#the enchanted bluff

[weaverofink]

“Would it make you happy? Really?”

Deity!Tikki AU-- Tikki can’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be free and Plagg can’t understand why someone would choose to become someone they don’t recognize

[waters-and-the-wilde]

tell you what tho if there's one thing about this episode that nails it for me, it's exactly that sense of having someone's number. there's the way that juno used that phrase himself obv, but like The Thing Is that Juno's been able to see right through him from literally day one. both that he wasn't who he said he was but also that there was enough of something real to get hung up on and haunted by the thought of him for all that time after. and how the most frustrating part of Train From Nowhere is that so much of the real Peter Nureyev is so close to the surface, practically begging Juno to See Him again, and Juno's too wrapped up in his own insecurities and unwillingness to look.

heeheehoohoo and now the turns have tabled and it's like. oh he's trying to do the stone cold haughty thing that lasted all of twenty-four goddamn hours in Man In Glass and now this is after they've had a whole year together. like ofcourse he's physically incapable of saying those words without idk blacking the fuck out or something (which. I am EATING that WiTH mY MOUTh HE CAN'T GIVE UP HOPE. THE THING THAT TIES HIM DOWN IS ALSO GONNA BE HIS SAVING GRACE) and that whole scene makes it clear that it obviously doesn't matter what other move he tries to pull because Juno's come far enough in his own right to have conviction in that knowledge. disappearing again is pretty much all he's got.

[eventseeker789]

Must-Attend Concerts and Christmas Events in Little Rock-PineBluff, AR

Enchanted Forest Trail Of Lights

The Enchanted Forest Trail of Lights Little Rock, Arkansas, is a dazzling spectacle that transforms the city into a winter wonderland during the holiday season. This annual event has become a beloved tradition, enchanting visitors of all ages with its magical displays and festive atmosphere.

The trail winds through a picturesque forest adorned with millions of twinkling lights, creating a whimsical and immersive experience. As visitors stroll along the path, they encounter enchanting scenes, from sparkling light tunnels to illuminated trees, bringing the spirit of the holidays to life.

One of the highlights of the Enchanted Forest is the synchronized light show, where thousands of lights dance to the rhythm of classic holiday tunes. This mesmerizing display captivates audiences and adds a dynamic and joyful element to the festivities.

For families, the Enchanted Forest offers more than just a visual feast. Children are delighted by visits from Santa Claus, holiday-themed activities, and the chance to share their wish lists. The event often features live entertainment, carolers, and warming stations where visitors can enjoy hot cocoa and seasonal treats.

The Enchanted Forest Trail of Lights has become a cherished tradition for the Little Rock community, fostering a sense of togetherness and holiday spirit. Whether it's a romantic evening stroll or a family adventure, this magical event invites everyone to celebrate the joy and wonder of the season.

The Trail of Lights will take place from December 01 to December 30, 2023 from 6:00p.

Martina McBride

Martina McBride, with her powerhouse vocals and heartfelt lyrics, stands as one of country music's enduring icons. Her career took flight in the early '90s, marked by the release of her debut album "The Time Has Come" in 1992. However, it was with her fourth album, "Wild Angels" (1995), that she earned widespread recognition. The title track, a poignant ballad, showcased McBride's ability to convey emotion with unparalleled sincerity.

Martina's discography is a rich tapestry of emotions and stories, weaving through themes of love, empowerment, and resilience. Hits like "Independence Day" and "A Broken Wing" not only topped the charts but also resonated deeply with listeners, earning her numerous awards and accolades.

Beyond her musical prowess, McBride is known for her philanthropic endeavors, advocating for causes like domestic violence awareness and hunger relief. Her philanthropy, coupled with her powerful stage presence, has solidified her status as not just a singer, but a force for positive change.

In a genre often defined by its storytelling, Martina McBride's voice transcends lyrics, becoming a conduit for shared experiences. Her enduring career is a testament to the impact of authenticity in music, proving that, for McBride, every song is not just a performance but a connection with the soul of her audience. You can watch McBride perform at the Oaklawn Racing Casino Resort on November 30 at 7:00p as part of the Little Rock-Pine Bluff, AR concerts 2023.

Author Name Barkat Dhanji

[tenth-sentence]

The jacket which he'd dug for was redundant; the Kind's bluff was called.

"Weaveworld" - Clive Barker

[foone]

The rules are simple: Two wizards. Two pistols. No magic.

Now, don't misunderstand: "No magic" of course means "no magic now". The pistols are constructed using magic, of course. Wizards don't carry unenchanted firearms, that'd be silly. You don't spend years learning to bend all the rules of spacetime just to make a gun that shoots lead bullets using exploding powder. No magic just means you don't cast a shield spell while you're taking aim. But if you want to bring a gun you've designed to cast a shield itself when drawn? Go nuts.

So most wizards will have a dedicated dueling gun for these reasons. You want something that helps against the other wizard's enchantments, something that protects you from the effects of their bullets, and casts some protective magic on you. Shields, invisibility, illusions, healing... Your dueling pistol is usually a tricked out masterpiece of everything you know about magic and firearms.

Which is why this pistol in front of you is so worrying.

It's basically virgin. This is the product of a skilled gunsmith, not a wizard. There's no shields, no infinite ammunition, no enchantments on the bullets, which are mere lead and brass. There's some low level enchantments to strengthen the barrel from misfires, and the powder is enhanced to ensure it's always enough. That's the kind of magic you'd find on a pistol you buy from an average gun store, and it'd cost you only a few coins. This is the weapon of an unmagical security guard or a robber, not the dueling weapon of a world-class magician.

Veynor turned up his magic sense as far as he could without melting his eyes out of his head. Could it have an enchantment to hide other enchantments? No, unless they're being powered by half a city's worth of power. And even if they were, that much anti-magic would hide the low level enhancements on the barrel and the powder.

He asks if he can examine the bullets. "Bullet", says the nameless wizard, pulling out the empty magazine and showing it to Veynor. They pull back the slide and eject a single bullet, grabbing it in their other hand with practiced ease. They hand it over, and Veynor stares at it with the kind of intensity you only see when someone is looking not with their eyes. It's... Lead. Lead and powder and brass and a primer and the only magic here just makes sure the powder is sufficient to fire it. That's the kind of enchantment that you cast on a whole batch of bullets to ensure none will misfire, not the kind a wizard intricately carves into each bullet individually to give them a fighting chance in a magic battle.

Veynor hands back the bullet, and the nameless wizard loads it back in their pistol. It's a bluff, it has to be. They're trying to scare me, he thinks. Wizards know the inverse rule of subtlety and power. Your average wizard throwing fireballs and lightning is a student still in their first few years, while an old master will not need to do anything as flashy. They'll just wave a hand dismissively and your entire family line going back seven generations will retroactively be erased... So this has to be a trick. They know they're outclassed (Veynor has been at this for decades, after all), and are trying to psych him out. With a gun this cheap and unpowerful, they're betting that the more powerful wizard will call off the duel out of imagined danger.

Too bad. Veynor is not blinking at the bluff... "Let's do this".

They face away from each other, as if they could only see from their eyes. Veynor holds his pistol high, and the nameless wizard holsters it, their arrogance apparently extending to not needing to have it ready to fire. Another attempt at bluffing, as if Veynor could even call it off now. The rules are clear, and wizard rules aren't the kind you break without consequences.

They take their requisite ten paces, and Veynor flips around and takes aim, his pistol setting up shields and blurring his image as he takes aim at... Nothing? Where's the nameless wizard?! Did he flee? Veynor didn't feel any ripples from a teleport, he must have gone invisible. His gun continues casting spells on him, and he feels the enhanced vision kick in. The morning mist fades and the clouds in the distance come into view, but still no nameless wizard.

Veynor swears. The nameless wizard must have cheated. There's no way that gun could have done this. If it could, he would have seen the enchantment. Well, if they're cheating... He casts a review spell, rewinding time in his mind and watching the duel again. They face away, the take the steps. 1,2,3...

The cloud parts in the distance. There's a rumbling in the ground. Even with enhanced vision it's not obvious what happens. Veynor tries to dismiss the review magic but their magical control is going haywire. Something is very, very wrong. They start to feel like they're being pulled out to sea by an undertow, as the ambient mana field is suddenly becoming a raging river pulling past them.

In their vision, they see the nameless wizard stop at the end of their paces, and turn as they reach for their pistol. As the review ends, they see the holster glow with the colorless light of magic, as an enchantment activates. That's their trick, they placed magic on the holster! But what kind? And what's happening in the sky?

The clouds part to a black circle with a silver rim. The circle grows in size, seemingly, an Veynor casts a farsight spell now to see this from another angle. Casting his vision miles to the side, he sees the circle is a tube descending from the clouds at a shallow angle, pointed right at him... Oh sweet silent mother, that's the barrel of the pistol. It's now big enough to cross the inland sea, with a caliber better described in miles.

The sky goes dark as the barrel blots out the sun, the shadow stretching halfway to the way station at the edge of the wizarding wastes. With his senses stretched by the enchantments on his gun, he sees the events happening in slow motion. There's a click, and a hammer starts moving towards the back of the bullet.

Veynor tries to set up a teleport, an emergency one to anywhere, anyplace, any time but here. The flowing mana is making it difficult but he sees a destination: the abandoned fortress at the other end of the wastes. It'll be easier to get to than outside the wastes, and it'll give him time to set up another jump. The sky shatters as a sound starts coming his way.

With his slowed time sense, it'll be minutes before he can hear the gunshot, but already the shockwave is visible, even to the unaided eye. The bullet is supersonic, however, so no matter what happens he'll never hear that gunshot: either he teleports out of here or the bullet turns him and half the landscape into a fine paste.

He focuses his vision on the fortress, concentrating on finishing the teleport. The soundwave of the gunshot hits the fortress in his sight beyond sight, and it doesn't collapse, exactly, so much as cease being a structure and reverts back to a thousand small stones no longer sharing any association with each other.

With his destination destroyed, his teleport fizzles. The sky is still dark, but the mana flowing towards him has sped up to the point where he's having trouble staying upright, as his footing gets shakier and shakier. He looks up and sees the slug moving towards him at a bit more than the speed of sound, and he closes his eyes.

It doesn't help, his magical senses continue to show him the movement of objects around him, right up until the moment of impact.

The barrier around the wizard wastes goes white, and slowly fades back down through the colors until it returns to its normal semi-transparency.

The nameless wizard catches the hot brass in their right hand, before it hits the rapidly solidifying bedrock under their feet. The wizard wastes are self-healing (you'd be surprised how much even the average wizard duel destroys the landscape), but that's no reason to litter. They look at the deep crater they find themselves in, and start planning a route up the side. Most of it is still flowing, with the sand and rock intermixing in their white hot state, but there's spots here and there that are cooling quicker.

They could try a teleport, but it's a nice day for a bit of rock climbing. Besides, like they always say: half the trick of being a wizard is knowing when not to use magic. And right now the local mana field is a bit chaotic, having just gone through the equivalent of the Chicxulub impact.

They hike up their robes and begin to climb. Their feet may be heat proof, but they don't want to singe their robe again. It's a lot harder to enchant wool with heat protection spells, something to do with how the will of the former owner interferes. They make a note to do more research into the inherent magical abilities of sheep, once they climb out of this crater. Behind them, rocky ejecta finally crashes back into the crater. They wonder if the barrier has a roof, or if they just flung rocks onto the moons. They'll have to ask one of the lunar residents later, and make amends for any property damage.

They'll have to get lunch after this, all this climbing is working up an appetite. Maybe some mutton chops, since they were thinking about sheep? There's a good place on the bigger moon, they haven't been there in a while.

On the moon, there's a small impact, a puff of dust thrown up into the (lack of) air and slowly drifting back down. In the puddle-sized crater, a heavily enchanted pistol lies, still in perfect shape. The engraving on the side, readable in all languages, says "if found, return to Veynor". The dust lands on it, slowly burying it.

[weltenwellen]

Carl Phillips, from “The Enchanted Bluff”, Then the War: And Selected Poems, 2007-2020

[painted-bees]

September 23rd 2010

 i)   The tide was lower than Magritte had ever seen it.

  Perhaps ‘seen’ was the wrong word to use. The inky darkness of night swallowed the barren, stoney features of Smelt Bay, as well as the ocean that lapped distantly at its shore. Rather, she heard it; the white noise of the waves breaking unusually far away. All the better, honestly. She wasn’t here to swim. In fact, Smelt Bay was a terrible beach for swimming. It wasn’t just that the frigid coastline lacked in soft, warm sand; the uneven and slippery rockbed that composed the entire stretch of bay was covered, acre by acre, in countless oyster shells. They adorned almost every rock they could cling to, and their razor sharp edges could slice easily through hand and foot like a warm knife through butter. Which is why Magritte plodded along, slowly and carefully, in her brand new hiking boots.

  Raf had cautioned her against clambering around the beach so late at night and, usually, she heeded his anxieties about it. It wasn’t initially her intention to scramble down the bluff and onto the beach; she had only wanted to come out and watch the seafoam crash gently upon the stones. At night, under the moonlight, the contrast between white foam and inky water enchanted her with its otherworldly beauty. However, upon reaching the beach, the tide had been drawn out further than she could see. And so now, she was looking for it. 

  She had the good sense not to stumble forward in the dark, using her phone's flashlight to illuminate the path in front of her. She loved scouring the beach at low tide. Countless crabs of all sizes scuttled and scurried beneath the unnatural light of her phone. Her eyes met with the occasional, chubby pink and purple starfish that had been abandoned by the retreating ocean. Both the crabs and the brightly coloured starfish were a common sight on these beaches and, while she appreciated their company, they failed to make her pause. What did capture her attention was a fat, orange blob of a creature.

  What are you? Magritte stopped to crouch down for a better look, lifting her phone to shine upon it. Oh, just another starfish…   Well, no. Not really. It had one, two, three, four…eight…thirteen legs! She stared at it for a moment of deliberation before extending a tentative forefinger to poke its roughly textured, glistening surface. Before her finger could get within an inch of it, a gentle blanketing wave of frothy ocean fanned out between her and the creature, covering both it and her hiking boots in several inches of freezing water.

 With a startled yelp at the stabbing cold, Magritte bolted upright as she found herself soaked to the ankles.

  “Aw, shit-!” She lifted one foot out, and then the other in an awkward hopping skip, trying in vain to keep her feet up, out of the rogue wave. Apparently, the tide had been a lot closer than she thought. She continued her silly, wet, hop-scotchy walk back towards the bluffs with a self-depreciative chuckle. She expected the wave to recede.

  But it didn’t. 

  Instead, another wave layered itself on top, swallowing her calves, and then another that submerged her past the knee. The arresting shock of the cold was outcompeted by the jolt of fear that kicked her into a frantic scramble. As she abandoned caution, the forceful current of the tide rose past her waistline, shoving her forward and off her feet. The water’s piercing chill bit through her chest, squeezing a sharp gasp from her just as her head was pulled beneath the waves.

  Primal terror possessed her to reach forward with her hands and find purchase on any surface she could grab. Her fingers closed around fists full of jagged oyster shells that held like cement to the stones they were anchored to. As the ripping current suddenly dragged Magritte back, the soft flesh of her grasping palms may as well have been wet tissue for how well they maintained their structure. What little air she held her lungs escaped with the muffled scream that boiled out from her throat. She tumbled like a rag doll as she was pulled backward by the powerful riptide. Her knees and elbows painfully scraped across the oyster-laiden ground in intervals that only served to further disorient her.

  Panic crescendoed, blackening the edges of her vision just in time for her head to break through the surface of the waves. She treaded water with wild, unevenly flailing limbs, drawing in a sharp gasp that was quickly strangled by a fit of wet coughing. Chest, hands, arms, knees, everything burned. And what didn’t burn felt as though it were being needled by cold knives. She couldn’t stop coughing. She couldn’t draw a proper breath. Her head rushed with the sound of waves. Or blood. Her eyes were useless as strangled tears obscured her vision.

  Until, at last, her coughing subsided, and she drew in one…two…three shaky, shallow breaths. She held it for a moment, the best she could.

  And…it was quiet.

  The sound of water lapping at her jawline and behind her ears outcompeted the volume of waves across the distant shore.

 The very distant shore.

 She released her breath, surrendering to over-exerted panting. But, even her starving lungs were too constricted by the freezing water to draw in proper gulps of air. Her breaths were short, sharp, and uneven as she attempted to scan the landscape for signs of the shore.

  She could not see land; not even the light of distant houses. Beneath the starry sky, the world around her seemed unnaturally dark.

  A nervous laugh broke out of her throat, accompanied with a teeth-clattering, quiet little chant. “F-fuck, fuck, f-fuck, fuck.” 

  The searing hot pain of her oyster-inflicted wounds had, at least, subsided rather quickly. She didn’t attempt to move her fingers, let alone ball her hands into fists. She didn’t even dare to look at them. She could barely feel them at all.

  Experimentally, she drew in as deep a breath as she could, and stopped treading water. She felt herself begin to sink, and with more effort than it was worth, she shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her boots. Or rather, her boot, singular. Apparently, she had lost the other one already. Her feet were so numb that she couldn’t feel the difference. Shedding the remaining boot hardly made her more buoyant, but it felt like it helped.

  She attempted to curl her lips into a smile. “O-okay, w…well…If I had to choose…between f-freezing to d-eath or drowning, I’d rather freeze. S-so let's focus on that, I g-uess.”

  Bleak.

  Was there any point in swimming when she couldn’t see the shore? How long could someone survive in water like this? Was she afraid of dying?

  Not nearly as afraid as I was just a few moments ago.

  She should have felt…more upset than this. It seemed strange. Maybe she was just too cold to think properly, but most likely, the reality of her situation hadn’t set in yet. After all, the situation was salvageable. A boat could come along and haul her out of the water. The tide could wash her up onto the shore. There were lots of different little islands around here, she was bound to wash up on the shore of one, right? What were the chances of that happening before she could freeze to death? 

  …How long would it take for the hopelessness to set in? If she could keep making light of the situation, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

  “And, yan-n-no…it’s been a g-good run.”

  …Hasn’t it?

  Truth be told, things had only just started getting really good.   Well, kinda.   This year was a rough patch. Uncle Bill’s passing in late April had really…thrown things askew. But the island was a perfect escape from the fake sympathies, the incessant phone calls, the social obligations…all the stress… It was gonna give them the peace, quiet, and space to properly grieve.   We were gonna start playing music again.   They had only been on the island for a week. The cottage Bill had left to Raf was so nice. It had a piano. It was cute. Warm.

  Of all things, it was the thought of the cottage’s little black wood stove that made Magritte’s eyes water with a sudden stab of helpless dismay. 

  No, why? That’s so stupid.

  Why the stove? Why not the grief of her parents? Why not the fact that she’d never be able to play music again? Why not–

  “Raf.” It came out as a croak that she barely even recognized as her own voice. “S-shit. I’m sorry, Raf. M-man. This was my s-stupid idea. It was my id-dea to come here, it was s-s-supposed to be so good. B-but…th-this is r-really…gonna…wreck you, isn’t it.” 

  There was a long pause as Magritte bobbed uselessly with the waves, trying to will her numb, sluggish limbs to move in a manner that allowed her to survey her surroundings once again for any sign of land. Maybe she should just start swimming in a direction, would that have been better? Would it make her feel warmer? Or…would it just exhaust her faster?

  She was already so tired.

  I don’t want to be anyone’s traumatic loss, I just want to be warm.

  How the hell did this even happen? What caused the ocean to hit her so suddenly, like a river?

 It doesn’t make sense. What if this is just a really bad dream? I could wake up in bed, soft and warm, and held…coffee...and…eggs. Over easy in front of the wood stove. Pyjamas…slippers, but like…not the linoleum kind, it needs to have enough structural integrity for breakfast…to support the…workload and drive me to the–

-PIFFF-

  Magritte hadn’t realised that her eyelids were closed, but the sudden explosive hissing that erupted right beside her caused them to snap wide open. For a second, she thought that something had fallen off the top shelf of her closet. But almost as quickly as she imagined that, the biting cold water encroaching on the corners of her nose and eyes reminded her of where she was. 

-FIFFFFF-

  The same sound again, slightly further away. Panic rejuvenated her for a brief moment until she saw the source of the noise. A jet of pale mist erupted from the surface of the water, and in its wake, a dark, triangular silhouette glided smoothly downward. The wet, rubbery flesh glistened in the moonlight before sinking beneath the rolling waves.

   Whales.

  Magritte attempted to lift her head enough to see if she could spot them again. Sure enough, three or four more of the creatures surfaced silently. The ghostly silhouettes of their dorsal fins were all that gave away their position. These must have been the orcas the neighbours had mentioned. Even Raf once managed to catch a glimpse of them from the shore, but Magritte hadn’t been with him to see it. She had wanted so badly to look at them…

  “Oh…well, thanks for showing up, guys.” Her teeth weren’t clattering anymore, but she could hardly bring her voice above a whisper. For some reason, her throat felt so tight. “Please don’t toss me around like a seal… I’ve seen what you do to them…on t.v.”

  The whales responded with a series of loud, spouting breaths; some nearby, others further away. As she recalled the image of a half flayed seal rag-dolling through the air, anxiety blossomed in the pit of her stomach, Magritte turned her gaze upward and hung it on the three bright stars of Orion’s belt. 

  If making noise is encouraged as a way of deterring bears from harassing hikers, maybe the same was true for whales and swimmers. I can be weird and loud, can’t I?

  She attempted to sing a song. Her strangled voice rasped, fruitlessly struggling to be heard above the sounds around her.

  “What are you hunting up there in the stars?

  Is it beasts, or demons, or old battle scars?

  Do you remember the warmth of my palm in yours

  Is it buried in rubble from all of those wars?

  You’ve lost yourself so far, far away

  Searching for ghosts and impossible prey.

  You’ve flown too far from the earth and the sea,

  Please come back…come back…

  …Come back to…”

  As her words drifted, so too did she; down, down, into the cold, quiet void.

  And it embraced her, lovingly.

  ii)

  Raf’s eyes opened to the sound of ocean waves and a dull ache in his neck. Light poured out from the cottage windows, pooling warmly across the sprucewood deck and the white, woven hammock that cradled him. An earbud filled his left ear, but no music played. Either his iphone had come to the end of his playlist, or it had run out its battery life while he slept.

  With a tired groan, he sat up and stretched, gingerly tilting his head to loosen the painful knot in his neck. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but he should have expected it after a relaxing joint and some quality tunes. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up. Perhaps it was the chill. It wasn’t cold enough for his breath to hang in the air, but it was chilly enough for him to wish for a sweater–rather than a t-shirt–beneath his jacket.

  Or maybe it was the concussive sound of the waves.

  The ocean wasn’t visible from his cottage. There was a strip of dense forest that lined the property and separated it from the bluffs. Still, the white noise of the ocean could always be heard through the trees. The salt could be smelled on the breeze, and it could be felt collecting in his hair. It must have been exceptionally turbulent out there tonight, for he could hear the waves crashing with an unusually loud clarity.

  Raf lifted his phone and turned on the LED screen to check the time. Its battery life was still good, but as he had suspected, his playlist had played through to the last track. 

  1:34 a.m.

  The corners of Raf’s mouth twitched.

  Magritte hadn’t woken him up to herd him into bed when she came home. Was she pissed off at him for declining to walk with her? 

  In fairness, he had been…difficult to manage the past half year. And it became increasingly obvious that Magritte’s bountiful patience had been running thin over the past month or two. She had begun to adopt his defensive snippiness–not at him, but at the things she knew infringed upon him. Phone calls, text messages, the gestures of concerned friends and colleagues reaching out to see if he was okay. The cold, prying interrogations–thinly veiled by hollow sympathies–querying for available pieces of his uncle’s estate.

  The man’s body hardly had time to grow cold before Ephrem representatives began hounding Raf about the company shares he had inherited. His family in Monaco had gone so far as to request the retrieval of Uncle Bill’s body. “He should be put to rest on home soil”–but his will had detailed what was to be done. By his request, Uncle Bill’s body was kept here, in British Columbia. Raf had to take care of it all; the estate, the funeral, and the vultures.

  All he wanted to do was hide.

  And, in a way, that’s mostly what he did. He managed as much as he could, but once the funeral had been concluded, his energy and willingness to keep on top of things dissolved. He just couldn’t…deal…with the people. Any of them. At some point, they had all stopped resembling human beings, and felt more like a pack of feral dogs with no purpose greater than to sate their gluttony. Every interaction bloodied him with clawing, hungry teeth.

  Magritte picked up the slack for him. It was…beyond her ability, honestly. But she did her best, at the expense of indulging her passions. While he isolated and avoided the torrent of his unwanted responsibilities, Magritte had lived those months constantly on the backfoot, attempting to hold things together and never quite managing to see any of it through properly. It was simply too many balls for her poor little arms to carry, and as she tried to pick up the ones she had dropped, more always spilled out. 

  Last month, it had finally driven her to tears.

  Raf had been woefully inadequate at showing his appreciation for her efforts and, even as he watched her sob in frustration, he found it difficult to provide any meaningful comfort. Nothing broke his heart quite like seeing her cry, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to promise any fun distractions. He couldn’t tell her, in earnest, that things were fine. He couldn’t give her the reward of knowing that she had been able to make everything right and good for him. He could only tell her that he knew she was doing her best, that he was glad to have her with him, and that he loved her. 

  More than anything, he loved her.

  Talk was cheap. He knew that better than anyone. But living in ‘survival mode’ left very little in the way of emotional resources, and he had become very cold, irritable, and distant. Still, Magritte sought out his company. She wished to share good experiences with him and did her best to take care of him despite his diminishing reciprocation over the past few months.

  Retreating to Cortes Island had been her idea. She had never visited the place before, but when Raf described it as a tiny, isolated little community with no supermarkets nor chain restaurants, no hospitals nor police stations, and with the population of a small school, her eyes lit up.

  “It’s perfect! We could just disappear there and take a year–or five–to just…recover from everything!” Her tone had taken on a conspiratorial tone when she added, “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

  She had underestimated the scope of work that accompanied ‘disappearing to a small island for a year’. In contrast, the workload was all his mind could fixate on. But– a body of water separating him from the relentless chaos of the mainland was appealing enough for him to commit to the move. And so, they made their hasty preparations, packed up, and left without a word.

  A week had passed since they moved into the small cottage, and Raf had to admit that the quiet calm of the island was…a relief. 

  He had asked Magritte for a month. A month of nothing; no outings, no plans, no obligations–just rest. It was the closest thing to hibernation he was ever going to experience, and she had agreed to it. It didn’t stop her, though, from inviting him out for walks, and to see the ocean with her. It was the bare minimum, and he should have obliged her more often than he did. But truly, all he wanted to do was stay home, smoke weed, listen to music, and sleep.

  And that’s what he had chosen to do when she invited him to watch the waves with her, some time after 10pm. She didn’t seem bothered when he lazily declined to accompany her, but perhaps she had grown cranky about it during her time out. Seeing him passed out in the hammock, she probably left him to endure the natural consequences of his poor choices, and went to bed without him.

  Honestly, catching a chill and a sore neck was negligible punishment compared to the guilt of disappointing Margie. On the other hand, he had asked her for a month–just one month–to be as lazy and absent as he wanted to be, and she had agreed to it. So if she was pissed off at him–

  Her shoes were not at the front door.

  Usually, Magritte kicked her boots off before entering the house, and rarely brought them inside. Raf opened the door, expecting to see them on the shoe rack, but they weren’t there either. Nor was her jacket strewn over the back of the couch as it should have been.

  He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and marched quietly up the steep, narrow little staircase to the second floor. Down the short corridor, his bedroom door was still open and he could see through to his window and the night sky that overlooked the foot of his bed. Peeking his head in, the blankets laid smooth and undisturbed across the mattress, folded over to expose the neatly arranged pillows.

  Raf pulled himself back into the tiny corridor with a bewildered frown.   “Margie?” It wasn’t a yell, but his voice projected loudly enough to be heard throughout the small cottage.

  There was no answer, only the gentle hum of the fridge downstairs, accompanied by the rustling of leaves in the breeze outside. And the crashing of waves upon the unseen shore.

  With an agitated groan Raf dropped back down the stairs, towards the front door, and hastily put on his sneakers. Something at the beach must have captivated her. Maybe some weird sealife, maybe partying campers. Either way, she had lost track of time, and now he had to go find her. At least she couldn’t be disappointed with him if she had chosen to stay  out at a worryingly late hour.

  The beach wasn’t more than a fifteen minute walk away, and all he had to do was follow the gravel road down the slope, onto Potlatch Road, and then down to Smelt Bay. There were no lamps lining the street, and so Raf found himself relying on his phone torch to light the path ahead of him. Despite the darkness, it wasn’t an eerie nor dangerous walk by any means. Accompanied by the singing of crickets, he was comfortably familiar enough with these streets, trusting them even with a lone, wandering Margie. 

  As he made his way briskly down the long, paved length of Potlatch road, his curiosity was tickled by just how close the sound of lapping ocean waves seemed to be. Perhaps it was the way it echoed off the treeline, but it sounded as though it were almost right in front of him.

 Raf rounded the broad corner towards Smelt Bay–and stopped.

  The pavement directly beneath his feet had become gradually more wet, as though a heavy rain had passed through recently. That would have been strange enough on its own. He’d have definitely noticed if it had been raining, and there wouldn’t have been such a clear,  sudden border between dry ground and waterlogged asphalt. He lifted his phone light to shine it further down the road, and frowned.

  Ahead of him, the street was covered in a thin layer of water, seafoam lapping over concrete and into the grassy ditch. As he continued a tentative pace forward, the water wasn’t quite high enough to spill over the rubber soles of his shoes. He walked until Potlatch met with Smelt Bay Road, where he was granted an unobscured view of the beach. The ocean’s waves broke over the bluffs, flooding the street and the grassy plots of land that faced the open bay. 

  “...The hell?” He muttered, barely above a whisper. 

  The ocean had to have risen a fair few feet in order for it to breach the bluffs. Was it possible for the tide to get this high? He watched as an empty bottle, tangled within a plastic bag, washed across the street alongside a random toque and a mess of uprooted reeds. Debris, both natural and unnatural, lined the waterlogged road. An enormous, sea weathered piece of driftwood that had spent years as a reliable landmark on the stony beach–now sat wedged askew in the ditch. A flash flood?

  Tsunami.

  Wait–

  Anxiety closed its claws around his gut, and twisted.

  “Margie?!” He barked out her name in the direction of the beach.

  He took a few automatic strides towards the submerged bluff before halting, and he turned his phone over in his hand. Opening his contact list, he hit Magritte’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. Cell coverage on the island was spotty at best, but to his relief, the call connected. As it rang, he paced, his feet kicking up cold water into his shoes.

  “Come on, answer your phone. I’m not gonna be mad at you, just answer your damn phone.”

  He let it ring until the robotic voice of the phone operator made him hang up.

  And then he tried again, to the same result.

  What the hell could he do?

  What was he supposed to do?

  Don’t catastrophize, it’s not the worst case scenario, it never is.

  Immediately, his brain had filled him with thoughts of Margie getting bowled over by enormous waves and dragged to sea. But, based on the fact that no one else was out inspecting damages or lamenting their losses, things probably hadn’t happened as suddenly nor as violently as his imagination pictured it. Realistically, she likely saw the tide start to come in and watched it from a distance, perhaps with some other folks who were hanging around the area. Plausibly, she was at a campsite somewhere, talking about it over smores and cheap booze. Or something like that.

  But then, why didn’t she answer her phone?

  Raf had already turned around and began walking in the direction of the camping lots. All he had to do was find one that still had a fire going at this time of night. But, as his feet left solid pavement and marched onto the dirt road of the Smelt Bay campsites, he found that the tide had flooded this area as well. The inch of water blanketing the ground turned it into a muddy mess. There were no tents pitched in any of the lots. No campfires, either. Two or three of the lots housed a parked RV, elevated off the ground. Dry, and oblivious to the seawater beneath their tires. None of them showed any signs of waking life.   Magritte wasn’t here.

  Coming upon one of the empty lots, Raf found a sturdy tree stump that had clearly been fashioned for seating, and dropped himself down on it. He buried his face into his hands with a fraught sigh. There had been tents here, he knew that much. The inhabitants likely packed up and abandoned the lots in favour of finding a dry place to spend the night. If the RVs and trailers were still here, clearly there couldn’t have been much of a panic. The waterline hadn’t risen catastrophically.

  Still, Magritte was missing.

  He tried to call her one more time, and was greeted unhelpfully by the operating system once again.

  What if she had gotten home after he had left to find her?

  The thought pulled Raf back onto his feet, and what started as a swift walk home hastened into an anxious jog. 

  The tide, he noted, was slowly receding. A length of road that had been submerged when he first arrived was exposed once again to dry off in the chilly night air. For some reason, the sight of it relieved his anxiety somewhat. There was nothing inherently dangerous about the strange tide; it wasn’t any kind of disaster. Likely, Margie was at home, worried and waiting for him. Her phone battery must have depleted. It would explain why she wasn’t calling him back. 

  It wasn’t long before he was walking down the long, rough, unpaved driveway; under the boughs of spruce and cedar trees and into the clearing of the cottage's wild, grassy property.

  Approaching the house, he called out her name across the yard to no answer. The lights were still on in the living room and kitchen. He climbed the two steps of the porch up to the front door and, calling her name once more, he opened it.

  No response.

  Before stepping inside, he kicked off his muddy shoes and then closed the door behind him. 

  “Margie.” His volume was conversational as he scaled the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor and diligently checked each of the bedrooms. 

  No. She wasn’t here.

  Then…where was she?

  Not the ocean. Not the ocean.   Not in the ocean.

  Sitting down on the foot of the bed, Raf stared at the floor and tried to fight off a wave of despair.

  There was no way.

  There was no fucking way. It would have been beyond cruelty to leave him like this. He wasn’t gonna be able to…it wasn’t something he could handle.

 Steadying himself with a deep breath, he scooted over to his side of the bed, took his laptop up off his night table, and unfolded it on his lap. A phone jack tethered it to the wall behind the nightstand and provided a serviceable internet connection. He opened a browser and typed into the search bar; “How long to wait before making a missing person report?” 

  Apparently the answer was “not at all”.

  Raf looked up the appropriate number to call, picked up the phone, and dialled. >>part iii, iv, and v<<

[gay-dorito-dust]

Soft Eddie Munson moments cuz I’m soft for him.

This lanky bastard likes cuddles, this has been reiterated constantly but I couldn’t help but agree with the majority on this one. I firmly believe that Eddie enjoys the cuddles where he could lay his head on your chest and indulge himself in your existence, tugging you closer to him based off of the fact that Munson couldn’t get enough of you whilst letting out a sigh of relief that he’d been holding back for awhile.

Though I also feel like you’d have clothes that you could both comfortable get yourselves under without much struggle because Eddie thought it’d be a good idea for you two to bond whist you only went along with it because it meant getting more cuddly affection time out of him. So it was a win/win for everyone included which was only you and Eddie.

He’s not afraid of PDA but I’d like to think that even he has limitations of how much public affection he could take before it became too much. So naturally it became common to find Eddie smothering you with affection before you were forced to part ways for prolonged periods of time that only made you both eagerly await your reunion like the dramatic dumbasses you were. Hugs, forehead touches, kisses, you name it Eddie has smothered you in them but there would be times where Eddie preferred linking pinkies with you as you walked through town together as to not draw attention to yourselves.

He acts like he doesn’t give a shit about what anybody thinks of him when we all know that’s been proven to be a pile of horseshit when it’s blatantly apparent that Eddie infect does care about public opinion, a lot so that you would walk in on him during an moment of insecurity whenever he got emotional. He’d try to hide it from you in fear that your perspective of him would change if he did shed a tear in your presence and that you’d laugh at him but would be prove wrong when you only sat by him.

Allowing yourself to become the shoulder he cries on as he bears his soul out to you about everything he’s let weighed upon his shoulders thus far and it brought s tear to your eyes just hearing the raw and painful emotions he emitted from his throat that you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve let s tear or two slip past your cheeks. It’s a moment of vulnerability between you two but that’s what ultimately made your bond even stronger then before because to see one’s self in a vulnerable state was something that shouldn’t be taken for granted as humans weren’t known to be the most open with one another due to our complexities. Needless to say it would act as a blessing in disguise for the two of you.

You could read him like a book and admittedly Eddie hated it at first but overtime grew fond of it as it meant that he didn’t have to put on a facade with you and respected you whenever you called his bluff before stating otherwise. You didn’t treat him like everyone and their pretentious parents/relatives/guardians did and he held mad respect for you when you had the guts to defend Eddie from anyone spewing shit behind his back like a coward or saying it to his face whilst getting up close and personal. It made him melt at the fact that he wasn’t the only one protecting himself anymore almost as though you were a team of two instead of a lonely team of one. A dream team if you will. It was exciting.

You’d spend most of your time adventuring together, exploring the woods like little kids would, imagining it to be the enchanted forest of a mystical kingdom and that your characters were the brave and vigilant co-protagonists that ventured into it’s depths in search of awesome stories whether they’d be your own or others to share, knowing you had one another to fall back on when things got rough.

With Eddie there was never a wrong time to let your inner child play. To run wild while you still had the chance. With Eddie your imagination could go anywhere you wanted it to go and he would be there to encourage you with his one fascinating imaginations which has less to many a collaborations in the past as you’d each give a plot of land a name, a history, it’s culture, it’s traditions, it’s people to such an insane level of detail.

Given how easily it was to flow ideas between the two of you it’s less many to speculate that you and Eddie had an almost psychic link which would only be then added to your characters in yours and Eddie’s fantasies for plot convenience. It’s cute.

I’d feel as though Eddie likes domestic, slow moments where it’s just you and him sat on top of somewhere with some snacks between the pair of you with drinks a plenty to share and spare as he’d tell you about practically everything since he’d have a incredibly hard time trying to hide things for you seeing as how he values your respect and trust above anything else. You’d be the first to know about a lot of things actually that when you return the sentiment by telling him things before telling anyone else showed him that you held him in just as high regard as he did you.

You’d could even just be sitting in absolute silence and Eddie would find some way to make it sound as though you’ve done a thousand things. He’s a puppy dog when it comes down to it and no I will not elaborate on that you’ll just have to trust my judgment.

He even loves seeing you wear his denim jacket or his T-shirts but not in the ‘they’re my property’ kind of way but more of a ‘oh my god, holy shit their wearing my clothes?! This beautiful and or handsome person likes me enough to feel comfortable to be seen in my clothes that’ll probably smell like them by the end of the day. I’m a lucky bastard, I’m jealous of myself.’ Kind of way as he’d watch you shrug his clothing on from the doorway, sheepishly smiling as he cast his eyes downwards so that you wouldn’t see his flustered stare but it would already be too late as you’ve already seen his lingering gaze and softened eyes gaze at your being with a sense of euphoria you haven’t seen before that left you feeling more confident then before.

Eddie is awkward when it comes to love. There I said it but he’d be so certain that you were the one for him that he didn’t even bother hiding it because to him it was bound to happen eventually, seeing how happy you made one another with just the mere thought of being within each others presence that overtime everyone, even Eddie himself, would fully believe that you were already a thing and hilarity would ensue when you tried to correct them as Eddie only looked at you weirdly.

Person: how long have you been together?

Reader: we’re not together actually.

Eddie: we’re not?

Reader: no, you haven’t even asked me out Eddie.

Eddie: I haven’t? Are you sure? I’m not being pranked right now am I?

Reader: yeah because if you did I would’ve remembered it, which I don’t.

Eddie: …so what you’re telling me is that one time at the cinema didn’t count as a date?

Reader: I thought it was just an excuse for you to use so that we could hang out.

Yeah you’d learn to communicate better soon after because for you Eddie was entirely worth the effort and for Eddie you were entirely worth the effort.

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

Notes: this story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female and above average height.

Chapter 8

Warnings: swearing, a little angst, a little fluff

The next morning Helen Cho examined Nat and gave her a clean bill of health. In her report to Tony she noted that Nats vision had likely returned weeks ago but she had rescheduled her appointments multiple times, confirming his belief that Nat was stringing them along.

When the room Nat had been living in was cleaned the maintenance worker brought a box of items that were left behind to Tony's office where he was having a quick lunch with Pepper.

As Pepper went through the few items, Nats bandages went in the trash, books returned to the library but a pair of blue boxer briefs caught her attention.

"Tony? Were these Natashas? They don't look like they would fit her."

Tony looked at the offending item curiously

"While I can't say for sure as I have no idea what she wears or what size, those don't look like they would fit her." He held them up to his waist and chuckled, "Don't look like mine, like I would ever wear some poly blend, but I have an idea."

He cleared his throat

"FRIDAY? Could you tell Rogers I need to speak with him when he has a moment?"

"Of course, Boss." The AI replied.

A few hours later Steve knocked on Tony's office door "What's up, Stark?"

Tony chuckled "Just working on a little mystery. Look familiar?" He picked the briefs and showed them to Steve whose eyes grew wide when he recognized them.

Steve turned red and stuttered nervously, unsure where this was going "oh uh yeah, th those are mine. They caught in the dryer or something?"

Tony smiled menacingly "Nope. They were in Romanoffs room. Any idea why that would be?"

Steve chuckled "I uh I don't know. I went to talk to her a couple of times, trying to understand her point of view but, I'm ugh I don't know."

Tony shook his head "You're A shit liar Rogers. Just come clean so I don't have to check the footage from her room."

Steve tried to bluff "What do you mean Stark? What are you trying to accuse me of?"

Tony looked him in the eye "Jesus, Steve are you really unable to admit you were still fucking her? After everything you both did, how badly you hurt Y/N and you still couldn't let her go? Must be some enchanted pussy."

Steve flinched "It's none of your business who I'm intimate with, Tony. She's gone so let it go."

Tony tsked "I don't really see it that way since she was a duplicitous bitch and your continued association speaks to your character. I need to know what else you've hidden from the team and I want your word that you will leave Y/N alone."

Steve shook his head "No. I'm not hiding anything that you need to know and I'm definitely not giving you shit. If I want to pursue Y/N and try to fix what I've done it's between me and her."

Tony folded his arms over his chest "If it potentially messes with my team then I need to know. I guess you can try to fix things but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy for you. That poor girl has been thru enough, why can't you just let her and Barnes be happy."

"Never thought I'd see you stand up for Bucky, Stark."

Tony shrugged "Never thought you'd turn out to be a lying POS. Winter Soldier aside he seems a better man than you."

"Fine, Tony I have things to do." Steve stalked out, fuming.

On his way to his room he passed the common room where Rainbow and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch, quietly talking with lots of giggles and kissy noises.

Steve scoffed "Don't you both have private rooms where you can ahem fondue instead of hanging all over each other out here? What happened to modesty?" he grumbled as he walked off.

Bucky and Rainbow looked at each other confused at Steve's outburst. Bucky shrugged she giggled and they went back to their bubble until Sam showed up.

Sam grinned at them "Well, aren't you love birds just adorable." He started singing "Rainbow and Bucky, sittin in a tree, K I S S I N G-" He teased.

Bucky blushed before he glared at Sam, cutting him off, not wanting him to make Rainbow uncomfortable.

"Grow up, Sam. You'd think you had never seen a happy couple. Must have been one Hell of a dry spell."

Sam laughed "Nah, I just enjoy getting you flustered."

Bucky had enough and raised his voice "You need to stop-"

Rainbow softly touched his cheek and Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, Sam all but forgotten

"It's ok Jamie, he doesn't bother me. Nothing else matters when I'm with you."

Sam smirked "Aawww, ain't you the

cutest.

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

About a month after Nat left the compound, there was a fundraiser for the New York library. Bucky and Rainbow were hesitant to join the team on a nite out but Tony did everything short of calling it mandatory so they agreed to shut him up.

Details about the triangle with Rainbow, Nat and Steve had been leaked including some racey pics, everyone assumed by Nat, and the teams popularity took a hit. Steve's approval rating was down more than anyone besides Nat.

Unfortunately they received funding from multiple governments and other rich benefactors besides Tony and the negative numbers made some of them twitchy. Tony was convinced that coming out together and showing a United front would help.

There hadn't been any huge incidents that required Avengers level intervention so Rainbow and Bucky hadn't been on any missions while he taught her how to fight hand to hand.

Steve was doing everything he could think of to get alone time with Rainbow but distracting Bucky wasn't enough. The entire team worked to keep Steve away from her which made him short tempered. He disappeared for a few hours at least 3 late nights a week and would be less awful the next morning but it didn't last long.

Everyone assumed he was hooking up but only Tony had a good inkling of who Steve was meeting up with, which meant she was still in town.

That concerned Tony. After the reveal of Nats multiple faces he didn't trust her, or Steve's, intentions so kept a close eye on Steve and kept the other eye open for her to try to worm or cheat her way back on to the team. Or cause them more damage. He couldn't find any trace of her or evidence that she was up to something but knew they hadn't seen the last of her. Tony kept it all to himself so that he wasn't needlessly worrying the team, who all had their own suspicions.

He had FRIDAY watching out for her without any luck, knowing that her particular skill set would help her stay under the radar.

Wanda and Rainbow went shopping to find outfits for the library gala. Rainbow found the perfect dress, a pastel ombre floor length gown with spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline.(like Faith Hills 2002 Oscar dress).

Rainbow was so excited, her first event as an official Avenger and a chance to dress up and go out on Bucky's arm.

She was also nervous about such a big event and all the people that would be there. It wasn't Tony's event or his venue so she was a little nervous about security and Nat trying to pull something.

Or Steve trying to get her and Bucky apart. Steve and Nats deception made her nervous and skittish about trusting anyone but Bucky, Sam, Tony, Bruce and Wanda. Steve was another story, he kept pursuing her but never even apologized for what he had done, trying to convince her it didn't happen how she remembered.

The day of the event Pepper called in a beauty team to help get the ladies ready so they could relax. They gossiped and giggled about the men in their lives, over champagne, carefully avoiding any mention of Steve or Nat.

Once it was time to go they went to the lobby to meet their men who were waiting, mostly patiently.

When Bucky saw Rainbow his mouth dropped open and his eyes darkened. It took him a moment to speak

"Damn doll, you look more beautiful every time I see you. All the men there are gonna be green with envy when they see my girl." He kissed the back of her hand.

Rainbow admired Bucky's all black look with a small splash of color in a pocket square that matched her dress.

Sam was also there with a very cute girl from the research team, they had bonded over Red Wing. Lauren was very sweet and a little crazy and not used to the kind of attention Sam lavished on her but she loved it.

As they headed towards the stretch SUV a familiar but unwelcome voice called out "Oh good, I got here just in time." And proceeded to insert himself between Bucky and Rainbow, hand on her lower back as he opened the car door for her.

Rainbow pulled away from Steve with a look of disgust on her face, Bucky bumped Steve with his shoulder to force him away from Rainbow.

Steve scoffed "Isn't this whole outing supposed to show we are still a united team, ready to work together and protect humanity? Who's going to buy that if everyone is giving me dirty looks and flinching away?"

Tony sighed "Dammit, he's right. We need to just hold our noses and look like one happy family." He looked at Rainbow sadly "You should probably dance with him at least once just for show."

Bucky shook his head "No fucking way, he needs to keep his hands off of her." his arm went around her shoulder and pulled Rainbow closer to him.

She looked in his eyes, touching his cheek softly "They're right but it's ok, Jamie. I don't want to be separated from you but it's only a dance or two and I can take care of myself."

Bucky sighed then glared at Steve "I swear to god Steve, you hurt one hair on her head and I'll kill you in your sleep."

He helped Rainbow into the car and scooted in after her before Steve could get between them and sit next to her.

The drive was tense, the lighthearted vibe from earlier was gone thanks to Steve's insistence on being part of the group, without regard to the feelings of anyone else. Bucky had Rainbow pulled close to him while giving Steve his best Winter Soldier stare.

When they arrived the door was opened to the red carpet, shorter than your typical Hollywood event but enough to let fans and paparazzi get a look at the Avengers.

Of course Tony and Pepper went first with a positive reaction of applause and shouting.

Wanda and Vision were next with a similar reaction from the crowd and camera flashes popping everywhere.

Rainbow stepped out of the car and the crowd erupted. Applause, whistles, shouting and requests for autographs and selfies. She smiled nervously, never having expected so much love.

Bucky followed her and received a positive response, if a bit muted.

Steve stepped out of the car and the crowd went silent, all that could be heard was whispers and flashes. Then a smattering of boos and hisses sounded and Steve clenched his jaw before striding past everyone and into the library.

Tony shrugged and smirked at the crowd and led everyone inside to stop at the bar first.

After snacking on some appetizers to offset the alcohol she was drinking Rainbow wandered around the room, holding Bucky's arm and chatting with the people Tony introduced them to.

Then came some speeches about the money raised and the good work the libraries did. A couple of local celebrities performed and then the music started. Steve appeared out of nowhere to grab Rainbows arm and drag her to the dance floor. She started to pull back before she remembered what Tony said, united front- happy family, and tried to relax in his arms.

She was doing well until a short, curvy blonde in a strapless, glittery, red dress with a cut outs and a slit high up her thigh approached Bucky. Rainbow didn't recognize her face but there was something familiar about her. Bucky shook his head but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer so he finally gave in, emphasizing that he would only give her one dance.

When the song ended Rainbow and Bucky pulled away from their dance partners, practically running back into each others arms. They swayed to a slow song, staring into each others eyes like they were the only people in the world.

A more lively song started and Bucky pulled her into the simple swing dance moves making her sport a real smile. When he went to spin her the crowd seemed to move together to come between them and Rainbow ended up in Steve's arms. He worked to move them down a hallway towards the bathrooms where Rainbow saw something that made her chest ache.

The sultry blond in the red dress was kissing Bucky hard, hands in his hair pulling him closer to her. When Rainbow saw, a gasp left her mouth and the blonde woman barely pulled back from Bucky to quickly smirk at her before pulling Bucky back to kiss him again. Steve turned Rainbow before she could see Bucky pushing the woman away and wiping all traces of her from his lips while looking for her. Rainbow felt a pinch in her neck and everything went black.

Bucky looked around frantically for Rainbow but her, Steve and the blonde woman were nowhere in sight. He moved through the crowd in the direction Steve had been moving, through the hall past the bathrooms to the service entrance but they were gone.

Bucky raced back into the main room, searching for Wanda first in the hopes that her powers could help find Rainbow.

He grabbed Wanda's hand and pulled her to interrupt Tony and Peppers dance and blurted out

"She's gone! Natasha was here and helped Steve separate us and now they're all gone."

Chapter 9

[bigfan-fanfic]

Geralt and his bf cuddling up in kaer morhen. Just cuddling on a windowsill under some thick blankets enjoying the falling snow over the valley. (What a veiw that would be!) can you tell a little story with that setting perhaps?

The cold doesn't quite reach Geralt. The songs say the mutations turned all witcher blood to fire, but Geralt knows that cold affects him just fine, he simply has a higher tolerance to it because of mutations and the endless residual decoctions lurking in his system.

Perhaps the true reason for this warmth lies in his arms.

Geralt leans his head down, sniffs your hair, lets the scent wash through him. Ask anyone, he's not the poetic type, but ask him to describe the way you smell and he will find the most lyrical and most brief summary he can muster.

Maybe the answer is much more obvious and it's the heat of numerous blankets draped over yourself. Geralt would find it amusing - no, strike that, he does find it amusing. But along with that, it's just adorable. And he won't deny that the physical touch is glorious.

Geralt is a Witcher. And most people daren't deal with a Witcher, let alone touch him. But you - whether bravery or naivety or a need for connection greater than his - you fearlessly initiate and continue contact. Geralt had never cuddled before you. Bed sharing was usually transactional, and with Yen, let's be honest, if cuddling occurred, it was more Geralt holding her than her actively participating.

You seem to crave his touch. You hold his hand on your own, you wrap your arm around his waist and invite him to hold you round the shoulder. You cuddle into his chest as if it is a safe haven. You play with his hair, his nose, his lips, his chest, his arms. There is never fear on you - and though Witchers cannot smell emotion like people think, he can usually hear the elevated heartbeats, see the shortness of breath, the dilating pupils, the contraction of muscles as they tense - none of the signs of fear from you, ever. Not towards him.

Lambert would find it insulting, he chuckles to himself. Geralt finds it... enchanting. More than any sorceress' spell.

"Witchers can hear the snowfall, you know." He smirks. It's a game sometimes. He makes up some wild, outlandish 'witcher fact' and practically dares you to call his bluff. There's enough weird shit that IS true to often disguise well whatever he comes up with.

"Oh, really?" You grin, leaning back against him as the valley beneath Kaer Morhen is coated in snow like powdered sugar. In an hour or so, the clouds will drift and the whole valley will be obscured in fog. "What does it sound like?"

"Like biting an apple. Crunch, crunch, crunch."

"Ew." You respond, and Geralt can feel you cringe while imagining the unappealing noise. "That doesn't sound right."

"Snow is wet and crunchy. Ice crystals grinding together."

"Yes, but they land on top of each other, not crunch, don't they? It should be more like a tinkle or a wet thud."

Geralt laughs. "Ah, yes, I forgot. The Continent's expert in onomatopoeia is in my arms."

You turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You do know I studied at Oxenfurt? I taught a class or two at Oxenfurt - I know big words!"

"I believe you." You smile, craning your neck to kiss the underside of his jaw, and Geralt is immediately mollified. "You know what? Tell me about it."

Geralt chuckles. "It's not all that exciting."

"I like hearing your voice anyway."

"Alright then... this was way back, sometime in..."

And Geralt talks, you cuddle against him, and the snowtouched valley is slowly lost in fog. Safe. Happy.

Home.

[justicegundam82]

PF1: GRAVE HAG

Hello! Here's another of my attempts at retro-converting a 2E critter to 1E stats. After the Rust Hag, I surely couldn't pass up the Grave Hag, especially since I think Hags are kinda underrated and can be just as terrifying and versatile as vampires and liches when it comes to being evil masterminds.

Again I've tried to be as close as possible to the original version, though I had to drop a few special abilities in the process, since I was afraid they would have made the conversion overpowered. I'm still wondering if my conversion here might be a bit much... but I'll let you guys be the judges of that.

Hope you enjoy it!

GRAVE HAG

Image © Paizo Publishing. Accessed at Archives of Nethys here

This woman has a cadaverous appearence, with greying flesh, filthy black hair and bloody sores all over her body. Her nails are long, ragged claws, and her clothes are soiled with grave dirt.

GRAVE HAG CR 9

XP 6’400

CE Medium Monstrous Humanoid

Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +18

DEFENSE

AC 23 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +9 natural), touch 14, flat-footed 19

hp 104 (11d10+44)

Fort +8, Ref +10, Will +11; +4 vs. disease, fear and paralysis

Defensive Abilities negative healing

Damage Reduction 5 / cold iron; Immune energy drain, poison; Spell Resistance 20

ATTACK

Speed 30 ft.

Melee improvised weapon +17 / +12 / +7 (1d8+7) or 2 claws +17 (1d6+5 plus grab)

Ranged grave ray +15 touch (4d6)

Special Attacks curse of the grave, grave ray

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 12th, concentration +15)

1/day – cloudkill (DC 18)

3/day – animate dead, contagion (DC 18), enervation (DC 18), vampiric touch

At will – bleed (DC 14), cause fear (DC 15), command undead (DC 16), death knell (DC 15), speak with dead (DC 17)

STATISTICS

Str 20, Dex 17, Con 16, Int 19, Wis 18, Cha 17

Base Atk +12; CMB +17 (+21 grapple); CMD 30

Feats Catch Off-Guard (B), Dodge, Great Fortitude, Power Attack, Spell Focus (necromancy), Toughness, Undead Master

Skills Bluff +14, Climb +10, Craft (any one) +10, Heal +11, Intimidate +15, Knowledge (arcana) +14, Knowledge (religion) +16, Perception +18, Sense Motive +12, Spellcraft +12, Stealth +14, Survival +10

Languages Aklo, Common, Giant, Necril

Special Qualities undead mien

ECOLOGY

Environment any

Organization solitary or coven (3 hags of any type)

Treasure standard

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Curse of the Grave (Sup): Three times per day, a grave hag can put a curse on a creature, rendering it more enticing to the ravenous undead. A target can avoid this effect by making a successful Will save (DC 18). If the save is failed, the target starts drawing the undead’s attention, granting them a +4 bonus on Perception checks to notice the affected creature and on saving throws to resist spells that hide or disguise the affected creature from undead (such as hide from undead). Once an undead notices the affected creature, it feels compelled to kill and devour the affected creature, and gains a +2 profane bonus on attack rolls made against the affected creature and a +2 profane bonus on saving throws against the affected creature’s spells and special abilities. The undead also ignores any concealment less than total concealment that an affected creature has. A curse of the grave lasts for 24 hours or until removed with a successful remove curse, dispel magic, break enchantment or similar magic (against a casting level of 12). The save DC is Charisma-based.

Grave Ray (Sup): Once every 1d4+1 rounds, a grave hag can fire a black beam of bone-chilling negative energy to a maximum range of 60 feet. If the grave hag succeeds at a ranged touch attack, the beam inflicts 4d6 point of negative energy damage, which can be halved on a successful Fortitude save (DC 18). A grave ray can be used to heal undead creatures, or the grave hag herself, in this way. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Negative Healing (Sup): A grave hag is healed by negative energy and harmed by positive energy as if she were an undead creature.

Undead Mien (Ex): A grave hag counts as an undead creature for the purpose of spells, spell-like abilities or special abilities that detect undead. She also gains a +4 racial bonus on saving throws vs. disease, fear and paralysis effects.

Grave hags are a particularly powerful breed of hags with an affinity for undead and negative energy, who make their liars in cemetaries, mausoleums or other burial sites, where they surround themselves with undead servitors and form a kind of twisted mockery of a court. Unlike most hags, grave hags do not have the ability to alter their appearence into a more reassuring shape, and are forced to hide where few people would want to seek them out. However, grave hags are grieviously arrogant and self-centered, and believe that this kind of life is beneath them, so they spend most of their time concocting plans to expand their territory and set themselves up as petty rulers of undead-infested regions.

Even for the standards of hags, grave hags are extremely smug and self-important, seeing themselves as the most powerful, cunning and strongest of all hags, and demanding respect and unconditional obedience from any “lesser” kind of hag. They tend to mock other hags’ abilities that they don’t possess (such as the ability to alter self) as pointless parlor tricks who have no inherent use to them. The exception to this are night hags, whom are seen by grave hags as role models, and to whom a grave hag will gladly submit.

In combat, grave hags tend to hold back and harass opponents with spells and withering blasts of negative energy while their undead minions tear their victims apart. They often open up combat by casting cloudkill and then letting their minions, unaffected by the poison, have their way with the opposition. Grave hags can put a curse on their victims, making them more enticing for the undead to attack. However, if forced to hand-to-hand combat, a grave hag can give as good as she gets, often using digging tools like shovels or mattocks as improvised weapons with surprising skill.

A grave hag usually stands between 5 and 6 feet tall and weighs between 120 and 180 pounds. The bloody sores she naturally sports on her body can make her look crippled and weak, but are merely cosmetical and do not hinder the grave hag in any way other than giving her an unsightly appearence. When a grave hag joins a coven, the coven adds harm to its spell-like abilities and shares the grave hag’s negative healing ability, but a grave hag will rarely join a coven that doesn’t have either herself or a night hag as leader.

[d-criss-news]

Radio Play Revival S. 3, Ep. 4: The Enchanted Bluff by Willa Cather

Nebraska, 1909: Six friends enjoy the final night of their final summer together under the stars and the moon, in this coming-of-age tale about friendship, innocence, and adventure.​

Cast (in speaking order): NEIL PATRICK HARRIS as The Narrator ASHTON MUÑIZ as Otto Hassler COLEMAN HEMSATH as Percy Pound DARREN CRISS as Tip Smith AARON ALCARAZ as Arthur Adams YOUNG DYLAN as Fritz Hassler ​with SAM TSOUTSOUVAS, the voice of RPR

[thecreaturecodex]

Hesperid

Image © Paizo Publishing. Accessed at Archives of Nethys here

[I was not expecting Paizo to make a specific fey based on the Hesperides from Greek mythology instead of just making them nymphs, but I like it.]

Hesperid CR 9 LN Fey This humanoid woman has a radiant beauty, her hair and skin colors reminiscent of the light of a sunset. She has long pointed ears and no pupils, marking her fey nature.

The hesperids are fey creatures that guard areas of natural beauty in the mortal realm. They are tied to the setting sun, and their domains always include a good view of the sunset. Hesperids also guard other objects as well—treasures prized by the fey or druidic circles, or historical relics thought lost. These prizes are disguised as golden apples, often mixed with mere trash disguised the same way in order to thwart robbery. More powerful hesperids may guard magical artifacts. In order to defend their landscape and their treasures, hesperids will fight, using conjured sunlight like a druid wields a flame blade.

Because of their ties to the regular cycle of the planet’s orbit, hesperids have lawful minds. Other fey sometimes see them as stodgy, but also respect their reliability and even tempers. Hesperids get along well with most lawful outsiders, as well as bronze and gold dragons, and are stern opponents of forces of undeath. They recognize that darkness has its place in the cosmic order, but are most comfortable in bright lights.

Hesperid Boons and Banes (CL 13th, DC 23) The most likely boon a hesperid would give to a mortal would be a lesser treasure, typically exchanged for something more relevant to the fey, plus access to the hesperid’s healing magic. Still, some are charmed by mortal artistry, and give their blessings as patrons of the arts. Those who try to steal from a hesperid are sometimes cursed with permanent blindness.

Boon: The glow of the hesperid fills your heart. You gain a +1 sacred bonus to all saving throws, and a +4 competence bonus to all Craft and Perform checks. This bonus lasts for 1 week. Bane: You are permanently blinded. The blindness can be removed with remove blindness or a similar effect, but returns with the sunrise each day unless it is removed with a break enchantment, limited wish, wish or miracle

Hesperid        CR 9 XP 6,400 LN Medium fey Init +6; Senses low-light vision, Perception +23 Defense AC 23, touch 23, flat-footed 16(+6 Dex, +1 dodge, +6 deflection) hp 110 (13d6+65) Fort +8, Ref +14, Will +12 DR 10/cold iron Defensive Abilities unearthly grace; Weakness sunset dependent Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 60 ft. (good) Melee sunset ribbon +13/+8 touch (1d10+6 plus 1d6 fire) Ranged sunset ribbon +13 touch (1d10+6 plus 1d6 fire) Spell-like Abilities CL 13th, concentration +19 (+23 casting defensively) At will—daylight, veil (DC 22, self only) 3/day—cure critical wounds (DC 20), quickened glitterdust (DC 18), searing light Statistics Str 11, Dex 22, Con 19, Int 18, Wis 19, Cha 22 Base Atk +7; CMB +7; CMD 36 Feats Alertness, Combat Casting,Defensive Combat Training, Dodge, Quicken SLA (glitterdust),Toughness, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +21, Bluff +21, Climb +15, Diplomacy +21, Fly +25, Intimidate +18, Knowledge (geography, local, nature) +19, Knowledge (arcana, history) +16, Perception +23, Perform (any one) +21, Sense Motive +23, Stealth + 21 Languages Common, Sylvan, Utopian SQ golden apple Ecology Environment any coastal or hills Organization solitary or enclave (2-6) Treasure double standards Special Abilities Golden Apple (Su) As a standard action, a hesperid can transform any object of up to 10 cubic feet of material into a golden apple weighing 1 pound. This lasts until the hesperid dismisses the effect as a standard action or if the item has spent 24 hours outside of the hesperid’s bonded location. Sunset Dependent (Su) A hesperid is mystically bonded to a location that has a good view of the sunset under ideal conditions—cliffs, islands and valleys are common sites. A hesperid that leaves this area, or who is not outside when the sun sets in that area (even if she can’t see, or if weather hides the sun), takes 1d6 points of Constitution drain per day. A hesperid can bind to a new location with a 24 hour ritual. Sunset Ribbon (Su) A hesperid can conjure a ribbon of sunlight as a swift action, and dismiss it as a swift action. With this ribbon, she can make melee touch attacks as an attack action, or may snap it like a whip as a standard action to fire a ray up to 180 feet. Regardless of how the hesperid uses it to attack, the sunset ribbon deals 1d10 points of slashing damage modified by the hesperid’s Charisma modifier and 1d6 fire damage. Undead, or other creatures with negative energy affinity, take an additional 1d6 points of damage. Unearthly Grace (Su) A hesperid gains her Charisma modifier as a deflection bonus to AC and CMD.

[use-your-imagination98]

GH Couples Inspired By Taylor Swift Songs

Had this in my drafts for FOREVER. thought it was a good time to post it haha. 

Alan and Monica: The Last Great American Dynasty

And they said

"There goes the last great American dynasty"

"Who knows if she never showed up, what could've been"

Luke and Laura: My Tears Ricochet

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

Luke and Tracy: Better Man

I know

I’m probably better off all alone

Than needing a man who could

Change his mind at any given minute

Laura and Scotty: New Year’s Day

Please don't ever become a stranger

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Laura and Kevin: Lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Kevin and Lucy: Delicate

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

Frisco and Felicia: Closure

Yes, I'm doing better

I know that it's over, I don't need your

Closure

Mac and Felicia: Ours

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

Robert and Anna:  It's Nice to Have a Friend

Call my bluff, call you "babe"

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Anna and Valentin: Sparks Fly

My mind forgets to remind me, your a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be

Sonny and Brenda: The 1

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

Sonny and Carly: Haunted

​​You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

Sonny and Alexis: Blank Space

So hey, let's be friends

I'm dying to see how this one ends

Stone and Robin: Sad Beautiful Tragic

We had a beautiful magic love there

What a sad beautiful tragic love affair

Robin and Patrick: This Love

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead

Lucky and Elizabeth: Tolerate It

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Nikolas and Emily: Happiness

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you

Nikolas and Elizabeth: Dress

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They've got no idea about me and you

Ned and Alexis: Stay Stay Stay

You took the time to memorize me

My fears, my hopes and dreams

I just like hanging out with you

All the time

Alexis and Julian: Death By A Thousand Cuts

I get drunk but it's not enough

'Cause you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

LuLu and Dante: Wildest Dreams

Someday when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow you around

Sam and Jason: It’s Time To Go

15 years, 15 million tears

Begging 'til my knees bled

I gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all

Then wondered why I left

Sam and Dante: Cardigan

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Chase and Brook Lynn: Mastermind

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended up in the same room

At the same time

Spencer and Trina: Invisible String

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Cameron and Jossyln: Karma

Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant

You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

Elizabeth and Franco: Red

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

Maxie and Nathan: Enchanted

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

[captainofthetidesbreath]

I was going to make a Notes From The Underground joke, but then I realized I don't remember it well enough to get away with that. Anyway, this week's bingo has 36 items, and you can get your own card over here on BingoBaker and peruse all the possible squares below.

errand for Rashinna

scry ball check

Ashton admires Rashinna's hammer

invoke Liliana for access

Liliana bluff called

Weave Mind lore

Ruidus flare

deeper into Kreviris

back to portal / Lake Umamu

elsewhere on Exandria

initiative

no initiative

All-Minds-Burn seed discussed

Chet toy enchantment used

new NPC named

Gaz Tomo appearance

Ira appearance

Liliana appearance

Otohan appearance

Zhesh appearance

Allura mention

Caleb or Beau mention

Keyleth mention

Druicraft

Greater Restoration

Sending

Sending stone

Scrying

Teleport

Wild Shape

Insight check (on PC)

Insight check (on NPC)

Deception check

Persuasion check

Stealth check (individual)

Stealth check (group)

[classyfruit]

[INKTOBER '22 - DAY 20 - Bluff] "Magic is a fickle field. Manipulating currents in the web of possibilities is the most complicated thing. Spells have a high failure rate. Therefore, as a magician, it is best to be good at bluffing."

Let yourself be enchanted, pick a card, find her phone number on it. ❤️