#Although perhaps they won't get it right and I won't be satisfied anyway

[skylarsblue]

✦Slashers With An ADHD S/O✦

This could also be taken as slashers with a s/o that has unmedicated ADHD, it's essentially just them responding to your info dumping or random-ass questions. This is definitely not me just wanting to project random facts onto people-

✧GN!Reader, mention of skinwalkers(in case you're worried bout the energy that might bring), brief mention of cannibalism✧ ✧Bo; He/Him, Vincent; He/They, Lester; He/Him, Thomas; He/Him, Bubba; He/She/They, Stu; He/Him, Billy Lo; He/Him, Brahms; He/Him✧

❀Bo Sinclair❀

He's gonna act so sick of it but he often gets wrapped up in what you're doing. I've always been on the fence if he's neurotypical, or if he has unmedicated ADHD.

If you ask a random ass question that he can't immediately answer, he'll try to brush you off, but then he'll get too curious. Leading to hours of you two coming up with theories or researching some obscure topic. Sometimes it leads to debates that might get heated, but they never turn into actual fights.

Although sometimes he's too tired to deal with your random shit. Like, if you two are in bed, and you roll over with a super obscure topic? He'll give you some tired grunts as responses, but eventually, he'll cover your mouth and tuck you under his chin. "Doll, I'ma need you to shut ya mouth." He loves you but he needs his beauty sleep.

You were washing dishes as Bo sat in the living room, sipping a beer and losing his focus on a TV show. Things were quiet and peaceful. He'd been a bit on edge today, but that was chalked up to his lingering headache. Aside from that? Nothing was wrong, and it allowed everyone in Ambrose to relax...assuming they weren't encased in wax. But your brain was not relaxed. Not with the question that had been bouncing around all day. Finally, it was too much to bare on your own, so after drying your hands you poked your head around the door frame to the kitchen. Staring at Bo on the couch. He sensed it, setting his beer on his knee as he looked over, expecting your words.

"Bo, how come you never see an ad for microwaves?"

His brow furrowed before his eyes rolled. "Really? Darlin' what kind of stupid ass question is th-..." He trailed off as he properly processed the question. You blinked, staring, waiting as you watched it settle over him. The same confusion. He shook his head. "Prolly 'cause everyone knows ya need one." He said, trying to brush it off, but that answer was not satisfying. "But then why are there ads for other appliances? Or toilet paper? Everyone knows you need that stuff." You replied. Bo bit his lower lip as he looked up, thinking again. "...well shit, I don't fuckin' know." He admitted. You jumped in the air and made dramatic hand motions. "SEE?! Right?! It's been bothering me all day!!" You exclaimed. Bo rubbed his forehead as he tried to come up with an answer, or perhaps bring forth the memory of a microwave commercial.

You hopped over the back of the couch and settled next to him. "Bo, it's been eating away at me. I can't come up with anything." You whispered. "I can't either...shit! Why is that a thing?!" Bo demanded, you laughed and put your face in your hands. "Nah nah, we're gonna think of something. This shit's gonna eat at me." He said, setting his beer on the coffee table. He was in too deep now. There was no escaping without an answer.

❀Vincent Sinclair❀

Vincent can't really respond to your random questions or factoids, his vocal cords are damaged and he only speaks when necessary. However, he'll listen! Most of the time anyway. Occasionally, they'll be too focused to hear what you're saying, but they'll pause and sign for you to repeat your last sentence. He wants to indulge you.

You'll remind him of Lester when they were all younger. For this reason, they won't get annoyed. They're a seasoned veteran of the random ramblings of an individual with ADHD. That, and it makes him feel at peace hearing you in the background of whatever he's doing. Reminds him of a more peaceful time.

Vincent's an insomniac. He can stay awake to hear your latest info dump, but, if he's exhausted enough? He's gonna pass out. It doesn't matter how loud you're ranting either. He finds your voice soothing and it's hard to stay awake when they're so tired, and you feel so safe. But don't worry, if you want, they'll ask you to start talking about the topic again in the morning. After their coffee, of course.

There was a quiet scraping sound mingling with the bubbling of wax in a large vat in the basement. Vincent's hands worked diligently as he formed the shape of a man's arm, carefully sculpting the subtle curve of a bicep. They were in their zone, completely focused. Taking even, deep breaths as they went to grab a more precise tool.

"VINCENT!"

And the silence was shattered, making the man fumble with the tool, doing a short juggling act until he caught it. He looked over at you bouncing into his workspace, grinning. "Oh! Sorry, did I mess you up?" You asked as you noticed he was working. Vincent let out a sigh and shook their head, allowing you to relax, energy coming back full force. He set his tool down and signed to you. "What's wrong?" He asked, making you shake your head. "Oh nothing, but I just learned something super cool!" You walked closer and pulled up a chair, setting yourself on top of it.

"Do you anything about Egyptian mythology?" You asked with an excited grin. Vincent paused and tapped his fingers a few times on his leg before shaking his head. "Great! Okay, so there's this god, Anubis, also called Anpu or Inpu. He's a deity relating to death and the passing of the people of Egypt. He's got a jackal head most of the time, which is basically a canine. One of the things he's known for is this ceremony where he weighs a heart against a feather to see if it's pure, and if the heart is heavier than the feather, it's impure. So! He'll feed it to this other deity named Ammit. Which would basically mean your soul can't move on to the underworld." You paused to take a deep breath. Vincent had settled in his own seat at this point, listening intently. He'd never been much for mythology aside from his Greek phase in high school. But you were so passionate and admittedly? The factoids were interesting.

They'd gladly listen for hours on end, it made you so happy, how could he not indulge?

❀Lester Sinclair❀

This man is the king of random factoids, are you kidding me? Do you think he wouldn't be as passionate about your random topics? Fool that you are! He has just as many! It's definitely a bonding thing for the two of you.

The things he brings up most are bug & plant related, but he loves learning from you. He's got several learning disabilities so learning from a book is a bit difficult. This is partially why he loves learning from you. Be careful to have your facts straight though.

You could wake him up at two am and get him enraptured in a conversation with ease. He won't be mad, just a bit groggy at first. He utterly adores the fact you're so willing to share the things you're passionate about, no matter how random they are. And Lester is elated that you return the favor.

Wood shavings fell to the ground as Lester whistled a tune, carving a new knife handle out of some old cherry oak he'd found. He'd hoped to give this one to Bo, in order to replace the switchblade the man had that was starting to give up on him. It was peaceful on his cabin porch. Birds chirping, bugs buzzing, trees only swaying in a slight breeze. He stopped his whistling tune when he heard the screen door creak open and saw you walk out. He smiled as you sat beside him. "Afternoon' sugar." He greeted.

"Lester, I need you to confirm something for me." You said with an intense look. The man rose an eyebrow and looked you over. "Alright...what is it?" He asked. He watched you inhale deeply and finally open your mouth with the question. "Is it true that there are creatures in the ocean that look like tiny bunnies but they're slugs?" Lester blinked before he laughed a bit, a grin stretching across his face. "Yeah, there are! They're called sea bunnies! They're real small critters, buncha slugs in the ocean look real cool. There's one that looks like 's made of leaves too. It eats like a plant too! That photosin-photo, whatever's called." He mumbled. You gasped loudly.

"There are sea slugs that can photosynthesize?! Oh my god!" You cheered. Lester snickered and nodded vigorously. "Baby, I thought they were fake! They're so small and cute, I just wanna squish'em." You explained, making a little squishing motion with your hand. Lester hummed in agreement. "There's this other one. Looks like a dragon, but ya can't pick'em up 'cause they're real poisonous." He said, feeling his heart swell as you let out a sad whine. "All the cool things are poisonous." You complained. You looked back at him with adoration and a smile made from sunshine. "Can you tell me more about random animal stuff?" Lester couldn't have been happier to hear you ask. "Well, don't mind if I do." He adjusted himself in his seat, feeling joy rush through his brain as he started his factoid rant.

❀Thomas Hewitt❀

Alright, he's neurodivergent, but he's never been the type to info dump or even deeply explore his interests. Mostly because he's never had the time or ability. However, seeing how deep you get into your stuff will probably inspire him to indulge himself more.

He doesn't know what a hyperfixation is but he'll relate if you tell him about it. Thomas' tend to be things like sewing and, fittingly enough, mechanics of things like chainsaws. He used to be into old cars when he was younger but Luda Mae would often tell him not to poke around, for fear he'd get hurt by something.

Thomas finds your ease around him cathartic. Sometimes, when you're rambling, he won't be fully listening. Not because he doesn't care but because he's too focused on the fact you're with him. Even when he's at his most exhausted, he'll always find time and energy to watch you be passionate. To share those things with him? It feels unreal sometimes.

Thomas huffed as he tossed a small bale of hale towards a pile in the back of the dilapidated barn. Sweat rolled down his skin, which he wiped with the fabric of his shirt. He tilted his neck and only slightly winced when it cracked loudly. "Tommy!" And there it went again, feeling his heart melt and his stress fade away. Usually when his name was called it meant someone needed something, that he was about to be insulted, that he was doing something wrong. But not with you. No, you always said his name in the sweetest tone. He turned to face you, watching you run up to the barn with a smile. You remembered to step over the board at the entrance since it had unhidden nails.

"Tommy! Okay, baby, I know you're working but can I tell you about something really cool?" He exhaled and his gaze softened. With a deep grunt and a nod, he moved a hay bale off to the side and motioned to it. You cooed and walked up, sitting down on the bale with a grin. "You're a sweetheart." You praised, making him blush. "Okay, so, you know how Native Americans have super rich history? And like, they even have things akin to cryptids and they have their own folklore?" Thomas nodded as he went back to work, showing he was still listening.

"Alright, well, don't take my word for everything here because I may be wrong on some of it. But! There are these things called skinwalkers, in English anyway. They're a thing most notably spoken about from Indigenous tribes around the southwest, like here and Oklahoma and stuff. Typically they're described as shapeshifting beings with deformed, almost, humanoid bodies. The origins kind of vary based on where you get it from, but some traditions say that they used to be powerful medicine men who succumbed to evil. Some other origins think that they're people who committed a deep sin." Your hands moved with your words and you occasionally paused as to not stutter over the words. Though it was a taboo topic to speak about and not something Thomas would've ever sought out, he listened. Pausing his work to stare at you lovingly as you rambled about a creature that was probably pretty nightmare-inducing. He couldn't bring himself to be disturbed. Only succumb to the adoration in his chest.

❀Bubba Sawyer❀

Bubba's neurodivergent as well, they have their hyperfixations, but sadly can't share them much. One, because her family often expressed annoyance so she's no longer willing to show them. Two, she can't really talk. He's only able to babble things that sometimes sound kind of like words.

But oh, oh he ADORES when you share your interests or ask him weird questions. It brings him so much joy. And they feel so seen when you acknowledge they want to share something with you as well. You become Bubba's hyperfixation safe space and he returns the effort tenfold. (Her fixations are jewelry & fashion magazines)

She'll never not listen to you. Of course, if he's working, he'll need to be focused on that. But you're more than welcome to sit nearby and keep talking. They take note of everything you say, and if it's something he can find and give to you? They'll search for something you'll like so hard every chance they get.

Bubba patted his hands on his lap as you sewed a hole in his apron. Though Bubba knew how to sew, and enjoyed it, sometimes their big hands made it difficult. That and their random muscle spasms. But, you were always willing to help, something that made his love for you triple almost every day. You smiled as she leaned in to watch you work more closely. "You know, Bubs. Maybe I should make you a dress. I have a few designs I think you'd look great in." You said. Bubba's brown eyes widened and she squealed, watching you finish the stitch, placing the needle down. As soon as he was sure you wouldn't get pricked, he squeezed you in his arms, making you laugh.

You set his apron in his lap and stood up, grabbing a busted-up sketchbook that they'd grabbed off a meal once. You sat back beside her and flipped open to a page. Bubba flapped her hands excitedly as she caught sight of a chubby figure in the concept of a flowy dress. "See, I tried to consider what would be best with your work. I figured sleeves would get in the way so I kept them either short or just as straps, adjustable of course." You explained as you pointed to the sketches. "I mostly took inspiration from those magazines you have. Most of those dresses have shirt tops and blouson cuts, but I couldn't help myself by when I imagined you in a sundress." Your smile grew wider as Bubba wiggled in place, letting out happy squeals and excited squeaks.

You began to ramble about different waist cuts and fabric patterns, colors that you felt would compliment Bubba's skin tone. Eventually ending up in his lap as he squeezed you, rocking back and forth. Feeling adored and cared for. No one else had ever put in this effort to indulge her and she felt ready to cry from joy. You hummed and turned a page. "You know, I think a babydoll cut nightgown would also be real cute on you.~" You purred, going to slowly turn the page again. Bubba caught sight of a slightly revealing babydoll cut "nightgown", with detailed lace, clearly meant to be a bit see-through. They squeaked and covered their face. You laughed fondly and reached to place kisses on the backs of their knuckles.

❀Stu Macher❀

Again, you think this dude doesn't have ADHD? There ain't no way in hell. This man is a poster child for unmedicated ADHD if I've ever seen one. His hyperfixations being horror movies and true crime, clearly. He loves to have someone to rant about these things with, but a lot of people aren't down with it. Imagine his joy when he found out you were. And even more so when you do the same back.

He's a bit hard to get into things that don't already interest him. But, he does his best to listen anyway, since you do that with him. However, if you have a similar interest to him? Stu is all over that shit. He finds you so sexy when you rant about the cinematography of your favorite movie or the psyche of a fictional killer.

If you know you have ADHD and tell him, you might actually be able to convince him to get tested. It won't change anything, but Stu being on meds would probably help him out in school...or it would just help him be more down to earth. That's wishful thinking though.

"Babe! Baby, babe babe babebabebabe!" Your voice cut over the movie Stu was watching, making him pause it. The image of Jason standing in a doorway to a cabin fizzled and glitched on the old TV. He laughed when you dove over the back of the couch, setting down the snacks and drinks you brought, quickly turning to face him. "I have theories and I need to spill them before I forget about them." You said. Stu grabbed a soda and cracked it open. "Well spill then baby! I'm all ears!" He grinned, taking a large gulp of Dr.Pepper. You got yourself comfortable and cleared your throat, starting off with a deep breath. "It's about the Ghostface killings recently." Now that caught his attention. "Yeah? What'cha got, babe?" Twisted excitement formed in his chest as he awaited your words.

"I don't think there's one killer, I think there's two." His brain sparked up and his heartbeat arose, leaning his arm on the back of the couch as he listened. "See cause, when Casey was in her house, she was called on the phone and the killer talked to her right? They probably were giving her things to make her think she could survive, if it were me I'd choose...like, a trivia thing. Get the answers right, ya live. But of course she didn't They killed her boyfriend on the porch while she was still on the phone, but then evidence showed someone was in the house to hunt her down. That doesn't make sense! There would be no feasible way only one person could utterly tear Steve's organs out and then get into the house without her noticing. She probably had both doors locked anyway! But, if someone else was already inside while a second killer Jack-The-Ripper-style killed Steve, it would make so much more sense!"

Stu ran his tongue along his lower lip, watching you get more animated and invested into your theory. Despite talking about a recent murder of peers, the terrifying concept that there were two people out there ready to commit horrific acts, you were smiling. Buzzing off excitement while talking about a murder. "And! The amount of strength and time it would've taken to tie her and pull her over a tree branch, not being seen? One person doing that is hard to believe, but two people? That's a piece of cake!" You declared, only to be cut off by a passionate kiss to the mouth. It silenced you for a moment, but it didn't do anything to your stuttering heartbeat. Stu pulled back with a smug grin. "You're so sexy when you dissect murder plans." He said. You snorted and let out a loud laugh. "I'm a fuckin' freak, huh?" Stu laughed. "And I love it, baby!"

❀Billy Loomis❀

He deals with Stu every day, he's used to it. Billy's not one who infodumps or hyperfixates, but he's not incredibly annoyed by it. Most of the time anyway.

If you catch him in a bad mood, he might ask you to be quiet, but it's not personal. It's not that he doesn't care or anything, he's just not in the mood for a lot of information being said to him at a fast rate. Most of the time though, he'll be perfectly fine with it.

He won't really get into it with you, but he'll support your interests and occasionally entertain your weird questions. Billy's particularly happy if your hyperfixation benefits him, however. Like with Stu, true crime & horror movies are things he's always willing to hear about.

Billy paused the movie and looked over. "You've been chewing on your lip this entire time, just spit it out." He said bluntly, though he had a calm smile on his face. Both of you were sat in your bedroom on your bed, watching a copy of Halloween H20 that you'd rented. Billy didn't really like movie talkers so you'd tried your best to hold it all in until the end, even if you had a million things to say. But he knew better and he was in a good mood. As long as you weren't talking over the movie, he wouldn't have a problem. He bit back an amused snicker as you let out a relieved breath and got ready to rant.

"I was just thinking if there was maybe a reason Michael can survive so much. Cause like, he is human. He needs to eat, we hear him breathe, even if he doesn't die he does get wounded by people attacking him. So it's not that he's a demon, even if Loomis calls him pure evil, so maybe there's a medical reason he can withstand all that!" You began. Billy set the remote down and pulled himself up to sit against the headboard, crossing his arms and nodding, urging you to continue. "Okay, so, hear me out. What if he just has a surplus of stem cells? Like, they're out of control." You said, starting to talk with your hands. "Stem cells? Remind me what those are again."

You huffed and muttered something fondly about how he failed biology. He snorted at the comment. "Stem cells come from your bone marrow and they're what helps you heal from stuff. Like, if a section of your liver is removed? Stem cells will make the organ grow back to the perfect size for your body. When we get older, they tend to slow down, which is why it takes longer to heal from stuff. But theoretically, if Michael just has a fuck ton, he could come back from almost anything. As long as he has bone marrow, he'd keep producing stem cells, and he'd keep healing. At that rate, even old age couldn't kill him. Old age doesn't kill you, it's just your body's functions shutting down because of old dying cells." Billy hummed and rose his eyebrows, considering your theory for a moment. He then nodded with a smile. "That would actually make a lot of sense. A lot better than the cult idea." You beamed. "Thank you! Also yeah, that movie was fuckin' awful." He laughed and opened his arm, allowing you to lay against him. "You gonna let it play now?" He asked, to which you nodded. He patted your arm and grabbed the remote, allowing the movie to play again.

❀Brahms Heelshire❀

Aight, he's autistic, he doesn't have ADHD. He needs strict structure, he has no idea how you just wing everything. You're all over the place! It's frustrating! ...sometimes, other times it's fun to watch and listen to you. Brahms hasn't ever really had friends, not ones that seem so excited to talk to him anyway. It's a nice change, actually.

He'll start to be more comfortable with sharing his own thoughts on things he's really into. Brahms has never been able to speak for an hour on a chapter in a book before, and he feels really at ease when you listen to him. He's a bit hypocritical and occasionally tunes you out when you're ranting, but he'll usually try to listen.

Brahms is amazed at how many topics you can seemingly flow into, even when starting on something completely unrelated. He's endlessly entertained by you, so much so, that it'll occasionally make up for you accidentally letting time get away from you and going off schedule. Occasionally.

Brahms cleaned his brush as you spoke, running it over a napkin to dry it off and ensure it wasn't holding any more of the green paint. You'd been rambling for an hour now, more so to yourself than to him. The noise was a nice change from the deafening silence that he'd been used too in the walls. Brahms lifted his mask slightly to take a bit of the sandwich you'd made him, allowing himself to tune back into your rant. "Actually, some people have said that there's a stage of decomposition where the stench is almost sickeningly sweet. I've never smelt it like that though, the stench of death is pretty recognizable as not sweet." Brahms stopped mid-chew and stared at you. Where in the hell had you gotten this from? He could've sworn you started on food first.

"I wonder if cannibals found that smell appealing, actually. Maybe they considered it the "still safe to eat" time for when a body is already dead. I imagine they'd want it fresh though." You muttered whilst putting away a glass. "Actually! Interesting fact, some cannibals have described human meat as being akin to pork, just with a strong & bitter aftertaste. And the more muscular someone is, the chewier they are. Also I think I read once that tattoo ink has a terrible taste, which would make sense I suppose. In history, human was sometimes described as long pig or hairless goat!" Brahms cleared his throat and snapped you out of your train of thought. You made eye contact with him through his porcelain mask, seeing his look of confusion and slight concern. You chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of your neck. "I don't know why I know these things, but I promise it's not from personal experience." You reassured.

Brahms sighed and shook his head. You untensed a bit when he let out a little chuckle, one that was deep and genuine, not covered by his "child" voice. "You have got to be the most interesting nanny I've ever had." He said, accent thick as he spoke. Your face heated up and you let out a soft laugh, nodding. "Probably the most out there for sure. I'll take that as a compliment and uh, stop talking about cannibalism now." Brahms nodded and took another bite of his sandwich, pushing the chair out next to him with his leg. You took it with a smile. "How about you talk instead, hm?" You offered. Brahms cleared his throat again and nodded, he had plenty of things to discuss. Perhaps the eras of painting styles would be a good choice.

(bet you thought the cannibalism was gonna be in Thomas or Bubba's huh? YOU THOUGHT WRONG)

[akkkkollle]

Hey can I request ran or rindou as a Camboy? (Anything is rlly fine with me :) thanks

🕸Pairing: Ran × M!Reader, Rindou × M!Reader.

🕸Words: 800+

🕸CW/TW: camboy!au, teasing, pet names, dressing up, vibrator, sex on camera.

Ran. 

Oh, fuck... He's just a little brat, there are zero other words. The most depraved bitch that can exist. He's willing to do almost anything just to satisfy his ego. 

Viewers may get the impression that he is the dominant bottom, but he is not. He's just an absolutely teasing bitch, until he gets what he wants, he won't give up. 

Money. He won't do anything if they don't give him as much as he asked for. Did he ask for 1000? Did they give him 999? Don't expect anything. 

Perhaps one of the very good models. That is, damn it... Have you seen him? He can even spread his legs beautifully. And to untie his braids, it will be incredibly sexy anyway. 

- What is it, my dears? Want to see more? Well, since you've been so kind to me, then keep the reward. - his legs slowly spread apart, just as slowly exposing his dripping cock and gorgeous ass, his hips gently lie down on the sheets, and his hand returns to his cock. 

He doesn't like to show you and probably never will. Why? He becomes the complete opposite of himself when he's with you. He doesn't want to destroy his image. But they definitely know about you, why? 

- Oh? Are you wondering where these hickeys come from? - he runs his hand gently over his neck. - They have been since yesterday. Well, more precisely nights, hehe. 

And they also saw your hands once, yes. 

-Ah, I'm going to die now... he sighs, panting from the orgasm. - How many have there been already? And how many will be... 

He gasps in surprise, feeling your hand on his forehead. And then on the hair, when you gently stroke them, and then pull away. 

- Idiot. - he chuckles, straightening his already disheveled hair. 

Hell, if you ever want to see him in a suit. It doesn't matter which one. He will definitely wear it, if, of course, he is well paid. But if he suddenly finds out that you like a certain costume much more than others, it will only be yours and his, no one else except Rindou will know about it. 

- Are you serious? - you ask, feeling the arms around your neck. 

- I want you to fuck me, I'm in your favorite. - he walks around you, standing in front of you and damn it...

- Whatever you say. - he giggles, immediately moaning, feeling your hands on his body. 

Rindou.

Oh, my God. Sweet baby, I'm serious. The complete opposite of his brother. He's soft and very sensitive Ran too, but he's so precious. 

Very moaning, although he usually hides his sounds by biting his lips and doing everything slowly enough to control himself. 

He doesn't care too much about money, he will fulfill almost any request within his capabilities. But only if you ask him well. 

Inexperienced in this topic, that is, he has been doing this for quite some time, but still... He just hasn't tried much, and it's not particularly interesting to try something alone. 

- Mgm... Damn, damn, damn! - very quiet moans come from his mouth while his head is thrown up, his hands tightly grip the bases of his dick as he whines from loss of pleasure. - It's not as good as I imagined... 

That's why you're a frequent guest on his streams. Do they want something new? Your name is already echoing around the apartment, and then... 

-Are you sure it's going to be good? - his voice trembles slightly when he sees a small vibrator in your hands.

- I'll clean it right away, if you don't like it, don't worry. - you gently press it to his tip, causing loud moans that he no longer holds back. 

Well, he's a little timid, so I don't think he'd wear a costume on camera, for you maybe, but for them it's unlikely. But for something small (like stockings, maybe some underwear, etc.) he agrees. 

- Awkward, are you sure it suits me? - he runs his hand over his legs, which are wearing stockings of a delicate blue color. - Well, it's a little weird, but if you like...

For you:

- M/N, it's embarrassing, idiot...

- Come on, it suits you, you know? - you run your hand over his leg, stroking the fabric of something. 

-You're an idiot anyway. Forcing a man to wear such a thing... 

-A sexy man, baby. - he just snorts, giving up.

[xjulixred45x]

OKAY! I HAVE SUCCUMBED TO THE VOICES OF MY LATEST HYPERFIXATION: LEGO MONKEY KID! UNTIL I SATISFY THEM I WON'T BE ABLE TO WORK ON ANY REQUEST! Get ready for the most absurd rants you've ever heard about Jttw, lmk AND EPIC THE MUSICAL! YOU ARE WARNED!

I find it somewhat funny how the vast majority of adaptations of Sun Wukong leave out that the Monkey King HAD A WIFE. a fucking wife that he KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO BECOME HIS BRIDE.

She literally appears singing about this :'D before Nezha and his father rescue her.

and while I was learning about this, I couldn't help but think about the songs from Calypso, from Epic: the Musical (another recent hyperfixation) and in some way relate it to Monkey Kid.

after all, LMK's Wukong knows that the things he did when he was young were QUESTIONABLE to say the least (he literally said it) and that he regrets many things, and I wondered what his dynamic would have been like in that case with Jiaozi (his "wife ").

and that is precisely why I relate it to Love in Paradise in a certain way.

Like, we know that this Wukong definitely had good intentions, which were initially driven by good reasons, but which became more and more selfish, so here perhaps he could have brought Jiaozi to Flower Fruit Mountain as a direct response to 1- monkey logic + 2- after his trip to the west he needed a way to deal with loneliness and 3- demonic courtship is WILD.

Anyway, I can see this more (ONLY IN LMK) as a response to mourning and handling loss (the Brotherhood? Macaque? is up to your interpretation) and that he really doesn't know how to manage/communicate his emotions in a healthy way.

Imagine being Jiaozi, being taken from your comfortable princess life overnight, waking up in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE with a monkey man who is too... friendly to be a kidnapper?

Like, lmk's Wukong acts just like Calypso, with a lot of familiarity, his normal confident post-trip to the West self, explains the situation to Jiaozi (but in a much friendlier way than it really is) and she's like "uh HELL NO" but there really isn't much to do against the literal Monkey King, THE SAGE, THE EQUAL TO HEAVEN, and poor Jiaozi is having a full-blown crisis while Wukong doesn't understand why she's so distraught, don't she understand him? They have everything they want and need in the mountains!

Ironically other texts also described Wukong as a "spoiling husband who gave a lot of clothes/food/things to his wife" and that was probably the route he took after the beginning, Wukong has a lot of trash, but he was more than willing to share with Jiaozi as long as she was happy, that she wanted him back...love him Back.

He JUST doesn't understand the seriousness of the matter that KIDNAPPING YOUR SPOUSE REALLY IS...until Nezha and His Father come along.

Now, I don't think Wukong is stupid even before that happens, he would see Jiaozi's clear anguish, her sadness, the desire to return to her old life with her family, and although he consoles her and such, he is having a crisis, This is supposed to be normal, right? So why does he feel so bad when he sees her so distressed?

The glass fills slowly but surely.

I don't think he was a bad husband Per se, like I said, he was very pampering and such (maybe even Jiaozi sees him in a certain positive light, even if not as a husband, because of his good deeds of the past), but he had a big problem with taking things too lightly and not dealing adequately with his emotions.

so when he receives the ultimatum from Nezha and company, he has a very Im not Sorry for Loving You moment.

in which he does just that, he explains to Jiaozi that he let her go with Nezha, that he regrets having made her go through all this just out of selfish fear, and he very much regrets not regretting loving her even so (many years of being alone screwed him up a little head, so this type of interaction definitely marked his isolation even more in the future).

Even if in lmk Jiaozi doesn't keep track of him or anything like that, she makes it clear to him that she couldn't love him the way he wants her to love him. and it hurts, but it hurts good. because he learns from it.

(PS, it would be quite ironical if this Jiaozi marry Nezha of all people lol)

waaaaaaa I just love finding parallels between my hyperfixations, I will soon publish another one, but it will be much fluffier and from this same fandom.

(the songs that give the idea)

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[acewithobsessions]

Headcanon ask game yayyy I love it!

I’m thinking what if Thomas went back to his parents’ house to tell his dad and mom he was leaving Britain forever to live with his partner in America. Because he knew he would never see them alive again. Although he very much knew his father would deny him once more, he just hoped maybe in his father’s twilight years, he would finally accept who his son was.

In my mind, Thomas really craved his father’s approval more than anything. That was projected to Carson since Downton became his home. But all was rooted in his father. So he wanted to have this one last chance to turn things around. Because Thomas knew that this was the only way he could truly accept himself, no matter what others think of him now.

I think when you watch Thomas’ expressions, even when he was invited back to be the butler, or when he smiled at Guy after he resigned, you can still see there was a glimpse of sadness behind his eyes. Maybe that was why.

So, do you think Thomas and his father could be reconciled with each other? And how about his mother? I think she would be more accepting (or perhaps she didn’t really care much idk)? Somehow I got the idea that Thomas was the only boy in the Barrow family so it mattered more to his father. Anyway, please tell me what you think <3

Oh man YES!!!!! (For some reason, as soon as you said it, I pictured the scene from les mis where Marius asks his dad for permission to marry Cosette??)

That part about Carson? Yes, PREACH. I love love love it when people pick up on this. It's one of the most fascinating bits of his character, imo.

Ok so in my personal headcanon, the reason he started work a bit later than was typical (he did this right??) is because his mother died, meaning there was no longer any sense of security at home. (Also because from what I remember, he talks about her in the past tense.) But if she were still alive, that adds even more layers to the whole thing. I'll have to set aside half an hour of my usual pacing to think about this lol

I'd imagine he shows up to their house kind of stiff, with a sort of "f*ck it" attitude. Guy's not there. He understands that this is something Thomas has to do by himself, and Thomas wasn't exactly eager to let him meet his parents, either.

There's no small talk -- he barely even comes inside. He just finds his parents and deadpans, "I'm leaving."

"What?" his mother asks, a little bit breathless.

"I'm leaving," he repeats. "I've got a beau and I'm going to America with him."

There's a familiar flash of anger across his father's face, but he looks so tired that it swallows it right up. He stands up and leaves. For a second, Thomas wonders if he's found ways to keep his thunderstorm inside, to stop it from raging and having the lightning strike others. He wonders if it makes a difference. It doesn't, he decides, but all the same, it's good to know.

(He wonders if he knows just how much the storm can hurt you when it is stuck inside.)

His mother asks him questions until she is satisfied. She doesn't approve, he knows that. But she knows her son is happy, and maybe enough of her cares that her disapproval isn't the most important thing to her anymore.

He finds his father leaning over the table, staring into space. He starts into his pre-prepared spiel - I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, this is who I am, blah blah etc - but his father cuts him off.

"I'm not happy for you." He still won't look up. "But truth be told, I don't think I'd have been happy for you if you'd settled down like the rest of us. I don't think I'd have been happy with anyone." Finally, finally, he looks up. They have the same eyes. How has Thomas never noticed this before? "You survived me. I guess that's as close to close as we're going to get."

Is he high? Maybe he's drunk. He looks sober enough, but Thomas can't connect this person with the image of his father he has in his mind.

Thomas leaves without feeling as though anything's been accomplished, but nothing got worse. Pick your battles and all that. Just as he's leaving, he thinks that maybe, maybe, his father's storm has blown itself out.

Ough, sorry, I wasn't actually trying to write anything. Anyways, all in all, I'd absolutely love to see this kinda thing, whether it goes horribly or not. (Tbh, I think his dad being so articulate in this iteration points to how he's been thinking about this for a while. Which is probably optimistic. So this is one of the better situations...)

Tysm for the ask!! Wonderful idea :D

[putuponpercy]

Hi I haven't written a fic for this fandom in over a year but I saw the first couple paragraphs in my drafts last night and went in a trance at 1am finishing it anyways here's a little snippet from The Early Days section of my They're Just People AU enjoy

-

Thomas glared at the small flock of seagulls a short distance away, fighting over the small scraps of food Edward threw in their direction. "You shouldn't feed them.”

His colleague merely shrugged. "A little won't do too much harm," he said, chucking another scrap towards the hungry birds.

"Nasty things," grumbled Thomas, shaking his head. "Lost many a decent meal to them back when I was on the streets.”

"Well you needn't have to worry about that now. You're plenty fed.”

A tut and an eye roll was Thomas' only response.

Come to think of it, the young’un had been in a particularly sour mood for the majority of the day. More so than usual. Reaching into his lunchbox, Edward pulled out half a sandwich then held it out to his companion. “Sarnie for your thoughts?”

Thomas wrinkled his nose. “Ain't tuna is it?”

“Chicken and sweetcorn.”

Satisfied Thomas plucked the sandwich from Edward’s grasp, wasting no time in scarfing it down while Edward waited patiently for his colleague to spill the beans. He didn't pressure Thomas, even after the young lad had finished eating and opted for fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater in silence. He knew Thomas would speak up in his own time. For whatever reason, ever since that fateful night the pair crossed paths at Barrow Central Thomas had chosen to put his full unwavering trust in Edward, although Edward wasn't exactly sure why. All he did was offer the lad a hot meal in exchange for getting him and his engine across the bridge.

“Reggie and Bart returned to the Main Land this morning.”

Speaking of.

Edward's brow raised in surprise. “Have they? Huh… that's the first I've heard of it.”

“And Alfie and Raymond are leaving this evening,” continued Thomas. “Isaac and Harry too.”

Humming, Edward grabbed the flask sitting next to his lunchbox. He unscrewed the cap and took a small sip of his tea. “Seems more and more are heading back by the day.” After another sip he gave a reassuring smile. “Worry not, I'm sure it'll be us soon.”

“And then what? What happens after we leave here?”

“Well… I suppose it's back to passenger trains and goods runs across the Furness line. Shame really. Not that I'm complaining, no. But Sodor’s been a breath of fresh air I suppose. Nice to feel useful after…” Edward trailed off, trying to shake off the memories of how his coworkers back on the Main Land often spoke down or belittled him. “Still, the Furness Railway is my home.”

The two lapsed into silence, though it wasn't comfortable, the air still felt as if something was left unsaid. Taking a quick peek at his pocket watch, Edward wasted no more time in packing up his lunchbox. “Right, come along you. Sir Topham Hatt wanted to see us before our goods train this afternoon.”

“Is’at right? What could the Fat Controller want to see us for?”

Edward tsked. “I do wish you wouldn't entertain the other's idea of such a demeaning nickname.”

Thomas waved him off. “Shove off will ya, it's not like we call him that to his face.”

“I dare wonder if that makes it even worse.” Shaking his head, Edward continued, “Regardless, we should make haste. Who knows, perhaps he'll tell us our loan period is up ‘an all. That this time tomorrow we'll be the ones crossing that bridge back to the Main Land!”

“Back to Furness Railway, you mean?” Thomas asked quietly, expression unreadable.

“Precisely.” Tilting his head to one side, Edward frowned. “Hadn't we just gone over that?”

Abruptly, Thomas stood, balling his fists at his sides. “But Edward- I don't work for Furness Railway, remember? You picked me up off the streets because you didn't have a fireman. What's going to happen to me once we go back? They'll kick me out the moment they realise I'm not one of them! I can't go back to living on the streets, Edward - I can't go - I don't want to go back there! I-”

Two warm hands gently clasped Thomas’ own that had found their way up to gripping his hair somewhere amidst his panic. “Thomas, I need you to breathe for me. Deep breaths now, in - and out. Good lad, and again.”

Thomas followed suit, taking a few shaky breaths. When had his breathing gotten out of control? When did he start crying for Christ's sake? His hands slowly lowered from his head, feeling Edward give them one last reassuring squeeze before pulling away. “...sorry,” he said pathetically.

“Don't be daft, you've got nothing to be sorry for,” Edward replied without a beat. His gaze softened. “I should apologise. I had no idea how distraught you had been feeling about all this. I just wished you had brought it up sooner rather than letting it build up like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said again. “It's just that, coming here - to Sodor - has been the best thing to ever happen to me, least from what I remember. I have a roof over me head, I don't have to worry about when my next meal will be, I have a job, and you- Edward you've been ever such a good friend to me.” He paused, batting a hand across his damp cheek. “I'm terrified to lose it all.”

Edward swallowed a lump in his throat at being called ‘friend’. He never had quite gotten along with his coworkers back home, so in a sense, Thomas was his first real friend since joining the railway. He placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “I wouldn't be such a good friend if I allowed you to go back to living on the streets, would I?”

Confused, Thomas asked, “But where else would I go?”

Edward shrugged. “Well, while my flat isn’t exactly grand in size I'm sure there's some room to squeeze you in.”

Blue eyes widened. “What? You're saying I can come live with you?”

“I mean- only if you'd like to-”

“Of course!” Thomas cried, leaping over to squeeze the other in a hug. “Thank Edward, thank you! I won't cause no bother I swear!”

Edward grinned. “No bother? That doesn't sound quite like you,” he teased, giving the other lad a pat on the back.

Pulling away, Thomas matched him with a cheeky smile of his own. “Well- within reason, of course.”

“Of course. And I'm sure we can try and get you work on their railway, although the chances are it won't be as my fireman, there are still plenty of opportunities. Even if it's something as giving Old Coppernob’s engine a good polish.”

“As long as it's nothing to do with stinky fish I'm up for anything!”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, Edward took another glance at his pocket watch and almost gawked at the time. “Right, come along you, we're running late! Don't want to keep the Fat - I mean - Sir Topham Hatt waiting.”

Renewed with energy and anticipation for the future the pair climbed aboard their engine together ready to tackle the rest of the day ahead, unbeknownst to them that the Fat Controller was about to drop the bombshell that Furness Railway had expressed that they now had zero interest in having Edward, nor his engine, return home to them.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

You're enough

Hello, ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between and everyone beyond, behold my first ever A/B/O fic! Non explicit because that's wildly intimidating for me right now, and slightly angsty because it wouldn't be written by me if it wasn't.

There may be some inaccuracies in the anatomy/worldbuilding, but we are going to pretend they are not there and enjoy the show regardless!

Have fun and let me know (kindly, I cry easily) how I did!

It had been well over a year since Wei Wuxian was summoned into Mo Xuanyu's body, and he'd never once gone into heat.

Wei Wuxian had been an alpha in his previous life, and he'd had his fair share of heats as a teenager. He'd had to deal with all the uncomfortable symptoms, the mood swings and the emptiness of not having had a mate to share a bond with - at least until he was thrown into the Burial Mounds and the living conditions there strained his body to the point that his secondary sexual functions all but shut themselves down.

So, the moment he found himself back alive, this time in the body of an omega, Wei Wuxian figured that he would be getting heats again, although a lot different from those he was used to. The fact that he was now married to Lan Wangji made it all the better - he would have someone to spend his heats with and maybe even become pregnant and give Lan Wangji the little Lans he's been teasing him about every time they have sex.

Except... That never happened. Of course, he and Lan Wangji avid by their every day regardless, and Wei Wuxian had been more than happy to help Lan Wangji through his ruts, as well - he figured that might trigger his own heat, and even if not, it would still be fun and very satisfying. And it was, but Wei Wuxian had been only a bit disappointed when his body didn't respond in any of the ways he had expected it to.

They even visited a fertility doctor - the best fertility doctor, in fact, a lady known across the entire jianghu for her skills in pinpointing and fixing any issues that plagued alphas, betas and omegas in their procreative endeavors. She reminded Wei Wuxian of Wen Qing a lot, so meticulous as she examined him, but she found nothing wrong with him. In fact, she seemed quite shocked to hear of Wei Wuxian's issues, because his cultivation fed off yin energy, and so his body should have been teeming with fertility.

She suggested he perhaps had some mental blockages that kept his body from following its regular heat cycles - anxiety, stress, or feeling unsafe and on edge could be suppressing his mating instincts. But there was nothing like that that Wei Wuxian could think of, after all he had never felt safer and happier than he did with Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian petted one of the pregnant bunnies, leaning against a reading Lan Wangji one spring afternoon. "What if it never happens? Not just the heat, but what if I never..."

"It does not matter. As long as you are alive and healthy, we can always adopt more children."

Wei Wuxian snorted a little laugh. "More? We only have A-Yuan."

"The other juniors as well. They often call us mom and dad."

"That's just them joking. And some of them do have parents, Lan Zhan."

"There are never enough parents. It takes a village, I've heard."

Wei Wuxian giggles a bit then sighs, fondly this time, and cuddles further into Lan Wangji's side. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"Mn. I want you to be happy. If you are, I am too."

"Even if I won't give you those little Lans you work so hard for?"

Lan Wangji closed his book and swiftly placed Wei Wuxian on his lap. He didn't even have time to yelp by the time he found himself in his husband's arms.

"I could never want anything more than for you to be alive, by my side. You're more than enough for me."

Wei Wuxian pulled his husband into a kiss, eyelids fluttering over his misty eyes.

"And anyway," Lan Wangji continued as he broke their kiss, slightly breathless, "...we can always keep trying."

Wei Wuxian broke into a fit of giggles as he and his husband rolled into the grass, just the same they did their first time.

[liskantope]

Since the "LGBT+ content in schools" issue keeps coming up, here are some of my thoughts directly on it.

Charitably speaking, I think conservatives are afraid of a particular, narrow, modern, very SJ-ish social agenda and belief system being shoved down their kids' throats. I do have some sympathy with this concern, although I'm not sure the extent to which anything is actually being taught that I as a (more progressive-thinking) parent would object to: I do hear what I would consider disturbing stories but have little way of knowing how embellished and/or unrepresentative they are.

So anyway, a bunch of conservatives have whipped up a moral panic about it and are fighting back with legislating (what are, at least according to some) bans against talking about the existence of gay or trans people at all, or anything about race that might possibly make white kids uncomfortable in any way. Which is absolutely absurd, a "cure" worse than the (possible) disease.

(And disallowing gay/trans/queer teachers from, for instance, disclosing that they have a same-gender partner, even though it's been normalized for decades and is still permissible for a teacher to bring up their opposite-gender partner, is just outright homophobic, period. That shouldn't be too hard to see.)

I've tried reading the legislation (for instance, the so-named-by-opponents "Don't Say Gay" bill), and I'm bewildered as to what it actually adds up to or how it can even function as legislation. What a lot of it says amounts to moderate, common-sense-sounding guidelines that don't actually appear to demand that "gay" not be mentioned in any way, but it relies on phrases like "appropriate for their age group". Well, who gets to decide that? How is this legislation ever enforced or teaching ever policed based on it?

My only guesses as to what conservatives think they're doing is that (1) the laws are almost meaningless but serve as a grandstanding move meant to signal "Hey look, we're on the right side, we're doing something about it!"; and (2) since the wording of the law requires a ton of individual judgment and interpretation, perhaps in the most conservative school zones where all the people in power are sufficiently conservative it really could be used as a sledgehammer to ban ANY mention of anything they don't like.

Meanwhile, I think there could be some common-sense guidelines that allow teachers to bring up the existence of gay and trans people and allude to the issues and even (to kids above a certain age) discuss some of the civil rights battles surrounding them, without shoving any particular highly controversial political ideology down their throats. The idea is to stick with basic facts about social reality. Gay and bi people exist (at the very least, in the sense of people who choose to pursue same-sex relationships). Trans people exist (at the very least, in the sense of people who identify as a different gender than indicated by their sex at birth), and some of them choose to go on hormones or get sex reassignment surgery. Gay and trans people are people too. There has been and still is a lot of stigma against them, and there have been struggles to secure them rights for certain things -- for instance, same-sex couples couldn't get married in most places until last decade! By the way, kids, I prefer they/them pronouns. You're encouraged to think for yourselves about what that might mean and how to feel about it, but it's a preference I'm asking you to respect and you should respect such preferences among your classmates. Mr. So-and-so who teaches in the next classroom has a husband. You probably know several other gay and bi people, and they're people too. Some of you may come to identify or already identify as not straight or not cis.

Of course that won't satisfy everyone, and it can't be done in an entirely non- politically biased way, and conservatives may see plenty of reason to complain that these things are even being mentioned or that the teacher has gone as far as normalizing people who fall under the queer umbrella as human beings without at least criticizing them as having lost their way.

But it's, to my view, subtly but significantly different from very positive actions that go beyond neutrally describing reality with an underlying default of respecting others. That would include enthusiastically pushing kids to analyze their genders and sexualities all the time, telling them "You can be whatever gender you want; what gender would you like to be now?", teaching highly politicized lessons on social justice which involves students rating their degrees of marginalization and separating the room into "oppressors" and "oppressees", constantly centering everything around a scrupulosity-triggering activist mindset, and many more things.

[loveisunison]

speaking of, which pokemon/team would u assign to Leo? :3c I'll be honest, one of my first thoughts was something like oricorio bc it does represent the variety of different music genres/cultural dances which leo might find fascinating, but i think u'd know him much better :D

- @signs-of-blossoming

OMG HELLO HI I WAS SLEEPING BUT I HAVE COME WITH AN ASWER. I'm very excited for this you have awoken the beast.. I'm actually gonna try to keep these as short and concise as possible, but I can't promise much lolll also I apologize for any possible spelling mistakes, I have reading issues 😭 ANYWAY

I've. Thought about this plenty of times but I've never actually come up with a team I'm fully satisfied with </3 nevertheless that won't stop me from sharing some thoughts !!

So first of all because I seriously need to get this out of my system. I need to introduce you to the idea of Victini. Everyone needs to understands this but Leo definitely has a Victini !!!!! From the color palette to the cheerful personality. The fact that Victini tends to do double peace signs just like Leo's "uchuu" and how it being the victory pokémon actually ties into Leo's story.

His story is (in extremely simplified terms) very dependant on victories; from his downfall directly correlated to his victory during the events of Checkmate to his entire !! arc very much being an entire win on a more personal level. Sometimes for better sometimes for worse; but he's always been followed by these victories, and it is said that trainers with Victini always win !!

As well as (although this is a bit of a personal take, but still somewhat based on canon traits) the fact that fire types just really suit Leo in general. And this allows for a nice opposites dynamic with Sena like the one they have in canon, since I picture Sena as a (mainly) water/ice type trainer.

ALSO VICTINI ACTUALLY HAS ITS OWN DAY ON MAY 5TH WHICH IS GUESS WHAT ??? LEO'S BIRTHDAY. YUP (I will never not be insane about this one)

All that being said, I just really vibe with the idea of Leo having a mythical pokémon because they're. Just like him !!! They're these rare and incredibly special creatures that have such fantastic powers, what else is more fitting for a genius like Leo ??

OKAY MOOVING ON. Oh man you're really in it for this one

Speaking of mythicals? Meloetta !! Next pokémon he'd have is Meloetta :3 I think most of it is quite self explanatory. The melody pokemon ??? Yup that's a Leo mon if I've ever seen one. The pokedex entry reads "the melodies sung by Meloetta have the power to make Pokémon that hear them happy or sad" and well ~ I think Leo would most definitely use that to his advantage to make as many people as possible happy.

I also do think Meloetta's sweet personality pairs up well with him since he really just wants to make everyone feel good <3

Now. Next I'd like to tackle your suggestion because you're right !! And I definitely agree. Although Oricorio is more inspired by dancing, I picture one of them would be interested in Leo's music, perhaps wanting to dance to it and would probably end up being dragged into his party.. but its not complaining! It has music to dance to all day after all.

I think Leo would be the kind of trainer to go out of his way to get the nectar needed just so his Oricorio can change forms. Although I think the pompom form is the most fitting for him (and it matches his cheerleader card), he would never willingly try to keep any of his mons confined to one form, in fact he will encourage changing it as much as the little guy wants !!! He's incredibly happy that his Oricorio loves music as much as him and that it wants to express itself through it.

Now onto the next one !! He definitely has a Litleo (heh litleo) because well. First of all he's already lion coded and it's a fire type !! Also Litleo are said to abandon their pride once they evolve to create their own, which kinda makes me reminisce about his story again. Abandoning everything to evolve and become a greater version of himself who can now build his own family (knights) :3

It also fits well aesthetically, which isn't something that particularly bothers me since I prefer these to have a deeper meaning, but it's always a nice touch.

I think his Litleo would be male, although he doesn't care whatsoever because he loves the little thing regardless lol but I imagine it would evolve into a Pyroar around this time in canon, probably during Knights' climax.

Annnnd last one off the top of my head is Fletchling !! I actually have a lot of thought put into his Fletchling's evolution because I think it would be one of if not his first pokémon.

Now the main reasons I'd pair them up are 1. Fletchling being based on a robin. Again related to his story since he's referred to as one (and other kinds of birds) multiple times and associated with bird related metaphors and 2. it being a fire type because like I said, I think fire types fit Leo really well. Plus, I also think a flying type is a must have for someone as free spirited as him.

I picture he would catch Fletchling pretty early on and it would forcefully (too fast from too much battling) evolve into a Fletchinder during the events of the war, causing it to start disobeying him and acting up. Leo would then regain control of it after coming back in his 3rd year (after his shutdown). Annnnd it would later on evolve into a Talonflame around the same time as his Litleo :3

OKAY. That was crazy but it's what I can think of rn !!! Congratulations if you made it this far lmao that was a wild ride, but the team currently stands as:

Victini - Meloetta (aria forme) - Oricorio (all forms) - Pyroar (male) - Talonflame

[jiyeonnnn]

another one, but this one's a softy one and angsty 😚😚

imagine yeonjun being that one violin player in a musical band, but is least known unlike most of those who are in the group as he is a hidden gem or something that can be compared to a music playing in the background like a back track. it's not that he was desperate for recognition, but he just thought that it seems unfair in his part that he creates the beautiful music pieces of their band yet someone elses go out of their way to take credit, them receiving everybody's recognition. all, except you who always had an eye for the violinist of the band.

yeonjun was used to being alone, walking off to who knows where while the others is being crowded with people praising and cheering them, but the moment you stopped him midway, he instantly fell in love with you. especially at the way you glowed when you smiled at him right at the time when he felt so lonely.

yeonjun was happy seeing you support him and it was all he needed to feel satisfied, happiness brewing in the pit of his stomach, as his smiles started to become a usual event and it was that smile alone that brought him to his growing fame. you would have been happy, you really would, hadn't for yeonjun completely forgetting all about you, but you constantly showered him with praises although he started getting colder.

[you finish the story i wanna know what you have.]

it doesn't take long for you to notice the gradual yet consistent change in his attitude. at first, you've only thought of it as stress and exhaustion from yeonjun's side, being an artist is not easy especially if you're making your way towards success, however, as time went on, you have come to realize that this is something more serious than that.

he started leaving you on read more often, ignore your phone calls and would sometimes straight up walk past you like you're invisible. he began drifting away from you, but despite that, you still persisted to provide him the support and praises that he deserves, hoping that someday, yeonjun would come back to his senses and talk to you again regularly like he did before.

you promised yourself and yeonjun that you won't ever get tired of being by his side through ups and downs, but you were wrong. you grew exhausted from all the coldness of the winter nights of his disdain over you, it feels so different now. you have no idea what you did wrong for him to treat you like that. did you perhaps said something offensive to him? hurt his feelings or did something that he might've not like? you weren't sure. the old sunshine you've known of has turned into a thorned and cold midnight rain that slowly drowns you. yeonjun has completely succumbed to the harmful outturn of his growing fame.

hurt by everything, you have decided that it's finally time to let yeonjun go despite how it pains you to do that. you have driven yeonjun to his destination of finally becoming the successful musician that he's always dreamed of. the disappearance of a peasant like you won't do anything good or bad for him anyway, everything will just become indifferent, so you've decided to lay low and find your life from things other than yeonjun.

yeonjun, on the other hand, was living his best life. with everything that he's had with this fame and success, he felt like he had it all, he didn't notice the most important friendship that held and molded him together was falling apart...

you'd still come back to him even if he ignores you... right?

it was only then where yeonjun realized that he's lost you when he saw his number blocked from your phone along with a lengthy message that you sent him a few weeks ago. he felt his heart shatter as he reads your last message. it was just supposed to be a normal day, he was supposed to invite you to a dinner with his band to introduce you to everyone as the one who made it all possible for them. tears brimmed his eyes as he came into the realization of your friendship's fallout.

has he really been ignoring you that bad for you to let go of everything?

: junnie ^^ are you free this Saturday? i wanna tell you something :) it's a surprise though

*read at 1:58 PM*

why didn't you say anything?

: i've been trying to get your attention for the past week but it seems like you have other plans...

*read at 11:54 PM*

how could he be such and asshole to a sunshine like you? you were just doing your job as a friend... how could he neglect the person responsible for his success?

he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks as he reminisced your memories together. all the laughs, jokes, secrets and quite intimate moment with each other, it's all gone due to his stupidity.

he's just hoping that he'd still be able to fix everything and confess what he truly felt for you.

his phone rang...

"BREAKING: NCT's Mark caught on a dating scandal with classical musician Lee Y/N; SM Entertainment confirms"

he's still hoping...

[schizo2709]

On the one hand, I know that having established actor pairs like in the Thai BL industry breeds toxicity within fandoms, especially if the fans' delusions are destroyed. But on the other hand...you've always got something to look forward to? Because you know that if all goes well, you'll see your fave actor or fave actor pair in another BL again, in many more BL series even. And even in between series you'll see him or them at brand events, fanmeets or in concert (even if they can't sing o.O).

But with KBL and JBL (and also Taiwanese BL? Although I think they do have fanmeets?) you kinda know that you probably won't see your faves in another BL again. And it feels like you won't even get to see much of your faves during promo. Or perhaps the language barrier makes it so that you just don't know the right online spaces to get your fix. Even with a well established Thai BL pair like YinWar I hardly find anyone on Twitter that speaks/posts in English and boy, does Google Translate have problems with Thai! Much, much more so than with Chinese, or so it seems to me. But it still feels easier to find anything at all when it's something Thai BL related.

So, long story short, being 'obsessed' with Thai BL seems to be a much more satisfying fan experience than being 'obsessed' with KBL or JBL...? I don't know...I want to see Lee Taevin (how did he get that stage name anyway??) in another BL again, damnit!!!!!!!!!!! :o(

Yeah, that's all... o.O Bye...

[tf2-plus2]

Hey Assassin, what do you think of your teammates so far? ^^

Assassin glanced at a group of the others, then back at Anon. She pulled down her mask for once, "Well. It has been 6 months, hasn't it? ... In no particular order, I suppose I like being around Heavy and Pyro the most. They don't tend to ask me many questions and they're not as loud as many of the others. Pyro I honestly don't find that unsettling?

"Medic I... am not that fond of. Mostly for personal reasons. When he's not talking about his experiments or trying to poke and prod me, we can get along fine. But I do think some of the team see my methods of keeping him.. "in line" with my checkups as extreme... I can't blame them, but as I said, personal reasons.

"Soldier, Scout, and Demo are... loud. It's not a bad thing, necessarily, but the three of them whether alone or with any of the others is... a lot. Soldier is abrasive, but seems to generally mean well, and while his methods are... highly unconventional... they qork. Somehow. Demo does his job well, surprisingly, I do trust him to blow up others and not us. Although blowing himself up is another matter," she sighed and shook her head.

"As for Scout- He has potential. As a mercenary he really does. But he's headstrong and thinks he's invincible either because of his speed or because of all that Bonk! he drinks, and tends to rush into situations without thinking then through.

"Spy... I mean this as politely as possible, in the event he hears this. He needs to socialize more beyond trying to copy me to get his disguise right, granted he does that to everyone. And he smells of cheap wine, cheap cologne, and expensive cigarettes... But I know he has our back on the field, as much as he likes to stab others'.

"And then Engineer and Sniper... I sometimes envy their positions, able to stay in one place all the time. But I have such a hard time being still I'd never be able to do their jobs. Engineer isn't as rowdy as I've seen others from the Texas Panhandle can be, but that's welcome. He also tries to help Heavy and Medic look after the bunch of us.

"And Sniper, despite his eccentricities, is an excellent team mate. He keeps an eye out from the back lines and comes in for 1 on 1 when we need him to. Honestly, I expected more brawling from an Australian, but I won't argue if he gets results and victories."

She sighed, "And of course I'm sure you also mean Retriever. He and I... have perhaps the most in common, and yet our experiences are vastly different. But he's a great member of the team and without his assistance, I don't think we'd do quite as well as we do. I know his random walls of junk out of that HMR Space he uses have saved my ass more than once.

"And while you didn't ask, I'll give my thoughts on Miss Pauling. She's nice, but seems a pushover. I'm happy for her support, but she seems to think she should have a novel thick dossier on me and everyone here in case we rebel. Not everyone is so open about their past and family..."

Assassin looked at the Anon, "Overall, ragtag. Rowdy and sometimes overconfident. Each member has their faults and skills. But together, a good team. Maybe even..." She paused, then pulled her mask back on, "Anyway. I have stuff to do. But I hope this satisfies your curiosity for the moment?"

[katiehwang]

Detective Conan: The Phantom of Baker Street

a.k.a the father & son moments I absolutely love and wish we can see more!

[harmonizingsunsets]

It might be foolish, but you got me all soft

Read on Archive here.

Kate's nose crinkles as she watches Penelope and Colin. Their feet dance with one another underneath the table. He leans over, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. Their smiles are brighter than the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop. Watching them is almost blinding.

"You guys are so cute," Kate observes with puckered lips. "I hate that."

Penelope turns to Kate with a bemused expression. "No, you don't. You love us."

"Love isn't the word coming to mind. Nauseated is more like it."

"Kate, everyone finds us adorable," Colin insists, wrapping an arm around Penelope. "It's not a matter of opinion. It's just a fact."

"I'm happy for you two. Honestly, I am. But you're acting so lovey-dovey and sweet that it makes my teeth ache," Kate jokes, picking up her coffee for a sip.

"If we make your teeth ache, then you and Anthony cause cavities," Colin mutters.

Kate chokes a little on her mocha, causing a few patrons to give her odd looks.

"Excuse me?"

"Colin, we talked about this," Penelope says through gritted teeth, shooting him a disapproving look.

"No, you talked about how we weren't supposed to say anything because they're both so jumpy about it, but I disagreed," Colin protests. "Someone needs to open their eyes."

"Hello, I'm still right in front of you," Kate says, waving her hands at them. "Open my eyes to what?"

Colin and Penelope argue with their eyes for a few moments before Penelope cracks, nodding. Colin turns to Kate with a sly grin.

"That you're in love with my brother."

It was a good thing she wasn't drinking that time, or she'd have to spit her coffee all over them. Although, perhaps a spritz of hot coffee would wipe the amusement off of Colin's face.

Kate feels her cheeks heat. She opens her mouth, but only incomprehensible protesting sounds come out.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Colin says, his smile turning softer. "He loves you too."

"That is not true," Kate insists, standing up straighter in her chair. "I don't love him, and he certainly doesn't love me. Right, Penelope?"

When Kate turns to Penelope, the friend she usually can rely on for back-up is instead chewing her lower lip.

"Well...."

"Pen!"

"I'm sorry, but Kate, Colin's right," Penelope says, the words rushing out guiltily. "I write romance books for a living. I know the enemies to lovers trope very well, and you two embody it."

"That's ridiculous!" Kate exclaims, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. "We drive each other crazy. I mean, we've become better friends over the past few months—but it's not like that."

Penelope tilts her head. "Would it be so bad if it was?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

A hundred reasons that Kate could never utter go through her mind. She wants to say, "Anthony dates pop singers and models, and I can't live up to that." Or she could confess, "When he looks at me a beat too long, I feel like I could combust from the weight of it." Most of all, Kate wants to say, "If I let myself love him, I know that I'll never be able to stop."

But she can't tell them any of that. Kate had been just fine about the prospect of being alone. She's satisfied with her career, family, and friends. But if she admits that she loves him, then she'll never be content with any life that doesn't include him in it.

No matter what Colin and Penelope think, Anthony doesn't love her. He can't. Letting herself hope that he does is too dangerous. It scares her more than any thunderstorm she's ever endured.

"I have to go," Kate murmurs, standing up numbly from the table.

"Kate, wait," Colin says, grabbing onto her arm. He looks apologetic, and it's impossible to be upset when looking into his puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine," Kate insists with a thin smile, tugging her arm away from his grasp. "I got to go. Have a nice evening."

As she walks out of the coffee shop, she hears a cheesy pop tune about love play on their radio.

The lyrics inspire Anthony's face to surface in her mind.

Kate groans, knowing she's in deep trouble.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed but couldn't stop hearing Anthony's teasing voice in her head.

In a huff, Kate gets out of bed and quickly puts on her clothes. She debates whether to reapply makeup but decides against it. No one else will see her where she was going.

Luckily, she's friends with the security guard, who let her inside the building that turned off the lights twenty minutes prior. She thanks him and hastily goes to her office, turning on the light and booting up the computer at her desk.

If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well get some work done.

For a while, all that she hears is the sound of her keys as she typed and the soft hum of music she'd put on to work.

She thought she'd be safe listening to music without lyrics. But Anthony creeps into every note, every chord, and every song.

Just as Kate lowers her head to beat it against the table in frustration, a knock on her door causes her body to jolt upright.

She stands from her chair slowly, walking to the door with caution. No one else would be here this late, so she fears what was on the other side of the door. But if someone was there to hurt her, why would they bother knocking on an unlocked door?

When Kate turns the knob, she sees the face of the man who's been haunting her thoughts for the past few hours (longer than that, if she was honest with herself).

"Hey, what are you doing here so late?" Anthony asks.

"Um, working."

Anthony scans her with curiosity. "On a Sunday?"

"So are you," she points out, crossing her arms.

He holds up a black leather journal. "Actually, I just came by the office for my phone book."

"You have a phone book? Anthony, there's a reason for that contact list on your phone."

"I like writing it down," he defends, looking affronted.

"But you can't add emojis, which adds personality to someone's contact." Kate pulls out her phone and holds out the contacts for him to see. "Edwina has two pink hearts, Penelope has a book, Benedict has an easel, and you have a fire emoji."

"Why do I have a fire emoji?"

"Because you make me want to set things on fire, of course."

Anthony smirks. "Well, next time we play that 'who's most likely to' game in the office, I'll be sure to put you down for becoming an arsonist."

Kate smiles at him, and they fall into one of those moments that's becoming more frequent between them—ones where his body seems to close, and his eyes gleam with something she can't name but feels a kindred sensation within her heart.

Kate takes a step back from him. "Why did you need your phone book so late, anyway?"

Anthony itches behind his ear. Kate frowns, as it's a nervous tick she's never seen from him before. Anthony, like fire, was all-consuming. His feelings were as hot as flames and easy to detect. But now, he looks more guarded, his eyebrows scrunched and his posture squirmish.

"Anthony?" she asks again.

Anthony takes a deep breath. "Well, I actually needed it to call you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. My phone hasn't been working since I went out on the boat with Simon. The bloody idiot knocked it onto the water," he grumbles. "I got a new phone and need to add my contacts back on, which is why I'm lucky I have this phone book which you mocked me for having."

Kate rolls her eyes. "What did you need to call me about?"

"Well, I know we had a rocky start to our relationship—."

"Because you hit on my sister?" she asks, arching her brow.

"I did not hit on her. I merely danced with her at the Christmas party," Anthony corrects with an exasperated sigh. "How many times are we going to argue about this?"

"Until you admit I'm right."

"It'll take a long time for that to happen."

"I've got plenty of time to spend with you."

As soon as those words are out, that heat radiating from Anthony's fire feels warmer. It's as if more time with her is exactly what he wants.

But Kate doesn't let those thoughts get far. She squashes them before they can take root in her mind.

"Continue," Kate tells him.

"Yes, well, as I was saying, we didn't start on the right foot. But, over these past few months, I feel like we've become friends." He looks at her with a hesitant kind of hope. "We have, haven't we?"

Kate smiles. "Yes, we have."

"So, I thought as my friend. You'd like to come with me to this."

Anthony draws two tickets from his pocket and holds one out to her. Kate takes it from in, and her eyes widen as she reads what's on the paper.

"The Vitamin String Quartet?"

"I know you listen to them to relax. I saw that they were touring and coming to London, so I thought that—." His words suddenly halt, tilting his head at her curiously. "What?"

Kate blinks in confusion. "What do you mean 'what?'"

Anthony points at her face. "You were looking at me all funny."

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were! You were looking at me like this."

Anthony imitates a soft-looking expression, gazing at her with an affectionate smile. Kate, in horror, realizes she had been looking at him like that.

"Shut up," Kate scoffs, nudging his arm and hoping it distracts from the blush on her face. "Like I'd ever look at you like that."

"If you're going to be mean, I won't give you the ticket."

He reaches over, but she pulls her hand back.

"Fine, I'm sorry," Kate says, looking down at the ticket in awe. "This is really nice of you."

"So, you'll go with me?"

"Of course I will," she nods, beaming in excitement.

Anthony releases a breath. "Good."

He begins to back out of her office, but she steps forward from her desk, grabbing his arm.

"Anthony?"

He turns. "Yes?"

Before she can second guess herself, she leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls back, it takes a few seconds for his eyes to open, as if he thinks she's a figment of his imagination that will disappear.

"Thank you," Kate whispers.

Anthony nods, giving her a kind smile before leaving her office.

The music on her computer is still playing. Kate hears the gentle notes of a piano, cautious and optimistic-sounding.

The night had been amazing.

The quartet performed beautifully. They played orchestrational versions of pop songs, which makes Kate feel less guilty about listening to them.

She worried when Anthony said he'd never heard any of their music himself, that he wouldn't enjoy it. But when the concert started, she kept stealing glances out of the corner of her eyes. She saw him watching the players with a content expression.

However, the music didn't help her much with her newfound Anthony problem. When she closed her eyes, the violins sang his name. When his hand grazed hers on the armrest of the chair, the music swelled in tandem with her heart.

He was a song she couldn't get out of her head.

And the worst part was, it was a tune she didn't think she'd ever tire of hearing.

They bantered a bit about the weather while waiting for their Uber. Kate claimed the night was perfectly brisk, not enough to warrant a coat. Anthony, however, disagreed. He poked at the goosebumps on her arm as proof and insisted she take his jacket. She eventually relented, letting him drape his jacket over her shoulders.

When he looked away to wave at the car they'd been waiting for, Kate turned her nose to the jacket. She smelt the scent of amber, sandalwood, and something that was discernibly Anthony.

When they get into the back seat of the car, Anthony turns to her. "Can you believe that couple who sat in front of us?"

"I know! They were all over each other the whole night."

"Music is the food of love, but couldn't they have got the meal before the concert?"

"You'd think," Kate huffs, curling her fists further into his sleeves for warmth. She looks back at him, offering a smile. "I had a really nice time."

"I'm glad," Anthony nods. He swallows nervously, forcing himself to meet her eyes. When he does, Kate sees a raw vulnerability glistening in them. "I just wanted to make you happy."

She bumps her shoulder against his. "You do that by just being you."

Kate's words skim a cello string, creating a deep note that lingers in the air. Something flickers in Anthony's expression, his gaze steadying on her. Suddenly, it's harder for Kate to breathe.

"Look at us, acting like that couple," Kate jokes, trying to ease the tension. "The music must be getting to us too."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Anthony hums, moving a fraction closer to her. "Because right now, I feel this urge to put my arm around you."

Anthony gives in to the feeling, putting an arm around her back. Kate's breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles on her arm. Even through the material of Anthony's jacket, his fingertips send electric shocks to her skin.

"And I want to lean my head right here," she finds herself saying, resting her head on top of his shoulder.

"I want to tuck this strand of hair behind your ear.”

Kate feels his fingers skim against his cheek, gently moving a curl that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Her breath quickens, slowly turning her eyes up at him, and the look he's giving her is overwhelming.

"This is all so ridiculously stereotypical. You make me feel so—so..." Kate's words drift, unable to finish her sentence. Her tongue goes out to wet her lips that suddenly feel dry. "I hate it."

Anthony's index finger goes to her chin, tilting it up and off of his shoulder. "Do you hate this?"

He leans forward, kissing her so sweet and tenderly that she knows if she were standing, her foot would pop up like all of those delusionally romantic heroines in movies do when they kiss.

She gets lost in him. Her hands go up to cup his cheek as she deepens the kiss. Anthony's arm moves from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He swallows her gasp, and Kate hears a cacophony of melodies in her mind.

Kate doesn't know how long they stay wrapped in another's arms. It's only when the driver clears his throat that she realizes the car had come to a stop.

They jump apart, and Anthony gives the driver an uncomfortable nod. "Sorry, sir."

"It's alright," he says gruffly and mutters something about "just wait till you have kids, it won't be like this" as they get out of the car.

They stand awkwardly on the street for a few seconds. Kate looks around them. The vivid leaves of the trees stand out amongst the darkness of the night.

Kate remembers when she first met Anthony. It'd been fall, and the trees were bare with leaves littering the ground. It had felt fitting. Back then, her publishing company announced that they were joining one of their competitors. She had to work with Anthony, as they were both the top production editors of the separate companies. Like the leaves, it felt like everything was falling apart. Every smirk or retort of Anthony's felt like the leaves blowing chaotically in the wind.

But now, the trees were alive again, flooding with color. Kate's at the dawn of a new season with Anthony. It's something as inevitable as the change of weather but as everlasting as the stars above them.

No—stars eventually burn out. Kate thinks that whatever is between her and Anthony will continue to burn when all other flames dim.

"So, that happened," Kate says, breaking the silence.

Anthony takes a cautious step towards her. "Yeah, it did."

"I didn't hate it," she shrugs with a teasing tilt of her lips.

"Wow, what great appraisal. Can I list you as a reference for giving me such a raving review?"

"Excuse me, who else are you planning to apply with?"

"No one, I'm quite satisfied with my employment with you," he assures smugly, his hand going up to her cheek. "But, I'd like to have a slight promotion in my position."

Kate leans into his touch. "Oh really, what position do you want to fill?"

"Well, I think I've done everything that I can in the enemy job. I've enjoyed the friend's position. But, if the boyfriend position is available, I'd like to submit my candidacy."

Kate loops her arms around his neck. "Well, how about we check over your application one more time?"

"Where do you want me to start?" Anthony asks, pressing his lips to her temple. "My education?" he murmurs as he kisses her forehead. "My goals?" Kate sighs as his lips move to the corner of her mouth, and his hand curls around her waist. "My experience?" He kisses her again, and Kate feels his smirk against her lips. "Or, my skills?"

Kate pulls back with a smirk of her own. "How about what drew you to this position?"

His eyes gleam roguishly, looking at the lack of space between them. "This particular position?"

Kate tries her best to give him a stern look. "Anthony."

"You," he answers simply, resting his forehead against hers. "Everything about you."

Kate's unable to stop herself, chuckling softly. "Wow, that's incredibly sappy."

"But it's true."

She takes a deep breath, feeling content and peaceful in his arms. "Maybe being sappy isn't such a bad thing."

"No," Anthony agrees, the corner of his lips tilting up as he studies her intently. "I'm starting to think that it's not."

This time when Kate kisses him, she does it without a single reservation about cliches or stereotypes, or how she would roll her eyes if she saw the two of them on the street.

Kate's foot pops, and the song that's been stuck in her head gets set on an infinite loop.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of All Saiyans

-

Masterlist

-

So first things first. I should probably mention that I killed Chi-Chi off before the start of the story. I completely forgot to include it in the notes last chapter. So sorry if there was any confusion there.

Ever since the last chapter, I've been kinda hooked on flashbacks. So there will be another one, this one featuring the man, the myth, the legend, the most ruthless of all the Saiyans King Vegeta. Also, my dumbass finally decided to create a Masterlist. I realized it's much easier than linking chapters individually. 

-

Chapter 7

-

You've been on Planet Namek for approximately two hours, and the day has already been tremendously eventful. You and Vegeta have already had a run-in with Cui, who arrived shortly after you. That purple cretin went out the same way he lived as a spineless coward. Something was extremely satisfying about watching Vegeta drive that failure into the ground. Cui's demise was entirely his own fault. It's common knowledge that Saiyans grow stronger after a near-death experience. Underestimating your brother's growth was an act of pure stupidity.

After that minor inconvenience, the two of you toon into Dodoria's transmission, it sounds like those goons are slaughtering a village of Namekians, so they must store their Dragon Balls in separate settlements. Either that or they're executing them for leisure. Both are feasible possibilities. From what you've been able to gather, Frieza has four Dragon Balls in his possession, and he's currently after his fifth. Frieza even reveals some essential information on how these Namkeian villages operate. Before the signal cuts off entirely. 

Vegeta attempts to find another channel, but they all come up as static. "Those Namekians must be craftier than they look. Something tells me Frieza's scouters are out of commission."

"Perhaps." He turns to you. "Or they figured out we were eavesdropping. Either way, keep your guard up."

The two of you fly around aimlessly. Though you still need to be careful. Frieza is somewhere on this god-forsaken planet, and a run-in with him and his lackeys at the moment would be unfavorable. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something that catches your attention. " I spy with my little eye an unsightly pink blob."

You direct Vegeta's attention to Dodoria, who has his classic disoriented look on his face. "Good eye." He smirks at you before ambushing Dodoria, knocking him into the water. You appear beside your brother on the shoreline, observing the water intently. 

Two pink hands grasp onto the terrain as he pulls his head up, gasping for air. You both laugh maniacally at the pink creature's stupidity. You swear, after every encounter you have with Dodoria, he somehow gets dumber. "Oh, it's you two." He sounds far from pleased as he pulls himself out of the lake. "What the hell do you want?"

"Mind your manners, Dodoria." You scold him. "No need to be crude."

He scowls at you. "Arrogant Saiyans." He mutters under his breath. "That was a dirty trick Vegeta. Although I wouldn't expect anything less from you monkeys." Dodoria straightens his posture in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Spoiler alert, it doesn't work. "You know I can't just let you get away with blindsiding me." 

Vegeta chuckles, rolling his eyes at the monster. "Oh, really now? Just what do you plan on doing? You're all alone. There's no Zarbon or Frieza for you to cower behind. How unfortunate for you."

"I doubt we'll even have to lift a finger." You shrug. "This should be a piece of cake."

Dodoria chuckles, shifting his gaze between you and Vegeta. "You two really think you can take me? You're both as egotistical as that father of yours, and you know how that ended for him. You Saiyan freaks will never be half the warrior that I am." You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palm. How dare he even mention your father. "Listen, I know neither of you desires to fight me. And I don't particularly want to fight you either. So how about you just give me that scouter, and we can forget this ever happened. That's more than a fair deal. I think I'm actually being quite generous." His tone may be confident, but his body language gives him away. Who knew the pink menace was actually afraid of something. 

"So your presumption was right." Vegeta turns to you. "Those Namekians must have destroyed their scouters. This puts us in an intriguing situation, doesn't it Y/N?" Vegeta removes his scouter, tossing it on the ground. "What are you waiting for, Dodoria? Take it."

He eyes you both skeptically, but he still takes the bait. Critical thinking has never been Dodoria's strong suit. "About time you brats showed me the respect I deserve." As he steps closer, Vegeta stomps on the scouter. The wretched thing, smashing into thousands of worthless pieces.

The pink monstrosity sneers. "No worries. I'll just take the girl's scouter." He speeds toward you, extending a hand in an attempt to rip the device off your face. Before he can even touch you, you grasp his arm, bending it behind his back.

"Why do they always think it's appropriate to get handsy with me?" A breathy sigh escapes your lips. "They'll never learn." You remove your scouter, holding it in the palm of your unoccupied hand. "Since you want it so bad." You snap your scouter in half, discarding the parts to the ground. "You ever think about laying your filthy hands on me again, you'll lose them." You toss the fool several feet away. The farther away he is, the better. 

"Why would you--- it doesn't even matter." He stands back up, dusting himself off. "Now, you won't be able to find the Dragon Balls either."

You shake your head at him, a pleased look crossing your features. "Not exactly. You see, Earth was quite the adventure. We picked up a few new tricks. One that leaves those hunks of metal useless."

Dedoria furrows his brows at you, his entire face contorting. "You're lying."

"I'm afraid she isn't. This energy-sensing technique is quite simple. I doubt any of the members of the elite Frieza Force would be interested, though. It doesn't require much strength, and everyone knows you don't care for anything that doesn't involve flexing your muscles." Dodoria is more fat than muscle. It's an irrelevant technicality, one that would only piss off the blob more. 

"I get it now." He seems to come to some sort of a realization. Only you have no idea what the hell he's referring to. "Those two runts I was chasing were earthlings." You stare at him in disbelief. Is it possible for them to be here? Raditz, he's the only possible explanation. But would he really be dumb enough to lead those weaklings to their deaths?

"W-What did you say?" Vegeta's mouth hangs agape.

"So I'm right. The looks on your faces tell me all I need to know. You're working together."

You combust into a fit of laughter, wiping tears from your eyes. This has to be the funniest thing you've heard all week. "Even if those pests were here. Never in a million years would we align ourselves with those soft-hearted fools."

"You must be mistaken. Even if those earthlings were here, we'd be able to sense them." Now that you think about it. Have you been able to sense them? You haven't been looking, but you have felt some strange energy. You just assumed it was some half-wit from the Frieza Force, but now you're not so sure.

 "It doesn't really matter anyway." He rolls his eyes. "You two are no longer any use to me. So either get lost, or I'll have to finish you off myself."

"Why, how generous of you." The sarcasm practically drips from your voice. "I think he's afraid Vegeta."

"Well, can you blame him? His scouter probably told him everything he needed to know. He must have seen my battle with Cui." For every step Vegeta takes forward, Dodoria takes another backward. "He must have seen how much stronger I've become."

"That isn't possible." He scoffs. "Those numbers were inaccurate, and I'll prove it!" He shoots an uncontrollable blast of fire at you both, which you simply dodge by stepping out of the line of fire.

"Was that really the best you could do?" You mock. It was sloppy even for an attack from Dodoria.

He turns around, only to be met with the two of you behind him, floating in the air. Vegeta swiftly moves behind him, grabbing both of his arms, twisting them behind his back. You swear you even heard them snap. "Look how weak you are." Vegeta sneers. "I'm stronger than I've ever been. While you've been sitting on your ass all-day, becoming soft and lazy. I should just end your pitiful life here."

"Wait, Vegeta!" He cries. "I have something to tell you! Something you'll really want to know! It's about your homeworld. I know the truth about Planet Vegeta!" Does that pink blob actually believe he has a form of leverage? What a fool.

"What could you possibly know about Planet Vegeta? You better start talking!" You furrow your brows at your brother. He's behaving strangely. And why is he humoring Dodoria in the first place? Vegeta has to already know about what they did to your homeworld.

"I will, but first, you have to let me go." Vegeta releases Dodoria from his death grip, pushing him away.

"Now, spit it out!" You observe the pair from a safe distance. Vegeta's response is bizarre, and his body language seems to have no ulterior motives. Is it possible that Vegeta doesn't know? You grab your forehead, running a hand through your hair. If that's the case, Vegeta is going to fucking kill you.

"As you know, Planet Vegeta was destroyed, but it wasn't by a meteor. Lord Frieza had started to notice numerous Saiyan babies being born with extraordinary combat skills. You two were the most notable in power. He realized that you Saiyans could really be a problem. You had the potential of becoming a real bother to Lord Frieza's regime. So he decided to wipe out the only race that could ever impose him before they could even become an issue. He destroyed Planet Vegeta with every last Saiyan on it. Well, except for you two. Did you really think it was a coincidence that you were off-planet? So there it is, you two are finally in on our little joke."

You've always known what happened to your planet. But now you've learned the answer to an even more substantial question, why it occurred. Frieza was afraid. He decided to take the coward's way out. How pathetic. 

You laugh, tilting your head backward. "That was your big ploy? I've known about that for years!" Before he can even react, you teleport behind him, impaling your hand through his chest, watching the purple goop ooze out of him. "How stupid did you think we were?" You twist your hand, tossing his lifeless body to the ground before obliterating anything left of him.

Vegeta stares at you in shock. "You knew?"

You raise a brow at him. "You didn't?" You always assumed that it was one of those things that you both knew but never spoke off. Turns out you were mistaken.

The two of you stand in silence. You have no idea what the protocol is for this. You don't know what you're supposed to say. Vegeta looks away, sighing. "It's irrelevant now. It was probably for the best that I was left in ignorance. Who knows what I would've done as a child. I'm just annoyed that you were able to figure it out before me."

You smile at him. Besting Vegeta is not something that comes easily. So you'll take what you can get. "You know, I don't think he was wrong about the earthlings."

"You think they're here?"

You nod. "You gotta remember. Raditz is with them now."

"Good point. When I get my hands on that pathetic excuse for a Saiyan, he'll regret ever betraying us. Let's go. We can't be out in the open for too long."

He hovers in the air, beginning to take off. "Vegeta." He turns back, meeting your gaze. "You know I would've told you, right?"

"I know---" He cuts himself off, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Do you sense that?" You nod, taking off in the direction of the two large power sources. Dodoria had mentioned that they were runts. So one of them has to be the half-breed and possibly the bald fellow. Your eyes scan over the terrain. They have to be around here somewhere. "They must be suppressing their power levels. Only if I still had my damn scouter. I'm not used to this technique just yet."

Bingo. You found them hiding between a few boulders. And your assumptions were right. There's only a slight difference. They seem to be accompanied by a Namkian child. A sadistic grin spreads across your face as their gazes land on you. Just the way you remember them, cowering in fear due to your presence. "You know. It was probably just three insignificant insects." You're not wrong. That's all they are to you. Pesky flies that invade your personal space and make your life slightly more irritating.

"You're right. We don't have time for this anyway. Let's get a move on." You both take off, leaving the earthling issue for another time.

It took you awhile, but you finally located a Namkeian village. Well, actually, you passed several, but this is the only one with a living population. "Looks like we found ourselves a Dragon Ball." Vegeta's lips twist into a sly grin, heading straight into the village. You follow his lead, now standing directly beside him. You've finally gained the attention of the inhabitants, who are now murmuring to each other. Who knew Namekians were such gossips. Their chatter dies down the second Vegeta clears his throat. "I wish to speak to your elder. I believe there is a Dragon Ball here, that we'll be graciously taking off your hands."

"I'm the village elder." An older Namkain steps up. These creatures do not age kindly. "I would ask you what your intentions are, but I can already feel that you are impure. I sense an unspeakable evil in both of you. Neither of you is worthy." What a self-righteous species. They're entirely different from that Namekian you encountered on Earth.

Vegeta shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Only if the Namekians cooperated, Vegeta has never taken the word no very well. "Then you die. Y/N, you do the honors." This could've ended smoothly, with a lot less bloodshed. Too bad for them.

"You got it, Vegeta." You hold up a finger gun, pointing it straight at the elder. "Bang!" A beam of blue light heads straight for the geezer before another Namkian jumps in front of him, absorbing the blast entirely. The body drops to the ground, and all hell breaks loose. 

You begin the slaughter, ending the lives of several Namkeians. Until you freeze, as much as you've been itching for a fight, you're reminded of something far more crucial that you have to fulfill. Damn your morals. They're ruining all your fun. You take one last glance at your brother. These Namekians should keep him occupied for some time. He might not even notice that you ever left. As soon as he turns away from you, you take off, successfully staying off of Vegeta's radar. 

You use your newly acquired energy-sensing technique to track down that Namekian child. Since those earthlings are suppressing their energy, they'll be much more difficult to find. This is assuming he's still with them. Those earthlings aren't like you. Neither of them would be able to stomach, leaving him for dead.

You pinpoint the energy source to a cave. What a strange place for them to reside in. You head into the cavern, only to find some form of futuristic architecture. How the hell did this get here? And what is Capsule Corp? You move toward the door, banging on it. "Knock, knock. Oh, little piglets, let me in! Before I knock the door down. Or worse." You can overhear faint whispering on the other side, mixed with a woman obnoxiously shrieking. "I can hear you panicking. Relax, I have no business with the half-breed, the Namekian child, or any earthlings in there. Now open the damn door."

The door slowly opens, revealing the bald man, whose name you believe to be Krillin. "What do you want, Y/N?"

"I need to speak to Raditz. It's urgent."

"Well, you can't---" Krillin gets pushed to the ground by none other than the infamous Hair Boy himself. This allows you to step inside the building. It must be some sort of luxury living quarters. 

The two of you stand arm's length from each other, matching cold expressions on your faces. "You here to kill me?"

"No." The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Well, at least not yet."

"So why are you here?" His face twists in confusion. "You aren't one to just drop in and say hi."

You take a deep breath, glancing around the room. This would be difficult to say one-on-one, but being surrounded by people makes it ten times worse. "There's something--- I need to tell you."

An arrogant smirk appears on his lips. "What? Did you finally fall for my good looks and charm? Are you finally declaring that you've fallen hopelessly in love with me?"

Your face scrunches up in disgust. "Don't make me ill." That would never happen, even if he was the last male Saiayn in existence, which he pretty much is. "I'm here to tell you the truth about what occurred on Planet Vegeta."

"What are you talking about?" Raditz eyebrows knit together. "A meteor wiped out our people."

You sigh, glancing at the ceiling. "Come on, Raditz. You're a lot of things, but you aren't stupid. There was no meteor. Even if there was one, our people could fly."

"What are you trying to say?" he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shield himself from the inevitable blow.

"Our people were exterminated by that imperialistic dictator." Your voice booms. You're not even attempting to conceal your anger.

Raditz clenches his fists, his hands violently shaking. All he can think about is his mother, how she deserved better. The majority of your people deserved what they got, but not Gine. She was different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Raditz always knew there was no meteor. The story was too perfect, and it was easier to believe that it was a tragedy. "Why?" That was all he could manage to choke out. Did Raditz really want to know? Would he be able to handle the truth? 

The others in the room remain silent, observing you anxiously. You're even more terrifying than they believed. You're not joking around or aloof this time. You're only expressing one thing, pure rage. So you do care about something. Whether you desire vengeance or truly cared for your people is unclear to the earthlings.

"Frieza was terrified. Our people were getting too strong for his liking. The Saiyan population was skyrocketing due to technological advancements. He was scared of what we could accomplish, terrified of the possibility that he could be out-ranked."

A Cheshire grin appears on Raditz's face. "We'll prove to him that he was right to fear us, right?"

"You bet your ass we will. We'll make Frieza regret leaving us alive." You take a deep breath, finally attempting to get your emotions in check, returning to your cold demeanor. "I just thought you should know. Before I killed him, Dodoria let the cat out of the bag to Vegeta."

"You killed that pink asshole? It was about time. How'd it feel?" The other stare at you two in bewilderment. Two seconds ago, you were swearing revenge, and now you're as casual as can be.

"It was extremely satisfying sending that pink blob straight to hell." You purse your lips together, cracking your neck. I should get back before Vegeta blows a fuse." You move to the doorway, stopping dead in your tracks. "Oh, ya one, last thing. Frieza's here."

"We know his men are here. We've already had the pleasure of encountering the Frieza Force."

"Raditz, I'm afraid you don't understand. It's not just his minions. He's here on Namek." Raditz chokes on air, his eyes popping out. You slam the door shut, hearing Raditz's reaction through the walls. The phrases we're so fucked, and we're all gonna die were your favorites of his elaborate babbling. You take off, heading back in the direction you came from.

As you near the location of the village, you quickly realize there is no point in returning. You can't sense any life, and that includes Vegeta. So this means he knows you ran off. You were due for one of his famous lectures anyway. Hopefully, he's not wasting his time searching for you. That would only make your predicament worse. 

You search in every direction, finally detecting your brother's energy to the west. Vegeta's power level is diminishing at an alarming rate. Maybe he's run into Zarbon or worse, Frieza. You take off at light speed, heading straight for the battleground.

Once you arrive, you conceal yourself behind a hill, observing the battle intently. It appears that Vegeta is fighting Zarbon, but something is off about the narcissist. His chest seems broader than it usually is. 

Zarbon turns around, your eyes widening at the ghastly sight. What the fuck happened to his face? He has to be the most hideous creature you've ever laid your eyes on, and there's a lot of competition for that category. This must be an alternate form of his, similar to your Great Ape form. It doesn't surprise you that you've never seen his transformation before. Even though it considerably increases his strength, his vanity has no limit. 

The green-haired egomaniac slams your brother into the ground, creating a blazing explosion. He stares down into the water-filled crater, and Vegeta is nowhere to be found. Your brother has gotten especially good at playing dead as of recent.

Zarbon reverts back into his base form, flying off into the distance. You wait an appropriate amount of time before heading toward the teal mass of water. You scan the lake, searching for your brother. He surfaces back up seconds later, desperately gasping for air. You extend a hand to Vegeta, pulling him onto land. 

He takes a few moments to collect himself before glaring daggers at you. "Where the--- hell did you run off to?" Despite being winded, he manages to find the breath to shout at you.

"I sensed some members of the Frieza Force. Thought I'd say hello." Believable lies are your specialty at this point.

"You can't---" He stops himself, his features softening at your expression. "Just never do that again. No more running off, especially without telling me. I'm serious this time. With Freiza here, I don't want you leaving my side again."

You can feel a familiar power level rapidly approaching, Zarbon's returning. "Change of plans. Go retrieve the Dragon Ball from that Namkian village. I tossed it in the water. I'll take care of the five that Frieza has."

"But, Vegeta." You giggle. "I'm not supposed to leave your side."

He glares at you. "Of course, now you decide to start listening to me. There is no reason for both of us to get captured. Now go!" You move to camouflage yourself again. Zarbon must need Vegeta for something. They most likely found the decimated village and want to question him about the location of the orb.

You watch Zarbon pick up your brother, who's pretending to be unconscious, and he flys away. You wait till you can no longer see Zarbon before speeding off to the Namekian village. Your plan is to retrieve the sphere and then take shelter somewhere. That is until you can sense Vegeta again.

You land in the ruins that were once the Namekian village. Damn Vegeta, did a lot of damage here. Your head snaps to the water. You swear you heard a splashing noise, and it couldn't have been a sea creature. If it was, the sound would've been louder. So what is it? Could it be one of Freiza's goons? If it is, they're probably weak. You'd be able to take them out with ease.

The creature emerges from the water with the four-star ball in his hands. He's a tiny little thing, way too small to be anyone currently in the Frieza Force. Something about the runt seems vaguely familiar. Wait a minute, that's Kakarot's brat. His hair's just shorter than it used to be. Half breeds must be able to change the length and style of their hair, fascinating. 

You sneak behind him with a blank look on your face. "What do you think you're doing, brat?"

Gohan jumps, turning around. "Y/N?" He shrieks, dropping the orb, which you swiftly catch one-handed. He looks around, anxiously searching for something or possibly someone. "Where's Vegeta?" His voice trembles just at saying your brother's name alone. Vegeta must have left quite the impression.

"Vegeta got himself---" You can feel Zarbon's impending presence once again, and the look on the brat's face tells you he can sense it too. This energy-sensing technique is becoming quite tedious, but you suppose it's better than being blindsided. What could Zarbon possibly want now? He already took Vegeta. Maybe he came to search for the Dragon Ball himself? Shit, you can't stay out in the open like this. You grab Gohan in one arm. And the four-starred ball in the other, rushing into a nearby cave. As an extra precaution, you seal the entrance with a boulder. Zarbon may be vain, but he's also significantly brighter than Dodoria was. Though that isn't very hard to do. 

You put a finger up to your lips, signaling for Gohan to keep quiet. The foot-steps outside grow louder. He must be standing right outside the cave by now. "Where are you, Vegeta?" He sounds deranged. So Vegeta did escape. Your best guess for Zarbon's erratic behavior is that Vegeta's prison break put Zarbon in hot water with Frieza. "Lord Frieza is going to have my head if I don't retrieve those Dragon Balls." Your insane brother actually did it. He stole the Dragon Balls from right under Frieza's nose. You're father's probably smiling up from hell as we speak.

You slide against the cave wall, dropping to the ground, leaning your head against the rock. You both might be here for a while. Zarbon is quite thorough with his searches. If he were to find you, it would put you in a tricky situation, especially with a Dragon Ball in your possession.

Gohan walks over to you, sitting down across from you. "Who is that?" Even though he's whispering, he's still being too loud for your liking."

"It's Zarbon. Now be quiet." You cover the orange ball in dirt and moss. If Zarbon does find you, the orb will be hidden in plain sight. Once finished with your little project, you shut your eyes. It's almost like you're alone. And not trapped in an enclosed space with your opposition's son.

"Y/N?" Your eyes snap open, immediately narrowing at the boy. You were about to reprimand him, but that was until you noticed the item in his hands. Your features soften as he extends the necklace to you.

You accept the necklace, grasping it tightly in your hands. "Thanks." A slight smile ghosts your lips before quickly vanishing.

"I was just returning what was yours." He looks at you, nervously twiddling his thumbs. "Hey Y/N? Where did you get that necklace from?" You hold up the jewelry, swinging the chain back and forth, getting lost in the memory.

Twenty-something years ago:

You're sitting down on your bed, with a book placed in your hands. Your gaze scans carefully over each word, occasionally flicking your wrist to flip the page. This is the newest piece of literature in your vast collection. You've only had this book for a few weeks. Vegeta gave it to you when he and Nappa returned from a mission off-planet. The book is all about these things called wish orbs. If you gather all seven, you can be granted all sorts of magical wishes. Vegeta says they're nothing more than a fairytale. That it's childish to believe in such an absurd concept, but you're convinced they exist. You've definitely seen stranger things occur, so it's in the realm of possibility for orbs to grant wishes. 

You hadn't even noticed that your father had entered your room. Until he was standing directly in front of you. Panic overtakes your body, your heart beating out of your chest. You slide the book under your comforter, even though it was much too late to hide the evidence. Your reaction may seem a bit extreme, but it's for a good reason. Books aren't necessarily illegal on Planet Vegeta, but they are forbidden. Your father believes that literacy is a waste of time. He considers combat training to be more essential to the prosperity of the Saiyan race.

"Relax." His gruff voice invades your ears. "I already know about the various books you hide around the palace." The king is a very observant man, making it extremely challenging to keep things from him. His general policy regarding situations like this is, he won't say anything unless someone brings it to his attention. Then he would be forced to move his hand, having to find a proper form of punishment.

"Is---Is there something you need?" It's not like him to drop by unannounced. Your father is a very busy man, sometimes you won't even see him for months at a time.

"As you know, you're going on a crucial mission tomorrow. Are you going to behave for your brother?" You nod in agreement. "You are also not to leave his side, do you understand me?" Ever since the incident, you're not allowed off-planet without either your father or Vegeta. One of them has to watch you like a hawk at all times because of one stupid mistake. That will probably be held over your head for the rest of your mortal life.

"Yes, sir." You decide to give him verbal confirmation as well. This way, you can avoid any potential lectures.

"Now, let's get down to business. While I was out on my last excursion. I found this piece of junk with my things. I thought I'd check if you wanted it before I destroyed it." He holds up the necklace. The pendant immediately catches your eye. It's one of the pictures from your book, the four-star wish orb. 

You nod, accepting the gift. You wrap the chain around your wrist, toying with the trinket. You've gotten pretty good at reading between the lines when it comes to your father. Saiyans aren't meant to express their emotions. You're raised to suppress them. Your father picks up on little things, like the fact that you're currently obsessed with wish orbs. You and Vegeta had to have gotten your conflicting behaviors from somewhere. And that somewhere was your father. The King of all Saiyans, the most ruthless of them all, deeply cared for his children.

He places his hands on your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. His eyes flicker with vulnerability as you stare at him. "Listen to me. Vegeta needs you just as much as you need him. You are capable of things that he isn't. And you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are my sole daughter, the pinnacle of Saiyan pride. Never forget where you came from."

"A-Are you alright? You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, Y/N. Now get to sleep. You have to be up early." He leans down, kissing the top of your head before exiting the room. This only elevates your confusion. Your father has never done that before. Physical affection is not something Saiyan's participate in. At least they aren't supposed to. 

Little did you know, this would be the last time you ever saw your father alive. Looking back on it, as an adult, his strange behavior makes sense. This was his way of saying goodbye. He must have had some inkling about Frieza's plans for your race.

You snap back into reality, shifting your gaze to Gohan. Typically when you spaced out, it would irritate your companions. Maybe it would even earn you a scolding from Vegeta. But the kid has just been sitting there, keenly anticipating your response.

"My father gave it to me." Your tone softens. Nostalgia sometimes does that to you. Gohan is the first person you've ever told the origin of your necklace. It wasn't necessarily a secret. You've just never felt the need to talk about it.

Some Final Notes:

"Wasn't he the king, though? Couldn't he have given you a diamond or gold necklace? Or something fit for royalty?"

"He could have. It was more about the sentiment behind the necklace." And with that, the silence returns. Being in this cave really reminds you of your pod. Scratch that it's worse. The brat is just too nice to the point where it's nauseating. For the half-breed's sake, you hope that Zarbon leaves soon. Because you're not sure how much more of this you'll be able to take.

-

Some Final Notes:

I know some of you might think King Vegeta was a bit out of character. However, I believe King Vegeta did care for his children to an extent. I know there’s some confusion in the fanbase about Tarble, whether he’s canon or not. But since the script for Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return!!! was a concept created by Akira Toriyama. I personally believe Tarble is cannon. So King Vegeta banishing his son, rather than executing him, does show he had empathy for Tarble, even though he was viewed as a disgrace on his entire bloodline.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Can I Take Your Order?

For the anons who wanted a Cat Rick x Reader fic. For My other Cat Rick x reader fics, check out this master post.

——————-

You were about to step out; car keys in hand and with only one destination in mind, but your feline man child of a pet swaggered on over and got in the way. “Baby, I'm hungry.”

“Yeah,” You sighed, already sure where this was going. “and I'm supposed to care because?”

Taking in the sight of your baggy joggers and bleach stained t-shirt, he rolled his eyes. “Since you're ugh - you're clearly dressed to impress, you might as well feed me before you go.”

“I just fed you.”

Pointing at his empty dish, he complained. “But I'm still hungry. You think I'd be satisfied with only th-that much?”

You had hoped so. “I swear to God Rick,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose to keep calm. “if you want food that badly then get it yourself. There must be more than enough in the cabinet. And don’t pretend that you don’t enjoy meow mix, because I’ve seen how obscenely excited you get over it.”

“Come on baby, I don't want to eat any more of that right now. I-I figured you're already wasting your life and cash away at Taco Bell. Might as - might as well pick me up some Mcnuggets on the way.”

“If I'm killing myself softly with junk food then that's my own business, but you, I thought you were given doctors orders to eat better, weren't you?”

“Screw him. He - he only said to cut back on the liquor. He never told me I-I-I had to ruin my quality of - of life.”

You eyed the areas around his neck that were in patches because he couldn't stop scratching and wondered where you had gone wrong in a past life. “Yeah, I don't think so. Until your rash goes away, then there'll be no garbage food for you.”

“But baby, I-I'll starve.”

“No," You flicked his nose, "you won't. Anyway, I'll see you later.”

“But baby…"

"Look, we've already talked about this. In this home, we respect the holy shell of Taco Bell.”

“There's nothing sacred about th-those ingredients.”

Pushing him out of the way, you rolled your eyes. “Tell me something I don't know, fuzzy butt.”

His ears flattened. “There's a-a lot you'd rather not know, but whatever.”

Something told you this wasn't really about food. "Rick, is something wrong? Is this really about food?"

He didn't answer, but he did grab the meow mix and left to sit on his favorite spot; on top of the fridge.

__________

You had grabbed your food a half-hour ago, but couldn't bring yourself to drive home. Thoughts on how uncomfortable Rick must've been feeling kept plaguing you. Did he bring it upon himself with his habits? Yes, but it could have happened to anyone, and considering that he spent his time with mostly human versions of himself, it was possible that a lot of places in the Citadel didn’t cater to felines. It was these thoughts that convinced you of where you ought to go.

You set your directions to lead you to the nearest pet store, and once there you searched for the anti-itch creams and ointments, and cat-safe toothpaste since he couldn't use yours. And although you couldn't get him McNuggets, you did pick up some ingredients to make him homemade nuggets. As you drove back home, you kept asking yourself why you put up with his behavior, and why do you care about him despite it all? Perhaps you were losing it, but after all the time you two spent together, you had become rather fond of him.

Though, it was easy to forget how fond you were of him when he got on your nerves, damaged your stuff, and ate as though he’d never eat again. Still, coming home to see him sprawled out and asleep on your couch, or to find that he had bought you a gift brightened your day. Yet, nothing could top the amusement that comes from having him cling to you the moment you returned home. And as you got home, today was no different. You felt his nails prick at your skin as he latched onto you and complained, “Where the hell have y-y-you been?”

“I went shopping for a few things. Now, are you going to let me go, or do you not want to eat?”

His ears perked at this. “You got me th-those nuggets.”

“No, but I’ll make you some. It’ll take maybe half an hour but…”

“Damn baby, y-your cooking for me now? Do I have t-t-to return the favor somehow?”

Lightly pushing him away, you answered, “Don’t get any weird ideas now.”

“But you never cook f-for me.”

“Yeah, and don’t get used to it.”

A part of you was delighted he was looking forward to it. Who knows, maybe you’ll cook for him again, but only if he doesn’t complain about today's meal.

Fin

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.