#these are all a lighting nightmare and probably look like garbage

[7s3ven]

okay I feel like you would be the perfect person to write this request! Obviously you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :)it and idea for a Luke castellan x reader (and spoilers for the books/series if you haven’t read the books or know the plot!)

Is there anyway you’d be interesting in writing a Luke x reader where they’re a daughter of Poseidon fic where he betray the reader and like poisons them instead of percy but reader and Luke where in a relationship??? Idk mad woman by Taylor’s swift like opening lyrics give off that sort of vibe sorry if this makes no sense 😭

THE WAY I GASPED AND SHOUTED "THAT'S EVIL". Nahhh, poor Y/N. I feel so bad for the suffering I'm going to put her through...

( master list )

POISON AND TOXIN. luke (pjo)

IN WHICH... Luke commits the unthinkable and Y/N no longer wants any part in his life. Unfortunately for her, Luke isn’t ready to let her go.

"I'm takin' my time, takin' my time. 'Cause you took everything from me. Watchin' you climb, watchin' you climb over people like me."

Warnings : spoilers, details will differ (I haven’t read the books in ages), obsessive love, yandere! luke, kidnapping, angst, betrayal, toxic relationship, mentions of sex, manipulation, y/n + luke know they’re toxic but they can’t stay away from each other

—

The last few days without Percy had been uneventful to say the most. Y/N groaned as she slowly sat up, clutching her aching head. The pain was pounding against her skull, causing her to quietly scoff. She groggily reached for a bottle of pills beside her bed, taking one to relieve the pressure.

The harsh light from the sun seared into the room and she groaned, squinting her eyes to protect them.

“Another late night, Y/N?” Harmon, a boy from the Apollo cabin, called out as she exited her cabin to breathe in the morning air. He jogged over to a swaying Y/N.

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel right without Percy.” Y/N groaned, running a hand through her untidy hair. She probably looked like a mess right now but with all the thoughts rushing through her mind, she didn’t care.

It felt wrong without Percy. All those years alone had done some damage on her and it had been exciting to have someone new in her cabin, for a little while at least. While Percy occupied the bed in the corner of the dusty room, Y/N’s nightmares came to a temporary halt. She was happy for the time being, her dreams filled with pretty flowers and romantic settings instead of chilling monsters and bony hands threatening to drag her to the bottom of the ocean.

“How’s Luke?” Harmon questioned, causing Y/N to heave an annoyed sigh. She rolled her E/C sighed, scowling.

“As distant as ever.” She sneered. She lifted her head, making eye contact with the one person they were talking about. Y/N held strong eye contact with Luke before glancing back to Harmon, smiling at him. “Have you had breakfast yet?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know if there’s any food left?”

“There might be. You woke up pretty late.” Harmon grinned.

“I will see you later, then. I have to make myself look presentable and not like a raccoon that just crawled out of a garbage can.” Y/N laughed at her own joke as she waltzed back into her cabin, kicking the door closed. She hummed under her breath as she pulled the crop top she slept in off, replacing it with her bra and the bright orange shirt she hated so much.

She quietly yelped when her door creaked open, thinking it was someone else. She felt a little relieved when it was only Luke. He stood there in all his glory, arms folded over his chest and a look on his face that suggested he wasn't happy at all. "What was that?" He questioned, sitting down on Y/N's bed as she looked at him in confusion.

"Uh... what?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Luke scoffed at her perplexed face, not believing it for a second.

"You were flirting with that Apollo boy. You're my girlfriend, not his." Luke snapped, anger glazing over his usual kind eyes. Y/N was taken aback, staring at him with her red-tinted lips parted in surprise.

"I wasn't... what? Luke, I wasn't flirting with Harmon. He's my friend." Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid on a pair of pants. She could feel Luke's gaze watching her every move and wandering over her waist.

What had become of Luke? She was at camp before he even arrived and she was the one to show him around, introducing the boy to the perilous life of a demigod. Ever since that damned quest, he had been acting different. More closed-off, more secretive with someone he once shared everything with, and he let his temper get the best of him; always shouting at people and letting his anger flare up like he was Clarisse.

Annabeth could sense the change too.

"What's with you, Luke? You used to be fine with me talking to Harmon." Y/N took a careful step towards her boyfriend, not wanting to upset him even more.

"That was before he started staring at you like you were the only girl he could ever date." Luke jeered as he deeply frowned. Y/N smoothened out her messy bedsheets before taking a seat next to him.

She stared at him, not really knowing what to reply with. Her breath shuddered as she shrugged. "I guess I could... talk to him less?" She muttered, causing Luke's face to light up. He instantly smiled, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N blinked a few times, thickly gulping.

"I... I love you too, Luke." His hands felt like blistering metal on her bare arms but she couldn't find the courage to pull away, in fear he'd hurt her or leave her. Luke had never hit her, thankfully, but his words sometimes pierced her soul and he left her crying under her sheets, wondering what she had done wrong.

"I'll see you after archery, alright?" Luke ended the hug.

Y/N stared at him in confusion. "But... I thought you were teaching the newbies archery and I'd be showing someone else around?" She spluttered.

"Nah. I changed your job. Newcomer's a boy and I don't want him to get any ideas." Luke grinned and Y/N couldn't say no to his charming face. He passionately kissed her, cupping her face in his large hands to pull her closer.

"I should get going, Luke." Y/N breathed but he tugged her back.

"You can afford to leave them for a few minutes." He whispered, dragging Y/N onto his lap. She couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing bright red despite his hands harshly digging into her skin and his grip being so tight that she couldn't squirm away, even if she wanted to. Luke had no interest in whatever the new kid was saying. He kept babbling on and eventually, Luke managed to tune out his voice. The pair ended up in the arena and the boy, whose name was Gil, nudged Luke.

"Who's that?" Gil questioned, pointing at Y/N. Luke clenched his jaw and harshly cleared his throat. He placed his hands on Gil's shoulders, squeezing him tighter than needed.

"Y/N L/N." He muttered. "Pretty little thing, ain't she? She's great with archery. May as well be Apollo's daughter with that skill." Gil didn't notice the dark look in Luke's eyes, too preoccupied with craning his neck to catch another longing glimpse of Y/N. Luke cleared his throat, "The tour's over. I trust you'll be able to find the Hermes cabin by yourself?"

Gil mindlessly nodded.

Luke walked over to Y/N, tapping her on the shoulder. He kissed her cheek, making sure Gil saw his not-so-subtle advances. "What was that for?" She asked as she turned to Luke. The young demigods groaned at the sight of a couple and Y/N quietly laughed, effortlessly shushing them.

"I think you've had enough practice for today. Come back tomorrow, same time." Y/N said to the children, ushering them away. Luke slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked side by side.

"You have to stop attracting attention from other guys." Luke uttered to break the peaceful silence.

"What?" Y/N lightly gasped, offended. She glowered at Luke, quietly scoffing. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

Luke shrugged, pressing his lips into an annoyed thin line. "I'm just saying. You wear low-waisted pants and a shirt that's too small." Y/N should have punched him for that comment but she was sure that Luke could do a lot worse to her pretty face.

"My clothes are not an invitation." Y/N quickly snapped.

"When did you start disrespectfully talking back?"

"It's hardly disrespectful, Luke. I'm simply standing up for myself. I do not condone your jealous behavior and troublesome remarks." Y/N harshly poked his chest, almost angrily baring her teeth at him. "Talk to me when you regain your senses. It's not my damn fault that you feel so threatened by other boys that you start blaming me."

Luke ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Y/N storm off. He bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in frustration. Y/N would forgive him for his harsh and cold words in no time, she always did. Especially when he'd sneak into her cabin at night with her permission and press her hips deep into her squeaky mattress.

Y/N went to lunch furious and still fuming. A part of her wanted to wear an over-sized shirt to please Luke while the other refused to back down. What gave him the right to dictate her life while he could do whatever he wanted simply because of his gender?

Y/N was even angrier to see Luke standing at the Aphrodite table, entertaining the giggling girls who he knew had a thing for him. She gripped her fork tightly and jumped when someone slid into the seat next to her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Y/N recognised him as the Gil boy, or whatever his name was. She raised her eyebrows as her lips curled into a slight sneer.

“Do I… know you?” She asked, “Only Poseidon kids are allowed to sit here and until my brother is back, nobody but me should be here.”

Gil quickly stood up, his knees hitting the table. “Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll, uh, go back to the Hermes table. Sorry, again.” He ran off while Y/N sighed. She picked at her half-eaten food before deciding she was no longer hungry. It was a rash decision but as soon as she reached the wildly dancing fire, she threw her food and plate in. Her father wouldn’t be too pleased but he could live with it.

Luke’s sharp gaze followed Y/N as she left the cheerful atmosphere. He quietly chuckled and smirked. If there was one thing that he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t handle jealousy too well either.

He left the Aphrodite table without an excuse, not caring about the girls drunk with love. “Hey, Y/N, honey, did that Gil kid upset you? I understand that he’s a little annoying but I can talk to him if you want.” Luke clasped his hands around her wrist, forcing her to stop walking so quickly.

“It’s not his fault!” Y/N exclaimed, spinning around. Her eyes were red and the tears welling up in her eyes shone in the dim sun. “It’s yours, Luke! You treat me like I’m some… some girl who worships the ground you walk on! Well, I don’t! I have some self-respect left. And if you want to flirt with other girls then that’s fine by me. But make sure you break up with me first because I’m not putting up with any of your bullshit.”

Luke chuckled, “Harsh words, don’t you think?” He almost jumped when Y/N let out a scream.

“You never take me seriously! All you do is play around and then you get mad at me for factors I can’t control! Yet you always brush me off when I’m trying to resolve things. You isolate me from my friends so I’m easier to mess with! Well, are you done now? Have you had enough fun?!”

“I’m not manipulating you. You’re crazy to think that. I love you, Y/N.”

“No! That’s not true! That’s a lie!” Y/N pulled at the end of her hair, “You fell in love with the idea of me! You’re in love with your version of me that lives inside your head! And then you get mad at me because I make a mistake and your Y/N isn’t supposed to make mistakes!But I’m not like her, Luke! You have pushed me too far and when I finally break, suddenly I’m the crazy one?! You always call me crazy. So guess what, maybe I am insane!” Y/N heavily panted as tears spilled over her hot cheeks, cascading down and temporarily staining her shirt. She had always been a kind soul but there was one particular flaw Y/N hated; her habit of crying whenever she was mad.

“If you won’t end our relationship then I will. We’re over, Luke. I’ve had enough of your jealousy and if you can’t accept that I have guy friends then maybe you need to think twice before attacking me.” Y/N reached up, grasping the necklace she had made Luke that hung around his neck, and yanking it off.

Luke watched in despair as the colourful beads dropped one by one to the floor, rolling under the green blades of grass. “Are you crazy?” He muttered, looking up. “You can’t leave me… I’m all you have.” He clutched his shirt, balling up the fabric, and he took long strides towards Y/N. “I made you into who you are. I created you from nothing. Before me, you were only a girl half-decent at archery. Now, you’re a prodigy. You would’ve been lost without my guidance and you have the guts to break up with me?!”

Y/N didn’t flinch, even when Luke’s voice pierced her sensitive ears. “It’s like you said, Luke. I am crazy. Breakups happen so deal with it.” She threw the remaining beads and the leather string at him before walking away, most likely to stay in the cool comforts of her cabin until Annabeth and Percy returned.

Luke could barely contain his rage and he hurriedly kneeled down to collect the beads, or at least the ones he could find.

Each bead and charm seemed to bring back a different memory of them arguing or fighting over a pointless topic. Luke sighed as he leaned his head back, knowing he had made a mistake.

But if there was one thing Luke Castellan refused to do, it was give up. So he stared at Y/N all throughout dinner. And even when Y/N made it clear that the sight of him made her sick, he still knocked on her door at night.

“Y/N.” He called out, impatiently tapping his foot against the old wood. “I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m ready to talk everything out. I’m calm now.”

Those were the exact words he had uttered to Y/N last week, promising he would change but he never did. Y/N had learned her lesson from that, refusing to open the door and going as far as locking it.

“Y/N. You’re being unreasonable.” Luke grumbled as he desperately tried to open the door, barging into it with his shoulder. He heard Y/N laugh.

“That’s ironic considering you’re trying to break my door down.” She spoke over the hooting owls and buzzing cicadas. “You always promise you’ll change but you never do. Don’t you think it’s time to stop making empty promises?”

Luke could hear her voice waver and he felt a small pang of guilt, knowing he was the reason behind her agonising sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, not only to Y/N but to everybody he was about to hurt, even to his father who was the most wretched man in this world. He repeated his sentence, leaning his head against the door. It suddenly swung open and Luke almost crashed into Y/N whom was still gripping the door knob.

She quietly sighed, her gaze immediately spotting his mournful eyes and his lips pulled into a guiltily frown. Y/N hesitated before stepping aside.

“This is your last chance, Luke.” She mumbled but he knew she was lying. She loved him far too much to devoid herself of his charming face.

Luke smiled as he brushed past Y/N. She could never resist him, after all. In a way, Luke pitied her for being so forgiving and sick with love because she and Percy were in the most danger out of everybody, even if they couldn’t see it yet.

The day Percy returned was the day Luke decided to be a hopeless romantic. He took an unsuspecting Y/N into the woods, twirling her around a few times because she always liked dancing.

While Y/N was distracted by the babbling brook and dipping her hand in the cool water, Luke clasped his hands behind his back. He was thinking of what to do next, let Y/N to fend for herself or he could struggle to protect her.

But sacrificing so much for a mere girl seemed pointless, even if Luke was developing strong feelings for Y/N. He quickly clicked his fingers, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her joyful smiling fading as she laid eyes on the huge pit scorpion.

She scrambled back while Luke watched her pathetic attempt at escaping.

“I wouldn’t.” He uttered, “Pit scorpions can jump fifteen feet and slice right through your clothes. You’ll be dead in sixty seconds. But, of course, you already knew that because you love reading about these creatures. That’s why you look so frightened.”

Y/N looked at Luke, searching for any kindness in his eyes to offer her mercy. There was none. His eyes were like a void, empty and dark and lacking any human emotions.

He looked nothing like her Luke who she had met on his first day of camp, scared, annoyed, and baffled at what had become of his dead friend Thalia.

“It’s a shame I have to end our relationship here. I was starting to enjoy your presence, but giving up all my hard work for you is hardly beneficial.”

“What?” Y/N spluttered, trying to kick the scorpion away. She only made it angrier and it clapped his claws at her, ignoring Luke altogether. The scorpion’s tail was raised in hostility and Y/N held back a loud shudder of fear, knowing Luke was thriving off her terror. “Luke… what are you talking about?”

He laughed as if she were an idiot. She felt like one for trusting him despite how much he hurt her. “You don’t get it, do you? I want revenge. On my father and on the gods who have forsaken their children! They don’t give a shit about us. They never did. To them, we’re just some nitwits who are stupid enough to suck up to them. I was the one who stole the bolt, Y/N. Not Hades. And I was the one who sent that hellhound after Percy.”

“Luke, I trusted you.” Y/N thickly gulped.

“A fatal mistake.”

“No. That’s our parents you’re talking about, Luke. And you wouldn’t try and kill Percy… would you? Not my brother. You know how much he means to me.” Y/N’s eyesight turned glassy as she furrowed her eyebrows.

It all made sense now. His sour mood and his bitter attitude. All those nights she spent crying over his glass sharp words. Y/N felt foolish for not noticing what he was doing, but she was far too preoccupied with saving her relationship with Luke at the time.

“What did you think I’d say to that? Join you?” Y/N huffed.

Luke’s eyes flickered to the large bug that was only getting more furious as the seconds ticked by. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?” He simply questioned.

Y/N’s hardened gaze bored into his soul as she answered. “They strike to kill… and you know I will too.”

Yes, Luke knew that. Y/N was an exceptional fighter with strategic moves rivalling Annabeth’s. Every carefully planned attack she dealt was like instant death. Luke knew if she had a weapon then she wouldn’t hesitate to land a blow. But he also knew she cared for him far too much to stab his chest. If he had a better weapon, would he do the same? Or spare her?

“It’s a shame you won’t join me… I know you won’t. You and your brother are too alike.” Luke let out a low hum, “I guess we’ve both changed. You used to be hungry for power. I remember you would train until the sunset with your bow and arrow, always wanting to be the best. You’d skip meals, even if you were starving, and I’d have to beg and cry for you to eat. Maybe if my father didn’t give me that quest then we would’ve been fine.”

Luke stared at Y/N for a moment before a grin broke across his face. He stepped over the furious scorpion, pressing a strong kiss to Y/N’s lips. It felt on acid on her skin, itchy and burning and painful.

“A part of me hopes you’ll survive this.” He whispered, “So you can live to see another day. I’ll create the perfect world for you… you’ll see. You’ll love me again even if I have to force the words down your throat.”

Something slipped into her pocket but Y/N’s mind was on the pit scorpion. She flinched as the it climbed up her shoe, snapping its pinchers again.

“Luke.” She breathed as he began to walk away. “Luke. Don’t leave me here! Luke!” She screeched. She would have continued screaming, even if her voice gave up and her vocal cords tore, if it meant she could spend one more day with the warm and loving Luke that she once knew.

The scorpion drove its tail into her leg and she shrieked in pain. She kicked the creature off and desperately searched around for a weapon. She found a small dagger in her pocket, realising that’s what Luke must’ve given to her.

Y/N sliced the scorpion, panting as the world become a confused hazed. She stabbed the creature over and over again until it was nothing but a gruesome corpse of a once terrifying bug.

Y/N limped towards the water but she stumbled, falling to her knees. The toxin was spreading through her blood quickly. She desperately reached out a hand for the creek water, knowing it could possibly heal her. Making it in time to camp would be impossible with her blurring eyesight and inability to walk properly. She’d have to drag her stung leg behind her.

Y/N clawed her way towards the water before her body gave in to the poison. Her limbs grew numb and they refused to move.

Y/N heard the loud noise of bushes rustling and Percy burst into the clearing, Annabeth and a few Apollo kids following close behind.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice deafened by the ringing in her ears. She felt dizzy and the world spun in slow-motion as the Apollo healers turned Y/N on her back. Percy kneeled beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“She’s been stung. We don’t have much time. Feed her the nectar.”

Black dots swarmed around in her vision. She could see Annabeth yelling at her but she heard no voices as she let her head loll to the side and she finally succumbed to sleep, not knowing if she would wake up again.

Y/N stirred as the harsh light peeked through the thin curtains of the infirmary. She lightly groaned, shifting around to get more comfortable. Her senses were slowly coming back and she could finally hear again.

“Y/N?” Percy was at her side in an instant. She smiled up at him.

“He really stole the bolt… didn’t he?” She whispered. Percy slowly nodded.

“Yeah…”

Luke’s betrayal would be hard to endure for both the Poseidon siblings and Annabeth. He was beloved by most of the camp and he threw it all away for one pitiful shot at glory.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you loved him.” Percy’s grip on her hand tightened.

A small laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips. “I guess I did… but he didn’t love me back. Or maybe he did and I simply wasn’t enough…”

Luke’s love had ever been pure or innocent. There was always a catch to it. He was obsessive with her, constantly ensuring that no other guys talked to Y/N. At least, not the ones that posed a threat.

A part of Y/N would always miss Luke but she could feel relief wash over her body because she no longer had to endure his lashing-out anger and sadness anymore.

She had escaped his cruel clutches and until they met again, most likely on a battlefield with their swords pressed up against each other’s throats, she could live in peace.

However, happiness never lasted long for demigods. “Get some rest.” Percy uttered as he stepped out of the infirmity. It was late at night and the last Apollo kid had just finished her daily rounds at checking the patients.

Y/N quietly sighed as she leaned her head back, her eyelids fluttering closed. The floorboards creaked but she paid it no mind. All the cabins squeaked, even the Aphrodite one.

Y/N felt drowsy under the influence of the medicine she had been given and she fell asleep in no time. Her long awaited rest didn’t last for long, though, when she awoke with a loud gasp.

She was outside. In a shallow river. Her clothes stuck to her body and she spat out a mouthful of water. Y/N shivered, rubbing her arms as a sorry attempt to generate warmth.

From the shore, she heard a familiar laugh. It pierced her soul and Y/N stiffened, her breath trembling. Luke sat not even a meter away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He saw her petrified face and it fuelled a sadistic need inside of him.

“I changed my mind, sweetheart.” Those words from him felt like poison to Y/N. “I got permission to keep you around as long as you don’t get into trouble.”

Luke inched forward and Y/N tilted away, trying to scramble rearward. Her back hit a large rock and she quivered, realising she was trapped between a boulder and Luke. Her former lover was approaching her quickly and she didn’t have time to react before he was kneeled in front of her, not caring how his clothes got soaked.

He gently grasped Y/N’s chin, an action that contrasted his aggressive approach back at camp. He tilted her head up so that she was forced to stare at him and sent her another sickeningly sweet smile.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” He whispered in her ear. His hands felt gross on her skin but her body refused to move. She knew she wouldn’t get far with her injured leg and weakened body. “Because I missed you terribly.”

His lips captured Y/N’s in a long kiss and for millisecond, she forgot all his wrongdoings. She almost melted before she came back to her senses.

As Luke pulled away, Y/N sank further into the river like it would save her from whatever callous and vicious act Luke was going to perform.

Her whole body shook, and not just from the cold, as she found herself cornered in Luke’s suffocating embrace once again after fighting so long to get out.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303

[azurefaire]

> watches an entire video rant on how chibiverse is a online content farm created by disney (id say there is some good things or at least an attempt in those early parts and i do like the art style actually but yeah it is), and lowkey messes with your mind cause disney has screwed over many of the shows they featured and they have free range to use any characters they own without the involvement of others (hailey's, woy, toh etc)

> disney releases a new episode of said show that literally pays homage to older/forgotten shows picked from a bag and puts them underground in a cave

> finds clips on youtube

> pepper ann is there my baby!!! seemingly portrayed in the best light compared to bonkers, billy dilly, maggie etc

> they GOT pepper ann

> remembers the time i thought about a month ago "what if pepper ann nicky and milo were in this show, that would be impossible especially since the chibiverse thing is all a tiny land of modern series. they are probably in a distant land, or somewhere underground"

> reminds me of the time i had an idea of cartoons living a double life when they arent airing, within a multi channel cartoon crossover called "under the airwaves" sort of like wreck it ralph but cartoons from tv. literally would incorporate so manyy real shows into this idea, including this shit cause it has facinating implications and i remember a glitch when it first aired lol

> enough of my garbage au/crossover shit!! oh wow shes so cute though!! my baby!!!

> THEY GOT PEPPER ANN'S BABY CLONE IN A CAVE UNDERGROUND EATING DIRT WITH CLAMANTHA FROM FISH HOOKS??? IN THE UNDERVERSE??? SHE'S EATING DIRT??

> BUT FISH HOOKS HAS BEEN relevant out of all these shows especially on tiktok and specifically shellsea. so i guess clamantha. sure. certain comic relief characters people dont care about. has anyone truly cared for clamantha when jocktopus exists? really...

> penny and kim were very lucky to have continued relevance. they could be eating dirt! not all up in disney's weird ass fantasy living neighborhood gen z ifed

> now realizing this is when many characters havent spoken for literal years return... and how thats kind of cool in some aspects. but i think ppl wanted more animated version kim possible years ago...

> realizing if they didnt pick the funniest characters to do this, they could literally piss off so many fans of like motorcity or like randy cunningham maybe. i mean they probably did with penn zero for like two people.

> who picked them and why. also vince from recess took me a while to get why cause he didnt seem like the lead. but i'm assuming he's the most "underrated" or underutilzed one

> bonkers, spitting image of "obscure disney cartoon" - even watched a video on that... has a line where he says chibi. maggie the fly that everyone loves to hate has lines. i dont know why everyone hates her, she's self absorbed or something.

> i dont care about star vs but star is so cute in this and her dynamic with vasquez is funny...

> the primal desire for crossover content and the joy it brings is real. the uncontrolled desire to say "i didnt know i needed this" is real. i didnt need this! in some ways i hate this! in some ways i dont want this! but i like it anyway. and i cant stop it!

> chibi pepper ann also implies the existence of a chibi moose or a chibi cissy or trinket or gwen or alice kane or the teachers or trinket or lydia or steve the cat or mark hamill or alex trebek or effie shrug... chibi stewart waldinger....

> no cartoon is safe. chibi nightmare ned. chibi weekenders. chibi fillmore.

> watch them acknowledge house of mouse very soon in a very tongue in cheek way that will piss everyone off cause this show and that show are often mentioned together online. they probably look online to get script ideas idk maybe. something something ppl might say about tarnishing legacy of older cartoons cause every ip (😔) is at risk here. but they lay one finger on hom?? people are very protective of that show. carnage.

> hurt/comfort nickyann 500k fanfic in the underverse nicky going "i miss my family pepper ann. i miss them a lot."

> gonna watch the whole thing now.

[itwasrealtome]

AGENT GRAY

Chapter 22 • Not Home, But Close

TAGLIST FORM

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⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Olivia Benson x fem! FBI Agent OC

Summary:

Content Warning: Usual SVU & Violent Crime talk • Human Trafficking - Corpses - Teen Victims - Blood - CRIME SCENE - Description of the Crime Scene - CSU techs - Religious Case - Threats -

*

*THREE DAYS EARLIER*

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 07

Manhattan — Crime Scene

05:38 AM

—If I fake an injury now, think I can get out of that Fourth of July game without losing Bureau cred?

Miles's voice cut through the early morning stillness with that brand of familiar sarcasm that only came when he was already picturing the nightmare of being forced into a team jersey and swinging wildly at curveballs in front of half of Manhattan's law enforcement. He stepped lightly over a scatter of broken glass that caught the first whisper of dawn and glimmered like shattered ice against the damp asphalt. His coat was drawn tight against the chill that hadn't yet given way to the city's summer burn, but even that slight cold couldn't hide the scent of death hanging heavy in the alley.

The scene stretched long and narrow before them, the kind of backlot space people forgot existed until something awful reminded them. Graffiti curled along the brick walls in faded bursts of color that looked more like bruises in the low light. The buildings hunched close together, dark windows like hollowed eyes staring down at the mess below. Trash bins lined the left side in rusted, uneven formation, their lids half-closed against the reek of rotting food and something metallic underneath–something older. It wasn't just the stink of garbage. It was the chemical thrum of decomposition. Blood, damp paper, copper. The alley was a burial ground dressed up in city grime. And it had been waiting.

Alexis didn't answer him right away. She was crouched low beside the far wall, one knee bent, gloved fingers hovering over a smear of dried blood that twisted along the concrete like a dragged brushstroke. It was dark, nearly black in places, and where it hadn't pooled, it fanned outward in thin spatter–a story in arterial bursts. Her gaze tracked the line all the way to a bloated trash bag crumpled against a cinderblock, half-split open, revealing the unmistakable shape of a foot. Small. Pale. Motionless.

The first uniform on scene had marked it hastily–an evidence tent already damp and sagging, its number scrawled half-legibly in Sharpie. Just a formality now. Nothing could sanitize what they were standing in. The commander leaned closer. A torn swatch of pink fabric protruded from beneath the bag, twisted around what might have once been an arm. Something about it–a child's shirt, the kind worn in summer programs or after-school drop-ins–caught the morning light and made her throat tighten.

She didn't look up, even when her partner's footsteps scuffed softly behind her, even when the breeze brought the smell of old rain and copper sliding between them. Her eyes were locked on the ground like it was whispering to her. That particular silence–the one that came when she wasn't just seeing a scene, but unraveling it from the inside out. Like she was already walking backward through the last seconds of someone's life.

—Miles, she said finally, low and dry, her voice sounding far away. You do know you can just admit you hate baseball right?

He let out a tired breath, halfway between a chuckle and a groan, stepping past a pile of cracked takeout containers and sodden cardboard.

—I did. And Reynolds called it treason.

He came to stand beside her, shoulders slouched and hands deep in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the length of the alley like he could somehow spot the thing that would make all of this make sense.

—Between the NYPD, FDNY, and us, it's not even about the game anymore. It's a city-wide testosterone derby. Whoever hits the most home runs gets bragging rights, an ego the size of Central Park, and probably the least-burnt office coffee machine in their division.

Alexis didn't laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched. She rose slowly, peeling off her gloves with a kind of practiced detachment—finger by finger, methodical—before brushing them clean against the thigh of her pants. Her eyes flicked toward the far end of the alley where another body was being photographed, partially obscured by a collapsed shopping cart and a spray of discarded flyers. The victim was no older than the first. Teenage. Female. Bare legs covered in grime. No shoes.

—Would explain why the scheduling board looks like it was drawn up by a frat house, she muttered. Also, you played soccer. In Ohio. No one's asking you to relive your glory days. Just show up, take a swing, and try not to tear a hamstring.

The man placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

—Division II, he reminded her solemnly. We had matching warmups. Team breakfasts. A mascot. The works. You ever get tackled by a guy in a cardinal suit with dead eyes? Scars you for life.

She snorted once, softly. But her eyes never left the second victim. The moment was shifting again. That fragile thread of levity unraveling under the pressure of what surrounded them. The alley had grown colder, somehow, and quieter. Like even the city itself was holding its breath.

Miles lowered his hand with a sigh that was more bone-deep than breath. The air felt different now. He could see it in the way his friend's shoulders squared, the way her stance shifted from casual to keyed-in without fanfare. She was always like this–able to laugh for exactly the amount of time it took to keep the pressure from crushing them, and no longer.

He shifted his stance, folding his arms across his chest as his weight sank into one hip, boots scuffing lightly against the grimy concrete beneath him. The sound was faint, almost swallowed by the silence that had crept over the alley like a second skin. He didn't need to ask what she saw. The way Alexis stood, body taut and eyes narrowed against the shadows, told him enough.

The second girl lay just beyond the edge of the portable floodlights, where the glow gave out and the dark took over. Even half-covered, her small form spoke volumes. Limbs bent at unnatural angles, shoes missing, skin marked in ways that shouldn't happen to anyone, let alone a child. There were welts where restraints had dug in, and long, cruel scrapes down one thigh like she'd fought something that never gave her a chance. The CSU techs moved quietly around the body, their voices low and their hands steady, but even that calm couldn't hide the tightness around their eyes. One of them–maybe new, maybe just not used to this particular brand of hell–kept pausing, as if bracing for the moment the image would burn too deep to forget.

The alley stank of rot and old metal, of rainwater that hadn't been enough to wash away what happened here. Miles had seen worse. They both had. But something about this case–about the girls, about the silence and the lies wrapped in sermons and smiles–stuck sharper than usual. It scraped behind his ribs. The longer he stood there, the harder it was to pretend this was just another scene, just another day.

Alexis didn't speak for a long time. Her posture was still, but not at rest–like she was coiled around something invisible, holding it down. When she finally did speak, her voice was quieter than usual, the words low and deliberate, like they cost her something to say.

—I invited Olivia. To the game.

Langford blinked, surprised by the shift. He turned toward her slowly, his brow arching as the words sank in.

—You did?

She gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving the line of techs now lifting the edge of the second tarp.

—Figured Noah might like it. Ava and Charlie'll be there. Thought it might be... good. Something fun. Something normal.

The pause that followed wasn't long, not even a full breath, but it was full of weight. Miles heard what she didn't say. He heard it in the slight softening of her tone, in the way she avoided his eyes, in the way her hand flexed once at her side and then stilled. He didn't press–at least not right away. Just gave her the space to walk herself back, to deny it. But she didn't. She stood there, back straight, staring at the worst of it like it was easier than admitting anything else.

He finally stepped a little closer, dropping his voice to keep it just between them.

—Let me guess–box seats, hot dogs, red-white-and-blue face paint. You standing there pretending to care about the score. Her next to you the whole time.

That pulled her eyes toward him. Just briefly. And her expression, though unreadable to most, didn't fool him. Not all the way.

He smiled, just a little.

—Are you gonna tell her?

The brunette blinked. Her head tilted slightly, playing innocent, like she didn't understand the question.

—Tell her what?

—Oh, come on, Miles said, dragging out the words with practiced patience. You're inviting the lieutenant of Manhattan SVU to sit with your best friend, his wife, and their daughter at a game you didn't even want to go to. That's not a casual invitation. That's family outing territory. You gonna finally tell her how you feel? Or are you sticking to the strong, silent, emotionally constipated federal agent routine?

For a second, something flickered across her face. It wasn't quite a smile, but it wasn't anger either. It was that look she wore when she wanted to say something but knew she couldn't–because the truth would unravel too much too fast. Then, just like that, her expression shuttered. Her gaze dropped back to the bodies, and whatever warmth had tried to break through disappeared beneath her command again.

—There's a connection, she said flatly, her voice sliding back into the businesslike cadence that meant the walls were back up. Same drug pattern. Same restraint marks. Same arrogance. Whoever left them didn't care if we found them. That's not panic–that's confidence. Like they don't think we'll make it to the top.

Her friend let out a slow breath through his nose.

—You're not gonna talk about it.

—There's nothing to talk about.

—Right, he said, not buying it for a second.

She stepped toward the CSU perimeter then, the motion fluid but tense, like her body needed to stay ahead of her thoughts. Then she paused again, just before she crossed into the cordoned zone.

—That girl Benson pulled out of the church. Maria. She wasn't the start of it. But she cracked something. Even if she didn't say a word, she changed the game.

Miles didn't argue. He knew the truth when he heard it—even when it came dressed in avoidance. Alexis Gray didn't dodge out of fear. She did it to protect people. She'd always done it that way, from deployment to desk work. But the more she avoided, the more it ate at her. He saw it in the way her jaw clenched. In the way her hand twitched again at her side like it wanted to reach for something solid–someone she wasn't ready to admit she needed.

—Alright. We'll circle back to the whole feelings thing later. Preferably when we're not standing next to dead teenagers and a CSU tech trying not to puke in his mask.

The attempt at levity landed somewhere in the space between them, a soft buffer against the grim gravity of the alley. Alexis didn't laugh. But she didn't snap back either. Her answer came low, almost too soft to catch.

—Appreciate that.

And she meant it. Not just the words, but the weight behind them. The way he gave her space without abandoning the truth. The way he always knew when to back off without leaving her alone in it. Still, the agent didn't miss the shift–the way her eyes lingered on the tarp a second longer than necessary, the tiny twitch in her jaw when someone behind them muttered Olivia's name while cross-referencing notes. The SEAL didn't move, didn't flinch. But her body did that thing it always did when she was trying not to feel something too hard–her spine went straighter, her breath just a little shallower. Like she was bracing herself against an impact that hadn't hit yet.

Miles turned back toward the crime scene slowly, exhaling through his nose. The heat of dawn was beginning to rise between the buildings, thickening the air with the slow rot of garbage and rain-soaked brick. But all he could feel was the weight pressing behind his ribs–the weight of knowing too much and still not enough. He didn't need her to say it out loud. Not yet. But she was bleeding, in silence, for more than just the case. For someone. Someone with dark eyes and a badge and a son who still believed the world could be safe.

He didn't say another word. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning. If Alexis wouldn't tell her, maybe the game would. Maybe seeing Olivia in the stands, arms wrapped around Noah, laughing with Ava and Charlie–maybe that would tip the scale. One way or another, something needed to give. Because you could only carry that kind of love in secret for so long before it cracked you open from the inside.

Then, from somewhere behind the row of CSU vans, a voice cut through the static of early morning.

—Commander Gray?

It was loud, but not panicked—sharp, clear, enough to pull her attention without setting off alarms. She turned, boots shifting against the wet concrete, and locked eyes with a young forensic tech jogging toward her, one gloved hand raised. He looked uncertain, uneasy, his other hand gripping a clear plastic evidence bag, the kind sealed tight at both ends. Inside it, a black phone vibrated in steady pulses against the plastic.

—It's ringing, the tech said, slowing to a halt. We found it tucked into the second girl's inner jacket lining. Hidden. But... it hasn't stopped.

Alexis reached for the bag without hesitation, eyes already narrowing. Her fingers curled around the edge of the plastic, holding it steady as the screen lit up again. Unknown number. No caller ID. But the timing–right now, right here–wasn't coincidence. It was calculated.

She didn't speak. Just accepted the call with one gloved fingertip through the plastic.

—Mmhmm, her partner muttered behind her, already on alert. That's not creepy at all.

But Gray wasn't listening. Her expression had changed, just slightly–eyes sharpened, the muscles at the base of her jaw flexing. Her voice, when it came, was low and lethal.

—Gray.

There was a pause. Not long. Just enough for her to hear her own breath inside the silence, the faint static buzz of a connection bridged across distance–and power. The voice, when it finally came, wasn't what she expected. No bravado. No theatrics. Just smooth, steady composure laced with something colder beneath.

—Commander Gray, the man said, as if greeting an old friend. It's a privilege. Really.

Her spine straightened, and a muscle ticked at the edge of her temple. Miles shifted behind her, catching the change in her posture, his own instincts flaring. He took a step closer but didn't interrupt.

The agent didn't speak. She'd learned in the teams–sometimes, silence was power. Let the enemy fill it.

The stranger chuckled softly, like he was amused by her restraint.

—I was hoping you'd pick up. I didn't think you would–not yet. But then again, you always were the type to get too close to the blast radius.

Her jaw clenched tighter.

—Who is this? she asked, though she already knew.

—You know, he said simply, like it was obvious. You've seen the pieces. The girls. The patterns. The rot. You're not the only one watching, Commander. You're just the one who came too close.

She said nothing. But her grip on the plastic tightened.

—I've been keeping an eye on a few things. On you. On your partner. And more recently–on Lieutenant Benson.

That name dropped like a stone.

Behind her, Miles straightened, but Alexis raised one hand–barely, subtly–to keep him back. Her pulse had started to thrum beneath her collar. Not panic. Not fear. Something sharper. More dangerous.

—You're playing a dangerous game, she said, her voice like steel smoothed to a whisper. Dragging kids into it. Drugging them. Dumping bodies in alleys.

—You think I'm afraid of being caught? You think this is about evidence? About charges and courtrooms and press releases? No, Commander. This isn't a case. This is a warning.

She said nothing. Let him hang himself.

—I saw her. Your lieutenant. Olivia. At the church. She didn't flinch. Not when Maria collapsed. Not when she lifted that girl out like she weighed nothing at all. Strong woman, your Benson. So strong it's almost admirable.

The SEAL's blood turned to ice. Her hand curled slightly into a fist inside the glove, the phone still pressed to her ear.

—She has a son, doesn't she? He continued, the words smooth and casual, as if discussing weather. Noah, right? Cute kid. Likes superheroes. Chocolate milk. You should see the way he looks at her–like she can stop anything bad from happening.

Something inside Alexis cracked. She didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't blink. But her body vibrated like a wire pulled too tight.

—You touch them, she said softly, dangerously, and I will end you.

The man laughed again. Not loud. Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact.

—That's the thing, Commander. You don't need to end me. You just need to walk away. Back off. Let SVU go. This isn't their fight.

—I don't run.

—I know. That's why I'm calling you first.

*

MONDAY, JUNE 12

Manhattan — FBI BUREAU

Violent Crimes Unit Floor

01:27 PM

The Violent Crimes Unit bullpen had settled into the peculiar quiet that always followed something seismic–not peace, not relief, but that dense, unsettled stillness that arrives when the adrenaline fades and reality takes its place. It was the hush after the raid, after the arrests, after the cries of rescued girls and the echo of slammed cell doors. Desks bore the scattered evidence of a long and brutal push–reports splayed open with notes scribbled in different hands, folders stacked half-cocked beneath the weight of half-drunk coffee cups. The air hung with the scent of too many people not sleeping, not eating, just surviving on caffeine and momentum. Outside, the Manhattan sky was choked with heavy gray clouds, light filtering through in a dull wash that painted everything in shades of exhaustion.

It should've felt like a victory.

It didn't.

Alexis sat motionless at her desk in the corner, spine curved forward, elbows braced tight on the manila folder thick enough to require staples just to keep it closed. The paper inside was dog-eared, fingerprinted, flecked with smudges of ink and something darker—old blood, maybe, dried and long since transferred from scene to surface. Her hands were bare now, gloves peeled off and tossed somewhere out of sight, fingers stained around the nails from hours in the field. Her hair, usually pulled into clean, efficient lines, had loosened into damp strands that clung to her temples and jaw, the humid weight of the day refusing to release its grip. A thin, ragged cut traced down from her brow, dried blood arcing past her cheekbone like a signature she hadn't earned. She hadn't bothered with a bandage. Hadn't cleaned it. It was just there–an afterthought, like everything else that didn't involve intel, logistics, or names on a list.

Her t-shirt was rumpled and rolled to the elbows, the black fabric damp around the collar and cuffs. The shoulder rig of her holster pressed visibly against her side every time she leaned in, the imprint of her weapon a reminder of how little distance there was between calm and crisis. But she wasn't fidgeting. Wasn't restless. She was stone-still–locked in the way only a soldier running on fumes and discipline could be. Her eyes flicked across the lines of a printed transcript, lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak. Didn't move.

Because Commander Gray was still working. Still digging. Still chasing the remnants of something that had already broken into pieces in front of her. The threat was neutralized, they kept saying–Elias Grant in custody, his lieutenants in processing, their ring dismantled in a raid that would make headlines by evening. But it wasn't done. Not for her. Not when the silence from Olivia had stretched longer than the distance between precincts. Not when the boy she had sworn to protect hadn't even known he was in danger. Not when it felt like saving them meant losing something else–something personal, something that kept her awake even now, long after the fight should've ended.

Miles reentered the bullpen with a brown paper bag in one hand and two coffees balanced precariously in the other. His shirt was still damp from the drizzle outside, collar darkened, sleeves rolled back to his forearms. He moved through the space with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years in rooms like this–rooms that smelled like sweat and printer toner and burnt nerves. He scanned for her before even setting the food down, because he already knew what he'd find. And he found it.

Alexis hadn't moved.

He set the bag and coffee down on the edge of her desk with a soft thud, careful not to cover the files she was dissecting. For a moment, he didn't speak–just stood there, watching the way her eyes remained fixed on the page in front of her like it had more to say than the rest of the room combined. She didn't blink. Didn't acknowledge him. But she didn't need to. He knew that silence. Knew it too well. It was the kind that came not from focus, but from holding something in. Something heavy. And personal.

—You know, I just spent seventeen dollars on sandwiches and pretended to care about the guy behind me's fantasy football draft, the agent said lightly, sliding a coffee closer to her elbow. The least you could do is pretend you're still human long enough to eat.

That earned him the smallest flicker of her gaze–quick, guarded–but she said nothing. Her jaw tightened, then relaxed, like the mere effort of lifting her head would cost more than she was willing to spend.

Miles sighed and dragged his chair to sit beside her, kicking one leg out and peeling back the bag with a rustle. The smell of roast beef and pickles wafted up between them, but the brunette didn't flinch. Didn't even inhale.

—You're bleeding, he said quietly, eyes landing on the gash above her brow. Still.

She didn't answer right away. Just closed the file and pushed it aside with slow, deliberate care. Her fingers lingered on the edge, pressing into the cardboard like she needed something solid to touch.

—I know, she said finally. Her voice was rough from disuse, scraped thin like it had been worn down by hours of silence.

Her partner watched her carefully. She looked like hell. But it wasn't the cut, or the circles under her eyes. It was the weight. The kind she carried in her spine, in the slope of her shoulders. The kind that didn't leave just because the perp was in custody.

—You want me to say it? You did it. We got him. You dismantled a trafficking ring. You did what we're supposed to do.

Alexis shook her head once, sharp and small.

—It's not done.

—It's over. He's behind glass. The DA's got enough to bury him. His crew's flipping already. And those girls? They're safe now.

She looked down, then. Finally. Her hands folded in her lap, but her posture didn't ease.

—They're safe because I pushed SVU out.

Miles frowned.

—Lex.

—I made Olivia think I was just another fed with a badge and a god complex, she said, voice barely above a whisper now. I let her believe I didn't care. That I was shutting them out because I didn't trust them.

He didn't interrupt. He just sat there, letting the silence stretch between them while his friend wrestled with the words clawing at the back of her throat. When she finally spoke, her voice had dropped low, barely more than a scrape of air across her teeth–controlled, but fraying at the edges.

—I did it to protect her. To protect Noah. Because if Grant thought they were involved, if he knew they were part of the investigation, he would've gone after them. He said it. Out loud. By name.

She paused, and for a moment, her chest didn't rise. Didn't fall. Like the memory alone had clamped down on her lungs and refused to let go.

—I made myself the target so he wouldn't look at them. So he'd think SVU was just collateral, not essential. Her voice cracked–not loudly, not enough to draw attention—but the agent heard it. Felt it. I don't regret the choice. But I hate that I had to make it.

He leaned forward slowly, resting his forearms on his knees, the sandwich long forgotten. His face was unreadable, patient in the way only someone who had sat beside her in raids and briefing rooms and late-night stakeouts could be.

—Have you talked to her?

Alexis shook her head, the motion slow, deliberate, like her body didn't quite want to admit it.

—Not since the fight.

No details, no qualifiers. Just that. The weight of those four words carried more than a full confession ever could.

A silence settled between them again–thicker now, like the air had turned to smoke and every breath scraped against it. It was the kind of pause that came when too many things had gone unsaid for too long, the kind that pressed into the chest and dared you to name what you'd been avoiding. Miles waited. He always did. He knew she'd get there when she was ready, or maybe just when it became too heavy to carry alone.

—I've been called in, she said next, as if she were mentioning a change in the weather. Her voice was casual, too even. Washington. SEAL liaison work. Just a few days, but... She shrugged, fingers drumming faintly against the desk. I leave tonight.

That caught him off guard. He straightened, brows lifting as the weight of her words landed.

—And you were just going to vanish? Without saying anything to her?

The brunette didn't flinch. Didn't defend herself. She just looked at the top of the folder in front of her like it held answers she wasn't brave enough to ask for.

—I haven't figured out what to say.

Her friend's sigh was soft, but not disappointed. Just tired.

—Try 'I'm sorry', he offered. Try 'I was protecting you'. Hell, try 'I miss you'. Any of those might work. He didn't expect her to answer–he knew better than to push her too far, too fast–but when she didn't even lift her head, something in him ached for her. For both of them.

He leaned closer, voice dropping as his expression softened.

—You should go. To the precinct. Before you leave.

She looked up then, finally, and for a breath, Miles saw past the rigid frame, past the iron-spined Commander the NAVY had made her into. Her eyes–red-rimmed, dry, but so full of ache–held something fragile and flickering. Fear, maybe. Or longing. Or some twisted, painful hybrid of both.

—What if it's not enough? she asked. And for a second, she sounded younger than she was. Not a SEAL. Not an agent. Just a woman who'd spent too long putting everyone else first.

—Then at least she'll know you tried.

He stood with a quiet scrape of his chair, grabbing his sandwich and straightening his jacket. The movement wasn't rushed. It was just him giving her space. Giving her time. But he paused at the edge of her desk, his voice gentler now.

—I'll take care of Champ, he said. Don't worry about him. You just... figure out how to stop shutting out the people who give a damn about you.

Alexis didn't reply. She didn't nod. Didn't argue.

But as he walked away, she reached–slowly, absently–for the coffee he'd left behind. Cradled it between her palms like it might anchor her to the moment. Her eyes stayed fixed on the desk, but something about the line of her shoulders shifted. Subtle. But real.

And for Miles, that was enough.

For now.

*

MONDAY, JUNE 12

Manhattan — 16th Precinct

SVU Bullpen

05:49 PM

The late afternoon light filtered in through the wide windows of the 16th Precinct, fractured and golden, catching in slanted lines across the worn tile floors and cluttered desks. It painted everything in that particular shade of Manhattan dusk–half-sunlight, half-shadow, all exhaustion.

The bullpen had softened from the day's chaos into something more subdued, its pulse slower, its edges dulled by fatigue. Phones still rang in the distance, a few keystrokes tapped out quiet final entries, but there was no rush anymore. Only the settling weight of work done–or nearly done–and the quiet murmur of detectives preparing to leave or linger. The overhead lights buzzed faintly with age, a low electrical sigh that seemed to hum in harmony with the slow creak of chairs, the scrape of folders being stacked for tomorrow. It was a scene that looked normal. Ordinary. But for Alexis, it was anything but.

She stood just inside the entrance to the squad room, as if her body had carried her forward while her mind stayed behind. Her boots, freshly polished, caught the light where she shifted her weight; her posture was rigid, the seams of her uniform jacket pulled crisp across her shoulders. She looked composed, perfectly composed—but only on the surface. The dark blue of her formal dress blues felt heavier than usual. The silver insignia on her chest glinted coldly beneath the low lights, not as a badge of pride, but as a reminder: she'd been built to hold the line, to follow the mission, to put the work first. She'd worn this uniform during briefings in D.C., during deployment extractions, even at funerals. And now she wore it here, in a room where no one else had ever needed to see her like this. Not like this.

Today, it wasn't armor. Not really. It was structure. A desperate bid to hold herself together, to wrap fabric and metal around the parts of her that still felt cracked from the inside. The lines of her uniform might've been pressed and perfect, but the storm building behind her ribs couldn't be smoothed out with starch and discipline. Not now. Not after the way she'd left things. Not when the one person she needed to see might not even want to look at her.

Still, she stood there, motionless, her hands hanging stiff at her sides, fingers twitching once before she clenched them into stillness. Her eyes scanned the bullpen not with a soldier's sweep, but with the hesitation of someone who didn't know where she belonged anymore. She didn't move forward. Didn't call out a name. Just waited–hoping for something she hadn't let herself name. Not yet.

She spotted them before she was ready. Near the back, just outside Olivia's office, where the light from the windows met the edge of shadow. Robbins stood with one hand braced casually on the doorframe, his body angled just enough to close the lieutenant in, but not enough to be inappropriate. His suit jacket hung open, his ID still clipped to his belt, and he was smiling that easy, practiced smile Alexis had seen him wear at briefings and late-night post-op coffees. He wasn't leaning in, not quite–but he didn't have to. The tone of his voice, low and almost playful, carried just far enough for Gray to catch snippets. Something about timing. About how good it had been, working together again. About how he'd meant to ask sooner, but the raid and the chaos had pushed things back.

The commander didn't move, didn't blink, but her chest tightened slowly, methodically, like a fist curling inward. She should've expected this. Robbins had always been smooth–charming in that affable, non-threatening way that made him popular with victims and agents alike. He was safe. Smart. He knew how to read a room. And he was doing it now, reading Olivia's posture, the slight tilt of her head, the way her lips pressed together in that not-quite-smile she wore when she was trying to be polite. Alexis could see the moment he went for it–the way his tone shifted just enough, hand lifting in a subtle gesture that looked like confidence more than risk.

He asked her to dinner.

Not in a big, dramatic way. No pressure. Just a suggestion. Just a moment between colleagues who had shared long hours and late nights and the same weariness about celebrating too soon. The brunette saw her friend's eyes widen just slightly, that flicker of surprise, of hesitancy. And then, without warning, those dark eyes lifted–and landed right on her.

It was only a second. Maybe less. But in that second, Alexis saw everything.

The recognition. The shift in Benson's spine, shoulders drawing back just enough. Surprise, then something colder. Not indifference–but distance. And before the agent could step forward, before she could open her mouth or even find air, she saw the oldest woman turn back to Robbins, smile–small, polite, but real–and nod.

—Sure, Olivia said, voice too soft for Alexis to hear, but the shape of the word was unmistakable. Dinner sounds nice.

The SEAL didn't move. Her feet felt bolted to the tile, her pulse echoing somewhere behind her ears. It wasn't the dinner. It wasn't even Robbins. It was what it meant–that Olivia had looked at her, had seen her, and still chosen someone else. Maybe not forever. Maybe not even consciously. But in that moment, the lieutenant had made her choice.

The brunette swallowed, her throat thick and dry. She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just stood there in her perfectly pressed uniform, back straight, insignia gleaming, jaw locked so tight it ached. There was no scene. No confrontation. No dramatic retreat. Just a quiet, invisible unraveling–one thread at a time.

She turned, eventually. Walked away with measured steps, not fast, not slow, her boots clicking faintly on the tile as the precinct moved on without her. She didn't speak. Didn't look back.

She didn't get what she came for. But she still had a plane to catch.

*

*BONUS SCENE*

MONDAY, JUNE 12

Washington D.C.

09:38 PM

The streets of Washington carried a quiet that was nothing like Manhattan's chaos. It wasn't peaceful, not really. It was too curated, too clean. The silence felt pressed into the concrete, as if the city itself demanded composure from everyone who passed through its corridors of power. The air here was thicker, heavy with moisture and memory, scented not with the pulse of life and motion like New York, but with something older–stone worn smooth by storms, the distant hum of bureaucracy, the faint, metallic sting of ambition. Government buildings rose in stoic lines in the distance, their windows catching slivers of the dying light, their shadows long and precise beneath the soft spill of lamplight. It was the kind of city where things happened behind closed doors, and if you stood too long in one place, the weight of it might settle in your lungs.

Alexis stood at the edge of a block she hadn't thought she'd see again, not like this. The townhouse in front of her hadn't changed much. Still ivy curling over the railing like it belonged there more than the mail. Still a porch light left on, more from habit than expectation. It looked lived-in, but distant. Familiar, but not hers. She didn't move, not at first. Just stood there in the cool dusk, hands tucked into the too-long sleeves of a navy sweater she didn't remember packing. Her jeans were worn in the knees, not from fashion but from time, and her boots were silent against the stone. She felt small here, not in stature, but in presence–like a shadow waiting for permission to be real again.

There was no badge clipped to her belt. No holster pulling at her ribs. No patches, no medals, nothing sharp to remind people she was built to carry pain and deliver order. Just cotton and denim and silence. Civilian. Untethered. She'd traded steel for softness, and still, it didn't make her feel any less breakable. The weight she carried didn't rest in her hands or shoulders–it pressed inward, behind her ribs, where heartbreak had carved a space and refused to leave.

She hadn't expected it to cut this deep. Hadn't expected Olivia to look at her like that–like a stranger. Like a polite footnote in her day. One brief glance, a nod, and then that quiet smile when she said yes to someone else. Robbins. Of all people. It was almost laughable, if it hadn't felt like being punched in the chest by something she didn't know how to name. She had stood there in uniform, ready to explain, to apologize, to fight–and instead, she'd watched it all slip out of reach.

So she came here. Not because it made sense, but because instinct dragged her. Because when you had nowhere left to fall, sometimes you circled back to the places that first taught you how to stand. And this city, this address, this door–it knew who she used to be. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was all she had left.

The porch creaked beneath her boots as Alexis finally moved forward, the old wood groaning like it remembered her weight. Her hand hovered for a moment above the doorbell, knuckles tight, breath caught somewhere just behind her collarbone. It had been years–long enough for this visit to feel unannounced, maybe even inappropriate. But still, her fingers found the button, pressed it once, then stepped back like she needed space to brace for whatever would come next. The chime echoed softly inside. And then silence.

Her heart beat too loudly in that quiet. Not the tactical rhythm she relied on during raids or interrogations–but something more brittle, more uncertain. She could still feel Olivia's face in her mind, clear as glass. That gentle smile. That nod. That soft Sure as she accepted another man's invitation. Not cruel. Not angry. Just... final. And the commander couldn't shake the feeling that she'd missed her moment. That she'd held out too long behind duty and protocol and fear. That she'd given her silence when what the lieutenant had needed was truth.

The lock turned from the other side of the door.

When it opened, the hallway behind it looked exactly the same–warm, narrow, a little cluttered. Familiar in the way old safety nets are. The woman who appeared in the frame was older now, but not by much. A few more lines around her eyes, her hair pulled into a loose bun, a phone still in one hand, thumb hovering mid-text. She stopped when she saw Alexis, blinking like a memory had just stepped out of the past.

—Alex? she said, voice halfway between confusion and recognition. Her tone wasn't sharp, but it carried the weight of years–good and bad–compressed into a single name.

The SEAL gave a small, uneven smile and rubbed the back of her neck, sheepish in a way that didn't suit her broad shoulders or quiet intensity.

—Hey, she said, the word soft, like it didn't quite know where it belonged. You got room for an old friend?

The woman stepped back without hesitation, not a flicker of doubt in her eyes as she moved aside and let the door fall open wider. She didn't say anything at first–didn't ask why Alexis was there, or why her voice had sounded like it hadn't been used in hours. She just looked at her, really looked, in that way only someone who'd once known you better than you knew yourself could. There was no dramatic embrace, no gasped reunion. Just the quiet permission offered by someone who understood that sometimes, returning didn't require words.

Only space.

—For you? Always.

*

TAGLIST: @certainlysleepy @ginasbaby @nciscmjunkie @thefatobsession @makkaroni221 @hi-i-1 @kiwiana145 @kobayashi-fr @alexis042499

[fluorescentpipedream]

Tracii stood on the edge of the breaker, looking over the pier's edge, watching the waves crash ahead of him. While his eyes seemed fixed on the roiling tide, his mind was far and away from it all. He hadn't meant to be this transfixed on anything, and least of all a woman.

He had a million things on his mind at any given time these days, trying to keep track of "Joey's Kids" as they were called and of one he had once been considered. They were a ragtag bunch of homeless kids living in an abandoned car park in Avenue D, most of them scattered like rats whenever the police, who dared come down there, would appear, only coming out again when they were sure the coast was clear. It was him, Caps, Erin and Myuki who were the so-called "originals" and the ones in charge now that the damned DEA agent had taken Joey out. No one knew what happened to him, and it wasn't in their best interest to poke their noses into anything either. For his part, Tracii had been living in Alphabet City most of his life. He had turned up there from unknown parts when he was only a young boy and immediately ran down with the vagabonds. He had the soft puppy eyes that got him the most attention and the most sympathy, but he was also kind and gentle. As he'd grown up, he'd found a knack for sleight of hand and was the best at ripping off foreign and local businessmen; he even walked away with the Rolex once. Of course, everything he got was taken back and hocked for whatever he could get for those younger or sicker than himself.

It was a mess down here; anyone with redeeming qualities was often lost among the rest. Phyre, Shadow, and Rockefeller...all made-up names in most cases meant to hide themselves among the rest of the garbage, it worked for everyone and no one simultaneously. If you needed drugs, you went looking for Shadow, a former pharmaceutical genius now working with chemicals that could either destroy a whole block in noxious fumes or keep the kid down the road from dying of pneumonia. Phyre could get you the dangerous shit and somehow he managed to do it with the grin you'd never trust. Rockefeller was the devil himself but if you wanted a fuck, he could get it for you, no matter what it was. No questions. There were never any questions, and you would NEVER want the answers if there were. Tracii had talents of his own; one moment he was there, and despite his 6.5ft and relatively muscular frame, he'd be gone the next. He was a runner for Shadow and Phyre, often disappearing into the crowd the moment you turned around. But despite everything, he had a heart of gold and did whatever was in his power, or sometimes beyond it, to ensure those around him were cared for. That was the rule down here: you take care of your people.

Alphabet City existed in two worlds. One was the gentrification brought on by the richer people moving into the first four avenues, but anything past Avenue D wasn't acknowledged. Anything past M was a nightmare, lovingly or threateningly called the Narrows. And for good reason. Rockefeller lived on O. Police wouldn't go past M. And if you lived any lower than that, no, you didn't.

Rhianna, her mother, and siblings all lived in one of the more damaged buildings near the border of D and E. And for the most part, Tracii had lived in it as well, if he ever truly lived anywhere. At least that was until a few months ago. Rhianna had been the first and probably the only member of her family to be accepted into college. Now she was living in the dorms at New York University and going to school for something to do with law, but he wasn't entirely sure. But she was like so many others down here, she wanted to be better than where she came from and wanted nothing more than to get her mother and seven siblings out of the hell they lived in. Tracii had stayed a bit longer, but their relationship faded like a light after a while; they're friends more than they were ever lovers. Granted, Rihanna did have a bit of a possessive flare when it came to him, but that was true about a lot of things down there. You find your people and you keep them.

Tracii rolled back on his heels, holding onto the bar and leaning into the strong wind that blew his hair back, squinting his eyes against it, he was still focused on the waves. The sky was getting darker, it was going to start raining soon, and he was supposed to be making sure the younger kids would be returning soon. How the hierarchy worked was tricky for an outsider to understand, but they all had their purposes. Caps and Robin were up near Central Park this week, trying to elicit some kind of sympathy from people, though it might have been real, Caps was getting sick again. Robin was relatively new to the game; he had been a stockbroker when some massive firm took a header and face-planting, taking everyone with it, and now he was slumming it with everyone else. Erin was in the art district, trying to sell his paintings though there was another mess associated with him, Honestly these days Tracii couldn't keep track of what his friend was going through. The older ones were living on Avenue A and taking what they could get when they could. As for Tracii's mind, it was still flitting around, focusing where it shouldn't be more often than not.

Her name was Alana; that was all he knew of her besides her being Rhianna's roommate. There had been some animosity there originally; she was a pretty little blond thing that had moved into the dorm with Rhia, and his friend had been short with her for a while. She would wake up crying for some reason, screaming...there was a creeper older guy that hung around her and things that she wouldn't tell anyone about who she was, where she came from, or what was going on. It had taken Rhia's mother, thwapping her with her shoe to knock some sense into her, before she'd started talking to her roommate and spending more time with her, that something had finally broken. She had family drama, which was the best Tracii had gotten out of Rhia, though he knew she knew more than she would tell him about it. Sworn to secrecy, and that meant something down here. It had been a strange break-in at their dorm, nearly everything was gone through, and Alana's weird bodyguard had wanted her out of the school, which had caused Rhia to bring her down to the one place no one would look for her.

"Trust me, when you want to hide something, you put it in the last place anyone will look. What business would a little thing like her have going down into Alphabet City?" Rhia had said of it while helping her newfound friend get packed and disappear, while whoever had been looking for her was hunted down. So she hid in plain sight with Rhianna's mom and siblings. That was how he had met her. When he had been running a dose up to her brother, he'd seen the beautiful angel of a woman sitting on the couch while three of Rhia's sisters were Rapunzel-ing her hair. All that long blond hair was tied up neatly in braids, crossed along the back, and made into something even more stunning. At first, he had been flabbergasted by her, forgetting his mouth was open until Rhia had come up and closed it for him. Something about her was breathtaking.

"She's too much woman for you," Rhia said teasingly, moving around him to get the bags he had brought, which was probably true. Her blue eyes had fallen on him, and he felt like his soul had shuddered. He wanted to fall into her eyes like he would the blue of the ocean in front of him now. He had gotten to say one or two things to her, a simple hello and a very brief introduction, before all of the kids had clamored for him and they were overwhelmed, all hellos and nice to know yous lost to the insanity of that way too full apartment. He had said he would come by again, but never got a chance to. That was a week ago, and he still hated how he'd been rushed around and unable to get what he wanted to say to her. She was stunning, beautiful, and lost...she'd never want something like him.

Hearing a crack of thunder, Tracii suddenly pulled himself out of where he was and back into reality. Pulling his mass of hair out of his face, he put his thumb and index finger in his mouth and let forth a shrill whistle, which automatically got the attention of a few of the little ones milling around in the sand. When it stormed like this, they went to Milly's for dinner. Now that woman was an angel...probably literally too. As he scooped up one of the smaller girls and set her on his shoulders, he smiled. He still wanted to talk to Alana. She and Rhia were back at the dorms, and if he remembered correctly, Rhia had told her mother she would be in the library all night; she had some research to work on for one of her classes.

In another hour, Tracii stood outside the dorm room with a plastic bag in one hand and the other hand, having just knocked on the door. He looked like a delivery guy, and he knew that. His hair was wet and held back with the help of a very old pink and orange scrunchie. His eyes were bright, but there was still that hesitation. He was nothing and no one. This woman was something, and everyone but him seemed to know it. He just wanted to know her.

He knocked again.

[kookieswan]

Red light snippet!

Here’s this. Idk where it is in the timeline but certainly down the line.

Note for big spoilers if you haven’t read the main story. Teehee. Also, slight nsfw/18+ content!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“I don’t trust him.” Hoseok watches you, nearly pouting as he crosses his arms. It takes everything you have not to smile as he grumbles. The Nightmares hair falls into his eyes, long and slightly wavy; he looks rather handsome. Tapping your pen against the clipboard in your lap, you humor him only because he’s yours.

It’s been a very long day. You’ve had to deal with Willams complaining about missing hot chocolate, Namjoon’s smuggling of said hot chocolate mix, and the aftermath of it getting all over your new pretty blouse. Now this-

“I’m aware. You’ve mentioned it at least five times since I sat down. Would you like to further elaborate.” It comes out nearly deadpan. You can’t help it, your lovers protective nature is becoming almost comical if not a little ridiculous. He glances down at your chest, but decides not to comment on the stain.

Hoseok’s wings crack harshly against the wall as he stretches them. A lone feather falls to the floor and slowly disintegrates. The Nightmare turns his head upwards as he mumbles the words out after you don’t react.

“The man smells Doctor. Like trash.” He’s not wrong. The man doesn’t smell very nice but he also deals with garbage that contains questionable items. You sigh, tapping your heel against the white floor. One of your eyes twitch but you ignore it like a true professional.

“…. I will admit that his scent is not pleasant, but you can’t possibly base your judgment solely on that?” Hoseok tilts his head and trains his eyes on you then, his face giving away nothing as he stares. For a man that’s been so docile for you, he’s being extremely stubborn. Your pen thumps against the clipboard louder.

“Silly me. Of course you can. Hoseok, I don’t think Bert is going to bother me. He glanced my way yesterday and looked like he was about to pee himself.” You’re almost certain the orderly is more scared of you than you’d ever be of him. Hoseok’s wings inch closer to you, but you stay where you are.

“I’ve heard him think about you though. I don’t like it.” It’s nearly a snarl. He’s containing himself well considering just how protective he can be; a show of how well he respects your boundless. It would be endearing if you didn’t want to flick his forehead.

“You have your special talents; has he thought anything nefarious?” The poor man, Bert, has only been at the facility for three days. Probably not enough time to plan your murder yet, but hey, who knows. You sit in the chair and wait for a reply. It takes much longer than it should to come.

“…. He wants steal your panties” Oh. Well. That’s not what you expected. You blink before standing up and walking slowly to the grumpy man. He eyes widen slightly but he uncrosses his arms. Hoseok’s body twitches as you approach but he doesn’t move.

Leaning in, you give your nightmare a light kiss on his cheek, obscenely close to his lips. He grabs your waist, hands taught as clearly wants more, but lets you lead. Pulling away, you brush a finger across his cheek with an amused huff as his hands fall. Such a sweet Nightmare.

Turning in your heel, you decide that it’s time to go. You go for the door as Hoseok protests, a breath leaving your chest. What are you going to do with all these men?

”…. On that note; have a good night. Please don’t kill Bert. Love you.”

[gamequoteshowdown]

It's that time again! Here are the match-ups for tomorrow! - Mod Villain (Spoilers For: Metroid Dread, Fire emblem: Three Houses, Slay The Princess, Splatoon (Expansion Included), Kirby's Return to Dream Land, Kirby Star Allies)

Poll 9: "In this world, it's kill or be killed." - Flowey, Undertale | "Hadar sen olmen (Power is everything)" - Raven Beak, Metroid Dread

Poll 10: "Listen, Ephraim. I've always loved you. I've always hated you. I've always looked up to you. I wanted to be just like you. Then one day I realized... Someone like me could never become someone like you." - Lyon, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones | "...You worthless piece of garbage..." - Rhea, Fire emblem: Three Houses

Poll 11: "Mwa-hahahaha... I turned myself into a tiny splinter, waiting for just this moment!" - Exdeath, Final Fantasy V | "Ahem... there's SAND on my boots" - Kefka Palazzo, Final Fantasy VI

Poll 12: "Oh, you would like to hear what we're thinking, wouldn't you? But I think we hold the power right now." - Voice of the Opportunist, Slay the Princess | "This isn't a challenge, it's a tragedy!" - The Narrator, The Stanley Parable

Poll 13: "The wind. It is blowing." - Ganondorf, Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker | "Do not think that this ends here... the history of light and shadow will be written in blood!" - Ganondorf, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess

Poll 14: "What is crackalackin, home skillet?" - The Telephone, Splatoon | "Valued employees… we appreciate your feedback back. However, it will not be implemented this time" - Mr Grizz, Splatoon

Poll 15: "Truth be told, I want to hear the screams of every living being in the universe... Screams of JOY, that is, as they visit my very own amusement park! It'd have all kinds of surprises!" - Magolor, Kirby | "Well then… it seems we do not have enough energy… to revive our dark lord… must we allow ourselves… to fall… into oblivion?.. NO! NO! No no no no no! NONONONONONONONO! NOOOO I SAY! We are the masters of a power driven to the far reaches of the universe, and we have but one desire! Can one such as you possibly fathom how dearly we have clung to this dream across the aeons? How could you! You couldn't! Never ever ever! We who once faced those who were in such fear of our power that they sealed us away and banished us to the edge of the galaxy! US! As if THAT loveliness wasn't enough, they tried to erase our very existence from history! RUDE! Only through our magic were we able to overcome their science and achieve great prosperity! We alone were responsible for stopping that repulsive nightmare of a galactic crisis, yet this is how you repay us! This won't stand! It won't be forgiven! It won't be forgotten! Never ever EVER! Those who called us mad, are you listening? You left us at the edge of the galaxy to be forgotten, then went along your merry way, probably living somewhere pretty and peaceful! But know this! Your future is a farce! You have none! We, masters of a matter most dark, vow to be restored, as foretold in the book of legend, which everyone thought was just a fairy tale! It WASN'T! We have already obtained the vessel that contains our Dark Lord, and he will soon awaken and shower us in compassion! Look! The vessel of our Dark Lord is filling up even as we speak! Now the time for his greatness to enter our world has come! Welcome to a new history! A new age! The age of awesome! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARK LORD! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Grace us, Gloriously Dark Looooooord!" - Hyness, Kirby Star Allies

Poll 16: "It's time, Audrey. Your road is broken. Join the Dark Puddles and give in to your suffering. You have nothing. You are without purpose. Your very existence was a terrible lie. You're a mistake. A monster. Like me." - The Ink Demon, Bendy And The Ink Machine | "Uroboros will be released into the atmosphere ensuring. Complete. Global. Saturation." - Albert Wesker, Resident Evil

[jeppiner]

Low-income living

Sometimes low-income living drives me nuts. It's not the low-income that bothers me, frankly. I rock that. I can make money, food, and everything else stretch for miles. I am a pro at this. It is the fact that probably 7/10 low-income neighbours around here are just....sigh. We live practically on top of each other around here. The walls are thin. The houses are crowded together. Knowing this, they seem to be as loud as possible at all hours. They scream, fight, kick the walls. Three in the AM will find them loudly yelling at no one in the street or partying on their porch literally 6 feet from my bedroom window with all the lights on and music blaring. Drunkenness seems to be normal part of life. Some are addicts living on the streets or in filthy flop houses. They beg right outside the booze store (yeah, right buddy, move on). The others smoke literally right outside your open window, sometimes it feels like continuously, forcing me to shut my windows in perfectly lovely weather. (Why is it that the vast majority of low-income people - who cannot afford to smoke - smoke?) They leave garbage everywhere. Not just packaging though, they leave clothing, shopping carts, human feces on the pavement. and in the plazas. I have stepped into the doorways of some of their apartments. YIKES! They are on public welfare yet they can afford to get their nails and hair done? On public welfare, they can afford to get designer dogs?They can't manage their lives, and so they have kids who become unmanageable, and dogs that become aggressive and uncontrollable. Every teacher I know hates teaching in the local schools because the behaviour is off the wall and very little teaching gets done. I used to be better-off and middle class and we seriously did not see any of this in those neighbourhoods. The odd person might be a bit difficult, but most of them took care of their homes and yards, took care of their kids who were mostly very well-behaved albeit kids, lol. There was no wild all-night parties. Everything was pretty well done and dusted by 11 pm. Nobody puked or defecated on the sidewalk. The neighbourhood was well-tended and trash free except for windy garbage days. There was a mutual respect and mutual aid if needed. It was a community. This place is a transient nightmare. There is a fundamental difference as to how these two groups approach life. I don't know how to explain it either. There are definitely some gems in the low-income group. People who are doing their best, learning all they can, being responsible, and generally the salt of the earth. But those others are marked by entitlement, apathy, indulgence, and other not-so-great qualities. (Yeah, other groups suffer from this too, but honestly, it didn't seem to affect the rest of the community.) And I don't want to hear the "mental health issues" excuse. You cannot equate all mental health issues with rotten character and behaviour. That is a slap in the face to all those mental health folks who are incredibly kind and responsible people. I keep wondering if this is what narcissism looks like in low-income and possibly lower IQ (not very gifted) people.

I just don't know. Their incredible lack of consideration and common sense just astounds me at times. I have no idea how or why they live like this. Even at the height of the Depression, my old Nanna used to say, "We might BE poor, but we don't have to act like it, nor do we have to look like it." THAT seems to be the difference rather than the lack of money. It is an attitude thing. Anyway....just venting. Thanks for listening.

[amberskyyking]

Dying Isn't Very Regulation: Chapter 3

Crosshair awakes from another one of those kriffing garbage-ball nightmares, but that's not new. What IS new is that he's not the only one.

(Or, a self-indulgent 5 9 chapter fic inspired by Snapback by @toomanyteefs with Fives, because I have emotions about this and he deserves the world!)

Crosshair awoke with a start, gasping for breath, horrible visions burning behind his eyes, again. The lights switched on and he winced at the sudden brightness of it all. 

“Crosshair! Are you alright? You’re here with us, it’s okay!” Omega was saying. He registered she was holding his hands tight in her own, and as his breathing slowed, he realized more people were hovering overhead. Hunter, Tech, and Howzer. Of course. 

He groaned. He had woken them up and gotten them all worried about him for no reason.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Hunter asked.

He glared down at the bunk and tried to ignore the pain in his brother's tone. It wasn’t Hunter’s fault he couldn’t protect Crosshair from something like this, but that wouldn’t stop his brother from trying to blame himself for it anyways. “Yes,” He spat. There wasn’t much use in lying about it, Hunter would be able to tell. He was sweaty, there was a cold pit in his stomach and the images from the nightmare were still fresh in his head. The eerie laboratory, the stasis chamber, Echo - 

Echo! Crosshair jerked upright and shoved Hunter out of his way.

“Easy Cross-”

But Crosshair ignored him, it was stupid but he had to see, had to know his brother was okay! That particular lab didn’t normally haunt Crosshair like this, but others definitely had. Wat Tambor had worn that same cold, calculating, cruel expression as Nala Se always did when he fiddled with those machines, issuing commands that made Echo thrash and writhe in that karking stasis chamber! Crosshair had been as powerless to stop him from torturing the ARC as he was against Nala Se all those years ago. He hated it. He hated feeling that way, hated feeling small and helpless against horrible people like them, hated seeing his brothers in that kind of pain!

Across the room Echo stared back at Crosshair with wide, shining eyes and a very wet face. Wrecker sat with him, an arm wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

Crosshair swallowed hard. “Is Echo okay?” He asked sarcastically, but despite his effort, the words came out weak.

“I’ll be alright,” Echo sighed. “Just a nightmare. Probably nothing like yours if you’ve got that thing again.”

Crosshair looked down at his hand. He hadn’t even registered the silver garbage ball clutched in it at first, but he rolled his eyes and chucked it hard across the room. “I doubt that.”

Full Chapter (And Story!): Osik Dreams and Sentimental Regs

[tarnishedspark]

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

All the things? Okay, all the things. ill put in a show more because Long

Unpublished fic summary:

Drift's story is diverted by a visit from multiverse-hopping Cloud Universe Deadlock who shows him his future in the form of the Drift comics, and implies that he'll be killed by the djd if he becomes Drift again. Turns out he kills the DJD instead.

Snippet from a WIP:

enjoy some sparkeater skywarp

Skywarp dropped the empty husk of the vehicon as the glow of a fusion cannon lit up his field of vision and reflected off the energon spread across his hands, plating and slithering tendril lines. "Hey Megs," Skywarp greeted, a note of fear slipping into the familiar greeting, "This isn't what it looks like." He slowly raised his hands in surrender, keeping them in view. The briefest glimmer of confusion touched the disgust on his leader's visage. "You mean to convince me that one of my most valuable officers has not become a creature of lesser bots' nightmares, as you are kneel here drenched in the lifeblood of one of your subordinates, the picture of a creature of tales of yore, having consumed your victim's very spark?" Megatron replied. "Okay maybe it is what it looks like," Skywarp conceded.  Megatron's laughter boomed through the small meetingroom space. His fusion cannon powered down. Everyone else behind him shuffled uncomfortably.

Favourite piece of dialogue from WIP:

Somethin from the next chapter of Gladiator Hours . Definitely spoilers.

Ravage sniffed around them some more. "What <em>is</em> that smell? I can hardly get any of your scent past it." "Scented oil." "Oh, la-di-da mister fancy bot." "Oil: was free." "I guess a city bot like you can't go around smelling like actual garbage forever. What would your fellow fancy job bots think?" "Soundwave: gladiator," Soundwave huffed again. The gladiator pits were hardly anyplace fancy, let alone pleasant smelling. "Smell: irrelevant. Better than anyone else without scented oil."  Ravage looked up into his visor with a mischievous glint in his optics. "Not content to <em>smell like a warrior</em>, then?" Of <em>course</em> Ravage had heard about that. Why <em>wouldn't</em> his embarrassment have been spread to the furthest corners of the planet, to be known even by those who had been expelled from civilisation.

Something angsty from your WIP

hmmm probably Too spoilersy to take smth from Gladiator Hours again here. Let's pick out a different one... Oh yes, this one is slmost 100% angst. Working title "grounded"

He stopped before the large door. Megatron's quarters had remained empty since their leader's demise. Soundwave doubted anyone had entered. Likely no one even knew they could. Soundwave palmed open the door and engaged the lock behind him. Within, the room was untouched. It could have been any other day he came to spend time with the warlord, were it not for the darked lights and the eerie emptiness. Soundwave climbed up on the berth, a large space that felt cold and exposed, and clutching a large pillow close curled in on himself. His best friend was gone. Laserbeak was far away, living a new life. All he had left were the few remaining frayed threads of the Cause. He didn't know if they were even worth holding onto.

Something soft/fluffy from your WIP:

you have No Idea how hard it was to find a bit I've actually written already, i think i went through every wip. have some cyberverse Soundwave x hot rod, featuring a song by Aerosmith

It was a long transport trip Soundwave was taking him on. At some point Hot Rod fell into recharge, stretched across an entire bank of plush seating. It was the most comfortable he had been in longer than he could remember. When he awoke he found Soundwave sitting opposite him, watching with an intensity that only Soundwave could manage. From Soundwave's speakers, an Earth song was quietly playing. 🎵Don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby, And I don't want to miss a thing🎵 Hot Rod blinked. 🎵'Cause even when I dream of you, The sweetest dream will never do, I'd still miss you baby, And I don't want to miss a thing🎵 "Aww, you missed me too?" Hot Rod asked, sitting up excitedly. The music cut off with a startled record scratch. "Of course not," Soundwave replied dismissively. A contradictory squawk came from the cockpit. "Perhaps a bit," Soundwave conceded, shuffling his feet nervously. Hot Rod grinned. He didn't know how much he had needed to hear that until he did.

Something romantic/hot or sweet:

okay we're going with this for "hot" because i have spent so long looking for snippets already this will do

Starscream was left with a scene of carnage and limbs. Soundwave moved amongst it all, his data cables extended and their claws ripping savagely at targets Starscream was sure the mech couldn't even see. His broad arms deflected blows and blaster fire alike as he moved and dodged and weaved expertly through the fray. ::Stay down:: Soundwave commed, casting a pointed glance in his direction. Starscream's wings raised indignantly, but he quickly pulled them back down again as blaster fire passed close overhead. The next thing he knew, Soundwave was ontop of him. Deft digits passed across his frame, checking for injuries. While Soundwave had effectively cleared the nearby area, Starscream was anxious not to be caught by surprise again. Raising one arm, he fired one of his rockets into the throng of enemy forces. The Autobots exploded in an eruption of flame and light. Finding only the scorch mark on his wing and a few scrapes and dents from the crash, Soundwave pulled Starscream to his feet. Perhaps it was the thrill of battle, or the buzz of energon in his lines, but Starscream couldn't help notice the rise of charge in his frame as he brushed up against the communications chief. This absolute beast of a mech who handled him with such care. That was something he would have to address later.

Something funny/cracky:

Earthspark post- season 1 Shockwave is just here now too.

"Mrrr,” Shockwave rumbled. A cow lowed in refurn. "Mrro." Shockwave mooed. "Hey Shockwave, what're you doing?" Thrash questioned, watching the scientist skeptical. "I am attempting to decipher these creatures' language." Shockwave replied, listening intently to the sounds the herd made. "You mean we'll be able to tell what Fluffyears is saying? That's so exciting!" Hashtag declared, popping up out of seemingly nowhere, "What are they saying right now? How long until <em>we</em> can learn to speak cow too?" "It may take some time. They do not appear to have a defined sentence structure."

A fic concept:

Star trek: the motion picture crossover with transformers. The planet Voyager went to was Cybertron. Crossover with the rest of star trek. Make Shockwave and Spock meet and make them tell eachother they're being illogical. I don't know what would happen here but I am sure there is fun to be had.

sum up a wip with tropes/ao3 tags:

oh this is the part i am Worst at. Luckily I've started putting these at the top of my documents as I think of them to make it a bit easier when it gets to posting time. I have an earthspark soundwave/swindle wip here with the following listed: developing relationship, annoyance to lovers, Swindle being Swindle

phew that took A While

[bereft-of-frogs]

is friday. have a list.

reading:

(finished) Notes on an Execution - Danya Kukafka: Still excellent, still thinking about the ending

(in-progress) The Great Transition - Nick Fuller Goggins: I got this from the person who runs the horror book club I go to. The blurb compared it to Station Eleven, perilously high praise, but I'm weirdly enjoying it. Weirdly because I was afraid the structure would get annoying and weirdly because it's doing a bunch of things I usually find annoying but I'm not annoyed? I think it's because even though there's a lot of social justice themes, it never really feels like the characters are lecturing at the reader. Like there have been some scenes where characters are lecturing other characters - but so far they've all felt like they were more about revealing about the characters and their relationships rather than being like 'see, I know about solidarity, look how good a person I am!' I also really like that the exposition is being given through one of the POV characters (a high school student)'s essays, which have comments from her teacher and the comments are all PERFECT - and sure enough the author's day job is as a teacher. XD

(finished) Light of the Jedi - Charles Soule: still not my favorite, but it does pick up once you get past the first part. I think the narration of that action goes on for a bit too long and doesn't leave much space to take in the characters or setting because so much is happening, one thing after another. But, as I said last week, infinitely better than doomscrolling

(in-progress) Into the Dark - Claudia Gray: Ok the thing about Light is that I didn't really care about any of the deaths in it....until this book made me care. I think Gray is just a little bit more adept at character writing, I really started to fall in love with the High Republic and its characters in this book. I am sad though, given I'm probably going to have to skip Midnight Horizon to avoid getting derailed again, this might be where Reath and I part ways. I ended up loving Reath so much! But alas! Midnight Horizon was not my cup of tea, so I will have to say farewell.

(in-progress) Lord of the Rights chapter-a-day reread: Pelennor Fields today. DEAAAATTTHHH!!!!

watching (tv):

(finished) Silo (Apple TV): WHY am I still thinking about that finale?? why was that so good? WHEN is season 2 coming out?

(in-progress, rewatch) Altered Carbon (Netflix): to stop myself from just watching dumb commentary youtube videos while I'm cooking/eating dinner/etc I started rewatching Altered Carbon and damn it's just so good. I'm almost finished with the first season, I know the second is controversial/isn't quite as good but I still enjoyed it so will continue on

I'm in kind of a hangover post-Silo for the show I watch as part of my bedtime routine. I watched 2 episodes of Foundation and precisely 30 minutes of Severance before I fell asleep last night (I was just really tired because a certain Void Creature had me up at 5AM, not Severance's fault), so idk which I'm going to continue on with. Probably Severance, I'll get back to Foundation eventually.

watching (film):

The Strangers (2008): That scene where Liv Tyler is smoking in the kitchen and the intruder is standing unseen in the background is my LITERAL NIGHTMARE.

Hell House LLC II: The Abbadon Hotel (2018) and Hell House LLC III: Lake of Fire (2019): This is such a bizarre series because the first is slightly above-average found footage, the fourth is actually surprisingly scary, and the middle two are SUCH hot garbage, but. Completionist. I have seen them all now. The best scene in the third is with the cultists/demons scuttling around and I realized why it makes me laugh, they remind me of the wraiths in What We Do in the Shadows XD

Dune Part 2 (2024) - I SAW DUNE AGAIN IT WAS STILL GOOD. Aside, is Austin Butler in something the Youths (TM) like? Because I only know him from the awful Elvis movie I suffered through last year. The girl selling my ticket was like 'yeah I've seen it twice as an audience member and then I keep going up to the projection room to watch the duel because Austin Butler *heart eyes*' and I was like.....him? Really? Are the kids just horny for Harkonnens? I have questions.

video game update: I'm unstuck on cult of the lamb! I had the run of my life and got past the underwater level, it was great.

craft update: Skein still tangled, don't want to talk about it. But I've finished the short rows on the sweater vest and am onto the repetitive part! The next real milestone will be getting to where it joins the back under the arms, and I no longer have to purl. I can't wait.

weekend list -- just kidding it's a WEEK list because I'm on vacation! (technically I am dogsitting but I'm still taking a week off from work to go hang out with a dog, so that counts as vacation):

focus up to get through the workday. friends, it is 11AM and that is not going well, let me tell you

go for a run

pack / tidy up apartment so I don't come back to wreckage

non-writing things to do while at parents' house:

many walks! dog cuddles!

try out their fancy peloton thing, see what this cult thing is all about

knitting - planning to work on sweater vest, despite the fact that it is black and my parents' dog is so, so yellow... (she's a yellow lab)

laundry. so much laundry. everything that is in my apartment that can be put in a washing machine, is being brought. We've got sheets, we've got towels, bath mats, etc etc. My parents are paying me for dogsitting services in water usage.

read: I'm bringing 3 books I took out of the library yesterday which seems...ambitious...but maybe doable if I-

--don't scroll. seriously. I've blocked so many things, if I can just stick to occasionally checking my tumblr dash and maybe pinterest once in a while, I can get so much else done

writing to-do:

main project: longfic I am tentatively calling 'the station' (probably will change but this is at least better than my last working title which made no sense so I'm keeping it for now), I have 25k in a very rough draft, and am on chapter 2 of 12 in the rewrite (about 8k words). (It's probably going to be much longer than 25k, that was essentially just the self-indulgent scenes that came easily, now I'm doing the hard plot work, connecting scenes, etc, trying to go roughly in order so I don't have to do another full draft.)

start on the final part of 'omens and all kinds of signs': ideally finish a rough draft but we'll see, I have not started it at all, but I know it will feel good to finish it, if I can get some of the pieces together, that would be great

rough draft of the third variation on the tattoo theme (I have...900 words so far)

rough draft of an alternative POV to an already posted fic that's just an excuse to be shamelessly self-indulgent (I have ?? words scribbled in a notebook about it)

[wily-one24]

Weird asks: 1, 20, 34, 43, 46

Here we go!!

Who is/are your comfort character(s)?

Hahahaha. Ok. Well. I guess it depends upon the show i'm watching at the time, doesn't it? I mean, I have favourites in all my shows, but my absolute comfort characters, whom I love and invest in...

Veronica Mars, Emma Swan, Samantha Waters, Olivia Benson, Kaylee Frye, Buffy Summers, Jane Rizzoli, Cordelia Chase.

I have previously stated that I have a type and that type is emotionally damaged but hella strong women who are somewhat lackadaisical when it comes to their own personal safety when it comes to solving a case/getting justice (all of the above women fall into this, except perhaps Kaylee Frye, but she is my 'happy face/light in the darkness' lady, all the rest are my 'strength will rise up from the ashes like a pheonix' ladies).

I have many other faves and likes, however, you can pretty much narrow it down to who I have written fic for. These are my comfort characters, because fic IS my comfort. I have so much free therapy because of fic. I've pretty much written that post before (years ago, I would have to hunt it down) about what each major fic in my life was allegorical to... and I probably don't even WANT to know what my SVU fics are trying to break through in my brain, BUT, when I need comfort, this is where I turn.

Edit to add: Hunted!!

Go here to get a rundown on some self therapy in my major fics.

And here for a more in depth analysis of Paint It Black (question 11).

20. Do you say soda or pop?

No. Neither. I'm Australian. I say "Soft drink". Soda or pop? Pfft, get jumped on. It's SOFT DRINK. I mean, if you're feeling really old fashioned you can say 'Fizzy drink", but nobody really does. Soft drink, thank you.

34. Is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Buah hahahahahaha. Like, I think the easier question to ask there is "is there a song you DON'T know every word to by heart?"

I have a few Spotify playlists, my biggest one is called "Sing Loud", it has 114 songs on it, 6 1/2 hours worth, and I know every single word. Because I *DO* sing loud. And, also, it's worth noting that that is not my entire mind's playlist of favourite songs. Just the ones I sing loudly to. I have full musicals I can sing the entire lyrics to, musical episodes of my favourite tv I sing along to, entire ALBUMS from the 90s that I listed to on my Discman to and from Uni on the train...

OBVIOUSLY, I know most Sheryl Crow songs by heart (at least those pre 2010, I haven't really caught up to her new stuff yet), gimme a bunch of Sarah McLachlan, the Whitlams, No Doubt, Madonna, Machine Gun Fellatio, Garbage... anything from the 90s, a BUNCH of stuff from the 80s. I also like heaps of things from the 70s and some from the 60s, some from 2000 onwards as well. My taste is rather eclectic.

You don't quite know the range of eclectic until someone on the train watches fascinated as you take Rob Zombie out of your Discman and swap it for Sarah McLachlan. I got some *weird* looks.

My brain is very lyrically inclined and I remember so many words to so many songs, it's insane. If I like a song, I will listen to it over and over again until I get the lyrics right. Which, I have to say is so much easier NOW than it was back in the 80s, when you had to hover around your stereo so you could press play/record simultaneously the second your favourite song came on the radio just so you could have a copy...

But, yeah, once I like a song and I've heard it a few times, those lyrics are BURNED into my brain forever. That's why so many of my fics are song titles. Paint It Black, Memory Cloud, Wicked Game, Foolish Game, The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares), The White Room, Hybrid Lives, Silver and Cold, Spoonful of Sugar, Breaking the GIrl... etc... and those are just off the top of my head. This is why I used to vid, decades ago.

43. What’s your take on spicy foods?

There's a take? I like somewhat spicy foods.

I do not like stupidly spicy foods, to the point that it hurts and you can't breathe and it's basically a competition of how much you can hurt yourself to win... that's not fun for me.

But I do like a bit of kick. I like spicy thai curries, and mexican chillis, and jalepenos, something that doesn't necessarily want to kill you, but does bite back a little.

I am sensible with my spice level.

46. Favorite holiday film?

TBH, I'm not really sure I have one.

I mean, Die Hard is always a Christmas Classic, I guess? I'm not really one to sit around and watch a Christmas movie or... is there such a thing as an Easter movie? A Queen's Birthday movie? Ramadan? The Melbourne Cup? I don't really know.

(Well, there's probably a few movies about the Melbourne Cup, now that I think about it).

I'm not against them, per se, like if there was a movie on and it looked interesting and it was the holiday times and happened to focus on that holiday, I'm not going to turn it off, but I'm not going to seek out that specific movie.

The only real special holiday thing I watch each year... might be the Carols By Candlelight on Christmas Eve and the New Year's Eve Countdown, but those are not necessarily movies. They're not. One is a concert and one is... well... a countdown retrospective of the year and some fireworks.

I guess the Christmas movies always seemed a little too... faked for me. Maybe it was all the happy families (so fake) or the overly twee messages (please) ... maybe it was all the fucking snow and over the top decorations that seem to be uniquely American.

I don't think I've EVER seen a Christmas movie that represents what I know as Christmas, in the middle of summer in Australia.

@dahllaz

[eerilyfrozenhero]

Of course! Here is the comprehensive blog post rewritten for a Tumblr audience, optimized for its unique format, tone, and user base.

Tumblr Post

(Use a "Photo" post type and place the generated image at the top)

Title: The Tea on the Best FREE AI Face Swap Tools (2025 Edition)

[Image: The infographic-style image showing criteria for choosing a face swap tool, with the title "Best Free AI Face Swap"]

okay so you've seen them. the cursed memes. your friend's face perfectly edited onto a renaissance painting. that one gif of a cat with a human face that haunts your nightmares.

and you're thinking... i want to do that.

but every app you download is either garbage, costs money, or tries to steal your data. it’s 2025, we deserve better!

so let's get into it. i went down the rabbit hole and tested a bunch of these free AI face swap tools so you don't have to. here's the real, no-BS guide to what's actually good.

First, What to Look For (So You Don't Get Scammed)

don't just download the first thing you see. here’s the quick checklist:

✨ Is it actually realistic? Or does it look like a cheap photoshop from 2008? Look for good lighting and smooth edges.

🖱️ Is it easy to use? You shouldn't need a 4-year degree in computer science to put your face on a cat.

💀 What’s the “Free” Catch? Is there a giant ugly watermark? Can you only do it once a day? Know the limits.

🔒 Are they stealing your face? Seriously. Check the privacy policy. Does your photo get deleted or are they using it to train their robot army?

The Official Ranking: Best Free AI Face Swap Tools

1. Vidnoz Face Swapper

The Vibe: The All-Rounder. Best for literally almost everyone.

This one is genuinely shocking for a free tool. The quality is SO good. You upload two pics, click a button, and it just... works.

[GIF: A person's jaw dropping in amazement while looking at a computer screen]

The Good Stuff: Super high-quality results, it's fast, and you can even do videos.

The Catch: There's a small watermark on the free stuff. Honestly, it’s tiny and you can probably crop it out.

2. Deep-swap.art

The Vibe: The Video Pro. For your fanciest projects.

If you’re trying to recast a scene from your favorite movie or make a really convincing video, this is the one. It's built for motion.

The Good Stuff: Probably the best video face swap quality out there.

The Catch: The free version is basically just a free trial. You get a few credits and then they're gone. Use them wisely.

3. Fotor

The Vibe: The Swiss Army Knife.

Fotor is a whole photo editor that just happens to have a face swap tool inside. It's great if you wanna swap a face and then immediately add glitter text and lens flare.

[Image: A chaotic but fun image with lots of edits, filters, and text overlays.]

The Good Stuff: All-in-one editor. Swap, filter, and post without switching tabs.

The Catch: You have to hunt for the face swap tool in the menu, and the free credits can run out if you use it a lot.

4. Pica AI

The Vibe: The Group Photo Savior.

You know that perfect group photo where one person blinked? Or you just want to put your cat's face on everyone in your family portrait? This is for that.

The Good Stuff: It’s specifically designed to swap MULTIPLE faces in one picture. A true lifesaver.

The Catch: Can be a little slow if you’re swapping like, 10 faces at once.

5. Icons8 FaceSwapper

The Vibe: The Need for Speed.

No time to waste. You need to make that meme right now. This tool is FAST. Like, ridiculously fast.

[GIF: A character running at super speed, like The Flash or Sonic.]

The Good Stuff: Incredibly fast. Upload, click, download. Done in 15 seconds.

The Catch: The quality isn't as perfect as the others. You might see the seams a little, but for a quick meme, who cares?

6. Reface

The Vibe: The TikTok & Social Media King.

The OG mobile app. Less of a "tool" and more of a "meme factory" for your phone. It has a giant library of popular GIFs and video clips ready for your face.

The Good Stuff: Perfect for your phone, super easy to share directly to social media.

The Catch: The free version has a LOT of ads. Like, a lot. And many features are locked.

7. aifaceswap.art

The Vibe: The Rule Breaker. For the artists.

Okay, so most of these tools have a bunch of rules about what you can and can't make. aifaceswap is for people who want more creative freedom and fewer filters holding them back. If you have a specific artistic vision (or just want to get weird with it), this is your playground.

The Good Stuff: Way more freedom. Powerful AI for high-quality, unique results.

The Catch: It’s a powerful tool, so you gotta be a bit more mindful of how you use it.

A Quick PSA: Face Swap ≠ AI Image Generator

Someone in the tags is gonna ask.

Face Swap: Puts an existing face on an existing photo/video.

AI Image Generator (Midjourney, DALL-E): Creates a whole new image from a text prompt like "a sad clown eating spaghetti in the rain."

They are different things! Use the right tool for the job.

The Serious Bit: Don't Be a Jerk

look, this technology is cool, but it can also be used for messed-up stuff. so here's the one rule you CANNOT break:

CONSENT IS KEY.

Swapping your friend's face onto a cute animal? Ask them first. Putting your fave's face in a meme? Harmless fun. Using a random person's photo without permission? DON'T. Creating embarrassing or malicious content of someone? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Don't contribute to the deepfake problem. Use your powers for good (or at least for very, very stupid jokes that everyone agrees to).

The tl;dr:

For most people, Vidnoz is the best free option. For wilder, more artistic stuff with fewer rules, check out aifaceswap. Use high-quality pics for the best results, and please, for the love of god, don't be creepy.

Ready to dive in and make something amazing (or incredibly cursed)? You can explore what a truly powerful AI face swap generator can do over at aifaceswap.

[the-firebird69]

Central Wisconsin #farmer becomes first in state to own ‘driverless’ #tractor https://search.app/Neeno

Shared via the Google App

This is an upper midwest state and it's actually required it can't really do anything out there and you get shot at no matter what you're up to they're a bunch of pigs and stupid and there's only after themselves it's a horrendous deal it's not a deal at all and a bunch of garbage it's a joke but we don't want to send to be in it and insisted we're going to have to stop them. Today is going okay he's got a couple big things completed he has his check in his wallet and he has and for safekeeping and he has returned the spokes that didn't fit you got the spokes that fit and people call and ask about their ebike now and they have jobs you're very pleased these ladies need jobs and it's a good job and we do have some style and it's hard but they're getting people into actually enduring through the waiting for call to go through and for them to figure it out and it's nice it's helpful okay today real quick by the way they are going on fast because of the Pope dying a new pope is trying to get in and he's trying stuff here he's trying stuff all over as well and to gain power it's not unheard of for him or no known but that's what he's doing it is a very big deal the pope is a huge position now they scanned themselves they know it's down there it's something and our son said it's all the devils again and possibly the one that Trump will get displaced from so they have a motive to get in there you don't want to lose positions to them and it would be us the empire wants us to and they think that we're pushovers like these guys it'll be a fight with Saturn it's going on now right now and it's very important

Thor Freya

I'm doing the work I'm getting there the pseudo empire is in our face was a big problem and they're monkeying with this guy quite a bit and us neither side can get it done and it's a nightmare it's going to happen though we see it the vehicle is causing tons and tons of people to move manufacturing is up we have the figures ourselves ironically and he says there's other factories but we know about them they placed a lot of orders and today they're placing trillions I think I'm hearing it's billions we already have about 70 million orders but we can do it because it's cast we're making huge numbers of molds and we're casting them now to send them out and we probably won't be able to keep up we have molds making molds all over the place it says he should open a mold factory LOL we all have enough mold for Christ's sake and I said wow that's a unique idea so I'm probably going to do that and it'll be big and BG wants to do it today these things are fast to make you would not believe this idea is so great we can make all sorts of machines that have light armor it's strong and very strong and certain mixes are stronger than others and it doesn't rust and it looks weird like our stuff kind of bulky kind of gets dirty and stays on it and a rude our guys will love it.

Is he bike has a coating in the stuff doesn't stick that good

Bja

Wow this is obnoxious it's going to take like massive massive speed and we're going to have tons and tons of orders I'm getting excited about it this is very happy time for me it's a big change my work will be appreciated I can't stand the stupid s*** they're doing anymore even there people are going to get up and start he likes the stuff a little trim down he'll use the strong version and make is Oshkosh and things like that he likes that kind of stuff he's already starting to figure out that they can use it for that this is great and our friend is helping because he knows what the math is and we're starting to see it LOL yeah we couldn't beat those guys in wrestling and we beat him a little cheating our balls off a lot

Bg

Says he can't wait to get in there cuz no one will be able to beat him he's not very big and it'll end up fighting each other lol

Bg

It's a lot of fun but it's absolutely true

Macs

I can't wait I can't wait there's going to be so many of these damn device he's got to use the left throttle and people switch it over and monkey with it and it's an excuse and BG and her friend here have been doing it Trump too. They're crazy people he says oh this one for Christ's sake and yeah he doesn't like inconveniences

Mac Daddy

Haha he's doing the big bane routine saying your butted inconvenience but Mac Daddy stops him. He really hates it he gets up starts yelling sends orders tells us to f*** off things get abysmal I'll tell you what it he's got power but he says he's small and everybody's going to be a nut house about it and they already are and this crazy here already this is going to be a more mental hospitals no but Jesus Christ we're making these too you have to have license and they manage it open factories we're going to open a mold factory and pump these suckers out you would not believe how many they're very strong they're very sturdy they'll hold him up to probably 400 lb because it is a live load but it always is but still the next one after that is to steal alloy not metal and I know which one I think it is the one that he's bribing about and he has a step to the motor it's gear does not true he looked at him said it's just a brush a brushless but they still peek at about 1200 watts because they're newer and it will seem like it's geared so we get the map they're going to get him a geared one on that other bike but just not a great reason to get a new one the next step would be actual steel as compared to the alloy it's like three times the strong

Tommy f

There's a reason for him to get a new one and it's that this one is kind of inconvenient it doesn't have the right seat although we might change it it would work it's got a throttle on the left and he doesn't want a monkey with it it's not really hard for him to change but it's kind of annoying cuz he's been doing this whole life but I don't think that he would change it that quick it's kind of like if he wears it out and that's kind of hard and he thinks this bike might hold more weight but it's not true and the other one's very solid and we're trying to think of what the reason would be you can get a geared motor okay but this one's fast enough off-roading might be it he might not go off road with this one. Tomato factory saying you might keep this one as a matter of fact I said he might keep this one for doing the road lighting and the other one will be off-road then because when you get Sandy and you think somebody can ruined that's not a bad way to think cuz it's possibly true but they're pretty sealed you're not extremely well see you the weird one is but so that makes sense and if he trashes it he'll have an extra e-bike and really isn't everything else to do with the money and he's going to get a bunch of it you can't get a car can't get a motorcycle

Thor Freya

So I'm right and the steel alloy is not metal alloy and it's still light on that bike has a hardness that is twice as much as the gray iron on the ahora and it's the meelod. It's a hell of a bike it's very fast and the motor on that one is geared no but we will make it weird and it will say it his bike that he's getting will probably go 45 miles an hour with him on it with the tires it has no with the z tire but this new one would go about 60 and he needs it in case he has to go to the airport so we're going to go ahead with that this is great it's starting to work people will see it and they're saying riding his bones and all sorts of s*** and they're having him do it to do what we want through him and stuff like that

Bg

Olympus

[starrz-n-waffl3-fries]

Headcanons that Aspen came up with that are funny as fuck to me😭✨

Hiro (OG Universe)

1. Has a massive caffeine addiction but doesn’t even realize it because it’s just “fuel.”

2. Talks at light speed when excited, and Canary has to tell him to breathe.

3. Used to hyperfixate on Lego Technic sets as a kid—he still has some on a shelf in his lab.

4. Has diagnosed himself with 12 different conditions and refuses to actually go to a doctor.

5. When alone, he talks to his prosthetics like they’re people.

6. Has a very specific playlist for each task he does.

7. Once pulled a week-long work bender and forgot how to use a door handle afterward.

8. Wears the same hoodie for like a week straight and only changes when Canary yells at him.

9. Has a robotic arm prototype that is basically a Swiss Army knife.

10. Collects random screws and wires and calls them his “emotional support scraps.”

11. Absolutely has an anime figurine collection that he pretends he doesn’t care about.

12. Struggles to recognize when he’s hungry, so Canary just throws snacks at him.

13. Will rant about AI ethics for hours if you let him.

14. Has horrible handwriting but writes like a Victorian doctor when he’s in a rush.

15. Gets violently competitive about engineering puzzles.

16. His lab smells like a mix of solder, energy drinks, and desperation.

17. Has set himself on fire at least twice (accidentally).

18. Can name every Pokémon in order but forgets his own birthday.

19. Will start debugging code at 3 AM “just for a second” and then wake up at 7 AM in the same position.

20. Forgets to sleep but will lecture everyone else about self-care.

⸻

Opposite Day Hiro

1. Sleeps constantly. His productivity is negative.

2. Always looks like he just woke up, because he probably did.

3. Has no clue how his own tech works—he just kinda vibes.

4. Smokes weed and then gets deeply philosophical about things like bananas.

5. Cannot cook to save his life. Nearly burned down his apartment making toast.

6. Will put off important work by watching garbage reality TV.

7. Instead of fixing prosthetics, he just duct tapes them together.

8. Thinks about getting to work more than he actually works.

9. Refers to serious injuries as “a minor inconvenience” even if he’s bleeding out.

10. “That sounds like a tomorrow problem.”

11. Will argue vehemently that pizza is a vegetable.

12. Goes to the lab just to nap on the desk.

13. Drinks only boba and sugary drinks.

14. Wears sunglasses indoors because “they look cool.”

15. His workspace is a nightmare. Canary has given up.

16. Somehow always broke. Where does his money go? No one knows.

17. Has so many half-finished projects that will never be touched again.

18. Gets deeply invested in conspiracy theories but only the dumb ones.

19. Has never been on time for anything in his entire life.

20. If given the option between doing something productive or lying in bed for 12 hours, he’s choosing the bed.

⸻

(the first section of these are just facts, so just skip past those-I made the font smaller for those😭)

Ian (OG Universe)

1. Can and will tell you every fact about every sandwich.

2. Has insane maternal instincts, will adopt strays of all kinds.

3. Rejects his godhood but can still hear prayers directed at him (he ignores them).

4. Once got into a three-hour argument about what makes a sandwich a sandwich.

5. Has sickeningly good handwriting.

6. Works a minimum wage job despite being literally divine.

7. Will 100% take his friends’ secrets to the grave.

8. Somehow never gets sick, even when everyone else is dying of the flu.

9. Has a sixth sense for bullshit and will call you out immediately.

10. Does not know how to accept compliments.

11. Drives like a grandma. Goes 5 under the speed limit.

12. Has a hidden collection of cheesy rom-coms that he adores.

13. Can and will casually hold hot pans without flinching.

14. Once beat someone in a fight using a baguette.

15. Smells like coffee and cinnamon for no reason.

16. Is absurdly strong, but forgets. He once broke a door handle by accident.

17. His biggest fear? Becoming like his father.

18. Has never once lost an arm-wrestling match.

19. Will adopt you if you so much as look sad.

⸻

Opposite Day Ian

1. God complex out the ass.

2. If you tell him he can’t do something, he’ll prove he can just to be an asshole.

3. Will talk down to literally everyone.

4. Calls himself “The Divine Gourmet” and refuses to eat anything that isn’t “worthy.”

5. Gaslights, gatekeeps, and girlbosses with godly precision.

6. Doesn’t work at a deli—owns a five-star restaurant and treats his staff like peasants.

7. If he sees someone struggling, he’ll just laugh.

8. Disowns his mortal name—calls himself something dumb like “Ianos the Supreme.” (IM FUCKING SOBBING OVER THIS ONE HAHA-)

9. Refers to himself in the third person.

10. Wears exclusively designer suits and sunglasses indoors.

11. Drives like a maniac.

12. Will never admit he’s wrong.

13. Tells people to “just manifest success” instead of actually helping them.

14. Probably owns a wine cellar despite not drinking.

15. Doesn’t just accept prayers—he demands offerings.

16. Hates sandwiches. Claims they’re “too pedestrian.” (You fucking heathen😭)

17. Refuses to touch cash—everything is digital transactions only.

18. If he were in a fight, he’d just summon lightning.

19. Would absolutely write a fake memoir about how much “mortals love him.”

[stardxstsleep]

All my OCs for my story + short bios

Main characters

Nory

A quirky cutesy plushie and kitty and puppy loving girl, but she's also a little trickster who likes pulling pranks.

Rana

A Tomboy badass "get shit done" gal, she likes motorcycles and sci fi movies and thinks Keanu Reeves is the coolest actor ever.

Hannah

A shy vulnerable girl with a tragic backstory involving her being groomed and treated like garbage by people twice her age. She is susceptible to corruption.

Sammy

A down bad emo boy who loves the band Moondust and wants nothing more than to make out with the members.

The Guild Of Magic

The Balance Twins (Midnight and Noon)

A pair of shapeshifting twins who lead the guild and bestow magic powers to those deemed worthy, they keep the balance of good and evil

Daughter Nature

the daughter of Mother Nature, due to pollution on earth, her body has been weakened, thus the plant chariot she rides.

Kyle Time

the son of Father Time, he carries the burden of knowing every birth and death to ever occur, every creation and every destruction.

Geoffrey

A unicorn centaur who is essentially the manager of magic, being who people report to when magic users are abusing their power, he also crafts the intricate details of each magic user's powers.

Sola

a Celestian who can control light, and as such can change the color of anything, she also crafts pure magic, as her realm naturally grows the material made for pure magic.

Malachi

a fairy who watches over the world, often helping find people who are qualified for using magic.

Mitch

a normal human, but he often gives world news to the guild, you should've seen him the fall of 2001

Legion of Evil Magic

Nightmare

a being of darkness, she was kicked from the guild for corruption, and created the legion of evil magic to spread evil to the world. She eats pure magic and turns it into dark corrupted magic

Loana

Nightmare's best friend and right hand fairy, she mainly wants to destroy and abolish magic, thinking overcorruption can destroy it.

Lucane

A dark angel who travels around worlds, giving them magic and systems that gatekeep magic, so only those he chose can have magic.

Unoel

a gross toxic monster, but not in the poison way, more in the sowing drama way, causing and enjoying when people cause drama.

Eliza

a human woman who is authoritarian, wants to control magic users, and shes also homophobic.

MoonDust

Domas

The lead vocalist, with the sexy rockstar vibe, he's cute AND sexy. It makes you wish fatphobia wasn't a thing because thats the only thing keeping him from being seen as a sex icon.

Lex

The bassist, Domas's bestie, he's shy and nerdy, probably hooked up with several men.

Meteor

the guitarist, puts up a douchey heavily tatted look but hes really just a silly guy, and despite the fact he looks like he sleeps around with groupies, he is really scared of groupies.

Kai

the drummer, also a dj. She dresses like a scenegirl and could totally bodyslam your ass, but she chooses not to.

[bellsofblueficlets]

In Choice, And Its Lacking

How long had it been since they'd been in one place for longer than an instant? Gyre swallowed hard, staring at the monolith of corregated steel that stood before him.

According to the demon, they'd been trapped for sixteen months now. Sixteen months without real ground, without a sky, without light or even genuine sound. Sixteen months in a place where none of these were necessary to see, or hear, or stand. Sixteen months, and already there were days when he couldn't remember what it felt like, living any other way.

Sure, it was just a garbage can, but it was a garbage can that existed outside their self contained little prison. In it's own way, it was proof that the outside worlds still existed- maybe, even proof they could still be reached.

Soot crouched to one side, eyes narrowed as he took in the change to their surroundings. He couldn't really blame the dust for his wariness, the vortex prison was probably the first place he'd ever felt anything like safety, or peace-

-then again, it could just be the fact that the outside world looked like a roughly sketched outline, against a very faintly staticed background. Compared to the two of them, it looked nothing like real. Almost more like a memory that someone attempted transcribing by pencil.

His gaze flicked to the side, where the scattered debris of the pavement was only faintly visible, and only to roughly a foot and a half away. Beyond this, the world fell into what he could only think to call background noise, a sense of existence without form, or substance.

It wasn't enough, not yet. But it was progress, just the same.

Their prison was the equivilent of an out of phase, ten ton cannonball through reality, traveling about a thousand times faster than a bullet train between both places and worlds. Keeping it anchored this way made as much sense as mooring a barge with chewing gum and yarn, and yet... here they were.

...for a little while longer at least. He was hard pressed to hold the place, tentacles winding and wisping far past where they 'should,' and knew he'd need to let go soon. Just... not yet. Not yet.

His dusty is eyeing the pizza box, and though still his expression offered no change, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. There could be food there, even just a little. Fuck, even crumbs, smears of dried sauce, or bits of cheese that stuck to the sides- It was so *close.*

Soot looks back at him, waiting for orders, and Gyre grimaces, shaking his head. "Can't," He mutters, "We're not as close as it looks." He reaches one tentacle towards the thing, by way of demonstration, and it gives way, reshaping like mist around the appendage. At least it seems to, though from it's place, he doubt anything has changed. Either way, the bits of 'mist' re-converge, and it's like he never made the attempt at all.

Another bitty might have been disappointed. Not his dust. Soot nods, just the smallest trace, still not moving from his spot. He'd been told not to budge, so he wasn't budging.

"Time to go," Gyre mutters, as he feels exhaustion start to grip its talons more deeply. It had taken a lot to reach this point, and while the progress was gratifying, they had a long way to go still. For now, he let's his hold slip, and like dust under a light breeze, reality beyond their prison is whisked away, and into nothing.

Funny, it's almost reassuring somehow. Like something had been off, being anchored that way, and now it was right again. That can't *possibly* suggest additional problems to worry about later, *no...*

Soot says nothing about the lost chance of a meal, just sitting down, and gazing at a point of nothing in the distance. When Gyre had first suggested meditation, Soot's reaction had been... predictable. The nightmare was met with an utterly flat look, the kind typically given someone insisting that it was only polite to introduce yourself properly to the nice fae fellow in the forest, or to invite the friendly neighborhood vampire in for a warm drink.

He'd gone along with the suggestion anyway, and from time to time, he'd even close his eyes. It was still strange to see, to be honest? But he was reaching a new normal of sorts, and his emotions reflected it, so it seemed to Gyre like the meditation might be helping.

One member of their party had been ominously silent through all of this, and Gyre couldn't help but wonder what it thought. He didn't ask, of course. There was no need, since-

{...I think you're hopeless,} It mutters, the undercurrent of frustration and annoyance in no way hidden, {I can't believe I'm stuck here with you. Out of one prison, and right into another.}

-since that.

Beyond a noncommittal grunt, Gyre doesn't answer, just rotating his shoulders, and stretching, lying down near Soot to let the other keep his back. The effort had taken a lot out of him, and nothing more would happen without rest.

---

Sleep offered the troubled nightmare no respite. No sooner had his senses begun to drift than something else began to fill them, cloying, sticky, bitter, and dark.

He'd had nightmares before, since his mage's death, he knew them all too well, a ravening darkness, all hungry teeth and greedy claws. This though, it swallowed him whole, like a careless stone, tossed into an endless black sea...

...and something else began to fill his senses, quickly eclipsing him in his own troubled sleep. It forms like a memory. Reliving... something.

There are opaque white walls, painful to the touch, with a lingering sharpness that spreads like poison, one lingered long after drawing away. The liquid touch of...something... runs slowly down the barrier that held it in, winding a path of wretched magic that trickled slowly down the walls before rejoining it's body.

It hurt... Stars, it hurt... But it was also the only stimulation its prison offered, and it was long, long used to the pain...

The being slowly shuffles the withered husks of soul inside it, as though rolling a handful of shells between its fingers. It's newest master will join them soon. It looks forward to it. It hates her. It hates all of them.

Even now, struggling for her final breaths, she takes from it. Desperate to avoid what awaits her. The feeling only makes it hate her more, keeping the memory of what she'd done to it fresh in it's mind. It feels as though its heart's blood is pulled from it, endlessly. Violating, horrible, wrong. Emptying. Eternally emptying. Helpless. It's powerless to stop her. To stop any of them.

But it can wait. It can-

---

Something takes hold of the lingering traces of Gyre's awareness, and *pulls,* forcefully dredging him up from the suffocating darkness. Dizzy, disoriented, he offers no struggle as he's drawn free, a lingering rawness left in his consciousness from everything he'd experienced.

A deep growl fills him, and despite not thinking he was the one growling, it feels like his own. Slowly coming back to himself, he first becomes aware of the sketch-like existence around them, and for a moment the lack of color, of sound, is terrible and wrong.

Squeezing his socket shut again, he's certain somehow that the feeling will pass, and slowly, it does, his own magic gradually filling in the gaps for him. He doesn't have to open his socket again to see Soot, warily crouched at a distance, watching him. Or, watching *something.*

The growl continues, but this time Gyre is certain it isn't him. With a deep, shuddering breath, he pushes himself up onto his hands, taking a moment more before opening his socket, and looking around. Briefly he sees what seems to be more than one version of their prison, each trying to superimpose over the other...

Then the moment passes, and the glimpse is gone. His sense of self slowly rights itself, and he sits up, sighing, rubbing the heel of his palm against a dull throbbing in his temple. That was miserable. He'd like to never do that again, please.

Slowly, the growl subsides, until what he sits in again can only be called silence.

{...I hate you.} The demon finally mutters, a familiar sentiment, if not quite as seething as he remembers.

"...I know." He hadn't, mind. He certainly hadn't expected the demon to like him, but- that hate. That deep, all encompassing, all consuming hate. It had become all the demon had to hold onto, and the reminder of the only satisfaction it would gain. And sometimes, it must have been all it had to remind it that the rest of anything existed at all.

Near complete sensory deprivation for so long. It must have-

The growl returns, interrupting his thoughts. {I don't need your pity, *smudge.*}

"Do you see me offering it?" Gyre's words are tired, and again the growl fades, albeit more slowly. "I can recognize you went through hell, and recognize it hurt. That doesn't make me suddenly see you as some hapless victim of the multiverses."

"You're part of an empath now," He mutters, rubbing his temple again, "Time to learn the difference between pitying someone, and acknowledging their pain."

The growl fades again, leaving him once more with the silence of his own mind, only broken by a muttered, {Idiot,} though it *maybe* lacked some of the venom of before.

A noncommittal grunt from the nightmare bitty, finally lifting his head to regard Soot again. The human dust bitty still watches, position unchanged, sharp eyed, with a simmering undercurrent of wariness. Gyre gives an absent wave with his fingers, barely a gesture. "I'm fine. You can stand down now."

Soot... obliges. Slowly. He doesn't sit though, watching for an extended moment more, before pacing a brief distance away, and seemed to be deliberately looking anywhere but the nightmare, as though letting the other bitty compose himself again.

Said other bitty appreciated it. He was still a little shaken, to be honest, not just by having sat in the demon's memory- that was rough, definitely- but specifically remembering just how much suffering it had been waiting for the chance to inflict on its 'master.'

It must have had his mage for hours...

Too, he remembered that feeling of being taken from. It had felt so wrong. So emptying, but like emptying something that could never truly empty. It was... cruel. Horribly cruel. No amount of power justified that. Had Rantrum...?

He didn't want to think about it. It made his bad socket hurt, like memory, like tears, trying to fall from a shattered socket, and a dead eyelight. He rubs the spot, gingerly, but there was no salving the pain of an injury that didn't exist anymore.

Giving up, he drops his hand, his shoulders slumping. Assuming Rantrum had... Then what?

{...It surprises you. Still. Your precious mage served me your soul on a silver platter, and it still surprises you he'd add to the suffering of a demon, as well.} Rather than disgusted, or angry, it just sounds... what? Incredulous. That's the word. Its tone is thick with it.

Gyre doesn't answer. He doesn't have an answer that the other will find satisfying, that it won't mock him for, he knows that. He knows what it looks like. He has no reason to doubt that everything the demon has told him was true. His own memories line up with it, even!

But he still believes in his mage. He knew Rantrum. Loved- *loves* him, and somehow, he's certain that his biggie had good reason for... all of this.

...Somehow.

{You... really are an idiot.} No fire this time. No venom. Rather, something almost... sad. Almost envious. As if it wished that it could believe in people like that too. {No, don't read into it,} This, added with a bit of annoyace. {I just feel sorry for you. Trust that blind only leads to one thing.}

"Imprisoned in a non place more concept than reality, unable to escape, with an assassin for company, and a demon digesting my soul while I fail to starve to death?" He asks dryly, unable to resist the trace of amusement to his tone- gallow's humor though it might be.

{Never assume things can't get worse,} The demon mutters. Beyond this? It seems to have nothing else to say.

...The nightmare bitty isn't sure that isn't worse.

---

{You're not trying hard enough,} The demon admonishes, impatience in the tone that filled his mind. {You have almost no experience manipulating magic without resorting to sigils and circles, and fumbling around blindly is taking too long.}

Gyre growls, opening his socket, as though to glare at the demon that isn't there. "I'd think you'd be used to cages by now," He mutters, a low blow, he knows, but how long is he supposed to let the creature goad him? He'd been struggling for hours to gain a grasp of the prison again-

{Days,} The demon corrects, a new ice to its tone. {And yes, thank you, I'm very used to prisons. And very ready to be done with them.}

Days? Gyre's retort falls to ash on his tongue, and he stares at nothing for a moment, finally rubbing the soreness between his sockets, gingerly. The demon was right. With the impermanence of the place, his ability to scribe, glyph, or rune was nonexistent, which left him scrabbling to learn a new way to magic, without book or instruction or anything.

If he was being honest, even the fact that he'd managed to pull them to a stop for as long as he had was probably more fluke then skill- Or at least he hadn't been able to repeat it.

"What is it you expect, exactly?" He asks finally, the words thick with an exhaustion that at least made more sense now. "I'm an apprentice. I hadn't even been an apprentice for six years yet when I wound paired with you-"

{'Wound up,'} The demon echoes faintly, amused or annoyed, it was hard to tell which.

The nightmare bitty ignores him, continuing the thought. "Remind me, how long are mages usually apprenticed for? Ten years? Twenty?"

{Fifteen, if you're any good at it,} The demon admits, somewhat grudgingly. {But I guess twenty five is usually the norm.} A moment passes, then another, before, {Not even six? Really?} A low, irritated grunt, no waiting for a reply. {That wastling mage really took his time, didn't he?} For some reason, the demon seems irritated by this. {And then what does he give me? A fucking bitty. And not even properly trained...}

Give it? Its words aren't lost on Gyre, who narrows his gaze as the demon rants and seethes about what he'd been doing all this time, anyway... It doesn't really match the story it'd been telling him, but the nightmare bitty doesn't interrupt. Who knew, he might actually learn somethi-

{Oh, shut up,} The demon grumbles, ending it's tirade abruptly, {You think too damn loud.} A moment of further grumbling, followed by brief silence, and then, almost reluctant curiosity- or, maybe wariness? {What exactly were you hoping to learn?}

"...Why you didn't already know how long I'd apprenticed." The demon wasn't lying about memories, he was certain of it. So why then-?

Silence, for all of an instant, a cold, warning note to its tone, {Just. Shut up.}

"...You asked."

Neither spoke for a whole after this, while Soot sat without a word, gazing at the wall of endless movement that encompassed the length and breadth of their world now.

Something had kept the demon from knowing Rasmus' memories the way it had the others... Or at least kept it from knowing them as well. He now knew too that it didn't want him to know. But why?

{...Get us out of here, and you'll get your answers. Once we're whole, you'll know everything, and we'll both be free."

Free... Freedom to him didn't mean losing himself that way, but it was the best he had to look forward to. He'd made a deal after all... He'd honor it. Even if it meant-

"I'm not trained for this," He agrees grimly, picking up where that part of their conversation had left off. "And complaining isn't going to get us free any faster. So maybe let me concentrate, if you ever want out of here."

This time, the other doesn't answer, maybe surprisingly. Gyre waits a little longer, just in case, but when nothing seems forthcoming he closes his socket again, settles his shoulders, and extends his tentacles-

{You know,} It interjects suddenly, interrupting yet again, {You have a way to hone your skill sitting right there in front of you. You might try using it.}

...Stars take it. Gyre sighs, and just falls backwards, letting his tentacles take the brunt of the 'blow.' "You," He mutters, under his breath, "Are just making this harder."

{Aren't you going to ask what I mean?} Annoyed. Again. Unsurprisingly.

"...No."

The demon goes quiet, and Gyre waits for it's inevitable interruption... protest, insults, annoyance... But this time? They don't come.

---

While his original intention had been to sleep, that had been some hours since. Since sleep, it seemed, had no intention of heeding his call, he watched instead the weird reality above him for some time, sketched and filled in and... strange.

Trying to focus on the lack of detailed surroundings for too long was dizzying though, and eventually his socket closed again. Too often lately, he found himself tired, in a way that wasn't body or magic. He recognized the emotions, understood them. But he wasn't immune to them.

How different he was now, from the excitable passive nightmare bitty he'd once been. What would his mage think of him now?

It's hard to tell how long he stays this way before Soot joins him, the other bitty sitting against his side. Gyre doesn't protest, thinking instead about the demon's suggestion.

A way to hone his skill... He hadn't asked what the demon meant. He didn't need to ask. It's not as if there was much here that he could 'practice' on, and he doubt the demon meant any part of itself, which by association, also meant any part of himself.

What did that leave then, except Soot?

Admittedly, the demon wasn't wrong. Soot would be a way to hone his magic. Hell, with what he'd learned about the other bitty, and everything that had happened since the binding? There was probably no one better he could have practiced on.

The dust bitty had been remade by the demon's magic, and his existence sustained by his own, for months, and in that time, he'd already permanently altered Soot's magic and- Did that count as altering his soul?

No. He knew the answer. Either way, he was more than just 'attuned' to Soot's magic. The other bitty would be a perfect, pliable canvas for him to practice his art with. He likely wouldn't even protest. Maybe that was part of why it felt so wrong? Or, maybe, he just-

The line of thought is broken, dread coiling tightly within the nightmare at a small, out of place sound, so brief, so small, it could have easily been missed, or imagined. A ragged breath... Not his. Instinctively, he holds his breath, listening for the small sound to be repeated.

{Tar drip,} The demon's words strangely serious for once, despite it's wording. {Your dog's sick. Take care of it.}

Any response the nightmare bitty might offer dies before it can reach his tongue, its words sinking in. Sick? What? He sits up, looking around. At first glance, the dust bitty looks fine, just sitting and meditating. He's sitting straight, breathing evenly, eyes still open, looking off at nothing-

Staring off at nothing. It sinks in slowly that Soot hadn't notice Gyre waking up. Had that ever happened before? ...No. He was certain of it.

Well, no good would come of surprising him. "Soot?" The dust turns as Gyre says his name, "What's wrong?" When the other doesn't answer, he pushes to his feet, approaching slowly, ready to back off if needed- or well, dodge. Either one.

...Soot looks away, his fingers curling more tightly, and Gyre's soul sinks. The demon's right. Something's wrong.

The nightmare kneels before his dust, carefully where the other can see him, even half turned away. He does his best to look him over, to see what's wrong. Him bring a human type dust makes this a little harder, but well, Rantrum was human, the same things should apply, right?

He was pale, but that was normal, he was always pale. His lips though, those weren't supposed to be pale, right? Pale lips... Gyre's mouth presses into a thin, worried line.

"Here, let me see your hand."

When Soot doesn't offer it, he hesitates only briefly before reaching it out, and slowly taking it. He has to unfurl the other's fingers to see what he's looking for, and yes, his nails are pale too. Worse, they have almost a tinge of gray to the edges.

Fear swells in the nightmare bitty, pretty sure that's an extremely bad sign. Taking a shaky breath, he reaches out, gently turning the other's face enough to see his eyes. Pupils, dialated. Not fully focused. And his skin felt strangely chilled under the nightmare's hand.

This was bad. This was really bad. They had no access to doctors, no access to vets, and no help was coming. There was only him and the demon.

How long had the dusty been sick? Why hadn't Gyre noticed sooner? "How long?" Is all he asks, his voice gruffer than he means it to be. He's scared. Stars, he's scared.

The dust bitty doesn't answer, only looking at his hand, still held by the nightmare.

...Oh. Belatedly, Gyre frees his hand, to let him talk.

Soot signs, in 'answer,' "Can still follow orders. Will still follow orders."

Gyre just stares for a few seconds, then asks again, more softly, more firmly, "How long, Soot?"

A hesitation, if brief, before signing slowly, "Since... different."

Since...? Oh. The nightmare's essence. This was his fault, then. Starting to reach out, he pauses short of placing his hand over the other's soul, looking for permission before continuing. The slightest, slightest inclination of a nod, and his hand rests against Soot's chest, as he closes his socket.

He worked through it, slowly, carefully, finding the places where magic had gone faint and fragile, or the balance of it was off, or things just felt wrong. His own magic lingering in many of the places thar Soot was worst off, and he realized with a sinking feeling how close the other was to dusting.

For months now, he'd been making sure Soot had the magic he needed, sustaining him, keeping him alive. More than a year. To realize that for maybe most of that time, his dusty had been slowly dying... Not only was his magic sustaining the other bitty at this point, it was literally holding him together.

"I think you left something out," Gyre mutters to the demon, casting about, gently, to try and find a solution. "Maybe about how drawing out that negativity out would end up dusting him?"

{Something was scraped away,} The demon reminds him, its words dull and flat, and devoid of anything like remorse, {In order to make room for something else, something to make him a more useful tool, in it's place. You took away the something else, and now he's less than whole. Is this hard to follow, little nightmare?}

{Well. You took away one part of it.} It amends, as the nightmare tightens his jaw, {Something remains. Just not enough.}

...Right. The killer bitty essence.

Gyre frowns, and begins healing Soot again, thoroughly, slowly, watching the color come back to his skin, watching his breathing even, and his gaze return to something more like normal- Well, normal for him.

He relaxes a little, seeing that. It meant he could keep holding him together, at least for now. To make extra sure of it, he takes his time, making sure to strengthen every last point of weakening magic.

By the time he's done, Soot is breathing steadily, but avoids the nightmare's gaze. Eventually though, he's the one to break the 'silence,' hands tracing the words without a sound. "It wants use me," He signs, each word chosen with slow deliberation. "Make you stronger."

"And?" He doesn't mean to sound irritated, but the words come out close to a growl, just the same.

Even if it wasn't worded as a question, it wasn't exactly hard for Gyre to figure out the question behind the lack of one, and he had no intention of using the other bitty like some personal pet project to twist and tweak until he somehow got this new magic right. "It can want enchanted muffins handspun by cotton candy pixies too, that doesn't mean it's getting it."

The demon snorts, it's amusement returned. {Cotton candy pixies couldn't handspin a decent enchanted muffin if their sweet syrup depended on it. And if I want failed magic, little drip,} It adds, sounding even more amused, {I'll just ask you.}

{...Speaking of which. How long do you think you'll be able to keep holding him together, unless you manage to repair what's been damaged?}

A low growl from Gyre trails to silence, and finally, a sigh. He wanted to blame the demon, but this was his own oversight, his own failing. And now-

Well. It had him exactly where it wanted him, didn't it? If he wanted to fix what had been broken in the dust bitty's magic, he needed greater control over his own magic. Which meant he needed to practice his own magic. And in the end, meant that to save Soot... He needed to use him, in order to practice.

"..." The nightmare closes his socket, bowing his head. "Stronger," He echoes quietly, resigning himself to what needed to be done. "Yes." Strong enough, at least, to heal what had been broken, and maybe even see the dusty free of their prison. He deserved a chance at the freedom that had been stolen from him for so long...

Even if it meant leaving Gyre alone here, with the demon. Forever.

"...I won't force you." Ever. Ever. He would never take that choice away from the dusty again. From his dusty. "If you refuse, I'll find another way. But... it will take lomger." And even then, in the end, there was no one else who could repair the damage done, was there?

The waiting... seemed forever. It wasn't, but guilt wracked him, asking this, so it felt like it just the same.

Finally, the movement of fingers, there in that nothing space, that offered his answer. "Can still follow orders," He signs, and with every word, the weight inside the nightmare bitty only seemed to grow. "Will still follow orders."

And finally, after a pause that might have been too long-

"...Waiting, for orders."

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