#im nervous about this lol

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*

[nanistar]

new year, new commission post and prices.

i'm willing to discuss most off-menu things as well as discounts for bulk orders of things like little guys, so don't hesitate to ask! message me here @nanistar if you are interested!

[lostiel]

davrin | get to know your companions

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[ganondoodle]

(totk rewritten)

finally, all the arm and spirit abilities- for the first half of the game (rauru) and for the second half with the shiekah arm replacing links arms instead and the spirit abilities gained through ganondorf

(please excuse my handwriting and sometimes repeated info on the first two, i lost motivation/patience at the end and couldnt get myself to basically redo it all from scratch just to make it a bit more cleaner)

note, the camera rune is unconnected to the arm, its the shiekah stone copy link has (zelda carries the one from botw, a copy was attempted to be made for link but it lacks all runes except the camera, the map and its teleportation, and journal/archive)

note for the heal effects of some spirit abilities- im also reworking the healing system, making it more like the older games, so healing isnt as easy and much more restricted, thus making those effects of spirit abilities more valuable ( lil potion icon on the d pad will act a little bit like in skyward sword, opens your limited selection of healing items and if chosen link switches to holding it and letting you consume it with -a- while walking around in real time- to avoid more pausing and mass healing on regular items while in menu)

additional note, the automatic recharging of the magic meter depending on the environment gives you a reliable but less abusable way of using abilities and allows for even more creative dungeon/challenge design by using it effectively- it works by absorbing magic from its surroundings, so if its an area with little magic it recharges slower, if its a very spiritual or healthy place it will recharge faster, it can be used to make things more challenging and also as subtle storytelling (example, theres a graveyard with the magic energy around being off the charts, even if there are no spirits to see, it could hint at the people buried not having died peacefully, no matter what their gravestone says...)

the usage of magic and how much the different abilities cost also allows for a much more dynamic fighting style for players to choose and try out, balancing them all out with their cost instead of a fixed timer, and the recharging beign affected by the environment perhaps forcing players that favor high cost magic abilities to use the lower cost ones for example, or not being able to charge one up bc the enemy is too fast and doesnt give you enough time to charge it

about half of the small overworld dungeons (not shrines) are also locked/inaccessible for the first half and new quests appear as the second half commences- together with the additional changes raurus return brings with it (sonau buildings, enemies being mostly cosntructs that he summoned etc) and whole set of new abilities giving you a fresh new way to play while (hopefully) not making you feel too restricted for the first half

... making these detailed concepts took me longer than id like to admit q-q

[limesquares]

the boy(?)s are fighting 😳

[amourninghost]

This is Spaceghost! So-called because he needed to be quickly and easily addressed as an emergent issue for those with the displeasure of meeting him. The device he created appears to anchor his consciousness (and part of his physical body) to an extradimensional superposition.

(Lore on the scene ripper under the cut)

The scene-ripper (a play on seam ripper, since the blade seems to be fashioned after one) can tear a hole in reality. It can alter the structure of a reality, or simply traverse through it to a more desirable universal position depending on the dexterity and control of the operator (so pilot dib).

He made the device while trapped in a nightmare dimension, as no one was there to help him escape it. It was more out of desperation. The scope was useless on its own; he needed to find a way to control the jumps... so he had to work with what he had at his disposal. Which was, luckily or unluckily, a world full of fucked up impossible technology.

He was trapped there for a long time, being hunted down and tortured intermittently while trying to engineer the scene ripper. His work was made easier by the fact he wasn't the only one wanting to leave. Most of the work was done for him, he just needed to understand it and apply it. And scavenge all the parts... and eventually use untested technology on himself.

Point of no return shit was easier to fall into than to step into. It was a lot like putting his arm in a nuclear generator surrounded by a bear trap. When he was able to check on the status of his arm, he found the matter of his hand to be inscrutable. There was a void where his wrist should have been visible on the underside of the gauntlet and a sharp blade manifesting from the darkness. He could no longer remove it... but it did work.

The scope itself also received upgrades more closely tying its functionality to the ripper and operator, but none so costly as that of the gauntlet.

[diyasgarden]

betting on losing dogs cats

a story of a stray (patrick zweig) and a stray (kitten)

When Patrick finds it, he thinks the cat is dead. 

It takes him a moment to even recognize what it is, first assuming the little dark speck under the streetlight is just some unfortunate roadkill. A racoon or skunk. Maybe even an overgrown rat. The patch of grass it lays on is close enough to the narrow parking lot that all it would take is one hasty driver to swerve onto the curb and leave it for dead. It’s only when he pushes himself off the wall of the roadside shop and towards the light can he make out its little paws and upturned ears. 

It’s a bit odd for a cat to be out here in the first place. Far out on the interstate and away from any city. A place between places, but not a destination itself. He himself only stopped here for the pack of Marlboro Reds now in his back pocket. If he believed in a higher power, he’d take the dead cat as a sign to quit smoking. He opts for another drag instead. 

It’s on its side with its paws outstretched and eyes closed, the street light forming a warm halo around its body. Its fur is simultaneously scruffy and groomed in a way that makes it unclear if the cat is a stray or not. Although Patrick has a hard time imagining anything laying on the ground like this is loved in any capacity. Maybe it had owners it slipped away from. Or owners who let it go. There isn’t any blood either, so he can’t even tell if it’s roadkill. From its position to its stillness, it all feels peaceful. A hazy scene which looks less like a dead cat and more of an artist's rendition of one. 

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and languidly exhales. Without his permission, his legs bend down to stroke the cat’s sable fur. His hand tepidly extends and just as he is about to indulge his impulse, the creak of the store door’s hinge snaps him out of the trance.

His eyes flicker to the couple stepping out. While they look his age they sport smiles that give them a sprightly joy he now lacks. His expression turns sheepish as he remains squatted, arm out. They’re too engrossed in their own conversation to even notice Patrick. Their voices blend with the noises on the road and his gaze trails them back to their car, before he pushes himself up. Eyes drifting back down to the cat. 

He lifts the cigarette to his lips and looks to the side, away from the Carvaggio of a corpse. His eyes settle on the interstate and the cars who zoom by. His next challenger is two states over. If he is lucky, it will be another five hours on the road (it’ll take him seven). Yeah, you should get back to your car.

He drops the cigarette to the ground, allowing himself one last look at the cat as he grinds the cigarette butt into the pavement. This time he sees its paw twitch.

The cat’s nose sluggishly presses against his thumb and its whiskers brush against a callus on his hand. A soft, ticklish sensation Patrick would enjoy more if it wasn’t for the dull drone of the fan above him. His head tilts up to watch its jagged movement, expecting it to fall down on him any second. 

The low walls have a grimy yellow hue and if he squints he can make out the faint outline of cracks. His nose wrinkles at the stale wet-dog smell — which really should be reported on Google reviews. He takes it all in and is hit with a sense of deranged nostalgia for the crappy motel rooms he’s stayed in. The type of place you could fleetingly carve a home in, if you blurred around the edges. There is a somber appreciation at the fact that this shelter is the only one open at this hour. That even now, this is the sort of place to find him. 

He looks at the elderly woman behind the front desk, the only other person here. Her eyebrows droop to her eyes, which flick every few seconds to the clock overhead, but never to him. Her nose is buried into one of those cheap novels sold in the check-out aisles of grocery stores. A book not nearly compelling enough for the comical way she clings to it, but admittedly an astute way to ignore his presence. 

He lets out a sharp exhale and parts his lips to speak, but is cut short by the feeling of velvety fur shifting in his hands. His eyes dip down once more to the little thing, tracing its frail and dainty shape. It's too small to be anymore than a few weeks old. A kitten.

It sticks out its tongue and his finger instinctively moves to feel its sandpaper-like texture. Has he ever held a kitten before? He doubts he has ever been trusted to hold anything this young in his life. Does he even know anyone who had a kitten? 

No.

He knew someone with cats though. 

The corners of his lip involuntarily twitch upwards as he remembers a tabby who would crawl up onto his lap whenever he was around. 

“I don’t get why he likes you so much,” Art told him once, as if Patrick knew why Grandma Donaldson’s cat preferred him. The blonde ran a finger over the red scratch to the left against his pale skin, the little orange beast’s favorite scratching post. 

“Well he has good taste,” Patrick quipped back in response with a lopsided smirk, earning a laugh from the blonde. Or was it a scoff? The corners of his lip dip down once more, eyebrows knotting as he tries to recall.

It had to be one of the two. 

Could it have been both? 

What was even the name of the cat? Something with an S. Sebastian? 

Fuck this.

Not like any of it matters anyway. 

Art’s grandmother is dead. 

The cat probably is too. 

None of this matters. 

He feels the kitten’s tongue scratch his thumb once more, and his attention is brought back to the creature in his hands. Its amber eyes flutter open for a second before shutting again. It faithfully repeats this motion and Patrick is overwhelmed with the sense it is stuck between life and death. Purgatory? Not quite. More like it hasn’t decided if it wants to remain in this life or move on to the next. To live or to die.

He wants to hit himself for his next thought. 

You’d be better off dead. 

“Well, definitely a stray,” are the first things the woman says when she finally acknowledges his presence. His frown deepens into a grimace, but is quickly washed away with a more neutral expression. If she notices, she says nothing. The woman’s finger runs back and forth over the kitten’s delicate spine, as Patrick tentatively places it on the treen desk in front of her. . 

“So you’ll take it?”

The woman’s finger abruptly stops the moment the words leave his lips, just watching the little creature roll around. The ragged hum of the fan turns oppressive as he waits for her to speak, but she only turns her head up to him instead. She sports a frown which is equal parts pitiful and honest, her eyes piercing into his with little wrinkles that imitate her lips.  

“Well in cases like this…” she starts in a tentative voice usually reserved for children, but her voice fades into the background. He doesn’t catch anything after that, his focus shifting to the bile forming in his throat. 

An acutely sadistic part of him wants to laugh at himself. Mock the asinine belief that he could save this kitten. What did he expect? That this shit show of a shelter would magically nurse this dying creature to life? It’s hilarious to him now. Another joke with him at the punchline. 

The woman continues on about sedation and tranquilizers, but it remains a distant murmur, eyes drifting down to the kitten. He watches it open its mouth and lets out a noise so soft, he may as well have imagined it. 

Maybe he did. 

He probably did. 

Not that it matters. 

For Patrick, it’s the only sound in the room. 

You did the right thing.

You did the right thing. 

You did the right thing. 

You did the right thing.

You did the right thing. 

This is what he tells himself as he hits 80 on the interstate. He holds his foot steady on the accelerator, eyes glued to the endless highway in front of him. After the day he’s had, what’s a bit of speeding? The whole kitten debacle was an hour long detour, and now he doubts he’ll even make it to the tournament in time. Not that it would stop him from trying. Why else would he be speeding? It’s all justified. 

There's a slight disapproving trill, and from the corner of his eye he shoots a look at the kitten now in his passenger seat. It sleepily raises its head to meet his gaze, the only part of its body peeking out from the worn, gray shirt he’s wrapped it in.

It purrs once more. 

“Okay sure, I’ll slow down” 

(He doesn’t)

author’s note: finally explored a concept that has been lingering in my head since i wrote these cat headcanons. this fic is different than anything else i’ve shared, so please share your thoughts! shout out to @pparacxosm for pulling me out of fanfic writer retirement !! and also shoutout to sebastian. realest cat out there!! i love you and your owner @apatheticrater !!

art credit: i’m not sure who drew the smoking cat itself, but i made the yellow background-double cat graphic. if you know who the artist, let me know so I can credit them :)

[alpacacare-archive]

good lord

[slightlyunconventional]

hi! i received an ask about making a snz prompts list, and it seemed like a cool idea so im gonna do it !!

slightlyunconventional’s prompt list debut 🪻

(these won’t have any particular theme or anything, just some nice prompts/scenarios that i myself enjoy writing so you might too :3 feel free to use these and i would love to see if anyone writes anything)

☀️ a character waking up to the sun streaming in through their window and having a photic reaction

❓ a character finding out for the first time that they’re allergic to something (their first time encountering a certain animal/flower etc)

🥂 character(s) going to a formal event and everywhere they turn there are people with expensive and strong perfumes on - one or both of the characters being sensitive to it

🔊 a character with typically soft/subdued sneezes catching a cold that turns their sneezes massively more harsh and uncontrollable

🧴 strongly scented beauty/bath products causing a character to sneeze - do they realise right away what’s triggering it, or does it take a while (or perhaps a tip from someone else)?

🫧 a character running a bath for their sick partner, then sitting beside the tub keeping them company whilst they soak - a cold bath for a high fever, or a hot bath for the chills

🌙 a character waking in the middle of the night to find the other side of the bed empty, then finding their partner having a sneezing fit in a different room having left to avoid waking the other one up

❤️‍🩹 a character encouraging their sick partner to stop stifling all their sneezes (maybe it makes them sneeze even more, maybe it worsens the pressure in their sinuses, maybe it amplifies the headache they already have)

☕️ the steam from a mug of hot tea teasing sneezes from a sick character

🔥 a character realising their partner has a fever by feeling the heat of their skin by accident - holding their face to kiss them, feeling their skin when they cuddle in bed, etc

🕰️ a character having to hold back/stifle all day (their job? anxiety/insecurity of sneezing around people? not wanting to spread their cold if they have one? your choice!) and finally getting to let loose once they’re home, sneezes tearing through them unrestrained

💫 a character with the kink inducing their partner, instructing them to hold back for as long as possible (my favourite scenario to read/write. can you tell)

💐 a character with awful hayfever going to a florist’s shop to buy flowers for their partner

🏖️ a character coming down with a cold in the middle of summer - they can’t appreciate the warm weather because they’re wracked with chills

⛓️‍💥 a character with a cold turning down all help/care they are offered, under the pretence that they’re fine on their own, until the end of the day when they end up collapsing (metaphorically or physically)

🩹 a character sneezing for whatever reason whilst they are injured (so much potential here - a broken/bloody nose that they can’t even touch to quell the itch, broken ribs that clench with a spike of pain at each outburst, an injured arm that hurts to cover or stifle with… endless possibilities)

🦋 a nonhuman/semi-human character not being used to sneezing finds they’ve come down with a cold, or developed an allergy

🍷 alcohol making a character sneeze, but they keep drinking, and as they get tipsier, their sneezes become more indulgent and unrestrained

💤 a character about to fall asleep, or who had just woken up, and their drowsiness finds its way into their sneezes

🕯️a character in the candle/perfume/etc section of a store, sniffing each one whilst their partner (who insisted on coming along) sneezes helplessly beside them, assuring them it isn’t the candles/perfume/etc when it most certainly is

i’ve never done a post like this before, so i hope these were okay! if anyone uses any of these i would love to read what you write, too! i also added a different emoji for each one incase anyone wanted to use it as an ask game

[gold0kapi]

“Welcome back, LT”

Just a guy helping his buddy onto a ledge, that’s all your honour >_>

[tomasobbin]

I would like to contribute to the punkflower tag considering i have been lurking for quite a bit !!

So enjoy friends

[goldencuffs]

fake dating au chapter twenty-one

after all this time, here it is: chapter twenty-one of in the absence of a king

part one and part two because it was too long to post in one go

thank you so much to everyone who continued to care about this fic. your support means everything 💖

[deliasmilkshake]

Underneath the Stardust

Samebody!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Waiter/tress!Reader

Basically you work as a server/waiter/waitress at this cheap 'Stardust Motel' (Totally inspired by this post) which is located in a small town where more people have been going missing as of late and how you slowly discover the truth behind it while a certain animatronic toys around with you.

I personally don't think any content warning is needed for this chapter, unless anyone notices one?

I guess just take into account that Sun & Moon are a bit.. sassy? rough? (a tiny bit inspired by the HW2 DCA) but I hope you guys do realize the small actions they do which shows that they do care for the reader! They're just a bit... funny about it ibasbakisubhiusabg

| Words: 2,246 | Chapters: 1/?

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Another day to go to work at your horrendous job. You really had no choice. You were kicked out of your last job and evicted from your cheap apartment. This was the only place in this godforsaken town that had a job opening that accepted you.

As for your new home, your friend Michael was kind enough to let you move in with him. You appreciate that a lot from him, and to be honest… you might like him just a teensy bit? But even you're not so sure if you have a crush on him or if you just like how kind he's been to you during this whole mess. It's not a feeling you've been able to process or have been wanting to, actually.

You're busier trying to relieve the debts you have and making your life stable.

With that thought, you sigh as you finally reach your job at the oh-so-marvelous 'Stardust Motel'. Good thing the work is within walking distance from Michael's house because you do NOT have the money to afford gas, much less a car.

Michael always suggests accompanying you ever since the cases of missing people have increased around town lately, but you insist that you can take care of yourself. Deep down, you just don't want to be more of a burden to him than you already feel you are.

Here you work a double shift. One from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. and the next starting from 5 p.m. and ending at 1 a.m. At this point, the motel feels like your second home. You do have breaks, and luckily, there isn't much going on around in this small town. but it's still exhausting nonetheless.

Your job is being a server for the small restaurant right next to but connected with the motel. However, since there isn't much activity, they also have you work as a housekeeper and do some small maintenance here and there. This place sucks, but alas, it's the only one that would accept someone as lowly as you.

"You're late." Bob begrudgingly tells you. He's the only chef of the restaurant and the second boss.

You look down at your phone and see that it is 5:05 p.m. You slump down and put your phone away in your pocket as you approach the kitchen.

"Sorry, Bob, I'll make sure to arrive at exactly 5:00 p.m. next time."

"It'd be better if you arrived 15 minutes earlier than that."

Another deep breath in and out. "Yes, Bob." As if they don't push you enough already. And as you're about to put on your apron, Bob interrupts you,

"Say, a light bulb burned out; go fix it. Second floor, at the very end."

Geez, not even a please? "I'll go fix it."

And so you walk out through the door on the side that leads to the motel. There, you are greeted by the receptionist.

"Bad day, huh?" Vanessa asks while typing something on her computer. "When isn't it a bad day for you~?" she teases but you're not really in the mood for any of this.

You bury your hands in your face with a groan. "Bob told me to go fix the light bulb." Your voice sounds muffled as your face is still hidden by your palms.

"Well you better hurry. The sun is about to go down." She points at the light bulb on top of the desk and continues working.

Your hands twitch slightly from her last sentence.

"Sun…"

Oh yeah, the housekeeper and guard of the motel. He's an animatronic who can be… How should you describe him? At times he's nice, and at others he can be a bit of a condescending jerk.

You shake your head. You take the light bulb from the desk and redirect yourself towards the stairs, walking towards the second floor where you head towards the very end, spotting the last light bulb hanging lifelessly.

As you approach, you look up and realize,

"Shoot… I forgot the ladder … AUGH!!" You groan loudly as you turn around to retrieve the goddamn ladder. When suddenly-

"BOO!"

"AH!"

"HAHAHA!" You hear that familiar laugh as you fall onto the ground, landing on your butt.

"SUN!" You yell out furiously. "Don't scare me like that! Do you want to give me a heart attack!?"

Sun's laugher slowly dies down to a mischievous smile and tilts his head. "Hmmm…" He hums in thought as he looks to the side.

"Don't think about it!" With that, you get up and shake off your pants from any dirt on the floor.

Once you're standing, you feel a hand lay on your head and pat you. "How has your evening been, friend?"

"Bad!" You cross your arms and pout as you look up at him.

"I didn't mean to scare you so badly!" He chuckles as he leans down to meet you face to face- maybe even just a bit too close. You plant a hand on his faceplate and push him back gently. "Too close, buddy."

He raises his hands and then looks behind you towards the light bulb. He points at it as you slightly turn your head to where he's pointing. "Did you really think you could reach that without a ladder?"

Your eye twitches; he just called you a shorty. It's not your fault he's insanely tall. "For your information! I simply forgot the ladder!"

"Surprise, surprise," he says with a taunting grin.

"How about you step aside and let me get the ladder?"

"No~" He replies, still holding his cheeky grin.

"Well then! I'll just go- aaAAAH!" As you were about to walk past him, he grabs you by the waist and starts to walk back towards the end of the hall, where the light bulb hangs.

"Sun! Let go!" you shout, and he does! He lets go right there and then, causing you to fall to your butt… Again!

"OW! BUT NOT LIKE THAT!" You rub your bum gently from the pain and get back up. Once you do, Sun puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around, and before you can process it, he's picking you up once more. But this time, you get it.

"Oh- you were going to be my ladder…" He rolls his eyes seemingly unimpressed that you only just now understood his intentions.

"Chop chop, friend~!" He exclaims behind you. You huff at him before you quickly replace the lightbulb.

"Done!"

Sun places you down and claps his hands. "Good job, friend, for doing allll the hard work around here~!" It seems like Sun isn't in a great mood today either because he's being bitchier than usual.

"What's got you in a bad mood today?" You place your hand on your hip as you question him.

"You see-" but before Sun can answer, you hear Vanessa shout your name from the first floor.

"Your friend is here!" she yells. "Michael!" you say enthusiastically as you rush downstairs. "Michael…" Sun says unenthusiastically as he rolls his eyes and sluggishly goes down the stairs.

You rush toward the front desk where you see your friend holding what appears to be… your lunchbox! "Did I forget it at home?!"

Michael chuckles at that and nods. "You did. But thankfully our home is near, so I brought it over for you."

"Surprise, surprise," Sun interrupts as he walks over to where you all are. "Our sunshine's forgetful like that, aren't they?" He crosses his arms and leans on the desk.

"You're lucky to have someone bring you lunch; I wish someone brought me lunch." Vanessa says as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Michael scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "It's just what… good friends do, no?" Aww, what a dear.

You take your lunchbox from his hands and give him a gentle smile as you whisper, "Thank you, Michael." You hear a slight scratch on the desk behind you screech.

"HEY! You jerk! Don't ruin my desk like that!" Vanessa shouts at Sun and slaps his hand away as he straightens up quickly.

"Sorry, Vanessa!" He pretends to let out a long yawn. "I was just getting bored out of my mechanical mind watching this poor scene play out!" He grips his hands together.

"Not my fault you're jealous that no one brings you lunch!" Sun's eye twitches at your remark, and with that, he leans toward you and gives you a death glare for a moment before snatching your lunchbox.

"My lunchbox! SUN! Give it back!" Sun ignores you with a laugh as he runs away. You run but stop to turn around and face Michael.

"Thank you for bringing it to me!" You give him a wave of your hand "I'll catch you later tonight!" Michael nods with a smile and gently waves back at you, and with that, you continue running forward.

"They're so oblivious" He whispers softly. "That goddamn bot scratched my desk-" Vanessa rambles as she checks the scratch marks Sun made and Michael simply lets out a nervous chuckle at Vanessa's remarks.

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You finally reach the basement where Sun ran into. You try switching the lights on, but no matter how many times you try, the basement stays dark.

You sigh as you reach into your pockets and take out your phone to use its flashlight.

"…Give me my lunchbox back, you menaces!" No reply, and after a few seconds, you feel a strand of your hair being slightly pulled.

You look up at the top of the shelf behind you and point your phone toward the one who did it. The one who stole your food.

"Moon." You huff at him "Get back down." You threaten.

He grins and slightly chuckles as he holds your lunchbox up with one hand and rests his face on the other.

"Magic word~?" he asks. "Now!" "Wrong answer." he replies menancingly.

Augh- He's really making you say it, isn't he? "…… Please?" you finally give in.

"I couldn't hear~ Louder." Goddammit.

"P-Please! Pretty please!" Sometimes you feel as if you're just a toy that they enjoy teasing and playing with. Much to your relief, Moon hops down onto the floor with a satisfied laugh.

He straightens up, but as he does, he picks you up with one arm.

"Let us feed you~" Pardon? "What? NO! No! Why?!" you struggle in his arm as you try to reach for his other hand, where he still holds your lunchbox. Curse his arms for being so long.

"Funny, funny~" he chuckles as he wiggles the lunchbox you're trying so hard to reach.

…. He finds this funny, huh? Will he find this amusing then?

You reach toward the back of his head, grab his nightcap, and pull it back as hard as you can. "!!!" His eyes open wide, he stumbles back from the harsh tug while you grin.

"Hahaha! Funny, funny~" you mock him, using his own words against him. He stabilizes himself and his smile only widens with ill intent.

He places your lunchbox on the shelf and inmediately tugs on your hair harshly, causing your head to lean back in his arms. "OW!"

So this is how he wants to play? You tug on his nightcap again. "HA!"

He responds by tugging your hair in return. "Naughty!" He growls but you retort by tugging on his lips. "You're naughtier!" He tugs on your lips back, "Is that so~?" He leans his face closer to yours-

"Get a room, you two." Vanessa interrupts as she manages to turn the lights on.

You feel Moon lower his hand, and his other arm tightens around you as he transforms back into Sun, a process that always appeared painful. But once it's done, Sun gently places you on the ground as he holds his head with one hand, seemingly in post-transformation pain.

"Vanessa , you could have warned us," Sun tells her begrudgingly.

"Next time, go to some other motel." She glances in your direction. "And you." You tilt your head. "Bob wants to know why you're taking so damn long. His words, not mine."

Shit! You definitely took way longer fixing that light bulb than you should have.

"Ah! I'll be returning quickly then! Sun!" You turn around to ask him for your lunchbox, but he's already handing it out to you. ".... Thank you," you softly tell him as you take the lunchbox from his hands without a fight and run toward the restaurant.

And now it's just Vanessa and Sun.

"You really like ruining other people's fun, don't you?" Sun glares at Vanessa.

"Just like you ruined mine last night. It's payback for that and for ruining my desk with your little jealousy tantrum." she hisses back at him, then turns to walk away from the basement without another word and toward the main desk, leaving Sun alone in the basement glaring at her.

"Party pooper." He exclaims with a huff as he crosses his arms. And they were having so much fun toying around with their darling starlight.

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"What took you so damn long?!" Augh. Bob's mad mad. "Sorry... I just got a bit distracted." you say as you put on your apron, not daring yourself to look at his face.

"Then stop lazing around and go tend those customers." He growls at you and returns to his cooking. You sigh and walk towards the table with your notebook out, ready to start your second shift.

[charmac]

DomBottom x SubTop

Yup, Mac actually fucks Dennis