#thenextromanawrites

[thenextromana]

So You Used To Be Chosen - Steph Stark's Ko-fi Shop

Have you always wanted to be a disgruntled Former Chosen One? Now you and your friends can be all the Chosen Ones you can be! Contains compl

I've written an RPG! Have you always wanted to be a disgruntled Former Chosen One? Now you and your friends can be all the Chosen Ones you can be!

[thenextromana]

Wrong Number, Right Answer

Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP texting their best friend “I think I like Person B” but accidentally sending it to Person B

When Steve heard the chime, it took him a moment to remember that it was his phone's text message noise, which was odd, because no one ever text messaged him; they all assumed he was more comfortable with voice calls, but he actually liked the messages that were like telegrams, but infinitely faster. He couldn't even imagine who might be contacting him anyway, since Natasha, Clint, and Phil were on assignment, Bruce was in rural Kenya with Doctors Without Borders, Thor was on Asgard, and Tony had just come home, drunk but not noticeably smashed, from some gala or other, and gone nearly straight up to bed. If he'd had anything to say to Steve, he could have said it when he was filling his water glass. Steve picked up his StarkPhone curiously and swiped across the screen.

<i>Rhooooodeeeyyyy.... yoy havce to hellp ne gert overthids crrrrsh om steeeeeve</i>

Steve blinked at the screen several times. First he was aware that the message had been sent to the wrong person, and he shouldn't read it, but by then he was trying to decipher the rest of the thing, and of course his eyes landed on his own name. He checked the 'sender' box, reflexively and without any actual hope, but wonder of wonders, it really was Tony. His breath caught, and he forced it back into rhythm as he went back and retranslated the message from Drunk to standard English. Yeah, it really did say what he thought it did. He was responding before he could think about it.

<i>What crush?</i>

Two more came in quick succession.

<i>Yoy knoe, teh 1 on the sruprehoit suiperstr8 sdopersoiklder wh lives w/me

Th 1 in te wooooooondrfl tighyt shirts whs sooo much bttr thn th stroies dsad tol</i>

Steve's chest was so tight he thought for a moment he was having an asthma attack. Tony really had a crush on him? He'd never given any indication, unless... Were there modern codes? Had he been missing Tony's signals? Before he could <i>begin</i> to figure out any of it, another message came in.

<i>Oh, hahah, 'whsat crish'. Jusrtt casuse I tsakled yr ear offfor yrs boiut him...</i>

Years? But they'd only known each other months. Oh, he <i>had</i> to respond now...

<i>So you should say something to him</i>

His heart was in his throat. Maybe he should just go up and talk to Tony. But he wanted to get over this crush, right? Was Tony not actually-

<i>Duh. Ddi u misssteh pasrt whrer hes srt8? Nd prbly a 40s homomompjhobe. Don wan 2 gt btean uop.</i>

What? He would never!

<i>Captain America wouldn't beat you up for being queer!</i>

Would Tony really have a crush on someone he thought would <i>hit</i> him? Did he think so little of Steve? Or was it of himself? Steve knew his thoughts were racing but he couldn't bring them back under control.

<i>Fimne, no breatingssses. Hed stil lesacve canhtha e thta</i>

Leave? Why would Steve leave? Even without the misspellings, this was one of the strangest conversations Steve had ever been a part of. He needed to-

<i>he aklreday hatres me bhuy at lessssst hes hereere right/?.</i>

Oh, God, what? Hating Tony was the furthest thing from Steve's mind!

<i>Why would you think he hates you?</i>

But he was also already moving for the stairs up to Tony's floor. He had to clear this up before Tony spent another night thinking so very many wrong things about him. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right, he might get what he'd been hoping for for months.

<i>2 drnk 2 goov er thius agan Whas uip w/u 2nijght?</i>

Steve paused in the penthouse living room to read, and almost sighed aloud. Apparently Tony had had the utterly wrong impression for a while now. Steve would just have to set him to rights. He was glad the bedroom door was ajar so he could slip silently through it and lean against the side of the closet, taking a moment to watch Tony, disheveled and hunched over his phone screen, almost swimming in his giant bed. “So I'm guessing 'Rhodes' and 'Rogers' are right next to each other in your phone book.” Tony's head snapped up and around, and then his face scrunched up, whether at the abrupt motion in his drunken state, or at Steve's presence, Steve couldn't tell, but he took a couple of steps forward anyway, wanting to say his piece before Tony could throw him out. “I'm glad, though. Honestly, the only thing I'm upset about is that it took so long for me to find out. How did I not know?”

Tony looked a little green around the gills, but he gamely pushed himself more upright, clutching the blanket to his chest. “Oh, God, I've been texting you this whole time? I <i>thought</i> Rhodey was acting a little weird... Are you here to tell me you're leaving? I'm sorry, I can get over it, I swear-”

Steve covered the last few feet to Tony's bedside in a couple of swift steps. “You'd better not. 'Cause then I'd have to get over mine, and I'd rather not.”

Tony gaped at him like a landed fish. “I- Your what? What are you-?”

Steve planted one knee on the bed and leaned in slowly. “I've had a crush on you for a while now. I just, I had no idea you were interested in men, let alone me. I can't stop thinking about-” And then either he got close enough, or Tony's drunk brain processed enough, and they were kissing. At first just a press of lips to lips, and even that was enough to set Steve's blood on fire, but then Tony opened his mouth a little, and Steve slipped his tongue into it, tasting champagne and toothpaste and coconut, and somebody moaned, or maybe they both did.

After a timeless moment, Tony pulled away, panting a little for breath. “Oh, wow, right into my favorite dream, that was good champagne...” He grinned, happy and loose, and leaned back in.

Steve kissed him back, almost helplessly, for another long moment, then shifted away, leaving a hand on Tony's shoulder. “Favorite dream, hmm? I have some questions, but I'm thinking they should wait til morning.” He considered his options, and decided to go for at least part of what he wanted. “If I get into bed with you, do you think you can refrain from molesting me until we've had a chance to talk?”

Tony blinked a couple of times. “You want to sleep here... and <i>not</i> have sex? I've gotta be awake, this is too weird to be a dream.”

Steve blushed, but he pushed gamely on. “See? That, there. I don't want you to wake up and think us having sex was a dream. Or a nightmare. I want to do this right.”

Tony practically melted in his arms, his face almost brighter than the arc reactor with his beaming grin. “That was almost painfully romantic, Cap. I really hope I remember it in the morning.” He lifted the corner of the blanket. “Now come cuddle me, you unbelievable sap.” Steve crawled in beside Tony and gathered him into his arms. They kissed again, and fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

[thenextromana]

Fantasy World Building

Seeking opinions!

So, I’m writing an original fantasy novel, and so far in the world-building I’ve included humans and centaurs. But something sparked a thought, and now I think I want hybrids that aren’t horse-based. I had it set up so that the society had never had horses, because they didn’t need them with sapients in the role, and I think I’d like to keep that aspect, but that’s not necessarily a limitation of any sort. I do think I want all the hybrids to be the same species or at least genus (there’s a story brewing about a world where Society A is all canines, and Society B is all felines, etc, but this is not that story) but we are not limited to mammals – reptiles, insects/arachnids, etc, are fair game. (Later books in the series may involve the discovery of octopus hybrids on another continent.)

Other world-building details: this society is actively and affirmatively both polytheistic and polyamorous, both centered around sets of five. (huh. Side note, I might adopt/adapt the Chinese five-element concept. Surprised I’ve only just thought of this.) Humans and hybrids are both found at every level of society and in every type of job. (As befits various body types, obvs, i.e. in farmwork the hybrid pulls the plow and the human walks behind and steers, that sort of thing.)

All that said, what animal(s) do y’all suggest I use for these hybrids? And/or: what would you call said people? How would their presence influence culture/society in general?

[thenextromana]

Clint Can Cook

(maybe not so much a prompt, just a bit of headcanon I wanted to get out into the world)

The division of labor was very clear in the Barton household: Dad brought home money (in theory, when he had a job and didn't spend his pay on booze that was practically moonshine), Mom did the cooking and cleaning, and Clint and Barney did all the other chores, like mowing the lawn (when it could be persuaded to grow in the first place). The circus followed a similar philosophy, in having one person who cooked for everybody. And SHIELD had cafeterias and canteens and take-out on stake-outs and all those modern conveniences.

But somehow Clint had still learned not just to cook, but to love cooking. (Maybe it had to do with the fact that whenever they got a moment alone together, his mom taught him her favorite recipes. He'd never say if it did.) And as a sniper, rather than a planner or an intelligence-gathering asset, he tended to have a lot of free time in interesting locations in the beginning stages of ops.

So he collected meals. He would wander the streets until his nose led him to an interesting restaurant or food truck or whatever, he would get something to eat, and then he would turn on the charm to cadge a recipe or two out of the cook. (Sometimes they guarded their secrets too closely for that to work, but he had no problem picking up and repeating the process somewhere else.) He would crowd as close as he thought he could get away with, watching their hands and their movements, the measurements and the precise height of a gas flame, and usually by the end of the day he would be making the dish to serve to patrons.

He didn't usually cook just for himself, though. Since he'd learned mostly from chefs, it tended to be large-batch stuff, and he didn't want to fill a fridge he hardly saw with leftovers that would just rot or get freezer burn. (Not to mention the hassle of gathering all the ingredients, and storing a giant wok, and explaining the smells to the neighbors...) But when he had a group to cook for (as he so frequently did now that he lived in Avengers Tower), he could make stir fries and curries and ceviche that even Tony Freakin Stark couldn't get enough of.

He still couldn't manage a fried egg over easy.