#could paint again after months felt so refreshed

[thatgothsamurai]

long time no Porsche⭐

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Jihoon, a shy guy, really wants to talk to you一the new pretty neighbor一but finds it a difficult mission. To help him out, he send his robot friend, Beep Boop, to make the connection as he watches through his window. Surprisingly, you adored Beep Boop, and his creator, Jihoon. — WC: 3.3k — WARNINGS: Fluff, social anxiety, isolation, potential overthinking, Beep Boop is a great buddy! [Issue Club Serie] — This is part 1 of Shy!Woozi. Check the Part 2

Jihoon stretched out on the bed, hearing the telltale beep of a reversing truck. The driver seemed less than careful, and the sound grated on Jihoon's nerves, pulling him out of his drowsy state. With a sigh, he finally opened the window, curious to see what the commotion was about. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed the window next door, previously closed for months, was now open. A moving truck was pulling away, leaving behind an air of change.

Jihoon’s mind wandered back to the previous resident, Miss Kim, who used to play the piano beautifully. He remembered the rainy nights when he was alone at home and Ahjussi would bring him kimchi, the warm, spicy smell filling the room. It had been a shame to see Ahjussi move to the countryside.

Curious about the new occupants, Jihoon went about his day, keeping an eye on the movement next door. The cool day felt refreshing, and the sunlight streaming through his window warmed his room. He picked up a poetry book, one he had started but never finished, and sat on his soft bed, losing track of time as he leafed through the pages.

Before he knew it, he was holding the last page of the book. "Yeah, it looks like I'm going to have to read it all again," he murmured to himself. Why were poetry books always so short? He didn't even understand most of what he had read.

But he knew the reason for his distraction. The open window in his room gave a clear view of the house next door. He could see newspapers scattered on the floor, evidence of a fresh start, and a newly painted wall. And then, there was you.

Your hair fell insistently over your face as you painted, your hands methodically rolling the paint onto the wall. Jihoon watched, intrigued. You seemed so focused, so immersed in your task.

Jihoon bit his lip, the internal struggle playing out on his face. Should he say something? Should he offer you help? From his window, you could clearly see or hear him if he did. He wished he had more social skills, the confidence to simply say, 'Hi, if you need help, I'm Jihoon, your new neighbor.' But no, striking up a conversation with someone he had never seen before, especially a girl, felt impossible. What if you thought he was weird? Or worse, what if you thought he was coming on too strong?

Feeling stupid for not being able to start a simple conversation, he sighed. After all, the architecture of the old houses in this neighborhood meant the windows were ridiculously large. You could see practically everything in your neighbor's life if you didn't have good curtains.

Jihoon was pulled out of his self-banter when you turned around, facing his window. He quickly hid himself against the wall, leaving your line of sight. You frowned, confused, then resumed your painting. But in his hasty movement, Jihoon noticed a treasure—his robot, a project he had worked on for college. A big friend that could help him interact with his new neighbor, at least as a conversation starter.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, putting supplies on the counter, when you heard a bell—not your doorbell, but some kind of chime. You frowned and opened your front door, only to be met by a robot with a humanoid shape, dressed in a big pink hoodie. Instead of a head, it had a large tablet displaying cute, animated emotions.

You looked around, unsure if you should talk to this... thing, or if it might explode if you said a word. Tentatively, you spoke, "Hi, big friend... how can I help you?"

The screen on the robot’s head displayed the word 'Welcome' and then a cute basket extended from its torso. Hesitant, you picked it up. As soon as you did, the robot turned around and rolled away on its wheels, heading towards the sidewalk. You stood there, paralyzed in your doorway, clutching the basket and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Um, thank you?" you called after it, not knowing if it could hear you.

The basket was filled with cookies一cookies that you can easily find in the market, but the intention is cute一, a small note tucked among them. You opened the note, which read:

"Hi! I'm your neighbor. I hope you enjoy these cookies. Welcome to the neighborhood! - Jihoon"

Jihoon doesn't know how many times he wrote and rewrote this, trying to make it beautiful and presentable for you to read.

You looked back at the robot, now waiting patiently at the sidewalk. Smiling to yourself, you felt a warm sense of welcome.

Back in his room, Jihoon watched anxiously from the window, biting his lip again. This time, though, it was out of nervous anticipation. He saw you reading the note and, after a moment, a smile spread across your face. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

The house was coming together nicely, and installing a few essentials was a breeze. Some furniture would come with time, but you had to admit, you were struggling to put together this wooden bench for your backyard. The sun was beating down on your skin, and you had already rebuilt the bench a couple of times, each time more frustrating than the last.

Beep beep

You heard the now-familiar sound. Glancing up, you saw the robot again, its tablet head showing a curious expression. You scoffed, feeling almost embarrassed that even the robot was witnessing your struggle with the instruction manual.

Before you could say anything, the screen changed, displaying a tutorial on how to assemble the exact wooden bench. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow, this would help a lot. Thanks, buddy," you said, genuinely appreciative. But then you glanced up at the scorching sun. "But the sun is brutal today. I hope you don't overheat or something."

You quickly opened the umbrella and positioned it over the robot, casting a nice shadow. "There you go, some shade for you. Now, let's get this bench sorted out."

Following the tutorial step by step, you began assembling the bench correctly this time. The robot beeped encouragingly, its screen displaying a thumbs-up emoji.

"Okay, piece A connects to piece B, and then this screw goes here..." you muttered to yourself, feeling more confident with each step. "This is actually going pretty well."

The robot beeped again, displaying a smiley face.

"Thanks for the help. I don't know what I'd do without you," you said, wiping some sweat from your forehead. "I guess I should also thank Jihoon, right? He really knows how to make a good first impression."

The robot nodded, or at least it looked like a nod, with the screen displaying an animated head bobbing up and down.

You laughed again, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with the machine. "Tell Jihoon I said thanks, okay?"

The robot beeped once more, its screen now displaying a "You're Welcome" message before it turned and rolled back towards Jihoon's house.

You wondered who was controlling this super kind robot. Jihoon must have seen you struggling with the bench all morning and sent the robot to help. You chuckled at the thought; he probably wasn't the best with assemblies himself. But it was endearing how you found yourself listening attentively to the robot, even asking if it could replay part of the video. When Jihoon replayed the part, your impressed face was priceless. You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, and Jihoon laughed too, watching from his window.

The umbrella part? That was pure instinct. You just didn't want the poor robot to overheat in the sun. Jihoon found that incredibly thoughtful. He mused that it was something only a woman would think of, a gentle touch he always admired. He wondered if you would do the same for him, considering his pale skin burned easily under the sun, but he brushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on it.

Days passed, and you missed your robot friend. After a particularly rough week, you found yourself sitting in your front yard, on your now fully assembled bench, drinking a cola. The night was calm, the neighborhood quiet. Then you saw it—a cute pixeled face approaching.

Beep beep, it sounded.

You couldn't help but smile. Tonight, the robot was dressed in a tiny blazer with a red tie.

You laughed, "Well, don't you look elegant tonight! Any special occasion?"

"I'm curious to know the person behind you, buddy," you continued, "all dressed up and everything."

To your amazement, the robot spoke. With a robotic yet clear voice, it said, "Hello, I am here to keep you company. Jihoon thought you might like that."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"You can talk!" you exclaimed, still processing the surprise.

“Yes, technology is getting scary, isn’t it?” the robot replied in a robotic voice, but with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute to be scary. I think you need a name.”

The robot made a giggling sound, a funny robotized laugh that made you chuckle. 

“How about… Beep Boop?” You suggest. 

“Beep Boop,” the robot repeated, its screen showing a happy face. “I like it.”

As you sat on the bench with Beep Boop, you couldn't help but wonder. "So, Beep Boop, why did Jihoon send you to talk to me?"

Beep Boop's screen flashed a thoughtful emoji before responding. "Jihoon thinks you look cool. But... he's weird."

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. "Weird? How so?"

Jihoon, watching through the robot's camera, felt a sense of anxiety.

Beep Boop continued, "He finds it hard to talk to people. Especially girls."

Your expression softened. "Oh, I see. Well, everyone has their quirks. He's kind to send you over, though."

Beep Boop's screen displayed a nodding emoji. "Jihoon says he likes watching you build things. He thought you might need a friend."

You smiled, feeling empathy. "That's really sweet of him. You can tell him he can come over whenever he feels ready. I'm not the type of person who's going to judge."

Jihoon, on the other end, felt a rush of relief.

"Do you think Jihoon likes cola?" you asked.

"Yes, Jihoon likes cola," Beep Boop replied.

You stood up, grabbing a plastic bag from inside and placing a few cans of cola in it. Tying the bag to Beep Boop, you patted the robot's head. "Here, take these to him. Maybe it'll help him feel more comfortable."

"Thank you," Beep Boop said, the screen displaying a happy face.

"You're welcome, Beep Boop. Tell Jihoon I appreciate him sending you over and that he can come by anytime."

As Beep Boop rolled away with the bag of cola, you watched with a smile. 

[...]

You affirmed that everything was fine, but a part of you couldn't help but find the whole "Beep Boop" thing slightly funny. But honestly, you found the idea rather adorable. It was intelligent of him to create such a robot—amazing, actually. 

Even though you hadn't seen Jihoon face-to-face, you thought he was pretty cool. From the glimpses you'd caught of him through the window, he looked quite handsome. And through Beep Boop, you learned that he liked music, had finished college, and worked remotely, which explained why he rarely left his house.

On the other side, Jihoon had been mentally preparing himself. You had been so kind with Beep Boop, and he couldn't imagine you hurting a mosquito. You were careful with the robot, even hugged it sometimes, and the little pats on its electronic head and the goodies you sent through it—Jihoon appreciated every gesture. 

Why should he hide himself any longer? 

He saw you arriving home today, your bag slung over your shoulder as you entered your house. He waited for a moment, then saw you in your bedroom after your bath. Breathing deeply, he opened his window.

"Psst!" he called out, trying to get your attention.

You turned towards his window, seeing Jihoon there, ready to talk, for the first time. His skin glowed softly under the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying gently in the breeze. His elbows rested on the windowsill, and you noticed his cheeks were blushing. You smiled and approached your window, leaning on it.

"Jihoon?" you asked, and he nodded shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Jihoon," you said, tilting your head.

Jihoon's feet were shaking anxiously where you couldn't see, but he managed to speak. "I, um, wanted to say hi in person. You've been really nice to Beep Boop and... and me."

You chuckled softly. "It's nice to finally meet the person behind Beep Boop. You're pretty amazing, you know? Creating such a robot."

Jihoon blushed deeper.  “I hope Beep Boop wasn’t too weird. I just... I didn’t know how to introduce myself.”

“Beep Boop was great. Very helpful, actually. And pretty entertaining.”

"Thank you. It was a college project, but I'm glad it's been useful. I just wanted to make things a bit easier. And maybe... I thought it would be a way to talk to you.”

You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, just looking at each other. Jihoon started to feel the anxiety creep back in, wondering if he should close the window and hide away again. But then you broke the silence.

“You’re so pretty, Jihoon,” you said softly.

Jihoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. “R-really? Thank you. You’re... you’re pretty too.”

You smiled warmly, feeling a flutter in your chest. "You know, you can come over anytime. You don't have to send Beep Boop every time. I promise I don't bite."

Jihoon laughed nervously. "I’ll keep that in mind. And thank you for the cola. It was really thoughtful."

"You're welcome," you said, your smile widening. "It's the least I could do for my new friend."

Jihoon’s heart swelled with warmth. He felt a sense of relief and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too," you replied, feeling the same warmth. "Goodnight, Jihoon."

"Goodnight," he said, and as he closed his window, he couldn't stop smiling.

You watched him disappear behind the curtains, and you were happy that he felt comfortable talking with you, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

You decided to take things slow, making sure Jihoon never felt pressured. The next day, as you watered your plants in the garden, Beep Boop appeared once again. Seeing an opportunity, you approached the robot with a smile.

"Hey, Beep Boop," you said warmly, "can you tell Jihoon something for me?"

Beep Boop's screen displayed a curious emoji. "Sure, what do you want me to tell him?"

You leaned in a bit closer, knowing Jihoon was likely watching through the camera. "Give him my number," you said, reciting it carefully. "Tell him he can text me anytime."

Beep Boop's screen showed a thumbs-up emoji, and you glanced up at Jihoon's window, giving a thumbs-up yourself. Almost immediately, you felt your phone buzz with a notification. Smiling to yourself, you knew it was Jihoon.

From that point on, you made an effort to bring out the best in Jihoon, genuinely wanting to hear more about him. The idea turned out to be a great success. Jihoon slowly began opening up, and now he would even give you a good morning through the window when you both opened the wooden shutters at the same time.

Of course, it took courage for Jihoon to start with the Beep Boop thing, but your kindness had helped him more than he could ever express. Now, you found yourselves often in each other's company, albeit separated by the window.

Today, you were reading a book while Jihoon wrote letters for his songs. You both leaned on your respective windows, the quiet filled with the sounds of children playing in the street and birds singing. Occasionally, you would steal a glance at each other, sharing brief smiles. The windows were close enough to allow for light conversation without any problem.

"What's your book about today?" Jihoon asked softly, not wanting to break the serene atmosphere.

"It's a collection of poems," you replied, looking up from the pages. "They’re really beautiful, but sometimes I get lost in the metaphors."

Jihoon nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I'm writing lyrics, I have to take a step back to make sure they actually make sense."

You chuckled. "I'd love to hear some of your songs someday."

"Maybe one day," Jihoon said, his cheeks reddening a bit. "When I’m ready."

You both fell back into a comfortable silence. The connection you were building felt natural and unforced. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and it felt like you were communicating more through those glances than words ever could.

After weeks of talking through windows, exchanging messages, and of course, through Beep Boop, it didn't take much time for the inevitable to happen.

You found yourself standing face to face with Jihoon at your door right now. There was no robot this time, just Jihoon nervously holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"Jihoon, you came!" you exclaimed, feeling a rush of happiness to see him standing so close to you.

Jihoon chuckled nervously, handing you the bouquet. "I, uh, brought these for you. I wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me."

You took the bouquet, the sweet scent of flowers filling the air. "Thank you, Jihoon. You didn't have to bring flowers, but I appreciate them." Stepping aside, you gestured for him to come in. "Come on in."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping into your home, his eyes scanning the interior briefly. "Your place is nice," he commented softly.

"Thanks," you replied, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe some cola?" you added playfully, remembering how you had often sent cola through Beep Boop.

Jihoon chuckled again, a bit more relaxed now. "Sure, cola sounds great."

You led Jihoon to the living room, where you offered him a seat on the comfortable couch. As you fetched two cans of cola from the fridge, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was surreal to have Jihoon in your home after all the conversations and moments shared through windows and messages.

Handing him a can of cola, you sat down beside him. "So, what made you finally decide to come over today?" you asked curiously.

Jihoon took a sip of his drink, gathering his thoughts. "I... I wanted to see you face-to-face. It's different, you know? Talking through windows and messages is nice, but... being here with you feels... real."

You smiled warmly at him. "I feel the same way, Jihoon."

He nodded, looking down at his cola can for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "I know I've been a bit... hesitant. But I really enjoy talking to you, and I want to get to know you better."

"I'm glad you came," you said sincerely, reaching out to gently touch his hand. "I've enjoyed getting to know you too, Jihoon."

He smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink. "Thanks for being patient with me."

"You're worth the wait," you assured him softly.

Jihoon's smile widened, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of confidence in his eyes.

[writersblockedx]

Dependency Problem

Pairing - Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader Summary - When you return to Cousins this year, you find that Conrad has picked up similar bad habits you once had. Warnings - Use of drugs and alcohol, good bit of angst, NO SPOILERS FOR S2 Words - 2.6k

A/n - Possible part two if people want? Let me know!

Masterlist

Every Summer was spent in Cousins. And every Summer, it was spent with the Fisher and Conklin clan. It was always refreshing, that slow drive back up to the house. The air was sprinkled with salt and the skies seemed always clear, a blue-painted ceiling that you could bathe in all day if you so pleased. But, the most important part of the drive was the reunion.

To see them little differences that had changed in everyone in between the last ten months. For Susannah, she had chopped a good bit of her hair off as her golden locks hung close to her shoulders. Laurel had started wearing less make-up, settling into a more comfortability with herself. Your mom had been the opposite, she was experimenting with makeup and style like she was a teen again; you blamed it on a midlife crisis. Belly had hit puberty, no longer plagued by a pair of glasses. Steven even more relaxed that he had been the year prior, and slightly taller. Jere's hair had grown, giving his curls the space to spiral over his forehead. And then there was Conrad - you noticed it instantly.

It was a familiar essence that was loitering over him. The unironed hoodie he had crowded his more lean figure into. His eyes were dragged down by the black bags, irritated with patches of red within the whites of his eyes. His posture was low, tired, aching. And his expression, while uplifted with a smile of welcome, was a facade. You caught it in a moment.

"Finally!" Jeremiah called as he rushed over to his friends, capturing Steven in a bro-hug first, then Belly and leaving you for last. "Good to have you back." He told you as his head sat on your shoulder before pulling away.

From there, you met Conrad's gaze.

You ignored the way your heart felt heavy. You weren't sure what had happened between now and when you had last said goodbye, but you felt far than enough sympathy. "Hi," You breathed, trying to not let out your surprise at the changes the boy had made.

He greeted you in reply with a, "It's good to see you." And took you into an embrace. It was loose and short-lived, leaving you desperate for more once he finally pulled away.

As the first day back went on, it soon all started coming out. Conrad had left football, barely sailed anymore and, as of this moment, wasn't doing anything at all. Compared to Steven and Jere who already had part-time jobs lined up. Something was wrong and you were beginning to wonder about would you could do. Such was confirmed after dinner came to an end. The boys rushed to play video games and Belly went upstairs to catch up with her friend, Taylor.

Which left you and the mums, clearing up the plates from the dining room table and taking them into the kitchen to be washed. For a moment, you stood alone at the kitchen sink while the others grabbed what was left at the table. And there, your eyes wandered to the window which looked upon the pool. There sat Conrad, legs dangling in the flickering water that reflected the moonlight. His eyes were down, his back facing you but even so you caught the cig he placed between his lips, lighting it and letting his lungs inhale the smoke.

It was there you felt that sympathy, that desperation with the lingering feeling of betrayal. The same exact thing Conrad had felt all of last Summer; it was a role reversal.

"He could really use you right now, you know?" That sweet voice almost made you jump.

A part of you felt flushed as you turned to face Susannah who was standing in the doorway; you'd just been caught staring at her son. "Hmm?" You resulted in responding.

The blonde let a smile grace her lips for a moment, "You two bring out the best in each other." She stated like the wise woman she was. "I think he could really use that right now."

You nodded in understanding, "I'll talk to him." That was a promise.

Once the table was cleaned up, the moms travelled towards the living room, wine glasses and blankets in hand. It hadn't taken them very long to get comfy as they switched the tv on. Though, it was made for only background noise, as their chatter rose above it. It left you with that nagging curiosity, the question that you hadn't stopped asking yourself since you had arrived: what had changed?

Before you could stop yourself, your feet were dragging you to the outside, where Conrad had thought nobody was watching. He didn't care enough to jolt when he heard the back door rattle open. Rather, he simply turned his head and huffed before looking back at the pool and the joint in his hand.

You didn't say anything. Not for at least two minutes as you occupied the space next to him, dipping your bare legs into the water below, almost close enough they could brush along Conrad's. "Theres about a hundred things I could repeat that you told me last year." You didn't look at him when you spoke, you didn't dare glance at the expression you were sure painted his face.

"But you're not going to?" He questioned, brows raised, plucking at his never-ending wonder when it came to the girl he had grown up beside.

You shrugged, swallowed the lump that was growing in your throat and finally looked over at the boy you had known since childhood. "What's the point?" You said, almost with a laugh you ended up suppressing. "You know it's not good, you know everything wrong with it. You're making the decision to do it anyway."

His expression was blank. It didn't seem as if there were many thoughts being processed. "Then what are you doing sat here?" There was a snap in his tone, a way to protect his bad habits from any helping hands.

The answer for you was simple: "Because I care for you, Conrad." As easy as that.

But such statement had prompted an incentive you hadn't meant it to. Rather than something thoughtful in reply, Conrad had started leaning in. You were too close and he was too fast for you to stop it. Within a moment, the sentiment you had just said had been cut off by the boy's lips as he met your own in a deep, yet rushed, kiss.

One hand reached his shoulder, tearing his lips from you. You breathed like you had been gasping for it and looked him in the eye. All that stared back at you was a regret that wasn't fading. "You're high." You reminded him.

"I didn't mean to-" Your other hand took the joint that was still caught between his fingertips. An action which made him shut up as he followed your hands quickly. "What are you-" Once in your grip, you chucked the substance into the pool, making it impossible to smoke again. "What the hell Y/n!"

When you stood, so did he. "Please, just go to bed." You advised him. Though, you highly doubted he would listen. You never did.

"You're not my mother!" His voice rose.

And you didn't step down, "No, but I'm sure she'd tell you the same thing." You took a breath to fight off the fury that was bubbling within the pit of your stomach. "If you can't go the rest of tonight without smoking the rest of that joint, then maybe accept you've got a dependency problem."

He scoffed as he took a step closer. "You can say all you want, I'll just call you what you are: Hypocrite." His tone was laced in more than just a snappy manner, now it was toxic, it wasn't a tone you ever saw Conrad use and it pained your heart to have it aimed at yourself.

You sucked up the tears that were brimming at your eyelids and made your last statement of the night, "What have you turned into?" You left him with that, turning your back before he could spit any more insults your way, making a B-line for your room again.

There, you let the tears fall. You wondered yourself, who had replaced the gentleman, sweet boy you once knew? You wondered if he was okay, if he would go back to normal? Truth being, you couldn't be sure. The year before, Conrad asked himself the same things. You had been just as angry, just as snappy, with a bad temper that could blow at any given moment. It was like living with weights on your back that tired you into a shell of a person until you felt utterly transparent in this world.

You didn't much talk to Conrad after that encounter. To be fair, Conrad hadn't really been talking to anyone other than the odd grunt if you were lucky. It wasn't until Belly's birthday when things got shaky again. This year, the birthday girl had taken the decision for everyone to go to Nicole's party. Nicole who also happened to be Conrad's not-girlfriend.

As much as you lied to yourself, being in her home felt wrong. Being on her territory knowing what Conrad had done two nights prior. The lingering ghost of his lips had never felt more prominent than right in that moment as you stepped foot into her house. You felt guilty being there. And not just because of the kiss, but because you had been yearning for Conrad to kiss you for a long time now. You just hated the fact such a big moment was ruined by the stench of weed on his mouth that soon caught onto your own.

Steven budged your shoulder, "You alright?" He asked, a sweet smile hanging from his lips, breaking you from the oblivious stare you had been making.

You nodded forcefully, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Steven wasn't convinced but a feminine voice broke him from his concern, "Steven!" His head spun around and his lips twisted even further upright like a Cheshire cat.

"Shayla." And like that, the boy was gone.

With a sigh, you followed in Taylor's footsteps to get a drink. She filled herself a cup of some red beverage and then grabbed one for you too. She huffed and you watched as her eyebrows raised, "Well look how quickly we've been forgotten." You would have been annoyed if she hadn't been right. Belly had left her for Nicole as had Conrad left you for her too.

You raised your red solo cup, "Cheers to that." Your tone was flat but Taylor clinked your cup anyway.

You weren't sure what the night had planned, but you could tell something was brewing.

Three or four hours later, a good few drinks down (you had lost count) and you were on the hunt for another one. The night was still lively, music blaring through the house, struggling against the volume of eccentric, drunk teenagers. When you reached the kitchen, you became hungry for something that wasn't tequila and juice. Thinking the kitchen was empty, you waltzed in. Only then to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you were avoiding.

You came to an abrupt stop as your gaze clung to one another. He was leant against one of the counters, his own glass in his hand, so casual in his checkered shirt and wavy hair. A thousand pictures ran through your head. You almost became nervous that Conrad could see you replaying that kiss in your mind. It was all you had been able to think about all night with the booze and having him dancing around you all night.

It took resilience for you to tear your eyes from him as you continued around the kitchen, searching the cupboards for something that suited your tastes better. It took a minute of you shuffling through cereal boxes and plates before Conrad spoke up. "Top right." He nodded to the cupboard he was talking about and you dared to catch a glimpse of him.

You nodded and pushed yourself from the floor to your tip toes as you opened the cupboard. A selection faced you of liquors and beers. You took the bottle of your choice and poured it into your red solo cup. Conrad didn't let his eyes leave you. "You're not gonna say anything this time?" He pushed.

You thought about whether it was best to reply or whether he was just picking another argument. "Why? So you can yell at me?" You raised your brow at him, and let your hip fall to lean on the counter as you faced Conrad, a good three meters between the two of you. But you cut it short, taking a step as your eyes narrowed with your next words, "Or so you can kiss me again?"

As if he were scared of the very word, he stepped from the counter, "Don't-" His finger was lingering towards you as he bit down on his tongue.

"What? Scared your girlfriend's gonna overhear it?"

"She's not- my girlfriend." He almost couldn't say it. "I didn't mean to do that." Once again, you found you lied to yourself thinking you weren't hurt by that fact.

You swallowed that pain and looked him right in the eye, "I'm not gonna argue with you if that's what you want. But, if you ever just want to talk, you know where I am."

You stared at him, waiting, willing, for him to say something. To do as you had offered and talk to you like a human being, to open up about whatever was driving him to make all these reckless decisions. The moment fell and you realised he wasn't going to say anything. You accepted it and went to leave, "Okay, I'll see you around Conrad." Said so disinterested.

You were almost out the door when his voice stopped you again, "Wait." It was hesitant but, somehow it was sure it was the right decision to make. When you met his eyes, they were like a child's. Somehow filled once more with innocence, but mostly, desperation. "I don't wanna talk, I just-" His gaze flickered to the floor for a second. "I just want you to be there...please." This time, he was the one on the edge of tears.

Once that left his mouth, you were in front of him, taking him into your embrace. He had never hung on so tightly to you like he didn't dare let go like you were keeping him afloat. Partway through the hug, you heard him sniffle, causing you to rub his back. "It's okay," You soothed. "It's okay."

"Conrad?" The voice cut through your's and Conrad's bubble like a blade.

You spilt from one another, turning to the doorway to find Nicole standing there. There was a familiar look on her face; the same one you had been wearing all night. You could only imagine what she must have been thinking.

Nicole left, taking half the girls with her. And, not long after, so did you and Conrad. Maybe you were drunk and he was drunk, or high, or both, but it didn't matter. He had let that shell open only slightly and because he had asked for you to be there, you would be. That night, you found yourself in his bed, soothing him as he fell asleep in the crook of your neck. It pained you to see him with the same habits you had once plagued yourself with. And, as tonight had shown, it had only gained him consequences. Ones of which you would worry about another day. For now, you would be there for him.

[stayconnecteed]

han jisung drabble    —   993 words !

17 : 29⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it had been hard not to fall in love with han jisung. you'd been trying for months, your lips curving into smiles that were never quite fake enough, your fingers sliding between his when they should have stayed in your pocket, his eyes meeting yours in a thousand and one places where you should have been looking at something else. it had been hard, and maybe you hadn't tried at all because deep down what you wanted most was that free fall, your heart beating with the chaotic, accelerated rhythm of someone in love, your cheeks turning red for no reason, and that bright aura that showered over you every time he pronounced your name.

but it was monday, the day he had rehearsal with his band, and you had left the gym early so you could go see him, your damp hair wetting the cushioned back of the chair, the ends curling up because they were already drying. he hadn't seen you, but you had seen him, and you could only admire the relaxed way his fingers caressed the strings of his guitar, the rumbling sound on the amplifier accompanying his voice as an eager puppy follows its owner, and the way he pronounced each word of the song's lyrics painting emotions in your chest. when you saw him enjoying the music it was like watching him dreaming with birds in his throat, the curve of a fa clef illuminating his lips with satisfaction.

and then the pianist had stopped the vision that was jisung on stage, announcing in a thick accent that it had gone perfectly, that he didn't think they needed to rehearse much more, though they would still see each other again the following monday. and your boy had looked to where he knew you would be waiting for him, his eyes like crescent moons, his smile drawing a heart between his cheeks, a crooked and irregular one, but one that belonged only to you. he had hurried to pack up, putting the electric guitar away with the rest of the instruments but hanging the strap of his acoustic guitar around his chest, meeting you at the door, with the same devotion with which his hand had met yours as soon as he had you near him.

because since you'd met him, all your mondays had been just as warm. because once you'd walked outside, your hands hanging intertwined in the sweet almond shape that formed the void between your bodies as you told him how your day had gone, his words crowding into his mouth as he tried to explain what he'd done in the morning, everything was blue and home, like dancing barefoot on the beach and the burst of strawberry flavor on a vacation afternoon. it was april, and you could feel summer at your fingertips, close enough to breathe a sigh of relief, but desperately far enough away to feel nostalgic for the one before.

in those moments of enamored reassurance that you had tried so hard to avoid then, you were lost now, his laughter sliding across your shoulders, your lips on his, silences of whispers and sighs that belonged to the both of you as you wandered to the nearest convenience store. and the contrast between the palm of his hand, warm against your skin, and the refreshing coolness you felt once he rested it again after taking the glass of cold ice tea from the freezer at the back of the store, the condensed drops of melting ice trapped between his fingers and your hip, were a reminder of what happened when no one was looking.

and then you stood in line to pay, as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his mouth forming monologues of incoherent worship against your neck, you found yourself unable to untangle his arms from your waist, the elderly store owner gazing lovingly at you. and then, as he drank and coated his upper lip without knowing it, the way his skin took on an instant crimson when you took his face in your hands, cheeks rough against your palms from not having shaved in a few days, you kissed the tea away. and then, as he babbled an excuse for the blushing mess he had become, he offered to share his earbuds until you reached the spot in the park where you always cuddled.

later he would offer his oversized hoodie as a blanket, your dress slipping up your thighs as you sat down, his legs folded under yours, and he would rest a hand on your bare skin while you picked up his guitar, ready to show him how much you had practiced the four chords he had taught you the week before. and you didn't see the way he looked at you, big brown eyes containing the universe in his pupils, lovesick smile, his heart on the verge of insanity, utterly devoted to you, but it was the same way your gaze fell on him when you asked him to play for you a song and he started ripping notes from the strings with an almost painful softness, concentrating on the rhythm, drowning in words that didn't exist to show you how much he loved you.

it had been hard not to fall in love with han jisung, but you hadn't even tried. as long as the birds sang wind songs about you two, as long as you were willing to peel oranges for him even if he didn't ask you to, as long as your memories were poetry and guitars and brief glances, then you'd never forget each other. because then you could smile freely, hold his hand without fear and look at him as much as you wanted to. it was a monday after five in the afternoon and you were awash in music, enjoying the kind of love that only happens once in a lifetime and obsessed with each other.

© stayconnecteed 2024 · do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[gisellelx]

Drying Up

(~2,000 words)

The smell of drying paint was still fresh, sharp and chemical and both refreshing and noisome at once. Benjamin Moore’s Sundance, his mother had told him, a pale but somehow rich yellow. A classic choice when you were painting a room for a grandchild whose gender was unknown. The crib was here, too, now, and Edward suspected from the stray thoughts Esme seemed to be keeping from him that there was much more stashed away—bought in fits of her relentless optimism even as the rest of them had panicked. 

He was fingering the crib sheet, his fingers taking note of the soft jersey fabric and the stiff plastic texture of the mattress protector underneath, when the door to the cottage opened and a blast of unusually humid early fall air hit him. On it rode another scent: rich, earth, spice. The scent he’d known first as a vampire. The footsteps came only a short way over the threshold and then stopped, the slightly disjointed thought following quickly thereafter. 

Intruding…

It made sense. Even with all the space he had always been granted, the freedom to stay or go, to bring on his self destruction if he chose to, to return and be held and welcomed…the homes had never been his. Never before had the threshold of a door leading outside belonged only to Edward. 

That his father had stopped was so very characteristic of him.

“You can come in, Carlisle,” he said. 

At once, he was no longer alone in the room. After so many years, Carlisle’s senses felt like an extension of his own, and so Edward took in again the pant color, the delicate curvature of the wrought-iron crib, the plushness of the rug under their feet. Then came the emotions: surprise and pleasure and suddenly, a self-deprecating bashfulness.

Edward raised his eyebrows. 

“You’d think after eighty-five years I’d know not to doubt her,” Carlisle said, chuckling. When Edward said nothing, he added, “She wanted to do this as soon as you came home. I thought…” 

The terrible outcome flashed in Carlisle’s head for a moment, quickly shut down but not before Edward could see the whole thing play out. The funeral. The move. The cover story. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlisle muttered. 

A head shake. He hadn’t been wrong. Edward had worried all the same things, to such a greater depth. Bella’s life slipping from her and with it their child’s, and with that, surely his own. For a brief moment he was grateful that his father couldn’t read his mind, that he would not see how fervently focused Edward had been on the same self-destructive intent that had so tortured his parents scant months before. 

And yet his mother had ignored all that and had gone on what he felt sure had been a frantic spree of catalog and internet ordering, of trips to the True Value on the 101, to what must have been side excursions to Olympia and Seattle and perhaps even LA? She had been gone for a full forty hours at one point five days ago.

“Her optimism is so irritating,” Edward said under his breath, and his father guffawed. 

“It is, isn’t it?” A hand came to his shoulder. “And then on top of that she has to go and be right.” 

This time, they both laughed. 

Carlisle’s hand was as reassuring as it ever had been, and Edward let himself get lost for a moment in the breaths at his side. The same sound that had met him as he sat, internally panicking, four days ago, as his rational brain told him that yes, he’d made it in time, that yes, his wife’s heart was still beating. He had wanted to believe it, but he hadn’t been able to allow himself to until his father had returned.

He played that moment back now in his mind. Alice, his confidante, and his brothers–they had never held an infant and so within a few short hours he had grown accustomed to only handing the baby to Rosalie. He’d managed, therefore, to forget the centuries of birthing beds to which his father had attended, and so it had seemed strange, the utter naturalness with which Carlisle’s right hand had supported the tiny cervical spine and guided the rest of the stumpy body into the crook of his arm. So utterly fluid, as though holding his granddaughter was an everyday thing. 

That the cottage was out earshot of the main house had been the whole point in the first place, but Edward found himself anxiously searching the fleeting, minutes-old memories at the edges of Carlisle’s mind, reassuring himself that his daughter was still napping; that his wife and his sisters were still mapping out the latest round of “normal kid” photo album fakes; that Jacob Black was still standing sentinel at the back door. His father’s footsteps, descending from the back porch, carrying him lightly across the forest floor, both following Edward’s scent but also his own surety of where his son had gone, because he was on an errand…

Edward looked down to Carlisle’s other hand, now realizing this wasn’t merely an idle visit. “What is that?” 

Carlisle looked at him guiltily and held out his right hand. In it was a pile of fur which at first Edward took to be some small animal, but realized at once it couldn’t be for the scent, and then realized that no, it was a small animal but not the kind he thought. He took it from Carlisle, holding it up for inspection. The beaded eyes were slightly loose, one string of the smile had gone loopy as well, giving it a lopsided expression. Its body was jointed, the legs splayed at a strange angle, and he instinctively patted one of the arms back so that it matched its partner. The scents it carried with it were old: sawdust; long rancid cookie crumbs; a few flecks of dirt. An antique, he was sure. 

“Where did you get this?” 

His father shrugged. “Your attic.” 

His attic? Edward’s eyes cast upward, and he frowned.

“Not here,” Carlisle answered, his smile gentle. “The Chicago house.” 

Even at his full, vampiric processing speed, it took Edward a moment to understand. He ran his hand over the head of the bear, feeling the brittle, aged fur under the tips of his fingers. His brow furrowed. 

“How long have you had this?” he murmured.

His father coughed lightly. Nineteen twenty-five.  

Edward turned the bear over in his hands. Its scent was unfamiliar; its texture, too. Like so many things, it seemed whatever wisps of his memory existed for this remained almost completely obscured, and when he tried to grasp them more firmly, they scurried away into oblivion once more.  He ran his hand over the head, gripping it, knowing his hand was now too large to remember what it must have felt to hold this toy, but trying anyway.

And abruptly, the memories came. The corduroy paw, clutched in a small hand; the bear dangling from the fist of a copper-haired boy, hitting him at his bare knees between the hem of his shorts and the white socks pulled smartly up small calves. Sitting sentinel, staring over the bath, fur slightly dark from where it had endured some exuberant splashing, a gleefully naked boy giggling over the proliferation of bubbles. The fake fur, tangled with bits of tree bark and the pungent smell of sap, stuffed in its owner’s shirt as long arms and spindly legs spidered their way up a young birch. The bear, dressed up as a navy soldier; the boy taking aim with a toy gun over the back of a delicate sofa.Tucked in beside its owner, his face barely visible above the quilt, his cheeks full as his hair spilled over a flat pillow. 

A hand reached out. Adjusted the blanket over the boy’s shoulders. Stroked the unruly copper hair. Repositioned the bear so that it nestled more carefully under the small chin. Found its way to the boy’s back, stroking it. With it, a deep sense of satisfaction and pleasure as the hand’s owner watched the boy nestle into even deeper sleep. And beneath it all, there was a longing, searing sharpness of regret; a raw, stomach-churning grief for the boy and his bear and these lost times… 

“Carlisle…” was all Edward could manage, and what he knew now were not his memories abruptly disappeared. 

I’m sorry, came the mental voice, which, after a century, was almost as clear as his own. I didn’t mean to…

“This is why I didn’t know you had this,” Edward whispered. “Because you couldn’t endure these thoughts.” 

His father’s eyes closed as he nodded. And then Edward was seeing again the same image he himself had thought of, what–fewer than ten minutes ago? His father’s hand, splaying beneath his daughter’s neck, except that her face was different; her eyes much paler, the chin the same shape he saw in the mirror. 

It made sense, suddenly. For Rosalie, these sorts of thoughts came almost daily–the chubby baby boy with Emmett’s dimples and his curly dark hair. Esme’s were less frequent and more scattered; sometimes the older boy, a strange mix of her actual husband and Carlisle. Every now and then not her son at all, but other children–the family she had daydreamed of making some day with the handsome doctor she’d met as a teenager. Alice, who remembered nothing of her human life, never thought of children, but Jasper sometimes did: a girl with Alice’s dark hair in a single braid down her back beneath a wide brimmed hat as she sat astride a dappled gelding. 

But Carlisle’s thoughts of this nature had always been rare and when they did come, they seemed guarded; the face of the child obscured, the images fleeting. Sometimes, Edward had caught the edge of a nickname, the meaning of which was abruptly clear as day…

“Spaghetti,” he murmured. “It’s a rhyme.” 

The boy and the bear reappeared, the boy’s eyes casting from side to side anxiously even as a smile played on his lips. And then suddenly there was a thud of two heavy feet jumping out of the shadows and the roar of a grown man’s voice. The boy dissolved into shrieking giggles and took off running, the bear tagging beside him in one hand, slowing him down so that the man could catch up to him. The strong arms coming around the small waist and pulling the boy into the air. 

“I caught you, Eddie Spaghetti,” came the deep voice. “I caught you!” 

The boy kicked and shrieked and laughed, and the man laughed even more heartily. Edward pulled the bear to his chest with one hand as the thoughts faded back to the nursery. 

“It’s me,” he said, dumbly after a moment. “It’s always been…me.” 

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Edward heard the wet sound of the reluctant gulp as his father nodded. 

“Anyway.” Carlisle gestured to the crib and his voice was suddenly cool and professional. “The AAP would suggest you shouldn’t put it in there until we feel like she’s about whatever is going to be the equivalent of a year.” But she can play with it when she’s awake.

It was something Edward had inherited; this tendency to get clinical when he was on the edge of something overwhelming. The bear still clutched in his fist, he flung his arms around Carlisle, and took a deep, steadying breath. A moment later the embrace was returned, his father’s strong hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Thanks, Carlisle.” 

Just don’t waste this time, came the forceful thought, and then they were back in the imaginings so rich and detailed they felt like memories. Edward let his own thoughts wind around Carlisle’s. The copper-haired baby girl blended with the copper-haired baby boy. Bathtimes imagined, both ones in the past, and ones yet in the future. Toys from the turns of two centuries, expressions of wondering glee on two so-similar faces. 

Edward nodded. “I won’t waste it. I promise.” 

He placed the bear in the corner of the crib, and allowed his father’s arm to come over his shoulder once more. And together, they stood there in the brilliantly yellow nursery, just the two of them, together contemplating the wonder of two childhoods: the one lost forever to them both, and the one before them to behold.

Montage masterpost

[dimorphodon-x]

Force of Habit

In which Starfall ends up on the Lost Light and life is finally looking up for him.

But certain habits die hard.

--

--

Perhaps it was a good thing Starhawk didn’t remember him.

It meant that he was comfortable around him, unaware of things that happened in the not too distant past. It was… refreshing, Starfall decided.

In fact, everything was refreshing.

Just a few short months ago, Starfall was a Decepticon prisoner, a slave under the terrifying Corvalis. But now he was here, aboard a ship called the Lost Light, surrounded by (mostly) Autobots, and regained the badge that had been clawed off of his chest years ago.

He’d also been getting help with frequent visits to the ship’s therapist, Rung. Things were seemingly starting to look up for once in his life.

“Pardon?” Starfall blinked as he was pulled from his thoughts. Starhawk gave him a wide, friendly smile.

“I said I got you a surprise,” the obsidian flier repeated, biolights pulsing excitedly, “it’s in your room.”

“My room…” It was still surreal to think Fall had a room of his own now. A place for himself, that wasn’t a prison.

“Mhm,” Hawk’s wings fluttered, catching Starfall’s attention. Starhawk had such long, shiny wings. From the brilliant gleam in his iridescent paint job, it was obvious that he took great care in polishing his wings and armor to perfection.

Starfall’s wheels spun in his back as he stared at his once-brother’s stunning wings, how the light bounced off of them, how they were carefully held against his back to avoid bumping into things, how they oh so barely twitched and fluttered as he talked. Only another Star Seeker would notice such minuscule expressions.

Starfall missed his wings.

The wheels that were crammed into his frame after his wings were torn from his back felt unnatural, but they’ve been there for so long, he could barely recall how it felt when he flew for the first time. But most memories of flight weren’t his to begin with, so maybe that was another’s memory anyway.

Starfall hadn’t stolen a memory in a long while. He had only done so as a prisoner, and had only ever attacked Decepticons. He was pretty sure the memories he stole helped keep him sane. But he couldn’t do that to an Autobot, let alone a fellow Star Seeker. They were already so hard to come by.

But… surely Hawk would be ok with… one or two missing memories. Small ones, unimportant to him. Fall had poked and prodded at his brain twice before, it would be easy to do again. He still bore the tiny unseen scars, too, meaning that nobody else seemed to notice them.

Starfall licked his lips as he glanced down the empty hall. He couldn’t hear anyone behind either, and they were almost to his quarters. His fingers twitched impatiently and his wheels spun.

Starhawk was still distracted, talking about who knows what as the two stopped in front of Fall’s door. The mnemosurgeon simply couldn’t wait any longer.

“-and then Whirl went in guns blazing and-hh!?” Air was sucked into Hawk’s vents as a set of needles quickly yet perfectly slid into the back of his neck. His eyes widened in surprise and confusion as he wordlessly glanced at the slightly shorter mech standing behind his shoulder.

“Shh,” Starfall’s mismatched optics flashed wildly and his lips twitched as he smiled, “I’ll be quick.”

Hawk’s eyes widened further and his mouth opened. Fall could tell he was starting to grasp what was going on. But that was ok, because he wouldn’t remember this.

Starfall chewed on his lip as he quickly found a few small memories of flight. They weren’t anything special, just a few short joyrides with friends. He had many better memories than these little things.

The wheels on the orange mech’s back spun faster as he sighed in satisfaction, the itch finally ebbing as he replayed the newly acquired memories in his mind and removed his needles from Hawk’s lifecord.

Starhawk slumped forward, eyes dim and lights flickering. Starfall gave the hallway another quick look around to make sure things were clear before quickly retreating into his room, leaving his brother standing in the hall. He’d be back to normal in a few minutes, none the wiser, if only a little confused. Nothing to worry about.

Starfall sat down on the edge of his berth, engine purring happily as he continued to replay the stolen memories while they were still fresh. After a few hours, they started to lose their effect, so he decided to stop for now to save for later. Fall’s smile faltered and he opened his eyes, staring silently at the door.

Right, Starhawk had gotten him a gift.

Fall glanced around his room. He had no possessions of his own, so he quickly spotted the datapad on the desk next to the window and retrieved it. Maybe Hawk had downloaded a few games or something into it so he could entertain himself.

He flicked the screen on and blinked, surprised to find a medical document. Curious, the orange mech skimmed through the writing, eyes widening as dread and horror started to sink in.

It was an offer to try to restore his wings. 

The datapad slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor. He couldn’t accept this. Not after that. He didn’t deserve his wings anymore.

‘What have I done?’

[colemacgrathtkz]

Fellowship of the Hexoleos

Previous Next

[The Boiling Isles, a week after Drift away]

Luz was sulking around the old Hexsquad stomping grounds. She kept her distance from everyone. Her regrets about her mother, and everyone chipped away at her usual silly self.

Willow: "I challenge you to a witch's battle."

Turning her head, she saw Augustus and Willow posing defiantly.

Gus: "What battle to the death do you have in mind, o great one?"

Willow: "No one's dying this time either, Augustus."

Gus: "Not with that attitude."

Luz(smiling fondly): "It's 'I challenge you to a witch's duel', not 'witch's battle'."

Her cherry self was quickly drowned out by the memories of what had happened since they last met.

Luz: "You've been talking to Amity."

Willow: "I do work for her now."

Her friend approached her without any signs of caution.

Gus was a bit more hesitant about getting closer.

Gus: "There's that attitude."

Willow: "We've got business with you. You're coming with us to a place of drama, flair, and face paint."

A smile crept up on Noceda's face. It was pretty refreshing to see someone so relaxed around her. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Luz( suspicious): "You should be terrified."

Willow: "Things have been weird."

Gus: "And terrifying, for sure."

Willow: "But we do still have our fun memories with you. And they're reason enough not to give up on you. Even if Augustus doesn't trust you, just yet."

Augustus: "Willow!

Ahem, even I have to admit, you didn't give up on getting back to us. Luz, the human, never gave up on her friends."

Eda: "Us weirdos have to stick together."

Luz turned to see her old mentor had snuck up on her.

Eda: From one cursed witch to another, you've got to let them help."

A warm feeling started to swell within the young girl. She sniffed back her tears.

However, she felt something land on her back. As she turned her head, a small paw met her check.

King: "Boop."

The creature's claw began to wipe stray tears that had escaped.

Luz: "Hey, buddy."

They nestled their heads against each other's, for a brief moment. Then King returned to Eda's side.

In that time, the empress appeared once again as a hallucination.

Empress: "This seems forced. They're up to something."

Before Luz could entertain those doubts, Willow wrapped up one human in thorny vines.

Willow: " Don't get the wrong idea. We did come to challenge you, after all."

Clover and Emmiline Bailey Marcostimo crawled out from behind their respective witches.

Luz: "Whoa, when did that happen?!"

The young witches summoned their staffs and flew circles around her. Willow halted right in front of the astonished latina.

Willow: "You know about flyer derby?"

Luz couldn't quite recall watching that magic sport.

Willow: "Nothing a little team spirit and a training montage can't solve, right?"

Gus: "Just to be clear, we won't be on your team."

Willow: "But you've got until tomorrow to figure all that out."

Her friends began to take their leave. But Luz had definitely noticed the absence of a certain someone.

Luz: "So, do any of you think there's a chance Amity would...?"

She didn't even finish her sentence. The hallucination hadn't disappeared just yet. The empress shook her head, visible only to Luz.

Eda: "The owl beast caused a lot of trouble and hurt people I care about, too. Bossy boots just needs a bit more time."

The owl lady sent a hand straight for Luz's shoulder.

Eda: "Just give her some space. You and your adorably sick antics snuck into her heart, after all."

King: "It feels like just a few months ago, you had us locked up after we captured you. "

Gus: "That was a few months ago."

Willow: "So, don't think that means we're finished with you."

With that, her friends and mentor flew off into the sky.

All Luz heard was, "we're not giving up on you".

Now, all she needed was to learn an entire magic sport and assemble a team by tomorrow. No biggie.

After freeing herself, she healed the few layers of skin cut by the thorns.

Luz: "Wait, I've been gone for how long?!"

Luz had "Belos" arrange for the younger scouts to participate on her team.

[The next day, Hexside flyer derby field]

Willow( as captain) had Gus, Skara, Viney, and someone she didn't recognize.

The match went about as expected. Willow may be Amity's right hand. But she always made time for her real passion.

In the past, Gus partook in Willow's games. The two supported each other, even after Luz's banishment. He gained a lot of experience with his own style of flying.

Skara worked as a student teacher at Hexside. Skara was a fast learner, which didn't hurt her teaching skills.

Viney's healing magic permitted any mistake around her to come at a small price. Almost everyone on Willow's team was familiar with trail and error. Just like how all of Hexside were familiar with their results, both on and off the field.

The new guy was very obvious in his hatred towards Luz. Practically, all his plays were focused on her. He kept threatening to force her into the boiling sea.

She just assumed he was someone affected by the tyranny of the empress.

There was one thing that stood out to her. The need for a staff to fly on.

Empress: "This is clearly a ruse to bring it out for them."

Luz: "A scheme? A plot?"

She actually laughed for the first time since...

Luz: "Good old shenanigans."

She brought a staff that looked an awful lot like the real thing. With it, she was able to soar alongside her own team. But she was still very much in the underdog position.

Despite losing the game, Luz hadn't felt that good in a long time.

Luz: "Not bad for someone who just started playing."

Willow: "But pretty embarrassing for someone who claims to be empress of the isles."

Gus: "I guess all the magic of Isles doesn't make up for pure skill and raw talent."

Her friends lighthearted teasing was brought her guard down.

That is, of course, until she noticed the eyes of Augustus were locked on to her staff.

Gus: "Is that the genuine article?"

Luz scoffed at inquiry.

Luz: "You think we'd be crazy enough to bring it out for a game?"

Willow: "That depends? Would you hand it over?"

She extended out her hand. Luz contemplated how to play this.

Willow Park retracted her hand and combed her hair back.

Willow: "Too slow."

Amity(?): "I see you're enjoying yourselves.'

The trio noticed Amity's approach. Except, she was wearing that little demon creature that was usually on Bump's head.

Luz: "Amity?"

Amity: "Not quite. As part of the agreement with the New Coven's request, Amity Blight will assist in matters of the school."

Willow: "Basically, she's going to have more work on her plate. We'll both be busier than usual."

Luz: "That's my awesome girlfriend for ya.

Please tell her I said that."

Bump(?) turned to leave.

Bump: "I am here for the students of Hexside, Ms. Noceda."

Gus followed to get their team a proper victory celebration.

Willow decided to hang back for a second.

Luz(whispering): "I knew that thing on his head was the real principal Bump. If that little guy is Bump, then who's been the old man underneath him?"

Willow chuckled at the small ruse around Frewin. More and more, Luz's shortcomings were becoming apparent. In these last few months, she had missed out on a lot.

Willow: "I'm sure Amity will get your message."

Luz looked down at the empress staff.

Willow: "Don't worry. I'm sure you two will talk again soon. Don't forget, she did stick her neck out for you."

Luz: "I know she tried to smooth things over when I got back."

Willow: " I'm not talking about before you turned the tables on us."

A small version of Luz's grom tree was conjured up.

Willow: "I've been the reliable one for so long. It made sense for me to be where I am now. Especially since my boss was missing her girlfriend so badly. Even after sending you away, I don't think she ever lost how she felt about you.

And now, after that stunt you pulled, I was sure that was the last straw. You hurt all of us. That's the truth.

But I asked for her opinion on how to get your attention. And we talked about getting my friend back. She even proposed the offer with Bump to let us use the field.

All that extra work for one game."

Luz: "And how are we supposed to get our friends back?"

Willow smiled as she petted Clover's head.

Willow: "By seeing who they really are."

With that, Park began her ascent on her staff.

Willow: "It's was fun. Remembering how things used to be. I mean, there's one thing that hasn't changed."

Willow wasn't going to worry about whether Luz heard this last part.

Willow: "She's still trying to protect you."

Author's note:

I know Frewin isn't actually Principal Bump.

[lex-n-weegie]

Its like 3 AM but shhhh I felt the sudden urge to ramble about my version of Glamrock Bonnie soooo

Under the cut cause long and rambly and worldbuild-y lol

Okay so as a quiiick refresher, here's my version of the dude (old art grahhhhh)

(Yes I got a special version of Foxy too called Captain Foxy but that'll be for a different post maybe xvkanxka)

Okay okay before I fully talk about Bonnie I gotta talk about the Pizzaplex itself. Monty was around before Bonnie was decommissioned, he was a special animatronic for the golf course attraction, made as a sort of "experiment" on adding more special animatronics for different areas. He worked well, and it let to DJMM and The DA to be made soon after. Monty and Bonnie were buds, but Monty got along pretty well with all of the main four. He fit well within their dynamic, even the workers could see that. And if course, Freddy and Bonnie were the absolute best of friends, the dynamic duo. The bear and bunny.

However, Bonnie had some chronic issue: he simply didn't care much for rules. He'd follow most of them of course, like don't bite the children, but for others(such as stay in your greenroom after-hours) he'd ignore them if he simply felt the urge to. He was really laid back, maybe even too much so sometimes. He didn't care about how much the workers would scold him about it, nothing bad ever happened so what was the harm? They weren't his dad, they couldn't tell him and the gang what to do. Eventually the others followed his example, leaving their rooms at night, cause the workers couldn't do much in terms of retaliation when it came to the main four. Just empty threats it seemed.

Sometimes it was a good thing, breaking that particular rule, as it let Bonnie be the first to kind of "meet" Hazel.

Ramble about Hazel(can probably be skipped): Hazel was originally going to be a bare, boring animatronic, made to help with freelancing costs by simply being a Jack of all trades when it came to art. Painting, sculpting, construction, repair, even mechanical engineering, put in as a just in case if a Glamrock needed attention and no one else was available. However the first person who worked on them made them look heavily like an old Fredbear's character, one that existed for an extremely short time, a golden bear with heterochromia named Daisy(the worker found some old remnants of posters with her in them). The company however, freaked out when they saw that, as they wanted zero trace of Daisy in anything they did, so they fired them and asked someone else to "fix it." That resulted in his brown fur and poofy dark brown hair. They also programmed him with a more quiet, almost shy esque personality to hopefully avoid any rampages with his extreme strength(it was needed in order to do all the construction they wanted). All of this is just a long winded way of saying that due to unique circumstances, she stood out among all the other staff bots. Also fun fact! He wasn't called Hazel at this point, just referred to as "Bear."

All bots were ordered into their rooms, again, and told that something in Rockstar Row broke and someone would be fixing, "Do not speak to them under any circumstances." "Bear(Aka Hazel)" was told the same, don't talk to any of the Glamrocks. Bonnie of course, being Bonnie, ignored the orders and went out to say hi. Bear originally didn't want to respond, but ended up chatting a bit when Bonnie asked what exactly they were fixing. He actually first put the idea in his head to do other things than what he's told or programmed to do, even if he didn't follow that until much later.

Other times however, leaving his room didn't end so good.

It had been a good couple months, possibly half a year since "Bear" and Bonnie talked, Monty was having a particularly bad day. Monty wasn't a Glamrock, so he was "lesser priority" and often treated badly. He wasn't the only one, any animatronic that wasn't part of the main four was treated like garbage("fun" fact again, at this point in the timeline "Bear" had been locked away in an old room for a couple of months, forgotten about and honestly expected to lose power). Sometimes, unfortunately, Monty would take out his anger on the others. Never physically mind you, but he stilled yelled and snapped.

There was one time he was slightly physical though.

That night was a bad night, and Bonnie left his greenroom to go to Gator Golf, Monty's "room," to talk to him about it. He was up on the rafters, and he tried to talk to them about it. They were being pissy though, refusing to talk about his feelings and anger. Through his anger, he shoved Bonnie away him, only intending to get some space when he put his hand on his shoulder. Instead, he slammed again the guard rail, it snapped, and Bonnie plummeted to the floor. Similar to the game, he hit a pole on the way down, severing his top and bottom half of his body, but he did also break from other stuff.

That would have been fine, fixable even, but unfortunately the top half landed into one of the many ponds Gator Golf had going around. Normally, they all were waterproof, but when their circuits were exposed...yeah.

Monty was soon quickly made to replace the bunny, and they went to dump the box of him and his parts they gathered into some random room in the basement. Instead, a worker accidentally found "Bear," still on and drawing brand new concepts and things they weren't asked to. It eventually led to them becoming a new attraction, Bonnie being left in that room she was in to rot.

A year and a half later, a bunch of stuff happened with "The Gang"(Freddy, Chica, Roxy, Monty, and Hazel), but the main thing was that they all had found out they were given "birthdays"(only the main four got them, Hazel wasn't given one). Not exactly the days they were made, but when their characters were born. Hazel immediately set out to make the best gifts ever for all of her friends(her and Monty weren't a thing at this point, just dumb crushes). Freddy's was the farthest, being just the month before they learned all this, so Hazel had a whole year essentially to figure something out for him. And she absolutely stumped him. Chica, Monty, hell even Roxy was easy, but Freddy they couldn't think of anything.

And desperate for any ideas, and figuring maybe some of her old doodle paper from years back could still be in there, she sought out the old room she used to "sleep" in. She found no papers, but that box they brought in the same day she was brought out was still there. Now with more free will, they willingly let curiosity win and peeked inside. Bam! The old parts of Bonnie! Not only was part of her actually furious that Bonnie was essentially, put through the same thing she was put through, but it fueled her to rebuild the guy best she could, as she still had everyone's blueprints in her memory.

At first she gets the head working, and from there they chat while she fixes the rest of him. Unfortunately, due to untreated water damage(being allowed to soak in), some parts couldn't be salvaged and needed to be replaced. Mostly motors, but also his memory card. She saved as much as it as he could, but it still resulted in him "forgetting" memories and skills, such as playing the base and the scattered memories from before. Good enough for him though, he could relearn it if he wanted(or have Hazel program the knowledge back in), and he can make new memories with the gang. With her fixing him up and the time they spend together afterwards, he develops a little crush on her, similar to Monty.

After he's fully fixed and revealed to be at Freddy's "birthday," he stays in the basement during the day for a month or so, at least until Vanessa and Mason(BF's s/i) can come up with a reasonable excuse and a convincing lie about how they fixed him, all outside of company time and "for free." Eventually, Glamrock Bonnie was able to come back, simply explained away with "he retired and went on vacation, but now he's back to teach you how to bowl!" He doesn't rejoin the band, he's how similar to how Monty was and what Hazel currently is, a mascot for the bowling alley. Unfortunately it does mean he's treated a similar way to the two(aka treated badly), but it doesn't bug him much cause he's just happy to be back.

As for the selfshipping side of stuff(him and Hazel + how the poly relationship happened), it's sorta a funny story. After Monty got over some guilt and whatnot, the two were quick friends again, and ended up expressing their crushes on "a certain animatronic." Neither wanted to say who, cause they both knew the other would have teased them mercilessly, but they both convinced each other to try and confess.

So naturally, they both end up trying to confess at the same time. And kind of fight over it(they didn't really MEAN to, just kinda happened yk?

Hazel didn't wanna choose, she honestly grew to crush on them both, and eventually yelled at them to snap out of it and "I'll date you both then!! Okay?!" If you've ever read the original Archie comics it's semi like his relationship with those two girls(I forget their names fjsnsj). They both kind of "share" him I guess, lol. As for the two of them, they're not into each other, not romantically at least, but they do have a close and deep bond. They're not a couple, just a couple of besties ♡ dying

[jodilin65]

Earlier this morning, I planned to have a mani-pedi, but the salon was closed. Instead, we visited Treasure Mart during a nice mini thunderstorm, a place we hadn’t been to in many months. We spotted some cute things that caught our eye, but they were a bit pricey, so we decided not to make any purchases. There was a figurine I almost bought; it was nice, but nothing extraordinary. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to get out. We strolled through the aisles of the large store for nearly an hour. Towards the end, I suddenly felt exhausted, realizing I need to be more active to build endurance to avoid getting tired easily. Because of it, he moved the treadmill back into the living room. I just don’t get enough of a workout hitting the road in VR.

Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to visit the salon, and on Thursday, I have a painting class at the clubhouse.

The hammering next door has begun. I’m guessing this is where they start hammering down the borders. I don’t see a truck over there, though, and I didn’t see anyone in back so maybe they’re starting on the other side of the house. Then again, these houses are so damn close that if he was hammering on his exterior living room wall or the exterior wall of the second bedroom, I would hear it in here. I just hope they’re done with whatever they’re doing before I start sleeping in!

We talked about some future activities we want to do. For $65 each we can get taken out on a boat, given a wetsuit, and go snorkeling with manatees. This is at a place an hour north of here.

There’s also a walking trail nearby that might be a fun place to go when we’re bombing the place.

So I called and left a message for them to give to Rhonda about the breathing issues caused by the nitrofurantoin and asked if I could be switched to bactrim or amoxicillin.

OMG, I’m so pissed. I’ll have to finish this later.

Okay, I’m back. The girl who works in the office called telling me to call her back after we agreed she could leave a message. When I called, she said my urine test was negative.

Then why the hell was I given an antibiotic and put at risk of getting a yeast infection if it was negative?

So now I’m waiting for the nurse to call back with more info and I’m going to answer since I know that even though I once again reminded them that they could leave all the detailed messages they want, I’m just gonna be told to call back.

Damn, do I miss Galileo!

Anyway, unless all these doctors are missing something, I’m going to assume that any burning I’ve been feeling is due to menopause. It can be pretty bad from what I was told, and of course, I always have to get it the worst. If I can’t manage to get it under control myself, then I might have to make a GYN appointment.

The honker is trimming the tree between him and Sue. I thought that was something he normally did before he left but if he’s interested in an event at the end of next month, he probably won’t leave until May.

Yesterday his truck never moved at all, which is unusual for him, so I’m guessing he was either picked up or was very sick.

Oh, look at that. Colleen is over there with him now even though her vehicle isn’t there. I’m a little worried that this relationship could cause him to move down here full-time or stay here longer but maybe she’s a snowbird too. I’m now guessing he was over at her place yesterday. It’s only about a five-minute walk over there. What are they going to do, though, unless she too is from his area of Canada? Have a relationship every other 6 months?

[corndoggod]

30 for 30: Not Drinking

I’ve never done dry January for a few reasons. 1) I never even considered it until like three years ago. 2) I like to drink more than most and while I knew I could have a healthier relationship with alcohol, I never saw it as a problem. 3) My birthday is January 16. 

But this year, the year I turned 30, I decided to try it, mostly just because I’d never done it before and 30 seemed like a good moment to challenge myself in this way. Could I be comfortable and sociable without God’s lubricant? 

The following is a catalog of times I was tempted by the devil’s water. 

The Gutter

League bowling was running 30 minutes behind schedule and what was there to do but sit at the bar and order a beer. I sat at the bar. C ordered a seltzer with bitters. It was enough. I was slightly nervous with Daddy because C seemed off and I wanted to attend to her. (I was turned away from her, talking to Daddy). 

I was tempted again during the game. I opened strong - two strikes and a spare - but then I slipped. I got frustrated. I wanted to suck on some foam. But I didn’t. 

Tuesday

Feeling good with C who came home early after her new painting job. A beer just sounded nice. Instead, I cracked a seltzer and read Mike Davis’ City of Quartz in preparation for our journey to Los Angeles. Davis described the city in turns as a battleground between sunshine and noir, a big angry parking lot and a product of boosters and real estate speculators. I calculated that my thirty days of not drinking would expire while we were on vacation in LA, the day after Valentine’s Day. What would I toast to? 

Writing Workshop

I was mildly tempted, or rather, knew I would’ve grabbed beers for Sunday’s workshop reunion in normal times. It’d been seven months since we last met and we felt a bit aimless since no one had work to present. And in that aimlessness, I felt a thirst, something to latch my lips to. I knew the liquid would loosen something inside. I kissed my knuckles and carried on. 

The Whale

I was not tempted in the belly of the whale. C made an Indian feast with three boy sous chefs asking, “What can I do?” every few minutes. And after forty minutes of a million dirty dishes we sat down to saag paneer, daal, coconut chutney, rice, naan and samosas to watch The Whale, a movie about a morbidly obese online English instructor trying to reconnect with his very angry daughter of 17. 

A Long Week of Quiet Quitting 

I took adderall every day except Friday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do a single thing. I had no deadlines, so it wasn’t negligent. But it was definitely irresponsible. Friday was for c and karaoke - my favorite and least favorite things. I’d jabber and jabber but never sing - lips too numb, confidence like a kite in a tornado. 

Bowling

My greatest weakness proved to be poor performances at bowling night. My scores slipped dramatically, halved from a 181 to a 92. I’d spent a lot of time calibrating the optimal blood alcohol levels for peak pin destruction and it was 2-4 beers. And here I was, clean as a whistle throwing gutters. You can’t sip water in frustration and smile after. You can’t go “Ahh, refreshing.” So I had a Bornx Pale Ale - forgetting I don’t really like the taste. But my score improved to 141. 

Slick’s 30th Birthday

Tonight might be the night, I thought to myself. It was miserably cold and it took an hour and two bus transfers to get there. I got in a squabble with C over dinner and I just wanted to go home or ride my bike. If I was going to the bar, I wanted a beer. I’d all but convinced myself, but then came Slick, the birthday boy, a wonder wall of sweaty exuberance. It was midnight now and we’d been in the basement dancing to DJ Preschool -- a white haired man with as many teeth as fingers and he was missing a finger. I closed my eyes and danced. That’s what alcohol does: closes your eyes. But after an hour of that I wanted something more to keep me going. I told C I might get a beer. She offered a gummy instead. I relayed this to N who laughed and told me had c. “Same,” I said and we saluted. 

Then birthday boy Nick bounded up to me. His curly hair was a frizzy halo and I smelled his swea . “Still not drinking, eh? That’s so great man. Really awesome to be out having a a good time and not rely on that. I’m so proud of you.” Little did he know. 

Vacation’s Eve

We’re bound for the capitol of capital on the Pacific Rim, leaving the very same on the Eastern Seaboard. It’s Friday and I’m home biding my time. I volunteered to be the pack mule so C could have dinner with her friend whose birthday we’ll miss. I’m tired but I wanted to write all day. Still, I’d rather read right now. I’d love to read with a beer - something to relax. Instead I tap out a line, three lines and here we go. Can’t wait for the subway and to see her parents. 

I was bored and agitated. Bored because I was reading for the fifth Friday in a row and agitated because of what I was reading: That damn lefty history of L.A. 

Lessons Learned

I learned what it’s like to do c with no alcohol. I felt my face torque, teeth gnash, heart wallop. That awareness felt awful, but it was overpowered by exuberance. 

I learned how often I introduce alcohol to situations. I’ve tended to blame my friends - a bunch of hard-drinking cows, but I too am an instigator. 

I learned drinking can be saved for social things. I didn’t need a beer at the end of a hard day. I could relax in other ways - like cooking or running or stretching or reading or writing in my diary for fun. 

[rosiewildcard-art]

Molten Slice Drive

Driving was something that provided a comfort in those early days, when time could be frittered and our time felt loose, aimless, drawn out. Sitting on the cusp of Spring and change. Awaiting bureaucratic news and scheduled momentum incoming. Driving required me to focus, to attune to the conditions, shadow stitched to the tarmac, the white painted line cutting neatly through the flanks. I used to think of the vehicle shaped shadow eating up the road as we pelted down it on long journeys. We ate up a lot of miles within our first month, covering a complete route from North to South covering both motu of our great nation. Strange wanting to put those words into diction after a life-time of disdain at the pomp and cirque of our warmly departed United Kingdom. Great Nation. Wild. Alive. Here the Commonwealth shadows took up inches less each year and the sky grew taller above my head and I stood taller. The austerity laced anvil around my neck began to shrink. I tasted, despite the conceptual mind-advert of New Zealand from afar, that this was a place the pasty colonials could not break and I was to feel its mightiness press all around me. It would push me around, consuming, pushing all of me through a new doorway, stretching and uncomfortably so. But like birth the pain followed by all that peace felt a single drop amongst a storm. I could speak to Aotearoa and feel alive, not lived upon. Free, and on the road. It all relented to be strange for a while though and only now with the passing of time can I see the endurance dug down to gold.

There was a sense of purpose garnered on the road that I knew in the beginning I would be fraught to find anywhere else and so we drove. Something about watching those median lines and cats eyes rise, slip out from under you and out of sight that felt like cashing strings of pennies at the bank. Never enough at once, but something all the same. Paying it up in my own little way. I could count thousands and not be done. Lone riding on the highways, a roving shepherd, responsible for watching the markings and potholes. For knowing the layers of the horizon even in only shadow. Deep dark nights alone. Dark knights alone? The hills around to rise and fall like cloaks that hang long, pooling in waves on horses backs. I am thundering.  A long flock to follow and keep watch. Aiming for just a few more miles, until the next big sigh, the impasse, the clearing, the place, to pause. We drove enough for me to know I would never tire of the rays of the moon, to discover true moon-light, to feel a child; new to its glow. To hear the stillness of the whenua, to grasp at something that called deep or far away, I wasn’t sure, but I knew it turned the seasons and made the birdsong, filled with power it did not trouble to pander to me. On the road, I would come.

The road itself afforded me partnership at an early age, its formulation always differing, asking a different question. Moving me along. I was grateful for the movement this time, its self given duty, its scenes anew at each kilometre passed. The dipping sun across the river fragment, wind ripples on forest banks, clouds chasing stars, feeling compacted in the grandeur of the landscape and equally free, wide, fleshed out, for all of you is embodied in the road and your little understanding of it. A few times a little crumb of the past, a street, a snippet, a scene refreshed from brief childhood memories. Reminders that felt like the soft warm that poured in the passenger window. A hopeful circular joy to remember and discover all over again. To be eastbound, then west. To see the sun swallowed by the roto only to be spat out on to a pink dawn another season, not too far from now. Weaving the routes together, peering back at the year past, my four wheels and a hopeful little grin. 

(original work, aug 2022 1st draft & refined sept 2023)

[thevoidable]

Does Chief know that Arbiter was behind the fall of Reach?

This is a question that I'm sure has crossed a few people's minds, especially if you're someone who enjoys the dynamic that Chief and Arby share.

Reach was basically Chief's home; he grew up there, he was trained to be a Spartan there. That planet holds a lot of fond memories for him, and losing it to the Covenant was a devastating blow that only made him all the more angry towards them. So, you can imagine that he would be pissed if he ever came face to face with the one responsible. But when he did, there was no malice beyond shoving a magnum in Arbiter's mouth. They're good allies by the end of H3, so, does he know?

Well, the short answer is: yes. He absolutely does.

So, the real question here is: when did he know?

In order to answer that, we first need to look at what confirmed Chief's knowledge of the Arbiter's dark past in the first place.

Halo 2 Anniversary introduced terminals that gave lore fanatics incredibly juicy details about the in-game universe, and the very first one on Cairo Station is a report by Jameson Locke that details EVERY major crime committed by Thel 'Vadamee. Upon opening up the terminal, we are greeted by this:

A "blink and you’ll miss it” detail that I think a lot of people's eyes glaze over upon first watch. Now, I know what you're probably thinking - "Oh, he's viewing this report on Cairo, so he knew this back in Halo 2 then!" Ah ah ah, not so fast.

Locke specifies the date of the report as September 26 2552, but the events of Reach and the original trilogy all took place two months prior in July - if you remember how Halo 3 ended, that means that Chief is stranded in space by the time Semptember rolls around. Unless he has time travelling powers, there’s no way he’s reading a report from the future on Cairo, especially while it’s under attack. 

So, that said, when did Chief have a chance to read the report? 

Well, the answer is actually very simple: directly after the end of Halo 4.

If you need a refresher, Chief was thrown right into the conflict with the Didact from the beginning of the game, and it was non-stop action for him ever since. However, the ending cutscene of the game shows us his armour being removed (presumably for repairs), and he gets his first real downtime in years. This is when we can best assume that he found the report.

Now, allow me to paint you a picture.

Chief has just come back from defeating the Didact, but in the process he’s lost his closest friend. Fresh out of his armour and knee-deep in grief, he seeks to distract himself by digging through some files to find out what he’s missed. The last thing he remembers before entering cryosleep four years ago is discovering that the Foward Unto Dawn was torn in half, and the Arbiter was nowhere to be found. So, what happened to him? Did he survive? Is Chief’s newfound ally okay?

The database has several files listed under “The Arbiter”, but he ignores each in favour of one that immediately catches his attention, marked by ONI as highly classified.

He came looking for a distraction, but found only anger instead.

For the entirety of his time between the end of Halo 4 and during Halo 5, Chief had been dealing with his grief over Cortana and the indirect betrayal of someone he once trusted. Repressing those feelings led him to take on mission after mission back-to-back without rest, so much to the point that even ONI noticed. Blue Team was thankfully there for him through it all, but there wasn’t much that even they could do for him beyond supporting him. 

Fast forward to the end cutscene of Halo 5 - Chief doesn’t see Arbiter until he’s lost Cortana again. He failed to save her again. He’s at his lowest, the worst he’s ever felt, and there’s little anyone can do to cheer him up, if they can even tell he’s hurting.

But then in comes Arbiter, who - thanks to one of the books - provides the perfect distraction, taking Chief off to the side to have their first real conversation together, reminiscing about the past and catching up with each other. Chief gets to see how far Arbiter has come now, and just how much he still wants to do better. In the midst of Chief’s pain and guilt, he probably no longer has the energy to be angry, and he can see how holding a grudge against the Arbiter will benefit no one.

Forgiveness may not be in the cards just yet, and maybe one day Chief will get closure for the things Arbiter has done to him and millions of others, but for now, Arbiter can still inspire him to keep fighting, and he’ll value their alliance for as long as it lasts.

EDIT:

So I appear to stand corrected and have been informed that the original trilogy does NOT take place in July (Halopedia is the most convoluted rabbit hole I s2g) - CE takes place in September, and then Halo 2 starts in October with Halo 3 ending in December.

That complicates my theory a little BUT my point still stands that Chief is a busy guy and wouldn’t have read the report on Cairo while it was under attack (if you take accessing it during gameplay as canon). He also wouldn’t have an incentive to go looking for the information nor would he even know what to look for until Halo 4. There’s also a possibility that he was briefed about Thel at some point prior to H2, but wouldn’t have been able to make the connection that the silver-armoured elite he briefly met via the Gravemind and then fought alongside later was Thel. He just knew him as “The Arbiter”.

Either way, he still knows regardless, and it’s incredibly fun to think about the ramifications thereafter.

[ironmandeficiency]

i miss sparkling

pairing: dieter bravo / reader

word count: 1234

summary: dieter is feeling himself after breaking off an unhealthy relationship and meets you, finding that you’re bejeweled just like him

a/n: the idea of dieter just strutting into the club post-breakup with the confidence of yung gravy has me on my knees. there’s VERY little dialogue in this, heads up

rummaging through his closet, dieter realized it had been far too long since he’d worn an outfit worthy of the vip sections of clubs he would frequent. for weeks, it’s been the same rotation of sweats and threadbare band tees from concerts he didn’t remember attending.

his excuses for basically yeeting himself off the deep end have no legs to stand on and he knew it. the lack of clean clothes? he has people on his payroll that could easily be goaded into washing a few loads. his regular haunts not having food he felt like eating? there have been at least two occasions where he brought an entire rotisserie chicken to the club and no one stopped him.

after weeks of moping and recovering from the heartbreak caused by the one who shall not be named, he was finally ready to face the world once again. most importantly, he was ready to face himself again. 

sadness became his whole sky once the truth came out, every painting he tried to throw himself into subconsciously tinted with sapphire. it made him throw out every shade of blue paint he owned in a fit of melancholic rage, wondering why why why did this happen as wet diamonds fell from his eyes.

he bathed for the first time this week and made it look like he put effort into taming his wily hair. in all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he wore underwear and putting a clean pair on felt oddly satisfying. he was putting himself back together piece by piece and damn was it refreshing.

dieter has been (slowly) getting clean for the past several months with help from his na sponsor, an army vet who could cook mean barbacoa. it was francisco who kept dieter from relapsing at the revelation of what the one who shall not be named did to him. he was the one who brought home-cooked meals and stayed to watch shitty action movies on the pretentious leather couch dieter planned on throwing out as soon as possible.

but he couldn’t remain a hermit for much longer if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders, so going out was tonight’s plan.

the vip sections of his normal clubs would be crowded with people who would ask too many questions about what happened, and that was the last thing dieter needed. he just wanted to get drinks and dance his feet into nubs, so he found a place he’d never been and had his team feed false rumors to the paps about where he’d be.

tonight was about him.

░

work has been royally kicking your ass. there was always something going wrong, someone who took issue with how you ran things, and several ill-timed disasters in your personal life that almost had you pulling your hair out. your friends were sympathetic to your plight, but instead of encouraging you to curl up on the couch with a gallon of blue bell, they all but forced you to get ready for a night on the town.

of course, they wouldn’t be going with you. this was a night “destined” to be about you and you alone, about you taking much-needed time to recoup from the shitstorm your life has been lately. having other people come with you would only “inhibit the good vibes from focusing on you” and they couldn’t have that.

by the time the makeover fairies left your place, you were glammed up and genuinely excited for a fun night out. you were looking forward to dancing with strangers to loud music and having just enough to drink so your edges are just this side of blurred.

with a spring in your step, you get in your car and set your destination for your favorite club. the excitement is already flowing through your veins and you haven’t even pulled onto the highway. this was definitely what you needed.

░

dieter sent a quick text to francisco to check in before heading inside the club, a ritual dieter adopted early into their sponsor/sponsee friendship to hold him accountable. it worked for him; knowing that his friend cares about him works wonders to curb his now-seldom urges to use. upon telling him that he’s finally going out, francisco sends a congratulations and wishes him luck.

it’s a sign he was meant to be here when he realizes the dj is playing one of his favorite songs right as he walks through the door. he proudly struts to the bar, his easy confidence granting him a spot at the counter. he really is proud of himself, he thinks; enjoying and being himself again is progress.

he orders his usual and once it’s in front of him, he downs it in one gulp, eager to dance with the first person that piques his interest. the bass reverberates through him from the floor up and it gets him moving to the dancefloor with vigor. he has returned to himself and it’s an amazing feeling.

dieter suddenly feels like he’s surrounded by dozens of people like him who simply want to enjoy life while they can. all eyes are on him not because he’s an oscar-winning actor, but because he’s a diamond among playground pebbles, he’s the sun beckoning to the sunflowers in the fields. the combined energy of everyone in the room feeds his confidence in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

he’s dancing, basking in the flashing lights. all of his focus is on embracing these feelings and acting on his desire to find the happiness he’s missed. drinks are passed to him like offerings to the gods from devoted worshippers. nothing could bring him down, and he doesn’t think he could soar any higher.

then his eyes find yours and just like that, he’s among the stars.

you’re sitting at a table on the outskirts of the dancefloor, casually sipping your drink with an amused smile. there’s a fire in you that ignites the gasoline that flows freely through his veins. before he knows what he’s doing, his feet are carrying him towards your warm flame.

normally, when a man approaches you with that much confidence, they have one solitary goal: sex. that’s not what you’re looking for tonight and you’re about to tell this stranger to go away, but there’s something about him that makes it difficult to look away. you notice his outstretched hand and then he asks you to dance. just like that, you’ve been pulled into his orbit and onto the dancefloor with a laugh.

names are quickly exchanged before you’re both drowned out by the music.

what dieter lacks in skill he makes up for tenfold by his enthusiasm and the vibrance of his personality. all the attention was on the two of you, but you were oblivious, too focused on dieter and the shimmering of stray glitter on his sweat-kissed skin. this is what you’ve needed and it was exhilarating to share this moment with someone who understands.

he’s enchanted by you and the shared energy that carries him along the dancefloor. he missed sparkling the way he did before his world went to shit because of- no, he’s not important enough to remember. this is my night. his attention returns to the wide grin on your face, your aura absolutely sparkling like moonstone.

you’re bejeweled, just like him.

[project-sonamy]

At the Edge of a Cliff

Written by @luescris

Fanfic Masterlist

There were only a few times after the war with Eggman had ended where Amy Rose had been able to find time for herself.

Knuckles had come into her office that morning, and as soon as the words "you need a break" had left his mouth, she was out the door faster than she ever thought possible--for her, at least. The pink hedgehog wasn't at all concerned about who would be taking care of all the papers and mess the war had left behind; all that had been on her mind was to get out and get a breath of refreshing, cool air for a change. If she had been there any longer, she felt as if she would crack, and Knuckles was her sign that her prayers were finally being answered.

It wasn't like she didn't want to help, far from that of course. There was just so much to do, so much pressure, and Amy would much rather be out fighting robots and keeping others safe than stuck up in an office. Just like the rest of them would, just like they were used to. But as they grew older, so did their responsibilities, unfortunately, and things had changed. And this war… It was the reason it all had changed in the first place.

Amy couldn't help but give a sigh of relief when she felt the warmth of the sun hit her face and the sound of the grass underneath her boots reaching her ears. It was relieving, to see the blue sky above her, for what felt like the first time in so long.

Finally.. Her thoughts breathed.

She began her walk down the barely seen trail to her left, leading towards the sparse forest in the distance. She planned to only be gone for at least an hour or two, grab some food, and be on her way back. They would be fine without her for that long.

Hopefully.

Her legs felt as if they could go on for miles, having been sitting in a chair for hours on end had made them cramped. Having this moment, it had made her feel lighter and happier than she had ever been in these past few months, and the joy she felt spread across her face in the form of a grin, and suddenly, she was running through the forest, giggling with glee. So the plans for a peaceful walk through the forest were botched; oh well! A run was just as fun!

It didn't take her long to get past and beyond the trees, and by that time her breath came in gasps of air, chest heaving as Amy finally allowed to slow herself to a stop, wiping the sweat off her face as she bent over for a moment. Thanks to all the past years of running after Sonic though, she recovered quickly, and she straightened herself upright with a small smile gracing her lips. Then, she gave a small gasp at the sight that awaited her.

Just a few feet away, was one of the most beautiful sunsets she had ever seen. The sky was painted with pinks, yellows, and oranges, clouds wispy and small in numbers. The sun itself set over a small city below, and that was a little bit destroyed, sure, but Amy couldn't help but find it symbolic. And just barely touching the edge of the cliff in front of her, with his arms crossed over each other, stood Sonic the Hedgehog himself. The light illuminated his outline, the sun's shine making it seem like he was glowing. She couldn't see his face, but that didn't make him any less handsome.

A grin split once again on her face as her eyes twinkled excitedly. This day just got even better.

"Sonic!" She cried, jogging up to his side, fighting the old urge to jump on him with a bone-crushing hug. "Lucky finding you all the way out here, huh? I was able to--"

Amy stopped suddenly, grin dropping.

He hadn't so much as looked over at her. He stayed as if rooting to the spot, his eyes glued to the distant horizon below them. The only slight indication he had heard her was the tiny flick of his ear turning to her and back to almost pressing against his head. She would have at first thought he was ignoring her, if it weren't for the small frown on his face, or the way his ears were positioned. No one else could ever tell what emotion he'd be feeling at any given time, no one else but her, and perhaps maybe Tails. Amy could read him like an open book.

The pink hedgehog tries again, though hesitantly this time, reaching out a hand to place on his shoulder, but stops herself, letting it fall. "Sonic? Are.. Are you alright?"

Sonic doesn't answer her. Not at first. She knows it takes a little while longer to figure out how to voice his emotions, despite being the fastest thing on Mobius. So she waits patiently, staring out as the sun slowly falls past the horizon. Just as it had barely reached half way, he spoke.

"It's my fault, isn't it."

Amy turned to him again, a brow creased slightly in concern.

It was voiced as a statement, but said as a question. He didn't turn back to her still, but his frown seemed to have deepened a little bit more. She blinked at him, then took a small breath. "What is?"

He seemed to think on her question, she could almost see the gears turning in his uncharacteristically darkened eyes, like a storm of thoughts were brewing. Sonic shifted, as if already uncomfortable, and quickly threw a hand to motion at the city below.

"The mess." Sonic murmured. "The war."

His statement and mood suddenly clicked in Amy's mind.

He hadn't been staring at the beautiful sunset before them like she was, not at all. He had been staring at the city, at its ruins, and the smoke that had seemed to slowly die down when she had gotten there, which meant people were already dealing with it. That was a good thing, she reckoned, but he wasn't looking at it that way. Instead, the blue hero had been regretting how it, and the world, had been turned upside down. Regretting that he wasn't there to help.

Blaming himself.

At this, Amy finally reached for him, gently grasping his arm almost desperately and staring up at his face, brows furrowed.

"Sonic, look at me." She demanded gently. "None of this was your fault."

He didn't look at her, but he did smirk, without that same attitude she had come to associate with it. "Isn't it? If I had been here, we could have prevented.. Well, a lot."

"If I hadn't gone in alone, I wouldn't have been locked up."

Amy shook her head. "No, Sonic, you tried your best, like you always do, you just--"

"Underestimated the situation? Greatly?"

Now, he was looking at her. Waiting for a response almost. There was something he was trying to hide in those emerald green eyes of his, something deep. Something heavy. A great pain.

She had only ever seen that look on his face very few times. And most of them were when they had been on the battlefield during the war. She sometimes heard it in his voice, too. He would show glimpses of regret and hurt when they had saved some recruits, or went past a destroyed home, and it was only when someone wasn't paying attention or when he thought he was alone. But the second someone came up to him or called his name it was gone, as if it was never even there, and Sonic was back to smiling, carrying on and inspiring others to do the same. Amy couldn't help but to feel sympathy for him; there was so much on his shoulders, so much expected of him, and he thought only he had to carry that burden.

Slowly, Amy looked down at his chest, staring at the long scar that stretched on top. It was just barely noticeable, but if you looked close enough, you could see that it was there. And it wasn't ever there before. Hesitantly she touched her fingers to it gently, letting sorrow pull her under for a moment.

"... You got this when you were gone, didn't you?" She just barely murmured.

This makes him inhale quickly with shock, and when she blinked Sonic had apparently stepped away from her. Not too far to where she couldn't reach for him again, but far enough. He crossed his arms over the scar, seeming to hide it away from her, turning his head with a small scowl. His ears were tilted once again.

"I don't want to talk about that." He grumbled, voice tight. To anyone else, it'd sound like annoyed anger. But she knew it was panic.

"But, that's my point, Sonic." Amy tries again, stepping forward just a bit, though stops when he takes another inch away from her. This breaks her heart a little bit, but not for a love reason. Because she knows that's how hurt he truly was. ".. You were trapped. And, and being hurt. There was nothing you could do, not to escape on your own, and not to help down here, and that's okay. Everyone here on Mobius understands that. You're only blaming yourself, when there's no need to."

Sonic scoffs at that, rolling his eyes as if he was offended. "No need to? Amy, take a look around." He pointed to the city again, glaring at her. "That happened, because I wasn't here. The war happened because I didn't try hard enough to get out on my own. I had promised to protect the world from people like Eggman," He spat the name out like it was venom. "And then look what happened. I broke that promise."

His last statement seemed to have let something loose. He paused for a moment, brows only barely rising with slight surprise, and suddenly, he had his quills turned to her.

"I had failed everyone."

Amy stands there for a minute, staring at his backside with a hand pressed to her chest. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. She didn't know just how deep he had fallen into this lie of his. How long had he been suffering with this? She slowly began to walk towards him, the grass crunching under her feet signifying her approach. Thankfully, Sonic doesn't move away from her, and as she nears him, she can just barely see his chest heaving faster than normal. Again, the pink hedgehog walked to his side, closer this time, but he had turned his face away from her, hiding it.

".. Sonic." She murmured after a moment. "Look at me."

For a moment, it seemed as if he wasn't going to oblige. She has to hold in a gasp when he does, slowly.

He was crying.

It wasn't a full on sobbing; just hot tears streaming down the sides of his muzzle every few seconds, his eyes glossy and reflecting the sunset that just barely was starting to turn the world dark with stars. But the pain Sonic was hiding earlier was there now, had broken out past the wall he had normally tried to build around his emotions. And he was ashamed of it.

He made a motion as if he was going to turn and run suddenly, and to stop him Amy took his face into her hands, her eyes now also filling with tears as she met his eyes again. She had never in her life seen him cry before, and again her heart broke, into a million different pieces onto the floor below them like glass. Sympathy, sorrow, and anger flooded her as she gently wiped a stray tear off his face; how dare the world, dare Eggman, hurt her Sonic this way. He didn't deserve this kind of pain. His eyes widened at the action with slight surprise. But he didn't seem to want to move away now. Which was good.

"Sonic," Amy whispered past the lump in her throat, and swallowed to lessen the tightness of her throat as she continued. "You have not failed anyone. You are not a failure. No one blames you for anything that has happened, because this was all because of Eggman." She too allowed her voice to drip with rage, but she blinked, and a few tears slipped from under her lashes, ruining the effect. "He was the one that took you away, took you off guard, cheated. And ruined everything afterwards. What matters most, right here and now, is that you are here, that you came back. When we needed you the most. And even when you weren't here physically, you were here in spirit. We fought for you, because of you. The ones who.. Who lost their lives, understood that, and agreed to that." She dipped her head when Sonic tried to move away, keeping her eyes on his. "And if anyone tries to say otherwise, they are wrong."

His eyes flicked over hers. "B-but Amy, I-"

Amy pressed her forehead to his, effectively shutting him up, her eyes closed. "Mobius loves you." She murmured. "I love you. You could never be a failure after everything you have done for us. Don't you ever forget that."

Nothing really happened at first for a few seconds. Which was fine to her. She knew his limits, and had caught him in a time where he was emotionally vulnerable for a change. She was more than okay with just standing there for him. But then, surprising her, Sonic had wrapped his arms around her waist, and suddenly his head dropped into her shoulder, hugging her tight. His shoulders shook with silent, soft sobs, and for a moment Amy's arms were raised in the air, unknowing on what to do. But she eventually hugged her hero back, kissing his cheek lovingly before burying her own face into his quills. They stood there at the end of the cliff for a while as the sun finally slipped away, and the stars shone around them in the dark, night sky. Even after Sonic had cried all that he would let himself, he held onto her, as if she had been the one thing he had needed.

At some point, though, the moment had to end. In the distance, someone had called her name, and her ear picked up and pointed in the direction the voice was coming from. But she wasn't ready to let go yet. There was a few minutes that passed before the voice--which Amy now recognized as Knuckles'--called again, closer this time. This was what made Sonic finally move, and he slowly pulled away, looking down at her, not letting go of her waist.

And he looked at her in a way that made her heart flutter.

There was still a lingering sadness, but it wasn't heavy, the brightness and glint in his eyes seemingly having returned.

"... Thank you." He had whispered, and so quietly it had almost gone unheard, but the genuine sincerity of it was what made it heard.

And before Amy had a chance to say anything back to him, he had kissed her--not on the cheek, but on the lips of all things--and though it was more of a simple peck it left her blushing madly.

Then, with a rush of wind and a flash of blue, Sonic was gone.

She had been standing in that very same spot, staring after the blur he had left behind with a hand on her red hot cheek when Knuckles had found her, mind still going at lightning speed.

"There you are!" The echidna called, stepping up to Amy with an authoritative aura. "We were getting worried, you've been out for almost three hours and--! .. Hey, you alright?" His voice dropped to concern upon seeing the starstruck look on the girl's face.

Amy nodded in response just barely, still swooning with the butterflies in her stomach as Tails seemingly came from the bushes as well.

"Yeah.." She muttered to them both, and a smile slowly bloomed across her lips as she sighed. "Just watching the sunset…"

Art by @marpple

[randonowrong]

Sir Billiam (Technoblade), Ranbutler (Ranboo), and James (Sapnap) x Servant! Reader [HCs]

A/N: I put it under the cut because it’s so long. I honestly just started writing and unknowingly put so many words into these headcanons. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lord Billiam III (Technoblade):

You are one of his many employees at the estate.

You were an orphan that was brought (bought) by his parents to serve at the estate since their servants kept dying or leaving.

Growing up you were taught how to do household chores by the older servants.

Seeing as you are in the same age range as their son, your masters decided to make you his personal servant.

With how Billiam grew up into an adult, I would assume that he was taught this during his childhood.

His parents were very critical of the social divide between you and their son.

You never forgot the reminders that you were nothing compared to them.

Billiam kept the act his parents wanted whenever he interacted with you in front of them.

But he was always kind and gentle with you compared to the other servants even his parents weren’t present.

He taught you how to read and write, leaving you with his favorite books whenever he had business to attend.

He loved when you ran to him to ask something about the book that you couldn’t understand, or when you didn’t know what a word meant.

This went on for years until his parents caught you in his room reading while he wrote at his study.

He heard them start screaming profanity at you and he ran into his room to see you being dragged by the hair outside.

He walked forward to help you but his father told him to stay because they had to deal with the “filth”.

Months went by without him hearing or seeing you. He assumed the worst, his parents had you killed.

During the period, he refused to have another servant but you.

He acted out against his parents’ orders and started on his path to independence.

He focused on his studies and work so that he could take over the family business and lands so that he can find you.

After a long time, he finally saw you again.

This was when he stayed up late due to managing some family matters and he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.

There you were, in the servant’s clothes, on your knees and wiping the floor clean.

“Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to you.

After you heard him you stood up and took a deep bow. “I apologize for disturbing you my lord, I shall leave immediately.”

He had no time to stop you from taking the cleaning supplies and booking it downstairs.

Every future instance where he tried to talk to you was met with profuse apologizing and leaving.

He eventually gave up on interacting with you, as in the few moments that you do, you make it clear you don’t want anything to do with him.

Without his anchor, his tether that kept him humane, he was consumed by the snobbish teachings of the aristocracy.

When his parents finally died, Billiam became the sole owner of the many properties and subsidiaries his parents’ managed.

His cruelty knew no bounds, severely punishing servants who made a slight mistake. Servants...except you.

When the heir became the lord, you had become appointed as the head servant of the estate, in charge of managing and teaching the staff to serve.

Servants would notice the tense air that hung when you and their employer would interact, the casual reports on the happenings at the estate, servants being laid off for mistakes, etc.

The first time you two had conversed without the awkwardness is when a deal he wanted to secure fell through. He was livid, destroying everything in his quarters.

Knowing that any miniscule slight while Billiam was furious would result in severe punishment, you took it upon yourself to fix the room. Deciding to spare the other servants from possible suffering.

When the noise of glass being thrown, tables being flipped, and paintings being torn had ceased, you decided to enter the room and tend to your lord.

Billiam stood by his overturned desk. Shards of glass from the decorations he threw stuck in his bleeding hand. 

“My lord you are injured, please allow me to tend to your wounds.” he tensed after hearing your voice call out to him. 

Turning around he observed the wreckage that he caused, his eyes stopping on your figure holding a rag and setting down a basin of water on the ground.

The room grew silent as you were crouched down and tending to Billiam, no sound threatened to escape from either of you. 

When you finished picking out the shards and cleaning the wounds you stood up with the basin, now colored red, to leave the room when he grabbed your hand “Stop.”

Complying, you stopped in your tracks and faced him. “Yes my lord?”

“I-I...” he clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to tell you.

His mind cleared, he knew what he needed first from you. “I command you to tell me why you were and have been avoiding me!” he shouts, raising his voice.

You sigh, eyes drifting to stare at the floor as your lips open to answer. “It would be best to show you my lord.” you answer, setting down your things, you untie the affixes of your attire.

With the last of the strings untied, you turn around and move your top to expose your back to him. 

His mouth agape, he stared at the lashes on your back, the burn marks, the deep cuts. “Wha-”

“It was your parents, my lord. They did not like it when they saw how close we were.” you added, beginning to fix yourself back up.

You felt him crash into you, pulling you into a tight hug, as his breath fanned your nape. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” you feel warm tears fall on your bare neck.

You let him be open with his emotions, as the dam that kept all of the pain in for the past years cracks and floods out. You hear him mumble apology after apology to you.

When his tears falter, you turn around and pull him into a hug. Tangling your hand in his hair and nudging his head into your neck to comfort him.

“Don’t apologize for feeling what you feel.”

His breath hitches as you continue speaking.

“And don’t apologize for loving me.”

That night was spent with Billiam being in your arms as he had wanted to be for years, finally feeling the warmth he did when you were both young.

The next day, your belongings were being moved by the servants outside of your quarters. Under orders from Lord Billiam they answered when you questioned why.

“You will no longer be the head servant, (Y/N).” Billiam stated as he walked towards you accompanied by three maids.

“From now on you shall be mine, the spouse of Lord Billiam III.” he smirked, holding out a hand for you.

You reach out and grab his hand “Yes, my lord.”

Ranbutler (Ranboo):

A fellow servant under the employ of Lord Billiam III.

The both of you were employed on the same day, as your new master needed more servants to manage the happenings around his vast estate.

Ranboo had no time to introduce himself to you as work was immediately shoved upon his shoulders, he would be acting as the personal servant at the side of Lord Billiam.

You, meanwhile, were in charge of managing the storehouse and making sure everything your master needed was in stock.

Life...is hard when serving under an aristocrat, more so under Lord Billiam. 

He was very critical of everything and all he does is done with utmost perfection. Failure wasn’t allowed at his manor.

Thankfully, you were able to adjust easily to your job. Taking walks around the estate to question the denizens of the necessities which were needed. Being able to pick out the most affordable but high quality items.

Which lead to you being one of the few that did not catch the ire of your master. He had even given a sarcastic statement which sounded like a compliment? You were unsure if he was capable of complimenting a mere servant.

When Lord Billiam needed to attend to business away from the city, he left Ranboo in charge of acting in his stead, as one of his closest aides.

Most of the servants breathed a collective sigh of relief when the carriages, carrying your master, had left the confines of the property.

The few servants that stood by the side and watched the others silently knew something.

They couldn’t slack just because he wasn’t here. Lord Billiam has eyes and ears everywhere, so slacking off was something never to be done.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Ranboo walk and stand beside you. “Lord Billiam wants stocks of wine and other refreshments to be present in the cellar by the time he arrives. He specifically instructed to only procure the best, so do not worry about the cost.”

You nod and continue watching the rambunctious bunch of servants. “Of course. I assume Lord Billiam instructed you about that?” you question.

He gives a slight nod and turns to walk back inside the manor leaving you.

The next day, most of the servants had taken it upon themselves to have fun while doing their job. The cooks used ingredients to cook meals for themselves, the cleaners allowing dust and dirt to gather on the furniture.

You took your daily stroll around the place, taking mental notes of whatever the servants you crossed paths with were doing. 

Absentmindedly you bumped into someone’s chest and mumbled a quick “Sorry.”

Looking up you came faced with the trusted aide of your lord. “Would you like to join me for afternoon tea?” he invited, gesturing to the direction of the balcony.

You raise a brow and begin walking with him towards the balcony. In your mind you wonder what his plans may be, knowing Lord Billiam must have trusted him with that.

Arriving at the balcony a gentle breeze blew through your hair as you looked at the table in front of you. An assortment of treats and sweets were laid out, a pot of tea with two cups and saucers present as well.

Ranboo walked to one of the chairs and pulled it out, gesturing for you to take a seat. When you did, he walked to his own and began pouring the hot beverage. 

The two of you sat in silence, the only sound being heard were the chirping of the birds that flew overhead. 

“So...I presume that you are on the same orders as I am?” you break the silence, taking a sip from your cup and staring at him for an answer.

He nods. “Sir Billiam has entrusted me with this job and I must fulfill it dutifully. You must understand so, (Y/N).” he grabs the pot and pours himself another cup. 

“Yes...we must weed out the imperfections that our lord does not need.” you hum, staring at your reflection in the tea. “As our lord’s favored aids, you being publicly known, and I with the others being secret, must serve without fault.”

Your eyes both held a dark gleam, staring at each other with understanding of your orders. “Well, I am thankful for the tea, but I must continue with my work.” you stand and set down your saucer. “I enjoyed our small discussion. I hope to speak with you more in the future, now excuse me.”

The succeeding days were a blur, although your master was absent from the manor, there was still a backlog of work and duties which had to be done. Having to continue observing the other servants, managing deliveries and orders to and from the estate, and making sure your discussion with the butler was kept private.

Oh yes, speaking of the butler. He would be at each of your turns, giving his insight on what sir Billiam would order and keeping the estate running. 

You would catch him in the corner of your eye, staring at you from the shadows. Though this did not faze you as he was just following commands, as was you.

When Lord Billiam III returned a week later all the servants stood outside to receive their Lord. They all stood firmly, heads bowing low, and no noise threatening to escape their lips. “Welcome back my Lord!” you all collectively shout.

You and Ranboo stood at the head of the two lines. Lord Billiam began to stride towards the entrance when he stopped in his tracks. “You two, follow me.” he commanded and continued on his path.

“Yes my lord.” you both answer, raising your heads and following him, keeping a suitable distance. 

Arriving in front of the doors to his quarters, you both took steps forward and opened the double doors and bowing. You could feel the smirk that Sir Billiam held as he walked in, the two of you soon following and closing the doors.

Taking a seat at his study, Billiam put his hands together and set his elbows on the table. “Now, give me a detailed report you two.” he ordered.

You both nodded and gave detailed statements on what happened at the estate in the duration of his absence. Every mistake, every success, every mishap, everything. With him nodding to each explanation.

“I knew picking you two as my personal aides wasn’t a mistake.” he chuckles. “Now leave, I have work to do.” he states, voice turning cold.

In the morning, all the servants were gathered in the main hall. They whispered to one another, wondering about the sudden meeting.

The noises stopped as soon as Lord Billiam stood at the head of the stairs overlooking the foyer, he was followed by two servants, the butler and you. 

“Now, you may all be wondering why I have called you all at such an ungodly hour.” he stated, looking at the servants like ants. “It has come to my attention the problems my estate faces, with regards to all of you.” he continues, taking delight in the looks of fear that some held.

“I hereby relieve you all of your duties, leave at once, I have no need for incompetents who slack around when they believe their master isn’t present.” he seethes, glaring at them, before turning and leaving the room.

You and Ranboo glance at each other as you hear the servants cry, some panic, some running to sort out their departure. No matter, you thought, as the butler put a hand on your shoulder and nodded.

He tugged your arm towards the balcony, a soft smile on his face. “Afternoon tea?”

“I would be glad to have some, Mr. Butler.”

Lord James (Sapnap):

You are a servant in service to Lord James’ family for a long period.

You were present from the beginning of his marriage to his subsequent divorce. Acting as one of his wife’s personal servants, in charge of dressing her and tending to her beck and call.

Having been assigned to her, you were well acquainted with Lord James. Being the one to inform him whenever your lady was unavailable.

Though the first interaction between just you two, not involving or speaking about anyone else happened quite later.

It happened after an argument with his wife, who promptly stormed out of the manor, leaving you with her husband. You felt awkward being left in the same room without your lady. 

You were ready to walk out of the room when you suddenly heard him collapse as he began to sob. 

You crouched down and held him up, comfortingly rubbing his back. You were about to speak when you were pulled into a hug, feeling tears fall on your shirt. 

You stayed on the floor, letting James cry his heart out. You continued rubbing his back but stayed silent.

Once his tears stopped flowing, you helped him stand and walk to his bed.

Turning to leave the room, you were stopped when he grabbed your hand firmly. “Stay.” he softly spoke, tugging you towards the bed.

“My lord, we can’t, what would my lady think-” you protested, worried for yourself and for him, already thinking of the scale of this scandal if word got out.

“I just...want someone to hold me, please.” he pleaded, eyes downcast towards the floor. 

You relented as he brought you into an embrace and pulled you into the bed. He rest his head in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

Within moments, he had fallen asleep, obviously emotionally drained with all the baggage he’d been carrying. You sigh, running a hand through his soft locks. He stirred in his sleep and moved his head closer to your hand.

You stayed there for a few minutes, a wave of exhaustion washing over you as well. Slowly, you were lulled to sleep with the sound of his breathing...

Awakening, you rubbed your eyes, it was still dark outside possibly nearing daybreak you assumed. Turning your head, you saw Lord James. He still remained clung to your side like a babe.

Although you wanted to stay in the comforts of the soft bed, one which could not be said for your own in the servants’ quarter, you decided to leave before his wife came upon the scene. 

Slowly, you wrung the arm he was hugging from his grasp and stood up from the bed. Fixing your attire you saw as he stirred from his sleep, moving to search for the source of heat that moved away.

You smiled, tugging the blankets over his figure and patting his head one last time before exiting the room.

With a soft click of the door, you scanned the halls, it was empty. You breathed a sigh of relief, it was a good thing no one caught you at this time. You knew what people would assume if they had seen you, a lusty commoner ruins another marriage.

You began your walk towards the servants’ shared quarters, the light of the moon passing through the window lighting your path. 

James awoke the next day, with a blanket draped over him. He smiled, knowing you did this. 

He heard a knock at the door “My lord, breakfast has been served and my lady is looking for you.” a servant called out before the clacking of their shoes indicated they walked away.

Sighing, he began to prepare himself for the day, grabbing a new tunic and fixing his disheveled appearance. 

Arriving at the dining hall, he saw servants running around the place, placing plates and utensils on the table. Some were bringing out the food from the kitchens.

Although his eyes drifted immediately to you. You were stood by his wife and listening to the orders she barked at you. With each command earning a nod of acknowledgement from you afterwards.

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed you and turned to start her meal. You bowed and turned to exit the room when your eyes met James’. You stilled before casting your eyes to the floor and walking out of the hall.

James understood it all too well, once being someone who laughed at the broken marriages of other nobles, caused by them falling prey to their servants’ temptation. He couldn’t laugh, now that he was one of them.

He knew it was wrong though. He was already married, and had a duty to fulfill to his family and wife. While you? You were trying to survive in society, not wanting to be part of any drama.

Snapping out of his trance when his wife called out to him, he sighed and took a seat at the table. Mind still focused on you.

Even though he consummated the marriage and had children with her. His love and yearning for you never faltered. You were by her side every step of their marriage. You took turns with the nannies in watching the children, sometimes being left to care for them when James and his wife went on trips.

Through the years you two did this careful dance. Feathery touches that drifted on your skin for moments before disappearing. Loving glances thrown at each other’s way. The soft tone of his voice when he spoke to you. Though others would think nothing of it, the two of you knew the fragile fantasy going on.

A fragile fantasy that all came crashing down that day.

Screaming could be heard throughout the whole manor, servants stayed quiet and steered away from the room, which you couldn’t really do.

As the personal servant of Lord James’ wife, you stood by the sidelines as they threw words, insults, and the occasional object at each other in their rage.

In her anger she threw one of the decorative stones on the nearby table. Lord James saw it and was able to jump out of the way.

They both stopped when they heard it collide with something else. Turning around, he saw the stone on the floor with blood staining one side of it.

You crouched down from the pain and put a hand on the side of your head, retracting it you could see the red color staining your skin. 

“(Y/N)!” James shouted, running over to help you up when his wife cut in.

“Don’t help that lowly servant! Pay attention to me you bastard! Do you think I wouldn’t notice?!” she shouted.

James paid no mind to her as he caught you in his arms. You had passed out from the blood loss, and probably the concussion on your head.

“Don’t think we aren’t done talking! You still haven’t answered me!” she continued to scream, though her words never reached his ears.

Picking you up he turned and glared at her. “We’ll speak about this tomorrow.” he firmly stated, before walking out and bring you to an empty room so he can tend to you.

You awoke with a headache, it was dark. Sitting up on the bed, you noticed you were one in the spare bedrooms and gripped your forehead as a stinging pain came. Right...you got hit by a rock.

You jumped when you heard the door open. Turning you came faced with Lord James, the upper buttons of his shirt being undone and a hand running through his hair.

He opened his eyes and met yours, then he scrambled towards you. “Are you okay? Is there still pain? Do you want me to call the physician?”

“Please do not worry yourself over me my lord.” you answered, wanting to keep the formality of the situation. Standing up from the bed you put your hand over his, which was placed on the side of your head. 

“I- uh yes.” he coughed, retracting his hand and putting them by his side. “I’m sorry about that, you didn’t need to get caught up in our argument.” 

Your eyes widened, your lady must be looking for you right now. “Excuse me, my lord.” you stated in panic, patting yourself down to look presentable before running out of the room.

“No need, she’s gone.” you heard James state as you stopped in your tracks. “Our divorce will be finalized in a few days, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me or you anymore.”

Thoughts raced through your mind, does she know about the incident, what would happen to you if she did. Your breathing picked up as you stilled.

James brought you into an embrace, your back hitting his chest as he dipped his head into the top of your head and inhaled. Your hair smelled lovely, comparable to that of other noble ladies. He shut the door, wanting to keep the privacy between you two.

“My lord, we shouldn’t it isn’t proper.” you stated, keeping firm on the fact you wanted to preserve not only your reputation but more importantly his.

“I don’t care.”

“But what would others think?”

“I don’t care.” he firmly stated, turning you around and pushing you against the wall.

“For years I’ve kept these feelings inside and now that there isn’t anything stopping me, I can finally express these repressed emotions.” he continued.

“I...I...-” he trailed.

“I command you to love me!” he shouted. trapping you against the wall with his forehead touching your own. 

You sigh in defeat and finally relent, reaching up and cupping his cheek, “I already do, my lord.”