#And this is where Prime's anxiety began

[yuukirita]

Here you can see the exact moment his spark broke in half

Here's where you can read this au!

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass

Chapter 6 Preview

Masterpost

(The night Cass came home)

Tim rounded on Bruce as soon as Cass went up the stairs. “Something happened,” he said firmly.

Bruce nodded, brows furrowed up. “I agree. She was shaken. I observed that she was reticent and avoided eye contact at a conversational juncture where she normally does not.”

Tim agreed with a grim, sister-analyzing nod. “Her typing speed was significantly reduced. She was carefully choosing her wording.” Tim scanned over her brief report again and frowned. “There's not an electrical shock that would short out her suit without killing her.”

“So it wasn't electricity, or there was another factor.” Bruce frowned at his screen so hard it was probably cowering inside the code. “Neither Black Bat nor Marvel have any particular scientific competence. I would suggest-”

“Yeah.” Tim cut him off. He rolled his neck and thought it over. They sat quietly for a few minutes as Tim typed up his initial proposal. He broke the silence. “I'll hit up Young Justice and see who has time tomorrow to have a redux of all our creepy lab tours. There's something really weird about that place.” He paused. He side eyed Bruce. “Captain Marvel was right, huh?” He kept his tone deliberately innocent. “What a good catch on his part. I wonder how many people on monitor duty saw the town was dark and didn't think anything about it.”

Bruce grunted. He rolled a few inches back from his computer and picked up a stapled stack of reports. He began reading them intensely.

Tim interlaced his fingers and gave a stretch. Something popped in his back. “If only you'd believed him and let me go along with Black Bat when she said she was leaving,” Tim said wistfully. He was mostly just being a dick. They needed to find out what happened, but everyone was fine. This was a prime opportunity to needle at Bruce's weird reflexive hateration towards his most cheerful Justice League teammates.

Bruce lifted the reports just a little higher to block off his face.

Ha.

Tim left it at that and shut down for the night. Tim had really just been killing time until Cass got back for the night. He hit up the group chat with his mission proposal before he went to bed.

He belly flopped on top of his mattress without bothering to pull the covers over top and powered off easily for his clockwork 7.5 hours. He had weird dreams about Cass getting electrocuted. He woke up feeling unsettled.

“I know she said she got electrocuted,” Tim muttered. He sat up in bed. “But this seems dramatic. She's fine. She walked home and typed up a report.” He rubbed at his breastbone. He didn't know why he was so unsettled.

…Alright, that was a lie. Tim reframed his perspective a little more honestly.

No, no. He did. It was anxiety. He needed to feel he had control over the safety of his family. The way everyone had gone horrified and silent on comms when Cass’s suit reported a flatline to the main computer-

Tim’s stomach lurched. He took a minute to go through some breathing exercises.

It was just a false alarm. It was fine. Except that it had been truly terrifying and it proved that there was something seriously wrong with either their current tech or something extraordinary going on in some decommissioned mad scientist lair.

Fuck. He didn't like unknowns. He was eager to get to the bottom of this Amity Park incident.

Tim fished his phone off the charger and checked the group for responses, heart beat still pounding in his ears. So far, he'd heard yesses from Kon and Bart. Unfortunately, Cassie hadn't viewed the message yet.

He typed up meeting coordinates for the guys and sent it in the same chat. Hopefully Cassie would see it in time, but if not, three was probably enough for the trip.

Making specific plans settled his anxiety enough for him to find some appetite. He ended up very glad that he'd gone to breakfast.

He got an unexpected assist from both Cass and Damian on his point re Bruce's hateration at breakfast the next morning. Tim watched gleefully as they psychologically manipulated their father with opposite approaches.

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie worked undercover at Cadmus

So, Ellie has grown up and become an Adult living on her own by now.

She is doing her best to make the most out of her life. She went to school, graduated from College, and even got a Job.

She grew up in a Lab, and learned quite a bit about Genetic Engineering over the course of her life both before and after escaping (Both from Vlad, and from Danny during that Point in time where they were trying to permanently stabilize her).

So, when she gets an offer to join a new start-up Company called Cadmus, she jumped at the opportunity to use her Knowledge to help others. (She was told it was a Research Company that used Genetic Engineering to make medicines)

It wasn't until she had already signed the NDA that she figured out that this was an Illegal Cloning Lab.

Thankfully, she was immune to the Mind Control that they had tried to use on all of the Scientists to make them okay with all of the illegal shit, but she still had to play the part so she could help the poor clones who would be created in this project.

She went Undercover for years. Any time a Clone was deemed a "Failure", she would try her best to save them. She did manage to save a few, sending them to Danny so he could help them find a home, but unfortunately she couldn't save them all.

After a few years, the other scientists began to stress out. The K-Series had been a total failure so far, and none of the Clones had even come close to being Viable. Even the most successful one, identified as Match, couldn't come close to being called an actual success.

So, they went a different route. If Kryptonian DNA didn't want to be Cloned, then maybe they could splice it with some other DNA and force it to work with them?

The Scientists began splicing Human DNA into the Genome, running trials to see if it would be Viable at all before even attempting to create a Full Clone. And they did find some success, preliminary tests showed that Human DNA was uniquely adaptable when it came to splicing, and theoretically it could be used to make a Fully Viable Clone!

When Luthor heard of this, he deemed that nobody aside from himself was worthy of being the "Father", and gave his own DNA to the Scientists to use for the Experiment.

Ellie was put in charge of transporting the DNA to the Lab, but in a random accident (we both know it wasn't, Clockwork), she ends up dropping the Sample. In a rush, she just puts some of her own Blood into the Vial and gives it to the Scientists working on the Gene Splicing Project. (She was panicking, ok?! Nobody would be able to work in a lab like this without getting a little bit of anxiety, and she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in days at that point!)

They are thrilled! They don't know why, but Mr Luthor's DNA was so much better at Splicing than any other Human DNA they had ever tested before. He was certainly right about his own DNA being the beat suited for the Job!

Ellie meanwhile is having a bit of a meltdown. She can't believe she just gave them some of her DNA! And they already used it to make a Fetus! She's a mother now! She never wanted to be a Mom!

But she guesses that none of that matters anymore. She's has a son now, and she needs to get him out of there. But how to do it? As the only successful K-Series Clone, he was under the most heavily guarded security imaginable, so there was absolutely no way she would ever be able to sneak him out of there. Even if she used her powers, the Security was primed to scan for any and all foreign energy signatures, even Ecto Energy.

So for now, she was stuck. She couldn't break him out, and she also couldn't just leave the Company and let them abuse all those poor clones like that! She just needed to wait for the right opportunity to get her son out of there, even if it meant that she would have to stay behind.

It wasn't until a team of errant Sidekicks broke into the Lab a few years later, that she had a way out for her son.

[sleepyangelkami]

BLOODY NOSE s.harrington

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.6K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.

you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.

and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.

allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.

however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.

as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.

there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.

often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.

until he wasn't.

it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.

usually, this was steve's task.

he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.

even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.

the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.

"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.

honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.

steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.

unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.

"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.

"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.

holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.

"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.

you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?

you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.

finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.

steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."

he should have known not to utter those words.

almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.

bleeding?

the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.

steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.

he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.

steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"

once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.

"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.

"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."

however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.

he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.

you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.

but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?

surely, that had to count for something.

half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.

practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.

steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.

however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"

he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

[fizzyxcustard]

One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

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Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart

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(Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists)

[scarletwritesshit]

🌧️ Furina x Neuvillette 🌧️ Thoughts After the Rain

The image was still burned into Neuvillette’s mind.

That wretched sight of the Hydro blade descending onto Focalors, slicing her body in half and dissolving her remains into water droplets. He has dealt with his fair share of nightmarish scenes over the long years, not just recordings and accounts of crime scenes, but personally as the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. The work he took on as Chief Justice served as his relief from this strenuous mental toil. He focused his mind on the problems and solutions of the court rather allowing himself to be haunted by gruesome scenes time and again. His undertaking of extra work also lifted some of the weight off of Furina’s shoulders.

The stacks of work were doing him no good at this time. As much as he tried to suppress them, the tears would not stop flowing down his face, and his voice remained choked, rending him unable to confide in even the closest of his Melusines to relieve himself of his sealed up thoughts.

The way Focalors kept smiling at him until the bitter end, with not a single regret to be heard in her voice, ripped his heart far more than any plea of desperation could. He had a sworn duty to protect all under him - people, Melusines, even his own Archon. Where did he go wrong, he wondered? Focalors was no longer around for him to seek the answer to this question, and she left behind deceptions still buried behind that final smile.

No chance that Furina would know the full truth herself. She was the prime victim of her other self’s act, and even if she did know a sliver of the truth, it was highly unlikely that she would be willing to open up now. Neuvillette had advised her to take some time to herself as her own person at long last, and measures were taken so that none of the gossip hungry people of Fontaine could spend a single moment of their time harassing her. After 500 years of suffering, he knew that a few moments for Furina to focus on nothing except herself was an important first step in her recovery.

This also meant that he would be leaving her alone for the time being. He couldn’t help but wonder if this break was as truly beneficial as he hoped it to be. Though, he was also concerned that perhaps it was his longing to see the true Archon again that made him desire to see Furina so much. As days had passed with no sign of his tears or the rain letting up, he let out a regretful sigh thinking that perhaps, disturbing the solitude of Furina would be in the best interest of them both, as well as Fontaine’s weather. If Furina were to obejct to him in any way, Neuvillette hoped that she was still not afraid to make her voice be heard.

He came to her place empty handed, as he did not wish to communicate any intent of bribery. Rather, he simply wished to talk with her; even a single word from her would make him feel better about her condition.

Standing in front of her door, Neuvillette took a deep breath, attempting to relax himself and clear his mind. Though, he was still haunted by worst case scenario. He didn’t want to think about the very real possibility that Furina, too, could’ve fallen victim to the execution in a slightly different manner.

Just something, he thought, Anything to give me a slither of hope.

The more he stood there in silence thinking, the more the rain began to pick up. It was better that he gets things over with and knock, rather than let the entire nation flood once more…

He politely knocked on the door with the back of his hand. There was no audible response coming from the inside, which sent a wave of anxiety through Neuvillette. He told himself that there was no need for worry quite yet, and to give her a few minutes before he would knock again. Just before he was about to tap on the door once more, it cracked open, and Furina peered her eyes through the small opening. She looked up and down, scanning the man that stood before her, and allowed Neuvillette to enter once she gained a small amount of confidence.

Her place was drearily lit, with the only trace of illumination being what little sun managed to peer through the window. Neuvillette was relieved to see her alive and still fighting, but he still wanted to break the silence between the two of them, somehow. He couldn’t find any words in him to begin a conversation, not even enough for a simple greeting, as he wasn’t sure what was appropriate to say given the recent happenings. Neuvillette was filled with guilt that he could’ve done something to prevent all of this. Something to save those in Poisson, something to save Focalors, something to free Furina...

Furina sat at her window and looked out at the rain falling down.

"It’s been raining for a while, hasn’t it?" she said, watching the rain with a saddened expression.

"Ah...my sincere apologies," Neuvillette said, wiping the tears that he has been doing a poor job of suppressing.

"Don’t beat yourself up over it. Believe me, its fine. I hardly have a reason or even a will to step outside anyways."

"But Lady Furina-"

"Just Furina. I hold that title no more, Neuvillette."

"Out of my utmost respect for you, it does not feel right to refer to you so...casually."

"Neuv," Furina said, sliding around to face him, "Its fine. I don’t even deserve to be referred to with a name, as I couldn’t save my own nation from a crisis that I had 500 years to prepare for."

"How were you supposed to? You were expected to play the role of god as a mortal, nothing realistically could have been done by you in your situation. If anything, I am the one who should be shamed for their negligence."

"You didn’t know. You shouldn’t blame yourself," Furina said with a sigh.

"It is my duty to know when something is amiss. I have failed both you and my people," he said, averting his gaze.

"You…didn’t fail any of us. In fact, I feel like you’ve done too much for a failure like me. I always worried that you were going to leave me one day due to my incompetence, yet you never did, and for that, I’m...eternally grateful, to say the least."

"Well, I couldn’t leave you. Fontaine would be doomed to crumble in a matter of years if so."

"I probably would’ve crumbled within years."

"Which is why I was so afraid, personally. Losing the nation meant losing a dear friend of mine, yet in a way, I still feel as if I had lost part of her."

Neuvillette could no longer bare to look Furina in the eyes.

"I’m still here Neuv, even if that part of me is gone" Furina said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "And. you still have Fontaine in relatively good shape."

"Perhaps, but it was not without its losses. Those whose lives I failed to save.”

"You mean...those I have failed to save," she said, her hand sliding off of his arm.

The rain picked up again, and Furina was quick to notice the weeping Hydro Dragon struggling to even look at her. She couldn’t even lift her own spirits, but despite this, she felt as if maybe, just maybe, she could bring a little bit of relief to Neuvillette.

She could not stand seeing Fontaine drenched in rain. Not after all of the times she could’ve saved Neuvillette the trouble if she was actually worthy of being a god.

"Neuvillette...please don’t cry. Focalors had all of us ensnared in her performance," she said, attempting to reassure him.

Neuvillette was rather unresponsive to her effort, and it hurt Furina deeply to see him like this. She slid closer to the edge of the seat, closer to where he was standing, and wrapped what she could of her tiny body around Neuvillette. He looked down at the former "Archon" embracing him, feeling the hesitation in her body as she attempts to not overwhelm him with her sudden gesture of affection.

"If it weren’t for you," she said, now holding back her tears, "I don’t even know if I would still be around."

"Furina..."

"Please believe me when I say that I don’t fault you for anything of what has happened. I don’t like seeing you like this at all."

Years of suffering, and Furina was still so quick to forgive him? He couldn’t seem to believe it, but her words and her touch felt so genuine. And with the strings of Focalors finally severed, this was no act with the intent of putting on a show, either.

She wiped a tear from his eye, forcing herself to smile through her own pain, this time for the sake of Neuvillette and not a façade long held.

"Neuv, you’ve meant a lot to me all these years, and I want you to remain by my side as I live out the rest of my life as a human."

"That...is agreeable. In fact, I would be most delighted to be called your most trusted partner."

"More than just that," Furina said, relaxing into him. “And you can drop the formalities with me, too.”

Neuvillette, preferring to uphold his formal tone, decided that, perhaps just this once, he could allow himself a truly honest word with Furina.

“Is that so? I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I told you that…I love you?”

“No, not at all,” she said, no longer holding back her grip on his body.

As he gently stroked Furina’s back, Neuvillette glanced to his side out the window. He had noticed that for the first time in days, the rain had come to a complete halt.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Ignition (Part 4)

Gn human reader, Ratchet-centric

CW: Calling a person an it (unintentionally), mild language, mention of injury

Your head hurt in the morning. It wasn’t a surprise but it also wasn’t welcome. When you opened your eyes, the sky was brightening and the forest showed off its colors once again. You mumbled something about your body being sore while you sat up. Shaking off the drowsy lethargy of sleep, you were once again met with the sight of a giant robot. It was kind of hard to ignore the huge glowing blue eyes piercing your skull.

“Hey there big guy” You said nonchalantly. It just started back down at you, a sober expression on its face. For a second you thought you caught it squinting, but the thing turned away before you would get a good look. Taking this as a prime opportunity to look yourself over, you checked your injuries.

Most of the scrapes you got were scabbing over and in the process of healing. Your leg was still in the splint, but surprisingly it hurt a lot less. The pain wasn’t gone, and you didn’t expect it to be gone for awhile, but it was better. The burn you got was also healing from what you could tell. It could still be felt but at least it wasn’t searing anymore.

When the giant turned back to you it was holding the cup again. You breathed in sharply, wincing as you remembered just how you got that burn. It seemed to notice that, however, and quickly knelt down and set the cup in front of you. Reaching out to touch it, you realized it was cool. Cool and clean. Drinking water. Well, you hoped it was drinking water, but considering the lengths this giant had gone to help you it most likely wasn’t going to kill you. Tenderly you picked up the oversized cup.

“Thanks.” You forgot how thirsty you before you started to drink the water, and in a minute most of the cup was empty. A feeling of freshness washed down your body, but at the same time you began to question what would happen next. You would be well on your way to getting back on your feet if it weren’t for your leg- without crutches it could be weeks before you could safely and comfortably stand. Even if it did help you, what was the giant’s end goal? Why did it help you?

Luckily, it moved again before you could start spiraling. A giant hand, one you’d felt hopeless in before, now sat in front of you with its palm open. The giant wanted you to get on, that much was clear, however that was easier said than done. First of all you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get on. After all you didn’t know where it would take you, what if it didn’t let you go when you healed? What if… oh god, what if it kept you as a pet? The thought suddenly shook you to your core. Fond memories of your healing injuries turned sour.

When the blockade of distraction keeping you from doom spiraling was swept away your body began to tense. Just like so many times before thoughts of horrible things shot around in your head, and this time, unbeknownst to you, they weren’t internal. You mumbled to yourself, staring through the robot. Of course you were still in danger, why wouldn’t you be? You assumed you were safe but you had no evidence, just optimistic assumptions. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The hand still waited for you, but you had a hard time seeing it through watery eyes. Soon enough it retracted, not that you noticed. Subconsciously you expected it to come slamming down upon you. It didn’t. Instead, as you were falling down deeper into a horrible torrent of anxiety fueled panic, it pulled you out. Through one action you were brought back to the forefront of sanity, three simple words stopped the spiral.

“Are you okay?”

————————

The next cycle came quickly. Ratchet came out of recharge just as the planets’ star peaked over the horizon. The organic was still recharging, so he decided to get some work done. First he boiled (and cooled) some more water. Food would have to come later when he knew what to get. He also checked if he received any possibly missed signals- he didn’t. Frowning, but trying not to get discouraged, Ratchet noticed a small movement in the corner of his optic.

They were awake, which was good. Squeaking out some small sound that seemed to be directed at him, too. He offered them the water and they accepted, also good. Now it was time to move on. He needed to get back to the pod and try and get some sort of distress call out, though this time he couldn’t just pick up the probably sentient being in front of him. If he was going to gain more of their trust he needed to be patient, which was absolutely not something he wanted to do right now but it was also not optional. So Ratchet placed a servo in front of them hoping they would get the message and let him help them on.

Unfortunately they gave no indication they wanted anything to do with him. Actually, they seemed a little worse off than before. Their little optics began to water, something he’d noticed happening when he first found them, but now they also made hushed noises. Actually, he thought he could make some of the noises out to be words, but that would be ridiculous. Must be some result of the crash he’d have to figure out later. For now he needed to help.

Ratchet retracted his servo and asked a question almost out of instinct.

“Are you okay?”

——————

Surprisingly, his words seemed to reach you. You immediately snapped out of your dead stare and looked at him like you’d seen something impossible.

“What… was that?” You stammered out, still only half conscious.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Ratchet’s mind quickly picked up on what was happening, sort of. They reacted like that because they could understand him. And even more, he could understand them. And they were talking. And he needed to reply.

“You can talk. Why could I not understand you before…?” He trailed off in a confused but curious manner.

“Of course I can talk! How can you talk? What the fuck! Why didn’t you just start with that?!”

“Well- well, I- , oh. Oh.” The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Wheeljack. The translator. “Of course he would forget to put in a conformation of language synchrony— of all the things! That bolthead.” Ratchet’s face went from confusion to disturbed annoyance.

“Hey! What?” Heart beating out of your chest you shouted at the now talking giant robot, confused and surprised and frankly scared out of your mind.

“Yes, right. I’m sorry, this has got to be a lot for you.” He took a second to compose himself. “My name is Ratchet. I am from the planet Cybertron. I am a medic for my team- the Autobots- and my pod crashed here about a cycle ago. I need to get back to my friends.”

“What?” A million thoughts shot through your head and the only question you could get out was “what”. Fantastic start.

“I installed a translator not long ago, I assumed it would notify me when it kicked in, but the designer apparently didn’t think that would be an important feature, so I didn’t have the chance to softly introduce language. I apologize for that.”

This time you couldn’t even get out a word. Your emotional state was on a roller coaster with no sign of stopping, going from terrified to bewildered in less than a sentence.

“I… didn’t know you were, well, sentient at first. I didn’t ask before picking you up, and I’m sorry, but you were injured. I only want to help, but I can only do that if you let me. My job is to heal, not to hurt. I promise I will not hurt you.”

“I… I don’t… but… I- I just…. This, this… it’s a lot. This is so much. Oh my god.” Great! That was about a solid, what, five understandable words? Better than just “what” you supposed. Its- his own words hit your brain like a brick to a window. Cybertron, medic, Ratchet, Autobot, maybe it was all just some vivid nightmare. You knew better, of course, but a giant robot alien was kind of hard to believe.

“I can see that. I’ll give you some space- but please stay off that broken limb of yours?”

“… yeah… yeah….” You mumbled.

Ratchet. That was his name. He had a name. He wasn’t… was he a robot? He was made of metal… but he was from another planet, which is insane… are you insane? Maybe you’ve just gone crazy, but that wouldn’t explain the exuberant amount of pain you’ve felt in the last day. He’d helped you. A medic. Who didn’t know you were sentient at first. Which was also insane. Though, you didn’t think much of him either when you’d first met.

As your brain slowly started coming to terms with this bullet-to-the-face realization, you began to grip another concept: He wasn’t going to hurt you. You weren’t going to be chopped up, or squished, or kept as a pet. He wanted to go back to his friends, but he was trapped here. With you. And you were trapped with him. How ironic.

Breaths came in slower now, your heart began to give itself a rest. More questions filled your mind, some of which you already knew the answers to. You still didn’t know the one you’d had all along, at least nothing concrete. Gathering up what courage you could find lying in the dirt, you spoke up.

“What are you?” He turned back.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Are you, like, a robot?” It came out as a strange mechanical clanging sound, but you assumed he scoffed at that.

“I am a Cybertronian, not a robot. We are an autonomous race of mechanical beings.”

“Oh. Well… I’m a human. We’re… mammals, I think.”

“Alright, well do you have a name? Designation?”

“Ah, yeah, uh, I’m Doe.”

“Nice to meet you then, Doe.”

“It’s… nice to meet you too, Ratchet.” You smiled at him. It was an expression you didn’t think you’d give again after your panic spiral earlier, yet now, unsurprisingly to you, he smiled back.

“I take it you’re feeling better now?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry about earlier.”

“All understandable from what I can tell. But I do need to get back to my pod so I can work on signaling my friends, and you’re in no condition to walk on your own. I don’t think you’d want to be alone out here… so would you like a ride?” He spoke to you calmly, a comforting act in an uncomfortable situation. Ratchet set down his hand in front of you once again. “This isn’t horribly offensive in your culture, is it?”

“No, no, I’m just… not used to it. We don’t have… there aren’t… nothing is as big as you, nothing living at least. I just need a second.” He nodded thoughtfully. You began to move toward his hand, which went as well as anyone would expect. Sheepishly you make a request. “Actually, I might need some help.”

“I’ve got it.” With another giant hand he pinched your midsection lightly with two fingers. You were lifted up higher than you felt necessary, but were swiftly deposited on his palm anyway. After you adjusted to the old, scarred, metal seat, the world toyed with your stomach as it dropped. The corresponding motion Ratchet made, him standing up, took you a second to recover from. Bet even before you could register the disorientation he asked you another question.

“Are you alright?” Slowly at first, then more confidently you nodded.

Your body swayed with each step. It made you nauseous. However, conversation had always been a good distraction for you, and this robot- no, Cybertronian was in no short supply.

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

Hello everyone and happy new year! I figured I’d cap this one off before the year ended in my time zone. “Ignition” is not fully over, I’ll be adding to it some more (most likely fluff), but I’ve got some other plans for this AU. After all, Ratchet wasn’t the only one with an escape pod.

That being said I hope everyone has enjoyed my silly stories this December! Have a good day, night, morning, or afternoon wherever you may be!

[boredgirl2004]

Day 3: Bill and the Universe 

The page immediately turned to a blank page that quickly formed letters from my blood, There was a sketch of the book that revealed a human spin inside, an ‘X’ with an arrow pointing at it that said Lick here which, is something I won’t do. There was a paragraph under the drawing that said : 

“Congrats on your new book, The Book of Bill, Which will be your new guide of life forever! If you’re starting to have second thoughts about reading it, too bad! There’s no way to get rid of this book! Go ahead, throw it away! I DARE YOU! IT WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE GRAVE. 

The book contains:

A real human spine! I wonder who they stole it from? 

“Paper” made from pressed, pureed human brain matter. I can invade anything with neurons, so you may already be a winner!

1,000 free paper cuts, to be awarded to 1,000 lucky readers at random! Check your fingers; you may already be a winner! 

A whole secret that you probably won’t find.

A soul. If you burn this book, it WILL scream. 

BEES!

Below the list of what the book contains, there was a verification tab that read “I am not Dipper Pines.” I don't know who that is but I might as well check it, I gently pressed my thumb on the tap, and once I pulled it off; it revealed my bloody thumbprint. I heard a distorted bing sound, I looked around the room only to see nothing, I was already losing my mind by imagining things…although nothing seemed to be real, I had to keep reminding myself of tha-

“Ah, the classic ‘I am not Dipper Pines’ verification! Nice touch, huh? It’s all part of the fun, the thrill, the… insanity? But let’s not kid ourselves here—this isn’t just your imagination. This is something far more interesting. You’re on the brink of discovering secrets that most people can only dream of! Sure, things might get a little bloody and a tad unnerving, but that’s the price of admission to the greatest show in the multiverse! Keep your cool, keep that book open, and let’s see where this wild ride takes you. Who knows, you might even enjoy it!” I looked down on the page for Bill and saw that my thumbprint was no longer there and all that remained was a checkmark in the verification box, On the next page showed the table of contents of the book, There were 5 chapters of this book, The introduction chapter that contained information of Bill. A guide to everything that Bill knows, his origin story, a chatper titled “Sixer” from what I could only assume was about Standford Pines and last, the final chapter that conveyed a plan- to what you may ask? I wasn’t sure at the time.  I can see Bill in the bottom corner of the page in those tiny vintage bowls that would contain old hard candy but there were only deer teeth? 

“Well, I hope you don’t disappoint me, Bill. I look forward to what that mind brings from these chapters, especially on the Parallel Dimensions and Urban dimensions page! Also don’t worry about my insanity, I’m already there with my crippling anxiety and many, many unresolved issues!” I said with laughter, bill laughed as well, his laughter was so loud that it began to echo along the walls, 

“Oh, disappointment? Not in my vocabulary! You’re about to dive headfirst into the twisted realms of Parallel Dimensions and Urban Dimensions—where reality bends and logic breaks! Crippling anxiety and unresolved issues? Perfect! You’re already primed for the wildest ride of your life! Embrace the insanity, relish the chaos, and let’s tear down the walls of reality together! We’ll explore the unknown, defy the impossible, and dance on the edge of madness! Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet!” He said with gleeful madness as I looked at my bedroom door anxiously, hoping no one in my house heard that. I could only assume Bill felt this quick change in my demeanor. His laughter is cut short, his tone shifts slightly; still sounding chipper but more calculated. “Oh, worried about dear old mom and dad busting in, huh? I hear ya, my folks were like that as well but as I always say! The thrill of secrets, the fear of getting caught—is delicious, isn’t it? But don’t worry, kiddo, they can’t hear me. This is our little adventure, just between you and me. Keep those fears close; they’ll make the journey even more exhilarating! Now, let's get back to those mind-bending chapters before anyone interrupts our fun. Remember, the best discoveries are made on the edge of fear!” I was kind of listening to Bill but my full attention was glued to my door, as a way to reassure myself, I could hear Bill sigh from the page. 

“C’mon, kiddo! Don’t let the fear of Ma and Pops hold you back from greatness! This journey’s packed with mind-blowing wonders that’ll make you shine! My own family? Oh, they were a real piece of work, but we’ll save that juicy tidbit for later. For now, focus on what you truly want, and watch them beam with pride once you pull it off! I’ll be right here, your trusty guide through the chaos. Get comfortable! Eat some deer teeth—trust me, it’s a delicacy! Let’s dive into this wild ride together!” He said comfortingly as he tossed a single deer tooth from the page, causing it to pass through the brain matter page and into my hand. I smiled politely and gently placed the tooth on the side of the book. “Thanks but I’m not a teeth person but I appreciate the snack!” I said politely as Bill's eye turned into a mouth and chomped on the tooth he held in his hand. “How is he able to eat stuff with his eye? Is it an odd feeling?” I thought to myself as I watched him chew on his weird choice of a snack. I decided to turn the page and I saw a small biography page, “About me” it read, a picture of a beautifully sketched brain was below the words, I began to read the paragraph under it.  To me, it reminded me of a dictionary: 

“Bill,  noun 1. The most important triangle in history; your new best friend, life coach, overlord, style consultant, mentor, mental case, mastermind, and mind master.

So you wanna know about me?

Well, folks, I’m just as rascal! A mischievous fella! A funny little guy! But no matter how loudly I try to scream my intentions, everyone seems to think I’m “evil” or “a sociopath” or “ruining this funeral by playing a slide whistle everytime someone says the name of the deceased.” But I’m not a bad guy! I just operate on my own frequency.  Cosmically and morally! I’ve tried wearing I’ve tried wearing this shirt to explain.” There was an arrow that pointed at bill who, was now wearing a pink shirt that was too big on him, it read “ Umm… I’m a little Different get used to it” Different and get used to it were in two different fonts to express Bill intense and weird personality, and to top it off there was a kiss mark on the shirt. I continued to read the page

“Think of me as your friend who can never die. A bad idea and a good time. The guy pulling the strings behind the unknowable veil of perception. And I have a cute little bow tie. I’ve by many names. Network censors call me “A lawsuit waiting to happen.” Therapists call me “ A sign that the medication isn’t working.” Serial killers call me “Honestly surprisingly down to earth.” Wherever there’s a hand to shake and a deal to make, buddy, I’m there.” There was a centipede that had words on its back that read “Bill Cipher, dream demon. Screen to contact.” To me, this was very odd but then again, so far, Bill is showing himself to be a very odd person. Despite the weird bug on the page, I continued to read the page, looking at the bug to make sure it wouldn’t move on its own to scare me. 

“Look I get it-you're probably craving the rare, never-before details about my life, huh? Well, I haven’t done an interview in a billion years or so, but just you I’ll go to the only unbiased source in the entire multiverse: Me!” 

On the next page, it resembled those celebrity magazines on the latest gossip on Hollywood that you would see in Target or Walmart. Bill was the center on the picture, his hands held together while he sat at a table that had an arrangement of items for a day out for tea. The magazine was titled “The Bill Magazine” The page turned on its own to reveal two Bill Ciphers sitting on two couches across each other. Bill asked himself questions and Bill answered them like any other celebrity would. There would be personal questions, questions to rumors that are given a not-so-straightforward answer, and questions about the person's actions and how they took accountability with a video they posted on the internet. I marveled at the pictures that were taken of Bill from photographers and honestly, the one with Bill wearing pants the wrong way, cracked me up. (I didn’t feel like writing the whole thing because there are soooo many things that I’m gonna have to crack this chapter in separate parts but I can’t decide where to cut it off because I like to make my stories long. I always hated when people made fanfics and then they are cut short everytime which leaves a hangover or it isn’t ongoing anymore but I understand because life gets hella busy so might as well make mine hella long so you guys can have a huge chapter to read until the next one comes out! I apologize but I know what I must do. So If I cut off a page in the book that you liked, I am sorry!!)

As I turned to the next page, Bill was floating in the endless void of space, images of his “eyes” were all over the book that seemed to be pictures that were taken in real life. His presence seemed to be everywhere whether it would be his triangular shape or his eyes. 

“I SEE ALL” 

He said creepily. 

“It’s time to tell you about my unholy powers! Like a potato grew too close to Chernobyl, I’ve got eyes everywhere. Any symbol of me that you draw, scratch, spray-paint, or burn into the human world creates a direct peephole from my reality to yours! The more I see, the more my power grows! The more my power grows, the more fun we can have when you and I finally meet! Wanna help Put me somewhere no one would ever expect! (Just keep me out of the shower, you freak!!)” I cringed at whoever could do something like that but people are people. They’ll do something like that cause you know, cringy crushes or as Ford put the other group of people “EDGY”. I turned the page once more and read Bill's powers which had ranged from Mind reading, possession, ciphervoyance, charisma, pyrokinesis, and…Looking amazing in formal wear? Also, Geometric perfection? I looked at the two of Bill's powers with confusion, I get charisma because I mean, it takes a lot to be smooth when most people are anxious and overthink like myself but everyone falls for it because charisma is a person's weakness. Speaking of weaknesses. I wonder what weaknesses Bill has. I read the other page or well tried to before Bill just lifted the page and spoke out in anger, his appearance taking a glowing red hue. “HOLD UP!! You really thought I was gonna give you step-by-step instructions to taking me down?” Here we were getting along, and you try to stab me in the back! You know what-because you tried to peek at this- I’M CANCELING THE BOOK! That's right, you drove me to this! From this point on, you’re reading The Great Gatsby, instead. BOOK OF BILL OVER!!!” Before I could react the page turned to a portion of The Great Gatsby. I sighed and spoke softly. “Bill, how I could I have stabbed you in the back when you had your weaknesses in the about you chapter of this book? After all, you made this book.” I get no response. Only for the page to be turned again. I roll my eyes at how petty he was trying to be, “Okay you sassy Dorito, be that salty. I would rather read The Great Gatsby and how it explains metaphors that corresponded with the world during that time!” I read the pages of The Great Gatsby until Bill burst through the last page, white out in his hand that he used to cover the end of the page to write what he wanted to say. “ OKAY OKAY ENOUGH!”  I crossed my arms as he yelled his red hue remaining, my face was unfazed by his little outburst. “Yeesh, I get it, the billboard is a metaphor, the American Dream is bittersweet, yak, yak, yak! Look, I might have been a little hasty. Not even a meat pile like you deserves to experience “required reading.” I guess maybe I’m a little touchy about my weaknesses ever since…It’s not important, Let’s just say that none of the life-forms who have tried to figure out what my “weaknesses are” have lived long enough to compare notes.” I looked at him with a cold expression until it quickly faded. “Look I understand why you are upset but again, how was I supposed to know you’re sensitive about something like this? I know I have to get to know you and I appreciate that you are telling me things about yourself that no one will ever hear and see but me but please be if not fully but somewhat aware of your sensitivities.” Bill's yellow hue returned to his triangular form, he looked at me with a bit of respect and arrogance. Once he spoke, his voice was a mixture of a sardonic edge with an undertone of begrudging respect from my words. 

“Oh, so you’re playing the understanding card, huh? I see you’re trying to navigate my labyrinth of quirks and sensitivities. Well, points for effort! Sure, I’ve got my share of touchy spots, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? A little sensitivity here, a little chaos there—it’s all part of the game. Just remember, in this world of mine, the unexpected is the norm. So buckle up and let’s keep this wild ride rolling. The more you get to know me, the crazier the adventure will be!” I sighed picked up the book and walked to my bed, I sat on my bed. My pillow was against my back, the book was now on my lap. “It’s less of understanding but it's more of letting you know that if you know good and well that I’m gonna get to know you, I’m also going to see the more sensitive parts of you that make you vulnerable If you can’t handle sharing certain information then maybe wait until you are ready to let me in on that personal level, until then, if you don’t like it, don't give me that sass for your actions” I said politely as I continued to stare at him. 

He crackles mockingly and playfully speaks as a way to challenge my words. “Oh, so you’re laying down the law, huh? Fair enough, I get it—boundaries and all that jazz. But hey, this whole thing is a dance, and I didn’t think you’d be afraid of stepping on a few toes. If you’re gonna wade into my personal chaos, you’d better be ready for the mess that comes with it! I’ll dial back the sass if you promise to keep your curiosity sharp and your sense of adventure sharper. Deal?” I shake my head at Bill's response; 

“Well, I mean, it's common sense and I’m placing a boundary because it seemed like you don’t like bringing it up so I might as well politely remind you that you don’t have to if you don’t want to speak about them. Take it as you will I don’t care unless you do care that I’m putting a boundary for your sake.”  I say nonchalantly, showing my true intentions and speaking whatever words pop out of my brain but that's just how my mind works. I do not think things over but I say what comes into my mind because it's how I feel or see things. It’s just my honesty and it has gotten me in trouble a few times. Bill’s voice takes on a slightly defensive but playful tone. “Oh, boundaries and common sense—what a combo! I get it, you’re playing it safe and looking out for me. How very considerate! I’ll keep that in mind, no need to twist my eye into a pretzel over it. If it makes things smoother and keeps the fun rolling, who am I to complain? Boundaries, schmountaries—just don’t let it cramp your style too much. After all, a little chaos is what makes this adventure truly wild!”

I gave a witty response back to Bill “Well, if we must go through chaos then I might as well be respectful, no matter how crazy this book and its author is.” Bill only laughed and wiped the tear from his eye “Sure, Whatever ya say kiddo but I do have to say, I’m starting to like ya!” he said with amusement. 

As I turned the page, it revealed another letter from Stanford Pines. 

“STANDFORD PINES HERE 

If you’ve reached this page, then you ignored my instructions and have begun to read The Book of  Bill. You can’t hear the long disappointed sigh I’m making right now, but I assure you it's devastating. Yes, I’m judging you-you’re making a terrible mistake! I don’t know what ridiculous things Bill is telling you right now, but I assure you none of it is true, useful, or in good taste. I took a glimpse at the book myself, and it was mostly extremely complex and riddles- he’s trying to bait me into solving them because he knows my curiosity is my Achilles’ heel. And he’s counting on yours being the same! If you’re the type is ignore reason even when it’s staring you in the face, then I’m sure the last thing you want is to be scolded by some old man, wagging one of his 6 fingers at you. Chances are, you’re at some desperate point in life. Perhaps you have lost something dear to you, or you’re in the throes of some all-consuming monomaniacal ambition. Or perhaps you just are attracted to things that haunt you.  As a cipherholic myself, I want you to know there is another way. Close this book right now.  Go on with your life. Maybe take up an exciting hobby like cataloging the wing patterns of various types of various types of rare tree-bark-dwelling moths.  I’ve pinned one of gravity falls, “Goth Moths” here. You’d probably be into that sort of thing. Or you can keep turning the pages to see what absurd thing he’s distracting you with next. What's going to be-a tantalizing glimpse of your future, perhaps? How to speak to trees? Something obviously impossible, like how to make a nuclear bomb out of ducklings? It’s not worth it. Trust me. YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME.” I take in his warnings but I can’t help but not really appreciate Ford's avoidance of confrontation. I’m not doubting his knowledge because he seems protective to whoever gets their hands on this book (despite being a complete stranger) but what if the only way to destroy the book was to find it on the inside rather than leaving it closed because what if the book tries to find another victim? How can we stop them when there will always be that one person who’d end up falling for it and letting him out? If Ford truly is trying to avoid Bill coming back, then I might as well find a way and if I don’t I’m gonna make sure this book stays with me until I bring it to the right person and the only person I could ever bring it do was Standford Pines. I looked at the moth that was pined on the page, it was pretty to me, I could see why they call it the “Goth Moth” I’m sure all the goth kids love this moth and would want to keep it as a beautiful pet of the night, the face on the wings remind me of that Halloween and Christmas movie I watched as a kid. 

I turn the page, keeping Standford's warnings at the back of my head. I saw Bill looking into a keyhole of a large door that said atop the frame “The Secrets of the Universe”. On the right of the page. I hear Bill speak “Oh, hello there. You just caught me peeking at all the secrets of the universe! The meaning of life, what everyone’s saying about you behind your back, how to make s functioning atomic bomb out of ducklings, blah blah blah blah, boring stuff like that and my entire journey through history. You wouldn’t be interested! Hmm? What’s that? Okay, I can tell you by how comically wide your eyes are getting that you really wanna know what’s behind this door! Look…normally I only share my unholy knowledge with close personal henchmen…but you seem like the type of human who can keep infinite secrets. All right. I’ll consider letting you take a peek…IF YOU CAN PASS MY TEST. I need to know your mind is powerful enough to handle my deep, dark secrets without your brain melting out your ears and staining your shirt. Lucky for you I keep one of these brain-power tests with me at all times in case I come upon a potential new V̶i̶c̶t̶i̶m̶  best friend!” I was concerned about how he said the victim and quickly changed the word to best friend. I don’t know how badly I’m screwed but hey, I wanted to open the book with hope that I could destroy it and I accept that and my fate from how this all goes.  I hear Bill's cheery voice,  “Get that pencil sharpened buddy!-it’s time to see what you’re made of! (Aside from bile and dead skin flakes.)” He said as he, I guess smiled at me and then turned his attention back to the door and muttered to himself, “Oh-oh-OH! No kidding? Wow, they should NOT have published that…” 

As I grabbed a pencil off my nightstand and turned the page, the test was confusing and seemed impossible to me, it was filled with images, puzzles, scenarios, and riddles that made little to no sense. I sat there heavily confused, I didn’t know how to answer them, even if I tried; so to make it easier on my brain because I began to have a headache from reading and trying to figure it out; I turned the pages until I got to the answer key page. There were two answers “You Failed” and “You passed”  in all caps on the page. At first, I thought I had failed by not answering the questions but to my surprise, I didn’t fail. I looked at the page my brows furrowed with confusion. After that weirdly long and confusing test; not answering the question was the answer to this overly complicated test? I saw a picture of two figures, one was familiar and the other wasn’t. It was a drawing of Standford next to a little boy with the same lost expression. Was this boy his grandson? Nephew? I wasn’t too sure but you can see it from a mile away that they were related. Although the comment about them was distasteful to me. “Pictured guys who like homework. Not pictured girlfriends.” I mean I understand why no one likes homework but its there to make sure we understand the things we have learned and we continue to use this useful knowledge into our adulthood. (I wasn’t very good in school but it's still good to know things even when you know damn well you won’t use a majority of the things you learned but it's still necessary.) Bill appeared as a clay figure on the right of the page that had a cuckoo clock with other clay figures of himself. 

Bill’s laughter crackles and echos throughout my room. “Well color me impressed, dollface! You’re not as dumb as I thought you were. Not many can navigate the twisted paths I lay out, but you? You’ve got that special spark. You’ve proven you’re not just some ordinary mind; you’ve got the guts, the brains, and just the right amount of crazy to keep up with me! Now that you’ve earned your place, the real fun begins. Get ready, because from here on out, things are only going to get weirder, wilder, and a whole lot more dangerous! Welcome to the next level, kid!” He said as he pulled on the straps of his lederhosen with an impressed look in his eye as he stared at me. 

“Before we continue Bill, I have something to ask you about the test,” I said with a hint of curiosity. Bill propped his foot on a log as he put his hands on his….uh. I guess I’m gonna say his triangular form since he has no hips- and spoke in playful suspicion, he gives an intrigued stare. “Oh? A question, you say? Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but I like where this is going. What’s on your mind, kid? Ask away—but be careful, the answers might just be more than you bargained for!”

“Was the point of the test supposed to be that how to understand your knowledge of everything is that the universe is a weird, chaotic place that may seem complicated but it is as the test? It’s a thing that will confuse someone but you just have to turn a page and see that no matter whether you answer, there isn’t a correct answer at all, it's just all complicated and choatic either way?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion

Bill burst into laughter of amusement and approval, his voice practically oozing with his twisted satisfaction, “Bingo! You’ve hit the nail right on the head! The universe is a swirling mess of chaos and contradictions, and trying to make sense of it is like trying to solve a puzzle with no pieces! The test wasn’t about finding the ‘right’ answer—it was about embracing the madness, realizing that there isn’t a neat little solution waiting for you. The universe is weird, unpredictable, and gloriously chaotic, just like me! And the sooner you accept that, the more fun you’ll have playing the game. So, what do you say? Ready to dive deeper into the madness?”

Now…this was my first mistake, despite the previous warnings I had reminded myself from Ford's letters, I fell into Bill's trap and I can say this with genuine honesty; I wanted to know how Bill viewed everything. From life to death, and I even wanted to know his life, what made him the being he was-is? I felt genuine curiosity because if there was no right answer and we have to just accept the universe as it is then maybe the universe itself accepts you as you are, People's views on anything and everything is chaotic, confusing, and different just like how the universe is; yet we still continuously find answers when there isn’t one and it doesn’t matter if there was one, just be happy with whatever you got and accept that the universe is weird, and as Bill put it, “a whirling mess of chaos.” I felt like my overly complicated question that people, and even my own family would raise an eyebrow to was finally answered by someone who could answer it. I didn’t feel ashamed to ask these weird questions. I felt happy that my question was answered. 

“Heck yeah, I am!! I wanna see all the weird views and knowledge you have on anything and EVERYTHING! Even about yourself!!” I say happily as I give Bill a genuine smile. Bill's eyes widened with delight, his voice laced with a manic excitement as he spoke, “Now that’s the spirit! I knew you had it in you! You’re diving headfirst into the unknown, eager to unravel every twisted secret, every bizarre truth! And trust me, kid, I’ve got plenty to share—about the universe, reality, and even a little about yours truly! You’re in for a wild ride, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner in chaos! So, buckle up, keep that smile wide, and let’s tear through the fabric of reality together! There’s no turning back now!” I turn the page to reveal the title of this new chapter. 

(I will update this once I am fully done with the chapter since this will go over a lot of pages in the book! So, I am taking shortcuts and narrowing some making the important ones longer and giving more Bill interactions. Also, I changed the titles to days so I can make it really seem like it's a journal or crazy post from an insane person because it's not real and this writing is just for fun.)

[head-post]

Violent anti-Muslim crowd clashed with UK police in Southport after young girls killed

A large crowd of anti-Muslim protesters clashed with police in the northern English town of Southport, where three girls were stabbed to death and five other children were seriously injured in an attack at a Taylor Swift-themed event a day earlier.

A horrific stabbing incident in Southport on Monday shocked the British people. However, police claimed it was not terrorism-related and that the suspect was born in the UK.

Nevertheless, national-oriented groups fuelled rumours that the suspected teenager was linked to Islam, and police reported that Tuesday’s violence erupted when several hundred people began throwing objects at the mosque. Police has linked the crowd to the English Defence League, a group that sometimes stages violent demonstrations against Islam.

Police cars were damaged and set on fire, officers were attacked with bricks and large rubbish containers. Away from the violence, hundreds of people gathered for an emotional vigil to pay tribute to those killed in the attack by laying flowers and toys. Earlier, Prime Minister Keir Starmer also made a visit to the town to lay flowers.

“The people of Southport are reeling after the horror inflicted on them yesterday. They deserve our support and our respect. Those who have hijacked the vigil for the victims with violence and thuggery have insulted the community as it grieves. They will feel the full force of the law.”

However, after the visit, disgruntled residents approached him with insults and condemnations after which he was forced to leave the town.

Stabbing details

A 17-year-old is currently in custody on suspicion of murder and attempted murder following a bloody rampage at a “Taylor Swift yoga and dance workshop,” a summer holiday for children aged 6 to 11. Besides the three deaths, eight children were stabbed.

Five of them and two adults who were trying to protect them remain in critical condition. Assistant Chief Constable Alex Goss stated:

There has been much speculation and hypothesis around the status of a 17-year-old male who is currently in police custody and some individuals are using this to bring violence and disorder to our streets. We have already said that the person arrested was born in the UK and speculation helps nobody at this time.

The Liverpool Region Mosque Network said a minority of people had tried to use the Southport stabbing to spread hate.

“This evening we have seen distressing scenes outside Southport Mosque with angry protesters gathering outside. This is causing further fear and anxiety within our communities.”

King Charles and his family expressed their horror. US singer Swift also wrote on Instagram that she was “just completely in shock.”

These were just little kids at a dance class. I am at a complete loss for how to ever convey my sympathies to these families.

Read more HERE

[noname-nonartist]

(If you're not comfortable with ask games, feel free to ignore)

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish them, and send this ask to the last 10 people in your notifs!

@not-so-empty-sekai (side blog)

your art is so good btw :3

Oh? A song ask-chain game? Sounds fun! :Dc

Hmmm. Okay, how about this!

I’ll list 5 songs that are pjsk songs (since I’ve been listening to them a lotttt), and 5 other songs that aren’t pjsk related, to mix things up a bit! >:3c

Okay? Nice~

Let’s gooooo!!! (List under the cut)

Side Note: Thank you for saying my art is good! It made my day! >///<

PJSK Songs that I listen to~

1. Bake no Hana

Of course this song is gonna make it into the list! Because ever since Mizu5, I’ve just been listening to this every dayyyy :’)

Mizu5 wreaked me emotional for reals, for realssss ;v;

2. Ultra C

I’m so proud of vbs for finally surpassing RAD Weekend! It was such a good event, and an even banger song! The moment where Miku gave one last encouragement to Kohane? So good. Ahhh! Of course the scene afterwards where vbs when to visit Nagi’s grave! Ahhhhh! It punched me in the guts! In a good way tho! TvT

3. Watashi Wa Ame

I know it’s a joke that all of Ena’s events are about her struggles as an artist, and while it’s true. I do think they mix it up enough and show Ena’s character growth throughout it super well. And this event is the prime example of that.

Her getting insight of what her father struggled with as an artist. Ena learning how she was the main inspiration for his father’s possible last painting. How he sees her as a hope of light in his darkest times. How he genuinely loves and wants to protect her (albeit not in the greatest way as we all know). And how she grew so much in both understanding and confidence to understand her father’s intentions.

It’s such a really nice event for me that also got me emotional. Also the song is so gooddddd~ *v*

4. Regulus

Yepppp, a Leo/Need song! It’s such a banger!

While I’m not that well versed on Leo/Need compared to N25 and VBS, I did read Honami’s stories (look, my adhd brain be hopping around the storyline like crazy whenever i gets attached to a character lol)

And i just gotta say, I’m so proud of Honami! She has definitely grown so much since the main story.

Her initially lacking the confidence to make a decision due to her anxiety, fears, and people pleasing tendencies. (that caused her to initially be distant from her closest friends, and caused her to be depressed during that time)

To now. Being confident to speak truthfully about her feelings and standing up for herself and Leo/Need (seen in the Little Braver event). And now she’s an offical leader of Leo/Need! Ahhhh! So proud of her! >v<

5. Watashi Wa, Watashitachi Wa

Bang! A More More Jump song to finish off this list! >:Dc

And once again, I’m not as well versed in the MMJ, but my adhd brain did get attached to Shizuku, hence me reading the her event stories (i still have read Shizu4 yet tho… •3•;)

But anyway! I absolutely love this song and the event that is associated with it. It’s such a good way for Shizuku to face her past and show how much she has grown and is willing to be more proactive to be the best idol she can be, as herself.

It also gave more insight what happened during her time in Cheerful*Days and how the rift between the members began. Fleshing out the members and showing a more complex situation than a simple jealousy situation at first glance.

And like the song is so catchy and hopeful, a perfect song that embodies Shizuku’s determination. :3c

Oh shoot. That took longer than expected uhhhh… Rapid fire non-pjsk song list, go!

Non-PJSK Songs:

1. 雨乙女 (Ameotome)

2. Sing The Moon

3. Yubikiri Genman

4. ThoughtCrime

5. いばら (Ibara)

[bubble-popping]

day 13! almost two weeks :0 this time some follower!dream and XD content :]

He passed the pews, forever empty in humanity's foolhardy attempt to ignore their powerlessness. Dream would never understand it. Not after everything he'd witnessed. The so-called Church of Prime; nothing more than a moniker for the true deity of the server. At the podium, staring out the stained glass windows, stood Them. The One. The Everything. The Beginning and the End. DreamXD, his God.

In billowing green robes where no wind existed. An intimidating figure of double his size and height, made larger by multiple pairs of pure white wings. Topped with ever-spinning, criss-crossing, all-seeing halos.

The mere sight of Them put Dream in seventh heaven, replenished all the energy he'd just spent for the last several hours.

Before the short steps to where They stood, Dream kneeled, bowing his head. Hand over his heart, mask off. He knew XD could see through it anyway.

"My Lord, Your prophet has returned."

"Hm?" They looked back over Their shoulder, and a certain giddiness filled Dream in seeing Them manifested as a humanoid. "Ah, my Dreamer! I assume you have completed your mission?" Their voice echoed in the small church, reverberated in Dream's sternum, buzzed in his ears even after They stopped talking. Like a thousand different voices speaking at once.

Nothing could ever make Dream feel more loved than that nickname.

"Indeed, Your Voidness. L'Manberg is but a hole to the deepest layers of bedrock. Nothing shall ever exist there again."

"Oh, excellent. It seems that Blood God follower and the Angel of Death were better allies than I anticipated. My Dreamer's strategic little mind never ceases to amaze Me."

"Your praise is most appreciated, My Guardian."

"What would My little Dreamer think of adding them to Our cause?"

A cold fear washed over his body. Something wretched gripped his heart, squeezing and suffocating.

He cleared his throat, painfully aware of the heaviness of his tongue and texture of his teeth. "I don't think they'd understand."

XD hummed thoughtfully. He felt Their presence approach, though They made no sound. The hem of green robes entered his limited field of vision. "And why do you think that?"

There were so many things he could say, too many, and they all revealed the weakest parts of him. The jealousy and selfishness. The anxiety and desperation. The base passions and carnal instincts. Everything that still made him human.

"Sweet Dreamer of Mine," They continued, and Dream scolded himself for not answering when spoken to. "Come on now. Be honest with Me. What's it really about?" Dream couldn't lie even if he wanted to. XD knew everything, saw everything, heard everything. These mission reports were more a formality than a necessity.

Fingers pressed from under his chin, forcing his gaze upwards. They also wore no mask.

Their touch froze his skin, sent jolts of electricity straight to his brain in mismatched signals of fight or flight, but Their eyes kept him pinned in place. Spheres of swirling darkness dotted by countless stars pierced through his flesh to peer at his very soul.

"I..." he began. The truth spilled out before he could even think, "I can't bear the thought of someone unworthy sitting at Your feet the way I do, My Lord."

A grin split Their face in half, rows of sharp, perfect whites peeking through. "You've grown quite possessive, Dreamer. Do you wish to own Me? Do you wish to own an all-powerful, all-knowing god such as Myself?"

Dream swallowed thickly. This felt like Judgement. "I only seek to please You, Your Voidness."

They hummed and observed him for a moment longer before pulling away. A bottomless emptiness replaced where They'd touched. "A wise answer." With that, They turned, and Dream was able to take a full breath. "And what about that mercenary of Yours?"

"Punz? What about them?"

"Well, you two seem close. Would he make a good follower? Perhaps even a votary?"

Dream scoffed, shaking his head. "Not a chance. He's not religious at all."

"Neither were you before you met Me."

"That's..." The blond hesitated before sighing. "That's true."

"And don't you think I deserve more of a following? Wouldn't you want to expand Our numbers? To further Our cause?"

"Of course, My Guardian, that's all I-"

"Then it's settled. Speak with them. Bring him to the Meeting Place. He will learn to revere just as you have."

"As You wish, My Lord." Dream bowed his head once more before rising to a stand and fixing his mask back into place. He turned and left, feeling dozens of eyes watching as he went.

[fan-fantasies]

A Little Push

Warnings?: drug use (weed), I think that's it.

A/N: woah, I'm alive. It's crazy. It's been rough wanting to write literally anything, but here I am. Heather and I have been hyping each other up like crazy so I'm super excited. Just as a fair warning, this is not proof read, I'm super lazy and just don't want to. Regardless, I do hope you guys enjoy this, it was fun to write. -Breezy

Vermont was always lovely this time of the year, the leaves would change and the true beauty of nature would emerge for a small portion of time before winter would come along. You'd lived in Vermont for the majority of your life, having met your best friend, Heather, at a young age. She was the main reason you knew you weren't alone.

It was hard growing up being different, even if it was fairly easy to hide, but kids were ruthless and they were always willing to spill the tea to anyone who would listen. Nevermore was the one place you knew would be best for you, even after high school, a university for those who were different made you feel at ease. Though, even at a place full of outcasts, you couldn't help but feel different. As a siren, it was almost certain that you would have the confidence of God and the charm of an enchantress/enchanter, but you had found it very difficult to rise to those expectations.

Bianca was a prime example of who most people believed you should be. Everything about her is beautiful, her skin, her eyes, she just radiated beauty and honestly you envied her.. Maybe that’s why you never really spent time with the others, instead hanging out with Heather and the other gorgans. All of them were chill, never expected much, plus they were extremely funny. The notorious stoners were fun to watch as they got high, hell, it was fun to join them on occasion. They were just so excepting. Maybe that was why you and Ajax had gotten so close. To Heather it was pretty apparent you had a thing for him, you of course denied that. Even if you did, dating had never been in the cards. Being an outcast does that to you.

"Dude, come on," Heather began, "just ask him to hang out, hell, ask him if he wants to smoke a joint with you. He won't think twice about it." She rolled her eyes, "plus, he'd be hanging out with you and I know for a fact he'd never turn that down."

You sigh, putting your head down on the table you were currently sitting at. "Don't say that, you'll get my hopes up," you grunt, "no one ever wants to hang out with me, besides you." You whisper.

You hear Heather sigh in what you thought was defeat. You were wrong.

"Ajax! Come here!" She shouted causing your head to snap up, now looking in the direction of where she called. Sure enough Ajax came jogging over.

"Hey Heather, what's up?" His eyes met yours, "y/n, hey." He nervously said.

Before you could speak, Heather responded, "Y/n wants to hangout and have smoke, you in?" The way she said it was calm, forward but not in a pushy way.

You watched as a smile grew on his face, "Hell yeah, mine or yours?

You swallowed, "Y-Yours?" You stammer bewildered that he agreed.

"Great, stop by a little later." You respond with a simple nod before he walked off. You sat there stupefied, did that really just happen?

"Told you." Heather smirked, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I can't believe you."

She laughed, "I think the word you're looking for is, thank you." She teased.

Your expression must have shown your anxiety, Heather's face softened.

"Look, I know it's hard to believe someone other than me would want to hang out with you. Let's be honest, I'm not the most social butterfly either, like I legit could turn people to stone but please," she began, "give him a chance, at least be his friend." She begged. You listened to your friend, you'd been through everything together and you knew she'd never do anything to hurt you.

You nod, "okay, I will. Thank you."

She smiled, "Now, how about we go back to yours and get you ready for your date." She teased.

The hours leading up to meeting up with Ajax seemed to drag out causing anxiety to bubble up inside of you. You were finally gonna hang out with Ajax, alone. The idea of all of this made your heart flutter, it was finally happening. You'd snuck out of your dorm, down the long, and seemingly endless, corridors towards his room. When you arrived, you knocked softly hoping to not alert anyone around.

The door swung open with haste, Ajax stood there in his casual clothing with a small smile on his face.

"Hey come in," he spoke as he stepped aside letting you enter. He had some quiet music playing in the background, nothing that you recognized though.

"Did you kick Xavier out?" You joke, seeing as though it's just him.

Ajax rubbed the back or his neck, "would you believe me if I said no?"

You laugh softly, "no." You admit. He chuckled softly, not speaking again. He motioned you over to his side of the room, "make yourself at home, I'll go get a joint for us."

You hesitated before slowly walking over to his desk, taking a seat in his desk chair. You could hear him shuffling around, opening and closing drawers before coming back over. He had everything ready to go, he must have prepared ahead of time.

"What, you don't wanna sit with me?" He joked with a smirk before he flopped on his bed.

You felt your cheeks heat up but you nervously laughed, "Buy me dinner first." You threw back. A wide grin spread on his face, one that even the Cheshire cat would be proud of.

"Maybe after." He winked before motioning you over. You comply, standing from your current seat and making your way to his bed, now sitting across from him.

He took the first step, lighting the joint and taking a few shirt puffs before offering it to you. You carefully take it from him, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. The familiar burn filled your lungs as you held the smoke in for a few moments,then allowing yourself to relax before exhaling. You take another hit before handing it back to Ajax. The atmosphere was comfortably silent, the both of you just enjoying each other's presence.

"I'm really glad you wanted to hang out." He admitted before taking another puff.

You glanced over at him, "really? I know I technically didn't ask but I've wanted to hang out. We don't get to just hang out together, usually Heather or Xavier are with us." You ramble looking at your hands.

He chuckled, "you're right," he began, "which is why I'm glad." He explained.

You take another drag before responding, "I never thought you'd want to," you blurt, traces of smoke passing by your lips.

His eyebrows knit together, clearly confused, "why's that?" He questioned curiously.

You weren't sure how to respond, you sat in silence for a moment.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Just know, whatever it is, you can trust me." He mentions calmly.

Your mind began to swirl with thoughts, you weren't sure if it was the weed finally starting to take effect.

"It's just," you begin, "I've never been good around people, Heather's always been my only friend since we were kids." You explain.

"You've known Heather for that long?" He pressed.

You smile softly, "Yeah, we grew up together, lived in the same city in this wonderfully cold state." You tell him, "it's kinda crazy to think about." You giggle. "But she's been the only friend I've had, once my abilities as a siren began to show most people avoided me. As sirens, I would say we are pretty charismatic but I've never seen myself as that."

Ajax remained quiet as he listened to you.

"Hence why I don't really hang around with the other sirens. I consider myself an outcast among outcasts."

Ajax shook his head, "well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd say you're the better of them." He put the, now finished, blunt in the ashtray, "in fact, I'd say you're the most attractive of them." He admits.

You felt your heart stop, had you heard him right? "W-what?" You stammer looking at him.

He lit another joint, "Yeah, I think you're beautiful " He clarifies before putting the joint between his lips. You look at him, taking in his features, his gorgeous eyes, kissable lips and the few unmissable snakes that would peek out from his beanie. It was a few moments before he noticed you looking at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing… I just…" You stammer, "can I kiss you?" You ask, having a sudden burst in confidence. Thank you weed.

He didn't hesitate, he placed the joint in the ashtray before moving it. You scoot closer to him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You were nervous, and clearly so was he. You decided to just take the leap, closing the distance between the two of you, your lips brushing against each other. Your heart was hammering against your ribs as he pressed his lips now firmly against yours. The kiss was slow, warm, it sent electricity through your body. It was a strange feeling, but not anything you were against. It was clear Ajax was a bit hesitant, you weren't sure if it was nerves or something else, regardless you couldn't help but let out a giggle before pulling away. You could see the faint blush on his cheeks, his eyes slightly glazed over due to the effects of the weed. A dorky smile grew on his face, he didn't speak for a few moments.

"Please tell me we can do that again."

You laugh, "Yeah, I'd like that "

[southeastasianists]

On 5th July 2023, The Washington Post published ‘In Singapore, loud echoes of Beijing’s positions generate anxiety’. Written by Singaporean journalist Shibani Mahtani, it alleged that local Chinese daily Lianhe Zaobao “now routinely echoes some of Beijing’s most strident falsehoods” and “has been running regular opinion columns since 2016 from at least two [Chinese Communist Party] officials without noting their party affiliation”. 

The article argued this was a symptom of more extensive efforts by China to influence Singapore’s Chinese population. 

It sparked immediate (and anxious) reactions. Lianhe Zaobao rebutted that they take in “Chinese and Western viewpoints while preserving [their] unique stance and independence”. Lui Tuck Yew, Singapore’s Ambassador to the US, published a letter saying the article “wrongly suggests that Lianhe Zaobao […] echoes Beijing’s propaganda” and that the article was “misguided for American news outlets to expect Zaobao to resemble The Washington Post or for Singapore to follow either the US or China”. 

Prime Minister-in-waiting Lawrence Wong briefly discussed the article during his US trip, affirming that Singapore is vigilant about external influences, including “Western liberal ideals”.

“To be candid, there is no shortage of criticism about Singapore in the Western media, no shortage of commentaries and articles highlighting the shortcomings in our system and asking us to be more like Western liberal ideals,” DPM Wong clarifies.

Naturally, it was the first thing I asked her about. 

On Lianhe Zaobao

As expected of someone who interviews public figures for a living, Shibani’s relaxed manner instantly puts you at ease. Her speech—liberally peppered with “you know” and “right?”—draws you into the same wavelength. 

Learned from years of journalism, the 35-year-old balances her claims with caveats. Her neutral-sounding English is flawless, void of the full ‘R’s characterising American accents or the poshness of British accents. In her own words, she speaks like “someone very privileged to have experienced different cultures, societies, and ways of life”.

When I bring up the Lianhe Zaobao kerfuffle, her demeanour turns serious. 

“Nowhere did I advocate for Singaporean media to be like Western media,” she begins. 

“The story didn’t argue from a US-China perspective at all, honestly. It was an investigation into the discourses and the narratives around Chinese-ness.”

While acknowledging Western ideas and narratives have long been embedded in Singapore, she argues China’s resurgence makes examining Chinese influence more urgent. 

“Ethnicity has historically been very fragile in this part of the world. Most of Singapore’s population is ethnic Chinese. As [Ambassador-at-Large] Bilahari said, there’s something very different about the CCP propagating the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, which involves ethnic Chinese from all over the world,” she notes. “The US cannot have that same claim here.”

Probing Shibani is an exercise in probing the Singaporean identity. Born and bred in Singapore, she’s highly invested in the way things operate here.

However, the values she developed from Singapore’s environment differed from most. Where political apathy (even cynicism) prevails, Shibani champions ‘flowery’ values like free speech and transparency. Such values inform her work, birthing social media comments accusing her and her work—like her Lianhe Zaobao article—of being “Western” and a “foreign influence”.

Shibani’s interest in examining China’s influence on Singapore began upon returning home while covering the 2019 Hong Kong protests.

“People around us would be like, ‘Oh, these people are unhinged’.” She suspected these narratives parroted CCP talking points.

After asking friends and consulting academics, she learned how Chinese state narratives can be spread through various channels in Singapore: WeChat, WhatsApp, forum posts, cable TV and print media. 

Shibani focused on Lianhe Zaobao because it was quantifiable. 

Working with the Australian Strategic Policy Institute, an Australian government-linked think tank that declared receiving $1.48 million from the US State Department in 2021-22, The Washington Post could “run a scraper through” Zaobao’s articles for references to pro-China sources.

She notes another reason. 

“The way Singapore views the media is not as a check and balance but to positively aid national development and discourse. I felt that if it were true that Chinese narratives were seeping in, that would run counter to the Singapore government’s efforts to ensure that our narratives are self-defined and driven by Singapore’s interests.”

A proponent of free speech, she claims pro-China views have a place in Singapore’s media landscape. Her gripe, however, is transparency—publications need to clarify the writer’s affiliations to readers.

“You could not get away with having a US State Department official write for The Straits Times as a neutral analyst.”

A Singaporean, Born and Bred

Her conversations with fellow Singaporeans informed Shibani’s story of Chinese influence in Singapore. It’s far from the first story birthed from her connections here.

“One of the first stories I did—and it remains a story I’m very, very proud of—was writing in the Wall Street Journal about racial discrimination within Singapore’s housing ads. People can—even today—advertise ‘no Indians’ or ‘Chinese preferred’ or ‘light-skin only.'” 

It presented a disconnect from narratives she grew up hearing about Singapore’s racial harmony and the Housing Development Board’s Ethnic Integration Policy preventing ethnic enclaves. 

“I don’t know if I would have caught on to that issue if I had not been born and raised here,” she affirms.

Growing up an ethnic minority, she didn’t see her experiences and views validated. 

Without social media or alternative media back then, she could only read from The Straits Times or Business Times and what foreigners wrote about Singapore in overseas publications. There was little available discourse divorced from those lenses. Her current endeavours in journalism aim to fill that gap: To present perspectives on Singapore she wasn’t able to read growing up.

Her childhood fascination with travel and language evolved into a fixation on journalism as her political awareness developed. 

“I remember the WIRED piece that called Singapore a ‘Disneyland with the death penalty‘”, she says. Reading international coverage of Singapore spurred her to interrogate the place she calls home.

She focused on writing. She contributed to the school paper at Raffles Junior College and became Executive Editor of the student newspaper at the London School of Economics. 

“When I went to grad school [at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism in 2010], I wanted to learn how big global news organisations operate. They are much better resourced and offered a more international career, which can be hard to carve out at somewhere like The Straits Times.” 

Yet, it felt far-fetched. 

“When I started writing for The Wall Street Journal [in 2011], it was rare for them to have non-white, non-Western journalists,” she recalls. 

Her opportunity was borne from need: WSJ’s foreign journalists on employment passes got their passes cut.

“So they said okay, instead of hiring foreigners, we should hire Singaporeans.”

Beyond the Bubble

Working in global news organisations meant Shibani was often overseas, starting with Myanmar in 2013. She volunteered for the job—a leap of faith stemming from her interest in Southeast Asia.

Adapting to Yangon, the largest city in Myanmar, was a “crazy experience”. Internet was virtually nonexistent and absurdly priced.

“SIM cards still cost US$150 before the liberalisation of the telecom sector.” She often loitered in the Traders Hotel (now Shangri-La) lobby, trying to connect to decent internet.

For correspondents, living in the country they’re covering gives a valuable taste of life there to inform their perspectives.

Contrary to places like Hong Kong or Singapore, where expatriates have the ability to somewhat detach from local life, Shibani notes that it was much harder in Yangon circa 2013.

“Living in Yangon is a bit of a bubble [for expatriates], but our issues with the internet were shared [with locals]. If it flooded, everything flooded. If the power cuts, the power cuts for everybody—not to equate; I was a privileged expat, but we lived in a pretty local neighbourhood.”

She regales tales from her travels, recalling the poppy-infested Northern areas of Myanmar, where opium is produced.  

“I remember feeling very shaken visiting these shacks, which were treatment centres for recovering addicts. Their eyes were just so hollow and their expressions so blank.”

She remembers interviewing Khin Nyunt, Myanmar’s former Chief of Intelligence—infamous for ruthlessly running the pervasive state security apparatus and cracking down on anyone opposing the regime. 

“What a difficult interview, man. Imagine you’re sitting across from someone who you essentially know is a really bad person, for lack of a better word,” she grimaces.

“And you have to smile at them and go: ‘So. About torturing and disappearing people.'”

She shudders as she recalls speaking to Aung San Suu Kyi—her toughest interviewee yet. When she tried to press Aung San Suu Kyi on the national economy and internal political party dynamics, Aung San Suu Kyi got angry and refused to talk. Shibani crumpled up internally.

Fighting for Something

Then, there was the time when she covered the Hong Kong protests in 2019.

“It was incredibly fast-moving every weekend. […] Protests were so dispersed. Journalists were in WhatsApp groups together so we could crowdsource or trade info.”

It fell into a routine. Mornings and afternoons were peaceful, while at night, there’d be pockets of radical action like vandalism or police chases. 

That soon devolved into chaos. “You didn’t know whether to expect Molotov cocktails being thrown or crackdowns from the police.” That escalation only waned after local elections in November 2019 and the advent of COVID-19.

Despite the violence, it was the tender moments that stuck with her. “We would see people helping each other and giving out food and drinks, young couples holding hands and walking through the streets. It was surreal to see those spaces you’d drive down occupied by people sitting and holding hands.”

“You see what it meant to people to be part of a collective and a community fighting for something,” she reminisces. “That stayed with me.”

Journalists aren’t immune to the heightened emotions: “It’s very hard not to be affected by seeing kids beaten up on the street or seeing your friends flee home.” 

She tries to channel these emotions into her writing, as with her recently published book, Among The Braves. Co-written with her husband, Timothy McLaughlin, the book explores the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement through the eyes of people on the ground. 

“In 2021, when they started mass arresting groups of people, our whole contact list disappeared. We identified a few people [to profile in the book], and they started going to jail, one by one. Local Hong Kong outlets we referenced, like Apple Daily or Stand News, began shutting down.” 

She stressed the urgency. “I think the power of the Chinese Communist Party to do this forced mass amnesia has been well-documented post-Tiananmen. If we didn’t do it now, we’d lose the opportunity to put down what we saw in these people’s life experiences.”

‘A Different Approach’

Today, Shibani is back in Singapore after returning home with her husband and Bean, her dog.

“It’s pretty surreal,” Shibani reflects, sipping coffee as her eyes linger on the Singapore skyline. “It feels like we’re in a corner of the world untouched by the insanity everywhere.”

“For all of Singapore’s flaws, we should feel fortunate to have a good, stable and functional government,” Shibani notes.

“In Hong Kong, all people wanted is to vote for their government,” she says. “I’m not saying that stuff like gerrymandering doesn’t exist. Singapore’s not a perfect system, but we still have that right [to vote] many people are fighting for.” 

Shibani pauses. “I sometimes wonder if it is valued as much as it should be.”

Despite being well-travelled, she doesn’t consider herself an international citizen.

“Being Singaporean is at the heart of everything I do, everything I believe in, and everything I am.”

From Shibani’s perspective, many of her contrasting beliefs are because of her Singaporean experiences “formed in opposition to narratives [she] heard since young”.

Not all her beliefs are oppositional. She attributes positive experiences in Singapore to her strong belief in multiculturalism, the virtues of an open immigration system (relative to other countries), and diversity within our neighbourhoods.

Shibani reflects Singapore’s difficulties balancing a desire to be an open, cosmopolitan city while nurturing a nationalism that, in its quest to unite, may exclude Singaporeans who stray from conventions of how a Singaporean should think or act.

Being critical of these perspectives is one thing. Shunning these viewpoints altogether strangles Singapore’s social diversity and vibrancy of thought. 

Those differences in values influence her views on Singaporean journalism. “I don’t want to criticise traditional SPH media, honestly. They inform society on things only they will cover right, like day-to-day concerns of Singaporeans.”

“Perhaps the only point I would make is, generally, I believe journalism should be free of government interference, red lines, and tacit control, but that’s not the way Singapore’s government sees its media; they see it as having a civic role. And that’s just a different approach.”

A Journalist’s Role

In comparison, she recalls, “When I was in the US [between 2016 and 2019], I was highly critical of the Chicago local government, the Chicago Mayor, and the Illinois state government. That’s our role as journalists: To be a check on government.”

This principle also holds in Hong Kong. She rejects claims that her writing, often critical of the Hong Kong government, represents Western influence in a larger East vs West ideological conflict. After all, she scrutinises Western governments using similar criteria, too.

“[Journalists] mean it when we say we want all perspectives,” she says, citing her own extensive interviews with people within the Hong Kong government.

That includes police officers on the ground. “We worked with a local journalist who—this is a true story, and RICE Media fodder—Tinder matched with two cops. When the movement started, she was like, ‘Oh my god. Let me reach out to my Tinder contacts.'”

However, those core disagreements with journalism’s role in Singapore are also why she’s so excited about the burgeoning independent media scene. “I feel like this landscape now is so much more diverse and interesting than I could have imagined in its history.”

After her book tour, she intends to add to that diversity by writing for The Washington Post on topics like trafficking or refugees in Southeast Asia. I ask what sustains her dedication to pure journalism. 

“So cheesy, but I’m just interested in hearing people’s stories,” she laughs.

“We can’t escape the confines in which we grew up—the schools we go to, the countries we live in. All that means we interact with only specific subsets or groups of people. The amazing thing about journalism is that all those boundaries don’t exist.”

She’s talked with so many people: Hardcore gun-toting Republicans in Southern Illinois, Rohingya refugees on the Thai border, and millionaires relinquishing everything to support the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement.

“It’s like therapy, I think, for them,” she ponders.

“It’s a testament to how so many people have stories to tell—it’s just about drawing it out.”

[judgeanon]

Plastic Skies of Betrayal - Model 12: F-5E Tiger II “Area 88″

So this model is a little special. I know I said the same thing about the last one, but while the Raptor build came with a heavy dose of anxiety and frustrations, the next build turned out to be a nice planetary alignment of materials and people all coming together in an incredibly rewarding project. Just like the Raptor, however, talking about it involves talking about other things first. In this case, a late 70s manga that set up camp in my brain months ago and refuses to leave. 

Have you ever heard of AREA 88? If not, you’re about to.

So there’s this plane called the Northrop F-5 Tiger II, which I’d actually never heard about until I played Ace Combat 5: The Unsung War. That game famously starts you off in an F-5 and locks you there for the first four or five missions, so I became pretty well-acquainted with this tiny little fighter. Some people might recognize its shape from the original TOP GUN, where it was painted black and used as a stand-in for Russian MiG planes, but on the other side of the Pacific, a lot of people know it best as one of the signature planes of one Shin Kazama.

Shin is the protagonist of AREA 88, a manga by Kaoru Shintani that started all the way in 1979 and ended in 1986, the same year TOP GUN came out. I first heard about it while looking at some model kits, and since I was (and in a lot of ways still am) elbows deep in fighter jets at that time, I started to dig a bit deeper. Three OVAs and half a manga series later, I was absolutely hooked. The air combat is fantastic and the manga pulls a bunch of incredible visual tricks to render it, but it’s the intense melodrama of the characters that really kept me in. It’s a tremendously engaging, compelling and interesting series from every angle. And funny enough, I’d actually seen it once, over a decade ago. Just not as a manga or as an anime.

As it turns out, AREA 88 had a videogame for the SNES that had been brought to the West as “UN SQUADRON”, and I had actually played it back when my computer was so underpowered that all I could play were emulated retro games. Running into the game’s source material again in the midst of a wild craze triggered by another videogame was a strange but fun little return, and along with my growing obsession with said source material, cemented my decision to make my next model AREA 88-themed. And the universe seemed more than happy to provide.

My current favorite hobby shop turned out to have a 1/72 Tiger II model for a very nice price, made by the same company that made the F-16 model I’d built some months ago. To make things even better, it was also the exact same kit I’d already seen a much better hobbyist than me turn into Shin’s plane and upload tons of great reference pics online. All I really needed would be the decals, so I asked the shop’s owner if he could get me in touch with someone who prints customs decals. He obliged, although in the end that wouldn’t be necessary.

The build itself was pretty sweet, although not without its hiccups. There was no family drama to distract me this time nor lingering feelings of guilt. Even money was no longer an object. Feeling more relaxed than usual, I took my time with it, and challenged myself to add a few extra touches. For example, taking the thinnest brush I have, dipping it in red paint and giving the stick a little button,

The other thing I also tried out was, for the first time, primer. Yes, I’m a dummy. Yes, I’m not sure how I got this far without it. But I’d never actually needed primer before until disaster struck and some patches of paint began to fall out of my Raptor model kit. I’m still not sure what caused it exactly, but priming models from now on seemed like the smartest solution. As we say down here, better to prevent than mend.

That said, I don’t think I fully understand this whole priming thing yet. Without an airbrush or a spray can, I just used a brush to coat the kit with it, right off the bottle. I’m not sure if this is a good way to use it but at least it smelled really good. And not in a thick chemical kind of way, just genuinely sweet smell. But anyway...

Painting had to be paused for a moment after I let a friend borrow my white paint, so for a week or so only the Tiger’s tail saw any paint, but once I had everything back things moved pretty quickly. I was a bit worried about the blue part since masking tape and me don’t see eye to eye. Still, it worked out alright, and any imperfections were quickly corrected with a bit more paint. Which is something I really appreciate in model-making: if you mess up, you can usually paint over it. Usually.

Like with the stick, I took the time to paint a few other little details like the position lights. Decals and weathering also worked out pretty well, thanks to HobbyBoss’ decals being really good and the plane itself being really small compared to the last couple ones I’d made.

The other thing I felt quite proud of was my paintjob on the transparent parts. I’d been scared of canopies for so long that a bunch of my first models are still purely transparent there, but thanks to a couple of really comfortable brushes and some experience, I’m feeling far more confident about it nowadays. Plus, I’d fallen in love with this shade of blue, so adding more to the plane was its own reward. And speaking of canopies, another little touch I’ve been adding to the planes since the Raptor is to give the whole thing a coat of matte varnish, but then use gloss for the canopy, giving it a nice shiny finish. Although that led to a moment of anxiety when a drop of varnish went inside the canopy and stayed there, giving it a very ugly thick white curve that I feared was permanent. In the end I went to sleep and woke up to the varnish having completely dried out and disappeared, so that’s a good life lesson: sometimes you just need to sleep things off.

So with that and a combination of black and gray panel liner, the Tiger was done! ... or was it? After all, this wasn’t just any Tiger, this is supposed to be Shin Kazama’s Tiger. It was still missing a couple of very important touches. But for the time being I was pretty damn satisfied with the model, top to bottom.

A couple of weeks passed and I never really got around to contacting the guy I’d been recommended, but then I ran into something interesting: a local hobbyist in our local version of eBay was offering custom display bases for model kits at a pretty affordable price. I’d been thinking about getting or even making a humble display base for pictures and stuff, but when I noticed that he was offering custom touches, an idea came to my mind. And that idea lead to a frankly pretty amazing moment of pure human connection.

So after I got paid, I reached out to the guy and asked about getting a 1/72 base made with some extra touches. First, he asked for a picture of the model I wanted to go on the base, so he could take some measurements. Feeling pretty proud of my work so far, I sent him a picture...

... and I swear, the very first thing he said was, and I quote:

“Oh, is that Shin Kazama’s F-5 from Area 88?”

To which my answer was “Ok, that simplifies matters.”

On top of immediately understanding the assignment, new friend even offered to throw in a little extra: a Shin Kazama scale figurine, free of charge. I said yes, of course, ‘cause momma didn’t raise the kind of fool that says no to free stuff, and also asked if he knew anyone who could help me with the decals. As it turned out, he did know a guy. And the combined efforts of three different people living nearly 400 miles away from each other all came together to make something that makes me incredibly happy.

Like everything else I’ve made so far, it’s not perfect. The tail decal couldn’t be easily printed in transparent paper, so it was printed on blue paper that’s ever so slightly a different shade than the one on the plane. But the results are still more than good enough for me.

In the end, this kit turned out to be a very welcome de-stresser. The difficult parts turned out to be a lot less difficult than it seemed, and the base and decals story is something I know I’ll always talk about with a smile on my face. In a hobby that’s usually pretty solitary, that little bit of long-distance camaraderie went a long way. And left me a very nice base for all future projects.

[doa-rose]

Old ass shinsai fanfic because i am a deprived little freak

Maybe it was the stress from work, maybe it was because she had heard walking helped with anxiety, maybe it was the sudden lack of Kaito’s nightly workout regimen. Whatever the case, she was restless, and she was walking.

She had never realized how gorgeous the neighborhood was. She had only moved in a week ago, and had been swamped with her newest case, but everywhere she turned stood perfectly primed gardens, wonderfully painted homes, and gorgeous walkways of flawless cement. Everything around her felt carefully placed just for her, a calming, pretty little town to stay in. Maybe that was why Shuichi felt that her being assigned here for such gruesome murders felt so odd.

Her memory of “Oh right! The murders!” suddenly jolted her awake. It finally caught up to her that she was walking alone, at 11:21 P.M., with no knowledge of the area around her, in a serial killers territory. She had basically shoved herself into a lions den. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but this didn’t cause great urgency in her. More than anything, she was embarrassed of herself for this clear and obvious oversight. And so, with that, she decided to go home.

Until she realized she was lost.

You see, the flaw about neighborhoods with perfect everything was that, at some point, all of the houses begin to blend together. She reached for her phone in her pocket, hoping to open the map on it to get back, only to discover that she had, in her delirium, picked up her wallet instead. Normally, when she moved to a new town, she would buy a map for said wallet at some point incase of situations like this, where her phone was either missing or dead, but she had been so busy that she had yet to visit a gas station to buy one. Shit. Not only was she in the lions den, but she couldn’t find the exit.

The next best solutions Shuichi had were to visit a friend nearby, *new town, nobody she knew*, to ask a passerby for directions, *too late for someone to be out, too stupid to go out when theres a murderer*, or to slowly explore until she found her home, something familiar, or a gas station to buy a map *too urgent to be slow, couldn’t recognize anything yet, no gas stations nearby*

Even though the murders were much more threatening, being so lost had triggered more worry than the more obvious danger. In her panicked haste, she decided to simply look for the next building that was open or had lights on, in the hopes that whomever was in it would both have a map, a phone, or directions and, hopefully, not be a serial killer. If they even let her in. She wouldn’t want to bother her new neighbors so late, but this was urgent.

She had began to jog, hoping to get home quicker, but as she passed almost all she could see were lights off. Unfortunately, the very few, two, houses that did have their lights on didn’t open the door. Her jog quickly turned to a run as she searched the streets for help. Lights off, lights off, lights off, off, off, off, off, off, off, off, on.

The building she had stopped at felt oddly out of place. She hadn’t noticed it before, maybe it was because she wasn’t specifically focusing on the buildings until now, but it did not seem to match with the rest of the town. It was a bookstore, that seemed to fit the town just fine, but the architecture and colour just seemed… wrong. Most of the houses and bookstores and shops and restaurants and what have you were light blue and white, a few pale greens, a few soft oaks, yes, but mostly white and blue. Friendly, clean, welcoming colours. This bookstore, however, was built of dark wood and deep red velvet.

Dark wood and deep red were not friendly, clean, or welcoming, and the stark difference between it and the buildings surrounding it was uncomfortable and confusing. The contrast only added to the already suspicious aura to the two story shop.

And yet, it was Shuichi’s only option. And so she approached.

She was surprised to see it was still open at what she had confirmed, after looking at her watch, was now 11:36, but she was lucky it was. She slowly opened the creaky door, the bell on it sending a jolt through her tense body, and stepped into the shop.

It was just as dark on the inside, the soft yellow lights doing nothing to help Shuichis anxiety, and it was crowded and uncomfortably warm. In almost any other situation, she would find it cozy. Warm and close, with dim lighting and a dusty smell, it almost calmed the detectives nerves. Almost, before the claustrophobia kicked in and doubled her panic. It wasn’t intense claustrophobia, but the tight space made her feel chocked and smothered. The bookstore wasn’t huge, but the way the bookshelves twisted and turned felt like a maze. To make it all worse, she couldn’t find anyone. Not a single soul trapped in this maze of a shop like she was. She was lost, and trapped, and completely alone. Not only that, but the feeling of being watched shook her to her very soul.

Finally, after what felt like hours being trapped between books, she found a desk. A desk with a clerk. She had never felt more reassured. The clerk was a young man, maybe about her age, with green hair in an apron with his round glasses set off to the side. He was sitting upright, his soft features illuminated by the lightly flickering lamp beside him, with his eyes closed, his head leaning on his hand, and his mouth open. Seeing a person, especially someone who looked so peaceful, calmed Shuichi.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The clerk didn’t open his eyes, his soft breathing getting deeper and deeper by the second. Was he asleep?

“Sir?”

Shuichi tapped him as she said this, and jerked her hand back when she watched the clerk immediately wake up. His eyes flew open and his posture completely straightened, almost robotically. They stood there, both tense, for a good second before the man relaxed and spoke.

“My apologies, welcome to our bookstore. How may I help you?”

His soft eyes met hers, and she tried to fold up all of her anxiety into a sigh.

“Hi, sorry, I’m Saihara I just moved in nearby and decided to walk around but I think I might be lost? I don’t have my phone on me and I’ve been walking around for maybe 20 minutes now and I don’t know where I am like at all and I don’t know anyone around here and I don’t have a map and I don’t know where to go and I was wondering if you had one, a map I mean, or like directions or something or where I can find some maybe please? Sorry.”

Shuichi tried to put on her brightest smile, which definitely looked much more nervous than bright, and stared at the startled clerk in front of her

“Thats very urgent, Saihara. But Im afraid I don’t have a map, and I don’t know this town very well yet either. I could check my phone for one, though.”

“That would be great oh my god thank you.”

Slowly, the man opened a drawer and pulled out his phone, rummaging through another drawer as he held down the power button. He placed a packet of post-its on the table and opened his pen to begin writing, presumably directions, before looking at his phone and freezing.

“Ah… yes, well, it seems my phone has died.”

Shuichi bit her lip and slumped. She just wanted to go back to bed and rest. The stranger looked up at her disappointed face and began to stutter out a solution.

“I… well, I have… well possibly have, Ill see, a charger? I could charge my phone and we can see in a bit.”

She smiled and the clerk lit up, seemingly remembering something, and began to click his pen as he rattled on.

“Or, you know what, Kiyo likely has a map. She has a map for everything, comes with being well traveled I suppose, Im really quite envious. Shes very cultured as well, sometimes makes me wish I chose a different path. Her life seems so exiting…”

Shuichi stood, slowly nodding along to his monologue, wondering if everyone that passed by this shop also learned of the mysterious Kiyo and her lively adventures. The clerk quickly summed up her rant

“Right, maps, Kiyo should be upstairs by the balcony. I don’t believe shes left yet today. Ill plug in my phone just incase. The stairs are right over there. Oh, yes, and do feel free to look at the books.”

With a calming smile, the clerk pointed to a staircase not too far away from them, and began rustling through his desk again. She quickly thanked him and jogged to the stairs.

They were creaky, and stuck between two bookshelves, making them seem just as claustrophobic as the room below. Shuichi was nervous, she felt like she could fall at any second, like the stairs would collapse and that would be her end, but they didnt. And it wasn’t. And she was fine.

She practically jumped out of the stairs when she got to the top, eager to get back home and rest. To leave this creaky maze of a shop and get rid of the uncomfortable watching feeling following her. To lay on her bed and finally sleep. She was so tired after her walk and all of the stress. Unfortunately, she didn’t see Kiyo. She didn’t see anyone. She tried to walk towards the center to see if she could find anyone, before she nocked into the railing and nearly fell over.

She hadn’t fully understood why the man at the desk had said “by the balcony” at first, she thought it was just a second floor, but she understood now. The center of the second “floor” was completely gone. A perfect square surrounded by railing overlooking the other room. The other room that she now realized, given her birds eye view, was far from a maze at all. it was a simple, neat path from the front of the shop to the desk— there was even an empty space right by the door that curled around and met the desk right away. She felt stupid for getting lost in such a simple path. Eventually, Shuichi decided to return to the edge of the shop to search again. As she backed up, though, she knocked into something. That something startled her so, and the sudden panic forced her to turn around and jump back without thinking.

It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t without thinking. Normally, you see, Shuichi would have the sense not to jump back when she was in front of a balcony. Normally Shuichi would have the sense to stay put, or to grab the railing so she wouldn’t fall back. But this situation wasn’t normal for Shuichi, and the jump made her knock into the railing and fall back. Shuichi was going to fall off. The building was small, but it was tall. and Shuichi was on the top floor. And she was going to fall off.

Course, she *was*, going to, but she didn’t. She had knocked into it, yes, and her legs had left the floor for a moment, and her shoulders and head dangled dangerously off of the railing, but she didn’t fall. Hands had grabbed her biceps and pulled, just barely stopping her from falling. She tumbled to the floor in front of her and gasped for breath, the near fall having knocked all the air out of her. She heard other loud breathing in front of her too, which confused her. And so she looked up and met the eyes of the “something” that she had knocked into. A woman with long, black hair and a hand over her mouth sat before her, presumably having fallen back after grabbing Shuichis arms, and stared. They both looked at each other for a long minute, before the detective fully caught her breath and spoke up.

“Thank you. Oh my god thank you.”

She felt like curling up into a ball and crying. That was was so frightening. Shuichi could hardly hold herself together. She looked up at her elegant savior and watched as the other placed a hand over her heart and slowly caught her breath, still not uncovering her face. Through a muffled voice, the other mumbled.

“Yes, of course”

They stood there for another awkward moment. Staring at each other. Shuichi felt… uncomfortable. The woman in front of her was staring purposefully, and she felt as though she were being analyzed. She decided to go for the lesser of the two evils— awkward conversation or awkward staring— and started to talk.

“Hi, sorry, hi. I’m Shuichi Saihara. The man at the desk—”

“Kirumi?”

“Yes, I think, yes. Kirumi said to look for a Kiyo with maps? Is that you?”

The woman— who Shuichi was now very sure was the illusive Kiyo— slowly chuckled and stood up, offering one of her her hands, the one not over her mouth, to the other. The detective accepted, and as she stood up realized just how tall the other was, frighteningly so. It sent a shiver up her spine and left heat rushing in her face. She was so distracted with the others height that she hardly realized her hand being drawn to the woman’s face. She then, rather quickly, removed the hand from her mouth to gently kiss Shuichi’s —that sent even *more* warmth to the detectives face— and swapped them once again.

“I am, in fact, Kiyo, Korekiyo Shinguji, and I do, in fact, have maps. Do you need one?”

Shuichi felt her hand drop from Kiyo’s and, rather than a sense of relief from essentially finding her ride home, she almost felt sad that she had lost her excuse to stay. The coziness she felt whilst first entering was back in full force, and she felt warm and soft all over. She didn’t want to go back to the outside cold.

“Yes, I do. I’m lost. I think I live nearby, but I don’t know and I need help getting back.”

Her mouth twitched and her awkward attempt at a positive smile came back. Kiyo’s eyes crinkled and she could swear she heard a muffled laugh from under the others covered face. It made her feel ridiculous.

“Ill be back in just a moment. Please wait here, Saihara.”

Shuichi nodded, moving her hand to grab the railing so she wouldn’t fall. She missed the first time and slipped a little, but she grabbed it and leaned back comfortably soon enough. Korekiyo stared for a moment, seemingly waiting for her to be stable, and then twirled around and disappeared back among the shelves again. And so Shuichi was once more alone with her thoughts for the first time in a while.

She couldn’t help but stare and ponder. Kiyo moved so elegantly, so *carefully*, it was almost entrancing to watch. The gentle swing of her hair and the bend of her long body as she walked. And she was so sure about where she went. Was she here often? But the clerk— Kirumi, she now knew— said she left every day. Course, that means she was there every day. But he also said she traveled often, didn’t he? And who exactly owned this bookstore? Kirumi said “Welcome to *our* bookstore”, but did he mean his and Korekiyo’s, or his and someone else’s? Or was he maybe simply saying “our” as an employee working with the owners? Or maybe as an owner referring to the employees? But there didn’t seem to be anyone else working here. And why did she still feel she was being watched? Why did this place stick out so much? Was it maybe a marketing tactic, to stick out to attract more customers? But the shop was completely barren, and books were practically falling off the shelves, so did they not have many customers or did they just keep good stock? And if they didn’t have many customers, how come? Everyone working here, from what she had seen, was so charming and charismatic, so why—

Shuichi was suddenly—and quite literally— snapped out of her thoughts by Kiyo, who was now leaning towards her. The woman’s hand was now removed from her mouth, but it was replaced by a skintight mask. She felt a little disappointed, longing to see the others face, but settled for staring at the vague outline instead.

“Saihara, I’ve brought you a map. I had very limited ones for this town specifically, though, and this one is only in Spanish.”

She slowly lifted the map to Shuichis face, and waved it in front of her. She watched the map swish side to side as the other moved it, until she was able to concentrate again.

“Oh, right yes, right. Thank you.”

She took the map and opened it, deciding it would be best to maybe *not* tell Korekiyo the small, tiny insignificant detail that she maybe didn’t completely speak Spanish at all. She traced over the letters in the map and nodded slowly. She didn’t want to tell Kiyo she didn’t speak the language, that would cause so much more work for her and Kirumi, so she simply pretended she did. She looked up from the map at her, and then back to the map, and then up at her again, smiling. She couldn’t know for sure, but she could swear from the sharpness of her gaze and the hand on her cheek that she was being analyzed by Kiyo once more. She tried to give a more confident smile, but it still turned out wobbly. She watched as the others shoulders shook, and heard a slight chuckle in her voice as she spoke

“You don’t speak Spanish, do you?”

Her smile fell and she shook her head. Kiyo audibly laughed this time. She turned bright red from embarrassment. Kiyo held the top of the map for Shuichi and made direct eye contact with her.

“You’re purely adorable. I can guide you if you’d like.”

She, somehow, turned even more red, and slowly nodded. She wasn’t sure exactly what embarrassed her so much, whether is was the shame of needing extra help from Kiyo or being called adorable by a pretty, mysterious stranger she met not even 10 minutes ago. Kiyo had lured her in with her elegance and grace, and now Shuichi was completely willing and at ease. Was it concerning that she trusted her so fast? Maybe, but it wasn’t like she was befriending a serial killer or anything. Shuichi forced herself to nod more obviously.

“Yes. Yeah, yes. I’d like that. A lot.”

“Very well, I am ready whenever you would like to leave.”

Korekiyo let go of the paper and drew back. She was very confused at her response. Couldn’t she just write down the directions now? Whatever the case, she was exhausted and, as much as she liked being around Kiyo, she needed to rest. But she didn’t want to loose this place. She didn’t know the way, and she doubted she would remember it on her walk back home.

“Hey, Korekiyo?”

“You may call me Kiyo.”

“Right, Kiyo,Could you mark this place on the map for me?”

she focused on Kiyos eyes once more, noticing just how much gentler they were now, noting the soft flow of her fluttering eyelashes as she bore into Shuichi. She felt herself getting warm again.

“Ah, so content with this place you wish to visit again. How wonderful. I’d be more than happy to mark it for you, dear. Though I should probably mark down where you live, too.”

Korekiyo pulled down the top of the map again

“Now, where would that be?”

Shuichi unconsciously rattled off her new address, too distracted by the pretty eyes staring at her, and the fact those eyes had called her *dear*, to even pay attention to what she was saying. And then, Kiyos hand brushed her arm, which completely stopped her ability to concentrate on whatever she was saying, thinking or doing. She was much too flustered.

By the time she could focus again, she was walking down the sidewalk with the marked map in front of her, gloved hands tracing the directions and a humming voice in her ears. She shivered. It was cold. Luckily, though, she recognized the area. Barely recognized, but she *had* noticed specific houses that she had passed between her new house and her new office. Which meant she was nearly home. She felt a hand trace her bicep and pull her tight, pressing against someone. The voice mumbled in her ear once again

“Do not drift too close to the street, Saihara, stay near me.”

The moment she recognized the voice she turned straight red again. Not only was Kiyo walking her home, but she was holding her close, too. Extremely close. Pressed against her skin close. She nearly felt suspicious of Kiyo’s charm, her soft voice, charisma, and pretty face seemed too good to be true— let alone the fact she seemed to be *flirting* with Shuichi, especially so intensely and so soon after their first meeting—, but that suspicion disappeared instantly when she felt Kiyos hand drift from her arm to across her back, to her other arm, and down to her palm, gently lacing their fingers together. She bit her lip and blushed, looking up to watch Kiyo, who was staring from the side of her eye and fluttering her eyelashes once again. Her heart practically melted as she felt the woman squeeze her hand, suddenly thrusting it behind her, pulling Shuichi flush against her body once more.

She was practically skipping at this point, excitedly walking back home with their fingers tied up together, until Kiyo suddenly slowed and came to a halt.

“Is this your home, Saihara?”

She paused before answering. It was her home, yeah, but she had been enjoying their walk. She felt remorseful. She sadly muttered yes, and then decided to speak up.

“Hey, Kiyo, you wanna come in?”

“Desperately.”

Kiyo sighed

“Unfortunately, I must get back to the bookstore. I feel I should close up tonight, Kirumi’s restful nights are far and few in between, and I wish not to wake him for something so trivial as closing up shop.”

Shuichi was still partially out of it and, forgetting that they had no actual form of contact, responded with the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, yeah, no, I get that. I get that completely just… tell me if you ever wanna visit or anything. Just let me know, I’ll set something up.”

Shuichi looked back at the others eyes and batted her eyelashes, hoping it had at least *partially* the same effect on Kiyo as it did on her. It seemingly worked, as she felt a squeeze on her hand and watched as Korekiyo softened her eyes and placed a hand over her chest. She could even swear she heard a little groan. Slowly, Kiyo lifted her head and looked over her shoulders. Shuichi was about to ask her what was wrong, but she was very suddenly caught off guard by a hand grabbing her chin. She felt as the other allowed their fingers to un-intertwine, and before she knew it there was warm breath on her skin and a slight damp spot on her cheek. She was, in all honesty, a little startled by the kiss. Not that she exactly disliked the idea of a pretty, mysterious woman fawning over her. It was simply a little surprising.

The moment Kiyo’s lips were off her she immediately felt remorseful. She almost felt the urge to pull her back in, but the pace they were at was already much *much* too fast, and she sure as hell wouldn’t squander actually getting to know Kiyo over an *urge* of all things. She was brought back out of her thoughts by a vibration against her neck, and thats when she realized Kiyo had moved just a *little* lower than her jaw.

“You’ll visit me at the bookstore, won’t you, my darling Shuichi?”

She fully flamed up again. She hadn’t realized how nice Korekiyo’s voice was without her mouth covered. It sent a shiver down her spine.

She sounded practically musical, rough and high with a low hum. Her voice was absolutely gorgeous.

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah, of course! I’ll go the next moment I have available. I swear that to you. It’s a beautiful store, you know. Absolutely beautiful.”

Her yammering was muffled by Kiyo’s shoulder. She’d been so distracted by the kiss and her voice that she had hardly noticed just how close they were. She tensed, very suddenly unsure about this. A complete stranger, one practically climbing on her, now had a map to her house, and she clearly had an easy way to melt her heart and get inside.

“Yes…wonderful.”

Slowly, she felt fingers prying open her hands. Soft paper slipped past her palm, and her fingers were gently closed around it once more. There was a slight shift by her and, in a few moments, Korekiyo was off of her completely with her mask back on and empty hands. She waved goodbye and twirled back around to, presumably, walk back to the store. Shuichi was left alone, right by her house, holding a map with two marks, a few translations, and a series of numbers left along the margin.

A series of numbers she was sure she would be calling.

[jasperkdavis]

— BASICS

Name: Jasper Kingston Rovigatti Davis Age / D.O.B.: 35 / March 6th, 1989 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis man, he/him, & bisexual Hometown: West Bronx, New York Affiliation: Civilian Job position: Writer for the City of Auris Podcast Education: High School Diploma Relationship status: Single Children: None Positive traits: Imaginative, Compassionate, Hardworking, Modest, Sensitive Negative traits: Timid, Naive, Melancholic, Insecure, Fearful

— BIOGRAPHY

TWs: bullying

Like most stories, Jasper’s life began with normalcy. Or that’s what he would like to believe of himself. Born to prominent one-percenters, Jasper never understood what love would look like in a home. His parent’s marriage was one of convenience, a melding of two families for political and monetary gain. He was born simply to be an heir, not to be a son. They were distant, his mother paying more attention to her collection of wine glasses and his father rarely home. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cared for, the money afforded his father to hire numerous nannies to make sure he was tended to. It was the life he knew, but it wasn’t satisfying.

Jasper had always been a meek person, never crying as a child and simply accepting what he was handed. Schooling as a young child was focused on getting the best of the best, primarily private schooling from age five to age thirteen. Eventually he knew he would be primed to take over the family business - managing the renowned high-end leather working business.

He made the switch from private to public school in high school, one of the only choices he fought for - simply to know other people. It was his first taste of the real world. It was also his first taste of what bullying could really be. He’d always been teased for his quiet nature, but in high school - his stutter had developed into more of a problem. Though he’d been through speech therapy, it didn’t help when he devolved into fits of anxiety - often talking too much, stammering, and getting stuck on certain sounds.

His nanny picked him up from school one afternoon after a particularly brutal day - one that had ended with him being beaten by classmates after school. He’d not said a word to them, simply allowing it to happen.

At home, he’d gone to his father for comfort only to be told that it was his own fault for not standing up for himself and not being a true Rovigatti man. This cycle never stopped. When he’d come home from school sporting a new black eye or smelling like actual garbage or soaking wet from the torture he endured - he was always berated for not doing something more.

He confided in the current nanny one night that he wanted to leave, that he didn’t want to be a Rovigatti anymore, through tears and hiccups. She saw the mistreatment of him and began to allow him to stay at her home, where she could care for him more like a mother might. He couldn’t stay forever, and he resolved to become emancipated as soon he was able - it took two years before it was finalized, finally leaving his family at age 16. Jasper Rovigatti was no longer, he chose the name of his nanny and moved in with her - Jasper Davis could finally be his own person.

He switched schools, and finally made his grades to be able to graduate - not with high honors, but enough to get him a job at a bookstore to help support himself and Ms. Davis and her wife.

College was never a dream of his, and with his new life in poverty - he didn’t even consider the idea of it. Instead, he resolved to do what he always wished he could: write. The first book he tried to get optioned for publishing was rejected over and over again, mostly because he didn’t have the right connections, the right hook, the right look. But he was determined. After all, there are now so many other avenues to get your stories out in the world.

Starting the podcast was a years long endeavor - the book had to be transformed into a script. He had to find voice actors willing to take minimal pay until they would get big (and he swore that they would, no matter how much it took from them.)

The first few teasers on YouTube and Spotify went under the radar, but the introductory one describing the actual setting of his dream work caught the attention of a few influencers on TikTok, and suddenly the City of Auris was starting to capture attention. The first episode went viral - though still not enough listeners to keep him afloat. They’ve been gaining an audience ever since, each episode bringing more and more in as the story thickens and the world expands.

When he saw the first fanart, he cried for two hours.

Now, he works diligently to write and produce the podcast as his only job, still living with Ms. Davis and her wife, the two women that he now affectionately calls his mothers. After all, Ms. Davis was the one who had truly raised him.

In the Rovigatti’s world, Jasper is unaware that his father is now in prison and his mother has accepted the help of an organization called The Syndicate.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

CO-WORKERS; This would be anyone who works on the City of Auris podcast with him. Could be anything from audio engineers to voice actors to social media managers. It's still up and coming, but fairly popular!

FANS OF THE SHOW; Anyone who's been listening to City of Auris and wants to meet the brain behind it all. He might not be what they seem, but he keeps himself behind the scenes for a reason.

CLASSMATES; Either from private school or his stint in a public high school. He's still much the same person he's always been: quiet, anxious, stuttery. It grew worse in public school and those who knew him there would have either been witnesses to his bullying or perpetrators of it.

ROVIGATTI CONNECTION; These would be people who know of him through the Rovigattis or friends with them after his emancipation. Either way, there is no love lost between him and his birth parents so this would be a rather tense connection, as he doesn't trust it.

DAVIS CONNECTION; His mothers are the types of people to be very involved in the community. While Ms. Davis works as a nanny for the richest of the rich, her wife Ms. Martinez spends most of her time volunteering at homeless shelters and organizing mutual aid within their neighborhood. Whenever someone is in need, they always know to go to the Davis', who will provide a place to sleep and a warm meal. Jasper has met many people living with them for a few years, and is always happy to help those in need.

ROOMMATES (0/2); He lives in a two bedroom apartment with two other people. They've transformed the living room area into a studio where Jasper sleeps, and the small bedrooms are his roommates. They spend a lot of time revolving in and out of the space, but they don't spend a lot of time together or at home. The few times they do manage to meet and hang out, they're at his mothers' place for dinner and board games.