#two entities so different they have to learn about one another each having their own quirks and traditions maybe they're enemies too👀

[imperial-agent]

enemies to lovers is out 🏃‍♂️❌👈 aliens to lovers is in 💗👽😊💕

[squash1]

something i’ve been thinking about a lot lately is the way that language in the dreamer trilogy & the raven cycle is a barrier to forming connection/community.

in the raven cycle we see a distinct lack of specific terms used between ronan and kavinsky. the word “dreamer” is not even used directly — instead the two of them talk conceptually about the dreaming process, about their respective “special places” (ronan’s being cabeswater), and how the dreaming “juice” runs out (but again, the terms “ley line” or “energy” are not used). there is a clear recognition of “sameness” or shared experiences between the boys, with kavinsky specifically saying he “knows what ronan is” (tho whether he’s referring to dreaming or ronan’s sexuality is up for debate i suppose).

this is really the first time ronan is connecting with a dreamer outside of his family. and his family, of course, has their own terms and language for dreaming. there is a barrier in the discussions ronan and kavinsky are having because of a lack of shared language. so much of what they experience as dreamers is isolated in the individual, so they are forced to talk around concepts because they don’t have universal terminology to fall back on.

i’ve talked extensively about how dreaming is a representation of chronic illness in the dreamer trilogy so i won’t go too far down that rabbit hole. But. something that is talked about within the disability/chronic illness community (and beyond) is the way that individuals can struggle to connect with people that have the same condition/similar experiences as them because of a lack of shared terminology to discuss abstract or hyper-specific concepts/feelings.

we see this in the raven cycle with kavinsky and ronan, and then we start to see it even more in the dreamer trilogy as ronan continues to find belonging and community with other dreamers. ronan and hennessy’s friendship requires them to bridge the language gap. though they both live as dreamers, because of their different experiences throughout their lives, they use different terminology to make meaning of their situation.

in knowing to one another, ronan and hennessy are exposing each other to new, shareable language. ronan shares his term for “nightwash,” and hennessy shares her term for “the lace.” both of them adapt to using this new language for a shared conceptual experience and in doing so are able to connect more fully with one another. in the raven king, i believe it is quite possible that ronan and adam had encountered the lace — a dark entity that whispered their worst fears to them — but did not have the term yet to describe it. obviously, terminology does not outweigh experience, but it is an important element of forming community through shared experience.

there’s also the way that the moderators use the term “zed” instead of “dreamer” — at first it is unclear what zeds even are because as the reader we have only ever had the language provided by ronan. in this experience of coming to realize that “zeds” are equivalent to “dreamers,” we as the reader experience the same sort of dissonance that dreamers themselves experience when trying to connect with one another without universal/shared language.

for ronan specifically, in both trc and tdt, there’s always an element of translation. in the dreaming world, his dreams speak in either latin or a dream language that doesn’t exist in the waking world. in his dreams ronan understands the dream language, but outside of them he can’t. ronan working so hard to learn latin is intentional — by understanding it in and outside of his dreams, he can bridge a language gap for himself; can understand his waking world AND his dreaming world at once. he studies it like his life depends on it because. it. does. the puzzle box is also helpful to ronan because it makes something that is unreal in the waking world, real — it is confirmation of the validity of that language. whether you’re thinking of dreaming as a metaphor for chronic illness, mental illness, or some other identity, the point is about the feeling of otherness, of inability. ronan only feels strange & lost & like he doesn’t know what the hell he is outside of his dreams where no one else understands his language. where he is confronted by being unable to speak to what he lives in his head.

in conclusion:

ronan lynch i love you.

[staytinyville]

Twin Flames

To: @flurrys-creativity

From: Your Secret Admirer! The moment I saw that HALAZIA was one of your favorite songs I just had to create this stroy from my original works. HALAZIA is my favorite song as well. It was the one that inspired the original novel in its entirety. So I wanted to make something within my universe. I do hope you love the world building. There is so much more I wish I could go over but one thing at a time!

↣ Summary: In a world where magic exists, you had creatures that were created in order to help those who were able to harness the power of the sun and the moon. Each creature has a special connection with their creators. Those created by Witches were followers of the moon. And those created by Faeries were with the sun. However for some creatures, they were connected to their creators on a much deeper meaning. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader

↣ Genre: Fluff, Angst

↣ AU/Trope info: Vampire!Seonghwa, Witch!Reader, Historical!au, Twin Flames!au

↣ Word Count: 6.6k

↣ Warnings: blood (It’s a vampire fic lol), revenge killing, murder (Nothing too extreme)

↣ A/N: If you guys were interested, this is actually based in my original novel. There was a lot of world building I really loved in this and the main story is based on modern time vampire/witch romance. In the book though, creatures don’t exist because they gave up their powers. This takes place way before the start of the actual book but it is a good start to the approach on why people were giving up their abilities. 

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @pirateeznet , @cultofdionysusnet , @wonderlandnet , @cromernet , @monsterfvckersunited

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You couldn’t remember a time when your family didn’t have their herbal shop. It was the shop that had been in your family for generations helping those who needed it. The long line of witches you came from hailed to be some of the best in the region. In your village the only two magical families were your own–and the Jung’s, who were faeries in their own respective rights. 

There wasn’t much of a difference in what your family and Jung’s practiced–in fact there was none at all. If one was to get them confused it wouldn’t be a problem. The only reason that made witches different from faeries was their souls. It was common knowledge that witches and faeries were split from the same soul. However, the thing that made them different was chaos and order. One was the calm that connected with the soothing light of the moon, while the other was the disorderly that played in the sun. 

In the village though, there was no harsh competition between the two families. Not when you knew that one of the Jung’s was connected to you on a cosmic level. He was your soulmate–the platonic kind. And your family saw nothing wrong with it so they practiced their own things on their own. You kept the middle Jung from trouble and he was the one who pushed you to go out of the norm. It was well balanced as the universe intended. 

Now with your family's shop, you were in charge of it when they were gone–seeing as you were going to be the one to continue the legacy. You would often help customers find what they needed, create spells that would heal wounds, flesh out spirits that were attached to another person, banish entities that meant harm to others. It was the everyday life of a witch–one you cared for dearly. 

It let you know that you still had the power of the moon behind you. You didn’t take them for granted. You didn’t overuse their gift or for personal reasons. Oftentimes you would turn to it when you needed guidance or help in learning something about yourself. It was the mother that had given you what you were. The reason you were a witch. 

“Have a good day!” You smiled, bowing your head at the kind elven woman who had come to ask for a healing jar. 

You handed her the glass, checking it over one last time to make sure the salve was sealed tightly and nothing spilled out. You allowed her hand to touch yours, closing your eyes and giving one last prayer to the moon to allow the salve to have the magical properties it needed. 

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” The woman beamed, bowing her head in thanks. 

You showed the woman out, waving your hand as she disappeared into the crowd. You turned to the other side of the road, hearing commotion as someone stopped at the small food stall that you often had food at. The owner was a mermaid, serving the best seafood dishes you could think of. While your village wasn’t that near water, there was still a large lake that had a lot of freshwater fish to enjoy. 

The commotion was between said owner and a larger than life man. Ogres weren’t that common as mermaids were because of their origins. While mermaids originated from Asia, ogres came from the northern region of Europe. In this time and age, it was common to find creatures all over the world but it was still likely you wouldn’t see them often. 

“We don't serve ogres here.” The owner sneered at the large man. 

“Please, I've been traveling so far.” The poor man sighed, trying to make himself look smaller. 

He glanced around at the patrons of the stall, taking note of all the looks he would get from them. Your shoulders dropped as you sighed deeply. Prejudice against certain creatures had always been around. Some got it more than others–if only because those who treated them poorly were scared of them. It hurt you inside to see how they treated each other. They were all created with the same magic. The magic that came from either the sun or the moon. 

“Go somewhere else.” The owner waved the ogre off, looking away from him angrily. “I don't need you taking up more space than needed.”

The ogre man didn’t argue, only bowed his head and turned to leave the stall. He glanced around for a moment once more, trying to find a place to eat. Without thinking, you went into your store and gathered some mushrooms and herbs that were edible. They were used for spells but that was only if you chose to work with them. In the end they were just normal herbs that could be used in food. 

Coming outside, you were lucky to find that the ogre didn’t go too far. So you rushed up to him, getting his attention as you held out your things for him to take. 

“Here you are.” You spoke softly, bowing your head. 

The man looked down at the things in his hand, glancing back up at you. Tears began to well in his eyes at how kind you were. It had been a long journey to reach the village for the man, and he was grateful that someone was willing to help him. He knew at that moment you were a witch, having the kind nature to help those in need. 

“Thank you.” He bowed deeply, holding the mushrooms close to his chest. 

And so you watched him continue on his way, shoulders dropping at the somber feeling that filled your chest. Things were changing when it came to the people who were on this earth. You didn’t know if it was for the better–or if it was for the worst. 

“Another family came to ask my parents if they could reverse their abilities.” Wooyoung explained to you as he leaned against the counter of your shop. 

You paused in your organizing for a moment before resuming what you were doing. It was few and far between that a new family had come to your or Wooyoung’s family shops to ask that they take away their abilities as creatures. It was them asking to reverse generations of DNA infused with one another. 

Creatures weren’t alway created with spells, they could be born as well. Once the spells became worldwide and other faeries and witches would cast them, it called for new species that would procreate more. It had been a long while since the last spell was casted that created a creature, so the ones who were there came from generational families. 

“They said there's hunters nearby.” Your friend added.

You felt a deep feeling within your stomach that clenched. Hunters were the humans who chose to willingly kill creatures. Humans were common like anyone else. However it became recent that they began to turn against the creatures.  

It had been a long while since creatures themselves began to turn against each other. The humans had begun this fear, causing everyone to notice other things about each other that usually called for peace. They started to become scared of each other because they would assume others had more power. It was starting to bring about a war that would cause all creatures to be wiped out. 

Whether from death because of another species or from them reversing their own abilities. 

“Why would they be here?” You sighed, turning to look at the boy. 

Everyone knew how close you and Wooyoung were. You couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t friends with the chaotic boy. You remembered the first time you had met him, back when you were both children learning to make friends in general. 

He was a bit too much for you, often getting too excited over things that made you give him a questioning look. But you were often paired with him because the other kids didn’t like to hang out with him because of his excited nature. He was too much to handle, but you always knew how to do that. 

Witches and faeries were soulmates, it was known. The universe had created them from the same soul so they were meant to be there for one another. And just like the universe planned, you were there with Wooyoung. You loved him as your other half–it was something the both of you could feel. But that didn’t mean you were lovers. 

While a large majority of the village thought you were, you knew the kind of preferences Wooyoung had and the kind you did. The love you had for each other was platonic. You were his person and he was yours. You knew if either one of you were in trouble the other wouldn’t be that far behind to save the day. 

“Maybe because our village is near the Park estate. I haven't seen them recently now that I think about it. Is it the hunters?” Wooyoung prattled off. 

“I wouldn't assume so.” You told him. 

The Park’s were considered like royalty in your town. It was known that they were one of the founding families, along with Wooyoung’s and some others. The Park’s however were the ones who knew a lot more about how to gather a community together. They were the ones who ran things and made sure to cater to the needs of its people. Mayors of sorts for the village. 

However as of recently, it has been known that the Park’s don’t come down from their castle on the hill. It’s been a few weeks since you had last seen any of them, which you did find to be odd but you didn’t question it because your parents told you not to. 

“They're probably up there staying young forever.” Wooyoung sighed wistfully. “That's why they stopped coming down.”

You frowned, glaring slightly at the boy for his statement. “They need to drink blood in order to do that.”

The Park’s were well known for being vampires. At least being known from what they tell other people. Vampires weren’t what the stories claimed them to be. They weren’t people who drank from people in order to feed. They were still human beings but with an ability that allowed them to drink blood. 

A vampire could eat food, get sick, and die like everyone else, it was when they would have a drop of blood that would heal them both from inside and out. They didn’t have sharp fangs that sprouted from their teeth or pale skin that was sensitive to the sun. What others found out later on after so many were created was that drinking blood continuously made a vampire strong and live longer. Essentially making them immortal. 

And once people found out just how powerful they could be with a simple drop of blood, greed easily took over the minds of the weak. 

“Maybe they come down at night.” Wooyoung continued the joke, a teasing smile on his face. 

“No one goes missing.” You rolled your eyes. “Wooyoung, they're not bloodsuckers.”

You finished what you had been doing with the herbs, moving along the counter to wait on the other side as you began to compile certain spell jars. Wooyoung turned around to face you, head placed in his arms that held him up.

“Wrong!” Wooyoung suddenly said. “They are! I hear the eldest son is 96. Can you imagine how wrinkly he'd be?” He giggled. 

The boy watched as your shoulders seemed to have straightened out at the mention of the Park son. He pursed his lips to keep from saying something, already knowing exactly how it was you felt about the boy. 

“Seonghwa is the same age as you and me.” You said, not making eye contact with him. “Mother delivered him. The Park's are not like those greedy vampires.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes with a huff. “You only say that because you're a witch. Have you even met him before?” He asked you, looking at you expectantly. 

“Once when I was a kid.” You smiled to yourself. “He was very kind.” 

You hadn’t grown up to be his friend–something you regret a lot. You could only remember it so well because of the way you had felt that day. You didn’t know what you barely a teenager body could possibly have been going through but you knew you had never felt that way with someone before. 

Years Before

You had been strolling through the village, making your rounds to scourge for herbs and the likes as you were on your way to find Wooyoung. You were passing by the wall that was stationed in front of the Park estate, frowning when you saw someone trying to walk along the top of it with their arms stretched out. 

You continued on your way slowly, not wanting to disturb them in case they lost focus. However, it seemed you didn’t need to because the moment you started walking again the boy fell over, scraping his knees on the ground. 

He hissed as he lifted his hands up to wipe them before sitting down on his bum to take a better look at his knee. The wall wasn’t that tall, probably reached your shoulders which meant you were able to see over it. So his fall wasn’t something that would majorly injure him. However since he fell wrong his knees did take a good hit on the dirt ground. 

You quietly gasped out when you saw his wound bubbling with blood, rushing over to check on him. “Are you okay?” You asked out of instinct, kneeling down to take a better look. 

The boy only looked at you with wide eyes, mouth closed shut as he watched you not even pay the proper attention to him. “I’m okay. I just scraped my knee.” He told you quietly. 

You finally looked up at him, feeling your shoulder tense up as you felt a blush settle over your face from his gaze. You tilted your head to the side though, frowning as your heart skipped a beat for a moment. At that moment, you also saw as he frowned as well moving to rub at his chest. 

Looking back down at his knee, you sat down your basket before rummaging through it to find what you needed. “I’ll heal your wounds.” You explained to him, taking your small knife to pick at the herbs you had. 

Before you placed anything on him, you handed him a small cloth telling him to wipe at the blood so you could do your work. He softly took the rag, giving you a smile before nodding his head. His fingers felt cold to the touch, but your skin still heated up. It reminded you of all the candles your family had around the shop. Like a comforting hug that surrounded you. You blushed, smiling back at him before going back to the basket. 

Your fingers moved idly over the herbs you knew are used to heal wounds. With only a select few that you had with you, you cut a piece of aloe vera and made sure to expose the gel inside. While you discarded the green part, you gathered a few sprigs of green tea leaves before turning to Seonghwa. 

He sat up straighter, having been caught staring as you went about your work. You giggled quietly, scooting closer to his leg and looking over it to make sure there was nothing dirty. When you saw he had cleaned up the excess blood, you carefully placed the cool gel pad of the aloe onto the scrape and rubbed it in with the leaves. 

“Hold this here, please.” You quietly told him. 

He listened, holding the aloe to his skin as your hands hovered over him. He watched you close your eyes and began to move your lips as hushed breaths came out. Your fingers messaged into his skin as a tingle seemed to flow throughout his muscles. His eyes went wide as he had realized that you were doing a spell on him, so he quickly turned to pay attention to what you were doing. 

Nothing came out from your fingers, in fact it didn’t even look like you were doing anything other than rubbing his knee. What he did feel though was a warming feeling that overtook his body. He was reminded of the times he spent watching the flames of a candle flicker back and forth as his nose breathed against it. 

He looked back at your face, smiling softly as you made him feel content. Before he knew it you were sitting back up and taking the aloe off his skin. “Oh you’re done.” He said, looking down at his knee. 

His eyes went wide again as he saw his skin had healed over and no more blood was coming out. The skin was pink though, a scar taking its place. Magic witches and faeries had was an amazing thing but not everything could be fixed completely. 

“Yeah.” You said. “The spell only makes the healing process go faster. Scars are still going to be there.”

Seonghwa looked over his knee, moving it back and forth. “That’s okay.” He grinned.

You both stood up from the ground, dusting yourselves off from the dirt. Just as he was about to ask for your name, someone had called for you. Looking around Seonghwa, you saw Wooyoung looking around for you with a frown on his face. 

“That’s my friend.” You told Seonghwa. “I have to get going.” You gave him a bow one last time, picking up your basket and skipping over to the faerie boy. 

As you walked away, you smiled sadly as you looked behind you one last time catching Seonghwa’s eyes. He gave you a smile, waving his hand. You laughed, waving back enthusiastically. When you turned around, you felt something flicker in your chest as a warmth spread throughout it. 

Present

“Sweet.” You added, remembering about the time you had met Seonghwa. 

“And he made me feel all warm inside as if I was standing next to a burning candle.” Wooyoung mocked in a high pitched voice. “As does every witch girl who comes across him. You aren't special.”

“I never said I was!” You sneered at him, throwing a bay leaf at him for mocking you. 

He began to let out a loud laugh that reminded you of a screech. But you couldn’t stand to tell him something about it. No matter how much he annoyed you and mocked you, you knew that you both loved each other too much. 

Wooyoung grew quiet for a moment, making you look over at him. He had a somber look on his face that made you worry a bit. Wooyoung had his moments where he was serious, especially if it had to do with his beliefs. But even then you still worried about his mental state in those times. Whether it was out of anger or sadness, you would always be able to tell when something was bothering him. 

“Do you think the hunters will come to our village next?” Wooyoung quietly asked. “What happens when they do?” He turned to look at you. 

You licked your lips, sighing to yourself. “I don't know, Woo.” You quietly said. 

That following night, your parents had left the shop in your care because they had something to attend to with the council. Wooyoung’s parents were also going to be out but they had placed their things in the care of Wooyoung’s older brother. The man himself was not going to keep the place from falling apart. 

You were getting things ready for closing when someone knocked on the door and you looked out towards the door. A tall man stood at the entrance, bowing his head when he noticed you turning around to face him. 

The candle light was too far from him for you to find out who exactly stood at the door, so you calmly raised your hand closer to some candles and whispered under your breath for protection just in case. 

However as he grew closer, your shoulders dropped and your fingers stopped their movements. You began to feel dizzy from the warm feeling surrounding you. You wanted to close your eyes and bask in its warmth but you had a customer to attend to. 

“I've come to speak to the head of this house.” He spoke, coming into view in the candle light. 

He was the tall and handsome type most people would fall for. The kind that makes people stop and stare from how regal he looked. It was only heightened with the kind of clothes he wore. They made him look taller, stronger with how much everything seemed to fit him. He called for attention, and he clearly had yours. 

“They're currently out of town.” You told the duke’s son. 

He finally had reached the counter, coming into light as the candle fully lit up his face. Park Seonghwa was someone who smiled at those in passing. The one who was kind to everyone because that was just the kind of person he was. 

To you though, he was the man who you dreamt of. The man who laid on a dying bed as your blood poured into his mouth to keep him alive. It wasn’t your memory–far from it. It was the memory of a witch who was losing her true love to some injury. The one who created the spell that would change the course of history for magic. 

But it was all in your head. Something you could never explain to others because they wouldn’t understand. Like how Wooyoung had made fun of you for thinking of Seonghwa in any way other than he was a nice guy. You knew others might not make fun of you, but it was something that you wanted to keep to yourself because it was special.  

“I see.” Seonghwa nodded his head.  

He looked at you, for a moment, eyes glancing over your face as he tried to deduce something. “Is it alright if I can ask you what creature you are?” He asked you.

You opened your mouth just a bit as your breath got caught in your throat. You smiled bashfully, looking down. “Of course.” You nodded, answering him.  

“I am a witch.” You explained. “My family owns the shop.”

He paused again, seemingly looking more confused as he scooted closer to the counter. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” He asked you.

Your eyebrows rose, as you took in his looks, seemingly sighing dreamily as you watched him. Your fingers began to tingle, causing you to flex them to relive the feelings. You could feel your blood rushing through your heart, and warming your body.

“I believe, so when we were children.” You answered. 

Seonghwa watched you, feeling his blood warm up as you looked at him. He could feel himself start to fall asleep from how everything seemed to make him feel. He could remember the one time he had last ever felt that way. The time a young woman had come to help him fix his scraped knee. 

He remembered it now, the time when someone had helped him and it made him feel like a little child who stood in front of a candle. And now, standing in front of you again, he felt that same feeling. The wick that was lit up, the heat that radiated from the small flame, the wax that would melt and he would dip his fingers into it. 

Not a day went by that he wouldn’t think about it. Think about the girl who had helped heal him with her magic. About the story his mother would tell him. The story of how vampires came to be. How they were the creatures who were created out of love. 

“Yes.” Seonghwa said, nodding to himself. “I remember now. You treated my knee scrape when I fell from the wall of the palace.” He began to smile bashfully. “Embarrassing for me really. Having a pretty girl clean my wound.”

“I'm sure someone else would have done the same.” You blushed. 

“Yes but none of them would have been a witch.” Seonghwa smiled at you.

You smiled softly at him, understanding that what you were feeling was not only yours. You didn’t know how far it was that he understood your connection–you didn’t even fully know if he truly did. But something about him knowing now that you were a witch made things change. 

There was so much you wanted to ask him. So much you wanted to speak about with him but you knew there were things he needed to get done. The night was young and Seonghwa must have important matters to attend to if he only came down from the estate this late at night. 

“I guess not.” You spoke softly. 

“I guess I'll come by another day then.” He whispered to you, not tearing his eyes away. 

You smiled at him nodding your head. Before he got the chance to turn around and walk away you called out to him. “If you need help with anything, please don't be afraid to ask me.” You told him.

He gave you a dazzling smile, lips pulling over his teeth. “Of course, little witch.”

You felt your heart stop for just a split second. The endearing nickname felt like a stab to your chest. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made your blood warm up even more. A blush overtook your cheeks. But still you gave him a nod and a wave of your hand. You watched as he left with a small smile on his lips. 

**

You didn’t know how long it was that you saw him again. But it was a sad day for the village. You read over the article with the news about the death of the Park family. At least the parents. 

You hadn’t seen Seonghwa since he last came in looking for your parents. It made you sad, not knowing what he must have been going through. It was even worse when you didn’t know how to fix things. 

“They said it was a hunter.” Wooyoung spoke, looking over the paper. “Now with both of them gone it only leaves Seonghwa in charge of the estate. I wonder why they didn't just take blood.” The boy sighed. 

“Wooyoung, not everything is like a story book.” You told him, not looking at him. 

You didn’t know how to tell him. How to explain what it was you felt for Seonghwa. Honestly, you didn’t even fully understand it yet. It was every witches dream to find the person they were destined for, but you knew there were a select few who were able to. 

Twin flames were hard to come by, only one in every century. To get this kind of chance was something no one wanted to just pass by. But for you, it was hard. Times were changing for the worse. At least for the creatures who roamed the earth. And yet you still wanted to deny it.

“They are not creatures who guzzle blood like it's their dinner.” You defended. 

“But somehow they were the reason this war against creatures started.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“You can't blame them for everything.” You looked up at him, eyebrows pulled together. “Only the greedy ones deserve death.” You added.

“(Y/N), get out of your head.” Wooyoung exclaimed. “Vampires are the reason hunters came to be. The reason all the creatures turned against each other and started to go into hiding. The reason we can't practice our magic anymore!” He was breathing hard, trying his best to keep from crying.

You sucked in breath, wanting to calm your racing heart. “Don't make a fool of yourself, Wooyoung. We still practice it.” You denied him. 

“Really?” He asked. “Then what was the last spell your parents taught you?”

It was a healing spell. Back when you were a little girl. They never really taught you anything outside of the everyday needs. Healing, protections, warding, divination–all the things anyone needed in their lives. Wooyoung was right, though. They never taught you the big kinds of spells. The ones that connected you to the other worldly beings or fixed a mistake in your life that ended up in major failure. 

You were just the girl who worked in the shop and made simple spells and read simple futures with cards. You couldn’t save a person’s life from the brink of death. Couldn’t make a mother find what she needed in order to have a child. Didn’t know how to help a child who couldn’t hear or see. Those were the spells your parents knew because their own families had taught them. 

Wooyoung took your silence as an answer. His lips trembled as he became angry with how you were denying the truth. How you didn’t want to come to terms that the world was not happy with the magic users that were meant to care for it. 

“They stopped because they know everyone is reversing their abilities.” Wooyoung sniffled. “Even the Park's! They came to my family to take away their powers—”

“Am I interrupting?” Someone asked. 

Both you and the faerie boy turned, coming face to face with Seonghwa. You pressed your lips together, feeling your blood warm up from standing so close to him. 

“Not at all.” You spoke up. “Wooyoung was just leaving.” 

You watched the boy give you a look, disappointed in what you decided to choose. Your shoulders dropped at the way he looked at you. It hurt to watch him walk away from you in a haste to get away.

No matter what, Wooyoung was always going to be your person. Even if you kind were the ones who created vampires out of love, the universe was the one who created faeries and witches from the same soul. No creature was going to get in the way of that. 

You turned back to Seonghwa, feeling your chest burn from both hurt and familiarity. You walked around the counter, stepping to stand in front of him. “I'm sorry about your mother.” You told him.

“I am too.” He gave you a soft smile. “Little witch, do you treasure who you are?” He asked you.

Your lips opened and closed for a moment before you looked down to avoid his gaze. You felt your heart ache thinking about how he must have overheard Wooyoung telling you about the Park’s going to his family to take away their vampiric abilities. His question did catch you off guard. But the moment you understood his words, you knew what it was you wanted to say. 

People grew up to be the person they were meant to be for a reason. Being a human, witch, faerie, vampire–whatever–was what made them just that. You couldn’t go on without knowing who it was you were or wanted to be. Being a witch was a part of you just as being a vampire was for Seonghwa. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to give up a part of you. Especially because you knew it was the reason you were at risk of being killed at the hands of others who didn’t understand the kind of person you were. 

“More than anything in the world.” You answered him. “It's what makes me the person I am.”

“And if you had to give it up?” Seonghwa’s lips trembled, his breath turning shallow as he grew closer to you. “To let others know that you mean them no harm?”

You were never going to be able to know how Wooyoung dealt with his struggles. How Seonghwa dealt with his or how other creatures did. But you knew that being a witch was part of you and losing that would be one of the most painful experiences you could ever know. 

“I wouldn't know what to do with myself.” You whispered. “That would be taking away a part of me–a part of my soul.”

Seonghwa sucked in a breath hearing your words. You felt his hands brush against your own, your breath hitching as you suddenly saw a vision pass behind your eyes. It was like those dreams you had. You saw those bloody hands clasped together–watched as two candles flickered together in sync with one another. And like always, the moonlight shined down on those two lovers huddled together. 

When the images passed you found yourself staring right into Seonghwa’s eyes. You were close enough to watch as his pupils grew as they watched you. You could almost feel his warmth seeping into your skin. 

“And if your soul was connected to someone else's?” He whispered. 

“Wouldn't that make them my soulmate?” You questioned back.

“No, not your soulmate.” Seonghwa shook his head. “That would mean that person was your other half.” He explained, his hand finally taking yours in his. “The half that was torn from you.”

His fingers pried yours open, closing around your palm as he clasped your hand. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you glanced down at his lips, but you quickly looked up the moment he stepped closer, chest brushing against yours.  

“I mean in a way that your soul mirrors another.”

Twin flames were what they called witches and vampires. They were called that because when a witch created the first ever vampire, the way they had cured their lover was by connecting their souls together. They prayed to the moon and called upon its magic to save the one thing that they had loved more than even their own life. 

And when the moon answered, the witch lit two candles that were the bridge between their lover’s dying soul and their living one. When they fed their lover blood, it was meant to be the essence of life bringing them back from the river that would take them to the underworld. In doing so, the witches' life became one with their lover. This created their souls to be connected to one another. 

“Then we'd walk side by side.” You swallowed. “Magic or not, our souls will always be the same.” You told him. 

You watched how his Adam's apple moved, his throat feeling like it was closing in as he took in your words. His lip trembled, breathing turning harsh as he tried to keep from having tears fall. 

“Are you alright, Seonghwa?” You asked, growing worried as you took in his state. 

“I just wanted to check on something.” He whispered so quietly. “I had to make sure I wasn't wrong.”

Your lips slowly turned downward as you realized what he was talking about. The moment Seonghwa saw your facial expression take a turn, he leaned closer, forehead touching yours as he was a breath away from touching your lips.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” You asked, lips brushing against his.

“More than I could ever ask for.” He then pressed his lips against yours. 

Your breath got caught in your throat once more, body leaning back as he fully pushed himself into you. You didn’t waste time to kiss him back with as much vigor. You could feel something within you swell. You could feel Seonghwa’s heartbeat against his chest. Tears pooled in your eyes as you knew it was beating in sync with yours. 

You felt his tears falling down his cheek, touching your own and causing them to get wet. But you didn’t care. All that filled your head was the way his lips felt touching yours–the way his body reacted with your own. Everything was moving together, like it was one person who was in charge. 

Everything felt right. Like you were meant to be in that moment with him. And the moon–you could feel it on your skin. You could feel it seeping through the windows and onto the both of you. It was watching you–knowing what it had been doing when it brought you together. 

You began to feel Seonghwa move the tip of his tongue onto your lips. When you opened your mouth just a bit more, you felt his teeth scrape your bottom lip. You didn’t know what had gone wrong, but suddenly you felt a nick on your skin, causing you to pull back quickly with a gasp.

You licked at your lip, feeling liquid touch your tongue. You furrowed your eyebrows when you felt that it didn’t hurt. In fact, you could even feel the sting when Seonghwa had caused the wound. The only reason you had was because you felt him bite you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He pulled back, licking off the blood that had been left on his lips.

“It’s alright.” You shook your head, trying to wipe away the dribbles. “Nothing I can’t fix.” You smiled at him.

Seonghwa stepped forward again, moving a hand to your cheek as his thumb brushed to wipe away the blood. He leaned down again, giving you one last chaste kiss to avoid hurting you further. 

“Forgive me, my little witch.” He whispered to you.

And then he was gone.

**

You watched, along with the rest of the village, as people tried to clean up the bodies of humans who were torn apart and left in the town square to rot. Many tried to shield their eyes, keep children from looking at the disfigured humans. 

They were hunters. Everyone could tell from the weapons that laid at their sides. Weapons that could easily kill anyone if you used them right. But you knew they were used against creatures. Creatures who had turned themselves humans but still were ultimately killed.

Wooyoung was at your side, making faces and gagging as the morticians tried to clean up the severed body parts. There were only certain things that had the strength to do that to the body. And as far as you knew, they had reversed their ability days before the death of his parents.

“I thought you said the Park’s came to reverse their powers.” You mumbled emotionless.

“Not Seonghwa.” Wooyoung answered you.

He turned to look at you, seeing how your face remained emotionless. “Still don't want to believe me?” He asked. 

There was only so much pain someone could take before reaching the breaking point. Finding out that the one person who was meant to be a mirrored soul to your own after being told that you were no longer going to be the person you were meant to be was heart wrenching. Watching as your family lost something that belonged to not only their mind but their soul as you chose not to go through with it. Then you truly find the person who was meant to be your one true love.

Only to remember that one day they too were going to have to give up what they were. Even worse for someone who was a witch. To have to grow old as they lost their connection with the moon. That was far worse than losing some silly ability to drink blood. 

It only led them to want to fight for what was meant to be right. But was it in the end if power only caused war against one another? Maybe giving up those kinds of things was for the best. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t going to be people who fought for their life.

“Not at all.”

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst, @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki , @emtrades22 , @tinyelfperson , @0rangemilk , @jaerisdiction , @wooyoungqueen

[regular-gnome]

I adore your Archivists and the lore you make for them and their personalities and relationships between each other and Collector! You don't paint them as Good but misunderstood or cartoonishly evil.

They are god-like entities and their morality system and values are way to different for mortals to easily relate and understand. And good luck for them to not grow up with an issue or two and then proceed to raise a young collector with no problems =3

Also a question if you don't mind👉👈(sorry if you already answered it, my memory is bad TT) So all five of them are collectors(and they are the only ones of their kind), the siblings have a different name for their group why? And our Collector's name is the same as species or will he have something his own later like others when he is older?

The empty, uncaring void filled with extinction and destruction is not a place where kids grow happily without any lasting issues and from a mortal point of view - a weird perception of good but they are trying

I don't think anyone has asked about this one yet! Their names are related to their identity and that connects to their history; they don't really use individual ones, but rather what describes who they are.

I've put the reasoning and my stab at the lore under the cut since I thought it might be a bit long and not everyone into it (and I just figured out how to add the read more cut so im gonna use it)

They are not the only ones in existence; they are just in this part of the galaxy we see. In the beginning, when the universe wasn't as expanded, the Children of the Stars were closer to each other, exploring the young galaxy together and living among other living creatures - mortals.

After the extinction event that left the children alone on the barren world, they decided not to let it ever happen again. They began collecting life from the surroundings and spread it to uninhabited systems, later establishing the first archive to help with it. Thats when they started call each others collectors, and after creating archive those collectors connected to it that cared for and used it were archivists. It didn't go fantastic, they were young figuring things out on the way, the lessons they learned got contained in the Guidebook everyone took. At this point, they also realized that everything they were doing was not enough. The galaxy was too vast, with too many worlds facing their ends too far apart. They separated making own archives, now too far away to ever really meet and find each other.

On how it realates to names. Collie is a kid, they are a collector so The Collector, they live around the archive but it's not their responsibility at this point -it's The Archivists. As Collector grows up and becomes an Archivist they can take a specific set of tasks and be associated with them taking on a title. However, this also means that titles can change.

The first sibling in the story, after establishing their archive, was just named The Archivist. When another collector grew up to help, they divided roles, with Curator handling organization inside the archive and Naturalist handling "ground work". Later, the tasks of the Naturalists were divided, now becoming Anatomist and dealing with the living environment and Architects handling the unliving aspects . Following Archivist became The Wayfarer, responsible for keeping track of every collected place and noting any changes they undergo. They scout out planets that are to be added to the archive.

I'm not certain what Collie would want to do in the future. I think they might be inclined towards tasks related to being around mortals as they are pretty social, so they could probably take on some responsibilities from Anatomist and Wayfarer. But, I can't say for sure what title they might take

And here's a fun little aspect: the universe didn't stop expanding. The places their archive reaches keep getting further away and more advanced systems, so planets that are more than basic fauna and flora are more prone to collapsing. At some point, probably when Collie is an Archivist, the archive might have to split, and the names will shift again

[theresattrpgforthat]

TTRPGs that are played specifically through the framework of the Discord app? I'm reviewing a work in progress game that's being set up to work like that and I wanted to know if there are others!

THEME: Discord RPGS

Hello there friend, I know you mentioned This Discord Has Ghosts In It in another ask, but I’m going to mention it anyways - along with some other awesome options that exist out there!

This Discord Has Ghosts In It, by Will Jobst.

You’ve been invited to a haunted house. That haunted house is a Discord server.

Find your greatest fear, spill your worst secrets, and get to the thrilling seance in This Discord Has Ghosts in It.

I played this game for Halloween one year and it was great! In this game there are two roles: investigators and ghosts. All of the players will hang out in a voice chat, but only investigators can speak. Meanwhile, ghosts are the only ones who can type inside the game channels - and they are allowed to add new rooms to the house, upload pictures, and alter the text.

I definitely encourage players to use Lines, Veils, and the X card for this game, as it’s a horror game and you’re often met with images, not just descriptions.

MUDSLURP, by Will Uhl.

MUDSLURP (Multi-User Discord Server Lore-Universe Role Play) is a roleplaying game about asynchronous communication, intersecting storylines, and carrying a piece of your characters with you in everyday life. Everyone involved controls at least one character and participates in a shared text chatroom integrated into a fictional setting.

MUDSLURP is also compatible with other tabletop RPGs - bring a new dimension to your story with a chatroom for all your characters! Host server events, build out the world, and learn more about each other. MUDSLURP even supports multiple tabletop campaigns sharing the same chatroom, including guidelines for avoiding & resolving canon disputes.

This is something that really intrigues me, as I run a Discord server myself and I’m always looking for options that incorporate more people and give people multiple ways to interact. Since this is compatible with other tabletop games, I’m assuming you can have real-time sessions alongside something more like a play-by-post format - although I haven’t bought the game yet so I can’t say for sure.

Tournament Arc, by SystemxEmotion.

Tournament Arc is a text-based, real-time, head-to-head, fighting roleplaying game. Most importantly, Tournament Arc is a game where you create any character you can think of (or steal from your favourite media), and fight your friends.

When you play Tournament Arc, you will create a powerful fighter and you’ll try and beat other fighters in arena combat. Fighters can be anything you can fathom, from talented martial artists to alien creatures from other dimensions, and from off-duty superheroes to ordinary people granted arcane powers by elder beings. The one thing that they all have in common is that their powers come from spirits. Spirits are strange entities that recently appeared in the world, and are as diverse as the fighters themselves. 

As a text-based game, Tournament Arc depends on a third, neutral party for each battle. This third player is called the Conduit, who will judge both attacks and determine an outcome. I can see this being a great game for large groups, especially because each person gets to pick up the GM role at some point. You create move sets using different abilities that might be active or passive, and the book comes with advice on how to make the combat dynamic and interesting. If you are playing with a group that likes feeling powerful and enjoys big action scenes, this might be the game for you!

Eccentric Millionaire, by nickwedig.

Somewhere in the wilderness, an eccentric millionaire has buried $50 million worth of bearer bonds, gold, historic artifacts and art treasures. 

You’re going to hunt for it, from the comfort of your own homes. 

There are a lot of other people also searching for the treasure, too. Work with them for more clues, but don’t trust them. If they get the treasure first, they get millions of dollars. Second place gets nothing.

Eccentric Millionaire is an online game of logical deduction and social deception. One player acts as the host and organizer of the game. They will also play the role of the Eccentric Millionaire. The other players take on the role of treasure hunters. The game is played online, through chat systems like Discord or Slack, and via online map tools like Google Maps. Gameplay takes place over days or weeks, as the treasure hunters uncover more clues and zero in on the location of the treasure. Eventually, one player will find the treasure and win the game.

I love games that use innovative online tools, and this game's use of Google Maps is a great example. This is also great for large groups, of up to 25 people! I caution you though, the organization for a game like this definitely requires a lot of set up - you might have to customize a Discord Server before you are ready to play.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games

[whitexwolfxx310]

Taking Control Over The Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Learning the news that you no longer have to stay at The Compound, Bucky makes a scary but enticing offer.

Warnings: 18+ for this post, dominance kink, life decisions, argument with parents, Y/N, sexual content, cursing, cockwarming, fluff, angst.

Word Count: 3688

Gif: Credit goes to magnusedom

Notes: Yes, a part of this was requested!

Tag List: @peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza

Previous Part

Masterlist

You have been living out all of your daydreams with Bucky recently. Ever since spending that one night together, he has become more visibly relaxed. It doesn’t look like he’s .5 seconds away from giving himself a brain aneurysm. Well, most of the time at least. While you each have your own apartment, neither of you have slept alone in weeks. That also means Bucky no longer sleeps on the cold floor. He struggles sometimes, becoming antsy as he tries to get comfortable. It’s as if the more relaxed he strives to be, the more restless he becomes.

There have been many fulfilled late nights and some of the best ways to start the day; with each other. Reaching that new level of comfort with one another really took your relationship to the next level. It’s at the point where you’re still learning about one another but passed the awkward stage where it’s uncomfortable to show who you really are. Speaking of learning more about each other, it’s not just the history or experiences you both have had. (Although, the focus tends to be on yourself or Bucky’s young adult life before getting drafted into the Army.) It’s the exploring. Being completely exposed, vulnerable, and getting to know every inch of each others body’s. What he likes and dislikes, what drives him to the edge and vice versa for yourself.

Bucky is always eager to please and even more so to learn. Sex and intimacy have come a looong way over the decades. Positions, toys, enhancements (not that either of you need them, but they’re still fun), and not just restricting yourselves to the bed. Good thing that The Compound is sound proof. Everyone around seems to have an idea of what’s going on behind closed doors, but they don’t need to hear it. So far, Bucky has shown the most interest in exploring different surfaces (the shower and couch seem to be his favorite) and also asserting some kind of a dominant role.

It makes sense because of how compliant he had to be for so many years. Feeling constantly controlled, it would be only human to be intrigued by the other side of things. He’s still always sweet, sometimes almost too gentle. We’ll work on that.

There are two ways of looking at this; One: Bucky is still experimenting. He’s trying to find balance between his pleasure and yours. Two: He’s afraid of going too far and hurting you. While you can appreciate his care and concern for your well being, there’s this dark entity inside begging for a cool metal hand necklace.

*Ding* Your attention gets drawn to the New Email notification on your phone. Sitting down at the island in his kitchen, wearing one of Bucky’s t-shirts and a pair of lace cheeky panties, you bring one knee up to hug it as you unlock your phone. Bucky’s on the other side of the island, cleaning. Always fucking cleaning. You open the email.

“Dear Y/N,

The Compound has been deemed safe once again. We are no longer concerned about a possible breach. You are able to return to your normal work schedule and are free to go home at your leisure. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call my extension (3000).

Thank you,

Pepper Potts”

Leave? You have been so caught up in the whirlwind that is Bucky Barnes that it was completely forgotten that The Compound wasn’t your home. It feels as though this perfect timespan has completely crumbled unexpectedly underneath your feet.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, staring intently at you from the stove worried.

“I- I was told I could go home.” You say, sorrowfully.

“Hold on. What?” He responds, needing to hear you say it again as if he doesn’t believe you.

“They cleared the possible breach… I don’t have to stay here anymore.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word but it is very obvious that the wheels are turning in his head, trying to think of a way around this.

“We knew this day was coming though, right?” You say, trying to lighten the mood. But its clear that this news has disheartened you both.

Within the blink of an eye he had taken a few long strides, standing now to your side. His metal arm reaches across your lap to grip the chair, quickly turning the chair so that you’re face to face.

“Don’t go…” He begs softly unable to look you in the eyes.

“I…w-what do you mean, Bucky?” You’re genuinely confused as to what he’s trying to imply.

“Stay.” It comes out as a heavy breath. “Here… with me.” He’s finally able to look you in the eyes, and he seems… distressed? Scared? Worried that if you leave his sight that you’ll somehow never come back?

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Sitting there stunned, holding your breath, you wait for his answer. Either way you’re terrified. Because either one, he literally just asked you to move in. Or two, you completely misinterpreted what he was saying and you’re about to feel like the worlds biggest idiot.

“I know it’s crazy…” Bucky starts, trying hard to think before he speaks in fear of coming off as too much and scaring you away. “And at the risk of sounding utterly selfish in saying this, I don’t feel as though my every move is being microscopically analyzed when you’re with me. I’ve gained trust back with you. I-I’m infatuated with you. Y/N.” His jaw is clenched, the vein in his temple looks as though it’s about to combust from his admission.

Infatuated? What do I even say to that? Your mind starts racing. Flashes of your possible life with Bucky start taking over your mind. Living together and waking up to those perfect pancakes he makes every morning. How instantly protective he is of you whenever you’re in public. The most passionate and intense sex that some people only dream about having. Slow dancing to the record player in the living room every night. Him wearing an all black suit, feeling comfortable with no gloves waiting for you at the end of the isle. What kind of dad would he be? Does he even want those things?

All of his focus is on waiting for your answer. His breathing drawn out as he tries to control it to not seem as nervous as he feels. A part of you wants to only dip your toe in the water, to take things slow because this can be a tough life when you’re so attached from the feelings involved. The other part of you wants to just dive right in. You want to live together? Yes. You want to get married and start a family? Yes. You’re talking about a future that surrounds each other? Yes, yes, and yes. The thought is terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. But the difficult journey could lead to an amazing destination. There’s no way to find out unless you try.

“That’s a really big decision, Bucky…” You start, and his head instantly falls forward in disappointment. “But…” His head picks back up, your gaze meeting each others. “Let’s try.”

His eyes widen in excitement. “Really?!” I’ve never seen him this animated about anything before.

“Really.” Your eyebrows raise as your lips curve upwards into a beaming smile at not just the possibility, but the reality of this happening.

“Ugh, Y/N. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any happier. You always surprise me!” Bucky quickly snatches you from the high counter chair at the island. The giggles effortlessly flow out as he picks you up and spins you around once. Placing your feet firmly back on the ground, he cups the left side of your face with right hand.

“You do realize this means that your place probably won’t be spotless anymore, right?”

“Our place” He corrects, mirroring the giant cheesy smile. “Worth it.” He says, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. "Get ready, let's go and get your stuff."

Sitting in the passenger seat, you look over at Bucky. It's one of those moments where you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. This is a moment you'll remember for a lifetime. He has dark sunglasses on, concentrating on the mostly empty road. With being tall, he props his left knee underneath the steering wheel, using it to maintain the car straight. His right hand reached over, resting on your knee and giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb rubs smoothly over it. The golden hue from the fall foliage makes his outline glow, as if he were an angel.

How is this even real life?

Coming back into the current moment, you recognize the song on the radio. Bucky actually let you control the music for once. Which is probably something he is going to regret.

"I love this song!" You exclaim, turning the volume up. But of course not too high for the old man.

"She's the one, she'll always be there She took my hand and I made it, I swear Because I fell in love with the girl at the rock show She said, "What?", and I told her that I didn't know She's so cool, gonna sneak in through her window Everything's better when she's around I can't wait 'til her parents go out of town I fell in love with the girl at the rock show!"

You stop, realizing that Bucky is looking over at you and not the road anymore. "You doing that staring thing again." You laugh. "What?!" You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious from singing.

He smiles, shaking his head. "I just enjoy being around you." It's the simplicity of being yourself that he admires most. Every move isn't articulated or pre-planned. There is no immediate danger. Life can be uncomplicated when you're free to be yourself.

The thought of just being with each other makes you feel warm inside. Who would of figured that you two would be the ones leaning on each other?

The rest of the car ride was pretty quiet. No particular reason, just relishing in the cool autumn weather for the duration of the drive.

Soon enough you're on the dirt road leading up to your parents house. Getting closer, you notice that both cars are parked in front, meaning both of them were home. Bucky parks and looks over at you, seeing what your reaction is going to be. You squeeze his hand that is still on your knee and smile. "Just give me a moment to grab some things, okay?" You say, still holding his hand for reassurance.

"Okay." He reluctantly let's go of your knee as you get out of the car.

Walking up to the front door, you know the conversation that is about to be had. Your jaw clenches in anxiety as you enter the house.

"Oh hey, sweetie!" Mom says, pausing from dusting the pictures on the mantel. "We were wondering when you would be coming home!"

"About that..." You start, taking a deep breath as your hands ball up into fists from being nervous. "I've decided to stay at The Compound. I just came here for my things." It gets blurted out.

"Oh?" Mom replies, waiting to see if there is more of an explanation than you've provided.

"Why is that?" Dad asks from the hallway, leaning on the frame. His sudden appearance makes you jump, not knowing he was right there. The ball of nerves inside of you doesn't necessarily help the situation either.

"We all knew my staying here was temporary..." You say truthfully, but it still comes out like an excuse.

"So...it's in relation to your job then?" His eyebrows raise. You were taught better than to lie, especially to him. And even if you tried, he would know.

"Kind of." Your response is dancing around the whole truth. "I don't have a lot of time." You say as you briskly walk into your room. It won't be hard to pack since you have been living out of suitcases since you came home from college. Not taking the time to fold your clothes, you shove them all into the collection of duffle bags and luggage.

"I'm confused..." Mom says as she walks into the room.

"There isn't anything to be confused about." Not being able to look at her, you continue to pack your bags rapidly.

"You don't see what's happening here?" Dad directs the question towards mom and then quickly answers for her. "This is about James."

"James?" Still confused, she looks between you and your father.

An exacerbated sigh comes from your mouth as you angerly slam a shirt down into your bag, now glaring at your father.

"So what if it is?" You challenge.

"You know how I feel about him..." Dad keeps a level, monotoned voice as if you were negotiating over a hostage situation. He takes a step forward but you hold your ground.

"And you know how I feel about him, Dad! This is the first time I have felt happy in the year and a half since Luke died!"

Mom stands in the room, looking between the two of you anxiously. Dad sighs, evidently starting to get more annoyed at the thought of you and Bucky together. "Why can't I have this, Dad?" You ask, feeling defeated. "We took a loss as a family, together. We got through it, together. But this is something that I want and I feel as though Luke would be happy for me!"

There's suddenly a knock at the door. Closing your eyes in frustration, you already know who it is. Your head rolls forward and you slip passed your parents and open the door to no other than Bucky. He only takes one step into the doorway, just enough for the screen door to close behind him. He clears his throat, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sir." He acknowledges your father only to be met with an intense stare. Well if they're going to have a staring contest, sorry dad but you're going to lose.

“James.” He sternly acknowledges.

Bucky turns to you, leaning in close as his hand gently holds your elbow. “Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. You nod your head looking over at your dad knowing that it’s just an amount of time before one or both of them explode.

“This is a family matter, Barnes.” Heeeere we go.

The scary thing about Bucky is that when he’s mad, he gets quiet. There’s no temper tantrums, no yelling, and no low blows. Thanks to Hydra, he’s an expert at not reacting when under immense pressure. While the circumstances are different, he’s on the defense. Your defense.

“I understand. I just wanted to make sure Y/N’s okay.” Bucky says in the same monotoned voice that your father just used on you a few moments before. “I’m not trying to interject here-“

“So then why are you?” Dad spits, growing angrier by the moment. Bucky standing here might just put him over the edge.

You quickly step between both of them bringing their focus to you. “Enough.” You say blatantly. “Dad… mom.” You take in a deep breath. “This is what I want. He is what I want. If you reject him than you’re rejecting me.”

The two stubborn men in the room are watching each other intently while trying to lay down the unspoken claim of who you actually belong to.

“I’m grabbing my things and we’re leaving. I understand that this might be a lot to take in at once, so I’ll give you time to process. You know how to get in contact with me. I love you guys.”

Reaching down to the floor, you pick up two of your bags. Bucky reaches down as well, slipping his gloved metal arm through all of the handles and picking up the rest of the stuff. He looks like me when I’ve gone grocery shopping and only want to make one trip from the car. And effortlessly of course. He holds the door open for you to walk outside, and follows right behind.

In silence you both pack the car and leave. There is an unspoken tension between the two of you. How did this day go from being so happy, so excited to head into a new journey together, to this?

"Parents usually love me." Bucky says, breaking the silence by trying to be funny.

"I'm sorry." You respond. Bucky shakes his head. "Really, I'm used to these kinds of reactions from people. I think that you're the only one who hasn't run off the moment we met." He admits.

"Still. I can't apologize for him but I can be sorry that you were treated that way."

"Seriously, it's more natural for people to react that way. You're the only one who hasn't, Y/N. That's what makes you so precious to me."

The ball of anxiety in your stomach starts turning into warm butterflies all over again. I don't understand how so many see Bucky as this deadly, soulless person. He has such a big and kind heart. And while yes, he's past is hard to get over, working hard on himself and making amends with everyone he can, speaks volumes about his true self.

"It finally looks as though someone lives in here!" You say, hands on your hips looking around the newly decorated living room.

"Yeeeah." Bucky says as he scratches the back of his head.

"Oh come on. Having me around all the time won't be so bad."

He laughs while taking a few steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. "That sounds terrible, honestly." He jokes, pulling you in closer. You'll never get over just how warm his body feels when pressed to yours, which makes no physical contact feel just that much cooler.

Jumping up, you wrap your legs around his waist, being overcome with the need to be as close to him as you possibly can. Bucky of course supports your weight effortlessly, each palm grabbing a fistful of your ass. Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean in to kiss him. He moves his right middle finger to gently stroke once over your center. Pulling away from the kiss you let out a giggle, "Oh hey."

"Hey." He smirks, resuming the kiss and brings you to the couch. Sitting down with your arms still around each other, you're now straddling him. Your hips instinctively and tentatively start moving forward and back on his lap. A shallow breath escapes Bucky's mouth with a muffled moan underneath. You smile into the kiss and then pull back. He leans back in to continue the kiss but you withdraw further. Confused, he's looking up at you, his eyes pleading.

Shaking your head and grinning, you take your arms away from his neck, your hands wriggling down between your legs and reach of the hem of his jeans. A sharp breath pulls in from his lips as he keeps eye contact with you. Undoing the button and pulling down the zipper painfully slow, you decide to take on the assertive role here. Your power over one of the most feared men in the world, begging at just the very touch of your hands. Just the thought alone is enough to get you off. But neither of us are getting that right now.

Releasing his erection from his boxer briefs, his hips naturally advance towards your hands. And you let your hands drop away from him.

"What-" Bucky starts, but you place an index finger of his lips. "Shh." You coo quietly. "I'm going to do whatever I want." His eyebrows raise in response but he doesn't protest. After giving him a moment to realize that he is now under your control, you spit into your left hand before moving it back down to the small gap between both of your legs. You grip his shaft firmly, but not aggressively. Your hand starts in a leisurely up and down motion.

You take his bare metal hand and place it between your thighs. "Rip them." You say sternly while grasping onto him slightly harder. Following your orders, his fingers move upward to the waistband of your leggings and pulls swiftly downward. The tearing of the fabric makes your entire body tingle. Bucky discards the remnants of your pants onto the floor, leaving your lower half covered only by a thin, lacy piece of fabric.

Raising yourself up while still straddled in his lap, you gently use your hand to maneuver his tip to your only slightly covered opening. He takes a deep breath as his head rolls back to meet with the top of the couch. His hands twitch slightly on your thighs, trying to control the desire to flip around and bend you over the couch.

Now using your left hand, you pull the material to the side and gently glide him in. His hips try to buck up into you, but still having a firm grasp, you hold him in place.

"No." You say strictly, and he reluctantly relaxes. Continuing to slide him in inch by inch he looks up into your eyes. A small moan escapes his mouth once he is fully inside of you.

You pull him in close to your chest, tenderly running your hands through his hair. Aside from your core having the natural tendency to constrict around him, you don't allow your hips to move. Bucky's breathing intensifies just from the sensation of being inside of you along with your nails in his hair. "Not a word." You whisper, still keeping your body rigid, painfully refusing both of you the release that you so desperately want. But the continuation of your hands rubbing through his hair, down his back, and sensually up and down his arms lulls him to sleep right then and there after a while. You grin to yourself, barely being able to contain the excitement you feel for the repercussions you're going to face for this.

Next part

[napswithwolfie]

LU Pokemon AU

Looking for pokemon with multiple concinesses to build four’s team was very fun ngl, tough it did get op quickly what with the empahise on steel types for his team. Anyhoot enjoy the hc’s :))))

(lord forgive me for the horrible names i’ve given some of these poor mons. I promise to give them proper names in the futures…)

Time Sky Warriors Twilight Wild Legend Hyrule 🧩Four Wind 

Team descriptions under the cut 👋👀

🧩Minccino: Smol. Mousey. Adorable - a sweet minish native. I originally wanted to make mincinno Four’s main mon but that felt a little underwhelming (no hate minny babes sobs). 

Mincinno has an easygoing personality, letting the wind take them where it wants, enjoying all the opportunities that comes its way. They are able to find the small joys in the mundane that most others may misinterpret as childish naivety. They insist on keeping junk they find, puzzling over items trying to figure out how to recycle what it finds.

🧩Mawile: (so i know the pokedex strongly insists mawiles jaw is just a set of horns, but we’re gonna ignore all that and say its a second head. Okay cool sweet nice) 

Their two consciousness are at odds with one another most times, often with the jaw snapping in odd directions trying to tug mawile away from whatever they’re doing. It can be annoying relying on someone else to get everything done but Maws trusts Smiles to listen to them. But eh, its not so bad being in the passenger seat, much simpler in fact not having to worry about much.     

🧩Magnezone: Its endearing seeing someone as large and bulky as Magnezone hovering over a flower its curious over. Similar to Four they’re housing multiple personalities that they will swap between.

1: shy careful   2: easily distracted clumsy   3: bold insistent Each on of their personality will let their curiosity drag them away

🧩Leavanny: Infinite patience - This is a team with 13 consciousness - They will pull on their motherly instincts to wangle each and every present mind into line. You bet when they blow a gasket everyone suffers. 

🧩Aegislash: (similar to mawile we’re gonna tweak actual cannon to suit my needs, in my case the blade and shield are separate entities and have a symbiotic relationship.) 

Sword (gods i promise i’ll give them proper names, mercy i cri) is a timid creature unsure of their own strength. They get overwhelmed easily and constantly beg to hide behind Sheild. This frustrates Sheild to no end, adding to its complex over its passive form. 

They hate seeing Sword belittle themselves, that they can’t understand their own strength, and their potential to be a powerful duo. Though they don’t know how to show Sword this and their attempts at ‘encouragement’ often come across as bullying. 

🧩Hydreigon: Iirc dink is a big part of four’s story so we’re gonna try and squeeze him in here.

I really have no idea what im doing here so gonna leave it be and work on it later when i learn more about fours dink.

---

Notes: I reeeeeeeeally wanted to include metagross in four’s team with each cores’ colour matching his spirits’. Tho the 1-2-3 pattern had to stay with four tying it all together nicely.

Honorable mention to spida tho. I thought of a them having a chameleon like affect with their spot arrangement switching whenever a different persona took the wheel.

I actually havent played that many zelda games, and surprisingly of the few i did play four swords and minish were some of them. But that was forever ago when they literally first released, so i remember next to nothing about those games.

---

🔴 Partner Pokemon: Mawile ⚪ Smaller team: Minccino, Mawile, Magnezone

🔂Time 🐥Sky 🌹Warriors 🐶Twilight 🏹Wild ✌️Legend 🍃Hyrule 🧩Four 🌊Wind

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #242

I got to bed relatively on time last night. I still woke up groggy as heck, because that is the nature of sleep deprivation injuries; it'll be at least a week or two before my brain fully recovers; such is the nature of the brain cleaning cycle. Oh well.

Nonetheless, I had a lot of fun at work today! There was, along with Mi, Ma, and I, another lady named Tr, and the whole day was filled with laughter and delightful banter as we did our various tasks; it was wonderful!

I'm always amazed at how quickly the time passes while I'm there. I'm always busy, always moving from one task to the next, always moving around, so the four hours pass by in a flash, and I'm always just a little sad when it's time to go home.

They asked me to make muffins again today, and with the practice I got from my first time doing it, I was a lot better at it this time! I even found a more efficient way of filling and leveling off the muffin scoop, and so I was able to fill the muffin tin a lot more quickly than last time, and with far more consistency! The muffin batter was then baked. Here they are in the giant walk-in oven; it's not a great picture, I know, but I couldn't really do anything about the glare...

...And here are the results of my handiwork:

...Aren't they beautiful? Someone's gonna go home with a box of these, and that makes me really happy!

I also put muffins that were previously baked into boxes. Each of these shelves have 6 boxes that contain 4 muffins each. And I filled even more shelves than these today:

...We have them in so many different flavors! We've got pistachio, chocolate, pumpkin, banana-nut, apple cinnamon, corn, and so many more. The ones I baked were cranberry muffins. They're not my favorite, but they're someone's favorite, and that makes me feel really glad.

I like this job. I like the repetitive certainty of the routine tasks. I like the diligence and precision of a job well done. I like knowing that my manager is delighted to watch me learn, and is proud of the efficiency and conscientiousness with which I work. I like knowing that I will only continue to improve. I like knowing that I am working with others towards a shared purpose. I like knowing that I am capable of improving the processes that are used in service to that purpose. And I like knowing that someone is gonna go home with a box of delicious things that were wrought from my own hands.

J requested that I get sandwich supplies on the way home, so I did. I got deli sliced chicken, roast beef, genoa salami, and cheese, along with a loaf of seeded rye bread. With these, I made a sandwich!!! And I put truffle mayo on it, because why not!

Either it was a sandwich of epic awesomeness, or I was just hungry. Either way, it was awesome and I loved it!! I wish I could make one for you!

Hey, Sephiroth? What kind of sandwiches do you like, anyway? What kind of toppings and dressings do you like to put on them? I wonder...

In any case, we went to a birthday party shortly after that. Our friend Mer's birthday was today, and so she decided to gather up a bunch of her friends to eat tasty snacks and play board games! It's nice to know that J and I are on the list of people she considers friends! We played a card game called Boss Monster; basically you're the monster ruler of your very own dungeon that you build out of cards that represent rooms! I ended up getting an entity called, uh... Seducia... I guess. Hahahaha!

But I didn't really have much interest in killing adventurers or winning the game. I just built a party dungeon. I had a ballroom, and a menagerie of rescued critters, and a room that makes people silly, a room with an all-seeing eye, and a room with a lich dragon who is basically an interior designer! I had a cleric come by to try to kill me, because presumably, he thought my entity was too sexy to live (typical...), but he didn't succeed.

I like to think that instead of dying in my "dungeon", he simply changed his mind and decided that trying to kill me is silly, so instead he went to the ballroom and got a sandwich! Sandwiches are sensible. Violence is not. And then I like to think that he decided my dungeon is so awesome that he didn't wanna go home. Because the outside world is a cold and terrible place devoid of sandwiches!!! Or at least, devoid of sandwiches that are as good as the ones I can make!!! Ahahahaha~!!

The whole game was very silly, but fun. I was super sleepy at the end of it, though, so I sat in a recliner for the rest of the evening. I ended up falling asleep in it, even though I didn't mean to. I'm still pretty groggy, even after a number of hours of being home. Suppose I should at least try to go to bed relatively on time...

...In the spirit of that, I guess I'll end today's letter here.

Hey, Sephiroth? Are you staying safe where you are? If you're not, please try a little harder, okay? I don't want to have to endure your absence. I'm not sure I'd be capable of withstanding such a thing.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[red-poppies-growing-in-black-ink]

"Alright, this probably won't hold them for long, especially with the grabpack. But it's better than nothing..." You recognize the toy's voice as an exact match for Dogday while he mutters to himself while looking over his handiwork.

Upon noticing you, the off-model dogday lets out a deep, annoyed sigh.

"Great, I thought the tape was longer given all the weird add-on hands..."

Formally Introducing: The persuasion mechanic.

When one world bleeds into another, the resulting ecosystem results in a lot of meshes between the dominant creatures.

As trying to presaude an entity that is incapable of doing so is just wasting time, it's important to learn that each group has it's own levels of sapience, sentience, and willingness to reason with a strange non-toy and non-ink creature that comes from outside the ecosystem like yourself.

Toys: All living toys are made out of human beings and posses human level sapience and sentience. There is exactly one entity inside the toy that you have to persuade and that is the toy itself. But while all toys are *human* that doesn't mean that all of them are easy to persuade. Most of them are children who are both afraid of human adults and untrusting of them, some of them are babies who are incapable of understanding what you are saying to them, and the very few adults and or teens you do find in the fully toy category do have their own things to worry about.

Toons: While toons' sapience and sentience comes from humans, toons are entities made out of Ink and unless the toon in question was made with one specific person in its mix, the Ink used to make toons is a slurry of people molded into a convenient humanoid shape with one toony personality slapped on to be in charge. All humans used to make toons are adults (with a few older teenage exceptions), but convincing Little Sally stuck inside the Candy Cat that you're not going to hurt her could be much easier than convincing the Boris made out of 32 frontal lobes that letting you leave is a good idea.

Tooned Toy: Uh oh! Someone killed a toon and stuffed a toy with it! Luckily for both parties, the resulting hybrid seems to be adjusting well as we can tell by the fact that the toon's features bled out into the toy instead of becoming an inky mess oozing out of the stuffing. But unluckily for you, persuading this creature means that you'll have to persuade *at least* two people.

Toy of a Toon: While there might not be any difference between a toy and a toy of a toon, it's easy to mistake them for toons so you need to be aware they exist so you don't get caught off guard.

Toon of a Toy (Specifically, why they're NOT here): Just because [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] got the Ink Machine to work as intended doesn't mean that [REDACTED PRONOUN] would want to make toons of toys willy nilly. Plus, when you already have living toy versions of the characters, wouldn't making living cartoon versions be redundant?

Inked Toy: Watch out for ink leaking out of a toy's seams or dripping out of eye sockets. A toy can be reasoned with, an inked toy is basically a hollow shell with an inky parasite inside it. Before you dismiss this group as impossible to persuade on the grounds of not having human intelligence, remember that a human can count as a parasite.

Corrupt Toon: A toon that has been opened up, had important parts taken out (and possibly replaced with Junk), and sent back out. You are completely unable to verbally persuade a corrupt toon as most of the time their lobotomies involve the removal of the language processing center of the brain. However, even the most fucked up of corrupt toons understand fire, food, and violence.

Ink Creature: Just like toons, ink creatures are slurries of a bunch of different people in inky bodies. Unlike a toon that is molded into shape and has a personality slapped on, an ink creature is just the raw stuff and most of the time it wears its level of sapience and sentience on its sleeves.

[lairofsentinel]

The [nonsense] comparisons between Forgotten Realm and Dragon Age Lore

Without entering to a discussion of how valid or not Canon is, and what does it mean, we all can agree that within the context of dnd, Canon gives a frame where the community can be build characters and stories around it. Canon gives the basics so we all can produce around it or modify some bits without turning it into another thing entirely different to what it was originally conceived, and therefore, our contribution in the fandom is an interesting addition because we are sharing, as a community, canon basic rules.

With this said, I would like to highlight some things that keep being repeated and make no sense  when compared:

Dragon Age (DA) lore is totally different to Forgotten Realms’ (FR). And this produces that the characters within these worlds have different and totally opposite experiences about the “similar” thing in question. Especially when it comes to magic. I will sum up briefly this:

In DA, so far we know, there is no Weave as it is in FR. The Fade is not the Weave. The Fade is a plane of existance where mostly mages can access to via dreams [even though history has shown some exceptions, but we are not going into those details]. The Weave in Forgotten Realms is Mystra herself, and it’s like a translator: it allows the use of raw magic that only Wild-magic users can tap into it directly. The Weaves allows any mortal to cast magic if they study hard enough without losing their sanity with the use of raw magic. In the Weave there are some of Mystra’s previous Chosen Ones, living as spiritis, one with her, ready to be reincarnated when she decides it is needed. These are the Weave ghosts that have been added to the lore of FR recently. Again, Fade and Weave are not even similar. And the Veil in DA can’t also be considered similar to the Weave: it is a restriction between two world: the Waking World and the Fade. So no. There is no equivalent of the Weave in DA.

Magic comes from different sources in FR: you can study it and master it via the Weave, or you can be devout to a god or have a patron and they will provide you divine/”patron” power [clerics, paladins, warlock]. Bards are more like a “free to interpret” case since their magic comes from music or sometimes from a god, depending on the way you create your bard. In DA, there is no apparent source of magic, although it seems to be connected to the Fade. Mages are born with magic, and need to learn how to control it along their lives at the risk of being posessed by demons.There is no way in DA that any non-mage person can master magic [Let’s put aside the dilemma with the dwarves and the non-magical powers of the Titans, that’s a lot of [unresolved] lore in DA for this summary]

DA’s demons are not even remotelly close to Demons in FR. In FR we have demons [chaotic evil entities] and devils [lawful evil entities] who have been in war eternally in what it’s called the Blood War. Both factions want to control the planes, but first their need to deal with the enemy faction. Many secret organizations in FR work incognito to help Devils/Demons when this conflict ends up too inclined to one side. This is because these organizations are trying to keep Devils and Demons fighting 50/50 each other eternally since, once this conflict is solved, it’s mostly for sure that the planes will be conquered by the winning faction. That dire it is. Devils do not exist in DA, and its Demons are related to human’s desires and compulsions. DA’s demons also have, like the spirits, a reflective nature: they mirror what the mortals expect from them.

Dragon Age has no Wizards as Forgotten Realms has. Wizards are people who through a lot of effort, study, and intelligence have acquired the power to manipulate the Weave, or tap into it, to produce magic.  If anyone is midly qualified as a Wizard in the world of DA is Dagna: a person who has strongly studied magic by her own volition without a real “need”. But she can’t perform magic [yet].

DA’s mages are closer to FR’s sorcerers, even though they are not exactly the same. Sorcerers in FR are magic users who don’t need to learn to control magic because it’s natural to them. They tap into the Weave to take what they need. The Wild-magic sorcerer can tap directly into the Raw Magic, without touching the Weave and without losing their sanity, but the consequence is the randomness of their magic. Sorcerers don’t need to study to control their powers unlike the DA’s mages. In DA, mages develop their powers in their childhood and are unable to control them. Nobody can’t turn into a mage unless you are born with that “gift and curse” in DA lore. All mages in DA lore need a teacher, mentor, or studies in order to control their powers and prevent demon posession.

Probably one of the most important differences: Larian is not Bioware. Larian has always had its own mark for good or bad [just check all the previous games they did]. And Larian has a long, long history of being really bad at handling lore, even their own lore [DOS2, DOS1, Ego Draconis, etc]. Which I think it’s clearly shown in BG3 too. Even with borrowed strong lore, they manage to produce important plot holes and lore holes [Characters turning into Mind Flayers without being Tadpoled, Gods that are not gods, but quasi deity and therefore have no godly powers, extremelly confusing mixture of concepts that were well defined in 4th Edition and now are all the same in some conversations, but in others are different things, Weave that doesn’t exist, etc, etc].

[queenburd]

So like I was gonna do more with this and I might later but right now it’s bite sized and pleasant, it’s nicely self contained, so here’s a TSP fic about the narrator being indecisive about making himself a character model.

—

[ I have a question. ] Stanley posits to no one in particular.

He is standing in the room with two doors, quietly considering. As it is his choice, the narrator is quiet here, and allowing him the privacy of his own head. Mustn’t spoil which route Stanley wants to take for himself, he’s said before. Keeps the fellow on his toes.

(Toes. Ha. How relevant.)

“Yes, Stanley?” The narrator prompts him with friendly curiosity. At one point he may have asked with impatience, an effort to keep him moving, but they’ve done every route so many times that sometimes, it’s more fun to take their time. Stop and smell the roses. “What’s on your mind?”

Stanley—fidgets. It isn’t like him, to fidget, or hesitate. When he finally signs again, after a long consideration, it’s clear he’s chosen every word very carefully.

[ It’s probably a silly question. Is that okay? ]

“Well, Stanley, you are a silly person, so I expect nothing less.”

He scowls at the ceiling, scrunching his nose at the tease. There’s no heat in it, of course.

There’s such a… gentleness, to their relationship, these days. For two entities designed to be in conflict, they’ve somehow found a way to meet in the middle, and find the places where they disagree as ways to appreciate each other. It’s hard, having to deal with someone else’s perspective when they think so differently from you.

But it’s good. It’s nice.

“Go on, then. I will reserve my judgement on the silliness of your question for after I hear it.” Stanley snorts.

He looks at his hands. Releases a puff of breath.

[ Do you have a body? ]

There is no response, but this is fine, because Stanley continues, nothing but genuine curiosity behind his thoughts. There is no motive, no craving. Just simple questions.

[ I usually think you don’t, but sometimes you sigh, or cry or clear your throat, or just do things that imply more than just audio. People have lungs and stuff, to make those noises. But I know you’re not human. But do you have a character model somewhere, like mine? ]

“Um. Er,” is the uncertain reply. The fellow sounds caught off guard, a little sheepish. “I… no. I don’t.”

[ oh. Okay. ]

Stanley isn’t disappointed, not really. Okay, perhaps a touch. But not enough to be properly bothered.

“Wh— is that it? No followup?”

He shakes his head.

“Is it a problem that I don’t have one? I’d never thought to—good lord, can you imagine?”

Stanley shakes his head again, then considers it, and lifts a hand, seesawing it vaguely.

It isn’t a problem, per se, that the narrator isn’t a physical being. It’s simply—

[ Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch. We’re not human though, so I don’t need it. It’s like the sleep thing. ]

“Hm.”

The narrator sounds contemplative, learning something new. Stanley fidgets again.

[ I was just curious. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. ]

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” the tone is dismissive, distracted. It stings a bit, but it’s probably for the best. The last thing Stanley wants is to make them stew in an uncomfortable atmosphere. The pair of them should move on.

It’s honestly fine that Stanley’s never had interaction with another person. Or. Well. He thinks it is. It doesn’t bother him frequently. He ISN’T human, so he isn’t about to go mad without it.

There have been times where he really really wished, needed, craved comfort—mostly in the worst moments when the both of them were affected. The aftermath of the Skip Button ending is the most obvious.

But the narrator’s voice has become its own kind of presence. It can rest on his shoulders like a weighted blanket does, grounding him and soothing him, easily as intimate as a hug.

So there’s no real loss here. Stanley can’t miss something he’s never had. It’s honestly okay.

“Er, Stanley?”

Right. Doors. Stanley crosses his arms and considers them.

“The door on the left, you know the drill.”

Mm. No, he thinks he’ll take the door on the right. The lounge is calling his name, singing sweetly with its serene blue and photos. Then maybe he’ll play a different game behind a blue door.

There’s a little grumble that follows him when he heads to the right. Stanley smiles, gives a cheeky wink.

—

The narrator—ponders.

He doesn’t do it frequently; he finds he doesn’t like to. It’s quite easy for him to get stuck thinking about one little thing, one tiny detail, capturing all his attention until he comes back to himself and finds hours have passed and Stanley is sitting against a doorframe trying to entertain himself with a whiteboard and marker, having long since given up trying to capture his attention.

Pondering is not… good for him, the narrator thinks.

But, as he is prone to do, he catches himself going back to a moment, looking it over again and again, trying to glean something new.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Do you have a body?

The narrator is a voice. He is a part of the parable, he is a mechanism. But then, Stanley is a mechanism of the parable as well; a vessel for a player.

It isn’t the same. They are intrinsically different. But do they have to be?

The narrator is and is not the world; he is and is not the halls, the doors, the very air itself. He controls it, it controls him. He has access to its assets; it has access to his mind.

He wonders if this is how humans feel about their own bodies. Both in control, and plagued by limitations.

Oh, for goodness’s sake, he’s doing it again. Going off on an inexplicable contemplation of the nature of humanity, existence and choice. Honestly, sometimes even the narrator doesn’t know what he’s on about.

The narrator doesn’t have a body. He doesn’t need a body.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Would…

Would Stanley prefer it if he had a body?

I don’t need it.

He thinks on the hesitation in Stanley’s fingers. He wonders what it would be like to squeeze them.

Textures. Temperatures. Softness, firmness, sharpness. Scents, tastes.

Senses he knows about in theory. He has no frame of reference.

Would it be that difficult to make himself a character model? He has assets hidden in the code of the game, models he can edit, tweak, piece together to make something new.

Oh, but how could he choose the right features? How could he know when it’s really him?

And—oh no—what if Stanley dislikes it?

The narrator knows himself, he knows that if he wants to do something he commits to it until he thinks it’s perfect. He won’t settle for less. He’d put his heart and soul into it.

If he put all that work into a model, and Stanley didn’t like it?

He doesn’t think he’d take it very well.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.

—

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he—would you at least be so kind as to let me finish?” The voice berates Stanley as he swerves right without pause. Stanley doesn’t even roll his eyes.

He’s going to go see the lights.

There’s a nervous clearing of the throat. “S-Stanley was so bad at following directions—“

Spare him, please. He understands the needed script, but it grates a bit this time. Stanley balances on the edge of the platform, a hand around the support rail, timing his jump.

“Look, Stanley—“

Not his enemy. No, they’re not enemies. In fact, Stanley would go so far as to call the fellow his dear friend. It’s why he’s doing this.

This is not an act of cruelty. He knows the fear it strikes into the narrator, and in honesty Stanley cannot blame him. The number of times the protagonist has gone down this route just to find a different exit, all in vain, is not a high value, but it’s still too many.

There are only two ways out of the room behind the red door. One is in the narrator’s power, if he can overcome his own nature to use it. The other is in Stanley’s power, and makes them both miserable.

It’s not ideal. And it’s so frustrating, because this place really is beautiful. It really is up there as one of Stanley’s favorites.

Clearly anxious, but trying to keep his composure, the narrator loads the map into the starry dome. In the instant Stanley steps into the room, all the panic falls away, into an easy bliss.

“Oh…”

Stanley walks to the center of the platform and sits. He crosses his legs, craning his head up to watch the lights.

The narrator is quiet, but his flood of real peace is palpable. This is one of the places he seems most open. Most willing to relax.

Usually, that can be a danger after too long. He ends up stopping, never progressing forward, unwilling to move. That’s not a life.

But they’ve compromised on so many things. This is one of those things too.

[ I’m going to stay a while ], Stanley offers in the dark, knowing he will be seen. [ You’ve been preoccupied for a bit. Do you want to talk about it? ]

“I—“

The voice cuts itself off, clearly surprised, the anxiety slipping back in.

[ It’s okay if you don’t. I thought being here might help you deal with whatever’s going on. I’ll wait as long as you need. ]

—

To say the narrator is embarrassed is putting it mildly.

He feels caught red handed, even though he hasn’t even done anything.

“Am I really so obvious?” He grumbles, more to himself than to Stanley. The man grins anyway.

[ I know you. I pay attention. ]

“Hmph. That’s debatable,” he grouses. Still, Stanley was wise to come to this place to prod him. He’s much more at ease here. A little less ashamed, afraid, overwhelmed.

[ Like I said. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll stay here while you sort out whatever’s been bothering you. This way you don’t have to be distracted by the narration. ]

He’s being…. Kind. So kind, to a person who used to be his enemy, his jailer. How has the narrator been so fortunate to have a Stanley that is so exceedingly good? He knows he certainly hasn’t been a fine example in the past.

He sighs. Stanley lays back, hands behind his head on the floor. It can’t be comfortable, on the metal grating. The narrator gives a small noise of warning, before he changes the texture pattern on the dark floor to the rug he’s saved for the Bottom of the Mind Control Facility Bucket ending. It’s a bit more comfortable than the carpet in the office.

It catches Stanley off guard a little, and the narrator chuckles as he shakes his head at the sudden change, like a wet dog shaking off water. But he settles back with a smile.

“If you intend to be there a while, you may as well be comfortable.”

It’s just… so easy. To be with Stanley. To do things for him. To try to make him smile. Like it’s innate. It wasn’t always. But he’s changed. The both of them have.

They look at the lights for a bit. The narrator feels himself relax. Like he’s floating. Like he is one of the lights, going up, down, changing slowly, unhurried and unconcerned.

Why has he been so worried?

It takes him a long minute to realize he wasn’t the one who had wondered that.

Stanley waits for him. Stanley doesn’t demand anything from him. Stanley’s intentions are entirely devoid of deceit or manipulation.

It makes this… easier.

“I…”

But not completely.

“I’ve been thinking. About making something new. I haven’t decided if I should do it, because, well—I worry you won’t like it.”

Stanley’s eyes are closed, but he’s awake. He’s listening.

The narrator is being very careful with his words. It’s been at least fifty runs since Stanley asked him about a model, so he knows at least that it doesn’t occur to the protagonist that this is related.

No, Stanley is wondering if the narrator has been considering new endings. Why wouldn’t he like the new endings? They aren’t ones where he dies painfully and miserably, are they?

The narrator chuckles good-naturedly, suddenly far more at ease. “No, Stanley. No cruel twists of fate that leave you mad or dead, that much I can assure you.”

Okay. Then Stanley isn’t sure why he wouldn’t like whatever the narrator makes for him, if it comes from some place genuine.

It leaves him a little tongue-tied. The narrator hears himself swallow, without a throat.

“It’s not that simple.”

Why not?

“Because…”

Because he doesn’t just want Stanley to like it. He doesn’t want Stanley to be happy because it’s a new thing.

He wants Stanley to like him. He wants to make this thing himself, the way humans shape their bodies to fit the way they picture themselves in their heads, and he wants Stanley to like what he sees.

It would be him. It would be his. And if Stanley was just neutral about it, or just didn’t like how he looked, then—

Oh, he couldn’t bear it. It would hurt him irrevocably. He’d throw it into the deepest pit of code and never think about it again.

“I… I think, if I did try to make this, this idea I’m considering, a reality, well—you know I don’t do things halfway. I’d be so—it needs to be perfect, do you understand? And if I spend all this time on it, only for you to, to—“

To treat it like his story.

“—yes! Exactly! Oh, Stanley, this is for you, it’s all for you. I just want to make something for you that you’ll care about, and appreciate.”

(And love, he is certain not to say. There’s no need to attach such words to this idea yet, that’s a little too dangerous.)

Stanley is very quiet. He’s thinking, but he’s thinking in that way where he wants to be certain with his words, so the narrator gives him his privacy. The narrator looks at the lights. He lets himself relax again.

He can feel Stanley’s tender heart. His compassion. Stanley cares deeply for him, can see how much it matters to him.

A desire fills the protagonist, an intense longing he can’t bury, hard as he tries. The voice can’t help peeking at it, not when it’s bubbling over like a boiling pot against a lid.

More than anything, Stanley wishes he could hug the fellow.

He must make some noise of surprise, because Stanley’s demeanor changes instantly to one of embarrassment and trying to recontextualize.

He wants to comfort the narrator! He doesn’t mean to make it weird! He just wishes he was able to provide the fellow a physical sort of validation!

The narrator feels more than sees Stanley’s face flushing all the way to his ears. He can’t help laughing, not at the man necessarily, not even meaning it at his expense. It’s just…

It’s a little adorable?

Stanley’s embarrassment only grows. Welp. Moment ruined. Time to go throw himself off the stairs.

“Absolutely not!” The laughter dies instantly, turning to an angry sort of panic. Stanley flinches.

Right. Not a funny joke when it’s here.

The narrator inhales deeply. “God, you gave me a fright.”

He can feel the genuine remorse radiating off his friend. Forgives him immediately.

“It’s—it’s alright. Slip of the tongue, as they say.”

Well, Stanley can’t talk, but, yeah. They both are on the same page.

“In any case. Thank you for listening. I… I think I will try, actually. I honestly appreciate your… your sentiment.”

The narrator can hear the smile in his voice. Yes, he’s going to go through with this. He’s certain now.

Because Stanley wants to hug him. And that in itself has erased all his doubts.

Still.

“Can we… stay here, for a little longer?”

He’ll reset. He will. Stanley doesn’t need to hurt himself. It’s just…

It’s so peaceful here.

Stanley shoots a thumbs up at the ceiling, towards the lights. The narrator relaxes again. Tries to imagine himself laying besides Stanley. Looking up with him. He wants it more than anything.

“Thank you, Stanley. I… thank you.”

Soon.

[mxstball]

It looks like Lacey was drawn out from the presence of XD001 once again. Neither minded the other's existence, honestly. If anything, the two were more comfortable in each other's vicinity. So, Lacey sat nearby and started meditating.

She started to think about herself. It was always a source of conflict, after all. Just what exactly was she? More specifically, what exactly did she want to be? She still didn't see herself as just a facet of Heidi, but she neither wished to break free of this body nor to take it over. If anything, sharing the body between the two of them has led to great things and given each of them ample opportunities.

Yet, still she doesn't wish to simply assimilate. She wanted to have her own destiny and not exactly be at the whims of someone else. They may be on the same page and Heidi may be gracious about their coexistence but what if something happens? What if their dynamic changes? What if she holds Heidi back or if Heidi holds her back? Would that be fair on either of them?

Who did she want to be...? What did she want to be? The answer to that question is the key to finding out the truth of what to do.

That's when she remembered a dream that she had during Heidi's active time.

---

Lacey was standing in the snowy fields of Route 216. Despite the snow and the chills, the dragon didn't feel intimidated. She didn't feel cold or wet or anything. Instead, the Shadow Pokémon simply... walked.

The details of the dream were fuzzy, but she remembered walking on and on... slowly following the figure of a familiar entity.

The True Arceus walk walking down the route ahead of her... holding the hand of... another copy of her. Despite that, Lacey continued trekking.

She remembered hearing Arceus's words as if she was nearby, even though she wasn't.

"You know the answer to that question, Lacey. You know who you are. You know what you want.... But pain prevents you from seeing it."

Pain? From what? This shadow energy? She's always been a Shadow Pokémon. Pain is all that she knows.... Pain... and Heidi.

"...and sisterhood, too."

....and sisterhood. It was Lauren that taught her that.

"...then maybe you can learn from yourself, then."

That's ridiculous. She can't learn anything from herself. She's already resigned to her fa--

Lacey stopped as the Arceus and the facsimile stopped and turned to see her, along with a third entity. It was then, when she saw something different....

... the Arceus smiling and winking at her.

A figure of her Heidi looking at her....

...and a third entity... a purified, Arceus-like entity.... One that resembled her and stood where her counterpart stood--

---

Lacey opened her eyes. What exactly was that entity? Was that supposed to be... her? A purified her? But without Shadow Energy, what... exactly is she supposed to be? The dream places the three as separate but equals, and yet Heidi and she shares this body because they were two sides of a coin... they were one and the same.... They were simply shadow and non-shadow parts of themselves.

But now? Now, she can no longer have peace. May the dream forever haunt her until she finds its meaning.

[willakk]

Holiday Truce Fanfic: "When the Portal Stops Working"

Here is your holiday truce gift @i'mDeadTiredTM! I did Prompt 1: When the portal stops working, Danny leaves Amity quietly and doesn't come back. What does it look like, for him to live in a normal world and have such strange secrets?

I might also write another one of your prompts and share it with you later (but no promises).

I hope you enjoy!

"When the Portal Stops Working (2698 words) by WillaKK Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Danny Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jack Fenton, Clockwork (Danny Phantom), Coffee Shop People Additional Tags: Portals, Collage, Coffee Shops, Secrets, puns, Holiday Truce 2022, Gift Exchange Summary: When the portal stops working, Danny decides to leave everything behind and try to achieve the hopes and dreams that he left behind before. But, it isn't always easy living in a normal world with strange secrets."

No one could have predicted that it would have happened (except for one being who knows the pasts, presents, and futures all at once). There were no telltale signs that it would happen. And, honestly, no one expected that it could. 

What happened is that one day, the portal just turned off. No one touched a temporary off switch. No one caused the portal to become unstable and therefore be destroyed. No one did anything. That is why it was so peculiar that the portal stopped working some random Thursday. With no warning, the rift between realities was gone. 

At first, the town of Amity Park did not know what to do. The disappearance of the portal’s effects was unnerving. The constant ebb and flow of otherworldly energy ceased to exist. The, honestly troubling, constant attacks and fights disappeared. All presence of ecto-entities ceased to exist. Although it did help the town become safer and back to its peaceful ways before the Fentons tore a hole in reality, no one really knew how to deal with the change. When something is so much a part of your day-to-day life, it’s hard to adjust to a new pattern without it.

This was especially difficult for the Fentons (and the girl known as the Red Huntress, but that’s a story for another time). Jack and Maddie Fenton, who used to always be seen running amok around town, ecto-weapons blazing, were now uncharacteristically sequestered away in their house. Practically the only time they were ever seen out was to buy groceries at the store or random items at the hardware store (that people learned to never question because it could only lead to two responses: an unending tangent about the project it was for or melancholy mumbling about failure). People also learned to never question the odd shipments of large boxes to the residence. The town of Amity Park learned to ignore the Fentons in a way entirely different than before.

The two elder Fentons didn’t notice the town’s change in attitude, whether it be towards them or the change in circumstances; they were too focused on how to fix the dead portal. However, their unyielding focus on their new project was not unnoticed by their son. 

Jazz was away at college when the portal died. That left Danny alone in the Fenton residence with his parents. The portal affected each and every one of the Fentons in that house, but Danny’s parents could never match up to how the broken portal affected him. First of all, Danny had to deal with the changes in his parent’s attitudes and focuses (although it could be just seen as a more intense version of before). They never took time away from their projects to deal with how the change affected him. But, most importantly, was that the portal breaking left Danny with a lack of purpose. Before the portal turned on in the first place (before everything down to individual molecules changed), Danny’s own meaning in life was his aspirations for the future. Ever since the portal turned on, achieving those aspirations inched further and further away. From then, he gained a new purpose, a new meaning in life (one that seemed like he had no other choice than to follow it). So, when the portal broke, something in Danny broke as well; he could feel it deep in his core. And it hurt even more when he realized that his connection to the Infinite Realms was severed completely. The only connection that was left was the ectoplasm running through his veins.

So, with the sudden lack of purpose, the disappearance of the connections between realities, and the torn Fenton family, Danny made a choice: once he graduated high school he would leave Amity Park behind, leave the past behind, and, hopefully, be able to relearn to follow his aspirations that he lost that one fatal day. (But he would never be the same Danny from before).

The disappearance of the portal followed the disappearance of Danny.

That is why we can find one Daniel Fenton working at a coffee shop near the border of Maryland and Virginia. He was a typical college student: tired, busy, and short on money (which is why he was working at the coffee shop in the first place. He was funding community college all by himself (and if his parents even did truly notice and realize the situation, they wouldn’t have enough money left for him anyways with money that wasn’t already being reserved for college (which Jazz was using, not that Danny was complaining – she deserved it) was used to try to get the portal up and working again (Danny didn’t need to be Clockwork to know that it would never work again)).

Everyone who worked there with Danny knew him as the typical college student visage that he portrayed. Yet he was also known for his witty remarks, love of space, and seemingly impossible and random remarks about past experiences. Many of his coworkers believed that he must have at least stretched the truth. Something else that was noticed, but wasn’t that visible and easy to realize, was that Danny had a keen sense and disposition towards safety around the coffee shop. One time, Danny even saw an accident involving multiple mugs just waiting to happen and ended up catching them all in time before they could shatter all over the floor and create a hazardous space.

So, all in all, Danny had his niche at the coffee shop, and if those around him noticed anything odd about him, they didn’t mention it.

This day, only Danny and his coworker, Sal, were working in the coffee shop. It was a slow day compared to usual, even with it being the weekend. Only a few people stopped by that day, and one could probably correlate that to the stormy day that left people wanting to stay home instead of driving or walking through the endless rain to just get a cup of coffee or a pastry. However, at around two in the afternoon, the bells above the door jingled, stopping Danny and Sal’s conversation about how Danny’s friends once created two protests in one night (which, kudos to them, Sal supposed, but like, how?). Following the ringing permeating the room, two regular customers, a mother, and her elementary school-aged daughter entered, quickly dismantling umbrellas as they tried their best to avoid the rain.

“Hi, Mrs. Brant!” Danny exclaimed with the typical amount of energy he had in the shop despite being an exhausted college student, “How are you doing?”

“Hello, Danny, and you too Sal,” Sal waved at them from where he was getting the coffee machines ready for their orders, “We’re doing just fine except for the rain here,” She said as she gestured out one of the many windows that lined the two walls that met in a corner near the front of the cafe.

“And I just finished my first ballet recital!” Claire, the daughter, exclaimed with utmost amounts of joy. She showed off her best attempt at a pirouette in clunky yellow rain boots, which matched the raincoat covering her uniform.

“Are you sure you’re not a professional?” Danny questioned, in what appeared to be a very serious tone towards the ten-year-old.

“Not yet …”

Mrs. Brant addressed her daughter by adding, “Maybe one day, honey, but remember, you will have to do a lot of practicing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Claire added, then leaning forward to whisper to Danny not so subtly, “But it’s not always fun, and it takes too long. I wish I could just do recitals.” 

Danny, playing along with Claire’s dramatics, whispered back, “It’s tragic, isn’t it? But, have you ever heard that “Practice Makes Progress”. If you never practiced, then imagine how messy the recital would be.”

Danny could see the gears in Claire’s head turning as she imagined just how it would be, “Yeah, I guess so.” She said as she leaned back on her heels. 

“Well,” Danny said as he changed the route of the conversation and took his mantle of the cashier, “What would you like to order today.”

“Well, we will share a slice of quiche Lorraine,” Mrs. Brant started, “I would like a medium mocha, and Claire would like a small hot chocolate” (Neither Danny nor Sal let Claire’s frown at the size of her drink go unnoticed).

“Great, would you like to make any changes to the way the drinks are typically made?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. Then your total would be fourteen-fifty.” Mrs. Brant subsequently paid for the order and sent Claire to go find a table of her choice.

“And,” Danny added with a smirk, “Before you go sit down, don’t forget the joke of the day! What do you call a baby cow?”

“Hmm, I honestly have no clue,” Mrs. Brant said as she shook her head.

“Decaf!” Danny exclaimed.

Mrs. Brant let out a soft laugh, “How do you always come up with these?” 

“It’s just a talent of mine. Your order will be out shortly,” Danny then gave a small wave to her while he walked over to the pastry case to get the quiche ready to heat up in the small oven. 

Sal was already working on their drink orders. And, as he was doing so, he realized that he most likely was the only one that saw the slight and short bout of fear that laced Danny’s face when Claire wished she could just do recitals. Another odd thing about him that he wouldn’t ever figure out, Sal assumed.

Once the quiche was all warmed up and the drinks were all ready, Danny went to bring them to the table that Claire chose near one of the side windows. While Sal was a friendly person, Danny was much better at customer service so, even though they were both trained to make the drinks,  Danny was typically the one to interact directly with the customers while Sal prepared the orders.

“Alright!” Danny said as he approached the dark-stained wooden table where the Brants sat opposite each other. “Here we have the quiche,” He placed it between them, “And here is your well-deserved hot chocolate Miss Olivia!” Olivia stopped swinging her legs under the table as she went to reach out for the delicious treat. “But make sure it’s not too hot before you drink it; you don’t want to burn your tongue,” Danny pointed out. Olivia sat back in her seat in response as she saw the seam coming out of the mug. “And then, we have …” But before Danny could announce the mocha and give it to Mrs. Brant, his voice trailed off as he was suddenly very alert and changed his stance to ground himself.

Without any warning, Danny shoved his arms forward, the mug of mocha floating next to him as it left his hand, his eyes glowed acid green, and a similarly colored shield of some sort appeared shielding the opposite side of the Brants’ table so it divided them from the windows that faced the street corner.

Then, a sharp shattering sound echoed across the room as a lamppost shot through one of the glass windows heading straight toward the Brants. It hit the green shield with a large thud that reverberated across the coffee shop. 

There was a short pause between all the members in the coffee shop as three out of four of them were struck with shock, and Danny was filled with relief that he was able to stop the lamppost from hitting anyone. Danny’s posture relaxed, and his hands dropped to his side as he willed the shield to dissipate. He then started to use telekinesis to move the lamppost back outside the window. Seeing that, Sal, who was still behind the counter but didn’t miss any of what happened,  was dragged out of his stupor and exclaimed, “What the –” he stopped and changed his choice of words as Danny turned to look at him pointedly, not pausing his telekinesis, as if saying, “There is a literal child right here, no swearing”. Sal finished his phrase with a pun that Danny would be proud of,  “– frappuccino!”

Once the lamppost was safely out of the building, the glow from Danny’s eyes ceased as he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Then he grabbed the floating mocha and handed it to Mrs. Brant, “And here is your mocha!” He said as if nothing had just happened.

A little flabbergasted, Mrs. Brant stuttered out, “Oh! Uh, thank you very much, Danny.” 

Suddenly, Claire jumped up from her seat. “That was so cool!” She exclaimed with an insurmountable amount of excitement, clearly ignoring the part where she almost was struck by a light post, “You were like, boom,” she mimicked putting her hands out in front of her, “And then it was like, bang, but it was like you weren’t even concerned! And then you moved the light post out without even touching it!” She wiggled her fingers in front of her face, “It was so cool.” She concluded with a touch of awe. 

Danny couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at her antics, “Well,” he started, bending over so they could be talking eye to eye, “How about it just stays a really cool secret between us, okay? You can be a special secret keeper, isn’t that awesome!”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve never had a job like that before … It’s like something from a book!”

“Exactly!” Danny said, then stood back up to normal height before addressing Mrs. Brant, “Would you like to move tables? It’s a little windy and rainy over here now.”

“Oh, sure, that’s a good idea.” She hadn’t even realized that the weather outside was getting in with all the disorder going on inside. 

Danny helped them move over a few tables so they were at the one next to the counter and furthest from the shattered window. Once they were settled, Danny turned to Sal and asked, “Would you mind passing me the broom?” Danny pointed over to the array of shattered glass that sat near the destroyed window. 

Once again removed from his shock, Sal responded as he stumbled around to grab the broom and dustpan, “Uh, yeah, man. Here they are.”

“Thanks!” Then Danny quickly cleaned up the light post’s mess. Once he finished, Mrs. Brant and Olivia were almost finished with their order. 

“Do you need anything else before you go?” Danny asked with utmost customer service.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Brant responded, “But …” She continued as she rummaged in her bag and pulled out her wallet, “Take this.” She pulled out a ten-dollar bill. 

“No, thanks,” Danny said as he waved his hands in a gesture reflecting his words, “In fact, how about you take some pastries to-go, on the house.” Danny flicked his hand towards the display case and casually used telekinesis to grab a few cookies and scones, put them in a wax paper bag, and whisk them over to himself. He then handed the bag to Mrs. Brant. Claire let out a soft “wow”, and Danny and Claire shared a wink. (Sal just tried his best to ignore the weirdness happening around him since he couldn’t even figure out how to start to fathom it).

“Thank you, Danny,” Mrs. Brant told him, clearly eluding to more than just the free pastries. “Well, we’ll see you two next week then.” There was a quiet agreement that neither of them would mention the use of powers that day. At that, the Brants started to head out, gathering their rain gear. Right as Mrs. Brant left, she added a small shake of her head as if still trying to comprehend all that happened.

Danny started to clear off the table, and Sal silently joined. It didn’t seem that they would ever talk about what exactly happened. But, now that Sal thought a bit about it, Danny and his wacky stories made a bit more sense. But, just a bit. It seemed as if he would never understand the strangeness of one Danny Fenton.

[bonesandthebees]

YOOOOO that's so cool :00

My first dnd character was a cleric, but that one was premade for me, so the first one i properly played was actually a wood elf ranger lmaooo twinning

And then my 3rd character for a campaign I made was a human college of swords bard

My fav character I made tho (as a guest character) is a water genasi wild magic sorc :))) wild magic is SO MUCH FUN also i just love water vibes sooo rahhhs

I love all my characters tho

(Tho only the cleric campaign ever finished 😭😭 the other two got demolished from covid big rip, one day I'll get back into dnd... one day)

BUT YOOO THATS COOL!! I think i remember u mentioning smth abou the discord rp in an old ask. Feel free to ramble about ur character here !!! I'd love to learn more, that's so cool :000

going through older asks time anyway hi again icy

omg twinning with the elf rangers!!

oooo human college of swords bard sounds like a fun time. I think I technically started making another dnd character at one point for a different campaign that never turned out, but I think she was going to be a tiefling monk? oh well lost ideas...

ooooo a water genasi with wild magic sounds SO fun. I don't know the details of wild magic mechanics that well but from the little I do know it sounds like that would be a lot of fun

ok well. the discord rp thing I was a part of was technically a fandom thing but the people running it very quickly took the plot in their own direction and by the end it was pretty unrecognizable what media it was originally inspired by. but um that's just a disclaimer in case anyone recognizes the format. pls don't snitch. anyway I'm gonna ramble about it under the cut so it will be long I am sorry

anyway! the gist of the game was that all our characters were thrown into a discord server and told we had to participate in trials run by a godlike beings (entities) who liked tormenting people for entertainment and all that jazz. we would have to submit videos of us completing tasks given to us in order to stay alive, and later on could also participate in puzzle games in giant vc calls if we wanted to basically just get extra kudos with the entities.

the rp was mostly done through in character texting, but again we could also film videos for tasks, and could participate in ic vcs. the rp itself was improv, but there was a team of admins who played the entities running the game, while also having characters of their own that participated in the trials as well. these characters had their own larger plot going on, but along with that the admins would work with individual player characters and give each of us our own plotline that connected to the larger story. so actually very similar to how the qsmp works right now, and somewhat similar to how dsmp worked

also fun fact, we had a 3 lives system! and this was july 2020, so, like, we did it before dsmp lol.

every participant was assigned a number, and was only allowed to be referred to by that number in the in game discord server. so while most of our characters technically shared our actual ooc names, I think of my character by her number.

my girl's number was 28. technically this rp game was a sequel to a similar one we'd done way back in 2018, so 28 was a continuation of my character from that. 28 was known as a peacemaker in the group who tried to keep everyone else grounded, but wouldn't take shit from others. she was definitely one of the nicest people in the group, but would call out bullshit if she saw it. when us participants started trying to find ways to plot against the entities running the games, 28 ended up becoming more of a leader-figure in the group along with a few others and tried to keep things between the other participants stable as these death games just got more and more stressful.

these games spanned over the course of nearly 9 months in real time so it's impossible for me to talk about everything that happened, but some highlights include 28 falling in love with another participant (22) and the two of them continuing to date even when 22 started working directly for one of the entities running the tournament while 28 herself was one of the leaders of the rebellion against the entities. communication goes a long way LMAO

later on in the rp a rival entity organization basically hijacked the games and forced all the og entities running it to either hide or become participants themselves. with this rival organization one of the new entities (known as the quarterman) picked out 28 and basically forced her into working for him as a hitman. the change happened over the course of like a month with 28 hearing dimes whisper to her all the time, until her soul got ripped out of her body and put into a dime that she had to keep on her at all times. after this though she could teleport, which was pretty cool!

I loved 28 as a character bc she tried so hard to be kind and keep everyone together but it was such a stressful situation and people got so harsh and bitchy with each other (all in character of course. we'd all have a huge argument and then hop into the ooc server to meme about it). the conflict she had between wanting to help the rebellion while her own gf worked with the 'enemy' was sooo much fun to rp. and of course my lovely friend lisa who played 22 was an amazing rp partner to have. lisa if you're reading this I miss our girls :(

it was just such a fun experience overall. I once had to order some really weird stuff off amazon once to build a fake radiation detector for a task video and my mom straight up thought I was building a bomb 😭 We did in character vcs both for plot but also sometimes we'd just drink and chat ic. the admins I worked with were so lovely and I'm so glad I had that experience bc it taught me so much about how rp games like that work and what style of improv rp I like. fun times :,)

[transinatrade]

The Beginning

It's been about a month.

If you couldn't guess by my URL, I am a trans person (FTM) who is entering the HVAC trade. This is for a few reasons.

As the economic crisis rapidly sends us streaming forward toward poverty, my entry level job was not making us (my partner and I) enough money anymore.

Gifted kid burnout caught up to me a long time ago, and with the affordability of college being completely impossible without loans I would never have a hope of paying back, I turned to trades as an option of higher education without the ridiculous price tag.

I am more of a hands on person. Sitting down at an office desk was never for me, and I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be. I want to get my hands dirty, and have a new adventure every day.

Why HVAC specifically? Good question. I was interested in trades in general, how things work has always fascinated me. HVAC was a matter of elimination. Medical was not for me, blood and high stakes stress me out and the cost of those courses are very high. I've already flunked out of engineering classes in high school so anything related to it was a no go. Welding was another good option, but with loud sounds and bright lights my autism and bad hearing were not going to have a good time. The last two I was considering were HVAC and electrical. Each excellent fields and I had high interest in both, so I applied for EMT which is a combination of both (electrical mechanical technician, not the medical worker).

Now a new issue arose, one I have dealt with my whole life.

I am transgender.

The current trans panic, living in the bible belt, not passing well, and the already intimidating trades were a lot to take in a navigate, but I believe I have been very fortunate.

The first step was shopping around for a school and being very up front with how I identify and the situation. Emailing schools made it easier to imagine the school as an entity rather than a collection of people each with their own political views that make them view me very differently. I was ghosted by a couple schools, I am unsure if this is because of my identity or if they thought I was a spammer, but for my sake I'd like to think it was the ladder.

I managed to get pell grants, a few scholarships, loans that are far smaller than they would be for a four year degree, and finally an approved application.

The first couple of months were intimidating, there is a lot to learn in a small amount of time and a recent head injury was not helping. However, I do not give up easily. I found that passing had never been more important to me than ever, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps the far more masculine men around me make me feel more inadequate. Perhaps the trans panic has indeed instilled a terror in me of being clocked as trans far more than I originally thought. Perhaps it is simply paranoia and the unknown. Whatever the case, I've found myself taking more steps than I usually do to pass, including binding. I never really did befores since having covid binding has restricted my breathing when any strenuous activity is involved, my chest is not large to begin with, and the mentioned current economic crisis has made it impossible to save for top.

There have been a couple instances when I was misidentified as female, thankfully my voice saved me in that regard, but when I am stopped up due to the weather, it is not as convincing.

In one instance the wrong name was called (since I have been unable to change it) so I had to pretend like my name was simply not on the roster until I could correct the person in private, embarrassing everyone involved. My existence is very alien, so there is no system in place to change my name or inform staff other than by email or word of mouth. It is all very overwhelming.

Other than all of these moving parts, day to day has been very smooth. I can update in the future if there are any incidents or new challenges come up. Thank you for reading.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Let’s talk about: Energetic tethering

Energetic tethering is the phrase I use to describe the way energy is sent between two connected points, so let’s dive in. This is a bit complex, so bear with me.

What is energetic tethering?

In a previous post, I talked about how the earth’s energy travels between two points along ley lines, essentially creating an energetic grid. But energy also can travel between two entities as well. So if, for example, you are one energetic point, you can receive energy from another energetic point, or person, via a tether. Think of this like an energetic chord that connects you both. When people talk about chord cutting they are talking about cutting a tether.

First, let’s explain the basic soul connection: Resonance

So, in my post on souls, I talked about how souls are evolving mosaics and when you have soul connections it’s because you each share a piece of a harmonic frequency or the same frequency. Harmonic frequencies are frequencies that are so close you can pick them up. Think of this like a radio and how you can pick up some stations but they are staticky. A harmonic frequency is like that, close enough to pick up but not as clear as the same frequency.

One of the reasons that celebrities can connect en masse is that they have a part of their frequency that is harmonic to many frequencies which is how so many people connect with them energetically. This in and of itself doesn’t create a tether. A lot of people feel connected to celebrities because of the resonance which is why the celebrity feels safe or comfortable or likable. Resonance happens when a frequency feels similar to your own, even if it’s not the same. Again close enough to hear but not the same frequency. Because most people have the capacity for spiritual gifts, they may resonate with a person and mistake that as a soul connection. We are all technically connected, so in effect, we are all connected spiritually which is why, if you train, you can learn to pick up information about anyone. What you are training is your ability to tune to other frequencies, which allows you to connect with others better. The difference in connections has to do with intensity and closeness. Resonance is a basic way two energies relate and we can resonate with many people.

So what’s a tether then?

A tether is different. It is a direct line of energetic exchange between two beings which means both beings have to consent to the connection. It’s a next level up from a mere resonance. It’s literally a lifeline. When you establish a tether to someone, they are able to access your energy and you can access theirs. There are many reasons you may establish a tether to another. You may need the energetic exchange during a time when your energy is depleted. Most of of us have tethers to people we deem close. Part of that closeness is that we share energy with one another. It’s how someone you love can pick up on how you’re doing from far away. Some tethers we carry through lifetimes, but we can also create tethers.

How do we create tethers?

In order to create a tether, you must share an exact frequency with the other point. There must be a need for the tether to exist, not just a desire. This need can be energetic in nature (ie needing help processing energy, needing access to more energy, needing protection, needing healing) or emotional (falling in love, adopting a child). Just because you have a soul contract doesn’t mean you have a tether to someone. We have contracts for many different souls to come into our lives, but a tether is more intimate. So for example, you may have a soul contract to meet your boyfriend in this life, and you may have agreed that he would play the part of this super kind guy that showed you what kindness means, and you agreed to show him what it means to be nurturing. Through this exchange, you fall in love. Technically when you learn true kindness from him, and he learns nurturing from you, the contract is up and you can part ways. Why many people don’t is that they formed a tether. Yes, tethers can be formed in toxic dynamics as well. Through your love, you created a channel for energy to travel to and from each other. Why? Because soul contracts usually have at least a harmonic or very close frequency with us, which is how we have any connection and they aren’t a complete stranger, and through time, both people can shift each of their energy slightly enough to find the same frequency and tether.

Tethers are very potent things and can be hard to sever as they are basically like a vein. When you cut it, energy can spew everywhere until it heals. Remember how I talked about energy leakage? Well this is one way you leak energy. The more energy you both pour through the tether the stronger it becomes.

Toxic tethers

Toxic tethers can be challenging because usually they are unbalanced and one energy is giving more than the other. Ideally, you’d both be giving energy equally in the dynamic. I’ll give an example. My abusive ex. We were contracted to meet, because we promised to meet and experience what we couldn’t in another life. The first time he was physical with me and I left, we had actually finished our contract. I had experienced all I had promised him in our past life and he had shown me dark truths about the world. What brought me back to him was the tether we had created together. I have described this relationship like a heroin addiction. When I first left him, I felt so painfully drained and empty that I went back to him. Why? Because we were still tethered and he was taking my energy unequally. The only way I felt I got energy from him was in his presence. Although I was contractually able to walk away, the tether boomeranged me back to him. And honestly, I’m not sure I’ve fully cut the tether yet. It’s very minimal now, but we are still connected through the pain he caused me. It’s a thin thread but he still pulls on it sometimes and so do I. It’s not always intentional, sometimes I stir emotions when I’m writing out my feelings and our tether activates. Time and distance can lessen the tether and you will know you are fully untethered when your emotions become peace. I’m still tethered to him because I still feel anger and grief tied to him. Although you both made the tether together, it only takes one person to break it.

Celebrity and public figure tethers

Celebrities and public figures are a bit different because they have a public persona. This persona is a frequency that’s like a basic frequency. I think of frequencies like music okay. Celebrities have a public persona frequency that’s basically an eight count. Almost every single song (soul) has a basic eight count in it. Almost every single soul has a frequency that contains this frequency. This is how they connect with so many.

They can be tethered to fans in a way. I’ll do my best to explain. Celebrities and public figures are sent tons of energy all the time, and one way they combat that is through energetic tethers with some souls. This exchange is called offloading. They are able to offload that energy onto someone else. They can also pull on the energy when they are depleted. Usually you can tell if you have this connection with a celebrity if you are feeling their emotions intensely or you feel very emotional about them. That’s a sign they are offloading or drawing on your energy. It sounds horrible like they are using you, but you agreed to this role. You are experiencing a service tether.

Basically for a soul to take on a big collective mission, it has to be supported by many souls. Usually this happens from a need, whether that is a collective need for positivity or learning through cruelty (yes even “villains” are chosen for their roles for the greater good). This means a lot of souls asked for this person to come here and do this work. Why? Because this person clears a lot of karma for many souls, especially the ones directly asking for them to serve. Just like our ancestors have us come in and clear our bloodlines, those on collective missions come and clear karma for many in the collective which is why it takes a lot of energy exchange for them to be successful.

This soul agrees to serve the mission and the souls that made the request agree to serve in this capacity as like assistants in a way. So think about the energy of Trump supporters and how emotionally activated they are. This is what I’m talking about. They are serving the collective and Trump’s soul, who agreed to come here to play this role in order to catalyze/activate a lot of humanity and to clear a lot of karma of these assistant souls. This assistant role is critical because souls serving collective missions are actually putting themselves at risk energetically. They become magnets for leeching energies and are tested deeply and repeatedly on whether they will allow their energy to be co-opted. It’s not easy choosing a collective role. These souls are still on individual and even sometimes partner missions. These service tethers help protect the person’s energy by allowing it to disperse in a way that doesn’t spread more lower frequencies. A lot of public figures transmute energy, so having many tethers helps with processing the collective lower frequencies. Service tethers can sever when the individual who asked for help has cleared the karma with the aid of the public personal soul. Usually not all service tethers are activated at the same time, so the public persona always has some assistance, at least until they choose to step back from the public significantly. If they fulfill their mission or become too exhausted, they may step back and fade away. Those who still pop up every now and again have usually completed their mission but still want to use their lifetime to the fullest and will continue to do more.

Where do we tether from?

The heart chakra!

Okay anything else?

Yes! I was explaining this to a friend. Readers don’t create tethers to people to read their energy. Essentially a reader is someone who knows how to attune to different frequencies. Like I explained in the souls post, we have to translate our soul energy to corporeal form and we do that through our chakra system/aura. When a reader reads a person, all they are doing is attuning their own energy to that of another person. It’s different from a resonance, it’s that they can tune to the exact frequency of that person, get some information that spirit allows and then tune out. By tuning into the exact frequency, they can pick up on the soul translating to the body. They are not effecting it. It’s like Walky Talkies and how if you find the exact frequency two people are using, you can overhear their conversation. It’s like that. That’s sometimes why you can pick up a soul connection someone has because a soul connection of yours will share either the same mosaic piece of the same frequency or a harmonic, a frequency close enough that it can get picked up with as well. So you and this soul connection may not be on the same frequency just yet, but you can pick them up in the static. A tether to the soul is different. That is a direct line of energy flowing between two people.

That was a lot. Hope it makes sense.