#been backing up all my files and got nostalgic

[mawchops]

Redrew some characters from my flipnote era

[tinydefector]

Iron Giant 4

Warings: none

Word count: 1.7k

Woooo finally did more for this fic and also got some inspiration from the ask which was about Optimus reacting to Baking from ages back so enjoy.

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A small smile graces their lips as they try not to give away the fact they know he's watching them, they can see the blue optic following them, through the window. Each time they look over they can see him trying to make it look as if he wasn't watching and in truth it was delightful watching such a large being who was too shy to ask what they were doing.

"Hello Optimus" they call out, eyes flicking over to him as a smirk forms on their lips when he looks almost like a deer caught in headlights. His optics brighten at the sound of his designation spoken so familiarly from them that it nearly makes his spark sing. creases forming at the corners of his lips. "Hello" he rumbles kindly in return, angling himself so that he could watch now that he had been caught red handed.

"If I may, what are you doing?." The curiosity is evident in his voice as the circles of his optics continue to trace their movement through the kitchen. A faint memory file flickering across his HUD, faces long lost to millennia past. It almost reminded him of an Energon chemist, making sweets and flavour rations. It's like a hollow ache, but watching makes it not hurt nearly as much.

A soft chuckle leaves them as they begin measuring out ingredients for baking. "You know you're more than welcome to watch" they call back "I'm just making kiddos favourites, easier to keep baked goods than it is constantly shopping for sweets, plus cheaper too" they remark.

Optimus watches with avid curiosity, soaking in every small detail as the carrier sets skillfully to their task. In some aspects it was alien but in others it was nostalgic to watch something being crafted. "Fascinating," he rumbles quietly. "Is this how you Preserve fuel?, I haven't seen anything crafted as such before, so forgive me." He goes quiet for a moment just watching. “Your youngling likes these?” He inquires, which earns him another smile from the human.

“Yea kiddo happens to love homemade cookies as long as i don't put raisins into them, but don't get me started on homemade pickled veggies, can't get enough of them” they laugh while making sure that the vinegar, water and salt were to the right ratio.

"Might I inquire about the functions of the elements?." Optics brighten eagerly. “Well you see these are Organic and if left to long out in the air and heat they will start to wither and wilt, sometimes they will go bad and get mouldy, so when you mix the right stuff together you can preserve them to last long.” they explain while cutting up the different vegetables and adding them into the large jar.

He remains still and silent, enjoying just watching them work. optics drink in each subtle movement and instruction they explain, processing and learning all he could, he may not be able to ever do something like this himself but it was therapeutic to just watch.

They move again this time back to the Oven as they pull another tray out. placing it on the bench before throwing another one filled with biscuits to cook. "I'd offer you one but don't know if you can eat them" they call out to him. Optimus rumbles a weary chuckle, sagging slightly into the dirt as he stretches. He looks over his shoulder for a moment to watch the little one playing.

"Regrettably my fuel lines wouldn't process the compounds" he murmurs lightly, amusement in his tone." There are few things on your planet that I can consume, Diesel is one I tend to resort to." A contented sigh leaves him. Diesel wasn't as filling as Energon but it kept him functioning and meant he didn't have to remember that horrid device.

They shoot him another look. "Do you have any sort of snacks you miss from your home?" They inquire as they move to lean against the open window brushing the flour off their clothing. Optimus's optics crinkle thoughtfully at the query, "Simple energon treats were often very hard to come by, even more rare for high class rations," he rumbles.

"Mostly high class Mechs were the ones who would have access to them." He trails gently, "but Crystallised sweets fashioned from refined energon centres are one that I enjoyed when I could afford them."

They give an almost sad look to the big blue and Red mechas hearing that. His optics flicker back to them with a smile. So they take the opportunity to wipe a small bit of batter across his nasal ridge before laughter bursts from them, seeing the surprised look on his faceplate. " Sorry, sorry I couldn't help myself" they wheezed through laughter.

Optimus pauses in mild surprise, optics blinking rapidly at the unexpected touch. It takes but a moment for his systems to process and identify the substance smeared across his faceplate, and a low chuckle rumbles from him bemused amusement as his optics focus in on them.

"Ah, so the youngling isn't the only one who seeks trouble," he chuckles lightly while trying to wipe the batter off, he raises a digit to sample the sweet residue left behind, analysing slowly as his optics begin to break down the different compounds in it.

Their eyes crinkle as they smile more, giving a small come hither motion with their finger as they lean against the window waiting for him to lean down. A sly smile on their lips as if mischief was on the prowl.

He lowered his helm and chassis to give better access to his faceplate. Trusting they were about to steer even more of it across his nasal ridge. They lean out the window, wiping the rest off before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his faceplate. It's quick but it makes Optimus' spark flutter in delight.

"Would you mind taking some of these out to kiddo me?" They voice is overly sweet and Optimus in that moment doesn't care that they are trying to sweeten him up to do their bidding.

For a moment, he can hardly speak, optics blinking rapidly. But slowly, he regains composure, "you'll fry this rusting mech's circuits if you keep that up," he rumbles warmly, unable to restrain the hint of tender playfulness creeping into his own tone.

"Though I find myself willing too." He inclines his helm hopefully. "A small exchange is a fair toll, for transporting treats, would you not agree?" He was feeling rather bold this time.

They roll their eyes playful, sauntering up to the window again, lending it again with the tray of a few cookies beside them. "very well, I accept the extra charge" they hum before leaning out the window slightly and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Optimus' plating warms significantly as the carrier leans close once more, softly pressing tantalising contact to his lip. A low, pleased rumble resonates through his massive frame, as he savours the fleeting exchange, optics flutter, only opening once once they pull away, ending it far too quickly for his liking. But contentment glows off him as servo raises accepting the tray of cookies intended for the little one.

"Thank you," he murmurs, audial fins flicking slightly as he moves back slowly so he can stand. The little one looks up in excitement as they see him walking towards them with the tray. “Cookies!!!” They shout out in excitement and they pull themself out of the sand pit and make their way to meet Optimus halfway. As Optimus feels another chuckle leave him as he walks towards them.

A loud crack across the sky makes his frame freeze beside the large tree, gears and fan belts whining as his helm snaps towards the sky. The sound was one he knew all too well, it had terrorised him and the Autobots far too long. The ominous sound of a Jet engine ripping across the sky.

His battle protocols surge instantly online, optics scanning the horizon, his other Servo drops the tray of sweets as he scoops the little one up, holding them flush against his chassis. sheer panic fills him, why were they here, how had they found him. And guttural fear fills him when he realises just where he was and the sweet youngling he held protectively.

Optics dart desperately to the fragile human now staring up in confusion at him before their eyes dart to the sky over the loud Whistle and clap in the sky. His optics land of the source, a Blue and black seeker with smoke billowing from his frame comes into view. but before he can even plan an attack or defence he watches as the seeker seems to almost fall out of the sky in the distance.

"What was that?" The older human ask running to the doorway of the house when they hear the crash in the distance. Optimus's optics remain grimly trained on the treeline for a long moment after the flash of blue disappears.

A metallic grinding issue from his tightly-set denta His free servo curls protectively around the little one as their carrier calls out, "Decepticon," he rumbles low, meeting concerned faces with optics that bear weight of worry.

"Crashed maybe half click out, seemed damaged. But I won't take chances, gather essentials quickly. If you hear fighting you run" he pleads, his optics bright as he looks at their face as if begging that they go if something happens. He would be dismantled before letting any harm come to either of them. "Hurry now," he urges gently, lowering the child down into their parents arms.

"It's one like you isn't, like the Soldier's warned?" They ask Optimus while hiking their child up their hip, worry etched into their own face. "Par what's going on, loud bang!" Their child says while watching the sky.

Optimus nods solemnly, grief and regret settling into his frame. "Yes," he rumbles low, “I ensure no danger comes to you, but if there are more its not safe for you. You will take your little one and not turn back." They nod before darting back into the house.

Rising carefully. "I'll scout crash, when i come back be ready to jump in" Without further word, he struts, cogs and palting slowly shifts back down into the damaged Peterbilt, smoke comes from him for a moment before he rolls down the grass only to disappear into the tree line.

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[nabi-unveiled]

When Head and Heart Disagree

So I finally hit play on the ThamePo finale. This had been the finale I was most nervous about the other week so I held off. The more I believe in the writing, the more nervous finales make me.

You see - I had really appreciated certain aspects of the writing of ThamePo, and the characters were fully fleshed out. I actually have very few head canons for this show which is a sign that my brain hasn't got stuck often. But finales are just so hard to write well. In some ways, I'd rather a show have (reasonable) problems the whole time than a good show fail me in the finale. It's less disappointing.

That said, ThamePo had a fairly strong finale. There were a lot of good, solid moments.

The "I noticed that, and I appreciated it" moments:

Nano was bringing it as always. Nano was a delight every time they were on screen.

The phone cases matched their mugs. Cute.

Baifern showed growth in a way that felt realistic to her character.

Baifern's reaction to meeting Thame was fun.

Pepper & Gam 🩷

They're still having fun movie nights even if they never finish the movie. 😉

The sandwiches were back. 🥰 Even if I did think the feeding each other was a bit cringe, I'll never oppose food symbolism.

As someone who wrote a script involving Mars this week, I liked the playfulness of some of the concert materials. Is it gimmicky? Absolutely. I enjoy gimmicks though. The nerd in me approved.

The "I noticed that, but it doesn't really matter" moments:

I always find "the file is on a USB" hilarious in these types of large scale, professional events. Presentation? Maybe. But concert? Even our local community center doesn't use USBs for that type of stuff anymore. Maybe it's different elsewhere though. In the end, it doesn't really matter. Just makes me chuckle.

I didn't think the suits were actually that great during their comeback, but I appreciate the gesture of including Po.

Thame wears his mask on a whim. That tracks though. There's been no rhyme nor reason to his mask-wearing the entirety of the show.

The "it still doesn't make sense, but we're rolling with it" moments:

If Mars could easily pull a crowd that big, there's no good reason Pemika would be trying to break them up. Successful groups handle solo promotions all the time while remaining a group. However, that's been the premise for the entire series, and lot of the idol representations haven't been accurate. I willingly suspended disbelief on that score near the beginning of the series.

The "plan" also didn't make realistic sense, but I didn't expect it to. I'll roll with it for the narrative's sake and entertainment value. Thame was clearly moved after all.

There are not a lot of "negatives" there. No major crimes. It delivered pretty much what it had set up all along.

So why do my head and heart disagree?

It's personal. I know. Overall, I felt like the show closed out most of its narrative threads. It gave a plausible resolution for most characters, and it didn't leave big questions really hanging over our heads. There were a lot of cute moments, and it's obvious that our main couple are madly in love and happy with their life together. My head says I should be satisfied.

But this show has always treaded into personal spaces for me. On the surface, that may be a little strange given it's premise about an idol group. However, this show is really about relationships and desires. It's asking, "What do you want out of life? What's most important?".

In the early episodes, I felt nostalgic. Thame and Po's flirting reminded me of all of the phone calls, long walks and "marathon dates" (as my mom called them) with my now-husband when we were courting. The phone number bit reminded me that my husband kept the scrap of paper where I wrote my number down for him almost 20 years ago. He still carries it in his wallet. I give Thame props though - we'd be screwed if we had needed to rely on my husband's memory.

I loved when Thame comes to Po's house for the first time. The awkwardness but just pure sexual tension of the "will we or won't we" moments was so much fun for me. I always enjoy seeing these types of moments portrayed well. Twenty years ago, even fifteen years ago, I would have ran forward with that energy and this finale would have made me squeal in delight.

In the later episodes, we see our leads struggling with choices. We get the epic "you don't have to have a dream" (in terms of career) idea presented by our favorite suit shop owner. It's a thought that's so rarely verbalized in society and media. It's an incredibly important message. Only you can decide what success looks like for you, and it's okay if it's not the version of success that other people envisioned for you. Living a simple life with the ones you love by your side is a type of success.

10-12 years ago when I was struggling with career choices and a new understanding of myself, I realized that I really couldn't have it all. I had already tried to make it work for years, and I couldn't.

At that time, I would have found this message and finale refreshing and healing. I would've taken comfort in it. It would have soothed my soul then and reassured me that I was making the right choice. That happiness together was the most important thing.

But the me now? The me that knows what those choices feel like a decade down the road? It now questions whether the choice was necessary. Because sometimes the choice IS necessary and sometimes it is not. Sometimes it's about valuing yourself as much as the other person. Sometimes it's a matter of the other person realizing you are sacrificing and encouraging you to find mystery door #3.

I'm not saying Thame doesn't love Po. He does. Immensely so. He would exhaust himself to make everything work out. He would give his everything for Po. I am saying he's a very young person who may not even process fully what exactly Po is choosing to sacrifice. After all, Jun scored that point. And interpret it however you want, Po gave up his job for Thame.

You see, Po is struggling before the finale with the idea that he's met "success", but he's still unhappy. It's because what he wants most is Thame. He chooses to prioritize their happiness together at the expense of doing something that he was good at and enjoyed.

Getting fired from Oner shouldn't have meant that Po had to give up directing or creating completely, but apparently it did in his mind.

It's important to remember, he was a director before Earn too. It's not like directing was some random job for Po. He enjoys it. A lot.

Now Po doesn't mind working in the suit shop. I'd even go so far as to say he enjoys it. Just like I have always found a way to enjoy my work. I try to find joy wherever I can. It's how I make it through some truly awful shows 😂.

But Po never talks about the suit shop the same way as he does the MV or any of his creative work. He's never going to take pride in it the same way. Compare the reaction above when he got the director position to this reaction below when the suits he made are on TV. That's arguably the "high point" of his work in the suit shop. There was a very different feel from Po in these two scenes.

Po doesn't really want to talk about the suit shop at the reunion in the finale. Baifern helps change that subject real quick and moves the focus to his boyfriend who turns out to be a celebrity. My head says that is supposed to demonstrate that his work wasn't the important thing. That traditional success isn't what's important.

But....

I really wish Thame had not come to the reunion. I'll say again, this is not about Thame. Thame pulls Po in immediately. He includes him in the picture. Po is his everything. But this is Po's space. A space he hadn't felt comfortable in previously.

My head KNOWS this dialogue is supposed to convey that Po is stronger with Thame by his side. That they are happy, because they are together. My heart sees the domesticity and happiness, but it adds a whole lot of layers and undertones. It's not convinced that this is the fairy tale happiness being sold. I just wish that Po had felt he was good enough to come to the reunion without Thame. Would he have come if Thame was busy? Maybe. We don't know.

It's important to note this is all very different than Thame's struggle and choice. Thame had a dream. Po recognized that. When fighting the company, Po says that his wish was for Thame to get what he wanted. Thame's dream was to perform with Mars AND have Po. He just didn't want the version of success Pemika offered. Thame rejects the dream someone else (and society) had for him and keeps the dream he had for himself. He gets both Mars AND Po.

Thame gets to confidently say he'll be a poor artist, but that the group will figure it out. He'll live his days happily with Po and figure out how to get to Korea on his own terms. In many ways, it's what he's ALWAYS wanted.

While Po says "all I can do" is work at the suit shop.

He's given up on the idea that he can have both. Is that really the message they wanted to convey? I don't think so. I think that wanted us to perceive Po being satisfied with the suit shop and not needing a "dream job" to be happy and feel valuable. It would show his growth from where he started at the beginning of the show.

But note the language here? Po still refers to the suit shop as essentially being less than being a director. It's not that he's choosing to work at the suit shop because that's what he truly wanted. He's choosing this path because it's the only path he saw giving him Thame. He's choosing Thame. But I ask again - is this a choice he really needed to make? There are other companies and even directorial work outside of the music industry.

Thame responds with what is supposed to be loving reassurance and support. My head tells me that. Just like it told me that 12 years ago when my husband supported my choice to change paths.

My head says that Po & Thame are obviously happy together. We all saw that super domestic montage. My head says to just be satisfied. But my heart isn't convinced.

Because I have learned the value in looking for mystery door #3. I wouldn't trade my years in my "suit shop", but I'm much better off now that I've found the mystery door. Was anything wrong with working at "the suit shop"? Absolutely not. But my heart didn't always believe me. Am I currently living the original version of success I saw for myself? Absolutely not. I didn't actually need that. But I no longer change the subject when someone asks me what I do for a living. My heart now believes IN me.

Which is why, in the end, I'm going to have to create a head canon here. They're still young. They'll figure it out. Hopefully sooner, rather than later. Something like Po eventually develops his own business putting wedding videos together for the people who buy his suits. Or that he becomes someone that takes side gigs helping with MVs for striving artists, social media videos for local businesses, or content of some kind. I don't need him to be a fancy-pants director at a big company. Not at all. But I need him to have an outlet for his creativity and talent. I need him to know that it's okay for him to pursue something if he wants to do so. I need him to have a personal identity outside of Thame. We know Thame will support him, but Po is going to have to look for that door himself. Thame isn't going to notice he needs it.

They'll need to keep figuring it out together. Because this promise? It takes a lot more work than you think it will at 20.

This finale was solid. Will I watch it again? Probably not. I'll stick to other episodes that don't leave me reliving those feelings of "all I can do is".

P.S. I really do wish we had got to see Po pick up and carry Thame. That's definitely going into my head canons.

[snezus-christ-risen]

Archiving some of my old Avengers fic from the forum because I’m feeling nostalgic. This one takes place shortly after Clint meets Natasha. I will always adore this duo. ❤️ This was from a collection of Firsts — I’ll post more as I get to them.

First (Ride on a SHIELD Jet)

Natasha Romanoff | Illness

Nobody spoke for that first half hour.

Clint Barton sat quietly, watching his guest and occasionally getting up to check the coordinates or refill his coffee. The plane was on autopilot, which allowed him to remain alert in case Miss Romanova tried anything funny. She was cuffed for such purposes, but Clint had seen less skilled adversaries escape the shackles before. Sparing her life didn't mean he trusted her. In fact, he was starting to question his decision more and more as they got closer to the base.

“Ever been on a plane like this before?” he said at last, beginning to chip away at the thickest wall of ice he ever felt between himself and another person.

She shook her head, almost automatically, and then seemed annoyed at herself for responding. Clint didn't focus too much on her reply, instead looking down at the mug of coffee between his hands. He wondered if there were any miniature powdered donuts left in the pantry.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, already up and halfway to the small kitchen area towards the back of the cabin.

She shook her head again, but he nearly missed it. “I know you can talk,” he said. "Your file says you speak over a dozen languages. You had no problem cursing me out in several of them before. Why the silence now?”

Natasha only stared at him, though a subtle force tugged at her lips. It almost looked like she was about to smile. Frustrated with the games and with himself for falling for them, he turned and strode towards the coffee machine for another refill.

“Tea,” she said.

He looked back to find her gazing at him intently. “Tea?”

She nodded.

“Sure.” He would have to go digging, but he was sure he had some stashed away. “Black okay?”

She nodded again. He turned away but then stopped to glance back at her again, about to ask whether or not she wanted anything extra. Instead he caught her in the midst of a stifled sneezing fit. After a quick scrunching of her expression and three or four barely noticeable head bobs, Natasha opened her eyes just long enough to realize she had an audience. Another sneeze escaped like a panicked inmate left behind in a jailbreak, this time with greater force than its predecessors. Her body jerked forward so violently that Clint could hear the chains straining.

“h’AH-CHHHhh!”

Natasha brought up her hands up to rub at her nose, forgetting for a moment that she was still bound. The tips of her fingers brushed the end of her nose, irritatingly close but unable to provide the pressure she needed to subdue the itch. She leaned into her fingers, her whole body scrunching up as it succumbed to another sudden sneeze.

“eh’TCHSHHh!”

She sniffled once, but it was enough for Clint to hear the substantial level of congestion in her airways. Now he understood why she was being so quiet today.

“Gesundheit,” he offered politely, trying not to smirk as she bristled with annoyance. “You should have told me you were feeling sick.”

“I’mb ndot,” she spat, revealing the blunted consonants she’d tried to hide with her silence. “It's the recycled air on this plane, муда́к.”

Natasha Romanova just insulted his plane, but all Clint could think about was if and how he could trick her into letting him take her temperature. It would be unfortunate if she was feeling unwell; she had a long week ahead of her once they landed.

They both did, Clint realized grimly. There would be a lot of questions for him, too. It was possible that his position in the agency was in jeopardy. And yet, looking at Natasha, he knew that he’d made the right call.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Bacon King [26]

TW: very slight smut & marijuana use. ALSO 100K ON WATTPAD I LOVE U GUYS SM WTF!!! seriously would not be here without all of you :,) <333

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"Good morning sleepy little princesses!"

I scrunch my closed eyes, wincing at the bright light that pushes past my eyelids.

"Fuck, Ash," I hear Larry groan frustratedly. I open an eye and peek over, noting Emo Buff Daddy himself throwing an arm over his eyes. "It's too damn early!"

The Faces and I camped out in me and Ash's partially empty living room last night-- well, some of The Faces. Todd and Neil ditched us for their own apartment, which is fair. But the other two men decided to hang out.

I'll say that sharing an air mattress with Ash has been quite an experience. I've slept in the same bed with her before, but this kind of bed just causes her to naturally gravitate toward me. Every night lately, I wake up at some point with her legs wrapped around mine in some kind of sailor's knot that I never imagined was possible.

As for Larry and Sal, I have no idea. Sal goes to bed late and he wakes up early. He's a fucking freak of nature.

"Oh, come on, you whiny little bitch," Ash teases her male twin playfully, ripping the blankets off him. "It's nine in the morning! We're going to y/n's to start packing up her stuff at ten. It's wake up time!"

That's true. I glance at the stacks of boxes around the wide expanse of our living room. We don't have furniture yet-- we still need to buy some and wait for the last moving truck to bring the bigger things Ash is taking from Nockfell. But for the most part, we've got everything here, which means my stuff is next.

With a little more grumbled complaints from Larry, the four of us finally leave our new apartment and meet up with Todd and Neil to start heading to my apartment on the other end of town.

An Uber the size of a soccer mom's mini van drops us off in front of my apartment complex and the group of us file out. Todd is busy telling Neil about the diner I worked at literally about two weeks ago-- not that he knows that.

At the mention though, I look over at the diner, feeling a little nostalgic. That is, up until Ophelia walks bounds up to the front door. I blink at my friend, furrowing my brows. What are the chances?

I yell her name, let Ash know where I'm going, then jog over to my friend who looks so pleasantly excited to see me.

"Y/n, holy shit!" She exclaims when I'm close enough, careful not to say my name too loud since Mike undoubtedly told her that The Faces didn't know about me at the time. "Girl, where have you been?"

"Um, back in my hometown, actually," I tell her with a little grin, enveloping her slightly taller figure in a tight hug.

"I heard you got fired," she cringes upon stepping back, looking down at me worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yea!" I answer, retaining my easygoing smile. "I'm streaming with The Faces. It's proven to be good income. We haven't done any videos lately because we're busy moving into a new apartment, but things have been fine otherwise." I stop my ranting and focus in on the apology I've been meaning to give her. "Also, I am so sorry about what led to me getting fired. Please relay that to Mike, too. I thought he was going to have a heart attack in front of The Faces."

"I know," Ophelia cracks up, covering her mouth with a hand. "I was watching from the bar. Poor, Mike. He could not keep it together! The sperm bank thing was hilarious." She sobers up to tell me, "But congratulations on everything else. I'm happy for you!"

I laugh with her, giving her another hug. "Thank you. But seriously, once I'm settled in my new apartment, I'll invite you guys over to hang out. I miss you," I say honestly, holding her close.

"We'd love to!" She gasps excitedly, squeezing me tight before backing away. "Just send me a text and we'll be there."

"Sounds good," I tell her. "It was nice seeing you! Have a good shift."

"You too!" She says, waving. But she pauses thinking about her words, furrowing her brows. "You don't have a shift. Forgot," she giggles to herself as she backs toward the diner, giving me little finger guns. "Love you!"

"Love you, Lia," I call back with a bright smile. She's such a character.

I walk back to The Faces quickly and lead them up to my apartment, unlocking the door and letting everyone in. I haven't been here in a while.

The day after we came back from Nockfell, Ash and I stopped by to grab some clean clothes and necessities, but I haven't been back since.

I haven't seen my dad since I left LA about two weeks ago. I called him to cry about Ash inviting me to live with her and he fangirled with me over the phone, but besides that, we haven't spoken much.

And Travis, that little ass. When I came back earlier this week, he had left a sticky note on my bed that said, 'Since you wouldn't let me send a dick pic to the singer, here.' He proceeded to scratch out three failures before finally settling on the most mediocre drawing of a dick I've ever seen in my life. But he tried, I guess.

The point is, being back home is nice-- even if it technically isn't home anymore.

Ash, ever the goddess, brought a ton of stuff to cook lunch today. I think pork chops, french fries, and snack packs of chocolate pudding cups. Though, I think it was Larry's influence that got us the snack packs.

Ash sets up shop in my kitchen, outraged at the fact that Dad bought normal salt and not Himalayan salt for her 'exquisite five star meal.'

I sit with the rest of my friends in the living room and make the split second decision to start streaming from my phone. Since I'm not doing anything right now, why not? I've got to make this bread.

I turn my phone around the room, earning a middle finger from Sal who's laid back on my couch watching some kind of play through of a Call of Duty Zombie's Easter Egg. Odd stuff. But he seems to enjoy it so I don't mind, especially given the circumstances of him moving here.

He's been really quiet this week.

Todd and Neil wave, and then I flip the screen to show me and Larry. The man has his face squished against mine so he can get into the screen. I have to adjust my mask with my free hand to make sure the squishing doesn't reveal me at all, but I have a good laugh with him anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, Ash finishes her lunch so I show my subscribers her lovely food then end the stream, grabbing a plate of food to eat with everyone.

As soon as I finish my last bite, there's a knock at my door.

I rush over to the door, ripping it open to see a grinning Nate with a plate of brownies in his hand. What a godsend.

I hop up on my toes to give him a tight hug, feeling about as giddy as I can possibly be. I haven't seen him in weeks at this point.

"Hey, Ducks," Nate drawls in that silky, deep voice of his. His free hand wraps around my waist, his head leaning down to rest against my shoulder. His voice is muffled by my hair as he continues speaking, "Looks like you didn't die back home. Shame."

I swat at his arm, taking an opportunity to snatch the brownies away from him. The smile I give him is a bit of a petty one, but it's a smile nonetheless. "You'd never get that damn screwdriver back if I died, just remember that," I remind him, breaking away from his embrace. His warm palm follows my body though, attached to the small of my back.

Nate rolls his dark eyes, tongue in cheek as he contemplates my reasoning. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing you made it back." His gaze has fallen on the rest of my friends now though-- the friends who watch us silently. Ash's cheeks are painted a lovely rouge color but she somehow manages to look our way.

Seeing Ash all flustered around a guy of all things is hilarious. She's so confident with women, and now she's fumbling for the right reaction.

"These are The Faces, as you probably know," I tell Nate, a happy sigh falling past my lips. I start naming them from left to right. "Sal, Ash, Larry, Todd, and his boyfriend, Neil."

Nate nods his head in greeting, lips pressed into a tight line-- his version of a smile at the moment. It's the best he can muster up, poor guy. He absolutely abhors meeting new people.

Larry cracks the code immediately, walking over to Nate and offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, dude," he starts with a cheeky smile.

Nate cracks a smile, grabbing onto Larry's hand and shaking it. "You too."

The rest of the males in the group shake his hand, but Ash simply waves from her spot across the living room. She doesn't move in.

Oh, so she's got it bad.

Still holding onto Nate's brownies, I move toward my kitchen to set them down on the cabinet. "Ash was nice enough to make lunch," I tell my friend, gesturing for him to follow. "We've all eaten already, you can have what's left."

Nate trails in behind me, watching everyone in my living room since the only thing that separates us is the island table. I put down the brownies then move around the table to sit down. Everyone else is busy watching Ash's stream from last night. She gave a quick tour of our new apartment, explaining why we won't be active for a few days and whatnot.

Plate in hand and still the sole occupant of my kitchen, Nate leans against the table opposite me and digs into his food. With just one bite of a french fry, his eyes widen a bit and he tilts his head as if he's just switched realities. "Shit's pretty good," he murmurs, focusing on his plate again to finish his bite.

I watch him with a fond smile, fisting my hands beneath my chin.

That is, until a tatted hand surfaces at my side and snatches a fry off the platter beside me. Nate and I both focus in like a cat to a laser, watching the hand move.

I follow that hand to see Sal leaning against the table, his hair hanging over his shoulders and prosthetic face aimed at Nate while his shoulder brushes mine. I search for his eyes to get a read on him-- figure out why he's here-- but with him facing away from me, the attempt is futile.

Worse though, he doesn't say a word. Just watches my friend. And Nate watches him, a contemplative expression beginning to take over his face.

Are they sizing each other up? My antisocial, shy Nate is actually looking Sal Fisher dead in the eyes without cowering?

I fight the urge to sink in on myself as I watch them and ponder what to say. I don't even know why they're looking at each other like this. It's getting tense. So tense that it suddenly feels difficult to breathe within the boys' general vicinity and I just have zero clue of what's going on.

Then, Sal snaps his head to me. I flinch when his vibrant eyes meet mine.

He looks into my eyes before his gaze begins traveling over my face. He glances here and there, taking in each curve and tilt of the mask shielding me from him. His hand lifts toward me, pushing a strand of hair away from my mouth and I blink at him. A torrent of abusive flutters infest my stomach and my body grows warm. I beg myself not to blush, wishing I could stomp down every single thought about Sal being sweet that suddenly floats into my head.

Everything begins falling apart.

"Oh," Nate mutters from in front of us. I turn to address his sound only to find his eyes a little wide and his mouth gaping a bit. "Oh," he emphasizes the word.

In my peripheral, I catch Sal switching his attention to Nate as well.

Nate immediately throws his hands up in surrender. "I think-- I think I get it." His voice is low, wavering. "We're just friends. It's not like that."

It's my turn to widen my eyes. Are they communicating telepathically or something? Is it just a weird, guy thing? Nate deciphering Sal's wordless claim is even freakier than him claiming me in general.

Sal ignores Nate's words at first, simply looks down at the plate full of fries and grabs another. "Good."

And he's gone.

I stare at the spot Sal populated just a moment ago, flabbergasted beyond belief. Just the slightest touch was a warning, a claim, and acknowledgment all in one. I can't quite process it, but thank God Nate did it all for me.

"What the fuck," he hisses lowly, leaning over the table to talk to me more privately. "You have something to tell me?"

I look at Nate again, noting his hyper finger-tapping and dilated pupils. He just got his drama for the week. No, the entire month.

Meanwhile, I'm short-circuiting. I'm still living in the moment when Sal's fingers brushed the corner of my lips and his gaze pierced through every layer of my skin. But the icy cold, overwhelming fear that suddenly slices through me like the dagger on Sal's neck brings me back to the present. Because Sal just told Nate that we're fucking without saying a single word. Now someone knows.

I can trust Nate with anything, I know that, but I'm dreading the conversation that comes with his knowledge of the situation.

Panicking, I leap up from my chair and lean toward Nate, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Not a word," I whisper to him, trying my best to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "We'll--" I pinch my lips together, shake my head. I can't believe this is happening to me. But I ground myself and do my best to remember that things are fine. Everything's okay. For now. "We'll talk about it later."

Nate nods vigorously beneath my hand, so I slowly pull it away-- watching and waiting for him to screw something up. He doesn't, but he starts conjuring up an evil plan. I can tell by the rabid smirk that begins to form on his lips. "You know I'm going to fuck with him, right?" he whispers to me, narrowing his eyes in some kind of psychotic glee.

Sighing, my head droops and I dread the full day ahead of us. "Please don't," I practically beg him.

"Even getting on your knees won't stop me from taking this opportunity," Nate cackles, grabbing his plate and moving around me to the living room. He even has the audacity to plop down beside Sal, giving him a cheeky grin before popping a fry into his mouth. Sal watches him incredulously before turning back to my TV.

The Faces, Nate, Neil, and myself spend the entire day clearing out and packing up my room. many of my belongings were already packed, seeing as I only moved to LA a year ago. We didn't have to go through the trouble of figuring out my drum kit since it's already in a bunch of boxes.

By the time nightfall came and went, we all grouped up in my living room. Surrounded by boxes and eating food that Larry so graciously ordered for us (Raising Canes, to be specific), Ash took the courtesy of trying to turn some music on to aid the relaxing atmosphere after a hard day's work.

My dear best friend is standing in front of my dad's speakers, scrolling through all of my music to pick a song while the rest of us sit in a circle. To my left, Nate, then Neil, Todd, Sal, Larry, Ash.

The balcony curtains are open to let in the beautiful city lights that manage to reflect into our apartment. Green's, blue's, and yellows engage in a passionate dance along the lines and grooves of my living room's ceiling. Such a hypnotizing light show for myself and my friends.

Ash finally settles on a song, grumbling when an ad plays as soon as she comes over to sit down. "I'm trying to play sad Bullet For My Valentine songs and Spotify won't let me!" she exclaims, plopping down on the floor beside me.

"Sorry," I snicker, dipping a fry into some sauce. "I refuse to give them any of my money."

"I'll pay for it," she scoffs, sending me a playful wink to say she's just joking. I simply roll my eyes and eat my fry, enjoying the lax atmosphere.

We fall into silence for a few minutes and I try not to look over to where Sal sits. He's been incredibly tame today-- so much so that I find myself worrying for him a bit.

He's sitting in front of my sofa, his head laid on the seat cushions. A few tendrils of his cerulean hair clash against the dark color of the fabric. And with his head bent the way it is, I can pick out just about every dip and curve along the length of his throat. A constellation to map out with my lips when the time comes.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Larry suddenly asks, probably put off by the silence or expressing his boredom.

I pull my attention away from Sal, especially when he picks his head up to look over at Larry.

I turn to Larry too, finding him fidgeting with his septum piercing and gazing at nothing. So his question was for anyone, then.

"I've got a story," Nate says from beside me, his tone a little too chipper for my liking.

I've mentioned before that Nate and I go way back. I mean, way back. So far back that he and I have witnessed the typical teenage depression and feeble attempts to be badass. The difference is that Nate and I went a step farther. We didn't just attempt to be badass-- we were badass. Not that I regret it, but it's something that I sickeningly assumed he would bring up at some point tonight to 'fuck' with Sal. And, dammit, Larry just gave him his opening.

In a moment of weakness, I grab onto Nate's wrist and throw him a look. Furrowed brows and wide eyes to portray that I really don't think this is a good idea.

Nate mimics my look though, leveling with me. This will be his one statement for the night and he's done. That's what his look means... but is it worth it?

I spare a glance at Sal and immediately regret it. His gaze is set on me and Nate's connected limbs, making me immediately let go of the man's wrist. Sal's already jealous enough as is-- I think that's more than enough.

But, my mind wanders back to the time Sal had a woman nearly sitting on top of him when we were in Las Vegas. All the times he was a jackass to me. You know, maybe he's better now, but that doesn't mean I can't screw with him a little too, right?

I wet my lips then turn back to Nate and give him a little nod.

I'll probably regret this later.

"Okay, so," Nate starts, scooting in closer with a winning grin on his face, hands in the air to accentuate his story-telling. I start counting my blessings. "Back in high school-- junior year I'd say-- y/n was dating this total asshole, right? I mean, this abusive, two-timing, unfaithful--"

I cut him off with an embarrassed cringe. "Get to the point, Nathaniel."

"Right, right." He rolls his eyes, waving me off. "My bad. So anyway, yea. He fucking sucked. He was also my best friend at the time." Nate tips his head toward everyone, earning lots of 'oohs' to add to his already hugely inflated ego. He continues with a dramatic bravado. "I caught him cheating again, so I let y/n know. Also cut off my friendship with him by that point."

Ash snorts. "As you should. Continue."

Nate's grin morphs into a bit of an evil smirk as he turns to Ash, talking directly to her now that she's shown more interest than everyone else even thought they're still listening intently.

"So y/n had finally had enough, thank God." He shoots me a pointed look that I only raise my eyebrows at. "And she broke up with him. She was mad. I mean, so mad that the next day she stomped up to me in the hallway, and-- get this-- with no hesitation whatsoever, said to me 'Let's fuck.'"

I hide my face in my hands at the same moment lemonade spews out of Larry's nose.

I hear a few muttered curses from Ash before Nate continues with the story.

"And I was game, duh, but I had to ask what the occasion was 'cuz the day before she was holding hands with my ex-best friend. So she explained everything to me, and..."

I peek through my eyes to see Nate who's smiling proudly at me, giving me an opportunity to continue the story. So with a breath, I lower my hands and try to ignore Sal's blazing gaze on me.

"What better way to get revenge than to fuck your ex's best friend?" I say tentatively, shrugging.

"Best part of that was he got a pic of me hitting it from the back." Nate leans away from the group with a content smile stretching across his face.

Ash giggles while Larry and Neil reach over to fist bump him. Sal looks a tad amused by the prospect too, but a completely different emotion overshadows his pretty eyes.

Todd, ever the scientist, has his own inquiries about the situation. "So, did you two ever date? I can't imagine neither of you were confused after something like that."

I shake my head. "We'd set up ground rules," I answer him. "Nate was a lousy lay," I can't help but chuckle when Nate lightly punches my shoulder. "But revenge made it erotic, I suppose." I continue, at least giving my friend a couple props.

"So no other feelings?" Ash asks, clarifying with her hands held out.

"Never," Nate declares. "No feelings other than the coolest fucking friendship in existence."

Aw, that's cute. I poke out my bottom lip and turn to him. "That's so sweet, Nate." He sends me a genuine smile that almost makes me feel bad about my next words. "But your mom's still cooler than you."

Nate groans, shoving a hand into my face. "The both of you probably beat me up together in your dreams. I don't know what the hell she see's in your evil ass."

I laugh heartily, catching Sal standing up in my peripheral. My attention leaves Nate who starts talking about the many times I was present for his chancla chucking mama's outbursts. Sal walks into my hallway-- most likely heading for the bathroom.

And you know what, I have things to confront him about right now. For one, I need to know how things are going to progress after Nate finding out about us and I can't necessarily wait to find out.

So I wait for a minute before getting up with an excuse about needing something in my room. Then, I wait in front of my bedroom door-- right across from the bathroom.

When Sal opens the door and shuts the light off, his head instantly snaps up to meet my neutral expression. He glances toward the sounds of our friends conversing from my living room then looks back to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss quietly, gesturing toward the hallway with a hand.

Sal takes leisurely steps toward me. "I should be asking you that," he challenges, voice low and words clipped. He's certainly not happy.

"I think I have a good reason to ask first," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "Nate knows about us, so what do we do?"

Sal doesn't answer right away, not until the toes of his shoes tap against mine. I suck in a breath and hold it when his prosthetic nose bumps my mask's. His nonchalant response is, "We fuck."

I swallow against the monsoon of butterflies that suddenly start flapping around my insides. We must stay focused, brothers.

"That's not--" I try to start, but cut myself off. I don't know what to say.

"That's not what?" Sal asks, stooping a bit lower and twisting the knob of my bedroom door. I stagger backward when the door gives.

My heart begins to race, pounding away at the fortress of ribs in my chest as Sal backs me into my room, softly shutting my door behind him. He follows me, cornering me against a wall. I can't even look at him, not when my face is flaming hot and my body is having these ridiculous reactions. I can't even confront him without freezing up now. His anger, his dominance, the upper hand he always has. Something about it is just so enthralling.

"Answer me," He says, voice a bit louder this time. "That's not what?"

"That's not a good excuse," I say quietly, taking a step to the side to move around him. But my attempt at an escape is met with a hand gently wrapping around my throat.

I swallow against his hold, imagining he can feel the action across each of his fingers. He watches me curiously as if that's exactly what's going through his head.

"It's not an excuse," he repeats my claim, tilting his head a bit to look me in the eye. "Was your story about fucking your friend an excuse, then?"

I open my mouth to say something, but shut it. I shouldn't have let Nate tell the story. It had the desired effect-- Sal is clearly feeling some kind of way about it, but I feel like it definitely wasn't necessary. What was the point?

"Are you going to fuck him again?" Sal asks, dropping every hint of emotion to portray how serious he is about the topic.

"No," I rush to say, tripping over the word. I catch my breath that won't stop running from me. "It was once. I was... I was being honest when I said he was a lousy lay. We were seventeen." I mentally apologize to Nate, knowing he wouldn't care either way because I doubt I was any good at sex either.

I haven't talked with Sal in a while. Not one-on-one. Not since right before we left Nockfell, which was nearly a week ago at this point. Everything else has been the two of us sneaking glances and scooting past with a quick 'Excuse me.' Was I so desperate to get his attention that I had to make him upset to do it? I could have just texted him on Discord or something.

Sal's quiet, letting me think about the consequences of my actions, I'm sure. But the longer he doesn't speak, the more I notice the aggression in his eyes lessens.

His thumb slowly begins to rub along my pulse point, feeling my erratic heart race the same way he did the first time he ever gripped my throat. The skin on his finger is rough, calloused. Guitar playing hands and all. The repercussions of art scratching along such a sensitive part of me.

He taps against a spot on the side of my neck, his gaze snapping to the area he's focused on. "I want to bite you right here," he murmurs quietly.

I guess he's been craving me too.

"So do it," I whisper, drunkenly taking in the way his eyes suddenly meet mine again. I don't need alcohol when Sal's around. He's proven to be more than enough intoxication.

"I can't," he replies lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. "If I do that, I'll fuck you."

I bite down on my bottom lip and think about my poor friends who are waiting for us to return. I also think about how much I've worried for Sal and how badly I've wanted to be near him all week. I can just tell them I dragged him over here to help me look for what I needed, right?

"So do it," I repeat myself, giving him the go ahead.

Sal closes his eyes for a few seconds, probably weighing his options like I just did. It seems that lust wins his internal battle though because within the next second, he leans toward me, buries his prosthetic face into the side of my neck.

I turn my head toward him, shutting my eyes when the scent of his hair envelops me whole. His azure hair, silky against my cheek, moves with him as he trails his nose lightly along the length of my throat.

"I've wanted to taste you all week," he admits quietly, the words a breathy whisper that I can hardly hear due to his prosthetic.

I try my hardest to suppress a shiver, but I can't help but clutch his hair in my hand, tugging at the long strands.

Sal hums, releasing my throat from his grip to hold me to him by the nape of my neck instead. His other hand ghosts up my body, softly trailing up my side and across my breasts all the way over to where he hides against me.

He pulls away from me just a bit, pulling his prosthetic over his head before returning to his place against my neck. I can't help but hold my breath as his scarred lips skim along my throat, leaving the smallest of kisses only when he feels the need.

I pinch my lips together and tug on his hair again when he drags on the slight touching for far too long. He chuckles quietly before finally obliging me, digging his crooked teeth into the spot he so desperately wanted to bite earlier.

I yelp, melting against him just as he pulls me closer to him with a hand on my waist. He slaps the other hand over my mouth to shut me up and I blink at the action, just a little miffed up until he licks the abused skin to soothe it.

He sucks the flesh on my neck into his mouth, leaving marks in a horrendously obvious spot that I know I'll regret later but... I don't regret it now. I can't even find it in me to care about having to hide the dark red marks he'll leave on me.

Sal continues mapping out his artwork along my skin, holding me hostage against his body. His leg finds its way between mine and he lifts his knee, creating friction against my clothed clit. I moan against his hand, making him press harder against my mouth. I grab at the hem of his shirt, squeezing the fabric in my fist as my other hand buries itself further into his hair.

I feel faint, not because of a lack of air, but because of a lack of him.

Sal moves his way up my neck kissing along my jaw before pausing in front of me, his marred nose brushing along mine. His lips are parted and swollen, the tips of his canines peeking past his top lip. And his gaze tethered to the hand that covers my mouth. I watch him, crumbling a bit as he pushes his knee into me again.

He smiles a bit, showing of a hint of that dimple that could bring me to my knees faster than anyone or anything else.

I gently bite down on his finger, causing him to slowly pull his hand away from me. I gasp for breath when his hand finally moves, running my tongue along my bottom lip. Sal's eyes track the movement and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

His knee drops and he pulls me just a fraction of a centimeter closer to him by the back of my neck.

Something about the way his gaze doesn't leave my lips makes me freeze up.

No. No.

"Twitterpated." The word leaves my lips before I can even realize I thought of it.

Sal's hands are off of me the exact moment I formed the first syllable and he takes a baby step away. I warily watch the way his eyes widen, like he's surprised himself. And he's still close, just a hairsbreadth or two away, but he has room to regain some clarity.

I'm about to apologize when a knock sounds on my door, followed by, "Ducks? Can I come in?"

I gasp, my knees going weak for a moment-- and this time it's not because of Sal.

Unceremoniously and without reason, I shove Sal away from me. He stumbles backward, catching himself with a hand on my bed and an offended grunt.

I reach a hand toward him to offer help that's far too late, my eyes wide as I cringe at the sheer audacity that this situation has slapped me with. But remembering that my dad is literally outside the door, I motion to Sal's prosthetic that's limply hanging from his left hand.

"Put it on!" I whisper harshly.

Sal realizes I'm saving him, saying his thanks through wide eye contact alone as he buckles the prosthetic to his face again.

"Um," I say, loud enough for my dad as I glance around my room. I spot an Amazon box and chuck it at Sal, managing to smack him in the prosthetic he just finished placing onto his face.

He throws his hands up and narrows his eyes at me while I mutter an embarrassed, "Fuck!" To my surprise, Sal chuckles.

I take a breath and sit down in front of my computer, ripping the drawer on my desk open to look like I was rifling in it. "Yea, dad," I call and I watch Sal's body go rigid in my peripheral. "You can come in."

I glance back at Sal who frantically unfolds the flaps on the boxes, practically burying his head into it. I can't help but laugh at the visual.

My dad cracks the door open, peeking in with a hand over his eyes so he doesn't see anything unsightly. "Sorry, just wanted to check in. I'm stopping by to grab my laptop and, apparently, Raising Canes. Then I'm heading to the airport." He gives me a reassuring, gentle smile.

I stand up, ditching my prop excuse and walking over to hug my dad. "No problem, we were just..." I look back at Sal who's finally poked his head out of the box. "Looking for Nate's screw driver," I continue, turning back to my dad.

My father, Bruce, bacon king himself, slackens his expression to tell me he's not buying it and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I rub a hand over my forehead before gesturing to Sal. "This is Sal," I tell my dad, "Sal, this is my dad."

"Good evening, sir. Nice to meet you," Sal says politely and it takes everything in me not to snap my neck on my way to look at him incredulously. Where the hell did these manners come from?

My dad smiles at Sal, waving to him. "Nice to meet you too, son."

Then he leans toward me, his grey eyes beyond amused as he says, quiet enough so Sal doesn't hear, "You have a hickey the size of Australia on the side of your neck, sweetheart."

Oh my God.

I loose a pained breath, slapping a hand over the side of my neck that Sal had attacked just moments ago.

"Other side, honey," Dad says and I think I'm seriously going to faint while I slap my other hand to the opposite side of my neck-- just in time for him to cackle and continue with, "Just fucking with you. You were right the first time."

I watch my dad with wide eyes, fumbling around my brain for words. All I manage to come up with is, "Is blood really thicker than water, Bruce?"

My dad chuckles lightheartedly, clapping a hand onto my shoulder as an apology and squeezing gently. "I'll leave you be, Ducks. I'm going grab my things-- I'll check back in a bit to say goodbye."

And then he shuts the door again. That bastard, I hate how much I love him.

I turn back to Sal with a troubled sigh, but I feel a bit revitalized when I see the mortified look in his eyes.

"Oh my God," Sal voices my thoughts and I laugh lightly, walking over to take the random Amazon box from him.

"Don't worry, he isn't crazy," I try to reassure Sal as I drop the box into the corner behind my desk. "Can't say the same for when he heard about me and Nate though."

"If you were seventeen, I can just about imagine," Sal murmurs more to himself than to me. "Sorry. About your neck." He says a bit louder this time, but remorse taints his tone. "About all of it."

His tone and words tug at my heartstrings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him, making my voice a little gentler than normal. "I was..." I pause, thinking of how to word my reaction properly. "Scared."

Sal snorts. "Me too. I didn't mean for it to look the way it did, I was just fascinated."

"When are you not?" I quip, closing the drawer to my desk.

"I thought we were being nicer to each other," Sal counters my statement with one that bites. I turn my head over my shoulder, noting the fire in his eyes. He's hungry for a fight.

"Since when?" I turn to him, leaning back against my desk with a minuscule, barely there smile on my lips. "I thought our arrangement was sex, not friends."

Sal tilts his head a bit. "We're not friends?"

I straighten, blinking at him as embarrassment flares within me again. A tremor of flutters makes my heart skip a beat at the same time and my mind goes completely blank.

"I--I mean--" I rush to say, swallowing past the stutter. "Yea, we're friends. I guess. If you want. I don't--"

Sal laughs. He closes his eyes as the lovely sound echoes around my room. Then he stands and saunters to my door, quick to make his exit.

He turns the knob, back to the door as he says his parting words. "You don't stand a single chance, y/n."

No, I really don't.

I sigh, grabbing concealer and foundation to dab onto the pretty mark on my neck, making sure it's covered as much as possible before I follow after Sal.

When I get through the hallway and resurface in my living room, I find my dad standing right outside my friend's little circle on the floor. He turns to me when I walk in, his dad radar making him look directly at my neck. When he finishes his visual examination, he throws me a thumbs up. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the shame coursing through me.

"Hey, Ducky-Duck," Ash chirps from the floor. "The guys and I are about to head out. Are you coming tonight?"

I smile at my dear friend. "I think I'm going to stay here tonight, hang out with Nate before I move out for good."

Ash nods her understanding, bright smile still lighting up her entire face. "Sounds good! We'll start bringing your things over tomorrow, right?"

I nod back to her, "Yep, I'll be up bright and early."

"Cool," she says, looking over to Nate who watches the exchange. "And you're always welcome at our apartment too. Just so you know." Her smile widens a bit.

Some part of me thinks they're going to end up hooking up somewhere in the future.

I watch the moment Sal realizes he has nothing to worry about. Nate smiles wickedly at Ash, all but confirming that we can expect that to be a thing at some point.

I hug my friends and my dad goodbye, watching as they file out of the apartment. When I return to my living room, Nate's sitting on my couch with a joint between his fingers.

I fight the laugh that bubbles up my throat, especially when he glances up at me with raised eyebrows, asking an unspoken question.

"Let's go to the balcony. Dad would kill me if I burned his couch," I say, grabbing Nate's arm and pulling him up to drag him outside.

We keep the doors open, sitting beneath the clear night sky while passing the joint between the both of us. Smoke materializes in the air through various, white puffs that dissipate as they climb higher and higher.

It's quiet for a bit-- well, as quiet as city nightlife can be. Muted laughter, music, and car honks echo off the wall of my apartment. Makes my nights a little less lonely.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Nate breaks our silence, taking a hit from the joint before moving it toward me.

I take it between my index and thumb and examine it. "We've been..." I pinch my lips together as I ponder the situation I've gotten myself in. I take my own hit before passing it back to Nate. I blow the smoke into the open air before continuing my explanation. "We've been fucking around for... jeez, like, two months now."

"Two months!?" Nate repeats, flabbergasted as he holds the butt of our shared joint between his index and middle fingers. "That long?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Yea, it's been a while. It started online, shockingly."

"Damn." Nate releases an audible breath, dark eyes glancing between my own. "Phone sex?" He quirks an eyebrow.

I grin. "Yea."

He fist pumps the air, giggling to himself. "So, does anyone else know? You seemed a little apprehensive about me saying anything."

I shake my head. "The rest of our friends would tell us to call it off if they found out, which is why we haven't said anything-- or, well, that's what I think they'd do. No one else knows. Just you-- and my fucking dad now." I rub a hand down my face at the reminder, whimpering at the sheer fact that my dad knows that something is going on between Sal and I.

Nate chokes on a cackle, leaning forward in his chair to launch into a coughing fit. I watch, pretending to be unimpressed even as a little smile works onto my face. I guess it's a little funny. What are the odds, right?

"Your dad? That shit's priceless," Nate sighs, catching his breath. "Why not try a relationship?"

"God, no," I shoot the words out immediately. I don't even want to think about it. "He and I have an arrangement. It's just sex. Neither of us have hinted at anything else. And besides, I don't want a relationship." My voice grows quieter toward the end.

Nate's expression is filled with pity. "Y/n, I know your last relationship wasn't great. Hell, we relived that bullshit tonight with the story." He laughs lightly at the reminder of everyone's shocked reactions to him and I hooking up in high school. "But don't let that stop you from pursuing anything new. Sally Face seems to be pretty into you," he continues gently.

I snort, looking away. "It's just basic attraction. I think he has his own shit to work through and I do too."

"You're throwing excuses at the wrong fucking person," Nate says knowingly. "I saw you stealing glances every two minutes."

I turn my head to him, glaring. I throw a quick, discreet punch at his arm and don't feel bad about it when he hisses in pain.

But I have to think about what he said too. Sal and I had a rather frantic run-in with each other tonight-- one that ended just as frantic as it began. I used our safe word for the first and probably the only time ever. Part of me feels guilty about it, but another part remembers that I was justified. Sal has always been understanding. He wasn't mad, backed off as soon as I let him know.

I let the thoughts marinate for a few moments before expressing them to Nate.

"I think he tried to kiss me tonight," I admit quietly, cracking my knuckles as I watch the stars light up the sky. My cheeks grow pink as I voice the idea, afraid that it'll somehow prove to be true.

I catch Nate's head turning toward me in my peripheral. "And how do you feel about that?"

I laugh humorlessly. "Not great considering I used our safe word."

Nate sits up a little straighter, still looking at me. "Oh, damn. That bad?"

I nod, tilting my head down with a mixture of shame and fear. I don't know how to feel about it because a small part of me wants it, but the rest of me is terrified.

Nate takes a deep breath. "If it's what you said, a sex arrangement, then you have nothing to worry about. It's surface level, right? So what's wrong with a kiss? I'm honestly pretty shocked you haven't kissed at this point. Most people do, especially for hookups."

He has a point.

"I know," I tell him honestly. "When things started, the prosthetic was still a barrier. He's... he's started taking it off around me though. So we've been able to do... more."

"If he's taking the prosthetic off, then he trusts you. So why don't you trust him?"

Nate's question hits me a little deeper than intended. I gulp over the words, organizing them in my head and thinking hard about it. I do trust Sal. He hasn't led me astray, he's been kinder lately, he's always done exactly as I asked. If I express my worries about kissing, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that he'd take it seriously and accommodate me as best as possible. I just have to work up the courage to let it happen.

The next issue though...

"He played it off though," I sigh, shifting in my seat to face Nate. "He apologized, said it wasn't what it seemed like and that he was just fascinated. But, the way he was looking at me... I don't think he was telling the truth."

I peek at Nate through my lashes, noting his concerned, serious expression. "I think that your fear of it scared him. Maybe he didn't want you to call things off over that, so he didn't tell you the complete truth."

I tilt my head, considering. I've done the same exact thing with Sal-- fibbed and left out information to ensure that we'd continue our arrangement. It makes sense, as sad as it is.

"Are you sure you don't have any feelings for him, y/n?" Nate asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

I open my mouth to spit out a very loud 'no,' but I stop and think about it. Damn Nathaniel for making me actually think about things tonight.

Everything that made me hate Sal in the beginning is practically nonexistent now. All the anger, the pain, the fights. Sure, we still bicker here and there, but it's for fun now. It's never serious, never deep. It's a lot like Nate and I's friendly banter. Besides that, Sal has been excellent in pretty much every box on the check list.

So, do I like him?

"I mean," I whisper. "I definitely have a crush." I admit, albeit with a bit of force considering it's the last thing I want to admit.

"Well, duh. He's got a crush on you, too. Why else would you guys be fucking?" Nate sighs dramatically, flicking his wrist with a prideful flair I haven't seen from him in a very long time. I think he had fun tonight. The thought makes me smile.

I shrug in response even though the thought of Sal crushing on me does make me feel a bit gooey on the inside.

Wait, gooey?

I groan, slapping my hands over my face and grumbling a muffled, "Fuck."

Nate guffaws, his chair creaking as he sits up quickly. He shoves my arm. "You do like him!"

I shove his arm back, swallowing back tears of surprise, fear, and regret. The audacity of my own emotions. "If I do like him," I start, leveling a glare at Nate which makes him sober up quickly. "It's not enough. Nowhere near. And besides, he's still a shitbag." I don't mean those words as much as I used to.

"That's true," Nate mumbles to himself. "You two have a little feud online, don't you?" His brows furrow and he looks down at the small space between us. "Oh, wait." He snaps his head up to me. "What about that other guy? What was his name..."

"Oh, shit," I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand. I've been so blinded by Sal that I forgot about him. "North."

"Yea! That's it," Nate points at me, eyebrows raising now. "People online are saying you're dating."

I shake my head. "No, I've only met him a handful of times. Spoken even less. I think he's definitely got the hots for me," I snicker at the idea. "It's nothing like what's going on with Sal and I though."

"Doesn't seem like that online," he murmurs, brows raised suggestively. I scoff in retaliation, rolling my eyes at him. But then he narrows his gaze in my direction, scrutinizing me from the minute distance between us.

I watch with bated breath, waiting for whatever's brewing in his head to leave his mouth.

"Why the hell are you still wearing your mask? In fact, why are you wearing a mask at all?"

The reminder washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I suck in a quick breath, hold it as humiliation alters my expression. Nate takes my reaction seriously, sobering up the friendly banter we had going on for a bit.

"You're... going to get a kick out of this one," I whisper, chewing on my lips. At this point, the situations I've stuck myself in are becoming ironically hilarious. Who does this to themselves?

Nate's face drops as he seems to catch the hint that I buried myself in something stupid again. "What did you do."

Statement, not a question.

I suck on my teeth, averting my gaze to avoid seeing the dumbfounded look of pity and awe that'll take over his handsome face the moment I spit it out.

"I met him once. Before I ever talked to him online. He was at the diner-- he hated me. I... I panicked. So beneath the mask, my face is a girl named Lexi to him. She has no relation to myself or Vi." I spit the words out quickly, frantically, so much so that I worry he may not have been able to catch all of it.

I scrunch my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as my body grows warm. Saying it out loud feels so much worse than thinking it.

Why am I doing this to him? Isn't this just... insanely cruel? To look Sal in the eyes and play with his head. To know he thinks I'm two different people and never say a word about it.

I mean, at least he doesn't think I'm three people anymore. And besides, he took my reveal as y/n well, right? So maybe the same would go for Lexi's reveal.

"You're such a dumb fuck." Nate shakes his head, flabbergasted. "What are you going to do about that?"

Tongue in cheek, I ask myself the same question. What do I do? Hope for the best, that he just somehow never finds out or grows curious? Wait until he gets tired of me?

I blink around the frustration and fear that starts to rip at my insides. "I really don't know."

Nate hums, pursing his lips. "Well," he says, voice much lower now. "Seems like you have a lot to think about, huh?"

"When I'm not high? Yea. Definitely." I laugh lightly as Nate sends me a reassuring, friendly smile before turning to watch the sky. I mimic him, gazing at the cloudless night.

Every once in a while, I find that the color of some of the stars matches Sal's eyes perfectly. I wonder if he'd think the same.

-------

A/N::::::::::::::: happy 100k everyone!! to ALL my readers, i want to start by expressing my immense gratitude. I just know that 14 year old ryver has tears streaming down her face knowing that we got here. never in my life did i think this would actually happen to me, but even more than that, i never expected to make such wonderful friends in all of you along the way. 100,000 views on a piece of work i created feels absolutely impossible, but i would not be here without all of you. through this process, you've all been so kind, helpful, loving, and wonderful. the right words to explain how much i love you do not exist. this feeling is incomparable to any other and not a single concept on this earth could possibly capture it's essence completely. THANK YOU! from the bottom of my little heart, thank you so much. i love you all with every fucking bit of me. we're all little fish floating down a lone river in appalachia-- we're all together in some universe or another and i wouldn't have it any other way <3

all week, i've been thinking hard about this chapter and how much i've wanted to give you guys a good one to celebrate! when it started i was like :/ don't like itttt. BUT i had a couple drinks (DO NOT RECOMMEND-- DON'T DRINK ALCOHOL FOOLS) and managed to pump out about 5,000 more words in one night! 5,000 that were completely unplanned, but ended up working out really well. i fell IN LOVE with nate and y/n's little interaction at the end :3

as of right now, it's 1:49am on wednesday, june 12th. we sit at 99.5k and i've been tweaking all day to come home and finish this chapter for you guys. i'm counting down the minutes, counting down the views left to go and listening to twenty one pilots. i feel like i'm living the life i've always wanted and it's all thanks to you. thank you for everything, my loves. i love you all with my entire heart and soul! have a wonderful morning, day, evening, night! until next time <3

p.s. you won't have to wait longer cuz GUESS WHO'S FINISHING A SAL LORE CHAPTER TO CELEBRATE TOO WOOOOOOOO!!!!

p.s.s. My little brother made a Sally Face mask (he's super duper talented) and let me borrow it for pics with my 100k cake. It's currently on Instagram (which is ryverbind)

[7grandmel]

Rip of the week: 25/07/2024

The End of HHGregg

Season 6 Featured on: Transmission Archive ~ The SiIvaGunner All-Star Nuclear Winter Festival Collection

Ripped by The Green Spy, CaptainComedy Visuals by Galacksy

(Note: MP3 embed is trimmed at the beginning as to allow it to be posted within Tumblr's file size limits)

I'm sure some of you were worried about where this week's post had gone. Worry not - I was simply biding my time for the day to arrive. Indeed, we have reached the 25th of July, a Thursday for some, and a national holiday for others. For today, we celebrate, grieve and toast to our dearly beloved, HHGregg. Today, it is Christmas in July, and time to at last cover The End of HHGregg.

For being one of my all-time favorite SiIvaGunner channel memes, I'm shocked at myself in how restrained I've been in covering rips using HHGregg's infamous red-tag-sale commercial. Sure, I spilled my soul out for the joke back with Nostalgic Blood of the Gregg ~ Old Source, and Everything Circus remains an all-time classic, yet there's still so much more to cover. In terms of jokes on the SiIvaGunner channel, I feel like HHGregg is one of the most developed ones, one with a legacy cherished by so many people on the team and off - and even a bit of a story to it that's been captured in full glory with today's rip.

Like sure, there's the obvious quirk that makes HHGregg stand out more than many other channel memes - the guy has an outright day-of-the-year holiday dedicated to him. As the infamous Christmas in July ad was what propelled HHGregg's moderately-annoying mascot into becoming a YTPMV star, July 25th on SiIvaGunner has become a sort of understated annual event for fans like myself, much in the same way that April 30th was with It's Gonna Be Me and guess what​?​?​?​?​?​?​?​?. Yet, of course, there's an underlying sort of sadness to HHGregg rips in particular due to the brand its attached to: the company that the ad's many YTPMVs are riffing on filed for bankrupcy in 2017, midway through Season 2 of SiIvaGunner. The store still exists now, bought by a parental company and turned all-digital, but the franchise as it was once known is all gone, with it's ill-fated mascot going down with it.

Of course, we don't really need to feel much remorse for the fall of an electronics boutique - but given the SiIvaGunner channel's way of personifying and giving life to in-jokes and gags the world over, it informs rips using HHGregg in a pretty different way. HHGregg rips on the channel had their biggest stride during the very same year that the chain went bankrupt, as if to suggest that the mascot was desperate to prove his own worth on the one place that still remembered him fondly. In the years since, we got sporadic shots of the guy here and there - and in my eyes, it at one point felt as if it all culminated with the rip エイチエイチグレッグ ホワイトハウスでチョー大変!, a fully-featured edit of Neon Genesis Evangelion's iconic A Cruel Angel's Thesis opening now starring HHGregg himself.

Yet, of course, as I've harped on about with rips like Shiny Smily TALE, Violet Snow Memories and Our Sweet Parsley, one of the most rewarding parts of following the SiIvaGunner channel lies in how the team never seems to forget about any of its zillions of uploads. No matter how much time passes, rippers love one another, the ideas they come up with, and the potential to build further on one another's ideas - it is a core part of YTP and YTPMV culture that's remained strong on SiIvaGunner since its very inception. The A Cruel Angel's Thesis rip above, by excellent rippers Ashley and GramBam36 of The Legend of Cage: Staff Roll fame, was a joyous celebration - a year later, as Season 6's sombre mood results in the Nuclear Winter Festival rolling around, a trio of rippers sees the perfect opportunity to finally put HHGregg to some form of rest. The meme's far from dead today, of course (check the channel right now) - yet, at last, with The End of HHGregg, it felt as if the funny paper roll man was finally ready to accept his fate.

The End of HHGregg, silly of a concept as it may be, executes that concept to a degree I don't think anyone was expecting. Second only to A Cruel Angel's Thesis, Komm, süsser Tod is an iconic piece that serves as the ending theme to the original NGE anime, one tied to feelings of bittersweet-ness, finality - at once able to reference one of the most classic HHGregg rips on SiIva, acknowledging HHGregg's bankruptcy, whilst tying itself directly to the ongoing Nuclear Winter Festival of Season 6. And that's not even getting into the rip itself!

The YTPMV work done here to sentence-mix and pitch-shift HH's various vocals to fit the melody of Komm, süsser Tod is, for lack of a better way to put it, downright remarkable. Despite a seemingly limited pool of voice lines to work with and a rigid framework of a melody, the guy only ever "sings" in complete sentences, with pitch shifting that manages to sound shockingly natural, still as gratingly chipper as HH tends to sound but still seeped in that vibe of bittersweet-ness that I discussed before. It goes through every beat and phase of Komm, süsser Tod without ever having the vocal samples sound forced, including the deeply inspired use of a layered, choir-like HH performance on several segments. Althewhile never forgetting the classic HH lines, the red-tag sales, the HD-TV and Whirlpool appliances, and of course, the Christmas in July. The cherry on top of it all is the intro to the song, before the main melody truly kicks in, as this little interlude sneakily includes a guitar now playing Deck the Halls just as featured in the most infamous Christmas in July ad - a sombre reminder of where it all began.

That aforementioned vibe is, of course, emphasized greatly by Galacksy's incredible illustration for the rip, the literal End of Evangelion depicted as being the fall of HHGregg as a whole, in absolutely spectacular fashion. Like with i love(d) you and so so many other rips, it's so often these seemingly small touches that end up elevating rips to all-time classics for me, and it's a trait that The End of HHGregg's audio also eventually contributes to, in a way I truly don't wish to spoil for you all. Nevertheless, the key takeaway here is one that's evident right upon first listen: This is a DAMN impressive YTPMV effort that at once celebrates and mourns one of the YTPMV world's most cherished sources, yet pulling it off as if it were effortless. In celebration of YTPMV, of SiIvaGunner, of one of the channel's most immaculate of somewhat-too-hidden gems from Season 5, and of the very state of memes coming to an end - The End of HHGregg is everything one could ask for.

Godspeed, you rolled-up brochure cretin. And happy Christmas in July to you.

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Prologue

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Herimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: After running for so long, it was time to come home

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers and angst. Mentions of death, mental health issues, and toxic relationships. It’s not graphic or detailed in this one but I just want to warn you now that this series will deal with extremely heavy topics as it goes on (similar to the show).

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Hey bestiesssssssssss!!! This is my first ever series and actually first ever written work that I'm posting lol and I'm so excited for it!!! I'm starting off with a series because i had this really good and angsty idea while reading ANOTHER fantastic piece of work and was like “fine…….. I'll do it myself” so i'm here now writing it lmao anyways i'm starting off posting my fanfics with Mikey and Carmy because i've been a little too focused on The Bear lately n love them so much. Chapter one of this series should be coming up this time next week so dw abt waiting so long for an update!! Anyways i hope you all enjoyyyy <3

MASTERLIST

The cool Chicago night air nips at you as it blows by, rolling along the exposed skin of your arms. It was 3 in the morning and the street where The Original Beef of Chicagoland stood was empty and silent.

The building stood before you, quiet and lifeless. It was odd seeing it so silent and it almost seemed… peaceful. But one glance at the rusting sign that seemed to be barely hanging onto the building made the façade of tranquility fall.

The knot in your stomach grew as your eyes traced over the rusted sign and then onto the walls that showed cracks and age. The sidewalk wasn’t any better with uneven cement and haphazard patching. Just then, a piece of trash rolled by the curb, coming from the alley right next to The Beef. 

It was just like how you remembered it. 

The wear and tear was what originally made you appreciate it. It showed use and love, the same way that laugh lines around a person’s mouth showed you that they lived a life full of smiles and laughter. The walls were in use as hundreds filed in and out of the building for their favorites, every week. The floor was worn away underneath the soles of families, drunk friends, older couples, working folk, and more. The ungentrified building made the whole thing feel nostalgic, despite not being a building you were around as a child. It had felt… familiar in a both comforting and melancholic way. 

But now, seeing the building, especially with its marks of age, made your blood run like ice through your veins. It made you shiver, despite it being September in Chicago. 

What once was a warm and inviting place felt cold and even scary. 

It had been months since you spoke to the Berzattos. Actually, it had been months since you were in Chicago at all. About 8 months, that is. You left in February after… everything and never looked back. The east felt too familiar at that point, so you traveled west.

You chased the highs and avoided the lows, moving from one place to another until you settled in a quiet town where you felt loved. But that love didn’t come without its challenges and when it got hard, you did what you knew best and that was leaving. 

So you left with no clue as to where you were going, too proud but mainly too afraid to reach out to the family you had in Chicago. You drove with a car full of junk you couldn't even stand looking at anymore for all the memories of the past couple of months attached to them made your stomach churn. With no place to go, you found yourself, 5 days after leaving and living in your car, sitting on the hood of your 2002 Chevy Impala, stopped and watched the sunset of the west for the last time at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere with your head hurting and eyes puffy. It was then when your phone buzzed. 

The cracked screen blinked brightly as you glanced over at it.

‘Please come home, we miss you - Nat’

Your mouth dried as you read the message. Your heart pounded in your ears as your eyes raced over the words over and over and over.

‘Please come home, we miss you’

‘Please come home, we miss you’

‘Please come home, we miss you’

‘Please come home, we miss you’

‘Please come home, we miss you’

‘Please come home, we miss-

Another message popped up then, interrupting your reading and making you jump. 

‘I promise it’s okay’

Your hands trembled. How Sugar got your number after you changed it twice to avoid your ex from the west was a mystery but it almost felt like divine intervention as you read it under the glow of the cotton candy clouds in the sky. 

‘Come home’

So you made the decision to go back. 

To go home. 

But this decision didn’t mean that you were leaving right away; for two months you practically lived in motel rooms and in your car, pacing back and forth for hours in parking lots, empty hallways, and tiny motel rooms at the thought of facing everyone again. Would they be upset? Angry? Sad? Would they hate you? Welcome you with open arms? Especially after abandoning them the way you did? 

Some nights were spent breathing deeply and slowly, desperately trying to get your heart to beat at a reasonable pace and other nights were spent with tears streaming down your cheeks. You almost even decided to just not come home at all; it felt like moving out of the country and assuming a new identity would be easier to deal with than going home.

But you got yourself together and after pawning everything you didn’t mind parting with for cash, you drove with a lighter trunk and a lighter heart across the country and eastward toward Illinois. 

Before you knew it, the giant ‘WELCOME TO ILLINOIS, THE LAND OF LINCOLN’ sign had appeared in your vision. It greeted you like an old friend, making your eyes sting and your chest tighten as your car zoomed by it. 

Two hours away from Chicago, your stomach would not stop growling so you decided to stop and grab a bite to eat. After settling your car at a nearby park next to an empty bench, you got off and focused a bit too much on grabbing your belongings to notice what your surroundings looked like. 

It wasn’t until you had sat down and ripped the bag of food open, when the smell of a salami and mozzarella sub wafted in the air, perking you up and prompting you to smile softly, that you glanced up. Over the dark green shrubs and still water of Peoria Lake were cotton candy clouds, nearly identical to the ones that you had seen while sitting on the hood of your car, terrified and hoping for a sign, any sign, that what you were doing was the right thing. 

Five minutes later, your car was back on the highway and speeding towards Chicago.

You stayed over at your parents’ house that night. They were overjoyed to see their child. Your mother cried, holding onto you as your father rubbed your back, comfortingly. Part of you wanted to, so badly, melt into their arms, but another part of you reminded you of the last time you were here. Despite the furniture being different and the decorations being rearranged, your body twitched as it remembered the exact emotions and position you were in when you got the news. 

The news that your boyfriend, Michael Berzatto, was found dead.

You couldn’t sleep that night, nor the next, or even the one after that. You got a combined total of about 15 hours of sleep in the past 72 hours, making you look and feel exhausted. But your mind was the only thing that wasn’t exhausted from replaying the memory over and over and over. 

About 5 days after you arrived, you got another message from Sugar. This time, a pit formed in your stomach as you read it.

‘Hey, it’s me again! Can you swing by The Beef tomorrow? I'm working there now and would love to see you. I’m sorry this is on such short notice but I've been crazy busy and I heard you were in town. I really want to see you and if you can’t do tomorrow, let me know so we can plan another day.

We really do miss you.’

You rock your jaw and put your phone down on the edge of the twin mattress you sat on, in your childhood bedroom. Right then, your mom gently knocks on your bedroom door before pushing it open.

“Have you talked to Natalie at all yet?” she said softly, clasping her hands together and leaning against the door frame.

You huffed and smiled weakly, of course your mom would mention something to her, that’s how she knew you were here. While your mom respected you doing things on your own time, she also knew that you needed a little push to make that connection. 

“Uhm… yea she just texted me. I uh, i might see her tomorrow at The Beef,” you murmured with a shaky breath. 

Thank god Sugar ended up being the one to text you instead of you texting her. 

Your mom smiled sweetly, “I think you should go, sweetheart. I know it seems scary but… I think it’s time you saw them…” 

Nodding, you turn and crawl up to the pillows of your bed. With a sigh, you lay down and close your eyes, exhausted. 

From your door frame, your mom quietly watched you and sighs softly. She slowly grabs your door and closes it behind her as she leaves. The hallway light goes off, leaving you and your thoughts alone in the pitch black dark.  

And here you were, a couple hours after you read her message, standing across The Beef on a cool Chicago night with the air nipping at your exposed skin as it blows by. You left in such a rush that you forgot to bring a hoodie and didn’t even bother to change from your thin pajama pants and loose old t-shirt. All you did was throw on your shoes and climb out your window, car keys clutched in your sweaty palm, like you used to do in high school to sneak off with Mikey. 

But those days seemed so far away now the same way that The Beef seemed so far away. It felt as if the trek across the street actually spanned thousands of miles and not a minute walk. 

So you sighed and turned around, walking down the sidewalk and back to your car. Who knew what time it was anymore, but you knew that you really needed to get rest tonight… you had a big day tomorrow. 

[dual-cetacean]

"Arthur Pendragon, the newly crowned King of Britton, is weary of the new life he leads. The battle that solidified his rule drained him of his vigour, and he aches to be carefree once more as he was as a mere squire. He treks into the Dark Woods to unwind from a stressful exchange of power. Unaware that this moonlit night would forever change his life."

Heyo! Here I am with the poll winner from last week (and a few more days)! It's Sonadow hours (Arthlot? I don't know their ship name, but it's King Arthur/Lancelot)

You can find the backstory for this fic under "Keep reading," as I go off on a tangent about its historyfic.

Please enjoy!

This fic is older than all of my other sonic fics. I am not kidding; I've had this draft lying around in my backlog for so long that I have screenshots of its layout and how I was supposed to present this on AO3. The date is September 2023, but my document files say December 2022. Since I usually type fics together in one document before deciding it can have its own document, so it is even older than that. This was supposed to be up ages ago, but I never found the courage and got swept away by the excitement of Sonic Prime. Even though I call myself a recent Sonic fan, that's not true. I grew up with Sonic X and read Sonic fan fiction on Fanfiction.net. (Oh, where has the time gone.)

Bit of a trigger warning for incest and statutory rape. As in mentioned, nothing is talked about graphically.

Now, while I am very particular about using canon as a guideline and knowing the source material like the back of my hand, this is one of my works where I will not do that. A lot of fucked up shit happens in the original compiled story of L' Morte d'Arthur (The Death of King Arthur). I will explain further in the ending notes of the fic, but for one, Arthur is aged up to 19 years old. As in the original legends, he is just called young, which is very vague. He is rewarded sex by a tavern woman for winning the battle, but it is implied she is much older than him. His age is unknown, but an opposing king calls him a beardless boy playing at being a king, and while there are plenty of men who grow a beard well into their adulthood or never, the implication of Arthur's youth and inexperience with life makes me deeply uneasy. So obviously, none of that shit is in here. Canon or not, fanfiction is here to have fun, and I won't write what makes my skin crawl.

I put this on the poll, not knowing if people would want to read this. But seeing as the poll was held on Tumblr, I should not have been surprised that it won by a landslide. I had forgotten how popular this niche ship is within the Sonadow community. And hey, I'm not complaining! I'm all too happy to share this. I read Sonadow since I was a teen, and Lansoni was a guilty pleasure of mine. I am all too happy to add to the collection! Although it is not really Lansoni as it is Sonic as King Arthur, and not actually Sonic being isikai-ed.

I am probably going to go on a SATBK binge after this. It is so weirdly nostalgic for me.

[floralpikmin99]

SPEAKING OF MONSTERS

Thinking about the fun sound effects the monsters have in Wind Waker awakens an old rant in me.

I love the Pikmin series, I think my name shows that. As a kid I was never really good at 1, but I would play Pikmin 2 so much. Honestly Pikmin 2 specifically is still one of my favorite games of all time. Naturally the creatures, music, and sound effects are all very nostalgic to me.

So when Pikmin 4 came out and we had a lot of returning creatures, of course I was excited. 3 had left out a lot, but it introduced new ones, so no big deal. But something is missing from so many creatures from both 3 and 4.

The sounds!

The creatures themselves are the best they’ve ever looked (though I could rant about a few changes, another day). Yet hardly any of them retain the very unique and iconic sounds they had in 2.

Remember how in 1&2 if you happened to squish a dwarf bulborb with a Pikmin it would scream? Bulborbs would bark, growl, snore. They had different sounds for different things that were all very different from one another. Then comes along 3&4 and they all just sound muted. They only have quiet cutesy growls. They lost their bark.

Another example is the emperor and empress bulblax. When the emperor was charging a lick attack, you got to hear a loud, deep growl. The lick itself even had a handful of guttural sounds to it. In 4, it’s all just quiet smacking. As for the empress, she also lost her bark. But remember in 2, the fight where she would birth a bunch of larva? You could hear that happening across the map, letting you know something is coming. In 4, they took that away.

I don’t have the means to compare clips or audio files, but compare the Man-at-Legs fights in 2 and 4. The MaL had loud metallic footsteps. It growled. It’s gunfire was loud! In 4 it also lost its voice. It’s mechanical sounds are also more muted. When I fought it for the first time in 4 that’s when all this really started to get to me. I had freshly played 1-3 before starting 4, so the differences were extremely noticeable to me. The boss didn’t have the same punch it did before, and I think it really took away from my overall experience.

But the worst contender is the Water Wraith. Easily one of the most iconic bosses of 2 for very good reason. You hear the whistling of its rollers falling and then it’s roar, you know you’re in trouble and you gotta wrap up what you’re doing! I was thrilled when I saw 4s own version of the submerged castle. I saw those rollers and I lost my mind. The man was back!

And then it fell. I think you know what I’m going to say. The icon whistle: hushed. The iconic roar: drowned and garbled.

All intimidation had been stripped away. You couldn’t hear it growling from across the map anymore. The drop was so quiet. You couldn’t feel it’s presence like you could in 2. It’s all just so quiet!!

I could go in this loop for everything, but I just don’t get why so many iconic sounds where removed or just lessened. 4 in general is jusg so lacking in the sound department, and even though I found the game fun I can’t come close to calling it my favorite. It just lacks the soul I wanted to see from 2.

Anyways rant over. Maybe someday I’ll make this more coherent and come back with proper comparisons but we’ll see lol.

My ranking of the games worst to best is

1-4-3-2

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[starwarsmum]

Day 8 of Dickinette February (because apparently I didn't post it here?? Damn I was scattered last Saturday 😭😬)

@maribat-calendar-events

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62690860/chapters/161019502

“I'm sorry Dupain-Cheng,” Gordon said, looking as regretful as he sounded. “It's not specific enough. The abduction cases are hardly your only cases, and you've assisted on others as well.”

“But- okay,” Marinette said with a sigh, grabbing her recorder and the notes she'd brought with her. She wasn't going to try and argue the point and seem like she wasn't reasonable. She had learned early on in her tenure in Paris that trying to push her point would be met with disapproval and punishment.

She settled back at her desk and typed up her notes from the meeting. That was another thing she learned fast - keep notes. And make sure they were date and time stamped by sending the meeting summary to her boss and asking for their agreement. 

As soon as she was done, she buckled down to work on her open cases. She expected to be out on the streets later that day and she wanted to be free enough to check out any leads on missing kids.

But while she was working, one of her colleagues came to ask for her help with something else. So she resigned herself to try working on the case in her own time.

_ _ _

Dick had finally caught a break. He wasn't punished for getting out of the warehouse and, in fact, he was being asked to join the next shipment unload. And then his ‘superior’, Jessie, dropped information he'd been waiting for.

“We got a guy on the inside, he'll have the shipment out in no time,” the lady said smugly. “So if you ever get raided, just get out and we'll deal with it later. Hopefully that won't happen again.”

“Yeah, I think I pulled a muscle getting outta there,” Dick said with a half smile. She laughed far too loudly for such a weak joke and touched his arm.

“You're funny, Rick,” she said breathily, trying to look at him flirtily. It made him feel sleazy, and he decided acting oblivious about any advances was his only way out of it. He wanted to go home but he wasn't ready to cross that line when he knew Marinette was waiting for him. It would have been different if he'd come on assignment before they started dating.

“Anyway, I'm gonna get a headstart on the next job, see you later, yeah?”

He didn't have to look at her to know she was put out by his dismissal.

_ _ _

It wasn't until a week or so later that he was able to join patrol again, and he was missing the normal interactions he got with his brothers. Jessie had kept up a high level of flirting and touching. There was only so long he was going to be able to play dumb before she would decide he was rejecting her and then he was pretty sure he was going to be out. But it wasn't his first time playing dumb so he thought he could move on before it got risky.

“Hey Dickhead,” Jason said easily, throwing a rock at him in greeting. Dick flipped him off in good humour, nimbly dodging and landing next to Tim. Cass raised a hand in a wave before Bruce told them he had to visit Jim for a meeting.

Naturally, they all followed him, not wanting to be left out. They got to the precinct roof and filed in through the fire escape door. There was silence as they headed for Jim's office, careful not to alert any of the night team that they were there.

“Wow, got the whole gang out tonight, huh,” Jim said after he spotted them, mouth twitching into a smile behind his moustache. “Thanks for coming, Batman.”

“Not a problem,” Bruce said roughly, waiting for whatever the police needed help with. Being at the precinct, even just on top of it, was making Dick nostalgic (and a little homesick). 

“It might be nothing, but one of my detectives has been getting crank phonecalls and she's getting weirded out. She's been working a case on missing kids that she's pretty sure is bigger than just individual kids vanishing into the abyss. I want to give her more support with it but she hasn't found a solid link between them yet.”

Dick was trying not to outwardly panic but it was getting difficult. The day he had been asked to go undercover, when his life went on hold, Marinette had been working missing persons. He remembered that she had had a gut feeling that the cases were connected but couldn't find how. 

“Doesn't everyone in the office get crank phone calls every now and again?” Tim said with a frown, opening his watch, likely to connect to a phone company. 

“It wasn't on her work phone, it was her personal one. And she lives on her own, doesn't seem to have many friends outside of the office - or in it to be perfectly frank with you. She was dating one of the guys but…it didn't work out. So I'm just asking if you don't mind keeping an eye out for her, just in case.”

Dick wasn't able to concentrate any further than that, his good mood at working his way up completely evaporating in the face of Marinette potentially being in danger. He was suddenly desperate to get to her apartment and make sure she was under lock and key until whoever was threatening her was dealt with. Maybe by Jason.

When everyone started to head out, he couldn't help setting off in a straight line towards her apartment. What if she was hurt? Or scared? What if she needed him? She was strong, no doubt in his mind about that, but there was only so much a civilian cop could prepare for the insanity of Gotham's underbelly.

“Wing, don't be fucking stupid,” Jason said gruffly, grabbing onto him. Dick almost flipped him over his shoulder but managed to restrain himself. Just.

“Little Wing, let go of me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. When Jason merely stood there, hand tight around his bicep he turned to try and punch him. Unfortunately Damian got in the way and he had to stop. “Robin, this isn't your concern.”

“It is my concern because this is all of our concern,” Damian said. “Ba- Nightwing, I understand why you are upset. But we cannot rush into this without a plan of action. What if she were to recognise you?”

“I don't. Care. If she went to Gordon about this, she's already worried. I just have to see that she's okay,” he said. Part of him wanted to address Damian's almost slip of calling him Batman again after nearly a year, but he held his tongue. 

“I understand, but you have to trust that we can help. And that she is capable of keeping herself safe - you did not choose her because she needed protecting, did you?”

“One of us will swing by, check in with her, okay?” Jason said, tone more gentle than Dick could remember it being in years. It was closer to Jason as Robin than it was to Red Hood. Nodding jerkily, Dick finally untensed, shoulders dropping.

“Just- just see if she needs any help,” he muttered, going to run a hand through his hair before remembering the wig. Even though it was securely fastened, he didn't want to risk pulling it off by accident.

Jason and Damian nodded and then waited until Dick was heading back in the direction of his current home.

[1141520851813892291920]

ENT0010

RE: Jonathan Sims, Electronic Reference Specialist (Margaret Usher Library of Discreet & Internal Research).

I am starting to realize that it was...perhaps too hasty of a decision to dismiss Jon's life before as irrelevant. As unreal as it may be - as I continue to believe that it must be - it does hold more clues to a puzzle I still can't quite get the shape of yet. He may have more useful things than computer passwords and library cards to share with me.

Much of his life was so similar to mine, I had assumed it didn't warrant careful review. We grew up in the same area, had the same distant grandmother, the same thirst for books and fascination with the darker side of the paranormal. We both got an A level in drama despite seeing no use for it, and even though he went to Cambridge instead of Oxford, our University experiences were more or less the same. He faired a bit better in the relationship department...

But instead of The Magnus Institute, this Jon caught the attention of the Usher Foundation. He was hired in a seemingly innocuous, if spontaneous, candidate selection process for a consulting research position in an academic library. The interviews were all conducted remotely, his references from the British Museum and his professors were apparently glowing, and his appointment - though perhaps too generously compensated - was not in any way...suspicious.

So far, I've regulated Jon's professional life to a temporarily necessary inconvenience, something that was worth putting up with while I oriented myself and refocused on my own investigations in this New Place [research presently ongoing. I will make a separate post with current theories]. His job was nothing too taxing - largely sitting at his computer and completing various reference requests for an academic research library. It reminded me of the Institute, in a way, in the early days. I do still quite enjoy research, and the library's resources are vast. None of the ongoing work has set off any alarms, nothing too odd - quite a few local history and genealogy requests, tracking immigration and family trees, some specialized scientific questions that were more of a challenge but not impossible, copies of old academic journals and microfiche of old newspapers. A few interesting rabbit holes that sated me enough that I bothered to finish them.

Looking back at the work log...there is more specialized research on the subjects of a more...hah- "spooky" nature: apparitions, manifestations, ESP, astral projection, irregularities in reality, etcetera. It was these topics in particular that Jon spent most of his time on. Most notably, however, these requests only come from three primary accounts: GROBI1 CUSHE1 PSHELL3 [NOTE: While this account was highly active in the beginning, requests stop entirely after 2021.

Jon was under the impression that all three of these individuals were his direct superiors in his department, though it was purely speculation as he had never, in fact, met any of his colleagues in person. His office is located in the university's library depository building, and the only other employees he ever has contact with are student workers or otherwise the depository's building supervisor.

The only one he had actually spoken to outside of emails at all with GROBI1, who sat in on his initial interview and, from what he understood, was the one who hired him. GROBI1...Gertrude Robinson, chief researcher and head of the Midwest Regional Usher Foundation office.

I am...ashamed at myself for not having realized this, or acknowledged this sooner. I have been so reluctant to accept any of Jon's memories for fear of losing my own, a fear I still hold, but how much did he...Know? I searched his apartment again, following the fake memories to hidden caches of what appears to be stolen case files...He was looking into something. I'm not sure what, other than he did NOT trust his employer...some things never change, I suppose.

I feel oddly...nostalgic with this discovery. Once again, I am sitting on the unfinished work of a paranoid archivist working secretly against the powers the be while trying to find my place in everything...or perhaps, this is just proof that things are cyclical. Will the same events unfold, just with different colors and mediums? Will I find myself walking through the remains of a destroyed world, blood drying on my paper hands?

It is a familiar fear that I feel, too, just as nostalgic as anything else. More than that fear though, I feel the rising and demanding hunger. It drives me as Beholding did, pushing driving seeking hunting each precious piece of knowledge into the thorned and venomous thickets of secrets and Things that Should Not Be. I, too, Should Not Be. I am Wrong, here. My presence in this place is a slowly spreading cancer and I have already infected so many around me. I cannot stop. I don't want to...stop.

I will not stop, until I Know what This Is.

[valiant-if]

It's been a while since I talked about the games I'm playing, so I'm gonna take a sec here...

I got Dynasty Warriors: Origins a while back. I've been playing DW games since 3. 8 is my favorite, and that still hasn't changed, but I'm actually enjoying Origins a lot so far. It's very different pacing from the standard DW experience, but I think in a way that speaks well to the novel the games are based off of (which I've been trying to read slowly for many years, but it's dense as fuck). I think that not all DW fans are going to like it, but that's okay. I like that they tried something a little different.

I played Avowed when that came out. As a long-time Pillars of Eternity fan, I have a few minor complaints about it, but mostly I thoroughly enjoyed it. I ended up really liking all of the companions, and I think the game allows a decent range of roleplay options (though nothing near as extensive as Pillars 1 & 2).

It did really make me want to go back and replay Pillars though, so I'm slowly working my way through a Pillars of Eternity playthrough on the side of other things right now. Since I've played it before and that game involves a lot of reading, I'm not in a rush to go through it.

But I also have a library of games I've amassed over the years, about half of which I have never played, so I'm trying to work my way through unplayed games that I already own.

I finished Dark Deity two days ago, which is like a Fire Emblem style game for those who don't know. It was pretty decent. I liked the art, character classes, and combat animations a lot. There were other things that definitely could have used more work. I hope they learned a lot and their Dark Deity 2 release goes well!

Now I'm working on AI: The Somnium Files. It's very interesting so far. I'm interested in the unreliable narrator aspect of it the most right now. I can't play too much of it though because honestly all of the characters are unsettling as fuck. I'm pretty sure it's very intentional, but yeah I have to be in the mood for that one.

And I'm still a slave to my gachas (though thankfully I'm too poor right now to be tempted into spending money on any of them). I've been enjoying the newest Integrated Strategies in Arknights—the roguelike mode is actually what brought me to that game in the first place. I've also gone back to Genshin after a long hiatus there. They finally did a Wriothesley rerun, and thankfully my f2p ass got him. (I wish I had enough to pull for Furina too, but I don't.) And I've continued playing Honkai pretty steadily, but I'm waiting for some of the upcoming banners, like Mydei, Anaxa, and Castorice. I've also still been playing Limbus Company, but not as often lately. I'm in Canto VI right now. That game is such a trial for me when it comes to pulling IDs, because I should be trying to get good IDs for Faust and Sinclair, but I just love Yisang and Hong Lu so fucking much that I keep pulling for their IDs even when I already have some of their best ones lol

Also, Dark Deity made me nostalgic for Fire Emblem, so I've decided to replay Three Houses. I have a playthrough of Engage, which I've never played all the way through, in progress, but I'm just not as interested in the cast of that one.

So gaming has been enjoyable. There are a lot of new releases coming up soon that I'm interested in, but I'm definitely gonna have to pick and choose for a while. (I was doing well financially prior to 2020 and had money saved up for a while that meant I could buy games whenever I wanted them, but those days are over for now.)

Oh, not video games, but I'm also going to be starting a new dnd campaign this weekend as a player. I'm very fucking excited about it mostly because, of all the games i play, this is my favorite group of people and my favorite dm. I'm also addicted to playing a lot of different types of characters (like, seriously, I'm the kind of person who gets excited when my character dies) so it'll be really fun getting into a new one.

So that's about what I'm up to when I have free time. Any games y'all have played and liked or are looking forward to?

[benzo-ashv]

Finding My Way Forward

I don’t even know where to start. Life has been throwing punches lately, and I’m just trying to stay on my feet. If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be packing up my life, leaving LA, and starting over somewhere else, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here I am, completely uprooted, heartbroken, and trying to figure out what’s next.

The fires took everything—our home, our sense of stability, the place where Brady and Aspen felt safe. I keep telling myself it’s just a house, just things, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Brady keeps asking when we’re going back, and I don’t have an answer. Aspen is too little to understand, but she knows something is different. I see it in the way she clings to me a little tighter at night. I hate that I can’t fix this for them.

The only thing keeping me sane through all of this has been Shay and Jared. They didn’t hesitate to take us in, to give us a place to land when everything was falling apart. I don’t know what I would have done without them. Having people who show up, who don’t make me feel like a burden, has been the one bright spot in all of this.

And then, there’s Jensen.

I really thought we had made peace with each other. Co-parenting has been messy, but we found a way to make it work—for Brady, for Aspen. So when I found out he was filing for 50/50 custody, I was completely blindsided. No conversation, just a text that he's already talked to his lawyer and to expect paperwork that changes everything.

It’s not that I don’t want him in their lives. He’s a good dad, and I would never take that away from them. But we had an agreement, a rhythm that worked, and now he’s flipping the script like the last eight years of compromises never happened. Like my opinion, my sacrifices, don’t matter.

And, of course, he’s engaged. Again. To Nina.

I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. Maybe because this isn’t just about his fifth engagement—it’s about all the promises that never seemed to mean anything in the end. When he first told me Nina was pregnant with Matilda, it shattered me. I tried to act like it didn’t, like I’d moved on, but deep down, it broke something in me. And then he showed up at my house that night—frustrated, emotional, nostalgic—and one thing led to another.

And suddenly, there was Aspen.

Sure, I didn’t tell him right away. Jared spilled the beans before I ever got the chance. But I think some part of me held onto the idea that Aspen was different. That she was meant to be the last piece of the chaos between us. That, no matter what happened, she would be the one thing we could both hold onto.

But now, Jensen is talking about having more kids with Nina like none of those promises ever existed.

I don’t know why it still stings. Maybe because I believed him. Maybe because, despite everything, I wanted to hold onto something special between us. But people change. Promises fade. And I guess I was the idiot for thinking things would be different this time.

So here I am, trying to rebuild a life I didn’t expect, in a place I never planned to be, while juggling heartbreaks I didn’t see coming. Some days, it feels impossible. Other days, I remind myself that I’m stronger than I think.

At the end of the day, I have Brady and Aspen—they’re my whole world. No matter what happens, no matter how much things change, they’re the one thing I will always fight for.

And that’s what keeps me going.

[quietbluejay]

Transformers Infiltration #1

Here we go! the beginning of the continuity, folks!

Also just as a disclaimer, I'm going to be possibly referring to events that happen later. I'll try to cut down on doing this, or do separate posts when I talk about it, but it is gonna come up. I'll also try to keep spoilers to a minimum!

I can't believe we can date this just based on page 1

man this is such a nostalgic look really reminds me of the Providence bus station where I used to take the bus to Boston all the time

Verity: I watch the ebb and flow…the human tide…

Time to finally meet our protagonist

was anyone really wearing layers like that in 2006? in arizona?? i mean no one at my high school was dressing like that and I was a good number of parallels north of here lol however verity is not alone…

"Target acquired"

dun dun dunnn

bus heads off

yeah our girl verity is a thief if you didn't pick up on that from the first page

she streetches out a hand carrying a knife through the gap in the seats

narration as she cuts open the bag: he'll have to explain to his boss...

narration as she pulls a small electronic device out of the bag: ...how he lost his expensive computer

Narration as the bus stops: the near rancid bagel…

"Never fails. Hot bus, sick girl..."

"...couldn't let me off fast enough."

Verity leans over, her hands on her legs, as the bus door closes behind her

to tldr, her last laptop died on her a week ago (in Denver) and I dunno US geography that well but that's pretty far from Arizona right?

anyways she's been looking for a replacement since

she riffles through the bag and pulls out a palm pilot in triumph

"is back in the game!"

she sticks her thumb out at the side of the road

ominous

and now...

ITS MY BOI

lmao i do find it hilarious he tells you how to pronounce his name when he has presumably just said it to her

Verity: Verity. Verity Car-ter. Like it sounds.

Hunter makes a comment about how people always make jokes about his name

i would like to wish that one comic reviewer who said that modern day Hunter would be a 4chan incel who sends hatemail to women on twitter a very kick rocks

Verity mentions that that sounds like it's in the middle of nowhere

Hunter umms and ahhs and nervously scratches his nose

Hunter: I just head north there, is all, on the one seventy-seven

I love these two

Verity:…some kind of back-to-nature boy?

Hunter tells her to forget it, she'll just think he's weird

meanwhile hanging from his mirror is a little green alien toy

Verity: you're looking for little green men, right?

she pokes at the little alien hanging there

Hunter:…not exactly. I-

Verity rummages in her bag

Hunter puts up a hand

Hunter: Easy, easy. Look-

Hunter says it's just a short detour

huh that bus looks familiar

Verity: where are you going now? don't-

the salesman Verity stole from vanished!

Bus driver says everything's fine, just an accident and a guy who wandered off

Hunter: you...sure?

Driver: Sure. Bus company's got us on GPS. They're on their way…

Hunter: Right. Good.

meanwhile in the distance are 3 puffs of smoke or dust

and a THUM THUM noise

Verity and Hunter head off and she queries him again about what he's out here looking for

Hunter: would you believe…

he pulls out a file folder

Hunter: …giant robots?

he has printouts of the first page of his website

Verity: and what? we just haven't noticed?

she's clearly holding back laughter

Hunter frowns

Hunter: They're in disguise!

Verity leans back, laughing

Verity: Hah! Of course!

one thing is i do like the art of the humans the faces are pretty expressive also they're not like, weirdly attractive, you know?

i'm also seeing some subtle manga style bits like you tended to see in some comics art of this period like ultimate xmen had some too oh huh E.J. Su neat to see how his art evolved

oh goodness Josh Burcham did some of the colouring for this issue wow he's been working in transformers since this far back?

HIIII TC! NICE TO SEE YA!

Hunter floors it

Hunter: …not our military!

meanwhile ahead of them, they see the plane turning around and coming back towards them

Hunter: I think maybe we were just…scanned, and whatever it was looking for…

i…think this is Starscream maybe

??? (possibly starscream): and purge!

meanwhile Hunter grabs Verity's arm and pulls her out of the car as he starts running

Hunter: move!!

Verity: okay, okay

Hunter's van is destroyed in an explosion rip hunter's van

again, liking this art it's not like the most amazingly prettiest but it's nice and dynamic and really gives a sense of the characters and place

then we get to see TC's empty cockpit

Hunter: Surrender's not an option hunter how the heck did you look inside that plane as it flew over you at whatever speed TC was at hunter do u have elf eyes

we also have to wonder how they still have hearing lol writer fiat

Verity: this is not happening...

Hunter pulls her arm again

Hunter: It is...now c'mon!

TC circles around

he's keeping it together fairly well but meanwhile this is such an OCP for verity

the two of them run as Verity keeps a hand on her bag

guns pop out of the roof of the car in front of them

ah wait, it's an ambulance

it (well, mild spoilers, but he) fires a rocket at Thundercracker

and the issue ends there

man im sad what ended up happening to these guys

way underused by later parts of the continuity

and there's an interview with Furman at the end! which I'll make a separate post for

[heaven-s-black-box]

Crazy in love- Bokuaka

Return to File

Recovery date: March 1st, 2020

Description: "Would you grab my arm so I can tell my friends I've been touched by an Angel?", "Excuse me it's trash day so can I take you out?", "Do you have a bandaid cause I scraped my knee falling for you."

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with @nxlx96, we thank them for their contribution. Spoiler warning for the manga.

Word count: 612

Back to directory

The first time Bokuto used a pick line on Akaashi was when he asked him out. It was at the end of Akaashi’s first year after practice.They’d been doing extra practice when Bokuto started getting really quiet. And after a year with him Akaashi knew that a quiet Bokuto was never good. A quiet Bokuto meant he was in a slump or he was over thinking something. The second one didn’t happen often.

It couldn’t have been a slump because his spikes were fine. So he must have been overthinking something. But Akaashi couldn’t think what it was. He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed when Bokuto joined him by the door. He was very fidgety now and looked nervous.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

“Yes Bokuto-san,” he said looking up at him.

“It’s trash day,” he said.

“Yes?” At this point Akaashi was pretty confused.

“So… CAN I TAKE YOU OUT!”

Akaashi jumped back at the sunden loudness. He stood in shock for a bit and Bokuto started to look worried. Suddenly Akaashi burst out laughing. And that was the story of how they started dating.

---

It quickly became Bokuto’s way of cheering Akaashi up. If Akaashi looked sad, Bokuto would tell him the worst pick up line he could think of. Even years later after they graduated Bokuto made sure to tell him a monthly pickup line. Akaashi going to uni and Bokuto joining the Black Jackal’s meant they didn’t see eachother often. Akaashi tried not to let it get to him, but that was easier said than done.

Bokuto had been staying with Akaashi over the few days off he got for christmas. So when he had to leave Akaashi was there at the train station with him. He kept reminding himself he’d only be in school a little while longer, then he could get a job and find a place. He could move closer to Bokuto, and he’d be able to take vacation days. Again, he was so lost he thought he jumped when Bokuto said his name.

“Hey Keji? Can you kiss me so I can tell my friends I was kissed by an angel?”

Akaashi leaned up and kissed him just as the train pulled in. When they seperated Bokuto waved goodbye and entered the train. A little while longer, he thought.

---

At the end of the Black Jackal VS Schweiden Adlers, Akaashi and the others all went to congratulate their former team mates. They had all changed since highschool, but it still felt the same. The bickering, the yelling, it was all so nostalgic. He decided that now was the best time, so he carefully slipped something into Bokuto’s pocket.

Since everyone was here they decided to go to dinner to catch up. All of a sudden Akaashi tripped. “Ow,” he said, “Koutarou, do you have a bandaid?”

“I might!” Bokuto announced fishing through his pocket. Then he felt something strange in his pocket.

At this point everyone was standing around them, Akaashi may have told Tenma Udai about his plan. Tenma decided to tell the others so they wouldn’t offer up bandaids for Akaashi. Bokuto pulled out the strange object and his eyes widened. Akaashi cleared his throat and took the ring from Bokuto getting on one knee.

“Because I scraped my knee falling for you.”

Bokuto didn’t exactly give him a verbal answer, he just jumped on him. They fell back onto the pavement and started laughing while their friends clapped and cheered. He was pretty sure he heard Tsukki call him crazy. Maybe he was… no scratch that. He definitely was crazy… Crazy in love.

[duhragonball]

Hey, im just wondering, do you have any other socials we can follow you on? I'v heard some forboding things about Tumblr staff layoff spelling the end of this site

You can find me on Twitter here: https://twitter.com/duhragonball

That's it, other than my AO3 account, which isn't much of a social media platform, and my decades-old livejournal, which I haven't touched in years.

I misread your message and thought you were referring to something ending Twitter, and I was all set to talk about how people have been predicting the downfall of Twitter for over a year now. I believe it will probably meet a bad end, and sooner rather than later, but the way the userbase talks Twitter already shut down six or seven times already. It still basically works when I use it. It's gotten shittier, but it was pretty shitty when I joined. It amazes me that people are nostalgic for the days when Jack Dorsey was running things.

Anyway, you said Tumblr, and I don't know anything about that site's woes. I will say that I only got active on Twitter because there was a nonzero chance of Tumblr imploding after the 2018 pr0n ban. There's still a nonzero chance, but 2018 was five years ago, and we're all still here. I'm not holding my breath.

Let me ask the question, since it's been a while since I brought it up: What's the move now with social media? Is Blue Sky any good? I could probably bum an invite from someone since lots of Twitter folks are giving them away, but I don't want to fool around with setting up a new thing and then never use it.

Same thing with Pillowfort. I was curious about it when it was announced, but I'm like the opposite of an early-adopter. I like to wait a while and see if things will stick. And there doesn't seem to be much news coming out of it. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

I have no interest in the Facebook/Meta/Instagram mess. YouTube and Tik-tok are non-starters, since I'd have to waste a bunch of time producing videos. What else is there?

I have a discord, but I really need to sort out how I use it. A few years ago I had envisioned making a server and inviting people to join it, but I'm not sure I have the motivation for something like that anymore.

These days, I've got half a mind to just run a shitty personal website, like the one I had in 1996. Back then, you only had 10 megabytes of space to work with, and it would take all damn day to put a picture of the Emperor from Star Wars on it and get it to display correctly. But at least I knew it'd be there the next day. Wait, no I didn't.

Anyway, the internet's always been an ephemeral beast. I won't say it hasn't changed, but I can't claim it was better in the Olde Days either. I saw someone complain recently that all you can do with it now is watch videos and shop, and back in the 90's you couldn't really do either of those things easily, so you'd just read text pieces with funny pictures, and maybe download a .wav file of the Incredible Hulk theme song.

But I'm getting off track. I'm on twitter. And here, and that's about it. I'm open to suggestions.