#my process is. definitely made for the way i write. i don't think i would ever recommend anybody do what i do with my fics

[crab-crime-enthusiast]

Definitely some interesting additions, and something I did contend with when I was writing these. Discussions under the cut with a Content Warning for discussions of Ableism & Disability Curism:

You raise a good point about the inherent ableism present (especially with Pirrha canonically being blind and being forced to cure himself of his own disability in order to be considered of any value), and I do think many deaf Eliksni were either pressured into getting prosthesis/augmentation or... worse. That's a common part of sci-fi/fantasy stories like this, unfortunately, and you see it reflected in conversations about disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy stories all the time: The age-old debate of "why is my fantasy character in a wheelchair when magic exists?" and etc. etc.

I started thinking about this whole thing because I'm really interested in disability accommodations within these settings (as I'm disabled myself) rather than taking the approach of curism due to its rather... problematic nature. In my story, I wanted to more deeply explore disability within the Destiny universe as it's something woefully ignored for the most-part in canon. I think it's a missed opportunity when one of Destiny's core themes is about persistence and resilience against even the most dire of odds. I promise this isn't intended to be me shilling for my fic, I'm just talking about my thought processes! ^.^''

The interpretation I ended up going with for Sign (which I unfortunately forgot to include in my post x_x) was that some Conversational Sign persisted through the knowledge of a few select individuals who continued to pass it on and down despite most likely being pressured to augment their hearing. Military Sign, on the other hand, is a much more robust system due to the turn to a heavily militaristic culture, with information on it more readily available.

However, as information sources dwindled, Conversational Sign diverged into strong dialects as users filled in gaps in knowledge with their own contributions, which then persisted into any individuals they ended up passing their knowledge on to. Going back to my fic in particular, Kiraks learned Military Sign and then kinda made it up as she went due to a lack of a tutor when it came to creating a system of Conversational Sign. Her system of Sign is something she made up with her sister as a way to reclaim some independence after she lost her ability to speak.

The nature of the dissemination of sign knowledge meant that highly specific (and possibly even 'incorrect' sign) dialects became the norm, simply as sources about a more centralised and consistent language dwindled both to the brutal nature of the Drift and forced augmentation essentially drastically reducing the population that actively spoke Conversational Sign; Any chance of a centralised language realistically died off with the perishing of all but one of the Judgement Scribes. Variks would likely be the best source for possibly learning something akin to true Riisian sign (especially as I personally headcanon he has permanent vocal damage after Phylaks choked him in The Once-Shipstealer, and thus he sometimes uses non-verbal communication), but even his knowledge would likely be something not wholly applicable due to the high levels of variance now present in the speakers that remain.

A bit of a tangent, but I wonder if the actual usability of conversational sign would be affected by whether Eliksni Hatchlings take to augmentation from youth or not, as I imagine one of the main use-cases for conversational sign post-Drift would most realistically be giving Hatchlings a way to communicate until they're at an age that they can take to augments without danger to their life. I personally don't know if there are any sources that mention the augmentation of Hatchlings in the lore so I can't really make a call. If anybody does, please feel free to add them to this convo, I'd love to learn more!

I'm sorry to have dumped a mini-essay on you in this reblog, I just have a lot of thoughts about this topic ;-; Thanks for reading if you made it this far.

Eliksni Sign Language

Soooo in writing the next Chapter for The Light Provides, I've decided to write up some notes about the Eliksni Sign Language I have Kiraks speaking within the story. She's not deaf but is completely mute save for some chitters, and this lead me down a route of theorising about the different forms that Eliksni Sign Language can take. This isn't everything and I'm still building on the idea, but just putting what I have down. Ramblings below the cut:

Disclaimer: I don't speak sign language irl but I've taken somewhat of an interest in it due to living with someone who is partially deaf. This is just me spitballing about a system implemented in the world of my fic, building mostly on the idea of how a four-armed species with different ideas of social communication may develop a system of non-verbal communication. Please let me know if there is anything offensive and I'll remove it. It's never my intent to hurt anybody.

Basic/Background Notes:

Sign language not a standardised/centralised language due to the Long Drift and the splintering of Eliksni culture.

Dialects vary massively between Houses, especially as there is little to no remaining documentation about the language and only a few speak it.

Eliksni wishing to learn the language often must seek out a tutor who already knows it to get more than a very basic grasp on signing, leading to the perpetuation of House-specific dialects.

Glyphic alphabet remains mostly consistent between House Dialects, but syntax may differ.

High degrees of variation with subdialects of House-specific sign language developing to suit the wider range of body types present post-Whirlwind.

Cultural variations of sign language poses issues with unification attempts e.g. House Salvation, House Light & House Dusk.

TL;DR Sign language is tricky and complex with many different slightly different variations due to the Long Drift, making it difficult to learn and not applicable cross-Houses.

Denoting Tone:

A major degree of dialect variation comes from the favouring of facial expressions versus body language to denote tone.

Piggybacking a bit off of Eliksni expressions headcanons, but positioning of mandibular hairs as well as mandibles and nictitating membranes used to convey tone in dialects that favour facial features.

This form is more overtly favoured by mute Eliksni, whether that be due to developmental issues, psychological factors or physical conditions & damage to their voices.

Some utilise natural subvocalisations too, but this is rare, especially amongst Deaf speakers.

Some deaf speakers of this form may learn to understand patterns of vibrations associated with subvocalisations and learn to mimic them, if they did not know them prior e.g. Hatched profoundly deaf or suffered hearing damage in very early youth.

In this case, their vocalisations may sound 'off' to other Eliksni, a bit like a speech impediment.

Dialects that favour body language utilises things such as scent markers in conjunction with the position of the lower arms to denote tone.

Mandible snaps or clicks in communication are instead denoted through a claw tapping motion produced by pinching the claws together (Think like tapping the thumb to the middle and index finger). Claws simulate clicking sound.

Lower arms make tonal indications whilst upper arms are used for signing actual words or phrases. This developed due to the lower set of arms being naturally less strong and precise than the upper arms, making them less suited to prolonged sessions of extremely quick signing when in conversation.

Naturally, this form of sign does not accommodate for Eliksni who have been docked, but one-handed versions of this dialect have been developed by some docked speakers.

Nouns and names:

Common nouns and proper nouns have their own special designated signs

Regular names are instead either spelled out of their individual letters or, in some dialects, compressed down into their constitute syllables.

Syllables are often comprised of shortened individual letter signs, following common sounds like the way there are specific glyphs in the Eliksni written alphabet for sounds like "kk", "rr", "im".

Other Notes:

Using both sets of arms to sign primary language is viewed almost akin to shouting.

[pyrriax]

6, 12, 30 for the writing asks ^_^

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

Shaking its head in what seems like disbelief before meeting his eyes again, almost like it wants to say something before it makes a noise like a growl, "oh, you're one of those seraphs, aren't you. A star-eater. No wonder you act like you've lost your mind."

(ignore that that's a couple sentences, the Thought is important)

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Oh yes! I outline my fics thoroughly. Though, I do allowed myself to deviate as much from the outline as I feel like when things go off the rails. Some snippets of planning from a couple fics & concepts:

My outlines are very... One for one. With some exceptions. I tend to basically write a very brief version of the fic and try to get the feelings and words right before I actually write it. This is... Also why it can and will take me a month to write a oneshot. I try to get things Right.

30. How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

So! I edit them a bit? I edit while I work, but often I don't really touch anything I've already written unless it's something longer that might be taking a few months to get through. I think the fic I've edited the most is the prologue of Artificial Stars, which was originally a quickly written 2k oneshot into about 5k of actually decent fic.

Usually I don't edit to make something shorter/more concise, since I tend to only come up with more ways to bridge concepts when I go back to it. Also to be fair... There's usually no difference between first draft and final product. I cannot be asked to edit my fics after I write them, I just release them to the birds and pray for the best. (Unless I actually decide to show it to my beta reader in full instead of just sharing snippets as I... usually do.)

Conclusion: Rarely, those thangs are being given to the world as-is unless something is horrifically wrong with them

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

 Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Blondes, feet, bowl-cut guardian lady.

He did not, they never had sex. But he was in love with her.

For sure. I think she struck him more like a teenager with the black hair and bangs, after the change (both visual and in attitude) she became a far more mature AND attractive person in his eyes.

PFFT, well, if you're saying they meet ALL of the criteria, I assume you mean both in looks and personality and hence be damn near his soulmate. DU drow could overlook weird feet (and a lot of other things, actually) if he were in love with the person in question. He would probably gently request they take better care of them, though.

Nothing special there, I'm afraid! He just has human-like skin - perhaps a little on the oily side but completely within the bounds of normality.

He runs a little hot, if that's anything. Oh! His hair is shockingly soft.

Correct! DU drow only (arguably) looks like a drow. He doesn't have their usual bone structure, height, or associated magical proclivities. He has some dark vision but its nowhere near as good as a drow's either.

I don't necessarily think all Bhaalspawn are the same way, but the Dark Urge IS quite different from the previous game's iterations. DU isn't simply Bhaal's child conceived with a partner, he's a piece of the god that supposedly slobbed off and grew legs and a face, pretty much. So yes, I do think that the Dark Urge at least is it's own unique thing.

The reason why he looks like a drow, is because he was placed in the Underdark upon creation. The metaphor I always use here is that if you place something infantile in a biome that is alien to it, it may try to adapt to it's environment to survive as it develops, to different degrees of success. This is why DU drow looks the way he does.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

You're welcome!

I've received a few snippets here that you can find through the #gift art tag! There is also the fic I'm in the process of writing called A Novel Experience on AO3.

It was just something I was compelled to do when I first drew him! The facial scars felt like they should lead into something else so I just made up a pattern on the spot, minus a tiny tweak here or there, it has stuck basically unchanged. All and any lore relating to the scars came later.

I get a lot of sweet messages but "thanks for your man's penis size" has to be one of my favorites. Thank you!

HELLO!

Thank you so much for the kind message! And that sounds like a fun dream, I love that your Tav got jealous of the attention ASTARION was receiving instead of mad that he had to share in the first place LOL

DU drow is desperately monogamous. He doesn't care what other people do with their lives but he's very much a "one and done" kind of person.

He would be willingly to participate in a threeway/have group sex with a partner, assuming the rules and regulations of said encounter were laid out clearly before or at least mutually understood between them. He would never want to see these people again after the fact though.

She does not, naturally I had no idea that this character was going to turn into anything when i made him, so I just... Made a lady. And since she was supposed to be a "guardian" I gave her a Joan of Arc type of look.

I've occasionally thought about changing this, but... Y'know, sometimes you don't need lore to be that in-depth, LOL.

The emperor gave everyone else a nondescript hottie he assumed they would trust, DU drow just got the same treatment. She's not even DU drow's type but definitely someone he would be compelled to take seriously yet not feel threatened by - so ultimately, her design does make sense.

---

That's all I have the energy for tonight folks, as always thank you for the many encouraging and sweet messages you send me, I'm sorry I can't reply to all of them! 😭

Have yourselves a great week!

[canmom]

one of the people i most looked up to when i was first transing has, many years later, pretty hard disidentified with words like 'trans woman', 'transfem' and so on. they still write to an audience of mostly dolls, but they're doing some other gender thing now, and tend not to like being put in the trans woman/transfem box.

chewing on this and other things. fundamentally I don't think gender is real. I have called it an egregore, and that still seems apt. and yet, words like 'trans', 'autistic' and so on are a pretty powerful correlate with the sort of person I tend to vibe with.

transing isn't revealing some inner girl essence. the forces that produce a trans woman when enacted on the eager-to-reshape-itself human brain don't necessarily only produce trannies: it is one of a number of moves available to you.

it is, however, a really big play in the game. given how ludicrously much gender infects every social interaction, going off-script in a big way is going to affect your psychology hugely. doing that activates the feedback loops, the self-exciting instability, a set of rituals let you become something more 'real', or perhaps more precisely, something you have actively defined. the unpredictable outcome of that process is both the entire point and not the point at all.

rachel pollack spoke of transing in terms of religious ecstasy. "I would argue that transsexuality arises from a passion so powerful that it transcends issues of happiness. The word passion originally meant suffering, not pleasure."

so having made a declaration like, i am this sort of creature, you break everything down and start to rebuild. you go on to take actions to affirm it, or even simply build an inner, secret core, and doing this - physically, socially - transforms the resonances of your thinking.

we have constructed many rituals to make the declaration of transness more definite. a lot of them will affect your sensory experience: the immediate effect of hrt on how your skin responds to touch is surely one of the great virtues. take surgery, for example - do you need to get your penis turned inside out? well: the drama of making a drastic alteration to your body, and the sheer difficulty of getting it, makes it an especially powerful ritual. but it's not the only way to go. indeed, most girls I know haven't done it (whether or not they want to), and instead, the symbol of woman-with-penis has become one of our core subculture-images. in the last few years, the word faggot has come back in a big way, with a real gendered connotation now, sorta like what the girls on here were trying to get at with baeddel before all the shit happened. that's also a move.

so this phenomenon, this new game we're building together, includes surgeries as a move. but it also includes a lot of the subculture-building classics: weird fashions, radical politics, drugs, kinky sex, making noises on the computer, and so on.

and since the whole point of this thing is a process of defining yourself into existence, as soon as something starts to become a cliché, an orthodoxy, a mandated practice, it starts to break down. everything is stupid fucking contextual. if everyone around you is desperately pursuing genital surgery, saying 'I like my dick and want to keep it' becomes a potent move. but if the pendulum swings the other way, once everyone is saying 'do you really need surgery, you know you don't need it to Be Trans, please stay as you are since it's easier for us that way', maybe that ritual regains some of its power. it's perverse. perversity is kind of necessary to it.

so the meta evolves.

i am speaking about transness here, but i think similar forces are at work with other self-id games, autism and so on. there is like, actual biological variation, but far more important is the ideas we're playing with on top of that. what concepts are activated when I think 'autism', now largely positive associations: sensory this, obsession that; not the same as twenty years ago. thankfully my fellow autists made an interesting game to make of it: a space to express something.

[didyougaming]

Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Romantic Experiment

SUMMARY: They want you to assist them with a simple experiment. They'll show you how it's done, maybe try to convince you to join the science club and definitely flirt along the way.

CHARACTERS: Science Club (Trey Clover / Rook Hunt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Dating; Romantic Relationship; Flirting

WARNING: Do Not try Rook's experiment at home! Mercury is very Toxic! Trey's experiment is safe, tho.

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.330 words per character.

COMMENTS: If you follow me, you know that if I write more than 1k it's because I got excited and had more ideas than I expected. I relied on this page to learn about and describe the experiments. If I made a mistake somewhere, I studied arts, not science, ok? I’m sorry. 😅

I hope you enjoy 🧪

CONTEXT: Either you two are dating or already at the beginning of your relationship, so you're still in that flirting phase.

Trey and you were talking about the school clubs because you were wondering if you should join one. So, Trey suggests that you go with him to the science club one day to see if you like it and are interested in joining. But thinking about how demanding Professor Crewel can be, you comment that perhaps it is too difficult for you.

“Too difficult?” He smiled, that smile the other Heartslabyul students usually described as a protective older brother smile. “Don't worry, it's just a visit. And even if you want to join the club, no one will force you to do anything you can't do. We are free to do the experiences that interest us most. And of course, if you need help I will always be there for you.”

You met Trey at the classroom door just before the science club meeting started. Like you, he was already wearing his lab coat too.

“We're not going in yet.” He tells you. “I had an idea for a simple experiment that you might like. And I wanted you to participate in all the steps, or as many as possible, so I need you to come with me to get the components. Shall we?”

First you two go to Sam's Mystery Shop to buy yellow, cyan and magenta professional floral dyes and tonic water. You ask if the experiment is to make colorful flowers.

“I can't make that part a surprise, can I?” He says with a smile and his eyebrows arched in pity. “Let's say we're going to paint the roses but not just red. And speaking of which, they are the ones we are going to get now before going back to the classroom.”

Then he takes you to the botanical garden and leads you to a corner where white rose buds are growing.

“I took the liberty of planting them beforehand so we could start the experiment straight away.” He explains. “What you see are three different rose cultivars. Vendela, La Belle and Avalanche.” He indicates each one while saying the name. “They are said to be the best for absorbing dye. The dyeing process can take a few days, so an open bloom won’t last long enough. That's why we're going to use buds that have not fully opened. Could you help me pick them?” he asks rhetorically, just being the well-mannered man that he is.

If you take a moment to look at him concentrating on cutting the stems of the roses, he will smile at you, without taking his eyes off the flowers, and say: “As flattered as I am with you admiring me, I would really prefer it if you were more worried about not cutting yourself.” You were wearing gloves, so the rose thorns weren't as much of a concern as the scissors you were using to cut them.

He will finish picking his share of the roses faster than you pick yours, and he will stop to look at you. If you notice and look at him, he will say with a smirk: “I've already finished my part. Now it's my turn to admire you at work. You really are more attractive when you're focused.” and he will laugh at your reaction to that sudden comment. “Fine, I'll help you.” He says with his calm smile “Like I said, I don't want you to cut yourself.”

You only took the rose buds, but some of the other roses were already open. He picks one, hands it to you and in front of your eyes "Doodle Suit" the rose petals turn into your favorite color(s) with a soft whisper. You take the flower with a smile and he kisses your cheek.

He gets up, picks up the shopping bag with one hand and the dozen roses that you two picked with the other. “We can go back now. Everything else we need is already in the classroom.”

You were in the classroom with other science club members, but there was room for everyone. Trey was right, it was a simple and kind of relaxing experiment. You used a sharp blade to cut the stem of the roses into 3 sections. If you didn't feel confident using it, Trey would have no problem cutting the stems for you. You added dye and tonic water to three plastic bags. If you ask if you couldn't use regular water, he’ll say:

“Yes, regular water is commonly used, but tonic water creates a special effect that I want to be a surprise when I show it to you. So be patient okay?” he winks.

You carefully separated each section of stem and place it in its own bag of dyed water, used a rubber band to secure the bags to the roses and placed the flowers in a bud vase to keep them upright. You needed to place the flowers in a cool place, away from direct sunlight, so Trey suggested placing them under the table and making a sign warning other students to be careful.

“The petals will begin to change color within a couple of hours, but it may take a few days to achieve the best color.” He explains. “During this time, we need to make certain the roses don’t run out of liquid. Therefore, we may need to add more dyed water from time to time.”

For a couple of days you and Trey texted each other to arrange shifts to check the flowers and add more dye water. You saw the roses opening slowly and the the white petals turning into increasingly more vivid colors. The mixture of yellow, cyan and magenta made them a perfect rainbow color. You would often also find a small note written by Trey, usually inviting you to have tea and try some sweet treat that he made or was going to make for you.

And then one night, the two of you agreed to meet in the classroom because Trey thought the roses were ready. It was just the two of you. He turned on the lights and went to get the bouquet of rainbow roses. They were absolutely beautiful! He took out a flashlight and handed it to you.

“Do you want to find out what tonic water does?” He asked you with a quite excited smile. He takes his magic pen, points it at the lights in the room and turns them off. “Turn on the flashlight and point it at the roses.”

You do it. It was a black light that when pointed at the roses made them glow. The more amazed you are, the happier he will be. He hands you the bouquet and holds the lantern himself.

“I know this is going to sound a lot like Cater, but can I take a photo of you holding the roses? After all this was an experiment and I need to record the experiments I do.” You agree and he takes a photo with his cell phone while pointing the black light at the flowers. He looks at the photo with a smug smile.

“I can't wait to see Rook's face when he sees this photo.” You ask why. After all, this was a simple experiment. “It's not because of the experiment, it's because of the photo itself. It's a beautiful photo and he won't be able to deny it. And I'm not just talking about the roses.” He smirks.

You ask if it wouldn't be a good idea to take a photo with him too, after all he was the main scientist. He laughs, and agrees, and the two of you take a selfie with the flowers, the black light on the table and pointed at the two of you. He looked even more attractive with the rainbow glow of the roses pointing at him. And in the middle of the night. He looked at you with the same thought.

“So what you say? You'll join me at the science club. There are more exciting experiments we can do together.” He smirks, takes the bouquet and places it carefully on the table without taking his eyes off you, and breaking the distance that the roses were causing between the two of you. “What do you think about being my assistant? Tempting? Or is that just my lips?” You were indied looking at them, the same way he was looking at yours.

“My Dear Trickster!” Rook appeared out of nowhere, as he does so often, and with his lab coat on. He held your hand with one of his, your waist with the other and lovingly pulled you closer to him. “Fate is so generous in making me meet you at this moment!” He kisses your cheek.

“I was just now heading to the classroom where the science club meets and thinking about all the possibilities of new experiments I could do when I saw one on my list that would be merveilleuse to do with you of all people! S'il te plaît, come with me mon amour. I'll show you how much my heart beats for you!”

Instead of taking you to the classroom, he first took you to Mr. S's Mystery Shop, as you needed to buy the main component for that experiment.

“Welcome, little imps! Looking for a last-minute forgotten item perhaps?” Sam assumed from Rook's lab coat. And maybe he also knew about the science club meeting.

“A specific ingredient for a last-minute decided to be done experiment, would be more accurate.” Rook smiled. “As far as I know, such things are not an enemy to your stock, correct?”

“On the contrary! Name it and I'll tell you where and how much it is.” Sam winked.

“Liquid Mercury.” Rook responds naturally.

“Mercury?!” Sam was surprised but not shocked. “You know it's toxic right? And relatively expensive.”

“I am very aware of that, oui.” He was still smiling, but with that sly half-closed look of his. “It's for the science club. I had already informed Professor Crewel and he authorized me to purchase it.”

“He did... without a paper...” Sam whispered to himself, before talking to Rook again. “You are of age then?”

“Oui je suis.” He handed Sam his ID. “You would have enough for a simple experiment, non?”

“How many grams do you need?” Sam asked, handing back the ID and smiling like the helpful salesman he is.

On the way back to the classroom, you expressed your concerns and apprehension regarding Rook's experiment. You weren't a member of the science club, how could you help? And about the toxic mercury?

“Worry not, Trickster.” He smiled confidently. “The amount of mercury we will be using is safe, especially while wearing coats, gloves and glasses. The only ingredient I will ever intoxicate you with is love, mon cher.” He puts his hand on your waist and gently pulls you to kiss your cheek. “And as for why I want you to be with me when I do the experiment... he he... you'll find out when you see it.”

“Bon après-midi!” He greets, as soon as he enter the classroom. He didn't explain why you were with him, but no one asked either. The other club members asked each other, but it seemed like no one had much courage to ask Rook directly. Except one person.

“Hi Rook, (Y/N).” Trey greeted you. “You had never come to a club meeting before. Are you thinking about joining or did you just come to assist Rook?”

You say you came because Rook asked you, but now that he was talking about it, you could also see what the club was like and think about whether you would like to join.

“You will always be welcome!” Rook says. “Oh, but Chevalier des Roses you are very cruel to me.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“Now you've put the merveilleuse image of (Y/N) and I here, doing experiments together. How heartbreaking it will be now to have that fantasy destroyed. You truly underestimate the thorns in your words.”

Trey smiled like he was thinking that Rook was just being dramatic again. “Well, I apologize, but aren't you putting (Y/N) in a position where it will now be difficult to refuse the invitation?”

“Non. There is nothing more charming than the free will of one's heart. I will be happy with whatever my dear Trickster decides.” his usual smile became sly. “Are you perhaps trying to pass the blame for your words onto someone else?”

“Of course not. Don't distort my intentions.” Trey adjusts his glasses, still smiling politely. “I'll leave you to your experiment. I also have something I want to test.” He walked away.

He puts what you bought on a table and goes to get the rest of the materials that were already in the room. A petri dish, pipettes, a new nail and a small bottle with a transparent liquid.

When he went to get the second bottle, the glass was dark, so he had to read the label. He picked up one that made several heads turn and a collective sigh of concern was heard. “Potassium chlorate...” He read to himself, but with the silence in the classroom, the others could also hear him. “Ups... not chlorate, dichromate.” He put the bottle back in the cabinet and took out another like it with the label: Potassium dichromate. A sigh of relief was heard in the room and the students returned to focusing on their projects.

Rook returned to the table laughing. You ask him why the other members reacted that way to the first bottle.

“Potassium Chlorate.” he explains. “Is a strong oxidizing agent that has a wide variety of uses. It is or has been a component of explosives, fireworks, safety matches, and disinfectants. I think they were afraid I was going to make explosives.” he leans in and whispers in your ear. “Don't tell them that it is a possibility for another day.”

You begin the experiment. He place a drop of mercury in the petri dish. Then he pour transparent liquid over the drop to cover it. He explains to you that it is sulfuric acid. He then add a small amount of what is on the second bottle. They look like little red crystals, almost as small as dust. That was potassium dichromate. He waits some time before giving you the new nail.

He stands behind you and holds your hand that is holding the nail with his. “Now let's see if it works. Shall we?” He practically whispered that in your ear. He makes you slowly bring the tip of the nail closer to the drop of mercury. And before you touch it, the drop starts to move and... beat like a heart. The mercury drop will beat for about 20 seconds before stopping.

“Mercury Beating Heart.” He explains sweetly. “Is a popular chemistry demonstration based on an an electrochemical redox reaction that causes a blob of mercury to oscillate, resembling a beating heart. Simple, dangerous, and beautiful.”

He frees your hand and lets you continue the experiment on your own if you want. The tip of the nail never touches the mercury and the heart will always beat for a few seconds before you try again.

“The club wants to hold a small fair to demonstrate some experiments. I thought this would be a simple but interesting demo to show potential new members. So, you tell me, what do you think?”

You can tell him it's an excellent idea, but if you're concentrating on the mercury heart, making it beat gently, he won't need any verbal response.

He laughs. “Beauté! I could watch your fascinated look all day. However...” He brings his face closer to yours. You move the nail away from the mercury, and he places a finger under your chin, moving your head slightly. Your lips very close. “I would hunt to have that look on me instead.”

If you want to know more, here are the links to the experiments:

Trey -> Rainbow Roses

Rook -> Mercury Beating Heart

And if you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[hotteoki]

getting into an argument with skz (hyung line)

warnings: slamming doors (does that count as violence?), lots of swearing, regular angst, fluff-ish making up at the end

notes: i was feeling like some angst except i haven't written it in a long time so uh it's a bit shit el oh el + idk if i want to write maknae line cause i wouldn't even know how to write for felix LIKE THAT MAN IS AN ANGEL

©️ strayedstars | do not repost

chan (방찬)

chan was stressed, it was obvious to anyone. he didn't get angry often, nor does he get upset with people easily, but the deadlines and pressure had been getting to him lately. you did everything you could to help him, from making his favourite food every day to taking him out for dinner, and he made sure to let you know how grateful he was for those.

today, however, when chan stepped through the door, you hadn't noticed how he seemed more closed off when you asked how his day was, or how he didn't give you any form of greeting. it was when you stood up from your seated position on the couch, did you feel the tension radiating off of him. you approached him cautiously, fearing that if you said the wrong things, it would aggravate him even more.

worried, you placed a gentle hand on his arm, "chan, is everything okay-" he pushed your hand off immediately, replying with a short 'i'm fine.' "are you sure? you know you can always talk to-" he inhaled deeply, "oh my fucking- yes i'm sure. i clearly don't want to fucking talk to you, so why are you still pressing me? it's like you just don't fucking listen to me. you’re so damn clingy sometimes." there was a deathly silence. you could tell he didn't mean for his words to come out so harshly, but it hurt all the same.

chan, seemingly in disbelief by his own words as much as you, opened his mouth to apologise, but closed it. you weren’t even sure what hurt you more; the fact that he yelled at you, or that he couldn’t even be bothered to apologise. "what the fuck," you whispered out. still processing his words, you wordlessly made your way to the bedroom and closed the door, hurt and slightly embarrassed. you heard his callings of your name, but you ignored them, just wanting to give him, and yourself, some space. never would you have thought your own boyfriend would be the one to make you cry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you stirred awake. mind still fuzzy, you tried to remember what happened before you went to sleep. right. chan. you sat up, now slightly more awake. looking down, you were confused at the fact that you were holding your wolf chan plushie you lost a while back, and you definitely would not have had time to charge your phone, so what- oh.

squinting your eyes, you finally acknowledged chan sitting by the edge of the bed, his slouched back facing you. had you forgotten to lock the door? contemplating whether you should go up to him or not, you knew the two of you had to talk about it sooner or later. switching on the bedside light and crawling over until you were side to side with him, you sat with your legs crossed, your warm hands wrapped around your ankles.

you turned your head to look at him, stifling your laughter. chan had fallen asleep while sitting down, presumably thinking about the situation. shaking him awake, he blinked his eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim light from behind the two of you. you weren't sure if it was because of the witching hour, or because you simply weren't mad at him at all, but you found yourself leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i'm so sorry, angel," chan breathed out, voice shaky. "i know," you responded simply. "no, you don't get it," he stood, only to kneel down on the cold bedroom floor in front of you. he reached for your hands, rubbing circles soothingly over the back of your hand, "i'm so, so, sorry. i was in a bad mood, and i took it out on you, and you didn't deserve a second of it. i'm so incredibly sorry."

chan's head dipped down, and you could faintly see his teardrops staining his joggers. "chan," you called his name gently. his bloodshot eyes looked up to meet yours. you freed one of your hands from his grasp to place on his wet cheeks, smiling at how he instinctively leaned into your touch, "it's okay. i forgive you." he but only sobbed more, "i don't deserve you."

you knew that right now, no matter what you say, he would never forgive himself, so you opted to guide him back on his feet, leading him under the warm duvets, "let's just sleep for now, okay? we'll talk more tomorrow."

minho (민호)

minho was trying really hard to be patient with you. he really was, but you kept forgetting which brand of treats were soonie's favourite, or which pet dish is doongie's, or where to place dori's favourite toys, and it was getting on his nerves. he knew you weren't doing this on purpose, you had a lot on your mind, but, really, was it that hard to remember a few extra things?

it was the fourth time in the past week that you've asked him if the cats have had their dinner yet. minho had already had a rough day at work, with the others being uncoordinated and him losing his phone, and your 'hey min, they've had dinner already, right?' made him snap.

he felt a hot wave of anger wash over him, without meaning to, he began spatting words out, "yes, they've had their dinner. we have a schedule for their meals, what part of a schedule do you not understand? if you could just use your head for once, maybe you'll fucking remember something!" in the heat of the moment, you retorted, crossing your arms, "i could say the same to you! you never put your shit together, your clothes are always on the floor, i always have to clean up for you! maybe for once, you should be the one using your head!"

minho groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, "give me a fucking break, will you? you're so exasperating." swallowing thickly, you managed out, "fine, you want a fucking break? have a fucking break." making your way to your bedroom, him following along, refusing to let you walk away. you went straight into the room, slamming the door shut in his face and locking it. "fine! have it your way!" minho yelled, hitting his fist against the door once, storming out the house.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it had been exactly 3 hours and 28 minutes since the fight. minho knew only because he kept checking his phone every 2 minutes to see if there were any notifications from you. he wasn't even sure why he was checking in the first place, he should be the one apologising, not you.

pocketing his phone, he stood up from his seat on the bench in a nearby park. slowly but surely, minho made his way back, only praying that you were still there. rummaging for his keys in front of the door, his heart all but stung more at the heart keychain with both of your names on it along with your anniversary.

creaking the door open, minho's heart dropped at the silence that greeted him. he called out your name once, then twice. practically running up to your shared bedroom, he rattled the doorknob. still locked. his heart pounded over fear that something had happened to you.

holding back to the urge to cry in frustration, minho began rapidly banging on the door, "please, please, please, open up the door!" the door finally cracked open, your tired, red-rimmed eyes blinking hazily up at him. "you're okay? you're okay!" minho pushed the door open all the way, examining your body all around before pulling you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you securely.

"why didn't you answer?!" he nearly yelled. you, still bleary, rubbed your eyes, "i was sleeping. w-why are you here? i thought you left?" minho almost burst into tears right then and there, burying his face in your hair, "oh love, i'm never ever leaving you again. i'm so fucking sorry. i'm so, so, so, fucking sorry. i promise you, i'll do so much better."

changbin (창빈)

you knew the pain in changbin's right leg from an injury at the gym had been irritating him for the past few weeks, rendering him barely able to do anything without wanting to scream in frustration. you had been helping him a lot, from carrying his bags to picking up things when he had dropped them.

you made sure changbin was as comfortable as he could be, especially considering how moody he was acting the entire day. he had refused to leave the bed, which was extremely unlike him. normally, even if he was in a horrible mood, he would still get up and go about his day, claiming that if he didn't, he would be 'wasting the precious moments of life'.

you knocked on the bedroom door gingerly before opening it up a crack, not sure if he was awake or not. changbin was sat up straight, leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. smiling, slightly relieved you hadn't disturbed his sleep, you opened the door full, "hey binnie, how are you feel-" "oh my- i'm okay, leave me alone. you don't have to keep babying me 24/7, it's so irritating." with a final look, his eyes turned back to his phone, ignoring your presence. to say you were shocked at his outburst was an understatement.

"are you serious?" you raised an eyebrow, "i have been taking care of you all week and this is how you thank me?" scoffing, he continued to avoid your glare, "i didn't ask you to." realising that he wasn’t going to apologise any time soon, you cast aside your surprise, honestly wanting to leave as quickly as you could. pursing your lips, you set the glass of water you had been holding on the bedside drawer along with a new charger that he had been complaining for, and left the room promptly. you could only hope changbin would reflect on his words.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was only minutes later when changbin called out your name once from the bedroom. you paused the movie playing on the television, contemplating whether you should ignore him or not. you were just about to pick up the remote again when you heard a loud thud.

without hesitating, you ran up to the bedroom, opening the door. changbin sat on the floor, clutching his leg, wincing at the pain. "what the hell did you do?" he remained silent. you immediately hoisted him back up to sit by the edge of the bed, kneeling in front to check for any bruises. sure enough, a purple spot was beginning to form on his shin.

sighing, you sat next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer. changbin sniffed, "i was trying to get up and go apologise to you, but i fell off the bed." giving him a small smile, you rubbed his thigh comfortingly. you weren't exactly sure how to respond.

sucking in a deep breathe, changbin began, "i'm really sorry for, you know, what i said earlier. i was being ungrateful, and i'm genuinely so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i just-" he was rushing his words. you rubbed his back, "no, i get it. i know you'd never hurt anyone intentionally." changbin couldn't meet your eyes. "but it still hurt me a lot."

he instantly locked his eyes with yours, "and i promise i will do anything in this world to make it up to you." he held out his pinky. you laughed, linking your pinky with his and pressing your thumbs together. "you can't break it now," you teased. "i won't." that was one of the most genuine things you'd ever heard changbin say.

hyunjin (현진)

hyunjin was experiencing an artist block. this didn't happen often, but when it did, it stuck for a long time; everything he drew looked wrong, it was either the shadows were in the wrong place, or the colour looked a little off, or the entire thing was just not what he pictured in general. letting out a groan, he rubbed his face was his free hand, feeling a headache coming along.

slamming his paintbrush down on the canvas stand, he glared at the blank sheet, like something would magically appear and would cure his annoyance. "hey hyunnie, i'm home!" your voice echoed around the house, and for once, it pissed him off. how are you so carefree and happy while he had to suffer? hyunjin got up from his stool and went to greet you, deciding that you at least deserved one.

"oh hey hyunnie, here's the drink that you've been wanting!" you fished something out of the bag. it was the wrong one. it wasn't the one hyunjin wanted. already irritated, his words came out without him even noticing, "how many times do i have to tell you it's not this one? if you really knew which drink is the one i want, you’d open your eyes and realise it’s not this one. either way, there's a reason why i didn't buy it, do you know how expensive it is?"

before you could interject, he continued on, not able to control what he was saying, "no, of course you don't. you just live in your own little carefree life, right? everything gets done for you, you never have to worry about anything, right?" word vomit. those last comments infuriated you, "carefree? carefree? hyunjin you have no idea how hard i had been working for the past few days! i have a job too, you know? news flash, you're not the only special one!"

hyunjin's heart ached. he never thought about what you might be going through. "yeah, no, if i'm such a bother because of the way i live my life, then maybe i should leave for a bit," you sighed, leaving the kitchen and to the bedroom. hyunjin couldn't even describe the guilt in his chest as he watched you leave.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hyunjin sat outside the bedroom, waiting for you to come out, but also because he was scared. scared that you hated him now. scared that you won't forgive him. scared that you decided that maybe this relationship wasn't worth-

the sound of the door opening cut off his train of thoughts. you peeked out from behind the door, looking down cautiously at him, "what are you doing on the floor?" "i- i just- i don't know," hyunjin sighed, shielding his face away from you. he didn't want you to see him cry.

"hey, hey," you slid down next to him, legs tucked underneath. you reached to hold his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. his glassy eyes met yours, "i mess everything up." with those words, he broke down. "oh, darling," you pulled him close and held him to your chest, "no you don't." "but i do," he stifled another sob, "i can't draw at all and i yelled at you and now you hate me-" "who said i hated you?" you ran your fingers through his hair.

his body relaxed, and hyunjin found himself leaning into your hold subconsciously. "couples have fights every now and then, and that's normal, hyunnie. and yes, you did yell at me, but so did i. as for your paintings, i'm sure you just need some motivation, and i'll help you find it." he pulled himself away slightly, tilting up to meet your forgiving smile. you'd never looked more beautiful in his eyes. "you. i want to paint you."

for @minvho @hyunverse @felixore @alyszaen and them only

[heathsuii]

Senior Year

「 Suna Rintaro x Reader 」

₊˚ෆ synopsis. you reflect on how quickly autumn had arrived, mirroring the swift changes in your own life as you enter senior year of high school.

cw. fem reader, fluff, slight angst, highschool!au, seatmate!suna, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is emotional, not proofread !

words. 975

a/n. happy belated four years to this blog! the urge to write caught up to me. i'm thinking of actually making a masterlist for this. let me know your thoughts and i hope y'all have a great day <333

autumn air and hues of orange leaves work alongside to guide the new season. fall had snuck in like a shadow at sundown, and while you hadn't noticed it until now, everything seemed to have change over night.

yesterday, the trees were still holding on to their green, hesitant to let go. today, there were amber streaks, and the wind carried a definite feel that you hadn't felt in months. it seemed to be moving too quickly.

it felt like it was just yesterday when he made the decision to sit next to you. becoming one of many interactions you'll share. you let out a quiet sigh, thinking back to those days that felt like they would last forever. alas, life never seemed to work that way. now, here you are—senior year. the last one. the year you had been waiting for, yet now that it was here, you weren't sure where the time had gone.

you're sitting on a bench outside the inarizaki school gymnasium. waiting for a certain someone to finish volleyball practice. this was your routine for who knows how long almost three years.

what started out as a punishment for losing to a game of rock, paper, scissors gradually turned into a habit of waiting just to walk home together. life was silly that way.

"our streak is not streaking anymore."

a familiar voice entered your mind. you then remembered hearing his voice for the first time, back in freshman year, where everything felt new and exciting, with years ahead of you. presently, there was a bittersweet edge to it. each golden leaf that fell to the ground seemed to whisper that things were changing, and not just the seasons. college applications, farewells, the uncertainty of what would come next. it all hung in the cool autumn air.

"is this subtle foreshadowing? don't tell me.. you streak with someone else..."

your heart ached. not from what he said, but because this would be the last year you'd spend together like this, walking the same halls, sharing late-night study sessions, the same jokes. after graduation, your paths would diverge. it's inevitable, really.

suna brushed away a strand of hair stuck on your forehead. successfully snapping you out of your thoughts. successfully making the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

he took out a 500 yen coin from his pocket, and held it infront of you. "a penny for your thoughts?"

wanting to rid of the worry, you sighed. "it's nothing, i just started dwelling over the fact that we'll be graduating."

"if you're scared of graduating you could be a repeater." suna answers, trying to lighten the mood.

you gently hit his arm before proceeding to knock on the wooden bench. "that is so not a funny thing to say, rin!"

"alright, alright. jokes aside, there's nothing for you to be afraid of. you don't have to be alone, you know? i'm here for you." he proclaims while simultaneously soothing your back in a circular motion.

"how can you be so sure?" you mumbled, your forehead crinkling in the process.

"i know so," suna replies. giving you an assuring smile, pressing his thumb on your forehead. "trust me."

a smile spread across his face, and for a moment, everything else faded away. feeling a warmth spread through you, like the sun breaking through the clouds. you felt the warmth on your face.

it was in those smiles you saw the promise of what could be, the warmth of a friendship that felt so much deeper than just friendship.

"you're my best friend, what choice do i have?" you winced internally at your choice of words.

"what if i want more than that?"

your breathe hitched. words seemed to be stuck inside your throat. were you hearing him correctly? was this another faux flirtation? maybe this was your mind playing yet again its awful tricks on you—

"i really really like you. i like you a lot... for the longest time." suna adds, cradling your face ever so gently.

or maybe not. maybe it was never casual. maybe he does likes you.

"i like you too." you exclaim, your mouth had a mind of its own. then again, you were never one to hesitate when you're with him.

suna rintaro gave you a boyish grin. a grin that spread across his face like a ray of sunshine piercing through the gray clouds of your thoughts.

in that moment, it felt as if the world had stopped; everything faded into the background, and it was just him, glowing with pride and happiness. it was infectious, drawing you in, and you found yourself unable to resist smiling back.

he always had that effect on you, even on days when you felt heavy with unspoken fears. that grin had the power to chase away the clouds that hovered over you, if only for a moment.

each time he smiled or grinned at you, it was as if he were speaking a language only you could understand. a soft whisper of reassurance that told you everything would be okay, even when you felt like your world was crumbling.

in those fleeting moments, the weight of everything—college applications, impending goodbyes, and the uncertainty of your futures—seemed to lift. it was as if his smile casted a spell that made everything else go away.

a soft breeze rustled the leaves above you both, showering you with a sprinkle of gold.

the future is uncertain. yet, you chose to brace the unknown.

you laughed, caught off guard by the sudden flurry. “it’s like nature agrees!” you exclaimed, your heart dancing in tune with the fluttering leaves.

you made the decision to stop thinking of the uncertainties ahead. it comes soon enough.

“nature definitely approves of us,” suna said with a lovesick grin, shifting closer to you. your hands intertwined, fingers lacing perfectly together.

[local-lamppost]

Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

[skzhua]

Episode ten. (finale)

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 3k

warnings: Swearing, suggestive (like, a lot...), reader and Min Ho are clingy as hell.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: A short cute ending... I miss writing this series already. Thank you for the love for this one <3

You smiled at him and let him hold you. "I am okay, just a bit shaken up from it all."

He sighed in relief. "You do know I went to her first because I was scared she'd worsen the situation, right?"

You were about to respond but seeing Dae coming at light's speed right at Min Ho, you backed away in fear. Kitty was running after him, just as overwhelmed as you were. Your breathing quickened once Dae grabbed him by the collar before slamming him against the wall. He was smaller, but definitely strong enough to be able to hurt Min Ho.

"You call yourself my friend?" Dae said, anger taking over him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend you don't know!" he yelled, shaking Min Ho's body.

"What are you doing?" Min Ho said, acting unfazed by what was happening. "Let go."

His grip finally loosened as Kitty arrived. Min Ho quickly joined your side again, putting his frame in front of you in a protective way.

"Dae, stop it, it's not Min Ho." she begged him. "This has nothing to do with him."

He observed you and your boyfriend, his eyes blinking a few times as he tried to process his own actions. "I'm sorry. I thought you and Kitty-"

"And I think," Min Ho shouted, cutting his sentence off. "you two should have remained pen pals. I think we all think so, too. Including her."

He took your hand and rushed you out of the room. You sent a sad look to your two other friends before you walked out the door. Min Ho didn't say a word until you got to the dorm. You both changed clothes and sat in the kitchen in silence. As he prepared a night tea for you as he'd usually do, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. This was definitely not how you thought the end of the semester would look like.

"Min, can we-"

"Talk?" he said in a hard voice. "Haven't we done enough talking today?"

You huffed. "I was about to ask if we could just relax. You're tense."

He put the mugs down in front of you as a sarcastic chuckle left his mouth. "My apologies after feeling like shit when my best friend just told me he thought I had a thing for his girlfriend when I am obviously smitten with my own. And that my girlfriend might have thought for a second I cared more about the only person I've been hating for months than about her."

You said nothing in response. The shake in your grip as you brought the drink to your lips said everything to him. You were frightened, and not by anything. By him. He raised his voice at you for the first time, and you weren't even the problem.

"Hey." he said in a much gentler tone. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"I know."

You continued to drink quietly but he didn't take your answer as a good sign. He heard the slight worry in it and he hated the fact he caused it.

"I'm serious. I shouldn't have put all of my frustration on you, it's not fair."

You shook your head. "But you are right. I did worry for a second you cared more about her than me. It's stupid, I know. It's just..."

"Tell me, I won't judge."

You hesitated but eventually gained the courage to say it. "You're hot as hell when you act all heroic."

He spit his drink out before exploding in laughter. Meanwhile you started to whine and pout, shushing him from laughing at you.

"You promised you wouldn't judge." you cried out playfully.

"You're just too cute." he sneered at you. Walking around the counter, he stopped in front of you and brushed the hair off your face. "You wanted to be the one I saved and not Kitty?"

"No, I get why you did that because she was the one on fire and all. It's just you look handsome when playing the saviour."

He grinned and wrapped your legs around himself, helping you get a grip on him. "You want to be the damsel in distress that bad?"

"Yes." you admitted with a pout.

"Gosh, you look good when you're acting all innocent."

Getting a firmer grip on your thighs, he lifted you up which allowed you to be at his height. Licking his lips hungrily, he looked at you in a seductive way. You were glad he was holding you as it made your knees so weak just from the sight of him. Brushing your fingers through his dark locks, you attacked his lips. The tea long forgotten, he went immediately to his room and dropped you on the bed. Crawling on top of you, you took in his features with the little light you had. Even in the dark, he was breathtaking.

"Are you okay with this?"

You snorted. "As if this is the first time we've done something like this."

He shook his head. "I know but we might go further from here."

The tug you did on his shirt told him plenty. If you were that eager to take the clothes off him, you were eager for something else as well. He removed his upper clothing and leaned down to place soft kisses all over your face.

"I might go rough."

"I'm that hot?" you teased.

"Bloody fucking hot."

The front door opening only resulted to the both of you groaning in frustration.

"We really can't have a fucking break from them."

You laughed and gave him a kiss. "You're just sexually frustrated from being interrupted."

"And you're not?"

You giggled. "Cuddle up, I'm tired."

Though he would have liked to do something other than that, he complied and engulfed you in his warm body. You breathed in his smell and smiled to yourself. In all of what happened that day, you were just grateful to still have him by your side.

The morning was eventful. Kitty and Q were apparently mad at one another, Florian surpassed Dae in getting the best grades and you and Min Ho were nothing but depressed. He had told you he was going to Los Angeles to spend the holidays with his mother. You just didn't expect it to hurt as much. Still in bed, you played with his hair as he laid on your stomach.

"Baby, I can hear your heart and it's so fast." he mumbled.

"It's because I'm mad at you."

He sat up and moved to face you. "I'm leaving for a month at most, I'll be back before you know it." he reassured you as he stroke the skin of your sides softly.

"You're, like, the only good thing I have gotten out of this school. What am I going to do without you?"

"You're so dramatic, it's almost cute."

"Almost?"

He huffed. "Don't make me say it."

You laughed and brought his face to yours to kiss him. Your moment was cut short when you heard a groan from the other side of the room. Dae lazily got up and glanced at the two of you, both in shame and in embarrassment. While Min Ho brought the covers back on his upper body and turned his face away, you got out of his grasp and walked to Dae.

"Good morning."

"Hey." he said in a small voice.

"I know it's not really my place to tell, but you two care for each other a lot. I think it's the least of things to fix your problems before he leaves."

He let out an exhale and nodded. You gave him an encouraging smile before announcing to Min Ho that you were going to the other two flatmates.

You were sure to have heard Kitty's voice earlier so you didn't know why you only found Q in the living room.

"Hey, where is Kitty?"

He put his phone away and smiled sadly. "She got caught... for living with us."

You brought your hand to your mouth. "She's getting expelled, isn't she?"

"We don't know yet."

You sat with him and patted his back in comfort. As the door to the boys' room opened, you were at least glad to see them calm and amicable. Min Ho wasn't one to show his feelings much, so you knew they apologized and cleared things up.

"I'll need help packing." he said to you.

"Ask someone else, it'll just remind me you are leaving." you fake-cried.

"Stop being like this, come on." he nodded his head back to his room.

You shook your head. "Can we do something first?"

"What?"

Packing could wait. Instead, you offered him to go take some fresh air. You didn't care if you had no plan prepared whatsoever, you just wanted one last sweet moment with him before he left. You led him to a spot where a blooming tree stood with a bench next to it. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sighed as you reminisced the past months in this school.

"You're sad."

You let out a chuckle. "Thank you, Mr. Obvious."

"Don't be."

"Easier said than done."

He lifted you chin up and kissed your forehead gently. "We're not breaking up. I'm only going to see my mom... I miss her a lot."

You sniffed. "I know, and I'm glad you're going to spend time with her. I... I wish I didn't hate you so much before. So we could have had more time together, you know?"

He patted your head slightly before putting his hand on your cheek. "I think we hated each other for a reason. I know for a fact I hated how you presented yourself as that perfect girl who is too attractive for her own good."

You frowned. "Is it really how people see me?"

He laughed. "I can't say for others, but for me yes. And you just had to be that mesmerizing, it scared me."

You nodded your head slowly. "I see. And how was it a good thing for us?"

"It only drew me to you more. And before I knew it, I couldn't get you off my mind."

You melted at his words. "Me too."

"And, so," he continued. "that means you won't be out of my head when I'm away."

"Got it." you chuckled. "It still sucks."

"I know. We'll call, don't worry. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

"Can I do something real cheesy? You have no right to laugh at me, though."

As much as you hated it, he was right. You had nothing to worry about.

He grinned, expectedly. "What is it?"

You took the ring on your thumb off and asked for his pinky. You carefully placed it on it as it fitted perfectly. He let out an exhale at the gesture. With no hesitation, he took one of his own rings off and put it on your thumb as it was too big for your other fingers. He placed a soft kiss on it, earning a giggled from you.

"I love you."

Your eyes automatically got filled with tears. "Not more than I do."

So, with a heavy heart, you helped him pack his things. You made sure he brought with him a few of the polaroid pictures you took together and made him promise he'd show you off to anyone he met there.

"I'll go get my skincare products." he said after he pecked your lips.

You finished off by zipping up his luggage and it felt odd to see his side of the room almost empty. You had packed your own things as well since you'd be moving back with your uncle and aunt for the winter break. You brought everything by the front door and he was in awe at the sight.

"You're too sweet. I could have done that myself."

You took his hand. "It's helping me cope."

"Sure." he laughed. "I have to say bye to the others."

You knocked at their door and opened it to see them have a moment of their own, Q almost crying. You immediately went to hug Kitty yourself.

"You're really not coming back?"

"I'm afraid I'm not."

You could only tighten your hug from her words. "I'm really going to miss you."

Min Ho hand shook with Q. "Cheers, dude. I'll see you after the break."

You broke away from Kitty and hugged Q in his turn. "I better see you next semester."

"You will, for sure."

Min Ho pulled you back into his arm and rubbed your shoulder lovingly. "She's a bit emotional today."

You slapped him on his chest and he answered with a kiss on your head.

"We had a good run, Covey. Be good." he waved at her.

"Thanks, Min Ho."

With that, you both took your things and went outside to wait for your own car to come. This was it, a last moment before you could see him again in a month. You could keep away from each other, only able to say sweet words and goodbyes with a few kisses here and there. Your car was the first to arrive.

"Hop on, little pup."

You rolled your eyes. "Says the one who wanted us to stop with this."

"No, you were right. It's cute."

You smiled and kissed him one last time while your driver put everything in the trunk. "Text me when you get there? Just to let me know you, unfortunately, didn't crash."

He let out a scoff. "Alright, Park. Be petty."

He hugged you tightly before helping you get in the car. You waved him off as the chauffeur drove away from him.

You watched the trees pass by a few minutes later, finally getting used to the idea of him being away. The sudden pings from your phone were ignored at first, until they became too persistent. With annoyed groan, you opened your message app.

Dami: Hi, Y/N. I hope I have the right contact.

Dami: I am Min Ho's mother, Dami.

Dami: I'm sure he mentioned me, he sure mentioned you a lot to me.

Dami: I'd love to surprise my son when he gets here, if you are interested to participate.

Dami: Can I give you a call?

Although he was in first class, Min Ho hated travelling for hours. Getting close to no sleep, having to go through security at the airport, all of it were nothing but stressful. As he finally got his baggage back, he cheered himself up mentally with the thought of seeing his mother again. He kind of wished you were with him, to meet his mom properly.

To no surprise, the only recognizable person he saw was his mother's assistant. She bowed at him as a greeting before indicating for men, who he assumed were bodyguards, to get his things for him. He was disappointed she didn't come to get him herself, but he understood she was a public personality.

He was glad that the ride to where his mother lived was quick and efficient with close to little, even none, traffic. The gates of the mansion opened and he immediately spotted her standing at her porch, a smile spread on her face.

"Mom." he said as soon as he got out of the car.

"My boy! I'm so happy you got here safely." she exclaimed before hugging him tight. "Are you feeling tired?"

"A little bit, but I'm just happy to see you."

"Me too."

She led him inside and showed him the main rooms of the house before they sat in the living room. She offered him a refreshing drink before she installed herself comfortably.

"How was school? Did you do well?"

He nodded proudly. "Yes. I had excellent grades and I'd say I did better than last year."

"I'm glad." she said cheerfully. "You got along well with your friends? Made some more?" He nodded again happily. "And what about Y/N?"

He froze. "What about her?"

He hadn't gone in details about his relationship with her. Sure, he told her they were seeing each other but things got in the way and they were too busy for him to explain how things evolved.

"Are you in love?"

His face flushed as he got embarrassed. "Ah... I think I am."

She clapped her hands in excitement. "You could have invited her here, I would have love to meet her."

"I couldn't do that. She has her family back there. Plus, I could've scared her off by inviting her so far away after such a short amount of time being together."

She smiled sadly. "What a shame."

"Yeah..." he trailed off. He couldn't quite believe he already missed you. "It really is."

"So how come was I able to fly her here before you arrived?"

His head shot up from his mother's words. Looking around, and then looking back at her, he scoffed.

"Don't pull a joke like that!" he complained.

"She's not kidding."

He almost jumped from the sound of your voice coming from behind him. His brain malfunctioned as he looked back and forth from his mom to you.

"You little-" he cursed before chasing you.

You ran away as you exploded in laughter. Being smaller and weaker than him, he caught you in no time before spinning you around.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Surprise?"

He huffed and put you down. "You're crazy. You've got your family to spend the holidays with."

You shrugged. "A free trip to LA on a private jet to see my boyfriend sounded like a better deal. And don't worry, my aunt and uncle know I'm here."

He grinned like a child before pulling you into a long-lasting kiss, not even caring that his mom was in the same room. After you broke away, he led you to sit down with him.

"You were right, Min Ho. I love her." Dami squealed.

He smiled and then moved his eyes to stare back at yours. They glowed like never before and he couldn't believe how you were so mesmerizing to him.

"I love her, too."

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[bibliophilesince2003]

Oplita Oneshot

This is based off of Transformers One. I've been itching to write something wholesome, and I absolutely adore Optimus and Elita as a couple. Normally, I put my writing on Wattpad. Then again, those are usually full-length stories. It just made sense to do this particular oneshot here. Perhaps I'll do more oneshots of my favorite fandoms in the future.

So, yeah, this is for my fellow die-hard Oplita fans.

Also... this takes place after the ending of Transformers One, maybe a few months or so after the ending. Sorry, I'm not sure what a month is in cybertronian terms; Google was unhelpful. If you have not seen Transformers One in its entirety, this one shot may not be as impactful as it could be.

-

Optimus ducked as he walked past the door frame, mumbling to himself. His eyes were glued to the data disks in his hands; he had grabbed far too many. A few dropped to the ground. He bent to pick them up, but only lost more in the process. Optimus shook his head and resorted to sitting on the ground, spreading out the data. Now he could read them better, though some of the works and markings were faded and illegible. He grunted, his legs getting in the way. Being taller and bulkier had its advantages in battle, but he couldn't exactly crawl through vents like he used to. Bee had joked that perhaps the Matrix of Leadership had a "switch" for shrinking, but Elita said that size didn't matter. Then, she promptly added, stupidity was sure to remain.

He was glad he didn't intimidate her, even after becoming a prime. Her suggestion to "adapt" to sudden change was both firm and helpful, though harsh. Now, it settled deep in his spark, and he began to overthink. What if he didn't adapt? Would she think less of him?

A memory flashed through his mind, eliminating his worries about Eilta. He may have been dying, but he remembered catching a glimpse of Elita leaning towards the edge of the well when he fell. It was both shocking and endearing, but he was glad Bee yanked her back. It warmed his heart before pain overtook it, pain so great that it rendered him unconscious. He hadn't mentioned it to her, and he didn't think he ever would. It would be a secret to hold on to, at least for the time being.

Optimus was so engrossed in his work he didn't hear the automatic doors open. When footfalls finally reached his ears, Optimus scrambled and gathered up the data disks to the best of his ability. Elita and a few of her soldiers in training turned the corner and walked down the hall. Elita put her hands on her hips.

"And here is our leader, on the ground and sorting through old data disks like a desperate scavenger. Don't worry; he's tougher than he looks."

"That's reassuring," said one of the trainees; a pink and white female cybertronian.

Optimus cleared his throat, gave a lop-sided grin, and backed up. He dumped the data disks on a table and apologized, though it was mostly for Elita's sake. When he returned to the group, Elita gave him an amused look, but waved a hand in front of the trainees.

"This is Arcee, Smoke, and Cliffjumper. It's part of their training to visit the archives. A tactical warrior is just as powerful as a physically strong one."

"Wheeljack was part of your training program, wasn't he?" Optimus asked.

Elita rolled her eyes, and Cliffjumper answered for her, holding back a laugh. "He got bored."

"He joked about starting his own group; a group that didn't mind going the extreme," Smoke said.

He paused, then added to his statement. "Maybe it wasn't a joke."

"It definitely wasn't a joke," Arcee said.

"I'll have a talk with him later," Elita said, and Optimus nodded.

He stared at the wall just above their heads, lost in thought. Elita straightened.

"You ok?" she asked.

"What?" Optimus snapped out of it. "Oh, I'm fine."

Elita turned to address her trainees. "Meal break. Get your energon and look over some of the data this place has to offer that you think will benefit you. I want you at the station in a couple of hours; no sooner, no later. Got it?"

They nodded and obeyed; heading down the hall and turning the corner. Silence fell as their chattering grew distant.

"I said I was fine," Optimus said, attempting a laugh.

It sounded hollow.

"What's wrong, Pax?"

Optimus' shoulders dropped in surrender. When she called him that, he always felt inclined to answer, as if he were a miner under her command again. "Pax" or "Orion" would only come from her, though, and she never used it in front of others. He was to be Optimus Prime to everyone else; a title that carried authority and a great deal of weight. All cybertronian citizens were aware that their life could never be the same; many were expected to train. Really, he wasn't the only one experiencing change.

"I don't know if I can do this," Optimus blurted, clenching his fists.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Elita said.

"I'm a prime, but I've never led. I'm expected to fight in a war that hasn't begun but haunts the future. I think we both know Megatron will be back; he will want to take my place. Maybe he should."

Elita sighed and took Optimus' hand. "Come on."

Dazed, Optimus nodded. They walked down the hall and through various rooms. Neither of them let go, fingers tightly intertwined.

"Find a place where we can talk, Pax. I haven't broken in here like you have."

"Commander's orders," Optimus said, picking up the pace.

They entered a dimly lit, musky room. Elita coughed, letting go of Optimus' hand to wave her hand in front of her face. "Couldn't you have picked a better place?"

"The worst places are often the best places," Optimus said.

"Is this vagueness going to be regular thing, now? I hate it."

Optimus braced his back against a shelving unit, though it didn't contain very many data disks. With a grunt he gave a few hard shoves, and the shelving unit moved to reveal a broken door that led to a precarious platform overlooking Iacon.

"Is this how you would get in?" Elita asked, coming closer to observe.

"No; there were more dangerous entry points with small ventilation systems. I got stuck for a full twenty minutes, once."

"And to think... if you had just stayed there, we could have avoided all this chaos."

"What... and have Cybertron miss this charm?" Optimus motioned to himself.

Elita rolled her eyes, but Optimus caught a small smile. He backed up, letting her go first, and Elita stepped onto the platform and approached the edge. She leaned forward, and Optimus sucked in an inward breath, squeezing past the door frame. She sat at the edge, legs dangling. As soon as Optimus sat beside her, she spoke.

"You won't know how to lead."

Great. Another one of her "encouraging" pep talks. Elita turned her head and waited until Optimus locked eyes with her.

"What I mean is... leading can never be mastered," Elita said. "So, you need to act like you have it all figured out. Voice your fears with the ones you trust, but don't put them on public display. You're right; Megatron is out there somewhere, plotting your demise."

"I don't like the thought of preparing citizens for war," Optimus said.

"It has to be done. The few already capable fighters we have don't stand a chance."

"I know."

"We have to win," Elita said.

Silence fell. They could both agree on that. Elita put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are nothing like Megatron."

"I... try to envision him as he was. He was my greatest friend, Elita. And yet, anyone is capable of betrayal."

"You may doubt yourself, but I would never betray you. Even when I seemed your enemy, yelled at you, and -"

"Punched me in the face?" Optimus offered.

"Yes, even then, I never hated you. You were just... too ambitious and eager for my taste."

"Interesting," Optimus said, looking upwards in thought.

Elita laughed and knocked him in the shoulder, and Optimus gasped dramatically and fell, rolling closer to the edge of the platform.

"I thought you would stop punching me," Optimus groaned, finally sitting up when Elita's eyes widened, no doubt worried he might fall, or perhaps having PTSD of when he had, in fact, fallen.

"Oh, come on! That wasn't a punch," Elita said.

Optimus laughed and stood up, offering a hand. Elita took it, and he helped her up.

"What were you doing rifling through the data disks, anyway?"

"I'm trying to find what remains of Alpha Trion's wisdom. The Matrix of Leadership offers many surprises, but I'm without a mentor. I wish he were here."

"You have everything and everyone you need," Elita said.

Optimus dipped his head, and Elita placed her hands on either side of his face, lifting it back up. "I expect you to be on the training grounds this afternoon. Maybe you can convince Wheeljack to join the group."

"Would they listen to me?"

"You have an axe for a hand. How could they not?"

Optimus laughed, and Elita lowered her hands, nodding in satisfaction.

"Thanks, Elita."

"Any time, Pax."

[sporeclan]

Hellooooo! I’m working on a clangen blog of my own, so I’m going around asking my favorite clangen blogs some questions. I’m happy to get answers to whichever you feel like answering (or none at all if you don’t feel like it!)

What program and file size do you use?

If you use a font, what font is it?

How far ahead do you recommend playing?

Do you have any advice for layouts?

Do you have any tips for lighting/drawing fur?

Do you have any tips for making cats look more unique?

If you do backgrounds, do you have any advice for creating them?

If you use them, where do you recommend finding reference images?

Hi!! :D

1) I use Clip Studio Paint! Unfortunately not a free program, but I'm very very fond of it. Definitely recommend it to anyone who has the money! My file size is about 1680px wide, I believe? With varying heights. I definitely wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but it's what works for me so :')

2) I made the font myself, actually! Highly recommend doing that tbh, it's a happy medium between getting something handwritten looking without having to spend a thousand years writing haha :D There are probably a hundred websites out there that let you make you own font, but I used Calligraphr

3) It depends! For me playing to about 12-15 moons ahead with a minimum of 6 moons works really well with my style and workflow. Makes me able to cobble together these small interpersonal plotlines while also letting me occasionally play and get new drama to get invested in these characters all over again about. But if I were going for something with a major overarching plot, I would probably go a lot further ahead, if not straight up take the playthrough as far as I'd want it/until a game over just to not risk rng screwing with my plans

4) I would suggest looking up comic panelling tips in general for a better explaination than what I can offer, but I'll try to explain my basic process :'D I mostly go by heart, but I do like to sometimes follow this rule of thumb I like to call the 'Z'

When we read text, we learn to go from left to right, then back to left at a slight diagonal to get to the next line. By following that simple shape when placing characters and especially text, it makes it flow much more naturally to us. And when your pages flow well, you get to break that flow when you want a scene to feel more tense! I tried doing that with the last two panels of the page above and I really liked how that came out :D

Another couple of tips is 1) try not to make the panels too uniform 2) if you want to use two panels for one scene, slanting the side of a panel can make it feel like they flow into each other better, like matching two puzzle pieces if that makes sense 3) small overlapping panels are great for reaction shots and so fun to do!

And lastly, don't be afraid to break the panel border!

It can add a lot of momentum and impact if used right! Plus it's so fun to do <3

5) No sorry, I don't do lighting/shading in my comics at all :'D

6) I have a couple posts here and here describing my own process a bit! But otherwise I'd like to refer to whisper-cats' response to this same prompt, it's pretty in depth and I think they give some really solid advice here!

7) Not particularly, just find a style that works for you the best. I don't do a lot of backgrounding, but when I do, it's in this lineless limited palette style because that's just my favourite kind of background to make

I do highly recommend trying to limit how much time you spend on a background. Don't burn yourself out on one panel because then you'll never wanna finish the whole page!

And for 8), I dont use references so sadly I can't give you any good recommendations there either :')

I hope any of this made sense, lol! Good luck with your blog!

[cripplecharacters]

I’m working on a robot character, and I wanted to know if it’s at all inappropriate to have the character (named Blip, uses he/it pronouns) have the “robot equivalent” of a traumatic brain injury and acquired facial differences, if that makes sense?

As it’s planned right now, he has one broken “eye” (kind of a camera lens) that no longer processes visual input, a damaged antenna and internal processor that sometimes misreads incoming signals leading to confusion, and a staticky slur to his speech (its voice would otherwise sound like a generic Siri-type thing, but it occasionally breaks into static). It also has visible damage to the side of its face with the broken eye. (Not a dented-in head, though, because I have a feeling that would conjure up ableist caricatures of brain injuries and I want to avoid that).

I just want to check if any of that sounds offensive, or if you have input on how to represent these features better. Thank you!

Hey! I'll answer for the part related to the facial difference and leave the brain injury to other mods.

Honestly this sounds fine to me. Just on the basis of this being a robot character named Blip, which seems quite silly (positive) and I enjoy seeing characters with FDs who aren't dead-serious and joyless all the time. The fact that he's not human (or even too humanoid, from the description) also helps since a lot of the negative tropes specifically affect how real humans are seen, if you're portraying an anthropomorphized computer then that's just very different. I don't think anyone would see a real person without an eye and think of a robot which avoids the entire "ableds think it's normal to compare a burn survivor they saw in the grocery store to Freddy Krueger" problem, even if you do end up falling into a trope with this character.

Definitely a good call in avoiding the indented skull* since the way it's generally used is a caricature and a borderline dogwhistle at this point. If you want to show that there was some sort of injury on the side of Blip's head, you could give him a different colored-metal plate there (or whatever else it's made out of), or give it a shiny texture to contrast with the rest of him being matte, make the damaged part thicker, etc. If his eye was damaged and is camera-like, you could have the shutter not close, or not move, or otherwise work differently from the other one (that's how my own ptosis would translate into a robot character... I think).

*Craniotomy, craniectomy, congenital cranial conditions, these are all real things that real people have and live with, so this isn't to say that this is always a no-go, because it's not. However, one needs to be very careful and sensitive to represent it respectfully due to what I originally mentioned. I'd strongly advise going with a sensitivity reader if that's something anyone reading this would want to include in their writing or art, and this aspect should be taken under consideration from the starting concept of the character.

For last advice, I'd try to not describe him "broken" as a whole if you're trying to represent him as disabled, since the whole "disabled people are broken". Not that it's wrong to refer to a body part like a leg or an eye as broken if one wants to do that; I mean referring like that to the entire person (or robot). I mention it since it's a common thing when it comes to robot fiction etc. but might come off weird in the context of an obviously disabled one.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Hello,

As the human brain is basically a computer and our brain injuries are basically damage to that computer that changes how to computer functions, having a robot character with a TBI is a fairly easy thing to do. Damage to a human's sensory cortex (part of the cerebrum, one of three main parts of the brain) can cause sensory symptoms like the ones you're describing. This damage would be in his equivalent of the parietal lobe, which uses the information provided by external senses to navigate and have spacial sense, the temporal lobe, which has the auditory cortex and also helps with processing visual input and doing things like speech and reading, or the optical lobe, which is responsible for visual processing. If you'd like your character to have a more human brain in structure, you can look into other abilities that might be affected. But you can also just design his brain however you want it to be designed and that works, too, since he has a reason for his brain not being accurate to a human's brain.

Slurred speech is definitely a symptom that can come of a traumatic brain injury, especially a brain injury to the temporal lobe, and what he has also kind of sounds like a stutter or maybe him trailing off, which can also be issues we get.

And yes, I agree with Sasza about the dented head, definitely a good thing to avoid. If you want, you could incorporate a metal plate implanted on his "skull," which is a medical treatment for certain types of skull injuries to prevent complications and also to give the skull a more normal shape, which is called a cranioplasty.

Everything sounds good on the traumatic brain injury front

Mod Aaron

[yurikosinterlude]

hi 💓💓

can you write a drabble of megumi fushiguro and the reader enemies to lovers??

cw: {enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, kind of spicy (?)} wc: 700

megumi fushiguro hated your guts. it wasn't really unlike him to feel this way towards people, it seemed he hated everyone except for his friends (yuji is debatable). megumi's hatred for you, though, was...different. he couldn't get you out of his mind, he'd stay awake at night because even the mere thought of you made him so upset that he couldn't sleep.

you were perfect. perfect from your grades to your cursed technique, so in your mind, it was natural for megumi to be intimidated by you.

you decided to use this intimidation to your advantage, teasing and pushing every button that megumi had, and then putting on your usual innocent act when confronted by him.

megumi was at his limit. he had grown sick of your little games. you thought you were so funny, didn't you? you probably thought that capitalizing on his aversion towards you would make him crack, but this only fueled every negative feeling he had towards you. he was gonna find out every little thing that made you tick.

from that point on, megumi was silent around you, but he stared at you like a wolf ready to tear apart his prey. this was when he noticed things about you differently, the way your hair always looked perfect, like you had spent hours on it in the morning, the way your eyes looked in the afternoon sunlight, even the way your nosed scrunched up when you laughed.

but he had to focus on the task at hand, he had to get you to be the one to crumble, he had to see you defenseless and at his mercy. how he would do this, he didn't know.

it was a sunny afternoon, a cool breeze complimenting the sight of trees filled with orange and red leaves, and the smell of pumpkin spice flooding the classroom. you stayed inside while everyone else played in the leaves, doodling trees and different plants you saw from the open window by your seat at the front of the classroom. you didn't even notice megumi walk in with a slight devilish grin plastered on his face.

megumi had finally figured out how to push your buttons, he was gonna start by 'accidentally' spilling a hot latte over your sketchbook. (he couldn't think of any better ideas) you finally notice megumi walking towards you, a cup from the café across the street in his hand.

"is that for me?" you ask, taking out one airpod from your ear. "how sweet of you!" before he can even attempt to tilt the cup over your drawings, you take the cup out of his hands, and start to sip the coffee little by little. "so what did you come to talk to me about?" you ask, taking out your other airpod. "I-uh..huh?" megumi stammers, did he want to talk to you about something? if he did, he definitely forgot. "actually, I have something to say first." you say, turning your gaze to the black loafers you wear with your school uniform.

"I..I like you megumi. I have for a long time, and I know you have some like one sided beef with me, but I just want you to know that I don't feel negatively towards you at all.."

what. now this definitely wasn't what megumi was expecting at all. he stands there, in shock, unable to form sentences. "I- er- um.."

"oh my gosh, do I have to do everything?" suddenly, you take megumi's face and smash your lips onto his, spilling the latte all over the classroom floor. the taste of pumpkin spice and cinnamon still decorating your soft, plush lips.

just as megumi is about lift his hands up to your hair, you abrputly end the kiss. "I-I'm sorry" you say, picking up your books and bolting out of the classroom. megumi stands there, still frozen, attempting to process whatever the hell just happened.

just then a voice breaks the silence, "what..was that..?" it was yuji, nobara right next to him, both in almost as much shock as megumi.

"I...I don't know..."

.

.

.

a/n: HI GUYS! I'm fairly new to drabbles, so sorry if this is really long for a drabble (╥_╥)

yurikosinterlude ©️ 2024 ❁ pls don't plagiarize, copy, repost, or translate my works at all ❁ (or atleast without creds :3)

[choerypetal]

Love at first Sight / Steve Harrington x Winchester!Sister

Summary: The reader, as the younger sister of the Winchesters, moves to Hawkins to investigate a hunt after losing contact with their father, John. Unbeknownst to them, Hawkins harbors dark secrets, particularly when a certain boy rescues them from the monsters.

ps: This is my longest story to date, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it just as much! Since English isn't my first language, I apologize for any minor grammar errors.

word count; 6ks.

tag list ; @figurantedefilme

“Father, hasn’t come back.” 

Dean’s words reiterate in your mind as you sat in the passenger seat. Sam, your twin, understood the potential consequences of bringing you along. You vividly recalled his argument about the test you had the next morning, how he had done everything possible to support your decision not to get involved. The thought of dragging their little sister, on the brink of graduating high school, into family matters made him troubled. "And where exactly is the location?" he asked, struggling to conceal his irritation while casting worried glances in your direction. 

Dean understood he had no alternative. If given the opportunity, there was no doubt he would have ventured alone. However, giving John's unequivocal instructions left no room for debate on the matter. When family, particularly your father, was concerned, it was imperative for everyone to participate, regardless of their preferences. Dean's grasp on the steering wheel tightened as he disclosed the destination you were bound for.

 “Hawkins.” 

Hawkins was nothing like Kansas. After an eight-hour drive with multiple stops, your brothers took turns at the wheel. For once, you all agreed that your father should be immensely grateful when you finally rescued him, especially given the uncertainty about where to start. It wasn't until you checked into a motel near Hawkins that the research on the haunting began in earnest.

Dean had gone to buy some food while Sam and you continued your search. The sun had set, giving way to the shimmering stars of the night. One of the things you couldn't help but admire about Hawkins was the luminous presence of its own scenery. You were stargazing from your motel window when you heard the door creak open and Sam's voice, poised to relay any information about your father's whereabouts. But it was Dean who spoke first, interrupting Sam's rambling about anything he could find useful. "So, you're telling me there are no official records, just a stupid student article about the incident that happened, what, a year ago? When it all started with a boy going missing?"

"Maybe we should ask for the chief," you suggested, recalling the man around your father's age whom your brothers had seen at the gas station an hour earlier. One who could definitely be a source of information. However, your brothers dismissed the notion, unwilling to involve others. "No, no, no," Dean said, pulling food from the plastic bag and placing it on the table. Sam, still engrossed in his laptop, grabbed the first item his hand found. "The one thing we definitely can't do is involve the cops, especially the sheriff."

And he was right, much as you hated to admit it. Dealing with the cops had never been your brother's strongest suits. Recalling numerous arrests, all tied to their hunting activities, with your father or Bobby often being the one to bail them out.

"I think I found something," Sam said, capturing your attention. Dean snatching the laptop from him, causing Sam to roll his eyes and start munching on his sandwich. "Demogorgon, really?" Dean said, almost offended by the article. What struck him, though, was how off the situation felt with the missing boy and the lab in Hawkins.

"I don't know, man. Don't look at me like that. Just read further," Sam insisted as Dean tried to process the information. Despite their extensive hunting experience, from Wendigo's to the King of Hell, Dean was on the verge of dismissing the student article entirely. This seemed like a stretch even for them.

"And you're telling me Dad went missing because of a half-man, half-creature that feeds on human powers?" Dean asked incredulously. Sam chuckled at his brother's disbelief and nodded. "That's what the article says," he confirmed, though Dean remained unconvinced. He needed more evidence, which meant by morning they will have to start questioning anyone around Hawkins. "Tomorrow, first thing. If the rumors are true, and as much as I hate to admit. Dad might be the creature's next snack anytime soon."

The next morning in Hawkins, you and your brothers headed to the nearest diner. Unlike other places you'd visited, Hawkins had a surprising calmness to it. You were particularly excited to visit the DVD store that had caught your eye, likely the only other place of interest besides the arcade. You always made a point to bring something back from each mission—a habit your brothers found odd yet endearing.

"Please," you begged Dean as the three of you walked into the diner. He rolled his eyes as you all sat down and ordered the usual breakfast: two coffees and an orange juice for you. "What do you even need at a DVD store?" he asked. "Maybe it could also be a good excuse for you and Sam to investigate," you replied with a hint of amusement. Your brothers exchanged a glance and thanked the waitress as she brought the food. "She isn't wrong, you know," Sam agreed, seeing the potential in the idea. "And if it makes Y/N feel at home..." 

"Fine," Dean finally conceded with a sigh. "But after that, we're heading to the trailer park." He insisted, knowing it was one of the areas where the creature had reportedly lingered and the last place your father was apparently seen.

"Robin, I told you, the last time I flirted with a woman, I couldn't even avoid making her cringe," Steve sighed as he brought the DVD tray to restock returns. Behind the counter, Robin mentally tallied her best friend's countless failures, a smile playing on her lips. “I call dibs on the next client.” As she noticed three silhouettes entering the store, her attention shifted entirely to them. "Welcome!" she greeted them, her tone ambiguous enough to make it unclear whether she enjoyed her job or not. "May I help you?"

Your brother wore an expression of determination. Sam, ever the polite one, smiled first and quickly refocused on their primary mission: finding your father. "We just need a few pieces of information," he said, presenting their fake FBI cards. You leaned forward, peeking between your brothers. Immediately catching Steve's attention. Outside, Max and Billy, being new in town, added to the unusual sight of newcomers, especially at this time of year. Steve couldn't help but admire this in awe. "I'll go look for a souvenir. Don't wait for me," you said, glancing at them one last time before heading off. 

"Alright, Chipmunk, just don't take long," Dean replied, prompting you to roll your eyes. Steve noted the nickname, remembering it all too well. As you made your way toward the shelves of tapes, Steve remained with your brothers, soon summoned by Robin.

"It's about their father," Robin had filled Steve in on the situation. Wherever their father was, it didn't sound promising, especially with everything happening—the Demogorgon, Vecna—anything could be connected. Observing Dean's expression shift from annoyance to complete shock, as Sam realized that dismissing the student article might have been their first mistake.

"So... you're saying you fought one of them?" Sam directed his question to Steve. Usually, Steve couldn't resist a bit of ego-boosting, but the serious expression on Dean's face and his repeated glances in your direction, ensuring you wouldn't make a mess, made Steve reconsider. Perhaps setting aside the flirting was the wisest choice. Thus, he simply nodded. "Yes, thanks to Dustin, who obtained the information initially. Even the police are clueless about what's truly occurring."

The Winchester brothers exchanged glances. "Dustin?" they asked simultaneously. Steve nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and not just Dustin. We also have El, who possesses superpowers. She's been instrumental, but given your father's disappearance, someone would have found his body by now or—" Steve hesitated, unwilling to entertain darker possibilities, especially after their experience in the Upside Down. He shared a concerned look with Robin, who shrugged, considering various scenarios. "Wait—let me just process all of this," Dean interjected, taking a step back. Robin offered him a seat at the counter, which he gratefully accepted as he attempted to piece everything together.

"So, let me get this straight: first, this kid Will goes missing, then you guys run into some Demo-whatever-the-hell-it's-called, and now there's this girl with random powers who was held captive in a lab by some Vecna creep?" Dean recalled how vague his father had been on the phone the previous night, mentioning he'd be at some sort of lab. The thought worried him, prompting Sam to give his brother a concerned look. "Are you okay?" Sam inquired. Dean hummed a yes and locked eyes with Steve, who swallowed nervously. Despite only meeting briefly that day, something about your older brother made Steve fidgety. Dean paused momentarily, then retrieved an article from his back pocket and placed it on the counter. Steve immediately recognized Nancy's handwriting.

"Not to sound arrogant, but that's your source?" Steve gestured towards the paper, blinking twice. While Nancy's article was informative, she had to simplify and spice it up to attract readers for her publication, not to mention keep the whole Upside Down ordeal a secret. Steve distinctly recalled her mentioning that. However, he hadn't anticipated it would attract a group of hunters brandishing fake FBI badges. Despite his reservations, he refrained from commenting on it. "Also," he added, indicating their badges, "this whole fake badge charade doesn't fool us. We've already dealt with the Russians trying that stunt," he remarked smugly. Just as you arrived with a stack of DVDs, you couldn't help but laugh. "See? I told you those FBI badges were outdated."

Sam's lips curved into a playful smile as he observed your reaction. Despite disliking that you were traveling with them and missing out on a normal life outside of hunting, it was gratifying to see you interacting with people your age. Your formal demeanor while conversing with Steve, who nodded in response to your comment, was refreshing, as were the small interactions you shared with Robin. "Cash?" Steve inquired next, prompting an eager nod from you as Dean stepped in to pay. "But I have enough!" you protested, pouting adorably—a sight that Steve found strangely endearing. He snapped back to reality as your brother impatiently waited for him to retrieve the cash. "Want-Want the receipt?" Steve asked stuttering slightly, to which your brother shook his head. As the three of you prepared to leave the store, thanking the two employees one last time, Dean paused, causing Sam and you to exchange a curious glance. Dean clearly had something in mind.

"Can we arrange a meeting spot?" he inquired. Steve and Robin shared a glance, aware that the next day they would be assisting Dustin in searching for his friend Eddie. It appeared to be an ideal opportunity, particularly since your brothers intended to explore Hawkins' forest as well. "Skull Rock?" the younger boy proposed. Neither your brothers nor you were aware that you would have more company than anticipated. Dean hesitated, but upon seeing your radiant expression as you held the stack of DVDs you had purchased, you spoke up on their behalf before he could respond. "We'll be there!"

Steve's prediction proved accurate. The following morning arrived, and he remained uncertain whether you would indeed appear, let alone bring your brothers along. The previous night, after interviewing numerous locals, you had practically pleaded with them to join, convinced it was an excellent idea. Considering your father's tendencies, initiating the search in the forest seemed logical. "If this is because of that Steve boy again," Dean interjected with disdain evident in his tone, prompting you to roll your eyes. "It has nothing to do with him! Besides, he's taken down one of these creatures before. I'd sooner trust a DVD seller than a random sheriff at this point." You made a valid argument, and upon witnessing the resolve in your expression, Sam concurred, "She's got a point." With a sigh, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before starting the engine without another word and directing the car toward Skull Rock.

"So who are we waiting for exactly?" Dustin inquired impatiently, observing Steve's restless pacing. "And what's with the sudden nerves?" Robin teased with a smirk. "It's Y/N." "Y/N?" Steve spoke your name, almost offended. "Oh, so you know her name?" Robin enjoyed Steve's irritation and couldn't resist teasing him further. "She mentioned it before they departed, in case you were paying attention, lover boy."

"They?" Dustin regarded the two adults before him, clearly perplexed by the situation and the strangers they had involved. "Her father vanished, and her brothers, who are apparently hunters, were dispatched here. We're just hoping we don't stumble upon their father's lifeless body along the way," Steve explained. He hadn't intended to sound so severe, but his nerves had taken over, leading him to adopt a touch of sarcasm. His confidence faltered as he heard your brother's voice drawing nearer. "Y/N, this is nonsense. We should've contacted Castiel."

"Yes, but remember, Castiel's at the hospital right now. He needs the rest," you reminded them, recalling the events of the last hunt. "Come on, grumpy old man," you added, grabbing Dean's arm, eliciting a whine from him, while Sam chuckled, enjoying the moment. As your eyes met Robin’s, you waved at her. "Robin!"

Robin was the first to notice your arrival and approached you with a hug. You were introduced to Dustin, whom they described as the clever one, and who had some knowledge about the creatures and your father's potential whereabouts. Lucky for him, he had mentioned about seeing a man whose description bore a striking resemblance to your father's, which he promptly relayed to Dean. "So, that's how you stumbled upon this entire Russian trap?" you inquired. They all nodded in agreement, but their conversation was interrupted as Eddie emerged from his hiding spot, causing you to startle slightly.

"Dustin, you rascal," Eddie's voice reverberated in your thoughts. Amidst the chaos of your missing father and the onslaught of curses from Max and Eddie, whom you had only just met, Eddie extended his hand to shake yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as he flashed a smile. "Haven't seen you around before, sweets," he remarked, managing to find humor in the situation despite its gravity, prompting a slight cringe from Steve, who had been the first to encounter you. Yet, you couldn't deny that Eddie exuded a certain charm of his own. "We've been sent on a mission. My father disappeared around here a few days ago, and my brothers, who are hunters, insisted I come," you explained, introducing Dean and Sam to everyone present, including Lucas, Max, and Nancy, all of whom reciprocated with their own introductions.

"And I assume you're familiar with me," the metalhead sighed at his presence, wishing for a more auspicious introduction. You shook your head, seeking confirmation from Robin and then Steve. "Eddie," Steve answered, somewhat irritated. "The 'supposed boy' who was involved in the cheerleader's death?" your brother recited from a news article. But quickly flinched and groaned in discomfort as you took the crumpled article and hit it against his chest. "Good Lord, Y/N, what was that for?" he protested as you gave him a knowing glance. 

"Do you get a serial killer vibe from him?" you questioned, coming to Eddie's defense. “It’s alright, Y/N, there’s no need…” Observing the unfolding scene, Steve couldn't help but wish he were in Eddie's position, but circumstances had changed since your meeting with him the day before. Determined to contribute, he spoke up. "Shouldn't we be, you know, taking action instead of just standing around? Especially for their father, Dustin, and everything?" 

Dustin briefly glanced at Steve, recognizing that familiar look of jealousy. First, it was with Nancy, and now it seemed directed toward a complete stranger. Amused, Dustin couldn't resist teasing him and feigned ignorance, only serving to make Steve's jealousy even more evident. Meanwhile, you were completely absorbed in Eddie's presence, oblivious to Steve's inner turmoil. Dean, always the vigilant brother, interjected, "Come on, lover boy, no time to waste," playfully tousling your hair as he noticed Steve's uneasy glance. You muttered a few choice words before smoothing down your hair. It was endearing to witness the two men vying for your attention, but it also put Dean, the protective brother, on edge. "Sammy?" he called out, turning to Sam, who was already assisting Dustin in plotting the next course of action. "Ready?"

You, on the other hand, gave a final glance to Eddie, who appeared ready. "Lead the way, sweetheart," you encouraged. The walk proved lengthier than anticipated, and as the sun began to set, the sky revealed the first twinkling stars, a sight you never failed to appreciate. Steve made a point to remain by your side throughout. "Look!" you exclaimed, prompting Steve to recall the way your smile lit up your face. Your observation caused everyone, including your brothers, to pause in their tracks. "The stars seem larger tonight," you remarked in awe. "Are you a fan of astrology?" Eddie inquired, leaning closer to you, and you turned to regard him. "And you?" you countered. He shrugged. "Not particularly, but now that you mention it, Hawkins nights do hold a certain allure, don't they, Steve?"

"Indeed," Steve responded, the faint edge of irritation apparent in his tone. Eddie noticed, recognizing the signs of infatuation, and chose not to press the matter further. "Perhaps," he suggested, "rather than discussing stars, we should direct our attention to..."

An interruption broke the silence—a familiar screech that caused Dustin to halt abruptly, prompting everyone to freeze in place. He listened intently, ensuring it wasn't merely his imagination. "Do you all hear that?" he whispered, the sound growing louder. Your brothers remained nearby, while Steve stood steadfastly by your side. You could have sworn you felt his fingers graze yours, prompting you, out of habit, to reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. In that moment, he was your knight in shining armor.

Dean swiftly seized the flashlight, his actions quickened by a piercing scream resonating through the air. As you turned to confront the creature lurking in the shadows, a chill of fear gripped you, compounded by the sight of blood dripping from its jaw. Paralyzed, you sensed its menacing presence drawing nearer with each passing second. In the blink of an eye, it lunged towards you. "Y/N!" Steve's urgent voice reverberated in your mind as Dean barked orders at Sam to take the first shot. Yet, the gunfire proved futile against the relentless creature. "Steve!" Robin's frantic shout pierced through the chaos as she tossed him the bat. Everything unfolded too swiftly to comprehend.

Overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the creature, you found your knees giving way, sending you tumbling to the ground. In a swift response, Eddie rushed to your side, offering reassurance in a soothing tone. "It's alright, it's gone," he repeated, his words a steady anchor amidst the chaos. With trembling hands, you instinctively shielded your face, attempting to suppress the rising tide of screams threatening to escape.

Unbeknownst to the group, your father had been silently observing from the shadows all along. With keen interest, he monitored the actions of his two sons and daughter, though the sight of you among them caught him off guard. This situation served as a test, one that Dean might soon recall—it was designed to assess whether the two boys were prepared to tackle cases beyond their usual scope. However, your involvement was an unexpected twist, not part of the original plan. Little did John know, another version of himself had been lurking much closer than anticipated.

Sam was the first to discern John's presence. His disbelief was palpable, tinged with a hint of revulsion at the sight of his father seemingly unscathed, contrary to the myriad theories the three Winchesters had fervently debated in recent days. "Dad? Dad?" Dean's puzzled expression mirrored Sam's confusion, just as Steve swiftly dispatched the Demogorgon with a well-timed blow. 

"Boys," John greeted with a smile that felt forced. Max, sensing an underlying unease, found herself growing suspicious. Though not intimately acquainted with the Winchesters' father, her own encounters with flayed individuals had honed her instincts. "Guys," she interjected, attempting to capture Steve's attention, "I have my doubts about him." Steve, casting a brief glance at Hargrove, immediately redirected his focus upon hearing your faint cries, ensuring your well-being as he knelt beside Eddie. Meanwhile, your brothers stood frozen in astonishment at the sight of their impostor father.

"Dean?" Max's voice reverberated in your brother's mind, prompting him to turn towards her. "Yes?" he replied, noting the concern etched on her features. An instinctual feeling swept over him, suggesting that the figure before them wasn't their father. With Sam in close proximity, Dean couldn't resist beckoning him over, yet there was no response. "I don't believe it's your father," Max murmured softly, her words carrying a weight of conviction. "And what leads you to that conclusion?" Dean inquired, though inwardly he harbored similar suspicions. Despite clinging to a glimmer of hope, he remained open to Max's insight. "Do you notice any discrepancies?" Bingo. Dean scrutinized the man masquerading as their father, discerning subtle nuances in his smile, his gaze, and the feigned affection. It became increasingly apparent that whatever entity had taken control was failing miserably at replicating their father's mannerisms.

"I'm relieved to find you all here. I was growing concerned," the voice emanated, its tone unsettling. Max's intuition proved correct. Sensing trouble, Sam moved closer while Dean hastened towards him, their actions synchronized with the abrupt sound of another gunshot. The bullet found its mark, striking the impostor masquerading as John. A sickly green fluid oozed from his mouth, portending imminent danger. His once-human eyes now glowed an eerie white. In a stroke of luck, John had managed to discharge a bullet into his counterfeit form. Sam's eyes widened in horror as he cried out for his father.

Dean's grip tightened on his firearm, grappling with the uncertainty of the situation, questioning the authenticity of the figure before him. John's eyes met yours, a silent challenge conveyed through his gaze. Despite the tension, you managed to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of the moment. With Steve's presence lending you reassurance, you stood your ground, determined to maintain composure amidst the uncertainty.

"Bringing Y/N along, really?" Your father's tone dripped with a mix of disgust and shame, causing Sam to sense the weight of the situation. Understanding the pressure you were under, he rose to stand by your side. Meanwhile, Eddie and Steve, recognizing the need for composure, subtly suggested maintaining distance, hinting at the gravity of family matters. Despite their advice, you clung to their shirts, silently pleading for their support. "Please," your eyes implored. Thus, you, Sam, Eddie, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Robin, and Nancy maintained a respectful distance, observing the unfolding events.

Dean harbored discontent towards his father's stance on involving you in the discussion. While it had been acknowledged that reaching a certain age would inevitably draw you into the hunting lifestyle, akin to Sam's trajectory, Dean remained disheartened by the prospect. He often cited Sam's own journey, pointing out how it led him to abandon Stanford and commit to hunting full-time. Unlike Dean, Sam advocated for a conventional life for you, one filled with relationships and camaraderie. The time spent in Hawkins only solidified this perspective for you. "She's prepared," Dean asserted, though John's skepticism was evident.

"Y/N, return to the car," your father's voice rang out, commanding attention as all eyes turned towards where you knelt, shaking your head in defiance. "I said, return to the vehicle," he reiterated, employing the same authoritative tone he used on Sam during the vampire hunt. Just as you were about to interject, Sam's figure materialized beside you. Sensing the escalating tension, Steve cautiously ushered Eddie away, allowing space for Sam to intervene.

 He knelt beside you, meeting your gaze with familiarity, recognizing the turmoil reflected in your eyes—a familiar sight during conflicts between your father and himself. Understanding the need to address the situation decisively, not only for his own sake but for yours as well, he inquired, "Do you want me to speak to him, instead?"

A silent sob and a nod conveyed everything. "No, Dad," Sam's voice, grave and resonant, shattered the stillness. He reserved that tone for moments of utmost gravity. Dean attempted to interject, "Sam!" but his words fell on deaf ears; Sam had already approached their father. "She's not prepared," Sam asserted, his gaze penetrating the darkness of the night. Towering slightly over their father, he leaned in, exuding an air of palpable tension. "You are the reason she departed in the first place. In any case."

"What did you just say?" John's voice carried the weight of authority, now laced with a menacing undertone aimed at both his son and daughter for their insubordination. "You heard me," Sam retorted unwaveringly, his gaze hovering dangerously close to his father's collar, poised for confrontation. Yet, he refrained from physical action, mindful of the precarious situation in Hawkins. The tension between the two men simmered, with Dean positioned between them, striving to defuse the escalating conflict. "Yes, you left when your brother and I needed you. You chose her over us! Sam! You—"

"And let's not forget, Dad, you're the one who said, 'Don't come back.' You slammed that door shut on her, not me! You were just angry because you couldn't control her anymore!" Dean interjected, seizing his brother's collar to preempt any potential altercation. John, their father, fixed his gaze on you. Sam's accusation hit home. Despite your love for him, the scars from his domineering nature and the dangers of the hunt still haunted you. Was it all to prove a point about strength? Even now, the memories of that day haunted your dreams. 

"We're all exhausted," Dean interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Now that we've found you, maybe we can head back to the motel." Sam's expression betrayed his reluctance, but it seemed like the most prudent course of action. With their father located, the Winchesters knew their business in Hawkins was concluded. However, your intentions were different. You had someone else in mind: Steve.

Steve observed the scene with mounting fury. The family conflict played out before him, and seeing you curled up, trying to hide your distress, fueled his anger. He was furious at your father for forcing you into a life you hadn't chosen, for making you feel trapped by the family legacy. Watching your brother stand up for you only deepened his ire. Later that night, while your brothers tried to calm your father. From how you would see him gently caressed your cheek, wiping away any lingering tears, and let you collapse into his arms. Murmuring soothing words such as, "Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’m here." And he meant it. He stayed with you all night, knowing that by tomorrow, you might be gone. Or so he thought.

The following night, you faintly recalled your brothers arguing, their voices rising until they stepped outside to avoid waking you. The hunt had left you drained, but your father's harsh words lingered in your mind. With your eyes closed, feigning sleep, you heard the front door of the motel room creak open. Your father entered and knelt beside you, gently brushing the hair from your face. The look on his face, one you couldn't forget, made you wonder if Sam had managed to get through to him. "I am so sorry..." he murmured softly.

His voice was hoarse from crying. Whatever they had discussed was more significant than you had imagined, affecting not just you but Sam as well. As his twin, you had always stood by his side, through thick and thin. Your father, recognizing this bond, finally broke the silence, "If you want to go to college," he said, his voice laden with emotion, "then you can. I love you."

He hadn't wanted to wake you, but his genuine words stirred you. You couldn't help but lean in and wrap your arm around his waist just as he was about to leave. Initially thinking you were asleep, his eyes widened in surprise, then softened as he smiled and returned your embrace. When your brothers returned with food, Sam smiled but refrained from teasing, not wanting to embarrass you. "Dinner?" he asked simply, the warmth of the moment lingering in the air.

Your father glanced at you as you wiped away the last of your dried tears. Nodding, you joined the three men at the dinner table. As you ate, your thoughts drifted to Steve and the longing to see him one last time. "I know we're leaving tomorrow, but..." you began, cheeks flushing. Dean, catching on immediately, spoke through a mouthful of sandwich, "The lover boy?" He raised an eyebrow. Both Sam and your father chuckled, with your father raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Who?" he asked, though he clearly knew. "Steve," you murmured, so softly that your family made you repeat it. "Who?" they echoed, smirking. "Steve! Alright, jeez. Anyway, I have to return my DVDs anyway."

Dean rolled his eyes, even though he was notoriously inept when it came to romance. Seeing you with someone, especially someone like Steve, was undeniably endearing. He knew Steve was a good guy—after all, he had helped a complete stranger in the woods, which had led to more than just uncovering their father's disappearance. Now they knew their dad had been flayed. While Dean hated the idea of leaving so soon, he understood that helping Hawkins was necessary. And if it meant you could spend a little more time with Steve, he didn’t mind at all. "You know," he said in a suggestive tone, "I talked with this Dustin kid..."

You met your brother's gaze, eyebrows furrowed, sensing he was onto something significant. "Spill," Sam demanded.

"Well, I also talked to Dad," Dean began. "We discovered something more sinister lurking beneath Hawkins. They need all the help they can get, so I offered our assistance. We’ll be staying a few days to start our search." Your eyes widened in shock and joy as you processed your brother's words. This meant you might be staying for weeks, even months, given the seriousness of the Upside Down situation. And it also meant more time with Steve. “So, we’re staying?” you asked, excitement evident in your voice. Dean nodded with a smile, ruffling your hair. "Don't get too excited, Chipmunk. But yes, and Dad is joining in."

You couldn't be more grateful, and as the three of you settled into bed that night, only one thought occupied your mind: Steve.

The next morning, your brothers and father decided to eat at the nearest café in Hawkins. Over breakfast, you managed to gather more information: one piece related to Max's curse and another concerning Eddie's possible connection to Chrissy's murder, a name you learned only afterward. “And I thought vampires were bad,” you quipped, eliciting chuckles from your brothers. Given your extensive hunting records and those of your brothers and father, it was evident that this situation in Hawkins was unlike anything you had faced before.

After breakfast, while your family was investigating with Dustin's help, you decided to visit the store. Steve was nowhere to be found, so you gently placed the DVDs on the counter and waited. As time passed, your patience waned. With a sigh, you left the DVDs and some cash on the table, resigning yourself to the thought that Steve might already be thinking of someone else, perhaps even kissing another girl. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out, “Y/N! So sorry, it was my break shift. I didn’t–”

Your face brightened at his presence, a wave of relief washing over you for not considering his break earlier. You watched him clumsily put on his vest and walk toward you for a hug. “You okay?” he asked, releasing you and focusing entirely on you, his eyes filled with affection. You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yes, we finally managed to talk it out with my father,” you murmured, still processing the emotional weight of the conversation.

Steve's concern was palpable, but relief washed over his face as you spoke. “Also,” he added, a smile spreading across his lips, “I heard you’ll be staying here for a while, huh?” His teasing tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head and murmuring a soft, “Mhm.”

"Yep, my brothers insisted on helping as much as they can," you said, appreciating their unwavering support, even in the gravest situations. It was one of the many reasons you wanted to join their hunts; balancing college and hunting didn't seem so daunting after all. "This means seeing your face all day," you added with a teasing pout, trying to feign offense. Steve's chuckle and eye roll, however, told you he saw right through your playful act.

"Ouch, I am hurt," he said sarcastically, stepping closer. It was now or never, he thought. If he waited another day, another week, who knew when he'd get another chance to express his feelings. "You know," his voice became slightly hoarse as his eyes roamed over your face and body. His fingers gently brushed your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. Up close, you realized how striking Steve's eyes were—something you'd have to get used to. "I don't have anything planned for tonight," he purred, making you tilt your head in feigned innocence. You knew Steve had something in mind, even if he wasn't saying it outright.

"I was thinking of inviting you over for a movie night at my place. I'll cover the pizza," he offered, his words causing your cheeks to warm. While you felt the urge to inform your brothers, you decided to wait until later, until you were at Steve's house. "Alright, lover boy," you said, using the nickname your brother had coined for him. Steve grunted and rolled his eyes, dismissing the teasing. "So, tonight at 8, Chipmunk?" he added with a smirk, to which you responded with a playful glare.

"Eight o'clock it is," you agreed. Just as you felt the warmth of Steve's proximity, the door swung open. In walked Dustin, Max, Eddie, and your brothers. Dean, unable to resist, was the first to comment. "Alright, lovebirds, we've got some research to do. If you want my sister by eight, we need to get started immediately."

"Dean!" you protested, turning to face your brother with a glare. He smirked and followed Dustin to the DVD computer, while Steve protested for more carefulness. As everyone crowded around the screen, Sam approached you, leaving the two of you momentarily alone. "You know," he said with a genuine smile, "if you want to go to college—" You shook your head. Despite your father’s agreement, you couldn’t leave your family behind; you loved them too much. "No, I really think I'm ready," you replied. Sam raised an eyebrow, taken aback but relieved, and wrapped one arm around you in a quick hug.

"Then let’s kill this thing," Sam said, and you nodded, following him. Who would have thought that a place you initially hoped would hold clues about your father's whereabouts would also be where you'd find friends and someone to count on—Steve Harrington. "You okay?" Steve murmured as you joined him, noticing your brief discussion with Sam. "Yes, I am," you replied with a smile, feeling his hand gently squeeze yours. "I just can’t wait for tonight as well," you confessed, and you could have sworn you saw Steve's cheeks warm at your comment, which you found adorably endearing. He leaned in to press a kiss on your cheek, returning the favor.

"I am too," he said.