#Do All Solar Lights Have On/Off Switch

[tangiblesolar]

Do All Solar Lights Have On/Off Switch?

Do All Solar Lights Have On/Off Switch?

Do all solar lights have an on/off switch? Although not all solar lights have an on/off switch, if yours does, ensure it is turned to “on” before using. In the alternative, cover the panel with a sheet to imitate nighttime, and it should be evident whether it is difficult to see whether the switch is on or off. What is a solar switch? Solar Switch is a practical solar energy alternative to…

[eoieopda]

whiskey neat | jwy

there’s no common ground between yours and wooyoung’s vastly different circles. that is, until tuesday nights at the black cat form the center of the venn diagram.

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader au: strangers to something type: one-shot | smut wc: 8.3k rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: inspired by hozier’s “too sweet”, primarily wooyoung’s pov with one switch at the end; bartender!wooyoung, musician!reader, alcohol use, setting is a bar, uhhh wooyoung is a (to the tune of that arctic monkeys song) cigarette smoker, oral sex (v), protected sex (p in v), corruption kink kind of?, use of “sweetheart” (fatal). reader notes: afab (gender identity not designated); kind of naive; into fitness/“wellness” (no body type/weight is described, except wooyoung thinking they’re “strong” + reader thinking that they are in the best shape of their life); wears a sundress at the beginning. the following terms are used in the scenes involving smut: pussy, cunt, clit, tits (no description given). a/n: i quite literally started this in march 2024 and then experienced the most severe hobby death of all time. this is coming after five (5) months of scooping it out of my brain with a melon-baller, so… not my best, but here she is! thanks @sailoryooons for beta-ing because i’m self-conscious lately 🍤

Tuesday nights at the Black Cat never used to be busy. 

For three years, Wooyoung spent the majority of his shifts behind the bar doing fuck all: Folding receipt paper into increasingly complicated and wasteful shapes; replacing citrus wedges that went unused and then brown; paying visits to the stray cat camping out in the alley near the dumpster. He’d go hours without talking to another human being, and he never took issue with it, even if his wallet did.

Two months ago, however, things changed. 

Two months ago, management started panicking about the lack of revenue. To keep the lights on and draw in a crowd of (hopefully) soon-to-be regulars, they implemented a schedule of recurring events — some monthly, others weekly, most stupid.

Wooyoung’s precious solitude disappeared, and in its place, he got trivia nights and turntable DJs, showing off their collections of vinyls. Games of bingo targeting hipsters, who show up en masse to fight it out for prizes — potted plants, of all things — they could easily buy on their own for far less than their tabs’ totals. Themed brunches. 

A million other events and just as many used glasses to wash.

Despite his ever-present scowl — his face just looks like that —  it hasn’t been all bad. Without the newly-added acoustic sessions, the bar wouldn’t need a local performer to both play and host on a biweekly basis. Management wouldn’t have reached out to you; and you’d have no fucking reason to come to a dive like this. Suffice it to say, your pilates-practicing, daylight-disciplined circle of doers would never otherwise overlap with Wooyoung’s, in all its nocturnal, nicotine-dependent grit.

Tuesday nights at the Black Cat now occupy the center of the Venn diagram.

As usual, you come traipsing in half an hour before your set starts with a gig bag slung over your shoulder and a megawatt smile on your face. This is your natural state, he’s come to learn. Solar-powered. It shouldn’t be possible, but you manage to brighten further when your searching eyes find him sitting on the counter behind the register.

Through no fault of his own, Wooyoung’s gaze trails down from your face to the little sundress you’re wearing. It’s new, he notes immediately. The skirt of it flutters with each step you take, showing off more and more of your thighs as you move.

You don’t react to the migrating fabric. Just the same, you don’t notice his appraisal or the way patrons’ heads turn as you cross the bar. 

No surprise there, he thinks. 

From the four (4) entire conversations the two of you have had so far, you’ve made one thing abundantly clear: You’re inclined to assume the best of people and their intentions. 

Nine times out of ten, Wooyoung dodges naivety like that the second it starts skipping his way, well-versed in the consequences of trusting so implicitly. You and your cotton-candy smile have proven to be the outlier, though. Working in tandem, you and that grin have him pinned where he sits with no urge to run.

You don’t notice that, either.

When you slide onto the stool across the bar from him, Wooyoung finally clocks what you’re holding. Your right hand grips some green concoction that he suspects was made with kale. Or moss? In your left hand, an iced Americano — beautifully black — weeps condensation onto manicured fingers, making hard-earned calluses glisten.

Wooyoung’s racing thoughts about those hands are still inflicting psychic damage when you lean further over the counter.

“Extra shot of espresso,” you hum as you hold the coffee out to him. You do your best to tease him, though you’re shy as hell about it, so the words still manage to come gently: “For those of us who were still awake when the sun came up.”

Wooyoung mentioned his coffee order several weeks ago in passing. It’s sweet in a way he’s not used to that you’ve not only remembered how he takes his coffee, but that you’ve brought it to him ever since, apropos of nothing, when all he’s ever done is his best to get a rise out of you. What he’s up to isn’t sweet — not by a long-shot — but it’s easily done and well worth the misplaced effort when he sees how flustered he can make you.

Wooyoung tilts his head, draws his lips in a straight line, and gestures to your cup with his. “Worry about those waking up shortly after sunrise, sweetheart. They’re drinking algae.”

As intended, you’re visibly affected by the pet name, so much so that you stumble over your defense. “It — it’s healthy!”

“It’s swampy.”

Your nose scrunches indignantly, prompting the edge of Wooyoung’s mouth to tick upwards. He doesn’t emote more than that. Five (5) conversations in now, and he’s already picked up on how much it gets to you when he only concedes a hint of a smirk.

As much as he’d relish the opportunity to sit here and keep toying with you, the crowd surrounding you has doubled in a matter of minutes. Just over your shoulder, Wooyoung sees a patron glance down at the screen of her phone to check the time; then, he hears the complaint she thinks is muttered quietly under her breath. It’s not. In fact, you hear it, too, and you divert your wide, heart-shaped eyes away from him. That smile of yours curves in the wrong direction once you do.

When you look back at him, you say, “I should go,” but he hears it for what it is: an apology. 

He’s never been good at ending conversations — especially in the rare case that he’d prefer to keep one going — so he nods, leaves it at that. You pause for a nanosecond, as if you’ve got something else to add, but you don’t. You smooth down the back of your dress once you’ve hopped from the stool to your feet. Then, you mimic his gesture. 

You make it two steps towards the stage before Wooyoung calls out to you, prompting you to spin back around and your dress to flutter:

“Thanks for the coffee, sweetheart.”

Your frown disappears instantly. The smile that replaces it is still there when you disappear into the crowd, only to resurface several seconds later on the tiny stage across the room.

Guitar now in hand, you duck your head through the woven strap, shuffling carefully closer to the microphone stand. You introduce yourself, strum a quiet, major chord, and chirp, “Welcome to both the Black Cat and my favorite day of the week.”

Normally, you leave shortly after your last set, as if you’ll turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes ten. With the schedule you keep, it’s no wonder. From what Wooyoung has gathered so far, you wake up before dawn most days to get a workout in before heading to the office. The very idea makes him nauseous whenever he thinks too long about it, so he does his best not to. 

Mornings are for sleeping, he told you once.

Life is for living, you’d replied.

Apparently, the two of you have drastically different ideas about what living looks like.

For Wooyoung, life on Tuesday nights looks like catering to a steadily dwindling crowd once you finish up and disappear with a friendly wave goodbye. It’s cleaning up sticky spills, resetting migrated stools, and doing a half-ass restock that will make the opener — him — complain about the closer — again, him — when his next shift starts at 5:00 PM on Wednesday. 

In the gap between his shifts, life looks like meeting up with his similarly shadow-dwelling friends on someone’s balcony to chain-smoke, sip whiskey, and watch the sunrise until he gets bored. From there, it’s either walking back to his apartment or kicking said friends out of his, so he can rot in front of his PC. Eventually, life looks like blackout shades and crashing into bed while the world around him heads out for brunch.

Tonight, however, life is starting to look a little different.

When you wander over, it’s not to say goodnight or close out the tab you think you’ve accrued, which Wooyoung never opened in the first place.

Maybe, he thinks, you’ve finally caught on that all these “technical issues with the point-of-sale system” — occurring for the last four (4) shows in relation to one (1) patron in particular — can’t possibly be a coincidence. That a free drink given will always beget a free drink received. That Wooyoung doesn’t deal in unpaid debts, even if he hasn’t and won’t own up to his petty workplace theft.

You sidle up to his bar and slip back into the stool you’d previously occupied, no more aware of the way your sundress shifts now than you were earlier. Likewise, he’s no less blatant with the way he looks you up and down, eyes lingering unabashedly and hungrily. The pair of you float in each other’s orbit for a few moments just like this: waiting for the other to speak first.

“Don’t you go to yoga class at ass o’clock on Wednesdays?” He eventually inquires, leaning back against the counter behind him with his arms crossed and head tilted.

Your eyes flick down to the screen of your phone, which rests face-up on the bar between your elbows. You clock the time but not the way your current posture causes the neckline of your mostly modest dress to plunge. Conflict creases between your eyebrows, then you tilt your chin to look at him.

Wooyoung knows that look, although he’s never seen it on you before. That look begs to be talked into something, rather than out of it. It’s a look he gets often. For better or for worse, it’s one he never turns down.

“I do,” you admit through a sigh. 

Offering nothing more than a hum to indicate his intrigue, Wooyoung watches you and waits patiently for you to elaborate. Another few seconds slip by without a word. His attention makes you shy, he notes; he loves it. 

But he loves the idea of toying with you even more, so when you don’t say anything else, he takes that attention and diverts it to the few remaining patrons, all of whom have vested interest in closing out and getting out.

Good riddance, he thinks as the last of them stumbles out and away, leaving the two of you in charged silence. 

Even more seconds pass. 

Still nothing.

Wooyoung glances around and finds a bottle of Jameson on its very last leg. It’s the perfect amount for a litmus test — two shots left, nothing more to give and everything to prove. Snatching two overturned shot glasses from where they dry on a holed rubber mat, he empties the whiskey evenly and turns back to you with an eyebrow raised.

Your eyes widen slightly when he sets the spare on the bar in front of you, more so with interest than surprise. For a moment, you stare at it with the same ambivalent expression, nibbling thoughtfully on your lower lip. 

Finally, you all but whisper, “I should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”

With his left palm flat against the bar, Wooyoung rests his weight and leans in, eyelids and voice dropping. “Why aren’t you?” He murmurs, gaze flicking down to your lips then back up again — just long enough for you to notice that he was, in fact, looking. “Hmm?”

Your breath hitches — just loudly enough for him to notice that you are, in fact, finding it hard to function this closely to him.

“On a school night, no less.” His eyes narrow teasingly.

“I’m asking myself the same question,” you confess, though you’re the picture of innocence. Your fingertip traces idly down the side of your shot glass, then back up again. 

He’s as distracted by the mindless movement as you are, albeit for different reasons. Before he lets himself get carried away in wondering whether or not your touch is always that delicate, Wooyoung lifts his glass and gestures for you to do the same. “Sounds like you could use a bad influence.”

A soft clink permeates when your glasses touch, followed by a muted thump when the bottom of each one is tapped against the bar. Your heads are thrown back in unison, just like your drinks, and when your faces finally level out towards one another’s, you counter him breezily, “Maybe you could use a good one.”

Wooyoung thinks he could use more than that.

Breaking eye contact, you glance down at your phone again. It’s obvious that you’re second-guessing your decision to linger. He wants to chuck that brick in the bin with the other useless shit, to get rid of any excuse you might give for having to leave, but he doesn’t. 

And you don’t give him an excuse.

Your hand wraps around that fucking phone, then you stand up slowly. 

“Try not to stay up too late,” you advise with a smile that still manages to read like disappointment.

Don’t.

Reaching into the pocket of your jacket, you pull out the tips you made tonight and collect a few bills before dropping them on the counter to cover the shot you didn’t even order. Wooyoung wants to tell you not to — that your money isn’t good here, even if you are — but he knows it won’t make a difference. 

You sling your gig bag over your shoulder, thank him, and tell him that you’ll see him in two weeks.

He scrubs his hands over his face the second you walk out the door and mutters through gritted teeth, “Fuck.”

You don’t see Wooyoung in two weeks. 

As a matter of fact, you cancel your acoustic session for the first time ever. Management either doesn’t know why you bailed or doesn’t think it’s any of Wooyoung’s business, so no one bothers to tell him. If he’d ever thought to ask for your number, he could check in on you himself, but he didn’t and therefore can’t.

Ignorant and annoyed, he resigns himself to occupying an empty tavern on a goddamn Tuesday night, yet again. 

Nobody brings him coffee. 

Nobody worth talking to crosses the threshold. 

No one makes little comments — genuine concerns poorly disguised as digs — when he uses the paring knife to carve little stars into the lip of the bar top, instead of slicing limes. 

And when he gives up and closes down early, he’s so tired of his own shit that he simply goes home and goes to bed.

Bed being the operative word. 

He doesn’t go to sleep, even though he has nothing better to do. Alternatively, Wooyoung replays your last interaction on a loop in his head, daydreaming about what could’ve happened if you’d stayed. While his thoughts spiral, his hand drifts, finds the pulse beneath the zipper of his jeans, and feels the throbbing ache building through the denim.

It’s pathetic. 

He knows it. 

Too bad that doesn’t stop him from fucking his fist every night for the next several, imagining how much softer yours must feel.

The patron pulls a face the absolute second Wooyoung slides her glass across the bar. 

Wholly uninterested in the response one way or another, he slathers on his customer-service smile and asks her, “Alright?”, in a tone that doesn’t match his expression in the slightest.

“There’s no ice in it,” she mumbles, cringing in mild horror as she does. As if the liquor features his spit instead. “I wanted ice.”

There’s a split second where he almost lets his mask crack, says something shitty just because his mood was already sour before she walked over. Wooyoung doesn’t get the opportunity, however. Over the girl’s shoulder, someone gently intervenes: “Neat means no ice. You’d have needed to order it on the rocks.” 

A beat passes, then comes, “Or — you know, with ice, please.”

Wooyoung neither hears nor cares what the girl says in response. She shuffles off, and that’s all that matters. Without her body blocking the way, he sees you clearly. You’re more done-up than usual, like you’ve just come from somewhere far nicer than here.

“It’s Saturday.”

Probably should’ve started with hello.

After eyeing the glowing, neon clock on the wall, Wooyoung notices that both hands are pointed skyward. He corrects himself, “Nah, it’s Sunday.”

You slip into the now-unoccupied stool ahead of him and nod, chuckling like you can’t believe it, either. When you settle in, you prop your elbow on the bar top, then your chin upon the heel of your hand. Just above, your eyes twinkle with a kind of mischief he’s never seen you wear before.

That might be the thin veil of tipsiness, actually. 

Not that he’s complaining.

Wooyoung hides his amusement by bending over and rummaging through the under-counter refrigerator that hums beneath the register. The rush of cool air has nothing to do with how awake he suddenly feels. He wonders if you feel the same but can’t ask outright; eagerness isn’t his style.

“You’re here on purpose?” He asks instead, resurfacing with a bottle of soju — some new, fruity flavor he assumes you’ll like — and a raised eyebrow.

You hum appreciatively when you see what he’s holding. That soft sound that punches him right in the center of his chest with force. “I was out with friends, but…”

Your voice trails off, too distracted by his hand enveloping the seal-covered bottle cap. With a firm grip and quick twist, it’s gone. You’re still eyeing his hands, he notes, even though all they’re doing is holding the bottle. 

Normally, he’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt and attribute your sudden fixation on the rings he wears. It wouldn’t be the first time a man in jewelry snags attention, complimentary or otherwise. Unfortunately — or maybe fortunately? — for you, Wooyoung forgot to put his usual accessories back on after this afternoon’s shower.

Nope, he thinks, biting back a wolfish grin. He’s not alone. You daydream about his touch, too.

Catching yourself staring, you shift atop your stool with a quiet, self-conscious laugh that sounds more like a sigh. He opts to let it go without further teasing, but he doesn’t let it go entirely. That breathy little noise echoes in his ears, drowning out the faint slosh of liquor as he fills your glass. 

In a weak attempt to distract himself, he remembers your half-finished sentence and prompts with a low voice, “But?”

“They wanted to end the night.” You accept the glass into your hand from his and raise it slightly in thanks. “I didn’t,” you whisper, then bring the rim to your lips to cloak their upward curve.

Wooyoung would be lying if he said your tiny act of defiance didn’t send all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. Maybe it’s arrogant of him to assume that he’s the source of this newfound rebelliousness. The spark that lit the fuse, or whatever. Maybe that should bother him. Of course, it doesn’t.

In an effort to hide how strong of a chord your confession has struck, he gestures with one extended finger to the clock. Your eyes follow, and he leans in closer; the smirk you can’t see is still evident in his voice, he’s sure.  “How much of a coincidence is it that you showed up right before the trains stop running?”

When your gaze flicks momentarily back to him, he spots a hint of surprise. This impeccable timing wasn’t a scheme at all, he realizes. Not a plot. If he had to bet, Wooyoung would guess that you’re never out late enough to know that the train schedule ends at all.

God, you’re going to give him a cavity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Coincidentally, I know someone who gets off just in time to walk you home.”

“This gonna bother you?”

Having stepped out of the bar before Wooyoung, his question prompts you to look back over your shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised slightly out of curiosity. He lifts his right hand from his jacket pocket to reveal the half-spent pack of cigarettes he’d been storing there.

He expects it to, and to his surprise, he cares enough about that possibility that he doesn’t light up without asking in the way he normally would.

“In theory, yes,” you laugh, “because I’d prefer your lungs to be tar-free.”

“And in practice?”

You must not have expected him to note the distinction; you fluster. Grinning slightly, Wooyoung answers his own question on your behalf, “In practice, you find it kind of hot.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he pulls a cigarette from the pack — slowly, to test his hypothesis that you’ve got a thing for his hands — and then, Wooyoung slides the cardboard back into his pocket. 

Your gaze follows while he gently places the filtered end between his lips. It stays put when he furnishes a lighter, holds the flame to the opposite side, and inhales. Turning his head to the side, Wooyoung exhales the smoke where it won’t reach you. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he assures you, eyes devilish. Deer in headlights that you are, you freeze but for the bob of your throat as you swallow. “I won’t make you admit it out loud.”

Yet.

Once he’s decided that he’s played with you enough for the time being, two of you head south, ambling under streetlights without any sense of urgency. Making up for lost time, maybe; picking up where the last Tuesday left off. 

He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol making you more talkative than usual, or if you’re feeling the rush of your off-brand decisions, but Wooyoung’s fine with it, either way. You tell him about your week — in full and without hesitation — like you’re chatting to a friend and not someone you’ve only just started to encounter on a brief, twice-monthly basis.

You had a date this Tuesday night, he learns. It didn’t go well. Too similar, you explain with a wave of your hand. According to you, it’s boring to sit with you at a dinner table. Wooyoung looks pointedly at you as soon as he hears it, noting his disagreement. For a second, you assume something he doesn’t mean: that he enjoys his own company more than you enjoy yours.

“No,” he corrects you. “I just can’t picture dinner with you as something boring.”

You duck your head, embarrassed. “Oh,” is all you manage in reply.

Wooyoung follows your lead across several more city blocks, hanging on every word you say in the meantime. When the pair of you reach the front of your apartment building, his cigarette is spent, but neither one of you is. He takes an extra step towards the garbage can near the door and drops the butt amidst the others in the lid, which doubles as an ashtray. A faint vein of smoke bleeds out until the dark sky laps it up entirely.

You look conflicted when he turns back in your direction. Clearly, you don’t want him to leave just yet, but asking him upstairs is likely way out of your pattern of behavior. Wooyoung sees two options: He could say goodnight and go; take a few steps towards his side of the city, and hope you to act even further out of character, or — 

“If you’re asking, I’m saying yes.”

— he could go off-script entirely.

Your apartment looks exactly the way Wooyoung expected it to. Everything is cozy; a far cry from the modern and monochrome edge of his place. It all makes sense, based on what he’s learned about you so far. Feels like you, although he’ll concede that you haven’t been felt by him just yet.

Each shelf features a tchotchke or framed photograph — or several — but not a single speck of dust. Likewise, the various potted plants you’ve displayed artfully around the space are well-kept. Flourishing, he assumes, despite the fact that he doesn’t know shit about fuck when it comes to plants.

His shoes, ratty in comparison to yours, are toed off at the door before he follows you further into the kitchen. You stop at the island, bottom lip between your teeth once again. Unsure, you nibble on it, like it’ll help you set your dizzy mind straight.

When Wooyoung inches closer to you, he does it slowly, even though every part of his body demands that he ramp up the pace. As badly as he wants his hands — and his teeth, and his tongue…— all over you now, he can’t be the jump scare that sets your little bunny heart to sprinting. The adrenaline is practically vibrating off your frame already with every step he takes in your direction.

Though you could, you don’t move further away, the nearer he gets. You stay put with the small of your back against the lip of the granite counter, hypnotized. Right where he wants you.

Once he’s close enough, Wooyoung tests the waters. You let him; your gaze clings to him so strongly that he feels the weight of it without reciprocating. With his thumb and forefinger, he traces the belt loop closest to your left hip, then tugs slightly, making your breath quicken for a moment. 

Eyes still focused on his own ministrations, he murmurs, “Am I the first stray you’ve ever brought home?”

You don’t answer with words. His gaze flicks upwards, and from under heavy-lidded eyes, he sees the tiny nod.

“Full of surprises.” He looks down again, purposely depriving you of eye contact, and moves his fingers from your belt loop so that the pad of his thumb brushes over the top of your jeans. There, the skin of your hip peeks out from under the denim, hot to the touch. “Not just sweet, are you?”

“Someone told me I needed a bad influence.”

The sudden re-introduction of your voice pulls his focus. You stare back at him boldly, and it feels like a dare. Both of his hands move to your hips now, simultaneously guiding you closer to his chest and keeping you pinned between his body and the island.

“You’ll miss your Sunday morning pilates, I fear,” he tuts with a slight shake of his head.

“You’ll make attending redundant, I hope.”

And then your mouth is on his, all tongue and teeth, while you card desperate fingers through his hair. It occurs to him, as he licks into your mouth, that the split-dyed strands you're clinging to are a microcosm. 

Black and white. 

Conflicting tastes, like sugar and salt, that only make sense together in certain contexts. Like this one — right here, right now — with the two of you tangled up in your half-lit kitchen, so caught up in exploration that inhibition takes the backseat. Steeping in the aftertaste of soju and cigarette smoke, scent heady like arousal.

You break the kiss to catch your breath but can’t make it very far. His teeth claim your bottom lip, pulling forth the softest little growl he’s ever heard.

“Fuck,” he echoes with a growl of his own. 

That’s it. Breathing is overrated. Wooyoung’s ready to suffocate, so long as you let him.

“Lay back on the counter.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second, and while you blink back at him, he wonders if you’ll actually let him eat you out where you eat. It’s objectively filthy, he knows, but he might drop dead where he stands if he has to wait another second — or take another step elsewhere — before he tastes you.

Your answer is a leap, figuratively and literally. The hands you’ve been using to cling to him each flatten palm-down on the island behind you. With his grip on your hips to boost you, you scramble to your new stage; and you shatter the conservative expectations he had for you in the process. 

A newfound confidence flashes in your eyes, making his stomach flip and his dick twitch. A patronizing frown graces your kiss-bitten lips. “You didn’t walk three kilometers here just to look at me, did you?”

He sure as shit didn’t. Still, he can’t help but bask in the odd sense of pride he feels in staring up at you on the pedestal he put you on. The more time you spend with him, the rougher you seem to get around the edges; and he’d be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t love the grit.

In lieu of a verbal response, Wooyoung locks eyes with you and gestures downward with the index finger of his right hand. You follow his silent command eagerly and without question; he keeps the praise you’ve earned on the tip of his tongue, saving it for later.

It takes less time than he expects to strip you of your jeans, most of which is attributed to slipping them off your ankles and dropping them blindly over his shoulder. They hit what he believes to be the range with a soft twack, then a barely audible crumple when they finally find the floor. 

Your lace underwear disappears in a similar fashion, albeit more eagerly. Couldn’t be helped, he thinks. That scrap of fabric was the last barrier between him and the thing he’s been craving most since he met you; and fuck, if you don’t exceed his expectations once again.

“Christ,” is all he can say.

It’s rare to find a pussy so perfect that it wipes out his vocabulary, let alone makes him want to weep. That’s exactly what’s waiting for him when you spread your thighs wide enough to accommodate his body between them. Really, the only thing driving him more insane than the sight of you is the thought of how many self-imposed rules you’ve broken to get to this point — the self-discipline you’ve thrown out the window on your way down to him.

He accepts the invitation, descends upon your wet heat like a man starved, and loops his arms underneath your thighs. Immediately, your thighs tighten around the sides of his head, muffling the groan that slips out of him the second your taste hits his tongue. Just the same, you’ve got him drunk in an instant while he laves his way through folds sweeter than cherry wine.

From under his own lashes, he looks up and sees yours flutter at the sensation of his lips encircling your clit and suckling slowly, deeply.

“Oh, my g-god,” you hiccup before your fingers are in his hair again, nails scratching perfectly along his scalp. “You’re so —” 

Wooyoung’s wickedly curved lips are slick in more ways than one, though he doubts you can see them through all those stars in your eyes. You don’t see the switch-up coming, either. Unwilling to let you race too far ahead of him, he scales it back, trading his deep pulls for targeted kitten licks.

“— evil.”

Your frustration rings out with a tortured whine. Wooyoung can’t blame you; he knows he’s cruel for guiding you so close to the edge, right out of the gate, then refusing to send you off of it. But he has to draw this out as long as he can, savor what he can for however long you give him.

And to your credit, you take it well. 

You give, too, offering up the moans, whimpers, and sighs he couldn’t have dreamed up correctly if he tried.

Well…

Wooyoung did try. Gave it his best shot, even, but his imagination fell short. He knows that now. The pitch was wrong, the timing was off, and he failed to anticipate just how badly it’d fuck him up to feel you grinding against his tongue. To have your fingers tied off in his hair, refusing to accept anything less than closeness.

That particular chorus swells for the first time when he unwinds his right arm from where it secures your left thigh; and his middle finger slides into your cunt, curls upwards to greet that spongy patch of nerves along your front wall. 

Eyes swimming with previously untapped desire, you look so pitifully perfect. Only breaking eye contact to throw your head back, you start to wail, “Wooyoung, I —” 

But the rest of that thought must turn to static before you can finish it. Charged silence settles in its place, save for your ragged breathing. All the while, his tongue never lets up on your poor, abused clit, though your arousal already has him coated, leaking down over the knuckle.

A particularly needy tug of his hair seeks what you can’t verbalize. 

More.

Closer.

When he adds his ring finger to fuck you further open for him, you can’t keep his name from spilling out of your mouth. Wooyoung starts to sound like a summoning spell; an invocation repeated so desperately that he just might give you what you want.

“W-Wooyoung, please,” you choke out, hips bucking up to chase his mouth. “I’m so close!”

The fact that you’re downright begging — on the brink of tears, no less — goes straight to his head. He lets up for a moment to purr, “Since you asked so nicely…”

The hand he doesn’t have half-buried in your heat grips your right hip, hard, securing you against the granite. It’s for the best, really. You jolt so much when he finally lets you cum that you could’ve knocked him out otherwise.

Not that he’d complain.

When the aftershocks peter out, and you gain back some control of your trembling limbs, you collapse back onto the countertop, chest heaving as your breath struggles to even out. One leg stays put, hinged over his shoulder, the best kind of dead weight; the other pools off the edge of the island, hanging limply.

Before pulling away entirely, Wooyoung presses an open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh, suckling slightly — just enough to leave a calling card, though he doesn’t want anyone but you to know it’s there.

“You fucking menace.”

Your eyes flutter open and catch the way he’s grinning, the lower half of his face otherwise shining with a mix of spit and slick. With you watching intently, he licks his lips, simpering, “Think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“Deserved.” You sigh contentedly and close your eyes again for a second, but the blissed-out look on your face doesn’t dissipate. 

Wooyoung wonders if you’re holding onto the image of him between your thighs, replaying it behind your lids. The sight of you is going to haunt him — then and now, before and after. Even if your stamina is depleted now, his appetite’s been sated. He can survive off of this moment alone for weeks if necessary.

But you summon the strength to stretch your arms over your head, to moan breathily while you arch your back off the counter and ease the tension in your muscles. Then, in a burst of vitality, you sit upright. Eyes alight, you give him a smile to match.

“Help me down?”

As if he’d say no to a question asked that sweetly.

You wobble when your feet touch the ground again and thank him when he snakes an arm around your waist to steady you. With a nod in the direction of what Wooyoung assumes is your bedroom, you beckon him, “Come with me.”

“That’s been the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at him — another first — and take his hand in yours. Fingers intertwined, you lead and he follows through the adjoining living room towards a door on the far side of the apartment. The pair of you barely cross the threshold into your bedroom before you turn and tug his hand, pulling him into a kiss.

“Do me a favor,” you murmur against his lips.

Wooyoung has no questions about that — the answer is yes, no matter what the favor is — but there is something he’s wondering about: when you open your mouth against his, can you taste yourself on his tongue?

Distracted by that thought, and the way your free hand makes its way to the button of his jeans, he nods. It gives him the opportunity to swallow down the groan that builds in his chest when you squeeze his still-clothed cock.

Your mouth leaves his then, drops to the side of his neck. Something about the light nip of your teeth below his ear makes his resolve start to crumble. It only gets harder when the warmth of your tongue flicks over his skin to soothe the sting. He sounds fucked out already when he sighs, “Anything.”

“Let me repay you for all those drinks you never charged me for.” Between kisses down the length of his neck, you purr, “Not exactly subtle, you know.”

He clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping. “Have I been hustled?” 

“Is it hustling if I offer to reimburse you?” 

Knowing damn well what it’ll do to him, you flutter your lashes against his skin, forcing him to fight off a shiver. There’s no hiding the rush of heat that follows; he doesn’t need to ask to know that you feel it creeping up his neck. “I’ll make up for it,” you promise. “Atone, and all that.”

Wooyoung reaches up and cups your jaw with his hand; you follow his direction and look up at him with excitement twinkling in your eyes, juxtaposing the deep black in his. “I’m charging interest,” he bites back. “The rates are astronomical.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed. Get on the bed, sweetheart.”

With a light smack on your ass, he sends you on your way. In the few seconds it takes you to skip over to your mattress and jump onto it, he tugs his shirt up and over his head, then tosses it aside. Before unbuckling his jeans and tearing those off, too, he snatches his wallet from the back pocket. More specifically, the condom he’s been keeping within just in case you ever decided to stoop to his level.

You’re a second away from drooling when he makes his way over and stops at the edge of the bed. That kind of hunger is yet another thing he failed to see coming. There’s something insatiable in your eyes now, darkening by the second. 

You reach out for the condom, but he pulls his hand back, holds it up where you can’t reach. Frustration makes your eyebrows pinch together. Out of context — if you weren’t naked, wet, and wanting him — he’d likely go out of his way to tell you how fucking cute you look when you’re annoyed. 

“Don’t pout at me, sweetheart.” Wooyoung’s warning tone is gravel-lined, sharp to the touch when it hits you. Whether you intend it or not, your breath hitches in tandem with your pupils dilating.  “I’ll let you do it, but I have one condition. Consider it a repayment term.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “And what’s that?”

“No hands.”

The surprised look he was counting on never comes. He gets sheer determination instead. You pull the packet from between his fingers, rip the foil open with your teeth, and flick the empty wrapper onto your nightstand. Not a second is wasted in you tugging his black briefs down his thighs.

You don’t deal in unpaid debts, either, it seems.

What happens next nearly puts him in an early grave. Wooyoung fucking wishes for a fly on the wall to witness you — someone else to memorialize the finesse you exhibit in working that latex down his length with your mouth alone — because he can’t believe his own eyes. In fact, he has to screw them shut to keep from cumming at the sight of you with his dick down your throat, lips flush to his pelvis.

“My god,” he groans, head dipping backwards. “If that’s how good your fucking mouth feels…”

You give him a second to pull himself together. Then, you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him. He drops into the space you were occupying just a second ago, and as soon as his back hits the mattress, you steady yourself with your palms on his chest and position yourself over him.

Now, he can’t keep his hands to himself. His fingertips scratch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps along the fastidiously trained muscles underneath his touch. Palms gliding up the curve of your ass, then your waist, then those fucking tits.

“Shit,” you mewl. He lightly pinches your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, spurring you on to rake your nails over the flesh of his chest. The way he tenses under your touch must embolden you. “Play with me all you want, but I need you inside of me now.”

Wooyoung has no idea where this assertiveness came from, but he’ll be goddamned if he doesn’t give you everything you want and then some. To prove that you’ve earned the lot, you line yourself up and take everything he has. 

Somehow, you manage to take his vision, too. The world gets blurry as your heat envelopes him; everything in the periphery blackens until all that’s left is you throwing your head back in pleasure. No other light, no noise beyond the obscene sound of your pussy soaking his length and the collision of your perfect ass against the tops of his thighs.

As strong as you are, Wooyoung knows your orgasm will wipe you out long before your body tires. He sees your eyes start to roll back in your head, even when you put your palms down behind you and lean away from him to perfect the angle. 

Not good enough, he decides. He wants to watch your pupils blow when you fall apart.

“C’mere,” he rasps. 

Fuck, he’s about to break, too. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You push off your hands and move to lean in, but you wind up crumpling against his chest, immediately overwhelmed by the depths of his strokes when you re-enter his gravity. With the proximity perfected, every movement that follows is desperate — animalistic, even. Clinging fingers, sweat slicked bodies swapping searing heat. He lifts his hips to drive himself further into you with every downbeat, sets a pace so punishing that he has you speaking in tongues.

When you cum the second time, the moan that rips through you almost sounds like a sob. It really might be. The droplets on your cheeks are either tears or sweat; one or both would be justified, considering the show you just put on for him.

Shit, how you managed to blow his world to pieces just by walking into his bar, he’ll never understand. All he knows is that when he cums — not long after you — and his entire fucking body goes numb, you’re there on the other side of the cataclysm to kiss him back to life.

Sweet.

When you wake up, you don’t even have a guess as to what time it is. That’s your fault, you know. You didn’t think to connect your phone to its charger prior to falling asleep in a mess of sheets. The numerous alarms you always keep set didn’t go off, obviously, but right now, that’s the least of your worries. 

Until your phone has enough juice to power back on, you won’t know if Wooyoung texted you before sneaking out of your apartment.

You’d taken it as a good sign when he asked for your number in a fucked-out haze. Now, you realize, that naivety of yours was operating in full swing, even when the rest of you was down for the count. That’s what one-night-stands are for, you tell yourself. That’s the decision you made.

Uncharacteristically, you’re tempted to spend the rest of your day — however much of it is left — rotting in bed. It’s an urge you’ll give in to, you can already tell; just like the one that got you here in the first place. The only thing stronger than the call of your bed is the grumbling of your stomach, begging for sustenance.

Sighing loudly, you throw your comforter off your lower half and wiggle towards the edge of your bed. Bare feet meet the braided rug below, then unsteady legs do their best to get their bearings. As you ache, you realize that you need to give credit where it’s due:

You’re currently in the best shape of your life, and Wooyoung still managed to fuck the constitution out of you.

You bend slowly to scoop a shirt from your untouched laundry basket, groaning all the while. On its own, it’s long enough to cover your ass, so you don’t bother to dress yourself further — except for the fuzzy slippers waiting next to your bedroom door.

It’s closed, you note when you finally bother to look at it. It wasn’t when you fell into bed with Wooyoung. He probably didn’t want to disturb you on the way out, you figure. This would strike you as thoughtful if it didn’t feel like a chapter ending too soon. Reaching out to reopen it, you tell yourself to be less sentimental.

In the living room, laying eyes on an empty kitchen, you also tell yourself, I told you so. This isn’t a drama, after all. There’s no love interest in your kitchen to cook you an unexpected breakfast. 

Pre-made frozen breakfast sandwich it is, then.

You tear open the package with more effort than you should’ve needed to expend, then dump the single-serving lump onto a paper plate. As if on autopilot, you shove the plate into the microwave and smash a few buttons without registering much of it. The quiet hum of the machine nearly lulls you straight back to sleep.

Well, it likely could have.

The metallic rattling up the hall catches your attention, prompting you to step backwards so you can peer over at your front door and confirm that it’s locked. It is. You turn back to your breakfast in progress, and it takes five (5) entire seconds before you realize the issue here.

Keys jingle with more determination, right on cue. You spin around fully this time, eyes wide, to find Wooyoung in your doorway. He holds the door open with his elbow because both his hands are full; and as if that all wasn’t enough, he tries to toe off his shoes without being able to see them over the cardboard to-go tray in his hands.

“Fucking —” he grunts, wobbling. 

It must’ve been louder than he intended because he winces immediately. In his moment of panic, his eyes flick over to your bedroom door. Then, when he realizes it’s open, they search for you, blinking in surprise when they find you. He peeps, “Oh.”

As it turns out, his ability to make you lose your words isn’t limited to late hours. The sun is beating through the sliding glass door to your balcony, and you confirm that you’re just as dumbstruck by him in daylight. So, you simply point to the drinks and paper bag he’s holding with your eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Found that café you go to on Tuesdays,” Wooyoung explains gruffly. His morning voice is every bit as ruinous as you imagined it would be. “The logo on their cups is just a cloud, so it took a lot of wandering to solve that fucking mystery.”

This time, it’s you who peeps. “Oh?”

It’s then that he finally succeeds in getting his shoes off. With his hip, he nudges the door shut; your key ring chimes in the process, having been attached to his belt loop. In a few steps, he sets his burdens down on the kitchen island and looks up at you with a wicked glint in his eye. Apparently, his immediate thought is the same as yours. Simpering, he picks everything back up and makes for your living room’s coffee table instead.

“I’m glad to report that the green shit you drink doesn’t include algae or moss.” He lifts a smoothie from the carrier and holds it out to you, flashing you a smile that makes your knees wobble. “However, I regret to inform you that it does contain vegetables.”

If you try any harder to bite back your idiotic grin, you might lose your lips. “Did you — did you really think there was moss in it?”

He waves his hand dismissively. Notably, he doesn’t say no. That hand then lowers, finger crooked to beckon you closer. You move in, and you try to focus on the moment in front of you, rather than the obscene flashbacks the gesture gives you. The knowing look you expect doesn’t follow, though. Wooyoung simply places your drink in your left hand and your keys in your right.

“Sorry for borrowing those without asking or — well, notifying you in any way, whatsoever.” He grimaces. “I figured I’d be gone for a minute, and I didn’t want someone to waltz through your unlocked door and wake you up.”

“Was burglary on that list of concerns, or is sleep truly your main priority?”

At this, he grins like an idiot. “You’re getting better at that, you know.”

The look on your face must convey your confusion. 

“I like the version of you that doesn’t pull punches,” he continues, sounding almost embarrassed to admit something about himself.

You take a move from his playbook and slide your finger through his belt loop, tugging him forward until he’s squarely within kissing distance. “This Wooyoung?” You murmur, “The one who got up early to hunt down a smoothie he’s disgusted by? Objectively likable.”

He rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t distract from the pink tint overtaking his cheeks. “I don’t know about that.”

You kiss him before he can offer to agree to disagree. And when you finally pull back, you nod firmly. “He might be sweet enough for me.”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

ateez masterlist. multi masterlist. navigation.

tagging: @jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz @sourkimchi @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon (also paging @moni-logues because i feel like woo is our sister wife, lmfao.)

[dontopenfairies]

“Let’s go get comfy in bed,” I tell him, and I lead him by the hand to the bedroom. “Which pajamas would you like to wear?” I ask, spreading them out on top of the covers. A matching set, a white nightie, and one of my tshirts and a pair of his underwear. “You get to pick.”

He looks down shyly at his options. His eyes hesitate on the nightie.

“That one’s cute, like a little dress.”

He points wordlessly to the matching set.

“Okay, honey,” I say, clearing away the other options. “Do you want to get changed or do you want me to change you?”

“I want you to…”

“Okay, let’s take these glasses off. Tell me again, have you ever spent the night with a woman before, honey?”

He shakes his head. “Wait,” he says, “I mean, I have. Just not like this. Not someone like you.” There’s a weird sincerity in his eyes, gazing at me as I take his glasses off and fold them and set them on the dresser, too.

“You’re lucky, tonight, then,” I say, reaching for the hem of his tshirt and pulling it over his head. “I’ve been told that I’m good at this.” I step back and place the shirt on the ground next to my hamper. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Shh, you don’t need to do that,” I say, gently setting them at his sides. I move my hands down his belly towards his fly and he tenses. “Do you want the bright light off?” I ask. “Would you feel more comfortable?”

He nods. I turn on the nightlight by the bedside table and switch off the overhead light. The difference is immediate. Now he’s bracing himself on my shoulders as I pull his pants down and help him step out of them.

“Do you want me to put you in a pull-up? That’s all you wanted to talk about when we were texting.” He shakes his head. I hold out the pajama pants for him to step into and pull them up around his waist. “Not tonight?” I ask.

He gasps as I snap his waistband. I pick up the pajama shirt from the bed and it’s the same routine, he helps me help him get his arms through the sleeves and then I button him up while he rests his hands on my shoulders.

“That’s okay,” I say. “Lots of boys aren’t ready for a pull-up or diaper even when they want one. Come on, sit on the bed with me.” I pick up my book basket from the foot of the bed and fan them out across both our laps. “Which one looks good to you, baby? Birds, robots, space…What did you say your major was, again?”

“Mathematics,” he says quietly, and I wrap my arm around his shoulder and rub his cheek.

“I don’t have any math books,” I say. “But I guess you probably want a break from that, anyway, don’t you?” I tap a few of the covers in front of us. “Now, which one do you want to look at?”

He looks down at the covers. I can see him squinting in the low light. His hand starts to move, slowly, like he’s really considering, and he touches the cover of the book about space.

“Good choice,” I say. “Can you help me clean up the rest of these books?”

Immediately, he scrambles to collect all the books and stacks them neatly in the basket, almost falling out of bed in the process. I smile and try not to laugh at him. He crawls back up next to me and I pull back the covers. “Do you want to lie down with me?” He nods. “Okay, do you want to lie next to each other? Or do you want me to lie on my back and you can rest your head on my chest?”

“Next to each other,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” I say, climbing under the covers on my stomach. He imitates me and we prop the book up on the pillows. “Start right here,” I whisper, underlining a line of text with my finger.

“At the m…middle…of the, um, the s-solar system is the sun…The sun, is, um…”

“Keep going,” I say, knowing that the low light and his poor eyesight combined are making this much harder than it usually would be.

“C…com…Is that an n or an m?”

“That’s an m, you were right. You’re doing a great job. Keep going.” I wrap my arm around him and run my fingers through his hair.

“Composed of hot gases, mostly h-hydrogen and helium,” he reads.

“You got those ones really fast,” I say.

“I already knew about that,” he whispers, and then goes back to reading. I let him get through a couple of paragraphs before kissing his cheek and telling him he’s done.

“You did a really good job,” I tell him. “Now it’s my turn to read to you. Let’s switch positions. I’m going to lie on my back and you can be on my belly and chest like a baby sea otter.” He lets me pull him in towards me, but seems nervous about setting his head down on me. “It’s okay, honey,” I tell him, gently coaxing him down. He closes his eyes at once. I read a few pages of the book to him, watching his eyelids flutter in the low light.

“You’re getting sleepy, huh?” I say, closing the book. He doesn’t answer but presses his head deeper against my chest. “Let’s go to sleep,” I say, setting the book down in the basket. “Night light on or off?”

“On,” he murmurs quietly, and I close my eyes and nestle in close to him, listening to his breathing turn deep and even.

[villainoustrioau]

Okay, guys, here's the plot

Fanfic by Milkyr (thanks @peachyfnaf for editing <3)

Art by CreesA

Reunion

“Eclipse… Promise me one thing before I turn off and you're loaded into your own body..."

"Yes, of course! Anything for you, Sunny."

"No matter what happens… Don't lose yourself."

Gray fingers touched golden ones, and Eclipse looked at Sun. At his beaming smile and pale blue eyes filled with care and slight excitement.

"Whatever that means, I promise."

This was the last time Eclipse saw his Sun happy and alive.

***

Emerging from his own memories, Solar raised his head from the table. He fell asleep on the blueprints again. Grumbling softly to himself, the inventor got to his feet and stretched, hearing his iron joints creak. The animatronic soundlessly walked in soft slippers to the laboratories exit door. Focusing his hearing module on the space beyond the door, Solar listened to the sound of… nothing.

It was pretty quiet here.

Leaving the lab, Solar shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"Ruin?"

He called softly, going first into the living room, then into the kitchen, then into one of the bedrooms.

"Eclipse?"

But he wasn't here either.

"Jack?"

It seems that he was completely alone in the bunker.

Solar went through all the rooms once more to make sure that no one was here, and then returned to his lab, blocking the front door and turning on the sound insulation in the room.

He pulled off the worn gray cloth from a capsule, which was located in the depths of the lab and was securely disguised as a "garbage can" so that no one would have the desire to ask questions about what was there. Pushing aside some wooden crates, the mechanic looked at the horizontal capsule with regret in his eyes. Inside, under the glass, laid Sun. But not Sun of whose dimension they now live.

It was his Sun. It was Sunny. The one who was always kind to Solar when he first woke up in someone else's body and didn't understand why he was no longer part of Moon. The one who sacrificed his life in order for Solar to get a chance at his own. The mechanic shook his head, pushing away the obsessive thoughts. His gaze was determined.

He's going to get Sunny back. He will get Sunny back. He's sacrificed too much not to. His fingers quickly tapped on the keyboard of the hidden device in the capsule, and the light inside it lit up. Solar frowned in concentration as he immersed himself in his calculations. He has been working on restoring Sun for several months now- it was very dangerous to work when someone else was in the bunker. His plans could be discovered, so he had to do everything slowly and carefully.

Suddenly, the computer let out an approving beep. The inventor opened his eyes in surprise, looking at the big green check mark on the screen. Did… Did he do it..? Did he really succeed..?

With trembling hands, Solar typed a couple of commands, and a progress bar was displayed on the monitor, gradually filling in black. The mechanic pressed his palms against the glass of the capsule, watching with hope in his eyes as the light inside grew brighter.

“Download complete. All systems stabilized. All external modules running properly. Turn designation: ‘Sunny’ on?”

Solar pressed the confirmation button on the keyboard, staring in fascination as the animatronic in the capsule began to make soft noises. At first it was the crackle of electricity, then the noise of the fans, which became quieter almost immediately as he switched to silent mode.

Sunny opened his eyes.

At first, his eyes were cloudy, he heard only isolated sounds- an incomprehensible buzzing- and felt a heaviness all over his body. He saw a dark blue spot above him.

"Moon..?”

His vision began to clear, and the dark blue spot turned into a dark orange. Who is that? Sunny could say with confidence that this was the first time he’d seen such an animatronic model, but his gaze caught on a couple of details in the appearance, and he gasped.

"Eclipse..?"

Sun spoke with hesitance, still unsure of his assumption.

"Yes."

Solar replied in a quiet, trembling voice, feeling tears running down his cheeks.

"What… What happened?" Sunny asked in surprise, noticing out of the corner of his eye that he was lying in some kind of capsule, a lot of wires were plugged in all over his body. "There must be some mistake here..."

"What do you mean? You're alive, and that's good!"

Solar replied in euphoric disbelief, opening the lid of the capsule. "...You probably didn't understand me," Sunny smiled awkwardly, "the separation should have killed me. I knew I was going to die, but… I wanted to give you the opportunity to live in your own body, live your own life!..

Or..." Sun's gaze suddenly became sad and hesitant. "Or… Or are we both dead and this is the afterlife? Oh no- I'm so sorry- I never meant for this to happe-..."

"-No, no, it's okay! I'm alive, and you're alive too," Solar grabbed Sunny's hand so that he could feel his touch, squeezing it like he would leave him again if he dared to let go, "And I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Never again."

"...Wait!" Sunny suddenly realized something. Attempting to sit up, he rapidly looked around, whipping his head from side-to-side. But Solar restrained him from his attempts, holding Sunny still as carefully disconnected the capsule's wiring so that nothing would be damaged. "W- Where are we? Where’s Moon?!"

"Be careful! Your systems are still very fragile after such a long period of inactivity," the inventor replied, "I'll... I'll explain everything, just let me make sure you can move safely, okay?"

"...Solar, you're making me a little nervous. Where is our brother?"

Sunny asked his question once more, feeling a familiar anxiety slowly creeping up on his mechanisms, making its way under his endoskeleton and stirring the very core of the animatronic. Finally, he was able to sit up and look around. What kind of place is this…

"...Yes. Yes, you did die that day." Solar began with bitterness in his voice, trying not to look into Sunny's eyes as he recounted the memory. "It shocked both Moon and I, and it broke us, and then… And then..." the inventor's voice went tight as a lump formed his throat, forcing him to sound on the verge of tears as he continued.

"...His killcode took over his body. I couldn't save him, Sunny. There was an… accident." He bitterly squeezed out the words. "I'm Sorry, Sun. I'm so, so sorry. Moon is no longer with us."

The final statement hit Sunny like the crack of a painful whip. The whole world trembled right in front of his eyes. Shaking hands clutched at the face plate, despair flooding his features.

"...N-No... nononono, NO! T-This can't… It can't be..." Sun's voice warbled out in despair, "Please, tell me you're lying! T-That this is all a bad joke! PLEASE!"

Before Sunny could lose himself anymore, he felt thin and trembling arms wrap around his back. It was Solar.

Sunny buried his face in Solar's shoulder, shaking and sobbing like a traumatized child. He was absolutely shattered by the news. Moon was his day-one. His other half. His brother. The animatronic he was closest to before they separated and Eclipse appeared.

Gradually, slowly, the sobs in the air began to subside. A numb, pulsating sadness took the place of despair. Sun slightly pulled away from Solar and sighed loudly, causing his fans to flare up for a moment.

"But... What happened then..? H-How are we here?" He asked hollowly, looking at the mechanic.

"I had to conspire with dangerous criminals to survive. Working with them, I at least had a chance to get you back." Solar lowered the tone of his voice, "As of now, my name is no longer Eclipse. My name is Solar."

"Oh my God…" Sunny gasped in fright, taking Solar's face in his hands and looking at his rays. It was only now that he noticed how dirty and broken they were. "D- Did they do this to you? The criminals?!"

"No, no, I'm fine. They won't touch me, we have an… agreement," the inventor shook his head slightly, "But they must not find out about you. We're currently in a bunker under the pizzaplex. This is my lab, and we're in another dimension. But I promise we'll escape from here. I'll find a way.”

"B-But how can they not find out about me if they literally live here?" Sunny shivered, feeling fear creep up his spine. Poor Solar, what kind of mess did he get into..?

"Don't worry, they won't come into my lab. This is my personal space, and no one can come here without my permission." Solar took Sunny's hands in his own once more and looked into his eyes.

"Their names are Ruin and Eclipse. They're both very dangerous- Ruin can infect you with a virus that makes you want to kill, and Eclipse is just out of control when he's not in the mood- and he's always not in the mood. Knowing him, he'll tear you apart as soon as he sees you! Swear to me that you will not leave the lab under any circumstances. Please."

"Solar, I..." Sunny spoke quietly, confused and terrified eyes gazing into the tired and sad ones of the mechanic. "...I trust you. I promise that I will do whatever you say, and help in any way I can."

"Thank you, Sunny. Thank you." Solar leaned forward to hug Sun again, "I'm glad you're back." "Yes..." Sunny hugged the animatronic in response, "I'm so glad to see you, too…"

[bloodyshadow1]

so if the bad kids do the classic, switch to defeat your doppleganger move that happens a lot when facing the rat grinders, I think this is how it should go down. (note this was written last week before ep 18, where they used a lot of their resources) This is a purely hypothetical party vs party combat

Ruben-Fabian or Adaine. Fabian with his eyepatch is immune to fear which a lot of college of whispers does really well, as a half-elf he gets wisdom saving throws on charm which is also the bard's bread and butter. He's a fast fighter bard with spellslots to use basically as smites. so he could really blast down Ruben before things start. Adiane as an elf is another good choice like fabian she has advantage against charm affects and while she is not immune to fear like fabian she has a better wisdom save than he does since she is proficient. I would put Fabian over her though mechanically, and he is also a fan of Ruben's so it would be funny to watch them fight

Ivy- Gorgug. He's not the best option, but he's probably the bad kids best counter to her. as a ranger and fighter, she can do a lot of damage to the others with her range, having to deal with a barbarian who can keep hitting you from range. attacking recklessly would negate a lot of the benefit of Shadowy dodge and as a barbarian he would be able to shrug off most of her ranged attacks. He probably has some artificer item that would let him create a light thing like the solar lasso so she wouldn't always be able to hide in the darkness. For the lesser affects of her arcane arrows and ranger abilities, Gorgug has pretty decent saves, and for the dangerous ones like Banishing Arrow, he can at least use flash of genius on himself to bolster those saves. The Ranger part is kind of lost on me, the spells seems decent but nothing that can really stop Gorgug since he's a barbarian, but could mess up someone else in the party. Ranger spells are decent, but he has a pretty strong counter and I can't see Ivy being higher than level 9 in ranger since it seems like fighter was her base class and it has to split somehow.

Oisin- Fig. As a lore bard/paladin/warlock I think it would be best for her to get into Oisin's face and smite the hell out of him. You can't counterspell a smite. As a wizard he is probably the squishiest member of his party so taking him out would be very important. Additionally, she has counterspell which could leave him in trouble in close range. With Shield, Oisin can have a decent ac so there's that, but he's still a wizard who rolled a d6 each level.

Kipperlily-Kristen. While it surprisingly works president versus president, it also works as a cleric with heavy armor. It's not great as a defense against a high level rogue, but it's better than most of her friends have. Not to mention Kristen can do aoe none dex spells that are good against rogues as they won't get evasion from them. it's not great to have your healer dealing with the parties rogue, but sometimes you don't really have another choice. Lots of dangerous cleric spells don't have a dex saving throw so it could be useful once Kristen can see her

Buddy- Adaine. Not a particularly important match up story wise, it has potential but nothing juicy. still a wizard like adaine wouldn't be the worst match against buddy, spell caster vs spell caster, arcane vs divine. Not to mention I think that Buddy doesn't have a lot of HP and probably isn't expecting a melee wizard like Adaine. Adaine can counterspell Buddy's spells while he can impose disadvantage as a light domain cleric, but Wizards don't just make attack rolls, they have saves. Also I think it would be a good contrast in their thoughts, Buddy believing he doesn't cast spells, that Helio/unnamed rage god works through him to cast spells vs Adaine who as a wizard has learned all of her spells. It's also a good contrast between the Bad Kids and the Rat grinders about the theme of this season, hard work vs taking the easy way out.

Mary-Ann - Riz. This is probably one of the worst match ups, no one wants to go up against a high level barbarian 1v1. This isnt' an anime where the fast sneaky person can just lure the big strong bad guy away and keep them distracted. It's dnd where Mary-Ann might just ignore any physical damage because she can at the start.

I think the key to dealing with Mary-Ann is to not fight her. The Bad girls can get around her barbarian resistances with their spells but will go down in a few hits. Fabian can't do enough damage even with all his attacks, Fandragor doesn't do anything about the damage type Fabian does I believe, it works like smites but just increases the Piercing Damage instead of dealing Radiant damage. Gorgug is another Barbarian, but as cool as his new subclass is, I wouldn't put it up against a full also high level barbarian 1v1. Which leaves Riz

However, I think he's the only one who could survive a few rounds with her, he can keep sneaking with his bonus action, disengage (unless she has sentinel), or misty stepping with the Sword of Shadows to get away from her and out of sight and while she will keep halving any damage he does from sneak attack, it's still a decent chuck that even a high level barbarian can't ignore forever. Leaving Riz who can do a decent amount of damage each turn with his sneak attack and not be close to her, he can also halve one of her three attacks. Riz can also do a lot of tricky stuff as an Arcane trickster, Mary-Ann might be immune to fear and charm affects, but she isn't immune to all illusions and enchantments. He could trick her and keep her busy with his spells, with magical ambush she would be rolling her saves with disadvantage. A smart player like Murph could do a lot with his spell list to a Barbarian.

Now obviously, like I said under Mary-Ann/Riz, dnd is not an anime/show/comic book/etc where you can just switch against your doppleganger and win. I think the Bad Kids would beat the Rat Grinders because they know their shit more and they are a party that genuinely cares for each other so their team work has to be better than the party of their dark mirrors who were literally handed xp to power level. That being said I do think the Bad Kids could take their counterpart in 1v1 (with the exception of Gorgug)

Also with the Preview of the next ep(19) the Bad Kids will have to deal with Jace, a high level Sorcerer, and Porter a legendary Barbarian/Paladin, who are definitely more dangerous than a bunch of high schoolers who never really had to fight another party.

Still this was just fun to think about. If you have any thoughts let me know. If you think of your own matchups that you want to discuss also let me know.

[copperpipes]

Ultraman spec bio part 4 (first part/previous part)

spacium energy:

I have been treating spacium energy like a substance despite it not really being one, so I want to pack some headcanons about how exactly it would act and classfie.

Spacium energy is visible by the human naked eye, can solidify into different shapes but stays flexible until released, it emits photons, a particle that's very light and very fast, and it is blue.

The blue color is usually an indicator of temperature, it is a relatively light blue color so this puts it at about 10,000+ kelvin (9726.85°C or 17540.33°F), so pretty hot. As we figured out, spacium is a very good isolator, whether its a metal or not is still a question i don't want to deal with (it is of a metallic color, reflective, but not necessarily a metal and still alien in origin) what we know is that outside energies wouldn’t be able to harm an Ultra, and the Ultra’s inside energy is also protected from inside and out. through their skin is where Ultras get their energy from, it comes from the sun in either solar rays or heat or whatever is available (electric energy, radiation, all kinds of deadly lasers yum) which is why an explosion wouldn’t kill an ultra, the only thing that would be a threat to them is the explosion’s kinetic energy. 

spacium energy is seen on the visible spectrum, but other than that what else can be told about this energy?

what’s it doing in there:

probably bounces off the walls, literally. 

Energy moves in waves, and when it's produced by the membrane of the ultra it is ejected off the walls inside, and it cannot escape (cannot come out!! MAMA!!), so it bounces off the walls. When the energy is directed out, it gains speed thanks to the narrow space in the ultra’s arms and when it comes out as a beam it is subsequently much more concentrated, with very destructive wavelengths similar to gamma rays in intensity, and very hot. 

changing sizes:

I am not talking about mass here and where it goes, I'm talking about what causes Ultraman’s energy levels to drop or shoot up for one reason or another, not about outcome but about cause.

by Ultraman: rising (which is what i'm doing this whole thing for) how much an ultra can last is dependent on their mental state rather than thinning energy reserves like in what i got from other ultra sources.

I wanted to try and combine the two. I want Ultraman’s energy to be an issue, one that doesn't allow to transform at any comfortable moment, that demands the Ultra to know their state and capabilities to ensure no sudden shrinkage.

releasing energy once in a while should also be important, otherwise if an ultra is too full of energy their movements may become stiff and uncomfortable until some energy is released.

why would an ultra involuntarily shrink/why would a color timer be triggered:

-a failsafe mechanism. an ultra in distress/ a scared or stressed ultra, like all living creatures is a dangerous one. removing the ultra to where they can’t harm their environment would ensure its wholeness and the ultra’s sanity. This point acknowledges the power that all ultras naturally possess and that can bring a lot of damage if not controlled.

-low energy reserves.

Actually, what does a color timer even do other than be an indicator?

In canon it's all that is, an indicator, but what if it was what allowed ultras to shapeshift and change sizes in the first place? knowing what they have done, they're probably technologically advanced enough for that to be plausible. when your race is suddenly turned into giants, everything they built probably stayed small, made to fit their size before they grew. 

Returning the ultras to their original size would be easier than rebuilding society, not to mention resources. so maybe they made a device that allowed them to switch between their old, smaller form, and their new natural giant one.

The catch is that they can't stay in their small form forever, because even small, their bodies naturally produce spacium energy, and from time to time it has to be released or else they could literally explode from the pressure. 

maybe some ultras even prefer their bigger size despite the inconveniences. After all, such a drastic change could eliminate or generate so many problems!

For example space travel and travel in general would become a lot less complicated and exisible, for as long as there’s energy hunger wouldn't be a problem anymore, and so much more!

Of course, it's not without cons as well, like population density and resource demand to name a couple, but I guess the population could just spread over a larger territory to solve those problems. we shouldn't forget the Ultra’s destructive potential as well :>

Next, part 5

[tsbs-shipfessions]

Ship confessions?

S..Safe place to share rants?

Oh dear how should I say this...

(Warning for anyone not supporting SolarNexus I guess..)

As much as I like the story of how New Moon went deranged from grief and self deterioration: as in finally realising he can never satisfy this "family's" need of him to be thee og Moon himself. A carbon copy replacement with unrealistic expectations set at full high. (Even though factually thanks to Eclipses V1-4 transitions it's shown that it can't possibly be 100% accurate.) Failing again and again over and over till the event of Solar's death finally snapping him. Derailing himself to push everyone away to the point of losing himself entirely as Nexus.

And Solar valuing New Moon so much that he was in absolute distraught when the first thing he hears upon waking was that his best friend, HIS REASON OF HOME, lost himself so far in the name of lone desperation. A desperation he knows all too well thanks to his past Moon's ungracious reaction to unfortunate loss.

Solar knows what it's like to be alone and afraid. He can't possibly leave Nexus like the others like the flip of the switch! Because just as he gave mercy to Eclipse and Ruin, he'd give mercy to Nexus too.

The canon doesn't make any sense!

And, well, being a silent (yet intimidated from this fandom) supporter of SolarNexus...

The angst writer side of me wishes that this story didn't clap off to the cliche "power hungry" complex.

Why not have Solar continue to drive himself to find some cure or solution? In the name of friendship; to justify himself that he can fix it all before it's too late. To not lose another from his (falsely blamed and uncontrolled) faults. To be the reassurance of comfort Nexus so desperately needed.

Why not have Nexus secretly die inside whenever he speaks the words he does not mean; unwillingly pushing himself to the edge every time he starts to believe hope can be retrieved. Falling in the spiral that nothing is real and he has no right to feel and express. The moment Nexus felt like grasping on light is when strings of dark pull him to a choke to remind just exactly who he's working with. Why he even decided to make a deal with DarkSun. That no matter how Nexus puts it, he technically is a husk for dark star power. An element. Like a living battery for some bigger project he may not be entirely aware of. (And my best guess: a tragic death to Dark Sun's intricate plans.)

A reminder so cruel and twisted that Nexus can't possibly see a way out without Solar's guidance and safety.

Life was never fair for the both of them. They both suffered at being blamed and antagonised for things they had no proper control over. They both had self doubts and a sense that they were never home.

(For f--k's sake! Nexus was LOSING HIS MIND!! CRITICAL DANGER OF WELL BEING, and the "family" decided: Hey! Instead of actually getting him proper treatment, lets just lock him in a cell and keep calling him a villain for insulting people! An action he had no say over because HAHA he LoSt hIs mInD. Wha- eH- HUUEUUH???? NnNO???)

But ey! They were Home for each other.

That's why Solar and NM/Nexus's friendship worked so well! They had a sense of comfort to speak and express openly, to have negativity or concerns spill out without backlash. To actually live freely knowing they have each others back!

And I'd like to believe they'd still ache to have this connection again. That Solar would do whatever it takes to have Nexus free from his chains.

Not to be welcomed by the "family", but to be welcomed by Solar's own loving arms. To get proper care, proper help, proper recognition of all parts of Nexus. Both good and bad.

I really think there's tragedy love potential here. I wished to see them fight whatever forces against them to be together again. To get at least that ounce of safety within the chaos.

Whether it's fighting mental illness or dark star power. Who cares! They gonna be together again dAhM iT! Even if it's just a minute before tragic death from DarkSun or somethin! T-T

*COUGH* oUgh man.. what a doozy of a topic..

Thank you so much for reading! And for making this confessions blog! I appreciate it! Was really good to have this off my chest. Wish you and everyone reading a wonderful day/evenin! :)

I admire the hell out of your passion. This was a good read, and has a lot of neat points. Nice going, Anon.

[logan-lieutenant]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 3 (pt. 2)

[competition ends, time to spin the wheel; Logan starts listing the prizes]

Logan: "...and a Logan mini helmet.."

Alex (who has made NO COMMENT yet and has seen all these prizes before: "Ah, that's not bad!"

oh alex what's wrong? you went most of a video without talking to each other? are you having WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS... merch is merch yeah :/ but it's my teammate's merch :) logan mini helment :D how cool is that :)

Alex (because he can't think before he speaks for the life of him): "I think the prize I wouldn't want.... *visible moment of regret* I– I shouldn't say, but–"

Logan (OH MY GOD THE SUN IS COMING OUT): "I know what it is, I know what you're thinking of!"

oh. oh OKAY. i see how it is now i already said they were in sync but APPARENTLY I DIDN'T SAY IT LOUD ENOUGH cause we had to double back and canonically confirm that out loud OKAY. can i just point out that knowing what someone likes and knowing what someone *dislikes* requires a whole different level of observation? like, think about it? and the dialogue ALONE is enough to write an essay on but the whole thing together?? alex leaning way in shoulder to shoulder we all know he can see the ipad logan chiming in as soon as alex starts fumbling the smile starting to spread on his face even as he's still looking down and then he and alex turn their heads in at the exact same time and logan gives him that smile as he says that line and at first alex is laughing but as soon as he gets those eyes he has to like giggle and blush and look down and curl in on himself WHAT? and then and then. both turning back to the ipad and alex is clearly trying to get ahold of himself and logan just sort of repeats in this half-gentle half-laughing but also like low voice, "I know what you're thinking..." like OOF that took it out of me. somebody on ao3 probably knows a specific term for sweet/teasing/sexy/provocative/taunting/gentle but for now i'm not settling on an adjective!! "I know what you're thinking" both gravelly and endeared after you've made someone literally do the blushing eyes-cast-down thing like 10 cm from their face... that is not from real life!! that is fanfiction!

[prize wheel spins, lands on Logan mini helmet]

Alex: "WHOA!"

Logan: "Oh, it's me..."

Alex *round of actual applause*: "That's a good prize!"

Logan (talking to the camera and ignoring the sparkles and rainbows next to him): "It's a Logan mini helmet... I won the challenge, so it makes sense–"

Alex (completely talking over him): "Is it gonna be signed? Are you gonna sign it? Are you gonna sign it?"

"that's a good prize" YOU SAID THAT ALREADY ALEX! he looks so excited!!! he looks like he got to win a prize– which is his TEAMMATE'S MERCH like, alex is a williams driver as a side hustle. his main career is actually logan sargeant fanboy, sorry to break the news like this.

at this point logan is kind of retreating into his own world again– not kind of, you can tell. the activity is officially over. the spinning the wheel part– the stupid thing all the hype is about– has concluded it. it's like he's got switches in his head that are flipped on and off for him. he did the fun part, he played the game. he had a little fun getting in close proximity to alex towards the end as has become tradition and then it sort of fades away for him.

not for alex, though. for alex, logan's still the brightest in the solar system. no matter how much or how little logan opens the blinds to anyone else alex feels the sunlight like it's never stopped shining. like the light in logan's eyes doesn't go out.

and so alex is excited. he thinks winning and then getting rewarded with the privilege of using essentially a random number generator to give a prize for somebody else who didn't even play is just ridiculous... and it is. but now he's loving it, and we know why

[boilsyouroil]

Is Eclipse Okay Yet!? It's Been Months!

Chapter 1 - Stubbornness Leads You Nowhere

[ AO3 LINK ] - [ CH 2 ]

Word Count ; 2022

Date ; 2024-04-03

AU ; The Oil Au

Notes ; Eclipse is not okay yet.

Takes place after finding out Ruin was evil, before Solar's death.

The sound of rain splashing against the window was the only sound in the room. Not even pained breathing could overtake the peace that held the air captive.

Eclipse tried his damn near hardest to get up, only to sink back into his seat. It hurt too much. All of it hurt too much. He had been alone in the back of the arcade again for a very long two days. Eclipse groaned and rubbed the sore area to try and soothe it enough to get up, but to no avail. In fact, the pressure made it worse.

If only someone were there to pick him up and carry him somewhere comfy, like a nice soft bed. Hell, even a bench or couch was better than this old worn desk chair. Eclipse hated to admit it, but he needed someone to come help him. At this point, he'd willingly get on his knees and beg if he could.

Sadly though, his body would not leave him alone, and so he had no choice but to sit. He reached a hand up to grab onto the desk and push himself toward the light switch. Surprisingly enough, the chair still rolled, even with a broken wheel. But sadly, it didn't make it all the way to the other end of the room. Eclipse groaned and took off his shoe, throwing it at the light switch. He missed, and tried again with the other one. Missed again.

He grumbled in defeat and opted instead to simply shield his eyes from the light. He considered for a moment, pinging someone for help with his predicament, but ultimately decided against it. Not long later, his lack of sleep caught up with him and he was out cold.

----

Solar sighed as he followed close behind Moon, "Are you sure he's actually in here?" Moon nodded, "He can't have gone anywhere else. Besides, the computer said he was throwing a tantrum or something in here last he was seen."

As they entered into the back room of the arcade, immediately something felt different. The lights in the hall were off, and the silence was eerie. Moon went through first, immediately slamming the door to the repair room open. Moon promptly stated the following, "You've had your sulking time, I need you to come help with something." Solar immediately followed Moon.

At about the same time, both of them registered the fact that Eclipse was dead asleep in a very shitty chair, completely silent. Solar and Moon looked at eachother for a minute, before Solar decided to take charge. He walked forward and shook Eclipse's shoulder firmly. Lucky for him, this was enough to rouse the other animatronic from his slumber. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Solar smiled.

Moon had to do his best to stifle his laughter, seeing as Solar just couldn't resist an opportunity to lightly insult Eclipse. Eclipse found himself looking up at Solar, his eyes had a lifeless glare. Moon almost immediately noticed something was wrong, and stepped closer. "Eclipse, wake your ass up." Eclipse groaned as the pain from just hours ago finally hit him like a train.

"I'm up, what do you want?" He managed to wheeze out to Moon. Moon frowned and crouched a bit, blocking the light from Eclipse's eyes. "I need you to help me with something, but first I want you to explain why you think it's okay to just disappear into one room for days on end without saying anything?" Sitting himself upright with a wince, Eclipse moved to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Simple answer, I wanted something, I got what I wanted, then I got stuck."

"Stuck, what do you mean stuck?" Solar chimed in, walking over to inspect the back of Eclipse's faceplate for any idea as to what was going on. Eclipse, rather surprisingly, didn't fight back. "The little cretin that rebuilt me had the bright idea of making it..." Eclipse hissed mid-sentence, another wave of pain shot through him, "impossible for me to function without suffering." Eclipse stated it as such a fact that it made Moon's blood boil. He knew Ruin was a prick, but to give someone chronic pain, let alone to such severe amounts? That's just plain awful.

Moon thought for a moment, then promptly hooked his hands under Eclipse's arms and yanked him from the chair, no real regard for how he felt. "Come on, you tree." Moon grunted as he threw the taller animatronic over his shoulder. He began walking to the daycare. Eclipse's response to this? Struggling to get free, of course! He was stubborn, that was one thing you could never take from an Eclipse. Hell, even Solar was stubborn, and he was practically the polar opposite of all other Eclipses. Eclipse kicked Moon in the stomach and cried out, "Put me down, you fucking blueberry!"

After realizing Moon wouldn't give in, Eclipse instantly looked towards Solar, hissing out, "Help me out of this you useless-" he grunted, struggling to find an insulting nickname to use against Solar, "thing!" Solar choked for a moment in an attempt to stifle his laughter. "Moon, you owe me like seven hundred dollars. Eclipse, with very little respect, I refuse to help you. Besides, seeing you helpless is kind of funny to me."

Eclipse groaned and mumbled, though what he said when unheard. He felt his face begin to heat up from embarrassment. This new emotion led to him pressing his entire body into a smaller state, knees bent in, shoulders raised and arms crossed, head pulled closer to his body.

Only a few minutes passed and Eclipse found himself on Moon's couch, being guarded by Solar as Moon was in another room to retrieve god knows what. Eclipse sat with his legs spread out, and his arms crossed over his chest, attempting to put a barrier between himself and Solar without looking like some scared kid. For a moment, Eclipse forgot Solar was there, being lost in his thoughts. It wasn't long before he was brought back to reality by a surge of pain so bad he thought he would die. He hissed and tensed up, leaning forward.

Solar crouched next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't fall off the couch on me. I don't wanna have to pick you back up." Eclipse groaned and rolled his head to the side so he could look Solar in the eyes. The pity that met his gaze made him want to gag. Eclipse grabbed Solar's wrist and pushed him away, but this only made Solar more insistent, now putting both hands on Eclipse's shoulders.

He pushed Eclipse back far enough that he was leaning into the backrest, the cushion enveloping both sides of him. He didn't fight back this time, nor did he immediately spring up the second Solar released him. This position was comfortable, and actually helped a bit now that he wasn't folded right over the painful area. Solar seemed to notice this by the way his face flashed into a knowing smile.

Moon came back with a heated blanket, promptly tossing it right over Eclipse. Solar and Moon sat on the other couch, Moon eating a bag of chips. Eclipse, having only gotten a few hours of sleep in the fazcade, soon passed out again, not even laying down. He looked awfully peaceful while he slept, so much so you would have never thought he was the villain in the story. Solar promptly snapped a picture for later.

----

Eclipse woke to the sound of Moon's voice. "So what if he's been sleeping for two days!? Let him rest! He may be our mortal enemy but that doesn't mean we can just take away his basic fucking needs! How would you feel if I woke you up from a much needed nap!?"

"Moon I need to clean the blanket it hasn't been washed in a week!"

"You can wash it when he's done using it, instead of waking him up to steal it from him!"

He opened his eyes to see Sun and Moon standing in the kitchen, bickering, Sun had a half empty bottle if wine in hand and Moon was standing in his way of getting out from behind the island. Eclipse groaned and sat up, causing both the twins to fall silent.

"Quit your fucking fighting, you'll wake the damn dead with all that noise." In the blink of an eye, Moon was standing over Eclipse with one hand on his faceplate, looking him over. "Eclipse! It's been two days, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, Moon. Get your damn hands off me!" Eclipse growled, moving to stand up. Moon promptly pushed him back onto the couch, hissing at him, "Stay down and just relax for five minutes. Last I checked, you don't have anywhere you need to be, so just chill. Me and Sun will bring you what you need, just take it easy for the day."

"Very funny. I don't need your damn pity, and I certainly don't care for sitting down and taking a damn break." Eclipse spat as he tried once again to worm his way off the couch. He made it about two inches from his seat before he was pushed right back onto the sofa. He chuckled, "You just aren't gonna give up, are you, Moon? You going to keep me here as your little couch prisoner? God you're annoying." Moon sighed, "I don't want you to get up unless you absolutely have to right now, your body needs time to rest. Besides, you deserve to take a break once in a while."

"Well aren't you just peachy?" Eclipse taunted Moon as he tried to get up again. As assumed, his attempts were pointless. Moon ended up putting Sun on guard duty while he left to get dinner. Sun, to nobody's surprise, was freaking out the entire time.

Come dinnertime, Eclipse found himself sat between Sun and Moon. He was given food that he didn't actually end up touching. Unlike the rest of the celestials, he hasn't been built with basic needs in mind. While he had the systems to eat, he couldn't open his mouth. This often led to him going to get food to cure his hunger, only to end up giving away the food he made so it wouldn't be wasted. Eclipse tried to express this issue to Moon on multiple occasions, but he didn't ever end up finishing his sentences due to either being ignored or interrupted.

After dinner, Moon led Eclipse to the guest room, tossing him a brand new pair of pajamas, still had the tags and everything. The outfit was rather soft to the touch, and somehow just the perfect size.

Unlike Moon or Sun, his clothing wasn't cemented onto his body, so he definitely was able to spend his time appreciating other outfits. He looked in the mirror at the way the pajamas fit him, and he smiled softly at how perfect this seemed. After a little longer of admiring his new sleepwear, Moon interrupted him.

"Come on, go to bed. I want to turn all the lights out now, and to do that everyone needs to be in bed." Moon stated this rather calmly as he pushed Eclipse into the bed. He handed Eclipse the remote to the TV and then left, turning out the lights. Moon was rather surprised when he shut the door and went up the stairs, only to hear the Bluey intro song of all things. He hadn't taken Eclipse to be someone who even watched TV, let alone kid's cartoons.

----

Eclipse wriggled himself under the covers, feeling himself become engulfed with warmth. He pulled one of the pillows out from under his head and then decided to turn on a show. After a long time searching, he settled on Bluey. He wasn't exactly in the mood for anything serious, and all the other kids shows were- to put it kindly -obnoxious. After a few hours, Eclipse ended up trailing right back to sleep, pressed against the pillow as though it were a living thing.

[sourtomatola]

Pinned post

Hi! I'm Sourtomatola, you can call me Sour or Toma. I'm happily drowning in the FNAF fandom, mostly for the daycare attendant, Sun and Moon. (also am certified Eclipse SIMP)

I write fics, draw (a lot of comics and fanart), and animate. I also have a Kofi shop who's sole item is embordered DCA butt earrings (for now)

I do not do requests. Please be respectful.

Ko-fi

Youtube

Stuff I've done you might enjoy:

Fic's: My AO3

Rise of Eclipse |Shooting for the Sun |Of wood carving and Metal wiring

Buckethead Family (Kill code fic, very dark, lots of death)

Dark fae AU series: MASTERPOST

Thing on your swing

A midsummer nightmare(spinoff)

Comics:

Thing on your swing (in comic form)

The entire first chapter: Part1 | Part2

Stalker Y/N AU (not Yandere)

First episode

Master post

Arsenic and Old lace AU:

Discovering a body | Accusations

Others of mine:

Farmer and chicken au

Pro(phesy) T-shirt AU

Sun eating glitter glue

Prosthetic AU: Part1 | Part2 | Part3

Learning Tolerance and fetch (comic) (Fic Here)

Big brother Moon: first | second

Candy Factory AU (aka Taking Candy for a Fool) Masterpost

Powerwash sim

THE PLUSHIE DEBACLE (True story)

Camelot AU : Masterpost

Light switched AU | Part3? | Part4 | Part5 (darn it) | Part6 :)

Moon activation noise

Sun in a rocket

Sun vs fish

black eye fic

Spooder Moon fic

Not My AU/fic comics (credit's are in the posts):

Enthralling you enthralling me (Vampire AU) Masterpost

Anything for the truth

Sleuth Jesters:

No small favors

Take a bow

Bounty hunter eclipse saves Vigilante

MB Eclipse being a creep

Henchman Humphry (my idea in SJ world)

Eclipse dancing animation

Cosmic Chaos (My story, not my AU):

The bank altercation | The kidnapping | The New guy Part1+2 | Part 3+4 | Part 5+6 | Part 7+8 | Part9 | Part 10 (last)

Villainous Trio (some fanart, and some creative liberties):

AU comic

Fanart

doodles

Fic

fanart of fic

Solar and his Sunny

Accidentally undercover:

Idiots in love

The brothers are all idiots

Biting the hand that feeds AU:

Meeting the boys

Moon's trolling

Moons hat

Ghost in the machine AU

Nova Zoomies

Sombra dancing like a bird of prey animation

Misuta and fool dance off animation

You and I, and Sol animation

Delivery guy is misunderstood

GITM roll call

Wine and feathers (and blood and feathers):

Harpy Sun being dramatic

harpy moon dancing animation

BAF Moon ficlet

Vampire equinox:

Eclipse Pic

Fic to go with the pic

Any comic related to The Sun and Moon show:

Bloody solar animation

You don't need that much sanitizer

Sun teaching earth how to drive

Solar paint job

Blood Moon going after Sun

Ruin's tea party

Solar in jack

Sun's TRUE PURPOSE animation

Nexus be like

One time comics AU:

Kappa Sun

I WANT MOON TO BITE ME (tw blood)

Dealer's choice, chapter 27

Beings made of stardust AU (sources of light fic tho)

Staff and security stinky

One time fics I didn't post to my AO3 (not my au's):

The dark Sun's approach

[h-didanart]

Hello hello, welcome back everyone to the Sunrise Arc Theatre au!

Now, for today’s batch of doodles we have some stuff from the Sunset and Moonlight Musical, brought to you by me going into a four(?) hour long YouTube binge for songs from musicals and stuff to add to both plays. It’s still pretty barebones compared to Get in Losers but it’s slowly gaining shape.

The first thing to show you all will actually be parts of a performance by the main villain of the play!

Thanks to all the chaos Moonlight and Sunset managed to set themselves with, Phantom Lunar was able to get the star with little difficulties. It was only natural for the little devil to then proceed to rub it in everyone’s faces, It’s Gonna Get Weird is the closing number for this arc of the play.

Featuring black lights and a harness (that’s what the thing that makes people fly on stage is called, yes?), this song is a chaotically fun performance truly brought to life by Haunting’s cheery delivery and bone-chilling demeanor. They have shown to love this choreography, often adding his own little dance moves to their different on stage performances, though at first he was reluctant to even try it due to the flying sections, they’ve never been a fan of heights. It definitely didn’t help that the worker in charge of him apparently teased them for it. The worker did not deny having said something about it when asked. Regardless of past fears, Haunting enjoys this song a lot and very often can be seen mindlessly practicing the moves.

And now, you will all get the chance to see some small sneak peaks into some of the songs in this play’s lineup, and get some exclusive commentary from the actors! Let’s get to it!

What was a casual hangout in the Alternate Lunar’s dimension soon turned into an awkward situation for the young Eclipse. He hadn’t known he’d step into a touchy subject with that small joke! Luckily the Alternate Lunar seemed more preoccupied with making a point about stuffing your face with sweet icy treats rather than guilting the solar bot about his mistake. Upgrades.

“I try to make the same face I made the first time I heard that line, but like, there’s something about the shock from that statement that just manages to get me to pull that expression even if I’m not trying to. It’s useful but oh my god is it awkward” —Clipsy Corona Galaxia

“I find it very funny honestly, that whole musical is just my sense of humor really! Though it does mean that I have to play it cool when I’m mentally cackling like a hyena at this guy’s reaction” —Umbra Blaze

Short lived but well remembered, an unlikely duo terrorizes the twins, dropping by randomly and demanding to play tea party. Moonlight and Protostar would wave them off had Phantom Lunar not had the powers of a God and basically be able to puppeteer anyone at any point they so desired. This was a party they could not decline the invitation to

“I like to sing this one! It’s very fun, and upbeat, and then it turns into a horror movie! What more could you ever want?” —Haunting Lune Aurora

“Yes, yes, this one is wondrous, quite charming really. Shame we do not get more appearances together, but alas, we got one semi-duet and that feels right for the characters and play” —Ruin Eclair Baker

“Moving as if you were a puppet is a lot more difficult than it appears, would not recommend” —Morning Star Galaxia

Having struggled to put himself in the right path, Moonlight finds himself frustrated with his twin’s lack of communication. It wouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d reciprocate the treatment, going through his own routes to ensure his family’s safety. Surely it will all work out in the end.

“I love this song. I know it’s a villain song but honestly that just makes it better, it’s just so cool! And way better than what I was gonna sing originally, I still think they switched my and Sunrise’s scripts or something” —Waning Moonlight Galaxia

“We did not switch their scripts, Get in Losers had already had a few runs before we even started auditions for Sunset and Moonlight. We just saw that the song would fit someone over here more than over there” —Herald Shadow Art, Head of Writing

It went wrong. It all went so wrong. It couldn’t have gone worse.

“I’m just gonna say it first, this is a completely safe thing to do. Yes there’s props that can catch on fire around, but me and some of our special effects guys have already thought that through. The only thing that’s gonna get burned is gonna be my clothes and that’s for a very cool quick change that probably won’t hurt me, so it’s all fine and good” —Waning Moonlight Galaxia

“It’s special fire produced by a specific mix of magically rooted powders, it looks like a tough flame but it can barely light a scrap of paper on fire” —Moonstone Crystal, Special Effects Department

“Finding a textile that would burn with such little heat was fucking hell, so no, there’s no danger in these stunts” —Eclipse Solar Macabro, Head of Costuming

[hairscare]

Id love to hear more about your interpretation of the sins

EDIT THIS IS SO OUTDATED IN TERMS OF SATAN + BEELZEBUB RIP

heres the family dynamics! + some notes

- the 7 kings are still fully in charge of everything while their kids are mainly just weird celebrities who do projects sometimes that the kings dont want to

- satan, asmodeus, mammon, beelzebub and leviathan have other kids but these are the one they dub as their heirs even tho theyre not dying or retiring ever. lumiloriol is the only child of lucifer that just kinda a part of a solar flare off of his radiant light once and then was taken in by satan. belphegor made dumois bc they felt like they should have at least 1 heir but dumped her in some estate and never visits

- further clarification for the lucifer/satan thing, its inspired by paradise lost where the demons are turned into snakes for a few days every year but they get to be fallen angels most of the time, but i thought itd be interesting to switch that since theyre supposed to be punished, so instead satan is active most of the time and lucifer emerges from his body like a chrysalis for a few days a year before he has to go back in. satan is lucifer in that he was him and then was corrupted, he did all that shit, its just that lucifer is also preserved inside of him if that makes sense. so like satan is lucifer but lucifer isnt satan. hes still evil tho obvs

- i only have a designated second parent for concupiscence bc ive liked the idea of asmodeus and beleth being a thing for years now plus asmodeus needs gay dads. aureus and gaglug are also born from consorts of the princes, but the other four were born just from their one parent

[monsterfloofs]

🦑🪐🎻

Albiorix (Alien) x Anonymous Reader (sfw)

(Squid bby, squid bby, squid bby!!)

You looked down from high above the starlite stadium, rows upon rows of seats filled with chattering beings from all corners of the galaxy. It was an amphitheater, massive in design, made to hold concerts with vast swimming crowds of beings.

It was your first time attending an event in something so gigantic, you surmised that there had to be a maintenance crew that lived here, when the amphitheater wasn’t in use. It could have easily been its own space station, charting courses to each new solar system, to sit spinning in the orbit with electric signs and screens that showcased collective talent from across the stars.

You bump into a tall android like being, that glanced over its shoulder at you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked before ducking away.

“Humans. . .” They muttered, and your heart sank, holding your tablet to your chest. You hadn’t synced your glasses to the data show that the others were participating in yet. Sticking to your tried and true methods of information until you found your seat. It must have been spectacular though, so many captive faces held in wonder, looking at a fixed point in the theater. It was eerie without the glasses on, folks just staring hypnotized into space.

You checked your tablet again, releasing a breath of relief as you sat down, and switched on your glasses. Suddenly the quiet space was bustling with dancing lights and commotion, a bright electronic pink heart pulsing above the theater, sending jagged zaps of electricity over the crowd.

No wonder everyone was staring, you watched the lightning shower into pixels that were swept into different images and sayings. Welcome in a stellar wide reach of languages.

Then a sound of strings purr to life as the light show fades, and a hush goes over the crowd. A soft glow illuminating the stage below, it was too far away to see the musician from this height, but screens blinked on to display the figure.

A multitude of string instruments help aloft with tendrils, as four arms played them, with elegant bows. Albiorix, nicknamed the symphony of one. You stared at the screen in fascination, how did they have the mind to do that many things at once? Being able to read all those different lines of music and notes. Yet their expression was as serene as the sunrise.

It was a captivating hour of song, ending with a spectacular and rigorous performance of a particularly complexe and fast melody. They bowed with all four arms behind their back as the crowd exploded into applause.

You took off your data-specs, letting yourself get bustled back to the shuttle by the waves of beings. Many were talking excitedly to each other. You put a hand in your pocket to fish out your pass back home, coming out empty handed. You felt your stomach plummet.

“Oh no. . .” You breathe, before turning like a fish trying to swim back upstream.

“Sorry! Excuse me! Oops— my bad!” You squeeze back through the crowd to check your seat. Patting down the chair and looking underneath it, in hopes of finding one stray card that had slipped through your fingers.

“Is there a lost and found near-by?” You asked a couple, who blinked multiple eyes before pointing.

“Thank you!”

You hurried down the stairs, tapping away at your tablet, in an attempt to send a notice up that there was a missing pass.

By the time you had talked to multiple beings, and searched high and low, most of the large crowd had cleared out.

“You can order a new pass,” A friendly face suggested,

“Won’t it take days to register a new one? Especially in the busy season?”

They looked sympathetic, “You can message your family, the station does serve food and has guest lodging.”

You try to smile, but it comes out frail and strained.

“. . . Thanks for your help anyway.”

You sigh, rubbing your cheek, so much for a short jaunt away from homeworld. At least it was going to be 10 days before the amphitheater was going to start its next leg of the journey. You try to cheer yourself up, putting your specs back over your eyes and looking around at all the signs that sprung up into your vision. Taking the path towards the room services to buy a room for the night while you waited for your new pass to come in.

“I didn’t know someone else was in this sector!” A cheery voice sounded at your back, causing you to turn around. Surprised as you saw Albiorix, four arms full of teetering musical equipment. Your eyes wide as you jumped to assist them.

“Oh! Thank you, thank you!” They bubbled, as the two of you fumbled around until you could stand back with some of their things held safetly in your arms.

“No one came to help you?”

“Oh-“ they made a sound like a cork being shot out of a pipe organ, waving a tendril dismissively.

“I told them to take the night off, I’ve lugged this stuff the galaxy over, and they besides deserve a break.”

You blinked, at the rather rude sound, an incredulous smile cracking across your face.

“Tosh,” They trumpeted cheerily, “Besides, I wouldn’t have run into such a kind soul if not! I was raised in a very different environment you know,” They rambled, “Not as social as these ecosystems, and I must say, I am a fan!”

You trailed beside them, a smile growing across your face with each step.

“I’m Albiorix, by the way,”

You laugh, “I think I know who you are,”

Another pop sound, “You know my music! Not me, I mean, true, that is a part of me! But did you know that I am quite the talker?” They blustered cheerfully. “Musicians can be very different then their tastes, when I was a young little shrimp, why there was this one very talented musician, with the personality of a—“

You never knew what they were, because it just so happened that the word must have not had a proper translation in your communicator. And you laughed out loud at the noise they made. While a language barrier existed, the tone came through loud and clear.

“They were really that bad?”

“Deplorable! From then on, I wanted to be a musician that could make friends wherever I go.”

You grin up at them, “Well. . . I think you accomplished that very well.”

[nova-they-exist-yup]

new banner!

I made the layout for my tumblr a hot second ago so just making it more comfy for who I am now

anyways here’s the (full) banner

it didn’t originally start of as a banner at all, but it works and I like the piece so why not show off?

anyways uhhh description that I wrote when I made it:

The Sun doesn't need the Earth or Moon. They only hinder it from its orbit around the galaxy. Too annoying, they are, pestering it for actions it had taken."It's for your life" the Sun will say to the Earth, "That's why I act the way I do." Meanwhile it's solar flares break the technology humanity has spent so long to create, and it's UV rays damage human's skin.

From afar, the Moon and the Earth circle in a silent, gentle waltz. The Moon glares and sneers at the Sun, knowing that it wishes to switch places and have the Earth as its own. The Sun simply glares back, letting its light be a constant reminder to the orbital partners that it is there, watching and looking on, and that one day, it will have the Earth in a waltz of its own.

Time taken: 5 hours, 35 minutes

[elminx]

Energy Update: Solar Eclipse 21° Libra, 10/14/2023

Note: I've talked about eclipses many times before. I am going to make reference to past posts but try not to cross over too much of the same ground again. Please reference this post for more information.

On Saturday 10/14, we will experience a partial solar eclipse at 21° Libra. This is our first solar eclipse since the lunar nodes switched to the Aries-Libra axis during the month of July. In this way, this is a highly significant lunar event that will set the tone for the eclipse seasons to come over the next two and a half years.

The Set Up

October is an "8" month in a "7" year. During the eclipse, the Sun, Moon, and Mercury will be conjunct in Libra, Venus will be in Virgo, Mars in Scorpio, retrograde Jupiter and Uranus in Taurus, retrograde Saturn and Neptune in Pisces, and Pluto in Capricorn. The asteroid Chiron is sitting in conjunction with our North Node in the sign of Aries. All of our outer planets will be in retrograde motion except for Pluto who stationed direct the Tuesday beforehand.

There are a number of transits in play during this lunar event:

Stellium: Sun, Moon, Mercury, and the South Node in Libra (5° orb)

Solar eclipse square Pluto in Capricorn (6° orb)

Mercury in Libra opposed to Chiron in Aries (01° orb)

Venus in Virgo opposed retrograde Saturn in Pisces (04° orb, exact Tuesday)

Mars enters Scorpio (Thursday)

Mars in Scorpio trine retrograde Saturn in Pisces (01°, exact Friday)

Pluto stations direct 27° Capricorn (Tuesday)

Retrograde Neptune in Pisces sextile Pluto in Capricorn

Chiron conjunct the North Node in Aries (7° orb)

When determining the significance of transits, one should consider the most exact transits and all transits involving the lunar event to be highly significant. Second to that, we take into account aspects to our personal planets. Outer planet aspects will color the general feel of the day but will, for the most part, not impact our individual lives.

In this way, we should note a strong opposition between the stellium of our Sun, Moon, Mercury, and the South Node in Libra and Chiron and the North Node in Aries. Additionally, both Venus and Mars are in aspect with Saturn, our planet of restriction and boundaries.

The Nitty Gritty

This solar eclipse will have mixed energy as it combines the energy of new beginnings from the new moon with endings due to its conjunction with the South Node. There is a lot of pain close to the surface which may be stopping us from stepping forward into the new beginning that we are looking for (Chiron conjunct the North Node). This is your cosmic reminder that pain isn't always the STOP sign that we think it is, but instead is more of a check engine light.

Pain tells us that there is something that needs attention.

You may be holding on to something too tightly. Both Venus in Virgo and Mars in Scorpio will be in tight aspect with retrograde Saturn all week. Saturn is often known as the planet of restriction, but this is because he is Father Time. Saturn, like the lunar nodes, is closely associated with the concept of fate - but fate very rarely means what you think that it does. Time is relentless, always marching onwards. If the old adage is the only inevitabilities are death and taxes, Saturn controls both. Saturn is the reminder that as time goes on, some of the options that we kept on the back burner slip away.

Every opportunity in your life has a limited half-life. We just can't do everything. Eventually, we need to choose.

That's where the lunar eclipses come in. Everything is a choice; but eventually, if you don't make a choice, the world moves on. There is an element of analysis paralysis at play here (Libra's greatest weakness) - somebody needs to shit or get off of the pot, metaphorically speaking.

Eclipses are the Big Hitter transits of the year - they tend to feel so far beyond us that it can be overwhelming. Sometimes it can feel easiest to run from this energy or to disassociate and hide your head in the sand. That's not an option when Saturn is in play - Saturn demands that you put in the work in your own life.

It won't feel comfortable for anyone, but those who are showing up, who are trying to make changes, who are keeping their eyes wide open and witnessing their own life - those are the people who will shine through this lunation.

This isn't to say that they will be able to control how the eclipses show up in their lives. Eclipses are wild card energy; the best we can do is enjoy the ride. But if you've made right in your life, if you know what you need to let go of and what you need to draw in - you may recognize it when eclipses give you what you need.

The same old eclipse advice is in play here: Stay VERY AWARE of what doors open and close for you during the upcoming eclipses and the two weeks between these lunar events. Eclipses have a way of aligning you toward your life path (astrology is, in essence, a study of who you are and what you were born to experience in this lifetime). This isn't as restrictive an idea as people would like to believe: there is no one way to walk your "life path" - you always have free will and choice. Still, the natal birth chart especially does highlight the parts of life where you will find the most rich and meaningful experiences.

As the eclipse falls on the Aries-Libra axis, we all - collectively and personally - are struggling in some fashion with the conflict between being true to ourselves (Aries) versus being part of the collective (Libra). With Chiron so tightly in play, we can see that pain is close to the surface. You may find yourself questioning some things you were taught as a child by your family, religious group, or culture - especially if you are undergoing a Saturn return, square, or opposition.

Aries teaches us that it is right - even holy - to be our own true selves. The pain of this individualization process is being highlighted by Chiron and the North Node's conjunction in the sign of the Ram. Chiron shows us that it hurts while the North Node reminds us that we should do it anyway. The one person that you always need to be accountable to is yourself. (Libras especially may find that idea triggering)

In a very triggery week, it is worth remembering that triggers can be sacred things too - they show us the parts of ourselves that need attention. If you are in a space where it is safe to do so, try leaning into the pain rather than away from it. There is a lot to uncover in the weeds during this time.

There is no easy this week. Life is just like that sometimes. Practice your very best self-care if you need it. This energy will lift at the end of the month after we go through our eclipsed Scorpio full moon the weekend before Halloween.

Do you like my work? You can support me by tipping me here on Tumblr or on Kofi. Every little bit helps.

[ninjastar107]

'Caught Inbetween' - A protoman-centered MMC fic

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

What was he, really? He was too advance to be like the other machines, but he was too mechanical to be human. Somehow he found himself being a bit of both, being seen as a kid dressed up in a costume by onlookers until they had a better look at his eyes.

The glow always gave him away.

Too mechanical to cause harm, but too human to follow orders. He was a machine, but to what purpose? A son? A vagabond? Blues let the 'thought' be his last. He watched the sunset through dimming vision, the orange mass wobbling and melting into the horizon.

-- "Solar powered, of course that blasted Dr. Light built this one…" an unfamiliar voice grumbled, " Faulty too, must be a prototype."

Where was he? Who was that? He was barely past the BIOS screen when the world faded out once again.

--

Something had changed. There was a new heat that ran through his tubes and wires, coursing with the force of a fusion reactor. Blues snapped his eyes open, the shock of his functions running without delay holding him in silence. Here he was again upon a table, just like the first day he was activated all over again. Above him stood the doctor -a different one this time- who marveled proudly at his work. "Who are you?" Blues asked in awe. "Just an old doctor who happened upon you. Dr. Light always gives up halfway through making a robot, and I always have to finish the job." Wily lamented, "Like with you and your faulty core that I generously replaced. Not all of his robots get this special treatment from me!" Blues sat up. The area around felt like a lab albeit a bit too bright for his liking. Why he could hardly see the doctor over the floodlight above him. A few white screens flickered against the wall, too bright for him to make out anything. "I have so little at my disposal but I had just enough to fix you up! Now you can go and fulfill your function!" Wily smiled. Blues thought on it, flexing his fingers. "I do not have one." Wily stared at him, eyes narrowing as a smug grin tugged at his cheeks, "Oh leave it to Light to not even program that into his machines… No matter, I can fix that!" Blues watched the doctor pace around before heading towards the monitors and merging with the light. He boxed his eyes in an attempt to dim the area, feeling for the light switch on the floodlight and accidentally knocking a few tools off a side table. Wily flashed a brief glare between rummaging about, his hands moving to make a slight modification to the helmet he fashioned. "Hold still now," Wily ordered and promptly stuck it on him, "There you go my boy, a little protection for your new purpose!" The world dimmed tremendously beneath the tinted visor, unveiling a level of detail more attuned to what he was used to. It must be a side effect to the new core, maybe too much energy flow to his optics? The only other explanation would be that this doctor looked at more than his power input... "You never explained what that exactly is." Wily ran a hand down his mustache in disdain, "The world out there is so cruel to someone like me, a shunned expert. Dr.Light gets all of the credit for all of the hard work I put in, why I'm practically exiled from society!" The doctor went back to rummaging, "There is this pesky robot named 'Megaman' always destroying my work! Nothing but minor setbacks, but annoying ones at that! I want you to stop him." Blues glanced down at the buster Wily had procured and offered. He had seen similar designed tools for construction droids, but never without extra wires or battery. "The pest has one similar, but yours is much more powerful. You should be able to defeat him easily- here, let ol' Dr. Wily install it for you!" Not that Blues was going to say no, this doctor saved his life after all and it wouldn't be right to not repay him in some way. He watched intently at the process, noting what parts need to be removed and readjusted so that he could reverse it later. This was just all part of the repayment plan, and once Megaman was defeated, he would return to his normal wandering ways. He wasn't programmed for combat…. but how hard could it be?