#wax and buffed it and everything .... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iydiamartinx · 2 months ago

Text

OCEANS BRAWL

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Finnick x OC

❝ 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙

𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠. ❞

— 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧

The moment Kaia and Dylan stepped off the train, they were swept into the Capitol’s manicured clutches and whisked straight to the Remake Center. There was no time to process the grandeur or chaos of their arrival—no time to breathe, even—before Kaia was ushered into a gleaming white chamber and handed over to three eccentrically styled strangers who would, apparently, be her prep team.

“Oh, Adonis is going to love you,” purred Valetta, a tall woman with metallic violet hair and eyes so unnaturally purple they looked as if they glowed. She plucked a lock of Kaia’s dark hair between gloved fingers, holding it up to the light like a jeweler examining a gemstone.

“But there’s still much work to be done before then,” Evander cut in. His pointed, pierced nose scrunching as he gave her a critical once-over. He sighed. “Once we’re done, you’ll be the perfect canvas for him.”

“A diamond in the sand,” Serenica added, clasping her hands together. She tilted her head, brows—dyed a cotton candy pink—scrunching in thought. “Or maybe… a pearl.”

The others hummed in agreement.

Kaia bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to point out that pearls came from mollusks, not dunes. But there was no point—they’d already moved on.

“Oh, did you see the boy from District Two?” Evander sighed, dreamily placing a hand over his heart. “Absolutely sculpted.”

Valetta and Serenica giggled in chorus.

“The girl from One isn’t bad either,” Serenica chimed in, her voice so high-pitched it was almost childlike.

“They’re fine,” Valetta conceded with a shrug. “But I still say we’ve got the best-looking pair this year.” She beamed down at Kaia, clearly expecting gratitude. Kaia forced a smile in return. Truth be told, she didn’t care whether they thought she was the prettiest tribute or not, but Valetta’s reassuring tone made it clear that her looks were, to them, paramount.

“Just look at her,” Valetta went on. “And her partner—he’s no Finnick Odair, but he’s got something.”

“No one is Finnick Odair,” Evander snapped with the fervor of a worshipper, then sighed. His gaze returned to Kaia with something softer behind the sharp cheekbones and glittering eyes. “But Valetta’s right, once we’re through with you, no one will want to look at the other districts.”

That wasn’t the comfort they thought it was.

Kaia’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to be beautiful by their standards—didn’t want to be paraded, polished, and stripped of everything that still felt like her.

Serenica squealed, clapping her hands in delight. “I cannot wait to see what Adonis has dreamed up for her!” she gushed, the words ending in a breathy sigh, as if just thinking about his designs made her dizzy with joy.

After that, the conversation dwindled, though the sudden quiet only seemed to sharpen the prep team’s resolve. Whatever superficial chatter had filled the room was now replaced with a feverish kind of focus—as though their entire purpose hinged on making her the most dazzling tribute at tonight’s parade.

Modesty, it seemed, had no place in the Capitol.

They stripped her bare without hesitation and set upon her like a restoration crew faced with a crumbling relic. Kaia was waxed, plucked, buffed, scrubbed, and hosed down with such ruthless efficiency that her skin began to sting, as if layers were being peeled away rather than cleaned. Every tug and prick was a reminder that her body was no longer her own. She was being repackaged—rebranded—whether she liked it or not.

Any lingering shyness dissolved quickly, buried under the sharp sting of discomfort and the slow burn of growing irritation.

At least the thick balm they slathered over her afterward helped. The coolness of the moisturizer soothed the rawness they’d left behind, and for a brief moment, she could almost breathe.

Her skin now gleamed, smooth and unnaturally soft. Even her hair—once wild and brittle from salt and wind—fell around her shoulders in cascading waves of deep, glossy silk. Hesitantly she reached up to touch it, it was so soft. It was strange, almost unnatural, how different she felt—her rough edges polished away, leaving behind someone she barely recognized in the reflection.

Evander gave a pleased nod, folding his arms as if admiring his own creation. “Now,” he said, voice smooth as lacquer, “you’re ready to meet Adonis.”

The prep team excitedly filed out of the room to call Adonis, leaving Kaia alone. She shifted uncomfortably on the steel table where she sat, the cold surface only adding to her discomfort. Unable to stand it any longer, she hopped down, tempted to grab her robe. The prep team had been firm in their instructions to leave it off so Adonis could get a proper look at her, but the thought of standing there exposed left her rolling her eyes.

Great. Probably just some middle-aged pervert who wants a good look before he gets to work, she thought bitterly.

But when the door finally opened and the man she assumed was Adonis stepped inside, he was nothing like she expected.

Kaia had grown used to the Capitol’s garish flair—the neon hair, the glitter-painted faces, the fashion that seemed more costume than clothing. Most of it struck her as absurd. But with Adonis… somehow, it worked.

He didn’t just wear extravagance—he embodied it.

He was younger than the middle-aged stylist she’d imagined. Mid-twenties at most, and so sharply put together he looked like he’d stepped out of a portrait. His hair, platinum blonde and styled in a sculpted coif, gleamed like white gold. His eyes, a piercing icy blue, were framed by shadowy sweeps of silver and slate eyeshadow, elegant rather than theatrical. A series of fine diamond and silver piercings glinted along the curves of both ears, subtle but intentional. And his suit—crisp, collarless, and made of gleaming white silk—was worn without a shirt beneath, revealing a lean, toned chest and the smooth confidence of someone who knew exactly how beautiful he was.

He reminded her of a sculpture—cold, exquisite, untouchable. And yet… oddly familiar.

His eyes met hers, cool and sharp, not lingering with the lewdness she feared but narrowing with calculated scrutiny. He moved around her like a collector appraising a rare artifact, and Kaia had to force herself to stay still under his gaze. Not out of fear—exactly—but something close.

He stopped behind her, silent, then let out a soft, thoughtful hum. She couldn’t tell whether it meant approval or disappointment.

“Come,” he said at last, handing her a robe.

She blinked, caught off guard by the sound of his voice—low, smooth, and startlingly neutral. None of the Capitol’s exaggerated cadence or singsong lilt. He sounded… normal.

Kaia slipped the robe on and followed him through a set of polished glass doors into a smaller, more intimate sitting room. Two crimson velvet couches faced each other across a sleek, mirrored table. The lighting was low, casting everything in a golden glow. Adonis moved like he was part of the decor—elegant and effortless—as he draped himself across one of the couches and reached for a crystal decanter.

He poured himself a glass of something clear and sparkling, his gaze flicking back to her with idle amusement.

The familiarity nagged at her, subtle but persistent, until the question slipped out before she could stop it.

“Are you related to Odessa?” Kaia asked, narrowing her eyes. It was something about the slope of his nose, the shape of his cupid’s bow—refined but unmistakably similar.

Adonis paused mid-pour, then tilted his head to study her. A slow smile curved his lips. “She’s my sister.”

Kaia blinked, caught off guard. He let out a quiet, almost fond snort.

“The stylist you were originally assigned to fell ill,” he explained, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Odessa begged me to step in. Likes to pretend it’s because she couldn’t bear to see a District Four tribute in bad tailoring—but really, I think she just has a soft spot for your lot.”

A flicker of guilt bloomed in Kaia’s chest. She hadn’t exactly been warm to Odessa earlier. “She’s… very kind,” she said softly, the words edged with regret.

Adonis quirked a brow, clearly amused, before taking a slow sip of his drink. “Enough of that,” he said, waving the moment off. “Let’s talk about you. And what you’ll be wearing for the opening ceremonies.”

“Let me guess—something fish-themed?” Kaia asked dryly.

It was tradition. Districts were always dressed to reflect their industries, and for Four, that meant years of glittering scales, seaweed skirts, or god-awful foam fins strapped to the back like wings. She’d lost count of the fish-themed costumes she’d seen over the years—most were absurd, eye-catching for all the wrong reasons. Gaudy, overdesigned, more like aquatic mascots than tributes.

There had only been a few standouts, and even those weren’t exactly tasteful. Finnick’s year, of course, had been iconic. Then there was the tribute from the 49th Games. She remembered that one for all the wrong reasons: strung up in little more than glistening fishing nets, the tribute had practically marched into the Capitol naked.

Kaia winced at the memory.

Please, she thought, not nets.

Adonis rolled his eyes. “Don’t insult me. Fish fins are for stylists who peaked in prep school. I was mentored by Tigris, thank you very much.”

Kaia’s brows rose. She didn’t follow Capitol fashion, but even she knew that name. Tigris was a legend. When she’d retired from the Games a few years back, it had made the news even in the Districts.

“So?” she asked, despite herself. “What are you planning?”

A smile unfurled across his face—sharp and secretive—as he leaned forward, eyes glittering like moonlight on ice.

“How familiar are you,” he asked, “with the stories of your District?”

“A true siren of the sea,” Adonis murmured as he added the final touches, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “You look beautiful.”

Kaia hadn’t known what to expect when he first described his vision. The idea had caught her off guard—most stylists didn’t care to look beyond the obvious when it came to District Four. But Adonis had. And the real shock came when he referenced the very same legend she had been admiring in a painting on the train the day before.

Now, standing before the mirror, Kaia felt her breath catch.

She looked unrecognizable. Ethereal. Otherworldly.

No one would dare call this costume ridiculous.

Her shoulders, collarbones, and parts of her arms shimmered beneath the soft lighting, kissed with the same radiant dust she’d seen on Odessa. It clung to her skin like starlight, catching the light with every breath she took. It drew attention not just to her body, but to the way she moved.

When Adonis had first unveiled the gown, her heart had dropped—at a glance, it looked almost transparent fabric. But once it was on her body, she saw the mastery in its construction. The iridescent fabric, delicate and weightless, was layered with care, concealing where it needed to and revealing just enough to stir curiosity. It shifted hues as she moved, slipping between ocean blue and soft, pearlescent pink, like the skin of a jellyfish just below the surface. She had whispered the comparison aloud, and Adonis had smiled, proud.

Pearls and crystals traced along her curves, draping across her hips, her waist, her collar. They shimmered with every movement, delicate but deliberate. Even her shoes echoed the design—elegant constructs of crystal, chain, and more pearls, as though she had stepped out of the sea itself.

Her hair had been transformed—extended into soft, waist-length waves. Strands had been braided with shimmering thread, and atop her head rested a delicate crown-like net of chains and jewels, mimicking a fisher’s weave.

Her makeup mirrored the ocean itself. Soft blues and violets painted across her lids in seamless blends, edged with sharp black eyeliner that gave her sea-glass eyes an edge of danger. Tiny pearls were artfully fixed to her skin, and just beneath them, faint traces of scales shimmered along her temples, arms, torso, and thighs—subtle, not monstrous. She looked enchanting.

Kaia stared at her reflection, stunned into silence.

“Well?” Adonis asked, stepping up behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror, his gaze steady, expectant.

Kaia inhaled slowly. “I look…” Her voice trailed off as she studied her reflection again.

It wasn’t just beauty staring back at her—it was something more dangerous. Adonis hadn’t merely enhanced her features; he had weaponized them. Her allure was no longer passive. It demanded attention.

“Dangerous,” she finished.

Adonis smiled, pleased. “Exactly. Now remember—when you step onto that chariot, every eye will be on you. Move slowly. Let them drink you in. Be coy, but give the crowd just enough to keep them hungry for more. Can you do that?”

“I… I think so—”

His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed in disapproval. “This pathetic little shy act? It doesn’t suit you, not when I can see the intelligence in your eyes.” Kaia froze at his sharp words—he was the first person to see past her appearance. “Keep this up, and you’ll make the citizens think you’re weak.”

She opened her mouth to protest—That’s the point, she wanted to say. Let them underestimate me. But he raised a hand, silencing her.

“Uh-uh. I’m not saying play all your cards. “I’m saying keep them interested. Be coy, playful—make them want to know more about you. Be a riddle they want to solve.You don’t have to scream that you’re a threat to win the crowd; you just need them to like you.” He explained. “If you want sponsors, you need to make an impression, charm them. I can give you the look. But if you don’t own it, none of this matters.”

This time, Kaia straightened, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. She gave him a firm nod, determination burning in her eyes.

A slow, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good girl.”

For the next hour, Adonis transformed into something between a drill sergeant and a stage director. Every detail of Kaia’s performance was dissected and rehearsed—how to smile without looking too eager, how to wave, when to meet the eyes of the crowd and when to withhold just enough to keep them reaching. He even coached her on how to carry herself in front of the other tributes.

“This is their first look at you,” he reminded her, circling like a general before a war. “Not just the Capitol— The other tributes. Make them think you’re untouchable.”

She practiced until her muscles burned and her cheeks ached from holding the right kind of smile. Again and again, until the awkwardness faded and Adonis, at last, looked pleased.

By the time they arrived at the staging area, Kaia wasn’t just dressed for war—she was prepared for it.

As the team made their final adjustments, Adonis stepped in to smooth down a strand of hair that had come loose. His hands were careful, deliberate, adjusting the flow of her waves with a stylist’s reverence.

Before he could pull away, Kaia reached out and caught his wrist.

“Adonis?”

He glanced down at her, brow arched. “Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice low but sincere.

Something in his gaze softened, as if he could see straight through the polished surface to the fear she fought to bury. He gave her a quiet nod, then adjusted her hand on his arm with surprising gentleness—almost like he was grounding her, anchoring her for what came next.

“Ready?” Adonis asked.

Kaia inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Then she nodded.

In one breath, she let her expression shift—smoothing away every trace of hesitation, every crack in her composure. Her features hardened into something cool, almost regal. A mask of detachment. She tilted her chin ever so slightly, lips pressed into a line that suggested boredom rather than nerves.

As a child, she used to pretend she was a mermaid princess, ruling over sun-drenched reefs and underwater kingdoms. Now she summoned that same fantasy, only the ocean had been replaced by marble floors and screaming crowds, and her subjects were the Capitol elites watching from behind glass.

She wasn’t Kaia anymore. Not fully. She was a siren in silk. A creature meant to be admired, not touched.

Adonis’s lips curled in approval as he noticed the shift in her energy. His grip on her arm tightened slightly—not restrictive, but steady, ensuring she wouldn’t falter in the towering heels he’d selected. Then, without another word, he led her forward.

As Kaia was led toward the carriages, the first thing she spotted was Dylan.

He was already waiting beside Finnick, leaning casually against the side of their chariot. His outfit was—predictably—far less elaborate than hers. A white tunic clung to his torso like it had just been pulled from the sea, damp and transparent in places, the fabric molded to his chest and arms in a way that made it very clear what the Capitol was meant to admire. The shirt was left unbuttoned halfway down, offering a generous view of his golden skin, and was tucked beneath a black leather waist corset that cinched just enough to accentuate his shape. Paired with fitted black slacks, the whole look gave off a charming rogue aesthetic.

All he needed was a tricorn hat and a hook, and he could’ve passed for a pirate.

His blonde hair had been styled to look wet, pushed back off his forehead with pearls threaded through the strands like droplets of seafoam. And then there was the makeup—his eyes rimmed in shimmering blue shadow that trailed down his cheekbones like running saltwater. It was probably the most striking part of the ensemble. Compared to her, though, he looked… simple but at least he wasn’t a fish.

Adonis scoffed beside her, clearly unimpressed. “I told Solene we should’ve coordinated the two of you, but she was too damned stubborn to listen.” He rolled his eyes skyward with a dramatic sigh, fingers flicking dismissively. “Well, I suppose it’s better for you—no one will even notice him with you dressed like this.”

His gaze slid back to her, assessing, then softened into approval.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked.

Kaia gave a firm nod.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Good. I’ll find you once you’re back.”

With a final gentle touch, Adonis made sure she was steady in her heels before letting her go and walking away.

Kaia’s eyes swept across the room, taking in the other tributes one by one. Her prep team had been insufferable at times—chatty, invasive, relentless—but looking around now, she found herself genuinely grateful for them and their efforts.

Without question, she was the best-dressed tribute here.

District One, as expected, hadn’t fumbled. Known for their trade in luxury goods, they never failed to deliver something dazzling. The girl glittered in a crystal-encrusted gown with an elaborate headpiece that caught every flicker of light. Her male counterpart wore a fitted white suit, also dripping with crystals, the fabric pulled taut across his bulky frame. A gossamer cape floated behind him like mist—extravagant, yes, but predictable.

District Seven had predictably gone for the obvious. Trees again. Kaia’s gaze slid past them with barely a flicker of interest.

But when her eyes landed on District Twelve, her breath caught.

The pair stood near the back, shivering. Naked—actually naked—save for black powder smeared across their skin like coal dust. It was crude. Humiliating. Even by Capitol standards.

Kaia had to fight the urge to wince.

Suddenly, Adonis and her prep team didn’t seem so irritating after all.

Her gaze shifted when she noticed movement—a man, older and disheveled, watching the Twelve tributes with open amusement. He snorted, then burst into laughter before staggering off with a silver flask in hand.

It took her a moment to place the face. But when she did, recognition curled in her stomach like something sour.

Haymitch Abernathy. District Twelve’s only living victor.

She watched him stumble out of view, nose wrinkling in disgust.

No wonder they haven’t had a victor since, she thought bitterly. Their mentor’s too drunk to care.

Turning away from the shivering pair from District Twelve, Kaia made her way back toward District Four’s chariot—only to find Finnick already watching her.

His gaze slid over her slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance. There was a flicker in his expression, something unreadable. Interest, yes—but beneath it, something else. A tightness in his brow. A shadow in his eyes. It wasn’t desire. It wasn’t awe. It was something quieter. He looked… conflicted. Haunted. Older than a boy of seventeen should ever look.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

His expression melted back into that familiar, polished smile—the one that made the Capitol swoon. It was almost eerie, how effortlessly he slipped into the role of their golden boy. “You look beautiful,” he purred, but the words rang too hollow for her to consider it as a compliment.

“Thank you,” Kaia replied simply.

It wasn’t the moment to unpack Finnick’s behavior—or his too-perfect smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She had more pressing concerns now. Like remembering every detail Adonis had drilled into her and keeping her performance flawless in front of the Capitol. If she played it right, she might charm the right sponsors—ones who could end up saving her life when it counted.

Part of Kaia still wanted to apologize—to say something, anything, about how she’d treated him on the train. But before she could speak, she noticed the way other tributes were beginning to glance her way. Curious. Measuring.

She bit back a sigh. It wasn’t the time.

Finnick seemed to sense it too. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm toward her with a practiced smile and a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Come on,” he said smoothly. “Let me help you onto the chariot.” He winked, all charm.

Kaia rolled her eyes, lips curving into an exasperated smirk as if indulging Finnick’s flirtation. Inwardly, though, she was grateful. She wasn’t entirely sure she would’ve made it to the chariot without stumbling—her heels were tall enough to make walking feel like navigating a tightrope.

As if sensing her hesitation, Finnick kept his pace slow and steady, his grip on her arm firm but not forceful. When they reached the edge of the chariot, he didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, he lifted her by the waist with effortless strength.

Kaia startled slightly, trying very hard not to focus on the warmth of his hands or the flutter that rose in her stomach at the sudden touch.

He placed her down gently in the space beside Dylan, keeping a steadying hand at the small of her back until she was sure-footed.

“Already making us look weak,” Dylan muttered under his breath.

Kaia didn’t even glance at him. But her smirk turned razor-sharp. “Careful, Dylan—your envy’s showing. I didn’t realize you were waiting for Finnick to sweep you off your feet. Want me to ask if he’ll carry you next?”

She heard Finnick let out a choked laugh at her sass. Dylan just growled low in his throat.

Before the bickering could escalate, Finnick stepped in, his tone gentler but firm. “Remember, this is the Capitol’s first real look at you two. Make it count.”

At Finnick’s reminder, both tributes straightened, the teasing falling away like a discarded cloak. They nodded in quiet unison, slipping into the roles they’d been coached to play.

The opening music began to rise—a grand, swelling anthem that echoed through the cavernous hall. Ahead of them, the massive steel doors groaned open, revealing a flood of golden light and the blur of motion beyond. Through the widening gap, Kaia caught her first glimpse of the Capitol.

The streets were lined with thousands of people, their screams already rising in waves. Cameras swept overhead, spotlights panned across the procession route.

Kaia took a slow, centering breath and lifted her chin.

It was showtime.

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

banner credits: cafekitsune & reveriesources

40 notes · View notes

amymon-arachne · 4 months ago

Text

Currently waiting for the first coat of wax (I'm using cutting board wax) to sink into the wood of my new loom stand before I assemble it. Before I started I thought, oh, I haven't waxed the rigid heddle loom since I got it three years ago, maybe I should do that while I have everything out.

One coat of wax on the stand later, not even having buffed it in yet, I remember how much I hate this process. I'll definitely do two coats on the stand, but getting myself to do a third will be a challenge. My fingers already hurt. I'm pretty sure I did three on the rigid heddle, but I gave up after two coats when I did the Inklette.

As for the loom, well. If I do manage it, I'm definitely not disassembling it to wax it, and it's only getting one coat. But honestly I don't think that's happening.

I'm curious, if anyone else has an Ashford, have you sealed the wood or left it unfinished? If you wax it (using the Ashford wax or something else), how often do you reapply? Do you even need to reapply it?

#weaving #loom maintenance #ashford loom

32 notes · View notes

xxdemonicheartxx · 2 years ago

Text

Why different flights have such shiny scales and glossy coats:

Ice: literally glittered over with frost, fatty foods allow for a healthy supply of oil to the hair and skin

Fire: all dirt has been burnt away and skin and scales are heat treated

Nature: healthy supply of fruits and veggies, the vitamins really pay off!

Light: the sun and also the habit of waxing scales and hair, everything has been buffed to a shine

Shadow: bioluminescent products line the ends of your hair and scales like fiber optics! You glitter and glow often

Earth: being covered in dust and dirt protects the scales and when its scrubbed off they are left glittering, gems and a surplus of minerals are often introduced to hygiene products to leave a glitter on the body (like mica powder)

Lightning: constant dry heat storms whip up sand and literally buff the dragons to a bright glossy shine

Arcane: high magic energy and its constant exposure settles on every surface causing it to shimmer. Dragons included

Water: the scales, skin, and hair of dragons is always hydrated, there has never been a dragon in the water flight that didnt have a healthy looking set of scales or hair due to the hydrated shine they have

Plague: survival of the fittest? Yeah the fittest and healthiest scales and hair!!! The natural clays and humidity of the land is a boon and a bane healing the body but if you have hair you need ti know how to get the humidity to work for you

Wind: nothing can cling to the windwhipped skin of a wind dragon, hair is combed by the breeze and scales shine under its bluster

#this one is for sillies #if you can think of better reasons go off! I’d love to hear #fr #dragon #flight rising #flightrising #headcannons

63 notes · View notes

paytato435 · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: Spider's Web

Inspiration

Donnie agreed to go with Casey and Leo if Casey agreed to help him work on the Turtle Tank. Since it had nearly been crushed in the subway tunnels, Donnie hadn’t been able to decide how to “improve” it. To be perfectly honest, it would have still run just fine; the only things that really needed repairing were the shields, but simply fixing the machine didn’t seem to interest the soft shell. Instead, he had completely deconstructed the vehicle and put it back together again- thrice.

Casey had no idea what Donnie was going for with this obsession, or how he had time to work on it at all with his college applications, scholarship essays, etc, etc… but perhaps that was why he had asked for help.

“We’re taking it apart again,” Donnie told Casey when they walked into the garage.

“Again? It’s not going to be done in time before dinner,” Casey groaned.

“Not with that attitude it won’t!” Donnie cackled, tossing him a drill. “But in all seriousness, it doesn’t have to all be done tonight. I just can’t stand looking at her right now.”

“She looks great though,” Casey pointed out. And he was right. The tank had never looked better. Donnie had gone all out on the tank’s design too. Each exterior piece had been repainted, waxed, and buffed. There wasn’t a scratch on her.

“But it’s just… the same!” Donnie growled.

“You say that everytime and then you put it back in the exact same way,” Casey reminded him, looking at his reflection in the tire rims. “Do you want to redesign it?”

Donnie looked stumped.

“Maybe you should plan out what you want before you actually, you know, make the tank unusable? What if we need to take it somewhere?”

“That…" Donnie looked around the garage for the answer to his problem. Seeing nothing to help him, he slouched.

"I am completely stumped, Junior," he admitted, dropping his head.

"You're stumped?" Casey had never seen him so defeated.

"Yes, stumped. Don't go bragging to the others, but I have no idea what I'm doing," Donnie grumbled, tapping his foot in frustration.

"Now that is a first."

"Wow, that must mean a lot, coming from the future boy."

Casey pinched his lips together. He needed to really keep his walls up around Donnie. Out of everyone here, he was always asking the most questions. He was infinitely curious, and didn't seem to know when to stop asking.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something cool," Casey encouraged. "Maybe you need to work on something new. Set this aside for a bit until inspiration hits."

"Inspiration… that's it!" Donnie grabbed Casey by the shoulders.

"You gotta tell me what I build in the future!"

"You told me not to do that," Casey pinched his eyebrows together in confusion.

"Past Donnie didn't know what he was talking about," Donnie turned up his nose. "But future Donnie is a genius! It would be foolish not to learn from the best!"

Sometimes Casey forgot that Donnie's ego was just as great (if not greater) as Leo's.

Donnie looked at Casey expectantly.

"You want me to just, what? Tell you everything you did over the course of twenty years?"

"If you had a list in chronological order that would be best."

Casey sighed. Oh boy he did not want to have this conversation.

"Donnie… I can't just give you everything. First of all, if you had a list it's long gone. I didn't exactly bring everything here with me."

"You didn't? Why not?"

"I don't know, maybe because I didn't plan to come here in the first place!" Casey burst out, frustrated. "You don't need help from your future self, Donnie, you are literally him! You're smart and can figure your way out of whatever rut you're in."

Donnie sank back a little, looking a bit hurt.

"I'm sorry, I'm not here to solve your problems, I'm just… stuck here."

The statement sat in the air like a rain cloud, its ominous presence daring Donnie to try and argue against rain. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes Donnie made Casey feel like an exotic creature or prophet- if he could just pick him apart in the right way maybe the secrets of the universe would just come spilling out. But Casey wasn't that; he was just Casey. He just wanted to keep the little bit of life before to himself; nobody could understand it the same way he could. He was put off that it would be anything different to someone else. The future had not been kind, but Donnie seemed to see it as a gold mine of opportunities.

Donnie took a deep breath.

"You don't think me having access to my future self's technology would be a boon to us in any capacity?"

"That's not my point," Casey told him. "I don't know what it would do."

"It seems straightforward to me!"

"Our circumstances are different now. If I gave you the information for this stuff, which is limited at best, by the way, you'd just have more questions because there'd be no context for what anything would be made for. Sure, giving you a design for a new tech bo could be useful, but you don't need one that specializes in taking out only the Krang."

"So you do have some information?" Donnie's eyes sparkled.

"I have had enough," Casey answered.

"I'm sorry I can't help you with the Turtle Tank. I'm going to get ready for dinner."

"Hey wait-"

Casey put the drill down and turned to face Donnie.

"What?"

The softshell shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"Okay."

Casey felt a little bad leaving the conversation there, but he didn't know what else to do. It wasn't as if he could help Donnie get out of his block. If there was some tech they really needed that Casey just so happened to know Donatello had in the future, he'd let them know about it, but not before. He wouldn't give that up just because Donnie was having a bad day.

Or maybe a few bad days. It did take awhile to disassemble the tank, after all.

Casey found himself directionless again. Leo was still watching tv, and even though Raph had come out to join him, Casey kind of wanted some time to himself. If he were in a movie, this is where the script would cut to the next scene.

But Casey's life wasn't a movie, no matter how fucked it was, so he decided to do the thing anyone would do when they were waiting for something to happen:

He went to his room to doomscroll on his phone.

Tamanegi

Raph knew from the jump this was a bad idea. He didn't even just have a feeling. He couldn't believe Leo had just decided to go to Big Mama's for help and expect everything to go fine. Not only that, but he was probably going to end up dragging Hueso into it too if something did go down at Run of the Mill. What was Leo thinking?

Of course Raph was going along. Just because Leo was the leader now didn't mean Raph wasn't the oldest anymore; he still had a responsibility to look after his family.

He just hoped this Synth guy was worth the trouble.

When they showed up to Run of the Mill, it was bustling just as usual. Ok, that was a good sign. Nothing seemed to be suspicious yet. But Raph wore his no nonsense face anyway. He wasn't about to let his guard down.

"Wait, I just realized, this is the first time Casey can actually eat the pizza here!" Leo pointed out as they sat down.

"You've adjusted?" Raph asked CJ. He had noticed the kid had started branching out from plain sandwiches and oatmeal, but he was afraid CJ might still have hang ups about pizza. Not liking pizza seemed like a fate worse than death.

To his surprise, the kid gave a small smile and nodded in response. "That's awesome! Wait until you try the armadillo meat pizza!"

Casey's smile fell into a look off horror to show that maybe he wasn't that adventurous yet, but Raph let it slide. He would appreciate it soon enough.

Synth was five minutes late, Raph knew because Raph counted.

The bobcat that Leo had described clopped in with an unusual gait, like he didn't quite know how to walk right; even for a person with cloven feet. He looked around the place cautiously, more like a snake than a feline, before his eyes found the massive snapper.

Raph was a little glad he seemed more uneasy seeing an extra turtle at the table. He didn't want the yokai to think he had all the cards, even if he was sincere.

Leo waved the blademaster over, and he clopped his way across the room and into the booth beside Casey. Leo and Raph sat across from them. The yokai was lucky to be sitting as far as possible from him.

"Okay… on a scale of 1 to 10, how well do you think that grindstone actually kept Big Mama from listening in on our conversation?" Leo opened after Hueso had taken their orders.

The bobcat immediately squirmed in discomfort, which Raph did not take as a convincing reassurance.

"Is that why you brought the big guy?" Synth asked, flitting his eyes quickly over to Raph and back to Leo.

"Maybe," Raph propped his elbows on the table and leaned in a bit, demanding the attention back to himself.

"Synth, this my brother Raph," Leo introduced. "Raph, this is Synth."

"Nice to meetcha," Raph grumbled. "But if anything funny happens tonight, you'll be lucky if you walk out of here on both of your legs."

Leo gave him a concerned look, but didn't say anything. He was probably wondering where the big softie had gone.

Raph wished he could loosen up a bit too, but his perspective had changed a little since he'd been kidnapped by giant pink aliens. Or maybe it was when Casey had first appeared. Or maybe he just wasn't used to Leo calling the shots yet. Either way, his role was to act as the gatekeeper; he was not going to let anyone near his family that shouldn't be.

The message came through crystal clear; Synth looked like he was about to try and leave while he still had his legs.

Leo sighed.

"Don't mind him. He's just very protective. A big sweetheart, I promise."

Leo batted his eyes at Raph and made a stupid face, but Raph didn't let that break him down. If anything, he scowled harder.

"Right," Casey stepped in. "Where we left off, you all but admitted you're not happy with your current employment. Would you like to elaborate on that?"

Raph was surprised to hear Casey speak up, and so confidently too. He kind of sounded a bit like Leo.

Synth turned to face Casey, and seemed to relax a little at the prospect of having something different to talk about.

"Y-yes. Well, I wouldn't say I'm unhappy… or perhaps it'd be better to say I'm just uninspired. The money's too good for me to consider workin' anywhere else. But I'm an artist. If I'm making the same shit everyday I start to lose it. But Mama's got ears everywhere; if she heard I was moonlighting or doing anythin' off task she'd put me in a cell or worse."

Worse needed no further explanation. Even the people Big Mama claimed to have a good relationship with seemed to end up in her arena at some point.

"So you want to help us?" Leo asked hopefully.

"In a manner of speaking, I do. But there are a lot of steps to consider if you're going to get me to make anythin' for you."

"Like what?" Leo crossed his arms.

"Firstly, if I make you swords, Big Mama'll be pissed."

"That kind of seems like a big issue," Casey noted. "How are we supposed to help with that?"

"I did some thinking, some research, and I've come up with a solution to many problems in the Hidden City," Synth explained. "So while it is a big ask, I think you'll find the reward worth everyone's while."

Everyone waited for him to say what he thought, but he held back. Raph thought he looked unsure.

"You're asking strangers for help with something that could get you into serious trouble, and there is a very high chance Big Mama knows exactly what you are up to," Raph pointed out. He did not like where this was going.

Synth looked up to the ceiling as if he could find an answer there. When he looked back down, he seemed to find his answer on Leo's face, because it was only then he had the courage to speak.

"The second problem I have, has somehow, ironically blessed me with a solution. You see… I'm kind of cursed."

"Great, you're cursed too. Leo, Casey,have we heard enough? I think we've heard enough we should probably go."

"But we ordered pizza already!" Leo complained.

"I nearly forgot about the curse," Casey mumbled.

"You know about my curse?" Synth turned to Casey, surprised.

"Aha," Casey made that 'oh shit I said too much again about that future' face. "Yeah, about that…" the kid ran his fingers through his hair and gave a nervous smile.

Leo made a gesture for Casey to knock it off, but Casey put his fist over his lips.

"So, Synth has a curse that enables him to tell when anyone is lying," Casey squeaked.

"And how do you know that?" Synth bristled.

"Other than by the fact that your question is an attempt to test my honesty?" Casey asked back.

"You don't have to lie to him," Leo pointed out. "You just don't have to tell him!"

Casey frowned.

"I'm not afraid of telling people I'm from the future Leo, I'm afraid they'll think I'm crazy for saying so."

Synth's ears twitched.

"There it is again, your ears are twitching!" Leo pointed.

"I'm just surprised," Synth rolled his eyes. "That is twice now that what you've said is unbelievable," he gave Casey a suspicious look. "It's why I wanted to have this conversation in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Casey asked, clearly dumbfounded.

"You told me that he-" Synth pointed over to Leo. "Was the greatest ninja the world has ever seen. I could use the greatest ninja the world has ever seen… or two," he added on, glancing over at Raph.

"For the record, Casey's a ninja too," Leo smiled. Raph couldn't help but notice Casey's eyes sparkle at that. Raph didn't want to ruin the moment for Casey, but he wondered just how exactly he was supposed to be a good ninja with a chainsaw as his primary weapon. It wasn't exactly… subtle.

"Whatever. You know he's the greatest ninja ever, and that was a true statement."

"Well yeah, but it's just an opinion right? Even if I believe it, doesn't mean it's true for everyone right?" Raph asked. Facts and opinions were easily confused.

"That's true," Synth nodded. "Leo himself was lying when he said he was the greatest ninja ever."

"Hey! That's not true! I am the greatest ninja ever."

This time Synth's ears flicked to lay flat against his head.

"You really need more confidence in yourself, my friend," Synth chastised him before taking a drink of water. "That lie really hurt to hear."

"So what's up with this curse? It doesn't seem related, or even like a problem at all," Raph asked, redirecting the conversation.

Synth sighed. "Yes, it seems rather useful at first, but the world is not so black and white. Ironically, it seems some lies are meant to be told. There are things I wished I'd never known because of this power. And when people know I have it, they want to use me to their advantage."

Synth turned to give Casey a grave look.

"For you to know about my secret makes me wary of the future. Should I be concerned?"

Casey shook his head. "In the future we were close allies. I don't want to risk saying more, but your secret is safe with me. I don't know anyone else who would dare share it."

Casey gave a pointed look at Leo.

"What, me? No no no, I would never!" Leo turned and bowed his head to Synth. "Your secret is safe with me."

Synth turned to Raph next.

"You admitted this in a public space where anyone could hear you," Raph pointed out. "I don't know how useful my word is, but you have it anyway."

Synth looked like he wanted to die as that realization washed over him. Raph didn't get the impression he was very smart. And this was coming from the 'smash first, ask questions later' guy.

"And then there is the matter of how the curse works itself. Are you familiar with it?" Synth looked over to Casey.

Casey shook his head.

"Swords talk to me… well, any blade actually. Swords are straightforward. They don't care much for nuance, they take sides one way or the other. It's a simple way of thinking, but they are always decisive. They are also tremendously awful gossips."

"Wait, so swords gossip? They tell you whether or not someone is lying?" Casey asked.

Synth nodded.

"I've yet to hear them steer me wrong. And they have told me all about your situation, Leonardo," the bobcat looked at Raph's brother with… unease? Irritation? It was hard to tell."

"My situation? What's my situation?" Leo already looked upset, like he knew he was in trouble.

"That kitchen knife you call a katana-" Synth pointed to the blade on the back of Leo's carapace. "It's quite the tattle-tale. And word's getting around. If you keep treating blades that way it will end very badly for you."

"You mean they'll keep breaking?"

Synth shook his head. "Worse. They'll bite back."

"Bite back? That's silly. It's a tool-"

Synth slammed his paw on the table.

"Don't be so arrogant!" the whole restaurant turned to look at him. Suddenly self-aware, he sank back into the booth quietly.

"A ninja's weapon is more than a tool…" Casey spoke up. "It is your closest ally, literally."

Synth nodded. "It seems you've learned a bit from me."

"I must have," Casey agreed, but he was looking at Leo when he said it.

"The long and short of it is- you take care of your blades, and they will take care of you."

Synth pointed at Leo. "You have not been holdin' up your end of the deal, and for that the steel is sufferin'."

"Well yeah, that's why I want actual swords, this is clearly not working!" Leo rolled his eyes.

"It's not about you!" Synth snapped. "The damage is already done. It's not so simple as I make you new swords. For one, they would probably scream at me until I went deaf if I intentionally made a sword for you. They are pissed. The same would go for any premade swords I give you. Same for teaching you anything. They hate you. Your first step is to win their trust back."

"How do I win their trust back?"

Synth pulled something out from his bag; a small sheathed paring knife. He set it on the table.

"While I was working earlier, I had some conversations with my swords about our situation. While they may hate you, they are willin' to reconcile this matter for their own benefit too. We'll get into that in a moment."

Synth unsheathed the paring knife and immediately winced, as if the action pained him. He turned the blade over in his hand until the reflective surface caught Leo.

"This is Tamanegi. He has somewhat reluctantly agreed to help us."

Synth resheathed the knife and slid it over to, of all people, Raph. Raph lookedndown at it, but did not move to pick it up. They had not agreed to anything yet.

"Like I said before, I can't give you the knife, Leonardo. You shouldn't just expect it to work for you either. Give that to your youngest brother, Michelangelo, and help him where you can. When Tamanegi trusts you, then we can talk about your swords again."

"Wait, how do you know Mikey's name?" Raph asked.

"The gossiping, Raphael. They tell me everything."

"That's suspicious as hell. We don't have privacy in our own home?" Raph growled.

"Not as long as your brother continues to treat knives this way."

Raph glared down at the knife on the table. It was the fanciest paring knife he'd ever seen; not that he'd been keeping track.

The ones Mikey had at home had plastic handles, but this one was a part of the blade itself. It was heavier too. Mikey would probably get a kick out of it, at least.

"But speaking of privacy, we need to revisit the first problem. Many years ago, when my father was young, the Battle Nexus was an honorable place. The champions were brave warriors from all over the world, not just playthings of Big Mama's design. The swords of my forge and I have been laboring without honor all my life. My second ask is that you help me restore the Battle Nexus to its former glory."

"That's quite the ask," Raph pointed out. "Do you even know what that would mean?"

"It would mean destroying Big Mama completely," Synth said, leaning in and speaking quietly. "As long as she is in charge, everyone in the Hidden City suffers."

"She is the majority shareholder of yokai suffering," Leo pointed out.

"This is ridiculous Leo, we can't take out Big Mama! She hasn't even done anything to hurt us… lately," Raph argued. "We'd just be causing trouble."

"Hasn't done anything to hurt you? Are you ignorant? The woman has her spindly hooks in everything she can. She hurts thousands of people either by her deals, imprisonment, her own whimsy…" Synth trailed off.

"We're heroes, Raph." Leo reminded him. "I don't think our responsibility ends at topside New York."

"This is more trouble than it's worth," Raph insisted. Saving all of the Hidden City of the largest and most influential crime boss for a pair of katanas? This was ridiculous.

"How would Leo even fight Big Mama without his swords anyway? This isn't a fair trade."

Synth nodded wisely.

"I will make you a pair of katanas before then, if you promise to help me. I can risk the time and effort to make them if I know my future outside of Mama's influence is secure."

"You would be putting a lot of trust in us," Raph warned.

"It has nothing to do with trust. The swords will hear your conviction themselves," Synth shrugged casually.

"I need your word that you will help me," he faced Leo, his face serious. "My family has made weapons for the Battle Nexus for centuries. It is my responsibility to restore their traditions. I have looked for many ways to do so, but it isn't until now that I've been able to come up with a solution. This means everythin' to me."

"Sure, we'll help you," Leo agreed too quickly.

"What? Leo! This is dangerous-"

"Then don't go," Leo shrugged.

"You know I can't let you do this alone!"

"Then come with me!"

"Leo!"

Leo scowled.

"Let's at least think this through some more."

"There is no hurry," Synth assured them, raising his hands defensively. "Just take your time with Tamanegi for now. Discipline is often its own reward."

That was the first thing out of Synth's mouth tonight that Raph didn't hate.

"What do you think Casey?" Raph asked curiously. "You're supposed to know this guy."

"Wha- me?" Casey kind of jumped. "I don't know if it's my place to say what we should do-"

"But this was your idea," Raph reasoned.

"Well yeah," Casey rubbed the back of his neck. "I think that principally, it's the right thing to help him. But it would take a considerable amount of risk. In the end, I think it's up to Leo."

"Do you think it's worth it?" Leo asked him.

"Synth makes the greatest swords in the world. It's a great deal in the long run," Casey nodded.

Synth's ears twitched again, and when he looked at Casey, Raph could tell he was amazed by the kid's sincerity.

"I make the greatest swords in the world?" he asked, nervously.

Casey gave him a huge smile. "Of course you do! Without your help-" but he cut himself off. He looked back at Synth with that ghost face. The facade had been cracked for just a moment.

Needless to say, the silence following was agonizingly awkward.

"Well," Synth finally sighed. "It's a pleasure to hear such praises from you, Casey. But I suppose I would be better off not knowing whatever you're holding back from me."

Casey gave a sad nod. As much as it could be helpful, the kid had told them over and over how dangerous his foreknowledge could be. It was a bit frustrating sometimes, hearing all his cliffhanger inducing thoughts. It eventually wore out all the curiosity Raph had of the future. It wasn't worth bugging him over.

"I'm not asking this because I want an answer," the bobcat explained in advance. "But you must know that I wonder what became of the Battle Nexus in the future. Are we working toward the future you are from?"

"Well actually…" Leo started to say, but Raph kicked him under the seat.

"Do what you want," Casey answered. "The future is made by what we do today."

Synth seemed satisfied with that answer.

Dinner came and went. Phone numbers were exchanged, and once they had gotten through the serious bog, the conversation lightened.

As it turned out, Synth was another one of Liu Jitsu's many fans, and he was eager to hear all about what had happened to him after his disappearance from the Nexus all those years ago. Raph almost forgot about Casey’s warning hours ago: that Big Mama might have heard them. That she could already know everything. In his head this wasn’t a good idea at all, and he’d remind everyone later when they got home.

But then something perfectly normal happened: Sunita came in to visit her dad at work. She waved at the boys as she came in, and it looked like she had brought some flowers with her. Her dad came out from the back of the restaurant and he took the flowers from her happily. It was cute; Raph wondered what the occasion was. On her way out, she took a moment to stop by and say hello.

“Sunita! It’s been a minute!” Leo smiled at her. “You still hanging out with April?”

“Hi guys! Yes! We’re going to the library tomorrow. One of our professors has already assigned us reading.” She made a gagging face. Their term didn’t start until next Monday.

Sunita’s eyes moved over to Synth and Casey, and Leo caught her look too.

“Sunita, this is Casey and Synth. We just met Synth today, but April’s told you about Casey, right?”

Sunita’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“Oh yeah! Hi Casey, nice to meet you!” she held out a slimy green hand and Casey shook it without hesitation. He smiled like… ok he probably already knew her already. Time travel was weird. Raph tried not to think about it.

“I heard you and Mikey are starting high school this week?” Sunita asked, raising a gooey eyebrow. “That should be interesting. I’m still going to college classes in disguise.”

“We’re going to try it out,” Leo shrugged. “I’m sure we’ve dealt with worse.”

“My dad’s real nervous about it,” Sunita admitted. “Even though I’m going as a human, he’s worried someone’s going to rat me out, and he’s all like: ‘humans are evil! Don’t trust them!’ and all that.” Sunita glanced over at Casey and bit her lip. “Sorry, he’s not… he doesn’t think…”

“Oh it’s fine!” Casey waved his hands. “I’m sure he’s just worried about you.”

Sunita nodded. “Well, I hope it all goes well for you,” she encouraged Leo.

Leo put his hand over his heart and smiled. “Aw, thanks.”

“You guys have a good night!” And then she was gone.

Soon after, it was time to go home. Raph had eaten enough pizza that he felt like he was approaching a food coma; he was very ready to get some well-deserved shut eye. The party walked out and said good night to Synth, who quickly disappeared into the shadows of the overworld. Leo drew his sword, and a portal was soon shimmering and urging Raph onward. Pizza supreme he was glad nothing bad had happened.

He stepped through the portal, with Leo immediately behind him, and started to walk to his room, when he noticed Leo hadn’t closed the gateway. He turned, and saw that CJ had not followed them through. Leo looked through the portal, but the kid was nowhere in sight.

“What the hell?” Leo stepped back through the portal. He poked his head back in, concerned. “He was just with us, where did he go?”

Raph pulled out his phone and dialed CJ’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Where had he gone?

“Donnie!” Raph called up toward the lab. Donnie poked his head out, looking tired and frustrated.

“Raph!” he yelled back.

“Do you have one of those tracker thingies in CJ?”

Donnie jumped down to the main floor and looked at Leo, who was still on the other side of his portal, walking up and down the street and peering back into Run of the Mill.

“You lost him?”

“He just disappeared! We had eyes on him not three seconds ago!”

Donnie groaned.

“He was very adamant that I not track him. He told me so like… a million times.”

“But let me guess, you did it anyway.”

“Scoff. I do believe in some levels of privacy Raphala. (Though maybe not anymore.) I do have his vitals though.” Donnie tapped at his wrist tech. “He’s fine.”

“Oh good," Raph's expression lightened.

“But unconscious.”

“Nevermind," his expression darkened again.

Leo popped back into the lair. “Guys I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Given the fact that he’s already unconscious, I’d wager he’s been kidnapped.” Donnie theorized.

“What!” Leo started to panic. “How does that even happen! He was just here!” He grabbed Donnie’s hand and dragged him through the portal. Raph followed them closely behind.

“We have to find him!”

Spider's Web

Casey was about to follow Leo through the portal when he felt something itch at the back of his neck. Ok, maybe not like an itch, but like something gooey had just crawled up on him. It was a horrible feeling really. Instinctively he went to scratch it off, but it wouldn’t let go.

It only took a second, he didn't even have time to react. He was suddenly yanked by his free arm and more of that ooze crept over his face- he couldn't even scream. He struggled as best he could, but it crawled up over his body as if he were sinking into jelly.

“I’m really sorry this was how we had to meet, Casey,” came Sunita’s voice. Where had she come from? Casey remembered when they had shaken hands. Had she… hidden herself on him?

Ew.

“I’m really, really sorry.”

To her credit, Casey did think she sounded sincere. But he was also rapidly losing consciousness so he wasn’t really in any place to forgive her.

The first thing Casey noticed when he came to was the kick of carpet under his shoes. Then the pressure of clawed hands gripping tightly to his arms. He was being dragged somewhere. When his eyes opened, he saw a familiar pattern pass him by in the runner beneath him. His eyes darted to either side and confirmed he was back in the Grand Nexus Hotel. Well, he wasn’t exactly surprised.

The bellhops pulling him hadn’t yet noticed he was awake. If he could twist out and take them by surprise, he might have a chance to break free. But just as he was about to pick up his feet, double doors swung open in front of him and he was carelessly thrown into a large room.

He heard Big Mama shout in surprise and disgust. “Idiots! What do you think you’re doing throwing our guest?” Casey looked up and watched as the bellhops stepped back into his space to pick him back up, but Casey scrambled away and to his feet.

Glancing around quickly, it looked as if he had been brought into Big Mama’s office. The woman herself was seated behind a massive, black lacquer desk. The double doors he had come through were swung shut and bolted behind him. He was trapped. As he continued to take in his surroundings, Big Mama continued to wring out her staff.

“And look at his arms! Honestly, I’m going to have you on probation if you can’t behave properly. We’re civilized yokai. I expected much more from you.” She turned to face Casey. “I’m really sorry for the way they treated you sweetie. Please, have a seat.”

“I’m good, thanks.” He didn’t know how he’d said that, honestly. His brain had gone from zero to one hundred when he’d scrambled to his feet, and now he couldn’t rest on any one thing. His adrenaline had kicked in and he was just waiting for the first opportunity to get out. One of the yokai standing by the door had his hockey stick. If he could somehow get that from him…

“I brought you in to talk, Casey. I’m not here to hurt you,” Big Mama’s voice made him jump. “I heard everything, I have friends all over. But believe me, I’m not the eensiest upset.”

Casey did not believe her.

Big Mama stood up from her desk and approached him. Casey took a careful step back.

“More than anything, I’m curious about you,” she cooed. “A child from the future; you’re very valuable. I’m sure the psychics in Witchtown would lose their minds over you.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “But why would I sell you to them when I could have all your little secrets myself?”

Why couldn’t he keep his damn mouth shut? Ever??? Raph had been right. They probably should not have met up in a public pizza parlor.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Of course not; what’s in it for you, anyway?" Big Mama giggled. "Your freedom? Your friends? Your… identity?”

“That’s not a deal, that’s blackmail!”

Big Mama smiled mischievously in response, spinning away and leaning against her desk.

“Why are you so upset?” she teased. “You all seemed far too eager to dispose of me. If anything, I’m being generous.”

“I’d rather die.” He meant it. Truthfully, he didn’t see himself knowing anything particularly useful to her personal situation, but the things she could learn about his friends, his family- she would never have that.

Big Mama rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun. You’re just as stubborn as that red turtle.” She gave him a quick glance over from head to toe. “But you aren’t just keeping these secrets from me, are you? Unfortunately for you, it’s much harder to hide mystic energy from me than it is from your friends.”

Shit. Had she really…?

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ooo… you are not a very convincing liar, are you honey? That's not going to work out for you in the long term, is it?"

Big Mama snapped her fingers and two more yokai appeared at Casey's side.

"It's on his right ankle," she sneered.

The yokai grabbed him.

"Hey! Stop-"

Big Mama just smiled.

While one of the yokai held him still, the other pulled his pant leg up, his sock down, and Casey felt his stomach drop.

"Please don't," he choked.

"Take it off."

The yokai unstrung a small black ribbon that was tightly tied around Casey's ankle. As soon as they did, Casey's skin turned a scaly emerald green.

The yokai handed the ribbon to Big Mama, who inspected it carefully.

"Give it back!" Casey snapped.

"Not yet, darling," she giggled. "Not until you tell me why a handsome little turtle such as yourself is hiding from his own family."

________

Previous Masterpost Next

Notes: Oops he a turtle! This will be expanded upon next week eeeeeheeheheheheheheheeee

So this was my plan all along muahaha. Cass Apocalyptic Series got me by the throat and I had to put a different spin on turtle Casey. I saw this sweet boy and I thought "let's fuck him up a little bit. Let's make his life miserable, and this time there's no peepaw coming to make him feel whole again." Casey is alone and his story is finding meaning in the new life he has on his own terms. And he a turtle. turtle turtle turtle turtle...

#rottmnt #casey sas au #snapper and stinkpot #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt au #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt sunita #rottmnt big mama #casey is a turtle #turtle casey

23 notes · View notes

officialdetailersleague · 17 days ago

Text

Master Car Detailing with the Right Training Course.

Car detailing is not just about washing a car – it’s about restoring, protecting, and maintaining a vehicle so that it looks and feels brand new. Whether you want to become a professional detailer or just learn how to care for your own car, getting the right training is very important.

In this blog, we’ll talk about why car detailing matters, what you’ll learn in a car detailing course, and how a professional training program like Detailers League can help you master this amazing skill.

Why Car Detailing is Important

Many people think that car detailing is just a fancy word for cleaning. But it’s much more than that. Car detailing is a step-by-step process that covers both the interior and exterior of the vehicle.

Here’s why detailing matters:

Protects the car’s paint and body from dust, dirt, and UV rays

Increases the resale value of the vehicle

Improves the overall look and feel of the car

Removes germs and allergens from inside the car

Saves money in the long run by reducing damage and wear

So, if you love cars or want to work in the automobile industry, learning car detailing can be a great career move.

What You’ll Learn in a Car Detailing Training Course

A good detailing course teaches you everything from the basics to advanced techniques. At Detailers League, the training is practical, hands-on, and designed to make you job-ready.

Here are some of the key things you’ll learn:

1. Exterior Detailing

Washing and drying using the two-bucket method

Clay bar treatment

Polishing and buffing

Waxing and sealing the paint

Cleaning and shining wheels, tires, and glass

2. Interior Detailing

Vacuuming seats, carpets, and mats

Cleaning dashboards, panels, and cup holders

Removing stains and odors

Leather care and conditioning

Steam cleaning for deep sanitization

3. Paint Correction & Ceramic Coating

Removing swirl marks and light scratches

Machine polishing techniques

Applying ceramic coating for long-lasting shine and protection

4. PPF (Paint Protection Film) Installation

Basics of PPF

How to cut and apply film

Tools required for installation

Maintenance tips

5. Business & Marketing Skills

How to start your own car detailing business

Creating packages and pricing your services

Managing customers and inquiries

Promoting your business online and on social media

Why Choose Detailers League?

There are many online videos and DIY tutorials available. But real learning comes from hands-on experience, mentorship, and practice with the right tools. That’s where Detailers League stands out.

Here’s why so many people choose Detailers League for car detailing training:

Expert Trainers

You’ll learn from experienced professionals who have been in the detailing industry for years. They guide you step-by-step and share real-world tips.

Practical Training

You won’t just sit in a classroom – you’ll actually work on real cars. This practical approach gives you the confidence to take on any detailing job.

Industry-Standard Tools

You’ll get to use high-quality tools and products during your training, so you know exactly what works best.

Certification

After completing the course, you get a certificate that proves your skills and helps you get jobs or start your own business.

Franchise and Job Opportunities

Detailers League is also connected with top detailing brands and offers help with franchise and job placements. So you’re not just trained – you’re supported throughout your journey.

Who Can Join This Course?

The best part is – anyone can join!

College students who love cars

Working professionals who want a career change

Car lovers who want to maintain their own vehicles

Entrepreneurs who want to start a detailing business

You don’t need any special background or experience. All you need is the passion to learn and dedication to grow.

What Makes a Good Car Detailer?

To become a successful car detailer, you need more than just training. Here are a few qualities that help:

Attention to detail: You must notice even the smallest dust or scratch.

Patience: Good detailing takes time.

Passion: If you love what you do, it shows in your work.

Willingness to learn: Technology and products keep changing, so you must keep upgrading your skills.

Detailers League not only teaches you the technical skills but also builds your confidence and mindset.

The Future of Car Detailing

Car detailing is growing fast in India and worldwide. People are now more aware of car care, and they’re willing to spend money to keep their cars in great condition.

That’s why professional detailers are in high demand. Whether you want to work in a detailing studio, become a mobile detailer, or start your own outlet – this is a great time to enter the industry.

And with support from a trusted platform like Detailers League, your journey becomes much easier.

Final Thoughts

If you’re serious about car detailing and want to learn the right way, don’t waste time on random tutorials or guesswork. Choose a proper training course that gives you hands-on learning, real guidance, and career support.

At Detailers League, you get all that and more. With expert trainers, live practice, job opportunities, and a certification that matters – it’s the best place to start your journey in car detailing.

So what are you waiting for?

👉 Visit https://detailersleague.com 👉 Choose your course 👉 Start learning, start detailing!

Your dream of mastering car detailing is just one step away. Let Detailers League guide you to success!

0 notes

juliabeauty · 18 days ago

Text

Visit Julia Beauty’s New Outlet in Chinatown: Walk-in or Book Now

Looking for a trusted nail salon in Chinatown that doesn’t mess around with quality? Well, your search just got easier because Julia Beauty has opened its latest outlet right in the heart of Chinatown, Singapore. Whether you're walking in from your lunch break or planning a weekend pamper session, this new spot is made to give you that polished look without the drama.

Let’s break down what makes this place worth the hype and why your next mani-pedi shouldn’t happen anywhere else.

A Quick Glance: Where Exactly?

Julia Beauty – Chinatown Branch 3 Pickering Street, South Bridge Rd, #01-47 Nankin Row, Singapore 048660

You can’t miss it. Right in the vibrant lanes of Chinatown, surrounded by cafes, bubble tea joints, and culture-rich corners, this location makes it easy to turn a beauty session into a full chill day.

Not Just Another Nail Salon in Chinatown

Let’s be real Chinatown has plenty of nail spots. Some okay, some... let’s say “risky.” But Julia Beauty isn’t some pop-up shop with a laminated price list and mystery reviews.

This is a full-service beauty outlet built on:

Consistency in service

Premium products

Experienced nail artists who actually listen

A calm, modern space that doesn’t feel like a beauty factory

Whether you want gel extensions, clean natural nails, or a trending chrome finish they’ve got it down to a science. And yeah, they’re good with nail art too. No shaky lines here.

Why Julia Beauty Is Gaining Buzz

1. They Get Your Aesthetic

You show them a Pinterest screenshot, they won’t panic. Their techs actually stay updated with trends from Korean-inspired minimalist nails to bold Y2K pop colors. Whether it’s almond shape with a nude ombré or Hailey Bieber’s glazed look, they deliver.

2. Quick But Never Rushed

Walk-ins are welcome, but the team never treats you like a number. You won’t be left soaking your hand for 30 minutes while the staff rotates between clients. Bookings are smooth, timing’s tight, and walk-ins are handled respectfully.

3. Hygiene? 10/10

Every file, brush, and basin goes through strict hygiene protocols. Tools are sanitized, buffers are one-use, and everything smells clean no weird salon odors. You’d be surprised how rare that is in the area.

4. Wallet-Friendly Without Looking Cheap

Prices are mid-range, but the finish feels luxury. You’re not paying $10 for a 10-minute job, but you’re also not being upsold into a $180 nail set unless you want it. Expect transparency and zero pressure.

Services You’ll Want to Try

Here’s what’s popular at the new outlet right now:

Express Gel Mani/Pedi – For when you're on the clock

Classic Gel Mani with Nail Art – Custom styles, minimal to bold

Hard Gel Extensions – For durable glam without looking chunky

Natural Nail Care – Buffing, shaping, cuticle health

Nail Repair & Overlay – For weak or brittle nails that need support

They also offer nail care add-ons like paraffin wax, collagen treatments, and protein coats especially useful if your nails have been through acrylic trauma or back-to-back gel sessions.

What Customers Are Saying

Real reviews from clients who’ve already visited the Chinatown outlet:

“I walked in with weak, chipped nails — walked out with clean gel overlays that look like I was born with them. The staff didn’t push anything unnecessary. Love that.” – Priya L. “Very chill vibe, clean setup. Got my extensions fixed in under 45 minutes. Definitely coming back!” – Zoe T. “Hands down my new go-to for nail art. They actually understood what I wanted and the result was even better than my inspo photo.” – Jessie W.

Instagram-Worthy Results (Without Filters)

Nails aren’t just a grooming thing anymore they’re full-on self-expression. The Chinatown branch keeps up with that. You’ll see clients walking out with:

Matte nudes with minimalist dots

Barbiecore pink with sparkle topcoat

Abstract art vibes that look like wearable gallery pieces

Classic French with updated twists (metallic tips, double lines)

Their Instagram page also features real client sets no AI-generated or overly filtered nonsense.

The Techs Know Their Craft

Unlike random salons where you’re unsure who’s working on you, Julia Beauty’s team is well-trained and consistent. They:

Ask about your preferences before they start

Adjust shaping based on your nail bed

Know how to handle sensitive cuticles

Don’t over-file or damage the nail base

And yes, they speak both English and Mandarin — smooth communication, no awkward guessing games.

Real Talk: What to Expect in Terms of Price

Here’s a quick average range (as of June 2025):

Gel Manicure: $40–$65

Extensions: $80–$110

Nail Art Add-ons: $5–$30 depending on complexity

Nail Repair: $10–$25 per nail

Express Classic: $25–$35

For the level of quality, hygiene, and comfort it’s more than fair. No hidden charges or weird upcharges when you're halfway done.

Final Word: Is It Worth Going?

If you’re around Chinatown and want a nail salon that’s clean, stylish, and consistent, Julia Beauty’s new outlet is a no-brainer. Whether it’s your regular self-care day or a pre-event glam session, they’ll get you in and out without stress.

Walk-in if you’re nearby or book ahead to skip the wait and get the tech of your choice.

How to Book or Find Them

Location: 3 Pickering Street, #01-47 Nankin Row, Singapore 048660

Call or WhatsApp: 6582215895

Booking Link: Nail Salon in Chinatown

📷 Follow them on IG: @juliabeauty.sg

Got your next set in mind? Time to stop scrolling inspo and actually book it. Julia Beauty in Chinatown is open and ready your nails deserve the upgrade.

#nailsalon #nailsalonchinatown #singapore #nailsalonsingapore #singaporenailsalon

0 notes

quibble-auk · 1 month ago

Text

I uhhhhhh slipped?

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil idk I thought u may be interested hehehe

Yeah, some prewar… fluff maybe? Idk. It’s just me finally writing the first time Sunrazor and Valkyrie met. I did a little flashback to this scene a while ago and it’s been on my to do list ever since. Which is wild.

I had fun though. I might be doing more pre war stuff… or finally go back and work with my cons because they deserve some love.

Enjoy.

—

Sunrazor had been stationed near the glass-and-sky latticework of the Towers’ inner plaza, where sleek walkways branched like veins between towering crystal spires and pristine garden platforms. This area wasn’t normally hers to patrol—Powercase’s injury had shuffled a few assignments around—and it showed.

She felt like an oil stain in a gallery of perfect paintings.

The mechs here moved like everything was choreographed. Tall, clean lines. Gleaming pastel plating. Hushed conversations filled with big words she’d probably need to look up later. It was like another world, and it didn’t help that she’d been posted right in the center of it, next to a shallow reflecting pool that showed her every dent and scuff with high-definition clarity.

Sunrazor knew she was due for some maintenance, some buffing and touch up. Unfortunately expenses like that had to be skipped for the time being, everyone in her group had their pay cut since the incident with Rapidstrike. A punishment of sorts.

It was the same reason why she hadn’t been able to go in to figure out what was wrong when her limb lock started acting up.

She was standing at ease—trying not to look like she wanted to disappear—when her eyes had caught on her.

That pastel-colored mech.

She’d seen her from across the plaza at first: a soft teal, white and lavender color scheme, neat armor lines, subtle gold trim. Pretty. Precise. Intimidating in the quiet, refined way of someone who probably had no idea what it was like to cut back costs and worry about rent.

The mech would probably look at Sunrazor and assume that she was just too lazy to take care of herself.

She was too polished, too elegant—one of them. Someone who lived on the upper floors, who belonged to a family of wealth and status. The mech had probably never had to worry about cut pay or the next maintenance check. Sunrazor wasn’t bitter, not exactly. Just tired. And maybe a little too aware of how scratched her armor looked in this kind of light.

The guardian was by no means a neat freak, nor was she terribly obsessed with her looks. But she didn’t enjoy looking like she didn’t know what wax was. Especially when she was meant to be nothing but a fly on the wall, or when surrounded by mechs that only found value in the beauty of things.

The golden guardian told herself to look away, to focus, to be professional.

Instead, she watched.

There was something about the way the other mech moved—graceful but not rehearsed, like she was floating instead of walking. Every gesture was fluid, precise. Elegant in a way that did not match the crowd—not to Sunrazor at least. The Towers mech was… pretty. Small and dainty, gentle curves with an elegant design. The colors formed a pleasing palette, not loud and attention seeking, but still striking in their softness.

Sunrazor would admit, she was intriguing, beautiful even—as towers mechs were supposed to be.

The mech was speaking with a group of other high class mechs, each brightly colored and adorned in imported fabrics. She smiled, nodded, turned her head—

—and met Sunrazor’s gaze directly.

Sunrazor flinched like she’d been caught stealing energon from a supply locker.

She quickly looked away, eyes locking onto the far wall like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe.

Primus, she was such an idiot.

The guardian stared at the wall, dead still, every line of her frame locked like a faulty joint. Her spark thrummed painfully loud in her chest. Maybe if she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, the mech would forget it happened. Pretend she didn’t just catch some grimy outer-circuit guard gawking like a protoform seeing a starship for the first time.

But the quiet steps approaching told her otherwise.

Sunrazor could hear them—soft, confident, light. Too light for a mech in armor. They stopped just in front of her.

“Staring is rude, you know,” The voice wasn’t cold, but it was crisp, deliberate. Refined in that Towers way, like every word had been practiced until it could be carved in stone. And yet… it held a thread of warmth. A lightness that usually didn’t come with being scolded or ordered around.

It suited her, her gentle curves, baby blue eyes, and pastel palette.

Sunrazor snapped to attention too fast, her bad leg catching slightly on the movement. She masked it with a stiff straightening of her shoulders, helm raised and expression neutral. Or she hoped it was.

“I—oh. I—um…” her vocalizer stuttered uselessly, tripping over syllables like she’d just been rebooted. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—”

She froze, her words falling apart faster than she could catch them. This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid.

The pastel mech didn’t look amused. Or angry. Just… mildly confused. And maybe a little awkward herself, standing there with her arms tucked neatly behind her back, wings flared in subtle tension.

Sunrazor dropped her gaze, finally daring to look down at the mech. She fell back on her training, lowering her voice and keeping it direct and steady—unfeeling, “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was staring.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” the other replied, voice clipped and a little too fast. She looked over her shoulder briefly, back toward the cluster of other mechs—still chatting, laughing, untouched by this uncomfortable little moment. “It’s impolite. Not many bots will take kindly to it.”

A lesser guardian might have winced, but not Sunrazor. She was used to dealing with egotistical nobles. It never made it easier though, there was always some resentment that formed when a Towers mech was convinced she was an idiot. They were always certain she was nothing but a brainless, brawny guard that wasn’t capable of higher thought or feeling.

In their defense, maybe Sunrazor was. They were probably smarter than her. They had far more complex social lives. She was just a standard guardian from a facility in Polyhex.

Still, the pastel mech hadn’t walked away.

She was quiet for a moment, optics flicking back to Sunrazor. It wasn’t a calculating look, not exactly—but there was a weight to it, as if she was trying to decide something. Or maybe just working up the nerve.

“My name is Valkyrie,” the other introduced herself politely, looking over Sunrazor’s frame, “I do not recognize you, are you new?”

There it was again—that practiced politeness, tinged with something hesitant. Like she was dipping one toe into unfamiliar waters. Offering something. Testing the current. But intrigued nonetheless.

Sunrazor blinked, caught off guard, usually a noble would correct and leave. There was no point in pleasantries. “Uh. Yeah. Temporary post. Filling in for a friend.”

Valkyrie blinked, as if surprised by the response before she nodded once, properly, wings flicking carelessly behind her. “I see. I thought perhaps… you were new to the service entirely.”

The way she said it wasn’t cruel, but it still made something tight coil in Sunrazor’s chest. She squared her stance again, looking up to inspect the room again. “No, ma’am. I’ve been working at Towers for several million years now.”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise registering before her expression rebalanced into something neutral again. “Ah. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken,” Sunrazor lied.

Valkyrie shifted, one delicate hand adjusting the fall of a fabric wrap pinned to her shoulder. Some sort of Tower status insignia, probably. It looked like it cost more than a week’s worth of hazard pay. She hesitated, her hand lingering longer than necessary on the fabric, fingers smoothing over its edges as if she needed a reason to pause.

The silence dragged on and Sunrazor had no idea why Valkyrie hadn’t left yet.

Valkyrie glanced over her shoulder again, but this time there was no rush to leave. It seemed more nervous than anything. Her attention returned to Sunrazor, and her tone shifted, lighter now. Curious. Almost amused. "What's your name?"

Sunrazor blinked, genuinely startled. She couldn't remember the last time a Tower resident had asked her that without the intent of filing a complaint. It didn’t happen often, but just enough that she had learned that being asked for your name was not a good thing.

She paused. Glancing back down at Valkyrie firm the corner of her eye for just a moment. Had she upset her? The guardian cleared her throat, keeping her voice as even as she could despite the dread rising in her chest.

"Sunrazor."

Valkyrie repeated the name under her breath—softly, like she was trying it out. “Sunrazor.”

It didn’t sound like a mockery. If anything, it sounded thoughtful. She nodded to herself like it made sense somehow, like the name fit.

“That’s… a strong name,” she said after a moment. Not teasing or awkward, something a bit more purposeful, inquisitive. “Powerful. A little brutal perhaps.”

Valkyrie’s gaze lingered on Sunrazor, head tilted ever so slightly. Her doorwings fluttered softly, the movement almost too small to notice. She smiled, small and dare Sunrazor admit it, cute. “But not graceless.”

The guardian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. No one ever bothered to dissect her name like that—especially not with such interest. Most mechs just nodded, maybe made a joke if they were feeling bold. Sunrazor. It was a name meant to sound like a weapon, something sharp and useful and maybe a little dangerous. Angry and proud perhaps. She had never thought of it as anything else. Certainly not something someone like Valkyrie would take an interest in.

Sunrazor shifted her weight, not out of discomfort exactly, but to remind herself she was still standing on solid ground. Still on duty. Still a guardian. The unfamiliar sensation curling beneath her plating—the warmth, the attention—it was… disorienting.

“Thanks,” she said after a beat, voice low. She looked around the plaza again, mindlessly, her scanners feeding her data. Then, unsure what else to add, “I’ve… never really put much thought into it.”

Valkyrie hummed, a quiet, melodic sound. “I’ve always found it rather interesting how a spark selects a name. That it somehow just knows.”

She glanced sideways, toward the reflecting pool, where their silhouettes shimmered side by side. Sunrazor looming over her, frame bulkier, broader. But Valkyrie’s lines gleamed more clearly, pristine and unmarred. Opposites, standing shoulder to shoulder in glass.

The pastel mech hummed, voice light and insightful, “I’d argue that a name is the window to the soul rather than the eyes. Feels more appropriate.”

Valkyrie’s gaze lingered on their reflections, eyes flicking over the distorted symmetry. Her doorwings fluttering softly as she thought, “You don’t look like a Sunrazor,” she added quietly, her voice tinged with something unreadable.

Sunrazor bristled before she could stop herself, shoulders tightening. Her gaze remained forward though, scanning a rather rowdy group of mechs that had entered “No?”

The Tower mech’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing how her words could have landed. “I mean—” she turned, facing Sunrazor again more fully. “Not in a bad way. Just… you seem softer. More thoughtful. The name feels… heavier than you are.”

Sunrazor blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected observation. She wasn’t used to being called “soft” or “thoughtful,” especially not by someone like Valkyrie. She was a guardian, she was meant to intimidate and enforce, protect when necessary. The name she carried was meant to command respect—not invite speculation about her nature.

The pastel mech before her was throwing her off, over and over again. She had no idea how to deal with it.

“Maybe,” Sunrazor said cautiously, her voice steady despite the swirl of feelings underneath. She wasn’t sure what to make of this, or how close Valkyrie was to her, or the way her round door wings fluttered ever so slightly when she was thinking.

Valkyrie smiled—soft and warm—her head tilted again, eyes examining Sunrazor closely, “Sunrazor almost feels too flashy for a guardian. I can’t help but wonder why your spark chose the name.”

Sunrazor didn't know what to say to that, whether she should be offended or not. She had never thought her name to be flashy, proud maybe, but flashy felt like something a towers mech was—and she was not that. She had no idea where the conversation was going, she wasn’t even supposed to be talking.

She was on shift. She needed to focus.

The golden guardian defaulted to the same line she used to end polite conversations with nobles before they could turn awkward or dismissive. Her tone was steady and emotionless, detached, "Is there anything I can assist you with, ma'am?"

But Valkyrie didn't flinch at the shift. If anything, her expression warmed.

“No,” she said gently, “but thank you for offering.”

The words were simple, but the way she said them made them feel like more than just a polite brush-off. There was something in Valkyrie’s tone—an undercurrent of understanding, maybe even disappointment—that caught on the edges of Sunrazor’s thoughts and refused to let go.

The idea of disappointing Valkyrie was strangely upsetting. More than it should have been.

They stood there in silence again. Not uncomfortable this time, but something closer to still. Like the air between them was holding its breath.

Then Valkyrie shifted, just slightly, her wings rising and falling with a slow, deliberate grace. “I won’t keep you from your duties,” she said, but didn’t move. Not right away. Her gaze swept over Sunrazor one more time, studying her in a way that felt neither invasive nor critical. Just… curious.

Then, with the same quiet elegance she’d carried the whole time, Valkyrie turned.

She didn’t walk away immediately—just a half-step, like she was giving Sunrazor the chance to stop her if she wanted to. Her wings drooping closer to her back, the graceful tension in her posture softening, like she’d set down something heavy. Her gaze lingered on the curve of the reflecting pool for a beat longer before finally drifting upward, toward the lattice spires above.

And then she spoke, just loud enough to carry over the gentle hum of the plaza’s fountains.

“It was nice meeting you, Sunrazor.”

The way she said her name—without formality, without distance—made something twist low in the guardian’s chest. She wasn’t sure what it was, only that it didn’t feel like duty, or caution, or protocol. It felt like something.

She watched Valkyrie walk away—not out of reflex this time, but something more deliberate. The Tower mech rejoined her group with practiced ease, slipping back into the polished rhythm of their conversation. Yet Sunrazor could tell her focus was elsewhere; she didn’t lean in the same way, didn’t laugh as quickly. Her eyes wandered once, glancing back across the plaza.

Back to her.

Sunrazor’s optics dimmed for a beat. She exhaled slowly through her vents, letting her shoulders relax as the stillness settled again.

She had no idea what just happened.

#transformers #transformer oc #oc writing #oc lore #sunrazor #valkyrie #fluff #pre war #this was kinda fun #Sunrazor has a crush but she doesn’t know it yet #meanwhile Valk is flirting because her friends dared her to #and now she’s panicking because wait #the guardian is kinda cute #but unlike Sunrazor she’s good at talking so she kinda covers it up by talking about names for too long #I love them #heheheheheh #this isn’t great by any means but I like it regardless #I think it turned out alright

1 note · View note