#like puzzle pieces from two very different puzzles that still FIT TOGETHER

[t-dubber]

You ever draw something and you’re just SO happy that you did? Yeah.. that’s me right now. 💖💖💖💖

[maple-the-awesome]

Body Swap || Part 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairings: Wild, Four, Sky, Hyrule x Reader

Overview: A wizard's spell leaves you both in a state of confusion, especially upon realizing you're no longer in your assigned bodies. No Wind for this one, so we'll just give him a cookie and spare him the trauma for today -.-/🍪 The other boys are at my mercy, though

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

This dungeon had been going great - so great, in fact, that you were actually sad to reach the end of it. Sure, the puzzles were a pain in the butt and the miniboss was an embarrassing waste of time, but what had made it all worth it was the fact that you had gone through every trial right by Link’s side. 

In a group of ten travelers, a date day with just the two of you is rare - extremely and unjustly rare - therefore you had both jumped at the chance of completing this dungeon alone together. Everything was going swimmingly, too, right down to the main boss battle. A tiny, itty bitty yet still very evil wizard is nothing compared to your combined force, so you expected it to be a piece of cake that would end in a wonderful memory to look back on later. Instead, it ended in a very different, less appreciated way.

One more hit was all it should've taken to defeat the little guy, however right as Link raised his bow for the final arrow, the wizard began swinging its wand around in a last ditch effort for success. Fearing for your partner's safety, you had rushed over with your shield, hoping to use it to block whatever spell the wizard planned, but in an unexpected twist, said spell turned into a cloud of smoke instead of a ball of energy like you expected.

As the boss made his escape, the fumes of his final spell poisoned the air and entered your lungs with an uncomfortable burn. Link and you both fell to your knees in coughing fits, suddenly feeling dizzy and woozy much to your concern...

Aside from the initial wave of nausea you felt, that wizard's spell seemed like nothing more than a harmless distraction for escape, at least that's what you would've went on thinking if not for the sight that greeted you once the smoke officially cleared.

"Oh jeez! ...Uhhh, are you alright?" Although a shock indeed, you remain calm with your first priority being to check on Wild who's still fanning away the fumes from his face.

"Yeah, I'm alrig -" He freezes almost as soon as the words are said, his eyes immediately shooting open to look down at his body - or rather your body that he's suddenly found himself in, "WHAT THE -?! HOW AM I - I'M YOU?!"

“Very observant, Wild,” You roll your eyes before looking around the room to find no sign of that wizard. Whether that’s fortunate or unfortunate might depend on your ability to reverse this little problem he’s now left you both with, “...Guess that little guy was such a sore loser he decided to play dirty then retreat. What a coward.”

Standing up, you start examining yourself for possible injuries - ones that weren't already a part of Wild's collection, that is. Thankfully you see nothing aside from a small cut above your hip from a hit he had taken earlier; an easy fix with the help of a red potion. If only the same could be said about your incredibly tangled hair that you pull a leafed branch out of with a cringe, "When was the last time you've taken a bath?"

"Rude!"

"Personal hygiene is very important. It keeps you from harboring full-on ecosystems in your hair."

"...You sound just like the Captain…" Wild mumbles under his breath while pushing himself off the ground. Once up, he wobbles and holds his arms out for balance as if he’s never stood on two legs before.

"Oh, the Captain! He’s going to have the time of his life with this one - all the boys will, I'm sure,” In Wild's opinion, your teasing smirk doesn’t quite carry the same effect as it would if on your assigned face. Instead, it looks a bit...silly to see you speaking as himself and judging on your sniffled laughter, he, too, must look equally as funny glaring back at you as you. 

"Ugh. I can already hear Twilight blaming us for not being careful enough," He groans, subconsciously runs his hand over his arm which is smooth like silk rather than being rough with scars. Huh. He had forgotten how that felt...

"Yep, we're in for a heap of nagging and annoying jokes when we get back, but I say we at least have some fun with it while we can. Wanna see how long it takes anyone to notice?" You nudge his side as you pass by towards the exit of the boss chamber, your suggestion finally lifting his spirits.

"I don’t know. It could take them all night if we keep our mouths shut about it."

"No way. They'll notice as soon as I do something stupid and you don't, which should take approximately an hour at most…I mean, assuming that you’re not asked to make dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well in that case, they’ll definitely notice then. You’re a terrible cook.”

“Rude!”

You moan while rubbing your burning eyes. Even with them closed, you can still see remnants of the same flashy colors that had followed after that wizard’s stupid spell; like a firework show inside your eyelids that's so realistic you can actively smell the gunpowder.

"Don't panic," You hear someone say. You assume it must be Four since he's the only other person here, although his voice sounds different, almost like…

"Don't...? Why would I panic - AHH!" Once finally being able to see straight, you expected to find Four kneeling in front of you, but instead you just see yourself. It's as if you're looking directly into a mirror until you glance down at your hands. That's when you let out a shout, doing the exact opposite of what Four asked by instantly panicking upon realizing they aren't actually your hands, but his. Your clothes, your hair, your BODY; IT’S ALL HIM!

"I’M YOU!”

"I can see that."

"YOU’RE ME?!”

"Yes."

"...H-How are you not freaking out?" You blink at him - er, you? Whoever! You blink at who should be Four but is actually you as he simply shrugs in response to your question as if this is just another Tuesday for him!

"This isn’t really the ‘craziest’ thing that's happened to me. Maybe in the top three, but..."

You stare at him for a long minute, wanting to be angry that he's behaving so calmly right now, although he does have somewhat of a reputation for being one of the more relaxed Link's, not to mention the pair of you have seen some pretty crazy stuff during your adventures, both separate and together.

Running a hand through your hair, you take deep breathes and try your best not to be so freaked out especially once remembering this isn't technically your hair you're touching which makes you instantly stop the action, "...What do we do to fix this?"

"I...don't know."

"You 'don't know'? What, are we supposed to just live like this forever?!"

"No, of course not!" He crosses his arms uncomfortably and sighs, "We'll find a way to reverse the spell and get back to our normal bodies. We're in Legend’s world, but I think he mentioned that his Zelda knows some magic, so if we can get to the Castle, she might be able to help us."

You groan, running your hand over your face in irritation. You were having such a good day until this point! Why can't the universe allow you just one normal evening with your boyfriend, huh? Is that too much to ask for?

Four offers you a hand and helps you up. Once on your feet, you realize yet another detail about your current situation that makes you uncomfortable, "Woah. I'm not used to looking at myself from another perspective like this…or being so low to the ground.”

Four rolls his eyes at your comment before taking your hand and dragging you after him outside of the dungeon.

"Oh, come on! Doesn't it weird you out, too? Looking at yourself from my point of view while I’m in your body?"

"Of course, it’s weird,” He sighs again, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I'm just considering myself lucky I'm only looking at one of me."

"...One?"

"Sky? You alright?" You crawl blindly out of the smoke cloud, coughing along the way while keeping your eyes squeezed shut to prevent anything from getting in them. Although you receive no verbal reply, you can at least relax upon hearing Sky's wheezing close by. 

You’re about to repeat your question, yet your voice dies within your throat. Once opening your eyes, you see yourself kneeled on the ground where you fan smoke away from your nose with a face scrunched up in irritation – except that’s not really you. It can’t be! You’re right here, so how is it that you’re suddenly able to look at yourself through a third person perspective? …Then you look down, slowly but surely putting the pieces together in your head.

"...Sky?" 

Just as predicted, the 'other you' looks up in response, even giving a small hum before their eyes go wide with the same shock you undoubtedly mirror.

“(Y/n)? Is that you? You’re –“

“- You…And you’re me,” It doesn’t matter how many times you close your eyes and reopen them. Each time, you’re greeted by the same sight. Thanks to that stupid wizard, you’ve switched bodies with Sky which definitely wasn’t on your agenda for today…or any other, for that matter. Worst part? Neither of you know a thing about magic to reserve this, “…Shit…”

“M-Maybe someone else knows how to fix this?” Sky suggests hopefully, although judging on his waivered smile, even he must realize it’s a long shot. Not many Links are accustomed to magic either, and believe it or not, no one’s been in this situation yet not that they’ve ever cared to share, anyway.

“Here’s to hoping…Come on, we should at least get out of this place before that wizard comes back and switches our heads,” Sky gulps, but nods.

Standing to your feet, you brush yourself off and prepare to make your exit from this dark boss’s chamber, however you pause in place when you notice Sky following you at much slower pace, his posture rather stiff as he holds his arms slightly away from himself, “…Why are you walking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” You copy his stance then give him a pointed look that makes him bow his head in embarrassment.

“I-I don’t want to touch something I’m not supposed to!”

"Awww, that’s sweet, but dude, you can relax. They're only feminine arms. They won't kill you," You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at how careful and sweet he's trying to be. If there’s one thing to be grateful for in this situation, it’s that you got switched around with a gentleman instead of a pervert, "Just don't touch my breasts or anything and we’ll be good.”

Poor Sky whimpers uncomfortably after your comment…Yeah, hopefully this situation can be solved without leaving any lasting trauma behind...

"Mmm...Hey, are you alright?"

Hyrule's voice sound so distance despite him being so close by. You wish you could see him, but every time you try to open your eyes, you're only met with blurred colors and sparkles, "...I-I think so..."

Hyrule sighs and is about to say something else, but his relief is instead punctuated with a gasp once he looks down at his hands. He whispers your name, however his voice goes unnoticed the first time. He has to shout it a bit louder for you to actually hear him. Finally, you're able to open your eyes and see a bit more clearly - at least that's what you thought before looking over to his voice and just seeing yourself.

"What kinda spell was that? My eyes aren't working right," You start vigorously rubbing them again only for Hyrule to reach out and grab your wrists to stop you.

"They're working. At least, I-I'm pretty sure they're working. You, uh, see yourself instead of me, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I see myself instead of you."

"Okay?"

Hyrule bows his head, removing his hands from wrists to stare down at them with a wobbled frown, "I don't think it's a trick of our ours. I think that spell switched our bodies."

"...Oh...Oooh!" After his words sink in, you glance down at yourself and pick at your tunic, confirming that it feels as real as it looks.

“Alright. This might seem bad, but look on the bright side: neither of us are hurt so the others can scold us too much, right? Let’s just get back to camp and –" Hyrule’s cut off when you suddenly squeal. Startled, his head snaps back up at you, fearing that perhaps you had gotten hurt somehow, yet to his surprise, you have a bright smile on your face as you tangle your fingers in your hair – or rather his hair.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just – I’ve always wondered if your hair is as soft as it looks and it definitely is!” You giggle, unable to help yourself from testing your theory personally. Hyrule's hair has always appeared to be the fluffiest out of all the Links and you've been dying to ask him if you can touch it, perhaps even braid it. Now that you technically in his body now, might as well, right? It's at least some benefit to this weird situation, “What do you use to wash it?”

"I, uh...water, I guess?"

“…”

[qqtxt]

[🌸] two best friends in a room w/ txt

complete title: two best friends in a room (they might kiss) (yeah, they just might) (just maybe not now)

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / bff!txt (in the process to lovers...) ✿ disclaimers: a couple of curse words but none with ill intention, mutual pining (both are oblivious to the max) / the rest of the boys constantly side-eyeing the member being written about / the reader is adopted into the boys group / mentions of food and eating / a small innuendo in kai’s part ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,939 words ✿ the thing that slowly starts setting you apart from him and being “just best friends” >:)  [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet​ ✨

[🐰] soobin the living room is quiet, tranquil; the rest of the boys co-existing around like different planets in the same universe. soobin enjoys the silence, more so when he tries to turn the page, only for you to huff and place your hand on top of his to stop him. days like these were the ones soobin longs for the most; no practice, no mentions of being an idol just... choi soobin, who enjoys reading comics... with you in his arms.

the sofa is big enough for a couple of people but here you two are huddled on one end. hoodies on, soobin’s arms act like the blanket that cases you in as he holds up the comic book on your lap as you read in peace. occasionally, the guys walk by to the kitchen to fetch a drink or a snack, only to give soobin a knowing look when they see the two of you; like puzzle pieces fitting together so perfectly... that the only people who don’t see it is the very two people being mentioned.

he always waves them off one by one whenever it happens, not bothered by it... even if deep down inside, he is. his mind would’ve trailed off into a blackhole if it wasn’t for the way you squeezed his hand, signalling him to turn to the next page. he’s being brought back to the moment with you, feeling you rest your head on his shoulder as he turns the page and... well, with the way he’s able to see your smile up-close, your hand still holding onto his with a gentle squeeze, he’ll just enjoy this moment a little while longer.

tl;dr: one of the softest moments that you share with soobin in that grey area of being best friends and lovers is being comfortable and cuddled up together. nothing sexual, just the intimacy of being close to each other; safe, protected, at complete ease. soobin feels his body relaxing the second he feels yours close to him and it’s one of the signals that lets him know of how much he truly likes you more than just a friend.

[🦊] yeonjun  a thing that became second nature for you and yeonjun was him willingly becoming your seat when seats became limited. oftentimes, you found yourself hanging out with the boys–be it at their dorm or outside (at a location that people rarely recognised them for who they are or at odd times of the day). despite having a booth at a pizza place where it granted you privacy, there were a lack of seats... which resorted to yeonjun tugging you to follow to the end of one of the booth sofas, getting you to sit on top of him.

the boys don’t even question it anymore, taking their seats to continue looking and fuss over the menu on what they should order. you’re chiming in with what you want, now debating with beomgyu on whether you should get pineapples on the pizza or not. as yeonjun puts an arm around your waist and sees how you mindlessly rub his arm on you, he tries to hide the smile threatening to form as he leans his chin against your shoulder... the same time soobin watches the whole thing go down, trying his hardest not to tease his hyung about it.

“what’d you want?” you turn the cheek, so fast that yeonjun barely has time to lean back. your face is so close that he can count the lashes on your eyes. he clears his throat despite growing wide-eyed and tries to act composed with a small smile, “uhhh, anything. anything you want is what i want.” he answers smoothly and you snort, lightly patting his arm, “okay then.” 

when your attention is back to beomgyu as you two compile the orders, soobin has had enough. “anything you want is what i want,” soobin sing-songs, earning himself a smack to the back.

tl;dr: one of the ways yeonjun knows he likes you, or when it’s treading to be more than just friends territory is the way he wants to hold you all the time. he gets antsy when he sees other people holding you, touching you... that he’ll want it for himself in a discrete manner so it doesn’t throw you off. when he sees how you reciprocate his advances, it lets his heart rest easy that he’s allowed to be close to you the way he wants to... and that you’re welcoming him a bit closer each time.

[🐯] beomgyu  movie nights were one of the things beomgyu looks forward to the most. be it with the boys or without, he longs for the way he’s able to hold you in his arms as you two cuddled on the sofa or on the floor (depending on the crowd). tonight, you two were on the floor with beomgyu behind you, supported by the pillows as he’s able to get a clear view of the screen while resting his head by your neck, his arm around your waist as he snuggles against your from the back.

you welcome him, relishing in the warmth his body provides with the blanket askew on your bodies. as the movie continues halfway, kai takes a peek and notices how beomgyu takes a glance to the latter. the both of them share a silent smile, kai mouthing how cute and beomgyu rolling his eyes and using his free hand to wave him off. kai’s now nudging taehyun, who glances at the sight, not really surprised anymore as he scoffs a laugh, quietly mumbling as if we haven’t seen this before.

“guys, shut up.” beomgyu huffs quietly, only to get reprimanded by–”dude, you shut up.” your voice pipes at him, and he lets out a soft augh, i wasn’t even noisy before resorting to lean against you, keeping quiet as the movie continued. his face slowly hides in your neck and it’s the way you move your head to give him better access that you can feel his lips smiling against your skin. 

tl;dr: beomgyu is an affectionate person to begin with, so it wasn’t surprising that he’ll be touchy with you even if you’re just friends, or best friends, even. the thing that sets apart from being best friends, though, is the way he wants to snuggle against your neck, feeling safe there and never wanting to move away. whenever you move your head to allow him to do so, he’ll fall twice as hard and feel his feelings for you grow more. it’s only a matter of time it’ll knock into his mind that he likes you more than just a friend.

[🐿] taehyun  taehyun has no idea how it started but... he never wants it to end. now, whenever you were out with the boys or just him in general, it was a norm for him to be glued by your side... with his hand in yours. be it the grocery store, a simple stroll at the park at night, he found that his hand would naturally gravitate to yours and fill the spaces between so perfectly he doesn’t wanna let go.

even in present time as you two were strolling in the convenience store, his hand is in yours automatically as you went through the aisles together. it’s as if you had forgotten you had came here with beomgyu and yeonjun. the two boys mentioned were waiting at the cashier with a deadpan expression on their faces.

“how long do we have to wait for those idiots?” beomgyu asks, seeing how taehyun grins at your idea of sharing a couple of snacks, some ramen, and now picking out drinks with your hands still interlocked. “the day they figure out that they actually like each other.” yeonjun scoffs a laugh, resting an elbow on beomgyu’s shoulder as they patiently wait for the two of you to finish gathering your things so you can prepare your late night date supper.

tl;dr: while on the surface taehyun might seem cold and unaffectionate, it’s the opposite if he trusts you and is comfortable with you. which is why the boys don’t even question the way they notice how taehyun holds hands with you, lacing between, swinging back and forth whenever they were out and about. there was something about the way taehyun felt being able to hold your hand; security, like you’re his compass, like you’re the anchor holding him down before he floats away. it’s a small gesture but it slowly eats into taehyun’s mind that maybe, just maybe... you were more than just a friend to him.

[🐧] kai  you hang out around the boys a lot; huening kai specifically, since he’s your best friend. as nice as it was hanging out as a group, you two often had private moments in his bedroom. (get your head out of the gutter, not like that... though, it wouldn’t be bad–) watching shows together on the laptop placed at the end of the bed as you two snuggled in each other’s embrace, sharing a blanket, kai placing a different plushie each time in your arms as he holds you; it became a habit... a habit kai never wants to break.

today was no different. after having lunch together with the boys, you two split up to return to kai’s room to catch up on a series together. one episode, two, five later, it’s almost dinner time and yeonjun’s calling for everyone to come out to eat together. when everyone minus two has circled the table, beomgyu’s left to call the remaining missing culprits holding dinner captive.

it’s not until he puts his ear to kai’s bedroom door to hear nothing on the other end. gently, he twists the doorknob and pushes the door, heart eyes forming at the sight of you and kai cuddled up, sleeping with your backs against the head rest but both heads leaning against one another.

he quietly motions for taehyun to give him his phone, to which the latter mindlessly comes over to do just that and tries not to ruin the sight (on the outside, sure, he’s barfing but deep inside, he feels warm seeing how his friend is at ease with someone he’s been hearing too damn much about when he’s trying to sleep–). beomgyu takes a billion photos before he closes the door, telling the rest to just save some for the two of you and begin eating. when yeonjun asks the reason for both of your disappearance, all he does is show one of the photos he’s taken and soobin almost screams, to which yeonjun slaps a hand over the boy’s mouth with control yourself, choi soobin!

tl;dr: kai is an awkward bean with his words, so he resorts to actions more often. he’s not that great in speaking about his feelings but he can very well show someone when he’s interested in them. though, it’s hard to distinguish between him being a gentleman or the sweet bean he is... it’s fairly obvious based on how he looks at you and how he treats you on a personal level. the boys noticed how antsy he’d get whenever your mood wasn’t good, or how he’d constantly try to be by your side without being too possessive, either... so one of the things he’d want to himself is to have something only you two have; that special thing he’d gate keep to having you by his side alone; cuddling, being close... even when he knows very well he’s doing it in mind that he likes you more than just a friend.

[tripleglitchwriting]

I saw that the request is open, so I thought. How about a first contact au with rotb optimus? I've always liked that old bot haha

Hell yeah I rewatched the movie for this. Sorry it took longer for me to actually write this than I anticipated 😅

Some Things Are More Important

CW: Unintentional fearplay, calling a person “it” (also unintentionally)

Ah, the junkyard. A beautiful array of scrap metal glinting under the sun day after day, perfect for welding and crafting. For the longest time the atmosphere of the place put you off, but your drive to create overtook your fear and replaced it with passion.

The day your life changed was no different than any other. You took your time packing your things, preparing to scavenge once again, though the evening sun was already threatening to advance further down the sky. You didn’t need much, it wasn’t a far trip and certainly not a difficult one. You left in good time, pushing down the uneasy feeling you got when you stepped outside the house.

There was a specific piece of metal you were looking for, one you saw a couple days ago but wouldn’t fit in your cart due to how full it had been. It was the perfect size and shape for what you needed, of course you had to leave behind the one thing you needed now, though it couldn’t hurt to pick up some other materials while you were at it. Masterfully navigating your way through the junk was a special talent of yours, one you were quite proud of, so it struck you as odd when a random truck showed up in the middle of the yard.

It was red and blue, one of those trucks that carried huge cargo boxes and were scary to drive next to. It was pretty beat up, though you can’t imagine why someone would leave it here of all places rather than a used car lot or something. Well, you thought, it wasn’t your problem, so you didn’t treat it as such. You simply continued your search. There were so many great pieces of metal, you ended up staying there until dusk, yet you still couldn’t find the one you were looking for.

Now that you think about it, it must’ve been where that truck was now. Maybe somebody moved it, or worse, took it. It would be a huge bummer to lose such a perfect piece to your puzzle, so you figured staying out to look near the truck wouldn’t hurt anybody.

After around ten minutes of picking through trash, you heard a sound. It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was unnerving to say the least. It sounded like metal scraping together so you brushed it off as the wind blowing on some light metal or something. Five minutes later it happened again, this time louder. Not long after it happened again, and by now you were getting pretty freaked out.

Taking metal from the scrapyard wasn’t particularly illegal, after all you’d learned how to do it properly from your law-abiding friends, however it came with a certain set of risks. Getting cut by rusty metal, stepping on a stray nail, or even getting robbed by someone who preys on scrap pickers like yourself. You didn’t want to know what the sound was and you weren’t about to find out, perfect piece be dammed. It was time to cut your losses.

You didn’t take two steps before it happened.

A strange, mechanical, alien sound rattled from behind you. You whipped your head around despite your survival instincts telling you to run immediately. Before your very eyes the red and blue truck started pulling itself part, little pieces forming a much, much larger figure. It looked nearly human really, if not for being impossibly large and also a robot truck.

A gobsmacked look etched itself on your face, not that you noticed it. You were a little preoccupied at the time, with the giant robot reaching a giant robot hand at you. Just then you realized there was a giant robot hand reaching at you, and you screamed louder than any horror movie victim ever could. The hand froze for a second, taken aback by your sudden noise, but when you remained frozen it continued its pursuit.

It was already too late by the time your body agreed to let you move. Incomprehensibly large fingers wrapped around your comparatively small form, gripping you tight enough to stop any struggles you tried to make. The thing held you up to its face, bright blue eyes shining like headlights in your vision. There were plenty of words that came from your mouth at the time, none of which were at any point comprehendible. To your utter shock, the robot seemed to notice this.

“Perhaps I have downloaded the wrong language pack… or I have found the wrong species…” It said to itself in a distinctly human voice.

“Wh- what the- what are- what are you?” Hooray! You got a sentence out. Your heart was not as excited though, as it felt more like it was going to pound out of your chest.

“So you can speak.” The voice boomed, knocking any hope you had of replying out of your throat.

“What?? What???” You rasped out, two words was better than none, you supposed.

“Did I… break you?”

“Did you- no, no you… didn’t. Please don’t.”

“I do not intend to bring you any harm, little one.“

“Then… stop squeezing… me” The grip immediately loosened. You took in a deep breath of air. “Thank you…”

“My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to hurt you.”

“That’s good to know… but, um, what exactly are you? I asked it before but… you know.” The robot nodded with you, a thoughtful motion but a generally unwelcome one because even the smallest moments it made caused you a bout nausea.

“Yes, introductions. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots.” Optimus Prime… a strange name. Though it’s not like your current situation was any more normal.

“…I’m Whyen, nice to meet you. Could you… put me down, by any chance?” Optimus nodded, gently setting you down. He stood up again, but realized how much you had to crane your neck up to see him, so he resolved to a kneel.

“What are you.” However tough he looked on the outside, you would feel the sheer curiosity oozing off his voice.

“Uh, I’m a human.”

“Human… and you’re the dominant species on this planet?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I see. I was lucky to find a vehicle mode with your language on it.”

“I… don’t really know what that means but ok. So, what are you?”

“I am Cybertronian, from the planet Cybertron.”

“Huh. Another planet.” You kicked by the oncoming existential crisis in hopes of more answers. “Right… so, if you’re from space, why are you here?” His face suddenly shifted from curiosity to a grim look of remembrance.

“There is a war on my planet. Me and my team have ended up here on accident, I’m afraid.”

“Oh… well, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I have no intention of staying here longer than we have to, doing so could endanger this entire planet.”

“Wait, what? The- all- the whole planet?”

“Yes,” He responded in a low, distant voice. “Our enemies, unlike us, would not hesitate to destroy any planet if it meant winning the war.” You started at him in shock. In an attempt to avoid further panic, you decided to take a different route on questioning.

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“The Autobots, my friends.”

“So you’re saying… you’re leading your side of the war? Like a general?”

“Yes, to put it simply.”

“Wow… this is… a lot. How are you going to find your friends?”

“I… do not know. I was attempting to contact them before I noticed you.“

“Oh…”

“Do not worry. If the Deceptions attack this planet, we will protect it with our very sparks. A young species such as yourselves do not deserve to be punished for our mistakes.” Your expression softened. As this metal titan spoke to you, in gentle, deep tones, you felt strangely at peace. You felt silly for ever being afraid of him, like you’d known this alien for ages. He didn’t even know you, yet he was willing to risk his life for your home.

“…Thank you.”

“Do not thank me now, young human, I have yet to get your people out of harms way.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Optimus’s eyes widened for just a second before his face broke into a warm smile.

“…I will be just fine.”

“Well, if it’s my planet at stake… I want to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. I know more about this planet than you do, so I can show you how things work around here. It’s the least I can do.”

“That is very kind of you, you have my thanks.”

“Well, first I have to get home and sleep- my house isn’t too far from here, and I live alone so you don’t have to worry about anyone else freaking out. Not many people live around here.”

“That is good. I… apologies if I am too bold, is it okay if I carry you back to your home? It would be in our best interest to get to your home as fast as possible.”

“Ah, true. Well, I guess so.” He laid out his hand. It took you a second to climb on a stabilize yourself, nodding when you were ready for him to move. And he did, and you guided him all the way home. You hardly even noticed the junkyard and forgotten scrap metal you’d spent the night collecting.

Some things are more important.

[icarustypicalfall]

Dangerously yours

Simon Ghost Riley

summary: "In the depths of his being, he eluded your grip. For the first time in an eternity, he allowed himself to pursue it, to chase after its essence, and to surrender his very core to its consuming power."

warnings: poetic?, sfw, simon is a mysterious man

notes: happy two months to this account!! tysm for everyone who helped me make it this far, ily <3

don't judge this fic, first time writing about our silly ghost, hope it matched his character.. I'd appreciate any advices about him <3

✧･ﾟ: *. ✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･.°•･ﾟﾟ・゜゜・．•

..We lay here for years or for hours,

So long we become the flowers..

The sky was dark, lightning struck through the clouds, and rainfall ensued. Simon nudged your side, urging you to move closer. There was no place where you and he felt more vulnerable and free than this hill, nestled deep in the forest, where the sky and ocean meet. You swung your legs lazily, gazing at the rocks and trees below in the piedmont. A sense of peace washed over you as you let your gaze roam amidst the tempestuous nature.

The ground felt harsh beneath your palms and tender flesh, yet you paid it little attention. It still offered more softness in some ways than the harsh reality that enveloped you and your teammates each day.

Droplets of rain began to pour, and neither Simon nor you moved an inch.

His face remained still, as it always did, concealing a raging war within his soul that only you had caught a glimpse of.

Even after all these years, you still managed to recognize the face beneath that mask. Countless times, you had brushed your fingertips against the tender skin of his face.

No words were needed; you had made a promise before unveiling the true nature hidden within his soul and heart.

Before joining the task force, you never realized the depth of silence's language. It was only after warming up to your cold lieutenant that you truly grasped this reality.

At first, Simon completely ignored you, pushing away that tightening feeling in his chest. He didn't want to form attachments. He yearned for your love more than his next breath, yet he was not prepared for the consequences that came with a relationship. It wasn't death he was afraid of; no, it was the thought of losing you.

He refused to acknowledge his feelings, choosing instead to watch over you from afar like the ghost he was. He observed you, maintaining a distance for his own sake. The mask on his face was a source of gratitude, concealing the chuckles that would arise when you acted smart with the captain or teased Johnny about his accent during dinner. Not to mention the countless pranks you and Gaz had shared, along the desk duty afterwards.

There was something special about you that he couldn't quite grasp. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to pursue it, to chase after it, and to let it consume his very being.

Just like when he trained rookies every Tuesday morning with you. You were always ahead, never once late. He admired that about you, along with the many other qualities that made you irresistible in the eyes of the stoic lieutenant.

He barked orders at the rookies, firm and precise, waiting for them to shoot and miss. It happened more than once, and he swore he would lose his mind over these thick-skulled soldiers who couldn't hit, for gid sake, a single unmoving target. You, on the other hand, gracefully moved between the rookies, like a poised zephyr, gently instructing and assisting the nervous ones and helping them avoid the angry man.

You and Simon were different, yet somehow the same mud, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

You were calm; an ocean of tranquility that concealed a past that nothing could erase.

Simon was calm; a dark sky that promised a raging storm to follow.

Simon was the shifting sands, always changing. You, on the other hand, remained constant. A loyal sergeant, "a collected lassie" as Johnny affirmed, "with a witty sense of humor", as Gaz added. Captain Price simply nodded, his gaze shifting from your figure training away from them to the Ghost standing nearby, who murmured softly, finally releasing something he didn't realize he would ever say. "And great eyes."

The captain understood. Years of serving alongside the Ghost had given him some insight into the man, not entirely, mind you, but enough to comprehend what troubled him.

Love, Attraction, Affection...

Words with which Simon was well-acquainted, he comprehended the concept of love, had experienced it, and had been loved in return.

However, it was not until that fateful day in Mexico, when you tended to his wounded abdomen in a safe house, disregarding your own injuries and focusing solely on his, that he truly grasped the profound meaning of the word. As your fingertips skillfully treated his scarred skin, he felt an indescribable sensation, causing goosebumps to rise.

Assuming his hand was on his heart due to a chill, you were unaware that his heartbeats were overpowering him, igniting an intense fire within his body. Embarrassed by this overwhelming surge of emotions, he made every effort to regain his composure, even as his mind raced with thoughts. After you finished patching his stomach, aware that the lieutenant would not say much, you stood up. But a firm grip on your wrist halted your departure, causing you to sit back down as instructed. "wait," he ordered firmly, yet you still felt a certain uncertainty and a faint plea in the word.

He removed his mask, discarding it carelessly. You were already familiar with his face, so it came as no surprise when his fatigued grey eyes met yours. A trickle of blood across his temple caught your attention, prompting a frown to appear on your face. "Are you injured?" you asked, scanning his head for any signs of damage, but finding none. Your hand instinctively reached out to cup his temple, wiping away the trace of blood from a tiny cut. "Here?"

He blinked, releasing a long sigh before taking hold of your hand. Anticipating that he would push it away, you were surprised when he instead brought it to his chest, allowing it to rest gently on the tattered remains of his black shirt, directly above his heart. In a husky whisper, his eyes locked with yours, he uttered, "Here..."

Simon Riley was a mysterious man, but you understood that there were limits to what you needed to know. You did not delve into his past, and he was immensely grateful for your discretion. Through your affection and care, you enveloped him in a love that made him truly comprehend its profound essence. His previous notions of love as a curse, afflicting unfortunate individuals and functioning as a poison that consumed their thoughts before leading them to their demise, were now replaced with a newfound understanding. You made him experience a love unlike any he had encountered before.

Simon's gentle nudge, firmer this time, brought you back to the present. He offered a weary smile, his once dark grey eyes now lighter since the time you began your relationship, meeting your gaze. Sensing his touch on your face, not forceful but enough to capture your attention, you felt his calloused fingers, marked by their service, trace across your cold, rain-kissed cheek. "You are beautiful," he murmured.

You had heard this phrase countless times before, whether from colleagues, friends, or past lovers. Yet, when it rolled off his tongue, it felt different. You nodded, acknowledging the sentiment and allowing it to infuse your soul with peace and affection.

He coughed, fidgeting with his free hand in his pocket. Resting your head on his shoulder, you basked in the warmth that radiated from him, embracing you tightly. Your hand trailed along his knee, lightly patting his wet, dark jeans. Taking a deep breath, you felt the rain wash away your sorrows.

Simon cupped your free hand, delicately sliding a familiar metallic band onto your finger. Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at the man beside you and the exquisite ring adorning your hand. The black diamond shimmered, and you would have wagered it cost more than your monthly paycheck. He smirked, whispering softly as he pressed his lips against your hand, now adorned with the piece of jewelry

"Yes?"

A cry escaped your lips as you tightly embraced him. You knew he smiled, his hand resting gently on your back, providing a comforting pat.

In choosing to spend another chapter of his life with you, he desired nothing more than to be with you for the remainder of this lifetime.

Every part of him felt incomplete, yet he willingly entrusted you with the fragment that he still possessed. He believed that you would vanquish the darkness that plagued his heart, allowing the radiance of love to fill his chest.

Like a gentle butterfly, you landed upon him, kissing his heart and soul, declaring it your eternal abode.

He did not require a metallic band to prove your connection, for you had known it long ago and had been living it ever since.

Nevertheless, he felt an irresistible urge to offer you something, a grateful whisper, a constant reminder, in case he did not return one day, or in case you needed to fend off unwanted attention. He wished to claim you as his own because he was dangerously yours.

MASTERPOST

𓆩♡𓆪 kindly like and rebelog 𓆩♡𓆪

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Sweet Nothing with Shua

pairing: Joshua x reader

tags: angst, fluff at the end, boyfriend Joshua, non-idol!au, mentions of childhood issues and disordered eating

summary: Graduation just got over and you’re all but happy. You watch as each of your friends leaves and as you leave. Change has never been easy for you, especially when it triggers all the instability of your childhood. But there is one person you will always find yourself coming back to- Joshua. After three years of navigating life and university together, he's your home. And now you get to literally come home to his sweet nothings in your new house and your heart will heal itself from the pains of life.

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: Inspired by the lines "Outside, they're push and shoving, You're in the kitchen humming, All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing" from Taylor Swift's Sweet Nothing.

masterlist | Let me know your thoughts and feedback.

Change, it was a rude temptress. It lures you in with the promise of shiny places, bright lights and adventures. It’s a hoax. It takes you to uncomfortable, odd places with random strangers that make you miss home.

Change takes your closest friends away from you.

Change is the reason you're walking back home on a cold unfamiliar path, toward a driveway you don't immediately recognise and to a house currently filled with cardboard boxes.

Life had turned around in less than a month's time. You'd known it would change, you had all been preparing for it. Yet none of you were ready for the real thing. Even when you had sat through every packing session with your friends-some packing things into a suitcase, some in cardboard boxes, talking through a million memories and making promises of holding on.

You watched as your friend group, the one that had fit perfectly like pieces of a puzzle slowly began drifting away. Except now each of you carried a part of the others' pieces too. Some moving seas away, some moving just far enough that it still feels like uncharted territory.

You had told yourself you would be brave about this. You would not let this affect you and trigger all the childhood issues attached to it. For the most part, you held onto your words. You'd cleared your dorm and moved bunches of cardboard boxes to a new and unfamiliar place. You had said your greetings to unfamiliar faces, in a stiff outfit at your new place of work. You said goodbyes to two of your closest friends at the airport in the span of a week, without breaking into a single tear.

But the emotional baggage had come out in other ways. In a cowardly move, you began pushing away your boyfriend. The one you had moved in with just weeks ago. The same boyfriend who had helped you through multiple hard times in the three years of university, all with his polite smile and kind heart. The very thought of his kindness made you hurt with guilt. He did not deserve the pain you were putting him through, especially when you both were supposed to be celebrating this fresh and beautiful chapter of your relationship. That is why you stop five steps in front of the new apartment that now belonged to the two of you, looked at his car in the driveway and decided to turn back and take another walk around the block. You needed to clear your head so that you could stop hurting him.

Shua watches from the kitchen window as you turn around and walk away. He leans back on the cabinet and rubs his eyes with his hands. He has tried everything to comfort you and give you the space you needed. He understands that this has been a hard time for you, it has been for him too. He's had to say his own goodbyes and adjust to new places too.

Joshua understands better than anyone else just how hard this might be for you. He also knows that he can't make this right or tell you to process your emotions in a different way. But it is breaking his heart to see you hurt yourself in the process. He's been waiting for a whole week to hear you say more than three words at once. He has had to sit in front of you and watch you refuse every bite of food for a week and it breaks a piece of him every time.

He has been trying his best to help you, from beside and from afar. It felt unfair to him too but he knows this has been triggering all the issues from your childhood and your pushing him away had nothing to do with your relationship at the moment.

Joshua sighs another time, he should not let himself get sucked in his insecurities too. He knows you will come back to him, he knows you will tuck yourself into his arms in sleep like you do every night. And he knows he will pull himself away before you wake up so that you don't feel more guilty than you already do. Till your guilt and pain are ready to be let out, Joshua will wait on the sidelines and remind you that he is still there and your life will continue.

The smell. That is the first thing you notice when you enter the house an hour after deciding to walk around the block. You got sidetracked at the park and ended up staring at trees as you processed everything. You now felt it all but also felt too numb. The emotions and thoughts had gotten too much and you desperately needed to cry in the comfort of your home. That's why you walked back to find Joshua.

You still remember the first time you let yourself cry in his arms after a very painful call with your dad and how he'd held you delicately through it all. He was the first person you had cried in front of since your parent, and it felt good. To finally be held as you broke down, to be reminded that you aren't entirely broken. It felt like home when he hugged you so tight that your heart healed itself.

With tears brimming in your eyes as you look around the dimly lit house, unable to move from the doorstep, the smell gets to you. It smelt like chocolate and flour. You couldn't quite place the smell but you knew someone had baked something and something had definitely burnt at least once. You looked around the living room but all you could hear was a faint hum.

You walked toward the kitchen and a silhouette came into view. Joshua standing, with his back to you, working on something on the counter as hums a song like an angel. He was wearing your old pastel pink apron around his waist, you could see multiple stains on his plain white t-shirt. You smiled as you saw how ruffled his hair was and there was definitely flour on the strands. The smile on your face forms automatically and so do the tears.

It hits you in a wave, the realisation that no matter how hard everything else in the world gets, and how many things change, Shua is here in your shared kitchen, humming as he tries his best to bake you muffins. That's all you need. That's everything he needs- the sweet nothings. The whole world can push you and hurt you, but you'll find yourself in Shua's arms, doing nothing and feeling the joy of everything.

The tears are now pouring like a monsoon rain down your cheeks and you take three big steps before tapping him on the shoulder.

Shua is startled by the sudden tap on his shoulders and he turns with the whisk still in his hands from the mess of a muffin he was desperately trying to make- for the second time that evening. He's even more surprised when he sees you pull him into an embrace. He stays still hands open wide, a whisk dripping chocolate sauce in one hand, as he watches you hold to him so tight he could barely breathe. He stayed still, feeling your sniffs against his chest, your tears soaking up his shirt.

Shua moves very slowly to place his hand around you such that he is cradling your head. He rubs circles on your scalp as you lean into him further and cry your heart out. His heart clenches as he cannot bear to see you so worn down and hurt, but another part of him is glad you chose to come back to him and let out your emotions. Shua understands that with love comes a lot of pain and he cannot expect it all to be gone just because the two of you are in love. All he wants is for the two of you to always come running back to the other when everything and everyone else makes life hard.

You cry till you can't physically anymore. The two of you stay there the entire time, unsure of the time. After you broke out into full-blown sobs, you feel tear drops dampen your hair, you know Shua was tearing up too. He always did. Neither of you could stand the other crying.

So you both stayed there, crying out the pain- the pain of growing up, of moving on, of letting go, of facing your demons, of looking at the start of your life, of an uncertain future and the fear of losing. Shua and you held each other through the fears, a promise to hold on and help each other heal. To hold each other through the storms, the soul deconstructors and through the trials and tribulations of life.

You finally feel lighter and pull yourself back to see his face. Shua is already looking down at you with his sweet smile and eyes that light up your soul. his hair is messy with flour tangled between strands and you finally notice the whisk that has been dripping chocolate sauce all over the kitchen floor and is thoroughly drenched in your tears and chocolate stains.

"Hi." Your voice comes out in a croak and both of you end up cracking up.

"Hello to you too ma'am." He says, his honey-like voice filling up the cracks of your heart.

"You're making something?" You ask feigning innocence as he gives you an embarrassed smile scratching his hair.

"I was trying to bake muffins."

You let out a small smile, "For me?"

He nods and you feel your eye tear up a little more. Shua's eyes widen with worry.

"Babe no. Don't cry. I can clean this all up and maybe we can order real muffins. Or whatever you need. Please don't cry again, my heart can't take it. And your eyes will certainly not be able to take anymore crying." He says in such a state of pure fright and panic that it endears you wholly.

You shake your head, laughing. "No Shua I am not crying don't worry."

"Thank god."

"But I think we should try to salvage these muffins and clean the kitchen." He nods looking around the mess he has made.

"And maybe you should change your t-shirt first." You say as you try your best not to stare at his drenched shirt, sticking to him in all the right places.

Shua smirks, "Oh why babe, is it tempting you?" He asks knowing full well the answer.

You roll your eyes as a blush creeps up your cheeks, "Oh, please it's nothing new."

He hums and strokes a finger across your cheek, "Uh-huh. Is that why you're red as a tomato."

You mock glare at him and pull away from his touch. "If that's how you want to play it, then I'm gonna leave you to clean this mess on your own." He groans. "And, you will sleep on the couch tonight." You add and he looks terribly scared now that it makes you grin.

"Alright alright, let's order good food, clean this up and head to bed." He says and pulls you into an embrace which you graciously acept.

"Thank you." You hear him murmur and look up at his face questioningly at him.

"For coming back to me." He says with a sweet smile and you lean forward to kiss him in response.

As if you would go anywhere but home.

[sariahsue]

Wherefore Art Thou (My)stery Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

Chapter Four

“She really hasn't given you any more hints?” Nino asked. “It's been five days!”

Adrien loved group projects. It meant that there was a chance that he could visit with friends outside of school hours. And given how lucky he had been over the past few days, it didn't even surprise him when Ms. Bustier partnered him with Nino on their history project. 

They sat on his floor together, taking a much-deserved break. Adrien was rereading his texts from Ladybug again, looking for any clues he might have missed. 

Nino was right. It had been five days. Five long days of torture. He hadn’t seen her since their rendezvous on top of Montparnasse Tower, but she had seen him. She’d sent three pictures she’d taken of him when he wasn’t looking. He had his back turned in each one, and he’d been in large crowds as he walked in the hallway in between classes or at the end of the day. Times where there were so many people around that he couldn’t narrow down who she could be, which was deliberate on her part, he was certain. 

They were so close, and he still couldn’t find her.

His phone buzzed with an incoming message.

My Lady – I accidentally called you Kitten in front of my best friend this morning. So embarrassing!  My Lady – I told her I chose that nickname because of all the stupid cat emojis you send me. Adrien – Is that permission to keep sending them to you? My Lady – No.  Adrien – Too bad. Adrien –  😻😽😸

Nino shuffled over, and Adrien scanned the message quickly. Nothing that would arouse suspicion if read. 

“‘My Lady’?” Nino said, reading the contact name at the top. “Getting a little possessive already, huh?”

“No!” Adrien flipped his phone over to hide the messages. “Uh, ‘My’... is short... for ‘mystery.’ She's a mystery lady, but that was too long to fit. So, My Lady.”

“I don't believe you at all, dude, but I'll give you full points for that excuse.” Nino returned to his spot on the floor and started scrolling through his own phone, which he kept hidden from Adrien's view. “You like her already, huh?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. He and Nino hadn't talked much about it, aside from that first day. Adrien had been too busy trying to piece together who Ladybug was, and he was getting frustrated. All he'd done so far was eliminate everyone in the school. Realizing he missed her on his first pass, he tried again. He looked at the yearbook, made a list of everything he knew about her, spent almost all his time in class puzzling over her, and he'd still come up empty. 

“You should ask her out,” Nino said. “I've known her for a long time, and I think you two would be good for each other.”

Adrien nodded. He'd always thought so. “I asked already.”

“You did? Why didn't you tell me?”

“She said yes, assuming I could figure out who I'm asking!” Adrien flipped onto his back and stared at the high ceiling above him. “You’re not allowed to give me any hints, but what is she like?”

“How's that not a hint?”

“Because I already know what she's like.” He raised the phone, implying that he’d gotten to know her through texting and not midnight rooftop strolls. “I just want a different perspective. Maybe I just need the same information from a new angle.”

“If she gets mad at me, I'm blaming you.”

“But she wants to go out with me, right? So you're really trying to help her.”

“How about this,” Nino said. “I won't tell her if you won't.”

“Deal.”

Nino had been typing away on his screen, cap hiding his eyes, through the whole conversation and finally lifted his head. 

Adrien listened intently as Nino started listing Ladybug's familiar traits.

“She's very creative and sweet, but still tough when she wants to be.” 

Adrien knew both of those well from fighting alongside her. She could come up with the most ridiculous plans and execute them flawlessly. She'd stare down a monster and then turn around and help someone who'd been trying to kill her moments before. 

“She's good at video games.” Another one that he knew, but had forgotten. He'd have to write that down on the list.

“And she can be pretty shy and nervous sometimes. It took her forever to tell you that she likes you.” 

Adrien hadn't thought about it like that. She'd admitted to being anxious and awkwardly obvious about her crush (not that he'd been able to figure out that clue either), but he hadn't mentally added that trait to his image of her. She always seemed so confident and self-assured, and he loved that about her. He'd only ever seen her truly nervous on that first day. 

“That's all you're getting.”

“None of it was really new information,” he said. “But thanks for reminding me of some things.”

“Sure, dude.”

Adrien's phone alerted him to another message. 

My Lady – So... Mystery Lady, huh?

Adrien turned to Nino. “You texted her about that? Since when have you had her number?” 

“Since the day she got her phone.”

My Lady – That was smooth. Plus, now you can use my favorite nickname! Adrien – I could just break into Nino's phone and check his messages, you know. My Lady – That would be cheating! Don't you dare!

“Am I going to do this project by myself?” Nino asked. “Or should I call your girlfriend and ask if I can borrow some of your attention?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” And he was, until the next text from her came in. Nino sighed but didn’t complain as Adrien reflexively reached for his phone.  

My Lady – Kitten, my homework is boring, and I don't want to do it. Talk to me.  Adrien – What do you want me to say? My Lady – I don't know. Anything. Adrien – Okay... 

He searched the room for inspiration but found none. The first thing that caught his attention on his phone was his name for her.

Adrien – What did you name my contact? My Lady – Uh...  My Lady – …  My Lady – Nothing...  Adrien – Nothing as in just a blank space, or nothing as in something that you don't want to say? My Lady – NOTHING Adrien – Uh huh. So what is it? Adrien – Hm? Adrien – Aren't you going to tell me? My Lady – No.  Adrien – Why not? My Lady – I'm going to delete your number if you don't stop asking! Adrien – That won't do anything. I'll just text you again, and then you'll have it again. My Lady – Please unsubscribe me from your mailing list.  Adrien – Is it just a string of hearts or something? My Lady – The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Adrien – Or maybe it's “Hot Stuff”? My Lady – New phone. Who dis? Adrien – Wow. It must be reeealllly embarrassing if you don't want to tell me this badly.  My Lady – FINE! My Lady – When I found out who you were, I changed your contact to “Future Husband.” OKAY?!?!?!

If Plagg could see his face right now, Adrien was sure the kwami would gag. He was probably smiling like an idiot. She really thought that it was a possibility?

“You good, dude?”

Adrien only nodded because how was he supposed to explain? Ladybug - LADYBUG - really had decided that she wanted to marry him?!

She was also still waiting for his response. Probably anxiously. Should he gush about how much he loved her or continue with his teasing?

Teasing won out.

Adrien – Oh, Bugaboo, you didn't even buy me a ring yet! My Lady – SHUT UP I'M GOING TO CHANGE IT Adrien – Please don't. Adrien – My ring size is 29, in case you were wondering.  My Lady – That's not even a real size. Adrien – Oh.  Adrien – Father doesn't sell jewelry, so I don't know anything about it. Haha. My Lady – Average sizes are usually between 5 and like 10 or 11. My Lady – In case you were wondering... My Lady – Mine’s 4 and a half.

---

Adrien walked into school the next morning (on time, thankfully! The photographer had been 10 minutes late to the shoot and traffic was horrible all morning) ready to watch the front door for any stragglers who showed up late. He still didn't have any ideas about who Ladybug could be, and he was starting to think he was missing the obvious. So he stood in the middle of the courtyard and scanned faces as they trickled in, but no one in particular stood out to him. No girl was the same height, looked just right, sounded like her, or moved the same way. Over several minutes, the courtyard started filling up. Starting from the doors, he slowly rotated until he’d done a full circle, double checking if someone had slipped past him. Nino was the only one in the crowd who caught his attention.

“Hey, bro!” Nino said, waving as he approached. “You look distracted, which means you haven't figured it out yet.”

“No! And she still won't give me another hint!”

“That's because you have enough to figure it out with, man. You're trying too hard.” He swung an arm over Adrien's shoulders. “Just look at your contact list and find the hole. Should be obvious, my dude.” It was easy for Nino to give advice. He had found out who she was the easy way ages ago.

But Ladybug kept telling him that, too. Plagg, when he didn't avoid the subject entirely, said much the same thing. 

Adrien reached for his phone, but his scroll through his contact list was interrupted by an incoming text image. 

There he and Nino were, in the middle of the crowded courtyard, looking at his phone. Adrien's head snapped up. The photographer had been directly in front of him on the upper level, but that area was now deserted. 

“Come on,” Adrien said. “Maybe we can catch her.” 

He took the stairs two at a time while Nino hollered for him to slow down. Adrien had no plan to do anything of the sort. His Lady had been there just a few seconds ago. She couldn't have gotten far. 

Reaching the top step, he took another look around. There were a few corners that she could be hiding behind, or she could have ducked into a classroom. He debated for only a second. What would Ladybug do if she was trying to trip him up? Probably go where the most people were so she could hide in plain sight. He poked his head into the nearest classroom. A few people waved to him, but no one he knew well enough to have traded phone numbers with. 

He tried a few more, then doubled back and checked the alcoves. There were a lot of people that he knew, and because he was in such a hurry, all of them seemed to want to say hello to him. He stayed only long enough each time to give a very hurried explanation that he was looking for someone in order to excuse himself before running off again. 

“Hey!” Nino said, finally catching up with him. “Will you slow down?”

“Did you see her anywhere? Please tell me that much. Did I overlook her again?”

“I haven't seen her,” Nino said, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. “What did you eat for breakfast, man? Rocket fuel? I haven't seen you run like that since the last akuma. Or…” Nino put his hat back on and smiled, “do you really just want to find her that bad?”

Two minutes after running out of the courtyard, Adrien found himself up at the top of the stairs overlooking it. He walked to the railing, where Ladybug had been standing when she took her picture of him. She'd been so close, and she'd slipped through his fingers again. He needed to figure her identity out soon, or she’d be the death of him (in the best way possible). 

The courtyard was emptier than it had been a few minutes prior. The flow of students through the front doors had been reduced to a trickle. Only a few stragglers remained at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to go to class until the very last second.

“I think the bell's about to ring,” Nino said, tapping him on the shoulder. “We should go.”

Adrien sighed. Another attempt to find her had ended in failure. 

They trudged back down the stairs to their first class. A few of their friends were ahead of them in the hallway, including Alya and Marinette, who were whispering together. He heard Alya congratulating Marinette about something. He heard only a few words, “likes you a lot!” and “interested.” What were they talking about? He picked up his pace, hoping to get close enough to catch more of the conversation, but Nino called out to them over the crowd to get their attention before he reached them.

Alya cut off her next sentence abruptly and spun around, eyes going to Adrien first before landing on Nino.

“Good morning!” Marinette said, eyes shining. Was he imagining it, or was her gaze lingering on him longer than it usually did? “What have you two been up to this morning? Looking for that mystery lady of yours again?”

“You know about that?” Adrien groaned. “How many people know?” 

A few people shoved past him to get to their classrooms. He hadn't realized they were blocking the traffic.

“Nino told me about it,” Marinette said, starting to walk forward again. “He said you were having some trouble figuring out who she was. Do you want some help?” Behind her back, Nino and Alya exchanged deadpan looks.

“Yeah,” he said. “That would be great. I've tried everything I can think of.” 

Marinette thought about it for a few seconds, tapping her finger to her lips in a slow, exaggerated movement. He glanced down at the finger briefly before turning his attention back to her eyes. 

“Have you tried tricking her into giving you more information? Like ask her about something that happens at school today that only some people know about. Then, if she sees it, you have fewer people to guess from. Maybe you could cat-ch her that way?” She put more emphasis on the first half of the word “catch,” but he wasn't sure why. “What about the assembly today?��

“That's a great idea, Marinette! Thanks!” That was a fantastic idea. The assembly was only for their grade, and if she saw it too, that would really narrow down the pool of candidates. And even if she didn’t, he could exclude an entire grade from his search. He would have to word his questions just right, so she wouldn’t think he was asking for another hint. If she knew he was looking for a way around the rules of her challenge, she might not answer. Or worse, be unhelpful on purpose.

“You're welcome,” she said. “I really hope you find her soon.”

Adrien blinked, surprised to find himself and Marinette alone in the hallway in front of their first period class. His mind was still thinking up exactly how he would pose his questions to seem the most innocent. 

“Really, Marinette. Thank you. I really want to find her.” 

She beamed at him as the bell rang, and they both ran for the classroom door. 

With Marinette’s help, and a little bit of his Lady’s luck, he might know was behind the mask by the end of the day. And he couldn’t wait.

Chapter Five

---

Tag list: @eclipsesmoonshine14, @alittlewolf2, @mlbigbang

[chirpsythismorning]

Crack Theory: Will Byers is Twelve (12) - Part 1

Hear me out!

With all the theories swirling around about Will potentially being connected to the lab pre-season 1, maybe even a lab kid himself, I had to go back and rewatch the lab scenes from s4.

I honestly thought I wouldn't find anything. I think a lot of people assume it's not possible for Will to have been a lab kid, or at least not to have been a lab kid present at the same time as El.

However, upon rewatching those scenes in particular, I noticed something. Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces began falling into place.

The first time we ever see Twelve on screen, we focus in on him picking out a couple of boxes of crayons to play with...

Now, I know you might be thinking this isn't anything substantial, especially seeing as a lot of the kids at Hawkins Lab utilize drawing as a technique to test out their abilities... but honestly, it only get's more interesting from here.

Let me start by acknowledging that the lab kids tend to rank in age. One (Henry) for example, was the oldest. Two appeared to be the second oldest, and so on and so forth.

And so hypothetically speaking, if Will were to be an og lab kid, it seems he would really only fit into the spots near El since they are believed to be roughly the same age; one year apart, more or less. Which would make Will most likely Ten, Twelve, or Thirteen.

Twelve in particular though, fits the bill because of a few key details.

Lets start at the beginning of season 4:

4x01: The Hellfire Club

For reference, on this date, Will would've been 8 years old.

First, we open to the Rainbow Room in Hawkins Lab.

The camera lingers on a few different kids, some very briefly, while others are given a bit more time on-screen. Though,Twelve is arguably given more focus than any of the other kids in this scene (besides Ten, followed by Eleven at the ending of this scene).

When we first see Twelve, we stumble across him picking up these crayons. Then we follow him as he finds a spot to presumably color.

Just to confirm the (pencil) crayons:

And as Twelve goes to sit down, that's when I realized... He's sits next to Eleven...

If this crack theory ends up being true, the framing/blocking of this shot might have been very, very intentional:

(above) El and Will sitting side by side over 8 years later, in the exact same episode

Even though I was intrigued, I was still mostly skeptical. And so I kept looking for more hints that might help support this as a possibility.

We don't get any more major Hawkins Lab scenes again (disregarding a couple intense quick flashback sequences El experiences) until 4x05.

4x05 : The Nina Project

As El walks into the Rainbow Room for the first time officially this season, we get a shot of her looking to the right to see Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen all playing together. The focus on them is brief, followed by a reaction shot from El, who just looks confused.

Then we get a shot of her looking to her right, and even though there are three people technically in this shot, the camera only really focuses on Twelve. And what he's doing doesn't just feel like a kid playing mindlessly, it feels like something else is going on here...

Why have El look at what Twelve is doing all cryptically? Is he just building a red tower and she's super intrigued? Or, could it be something else the Duffer's are trying to hint at?

I just think it's interesting, that despite Twelve's role being extremely minor, he's still focused on in a way that's more present than most of the other numbers. His scenes are nowhere near as major as Two for example, but they're also not as brief as the other younger kids.

What then follows is El getting stuck in the Henry time-loop.

As this is happening... besides Henry and El, look who else just so happens to be in the frame, with that peculiar red block tower:

TWELVE? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?

Like come on, isn't this standard Will Byers behavior? Will just lingering in the background? And this trend only continues.

But first, lets not forget what follows directly after this:

OKAY I have to make a part 2 because there's still a lot to go through and I don't want this to get too crowded! Meet you there!

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

[em1e]

夏 + 五条 // OLVIDADA ⠀ ༝ ༝ gojo satoru + geto suguru ⠀ ༝ ༝ 2.9k words ⠀ ⚠︎ angst :3 this is a cyoe story ! [ endings are tbp ] ⠀ — [ part 1 ] you were supposed to be dead, but by some miracle gojo's found you. gojo, too.

i. alive

“So,” he starts after taking a sip of his drink, “where have you been all these years?” 

You pause for a second longer than necessary, letting your finger run around the rim of your cup before sighing, “I lost my memory a few years ago . . . “ And he lets you delve into the same story you told Gojo, Geto hanging onto every word you say like it’s the last thing he could ever hear from you. 

“. . . and Gojo and I have been kinda just been getting to know each other again.” 

You only look back up at him when you’ve finished retelling your most recent memories, wanting to try and gauge his reaction based on what you’ve told him. 

He’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head towards you, “So Gojo and you, you’ve been bonding?” 

You laugh a little, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and scrunching your nose, “Something like that, I guess. More like catching up? He’s trying to help me remember anything, but it isn’t really helping.” 

Your smile turns sheepish, looking back down to your coffee, “It is nice to hear about the memories, though - they’re just new stories but me and you and Gojo are the stars.” 

The analogy is . . . cute. Very fitting with your current profession, and not at all something Geto could expect when surrounded by curses. There’s something so innocent about it, so pure that has him clutching his sleeves in his fists and sending another smile your way. 

“So how do you deal with it all?” The question leaves you with furrowed brows, head tilting to the side as if you need him to elaborate. 

“‘It all’?” You repeat, unsure of what kind of answer he’s really looking for, “I mean, I’ve been to therapy I guess, when I was younger and still trying to figure everything out, but I’ve got a handle on it all now and - “

“You’ve figured it all back out on your own?” 

You almost want to be annoyed at how frequently he’s interrupting you, coddled by Gojo the past few weeks reminding you how different the two are, but his saccharine smile never falters and you can’t really find it in yourself to be upset.  He’s just curious, after all. 

“Most of it, yeah,” you hum, unsure of yourself, “but it’s been easier with Gojo around - and now you too, hopefully.” Your smile mimics his own, and he’s reminded of one of the last photos you took together as a group, eyes squinted and head tilted. He thinks about that memory often, chaining it to his heart and he wonders for a moment if it’s something Gojo has mentioned to you. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

ii. scattered

You and Geto part ways after talking for hours (up until the cafe closes - the workers have to politely ask you to leave), and you promise to keep in contact. Something warm settles in your chest, happy to have another portion of your past back, even if it’s only bit by bit. Like piecing a puzzle together. 

When you make it to your apartment, only half-paying attention to what you’re doing while trying to send a text to Geto so he has your number, you bump shoulders with someone. Immediate apologies fall off your lips, almost dropping your phone in favor of assisting whoever you’ve just run into, when you fully process the mop of white hair in front of you. 

“Oh! Hey Gojo, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you smile, moving past him to unlock your front door, “you won’t believe who I just talked to.” 

“I was just in the neighborhood,” he waves dismissively and follows behind you as you push your door open, “you’re not gonna tell me you ran into a celebrity without me, are you?” 

“No,” you laugh, sliding off your shoes while he shuts the door and does the same, “I ran into Geto!” 

You miss the way he freezes, too busy putting away your bag and putting on a pot of tea to notice, and he recovers relatively quickly, all things considered. 

“That so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, “we talked for the last like . . . three hours? Would’ve never known it was him without you showin’ me that picture.”

When you turn to face him, he’s still hovering by the door. Maybe he hasn’t recovered as much as he thought. 

It makes you pause your ramblings, “Something wrong? I know you guys aren’t exactly friends-,” you gasp, ”oh god am I bringing up bad memories or something? I’m so sorry, I should’ve-” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, but it does little to ease your concerns, “we still aren’t on the best of terms, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He watches you pull your lip between your teeth, still very anxious at the prospect of making him upset. He steps forward and places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair with a hum, “Promise, it’s fine. Tell me what you guys talked about?” 

Gojo moves past you to turn off the boiling tea, grabbing two cups for the both of you to keep his hands busy while you talk, worried if he doesn’t, you’ll see how they shake. 

You tell him about the various topics you managed to dive into, most being things you’ve already talked about with Gojo, along with some new additions sprinkled into the mix thanks to Geto. 

Gojo is silent as you speak, nursing his cup of tea and shaking his head with a smile when you offer to get him a new cup. You frown, not liking how quiet he is. You poke his temple three times, and he blinks each time, before looking at you. 

“What was that for?”

“Come on, Gojo, conversations need two people to participate,” you hold up that number of fingers, then point at one with your other hand, “it’s no fun if I’m the only one talking.” 

He hums in agreement, and you sigh, shaking his shoulder, “What’s wrong? You’re usually more talkative than I am.” 

“‘M just thinking.” He says dismissively, looking back into his cup to avoid the way your eyes bore into him, seeking more than what he has to offer. 

“That’s dangerous.” You counter instead, tapping at his temple again until he scowls and swats your hand away. 

“Ha ha ha, very funny. You should become a comedian.” 

“You think so? I’d miss my kids too much, but if you think I could, maybe I could take up a second job,” you laugh, “but then I wouldn’t have time for you-” 

“We wouldn’t want to take that from you,” he interrupts before you can finish, “your kids, I mean.” 

“Like I could live without you too.” You hum, knocking your knee into his. 

He gives you a genuine smile at that, and that’s enough to let you go back to whatever you were talking about before. 

ii. dead

“How long were you gonna keep it from me?” 

The words are bitter as Geto spits them out, arms crossing over his chest and head tilting while he takes in his friend. 

His friend, who doesn’t look bothered in the slightest by the venom being thrown his way. 

“Forever, if I could. Was really unlucky they happened to see you.” Gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, kicking at a crumpled piece of paper in the dark alley the two decided to have this chat in. 

“So you found them, and just decided keeping it to yourself was best? That I of all people didn’t deserve to know-” 

“They don’t remember anything about sorcerery.” 

Gojo’s declaration is enough to leave Geto almost gaping, before he squints and straightens his shoulders, “What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said,” Gojo sighs out, leaning against the brick wall, “they don’t remember Jujutsu Tech for training, or any of the missions we went on - I don’t even think they remember how to see curses or use their technique. Think it’s just something that’s blocked in their mind.” 

“Have you tried talking to them about that?” Geto’s curiosity of it all getting the better of him. 

Gojo looks down, shaking his head, “No. I don’t . . . find it worth it. To spoil their happiness like that.” 

Geto clicks his tongue, “I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” Gojo shrugs, stretching, “they’re content with what they know, with the life they’ve built. Neither of us are gonna ruin that for them.” 

“And if I do?” Geto challenges, chin rising and eyes narrowing, “Not like you can keep your eyes on them forever, and I think being a sorcerer is something someone deserves to know about themselves.” 

“I’ll kill you.” Gojo says easily. Calmly, if not for the way he glares behind his blindfold. 

Geto grins, all teeth, “I’d love for you to try.” 

iv. hypomnesia

A few weeks have passed since you first met Geto, and you fear he’s been ghosting you. You’ve sent a couple of texts, but the thought of annoying him overwrites any want to talk to him more, so you leave it be until he decides to message back - if ever. 

You’re submitting grades for some of your students when your phone dings. 

The sound honestly startles you, the classroom being silent other than the sound of your typing, and one glance to the device has you forgoing the B+ grade you were about to put in to instead unlock your phone and read the message. 

Geto 

Meet me at that cafe in two hours? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard while you mull over a reply. 

You

i have plans with gojo then :( i can meet now if you’re free? 

You watch as the gray text bubble pops up, dancing on the screen before disappearing. 

Geto

Sure :) See you soon. 

You shut down your computer with a hum to yourself, making a mental note to finish when you get home before you and Gojo go out to dinner, grab your coat and your bag, and head out the door. 

Geto’s already in the cafe when you arrive, sitting in the same place from before, and offers a small smile when you sit across from him. 

“Were you waiting long? Sorry, I ran into one of my kids’ parents while I was leaving and they dragged me into a conversation about a project-” 

He waves dismissively, “Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t waiting too long.” 

You give a small sigh of relief, shoulders visabley relaxing at this, “Okay good. . . so, what’s up, how have you been these past few weeks?” You smile and Geto can’t stop himself from returning it. 

“‘ve been alright. I actually wanted to talk to you about something, though, if that’s alright. About our past.” 

Your brows shoot up in surprise, head tilting as the waiter brings you your drink. The same thing you’d ordered before. It’s sweet, almost, how he remembered. 

“What do you mean? Gojo and you already told me it all, right?” 

“Well,” he pauses to sip from his own drink, licking his lips before continuing, “it seems Gojo has left out details I thought he’d told you.” 

“Details?” You parrot, head tilting, “what do you mean?” 

He clicks his tongue as if deciding his next words carefully, using the straw to his drink to swirl it around in the cup, “You - we are something called sorcerers. We have abilities that allow us to use cursed techniques and defeat things called curses, and it’s what we attended Jujutsu Tech to train for.”

You’re openly staring at him as he speaks, opening your mouth to reply but stopping yourself when he continues, “When you lost your memory, we were fighting some curses and you . . . you fell off a building, and we couldn’t find you in the rubble after.” He reaches out to grab your hand, and you flinch at the movement, not even realizing you were shaking until his own clasps over yours. 

Everything was blurring around you. 

The ground was rushing towards you so fast and so slow, and the wind whipping around your ears made it harder to process what’d happened seconds before. 

You were hit, you think. By a curse or a person or something. You don’t know. You don’t remember. It hit you, and now you’re falling, and your cursed technique wouldn’t do you any good now if you could use it. 

What even was it again? 

The rush of air flowing past your ears is unbearable, everything around you melting into one mess, until all at once, all you feel is nothing.  

You yank your hand from his with a gasp, eyes wide and cradling it to yourself as if he’s burned you. 

“What was that?” You whisper out, voice quivering. 

Geto’s smile is gentle as he retracts his own hand, placing it atop the other in his lap, “Your memories, I imagine, are back now?” 

“What was that?” You repeat, fingers clutching the front of your shirt as if it could bring you some comfort. Closing your eyes for a second brings everything crashing back to you, the rush of the wind, the feeling of free falling, the chair behind you falls to the ground as you stand abruptly, sucking in a breath as if all the air has been stolen from your lungs. 

Maybe it has, if the way you’re breathing is anything to go by. 

He reaches forward, maybe to comfort you, maybe to help calm you down, but you’re stepping away before you can find out. Hurt flashes in his eyes, only for a second, then he’s dropping his hands back into his lap and gesturing to something to his right. 

Your eyes meet . . . something. A small blob of green fat floating beside Geto, and you cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming or puking or whatever squeak could pass your lips. 

“I think we should take a second to calm down,” he’s starting to say, but you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, hear the way your heartbeat is thumping in your chest, and you’re turning on your heel before you can fully process the movement. 

“(y/n)-” he’s calling out, standing to follow you, but when you don’t turn to acknowledge it, he stays in place. You just need some time alone to process it. He understands. He can wait. 

For you, he can wait. 

You stumble home, avoiding other blobs of flesh and things even taller than you that you can only assume are the curses that Geto’d started to tell you about. Maybe you should’ve stayed long enough to relearn about them. You can only offer a half-hearted apology as your shoulder bumps into someone in the hall to your apartment. 

Vertigo takes over when the familiar smell of Gojo surrounds you, and he catches you before you can fall over. 

“Woah, slow down there, what’s goin’ on?” He asks, leading you to your door when you don’t answer. 

He eases your keys from your shaking hands, unlocking your door and guiding you inside while you hold him like a lifeline. 

“Why dontcha tell me what’s wrong?” He whispers gently as he sets you on the couch, fixing your shirt when it wrinkles but freezing when you grab his wrist to stop him. 

“You didn’t tell me everything.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s almost damning the way you speak. 

“What’re you talking ‘bout?” Gojo asks like you’ve said something silly, like he can’t believe what you’re saying because surely Geto hasn’t ruined this for him - ruined this for you. 

“Curses, Gojo? Techniques and training and-and,” your breathing is getting erratic again, unsteady as your grip tightens around his wrists. 

“I need you to breathe.” His voice is stable as he speaks, even and calm despite the way your eyes are boring into him. Tears poke at the corners of your eyes, fighting to fall, but you blink them away and force yourself to take a breath. 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the life you’ve built.” He explains softly, so fucking softly, it almost makes the anger and panic and every other horrible emotion that found home in your veins slip away. 

But when you close your eyes for a second, you can feel it again. The falling, the open air, the pure fear before you hit the ground - and it has you pushing him away from you by the shoulders to stand with a teary-eyed glare. 

“That wasn’t for you to decide.” You clench your teeth to will the tears from falling, but they do anyway in streaks down your cheeks. 

“Do you think you’ll be happier now, knowing everything? Remembering everything?” 

His tone is nowhere near condescending as he asks, but it bites into you like a bullet because you just don’t know. Would seeing curses make you happier? Would knowing about your past, having your memories back be a good thing like you’d always hoped it would? 

“I need you to leave, Gojo.” It’s surprising how even your tone is, wiping away hastily at your cheeks and standing straighter. 

“C’mon, (y/n), don’t be like that-” 

“I need to think and I-I can’t. I can’t with you here, please, just go.” 

When you look up at him again, he realizes how truly worn you are. Maybe from reseeing curses, maybe from the abruptness of it all. With his mouth in a thin line, he nods and turns on his heel. 

He’ll wait for you to reach out. He can wait. For you, he can wait. 

geto ending [ tbp ] ༝ ༝ gojo ending [ tbp ]

[em-harlsnow]

I wanna talk for a second about Fiona and JimmySteve, and I want to compare them to Gallavich

They have a lot of similarities:

Fiona loved him more than she'll ever love anyone, and I think Jimmy's the same. Just like Ian and Mickey.

Obviously, the whole on and off thing, since both couples had one of them leave and come back again and again.

I think with both Ian and Fiona, their partners outside of jimmy or Mickey are always characters which relate to Jimmy or Mickey. That's weirdly phrased, but I think it's more like both Ian and Fiona would be like 'oh, Mickey used to say stuff like that' or 'Jimmy kissed better'. Like their other relationships are almost a consequence or comparison of their main love.

Both couples also have a hell of a lot of chemistry.

However, they're also so very, very different.

Ian and Mickey are an example of loving someone an insane amount and, against all odds, it works.

Fiona and JimmySteve are an example of loving someone an insane amount and it not working.

Fiona and JimmySteve are a tragic trope; they'll never work. I don't think Fiona goes back to him after she leaves. I hope she finds someone else who she loves, perhaps not as much, because loving someone that much is hard and a little destructive.

Ian and Mickey are not tragic. Their storyline is, but they can't be tragic because they will always work out. They can't stay away from each other. Magnets.

There is certain completed element of Fiona and JimmySteve's goodbye, which every single Gallavich goodbye lacked. Even Mexico, when logically they both knew there was no chance of getting back together (because Mick would eventually come out of prison, ruling the season 1,2 and 6 goodbyes out), lacks a completedness. There's no goodbye, just an 'I love you - fuck you' which almost says 'I'll see you soon.'

Fiona and JimmySteve say goodbye. He tells her he loves her, much like Ian did, but she still needs something else. They could have been together, nothing was keeping them apart that time. (Aside from his compulsive lying - but this is about the couple and not about Jimmy).

They were an example of people falling in love with the wrong person. Love doesn't mean it works. They weren't right for each other, and I think that's one of the saddest things. Just because they loved each other, does not mean they can be together. Sometimes love does not conquer all.

Ian and Mickey are different. They fell in love with the right person, they almost moulded themselves to fit each other better. The reason they stayed apart so long was mostly due to circumstance - which you can argue for Fiona and JS too, but most of their problems could be solved with communication. Half the time I watched Fiona and JS, I felt like they were speaking two different languages. They couldn't understand each other, couldn't hear each other. It's really hard, I think, when you love someone so much, but you just don't fit right. They didn't love each other right.

("Why don't you go cry to your gay dad about it?" "Living in a goddamn slum" "I trust you - that means more to me" "I love you - I think I need something else now" "You need to let me go, you need to let me let you go")

I've always felt like Gallavich were on the same wavelength, they understood each other.

("You love me, and you're gay." "You're sick." "You're so much better than that." "I understand better than anyone: you're afraid of your father, you're afraid of your wife, you're afraid to be who you are." "I love you - What the hell does that even mean? - It means we take care of each other" "I love you, Mickey Milkovich, and if you'll let me, I'd like to spend the rest of my life - Jesus Christ save the fucking speech you pussy.") See, they get each other.

There's a lot to be said about their miscommunication as well, but they clearly get each other, in a way that Fiona and JimmySteve don't. It's like puzzle pieces. Ian and Mickey's pieces fit together, even if there were external forces keeping them apart. Sure, it may not be a perfect fit, but what is in humanity? There's so much beauty in imperfection. Fiona's and Jimmy Steve's pieces didn't fit. There were giant gaps where there shouldn't have been - such as JS's lying problem and Fiona's inability to feel empathy for anything he went through. Have you ever got so frustrated with a puzzle you just try and shove two pieces together so hard because you just want them together so bad? Maybe they'd look better in the puzzle if they went together. No matter how hard you try, they won't fit.

It just doesn't work, and that's so hard to accept. That sometimes, it just does not work.

I thought about this because of the sound trending on TikTok from Ocean's 11.

"Does he make you laugh?"

"He doesn't make me cry."

Anyway, rant over. Again, I'm not talking about the actions of JS or Fiona individually in this, those are whole different essays and I don't like JS enough to rewatch all his scenes and put one together for him. I think I've done one on Fiona though, but my feelings towards her are complicated. I'm talking about them as a couple.

Also, I'm not saying JimmySteve is anything like Mickey, or Fiona is like Ian.

Sorry for the deep stuff, I didn't think this would get so heavy.

[planetsstarsandmoons]

My associations with synastry aspects, part 1: venus and moon

So you know what I’m basing my synastry readings off of~

Venus conjunct moon: feels like you’ve found your soulmate, your special persion. You’ll just want to lie down and look at the ceiling together. Think ‘bad romance’ from lady gaga except it’s a good romance. A powerful love aspect I would say, that creates a lot of bang-on genuine romantic care.

Venus square moon: the two in this relationship have clashing ways of liking and loving each other. There is strife, as all harsher aspects give, somehow, their differences and fights are soft. The intimacy here always comes from feeling some deep emotions. Yin energy is like ice, and where there’s friction there is heat, which creates a lot of steam~ and between personal planets in a romantic relationship that ‘steam’ can only mean 1 thing. These people also learning from each other every day, and that is pretty nice I would say. The sulks and friction from the square make the good times often even more powerful and emotional.

Venus opp moon: this is Mary and Matthew Crawley from Downton Abbey. The moon’s feelings and emotional core are the opposite of what venus’ style, grace, taste and front-ey expressions are all about, and still they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Whereas the venus square moon gives the harshness a lot of romanticism and softness, the opposition gives the romanticism and softness somewhat of an edge. Over the course of time, these people will realise more and more just how down they are for each other and that’s very sweet to see.

Venus trine/sextile moon: ‘alright babe’ ‘yes babe’ but this flowing dynamic is in the best, most enviable way you can imagine. These people GET ON! Think a nerdy and refreshingly mature couple reading next to each other in bed, giving their troubled friend with romantic troubles some soothing advice, then kissing each other goodnight. It’s nice and easy and frankly an exciting rest or safe zone if you have a lot of harsher aspects in your synastry. You’ll always be kind of safe with this. You won’t even have to think about being nice and boy/girlfriendy towards each other. It’s almost on automatic pilot for you. Again, this can ease out a lot of harsher aspects and is also great for a platonic connection. It’s that lovey dovey tiktok couple whose names I forgot.

[annerbhp]

I was thinking about how in the past I have tried to describe my writing process as a sort of weaving or braiding as I try to keep various plot threads woven in and not dropping any of them. But it never felt quite right because there is still a linear quality to both of those activities, and I so far from a linear writer.

But the other day I was doing a jigsaw puzzle and I was like, no, no, THIS is the metaphor for my writing process. Like, a giant jumble of stuff (vague ideas, snippets of dialogue, character beats, plot), all in a giant mess (possibly all from multiple projects all in one box). And I don't know how other people do jigsaw puzzles, but the first thing I do is find the bright, obvious, easily distinguishable areas with maybe weird texture or a vivid color and go through and collect the pieces that might be part of it in various piles. And then I try to put each pile together into something recognizable and guess where it might fit in the larger frame. Like maybe the frame and then four or five very distinct areas. Until you've got something like this:

Like maybe some areas are big, and some are just two pieces together. And sometimes after a while you realize you have a part that's in the wrong place entirely, or upside down! Or, shit, that's from a different puzzle! (okay, that rarely happens. I am careful with my jigsaw pieces, but I am not with my writing.)

And slowly you add more pieces to connect them all, one at a time. Slowly, slowly. A few pieces a day. Here and there. Maybe adding one more piece to one clump and then pieces to a different clump until they connect. Maybe I leave it languishing on the dining room table for a while to collect dust and get trampled by cats. Maybe I go start a different one. (Nope, I don't do that with puzzles. I don't have the space.)

But the puzzle slowly starts to take shape! The pieces go in faster! Only then... At some point I am left with tons of little spaces and a pile of pieces that are all the same uniform color, but are all funky, different little shapes. And it feels like a drag to figure those out (these are the transitions and small filler bits I have just put off over and over again). Sometimes this is where I literally go back and sort all the puzzle pieces by shape and then try them all one by one until they find a place to go. Tedious. Not the most exciting. Easy to get wrong. But we're So Near The End.

And, sure, it doesn't really happen much when I'm doing a puzzle, but if I stretch the metaphor, in writing I can also find pieces that just don't fit and have to go back to the box.

But what TOTALLY tracks in this metaphor is the euphoric feeling of putting the last goddamn piece into place. And you sit there for a moment being like, "oh my god, it's actually done. It's actually freaking DONE!" And you don't know if you need to get up and run around in a circle or just stare in disbelief. Possibly take a nap.

But it is definitely, finally ready to send off to beta. Ah. So lovely. (Not that I have experienced this in a long while. YEARS.)

Anyway. That is a more apt metaphor for my writing process, for those of you who have asked over the years.

It's probably too early for 2024 resolutions or wishes. But I hope to feel this even ONCE in 2024. Yeah, that would be great.

[depravity-n-savagery]

「 Until The Sun Comes Up 」

❧ Pairing: Robin Buckley x (fem)Reader

❧ Summary: You and Robin have been friends with benefits for a while, but clearly Robin wants more. You just can't get over failing what's always been expected of you.

❧ CW: smut, unrequited love (kinda), dom!Robin, angst, struggling with sexuality, edging, orgasm denial, manipulation

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

❧ Word Count: 2.6k

❧ A/N: My goodness, I didn't plan on it being this sad when I started it, but I just followed where the feels led me. 😮‍💨 So here we are, lolz.

The dream life you were raised to yearn and work toward, was absolute bullshit. The older you got, the more you realized that. Especially with the things you were learning about yourself. Even if you did want that treasured lifestyle. A white picket fence, a husband, three kids and a dog. It didn't seem possible for someone like you. You were… different. Your family would say you were broken, if they knew what you knew. Who you chose to be with. At least that's what they raised you to believe.

"There's no way these boobs are real." Robin chuckled, staring down at a swimsuit magazine in her hands. She sat next to you on your bed, while you laid back looking up at the ceiling. Her leg bouncing like it often did. She was rarely completely still. "What do you think?" The magazine was thrust in your direction, open to a page that showed a petite woman in a very revealing bikini. Her tits definitely stood out, and you couldn't stop your eyes from lingering on them. Noticing where you could see her nipples poking out underneath the skimpy bikini top. You swallowed and forced yourself to turn away. "Yeah. They don't look like they fit on her body. But I mean, how can you tell? People could say the same about anyone's boobs."

"But I've seen your boobs." There it goes. That tone of voice that made your head go fuzzy. Robin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, setting the magazine aside. "Felt them. Kissed them. Had them in my-"

"Oh my god, Robin!" You tossed a pillow at her, laughing as she fell backwards onto the carpeted floor. "You're such a perv."

It was a shared secret between the two of you (and Steve, since he convinced Robin to make a move in the first place). This attraction to women you had been hiding for so long. At first you and Robin were only friends, until one day after shopping at the mall. You modeled the lingerie you bought, seeing which would impress this guy you were planning on hooking up with. Turns out it impressed her more than anyone else. Since then, it's been an undefined friends with benefits kind of deal.

Robin scrambled back up onto the bed, moving the blanket out of place. This lovable girl was a tornado, and it made you smile watching her literally stumble through life. She was precious. "Maybe I need to refresh my memory. For science."

"Oh?" Since the two of you were planning on spending the night together at your place, you were already in your night clothes. An oversized Wham! Tour shirt that barely covered your pink panties. Robin wore one of your burgundy button-ups, completely unbuttoned to expose her cream-colored bra and loose fitting shorts. You played with the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to show the bottom curve of your breasts. Not fully exposing them. "Come inspect them yourself."

There was no hesitation in Robin's movements, eagerly crawling across the bed to fall right on top of you. Her weight pushing you both back to lay on the crumpled blanket. Shirt still bunched up around your midsection. She was a girl possessed when it came to you. Once the green light was given, the puzzle pieces all fit into place. This was natural for her. Giggling against your collarbone at the awkward tangled heap you fell into, then pressing those lips to your skin. Hot and slow, kissing a trail up to your lips.

It drew a soft gasp out of you. Something about her touch felt different from when you'd hook up with guys. She took her time. Savored you, and seemed to know exactly where you wanted her. Her teeth grazed your earlobe, giving it a little tug before she whispered. "I've been waiting for this all day." You believed it. The lingering stares in the halls, the subtle game of footsies under the table at lunch. People didn't really question the way you two were so physically close. It was common for most girls. It had to be, right? Don't all girls want to make out with their best friends?

The thought actually made you chuckle. "I wonder if my future husband will be this hot for me. If he's not, I don't want him." You carried on laughing at your little joke, but Robin wasn't so pleased. She pulled back, pushing up on her hands so she was hovering over you.

"Future husband?"

"Of course. Well, waaayy down the line. I don't plan on getting married any time soon."

She threw herself over, landing on her back beside you with a huff. The mood obviously soured. What the hell? Why did she get like this sometimes? One wrong comment and she would wilt. No explanation or anything. At this point you'd rather have her curse you out. It would be something. You'd at least know how she felt.

"What is this to you, Y/n?"

The air was vacuumed out of your lungs. Chest tight - There's no way this was a panic attack. It was just a question. A simple string of words that sent your heart rate through the roof. It's something you tried not to really think about. You two were just going with the flow, right? "What do you mean?" You choked out.

"You know what I mean. What is this? Are you just experimenting or something? Like, does this mean anything to you?" Robin's eyes refused to meet yours, expression going cold as she stared at the wall. Distant. "Do I…mean anything to you?"

"Woah, Robin. Hold on. Look at me." You gently took hold of her chin, turning her head until she started right at you. "Of course you mean something to me. You mean A LOT to me. You're my best friend!"

She scoffed, pulling away from your grasp. "Wow. Best friends. Of course." She folded into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. This was the last thing you wanted. Seeing her break like this. What did she expect from you? This was already so far out of the lines for you. So far away from the beaten path. Couldn't she just enjoy things for what they were?

"What do you expect? To be girlfriends? Out there?" You waved your hand toward the window. "You gonna introduce me to your parents, and tell em' what we've been doing during all those harmless sleepovers? Watch the horror and disappointment fill their eyes!? I can't just- it's a lot, Robs!"

It's not like you never thought about it. A part of you might have even longed for it. Instead of stolen moments. When you can look at her sleeping in your arms, spent and clinging to you. Burying her face in your chest just to smell you while she dreamed. The rest of the world didn't exist, and she was yours. Yours until the sun comes up.

"I didn't ask you to go public. I know the risks. I asked… if you felt anything for me. That's all, Y/n. I don't just want to be friends."

The blanket shifted more and more off the bed, as you lifted up onto your hands and knees. You pressed your forehead to Robin's, closing your eyes. "We have to be. This is what it has to be."

"Bullshit." Robin said, her voice low and almost raspy like when she woke up in the morning. She lifted her head up, nudging her face against yours until she found your lips. Kissing you like it meant the world to her. Breathing life back into you. You couldn't help but kiss back. She always peeled away your defenses. Moaning against your lips as she guided you to lay on your back. Her lips never leave yours. It was a lifeline. The anchor keeping you from distancing yourself any farther from her. You drank it all up, parting your lips so she could ease her tongue into your mouth. Fuck, you couldn't stop. Couldn't help the way your legs wrapped around her waist just so you could feel more of her weight on you.

She finally pulled away from the kiss, causing you to whine and pout. "Best friends don't moan like a little slut when you shove your tongue in their mouth." Her hips, slotted between your legs, rolled into your core. Giving just the slightest friction against the crotch of your panties. There's no way she didn't feel how wet you were. For all your bullshit doubts, you were nothing less than starved for her touch.

Robin's fingers danced along your legs, up and down your thighs, avoiding where you wanted her to touch. She was entranced by the way your body reacted to her. Squirming and needy beneath her. It was intoxicating. Unbelievable, if she wasn't currently seeing it with her own eyes. Her fingers dipped under the moist material of your panties, pulling the crotch aside. Exposing you to the open air. "I never get tired of that. Seeing just how wet you get. It's fucking magical." Her eyes were wide with genuine excitement.

"Uggghh, you're such a tease." You groaned, desperately trying to keep yourself from begging for more. "I could get off faster doing it myself." To prove your point, you lowered your hand down to your clit. Circling the sensitive nub with your index finger.

That lasted all of five seconds.

Your soaked panties were suddenly being yanked down your legs. Ripped off your ankles and thrown into god knows where. They were probably torn, considering how forcefully they were removed. You tried to take advantage of Robin's momentary distraction, rubbing your clit fiercely before she could realize it. Trying to beat her to the punch. When she realized what you were doing, she scowled at you. Holding your thighs apart. "Y/n. Move that hand, before I bite it."

She wouldn't- "Fuck!!" You sucked in air between your teeth, yanking your hand back after feeling the pinch of her teeth on your finger. She's a mad woman! Her usual softness was abandoned. That head of wild brown hair moving and bobbing as she licked a repetitive strip from your clit to your drooling entrance. Already clenching around nothing as you moaned out her name. All you could see of her face was those eyes, looking up at you with a squint. Staring daggers straight into you.

"Is this what you need?" Robin spat out before latching on to that bundle of nerves. She sucked hard, wiggling her tongue over the throbbing flesh as she did. "Is this what you need to take me seriously?"

Two different thoughts clashed in your head, fighting for dominance over the flood of pleasure. "N-No- I just-" Just what? Never really planned on doing so? Commitment was the farthest thing from your mind whenever she was touching you. You were too busy on cloud nine. Tasting colors, and seeing sounds.

You rolled your hips into her face, silently begging for more. Burying her further into your cunt, with a quivering gasp. The feeling of two fingers prodding and teasing your hole had you ready to sob. The build up was peeling you apart.

"Did you know…? Do you know how much I like you, Y/n?" Her voice was so seducing, you hardly recognized her. Your hyperactive, clumsy best friend - now licking slow circles around your clit. Slower and slower. Lower and lower, just to dip her tongue inside of you. Collecting some of your overflow.

It was always obvious that she was into you. Even if you tried to deny it to yourself, you knew. It intrigued you when you picked up on it. Boosted your ego a bit too. The way she'd sneak glances at you when you changed clothes around her. Blushing whenever you'd enter her personal space. You just had to have more. "I do. Robs, I care about you too."

"Don't give me that. You know it's not the same way." Those fingers pushed through your aching walls, relieving some of that pressure. She shook you up, and god were you ready to burst. But she didn't fuck into you like you wanted. Each stroke was just as controlled. Taunting you. "I don't want your bullshit. I don't want your lies. I just want you to cum. Can you handle that?"

Your head shook vigorously, tears gathering in your eyes. "I c-can't. Not like this. Y-you're going too slow."

"Sounds like a you problem."

Your nails dug into the sheets, afraid that she would stop altogether if you tried to pull her head in closer. Your abdomen tightened and burned, like you were working out. Using all your mental strength, trying to will yourself into an orgasm. It just wasn't working. "Robin! M'sorry, I'll do better. P-please! I'll do whatever you want!" You could barely see her through the watery shield of your tears. Rising and rising, like the height of your pleasure. Still not spilling over.

Her fingers twisted inside you, grazing the spongy texture of your g-spot. Your back arched in response. "Anything?" She asked. Brushing against the spot so softly she was barely there. You were hanging by a thread. So sooo fucking close.

Then she pulled away completely.

The ice in her stare doused the fire within you. Everything turned to a sick twisting in your guts. "Go ahead. Do it yourself. I can't do this anymore." The words barely registered in your head, until you saw her start to gather her things. Stuffing her magazines and clothes into the duffle bag she brought with her. Dropping some items a few times, due to her shaking hands. "I'm done."

"Wait! Robin, don't go." Your foot caught in the semi-folded blanket, kicking your way off the bed. Trying to get to your feet as fast as possible. By the time you were standing, still unsteady, she was wrapping her hand around the door knob. Only stopping because you grabbed on to her wrist.

"Why not? I don't know if this is… you being bored. Having something to do when there's nothing to do. Or a way for you to rebel. Test the waters. I don't care! I am just done with being jerked around and toyed with! You pull me around on a string like- like I'm some kind of dog on a leash. Am I that pathetic to you?!"

Go ahead. Do what you always do. Lie. To her and yourself. The words were on the tip of your tongue. Everything she's ever wanted to hear. About how you just needed to warm up to the idea. How you'll tell your friends about her some day. Maybe you could even kiss her, right here and now. Knowing how she melts whenever you give her just a crumb of affection. It should be second nature by now. Or maybe…just maybe…the game was up.

So you said nothing. Her wrist, now released from your grasp, yanked back like your touch had burned her. No goodbyes. Just the deafening sound of your bedroom door slamming behind her. Steve's house wasn't too far from yours. She was probably on her way there. To break down and be comforted by someone who actually cared. Unconditionally.

The weight of her absence brought you to your knees. Soaking the carpet with your tears. Finally, they could flow freely. Unable to be used as a token for her forgiveness. Maybe in some way, you did love her. You wanted her to have better. Better than what you gave her.

Sunlight began to peek out from behind the houses and trees. Not yet reaching through your window. Just an empty bed and a broken heart. Waiting for the daylight to make it feel real.

You could ignore it. You could pretend she was still here. Sleeping in your arms. Soft, sweet, and yours. Just until the sun comes up…

❧ A/N: Pheeww boy, this was heavy to write. I've found myself in a couple situations like this (from Robin's perspective), so it was interesting writing from the other point of view. No worries though, the next time I write a Robin fic, I'll make sure she gets some REAL love. ♡ As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Ao3, Masterlist, more links coming soon...

[wheels-of-despair]

Enough | A Make Up Story | Tom Grant x You | Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: The Heavier the Dread Words: 2k

The closer you get to the caravan park, the heavier the dread grows. Although he doesn't say anything, you know Tom's feeling it too. The girls who broke your hearts are still there. Together. And you can't avoid them forever.

Tom parks the truck at the office, and you haul your bag out once again. He opens the office door quietly, slips in to drop off the keys, and returns seconds later looking triumphant.

You start toward the van you stayed in last night, but Tom steers you in a different direction by the strap of your bag.

"Might as well go back to the one I actually live in."

You traipse through the park, watching carefully for any sign of them. You knew it was inevitable, but it didn't have to happen now.

Miraculously, you make it to your destination undetected. Tom fights with the door handle for a moment but eventually jerks it open. He stands back and gestures for you to enter through the beaded curtains. Nice touch.

It's smaller than the one you stayed in last night, and obviously an older model. Nothing like Jade's. But still, it's nice. Much nicer than any flea-ridden motel you would've paid too much for in town.

"What the fuck?!"

You whirl around from your place in the living room to see Tom standing in the bedroom doorway. You drop your bag and go to him, seeing an unmade bed… and a hole where a window should be, just past his shoulder. He steps around the bed to peer out the hole. "What the fuck!"

You lean against the doorframe and observe, wondering how hard he's going to freak out. He turns around and points to the hole, as if you hadn't noticed. "She broke my fuckin' window!"

"I see that." You're trying your very best not to be sarcastic, but you have no idea what he wants from you.

He puts his red face in his hands and groans loudly. Not a scream. A loud groan.

"Hey. Maintenence Man. How do we fix it?"

"What?" he mumbles from behind his hands.

"This is literally your area of expertise," you remind him. "How do we fix it?"

He puts his hands down and looks at the window like it's a puzzle that needs to be solved.

"I can put up plywood 'til I get a piece of glass that fits."

"See? Easy."

He looks at you like he hasn't slept in days.

"Do you have a spare set of sheets?" you ask.

"Closet."

"You go grab plywood, I'll wrestle the mattress outside and beat the glass out of it, then we'll board up the window. Teamwork… what's your last name?"

"What?"

"I don't know your last name."

"Grant."

"Teamwork, Grant!" you say with obviously fake enthusiasm.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he stares curiously at you for a moment. "Alright." He steps past you and out the door, beaded curtains clacking in his wake.

Wrestling that mattress outside was much easier said than done, but you did it. You were red-faced and sweaty when Tom returned with his sheet of plywood.

"You wanna hold this in place while I screw it in?" he asked while strapping on his tool belt like a man on a mission.

An hour later, the hole where the window used to be was covered, the mattress was glass-free and back where it belonged, and Tom had helped you put clean sheets on it.

"Want a drink?" he asks, after you've both taken a second to admire your work.

"Sure."

You follow him the few steps to the kitchen, where he fills two cups with water.

"Uh… sorry I don't have anything harder."

"It's probably for the best. Wouldn't anyone to get hammered and go stumbling around in the middle of the road or anything," you wink. Tom blushes.

"Are you going to get in trouble for not working? I didn't mean to keep you busy with my bullshit all day."

He shakes his head. "We always get the day off after the end-of-season bonfire. Half the people probably passed out on the beach last night, they'd have been useless today anyhow."

"That's cool." He nods in agreement.

"I've just realized we skipped lunch. Ready for dinner?"

"Sure," you shrug.

Tom gets up, opens a cabinet, and stares into it thoughtfully. Curiosity getting the better of you, you come to stand beside him.

"Wow, I can see why you're having trouble choosing."

There are three tins of pasta sauce and three packs of spaghetti.

"There's also cereal," he states.

"And the bag of stuff we left in the other van."

"Right."

"Tell me how to get there, and I'll go get it," you offer.

"I can get it quicker than I can explain it, hold tight."

Quick as a flash, he's out the door. Apparently man cannot exist on carbs alone, you think as you begin washing the dishes that had been left in the sink. There wasn't much to tidy up in the tiny kitchen, but you did it anyway, desperate for something to keep you busy.

"You didn't have to do that," were his first words upon re-entering.

"I did it anyway," you respond, taking the grocery bag from him and placing it on the counter. You begin unpacking it and making his cabinet look a little less sad. "What are you in the mood for?" you ask.

"You don't have to do that, either."

"I already know you're going to fight me if I try paying you for letting me stay here, so you've gotta let me help out in some way."

"You already bought the food, I'm not gonna make you cook it for me as well." He sits on the sofa and rubs his eyes, clearly more ready for a nap than a fight.

"I like to cook. So again: What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything," he yawns.

"Anything?"

"I'm not picky."

"Any allergies?"

"Nope."

"Alright." You stare into the cabinet again, wondering what you could combine to make something more interesting than spaghetti or cereal. When you look back to ask Tom for a food opinion, you see that he's already nodded off on the couch. Poor guy. You work as silently as you can.

Since Tom obviously liked spaghetti, you settled on pasta. You quickly fell into the familiar routine of making a cheesy sauce that went with just about everything. Any shape of pasta. Any vegetables you had on hand. Hell, you'd even seen Jade steal spoonfuls of it from the stove and eat it like soup.

She used to claim that she'd eat anything if it was coated in that sauce. You once joked that you could stir in a handful of Legos and she wouldn't complain. "Try it and we'll find out!" she'd laughed, going back for thirds. You briefly wonder if Tom's girl can cook, and if Jade is eating real food or just a bunch of ready-to-eat snacks, before forcing all your attention onto the vegetables you're chopping.

When dinner was ready and the table was set, you had to wake him. You weren't sure how to do it; waking up strange people is always an awkward affair. You're suddenly reminded of all the strange men you found on your couch in the late afternoon, looking to you for answers after your flatmate had already gone on to another party. It somehow became your job to get the random hookups gone before she brought home the next one.

"Tom?" you ask from a few steps away. He didn't hear you. "Tom?" you repeat, a little louder. He jolts awake, looks confused for a moment, then locks eyes with you.

"Dinner's ready." He gives you a sleepy smile from his place on the sofa and reaches down to untie his boots with a groan. You sit at the table, and he slides into the seat across from you.

He doesn't even ask what it is, or what's in it, before he takes a bite.

"Oh holy hell, what is this?"

You look up in a panic. Did he hate it? Did you do something wrong because you weren't focused?

He takes another bite. "This is fucking incredible."

You laugh in relief, and explain to him what it is. He's done with his first plate by the time you're halfway through yours. By his second, he'd slowed down enough to actually carry on a conversation.

You spent the rest of dinner talking about food. Tom's a sucker for anything home-made, because the familiar smells and tastes are what he misses the most about home. He tried to experiment when he first set out on his own, but most attempts were disastrous. Now he settles for easy meals for himself, and a home-made dinner with his neighbor once a week.

You'd tried to do dishes again, and a struggle ensued. You laughed and tried to shove each other away from the sink. Tom won. Rather, you decided to let him win after he knocked you out of the way with his hip.

The consolation prize was the first shower.

The second you were alone again, your mind returned to Jade. You didn't think it could get much smaller than her bathroom, but Tom's shattered that illusion. Her shower wasn't ideal, but could fit two determined people. The one rinsing off the most awful two days of your life… well, it's a good thing you didn't have to worry about fitting someone else in here with you.

You showered as quickly as you could, trying to get away from the walls that were closing in on you. (And save your gracious host some hot water.) You banged your elbow three times, trying to get dressed in that small, steamy space. Maybe next time you'd just hose yourself off outside. If there were still any bored tourist dads here, you could probably charge them to watch and have enough to reclaim your car and leave this place in your rearview forever.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you sat on the sofa to wait for Tom. The living room area seemed much larger now, compared to that nightmare of a shower. If you were at Jade's, the pair of you would be three or four drinks deep at this point. Dancing like idiots. Making out on the couch. Not worrying about anything at all.

Tom's body dropped on the other side of the L-shaped sofa. He'd lazily towel-dried his hair and changed into sweats and a t-shirt.

"Take the bed, I'm good here." He stretched out on his back, laced his fingers behind his head and crossed his ankles.

"I'm not taking your bed."

"Yes, you are."

"Are we gonna argue about everything?" you say with annoyance, despite enjoying this quite a bit.

"We don't have to argue. You can just do it."

You chuckle, then curl up on the short side of the sofa, which doubles as a seat at the table.

"Go to bed," he orders.

"I just did."

"You're gonna wake up with a fucked-up back if you sleep like that."

"Don't care."

"Why won't you take the bed?" he asks with a huff.

"Why won't YOU?"

"You're my guest."

"Your guest is not sleeping in the bed where she slept." You didn't mean for it come out so harsh, but it did.

"…neither am I," he says quietly. He gets up to turn the light off and drop a blanket on you, then returns to his place on the long side of the sofa.

"Good night, Guy I Almost Hit With My Car."

"Good night, Girl Who Almost Ran Me Over."

[rosekasa]

Hello! I am a beginner artist and I love ur art!! Super pretty and the colors are very tasty. Do you have some tips? I'd love to see your art process!

HELLO ANON!! first of all i am very honoured that u would ask me this because 90% of the time i feel like i have no idea what i am doing and like im still a beginner artist myself DSDSJDF. i would love to share some stuff i learnt and some stuff about my process (regardless of how messy it is sdfhsj)

(final piece)

here's an old example of my process i found! while the steps sometimes look different for other pieces, i feel like this is a good demonstration of how the basic structure looks.

1. the sketch - this is where i'm mainly figuring out how i want the piece to look. i was redrawing a screenshot for this piece so it looks a LOT neater than what a lot of my other sketches look like, for example, here's the process of me figuring out my recent drawing of haise:

(final piece)

in the first two steps, i was mainly working with showing myself what the piece was going to be. the last one was where i used references/technical knowledge to try and show whoever will be looking at it what the piece was

2. cleaning up the sketch + base colours. these two usually occur simultaneously because i will get bored cleaning up the sketch midway through and want to start adding colour LMAO. on a more practical note, sometimes putting down the base colours and having a better idea of what the finished product will look like might make it easier to refine things.

a note: cleaning up for me doesn't mean doing lineart. it mostly means erasing any overly messy lines on the sketch and redrawing small parts to make it look tidier where needed. i often leave it 'messy' at this stage, too. like here:

(final piece)

3. light/shadow. this is my FAVOURITE part because it's where the piece starts pulling together. the method i used in the current piece was putting a multiply layer over the colours folder and filling in where light would be obstructed. after that, i used a luminosity layer to put in some bright sunlight. marc brunet has a great way of explaining it by advising to pretend that the light is the camera and you're behind the lens. this is such a good way to block in average light/shadow values! sometimes this looks a bit crazy because everything is still so messy but that is why we have...

4. rendering. this is where i fit all the remaining pieces of the puzzle together. i'll refine the colours a bit more -- e.g. colouring in the eyes, -- and fiddle a bit with the shadows to add some more variation to the hues/value. this is where i think a lot about light and shadow theory and try and make it look more realistic. marco bucci saved my LIFE with his videos about ambient occlusion and ambient light (part 1 / part 2) -- essentially, what i keep in mind the most is that if a plane in shadow is facing the sky (or is open to any other form of light that isn't the direct light source) it will contain ambient light. it is SUCH a game changer when you add it to your pieces, trust me, even if youre lazy about it. if needed i'll pull up some references to make everything look good!

5. rendering... part 2? honestly this step kind of blends with the last one as i tend to do it simultaneously. i basically clean up all the messy lines from before by painting over them! with the majority of the colours i need put down, i can just eyedrop them and paint over anything that's needed. this also comes in with the light/shadow, where, if i need a more subtle hue for either/or, i will eyedrop it and brush it in.

some further notes:

i very rarely use references during the first stages of my sketch. i think it tends to look quite stiff and unnatural if i rely too hard on the. and i personally prefer the creative room when the idea is still being conceived. references come in when i can look at what i have down on the canvas and have a fairly decent idea of what i want, including pose, composition, etc. it's essentially a first draft to guide me to where i want to go with the piece. it's when i'm done with this that i bring out references, and even then, they don't necessarily have to be the exact pose -- i'll usually get a couple of pics which show what i need to double check and keep them up as a guide. by the end of the 'sketch', i usually have a basic construction of what i need to continue, even if it's messy.

i use very soft brushes when putting down colour because it allows for more hue variation. like i said, i enjoy eyedropping and brushing in colours afterwards, so this really helps!

layer modes are ur friend! i try not to rely on them too hard during rendering because i like the freedom of painting over but they're very useful when you're blocking in your initial colours

sometimes, when i feel like i want to try something new with my art, i'll keep pieces that inspire me up in front of me. i have two of sui ishida's art books and sometimes i'll just flick to a page that oils the Art Gears in my brain and keep it open while i draw. i don't necessarily reference it, but i like having it there so i can glance over every once in a while. i don't usually make a conscious choice where i'm like "ok i want to render skin the way he does" but it's more like. my brain knows what it likes in his art and it'll try and push that part of my art in a similar direction.

honestly the best advice i have is that art is very much based on vibes. everytime i've tried to think too much about it, to do things 'correctly', to rigidly stick to art theory, my art has not come out nicely. i think the technical parts of art are important to know and understand but i also think it's important to let your knowledge come through naturally when it is needed instead of pressuring yourself to do things 'right'. tbh you probably already know that but it's something i forget a lot so maybe it serves as a helpful reminder?? sedsfhsl

ANYWAY SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG! i hope i covered what you needed and if you need anything else/want me to expand on anything feel free to drop me another ask ! <3

make sure to look after yourself and trust yourself and ENJOY!!! art is about having fun!

[lisa972kdlz]

(It's translated from French, I hope there aren't too many syntax errors ^^" In any case, enjoy your reading !)

Dreamtale Theories:

Here's a list of a few theories about the Dreamtale Lore, this story leaving some very interesting gaps to try and fill. Philosophical and scientific thoughts helpt me to concretise these ideas, but although I've been inspired by them, it's not with these points of view I'm going to develop, but rather a purely artistic point of view. Little by little, philosophy and science have been lost in my ramblings, giving way to imaginations that seemed to fit together. Artists imagine. They cheat, they lie, they don't care much for concrete realities. In the end, the only science I get into position on is the elements of the Dreamtale canon, at least those I've managed to pick out. Perhaps I've missed some information that would disprove these hypotheses, in which case it would be courteous of you to let me know.

On a more chill note, say I'm just a teenager with a overflowing mind who loves to come up with crazy theories with whatever I can get my hands on, and I write this mainly for fun ^^

In fact, I don't think for a second I'm right, so I don't know if I can call those theories... Maybe speculation ideas about Dreamtale I wanted to share? Almost headcanons, but still based on concrete elements of the canon.

So let's go, first theory!

☁︎ Canon/Fanon:

For starters, why do I insist so much on canonicity? Because when it comes to Dreamtale, the boundary between Fanon and Canon is not always well understood, given that there are a lot of preconceived ideas on the subject.

The fact is, I see Dreamtale's Fanon and Canon as two completely separate worlds. And yet, understand that I hate adhering to variants of this and that for anything and everything. The idea of viscerally separating the Canon and Fanon sides of an oeuvre makes no sense to me, especially in an open world where each universe is a piece of a larger puzzle, where the world we're presented with is meant to be a huge playground.

And at this stage, if we do that with this universe, we could do the same for all the existing stories, no? Nevertheless, for THIS world and this world in particular, I think it's important.

For there is a crucial difference between C!Dreamtale and F!Dreamtale, a difference that completely alters the interpretation of the oeuvre. Fanon doesn't just make a few interpretative changes... He changes the very nature of a character: Corrupted Nightmare. And that, well... It's a bit complicated not to separate the two, especially when the Fanon version is so popular... Canon, he is dead and his body belongs to another character who has his own personality and background. Fanon, he's alive. Trapped, imprisoned, manipulated, split into two personalities (Night and Mare) or fundamentally evil, depending on the case, but alive.

Night is experiencing a bit of Asriel syndrome: it was because Undertale fans couldn't accept his death that the first AU's were created. And for Dreamtale, there was such misunderstanding about this (Because reading the Prologue, everyone agreed that Corrupted Nightmare was...well... Nightmare), that the majority think this is official. (It has to be said, it wasn't evident let me reassure you...)

To this we can add the fact that most of the time, in very fanon fanfics and fancomics, the other two trees don't exist or are never mentioned, that Corrupted (I refuse to call him "Nightmare" simply because he isn't Nightmare) isn't a real person or doesn't exist at all, that Dreamtale is an AU of Undertale, so made up of codes like the other AU's, but all that still depends on people's interpretation and knowledge of the real Dreamtale.

To put it more bluntly, and if the boundary's still unclear: F!Dreamtale is a part of the Undertale Multiverse, while C!Dreamtale is its own universe.

Since I like both aspects equally, and in order to get everyone on the same page, I've come up with a mini theory:

Dreamtale Fanon, being the Dreamtale developed by fans based on the belief that Corrupted Nightmare is more or less Night, has strayed so far from its original story (it focuses more on the "broken brothers" relationship of the twins, their mutual development and their relationships with the characters of the Undertale fandom), that over time, by putting down roots in the world of Undertale and through the influence of the creators, Dreamtale would have "split." This double would then have merged with the codes of the Undertale Multiverse, because Dreamtale was so well integrated into it that this version of it ended up becoming imprinted on the very core and codes. That's why, in F!Dreamtale, we don't always mention the other trees, since they never joined the Undertale Multiverse. Even we NEVER mention them in Dreamtale's AU's like Swapdream or the alternative Multiverses like Dreamswap, Swapverse, etc. That's why Dream and Nightmare exist in the alternative Multiverses,AU's and not the rest (Vampireverse, Empireverse, Minuscultale and so on).

The result is two Dreamtales:

The Canon Dreamtale, which belongs to Joku,

The Fanon Dreamtale, which belongs to the Fandom Joku too.

Well yeah, it's still Dreamtale, so it still belongs to Joku, no matter what haters want ◖눈ᴥ눈◗

Duh.

Also, this definitely doesn't prevent fanfics from being based on C!Dreamtale, it's even advisable to give it the prominence it deserves. Hence the idea of completely separating these versions, because fans can make fanfics about the Canon, and although it's fanon, it won't be similar to the F!Dreamtale version at all.

Two worlds taking different thematic paths created on the uncertainty of Night's death (like a "Schrodinger's Night" ͡° ͜ · ͡°).

Next theory!

☁︎ Tree of Feelings/Creators link:

This is a question I picked up when wondering about Dream and Corrupted's various attacks. Where Dream needs a body to hold him together, Corrupted has so many black apples that he can physically hold himself together without a body, and more or less correctly. Do positive and negative energies function differently? Is it because Corrupted has more apples that he holds on better? What is positive and negative energy in Dreamtale's Lore?

At the beginning, I'd started from the principle that Energy with a big E, being what makes up absolutely all existing things, humans and monsters alike, could be used by Dream and Corrupted to be converted into either magical energy or physical energy. As Dream only holds one apple and enjoys a body, he'd mindlessly convert his energy into magical energy, which is why he has a soul similar to human's souls and why he's able to heal as green magic does, or cause damage as white magic does. For Corrupted's part, possessing no body of his own and having amassed enough power from his hundreds of apples, he would have to convert negative energy into physical energy. This would require a great deal of power and would therefore explain why, despite he's stronger than Dream, he's not 999X stronger than him. He already uses a lot of his energy simply... Holding on without melting.

I also theorised that if one of them were to acquire all the apples, not only would it have a stable body, but it would also be able to convert this energy as it saw fit. Corrupted could then generate magical attacks AND have a physical body.

The trouble is... Dreamtale isn't actually part of Undertale. So there's no Magic,Physics duality. And even assuming that Dream converts that energy into magical energy because he's unconsciously copying the way his adopted world works, he's still canonically attacking with positive energy and not MAGIC made from positive energy. Energy comes in many forms, but I don't think he can control it in such a pure form...

All this can still hold together, but what bothers me most is that pure Energy would have... A positive side and a negative side? And what's more, related to feelings? Why not, but I'm not really pleased with.

Dream and Corrupted's energy is material, palpable. Of course, we could stop at the fact that it's just a magical energy like we find everywhere in stories and not ask ourselves any more questions.

But I love wracking my brains to find answers to questions that no one wonder, so I'll keep going èwé–

What kind of energy would this refer to? Not energy in the scientific sense, because that's independent of any emotion, whereas in Dreamtale, positive energy, for example, is directly linked to positive feelings.

Because tree of FEELINGS–

The most plausible thing I found with is that positive and negative energies are linked to the spiritual energy: auras, meditation, etc. Proof of its existence is fairly hazy in the world of creators. But in the world of fiction...? What if? This energy of consciousness exists, whether it's real or not. And if it's not in the real world, as long as there are people who believe in it, then it's in the world of fiction. What if the fruits of the tree of feelings were the material manifestation of this spiritual energy produced by the consciousness of the creators? Just as a world is created by a creative mind, what about Dream and Nightmare were the guardians of the feelings of fiction as the direct embodiment of the emotions that creators instil in their work? This could be the reason why Dreamtale isn't made up of codes, because it's the direct embodiment of a philosophy and not just another fictional universe among many.

I can't decide whether it's too obvious or too far-fetched ^^". It was the concept in Underverse that made me think of it... There are references between what Nightmare implies in 0.6 and creators tearing up their own universes because they're filled with negative emotions. Underverse isn't canon, but there's nothing to stop this idea of the creator,feeling link being applied to Dreamtale.

Especially as it allows us to imagine something even bigger that could work in relation to the three trees...

But before that, a little theory about Corrupted, because the more we learn about him, the more this character becomes... Mysterious.

☁︎ Something is rotten in the state of Dreamtale :

Ever since I knew that the three trees were part not of the Undertale Multiverse but of all the other Multiverses, I've been wondering why it should be Corrupted who embodies absolute Evil and not someone else. After all, we know plenty of evil lords, don't we? Isn't it a bit pretentious to claim him to be above everyone else?

But one detail, one nuance, makes all the difference.

By definition, Corrupted does not embody Evil, but negative feelings. He embodies them because he has become their guardian, their bearer. What I'm trying to say is that black apples and evil are not linked... Black apples are not fundamentally evil. They have no conscience; they are neutral, they exist for balance and have a purpose of their own.

No, Corrupted is Evil for another reason. He's Evil because he's simply wicked. If the personification of negative feelings is evil, it's not because the negative emotions or the apples are mean, but because they are themselves corrupted, alienated by a consciousness that manipulates them irresponsibly. Why would the Entity feel hatred? Hatred and not despair or dread? Because he was already filled with hatred, or because he has a fighting personality that allows him to exploit this emotion for its dark projects. Is it a sign that Corrupted isn't worthy of being their carrier? After all, he's not their basic guardian; it was Nim, then Nightmare.

In this way, that doesn't prevent him from being THE allegory on the scale of all dimensions (or of a large area of dimensions, if you don't like the idea that Dreamtale is linked to all fictional universes) , because the role relating to negative FEELINGS in a neutral behaviour is rather original. He's an allegory of negative feelings that doesn't need to be, and that gives a false image of what negative feelings actually are; the pejorative and common image we have of them. In reality, negative feelings are neither good nor bad; they mean no harm to others. The one who wishes them harm is the Entity, Corrupted.

He's a simple villain who has got his hands on power that doesn't belong to him and is out of control with.

...

Maybe not a 'simple' villain either?

Because, another theory, I think that Corrupted is this fourth guardian that Joku mentioned. Firstly because I don't know who else he could be, but also because he knows about the other dimensions outside Undertale. How would he know if he didn't come from outside? Who else would this fourth guardian be, and why would Joku mention him? What's more, a number of elements fit together with this theory, notably his strategy of manipulating Nim (Nim is far from stupid, and he probably wouldn't have succeeded so easily if he didn't already know a little about her), in order to create Dream and Nightmare, dividing positivity and negativity to undermine the pillars of balance, all with the aim of finding a carnal envelope and taking possession of the Tree of Feelings...

Like a plan that has been fine-tuned for years and years... Add to this the anecdote that the tree guardians are not the original guardians and that Nim learnt something awful about them before leaving for Undertale, and you'd think there was a rotten menace already pulling the strings in the shadows, long before our dear twins were born.

So what is Corrupted looking for? What's his ultimate plan? To spread negativity across all dimensions and reign supreme as a Living God?

A fine programme... But what if we took his ambitions one step further?

☁︎ Feelings, Life, Magic:

Why three trees? Why THESE three trees? Why place them at the centre of the Multiverse? Why are feelings, life and magic at the heart of the worlds? What link can we make between them?

Feelings, well ok, that works... Life and death, logical... Magic? Why magic? Magic isn't a necessary element in the Multiverse, sometimes it doesn't even exist... Why a tree of Magic and not a tree of Souls, or a tree of Virtues and Sins, for example? Undertale is very closely linked to magic, but that's not the case for all worlds...

This is where we come back to the idea that apples are the materialised forms of the feelings creators apply to their work... Does this also work with Magic and Life? Yes, it does. Trees don't just take care of Feelings, Life and Death and Magic... They reflect what creators need to create.

Feelings, as we've said, are exactly what it takes to find inspiration, to feed the imagination like maintain fire. As long as the feelings remain, so do the passion and inspiration.

Life, on the other hand, is quite simply what enables a work to exist, to remain. Life is the nest in which the spirit bathes, gathering together the experiences of the creator, housing and preserving them. You could also say that the more lives there are to witness a work, the more real a work is.

Inspiration, yes... The environment, all right... But what is needed to create something out of nothing? To make the unreal real? The immaterial material?

Nothing more than a little magic ✨ !

Not the kind of magic you find in fiction with wizards and pseudo-scientific logic, no... Magic in the sense of believing in something irrational. To believe that these worlds exist, to have faith without needing proof. Accepting imagination. Not in a religious connotation, but in the sense: Magic = Consenting Suspension of Disbelief.

Feelings: The fuel.

Life: The oxygen.

Magic: The spark.

Fire triangle is complete.

What if these three trees were the equivalent of the Triforce of Creation itself? Feelings to stimulate, Life to sustain, Magic to materialize.

What would happen if, by some mischance, an ill-intentioned person managed to seize the power of these three trees? What would be the consequences? In the end, perhaps this mysterious Entity wants more than just the golden apple in Dream's care?

And if these three trees work very well together, what would the fourth guardian be doing?

Would he be the original guardian?

Or the exact opposite of Creation: Destruction and Nothingness?

(Voilà! I hope theses theories will have interested you ^^ And you, what do you think? Do you have theories about what's going to happen in the Dreamtale sequel?)

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog