his offspring of interest to various villains.

Not to mention, Laynia's got her own misgivings about Krakoa. She's FURIOUS about the Crucible - Dallas was among the earliest to sign up and go through it, desperate to get his powers back and return to his place among his former classmates. Not only does she consider it needless trauma of the very sort they sacrificed so much to protect their son from, Laynia is territorial. Dallas' name and powers were pretty much the only thing he got from his biological parents, that they were able to give him as his birthright, the upside to all the downs that came with being their kid, and Laynia's pissed as hell that Bobby's new government had the gall to demand their son EARN BACK what was always his and that losing had ALREADY been a trauma all its own.

This in turn sows the seeds for Bobby's development into a more proactive role in mutant society, as well as future conflict with a lot of the personalities that put the Crucible in place initially, as he's forced to confront why he didn't have more problems with it in the first place, or at least not enough that he wasn't able to justify its existence. Has he gotten so used to assuming others know better than him, that he no longer bothers trying to weigh the morality of things himself? Is he comfortable with what it says about him that it took having a personal stake - his son having gone through it - to make him sit up and think hey, that was fucked up?

Meanwhile, Thomas has not been idle, and is using reports of Bobby seemingly attacking innocent protesters the other day to stir up doubts in him among any influential mutants or X-Men he can whisper suspicions to, without them being aware of his presence/influence. Bobby is 'strongly encouraged' by Xavier to return to Krakoa to clear up the confusion, and when he refuses, that just adds more fuel for Thomas to work with. Plus he uses all the paranoia Beast has drummed up over the past couple years to cast suspicion on Bobby suddenly being inseparable from Laynia, a known Russian operative who has no allegiances to Krakoa, while also stirring mutants in Mikhail's camp to view Laynia's choice of companions as suspicious, which threatens her work with the Russian mutant underground and her efforts to keep them safe and hidden as well.

Finally they decide the best way to deal with Thomas is to lure him in and get Alexi to do to him what he did to Bobby and Laynia years ago. Hide away all Thomas' memories of things related to them and give him a tailored memory of how he died and why.

ISSUE FIVE

Most of this issue is just Thomas, Laynia and Bobby all playing cat and mouse with each other...Thomas having his own schemes even as the other two try to implement theirs, until its hard to tell who is the hunter and who is the hunted. Bobby and Laynia are still teleporting as often as they can, both to keep him from sneaking up on them and poisoning their thoughts or manipulating their plans, as well as to evade various friends and teammates who are now seeking them out, concerned by their behavior and increasingly susceptible to distrusting them as they refuse to give any hints as to what the hell they're doing.

It should be very clear that Bobby and Laynia are NOT acting wholly rationally here, and they're both aware of it. Doubting Thomas is GOOD at what he does, and he's familiar enough with them and their sore spots, from intel he gained long ago still being relevant here and now, particularly with how recently their memories were refocused on those days....that they're sure even the tiniest or briefest amounts of access to them is enough for him to skew their own paranoia in extreme ways. Not to mention.....they're much older now than they were when they made the choice to hide Dallas in the way they did, and they made that decision at the absolute height of their grief, fear and anxiety. They're second-guessing every choice they made back then, as well as the ones they're making now, and they're NOT sure that staying away, doing this on their own, not confiding in anyone or pulling them in....they're not doing all that because they're convinced its the right move.

They're staying the course because they don't have any idea what the right move is, and until they do, doubling down on their previous choices is because there's no take-backs, no undoing things once the secret is out. They can't afford to decide that was the wrong move after they've done it, when that will do them no good.

So they stick to their plan and try to get Thomas in Alexi's range, but with his guard down enough for the other telepath to act. The POV shifts back and forth between Bobby and Laynia's, with a lot of their internal doubts about everything they've done, the thoughts Thomas raised in Bobby back in Issue #1, the ideological battle Thomas imagines exists between him and the heroes he resents so much - this back-and-forth spans most of the issue and keeps these themes front and center, until ultimately Bobby and Thomas face off again.

Bobby surprises Thomas by using his powers in an unexpected way....he makes dozens of golems spread out all over the place and then shuffles his actual consciousness through them one at a time, 'possessing' one golem as his vessel, his ice form before leaping into another one. Thomas can't get a bead on him, keeps chasing his own tail trying to keep up with Bobby's constant shell game in an attempt to find the 'real one,' where Bobby's actually vulnerable.

Finally, Bobby makes it clear he's not going to be playing this game with Thomas anymore, because thing is, the point Thomas is so obsessed with proving, wanting Bobby to know he's no better than him, is capable of terrible things....Bobby flat out just doesn't care.

Bobby: I remember everything now, Thomas. That's what you wanted, right? For me to relive all that, make sure I can't hide from it? That I have to feel every bit of pain I shut away back then because I couldn't deal? Because the truth is, as much as that was to protect my son it was also to protect me from everything I WANTED to forget? I remember. I remember my kids, losing them....I remember killing you. But I also remembered something else, that you probably didn't factor in.

Thomas: And what's that?

Bobby: I remembered that I'm not sorry.

He goes on the attack, just destruction every which way you look so that Thomas is forced to stay on the defensive, keeping himself immaterial and jaunting around because there's no safe space for him to land, so to speak.

Bobby: The Five can bring you back a thousand times and I'll kill you a thousand and one, if that's what it takes to keep my son safe from you. Here's what you never got. The whole hero vs villain, right or wrong, good or evil thing you're so obsessed with? I just don't care, man. That's never been why I do any of this. I know I'm flawed, too flawed to ever be 'truly good' but by the same token, I know there's enough good in me I'm not truly bad either. I've done terrible things before and I'll do them again, because at the end of the day, I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just trying to save people where I can.

Bobby: Its about priorities, see. Its people that matter to me, if I'm helping or hurting. And I'll hurt someone to help someone I think deserves it more and maybe that's wrong but thing is I'm not making that choice based on if its right or wrong. I'm making it based on who I think needs help and what do I have to do to help them. Let someone else figure out the scorecard, I'm just trying to make sure the person I'm protecting makes it home safe.

Bobby: And you? You don't matter. My son matters to me. That's all that matters here. I choose him, no matter what, every time, and whatever that means, whatever I have to do to choose him, or because I choose him? I'll deal with it. If I make the wrong choices, if they backfire and get him hurt or they're not what he would want - that's the stuff that can keep me up at night. But if choosing him means killing an asshole like you to keep him safe?

Bobby: Don't worry about my virtue. I'll cope.

With that, Thomas makes his retreat, tail between his legs. They weren't able to implement their plan to have Alexi erase his memories, but they don't consider this to be over. He'll be back, they'll have more opportunities to make that happen. At least this time he was the one doing the running.

But as the finale of the issue, Thomas adapts and changes the game. He waits until Bobby's back on Krakoa, meeting with Xavier and other X-Men about recent events and trying to say as little as possible...and then Thomas picks that place and time to make his first public appearance on Krakoa since he was resurrected as just another name on the resurrection queue. Nobody knew who he was then or cared that he didn't seem interested in staying on the island, claiming amnesty and official Krakoan citizenship....but he does that now in the most dramatic way possible....as he turns to Bobby and blatantly advertises they have history.

Thomas: And in the spirit of new beginnings, I just want to say I forgive you for killing me eighteen years ago. Fresh starts for everyone, right?

And with that bombshell - and the fact that one look at Bobby tells everyone present that he's not denying it - he saunters off, leaving Bobby with more questions to answer but no closer to being able to fully disclose what he's keeping hidden....which Thomas can still reveal to anyone at any time. What he did reveal was enough to ensure there was no chance now of changing his memories of their shared past....not after he dragged them both into the spotlight and made sure they were linked so if anything did happen to Thomas or seem awry with him....there'd be no doubt who was Suspect Number One. And that was always going to come with the question of why.

The mini ends with a final page where Bobby's finally done talking w/the QC for now, and he's just standing on the beach far enough away from where a bunch of the Academy X kids are having a bonfire - with Dallas right in the thick of them - that it wouldn't be obvious that his sole reason for being out there was to catch a glimpse of him, even if only from a distance. Elsewhere, Laynia is browsing through a shop and notices a stuffed dragon similar to one flashbacks showed Dmitri cuddling with as a baby. She picks it up, hesitating as if debating whether to purchase it, with the final panel being of her back as she walks out of the shop, the stuffed animal still sitting where she'd found it.

ICEMAN: A HOUSE OF DRAGONS

The second mini of three, this one introduces Dallas as a POV character, still oblivious of everything readers learned in the first mini. It explores his feelings about being depowered on M-Day and his survivor's guilt from having left the Institute and been relatively safe compared to those who stayed, when other depowered mutants like David still stayed and fought for mutants. His best friends, Julian and Brian Cruz, insist that nobody thinks less of him for it and he was a minor, it wasn't like anybody was really consulting him on whether he wanted to stay or go at the time, but he can't shake the feeling he should have done more. Its what drove him to go through the Crucible so early on, and its what drives his determination to make it onto the X-Men team.

Seeds are also planted for later, via some brief scenes that reveal that while depowered and living away from the Institute, Dallas started exploring magic as an alternative to his powers, since there are various arts that access the same Darkforce Dimension his powers connected him to. He's no longer pursuing it as feverishly as he did while depowered, but it remains an interest as he's determined to never be powerless again, whether he has his mutant abilities or not.

He also has several chance encounters with Iceman, who he really only knows as his old math teacher, and no idea they're not so chance encounters at all.

Meanwhile, Bobby and Laynia are meeting more regularly off the island as they argue about whether or not they should tell Dallas the truth - he has a right to know and he's old enough to make his own choices about what he wants or doesn't want done in the name of keeping him safe. Their various rationales are undercut by the underlying awareness that both of them are afraid of his reaction and worried he won't understand why they did it and might even hate them for the choices they made.

At the same time, they're trying to figure out how to even go about resurrecting Dmitri. They know from Joanna Beaubier-Jinadu's example that despite his young age, Dima could still theoretically be resurrected....they just have no idea how to ask the Five or X-Factor to look for him in the Waiting Room without disclosing everything about Dallas at the same time...which brings them back to how do we tell Dallas.

Ultimately, they wait too long and Thomas takes the choice out of their hands. While Dallas is in the Mojoverse along with various other Academy X kids who have been regular presences there while taking advantage of the treaty between Krakoa and Mojo to try and get some Krakoan media entertainment off the ground,

It turns out that while Bobby was worried about Doubting Thomas approaching Sinister, Shaw or one of the other notorious mutants on Krakoa as part of his schemes, he went a different direction entirely. He approached Mojo with his proposal for a must-see show that would have all of Krakoa glued to the nearest TV screen.

And so what was supposed to be just a random trip to the Mojoverse leads to Dallas being trapped as the very confused and unwilling star of what Mojo describes as the ultimate reality show: DALLAS GIBSON, THIS IS YOUR LIFE.

The show proceeds to take viewers - and Dallas - through a recreation of his entire life, including all the parts he didn’t know about. Starting before his birth even, with Krakoans flocking to their TVs just as Thomas promised, as soon the bombshell claim of who his biological parents are drops and word spreads throughout the island. Even X-Men close to Bobby have no idea what to make of this at first and they start trying to figure out how to shut it down and figure things out from there, but it’s a futile effort, honestly.

Even if they could get Mojo to shut it down right away, the damage was already done - and its clear that nobody is more interested in seeing what comes next than Dallas himself. Seemingly having forgotten that everyone is watching this, he’s half in denial, half captivated by what he’s watching. It seems impossible but that doesn’t stop him from having a lot of confused and conflicting feelings as he watches literal surveillance footage Thomas had installed to spy on the much younger Bobby and Laynia as they interacted with their newborn sons.

Much of this is used to flesh out flashback scenes from the first mini, where Bobby and Laynia’s POVs of these early days were shown, stringing together a timeline without reproducing the same scenes exactly. In contrast, some of these scenes do directly recreate scenes seen previously in Bobby and Laynia’s memories….but now reproduced for Dallas’ viewing by objective technology devoid of the emotions layered around his parents’ actual memories of that time.

The video retelling includes footage from security cameras at the facility Thomas had retreated to for their final fateful confrontation years ago, similarly providing a stark and explicit view of Bobby and Laynia’s rampage through the facility and Bobby’s unapologetic killing of Thomas. It’s a side of Bobby few had ever seen before and raises more than a few eyebrows while answering the questions many of them had had ever since Thomas made his dramatic entrance to Krakoan society at the end of the first mini.

Bobby meanwhile started racing for Mojoworld the second Rogue called him and told him to get there fast and laid out what was going on. But it still took long enough for him to navigate Mojoworld’s confusing layout that he only smashed his way onto the ‘set’ Dallas was trapped on in time to see his eighteen year old self hand an infant Dallas over to the Black Widow onscreen.

One look at Bobby, not hiding behind his ice form and with pain and remorse writ large all over his face, told Dallas (and everyone else) everything they needed to know about how true or not all this was.

But before Bobby can even attempt to figure out what to say, Mojo calls everyone’s attention back to the screens, as he announces there’s a plot twist featuring never-before-seen-footage from that first tragic April 27th.

The screen jumps to more security camera footage from Thomas’ facility….but the time stamp puts this at just before Bobby & Laynia’s arrival. Bobby (and Laynia who has arrived on Krakoa for the first time, as soon as she learned what was happening) watch in shock as Thomas hands Dmitri off to a lackey and instructs him to get offsite before the two arrive. Onscreen, Thomas says if he’s there’s one thing he’s figured out about Bobby & Laynia, its that they’ll never stop searching for one of their babies so long as they’re still alive….so if they’re convinced this one is dead and the other one is taken to Mother Nurture as she instructed him, they’ll focus all their efforts on trying to reclaim that one. Let her deal with that Thomas sniffs derisively. I have different plans for this one.

Of course, those plans never came to fruition, Mojo narrates. He underestimated just how….fatally Bobby would react to the simulacrum he believed to be his now dead son. He was never able to follow up with the lackey who took the real Dmitri, and his hired hand - who had not signed up for any of this and was freaking out once he saw what was left of the facility he’d last seen his boss in - well, he basically said fuck this and anonymously dropped Dmitri off at the nearest hospital.

Given the lengths Bobby & Laynia had gone to make sure their kids’ information WASN’T readily available anywhere when they were born, there was no indication of Dmitri’s real identity or where he came from, so he went into the system where he grew up in a series of homes that left him not especially traumatized, but at least distrustful of authority. Then Thomas revealed that when he’d first been resurrected, he’d tracked down Dmitri by finding his lackey and figuring out where he’d left the baby, retracing Dmitri’s path from there. Unlike Dallas, Thomas had always known exactly where to find Dmitri….but felt that particular reveal really needed the RIGHT moment.

And that moment apparently was now. Taking over narrator duties from Mojo, Thomas now speaks into the cameras, directly addressing Bobby and Laynia as he tells them Dmitri too manifested powers early and has had years to learn to make the most of his powerset. He apparently can access a mirror dimension that lets him teleport via reflective surfaces, use them as scrying portals by which he can see anything within visual range of that surface….and there’s one particularly interesting twist to his power. When Dmitri’s in the mirror dimension and watching events play out in the real world via a mirror or other surface….those events don’t just have to be in the present.

Time is wonky in the mirror dimension, as is often true of extradimensional spaces. Dmitri has limited precognitive abilities as he can use the mirror dimension to peer out of mirrors and watch what’ll happen in view of them at some point in various possible future timelines.

Apparently its tricky and unreliable, but its at least effective enough that Dmitri counts as a precog by anyone’s standard. And in the early days of Krakoa, when deciding whether to go there himself, he apparently glimpsed enough clandestine conversations to know that at that point, at least…..Krakoa was not a safe place to be a precog.

Onscreen, Thomas claps his hands energetically and addresses the entire audience now:

Thomas: So, to recap, somewhere out there is the teleporting precog son of an omega level mutant who’s already proven he’s willing to cross just about any line for this son’s sake. Said son is also primed to be extremely distrustful of Krakoa….and anyone who might be seen as an emissary of it. Like, oh say, X-Men. And to top it all off….he has absolutely no idea where he comes from nor does he have any reason to believe anyone who comes out of nowhere claiming to be his longlost parents or friends of theirs.

Thomas: Now I don’t know about all of you, but I think whomever were to find him first, and gain his trust, well - they could probably figure out any number of ways those combined factors could be useful.  

The screen flashes to a generic street camera view of a Dmitri Drake that looks a lot like his brother, just with brown hair instead of blond. There’s little to distinguish either his surroundings or Dmitri himself, but its clearly being presented as a starting point for potential searchers.

The final pages show an array of panels showing notorious mutant villains all leaning forward and studying the screen with interest. Sinister, Shaw, Selene (if she’s back yet), Abigail Brand, MLF members, Stryfe, Mystique and Destiny, the Fenris twins, etc.

The second mini concludes with Doubting Thomas winking into the camera, essentially staring straight at the reader.

Thomas: May the best influence win!

DARKSTAR: SONS OF SNOW AND SHADOW

Subtitled: “Run, Dima, Run!”

The third and final mini of the triptych is a chaotic free for all as basically everyone is hunting for Dmitri Drake, who has absolutely no idea why people are suddenly coming out of the woodwork looking for him but quickly decides he doesn’t want to be found.

Dallas is aggressively putting off dealing with how he feels about any of this and flat out shuts down any attempts Bobby or Laynia make to approach him. He’s totally fixated on being the one to find basically the only person in the universe who could understand how he’s feeling right now, and they can figure it out together then. He’s blatantly underestimating how much his longlost twin actually might NOT be able to relate to his specific perspective here, and vice versa. Something his friends and Academy X classmates try to caution him about while helping him on his search.

Surge: Oh shut up, dumbass. I don’t have to like you for you to be one of us, and any twin of yours is basically a two-for-one deal, so of course we’re going to do whatever it takes to keep your longlost brother from being exploited and used by adults who suck. I would include your parents in that but I actually think them hiding you from that musty bald bitch Xavier was probably the smartest thing any X-parent has done for their kid so I’m fighting down the impulse to be impressed.

Dallas: …thank you? I think?

Thus the Academy X kids actually take one of the most prominent roles in the mini as Dallas and his classmates’ search is heavily prioritized. There’s a strong focus on various kids who have history being exploited by older mutants and are now projecting heavily. Brian and Julian are of course Dallas’ closest confidantes through this, maybe Brian a little more than Julian as the latter flip-flops back and forth between calling Dallas a legacy and a nepo baby at different intervals. He can’t seem to decide if he thinks it’s something to be envied or not. Anole is unrepentant about ranking Dallas’ dad’s most infamous costumes and how hot or not he looked in each of them. He and Dallas never got along in school. Icarus absently notes that he’s pretty sure his brother and Dallas’ dad had a thing going on at one point.

They’re not quite all as helpful as they could be, is the takeaway. But they do feel the stakes and if any generation of mutants is prone to embracing gallows humor to cope, it’s the Academy X kids.

Elsewhere Bobby is conducting his own search with the help of numerous X-Men and friends, who are all trying to process everything they just learned and saw. Most of them are supportive and understanding, though a few are more abrasive about the sheer amount of stuff they didn’t know about him or even suspect.

Xavier tries to lecture Bobby about how they wouldn’t be in this situation if he had trusted them with this at any point in the past. Bobby shuts that down with gusto, emphasizing that Xavier was one of the people they were most concerned about hiding the twins from - and a good thing too, he points out, given what could have happened to Dallas if Onslaught had known about him when Dallas was still just a kid.

But then he gets downright chilly and makes it clear how and why his dynamic with many of them will be at least somewhat different from this point on…..Xavier especially.

He brings attention back to the not so minor detail of Xavier, Moira and Magneto apparently originally declaring Krakoa to be for all mutants….except for precogs.

Bobby: You keep saying this place is the culmination of everything we’ve fought for from the first day we put on an X-Men uniform, so I just wanna know, Professor. Why the HELL did I spend my whole life fighting for you to create your own personal vision of paradise….which apparently was meant to exclude one of my children, just because of what freaking power he was born with?

Xavier: Compromises had to be made in order to -

Bobby: Y’know, you’ve been using that line since I was fifteen and its tired, X. Every time we asked why you couldn’t just use your powers in ways you insisted would ethically compromise you - except for whenever you decided it was okay because it made things more convenient for you specifically.

Bobby: From day one you’ve kept your secrets from us, for a lot shadier reasons than I’ve ever had for keeping one, so you don’t need to be telling me I’m not entitled to my secrets. You have all these contingencies for if any of us go bad, while telling us nobody’s beyond redemption except for those times you decide Magneto is, or the Shadow King is.

Bobby: You know what the real problem with your dream has always been, Professor? It asks for a leap of faith that you’ve never been prepared to make yourself. You’re always asking us to line up and put it all on the line for the chance at a better world, no matter how realistic it is….but you’ve never actually put down your own cynicism or pragmatism or whatever you want to call it….and just….dreamed. How does that even work, huh?

Bobby: Just….what the hell would you have even done, Professor, if I had raised my kids at the mansion all this time? What spin would you have given me when you finally embarked on this grand Krakoan experiment you’ve been planning for years….and needed to tell me one of my sons wasn’t allowed to come with? That if he died, you had no intention of resurrecting him and his politically inconvenient power?

Xavier: *keeps silent*

Bobby: Yeah, y’know what, on second thought I don’t think I actually want to know the answer to that. Stay away from me and my kids, X. You and I are done.

Finally, last but not least, Laynia will be running her own search for Dima with the help of her brother, the Black Widow, and Warren, who wanted to make sure she knew that he’s her friend too, not just Bobby’s. Despite the lack of detail here, she’d actually have the most prominent role in this mini - being associated publicly with Krakoa is actually an obstacle for Bobby gaining Dmitri’s trust. Laynia’s lack of affiliation with it or Russia’s government or any other organization, is what lets her convince Dmitri to give her a chance and hear her out when she does find him.

(Something she’s ultimately able to do by going to Arakko and asking Storm if she can get her an audience with Lactuca, who should know exactly where to find him. In exchange, Lactuca will ask a favor of Laynia at some point in the future, which plants some seeds to bring Laynia more into X-books without just being an extension of Bobby).

There will be a final reckoning between Laynia and Thomas this time, and the mini will end with things still messy as hell, as the newfound family of four (plus Uncle Nikolai, standing awkwardly off to the side) basically stand there staring at each other and wondering what next. But even with them all as relative strangers now, there’s a wealth of possibilities now that everything’s out in the open.

This mysterious Mother Nurture still lingers offscreen as a potential future threat, especially as they still don’t know what they intended with Dallas - if he was even the twin she was after in the first place. Iceman’s poised to be launched in any number of directions as he’s now essentially reinventing himself while everyone is paying more attention to him than ever before, all while he’s trying to fall back on comfortable, familiar habits of joking and pranks to try and bond with the sons who are grown up and don’t really know what - if any - dynamic they even need or want with him. Laynia’s reluctantly taken Krakoan citizenship to be closer to her sons, but finds she prefers staying on Arakko and grows closer to mutants she meets there, with Dima joining her more often than not, as he’ll never be fully comfortable with Krakoa even if precogs are ‘allowed’ now. Dallas is more determined than ever to be an X-Man but he’s worried that now he’ll never make it on his own merits and it’ll always be more about him being a legacy, a founding X-Man’s kid.

Etc, etc.

[liloinkoink]

i said i’d post a finished lamplight scene if Ren won this round and he did so here you go

takes place basically immediately after Torchlight, as this is from a piece will be taking place between Torchlight and Strange Traveler

Martyn doesn’t know the god’s name, is the thing.

It’s not the biggest thing, not really, but it’s what sticks him most as the haze of his capture and escape begins to clear.

Passing out in the middle of the forest allows Martyn to get a good rest for the first time in weeks. He sleeps away the night and through the next day, only opening his eyes when late afternoon sunlight finally manages to angle its way into his eyes. When he finally does return to consciousness, it’s with the most peace of mind he’s had since they found out Grian was gone.

Free and rested and soaked in the safety of the quiet forest‘a dappled sunlight, Martyn’s mind moves slowly. He can’t place where he is, but he’s slept too well to find that immediately alarming. He’s lying in the grass, he’s warm—did he take a nap? What was he doing before…?

This is about the moment the gravity of Martyn’s new situation finally crashes down on him.

Martyn’s eyes snap open.

The city, the escape, the god—all of it hits Martyn at once. He’s escaped, thank the gods—the god?—but is he actually free?

A paladin’s oath is no joke. Martyn doesn’t know exactly what it all entails—he did warn the god he wouldn’t be any good at this—but for one, he’s fairly certain these things are meant to be lifelong. That’s all well and good when Martyn feels death just a few paces down the street, but now that it’s not so immediate…

Well. Martyn’s feeling a bit like he’s gotten married, and he hadn’t been sober when he’d met the bride.

When Martyn turns to the campfire he’d built the night before, the fire is still burning. All the kindling he’s collected is gone, but the fire doesn’t seem to be in danger of going out. Then again, this same fire burned for… how long without needing to be tended to? A decade, Martyn’d guesstimated, and the god is perfectly fine.

Gods are supposed to be unkillable, or so they say. Guess Grian had been right: Gods don’t die, after all. Even strange ones.

“Okay,” Martyn says, “Are you… still there?”

The fire fluffs up, a fwoomp of hot air hitting Martyn in the face.

“Cool. I guess I should have expected that,” Martyn says, mostly to himself. He crosses his legs, leaning his elbows on his knees, and stares into the fire.

Martyn is not and has never been a religious man. The sort of rigidity that came with an organized faith was never for him, and that’s not even considering the god. There were far too many dieties corrupted, in some form or another, by their own power. Gods who didn’t deign their followers worth listening to, gods who manipulated the lives of those who followed them, gods whose followers lived thankless lives and died meaningless deaths.

Martyn has no idea what the god he’s sworn his life to is like, nor does he know what the god would ask of Martyn. He doesn’t know if this god is strict, if the god is cruel. He seemed kind, from BigB’s brief story, but what effect does twenty years of solitude have on the mind? Is he stil the same god BigB knew? Martyn has no plans to spend his life in the service of conceited, controlling, callous gods—he’d rather the Watchers have just killed him.

He doesn’t know, though, does he? Martyn has no way of knowing what kind of god he’s saddled himself with. There are fates worse than death out there, fates more torturous than being the mouse in a cat’s game.

He doesn’t even know the god’s name.

Uncertainty like that doesn’t sit well with Martyn at all.

“Right,” Martyn mumbles, “It doesn’t look like we were followed. BigB and Jimmy weren’t when they left, so we might be in the clear.”

The campfire sparks, firing lightning in every direction.

“Hey!” Martyn jerks, scrambling back and out of range. He’d seen what happened to every single Watcher who touched that fire, and he does not plan to be next.

The fire abruptly cuts out, dimming down to red embers. Martyn watches the god simmer for a moment. When the god doesn’t throw out any other sparks, Martyn allows his shoulders to loosen.

“C’mon, dude, there’s no need to vaporize me after a day,” Martyn mutters, an uncertain laugh slipping through his teeth, “Wait, should I be calling you dude? Is that blasphemy?”

The fire crackles, swelling back up, lit to a dull and pleasant orange Martyn isn’t sure what to make of. At the least, the god doesn’t seem angry, so he takes that as a good enough sign for the moment.

At least, good enough to try to push it, just a little.

“Well. You’re going to be dude for now, until I find something to call you. I don’t know your name,” Martyn declares. The fire crackles, a disarmingly comfortable sound. Martyn might feel a bit more valiantly defiant in the face of a god if the didn’t feel like he was scolding his house’s fireplace.

Drastic stand taken, Martyn pushes himself to his feet and gets to poking around the clearing. Most of the leaves have fallen off the trees by now, and he kicks through a few leaf piles until he finds a branch suitable for a torch.

He could just leave, he supposes, picking up a decent-sized stick. The god doesn’t seem to be able to move without help. Martyn could just go, leave him in the dirt here.

Martyn glances back over his shoulder at the campfire, frowning. But the god did help him. He enchanted all of Martyn’s items, did away with everyone who was pursuing him. Martyn’s worries aside, in their very limited interaction, the god truly has been nothing but kind to him.

Besides, if the god can move on his own, and Martyn leaves him…

The branch in his hand is growing some sort of strange fungus, so he sets it back down. He’ll find a better stick and a better plan. Martyn doesn’t really fancy the idea of becoming ash today.

Martyn does find a stick eventually. He takes it back to the god, waving it a bit in front of him.

“Alright, ready to go? And not set me on fire?” Martyn asks. The campfire fluffs up again, which doesn’t exactly inspire Martyn with confidence, but whatever.

The torch takes immediately, snuffing out the campfire.

“Right, you did that back in the, uh, shrine, too, didn’t you?” Martyn asks. The fire lights up, and Martyn hums.

“We should probably figure out ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for you, at least, if we want to be able to talk at all,” Martyn notes, holding the torch out in front of his face. “If you can get bright like that on command—“ The fire brightens considerably, “…yeah, okay. Lighten up for yes, dim down for no?”

The fire beams once more. If Martyn didn’t know any better, he’d think the god were smiling. Martyn nods.

“Good, alright. Then I guess all we’ve got to do now is go.”

[characteranalyst]

Thanks for the tag friend this seems like fun @fluidsoul31. I’m late sorry. But better late than never I guess.

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I have a ridiculous amount of WIPS because my brain does this /very/ annoying thing where when I get an idea for a fic, I have maybe a 10 + hour window (on a good day) to drop what I’m doing put ass in chair and type it out from start to finish without any interruptions or else the idea will just go *poof* gone never to be seen or heard from again. And the only reason I even wrote and posted my last fic was that I blessedly got the idea on a Saturday morning.

So welcome to my graveyard of WIPS that are gathering dust in my Google docs because I got the idea like 5 minutes before I had to leave for work and the juice ran out by the time I got home and all that was left was maybe 7 or 8 paragraphs if I was lucky that I got to spit out before the inspiration flew away.

So let’s start with the Phayu/Rain WIPS -

1. NICE TO M(EAT) YOU a.k.a the Hannibal AU. Butcher! Phayu/Line cook! Rain

(I actually wrote a good chunk of this from Phayu’s POV before I realized it would have been better to start in Rain’s POV so it’s unfinished but technically planned out)

2. SIMON SAYS -

(Fem! Phayu Rain fic. I wrote this one for the sensory deprivation day for Kinktober and it’s like 95% done but I got in my head and thought it was shit so I didn’t post it.)

3. MONEY TO BLOW a.k.a the BL co stars AU but make it dead dove -

(HIGH KEY wish I had called into to work to write this one. I really loved this concept. But I only got to spit out about 6 paragraphs before work. )

4. CARN(IV)AL DESIRES a.k.a the Carnival meet cute fic.

(We are going to collectively ignore my cheesy title. I wrote basically the entirety of this meaning to post for Valentine’s Day but the dialogue was beating my ass so it’s unfinished.)

5. PHAYU.EXE - a.k.a the succubus/computer virus Phayu AU

(So another one I wish I had called in to write. It’s probably 3 paragraphs of actually story and 1000 + words of bare bones skeletal ideas)

6. UNTITLED PORN AU

(I had written this one for the piss day I think for Kinktober. I wrote a good amount of it before the characterization got a little fucky and I had no clue where I was going with it.)

7. SOME LIKE IT KNOT - a.k.a my first attempt at an a/b/o fic

(Another idea 5 minutes before work. But I actually wrote a good chunk of this and world builded a little before I realized I also had no clue where I was going with it. )

8. FUCK ME ONCE SHAME ON YOU - a.k.a Fem!Rain’s gay awakening

(Another Fem! Phayu Rain one. Sort a retelling of the code line meeting night. This is basically fully written but I don’t know I just didnt want to post it. It felt very ‘I’m projecting onto the blorbos and I do not want to be perceived so let’s not post this’. So yeah.)

I have more but I can’t be bothered rn to go rummaging around to look for any more.

So next up is a Ray/Sand Only Friends WIP

1. THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE a.k.a the Ray goes to AA meetings fic

I wrote this while the show was still airing so canon kinda made me give up on finishing it but I wrote a good bit.

And lastly my Killing Stalking WIP

1. MOTHER MAY I?

This is a canon divergence rewrite of chapters 8-9 of the manga. Didn’t finish it but a wrote a lot and it was fun to write something a little fucked up. The manga was /something/ and I was itching to rewrite some parts of those chapters:

Ok so I know I technically didn’t follow the rules because it said only the titles but I couldn’t help myself. Sue me. Send me and ask if any catch your eye.

And I have no clue who to tag so anyone that wants to participate can have at it.

[menofsweaters]

Having sad gay feelings today and have been for a few days. No real reason other than general ennui. Feel free to scroll away.

Sometimes you don't realize when something is a canon event until long after it happens. I've been thinking a lot about this experience I had in college, where I absolutely adored this girl and I was so certain that she felt the same about me. We hung out constantly, we cuddled in her bed, we went to events together, including a silly queer prom that the university put on.

I was casually long-distance dating a guy at the time and we had a good relationship, but it didn't feel right to me to continue it when I knew I felt so strongly about someone else, even though I never cheated or anything. (Also this was before nonmonogamy was so common in the queer community because I'm old.) So I broke up with my nice boyfriend because I was head over heels for this girl instead of letting it continue.

(There were other minor issues in the relationship and he was kind of a jerk at the end, but it wasn't a bad relationship or anything.)

Eventually I tell this girl I'm crazy about that I'm single again and I want to be with her, but her response was incredibly lukewarm, and basically boiled down to "I like you a little bit and I enjoy spending time together, but I'm not attracted to you."

Being rejected sucks no matter what, but she also asked me if I could lose weight because she "likes athletic girls." (Not that it excuses the fatphobia, but I am also a smaller person and was pretty skinny at this time and worked out regularly, I was maybe 120 lbs and a size 4 or 6?)

Anyway, that experience effectively killed my belief that I could tell when a person was into me, and also reinforced my assumption that there is something about me that is not attractive to women and afab people, and those are both things I still think are true about myself many years later.

There's no point to this, I just needed to yell into the void about it in a place where no one from real life will see.

My bad habit of falling head over heels for people who barely tolerate my presence has never been cured, so I compensate by never seriously pursuing anyone and just being flirty and casual instead. I've tried to make peace with the idea that only cis men are drawn to me and I guess? that's fine?

idk man I think people really enjoy the attention I give them - socially, sexually, or kink-related - but they seem to have little interest in me as an actual human who just wants someone to be interested in me beyond the services I provide. I don't even need a relationship or whatever, just tell me I'm fucking cute and have value or something.

(this post brought to you by my old crush who ghosted me messaging me late last night and other attractive people who haunt my dreams)

[paradoxcase]

I picked up my sister and her friends from their week-and-a-half-long hike around Mount Rainier on Friday, and they were still staying with me for a bit until the last one left today, so I took a little break from the Locked Tomb. It's kind of hard to stay up late reading and writing out tumblr posts when someone wants to go to sleep in your living room at 9:30 PM every night

Anyway, on to the glossary

There's actually a lot of interesting worldbuilding info here that I would have loved to have heard about in the actual text of the story, like this isn't like the LOTR appendices where all that information really is extra stuff, or details that aren't important to the main story, or related stories that don't affect the main plot too much, this is just like, basic information about the premise of this universe, and I only found out about it in the glossary at the end of the book

Argh

Anyway

So, yes, this actually did make it into the text of the story, I remember Gideon talking about this. But then, at the end of this glossary, it says

So, if the reason necromancy normally doesn't work in space is that it doesn't have a thalergy anchor, which presumably has to be something that generates a lot of thalergy, is the reason that Lyctors can do necromancy in space that the Lyctor themself is a large enough source of thalergy to be a thalergy anchor? I remember that when Mayonnaise Uncle tried to siphon Ianthe she told him that he couldn't siphon her thalergy fast enough to outpace her generation of it, so that seems maybe accurate. But if that's the case, couldn't any necromancer in the presence of a Lyctor do necromancy in space as well? If the main point of Lyctors is to be able to do necromancy in space, couldn't the Emperor just have a large collection of regular necromancers hanging out with the Lyctors to do that? I also got the impression from the epilogue that the Emperor was more or less confined to his space ship and was not able to actually personally go down to the planet, and I'm curious to find out why that is

So, ok. All of our cavaliers are listed in the Dramatis Personae as being cavalier primaries to the various heirs. But, presumably, being the heir means there is a living ruling necromancer that they are the heir to (well, except in Harrow's case, and I gather that maybe Isaac was technically the ruling necromancer of the Fourth, but probably under some kind of regency arrangement with Magnus and Abigail), and those necromancers probably also had cavaliers, at least at one time, and wouldn't it make sense for the cavalier of the ruler to be the cavalier primary? Like, obviously when it comes to Harrow, her parents' cavalier was officially dead even if her parents were only unofficially dead, so that would pretty much make Ortus (and later Gideon) the cavalier primary, but is it just an accident that something similar happened with all the other houses, making all the other heirs' cavaliers the cavalier primary? Or do rulers sometimes decide to rank their heirs' cavaliers higher than their own cavaliers?

This is also the first information we have about what the Resurrection was. So, it's not just the resurrection of God, but of the entire system, which made all of the planets undead planets that radiate thanergy? I'm having trouble imagining what disaster could cause the destruction of the entire system. Even if the sun turned into a red giant, I think that would only destroy the inner planets, and the outer ones would be fine (just hotter). I'm guessing the reason that necromancers can't reliably reproduce on regular planets is that babies need to be exposed to thanergy in the womb to become necromancers, so that only happens with reasonable frequency on undead planets. Also, if the nine planets in their current state were recreated by God, why did he choose to make them just as uninhabitable as they were before the Resurrection? Surely if he can restore planets after they were destroyed, he can also do some terraforming while he's at it?

This is the first mention in the book of the River, which seems to be the afterlife (although I've also seen it in some comments here, and in some tumblr posts about Palamedes that probably contain spoilers that I haven't read enough of the books to get properly spoiled for yet). But I gather that getting Gideon back isn't going to involve this, since probably Gideon and the other cavaliers that were absorbed by their necromancers don't wind up in the River

So, this seems to discredit Mayonnaise Uncle's statement that the Ninth House was never meant to exist as merely something that some Houses believe to be the case. And indeed, the Emperor didn't seem to think that Harrow wasn't a proper heir, or wasn't mean to be called to become a Lyctor, or that he disapproved of the Ninth House in any way. It's interesting that it says the body in the Locked Tomb was "placed in the Ninth House in order to show it respect", so I kind of wonder if whoever it was was not actually an "unfathomable enemy of the Emperor" and in fact had some other kind of relationship with him

So, there is some development of means of FTL travel, but this doesn't really explain very much about it. I'm curious why they would use this within the main system itself, though - IIRC, I calculated they were going a max of like 5 or 6 times the speed of light to get from Pluto to Earth in an hour at their shortest distance, so at approaching light speed that would only take like six hours; if we make a probably bad and wrong estimate that the longest distance is like three times the shortest distance, that's still less than a day. People sit in economy seats on commercial airplanes for longer than that. Why set up a stele in the main solar system just to save less than a day on the longest possible trip you could make there? Or did they just not even bother to have ships that even go at approaching light speed, and just rely entirely on the stele system, whatever it is?

Also, this says there were "originally seven full Lyctors". We've been told repeatedly throughout the text of the story that there were eight original Lyctors. So does that mean that one of those eight was not a "full Lyctor" and was incomplete in some manner?