#i am stuck on the project-less job

[ninanirina]

everytime it seems like i am composing my life again, the world seems to say 'haha no, not for you'

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 014 ! im one less lonely girl

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note so thats a wrap! just like that, its over. this is technically the last official part bc ep15 is more like an epilogue/can be read as a standalone, but its still just as meaningful to the plot. i had so much fun writing this and i gained so much support and so many new moots. i love you all and thank you for staying here even though i struggled to update while juggling school and work. 💗

previous <> masterlist <> next

“i’m so sad to announce that today will be our last show together, as our contract has reached its end.” you read off the script, lightly patting your waterline with the pad of your pointer finger.

“but, i hope this won’t be the last time we see each other. i am very thankful for this opportunity.” riki spoke as he looked into the camera lens, before moving closer to link his arm with yours.

“this was newjeans’ y/n,” “and this was enhypen’s ni-ki! please look forward to our future projects. we may no longer mc together, but we will forever be a couple together. thank you everyone!”

the cameras stopped rolling, and the red light turned off which signaled the recording was over.

staff and crew rushed to the both of you, so you were immediately bombarded with baskets of fruit, chocolates, snd two flower bouquets.

“this is for a good few months of connecting together. thank you for your hard work and dedication.” the head of the staff greeted, as his assistants handed out your gifts.

“thank you sir. we look forward to seeing more of you in the future!” the two of you bowed, before leaving to head backstage.

“dani said she’s gonna come with everyone else to pick us up. they want to get dinner at that chicken spot to celebrate our contract ending.” you informed riki, turning to show the texts in the group chat as he finished changing out his stage outfit.

hyein! - ‘congrats, you’re free from the chains music bank had you bounded into!🥳🎉’

danii 💗 - ‘me and enjeans are gonna get u guys from work so we can get chicken. great job on mubank :)’

riki chuckled, before handing your phone back to you. “sunghoon and heeseung are gonna get so drunk. so, beware.” he emphasized.

“no worries. im stuck with you anyway.” you sighed, gently punching his shoulder.

“here’s to riki and y/n, for finally being free from kbs! i hope none of us ever have to mc again.” sunghoon toasted as he raised his glass, after jake poured everyone shots.

“for real. we barely saw you guys while you were signed to that contract.” minji nudged your shoulder.

hyein burst out laughing, almost spilling the drinks scattered around her place at the table. “if you guys weren’t dating, y/n would’ve been sobbing because she’d never see you again!”

“is.. is she, drunk?” sunoo raised a brow, gently pulling hyein’s hood over her head.

“sunoo! she’s underage! all i got her were 2 shirley temples.” danielle gasped.

“okay! enough. we’re in public.” riki announced. “baby? go ahead my love.” he gestured sweetly for you to make your speech.

“thanks ‘ki.” you smiled. “i’m pretty happy our managers decided to let us have a joint interview that day. if we didn’t, me and riki probably would’ve never met. so, i’m glad music bank happened. otherwise, i couldn’t call this kid here my boyfriend.” you spoke, moving to wrap your arms around riki in a soft hug.

“cheers!” everyone exclaimed in awe.

as your group members around you yelled out congratulatory speeches, all riki could think about was you.

because now that you could be in his arms in public with no repercussions, that was all that mattered.

you looked at him with a bright smile, and riki could feel his heart melt as your expression.

the world had one less lonely girl.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[see-arcane]

WARNING: Spoilers for The Vampyres, Dracula, and "Clarimonde" below the cut.

Also a bit of knife-twisting of the metaphorical variety. (Not that it hurts any less than steel.)

Rather than throw myself into another scribbling digression to take a break from other scribbling digressions, I’ve scratched a story itch via the sketchbook. This is the result.

I’ve gotten questions about what happens to ‘Quinn Morse’ aka a certain knife-swinging solicitor who God, the Devil, and Death itself won’t let die after the events of The Vampyres. The obvious answer is: dude’s still doing the job appointed to him by the Powers That Be. Poor guy is stuck paying a Faustian due of wiping out the predatory undead before he can ever put down the blade and hop in the grave himself.

Enter Clarimonde, from Théophile Gautier’s short story of the same name (also “La Morte Amoureuse” “The Dead Leman” “The Dead Woman in Love”) who’s still out here breaking hearts and ruining sleep schedules. The girl’s an undead party queen and a romantic hedonist, but is so terrible at the vampire part of vampirism she regularly drops dead(er) from being too hesitant about taking blood and/or conscripting. She takes barely a drop of blood when she does get to it; though that sin was enough for her own heart and physical form to get broken with betrayal. She got better—corporeally, at least—and carried on.

Until she crossed paths with Mr. Tall Dark and Sold His Soul for Love. And vice versa, our good friend the ex-Victorian psychopomp has finally run into a vampire it would be immoral to slay just for the sake of erasing another undead ‘to-do’ off the list…even if she’s temporarily the only one in the world. And therefore the only barrier between himself and finally getting to rest with his loved ones. He doesn’t even have the impetus of killing to save someone’s life as an excuse. Damn it.

I won’t say I’m not thinking about fully scribbling out the bizarre/sweet/likely doomed companionship that could exist between these two love-powered angst machines. The idea’s got teeth, pun intended. Plus there’s definitely an itch to be scratched regarding my old headcanon that Clarimonde was the Pretty Girl in Piccadilly that Mina and Dracula nearly broke their necks trying to get an eyeful of once upon a time. There’s some loaded ammo there for Clarimonde to really test her safety by mentioning, ‘Hey, your wife would have wanted it. I know, I read her mind that one time. We can break out a Ouija board and confirm.’

But I am trying to reserve the bulk of my writing juice for the current Big Project, so it’ll have to be something to poke at around the corners for now. Just wanted to share the concept with folks who might be interested.

Also, some deleted dialogue:

Clarimonde, posing in her sheerest funeral veil: “So, what are your thoughts on casual intimacy?”

Jonathan, sharpening the kukri: “I’m a big admirer of the praying mantis’ approach.”

Clarimonde: “The male’s or the female’s?”

Jonathan: “Either.”

Clarimonde: “So no romancing unless it’s to pull some psychosexual chess master mess on a villain?”

Jonathan: “Supposing the villain in question used said intimate betrayal on their own victims, yes. Also, they’d know something was wrong if I was ‘immune to their charms’ and—what’s this?”

Clarimonde, handing over several centuries’ worth of letters: “Documented evidence from members of aristocracy and clergy that I am a nefarious succubus in need of punishment for my preying on the morals and hearts of pious citizens. Look, they even included illustrations of how they’d do it.”

Jonathan: “…And were these documents attached to deliveries of jewelry or just sacks of gold?”

Clarimonde: “Both. On account of my evil coercing them into it.”

Jonathan, handing the letters back in a portfolio: “I’m afraid your villainy does not qualify for my services at this time. You’ll have to reapply with one or more proofs of murder and/or predation upon mortal innocents at a later date.”

Clarimonde:

[darqx]

Some BP/HH/General asks

That mood when you want to share all the things but also want to keep it under wraps for the actual thing haha! Thanks very much anon!

As for your questions, I can't actually be specific cos there's no definitive number I have in mind for either. Basically there are a number of sectors (you can consider them their equivalent of countries - they have less than what we do though), and a number of species of demon of which I've designed about seven of. The ones I've shown before are these guys (and do you think I could find this pic again? No, I had to recreate it cos for the life of me I couldn't remember what ask I'd previously stuck it in lol):

One day when i have enough species and stuff out there I want to make a proper field guide \o/

Thank you very much for the interest! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ I would actually love to for BP, but before I jump the gun there I have to get the comic out first lol. That being said I have made mini-games before featuring the HH versions and some other characs alas they are all lost at the moment to the sands of Flash becoming obsolete 😩

Me and Gato do still collab sometimes (and send each other Xmas presents)! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I have been working on one off and on for a while actually! Hopefully I'll have some pages to post next year or so*, I've been doing a bit of thumbnailing recently :D

*that is the plan but i also don't know where people find the time to do anything with a full time job lol.

Hullo! Glad you are enjoying the snippets of BP I've got here and there :D Here is an older ref on Izm back when i first got the idea (at that time i didn't really plan to do anything with it, it was just an AU. Now it's my main project haha. Anyway the ref is a little bit out of date in that regard.)

I used to have a "field guide" which was also made quite a while ago, unfortunately the death of Flash kinda killed it. Here's a screenshot of some relevant info from it though.

That's an interesting one as it's questionable how sentient souls are after removal 🤔 In my mind its only form is the smoke light, it can "see" to some degree and MIGHT be able to talk (but in a very no one can hear them sort of way, a la i have no mouth and i must scream. So i guess it can think "aloud"). The more time passes the less sentience it has.

It could try, though it wouldn't really get anywhere if it's in Rire's collection. He might just eat it lol.

.D: Good with kids, will be fine in all aspects.

Izm: The fun dad however needs a partner that knows what they're doing to ensure the child safety during shenanigans.

Marcus and Zeke: Also would be good parents though might be more helicopter out of protectiveness/worry when first starting out.

Ren: Geek parent very good for homework help. Some Asian parent tendencies eg "ah see, i told you not to do that right? Now you see what happened."

They are similar to our known society for this! So basically, there are some good families out there (eg Zeke - who is a demon - is from a pretty average loving family), and there are some bad families out there who only care about power or having an heir or whatever.

HH Rire is a human. I differentiate between him and Demon Rire because they are two different characters...even though they are also technically the same character lol. You can consider them as alternate universe iterations of a base "Rire" concept.

I actually half jested this in an old comic lol

I am sorry to inform you that a HH webcomic doesn't actually exist 😅 I did a lot of art, animations and one shots (such as the HHJ comics) with them, but nothing actually planned or serialised or anything. Whatever's currently on my DA or here is basically what exists.

Bringing this image back cos it's relevant lol.

You spelled it correct there though! XD

[aspd-culture]

Sorry ig in advance since you get questions a lot but got curious about a few things

1. Is it normal for pwASPD to view unbeneficial relationships as chores? I know I, a likely prosocial, when I don't see the benefit in a relationship, I have to view it as being a chore to continue it.

2. If a connection is established between harming others and being harmed, will a pwASPD, for lack of a better term, be able to mimic empathy or remorse?

3. Do you know if pwASPD and another comorbid disorder, if the other disorder causes already low or fragile self esteem (like another cluster B), can seem like they don't have ASPD?

These are mostly for project research but also out of curiosity because I can

Nothing to be sorry for!!/gen

1.) Oh yes. So very, very much yes. And honestly, it's even worse than a chore - more like if a dead-end job decided to stop paying you but you'd go to jail if you quit. If you've ever seen a kid stuck dress shopping with their mother on TV, that's the way I would like to act through every single interaction with an equal part useless and annoying but unavoidable prosocial irl. Every single non-Exception prosocial is that coworker you hate who won't leave you alone./hj Joking aside, not all prosocials are actually that annoying actually. So it kind of depends; sometimes it's fine at least for me.

2.) Yeah, I'd say so. This goes differently for all of us, but for the most part "connection formed" would probably go in the direction of an Exception, and that's where some symptoms of ASPD are lessened for those of us that have them. That includes often having some degree of effective empathy and/or a desire to work on cognitive empathy with them in particular (I use them as practice to make the necessary use of cognitive empathy less annoying with non-Exceptions). Ditto with remorse for some pwASPD, though for me in particular that depends on the Exception in question. Some still do not bring out remorse in me for whatever reason. This is a good place to note that actually, since I don't think I've mentioned this elsewhere. Exceptions do not all have to be the same even for the same pwASPD. Two friends may have different symptoms they alleviate vs don't affect vs worsen, and of course platonic vs sexual vs romantic Exceptions often vary in that as well. For me and a few other pwASPD I've met, this may also occur with some groups of people who aren't Exceptions but cause an Exception-esque response. For me, kids get that as most do other people struggling with mental health disorders beyond just depression and anxiety (nothing easy about those two it's just in our current world most people have those). If I hurt a kid's feelings, 25/10 times I am going to cry with them or force myself not to. And that will vary for each pwASPD based on how much social neurological development was completed before it was fundamentally changed and started developing antisocially too. Some of us have more empathy than others, or more remorse than others (and vice versa) in general, so that'll impact those situations too.

3.) So this depends on what you define as "seem like they don't have ASPD", though it won't be self-esteem that affects that. Generally I'd point that more in the direction of NPD. But yeah, looking at the symptoms of ASPD, there are a few specific disorders that cause someone who very much has ASPD to not be diagnosed and/or believed both professionally and personally. In personal relationships, it's honestly just not being a serial k*ller that will get most to think you don't have it. Professionally, you're looking at disorders that cause social problems (such as autism, SAD - social anxiety, and GAD - generalized anxiety), impulse control (ADHD mostly), emotional instability (bipolar disorder, IED - intermittent explosive, ODD - oppositional defiance, and yeah your other cluster b PDs). There are others that make a whole lot less sense imo to get in the way of an ASPD diagnosis too. Schizophrenia comes to mind, with some professionals thinking that it's just... so many episodes of psychosis that it starts to look like ASPD which, don't even get me started on how much of a medical failure it is that I have heard of that specific thing happening. But mostly, it's going to be the ones I listed previously. None of these are mutually exclusive with ASPD, but they have symptoms that overlap with or mimic ASPD's, and so you'll have genuinely good professionals who are trying to avoid over/misdiagnosis where it applies to a *very* stigmatized disorder, and you'll have lazy ones that don't care to try and pick out which it is if not both. That will all just depend on the pwASPD's presentation of symptoms. I had more than one professional refuse to believe I had ASPD, and my (very lovely and dilligent/gen) psychiatrist was also leaning to just diagnose autism until I said some line about the reason I try for social interaction not being because I want to but because everyone has to to be able to get what they need in life. Once she realized I see it as an irritating requirement to associate with other people - even ones I kind of like - she quickly turned on that and diagnosed both. That's why it's important to speak openly and with as much of the mask removed as possible without getting yourself in trouble. They will try and avoid labelling you with something like this unless they are 1000% sure because of its connotations and the social and professional implications of having ASPD. It is very possible to pick out which is which or if it's more than one with overlap in regards to any set of comorbidities even outside of ASPD, but it takes a lot of work for that to be done properly especially if you're still masking in front of them.

I have no issue with anyone asking just out of curiosity by the way. Seriously like I guess I see why some people feel weird about it, but genuine interest is the reason why disorders get looked into, researched, and potentially normalized and accepted. There is nothing wrong with being interested in any topic as long as you're respectful in your interactions with sensitive subjects, and this ask was completely respectful, so I'm happy to answer it./gen

Plain text below the cut:

Nothing to be sorry for!!/gen

1.) Oh yes. So very, very much yes. And honestly, it's even worse than a chore - more like if a dead-end job decided to stop paying you but you'd go to jail if you quit. If you've ever seen a kid stuck dress shopping with their mother on TV, that's the way I would like to act through every single interaction with an equal part useless and annoying but unavoidable prosocial irl. Every single non-Exception prosocial is that coworker you hate who won't leave you alone./hj Joking aside, not all prosocials are actually that annoying actually. So it kind of depends; sometimes it's fine at least for me.

2.) Yeah, I'd say so. This goes differently for all of us, but for the most part "connection formed" would probably go in the direction of an Exception, and that's where some symptoms of ASPD are lessened for those of us that have them. That includes often having some degree of effective empathy and/or a desire to work on cognitive empathy with them in particular (I use them as practice to make the necessary use of cognitive empathy less annoying with non-Exceptions). Ditto with remorse for some pwASPD, though for me in particular that depends on the Exception in question. Some still do not bring out remorse in me for whatever reason. This is a good place to note that actually, since I don't think I've mentioned this elsewhere. Exceptions do not all have to be the same even for the same pwASPD. Two friends may have different symptoms they alleviate vs don't affect vs worsen, and of course platonic vs sexual vs romantic Exceptions often vary in that as well. For me and a few other pwASPD I've met, this may also occur with some groups of people who aren't Exceptions but cause an Exception-esque response. For me, kids get that as most do other people struggling with mental health disorders beyond just depression and anxiety (nothing easy about those two it's just in our current world most people have those). If I hurt a kid's feelings, 25/10 times I am going to cry with them or force myself not to. And that will vary for each pwASPD based on how much social neurological development was completed before it was fundamentally changed and started developing antisocially too. Some of us have more empathy than others, or more remorse than others (and vice versa) in general, so that'll impact those situations too.

3.) So this depends on what you define as "seem like they don't have ASPD", though it won't be self-esteem that affects that. Generally I'd point that more in the direction of NPD. But yeah, looking at the symptoms of ASPD, there are a few specific disorders that cause someone who very much has ASPD to not be diagnosed and/or believed both professionally and personally. In personal relationships, it's honestly just not being a serial k*ller that will get most to think you don't have it. Professionally, you're looking at disorders that cause social problems (such as autism, SAD - social anxiety, and GAD - generalized anxiety), impulse control (ADHD mostly), emotional instability (bipolar disorder, IED - intermittent explosive, ODD - oppositional defiance, and yeah your other cluster b PDs).

There are others that make a whole lot less sense imo to get in the way of an ASPD diagnosis too. Schizophrenia comes to mind, with some professionals thinking that it's just... so many episodes of psychosis that it starts to look like ASPD which, don't even get me started on how much of a medical failure it is that I have heard of that specific thing happening. But mostly, it's going to be the ones I listed previously. None of these are mutually exclusive with ASPD, but they have symptoms that overlap with or mimic ASPD's, and so you'll have genuinely good professionals who are trying to avoid over/misdiagnosis where it applies to a very stigmatized disorder, and you'll have lazy ones that don't care to try and pick out which it is if not both. That will all just depend on the pwASPD's presentation of symptoms. I had more than one professional refuse to believe I had ASPD, and my (very lovely and dilligent/gen) psychiatrist was also leaning to just diagnose autism until I said some line about the reason I try for social interaction not being because I want to but because everyone has to to be able to get what they need in life. Once she realized I see it as an irritating requirement to associate with other people - even ones I kind of like - she quickly turned on that and diagnosed both. That's why it's important to speak openly and with as much of the mask removed as possible without getting yourself in trouble. They will try and avoid labelling you with something like this unless they are 1000% sure because of its connotations and the social and professional implications of having ASPD. It is very possible to pick out which is which or if it's more than one with overlap in regards to any set of comorbidities even outside of ASPD, but it takes a lot of work for that to be done properly especially if you're still masking in front of them.

I have no issue with anyone asking just out of curiosity by the way. Seriously like I guess I see why some people feel weird about it, but genuine interest is the reason why disorders get looked into, researched, and potentially normalized and accepted. There is nothing wrong with being interested in any topic as long as you're respectful in your interactions with sensitive subjects, and this ask was completely respectful, so I'm happy to answer it./gen

[queenjunothegreat]

Hi!!!!! Hello everyone!!!!!!!! I have more words for you!!!! These ones are about Wilderness-Leo being So Fucking Normal And Heterosexual About His Buff Mysterious Roommate. Get ready for a breathtaking display of hormonal teenage courtship rituals. Ahem. Also! Eleena said I have to include this message in my A/N so here you go

This Wilderness fic is WEIRD because Piper and Leo are normal, but Jason is WILDLY out of character because he's NOT Jason. He's Leo's (who's half in love with the dude) imaginations of what he COULD have been like if he was actually there. He doesn’t have ANY of the earnest kindness that Real Jason has because Leo wouldn’t be able to conceptualize that kind of earnest kindness surviving at Wilderness, much less being directed at him.

Moving on! This was, of course, written for @lost-trio-week so I am happy to share my day six contribution: Unfold Your Paper Heart (And Wear It On Your Sleeve)

“I dunno what it is about him,” Leo sighed, finally dragging his eyes off the other boy. “I’m just drawn to him, I guess. He compels me.” Piper arched her eyebrows. “Do you think he’s hot? You got a crush on him or something?” Leo considered that, and he deliberately didn’t look over at Jason again because he wasn’t really sure how long he was allowed to stare at him before it got weird. Was Jason hot? Well, obviously, and Leo knew it, seeing as he had eyes. But that wasn’t it. Not the extent of it, at least. “No, it’s more like I wanna put him in a glass jar with a stick and some leaves. And maybe pick the jar up every now and then and shake it so I can study him.” “It can never just be ‘I have a crush’ with you, can it?” Piper drawled. “You always gotta say peculiar shit.” *** Leo is trying SO hard to befriend his new roommate. It is not going as well as he'd like Lost Trio Week 2024 - Day Six: Roommates

“I just don’t get him,” Leo seethed, stabbing at what was probably meant to be salsbury steak with his plastic spoon. “He’s just so! You know?”

In response, Piper just huffed and rolled her eyes, clearly already bored of the subject. “Are you talking about Jason? Again?”

“Yes!” Leo finally managed to cut his food in half. Underneath the simultaneously thick and runny gravy, the mystery meat was an odd shade of gray that could have either been beef that was cooked beyond all salvation, or something Leo wasn’t quite ready to really think about just yet. He considered telling one of the school admins that Piper had convinced him to go vegetarian along with her. She was usually stuck with cheese or peanut butter sandwiches because there was no universe in which Wilderness was going to make her a specialized menu, but at least her food was identifiable. He dismissed the thought to focus on the task at hand. “I’ve tried everything to get through to him! I’ve tried inviting him to eat with us, I’ve cracked jokes–”

“Well, there’s your problem.”

“–I’ve even offered some of my candy to him! Nothing works!”

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up on this guy,” Piper scoffed. “He looks like he knows how to play polo.” Her tone was dismissive, but Leo would have needed to be blind to miss the way her eyes lingered on Jason’s broad shoulders before she went back to pushing her over-blanched broccoli around on her plate.

“First off: Your dad owns a plane. You are not allowed to make fun of people for being rich. That’s my job.” Leo told her matter-of-factly before he let his gaze wander over to where Jason was sitting alone, just like always. When he had first shown up a couple weeks before, everyone, especially the girls, had flocked to him, but each and every one of them was met with a hard scowl that sent them packing. At first, Leo had planned on leaving the dude to do his own thing, but three days after Jason’s arrival, the teachers had finally gotten tired of Leo and Piper rooming together. Piper just went back to having their room to herself like she had before Leo had shown up, but Leo had been buddied up with Wilderness’s newest sideshow attraction. Normally, Leo wouldn’t have bothered trying to befriend the guy, he hadn’t with any of his other classmates or any of the many, many roommates he had over the years (Piper obviously didn’t count because she was Piper) but Jason was different.

“I dunno what it is about him,” Leo sighed, finally dragging his eyes off the other boy. “I’m just drawn to him, I guess. He compels me.”

Piper arched her eyebrows. “Do you think he’s hot? You got a crush on him or something?”

Leo considered that, and he deliberately didn’t look over at Jason again because he wasn’t really sure how long he was allowed to stare at him before it got weird. Was Jason hot? Well, obviously, and Leo knew it, seeing as he had eyes. But that wasn’t it. Not the extent of it, at least. “No, it’s more like I wanna put him in a glass jar with a stick and some leaves. And maybe pick the jar up every now and then and shake it so I can study him.”

“It can never just be ‘I have a crush’ with you, can it?” Piper drawled. “You always gotta say peculiar shit.”

Leo scowled at her, his cheeks growing warm. What the hell is wrong with you? I literally just told you I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Yeah, because what you just said was super normal.”

“Actually shut up. You’re so annoying.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that if I was a foot taller and blond.”

At that exact moment, Jason looked up, and Leo realized he’d gone back to staring  at him without realizing it. Bright blue met brown from across the crowded cafeteria, and Leo was frozen in place like a rabbit in crosshairs. He held Jason’s gaze for a moment, then two, before he forced himself to look at Piper who had her eyebrows arched up near her hairline. He stuck his tongue out at her, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “Shut up.”

She rolled her eyes and stabbed a broccoli. “Whatever. Come on. We should get going if we want to avoid Tyler. Assuming you’re done gawking at Prince Charming, that is.”

Leo felt the urge to tell her that Jason was in their Spanish class and that they probably wouldn’t have to leave lunch early if Leo could figure out a way to get Jason to walk with them (or hell, even just talk to him), but he wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation that was sure to follow. Instead, he looked back at Jason, only to find Jason still staring at him from their earlier eye contact. Leo’s eyes widened and his heart thumped in his chest, and he had to swallow down a very masculine squeak. “Uh, yeah. Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

He quickly stood, hardly waiting for Piper to catch up, and made his way to the door, ignoring the weight of the gaze on his shoulders. 

*-*-*

“That’s not how you conjugate that.”

Leo smothered a shit-eating grin as Jason jolted violently and turned on him with a scowl. “What?”

“Quedar,” Leo explained, gesturing at the homework in front of him. “You have it as Vosotras quedaremas, which is just wrong. Quedar is just literally never spelled that way. Plus, you’re using the wrong pronoun; it should be Nosotras quedaremos for ‘we will remain.’ Vostras is basically ‘you guys.’”

Jason’s scowl deepened and he furiously scrubbed at the paper with his eraser with a quietly muttered, “Thanks.”

Leo sucked his teeth for a moment before saying, “You know, I can help you with that. If you want. I’m basically the only reason Piper’s passing Spanish as is. It wouldn’t be a big deal for you to sit with us when we’re studying.”

“Yeah? What makes you think you’re so good at Spanish?”

Leo barked out a bright laugh at the joke, but Jason’s scowl just deepened. “Wait, are you stupid?” Leo clapped his hands to his mouth. “That is not what I meant to say!”

Jason looked torn between his desire to laugh and his desire to deck Leo in the face. Unsurprisingly, this expression was yet another scowl. “So, what did you mean to say?”

Instead of answering that question (he didn’t have an answer he was willing to give) he answered the first one. “I speak Spanish, dude. Like, fluently. That’s how I learned to talk.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. The Valdez tacked onto my name isn’t just there for decoration.”

“Oh.” Jason blinked at him for a moment like he was rebooting. “That’s, uh, that’s cool.”

“‘Uh, that’s cool,’” Leo mocked in a stupid little voice. Jason just rolled his eyes instead of getting mad at him, though, so Leo gave him a big, toothy grin. “But, yeah. I’m basically a walking, talking Spanish dictionary, if you ever need one.”

“How do you say ‘constable’ in Spanish?”

Leo froze, wracked his brain, and then glared at Jason. “Fuck you.”

Jason just grinned at him, totally unrepentant.

Leo waved his hands around like he could knock the words out of the air. “Literally whatever, that doesn’t count. You cheated. I don’t even know what that word means in English. I’m pretty sure you made it up–”

“I definitely didn’t.”

“Anyway!” Leo shouted over Jason’s obvious amusement. “What I’m trying to say is that I can help you with your homework. If you want.”

Jason considered him for a moment, and Leo had to fight the urge to hold his breath. “What’s in it for you?”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s in it for you?” Jason repeated. “What are you getting out of this? Did someone put you up to it, or do you just want me to owe you a favor? What is it? What’s your angle?”

“Dude, what? No. Haven’t you ever heard of someone doing something nice, just to be nice?” Leo winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth, knowing from experience what a loaded question that was. Before Jason could reply, he plowed forward. “Look, I’m really, really not trying anything. If you don’t wanna, you can just say no, and I’ll drop it.”

“Yeah, because the last two weeks have shown how well you can take no for an answer.”

Leo recoiled at the words and shrank back. His fingers twitched where they were wrapped around his bicep and his eyes were trained solidly on the ground on the opposite side of the room. “Sorry.”

Jason was quiet for a moment before he sighed. “No, I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

Leo shrugged, still not looking at him. “Wasn’t wrong though, was it? I’ll leave you alone now, though. Promise. Sorry, again.”

Jason made a frustrated noise, and Leo looked up to see that he had a near-murderous scowl on his face, though this one was directed at the hands folded in his own lap. “You… don’t have to.”

Leo’s brow puckered in confusion and he tried not to let too much hope enter his tone. “Don’t have to what, man?”

“Leave me alone.”

Leo flinched at the sudden rebuke, and he clenched his jaw. “Look, I’m getting some really mixed signals from–”

“You don’t have to leave me alone,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t want you to.”

“Oh.” Leo blinked for a moment as the words finally sunk in. A grin started to slowly form on his face, and he didn’t even care that his cheeks were getting warm. “Alright. I won’t, then.”

“Right.” Jason cleared his throat, and Leo was about seventy-two percent sure that his ears were turning pink under all that fluffy blond hair. He wondered briefly how everyone in the school had been sent running from this almost bashful boy who was nervous around Leo of all people. “Um. Good.”

“Good,” Leo parrotted. He was pretty sure that all of his teeth were visible from how wide his smile was, but his heart was thumping too fast for him to pay it any mind. “You wanna start now?” Jason gave him a puzzled look, so he nodded at the homework still on the desk. “With that. No offense, but I highly doubt quedar is the only thing you managed to fuck up.”

Jason chuckled, and Leo marveled at the sound. “Yeah, okay.”

“Cool,” Leo beamed. Then he hopped up on his bed and patted the spot beside him in invitation. “Come on, dude. Take a seat. I hate studying at the desk. Are you hungry? I’m starving. Do you mind if I eat beef jerky while we study? Piper’s vegetarian, so I try not to eat it around her, which kinda sucks sometimes. I’ll even share if you say yes.”

Jason hummed contemplatively as he parsed through Leo’s word salad for a moment. He stood at the edge of Leo’s bed, just studying him, before he shrugged and climbed right on in. He settled down next to Leo, their sides pressed together from shoulder to knee in a way that made Leo almost breathless.  “I like beef jerky.”

Leo’s heart continued to do its hyperactive tap dance from before and he had to bite back a giddy little giggle. “Well then, Jason, I believe you and I will get along beautifully.”

*-*-*

This was a bad idea, Leo thought to himself as he came skidding out of the boys’ laundry room, a wide maniacal grin on his face. Piper was standing exactly where he'd stationed her as lookout, looking incredibly confused, so he grabbed her hand as he ran by, shouting, “Come On! ¡Vámonos! Move it, move it, move it!”

To her credit, she started running without question, which was good, because Tyler Dungan came barreling out into the hallway a second later, looking just as big and dumb and dangerous as always. He still had his ruined jersey in his hand, damp and dripping on the floor. When he caught sight of Leo, his face twisted up into a maroon snarl of fury. “Valdez!”

“This is what you needed the bleach and RIT dye for?” Piper shrieked, looking incredulous and almost as mad as Tyler. Leo just tipped his head back and laughed, picturing the gobsmacked expression on Tyler's face when he'd pulled the jersey out of the wash. Worth it.

The three of them ran through the halls, ignoring the shouts of teachers and the way students physically jumped out of their way. Tyler was fast, but he was also stupid and didn’t exactly have state of the art handling, so any time he got a little too close for comfort, Piper and Leo would just make a hard turn down another hall, and Tyler was left tripping over his feet in order to stop.

“Valdez, I'm gonna kill you!”

At those words, Leo's eyes lit up in challenge, and on his next step he turned with a flourish so he could start running backwards, just to be a show-off. “Ooh, you promise?” he cooed, leveling Tyler with a wide grin. “Sounds festive.”

Piper scoffed and grabbed the back of his shirt to yank him down another corridor. “We've got to lose him for good,” she panted. “We can’t keep running forever.”

“Are you kidding? This is the fun part.”

Only, the fun part was about to come to a very quick, unpleasant end, Leo realized with an awful sinking feeling. He'd known from the start that messing with Tyler Dungan was a Bad Idea, no matter how satisfying it was in the moment to knock him down a peg or two. Everyone at Wilderness was there for one delinquent reason or another, but Tyler was special, seeing as he was in for beating someone half to death over a game of pool. There was a reason Tyler basically got to do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted, and Leo and Piper, who were already on the long list of people Tyler didn’t like, had gone and poked him with a very sharp stick. And to make matters worse, in their attempts to flee, they'd taken a wrong turn. They were at a dead end. No hallways to run down, no classrooms to hide in. Just them and their certain doom. 

There's an open window, Leo thought, a little hysterically. At least we can punch our own ticket before Tyler gets the chance.

Tyler burst through the doors before Leo could offer his one suggestion, and when he saw his prey cornered at the end of the hall, he let out a victorious war cry and charged. Leo felt his heart pounding in his throat as his eyes darted around, desperately searching for an out. If it was just him, he might have been tempted to just sit back and accept whatever beating Tyler had planned for him, but he couldn’t. Not with Piper there. Piper, whose only crime was ever staying by Leo's side when everyone else on the planet would have given up on him a dozen times over.

Leo reached out to blindly grasp for Piper's hand and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it, their fingers tangling tight enough to ache. They could get out of this. Surely. Somehow. Maybe they could run around Tyler on either side of the hall. That would probably confuse him, and Leo could make sure that he ran a little closer, so if Tyler did manage to grab one of them, Piper would be the one to get away. He could do this, but he’d have to be quick. It was too late to be clever. He thought about rabbits. Of a story, spoken in a gnarled old woman’s voice, about a cocky little rabbit, hunted by coyotes and eaten because he thought he could outrun anything. He couldn’t be a rabbit. He had to—

Then Tyler's feet flew up through the air in a graceful arc as he came to a very sudden stop. He went fully horizontal before gravity finally caught up with him and he slammed into the ground, back first. His skull cracked on the tile floor hard enough that Leo could see it visibly bounce, and he was surprised at the lack of blood it left behind. 

Before Leo could even begin to wonder what the hell just happened, Jason was there. His face was twisted up into a near bestial rage as he planted his foot on Tyler's chest, and bared his teeth.

“Stay down!” he barked, glowering down at Tyler until he got a furious nod of confirmation. Then his gaze flicked over to Leo and Piper, and his expression softened. He looked them both up and down before those intense blue eyes locked on Leo’s face. “Are you two okay?”

Leo gulped, feeling a bit like he'd been pinned in place just like Tyler, before he realized that Jason wasn't going to let him go without an answer. “I— Y-Yeah. We're, um. We're good.”

Jason nodded before he knelt down on one knee and got very close to Tyler's face, though he kept his foot planted to keep Tyler where he put him. His voice got a lot quieter then, but Leo could still hear the way each snarled word dripped with threat. “If you ever even look at either of those two again, I'll fucking kill you. Do I make myself abundantly clear, Dungan?” Tyler looked furious, and for a second Leo thought he might try to fight Jason (not that Leo would put much money on him after this), but then he gave a single sharp nod. Jason smiled at him, but it looked more like bared teeth than anything remotely friendly. “Good.”

“Jason! Mr. Dungan! What is the meaning of this?”

Leo's head whipped up to see Mrs. King power walking down the hall towards them, the sharp click-click of her heels showing just how serious she was. Jason just stood, dragging Tyler to his feet along with him. “Sorry, ma'am. My friend here tripped and fell, so I was helping him up. Isn’t that right, Dungan?”

Tyler's face screwed up for a moment before he nodded. “Right,” he spat, the word sounding like venom.

Jason clapped a hand on his shoulder with an expression that would have been kind, if not for the murder in his eyes. “Better be careful, man. I'd hate for something like this to happen again. Could be even worse next time.”

Tyler snorted and shrugged out from under Jason's hold and stomped off, and Mrs. King followed close behind, saying something about the nurse’s office. Jason watched them both go for a moment before he stepped over to Piper and Leo. His features weren't angry, not at all, but his eyes were still intense as he looked them over like he didn't trust Leo's assessment from before, and Leo could only stand there and let himself be looked at. When he was done with his inspection and found them to be up to code, his gaze locked with Leo’s. “I'll see you back in our room.”

Leo nodded furiously and squeaked out, “You got it, dude. See you later.”

Jason dipped his head in acknowledgement, the gesture oddly formal like some kind of honorable knight in a fairytale movie accepting a quest from the prince or whatever. “Later, then.”

And then he was gone.

When he was completely out of sight, Leo heard Piper let out a deep, shaky breath at his side. He turned to look at her and saw that her cheeks were as red as his felt. “Okay, yeah, I get it,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “You’re allowed to be obsessed with him.”

After the adrenaline rush and the, well, everything that had just happened, Leo could only tilt his head back and laugh.

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

Cut tidbit from my Danny Phantom x Transformers au, that was too cute not to share

Ratchet groaned. His holoform was wearing a grubby Harvard sweatshirt and pj pants, his usual tidy braided bun messy and held together with pencils, a busted scrunchie around his wrist.

“Why. Are humans. SO DAMN COMPLICATED.” He moaned, looking up from his desk, his textbook leaving an indent on his protoform’s face. “I have all the information downloaded in terms of anatomy and theory and all the trivia you can imagine, can track vital signs without even touching a patient, but the surgical elements, actually doing my damn job, is the one thing I can only practice manually, and the worst part is, I have already maxed out my allotted unsupervised practice hours in the simulators for this semester. I got a warning from the dean to quote ‘stop risking your health and get some sleep’. I do sleep, I just don't need as much as humans to function. Thanks to the ground bridge, I can still do my job here. She already said that I am making the Dean’s list, whatever that is, and I am scoring in the ninety five to ninety eight range in all my assessments. However, those last five to three points evade me due to my less than stellar bedside manner. The professors even said that they are giving me undeserved slack, since my paperwork marks me as a retired army medic, but that they expect me to improve it for the next semester.”

“Ratchet. Did you just tell me that you are scoring ninety eights at one of the hardest medical colleges in the states, a premier Ivy League school, and the only thing that the professors are critiquing you on is that you are grumpy? That's a fucking incredible accomplishment for a full time student, and you have a job as the Chief Medical Officer of a whole ass army on top of it. Yes, I am aware that your current workload is smaller than usual, but you are still handling most of the paperwork on top of school work and making sure these tin cans don't die in the process. My man, take a goddamn bow, the fact that you still have the energy to complain is incredible.

“Yeah Ratch, just getting into an Ivy is a huge achievement, nevermind keeping near perfect grades.” Jack said.

“Hey, considering that my dream of working at NASA is out the door, it's nice to see someone I know going places.”

“Uh uh, I said that you aren't going to Nashville by yourself, not that you can't consult for NASA long distance under a pseudonym.”

“But I wanted to use the big telescopes and touch moon rocks! There were moon rocks, Ratchet!”

“And I want to not hear whiny children, but I guess neither of us are going to get what we want.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at Ratchet before disappearing into a wall.

Ratchet rolled his eyes, cracking a small smile as Optimus chuckled. :How are your wards always the sassy ones.:

:What do you mean, mine? You see more of him in a day than I do in a week, not for a lack of trying.:

:you are always checking in with the rbs and their liaison.:

: it's the only time I get to be a dinosaur because you don't like it :

: it eats through your fuel supply and erodes your joints. It's not good for you :

: But it's so cool.:

: remind me again how you managed to convince me to be your Amica?:

: By being your best and only friend since we were sparklings until you went to medical school. :

: Fair.:

The fic in question, updated today:

[tilebytiles]

star treatment - a.t. (part 5)

summary: there’s a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life. word count: 3.8k warnings: none part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

your time on the moon was almost over.

with the close of your galactic journey came a bittersweet feeling; you’d had a lot of fun at the hotel. although you neglected the casino aspect (you’d never been much of a gambler and didn’t intend to start), you took multiple dips in the pool, perused the library countless times, and even ventured into the gym once or twice. the fitness jungle was intimidating, so you only really used the treadmill, but it was still something. you’d gotten to talk to alexa and miles a lot more, and they both agreed to keep in touch with you once you were all back on earth.

the person you’d miss the most, though, was alex.

you hadn’t seen much of him over the last few days, despite your stay being extended; james had been sent back to earth prematurely, and a round trip for the rocket was at least six days, so you were more or less stuck up there until further notice. although alex’s glances towards you had become more tender, his touches more like caresses, his words spoken in a soft tone he didn’t use with anyone else, you hadn’t spoken much to each other since your impromptu sleepover. you were hesitant to ask him about it; you yearned for his attention, but you also understood how it might look if he was suddenly doting on you every hour of every day. you’d be proving james right, more or less. you would rather step out the airlock than do that.

you also knew talking to each other once you got back home wouldn’t really be an option; he told you once that he’d open the hotel to the public within the next month, meaning his attention would be entirely consumed by his project. you would return to your regular job, and he would remain an unfinished canvas, a story never to be completed. would he even come to the café anymore? would he want anything to do with you?

"what's got you all worked up?" you jumped at the sound of miles' voice and whipped around. he was leaning against the doorway of your room, his arms crossed over his chest and his left eyebrow cocked up.

your own eyebrow rose at his question. "i'm not worked up. i'm just standing here."

"you get worked up in your own ways," he said with a shrug. "you tend to zone out. in this case, i've been here for nearly three minutes trying to get your attention, and you've just been starin' at the clothes you've got on the bed."

you cringed at the mental image his words painted in your head. "sorry. i'm just thinking."

"about what?" when you didn't answer and instead looked back down at the clothes — the tee, joggers and socks you hadn't worked up the courage to give back to alex yet — realisation seemed to hit miles like a truck. "oh. about al?"

miles was the only one that had approached you directly about whether or not there was anything between you and alex. alexa had taken a more subtle approach, nudging you with her elbow and winking whenever alex smiled at you in passing, but miles had been much more direct, his curiosity regarding your relationship coming in the form of an abrupt "are you shaggin' him?" over lunch one day. you told him no repeatedly, probably so much so that it could be read as yes. you didn't dare allude to what had really happened between the two of you, but you were honest with him in admitting there was something there. something you both felt.

"why don't you just talk to him?" his words dragged you back to the present.

you sighed. "i wish it was that easy," you mumbled. "but what am i supposed to say? for all i know, i might just be some fling of his."

miles barked out a laugh at that. "you're kiddin', right? he's bloody obsessed with you."

"he could just be playing it up."

"y/n," he said, his voice taking on a much more serious tone, "if alex was fuckin' around with you this whole time, i would seriously harm him. that's a major 'if', though. i've never known him to be that kind of person, and neither has alexa. he isn't the type to toy with someone else's feelings."

a voice rang out from somewhere down the hall. "hey, miles, have you seen my camera?" it was alexa.

miles sighed and offered you one final sympathetic glance. "i mean it," he said softly. "right now, i think you're the last person he'd think of leavin' behind." and with that, he left your room, shouting down the hall about how he hadn't seen alexa's "bloody fuckin' camera".

you looked back down on the clothes you'd neatly laid out on top of the bed. you'd been planning to give them back that day, actually, but every time you finally worked up the courage to do it, you quickly convinced yourself it would be a bad idea. you hated how insecure you suddenly felt; you were positive that even if alex was obsessed with you, someone better would come along. someone more deserving of his obsession and unwavering affection. the more desperate side of you wanted to believe miles, but the more rational side of you knew that whatever existed between you and alex right now would be gone as soon as you set foot back on earth and returned to your routine lives.

your time on the moon was almost over, and you hated it.

•••••

miles had delivered the clothes in your stead. now that they were finally out of sight, out of mind, you found yourself laying face-up in the pool, staring at the vast expanse of stars above you. the water was cold, uncomfortably so, but you didn't care; you just needed to think. you needed something else to focus on, something that wasn't the man with the heavenly northern accent and the well-kept goatee and the shoulder-length hair that was always an elegant mess and the crisp suits and the smile that could charm god. you felt a little pathetic, if you were being honest with yourself — this time, you didn't do that as reluctantly. maybe self-degradation came to you a little too naturally. technically, you'd known alex for months, but it was mostly his existence you knew of, not who he really was. well, that and his favourite kind of coffee. still, that didn't really tell you much about the kind of person he was. knowing he liked his coffee burning hot didn't tell you his favourite colour or favourite food. knowing his surprising disdain for pumpkin spice lattes didn't tell you his favourite book or his hobbies. knowing the only pastry in the display case that he ever ordered (on the rare occasion he did order something besides coffee) was the pain au chocolat didn't tell you his middle name, his hometown, his favourite music, his dreams as a child, the things he was nitpicky about, his favourite animal, his greatest fear, how he wanted his body to be dealt with when he died, or whether or not he'd seen blade runner.

you would be lying if you said you hadn't imagined his response to all of those things before. you guessed his favourite colour might have been something like orange or yellow. his favourite food was something savoury, no doubt; he never struck you as the type to have much of a sweet tooth. his favourite book was definitely one of the classics. his hobbies had to be reading (that was an easy one), perhaps writing, maybe even playing an instrument. his middle name was something prim and proper, his hometown was somewhere like newcastle, his favourite music was the oldies, his dreams as a child were to be an astronaut in space, he was nitpicky about his appearance and having everything in perfect order, his favourite animal was something predictable like a dog, his greatest fear was being forgotten, he wanted to be cremated upon death, and he had most certainly seen blade runner and would consider it criminal for anyone else not to have. those were all just guesses, though, and you knew some of them were probably painfully inaccurate. but you didn't think you would ever get the answers.

somewhere nearby, you heard a door open and then close, and for a brief moment, it dragged you out of the monotonous trance you'd placed yourself in. you quickly slipped back into your lull, though, continuing to stargaze and letting the water around you prick at your skin, giving you goosebumps. you didn't notice the door to the changing room shut, nor did you notice the small splash that accompanied the unidentified individual lowering themselves into the water. you were beginning to think you were perfectly content with staying in that pool forever when the water around you began to rock and bob, bouncing you with it. a figure came into your periphery, and the small glimpse you got made you turn your head, water instantly flooding into your right ear. alex was wading beside you, casting small ripples into the pool water as he stroked his arms across the surface, keeping himself afloat. you slowly turned your head back to its previous position, feeling the water dribble out of your ear as you continued stargazing.

he was the first to speak, and you hated how your heart lurched at the sound of his voice, as if it would burst from your chest and wait for him to take it. "you've been avoiding me."

his voice remained neutral, but the underlying hurt in his words was glaringly obvious. "i wasn't trying to," you said quietly. "there just haven't been chances for us to talk."

"that's bullshit, y/n, and you know it."

you shifted and struggled in the water for just a moment before assuming the same wading position he was in. for a few seconds, ones that suddenly felt uncomfortably long, all you could do was stare at him. his expression was neutral, too, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. they always had. you were reminded of the quote about the eye being the window to the soul. "i'm sorry," you finally said.

he let out a small scoff and looked down at the water between you. "at least tell me why."

"i can't."

"why not?"

"because you'll think it's stupid."

"what's stupid is thinking i'll think it's stupid." his gaze darted back up to meet yours, and you could tell he was having a difficult time keeping himself contained. you were reminded of the look of anger he'd had the night of the party, and how horribly it contrasted with his features. you didn't think he was built to be angry, and you hated the thought that you were making him feel anything close to that.

you sighed and tilted your head back to look up at the stars again. not looking him directly in the eye made it easier to confess what had been weighing you down so much recently. "i'm scared you'll forget me, alex."

silence followed, then, "what?"

"you're going to get famous because of this hotel. you have to know that. you won't have time for me anymore, which is fine because i'm just the girl that made your coffee, anyway. even if you did have time, there's a chance some other girl will come along that's way better than me in every aspect. she'll be prettier, nicer, more successful, more important. i won't even be jealous of her, because i'll know she'll be far more deserving of your attention than i am. you'll fall in love with her and forget about me and i'll force myself to move on and maybe, eventually, i'll fall in love with someone else, too."

more silence punctuated your words, but this time, alex didn't fill it with objections or utterances of confusion. although you were staring up into space, from the very bottom of your line of sight, you could tell he was still staring at you. his mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if he was struggling to think of exactly what to say. you didn't blame him; how could you? you'd just dumped an absolute boatload on him.

it felt like an eternity had passed before he tried to form an answer for you. “i could never forget you, even if i wanted to.”

slowly, your head lowered again, and you stared at him, unsure of what to say in response. now it was your turn to be stunned into silence. you looked off to the side, then at the edge of the pool behind him, then back at him. “why?”

he sighed and ran a wet hand through his hair. “the first time i saw you,” he began slowly, “i was ready to worship the ground you stood on. you might think yourself to be plain, y/n, but in less than a few weeks, you became my whole world, only leaving enough space for …” he gestured around the two of you, his eyes widening a bit, much as they always did when he wanted to emphasise something.

your brows knitted together at his confession. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i was well aware i’d sound mental,” he said bluntly, dropping his arms back into the water with a small splash. “because i knew you’d think i was a creep. i was obsessed, and i felt guilty for that, even if i wasn’t tryin’ to stalk you or anything.”

you considered his words. although you wanted to deny it to make him feel better, you knew he was right; you probably would’ve told your manager if one of the customers tried to confess his undying love to you. “but …” you trailed off, trying to think of what to say next. your gaze dropped to the water again. “who’s to say you still feel that way, now that you know me?”

he let out a short laugh. “fuckin’ hell, y/n. you’re quite stubborn, aren’t you?” when you didn’t respond, he continued. “when i told you how i felt the night of the party, i meant it,” he said quietly. “i wasn’t lying to you or trying to comfort you. i’ve always had feelings for you, and as far as i’m concerned, i always will. nothing will change that.”

you didn’t say anything and looked away a little shamefully. you felt a bit silly for being so doubtful up to this point; it was clear alex liked you, a lot. he called it an obsession, but you didn’t know if it really was as dramatic as he was making it out to be or if he was so inexperienced that having feelings for anyone qualified as being madly in love. then again, he’d never struck you as the inexperienced type … quite the opposite, really, especially when you considered the ease with which he’d eaten you out.

alex seemed to pick up on your remorse. he let out another sigh before saying, “let’s get out of here, yeah? i don’t know about you, but i’m fuckin’ freezing.”

the two of you clambered out of the pool, heading into one of the changing rooms to dry off as best you could and wrapping yourselves up in robes. you’d have to shower later, you thought to yourself. you wondered if you could shower with alex, and the mere thought tinted your cheeks a light shade of pink. although you didn’t vocalise any of your thoughts, he seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, for he entwined his hand with yours and said, “shall we go to my room?” all you could do was nod.

inside his room, things were the same as they’d been the last time you were in there. you followed him into the bathroom, watching as he gently shut and locked the door before turning to face you. he offered you a small smile, a gesture that made you feel comfortable enough to shed your robe and strip out of your bikini. he followed suit, letting his robe and his swim trunks hit the floor in a circle of damp fabric around him. you refused to let your gaze wander to any part of his body that wasn’t his face, and at the sheer effort that seemed to take on your part, he couldn’t help but laugh.

one of the things that scared you the most about taking a shower with another person was the possibilities. as alex turned on the water and tested it a couple of times, making sure it was warm enough before stepping inside with you following suit, your mind immediately jumped to the possibility of alex rearranging your insides against the shower wall. did that idea come into your head a bit too eagerly? yes. were you embarrassed by it? 100%. would you ever tell alex you had that idea? fuck no. were you a little scared of it happening because alex was the only man that had ever touched you and you weren’t even sure if you’d like having sex? absolutely.

to your surprise (and perhaps relief), though, nothing of the sort happened. alex let you shampoo his hair first, letting out small sounds of contentment as you massaged his scalp. you worked slowly, not wanting this moment between the two of you to end anytime soon. once his hair was adequately shampooed, he washed the suds out of his hair, then grabbed the bottle off the shelf and squeezed some into his hand. he snapped it shut on his wrist, set it back down, then began massaging the apple-scented shampoo into your own hair. you didn’t have to lean down like he did, considering you were shorter than him and he could access your scalp much easier than you could his.

you two had been in a rather comfortable silence, and he was the first to break it, although not jarringly so. “d’you like cookies?”

a small laugh erupted from you. “who doesn’t?”

“fair point,” he mumbled. “i was just askin’ because the café made too many yesterday, and i was gonna steal some for you.”

“well, what kind are they?”

“chocolate chip. close your eyes.” alex seized the shower head, and you quickly did as you were told, feeling the water and shampoo rush down against your head. every so often, the water would hit your hairline, and it tickled. as he worked, he continued talking, although the torrent made it a bit harder to hear him. “i might steal a dozen, then we can split ‘em.”

when he finally pulled the shower head away from you, you reached up to dry your eyes. “bold of you to assume i would share.”

“ah, well …” he looked off to the side, then back down at you, his hands settling on his hips. “you’re talking to the hotel owner, so i don’t think you have much of a choice.”

“it’s a bit cruel of you to use your position against me.”

he merely hummed in response, unable to hide the smile your words generated, and grabbed the bottle of conditioner.

the rest of the shower went smoothly, and you were a little sad when it ended. it was, arguably, the most intimate you’d ever gotten with him. you two had helped each other wash, and gradually, you became less shy about touching each other. it made you realise something; you’d been viewing this kind of physical contact as sexual for an embarrassingly long time, but now that it was happening, it wasn’t sexual at all. you regretted the lewd circumstances your mind had tried to frame a shared shower in.

you’d gotten dressed following your shower, and now you found yourself back in alex’s bed. this time, he was laying with his cheek pressed against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. on occasion, his fingers would begin to tap out the rhythm against your sides, although they’d stop a few seconds later. your own fingers worked absentmindedly through his hair, and at some point, you’d begun to work on a small braid. you didn’t think he could feel it; if he did, he didn’t say anything. it would be amusing to see him discover it later.

his voice was a low rumble, and you got the idea he was more tired than he let on. “thank you.”

your fingers halted their movements. “for what?”

“for existing.”

those two words made you want to cry, and you had to force yourself to blink back tears. you worked more urgently on his braid, trying to keep yourself distracted, but this meant he could feel you tugging at his hair now. his head lifted from your chest, and his expression softened into one of understanding as he shifted his body upwards and pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, catching tears that weren’t there. “i mean it,” he murmured. “and … thank you for giving me a chance.”

that brought out the waterworks, and the tears, hot and heavy, poured from your eyes before you could stop them. his hands left your sides and came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. he kissed your forehead, your nose, and then your lips, lingering there longer than the rest. when he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “stay with me.”

your eyes widened a little. “what?”

“stay with me,” he repeated. “help me manage the hotel. or … hell, if you don’t want a thing to do with this, i understand, just —” he sighed and screwed his eyes shut. “stay in my life,” he whispered. “please.”

he didn’t have to ask that of you. the answer would always be yes. in a million universes, a million more lifetimes, the endless aisles of circumstances that were lined up neatly in the library of what could have been, you would always follow him. maybe in one world, you would meet as a biker / florist duo. in another, he’d be a dazzling musician, and you’d be an awestruck photographer. in another, he might be a damn vampire, trying to navigate the world without being killed and while shunning the daylight and wearing sunglasses positively everywhere. he could be some eldritch horror, and you would still follow him to the ends of the earth. you knew that even if you were under a horribly strong curse, he would always find a way to break it. he would always find a way to make sure you could follow him. “of course i will,” you whispered in reply. “always.”

his eyes slowly peeled open, and he managed a soft smile at you, kissing you once more. “the day after you stole my heart,” he murmured against your lips, “everything i touched told me it’d be better shared with you.”

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @not-a-big-slay

[bluechissbrain]

The wave-particle duality of the self in highly masked autism

I don't post my thoughts here often but here goes

With my involvement in disability advocacy and love for neuroscience and psychology reading (I'm working on my PhD in neuroscience), I don't know why it took me this long to finally read "Unmasking Autism" by Dr. Devon Price, but I finally did. I think I would recommend it for anyone interested in neurodiversity, especially for those new to the idea of themself as a potentially autistic person.

It's full of great stories, information, and advice. For me personally, I felt struck with the realization that the people-pleasing mask I have worn all my life to be as successful as I am goes much deeper than smothering my outwardly autistic traits or even the internalized ableism and other deep underlying struggles that I work on with my therapist.

My "self" is like a photon.

When I'm being observed, I exist in particle form whether I like it or not. I have an idea of what kind of person I am or at least the message/aesthetic I am putting out to the people around me. There's something concrete to who I am and what I'm doing. It doesn't have to be direct observation either; working on something that I know others will see or grade is also sufficient to draw me into some reality or some idea of what my goals and values are.

When I'm not being observed, then I'm the wavelength, suddenly non-corporeal. Untethered. I behave differently. I don't follow the same rules. Maybe that's partially being unmasked. Maybe it's partially internalized ableism that I don't like being in this state. But I find myself seeking external observation to be able to interact with my self concept and the physical world, or else I get stuck inside my head. It's paralyzing.

I need to work on projects that can be assessed or seen by others. I need my husband in the room while I do basic tasks around the house. I need to have in-person events or meetings to attend where I can think about how I want to present myself in order to conceptualize what I look like.

Here I am, typing this out here where I know other people might see it, so I can enter particle-mode just enough to put my feelings into words.

There are many things I know help me and make me feel better (yoga, brushing my teeth, etc.) when my mental health is low, but the moment I am unobserved and attempting to do these things at home, the moment I am alone with only my own thoughts, it feels impossible to do anything that involves physically operating my flesh mech.

I'd like to think I have strong values and strong ideas of where I would like to go in my life. But does that constitute who I am? How do allistic people have a sense of who they are? Do autistic people who don't mask so strongly have a sense of selfhood outside of the observation of other people? Do other formerly high-masking autistic people have any advice or relate to this metaphor?

I'm sure growing up in a very rigid environment that discouraged self-exploration as a teen doesn't help with this issue. But I can't help but feel a deep concern that it's too late for me to do the exploration it would take to figure out who I am. I'm an adult with a serious job and serious relationships. And the people in my life have a defined idea of what kind of person I am.

It's exhausting to be so tired and stressed by interacting with others, but yet needing to be observed by others to be able to interact with myself and be productive. Neurodivergent communities (and my amazing neurodivergent husband) have been helpful for this because they are less exhausting to interact with, but still: I want to know who I am when no one else is around.

Maybe the fact that I even care enough to try to find out means I'm headed in the right direction.

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 3: That Was the First Time I Lost Her

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It only takes a little digging.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: More angst, insinuations of creep behavior, making shit up about Westworld, a million questions and no answers, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Sugar's got some soul-searching to do, and there are very few people who can help her with that. Where Cognitive Dissonance had a lot more Westworld characters in it, this series is gonna have a few cameos from Kingsman characters and you better believe this is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

It takes you three weeks before you say anything about Jack to anyone. Three weeks of going back and forth from your job, sitting in front of the large glass screen your work is projected on. Three weeks of seeing the world you live in - advanced far beyond Sweetwater’s rustic charm - in a new light, knowing there’s someone living in it that feels so out of place. Now, you feel out of place too. 

In that time you argue with yourself back and forth over what happened that fateful morning.

He’s a delusional man who violated your trust.

But he didn’t act delusional. Didn’t try to push you to come with him, didn’t try to get your number or find out where you live. He gave you a way to contact him, but didn’t press when you didn’t promise to.

But how did he find you?

That thought twists your stomach. Had he used some database to scour personal records for you? Had he been trailing you and you never even noticed? It clearly didn’t go to plan for him, but what had he planned? 

He wants to “explain.”

The most you would do is call him. Only to tell him to be prepared for a lawsuit. Maybe to scream at him a little more about how violated you felt. Definitely not because you want to know what he could possibly say to make this make sense.

Why are you entertaining this?

This is where you always come to a halt. You can reason around most of your internal arguments, make good decisions that would make your parents proud, but it’s when you get to this question - why are you still thinking about this? - that you falter. 

Because his plea - let me explain - and the furtive way he looked at you - I am a host - tug at something you hid away for the year since you saw him. That there was something more to Jack, but not this obvious of a betrayal. 

I didn’t get to tell you something that night. Something important. 

He tried to tell you something that day on the train platform. What was it?

I was a coward, and I wanted you more than anything Sugar. 

He was going to tell you he loved you. And it was going to shatter your heart to hear it, so you showed him the photograph. Because it would hurt less to prove him a fantasy. You forced him to reveal the machine behind the man, because he was going to tell you he loved you.

Right?

But if this is the last moment I get to say it before you leave my sight, I have to. 

I need you to know.

Was this it?

It’s Dina that helps you gain some clarity, though not in a way you imagined.

“I had my trip to Westworld refunded, ruined my whole vacation,” she says nonchalantly over lunch. The “cool bridesmaids” actually stuck together after the bachelorette, and you see Dina every few months for a boisterous lunch and catch-up. This particular revelation, two weeks after Jack sauntered into your life and left you with a handful of mirror shards for memories, makes you choke on your drink. 

“You were going back?” you finally ask once you can breathe again. Dina smiles knowingly, swirling her iced matcha latte loudly in her glass. 

“I’ll admit, it’s pretty fun. Only went once since the party, it’s damn expensive, but I was really looking forward to my third visit. Sounds like there’s some operational issues.” You listen with as much nonchalance as you can muster, but Dina smiles coyly at your ruse. “Didn’t see your man there last time. Maybe he was just for you.” 

You scoff, a clammy sweat on the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your arms.

“They probably rotate them,” you say weakly, thumb smearing away a drip of coffee from the lip of your cup. 

“Listen, baby, maybe this isn’t my business, but if Jack still gets you this fired up, it might be worth talking to someone about it,” she says gently. Your heart leaps into your throat, worrying that your face has given it all away.

“What, like a therapist?” you laugh, trying to put on a bright smile but you’re practically thrumming now. Dina scoffs instead.

“Hell no, my girl Ginger. She used to work for Delos, doing…programming or something. One conversation with her will definitely ruin the magic for you. Like seeing Mickey without his head on in Disneyland.” You both giggle at the image, trying to school yourself into a calm that won’t betray how close to the truth she is.

“She left on bad terms, so she’ll tell you the truth about shit. Doesn’t care about her NDA, or much else for that matter. She’s a badass,” Dina says, scrolling through her phone and typing quickly. “Ask her your questions, get your dreams dashed, and move the fuck on.” Dina means well, but the worry gnawing in your stomach draws much of your attention away.

Former Delos staff could definitely tell her if Jack was a host, or a fucked-up guest, or a host based off a guest that is now playing a terrifying game of switcheroo. 

“Promise she won’t think it’s weird?”

“She loves to dish about it, you’ll be making her week.”

Ginger doesn’t want to meet in a public place - I’ve seen a little too much of what can be done to risk it - so she invites you to her condo instead. You almost back out, shame and nerves getting to you, but the need to know grows at a greater pace. So, bringing two coffees and pastries (not from the shop where you saw Jack, you don’t think you could go back there), you climb her third floor walkup.

She’s business chic with a dazzling smile, a collared shirt under a sweater with dark-washed jeans. Her hair is spiked through with honeyed highlights that compliment her brown skin. A pair of serious horn-rimmed glasses frame her face, but look fresher on her than any academic. 

“Hi, I’m Dina’s friend,” you start as Ginger leads you into her home. Dina mentioned she was a programmer, and her design aesthetic screams “I care more about my processor chips than artwork.” Stacks of hard drives on tables, large manuals of computer code on shelves, all neat and tidy in a controlled chaos way. She brings plates for the croissants as you sit at her table, rolling your opening remarks in your mind as she settles across.

I had a strange experience in Westworld that made me question everything. Can you tell me if I’m crazy or not?

Before you get the chance Ginger speaks. 

“Dina told me a bit about your situation,” she says simply, regarding you with rapt attention and sparking intelligence. The confusion must have slapped across your face, because Ginger barks out a laugh just shy of impolite. “I made her spill the beans, I’m too suspicious otherwise.” 

You sigh audibly, covering your face with your hands.

“Great, now I’m just pitiful,” you bemoan, joining in on the laughter. Slouching back in your chair, you share a look that radiates I guess we’re here now.

“So, you had questions about hosts. Maybe one in particular. I haven’t worked for Delos in a few years, but I’ll do my best to help. God knows those assholes keep their mouths shut tighter than their assholes,” Ginger says, waiting for you to lay out your questions. So many bubble up, but you let the most important come to the forefront:

“How can you tell a host is a host?”

Ginger’s smile turns conspiratorial, cocking her head to one side.

“One really got to you, huh? Made you think he - or she - was real?” 

You twist your hands in your lap, shoulders tensing for laughter.

“It’s silly, right? A host is a host and a person is…completely different.”

Ginger talks as she darts around the room, gathering items - a laptop from a desk, a silver and orange hard drive, a handful of cords. She gestures with her hands while she speaks, face softening with the passion that shines through,

“It’s a testament to how well we programmed them. They’re supposed to trick you, keep you in the illusion. I was more in design and aesthetics, moved into expressive programming before they culled my team.” When she catches your eye, the first etchings of confusion on your face, she backtracks. “I designed the exteriors - faces, bodies, you know - before I moved into writing code for their facial expressions and body language. Cram years of what we as humans would observe and develop over a lifetime into a little computer chip. They learn too, just not the same sorts of things. They’re designed to interpret our body language, give us what we need before we think we need it.”

What had Jack read from your body?

Ginger plops down at the table, fingers moving quickly over the keys and eyes trained on the glowing screen. 

“But Delos axed my team, said something about ‘new coding avenues,’ the assholes. Just didn’t want to pay us if they could automate us. But!” She hits the last key and folds her arms, finally looking at your nervous posture. “They didn’t pay me well enough for my IP, so I took everything I could get my hands on. Most of it’s too outdated for them to care about, but I’m pretty goddamn proud of it.”

She motions for you to sit on the same side of the table as her, waiting until you’re settled to drag a window onto the screen. It looks like tiny image thumbnails all neatly stacked, face after face scrolling by.

“So who is it?”

You steel yourself for whatever answer may come next.

“Jack Daniels.”

Waiting for a confused noise, for a bad search return, for some reason to hate the man who came back to you, instead you get a knowing laugh.

“Ah, I’m pretty proud of that one,” she says, typing in Jack’s name and pulling up a profile. “I was going through a very dashing cowboy phase, wanted something a little Burt Reynolds, a little Robert Conrad, flirtatious but a disaster at it, smooth talker.” As she talks she tabs through sketches, achingly beautiful pencil drawings of his hawkish nose, the pout of his lower lip, the tilt of his head up to look at something. 

“Then fucking Sizemore dumped him in that shitty Golden Circle timeline, which was a goddamn waste. Gave him a terribly written, cliched backstory and half-assed his motivation to make a shockingly underthought double cross villain arc seem edgy.” Ginger pauses on a dystopic photo, Jack standing in a glass and concrete cube, hand on his jutted hip and a smile you’ve been in the path of aimed right into the camera. You can almost hear his voice.

You can have all the Whiskey you want.

“Our cowboy deserved better than that,” she sighs. Managing to break from your reverie, you try not to stumble too badly through the most important questions.

“And he’s not…based on anyone else? There’s no Jack lookalike wandering the streets?” You try to make it airy, joking, unsure of your success. Thankfully Ginger skims right over the tremor in your voice, tapping into a file that details every scar and freckle over the expanse of his skin.

“If only. Unfortunately, the best men are designed by women. I’ve never met someone quite like Jack.”

Neither have you, and the implication settles heavy in your chest. 

You spent an hour more with Ginger, peeking into the secret workings of Delos and picking at flaky pastries without appetite. It’s more out of politeness than interest. Half of the things she shows you flow right through your consciousness and into the ether. 

Jack is a host. 

From the mouth of his…creator? Herself?

Maybe that combination of features could find its way in nature, but not his story, or the intimate details you both know in very different contexts. The groove she drew in his lower lip pulled softly across your stomach. The graphite glint in his eyes lifting to capture yours. The thick strokes that built a hand you’d felt hold your face so gently. 

Ginger knew him as well as you did, certainly more so, and there was no better explanation for what this means. 

He’s not a man. So what is he doing here? How is he here, in a world you never thought he could enter? 

Thanking Ginger for her hospitality and her patience, you take the longest way home possible. The rhythmic beat of your feet on concrete lets you ruminate. The air is warm across your cheeks, errant breezes dancing around your aimless path. The “park” has never been your favorite place to soul search, the lack of trees and tightly governed shrubs clashing against what you consider wilderness. Today, however, it’s so stark and blank as to clear your mind.

If not a host in a world built for pleasure, what is Jack? How can he survive in this world without a narrative, a directive, a fucking charging port for his battery? Does he run on batteries or did they slap a solar panel in that gorgeous head of hair?

Dropping onto a bench you bury your face in your hands, fighting the urge to laugh madly. You've seen under the facade and now you’re left with even more questions, and there’s only one person who can answer those. 

“Jack Daniels.”

“Hi. It’s…”

“Hey. It’s…it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“I didn’t know if you would at all, after all that.”

“I wasn’t sure either.”

There’s a pause while you gather courage, but Jack jumps in first.

“Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last time. I saw you and I meant to sneak out before you saw me, but…it was just a perfect mess, huh?”

Right to the meat of it then. Somehow that makes it easier.

“Did you know I would be there?”

Another silence, but you wait for this one to end. Jack sighs heavily, and your body aches.

“I knew you could be there.”

“And you were…what? Waiting to get up the courage to talk to me?”

“Something like that.” Jack sucks in a breath. “I had some questions of my own. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers.”

This admission dazes you. All Jack knew of you in Westworld was a lie. The footing feels more even knowing he’s just as trepidatious as you. 

You sigh deeply, pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead.

“I think I should let you explain.”

A softer sigh tickles your ear.

“I’d really like to do that, Sugar.”

You scoff.

“You still call me that.”

“Sweetest thing I’ve…”

“Please, Jack. Don’t. Not right now.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not…I’m not sure how I feel about everything yet. This is all frankly terrifying to me, and I need some time to understand it.”

“I understand. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the same rodeo as before.”

Lips curling up, you warm to his words. Same old west charm. Same teasing lilt. 

Same old Jack, but maybe more than you thought.

“Can I see you Friday?”

PREVIOUS NEXT

[justleaveacommentfest]

it's hard to pick a favorite from her, but my wife writes THE MOST amazing comments. it's 100% sentimentality, but the best comment I've gotten from her is the 4-part (yes she hit the character limit that many times) comment on the last chapter of my longest work. I couldn't share the entire thing (though I really really want to) so a highlight:

I am very normal about this fic as you’ve known. The pandemic got me stuck in my soulless retail job where I had to be up at 3am for that 8 hour grind—it was exhausting. I had no energy to do anything ever, and even less motivation when my days off rolled around. But then atone came back to life!! And it was something fun to look forwards to! It was something I would reread on my breaks at work because it made me so happy! And while it was so hard for me to do art between all that exhaustion, atone got me some motivation. It was at least getting me to do SOME drawing and painting even if it was just pumping straight through something in an hour and sending it to you. AND EVEN WHEN THEY WERE REAL STINKERS, THEY AT LEAST MADE YOU HAPPY!!!! That’s what we call community baby. I did hardly any art work 2021. I was so blasted tired but at least I had ATONE to keep me going. I love this type of content and I love YOU. You’re the best and I’m so glad we get to chat now :)

with no exaggeration her enthusiasm made the fic 11x longer than I ever intended it to be. i really wanted to break it off early and just consider it done but her comments got me thinking about the fic more and more and pushed me to really put the time in for it. her comments got us talking and now we get to inspire each other with projects and create TOGETHER! she's the best 🥰🥰

THIS IS ADORABLE OMFG 😭😭😭😭

[softseaside]

It’s finally time for my art summary and I decided to throw my art vs artist 2024 in here as well! I also made two alternative versions for the art summary and art vs artist thing because…well…I think these summarize my 2024 perfectly sdkjskdj

I’m always really thrilled to make these art summaries at the end of the year and reflect on how the year went down. One of my main goals for 2024 was to finally launch the first chapter of my webcomic. Unfortunately, I got some health problems in the beginning of the year and after that, I started to dm my very first D&D campaign and…well…accidentally got obsessed with Blauauge, one of the OCs of the campaign that I completely lost focus on all my art goals skdjskdjsd

Homeboy ruined my 2024, made me forgot to work on my comic and made me start drawing sm*t ksjdskdjsd Jokes aside, DMing is really fun and made me try a lot of new things and expand my creativity. Artwise, 2024 was really, really fun for me, I forgot how much fun it is to be completely immersed in something and I just had so many ideas and thoughts and feelings and love about this blue tiefling.

While I’ve struggled a lot in the beginning (and still do) because I felt super cringe and ashamed to be so obsessed with a character no one knows/cares about, I slowly started to understand that I’ve always been doing art for myself and only for myself and that’s what I like most about art. It’s okay that not everyone is as hyped as me about my OC and the most important thing is that I have fun. Nontheless, I’m super thankful that people actually started to be interested in him so thanks everyone for sticking up with my unhinged OC brainrot 🫶💙 Let’s see how long it will stay since my mini campaign will end soon and we’ll continue our main D&D campaign again. So maybe 2025 we will finally be free of the blue himbo tiefling lmao.

Blauauge brainrot aside, this year I was able to gather a lot of experiences at tabling at artist alleys (8 in total!!!). I had so much fun, I learned so, so much and I met some really cool people and even made some friends. It was truly an amazing experience and I feel like I grew alot. That being said, I also realized that being a convention artist is EXTREMELY time-consuming and takes a lot of energy. Combined with my full-time job and dming, I barely had time for my other creative projects like my comic or my youtube channel and I feel so exhausted.

Looking at my goals from last year, I achieved one of them (attending more artist alleys) but for the other goals, I completely neglected youtube and I don’t feel ready for an art shop at all RIP + I really wanted be better at the fundamentals and I guess I got a bit better at anatomy because of Blauauge (and Blauauge sm*t) so I guess that kinda fits LMAO?? I also start putting more effort into backgrounds for my comic and I’m thinking more about composition while drawing but it’s still a long way for me and I really have to actively study because I feel like I’m at a step in my art journey again where I feel kinda stuck. However, something that really surprised me is that put a lot of my attention on my coloring and I find it way more enjoyable than last year. Also, just a side note, but I’m halfway done with my internship/apprentinceship and I am kinda proud of how much I’vee improved at graphic design and my branding, hehe.

Next year, I’ll TRY (lmao) to attend less conventions. I’m also on a good track working on my comic again SO THIS YEAR, I PROMISE TO GET THAT FIRST CHAPTER DONE!! and I’ll also try to make another youtube video again and maybe even start livestreaming? (no promises lol)

Thanks for liking my art and wishing you all lots of energy for 2025! 💙✨

[villainintern]

A compiled FAQ of things people are commonly curious about. ⬇️

(For the TL,DR short answers- skim the bolded words!)

Will I be able to save my game?

Absolutely. The next demo update will be exported to HTML- so you'll have checkpoints, and it'll autosave in your browser.

How often will the demo update?

As fast as I can write it, every few months on average! This is a passion project of mine, I'm working on it whenever I have free time (and daydreaming about it during my other responsibilities). However, I am a full time college student with a part time job, and also a part time actual internship, so I usually have some other thing on my front burner. But I want to get this thing done ASAP so I can submit it for publishing!

Help, I'm stuck at my desk computer!

This isn't the end! You've reached a mini-puzzle. Hints and solution here.

How will my super-abilities upgrade/change as the game progresses?

Your eventual power ups will happen on their own. They look a lot like "upgraded" versions of the initial abilities- sort of spin-offs, similar but stronger and with a twist to keep things interesting. It unfortunately won't be a branching choice (too many ability combos to track) but it will vary quite a bit depending on your initial power picks.

Genoid players will experience a mutation. Dormant genes will activate, causing a physical transformation. You won't look too different, but you'll certainly feel different. Stronger.. wilder?

The cyborg skill tree is gated by how much energy you can store in your power banks. This improves as you get better batteries. Your character will tinker on themselves, improving old augments and adding new ones to account for weaknesses.

Will there be romance? Who are the romantic options?

Villain Intern is very character driven, you'll be able to have all sorts of unique and varying dynamics with the people you meet. Your romantic endeavors are absolutely a part of this (so yes!).

Currently, I have optional full romance storylines planned for R. Sullivan, Peter Hyde, Dr. Elaine Foster, T9-670, and Blink.

My goal is to integrate these with the main plot as much as possible, so they feel like natural progressions rather than side-stories. For the less inclined, and to encourage interaction with the whole cast, you can also forge friendships, make frenemies, enemies, recruit minions, swear allegiances, develop a nemesis, become a sidekick to bigger villains/heroes, etc!

How long will the finished game be? Is there a sequel/series planned?

Personally, I think an interactive fiction game needs at least 400,000 words to really feel complete. So expect that, and probably more! As for the sequel- yes, that's in my outlines. By the end of this game, your character will either be promoted, defect to the superhero company, or fail to do either for various reasons. So naturally we'll need to see how that plays out- an internship is just the first chapter of your career, after all.

Will this game be screen reader friendly? Will you add a screen reader mode?

Yes, accessibility is important to me! It's difficult to implement in beta, with so much of the text and code in flux, but when things are finalized I'll go back and add a complete screen reader mode. There will be more updates & info posts for this down the line.

I have a question/concern that isn't listed here.

Please stop my my inbox! I'm grateful for everyone's generous interest, feedback, and bug testing, and I'm more than happy to chat about whatever. Also, it's fun to get mail. 💌

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter One: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition - Katsuko accepts a mysterious mission that will take her to Azuchi.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this "all business" arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga... and by feelings.

Notes - Takes place after the ending of Nobunaga's romantic route, but before the epilogue. Slow burn (very slow burn). Friends to lovers. Canon typical violence.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari: A primary goal of military planning is to enable Generals to meet their manning objectives for force size, composition, and wartime capability. To attain these objectives, forces must be appropriately structured with motivated personnel who are deployed to jobs suitable for their talents, and given training to improve their skills, even when the country’s security goals evolve to meet new threats. 

On occasion, it may be necessary to contract additional personnel, often mercenaries, who are specifically trained to carry out special projects.

Personal comments: Lord Hideyoshi read the above notes and reminded me that the hiring of additional persons should be performed by himself, and none other. He also said something that I am not certain I heard correctly, but it involved Lord Mitsuhide and a word that I am not comfortable writing down.

“She likes you better – it should come from you.” I eyed the missive in Aki’s hand as if it were an unexploded bomb. Ok, technically it was the match. The UXB was Fume. “She hates me. If I give her this, it will make it worse.” Yes, I am a messenger. Delivering messages is my job. At the same time, I’ve managed to do this job for years without becoming victim to the cliché, ‘kill the messenger.’ I had no desire to ruin this streak of not-being-killedness.

“I’ve been travelling for what feels like a thousand years.” There was wry twist to his mouth, as if those imaginary years had stolen not only time but also something incalculable.

It had felt like a thousand years to me too – I’d been here all summer, with only Fume’s dubious companionship. I was so happy to see a friendly face that I was almost willing to do as requested. Almost. “Well then, the time it takes for you to go into the kitchen and hand her the letter will feel like the blink of an eye, won’t it?”

“I cannot handle what is sure to be an unending spate of feminine histrionics.” He grabbed my hand and stuck the letter in it.

“Are you forgetting that I’m also female?” I shoved the letter back into his hands.

“You, my dear child, are never histrionic.” He waved the letter in the air. “Did I mention it’s in Portuguese?”

Dammit.

With a sigh I took the letter back, my fingers closing around the unfamiliar weight of the European vellum.

He patted my shoulder. “Good luck.” Shouldering his travel gear, he turned toward his quarters. “I’m off to sleep until tomorrow. Don’t bother me unless the world is ending. Don’t bother me then either.”

His footsteps trailed off, then I heard him pause at the doorway to the kitchen and tell Fume that he was under no circumstances to be disturbed. He was also probably telling her –

“Francisco sent me a letter?” Fume planted her squat body in front of me (had she teleported across the room?) and reached for the message. She must have been cooking when Aki stopped in to talk to her, because she still had a kitchen knife in her hand. The entrails of whatever she had been dismembering shone red and wet across the blade.

I felt less optimistic about that messenger not being killed thing.

Fume snatched the letter out of my hand, I had the dubious joy of watching her smell it, then clutch it to her cleavage. Finally, she opened it, sighed, and handed it back to me. “Translate this, Kaya.”

No ‘please.’ I considered requesting that she say it, but the letter was going to infuriate her anyway. No reason to push my luck. I opened the letter and skimmed through it, hoping Aki had been wrong about the contents… and-

Aki’s never wrong.

I wonder if Nobunaga’s job offer is still on the table.

“Don’t stand there like a witless idiot, what does he have to say?” Fume glared at me, and a bit of whatever she had been cutting slid to the edge of the knife and dangled. It was almost hypnotizing to watch that bit of intestine swing back and forth and back and –

“Kaya!”

Once, in a forest in Echigo, I encountered the God of War, and I was less scared of him than I am of Fume. I took a discreet step back, knowing that the knife would be flung at me once she heard what Francisco had to say. I opened the letter and read it to Fume. “My Dearest Little Squash Blossom.” (It absolutely did not begin that way, but my bedroom was close enough to Fume’s that I was aware of every pet name Francisco had ever called her. I unfortunately knew the pet name he used for his penis – which was not information I had ever expected or wanted to know).

“And?” She stomped her foot, and that bit of meat finally gave up and fell off the knife, landing on the floor with a loud, squelchy splat. Sigh. I was going to have to scrub that. “I swear Kaya, some days I wonder why Aki bothers to keep you.”

“Sorry Fume-sama. His handwriting is terrible.” I pretended to squint at the letter, rotating it as if to find a better angle. Mentally, I scrambled to find a diplomatic way to rephrase this ‘Dear John’ letter. “He had to travel to Goa for a family obligation.” I took another tiny step back.

“When will he come back to Japan?” When she was upset, Fume’s voice often rocketed through several octaves to reach a glass shattering pitch.

“That, he does not say.” Aside from what amounted to ‘don’t wait for me to return, have a nice life.’ Basically, it was the Sengoku version of break-up-via-text-message.

Fume’s screech of dismay would likely have all dogs in the district howling. The knife came flying, but though Fume has a terrible temper, she has worse aim, and I ducked it. While she was still raining curses upon Francisco, I escaped to the training grounds behind the manor.

During Aki’s absence, in whatever free time I could squeeze from the maid work Fume gave me, I had been working on my archery skills. My self-assigned task had been to become adept at hitting targets while I was on a moving horse. I’d gotten pretty good at this (it had been a really long summer) and could hit the target while seated in the saddle and while standing up in the stirrups.

Unfortunately, my current goal of hitting the target while hanging off the side of my horse was proving difficult. I either needed an extra hand or a better saddle, because my knee kept slipping off the pommel and I inevitably ended up thudding to the ground. Still, I continued to make the attempt. Falling off my horse was better than dealing with Fume when she was #MOOD.

After each fall, Moonlight would halt, trot back to my side, and nudge me with her nose. “What are you doing, you silly human?” At least, that was what I imagined she was saying. Fume might hate me, but my horse was my best buddy.

On my third attempt of the afternoon, I’d managed to get off a shot that landed at the edge of the target before thumping gracelessly to the turf.

Euuf. That one almost knocked the breath out of me.

Even with Moonlight nosing me, I spent a moment on the ground, staring at the puffy clouds in the sky, and pondering my life choices.

“Katsu, was there a purpose to this exercise other than practicing your falling skills?” The dry comment came from the gate to the yard, where a man with long dark hair looked down on me from his position on his own horse.

“Kyubei!” I got to my feet and dusted off my rear end. I couldn’t remember my Azuchi contact ever coming to this part of the country. I always travelled there, not the reverse. “Has something happened?”

“That was my question for you.” He climbed off his horse and glanced back over his shoulder at where the path angled steeply down the mountain. “We haven’t seen you in weeks, and Mitsuhide has an urgent request of your master.”

“Oh. Nothing’s wrong. Aki’s been away for some time. He finally returned this morning.” I glanced back toward the manor, wondering if ‘urgent business from Mitsuhide’ would meet his definition of the world ending. “I’ve been mired here all summer.”

I looped Moonlight’s reigns over the fence so she wouldn’t wander into the garden and eat something that would annoy Fume even more. “In any case, it’s good to see a friendly face. Welcome to The Mountain.” Aki had never actually named his manor, but given its location, most people referred to it this way.

“Mountain is rather an understatement. The path to here is vertical.” Once again, Kyubei looked over his shoulder at the view.

“You ought to see it in winter.” There were times when it was impassible for days. “It’s really an adventure coming and going then.”

He literally turned pale at that. “I will take your word for it.” His hand went to his waist where the edge of an oilskin pack peeped out from the vee of his kimono. “Do you know if Akihira is available to speak with me?”

“Um. Well, he did say he didn’t wish to be disturbed until tomorrow. Is there anything I can help you with in the meanwhile?” I directed Kyubei around to the front.

Kyubei paused and scrutinized me from toes to the top of my head, and I suddenly had the odd feeling he could see right into my soul. “Actually, I believe you can. Katsu, pardon me if this is an intrusive question, but are you a girl?”

Whoops! When I was here at home, I usually didn’t bother with the leather binder I used to flatten my figure, and my hair wasn’t neatly hidden away. Oh well. Too late now. “Not intrusive, and yes – though I am still Katsu. My birth name is Katsuko.”

He smiled. “You might be the perfect solution to our problem, Katsuko.”

Oh? Please. Let me be a solution to a problem, and not-

Just then the woman who generally considered me her problem blocked the front door of the manor. “Kaya stop flirting with this vagrant and come help me clean up.”

“Fume-sama, this man urgently needs to speak with Akihira.” I gestured to Kyubei, who bowed politely, but not with any particular deference.

“He isn’t to be disturbed until tomorrow, and I intend to make sure of that.” She eyed Kyubei with suspicion. “If he must speak with Akihira, then he can spend the night in the stable. Where, I might add, your horse also belongs, and not tied to the gate.”

I can’t win with this woman. “Play along,” I murmured to Kyubei before returning my attention to Fume. “This is Oda Nobunaga’s ally Akechi Mitsuhide. His message is extremely important.”

Kyubei instantly underwent a top to toes transformation – his posture straightened, his eyes took on a sharp gleam, and he flashed Fume a mocking smile. I appreciated how quickly he had done that. Although I was used to passing as a boy, and occasionally as an old man, I’d never tried to impersonate someone particular. “I’m given to understand that Yamaoka Akihira is in residence at present.”

A similar transformation affected Fume, who went from condescending to obsequious in the same amount of time. She bowed low and long. “He does not wish to be disturbed, but I am certain he would wish you treated as an honored guest. Kaya! Prepare a room for Lord Akechi.” She stepped aside and shooed me toward the guest quarters. “My apologies my lord. Akihira has treated this one as a pet.”

A pet would have people to play with, but… details.

When Fume is in a #MOOD, it’s easier to stand back and take it (while imagining a creative revenge to be named later). I turned to go inside, but Kyubei stopped me. “You do me honor, but it is, as I said, a matter of some urgency. Is there any way I can convince you to disturb him?”

“No need.” Aki padded down the hall, dressed in his nighttime robes. “It’s impossible to get any sleep with all this commotion.”

“Aki,” I said, hoping to clue him in before he broke Kyubei’s cover. “Mitsuhide – oof.” Fume had elbowed me, none to gently. “That is, Lord Aketchi travelled all the way from Azuchi to speak with you.”

With a conspiratorial smile, Aki turned to Kyubei. “He did, eh? Well, Mitsuhide, it’s a pleasure to see you… again. Shall we discuss this matter in my receiving room?”

Kyubei inclined his head and followed Aki into the house. I made to join them, but Fume grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “The floor, Kaya. There is something on it.” She pointed to the meat that had dripped from her knife earlier.

With a glance back to me, Kyubei paused. “This involves your messenger. Can she meet with us as well? It would save time.”

The “she” pronoun caused Aki’s eyebrow to raise, but he simply nodded and motioned me along. I resisted the impulse to give Fume a look of triumph.

I hurried after Kyubei into Aki’s office, skidding to a halt to avoid running into him. He’d stopped just inside the door and was looking around. I tried to imagine how the office would look to an outsider: an eye-searing jumble of odds and ends, Western trinkets and Chinese artwork culled from his dealings with the Portuguese traders, a mismatch of both Japanese style and European furnishings, and of course two shogi boards – one of which consisted of his ongoing long-distance game with Mitsuhide. I was used to it… but it could definitely be sensory overload to a stranger.

Kyubei looked down at shogi game-in-process. “This at least, is a familiar sight.”

“One would hope that this visit isn’t simply because Mitsuhide is impatient for my next move.” Aki paused by the firepit to put the tea water on to boil.

“No, of course not. Although, I will admit to being tired of losing to him every night while we wait for your message.” Kyubei glanced back and forth between the chairs that were facing a large European crafted desk, and the cushions around a traditional writing desk.

Aki gestured to the larger desk and chairs, which he preferred to use, claiming height was better on his knees. In all the years I had known him, he had not shown any evidence of knee pain. Once I had pointed that out to him, he’d told me it was because he sat in Nanban chairs. I think he chooses to sit there because it makes him look like a king facing his subjects.

Once we were seated at the desk, with cups of te- wait. Was Aki drinking… coffee? I sniffed the air and glanced at his cup.

“My latest find from a Nanban merchant.” He took a long sip. “Who, I believe, purchased it from a Dutch trader. Do you wish to taste it?” He pushed the cup toward me.

I knew what coffee tasted like, but ‘Katsu’ would not, so I took a sip then made a face that was not entirely fake. “It’s rather strong. Slightly bitter.” I don’t mind bitter. But I like my tea.

I passed the cup to Kyubei who also took a taste. “I imagine it could be an acquired taste but…hm.” He tapped his fingers on the cup. “I wonder if I might have some of this to take back to my master to see if he can taste it.”

That was an odd turn of phrase, but Aki simply nodded. “I’ll send a package with instructions on how to prepare it back with you. Meanwhile, I understand you have an important message from him?”

Kyubei handed over the message. Aki unfolded it and read through it with a few absent-minded hmmms of his own, a chin rub, and sidelong glances at me. “Mitsuhide asks if I have an apprentice or messenger who can pass as a woman. It appears to me that having Katsuko pretend to be a boy pretending to be a girl would be unnecessarily complicated.”

I imagine Julie Andrews would have something to say about that.

“Indeed.” Kyubei glanced at me critically. “However, we can do as well with Katsuko as herself. True, there would still be a bit of a disguise involved, but no one expects there to be any danger.”

No one expects the Spanish inquisition either.

I’m not really bothered by the idea of danger. After the past couple of months, I’d gladly take a change of scenery and would welcome. The denizens of Azuchi couldn’t be any worse than Fume, and even if there was some danger, it wasn’t likely to throw a bloody kitchen knife at me.

Aki rubbed his chin. “Kyubei, do you mind giving us a moment of privacy to discuss the matter?”

Kyubei bowed. “Not in the least. I’ll find your, er, kind, chatelaine and ask for a place where I can wash the mountain off me.” It sounded like he and the mountain were not fond of one another.

Once Kyubei had whisked himself away with all the discretion and attitude of an upper crust British butler (or at least a Netflix version of same), Aki turned to me. “I suppose the first question is, do you wish to do this?”

“My first preference would be to go with you on your next mission.” Aki often took me with him on short jobs, but not the long journeys where he went away, only to return looking as if the fate of the world rested on his shoulders… I would like to share that burden with him, if he would let me. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped being just an apprentice to him, but he still shielded me from much of his work.

Aki smiled at me, but he looked … sad. Sad? Not an emotion that I usually associated with him. “That’s very … kind of you Katsuko. But these are missions that I must do on my own.”

“If that is the case then yes, please send me to Azuchi.” Not wanting to sound too overeager to be gone from home, I added, “If Fume and I spend much more time together, the next time you return, I cannot promise we’d both be alive to greet you.”

He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Alright my fierce… apprentice. Bear in mind you’ll be working for Mitsuhide who will not have as much tolerance for your brand of cheekiness as I do.”

I stole another sip of his coffee just to tease him. “You did teach me manners, remember?”

He groaned. “I do remember. That’s why I’m worried.” He looked out the window, but I had a feeling he wasn’t seeing lush summer greenery in the yard, but something less friendly…  something that weighed on him. Then he seemed to shake it off and looked back to me with that familiar professorial tone. “As it happens, you’ll also be spending time in the Hida region, and it suits me very much to have someone in that area, so I’m inclined to send you with Kyubei.”

I sat up straighter. Aside from the couple of weeks I had spent in the booksellers in Azuchi, I’d never had a solo mission. “What needs doing in Hida?”

Aki rustled around with the papers on his desk and pulled out a map. “There’s a great deal of mining in the area – many parties are very interested in those mines as the desire for Japanese silver exports increases. It goes without saying that Nobunaga wants control, but there may be people not happy for him to have that. I don’t expect that the area will destabilize – at least not quickly, but when you return, I would like to know your impression of the situation.”

Thrilled that he trusted me with this, I lifted my chin and fought back the urge to smile. Professionals don’t smile. “I won’t let you down.” Again though, there was part of my brain that had on repeat, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

“I know you won’t.” He took a large sip of coffee, savoring it as if it were the best beverage on the planet. “Or you’ll spend the next year solely under Fume’s authority.” He softened that threat with a smile. “I trust you know how to take care of yourself, but it goes without saying that I hope you’ll be careful and stay safe.”

Maybe it went without saying, but he had never before said it to me, especially not in that tone of voice that almost made me want to hug him.

And, so, I did hug him, and after a startled moment, he held onto me tightly, his palms pressed firmly into my back.

Although Aki encouraged Kyubei to spend the night and get an early and well-rested start in the morning, he preferred to leave right away, claiming that time was of the essence. Kyubei advised me not to bother packing any of “Kaya’s” clothing – advice that cheered me immensely, as Kaya’s clothing was a dreary pile of ugly kimonos in varying shades of mud. “Nobunaga will see that an appropriate wardrobe is provided for you. The Lady Mai is a talented seamstress and will be happy to outfit you.”

That didn’t provide much of a clue to what I would be doing, or what I should pack, but I simply threw together everything I would have brought along were I going on a trip with Aki, as well as my (sadly fraying) portrait of Toshiie, and the portable shogi set that Aki had given me on my most recent birthday. Though I knew I’d be dressing as a female, I chose to travel as Katsu – it was safer. Moreover, ‘Katsu’ was familiar, and I’d learned to keep as many familiar things close to me as possible, lest they disappear forever.

“I’m glad you were quick,” Kyubei said once we were on our way. “I do not want to make this descent after dark.”

“It’s actually easier if you can’t see where you are going,” I said, just for the fun of seeing him turn pale again. “At least if you fall off the mountain, you won’t see the rocks before you hit them.”

“I can’t wait for Mitsuhide to meet you,” he muttered as we led our horses along the steep path. Riding would have been faster, but I didn’t know how surefooted his horse was. Also, I doubted Kyubei even wanted to add another four feet of height to the equation.

“Why?” In truth, after delivering so many messages to him via Kyubei over the past four years, I was surprised that our paths hadn’t crossed.

“No reason… Katsu, can we stop talking until we reach flatter territory? I’d prefer to concentrate on not plunging to my death.” Kyubei sounded out of breath.

I glanced over my shoulder and felt bad for teasing him. I mean, put me in front of a tunnel, a cave or even a tiny windowless room, and I’d be a sobbing mess. “Alright, but to be honest, it looks worse than it is. Nobody’s ever fallen off the mountain in the summer. Well, not anyone who wasn’t drunk first.”

He grumbled something along the lines of about needing to be drunk to take this path.

It wasn’t until we made our way to flatter terrain that he regained his normal distantly friendly attitude. By the time we had camped for the night, he had relaxed enough to entertain me with some of his exploits.

“How did you manage to pretend to be Mitsuhide so quickly?” I set a copper tea kettle over the fire. “Oh, I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” I added as Kyubei shook some of the coffee beans into his hand.

He ignored my advice and bit into one but managed to keep a straight face while what I imagined was very bitter coffee attacked his taste buds. “Some of it is training – but I’ve also had a lot of practice. He and I have exchanged identities in the past.”

“Really? I thought Mitsuhide was… older?” I’d once seen the back of his head – in fact that was the only glance I had ever seen of him – and his hair was silver-white.

“No, we’re of the same age.” Kyubei poured the coffee beans back into their metal tin. “Put me in a silver wig and anyone who doesn’t know him well would be fooled.”

Wow – I bet that made them fun at Halloween. “Will I be in disguise too?” Please don’t say housemaid.

“We’ll be presenting you Oda Princess.” Kyubei had a faint smile on his face.

“A wha-” I paused, realizing I had spoken with an unprincesslike mouthful. I swallowed, the tried… and failed… to come up with an appropriately regal reply. “Er, not that I’m not flattered, but you could have gotten an actress and done just as well.”

Kyubei inclined his head. “Indeed. Our Princess might have some additional duties more generally assigned to personal guards. But truly, as I said, we don’t expect this to be very dangerous.”

In other words, Princess-slash-bodyguard. On one hand, that sounded pretty awesome… aside from that voice in my head had that had swelled to an eight-part chorale: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @katriniac @briars7

[scarletsaphire]

Danny, newly added to the cheer team (mostly) against his will, is attending his first lock in with the girls. It's a lot more fun than he expected.

--

4th fic for @phicphight, with this one going to @lavendarlily and @lonelygrayrose, with a special shout out to @hannahmanderr because she asked politely. Prompts used will be at the end!

Danny had accepted that he didn't get much control over his life. Ever since he'd died, he was getting pulled one way or another for ghost fights or school or family stuff. It really came to its worst point went he'd been more or less bullied into joining the cheer team. Sam and Tucker were not help; they thought it was hilarious.

It did mean that the already minuscule amount of free time he had was filled with practice, or games, or other team building exercises. Like right now; the annual lock in for the cheer team, hosted in Casper High one and only cafeteria. Really pulling out all the stops.

Danny had been dreading it since it was announced two weeks ago; knowing his luck, there would be some kind of ghost attack, and then he'd have to play the whole "Oh I've been here the whole time!" game. And if that didn't happen, he'd be stuck in the cafeteria with the cheer leader girls for twelve hours straight! Sure, they were nice enough, especially since he joined the team, but that didn't mean they were friends!

It had only taken an hour for Danny to change his opinion.

The parent chaperone very clearly did not care about what they got up to, provided no one broke a bone or stole something where she could see. This allowed them to roll all of the tables off the walls of the cafeteria and construct a complicated and completely unsafe obstacle course for them to run through.

The first two girls had already given it their best shot; the first one, Abigail, who Danny had never seen without bows in her hair, had made it pretty far for being the first one through, but her hair had gotten tangled in one of the wheels, and the official score keeper (who was, of course, Paulina) gave her a DNF. She was currently off to the side with Star, getting her tied back into a braid and watching the spectacle.

The second girl, Brittany, had finished, if her time was a bit sad. "I don't want a repeat of that!" she'd said while the rest of  them teased her about her terrible performance. "I just got these braids put in on Monday, and I am not spending another four hours to get them redone!"

They were going in alphabetical order, so that meant Danny was next up. He lifted his arms above his head to stretch while he analyzed the course.

They'd done a pretty good job, if he did say so himself. There were several tables that he would need to go under, several he'd need to jump, and one they'd set up to require jumping on the seats instead of on the table. A bit rudimentary, sure, but it worked for their purposes.

"So, Danny Fenton," Paulina said, holding her water bottle out towards him like a microphone. "As the only boy on the team, you have quite the reputation to try and uphold. Do you have a strategy going into this?"

Danny flashed her a grin he normally saved for when he was Phantom. "Course I do."

Paulina returned the smile, and leaned in closer. "And what would that be?"

"And spoil the surprise? Not a chance."

Paulina laughed, leaning back on her seat of backpacks, blankets, and pillows. "You're setting high expectations, Fenton. You ready?"

Danny nodded, settling into a running stance.

"Three, two, one, go!"

He started running to the cheers of his teammates.He hadn't lied; he did have a strategy, and it didn't involve any kind of ghost powers. He wouldn't need them.

Danny had spent the better part of two years dodging bullets, ray beams, fire, boomerangs, bazookas, and about a dozen other, faster, much more painful objects. Two years honing reaction speed, flexibility, and spatial awareness, all of which would help him decimate the past two times, and anyone else who wanted to race after him.

Okay, maybe the practice part did involve ghost powers, but he wouldn't be using any now.

He vaulted over the first table cleanly, chaining the momentum to roll underneath the next table in one fluid motion. He came to his feet already running, ready to vault over the next two tables. In what felt like a heartbeat, he was already at the end obstacle, where he'd have to hop back and forth on the seats without touching the table; if he touched it, that would mean an immediate disqualification.

It didn't prove to be any more difficult than any other obstacle had been, although it was significantly slower. Danny leapt off of the final seat straight into a backflip, landing perfectly on his feet.

That part wasn't required; he just felt like flexing a little.

His grand finish was met with the roaring applause of the eight girls; Abigail had even started whistling, much to Star's annoyance, as she was still trying to fix her hair.

"And that is two minutes and twenty seven seconds!" Paulina called from her makeshift chair.

"Damn!" Alysha said. "That is going to be a tough time to beat!"

"Thank you, thank you," Danny said, taking an exaggerated bow. "I'll be here all night."

Alysha shoved his shoulder even while she laughed.

Danny made his way back to the spot he'd claimed, a little bit to the side of Paulina's seat.

"I am so happy we recruited you," she said as he sat down.

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "I am too."

As surprising as it was, it was true. Maybe he'd originally gotten the spot because of his ghost fighting and powers, but it had quickly become the only (mostly) ghost free thing he had. He'd never gotten that kind of luxury at home, and while he loved Sam and Tucker to death, it was way to easy for their hangouts to become patrols or planning patrols. Or homework, but that didn't count.

There was the additional fact that being on the cheer team had made Danny's life easier at school; the teacher's were more lenient with schoolwork, he had a different group of people he could sit with if Sam and Tucker were out sick, or if they got absorbed in their infamous debates, and everyone was just so much nicer to him.

Even Dash had stopped with the bullying, and after a couple stilted conversations and an emotionally charged apology that was leagues beyond what he'd thought Dash capable of, Danny would be willing to call them friends.

Definitely just friends though. It didn't matter that Tucker had caught him staring at Dash several times during lunch or that he got all flustered whenever they ended up in the locker room together. That was a coincidence. 

Just like Danny had expected, none of the girls came even close to his time. Star got a strong second place at three minutes flat, which was very impressive on its own, but his natural talent and years of practice held him high above the rest.

"You have to tell us how you did that," Aubrey said, jutting out her bottom lip. It was the same look she gave Coach Tetslaff every time she tried to extend practice.

Unfortunately for her, it worked just as well on Danny as it did on Coach. "Yeah, sure. Right after I tell you how I handle flying so well."

"Ugh." Aubrey flopped forward into a heap on the table. "You are. So mean."

The sound of a cellphone ringing cut off whatever Danny was going to say next. The team glanced back at the chaperone, who had settled in a corner of the room with a laptop, a thermos Danny swore was full of hard liquor, and headphones. They all sat in silence as she answered the phone.

"Hello? Uhuh. Yeah, I'll be right up. Everything should already be paid for, right? Good." She hung up the phone with a snap and stood from her spot. "Pizza's here. You kids sit tight, I'll be right back."

The group stayed quiet until her footsteps disappeared down the hallway outside of the door, before everyone shared a conspiratory look. Everyone but Danny, that is.

"Uh... what did I miss?" Danny asked.

Aubrey and Abigail stood up, one moving to the window of the door, the other to the chaperone's bag. The other girls all shared the same look again. 

"Did nobody tell you?" Dakota asked.

Danny ran over the incredibly short list of things he'd been told about the lock in, which was basically just that it was a lock in, before shaking his head. "Tell me what?"

"Oh, Ms. Pachelli is a total drunk," Paulina said. "I'm sure you've noticed its not apple juice in her thermos?"

Danny nodded his head.

"Well, that's not enough to last her a whole night, even on a good day, and dealing with us is never a good day in her books." Paulina studied her fingernails while Abigail fished a bottle of whiskey out of her backpack. "So, every year we switch out her spare bottle for one of Abby's parents' old empty ones."

Sure enough, Abigail pulled out an identical bottle from Ms. Pachelli's bag.

"And... you don't get in trouble for that?"

The rest of team all giggled. "Please," Star said dismissively. "She barely cares about us to begin with, and if she tries to get us in trouble, she'd have to admit she has a problem."

"She's coming," Aubrey hissed from the door, and Abigail made a dash back to her backpack. By the time Ms. Pachelli was back in the room, three steaming pizza pies in hand, the whole team was doing a perfect imitation of teenagers who weren't up to anything.

"It'll be over here when you girls are hungry," she said, setting them down where food was normally served. "Uh. You girls and Danny." She amended when she turned around to see them all pointing at him, a habit they'd developed with Coach Tetslaff. Ms. Pachelli settled back down in her corner, taking one, long swig from her thermos, and putting her headphones back on.

The rest of the team

"She'll fall asleep soon," Dakota whispered to Danny. "That's when the real party starts."

Sure enough, it had barely passed 1 AM before Ms. Pachelli had dozed off and the team was left completely unsupervised. Brittany went to make sure she was sleep, and after fiddling with the headphones, she shot a thumbs up at the group. Abigail pulled the bottle back out to the cheers of the team.

"It's time for the real party to get started!" Dakota called.

"Don't we need to stay quiet?" Danny asked.

Star shook her head. "Nah, she's got some video playing in the background. I don't even think a ghost attack would be loud enough to wake her."

"I think its flat earth videos this time," Brittany added. "Definitely looked like it from what I saw, at least."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Why is she even here? If she sucks and also hates all of you-" he ignored whoever called out "She hates you too!" "-why does she volunteer to do it?"

"We ask for her by name," Abigail said, passing the now opened bottle to Paulina.

Paulina took a swig straight from the container before passing it on to Brittany. "That, and if she didn't volunteer for this, she'd have to actually do something at any of the other events the school hosts. She's part of the PTA." 

"Ok, but that doesn't explain why she has to be on the PTA," Danny pointed out.

"Uh, duh, she's Derreck's mom. You can't have a kid in as many extracurriculars as he's in and not be on the PTA," Star said.

"I guess," Danny agreed. He still didn't really understand, but he also didn't want to spend the whole night asking about Ms. Pachelli's life. Besides, the bottle had reached him. He took a small sip from the bottle, and pulled a face at the unexpected burn.

The girls laughed.

"First time tasting alcohol?" Audrey teased, taking the bottle from his hands.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not the first time. I just. Didn't expect it to taste like that."

The girls all shared a look before laughing harder.

"It is going to be a fun night," Paulina said, a mischievous smile on her face.

--

Danny wasn't sure what time it was anymore. He knew that a couple of the girls had conked out, with Aubrey being the first to fall about an hour ago. He knew that he wasn't getting any sleep tonight, and from the looks of it, neither was Dakota, who was blasting music from her phone and dancing on one of the tables. She'd been the one to hog most of the bottle.

Not that Danny was complaining; he was definitely not sober, although he couldn't say whether he was tipsy or drunk or somewhere in between or another word he wasn't privy to. Either way, he was drunk enough that he'd agreed to let Paulina and Star do his makeup, something he would never have agreed to without the help of the whiskey.

"Stop moving," Star said, holding him by the shoulders and looking into his eyes, as if she could psychically control him into not moving. Jokes on her, Danny knew how mind control worked, and it was only sometimes like that. "Or else we're gonna-" she hiccoughed, then continued as if nothing had happened, "-mess up your makeup."

"Yeah," Paulina said. "And you don't want to look like a mess for Dash, do you?"

Danny snapped his head towards her, nearly poking his own eye out with the makeup applicator she was using.

"Stooop!" Star said, turning his head back towards her.

Danny obeyed, but he turned his eyes to look at Paulina. "Why would I care about what Dash thinks?"

He could just barely make out her flat stare from the corner of his vision. "Because you like him?"

"I do not!" Danny protested.

Star giggled while Paulina talked over her. "Danny, we have eyes, you know. And we've seen yours wandering to him every time he's anywhere near you."

Danny opened his mouth to protest, but Star pushed it shut. "Nuh uh. Lipstick first." He tried again, but was met with the same result. "I will smear this all over your teeth do not test me Fenton." This time, Danny obeyed.

 By the time he had finished, his initial protests had already died out. It wasn't like they were wrong; he just hadn't realized he'd been so obvious about it. "Fine. I might have a little crush."

"Well if by "little crush" you mean that you're head over heels in love with my best friend, then yeah, I know you have a little crush on him."

"Hey!" Star cried. "I thought I was your best friend?"

"Best boy friend," Paulina corrected. "But not boyfriend boyfriend. We tried dating, but he's not interested in me. Which, you know, I was insulted with originally, but he's just not into any girls, so the fact that he was into me enough to try dating is a win."

"So, he likes-"

"Boys, yeah."

"Which means you have a chance," Paulina added. "But only if you sit still and let us make you look pretty!"

Danny really didn't think he had been moving around all that much, but he made sure to sit even stiller now.

"You're gonna need to be the one who asks him out."

Star nodded. "He's worried about doing something wrong, cause he was so mean to you before." Star paused at Paulina's glare. "Oh. Was that a part I wasn't supposed to share?"

"Yes," Paulina said, annoyed. "But it's too late now."

"Wait, hold on, what?"

"Oh, he likes you too," Paulina said. "It's gotten kind of annoying, listening to him go on and on about how 'cool' you look doing flips and everything."

Danny felt his face heating up more. "I mean. I just. I don't really know how to ask someone out?"

"Oh trust me, I know," Paulina laughed. "Don't think I've forgotten all the shit you pulled during freshman year."

Danny's face burned even hotter.

"Polly, you're embarrassing him!" Star said, but she couldn't stop a giggle of her own. "We're supposed to be helping!"

"I know, I know, but I can't help it!" Paulina said, her laughter dying out.

"You two planned this?" Danny asked incredulously.

"I mean, we didn't not plan it?" Star replied.

"No, we planned it," Paulina corrected. "I think Abigail even put it on her itinerary, but she fell asleep, like a loser."

Star giggled again. "So we're taking over!"

"You've got to be more confident, flaco. You get all blushy and stutter, and give up halfway through, and while that's adorable, it's not going to work if you want results."

"We've seen you on the field, we know you can do it, so don't try to deny it," Star added.

"But that's an entirely different thing!"

"It's not that different," Paulina said.

 Star ignored her. "Then just pretend you're on the field! Put on a good show for him, and I guarantee he'll be drooling all over you. Just like he is during the games."

"He is not drooling about me during the games."

"Oh, he so is," Star countered. "You remember the game you first debuted?"

Danny nodded; while he'd done fine, the actual game had been a bit of a shit show. Casper High had lost, fourteen to nothing.

"Dash only fumbled that because he was so distracted by you," Paulina said. "Tripped right over his own feet, cost us the first points of the game, and it was all down hill from there. If you can do that when you aren't even trying, imagine what you can do to him when you are."

"I think we're done here," Star said, withdrawing from Danny.

"I think we've outdone ourselves," Paulina said, angling his face to admire their work. She grabbed a small mirror from her pocket and passed it over to him. "What do you think?"

He looked surprisingly good, much better than he expected considering the fact he was a boy and that the people doing his makeup were at least a little drunk.

"It looks good," Danny agreed.

"No," Star protested. "You look good, and you need to take that vibe with you when you ask Dash out tomorrow."

"Who said anything about tomorrow?"

"We did," Paulina said. "Because tomorrow, we're going to be dragging him with us to the park and finding a convenient excuse to leave him there alone."

"You're gonna swoop in, and you're gonna ask him out and save him from having to deal with us all day."

"Trust us. It'll be perfect."

"I don't-"

"Shh." Star put her finger over Danny's lips. "We're doing this, whether you show up or not."

"Which means we need our rest, and you need your beauty sleep."

"So shoo while we clean up."

Danny didn't really know what else to do besides walk back to his pile of stuff and get comfortable.

He guessed he was going to the park sometime tomorrow. He hadn't been planning on it, but that was ok. He was used to that.

--

Prompts:

LonelyGrayRose - "Well if by "little crush" you mean that you're head over heels in love with our best friend, then yeah, I know you have a little crush on [him/her]" lavendarlily - Who knew Danny Fenton was so agile? Paulina makes it her personal mission to get him on the cheer squad.

[lilithsaga]

Happy Birthday to the lovely Lilith Saga! (aka me) 🥳

I dont have much to offer other than sincere gratitude for everyone who supports me. Thank you all so much! 💜

That said, here is a short lore/origin excerpt of my story:

Or, better yet, feel free to read it below!

In my darkest moments, when everything seems hopeless, the one thing that consistently saves my life is a good story. This doesn't apply to every good story out there, of course; everyone has their preferences. I'm not going to pretend my tastes are better than anyone else's. But the kind of stories I appreciate are heart-touching enough to rip out dormant feelings that were buried deep, awe-inspiring enough to keep me invested in a lifestyle I never knew I needed to learn about, and thought-provoking enough to shatter my world to pieces and mold a new one from the remnants of what once was.

My name is Lilith Saga. I am a writer, succubus, and PNGtuber. I'm sure these titles that I label myself as seem a little strange at first. How can an introverted, shy, bookworm writer be the same as a sexy, alluring, tantalizing succubus? It's simple. Contrary to popular belief, succubi and incubi consume strong emotions to live.

Given our indecent reputation, desire and arousal are considered the most common emotions to consume because of how powerful and simple they tend to be. But for those of us who don't wish to get involved in that way, we also collect other human emotions. Anger, sadness, fear, disgust, joy, etc. The triggers for these emotions are different for every person, and are never guaranteed to work the same for everyone. However, there is one tried and true method that never fails to evoke deep emotions.

Storytelling!

So, for me personally, I prefer to say that I consume stories.

My heart swings against my rib cage when a story captivates me and takes my breath away. I adore listening to tales that make me laugh, make me cry, and keep me intrigued in a person and their world. Often times, when someone is telling their story, they go through the highs and lows of emotion when relaying it to me. Hearing their tale sparks a connection of mutual understanding, and we tend to grow a little closer because of it.

It's become an addicting feeling, one that I can't help but chase. If I had more time, I would spend every day searching for new stories to consume. Books, movies, TV shows, stage plays, musicals, comics, poems, songs, podcasts, fanfiction—every available format possible! There are so many different stories to consume that it can be difficult to keep up!

But... I know I can't.

I can never consume them all.

I'm not as healthy as I once was, not as happy, not as free. The older I've become, the more responsibilities I've acquired. More responsibilities mean more busy work. And more busy work means less time to indulge in stories. I feel as if I'm stuck in a cage where I'm so busy with mindless work that I neglect to take care of myself. I never found the key, nor do I expect to anytime soon. But, despite this, I found a warm blanket to make my stay more comfortable.

"Hellooooooooo Everybodyyyyyyyy~!"

This is my reality.

Channeling my creativity into YouTube like this was the best decision I've made in centuries. What started as an impulsive decision after getting laid off from my day job, turned into an outlet for me to enjoy storytelling once more. Currently, I play visual novels and RPG Maker games. Then I upload my playthroughs to YouTube. It allows me time once a week to go down the rabbit hole and experience stories I've always wanted to explore.

At first I thought it would be fun to document my journey to hold myself accountable, making sure I kept to this new habit. But then I noticed something. I wasn't the only person watching my videos! It never occurred to me that other beings around the world would tune in to my commentary and find it entertaining. I was just a silly succubus enjoying stories from games. And yet, without realizing it, I found a way to share these stories with others and connect on how the story impacted me.

My mind escaped to a world of creativity that I've been longing for. I've learned how to do social media, branding, public speaking, networking, project management, the list goes on. I have story concepts reaching me like how they used to when I was younger. I can feel this invigorating energy coursing through my veins. There's nothing in this world that can stop me-

Bzzt.

Oh yeah. Time. My mortal enemy.

...

Well, let's get to work, shall we?