#come onnnn prime

[typicalopposite]

They’re not going to spoon all night…

…or wake up in each others arms…

…or eat breakfast together.

[blu-ish]

Okay, now that Sonic Primes over and I'm semi-sane again... WHEN IS BUSINESS IS DANGER DROPPING ON SPOTIFY????

[mothbbones]

awesome season but i could not for the life of me stop thinking about how that one part coulda made for a sick as hell hyper sonic comeback

[mundanemiseries]

// i....just got kicked out of my w.arframe session cause my uncle's using my psn to play c.od

... thx tito :T

[hawkezone]

[[ RETURN TO HALAMSHIRAL - PART TWO ]]

A missing Queen Cousland, whispers of an elven rebellion, and one hell of a party: Hawke, Fenris, and Varric attend a lavish ball at the Winter Palace celebrating Empress Celene and Marquise Briala's alliance, where Hawke finds himself enlisted to help by a man with a strong Fereldan accent and a deep-seeded fear of swooping. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, sequel to The Seat of Power.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2]

♕

“Dorian?”

Angus, leaning over himself in the library under the rookery at Skyhold, muttered into the flipped-open sending crystal his boyfriend had given him. He should’ve attended the party. Why did he let Josephine talk him into staying behind? And Leliana had been rather keen on him staying at Skyhold, too. Angus had long ago begun to put two and two together about “the safety of the Inquisitor”, but he was starting to get lonely in Skyhold, all alone, this evening. Even Cullen had gone off to the party, or, possibly, given up in defeat and was drinking alone in his carriage waiting for everyone to go home.

Angus waited, hoping Dorian would be in a quiet enough place in the party to hear him through the crystal. He knew Dorian wore it around his neck everywhere they went without each other - if only so Dorian could update him on the assorted social and/or fashion disasters he encountered on his many trips back to Minrathous.

“Dorian? Doriannnn. Come onnnn.” Angus, uncharacteristically, whined into the crystal. Next to him were several empty miniature novelty bottles of Seheron dry, which he insisted he hadn’t drank all by himself, and half a glass of whiskey. The whiskey, of course, counted as dessert.

Meanwhile, back at Halamshiral, Dorian could hear a faint buzzing coming from the locket he wore around his neck, as he continued to prime Alistair for more information - and pump him full of more ale. Unfortunately, the ale was indeed dwarven and watered-down, which meant he’d have to feed him much more of the stuff to get to the juicy bits.

Holding a finger up to Alistair, who was mid-woeful-rant, Dorian flipped open the locket, and strained to hear Angus’s soft, Marcher accent over the loud hustle of the party.

“Yes, my dear amatus?” he greeted, over the crystal, holding the rest of it towards his ear, frowning at the background noise.

“....come home soon so I can tell you I miss you… …bet you look good in your formal coat.. ….osephine left so many of these bottles here for the guests, can you believe….”

Dorian sighed. He could barely hear a thing, although it seemed like Angus, at least, was keeping occupied.

“Amatus,” he repeated, holding the crystal closer to his lips. “I can see you’ve had a lot of fun without me, and I can’t wait to get back to Skyhold to see how my Inquisitor wants to handle his lack of handling, but - you’re never going to believe who I’m talking to right now.”

Alistair watched, as Dorian continued his conversation, one-sidedly.

“Yes. No, not you. I know I’m also talking to you, but - yes. Mm-hmm. You know, next time I’ll just ask Josephine to put some mixers in with the wine for you to slow it down. No, you’re rotten. You are. …. Keep that up and I’ll really have to leave the party early.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes and sighed again, in defeat, taking another swig from his ale as Dorian’s conversation took another turn.

“You know just how to push my buttons. All right. But no necromancy this time. We both thought it would be funny but it just ended up being unsavory.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows. Dorian, it seemed, finally remembered why he’d interrupted Angus in the first place.

“But you haven’t guessed who! Right, right. Remember the meeting you had back at Haven? Yes! I know! That’s what I asked him!”

Dorian clapped a hand over the crystal, and turned to Alistair. “Angus wants to know if you’ve found your missing wife yet.”

Alistair gave him the most despairing look yet. Dorian perked up.

“Right! Right. That’s what you were telling me.” He turned back to the crystal. “No, he hasn’t. And he’s asking us if we know where she’s gone. I know. I told him about Hawke going to Weisshaupt. He is? He has? He - is - are they all here? …I’m going to murder Varric.”

With that, Dorian clapped the crystal locket shut, and carefully slipped it back under his shirt.

Giving Alistair the slyest of smiles, he leaned coyly over the bartop.

“Today, I think, is your lucky day,” Dorian smiled.

Alistair felt himself involuntarily skip a beat. Whatever was coming was sure to be something big.

-

The lowly music of the single harp played through the open courtyard, the golden light of the strung-up candles glinting off the gold and augments of the gathered Orlesian nobles, craning their necks to get a good look at the plucky minstrel who was chiming classic folk tunes, her belting lighting up the entire garden.

Away from the huddled crowds, in a secluded cloister, were Hawke and Fenris - and only one of them seemed to be having any sort of a good time.

Clutching one of his many beignets he’d tucked away, Hawke smirked. “You think the words are the same in Orlesian?”

“What?”

“They could be saying anything, you know. I don’t speak Orlesian. I wager you don’t, either. They could be singing about how all Marchers are freeloading anarchist backwater pigs, for all I know.”

Fenris glanced sideways at Hawke, who was grinning. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile back. “I doubt that.”

“That’s what I’d do,” Hawke said, breezily, waving a hand at the bard. “If I was supposed to be entertaining a bunch of jackasses all night, I’d definitely try to take the piss.”

“That’s why we don’t let you entertain,” Fenris smirked.

Inside, the orchestra was starting to begin its triumphant wailing, the music coursing through the echoing halls and out into the gardens, just faint enough to mix with the bard’s singing.

“They’ve begun the formalities,” Fenris muttered, barely able to contain his scowl. “If they’re not entertained at every turn, they’ll start to turn on each other.”

“I can understand that,” Hawke said, thoughtfully, face full of beignet. “If I were a noble, I’d want my attention grabbed at every second. No point being bored, I bet.”

“Hawke, you are a noble,” Fenris replied, a bit despairingly. “I must admit, I wonder if your enchantment over snacks and lute-playing won’t betray a more deep-seeded sense of entitlement in the future, judging by how all these Orlesian courtiers act.”

“Me? Entitled? Over a title? Don’t be silly, goose,” Hawke grinned, elbowing Fenris playfully in the side. Fenris didn’t quite scowl, but he didn’t quite grin back, either.

Looking to either side of him, Hawke’s grin widened. Fenris could see the gears clicking together in his head, in ways that made him slightly suspicious - and even more trepidatious.

“Fenris?” Hawke ventured, with a sideways grin. “Can I make up for the Chateau in another way?”

Fenris looked wary, but his expression betrayed his true sense of curiosity. After all, he wouldn’t have followed this idiotic lug of a man all the way here if it weren’t for his morbid sense of passion.

“Make up for it how, Hawke?”

Hawke grinned even wider, and bowed, deeply and theatrically, like a footman. He extended a half-gloved hand to Fenris, without stooping back up, and smiled.

“Would you accompany me to the ballroom floor, milord?” he grinned.

For a brief second, everything froze. Fenris felt his face crack a little, as time came to a whopping halt, and Hawke immediately sensed he had done Something. Not necessarily something wrong, mind you, but the world didn’t come screeching to a standstill with the worries of a thousand centuries plastered across your beloved’s face for nothing.

“Hawke,” Fenris ventured, his voice cracking, like the first jolt of dry lightning in a canyon wracked with drought.

Hawke looked up at him, perplexed, then, immediately, read the expression on his face, backtracking as fast as possible.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I didn’t -”

Fenris, as if coming out of a daze, shook his head, rather firmly. “No, no. It’s just - not with - there’s all these people, Hawke-”

“Wait. Wait. I have an idea.”

Hawke got that mischievous glint in his eye - the one that meant he was about to get them both into massive trouble.

“Hawke - what - ”

Pulling Fenris by the hand, Hawke led him down the hallway into the vestibule, through the halls of the public appartements and out into the garden, where even more various nobles had gathered, listening to the dulcet tones of one of Orlais’ most talented bards. For a moment, Hawke could have sworn it was Maryden Halliwell’s voice, singing in the Orlesian tongue, but he chalked it up to his time spent at Skyhold having taken quite a toll on him.

Tucking into a cloister to the side of the garden, just out of sight - and just in the shadows - for naught but the nosiest of nobles to be seen, Hawke let Fenris go, and placed his hands on his hips, looking rather pleased with himself.

Fenris, bemused, placed his own hands behind his back.

“Plans, Hawke?”

Hawke, with a flourish, took a great, theatrical bow. “Indeed, my dear,” he said, putting one arm behind his own back, and extending the other in a deep, dramatic gesture, offering his open palm to Fenris like a noble on the ballroom floor. Which, for all intents and purposes, he was.

Suppressing a laugh, Fenris cocked a smile at Hawke, who looked up at him - still stooped - through his brow.

“Well?” said Hawke, raising his eyebrows, and tottering a little. “I’m starting to get a little sore, here.”

Letting out an actual chuckle - or, to Fenris’s denial, an actual giggle - he placed his hand in Hawke’s, and Hawke raised himself back up to full height, romantically sweeping Fenris in towards him by the small of his back.

“Your hand goes on my shoulder, I think,” Hawke smiled, teasing, a little primly, but full of warmth. “Unless you don’t want me to lead. Which I always offer, but we know how things usually go,” Hawke winked.

Fenris, glancing away for a moment, braced himself. For a second, he flicked his eyes towards the gathered nobles, through the shadowed cloisters into the well-lit gardens, entranced by the lute-playing of the bard and the thick, scented air of the evening. They were so occupied with their own, brightly-lit world, that they scarcely - if at all - noticed Fenris and Hawke, hidden in the depths of the marbled shadows.

He looked back at Hawke, his eyes expectant.

“I’ve - I’ve never actually danced. With anyone. Before,” Fenris ended, somewhat lamely. He looked away again, but his hand was still firmly placed in Hawke’s.

Despite himself, Hawke burst out in a brief spurt of laughter. Fenris, annoyed, looked back at him, but Hawke was clearly gazing at him with the look he only reserved for the man he loved.

“What, never? Not even at a party? Not even as a joke?” Hawke went on, tucking Fenris in closer by the waist.

Fenris, getting more annoyed by the minute, sighed. “No. It’s not something I had time to do in Tevinter. At all.”

“And in Kirkwall?” asked Hawke, holding Fenris’s hand aloft.

“Kirkwall is not exactly the place that makes one want to dance,” Fenris said, bitterly. “Despite any claims.”

“No one ever asked you?”

“There’s never been such an occasion. And I doubt I’d want to dance with anyone. At all.”

Hawke pouted, a little comically. “Not even me?”

Fenris, finally looking back up, saw that Hawke was trying his damndest to cheer him up. And he couldn’t help but smile.

“...Perhaps you’re the exception.” Fenris flicked his eyes downward, then back up at Hawke, their verdance as clear as ever.  “….You’re always the exception.”

Smiling, Hawke finished pulling Fenris in, and, laying a hand on his arm, gently guided it towards his shoulder.

“I’m not a very good dancer, I’m afraid,” Hawke said, as Fenris lay his hand against Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke’s stubble - which he was very bad at shaving consistently - poked through the thin Orlesian cotton of his upcollared formal shirt.

“Would I have been able to tell?” Fenris replied, smirking, flirtatiously.

“No, probably not. I should just keep my mouth shut,” Hawke said, laughing.

“Don’t,” said Fenris, softly.

Slowly, smiling, Hawke, holding Fenris by the hand, stepped in a graceful circle - as gracefully as he could - as the bard continued her enchanting rhyme. In the shadows of the cloister, nobody could see the two, slowly revolving, like planets gathered around a burning star.

Fenris, trepidatiously, laid his head against Hawke’s chest, as they turned; Hawke immediately clutched him closer, lowering his own head so it tucked gently into his.

As the song wound to a close, Fenris found his head still resting on Hawke’s chest, and he could hear Hawke’s heart beating at a breakneck speed. His fingers wrapped around Hawke’s collar, as he could feel his breath, hot as the night air was cold, burning down Fenris’s own neck.

Hawke, still holding Fenris in one muscular arm, the other hand wandering its way back down towards Fenris’s waist, felt the elf press closely against him, the clink of his armored shoulders and arms rubbing up against the thick fabric of Hawke’s formal coat. Fenris pushed against him, pulling him closer, and as Hawke felt Fenris’s cold, gauntleted fingers close around his neck, he grabbed him even more firmly, crushing him against his chest and hips, feeling the elf open up underneath him as Fenris intensely pushed his body against his, pressing every inch of himself against Hawke’s, as Hawke nudged his knee between Fenris’ legs - both of the men like pendulums in an imminent swing - if either of them moved, even one inch further, the whole thing would come crashing down. 

Hawke, breathing heavily, scarcely dared to move Fenris from his position, lest he lose control completely and pin him to the ground, disgracing this entire social affair - and probably causing the fine bard singing in the garden to completely lose her footing.

“Hawke,” Fenris breathed, roughly, in Hawke’s ear.

Hawke felt his heart skip a beat.

Intensely, softly, without breaking eye contact, Fenris pushed one thumb against Hawke’s Adam’s apple, biting his lower lip. Hawke gulped, feeling Fenris’s fingers press against him, barely choking him, the pointed backs of his gauntlet scratching the back of Hawke’s neck as his hairs stood on end, and he stood at attention. He knew that, at any moment, he could break Fenris’s hold, sweep him up by the legs and pull them both against him, pull his head back and take control, let Fenris drive him to the wilderness of extinction. He hoped that Fenris wouldn’t think he was too uncouth for already planning lines about needing a lot of help with handling his oversized, two-handed warhammer, since that was Fenris’s specialty, after all.

Hawke locked eyes with him, and Fenris’s eyes glowed with an intensity that sent the usually confident Hawke into a venusian, cloudy-headed rabbit hole.

“Perhaps it is my turn to surprise you,” Fenris growled, with an insistent half smile.

Hawke, losing control entirely, pressed his face against Fenris’s, biting on Fenris’s lip before sending himself into a spiral, flicking the inside of Fenris’s mouth with his tongue, holding him in place with one arm while running the other up and down his back, then his side, then down the front of his hips.

“Wait,” Fenris breathed, his voice still guttural, putting a single finger to Hawke’s lips. “Not here.”

He held Hawke by the hand, this time, and pulled him towards the end of the cloister, where a latticed wall covered in nightblooms anchored the corner between the palace and the gardens proper.

Indicating the wall with his head, Fenris withdrew his finger from Hawke’s lips, smiling with an intense, mischievous grin. Letting Hawke go, he backed up into the lattice, where Hawke, cottoning on, began grinning himself, helping Fenris up and over the garden wall with a light foothold, making a step with his cupped hands.

Following him over the wall, Hawke paused for a moment, at the top of the wall; one foot in the party, the other imminently in the outer gardens - and examined the scene.

The whole of Halamshiral spread out before him, the excitement, the romance, the buzz of the party, the ham that tasted of despair, the tittering gossip of the nobles, the rampant fireflies and the clink-clink-splash of caprice coins being thrown in the fountain - all accented by the intoxicating scent of jasmines and Andraste’s Grace - and he sighed, with great contentment.

Truly, really, it did not get any better than this.

He looked back down, at Fenris, who was already playing with the top buttons of his guardsman’s jacket, giving Hawke the most smoldering look he could manage.

Hawke grinned. Perhaps the night had great potential, indeed, for getting even better.

[postgameroutesix]

one of my fave details in the funky phantom is how its highlighted in the forests prime evil that its skip who believes in bigfoot + augie who thinks its a load of bullshit. then april is sorta implied in we saw a sea monster to believe in nessie by her reaction to the guy mentioning it. VERY underrated aspect of them imo april + skip are in canon cryptozoology truthers come the fuck onnnn thats so fun

[0versear]

.

[snailkeeper]

i want to make more content, i want to contribute to this fandom as often as i did before but i am just so so tired, im dealing with some ✨things✨ and i just have no ideas. my brain is absolutely empty. im sorry i love all of u very much still

[putadelilith]

white foxes by susanne sundfør goes harder and harder everytime i listen

[running-with-kn1ves]

What would happen if the reader were adopting this seemingly harmless kitten hybrid and they act like a cat hybrid enough, and do normal human-cat things for a while until they come into heat, or even before that, and things go from 0-100 real fast. Maybe this hybrid wants more from its owner to the point it becomes a yandere?

A/N: I legit got a similar request on Quotev, w/ someone asking for a body affirmation/self esteem cat-human hybrid fluff 😭 So.. as my duty to the people, I must clash the two and provide >:).

TW: Implied sexual relations 👀, possessive behaviors, (not smut) dubcon, cat/human hybrid, self esteem issues, just mostly all around fluff but there is a bit of self hatred

Female! Human-cat hybrid X GN! Reader

Things with your new... "pet," started off normal. Sure, it wasn't super common to have a human-cat-animorph thing as your roommate, but there were weirder things to come across. The cat girl who made herself comfortable in your house wasn't really a pet nor a rent-paying roomie.

In all honesty, she was more of a moocher. She mooched off your food, air conditioning, bed, and even your Netflix subscription! The gal didn't pay for anything-- even though by government standards she could technically obtain a job.

While you went out, slaving away at a poor excuse for a job, she stayed home, eating prime, high quality tuna, and sleeping on your comforter.

Often, you'd come home to see her snuggled up on the couch with a weighted blanket and remote in hand. The only thing you were paid back with was dead rodents.

When she wasn't perusing the internet or sleeping, she would go out into the yard, and look for bugs or small animals-- anything she could take on that you would certainly "find appealing." At least that's what she thought.

Even though time after time you told her that the dead possums and rabbits on your doorstep were NOT necessary and were GROSS, she didn't seem to get it. Or rather, care.

That's how it has been for the past 2 months. Quiet, coming home to a house with fur and dandruff everywhere, and a messy bed. It was certainly annoying, but not enough to make you kick her out; you couldn't do that no matter the person or animal! Persanimal, in this case.

Even though she was tiring to clean up after, you knew she did her best to provide you companionship. Finding her in that alleyway, drenched and skin and bone, was probably the best day of your life; she's been helping you through thick and thin, especially through the days where you contemplate murdering your boss and coworkers.

Life's been hard; but your cat-person is slowly making it more bearable. And it's not like she ever did harm or weird things-- at least that's what you thought until tonight.

"Come onnnn play with me!"

"Silva, no. I need to finish this before tomorrow morning-- if I don't, Gary'll have my head on a stick. Do you want my head on a stick? " You turn to look at her with raised eyebrows.

Silva pouts, scrunching her nose at you. "Oh boo! You'll be fine. And I'm not asking for all night-- unless that's what you want. " She looks at you suggestively, scanning your tired form up and down.

"As if." Pushing her head you force her to roll over, almost off of the bed. Silva makes a groan, a noise between human and animalistic.

"I'm bored! You're so annoying. I'm stuck in this house all day with nothing to do and you won't even pay attention to me. "

Silva pouts, her hands crossed against her chest. You could feel a tail flick against you, her feline ears slightly jutting out.

You sigh out of frustration, and at the fact that you wanted to give in. It was so straining to work-- it'd be nice to just lay down and sleep.

Rubbing your temples, you put down the papers in your hand for a moment.

"I'm sorry Silva, the whole team has been thrown for a loop," you look over at Silva; her ears showing that she was listening. "I'm on a really tight schedule; besides, I don't think I'm more fun compared to sleeping." You let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Silva jumps atop you, causing papers and files to fall onto your bedroom floor. The fluttering sound of all that hard work being smudged and tucked under the bed made your heart sink. The cat hybrid had you under her, your head falling snuggly onto the sheets. Silva sat on your waist, looking down at you with a mischievous grin.

"Silva!! What are you doing-- I need those files sorted by tonight! "

"No," she starts, an angry snarl showing off the rows of pointed teeth in her mouth. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of your work, and you being too busy to even notice me. It's my turn. "

Licking her lips, you felt and saw Silva bend down with ease, lack of grace following her nips and grazes.

Her long and jagged nails were gentle, poking and prodding at your flesh as she pleased, moving to grip the sides of your abdomen. Silva's lips trailed from your rib cage down. Her sharp canines lightly pressed against your skin, making you shiver. She trailed lower towards the beginning of your pajama bottoms.

Her furry ears tickled against your skin, making goosebumps rise. Silva pulled against the fabric, hugging your hips with her teeth, tugging it down with might.

Before she got the chance to move further, you pushed her away, bringing your legs up to your chest and hugging them.

Silva let out a surprised grunt, rolling to the side of the bed.

Digging under the covers you rolled onto your knees, hugging the sheets closer to you.

"Don't do that!" You yelled, your voice muffled against the mattress.

"Do what?" Silva says, her voice rising in pitch. You can tell she's even more annoyed than before, her nails digging into the bed, pulling the sheets away from you.

"Don't like-- touch me like that!" You tried to pull the bed sheets back. "Its not funny when you play games..."

"But I meant it," Silva tries to lift the sheets off your head to no avail. "I want to touch you. To be with you. You're never home! " Gaining enough strength, the animal hybrid manages to pull the sheets off that were hiding you away. She grips your hand, tugging you to face her.

"What is the real issue here?" Silva asks. Her voice was full of frustration. Huffing, you ignored her concerned glare, with shame.

"This..." you look down at your body, Silva's eyes following your own. "I'm not proud of it. So when you touch me like that.." You grip your shirt, palms growing sweaty. "I just don't want you to look at it and feel the way I feel. I don't want you to be... disappointed. " Looking down, you see the realization hit Silva through her body language. Her grip on your arm loosens, but not by much.

She let's out a soft "oh," her tail pausing its flicking.

"So let's just drop it, it's sleep time anyway," you say with feigned cheerfulness. "Okay?"

Silva still has a hard look on her face, full of confusion and a bit of annoyance as she lays down. You pick up the few papers scattered across the floor, leaving them on a desk nearby for you to deal with in the morning.

Exhaustion hit you like a brick; it was already so late in the night.

Turning off the light, you shuffled into bed, letting the warmth comfort you.

Though the night and Silva's body next to yours was calming, a lingering discomfort still hung in the air. You felt the conversation with Silva on the topic beforehand wasn't truly over.

The ticking of a clock outside of your room filled the awkward silence, letting it blend in.

Without discretion, Silva turns to face you, her expression still struck with some sort of hard misunderstanding.

You stare back at her, quiet but listening.

"I don't understand. I can act like I do, but I don't. You're telling me you don't like yourself? "

Shrugging, you avoid her gaze, feeling the shame bubble up inside you again.

"It's just-- I don't want you to not like what I look like.. I feel.. gross. I don't want you to see me that way. " You felt yourself shrivel up, body physically curling.

Silva didn't respond, instead deciding to use a method of attack. Ruffling under the bed sheets she tackled you, forcing you both underneath a mess of blankets. Through the darkness, you could make out the features of her face: and she did not look happy.

Her jaw was clenched, slit pupils turning into thin lines.

"That's such bullshit! Are you kidding me? Is this what you fill your head with every day?"

Her anger turned soft when she noticed your guilt ridden cringe.

"... really?"

You bite at the inside of your mouth, feeling tense at such a confrontation. You didn't think you'd ever have a conversation about self-esteem with Silva. She was already naturally so sure of herself; you didn't expect her to be the one calling you out.

Her fingers gripped your face quickly, the touch gone as soon as it came, being replaced by her mouth on top of yours. It was a quick kiss, but smooth and skillful. You broke away, looking up at Silva with bewilderment. She was certainly affectionate, but the moderate amount for a human animal hybrid. Kisses, were never given-- you had never even thought about such affections with her.

She was always just an annoying, loafing roommate cat person who stole your food. But now? Well, you couldn't deny how fast your heart was racing.

"Don't ever say that. Don't ever say something like that again. " She waved her finger in your face, perfectly manicured. Of course, she had time to do her nails while you were serving capitalist businessmen.

Focusing on small things other than her voice was better than actually processing the information and anger she had at you.

"Hey!" Silva's weight on top of yours was both comforting and suffocating, as panic rose inside of you. "Are you listening to me? Do I need to kiss you again to get your attention? "

Your head snapped at that. Embarrassed and feeling surreal, you shifted uncomfortably under Silva.

"Well at least that caught your eye," she said, stroking back a few pieces of your hair. "But I want you to promise me... you're not.. gross. I can't even think of it! Do you promise me? "

You mumble under your breath, looking away once again.

"Don't make me.." Silva muttered, inching dangerously close to your face. To avoid her assault once more, you shouted out.

"Okay, fine! I get your point.. I was just trying to help... I didn't want you to be let down. I didn't want you to be disappointed in what I really looked like... "

"Disappointed-- How the hell could I be disappointed? What you really look like? " She laughed, her body reverberating against you. You were almost in awe seeing her do so. She had never laughed-- at least not because of you, or something so silly as your lack of confidence. Sure, she'd burst out howling at the TV sometimes, but you had never seen her laugh like this. A real, living, breathless laugh.

You shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"Y/n, I could never be disappointed, never. After everything, " she leaned down to kiss you slowly, but you didn't pull away; it was chaste, almost the illusion of affection. "After all that you've done for me."

Silva's hands gripped your shoulder blades, her mouth lingering over your cheek. "Even if we were strangers. Even if you never found me, I'd find you." She leaned down, kissing your cheek and moving to your neck. You tangled your fingers in her dark hair, your hips instinctively moving up to push against hers.

"I can't believe you would ever think that I would be 'disappointed,'" she breathed hard, snickering against your skin.

Pulling down your collar, she kissed your upper chest, running a hand down up and down the side of your stomach.

"What was I supposed to think." You whined, annoyed at how she mocked you.

"Not that, idiot!" She flicked your forehead, her ears flattening slightly.

"Either way," licking her lips, Silva moves to look in your eyes. "I don't ever want to hear words like that come out of your mouth again. If you do, I might just have to punish you-- can't have you badmouthing my pet. Okay?" She said with a grin, peering down at you.

"Alright.." you said with a sigh, staring back at her.

"Good." She gave you a short kiss. "Now, will you play with me?"

Another suggestive face was thrown your way.

"Silva I have to work tomorrow. " You groaned, shifting underneath her. The excuse of having work was both true, and it helped disguise your embarrassment and fear. Doing such as she suggested, was something you had never even dreamed of doing with Silva.

"I won't take no for an answer!"

She smiles, positioning herself above you. Silva's palms are planted in yours, stretching out your right hand against the bed.

She kisses your lips, slowly trailing down to your chest, stomach, and lower abdomen. Pulling down slightly at the top of your pants, Silva looks up at you.

One of your hands is still nestled in her hair, petting her ears slightly.

"Now, let's play."

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clans part 9!@selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid @starsha-k-luna

Leonardo opened his eyes. He tried to move his arms, both feeling like lead and refused to listen to him. Only once his senses returned to him in full did he realize why his arms felt so heavy. He gave a low growl as he struggled against his binds, though after a few seconds realized it wasn’t worth it to waste his energy. Not when he was already so exposed to the elements. Looking around, he realized he was moving, being pulled along in a wagon down a bumpy, snowy road. He found his odachi not too far from him, but out of his hope of reach with his current predicament.

“Hey you!” The badger boy from before scrambled over to meet Leonardo, “You’re finally awake!”

Leonardo’s brain blanked for a moment. “Skyrim…?”

It didn't seem the badger heard him. “Usagi! He’s awake!”

The cart stopped moving. Usagi? The cart gave a dangerous groan as a new weight jumped up into it, a tall silhouette standing over Leonardo. At first, the figure seemed almost black against the brightness of the sun, but he soon leaned down close to Leonardo’s face to sniff at him.

“Hey, at least buy me a drink first!” Leonardo took the opportunity to finally get a good look at the yokai.

The rabbit was as pure as the snow around them, his eyes like rubies in the winter banks. His ears seemed like they wanted to sit naturally lopped, but were held erect by a blue ribbon at their base. The tips of the ears fell down to half the length of the rabbit's body and Leonardo couldn’t help but laugh at how outrageous it looked on the otherwise slender rabbit. Like the badger child, the rabbit had no definable hair on his head; none that was separated from long fur at least. The rabbit reached down with a massive paw, cupping Leonardo’s face to manipulate him like the turtle was a puppet. The fur of the rabbit was a soft tickle, his paw pads rough and claws well-kept and short. Overall, he looked more like a marshmallow than a threat.

“So, are you gonna tell me where we are, or are we gonna have a Romeo and Juliet moment?” Leonardo smirked, “And if so, can we do this whole thing without dying or is dying part of the package?”

“Who are you?” The rabbit yokai said, his serious voice betrayed by the cute twitching of his nose. “You’re obviously not from around here. No reptile in his right mind would be tromping those woods in this kind of weather. Last time I saw a reptile was almost a hundred miles south of here. So…” The rabbit traced a claw across Leonardo’s neck almost like the blade of a knife, “I can only assume you Are ninja...”

Leonardo bided his time to further look over the rabbit that was called Usagi. He wore robes that Leonardo had only ever seen on his father or in the old family pictures that Splinter hid in boxes under his bed; Leonardo wasn’t meant to look at them, but he often found himself pulling the pictures out and imagining what life might have been like if they had been alive to support Splinter through his mutation. The rabbit, though his fur was soft, had well-defined muscles in his arms and even more so in his legs. Across one of the rabbit’s ears was a sharp cut, not unlike the slash Splinter had, except the scar seemed to jump from his ear to his cheek, as if whatever had dealt the damage had hit both in the same blow.

Leonardo smiled. “Well, judging by the kimono and the way you wrap your ears, which I assume to be a homage to the traditional chomage, and the language barrier thing, I’m going to assume I’m somewhere in Japan. And those muscles and scars of yours tell me you’ve seen plenty of fights in your days, but with how silky smooth your fur is, you’ve definitely been living in comfort recently. And as for your mention of a reptile being this far north, I’m a mesotherm, so the cold never bothered me anyway~”

Usagi’s eyes just kept growing wider and wider with every word Leonardo said, nose scrunching up at the Frozen joke. That only made Leonardo more confident in his declaration.

“Judging by all of this, and those katana on your back, I’m going to guess you’re a samurai. Like. Me.”

Between blinks, Usagi had one of his katana free and was pressing the blade of Leonardo’s throat. Usagi leaned close to whisper

“I have never seen a samurai with a mask such as yours…”

Leonardo didn't move. “Then you clearly haven’t seen many samurai. My name is Leonardo, and I’m just really lost. I could use some help.”

Usagi considered Leonardo’s words. He removed the blade and replaced it in its sheath. “I am Usagi. I can take you as far as the next town but no further.”

Leonardo bowed his head gratefully. “That is all I ask.”

Usagi turned to jump out of the car.

“Actually…” Leonardo called after him, “I don’t suppose you could maybe, I dunno, untie me for the ride over.”

Usagi stopped mid-jump, giving the slightest tilt of his head so that Leonardo could see only one red eye. “You’re a very funny kappa.”

Leonardo lost track of how long they walked— or, in his case, was pulled. He knew they started in the day and walked long into the night and judging by the moon it had to be nearing midnight by the time Usagi finally pulled them off the road and into a field to rest. Usagi climbed into the wagon and pulled up a long, wooden pole on each of the four corners, unfolding a tarp to lay across the poles and act like a roof.

“Ah. Ye old caravan.” Leonardo laughed, “Fancy.”

Usagi offered Leonardo no interaction other than a judging side-eye.

“Why are you judging me? I’m right!”

Usagi continued his silent work. He pulled two boxes out from a storage under the wagon’s floor, opening one to reveal two pathetically small fish surrounded by half-melted ice and in the other an assortment of berries that looked well past their prime eat-by date. Usagi pulled one of the fish and tossed it to the badger cub, taking the remaining berries for himself. The rabbit sat lotus-style and the badger cub was quick to follow.

“Hey, you. Niño. I never got your name.” Leonardo called.

The cub was too lost in his frozen fish to hear or care.

“It’s Nuriyuki.” Usagi answered for the cub. “He’s not very social.”

Nuriyuki gulped down the rest of his fish, cleaning it down to the bone, then immediately started to whine. “Usagiiiiii. I’m still hungry! And I’m tired of fish!”

Usagi gave a soft sigh, pawing absently at his assorted dried berries. He reached into his pocket and produced a few loose coins, counting them under his breath. “I promise we’ll get you fresh meat when we get to town.”

“But I want it now!” Nuriyuki stomped his foot.

“You must be patient, Nuriyuki.” Usagi said.

“Uh. Am I gonna get fed too?” Leonardo asked, leaning forward.

Usagi popped a berry into his mouth and chewed slowly, savoring what remained of the juices. “I’ve heard that kappa can go months without eating. Surely you can last until the next town over.”

“But I’m staaaarving!” Leonardo whined even louder than Nuriyuki, “Can’t I just have a little bit of berries?”

Usagi kept eating.

“What about that other fish? I saw two fish! I’ll eat frozen fish, I’ll eat anything!”

Usagi kept eating. Leonardo could swear he was even smiling a bit.

“Come onnnn! This is a very cruel and unusual punishment!”

Usagi stopped eating, one of his ears perking to attention and twisting backward.

“Just get me something, anything! I’m desperate!”

“Shut up.” Usagi growled.

“I’ll give you a massage— I give great massages! I’ll tell you my best joke!”

Usagi gripped Leonardo’s shoulders roughly and shushed him. “Be quiet! I hear something…”

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕟𝕔𝕥'𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕧𝕚𝕓𝕖𝕤 ✰.｡.✵°✵

     Please don’t get your feelings hurt, because I’m just doing it for fun. This is entirely subjective and is only my opinion, clearly. Remember, it’s not that serious. 

m.list

Best

Taeil

Johnny

Renjun

Yuta

Jaehyun

WinWin

Mark

Chenle

Ten

Haechan

Doyoung

Kun

Jaemin

Jeno

Lucas

YangYang

Xiao Jun

Jisung

Taeyong

Hendery

Jungwoo

Worst

     I don’t know what it about Taeil that just screams that he would be the best boyfriend. Oh, wait, yeah I do: he’s so mature, caring, level-headed, loving, and every other admirable trait. Taeil would always be so patient and understanding; he’d think of you first every time. He won’t forget any important dates. Overall, this man is just made to be the best boyfriend. Not just the best boyfriend, but the best husband. This guy right here is prime husband material. 

     Johnny would be such a fun boyfriend. He’s the king of spontaneous dates and late-night adventures. He is the perfect pillow. All his comfy shirts and hoodies are up for grabs because he’ll love seeing you in them. Johnny is mature like Taeil, so he will likely handle any argument calmly. He won’t let his pride get in the way. The boyfriend vibes are strong with this one, I tell you. 

     I bet you’re a little surprised to see Renjun so high up, but hear me out. Of the Dreamies, he is the most mature. He’s (usually) the least chaotic and whiny one. Renjun will be very patient with you, understanding and forgiving of your mistakes, as well as honest with you. That is probably his best good-boyfriend-vibes approved trait. No matter what, he’s not going to lie to you. Renjun is a solid ground that is the perfect significant other to stand on. 

     This one can be cocky and sometimes irritatingly so. His teasing gets out of hand at times, but none of his faults compare to the golden heart Yuta has. Underneath his facade, he’s the most loyal, loving guy you will ever meet. He will defend you to no end. He will do anything to make you happy. Yuta will put his ego aside to be there for you and cheer you up. 

     Literally his outfits alone pushed him up a few spots on the list; Jaehyun’s wardrobe gives off very strong boyfriend vibes. All those nice, warm hoodies and sweatpants you’re definitely going to steal. He loves listening to music at night in his room, especially slow songs like the ones by Cigarettes After Sex, which is a vibe on its own. The way he’ll look at you like you are the only person in the world, with his adorable smile. Come onnnn. I don’t think I need to explain any further. 

     The only thing that kept WinWin from being placed higher is the fact that I see him as someone who needs quite a bit of space. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, and maybe some of you would like him more for it. After all, this entire thing really is subjective. WinWin is sweet and mature and will help you through anything. He’s not going anywhere, my friend. 

     Mark will love you like you make the world go round. His feelings for you will be so holistic and sincere. I don’t think he’s someone to get very angry, so I don’t imagine arguments will be a common or an intense thing. He’ll play his ukulele and sing to you. He’ll love to play with your hair and try to braid it, though he never has any idea what he’s doing.

     Here we have another sweetheart with a giant ass heart. Chenle likes you without any catch. His affection for you isn’t conditional or fleeting. He’ll always be so kind to you and treat you as well as you deserve. He will think you are the most adorable person in the universe. Every time there is a holiday or anniversary, he’ll try so hard to give you the perfect, most sentimental gift. You’re lucky to have him. 

     Ten has no problem being himself. Lying or communication won’t be a problem for him. You’ll always know what he’s thinking or feeling, which keeps the petty disagreements to an absolute minimum. With Ten, there’s no facade or egotistical barrier. You get what you see. He’s one of the most authentic guys in all of NCT. 

     Honestly, I put Haechan further down when I started. He seems immature, impatient, and a little annoying (sometimes; I’m sorry). Just as Yuta can seem cocky, Haechan can seem like a brat. Here’s the thing, though: he is not. I believe Haechan will be patient with his significant other. I bet he handles most conflicts reasonably or quickly apologizes if he doesn’t. Sometimes, people surprise you. He will surprise most people with his stability and tender resolve.

     He’s adorable, smiles like a cute rabbit, and is a big softie. He is in it for the long-run. Despite that, I have got a few things I think need to be said. To me, it seems like Doyoung is a person who gets irritated easily. He might not be the most open about his feelings all the time, and may let some small things get to him. At the end of the day, though, I don’t imagine he will let anything get in the way of your relationship.

     Like Renjun, he is incredibly stable. He’s emotionally mature and patient. Kun knows how to treat his significant other. Through and through, he is a giver. He’s constantly trying to do everything for you; Kun has a habit of putting you about himself. To an extent, that is extremely admirable and endearing, but at some point, it will become frustrating. You won’t know how to get him to treat himself right. After a while you will start to feel guilty about it. 

     I feel bad, because we’re reaching the point in the ranking where I need to be mean. Jaemin seems like someone who will get jealous. Someone who can be excessively clingy. Clingy is not necessarily a bad thing, but for me it’s a little off-putting. The way he talks about you like you’re the greatest person ever to exist and everything else he does right more than outweighs most of his faults. It’s the jealousy that will be his biggest offense. 

     Jeno has a big heart and he’ll love and support you with everything he has while you’re together. That being said, I don’t know if he’s the most mature guy. Not in the sense he’ll be very jealous or petty, but more in the way that he’s not looking for a long-term relationship. He’s young, so he will probably be looking for someone to have fun with for a time. I don’t think Jeno is going to be in it for the long-run, which is subjectively not a bad thing. 

     For his placing, I’m sure everyone is going to want to fight me. I know Lucas is infinitely attractive and charming. His clothes are superb for snatching. I don’t think he has one specific fault that’s a deal-breaker. There are just some small things. He’ll be a little too jealous sometimes, a little too impatient, a little too cocky or teasing, and just slightly a little bit too immature. For the right person, he’ll be perfect and none of these individual issues will matter too much. 

     YangYang is someone I don’t know that well yet, so keep that in mind. I get the vibe that he is an awesome person to know really well and to have close to you, but it will be so hard for you to get into his circle. Until you break down every wall, his boyfriend vibes (lol) will not be the best. If you manage to get past all his defenses, though, you’re in for a treat. 

     This is unfair. I’m sorry, Xiao Jun. He seems like the kind of man who is married to his career. His name literally means “independent.” If he ended up with a serious significant other, I bet he would make a great boyfriend. I just do not think it’s something he is seeking out. He is committed to making music and improving himself, so there isn’t much room left for you. 

     It’s because he is so young that I do not see Jisung and feel strong boyfriend energy. I cannot see him that way. He’s just a sweet little boy trying to pursue his talent and simultaneously find his way in the world. 

     Say it with me, kids: “Subjective.” There’s nothing wrong with Taeyong, but he simply does not have that ultimate vibe hinting that he be the best boyfriend. I don’t have any particular reason why; I simply do not get those vibes from him. 

     Hendery lacks spontaneity. He’s patient and kind and everything else that the boys above him are, but I believe he is too tame. I cannot imagine him being up for a random exploration or anything moderately risky. That’s a very sensible trait on his part, but I think there’s something to be said about how adventure and fun keeps a relationship fresh and exciting over time. 

     I’m just mean. Jungwoo is undeserving of such treatment, but someone has to be put at the bottom. Since I make the rules, today it will be him. He is a total sweetheart, but there’s something about him that seems so child-like. He’s not immature in a way that allows excessive jealousy or argumentation. Jungwoo is just . . . so innocent, so wholesome. That’s incredibly lovable to many, but for me, it just misses the mark. Please don’t attack me.

[bowansparrow]

The Fever King - Victoria Lee

*Major spoilers are in this review*

Favorite Quote

“Dara, who claimed he hated everything but secretly dreamed of counting the stars.”

Plot

In summary, the Fever King is a futuristic fantasy set in primarily a place called Carolinia that is trying to rid the land of refugees from Atlantia. I’ve seen a couple comments that I wholeheartedly agree with, in that the timing of the release of this book is very apt considering the US’s own stance on refugees, but that’s besides the point (well, it’s a major point and discussion of racism and xenophobia in the book from the point of view of a Jewish Latinix character, but in terms of talking literally about the current immigration conflicts).

However, one thing I really enjoyed and thought was really cool was how magic was introduced in the book. When we get deeper into the learning facility, it’s cool and powerful, but initially and as we’re reminded throughout the book, magic is ultimately a virus. It’s bloody, gruesome, and violent, and leaves hardly anyone it comes in contact with alive— yet some people deliberately expose others to the virus in the slim hopes that it might keep them alive and make them witchings, or magic users.

Also, the fact that it was totally normal for people to be different sexualities was very nice. The main character outright stated he was bisexual without it coming across as clumsy writing, and others’ sexualities were also mentioned, but it never seemed too heavy handed, a quality that I have seen before in other books.

Characters

I’ll admit, while I loved a lot of the characters in the book, I almost wanted to see more out of the ones we didn’t see, especially Taye. I felt he was largely disregarded, as well as Bethany too— Ames was talked about a little more, but for the most part, the story pretty much only revolved around Noam, Dara, and Lehrer. Which, don’t get me wrong, that’s definitely not a bad quality! But I felt like, especially since they were all living together, the other three could have been talked about a bit more.

That being said, it wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting it because Lehrer was too perfect, but I really wanted Lehrer to not turn out As terrible as he ended up being. I’m fine with him being terrible, but also, come onnnn just a little bit less. I think I’m mainly projecting because his past reminds me a lot of one of my own characters (Xeredahl, for my own reference, just in case I forget later) but I digress. Also, as gruesome as it might sound, the idea of the metal muzzle?? Amazing details on that, perfectly horrible and terrible to read, I loved it.

Writing style

Very pleasant and easy to get through. I don’t know if there was anything particularly dry or prosaic about it— Lee does a good job of description and tying in interesting things into the narrative. I thought having the video transcripts and different scenes of history in between chapters was incredibly smart and gave so much merit to the world. I wanted to know more and more about Lehrer and his past, especially because we got bits and pieces of it so slowly, and we still don’t know everything.

Criticisms

> As stated before, Lehrer, I felt, was just a little too perfect. It primed me from the beginning that I was eventually going to realize he was terrible, but that just might be me being a writer and avid reader so I know some of the tells

> Maybe not so much a criticism, but I never really felt that Noam was ever sixteen. He was irrational at times, but for the most part it seemed like he was much older. I felt the narrative, and even the book as a whole, was not necessarily young adult but fit more into the new adult category

> Wanted more from the other background characters

> Maybe as a result of Lehrer’s manipulation, Noam felt just a little flat and overall same-tone through most of the book. I think I was the most intrigued and “in his head” so to speak during the ending scenes, starting from just before he kills Brennan to when Lehrer tells him to forget.

Recommendation Rating

9/10

[nitewrighter]

👏Bob👏Yatta👏Fanfiction👏continuation👏PleASe👏

Zen and the Art of Hovercycle Maintenance, Part 3

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

—-

Ashe was sitting across from him, hat off, her white hair taking on a slight yellowish tint in the glaring light of the workroom. She looked smaller with the hat off, but sharper somehow, like a blade unsheathed. She sat across from him, leaned back in her seat slowly turning one of Zen’s orbs of destruction over in her hand. Bars and Bob loomed in the corner, and Zenyatta heard a sneeze to his left, moved to turn his head, but found he couldn’t. All motor functions shut down again, he thought.

“Way to ruin the moment, idiot,” muttered a voice to Zen’s right.

“Wasn’t my fault!” said the source of the sneeze.

“Both of you shut up–” said a voice behind Zen.

“Boys,” Ashe spoke simply and the three voices flanking Zen instantly silenced.

“Sorry boss,” they all spoke in unison. Ashe gave a nod of acknowledgement before fixing her red eyes on Zenyatta.

“Care telling me what you’re doing working with Jesse McCree?” She

“Can I ask what will happen if I don’t tell you?” asked Zenyatta.

“You can,” said Ashe, “You ain’t gonna like it.”

Stall, thought Zenyatta, You know McCree and the others are looking for you. Just stall.

“What will happen?” asked Zenyatta.

“We still find out,” said Bars, “We shut you down, dismantle your head, sort through your visual data from the past 36 hours a handful of terabytes at a time. We put everything back, put you back together, and wake you back up, of course, but everyone says it feels like everything in their head’s been moved an inch to the left.”

“You would do that to another Omnic?” said Zenyatta.

“I’ve done it to other Omnics,” said Bars, leaning in.

Zenyatta studied Bars’ face for a moment, “…one of those eyes isn’t yours, is it?” said Zenyatta.

“It’s mine now,” said Bars with a shrug. Horror flickered across the lights in Zenyatta’s forehead and Bars just stood up to his full height, “It’s all parts, Zen. That’s all it is.”

“How can you just…” Zenyatta trailed off.

“How many Null Sector units you see roving around here?” said Bars, folding his arms.

“…none?” said Zenyatta, “But they only target population centers–”

“You know how much prime solar power real estate is in these deserts? Enough to make a new Omnium,” said Bars, stepping forward, “But because there’re no population centers, you don’t see the US government giving a shit about it.”

“I told you,” said Ashe, leaning forward, “I’m the law around here.”

“You are a weapons trafficker, a bully, and a thief,” said Zenyatta.

Bob suddenly loomed forward, insulted on Ashe’s behalf, but Ashe held up a hand and Bob stilled. He signed something furiously but Ashe only gave him a short glance before saying, “It’s fine, Bob,” before turning back to Zen. “And you’re claiming moral high ground on account of, what, working with Jesse McCree? You come into my territory blowing shit up and you want to act like you didn’t throw a rock at a hornets nest?” said Ashe.

“Whatever personal issues you have with McCree–” Zenyatta started.

“Don’t,” said Ashe, “Tell me what you and McCree were doing out here.”

Bars was already looking over a tray laden with screwdrivers of various sizes. He turned on an acetylene torch to make sure it worked.

“Jesse McCree is with Overwatch,” said Zenyatta, and then he added, “I–I am with Overwatch. The new Overwatch.”

It felt strange saying it without Genji around. He and Genji had decided that Overwatch was the best means to stop the rising conflicts between human and Omnic in the world, but without Genji there, any connection Zenyatta felt to Overwatch was tenuous at best. Zenyatta had always felt like the one guiding Genji, but now, alone in a grubby little garage in the middle of nowhere on Route 66, Zenyatta felt like he had just wandered after Genji into this whole mess.

“Go on,” said Ashe as Bars examined a screwdriver.

“We were stopping a shipment of explosives,” Zenyatta spoke quickly, “Not yours. They were from Talon. The plan was to safely drop them off with the authorities at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, when we were intercepted by the Sidewinders. There was a… miscommunication, on my team’s end, and rather than let the explosives fall into the wrong hands, we detonated them. I was separated from my team in the blast.”

“…you were caught in an explosion… because of a miscommunication…” Ashe repeated slowly.

I was caught in an explosion because I was put on a team with someone who doesn’t care if omnics live or die, thought Zenyatta before answering, “Yes. A miscommunication.”

“Well if McCree was on that mission, that doesn’t surprise me. Shit seems to have a magnetic attraction to fans when he’s around. Let me guess: McCree’s here because he’s ‘an expert on the area,’” said Ashe.

“You need to put me on this mission. I’m an expert on the area,” Zenyatta could clearly hear McCree’s voice in his memory.

“…yes,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe huffed incredulously. “I’d call him a son of a bitch but truth be told I have nothing but respect for any woman who spent that many years looking after his sorry ass without strangling him,” she stood up from her chair, now tossing the orb of destruction up and down in her hand and walking thoughtfully around the room, “That was the only reason you were here?” she said, looking back at Zenyatta, “Overwatch has no intention on stepping in on any of Deadlock’s operations?”

“Deadlock… isn’t as high a priority as Talon or Null Sector,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe chuckled and the triplets behind Zenyatta forced nervous laugh along with her. “’Not a high priority,’ he says,” said Ashe, “Oh, but once you take care of Null Sector and Talon, then petty criminals like us should be quaking in our boots,” she walked over to a worktable where her black hat was resting and fitted it back on, adjusting it in her reflection in the glass of a cracked analog television tucked in the corner, “Is that what you’re gonna do after you save the world? Do what the old Overwatch did after the Crisis and just start policing the world over again?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Zenyatta. He certainly didn’t see himself being an enforcer like that.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Ashe, looking at him with something almost like pity, “So… how is the fight going?”

“Excuse me?” said Zenyatta.

“The fight. The big damn heroic-ass fight,” said Ashe, “How’s it going?”

“I… would not be able to tell you,” said Zenyatta.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” said Ashe, “But what do you think of it? Is it getting any easier? You got ‘em on the ropes?”

Zenyatta was silent at this.

“Figured,” She gave a glance to the orb in her hand, “You don’t exactly strike me as the mercenary type… what are you doing with them?”

“I heal and advise,” said Zenyatta. How often do they listen though? a bitter voice in his head spoke up, made sharper by his own sense of helplessness and isolation, Winston, Jack, and Ana listen to Doctor Ziegler before they listen to me because they actually worked with her. Lúcio is friendly, but his focus is largely on Vishkar. Genji listens, but he tends to keep out of the larger-scale strategizing anyway, so I can hardly expect him to advocate for me if he’s not advocating to begin with. Tracer listens, if only because she respected Mondatta.

That last thought stung and if Zen could have shaken his head to stop the train of thoughts, he would.

“You advise,” said Ashe, arching an eyebrow, “But you don’t know how the fight is going?”

“I don’t… advise tactically…” said Zenyatta, hesitantly, before attempting to assert himself as best he could while being completely immobilized. No, he wasn’t going to let himself get discouraged here. “Overwatch is a peacekeeping organization. If there is going to be peace, it requires guidance from activists like myself.”

“I thought you looked Shambali,” said Ashe, tilting her head, “So a cozy little alliance there, huh?”

“I… am no longer Shambali,” Zenyatta said a bit stiffly.

Ashe perked up a bit at this. That look of not-quite-pity seemed to shift into genuine concern. “Seriously?” she said.

“I was Shambali, but then the Shambali became overly concerned with dogmatism and overshadowed by their own fame, I believed the path to changing the world was in individual connections.”

Bob’s shoulders softened a bit at this but Bars made another exaggerated motion of his head to indicate eye-rolling.

“…So I set out on my own path,” said Zenyatta.

“And that lead you to Overwatch?” said Ashe, tilting her head.

Genji lead me to Overwatch, thought Zenyatta, but he managed a, “Yes.”

Ashe huffed a little before plopping back down in her seat.

“Bob,” she said, not even looking over her shoulder at the massive omnic butler, “Get my usual and get him some Glenwales.”

Bob perked up and quickly headed out of the room.

“I don’t want Glenwales–” Zenyatta started.

“Yes you do,” said Ashe. There wasn’t a playful ‘Come onnnn live a little!’ lilt in her voice, but rather a flat factuality.

“You threaten to take my head apart, and you think some oil is going to establish trust?” said Zenyatta.

“You talk about trust, but I wasn’t the one who started off this whole thing claimin’ to be an artist,” Ashe scoffed, “The sad part was I really wanted to believe that. We would have sent a tail after you when we let you go, I mean I’m not stupid, but I did want to believe it. But no, this isn’t about trust, Zen. This is about hospitality, and god knows you could use some.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bars. “Bars? Restore the motor functions of his head, neck, and left arm.”

“You sure, boss?” said Bars.

“Well I ain’t pourin’ that oil down his gullet, do you want to?” said Ashe, “It’s five on one and he’s not an idiot. Just lost. Like anyone.”

“I am not lost,” said Zenyatta, adjusting himself in his seat as he felt something pinch in his neck and felt the ability to move flood back into his arm.

Bob came back with an oddly fancy silver tray and two bottles and two glasses set upon it. One was an already-half-empty crystal decanter, the other was a commercial bottle of Glenwales, not even opened. 

“Sure you are,” said Ashe, filling her own glass with the whiskey, “You’re working with Jesse McCree, ain’t you?”

“Overwatch as an organization is far more effective than you give it credit for,” said Zenyatta. 

“I’m sure,” said Ashe with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s a hodgepodge, but the firepower you’ve got is nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“You’re more lost than me,” said Zenyatta, “You are plagued by doubt and resentment, your vision is clouded by anger, and you are ultimately chained down by your past.” His words would have far more effect with an orb of discord, but if it had managed to stop Genji in his tracks a few years ago, he saw no reason why it wouldn’t work on Ashe. But Ashe just kept that expression at him as Bob poured Zenyatta a glass of Glenwales and offered it to him. Bob looked questioningly to Ashe as well with Zenyatta’s words but Ashe seemed unshaken.

“Uh huh,” said Ashe, sipping her whiskey, “I know all that. And you’re in Overwatch because…”

“Because I must help,” said Zenyatta.

“Just not tactically,” said Ashe, swirling her whiskey in its glass, “And martially you can probably hold your own, but you’re not exactly a soldier. Or a doctor. And arguably you could advocate but as you said, you’re exactly Shambali, either.”

Despite finally having partial movement, Zenyatta stiffened in his seat.

“Lost recognizes lost,” said Ashe, “Which I guess brings me to the rub of the whole situation, which is, what do you think Overwatch would give to have you back?”

Zenyatta suddenly felt very hollow. Overwatch’s resources were stretched phyllo-thin as it was. He knew as a medic he was invaluable, but whether Overwatch had anything to offer or would even negotiate such a matter…

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zenyatta, “McCree was easily able to defeat you before–”

“Yeah. Fresh after a heist when everyone was exposed and exhausted and he was pulling the puppet strings on the situation just so he could get his glowy blue sex doll back. This situation calls for your team storming our turf–which, I promise you, will end up much worse if it really comes to that, which it doesn’t have to. I don’t have the time to bother with a hostage. Your team wants you back. We can take care of this like adults.” She motioned with her own glass to the bottle of Glenwales, “And we’ll see you’re well-taken care of in the meantime.” Zenyatta noted the virtually unchanged level of whiskey in her own glass and the still-sharp look in her eye as she set her own glass down. No, she wouldn’t get his guard down that easily.

“How kind of you,” Zenyatta’s voice was bitter and dry.

“Aw, thank you!” Ashe put a hand over her heart, “People tell me I’m too nice all the time.”

“They do?” said one of the triplets, before he got swatted upside the head by one of his brothers.

“Bars?” said Ashe, putting her hands on her hips, “Think you can figure out whatever comm network our guest is linked up to?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Bars, rolling his shoulders.

“Good. I want an accessible channel with it by the time I get back. You three,” Ashe motioned to the triplets, “With me. We’re riding. Making sure there’s none of those Sidewinder clowns in our territory in the meantime.”

“You got it, boss!” the triplets said in unison.

“Bob?” Ashe put a hand on the massive omnic’s shoulder, “I am leaving the comfort of our dear guest in your very capable hands… Also rip his head off if he tries escapin’.”

Bob gave a slight bow to Ashe as she walked out of the room, the Deadlock triplets trailing behind her in a line. They all headed out the door but Ashe paused in the doorway, “I mean, we can put it back, of course–”

“…Of course,” said Zenyatta, dryly.

Ashe made a finger gun at him, “Sit tight!” she said, before slipping away from the doorway.

About a minute of pure silence and stillness passed, punctuated only by the sound of Bars’ tools clinking as he sifted through them and then the hum of hovercycles in the distance. Zenyatta slumped a little in his seat, and then noticed Bob was pushing a glass of Glenwales in his direction.

“…I don’t want any,” said Zenyatta.

“Do you have tac-mods?” said Bars.

“Pardon?” said Zenyatta.

“Tactile modifications? You know, ‘Oh wow, organic partner, you touching me feels so good, and this is very genuine because I physically altered myself so we would both feel better about your dumb meatsack body rubbing on my chassis.’”

“…I… have.. some,” said Zenyatta.

“Where?” said Bars.

“That’s rude,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m asking you so I don’t hurt you,” said Bars.

“…Chest, forehead, and hands,” said Zenyatta.

“Really?” said Bars, “No…?” he gestured at his pelvic region.

“I…. considered them, but decided I wouldn’t get them until I found the right partner,” said Zenyatta.

“Ooh la-la,” said Bars, picking up a screwdriver, “Got a real romantic on our hands.”

“I’m a monk,” said Zenyatta.

“You’re not Shambali,” said Bars, stepping alongside Zenyatta and setting a screwdriver against one of the bolts securing the small flattened cylinder on the left side of his jaw. A few loosened screws the upper half of it came off easily. Zen didn’t feel a thing. He did feel a wire being stuck into one of the manual ports and then glanced off to the side to see Bars holding a tablet and tapping a few things into it. Zenyatta heard a high pitched noise buzz through his head for a few seconds before Bars extracted the wire.

“Got what I need,” said Bars, walking out of the room, “All you, Bob.”

Bob nodded as he headed off and the door closed behind him. Bob took a seat in the metal folding chair Ashe had been sitting in. It creaked and whined beneath his weight. Bob sat primly, one leg folded over the other, fingers interlaced on his knee like an old-fashioned gentleman in a victorian clothing catalogue. 

He signed something at Zenyatta.

“…I don’t understand,” said Zenyatta.

Bob perked up, slightly alarmed, held up a finger again in a “Wait,” gesture, then stood up, stepped over to a work table and rifled through it briefly before pulling out a data drive. He pulled a small handkerchief from the interior of his vest and wiped the data drive down, looked it over, seemed pleased with it, then stepped in front of Zenyatta once more.

He held up the data drive to Zenyatta.

“What?” said Zenyatta.

Bob gestured to the side of his own head, then pointed at the exposed port on the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.

Zenyatta flinched back slightly and Bob made a slightly flailing, “it’s okay!” gesture, before taking a phone out from the interior of his vest. He slowly and clumsily tapped something out on the phone and then held the screen up for Zenyatta to read.

It’s safe.

I promise.

“I would like to trust you,” said Zenyatta, “But… given the circumstances…”

Bob withdrew the phone, rapidly tapped the screen indicating him deleting a word, then tapped something out again and held the phone up once more.

“I PROMISE” was in all caps now and Bob held up the data drive.

Zenyatta paused, studying Bob’s face, then gingerly took the data drive from Bob and inserted it into the exposed port in the side of his jaw. His train of thought slowed as it always did when he was downloading a large amount of data and Bob started signing.

“I don’t understand what you’re–” Zenyatta started, but then he did.

“—doesn’t cover all the signs, people are always making new ones, of course,” Bob was signing, “But you should be able to fill in the gaps–Do you understand me?”

Zenyatta sat there, stunned.

“Do you understand me?” Bob signed again.

Zenyatta brought up his one functioning hand and slowly signed, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes brightened. “Oh! I’m so glad! You don’t have to sign everything. You can just talk. It’s fine.”

“…why don’t you talk?” said Zenyatta.

“I tried a couple different voice boxes, Ashe and Bars still bring me some, sometimes,” Bob signed, “None of them sounded right. None of them sounded like me. This,” he signed, “Feels like me.”

“But you were made without a voice box?” said Zenyatta.

“Technically I’m just a slightly more advanced labor unit,” Bob signed, “I was never designed with one. I learned ASL because deafness is congenital in Miss Ashe’s family.”

“…explains why she’s so good at yelling,” Zenyatta said a bit dryly.

“It’s not my place to apologize on her behalf,” signed Bob, “But it does touch on a very sore spot that you’re involved with Jesse McCree and that you lied about it—”

“Because she’s the most dangerous woman in the southwest,” said Zenyatta.

“Dangerous things tend to be so to survive,” Bob signed. He paused for a bit and Zenyatta was silent as well.

“You spoke more than I thought you would,” Bob signed after a while.

“Oh–I did?” said Zenyatta.

“I was worried Bars would take your head apart–” Bob signed, “I mean the procedure is perfectly safe, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant but… you shared a lot…”

“…I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that many questions–me as in… me,” said Zenyatta, “Not what I thought so they could help themselves best—” He caught himself and then glanced back at Bob, who was still listening perfectly patiently, “I’m rambling. They’re a good team,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” Bob signed.

“They are,” said Zenyatta.

“I never said they weren’t,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta just slumped back in his seat a bit.

“I do wish we had met under better circumstances,” Bob signed, glancing off at the orb of destruction Ashe had left on the workbench, “But Miss Ashe doesn’t believe in keeping families apart. As harsh as she can be, she does want to see you back home.”

“I carry the Iris with me,” said Zenyatta, glancing off, “Home is wherever I can bring human and omnic together in harmony.”

Bob paused at this. “So home is with you,” Bob signed, “It’s not… technically… with them.”

“No–” said Zenyatta, “Well-Yes–I mean…” Zenyatta made a sighing sound. Not having any lungs, the sound itself didn’t have any physical purpose aside from giving him a few seconds to think, “Is this place home to you?” said Zenyatta.

“It is. I rather like being a dastardly rogue,” Bob signed, “It’s quite thrilling.”

Zenyatta chuckled a little at the sign for ‘Dastardly.’

“And Miss Ashe is my family,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta reared back slightly in his seat at this.

“She can surprise you,” Bob signed. He daintily extended a finger and pushed the little glass of Glenwales across the silver tray towards Zenyatta with his pinky.  “Lots of things about this place can.” 

Zenyatta gave a long look to the glass, then took it and gulped it down. Well, if he was going to be here for a while…

[paragonrobits]

Can you write a drabble of Star Butterfly meeting Optimus Prime?

Sure thing!

I read more’d it because it wound up longer than the four or five paragraphs i intended to do~

Star walked in an easy way, humming gently in a sing-song tunethat was almost catchy but just far enough on the side of 'what theheck is that' to put the tone of discordance into her music, justenough for other things that might have been listening to be put off.It was a free kind of sound, an echo of the wildness in her heart,and a few birds flew by, lured by her presence. They probably shouldhave taken note of the grass growing around her into bizarre colorsthat the human eye wasn't capable of perceiving, or of statues shemoved past blinking and getting off their pedestals to lodgecomplaints with the city over their poor upkeep.

Magic was a little bit alive; a little bit feral. Itpiled up and leaked out and flooded into everything, finding a homein any kind of shaped form or concept expressed on this materialplane, and Star exuded it like a thundercloud raining down on a dryplain. Apart from the noise and general chaos in her wake, sheresembled a storm cloud in several other respects.

Normally she might at least acknowledgethe weirdness springing up in her wake – if only to encourage it,since she took the view that Earth was a pretty boring place most ofthe time and good use some enthusiasm – but her attention wasfocused on a large truck idling against the street, slowly rollingafter her with the grace of a king.

No, she supposed, glancing back at itwas an awkward shyness that might have surprised her closer friends.Not like a king. She knew kings; her dad, for one, the innumerablemonarchs of the magical realms, a few Earthly monarchs she'd hoppedinto the lands of the dead to bother when no one else was around toplay with. She tended to find a lot of them to not exactly beterribly pleasant folks.

Whereas the semi truck, amonstrously big vehicle all painted in vibrant reds and blues andexuding so much majesty that it was pretty much what you'd get if youharnessed the power of a gorilla into a vehicle, had a quiet dignityand solemn air to it that reminded her of, of prophets. Youcould definitely see this truck wheeling up a mountain, listening toWhoever spoke up there, and coming back down to tell the people whatit had seen.

This was a truck that spoke with thelaws of the heavens. Star had seen it years ago, back when she'dfirst come to Earth; just a brief passing glance during a short tripto Nevada to see what the fuss was about with the mountains there.There had been other vehicles there too; a pair of motorcycles –one blue and ready to tear up the road, the other a serious policemotorbike – a dour ambulance that just looked plain grumpy, abattered DeLorean with a few parts missing or blown off, a big pinksemi truck just as big as the red one, and skulking in the shadowshad been an RV as big and brooding as a tyrannosaurus, and they allhad one thing in common.

All things were a little bitalive, as she understood it. Magic made things alive sometimes but itdidn't have to. The more complex thingswere, the more alive they became. Life was a funny thing; it poppedup everywhere. And in this universe, the one Marco and his planetexisted in, it liked to take shape in metal and plastic, steel andtin. Machines could live, every bit as flesh and energy did. Andthose vehicles, seemingly ordinary and old and battered by too muchharshness, they shone like lightning bolts to her senses.

She remembered the truck lookingright at her – and she didn't know how it could do that withnothing to actually see with but it did that anyway - and sheremembered stories that had been old when her kingdom was barely new;tales of this universe, of ancient heroes and wars for the right tobe what you wanted to be; of prophets that battled tyrants, andcalled monsters their brother. And she had seen the symbol upon thattruck's grill – on all the vehicles there, in fact – and it was asymbol she had seen in old books; a sign of divinity,freedom and the right to choosewho and what you were.

And it had taken her years towork up the courage to come back here, leaving behind little magicalsigns she was sure the truck would follow up on, and here it, here hewas, and now she had no ideawhat she was gonna do.

'Honestly, I didn't think I'd get this far,' sheconsidered, and came to a stop as they found a relatively quietlocation. The truck stopped as well, turning the corner and its hugewheels slowly grinding to a stop. She could nearly hear gearsshifting laboriously. Age wafted from it, him, like cold steam office. There were mountains thatseemed younger than this entity, and that was a big deal forsomething that was genuinely alive.

“I think it's okay for you to, uh,show yourself?” She rocked back and forth, humming again out of avague desire to hear more noise.

The truck beeped, almost honkingbut gently so. It was barely a noise, almost a modulated whistle fromthe horn. A voice issued from it, deep and soft, withan accent she couldn't quite place but figured was probably somethinglike Space Texas. “I am myself,little one,” he said gravely. “In this shape, or any other.”

She tilted her head. “Huh?”

Various sections of the truck shifted,very gently. It reminded her of someone getting up and stretching abit. “This shape is me. Where I to stand up, it would be just asmuch me as I am now.” A slight pause. “With greater chance ofattracting attention. You wouldn't want the people here to have theirday disrupted, would you?”

Star considered this weightily. Shehadn't thought about it much. In her opinion anyone's day could use agood dose of disruption; a bit of chaos was good for the thinkingbrain-meats! She found the idea of protracted calm to be vaguelyoffensive, but it was very difficult to argue with that voice. Subtleharmonics had a teacher quality to it; there was no disapproval in itbut there was, so to speak, a hint that disapproval could be adefinite option if you didn't watch it, Young Lady.

Normally paternal orauthoritative disapproval had about as much the same effect on her asa chocolate hammer trying to smack a furnace, but the idea of OptimusPrime being disappointed at hersuddenly made her brain sink right out of her head, down into herstomach and marinated in guilt juices before zipped right back andinsisting that she watch herself, you FOOL.

(None of that, incidentally, was reallya metaphor. Being a quasi-dimensional being has its odder traits whenit comes to consistent anatomical details, and its a lot weirderstill when you were as soaked full of raw magical potential as Starwas.)

She saluted. “Yes sir! Optimus! Sir!”

“Please don't,” he asked gently.“You're not one of my Autobots; you have no obligation to addressme as a superior.” A brief pause, and he added, “Your highness.”

If Star had more than a cursoryinterest in etiquette and the very subtle ways that inflections alonecould be used more efficiently than a sword, she might have realizedthat he'd turned the tables on her, one upping her in the game ofcomplicated titles. She missed it, but that wasn't too surprising.She just giggled, bouncing down on her feet. “Come onnnn~” shesaid, sing-song again and her mood rebounding to a different planeagain. “I wanna see your cool robot form, sir! Pleeeeeease?”

The truck exuded polite obstinance.Eons ago, ancient senators and Functionalist ministers had despairedat convincing little Orion Pax to transform out of his block-shapedalt mode to deliver a report. Millions of eons of eternal warfare hadeven put a bit of an edge to his stubbornness.

“...I know you fight weirdsupervillians and evil space monsters in this city all the time!”Star said, trying another tack, with just the right amount ofwheedling in her voice. “And Detroit, too? You transform all thetime to fight then! I wanna seeeee~!”

“Yes, I do transform frequentlyduring a need to do so in public,” Optimus mused. One of his wheelsrevved slowly, in a manner identical to someone putting clasped handstogether. “To fight monsters. And do you see any right now?”

“...I could make some?” Star saidhopefully.

“I would rather you not, yourhighness. My point being, the people of this city are use to seeingme active only during times of great peril.” A slight pause, tomake his point. “They would likely assume this is such a time, andreact accordingly.”

“Ooh! That sounds fun!”

“I fear I am not getting theright impression across.” Optimus had to acknowledge that Starrather reminded him of some young, feisty and particularly stubbornSparklings he'd known; Rodimus, his and Elita-1's firstborn, had beenlike that until... wait, no, he was still like that, Optimus notedwith amusement. Bumblebee was a more accommodating child, but hadfancied himself a schemer, somethingthat never failed to fill parents with both pride and frustrateddread. And of course, when he himself had been younger... well.

The humans had a term; 'hell raiser'.It hadn't been even half of what Orion Pax had gotten up to. Becominga revolutionary and toppling the Functionalist system had been alogical progression.

A thought occurred to him; he'd rarelymet beings from actually outside his universe – and he wasn'tentirely sure if the divine presence of Primus counted, and it wasn'tsomething he care to speculate on – and he'd certainly nevertraveled beyond it. This seemed to him to be a rare and fascinatingopportunity for some... what did the humans call it? A culturalexchange?

“I suggest a proposal,” he saidsolemnly. “You can travel to other realms than this. Correct?”

“Yeah-huh!”

“If you agree to allow me to visitthem alongside you, I shall do so in my bipedal form!”

“EEEEEEE!” She bounced up and down,clapping and turning several trees into very confused whales made ofwood with tiny little bug legs. They walked off, and their destiniesled them to become lawyers, but that is not our tale today. Variousother magical weirdness happened around her as she tried to think ofa place that would appeal to Optimus. “Um... um... let me think?”

“Take all the time you require, youngone.”

“Okay.” she paced aroundthoughtfully. “Uh... how about the Autochthonian Realm of Brass andShadows? The realm that comprises the body of the Machine-Titan,Autochthon the Great Maker? It's all full of robots and people makingposes, you'd like it!”

“Your information may be rather outof date. The titan Autochthon reformatted himself into Primus eonsago. The Realm of Brass and Shadows is my homeworld, Cybertron, now.”

“Dang it! Hmm. Sigil, the City ofDoors? It's very easy to get into, there's all kinds of need thingsthere? Like, uh... libraries and-”

“LIBRARIES, YOU SAY.” Optimus' tonehad a sudden raise of excitement.

“Ooh, yes!” She thought thatsounded kind of boring but it was nice to see him hyped up.

“Ah, yes- wait. I forgot, we mustn't.I and my Autobots have been banned from there for sixteen more humanlifetimes.”

“For what?” Star asked, put out butcurious.

“...It is not for me to say,”Optimus said after a moment, with just an edge of awkwardness to it.“There was a trailer full of rubber chickens, sixteen pots ofgrease, an authentic copy of the Necrotelecomnicon, the multiverse'sthird largest ball of yarn, and... ah yes. Exactly onecomically oversized noveltymonocle.”

“I don't get it!”

“I didn't either but I stillallowed the Dinobots and Aerialbots to put on that street improvperformance. And for their sins, we are barred from the City ofDoors.” He sighed longingly, for the libraries. “And I never evengot to see what they were going to use the ball of yarn for.”

Star immediately vowed to exploit timetravel just to go back in time and see what happened there. (And thenrecord the whole thing. And put up the videos on the Multiverseinternet, if it looked funny.) “Okay, so Sigil is no good...”

She brought up a dozen otherpossibilities, which received varying degrees of enthusiasm fromOptimus Prime. She was determined to find one that suited hisinterests; she would see her hero's most famous form, or she wouldengage in shenanigans trying!

In between her proposal to visit theElemental Realm of Ranch Dressing (a pretty niche realm, and notlikely one that would be healthy for his mechanisms or tires) andpaying a brief stop to the depths of the mind-realms to bop from onedream bubble – self contained realities made from memories,feelings and time lines that could have been, which made them handyfor exploring what ifs – that she remembered something.

For it has been asked, what doesa hero like Optimus Prime actually do forfun? What does a prophet of Primus, the champion of Cybertron, andthe living face of everything the Autobots stand for do when nothingis terribly pressing on him? Most people assume something along thelines of ceremonial dueling, or perhaps combat races. But they wouldbe wrong; he had quite enough fighting in his day to day, he didn'twant it in his recreation.

What Optimus Prime reallyliked to do, Star would learn,was... well. He liked to read. And throw basketballs at unsuspectinghumans, or drive around mountains while blasting 80s rock ballads forno apparent reason, but mostly reading.

“Hold a moment,” he said. “IF youwould... what did you say before?”

“What? About the Realm of EternalItchiness? It's really kinda overrated.”

“No, no. Before that.”

She thought about it. “The AkashicLibraries?”

“Please elaborate.”

“It's, um...” as she explained itto him, the Akashic Libraries, or the ones she knew of, could bedescribed as the sum total of all human knowledge, all possiblestepping stones to enlightenment that had ever been discerned or feltor written down in all creation across the multiverse. This was a bitof a misnomer, of course.

It wasn't just humanknowledge in there. Humans wereyoung, yet to reach their full stride as a civilization in terms ofnavel contemplating questions. Every species that had ever thought,their memories and words where in those libraries. Every book thoughtburned, it was there. Every scroll smashed to hide its contents, acopy of it was in those libraries. Every data track, every binaryengram, every single conceivable method of storing thoughts andleaving them for others to read and learn from them, was in thoselibraries.

Cybertron was long gone. It'sknowledge, lost but for the few relics and archives the Autobotswhere able to hide away with them before the Decepticons laid theirown world to ruin. So much had been lost, never to be regained, but,in the Akashic Libraries... they were there. They were waiting to beremembered.

Optimus' engine revved up at thethought of that, of all the civilization's memories dwelling withinthere, countless alien societies and their thoughts waiting to belearned, their languages understood and their texts comprehended-

“I believe,” he said, trying veryhard to contain his excitement. “I would like to visit there.”

“Neat!” Star said, summoning up aportal. “Fair warning, we'll probably get lost and have a wholebunch of weird and silly diversions before we actually get there.Rule one of traveling the multiverse.”

Optimus said, “I believe Rule One is'do not be incautious with small, wrinkly, smiling old bald men'.”

“I think that's just for in general!Not for traveling the multiverse, specifically.”

“Hrm. A good point.” There was abrief pause as he receive a notification. “Pardon me. One of mysub-commanders wishes to have a word.”

“Okay!” She turned away and hummedhappily to herself.

Optimus spoke in Cybertronianpulse-speech, incomprehensible to most organics, and thus entirelyprivate. “Optimus here.”

The growling, bassy voice of Grimlock –a rare beastformer who had chosen to reformat himself so that hisprimary form was a beast mode rather than a bipedal humanoid frame,and his alt mode was whatever vehicle he'd scanned lately –responded. His normal difficulties with language were considerablyreduced in this particularly intimate form of speech. “Prime. Did Ijust hear you plannin' on going on some cosmic hunt with a weirdmagic kid-thing?”

“...Perhaps...”

“Are there gonna be shenanigans!?”Grimlock demanded.

“Almost certainly.”

“And you're going withoutus to have fun adventures!? Waitfor some of us before I drag you home and make you sing atSwoop's music night!”

Optimus shuddered, but held firm. “I'mso sorry but I do believe you're breaking up-”

“Am not! You know the rules; no funadventures on your own, we gotta come with! It's no fun leavingeveryone else off.”

“Yes but- wait. How did you knowabout my conversation with the cosmic magic princess?”

“Oh, I know all kinds of things aboutyou. I spy on you all the time! I have achieved supreme consciousnessand exist in all points simultaneously, and I gaze into your mind andknow it at all times.”

“...I doubt that.”

“Yeah,” Grimlock admitted. “Imade that up. I actually have Swoop flying a couple thousand feetabove you with a really goodcamera. Say hi, Swoop.”

“TOP OF THE WORLD, MA!”Swoop screamed cheerfully. Swoop had decided to only speak in popularmovie quotes this month, and they were just going to have to put upwith that for a while.

“I shall take this underadvisement.” Optimus spoke next to Star again. “Your highness, Ihave been informed that at least one of my Autobots wants toaccompany us.”

Star bounced up and down happily again.“Ooh! Which ones?”

“I'm not sure.” Optimus rang upGrimlock once more. “Who wishes to come along?”

Grimlock counted them off. “Uh, let'ssee. Elita-1 says she's sick of you having sweet adventures while shehad to be all responsible and scrap, so she wants to come with. Igotta go, no question. Dad Wheeljack is probably gonna show up so, beready for that. And the kids want to come, too!”

“Ah, the Technobots. Which ones?”

“All of them. They're combined intoComputron and refuse to split up so... yeah. Be prepared for that.”

“Understood.” Optimus returned hisattention to Star. “I have excellent news, and some veryunfortunate news.”

“Gimme the good stuff first!”

“Firstly,” said Optimus. “We havea set group and they will likely ensure your safety. My fellowcommander and wife, Elita-1, shall be coming. One of mysub-commanders, Grimlock, will also be attending.”

“Which one is he?”

“...He is the RV that transforms intoa robot tyrannosaurus.”

Star made an excited noise that couldnot possibly be translated into human terms without the use of acouple foghorns, a very startled cat, and a full orchestra.

“As well as one of his fathers,”Optimus continued. “And his children. Who are presently fused intoa super-giant robot and unlikely to defuse any time soon.”

“OH MY GAWD THAT'S EVENBETTER!” Star got so excited she fell over, flopping in place andvibrating with joy, what a wonderful day this had become.

[skeletorific]

HT Papyrus x Reader

Part of a fic swap deal with @tyranttortoise who requested some romancing of the boney broken babe. Fyi, don’t feel pressure to make my request this long, for some reason this prompt just really inspired me and I had a long car ride in which to develop itX]

Pairing: Horrortale Papyrus x Reader (Pap’s perspective)

TW: cannabalism mention, gore mention, slight blood....its Horrortale guys

Word count: 3294

Today is a good day.

Today is a good, very good day.

Today the human is coming over to have a very cool date.

Perhaps I should not call them “the human”? After all, we are Above now. And there are many many humans. Not like before, when we were lucky to get one. But they do not seem to mind, and it is a hard habit to break.

They do not seem to mind much. It is very refreshing, because so many humans do seem to mind. We frighten them.

Perhaps they should be. There were not many of us that made it to the Surface, and those that did are having a very hard time adjusting. Even though there is plenty of food, it is hard to forget being hungry for so long.

It is hard to look at a human and not want to eat. It is hard not to try and attack them, even though it is no longer necessary.

It is sometimes too hard. Sometimes there is an attack again, and it makes the humans more afraid than ever. And it is terrible, but you cannot be too harsh on the monster.

It is hard to remember. Hard to forget.

Not for me, of course. I am, after all, the very astute and clever Papyrus. It was very easy for me! I was very ready to add to my vast hordes of admirers among the Surface!

But....sometimes I still get confused. Sometimes I still wander back under the mountain, and I go home, looking for everyone, and wondering why I am so alone down here. Sans does too, more often. But I think he likes being down there more anyways. He says it is easier. Simpler.

It was when I was looking for him that I met y/n. They were exploring, curious about this former home of monsters. They were examining one of my old puzzles with interest. They seemed startled when I called out to them, but I introduced myself as the maker of that masterful jape they were studying, and began to explain to them the solution. Normally, of course, I would never cheat them of the great fun of trying to solve it, but I did not want the human hurt. I never want to hurt any more humans.

They seemed to be interested in seeing more, so I led them around and showed them more of my puzzles. They did not seem afraid of me, despite my intimidating stature. They looked curiously at the stains on my teeth, but did not say anything. They were very very friendly.

We met several times under the mountain after that, and slowly became the best of friends. They reminded me of another human. Not Aliza, they were very different from her. But another one.... whose name and face I could not place.... but then my brain is far too jumbled of late. Too many friendly concussions from Undyne.

They came over more and more often. They seemed fairly accepting of us monsters. Even Sans seemed to like them, although it is getting harder and harder these days to tell what Sans is thinking. But he has not tried to attack them yet, which is a very good sign.

Today, however, we are trying something new. I had shown them one of my old dating manuals, and they said that they would be interested in trying one with me. So we are going on a picnic!

They show up with a basket with two sodas, some chips, and a small cake. I present them with a container of my famous spaghetti, which they gratefully accept. It is, of course, my non-special variety (though I am still trying to get rid of those leftovers).

They lead me to a spot in the forest. I can see a park in the distance, though we do not go too close. I have found that humans with children are especially nervous around me. Clearly worried their children will feel disheartened in the presence of so much greatness. One day they will realize that the Great Papyrus is also a great mentor! For the now, though, we give them space.

I flip through my dating manual’s pages. “OOH! THERE’S A SPECIAL SECTION ON DATES IN NATURE.”

“Fire away.” The human says, smiling as they swing the basket by their side.

I squint at the pages, pulling them close to my face. “WHEN WANDERING THROUGH THE WOODS WITH YOUR BELOVED, IT IS CONSIDERED ROMANTIC TO ‘SWEEP THEM OFF THEIR FEET’, AND CARRY THEM OVER THE FOREST FLOOR!” I smile. “THAT DOES SEEM VERY ROMANTIC!”

“Welp, hold this.” They hand me the picnic basket. I take it, confused. What could the human...? Suddenly they are standing by me, one hand supporting my back while the other moves to sweep my legs off the ground. I beam, but have some misgivings.

“ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU CAN-”

“I got this.” They say, and they pick me up, their face red and straining. They start taking a few steps forward before they must set me down.

“.... I CAN-”

“No, no, I got it, dude.” They lift me up again. They get a little further this time, but are clearly struggling.

This will not do. I push myself to my feet and pick them up. They seem startled and little embarrassed.

“Come on, Paps, I can do it!”

“I APPLAUD YOUR EFFORTS.” I assure them. “BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALSO A GREAT CARRIER OF HUMANS, SO FEEL FREE TO RELAX IN MY STRONG AND MASCULINE ARMS.”

They laugh and lean against my rib cage. “Alright, alright.”

We walk on until we reach a clearing we deem suitable, and I set them carefully on their feet.

“Alright, I’ll admit it.” They say, standing on the tips of their toes and reaching up to pat my shoulder. “That was some stellar human carrying.”

“THANK YOU, I’VE HAD LOTS OF PRACTICE!” I decide not to mention that most of those humans were not moving, and those that were were not usually as happy to be in my arms.

“I don’t doubt it.” They start spreading the blanket on the spot. “Mind unpacking?”

“OF COURSE!” I say, unpacking the spread. A bit of a drool leaks between my teeth at the sight of food. Most uncouth. I wipe it away and remind myself to behave.

The human looks around, hands planted firmly on their hips. “Yeah, gotta admit, this is a prime spot for a picnic.”

“INDEED! THE SUNLIGHT LOOKS VERY PRETTY, MUCH LIKE Y- “I smack my forehead. Foolish, foolish Papyrus. “FORGIVE ME, THE COMPLIMENTS SEGMENT IS MEANT TO COME AFTER WE PARTAKE OF THE FOOD.”

They grin as they sit down beside me. “It’s okay, Pap, I don’t mind. And you look very dashing in this light.”

I feel a faint blush creeping up to my cheekbones. “O-OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALWAYS MOST FLATTERED BY A NATURAL LIGHT!”

They laugh.

We begin to eat. As usual I clear my plate much faster than them. An old habit. After all, one can’t have their food running away before it is finished! I try not to look too hungrily at their plate. That would be most impolite, and I am sure I’ve had…. had….

So hungry….

They seem to notice my look, though. A fork is held near my face and they smile. “Here. Have a bite.”

“N-NO, I AM FINE.”

“Come onnnn….” They waggle the utensil in a manner that I believe is meant to seduce me to try it. “You look famished, and I’ve got plenty.”

Hesitantly, I take a bite. “THANK YOU, HUMAN.” I say.

“Don’t mention it.”

We continue like this, them feeding me bits from their plate. It is…. nice. It is nice to fed like this, so kindly and gently. I must be careful and remind myself not to bite their hand as well, but still, it is very enjoyable.

After eating we decide to explore the clearing a bit. They start picking flowers (unfortunately foiling my plan to surprise them with a bouquet. Well, no matter. I would not know which of these plants was poisonous to humans anyways, and there is still a final surprise I have in mind….).

I stumble across various forms of wild-life. Most flee when they see me, although a few squirrels stare at me curiously. I cannot reach them, tall as I am. Possibly for the best. Squirrels hold up even less than humans to the hugs of the Great Papyrus. A very great shame.

Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me, and I whirl around to see the human, holding something behind their backs.

“Darn, was trying to sneak up on you.”

“NATURALLY, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO ESCAPE MY KEEN SENSES. “I tilt my head curiously to see what is clasped behind them. “BUT WHY WERE YOU TRYING?”

They grin. “Close your eyes.”

I do so immediately.

They walk closer, and I can hear them jumping. High and higher, up and down. Finally, they sigh in frustration. “You’re gonna have to kneel down too, big guy.”

I smile and do so, my bones cracking slightly as I plant my knees firmly on the ground. There is a pressure on my skull, and something leafy and slightly damp is left there.

“Alright, you can open them.”

I open my eyes, and they are smiling widely. “Perfect!”

I reach onto my head and pull off what they put there.  It is a beautifully crafted flower crown, made of the large blue and small orange flowers I had spotted them picking earlier.

I stare in awe, first at the crown, then at them. “DID YOU MAKE THIS, HUMAN?!”

They nod.

“FOR ME?!”

They laugh. “Of course, ya doofus.”

I pull out my phone and turn the camera to face me as I place the crown back on, and examine myself carefully, gasping at the sight.

Stunning! Beautiful! Perfect! And the flower crown is lovely as well!

I pick the human up and swing them around. “I LOVE IT!”

They laugh harder, wrapping their arms tightly around me. “I’m glad.”

I hold them a little distant from me and smile knowingly. “OF COURSE, I HOPE YOU DID NOT HOPE TO WIN THAT EASILY!”

They raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Win?”

I shake my head. The human, kind as they are, is a very poor strategist and japer. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT BE OUTDONE IN DATING POWER!” I tuck them under my arm and walk towards the meadow. “I WILL CRAFT A CROWN TO EQUAL THIS ONE, WONDERFUL AS IT IS!”

They are a bit startled by the position change. “It’s not really a compe…” They shake their head and smile. “You know what, let’s do this. Let’s see how the Great Papyrus does at flower crowns.”

I select a wide range of flowers, choosing some that resemble the human’s eyes. They must direct me a bit on weaving, and I am ashamed to see that my claws appear to be shredding the petals, but in the end, I turn out something satisfactory to my standards.

“Looks good.” They say, examining it. “Let’s try it on.”

I shake my head. “NOT JUST YET!”

“Um….”

I get down on my knee. My bones rattle somewhat and it is difficult to balance my limbs like this, but I refuse to break form. “HUMAN! YOUR BEAUTY, WHILE OF COURSE IMMENSE, I HAVE OBSERVED WOULD BE EVEN MORE IMPROVED WITH THE ADDITION OF THIS CROWN. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS GIFT AS A TRIBUTE OF MY AFFECTIONS!”

Their smile becomes wider, and they bow their head (oh that neck, that pretty, soft neck that looks like so delectable a cut….). “I readily accept.” They take the crown from my hands and place it on their head. It suits them well, and I feel a thrill of pride. “Now come here.” They pull out their phone and start positioning their phone for a selfie. “This is going on my Instagram.

I walk over. I have to stay kneeling in order to get into the frame, but any effort that gets the Great Papyrus in a picture is worth it. Just before they snap the picture I realize my tooth is sticking out at an odd angle and carefully poke it back into place. My smile must always be camera ready!

We spend a few hours talking. I tell them stories of my exploits. All of them before the SOULs disappeared. Of course, I  cannot speak to their accuracy, everything is a massive jumble, a tangle finer than any pile of noodles, but I say what I can remember and they help me fill in the rest. They tell me a few stories from their childhood. Most of their life they dismiss as “boring” but it is very fascinating to me. Their experience is so varied compared to my own, so full of new places and people, so few of whom end up in other people’s stomachs!

We take a walk around the forest. They occasionally veer off the path and bring me back a small gift, explaining what it is if I am confused and handing it to me. I place them all in my pockets or under my very cool hat. I bring them some flowers and stones I find as well. Also a small bird skull. They seem a little off-put by my lecture of how you can tell how the meat has been stripped off the bones by the marks, but I am certain that is just processing information. After all, I am a very informed skeleton, and not all minds are prepared to handle that much knowledge at once!

Slowly, the sun sinks in the sky. It is always a mournful time. The sun is one of my favorite parts of the Surface, and it is most disappointing how often it feels the need to go to sleep. It is almost as lazy as my brother!

Still, the sunset is always a beautiful sight. I much prefer sunrise, but seeing the sky lit up with so many gorgeous colors is always exhilarating. I watch with breath held.

               The human watches too, looking happy and content. As the sky fades from blue to cobalt to navy to black, they sigh. “Getting late. We should probably head back.”

               “N-NOT JUST YET.” They raise an eyebrow. I feel uncharacteristically shy. Still, I buck myself up and lead them back to the blanket. I pull a flashlight from the basket and position it so it lights up the clearing. I then pull my phone out, select the playlist I arranged especially, and turn up the volume to full. The phone lies on the blanket, playing music with all the power in its tiny speakers. I turn back to the human and hold out my hand. “HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD LIKE VERY MUCH TO FINISH OFF THIS DATE BY DANCING WITH YOU. THAT IS,” I correct myself. “IF YOU WOULD LIKE.”

               They stare at my outstretched hand, and for a moment their cheeks seem to be turning a red color. A blush. Instead of magic, their bodies express embarrassment by sending their tasty blood into their cheeks. Most peculiar, and yet fascinating!

               The human smiles, and puts their hand in mine. The soft flesh, so willingly given, feels good against my bones. “I’d love to dance with you.”

               I smile and pull them closer, beginning a slow waltz.

               They are, quite frankly, no expert in dancing, but I myself am a bit rusty. I learned how to dance from Undyne, but….needless to say we had not practiced in a while. Still, it is gentle and nice, the human smiling and giggling whenever I dip them. I consider scolding them for their light-heartedness about this very serious romantic gesture, but decide to leave it be. It is a pleasant sound, anyways. They try to dip me a few times, and are actually somewhat successful. I beam at them.

               The height difference leads to some difficulty. In the end, I let them stand on my toes. The pressure is not as bad as I expected, and they seem happy with the arrangement, leaning against my chest.

               “ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD DATE?” I ask.

               “Its been perfect.” They look up, eyes shining. “And I know just how I want it to end.”

               I raise my browbones expectantly. Possibly another dance? Dessert somewhere?

               They lean in close, eyes closed, and press their lips against my teeth.

               I start, but make no move to pull back. My…..my first kiss! It does not feel how I expected, but it feels very nice. Their lips are so soft….and they are so warm, and close, and kind…..and they smell good…..and their taste…..oh stars, their taste….

               So hungry….

               My mind goes black and only awakens when I hear them cry out in pain. It is like I open my eyes, and when I do, they have pulled away and are pressing their fingers to their lip. When they pull them away, there is a small smear of red.

               “WHA-….I…..” There is a familiar taste on my teeth, and I wipe my phalanges across them. When I pull them away, they are stained in blood.

               “OH NO!”

               “Paps, its okay,” the human says, rubbing lightly at the wound. “Its not a big deal.”

               “IT IS A BIG DEAL!”  How could I?! I thought I had control of that moment, thought I would be fine, but the taste….it had thrown me back into the days of hunger, and I had hurt them! “I’M SORRY, I’M SO SO SORRY, HUMAN!” What if it happened again? What if I kept biting them? What if I…..no, I was convinced I would never lose control enough to….but what if they left? What if I lost the first real friend I had made up here?! I kept repeating my apologies over  and over.

               “PAPS!” They yell, silencing my stream of regret. “Its okay, seriously. See?” They part their lips to show me the wound. “Its just a little cut. Not a big deal at all.”

               I look closely. While I think they may be understating how much it hurts to preserve my feelings, it is indeed smaller than I originally thought.

               “BUT I-“

               “Its okay.” They repeat. They put a hand to the side of my face, and though I’m still frightened their touch is peculiarly calming. “I know it was an accident. Plenty of people bite their partner’s lips on purpose anyway. I just have to know….is it because you were hungry again?”

               I look away, and consider lying, but in the end I say “YES.”

               A look of concern (and a bit of fear, I note sadly) flits across their facie. “Alright. Alright, its okay, Paps…..it has to be hard to forget that kind of thing. But its not your fault. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. Okay?”

               I nod. “OKAY.” I wouldn’t. I would never hurt them on purpose. I wouldn’t

               I wouldn’t.

               Would I….so hungry….

               They smile. “We’ll just do cheek kisses in the future, okay? Until you’re ready.”

               “THAT….THAT SOUNDS VERY NICE.”

               “I’m glad.” They let go of me. “Alright, nice as that dance was, I think its time we got home.”

               I agree (Sans tends to worry when I am out too late, and Sans’ worry is not something I would wish upon this human) and yet I cannot help but feel a twinge of regret as they begin packing up the remains of the picnic.

               “HUMAN?”

               They turn around to look at me. “Yes?”

               “COULD…..COULD WE TRY THAT CHEEK KISS NOW?”

                Today is a good day.