#I actually have no idea where the energy to post came from

[blursed-ninjago-ideas]

The inbox isn't empty, but I'm tired.

-Ivy

[mr-ribbit]

something fascinating to me about egg discourse is how often tme people Also joke about or question their friends potential to be trans, and it's literally never talked about like this.

my cis and tme nb friends routinely joke about celebrities or characters that have big "nonbinary energy" or who otherwise exhibit behavior we would associate with ourselves. i have tme friends and acquaintances who have approached me or my wife and straightforwardly said "something seems trans about you, have I asked for your pronouns recently?"

similar friends have even talked about other still-cis friends in our circle this way, or joked about "when are you going to transition like the rest of us?" or "yeah cis people are a minority in this group, just give it time" or "no wonder you have queer friends with how comfortable with being gnc you are" or etc etc examples like that

even the actual examples of people in my life that I can think of as being the most "invasive" or presumptive about gender have been tme people:

it was my cishet friends who outed me and my wife as trans to everyone at their wedding, including their boomer parents and hundreds of strangers, and called it "the most queer wedding party ever"

it was my tme nb friend who kept saying they could "always tell" her transfem cousin was trans before she came out, and then proceeded to randomly give us extremely personal details about her bottom surgery

it was my transmasc friend who refused to call me and my wife anything other than "little enby beans" after we met and introduced us with our full genders+sexuality labels to every single person one by one at a party

it was my transmasc nb friend who kept insisting my wife could "still be nonbinary" when she was first considering identifying as a trans woman instead, and it was THAT idea that actually slowed her down from making changes to her life that she wanted

it was my cis friends who approached me arm and arm and cornered my outside of a bathroom at a party right after I took a piss to suddenly ask me what my pronouns were because they "heard something" at the party

like, transfems deserve robust support against this trash so a lot of our defensive discourse has ofc been about how it IS okay for transfems to talk about eggs and be jokey about it and non-invasively approach others about being trans

but i swear to god none of these weird people have even stopped to make their discourse ABOUT anyone BUT transfems. it's so clearly targeted!!

no one has EVER approached *me* as a tme nb person and suggested i was pressuring gnc people with my egg jokes. never. nothing even remotely similar. i joke about other people being trans all the time and no one has ever treated me the way you all are treating transfems over this issue.

important note: my examples are all things I recall as being invasive and awkward, and I'm sharing them to make a point about how often rude behavior comes from the same tme people pointing fingers over this. but I still don't think any of them are worth the crucifixion people are treating transfem egg discourse with.

even when my friends were weird to me in the above examples, my reaction was either to confront them about it as friends who I trust to be able to communicate with, or to cut those individuals off after they proved not worth a relationship in the long run. at no time did I desire to make a call-out post or spread rumors about them or publicly declare all of their gender as a screeching menace to society.

my point here is that even when I do think about moments where others crossed a line, acting like this is a "issue trans women have" is blatantly transmisogynistic garbage that only exists to serve the woman-hating machine at the heart of our society. fucking cut it out

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [5]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sooooo satosugu won the poll so this is officially a satosugu x reader series! (just might be a bit of slowwww burnnn)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

It was hot.

Blindingly so.

Still, you refused to take off your sweater even if you desperately wanted to. You were just thankful that your school allowed you to wear sweaters and hoodies over top of uniforms without getting in trouble for it and although normally that was something you only had to worry about in the winter, you had no choice but to today.

If you took off your sweater, then people would see the finger-sized marks across your arms from Sukuna yesterday and really, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions that would inevitably follow. Nor did you want to… let it escalate any further. Sure, you’d managed to get away yesterday and had somehow gained the courage to make your breakup clear to Sukuna, but it didn't erase the fact that he’d scared you last night. And you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somehow people got word that the bruises on your arms were from him.

It was over, anyways. You’d done it. You’d broken up with him and could now move on from him.

Move on with your life.

“You look hot,” Shoko comments from beside you, regarding you with a raised brow. “Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s blistering hot outside?”

Meeting her eyes, you shrug. “It isn’t that hot.”

“You’re sweating,” she deadpans.

Biting your lip, you choose to ignore the fact that she is very much correct. Your sweater is sticking to your skin from the obnoxious sun that is beating right over your head and the need to relieve some of the heat is more than tempting. But the sight of Sukuna running past you, meeting his dark and intimidating eyes just briefly, reminds you of why you’re keeping your sweater on.

“I just finished running,” you explain which, you guessed, wasn’t completely a lie. You were sweating because you’d just finished running but you were sweating a lot because of that and the fact that you were wearing a sweater… Shoko didn’t need to know that though. 

Meeting her eyes from the corner of your own, you nod to yourself. “I’m actually a little cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe, fighting the urge to break under her intense stare. You didn’t even need to be looking directly at her to feel the intensity of it – if there was one thing Shoko was good at, it was seeing through your every lie. You figured that talent came with knowing you for as long as she had… still didn’t make it any less scary thought.

“Like a cold sweat.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you, the suspicious gaze in her eyes never wavering but she has the decency to leave it at that.

You’re incredibly thankful for that fact.

“So, you really did break it off with Ryoumen, huh?”

The two of you are standing by the bleachers while the boys have their turn playing soccer, as per your teachers instructions. The game has been going on for about five minutes now (you only just finally feeling like you’re not about to pass out) and you’ve been spending those five minutes idly chatting with Shoko and desperately trying not to ogle Geto who looks a little too good on the field right now.

Seriously, when did you start to find him attractive?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was attractive — of course you did. The whole female population of your school knew that Geto Suguru was attractive. You’re pretty sure he had his own little fanclub of girls that followed him around and you swear you’ve caught one of them asking him out in the hallway more times than you care to admit. So yes, objectively, you knew Geto was attractive. Incredibly attractive.

But you hadn’t really paid any of that mind until now.

It was like a fact. A statement. It hadn’t had any impact on you previously, and yet, here you were, practically drooling at the sight of him.

“–Hello? Y/N?”

A hand falls on your shoulder, the sudden touch making you jump as your eyes snap to Shoko. She’s staring back at you in concern, head tilted and brows furrowed as you blink over at her.

“I asked you a question?”

Had she?

Eyes briefly glancing back at Geto before focusing on her, you rub the back of your neck.

“Whoops,” you mumble bashfully, “sorry. What was it again? I… spaced out.” 

Rolling her eyes, Shoko just snorts; “I asked if you really did break things off with Sukuna.”

“Oh!” Your eyes instantly brighten up, turning to face her fully. “I did!”

Shoko grins; “yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she turns to you. “I’ve literally been waiting for you to do that forever.”

Rolling your eyes, you just snort. “I know, I know,” you wave her off, before pausing. You had no intention of telling her about how angry Sukuna had gotten, but it would be good to get it off your chest even a little. You just wouldn’t mention the bruise thing—besides, Shoko had said she wanted every little detail. 

So, turning to her, you grin; “it was so awkward though and—”

“Shoko!”

Lips left parted in the middle of your sentence, both you and Shoko glance behind her, only to see a group of girls from another class waving at her to grab her attention. The excitement on your face fades somewhat at that, leaning back on your feet as Shoko waves back at them before glancing over at you apologetically,

“I—”

“It’s all good,” you brush off before she can apologize, waving her concern away. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

Shoko hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze her shoulder; “of course. Go.”

With one more hesitant glance your way, Shoko nods, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before making her way over. You watch her for a moment longer before letting your eyes fall around, eyes momentarily meeting Sukuna’s and swiftly turning your head away, you move, making your way over to the bleachers on the side of the field. A few of the other girls from your class have sat down, chatting amongst themselves, and with nothing better to do, you take a seat near a corner, pulling your legs to your chest and opting to simply watch the boys.

You knew Shoko cared about you, just like you cared about her but it sucked knowing that some of the other girls wanted to be her friend but didn’t want to be yours. Anytime you’d tried to talk with her other friends before, it had just been awkward. And not something you wanted to repeat.

Sighing, you let your head fall on top of your knees.

At least you could watch Geto with no interruptions now.

“Boo!”

Or not…

Flickering your gaze to the right, your lips part when you realize it’s Gojo sitting beside you.

“Gojo!”

With a wide grin and a wink, Gojo offers you a wave.

You glance around before settling back on him, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… here for gym class?” Gojo explains with a snort, using his thumb to point behind him and following his direction, your lips part when you see a group of girls occupying the field next to the one you’re sitting in front of. Focusing back on Gojo and the line sheen of sweat covering his skin, you put the pieces together.

“Oh,” your lips form a ‘o’, “I forgot other classes had gym at the same time as us.” Cheeks warming, you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.

Gojo takes a moment to eye you before laughing; “you’re weird, you know that?”

Lips parting in offense, you shove at his shoulder; “that’s rude!”

“No,” Gojo laughs, your shove barely moving him an inch, “what’s rude is you calling me Gojo.”

Confused, you turn to him; “is that not your name?”

“It is,” he assures, “but it’s too formal. I thought I made it clear; call me Satoru.”

You’re sure your face grows hot at that.

“B-But! That’s too friendly!” You argue, waving your hands in front of you widely. “We only just started talking and—”

“And we’re already close,” Gojo cuts in, smiling cheekily. “So what’s the problem?”

Shoulders slumping, you just frown at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo just takes the insult in stride, leaning in close so his face is right in front of yours. You instinctively lean back, surprised by his sudden closeness as you press against the side of the bleachers. It doesn’t seem to bother Gojo who only grows closer; you can feel his side press into your arm and his leg knock into your folded one, not to mention all you can see is those bright, beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“U-um…—”

“And you’re adorable.”

Okay, now you’re sure you’re red in the face.

“G-Gojo–!”

“Satoru,” he cuts in, waving his finger at you. “Repeat after me. Sa-To-Ru.”

You stare back at him, wishing he’d back up even a little because he was too close and it was making you feel a way you didn't know how to react to. You’d already been sweating because of the damn sweater before, but now you probably look like a hot mess and your mind is running a mile a minute just to come up with something to say.

“Come on,” Gojo sings softly, voice low so only you can hear but still sweet and soft. “Say it.”

Lips parting, you ignore the racing of your heart; “Sa… Satoru.”

With a sudden jump, he’s pulled back, sitting up straight next to you as he grins wide, ear to ear; “see?” He exclaims, “that wasn’t so hard. It’s much better if you just call me by my first name, kay, Y/N?”

You’re frazzled. You know you’re frazzled. Even though Gojo has leaned back like you wanted him to, your heart is still racing and you feel flushed. 

Was it just your imagination or had he also smelled really good?

“O-okay.”

Pleased by your answer, Gojo finally lets his eyes wander down, pausing when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Aren’t you warm?”

Oh god… not this again.

“No,” you deny with a shake of your head, hugging yourself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gojo just quirks a brow. “You look warm.” He states bluntly.

You huff — what was with everyone questioning you on wearing a damn sweater? Was it that hard to believe?

“For your information—”

You stop what you’re saying the second a shadow falls over you, completely blocking the sun from falling over you. Confused, you turn, only to pause when you see it’s Geto. You blink at the sight of him, confused, not having expected to see him, glancing over his shoulder to the field to see, like you thought, the rest of the boys are still playing and yet…

“Geto—”

“Did you bring my hoodie?”

His voice is harsh. Harsher than you expected. By the way he falters the second he meets your eyes properly, you figure he didn’t mean to sound that angry but you’re still confused as to why he even would be in the first place.

Was he upset you hadn’t given him the hoodie back earlier?

You also have not failed to notice how still Gojo is beside you suddenly.

“U-Um… Yeah, it’s in my bag. One sec.”

Reaching behind you to grab your bag, you’re oblivious to the way Gojo and Geto glare at each other, each with a certain fierceness and determination in their gaze before swiftly glancing away the second you turn back around.

“Here,” you call, smiling up at Geto as you extend his folded sweater to his awaiting hands. “I made sure it didn’t have any stains on it or anything after I washed, so it should be good. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

Geto’s face eases as he meets your eyes and he smiles softly; “it’s no problem. Thank you for washing it.” Then, as if almost an afterthought, he adds; “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your place to wait for it.”

You miss the way Gojo straightens at that.

“Oh, no!” You brush off, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you had to even give it to me in the first place.”

“Um,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as he shifts his gaze from Geto to you, offering you a somewhat tight-lipped smile. “Why did you have Geto’s hoodie in the first place?”

You’re a little confused as to why he cares, but—

“I accidentally spilled my soda on her and it made her shirt see-through and she was cold, so I offered it to her.”

Well, he didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—

“Oh?” Gojo asks, but something about his tone sounds strained and tense. “Is that so?”

Lips parting, you watch as the two of them glare at each other.

“U-um,” you speak up nervously, shifting forward; both of their eyes instantly fall on you, features softening. “Do you two… not like each other or something?”

The two glance at each other again.

Gojo’s the first to speak up; “not particularly.”

“We’ve never gotten along,” Geto elaborates. “That’s all.”

“I see…” You mumble, before your eyes brighten with a sudden idea; “well, hey! There's always a first, right?”

And the answer is clear to them both;

No way in hell.

Still, for you, they hesitate.

“Maybe,” Geto shrugs, brushing a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Gojo sighs dramatically; “if I’d have to.”

You’re oblivious to it all — eyes twinkling with excitement, you smile brightly. Truly, a brilliant idea has come to mind.

“Isn’t that amusement park opening up soon? I think… this weekend?” You ask, “you two should go together!”

Geto and Gojo frown at one another.

If there’s one thing the two of them can agree upon, it’s that that seems like the worst idea.

The two of them? Alone? At an amusement park?

What could honestly possess you to think that’s a good idea?

Geto, however, looks at you a moment later and smirks, clearly proud of himself; “I dunno about him, but I’d go with you.” And he sends a smug grin Gojo’s way, clearly thinking he’d effectively worked his way around not only having to disappoint you by saying no to your original idea but, getting you to go with him instead.

Gojo gasps, as if thoroughly offended.

“Really?” Your eyes brighten.

Geto smiles, nodding.

“Then let’s go!” You exclaim excitedly and Geto is just about to turn to Gojo with a victory smirk, before you add; “the three of us! When are you guys free next?”

Wait–what? 

-

Geto is not really sure how he got himself into this situation.

Like really – how?

“She’s late.”

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Geto resists the urge to let his annoyance get the best of him. But really–truly–he was at his final straw.

“You’ve said that three times,” Geto grumbles, offering a quick glance beside him at the white-haired bastard that just couldn’t help but take you up on your offer. Then, imagine Geto’s surprise when he shows up at your agreed upon time just to see that you hadn’t shown up yet but Gojo had—and Geto’s pretty sure that the guy was normally late to everything. Late to class, late to tests, meetups, hangouts, etc. so of course it was just his luck that today is the day Gojo decides he’s going to show up on time.

And you aren’t.

Letting out a whine, Gojo pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, moving until he’s directly beside Geto and the two of them are now staring out at the entrance way, waiting for you.

“It’s true, though,” Gojo mumbles, and Geto can distinctly see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. “She’s ten minutes late.”

Geto just huffs.

“What exactly is your problem?” Gojo asks instantly, and Geto can feel him shift to face him. “You’ve been glaring at me this entire time.”

Feeling that final straw snap, Geto spins to face Gojo in return, narrowed eyes focusing in on his own as Geto shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Gojo just laughs; “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Geto scoffs; “not by me.”

“Still butt hurt that Y/N invited me along?” Gojo taunts, looking entirely too smug as he steps closer to Geto. Gojo might be shorter, but only by an inch, and it isn’t hard for him to size Geto up just as easily as Geto is trying to size him up. “You think I’m all that happy about you being here either?”

“Then leave?” Geto questions, as if that was the obvious answer–which, obviously, it was. “I’m the one who asked Y/L/N first so really, you aren’t needed here whatsoever.”

Gojo just leans back; “if I left I’d be doing exactly what you want. Last I checked, Y/N does want me here.”

Feeling his head hurt and his body tense, Geto shoves at his shoulder; “what’s with the lack of formality? You refer to Y/L/N so casually, I didn’t realize you guys were that close.” Pausing in thought (for dramatic effect), Geto glowers at Gojo. “Last I checked, Y/L/N didn’t even know who you were before a couple days ago.”

“What?” Gojo raises a brow challengingly, “jealous we’re close enough that she calls me ‘Satoru’?” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Gojo leans back. “She says it so prettily, too, don’t you think? I mean, I absolutely love the way she says my name.

He truly was unbelievable. Geto didn’t realize there could be someone who pissed him off so damn much… He’s never really liked the guy, and despite the fact that for most of his life Geto has unfortunately gone to the same school as Gojo, his level of hatred was reaching a height it never had before.

Before, Gojo was just some annoying guy Geto didn’t bother to pay attention to. Not if he didn’t have to.

He can still remember the way he’d felt seeing the two of you laughing and talking that day on the bleachers – Geto was positive that he’s never seen the two of you talk before and certainly not enough to warrant such a friendly interaction. If Geto hadn’t calmed himself down before, he was sure he’d have made a fool out of himself when he interrupted the two of you but taking the calm approach seemed to have it’s rewards and Geto will never forget the look of stunned disbelief on Gojo’s face when you handed him his hoodie.

He’d definitely have to give you his clothes more – this time, have you wear them where everyone could see.

And then he’d thought he’d perfectly worked his way around your silly suggestion of hanging with Gojo – and then you just had to go and invite Gojo with the two of you? 

Geto didn’t realize you could be so oblivious.

Honestly—he’d told himself he’d try to play nice with Gojo, for you. Even if Gojo was there, it didn’t change Geto’s plan of trying to woo you and catch your attention. If Gojo wanted to hang back as a third wheel then that was his choice, Geto wasn’t going to let that stop him from making a move on you.

But really, he was at his limit. 

He couldn’t even think of ‘playing nice’ with Gojo when he was this egotistical.

Inhaling sharply, Geto moves to take a step towards Gojo, Gojo straightening out in response, before your familiar voice calls out;

“Ooh! I’m so sorry!”

Both Geto and Gojo freeze at the sound of your voice, eyes shifting to fall on you as you come to a slow step before them. You’re panting, pressing a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath, making it clear you’d run here, but what really catches Geto’s attention is what you’re wearing.

A flowery, pink sundress. It had cute puffy sleeves and the material bunched around your chest with a bow, with the length of the skirt stopping just above your knees. It swayed gently in the wind, brushing upwards to show the faintest hint of your upper thighs. The whole outfit was put together with some accessories, cute sandals and a hairstyle Geto had never seen you wear at school before.

Geto, despite himself, feels his cheeks grow pink, a flush hitting him as he quickly glances away from you to situate himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought you were pretty before (that was abundantly clear given his actions) but it was a little different seeing you in something other than your school uniform. And, technically, the arcade hadn’t counted—given that he’d dumped soda all over your blouse before he could properly take in what you were wearing.

A quick glance at Gojo tells him his reaction isn’t that much different.

“My mom needed my help with something and I completely lost track of time!” You explain, turning to them with a worried expression as you finally manage to catch your breath properly. “Were you guys waiting for long?”

“Not at all–!”

“No–!” 

Lips left parted, Geto glares at Gojo out of the corner of his eye—Gojo returns it with ease.

“O-Oh,” you mumble, briefly glancing at the both of them in confusion before taking a step towards them. “Well, then… should we get going?”

Without hesitation, Geto steps forward before Gojo has the chance to and flashes a soft smile in your direction; “let’s go.”

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”

[thisismeracing]

Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

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Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second. 

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?” 

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare. 

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!” 

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.” 

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around. 

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of  Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all. 

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?” 

“Most recent ones or oldies?” 

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing. 

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her. 

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it. 

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!” 

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted  across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure. 

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it. 

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants. 

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression. 

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion. 

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel. 

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone. 

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips. 

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again. 

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

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[gin-juice-tonic]

Not to get too into it, because to be honest I don't enjoy thinking about the bill book, but what with the panel being tomorrow/today it's on my mind right now anyway. So lets get a teensy bit into it.

The subject at hand: The giant back and forth block quote dialogues in the missing journal pages section.

I think we can all admit that's weird. To call it "significantly weird" would likely be a matter of disagreement, but it's definitely weird. Ford didn't write like that in J3.

But the thing about it is... It's not just weird in a vacuum.

It's weird and also paired with the context of the last however many pages before the journal ones having been essentially Bill's memoirs/biography/whatever.

Bill has been talking our ears off about himself for an entire book, and suddenly we get to these journal pages where it is for some reason of the utmost importance to quote every bit of dialogue Bill is delivering. It takes up several entire pages, over and over again. None of that was something that could've been paraphrased or otherwise condensed in some way?

While it is true that Ford had a lot of reverence for Bill pre-betrayal, I don't think it went so far as for him to feel he must record every word Bill said to him like this. (And continue to do so post betrayal as well?) Within Journal 3 proper, we don't even get a single quote in general from Bill until Ford details his time in the nightmare realm after his return.

I don't think Ford thought the journals needed all these direct quotes of Bill's in them. I think Bill does.

I think Bill's been screaming "pay attention to me!" for an entire book, and now you're gonna have to sit through his full set of remarks in these journal pages, because his thoughts and ideas and words are just that important. So important that he needed to insert them where they were never actually written down.

It could be that he genuinely said some of it, and wanted you, the reader, to 1) know that he said it and 2) know exactly how he said it. Some of it might be things he said but paraphrased or edited in that sort of "And then I said [xyz]" way people do when they tell stories. And maybe some of it he's just completely made up. I think there's probably a mix/assortment of all of these going on. But regardless of what of it is true and what isnt, I don't think any of it was ever in the journals.

.

Though I do admittedly have a stance on one "quote", and it's that Bill supposedly being the one who first said "Trust no one" has real "Yeah, I taught him that" energy. Like oh, I'm sorry. Ford's famous quote was actually yours first, Bill? The big quote central to the big mystery element of Gravity Falls and heavily affecting the attitude of the main character was one you came up with, not Ford? Sure, pal.

[cherryfennec]

So this was originally supposed to have a kickass artwork of the bros using the power- up and stuff but then I got sick and then I realised Im out of time and here we are so uh hieee everyone and welcome to my post-

Happy MAR10 Day! For the occasion, let's go back to the (not discussed in a long time) Power-Up headcanons. This time I'll focus on the Ice Flower (most of the lore under cut like last time)!

This was surprisingly requested by some (3) people. I'm going to be honest, I barely remembered this one at first. I kinda know how it looks and generally what it does, which will have to be enough to base this entire thing on. With that being said, I did some thinking and here's what I've got:

General headcanons;

This one has difficulty surviving outside of it's original environment. If you want to keep a batch in the house your best bet is to use the fridge/freezer, otherwise it looses both it's blue look and the stored energy. See, the Ice Flower originally wasn't (and still technically isn't) it's own flower species. Let me elaborate:

Nowadays the conditions there are not as harsh, however a rather long time ago travelers heading towards places like the Snow Mountain needed to be both be specially trained and very well equipped to even attempt a climb. A heat source was a big must, and it so happens that it often consisted of Fire Flowers. They'd put some in their coats to keep warm, as well as store a few in the backpack just in case they needed to protect themselves from monsters. When setting camp during their journeys these hikers would use the Power-Ups energy to start fires and cook food. After the flowers were depleted of their energy and entered their hibernation stage (I talked about it in my Fire Flower post), they would be simply thrown away like trash. Waiting for them to recharge was often not beneficial, especially in conditions like this, so there was ultimately no point in keeping them. However like I mentioned before, Fire Flowers are very adaptable, which actually wasn't that known at the time. Instead of wilting, these stubborn plants would try gathering energy like the usual, but since it was very cold and direct sunlight was limited, they decided to collect something else. While not all flowers made it, a few managed to amass the eminating frost and turn it into a new kind of energy which proved to be enough for their survival. With time even their petal colour changed to blueish hues. And thus the Fire Flowers in the area became Ice Flowers and over the years started populating the mountains and snowfields.

The Ice Flower is a multiple use Power-Up in theory but more often than not you'll find yourself without a place to freeze it after using one. If it's not placed in a cold environment during it's hibernation it'll either die or, more uncommonly, simply revert back to being a Fire Flower after a long process.

Mario and Luigi specific headcanons;

While the idea of being able to freeze stuff sounded cool it wasn't very fun to learn.

In Marios case imagine: you're good at something, really, REALLY good at something. Okay great, now imagine being told that your knowledge doesn't matter because now you need to do the opposite of what you've learned. Back with the theme of "elements don't mix", Mario absolutely hated how much effort he needed to put into focusing the newfound energy to barely make a tiny projectile. Even before he got the Firebrand he had enough difficulty with it, so it only got worse from there. This was one of the rare times where learning the bare basics instead of mastering a Power-Up was enough for him.

Luigi didn't really mind. The main complications came more from the vague instructions he received during training rather than his own inability. Suprisingly or not the Thunderhand didn't make this one much of a pain either, I guess anomalies attract eachother. While he doesn't consider this Power-Up as a favourite he still finds it pretty fun that he can freeze and walk on water. Did you know, he used to be pretty good at skating in high school. If you didn't he'll make sure to bring it up at a given occasion. Back to ice powers, he definitely outdoes his brother on this one, even if not by much.

There's probably one more thing I should mention. Despite the contrary belief the Ice Flower does NOT increase ones tolerance to cold temperatures. To be frank it might even decrease it by lowering the bodys natural temperature, making the chances of frostbite higher. And so, they learned it the hard way.

In conclusion, this is more of a situational Power-Up. It's neither easy to find or preserve which can be annoying but despite all this it's hard to deny that it's ultimately a useful tool.

Few bonus headcanons!

I don't know how much sense I conveyed through my broken wording and less than average writing skills but it's not that shabby if I say so myself. Just like last time some details might change in the future but for now that's the general idea that I have considering the Ice Flower. Once again thank you to whoever took the time to read this!

[ahllohehn]

Hello! This is an opportunity for you to yap about ANYTHING you wanted to. That's it, use it however you'd like :D

Post about my Scarian Fashionista AU that I absolutely doubt I'll finish so have my draft notes of my plans before I completely gave up;

“Too common.”

“The design is tacky.”

“Now it’s too simple.”

“Grian, dear, are you even trying at this point?”

“Enough with this. If all your designs are just gonna look like this, I’d rather you already leave and reflect on this.”

Grian flinched as he watched the office door slam on his face, leaving him to glare at nothing but polished wood as he trembled frustratingly in place. 

When he had signed up for a course on Fashion Design, he thought he had been overqualified for the course. After all, he already had plenty of experience in regards to fashion, so he thought that all he needed was to push through and just let his passions and ideas roam free then he’d get his degree easy peasy.

Too bad that reality is often disappointing, and often likes to humble him offensively.

Grian grit his teeth and was about to kick down his professor’s door until a voice piped up and dragged him away before he could create some long time regrets, “Woah there, buddy. Getting a lil’ too heated there, yeah?”

Pearl giggled as she held the shorter man down by his shoulders, disallowing him any opportunities of kicking down the door and potentially murdering their professor.

The future murderer squirmed under her hold for a while before begrudgingly setting his foot down, “I wouldn’t be like this if they weren’t so– so! Urgh!”

The rest of his words were lost as his emotions took over any sort of coherent thought, only having enough awareness to express his frustrations by groaning and whining. He waved his clenched fists and stomped his feet on the carpeted floor like a child throwing a tantrum.

With how he was acting, any student could mistake him for some short freshman first realizing the cruelty of college life. Fortunately, Pearl wasn’t any student and saved him the embarrassment of having to be compared to younger students.

“I know, I know. But if you were gonna get kicked out from university, I’d rather you get kicked out with an honorable reason,” she patted Grian’s back comfortingly, “And murdering a professor because you had a disagreement on some concept designs is not an honorable reason. It would be embarrassing, actually.”

Grian puffed up his cheeks and took a deep breath, steeling himself as he quickly turned on his heel to start brisk walking to a random direction, “Walk,” he announced vaguely, but Pearl was quick to understand and she followed after the other at a slower pace.

Clearly, this wasn’t their first time being in this kind of situation. In a world where standards heighten with every year, every decade, and every fad and trends, designers like them need to get ready for all kinds of heavy rejection, criticism, and judgment. Same can be said for any person who studied and worked under anything visual.

Hopes and dreams were meant to stay as hopes and dreams.

If you even attempt to express those to the world without having the bravery to back it up, it would inevitably face destruction in the hands of the high expectations of the public, and soon enough you’d be left with nothing but an empty shell that has sacrificed it all because they believe in passion over standards.

To battle the frustrations and heavy emotions that came as a result from these sacrifices, Grian and Pearl have learned to make a habit of doing simple things like strolls and walks. Because if you physically tire yourself out, then you wouldn’t have the energy to even impulsively think of rebelling against the norms of society. 

And also because walks are nice. The campus gave them a lot of space to explore, so why not use it, right?

The pair found themselves strolling the halls of the building with Grian leading and Pearl calmly following behind. She didn’t make any attempts to catch up and walk beside the man because one cannot simply match an angry Grian’s pace. The shorter man had so much adrenaline from months upon months of suppressed anger that it was simply impossible to even walk with him properly without getting sore legs the next hour. 

Pearl could only thank whatever god is above for making Grian as loud as he is, “Too common, too tacky– Her face looks too common and her personality is too tacky!” now starts Grian’s monthly ranting session.

“When I try to follow the current trends, she says the design is too overused and plain. But when I try to actually make something unique, she thinks it’s too ambitious and gaudy! It’s like she’s never happy!”

The brunette behind him snorted, “Maybe she wants an equilibrium? Something that’s just right?” she offered, to which her friend rolled his eyes.

“Something just right? Who is she? Freakin’ Goldilocks?!” Grian screeched and ruffled his own hair in distress, slowing down a few steps as he kicked his feet in anger.

Although this kind of reaction would probably gain him some few worried looks, Pearl herself was already too used to this scene and she simply giggled in response, “Maybe she is, you never know.”

Grian sighed out a groan and crossed his arms. His energy slowly simmered down as he eventually slowed down enough to be walking beside Pearl, “How are you so calm about this? I would’ve thought you’d be angry walking with me, but instead you’re just…. Well, walking.”

Pearl grinned wide and puffed up her chest proudly, “Well, contrary to my experiences for the past few terms, things are actually looking up for me!” Grian raised an eyebrow at this, squinting his eyes at the other with either a suspicious look or a look of envy. Probably both.

He tried to act nonchalant about it, like he’s totally not yearning to say the same thing for himself, “All because you’ve got some inspiration, huh?” His question had a teasing edge, making Pearl bashfully laugh.

“Some is undermining it. Gem has been a great source of inspiration. It’s like I’m being spoon fed a new idea everyday,” Pearl boasted enthusiastically that even Grian couldn’t help but flash a smile, “Huh, good for you then. It’s nice that you’ve atleast rekindled any sort of happiness that Professor Goldilocks may have burnt out,” he snorted.

Silence settled for a while with Pearl glancing at Grian like she was trying to figure out what to say to him. She only finally spoke up what was brewing on her mind when he acknowledged her gaze with a tilt of his head.

“Why not get a muse of your own?”

Grian’s face scrunched up at that question, “Of my own?”

“Yeah.”

Grian gave it a thought and he shook his head, “With how I am? I’m better off continuing to do things alone,” he grumbled. 

He was already used to coming up with inspirations for himself on the spot. Because, unlike now, he was actually pretty passion-driven before, fueled with nothing but the dreams he’s held onto since he was young. It’s only unfortunate that he ran out of it because his professor was discouraging and hated everything he came up with, so he started living on thinking that everything he’s doing is inadequate, that he needs to improve his thinking before he could improve himself. It was a ‘he’ problem that he is more than capable of handling alone.

At least, that’s what he’s been persuading himself to think. But the more he thought about the idea of having a muse, the more appealing it sounded. 

Or maybe that was his loneliness speaking.

While Grian was having inner conflicts within himself, Pearl continued to spit out encouraging words herself, “I mean, it’s not like it won’t be worth it,” she nudged the shorter man with an elbow to gain his attention back to her, “We’d need to gather models for our finals anyway.”

The blonde blinked in confusion, “Finals?”

Pearl gave him a weird look, “Our finals, Grian. The one where we’d have to get models to personally show off our designs by the end of the term.”

His expression froze along with his thought process as his brain began to file through any memory regarding his final project.

When he did finally register everything, Grian stopped in his steps to facepalm with both hands, letting out his nth muffled groan that same hour, “I… actually forgot,” he admitted with a whine before releasing his face and staring at Pearl in panic.

The end of the term fashion show. It sounded so ridiculous that it completely slipped Grian’s mind that it would actually be a contributing factor to his grades.

“Where am I even gonna get a muse, much less a model?!” He squeaked out, now resorting to pacing around the empty hallway in circles with his hands tugging on his own locks in distress.

Pearl stood to the side and  couldn't even get a word in before Grian continued on with his monologue of panic, “I can’t just– Kneel and reach out for the sky and pray some god would hear my prayers!” He sounded manic.

The blonde stopped to stand at the ceiling to floor windows that decorated one side of the hallway, gesturing towards the sky through the said window in front of him, “Like, they can’t just drop down a beautiful being out of nowhere!”

As soon as he said that, his dark eyes looked down from the sky and unconsciously magnetized towards a figure outside on campus grounds, seemingly on the lookout for something.

Not that Grian was curious to know anything about what said figure was trying to do. All he knew at that moment was that they.... (I didn't finish this. Just imagine Scar just appeared lol)

[roomsofangel]

IN THE ABSENCE OF EVERYTHING, I PROMISE TO KEEP YOU WARM . . jeong yunho

“you’ve ruined me for anyone else, i don’t think i could ever stop loving you even if i wanted to.”

pairing idol!yunho x fem!reader

one sided dislike/hatred. sunshine x grumpy. could be seen as an enemies to lovers but it’s all one sided on y/n’s end and she just doesn’t like him in the beginning while yunho is completely oblivious, but still matches her energy.

genre angst, fluff, smut, fic.

synopsis ateez are on a much needed break after their recent comeback — traveling overseas for a short-term vacation, yunho desires nothing more than just to ease himself and let go of worries.

but with a run in with someone he deems an angel in human skin, yunho learns she doesn’t know who he is and pretends to be someone else.

filled with secrets and a burning romance, yunho learns that no matter what you do or how hard you try, life just isn’t fair.

and he only had himself to blame.

warnings mature themes, mainly due to language. a lot of dishonesty. hurt without comfort if i’m being honest. nsfw later on. arguments and miscommunication. reader and yunho don’t have a good first impression at all, and they both don’t use the most nicest words at first. a lot of talk of mental health, exhaustion, and being overworked.

notes this is told in past tense, yunho’s pov. think of it as you are listening to him tell the story after it all ended, only knowing his side. this was also going to be a one shot, but i instead have changed my mind and went with original idea when first planning this, and this will be a fic.

a/n this is a repost! so if it sounds familiar i originally posted this with my old blog mothworked!

status ongoing

started 05/06/23

completed n/a

reblogs & comments are very appreciated and also help out a lot! thank you for reading and giving my work a chance ^_^

. . . # chapters !

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | to be continued. .

PREVIEW BELOW. . !

yunho hasn’t been happy in a while.

he doesn’t know when or where this sudden realization came into place, nor does he know when the feeling of numbness even decided to pop in for a chat as if it was a distant relative who came over for the holidays and refused to be put to bed.

he just knows he hasn’t been the same person after their comeback — assuming that he was only overworked, this will cease.

it didn’t.

his hands shoved his clothes into the oversized suitcase, hearing the zipper tug and close his belongings all tightly knit together, yunho let out a huff of air, allowing himself to pause for a minute, take in everything while staring blank at the pompompurin keychain he had setting on his nightstand with the mental reminder to hook it onto his bag to match with mingi — “will this actually do anything?” he voiced outloud, grumbling before pulling and rolling the suitcase off his bed and down the hall, “i’m here.”

the first person to lift their heads towards him was hongjoong who smiled in response, eyes showing he was just as exhausted and eager for this break, “does anyone know where we’ll be going?” he asked

“california — not so bad, huh?” seonghwa acknowledged, a light tone to ease the tension created from just the lack of care to their needs that begun to radiate off of then in their tones and actions

and yunho wanted to believe him, he really did.

but the feeling in his chest was yelling at him otherwise.

“san’s birthday is coming up,” yeosang mentioned one night while he and yunho unpacked, the two sharing a room together after losing a game of rock paper scissors

yunho could recall the shade the walls were painted, green lily. mingi was the one who mentioned the color by name and it had made them all erupt in fits of giggles on how — and why, he knew something like that but thanked him nonetheless, san announcing the dorms should be painted the same shade before getting a pillow aimed towards his head by a sleepy jongho

and now, yunho was scurrying around downtown LA, attempting to find a good present for his friend. why was gift shopping so hard? would san even like it? no, scratch that, san loved anything given to him — he was just a big ball of sunshine.

it was yunho who wouldn’t deem it good enough.

maybe coffee would help, yeah, that would. just something to distract his neverending nerves so he can think better. he should’ve asked seonghwa, he thought to himself.

the sky was clear, the sun being bright and reflecting on his freshly dyed scalp, it was his mind that was clouded and unable to steer in one set direction — not fully processing where he was going, only aware he was aiming towards that coffee shop he noticed. oh, if he knew then, he would’ve turned around.

colliding with a body, soft gasps and cold drink being spilled on his warm skin, “fuck,” he cursed out loud at the sudden temperature and new situation

and that’s when his eyes met yours.

but with the way his day and emotions had been, he didn’t intend for his next words to be come off so harsh, “i’m sorry”

you looked at him with an annoyed expression, brows knitted tightly together, “just watch where you’re going now i have to deal with a day without my drink.”

scoffing, yunho shook his head, “i wouldn’t be talking if i were you, you basically were fucking naurto running into my chest,”

you let out a huff, “naurto running?!” running your fingers through your hair, you shook your head, “if i wasn’t so mad, i would have laughed.”

“i can get you another one,” yunho tried to compromise, not wanting a feud with a stranger over a drink

plus, he wasn’t sure if you knew he was an idol and if you did, he didn’t have any desire to end up on an article, his thoughts broken by your scoff

“no fuck you, i wanted that one,” you folded your arms over your chest, eyes darting to the floor before you started getting napkins to clean up, yunho unaware of why he followed behind

“are you this uptight all the time?” yunho blurted, earning his chest to hit your back before you turned with raised brows

“only to dumbasses who make me spill my drink.”

“touché.”

he finally convinced you to let him get you another drink, taking a seat by you while the straw was between your lips and your fingertips tapped the cold plastic cup that had water droplets decorating, “you can leave now,” you said

“don’t flatter yourself, i ordered something too,” yunho shook his head

you sneered, “your presence just annoys me.”

yunho leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbows as he looked at you with a mocking grin to tease you more, “is that any way to talk to me after i got you another tea, which may i add, at a coffee shop?” he paused, looking at you taking a bite of your cake pop, “plus that cake pop.”

“yeah.” you shrugged

yunho ordered hot chocolate, his intentions were to get an iced americano but with the day he was having, his taste changed for today, his hands holding the warm wrapped brownie he hoped to enjoy if not giving it to san later

you teased him about it which was fair, he did so about your tea.

“what’s your name?” he asked

met with silence.

“hello, are you deaf?” he titled his head in response, you looking at him with a teasing grin

“for you, yeah.”

ignoring what you had said, yunho straightened his posture, “i’m yunho and you are?”

and yet again, met with your silence

“you’re making this really herd,” he huffed

“that’s the goal.” you replied

yunho didn’t know how much longer the two of you sat in silence, eating and drinking before you began getting up to clean your area, he remembered how the strands of your hair fell in front of your face and you harshly moved them aside in annoyance, jaw clenched while you got your bag that he didn’t realize you had with you — eyed landing on a specific dangling keychain that resembled the one he had connected, before he could make a comment about coincidences, you spoke

“y/n.”

“huh?” he questioned

you dusted yourself off and laughed, “my name is y/n, you asswipe.”

that was the first time he met you

and sometimes he wished he would’ve left you alone after that

maybe the two of you would have been better

maybe you wouldn’t hate him this much

and maybe he could’ve done things differently if he had another chance

but you won’t give him one

and he knows he doesn’t deserve it after what he did.

it was almost fate.

the situation and timing could come off as such — at least, yunho wanted to believe the two of you were starcrossed lovers destined to get it right either in this life or the next one.

he didn’t expect to see you there, polished and composed, the opposite of who he met the day prior. you radiated something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get enough of.

and he couldn’t.

even now, he found himself drowning in your memory and wanting to be swept under permanently — it nearly sounds as if he was praying for a fatal outcome, but he did not want to die. he just wanted his heart back.

the same one that still stayed in your hands while yours was forcibly removed from his

[sabrondabrainrot]

Good morning everyone!

Before today's TSAMS ep I just wanted to share a random idea/theory I have about what might happen today. So, from the community tab in the tsams channel Nexus has been haunting it. He's been sending cryptic messages to mess with the audience. He recently made a post that had a big ol' copy pasta of "hi bro bro" and it included the words Sun, Nexus, and Thursday. He also recently mentioned he's going to haunt Sun.

We know when Sun feels extreme guilt over what he's done for tends to hallucinate his guilty thoughts in the form of the people he's killed. (Crazy that bro feels bad about self defense) So the usual thought I'd, Nexus is going to show up to taunt Sun. Sun is probably going to think he's not real because he knows he hallucinates.

However, I propose something else might be going on.

Recently Sun has been shown to have strange behavior. He sometimes seems low energy and like he was blacking out? He seemed to be zoning out too. I used to think it was hints of the entity that the creator sent into Sun's mind but one of the recent episodes makes me think maybe it's something else.

So in a recent episode where blue messed with Sun and made him a King for a day to cheer him up. So something that I thought was just a one off gag was when Blue said "I miss kissing dream Nexus." And yeah, that has to be a random gag. But then in the other recent EP with Moon's strange dream Blue showed up again and he tends to not act like anything else in both dreams.

We all know Blue is a strange entity not even the Devil from the Bible wants to deal with. He's been a gag character for a long time but he's also presented as this strange eldritch being. He transcends normal mortal rules.

I think it's not crazy to ask, what if he can actually enter dreams? He's always had intimate knowledge of people's dreams.

So going back to Sun, his odd dream seemed to affect reality. The stuff he did in his dream happened in real life.

What if, instead of sleeping or the entity it was Nexus? What if Nexus is testing out hacking and piloting Sun? What if guys 'haunt' is something more malicious like he takes over Sun?

Pilots Sun?

The reason why I think this is because Blue only really interacted with Nexus in Sun's dream. What if it was actually Nexus messing messing with his mind? The tampering came as a strange dream to Sun?

But that's my theory and I wanted to get it out before I started work and before the ep comes out!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Drafting the Adventure: Dungeons Without Walls

I love the idea of dungeons, but there was a significant portion of my life as a DM where they didn’t feature in my games. While Pathfinder and 5e provided a great framework for character building and tactical skirmishes that I could build story on top of, neither was really great when it came time to detour into a  dungeon. My players tended to get confused when we headed out to plunder the local ruin or cave system, spending a lot more time figuring out where they were and what they should be doing than actually doing anything. 

The problem as it turned out was limited information.  I had a picture of the dungeon in my head/notes but I couldn’t telepathically infer that to the party, and the back and forth questions where they tried to orient themselves within my mental labyrinth ate up a lot of session time prevented us from attaining that snappy pace that every table needs to keep the players invested.

Recently though I had an epiphany about overhauling exploration in d&d, and wrote up a whole post detailing how you could build and run wilderness adventures the same way you could a heist or a murder mystery. Because I was already writing a series about dungeon design it didn’t take long for me to realize that this exploration overhaul was 100% applicable, and could solve a lot of the delay and confusion my players usually faced on their next trip underground.  Spoilers: it worked amazingly.

 The key to this overhaul was giving my players enough information to see the dungeon as a sort of abstract checklist, and then giving them the power to investigate and check things off that list in whatever order they wished, when they enter a new level of the dungeon they get a new checklist to fill out which still keeps that sense of exploration. Folk love checking things off lists, and I as a dungeonmaster love it when players engage with the content I’ve spent so much energy creating even if it’s only poking their head in the door to realize they want to run away as fast as possible. Likewise, designing the dungeon this way let me tackle much larger concepts without having to sweat the details of filling up every little room as I would have to in map-centric design.

To summarize my exploration mechanic as It applies to dungeons:

During Design: After you’ve got the dungeons’ major concept, you divide it into unique “zones” (essentially what might be levels in a regular dungeon) with an interconnected theme, mechanic, or threat.

Each zone has a number of points of interest, which can be anything from trails to follow, odd sights they might investigate, to full complexes of rooms that you’ve mapped out. You don’t need to map out the points of interest otherwise, they sort of float abstractly within the zone 

When players enter a zone, they become aware of its name and general descriptor, as well as how many total points of interest are in that zone. They also become aware of some points of interest immediately to serve as landmarks and give them a direction for their exploration, but most remain undiscovered until they venture off the path and start checking out their surroundings. Hidden among these points of interest are the doors that lead to zones deeper within the dungeon, encouraging the party to explore in order to progress.

During Play: When the players enter the dungeon, one player is appointed as the surveyor, who’s job it is to keep track of the zones, fill out that checklist, and check things off when the DM tells them that they’ve fully explored a point of interest.

Rather than needing to be aware of the exact room layout, the party just need to know what zone they’re in and what options are available to them, Because this information is delivered in the form of a checklist with empty spaces, the party know exactly how much of the dungeon they’ve explored, what’s left to explore, and when they’ve cleared out an area.

Lets take the image above as inspiration. Say the party is trying to make it up to the tower, you can easily see a progression of zones and maybe imagine a few to go alongside them:

Ruins & Foothills: The first area, filled with the remnants of an ancient civilization. Picked over by looters and now a home to all sorts of wildlife,

Mountainside: The obvious next goal, but locked off behind a challenging climb, Filled with hazards that threaten to knock the party back down to the foothills if they’re not careful

Caverns: Secret area accessible only if the party explore a cave on the mountainside, or make a beeline towards the old aqueduct landmark in the foothills, realizing it might be easier than the climb. 

Spire Foundations: The door connecting to the foothills is guarded by a complex puzzle and arcane ward, but the party might be able to sneak in through the caves where erosion has caused a breakthrough into the cellars.

Spire Peak: High among the clouds, the party’s prize is somewhere here.  Access to the upper sections of the tower are guarded by a territorial sphinx under arcane compulsion, though the party might just be able to skip that fight if they figure out the riddle to make the portal mirrors work in the foundations.

Trying to design all this by pencilling it in on a gridmap would take weeks, to say nothing of the headache it’d cause you trying to make things fit together and fill up empty space with content. Designing it first as a sequence of zones and then filling those out with interesting fights, puzzles, and encounters is the work of an afternoon or two. Likewise, its easy on your players: five zones with six to ten points of interest is far easier to tackle when you can make a checklist and see how much progress you’ve made, despite the fact that the area they’re exploring is quite vast. 

I hope you find this as useful as I have, and if you need a more concrete example of how it might work, don’t worry, I’ll have one of those for you in the coming days.

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek IV?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Jamil Viper, Kalim Al-Asim.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: Got busy, planned to post this a while ago but what can I say? Plans change. Definitely will not have nearly as much time to write as I did a few weeks ago, but I’ll still try whenever I have a bit of time and some energy to do so. Anyways, like I mentioned in a few posts, I was not happy with how I originally wrote Scarabia, so I rewrote almost all of what I had, which was thankfully only like about ten pages. I’m a little more happier with how this is now. But again, things can always change, so the final result may look the same, a little different, or even completely different. Oh, and like mentioned in the previous notes for sneak-peeks, check the points in first post (heartslabyul, labeled “I”) for a bit of context to the situation and story if this is the first sneak-peek you’re seeing.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE VIZIER 

Feathers. Colorful feathers tickled your nose. A woven shawl sat on your shoulders with vibrant colors and macaw feathers along the clip that held it in place above your collarbone. As your vision readjusted to the scenery, you could make out an old desert city stretching out as far as the eye could see, until it met over the horizon with the starry night sky. It was nothing like the court you were in moments ago. Instantly everything came flashing back to you, the trial, the judges, your punishment. This was your punishment. “Holy shit.”

“Is something wrong?”

You looked to the side, surprised to see a servant placing a tray of food beside you. You were on a balcony, a beautiful grand spacious terrace where the arches were decorated with ivy and walls of flowers while pillars of flames provided light and there was a large water fountain in the center. You were laying on the edge of that fountain, when you pushed yourself up and looked around. That’s when you noticed your clothes had changed too. Somehow your simple change of clothes from before had become easy-to-move-in loose trousers and a simple tunic, but with the colorful shawl over your shoulders that resembled wings. “What? What the hell?”

“Is there something wrong with the food?”

Food? You looked down at the tray the servant had brought, surprised to see plates of kofta and falafels with a chalice of water. The delicious smell wafted in the air, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. How long has it been since you ate? Probably well before you were arrested. If you got food, you were expecting cold slop, not this scrumptious meal that was cooked to perfection. Instantly you snatched it up, assuring the servant, “No, no, forget it! This is fine, uh, thanks…!”

“Very well.” They bowed their head to you, “Please, enjoy the meal, vassal.”

Vassal? You stopped mid-bite, about to ask them about it and where you were, but they had already taken off. Well, you weren’t complaining. You had thought you were going to die, or end up in some horrible hell. This place was actually quite nice. You could feel the breeze of the cool desert air and smell the flora growing on this terrace, you heard the city below with the crackling of fire from the pillars and the running water beside you, not to mention you were eating the best food you ever tasted! If this was hell, then being banished might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you!

“You! Jamil’s vassal!”

There it was again. What the hell did they mean by vassal? Falafels stuffed in your mouth, you slowly and awkwardly turned around to face whoever called you. Who was Jamil? You had no idea. A little annoyed that your dinner was interrupted, you eyed the approaching stranger up and down before swallowing your food and muttering, “What do you want?”

Appearing offended at your response, the young man stomped up to you, closer so you could see him better in the dim lighting. He looks a little young, if you had to guess, you’d say the guy was no younger than eighteen. Sharp blue eyes and long thick black hair styled into a single braid, not to mention he wasn’t smiling. This was no servant judging by the expensive looking blue garbs he wore and the gold on his bronze ears that complimented his handsome face. It had to be someone of high standing. When he was right in front of you, he frowned down at you and placed his hands on his hips, “Where is Jamil? And where is my cousin?”

You lowered your plate of food, squinting at this stranger. Who did he think he was? Jamil? Cousin? “Your cousin…? Jamil…? How should I know?”

“You should know. As the vizier’s only vassal, you should know where Jamil is. That is your job, to serve him. Or is he slithering about in places he shouldn’t be?” As his blue eyes bore down at you, he continued his tirade, “You haven’t bowed your head or greeted me as everyone does, by saying, good day, Prince Jaseer. And you’re here slacking off while everyone else in the palace is working.”

“I’m on a lunch break.” You mumbled in reply, tempted to snap. Wait… had he said prince…? A beautiful royal in blue wearing gold, with long black hair, who is spirited and no-nonsense, like a princess in a fantasy tale. A princess that lived in a palace just like this one, where there was a vizier and sultan–– oh fuck. How was that possible? This was like a stupid kid’s story you heard all the time! Before you could ponder on the topic, you were reminded of who was in front of you by him cleaning his throat. You immediately bowed your head sloppily, begrudgingly, as you recited the words he wanted to hear. “Good day, Prince Jaseer…”

At your less-than-satisfactory response, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied still with that frown, “If you can’t answer my question, then there’s no use talking to you. I’ll find someone that can tell me where my cousin and Jamil are. Let it be known, I have my eye on you and your master. My cousin may be fond of you both, but I am not.”

When you slowly lifted your head, you watched the prince storm away, likely to go find his cousin, whoever that was, and the vizier, this Jamil guy. As soon as he turned a corner, you scrunched your nose and scoffed, “Brat.”

Wait… that meant this was a story. It was all too similar to a story that began much like: it begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits with a dark purpose. If this was that story then what were you…? Apparently working for the vizier, wearing a shawl of rainbows, and feathers… oh my god, you were the fucking parrot. As you resumed your eating you busied your mind with processing these thoughts. “At least the tax collector can’t find me here.”

All you knew was that you were in the role of his parrot, his pet. What a stupid role to end up in! In this version you hoped you were at least some sort of glorified servant! At least you weren’t dead, this was much better than that. You knew the tale of Aladdin by heart, it was a very popular story growing up. You had even envied the protagonist, a thief, for ending up with a genie and winning the love of the princess. Turns out that princess, or prince in this case, was not all that. Well, they always say to never meet your heroes. But, there was one thing that was bound to be great, no matter how much this story would change. The magic lamp that held the genie. You wanted it. Maybe if you stuck around this vizier long enough, you could take it for yourself whenever the opportunity presented itself. You had the advantage, you knew exactly what was going to happen. That genie could grant any of your wishes! It could take you home if you wanted. You could make all those judges rue the day they banished you! You could rule this world and yours! You could bathe in an endless amount of gold and cash! The possibilities were endless!

As you finished your meal, another figure came into view. The figure of a guard, like the ones you’ve been watching patrol and march around, approached you nervously. Only when he noticed you glance at him and nod your head, did he begin speaking, “G-Good evening, vassal. The candidates, they’re ready for the vizier, he’ll be here any moment. You are the only one he trusts, everyone knows this, won’t you put in a kind word for me? I fear he’s in a foul mood, his venture to the cave in the desert didn’t end well again.”

Candidates? Vizier? Cave in the desert? After a few seconds of the guard waiting in anticipation, you were able to connect the dots. This must’ve been a specific rendition of the story where the vizier found the Cave of Wonders in the desert but instead of using a magic machine he created to find the diamond in the rough that could enter the cave, he used his power behind the scenes and in the dark to search through prisoners and criminals and send those he thought might be worthy to die trying to enter the mystic cave. This vizier, Jamil, would no doubt be growing frustrated since he’s likely been keeping at this for so long without finding a single person that can successfully enter the cave. Jumping off your seat on the fountain after finishing your last bite of food, you looked over to the guard and smiled, “Alright, let’s go. We can’t leave the master waiting, can we?”

“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” So you followed the meek little guard, and as you trailed after him you thought about what would happen and what would you do. The guard had said that it was a fact that the vizier trusted only you, or rather, the person who you’ve replaced. The prince didn’t notice you were not the vassal, and neither did this guard or any of the other servants, so it was likely that no one would notice unless you slipped up, not even the Vizier Jamil. Hopefully.

You watched as the pristine halls of the palace became dark and dim the deeper you went. As the smooth walls became rugged stone lit only by lamps of fire, and the lush green plants and overpriced furniture and decorations became absent. There were also, noticeably, less people. It felt like you and guard were the only ones as you followed them deeper into what you guessed was a dungeon where you heard chains rattling and the echoing screams of those held captive. Before you could enter the room, the guard turned to you and pleaded,

“Please, stay here. I’m sure seeing you will give the vizier a bit of peace. He should be here any moment now. I will go ahead and be sure everything is in order.”

Before you could even protest, the guard scurried ahead to the end of the hall and not too long after, you detected footfall behind you. When you turned around, you saw what you presumed had to be the Vizier Jamil. The vizier looked sort of imposing as he appeared from the dimly lit halls, and with the flames on the wall you could just make out his appearance. A thin figure clothed in red and black robes decorated with gold, holding a golden staff that ended in the shape of a cobra’s head. Long thin hair as black as night coiled down his brown shoulders like snakes in multiple small braids and loose strands decorated with gold, and instantly his sharp gray eyes painted with eyeshadow darted over to you upon noticing your staring. He looked irked, but since you supposedly had a good relationship with him, maybe you could poke and prod without worrying about suffering any consequences. From what you recalled, the vizier’s parrot in the tales was a loud-mouthed creature with a bad temper.

“Welcome back, oh great vizier. So, how did it go?”

“Not a word.” The vizier hissed, sending you a glare. Yet it wasn’t threatening, it felt more… annoyed. Like when your friend was pestering you, except without the light-heartedness. At the least he didn’t snap, he did have the power to command you to be put to death. Yet all he did was give you a look before his frown instantly morphed into a stoic expression in the blink of an eye, so fast that it sent you reeling.

Jamil wasted no time in walking forward, not bothering with greetings as he entered the first room of the dungeon that was dingy and dirty. Inside was the guard from before, nervously standing off to the side just across from a line of prisoners in shackles with their heads hanging low, and more guards behind them. These prisoners reminded you of yourself, but less. Now you’re free of any shackles, you’re wearing fine clothes and eating food made by the best chefs while living in the luxurious palace. To avoid being at the center of attention, you stood off the side, leaning against a corner.

You watched intently, curiously, as Jamil approached the line of prisoners, scanning them all with those sharp eyes as he walked by them slowly. The men and women in rags and chains tensed when he stepped near, but kept their eyes glued to the ground. Whether it was out of respect or fear, you weren’t sure, but you watched as some of them squirmed in place or nervously glanced at him. After a minute of going down the line of a dozen or so prisoners, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the guard who guided you. On his face was obvious disappointment.

“You bring me the rough, but never a diamond.” That cold stare of his remained on the anxious guard, never looking away even as he commanded the others, “Take them away.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head, watching as the other guards forcefully dragged the prisoners down another hall, to a fate unknown. Poor suckers. You could hear them pleading, begging the vizier for mercy from whatever end they knew awaited them. In one rendition of the story, when the princess snuck out of the palace and gave apples to poor children, apples she had no money on her to pay for, she nearly lost her hand as punishment. It was likely that these prisoners were about to lose much more than a single hand.

The meek guard sent you a pleading look as they whispered frantically, “You said you would put in a kind word for me…!”

Turning your attention to them, you scoffed, “I never said that. I said I would follow you.”

“You…!” At your shrug, he directed his sights towards the vizier who was walking away, his back toward him as he seemed to be prepared to follow the guards and prisoners going elsewhere within the dungeon. “Please, my vizier.” The vizier stopped, and the words were caught in the guard’s throat until he finally forced them out with wavering uncertainty, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “... Perhaps this diamond in the rough does not exist…?”

For a moment he paused but didn’t turn around, and quietly replied, “They’re out there.” A response with unwavering certainty.

“But we’ve searched for months!” It appears that the guard was showing signs of frustration as well. Who knows how many prisoners they’ve interrogated and how many criminals they’ve captured in these months, all in an attempt to satisfy the vizier’s wish of finding a diamond in the rough. “I do not understand what could possibly be in that cave that could help a… a man as great as you. You are already second only to the sultan!”

“Second? Uh-oh.” You exclaimed, bracing yourself for what was to come and ignoring the guard’s growing irritation towards you. In the tale, yes the vizier worked for the sultan, he was the sultan’s most trusted advisor. But, behind the vizier’s facade of charm and loyalty, there was only a burning hate for the sultan who believed in him. The vizier wished to be the most powerful man in the kingdom, second to no one. So to be told he was second, straight to his face, would be like a slap. You watched as Jamil turned to the guard with a deep frown, and you could only whistle, “Who’s in trouble now~?”

Jamil turned to face him fully, staring at the guard beneath him with such a piercing gaze before questioning firmly, “Do you believe second is enough?”

Without hesitation, they nodded, the answer to them was obvious. “Yes. You were not born to be sultan, you are not of royal lineage. His Majesty, Kalim Al-Asim, was born to be sultan.”

Kalim Al-Asim. So that was the sultan’s name. The mere sound of it was enough to tick off the vizier, he narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a quiet murmur, “Do you know that I’ve served him my entire life? From the day I was born, they dictated that I was a servant to him and they chained my entire existence so it depended on him.” Slowly he stepped forward, inching closer with every word he spat like venom. “You have no idea of the things I’ve been forced to do for him. The sacrifices I’ve made and blood that’s stained my hands, the bodies I’ve buried and times I’ve watched him be praised for his minimal efforts I can easily best.” The closer he got, the more frightened the guard appeared until he was right in front of them. “Everyone will one day learn that I am not worthy of a mere second place, I am supposed to be first. That’s why I need the lamp, and I no longer need you––!”

Right before your eyes, you watched as Jamil swiftly struck him with the bottom of his staff and he fell backwards into a well. A seemingly bottomless well, because you heard his scream growing distant until an unsettling silence lingered. You covered your mouth in shock, but Jamil paid you no mind. It’s as if he’s done a dozen times before, as if you had witnessed all of them before.

After a moment, he sighed and lowered his staff, regaining his composure to cover up for the anger that slipped through in that moment. Again, in a flash, he had a stoic expression as he turned to gaze at you in the corner, when he beckoned you closer with a motion of his finger. “Come here, my vassal. It’s time for a meeting with that irritating sultan.”

Now you were on your way to meet the sultan. Kalim. You hoped he wasn’t anything like Jamil. This vizier was to be feared, but at least he didn’t seem to mind you. So you probably won’t be pushed down a well anytime soon. As you followed him when he began walking, he questioned abruptly,

“What did you do while I was gone?”

This wasn’t good. You weren’t here for that long before he returned, and you got the feeling that Jamil was a particularly observant fellow judging by how he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “That royal brat confronted me while I was eating. They’re so annoying.”

“Ah, Prince Jaseer?” Slowly he nodded, as if agreeing with your words. Phew. You were doing alright, fitting the role just fine it seemed. “Annoying would be putting it lightly. He’s just another entitled royal born with a golden spoon in his mouth, an ignorant person who knows nothing of how the real world works.”

“You’re telling me. The guy made me bow and recite a greeting like I was nothing but a pleb beneath him! Then he had the gall to say I was lazy! I was eating! Can’t a person like me eat in peace once in a while? I was starving!”

By now you were in a better part of the palace, where you were once again surrounded by riches. Upon hearing your response, Jamil replied without hesitation, “You are lazy when I’m not around.” At his remark, you stared at him incredulously as he continued with zero reservations, “You are uncaring, murderous, deceitful, aggressive, cunning, and annoying.”

Unable to help it, you snapped back in reply, beginning to rant and list off your fingers. “ME? Look in the mirror bud, you just basically described yourself! You’re cruel, immoral, narcissistic, power-hungry, sadistic, and secretly deranged! You’re two-faced, snake!” When you looked over to him, he still had that stoic expression but he rolled his eyes. Your jaw dropped. There was no way he just fucking––

“You used that insult, two-faced snake, two weeks ago.” Before you could add anything more to the growing pile of insults, he lightly tapped your forehead with the cobra head of his golden staff, appearing unbothered. “Come up with something else or get on my level, then you can talk back. For now, be quiet. We’re nearing where Kalim wanted to meet us. I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around the sultan.”

Rubbing your forehead, you glared at him and mumbled, “Oh, I’ll come up with something shocking, you sorry sack of––ACK!” You coughed, bending over in pain as he quickly jabbed the end of his staff against your stomach to shut you up just before a silk curtain separating the halls from a room opened up.

“Jamil! Oh, and your vassal too! I’m so happy to see you guys! You’re just the ones I wanted to see!”

[plor-bindery]

Bound: In My Room by wolfpants

Final installment in my mini-series of “fic I bound and sent to wolf”: In My Room by @wolfpants

I never really gave much thought to the idea of Dron as a pairing, but then wolf went and dropped a little WIP snippet of this on their Tumblr and I was like hoshit this has awakened something in me. And when the full fic was posted, I was completely sold.

Wolf's Ron is so wonderfully flawed and charming and everything we understand canon!Ron (book canon, anyway) to be. He's both insecure and cocky, awkward and appealing, judgemental and fair-minded. Ron in this fic is also 100% an Eighteen Year Old Human, i.e. very sure that he is making Good Choices while he is actually mostly making a series of Bad Choices.

And Draco is such a perfect foil to all of this: postwar Draco, who is a mess of self-doubt and old bigoted reflexes and fragile newborn-wobbly attempts to change, to be better.

(And I won't get into the background Drarry energy, but good god. Harry just fucking HOVERS in this fic. He's still SOMETHING to Draco, and A WHOLE LOT to Ron, even as both of them are doing something that decidedly breaks with both those historical relationships.)

Anyway, wolf's soundtrack to this fic is all 70s, and I have a warm fuzzy feeling for a Ron who's rooted in his parental nostalgia, who grew up with hand-me-down music tastes and groovy avocado blankets and plastic Muggle artefacts. When I spotted the paper that became this book's endpapers, everything came into focus for this bind.

More below the cut.

Materials: This is a quarto letter bind on cream 24 lb paper, using a fucking delightful shade of green wooqu bookcloth. But the real star is the endpaper choice, which I picked up at a Paper Source in DC in August. (We don't have this in Canada, I was very very happy.) It's got some subtle gold foiling on it, but the pattern and palette is so very 70s. (I'm a Xennial myself, so this print feels like everything that was just a shade out of fashion when I was a small Plor.)

Endbands are machine made.

The cover art is HTV and it went on fairly well? Ish?

Process: The typeset was quick for this short fic, which is a single chapter. I backfilled the final half-empty signature with the lyrics from wolf's playlist for the fic. (This is probably borderline in terms of transformative works and copyright but uhhhh too late.)

The book was a fairly straightforward case bind. I've been using the Bradel-style case construction for most of my case binds, where you use a strip of cardstock to build the spine/hinges on, and then trim the fore edges down on the boards. This can sometimes show up as slightly creased grooves in the hinges if you're not super careful with the bone folder, but I still prefer it to the guesswork of measuring and then building a whole case, covering it, and realizing it's the wrong size.

When I bound my own copy of this fic (after the copy for wolf! which is not how I usually roll, but the first copy was good???) I did take the plunge and build the case in this more traditional way, and it went perfectly. I'm still scared to try it again. Book board is expensive?

The HTV is the most layered I've ever done, and it was SO FUN to build the tiny record player out of layers of vinyl. When I did a test cut of the art, I was filled with the glee of Tiny Dollhouse Feelings. The chess board on the back with its various symbology was just fun. And the spine features an extremely unsubtle nod to the pairing and dynamic with the yellow/blond chess pawn and the orange/ginger knight.

And this concludes my tour of the works I bound for wolf! I'm now nearly finished another little gift parcel for another amazing author, sooo in 2-3 months' time, I should have another round of gift binds to share. (Most of that is shipping time because oceans.) Stay tuned!

[empressmcblondie]

As you know I'm already down this Shauna and Jackie rabbit hole (this pun is absolutely intended), and so, I wanted to touch upon something else I've noticed. During 1x01, we see Shauna's rabbit collection, and obviously, in 1x06 Shauna receives a little ceramic rabbit from Mrs. Taylor under the impression that "Jackie just adored rabbits." Now... Shauna's facial expression in reaction to this statement is very telling. She plays along with whatever this is. Yes, Jackie adored rabbits, sure thing... And because of that, I adore rabbits now because I've become a Jackie substitute in the eyes of her bereaved parents. Initially I scratched this off as a mother who didn't actually know her teenage daughter well enough, which is pretty on brand. The Taylors give me perfect-on-paper-but-dysfunctional-in-reality energy with a lot of the tension coming from Jackie's relationship with her mother. Jackie herself denounces this connection to rabbits quite explicitly in the immediate scene that follows when she and Shauna go checking the traps, referring to the animal as a "squirrel with floppy ears and a pompom on its ass." Clearly, Jackie did not care for rabbits whatsoever. But... Where did Mrs. Taylor even get the idea that Jackie likes rabbits in the first place? It has to have come from somewhere, no? It did.

It most likely came from Shauna.

Shauna's room in 1x01.

You can see the small ceramic rabbit, strategically placed beneath the light in Shauna's room, linking her to the animal explicitly. It's not that Shauna took it upon herself to love rabbits because of Jackie's parents. It's that Shauna projected her own love for rabbits (to whatever length that went) onto Jackie. Just like with the journal in my previous post... Shauna is rewriting Jackie not just by taking on Jackie characteristics as her own, but by inserting her own characteristics into Jackie posthumously.

Shauna's confession of "I don't even know where you end and I begin" (also a Radiohead song) takes on a whole new layer of meaning. It's not just that Shauna doesn't know anymore... But we, the audience, don't either. It's becoming increasingly difficult to understand who Jackie is. What elements of Jackie's life are actually Jackie's doing and what are props, planted by Shauna... Small edits she makes to match the story that she tells herself in her own head. Anyways, as always, this show is a gift that keeps on giving.

[moonlight-tmd]

so what if prowl and shockwave blitzwing react to bumlebee is carrying sparking?

Oh damn uh, well.

I will take this a a separate ships reaction cuz I have no idea how to write all 3.

Ooh boy, it's gonna be a long one.

BlitzBee- I have already written something similar in this post so you might wanna give that a read. Another take would be that Bee got sparked on accident after Blitz joins Team Prime. He went a little too rough on his hummel during their nightly activities and oops, energy leak n all, they got a newspark.

Of course Bee doesn't even know until he's at 3rd week carrying. Cue the shock, panic and the confused crying on Bee's behalf. Robotic hormones be doin shit to a mech. Bee's frame is defective by forging so he's not supposed to be carrying, they didn't wanna terminate it so they thought about moving the newspark for Blitzwing to carry (he's not ideal either but more safe than Bee carrying).

Unfortunately, the newspark seemed to attach itself to Bee's spark chamber making it dangerous to perform the surgery. Bee was put on leave with strict rules of what he can and cannot do. Blitzwing was worried of course, his hummel didn't seem to take it seriously and threw a fit whenever he was told no. He tried to be around to make sure Bee doesn't do anything stupid, but alas...

He was only supposed to fly out to get a package and returned to Bee beign hospitalized in medbay; apparently Sari has climbed the tree outside the base while Bee was getting his dose of sunlight and fell- Bee managed to run up and catch her but moments later he collapsed clutching his chassis in pain.

When Blitz was asked to come into medbay after Bee woke up they didn't receive good news... There was no sign of the newspark on the scanner. Bee sobbed his spark out that day, his pitiful wailing was heard all thorough the base, Blitzwing could only hold him while he desperately tried to hold himself together.

It was difficult for all of them but the one who got hit the most was Bee. All he did was lay in his berth and not speak. He refused to eat unless Blitzwing or Ratchet forced him to. The others were extremely worried about him but understood that he needed time. Blitzwing himself was having a hard time coping and basically without a sparkmate to help him he started being aggressive.

One evening he came back home from a call with other teammates and went straight to check on Bee. He thought the scout was sleeping at first but then he noticed his faded colors. He wouldn't wake up no matter how much he called or shook him, Blitzwing just picked him up and ran to medbay.

It was then that Ratchet discovered that their newspark hasn't actually faded, it shrank to the point of not being detected by the old scanner and was now almost twice as big as it was before. It was draining Bee's frame of nutrients and energy, the scout got the appropriate shots and IVs, after he woke up he didn't quite understand what they were saying but once Blitzwing repeated the diagnosis he cried.

After the rollercoaster of emotions Bee has become basically immobile and had to be carried everywhere. He could walk on his own but after what happened he refused to even go close to whatever could negatively impact him. Walking, emotional movies, even majority of his games were left untouched for the rest 3 months of carrying. He blamed himself for nearly killing their child and he wasn't gonna repeat that mistake.

Then one night he woke up with chassis pains again, the emergence date was close so everyone was on edge. Blitzwing rushed him to medbay and by the dawn there was a bitlet peacefully napping in the makeshift baby cot. That night a storm was happening, Bee promptly named the bitty Thunderbolt after he heard one strike after emergence. It was a seeker, colored yellow and beige and purple optics, definitely taking after his sire in size.

But that's not where it ends, about 3 months later, Blitzwing got sparked and they had to get more protoforms. Bee was paranoid about Blitzwing even lifting a wing, especially since his mood swings gotten worse during carrying but he was following the doctor's orders to the word. They got a pair of twins, tiny grounders like Bee colored purple and black with faces and optics matching Blitzwing's other faces. Frost for blue wiht red optics and Flame for red with blue optics. They both got little yellow horns to contrast their colors. The seeker will grow little above Blitzwing's half of height with an aqua plane as alt, while the twins will be Bee-sized with topless jeeps as alts.

ProwlBee- It's a similar story as with BlitzBee; they get rough, Bee's sparked on accident, they find out x amount of time later BUT- they manage to get Prowl to carry the newspark. Prowl caught that something was up pretty early on so there was time. They didn't plan on it yet but there were definitely thoughts about it from time to time.

Bee however has never been more worrisome. He made sure Prowl had everything he needed and more and may or may not have been spoiling him a bit much. It only got worse when Prowl felt weaker and they had to make a check and discovered the newspark has split into 3. It was more than they expected but they would manage.

While Prowl was generally calm about everything Bee wasn't doing as good, on top of what i said earlier he also starter pulling allnighters the closer the due date was. He couldn't let himself be sleepin in case something horrible will happen. Which is why after delivering the bitties one afternoon he immediately crashed after he got a fair look at them and slept for nearly 2 days. They were triplets and definitely taking more after Prowl frame-wise with horns of course. One was yellow and gold, named Chi. The other one was silver and black, named Typhoon. and The third one (which actually emerged first) was black and yellow, they named it Shuriken. All had blue optics. All would grow to be as tall as Bee with quads as alt modes.

Now ShockBee. Longarm and Bee's relationship was more of a long distance one. Long visited sometimes but it wasn't enough for Bee. He knew Longarm had a job and couldn't just ditch it to spend time with him but he still tried to come up with excuses so that Longarm will have to stay with him for longer... never in a million years would he think of getting sparked though. Bee has tried to be more lustful as a way to keep Long around more but this was a complete unplanned event that he didn't predict.

He didn't even know how to break the news to Longarm, but he supposed it couldn't be bad since Longarm also loved him, right..? He couldn't have been more wrong.

When Longarm came to visit and Bee took him to speak in private and told him all happy, the first thing he heard was to terminate the newspark. Longarm wasn't asking for his opinion, Bee was told to do it and that's it. He argued with Long but all he got was that he doesn't want the sparkling and can't take care of it.

Bee has never seen Longarm so cold to him before. He left saying that he had something important to take care of and Bee would terminate it. Bee was torn and panicking later that evening; he didn't wanna upset his sparkmate but at the same time he didn't want to lose the sparkling that he's grown attached to in the short time he had it.

Bulkhead was there to comfort him, he suggested that he should talk with Longarm one more time before making the decision. So Bee did, he called Longarm to come visit once more and tried to talk with him about it once more. But it was useless. Longarm was set of getting rid of the newspark, even threatening to split up with Bee if he doesn't. In that moment Bee failed to recognise the one he loved and just stared at him before calmly stating he'll keep the sparkling and whether Longarm wants to be in its life it or not is his own choice. Longarm left shortly after that, saying nothing but that he knows his answer.

Bee cried his spark out at night, unable to comprehend why a mech that loved him would be so cruel. Bee was put on leave and did everything he could to make sure the newspark grows safe and strong. It all made sense once Longarm was discovered a spy and was send to stockades. Everyone was shocked and questioning anyone for anything they might know from when they had contact with Longarm. Bee's relationship was kept secret to other Elite Guard, the information about his sparkling's sire was shoved under the rug as well by Team Prime. They knew Bee was innocent and manipulated by Shockwave, so if the information he was sparked by him leaked Bee would never know peace again.

The mere shock of the discovery hit Bee like a freight train, so much to the point he went into early emergence from the stress. The newspark was weak so it had to be supported while in the protoform. The bitty was yellow and black with teal details and antlers when it onlined properly, Bee named it Radio. It turned out to be medium class grounder, while skinny and usually quite taller than Bee. It chose an old type of camaro as alt mode.

PHEW there we go, that's all of them. Hope ya like it cuz I'm all outta writing juice.