#but they need their connections and chatter

[reccyls]

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Part 2)

My translation of Victor's 2025 birthday story

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor's POV)

---

In the sitting room of an orphanage, we sat opposite of the young man who was in charge of the facility.

Victor: If you have any difficulties, feel free to share them with us.

According to William’s mission report, the previous orphanage director and his associates had been dealt with.

(The former director had abused the children here, and even taken part in human trafficking.)

Orphanage Director: I know I’ve only just become the director recently. Orphanage Director: But there are still some children who are wary of me…

The troubled director had no clue about what his predecessor had done.

(William’s fake mission was to verify whether or not the new director had any connection to the previous one.)

But Victor had already determined the man’s innocence.

Victor: If it’s all right, could we meet with the children?

…

The director showed us to the orphanage’s garden, where I could hear excited voices chattering.

Kate: They look like they’re doing well.

Victor: The most important thing for children is that they’re happy.

Victor’s profile as he watched over the children was overflowing with affection.

Victor: When these children grow up, they will be the foundation that supports this country. Victor: Just like you.

His hand was still holding mine. Aside from his warmth, there was something else that made my heart race. And right then, a boy pointed at us.

Energetic Boy: Those grownups are being lovey-dovey!

Kate: L-Lovey dovey!?

At the boy’s shout, the other children began ooh-ing and aah-ing as they gathered around. However…

(Ah.)

At the periphery of my vision, I could see a girl with a guarded look in her eyes. Victor noticed her too, and he smiled.

Victor: Everyone, look closely! On the count of three, flowers are going to fly out of our hands!

Raising our joined hands high in the air, Victor encouraged the children to count along.

Victor: Three! Two! One! Abracadabra!

Children: Wow!!

I was as surprised as the children were when flowers began raining from our hands.

Victor: Oh? I think today’s a good day for me. Victor: That’s not all I’ve got!

Flowers sprouted from Victor’s sleeves, and doves flew out of his coat.

(That girl looks a little more relaxed now.)

I looked over the girl, who was now looking directly our way.

Victor: Kate.

I realized that Victor had slipped something into my hand, and then I slowly approached the girl. When I reached the nervous girl, I crouched down and opened my hand.

Wary Girl: Wow…

A flower unfurled in my palm.

Kate: That mister over there is really good at magic tricks. Kate: Do you want to watch some more with me?

It took some time, but the girl eventually nodded and put her hand in mine. Making sure she was okay, I stood up.

Kate: Let’s go!

…

In no time at all, we’d gotten close to the children and played with them in the garden. However…

(I’m… at my limit… Victor’s amazing…)

He was the exact opposite of my exhausted self, still overflowing with energy as he played with the children. Even the children who were initially wary were now happily running about hand-in-hand with Victor.

(The mission may have been fake, but I’m glad we came here today.)

Even if Crown punishes the wicked, the wounds of those affected by their evil don’t disappear. But life goes on.

(So that no one will ever hurt anyone like these children have been hurt…)

Kate: I need to work harder.

Victor: I think you already work hard enough.

Kate: Victor! I thought you were still playing with the kids?

I didn’t notice when Victor had sat down beside me. He gave me a self-pitying smile.

Victor: I’d forgotten that children have infinite energy.

He let out an enormous sigh, and as I laughed, I placed my hand over his.

Kate: You shouldn’t work too hard either, all right?

Victor: Hm?

Kate: Both Crown and I care about you a lot. We don’t want you to push yourself too much. Kate: When you find yourself overwhelmed, it’s fine to reach out to someone else for help.

Victor normally works so hard that we’ve had to resort to creating a fake mission to get him to take a break.

(It really does worry me…)

Victor: You’re the same as ever.

A gentle, yet somehow melancholy, smile found its way onto Victor’s face as he brushed my cheek. When I realized he was touching me, I felt my face heat up. But then–

Kate: Oh!

I suddenly remembered something important, and stood up abruptly.

Victor: Kate? What’s the ma-

Kate: I- I, um. I have to, uhh, wash my hands!

Throwing out the first excuse to cross my mind, I raced away, ignoring Victor’s calls behind me.

…

(William helped make the reservation, but I’m still amazed at how well it turned out. I’m glad.)

Carefully packed in the box I was holding to my chest was Victor’s birthday cake. The important errand I had to run was to pick up the cake William and I had ordered.

(Victor must be pretty worried right now after I ran off…)

The cake shop was only a few minutes away from the orphanage. However, the sun was now beginning to set, so I quickened my pace.

Kate: I hope Victor likes it.

Absorbed by my thoughts, I didn’t notice the hand reaching out to me from behind.

Kate: Wha-

The moment I realized that something was being pressed against my mouth, I felt myself growing weak. The box slipped from my grasp.

Kate: Vic… tor…

The world went dark.

[til-all-are-loved]

{This Charming Man Part 7} MTMTE Megatron x Reader | SFW

Total word count 11k Chapter word count 2.2k

You meet with Ultra Magnus briefly—little more than an exchange of pleasantries and business. He stands as rigid as ever, posture impeccable, optics scanning you as if assessing your readiness for duty. You think about telling him. The words sit at the edge of your tongue, heavy and certain: I’m resigning.

But something stops you. Maybe the timing isn’t right. Maybe you just don’t want to deal with whatever reaction he might have. Instead, you nod along to whatever he’s saying, make an excuse about being needed elsewhere, and leave.

Elsewhere turns out to be the ship’s repurposed presentation room, now a makeshift movie theater. The walls still bear traces of their original function—screens meant for briefings and tactical analyses, now adjusted to accommodate entertainment. Your usual crowd is already there when you arrive: Swerve, talking animatedly; Tailgate, bouncing with enthusiasm; Rewind, inspecting the setup with keen interest; and Chromedome, standing slightly apart, arms crossed in a loose but thoughtful manner.

You’re here to help install some human tech—a simple but effective resolution upgrade that should bring the video quality up to standards a Cybertronian processor might not typically prioritize. It’s a task you enjoy, something tactile and familiar, and the banter around you makes it all the better.

“So, wait,” Swerve says, peering over your shoulder. “You’re telling me that your movies were always this... fuzzy?”

“Not fuzzy,” you correct, tightening a connection. “Just lower resolution. Human eyes are a lot more discerning than you’d think.”

Rewind, ever the archivist, hums in agreement. “It makes sense. Your visual fidelity technology had to be top-tier to make up for organic limitations. Cybertronian optics process differently—we don’t always need that kind of refinement.”

Tailgate pipes up, “Yeah, but I still think it’s weird. If you can’t see in, like, multiple spectrums, what’s the point of making it so crisp?”

You laugh. “Because we like things to look good.”

The conversation flows easily, filled with the kind of light-hearted exchanges you’ve come to expect from this group. But amid the chatter, your attention drifts to Chromedome. He’s present, polite when addressed, but never fully engaged. There’s a distance—not unkind, but undeniable. It isn’t the first time you’ve noticed this with some of the larger bots. They acknowledge you, even respect you, but there’s an invisible barrier between acknowledgment and true camaraderie.

Size. A simple thing, but a defining factor. The minibots don’t feel so out of reach—perhaps because they, too, know what it’s like to be the smaller presence in a vast world. You look at Tailgate, at Swerve, at Rewind, and feel a familiar warmth settle in your chest. The small have to stick together. Even if you barely reach Swerve’s hip, there’s a shared understanding here that transcends stature.

Eventually, the installation is done. Chromedome is the first to leave, murmuring something about needing to check in with Rewind later. The rest of you head into a backroom to start uploading footage, eager to see if the system works as intended.

And that’s when he arrives.

Megatron’s presence is felt before it’s seen—a shift in atmosphere, a tension that settles like a tangible weight. He steps into the dimly lit space, expression unreadable, optics glinting with something you can’t quite place.

The chatter dies down. Swerve, always one to recognize an awkward moment before it happens, mutters something about checking the front display and quickly excuses himself. Tailgate follows after a brief pause, Rewind lingering only a moment longer before he, too, disappears through the doorway.

That leaves just you. And Megatron.

He doesn’t speak right away. His optics flick toward the newly installed tech, then back to you. You sense his attention, but it’s not sharp, not demanding. Not yet.

“Y/N you seem… distracted.”

His voice isn’t just measured—it’s cold. There’s no room for pleasantries.

You rest a hand against the console, watching him. “Is that a problem?”

His optics narrow, something simmering behind them. “It will be.”

That lands heavier than you expect.

You swallow, holding your ground. “Why?”

He steps closer, not looming, but enough to make the distance between you feel small. “Because there’s no room for uncertainty here.” His tone is flat, clipped. “Not for me. Not for you.”

Your fingers curl slightly against the console. You crane your neck to meet him in the optic, “I don’t think I’ve been careless.”

Megatron’s optics flash. “Then what do you call this?” His hand flicks toward you—not quite a gesture, not quite dismissive, but something in between. “You hesitate. Your mind is elsewhere. I see it. Everyone sees it.”

You hold his gaze, pulse in your throat. “And what? That makes me a liability?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer right away. Maybe because he doesn’t know the answer himself.

You exhale sharply. “One moment, you act like I barely matter. Next, you’re keeping me close. What am I supposed to make of that?”

That brings the briefest flicker of hesitation. It’s quick, nearly imperceptible, but it’s there.

“I’m not obligated to explain myself to you.” His tone should be final, but something about it isn’t.

You let out a slow breath, shaking your head. “I think you want me to be useful.” You glance at him, watching for any reaction. “Beyond that? I have no idea.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something too tightly wound. His vents cycle once, slow and deliberate, like he’s forcing the tension from his frame.

“…That makes two of us.”

That shouldn’t throw you. But it does.

For a second, it feels like the whole conversation is leading somewhere dangerous, like pressing forward might tip it over an edge you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

So you don’t. Instead, you say the first thing that slips past your lips before you can overthink it.

“…Would you like to watch a movie?”

He hesitates. Not out of doubt, not out of calculation—but because for once, he doesn’t seem to know what to say.

The moment lingers just long enough before he steps back, exhaling as he turns toward the exit. “We’ll see,” is all he says before he leaves.

The door hisses shut behind him.

You barely have a second to process what just happened before Swerve and Tailgate barrel back in, the shift in atmosphere immediate.

“So what was that?” Swerve says, grinning like he already knows the answer.

Tailgate bounces beside him. “Are you inviting Megatron to movie night?”

You roll your eyes, pushing off the console as you head for the door. “He won’t show.”

---

Later that evening…

The steady hum of Tailgate’s engine fills the corridors as he drives you toward the repurposed theater room, his usual enthusiasm bubbling through the quiet ride. It’s comfortable, even if the question he asks isn’t.

“So, you and Megatron,” he starts, voice light but curious. “What’s the story there?”

You huff a small laugh, leaning back as the hallway blurs past. “There’s no story.”

Tailgate lets out a thoughtful hum, turning a corner a little faster than necessary. “Well, yet,” he muses. “But, y’know… It’s kinda interesting, right? You two talk a lot. More than anyone else, I think.”

That’s an exaggeration, but you don’t bother correcting him. Instead, you shake your head, keeping your response measured. “It’s like, we speak to each other, but we say very little and yet it feels like a lot.” 

“But it’s not like that Tailgate.” you amended lightly

“But if it was, I’d be supportive!” he says quickly, like he can already sense your reluctance. “I mean, yeah, he used to be Megatron, but he’s, like, different now, right? He’s trying.”

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something so earnestly Tailgate about this—about the way he sees the world. Simple. Hopeful. It’s hard to be annoyed when you know he means well.

“I’ve never been one for uncalculated risks,” you admit, watching the corridor lights flick past. “But now’s not the worst time to start.”

Tailgate makes an excited revving sound, and you flick his dashboard in response, a silent drop it. He gets the message, coasting into the open space near the presentation room.

“Okay, okay, I won’t bug you about it.” The second the doors slide open, he transforms and gestures grandly toward the entrance. “But if something happens, I totally called it.”

You step out, shaking your head as you walk inside. The theater space is already filling up, dim light from the projector casting long shadows along the walls. A few bots have already taken their seats, drawn in by the promise of a classic Noir films.

Rewind sits near the front, adjusting his lenses, likely preparing to compare the film’s historical accuracy against Earth’s actual mid-century crime scene. Rung has settled in beside him, hands folded neatly in his lap, watching the flickering previews with quiet interest. Perceptor, as expected, is in the corner, his optic display already analyzing the cinematography, probably breaking it down frame by frame. Chromedome, arms crossed, remains a little more detached, but he’s here, which means something.

It’s the kind of film that draws in the more analytical bots—those who appreciate subtext, who like stories that don’t tie themselves into neat resolutions.

You finish setting up the system. The film is about to begin. Then, just before the lights dim completely, the door at the back of the room hisses open. A presence lingers in the doorway. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Megatron doesn’t enter right away. He stands at the threshold, scanning the room, the audience, the screen. Assessing.

And then, without a word, he steps inside and takes a seat.

The film unfolds in flickering black and white. Rain slicks the streets, a lone detective leans against a payphone, the brim of his hat shadowing tired eyes. A woman’s voice crackles through the receiver—smooth, practiced, hiding something beneath the surface.

The room stays quiet, absorbed.

Megatron doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shift in his seat, doesn’t vent in frustration the way some bots do when they find human storytelling too slow. He just watches. You steal a glance at him once, maybe twice. His optics stay fixed on the screen, tracking every detail like he’s dissecting it.

He’s enjoying it.

You can tell by the way he leans forward slightly—not enough for most to notice, but enough that you do.

The movie rolls on. The detective chases a truth he already knows will ruin him. The woman in the fur coat isn’t who she says she is. The city is soaked in betrayal, and everyone’s hands are dirty. The atmosphere settles in like cigarette smoke in a room with no open windows.

And then, finally, the last line.

“You can’t rewrite history, but you can choose what parts to carry with you.”

A final shot—tail lights disappearing into the night. The music swells, then fades. The projector hums to a stop.

Murmurs rise from the audience. Rewind starts talking before the credits even finish rolling, already dissecting the historical accuracy of the setting. Nightbeat is animated, pointing out the film’s detective tropes with enthusiasm. You push yourself up onto your feet, stretching, satisfied that the night went well.

“I enjoyed that.”

You turn.

Megatron stands just beside you just out of periphery, arms folded, optics still carrying the last of whatever thoughts the film left him with.

You turn. “…Yeah?”

A small nod. “Yes. The dialogue was sharp. Efficient.” He tilts his head slightly. “And the conclusion—predictable, yet… satisfying.”

You covet a strange, almost ridiculous sense of pride at that. Like you won something.

“Well,” you say, “I’ll have to pick another one sometime.”

Something about that makes him pause. The set of his jaw loosens as if he was about to say the first thing on his mind, before tightening to reconsider. As if the thought is something he hadn’t considered before.

“…I’d be interested in that.”

Your fingers curl slightly at your side. You clear your throat, trying to shake off the warmth tickling your cheeks. .

Megatron shifts—only slightly—but then does something unexpected.

He smiles.

Not fully. Not broadly. It’s barely there. But it’s the honest to goodness real thing.

And worse—awkward.

The great and terrible Megatron does not know how to properly smile at someone. The realization nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“Thank you,” he says, voice quieter now. “For the invitation.”

He straightens, stepping back toward the exit. He hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, then meets your gaze.

“Goodnight, Ambassador.”

It shouldn’t be anything. Just words. 

“…Goodnight, Megatron.”

The door shuts behind him.

A second later, the overhead lights flicker back on, bright and unflinching.

You blink against the sudden change, heat still lingering on your face. Your hand twitches at your side, resisting the urge to touch your own cheek—like that would somehow erase the evidence.

No one’s looking at you. No one cares that you’re standing here, flushed and off-balance over nothing. Absurdly, painfully obvious.

You inhale sharply, shaking it off as you scan the room. Tailgate is by the exit, already transformed, idling expectantly. You make your way over.

“Give me a ride home?”

He beeps his horn cheerfully, like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Of course!”

The doors open, and you climb in, settling into the seat. The engine hums beneath you as he pulls out of the theater.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Happy Valentine's Day!

Pairing: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Knockout, Steve x gn!human!Reader Rating: SFW Summary:Spending valentine's day with your special bot ✨ Warnings/Tags: Fluff, nuff said. Word Count: 1400+ words  

I feel Optimus is a romantic at heart, but circumstances leave little room for him to tend to the unorthodox relationship he has with you–a human. 

Still, he finds ways to spend time with you and show you all the ways he adores you. 

Eye-to-optic contact that lingers as he leaves the room, soft kisses to the side of your head whenever the two of you were alone, and your favorite—the long drives filled with conversations between the two of you (heartfelt, light, or otherwise you enjoy spending time with the leader in blue and red). 

So when the month of february arrived, Optimus was puzzled at the light jabs and teasing from the children (mostly from Miko) about needing to get you a gift. 

Later 'research' led him down the rabbit hole that was the lovey-dovey holiday that celebrated a couple's love for each other. 

What worried him wasn't needing to get you a gift, but the fact you made no mentions of this holiday to him. Optimus finally connected the dots and understood why he saw so many hearts decorated on the shops and buildings he'd pass by on a drive. 

Shaking his thoughts away, he decided he'll abide by Earth's customs and get you a gift. 

Imagine your surprise on the morning of Valentines to be awakened by the blare of Optimus's horn. 

You rushed to get dressed and stepped outside to approach the opened door of the driver's side. 

A low hum of the radio playing a cheesy love song you've found yourself bobbing your head to a couple times in the past. 

When you looked down,

There, on the seat sat a bright pink heart-shaped box and a bouquet of flowers. 

You immediately questioned him, your tone light and filled with confusion–but that didn't stop the heat radiating off of your cheeks. 

Optimus wasn't flustered by your reaction and he answered. 

That's how you learned that Optimus had planned a whole afternoon to spend the holiday with you. He asked if his actions were too much, to which you laughed and reassured him it wasn't too much. 

Honestly, you were touched and even told Optimus that you didn't expect him to go out of his way to bring you gifts. Let alone spare enough time to plan a date. You knew how busy he was and how were you going to expect an alien that's only been on Earth for a short time to know everything? Still, it was a nice gesture. 

Optimus asked if this meant you'd be his valentine, and who could say no to that? 

Hopping in, you and the Prime rode around Jasper warmed by each other's company and idle chatter. 

I feel Optimus is a romantic at heart, but circumstances leave little room for him to tend to the unorthodox relationship he has with you–a human. 

Still, he finds ways to spend time with you and show you all the ways he adores you. 

Eye-to-optic contact that lingers as he leaves the room, soft kisses to the side of your head whenever the two of you were alone, and your favorite—the long drives filled with conversations between the two of you (heartfelt, light, or otherwise you enjoy spending time with the leader in blue and red). 

So when the month of february arrived, Optimus was puzzled at the light jabs and teasing from the children (mostly from Miko) about needing to get you a gift. 

Later 'research' led him down the rabbit hole that was the lovey-dovey holiday that celebrated a couple's love for each other. 

What worried him wasn't needing to get you a gift, but the fact you made no mentions of this holiday to him. Optimus finally connected the dots and understood why he saw so many hearts decorated on the shops and buildings he'd pass by on a drive. 

Shaking his thoughts away, he decided he'll abide by Earth's customs and get you a gift. 

Imagine your surprise on the morning of Valentines to be awakened by the blare of Optimus's horn. 

You rushed to get dressed and stepped outside to approach the opened door of the driver's side. 

A low hum of the radio playing a cheesy love song you've found yourself bobbing your head to a couple times in the past. 

When you looked down,

There, on the seat sat a bright pink heart-shaped box and a bouquet of flowers. 

You immediately questioned him, your tone light and filled with confusion–but that didn't stop the heat radiating off of your cheeks. 

Optimus wasn't flustered by your reaction and he answered. 

That's how you learned that Optimus had planned a whole afternoon to spend the holiday with you. He asked if his actions were too much, to which you laughed and reassured him it wasn't too much. 

Honestly, you were touched and even told Optimus that you didn't expect him to go out of his way to bring you gifts. Let alone spare enough time to plan a date. You knew how busy he was and how were you going to expect an alien that's only been on Earth for a short time to know everything? Still, it was a nice gesture. 

Optimus asked if this meant you'd be his valentine, and who could say no to that? 

Hopping in, you and the Prime rode around Jasper warmed by each other's company and idle chatter. 

Assuming you had become a human he tolerated enough to be in a relationship with, don't expect the doctor to be affectionate. 

Sure, he has his moments, but he's also the only medic in the team constantly making sure to oversee the operations at base and keep everyone alive. To say he'd barely have time to allow himself to sleep let alone be in a relationship is an understatement. 

The two of you made it work, it was something you knew when you came into the relationship and reassured him you won't expect to be swept off of your feet everyday.

I'd imagine Ratchet appreciating your understanding and would still try to find time to have one-on-one moments with you. 

So, when he offhandedly eavesdropped on the children's conversation about a holiday happening at their school, he did his own research and learned what Valentine's day was. 

He…didn't really see the point of the holiday other than humans wasting their time on something they could do everyday instead of one day out of a year. 

To each their own I suppose. 

Despite him being indifferent to the holiday, his processor is racing with a million ideas on how to celebrate with you on that day. 

Ratchet would work hard to block out an hour or two on the day just for the two of you. Whether you'd want to stay in his quarters to 'catch up' (wink wonk), take a drive around Jasper, or simply spend time at base while he did some light work, Ratchet would indulge you. 

First off, getting over his phobia of humans took a while, but you were patient and didn't push his buttons unlike all the other unsavory interactions he's had with humans. 

So, when you proposed celebrating valentines with your sorta-boyfriend-not-boyfriend, he wasn't totally against the idea. But he made it clear that he expected a lot from you.

To which you rolled your eyes at his taunt veiled underneath his smooth purr. He wanted to be impressed? Fine, you'll take that challenge without complaint—but you made the mistake of undermining his taste in gifts with a teasing comment of your own.

'Game on, squishy,' he'd say while tapping a sharp claw against your waist. 

Two days before the actual holiday were…tense. 

Both of you weren't seen together much and the secrecy of what the other would prepare for Valentines day kept the both of you on the edge of your seats. 

When the time came, both of you were exchanging petty insults and cackles to keep the other from figuring out just how nervous the other was. 

In truth, Knockout may be confident in his abilities but he wasn't sure with what little information he remembered about your favorite things would suffice. 

You, on the other hand, kept doubting if your gift would be up to par with that narcissist you've grown to love. 

Knockout was the first to present his gift, a basket filled with your favorite things and even added his own photo album filled with pictures of himself (how he managed to get an album and print photos is still a mystery to you). 

As he gloated about his gift, he didn't expect you to burst into tears. Of all the things, you didn't expect him to be so…sentimental. 

Reassuring him and sniffing back the tears enough to present your gift to him. A new buffer along with a 'pass' for you to wash his alt mode, which would really help especially with the difficult places to reach. 

Knockout, after gasping and snatching the buffer to examine it, interrogated you on how you managed to replicate his favorite buffer and even designed the new one to fit his paint job. He broke when he noticed his initials on the side of the handle written in a fancy font in his language. 

The two of you were a blubbering mess of compliments, head nuzzles, and you even got a kiss on the cheek from the hotshot. 

It's safe to say both of you had won the 'challenge.' 

You were snatched up in the middle of the night.

Yet, you weren't scared. Not in the slightest. 

Being 'kidnapped' was a norm for you and your partner to spend time together with what little space he had in his schedule. 

If he and you ever got caught, especially by someone from his 'workplace,' he'd have an excuse for having a human in his possession late at night to try and scheme against the Autobots. 

Anyway, it was a welcomed surprise (not really, you were still in your pajamas and half asleep) despite the heart attack you almost went through being grabbed from your window. 

You thought Steve wouldn't have any time to visit you on the holiday, and you were planning on spending it alone in your bedroom gorging on snacks. 

I guess Steve had a change of heart, or wanted to surprise you like this. 

You barely had time to process what was being said when you saw that Steve had parked in an abandoned parking lot. There wasn't much other than a large white board, few trash cans, and what looked to be a concession stand. 

That's when it clicked that you were in a drive-in theater. 

A light came on somewhere and a movie began to play on the screen, that's when the seats warmed and Steve's voice coaxed you to look in the backseat. 

You did and what you saw warmed your heart. Your favorite foods, flowers, chocolates, and a few balloons. You were probably still sleepy, but you swore you saw pieces of broken glass and ripped up price tags  among the pile of gifts. 

Eh, that's something you'll revisit later. 

Now, you and Steve watched the movie together, and when it finished, Steve ushered you out and transformed so the two of you can spend the rest of the night cuddling underneath the open sky. 

Hopefully, the sun stayed asleep for a few hours so you two could have that time to yourselves. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[silelda]

I do not begrudge my extroverted coworkers their need to talk.

I do not begrudge my extroverted coworkers their need to talk.

I do not begrudge my extroverted coworkers their need to talk.

I do not begrudge my extroverted coworkers their need to talk.

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

me, putting more symbolism into elias' story without even consciously realizing the Direct Story Connections:

[synthetic-rust]

What they don’t tell you about autism is that it feels like you’re simultaneously one step outside of reality yet two steps too far into it at all times

[agendratum]

cinematic parallels gifset happening!! tomorrow!! (maybe) (if i'm alive)

[rillette]

If Charlie Vicker were to come back into mainstream GL comics how would you want him to be characterized?

CHARLIE THE WORLDS BIGGEST CUNT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HORRIBLE NASTY JEALOUS BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need him to suck so soso bad. torn between charlie better person redemption arc vs being alone at the fuck end of the universe makes u crazy insane. guy who's mad about being in the middle of nowhere forgotten by everyone but doesnt reach out to other people bc he wants them to come to him first, driving himself further and further into isolation from his peers. he reads into every normal conversation wayyy more than is healthy. dissecting every word or expression for imaginary contempt or insult. hes the twitter user that sees your simple sentence and comes up with a whole new one. HUGEEEEEE inferiority complex + massive guilt complex because he got his brother killed. trapped unwillingly in the role of space wile e coyote. top ten guys that should never be left alone with themselves. he needs external validation to survive but he doesn't trust it when he gets it. i think he would fucking mald over nobody remembering his stupid ass. i am so normal about him

[drifloonz]

didnt wanna ramble more in my newest post but like. The implications of steven having 4 charizards in doors open is so fucking confusing, and unironically i am glad nobody takes doors open for characterization bc fanon steven would be even more confusing and worse. If we took s!3v3n characterization from doors open every interpretation of fanon s!3v3n would be "I HATE YOU IM GUNNA KILL YOU!!! IM YELLING AND IM GUNNA KILL YOU!!! THE YEAR 2010! SCARY! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE" ( <- hyperbolization but literally how he is in doors open just exaggerated Literally only a bit. ) instead of a creepy tall guy who lurks in the shadows or whatever.

Canon s!3v3n in doors open and strangled ( not strangled red hes just kind of creepy and silent there ) is like. The mental asylum pov video on tiktok. Which is really funny but not a good character(*&^

I am certain its just a "he has four bc they spell out one letter of MIKI in each of their names in order!" and its probably just for that but like. whyyyy does he have four of them.

Who gave you four charizards. Did he clone more. Did he get that insane. I dont want to seriously think abt lore implications of doors open other than the small details it gives abt stevens appearance and mikis moveset, because it is once again, Not Fucking written Well its just GRRR ill KILL YOU i HATE YOU IM GUNNA KILL YOU!!! so its not narratively interesting, especially from characterization standpoint for steven/s!3v3n and therefore i dont trust it but God.

Why does He have four of them. Did they split. The seven (aka four) miki souls ??? omega s!3v3n. This is going nowhere.

[the-chattering-tower]

Help I have a G5 from my Pure Progen Lineage Project sitting in my fodder pile that I forgot about and his colours are Not Bad and he'd make such a nice dusty

Also he's just cute in general

I am This Close to pulling him from my den and putting him on the AH despite the fact that I doubt he'd sell, bc I don't have the heart to fodder him

[delphi-shield]

I refer to claire as my girlfriend instead of my wife because i proposed to her and she said that was too fast for her and she's not ready for that kind of commitment yet so we're keeping it lowkey for now even though there's an ache in my belly every time she introduces me as her girlfriend that makes me writhe and chew myself open just to get the poison out.

yeah, we're pretty casual right now.

[idlenight]

How about Hollow Ground for the character bingo?

the way that i just found this ask ✨(im decently observant i swear!)

but by golly im still gonna do this now or my name isn't Idle 'normal about hollow ground' Night. ( i mean, legally it isn't but we can pretend for the bit).

BINGO BABY.

If I didn't already love Hollow Ground a normal amount (<- lying. loves hg an abnormal amount) from just witnessing him briefly in Retribution then you can imagine how absolutely normal (<- lying. i need to bite him like a chewtoy and rip him apart [affectionate]) I am feeling after playing the Revelation demo yesterday.

The ruthless Kingpin of Los Diablos? Who literally strings the entire city along? Who was a loving sibling? Who protects sidestep when they start having a panic attack in his mindscape even though step just invaded his mind?

I am Normal. I am Well Adjusted.

[chipistrate]

I needdddd to theorize on PQ4 specifically the ties to the MCI I'm gonna go fucking insane I might go replay PQ 1-3 and then rewatch PQ4 like a bajillion times I need to think of what this could mean cause with OMC being here and the Cassidy connections to the Princess (even if they aren't the same person that's still up in the air 2 me, there's still connections) and the graves and you needing to collect plushies of the OG animatronics and and and ujisdhfmvdcfhxnerjughvcxd

[queerwhohatesithere]

this has reminded me that i want a korean flag, it’s so pretty and i love the meaning behind it. apparently the creator’s name is gojung and it was in a magazine in the 1800’s. it’s beautiful

[acaciapines]

back on that owl house daemon au editing grind (ive been busy + writing other stuff so after editing one i sorta. stopped for a month or two lol) and. oh god i knew 2 was gonna be bad but its BAD yall. like not content-wise a lot of the actual writing + plot is totally fine and will stay but. i wrote this before i got into my grove of episode, inbetween, episode (ie 1 -> 1.5 -> 2) SO. THAT MEANS. THIS ENTIRE 30K THING IS GETTING SPLIT INTO 1.5 AND 2.....

and obvi i'll have to write a LOT bc the parts going into 1.5 and 2 are spread across the entire fic :) so uh. um. this is gonna be fun.

[edgepunk]

somehow I ended up playing my current NV run as this fella. yes that's Eli, they're transmasc agender (look if you can cure radiation sickness you sure as hell can get T shots) and yes that's a modded outfit