#How To Fix Windows search bar not working

[leveragehunters]

CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

[zamietech]

Fix Windows search bar not working

The Windows Search bar is a powerful tool allowing users to locate files, applications, and computer settings quickly. However, it can be frustrating when the search bar suddenly stops working. If you’ve encountered this issue, fear not! In this troubleshooting guide, we’ll explore common causes behind the Windows Search bar not working and provide effective solutions to get it up and running…

[aridridge]

quick temporary fix to enable skin details, overlays, & default eyes for infants

for people asking how i figured out how to get things like skin overlays enabled for infants (namely @delicateism & @simminnikas on my post). 

this is not by any means a long-term fix or even probably the most convenient way to do this, it’s just what i ended up doing for the moment so that the babies would be cute. it’s also not a way to fix default skins; it’s just a way to get your infant to have the skin you like. whoever has a better way to do this, i’d totally love to know how! this is just how i jerryrigged it for the time being :)

first, i went into sims 4 studio, and went file > open > then i clicked the package file of the skin overlay i wanted. this has to be a nondefault version of a skin overlay—it can be set as a skin detail, or maybe makeup, whatever. if your favorite skin has a nondefault skin detail/makeup version, open that in sims 4 studio, and a window will pop up.

once the window pops up, i go to the tab that says ‘texture,’ where you’ll see a picture of the skin overlay. click export, and it will export this skin overlay to a png file. that’s the first part done!

after this i went back to the home screen of sims 4 studio. on the home screen, i selected ‘override’ under the blue tab that says CAS, then clicked on that blue CAS tab, which opened a window full of assets from the game. 

under the search bar, i typed ‘storkbite’ which brought up the skin detail asset that is the infant stork bite birthmark thing. once you select it & click next, it will prompt you to name the file before you make it, so name it something so u know what it is. 

after this, a window like the one from before with the skin overlay will pop up. under the same texture tab from before, you want to press import this time. you’ll want to import the png file that you exported from your favorite skin overlay earlier. 

click save, and the name you chose earlier will be a package file now that you should put in your mods folder. now, when you go into the game in create a sim and select the stork bite detail, instead of giving your infant sim a stork bite, it will give them the face overlay you selected. (you can choose to have your skin overlay replace the other infant skin details instead, like the birth marks on their backs and legs, but you’ll have to scroll through the assets during step 3-4 until you find the one you want your skin overlay to replace.)

this same process can be done with makeup, too. there’s no makeup tab for infants, but by following this same process, you can choose to make your favorite blush/whatever replace an existing base game infant skin detail (or maybe you can make the makeup be an added swatch of an existing skin detail without actually replacing the original, if while on the home screen during step 3 you select ‘add cas part swatch’ instead of ‘override’, but i haven’t actually tested this). 

if you follow a similar process, but instead of replacing a stork bite, you make overrides by changing both the texture AND the specular of the default base game eye color assets in sims 4 studio (which will be listed as yfeyecolor, but that’s fine, it works the same), you should be able to make your favorite default eyes work for infants, too, but it’s kind of an arduous process that i haven’t fully completed yet. i’ve done it with one eye color, which worked just fine, but it looks like you might have to do them all manually, one at a time?

if anybody knows a more efficient way to fix default eyes, please, please, PLEASE rb & tell me lmaoooo. if anyone has a good way to fix default skins, please rb with that, too! <3

[octuscle]

Hi, im a 19 yo nerd, yesterday some kids wre playing with a soccer ball in front of my house, the ball got into the garden of my house and when i threw it out, i didnt nlticed i threw it a bit far and it arrived into the house across the street, breaking a window, the neighbor, a single man, came to my house and told my parents what i did, he demands i repair the window by myself, i dont know how to do that, can you give me a little help?

First of all, you do what you do best. You sit down at your computer. Enter "repair soccer window" into Google. A lot of things come up that won't help you at all. Care tips for footballs. And advertisements for household contents and liability insurance. The soccer care thing doesn't look very helpful, but it might be interesting.

Shit, you can waste a lot of time on the Internet very quickly. After half an hour, you're back to the current and upcoming match day in the Premier League. But you still don't know anything about repairing windows. "Repairing windows". Perhaps it would help to remove soccer from the search query. It doesn't matter why the window is broken. It just needs to be repaired.

Now we're getting closer to the point. Lots of tutorials on youtube. Surely there's something there. Unfortunately, you don't even know what kind of window is broken. And what exactly is broken. Damn, just how many different types of window panes there are. You can find an article about German windows. They have a lot of damn cool features. I wonder if that would be a market to sell and install German ones here. What this tilt function is supposed to do is still not clear to you. But these shutters on the windows are hot shit. You'd like to install something like that at your parents' house.

You're guaranteed not to install something from Schüco for a few thousand dollars in your neighbor's house… You're assuming that your neighbor will have vertical sliding windows in most of the rooms, just like you do. Probably made of aluminum. A shame, really. Horizontal sliding windows made of wood with glazing bars would fit the character of the house much better.

Haven't you ever worked for your neighbor? You must still have plans and views from the street side. Or at least a photo. Yes, here. Where were you standing again? How hard did you throw the ball? What was the wind like? Just because you did an apprenticeship as a carpenter doesn't mean you're stupid. So it's probably the window of the study on the second floor. Yes, it must have been rotten, you can see that quite clearly in the photo. Just replacing the glass won't help much.

Nowadays, working on the computer is half the battle. Calculating material requirements, programming saws for cutting. And downloading some porn in between. Hehehe, unlike your father, you don't need to hang up raunchy calendars in the workshop anymore. Your father is hardly ever seen here anyway. It's no longer his world. In his day, a carpenter needed a hammer and a saw, he used to say. Old man, those days are long gone.

Before you start, you went to your neighbor's house across the street. Real life is sometimes more reliable than virtual life. But it was the right window, you measured it again with your laser measuring device. You had miscalculated by a few millimeters. You are a craftsman with passion and dedication. You don't mess around. You deliver precision work.

"Mr. T, better than before my throw," you say with a grin. But it's the pure truth. But you know exactly why your neighbor insisted that you carry out the repair. He'll do anything to get you to fix things in his house. And when no more chairs tip over and no more doors squeak, you'll take care of Mr. T. yourself.

He asks if you can have a look at the shower after the window. While you take off your dungarees, you say that you are a carpenter and not a plumber. You will probably need help. You don't have to ask Mr. T for long.

[drgnflyteabox]

postcards from the coast [2]

previous || part two -> linens || part three -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick / single mom!reader summary: kyle looks for you, then finds you tags/warnings: grief, less angst but still there, depression, non-creepy stalking, judgmental people, anxiety, previous injuries, insomnia, don't accept rides from strange men ladies and theydies, unless it's gaz then feel free<3 w.c: 1.2k

"Can I get a red-eye?"

Sleep has been difficult lately. Evasive. He sometimes goes through insomniac phases, where no amount of jogging or calisthenics practice or mental exercise helps. It's pure, restless energy.

Before, he might've taken himself to a bar, found a pretty girl to fuck and ease the buzzing under his skin. Now it's too painful - too much of a reminder of post-mission decompressing with the team. Sat in a circle booth, slapping each other on the back as they left, the smell of cigar-smoke and perfume.

Not that he'd be able to here, anyway. The town is too small, too isolated. There's hardly a main street, just a strip with bare necessities vaguely at the center of rolling hill country pock-marked with bleached white cottages and surrounded by cold ocean on all sides.

Peaceful, sometimes. Unbearable, mostly.

"Sure, any milk or sugar?"

"No, that's alright, thank you." He's been here every day, mixing a caffeine fix with his ongoing search for you. Curiosity and boredom, he tells himself. The product of so many sudden life changes - the end of their last mission, Johnny's passing. He just needs something else to focus on, something soft and wide-eyed.

At least the coffee is good.

The next time he sees you, it's in passing. Driving out of town to the post office to pick up a gift from his sister.

You're holding a toddler by both arms, their feet on yours, walking them up the steps toward the local library. Another long skirt, wimpling softly in the breeze. There's a smile on your face as you watch the child walk with you.

It almost feels like a missed opportunity - like he should turn back. But the post office closes in a couple hours and it takes nearly that long to get there, so Kyle elects to be patient.

You're there every evening. From five o'clock until closing at eight, you sit at the same window and alternate reading a massive tome and babbling back at your baby, who's sitting on a wooden high-chair.

The librarian makes rounds just to say hello to the two of you, pinching cheeks and ooing and aweing.

"And how old is she again?" She whispers mindfully. Her nametag says Nettie and she's a kindly-looking old woman, bent a little from years of work but sturdy as a mast in a storm.

"Turning two soon," you whisper back. Neither of you have any idea he's there yet, browsing the books as a cover to peek through the shelf at you. "She's a taurus."

"Just about to hit the terrible twos!" Nettie laughs.

"Yep," you laugh with her, but there's something there. A sheepishness. Embarrassment? Your expression is almost a grimace, from what he doesn't know. He wants to, though. Looks through the peephole and lets his chest fill with something other than grief for just a moment.

"And the father? Not a fan of reading?" She probably means well, but your face goes from vaguely uncomfortable to something like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, um," you're floundering, but Nettie is too busy stroking a wrinkled hand over your girls head. "He's not in the picture."

Not in the picture? If Kyle had felt any kind of guilt for eavesdropping, it's overshadowed by that information. Best stake-out of his career to-date.

You shrink a little when Nettie yanks her hand back, frowning. He can tell judgement and prejudice when he sees it - experience and a keen eye. Must be hard being a single mom.

Resigned - that's the look. Pained and embarrassed and resigned.

"Right. Well," Nettie's sensible leather shoes clack against the floor. You don't watch her go, your hand is reaching into your bag for a tiny knit hat.

Fuck, you're leaving.

As you gather your things - book, coat, bags, baby - he tucks himself into the shelf, positioned still as a sniper, to-

"Ouch!" Your voice cuts through the quiet of the library. Kyle flounders, caught off guard for once. He'd only gently bumped into you to make it look like an accident, like something out of a rom-com. Girls liked that, usually.

But instead of looking up at him with surprise, you close your eyes and shy away from him, shoulders coming up defensively - you can't reach your arm, not with a baby on your hip, but it's obvious you're in pain.

"Are you okay?" You look to him, wincing still. You're asking him if he's okay? Heat creeps into his cheeks, warming him with regret.

"I'm good, I'm good," he says quickly. "Sorry about that, love, didn't see you there."

"That's okay," you readjust, arm limp at your side. Your heavy bags hang off of it, but there's nothing you can do with the baby on your hip.

"Let me get those," there's no time for you to reject his offer; he's too quick. The bags are heavy - no doubt there are more books and a baby go-bag. This close, you smell powdery soft like linen sheets and laundry dried outside.

"It's the least I can do," he's trying to be casual about it, lest he scare you off. Holds the door open, notices while you step out that your daughter looks just like you.

"Thank you, you didn't have to," you look down. How'd you hurt your arm? He knows he didn't hurt you - not like that, at least. Not enough to warrant such a reaction.

"Of course I did, didn't mean to get'cha so hard," his head swivels. There are only two cars in the parking lot. "Can I get these in your car?"

"Oh, I walked, that's okay," you reach to take the bags back, but he pulls away.

"I can't let you walk home, please- let me be a gentleman and give you a ride," he knows it's a long shot. Neither of you have exchanged names, neither of you are locals. He's tried to make himself look as approachable as possible; head tilted down, brown eyes imploring, palms out even with your bags in one hand, but it's a gamble.

There's natural suspicion and hesitation, your eyes looking side-to-side, but you nod with a hesitant smile after a moment. It's hard to keep the grin down, but he manages it up until you're tucked in his passenger seat and he's putting your bags in the back of his car.

"My name is Kyle, by the way," he puts his keys in the ignition, turns them. Pretends not to notice how you sink into the seat, eyes drooping, holding your daughter on your lap. It's not safe, but it's a country road and he promised to drive slow on the way.

You tell him your name. It's pretty, fitting. He wonders again about you - who left you like this? Alone, hurt, tired, trusting a stranger to drive you home. If he were your man, he'd never let you be put in a position like that.

The cottage you're renting is tiny, a glorified shack, rented as a cottage for tourists.

"There you are," he murmurs, trying not to startle you. "Need help getting in?"

"Hm?" You've been staring out the window. "Sorry! No, I'm alright, thank you again for the ride. Josie and I appreciate it."

Josie. It fits her, fits you. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

There's not a chance he lets you get the bags out yourself, and once you're appropriately sent off to your door, he sits and waits for a moment. Makes sure you get inside. Feels something loosen in his chest.

[itsjusthockey]

All I Need pt. 1 - Quinn Hughes

Hahhahahah angst

Not sorry

Enjoy

Part 2?

w.c: 1,141 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

The smell of Kennedy’s expensive perfume hits you long before you see her. You know she must have arrived shortly before you, and her signature Tom Ford perfume fills the space and invades your senses, clouding your already scattered thoughts.

The man clad in his server tuxedo leads you through the luxurious space, smiling and making small talk, gesturing his hands toward the bar while he tells you about their specialty drinks. It’s almost fate, you think, because God knows you need one.

After a few more smiles and nods, you make it to the reserved table. It’s on the edge of the vast space, but it sits in front of a wall of windows. It shows off a beautiful afternoon, with sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the table adorned with polished silverware and delicate china.

Sitting there, with a halo of light surrounding her, is Kennedy, digging through one of her Birkin bags. She flashes her eyes to you as you close in, and a broad smile dons on her signature red lips. She’s quick to her feet, and you can tell she chose her tallest heels for this special brunch occasion. She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.

“About damn time,” She lets out. “I thought I would have to drink all the bottomless mimosas myself.”

You bark out a laugh as you part, setting down your own bag on one of the empty chairs. You remove the light coat from your frame as Kennedy sits back down, eyeing your choice of outfit and subtly nodding her head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” You answer her, meeting her stare fully for the first time.

When your eyes connect to her dark blue hues, she takes you in, baring into the depths of your soul. She knows you better than you know yourself, and you’re hoping the facade of normalcy you’re putting on is convincing.

“I always understand when you have to cancel, you're a busy woman.”

Here it comes.

“So,” Kennedy sips her mimosa and smirks. "How's Max and the wedding plans? Did the planer fix the fuck up with the flowers?”

A sizeable dry lump forms in your throat, and your stomach tightens into uncomfortable knots. You avoid the question for a brief moment and take a sip of your drink. The sugary concoction coats your throat as it slides down, and you wish you could stay silent forever. The moment of unease stretches, and you can almost feel Kennedy grow more impatient with the ticking seconds.

“Yeah, they fixed it.” You break, forcing a smile.” Everything's great, Max is great.”

The words taste bitter as they leave your lips, but the lie lips easily. Kennedy's corner of her mouth twitches, but she takes the answer. Only for a moment, though, before she searches your face again and raises an eyebrow

“Come on, (Y/N), you have to give me something here. I want all the details about my best friend's wedding.”

You swallow hard again and take another drink. Then another.

“Max is wonderful," you say, your voice cracking imperceptibly. "We're just dealing with the usual pre-wedding stress, you know?"

Kennedy nods, but you don’t miss how her eyes shrink slightly in suspicion. She knows something is wrong, but thankfully, she assumes you’re telling her the truth and that the stress is about the wedding and not the actual terrible truth.

You feed her a couple more details to derail the beast, and she’s gone off your scent as a server comes to the table. A few minutes later, the food collection comes, and between your bits of some slightly dry chicken, the conversation drifts through floral arrangements and the upcoming bachelorette party. You finish your plate, pushing it to the side as you deeply discuss the possibility of flying into Vegas for one night. You find your lips being too dry for your liking, so while Kennedy rants about which clubs have the best VIP section, you lean over to grab your Dior gloss from your bag.

“Jesus, is that a hickey?” Kennedy's voice is laced with disbelief.

You quickly swat your hand up to the side of your neck, shocked that you could have missed something like that, so you try to play it off.

“What? No, of course not.”

Ken begins laughing so hard that a snort lets itself escape. She continues her fit until she's clutching her side, and a few older ladies at neighboring tables give her dirty looks.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know Max had that in him.” She lets out another giggle. “You better hope his mother doesn't come to lunch here today; she’d have a stroke.”

You don’t find her remotely funny, and you wish for nothing more than her to drop it. But knowing your best friend, stopping your utter humiliation isn't an option, and the tension building in your chest keeps growing as she pokes at it.

“Enough, Ken, please.” You finally snap.

Kennedy ceases her laughter and sits straighter in her chair, a confused, then slightly hurt, look crossing her features.

“God, (Y/N), I’m just having fun. What's up with you today? You have a massive stick up your ass.”

You scoff at her and roll your eyes. You know she’s right, but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction, and you’re not about to apologize. Instead, you return a stern look, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously, (Y/N). Are you pissed that Max had to go to that extra safety demo this weekend instead of staying back to help?”

You shake your head rapidly. That isn't what's bugging you. In fact, you were thrilled when he told you about the impromptu trip. You were fucking ecstatic.

“I’m fine, Ken; I’m just in a mood. Is that a crime?”

She rolls her icy eyes back at you.

“It is a crime when you're supposed to be having the time of your life. You’ve waited so long for this and have been acting weird for a while.”

That statement gets you.

“What do you mean?” You grit out between clenched teeth. “I have been the perfect little bride to be for everyone.”

Kennedy is quick to stick it to you. “Maybe with other people, not with me. You don't want to talk about the wedding. You don’t want to talk about Max. Like, what the hell? I’m your best friend, and we are supposed to be doing this together.”

Her face starts growing red as she continues. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“No.” You almost break down, knowing you have to tell her. “You didn’t.”

“Then what?”

It rises in your throat, and you know your entire world is about to burn.

“I’m cheating on Max.”

[keeppushingthelimits]

Illusions - Max Verstappen & ?

Hello & Welcome

I hope you enjoy

Comment & talk to me baby

I don't know who the other man is yet, any ideas?

w.c : 1,141 (credit to gif maker) (don't steal my work)

The smell of Kennedy’s expensive perfume hits you long before you see her. You know she must have arrived shortly before you, and her signature Tom Ford perfume fills the space and invades your senses, clouding your already scattered thoughts.

The man clad in his server tuxedo leads you through the luxurious space, smiling and making small talk, gesturing his hands toward the bar while he tells you about their specialty drinks. It’s almost fate, you think, because God knows you need one.

After a few more smiles and nods, you make it to the reserved table. It’s on the edge of the vast space, but it sits in front of a wall of windows. It shows off a beautiful afternoon, with sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the table adorned with polished silverware and delicate china.

Sitting there, with a halo of light surrounding her, is Kennedy, digging through one of her Birkin bags. She flashes her eyes to you as you close in, and a broad smile dons on her signature red lips. She’s quick to her feet, and you can tell she chose her tallest heels for this special brunch occasion. She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.

“About damn time,” She lets out. “I thought I would have to drink all the bottomless mimosas myself.”

You bark out a laugh as you part, setting down your own bag on one of the empty chairs. You remove the light coat from your frame as Kennedy sits back down, eyeing your choice of outfit and subtly nodding her head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” You answer her, meeting her stare fully for the first time.

When your eyes connect to her dark blue hues, she takes you in, baring into the depths of your soul. She knows you better than you know yourself, and you’re hoping the facade of normalcy you’re putting on is convincing.

“I always understand when you have to cancel, you're a busy woman.”

Here it comes.

“So,” Kennedy sips her mimosa and smirks. "How's Max and the wedding plans? Did the planer fix the fuck up with the flowers?”

A sizeable dry lump forms in your throat, and your stomach tightens into uncomfortable knots. You avoid the question for a brief moment and take a sip of your drink. The sugary concoction coats your throat as it slides down, and you wish you could stay silent forever. The moment of unease stretches, and you can almost feel Kennedy grow more impatient with the ticking seconds.

“Yeah, they fixed it.” You break, forcing a smile.” Everything's great, Max is great.”

The words taste bitter as they leave your lips, but the lie lips easily. Kennedy's corner of her mouth twitches, but she takes the answer. Only for a moment, though, before she searches your face again and raises an eyebrow

“Come on, (Y/N), you have to give me something here. I want all the details about my best friend's wedding.”

You swallow hard again and take another drink. Then another.

“Max is wonderful," you say, your voice cracking imperceptibly. "We're just dealing with the usual pre-wedding stress, you know?"

Kennedy nods, but you don’t miss how her eyes shrink slightly in suspicion. She knows something is wrong, but thankfully, she assumes you’re telling her the truth and that the stress is about the wedding and not the actual terrible truth.

You feed her a couple more details to derail the beast, and she’s gone off your scent as a server comes to the table. A few minutes later, the food collection comes, and between your bits of some slightly dry chicken, the conversation drifts through floral arrangements and the upcoming bachelorette party. You finish your plate, pushing it to the side as you deeply discuss the possibility of flying into Vegas for one night. You find your lips being too dry for your liking, so while Kennedy rants about which clubs have the best VIP section, you lean over to grab your Dior gloss from your bag.

“Jesus, is that a hickey?” Kennedy's voice is laced with disbelief.

You quickly swat your hand up to the side of your neck, shocked that you could have missed something like that, so you try to play it off.

“What? No, of course not.”

Ken begins laughing so hard that a snort lets itself escape. She continues her fit until she's clutching her side, and a few older ladies at neighboring tables give her dirty looks.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know Max had that in him.” She lets out another giggle. “You better hope his mother doesn't come to lunch here today; she’d have a stroke.”

You don’t find her remotely funny, and you wish for nothing more than her to drop it. But knowing your best friend, stopping your utter humiliation isn't an option, and the tension building in your chest keeps growing as she pokes at it.

“Enough, Ken, please.” You finally snap.

Kennedy ceases her laughter and sits straighter in her chair, a confused, then slightly hurt, look crossing her features.

“God, (Y/N), I’m just having fun. What's up with you today? You have a massive stick up your ass.”

You scoff at her and roll your eyes. You know she’s right, but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction, and you’re not about to apologize. Instead, you return a stern look, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously, (Y/N). Are you pissed that Max had to go to that extra safety demo this weekend instead of staying back to help?”

You shake your head rapidly. That isn't what's bugging you. In fact, you were thrilled when he told you about the impromptu trip. You were fucking ecstatic.

“I’m fine, Ken; I’m just in a mood. Is that a crime?”

She rolls her icy eyes back at you.

“It is a crime when you're supposed to be having the time of your life. You’ve waited so long for this and have been acting weird for a while.”

That statement gets you.

“What do you mean?” You grit out between clenched teeth. “I have been the perfect little bride to be for everyone.”

Kennedy is quick to stick it to you. “Maybe with other people, not with me. You don't want to talk about the wedding. You don’t want to talk about Max. Like, what the hell? I’m your best friend, and we are supposed to be doing this together.”

Her face starts growing red as she continues. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“No.” You almost break down, knowing you have to tell her. “You didn’t.”

“Then what?”

It rises in your throat, and you know your entire world is about to burn.

“I’m cheating on Max.”

[mudandmire]

Changes

Azris Week - Day 6: Changes

~~~ Little heavy for @azrisweek day 6, but I've had this scene in my head for days now and wanted to do it justice. I hope I did! Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoy!! :D ~~~

Fixing it

The salve Azriel uses for his hands now has to be restocked in the washroom cabinet every week. A supply that once lasted him two, sometimes three weeks, is running out faster than before.

Azriel will never complain—never whine or groan about how quickly he runs out of salve. Because all of it is going to Eris, and there is not a more worthy cause to use up all the burn salve in the world than him.

Sunlight slants through the window, golden and liquid where it pools on the wood floor and in the wash basin. Azriel brushes his hand on Eris’s right shoulder, gentle and searching, down to his arm. Eris startles slightly—he always does these days, but Azriel knows not to take it personally.

“Mina’s down for her nap,” he says softly, his other arm wrapping around his waist, “we should change your bandages, sweetheart.”

Azriel knows a time when Eris would have turned to him, a smirk tugging at his pink lips that Azriel would kiss at just to make them bloom into a smile.

He now knows a time when Mina isn’t crying, or fussing, or sick, Eris is quiet. Pensive. He leans more to his right, turns to his right, his right hand following Azriel whenever he falls to his left side.

He presses gentle kisses to fabric on his shoulder, waits patiently for Eris to say something. Or nothing, they’ve cultivated a comforting silence like their own secret garden over the years—it’s come in handy. This is one of those times.

“Are her wings doing better today?” Eris’s voice is quiet, raspy from how little he talks.

Azriel’s eyes fall shut, melting into the line of Eris, chest to back, pulse to pulse. He’s near dead on his feet with exhaustion. Taking care of an infant, an Illyrian infant when neither of them had very good childhoods was certainly a learning curve. Unfortunately for both of them; the curve seemed to be carving out most—if not all—of their sleep.

“They are, yeah. A little sore by the tendons, but Mumiah took a look today and said it’s most likely growing pains.” He mumbles into the warm skin of his neck, eyes still closed.

“That’s good.” Eris whispers. His own hands, spurred on my the littlest of good news, the best news when it comes to them, find Azriel’s and lock around them.

“C’mon,” Azriel says, stepping away from the heat of his body and leading him to the washroom, “we need to change the bandages before she wakes up.”

“We don’t need to do anything, Azriel.”

Azriel pauses in the doorway of the washroom, spinning on his heel and fixing Eris with the sternest look he can possibly conjure when he’s one second away from either bursting into tears, falling asleep, or kissing Eris so hard both of them forget the past month. Past year, past whole of their lives. Until they’re nothing but warmth and starlight and forever.

“I’m saying this once: It’s not a chore, Eris. You changed my bandages for months, was it ever an obligation for you?”

“Azriel—no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sweetheart,” his fingers ghost along the cotton gauze of the edge of the bandage. “I know what this is like, intimately. I know what you’re thinking so I need you to understand this isn’t a chore, or a job, or whatever else you think it is. I do this because I want to, because I love you, because I want to do everything with you.” He holds Eris by his chin, waiting for the love his life to meet his gaze.

Eris swallows hard, a glossy sheen over his eyes. “I love you.” He whispers back.

He pecks his lips gently, “love you, besheirt. Will you let me change your bandages, now?”

“If you must.” He grumbles, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

Azriel brings him further into the washroom, settling him at the counter near the basin. “I must.”

He runs his hand under the water, Eris handing him the little bar of soap. “Is the new milk working better for her?”

Azriel shrugs, patting his palms dry with the towel. “Depends—I think we can do as much as we can, but as long as she doesn’t have a mother…” A pinch appears between his brows, and he shakes his head.

“It kills me we can’t be what she needs.” Eris whispers, softer than intended.

Azriel watches him carefully, paying close attention to the bandaged left side of his face and neck, down to his shoulder. The same sentiment had been running through his head, too. How no matter how gentle and loving, no matter how they gave her a soft bed with all the furs and blankets she could want or sourced different milks from all over Prythian—they couldn’t be what she most needed, at this stage.

“We’ll get there.” He’s reassuring both of them, but it comes out uncertain.

“I want to be good enough, Azriel. I need to be good enough for her.”

Azriel nearly breaks his concentration from where he’s cautiously peeling away the bandage from Eris’s skin. He knows it’s painful, knows how many nerves are sparking and screaming. But Eris bears through it, nothing but the tight clench of his jaw and his hands curled into fists on his lap revealing otherwise.

“You are good enough, Eris.”

“No, I’m not, I’m—” he cuts off, one hand gesturing widely to his face, the piece of mangled, scarred skin revealed by the peeled off bandage.

Azriel bites down hard on his lip. No, this past month and a half hasn’t been easy. But one of the hardest things has to have been watching Eris—lit up from the inside with his copper hair and his trickster grin and that caring, daring heart—fall into a shell. A safe cocoon of vacancy and indifference.

It kills him, that he can’t be what either of them needs. Can’t stretch himself far enough, can’t give parts of himself away like bandages or the right milk to fix whatever’s broken. He can stitch by hand, mend by touch; but give nothing of what the two loves of his life actually need.

He swallows past the knot in his throat, letting it bob along the rising tide of despair that swells till it reaches the back of his tongue.

Azriel lets the silence be for now as he works away the rest of the bandage around Eris’s left ear, the one that stretches down to his neck. Soft apologies slip from his lips with every hidden wince, every caught whimper that Eris keeps behind his teeth.

When it comes away, fully, Azriel discards it and looks at him. There used to be a time where Eris relished being the center of Azriel’s unwavering attention—the star that kept his gaze. It’s just another thing Azriel has had to adjust to: like touching Eris on his right shoulder before greeting him, changing his bandages at odd hours when Mina finally cries herself to sleep, and keeping his gaze light. Easy. Not a search light or heavy, shared secret—but simple.

Azriel does so what is silently asked of him when Eris curls in on himself. His eyes skate around the ridges of his scars, the angry, raw sheen of it and the tight, whitened edges.

“It’s healing at the ends, so that’s good.” He says quietly, a damp, soaped cloth in his hand he begins to blot gently over the burn.

“Mm.” Is all he says, amber eyes cast down to where his fingernails pick at his cuticles until small drops of blood bead.

Azriel cups his fingers in his. “It is good. It means this isn’t forever.” His voice is stronger, head ducking down to meet Eris’s gaze. “And,” he starts, “even if it was—this doesn’t mean you’re not good enough, Eris.”

“Then what does it mean, Azriel. Because from where I’m standing—sitting—it means I completely failed.”

“Gach’lilit, failed what? The only one who’s a culprit here is ten feet underground in a pile of ash. Your father is the one who failed you, failed your family but most of all you.”

“How am I supposed to—” his voice breaks, “how am I supposed to care for her, raise her and love her when I struggle to do that for myself most days? Azriel, this isn’t—”

“That’s why I’m here. That’s why you’re here. So when we fall short—because stars, Eris, we will constantly fall short—we have one another to pick up the slack. To pick each other up, dust us off, and send us on our way with a kiss.”

He laughs wetly. “Where did you learn all this wisdom, my love?”

“Zebedee.” He says simply. “He wasn’t my father, not by blood, but he was the father I needed.”

Eris nods with quiet contemplation. “And we’ll be the fathers Mina needs. Not ‘cause we’re blood, but because she’s ours—and we’re hers.”

“Exactly, gach’lilit.” He’s patting the burn salve on gently against the burn, his touch so light, it would be a whisper.

Eris’s hands circle his wrists when he pulls away. “I never meant to insinuate scars mean you’re unworthy, my love. I’m sorry.” He brings them up to his lips, pressing gentle, open mouthed kisses to each place he knows twinges with a dull ache now and then. The palm of his hands, the knobby knuckles of his fingers, the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrists.

Azriel sighs softly, wings shuddering, letting Eris’s lips take the path they want and basking in the warmth they emanate.

“Do you remember,” he says, and Eris glances up through the fan of his copper eyelashes, “the first week or two we had Mina and how she would just cry every time I held her?”

Eris frowns, his lips turning down where they’re pressed against Azriel’s hand. He nods.

“How she cried, and wiggled, and tried to get out of my arms—but every time you held her she would settle down enough to fall asleep.” Azriel casts back his memory to those first few dark weeks—Eris having just come back from his father, scarred and shattered, now deciding to raise a little Illyrian girl with no home, no parents, no living relatives to speak of.

Azriel gives Eris a grimace. “I thought she hated my hands, the feel of them. I thought I’d never be able to hold our daughter because of these.” He gestures to them with his head, fingers twitching in Eris’s grip.

“But,” he whispers, “you told me otherwise. And you didn’t just tell me, you helped find a solution.” He wings flutter gently, rustling the still afternoon air, and Eris’s eyes dip down to his tunic.

A smile quirks his lips. “Who knew infants had such specific fashion tastes.”

“Who knew—you did.” Azriel scoffs a laugh, his head thrown back.

“Well, I didn’t know, it was a guess. I just wanted to fix it.”

“Mhm,” he hums, “so, guess what I’m doing?” He says, holding up the clean bandages with raised brows.

Eris sighs, but he’s smiling and Azriel will count it as a win. Sunshine’s come back, at least for now, and when the clouds come back—because they will—he’ll sit with him then, too.

“Fixing it?” Eris guesses for show, but his soft eyes tell Azriel the truth.

“Yep.” He says, beginning to wrap the cotton gauze around the burn, now shining with ointment. “Because that’s what we do.”

“I fix it when it turns out you need to wear softer clothes, not Illyrian leathers, when holding Mina.” Eris finishes.

“And I fix it when you need your bandages changed—or if you need to sleep on the other side of the bed to be closer to her, to hear her better.” His careful, steady hands press the edges of the bandage down, keen eyes watching Eris for any flicker of pain or discomfort.

“How’s that, too tight?”

Eris leans forward, pressing his lips to his with a sigh Azriel catches and keeps. His arms circling around to rest on Eris’s waist.

“You always do it perfect, love, you know that.”

Azriel’s features twist. “Not always, I remember the first couple times I botched it because I was used to putting bandages on me, not on someone else.”

Eris’s hands run up the length of his arms to his shoulders, hanging loosely around his neck as the tip of his nose nudges against his cheek. “Yes, but you never hurt me.”

“Mm, never.” Azriel says against his mouth. Quiet, a declaration. Not to Eris, because he knows, but after a life of abuse from someone who was supposed to have made that same promise, Azriel didn’t mind vowing it out loud now and then.

It’s easy to bask in each other—the golden sunlight filling the room, warming their sides and arms, making them glow like some ancient, lovely carving of devotion. Eris keeps their foreheads pressed together, and Azril makes sure he’s nowhere near the bandage. Their eyes have fallen closed; whether from exhaustion or contentment, neither know. It remains easy, sitting in silence like this; their cultivated garden, their familiar cluster of stars.

A sharp cry echoes from the bedroom. Loud and wailing, heavy for being the product of such little lungs.

Eris laughs, and his breath brushes against Azriel’s mouth—who can’t help but press forward slightly to kiss him. Eris slips off the counter, a light in his eyes rekindled and Azriel smiles at him warmly.

“C’mon,” Eris says, “we have a little terror to feed.”

Azriel throws his head back in a laugh. Exhausted, drained, completely and utterly dead on his feet; he’s slightly afraid that if he even sees a bed he’ll fall asleep—but there is absolutely no grander part of his life than this. Nothing more luxurious than helping Eris change his bandages. Nothing more simple, but lovely, than watching as the first love of his life coos a soft greeting, and picks up the second to cradle her small body against his chest.

Golden sunlight pools around them, stars of a different kind, and Azriel walks forward to join them.

~~///~~///~~///~~

Alright yay cool they don't make me want to bang my head against a wall at a l l. I know nothing about changing burn bandages please don't come at meeee. The editing for this is rushed because I'm trying to get it out before work lol so I'll fix mistakes when I get back.

I can't believe azris week is almost over???? That's crazy this has been so so fun I'm gonna miss it so much :((

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Spamton X Reader fic Ch1

The stress of election night made me cave and start writing a self-indulgent Spamton x Reader fic...that I was hoping to finish that night but as you can see it took me a bit longer because writing 6k words in one night is hard. T_T

Anyway, he's my entry into the genre of "Reader finds Spamton in a dumpster and takes him home" fics. Maybe there's room for one more in that category? 🥺

Not sure if/when I'll continue working on this but uh. Here y'all go.

(Also sorry I spend the first few paragraphs writing an actual vent post about my actual job adfajdafjdal)

------

Today hasn’t exactly been noteworthy. It’s just another day, like so many you’ve had before. Wake up, trudge over to your desk, sign on to work, pretend you’ve been awake for at least an hour longer than you have been, and rub the sleep out of your eyes while you gnosh on a cereal bar because (as usual) you don’t have time to make anything else before your morning meetings start.

You pay no more or less attention than usual, picking away at your own tasks while two of your coworkers have an in depth discussion on something you probably don’t need to concern yourself with. With your camera off they are left to assume you’re listening just as raptly as they’d wish you to.

The meeting ends and you dive fully into your work. You enjoy programming. The product itself (some productivity-helper app that’s not much different than dozens of others) is not of particular interest to you. You don’t even use it in your personal life--only for checking on work-related things.

You get a ping from a coworker. The dev environment is down. Again. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He heard you do?

You suppress a sigh that he wouldn’t’ve heard through the screen anyway.

You fixed it once, about a year ago, out of desperation. It had been an easy fix but somehow it had been enough to convince people you Knew What You Were Doing, and a couple more fixes later, you found yourself in the unenviable position of “The Guy (gender-neutral)”. 

You close several windows and open several more, your previous task for the day forgotten. Two more people ping you. Did you know the dev environment is down? Yes. Your boss pings you. Did you know? Of course you know.

You dive back into the spaghetti code you still don’t fully understand. The person who wrote it left six months ago. You follow a thread of convoluted logic, only to lose your train of thought when another colleague messages you.

Did you know?

YES.

Line by line, search query after search query, you toil to untangle the mess.

And suddenly find your own code staring you back in the face. The very first fix you’d made had been defective. Impermanent. A flimsy rubber band that had finally snapped.

You frown. You wonder what you’d been thinking when you’d fixed it before. The flaw in your approach seems obvious now. And yet somehow it had been good enough for you to be crowned “The Guy (gender-neutral)”. 

You sure weren’t “The Guy (gender-neutral)” then…but maybe you are now. Or close to it.

A couple more keystrokes and dev is back in business.

…It’s also the middle of the night, your colleagues have signed off, and you forgot to eat dinner. Again.

You crash down from the high of your accomplishment--deflated, hungry, and tired. You message chat that everything’s fixed but you’ll be late tomorrow, and close your work computer.

How had you worked for twelve hours without even noticing? Maybe you like programming more than you thought.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

You rise from your chair with a tired groan, padding out to the kitchen.

…Where you promptly see--and worse, smell--the bag of trash you meant to take out this morning.

“Ugggghhhh…” you groan in disgust and self-pity, your shoulders slumping.

You grumble to yourself in frustration as you pull on your coat, grab the bag roughly by the handles as if it had any more say its fate than you, and proceed to name-drop every one of your coworkers in your mumblings as you make your way down four flights of stairs.

…Only to realize it’s raining. Not exactly a downpour--light enough that you didn’t hear it from your apartment, but heavy enough that you’ll definitely be soaked if you try to get to the dumpster.

Whatever. You’re not lugging the trash bag back up the stairs only to get your umbrella. You were going to change into your PJs while dinner was cooking anyway.

You grit your teeth and cross the dimly lit parking lot to the three-wall, roofless structure that contains the dumpsters and recycling bins. 

The rain in your eyes, the dim lighting, and your own grim determination to be done with your task almost cause you to miss it, but as you’re attempting to dry your hands before stuffing them back in your coat pockets, you see it.

A small white boot sticking out from the gap between the dumpster and the enclosure. You’re not sure what draws you to it--at first you think it’s just an old discarded piece of clothing that fell out of the overflowing bin.

Your gut instinct realizes what your conscious mind hasn’t yet, forcing you to take a step towards it and get a closer look.

Your stomach twists as you realize the boot is definitely still attached to something. At first you think it’s a child, but the figure’s odd proportions dismiss the idea before you can even so much as cry out in alarm.

The head accounts for about a third of the height, and the shoulders are strangely broad, with the legs being rather short in proportion. Though all that is trivial compared to the distinctly inhuman face.

Well…it’s probably meant to be based on a human, you realize, but it certainly isn’t one. The large mouth is fixed in a permanent, uncannily huge grin, and the pointed nose is cartoonishly long. A pair of glasses cover the eyes, the lenses of which are currently dark.

It’s too big to be a doll. A ventriloquist puppet, maybe? The jaw looks articulated in the way that such puppets usually are. Not that you know much about puppets or puppetry.

But you think they’re usually expensive…though price aside, even this scuffed up, damaged figure seems deserving of a fate better than being tossed into some dumpster. You’ve always been the sentimental sort who feels sorry for lost and damaged toys, despite knowing full well that they’re not “real”.

Someone had once believed they were, and then they just…stopped.

You shake off the melancholy thought with a literal shake of your head, flinging raindrops from your hair. 

You crouch down beside the puppet, tucking your hands under its arms and hoisting it up, only to nearly drop it as your grip fumbles. It’s way heavier than you’d expected! You’d assumed ventriloquist puppets were mostly hollow, but this one certainly isn’t. Maybe your assumption had just been wrong?

It’s going to be more of a pain to lug this thing back to your apartment, but well…in for a penny, in for a pound. Or fifty. Whichever.

There’s also something a bit odd about its joints…its limbs don’t flop around as much as you’d expect, but you chalk that up to the joints being partially stuck.

You carry it upright, your arms around its waist while its arms drape over your shoulders. You swear you hear a slight groan from it as you push the stairwell door open with your hip. It must have a voice box? Did puppets usually have those? Either way, the low, droning suggested the batteries were almost dead. 

You finally make it up to your unit. If it hadn’t been raining you’d’ve been drenched with sweat now. As it is, it’s probably still mostly rainwater, but you try not to think about how much of a sweat you worked up carrying the heavy thing upstairs. 

You kick the door shut behind you, flinching when it closes a bit louder than you’d meant it to. You take the puppet to the kitchen, laying it on its back on the counter. Or trying to…one of its hands gets caught on the hood of your jacket. When you reach up to pull it free, you realize the joints of the hand had curled in at some point, gripping the hoodie.

There’s something…off about that, about this whole thing, but…it���s just a puppet…right?

There’s nothing else it could be, really…

You remove your jacket, tossing it over the back of one of the dining chairs for now. There’s really no reason for you to tend to the puppet before yourself, but…

You grab a paper towel and begin wiping the grime and rainwater from its face, occasionally glancing at the darkened glasses that obscure its eyes. What an odd looking thing…but puppets often are.

You can’t quite tell what it’s made of. Wood or plastic are your best guesses but neither of them quite fit. It has the smooth rigidness of plastic but somehow, paradoxically, it also seems somewhat organic and is a bit warmer than you’d expect a rain soaked toy to be. The material’s even a bit malleable. The nose even has a bit of give, you realize as you push on it experimentally, bending it downwards. Foam, maybe?

As you push on the nose, the head abruptly turns away, and another low, rattly moan plays from the voice box.

With a gasp, you quickly pull away. Does…this thing have some kind of mechanism to move on its own? Maybe it’s only meant to look like a puppet, but is actually more of a robotic toy? That would explain the weight, you suppose…

But it certainly adds to the mystery of why anyone would throw it away.

You cup its cheek in one hand as you use the other to wipe some grime from its hair.

Your gaze drifts downward and you realize its clothes should probably be removed and hung up to dry.

…Why does that thought cause your face to heat up? You’ve fixed up old dolls and toys before, with no particular regard for their modesty.

You’re just tired. You’re tired and had a stressful day and it’s making you just a bit silly. That’s all.

You reach down and start attempting to remove the puppet’s blazer. Before you can undo the first button, though, its arm shoots up, its small hand wrapping around your wrist.

“[[ Showroom model only--not available for purchase! ]] [[ Break it you buy it!! ]]” Two audio clips in two different voices play from somewhere within the puppet.

You scream in surprise, pulling back so quickly you accidentally drag the puppet off the counter before it can let go of your wrist. You don’t fare much better as your heel catches on the leg of a dining chair, causing you to land hard on your rear.

You place a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself. There’s a rational explanation for the puppet’s movement on the tip of your tongue, but it flies out the window almost immediately.

The puppet stirs. His glasses go from black to grey static as he lifts a hand to his forehead, struggling to get his bearings. The corners of his mouth are turned down in what you guess must be the closest thing to a frown he can muster with his large, semi-permanent grin. 

“Wh-What the hell…” you breathe in a strained whisper.

“[[ Temp--Temp--Temporarily out of service!! ]]” This audio clip is yet another voice. It sounds like the clip was originally recorded in a peppy, upbeat tone, but the playback is so low and garbled you can’t help but compare it to someone at the brink of death struggling to speak.

The puppet goes limp once again, the grey static on his glasses fading back to black. He’s collapsed on the floor, laying on his side in a growing puddle of rainwater as it slowly runs off his clothes.

You stare at him in stunned silence for several moments.

It’s mechanical. Robotic. A weird toy robot…thing…with low batteries and probably a busted circuit board or two.

It’s not alive.

But why would an expensive toy robot be in the dumpster?

Why would a living puppet be in the dumpster???

Your brain’s just fried from work. You need rest. And probably food. The puppet can wait.

You bite your lip. He’s not alive, but…that’s no reason to just leave him on the floor, right?

You quickly grab one of your fluffy bath towels from the linen closet and wrap the puppet in it, carrying him to the living room and laying him on the couch with far more respect and dignity than a totally-not-alive puppet actually needs, even putting one of your throw pillows under his head.

The rainwater’s going to soak through the towel and you’ll have a damp sofa by the time you finish dinner, but…well. It’ll dry. Whatever.

Still…you take a moment to look him over again as you kneel beside the couch. You place a hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly towards yourself. The grimace from before seems to have relaxed into a fairly neutral smile…you guess that must be his “default” expression.

You brush a few stray locks of hair from his face, then adjust his arms so that his hands are atop his chest--a more comfortable resting position than them splayed haphazardly beside him. As you do, you lightly grip one of his hands. It’s a bit smaller than your own, and the joints are fully articulated, giving it the same range of motion as a human hand.

The hand twitches and you quickly drop it. It lands with a soft thud atop his chest.

Enough silliness. You can look over the puppet once you get your head together.

You go into the bathroom, finally stripping out of your wet clothes and hanging them on the curtain rod to dry before changing into your PJs--some flannel lounge pants and an oversize T-shirt. As you walk back to the kitchen, you glance at the puppet on your couch, but force yourself not to stop and check on him again.

You hope some mac and cheese will pull you out of whatever temporary insanity working for twelve hours straight has inflicted upon you.

*

Spamton stirs as the sound of the soft thudding of a wooden spoon stirring a pot of boiling pasta reaches him.

Where…is he? The towel slides off him as he sits up, and he glances at it curiously, running his thumb over the soft, fluffy fabric. There was never anything this nice in the dumpster, that’s for sure.

But he’s also clearly not in his dumpster. He takes in the sight of your dimly lit apartment, the only light coming from the kitchen.

It doesn’t quite look like any sort of Cyber City apartment he’s ever seen. He can’t quite put his finger on why, but…after a second of thought, the word “mundane” pops into his mind. This place is more mundane than any part of Cyber City he’s ever been to. Though…he supposes he’s really only seen the highest highs and lowest lows…maybe the middle tiers of the city are a bit more mundane. It would make a certain amount of sense, though he can’t help but think the answer’s more complicated than that.

He slides off the couch, looking towards the light spilling from the kitchen.

“Mundane” aside, how’d he get into any apartment? As desperate as he’d gotten, he’d never committed B & E…at least for the purpose of sleeping on some stranger’s couch. And how long has it been since anyone had invited him into their home?

How long has it been since…anything?

Spamton wracks his brain, trying to pull up his most recent memory, whatever he was doing before he ended up here. The last thing he can remember--clearly, anyway--is just sitting in his dumpster in the back alleys of Cyber City, about to doze off.

But…somehow that memory seems like it was from long ago. Weeks, at least. And there are glimpses of something more recent that he can’t quite place.

Green wires.

The rollercoaster, with three carts speeding towards him.

A blue-haired, blue-skinned Lightner.

The latter, he had no idea who they were…and that thought caused a pang of guilt in his chest. They were…important. Why couldn’t he remember?

His gaze drifts back towards the kitchen and he slowly steps towards it.

How do you fit into any of this, he wonders?

*

You’re pouring the pasta and water into the strainer when you hear a sound behind you.

The quiet click of hard-soled shoes on kitchen tile.

You turn to glance behind you, more out of instinct than any expectation to actually see anything.

The puppet is up and walking towards you, a sight so shocking on its own that you don’t even notice the curious, borderline timid expression on his face, nor the way his hands are raised slightly as if to assure you he means no harm.

You wish you’d simply frozen at the sight of him.

Instead, your fatigued, nervous, downright jittery brain panics immediately, spinning fully to face him, despite the pot of boiling water in your hand. Lucky for you it’s nearly empty, but “nearly” is still enough for a decent sized splash to land on your bare forearm.

You cry out in pain, clutching your burned arm to your chest as you collapse onto the floor, your back pressed against the cabinets as you stare wide-eyed at the puppet.

“WOAH !! RELAX [[ valued customer ]]!!” the puppet speaks, his voice far clearer than it had been before. Though there’s still a slight static to it, as if it’s being played over a worn out speaker. “[[ Apologies for the inconvenience ]], I’M NOT--”

Spamton cuts himself off when he realizes you’re now staring down at your burned arm. Your hands are shaking as you stare at your blistering skin, tears of pain--and probably fear--welling in your eyes.

“[[ It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns! ]]”

Your gaze snaps back to him. “What?!” you yelp, incredulous despite the bizarreness of the situation. Why’s he acting like he’s the one who got burned?

No sooner than the thought enters your head than you notice his slack expression, his glasses once again going staticy. But once again, things seem to pivot on a dime and he snaps out of it so fast you wonder if you weren’t just seeing things.

“SORRY!!” he says, holding up his hands. “DIDN’T MEAN TO [[ all kinds of surprises!! ]] YOU!!”

Spamton steps towards you and you shrink back against the cabinets. He takes the hint and backs off, still holding up his hands. After a brief pause, he snaps his fingers, and to your utter astonishment, a miniature, cherub-like version of himself appears and flitters towards you.

You’re too stunned at the sight to even consider pulling away, your jaw going slack as you watch the little creature land weightlessly on your arm and gently pat the blistering, reddening skin. A wave of green sparkly lights washes over your injury and the burns, along with the cherub, disappear.

A one word question echoes in your mind and you can’t help but speak it aloud in a strained, wavering voice.

“Magic…?”

Spamton dips his head in a nod. He holds up a hand, and the cherub reappears, perching on his finger and giving you a little wave. “YEP! JUST A [[ simple, one-stop solution ]] FOR [[ all your routine medical needs ]],” he says, dismissing the cherub with a wave of his hand. He hesitates, then steps towards you again. When you don’t flinch away, he closes the distance between you two, lightly touching your arm.

“NO MORE [[ It Burns! ]]?”

“U-Uhm,” you stammer. The way his voice sounds so pained when switching to the “It Burns” line is unnerving…you guess it’s just a soundbyte, that he’s not actually feeling the pain or distress the voice line suggests. His expression certainly seems to hold genuine concern, despite the semi-permanent smile. “Y-Yeah…I…” You glance down at his hand on your arm.

He really did heal it. Just like that. The pain and blistering just…gone in an instant. You’d guess you were dreaming, but…there’s no way you’d sleep through such intense pain, imagined or not.

“You…do magic,” you say weakly. The laugh you let out borders on manic. “I mean sure, why wouldn’t you do magic?”

Either he doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it, for he takes a step back, grinning and puffing out his chest. “WHY NOT INDEED? SPAM   SPAMTON G. SPAMTON [[ #1 Rated Salesman 1997 ]] IS A MAN OF [[ dozens of unique skills ]]!” he declares.

“S-Spamton? That’s…your name?” you ask.

He grins, pointing at you while a DING DING DING chime plays, his glasses lenses switching colors on every beat. “AND [[ who do I have the pleasure of speaking to? ]]”

You tell him your name, still dazed.

He stays silent, canting his head and looking up at you uncertainly, seemingly waiting for you to recover.

“Wh-What are you?” you blurt abruptly.

Spamton blinks, but far from being offended at the question, he tosses his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The cadence is a bit faster than a human would typically laugh, almost like the rapid fire of a machine gun…but as laughs go it’s far from unpleasant. “[[ Doll ]] I WAS JUST ABOUT TO [[ Ask Away! ]] YOU THE SAME THING!!”

You blink. “Um. I-I’m…a human. Surely…you’ve seen humans before?”

“OF COURSE!! [[ And don’t call me Shirly ]],” he quips. “BUT I’M NOT SEEING ANY [[ Heart-shaped Object ]].”

“H-Heart shaped object?” you repeat, absently rubbing at your chest. You assume he’s not talking about your actual heart.

“YOU’RE NO DARK >n3R…NOT A LIGHT >n3R EITHER?” he asks, canting his head curiously.

“I-I…I mean I guess not, not that…that I know of?” you say helplessly.

You’re a bit surprised he’s the one questioning you. It hadn’t occurred to you that he’d be just as confounded by his situation as you are.

“IS THIS THE DARK WORLD OR LIGHT WORLD?”

You stare blankly. “I…I don’t know? Neither, I…I think?”

“SO THEN��WH    WHERE IN THE [[ Tri-County Area ]] AM I?”

You stammer a moment, not even sure what sort of answer he’d want for that. “M-My apartment?” you say inanely. At his deadpan, unimpressed look you tell him the name of your city, and when that doesn’t ring a bell, you add your state.

He frowns, tapping his chin with one hand.

“Where are you from, then?”

“CYBER CITY, IN THE DARK WORLD.”

“Doesn’t sound like any place near here…I-Is it…really an entirely different world?”

“[[ Survey Says: ]] YES.”

It’s as likely as anything else. Living puppet with healing magic…why not add world-hopping on top of that at this point?

“[[ You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? ]]”

“I…don’t know. I mean, I found you in a dumpster and brought you up here. I have no idea where you were before that…”

“BROUGHT ME [[ all the way up ]] HERE? WHY?”

“I um. Well,” you shift uncomfortably. “I…uh, thought you were a toy or puppet or something…”

“TOY NO, PUPPET YES,” he says. As he admits it, his glasses briefly go staticy and his smile fades, but he quickly shakes it off. “SO, DUMPSTER DIVING FOR [[ marketable goods ]], EH?” he chuckles.

“N-No! It was just--” You bite back your protest. You probably should have just said yes. It’s probably less silly than your real reason. At his expectant look, you feel your cheeks heat up. “I-I just…I like…fixing up old toys and it’s just…k-kinda…sad to see them get abandoned…and you just seemed too--” You cut yourself off again. You should have stopped a sentence or two ago, but once again Spamton is looking at you curiously and you feel compelled to complete your statement. “--F-Fancy…to just…be tossed in some landfill…”

You can see his eyes blink in surprise behind his glasses. His slightly open mouth closes with an audible clack and he chuckles. “WELL I AM A BIT OF A [[ Mr. Fancy-Pants ]]...OR AT LEAST I WAS,” he adds, his grin seeming to fade slightly.

A beat of silence passes as he seems to get lost in his own head for a moment, and you think you start to see bits of static appearing in his glasses. The corners of his mouth start to droop as his smile fades.

“W-Well, nothing a bit of mending won’t fix, right?” you say, assuming he’s only referring to his torn up suit and some of the scuffs on his face and hands.

Spamton snaps out of whatever trance he’s in, looking at you in confusion for a moment before his previous smile returns. 

“...RIGHT. WELL, ANYWAY [[ doll ]], THANKS FOR THE [[ solid assist ]] BUT IT’S ABOUT TIME I [[ hit the road ]].”

You blink. “Um. What?”

He raises a brow. “[[ Hit the road ]], [[ Make like a tree and leaf ]], [[ head off into the sunset in your brand-new cungadero ]]?”

You can’t help but blurt out an incredulous, “To where?” Your cheeks warm and you glance away awkwardly, rubbing your arm. “I-I mean, n-not that it’s any of my business, but…a minute ago you didn’t even know what world you’re in…”

Spamton stares at you a moment before throwing his head back in another laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHA!!” You can’t help but notice the laugh seems a bit forced. “[[ Doll ]], DON’T YOU KNOW A TRUE [[ #1 Salesman 1997 ]] WILL [[ never give up, never surrender!! ]]?”

You finally manage to give a weak smile. “Well…that’s all well and good, but…do you even have a plan?”

“DO YOU?”

“Heh,” you chuckle nervously. “N-Not…a super long term one, but…I’d uh…I’d…feel bad sending you away like this…drenched and dirty with nowhere to go…”

His head tilts slightly to one side as he regards you. “WILLING TO MAKE A [[ Specil Deal ]], [[ doll ]]?”

You blink at his phrasing. “I…don’t know about a deal, but…I-I mean…you can…crash here for tonight? Get washed up, dry your clothes at least?”

“AND WHAT”S THE [[ payment method required ]]?”

“No payment!” you say quickly. “Just…”

“[[ Complimentary service ]]?”

You laugh slightly. “Exactly.”

He considers, rubbing his chin as he tries to figure out what possible catch there could be. Finally, he holds out a hand. “[[ Terms & Conditions Accepted !! ]]”

You let out a more earnest laugh, nodding. “Alright, Spamton,” you say, wrapping your hand around his and giving a hearty handshake.

Spamton steps back, glancing around at the mess you’d made. The pan had clattered to the floor, and there was a puddle of spilled water and a few stray noodles on the floor. Luckily dinner itself is salvageable--the majority of the noodles are still safely in the strainer in the sink.

“[[ Tired of cleaning up after dinner? Why not let -- ]] YOUR [[ good pal ]] SPAMTON TAKE CARE OF THAT?” he offers, going over to pick up the pan, handing it to you as you finally get to your feet.

“Thanks, but…” You lift your gaze past him, seeing the muddy footprints he’s tracked into the kitchen. You smile weakly. “Maybe you should get yourself tidied up first? The bathroom’s just down the hall, I can finish up in here while you shower?”

He follows your gaze to the dirt he’s tracked into the kitchen, then smiles up at you sheepishly. “GOOD POINT. BUT WHY DON”T WE [[ get the best of both worlds ]]?” He snaps his fingers, and two cherubs appear. They smile cutely at you before one of them flies down to the ground to begin gathering the spilled noodles and the other pulls the towel off the oven handle and drapes it over the puddle.

“Heh…s-sounds good…” you say, once again caught off guard by his ability to just…manifest helpful little creatures.

The cherubs finish cleaning while you shake the last of the water from the pasta strainer, rinse out the pan, and start mixing the cheese in with the noodles.

They finish the cleanup before you finish the cooking, and all you have to do is open the cupboard so they can toss the floor noodles away.

“Um, thanks guys?” you say uncertainly.

Their little grins get even wider at your praise and they perch on the edge of the stove, watching you stir the noodles.

You notice they seem to be watching a bit…intently. Their heads bop slightly as they track the motion of the spoon, the reflective pink and yellow lenses on their glasses making it hard to read their expressions.

“Hey uh…m-maybe this is a weird question…” Though you wonder if anything’s a weird question when posed to a pair of tiny puppet cherubs summoned by a magic living puppet from another world. “D’you two…get hungry?”

Their attention perks to you so raptly that you have to assume the answer is a firm yes.

You chuckle weakly at that, scooping out a spoonful of noodles and blowing on it. “D’you like mac and cheese?”

They nod eagerly, making a squeaky trilling sound as they abruptly take off towards the spoon.

“H-Hey! Careful, it’s hot!” you say, holding up a hand to try to block them before they burn themselves.

Your attempt fails, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They dart around your hand and perch on either side of the spoon, greedily shoving the cheesy noodles into their mouths. If the heat is even remotely uncomfortable to them, they’re not showing any sign of it.

“Guess you were hungry…” you say, amused. You grab a piece of paper towel and wrap it around your finger, wiping the cheese from their faces. They make a faint sound of protest, the red on their cheeks growing a bit redder at your attention.

You set the spoon aside and turn the stove to low to keep the food warm. “I’d better check on Spamton,” you say to the cherubs.

As you walk down the hall to the bathroom, you hear the shower switch off and the door opens. A faint cloud of steam emerges, followed closely by Spamton.

One of your hand towels is wrapped around his waist and the other is around his shoulders. He’s using the corner of said towel to wipe the steam from his glasses lenses. Locks of damp hair fall across his forehead and cling to his neck and shoulders, a few droplets running down his bare chest.

His shoulders are wider than you’d expected--seems his blazer isn’t as padded as you’d assumed. His whole frame on the stocky side, and he has a slightly protruding gut that hadn’t really been noticeable under his blazer.

You wish you could blame the cloud of warm steam for your burning face.

“HEY [[ doll ]], WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE A [[ clean-pressed ]] [[ size L T-shirt ]] I COULD BORROW? MY BLAZER IS--” He places his glasses back on his face and cuts himself off when he notices you staring.

A beat of uncertain silence passes before you snap out of it. “Oh! U-U-Uh--Of course!” you squeak. “L-Let me just grab that for you!” you say quickly. You duck into your bedroom without waiting for a response, grabbing one of a large T-shirt and a pair of boxers. You’re not sure how well either will fit him, but you’ve got nothing better to offer right now.

When you get back to the bathroom, he’s standing on the counter in front of a portion of the mirror he’d wiped the fog from. He’s helped himself to one of your combs and is brushing his damp hair from his face.

You try not to look him in the eye--or anywhere else--as you pass him the clothing.

“THANKS, [[ doll ]]!” he says brightly.

You nod, mumbling some lame excuse about needing to check on the food before scurrying back to the kitchen.

When you get there, you see the cherubs have been busy. The table’s been set, and they’ve even taken a couple throw pillows from the couch and piled them on one of the chairs for Spamton. Glancing into the living room, you notice they even refolded the towel Spamton had been wrapped in.

“Oh, thanks guys!” you say, earning another set of happy squeaks from the little pair.

You busy yourself with dishing out the macaroni, and by the time you’re done, Spamton’s emerged from the bathroom.

The PJs you lent him are…suitable. They hang a bit awkwardly on him, but given how different your body shapes are it’s a miracle you had anything that was even remotely wearable for him.

“THANKS AGAIN FOR THE [[ brand-new threads ]] AND [[ hearty, nutritious dinner ]]!” he says, effortlessly hopping up onto the chair and taking his seat. He looks at the bowl of macaroni before him and hesitates, looking up at you uncertainly…perhaps even guiltily. “AND…YOU”RE SURE ALL THIS IS [[ complimentary service ]]?” 

“Sure,” you say easily. “The little guys certainly seemed hungry…I’m…guessing you are too?”

Spamton gives the two cherubs--who are now sitting on the table between you two--a disapproving look. “MANNERS,” he says, pointing the spoon at them accusingly.

You laugh, waving a hand. “Oh no, they were very polite!” you say. A bit overeager, and a bit messy in their own eating, but in your mind all the extra cleaning they did more than makes up for it.

“GOOD,” he says, waving a hand. And with that, the two cherubs disappear, leaving only a few green sparkles in their wake.

“Oh…you didn’t have to send them away…” you say.

Spamton chuckles. “THEY WERE SLEEPY.”

You give a bemused laugh. “I…see. You’d know best I suppose,” you concede. “I’ve never even seen magic before today…”

He glances up in surprise. “NO? NOT EVER?”

“Not real magic, no. Not like…healing burns and conjuring cherubs,” you say.

“MINITONS,” he corrects.

“Pardon?”

“MINITONS. MINI SPAMTONS,” he clarifies with a playful smirk.

“Oh!” you laugh. “That’s…actually kinda cute,” you say.

Spamton gives you a wry look. “IT’S MEANT TO BE [[ concise and informative ]], NOT [[ adorable ]],” he says, though despite his look he sounds more amused than exasperated.

“It can be both,” you retort.

“IF YOU INSIST,” he says with a good natured eye roll.

The conversation ceases as he digs into his meal. His manners are much better than the Minitons of course, but he can’t completely hide the urgency with which he eats…though he does decline your offer of seconds, you sense it’s more out of a sense of guilt at how much you’ve given him than him actually being full.

And possibly being too tired to eat any more. Even with his glasses you can see his eyelids starting to droop by the time he drops his spoon into the empty bowl. But as soon as you get up and make as if to take the dishes to the sink, he snaps back to life.

“WAIT!!” he says, hopping up to stand on his chair, grabbing his bowl before reaching up and taking yours out of your hand. “SINCE YOU COOKED [[ delicis 5-Star meal ]] I’LL [[ cleans and polishes your dishes with a sparkling shine, guaranteed no food residue ]]!!” He grins up at you. “IT’S THE [[ bare minimum as required by law ]].” He blinks at the last part of the statement, his smile turning markedly sheepish. Apparently those little phrases don’t always come out sounding quiiiiite how he wants.

You take it in stride, laughing. “It’s alright, Spamton, really.”

“I INSIST!” he insists, hopping down from his chair and pushing it towards the sink.

“W-Well…I suppose it’s fair…I’ll get the couch set up for you, then,” you say, assuming he’ll want to turn in for the night after he finishes the dishes.

*

Spamton isn’t sure why you’re so keen on helping him, but…he also can’t afford to say no. He assumes he’ll be on his way tomorrow…even though he still doesn’t have an answer to the question you posed earlier.

To where?

He has no idea how to get back to the Dark World, and he gets the feeling he’s not exactly going to fit seamlessly into this one.

If he were more awake, anxiety would be gnawing at him, but even his anxieties are too tired for that right now.

He finishes the dishes, and despite his fatigue he does get them spotless as promised.

He hops down from the chair, forgetting to push it back to the table, and trudges tiredly into the living room.

Spamton stops, staring in surprise at what he sees.

Apparently your couch has a pullout bed, which you’ve set up with two blankets and a couple plush pillows, despite the fact that the couch itself had been more than big enough for him to sleep on. Hell, he could have scraped by with just one of those pillows to curl up on for the night.

“ALL THIS FOR [[ lil’ ol’ me ]]?” he asks, stunned as you finish fluffing the second pillow and toss it into place.

You shrug. “Sure, why not? I got a pullout couch for a reason,” you say. “Besides, the cushions were still damp, and the mattress is a bit more comfortable, I think.”

Spamton looks up at you uncertainly, his mouth opening and closing a couple times. Insisting that the couch is fine would only mean you having to re-fold the pullout bed. He runs a hand over the soft blankets, far cleaner and softer than any bedding he’s had in a long time. “[[ …thank you… ]]”

Your cheeks warm at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “No problem, Spamton…” you say softly. “I-I’ll um…see you in the morning, then?”

He hops onto the bed, scooting to the pillow and pulling the blanket back. “YES. OF COURSE, [[ doll ]].”

You nod, readily giving him his space and heading to your own room and climbing into your own bed.

You’d said he could stay for the night, but in reality, you have the same doubts Spamton does…and if anything, you have a more realistic idea of how unrealistic it is for him to just…leave and make his way in the world.

A conversation to have over breakfast, you suppose.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

hello! im a newby gimaker and i want to follow your tutorial on sharpening but i dont know how you got to the photoshop page you started from where it looks like a video timeline. can you tell me how you got there? <3

Hey!!

Welcome to the wonderful world of gifmaking <3 yes i can lead you through to that point. I have a mac so this might look different for you, but all the steps stay the same - I just shifted from windows to mac so i know this xD

I'm going to show you how to do this on this gif:

I prefer to use screenshots for my gifs (I also don't know how else to make them), so I use Mplayer for that. I used to use MPV player but that stopped working with my new computer system.

First, you want to make sure that you're using a high-quality file. If 1080p is available to you, use 1080p at the very least. This will make sure your gifs are crisp and sharp.

Open your file with Mplayer. Then find the bit that you want to gif. I sometimes search forward by frame by using the ">" key. Once you're at the start point of your desired gif, pause the video. Then, Cmd/Ctrl + Shift + S to start screenshotting. The video will start to play slowly as the screenshots are captured. (They go to the desktop automatically but you can change that in interface settings).

The rest of the tutorial is under a cut:

Once you get your screenshots, you're going to go Photoshop. File > Scripts > Load Files Into Stack.

You're going to get a dialogue box. Click Browse and load the screenshots that you want. This is what that looks like when you finish:

Next, you're going to crop your gif, using the crop tool. You can press C on your keyboard for this or use the tool with this icon in the sidebar.

For this, I'm using an aspect ratio of 540 x 400:

Click that checkmark to crop. Once you do, we're going to resize the image. Use the Cmd/Ctrl + I function to bring up this box. For tumblr gifs, you want to change the width. The height doesn't really matter but if the width doesn't match up, Tumblr is going to fix it for you and it'll look funky. Per row:

1 gif , we use 540px

2 gifs, 268px each

3 gifs, 177, 178, 177 px

We're just doing one, so I'm using 540px.

Now, you want to make sure you can add the timeline. In the top bar, go to Window > Timeline

This will bring up the timeline.

From there, click "Create Frame Animation" (you might have to press the arrow in the timeline bar first.)

It's going to look like this:

We're going to use those three lines in the corner of the picture above. The first option we'll select is "Make Frames From Layers"

That looks like this:

Now, when these load in, you may notice that they're all in reverse. To make them go back in order, we're going to go back to that menu and click "Reverse Frames."

Then, in that same menu, click "Select all Frames." We're going to change the animation speed. You want to make sure you have the first frame selected. We're going to click the arrow next to the "0 sec"

When you click that, it will give you a menu. Click, "other..." You should get a dialogue box that says "Set Frame Delay", just like the one below.

You want to use anywhere between 0.05-0.1 seconds. I find that anymore more is just too slow, so I prefer 0.06. This is fully changeable at the end of my sharpening tutorial, and you can use what you want, but that's what I prefer.

When you do that, it'll change the frame speed of all the gifs.

Now, go back into that little menu, and click, "Convert to Video Timeline."

This is what it'll look like:

Now we're going to select all the layers in the right-hand pane. Once we do that, right-click and select, "Convert to Smart Object."

And you're there! Now you can use the sharpening tutorial to your liking.

Pro tip: Make an action with all these steps so you don't have to do them by hand with every single gif you make.

Hope this helps and it wasn't super long winded. Let me know if you have any questions <3 Happy giffing!

[ninlilwinds]

Reader who is shy about Physical touch

Characters: Dating- Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Ayato, | Crush- Thoma, Childe

A/N: So I tried staying gn, but I may have included some she/hers so if you catch any, let me know and I'll fix it.

Genre: Mainly fluff

You and our boyfriend, Diluc, walked around MOnstadt city. It was one of the few days he was free from work, and you both enjoyed this time quite a bit. Usually, you’d walk around nature, avoiding all the hillichurl hotspots, and simply talk. But, today, you had both decided to walk around the city.

Diluc reached down and intertwined your fingers, causing you to tense. He raised an eyebrow and looked over to where your face was flushed bright pink. Diluc couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at how cute you were, “What’s the matter, my dearest?” 

You shook your head, swallowing hard before your voice came out squeaky, “Nothing.” 

You knew no one was particularly looking at you, but you felt as though all eyes were on you. Who was this commoner holding hands with MOnstadt’s most wanted (ex) bachelor? It was a bit embarrassing and it made you nervous.

Diluc soon caught on and slipped his hand away, keeping your pinkies intertwined, “Better?”

You blushed, not meeting his gaze, who searched you face for any further discomfort, “Yes.” 

He smiled and continued walking around, talking like normal as you prayed he wouldn't notice how much darker your blush had gotten.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date Kaeya. He was a flirt, a tease, and he was proud of it. He knew he could make anyone’s knees shake with a mere brush of his hand. 

Thus far, he had let you have your space, and never initiated anything. You hadn’t kissed, hugged, held hands. It pained him just a little bit, but you were the one person he didn’t want to make uncomfortable. 

You were in the privacy of your home. He had come over for a small little dinner date you had planned for him. He started catching on that you would never initiate, and with the romantic environment and how beautiful you looked, how could he not kiss you? 

The lighting was set lower to allow the candlelight to set a more romantic mood. The moon peaked in from your window, making your hair shine. Your cheeks were slightly flushed and your eyes were full of joy from your time with him. He resisted his urge, until after dinner. You were both sitting on your balcony, looking out into the mountains and the clear night sky. 

His arm came around your shoulders, which you tensed a bit on and shifted slightly. He noticed this and frowned a little, “(Y/n)?”

You opened your mouth to talk, but no words came out. Clearing your throat you tried again, “Y-yes?” 

“Do you not like when I touch you?” 

Uh oh. He had gotten the wrong idea. You cursed yourself for getting flustered so easily, “N-no! I love it I-I just…get a little shy…” you mumbled.

Kaeya smirked and glanced over at you. As if you weren't already cute enough, now you are shy too? He leaned down and pecked your lips in a chaste kiss, causing your face to explode in blush. 

He couldn't hold back his chuckle and he snuggled his face into your neck placing a sweet kiss and leaning his head on your shoulder.

You knew your dear bard was very touchy, especially when drunk. He noticed you were a bit shy on touch, so he didn't push you or anything, just gave you a hug here and there and maybe placed a kiss on your cheek as he walked by you. Small things that still caused you to blush, but did not cause you to have a brain error. 

But, that all changes when you come to pick up a drunk Venti from the tavern. He had had a particularly good day of singing and got paid quite a bit. The only tavern he would go to is Dilu’s since he was the only one who would sell the young looking god drinks. He had a little too much to drink as you stepped into the bar.

“Windblume!” He slurred a little walking over to you and crushing you with a hug. He reeked of alcohol. He buried his face into your neck, placing several kisses there and whispering, “You smell nice.” into your ear. Your face was already red, since he hugged you, but this was making your legs shake, as his loud voice drew the attention of several people in the bar. 

“L-lets go home Venti.” You dragged him out of the bar. As soon as you were outside, you let him lead you towards a bench. The night was calm, the only noise was the sound of the cheery drunks over at the bar. Venti laid his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes, “I wanna cuddle tonight.” he stated with a pout.

“You smell too bad.” You didn't meet his eyes, too embarrassed by all that’s happened.

He hugged your waist and pulled you closer whining, “Pleaseeeeee. I wanna be close to you!” his face was flushed from the alcohol and he put on puppy eyes.

You sighed and mumbled an ok as you urged him to get up so you can finally go home. 

He wasn’t one to use physical touch to express love, he preferred acts of service, gifts, and quality time. So it wasn’t something he noticed until much later in your relationship. You were both lounging around on one of his free days. YOu were on his bed, reading a book, snuggled under the blankets on a chillier day. Ayato was organizing his bookshelf when he looked over to where you were snuggled under the blankets. You looked adorable bundled into the blankets. He chuckled and took his shoes off, walking around and sitting next to you, leaning over to read along with you.

You were fully concentrated, so you didn’t notice him until he grabbed the book from you and held it in the center so you could both read better, “This book is quite interesting.” 

The hand holding the book rested on your thigh and your shoulders were touching. Your cheeks reddened and you scooched away, nodding with a quiet “yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow and then used his free hand to turn your face over to face him, “is everything alright, my love?’’ 

You nodded and he brushed hair from your face, “Let me know if you want me to give you space.” He went back to reading the book with you, although your head was mush by now.

You and Thoma had been living together for a while, roommates. He loved being your roommate and helping you with anything and everything. When you came home from work, you had a nice warm meal awaiting you with a smiling Thoma wearing a pink apron.

Your house was always clean thanks to him, and he would also help you when you were sick, like right now.

You were laying in bed with a fever when thoma came in with a bowl of soup and a tray of medicines. He sat down at the edge of your bed and helped you sit up. You coughed as you thanked him for the meal and medicines. 

He hated seeing you this sick. It pained him, wishing he could be sick for you. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against you, causing your cheeks to heat up even more as you chokes on the food, “Th-Thoma??” your eyes were wide.

He smiled, “Just seeing how your fever’s doing.” He parted from you and nodded, “Still there, but it’s better.” 

Lies, all he wanted was to be able to be close to you. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone but himself, but he had a huge crush on you. Your reactions were always adorable. Your face  would always flush a pretty shade of pink and your eyes widened which he enjoyed seeing. 

You thought the forehead thing was a hallucination for a long time, until Thoma brought it up one day…boy was that an awkward conversation for you (Thoma enjoyed it quite a bit).

This man has a crush on you. A huge one. Will he hide it? No. No he won’t. He won’t outright say it, but he’ll give enough hints. Everyone else around you had pretty much caught on, except for you. You just thought Childe was very friendly. 

You also had a crush on Childe, so every time he would hug you, grab your hand, pin you to the wall to “check your reaction time”, and such your brain would malfunction. One time, out in the busy streets of Liyue city, he grabbed your hand and kissed it as a greeting. You looked around to see if anyone was staring, cheeks red, “Ch-childe!!” You whisper screamed with a slight whimper at the embarrassment you felt. You fidgeted nervously as he smirked at your reaction, what a cutie.. 

“Yes, my dear (Y/n)?” 

“There’s p-people..” You hid your face with your hair and tried to calm down. 

“Let them see how much ily, then.” He hooks his arm over your shoulders, you were trying to get away or hide the whole time, you face growing redder and redder (Until Zhongli found you and saved you from any further physical touch)

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Odette x Velvette - Juliet and Juliet in Hell

Chapter 02: Mother‘s Smothering Love

The spell of the stars faded as the crimson morning dawned. In the red glow and the last light of the lanterns, Odette stalked around the gated Carmine compound with her sister in close tow. Towering bars blocked their way onto the grounds, cameras from the security system rotated and through reddish lenses their mother kept a watchful eye over hell outside her gates.

"Hurry!" Odette demanded of her sister. No cameras could catch the two shadows, which squeezed with practiced ease through the concealed gap between heavy iron and slipped swiftly alongside the walls of the mansion.

Their mother hadn't been back from work for dinner last night, hopefully she had fallen asleep at her desk in her office. Odette prayed to Lucifer before slowly, without a sound, lifting the unlocked living room window. Carefully, she climbed through the opening. Her boots landed silently on the parquet floor before she helpfully held her hand out to her sister.

"We're like ninjas, aren't we?" Clara heaved herself over the windowsill with a heavy groan. Her voice slurred by intoxication, the strong smell of cigarette smoke in her hair and her vision hazy. Her balance wavered and fatigue gnawed at her consciousness. If her sister's warm hands hadn't grabbed her by her shoulders and stopped her fall, she would have smashed nose first onto the parquet floor.

"Keep it down!" Odette whispered annoyed, while Clara staggered to her feet. She looked around anxiously and adjusted her glasses on the tip of her nose again and again, a nervous habit.

"Excuse me, my dearest sister, I'm really desperately trying my best here..." Clara protested indignantly.

Suddenly the ceiling lights above their heads sparked to life with an electric crackle.

"Oh, shit!" Clara cursed as the two sisters flinched in shock at the sight of their mother.

Carmilla Carmine, heavy dark circles under her eyes and a dangerously smoldering stare, stood in the doorway with a cup of tea in her hands. "Clara, language… That's a choice of words you know I won't tolerate in my house..." she admonished her youngest daughter. The calm tone of her voice was deceptive, her words trembled with a subliminal anger on her tongue.

"Excuse me, Mom..."

Porcelain hit wood. Tea spilled over the brim and the spoon thumped as Carmilla put her cup down. The stern scowl on her face turned to stone. With both arms crossed in front of her chest, she stood in front of her daughters. "Where have you two been all night?"

Clara and Odette hung their heads in shame. Silence fell over them.

"I expect an answer from you," Carmilla demanded. "Where have you two been all night?" she repeated her question.

"We were just at a party..." whispered Odette. She felt Clara's hand searching blindly for hers and grabbed it. With their heads hung low and their eyes fixed on the parquet floor, the two sisters avoided meeting their mother's eyes. "Nothing's happened..."

"Nothing happened, really?" Carmilla cocked her eyebrows cynically. "I come home from a hard day's work in the middle of the night, only to have to worry about my irresponsible daughters the next minute. Your two beds, empty! The whole house, deserted! The living room window, open! I've tried calling you a hundred times, but I've not been able to reach any of you! Do you understand how worried I've been about you?"

"We..." Clara sighed sourly. "I mean, I... I didn't think you'd be home so early. I thought you were going to spend the night at the company, night shift or whatever, and I really wanted to have some fun while you were away... You... You can't punish Odette for sneaking out of the house too, Mom. She was at the party to get me back."

"Who’s party was that?" Carmilla asked her youngest daughter.

Clara shook her head. "Not important!" she claimed.

"Who’s party was that?"

"It was..." Clara hesitated. She glanced towards her sister for help. "It was a party of the three Vees..."

Carmilla gently massaged her aching temples, a migraine and her sleepiness starting to catch up with her.

Why did it had to be a party of the three Vees, those inane and smug gangster wannabes?

"And neither of my two daughters thought to call me or leave me a note with a message? Anything?"

"We didn't think you'd be home so early, Mother..." Odette repeated her sister's words.

"This isn't a fun game," Carmilla lectured her daughters. "This is Hell. You two are my daughters, the daughters of an Overlord. Do you realize the risk?" She closed her eyes and groaned gloomily, Clara and Odette nodding their heads in remorse. Carmilla's gaze softened as she pulled her two daughters into a tight hug, worry still lingering in her eyes. "Listen you two, I know I made many mistakes during my lifetime and one of those mistakes caused you and I to lose our lives. I am infinitely sorry and I promised you, as your mother, that I would protect you from all harm in Hell, but how am I supposed to protect you if you sneak out and disappear into the depths of Hell and to a party of the three Vees? I definitely expected better judgment from you..."

"I know... We are sorry, Mother."

"We'll never sneak out without a word again, Mom," Clara promised.

"I hope so for your sake..." Skeptically, she looked her two daughters up and down. Lines of worry creased her forehead, her glowing eyes pierced her daughters strictly. "Now you two will tell me everything about what happened at the Vees' party tonight. I want to know all of it and no lies, I will know immediately if my daughters are lying to me."

An obedient nod from Clara and Odette followed.

"And... And then Odette kissed Velvette!" Clara finished her story with wild gestures.

"Clara!" complained Odette. "Tell me, are you insane-"

"Odette!" Carmilla interrupted her in disbelief. She stared at her oldest daughter in shock. "You did what?" she demanded to know. Odette had to repeat her sister's sentence, because at that moment she didn't trust her own ears or own mind. Maybe she had misheard, because otherwise she would surely go crazy. "You kissed Velvette?" Shock slowly gave way to anger in her voice.

"No!" Odette quickly shook her head. Caught in the crosshair of her mother's question, she raised her hands. "I swear, it really wasn't a big deal. It wasn’t a kiss, it was just a quick peck on Velvette's cheek..."

"I don't care about that! I know Velvette well enough. Velvette is an insolent brat, and I don't want my daughter getting involved with someone like her. It's bad enough that you two snuck out, but then this kiss? Obviously I can't trust your judgment at all, Odette," Carmilla yelled. Carmilla usually never yelled. Anger burned in her eyes, flames flickered and the red dawn fell upon the living room.

"Please, you're overreacting, Mother!", Odette tried desperately to defend herself. "That kiss was meaningless, it was really nothing... She helped me and I thanked her..."

"No, I'm not overreacting. The Vees are definitely dangerous, and I don't want my daughter anywhere near Velvette! Velvette would never help anyone without an ulterior motive..." Carmilla inhaled. "This discussion is over..." she decided, "Go to your rooms and to bed. I don't want to hear any backtalk or a single word from you about Velvette for now. We'll talk more about this later this afternoon after the Overlord meeting... When we've all calmed down..."

"Yes, Mother..." sighed Odette.

Silently, the sisters slipped out of the living room under their mother's stern gaze.

"I'm so sorry..." sputtered Clara.

Chapter 03:

[losfacedevil]

Darkness of the Night (4)

CATCH UP ON HIS STORY HERE

Meet Samuel, the resident Vampire of New Shoreham… and come along on the journey of his wild life in the afterlife

Sam pulled a deep breath in through his nose and rolled his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the tension that was building in his muscles as the sign for the diner came into view. He began to run the conversation he needed to have with Marjorie over in his head one last time, not wanting to trip over his words when the time to broach the subject finally came. 

The phantom feeling of his heart pounding in his chest was beginning to irk him, knowing full well the organ failed to actually beat any longer. Sam swallowed hard and slowly made his way to the front door, wrapping his hand around the pull bar style handle and watched as he knuckles turned white against the force in which he held the bar. With one last deep, and calming breath,  he yanked the door open and let himself inside. A huff of relieved breath whooshed past his lips as he found the diner to be empty, thanking whatever higher power there was for working this in his favor. 

Marjorie stood behind the counter, a to-go coffee cup full of what Sam could only assume was piping hot O+ blood and a scowl on her face that would scold even the most innocent of people. He tipped his head in her direction and quickly got to work, noting the dirty plates still sat on the counter top where patrons must have just left not that long ago. 

“Everything okay at home?” Marjorie mused, wanting more insight on the urgent matter that had pulled Sam from work the previous night. His movements stilled, and his gaze found Marjorie’s, one that began to burn a hole into his as she waited for his response. 

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s okay. Josh just didn’t want to babysit her anymore.” Sam rushed out, quickly beginning to scrub a pan that something had been burned onto. He cursed as he sponge began to tear but the caked on food didn’t even budge. Marjorie gave him a once over, still not fully believing someone she created had made such a grave mistake. 

“Is that all? Hmm, by the way you had ran out of here I assumed she’d woken early just like you did. It would be a shame if she devoured your brother as her first feeding, wouldn’t it, Samuel?” She cooed, knowing the use of his full name made his skin crawl. A frustrated huff slipped past Sam’s nose and he slammed the plate he was washing down into the drying rack. 

“How do I fix this? Tell me what to do, Marjorie.” Sam cut right to the chase, the anger settling in his chest beginning to bubble and rise to the surface. Marjorie couldn’t help the laughter that slipped past her lips and she shook her head at her poor, failing fledgling. 

“You better hope her parents have some tough skin. There’s nothing I can do to help.” She shrugged and began to nonchalantly examine her nails, anything to keep her attention off of his face. With a soft shrug of her shoulders she took a few steps forwards and closed the little bit of distance that had been put between them.

“You best have a rock solid explanation foe her parents. Unless you have another idea in mind.” She spoke with authority, jabbing her finger into the middle of his chest. 

“I have to get her out of here, Marjorie. She’s… she’s connected to my brother… the one we no longer speak to.” 

Jakes ears began to pick up the conversation as he slowly descended upon the diner, hovering in the air like that of a helicopter searching for a missing person. He debated staying where he was, hovering just above the roof of the building, and using the skylight as a window inside until his wings tired, or dropping to the ground and hope he wasn’t caught. 

“What do you mean she’s connected to your brother? How is she connected Sam?” Marjorie’s tone began to take on a more concerned sound as she reached over and turned off the running faucet, pulling his attention from the work he was burying himself him. Sam took a deep breath and reached up, grabbing the hand towel off of the hook and slowly began to dry his hands.

“She’s… his mate… I screwed up fucking royally.” Marjorie’s eyes widened and she snatched the now dampened hand towel out of Sam’s hands. Raising her arm she brought it down against his head and the damp fabric began to sting his skin. 

“HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW SHE’S YOUR BROTHERS MATE?!” Marjorie all but yelled, continuing to wail on Sam with the hand towel. Sam took the beating he was being given knowing he fully deserved this one. 

“We don’t talk to him anymore, how was I to know the girl who randomly strolled in here at 8 o’clock at night was my brothers mate?!” Sam growled and began pacing the length of the kitchen, trying to wrack his brain for what exactly he was going to do. 

“You can take her to Venice, take her to Darick’s coven, he can help.” She spoke quickly and quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. She knew this was no longer something she could turn into a lesson and quickly jumped into action. 

Jake nodded as he took a mental note of where she was telling Sam to take Vayda, to the coven of a well known vampiric leader. He swallowed hard as his mind began to race, trying to figure out exactly how Sam planned on getting Vayda out of the country when she would be famished the minute she awoke. 

He knew Sam wouldn’t be able to walk her onto a regular airplane, her self control would be next to nonexistent for months after she woke. Jake slowly descended and let his feet rest against the pointed tip of the roof, letting his wings come to a halt and rest for a moment. It was then that the name popped into Jakes head as it slipped past his little brothers lips. 

“I’ll have to take her to Marcelina.” Sam muttered and reached up, threading his fingers through his hair at the thought of his Aunt. 

“Take her to Marcelina’s when she wakes, after she’s had a pint or two to tide her over. Get her to Darick’s in Venice, he’ll know what to do.” Marjorie spoke as the little set of jingle bells over the main door chimed, signaling humans were afoot. 

Jake nodded his head slowly as he took in the information that Marjorie had just given Sam. He wasn’t sure who Marcelina was but he knew all it would take was a single visit to Josh to learn all about this mysterious woman. 

“Marcelina, huh? We’ll see just how much she helps you if I get to her first.” Jake mumbled and tilted his head as he began to levitate and took off flying through the night sky. 

~*~*~

A deep yawn slipped past Josh’s lips as he leaned back against the couch and reached up, running a hand down over his tired eyes. His sleep schedule had been nearly nonexistent, fear of what his fate might be if you were to wake before Sam returned home haunting his thoughts. His ears perked up at the sound of a rustling outside the living room window, Sam’s rose bushes seemingly being trampled on. He pushed himself to his feet and slowly made his way over to the window. 

“Sam I swear to god, now is not the time to be fucking around.” Josh grumbled and reached up slowly, wrapping his fingers around the curtain and pulled it back as quickly as he could. In front of him stood Jake, his hands cupped around the sides of his face and his forehead pressed to the glass. Josh slammed a hand into the middle of the window and startled his twin, causing him to fall backwards into the prickly thorns of the roses. 

“You’re not funny, Jake.” Josh seethed, his anger outweighing the relief that washed over him at the realization that it was just Jake. He watched as Jake pried his fingers under the outer lip of the window and pushed the glass pane upwards, opening the house to the outside world. 

“Marcelina.” Was all Jake muttered, his blood boiling strong enough he could hear it in his ears. Josh raised a brow and shrugged his shoulders, unsure what Marcelina had to do with anything. 

“Where is Marcelina?” Jake posed the question, crossing his arms protectively over his chest as if to protect himself from his familiar. Josh rolled his eyes, knowing full well that him telling Jake where to find Sam’s mystical aunt would result in yet another brawl. 

“I don’t know, Jake. But don’t go messing around with Marci, she’s not pretty when she’s mad.” Jake rolled his eyes, unsure of if Marcelina was human, Fae or Vampire, but knew that he could take on whatever was thrown his way. 

“You’ll be sorry if I find out you know where she is.” Jake mumbled and turned on his heel, expanding his wings and slowly rose into the darkness of the night. 

A sigh slipped past Josh’s lips and he slunk back to the couch, plopping down where he was originally sitting. Scooping his phone up off of the table, he opened a new message to Sam and typed quickly before hitting send and sitting back against the couch, letting his eyes finally flutter shut. 

‘Jakes looking for Marcelina, you best hope he doesn’t find her before you warn her.’ 

Sam’s eyes grew wide as he read the message that Josh had sent him. He began to pace, sliding the phone back into his pocket and reached up to thread his fingers through his hair. Marjorie’s brow raised as her gaze landed on Sam and his panic stricken face. 

“Jakes looking for Marcelina.” 

Until next time…

TAGLIST: @vanfleeter @readyforthegarden @joshsindigostreak @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @dannythedog @stardustvanfleet @devilat-thedoor @the-wicked-gnome @runwayblues @gracev0609 @writingcold @lipstickitty @sunfl0wer-power @allieisacrybaby @jordie-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @slut4lando

[links-in-time]

Links in Time

Part 16

It was difficult to tell how much time had elapsed in their tiny prison. There were no windows to show the sky outside, and Warriors struggled to keep track of how long he had been awake. Maari had only been unconscious for a short time, which he was greatful for. She seemed to have recovered nicely, though her arm was bleeding where she had been cut. It didn't look bad but he wanted to stop the bleeding and get her wound clean as soon as possible.

"What do you think they're waiting for?" Link asked, looking through the bars of their prison cell.

"Don't know, maybe their waiting for their Master to arrive."

"Master?" Link asked with a frown.

"Yeah the Yiga don't have a clan leader they have a Master. I thought the woman who spoke to me when we got here might be their Master, but now I'm not so sure."

"Hello?" A trembling voice called out from the partial darkness.

"Hello?" Maari replied, trying to shuffle nearer to the bars. "Who's there?"

"My name is Lars, I'm a researcher." The voice replied.

Maari and Link exchanged a surprised look.

"Were you working in Hyrule Castle?" Link asked.

"Yes, there were three of us. Now there are only two." The voice sniffed. "The Yiga grabbed us and brought us here."

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. We came here looking for the people who went missing," Maari said, half telling the truth.

"Well you found us. Now what?"

Now what exactly. The Yiga had been thorough when they searched Maari and Link. All their weapons and equipment had been taken. They also took the Purah Pad. Though Maari realised even if she still had it she didn't know how to use it to send messages. They were trapped, with no way out and no help on the way. She and Link had started resigning themselves to their fate. But they had found solice in each other's company, seeing in the other a version of themselves reflected back. A person reaching out but too afraid to hold on.

"That's enough chit chat!" A Yiga guard barked, slapping the bars of their cell with a torch stick. Maari jerked her head back to avoid being hit.

"Why are you keeping us here?" She hissed at the Yiga as they walked past.

"You'll see soon enough. Our Master has great plans for Hyrule." The Yiga replied almost wistfully.

"Alright soldier," another Yiga said, as they approached. "Go and prepare for the ceremony, I'll take over for a while."

The soldier nodded. "Yes Commander Melyn."

Maari's ears pricked up and she couldn't help but stare up at the Yiga who had entered the jail. There was nothing remarkable about them. They looked like every other Yiga, dressed from head to toe in uniform. Their face was covered by the mask and they didn't pay Maari much attention.

"I'm told I have a Hylian soldier in my jail." The commander remarked. Their voice sounded female, but Maari tried to squash her hopes.

"That's right," Link replied coldly, keeping his gaze fixed on Maari.

"Such an honour." The Yiga teased, tapping the bars with slender fingers.

"Any titles?"

"Captain," said Link.

"Captain, very fancy. And who is your companion?" At last the commander turned and acknowledged Maari.

"One of the finest Sheikah warriors in Hyrule," he replied, giving Maari a warm smile.

"Finiest, if she were that good she'd have been smart enough not to challenge the Yiga in their home!" The commander scoffed.

Maari's gaze fell to the floor. She already felt foolish, now this Yiga was just rubbing salt into her wounds. Link tried to send her reassuring glances but it didn't do any good. If this woman was her mother, she clearly didn't recognise Maari.

"Well, soon you will have the honour of serving our lord and master the great Demise."

Demise. Now it was Link's turn to snap to attention. Sky had mentioned that name as the original evil which had threatened to turn Hyrule into a land of darkness. It wanted the triforce and it had started the war between Hylia and the forces of darkness.

"What do you know about Demise? He was destroyed millenia ago," Link stated, trying to gauge any reaction from behind the Yiga's mask.

"A great deal more than you little knight. But perhaps he will enlighten you." The Yiga sighed. "I'm fact, I believe we shall have to bring this little conversation to a close. The ceremony should be ready to begin."

A few moments later more soldiers entered the jail and started jangling keys and unlocking the cells. Link shot Maari a glance which expressed a desire to make a run for it. But Maari shook her head and smiled weakly. Link's heart was in his throat as he allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet and dragged away along the jail corridor. The Commander pulled Maari to her feet and shunted her after Link. She winced as her wounded arm brushed against one of the poor researchers.

"Sorry," she uttered.

"Don't worry about it, we're all in the same boat now." The young man sighed.

The Yiga soldiers and their commander guided the group of prisoners through the hideout and back out to the enormous circular courtyard. Countless Yiga soldiers had gathered around the perimeter, chanting and jeering at the prisoners as they were brought towards the pit in the centre. A twinkling night sky lay overhead, the smallest sliver of a moon shone brightly among the heavens.

The prisoners were brought towards the pit and roughly pushed to their knees. The commander and her guards remained standing behind them as the rest of the Yiga pushed forwards a little. A Yiga stepped forwards and stood between the prisoners and the pit. They were clearly distinct from the rest. They wore an elaborate head-dress of different monster horns and scales. Strings of beads hung from their neck and arms as they raised them skyward.

Link and Maari exchanged an uncertain glance but their attention was quickly drawn back to the strange figure.

"Thank you, my faithful Yiga warriors. You have brought before your Master a sacrifice worthy of our lord Demise!" The figure cried into the night. A cheer went up around the crowd.

"Spill their blood!" Someone shouted.

"Kill Em!" called another.

"Praise The Master, praise Demise!"

Maari's heart was racing, her eyes darted here and there, searching desperately for a way out. Despite her previous pessimism, instinct still wanted her to fight. Link knelt beside her, the solder behind him forced his head down so he was bowing before the Yiga Master. Link grunted unceremoniously and tried to wriggle out of the Yiga's grasp. Maari tried to remain calm but the Master drew everyone's attention once more.

"Behold, the ancient text." He held up a tattered looking book with a dark leather cover. Maari saw instantly that it was covered in gold runes exactly like the ones from the dark portal. "Let the ritual begin!"

"Link," Maari whispered, nodding towards the Master. "The book, look at the runes!"

"What?" Link grunted, as the Yiga guard released his grip.

"The runes! I think the Yiga master is..."

Maari didn't get the chance to finish her thought, but the Yiga Master explained it for her. Each of the guards behind the prisoners drew a dagger and held it to their throats. Maari gasped, trying to wriggle away from the knife. One by one the soldiers cut the bonds of the prisoners, holding one of their arms out-stretched before them.

"What are you doing?" One of the researchers screamed.

The Master then walked towards them with his own knife, a wicked looking curved blade with a red jem set into the handle. He slashed the arm of one of the researchers, letting their blood drip into a bowl he held. Then he turned back towards the pit and dipped his fingers into the blood and began drawing runes on the ground. A spark of light appeared overhead as the Master continued to draw. Link and Maari watched in awe as the sparks turned into glowing runes floating in the air. The runes twisted and spiralled together into a swirl of crimson.

"No way!" Link breathed, his jaw hung open.

Before his eyes, a dark portal crackled and sparked into existence. Lunimous runes span slowly around the edge, adding fuel to the portals power. The Master returned to the second researcher, knife and bowl in hand.

"Hey! Leave them alone!" Maari screamed, trying to wrestle out of her guards grip and get between the Master and his next victim. "You want someone's blood take mine!"

That got his attention and the Yiga Master's mask turned towards Maari.

"Very well, the blood of the Demon Lord's eternal enemies," The Master cackled.

The commander ripped open her sleeve and the Master held the knife against her arm. Maari winced and closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. But it didn't come.

"Let the woman go!" Shouted a voice Maari now new all too well.

She opened her eyes and stared around until she found its source. Time stood at the top of the cliff. Sword drawn, his good eye glaring down at the scene below.

"Well, this looks awful," Legend remarked, as he walked up beside Time.

"Looks like a lot of traitors ready to die," Wild added, nocking his bow.

"Easy cub," Twi urged, though he had his own sword ready.

"Looks like there's plenty for all of us, may the best Link win," Wind laughed, trying to count how many Yiga he could take on at once.

"Who is that?" The Master asked.

"That, would be the goddesses chosen Heroes," Wars smirked.

He used the distraction to pull his hand free of his guard and grab their knife. Maari suddenly found her hands were also free, the commander had released her grip. Though she still wore a mask, Maari swore she looked at her. Maari shook herself into action and followed Link's lead, grappling the guard holding the nearest researcher and wresting their knife away from them. She slashed and left a deep cut in the Yiga's side. They fell back into the other guard sending them both sprawling across the floor.

Up above, Time and the other heroes repelled their way down the ropes to reach the courtyard. They instantly jumped into the crowd and began carving paths towards the prisoners. Maari and Wars stayed close to each other, protecting the unarmed and helpless researchers. Behind them, the Yiga Master, who had grown furious at this intrusion of his ceremony swung his dagger down towards Maari. She looked up just in time to see someone block his arm with their hand. The commander removed her mask and looked back at Maari. She smiled weakly and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Get those people to safety, and be careful Maari." Melyn spoke softly to her daughter, despite the chaos erupting around them.

"Mum? What...? I can't..." Maari stammered, suddenly lost in a face she hasn't seen in years.

"Maari, there's time for this later. Right now you need to focus," Link urged, placing a hand on Maari's shoulder.

"Right," she said.

Maari shook her head and an instant later Melyn was gone. So was the Yiga Master. Maari spotted her mother a moment later, clashing blades with some other soldiers. They must have been surprised that their commander had turned on them.

"She's right, we need to protect these people," Link reminded Maari, helping the injured researcher.

"If we get them to Wild he could teleport them out of here," Maari suggested hopefully.

"We don't have the device," Link reminded her.

"No, but he has his own." Maari rembered. "Get them to Wild, I'll cover you." She held out her hand for the knife Wars had taken. He handed it over without a second thought, then proceed to escort the civilians to the other side of the courtyard.

Arrows whistled over head, some friendly which sailed past harmlessly. Others not so friendly which they had to dodge. The heroes were getting closer to their side of the pit. Sky and Four fought together, protecting Wild who was sitting on top of a window ledge shooting down at the Yiga below. Wind was using his batton to blow whole groups of Yiga down into the chasm. The others were fighting and even sending some Yiga running back through the hideout. Some disappeared from the battle field, presumably choosing to fight another day.

At last Wars and Maari managed to reach Wild and the others.

"Wild!" Called Wars, "this one's injured and they're both in pretty bad shape. Can you get them out of here?"

Wild nodded. He stowed his weapons and took out his device. Dropping down from the window ledge he took the hands of the two civilians and pressed a button on the screen. In a swirl of otherworldly blue, Wild and the researchers disappeared. With their main concern taken care of Wars and Maari turned back to the fight. Wars picked up an eighfold blade from the ground and tested the balance.

"Let's properly thank our hosts for their hospitality," he said, his blood rising and spoiling for a fight.

"Where did the Master go? He was standing right in front of us and he dissappeared," Maari asked, she sounded frantic.

Wars watched her looking around, searching for the bizzar looking Yiga Master. But he suspected he wasn't the only person Maari was looking for.

"I'm going back over there," she decided.

Before Wars could grab her Maari charged off across the battlefield.

"Where's she going?" Sky asked, as he ran over to Wars.

"To do something stupid," Wars remarked.

"Oh, and here I thought you two had already done that tonight." Sky prodded Wars in the shoulder.

Wars rolled his eyes. "Save the lecture for later will you, come and help me get her."

The two of them charged after Maari, felling any Yiga who attempted to stop them in their tracks. As Maari approached the portal in search of her mother and the Yiga Master, her gaze was caught by the swirling ruby mists beyond. The longer she looked the more she found she couldn't look away. Her arms dropped to her sides as she stood before the dark gate. Mesmerised by the power within.

"Sheikah!" A voice older than the earth itself shook her bones.

"Maari get away from it!" Melyn screamed, sprinting towards her daughter.

She dragged Maari away a safe distance as Sky and Wars reached them.

"You okay?" Sky asked.

Suddenly, a crimson hand of gloom shot out from the portal, lunging at Sky.

"Look out!"

Maari pushed Sky out of the way and it grabbed Maari's right arm instead, sinking it's claws into her flesh. She screamed as white hot pain shot through her body. Wincing as something searched around inside her.

Sky recovered his balance, turned and summoned a skyward strike before slashing the Master Sword down through the hand. It fizzled away and withdrew into the portal. Maari dropped to her knees clutching her arm.

By now the rest of the Yiga had either fled or were lying dead. The Chain convened around the portal, careful not to let their eyes get fixed on its centre. Twi held his sword at Melyn's throat.

"Don't move," he began, moving to strike.

"No Twi don't!" Maari urged. "She's my mother."

All eyes turned to Melyn and she gave a little shrug before throwing her weapon to the ground.

"I swear I am not a threat to any of you," she insisted, raising both her hands. "If you wish to take me as a prisoner I will understand. Honestly I probably deserve it."

"Mum, no," Maari uttered. But Time stepped forward and eyed Melyn with a stern glare.

"Tie her up just to be safe," he instructed.

"What, Time no, she's my mother," Maari implored, but Time shook his head. Meanwhile Wind produced a length of rope and began binding her hands.

"It's just a precaution. From where I was standing before it looked a lot like she was about to offer you up as a sacrifice too."

Maari watched as they tied up her mother and moved her away from the portal.

"I should probably take a look at that," Hyrule insisted, quickly making a cursory scan of Maari's arm.

"Anyone else hurt?" Asked Wars, dropping his weapon as though it repulsed him.

"We'll assess injuries back at base." Time insisted. "Right now I want to get you two back to Gerudo Town." He said to Maari and Wars, glaring at them with the disappointment of a father.

< Part 15 : Part 17 >

[valdekboy]

CARNIVAL AU - VALDI

THIS AU BELONGS TO @sm-baby. So, I made Carnival! version of my oc.

I know he doesn't exactly look as good and fancy as other characters from this AU, but still i think he fits well enough.

There are a lot of thing i want to write about him so if you want to read it all then go ahead.

About Valdi

His Engine is like a heart, if it stops he'll die. His only hope would be that one of his friends finds him and would kickstart his heart. Still that doesn't stop Valdi from tinkering with it. He likes to swap out few parts here and there to change his look (also some parts change how his engine behaves).

Even though he's nice, he can get violent if provoked.

He considers all other AIs as friends (even though he's scared of certain trio)

He LOVES good music. Sometimes he just wanders outside arena, searching for some lost cassettes, hoping to find some good tunes. If you want to have a listen then here you go (sorry i tried embedding spotify playlists but that didn't work so these are links to them): - CHILL MIX - GARAGE MIX - MAIN EVENT #1 - MAIN EVENT #2 - MAIN EVENT #3 - PERSONAL

His Playground "THE ARENA" It's giant arena that has 3 main segments:

Garage/Workshop - it's a big space with all the tools you need to fix up your vehicle. On floor above you will find Valdis personal workshop. That's the place from which he controls entire arena, lightning, music and some other things. It's best to not go there without his permission.

Museum - Valdi is very sentimental so after you win he won't just scrap your car, he'll fix it up a bit and leave it in the museum for everyone to see.

Lounge - A quite big room with luxury finish, big wooden bar and giant reinforced window, so anyone can grab a drink, sit back and enjoy the show. When you want to rest you can take the lift and relax in one of 8 rooms. Big bedroom with everything you need to relax (walls are soundproof and window can be closed with mechanical shutters)

Outside of arena you'll find an endless junkyard full of abandoned classic cars,trucks, bikes boats or even trains, if it has engine, you can find it here. Just remember to STAY AWAY FROM THE GRAVEYARD (especially if you hear anything).

HOW THE GAME WORKS

When you first enter, you will have to wait for Valdi so he can take you for a tour around the Junkyard so you can pick your car.

Then you have time to prepare your vehicle for the events. Ask Valdi if you need anything.

When the time comes, you will have to drive into the arena and await further instructions.

There will be 3 events, each one harder than the one before: EVENT #1 - Regular race around the track, you can ram, bash and spin out other contestants. Only rule is to never drive in reverse. There's also other variant called Trailer Race where you have a caravan or trailer attached to your car that you have to protect. EVENT #2 - Figure 8. Same as regular race but with one (or more) cross-sections where you can collide with others. EVENT #3 - Good old Demolition Derby. Crash, smash and bash your rivals and try to be last one alive.

You cannot die inside your car if it's still running, no matter if you get hit multiple times, you start to bleed or you break something, as long as engine is running you just can't die while inside the car (blessing and curse at the same time)

In between each event you have time to fix up your car or just take a break and walk around the arena.

If you manage to win 2 out of 3 events, then you can leave Valdis game with a small prize (which is a toy replica of your car, handmade by Valdi himself :D)

Holy Moly, I know that's a lot to read. If you've gone this far then Thank You so much for your time and i hope you have a lovely day/night.

Also if you want to ask about anything, go ahead the ask box is open.

In the end i wanted to Thank sm-baby for creating amazing AU and inspiring me to create carnival version of Valdi. Looking at all of that above, i still can't believe I've made it. I even started drawing a short story, which is something unbelievable for me. So once again a BIG THANK YOU!

[knavestrolls]

In Comfort

This isn’t her room.

That’s the first thing Althea thinks upon waking up. It’s too barren- it’s the wrong color! Anxiously she reaches for her phone but her pocket is empty. Desperately she searches her body for anywhere it may be hidden away but there’s nothing there. A chuckle stops her dead in her tracks and she looks up to a masked face- holding her phone!

“Hey! That’s mine- give it back!” She squeaks out in indignation, her mind focused entirely on the phone instead of putting together what this might mean.

“This?” The masked man asks and then crushes the device in his hand until small bits of its insides are littered across the floor. “You won’t need that here. Welcome to your new place for now.”

“What are you doing?! What are you talking about?? Where am I???”

“You are here. You’ll continue to be here until that ancestor of yours pays the toll.”

“Really?? Ransom?? Didn’t you fuckers learn the first 3 times that never works??”

“I’m not as stupid as they are.”

“That’s what they all say! You don’t even have me tied up!”

“I don’t- because if you leave this room I’ll break your legs myself.”

“You can’t do that if you want the ransom, I know how this works.”

“Not my ransom. There’s always ways to fix a few broken limbs.”

“Wow there is something seriously wrong with you.”

Althea stood to her full height but she was still shadowed by the masked figure. They stood in silence for a second until she suddenly made a dash for it- swooping under the man’s arm. She barely heard his sigh before she felt the pain. It seems it hadn’t been a bluff- he really was crazy enough to break her legs. Althea screamed as she heard bone break and fell to the floor. The masked man dragged her back into the corner she’d been before, dropping her there like it was the easiest thing in the world. It took a moment for her brain to get through the pain but she’d had endless amounts of practice in ignoring high pains- of functioning when no normal troll could. Althea forced herself back up to a standing position, shaking as she tried to focus her weight on the uninjured leg.

“You’re insane!” She cried out, desperately making her way towards the window.

“There’s bars on that.” The figure said in reply, sounding all together nonplussed. Like this situation meant nothing to him. Like her life or death meant nothing to him!

“Fuck! What do you even want from me?! Why me?!” Althea pulled at her hair as she settled back down into the corner. There was no point in struggling when it was clear he out matched her. There was no easy escape here.

“Not a damn thing. I’m just a middle man. My client gets the money, you get sent back to your special little hive. They don’t get it, you’re shit out of luck and you get a new permanent scar each night.” The figure shrugged.

“You’re terrible! You won’t make it out of this alive.” 

“That’s a mighty damn promise from a little girl.” “I’m not a little girl. I’ll get out of this, and I’ll make you pay.”

“Sure, kid. Don’t make me tie you up. Behave and we’ll fix that leg for you. Make another run for it and I’ll break the other. You understand?” “Fuck you.”