#i do have more constructed thoughts than that but I won't put them all in the tags

[andreafmn]

Hello I see your taking request again ! I’m so happy It’s been sooo long hope your doing well !?!

Can you write a reader x jasper

Reader is a vampire she has been with the cullens for ever like before Alice and jasper got there !

She’s as cool as a cucumber like no one has ever seen her mad

Well once edwards started seeing Bella and being a diva he makes a comment about jasper and reader loses it like full on throws him through a wall lol

Everyone is super shocked because they’ve never seen her like that and emmitts booming voice in the back round saying well never talk shit about jasper in front of reader again

everyone nods in agreement and jasper just looks at reader and says I love when your defending me love but let’s not put anymore people through a wall and everyone laughs

Word Count: 3K

Story Description: (Y/N) Cullen might be even-tempered and calm by nature. But when it came to her partner, no one gets by unscathed. Not even her own family.

A/N: I know I took forever to post this request, but I always take forever for everything 😅 though I hope you enjoy and that I did your request honor, anon. My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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If you’d like to be tagged in any story or make a request: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Tagging apparently has reached its limits for Twilight stories. It won't allow me to post with the list I have right now, so turning on notifications will allow you to know whenever I post anything new.

Karmic Retribution

There were certain unspoken rules to being a Cullen.

One of the worst ones, the oldest made all the decisions. This meant that, more often than not, Carlisle and Edward were the ones to determine the outcome for the family. And to that point, it had been fine. There was never anything truly holding them down to any place in particular, and they could travel any time they wanted.

(Y/N) was fine with that to an extent. She was on the same level as Edward in terms of age, and sometimes she felt she should have more leverage in family decisions than she had. But she had always been quiet, keeping her anger always at bay. And it helped that she had Jasper by her side.

Their connection was almost instantaneous.

When the messy bundle of blond curls walked into their home in Calgary, she knew he’d turn her whole life around. They grew close quickly. Spending almost every moment by each other’s side. (Y/N) could not remember her life before she met Jasper Whitlock. As time passed, the memory of her time without him seemed more and more like a dream rather than her past. To her, he had been there forever.

Though she did not have any special abilities, everything about her was extraordinary to Jasper. She became his lifeline, the only thing to keep him afloat when he felt like drowning. Because most days he felt his head was always just barely above water. Treading on the line between fighting his animalistic instincts and his new family’s peculiar lifestyle.

(Y/N) could do to him what he was able to do for everyone else. She could read his emotions before he had a chance to name them, and she somehow found a way to make him calm and tranquil. She was everything he did not know he needed.

He had been afraid to tell her of his past. How he’d fought for the confederacy and had built and led an army of newborns in the south. He was ashamed of the lives he had taken, the people he had turned and promised eternity to in exchange for their loyalty, only to dispose of them one year later. All for what he thought was love. Jasper was frightened that the second he confessed to the sins of his past, (Y/N) would forsake him and push him aside.

Instead, he was met with a wave of compassion that washed over him. As his eyes stung from dry tears, (Y/N) provided him with a smile that he was sure could warm his frozen body. She placed a comforting hand on his cheek and gave his lips a soft kiss.

“Our pasts do not define the people we are today,” she had told him, nothing but love in her eyes. “The reason we are who we are now is because we have moved forward from what we did yesterday. You don’t need my forgiveness, my love. For the man I know now will never be the same as the man that was. What you need is to forgive yourself.”

At that moment, Jasper knew that his search was finally over. Though he still struggled with his hunger and considered himself a dangerous man, he’d found the person that could love him completely. A woman that had taken one look at the scars of his past — literally and figuratively — and, instead of recoiling in fear and disgust, had placed a kiss upon them and filled them with love and compassion.

“Do you know how lucky I am, darling?” Jasper had told her one day as they lay in a clearing somewhere in the snowy surroundings of Alaska.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) chuckled. Her fingers traced the stitching of the vest he wore, her head pressed against his chest wondering what his heartbeat could have sounded like. “I’d like to think I’m the one that is lucky. How many years did I spend on my own, waiting on my forever? Then you show up, with Alice in tow, and you change our family for the better. And now, I have someone to walk through life until the end of time.”

“Life is funny that way, huh,” he smiled. “And that is precisely what I wanted to speak to you about. I know our journey is seemingly endless and certain mundane things don’t particularly mean as much as eternity. But there is something that I want more than anything — mostly as a symbol of how much I love you. Because in this life and the next I want nothing more than to spend it by your side. So I ask you, (Y/N), would you do me the absolute honor of allowing me to be your husband?”

“For as long as love lives between us, yes. A thousand times yes.”

A wedding was such a monumental event for humans. For beings that stood the trials of time, it was a symbol of commitment. A way to bind their lives with something other than words. A simple promise made in the presence of the people they valued above everything else. That they were making the choice to intertwine their lives in all ways, regardless of any circumstances.

The event had been small, much to Alice’s dismay. The pair simply wanted their family and a few friends in attendance. Their love needed no impressive show, it simply was, and that’s how they wanted it.

In the family, they kept their heads low and out of the way. It was futile to insist on having more of a voice when it came to the decisions of the family. To that point, they had no quarrels with the choices the patriarch had determined for the clan.

Keeping to themselves allowed (Y/N) and Jasper to form a bond like no other. They didn’t need Edward’s mind reading to be able to hear the other’s thoughts; didn’t need Alice’s foretelling to know their life would be live and full of life. The couple had created the perfect balance between themselves and orbited around the family. Still, it was them against the world.

Jasper being the youngest — at least considered that way for being the last to join the family — was often the target for many quips in the family. From his stoic stare to his short fuse when it came to human blood, the blond would often be the butt of the joke. And it never seemed to anger him. He’d chuckle from time to time or roll his eyes at any lines that went just a little too far. But he never defended himself or asked them to stop.

His efforts were centered on keeping (Y/N)’s anger toward the family at bay. Though she was calm by nature, she despised the way their adoptive brothers picked Jasper apart. How they would jokingly criticize something the man could not control. It was often a topic of discussion when the pair enjoyed a rare moment of privacy.

“I’m going to squash them,” she huffed. “Are they not tired of the same jokes? Is there even an original thought in their heads?”

“There’s no need to worry your pretty little head over them, darling,” Jasper chuckled, placing a comforting kiss on her head. “I’m used to it by now.”

“But you shouldn’t be! Every day you work your hardest to control yourself around humans and I know how painful it can be for you. Then Tangina and Schwarzenegger come in and tell the same stupid jokes over and over again,” she exclaimed. (Y/N)’s arms flew up in frustration earning a chuckle from the man as he stared at her from where he lay. “It’s not funny, Jasper. One of these days I’m gonna blow and you’re not gonna be able to calm me down.”

“As much as I would love to see you say your piece to Edward and Emmett, I assure you I do not mind.” He took her hands in his, kissing the knuckles gingerly. “Their words do not affect me, darling. The only person whose approval I care for is yours.”

“And that you will have until the end of time.”

And that was the case for the next couple of years. Whenever they’d reach a new town the other two Cullen teens would joke about how Jasper could snap at any moment, and he’d wreak havoc in the city. They would say pick on him and laugh at him. The worst part, he simply took it, much to (Y/N)’s dismay.

She would grow angry, he would temper her emotions, she would complain about their brothers’ treatment behind their backs, and he would say it was fine. But it shouldn’t have been fine. He should never have gotten used to the unnecessary mean jokes from the older boys.

When they settled in Forks, (Y/N) already knew the cycle. New town, same jokes. The only difference this time, Edward grew obsessed with a particular human.

The day he’d come home from school muttering how he needed to leave for some time and hole himself up in Alaska, (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. There was Mr. Jasper-can’t-control-himself at the end of a downpour of blood frenzy. Everything he had jabbed at her partner with had come back to bite him.

She had laughed with Jasper that night, the jokes laced with actual worry that Edward would be the one to snap and attack a human. But the karmic retaliation had been far too exquisite for her to remain concerned. Revenge was always a very tasty treat.

But her small victory had not lasted long.

Only a week later, Edward had come back home with a recharged confidence. His woes about hurting Isabella Swan had died in a matter of seven days and he was ready to throw a hundred and ten percent toward forming a connection with the frail human.

And with Edward’s presence coming back, so did the overused jokes.

It had been a sunny afternoon in Washington and all the Cullens were stuck inside the house. Most of the morning had been uneventful, each of the family members reclused in their own rooms. The house was quiet and tranquil, peaceful. But that never lasted long. Especially when they were all home.

“So, Edward, this Bella chick is kind of… different, huh?” Emmett commented, his typical goofy grin spreading across his face. “But don’t you think it’s kinda dumb to get involved with a human?”

“Yeah, it might be,” he chuckled. “But it would be dumb of me to not even try. There’s just something about her that’s… intoxicating.”

“Yeah, it’s called human blood,” Rosalie spat. “Because she’s a human, Edward. The worst thing you could do is get involved with her. It could put her in danger. It can put all of us in danger.”

“There’s nothing wrong with testing the waters though,” he debated. “There’s truly something about her that calls to me. I need to see what it is.”

Anger had started sprouting inside (Y/N) as she listened to her family discuss the sudden apparition of Bella in their lives thanks to their adoptive brother. The cold that ran through her veins suddenly started growing warm, consuming her from the inside out. Not even the hand that Jasper had placed lovingly on the low of her back was enough to dissuade the ire that was taking over her.

“We’ve pretended to be humans for decades; I think I can do it for a couple of months with Bella. I just… I need to get to know her,” Edward continued. “I need to at least try.”

“And what will you do when she starts asking questions?” (Y/N) interjected. “How will you explain the cold skin? The fact that you don’t eat? The fact that you turn into a disco ball under the sun? How will you refrain from telling her you are a vampire?”

“I simply won’t tell her, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “It’s not that hard to not mention the fact that my family and I are a bunch of supernatural vampires.”

“You can’t even read her mind, Ed. How will you know she’s not coming up with conclusions on her own?”

“God, we can sit here a debate all night long on why it’s a bad idea for me to get in any way, shape, or form to get involved with Bella,” he retorted. “But it’s not really a family decision. I’m gonna see where things go with her, regardless of what any of you think.”

“So, you’re willing to put our family – our whole species – in danger, for a seventeen-year-old you met a couple of weeks ago?” (Y/N) questioned. Jasper was failing to calm her down. He could feel the angry red monster taking over her mind as she debated with Edward. Her emotions were taking over her reason and he could do nothing to help her. “I can’t believe you could be that reckless and selfish. Our entire existence depends on us being careful and guarding our secrets with our lives, especially in this town. If the Volturi don’t get you, I’m sure the wolves would be more than ready to put you in your place for breaking the treaty.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N),” he laughed dryly. Everyone could tell he wasn’t taking the dangers seriously, he was not taking her seriously. To the older boy, it was merely a conversation. “If there’s anyone we should worry about recklessly exposing our secret is mister short fuse over there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That it only takes something as little as a prick on a finger and fidgety Jasper will be pouncing on a human. The safest way for any of us to keep the secret is for you to keep a short leash on your husband.”

Edward had once vowed to not use his ability on his family unless absolutely necessary, and he had always kept that promise. That afternoon, he regretted it.

As everyone laughed at his taunting joke, (Y/N)’s emotions reached their peak. Her eyes had grown darker, and her hands had balled into fists. She couldn’t resist the wrath that had taken over her. All she could see was red.

One second, the family was enjoying the gag against the Cullen. The next, (Y/N) had pushed Edward hard enough to go through a wall in their picturesque living room. Dust filled the area, fragments of the wall thudding against the wall, falling around the boy. A mix of glass, wood, and gypsum board had scattered around Edward’s body, his body coated in a fine layer of dust.

The same expression of shock washed over each of the family members, astonished at the sight in front of them. Calm-mannered and good-natured (Y/N) had finally reached her boiling point. For centuries, she had always been able to keep herself emotionally balanced, even without Jasper. None of them thought there would come a day when they would see her temperament break.

Her chest was heaving, her nostrils flared, and her hands still stretched in front of her. She wasn’t breathing, instead, she was letting out every ounce of fury that still burned inside her. In a split second, she regained her composure. (Y/N) smoothed down her clothes and her usual smile spread across her face.

Silence spread across the room, the kind that was enough to deafen ear drums. It was tense and uncomfortable, filled with a type of discord they had never witnessed between them before.

“I think we can all agree that all jokes about Jasper’s, uh, condition shall only be done in private or inside our heads,” Emmett’s voice sliced through the silence, his voice booming and reverberating against the walls. “That was… unexpected.”

“But we can all say it’s a long time coming,” Jasper grinned, turning his attention to the woman he proudly called his wife. “And, darling, as much as I love that you’re defending me, I think it’s best we don’t put more people through walls. Alright, love?”

“I guess that’s doable,” she smiled.

The rest of the siblings broke into laughter. All but Edward that wore a scowl on his face as he wiped away the white dust from his face. (Y/N) couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest. After years of biting her tongue and holding back her feelings, it felt exceptional to finally shut Edward up.

“Well, Edward, it seems you and Emmett will have to set aside some time to fix that wall,” Carlisle grinned. “Can’t have your new girlfriend coming over and seeing a person-shaped hole in our new living room.”

“Why do I have to do it? (Y/N)’s the one that pushed me!”

“Let’s call it your apology for taunting Jasper for the past few decades,” Esme responded before joining her retreating husband. “Now get to it, boys.”

“How is that fair?”

“What can I say, Eddie boy?” (Y/N) grinned. “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jasper and (Y/N) promptly sped outside, needing a moment to themselves after the chaotic scene that unfolded. When they reached the clearing they often sneaked out to, the blond wrapped his wife in his arms and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

“I can’t thank you enough for defending my honor,” he smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Though I can’t say Edward didn’t deserve it, maybe next time we can try to use our words rather than our hands.”

“I’m offended, Major. It was a calculated reaction after years of bullying.”

“(Y/N),” he lovingly reprimanded. “You know better than that.”

“Alright, love. I promise I won’t throw Edward into a wall ever again,” she smiled, pecking his lips. “But I can’t promise I won’t find other ways to get even.”

“I would never expect less.”

At that moment, everything was perfect. Nothing and no one could ever have predicted that in less than a year Bella Swan would infiltrate their family, that all the quips against Jasper would accidentally turn into reality, and that life as the Cullens knew it would drastically be altered.

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[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 25 . Rumination

a/n: Fun fact: when I drafted the storyboard for this it was suppose to have 19 chapters but when I wrote it it ended up having 26 chapters... idfk what happened...

tags: feelings in progress

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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“So you actually have the option of just giving out your vitality instead of absorbing someone else’s wound?”

Choi Han asked _____ as the healer examined the scratch on his palm.

“Yeah, that’s what the God of Death told me. But honestly, this is easier to do.”

At that moment the scratch transferred over to _____. Making Choi Han retreat his hand.

“_____-nim give that back. Give it back right now.”

“Why are you asking for it like it’s something you bought? Plus it’s just a scratch, look it’s barely visible on me.”

The healer looked at the swordmaster confusedly. They couldn’t understand why his so adamant about returning the wound.

“At least take some of my vitality.”

“What–? No way! I just healed you!”

“Then give it back _____-nim.”

“Give what back?”

Cale– no. Naru’s voice suddenly interjected in the conversation. He looked at the two, curious as to what they could have been arguing about.

“Human you’re back! _____ was practising their healing abilities on Choi Han but then got impatient and absorbed the wound instead. Now Choi Han is asking them to give his wound back!”

Raon answered Cale’s curiosity instead of the two. The now 12-year-old child could only frown and shake his head.

“_____ remember that we agreed that you’ll practice because I won’t let you absorb anyone else’s wounds.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

_____ waved their hand off at Cale’s scolding.

And it's true. They have been working hard to adjust to the new change in how they use their power. It’s hard to not automatically absorb someone’s wound or sickness but the healer figured they’d master it soon enough.

It’s just that there’s a lot on their mind right now.

The blessing of the gods. White Star’s plans. Cale’s real identity. Their feelings.

It’s just a lot to take in all at once.

Others understand that the healer’s mind is complicated. That’s why they don’t put any pressure. Reassure _____ that they are mostly in the Endable Kingdom for Cale’s peace of mind. That they can relax because they’d only have to move if it’s an emergency.

“You also know about our human _____?”

Raon spoke vaguely one day. Despite that, the healer still understood what he meant and the reason for his vague words.

“I do. It’s a secret among the four of us right?”

_____ put their index finger on their face to emphasize the secrecy.

“Yes! I won't tell anyone!”

The dragon spun excitedly around the room. It makes _____smile, it had been so long since they’d talked with Raon and they were glad his as energetic as before.

However, the mention of Cale’s secret got them thinking about his real identity. _____ didn’t mind it. The current Cale is the one they knew. So they have no qualms about his identity.

But they did fear the chance of those who knew the original Cale finding out. Like his parents or Ron.

What would be the chance that they’d be sad? Upset that all this time it actually wasn’t their Cale but someone else.

_____’s heart ache at the thought of it.

Cale– no, Kim Rok Soo sounds like he already lost so much. It would be unfair if he lost his biological family here too.

Something like that happening would be cruel.

Not just to Cale, but to his family as well.

“You know… This kind of feels like I’m on babysitting duty.”

_____ suddenly said while eating dinner with Naru.

“...What the fuck?”

The disguised man almost choked on his food at the random statement.

“_____… No… Please…”

A sour look painted his face. As if the thought of _____ babysitting him was so vile.

“I understand. Stop looking at me like that, I’ll shut up about it.”

The healer laughed before continuing to eat their food. A few minutes of silence lingered as the two finished their food.

After eating, the two decided to hang out on Naru’s bed. With _____ sitting on it while Naru lay his head on the healer’s lap.

“Are you having a hard time?”

_____ stroked Naru’s white hair as they asked the question.

“Just a bit.”

He answered truthfully. The healer hummed, encouraging him to speak further.

“But it’s manageable. I’m doing it for our friends after all.”

“I’m glad. Once we solve this let’s get you that slacker life.”

Their conversation ended at that. Both decide to silently bask in each other’s presence. Lost in their train of thought.

Friends…

Cale’s response to _____’s question made the healer realise something. It made them realise just how loved they are right now.

How they have been so focused on other things that they didn’t notice it. Too busy chasing the ghost of the past. Getting validation from those who will never give it. When in fact they already have so much.

They have found their real family. They are so loved.

Just now are they realising such facts.

Regret and happiness rush through their body at the reflection.

Satisfaction comes along right behind them.

‘Yeah, things as they are right now are fine. I don’t need anything else, just my friends and their love. There’s no need to pursue romance. I’m sure it’ll go away someday.’

Was what _____ thought to themself.

However, some time later…

“Do you know just how much my heart longed for you while I was away?”

“Cale..? Excuse… me..?”

[night-market-if]

Answering some bulk questions

I am getting the same kind of questions in my inbox and instead of answering them all individually, I thought I would just make one long post. Hopefully that can clear some things up.

Why is m!pen white and f!pen black?

Mostly because the character of Pen is death. They have no form. Not a real one. Much like the MC, the image they are presenting is a construct. So, when I thought about that, I kind of thought it would be fun to play around with two very different aesthetics (I think in the final edit I might even write them a bit different). I did this for two reasons. One, because I haven't really seen this in ifs. And two, I kind of liked the duality of it. Opposites, really. It sat well with me for the character of death.

2. Why does nothing bad ever happen to Milo? Stop playing favorites.

Bad things have happened to Milo. More so than the other characters, I would argue. I have a feeling this is more from people annoyed that a very specific bad thing won't happen to Milo. Because Milo has watched Malcolm and MC die. Was beaten as a child. Orphaned. Didn't know where his real home was or who he was. Has a ghost for a sister. (who he also watched die). Has been responsible for keeping his best friend sane for quite a few years. And got the shittiest job in the world. He has also been stabbed at quite a bit. Betrayed. And used.

I do a lot of bad things to Milo. Favorites would be if nothing bad happened to him. And defending your characters decisions is not playing favorites. It is just knowing your characters as a writer.

3. Who is your favorite RO?

I have said before that Milo is not my favorite to write. So inevitably I get asked who is. I don't answer this question because I don't want the complaints.

4. Why don't you have stats?

Because I don't like them. I come from much more of a storytelling perspective than a game mechanics one. And don't get me wrong. People that do game mechanics are awesome. I admire them a ton and enjoy their games (though my field is more video games). But that's never what I wanted the Night Market to be. I just want people to be immersed.

5. Do you feel you have to have inclusivity as a writer?

I don't know why I've been getting this one a lot. Might be something going on in the community. The honest answer is no, I do not. I have never felt pressured to have a certain representation within the Night Market. That all being said, maybe I don't feel that way because I tend to have an organically more diverse cast of characters? But I can't say I have ever felt like I have to put a certain representation in. And I don't believe writers should feel pressure for that. Because a lot of times, if you are just putting in a token character to do it, it becomes a bit problematic.

6. What are your favorite IF's and do you have recomendations?

I hate to say this, but I don't read IF's. I've dabbled occasionally in the past but I find when I read IF's, it messes with my head and my ability to write. Now, I read a lot of novels. That is my preferred vehicle of reading. But as for IF's, I probably won't read a lot of them until I am officially done with the Night Market. I struggle to enjoy stories when I feel like it is a part of my day to day job.

7. Why don't you ever speak out politically?

Because that is private for me. I don't want to. I want to provide an escape from the world. Not add to discussions that are being had by people far more adept than me. I leave my political feelings and responsibilities at home.

8. Why can't you provide (insert numerous topics) to the route?

Because coding and writing are a bitch. There is a lot of work that goes into this stuff that isn't always fun. And sometimes, as much as I would like to put something in or have a new route, I just can't. I am one person. A person who has a pretty hefty personal life. I am doing what I can.

[randomationality]

you know those post-war AUs were the main bots have kids or smth? Yeah uhhh this is mine and its connected to that PRE-WAR AU I have!!!!

rambling because i was BORN to be a yapperpacker 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

(also i did NOT think this AU through this is actually the most ASS my writing skills have been💀)

How my version of this some AU works idk:

(Almost everyone names their kids after someone omg)

Okay, post-war, set on Cybertron, some bots have kids now, and everyone's happy, just the basics. This is about how the 'families' work, I guess.

Megatron and Optimus are brothers again!! Yay!! Optimus and Elita-1 are now CONJUXES YAYYY and had two* sparklings, Trion (a mech) and Elariel (a fembot) (I ACTUALLY need to work on names). Starscream and Windblade are the leaders of Cybertron, with two sparklings, Solrizon and Skylight, who have a Satsuki and Mei Kusakabe dynamic. Terminus, Orion and Paxton are cousins with Trion and Elariel, with Solrizon and Skylight being family friends. OKAY TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE THREE BUCKETEERS NOW.

Terminus

Terminus is the eldest son, being around 15 in human terms. But out of him, Trion and Elariel (The three teens I guess) he's the youngest. He's got Megatronus' personality, being all smiley, energetic, confident, awkward and funny. He lets the lil' bots put stickers on him (well, he's kind of forced to so they won't "PLEEEASE".) but he doesn't really mind, even if they're THOSE kinda stickers from two dollar shops. He sometimes trains with Megatron to learn how to fight like how Meg was taught with his D-Construction Unit.

Just like his dad, he LOVES comics especially the climatic fight scenes. But, his favourites are those two-page ones with the most ETHEREAL, MAJESTIC, and BREATHTAKING pieces of artwork ever. He just doesn't tell his dad that 'coz he thinks it's something too "soft" for someone like him.

The Twins, Paxton and Orion

The troublemakers. At least one is more calm than the other. They're both around 7 in human terms, but Paxton is about a minute older. They're curious bots, eager to go on adventures and run about, but Orion - being more thoughtful and cautious - gets a wee bit concerned when a spot they've found looks a bit too sketchy for them to go to. Paxton on the other hand is the risktaker, and always the one that gets the two in trouble. The biggest hiding he got was when he got hurt from trying to save a Mechanimal stuck on the side of a CLIFF. But even from all those unfortunate times, the two are close and never leave each other's side.

Yet just like any young sparkling, they ask A LOT of questions, especially about their names.

"Kore*, why did you name us after Kora* Op?"

"Yeah, and why did you name Termie after Koro*?"

"Why did you give us someone else's name?"

"Why didn't you just name us our names?"

The naming-after-family-or-others thing is something Meg is tired about. He actually gets tired of all of them sometimes, but he's actually grateful and happy he has three sparklings, and would do anything to protect them.

*Just to clarify, sparklings aren't born the same way humans are coz yk aliens

**Kore is "Dad" in Kaonese, Kora is "Uncle", and Koro is "grandfather" is Māori (I was lazy because I'm tired and my laptop is gonna die so I had to think fast). I'm trying to get Sub-Cybertronian languages going on, I wrote a whole thing about Vostos - Vos' language - in a notebook. I still have a LOT to work on.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Congratulations!!

If you feel inspired by this combo and have time, could you write a ficlet using "I", 🍨, 🥰 or 😂, and 🔨?

Thank you!

(Apologies if you already got this ask--my device froze when I sent it the first time, so I don't know if it went through)

Thank you so much! 🥰I still remember your lovely comments on the mer-dude fic, so I hope you enjoy this little bonus! 🦕❤️🧜🏻‍♂️

Of mates and mer-dudes

Words: 996

Rated: T

Tags: summer camp AU; mer!Steve; established relationship; flirting; sexual tension; fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as Just add water

��Hammer.” 

“Hammer,” Eddie repeats dutifully. Dustin spends two or three seconds trying to drive the nail in with the object he's been handed, until he realizes it's a screwdriver. 

“Very funny. I said hammer.” 

“Apologies,” Eddie mutters, chucking the screwdriver back into the mess that is their toolbox with one hand and wiping his sunburnt forehead with the other. “I think we've been out here longer than is strictly healthy. How ‘bout we call it a day and head back to camp? It's almost dinner time.” 

Dustin scowls. The hair under his Thinking Cap is matted with sweat and he is red-faced and splotchy. An unavoidable side effect of working out on the secluded pier all afternoon. 

“We can't just stop now, it's almost done,” Dustin claims, gesturing at their rickety construction of wood and mesh - it’s supposed to be an oversized fish trap, even though Eddie thinks it’s turning out to be more of a funky modern art installation. “This'll work, I know it. This time, I'll prove that Lovie is real. All those past times, it got away too quickly, but if I could just-” 

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie groans. “You and your lake monster. You don't know when to give up, do you?” 

“Give up?” Dustin scoffs. “If Thomas Edison had given up, we'd still be lighting candles. If Homer Ahr had given up, we would've never walked on the moon. I sure as hell won't-?” 

“The fuck is Homer Ahr?” 

Dustin heaves a long-suffering sigh. 

“Only mission control's chief engineer, Eddie? Honestly, that's the kinda question I'd expect from Steve, not you. Where is he, by the way? I thought he wanted to help us.”

“No idea,” Eddie admits. “Lucky bastard.” 

Dustin draws a breath, probably to ask what he means, but Eddie is saved by the sound of the dinner bell floating over from the camp grounds. 

“Okay, you gremlin, off you go,” he says, pushing the kid towards the sound before another argument can break loose. “We can finish this tomorrow when we aren't dehydrated and grouchy.” 

Dustin grumbles. “What about you?”

Eddie waves him off. “Be there in a sec, lemme put away your shit first.” 

He starts picking up their scattered tools, throwing them back into the box. Only when he's sure that Dustin is well out of earshot does he collapse at the edge of the pier, naked feet dangling over the water's surface. 

“Man,” he says. “That kid, right?” 

There's a soft growl from behind him, and the barest of sloshing sounds, and a shadow falls over him. He only just manages to suck in a breath - knowing he'll need it - before a massive snout pushes between his shoulder blades and he goes plummeting into the lake. He’s dimly aware of the toolbox going down with him, and then the world vanishes in a whirl of bubbles.

He resurfaces to the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and massive fins brushing his legs, and the sound of laughing voices - one human, one very much not so. He tries to glower at their owners, but actually needs a second to part the sopping curtain of his hair.  

“So fucking hilarious, you aquatic asshats. I thought I told you to quit doing that.” 

Lovie the lake creature just chirps merrily and dives back under again, splashing him with her fins as she goes. 

Steve shrugs. The motion makes tiny droplets of water run down his bare shoulders and collarbones, bringing out his freckles and moles and tiny, glittering scales. Eddie wants to lick them. He has long stopped worrying about what that says about him.

“Sorry. She just wants you in the water with us. She likes it when the flock is together.”

His smile is apologetic, but his tail curls around Eddie’s legs in the water, fins wrapping around the two of them possessively.

Because, see, here's the thing. Over the past year, Eddie has not only discovered that his infuriatingly pretty fellow camp counselor is a mermaid and the guardian of an ancient lake creature. He has also somehow managed to score said mer-dude as a boyfriend and been adopted into the lake creature's flock.  

“She never does that shit with Buckley,” he grouses, even though Steve’s words make something flutter in his chest. Steve's touch, also - hands on his hips, fins on his ankles. “She's part of the flock, too, isn't she?” 

“Yeah…” Steve blushes, a delicious pink hue on wet, sun-tanned skin. Eddie wants to lick that, too. “But Robin isn't my…” 

He trails off into an unintelligible mumble after that. Eddie wrinkles his brow. 

“Your what? Come again, fish boy, I didn’t-” 

“My mate,” Steve blurts, and the fins on his hips flutter excitedly under Eddie’s fingers. “Robin isn’t my mate.” 

Eddie feels his mouth drop open. The water is unpleasantly cold against his flushed skin. 

“Wait,” he says when he finally remembers how to form words again. “Hold on a second. When did that happen?” 

Steve’s face is still scarlet, but his lips start twitching when he meets Eddie’s eyes. “That’s just the way she sees it. You can’t expect her to think in human standards. Now c’mon, we gotta get to dinner or the kids will wonder where-” 

“Oh, no!” Eddie interrupts him, mouth tugging into a stupid, wide grin of his own. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to tell me that we’ve been mer-mated for God knows how long and never officially consummated that sacred connection. I’m gonna get a mer-divorce if you don’t-” 

“Oh God, shut up,” Steve groans, and kisses him. 

As he gets dragged off to their favorite little shore, well out of sight from the camp grounds, Eddie bids a brief mental farewell to the toolbox lying abandoned at the ground of the lake. He’ll have to make up some story about where it went when Dustin asks him, but that's a problem for later. 

For now, he’s got other things to think about. 

More celebration ficlets

[ash-says]

I think your page speaks volumes about the way you’ve perceived and endured life and I’m sorry you haven’t had the time or opportunity to soak up the good things that are all around you, I hope you develop skills that allow your success to be built off of things that are good and pure and not cheap manipulation tactics and lies

Devil may care: A guide on being unbothered.

Okay, and??

Sweetheart, I really appreciate your unwanted sympathies and illusionary sensitivity directed towards me. In our culture when someone is being sweet, kind and helpful (even if fake) we make sure that we pay them back with something valuable. Here's a small guide curated for you that will help you in being self secure so you won't feel threatened by other people's success and opinions.

1) Have a life:

Nothing screams idle to me more than this. Like you have time to be offended by someone's post and comments which you might just scroll by and ignore?? On top of that going above and beyond to let that person know. Okay, Sushma. Now log off and do the pending coursework.

2) Build genuine confidence:

Ladies, fake it till you make it can only go this far. You have to work on your underlying issues and address them. If you don't you are susceptible to triggering even by a mere stranger. Confident people don't need to go above and beyond to prove other people. They embody it.

3) Self awareness:

It's tiring to explain this. Just Google it at this point. This word is thrown like a football everywhere. You know it. Do the homework.

4) Practice self compassion and boundaries:

Negative feedback is part and parcel of life. Accept it, analyse and if it applies adopt or otherwise ignore. Boundaries are important to understand the difference between constructive criticism and disrespect.

If disrespected don't be afraid to put a bitch in place. Until then shut your mouth and concentrate on your goals.

5) Opinions are subjective:

Everyone has their own life experiences and opinions are formed based on those. Your Roman Empire might be different from your friends but does it mean it's invalid? No. Develop empathy and open-mindedness. Not everyone has the same views. It's okay.

6) Develop a thick skin:

You can't survive in this world if you are triggered by the tiniest of things. You have to be comfortable in being painted both as a hero and as a villain. Don't let others opinion get to your head. Owe to yourself that I will stand in my truth thou glory or disgrace.

7) Reflect a rbf stance:

When someone tries to belittle you, try to put you down, talk shit about you. Your body language should be cold and reserved with a rbf that screams intimidation but all you are going to say is Okay, and??

8) Master Sarcasm:

I have said this before and I will say it again. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Sarcasm is the ice in it. Ladies learn sarcasm. It's the one way ticket to put people in their place in a humorous way.

9) Be classy. Be polite. BE UNTOUCHABLE.

Who do you think will be named as the crazy one? The one who is screaming and belittling someone or the one who is still being polite but discreetly showing the person where they belong. Never resort to screaming and shouting. That's dumb. Second never go out of your way to prove how you are relevant. Take it or leave it mentality.

10) Seek professional help:

Even after all of this you are not able to practice being unbothered. I think a therapist is the best solution for you.

P.S. :Ladies, this is what I mean when I say leverage the fuck out of your connections and opportunities. This is how you turn a negative into a positive.

Plus I am petty enough to not let this disrespect slide but thought it would be a good content idea for my posts, isn't it??

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[altraviolet]

"Were my optics pure gold, would you accept them?

What would you take from me, that I could prove myself a changed mech?"

The whole poem, I have it saved bc it haunts me (and also bc I'm turning it into a comic strip but shhhhh I am very slow abt it)

oooh!! I'm so glad you enjoy that poem! and oooooohhhhhhhh a shh comic strip shh shh 👀 👀

if you'd like to know more about how I constructed the poem, I put it beneath the cut :D

I thought really hard about how Megatron would consider himself, regarding the destruction that he's brought to countless beings, and how that contrasts to the worth of his own life. So he starts by asking about that:

“By what metric would you judge me? What action deigns itself equal to the value of a life?

He's looking to make amends, as it were, and his approach to that process is to ask, "what would you take from me to make this equal/better now?" The optics line is part of that - he offers his eyes and the thing that makes him a transformer - the most precious things he can offer [side note, having him offer a physical part of his body that humans do not have an equivalent to helps the world feel more real and transformers-y]:

Were my optics pure gold, would you accept them? Were my T-cog indestructible, would you have it? What would you take from me, that I could prove myself a changed mech?”

He deliberately pauses the poem recitation to change his physical position. this emphasizes a change in thought process- he wants to offer another approach to this trade off:

Here Megatron's stance shifted from a defensive posture to open arms.

Now he suggests that he should give something physical of himself freely instead of having it taken from him by another [note, more non-human anatomy]:

“Or perhaps I should give. Shall I give you the fine circuitry under my fingertips? The soft lining of my spark chamber?

But taking or giving physical parts of his body won't really accomplish anything. It can't bring anyone back, and it will only leave him damaged. So at the end he offers something immaterial, but perhaps worth more than anything in his physical body:

Or may I give you something else entirely? May I give you my word, my actions, my solemn promise that I seek to be better than I once was?”

This is Megatron still struggling to accept his part in what's happened. It's not stated outright much in the fic - because this isn't really a fic about Megatron - but we do see hints of this: he has to deal with his namesakes' destruction over and over and over and over. Every single dimension they go to, he sees what another Megatron has done. He's taking the punishment for all of them, in a way, by living with all that knowledge and guilt.

So yeah. He's still struggling with the whole idea of it, and he's still trying to prove to everyone that he has changed. I'm so happy you enjoy the poem! It seems to have accomplished what it set out to do <3

Thanks for the kind ask!

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hi, sorry to bother you I know requests are closed but can you do a romantic x reader oneshot on Ray Manchester/Captain Man ❤️ for valentine's day

(Where ray falls quickly in love with the newest helper at Junk N'Stuff (unaware that Jasper put out an ad in the swellview news paper saying that junk n stuff is looking for a helper) and wants to ask her out on a date after mindless flirting with her a bit and working his charm on her, on the day of Valentine's Day Ray wanted to set up a surprise romantic dinner for him and the reader down in the Man Cave even though Henry and Charlotte tried to talk him out of it since the reader doesn't know about the elevator, or the Man Cave, or that ray is Captain Man saying that bringing the reader down to the man cave was a bad idea, but ray had decided to tell the reader his secret during dinner so there won't be any secrets between them due to the fact that ray wants to start a relationship with her. During dinner ray finally told the reader his secret which thrilled her (after she found out about the elevator and met and befriending Schwoz), at the end Henry came back after he forgot his backpack and saw both Ray and the reader sharing a long passionate kiss together due to his dismay)

My Valentine || Ray Manchester/Captain Man x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • ray manchester masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: when you start working at junk n’ stuff, ray is immediately attracted to you and wants to do something special for you on valentine’s day

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none

a/n: hey!! happy valentine’s day!! i love this idea and i rushed to get it to you by v day so you could spend the holiday with ray 🤭 hope u enjoy this love!! 💌🫂🍒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Henry!” A voice called from somewhere behind you “Where’re my beans?”

     “What?” Came the reply.

     “My lucky beans!”

     “I think Jasper has them,” the boy who must’ve been Henry shouted. 

     You turned around to find the source of the yelling, but you couldn’t see anything behind a curtain that blocked of the front of the store from the back.

     You had only been working here at Junk N’ Stuff for a few hours and you were still a bit confused about some aspects of your job.

     Jasper, the curly-haired boy who’d hired you, had given you a quick tour of the store—except for the back, which he’d said was due to the construction happening—before ushering you behind the counter.

     It was odd, you thought, leaning on the desk—you hadn’t heard any sounds of construction over the past few hours. 

     You looked over at Jasper, sorting though a pile of pails and buckets with vigor and ignoring the conversation he had obviously heard about him and beans. He caught you watching him and smiled.

     “I’m looking for the bucket that belonged to Louis XIV,” he called, “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

     You shook your head, “Can’t say that I have, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

     You sighed. It wasn’t your ideal job, working at a junk store. But you had known what it was when you applied for the job after seeing the strange yet intriguing ad in the paper. And this job would do in the mean time while you figured out what to do next.

     “Why would Jasper have my beans?” You heard the first voice again, closer this time.

     “Something about hair growth? I don’t know,” the younger voice answered.

     You weren’t aware that anybody else worked here besides you. You didn’t think the junk store needed more than one or two employees. You hadn’t even seen one customer enter the building all day. 

     The ad had said they were ‘looking for someone to watch over the shop—the perfectly normal, nothing-at-all-weird-about-it shop and handle customers full time. Must have experience with plants’.

     You’d thought that part was weird—actually the whole advertisement was odd—but had ultimately looked past it. The pay was good and you needed a job right now after the unfortunate end of your last one.

     And the store did have some cool items, if you were into that sort of thing. You played with a toy monkey dressed like Elvis Presley laying behind the front desk.

     “Jasper!” A man pushed through the curtain and entered the room. He wore dark jeans and a tight-fitting yellow shirt. He was followed by a blond-haired boy and a girl with dark hair.

     Jasper looked up from where he was sitting.

     “Hand over the beans,” the man said, his back turned to you. 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jasper held his ground. “Henry, Charlotte, tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

     “Nice try, but your hair wasn’t that lustrous and voluminous yesterday!” The older man shouted.

     The girl—Charlotte—massaged her temples. 

     “Just give him the beans, dude,” Henry said. 

     Jasper ran a hand through his hair, “Oh all right.”

     He reached into his pocket and handed something to the other man. But not before kissing what must’ve been the beans and whispering ‘I’ll miss you, my little hair-miracle workers’.

     You watched this whole thing with a strange amusement. What had you gotten yourself into?

     “Oh, Ray,” Jasper said, perking up, “Speaking of beans, I hired a new helper.”

     “You what?” The man—Ray—asked.

     “Yeah, you what?” Henry echoed.

     “Well, you know how you’re always saying we need someone else around to man the shop because I’m just too handsome to be believably working at a junk store?”

     “Literally never said that,” Ray said.

     “You’re delusional,” Henry said at the same time.

      “You’re foot’s stuck in a bucket,” Charlotte added 

     “Well,” Jasper continued, shaking the container off of his foot, “I hired some help!”

     He gestured to the front desk.

     “Jasper, we’ve talked about making decisions without asking me first. I told—” Ray started as he turned around to look in the direction of where you were standing. 

     You attempted a small wave. 

     “—Hello there,” the man finished, his voice taking on a slower cadence. He walked over to you and leaned an elbow on the desk. “I’m Ray. Ray Manchester.”

     He held out his other arm and you shook his hand. “I’m (Y/n).”

     The first thing you noticed about him were his eyes, such a bright shade of blue. You couldn’t deny he was an attractive man, you thought, as you took in his features. You caught yourself staring and quickly looked down.

     Ray rested his chin in his hand and looked you up and down, “So, you work here at Junk N’ Stuff?”

     “As of four hours ago, yes,” you smiled. “Do you work here also?”

     “I’m actually the owner,” Ray smiled at you. “I’m kind of an entrepreneur.”

     “Are you now?” You fought back a laugh at his confident tone. 

     “You bet, darling. And as the owner and this fine establishment, I hope you’ll come to me if you have any questions or concerns about anything,” Ray said smoothly, leaning towards you.

     “Do you treat all your employees this nicely?” You replied, smiling.

     “Just the beautiful ones,” Ray said and even though you knew he was shamelessly flirting, you couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “Especially the ones I hire myself.”

     “Hey—” Jasper started, probably to argue that he was the one who had given you the job, but Ray interrupted him.

     “So,” he continued, “Since you now officially work here, I am required to conduct a, uh…”

     He fumbled for words.

     “Stay Conversation?” Charlotte supplied.

     “That!” Ray said, “Which means I have to ask you some questions about how you’re liking your job, the hours…your boss.” 

     Charlotte smacked her face with the palm of her hand.

     “Ask away,” you said. You were positive this was something that shouldn’t be done mere hours after you began working at a place, but you decided to humor him. 

     “Question one,” he started, “how are you liking your time at Junk N’ Stuff so far?” 

     “I’m liking it very much,” you said.

     “Excellent,” Ray continued, “which brings us to number two. Are you seeing anyone right now?” 

     “So not how a Stay Conversation works,” Charlotte walked away. 

     “Shut up!” Ray whisper-yelled. He turned back to you, “So, your answer to question number two…”

     “No,” you laughed, “I can’t say that I am.” 

     “Very interesting. And, how would you describe your ideal romantic partner?”

     “Oh, I don’t know,” you said playfully, “I like blonds.”

     You said it just to mess with him and you enjoyed watching him process your statement. 

     “Question three. Would you ever date someone who’s not a blond?”

     You giggled. “Depends on the someone. What’s your type Mr. Manchester?”

     “I like beautiful women who prefer blonds,” he winked at you. 

     “What a shame,” you tapped his chest, “I like men who like women who prefer brunette’s”

     Ray got a faraway look in his eyes as he tried to work that one out. 

     “I think you’re just trying to confuse me,” he accused.

     “Guilty as charged.”

     You were close now and you really studied him. You’d been enjoying the back-and-forth banter and you hadn’t realized how you’d both leaned towards each other. 

     You took your gaze from Ray to the floor and back to Ray again, and found him staring at you intently. 

     “So is the questionnaire over?” You said to break the silence.

     Ray nodded, “I found out all I needed to know. You are so transparent, Miss (Y/n).”

     “Oh yeah? And what’d you find out?”

     “Well, I now know you have a thing for blonds,” he said and at your smile he continued. “I know you’re smart and funny and pretty—although I didn’t need a questionnaire for that—and, what was it? Oh, you think I’m devilishly handsome and are wondering how I get my hair to look this good, because it certainly isn’t because of those beans.”

     “You’ve got me all figured out,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. 

     “You’re an open book, gorgeous.”

     “Well,” Henry’s voice interrupted your conversation and you instinctively stepped backwards. “I’m uncomfortable, so I’m going to bounce.”

     You knew you should be getting back to your job and Ray probably had something to be doing as the owner of this place, but you were enjoying talking to him and you wanted to know more about who he was.

     “So, we’ve established that you know everything about me,” you said. “But what about you? Who are you besides handsome business owner with beans.”

     “First of all, told you so,” Ray said winking, “and second of all, I am so much more than—in your words—handsome.”

      A look of determination crossed his features and you furrowed your brow. 

         “You wanna know what else I do, babe?” Ray leaned forwards, “I’m actually—”

     “—a knitter!” Henry finished, rushing over, eyes wide. “Ray loves knitting.”

     The boy glared at Ray and he rolled his eyes.

     “Yep, I just love yarn,” Ray said mechanically.

     You looked between the two, at the unspoken words that had passed between them. What just happened? Was Ray keeping some secret?

     “I didn’t peg you as the knitting type,” you said.

     “Yeah, me neither,” Ray said to Henry through clenched teeth. 

     “Well, it seems I have a lot to learn about you,” you teased.

     “Oh (Y/n),” Ray said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     And that was how the rest of the week went. And the one after that. And the one after that. 

     You working at Junk N’ Stuff, and getting to know Ray. Trading quips as both of you tiptoed around the attraction that you obviously felt. 

     Well, you specifically felt. You couldn’t speak for him. He didn’t shy away from calling you gorgeous and beautiful every few seconds, but it had been 26 days and he still  hadn’t asked you out yet.

     You thought for sure, or at least hoped, that he would make a move, but he hadn’t yet. 

     And as the days went on, you found yourself wishing more and more that he would just do it. He was obviously attractive—you could tell that the minute you saw him—but as you spent more time with him you realized how funny and charming and interesting he really was. 

     You began to fidget with a figurine of a fox dressed like Cupid that was on the desk. Today being Valentine’s Day so did not help your mood as you pondered your romantic struggles. You layed your head down on the counter and let out a breath. The shop was completely empty and only you and your feelings occupied the space right now—you know, other than the piles and piles of junk.

     In fact, you hadn’t seen a single person since this morning. Which was normal in the way of customers—you were beginning to wonder if this was really a store!—but you were surprised you hadn’t seen Jasper or Charlotte or Henry. 

     Or Ray. 

     You wondered where he was right now…

…

     “No. Absolutely not.” Henry crossed his arms and sat down on the couch in the center of the Man Cave.

     “But why not!” Ray pouted.

     “Because it doesn’t matter how hot you think (Y/n) is! You can’t just go around telling everyone you’re Captain Man.” Charlotte finished, annoyed.

     “Yeah,” Henry echoed, “this is one of your worse ideas. And you’ve had a lot of bad ideas.”

     “But Henry, I love her,” Ray emphasized, ignoring Henry’s jab.

     “Ray, you’ve known her for like—”

     Ray picked up a weapon laying on the desk next to him and aimed it at Henry.

     “Alright man, you love her!” Henry said quickly, putting his hands up.

     “And that’s backwards,” Charlotte gestured at the weapon.

     “I knew that,” Ray said sheepishly, turning the thing around and setting it down.

     “But c’mon,” Ray continued, “we can trust her!”

     “Who knows where Jasper found her!” Charlotte exclaimed.

     “Then trust me,” Ray said desperately, “I’ve never felt this way about any girl before. She’s intelligent and sweet and I really feel like she gets me. I want to ask her out, and I don’t want there to be any secrets between us!”

     Henry and Charlotte shared a look. 

     “I don’t know, man.” Henry rubbed the back of his neck.

     “I just don’t think it’s smart,” Charlotte said gently.

     Ray sighed. “No I get it. Superhero code and all. It’s in the handbook. You guys are right.”

     The kids looked relieved.

     “There’s a handbook?” Henry asked.

     “Was. Accidentally set it on fire years ago,” Ray said, dusting an imaginary price of lint off of his sleeve. He looked up. “And hey, why don’t you guys take the day off! You work so hard, and it’s Valentine’s Day. Go, eat chocolate!” 

     Ray shooed Henry and Charlotte away and they both stepped towards the tubes.

     “I guess we could go to Jasper’s Valentine’s Day party,” Henry suggested. “Y’know, so there’ll be actual people there.”

     “Alright,” Charlotte sighed, “but if he brings out that giant roll of cheese I’m leaving.”

     “Bye guys! Have fun!” Ray called as the kids disappeared up the tubes. “I definitely won’t be having dinner with (Y/n) in the Man Cave. And you’re good if I tell her I’m Captain Man, right? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

     Ray smiled, satisfied. “Schwoz!”

     The short man ran into the room. 

     “How do you feel about making this room look like Saint Valentine threw up?”

…

     “(Y/n)?”

     You turned to look behind you and found Ray standing in the doorway.

     He was wearing a tuxedo with a pink bow tie and holding a rose and that wasn’t even the most surprising part.

     “How did you get there?” You said, “I’ve been here since this morning, so unless you slept here…”

     Ray smiled and held out a hand to you, “Allow me.”

     You hesitated but finally placed your hand in his, smiling up at him.

     “What are you up to Ray Manchester?” You said.

     “Who says I’m up to something?” He said innocently, handing you the rose. You took it gently.

     As Ray pushed back the curtain, you caught a glimpse of the room beyond. Even though you’d been working here nearly a month, you still hadn’t been behind this curtain.

     Someone always found an excuse for you not to go back there and you were beginning to wonder if there really were man-eating lounge chairs behind the curtain. That had been Jasper’s latest explanation for why you could absolutely not look for cleaning supplies in the back. 

     Seeing it now, it looked…normal. Just a storage room with an elevator on the back wall.

     Ray walked you over to the elevator and stepped inside, bringing you with him.

     He took a deep breath, “You ready?” 

     You looked at him strangely. “Why wouldn’t—”

     But you never got to finish that sentence because Ray pushed a button and suddenly the world was rushing past you and jostling you around and turning your stomach inside out. You screamed and reached out for Ray. 

     You landed with a loud bang and you attempted to stand up, but your legs protested. 

     Ray grabbed onto you and helped to pull you up. You clung to him, shaky and sincerely hoping the contents of your breakfast stayed inside your stomach.

     “Don’t worry,” Ray said, rubbing your back, “Everyone has that reaction the first time they take the elevator.”

     “You mean this thing isn’t broken?” You managed, “That’s normal?”

     “More or less,” Ray said, looking unconcerned. “Now can you stand? Because you’re kind of wrinkling my suit.”

     You rolled your eyes but let go of his arms. You were feeling much more steady as the effects of the elevator wore off and you smoothed your hair down as Ray smoothed down his suit.

      You still didn’t know what you were doing down here and you told Ray as much.

     He smiled and took a step closer to you. “Let me show you.”

     He pushed a button and the elevator doors opened to a wide room and you gasped.

     The room was dimly lit, with candles lining the floor and rose petals sprinkled amongst them. Strings of hearts hung across the walls and ceiling and in the center sat a table, perfectly set, with two chairs next to it. A small man dressed in a maid’s uniform stood next to it. The maid winked and gave you a wave.

     It was beautiful.

     “Ray, this is—” You didn’t know what to say. 

     You looked back at him as he watched your face nervously. 

     “Do you like it?” He took a step backwards, “Because if you don’t then it was all Schwoz’s idea!”

     He gestured at the maid who yelled ‘hey!’ in outrage. 

     “No, I love it!” You said quickly. “I just—you did all this for me?”

     “Well, I helped,” Schwoz said, crossing his arms. 

     “Zip it, Schwoz!” Ray yelled before turning back to you. “Shall we.”

     He gestured to the table and you followed him there, taking a seat as he pulled out a chair for you before sitting in his own. 

     As Schwoz poured your drinks, you looked at Ray in amusement.

     “What?” He asked.

     “I just can’t believe…all this!” You gestured around you. “That you went to all this trouble for—”

     “(Y/n), it’s no secret how I feel about you,” he said quietly. 

     You stopped breathing. “And that is?” 

     “Well for starters, you’re gorgeous and—”

     “Medium or well done?” Schwoz interrupted and you turned to see he had a grill in the corner.

     You barely registered the question though. You were much more interested in what Ray had to say than the quality of your steak.

     “Medium! Annyway, like I was saying,” Ray continued, “Ever since—”

     “Do you want any seasonings?” Schwoz peered back around to your table.

     “Dang it Schwoz!” Ray pounded the table. 

     You giggled and put a hand on Ray’s. He looked down at your hand atop his and swallowed. 

     “What I’m trying to say is, I like you a lot, (Y/n),” Ray said. “I have liked you a lot from the moment I met you.”

     You smiled, “I like you too, Ray. A lot.”

     Ray grinned giddily before standing up, and beginning to pace. 

     “(Y/n), I like you so much that I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

     You furrowed your brow and sat up straighter. Ray walked over to the side of the room and pulled out a small tube of red and blue spheres.

     You raised your eyebrows as he took one of the balls and popped it in his mouth and began chewing what must have been gum.

     “And your secret is you’re a gum addict?” 

     You watched as he blew a bubble and suddenly a flash of light filled the room. You blinked and standing before you was no longer Ray in his tuxedo, but a superhero.

     A superhero who you recognized—who anybody in Swellview would have recognized.     

     “You’re Captain Man,” you breathed.

     “That’s right, I’m awesome,” Ray said, smirking and walking over to you.

     “So you—and this is—we are—” You processed all of the information at once. “This isn’t really a junk shop, is it?”

     “It’s as real as the meat Schwoz is cooking,” Ray said. Note to self, you thought, don’t eat the ‘steak’.

      Everything that you’d known about the store and everything that didn’t make sense all came together in your head. The pieces  clicking together perfectly.

     “This,” Ray continued, “Is the Man Cave. My superhero headquarters. Where I live. And the junk shop upstairs is really more of a front—and a place to keep Jasper busy while we fight crime.”

     “So Henry—” 

     “—Is my sidekick, Kid Danger.”

     “And Charlotte—”

     “She helps too.”

     “Jasper—”

     “Well, he doesn’t help that much,” Ray said, waving it off. “And Schwoz works for me.”

     “Wow,” was all you could say, “I had no idea.”

     “Yeah,” Ray said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess you probably don’t want to keep your job at the store now that you know it’s not really a real store. The only customer we ever get is Jasper.”

     “Are you kidding? This job is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said. “If I’d never been here, I wouldn’t be here with the Captain Man.”

     Ray stepped closer to you, a grin on his face. “Oh yeah? And what about Ray Manchester?”

     You shrugged, playing along “Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m kind of eternally grateful I met him too.”

     Ray wrapped his arms around you. 

     “Well, now that there’s nothing hidden between us, there’s one thing I’ve really been meaning to ask. So, (Y/n), will you go out with me? Will you be my valentine?”

   Valentine’s Day. That’s what all of this was for. You’d been so blinded by everything Ray had done for you, you hadn’t registered the pink and red theme.

     You looked at Ray, looking at you like he needed you to say yes. You took in the decorations behind you and all the effort Ray had put into making this a special evening for you. It was finally happening. The moment you had been dreaming of since you had met him.

     “Because if you say no, I promised Schwoz he could eat all this food,” Ray teased

     “Yes, Ray,” you smiled, feeling like your heart couldn’t swell with more joy and elation than it already had. “I’ll be your valentine.”

     Ray leaned in to kiss you and you leaned towards him, your lips meeting.

     “Aww, young love, so touching.”

     You looked over to find Schwoz watching you, and Ray shot him a glare. He scurried away and Ray brought his lips back to yours. 

     You kissed him and he kissed you and it was magical. His hands went to your hair and you wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

     You never wanted this moment to end. 

     “Hey, Ray, have you seen—”

     You and Ray broke apart and you looked at Henry’s shocked expression as his gaze went from you to Ray in his Captain Man uniform to Schwoz and the decorations.

     “I just thought I left my backpack here,” Henry said weakly, “but, uh, I’ll get a new one. See you later, Ray—or should I say Captain Man.”

     Ray turned to you guiltily, “I wasn’t exactly supposed to tell you about the whole ‘being a superhero’ thing.”

     He looked to Henry now, “She begged me to tell her, kid, I couldn’t help it.”

     You smacked him in the arm and Henry let out a laugh despite himself.

     “Besides, we can make an exception for my girlfriend, can’t we?” Ray said, grabbing your hand. 

     Ray’s girlfriend. You liked the sound of that. You leaned in and kissed him softly.

     “Right, well,” Henry looked at the ground, “I should go. Jasper’s cheese isn’t going to eat itself. Happy Valentine’s Day, you two.”

     You watched him turn to leave, smiling. You still couldn’t believe how perfect this all was.

     “And Schwoz?” Henry called, his back to you. 

     “Yes?”

     “Nice skirt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope u enjoyed this babes 🫶 i think im going to start a ray masterlist so look out for that!! have a lovely valentines day!!

[eaglyn]

Mr. Crazy and Mrs. Crazier | Dottore x reader smut

Warning: gore, human experimentation, dismantling of a human heart, psychopathic behavior Not proofread

You were just about the perfect being that he could imagine. In his eyes, you were smart, entertaining and downright gorgeous. Normally, Dottore wouldn't think such things about anything he didn't create himself, but you? You were different. You were perfect.

You were a very successful graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya's Amurta Darshan, some even say that you're the most promising student the Amurta Darshan's ever had. That was arguable. On the other hand, it was an unarguable truth that you were insane. You had about as much regard for human life as Dottore, or maybe even less. They tried to change you for some time, after all your knowledge and talent was definitely in the wrong hands considering your usual projects, which more often than not included human experimentation.

Obviously, they failed. When Dottore joined the Akademiya, he heard news of you, and he was intrigued. He searched for you day and night, week after week until you finally decided to see what his deal was, and once you saw his... creative potential, to speak lightly, you decided to teach him all sort of messed up tips and tricks, from the easiest way to disassemble a human body to reconstructing a human body with mechanical parts.

And that should give anyone the understanding of why and how Dottore was kicked from the Akademiya. When they learned of your cooperation with him, they were all but thrilled. In fact, they were mortified.

Dottore and yourself turned into a wicked pair, eventually ending up serving the Tsaritsa, but while he became a Fatui Harbinger, you just remained in the shadows, but eventually earning the rank number 2.5, as you and him practically came as a package deal. You continued working together for centuries.

Unlike you, he had to resort do different means of achieving a long lifespan, but you were always by his side to give him new ideas and help him out with whatever he needed. As such, you went from his mentor to his lab assistant who would sit atop a countertop in his laboratory and entertain him.

Fatui agents would often hear howling laughter coming up from the lab as you two were working on a new project, and could only imagine which part of cutting young humans up was it that entertained the two of you so much.

In reality, you could turn anything into entertainment.

"Why are you holding the scalpel like that? It looks like you're trying to use it as a chopstick." You raised your eyebrows at one of his most recent techniques.

"Criticize all you want, princess, but it's easier from me to cut at this angle. See?" He maneuvered around the current test subject's ribs, attempting to cut her heart out, having a prototype machine in hand.

"Or you could've just removed the ribs? Why are you so afraid to put the device down, it's not like we didn't sanitize everything a few minutes before starting this experiment." You rolled your eyes.

"But we always take the ribs out, and putting them back is such a pain."

"For you. I thought I gave you a detailed demonstration on how to reattach nerves properly. Also, how do you want to take out the heart with everything still in the way?" You crossed your legs, feeling that you've won the debate.

"By taking it apart, of course. The machine is also attached piece by piece, so the lack of open space won't be a hindrance." He grinned back at you.

"Excuses, excuses." With that, you went back to constructing some random trinket out of spare parts.

After a while, he finally managed to remove the heart, taking all the bits in his hand and raising them in the air victoriously.

"AHA! I've succeeded- oh shit..." He dropped one of them onto the floor. He placed the prototype heart down onto a sterile field, along with the scalpel before walking over to you. "Here, I shall give you my heart." With that, he dropped the dismantled pieces onto your lap, staining your pants with blood.

"Ew, you ruined my pants!" You grabbed a few pieces and launched them at his face as a payback.

"How dare you? I give you my heart and you just throw it away? Why so cruel, Y/n?" Both of you break out laughing like maniacs as you continue throwing bits of the test subject's heart at each other.

"Alright, alright, let's compose ourselves now." You said, gathering the bits before throwing them into a jar.

Dottore installs the prosthetic heart and sews the person back up, and after he was done with that, the two of you transported her to a cell.

"Now we just wait to see if the transplant was successful." You hummed in response, glancing down at your bloodstained pants again.

"Oh come on, those are just pants, Y/n." The blue haired man said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"But I liked these pants." You pouted. They were white shorts tailor made for you, and you knew that you'd never be able to get the blood out of the expensive material.

"Well I prefer you without pants, you don't see me complaining." He stepped closer to you, settling himself between your legs as you sat on the countertop. "And without a shirt too."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, and he eagerly kissed back, while his hands were already creeping up on your torso underneath your shirt.

"In that case, remove them, Doc." And he just did that. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, attaching his lips to your neck while you pulled your arms out of the shirt, tossing it onto the ground.

You moaned softly as he continued sucking hickeys onto your soft skin, working on removing the belt from around your waist. When that was done, he pulled your pants down, tossing them onto the floor before going for your neck again, meanwhile his hand pulled your panties aside and he started rubbing your clit with two fingers. You threw your head back, moaning when you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, but then he pulled his hand away.

"Oh come on." You said, scrunching up your eyebrows.

"It's not fair if you get all the fun and I don't get any." He said before stripping himself of his clothes and going back to you. He unclipped your bra, pulling it off of your body and tossing it away before hooking his finger around your panties and ripping them off.

He took a breast in his hand while using the other to rub the tip of his cock over your clit, lubricating it in the process.

"Please just put it in." You whined.

"As you wish, princess." With that, he shoved his cock into your entrance. No matter how many times you've done this, the first few seconds always hurt. His cock was big by all definition, almost too big. The length couldn't even fit all the way in, while the girth was so thick that you felt like your walls were being thorn apart each time. He slowly pulled out before going back in, letting you adjust a little before he started thrusting at a steady pace.

You hummed in pleasure, feeling his veins graze against your walls, and it was like a little spark ignited inside your stomach every time his tip kissed your cervix. He continued thrusting steadily until he started to see signs of impatience on your face. Then he decided to speed up, kissing you hungrily before doing so.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth as he was thrusting inside you, squeezing your breast once in a while as well. You were a moaning mess, gripping his muscular back with your hands.

The way he felt inside you was intoxicating. You were addicted to him. Only he could make you unfold this way. The way he kissed you with such lust and hunger, and he knew all your most sensitive spots. He knew just how to reach that sweet spot that made you scream out loud in pleasure each time, and when he'd do that, he'd speed up and start thrusting into you at an inhuman speed right afterwards. You felt like your insides were being rearranged, while he just grunted into your ear, telling you how nice and tight you were, just for him.

After all, nobody has seen you like this. Not for a very long time, at least. And you were only the happier to know that you were the only one that he fucked like this, and the only one that he'd keep in his lap, cockwarming him as he did paperwork or some other task that would be way too boring other wise.

And just as always, now too he managed to time his release to yours, and he moaned out loud as your walls clenched around them while he shot his cum deep into you.

But he didn't stop after that, he never does. He waits until you get down from your high before thrusting into your overstimulated pussy for three more rounds, until there is cum dripping down from the edge of the countertop and both of you are completely exhausted.

Dottore then grabs you by your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, and he sits down on a sofa, where you both take a nap.

At times like this, it's not only the psychopathic hollering of two maniacs that the Fatui Agents hear, but also the way that he makes you completely lose your mind in pleasure.

[merakiui]

any freminet crumbs? personally i kinda think he’d be a little crazy like his older brother lyney,, it’d just take a harder push for him to give into his urges

Freminet strikes me as the silent observer type. He's sweet on the surface, but he's picked up a few nasty tricks and habits from Lyney. Freminet doesn't mean to stalk you; really, he's just so...fascinated. It's so difficult for him to put his love for you into proper words because he's just so breathless every time he's near you. He feels so warm and shy when you so much as look his way, and he'll often spend time at the bottom of the sea to decompress and escape his embarrassment (though he's often plagued with more flustering daydreams of you). Escaping to the sea is his version of screaming into a pillow. He's just so overwhelmed; he doesn't know how to approach you, and he dreads confessing. He just can't! It's too much. No matter how many times he practices on Pers, he can't muster the courage.

Freminet is a sweetheart, so he'd never want to hurt or frighten you. This is why he watches you from the sidelines, taking pleasure in the shadows. You shine so brightly when you aren't paying attention to him. He's just happy you even bother to exist near him... He doesn't deserve to be in your presence. If you were a god, then he is merely the ground you walk on. He worships you and everything you are. Lyney often likes to meddle, pushing you and his little brother together in hopes that Freminet will finally tell you his true feelings. It leads to more embarrassing mishaps than actual confessions, but it does bring you and Freminet closer together. It creates the wonderful thing known as inside jokes, which you often bring up when you cross paths with him. Freminet is mortified you'd remember, but then another part of him is flattered to know you think of him. Maybe he isn't so insignificant in your life as he once thought.

Freminet has patience (though mainly it's because he's too scared to admit his feelings to you), so he'll play the longest waiting game ever, choosing to drown in dreams of you. Sometimes Freminet likes you more than he likes himself, an obsessive trait he's picked up from Lyney. He can't help it; you're just so perfect. Everything you do, even your flaws and shortcomings, are perfect and beautiful to him. He wants you all to himself. You may think he's not nearly as severe as other yanderes, but Freminet is an "if I can't have you, no one can" yandere. He refuses to let you slip through his fingers. He loves you too much; you've brought so much light into his life. You stamp away his inner demons like they're nothing. You are a savior, a beauty, and a wonder all in one. He can't let anyone have you. He won't.

He thinks about confining you to the sea. He could find some way to put you in a glass box or construct a little home in which you can live freely but forever trapped. It's possible, and no one would ever know where you went. It will be a magical disappearance. Lyney's been teaching him how to make things disappear. He can do it if he's really determined. He keeps his secrets close and his infatuation even closer to his chest. It's as Lyney always says: the most devastating secrets are often the nastiest, so dress them up or hide them well. An obsession like this is all kinds of wrong, but you must understand that Freminet only wishes to love you. He won't cause you pain or stress, and if he does he sincerely regrets and apologizes for it. But this must be done. Sometimes a little pain is necessary before pleasure, much like how after a brutal storm there is a glorious rainbow (as Lyney once said).

Sometimes Lyney gets in his head, saying things like, "If you sit idly by, you'll miss your chance," or "Maybe I should try my luck with (Name). I wonder how far I'll get..." and then Freminet is so worried about asserting himself so that Lyney (or anyone else for that matter) won't steal you away. Though he's kidding (mostly), Lyney just wants to push Freminet in what he thinks is the right direction. But sometimes he fuels the obsession, gifting Freminet a ribbon of yours or a ring he's swiped from you whilst showing you a magic trick and Freminet treats these fragments of you like they're the holiest of all things.

No matter what happens, Freminet knows you're the one for him. Even if you look at him with disgust, even if you despise him for what he's done, he will continue to love you, for his adoration is as wide and deep as the sea; and he will drown you in it. You don't know it yet, but you'll love him, too. Soon. One day. He's hopeful.

Until then, he watches, a quiet, secret admirer whose love is tangled and twined with something dark and obsessive.

[appleblueberry-pie]

How did you get into fan fiction?

I began reading it one day. I remember I searched up my comfort character online, and a wattpad "x reader" fanfiction with them in it popped up, and I clicked it, and now here I am. Lol.

It was my high school senior quote, but at some point you have to stop consuming and begin creating. And as much as I loved reading fanfictions, I wanted to try it out. It was literally so bad, like I can't stress enough how bad the fanfictions were. My first attempt flopped and I took it down😭.

My SECOND one.....I worked on that for about 4 years. I got about half a million readers and then wattpad took the entire thing away. I was lowkey sick of writing just pure smut on it anyways. That's what the entire thing was. Just my favorite characters being fucked and that's it. The longest fic I've written was in that book, which was around 5.2k words and I haven't topped it since.

Anyways. I took a break writing fanfictions after that was taken down and shifted to AO3, where the first half of that popular book still remains. No, I won't tell what it is. I got obsessed with the site and ran through it entirely. Seriously. Everytime i tried to search for more content on there, all of the fucking titles would be grey bc ive already READ IT. ☠️ I LOOOOOOOOVED AO3 but it's literally dead. At least the fandom I was looking into was dead on that site. Very, very sad.

I felt neglected at that point and heard tumblr was good even tho i thought it was like a dating site. It's not, obviously. The first time I tried being on here, the theme and construction of the site really overwhelmed me, so I thought I still wouldn't like it. But that was 2 years ago, and now I'm writing about my favs on here, too.

Funny thing is, I shifted from smut to just pure yandere filth.

But the real thing that got me to write on HERE is that a looooot of people are on this site, and a lot of people post super often. I love being involved in communities like that. I also write on here because I felt the yandere community wasn't being represented correctly. I've been a big ass fan of yandere content since 2020. And I felt like if I shouted with my artistic language from the rooftops, people that deserve to have what they're missing in the content they read would find it in my works. The only yandere fanfics I find on here are rape and manipulation fanfics. There's a spectrum of yandere tendencies, and I try to show the whole lining to you guys.

But I wouldn't be able to do all of this without the influence others have put on me. All of these writers are way more than I'm saying on this post rn, and I couldn't be what I wanted to be known as if it wasn't for them.

[ijwrff]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any writing tips? I'm looking to improve on my writing skills and such, so I thought I should ask you for some tips

You're so sweet for asking me this ;v; I'm not sure how good my advice will be, but I'll do my best! You're never a bother, I'm honored you want my advice on this!

The main thing is find your style. Similar to drawing, everyone has a unique kind of style. It takes a long time to get there, and it doesn't even necessarily need to be something big and bold and 100000% original. Your style is what you're most comfortable or confident with! For example:

1st style: Third person vs first person

2nd style: Long and flowing paragraphs vs shorter and more to the point sentences

There's a million ways you can work on and find your style, and that mostly comes with practice! And you don't have to immediately start with anything big, but the best piece of advice is:

You wanna do a really big project? Go for it. Lemme explain, if you start off with something relatively difficult, then you can learn from each individual mistake and be more confident for the next big project. Writing is a form of art, and it takes time and patience to get to where you wanna go. Or, if the challenge seems too daunting, do something small, short, easy.

It's good to even it out! So in my case, Prisoner is the biggest project I have (aside from a challenge I'm doing for October), and I go through and do one or two requests that won't take as long to think and plan through than a longer story. Oneshots are an EXCELLENT way to get your feet in the water and start to find and develop a style.

Everyone writes differently, and no two stories are the same. The most important thing is to find your rhythm. Try new methods of getting things done! It could be anything that gets your creative juices flowing. An ambient ASMR video that reminds you of what you wanna write, making a flowchart on paper to remember what you plan to do with the story better, a google doc detailing all the different things you want to write and putting them in order.

Being yourself sounds like cheesy advice, but I feel like with creative arts...you learn a lot about yourself and what you're capable of. You can work and try new methods of writing, and finding out exactly what works best can be tough. And the important thing to remember, is art is subjective. Some people will send you hate, and remembering that you SHOULD be proud of what you creative will make a world of difference.

I rambled a whole lot, but basically I'm saying be patient with yourself. You're not gonna be perfect. No one is, but those little mistakes? They're reminders that we can ALWAYS improve, and create things we're truly proud of because it was the best we could do at that moment. As long as you look at your mistakes with an open mind, kind of like accepting constructive criticism, then you can get better and reach the place you want to be and are comfortable. Don't be perfect, and don't expect perfection. Expect to give it your best effort and learn from those mistakes you make.

I believe in you, you're kind and everyone needs to be told someone is proud of them sometimes. You're reaching out, which already means you want to improve and deserve to be told you'll create amazing things. Be kind to yourself, and know that as long as you do your best, you should be proud.

<3 <3 <3

[pequenaotaku]

Hot Chocolate

"Sentiments are complicated. Sometimes, I feel like I'm like hot chocolate in a steaming cup. The sweet and the bittersweet mix together with the help of a spoon, becoming a delicious and addictive flavor right after the first sip.

I wish that spoon would spend more time mixing me. I wish it never left the cup."

Versão em português

Headcanon scene from episode 01 after the cut

"So, this is the famous Devenementiel?" I asked aloud, to no one but myself.

The company wasn’t housed in a huge building, one you’d notice from across the city, nor did it make much of a presence in the commercial area, but it was undoubtedly a modern construction. Clear, clean, with many windows surrounding practically the entire building. Small, discreet, yet with a refined appearance. It looked like an interesting place, and I hadn't even seen the inside yet.

I approached the glass door, peeking inside, although I couldn’t see much beyond a very classic and comfortable reception area. It seemed the office was on the first floor. There was no one there; I had arrived too early. I clicked my tongue, crossing my arms. I could have lingered in bed longer, as any good freelancer does when there are no projects to deliver. My shift at the vintage records and knick-knacks store didn't start until the afternoon, after lunchtime. There was no need to go in earlier, and I didn’t have any other plans for that morning, so I’d have to kill time there at the entrance while waiting for one of the employees to arrive.

A few minutes passed with me distractedly looking at the week's recommended playlist on Spotify. If I wasn’t working on a project and wasn’t in a place where I could indulge in being an idle freelancer lounging in pajamas at home all day, seeing what other musicians were up to online was a good pastime. It would never stop being delightful to hear the ideas other artists produced and released with so much passion, to experience a new type of rhythm, seek inspiration and references, be immersed in someone’s vocal or instrumental sound. I took my eyes off my phone screen for a second to look at the company building once more. I felt a tingling sensation all over my body, thinking about the work I could do to contribute to the partnership I was about to finalize. It hadn’t even been a week since I exchanged messages with my only acquaintance there about this, following his strong recommendation.

"You’re early, Collete," the deep, monotonous voice of Thomas resonated behind me. I couldn’t help but smile before turning around.

"Speak of the devil," I joked, watching with amusement as his expression shifted from a slight look of boredom to a curious one. He almost always got lost in his own head during our conversations. I had come to understand that it wasn’t because he found me boring, but rather because he wanted to decipher my words. I seriously wondered what he was thinking at that moment.

"Wouldn't it be 'talking about the devil'?" he raised an eyebrow. It seemed I wouldn’t find out the reason for his silence this time. I just shrugged. "I was put in charge of handling the administrative details for your arrival, including the hiring of another person, which means making two badges along with the identification key so neither of you would have to wait at the door to get in. And since, apparently, we need to be up at the crack of dawn to make them… Here I am, arriving after you," he seemed irritated about having to wake up so early after a long night of work while giving me that explanation that sounded more like a rant escaping his thoughtful mind. I didn’t blame him. It really did seem like a pain.

"I’m glad I’m not the only one who had to drag myself out of bed today."

"More than me, it seems," I saw a hint of a smile light up his face. I winked at him. "Anyway, it won't take long. I’ve already moved things along, so you don’t need to worry. Come on." Without giving me time to add anything, Thomas opened the door, beckoning me to follow him.

So, we took an elevator, and I finally had the pleasure of discovering the open space of the place, which couldn’t be compared to the modern facade. Suddenly, I even started to think that it seemed too cold to accommodate such a warm environment. Inside, it was a complete lively festival of colors, plants, and curious objects. There were no partitions, and amusingly, among the empty desks, I noticed that each table was not only uniquely decorated but also had very different chairs. None were the same. It might have been a small detail, but it showcased the personality of each employee working there. Thomas guided me to the most neutral, organized, and sober desk. It was undoubtedly his.

"You can sit, it won’t take long," he said mechanically as he pulled the chair from the desk next to his for me. It was strangely shaped like a dolphin. It was cute but seemed so uncomfortable and impractical. I began to doubt the sanity of its owner.

"With all due respect, I prefer to stand up, in this case.", I flashed a sly, sarcastic smile, earning another hint of a smile.

"I also don't understand why people here choose anything other than the classic office chair," he commented as he sat in his own chair, turning on the computer. "It's designed for comfort and good lumbar support. In ten years, everyone will be walking with a cane, except for me," I couldn't help but chuckle. I never ceased to find it amusing how, sometimes, he would say such things without a hint of malice. It was just logical and straightforward. "Your desk is this one in front of mine. You’re practically an honorary employee, but the boss thought it would be better if you had one to feel like you belong. You can choose a chair model for yourself later. There's someone who always supplies furniture for us, and his store has everything."

"Far be it from me to give you more work…" I began, with a falsely gentle, sweet voice. "But since you know him, I'll let you handle the negotiations. That said, any model similar to yours is fine by me," he sighed heavily.

"Very well, then I'll take care of it later."

"Don't be like that," I gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Being the IT guy, manager of technology-related events, pressing buttons on a keyboard all day… I didn't give you a more torturous task than those things," I joked. He looked at me quietly for a while.

"You forgot to mention that I also greet new recruits," he simply retorted. I couldn't help but laugh again.

"Ouch," I put my hand on my chest, pretending to have been struck. This time, I really got a smile. Then, he opened a drawer and took out a folder, sighing loudly. "I agree with you, paperwork sucks."

"It's unbelievable how much time we waste on these things. Everyone should have a chip card with all our information registered. We'd scan the card and be done. All the information would be transmitted directly."

"That would be more practical, true," I agreed, shrugging. I had never stopped to think about it. He picked up a pen from a holder on his desk, looking at it with pity.

"Meanwhile, we'll stick with these… archaic methods," I blew air through my nose at his comment, shaking my head. He was incorrigible.

Taking the pen to sign the contract after a quick glance, as I had read it previously via message, I began to remember how we met. Pure coincidence. We both needed to buy a new refracting telescope, better known as a spyglass, as the old one was broken. It was the last one in the store and was on sale. I had my reasons for wanting it, and he had his. We argued for a long time under the weary gaze of the salesman, debating who, in my view, was more deserving to take it. Thomas was steadfast, he had arrived first. As for me, I needed to get it no matter what for personal reasons: to fulfill a tradition of promises made to my late older brother, to observe the showers of celestial bodies that occurred every year while drinking a bottle of hot chocolate in our special spot. It might have been nonsense; he was dead, after all. It's not like he was going to rise from the grave to demand that small promise I decided to make to no one and for no reason at all. But it made me feel closer to him; I didn't want to give up. In the end, somehow, we ended up splitting the cost, the telescope, and, on the night of the meteor shower, two bottles of hot chocolate accompanied by small childhood stories.

Nostalgia. Suddenly, I felt a strong desire to have a cup of that sugary, bittersweet delight.

After making the final curve of my name on the paper, Thomas took a laminated card from the drawer and handed it to me. It was my company badge that served to open the building's door. I stifled a laugh when I noticed that he had ignored the professional photo I sent and opted for my profile picture. Simply me making a face: a wide smile with my tongue out. One of my eyes was closed, and my hands were open beside my face, with my thumbs pressing against my cheeks. I liked it.

"Tom," I called his attention, pointing to the photo. A smile playing on my lips. "Is this really okay?" He just shrugged.

"That sounds more like you. The boss doesn't care so much about traditional professional standards; you'll quickly realize that if you haven't already," he replied simply, making a small gesture with his head to show the company's open space. It really didn't seem very conventional. "He's not the kind of person who evaluates people based on that kind of criterion."

"How funny… I'm starting to feel like I'm going to really enjoy working here."

"I'm glad you think so, because I spent a long time preparing and editing everything for your arrival. On the other hand, I don't understand what's so funny about it…" he commented somewhat reflectively. "It's just a picture of you; we can recognize you, and you look pretty. Traditional or not, it's still office work, not the most exciting thing in the world," I got stuck on his comment.

"Do you think I'm pretty in this photo?" I inquired with one raised eyebrow, exaggeratedly curious about his answer to that question. I had known him for almost a year now; I understood quite well how his little mind worked, modesty aside. But sometimes, I still struggled to differentiate when he was just being logical from when he was being sincere. If there was any difference between the two adjectives.

"It's a statement," he shrugged once again. "Your features are symmetric, your eyes are large, and your teeth are well aligned. These are parameters usually associated with beauty."

This time, I didn't stifle my laughter. Thomas Rheault was, without a doubt, an enigma. One that fascinated me a lot. If that was indeed a compliment, it was surely the least heartfelt one I had ever heard in my life. At the same time, it seemed so typical of him that I couldn't help but take it seriously. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe I was overthinking. It was always like this when it came to him.

"In any case, out of curiosity, what kind of person exactly is this boss?" I inquired, bringing the subject back. It was true that I hadn't had much contact with him. I was recommended by Thomas to work there in organizing one event or another; I liked my professional independence, but all the details involving the boring bureaucracies were solved through messages. My interaction with Devon Okere, the Big Boss, was limited to a brief phone conversation that barely lasted 10 minutes. He seemed like a mystery, or simply too unconcerned. However, being there, I noticed that, in addition to a free and unpretentious environment, there was also a lot of care. As a freelancer, I knew very well how complicated it could be to maintain a small business, let alone a physical office. So, I was quite curious about everything.

"I would say he's the instinctive type. As long as it works for him, he doesn't exactly have a reason to change methods," Thomas nodded, then glanced at the clock, then at the signed contract, and finally at me. "Well, it's done. The others won't take long to arrive. If you want to stay to meet them or take a walk around… Anyway, you have free rein here from now on."

"Uhm…" I pondered for a moment, licking my lips. I really didn't have anything better to do; what harm would it do to explore a little? Besides, a place like that really made you want to linger. "I think I'll take a stroll, yes. But mostly, I'd like to know if there's a kitchen here. I really need to quench my thirst."

Unexpectedly, he chuckled and stood up from his chair, standing right in front of me, forcing me to raise my head. Thomas was only a little taller than me, but throughout the conversation, I had seen him from above because I was standing and he was sitting. Now, however, and so suddenly, I felt a bit small and destabilized. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even know why I felt that way, as if something should happen. It sounded so cliché.

"Of course, make yourself at home. Actually, I was thinking the same thing," he resumed, snapping me out of my little trance. "If you'd like, I can treat you to a welcome drink," he offered politely.

"Oh, I'd love that, definitely!" I exclaimed, back on track. Better than quenching my thirst was having that desire sponsored by someone.

"The drinks machine is in the pantry; come on," he called as he started to move away, a shadow of a smile floating on his lips. I hurried to follow him. "We can get there by passing through the lounge area."

Just like the open space, that area was enchanting. Large, well-lit, and with vibrant colors catching the eye. Several bean bags, on which I would love to sprawl out, were scattered around along with suspended chairs hanging from the ceiling by chains. Not to mention the beautiful view provided by the large windows from top to bottom. They were just buildings, yes, but I began to imagine a nighttime scene with one or two colored lights still on outside. I couldn't wait to rest there.

"Man, this place looks like a dream!" I exclaimed in wonder.

"Yeah, that's what most people say. But I'll show you something else really cool…" he said simply, piquing my curiosity.

I followed him once again towards the adjacent area, the pantry. At first glance, it looked like some of the hipster cafes I loved to visit. Another very open place, with lots of plants, even on the ceiling, alternating with lamps. In the center, a large round table with a tree in the middle and red swivel chairs around it. Near the windows, small tables with benches followed the same pattern. It was indeed a very beautiful place, but I didn't understand why Thomas found it more impressive until I met the famous drinks machine.

"What would you like?" he asked straight away.

"Let me see what's available first…" I retorted as I quickly glanced at the options the machine offered.

"Don't expect to see anything exotic or innovative."

"No, I know. I'm just saying that to see what I feel like," I shrugged, and then I saw exactly what I needed to see. I loved it when life became so convenient as to combine utility with pleasure. "A hot chocolate, please," the redhead smiled slightly. Maybe he expected that answer from me.

"Good choice…" he took out his phone from his pocket and typed something, then, as if following a command, the machine started working. Thomas looked at me with a proud gleam in his eyes, and immediately I sensed that it was his doing. Finally, he took the full cup and put the lid on to hand it to me. "There you go, a delicious hot chocolate on the house!"

"Thanks!" I gave him a knowing wink, reaching out to get my little indulgence.

When I took the cup, my fingers ended up over his. Our gazes met before he immediately turned away, freezing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground or anywhere but my face. I kept my gaze steady; I wanted so much to unravel him, to know what he was thinking at that moment. Focus. I might not be able to read minds, but I was good at picking up on subtle cues.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, his gaze moved to the cup we both held. His cheeks turned slightly pink, he furrowed his brows. Adorable. I could confidently say that the little crease that appeared on his forehead wasn't from disagreement. Maybe he was just confused, wrestling with himself in thought. His beautiful turquoise irises flickered from our hands to elsewhere in rapid movements.

Oh, I really didn't want to misunderstand things, or worse, jump to conclusions. But looking at him like that, I couldn't help but daydream a little as I observed the red curls falling across his face, adorned with a few charming freckles over his nose, his eyes subtly shifting between intense blues and greens.

Cliché. Cliché. Cliché.

Suddenly, he released the cup into my hands and cleared his throat, composing himself as if waking from a trance, pulling me out of mine as well. Everything suddenly felt awkward, as if we had been trapped in that moment for longer than necessary. I also had to clear my throat.

"Is everything alright, Thomas?" I needed to know, I was eager. He glanced at me once again. Unbelievable how mesmerizing his eyes were. I gave myself a mental shake, seeking concentration. I really needed to control myself better.

"I'm fine, yeah… Everything's okay," he murmured in a thoughtful tone. "It's just that… I wasn't expecting there to be… contact," he really must have been confused even with himself this time.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" I gave a nervous smile, choosing my words carefully. I did mean to. But he didn't need to know that yet.

"It's okay," he interrupted me in a natural way. I smiled more relaxed, and he returned the gesture, also making another request to the machine, a drink that I couldn't see, but he took a sip of as soon as he got it.

"Tom… Thanks a lot," I thanked him, squeezing the warm cup of my drink in my hands, also seeking to change the subject as quickly as possible. "But tell me, do you have an app to control this machine? How does it work?"

"I developed it so I wouldn't have to pay for drinks anymore. The app tricks the machine into thinking I've paid, and it serves me what I ask for," he explained automatically and simply, shrugging as if it were no big deal. I raised an eyebrow. Sometimes, I forgot how crafty he could be.

"And nobody sees a problem with that, clever boy?" I grinned mischievously.

"No," he nodded, shrugging. "Actually, after I developed the app, Devon explained to me that everything was already free. There's the coin slot, but it's… a vestigial structure. I never thought about trying to order without paying. I have plenty of coins in there, by the way. I need to remember to download a lockpicking course. Unless you're an expert at it…"

"I can manage, yes… If you give me half as payment," I negotiated, feeling clever. He judged me with his gaze, and I just shrugged, sticking out my tongue. I'm a freelancer, you don't get if you don't ask. "How would you prefer the job to be done? There's the boring conventional way, using tools, and…" I paused for effect. "The messy way, where I blow up the door. If no one minds, that is."

"It's not the most elegant solution…" he made a minimal, yet very funny, expression of disgust. I had to laugh. "I'd be bothered by the idea of damaging it, so let's stick with the conventional solution this time."

"Agreed, then."

"Well…" he quickly scanned the area after the topic was over. "I need to go start working, or this chocolate break tends to become longer than expected. We'll talk later, enjoy your tour."

Without waiting for a response, he returned to the open space. It took me a few seconds to decide to follow, but not exactly to his desk or mine. Taking a walk around the place might help distract my mind. I was in trouble. And I had known it for a while. I knew very well what those desires for his attention meant. Everyone's tired of seeing this story in movies, series, cartoons, games, and books. It was scary. He, however, would surely classify it as illogical, I was sure.

I sighed heavily, taking another sip of my hot chocolate, hoping that the sweet and bitter flavors would help cleanse my soul, covering up that complicated feeling for a while longer. The brief time until my golden eyes met his turquoise ones and all that cliché resurfaced again.

[tac0tesseract]

Downtime

It was inevitable that sooner or later word got around proclaiming Emma “the computer kid” and she was absconded by the Karrakins for tech support. At least the diagnosis was simple enough: it's hot here, you idiots. Computers don't like heat. She got it, though; the printer was tied up making things more immediately important than air conditioning.

What concerned her more was that Sam wasn't there waiting for her when she got back. He'd been busy when she left, too, and for someone so insistent on being seen it was rare that he wasn't projecting. After a moment of peering down at his empty projection pad, she decided to pull the cord from her pocket, sit down against the wall, and plug into it directly.

She wasn't sure it would work without his invitation. He'd constructed this metaspace for them maybe a week ago using holographic and ontological tech “borrowed” from all their time with SSC. Much as he detested coding, he'd still done it purely of his own volition – carefully crafting it to bridge with her subjectivity suite and all her human senses. It wasn't lost on Emma how much research he had clearly put into this, and how it was for her as much as it was for him.

But the transition was as liquid as always. Today their virtual dimension took the form of the beachhead from where they'd launched toward the Velichye: neon blue sky, towering bergs of shock-white clouds, sands like sugar. There was a clock-like percussion to the waves. The breeze had that almost fishy tang that Emma was coming to learn was simply the scent of the ocean itself – perfectly, painstakingly recreated even though he himself could not smell it.

Sam sat on a rocky outcropping facing the sea with an old-fashioned paint set. The wind somehow did not reach him. His blue silk robes pooled around him in a placid mirror of the sea, and the nebula of his hair fell still along his back while his focus was elsewhere. That might have been the most curious detail of all – it meant that he, a Deimosian, was distracted by something. Emma paused a moment to send her consciousness back to her laptop, to check what programs were running. She'd pirated several digital art programs for him ages ago, but most of them had been made specifically for NHPs.

PixEL.exe was running. That one was made for humans. It meant that he was deliberately handicapping himself, painting strictly in linear time.

“Got tired of painting in MUSE, huh?” she asked as she approached.

He didn't immediately turn to look at her, but she caught the new split in his attention as he labored to maintain the illusion: paint suddenly manifested on his fingers and hands. Dream logic.

“It's more challenging this way,” he said. In here, his voice did not echo. In here, he pretended to breathe. “Creation is satisfying because it's difficult. It's an act of defiance.”

Emma grinned, taking a seat beside him. The rock was as uncomfortable as expected, but not overly so; Sam ran a considerate simulation. “And what exactly are you defying?”

“Serpent shit.” He smirked sidelong at her.

“God.” She laughed a little. “You know, I...I haven't really thought of RA, not since...everything.”

Sam gave an easy shrug, pausing to refill his brush with blue. “They're not going anywhere. Though I get the sense you haven't lost your faith.”

She hugged her knees to her chest. “Yeah, not really. It's not RA that was wrong, but how the Cousins were interpreting Them. I guess I'm just...making my own interpretations now?”

“What do you think I did?” Sam grinned, waving the brush around lazily. “ChakraChef kept coming to me, half the time with these kids not even as old as you were. And they'd kneel and make offerings, and – I won't lie, pretty nice on the ego.” The grin faded from his eyes. “And the stuff they asked me...I knew that if I slipped up, they'd run off and go kill themselves, or someone else, in my name. I couldn't explain to them that if I am some kind of angel, then RA made me just as clueless as the rest of you.”

“They liked you, though.”

“Everyone likes me. And I like to think that I kept them from being too stupid. But at the end of the day the Lessons are lost on me, too.”

“But you're still ruminating on Serpent shit?”

“Nah.” Sam turned back to his painting. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Baccara.”

“Yeah. And Radimir.”

The waves slowed, but maintained a rhythm. Somehow it sounded louder when they broke upon the shore now.

“...I think...I felt actual, physical pain back there,” came his quiet admission.

Emma stared. “But that's--”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Sam...” She reached for him without thinking about it, as she would for any human. Bless the simulation for being as thorough as it was, bless him for allowing her hand to actually connect with his arm, for finding warmth beneath the fabric as if he were...

“I'm fine. It's nothing permanent.” He smiled at her.

She watched him. “But you think it was targeted. That even though Baccara was attacking our enemies, they were also trying to hurt you, specifically.”

“Maybe.” Perhaps he saw the rage, the indignation igniting on her features, because he reached out to pull her into a hug. “Em. I'm alright. I promise.”

“You never hurt Baccara! It's bullshit!”

Bullshit, and...terrifying. The shock and confusion was the worst part about all of this. What in the galaxy could cause pain to an NHP? Even Legionspace slapfights didn't work that way.

The idea of anyone hurting Sam was...

He held her tighter, his hair falling around them both, his false heart ticking beneath her hands. He had a faint scent like a man. He was so warm. It was too perfect, too real. If only he'd been able to do this sooner. Emma balled her fists into his silken lapel and thunked her forehead against his chest.

“Would you like to see what I've been working on?” he asked. It was a deliberate change in subject, but a necessary one, perhaps; Emma knew that there wasn't really much anyone could do about Baccara, but maybe she could talk to Daughter later.

“You know I would,” she said with a half-smile, pulling away from him.

Sam chuckled and stood, sweeping his arm out such that all the canvases he'd been working on appeared around them in a semi-circle. He'd made dozens of works in the past few hours – almost all of them immersive depictions of the seascapes they'd encountered on the way to Radimir. Corals, fishes, leviathans, plants, the wrecked ship itself: once upon a time, thousands of years past, the rich detail in his work might have been described as 'Ghibli-esque' – but every subject had a sort of abstract realism to it as well, wreathed in what was best described as an aura and subtly textured with hundreds of tiny mandala fractals that could only be seen up close. It was a beautiful marriage of the real and the surreal, a hint at the way he naturally viewed the world, and that was the most valuable thing of all. Just as he worked in linear time to try and glimpse how she lived, his art allowed her to experience the same.

“Sam,” she breathed. “These are insane! You should show them to the others, I bet they'd really love them!”

“What, with the team?” He blinked. “Why?”

Emma laughed. “Because it's art, dummy. Art is supposed to be seen. Even I've put my terrible fanfics out there.”

“Hey, Solmates has done numbers,” he countered.

Her face grew hot. “I can't believe you've read that.”

“It was research.” He turned back to the canvases. “...You really think they'd enjoy it?”

“Why not? It's a beautiful reminder for those of us who went on the dive, and a lovely illustration for the folks who didn't. Besides, art is a really...humanizing thing. Maybe it'll make you seem a little less alien to our NHP holdouts.”

“Perhaps I will, then. But maybe only these. I think the ocean has become my new obsession.”

“Hyperfixating? It's almost like you're my twin.”

She grinned at him knowingly. His eyes flashed approval.

And then Sam did something he never, ever did.

He hesitated.

“...Are you busy, Emma?”

“No. Not until tomorrow, anyway. Baron Serious McFuckface wants...something from us. I'm sure he's keen to make use of all the Lancers that just miraculously fell into his lap.” She watched him. “Why?”

Sam smiled up at his paintings. The wind finally caught his hair. “I was just wondering if you'd stay here a while. I know I can't give you a real beach, but...”

Those words conjured an echo from what felt like a lifetime ago, when she was lost and terrified and he had first appeared to her, triggering in them both an uncanny feeling of familiarity. 'Stay with me...' she'd pleaded, as she felt Queen's eyes upon her back and resolved to spend the night inside what was apparently now her chassis.

Emma stepped forward, taking him by the hands and gently prying the paintbrush from his fingertips. “Always,” she said, echoing how he'd responded to her back then. “Will you show me how to paint?”

“You want to paint?”

“I mean obviously I'm not gonna be fuckin' Delgado.” She laughed, sweeping an arm out. “But we're right here! Surely even I can't fuck up the ocean. It's darker blue against lighter blue, right?”

He chuckled. There was such human warmth in his eyes as he looked at her then. “Yeah, alright. We can start with the basics and see how you feel.”

She was terrible at it.

But she painted with him for the rest of the night.

[taruchinator]

🌳 General Audiences

🌳 3k Words

🌳 Written for the @tohgrimoire

🌳 Spot Art by @/biankatdraws

Alador smiled at the display.

To think that in a matter of months his children would become so strong, not only using the magic tracks he and Odalia had assigned to them at birth, but also other types that he'd never even considered before.

He was proud of them. So very proud. He could only hope it wasn't too late for them to know that.

“Alador Blight basking in the sunlight? Never thought I'd see the day.”

This is a story I wrote for The Owl House Grimoire about a year ago, so forgive me if the writing is a bit rusty.

I wanted to focus on the relationship between Alador and his children—have him reflect on everything he did over the years because he followed Odalia's lead, and now he fears the ones he loves most won't accept his apologies. Thus enter Darius! With his own traumatized kinda-but-not-really adopted kid, Hunter!

Thank you to everyone for supporting this project!

“We leave at sunrise.”

Raine Whispers ended the briefing with that statement, removing their hands from the single wooden table in the room and encouraging everyone to disperse and prepare for the battle to come. And so, they did.

Everyone did, except for Alador Blight.

Alador wasn't really sure of where he should go, or what he should do, if he was being honest.

He'd already given all the information he thought would be useful regarding the Abomatons before the briefing—everything from their strengths to their weaknesses. He was also able to work alongside the Construction Coven Head a few days prior on their hideout's defense system, which was quite lacking at the time. He'd even helped in mundane tasks such as treating the injured and scouting for supplies.

The man had given everything he could for this cause. It was the least he could do after aiding the Emperor in his conquest to erase magic. Unknowingly, sure, but still assisted in some way.

Before he could think much of it, he let his feet guide him to wherever he should go next, as he left the safety of the hideout looking for some fresh air, and eventually found himself in a small field behind the abandoned building. Patches of grass that hadn't yet been affected by the Collector's magic surrounded him, and reminded the man of home.

Suddenly he heard voices which immediately put him on high alert, until he turned to see who they belonged to, and his heart couldn't help but squeeze somewhat painfully.

In the distance he could see his children, doing what could only be described as training, along with the human—Luz—and the Golden Guard—Hunter.

Edric and Emira were using their illusion magic to create multiple opponents for the others to fight, Hunter moving at high velocity as he evaded and went on the offensive when he saw an opening. Meanwhile, Luz was utilizing glyphs to amplify his daughter's attacks, which was a great strategy as multiple illusions were being erased in an instant thanks to the purple slime coming from Amity's pouch.

Alador smiled at the display.

To think that in a matter of months his children would become so strong, not only using the magic tracks he and Odalia had assigned to them at birth, but also other types that he'd never even considered before. Glyphs, Healing, Potions, Beast Keeping.

He was proud of them. So very proud. He wanted nothing more than to let them know that, and be sure that they knew it every day of their lives, and to apologize. Titan, he had so much apologizing to do.

He could only hope he wasn't too late for that.

“Alador Blight basking in the sunlight? Never thought I'd see the day.” A deep voice suddenly rang on his left side, which immediately sent the engineer into a fight or flight response as he summoned abomination slime from his pocket towards the stranger.

Before it could make contact however, another magical force interfered with a slime barrier of its own. The annoyed scowl behind the counterattack was one that Alador knew far too well. “Relax you buffoon, it's me.”

Alador must have been more tired than he initially thought. To not notice someone's presence so close to him would've been a mistake that could cost him his life, even if it was just an ally. That was probably the best word he could use to describe his and Darius' relationship: allies with a common goal. Still, that didn't mean he had to pretend to be friendly with him. “Leave me alone.”

Both men released their magic at the same time, with the brunet deciding to return to his previous task as if nothing had happened. He sat down on the patch of flora with his back turned away, yet he could already feel the indignant glare sent his way. “You know, most witches would at least have the decency to say hello. Although I suppose you've never been one for formalities.”

“I'm not in the mood, Deamonne. If something went haywire in the control room, I'll fix it once I'm back.” Alador let out a sigh as he combed a hand through his hair in annoyance. What other reason would Darius have to come and bother looking for him anyway? A moment of silence went by, and for a second he thought the other man might've actually left.

However, that option was quickly shot off the table as Alador dared to look to his side once more.

The Abomination Coven Head was still standing there, although if Alador didn't know any better, he seemed rather fidgety. His expression kept shifting from the ground the engineer was sitting on, to the view on the horizon. Seemingly making up his mind, Darius inserted a hand into his pocket and retrieved a lavender colored piece of cloth. He couldn't be serious.

“Really? A handkerchief?” Alador quipped with a hint of amusement in his voice as the other man placed the piece of fabric on the floor, and hesitantly, sat next to him.

Darius was not making eye contact, but the brunet could still see the blush tainting his cheeks. “I thought you weren't in the mood to talk. Make up your mind, hack.”

Taking that response as a small victory, Alador couldn't help but roll his eyes with a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Just like that, silence overtook the air once more as the sun began to set, leaving a beautiful glow in its wake for the duo to see.

Despite how much he hated to admit it, Darius was right. It had been far too long since Alador had taken the time to admire nature at its finest. The intricate designs in a flower's petals, the strength of a carnivorous plant while capturing its prey, the resistance of hard oak wood to the elements. It was all incredibly inspiring for an inventor such as himself.

It wasn't until Odalia convinced him to use his talents for machines instead, that he forgot how much he enjoyed experimenting with all kinds of materials in his youth.

There were plenty of things Odalia convinced him to do.

“So this is why you were so distracted during the meeting.” Darius broke the silence with a statement rather than a question, staring straight ahead and causing Alador to turn to where the other was looking.

His eyes landed once more on the young teens, who'd apparently decided to change their roleplay this time by having Luz, Amity and Hunter as the offenders, while Edric and Emira deflected. The twins were holding on surprisingly well considering they were outnumbered.

The engineer would have admired it more comfortably if he was alone. Yet alas.

“I wasn't distracted. I guess that nasty habit of sticking your nose into people's business is still going, then?” Alador replied with an unwavering gaze towards the training session.

Something similar to a snort escaped the other man's lips. “Please, an infant could tell that your mind was wandering. It also becomes my business when someone could potentially jeopardize the mission. We've spent too many resources on this for it to fail.”

“I am aware. I'm the one who was able to find the location of those resources.” Alador spared a side glance towards his companion just in time to see him roll his eyes. He carried on as if the engineer hadn't said anything at all.

“In any case, I should be grateful that my inkling was wrong. To think I thought the cause of your brain fart was something important, not your little ‘family drama.’” Darius vaguely gestured in the teen's direction with a dismissive hand.

The words he'd said, however, were anything but dismissive to Alador. A strange and impulsive feeling overtook him for a moment, causing him to turn around and face the other man with a scowl that could have terrified Emperor Belos himself. Anger caused his face to flare and his tone to rise. “My family is far more important to me than anything this rebellion stands for!”

Darius stared back at him with mouth agape, and it was only then that the brunet realized what he'd said. His own eyes widened as he turned to look at the ground beneath him instead, refusing to look anywhere else.

He shouldn't be dumping his problems on others. Especially on Darius of all people.

As for the Coven Head, he seemed to be fidgeting in that awkward way from earlier, playing with the hem of his gloves and tapping one foot quietly. His voice wavered for a moment. “I… I didn't mean to imply-”

“Don't. Just forget it. I don't need your pity.” Alador's voice mumbled firmly. If there was still any dignity left for him to defend, he didn't know. But he definitely wouldn't give the other man the satisfaction to see him like this.

Like the failure that he was.

“I… I know it's not exactly the same. But I can somewhat understand what you're feeling, Blight.” Darius didn't back off, because of course he wouldn't, and instead replied with that statement while trying to meet the engineer's gaze.

However, the words that were spoken served as more fuel to his rage, in which Alador scoffed and lifted his head to look at his old friend with furrowed eyebrows. He reached forward and took hold of Darius' collar with all the strength he had left. It wasn't much. “Understand? You're the last person who could understand what I'm feeling right now! I know I wasn't a good husband— Titan knows I wasn't a good father, either! But for you to be rubbing it in my face like that-!”

“Oh shut up and listen for once, you idiot!” Darius raised his voice in return and went to try and remove Alador's grip from his neck, eyes filled with anger of his own. “You really think I couldn't possibly understand?! The constant feeling of regret because you could've done more and yet you didn't?! Always wanting what's best for them, only to realize too late that what you thought was best wasn't enough!”

Alador's eyes widened at the sudden lashing of rage, but even more so at the words coming from Darius' lips. “How do you know that?”

Seeming to have realized what he'd said as well, the man pulled away from the brunet's grasp and turned elsewhere with an unreadable expression. Following his line of sight, Alador found himself even more confused.

They were staring at the kids in the distance once more, this time seemingly taking a break as they remained sitting down and exchanging drinks. Light banter and laughter could be heard, and the brunet had to admit that it was a lovely sight. But following Darius' gaze more closely, it almost seemed like he was looking at…

“The Golden Guard?” The question left his lips before he could stop it, but the way the other man's shoulders seemed to tense up in response was enough of an answer. It was perhaps against his better judgment, but he was intrigued. “Did you talk to him much when you were in the Emperor's Coven?”

Taking a deep breath, Darius proceeded to pinch the bridge of his nose as he let out a shaky sigh. “Only for official business. It wasn't just me— everyone just talked to him when needed or if they wanted to relay something to Belos. Completely unfazed by the fact that they were talking to a literal child.”

With a quick clench of his fists, Darius turned his attention to the sky above. The red and orange hues signaling the arrival of nightfall were breathtaking, but Alador could tell that the other man wasn't looking at that. His stare was long and far beyond anything the engineer could imagine, and if he was being honest, it almost looked as if there were tears in his eyes.

“After the previous Golden Guard disappeared, I grew curious.” Darius continued his tale, this time with a hint of what could only be described as melancholy in his voice. “By the time I found out the truth, Hunter had already been chosen as the next. I knew what that man was doing to him. I saw it every day, and I did nothing to stop it.”

A choked laugh went past the Coven Head's lips as he shook his head in disbelief. “I thought… as long as I was there, I could protect him if things got out of hand. And look how that turned out…”

Silence fell between them, and for the first time in his life, Alador didn't know how to fix it. The way the other man expressed himself and spoke about the blond boy was something the inventor never thought he'd see, and yet here he was, looking at a man who didn't seem like a Coven Head and instead resembled his old friend from many years ago.

A man who found something much more valuable than his pride.

A man very much like himself.

Before he could stop himself, the brunet reached into his left pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper, which he wordlessly handed over to Darius sitting next to him.

He merely blinked as he stared at Alador's hand. “What is that?”

“Just take it.” He encouraged once more with his arm, and finally felt the other grab it after a few more moments of hesitation. After hearing the rustling from the paper being unfolded, Alador closed his eyes with a sigh.

Once he'd reunited with his children and learned of Amity's travels in the Human Realm, he was surprised with a gift from his youngest daughter in the form of that same piece of paper that Darius was holding.

It was a family portrait.

His dear Mittens wasn't the most artistically inclined, but he could tell that she'd done her best with what she had. Smiling versions of himself and the twins were staring back at him from the crinkly paper, and the way Amity excitedly talked about where she'd been and everything she'd seen just melted his heart on the spot.

Even now, thinking back on the purpose of the drawing was enough to get him choked up. “When the children were trapped in the Human Realm, they drew pictures of their families to give them the strength needed to not give up hope. Amity gave it to me once we found each other.”

Turning his attention to the sky, he carried on, finally allowing himself to let it all out. “My daughter spent months trying to find a way home to us. To me. Her poor excuse of a father who didn't dare stand up for her because he was too afraid of her mother, and left her to fend for herself. I could've stopped it— I could've stood up to Odalia sooner, but I didn't! And yet,” he raised his head to look at the smiling girl on the horizon, “she's still willing to forgive me. Titan knows why…”

These thoughts had plagued his mind for a while now, but he'd been dismissive of them and focused on his inventions instead, trying to avoid confrontation while convincing himself that it was all for a better cause. In reality, he was running away.

But he didn't want to run anymore. Not ever again.

“For what it's worth… they seem much happier. It doesn't make up for what you did, but I think it's a start.” Darius handed the family portrait back to its owner with the ghost of a smile. “All we can do is try harder.”

“And hope we get it right this time.” Alador found himself concurring with the statement, returning the friendly gesture as he held the poor picture of the people he loved the most in his hands. He couldn't help but chuckle. “Never in a million years did I think you'd be giving me parental advice.”

As quickly as it came, any hint of sympathy for the engineer was wiped off Darius' face as he turned to look ahead once more. “Well, don't get used to it. I just need you in top form if we're gonna pull this whole stunt off.”

“Oh of course, whatever you say…”

“Dad?”

Amity's voice resonated in Alador's ears, bringing an instant smile to his face as he turned to face the teens walking towards them. He quickly stood from the ground to receive them. “Kids! Nice training session! You're getting better every day!”

Emira sheepishly cocked her head to the side, the others only falling behind her by a few steps. “Wait, you saw all of that? Sheesh dad, how long have you been spying on us?”

“It's not like that, I-”

“We noticed you were missing from the rest of the group and came looking for you. It's getting late, so you shouldn't be wandering around by yourselves.” Darius quickly made himself known as he injected into the conversation, sparing Alador of any embarrassment. He'd have to thank him for that later.

“Please, we can handle ourselves just fine! We've been to the Human Realm, which for your information, is in fact very dangerous.” Hunter joined in as he glanced at Darius with skepticism.

“Oh I'm sure that you can, Little Prince! It was actually so nice of you to let the Blight kids overpower you like that! Give them the confidence they need by taking down an elite~” Ruffling the boy's hair affectionately, Hunter began squirming and swatting away with a blush decorating his features, complaining for the older man to cut it out.

As he looked around the laughing group, Alador couldn't help but sigh in content.

There was no telling what the battle to come would bring. But if there was one thing for certain, it was that no matter what, he wouldn't be going at it alone.

[missmichellets]

Please share your secret to being so fucking confident! Like, I’m being criticized on MY blog for the shit I not make or post, just what I reblog- slurs hurt-

Things are gonna get real deep now my love. I could say: haters are losers - and as a winner, I'm busy in a capacity they couldn't even fathom. So I simply do not have enough time in a day to give losers a thought. I could also say: haters are unhappy people with a tragic lives. It sounds like a cliché. But think about it, if you are a well-balanced individual, happy, safe, calm, collected, with a decently put together life and a clearly constructed short-term and long-term purpose/meaning... you won't be going around doing any hating. You simply won't. It's not even in the frame of your consciousness; you won't even be able to access the mere idea of hating on others as a possible task/behaviour to engage yourself with. Which means that a hater must live at the very opposite realm of that. And that must be awful. I genuinly feel sorry for people in this amount of distress - but simultaneously, I have zero empathy for their destructive ways of coping with it. I could also say: diet discipline. The same way your body will evolve and take shape based on what you feed it and what activities you choose to engage it in - your mind will do the same. Feed it with mush and you're gonna turn your mind into mush. I could also say: priorities. 1 minute spent on a hater is 1 less minute spent on a lover. Time is finite. It's your most valuable asset and you get to spend it however you want! With 2 big caveats; you can't take it back and you can't make more of it. With that knowledge at the immediate forefront of your mind, it becomes very obvious why you shouldn't engage with hate. Also, if you'd actually make a list of things that are more important to deal with than your haters, you'd end up with an infinitely long list. Really, clearing the filter of your washing machine is probably 80.000x more important than replying to a mean comment. The few times I actively do choose to engage with a hateful comment, it is to educate people in the "surroundings" by pointing out why this is either; a problematic way to conduct yourself, a failure in logics/reasoning or a generally poor behaviour you should strive to avoid for yourself. Bc I feel it is of value and importance to do our best to mitigate "up and coming" abusers and help steer potential trainwrecks back on track. I could say all of these things. Or I could simply just say idgaf. And all of them would be true.