#Fascinating science - now stop it

[mvncesa]

just realized earlier, after literal fucking years, that decker uses not only his own military training but also the way wolves hunt/fight in the wild during the fight scene of his episode and I’m going to scream

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Does Not Believe in Ghosts

Which is a problem because his boyfriend is a ghost. Or, at least, that’s what Danny keeps trying to explain to him.

Tim isn’t dismissive—he’s fascinated by Danny’s abilities and origin story. But ghosts as in “the dead-but-not-gone spirits of human beings”? That just doesn’t register for him. Tim has met aliens, time travelers, and gods alike, but actual ghosts feel like a line too far for his rational mind.

“It’s probably a dimensional thing,” Tim muses one night while calibrating a piece of ectoplasm-sensitive tech. “You’re a type of interdimensional entity made of ectoplasmic energy, and your world calls them ghosts because it’s a good linguistic match. Makes sense.”

Danny stares at him from his spot on the couch, one eyebrow twitching. “Tim, I’m literally dead.”

Tim pauses, turning his chair to face Danny. “Okay, but… not really, right? Because you’re still here. Like, functioning. Alive-ish. It's more likely that the portal exposure altered your molecular structure and tethered your consciousness to an ectoplasmic state. That doesn’t make you a ghost, Danny. It makes you… a transdimensional being, maybe?”

Danny sighs, sitting up and dragging his hands through his hair. “Tim, I died. My heart stopped. My body turned into ectoplasm. And now I’m stuck between being alive and… not.”

Tim’s expression softens as he sets the equipment down. “I’m not trying to invalidate what happened to you, Danny,” he says gently. “I just think you’re reshaping what it means to exist. ‘Ghost’ feels like the wrong word for someone as... tangible as you. You’re not some lingering spirit—you’re real. You’re you.”

Danny blinks at him, caught off guard. “Well... that’s kinda sweet, but it’s also wrong. I’m literally the definition of a ghost. I haunt places. I make ghost noises.”

“Sure, Danny,” Tim says, with a small, indulgent smile that sends Danny spiraling between affection and frustration. He reaches over to squeeze Danny’s knee. “You’re definitely a ghost.”

Danny groans, flopping back onto the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” Tim corrects, leaning back in his chair.

“No, you’re dense.”

It’s not like Danny hasn’t tried to convince him. He’s gone intangible mid-conversation, flown through walls, and even pulled out his ghostly wail—though he only did that because Bruce was safely out of earshot. None of it works. Tim just treats it all like a fascinating science experiment instead of proof that Danny is, in fact, dead.

“Tim, what will it take for you to admit that ghosts are real?” Danny grumbles, covering his face with a pillow.

Tim hums, thoughtful. “I don’t know. Hard evidence? Like a case study? Maybe letting me run some tests?”

Danny lifts the pillow just enough to glare at him. “You are the case study!”

Tim gives him an easy smile. “Exactly. And the results are inconclusive.”

He’s still annoyed, but… well, maybe having a boyfriend who insists on understanding everything isn’t the worst thing in the world.

At least Tim cares enough to try. Even if he’s completely, utterly wrong.

[yandere-wishes]

｡ ₊°༺ Pink Pony Club ༻°₊ ｡

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Yandere! Dr Phosphorus x Reader ⋆ཋ�� ˚₊‧

⋆.𝄞𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓟𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫 𝓑𝔂 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓸𝓪𝓷𝄞˚.⋆

✮★✮ Oh Mama, I'm just having fun, on the stage in my heels it's where I belong, down at the Pink Pony Club, I'm gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club. ✮★✮

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He lets the music roll over him, allowing the drums to melt over his flames and bleed into the marrow of his black bones. When you dance, you have to focus on the turn out of each step, on the wave of your arms, when to stiffen when to loosen. It makes it all so easy to forget the pain of being constantly on fire. To forget the melancholy that festers inside you. When the adrenaline is this high, you can only make out the strobing neon lights and the dazed amusement of the crowd.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ It's hard to hate the music and the lights, to shy away from a crowd so easily fascinated by the gleeful macabre. It's really the most sanity-inducing thing you can cling to when your body has turned into the thing you once loved. When you've become your research after watching your old self die in a furnace at the hands of those who once wielded all the power in the world. Funny how we make our own monsters, funny how the thing that kills us, is nothing more than the very man we once tried to kill, now engulfed by his own invention. Phosphorus spins, left leg, right leg, jump, and twirl.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The dancing, the music, the clapping, the lights, it's all so perfect for melting away the terrible things that slither inside him, to burn away all those good memories until the kill and the luxury are all the remains. It's getting just too easy to forget his son's face, to forget the smile his wife gave him on their wedding day.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's a moment between moments when the world seems to stop. It's only then that he notices you, or rather notices what you're wearing. It's the dress he thinks, pink like the mushroom clouds he'd once adored, like the sunset framing devastation. Or maybe it's the way you have your hair so cruelly tied. Tight circle above your head like an atom waiting to explode. In a flash it's over, someone is handing him a drink. Another sitting on his lap. And he's thrust harshly back into reality, back to a world of trying to forget.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus is and always will be a man of logic. A man of science. He lets his fingers glide over the stack of pristine hundred-dollar bills. To think he'd spent his whole life begging for a quarter of all of this. Begging for scraps of funding to save the lives of thousands. It had all been so important once. Still, he can't help but let his mind wonder, what could he build with all of this? What could he solve, discover, create? He tells his men to lock it up in the safe, he's not ready to go back to all of that just yet.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The next time Phosphorus sees you, he's half sunken into the plush couch of the VIP lounge. It's been a long day, a long tough day. Everything had gone wrong and all so right in the same breath. This time your dress is the shade of clouds marred by the blood of a dying sun. He should know this shade from the history books he'd used to read, the shade of skylines behind ancient temples. Back then he'd been trying to understand. Understand what he's not quite sure, he'd been so desperate to pry every little answer from the world. To chew their solutions, breaking them with his teeth and spitting out his own variation, his own thesis. He'd been so utterly convinced of his own intellect, convinced that reading Saadi at the same time as the latest research paper on Nuclear decay meant understanding the world.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He watched with staunch fascination as you tried to dance. Following your friend's steps, heels stepping awkwardly completely out of tune. You bend your knees, sinking to the floor. And Phosphorus can't think of any excuses for why his cheeks feel hotter than usual. Why his eyes are permanently affixed to the sway of your arms.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He thinks you look just like nuclear fission dancing in the limelight with your friends. Like you've split your own body to create them. Little atomic nucleus dancing under his microscope. You look perfect, your toned legs amplified by the radioactive pink of your heels. Long neck he'd love to kiss decorated with a thin string of gold. You don't look a thing like the other girls at the lounge, you look like an experiment beckoning him, seducing him into cutting you open, and observing how you explode.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's been following you keenly, trying to see what happens next. It's the fourth week in a row that he's forgotten about dancing for the crowd, about the girls who used to hang off his arms. He's too devoted to this experiment. "Nuclear scientist finds atomic bomb inside ancient temple from the bronze age". Phosphorus examines the sway of your hips, the bob of your head, and the crude kicks of your legs. There's something wrong with those heels, they're too thin, too high, inviting everyone to stare at you. But he's quick to shove them away, circling you from afar. He can't let anyone tamper with his experimentation. Certain matter performs differently when it knows it's being observed. So he allows the notion of invisibility, making you feel unobserved, safe in your own ignorance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He hasn't felt this alive in years. This ecstasy tastes utterly sweet, pure saccharine. It's the same thrill as watching your particles stabilize after days of trying to find the right frequency. Watching them organize into the right motion. And isn't that what you are? An ionized atom. After all, what is dancing if not ionization, if not trying to lose a part of yourself you can no longer bear?

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's late tonight, rivals had somehow bled in and were after the safe from Phosphorus' newest heist. He'd burned them to a crisp and danced on their ashes until they flew away. But that doesn't change the fact that he's late, too late in fact. When he rushes through the door, men nervously run behind him. His eyeless sockets fall upon an uttermost dreary sight...

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The problem with people is that they never truly appreciate beauty. They treat it as if it's something to conquer something to tame. They never bother to understand it, to study it from afar whispering prayers of gratitude for bearing witness to this new discipline. The man's body is too close to yours, head following your lips, as you awkwardly try to sidestep. The moment you try to flee he grabs your wrist. You scream, no one ever hears screaming through the bass and the rhythm.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's smoke in your eyes, sickly-sweet honey in the back of your throat. It's all too acrid but at least the hand assaulting your wrist subsides. The thing in front of you glows green, an acidic neon green that feels too familiar in shade. You watch as the skeleton seizes your shoulders, such a warm touch hearthlike in every way. He pulls you closer till all you can smell is null and all you can feel is smothering warmth.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never quite quiver under his touch, never fully shy away when he cups your jaw and tilts your head. It's like you want the radiation, want to feel his nuclear essence bleeding into you. Maybe then you'll be whole. Maybe then neither of you will need the music, and the lights, and the crowd to feel whole.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never belonged in the clubs, it was painfully obvious you could never mold to their dances, their music. Your heels never fit right. Phosphorous knows he's been trying to do the very same for all so long. Neither of you needed to kill off your electrons, to throw them away to ignorant nobodies who would sooner hurt you for their own voracious motivations. "Give me your electrons and I'll give you mine." Phosphorus tucks your head into the crux of his shoulder, "I'll fuse with you so you'll never need anyone else."

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus' hands mirror yours, swaying overhead before falling lower like the cascade of a wave. Side step, side step, stop, and bend. He thinks this is better than any club, any choreography he could do by himself. He feels so whole dancing only for your eyes. He feels so happy having you dance only for his eyes. Your palms touch as you circle slowly. Dancing like the airy rotation of electrons. There's no more dancing at the Pink Pony Club.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ What do you call a dance that feels like merging two atoms? What do you call it when your heart feels like the denotation of a bomb? He presses his lips to yours slowly, feeling the nuclei crash, a nuclear reaction, his tongue hum between your teeth endeavoring to melt away your fear. His fingers, dance across your hips heating up, leaving burning hearts and hand prints, claiming you as his, making you death just like him.

Lost the request for this but thank you so so much to the sender!! 💞💋💞💋

[thanergetic-hyperlinks]

Tamsyn Muir's writing beyond The Locked Tomb

Y'all, turns out there's lots of imagery and themes in TLT that Muir was already playing with in her earlier fiction. A lot of it is easily available online, in which case I'll link to it. (The short stories that aren't can also be easily read if googled, to be quite honest—that's how I read The Deepwater Bride and Why the Mermaids Left Boralus). • The House That Made the Sixteen Loops of Time (2011)

5K. Short sort-of-cozy romance (?) with (you guessed it) a time travel loop. Explores a very queer potential relationship. CamPal enjoyers might find a similar sweetness.

• The Magician's Apprentice (2012, Lightspeed Magazine)

5K. This is the one that stopped me dead on my tracks. It features an older, male mentor figure called John (a “very ordinary man” with “dark eyes”) who introduces the young, female main character to magic that has a terrible cost—and to literature such as Lolita. This excellent post by @familyabolisher does an incredible job of analyzing the very deliberate intertextual links between TLT and Lolita.

• The Woman in the Hill (2015, Lightspeed Magazine, originally for Dreams From the Witch House anthology of Lovecraftian horror by women)

4K. Possibly my favorite! It's a straightforward Lovecraftian horror, centered on the image of the woman (is it human though?) trapped in an unnatural pool inside a cursed cave. Chain imagery too. It does something different from Alecto, mind, but you can see links, ways of playing with facets of a strong central image. It's fun to consider how reliable the two narrators are. Here's an analysis and afterthought from Reactor Mag.

• Chew (2013) 4K. Zombie abuse and cannibalistic revenge story ft. an uncanny woman revenant, told from the eyes of a traumatized German boy. I was strongly reminded of Harrow's conversations with the Body. Tamsyn gave an interview on the themes and her intentions. Interesting to read in light of Alecto, I think, although I don't think she's going the same route in TLT: “the idea of post-war rebuilding connecting to rebuilding the body of the zombie; a Frankenstein who once rebuilt doesn’t act as planned or desired. […] I love cannibalism […] it’s innately spiritual […] any afterlife she goes to, he’s going too.”

• Apothecia (2014, published on Tumblr and tapas.io)

Short webcomic where an alien monster tries to corrupt the ruthless human girl who holds it captive. Musings on responsibility and murder, mention of child abuse. The alien's speech patterns remind me of a Resurrection Beast. You get wonderful dialogue like “Murder is a profession. Job. Employment, you tiny leg dog. There you are, walking along. Walk walk walk. Now you are a walker. Good job. Special child. Murder is like this.” Art by Shelby Cragg.

• The Deepwater Bride (2015, Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine)

The opening line is: “In the time of our crawling Night Lord's ascendancy, foretold by exodus of starlight into his sucking astral wounds, I turned sixteen and received Barbie's Dream Car.” Need I say more? Extremely fun. A novelette where a young queer girl from a clairvoyant family struggles with an apocalyptic event while being annoyed by another very plucky girl. Lots of descriptions with nerdy marine zoology terms. Close in tone to Gideon. In the background, someone dies EXACTLY like that one death at the end of Gideon, which makes me wonder what happened to make Tamsyn interested in this particular image. I also liked that Tamsyn is aware of Nightwish. No link, but you'll get a PDF immediately if you Google.

• Union (2015, Clarkesworld Magazine)

5.5K. Very weird, extremely Kiwi story about a town that gets sent lab-grown wives by the government, but they're not made the usual way so they're Weird and people have feelings about it. Fascinating and eerie description of non-human (in some people's eyes, sub-human) women (?) who cannot be observed to have recognizable feelings or thoughts, yet have some sort of inner life. Quite touching, very uncanny.

• Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower (2020)

Short novel (~200 pages). Very funny. I was reminded of Coronabeth because the whole plot is “princess finds herself branching out into decidedly non-princess-like activities”, but other than that—this is a fairytale for adults about people who make eachother worse. No particular links to TLT but a very fun read with some gut punches. Extremely Tamsyn through and through, what with the dubious morality and all.

• Why the Mermaids Left Boralus (2021, in Folk & Fairy Tales of Azeroth by Blizzard Entertainment)

Set in the World of Warcraft universe. Haven't read this one yet, will report back lmao. As with The Deepwater Bride, no link but I easily found a PDF of the entire compilation. It's illustrated!

• Undercover (2022, from Into Shadow, Amazon Original Collection)

Haven't read it either. Will edit once I do.

[dreamerdrop]

Tags from @autistic-mandalorian which are too good to leave as tags:

#This was my thought too #But then I thought "maybe in the Trek future there are just Really Fucking Good accommodations?? And he did want to be a doctor as a kid™ #So I think either one works and they illustrate different ideas #If he does become a doctor - then that proves the augmentation was nothing but ableism and self-serving abuse on his parents part #Because they decided what their son could and couldnt do as an adult before he was even ten years old and before trying Any accommodations #If he doesnt become a doctor - then that proves that his worth and happiness are not in fact tied to his performance and accomplishments #And just existing as himself is enough to create a happy life and to be loved #Both are good thematically it just depends on which one you are going for.

YES. That’s exactly the thing, as long Julian meets an unaugmented version of himself who is content with himself and his life, it doesn’t matter much what that life looks like in the end, because either way it still presses on one of the long held wounds Julian has been nursing his whole life as a result of being augmented in the first place.

Julian Bashir meeting an alternate universe version of himself who still goes by Jules. Jules doesn't fake eye contact as well as Julian. When he speaks, it's mostly in short direct sentences, as few words and as to the point as possible. He can still ramble for an hour on a topic he's passionate about though.

Julian realising in slow horror that Jules is also a doctor. Jules also works for Starfleet. Jules is also stationed on DS9. Jules is friends with his own Garak, who thinks he is delightful and intelligent and interesting. Jules is still friends with a Miles O'Brien who thinks he is a little weird and off putting but will fist fight anyone who talks bad about him. They still play darts and racquetball, though Jules isn't quite as good, he and Miles still treat each other as friendly rivals.

Jules, who is still a diligent and dedicated professional, who takes pride in his work as a doctor, and whose parents were arrested and charged before he ever set foot on Adigeon Prime. Jules, who mended Kukalaka and continued to stitch him up for years to come just like Julian.

The slowly dawning horror Julian has at realising that this is who he might have been, and that Jules is, in fact, fine. He wasn't top of his class, but he's still a damn good doctor. He can't work for three days straight without sleeping, but he's no less dedicated. He's not as physically adept, but he's doing fine. He's loved. He's fulfilled. He's happy.

Julian Bashir isn't sure how any of that is making him feel about himself at all, nor does he know why he finds himself crying himself to sleep that night.

[yandere-romanticaa]

An idea that I really like is Ratio falling for someone who is his complete and total opposite in every way imaginable.

He is the kind of person that operates on pure cold logic and facts. He believes in what he sees in front of him with his own two eyes and yes, while it may be fascinating, perhaps even a little entertaining, to philosophize about various unimaginable concepts they are all indeed just that.

Concepts. Ideas. Things made up from the bottom of the bored human psyche.

Veritas Ratio is a man who is able to grasp many, dare he say, possibly every concept he has ever encountered. He loves a challenge but hardly anything is challenging to him because he is such a genius. He devours books that are over a thousand pages long, the most complicated equations of any science are finished by his hand with such ease that many people might mistake him for a machine rather than a man of flesh and blood.

That's what makes it so fun to see him fall for an airhead. A person who probably doesn't care, or doesn't have the mental capacity to care about such things. This person would rather spend their days dallying away, picking flowers, baking, just doing things that are so mundane and plain (to him). If they do decide to read, it is some trashy romance model, maybe even just straight up written porn if they're just that shameless.

And this is the person who has Ratio grabbing his head in frustration.

He's shaking with anger in his room, golden eyes wobbly as he watches you walk up and down the space ship. You got lost, again. How much of an imbecile are you? Do you truly need someone to guide you through everything? With a huff, the scientist grabs his head made of plaster and makes his exist. He puts the mask on and in no time finds you, all lost in the hallways. You hear his upcoming footsteps before you see him and once you turn around, you are greeted with that bizarre mask you've grown so accustomed to.

You greet the man cheerfully, to which he just huffs. With his arms crossed, Ratio gives you a long and detailed lesson on how you ought to be more careful and aware of your surroundings, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. You are not a child and should stop acting like one.

Tears swell in your eyes but none are shed as the two of you turn back, him being a few steps ahead of you. Two pairs of footprints sound incredibly loud in this long and dark corridor. Veritas hears you quietly weeping and he feels the slight inkling of guilt pulling his heartstrings.

... Perhaps he was a smidge too harsh with you.

You are a clueless creature, sure. But maybe, he sometimes reveled in that fact. It was wrong and he would never admit it out loud but his heart whispered it clearly to him - you like this.

Veritas watched you carefully through the reflection of the window, the plaster head concealing the expression on his face. With your lips in a full pout and eyes watery like fresh morning dew, he couldn't help but to be just slightly charmed.

He scoffed to himself as he pressed onwards. He figured he had better standards for himself but that was not the case, clearly.

And just like that, he had escorted you back to your room. He could hear you mumble out a quiet thank you, which he acknowledged with a polite nod with his head.

He's not that cruel. Or rude for that matter!

With the situation now swiftly dealt with, Ratio figured it was high time he went back to his studies. He has already wasted far too much precious time on this, he isn't even sure when he'll finish that -

His train of thought is broken when he feels a pair of arms gently embrace him from behind, the warmth welcoming and dare he say sweet.

Veritas stilled, his body like the statue which some saw him to be. You still could not see his face but his anger could still be felt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he spat at you, his tone cold but venomous.

He felt your face being pressed against his broad back, fat tears caking his fine clothing. Just as he was about to pry your hands off him, he heard you finally speak:

"Thank you for helping me. Really..."

Your tone was soft and remorseful. You did not want to disturb him but despite that, you did just that. He was willing to accept your apology and have this situation be over with but what you said next simply knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"You see, I... I wasn't sure how I could get your attention. I just wanted you to notice me, to talk to me..."

.... Goodness.

He was used to people trying to get his attention but to act like such a pathetic damsel in distress was new. He had to give you credit for your creativity, at the very least.

"I want to be your friend. I also want you to teach me all sorts of things-"

Ratio stopped listening to you mid sentence, his mind running hundreds of laps in thought. Perhaps you weren't the idiot he saw you as. Your little ploy worked, clearly. And if he took you under his wing, who knew what would become of you.

He could turn you into a diamond with his own two hands.

It was embarrassing just how giddy the thought made him.

The shadows of curiosity and some other emotions took over his mind as he analyzed the situation. There really was no harm in taking you all for himself.

Besides, if you were capable of this deceitful plan, who knew what else you could do?

He was eager to find out.

[yasmindifference]

Cheer up prompt #27

An anon and @this-was-a-terrible-idea also requested #27! A popular number apparently lol. I hope you all enjoy! ♡

"--and then Mr. Browsten said that with all the, um, the hullabaloo that it wasn't fair to make us take a test, so he cancelled it."

Tim pauses for breath and Mom hums an encouraging noise. When Dad makes that sound, it means he's not really listening, but he knows Mom's paying attention, even though she hasn't stopped curling her hair. From where he's lying on her bed, he can see her reflection in the vanity mirror, and she's frowning just like he knew she would.

Mom doesn't approve of canceling tests, which means she doesn't approve of Mr. Browsten, because he cancels them all the time.

(Mom says tests are important to know where improvement is necessary. Mr. Browsten doesn't seem to agree.)

"So we watched a documentary instead and it was pretty interesting, it was about puffer fish! Sarah asked what puffer fish have to do with grammar and Mr. Browsten said that learning is its own reward, but I think he just didn't have anything else ready so he took something from Ms. Cappola instead. She's the fifth grade science teacher and I heard her classes watch movies at least twice a week."

Mom tuts, which Tim was expecting, and sets down her curling iron.

"Ridiculous," she mutters. "I don't know why we're paying that school so much in tuition when they can't be bothered to teach you anything. It's a miracle you ever learned to read."

"It's because I'm smart," Tim informs her helpfully, and Mom smiles her special just-for-Tim smile.

"You are," she agrees. "And thank goodness for that. Now, would my smart boy do me a favor?"

Because Tim's smart, he already knows what she's going to ask. He rolls off the bed to his feet. "Curling iron?"

"Yes, please." Mom rolls her chair away from the vanity so he can crawl under it to unplug the curling iron. She plugged it in herself, but that was before she was all dressed up in her expensive dress. "Thank you, Timmy."

"You're welcome," he chirps, crawling back out.

Mom rolls back in front of the vanity, but Tim stays where he is, kneeling next to it so he can watch her put her makeup on. There are a lot of different bottles and brushes and powders involved, but Mom never hesitates. Tim doesn't know how she keeps it all straight.

He likes watching Mom get ready to go out. Sometimes--like tonight--she lets him pick out the jewelry she's gonna wear, and then she chooses her dress and hair and makeup all based on what he picked. Even when the colors don't match, it all fits together like a puzzle...a puzzle she pieces together in seconds after Tim's impulsive choice.

It's really cool.

Tonight, Tim picked pretty, dangly earrings with some kind of red stone (ruby, Mom said when he asked), so Mom picked a black dress. She said it would make the earrings pop, which he didn't get until he saw her wearing it.

Now, he watches her choose lipstick as red as the earrings and asks, "Does the lipstick make the earrings pop, too?"

Mom finishes smoothing it on before she smiles at him. "You tell me."

Tim studies her. The lipstick matches the earrings, but it doesn't draw attention to them the way the plain dress does. He already watched her do her eye stuff, and her eyes look bigger somehow, but they're not colorful like they were when they all went to the opera last week.

"No," he decides. "You went new...neutral?" He waits for her slight nod of confirmation, then continues, encouraged, "You went neutral with your eye stuff and red with your lipstick to make your lips pop."

"Very good," Mom says, smiling. She cups his cheek briefly before turning back to the vanity. "Clever boy."

Tim beams and watches in fascinated silence as she uses some kind of powder. Even though he's staring right at her, he can't tell what the powder actually does. All he knows is that when she's done, her face looks...different. Still pretty, but kinda sharper somehow.

Makeup is like magic, he decides. No matter how many times he watches her get ready, he can never figure it out.

"Can I try?" he asks impulsively.

"Try what?" Mom asks, a little distracted. The cap on one of her bottles is stuck and she's struggling to open it.

"Your makeup!" Tim takes the bottle from her and opens it by using the hem of his shirt to grip it better. Mom can't do that, her dress is all shiny and slippery. "You look pretty, I wanna try."

Mom pauses and then smiles.

"I don't have long before I have to leave," she warns him, "but I don't see why not. Do you want to pick out some lipstick?"

Tim absolutely does. He levers to his feet as, across the room, Dad finally stirs. He's been reading some stuff his assistant from Drake Industries brought by earlier, ignoring them both, but now he says, "Janet" in a weird tone.

"Jack?" Mom asks, even as she directs Tim's attention to the little circles on the bottom of her lipstick tubes that show what color they are. She has a lot of options.

"Janie, really," Dad says. He sounds unhappy, and Tim looks up from comparing two different shades of pink to find him frowning. "You can't mean to let our son--"

He stops mid-sentence and Tim bites back a wince. Dad's in trouble; Tim hasn't seen that look on Mom's face since he told her about his last nanny giving him whiskey to help him sleep when he woke up from bad dreams.

"My son," Mom says very deliberately, "is welcome to express himself however he likes."

Is trying makeup expressing himself? Tim just wants to see if it makes him as pretty as it does Mom.

Either way, that's not a good tone. Tim looks down and concentrates really hard on picking out a lipstick.

"Janet," Dad tries again, weakly. He obviously knows he's in Big Trouble, but for some reason he hasn't apologized yet. Tim tries to psychically tell him to cut his losses and back down, but his telepathy apparently still hasn't kicked in, because Dad says, "It's just that--"

"Do you know what you want to try, sweetheart?" Mom asks, completely ignoring Dad.

Tim looks between his parents, decides to let Dad dig his own grave, and hands Mom the red he settled on.

(If it's the red that most closely resembles the red in Robin's uniform...well, it's not like Mom has any way of knowing that.)

"Excellent choice!" Mom says. She stands up from the vanity and pats her chair. "Take a seat."

Tim does, excited. He's not usually allowed to sit at Mom's vanity.

Lipstick, he learns quickly, feels really weird. He has to sit super still while Mom puts it on him, and it makes his lips feel weirdly heavy, like there's something on them.

Which there is, actually, so...he doesn't know what he was expecting.

Mom hands him a tissue so he can "blot" his lips, just like he's seen her do a million times, and then steps aside so he can see his reflection in the mirror.

"Whoa," Tim says, leaning closer. He makes a few faces, pushing his lips together and out, transfixed by how bright and noticeable they are. It doesn't make him pretty like Mom, but he likes how it looks anyway. "Cool."

Behind him, Dad throws up his hands and leaves the room. He's angry, Tim can tell, but Mom is smiling down at him, so Tim's not worried.

"Do you want to pick eyeshadow next?" she asks.

"Yes, please!"

Prompt #27 was experimentation! Well selected! ♡♡

[hwangism143]

all i want for christmas

synopsis the three christmas parties minho spent loving you and the one where he finally told you.

pairing non-idol!minho x fem!reader

genre holidays, best friends to lovers, fluff, comfort, 3 + 1 format

warnings mentions of foods, fires, cheating, physical violence (jokingly), swearing, pregnancy ;) , kissing, not proofread

word count 4.3k words

now playing all i want for christmas - mariah carey

a/n wow. so. i'm back. i genuinely missed you guys so much and im so happy to write again. i felt really guilty for just disappearing but this might be my only fic for a while. im sorry if it's bad im genuinely so out of practice.

"i don't need a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need"

zero.

Love was a dreadful, terrible thing. Minho knew firsthand.

He also knew that love could be beautiful. It existed everywhere.

It existed when Minho would feel a smile break out on his face when he would step through his door to the sound of his cats. He knew it existed in the way Chan always made sure that Seungmin had eaten and Jeongin wasn't too hard on himself. It existed in the way Hyunjin wore his emotional scars with pride and in the way Changbin's face would scrunch up adorably as soon as he saw his girlfriend.

But love must be a horrendous thing if it could someone as deserving of it as you through such excruciating pain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year one.

Minho always associated loving you with Christmas. It was mainly for two reasons: because you loved Christmas, and Christmas was when he realized he loved you.

Minho had become your best friend on the first day of college when you stumbled into him while looking for your batchmates after orientation. It was almost fate (despite Minho considering fate to be bullshit), the way he held onto your shoulders to make sure your face didn't hit the floor and you gave him a weak, petrified smile.

"Computer Science major?" he asked, and your quick reply in the positive laid the foundations of your unbreakable friendship.

Minho knew he loved you for a long time. But the realization of it dawned on him during your annual Christmas party when the two of you were in your second year of college.

You were absolutely fanatical about Christmas. Despite Minho's protests about your fascination being sickening, he secretly found it extremely endearing. You had confessed to him once, how your love for Christmas stemmed from the fact that you only saw your father during Christmas due to his demanding job of a military's medic.

That was the day Minho vowed to make sure nobody could ruin your Christmas.

You went all out Christmas decorations at your apartment. Your Christmas tree was huge and adorned with ornaments of various shapes, sizes and colours. Minho came early to help you and your roommate Kyujin with the Christmas baking, considering how last time the two of you tried to bake it took swatting towels and spraying water to get the smoke detector to stop.

But you were most excited to introduce your boyfriend to the rest of your friend group.

Minho wasn't happy about it, but he was happy for you. You loved the idea of romance but for some reason that Minho could not fathom, thought yourself undeserving of receiving the romantic variant of it. But your first boyfriend, whom you'd been seeing for three months, quickly changed that.

You were practically bouncing up and down on your toes as your mutual friends trailed into your tiny apartment.

"Y/N!" Jisung squealed as he barreled into your arms.

"Sungie!" you replied in equal enthusiasm.

Minho's heart melted watching you, his best friend, and Jisung, his roommate, getting along so well. In fact, sometimes he felt third wheeled by his two favorite people who wouldn't have known each other if it wasn't for him.

"Tonight," Jisung declared proudly, "I will serenade Minho with a tear-jerking rendition of 'All I Want For Christmas'."

Jisung stood on top of your couch, arms spread out proudly. He sent Minho a boisterous wink and Minho tried to hide a chuckle while rolling his eyes.

"The only tears shed will be because of Jisung's pathetic voice," grumbled Hyunjin, Jisung's best friend, already dreading the moment when he would have to drag his drunk and sappy ass back home.

Your cheeks turned pink in a poorly contained laugh while Hyunjin just gave you a shrug, only the three of you privy to Hyunjin's comment. Minho saw your face and found his own flushing, quickly blinking to make sure nobody noticed. Jisung shot Minho, you and Hyunjin an accusatory glance, but your little smirk caused him to look away in annoyance.

"I will not date you, Jisung," said Minho in an overly dramatic voice. Jisung pouted and this time, the whole room burst into laughter until Kyujin yelled a string of obscenities at him to get him off the couch.

But throughout the whole debacle, Minho's eyes only belonged to you. He couldn't help but wonder, how would you feel about dating him? These feeling had been brewing for long, even before you started dating Taehyun What's-His-Face. Minho knew he had feeling for you, but today he would realize just how deep they ran.

"You okay? Your cheeks are red man. Like, tomato red," asked the ever vigilant Chan.

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm good," replied Minho nervously, hoping that Chan didn't notice.

"Yep," said Chan, clearly unconvinced, his eyes still narrowed on Minho.

Minho did not get nervous easily. He was calm, stoic, composed. But around you, he was a ticking time bomb. You made Minho feel like a thousand dazzling fireworks had lit up in his stomach. You made him want to be spontaneous, silly and scream from the rooftops that he liked you and wanted to be with you.

You made Minho feel things he had never felt before, and it broke him everyday watching you feel those same things for someone who wasn't him.

Minho's eyes looked for yours, you slipping away sometime when he was contemplating his lost love. He finally found you, leaning against Kyujin bedroom door. Your loose sweater hung off a shoulder and pointer finger of your right hand was caught between your teeth. In your other hand was your phone which lit up when you opened.

God, you looked ethereal.

Until your eyes flickered up and down, you blinked multiple times and your brow creased while your bottom lip quivered. Minho had known you long and intimately enough that something was very, very wrong. Before you even looked up at him, your eyes conveying a silent cry, Minho was striding towards you like a man on a mission.

"Minho," you choked out, and he whisked you into Kyujin's room, giving a concerned Kyujin watching everything a tight nod as he did.

"Minho, Minho, he -" you were sobbing, gasping in wretched breaths that made it feel like a knife was twisting into his heart.

He watched you nearly terrified, rubbing your back soothingly. Minho murmured sweet nothings into your ear to get you to calm down and explain to him what had happened as his on heart raced at nearly a thousand miles per hour.

"What happened sweetheart? Y/N?" Minho asked, his voice laced with worry.

Wordlessly, you handed over your phone to him as you buried your face into his shoulder.

[7:32 PM]

taehyunnie: look y/n, i hate to do this on christmas but

taehyunnie: i have had something come up

taehyunnie: so i won't make it

[7:34 PM]

taehyunnie: quite frankly, we should break up

taehyunnie: i don't think either of us is in the right mental state to date right now.

taehyunnie: sorry.

Minho was seeing red. How could someone do something like this to you? You, who was perfect to the extent where even your imperfections were perfect? Minho was about to ask you what day you would like for him to murder Taehyun when you interrupted him.

"He's not wrong," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I was so excited to date someone that I probably got to clingy and scared him off."

"That's not true," said Minho shaking your shoulders, "That's not true, anybody would be tripping over their feet to date you."

And as Minho repeated those words to you like a chant, over and over again until you believed them as much as he did, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Guilt simmered in his stomach because of the thoughts he was having.

Amidst the winter chill and your broken cries, Lee Minho realized that he was hopelessly and damningly in love with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year two.

The second year Minho spent Christmas with you, things had changed. Minho's hair grew longer, curling at the base of his neck and you forbade him from cutting it. You had let go over your initial heartbreak from the events of the previous Christmas and for some reason, deluded yourself into thinking that you were unlovable.

The only thing that barely changed was Minho's love for you, apart from maybe how it increased in magnitude.

"You should tell her, you know. Or else you'll end up regretting it," remarked Hyunjin wisely.

The ever so observant boy was the only one who knew about Minho felt when it came to you. Even then, he didn't know the uncharted depth of how much Minho loved you. Just that he hopelessly and unequivocally did.

Minho glared at him in response, snatching a brownie from Hyunjin's hand, and began eating it as Hyunjin grumbled next to him in vain.

Minho was well aware that he was right. But he (foolishly), thought he was sparing you pain by miserably keeping his feelings to himself.

Minho hated and adored every second of loving you. He hated how stifling it was, not being able to whisper soft words of romance in your ear late at night and wake with you in his arms the next morning. But he adored how his heart picked up pace at just the sight of you and how he felt weightless at your featherlight brushes of his arm.

To put it simply, loving someone from afar was as temperamental as the oceans; the tides were hauntingly beautiful and gorgeously devastating but they were impossible to escape from.

An ugly metaphor, felt Minho, who had yet to master the art of swimming.

Minho sat on the couch, Hyunjin and Jeongin playing Mario Kart on one side of him and Chan and Kyujin engaged in an intense game of Uno on the other side of him. You were off socializing as you often did during your annual Christmas parties, but Minho knew you would come back to him.

You always did.

Minho set up shop at five in the morning that day with you. Kyujin had a Christmas dance recital that day, and you both were one set of hands down. From morning, the two of you diced, rolled and baked, dusted and decorated, troubled each other and even had a little tickling bout followed by a pillow fight (and plate of burnt snowman shaped cookies).

This was the future that Minho wanted, you by his side engaging in mundane activities with lazy, soft kisses peppered to each others lips every dya.

He watched, sick with envy, as Changbin scooped up his girlfriend Chaeyeon in his arms and start pressing kisses to her face while she squealed. Minho watched in dread and unease at all the couples around him engaged in extravagant acts of romance and subtle domesticity, dreaming of when, if ever, that would be you and him.

He was so distracted by the torrential current inside him that he hadn't noticed when Kyujin and Chan shifted their game to the kitchen island and you had sat down next him.

"Hi," you told him softly.

Minho blinked rapidly a the voice he would recognize anywhere, the one that beckoned him in his dreams and went silent in his nightmares. Behind you, Jisung and Seungmin were brazenly building a stacked tower of cookies which Minho knew would fall and create a mess unless prevented, but he chose to ignore it.

"Hey," replied Minho, turning around  to drink in your entire figure.

"I'm happy I've detached from romance, Minho," you informed him as your arm brushed his, "I don't think dating's for me and..."

Your voice trailed off and you turned to look at him, look into his eyes with an oddly melancholic smile that was contradictory to your earlier statement of happiness.

"I think I'm finally healing."

And under the Christmas lights with you in your Santa hat with the tip of your nose tinted pink from the cold, Minho had never loved and lost more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year three.

Christmas this year was filled to the brim with nagging from your end about why Minho refused to find a girlfriend despite your self-proclaimed temporary vow of celibacy. It was also the year that Minho realized the importance of the time he had with you.

"Come on Min," you groaned at Minho as he pulled up his sleeves and start kneading the cookie dough, "You'll love Sullyoon."

No, he wanted to say, I love you.

Instead, he responded with, "If I'm off with a girl, who'll make sure Jisung, Kyujin and Hyunjin don't end up burning down the apartment?"

You just laughed and made your way from behind the counter to the dining table, where Minho was busy at work. After he was done, you took the dough, neatly rolled and cut the cookies into shape and propped them in the oven. Minho was busy setting up a Christmas movie in the living room and you sat next to him, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder.

Minho would have tensed, if it weren't for how habitual he had become to these touches form you he was the recipient of after practically moving in with you.

Kyujin moved out of the apartment after she got a part time job at a dance institute about a half hour away from where you both lived. She needed the easy commute, and rent was not that difficult to pay for you due to your comfortable internship since sophomore year of college at a reputed tech company.

Minho, the only other person who was in the internship program with you, basically lived at your apartment. He had his own bed, clothes and even toothbrush at your apartment. He stayed nearly five nights in a row, going back to his actual apartment over the weekends to make sure that Jisung was alive and feeding himself more than just chicken breast.

This new development caused Minho to think that maybe, just maybe you harbored feelings for him the way he did for you. The two of you basically functioned like a live-in couple, so much so that your neighbors would mistake Minho for your boyfriend more often than not.

That's why Minho couldn't understand why you were so insistent about him meeting Sullyoon.

The party started soon after. Seungmin begrudgingly wore a Santa hat on his head and Jeongin clicked a picture of him at every possible occasion. Hyunjin and Chan introduced their girlfriends and everybody positively loved Karina and Lisa. Jisung gushed to everyone about the current guy he liked, Yeonjun, and Changbin informed his friends that on New Years, he planned to propose.

In the midst of it all sat Minho and you, arms looped around each other, both feeling love of different magnitudes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were dragging Minho to meet Sullyoon, evidently sitting in your room, despite his protests. You were wearing a long, billowy dress with a checkered pattern of red and white boxes that Minho teased made you look like a picnic blanket. But the truth was he loved it, he loved you and he did not love being taken to meet another woman by the one he was in love with.

"Have fun!" you grinned and shut the door behind yourself, waltzing away with immense satisfaction.

Minho let out a defeated sigh and turned around to see the fabled Seol Yoon-A, affectionately called Sullyoon. He could tell why you were gushing over her. She wore a red dress with a small bow, had pretty doe eyes and was beautiful no doubt.

But nothing in Minho's head could compare to you.

"So," Sullyoon laughed sweetly, "She threatened you to be here too, huh?"

"Yep," responded Minho curtly and in defeat.

Sullyoon got up and made his way to him, arms snaking around his shoulder and for a terrifying moment, he didn't want her to stop. Not because he enjoyed it, but maybe because this would help him get over you, you who would never love him the way he loved you.

But then the scent of Sullyoon's vanilla perfume hit Minho and it was nothing like your fragrant lilac mist. It was nothing like you.

Minho gently moved Sullyoon's arms from they were and took a step back. Sullyoon raised an eyebrow and studied him. She then snorted and sat down on the bed again.

"Ah. So you are in love with her," she said matter-of-factly.

"I-what-," Minho stuttered, unable to figure out what to say to such a statement.

Sullyoon sighed and patted the space beside her. "It's obvious you know. All men are stupid." And under her breath she added, "Thank god I also like girls. Much more mature."

Minho sat down, Sullyoon gave him a knowing look, and he told her everything. He told her about how he met you, how he realized he loved you and how he thought you might like him too. He told her about your favorite color, the way you always wore two extra rubber bands because one always seemed to break.

When he was done with it all, Sullyoon gave him a comforting pat and said, "You are in some deep shit, Minho."

"How would you know?" he scoffed.

Sullyoon shit eating grin turned sad, "Because I went through the same thing you did."

This time it was Minho's turn to survey Sullyoon, to try and understand what she went through that made her so intimately understand his situation.

"I was hopelessly in love with my best friend, but I didn't tell him for two years. When I finally did, I found out that even though he didn't completely feel the same, he was willing to give it a try. Loving him was the best year of my life. And he fell in love with me too. We were attached at the hip and I will never forgive myself for what happened."

Minho had a bad feeling that this story did not end happily. He swallowed a lump in his throat and asked, "What happened?"

Sullyoon had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "I held Felix as he died."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year four.

[5:23 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: so. today's the day, huh.

[5:24 PM]

You (Minho): today's the day.

[5:27 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: MY BROTHER IS NO LONGER BITCHLESS

sullyoonie-tunes: not insinutating that y/n is a bitch of course

sullyoonie-tunes: YOU'RE the bitch

sullyoonie-tunes: she's an angel

sullyoonie-tunes: pls dont kill me

[5:30 PM]

You (Minho): are you done???

"Hey, who are you texting?" you asked Minho, settling down next to him on his bed.

"Ah, Sullyoon," he responded.

You smiled at him, pulling his blanket over the two of you and weaving your fingers through his hair. "When did you two become so close?"

Minho snorted, "When I got her a girlfriend." And now she's getting me one, he left unsaid.

"Oh, I adore Haewon," you smiled, setting your head on Minho's shoulder.

Minho decided that if he was ever going to confess his feelings to you, it would be during Chrismas. You loved Christmas, he loved you, and what would be more perfect than that?

Over the course of the last year, you and Minho were offered permanent jobs at the company you were interning at. Minho had officially moved in with you, and had learned to live with the fact that he could only love you from a distance, completely unaware of the turmoil you felt about your feelings towards him.

Minho had also developed a strong friendship with Sullyoon, who he truly saw as a younger sister. He helped her meet Haewon, and she helped him dissect every move you made to glean information that would support Minho's hypothesis of you maybe liking him back.

Minho had expected his love for you to pass, to ebb and flow away with the changing seasons.

Instead, it blossomed into something he would forever live with. Minho was madly in love. To him, you weren't just a love.

To him, you hung to moon, stitched the stars onto the sky and gave the cosmos every diaphanous colour it glowed with.

The doorbell rang five times in rapid succession and Minho leapt off his bed. "He's mine," he laughed, watching you struggle to get out of the cocoon you had made for yourself in his blanket.

"Well he clearly loves me more," you retorted, catching up to Minho at the door who, ever the gentleman, opened for you.

Chaeyeon smiled at you and behind her was a beaming Changbin. In his hands he held two things. A large bag in one hand and a carrier in the other. You and Minho urgently ushered the two inside and Chaeyeon placed a gift on the kitchen counter.

"Meet Seo Sun-woo," said Changbin proudly, and you and Minho gushed over Changbin and Chaeyeon's two month old son.

Ever since Chaeyeon had announced she was pregnant after her and Changbin's wedding, a sense of reality dawned upon your entire friend group. You had to grow up, become mature and fend for yourself in this world. Gone were the days when you and Minho would party hop playing beer pong. Now, you both stayed up talking about your future and you hopes, dreams and aspiraitons.

You dreamt of making a name for yourself in the tech world, starting a company that would teach disabled kids coding and give them opportunities to work for gigantic tech companies. Minho dreamt of you and with that came the silent promise of adopting your dreams as his own.

"I want kids some day," you said as you held baby Seo in your lap. This year's party was quieter, much more secluded and only had your direct close circle of friends, "with Chris and Lisa expecting twins and even Hyunjin adopting a dog for Karina, it feels like everyone is growing their family."

Minho pouted. "Am I not growing your family?"

You laughed, "Minho, you've always been home."

Minho gave you quite possibly the widest smile until he heard a tin can fall to the ground and a set of four groans erupt from your bedroom. "Look, we're practically raising Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin."

You sighed in affectionate annoyance. "In between them and SonnieDoongieDori, I think that's enough family expansion for now."

Another crash came from your room and you both shared a knowing look. You either got the situation under control, or something broke.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"I feel dead," you moaned, falling onto the sofa after cleaning up well into the night. The party had ended with Lisa unceremoniously vomiting on the floor and everyone ushering her out and enquiring about her state of well-being.

"Let's go, I have one last present for you," Minho coaxed you out of your shell in the sofa, his own heart pounding incessantly.

"Just give it tomo-"

"I'll dump the litter box in your-"

"Fine," you groaned, "Ten minutes and then we start our Home Alone movie marathon."

Minho nodded, to anxious to argue, "Deal."

Both of you stepped out onto the balcony where the cold nipped at you. There were still couples strolling outside and children hurling snowballs at each other. Christmas lights covered virtually every apartment in sight, red and green lights glowing in tandem.

"What is it?" you asked, looking around him for maybe a box or a letter. Minho stood frozen in the anxiety of every way you could say no to him, until you nudged him back to reality.

Minho coughed. "It's not so much a thing and more of something I have to say."

"Oh."

Minho looked at the way your hair curled at the bottom, grazing the hem of your sweatpants. He looked at your jackets' cuffs, stained with chocolate when you both were lathering Nutella over a layer of cook. He looked at your face, full of beauty and kindness.

But mostly he looked at you, strong, gracious, and lover of Christmas.

Minho thought that confessing his love for you would be the hardest thing he's ever done. Instead, it came as naturally to him as snow falling on the streets of Seoul in winter.

"I love you," the confession fell from his lips. "I have loved you for four years and I will spend the rest of my life loving you if you'll let me. You understand me on a level that nobody else ever has. I love you Y/N, and I have never known anything else the way I have known that."

A song started in him that time, a scratchy beat of hopeful terror that started from his toes and came up to his heart.

"Plus, the cats won't accept anyone apart from you as their mother, and that includes Lix," he added for good measure.

You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and Minho felt his initial confidence wearing off. That was until you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Minho wrapped his arms around you, a sigh of relief escaping form his mouth.

"You don't know how long I've loved you for," you mumbled into his sweater.

And everything came to a beautiful crescendo when the nights Minho spent tossing and turning, the four years of assumed unrequited agony did not go in van because you loved him.

You loved him.

That night, Minho held you tightly in his arms underneath the blanket and was at a complete disregard of Kevin's plight in New York. He pressed kisses to every exposed surface he could find, your giggles louder than the shenanigans the character was playing on TV.

"This festival is my whole world," you told him with love brimming in his eyes.

Minho then finally told you three words that he believed summed up everything he felt towards you for the entire time he's ever known you.

"And you're mine."

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps @lina-linny @yrqrnc

@calypsohan @minluvly

also tagging @stayblrofficial for their christmas writing event!

[wren-of-the-woods]

Yes!! This! And I love that they have such dramatic names, too — the Oxygen Catastrophe is great, and the End-Permian Mass Extinctions is colloquially known as the Great Dying.

end permian mass extinction...at least we don't have to deal with "Lava sea the size of Saudi Arabia"

[theflashjaygarrick]

People have spent so much time fleshing out random background male characters and so for feminism I am going to give one of DC's under appreciated female characters this treatment . I am absolutely fascinated by Joan Garrick as a character. DC is not. But who am I to let that stop me.

So what are some things we know about Joan Garrick (née Williams). One is that she met Jay Garrick when they were both students at college. More potential context was given by Millar and Morrison in the iconic Jay focused Flash (vol 2) #134. Here we learn that at the present time she is teaching microbiology and based on the fact that in my experience a specific microbiology subject is more common in university and she's heading in for specific classes not the school day I can infer she is a lecturer/professor. These few facts paint a picture of an awesome and boundary breaking woman in her own right.

We can assume she was in college in the 1930s. This makes sense. After all the 30s was the first generation where (almost entirely white and middle class) women attended colleges in greater numbers and with more social acceptance then before. They became symbols of newfound female independence and education. But at the same time they faced a lot of obstacles , particularly in co-ed institutions like Midwestern University. She still had to navigate her way through a very male dominated institution that did not take her seriously if they wanted her to be there at all. Along with the change in female education came cultural backlash both within and outside the academy. Misogynistic (and racist) detractors viewed female higher education as frivolous, unsuitable for women's 'fragile physiology' and even saw it as the 'suicide' of the middle-class white American family. Yeah these people were the fucking worst. Anyway, being a female student at a university in that era meant dealing with and overcoming all kinds of bullshit from exclusion to outright harassment (even more than it does now).

And then there is the fact that she apparently studied biology (or microbiology more specially) in a time where most women pursued degrees in teaching or nursing (if they planned to use it vocationally) or liberal arts (if they did not). Women were actively discouraged from taking science courses and Joan would have been trying to enter an even more hostile boys club whilst fighting against even greater social pressure. But despite it all she seemingly did succeed and presumably help break barriers for women in science which is awesome.

And we can see this refusal to back down in her personality. Joan's kindness is matched by her tenacity and her 'do first, ask for permission later' personality, which whether forged through her experiences in academic or before-hand helped her persevere overcome the many obstacles she would have faced. She's an absolute badass.

Now this is not strictly relevant but she also knew Jay was the flash the whole time which is really sweet. I personally like to think she figured it out because he kept asking her really specific questions about human metabolism and the like (biology seemingly is Jay's scientific blindspot) and she put two and two together. Also he just innately trusts her with his secret which is cute considering how much secret identity drama silver age couples went through.

[nicestgirlonline]

dumb dumb

Pairing: Bucky x Dumbass!Reader

Warnings: none! lots of fluff ahead!!! 

Summary: Everyone can see the huge crush Bucky has on you...everyone except you of course.

Word Count: 3.7k and counting because I truly am incapable of being brief

A/N: This is for week one’s writer activity for  @the-slumberparty  the I Spy Challenge! I included all three of the items they shouldn’t be too hard to spot! I hope you enjoy it! Unbetaed, forgive me! Feedback is always appreciated :)

Update 2/17: You guys asked and now there's a Part 2

Typically it was Team Cap that were the first people awake in the Avengers Compound. Steve, Sam and Bucky were still on a soldier's schedule, usually getting up at 5 to work out before getting breakfast. 

So it was a bit of a surprise when they entered the kitchen to see the coffee was already brewed and you were helping yourself to a bowl of cornflakes. You were a Stark Industries biochemical engineer and judging  from your lopsided ponytail and your rumpled clothes, you had ended up sleeping in the lab. Again. Steve checked his watch, it was barely past 6. 

“Good morning! Another late night?” Steve asked.

“Morning Cap! Yeah, the thing about stomach acid is it's so fascinating I lost track of my time while studying it.” You cover your mouth to hide a yawn.  

“I think maybe only you think that.” Sam said, making you giggle a bit. Bucky entered the kitchen slightly later than the other two. His hair was damp and he had a towel wrapped around his neck, freshly showered. Steve definitely noticed that Bucky had started to insist on showering before breakfast right after the first time they discovered Y/N in the kitchen. 

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted, internally cringing at how loud you were. He was taken aback each time he saw her in the morning. The usually coordinated assassin bumped into the side of the breakfast bar with his hip and winced. 

“Morning.” he mumbled and gave a little wave before immediately heading to get some coffee, walking off the bump. Sam and Steve both glanced at each other. 

“You should kick Bucky’s ass, it’s his samples keeping you up at night,” Sam joked. You blushed and filled your mouth with more cornflakes. You’d specifically been studying well, all of Bucky? The effects of Dr. Erskine’s serum on his body mixed with the cryosleep and the other HYDRA experiments was a vast array of knowledge to tap into.

“It's not his fault I’m bad at time management. I really should stop doing this though. I'm sure my apartment misses me.” You say quickly as Bucky silently fixes himself breakfast. He pulls out the bagels and cream cheese with a bit more anger than usual. He sent Sam a glare but didn’t say anything. 

“Well if you’re here less, we’ll start missing you, won’t we Buck?” Steve asked. Both of them knew about Bucky’s soft spot for the scientist, too bad he didn’t seem like he was ever going to do anything about it. 

Bucky didn’t really answer, just sort of muttered something. You tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear trying to hide a blush.

“I'm sure Bucky won’t miss me. He’s gotten enough of me poking and prodding him.” You said hoping it came off as a light joke. While Bucky had been very willing to provide all of the samples you’d asked for, you secretly were starting to feel like you were no better than HYDRA in his eyes…

“And stealing my blood for science?” Bucky asked, his tone still grim. “‘S’not so bad when you do it.” He gave a small smile that he hid behind a sip of coffee. Steve remained quiet a moment, hoping either of you would make a move but both of you stayed blushing and looking in other directions. 

“Say, I was wondering to get your opinion on something. If there was a fella who was trying to get something nice for a lady friend, are flowers too old fashioned?”

“A lady friend? Steve, are you dating someone?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. But humor a hundred year old guy for a second here. If someone were trying to catch the eye of a modern woman such as yourself, would he have to buy you flowers, chocolates, diamond necklace?” He asked. You thought about it for a moment tapping your chin. 

“Gosh, not diamonds for me! I can’t wear any jewelry in the lab. I think flowers are nice! Everyone likes getting flowers sometimes. Maybe I should get some flowers for the whole lab, with Valentine's Day coming up and all.”  

Bucky smiled to himself. You were just the sweetest person he’d ever met. Always thinking about others. Steve of course caught the face and Bucky quickly turned away, trying to go back to neutral. It was such a stupid little crush, nothing more. 

x

You felt like your back might snap in half, that lab cot was really not optimal. You’d ended up staying in the lab past midnight and at that point it was easier to just crash than bother driving home.  You’d had to redo nearly all of your samples from yesterday, after your acid experiment melted nearly all the pipettes in the lab. You were probably going to have to get some more cheek swabs from Bucky too. 

You bit your lip. It was nice to have him in the lab so much. He didn’t talk a lot but he was always awfully sweet when he did. He also didn’t seem to mind your science babble. It was safe to say you’d developed a bit of a crush over the past few months. Too bad there was absolutely no way he felt the same way about you. He was a gorgeous Avengers for chrissake, he wasn’t going to date a dorky scientist who was studying the acid in his stomach. 

Speaking of the devil, when you got up to stretch a bit you were taken back by a face full of flowers, you leaped back in surprise. 

Bucky, wearing his sweatsuit like he had just gotten back from a run, was carrying a huge bouquet of pink and purple flowers. His face as usual was unreadable. You placed your hand on your now racing heart. 

“Bucky! I didn’t hear you come in!” You said as you regained your footing. 

“Uh sorry about that. Kind of a habit. Assassin.” He said with a shrug. The two of you stood in silence with the beautiful flowers separating you. Both of you  taking in the other. 

Can’t believe he looks so handsome while I’m sitting here looking like an absolute wreck

Can’t believe she looks so cute in the mornings while I’m in here looking like a creep. 

“These are beautiful!” You gesture to the flowers snapping the two of you back to reality. He half smiled and took a deep breath, ready for the little speech he'd prepared to go along with the ridiculous bouquet. 

“Yeah uh, I was just thinking about what you and Steve were talking about yesterday, with Valentine’s Day and all—“ He began. 

“It’s so nice that you got these for the lab!” You cried out taking them from his hands. Yesterday you had mentioned getting flowers for the whole lab, that must be what Bucky was referencing. 

“I…did. I did get these for the lab.” He said the smile now disappearing and back to his usual grumpy/ neutral expression. Some people found it a bit off putting but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“The techs are gonna flip, an avenger bringing us flowers! This is gonna brighten up the break room.” You squealed happily. It broke your heart a little, secretly hoping they had been for you. The gesture was really appreciated. Maybe he really didn’t mind all of your little experiments so much!

“I’m glad you like them.” He said. He sounded genuine but he looked so sad. You quirked your eyebrows, hoping that you’d be able to cheer him up if he stayed.  “Yeah so I’m gonna go now.” 

He quickly turned his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh you can stay—” You called after him but he was basically out the door. 

 “I’ve got to go on a run.” he called back.

“Oh.” you said to yourself as the door shut behind him. You clearly had been wrong, no way did Bucky like you at all. 

X

“Hey there I got a huge bunch of flowers for the lab. Because I think the lab is beautiful. And the lab is smart and funny. I really like talking to the lab even though I have no idea what the fuck to even say half the time.” 

“Talking to yourself again?” Steve asked, finally catching up with Bucky who had taken off at a mad man’s pace. 

“Eavesdropping again punk?”

“Flowers didn’t go over too well? I take it?”

“Not talking about it.” Bucky said picking up speed. Steve easily matched his pace, refusing to let his friend get away. 

“Maybe you should just ask her out. You used to be pretty good at that. Being charming.” Steve suggested. Bucky picked up speed again and Steve followed, the two of them now pushing hard. Nearly too hard for conversation. 

“Will you drop it?” Bucky grunted. There was no way she liked him. Why would she anyway? She was a beautiful, brilliant scientist and he was the grumpy old meanie avenger. 

“Just trying to help.” Now Steve was pissed, he pushed harder trying to pass his best friend. 

“Stay out of it.”  The two super soldiers ran on, lapping poor Sam a shameful amount of times. 

Used to be charming. Used to be? Bucky scoffed. He’d show them. He was present day charming. 

X

You really needed to work on your time management, you checked your watch and it was already 3 o clock and you hadn’t even had lunch yet. You were out of lab snacks too, so you decided to break for a quick lunch. 

You assumed you’d be in the kitchen on your own but entered to see Bucky with a cup of instant noodles. He was mid slurp when you waved hello. You went straight to the pantry to grab the basics for a PBJ. You could hear lots of coughing as you turned. 

“You’re not choking right? Do you need the heimlich?” You asked only half jokingly. You’d certainly do whatever you could to help him.

You turned back and Bucky was a bit red in the face but breathing normally again. 

“No. S’fine. Went down the wrong pipe.” He grumbled waving his hand as you went back to your sandwich.  

“Everyone loves the flowers. By the way, really made our week.” You took a seat across from him. Bucky straightened up a big and cleared his throat for the final time. 

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. You smiled back. 

There was a beat of silence. You looked down at your food, then back to Bucky only to discover he had done the same. You were looking into each other's eyes. 

“It was really so thoughtful.” You hoped you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt. 

“Well I was thinking of you when I saw them.” He said softly. Your heart soared. That was the sort of softness that you only heard from him in a few special moments. 

“Tony is having a screening of The Princess Bride. For Valentine's Day. As a treat to the company. Great movie, if you haven’t seen it.” You said very quickly. Not sure what was compelling you to tell him about it. It was one of your favorite movies and you were really excited to go to the screening until another scientist in your lab had asked you if you were bringing a date. It hadn’t occurred to you that the romance movie screening on Valentine's Day was going to be a mostly couples event. 

“I haven’t.” Bucky said. You were about to suggest he check it out when he continued “We should go. Together.” 

“Ok! Yeah! Yes we should go! Wow, that will be so much fun!” You could hardly believe it! Had your gambit worked? Subtly bringing up the movie with the hopes he’d come with you? 

“Uh cool, should I uh pick you up at the lab?” He seemed just as excited as you. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so smiley actually. 

“Yeah, I’ll have to bring my duffle bag so I have a change of clothes. I have this dress that looks like Buttercup’s — she’s a character in the movie. I should have more clothes here anyway. I hate my work clothes. And maybe a blanket too since the screening room is always so cold. We could bring snacks even though they’re usually provided. That might be overdoing it. ” You had started to ramble while Bucky rested his chin on his hand, contently listening. 

“You’re not planning on sleeping in the lab again are you?” He asked, concerned. 

“Well, I want to watch the movie and it's a bit silly to drive all the way home when I'm tired.” You said with a shrug. You really should stop sleeping at the lab so much, it seemed like you were starting to get a reputation. 

“Very true, you should not be driving while sleepy. But uh we could go to my place afterwards. It’s a much nicer commute. Probably a bit more comfortable than the lab.” He offered. 

“But Bucky, where would you sleep?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. The avengers apartments were nice but you were certain he didn’t have a guest bedroom. 

“I’ll take the floor. It’s actually not an issue.” 

“Bucky Barnes, I am not kicking you out of your own bed. No way. End of discussion.” You put your foot down. He let out a sigh looking up at the ceiling lights and then back to you. His whole demeanor changed 

“Well. I was trying to be a gentleman here but it is a pretty big bed. We probably could both fit. Since it seems like there are no other options. ”  He practically purred at you. You blinked, taken aback. You couldn’t remember a time where he had seemed more charming to you! But no, that couldn’t be right. Bucky Barnes was not actually offering to cuddle up with you on Valentine’s Day. This was you misreading the situation with him as usual. 

“Oh. You mean that as friends right?” You asked. Bucky looked pained and sucked his teeth for a moment. 

“Totally. As friends.”

X

“So let me get this straight. You are going to be going to see the romance movie The Princess Bride together. On Valentines day. As friends. Then you are going back to his apartment. Where you’ve planned on sharing his bed. As friends.”Nat asked.  You sat across from Nat on the long L shaped couch in the TV room. You were a little surprised with how well you had ended up getting along with all the Avengers since you got hired for the lab. Nat and Bucky especially were famously unfriendly to newbies and yet, you seemed to click with them faster than anyone. 

“Exactly. What's so hard to get about that?” You gave a shrug and sipped some more of your afternoon coffee.  She let out a groan and massaged her temples. 

“Are you dumb? Like has this whole brilliant scientist thing been like an Elizabeth Holmes scam? Geez Einstein, Bucky is head over heels for you and you spend all of your time thinking about smooching his stupid grumpy little face!” She cried and you winced. You only thought about smooching sometimes.

“His face isn’t stupid.” You muttered and Natasha rolled her eyes so hard you feared they may get stuck. “And he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Why would he ask you out to a movie? Then offer his place afterwards, if not because he’s totally into you!” 

“I asked him if he meant as friends then he said yes he meant as friends.” You cried back. She let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Honestly at this point, I think I may have to hang up my wing woman hat. Can’t get you a date, can’t get Steve a date, I’ve lost my touch.”  She groaned. 

“Doesn’t Steve have someone he’s seeing?” You asked. 

“Uh absolutely not. No way he could keep that from me. Unless you have some intel I don’t know about.”

“He was asking me all these questions a few weeks ago. About getting a girl flowers to show you’re interested in her.” You explained. Why would he bring that up if not for the girl he’s dating? She nodded along knowingly. 

“Quick question, was Bucky also there by chance?” She asked, her wry smirk returning to her face. 

“Yeah he was…how did you know that?”

“And was this before or after Bucky showed up with flowers for ‘the lab’ ?” She asked using finger quotes around the lab. The gears in your head usually reserved for science and math started to turn. “Please, I’m begging you. Use that big powerful brain that’s supposedly between your ears.” 

You trusted Nat, she was much better at reading people than you were. Could she be right? You hoped she was right. 

X

You had changed into your flowy blue dress, you had always thought it looked a bit like Princess Buttercup's wedding dress with its long sleeves and high cinched waist. You took your hair out of its usual ponytail and let it tumble down your shoulders. This was a date. You told yourself. This was a date, Bucky was taking you out on a date. 

It didn’t seem real. How could it be? You had crushes all the time but they never actually liked you back, that just wasn’t how life worked out. But Natasha could read people like no one you’d ever known before. Could she be wrong?

Bucky showed up at the lab door, lightly knocking on the door frame as he let himself in. He was wearing a black dress shirt with black dress pants. The black on black was his usual MO but god did he look so handsome in it. He had stayed his hair a bit too, you could see the gel he had combed in to keep it neat. 

“Hey are you ready for the mo-” you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. The two of you stayed frozen for a minute neither sure what to do. 

He pulled you away looking confused. Oh fuck I just sexually harrassed an avenger oh god I’m fired, I’m dead, Bucky is never going to speak to me again!

“What are you doing?” He whispered, his hands on your shoulders keeping you at a distance. 

“I’m so sorry! God I knew Nat was wrong, I’m sorry I’m sorry, I just thought that maybe…god I’m so dumb.” You started to blubber, humiliated. You wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Hey, hey slow down. Now I’m really mixed up here, you said we should go as friends and now you’re kissing me. Can you just tell me what’s going on?” He asked, his voice very measured, his face unreadable. 

You took a deep breath. 

“I like you. I like you a lot. And I always thought that…there’s no way you liked me back. I wished the flowers you brought to the lab were for me but of course they weren’t and I hoped we were going to the movie as a date but of course we aren’t. Nat said she thought you liked me back but I should have never listened to her. I’m sorry.” You covered your face and turned away. You couldn't believe you’d messed this up so bad. 

“You keep apologizing but I’m not exactly complaining here.”  He said his voice low. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to let you know, but every time I tried  it didn’t seem like you were interested in me!” He cried out. You just blinked at him, dumbfounded. 

“Why would you be into me, you're like the savior of the galaxy and I’m a nerd who practically lives in her lab.”

“Why would you be into me, you're a beautiful brilliant scientist  and I'm just some grumpy dope that’s also a  pardoned war criminal?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again. Bye god this was the second time you kissed Bucky today! Only this time when your lips met he eagerly returned the kiss. His soft lips moving feverishly against yours. His hands went to your hips and you tried not to let out a gasp as he pulled you flush against his body.  

“Wait, wait, are we going to miss the movie?” He asked you with such genuine sincerity you wanted to scream. How was he so cute?

“We can catch it another time.”

X

The two of you, barely able to keep yourself off each other, somehow managed to get in an elevator, go up all the way to Bucky's floor and get into his apartment. All while still remaining lip locked in a daze. 

He was kissing you silly, you almost felt drunk. With a bit of a flourish he tossed you on to the bed (which was quite big, easily room for the two of you like he had said). 

“Uh Bucky, what are these for?” You held up the leather cuffs that were chained across the back of the bed. He frowned, suddenly panicking. 

“I was going to move those, I’m sorry you had to see that. I just, I get nightmares sometimes and it um, it helps to chain myself to the bed so I don't um hurt myself. I’m on meds now and I never need to use them anymore.” He was rambling, quickly trying to sooth the situation. 

“Oh.”

“Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I know I’m a whole lot of baggage on top of baggage. I really am totally fine sleeping on the floor if that makes you feel safer or--”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re the smartest woman I know. ” He insisted. He sat back down on the bed. He took you in his arms. You pecked him lightly on his lips.

“I just…I thought maybe these were going to be for me.” You fluttered your eyelashes as

Bucky's eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat.

“They can be. They absolutely can be.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

So could you do a Star Trek one with Spock (or whoever you write for as I can’t find that post now😭) with an SO who is visiting home on earth and keeps on bringing him interesting rocks she finds?

Stones and Stars

word count: 940

Pairing: Spock x human!reader

Summary: Y/n visits her home on Earth with Spock, enthusiastically collecting interesting rocks and sharing them with him, while Spock patiently admires her fascination and offers scientific insights, deepening their bond.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n stood on the quiet shore of her family’s lake house on Earth, her bare feet sinking into the soft sand. The sun was setting, casting a warm, amber glow over the still waters, and the air carried the scent of pine trees from the nearby forest. It was a moment of peace, of home, far away from the busy corridors of the Enterprise.

Behind her, Spock stood observing the surroundings, his hands clasped behind his back. He had agreed to accompany Y/n on her visit to Earth, a rare chance for her to reconnect with her roots and for him to experience the human world outside of Starfleet’s structured environment.

Y/n bent down, running her fingers over a small, smooth stone nestled in the sand. She smiled, picking it up and turning it over in her palm. Its surface was streaked with tiny veins of quartz, glimmering faintly in the fading light. She approached Spock, holding it up for him to see.

“Look at this one, Spock,” she said, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, taking the stone from her hand with the precision of a scientist inspecting a specimen. “Indeed,” he remarked, turning it over slowly. “The mineral composition appears to contain a significant amount of quartz, likely formed by years of pressure beneath the Earth’s surface.”

Y/n chuckled softly. “You always know how to make things sound so... scientific.” She watched him closely, enjoying the subtle curiosity that flickered in his dark eyes as he studied the rock. It was a small thing, but seeing Spock’s fascination with something as simple as a stone warmed her heart.

After a moment, Spock handed the rock back to her, inclining his head. “It is an interesting specimen. However, I do not believe it holds particular significance beyond its geological properties.”

Y/n laughed again, more at the formality of his response than the words themselves. “It’s not about the science, Spock. It’s about the beauty of it. Sometimes, things are worth appreciating just because they’re nice to look at.”

Spock’s expression softened, a subtle shift that only Y/n had learned to recognize after all their time together. “I see,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “You derive pleasure from observing the aesthetics of natural formations.”

“Exactly.” She beamed, slipping the stone into her pocket. “It’s a little piece of home.”

They continued walking along the shoreline, Y/n occasionally stopping to inspect another rock or shell. She collected a small handful of them, showing each one to Spock with the same enthusiasm as the first. Though he did not share her penchant for collecting seemingly random objects, he never dismissed her excitement, responding to each discovery with patient interest.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Y/n bent down again, this time retrieving a larger, rougher stone. Its surface was jagged, unlike the smooth pebbles from the beach, and it seemed to carry the weight of ancient time within its weathered surface.

“This one feels different,” she murmured, brushing off the dirt. “It’s heavier… older, maybe?”

Spock took the stone from her, his long fingers tracing the irregular contours. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, and for a moment, he said nothing.

“You are correct,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “This rock likely originates from deeper beneath the Earth’s surface, perhaps pushed upward by tectonic activity.”

Y/n leaned in closer, intrigued. “Do you think it’s volcanic?”

Spock’s lips quirked, the closest he ever came to a smile. “It is possible. The rough texture suggests it may have been exposed to intense heat.”

Y/n couldn’t help but marvel at the way Spock could transform an ordinary rock into something extraordinary with his explanations. She rested her head against his shoulder, content in the silence that followed.

“You know,” she began softly, “I used to collect rocks like these when I was a kid. I’d bring them back to my room and pretend they were treasures from some distant planet.”

Spock turned his head slightly to look at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Your fascination with these objects seems to persist.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia. Or maybe it’s because now, with you, it feels like I really am collecting treasures from other worlds.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, his expression softening further. “An intriguing perspective.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet of the forest around them, the distant sound of water lapping at the shore. Y/n reached for Spock’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she whispered. “It’s nice to share this part of my world with you.”

Spock squeezed her hand gently. “I find it… agreeable to observe Earth through your eyes, Y/n.”

She laughed softly, knowing that was as close to romantic as Spock would get. And that was more than enough for her.

As they walked back toward the house, the last light of day fading into twilight, Y/n tucked another rock into her pocket. This one was small and round, polished smooth by the water, and it sparkled faintly in the moonlight.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” she said, holding it up for Spock to see. “A souvenir of today.”

Spock tilted his head, his dark eyes reflecting the silver of the moon. “You seem to have acquired quite the collection.”

Y/n grinned. “I’m just getting started.”

And as they walked hand in hand beneath the stars, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that every rock, every moment, was a little treasure they shared in their own universe, one that Spock, in his own unique way, understood perfectly.

[i-like-blue-eyed-robots]

Wheatley has ADHD

It’s a common enough occurrence that it probably deserves its own trope — aliens, robots and any other nonhuman character almost always end up with autistic traits. It’s because writers take a nonhuman character and go ‘well, how do I make this character register as nonhuman, but still human enough that audiences will like them?’ And the answer is making them neurodivergent. I’m not personally inclined to say that this is a good or a bad thing, though I can see how it might be taken that way.

However, some authors like myself do it intentionally, to demonstrate how neurodivergent people can end up ostracized.

Some examples of common traits that are autistic-coded and writers give to nonhuman characters are as follows:

-difficulty understanding metaphor, sarcasm or exaggeration

-overly blunt in communication

-unawareness of others emotions/incorrect reaction to said emotions

-difficulty realizing their own emotions

-need for a strict schedule in order to be happy

Of course, there’s more out there, but I’ve seen these pop up quite a lot.

However, the Portal series’ fantastic writing team did not follow these stereotypes with their robots, and that’s what I would like to cover today.

I would go over GLaDOS in relation to this idea, like she clearly understands sarcasm, but she doesn’t quite fit for reasons that would be obvious to anyone who’s played through Portal 2. I’m here to talk about Wheatley, the other main robot we get to know in Portal 2.

Wheatley is not autistic coded. He has no problem speaking to strangers or making eye contact. He enjoys sarcasm almost as much as GLaDOs, and so on and so forth.

However, Wheatley is most definitely neurodivergent-coded, and it’s fascinating because for once, maybe for the only time ever in popular media that I’ve ever noticed, a robot is adhd-coded instead of being autistic-coded.

What do I mean by that? First of all, if you haven’t finished Portal 2 go do it now. It’s relatively cheap on Steam and it’s amazing. Moving on — it all stems from what we’re told Wheatley is, during the betrayal scene with GLaDOS. Now to preface this, GLaDOS is a liar. You can take most of what she says with a grain of salt. But, what she says is all we have officially to go off of.

To add further context to this line, the personality cores or “Aperture Science Personality Constructs” (the line of robots that Wheatley is a part of) were specifically built in order to be plugged into GLaDOS’ systems to slow her down and to keep her from killing everyone in Aperture. In the first Portal game, Chell, the player character, incinerates the four ‘successful’ cores that supposedly were the last ones needed to stop GLaDOS. However, given that the character has to travel through an empty facility to do so, it’s clear that they weren’t nearly as successful as the engineers had thought. Later, as core after core was built and none of them worked to stop GLaDOS, Aperture was needing robot maintenance of some kind since all of their human faculty were being killed, fired due to financial ruin, and/or quitting, and so the personality constructs were repurposed to try and keep the facility from falling apart.

Aside from GlaDOS and Wheatley, we don’t see any “non-corrupted” cores. And even both of them are corrupted, with GLaDOS being 80% corrupted and Wheatley assumedly 25%, after doing some quick math of the boss fight. This would normally affect my ability for confident analysis, but luckily in this case I don’t need them to prove that good ol Wheatley is adhd-coded.

Because right from the get-go, “generating an endless stream of terrible ideas” sounds pretty damn adhd to me, as someone who has both inattentive and hyperactive adhd myself. Now, that’s not to say every idea a person with adhd has is a bad one. That’s not even the case with Wheatley, despite it being what we’re told, because again, GLaDOS is an unreliable narrator. It’s Wheatley’s ideas that keep her from killing Chell with turrets or neurotoxin. He’s the one who gets Chell to dismantle those systems. Those are clearly not bad ideas.

But what about other adhd traits? Having an endless stream of ideas isn’t even on a symptom list of being adhd, it’s usually just a side effect of everything else going on. Well, Wheatley has plenty of them.

Hyperactive-type adhd symptoms include but are not limited to;

-fidgeting

-excessive physical movement

-excessive talking

-impulsive behavior

-restlessness/impatience

Oh but how can a robot ball fidget or have excessive physical movement, you may ask. Well. This is the most expressive ball I have ever seen in my life. Wheatley is constantly moving, shifting panels, popping his eye out, spinning in his casing and so forth. The excessive talking one is easy, my younger brother (also an adhd yapper, who has no room to talk) was trying to throw Wheatley over the railing into the bottomless pit beneath Aperture “because he was yapping” too much. This is unusual for a robot character (outside of the Portal series) whereas they tend to speak when spoken to. Wheatley is generally impulsive, but this is especially noticeable when he’s hooked up to the facility in the GLaDOS chassis. After PotatOS calls him a moron, he proceeds to punch her and Chell into the abyss below without thinking about it, reacting out of anger until he realizes they’re about to drop, right before they do. Interestingly, that sort of impulsive rage reaction is more often seen in monster characters, like perhaps a werewolf situation. It sort of adds to the framing that now Wheatley is in control of the facility, he has become something monstrous. Now, judging his patience level accurately is difficult, given that in the beginning he’s in a high-stress, deadly situation and later, when he’s in the chassis, he’s being affected by symptoms of drug withdrawal. However, he is impatient, such as when he’s playing the recorded sound of knocking on a door at the beginning. Granted, he’ll go on ‘knocking’ forever because it’s necessary for the story, but he speaks up every couple of minutes asking if you/Chell are going to open the door already. Again, this is unique for a robot character, as they tend to wait on a player or another character’s actions before responding to it, rather than initiating.

Impressively, these are not all the symptoms Wheatley demonstrates. There is another form of adhd, known as Inattentive-type adhd. The symptoms can include the following;

-Short attention span

-Overlooking details

-Careless mistakes

-Inability to stick to tedious tasks

-Difficulty organizing tasks

-Constantly changing tasks

-Difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions

For having a short attention span, this is again, difficult to determine for Wheatley in a normal setting. In the beginning he’s mostly able to focus, but he’s in a life-or-death scenario. However, he does ramble on about things that have no relevance to what he and the player character are doing, such as when he’s telling the player character about the many jobs he’s had around Aperture and been subsequently released from. He definitely has issues overlooking details, such as when he and Chell are supposed to be dismantling the neurotoxin facilities. While he’s busy ‘hacking’ a computer that may or may not even regulate the facility in the first place, Chell dismantles the generator and he doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first, because he’s distracted listing off the hardware of the computer. As for careless mistakes, again, this could be simply the situation he’s in, but he definitely makes them. Like when he’s transporting the relaxation chamber in the first chapter, he runs into an unbelievable amount of other relaxation chambers, tearing Chell’s apart. Or even when he’s supposed to be guiding her around Aperture but he dips into wrong corners and has to recorrect. He most visibly has difficulty with tedious tasks when he’s in the chassis, as the facility is literally falling apart because he didn’t bother reading the manual or taking care of the massive amount of upkeep the facility requires. But again, he’s suffering symptoms of drug withdrawal as well that could be affecting his ability to do that. However, given his descriptions of his job loss, mentioned above, we can gather that this is likely an issue he had before ever being a part of the core transfer. This also is in line with difficulty organizing tasks. As for constantly changing tasks, again, he has somewhat better focus in the beginning because if he doesn’t he’ll die, and later he’s exceptionally distracted by a need to test. But even when he should be consumed with the need to test, and he does watch Chell for most of it, he does stop watching randomly at times to do… Who knows what. When it should be the only thing he can focus on. As for difficulty listening to and carrying out instructions, again, the facility falls apart and Wheatley kept being fired for similar, if not the same reasons.

So. That covers basic symptoms and how Wheatley fits pretty much all of them. But, a lesser known side effect of adhd is that it can easily lead to the development of other neurodivergent disorders such as anxiety and depression. Adhd is also linked to something known as emotional dysregulation. Wheatley clearly exhibits signs of anxiety. He’s terrified of dying, and says as much at several points. Not only is he especially scared of dying, but he’s scared of judgment, too. He’s constantly trying to seem more important or smarter than he is, and even though Chell is a silent protagonist, when he takes over the facility before being affected by the testing withdrawals, he assumes she’s been secretly plotting against him the entire time. Depression is more difficult to spot in Wheatley, as he’s not lethargic, but, again, a high-stakes situation can allow a person to mask their symptoms for a brief period out of self-preservation.

However, I do want to point out he clearly displays emotional dysregulation, and not in the way one might expect from a robot character. Wheatley is exceptionally sensitive to criticism. When GLaDOS begins her spiel about him being an intelligence dampening sphere, he moves as far away he can from her, turning his back so he doesn’t have to look at her. He even goes so far as to say “Not listening!” while she’s saying it. Then when she calls him a moron, he reacts violently, in a way he hadn’t so far in the game before that moment. He smashes her through the glass of the elevator and then, when she proceeds to call him a moron again, is when he smashes PotatOS and Chell into the pit. However, he doesn’t even need to even be actively insulted to react to perceived insults as just as much of a threat to his psyche. As mentioned earlier, despite Chell being a silent protagonist, and in some ways because Chell is a silent protagonist, Wheatley assumes that she’s been plotting against him from the start. Her perceived attacks against him are most especially notable during the boss fight. He points out that she’s always quiet, assuming that she’s “silently judging” him. He points out that she didn’t catch him when he fell off of his management rail in the beginning, and that she didn’t warn him that she was the one who killed GLaDOS.

All in all, Wheatley is a beautifully three-dimensional character, not in spite of being a robot, but rather, in some ways, because of it.

[forcedagere]

I personally really like the idea of Bill x Reader x Ford. This one kinda ties into my previous post, but it’s not required reading. I suppose this would be an AU where Ford accepted Bill’s offer during Weirdmaggedon, or something else went wrong resulting in Bill staying in power :)

Contents: forced age regression, yandere, implied mental manipulation

Whereas Bill is far from the best caretaker (though he tries, in his own way), Ford takes care to create a semblance of structure in your life. He doesn’t have tons of practical experience with children or little ones such as you, but he makes up for it with dedication. He takes to caring for you as if it were a newly discovered, fascinating field of study. In other words… He reads many, many books, and tries all kinds of things to figure out what you like best.

Ford is not entirely fond of the kind of dynamic you have with Bill. It's not because he doesn't want to be referred to with parental terms, that's simply a matter of preference, but that he insists on you being friends above anything else. Considering the dynamics at play here, Ford cannot help but view it…

"As simply pedagogically irresponsible, Bill." The triangle in question rolls his eye. "Oh, boohoo! Fancy McFancypants over here knows what’s up!” Bill glances at you from the corner of his eye. Seeing you crack a smile while you’re sketching away with your crayons, he’s encouraged. “You read one book on how to raise a kid, and now you wanna tell me what to do? Get lost. Kid, c'mon, prove him wrong-- I'm your favourite, right?" You look up from your latest piece of art. You are drawing all three of you, in fact. You're usually deaf to their arguments, it's such a constant that you've grown used to the noise and stopped viewing it as a threat. (Your daddy calls it 'bickering'; Billy, when daddy isn't listening, calls it 'flirting'. That makes you giggle.) But you don't like getting involved in it yourself! So you firmly shake your head, and drop the pacifier attached to your necklace to speak. "No favourites… I love you both," you say with the confidence only someone as little as you could have. Billy's eyelid flutters, and your daddy smiles.

To put it simply, Bill is the ‘fun, rule-breaking parent’ and Ford is… A little less that. One should not take Bill Cipher as the benchmark of taking good care of a human, though.

Ford will make sure your meals are more varied than the endless stream of candy that Bill feeds you, and get you tucked in for sleep at regular times, too. Compared to Bill, who enjoys playing games with you and ‘roughhousing’, Ford prefers calmer activities. He’s definitely up for the occasional board game, but, most of the time, he’ll read to you, make drawings upon requests (or give you lessons!), or toy around with science experiments safe for someone who gets the urge to put anything that looks interesting inside their mouth.

He might’ve taken you for an adventure or two outside, but… The world hasn’t been the same since Bill got his hands all over it. He may be technically immortal now. You decidedly are not, as far as he knows. Either way, he doubts that Bill would let you out of this room to begin with. He doesn’t have to ask to be able to know that. If there is any reason he would keep someone locked up the way he does with you, it must be because you have some form of special connection to him. Ford does not believe he would risk that.

Really, Ford isn’t stupid or blind. It’s not that he’s going along with all of this because he is ignorant of Bill’s manipulation of your mental state. Bill can call it a ‘nudge in the right direction’ all he wants. He’s keeping you regressed. But everything has changed. He has changed, and Ford doesn’t know if he made the right decision. He fears he hasn’t. (Somewhere out there, in an alternate universe, a Stanford must live who made a difference decision. Ford hopes he’s happy.)

Spending time in this little contained room, with something dependent on him and eager to be looked after by him, who doesn’t know better and never will… It’s not good, it’s the very definition of selfish, but it’s comforting to him. Grounding, in a sense. With an eternity of time left ahead of him and the foundations of his previous life all but crumbled, he has something steady to return to. It doesn’t matter how much he rationalizes it. It’s twisted and fucked up, plain and simple.

…He supposes he can understand why Bill finds him so amusing, even now.

A little whimper snaps him from the spiral of his thoughts. Your bottle is empty. He should get youa refill, then pull you back on his lap.

[son1c]

hi, this is something i wrote for my sonic x dunmeshi crossover. in my mind i've been calling it SATBK 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO because i think it's funny. thanks and enjoy 💜

Sonic the Hedgehog was having a good day. In fact, it was a great day! The sun was shining and there were no ugly robots in sight. He was also hanging out with his best buddy, Tails the Fox. Tails was telling him about some new techno-thingamajig that he'd invented, and Sonic was bobbing his head along, listening but not really understanding as Tails rambled on and on about slicers or splicers or splinters.

"...But that's not even the best part!" Tails was saying now. "With just the press of a button, this device should be able to undo the damage caused by..."

Suddenly, Sonic's ear twitched. He was still listening to Tails' spiel, but now he was distracted.

Tails noticed Sonic's lack of attention and turned pink with embarrassment. "A-And that's pretty much it!" he said in a rush, hoping he hadn't lost Sonic to whatever white rabbit had caught his fascination this time.

Unfortunately for Tails, Sonic's quills were tense. "Something's up," he said cryptically as he scanned the horizon. But even with a hand placed across his brow and a strategic lean forward, he couldn't make out any rotten eggs in the distance; the only things he could see were grass, trees, and other people's houses.

Still, Sonic's eyes narrowed.

Tails stuffed his new invention into his backpack and hurried to Sonic's side. He thought about all of the things he could do to help--Maybe he could run inside and grab a pair of binoculars from his workshop?--but just when he opened his mouth to suggest something, Sonic snatched him up and held him over his head.

"Woah!" Tails said in surprise, his eyes huge.

"Check it out!" Sonic said, gesturing with his foot at the place where Tails had just been standing.

Tails looked, and saw a small... Well, he wasn't really sure what it was, exactly. It was round, so bright it was glowing, and growing larger every second. Not only that, but when Sonic took a step back, it seemed to move and chase after him, too!

With Sonic still holding onto him, Tails began to spin his namesakes so the two of them could lift off and escape the strange glowing circle. At first, that seemed to do the trick, but then the thing peeled itself off the ground and rose up into the air. Yikes!

"Hang on, Sonic!" Tails said as he flew up higher. But no matter how high he climbed, the mysterious circle followed them. "I think it's a portal!"

"That's no good," Sonic said, not sounding particularly worried. If anything, he sounded a little excited.

Typical.

Then, the portal swallowed them up, leaving Tails' backyard empty. It spat them out in an unfamiliar place--at least, it was unfamiliar to Tails. The dirt path they landed on was well worn, the sky was painted a dazzling blue, and the forest to their left was lush with life. In front of them was a lake with water so clear and still it could be mistaken for a mirror. Tails took a closer look and couldn't help but think that if he wasn't a boy of science, he might say the place had an almost magical feel to it.

Sonic rubbed his nose. "Y'know," he said, "I'm not usually one for return trips. What gives?"

Tails reluctantly tore his gaze away from the water so he could look back at Sonic. "You recognize this place, Sonic?"

Sonic stopped rubbing his nose. "Yeah, there's no doubt about it." He put his hands on his hips and then took a slow, sweeping look around. "This is the same place from the storybook!"

If this was an anime, Tails probably would've turned monochrome as a glass breaking sound effect played in the background. Unfortunately, it's just a fanfiction, so that can't happen. But the sentiment remained the same: Tails was shocked.

Sonic shrugged. "I guess someone wrote a sequel," he said, like that was normal. Then, his expression turned sly as he side-eyed Tails. "Unless you think we're both dreaming this time?"

Before Tails could reply, someone walked out of the forest. They were riding a black horse and their face was covered by a dark hood, casting their face in shadow. However, not even their cloak could hide the shining armor they wore, as it twinkled brilliantly when they stepped out into the sunlight.

When the stranger spotted Sonic and Tails, they pulled on the horse's reins and stopped dead in their tracks.

This made Sonic quirk an eyebrow.

Tails asked, "Is that a friend of yours?"

The stranger removed their hood and revealed their face. Or, what could be seen of it through the helmet they wore. The intricately engraved metal was accented with red, which matched the stripes on his quills. Then, the dark hedgehog pushed up his visor so he could get a better look at Sonic and Tails.

In a quiet, disbelieving voice, the stranger asked, "My king?"

"You haven't changed a bit, huh?" Sonic chuckled. "Still dramatic as ever!" With a shake of his head, Sonic's mouth quirked up in a grin. "Hey, Lancelot. Long time no see."

Lancelot quickly got down from his horse so he could kneel to Sonic. Sonic, of course, just waved his hand dismissively. "Let's skip all that royal stuff, okay?" Sonic said, acutely aware of Tails' huge, disbelieving stare as it flicked between him and the knight. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Lancelot looked up and was dazzled by Sonic's grin. The blue hedgehog then motioned to Tails, his hands practically radiating sparkles as he showed off the small fox. "This is Tails. My little bro. Whatever world-ending problem brought me here this time, he'll be sure to help us fix it!"

While Lancelot processed this information, Tails barely stopped himself from spouting off a million questions. The first and most pressing of which was: Why does this guy look exactly like Shadow the Hedgehog?

Sonic offered his hand to Lancelot. Tails watched as Lancelot froze in place, but he didn't smack Sonic's hand away like Shadow would've. In fact, he seemed almost flustered at the friendly offer. He pulled his visor down to cover his expression before eventually accepting Sonic's hand and pulling himself up onto his feet. Maybe he thought it would've been rude to refuse? After all, he did refer to Sonic as his "king"...

Tails' head was spinning. He felt like he was going to burst with all his unanswered questions, so he finally voiced one. "Since when are you a king?"

Sonic grimaced. Tails pretended not to notice when Lancelot bristled at the question. Instead, he stubbornly kept his eyes locked on Sonic so the hedgehog couldn't run away from his question.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sonic said, "Since I caught that cold a few months back? I dunno, dude. To be honest, I kinda thought..." 

None of it was real.

Sonic trailed off as his eyes drifted over to Lancelot. Then, he cleared his throat. "What's it matter, anyway? We're here now! There's gotta be a reason. Isn't that more important?"

Tails frowned. It was clear that Sonic was uncomfortable, if his anxious foot tapping was any indication. Tails knew his big bro hated the limelight, so it made sense that he'd hate being someone as important as the king. But that still didn't answer his question: how did this even happen?

Thinking back, Tails could indeed remember when Sonic had caught that cold. It was hard to forget, since he'd gone through approximately twenty boxes of tissues in the span of about a week. But... "Amy said you just made all that up."

Sonic rolled his eyes. "Does this look made up to you?"

Tails looked around at the very real-looking fantasy land they'd found themselves in, and he had to admit that it didn't.

"Great," Sonic said. "Now that that's outta the way..." He turned back toward Lancelot. "Any dragons in need of slaying? Or not-so-evil wizards who need a talking-to?"

Lancelot shook his head. "I'm afraid not, King Sonic. Your appearance is--"

"Just Sonic."

Lancelot stiffened. Sonic looked at him expectantly. Like he was waiting for the knight to challenge him, like Shadow would've back in their own world. Tails almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, but thought better of it.

"...You've earned my respect, my king. I cannot simply refuse you your title."

Sonic's eyes twinkled. "Oh, yeah? Then how 'bout I cut you a deal?"

Lancelot was wary, but he waited for Sonic to explain.

Sonic jerked his thumb at the forest. Tails realized he was pointing at the treetops--no, at what was beyond them. Barely visible, the top of a grand castle could be seen peeking out from the distance.

"Let's race. If you win, you can call me your king. But if I win, you drop it. Sound good?"

Under the visor, Lancelot's eyes hardened. "I won't lose."

"I'm countin' on it," Sonic replied easily, but there was an undercurrent of excitement running through his words. Then, he turned to Tails. "You take care of the horse, okay, pal? We'll meet you there!"

Before Tails could object, the two hedgehogs were off. In their wake, they left a cloud of dust, and Tails sighed a long-suffering-but-fond sigh. No matter where they were, Sonic would always be Sonic, he supposed.

Taking the reins of Lancelot's horse, Tails began to head toward the distant castle. However, when he was about halfway through the forest, he stopped. The fur on the back of his neck stood up. Looking around, he couldn't see much amongst the thick foliage--just a mass of homogenous green.

Tails forced himself to relax and keep walking. Maybe a little faster than before.

Eventually, Tails made it to the front steps of the castle. It was even bigger up close; the massive structure towered over him, its tall stone spires piercing the sky. Lavish tapestries fluttered from the windows and golden ornaments glinted in the light of the setting sun. It even had a moat!

Lancelot stood proudly in front of the grand doors, his smile visible even with the visor shadowing his face. Sonic rolled his eyes as he stood next to him, but he was smiling too.

"I would've won if that frog hadn't been there," Sonic said.

"Of course, King Sonic," Lancelot replied, emphasizing Sonic's title a little more than necessary.

"C'mon, dude," Sonic said, exasperated, "you saw it! It was in trouble. If I hadn't jumped in, something bad would've happened!"

Lancelot nodded. "Yes, my king," he said again. "Helping the frog was much more important than claiming victory."

Sonic groaned.

Tails cleared his throat.

Sonic perked up immediately. "Buddy! You made it."

Taking the steps two at a time, Sonic joined Tails at the foot of the stairs. Lancelot joined him shortly afterward and gratefully took his horse from him. "My sincerest thanks for guiding Dark Rider, young Tails," Lancelot said.

Tails offered Lancelot a small smile. Dark Rider, huh? That sounded familiar. "You're welcome," Tails said. Then, after Lancelot disappeared around the corner to return the horse to her stable, he shot Sonic a pointed look. "I still have questions," he said seriously.

"Yeah, I figured," Sonic replied.

"A lot of questions," Tails added.

"Just you wait," Sonic said mysteriously. "There's more where that came from."

Lancelot returned. "They won't be expecting me so soon," he told Sonic and Tails. "When I discovered you on the outskirts of the forest, I had only just left in search of the mad mages."

Sonic raised an eyebrow. "The mad mages?" he asked.

Lancelot's face darkened. "Yes," he confirmed. "There's much you don't yet know, King Sonic. Things have changed since you were here last... and not all for the better. But this is no place for conversation, let's head inside."

The three of them did so. Once the giant wooden doors closed behind them, Tails had to try his hardest to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull. There was just so much to look at: the mounted suits of armor, the stained glass windows, and even the wonderfully detailed carpet. The whole castle also had a unique smell, like that of a delicately scented candle. It really was like something straight out of a storybook!

Lancelot led Sonic and Tails through the halls of the castle. Occasionally, Tails could catch bits of whispers as the staff noticed who exactly it was that was wandering the halls. Their excited chatter made Tails feel excited too--excited to learn exactly what was going on here.

Finally, they arrived before a set of important-looking double doors. Lancelot went to push them open, but then stopped.

"What's up, Lance?" Sonic asked.

"There's no telling how the Round Table will react to your return," Lancelot said slowly. "We've remained together despite some... differing opinions."

Sonic tilted his head. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

"It's far from that."

Tails bit his lip. "What's going on here, Sh... Lancelot? Really?"

Lancelot looked from Tails to Sonic.

Sonic snorted. "Anything you tell me, you tell him. He's with me no matter what."

Lancelot gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Very well," he said. "In truth, your departure left us in a bad state. I had faith you would return, but the wounds of the false king were still fresh for many. Sir Gawain, among others, couldn't move on so easily. To say nothing of the wizard's sudden betrayal..."

Sonic held up his hands. "Woah, wait. You mean Merlina?"

Lancelot replied in a grave voice, "The very same."

Suddenly, the doors were pulled open. From inside the room, a purple cat poked out her head. "Ah! Sir Lancelot, I thought I heard your voice. Was there something...?" she started to ask, but her question was forgotten when she saw Sonic and Tails.

Sonic waved. "Hi, Percival."

Percival covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp. Then, she snapped to face Lancelot. "Swear to me that the mad mages aren't behind this. I have no time for trickery now, Sir Lancelot!"

"I swear, what you see is true," Lancelot replied. "Our king has returned along with his brother, the fox."

Immediately, Percival dropped into a respectful kneel. Tails cringed in sympathy for Sonic, sensing that this would become a trend. But Sonic just ignored it, saying, "Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you too. You know, we were just talking about Gawain. Is he in there with you?"

Percival tensed, then stood. After not-so-subtly pulling the door shut, she said, a little tightly, "Yes. However, it might be best to return later. Sir Gawain has become somewhat... prickly... since your departure, my lord."

"So I've heard," Sonic said, sounding bored. "Look, I know he's a knucklehead. That's not news to me. But from the sound of it, things are a bit rocky here. I'd like to be able to count on everyone if things get tough."

"'Rocky'...?" Percival repeated. Her face softened somewhat as she made a realization. "Oh, well, yes. They have been. But now that you've returned, King Sonic, the political unrest will surely resolve."

Sonic tapped his foot. "I'm not talking about politics," he said, irritated, "I'm talking about Merlina. I thought we'd buried the hatchet last time, but I guess some people need a Round 2."

Percival glanced at Lancelot, whose expression remained hard. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "If only it were that simple," she sighed. Then, she explained what had happened in Camelot since Sonic's departure.

Sonic struggled to pay attention through it all. Mostly because it involved a bunch of complicated political stuff that he couldn't care less about. Basically, the void of power left by Sonic returning to his own world had fractured the kingdom. Cool. Personally, he thought these prim-and-proper types should've been able to figure that out on their own, but maybe he was being insensitive. 

...Had there always been this many flowers in the castle? The vases were a little gaudy for Sonic's taste, but the flowers were nice...

When Percival finally brought up Merlina's name, Sonic started listening again. Apparently, she had disappeared without a trace not too long ago. But recently there had been sightings of her alongside another magic user. They weren't pleasant reports, though; wherever they went, destruction was sure to follow. So, that explained the whole "mad mages" thing. Sonic's expression soured. Something about this whole thing didn't sit right with him.

Last time he was here, he'd been called by Merlina. So, how'd he and Tails get here this time?

By the time Percival finished speaking, Sonic was deep in thought. Tails, too, was pensive.

"I understand it's a lot to take in," Percival said sympathetically. "But we need not worry ourselves over it all at once. After all, you've returned! The tide of Camelot's misfortune will turn, I'm sure of it."

With that, the doors behind them opened. "I've heard enough," Gawain said as he appeared in the doorway. "So, you're back, are ya? Had enough of running away, huh?"

"Sir Gawain..." Lancelot warned, his hand moving to the sword sheathed at his hip.

Sonic stepped between the two of them, facing Gawain. "I missed you too, Gawain," Sonic said. When Gawain just growled, Sonic held up his hands placatingly. "Look," he continued, "I get it. You're mad. So, let's cut to the chase, alright? Meet me out front and we'll duke it out like old times. Cool?"

Gawain glowered at Sonic. "A deserter is hardly worth the effort," he spat.

"Even if I let you pick the terms?" Sonic asked.

Lancelot and Percival's eyes widened.

Gawain considered this. After a moment, he said, "Your defeat ends in banishment. And your victory..." Gawain leaned fully into Sonic's space, attempting to intimidate him with his cold stare and bared teeth. "...It shall not come to pass."

Sonic crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to back down. "Uh huh. Deal."

"M-My lord!"

"King Sonic!"

Sonic waved his hand. He didn't look away from Gawain. "I'm looking forward to a real challenge. It's more fun that way. So don't let me down, got it?"

The preparations for the duel were carried out quickly. That was good, because Sonic didn't want to wait--he was practically buzzing with anticipation. One of the castle staff had brought him his old gauntlet, but Caliburn was nowhere to be found. Sonic didn't know whether to be happy or disappointed to be given a non-talking replacement sword instead.

By the time the knights, Sonic, and Tails had gathered in the front courtyard, the news of the king's return had spread through the whole castle as well as the town. Spectators ringed the courtyard, whispering to themselves about who would win.

Sonic and Gawain stood opposite each other. The crowd hushed when Gawain shifted, his gaze intense. "I'm Sir Gawain of the Round Table," he stated. "My duty is to protect this kingdom and its people."

Sonic leaned on his sword, a small smile playing at his lips. "Yup, that sounds just like you. But where's the rest? C'mon, I'm waiting."

Gawain's nose twitched. It was obvious he wanted to curl his lip in disdain, but instead he settled for setting his mouth into a hard line. "You call yourself king, but you abandoned your own people. I refuse to bow to a deserter!"

Sonic sighed. He couldn't argue, because Gawain was right: he did leave. Instead, he said, "I don't want you to bow, Gawain. Don't you get it? Your kingdom's in trouble!"

"And what of you, knave?" Gawain hissed, and the crowd gasped. "Could you be an omen yourself?"

Shaking his head, Sonic replied, "I'm here to help."

"Enough!" Gawain snapped. He raised one of his swords, and with that, the duel officially began.

Gawain was faster than Sonic remembered--had he been training since he'd last seen him? The red knight crossed the courtyard in the blink of an eye, slashing at Sonic with what must've been months of pent-up frustration. Sonic raised his own sword to block Gawain's attack, and the subsequent clang of steel resounded throughout the whole courtyard.

Then, Sonic tried to knock Gawain's feet out from under him, but the knight blocked his kick with his other sword. Dang! That was annoying. Even so, Sonic couldn't help but grin. After all, he did say he'd wanted a challenge.

Flipping backwards, Sonic freed himself from the stalemate. From the relative safety of a few feet away, he taunted Gawain with a wink. The red knight grew angry and charged at Sonic again, not unlike a bull.

This time, Sonic dodged Gawain's attack with a simple side-step, but he quickly realized that Gawain wasn't as nimble as him; while Sonic could stop on a dime, Gawain, being taller and heavier, could not. If their fight was happening in the middle of an empty field, then that wouldn't be a problem, but there were people surrounding the arena!

In a flash, Sonic spun around on his heel, and with his super speed, he managed to catch the back of Gawain's metal collar before he could barrel into the crowd.

Gawain blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered. "You won't be so lucky a second time," he told Sonic.

Sonic let go of Gawain's collar and replied, "Prove it!"

They clashed for a while longer, a blur of blue and red across the cobblestone courtyard. Gawain managed to graze Sonic with the business end of his blade a few times, but so did Sonic. Maybe if Gawain didn't want to look like he was covered in paper cuts, he should've designed his armor more effectively! At least, that's what Sonic thought, anyway.

Finally, Sonic managed to knock one of Gawain's swords out of his hand with a well-timed kick. His second sword was soon to follow. Then, Sonic slammed into him, sending him to the ground. With one shoe, Sonic pinned Gawain to the ground, his sword held against the red knight's neck.

"I win," Sonic announced.

The crowd cheered while Lancelot and Percival let out a sigh of relief. Tails, on the other hand, just snorted. Leave it to his big bro to be a drama king!

Sonic sheathed his sword and stepped off of Gawain. Then, he extended a hand to him. "We're stronger together. Will you help us keep Camelot safe?"

Gawain glared up at Sonic. When Lancelot and Percival appeared at his sides, he glared at them too. But eventually, he let out a sharp breath. "Yes, but not for you." He accepted Sonic's hand and said with conviction, "For the kingdom."

Sonic grinned.

Afterward, there was a party. The threat of the mad mages had brought unease to the kingdom, but with Sonic's arrival, it seemed as though a beacon of hope had appeared in Camelot. So, the townsfolk decided to celebrate. As night fell, the castle and its surrounding town became aglow with lantern light. Upbeat music drifted through the streets while people danced. The warm smells of street food wafted from stalls, making Sonic's stomach growl.

"Man, I'm starving!" Sonic said to no one in particular.

In response, approximately twenty vendors suddenly appeared with their freshly baked bread, meats, and cheeses. Sonic blinked in surprise before graciously taking what he could carry, then enlisting Tails' help to grab the rest.

The three knights were there as well, although Gawain was keeping his distance. Sonic offered a spiced bread roll to Lancelot and a sticky pastry to Percival. They accepted with their heads bowed. Sonic also offered pieces of his mountain of goodies to the townsfolk he passed, which eventually left him with a much more manageable hill of treats that he happily stuffed into his mouth.

Tomorrow, he and the knights would need to make a plan for dealing with the mad mages. But for right now, Sonic was content to fill his belly and enjoy the party.

Tails bit into a meat-and-cheese-something-or-other and chewed it thoughtfully. It tasted good, and it was still hot, which made the flavors pop out and swim across his tongue. No food he'd ever eaten in a dream had tasted like this, so he had to accept that it was real. Even though it was hard to believe, he and Sonic had been transported to another world. A world of knights and mages.

Tails' expression soured. He thought about the invention in his backpack, the same one he'd been showing off to Sonic earlier back in their own world. It seemed so small in comparison to this bizarre place filled with magic and mystery.

Speaking of which...

Tails was wrenched out of his reverie when he heard someone scream.

"Monsters!"

Tails dropped the rest of the food he was holding. It all tumbled to the ground dramatically, and the narrator urges you to mourn the loss of such delicious food. Especially since things are about to get much, much worse.

A flight of winged, human-faced monsters had arrived. They swooped down to crash the party, their wicked talons swiping this way and that. People shouted and ran for cover, but not everyone was fast enough to avoid their grasp; a small child was plucked from the street by the arm and lifted into the sky by the harpy.

"Hold it!" Sonic shouted. Then, he took a running leap at the kidnapper, using a nearby food stall to bounce off of and gain height. In midair, he tackled the monster, which then released the young girl in its grasp.

She shrieked as she fell through the air, but luckily Lancelot was there to catch her, his armored skates sparking from use.

The streets were chaotic. Townsfolk continued to scream and run, ducking into buildings and slamming the doors shut behind them as harpies terrorized them. The knights fought valiantly, their swords slicing through flesh and feathers. Despite the large number of winged monsters, they fell quickly, and so it wasn't long before their ranks thinned to almost nothing.

But that wasn't the end of it.

After spin dashing into a group of harpies and knocking them over like bowling pins, Sonic froze. He realized the ground was shaking beneath his feet, and looked around wildly to find out why. It wasn't long before he spotted the source: a giant red dragon. Or, what appeared to be a red dragon. Upon closer inspection, it actually looked like it was part dragon, part bird, and part human. And it had just crashed through the town’s protective wall.

Percival gasped. "A chimera?"

Sonic shook the monster blood off his sword before rushing over to where the knights were gathered. "You guys keep these birdbrains busy," he said. "I'll handle the big guy."

"Sonic, wait!" Tails said, grabbing Sonic's wrist before he could run off.

"No time, buddy. Tall, Red, and Ugly over there is big trouble. I'm countin' on you to back me up!"

Tails pressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded. Then, he let Sonic go.

With his super speed, Sonic was able to dodge fleeing townsfolk, hop over toppled food carts, and run along the roofs of buildings. He stopped on a tiled roof not far from the chimera, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted. "Heeey! Over here!"

The chimera ignored him. It bulldozed its way through the town, crushing stalls and carts underfoot. Sonic chased after it, jumping across rooftops like he was in Assassin's Creed, careful to keep his soles from slipping on the inclined surfaces. Where are you going? he wondered as he watched the chimera squeeze through a narrow alleyway, smashing in windows with its huge scaly tail as it did so.

Sonic's eyes moved in front of the chimera. Up ahead was the courtyard and beyond that, the castle. That must be it!

But, wait, that was bad. Like, really bad! Because that was where the townsfolk were headed! The strong stone walls of the castle offered the best protection from monsters. That was, until a huge chimera came knocking at their door!

Sonic zoomed across the rooftops until he got close enough to the chimera to leap onto its back. He nearly slipped when he landed on the slick red scales, but stubbornly held on by grabbing a fistful of feathers. By now, the chimera had burst out into the open courtyard. Sonic didn't have a lot of time to redirect it before people got hurt.

Setting his jaw, Sonic crawled up to the chimera's head like a little blue bug. It only noticed him once he was face to face with it--or, maybe it was a her? She bared her teeth at Sonic and swiped at him with her big dragon claws, but Sonic was too agile for her to catch.

With his feet planted firmly on her shoulders, he leaned upside down in front of her face and blew a raspberry. His hand made the L-shape as he held it against his forehead, the moonlight glinting off his gauntlet.

In response, the chimera's eyes snapped to the gauntlet. She no longer attempted to swat Sonic like a pesky fly, but rather, she tried to snatch the gauntlet. Sonic flipped off her shoulders, landed on the ground in the courtyard, and then looked from his gauntlet to the chimera.

"You want this?" he asked.

Her yellow eyes seared against the darkness, never looking away from Sonic's hand.

The blue hedgehog grinned wildly. "Then come and take it!"

Sonic led the chimera away from the castle and into the nearby forest. He didn't stop running until he could no longer hear any sounds from the town, and then he kept running for a little while longer, just for good measure. He deliberately slowed his pace so the chimera wouldn't lose him in the tangled mess of foliage, where the darkness blended together with the roughage.

When he finally stopped, he skidded in the dirt. The chimera wasn't far behind, so he had to think fast: what was the best way to slay a dragon?

The chimera burst out from the bushes as Sonic unsheathed his sword. It lunged at him immediately, but was still too slow to catch him. Instead, Sonic ran underneath her scaly arm, only stopping once he was directly underneath her. Before she had time to react, he plunged the sword upward into her chest... or, he tried to.

The chimera's super tough scales broke the sword when it made contact. Sonic dropped it and hurried back out into the forest. So, that didn't work. Now what?

Suddenly, Sonic heard someone's voice. He looked around, worried someone from the town had wandered out here and was now in danger, but quickly realized it was actually the chimera. She had her hand raised in front of her as she spoke--no, chanted.

Uh oh.

Spikes shot up from the earth, and Sonic narrowly avoided being skewered. The forest floor was now a mess of jagged spikes, leaving very little room for Sonic to run. He had to navigate between the closely-packed spikes, which took precious time and attention, and it didn't help that the chimera was shooting fireballs at him now.

"Sorry, lady! Hedgehog's not on the menu tonight!" he quipped as he ducked under a particularly large fireball. "These quills weren't meant to be barbecued!"

Eventually, the fireballs stopped flying.

A drop of sweat slid down Sonic's face, but he didn't stop moving. He couldn't afford to. This monster was full of surprises, and one wrong move could land him six feet under.

Unfortunately, Sonic had gotten so fixated on her human half that he didn't notice when her dragon tail arced through the night until it was too late. It slammed into his side, knocking him off the top of the spike he'd been perched on. He soared through the air, stunned, until he landed in the palm of the chimera's huge draconic hand.

Oof!

Sonic tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but without a running start, he couldn't overpower her. Black spots swam across his vision, but he just gritted his teeth. If it was the gauntlet she wanted, then he wasn't going to let her have it, no matter what. Using the last of his strength, Sonic removed his gauntlet and buried it deep inside his un-barbecue-able, super sharp quills.

Then, a sickening crunch echoed through the forest, and Sonic drooped in the chimera's grasp.

Without a word, she brought Sonic's body up to her face, searching for the gauntlet. When she realized it was no longer on his hand, she almost dropped him--but then she caught sight of the silvery prize between the hedgehog's quills. With her soft human hands, she reached for it... only to immediately recoil, because she'd been poked!

Scowling, the chimera tried again, only to be poked a second time. Ouch! She sniffed, a single cartoon tear dripping from her eye. Then, she tried to get the gauntlet with her dragon hands... but they were way too big. There was no way she'd be able to finagle that tiny gauntlet out of Sonic's quills when her claws were the same size as his head!

Pouting, the chimera resigned herself to just taking Sonic's entire body back to the Dungeon Master. She'd gotten what he’d wanted, anyway--surely, he could figure out the rest?

So, that was what she did. With Sonic's body held in her arms, she trampled through the forest, back to Thistle.

He was waiting for her along with the female wizard, Merlina, at the lake where Lancelot had originally encountered Sonic and Tails. The two mages were discussing something in hushed tones, but stopped once they heard the booming footsteps of Thistle's chimera approach. Then, they turned toward the forest to watch as the dragon with a human head emerged from the shadow of the trees.

Merlina’s heart dropped when she saw what the chimera was carrying.

Thistle had no reaction to Sonic's body. Once the chimera was close, he simply asked, "Well? Did you get it?"

The chimera knelt down so she could show Thistle the gauntlet trapped in Sonic's quills. When Thistle reached for it, the chimera pulled Sonic's body against her chest and said with difficulty, "Sh... arp..."

Thistle lowered his hand.

It was then that Merlina stepped forward. Her face revealed none of her true feelings, but when she placed her hand on Sonic's head, her fingers trembled slightly. "I sense a great power within this creature," she said cryptically. "Perhaps he could be of use to us?"

Thistle frowned. He looked closer at Sonic, but he didn't see whatever it was that Merlina saw.

"Some artifacts are protected by narrow passages," Merlina added. "In that case, a... smaller... creature would be valuable."

The chimera puffed up her cheeks indignantly. How rude!

Thistle considered this. Then, he looked down. His arms were overloaded with two large books. Carrying them both this far had been a hassle, but he couldn't leave either one behind. They both had to stay where he could see them. But, maybe...

"Dragon," Thistle said, causing the chimera to snap to attention. "Set it down here."

The chimera did as she was told. Now, Sonic's body laid flat in the grass at Thistle's feet.

After rummaging around in his pocket for a moment, Thistle pulled out a glass vial with a single drop of blood inside. While Merlina watched, he popped the lid off the vial before turning it upside down and letting the droplet stain Sonic's chest red. Lastly, he moved one of his books under his arm, then opened the other one and began to read.

Sonic's body glowed as the droplet of blood soaked into his fur and disappeared. Then, he gasped and sat up, clutching his chest. Life had returned to his body, but his head was spinning, and when he looked up and saw Merlina, his head hurt even more.

"What--?"

Thistle didn't let him finish. He transformed the book into a pulsing ball of light that squirmed and twitched as if it was alive. Before the strange orb could escape the mage's grasp, he shoved it into Sonic's open mouth.

Sonic, startled, swallowed it.

Merlina was glad Thistle couldn't see her expression as Sonic transformed before her eyes, his whole body burning with the fierceness of a small star. Feathers grew from his fur and his legs twisted into the body of a lion, all the while Merlina looked on in horror.

When the light finally faded, signaling the end of the transformation, the dragon chimera cocked her head curiously at the newly made lion chimera.

Sonic shivered in the grass, his long tail flicking back and forth.

Thistle gave him no time to acclimate to his new body. "Lion," he said. "Give me the gauntlet."

Sonic growled.

Thistle held out one of his hands expectantly. "Now, Lion," he repeated, more firmly this time. "The gauntlet."

Sonic looked up at Thistle. When their eyes met, Sonic's stiff, defensive posture evaporated. With his strange new eyes, the lion chimera could see something floating just above Thistle's hand. It was about the size of a blueberry and just as round, but glowing with the warmth of a freshly baked biscuit. It looked delicious.

Sonic reached into his quills and pulled out the gauntlet. Now, he offered it to Thistle without hesitation, his head bowed slightly. But his eyes remained locked on that strange magic blueberry.

Thistle nodded, pleased. "Good," he said. And then he took the gauntlet from Sonic.

When he did, Sonic was able to taste that strange blueberry. And it tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten in his entire life--including chili dogs! His wings fluttered in delight as his eyes filled with sparkles. Now, there was only one thing on his mind: how could he get more of those blueberries?

[qin-qin16]

Cw: Killer x Reader, suggestive (?), but it is mostly fluff, Killer stage 2, actions against his soul (is all for science!), he kinda doesn't care though, we all like oblivious Reader… 

Notes: This was an ask for my other account, but I liked the result so much that I decided to post it here too!

Killer never thought anyone could hold his soul so gently — not after Chara’s suffocating embrace or Nightmare’s brutal treatment. 

His soul is familiar with pain, emptiness, death. But kindness? He’s never felt it — or at least, he doesn’t recall ever feeling it. His smile wavers just a bit when you softly squeeze his soul between your fingers.

“I'm sorry…” you whisper in that pretty voice of yours, but Killer isn't focused on your words, no. Instead, he's focused on your face: on your furrowed eyebrows, on the curiosity in your eyes, on the slight parting of your lips... He finds your expression quite  amusing.

Normal beings were scared, disgusted, and uncomfortable around him because of his soul — something that shouldn’t be outside his ribs, especially with its round shape and dripping. But curiosity like yours? Few possess that.

However, you weren’t just curious. You were just like him. 

You wanted to experience it; touch it, squeeze it, feel it, maybe even step on it, tear it, bite it… He’d done all of that before just to see how much his soul could endure.

He shivers again, this time because of your caress between the red circles that form his soul like a funny target. Killer can’t resist teasing you with some dreadful remarks.

"Want to taste it? Want to sink your teeth into the small circle in the middle? I promise you I wouldn’t feel a thing…" he says, his smile widening as you bring it closer to your mouth.

It’s true; even if you bit with all your strength, he wouldn’t feel a thing. Maybe he’d experience a shockwave coursing through his body, so fast that it nearly turns him to dust. But that’s just a physical reaction — emotional responses? Killer doesn’t experience those. He doesn’t need to.

.

.

.

You kissed it. 

You gently press your lips to his soul in a single, careful kiss. No one has ever done this before, and the results are fascinating. 

Killer's bones tremble against each other as his magic makes beads of sweat form on his body. He can feel himself panting from the intense wave that washes over him, but it’s not a wave of shock or pain.

It was something warm, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. Perhaps your intention was conveyed through the kiss — passing into his soul and through his being like a Cupid’s arrow. He can feel kindness, concern, curiosity, and bravery. Were you… feeling all of that just from holding his soul?

When he looks at you, Killer almost instantly notices the new color on your lips: a bright, vibrant red — his determination now adorned on your lips like some kind of lip gloss. He also notices the same color on your hands.

His soul continues to drip, tainting everything around it — including you and the floor. Its shape begins to deform, the sides quivering and stretching. 

You lick your lips before humming as you taste it. It seems you enjoy the flavor of his soul.

"I thought it would have a specific flavor, but it tastes like... I don’t know, something bitter? It’s sweet too, but essentially bitter." You begin to lick your fingers as you savor it, "It’s not bad — really, it’s not bad at all."

Killer feels his eye sockets quiver and his black tears stop falling. He hasn’t stopped panting yet, and red sweat still drips from his forehead.

“It’s not poisoning, right? I should have asked before– I didn’t know you had any light in your eye.” You said, surprised, your eyes now fixed on him.

He, as surprised as you, glances down at his soul, seeing it in an upside-down heart shape. Killer laughs bitterly, feeling a strange, tingling sensation in his bones as he meets your gaze. He can also feel his cheekbones flushing from how intently you are observing him.

“Heh, neither did I.” Despite his nonchalant tone, you notice his tail giving a little wag. He is clearly pleased with the results of your test with his soul.

“Can I bite it now?”

“No.” He cuts you off. If your gentle kiss had such an impact on him, he doesn’t want to imagine what a bite would do — at least not in his current state.

“Just a little nibble?”

“Sorry, kid, not this time~”