#i need to start collecting things like that. i need to make an archive somehow

[grimmthorne]

okay so I need to do a deep dive of my blog and find all of the cool stuff i reblogged about being queer and trans and compile it all into one tag so I can keep looking at it and keep being happy about it

[tinydefector]

MTMTE headcanons

Some of the headcanons I have for when I write stuff for the characters. So enjoy the silly little things I think about while writing these guys

Warnings: some have nsfw content in them

Words count: 3K

The Scientist 

- Perceptor and Brainstorm regularly have intense debates over various sci-fi shows and movies while working. 

- Rewind is secretly a formidable DJ and often Swerve has him doing music playlist for the bar. 

- Brainstorm insists on demonstrating his latest inventions at weekly crew meetings. Most of his devices are useless or end up causing minor disasters, to the annoyance of Ultra Magnus, it has resulted in multiple new rules being made . 

- Rewind is making a documentary about life on the Lost Light. Nobody realised until he released the "behind the scenes" cut that has Magnus and Megatron both drivking energon, “I hate this crew so much” Magnus huffs, “would you rather starscream?”.

- Rewind has amassed a huge secret stash of rare historical films, songs, and books that he pirates from other planets if its stuff he himself hasn't recorded. He'll only share them if you trade rare datafiles with him. 

- Brainstorm's experiments have caused more than one shipwide malfunction or strange phenomenon. Which resulted in having to contain the humans on board after realising it affected their skin in a way that the scent made The bots extremely horny. 

Cyclonus and Tailgate 

- Cyclonus is generally stoic but has a secret sweet tooth. He can often be found sneaking snacks when he thinks no one is looking. 

- Cyclonus has accumulated a giant collection of tiny earth souvenirs for tailgate but will never admit where they come from. 

- Cyclonus indulges Tailgate's interests just to spend time with him, 

-Cyclonus has taken to meditating in the engine room with drift to get away from the daily chaos. UnfortunatelyWhirl joins them every time to "help him find his inner peace" which mostly involves strange noises and objects flying by.

-Tailgate has become convinced the Lost Light is haunted after a prank goes wrong. Now he drags Cyclonus along on nightly "ghost hunts" which mostly consist of jumping at shadows. 

- Tailgate gets very excited about trying new types of energon goodies and treats he finds on other planets. Cyclonus has to gently remind him to pace himself so he doesn't get a tank ache. 

- Thanks to his small size, Tailgate can easily squeeze into small spaces to repair things or retrieve lost items. Unfortunately he sometimes gets stuck and needs help wiggling back out which has led to some rather spicy times for himself and Cyclonus. Occasionally Whirl. 

- Tailgate is an awful shot with firearms but tries to practise constantly. The other bots have to avoid being in the line of fire during his "target practice sessions."

- Tailgate tries so hard to act tough that he sometimes comes across more adorable than intimidating. The other bots try not to laugh...most of the time.

- Tailgate has become obsessed with human paranormal investigation shows. He tries to convince everyone to do a seance in the lower cargo decks and engine room, he forgot the sparkeater was down there. 

- Tailgate loves watching old earth movies with the human crew. Rewind is always happy to supply new films from his extensive archives or record them from the humans Movie, Usb and harddrive stashes. 

Ratchet & Drift

-Drift and Ratchet have started a betting pool on how long it will take for Rodimus and Magnus to get in a screaming match this time. Ratchet always wins, Drift enjoys it. 

-Drift is somehow the richest bot on the Lost Light from his days as Deadlock, he doesn't use his shanix on himself and only spends it on people he cares for. 

- Drift meditates regularly and has tried to introduce the crew to Earth wellness practices like yoga, much to their bafflement. He enjoys practising with the human members of the ship.

- Drift meditates for hours in the cargo bay and tries to spread his philosophy of peace. It doesn't always work on this crew of hassling madmen but he does try.

- Drift meditates frequently to find his inner calm. It's one of the only things that allows him to tolerate Rodimus' antics for so long without having a breakdown over the speedster endangering himself.

-asides from Rung *cough Primus cough* Drift is one the oldest member of the crew who wasn't statused, but no one can tell due to how well he looks after himself now, but Ratchet knows how bad he used to look. 

- Ratchet has a comm channel blocked nearly every night to "discuss medical matters” it's his line to bitch talk with Rung. 

- Ratchet has a secret ship called the "USS Nail-Him-To-The-Berth", which is a small shuttle solely used to stealthily transport Drift to remote planets for romantic getaways. Drift jokingly added captain's stripes to his arms without telling him, drift was in fact the one who brought him said ship as a job gift.

- Ratchet having a secret collection of badly written medical holodramas he'll never admit to enjoying. Claims it's just for "research." But many nights you can find him, Drift and Rodimus curled up together watching them.

 

- Ratchet grumbles about why he signed up to be a doctor for a ship full of unruly idiots but deep down he cares about them all. Even Whirl...sometimes.

- Ratchet has banned Brainstorm from the medical bay after one too many experiment explosions. Now he has to do checkups in the hallway.

Megaton 

- Whenever he's frustrated, Megatron mutters to himself in ancient Cybetronian. Unfortunately, a lot of the curses and insults have been lost to time so they just sound silly now to some of the younger bots, it nearly makes Rung freeze up hearing the old text.

-Megatron has stowed away in one of the escape pods when things get too much. He leaves a note saying he needed a break, and he tries to make himself as small as he can inside the pod. 

- Megatron has started joining Swerve at the bar after shift and they've developed a genuine friendship, though Megatron still pretends he finds Swerve annoying. 

- Megatron has developed a secret hobby of arranging tiny furniture and scenes inside empty energon cubes. He claims it helps him relax. Eventually some of the humans ask him to help with arranging their own furniture 

- Megatron has a secret hobby where he writes romance novels under a pen name. He's actually quite the romantic,  quite a few bots have read his work but he rather keep it under a pen name these days after the works he used to publish. 

- Megatron has taken to leaving sticky notes reminding Rodimus of the task he has to do. It doesn't always work but it has gotten Rodimus to remember a few things. 

- Megatron writes "broadly, deeply philosophical" in his captain's log, then spends an hour ranting about the merits of proper temporal coordinates and in the end both he and Ultra Magnus tend to both have rants over how bad Rodimus’ spelling is. 

-megatron always gets roped into babysitting whatever wild creatures Whirl and Rodimus find/rescue that week. On many occasions the humans have been left in his care against his pleads. 

- Megatron has started a small garden on one of the observation decks and finds the meticulous care of plants to be a calming hobby, it had become the food score for many of the humans on board and they are rather grateful to him for the hobby. 

- During movie nights, Megatron always ends up with either (Rodimus or insert) falling asleep on his lap. 

Skids

- Skids is clueless about his own strength and accidentally breaks things all the time like datapads or fuel cubes. He apologises profusely each time.

- skids gets way too invested in holodramas and movies, and yells at characters' bad decisions. The others gently tease him for it.

- skids tried exotic new fuel mixes in the hab suite's energon dispenser that usually end up glitching it. Swerve has to come and fix it. 

- His favourite Earth movie is The Fast and the Furious because he loves seeing high-speed races, but he can never remember the characters' names. 

- He once tried to make cybertronian energon goodies for humans and ended up nearly giving one of them food poisoning, Ratchet had to inform him humans can't consume energon.

- Skids volunteers to test out new gadgets from Brainstorm but often ends up as an unwilling test subject when things go wrong. He's developed a strange immunity to most sedatives at this point.

 

- Skids loves catching up on gossip and can always be counted on to have the latest gossip. He just may not always get all the details right…

Ultra Magnus/ Minimus Ambus 

- Magnus takes Rodimus' jokes and antics way too seriously and has trouble understanding sarcasm or joking around sometimes.

- He has an extensive collection of data pads cataloguing Cybertronian laws and regulations. He reads them for fun in his spare time. 

- Magnus gets distracted while trying to scold Rodimus because he's also trying to find the words to express how disappointed he is. 

- Whenever the Lost Light encounters something unknown, Magnus volunteers to write the official first contact report in excruciating detail, complete with footnotes and bibliography, most times he also needs the input from others to help with making decent impressions. 

- Despite his stern demeanour, Magnus has been known to crack a dad joke or two when he thinks no one is listening, it starts happening more often when Megatron and he are working together. 

- In a desperate attempt to loosen up, Magnus once joined Tailgate and Cyclonus for a night of drinking. He got absolutely overcharged and started doing karaoke. It is now part of Rewind's collection of Rare footage. 

- Deep down, he's a softy for romantic holodramas. 

- Somehow Minimus Ambus accumulates a massive collection of tiny human souvenirs like shot glasses and snow globes that he treasures. He meticulously dusts each one weekly. 

- In recharging moments, Ultra Magnus mutters equations and legal codes. His docking clamp also twitches in alignment with Enforcer protocols it's another rare thing that only (Megatron/ Human insert) know about. 

- Ultra Magnus has memorised and could recite the entire Great Charter of the Functionalists as it was something he did study mainly for knowledge. 

- Ultra Magnus has hidden photos of Rodimus doing ridiculous dances and lip sync battles with humans when he thinks no one is watching Proud Dad™️. 

Rung

- Rungs office is soundproof but sometimes Megatron or Rodimus can still hear him having meltdowns after appointments with certain patients. 

- Rung has a very rare high grade collection, some of the cubes are older than bots on the ship. 

- Old war stories give Rung flashbacks, and most times he has to walk away so he doesn't try and correct people on events he was present for. 

- Deep down Rung is a bit of a gearhead and loves helping Brainstorm in the lab, but don't tell anyone - it's his little secret joy.

-To help decompress after long therapy sessions, Rung knits tiny sweaters for all the human's onboard the Lost Light. Even made oen for Miminus, as other botss find out they start asking for small requested pieces from him. 

- The other bots have a gambling pool going on about how long it will take Rung to get fed up with Rodimus' antics and throw something at him. So far no one has won. 

- Rung had an impossible time getting anyone to show up for their therapy sessions until Megatron joined, now he seems to have a Very steady flow of patients, many with Ptsd. 

- Rung has redecorated his room with alien silk cushions and incense burning meditations pods. Crew members often visit just to relax and vent about ship problems.

-Rung never truly stopped being primus. It's just after so many millions of years, he's tired and he'd rather if people could just forget. His biggest fear is that one day he might turn out just like Unicron. 

Whirl

-Whirl is always stealing Rodimus' energon drinks and mixing them with high grade. Rodimus gets plastered and wakes up in weird places without remembering how he got there. 

- Whirl loves to sneak up on Tailgate and startle him for laughs. Cyclonus threatens Whirl with dismemberment if he doesn't knock it off. 

- Whirl starts an underground gambling pool for betting on who will be the next couple to get together. Nautica and Velocity are currently the frontrunners followed closely by (insert and Bot of choice).

- He snuck into Megatron's quarters on the Lost Light and messed with all his decor, moving furniture around and putting self-portraits of himself on the walls. To this day no one knows if Megatron has noticed and why nothing was said if he had.

- Whirl hacked the shipwide intercom to play love songs on repeat for a week straight. He claimed it was for "motivational purposes" but many bots suspected he was just bored.

- No one can prove it was him, but after one of Tailgate's game nights someone released glitter bombs all over the ship that took days to fully clean up. Suspicion fell on Whirl, it was in fact Tailgate who had gotten Whirl to make it for him. 

-Whirl accidentally joining every single one of Tailgate's hobby clubs and getting waaay to into each one, to the little bot's surprise. No one knows how to tell him he's in the sewing circle by mistake. 

- Whirl hits on everything that moves, despite constant rejections. He took getting thrown in the brig by security as a good sign once. 

- Whirl talks a big game and seems chaotic, but he is actually the most mature when it comes to looking after children. When one of the humans on board had a baby he became rather protective of them and their child. It also transfers over with sparklings (if/when) they are on the ship, he and Megatron are dubbed the babysitters. 

Swerve

- Constantly redecorating the bar to try out new lighting/theme ideas. One day it's a tiki bar, next it's a speakeasy. 

- Always bugging the other bots to join in games and activities at the bar. Usually ends up being the only one participating in crafts or dance contests. 

- Clumsy and easily startled. Accidentally breaks something in the bar at least once a week through spills or failed dance moves. 

- he Makes crazy custom drinks with wild synthetic engex concoctions. Often leads to strange/funny reactions in customers. 

- Endless list of nicknames for all the other crews. Brainstorm is "Sciencebot", Rodimus is "Hotshot", etc. Loves giving codenames. 

- Secretly a shipper and enjoys gossiping about who he thinks is into who. Always trying to play matchmaker between crewmates with whirl. 

- His favourite game to play at the bar is "Who Would You Rather?" and he always chooses the wildest, most inappropriate options to get a rise out of people, he loves hassling the humans over their strange biology. 

- Swerve is secretly hoping Megatron will one day ask him to be his personal assistant. He has the whole job role planned out because Megatron would make the best security guard. Swerve's bar fights would become such a problem that Megatron would consider said roll. 

- Swerve is convinced he's going to open the best bar/restaurant in the galaxy someday. He experiments with new fuel and engex recipes in the ship's improvised kitchen to the dismay of Ultra Magnus. 

- Swerve's bar gets rowdier each week as new engex flavours are tested. Merchandise bets and wild stories are the norm. 

- Swerve refuses to let Megatron stay in his bar without paying his tab in full first. But over time he starts handing off drinks to the old war lord.

Rodimus 

- Rodimus is constantly coming up with ridiculous dares to try and get Magnus to lighten up. So far he's had one of his human companions shot whipped cream at the enforcer before they bolted". 

- Rodimus is banned from the ship's engines after the sparkeater incident, mainly for his own safety. 

- Rodimus gets distracted easily during conversations and often trails off its Megatron who's the one who realises it and gets him a large figure toy so he can keep occupied while in meetings. 

- He doodles elaborate designs for new finish styles and ship paint jobs during important briefings and lectures, much to Ultra Magnus' chagrin. Megatron tells Magnus to ignore it because it's one of the only ways Rodimus seems to take in what is being said to him. 

- His habsuite is constantly a mess of strewn tools, parts, paint and upgrades. Drift tries to tidy it and just gives up. 

- Has started using ridiculous Earth slang he doesn't fully understand like "groovy" and "far out" just to get laughs. Drives Ultra Magnus nuts, the humans find it rather amusing watching him use it in the wrong terms. 

- Secretly loves 80s hair metal music but would never admit it. But he loves listening to it in his habsuite while working on things, he loves human music alot. 

- He tries desperately to be the cool, laid back leader but is constantly stressed and awkward. Inside he's a nervous wreck, worried that no matter what he does he's living in Optimus' shadow as a prime. 

- Rodimus stays up late watching Earth romcom movies and serial melodramas to get leadership tips, but mostly just ends up confused, he loves cuddling with (insert) as they explain the plot for him to make it slightly easier for him to understand. 

- He compulsively taps his pedes when anxious and doesn't realise he's doing it. Megatron is the one who normally send him away knowing that the more tapping the less Rodimus is listening when he's in this state. 

- His favourite Earth beverage is monster energy drinks, which the humans find rather amusing. (Energy Fluid au, he takes one mouthful and nearly spits it back out. “WHY ARE YOU ALL DRINKING TRANSFLUID!?!?” it leads to a lot of discoveries with *human insert*) He hassles them a lot with the promise of their favourite drink, no this dirty pervert instead just fills cups with transfluid and tells them that he has his own secret stash of monsters. As it gets around alot more bots start to get rather interested in how the humans had a drink that was pretty much the flavour of their transfluid. 

[starwarsmum]

Chapter 2 is up!

Dick sighed and leaned back into the first class plane seat. Jason had been bugging him to come to Paris with him since the end of the year, and had even bought him plane tickets as part of his Christmas present. He had also insisted on accompanying him, which was…suspicious. He was confident it wasn't a matter for their alter egos or they would have just taken the tubes over.

He glanced over at Jason, trying to scrutinise him in the dim light of the cabin. They had begun their flight in the early hours of the evening in Gotham which meant that the sky was only just beginning to lighten in the early morning of Paris. The broad man was snoring comfortably in the seat next to his, the white tuft in his hair almost glowing in the darkness.

As the plane landed, Jason stretched and bolted upright, practically springing to collect his luggage. Dick was concerned - Jason never got excited over a holiday, unless it was a cover for one of their ‘nightly activities’. But Jason had promised him that there would be no need for Nightwing or Red Hood to make an appearance. 

“Hell, Paris apparently has its own heroes, I'd hate to tread on their toes, ya know?” Jason said, apparently in good humour as they waited for their car to be available. Ever since the…disagreement, Dick and Jason had avoided using any of Bruce's resources. “Besides, it's all magical bullshit around here. Way above my pay grade.”

“You really did your research before we came, huh,” Dick marveled, sliding into the passenger seat as Jason took charge. He had apparently made an itinerary, starting with a trip to a famous pastry shop. “Are you sure I can't just look at what you have planned?”

“Nope,” Jason grinned, the car smoothly moving away from the lot. “I hope you've been brushing up on your French, Dickie. You're gonna need it.”

As they approached the corner that housed that patisserie, Dick saw a bustle of activity. Checking the time, he saw that it was just before 8:30, meaning that the school across the street was a hive of activity. There was less of a queue in the bakery thanks to the time and they waited patiently, eyeing up the various goods.

“Bonjour, ” came the jaunty welcome from the petite Asian woman. She was older and had a motherly look, smiling pleasantly as she waited for their order. Dick smiled back at her before ordering.

“Bonjour, madame, nous voudrions deux croissants chocolats et douze macarons, s'il vous plaît.” The woman smiled and rang them up before moving around to collect their order. As she did, Jason stepped forward as well.

“Pardonnez-moi, vous êtes Sabine?” Dick looked at Jason, bewildered, even as the woman - Sabine, apparently - responded cautiously yes. “Awesome, uh, nous sommes ici pour visiter Marinette, ou est elle?” Sabine nodded in understanding, brightening as she handed over their goods. She let them know that Marinette was over at the park nearby. Thanking her for the baked goods and her time, the pair made their way out of the bakery.

“Jason, what on earth was that about?” Dick demanded, as soon as they were out of earshot of the woman. He let out a noise of frustration at Jason's shrug and secretive smile. “Seriously, is Marinette a new girlfriend or something? Is that why you insisted on coming and dragging me all the way to Paris?”

“Listen, all good things come to those who wait, Dickie-bird. Look, there she is now. Marinette!” He hollered the last part, waving and grinning broadly at a small woman, similar but younger to the woman at the bakery. Dick saw her look up and smile, balancing something on her lap. Something that looked suspiciously like a small child, with dark hair

“Jason, why do you know a French woman with a baby ?” Dick was panicking, he could feel it. Had Jason somehow fathered a child in France? Was this a trip so that Dick could meet his new niece or nephew? “Jason, I swear to God, if you had a kid and didn't tell any of us, I will disown you .”

“Bonjour, vous êtes Monsieur Grayson, non?” Dick's eyes were huge as the woman approached, and they were glued to the bundle in her arms. When he didn't say anything, she cleared her throat and tried again. “ Pardon, I am Marinette, and this is Penélope. It is a pleasure, Monsieur Grayson. ”

“I- I think I'm going to pass out,” he whispered, feeling overwhelmed. “Jay, seriously, how could you not tell us? I'm not sure I can actually disown you, but this is big.”

“Penny's not my kid, Dick,” he said, but he did reach out for the wriggly bundle when Marinette held her out. “Marinette is more like…a little sister. Don't worry, little one,” he cooed down at the baby girl, eyes full of wonder. “Uncle Jason is here now.”

“ Oui, par mariage, ” Marinette snorted, rolling her eyes at the man. “Sorry, Monsieur Grayson, I'm sure you are very confused but I had to meet you before we could discuss anything in more detail. Mon mari , he is just being cautious.”

“Someone is being cautious…by sending you to meet me with your kid?”

“Because, I am not the one in danger of being hurt, oiseau, ” she said firmly. At his look of further confusion, she sighed and stepped towards him. “My husband, he has come very far in the years I have known him but he is worried that you will be angry with him. Il est fragile, and I will not allow you to hurt him if it can be avoided.”

“Pfft, fragile, sure,” Jason snorted, although he looked apologetic when Marinette glared at him. “Sorry Mari, but he hasn't changed enough for me to say he's fragile . Look, Dick's getting riled up and he is supposed to be here on holiday, I promise that he's not going to hurt him. He is the very last person in the world that Dick would hurt.”

Dick's eyes snapped up at that, widening as he gazed at Penélope, noting her slightly darker skin and just how dark her hair was. “No,” he whispered, looking up hopefully at Jason. “You found him?”

“Yes, Grayson, he did,” came a deep voice from behind him and Dick span so fast he almost pirouetted. He drank in the sight of his brother, tears springing to his eyes before he stepped forward and grabbed him into a hug. Damian sighed and patted his back, eyes suspiciously bright. 

“ Mon dieu, you brothers are so emotional,” Marinette said cheekily, taking Penélope back from Jason. Damian gave her a mock glare before pulling back from Dick and giving him a smile. “ Parfait, maintenant, can we go back to our home? I am sure Penny would like to have her breakfast and a nap.” 

Damian relieved Marinette of the job of carrying Penélope and she fell into step beside Jason, chattering about their Christmases. Dick felt his nerves come back with a vengeance. Damian seemed at ease, bouncing his daughter as he stepped.

“I am sorry for the cloak and dagger, Grayson. Marinette is, understandably, wary of our family. She only knows what I have told her, and what she has gathered during our time together. She also knows that nobody has come to see us in that time, and it makes her nervous that you have now come.”

“We didn't know where you were, lil D,” Dick said softly. He had always been gentle with Damian and it stayed true, even now. “I swear to you, we looked. We spent a solid month trying to find you, and even after that we kept trying. You didn't take the…usual transport for going abroad, none of your aliases were in use, and Jon said he didn't know where you had gone, only that you had told him you needed to go. I didn't even know you were gone until I returned from my case, and I'd lost 3 weeks alone to that.”

“Tt, Jason told us. He has assured us that it was a random piece of luck that led to him finding us, and has promised that we may reconnect with whom we choose at our own pace. But he did ask that he be able to tell you first. Now, let us go inside and we can settle Penny. Marinette, mon amour, will you start the coffee?”

“Bien sûr, tu veux un thé, mon chéri? ” She replied, setting up a highchair at a dining table towards the back of the room. He confirmed and she twisted her way into the kitchen, humming softly. They could hear her clattering in the kitchen, making Penélope gurgle and clap. Damian smiled at the child indulgently and placed her in the chair. “ Son petit déjeuner, Damian, elle a très faim. Tu en veux?"

Dick was in awe. The little family was clearly practiced in their morning routine, Damian taking charge of feeding his daughter - his daughter, Dick's baby brother had a kid - whilst Marinette made coffee and tea. When had his brother become so domestic? Just how much had changed when he had left home? He wanted to know everything.

“Dames, I'm so happy for you,” Dick burst out, brimming with pride, tempered by his sadness at having missed it. “You have a beautiful family but how…when did you meet? Where did you go after everything with…I just wish I had been there for you.”

Damian shrugged, although his shoulders tightened slightly. “I cannot say what would have been better, but I am happy with my life here, Grayson. Marinette has been a blessing, in many ways. She has helped me heal from things I did not know were hurting me, and she has blessed me with my own family. I would not change where I have come to.”

“Such a serious talk,” Marinette said, bustling into the room with a tea tray, weighed down with coffee, tea, milk sugar and some baked confectionaries. Jason whooped and took a seat at the table, leaving both the seat next to Damian, and the one next to Penny, free. “ Monsieur Grayson, you cannot change what Damian has been through and I would not want you to have stopped him coming to me. It is natural to want him to have never been hurt, mais if he had never left, I would never have found l’amour de ma vie. ”

“ Un conversation serieux, elle a dit, ” Damian said mockingly, making Marinette flush prettily. “Marinette, my love, you cannot say that and then follow up with an even more serious conversation.”

“ Silence, mon coeur,” she said severely. “Anyway, you wanted to know how we met, non ? Would you like to tell the story, or shall I?” Damian snorted and waved a hand to indicate that she should continue. “ D’accord , so I met Damian perhaps a month after he arrived in Paris…”

* Flashback 

It was getting dark, the summer day bleeding into a warm summer night. Marinette had been walking down a side street after meeting with Adrien. She had been prepared for the day to run longer than he had promised but it was still later than she had hoped to be walking home. She kept her head down and scurried across the next alley.

She heard a sound, a fleshy thud and a grunt, and she automatically turned towards it, hand coming up to touch her earrings. She saw the shapes of 2 men grappling and sprinted towards them, calling out as she did. As she reached them, she forced her way between them, shoving back the larger of the two as she stood over the prone form of the second.

“ Arrêtez, quoi tu fais? ” She demanded, meeting the man's eye. He let out an impatient noise before gesturing to a woman who was cowering behind a large bin. Her eyes widened and she looked back at the man on the floor, who was groaning and trying to get up. “ Merde, un voleur? Désolée, je ne savais pas. Ca va? ”

“Tt, je suis bien ,” the man said, his voice deep and annoyed. “ Il ne m’a pas vu avant je lui ai frappé. Il n’a pas utilisé son couteau .”

Marinette gave the man a long look, wondering whether she could turn her back on him long enough to use the restraints she carried with her. She decided that he had already helped one woman, she might as well put a little trust his way. She pulled out her phone and called the police, securing the other man's hands as she did so, speaking in rapid fire French. 

And then she went to the woman and spoke softly, reassuring her that all was well and that she could relax. The man continued to watch her, eyes sharp.

*End flashback

“...and after that, we exchanged numbers. He clearly knew what he was doing, the man had hardly a scratch other than being passed out. He seemed surprised by how I handled the problem, but not unhappy. Running into that alley was the best choice I have made, pour ma vie entier ” she beamed, turning her bright eyes back towards her husband.

“Tt, I think you could have done slightly better than a man who had scarcely a penny to his name and none to call a friend. And I know many of your friends agree,” Damian added grumpily, beginning to clean Penélope as she had finished her meal. 

“Well, I cannot help you, and other people, being wrong, Damian,” Marinette shrugged, standing and taking hold of Penélope. “ Maintenant, please excuse me, I must try to get her to sleep. She is unbearable sans her nap.”

“She will be several minutes, Penny struggles to sleep when we have guests,” Damian mused, the corners of his lips turning up slightly as he watched her go. His finger began turning one of his rings before he stilled and turned back to Jason and Dick.

“She's wonderful, baby bird,” Dick said softly, seeing the love she had for his brother. He ached to have missed so much - his first real relationship, how he had grown, his wedding - but he was relieved that Damian had had the chance to experience it all. He was grateful that someone as loving as Marinette had seen something in Damian and then stayed with him. “I can tell you love her very much, and she loves you too.”

“Oh, yeah, these two are disgustingly sappy. Even just through video chat they could rot teeth,” Jason joked, looking around instead of at either of his brothers. They passed more of the time, catching up on the changes in Dick and Damian's lives. They talked about Mar’i and Kor’i, Damian's job, their weddings…Dick had squealed when Damian pulled out his wedding album to show them.

“Holy shit, is that Jagged Stone?” Jason's voice was hushed but undeniably excited. “No way no way no way , you did not have Jagged Stone at your wedding .”

“He was not my guest, Todd. My wife has many connections, and Jagged insisted on providing the entertainment for the evening portion of the celebration.” At Dick and Jason's slack jaws, he snorted. “Marinette is a world acclaimed fashion designer, she is notable for making pieces for the eccentric musician, and when he heard that his ‘niece’ would be married, he insisted.”

“Hold up, Jagged Stone’s niece…famous designer…are you saying that you married MDC?! But…but Timmy has a contract with you! He is forever rubbing it in our faces that he gets to commission MDC originals, I'm pretty sure it's his only joy at this point, and you're telling me that your wife is the reason he gets to do that? That's so unfair! We've been in touch for nearly 2 months and you didn't think to tell me?”

“This is why he couldn't get you to relocate, isn't it?” Dick said to Marinette as she stepped lightly back into the room. “He's been so upset that he couldn't get you to move to Gotham but you wouldn't, because Damian would never.”

“Non , it was not Damian's decision. I think that he would go anywhere with me if I thought it would be good for us, but I would never wish to hurt him like that. Besides,” she added, in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I have the feeling that Monsieur Drake would monopolise my time if I was that close, and oncle Jagged would never forgive me.”

It was many hours later, and several giant yawns from Dick, that they admitted they needed to get to their hotel. Marinette said goodbye warmly, promising that Damian and Penélope would be available for the rest of their trip, even though she had work to do.

“There will be other visits where I can spend time with you all, but I think it best that Damian be allowed time with ses frères without me worrying over you all. I only ask, Dick, that you respect our decision not to involve Monsieur Wayne . I would never ask you to lie to him, but I must insist that you only give him information that he specifically asks for.”

Dick swore that he would keep the information to himself, although he begged to be able to tell Kor’i, which Marinette readily agreed to. 

“Thank you, Jay,” Dick said, on the drive to their hotel. “No, seriously, this is the best Christmas present I have ever received.”

“So you're not mad that I didn't tell you sooner? Good,” he sighed when Dick shook his head, “because Mari straight up terrifies me.”

[siriannatan]

Wings

All the games I play keep updating, and I have had a bit less free time recently so my writing has slowed down a bit :{

And I might have some more ZZZ brain rot I need to let out...

Scott was refusing to look up. Why? He didn't need to see fWhip's stupid triumphant smirks. Didn't need to see the bastard sitting on his brother's throne in the Rivendell palace. Scott was fully aware he'd lost the war. But he had no clue where Xornoth might be. Did he manage to escape? But why? He said he would never run away. Did he really leave Scott alone with their old allies? Allies they betrayed. Well, Scott didn't participate in any discussions or planning. He just followed his brother's orders like a good general should. They didn't seem to harm Rivendell.

"So, your brother ran away," fWhip hummed after a long silence of Scott refusing to look at him. All leaders of Wither Rose Alliance were sat in the room but others were so far mostly silent. Scott could hear others shift and huff occasionally even as he stared at the ground.

His knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the hard stone tiles. Wounds itching from lack of attention. His wings were long stiff in their bindings. Not like it was needed. He couldn't fly away if he wanted to. His true self forced out.

"According to what I know about elven law," Gem, fWhip's twin sister, Headmistress of Crystal Cliffs Academy, spoke up. A shiver of dread ran down Scott's spine. Did she know… "Xornoth can be considered an exile, meaning Scott is now the king," she did know. Of course, she knew. She figured out Scott was a half-dragon even with all the magic he used to hide it.

fWhip hummed. "Is that so," he chuckled and Scott heard him stand up. Followed by his boots on the tile. Then he could see fWhip's damned combat boots. "Then I might have an idea what we can do with Scott," suddenly a warm even through thick gloves hand grabbed one of Scott's horns and made him look at fWhip. "And maybe even annoy the cod lovers in the process," fWhip's grin was far too wide. He was enjoying his plan far too much for Scott. "You were supposed to marry Jimmy for the sake of alliance with Lizzie, no?" he smirked and suddenly seats were scraping against the floor.

"fWhip you better not say what I think you're about to say," Gem suddenly protested. Likely guessing the same thing Scott was guessing fWhip was about to say.

"Why? Isn't it about time I get married? Might as well use it to piss some people off," fWhip laughed, barely glancing at his sister. Scott glanced in her direction as well. She looked pissed. Fists clenched. Pearl hovering nearby. Sausage was just sitting causally. Likely didn't really care who fWhip married as long as their leader didn't turn on the rest of them. fWhip held the most military power in the whole alliance after all. "Come on Gem, it'll be just for politics. Right, fWhip?" Pearl tried her best to stop the siblings from fighting. "Right?"

fWhip stared at Scott in complete silence for a while. "Yeeah, sure, just politics," he hummed but Scott wasn't convinced the other dragon-hybrid was honest. He definitely had other things on his mind. Very physical things. "Make Rivendell a sovereign state to Grimlands, seal it with a nice little wedding so no one can challenge my claim," he added with a nod and a toothy grin.

He was absolutely planning to consummate the marriage. Would likely have some tradition or law ready as an excuse. To justify it to his sister.

Somehow Gem accepted the excuse and a couple of guards soon dragged Scott away. To a room where he was locked after being told fWhip will come and collect him later. Of course, he wouldn't be left alone in Rivendell. Of course, fWhip would be dragging him along to Grimlands. 

At least he wasn't chained anymore. Even if there was no window. Somehow fWhip found one room with none in the whole castle. Sadly it had to be a certain specific room.

Being half dragon Scott was seen as unstable and dangerous when young. He did have an explosive temper back then, yes. But was it the dragon part or the part told off for any, even the smallest, deviation from what was expected of him? The part who got locked in a room with no windows whenever he wasn't hiding his draconic traits. Whenever he tried flying. 

With a deep, shaking breath Scott curled up on the cot. Hiding in his wings like he did as a child when he failed his lessons on hiding what he was. He could not hate Xornoth for escaping. He didn't hate Scott for what he was. Even if did still had to hide it from the public. Even if he was in fWhip's claws. 

So he sat there, curled up. He wasn't crying. Just fighting the urge to hide his wings and horns and tail and scales. To hide it and pretend it wasn't what he was. To push away any memories of being jealous of fWhip and his freedom to be himself. To not hide anything. And he did feel it many times when younger. When his parents brought him to ruler's parties instead of leaving him at home.

He would see fWhip and Gem being normal siblings allowed to walk around together, without their parents constantly around them. He would see fWhip's horns wings tail and scales out in public. And back at home would ask why fWhip could just walk around like that. His parents would just say it was because he behaved well. So Scott tried his best to behave.

But he never behaved well enough. fWhip became this beacon of what he wanted to be. Or at least who he thought fWhip was.

And then he met fWhip. When Xornoth was discussing alliance matters with him. And the reality was different. Real fWhip was a menace and explosion gremlin far too eager to help blast tunnels through the mountains. Looking down at anyone and everyone but his sister. Speaking casually and dismissively even when he wasn't the one sitting on a throne.

Real fWhip was the exact opposite of what Scott thought he was.

Hearing the door open Scott curled up tighter. He did not want to see fWhip. He knew he had no choice. But he could try to delay it.

"Scott? You having a nap?" fWhip asked, painfully gently petting Scott's wing. His hands were bare. Rough from tinkering. "Come on, I didn't have a good chance to really look at you like this. I was honestly quite shocked Gem was right about you. I never saw someone like me before."

Shaking slightly, just the room and memories of it, nothing to do with fWhip he told himself. And glared at the other half-dragon. That had fWhip grinning widely hands instantly on Scott's face. Petting stray, stress-induced scales. Gently petting the base of his horns.

Scott stayed silent. Biting his lips, clenching his fists to not push fWhip away. He didn't need to provoke him. Or to respond in any way. Maybe once his curiosity was satisfied fWhip would leave. He just had to sit and bear with it. No reacting, no pushing away. No snide remarks. 

"What was this room even for?" fWhip hummed as he inspected Scott's left wing.

"Me," Scott said shortly. No annoying fWhip, he told himself.

"Why?" fWhip's hands froze as his attention focused on Scott's face.

"I was put here if I misbehaved," Scott said plainly, wishing fWhip would just drop it. "Wasn't here in a long while," he shrugged, not really caring anymore. 

"Misbehave how?" fWhip continued asking, annoying Scott further. 

He wants to know. Fine. Scott will tell him. "Talking back. Talking when not asked to. Leaving my room with any dragon parts visible," Scott listed off, keeping his voice as steady and monotone as he possibly could. He was quite proud of how calm he managed to sound. And of the expression on fWhip's face

fWhip looked angry as he suddenly stood up. When did he even get into Scott's lap? Suddenly Scott was being pulled up to his feet and out of the room. fWhip growled out orders in Grimlands language and then pulled away. To a carriage. fWhip was muttering to himself all the way. "In, I can't stand this place, I was planning to stay the night but no more," fWhip rambled as his allies ran out to see what was going on. "I'm leaving, it's damn cold here," he told them as he pushed Scott into the carriage. Slamming the door as soon as he had him in.

Scott sat down. Still shocked by fWhip's reaction. Was he angry for Scott's sake or about the situation in general? Not that Scott cared in particular. With a sigh, he glanced out. It looked like fWhip was arguing with Gem. Pearl was likely trying to calm them down. Sausage was just standing next to his sister, looking tired of it all. With a huff Scott sat back and closed his eyes. Maybe he could try to sleep.

The carriage started moving as soon as fWhip got in. Scott didn't open his eyes. Pretending to sleep sounded like a good way to avoid any more questions. fWhip didn't say anything but Scott felt that he sat next to him. Mostly by his warmth. fWhip was half-fire dragon after all. And Scott always had an affinity for ice.   He almost broke the act when suddenly one of fWhip's hand rested on his. It was really warm. But not unpleasantly. And still bare of gloves. Scott did manage to keep pretending to sleep even when fWhip gently tangled their fingers. It almost felt like a loving gesture. Not that Scott knew much about those. Having spent his whole life closely monitored and controlled.

Just sitting in silence with fWhip holding his hand quickly became too awkward for Scott so he pretended to wake up the moment the carriage shook a bit more.

"*yawn* wha..." Scott mumbled blinking and yawning. fWhip quickly retreated his hand. Interesting. Scott thought. 

"Your damn castle's too cold, we're going home," fWhip announced as if they didn't have that conversation. Quickly wrapping himself in his coat and wings. Scott nodded and yawned again, stretching a bit for good measure. "No hiding them," he warned and Scott nodded.

"Does it bother you that much? What I said in that room?" Scott asked, leaning more into the corner.

fWhip was silently staring ahead for a moment. "I don't like not understanding things, and I don't get how can anyone lock a member of their family in a room like that," he huffed, slumping slightly and looked at Scott. Eyebrows drawn together. Face twisted in something Scott couldn't name. "It just makes no sense to me. Why? Why make you hide and lock you in a room?"

Scott shrugged. He was shocked fWhip was so shocked about his childhood. "No idea, I was just put there after being told I misbehaved, and that I should be more like f...." Scott sighed, to him the whole conversation should have been done when he said exactly what the room was for. And barely caught himself before admitting who he was supposed to be more like. Hoping fWhip missed it in his bewilderment.

He did not. "More like who?" fWhip asked, leaning forward a bit.

"Whoever fit them at the moment," Scott dodged the actual answer. That it was fWhip he had to be more like. That would fry his brain with the contradiction.

fWhip hummed, eyes narrowing. "Weren't you about to say a name?" he poked.

"No," Scott shook his head. "My parents just didn't like that I'm a half-dragon so they did whatever they could to squash that," he sighed. He was really tired of fWhip's obsession with the topic. 

fWhip sighed and sat back. "I can see you don't want to talk about this now, I apologize for pushing that hard," Scott was a bit shocked by the apology. Who what this guy? Where was real fWhip? "I... When my traits manifested my parents got people researching it to make me as comfortable with it as possible. Gem's still constantly looking through Cliff's libraries for more info," he carried on. "What I mean is... I know a lot about who we are and if you want to know anything just ask..."

Scott nodded. Of course, fWhip would be shocked if that's how his family reacted. "What do you think I should know the most?" Scott asked, just to satisfy whatever urged fWhip to offer answers.

"We technically have two genders," fWhip said after a short while, cheeks dusted with pink. Scott blinked. Two? "I'm guessing you have no clue what yours is or had first cycle. With how much they repressed that side of yours," fWhip sighed and slumped against his seat. 

"What cycle?" Scott asked, a bit scared of what he might hear.

"Heat in my case since... since I'm an omega," fWhip said the last part pretty fast and quiet. Scott barely caught it. "If you turn out to be an alpha you'll go into rut."

"And the difference is?" Scott could feel his face heating up. He vaguely understood what that would entail. Being incredibly horny. 

fWhip's face was practically matching his hair as he spoke. "I want to be pushed down and taken and stuff. I suppose alpha would be the opposite... And I think you might be one... Dragon side of my brain likes your scent," he rambled pretty quickly.

"Oh..." Scott managed. His own senses felt so dull at the moment. Was it due to constantly hiding? Possibly. "If my senses are supposed to be sharper than a normal person's then I think concealing messed them up," he said, just to swap the topic. Would fWhip, or some part of him, expect his assistance during his heat? More than likely.

fWhip hummed. "That really sucks," he sighed and... sneezed. "Why is it so cold here," he huffed.

"Might be me, I always ran a bit cold. It got even worse with the whole dragon thing," Scott theorised. But as he looked at fWhip, his brain oh so helpfully supplied the thought that fWhip looked quite cute all bundled up. He did try to make some more distance, pushing himself against the wall of the carriage.

fWhip had none of it and cuddled up to Scott. "Take some damn responsibility then," he huffed before closing his eyes. Scott blinked. Was this guy for real?

With a sigh, he relaxed and soon, with the help of fWhip's soft snoring and warmth, also fell asleep.

When he woke up the carriage was not moving. Did they take a break? Nice, his bones felt stiff. And there was no fWhip inside. So he slowly stepped out.

They have stopped in a small space by the mountain roads. He easily spotted fWhip. Bundled in yet another coat. Chastising some of his staff. Yawning, Scott stretched. His wings were rather awkward after this long without hiding. fWhip quickly was done with his chastising and turned. Quickly approaching Scott. He looked angry. 

"You should have waited inside," he huffed out with a puff of smoke. 

"Don't worry, I can't fly," Scott chuckled, stretching again. For some reason, he still felt damn stiff. 

fWhip sighed. "Stretch your wings too," he said, stretching his own. Scott sighed, if only fWhip let him use his concealment he'd be all fine. But mimicked fWhip's movements. And annoyingly it did feel better.

"Is it really that cold?" Scott asked. He himself was fine with just one coat and his uniform. And just then he remembered he was still in his military uniform and with his wounds not checked. "I think we should check my wounds," he said, a bit awkwardly."

fWhip's eyes went wide and he instantly jumped into getting a healer that accompanied them to look at Scott.

With his wounds fixed, and a bit comfier sitting position the rest of the journey was a bit more bearable. fWhip stayed mostly quiet, either sleeping or looking over papers crows delivered to him. Scott asked a few small questions here and there. Like if scales bothered fWhip. They didn't even if Scott was immensely bothered by his.

Once they crossed the border fWhip slept less, bundled up less, and grew touchy. And Scott grew indifferent to fWhip's bare hands on his arms, caressing random scales. And on what fWhip said was the last full day on the road the topic of their cycles came up again. 

"I've been thinking about something," fWhip hummed. Scott learned that the scary fWhip was a mask he put on to be a more respectable ruler. 'being an omega comes with some insecurities' fWhip said when Scott pointed out how much softer he was when they were alone. "About our cycles..."

Scott stiffened slightly. He didn't expect they'd be talking about this ever again. "What about our cycles?" he asked glancing at fWhip. Despite a slowly blossoming blush, he seemed serious.

"Well, I won't force you or anything like that but I think it would be best if we spend it together... Especially you first. I spent mine alone and it was terrible," fWhip said quickly, snappy, to the point.

"Together as in... like have sex?" Scott asked, part of him was freaking excited.

"Yes," fWhip practically squeaked out. His face was redder than his hair. Scott once more thought it was cute. Wasn't he technically a prisoner? Shouldn't he hate fWhip? But how can he with how cute fWhip was? Especially when rambling about something that interested him. Like when he explained his time-telling device. How it told time went totally above Scott's head but fWhip's face as he explained it was adorable.

Finding fWhip cute was one thing. But sleeping with him? Having sex with him? That was another thing. "I'll think about it?" was the best he could offer.

fWhip nodded. "That's fine, I can have a potion that mellows out the effects of it ready but I'm not sure it's a good idea for a first rut... especially considering your unique circumstances," he said, a bit less stiffly. 

Scott hummed and yawned. It was evening, sometime next morning they'd be arriving at fWhip's manor. So he leaned into his corner, relaxed and decided to try and sleep through as much of the rest of the ride as possible. Something seemed to push fWhip to do something he hadn't done before. The terrifying, explosion-loving, half-dragon Count of Grimlands curled up on the carriage bench and lay his head in Scott's lap. At first, Scott was shocked, but then he relaxed again and even started absently petting fWhip's hair. He was mindful of his horns. Based on his own limited experience the base of horns was a rather sensitive area.

The next morning Scott woke up to fWhip gently shaking him. "We there?" Scott asked, yawning, tempted to hug fWhip.

"Almost, just a couple more hours," fWhip hummed, sitting back. He had his usual heavy coat on. He did look really good in it, Scott thought as he yawned and blinked the last of his sleep away. Breakfast not on the road sounded really nice.

"Breakfast at home?" he asked, rolling his shoulders. Hopefully, Grimlands liked sweet things. 

"Sure," fWhip chuckled. "Anything specific? I'll be sending a message for everything to be readied," he asked with an amused smirk.

"Something sweet," Scott sighed. Might as well say it, he really wanted something sweet after rather bland on-the-road food.

fWhip laughed. Confusing Scott. What was so funny about him wanting sweets? "The scary General Scott of Rivendell wants sweets?" fWhip chuckled as Scott glared. 

"All elves like sweets," Scott huffed out in a poor attempt to defend himself. fWhip didn't comment more, instead turning Scott's attention to the views outside.

They were approaching a settlement. Rolling hills were slowly being replaced by fields and small villages and hamlets. It was all pretty nice and expected. Out of the Wither Rose Alliance, fWhip and Pearl's empires were known for farming. But Grimlands was also known for technology, explosives and mining. He could see something that looked like smoke in the distance as well. Could it be Grimlands capital, Eastvale? Possibly, they were going in vaguely that direction.

Another nice thing about Grimlands was... roads. The ride down the mountain peaks on which Scott's people lived was a shaky and relatively dangerous experience. fWhip was already planning on how to improve it. Pretty impressive actually. In Grimlands the ride was smooth over a paved main road through the whole empire. Yes, whole. Now that was really impressive. It had to take so many resources, manpower and gold to achieve. And yet fWhip was casually planning to make something like that up a mountain.

"It's quite picturesque, isn't it? Not what most people imagine an empire ran by me would look like," fWhip chuckled as Scott looked out wide-eyed. And he was right. Scott expected more mines and explosions and less... potato fields? "Grimlands isn't really known for our potatoes anymore. Just wait until you see the train. Sadly Gem and Pearl are a bit apprehensive about me connecting train tracks to them, they say it's a disaster waiting to happen and..."

Scott half listened to fWhip ramble about the absolute safety of his trains. Should he really be enjoying fWhip's voice and rambling this much? Should it bother him that he does? fWhip seemed to really care about his well-being. Not just his strategies, and skill with a sword. That was a nice change from his life so far. So with the slightest smile he kept looking at the rolling fields and listening to fWhip ramble about trains.

Scott listened to fWhip talk about Grimlands and all that changed since he became the Count. It all made little sense to Scott. All he knew about was warfare after all. Their arrival in Eastvale was also something new for Scott. In Rivendell, no one ever greeted him when he returned from campaigns. Victorious or not. Well, he was in a carriage with fWhip so it was him the citizens were greeting. But it still felt nice to see children run out of the nice houses lining the street. Dressed cleanly, some with messy hair. Followed by their mothers. Waving at the carriage. Throwing flowers.

"I wish they'd just ignore my carriage when I pass through," fWhip sighed, pushing as far back into his seat as he could. Scott chuckled. He could at least to himself admit he found fWhip cute. Saying it out loud was different. 

"Become elven Chief General then," Scott joked, still glancing out the window. Some children caught sight of him and stared with wide eyes.

"Scott... Really? You won their wars and no one even thanked you?" fWhip whined, clearly annoyed.

"I was told I did good, just wasn't greeted by crowds as soon as I returned. There were feasts to celebrate too," Scott shrugged and fell silent. He saw the biggest house in town. He knew fWhip didn't live or even have a castle. But his house was still pretty big. And pretty. Dark roof, light walls with dark shutters on the windows. Surrounded by a wall and flowers. And beyond the gate flowering hedges of black and red roses.

"Home sweet home," fWhip sighed as the gate closed behind them.

He wasted no time leaving the carriage as soon as it stopped. Scott following closely. He could fully understand fWhip's excitement to be done travelling for the time being. The staff were outside ready to greet their Count. His council as well. fWhip quickly jumped into being a responsible ruler and started catching up.

"Marriage? With..." one advisor gasped and Scott gave him a toothy grin. Everyone seemed a bit stiff at his presence. So fWhip didn't send a warning that he'd be bringing a future political husband along.

Scott looked about as fWhip argued with the advisors, clearly threatening them. Adorable. When something that could not be a usual occurrence caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He moved before he even fully processed what it was. Blocking a blade aimed at fWhip's throat with a summoned rune blade. The sound of steel clashing with magical ice had fWhip turn around. Eyes wide. 

"Scott!!!" fWhip's shout grounded Scott's brain. He just casually stopped an assassination attempt. And the only thing stopping him from killing the restrained by the guards would-be assassin was fWhip's arms wrapped around him. With a slow breath, Scott lowered his blade. His eyes remained on the assassin as they were being dragged away. fWhip's fast and snappy orders helped him calm down further. Just what has possessed him? "Where did you even get a sword from?"

"Rune knights can summon their blades at will," Scott shrugged, his heart was still beating so fast. To prove it he dismissed his blade and to gently, without really realising it check fWhip for any wounds.

"Stop it, I'm fine," fWhip huffed slapping Scott's hands away. "How can you just... Magic," fWhip grumbled. "Let's have breakfast, I'm hungry," he decided dragging Scott along.

Scott gladly let himself be dragged. Looking smugly at the advisors. Why? He had no clue, just felt like it. The bigger question was... Was his tail really wagging? He'd think about it later. When he wasn't busy staring at fWhip's hand, sadly back in his gloves, holding his wrist.

So busy he barely registered the interior of the mansion until he was pushed into a comfy chair upholstered with red and gold brocade. NIce contrast to dark woods and deep forest greens of the floors and wallpapers. A golden chandelier hung low over a table set with food. The last few maids set tea on it before retreating and leaving them alone. Scott was more than a bit miffed fWhip sat on the other side of the table. And tempted to move closer.

"What was that out in the courtyard?" fWhip asked with a heavy glare.

"No clue. One moment I was just standing there and the next blocking a blade, aimed at you mind you," Scott hummed looking over the food. It was quite a selection. Pastries, breads, cheeses, fruits, meats. And pancakes. And fruit. "As a rune knight I can't really be separated from my weapons," he added as fWhip continued glaring.

"Grand. Anything else I should know?" he asked, angrily buttering up a slice of bread.

Scott hummed. "I can use ice magic, all elves have some magic though," Scott hummed going instantly for the pancakes, whipped cream and berries. "And we all like sweets, Xor's the weirdo who's different," he added at the amused smirk fWhip's frown turned to.

"If you say so," he mused slowly peeling an egg. "Try the powdered sugar," he pointed to a container with a dainty sieve on top.

fWhip was right. He should have tried powdered sugar ages ago. It was amazing on his pancakes. The rest of the food was good as well. Especially everything sweet. Scott didn't expect Grimlands to have good desserts but fWhip's staff shocked him. Well, he didn't expect farmland as well.

"Is us just sharing a room too..." fWhip hummed and stopped, not sure what to name it.

"It's fine by me," Scott shrugged. He really didn't mind fWhip's company anymore. What wonders being locked in a carriage together for a few days can do? "We're getting married anyway," he half-joked. 

"Fine then, I have some stuff to do but I'll take you there, just rest for now," fWhip hummed, stretching as maids cleaned up the table.

"A bath maybe... Though I don't really have anything, you did decide to leave rather suddenly," Scott hummed. Nap in a proper bed sounded really nice.

"Just borrow my stuff for now," fWhip sighed as he stood up. Would it even fit? Scott wondered but didn't mention how different their statures were. "I'll take you to my tailor once I'm caught up on politics," he added leading Scott out the breakfast room - fWhip himself called it that.

fWhip's room was all nice and comfy, a bath as well. But after three days of not leaving it much Scott was beginning to feel a bit antsy. He was allowed to roam around the manor but not to leave it. And to not go to the basement workshop. Just to be safe and calm the council, fWhip said. Scott really didn't feel like a prisoner. Maids and kitchen staff were more than happy to provide him with cookies and drinks whenever he asked. He read a lot in fWhip's library. 

On the seventh day, Scott woke up feeling a weird warmth in the pit of his stomach. He instantly sat up to look for fWhip. Just to ask if it might be a dragon thing... like his rut.

fWhip was already up, struggling with a robe. Smelling really nice, his brain supplied. "fWhip... come back to the bed," Scott asked, instantly forgetting any and all questions he had. He had the biggest urge to just stay in bed with fWhip. Cuddling.

"Are you sure? I think my heat started, I don't want to force you if you..." fWhip mumbled, he sounded like he was in pain.

"Just come here... I think my rut's started too, I feel weirdly warm and want to cuddle you specifically," Scott confessed. Anything to get fWhip back in the bed. "Like really warm," Scott added, removing his sleep shirt. He was warm and it felt uncomfortable on his damned scales. And there were more of those than normal.

He missed fWhip giving up on the rope and just getting back into the bed. He didn't miss fWhip' hands on him. Gingerly tracing scales as he slowly cradled Scott's face. "Is it okay if I want you to kiss me?" the count asked but was already guiding Scott closer to his face. 

Scott was not in the right place to overthink so he just kissed fWhip. It was messy, rushed and inexperienced. And maybe Scott's first kiss ever. But it was the best first kiss he could ask for. Especially with fWhip instantly clinging to him, hands in his hair. Scott's hands around fWhip's waist.

Their kissing was interrupted by a knock on the door. fWhip whined hearing it, Scott growled. "One moment," fWhip grumbled, giving Scott a small kiss on the cheek and after wrapping himself in a blanket went to request their food is brought to them and that they be otherwise undisturbed for a few days.

 Scott could not tear his eyes off of fWhip. Growing strangely irritated with every second there was no distance between them. With whoever fWhip was talking to taking a whole lot of time to leave Scott left the bed, wrapped himself in a blanket and sneaked up on fWhip. "fWhip..." he whined just slightly as he wrapped himself around the count as well as he could. Glaring at the guard and advisor who dared take up fWhip's time.

His glare was enough to have them apologising and bowing and leaving while assuring everything would be handled while fWhip was indisposed. And Scott finally had fWhip all to himself and a good excuse to touch him a whole lot.

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Make sure to check out this beautiful art by @raven-cl and show it some love.

Dandelion Wishes - Chapter 15 of 15- Grow

Billy is not sure when it starts. Somehow carrying the little pot around with him just naturally morphs into talking to it like Steve is here and can hear him. He tells Steve about his day, things he has read, looking for a job, all of the mundane little things he can think of. 

On the rare occasions he does not have Steve right in his hands, Franklin will sometimes say something to the plant in private, begging for his son to return. Annette doesn't care if Billy is holding him, she will lean down face level with the slowly growing sprout and tell him things. There are a lot of “I love you” and “I miss you” and the occasional desperate plea of “please come back my little dandelion” that make Billy’s chest ache. 

Billy begs too, just at night when everyone else is asleep and the moon is the only thing letting him see the sprout. Tears rolling down his face as he kneels in front of the night stand, cheek pressed against it as he stares longingly. “Please come back to me. I’m sorry I pushed you away before. I just wanted you to be safe. I need you back, you’re supposed to stay with me forever, remember. You promised.” 

Billy has not missed anyone like this since his mother, and that thought just makes the tears come harder.

Read on Ao3

Please consider reblogging so it doenst just sit here collecting dust.

[spotsupstuff]

hi

you've mentioned that sparrows would have reincarnated as a slugcat?

would you mind elaborating on that?

also would they have met caper again after becoming all scuggy?

heehee

hoohoo hee :)c of course i'll elaborate! it is Her ✨ Fish's little best animal friend

wonderfully enough, Sparrows and the Tinkerer were developed completely removed from each other in my head, so Tinkerer still feels like a rather separate character from Sparrows even though they somehow wound up havin a lot of similiarities. exactly how the reincarnation stuff should feel like

the Tinkerer is Sparrows! and no character in-universe will ever find out. it isn't important. nobody but Tinkerer is affected by this, and Tinktink doesn't really have the means to speak about it. but for us behind the screens that know about this it will make Tinktink's interactions with the world just a lil bit more juicy

you've sent this at a good time, too! the day ur question came in i was actually pondering how to somehow make use of this reincarnation fact and not just let it float about as a lil bonus for the people that would know about this lil tiny ultimately unimportant connection

so, the idea: as we (probably) all know, Euros is going to end up developing the Rot. this is distressing for a large amount of reasons, but the main point rn is that Euros is also a secret archive of folklore of the lower circles in the Eo group, plus maybe even a little bit over the range's borders to the east (after all, there's two more groups right next door to him n he's a phone operator chief). Euros is going to die a slow painful death and he won't be able to care for or save his collection of knowledge, which somehow manages to hurt him more than the reality of his impending doom

maybe not so surprising, considering that in his archive are the stories, the history, the spirit of his late lover's home- a place he clung to for as long as he could, the one he spent the most time in with his overseers, the one that held people he constantly wished could be his citizens instead of the vile and fake *things* soiling the streets of Ales

so one day after the Fish has properly reconnected to the Eo group, is caught up on current events and trying his *damnest* to revive Mission Self-preservation even though it is guaranteed to be useless, Euros mentions the nightmare that he's living through

"I'm a dead man walking, carrying precious treasures of people that were never heard crying out. I've held them close and safely within myself for over two thousand years. And now, when I'm fated to rot through and splatter on the ground, I fear all this time will be for nought. That I will kill what I've been protecting for so long."

"Even if nobody ever reads these- learns of them, hears them out from above their graves- I can't bear the thought of losing them."

and well Fish DOES have a lot of beef with Euros, but at this point this bitterness is starting to give away to desperation and horror of the terrible torment waiting for them in the future. he might be stubbornly still trying with the Mission, but he would go against what makes him himself if he didn't acknowledge that they are all damned for good no matter what he tries. so he gives in to the pity and hails Tinkerer to his chamber

he explains to her what he needs her to do and tells Euros about the plan. Tinktink has to travel all of this distance

to get to Euros (basically walk through the whole Europe), but dammit, she helped one Iterator that became her closest friend, she will help another one (a different Gen 2 that she loved and dedicated her whole life to in a different life)

Fish sends her on her way with a hug and a plead to keep herself safe

it takes her over a month to get there even with the help of vehicles like the barely working trains and a remshackle sky-sail that Fish guided her through fixing in their free time together. when she gets on top of Euros' structure, the dejavus start to hit. she visits the Mechanics' home, her feet carrying her to the bedroom as if it was just another end of the workshift. she looks in the cupboards she- opened millions of times- never even touched. she walks outside and then down the path to the entrance into the Iterator she's- taken countless times- never set a foot on

she saw these halls so many times she can pin point where every screw is- she's never been here, she can't understand these giant beings, they are too complex for her animal brain. that specific rhythm of beeps and pumps and water rushing through metal veins has haunted- comforted- her in many of her dreams. the Tinkerer makes it to the chamber almost like on an auto-pilot

when she enters the chamber, the slugcat finds itself disappointed, scared, confused- this isn't what this place is supposed to look like (but how does she know what it is supposed to look like-?), this isn't how she left it (this is the first time she stands here, what are these thoughts). it's supposed to be brighter. warmer. why is the puppet's plating and skin damaged by time, where is it its vibrancy, why are its eyes so tired? there are panels missing from the walls ("it's got to be the results of that Fever i once made a proj- i can fix thi-! what?"), glowing artificial bronze robins fly about or sleeping on his shoulders, tiny Rot cysts pulsate from the cracks in the umbilical arm. where has the firebird in that halo gone off to?

Euros greets her joyfully ("oh what are you trying to play at, you goof. i've known you for so long, i can tell when something's wrong. what's hurting? why are you tired? i'll get you back into shape, doncha worry love.")

"Ah, you made it! Welcome to my chamber, adroit little thing."

"Please. Your journey was a long one. I hold no doubt a very dangerous one, too. I won't march you into the job immediately. Rest up."

Tinkerer thinks he's strange. but her legs are indeed hurting, the bag strapped to her is heavy. she curls up in the corner of the room and tries to get some shut eye. she almost falls asleep when Euros starts mumbling under his breath, shooting nervous glances towards the birds. five fingered hands tremble so badly the joints rattle like a child's toy. he's scary, when his shoulders hunch up like that and those tired eyes turn frantic. but it hurts so much to see him like that for some reason, more so than it is scary. so against the better judgement of a survivor, she softly coos at him

the puppet's head snaps to her, gaze cold. the mumbles increase in volume, allowing her to understand

"...I'll tell you what. I have another mission for you, little messenger. But it has to stay a secret between the two of us. Nobody would approve, especially not the one you belong to now."

something whispers that the puppet closing in is supposed to be a comfort. the larger part of the Tinkerer instead finds itself wishing to run away

"Are you aware of the Memory Crypts that lie beneath all of us City Bearers?"

cautious nod, back pressed against the wall

"Good."

[undeadboyfriendsupportgroup]

Throwing in some headcanons for the season 1 Archive gang

(As always, these are just silly goofy fun, not meant to invalidate anyone's characterization of the archive folks, we're in season 3 so if any of these contradict with canon, it's probably bc of that or memory failing us/personal preference sooooo, lesgo)

cw: alcohol (very lightly mentioned) and spiders

Jon:

-Jon tends to wander when drunk, it's a good idea to keep an eye on him. He's gotten lost in campus during his college days but always comes back unharmed (somehow).

-He thought his grandmother made up grass allergies to keep him from getting into dangerous places as a kid but his family has a genetic grass allergy, nothing fatal but recently cut grass does make him v itchy when it touches bare skin.

-He uses pen grips, i think he's developing arthritis so he owns some comfortable rubber ones. There are a few bite marks on em, but if you confront him he will gaslight you

-Jon's bones also crack very easily, when he gets up you can hear it. It gets worse throughout the seasons

-Jon uses transparent nail polish. He started doing it to avoid nail biting but started the habit of chipping it off. In college he wore colored nail polish but he ditched bc he doesn't consider it v professional on himself.

-He's a responsible sunscreen user, he applies it whenever he needs to be outside but he uses a regular drugstore one since i don't think he believes in skincare being a thing. IN THE SAME VEIN: he doesn't think that body wash works, he only believes in soap.

-He had a bowlcut as a kid.

-He gets shorter by 1 inch per season.

-Jon, even though very good with tech, prefers to do things on paper because he likes the feeling. He prefers pencils over pens, but uses pens because they are more professional

-Jon would love smash burgers, i'm not giving more context.

Sasha:

-Sash started training a couple years ago to improve her posture (she tended to go shrimp while doing deskwork) and now she could crush a lemon with a single hand. She and Tim go to the gym sometimes and she can lift way more than him

-To counteract the smash burger hc above, she would love Shake Shack.

-She's scored pretty high on IQ tests every time she has to take them but she doesn't believe in their validity.

-She used to go spelunking on internet forums a lot.

-I think she would have enjoyed well planned ARGs and things that involved solving mysteries before it became her full-time job to deal with horrors.

-Sasha owns comfy shoes she wears in the office. Wearing heels during a whole workday isn't worth it and she knows this.

-Shes a bit of a stationary fan, she would have all of the really nice highlighters and notebooks

-She chews her lips pretty often, especially when she wears nice chap sticks

-She likes furbies.

Tim:

-He hates furbies and dolls, truth be told it is more fear than hatred.

-He's been on commercials as a kid at least once. Somewhere on youtube there's a bubblegum commercial with a preteen Tim on it and Jon found it while looking for background info about nearly everyone in the archives in season 2.

-Tim has a small collection of fucked up Rubik cubes. He has a knack for solving them, the more alien-looking, the better. He finds solving puzzles stimulating but also gets fed up with them easily. Having something to do with his hands helps him think.

-He's an excellent draftsman, took an art course pre college and he indulges in it every now and then. He has no issues with people looking through his sketchbooks and all of the building facade sketches he has there. He's the kinda guy to sketch random people he sees in public and all of the archives gang has been drawn by him before

-He would love cockatiels, but he doesn't own any animals. He birdwatches quite a bit and has books/a special sketchbook just for birds/landscapes. He also purple columbine flowers, even though he is really bad with plants. He's foraged before but he ended up in emergency care bc he fucked with something he shouldn't have XD

-Tim got his tongue pierced some time ago, it suits him well.

-Will absolutely WRECK you in karaoke and then act like he isn't that good after (he was a theater kid)

-He's the most seasoned traveler among everyone in the archives. Tim's ideal vacay would be going around the world

-He would have enjoyed streaming games as a hobby (am i bringing up Mike LeBeau? probably. In a different world we would have Tim playing The Sims 2 with all of the mods on Twitch). He's also had pink hair before!!

Martin:

-He's a bit of a polyglot to me (so far The Eye makes you understand other languages but it doesn't give you proficency over them! That's all his own talent)

-Mart's worked at a blu-ray rental before the Institute. He came out of that job decently well-versed in 80's-90's movies. He's the opposite of a film snob and probably loves The Princess Bride and other bangers

-Martin's the kind of person that would cut an apple for you but he'd eat a tangerine with the rind on without hesitating. After you have a fight with him he brings you cut fruits and crackers

-He also writes prose and has finished nanowrimo during company time.

-Martin wears graphic tees under shirts under sweaters at work, but for very nerdy and obscure things

-Martin does the little dinosaur hand things often when he is walking, heh

-He's kept house spiders in glass jars with little holes and fed them bugs. Many of those spiders gave birth inside those jars. He's moved places a couple times as a kid so he's probably responsible of scaring a landlord or two by greeting them with a roomful of spider jars (and it was deserved).

-Martin owns tea pets!! He shares a cuppa with them every now n then

[strawwritesfic]

Kyoya Ootori x Female!Reader: Soul

Summary: It was supposed to be the best day of your life.

Rating/Tags: All (The Glorious War of Sisterly Rivalry; older sister!Reader; Reader & Original Character; Kyoya & the Host Club; established Kyoya/Reader; Ouran High School Student!Reader; breakup; no honorifics; Kyoya/Reader/Original Character)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​​

Soul

It was supposed to be the best day of your entire life. Admittedly, that wasn't saying all that much, since you were only in high school, but you still awoke with a flurry of excitement the moment your mother's maid slipped into your bedroom to pull the curtains back. From that moment on, everything went just as it should have: your favorite tea delivered before you could think of getting out of bed, the sun shining bright in a cloudless blue sky straight into your bedroom, and bird song drifting inside with the flower-scented breeze. You had nowhere to be and nothing to do until that evening, and spent a delightful day watching the world prepare for you to take center stage.

Two hours before that happy time, you finally slipped into your bathroom to get yourself ready for that night.

"I don't see why they're making all this fuss about you," your younger sister observed sullenly from her perch on the (obviously closed) toilet.

Normally you did not allow Kita in to watch your makeup routine, but after her fifth fight with your mother that day, you'd practically been assigned babysitting duty. This was not an ideal situation for the best day of your life. A glance in your mirror showed you Kita's usually dour expression directed toward you. Well, it was your day, not hers. She was understandably jealous. You decided to be magnanimous, rather than let something like her attitude ruin your mood.

"It's a celebration," you answered, without remarking upon how her expression would prematurely wrinkle her features. After all, you were the one that would need to remain "dewy and youthful" for as long as possible.

So far, judging by your reflection, you were managing just fine, though your hair could use some work. For once, you were out of your gaudy Ouran Academy uniform, and you wanted to radiate beauty from every angle--something all the easier to achieve when your only competition was Kita's scowl.

She did not answer, which you counted as a point in your favor. If she was done pouting, perhaps you could get some work done. You pulled open a drawer to reveal a painstakingly organized rainbow of makeup products inside. The decision of what foundation to start with was just forming in your mind when Kita decided to interrupt again:

"Yeah, but what are we supposed to be celebrating?"

Your eyes shut as you gave in to temptation and let out a sigh. Then you turned, hands on your hips, to explain to her what she ought to already have known: "We're celebrating," you answered in tones of forced patience, "because my new makeup line has outsold all of Father's since it was released."

This only caused her to draw her knees to her chest and glare at the floor. She looked like some disgusting, puffed-up bird that made its home in toilets, and somehow she didn't care. You would never understand your little sister.

"Still don't see what that has to do with you," she muttered.

Another sigh escaped you, this one not so well hidden. "I designed it."

"So? I could do that. I have done that. Not that anyone around here cares what I do."

You shook your head and returned to the mirror to apply your selected foundation. Kita's argument was not one you wanted to have again, not that day.

Your family business was makeup--high-end makeup, though you hoped to change that soon. As the eldest child, you would inherit the company upon your parents' deaths, while Kita got…well, money enough to get by, you supposed.

It wasn't a situation you could change, nor would you if you could have. You liked putting things together, liked figuring out solutions to problems, liked figuring out the best lighting to show off a model's cheekbones. There was no use listening to your sister whine about it all night. Hopefully she'd get over it before the guests arrived.

"Besides," Kita went on, so quietly that someone that didn't know her well might have thought you weren't supposed to hear, "your success has nothing to do with you. I could sell a ton of mascara, too, if I had your boyfriend."

You gaped at her reflection. "Kita, how can you say that? I've worked so hard to--"

"You have not. It's all Ootori's doing. Everyone knows it. You couldn't even get Mom to try your stuff before you got him to do your work for you."

Now it would be impossible to apply your blush properly, your body was making so much of its own. "Just because you're jealous-"

"Jealous? Of what?" Kita demanded, hot-faced herself. "You not being able to do anything without hanging off Ootori?"

"That isn't true, Kita!"

"Yes, it is! I don't even see what he sees in you, you're so useless!"

Tears threatened to undo what work you had done on your face. Up until recently, you and your sister had got along well. Then she had started at Ouran and, like all the girls there--including yourself, you couldn't forget--had fallen head over heels for the Host Club. A particular member of the Host Club. Your member of the Host Club.

Ever since she'd met Kyoya, Kita had done a complete one-eighty. Now she refused to help you with figures or advertisements, barely talked to you at family events, and had even started following your boyfriend around whenever he visited. Your parents told you that she was young and that you shouldn't take it so personally, but it was hard to be understanding when she talked like this.

"Get out of my room," you said.

Kita scrambled to her feet only to get right in your face. "I won't! I'm tired of giving up everything just because you're older!"

"If you don't get out of here, I'll tell Mom."

"Go ahead! You're the favorite, aren't you? You got your boyfriend to make sure that Mom and Dad love you most!"

"Kita--"

But it seemed now was the time she had chosen to say everything that had been on her mind since the day she stopped talking to you except to make snide remarks about the state of your clothes. "Mom and Dad love you. The teachers love you. Ootori loves you. You think you're so great. Well, I could do everything you do if someone gave me the chance. You get everything, and I get nothing!"

Now Kita was crying in earnest, her tear-streaked face as blotchy as yours felt. Despite everything--her constant hogging of Kyoya's time whenever she visited the Host Club, her attempts to embarrass you in front of your friends, even her constant asides about your average grades--you felt for her. Before you could attempt to say anything to patch things up, however, someone outside the bathroom cleared their throat.

Both you and your sister looked wildly around. There, standing in your bedroom a few feet away from the open bathroom door, stood Kyoya Ootori, the love of both your lives. He looked particularly dapper that afternoon in the suit he'd put on for the party. Of course, Kyoya always looked dapper.

Kita froze, but you remembered your manners.

"Kyoya!" you said brightly.

"[Name]," he said, then nodded at the mortified girl at your side. "[L Name]."

Kita made a very short, high-pitched sound in response. You suspected that she, like you, was wondering how much of your argument he had overheard. Fortunately, Kyoya was a gentleman. He said nothing as he extended one hand toward you.

"Would you join me for a walk?" he asked.

As usual, Kyoya's attention to you caused butterflies to explode into being inside your stomach. "I'm-I'm not quite ready," you said, torn between embarrassment at Kyoya seeing your natural features exposed like this, and your desire to follow him anywhere--even to the ends of the earth, so long as your sister didn't follow.

"I'll go," she said eagerly.

Kyoya did not spare her a glance, his gaze steady upon you. "I'll only keep you for a few minutes," he promised. "I'll have you back in time for the party."

"O-Okay,” you said.

You stepped away from the mirror and into your bedroom to take Kyoya's hand. With your arm in his, the two of you left Kita behind. Her glower followed you all the way out the door. What, did she expect you to let her occupy your boyfriend all night? He was far too mature to deal with a first year dragging him around for hours.

Kita and her bad manners were behind you now. Once Kyoya had led you out into the nearly-finished garden, you took a deep breath. The heady scent of hundreds of flowers made your head swim pleasantly. A walk with your boyfriend was just what the doctor ordered. You were happy enough to bob along at his side until it struck you how quiet he was being.

"Kyo? Is something wrong?" You leaned forward a little to frown up at him.

His dark eyes slid away from one of the chefs setting up a plate of otoro and onto you. "Why should anything be wrong?" he asked, and followed his question with one his rare smiles.

You could still remember the first time he had graced you with one of those smiles. Not a hoard of fellow students requesting his time at the Host Club. Not at some public event where your two families had to make nice. No, he had stopped you after arithmetic one day outside of class. Far at the end of the hall, you could see the heads of all six of his friends poking around the corner, the twins grinning as usual while the rest attempted to hide. You hadn't thought anything of their presence until Kyoya said:

"What would you say to getting dinner with me this weekend?"

You had laughed. “You mean for some Host Club event?"

“I don't see why I should ask by myself if I meant to bring them along. They'll likely show up anyway, but I intended the invitation to be for you alone.”

The blood ran from your face, then flooded back into it. You stole a glance toward the other hosts to see Hikaru (or was it Kaoru?) snickering openly. "Very funny, Ootori.”

"Well, if you aren't interested…" He turned to leave, but your curiosity got the best of you.

"Wait!" You had almost had the audacity to grab his shoulder. Luckily, Kyoya turned around first, a politely disinterested look upon his face. "Why me?"

"False modesty does not become you." You opened your mouth to protest that there was nothing false about it, but Kyoya went on, "Your family business has potential that I am interested in. You always request me during your visits to the Host Club. If it benefits both of us, why not spend more time together outside of school?"

You had not been able to speak. The Ootori family's system of companies was much bigger than the one your family owned, and yet Kyoya saw potential in it. He saw potential in you. After a moment, you nodded.

"Good. I'll pick you up at seven this Saturday. Here's my number, in case you need to cancel."

Wordlessly, your fingers wrapped around the scrap of paper he held out. Your heart beat like the wings of your pet canary. He offered you a shallow, chivalrous bow, then headed off to his friends, all of whom hastily ducked out of sight when they saw him coming.

You had not truthfully expected Kyoya to show up that Saturday, so you had not told your family to expect company. He was not the kind of boy to play heartless jokes on young women (especially regular patrons of the Host Club), but he could easily change his mind about being seen in public with one such as you. Show up he had, though, and since then, you had been in a whirlwind of dinner dates, weekend trips, and late nights of working on one company project or another.

Once such late night, you had awoken to find your head in his lap, his fingers gently fiddling with your hair while he frowned at some scrap of business. Kyoya was not the most openly affection of boyfriends, but you were over the moon. Outside of Kita's open jealousy and your having to share your boyfriend with every girl in school during Host Club hours, you couldn't have been happier.

"[Name]?" his voice came from afar.

"Hmmm?" you said dreamily as you returned to the present. It didn't take long for you to remember that you were supposed to be worried about him. "S-sorry. Did you say something?"

Kyoya didn't miss a beat. "I was saying that your sister was very accommodating this afternoon."

"Accommodating?" You threw him a look.

Kyoya's eyes remained on the garden path. "Yes. She offered to keep me company while I waited for you, then graciously allowed me to steal you away from her."

Now you looked behind yourself, half-expecting to see Kita lurking somewhere inside the house with her face pressed to the glass to watch your walk.

"She can be very accommodating," you said with forced civility, "when she has the incentive." That incentive being to steal your boyfriend, which wasn't something she would be able to manage anyway.

"It was quite kind of her, and she's very civil when she requests my time at the Host Club."

You were sure she was. Seeing as you could not buy up all of Kyoya's time with your allowance, you spent most of your own in the Host Club reading--or rather, pretending to read while watching all the girls swoon over what was rightfully yours. Kita especially made sure you were watching whenever she fawned over him. Knowing his job was to be polite and charming was the only thing that got you through. You'd never have expected him to notice those other girls, especially not your baby sister.

"I don't want to talk about Kita," you announced, tugging him closer. "It's not her day. It's mine."

"Speaking of your sister's admirable qualities does not diminish your own."

You eyed him suspiciously. That line was one you'd heard him use on dozens of girls throughout the years, but never on you. "Let's talk about something more interesting. Like the announcement that we're making tonight in front of my parents and everyone."

The emphasis on we're did seem to get Kyoya's attention. He loved business propositions, after all. This time, you noticed, his reaction was not the same as usual. Rather than launch into his plan to make sure the announcement went off without a hitch, he stopped right there in the middle of the path. Before you could ask again what was wrong, he finally looked at you.

"I won't be making any announcements tonight," he said.

For a moment, all you could was stare at him. Then you giggled, and stepped in front of him to take his hands. "What are you talking about? It was all your idea! They're sure to take the idea of selling makeup to peasants well if you bring it up."

"You'll have to tell them yourself."

"Why?"

He fell silent for a while before he slowly looked away from you again. It seemed as though whatever he had to tell you was very difficult for him--and you had never seen Kyoya have difficulty with anything before, except in dealing Tamaki's flightier ideas.

"I will not be involved with [L Name] Cosmetics anymore. Not officially." Though you did not understand why, your heart beat tremendously in your chest. His eyes flashed behind his glasses even as his hands sat limp in yours. "For the past eight months, I have done my best to see your company grow. Now I realize that all that has been a waste of time. It will never grow to its full potential with you at the head."

Your eyes burned with the effort of holding back tears. Wildly, you shook your head in the hopes he wouldn't notice how close you were to breaking. Had he heard Kita's accusations from earlier? Did he believe them?

"That's not true! It has grown. That's what tonight is all about! And I know it will continue to grow if you're still here to help me," you said.

His voice was flat, void of all emotion, when he replied, "The head of a business should be able to run her own company."

You were upset, that much was clear. Nevertheless, you weren't quite crying yet. Kyoya wouldn't say these things to you and mean them. He loved you. He'd told you so. You refused to believe that he really thought you were that stupid because of something Kita had said in the heat of anger.

"Why are you telling me this?" you demanded, voice shaking.

"Because it is true," he answered, but as he did, he continued to look away.

That caused you to snap. You let go of his hands and rushed over to shove yourself right in front of his eyes.

"If you think that I somehow tricked you into this because of what Kita was shouting earlier today, that's ridiculous! You asked me out. I—I admit that I still have a lot to learn, but I can learn when you're with me. Please don't do this.” Not that Kyoya had come to the point of breaking up with you, but no matter what certain individuals thought of your intelligence, you could see what was coming a mile away.

His eyes remained staring at something beyond your shoulder for a long time. Then they met yours, and he answered coldly, "this was only ever a business arrangement. I was under the impression that you understood that from the beginning. There will be no future for [L Name] Cosmetics underneath you, so I am no longer interested in you."

You gasped. A parade of images flooded your mind: Kyoya smiling at you over the heads of a gaggle of Host Club girls; Kyoya taking your hand to move a pencil inside it across the page; Kyoya kissing you on the lips for the first time the night he met your parents. He could be cold. He could be distant. But he was never cruel. You felt as though he'd slipped a dagger into your very soul.

"Tell me the truth!" you shouted, hands balled at your sides. Your temper did not faze him.

"Believe what you want." He pushed his glasses up his nose and turned back toward the house. "Your company's future is no longer of any concern to me, and I suppose it was foolish to think it ever was." He fell silent again, this time staring at his feet. Then he spoke again, his voice quiet, "It has been suggested that your sister would be a more prudent match for a third son such as myself.”

Your mouth fell open as your stomach dropped. "Who-"

Just like that, his manner changed again. "I happen to agree. I don't think I will have much trouble convincing her to date me in your stead, do you? After all, she was so accommodating this afternoon."

Kita? You gazed at Kyoya's back with an expression of absolute horror. This couldn't be happening. Any day of the week, you wouldn't have believed him capable of breaking up with you in such a manner, but on the best day of your life? Moreover, so that he could date foul-mannered, ill-tempered, conceited Kita of all people?

"You can't!" you said, running after him. This time, you did grab his shoulder.

"I can and I will." His blank features faded somewhat as he looked back at your stricken form. "Goodbye, [Name]. I suppose I'll be seeing you again shortly."

He bowed once more before he left. You stared after him, aghast. Kita, your sister, your rival, would find nothing wrong in accepting your ex as a suitor. She'd see it as some sort of karmic payback for you stealing her spotlight. If she could not have your company, she would at the very least have the man you loved.

From behind you came the swelling of the orchestra signaling the start of your party, but it was not to your bathroom to finish getting ready that you ran. No, you sped away to hide yourself deep in the most distant topiary to cry. Kita had said you had everything and she had nothing, but just then you would have given up everything promised to you just to have Kyoya back.

It was supposed to be the best day of your life.

[healerelowen]

Pookie I readed ur P03 x robot reader fic I lofed it. What about Archivist with a robot reader,,,, or even a computer reader even that would be so cool,,,(take ur time u dont have to write it if u dont want to ofc❤️)

Funny that you’re the first person to call me pookie/lh

I don’t mind <3

Anyway yess more robot partner

✦Archivist with a Robot/Computer partner✦

—

Archivist is delighted to have a robotic partner. Not that she’s particularly picky when it comes to species, but it is helpful to have a partner who understands what it means to be technology. Now you and her can share similar experiences, last with each other much longer, and can overall do more together. She’s glad to have company outside of her librarians, as much as she loves them all dearly. 

  One of her favorite things to do with her bots is preening them! She’s highly affectionate and loves to preen any and all close to her, platonic or romantic. So she would’ve established her affections long before any romance started picking up speed. Once it does however, it doesn’t change that much other than more genuine touches than usual. 

She would be elated if you preened her in return, as she always enjoys it whenever her librarians do it, which is frequently. To have her partner do it would be more of a sweet gesture in her eyes. Especially as you both talk to each other as you preen one another, simply chatting about whatever comes about while showing your gratitude for each other in actions rather than words.

However, for the computer reader, she knows that your abilities are limited. However, that does not stop her love and affections whatsoever. In fact, she’ll be fascinated by you! You’re able to connect to the web and search for all this knowledge all around the globe, and that amazes her to no end. Archivist will even call you her secondary archivist due to your immense amounts of knowledge and data that you’re able to collect and store within your database. 

She is also sure to be careful when giving affection. Depending on the size of the computer, she could either match your size or be able to squish you flat like a pancake. So she tries to be careful when she can. 

Although, she has no issue building little places for you to be. More often than not, she’ll make them where she visits frequently, mostly so you can talk to her while she works. She really enjoys it whenever you do that. She also builds a few up and about the Scrapyard so you can look around outside as well. 

If she is too busy to routinely check up on you, she’ll send her librarians to do so and then report back to her. Archivist wants to make sure you’re functioning properly at all times.

Speaking of which, Archivist will help you with any and all maintenance! She most likely will somehow have a copy of your blueprints in her archive so she has a guide as to what would need fixing and how to go about it. She would also have her librarians assist as well should it be a more complex job. 

She praises you like no other, as if you were the one to be worshiped within the Scrapyard. Archivist even advises her librarians to give praise to you as well! You may as well be another God to them just as much as the Archivist is. She adores seeing you get all flustered with it all, finding it very endearing. She tuts you if you try to shift the focus back to her, lightheartedly correcting you to stir in the right direction. Her secondary archivist only deserves the best praise~ 

 Overall, she enjoys having a partner who understands what it’s like being a bot. While there are certain experiences unique to both beast and technology, Archivist is at least glad for slightly more convenience. But of course, she loves her little bot so much more than any creature could ever know.

[pregnantseinfeld]

I believe that I made a post like this last year (though i can't find it because of how bad tumblr's search feature is), so here are some books I read in 2022 that I'd recommend!

Black Reconstruction in America By W.E.B. Du Bois

I started this in late 2021. It's a big thorough book but this is so it can carefully dispel every myth about the period, while also using these details to demonstrate a bigger picture: revealing just how much was gained in a short time, and how massive a squandered opportunity it's end represented. I'll have to write more about this sometime because this history is so engrossing that even seemingly minor tangents it takes somehow made me drastically rethink aspects of present day politics. (pdf)

Capital Volume 1 by Karl Marx

Another tough one I'd started the year prior, I don't want to scare anyone off but I suggest looking into some kind of supplementary material online when tackling it. There's not much I can say that others haven't of course, so I'll leave it at this, once I put in the effort and it clicked, I felt... It's as if somebody told you just now for the first time that living things are made up of cells. I hope that makes sense. (pdf)

Open Veins of Latin America by Eduardo Galeano

Read this one feverishly, it never hit me until this book how little I knew about this huge portion of the world. While as a historical text it is great, it's also is an excellent teacher on subjects like resource extraction and underdevelopment by using concrete examples. It builds a foundation to understanding the ways"wealthy" countries exploit "poor" ones. (pdf)

The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber and David Wengrow

As the fear around climate change understandably mounts there is also a growing need to combat eco-fascist rhetoric. This book takes on the misconception that the day we planted too many seeds in one place we became doomed to an unavoidable demise by offering interesting examples from our extremely long journey as a species. It's a book about how much more complicated we are, and how many unique directions we've taken. We are far from predestined for failure because of Mesopotamian farmers. (pdf)

Other Honorable Mentions!

Blackshirts and Reds by Michael Parenti (pdf) is a quick read and offered worthwhile new insights I hadn't considered, even if I was spoiled on the coolest passages from years of them floating around tumblr. A James Connolly Reader edited by Shaun Harkin is a great collection that got me really into Irish revolutionary and socialist James Connolly who was extraordinarily insightful and is not talked about enough!!! Since I cant find the book itself here's an online collection of his writing. Lastly Shame and Endurance by H. Henrietta Stockel (internet archives) is an account of the Chiricahua Apache's 27 years of imprisonment, a too often overlooked atrocity, that uses sources from this time period to document just how obviously observably cruel this situation was.

[octahedral-chaos]

Alright, let me start with Creulty, Mercy and Fate.

These three lived in a World when their Creator was just starting out. They all were personifications of something, but they didn’t know what. Anyway, shit happened and it caused Cruelty to go AWOL and be the Villain. Years passed and Mercy brought them all back together again. By this point Mercy and Fate were married, and Cruelty still hates Fate. More time passed and more shit happened. Cruelty was the first and last to die. Soon the other two ascended, alive. Mercy had a field day yelling at their sibling and spouse. Scolding them for their long held grudge like a parent scolding children. Even if Cruelty was older than Mercy.

Diamond (Dia) Wynter’s story takes place when Cruelty’s Creator died a second time and took in the title of Queen Regent. By this point in time the Queen Regent is considered dead but still wanted by the Archive. A criminal. Anyway, Dia is the product of three fandoms based in Minecraft with more sprinkled in. She ties a whole lot of lore together and I mean A LOT. Anyway she is as tall as a baby zombie, and she only has one parent. She’s born of a Rebirth Nexus. Time travel and chaos is a daily thing with her family. And she is more of a catalyst for character arcs, she does have her own, but it happens off screen somewhere in the six book story. (If you want to know more ask me, I broke my friend trying to explain everything.)

Valorant █████████ ███████████’s story takes place after Dia’s. By this point the Creator has been revived and goes by a new title. The Queen Eternal. And the Queen Eternal, is insane. Valorant is very aware of the Queen Eternal, and that she herself is a fractured part of the Queen Eternal. Anyway, Valorant is dealing with anger issues and help lead a revolution while trying not to blow everything up to kingdom come. She is also born by Rebirth Nexus.

By the time Valorant’s story ends, Cruelty, Dia and Valorant are somehow teleported into the World of the Archive. They were summoned by the Archive itself to hunt down the Mad Queen of Eternal and put a stop to her. The Queen Eternal has been shutting down the Archive too much and causing general chaos. The Queen Eternal has been banned from any major Domains (fandoms), so she’s been bidding her time in smaller Domains (fandoms). They don’t know what she��s planning. But one things for sure. They need to get the Queen Eternal back to sane. When the Queen Eternal first entered the Archive, she died in the real world. Most Creators end up in a sub space where they can view timelines of other Worlds. Or make a new timeline via Divergence. This place is called the Archive. Accessible through life and death. But then it started to shut down. A Creator by the name of Tori was responsible for that. Soon Guardians of the Archive started ti hunt her down. She died before they could catch her. And then Dia’s story happened, then Valorant’s. It is hypothesized that the Queen Eternal went insane was because her first World she made, not diverged, caused her remaining soul to fracture and break after it collapsed. Becoming individual beings. Beings that became Cruelty, Dia and Valorant. Eventually, the Queen Eternal became Tori again.

Fractured still, but whole. Sane.

After that, the events of When Stars Fall happened.

(pls ask questions, they help)

Holy cow! This is intriguing!

So Valorant is basically a shard of a god? And the Archive are basically the entire collection of Fandoms? That's really cool!

[duck-in-a-spaceship]

It took me a while, but the next chapter of Pages Dog-Eared, Margins Filled is indeed up. This is the second to last one, and hopefully it's worth the wait!

Chapter text below the cut

The music fell over Neil in waves, notes washing over him, sweeping away the outside world in their tides. He imagined the ocean dancing with itself, two watery figures in moonlight that illuminated them from the inside out. He didn’t actually know any dances, at least not the kind he imagined the two figures doing, but that didn’t really matter, he found, because the music took the steps for him, helped his dancers find their feet.

Then the bell rang, chiming out through all of Welton, and a wave crashed over Neil’s dancers.

He heard the gentle shuffling around him, and figured his classmates were all pulling off their blindfolds, starting to gather their things, but Neil stayed right where he was. Keating stopped the music, fully severing the daydream but… Neil didn’t want to leave quite yet.

“That’s it for today boys,” Keating told them, and Neil listened as everyone began to rise to their feet, collecting their things, chatting amongst themselves as they headed out the door. He didn’t need to watch, didn’t need to do anything, really. Just listen.

The shuffling receded, footsteps carrying themselves away, and finally the clamor in the hallway was muffled as (Neil figured) the last person let the door close behind them.

Suddenly, it was just Neil left. Well, Neil and Keating, he assumed. That was all he could do, afterall, assume, and that was kind of nice too. No need to be right, no way to be wrong, because he had no way of knowing what the truth was. He could just guess, and go from there.

Neil heard Keating settle on the desk in front of him, and he slowly took off the blindfold, let its darkness fall away.

“Decided to take a little nap there?” Keating asked.

Neil smiled, chuckled a little at the joke. “No sir,” he assured. “I was paying attention. I just, uh, wasn’t ready to go to my next class yet, I guess.”

“Well, from some of the time I’ve had to spend interacting with my fellow colleagues, I can’t say I blame you, Mr. Perry.” He winked there, and Neil grinned widely. “But, I don’t think I’d be the best teacher if I encouraged truancy, so I should suggest you get to class.”

Neil fiddled with the edges of his blindfold, tapping his energy out on the side of the desk. “Well, what if we had to talk about something for class?” he asked. “That would be okay, right? You could give me a note or something for Dr. Hager?”

Keating raised an eyebrow, seemingly considering his offer. Neil raised his eyebrows in return (he didn’t think he could get just one up) and Keating chuckled. “I suppose I could let you be a little late, if you do need to discuss your coursework, of course.”

Neil nodded eagerly. “Actually, I have been wanting to ask you if you have any poetry recommendations?”

Keating looked at him with a sort of surprised expression, before smiling wryly. “How interesting,” he remarked casually. “Mr. Anderson had the same question for me not even a week ago.”

Warmth flushed up Neil’s neck, all the way to his cheeks. He felt like he’d been caught making out with Todd in a closet, which was ridiculous, he knew, because all he’d actually done was ask a similar question as his classmate. But when he looked at Keating’s knowing smile, he wasn’t really sure if there was a difference.

“Well uh… I mean-” he forced an awkward sort of laugh, trying, somehow, to act calm, to hide the fact that he potentially had a crush on Todd Anderson that could dwarf certain suns. “What did you tell him?”

“I believe I recommended ‘ The Road Not Taken’ by our dear friend Robert Frost. I don’t suppose you would know if he took me up on that recommendation, would you?”

Keating gave him a knowing sort of look, but it didn’t elicit the flash of panic Neil would have expected. He had a crush on Todd Anderson, Keating was apparently right onto him and… and that was probably okay.

“Yeah he… he did.” Neil remembered watching Todd as he delivered his poem, the way he seemed to get lost in the words, coming back to earth only after the final stanza had drawn to a close. Neil wasn’t sure where Todd went when he read, and it felt rude to just ask, like something too personal. He imagined it was something like what he felt, sitting there with his blindfold on, listening to classical music. “He did a really good job with it, obviously.” Neil broke into a smile at the ‘obviously’, knowing it was really something that could have gone unsaid, and they both would have known it anyway. He still wanted to say it.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Keating slapped Neil’s desk, which made him jump a little, and then rose to his feet. “Hopefully we can find something just as effective for you.”

“Hopefully, Captain,” Neil agreed, watching silently as Keating scanned his bookshelves, pulling a large, leather-bound collection free.

“You’re a man of Shakespeare, Neil, is that right?” Keating asked, already flipped through the pages.

“Absolutely,” Neil agreed excitedly, peering up slightly to try and gain a glimpse as to what exactly Keating was looking at, a task that very immediately proved itself pointless.

“Well then, I’m sure you’ll be aware of, if not familiar, with some of his sonnets.”

Neil nodded. “Uh, aware of, maybe not familiar,” he admitted, and Keating smiled as he set the book down in front of Neil, opened to a specific page.

“Well then, let’s see if we can fix that.” Keating tapped his finger upon the page. “Sonnet 18, might be one you’ve heard of.”

Neil scanned the page for only a moment, but it was enough for his eyes to catch the very first line ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’. He looked up at Keating, who had that same knowing smile, that sort of twinkle in his eye, and Neil nodded. He folded over the corner of the page, and closed the book, taking it with him as he stood.

“Thank you, O Captain, My Captain.”

“You’re quite welcome, my good Puck.”

+++

“Are you excited?” Neil asked, as he walked by Todd’s side, as the forest swallowed them both whole.

“Yeah, course I am.” Todd said the words like they were obvious, and Neil found himself surprised because they kind of were, because Todd had shed whatever walls he seemed so keen to hide behind all the time, and was smiling at him broadly. “I might be more excited if I knew what I was looking forward to, though.”

Neil laughed. “Well that would just ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it?”

“Doesn’t have to be a surprise. If you’d ever asked, I’d tell you what I was reading.”

“Okay then, what are you reading?”

Todd huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. (A horrible idea, really, they needed those for balance out here, and Todd was always tripping over himself when they traveled through the woods.) “Well I’m not telling you now , if you won’t tell me yours.”

“See! Then we’re even, and you don’t get to complain.”

“You’re going first, though.”

“Alright, sure,” Neil said very seriously, nodding along in agreement. “I’ll go first, read the opening statements, and then you’ll read your poem…” He trailed off, waving one hand through the air as he described his plans, to look over his shoulder at Todd, who was glaring at him and clearly trying, very hard, to hide his amusement.

“You’re a jerk.”

Neil laughed, but Todd went on before he got the chance to respond. “Fine, I’ll go first, but mine’s short anyway, it’ll be over before you know it.”

“I’ll be sure to savor it,” Neil assured him. They were nearing the cave, then, able to watch as it suddenly appeared into view, right under their feet.

“Uh thanks,” Todd muttered, traveling down the path, worn familiar by their own steps.

“Also, don’t think I didn’t notice your clue! There’s only so many short poems out there!”

Todd laughed, ducking into the cave ahead of Neil. “You’re not going to guess it!”

“Maybe I will!” Neil followed him, down, and suddenly they were face to face. Neil froze, and Todd did too, staring at him with slightly wider than usual eyes.

“What do you think?” Todd asked quietly, and Neil found himself suddenly very, very unsure if they were still talking about poetry.

He leaned in slightly, and didn’t know how to feel when Todd didn’t lean back, when he stayed right where he was. “Whitman,” he finally said.

Todd laughed, broke the tension, the moment… broke something as he stepped away, found a spot to get settled in the cave. “That’s just your default guess then, huh?”

“You like him!” Neil said defensively, finding his own spot to get settled and pulling out the opening notes. He’d been getting lax on reading them as of late, but they’d made it in his little improvised agenda for the night, so he felt that they were a needed inclusion. “Am I right?”

Todd shook his head, sitting down on one of the rocks around the cave. “No more hints.”

Neil laughed. “Alright then, fine. You just know I’d figure it out.”

Todd only graced that statement with an eyeroll, which Neil smiled at. Then he took out the old, tattered book that Keating had left on his desk, opened it to the first page, and began to read.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately-”

The words were nearly cemented in Neil’s head at that point, etched there like a river slowly carving its way into a mountain. They felt comfortably familiar on his tongue, like old friends. He thought the repetition might strip their meaning at some point, like saying ‘spaghetti’ or ‘lamppost’ over and over again, until they just sounded like strange collections of sounds. But the excerpt held the same weight the fifteenth time he read it out as it had the first, and when he finished, they both let the silence hang in the air for a moment.

Neil was the one not to break the silence, but maybe carefully pull it back, like a curtain. He cleared his throat. “You’re up.”

Todd nodded, and they switched spots; Todd standing as Neil sat down, eager to listen. He realized that Todd didn’t have a book with him this time, or anything really, he just stood tall and looked right at Neil.

“This is O me! O life! By… well, Walt Whitman.”

Neil grinned, pleased at his own correct guess, but decided he could save the gloating for another time, as Todd began–

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of it all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Neil found himself mouthing along to the final lines. Keating referenced them enough that their whole class probably knew at least the final section, and Neil in particular had made sure to etch them in his memory, in his very soul. Hearing them from Todd himself was somehow transformative. Neil couldn’t quite describe it, but he wasn’t sure he felt the need to, either.

Todd finished his reading, and a slow silence descended on top of them. There were no pages to put away, no books to slam shut, just the two of them, staring at each other, quiet.

“So I was right,” Neil announced proudly, interrupting that slow, distant quiet. “Whitman,” he added, teeth cutting through the ‘t’.

Todd rolled his eyes, sat down across from Neil in the cave. “Alright, yeah, but it's not like it was that hard to guess.” He broke eye contact with Neil, started twisting his fingers around the edge of his jacket sleeve, fidgeting. “Besides, it’s a good poem.”

Neil smiled. “You’re right, it is. That was one of the first ones Keating introduced us to, right?”

“Yeah,” Todd chuckled, still fidgeting with his sleeves. “Yeah, right at the beginning of the year, back when we all thought he was crazy or something.”

“I’m not sure I’ve changed my mind on that one. I think it’s good he’s a little nuts, don’t you? Makes him the best teacher we have.”

Todd hummed in agreement. “Yeah, maybe.” He nodded at the book in Neil’s hands, gesturing to it with one lazily flopping hand. “Come on though, it’s your turn. No stalling.”

Neil laughed as he rose to his feet, flipping through the pages of his book. “Hey, I wasn’t stalling! I was just making conversation.” He found the right one, page dog-eared, margins filled, annotated and well-read. His stomach flipped as his eyes found the first line, and he wondered if maybe he was stalling a little after all.

“Are you ready?” he asked Todd.

“Of course.”

Of course. Neil nodded, reminded himself that he could do this, that he was an actor, that it was his calling to give performances just like this one, to pour his entire heart into them just like this one. So he cleared his throat quietly, and began-

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

The words fell from Neil’s lips like honey in some parts, in others they tumbled forth like autumn leaves. He couldn’t tell if time seemed to speed up or slow down as he gave his performance. Maybe time just kind of broke a little in general, and part of Neil would always be stuck in that moment, in that sonnet. It didn’t seem like such a bad moment to be caught in.

Neil shut the book, looked over its spine at Todd, who was sitting on the floor of the cave, who was looking up at him, wide-eyed, too-still. “What’d you think?” he asked after a moment, shrugging the silence off his shoulders.

“Neil, that was amazing. You- you did good. Really good.” And Todd looked up at him like he really meant it, still wide-eyed, maybe a bit more fidgety, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket, blond hair swaying in the dim light. Neil wondered if that was how he looked, when he watched Todd read his poetry.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, grinning. “I chose it for you, you know.”

“That- it was a good choice. Shakespeare.”

“Oh yeah, probably pretty predictable though, huh? Bet you could’ve guessed it, if you tried.”

Todd nodded down at his hands; he watched them as they trailed over the stitching on his coat, as they curled the fabric over itself and rolled it between their fingers. “Why that one, specifically?” He looked up at Neil, suddenly too-still. Eyes narrow.

Neil swallowed down the fluttering in his stomach, the sudden, frantic question of- ‘Am I really doing this?’ Instead, he replaced it with the reverberating chorus of ‘Carpe diem. Seize the day.’

“I chose it for you,” he said, again, looking down at Todd. In the firelight of regular dead poets meetings, his eyes would flash and shine, hair golden. But here, the cave was dark, illuminated by a dying flashlight they’ve stuck in the corner. Here, Todd’s eyes were something deep and dark, something he could fall into. Here, their hair was the same shade of brown.

Neil cleared his throat. “I think that you’re all those things, Todd. I’ve thought it since- I don’t know- I’ve thought it since we met? Since we started the club? Since you read me your first poem? I don’t know when I realized it, but once I did I couldn’t just… you were everywhere Todd. I couldn’t ignore it. Like the sun.” The words were tumbling out of him, and Neil took a shaky breath, tried to reorient himself in the cave, with the flashlight, with those eyes and that hair.

“And god sometimes I feel like… like a flare or something. Like something that’ll burn bright and then just- just tear itself up. Go out. But I see you, and I can’t imagine you ever burning up, just shining on until the end of the universe. And I think that’s why…” Neil’s voice shook, despite his best efforts, despite all his actor training. There was no script, just words, thoughts, emotions, too much for him to carry without wavering. Carpe diem. “And shit, Todd, I think that’s part of the reason why I’m a little bit in love with you.”

Neil finished his confession with a weak laugh, with a shaky smile smothering over his hesitance. Todd didn’t return the gesture, the laugh, the smile, he just looked up at Neil with something so genuine Neil wasn’t sure what to do with it. He gripped the book in his hands, and hoped he didn’t break it.

“You don’t have to say anything, right now. Or ever, I guess, I just-”

“Wait, Neil, I-” Todd cut him off with a rushed sort of franticness, like he knew he had to say something , even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. Neil shut up.

Todd rose to his feet, and suddenly they were right in front of each other, too close for the beams of the flashlight to hit their faces, shading each other from its glare. “Do you want to know why I chose my poem?” Todd asked, softly.

“Why?” Neil matched his tone without even thinking about it, which was good, because otherwise he might be tempted to shout over the wild beating of his heart in his chest. They were so close . 

“Because I want to live life to the fullest and because… because I know what I want my verse to say.”

And when Todd leaned forward, Neil matched him without thinking about it.

The kiss was quiet and brief and maybe, when they both looked back on it privately, they’d call it awkward– they didn’t know what to do with their hands, were a little too scared when they didn’t need to be. But in the moment, it felt like the sun was shining right on Neil’s chest, right into it, where it never got to go, and it felt wonderful.

Todd pulled away first, both of their eyes fluttering open.

“That was a good verse,” Neil said softly, and Todd laughed, turning his head down and away from him, golden hair flashing in the cave.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

[t00nyah]

also. remember my au where marcy's olivia's daughter and in general the girls get to amphibia earlier? yeah so i maybe wrote something.

something...like a fanfic maybe...small thingie...tee-hee.

sasha, in the throne room, in front of king andrias, is studying her surroundings and, to her shock, notices barely standing still marcy next to a blue newt – the royal advisor.

"mar…marcy?" sasha didn't really plan to start talking before she's permitted to, out of respect, but the surprise in her voice was really clear. marcy regina wu, in all her grace, but somehow with a tail(…?!), was trying not to shout and nodded in excitement.

"now hold on, what are you doing here? for how long..?" "SASHA!! hi-hi-hi-hi– oh, i've missed you so much!! i didn't believe i'll see you or anne ever again, but here you are – first anne, now you!!" "anne is here?.." "she sure is!– well, not exactly here-here, but she's staying in newtopia with her family for the agricultural – and i hope annual from this moment on, andrias, – festival! and, OOOH, i have so much more to–" "mar-mar, hold your horses," sasha takes a deep breath to process given information. she forces a smile. "hey, how about: we sort things out with my super-important meeting with the king and then we-e…discuss everything? and then you'll help me catch up to everything, okie, mar-mar?"

marcy, in fact, looked at her a little dumbfounded, and then embarrassingly looked away at the wall.

"oh yeeah…i kind of forgot that this was supposed to be an official meeting, haha."

after those words, royal advisor's daughter tried to make the most calm and collected pose she could. making a pause, sasha turned her attention to the giant newt in front of her.

"king andrias, i'm just a passerby, but i think i have something information about might be hidden from the prying eyes. i– i understand that i might not be qualified worthy either, but i need to know…" under the king's interested gaze, she took out of her small worn-out bag…

"OH, that's the box we found! it was with you the whole time?!"

and, once again, the order was broken by marcy's shout, to which lady olivia called her off with a strict gaze, getting an apology in return.

"i found it in the forest not so long ago. so…what? i want to know how it's connected to what happened." she looked at the king, who put on his glasses to take a better look at the artifact.

"well, that's an interesting finding. you see, marcy already told us the story about the music box… hm… perhaps if we put all our effort and check the royal archives, we'll find something! marcy, can i count on you to help with this…deal?" the giant salamander trustfully smiled at the girl and she gasped.

"CAN YOU?! i'm all in, mister! king!"

"i knew i could count on lady olivia's daughter," andrias grinned, to which he received a surprised, but pleasantly surprised, look from the royal advisor and turned his gaze to sasha. "we'll start tomorrow morning. but for now! i suppose our meeting is over, and i'd like miss marcy to properly reunite with our guest! go on, i'm sure you have a lot to discuss."

with a restrained squeal, marcy, as if on command, rushed to her childhood friend and hugged her so hard that they almost fell on the floor, saved only by the blonde's sense of balance. sasha replied with not any less firm hug and, when they let each other go, mar-mar gently took her hands with such incredible joy on her face.

"sashasashasashasashasasha!! you can't even imagine how glad i am to see you… oh, i can't wait till i'll show you where anne lives!! well, for now. for some time," there was a noticeable disappointment in the last words. "but! now… who wants a tour of the castle from the royal advisor's daughter, one of her kind, marcy rippletail-wu herself?!"

sasha awkwardly smiled to her.

"yeah, sure, mar-mar. can't wait. but we…" she looked away for a moment before looking into her friend's eyes again. "…really need to discuss. a lot. you get what i mean. we haven't seen each other in ages, isn't that crazy?" "exactly! oooh i can tell you so much, but first, i'd like to know what happened to you! look at your clothes! where'd you get it??" "…made it myself?" "…no. way. this IS SO COOL!!" "kinda. i didn't really have a choice. i luckily had a teacher though." "TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT FROM THIS SPOT!!" said marcy as they began walking away from the throne room.

---

so... little context i can give:

sasha ran away almost immediately and had to learn to survive on her own with occasional help from locals. marcy became adoptive daughter for olivia (rippletail *giggles in silly headcanons*). she also still really likes agricultural stuff...and begs andrias to hold a huge festival!! and anne lives with plantars (tho she had time when she ran away only to accept that she needs help from them, so they came to newtopia both for the festival and to search for answers in the heart of amphibia).

:)

[siriannatan]

The Great Freeze - part 2 - fWhipScott

I could not not write fWhip and Scott follow up to that sugary bomb of Pix and Sausage cuddles :} For context see 1st part if you somehow missed it :}

Rivendell was a right mess when fWhip finally managed to reach it. It was a lot harder to fight the snowstorm as a small almost pocket-sized dragon than he imagined it would be. He had to walk up the mountain for a solid hour to reach the city from the furthest point he managed to reach. At least Scott's council and army had the cold figured out but everyone was very confused why their king locked himself in his castle and was freezing anyone who even as much as tried to talk to him. Why couldn't Jimmy warn their resident ice princess he'd be going for a puberty nap?

At least the council was too busy trying to figure out what to do to pay any attention to a vampire sneaking through the city. fWhip could be really sneaky if he wanted to. He just usually preferred to announce himself with explosions. Today he just needed to see Scott without his council getting in the way. For some reason (a very loud argument that ended with Rivendell leaving WRA and joining CA) they didn't like that fWhip was trying to fix his 'friendship' with Scott. 

Their friendship was doing great by the way, fWhip's teeth being very sharp was apparently something Scott liked a lot. And that fWhip didn't need to sleep and often forgot Scott needed to what aided his insomnia. And unlike Jimmy, he would discuss books and history with Scott. He especially liked talking books and history while in fWhip's lap with Jimmy slowly dozing off after agreeing to give Scott five more minutes of vampire time before it was bedtime.

Unfortunately, there was no Jimmy available to placate Scott with at the moment so fWhip would have to do on his own.

Up close Rivendell royal palace was even more covered in ice than fWhip anticipated. The door was not sealed away with ice but there were many threatening spikes of ice around the door. Not that they would deter fWhip. By the concentration of ice, he assumed Scott was not intending to start an ice age. But that was merely a guess, he'd have to confirm that with Scott. 

Inside the palace wasn't any better. Piles of snow and ice covered literally everything fWhip walked past. He didn't want to alert Scott of his presence just yet so he stayed quiet and sneaked through the silent corridors. There was of course a chance Scott already knew he was there, a very small chance. He was likely occupied with different things - being a drama queen was a full-time task.

The first place he decided to check was the library, not the main royal library but Scott's personal one. Scott really liked collecting his favourites in a special, just for their space.

"Should I be offended if you don't freeze the world if I ever pull a disappearing act like Jimmy did?" as expected Scott was in his private library. Wrapped in a thick, woollen blanket with hot tea and a book.

"Whole... World?" he asked with wide eyes and ran to a window. It was followed by a long and panicked string of rather nasty elven words. "I... I only meant to freeze the castle for a day or two..." he whined and all fWhip could do was sigh. Just as he thought. Scott underestimated how strong his magic was. Again. Only this time it was much bigger than freezing a lake.

"Don't worry, snowflake, as long as the snowstorms stop everything and everyone should be fine," fWhip pulled him into a hug. He gently patted his back as Scott mumbled apologies.

"I can't just make all the snow and ice go away, that'd cause a massive flood and..." he rambled and fWhip could swear the room's temperature went up like one or two degrees. He couldn't be too sure. Being a vampire and all that.

"Everyone should be able to bare it until it melts, Sausage's helping Pix..." fWhip assured him. Grimlands could handle the freeze for a long time anyway. "If anything you might have just fixed their relationship and I'd call it worth the flash ice age," he chuckled to maybe, just maybe, lift Scott's spirits. "Next time Jimmy's a jerk and not tell you something come and bother me, I'll always make time for you if I have to," he added as he gently patted Scott's head. The snowstorm outside, centred on the castle, was already slowly dying down.

"I just wanted a day off..." Scott sighed as he fell into fWhip's arms. "I had no idea I could freeze stuff all the way to Pix's..."

"What's done is done, we can delay talking to others until they see the snow's actually slowing down, maybe get some rest in you?" fWhip offered but was already picking Scott up. He might have ignored it but he looked exhausted by all that magic he did. "I can punch Jimmy for not warning you, once he's back?" he added and finally got a small smile out of Scott.

"Do I get a kiss before my nap?" the elf asked and yawned. "I should have known I overdid it once I got this tired..." he sighed, leaning more into fWhip.

Scott was asleep before fWhip managed to reach his bedroom. He didn't want to leave him alone so he send a message to other rulers. 'Scott's fine, overreacted, he's sorry, snow should slowly melt soon to avoid floods." And after turning his communicator off joined the elf in the bed. He might not need to sleep but he still enjoyed cuddles and Scott was really cuddly in his sleep. He just hoped Jimmy wouldn't take too long with his puberty nap.

[beesandwasps]

Not Magic But Intent

The phrase “intent is not magic” used to be pretty popular on social media a few years back — it means “doing a bad thing while having a good mindset does not somehow make the bad thing good”. This is true.

However, intent does have some practical effects. Right now, neo-nazis are trying to take over relief efforts for the train derailment in Ohio. They are doing this in hopes that if they talk really loudly about how mutual aid is coming from fascism, they will be able to recruit more fascists, or at least make the recipients of the aid stop opposing it. Since we don’t even want the fascists we already have, let alone a new crop, this is concerning.

I bring this up not because of that specific issue but because I am starting to see something on the left which worries me, involving intent.

Fascists are evil and we should stop them. If you’re here and reading that, I’m kind of presuming you agree with that statement. (If not, go away.) But it is worth asking ourselves “why?” now and again, so that we remain clear about this.

The correct answer is “fascists need to be stopped because they will, if left unchecked, harm (and usually kill) people for traits which they cannot control, such as ancestry or sexual orientation”. If there were, somehow, a fascist movement which exclusively sought to improve the lot of its favored group by nonviolent collective bargaining on their behalf, like the AARP does for old people, then it would not be necessary to resist it — but it also would not be categorized as a fascist movement, because a movement is called fascist because of its hatred of and, ultimately, violence towards the “other”. Nobody is seriously going to categorize the AARP as fascist (unless they start blaming young people for things and trying to kill them, of course — that would put them over the line).

Now, note the specifics of that answer: the fault is with the hatred of and violence against others. It’s not the particular selection of who those others are. If you encounter a political movement which blames all problems on white people and wants to kill them, that’s as bad as American fascists who blame all problems on dark-skinned people and want to kill them, or nazis who blame all problems on Jews and want to kill them. The wrongness is the desire to scapegoat people and then harm and kill them.

I bring this up because I keep seeing posts which seem to be saying “we need to resist nazis because they hate Jewish people, and Jews are special and should be exempt from violence”, with the implication that if said nazis were targeting some other group it would be okay.

Think that’s an exaggeration? Think again — the current Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, leader of the single largest political party of Israel — which is considered centrist and mainstream in Israel, no matter how right-wing it may appear from the outside — has spent years trying to whitewash not just nazis but Adolf Hitler himself. In 2015 he tried to claim that Hitler didn’t want to kill Jewish people and just a couple of years ago — there’s an article on this somewhere in my blog’s archives which I can’t find, and I don’t want to Google this too specifically because I don’t want a bunch of searches with these terms in my history — gave an interview where he said that if the Nazis hadn’t specifically put Jews on their enemies list they would have been fine (which means that the other people who were in concentration camps, gays and Roma and disabled people and dissenters and so forth, were fine to exterminate). It is absolutely a mainstream opinion in Israel that fascism is fine as long as Jews aren’t the target.

Hate crimes against Jewish people should not be tolerated. But they should not be tolerated because hate crimes should not be tolerated, not because the target is Jewish people. We don’t need Jewish übermenschen any more than we need “Aryan” ones; unfortunately it is clear that Zionism is increasingly linked to exactly this worldview. Deciding that Muslims — and particularly Palestinians — are inherently evil and then trying to kill them, which is official Israeli policy now, is fascist, and must be stopped.

[madamesmoke]

It's interesting how your own situation can influence how you perceive things.

That doesn't make your perception right or wrong, but it gives you perspective.

For example: I wasn't aware of the concept of Gender roles until I was in my teens. Gender roles just never mattered in my upbringing.

I was never told I couldn't do something because I was a girl. Or that I had to do something.

When I was 5ish, I started collecting these little trucks that liquor-brands use for advertising sometimes. All my moms friends got them for me when they saw them.

They where prominently displayed in our living room, along with my sister's ice hockey merch, our barbies and giant lego-bricks. I had a Truck in the same dark, pearlescent grey as my favorite skirt. Super thrilled about that one.

I grew up to my mom halving said living room with 4x4s, creating a framework that housed a cat tree, storage compartments and plants, creating a jungle like dining nook. (Somehow she made it renter friendly and recreated the process in every flat we ever lived in)

I think that my upbringing made it easier for me to find my own identity. Without the pressure to fit into arbitrary social molds, I could focus on my sense of self. This gives me a security that's irreplaceable.

We continue that type of upbringing with my nieces and nephew. I used to have a ladybug skirt that is the communal property of all three. So are all the books they ever got from me. I've seen all three of them wear that particular skirt several times in the past month alone. (Kinda impressed that the thing is still intact)

My oldest niece is 14 and the most aggressive soccer player I've ever seen. Does that stop her from being girly? Not at all.

My younger Niece (10) is obsessed with history. Topic of the moment are the napoleonic wars and the Prussian army in particular. She kinda disturbed her history teacher with her passionate rant about Corporal Friederike Krüger, one of the MANY women who joined the Prussian military service at the time.

My nephew (9) loves space, cooking and deadpool. Did some kids at school make fun of him? For a hot minute, then he asked them if they liked food. (They did)

I'm proud of them.

These kids meticulously explore their identities, without letting arbitrary "rules" dictate their paths.

Just like my sister and I before them, my mom and her sisters, my grandma and her siblings.

We continue to grow, as people, as a family and as a part of the society surrounding us.

We have only TWO Rules:

Do not harm yourself or anyone else

Ask for help if you need it.

How did my Niece learn so much about the Prussian military? I'm an archivist by trade. The Prussian State Archive gave some publications away for free when I was still learning. Kid basically inhaled the information.