#but i want to start posting more smaller snippets from time to time!

[strangerays]

novel introduction: Nothing in Particular and Everything

[image ID: A girl in a yellow rain jacket stands over a cliff face with her arms outstretched. Blue waves twist below. Greenery hangs over the cliffs.]

[text ID under the cut!]

started: February 2021

stage: 3rd draft

pov: first person, past tense

tags: #nip: inspo, #nothing in particular and everything

Ask to be +/- from the tag list if that is something you would like!

@words-after-midnight​ @thesorcerersapprentice

[text ID: There is a cliff at the edge of Point Blink where kids twist into the air and throw dust to the vortexing waves; they shoot past eroded caves filled with old bird nests that fly up like slots in a mausoleum. A lighthouse with a jammed bell leers over the expanse of heat lightning reflections. Metal gargles against stone in storm weather, warning us all of childish dares. I was a lighthouse: lived in by sailors, travelers, and strangers; pale stone tall and strong against a maelstrom of salt and rock. Moon shells speckled my base, crushed or buried. Clouds passed over the moon, and I opened my eye to cast sickly yellow light over the waves as they smoothed the footprints of my friends, and of Dad, and of me. Point Blink has stood for decades, but I will stand alone for many more, flickering against all the stars, waiting for those I love to return to harbor.]

Synopsis -

Ever since her best friend left Point Blink, Ray hasn’t felt the same. Now that Lonan is away at college, her friend group feels more distant than ever. Ray struggles to hold them together.

Photography is Ray’s passion. Memories with her friends have helped her create cover her bedroom walls. It’s her senior year, as well as the last school photography club trip she’ll ever be a part of. When Ray is paired with new girl Jude - who is determined to find her own way in Point Blink - they stumble on an abandoned fire tower in the forest. As the girls explore its mysterious contents, an act of arson threatens their lives.

Over the course of the winter, the girls spend afternoons in a dark room and build a profile for the arsonist – as well as a strong friendship. But as they delve deeper into Point Blink’s history, secrets surface within Ray too. Her mental health starts to decline, as well as her obsession with resolving her friendships. If she is ever to resolve the world she loves, she must care for herself.

Excerpts - 

[text ID: I was a firm believer that the best art is created when the artist is lonely, angry, or depressed. The summer my best friend caught his train out of Point Blink, I was surprised to find that I became none of these things. We buried a time capsule beneath Sugarfell’s soaring pines and painted his bedroom walls a calm cerulean. We snuck out of house at nighttime to swim and went on a road trip to see our favorite band in concert. All my most colorful memories in Point Blink were unplanned in the beginning.]

[text ID: As it is, Lonan has always been a year older and a grade ahead of me. As I entered my senior year of high school, he entered his freshman year of college. It felt like we were miles apart. It felt like he was going to disappear.      Together, we stared across the pink beach. A piper toothed the drowned shore for beetles. Primordial fire reeds combed rays of golden sun to fine sparkles. Lonan never left the shore, just blinked slowly while pockets of young horseshoe crabs chased each other into a swirl of murky blue. I could never resist the water. Often I spread my arms wide, walked barefoot along the rock wall trailing away from the beach into the water. Lonan only watched me from the sand – smaller and smaller and smaller. Now I tried to focus on the melodic thrill of the waves, but a cold headache was starting in my forehead. Sometimes I think that if I didn’t put so much effort into my friendships, I might not be so angry all the time.]

[text ID:  I knew Lonan would never give up, because he was a rebel and I was quiet. He was my focal point. Point Blink a gauge built on magenta sea glass – and I had a third eye, primal in the growing.]

[text ID: The truth was this: time was fiction to me. When I lifted my camera up, saw the world as more beautiful than it was, made it mine for just a moment in time – the trees richer, the waves more childlike in their frothing – none of it stayed the same. When birds called my name over the burst of a wave onto the cliffs. When storms send shadows to dance across the bluff faces. My most purple imagination couldn’t convince me everything was going to be okay – my best friend was gone. All of these falling pieces of my world were stark reminders that Lonan Herrings was gone for what seemed like an indefinite time. Because once people find what they want, they never stop chasing it.I tried to hold a moment forever, but time isn’t fiction – it’s an hourglass. Lately, my life had felt more like a rusted compass with a broken face.]

[text ID:  Where the familiar world of oaks met the dusty clearing, a graffitied entrance sign barely hid a girl. Had it not been for the bright blue hat she wore with the number twelve stitched on front, I might have missed her altogether. She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun. Her lips curved to a satisfied grin as the sun highlighted her round cheeks a smooth sienna. She seemed truly content and stayed that way – forgot about the rest of us, even me.]

[text ID: I suppose – in many ways – I didn’t talk to anyone about Lonan. Not about school, either. About my friends, about the headaches I kept getting every night, about how I’d lost my appetite completely last week.            

“My best friend and I used to come down here a lot.”

Jude’s smile was small. “When was the last time.”

“He’s away for college right now.”            

Her smile fell. “Oh. That’s why you didn’t want me to tag along with you.”            

I swallowed.           

“That’s why you wanted to come down here on your own, isn’t it?”           

Her arm brushed mine and it was so warm. It reminded me of the safe feeling I got whenever Florian hugged me.            

A breeze trickled through the trees we’d come from and cascaded faint sparkles across the water, feathered the waves away from the shore. Briefly, the gray clouds pulled apart the fog, and pale sunlight touched Jude’s cheeks, drawing a smile from her lips. It seemed that, even in the darkest moments, she managed to find something to love. It made me jealous.            

Her eyes were closed. “At least you can still watch the sun rise.”]

[text ID: Point Blink was like a sponge – it inhaled and exhaled water. Soaked up all rain and laughter, cursing and screaming. Rotting at the core. Sometimes I imagined Sugarfell might drink up all of that water, fold over itself like a map, and all those memories would surface from the ground with new bodies. Hands, the sort that I dreamed of appearing from underneath my bed. The hands of something that is supposed to be forgotten. Point Blink rarely exhaled. It just held its breath. Jude wasn’t afraid of Point Blink. She wasn’t afraid to live in a place where the people slogged from shore to shore, sunburned and bored. She wasn’t afraid to be alone in a place where the other kids grew up without her. She wasn’t afraid to sing as she walked up the beach and into the trees.

[text ID: “Are you crying?” he asked. 

I hugged myself tight. “No.”            

Lonan wasn’t totally convinced, because he tilted his head and stared at me with his green-blue eyes for a long time. “You were about to.”

Lonan leaned into my shoulder. For a moment, I thought he might have been crying since he was the sort of person who cried whenever other people cried. Sometimes I think he is the rarest type of person in the world. I wished I could feel everything the way he did.

But he wasn’t crying – he was just resting against me. He was never going to be taller than me, so his head fit onto my shoulder perfectly. He could stay there for all of eternity if he wanted to.

And suddenly, all that darkness and thick air didn’t hang so heavy over me.]

[text ID: Lonan came to me all at once: we were dissolved into black. I tried running to the opposite side of the fire tower, but then there was no ground beneath me. We must not have been that far up, because it didn’t take long for the rest of the tower to collapse beneath us. There was something soft underneath me – my bag or Jude’s arm. I could not see the sky – then light exploded from the veil we were trapped in. Jude’s hand found mine. She was shouting. I couldn’t tell what she was saying. I dragged myself through the grass, now pasty with smoke, infiltrating my throat, my eyes, my head – everything. It softened the world, made it easier to forget, but no easier to breathe. Jude screamed – a sound I never should have heard – and it brought hot tears to my eyes. Distantly, someone else screamed. It might have been me, but I wasn’t sure. Sirens wailed somewhere. We never heard many of them in Point Blink. I smelled of salt and smoke. What a fool I’d been to believe it possible I could carry on without my best friends, and what a fool Jude had been to think she could replace them.]

If you’re all the way down here, thanks for reading! I sometimes post snippets from the book as I write under the tag #nothing in particular and everything

:)

#i have so much love left for this story but not the time to write it #updates probably won't happen too often #but i want to start posting more smaller snippets from time to time! #i love these characters a lot and i want to finish this third draft #it's just such a comfort #<3 #ray and lonan's friendship is so SOFT #agh #maybe ill post some more excerpts from their chapters next!! #my writing #nothing in particular and everything #creative writing #original story #writing #author

[monsoon-of-art]

Yay little mer snippet! Just a little thing as a break from Donut Hole. Probably won't post on ao3 (Edit I did lol)

Lost and Found

They didn’t see the storm coming.

Both clans knew the skies and the weather almost as much as they knew their watery home. They should've seen this storm coming days in advance.

But they didn't.

All they could do was hunker down in their settlements and pray to Almighty Sinnoh that their loved ones out at sea would return home safe.

Even deep inside their iceberg, Irida wanted nothing more than to curl up inside her den, like she did when she was a pup and a bad storm would roll over.

But as leader, she wanted to make sure her clan was safe first.

Thank Sinnoh, most of them were doing what she wanted to do; tucked away safe inside the many ice caves and dens they had made, little ones hiding under blankets and their relatives.

Lady Sneasler and Lord Ursaluna had plopped themselves down in the medical den with Calaba. Lord Kleavor and Avalugg would be safe under the waves, and Lord Arcanine…

Well, he didn't have to suffer this storm. It was a relief, in a strange, painful way.

Lady Sneasler yawned as Irida entered, without a care in the world. Lord Ursaluna barely even acknowledged her presence.

“Did everyone return to the settlement?” Irida asked.

Calaba let out a quiet, but still irritated, huff. “Palina has yet to return. Gaeric went out to retrieve her just as the storm hit.”

Of course. Since the passing of Lord Arcanine, Palina had been grieving away from others. She wanted solitude, as dangerous as that was, and Irida could respect it on some level.

But not in this weather.

And Irida truly respected Gaeric as her mentor and practically her brother, but he still struggled with empathy at the best of times.

“Right. Right. I'll go after them.” Irida decided, rubbing her cheeks and smoothing her whiskers, trying to not stress too much.

Palina and Gaeric were very, very good swimmers. She was positively certain she'd find them just outside the iceberg.

“Please be safe.” Calaba said as Lady Irida left.

Dipping into the frigid waters (for some, not that Irida was complaining), Irida was immediately hit with the turbulent, stormy sea.

With smaller storms, it was easy to hide under the waves. But with large storms like this? The currents would be thrown off kilter, the sediment on the sea floor would be dragged up, it was difficult for even the strongest of swimmers to keep their head on straight.

But Irida pressed on, weaving through the ice floats the best she could. Even through the dark waters she could see the flashes of lightning, hear the boom of thunder. 

This couldn't be a natural storm. This had to be from Almighty Sinnoh themself. Perhaps something had angered them. It was bound to be the false worship of the Diamond Clan.

(Little did she know, Lord Adaman was having the exact same thought.)

Just at the edge of the icy waters, where the glaciers were nothing more than floating bits of snow on the surface of the water, she found them.

“There you two are! This storm is too bad to be out!” Irida said as she rushed forward to greet them, unable to stop the worried tone in her voice.

“Blame her.” Replied Gaeric in a low rumble, narrowing his eyes at Palina.

“Oh? Oh? Blame me? Blame me for making sure Lord Arcanine’s only son and heir is safe in this storm? Yes! Yes, let's blame me!”

Irida loved these two like family. Siblings. Close as could be.

She would also love it if they could stop bickering for just one night.

“You two can fight about this later, inside the settlement.” she said, swimming behind to try and urge them forward. Irida had her fill of stormy weather for one night, thank you.

The three of them had barely started their trek home, when Palina spotted something lying at the bottom of the ocean. Thank Sinnoh that the waters were relatively shallow here, otherwise she never would've spotted it.

It was…a black and white….lump. 

“Wait…What…is that?” Palina asked quietly, finding herself slowly drifting down to investigate.

Gaeric turned, sounding confused. “What? No, we should go back. This storm is dangerous.”

As Irida began following her down, he grumbled under his breath, but reluctantly began to follow as well.

The three approached the mysterious object on the sea floor, and they all quickly realized that the black and white lump was big. Very big. 

“What…is it?” Asked Irida, glancing at Gaeric for guidance.

But he slowly shook his head. “I'm not…sure. Don't get too close. We don't know if this is a threat-”

His eyes narrowed as they approached, and for a brief moment, terror flashed across his face. Grabbing the two girls, he pulled them down to a rocky outcove to hide. “Orca, that is an Orca, stay down-” he hissed.

Palina did not do that, immediately slipping away to peek over the rocks. “Really? Just laying on the ground like that? That doesn’t seem very…Orca-Like.”

“You have the self preservation of a sea cucumber.” he growled. “I’ve seen Orcas, you haven’t. Get back down here!”

She crept a bit closer, sticking close to the rocks in case she needed to duck back down. “No…the shape is wrong. And I can see…fabric?”

Irida now poked her head above the rocks, much to Gaeric’s dismay. “...I think she’s right. I’m going in closer.”

“You two are going to die, and at your funeral I will tell everyone how stupid you were.”

Palina and Irida inched closer and closer, still remaining cautious as they approached. More details came into focus. There was a torso, head, arms, hands-

It was a merman, wearing strange striped garments, curled up and completely unconscious. The only signs of life came from the subtle twitch of his fingers.

“It’s not an Orca!” Palina said over her shoulder, “I-I think it's a merman? With Orca colors?”

That finally got Gaeric to take a look, swiftly coming over to join them, brows furrowed in thought. “I…don’t recognize him. He’s not one of us.”

“He’s not part of the Diamond Clan, either. He doesn’t have their colors or insignia…” added Irida with a frown. “Would he have come from a migratory pod?”

Gaeric shook his head. “There’s been no reports of pods like that. We haven’t had traveling pods of Orcas like him in years.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “...he could be an exile.”

The very word caused Irida to recoil and Palina to wince.

Exile was the worst punishment possible. Practically a death sentence, forcing a mer from their group to live on their own, to grow sick and weak and mad from the isolation. It was worse than a death sentence, only for the most heinous of crimes. Neither of the three there had ever seen it before, from their clan nor from the Diamond clan. A punishment spoken only in terrified whispers.

Palina shook her head. “No, no. You can’t just assume the worst like that. M-Maybe the storm swept him away from his pod? Maybe he got lost?”

She turned to Irida directly. “We can’t just leave him here. He’ll drown. He’ll die. I can’t handle another death on my conscious like this.”

“Irida, I have to object.” counted Gaeric, leaning over to try and block Irida’s view of Palina. “I cannot allow you to bring this stranger to our settlement. He could be a threat! He could be a murderer. What if he tries to eat the pups-”

“Gaeric!” Palina shouted, tugging on his hair and earning a pained yelp.”Stop assuming he’s an exile!”

“I didn’t say he was! But if he’s been alone for Sinnoh knows how long? Merfolk go crazy when they’re alone!”

Irida hummed in thought, glancing between the two and the unconscious merman.

Palina was right, if they didn’t do anything, the merman would die. He’d drown, and in a matter of time the crabs and eels would descend upon the corpse until there was nothing left.

Gaeric was right, they didn’t know this merman, they didn’t know how dangerous he was. This merman was big, too, much bigger than anyone at the settlement, he could overpower them if he wanted. He could be a danger.

The merman shifted slightly, and began making a low, rumbling croon. His face, even while unconscious, looked pained. 

He was calling for someone. Something. Anything.

And as the three waited with hesitation, nothing came.

“We’re taking him back.” Irida said with an air of finality. “Gaeric, help us carry him.”

“What?! I’m opposed to this! I’m the one who said we shouldn’t take him in, and you want me to carry him?! He’s probably heavy!”

“Oh, what?” Palina said, smug from having won, “Those muscles you’re so proud of are just for show, huh?”

He growled at her, a rumble low in his throat, but agreed. “Fine. Let’s carry this stranger back home.”

#pkm mer au

[kawaiikenna]

Angry Dragons are Never Good

AO3 link for anyone that’s interested. ^w^ Here’s the original prompt and posting if y’all want.

Danny could tell that he was destroying things and hurting people. His core aches at every person he can hear scream and building crashing down. He was clinging onto the barest sliver of sentience through the painfully blinding rage that burned in his chest and tore at his soul. His mind’s eye was hazy and he could only catch snippets of what was happening and what he was doing. Initially Danny had been in Amity but within the last…hour? He thinks it’s been an hour. But within that time he fled from his hometown and was now in the outskirts of a much larger city.

There were also people. At first they all ran away from him screaming. Good, that way he couldn’t accidentally hurt more than he had already. But soon after that a new group of people came. They threw weapons and shot guns at Danny’s gleaming white hide. No mortal weapon could harm him in this form. If anything, it just annoyed and aggravated him further, making him rampage more violently. More people came and tried to hurt Danny. Some of it worked, but most did not.

Danny struggled to keep conscious but once they started throwing magic at him it was a lost battle. The magic was hurting him and binding his wings. So he switched forms. Though still a dragon, his bright white scales became black as pitch and he felt gravity take a hold of him again. The attacking people didn’t stop. Instead they tried harder to hurt him. They bound his wings further, making it impossible to move them. They tethered him down to the earth. Muzzled him when he had tried to snap at a few of the people that approached. Now everything hurt and he just wanted it to stop. Just stop! Please, it hurts! It hurts! Stop, stop, stopstop STOP !

And suddenly it did.

The blazing rage receded and the cool balm of his core started working on healing his injuries. Danny felt himself start to shrink and become smaller, closer to his original size. The magic binding him tried to adapt to his sudden size change but instead of tightly holding and wrapping around him, it instead looped loosely around his much smaller body. And now that the rage and anger had completely vanished, anxiety and panic flooded through him. He had hurt people. Even if it wasn’t intentional he had hurt people. That went against every instinct that he had had from the moment his accident had happened.

Danny falls to the ground in a crumpled heap. He somewhat succeeds in sitting up. His first thought is that he’s back in Phantom form. His second thought immediately after that was to get the amulet off as soon as he possibly could. So he reaches towards his neck and pulls at the golden chain. The serpentine eye glinting in the low light of the polluted city. Almost as if it was maliciously mocking him.

It doesn’t budge. It’s not moving. Why isn’t it moving?

His panicked breathing hitches and picks up. His hands start to shake uncontrollably. He pulls again, this time trying to put as much strength into the gesture as possible. The cold metal chain only bites further into his skin.

No! Nononono, no! He has to get it off! He has to keep everyone safe and he isn’t safe with this thing clasped around his neck. He has to get it off. He has to get it off. He hAS TO GET-

An unfamiliar set of hands try to help him. Danny jerks out of their grasp. “NO!” Danny yells, his Wail tinged the word. It knocks back whoever was in front of him a few steps and rattles whatever debris around him. Tears are freely flowing down his face to drip to the ground or onto himself. When had he started crying?

The set of hands approach again and hover in front of the teen. Danny looks past the hands to see a bedraggled blond haired man in a rumpled trench coat with tired eyes. He’s saying something but Danny can’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. More tears well in the panicking teen’s eyes as he lets out a broken sob.

“I didn’t mean to hurt everyone! I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Danny harshly pulls at the golden chain around his throat. “I just want it off. I just want it off! But it won’t come off! Why won’t it come off?” Another sob wracked his body as Danny stops pulling at the amulet and just grasps it limply instead.

The man in the trench coat offers a hand and says something again. Danny still can’t understand what he’s saying, but the emotions he’s detecting are calm and reassuring. So he eyes the hand but doesn’t do anything other than sob brokenly and pull at the chain with less and less strength. And before he knows it the amulet drops from around his neck and lays uselessly in Danny’s hands and across his lap.

Utter relief floods through him. Then absolute terror before he throws the now broken amulet in a random direction and tries to get further away. Danny stumbles two steps before he runs face first into someone, therefore losing what balance he had. The person he ran into holds him up, gently supporting Danny to stand.

The teen’s blurred vision makes out a leather jacket and the color red. But there’s something soothing about this person. Something that sings safe to Danny’s distressed core. So the extremely exhausted teen winds his arms around a strong torso, grips fistfuls of leather, and fully collapses into this safe person. Not even a moment passes before Danny has slipped into the blissful realm of sleep and unconsciousness.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dc x dp #batman #dp #dc comics #jason todd #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #writing prompts #red hood #dp x dc crossover #john constantine #magical artifacts #dragon Danny #cross posted on ao3

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn��t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

#notfic #the near miss fics #one piece #shuggy #buggy #shanks #now if you’ll excuse me i’m going to sleep for a week #orz why is writing so easy at the beginning and so hard at the end

[laurfilijames]

All week I told myself that on Sunday, I was going to write all day.

I opened my laptop up for the first time in two weeks. I haven't written a word since I finished editing Expensive and tried for over an hour to work on my series Like My Dreams.

I thought about it all week and have been so eager to continue it, only the words won't come.

I know it's not for lack of passion or wanting to; I think about this story (and all the other ones) constantly.

I've been trying to deny some feelings for a while, or chalk it up to getting too much in my own head, but today it's come down heavier than ever and what is ultimately responsible for blocking my creativity and turning my love for my stories from thoughts into actual sentences.

I'm lonely.

I've never felt so alone.

The Charlie fandom seems to be relatively non existent, or just extremely quiet.

I have no space. No where I fit in.

I'm on the outskirts, trying to find a spot, constantly seeing if there is a way I can have a place for my ideas, stories, and even friendship, and have it hold some value to the others I'm around.

The more I post on here, the less I feel seen.

Engagement on this platform has reduced drastically across the board, and it's effecting so many artists.

It's not about numbers. I'm sure some of you are probably thinking "your last fic has over 100 notes". Yeah. It does. Almost all of those notes are likes, and more than half the reblogs are my own.

What I'm seeking is engagement. Conversation. A likeness and kinship started by a common interest that blooms into simple conversations and thoughts shared.

Comparison is a bitch. I see so many people living the Tumblr life I wish to have. Asks, comments, reblogs of teasers and moodboards for upcoming fics screaming of excitement and praise and how eager they are to read it. People dropping everything they're doing to read the latest chapter of their friend's new fic.

I realize the many reasons why I'm in a different position than they are, but lately it's been screaming at me louder than ever that I'm lacking something meaningful or whatever I'm doing on here isn't enough.

I've tried creating a buzz around my stories. I am aware that most of the time I write for unpopular characters with a smaller fan base, so I set the bar lower but am still left feeling inadequate even when I write for the popular ones. Whenever I've shared snippets of WIPs in hopes to gain some excitement from my readers, it falls short. Usually it'll inspire me to keep going, to write better than ever and make this next fic The Best One that makes me so happy and excited to get out. (For Charlie, I'll say, and write something I'm so unbelievably proud of) and then sometimes it makes me wonder if I should bother continuing at all.

I know I am not owed anything by anyone and no one is obligated to read or comment or anything of the sort, and I am beyond grateful for the comments and support I do receive, and the friendships I've made, old and new.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting at here, I just needed to write it down and "talk" it out.

I've been battling the decision to continue writing but not share it. I don't want that to happen, because as much as I write these stories for myself, a lot of the fun of it comes from being able to share it with all of you.

Nothing dramatic is happening. I'm not leaving, and I will be writing again because I'm not at all done with what I have to say about these characters, I just felt this needed to be said and already feel a little lighter by sharing it.

Write your stories, comment on your favourite fics, scream with your mutuals about a photo or gif that inspired something in you, tell your writer friends and writers you've never spoken to but love their stories just how much you do... I promise it makes more of an impact than you know. 💗

#personal

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

omega!Clark and hungry!Kon

gentle princely caretaking

the wet nurse omegaverse

trans Clark and cis Kon

weird Kryptonian bonding rituals

snippet from "omega!Clark and hungry!Kon":

Jon peeks out of his room down the hall, looking intrigued, and lights up at the sight of the chocolate chips and the big bowl Clark always uses for pancake batter. Clark smiles at him, and he scurries down the hall and into the kitchen. Clark asks him to set the table, and he does. He also steals a significant percentage of the chocolate chips, but Clark accepts that loss as pup-induced taxation. 

Lois's alarm goes off after Jon’s gotten out all the necessary dishes and Clark’s gotten the pans heating up, and she trudges sleepily out of their bedroom. Clark passes her a mug of the coffee he started as soon as he got up himself, and she makes a mumbly noise that he knows her well enough to translate as "I love you beyond all existence and where's the sugar". 

He passes her the sugar and leans down to kiss her cheek. She turns her face into his throat and bites his scent gland a little harder than happens to be decent in front of either of their pups, but given the invulnerability just feels like a chaste little nibble. Clark gives her a soft purr of appreciation and Jon sticks out his tongue at them as he finishes setting the table. 

"Grosssss," he says, making a face. "Don't be all mushy, we haven't even eaten yet!” 

“I’m afraid we can’t promise that, kiddo,” Lois says, then yawns against Clark’s throat before taking her coffee to the table. Clark gets the bacon in the frying pan and starts carefully pouring pancake batter, and Jon drops into his usual seat at the table. Lois makes sleepy noises into her coffee. 

“How many pancakes, Jonno?” Clark asks. 

“Ten,” Jon says immediately, holding up both hands with a charming little grin. Lois snorts. 

“Maybe if they’re very, very small,” she says wryly. “Baby pancakes. Infants. Tiny little dollops.” 

“No way, I want big ones!” Jon says. Admittedly they do have a higher than human metabolism–Clark does not think of Kon’s too-thin wrists–but ten full-size pancakes is probably still pushing it. 

“Maybe we’ll start a little smaller and work our way up,” Clark says, amused anyway. Jon pouts. Kon comes out of his own room already dressed and ready and sits down quietly at the table too, and Jon immediately brightens back up. 

"Hi, Kon!" he greets excitedly. Kon always seems to wait to come out last, and Clark's never figured out why. He’s not even sure the kid even wears his pajamas, or if he just sleeps in his clothes. He never sees him in anything but the clothes he wears to school and his Superboy suit and jacket. “Mom’s making pancakes!” 

“Sure,” Kon says. He obviously knew that, of course, given his enhanced senses and also the very obvious process that is Clark pouring pancake batter into a pan, but Jon’s clearly too excited to have thought that one through. Clark doesn’t comment either way, just smiles at Kon. 

“Morning, Kon,” he says. “How many pancakes would you like?” 

“Whatever’s fine,” Kon says, visibly repressing the urge to fidget in his seat. Clark hates that answer almost as much as the sight of his too-sharp face and those too-thin wrists and how close to stray he smells. 

“Three to start?” he suggests. 

“Sure,” Kon says. Clark can’t call it a victory, but at least it’s an answer.

#meme #omegaverse #wip wednesday #wip: omega!clark and hungry!kon #long post

[blacksapphhicmaddonna]

CHAPTER ONE - WHAT I HAVE TO DO.

a/n: hey y'all! so, I tried to post this in response to the anon who asked for a snippet but I saved it as a draft and Tumblr ate it😭 SO THIS IS DEDICATED TO YOU, ANON, WHOEVER YOU ARE!! sorry babes!💔💖💖💖💖

its been a minute since I've written anything fully, this was fun!!! as always, please ignore any grammar/syntax/spelling. I proof read it but you feel me. I'm super excited to be writing something so long and multi chaptered and definitely out of my comfort zone! am I an action girly now? LMFAO but anyway, I'm super open to any feedback and 👀 as always, if you wanna see sum, say sum.

anyway, I love my science gays and I will stan shuriri forever. this is pretty much all angst at this point❤️‍🩹, but I truly hope you enjoy LMFAOOO. lmk how you feel.💗 (and yes, I love a good flashback real bad and ima do it every time if I can. not too much on me LMFAO)

✮ taglist: @mybonafidefeelings@zeezeecave@gr00vyminibus@lppriceisright@darkangelchronicles@princessmel-1995@xenaizogie@nanii2x, and tagging a few folks that enjoyed the sneak peak and a few shuriri/shuri/riri folks who might! @karimwillia @inmyheadimobsessed@mal-urameshi@somethingcleaverandwhitty@imjusthere2readbruv@imagineandwrite there's more but my computer glitching so we gonna get this show on the road! lmk if you'd like to join the taglist or check the link in my tagged post! love y'all, muah

✮ word count: 11,193

✮ panther divider: @firefly-graphics

✮ some of the xhosa translations are from @iinkonde! here's where you can find some of their amazing resources: 1 2 3

Shuri paced the room that seemed to be growing smaller by the millisecond around her, searching for something - anything - inside of the brain most people considered the smartest in the universe to offer the scientist in front of her. She found nothing but the desperation she had been pushing down since the moment they met.

A desperation that mirrored the effects of the herb she had reproduced, also made from the desperation to save something that she felt was slipping through her fingers at the time. Just like the herb had found its way through her body when she first took it, this feeling spread from her throat as she choked when their eyes met as she pushed herself into the dorm room she was once again standing in. Down to her chest, pulling heart strings she didn’t know she had. Plucking them in a rhythm that felt intrinsic, ancestral, almost painful in the way that they made everything feel superimposed. She resisted, but she felt her toes and she felt her finger tips and she felt the curls framing her face dance above her eyes ever so gently. It spread through every atom that comprised the panther and she could barely breathe. She felt everything and she felt nothing, like she was sinking in an ocean of clouds. She could barely look at the woman who was staring back at her with a look of confusion, and an equal desperation that she couldn't explain.

Shuri still had nothing to offer in terms of speech. She paced at a speed that had only just registered as super fucking fast, clearly adding to the concern building in Riri's eyes.

"Shuri-" Riri started, but couldn't even try to finish as her voice had triggered the awaiting and building eruption in Shuri that it always did. Riri, if she did anything to Shuri, she made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling.

"Anything you want, just name it. It's yours. I'll make it happen. I'll build it myself. Just please don't do this. Please." Shuri froze in her place, finding herself begging for something she couldn't explain. She knew she was almost yelling at the other woman, which she would never do but she couldn't find the part of her that could compose herself. She was thankful for the kimoyo beads she had scattered in the room when she entered, enabling a silencing mode and cutting through anything that the government had tapped in Riri's room.

Riri froze too, only moving to fumble with her fingers nervously. She didn't have anything to offer the panther, the queen standing in front of her. She didn't have anything to comfort her friend. The woman she loved more than she could explain. More than almost anything. 

"I don't... I don't want anything from you, Shuri... We both knew this day was coming. You had to have thought about it. I thought you were.. I don’t know... It almost felt like-"

"Please, Ri. Please. Just find something and I'll do it. I'll make it myself if I have to. Please just find something else."

"I don't want... I don't understand, Shuri. We only talked about this like twice, I didn't even think you cared that much or even had time to care about it... or me, really. Just... lets just sit down for a second." Riri tried to redirect, trying to give herself time to figure out what was going on. She felt her mind trying to run back through memories and conversations the two had shared in the past year and some change, but it was few and far between that they ever really had time to talk about their lives in depth lately. At first, they talked a lot after they had finally reconnected. They had even spent a few nights together. But lately, Shuri had been working a lot and it seemed like their connection was running dry. Riri had shared her plans a few months ago and hadn't really heard much back from the woman standing in front of her looking like she was fighting a battle she wasn't sure she'd win. Riri had committed herself to this, to showing up and doing what she felt she needed to do to make up for all the ruin she had caused - or at least what she thinks she caused. And now Shuri was trying to offer her a chance out of it. She didn't know what to do or what to think. That's something she felt often with the panther, she figured out. She had zoned out for only a split second before Shuri was grabbing her wrists and looking in her eyes.

"Riri, I'm begging you." Shuri stared into the Iron Heart's eyes, searching for something she knew she was missing. Something she needed the way she needed air, she felt. Riri searched back, trying to decipher something Shuri wasn't ready to let her see.

"Shuri, you know I feel responsible... But, I just.. I don't understand what's going on. What's wrong? Please just talk to me. It's okay." Riri tried to pull them closer, tried to grab the Panther's hand but her grip was too tight around her wrists. Shuri relaxed it, she hadn't intentionally been holding on so tight but she wasn't ready to let go. She's never been ready to let go of who she loves. She saw that same resolute look in Riri's eyes that was always there when she was sure about something. It broke something in Shuri that she knew she couldn't mend on her own. One final try, she told herself.

"I will give you anything under the sun. Please just don't go to them. Don’t go to him. I- I know you're trying to help and change things for the better, and you will. But not like this. Not until it's safe. He will find you, Riri. He will do anything to get to you and to get back at me. You know this and you still choose to go? You don’t have to make this easy for him. We can figure this out a different way. Please. I will give you access to all the technology Wakanda has to offer, just please find something else to focus on, to take place of this. Please."

Riri tried to pull her closer again but the panther moved back, sending a shiver of rejection up Riri's spine.

"I don't want anything from you, Shuri... I just want you. I- I mean I just want you to-"

Shuri felt her body getting hot and somehow freezing at the same time. Riri just wanted her? But she also wanted to go on this suicide mission, which is what it was regardless of what Riri thought of it. She fought back the defensiveness she felt crawling up her throat like it always did when she was hurt. She didn't want to lash out on Riri, she only wanted to protect her. She only wanted her to be safe, alive. She only wanted her. But it was to no avail. She felt the ferocious beast pull itself through her. She scorned herself as her words burned their way through her skin, landing on Riri's.

"You just want whatever you want. You just want to fight whatever moral war you have going on because you're the one who survived! You would give up your life for what? For who? Not for my mother! Not for me!"

Riri hadn't noticed the tears stinging down her cheeks until she saw the ones pouring out of Shuri's. It was something she had never seen before. She had seen Shuri lash out, though. She knew this was just the first wall of defense the panther had when she felt hurt, afraid, abandoned. She couldn't take this personally, though she had to fight back the sting of the words as they came at her. She reached out to try and touch the woman in front of her.

"Shuri, please. Let's just ta-"

"What?! Sit and talk? For what? For you to tell me again why you have to do this, why you have to go and die? Do you care so little for me? For yourself?"

"You know that's not true!"

"Why wouldn't it be true?! Ungayenza njani le nto kum!?"

"Please just listen to me! I don't know what's going on but we can talk about it! I'm right here, I'm right here!"

"But you won't be after this! You don't have to do this! Just let me try, let me show you that there's other things to give you purpose, there’s other ways we can handle this! PLEASE!" Shuri felt herself starting to cave in, her chest becoming a cavern filled with the screams of the orphaned girl inside of her. The girl who needed her family. The girl who couldn't save her brother. The girl who was held back from her mother as she drowned. The woman who loves women, specifically the woman in front of her who was planning to give herself up. She couldn't keep it together. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

"That's not for you to decide, Shuri!" Riri shot back, starting to feel the same layer of armor pull itself over her. She didn't like being yelled at. It triggered something in her that she herself had pushed back as far as it would go. She just needed to get Shuri to listen to her.

"I don't care! You can't do this Riri!"

"Please stop yelling at me!" Riri gave in, covering her ears and turning her back to the panther, who felt herself go still. She hadn't meant to unleash this part of herself. She felt embarrassment mixing with her desperation, afraid she had only made things worse. Who was she to be trying to control the actions of a woman she only met a little over a year ago? Who she was just friends with, and barely that if you based it off what normal friendships looked like. They rarely even spoke for longer than a few minutes every couple days and that wasn’t even true anymore. Shuri scorned herself for the time she hadn’t spent with her, for the time she had been forced to spend trying to fix, defend or save her country. She resented her royal blood now more than ever, wishing she could be nothing more than a girl again. Maybe a student. Maybe just different. Shuri felt herself starting to crack, she felt like she would disintegrate if she stood there any longer. She had done enough damage. She and Wakanda and the Talokan had put Riri through enough and she knew that. She could see why Riri would think this guilt was hers to bare but Shuri knew better, knew more secrets. She knew that her father and his father and so on hadn’t handled things right, and no matter the good T’Challa had tried to do - maybe he didn’t do it right either. So now it laid in her hands, forced once again to stand in the way of something she wasn’t ready for. She felt bad for herself, but she felt worse for Riri. She wishes she had never sent her home with the beads, that they had never touched hands, that they had never even met. Maybe if no one ever knew about Vibranium, no one would be trying to take it. Or maybe if the world had always known, if her ancestors had done things differently, this wouldn’t be Riri’s life. She was part of the lost tribe, as N’Jadaka would call it. Maybe he was right. She didn’t know what to think, but she also knew who she was, herself. She was the most powerful person on the surface world and she was the Queen of the most powerful nation in the world. And she was in love, helplessly, with Riri Williams. She would not let her go again.

"I am sorry for coming here and making you upset." Shuri said blankly, masking any emotions she had just shattered into the room as best as she could to regain any self control she had left.

Riri turned around, tears still swelling in her eyes. She hiccuped and it made Shuri's heart pound.

"I-it's okay. I just don't like b-being yelled at. Can we just sit and talk?"

Shuri nodded, knowing Riri needed a minute. Riri turned to grab a blanket off her bed to wrap herself in as she took a seat on the floor in front of her bed. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before motioning to Shuri to sit next to her. Shuri stared at her for a moment too long, before kneeling down next to her. They sat in silence that wasn't comfortable for the first time in a long time. Neither missed this feeling, the feeling of such uncertainty between them. Sure, it was always there, biting at the backs of their minds and hearts. But they had both worked hard to be comfortable with just having what they had. But now more than ever, neither was sure what was really going on. Shuri mirrored Riri, taking a few deep breaths. Riri felt herself relax, misreading the quiet sigh Shuri let out.

"Are we okay? I don't want us to fight. I just... need you to help me understand why you're so upset. It didn't seem like you even really cared about this. I know you've been busy with what you have going on so I just figured this... I.. wasn't really on your radar anymore."

Shuri stayed silent, fighting that feeling nudging her.

"Please say something." Riri pleaded quietly after a few too many more moments of silence. She couldn't stand it. Neither could Shuri. She needed to escape. Get out of the room, out of America. She needed to run and scream and break something. She needed to kill Namor. That was her only option, once again. She knew it would come. She knew the fate of her country would be in the air again, and part of her knew she shouldn’t do it. Equal parts yes and no. Blood on either hand, regardless of what choice she made. But she also knew that Riri's life was once again in question and there was only one answer Shuri would accept. She would deal with the aftermath the same way she had been. She would accept whatever came. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly, that maybe she would be exiled or worse, but she also knew she couldn't live with herself if Riri wasn't alive tomorrow, and that was enough for her right now. If Riri wouldn't listen, then there was only one choice.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Riri. It won't ever happen again."

Riri was startled at the sincerity in the Panther's voice. She was confused why that was what Shuri felt she had to focus on in the midst of whatever the hell was going on.

"It's okay, I promise. I'm not mad at you for yelling at me. I'm just confused..."

"It's not okay. This, whatever you're planning, whatever he's planning... None of this is okay." Shuri said, pinching between her eyes as she tried to swallow the same beast from just a few minutes ago.

"Shuri... it's not like before. It's not about him. It's not even just about what happened in Wakanda. You know I'm Iron Heart. You knew I was going to start doing these things at some point. Missions that weren’t just flying around Chicago and Boston stopping robberies. And you know that something has to be done. And I can’t let this go on again when we all know it’s my fault.” Riri sighed. “We all know it is. So, please just try to hear me..."

"I have always heard you, Riri."

Riri digested that sentence with a gulp. She replied after a moment.

"Then let me hear you, for once. Tell me why you're here. Tell me why you're reacting like this. Tell me who you are and what you're feeling. Let me in, Shuri." She said, reaching out to grab Shuri's hand again. The Panther's hand was hot, almost burning. She didn't pull away this time.

"I'm here because I lo-.. Because I won't let this happen." Shuri caught herself before she said something she couldn't explain. Riri looked into Shuri's eyes with a pleading, less sure look. Shuri couldn't hold it this time. She couldn't freeze. She couldn't tell Riri. She reminded herself what happens every time she loves someone. She reminded herself of what she was capable of and what needed to be done. Regardless if Riri ever shared her feelings or not, she would swear her life to protecting the woman until the day she met the ancestors and maybe after if she could. She would do whatever it took, every time, no matter what, she resigned to herself. She squeezed Riri's hand.

"What're you gonna do? Lock me in my room, Shuri? I don't get what's going on!" Riri pleaded.

"I would never. You are not a prisoner or someone I want to control. You are free to do as you please, just as I am. Please understand that much."

"What does that mean... Wait, please don't go!" Riri tugged back at Shuri's hand again as the Panther got up to leave. Shuri looked down at their hands touching, taking in every second that their skin touched. She remembered what it felt like to reconnect after a long time apart. She wishes she could live in it like she had before. She brought their foreheads together and closed her eyes.

"I will protect you with every part of me. The cost will never be too much."

"Shuri, please don't do what I think you're about to do..." Riri pulled Shuri's hands into hers and brought them to the sides of their faces. They were so close they could feel each other's breath on their lips. Riri prayed in her head that Shuri would listen to her, knowing the strength and power the woman in front of her wielded. Shuri choked out a pained laugh before kissing Riri's forehead and pulling away, taking in the scent of Ghanian Shea Butter and the sweet scent Riri always had.

"Andizukuphulukana nawe. Impilo yami ngeke ibe lutho ngaphandle kwakho, Riri Williams."

Before Riri could open her eyes, the Black Panther was gone, the sound of a closing door shaking Riri to her core. She felt like she was in shock, having nothing to do but curl into a ball and pull the blanket around her body, covering her face as she let the rest of the tears fall silently. She laid there for what felt like an eternity until she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Miss Williams?" Riri jumped up, running around her room tracking down the voice. She picked up a purple and black kimoyo bead and held it up, suddenly seeing several others connect like magnets from across the other corners of the room.

"Griot?!" Riri both yelled and whispered.

"Hello, Miss Williams. Are you feeling alright?" Griot asked as the AI began taking a scan of her body to check her vitals.

"I've been better... what's going on? Why are you here? Not that it's not nice to... well you get what I mean!"

"It seems you have suffered a panic attack of sorts. Please get some water and take a seat before I proceed."

Riri rolled her eyes with a tired huff, giving in because she knew Griot wouldn't budge until she obliged. She grabbed a half empty bottle of water from her desk and sat back down near her bed, pulling the blanket up around her. She suddenly felt the absence of Shuri in her space and fought back the tears threatening to make way through her as she pulled the bracelet on, watching it activate. She had felt this way before, but it was different now.

"Feeling better, Miss Williams?"

"Just Riri is fine, and I guess. Can you explain what's going on now, please Griot?"

"Yes, Miss Riri." Griot replied as a hologram of Stark Tech floated in front of the scientist. She felt even more confused.

"Why are you showing me Stark Tech?"

"The panther has created and assigned your own AI for you, it's name is VIV. It is nearly identical to the JARVIS, or Vision, that Tony Stark had. It has been being developed for over a year, and seems to have just finished."

"What the fu-"

"The Panther also has an updated version of your vibranium Iron Heart suit on it's way to your lab location, or garage currently. She has given you access to me as well, with some restrictions. She has instructed me to inform you of this when the AI download is complete."

Riri sat in even more shock than she was in before. She was even more confused about Shuri's intentions now. More confused about her feelings, than anything. She replayed the words the panther had said to her before she left, she knew some Xhosa but it wasn’t great. 

"Can you translate what Shuri said to me in Xhosa before she left, Griot?" Riri asked, hoping for some clarity. Griot calculated for a moment, before answering.

"It would seem I am not permitted to complete that task at this time, Miss Riri."

Riri felt a pang of frustration rise in her, as she let out a laugh.

"Of course not... Can you tell me where the panther is right now?"

Griot took a moment again before answering.

"The Queen was on her way back towards Wakanda as of her last status, but it would seem she has powered off her location devices. Would you like me to contact her for you?"

Riri sat for a moment, considering her options and her own feelings.

"No, that's alright Griot. We're going to my lab. Can you help me boot up VIV when we get there? We're going on a trip."

"As you wish, Miss Riri."

Riri stood up, grabbing a hoodie and sliding on some J's. Before she walked out the door, she slid on the kimoyo beads and asked a final question.

"Oh, one last thing Griot. Can you turn on privacy mode? I would like my location hidden from everyone, including the Panther. Can you do that?"

"It seems I can, but I would not advise that action Miss Riri. There are safety protocols in place that the Panther can activate for you remotely."

"That's fine, just turn it on. I have my own safety protocols."

"As you wish, Miss Riri."

"Thank you, Griot."

Riri made her way to her garage in no time, paying no mind to the world around her or the messages on her phone from MJ about their project. When she got there, she did decide to shoot her a quick text explaining that she was heading home to Chicago for a family emergency, that MJ could find her portion already done on a small drive in her room and that she had permission to break in, and that she would make it up to her later. MJ did reply, but Riri didn’t have time for that. She got to work, with the help of Griot, or the portion of him that she was allowed to operate, and booted up her own AI and implemented it into her nano suit. The one from wakanda was on its way but wouldn’t be there in time. Thankfully, she didn’t have to meet with Namor for another day and a half. She needed to think quickly but after working everything out with her suit, she was unsure where to go from there. 

“Griot, can I use both you and VIV?” 

“Yes, but you likely will not need me once the AI is turned on. I will be there when you need me, though Miss Riri.”

“Thank you Griot.” Riri smiled to herself, always fond of Griot and their robot voice. It made her think about the time she spent in the lab with Shuri, where they would borderline argue and Riri would laugh at them. This brought back that pang in her stomach and chest. She got to work on turning on and engaging with the AI so that it could mold to her needs, voice and patterns. After about an hour, she felt ready to head off. Except she had no idea how to get to Wakanda, let alone how to get in. She ruffled through her bookbag to find the information Namor had sent for her. A small teal envelope with her name on it, looking like it was written with a quill and ink. She shuddered at the thought of how old this man was and how intentional he had been to get this note to her. She opened it and read over it again, hoping to find more information than last time. Then, an idea came to mind.

“Hey VIV, and Griot, not that I don’t think you can handle it by yourself VIV. But uh, can you both scan this for me? I don’t have my Black light. Look for anything and everything. Cross reference what you find, if anything. Please.” 

“Yes IronHeart.” “Yes, Miss Riri.” They both answered in tandem. While they got to work, Riri sat down finally to think about what she could do. She couldn’t exactly call up the avengers to help her figure this out. She had to be lowkey, she had to be smart, and she needed it to work. She had only been to Wakanda once, and wasn’t really in the know about how to travel there let alone get through the border forcefield. As she went over all she did know, trying to remember any details that would help, the AI duo alerted her. 

Griot speaking first, since VIV seemed to sense a deeper trust from the IronHeart’s patterns. 

“There are markings on the back that would indicate a geolocation where Namor would like you to meet.”

“So, coordinates? I can work with that.” Riri said out loud, still trying to figure out exactly how she could work with that. Until she looked over at her father’s red car, in pristine condition thanks to Shuri. And it dawned on her. 

“Griot, do you have contact information for anybody besides Shuri?”

“I have contact information for Queen Shuri, and Okoye, former general of the Dora Milage.”

“Perfect. Please contact her now.”

“Yes, Miss Riri.”

“Wait, before you do, please transfer this contact information over to VIV. I’m not sure if Shuri knows that I have VIV yet, but in case she does, I don’t doubt that she would shut you down.” Riri explains to her favorite robot as if they needed it. Griot complied and sent a call out to Okoye.

Riri waited, holding her breath. She wasn’t sure is Okoye would answer, or even be willing to help. But this is what she had to work with. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Okoye answered.

“Small girl. Is everything alright?” Okoye answered seeming cheerful enough to hear from the girl but not without worry for the cause. Riri took a deep breath and explained the situation, truthfully, to the best of her ability. Somehow, as a surprise to both of them, Okoye was on her way in a matter of minutes as a Midnight Angel, with a jet that Shuri had let her keep. They both knew Shuri would be upset, but somehow it didn’t matter enough to let her get to Namor. They both knew what could happen, and what Shuri would likely do. 

No time was wasted when Okoye arrived, Riri running in the open hatch as fast as she could. Okoye pulled off without a trace, both of them hoping they hadn’t alerted any American law enforcement this time.

Okoye charted course for Wakanda and they both sat in near silence for most of the ride, only sharing a few words when Riri boarded, Riri showing Okoye the letter before she began piloting. They would make it in time. Riri sat near the back, not feeling like she belonged at the mantle of the machine. She had always liked these, having begged Shuri to teach her how to fly one before they set off for war. Riri sunk into her feelings that she had been trying to keep at bay since finding out about the AI. Before Shuri came, she honestly really wasn’t sure what she was going to do or how she was going to do it. But it seemed like the timing would suggest that she was supposed to, whether she really wanted to believe that or not. She didn’t want to believe that she was this horrible monster who brought death and destruction with her everywhere she went, but sometimes she really did. She tried to fight those thoughts back and began to feel the weight of her body, sinking into the seat. Sinking was a familiar feeling to her. She tried to remember how to swim in her own thoughts. She remembered how Shuri would talk her through her episodes. How she would call right away when she sensed anything off, even if Riri wasn’t wearing her beads. She remembered how it felt to think everything would be okay, and how often that was proved to be untrue. 

It was too easy to remember. Too easy to feel like it was just yesterday. Riri couldn't keep her mind from wandering back in time while the Wakandan jet made its way through the air. Trying to focus on anything else, trying to pay attention to the Dora silently flying or guarding the exit, trying to watch the sky around her. Anything. She couldn't bite down hard enough on the inside of her cheek, leaving a sore mark wasn't enough to keep her mind from its current occupation. 

"What are you doing here?!" The shorter of the two screamed, almost screeched as she ran into the panther's arms. 

"I had some time to myself finally. Where else would I go?" Shuri chuckled as she picked the scientist up. 

"You could literally go anywhere in the world and probably... out of the world? At this point with Wakandan tech." Riri explained, seriously, as she hung onto the slim but toned body holding her off the ground with ease, not realizing she was holding on as tight as she was. Not realizing there was nowhere else Shuri would have gone. Nowhere. 

"You're so... anyway, what should we do?"

"How long do we have?" Riri asked as she pulled back, not even trying to contain her wide grin that was plastered across her face. Shuri recorded it to memory, as she always did with the smaller woman's features. 

"96 hours. Well, 96-ish, less now that we've been standing here debating where I could've gone." Shuri jokes as she lets go, making sure Riri found her footing. 

"Shut up! Four days?! We have so much to do!" Riri definitely screeched this time, pretending to slap Shuri's arm. Fighting the urge to grab it and pull her in, Shuri picks up Riri's book bag from where she dropped it and places it in her desk chair as she walks to the bed and pulls her own bag out from under the bed.

"Exactly how long have you been here? You seem comfortable." Riri jokes as she grabs two waters from her mini fridge and hops up on her bed. 

"I am." Shuri chuckles at the sight of the shorter woman having to jump to get on the bed. "And since your first class."

"Are you serious?! Why didn't you say anything dickhead?!" 

"Ouch!" Shuri feigns pain as she catches the pillow Riri throws at her head and plops on the bed next to her. "I had a few things to handle, and needed to secure the dorm building. I didn't want to disrupt your day, I know midterms are coming up no?"

"Yeah, they are but you could've let a bitch know! I would've cleaned!" Riri states, noticing that she sounds much like her mother. 

"I like your mess." Shuri smiles. 

"Shut up. How did you secure the whole dorm building?"

"Well, I hope you don't mind. I have beads in every corner of the building. And a few around campus as well. Including in here. Is that alright with you?"

"Sheesh. Do I have a choice?" Riri jokes, but Shuri nervously answers.

"Yes of course! If it's not comfortable for you, I can sleep at a hotel. I should've asked, I'm sorry about that. Next time I'll-"

"There's a next time too?"

"Well, if you'd li-"

"Are you crazy?! Of course! And yeah yeah, that's all fine with me. I get it. Don't start worrying about it or nun. I was just curious."

Shuri's smile returns and she relaxes back into the bed. It was oddly comfortable, being that the last time she was here was before the war. Sure, they'd been talking for months over facetimes and calls. And texts. And letters.. oddly, but not to them. They were both truly as desperate as they felt, but excused it since it seemed mutual - opting to call it a mutual interest in friendship, as opposed to what it really was in the bigger picture. And sure, they had seen each other one other time, but it was so brief that it shouldn't really count - although it did, to both of them. 

Shuri had arrived at an American event in Boston, forced to show face by the elders after the uproar surrounding her mother and everything. She felt it was too soon and didn't make sense to attend a tech gala when none of it was even touching Wakandan tech. But regardless, she put on her best suit and went, disregarding the elder's request for her to wear traditional royal attire. She sat there, wishing she hadn't come, while big investors droned on. The only part that peaked her interest was listening to the stories of young inventors. They reminded her of herself, so excited and in a hurry. They reminded her of someone else too. Someone she had been longing to see since she left Wakanda only a few months ago at the time. 

Shuri muddled around the thought of calling Riri, or just showing up at her dorm. She knew she had responsibilities to attend to the next afternoon after she returned home, and it really hadn't been that long. Maybe Riri wasn't ready to see her yet? Or maybe she never would be. Or maybe Shuri had really made their connection up in her own mind. Or maybe she didn't? And maybe she should just call her, or maybe send her a quick text to keep it more casual? Keep what, casual exactly? She wasn't sure. She paced around her own mind anxiously the entire night, not realizing it was her turn to speak until the Doras were next to her asking if she was alright. She collected herself and headed to the stage, performing a speech much like her brother had about the importance of innovation, supporting the youth - especially the Black and Brown youth, etc. She meant what she said but she hardly felt as connected or present with it as she was when she wrote it. Still circling her mind was her favorite innovator, the scientist who made everything make sense to her. Pining so badly, by the end of her speech she had resolved to call Riri. Faking her smiles through the eruption of clapping and handshakes as she left the stage, she made her way back to her seat while the closing speech began - only to lose her resolve when Ayo bent down to whisper a reminder of their exit plan and their intended arrival time back in Wakanda. 

She had known it was a foolish thought. Who even knew what the small scientist would be doing at this time? She could be working, studying, partying. God, Shuri hoped not but recoiled at her own thoughts. She wasn't heteronormative and she wasn't the toxic type. She just also felt jealous of anybody and anything that got to be around Riri when she wasn't. Which was most times. Essentially all the time. Really, she reasoned with herself, she had only been around Riri for a few days and it had been against her will anyway. Maybe she really was making all of this up in her head. 

The Queen of Wakanda continued her mental pace as she made her exit, later than most guests and certainly not from the front entrance. She walked through the beautiful building with the Doras who were talking amongst themselves about logistics, seemingly all having caught onto another one of Shuri's "moods". Shuri paid them no mind, as they expected, while she began brooding. What was the point of coming to America, aside from like... the actual point, politically - if not to see her scientist? She caught herself scoffing at "her scientist", making fun of herself in her head as they headed outside and around the back when the Doras suddenly stood alert around her. Shuri looked around her and back at her beads quickly, doing a quick scan of their surroundings, only to hear a small, out of breath "Hey" from her left.

"Williams?"

"Yeah, yeah.. haha. Hoo. Crazy catching you here." Riri joked awkwardly as she tried to catch her breath from clearing having run.

"Yes, well I was-"

"Giving a speech. I saw on tv. Just happened to be in the neighborhood myself so I figured I'd uh, say hi." Riri cut the Panther off as she caught her bearings and finally made eye contact. Shuri made contact back, silently signaling for the Dora to drop their guard. Ayo looked between them but of course followed command. Shuri stepped between them and closer to the scientist, who was now twiddling her fingers and looking anywhere but at Shuri. Just like she did in Wakanda. Just like Shuri had replayed in her head a billion times over. While Shuri took the absence of eye contact as a chance to damn near gawk at the smaller woman, Riri was doing her own mental laps. 

She also questioned her intentions and if she had been making this all up. She also questioned how crazy she must look, showing up here like this. She couldn't stop herself, leaving MJ, Peter and Ned in her OWN room after they had been flipping through channels and Riri caught a glimpse. That was all it took, one, maybe two seconds and she was out the door. And granted, she kind of was in the neighborhood. If you consider being four miles away in the neighborhood. She had considered grabbing her car from the garage but figured it would take too long, so she jumped in her nano suit her and Peter had been working on (that definitely still needed some work), and flew over. Of course she couldn't land in front of everyone, so she landed in a park a few blocks away and took off on foot. None of which she will EVER tell anybody, although she could barely remember her excuse to the three friends she left in her dorm as she forced herself to look back up and meet Shuri's eyes. 

"In the neighborhood?"

"You could say that." Riri joked awkwardly again.

This made Shuri laugh. Riri had that effect on her, she had learned during their late night lab sessions. Even in the midst of the grimmest of days and a literal war, Riri had Shuri laughing so hard she cried a few times. They both seemed to be thinking back while they laughed together and smiled at each other shyly until Ayo cleared her throat. 

"We must get going, Kumkanikazi." Both women seemed to jump a bit, having been pulled out of their staring contest. Riri shuddered at hearing Shuri be called that, she recognized it from when Okoye would speak about Queen Ramonda. She had done her best to pick up on as much of the language as she could when she was there, for some reason unknown to her - she just figured it would come in handy. But now, hearing it and knowing it meant Queen, shook her to her core. She remembered why she hadn't reached out, the guilt that sat in her bones about it. She nearly turned on her heels until she heard Shuri speak. 

"One moment please."

"My Queen, we really must-" Ayo begun speaking in Xhosa but was cut off by the Panther Queen. 

"Please. One moment." Shuri said, a command but almost begging, not turning to face the general one step to the side of her. She pulled at the necklace around her neck and Ayo nodded silently. 

"I will ready the jet." Ayo answered and turned around, her and the two other Dora briskly walking to the jet that was just now coming into Riri's focus. She assumed it was using the new camouflage tech she had heard mentioned before she left Wakanda. 

"Those things get cooler every time."

"Yeah, I suppose they do." Shuri laughed half heartedly. They both tried to speak but cut each other off.

"So-"

"I do-"

"You first." They both sheepishly smiled as they spoke in unison. but Riri insisted. "Go ahead, please." 

Shuri would've resisted if she wasn't so desperate and struggling against showing it. 

"How have you been? I've mis- I've been wondering. We haven't spoken since you left." Shuri caught herself, suddenly feeling like twiddling her fingers and looking at her shoes too but she resisted that too. She was good at resisting. 

"Oh.. well yeah. I've been. You know, school, work. Just been trying to get through the semester. I wanted to re- well I wondered how you've been too."

"I've been, too." Shuri shrugged with a smile. She wanted to know more, everything. To devour the stories Riri could tell her, even the most mundane. She wanted to know what pencils she used to write equations and what she thought of the food in her cafeteria. Riri just smiled, feeling the weight again. She knew Shuri hadn't been good, and she knew she hadn't either. 

"Can I ask you-" They both spoke in unison again. 

"You first." Riri insisted again, before Shuri could. Shuri didn't like it but she also didn't have much time to waste. 

"Why didn't you reach out?" She asked, leaving Riri out of breath all over again. After a second that seemed like a million, Riri answered.

"I didn't know how." She said truthfully. 

"I left you beads. Maybe I should've left a note too. I'm sorry, I figured you'd-"

"No, no. Not like that. I figured that out, it was actually pretty easy." Riri smiled, thinking about how much fun it was to try to get the beads to work. Fun until it wasn't. Fun until she heard Shuri's voice message and left it for months.

"Then you didn't want to?"

"No, I did. I just didn't know... how. I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. But trust me, I wanted to. I really wanted to." Riri said earnestly and more quiet than she intended. Shuri believed her and took her answer, even if she didn't like it. Again resisting herself. Resisting Riri. 

"I understand. Thank you for letting me know. Well..." She looked back at the Jet and sighed. They made eye contact before Shuri decided it would be best to count her losses in her own country, turning to leave. 

"Wait, I still have a question!" Riri almost shouted. "If that's okay... of course." She said more quiet. Shuri turned around eager to hear. Hoping. Resisting. But hoping. She nodded her head.

"Well..." Riri twisted her fingers around in her hands. She still didn't know what to say or how to say it. But she didn't have much time to waste. 

"Well?" Shuri asked, trying not to sound pushy but anxious to know. 

"Is it too late?" Riri asked, looking back up at the woman in front of her. The face she had committed to memory, but a bit different. More mature. Somehow even more beautiful. Shuri said nothing.

"...To reach out... To talk?" Riri finally drove it home, sending a silent prayer to whoever would answer that she wouldn't further embarrass herself. 

Startling the both of them, Shuri's beads lit up and Ayo's face appeared. 

"My apologies my Queen, but if we do not leave in the next three minutes, you may be late to your engagements tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you. I'm coming." Shuri said back, eyes still on Riri. 

Riri felt defeated as she watched the panther tuck her beads back up her sleeve. It probably was too late. And who knows. Maybe it was the right thing to do to not stay in contact. Maybe that's what was best for Wakanda or Shuri. She remembered her mother always telling her that sometimes "doing the right thing feels like shit". In this case, she thought, it felt worse than shitty.

That was until Shuri grabbed her hand. Softly, almost too soft in comparison to what you'd expect from a super powered panther. It was so soft yet sent a shiver through Riri, like electricity was coursing through her. Like her heart was beating for the first time. The eye contact was somehow not as awkward as it was a second ago when they were standing a few feet apart. It was like they were all alone.

"Use the beads. If they need to charge, just set them in the sun but they shouldn't."

"Oh- Okay. I will. I will." Riri said twice, almost like she was confirming with herself first and the Shuri.

"Good." Shuri smiled. She took a step closer before she heard another beep on her own beads. Before the General could speak, Shuri was already responding. 

"I heard you. I'm coming."

She looked at Riri again and sighed, and suddenly Riri saw just how exhausted the Panther really was. And maybe something else too. Shuri stepped back again, not wanting to let go of Riri's hand. 

"It'll never be too late. I'll see you soon?" Shuri said, finally letting go and letting the physical distance regrow between them, hoping that the emotional distance wouldn't grow again too. 

Riri watched as the panther walked back to the jet and boarded, looking back only once, only long enough to catch Riri's small wave but not return it. The younger scientist stood there feeling disassociated, unsure of what to do next. Really, she knew she had to go back to her dorm and go back to living her real life just like she had after she left Wakanda. Although, as dreary as that still seemed to her, this time felt different. Like there was something to look forward to, if she had the balls to actually use the beads like Shuri had said. She mulled over whether or not it was an instruction or a question from the Panther as she chose not to watch the jet fly off behind her. She heard the media start to buzz again when they heard the jet, upset that they had missed the person they were waiting for. Yet, Riri stood there and stared at the ground where Shuri was just standing. She still felt that pathetic feeling, and worried that she hadn't had a chance to explain how she found Shuri or even knew she would be there. She felt the weight of grief again, after seeing how tired Shuri looked when you really looked at her. And she felt guilty, for feeling excited. For feeling the butterflies she always pretended she didn't feel. She wondered, briefly, how Shuri was feeling right now but per usual, tried not to wonder too much as to not become delusional. She knew better than anybody that assuming to know how someone else thinks is the worst mistake you can make. 

Shuri, back in the jet that was flying faster than she would like, was afflicted by similar thoughts. She wondered how Riri had found her and wondered if she really was as lucky as that just felt. She wondered why the girl even came. She wondered if she thinks about her too. She wondered if Riri would use the beads. She sat awake, replaying every moment of their time together since their first encounter over and over until they arrived in Wakanda, despite the Doras concerns for her not getting rest. Shuri would rest when things were well enough for her to rest, she told herself, but even she was starting to notice the cracks. She knew she could only stay awake for so many days until her body would shut down. She had secretly tried some of the elixirs and teas that both Nakia and Aneka had sent her, and she had read what Okoye sent her after hearing everything. She had slept every now and then, but it was never restful. It was never without torment from some figment of her mind taking shape of someone she wasn't ready to face - whether that be Namor, N'jdaka, or her mother. She always prayed for T'Challa to appear, who she wasn't sure if she was ready to see but longed for the comfort of his voice or face, but each time her body fell asleep, her mind fell into a well pit of despair. 

That is, until later that night. Shuri had been through her daily responsibilities after making it back to Wakanda. Once her meetings were over, she made her way to the lab. She did her best to avoid checking the status of Riri's beads, trying to keep her mind busy as she usually did. It was harder this time, knowing that she'd actually spoken to the girl. After bopping around a bit, her body started to feel the weight of the past few days. She hadn't been physically training as much as she should've the past few weeks, because she knew it would knock her out but she was starting to feel stiff. She finally let up and sat down at one of her desks in a back room of the lab after Griot had let her know her vitals. She didn't usually sit in this room, so she hadn't been aware of what was placed in there. As she lazily sifted through the papers on the desk to try to keep her mind occupied, she saw blueprints for Riri's Iron Heart suit. The same feeling of nervousness and excitement rose in her as she more hurriedly looked over them. Despite all the work they did together, she never really got to see too much of Riri's initial process from scratch. She ran her slender fingers over Riri's pencil marks, reading over all her notes to herself. 

With a yawn, Shuri sat back and relished in the fact that Riri actually existed. Sometimes, when Shuri was really out of it, she couldn't believe that everything really happened. She was sometimes convinced she would wake up and her mother would still be here, or that Riri was just a figment of her desperate imagination. Sure, having her mother back would be... well, everything. But it scared Shuri to think Riri might not have been real, that she didn't really happen. She felt selfish for this, knowing that Riri's life would probably be better without the trauma she endured in Wakanda. But nevertheless, Shuri held on tight to the memories she had of the woman, hoping that they would be enough for her. 

She thought about how it felt to hold Riri's hand, to touch her skin again. It was just as soft and delicate as it had been when they parted ways a few months ago. Her face looked the same, maybe more mature in some ways. She looked tired too, underneath the face she put on for other people. They had gotten past that with each other during their long nights alone working together in the lab. 

She thought about what it would feel like to fall asleep in Riri's bed. The mattress probably wasn't super comfortable but she remembers all the colorful pillows she has, messily strewn across the surface. The different colored blankets would probably fit them both well, even with the little space a twin bed supplies. They would have to be close, touching. Shuri imagined breathing in sync, feeling Riri's ribcage rise and fall in her arms while they were pressed against each other. She thought about how Riri smells. She's been trying to replicate it for months. She thought about breathing her in, laying her face in the crook of her neck and sleeping. Not thinking. Sleeping. Not even having to dream. She thought about waking up next to her, seeing her sleeping still until Shuri shifted too much by accident. Riri waking up and no doubt saying something funny. Or soft. Or just saying hello. How her eyes would look. She thought about not being afraid to make it real, that in her thoughts she didn't have to pretend that these touches were by accident or out of necessity. That they could spend an eternity, wrapped in colorful blankets, sleeping and touching skin to skin. That maybe Riri would feel the same, and they would laugh about how long it took to figure it out. That they would laugh until they couldn't, and talk until they couldn't, and then they would kiss. And everything would melt away, and neither would know where their skin would begin or end. And they would kiss until they couldn't. And they'd sleep. 

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep at the desk until she heard Griot's voice. 

"Sorry to startle you, Panther. But, Miss Williams is trying to contact you. How would you like me to proceed?"

Shuri was shook, unsure of what she looked like or even what time it was. She felt nervous. She felt groggy, not even sure if this was real either. Nevertheless, she answered. 

"Patch me through, please."

She waited a moment with bated breath, hoping this wasn't a dream or some fluke. Until she heard a familiar voice.

"Hello?" Riri asked, sounding nervous herself. Shuri wondered what time it was there, too. 

"Hey." She said, in a more relaxed tone. Even if this wasn't real, it was still the best dream she'd had in months. Maybe ever.

And they talked, for a long time. Eventually working through any awkwardness. Riri never explained how she made it to the Panther, and the Panther never asked. She did explain, however, why it took so long for her to call. Shuri just listened and let herself laugh, like she'd been dreaming about. Finally feeling free for a little bit, even if it was just for a little bit.

On the other side of things, once Riri had cleared everyone out of her room when she got back and promising to explain to MJ later, she had sat down and thought about what to do. That turned into pacing and talking outloud. She had been avoiding the beads like the plague for months, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what choice would cause the least harm, since she already felt guilty for what she had caused. She found herself awake all night feeling anxious. She left for class that morning, deciding that she would get through her day and take a nap. She would figure it out after that. What she didn't tell Shuri, is how hard its been to sleep since she left Wakanda, or really even how hard it was while she was there. But when she tried to take a nap, she realized that all she dreamed about this time was Shuri and how soft her hand was when they had touched and how peaceful it felt to talk to her, even if only for a few moments and only a few words. She decided when she woke up that even if they ended up never talking again, she would keep her promise and use the beads.

And that's what she did. And that's what they kept doing, for weeks and months. They talked, they listened, they laughed, and on rare occasion, fell asleep. Both free from nightmares, even if just for a little while. Until Shuri finally arrived.

And finally, they had some time to really figure things out. Shuri promised she wasn't missing anything important by being there, and that she had allotted enough time. Riri was still unsure about it but couldn't resist the opportunity to finally see the woman she had been pining over for months - as a friend, of course. 

As Riri remembered back fondly, she had forgotten what was ahead of her until she was jolted by turbulence that was usually well controlled by the Wakandan tech in the fighter jet. She couldn't process how she could possibly be on her way to confront the man that almost killed her and did actually kill the Queen of Wakanda. She couldn't fathom that she was racing there, against her love, her best friend, to make sure she didn't kill him first. Suddenly her clothes all felt too tight, and her suit felt heavy despite being nano. Suddenly the air felt hot and her lungs felt empty and she felt dizzy. She had felt all of this before, a panic attack. Riri Williams was no stranger to a panic attack. Not before Wakanda, and definitely not after. Though, for the past few months, she had always had Shuri to help ground her. Now, she was floating in the air, literally and figuratively. Everything was moving so fast. She felt herself spiraling and cursing herself in the process, unable to stop it but ashamed nonetheless. She had worked hard, since she was younger, to have a control over her emotions and thoughts. She needed to, especially if she was going to take this super hero shit serious. Especially if she was going to be there for her mom and sister after her dad passed. Especially if she was going to make it. But she felt that control slowly ripping itself to shreds, doing a number on all the mental blocks she had in place. She couldn't lose Shuri. She couldn't be the cause of another war in Wakanda. She couldn't live with the guilt. She couldn't let Shuri get hurt, or worse, for her again. Even if it meant confronting a man much more powerful than her. Even if it meant losing. Even if it meant drowning all over again. 

Suddenly, she felt a cool hand grace the side of her cheek. She felt her suit dematerialize around her until it was just a bracelet again. She felt Okoye kneel down in front of her, eyes kinder than they usually were. She felt her pull her in close and squeeze. The pressure of the embrace bringing Riri back into her body. They stayed like that until Riri could breathe again. 

She went to apologize as Okoye pulled back silently, just as she had appeared, but she was cut off. 

"Aht aht. There is no need." Okoye softly but firmly let her know, sitting down next to her. They had never been this close before. Riri looked over to see the jet flying itself. The first time she saw that happen she was crazy nervous, but she's grown to trust both Wakandan tech and Okoye. After a few moments of silence, Okoye spoke again.

"I know what she means to you, you know."

Riri looked at her finally, noticing how somber her eyes really looked. She had seen those eyes before, but not like this. Okoye continued, looking back out the windows. 

"I was T'Challa's right hand. I saw it all, from the beginning to the end. I saw him be the panther, I saw him be the king. I saw him be Shuri's brother." Riri felt a pang in her at the use of Shuri's name. She listened.

"And I saw him fall in love. I saw him devote himself to Nakia, and I saw her unravel at the loss of him - until she left. I saw it all, as much as I could. And I often wondered why I didn't feel the way they seemed to feel when my husband betrayed me and Wakanda. But their love... it was pure. It was something out of this world, it was something built into them." Okoye sighed, feeling grief in many directions. Riri found herself fighting back tears again until Okoye looked at her with different eyes, almost loving eyes this time.

"I have seen that kind of love before and that is how I know you have it. Both of you. And that is how I know we will figure this out." Okoye looked at her and squeezed her hand again, affirming what she said. They both heard the AI tell them they were approaching in the next 5 minutes. Through her tears that were now shamelessly falling down her face, Riri gulped out a question, in true Riri fashion.

"Do you think you will ever love like that?"

"I already do." Okoye said, getting up and adjusting herself to get back to the front of the plane to chart their secret entrance into Wakanda. Riri looked confused.

"Ngudade wethu." Okoye answered again, before sitting down and being who she needed to be. Riri knew what she said, and knew that she was right. About all of it. 

As they prepared themselves, Riri suited up and made her way to the front of the plane. 

"Where did he say to meet?" The midnight angel asked Riri. She sent the coordinates to the jet and looked at them wistfully. She hadn't really thought about where she might actually be going to "talk" to him when she was rushing to get herself to Wakanda. She jumped when Okoye gasped. 

"What?! What is it?!" Worry filled her from head to toe again, hoping it had nothing to do with Shuri. 

"That bastard... We are going to have to find a way to break into the palace. He wants to meet in the throne room."

Riri was speechless, knowing that this was a tactic to try to make her feel weak. She also couldn't deny that it was working. She felt her heart rate increase at the thought of being back in there. Of seeing the place where she almost died. Of... all of it. She had visited many times in her dreams, all against her will. And now she would face him there, against her will. She knew he was doing this to weaken her resolve, much like her and Shuri did with the dehydrating jet. She knew his intent all along, but this certainly solidified it. 

Riri tried to make peace with dying in Wakanda. Once again, her mom wouldn't know where she was or how any of this happened. She wondered what lie they would tell her. She wondered if she would fight or just give herself to him. She wondered what Shuri would do, knowing this wouldn't end well no matter what she did. But she held her mind together as best as she could. She knew she had to meet him before she did. She knew she had to do what she could to prevent a second war. Okoye knew too, looking at her and then pulling up her own beads to try and locate Shuri. 

"The Panther's location services are currently offline." The Ai spoke to them. 

"Let us pray she is behind us and not ahead of us."

"Will she know where to find us?"

"We are about to break into the most secure place on the planet earth. I'm sure everyone will know where to find us in a matter of moments." Okoye answered and they shared a look. 

"I hope you know, I will fight until the end with you. I have stood with the Wakandan throne my whole life. I have stood with Shuri and those that came before her. I have stood for the safety of my people as best as possible, but I have made my own mistakes before. I will stand with you, now, Riri. No matter the outcome."

Riri felt the pull of her tear ducts again but different this time. Okoye reminded her of her own sister, and of her own mistakes. She reached out a hand and found Okoye's. They held hands until it was time to land. 

Once they had maneuvered their way into the country using Okoye's knowledge as former general and her new disguising tech, which Riri made a note to recreate if she made it out of this, Riri followed Okoye into the dense jungle around them.

"The best chance we have is to stay low until we can't anymore, and then charge in. The Doras won't see it coming but they will react, with their full might as they've been trained to do. Even to me. Our goal is not to harm any Wakandans, but we have to get to the throne room before he does. I will do my best to reason with Ayo and Aneka but they will resist a meeting with him there. Once we spot him, we must draw him away from the palace. Even if it means drawing him to the sea. Remember that he is most powerful near water."

Riri nods as she listens. Okoye wishes there were another way.

"Remember that if we see Shuri, we may already be too late. We must keep them separate. I do not know if she will choose peace a second time. Not when it concerns you."

"I don't want her to do this, I hope you know. You were right. You were right about it all. I love her. But I don't want her to risk everything for me. You all already have and I can't live with that. I can't live with any of this. I don't want to die but... But I can't let everyone else die for me either." Riri spits out, hoping she's being believed. She means it. Okoye looks at her and hears Nakia's voice in her head. "I just know his spirit. It is simple in that way for me."

"Ndiyawazi umoya wakho. I believe you. And I will fight to make sure no one has to die today, unfortunately even him if it means peace."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, small girl."

"For what?" Riri asked, genuinely surprised since most of the mayhem the past few months has been a result of her actions - intentional or not. 

"For giving her something to hold onto again. Something to believe in." Okoye answered truthfully. Riri didn't know what to say but she took in what the older woman said, against trusting her. After a few moments of silence, it was time.

"Stand behind me and do not fly until I tell you. If you enter the air space anywhere near the palace, you will be shot down before you can count to one. Do you understand?" Riri nodded. 

She did understand. Now, more clearly than ever.

🖤

#black sapphic #riri williams #Shuri Udaku #iron heart #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black wlw #marvel #SHURIRI #SCIENCE GAYS #SORRY FOR THE ANGST BUT I HAD TO

[museumgiftshoperaser]

80s New York Art Scene AU for @steddiebang Now on AO3

Written by me with art by @melonalemonade & @dreaminginpencil Beta'd by @lihhelsing & Nevertheless

If Eddie had known that sharing his art studio with Robin would include her buddy Steve, he never would’ve offered it in the first place. There. He said it. If that makes him a bad friend, so be it. Because Steve is around all the time. Pastel and prissy. Sculpted from marble, yet dressed like a Macy’s mannequin. Always hovering. They got Robin’s potters wheel up the stairs last week, a three man effort he can still feel in his lower back, and now she’s fucking teaching him. Full on, arms wrapped around his waist, hands guiding hands. Someone grab him a bucket, ‘cause Eddie’s about to throw up. He’s not even good at it. Steve can barely get the hump of clay centered on the wheel and he refuses to get stains on his clothes. It’s fucking clay. It comes out in the wash. Steve’s shirtless approach to pottery is borderline offensive to the arts.

More information under the cut:

The posting date is less than two weeks away and I'm beyond excited to start sharing this fic with you guys! I've been working on it since January and it's the longest thing I've ever written. This story is absolutely drowning in 80s neo-expressionist art, graffiti and street art. Think Jean Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring. Everything about this fic is covered in paint <3

Posting Schedule: Nov. 7: Prologue + Chapter 1 - "Takes One to Know One" Nov. 10: Chapter 2 - "You've Done This Before" Nov. 14: Chapter 3 - "The Boy From California" Nov. 17: Chapter 4 - "A Regular Thing" Nov. 21: Chapter 5 - "You Don't Have to Tell Me" Content warnings for: Past abusive relationship, mentions of abuse during childhood, addiction, slighty toxic relationship, period typical homophobia and mentions of homophobic parents, mentioned death of a parent, explicit sex scenes with dom/sub undertones I've got a little snippet for you here:

“Ta-dah,” Robin says with a big smile and an even bigger hand gesture.  She stretches her arms like a big reveal, which only highlights how small the studio is. Both of her hands almost touch a wall. Eddie’s normally fucking proud of this space, but Steve’s presence is ruining it. It’s one of the reasons he hates rich people. The world always looks like shit through their eyes. A crease forms between Steve’s eyebrows, an expression Eddie has seen him make several times in the thirty minutes he’s known the guy. “This part is mine!” Robin says, sounding genuinely excited. She’s the only rich person Eddie respects. He cleared out the room directly to the right of the entrance for Robin. It’s slightly smaller than his own, but she agreed to it before she left to spend all of June and July with her mother in California. She said it had better light anyway, which Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about.  There’s something twitchy about Steve’s movements. He baby birds his way across the space, like he doesn’t realize he has wings yet. Anxious, which, what the fuck? What did Eddie do to deserve that? Steve’s nose scrunches like he smells something he disapproves of. “I really don’t like this part of the city,” he says and he looks out the window like that proves his point. “Do you have to work here?”  Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. He promised Robin he’d play nice, but surely these are extenuating circumstances.  “We don’t all have daddy payin’ our bills,” he says with a pout and a lilt that borders on sexual. Just to piss him off. Just to make everyone uncomfortable. Robin blinks a few times fast and shakes her head. Count that as a win.  “I don’t…” Steve stutters before collecting himself. “I just want Robin to have a nice place to work.”  “And I’d like a pony and a private jet, but we can’t all get what we want,” he says and he really should stop there. But… “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”  He doesn’t even have to wink this time. A blush stretches all the way to Steve’s ears. His eyes deepen from shock to anger like a bruise turning dark purple on day three. Yup. Worth it.  “Eddie, could you please just behave,” Robin groans. “We still have to get the rest of my stuff.” “I can help you with that tomorrow,” Steve says, still flushed, but pretending like he isn’t. It’s a sweet offer until he turns to look Eddie up and down and adds: “So we can get out of here now.”  “That would be great.” Robin looks up at Steve. “I could really use a drink, you?”  There’s those puppy eyes again. Steve’s whole face lights up and he nods quickly.  “You coming, Eddie?” She wiggles her fingers at him. “First round on me?” An offer to get drinks with his best friend and this random guy who makes him want to rip his own hair out? Fuck no. He has some sense of self preservation, thank you very much.  “I’m just gonna work on my painting for a bit.” Robin rolls her eyes at him before pushing Steve back toward the front door. “Go home on time, okay?” she yells over her shoulder. “The painting’s gonna be here in the morning.”  “Yeah, yeah…” He waits by the door until he can no longer hear their footsteps on the stairs. Once he’s confident they’re gone, he grabs the sheet turned blanket from the crate behind his easel. He never bothers with pajamas, just unbuckles his overalls and lets the pants sag around his hips as he sinks into the couch. It’s easier that way. If Robin comes back he can just tell her he was taking a nap. Sweatpants and a sleep shirt would be a dead ringer that sleeping here isn’t just a one off. He’s been doing it since he got evicted in April, but what Robin doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

#steddiebang23 #so so so thrilled #i will do so much infodumping about art in the chapter notes #cant wait!!! #I also think it's one of the best things I've ever written #I put so much time and energy into this #I've never edited something this much #and i think it really shows <3 #cant wait for people to read it!! #if you like excessive descriptions of the painting proces #and also mommy issues #this is the fic for you!!! #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[merlyn-bane]

BABE!

re: foelu prompts

i would looovveeee to see some spice with cody, obi-wan, and rex sometime after kai 🥺 kind of waxer and boil-esque (you know that scene of the three of them when obi is pregnant lives rent-free in my head) or whatever you come up with <3 you know i am eating it up

just a uh. big fan of those three 🤭

Your wish is my command, beloved 😘😘

Be advised I have not beta’d this at All, lmao.

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~

Date nights often include everybody—in the interest of fairness and because Obi-Wan does very much enjoy spending time with all of his partners at once—but of course that isn’t always the case. Sometimes not everyone can make it, and sometimes it’s nice to go as a smaller group or even one-on-one; and of course they take turns enjoying Obi-Wans’ more focused attention.

Tonight was Rex and Cody’s turn. The three of them had decided to go out dancing—Rex had been a few times with Ahsoka and thought it might be a good way to get all of their minds off of their six-month-old and other responsibilities, and was correct—and Obi-Wan is enjoying a very pleasant buzz between the one glass of booze he’s had and the general atmosphere rubbing off on him in the Force, particularly from his partners.

He’s currently laughing against Rex’s mouth as the former troopers attempt to hustle him off of the dance floor and—presumably—to somewhere more private, not bothering to assist with the navigation in the slightest when he could concern himself with kissing instead. Besides, he trusts them to get them where they need to go. Unquestionably so.

He hears a door shut behind them at some point and finds himself in a dark room but really could not care less where, especially with Cody pressing up against his back now and starting to trail kisses along the side of his throat—hands already seeking the waistband of the civilian trousers he’d chosen to wear.

“This is gonna have to be quick,” Cody pants against his skin, the hot air making him shiver.

“And dirty, I presume,” Obi-Wan grins, and is summarily nipped in the earlobe by a former captain for his cheek. He lets out another breathy laugh and helps his partners to divest them all of their clothes—only the bottoms, unfortunately, as they are more or less still in public—and lets himself take a moment to mourn that the lighting is too low to really see them. The two of them are both quite fetching in their outfits for tonight; Rex in a rather tight pair of jeans and an even tighter black t-shirt with his blond hair starting to grow out of the buzzcut he’d kept in the war and Cody in a nice pair of slacks and a metallic gold halter top that made his shoulders look impossibly broader—and rocking his new mustache, which he insists that he’s only ‘trying’ but Obi-Wan suspects is here to stay if for no other reason than that most of his brothers hate it.

Obi-Wan knows the exact moment that Cody has found the plug that’s been nestled securely in Obi-Wan’s ass since his shower that evening, his posture going still as his fingers brush against the gem decorating the base of it when he goes to grab a handful of Obi-Wan’s ass.

“You alright, Codes?” Rex asks between stealing kisses, noticing the pause, and at first the only response is a strangled sound but then Cody is tugging Obi-Wan’s pants the rest of the way down and off with renewed vigor and nudging his legs further apart. 

“Someone,” Cody growls, “apparently planned for this tonight.”

“Aren’t you the one always saying that it’s better to be over-prepared than under—“ Obi-Wan cuts off with an undignified yelp as Rex suddenly spins him around and pushes him up against Cody’s chest, fingers trailing down to check for themselves—

“Kriff,” Rex swears roughly. “Did you want one of us to fuck your ass tonight, sweetheart?”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to swear, this time, as Rex starts toying with the plug. “Well, I had rather hoped to make use of both holes, seeing as there are two of you.”

“And how’s your pretty cunt, cyare?” Cody croons, reaching down to run fingers through the lips of his pussy and grinning when he moans and grabs onto Cody’s biceps for support under the dual assault. “Hmm, well, you’re definitely getting there,” he says, “but I think we can do better.”

Obi-Wan chokes on a gasp as two fingers abruptly slide in and immediately start pumping, aided by the slick that’s already started leaking out of him. Behind him, Rex keeps playing with the plug, always threatening to pull it free but never quite doing so as he starts licking and nipping across Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Hey, didn’t Helix say Obi-Wan was going to have to pump and dump if he wanted to drink tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a better idea.” Without further ado, Rex finally, mercifully releases the plug—only to take hold of both sides of Obi-Wan’s wrap top and pull them apart until his breasts spill out into the cool air.

Only for one of them to be suddenly engulfed in the searing we heat of Cody’s mouth before Obi-Wan fully has a chance to process what’s happening, one of Rex’s hands shifting up to cover his mouth to muffle the cries as Cody starts suckling, taking long pulls and moaning.

“Bet that pussy is nice and ready for him now, sweetheart,” Rex grins, as though they cannot both hear the squelching of Cody’s fingers fucking into him, “but I think we should let Cody have his fill first, don’t you?” Obi-Wan nods almost on autopilot, and Rex drags a kiss across his shoulder in reward. “There you go.”

It could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes later when Cody finally releases his other tit from his mouth with a wet pop, but then the former commander is stooping down to grab Obi-Wan around the thighs and lifting him up—

Ohhhhhh, Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the way it feels when his partners first slide into his cunt.

Cody mercifully gives him a few moments to adjust, licking across his bottom lip before letting himself in to explore his mouth—still tasting of Obi-Wan’s milk, fuck—but then Obi-Wan realizes that it’s all a ploy to distract him and Rex is carefully pulling the plug out, not playing this time, and Cody is guiding Obi-Wan to wrap his legs around his waist and Rex’s cock is at his hole—

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Rex murmurs, taking the tender skin of Obi-Wan’s throat into his mouth and sucking a bruise there, and he draws in a deep inhale from Cody’s lungs and then Rex is pushing in—

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Obi-Wan is not going to last.

They must exchange some sort of signal over Obi-Wan’s shoulder because both of them pick up an easy rhythm at the same time, in tandem rather than in sync, and it is all Obi-Wan can do just to hold on. Force, but he forgot how good it felt to be split open like this, mounted on two of his partners’ cocks at the same time. 

They seem to agree, if the way both of them are panting harshly is any indication. He’s not sure what he and Cody are doing now could really be construed as kissing so much as breathing and moaning into each other’s mouths, but it lights his blood on fire just the same. 

“So tight, Obi-Wan, fuck,” Rex hisses, bringing both hands up to rub and squeeze at Obi-Wan’s breath as though he needs more stimulation. He’s telling Obi-Wan, Force, he swears he can feel them in his fucking throat. Perhaps he should have used another finger when he was working himself open earlier, but he has no regrets.

Over and over and over both of them keep thrusting, one withdrawing just as the other pushes in so that Obi-Wan cannot even chase the rhythm, just has to let them hold him up and take it. Cody suddenly picks up the pace, then, like he’s getting close himself, and Rex follows, and it only takes minutes more until Obi-Wan gives it up with a silent scream that is echoed by shivery grunts as they both finish inside him.

#Foelu #Foelu snippets #Foelu snippet requests #Writing #my writing

[echoing--stars]

ok picture this: Wars is an absolute MENACE. He goes to bake and Rowan just so happens to check the expiration date on let's say his baking powder which may be 20 plus years old....

just pulling ideas outta thin air ya know not targeted at all

Totally not going out of order to post this one today while it's fresh nope not at all

This was supposed to be crack, but it's mostly just very sweet! It is also based on a true story of a beloved friend using baking powder that is older than they are. I will be kind and not call them out though XD

This one also got long. It's longer than some of my fics on ao3 I'm pretty sure! And I remembered to use a read more line break this time!

(If you read this and would like to request a supposedly short snippet, see this post!)

Link thought that Rowan would be proud of him. He’d read the recipe twice — twice! — before starting. He’d taken out all the ingredients and all the equipment he needed. He’d only had to dig for a few things, but he’d bought the chocolate and butter that he knew they were out of yesterday.  If he’d misread the recipe yesterday and thought he’d needed baking soda instead of baking powder, well, no one had to know except himself. They’d use the extra baking soda someday. He assumed. And he’d found some baking powder anyways so what did it matter? He cracked the eggs in a bowl and made sure no pieces of shells were left in them. He measured out the sugars and dumped them in the mixing bowl along with the sticks of butter (and yes, he had remembered to take them out of the fridge that morning) and added two teaspoons of vanilla.

Link put the eggs and the sugar canisters away and then wiped the sugar residue out of the measuring cups he’d used. Rowan had talked about the importance of cleaning as you go and keeping a tidy workspace, after all. Next was measuring the dry ingredients. He started with the smaller measurements, putting them in a small ramekin for now. If he put them on the bottom of the bigger bowl, they wouldn’t mix well.  Another thing that Rowan had taught him was how to properly measure flour for baking. If you couldn’t weigh it, then you should spoon it into the cup and then level it. But was it really that important? Link thought for a moment, then shook his head. This was a simple cookie recipe, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He dunked the measuring cup into the bag of flour and scooped some up. He smooshed it against the side of the bag to even out the flour and — Knock knock! Link dropped the measuring cup into the bag of flour and grabbed his phone. Had one of his roommates forgotten their keys? It was too early for Rowan to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be off work for another hour. There was another knock and Link wiped his hands on a paper towel before heading to the door. He unlocked it but left the chain on, opening it just enough to see who was on the other side. “Rowan?” His boyfriend smiled sheepishly, and Link shut the door to undo the chain before letting Rowan in. “There’s a peephole for a reason, you know.” “That’s less dramatic.” “Whatever you say, Link.” Rowan pulled him into a brief hug, and when they pulled away, Link pressed a kiss against his lips. Rowan smiled into the kiss, and Link laughed as they pulled apart again. He turned to head back into the kitchen. “Why are you here so early? I thought you were at work until seven.” “It was slow today, so I left early.” Rowan dropped onto one of the bar stools at the counter. “What are you making?” Link blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to make you cookies. I’m sure they won’t be anything fancy, not what you make, but—” “They’ll be perfect, Link.” Link’s cheeks heated even more, and he turned back to the bag of flour. Now was not the time to flirt. Not even if Rowan looked extra cute with his hair coming undone from the bun he normally kept it in and the soft sweater and… He shook his head. No time for distractions. Now that Rowan was watching, Link measured the flour right. He took the spoon he’d left out and scooped the flour into the cup and leveled it with a spatula. He dumped it into the mixing bowl and started on the next cup.

Rowan was fidgeting in his seat while Link worked. Link tried to ignore him, to concentrate on what he was doing. But it wasn’t exactly easy. He’d just dumped the second cup of flour into the bowl when Rowan stood and walked around to Link’s side of the counter. He stood behind Link and wrapped his arms around Link’s waist, leaning down until he could tuck his chin over Link’s shoulder. “Rowan, you’re going to distract me.” “But I missed you!” Link hummed and tilted his head to the side until their cheeks were touching. The position was a bit awkward, but Link wouldn’t trade it for the world. After a few moments, Link got back to work. He grabbed the whisk and stirred the flour briefly. Rowan’s arms tensed around him briefly, making Link pause. Rowan pressed against his back as he reached towards the canister of baking powder still on the counter. Link took a small step forward to make it easier for Rowan to reach it and grabbed the ramekin of salt and baking powder he’d measured out earlier.

“Why are you using baking powder?” Link paused and let his hand fall to the counter. “That’s what the recipe says?” “Where’s the recipe?” Link gestured to the bag of chocolate chips. “The one on the back.” Rowan stepped away from Link’s back and grabbed the bag. He scanned the recipe before looking back at Link. “It says soda, hon. Most recipes like this use baking soda.” Link grabbed the bag from Rowan’s hands and squinted at the label. Had he been correct yesterday after all? “I swear I read this like three times!” Rowan laughed — the audacity — and shook his head. “You guys have baking soda right?” “I bought some yesterday.” Rowan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. Link dumped out the ramekin into the trash while Rowan grabbed the can of baking powder to put it away. “Link, where did you get this baking powder?” “Huh? I found it in the cupboard. Why?” “Link. Link, this is expired.” Link turned around. Rowan was holding the can upside down and frowning down at it. “Oh. Stuff is usually okay to use past the expiration date. And besides, Time used it a few months ago I’m pretty sure.” Not that the whatever he’d been attempting to make had turned out well. But Time had never been good in the kitchen, at least not without his girlfriend to supervise. Link couldn’t reasonably blame the baking powder for that. “No, Link.” Rowan shook his head. “This expired over 20 years ago.” “That’s not possible.” Rowan held out the can for Link to take. And just as he’d said, the date on the bottom read Nov 97. “What in the fuck?��� Rowan burst into laughter. “You were a toddler when this was purchased!” Link dropped the can on the counter. “Stop laughing! It’s not my fault!” “Was it here when you moved?” “How am I supposed to know? I assumed Time or Twilight bought it.” “They’ve only lived here, what? A few years? Did one of them inherit this can from their parents?”  Link sunk to the floor, head in his hands. That only made Rowan laugh harder, until he was nearly wheezing. Link could feel how red he was, his cheeks flushed from the embarrassment. “Rowan, how I supposed to know?” Link flopped onto the floor, hands still on his cheeks. He was glad that he’d mopped earlier before this whole fiasco. “This can looks like it’s from the 90s, Link. It’s all yellow and faded.” “Maybe that’s just what baking powder looks like. You’re the baker here, not me.” Okay, now he knew he was just whining. It’s not like he’d already made the cookies. Rowan knelt down next to him, his laughter finally fading. His cheeks were as red as Link’s felt. “I know, and it was very sweet of you to try. Do you want to finish?”

#a not so secret #anon!! #worm writes #linked universe #lu fanfic #lu warriors #rowanverse

[multicolour-ink]

Since it may be a while before my next fic is posted, here's a little snippet for you all ^^

Content subject to change!

- - -

"No", she said at once. "No, we can't separate them!"

She stepped forward but Pio took her by the shoulders.

"Mia, it's going to be alright..."

"No!", cried Mia shaking her head furiously. "They can't be separated!"

"You know Mario can't stay in the hospital..."

"But they can't be without each other!", Mia sobbed. She was hysterical now.

"It won't be for long", Tony assured her. "They won't notice for a bit."

"Luigi will be well looked after at the hospital", Marie said, stroking Mia’s arm.

Oh they didn't understand. Neither of them understood at all.

"Pio!", Mia clung to him desperately. "You saw them when they were just born? How they held onto each other and refused to let go? You remember the second scan, Pio?! They need each other!"

Pio swallowed. He couldn’t bare to see his wife like this. He wanted to take her in his arms and say yes, Mario could come to the hospital. They could camp out in the hospital room, just as a family.

But he also saw the way the other members of the family were staring at them. The hallway felt even more smaller under their gaze.

Pio knew that there was no convincing them, and he hated himself for what he had to do next.

"It'll just be a little while, amore. We'll see Luigi tonight, and then we can just take time to let the family visit during hours, and we can bring him back home. It will all be ok."

Mia stepped back from him.

"I'll stay with Mario here. I need to look after him if he can't come with us."

Her tone was not the passionate emotion from before. It was cold and flat. Pio felt his heart break, for surely hers was splitting at the seams.

As if on cue, Mario started crying from upstairs. Without a word, Mia dashed up the stairs to tend to him, leaving Pio standing in the hallway with the others.

#hopefully this will also help my mutes with helping me create a title ^^; #this is a little more context as to what is going to happen #super mario #mario #luigi #mario movie #the super mario bros movie #super mario movie #mia and pio series #mia mario #pio mario #mama mario #papa mario #uncle tony #uncle arthur #aunt marie #snippet #mario fanfic #super mario fanfic #fanfiction #mario fanfiction #wip #my writing #multicolour ink writes

[zeroducks-2]

Thank you for being a Barry lover, let the poor man get railed 🙏

Thank you for appreciating anon 🥹💕 that poor poor man really should get railed more.

You know, today is also Eobard's birthday!

I wanted to write something complex but I had very little time and very big headaches heh, so it's just a little thing instead. You can have a snippet of it with this post as a thank you for your ask 🫶

(smutty smut under the cut. This is not rape btw, Barry is fine. It's their version of CNC kinda)

Barry’s body isn’t nearly as welcoming as it could be, too tight, too tense, still fighting him even if not as openly as before. There is some bleeding but that’s alright, it helps with lubrication and allows Eobard to push further in, open him up more. 

«I told you to breathe.» 

Barry is gasping like air doesn’t fit in his lungs, and as much as he doesn’t actually need to breathe, it would surely help him take this better. In truth he should be given a moment, maybe even a minute, but Eobard doesn’t offer even an instant and just rolls the rest of the way in, enjoying the way Barry cries out and struggles and the palms he’s pressing against the wall visibly shake. 

No need to overly rush this, though. Eobard runs his knuckles up his old foe’s spine, stopping here and there to pinch and pull at the ruined suit, pleased to take stock of the many cuts and bruises below the tears in the red fabric. «Are you breathing yet…?» He mocks, trying not to sound like his own throat is as tight as it feels.

Barry turns to the side and glares at him through the streaks of blood covering part of his face, teeth gritted but he’s not gasping anymore. He’s gathering himself to say something and Eobard doesn’t really want to hear it, so he just pulls back and then bottoms out again - just a couple inches and slowly enough, but it still forces a gasp and a struggling noise out of the other. And at the next thrust Barry is down against the wall with his cheek and forearms pressed to it, something softer and less guarded slipping into his throaty exhale. 

«Oh, Barry.» Eobard smiles, leaning more against him and boxing his smaller body against the bricks. He just rolls his hips without pulling out, and can feel every little twitch and broken inhale that follows. «If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re enjoying this.» He nuzzles the sweaty line of the other’s neck while reaching down, pressing below his navel with the full palm, and just about purring when he finds his hard shaft still partially trapped in the red suit. 

He doesn’t say anything though. Instead he spends the next few minutes quietly grunting in the effort of moving deliberately, of carefully touching and holding Barry down while the smaller speedster arches against him and presses his mouth into both hands, but doesn’t entirely smother precious little sounds. Eventually Eobard stills, enjoys the break of every goosebump as his own shaft gets pressed from root to tip, Barry’s body gripping him just right now. But then he palms the top of Barry’s thigh, and immediately the little thing starts quivering again. 

«You’re going to have to brace yourself for this.» He warns, and this time he does give it a moment, just nosing Barry’s damp hairline right below his ear. He can feel the wound on his thigh throb even from there, it’s barely just stopped bleeding. 

«Wait-wait…» Barry breathes out, now almost unnaturally still despite how fast his heart is going. His erection doesn’t flag though, and Eobard lets a small smile slip against his neck. 

«You knew it was going to happen.» He reminds him, hand slightly moving down, just enough for his palm to cover the injury. He can feel the heat radiating from it, Barry’s body working overtime to knit itself back together. His glove quickly grows damp with blood. 

«Just… wait. Just give me a-» Barry’s voice sounds so small. Eobard holds down right over the wound on his thigh ever so slightly, and just for the smallest moment. Barry gasps and squirms against him, his erection still doesn’t flag. 

«Yes. You’re doing so good.» He replies, and Barry’s next sound is a guttural plea that seems to have climbed its way from the pitch of his belly. He’s leaking against Eobard’s palm. «I’ll wait, then. We have time.» 

Barry turns as much as he can and it takes a moment, but eventually it clicks with Eobard that he’s reaching back for a kiss. And he’s suddenly startled, enough that he doesn’t give it back and just blinks at Barry’s swollen bright eyes and his mouth still open to gasp quietly. «I’m ready.» He murmurs against the corner of Eobard’s lips, then turns back towards the wall.

#Happy birthday Eo I got you Barry #I was supposed to get you heartbreak and an attempted murder-suicide but I guess this is fine too #eobarry #barry allen #eobard thawne #my asks #my fanfictions

[marypsue]

I just saw a #relatable piece of art from someone making a long-form webcomic about how they were daydreaming about all these points on a line - Intrigue, Mystery, Foreshadowing! Hype, Tension! Mind-Blowing Plot Twist! etc etc etc - and then zoomed back so that we could see those points on the line came well toward the end of the line, that the exciting points got smaller and and smaller going back toward the beginning of the line until they completely disappeared, and the first half of the line was a flat boring blank from ‘Story Starts’ all the way to the last third of the line. With a jaunty little ‘You are here’ marker very near the start. 

I didn’t want to reblog the original post with commentary because I’ve never written (or drawn) a webcomic (well, okay, that lasted for more than about six pages), and I know OP is exaggerating for comedic effect. But it did make me think of one of the most important things I ever learned about writing long-form stories:

The fun stuff isn’t a ‘reward’ you get for slogging through a flat boring barren wasteland of Middle Plot. The fun stuff is the plot. 

If I’m bored writing it, I figure other people will be bored reading it. And there’s no set amount of time that a story has to spend in the And Then They Walked For A Fortnight salt mines in order to get to the stuff you’re really excited for, so long as you haven’t left out anything that it’s important for the readers to know.

One of the pieces of writing advice that’s been incredibly useful to me is that most stories start well after many novice writers think they do. If your ‘Story Starts!’ point on the line is so far before your ‘Intrigue, Mystery, Foreshadowing!’ point, maybe everything before ‘Intrigue, Mystery, Foreshadowing!’ is actually backstory. Maybe instead of writing out a whole plot point you wish you could just skip to get to the Good Bits, but need in order for a reader to understand the impact of the Good Bits, you can reveal it to your readers in little chunks throughout the rising action, or at a dramatic moment in the climax. And by doing so, turn it from a long boring slog into an exciting snippet of reveal. 

The story starts when things start getting interesting. I like to drop my readers into the story as close to everything popping off as I possibly can, which sometimes means dropping them into the story while everything is popping off (or just after) and filling in the blanks of how things got to that point as we go. And it’s not just me - if the popularity of a certain bone-obsessed recent series is anything to judge by, readers enjoy having to figure out what’s going on while in the middle of the story, too. 

If I’m bored, a reader will be bored. And the fun stuff is the story. 

#the only way i ever started finishing things was when i jettisoned the idea that every story needs a set amount of And Then They Walked #And Walked And Walked And Walked Some More #it worked for Tolkien bc he was Doing Something with it. i was not. i was stalling. #writing

[if-confessions]

Author here: my confession is i'm lying. My demoless intro blew up and i kinda can't be asked to write it anymore. I keep posting screenshots of snippets but i'm never gonna release anything. I feel bad cause there are so many asks but i seriously don't have an ounce of care. I love my cast and my story but it’s so hard to write. I've seen a lot of accounts with a lot of hype and asks but no demos so i don't feel terrible and we authors don't owe anyone content anyway. I know it's bad but i love getting sent questions and notes cause people are so interested and it's so fun to post new ideas. Once my hype dies i'll probably just create a new one cause i'm already writing a synopsis for this new story and it's so good.

Hi Anon,

I'm going to get real with you, buddy. I had to write this message multiple times because I ended up being a bit too... angry. And as much as I absolutely don't vibe with this whole position, it would still not be fair to you to get the end of my frustration with it.

So I am trying again, (more) calmly.

I honestly have been wondering if you are maybe lying to yourself when you said you can't be asked to continue your project. You seem to be very enthusiastic about the story and the characters (or you wouldn't be sharing snippets or answer asks about it. What jumped at me was: my demoless intro blew up.

I've answered a lot of asks in the past about creators worried about not being enough because their project didn't get enough attention, but very little when it came to the ones blowing up overnight. But just because your intro blows up, doesn't mean you don't struggle with all of this.

So I have a few questions for you:

Are you having this blasé attitude about your project and giving up because of the heightened expectations of having blown up?

Then you might find getting a break from interaction/the social aspect to help. Or maybe interacting with other creators outside of Tumblr and discuss experiences and what to do when the motivation is gone or it becomes to overwhelming (hint: it's often a break).

Another option is to set expectations about the project. And I mean yours. Creating a grandiose story spanning books and dozens of chapters each and a cast as long as your arm can be incredibly fun, but it might not feasible, and often becomes overwhelming. Maybe take a look at your story and chop it down to manageable bites or remove parts that don't fit.

Do you worry if you actually post it, people will not vibe with it?

In this case, consider alpha/beta testing, where you share more about the story to a select few and request feedback. Joining a writer's group or a smaller IF server to discuss or brainstorm or get feedback on ideas is also a nice way of getting confidence about what you are doing. Some community have even some sort of writer's circle, where multiple people get together and write for an hour or two.

Are you afraid you will be found out as not being a good creator (a.k.a. the imposter syndrome)?

We all start somewhere, and that somewhere is very often bad. Don't sweat it. The good news tho, is that it can't get worse. The more you write, the better you get. (but you have to write first)

Do you want a point of reference? Try reading the first version of my first game. It is cringy as hell, there are a lot of grammar and syntax mistakes... I hate it so much, so I made it public to everyone. Go roast me about it, then go read the much better version (or the other way around.

Do you feel like you are lacking confidence in your ability to finish the project because your experience with the medium is minimal, making it overwhelming?

Pause the project for a bit, and write a tiny game (not more then 1k). Join game jams to test some stuff out. Mess around with the program and see what can be done.

Did your struggle with writing come from realising the amount of work required to make it happen?

Time to break it down in smaller pieces, until it feels doable. Then take one piece at a time. And there is no timeline you need to keep...

Do you feel like you can't do this by yourself and would feel more confident continuing the project if you had more direct support?

Try to reach out to other people and see if someone would be interested in helping you make this project a reality. I've seen many projects being done in duo or trio (Harcourt, Lady Thalia...). It will be a different dynamic, but can be very fulfilling.

Are the characteristics of the IF medium something you can't see working? Does the story not work when variation is added? Is there only one path that works for you?

Maybe, IF is not the medium for this project (or for you). That is also fine!

Not everything will work with IF (hell, even inside the IF sphere, some stories fits better the parser-type or the choice-based one, or the hyperlinks one). Maybe the project should become a novel, or a poem collection, or be turned into a comic/webtoon.

~~~

Before you go on to make another intro post with your new idea on the hope that it will blow up so you can just talk about it and bounce when it becomes too difficult, maybe ask yourself:

why you entered this community in the first place,

why you wanted to try your hand at making IF too,

why this story stuck to you so much you wanted to share it with everyone,

what made the story fun in the first place,

what was the point where the fun in writing actually stopped,

whether you want to abandon a story you seem so passionate about...

Interactive Fiction is an awesome medium, and it's a shame to take it for granted...

Or you can go ahead and post that new idea of yours, continuing to blatantly lie to people to get attention rather than enjoying the medium and the craft for what they are, and toy with people essentially...

I might have been reaching there about the lying to yourself, or the fact that blowing up affected your love for creation more than what you message conveyed...

... and you might actually not give a shit at all about doing anything but throwing ideas at the wall, ignoring the rich and incredible history of Interactive Fiction and its captivating evolution (still happening today), neglecting the vibrant community just to con people for notes and attention that are insignificant in real life, lying to everyone just for the lolz...

You do you boo...

~~~~~~~~

Little reminder for people reading this: Don't send hate to people posting an intro post without a demo assuming they are like this anon. It would really suck if we end up gatekeeping a fun hobby because of one bad apple.

[old comments in tags: I'm sorry but I really don't like liars that do it for the lolz it's not cute gosh i tried to tone done the judgement on this really hard I honestly hope anon is just overwhelmed because they got more attention than they thought they would in the first place /]

#confession time #if-confessions #demo or no demo #dark side of if

[breakaway71]

ANIJATP PLEASE

aaaaaaaahhhh I love this fic SO MUCH but I uuuuhhhh legitimately sort of forgot it existed until like a week ago when I found it on my flashdrive and was like DID I WRITE THIS IN A FEVER DREAM OR SOMETHING?? So this is my JATP/Animorphs crossover, which is mostly canon-compliant for both universes, except the Yeerk war ended more quietly than in the books, so they were still secret at the end. Essentially, Reggie was also an Animorph, getting caught up in it by virtue of being Marco's older cousin, who was visiting when Elfangor crashed in the construction site. The war ended, and a couple months later Reggie ate a bad hot dog and died anyway. (Yup I managed to make hot dog death even more ironic and tragic.) The story picks up post-S1, and Reggie is struggling because his friends still don't know his secret, and he also misses his other team and wants to know that they made it, that they're okay, that they recovered from the war and losing Rachel everything else that happened to them. Also I accidentally made it Marco/Ax :D snippet:

“Reg?” he hears from far away. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Reggie shakes his head, coming back to himself all at once to find that he’s shaking all over, jaw clenched around a scream. “No, I’m, um. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Alex says, and Reggie turns to find him hovering at his other shoulder, looking worried.

“Bad dream,” Reggie mumbles, and can’t miss the look Luke and Alex exchange. Because, yeah, they’ve seen him zone out before, but it doesn’t happen to them. He doesn’t know if it’s a trauma thing or just a himthing, and honestly doesn’t want to know. “Look, it’s fine. I’m all good.” He tries for a smile and knows it falls short when Luke crowds in closer, reaching out to grab Reggie’s shoulders.

“Hey,” he says. “You know you can talk to us, right?”

Reggie just barely stops himself from snorting. Yeah, he can talk to them. He can tell them all his wartime trauma stories, and then wave goodbye as they cart him off to a rubber room for ghosts. Sounds fun.

“I…”

“Whatever stupid thing you’re about to say,” Alex says, “don’t.” He nudges Reggie’s side. “Come on, you think we didn’t notice all those times you disappeared on us? We knew something was going on. You don’t have to tell us what it was, but it’s obviously still bugging you, dude. We’re your best friends. We’ll listen if you want us to. You know that, right?”

Reggie shakes his head, not because he doesn’t know, and not because he doesn’t want to talk to them, but because he promised. Because even if he could tell them everything (and he can, he knows he can, they’re ghosts now and even if the Yeerks were still on Earth, his friends would be safe by default because they don’t have bodies to infest), he wouldn’t know where to start.

Once upon a time, I was visiting my cousin, and he and his best friend and a few other kids dragged me through this construction site on our way home from the mall. A dying alien crash landed his ship right in front of us, and suddenly playing bass with you guys wasn’t the most important thing in my world, no matter how much I still wanted it to be.

“I can’t…I…” Reggie swallows. In a much smaller voice, he says, “I promised. A long time ago.” It’s the only excuse he has. “I’m sorry.”

Another look is exchanged, but then Luke and Alex are hugging him, one on either side, and for a little while, that’s the only thing that matters.

#julie and the phantoms #animorphs #crossover shenanigans #ask meme #snippet

[deejadabbles]

Just a Foxy lil snippet

So, this will be part of a larger Commander Fox x Reader fic I've been plotting out. It will be a slow burn story, but this one particular scene from later in the series would not leave me alone! Figured I'd write it, and post it for you guys to enjoy (and also test engagement, see if anyone's interested).

Warnings for: cursing and suggestive themes (tis spicy themed) Minors DNI!!

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul

Fox was glad that, for once, he was rested enough to wake up before you. He also loved that he was in your bed this time, not curled up on your couch like a stray loth cat. Both circumstances allowed for this, allowed him the most stunning view he had ever seen. Your face was so peaceful, a kind of relaxed he had never quite seen on you before. Usually, your expression was that cool, blank slate that was required of your position. ...Or it was twisted into something terrifying because he pissed you off again.

There was a third of course, that subtle, delicate, yet somehow devastatingly beautiful smile you gave him when it was just the two of you (and he managed not to be an ass). He loved- adored that smile, but, there was something special about this, something innocently genuine and vulnerable that he wanted to appreciate. Something he wanted to hold forever.

Your lips were parted just a bit, and it was all he could do not to lean in and kiss you. Kiss you like he had the night before. Kiss you like you were the only thing he had ever thought about wanting.

Unfortunately, the spell was broken when a musical chime sounded from your bedside unit.

Kriff, even your alarm was beautiful and sweet. You stirred instantly. Reaching over and pressing the silent button, before rolling back towards him and lifting your eyelids in a flutter.

Then you smiled at him. And Fox felt himself come undone in a whole new way than the night before.

"Good morning," you whispered, and your hand found it's way to his cheek.

He sighed and melted into the touch, closing his eyes and mumbling his own greeting. Despite the loving moment, Fox couldn't help but to feel you were both on a timer now, the real world crawling up to the door to knock and ruin his perfect paradise.

He had fully intended to savor every second that remained like they were his last, until he heard you sigh.

"I should have set my alarm for earlier, so we could lay like this awhile longer."

"We have time," he mumbled, selfishly moving his body closer to yours, his skin aching to feel you again.

"I don't set my alarm with lounging time in mind," your voice was smaller than usual, and he saw the way you didn't meet his eyes, even when you lifted your head and kissed him.

It was almost ridiculous how instantly his body came alive for you. His hands started scrambling to tangle in your hair, but you were already pulling away. He grumbled when you muttered another apology, shifting towards the edge of the bed and away from him.

"I'm sorry, Fox, but there's a lot of work to do today," you said, tone more firm now as you slipped out of his reach and rose from the sheets.

Something with claws started kneading inside his chest. It was actually painful to watched you grab the dressing robe from the nightstand and cover your gorgeous body with it. He wanted to grab your wrist and drag you back to bed, sink his teeth and cock into you so hard and lovingly that you'd forget anything or anyone outside this room even existed.

But you had your own life to attend to, your own duties and responsibilities. He had to remind himself that they were duties and responsibilities that you had chosen. You worked for the Senator because you wanted to, not because it was forced upon you. Because you loved Amidala and believed in her goals. You were passionate and dedicated to your work by more than forced obligation, unlike him.

And, no matter how possessive he was of you, he had to respect that.

Respecting that was the least he owed you, after all you'd given him.

So, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to tear that robe off of you like the lead of a cheesy romance holo, he settled for reaching out and pulling your wrist to his lips, kissing the delicate skin there. He could feel your pulse quicken under his lips, and wondered if your own fantasies were stirring at the sight of him, naked under your sheets.

"I'm gonna have to learn to share you with Amidala, aren't I?" The question was rhetorical of course, and the bemused smirk you gave him said that you knew it was. He was thankful for that, the last thing he wanted was for you to think he was some possessive freak, no matter how close he came to being one.

"I can't promise you all the quality time in the world," you said, blunt but not unkind, as always, "but I can at least promise to keep up the time we've already notched out for each other."

He let his heavy sigh fan over your skin, relished the way goosebumps rose on your body in answer. "I guess I can live with that," he grumbled, again having to fight the urge to pull you against him and ravish you. He wanted the galaxy to implode in on itself, so long as it left the two of you together in this moment forever.

Kriffing hell, when had he gotten so melodramatic?

When he'd met you, he supposed, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #deeja writes #fox is an emotional bitch cos apparently thats how i like to write him lol #really goin deep with this fic idea its taken over my life #series: the handmaiden's fox