#understanding-surface-mining-and-its-types

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

One shot IDW Megatron x Reader where they are a medic back in the mines before the war happens and some way some how they meet again at the Lost Light, pls?

♡ "KNOWING YOUR PAST" — Megatron [IDW]

im not sure if i have written the very well but i tried my best! i love IDW megs so i get nervous when writing him. i literally love him so much its not even funny-

scenario: a medic and ex-warlord thrown into a room because the captain sensed tension. cue awkward catching up.

setting: aboard the Lost Light, Rodimus locked you in a room with your ex-crush

Being on the Lost Light after Megatron opted to make the war shattering decision to become an Autobot, he's been retrospecting. Especially with the time he's had on the ship. While most of the crew weren't exactly friendly with him, he wouldn't really blame them. If someone started a war which killed off most of everyone you know and ruined your entire planet and Megatron had to share a ship with that individual? He wouldn't be pleased either.

But Megatron is learning. Empathy, introspection. It's a “journey to find himself”, just like how that Deadlock, now known as Drift put it.

Back then, he never really bothered to retrospect. His ego claimed he was far too high for such a thing but now, the weight of his actions have been crushing him with unmistakable and unspeakable regret. That much is true. And so, it's almost like he hesitates to think of the past. Not that he doesn't want to retrospect— It's a part of growth, he's come to recognize that.

But then… there's you.

And by Primus, does he want to avoid you…

He has been. Wonderfully. So far at least. And you seem to understand that, walking away from his general direction the moment he's in your periphery. You're pretty much avoiding him too. Quite simple to do given how he's dark and brooding, you definitely don't seem to be interested in mingling with those types. Or really, anyone at all. You are quiet here. Almost as forgettable as Rung to the others. But of course, not to Megatron.

You're like a relic from his past in every sense. You were there from the start as a miner, then briefly as a medic in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon, then a short while in service of the Decepticons as a field medic before becoming a neutral and then shifting to a full time Autobot Medical Officer. It's quite the story— you've seen him from every perspective and watched him grow from every angle. A quiet observer. And somehow, he's managed to encounter you every single time when you're in a new phase of your life— He doesn't understand how. It's like the universe was playing some sparkdamn prank on him. You've managed to encounter him enough times to know him well enough.

Yet he doesn't know a single thing about you.

And so, it is painfully awkward to be here with you, again. It's like the two of you were destined to meet only ever in the most awkward pretense possible and Megatron would've wanted to personally crush Rodimus’ helm open for that had he been his younger, ruthless self but he keeps telling himself that he's a better mech now. He isn't sure how many “I'm a better bot now” he has left in him as the you and him are now stuck in this room together. Rodimus said something about the ‘awkward tension’ between the two of you creating ‘disharmony in the balance and the crew dynamic’ but before Megatron could ask what fragging balance the speedster was yapping on about, he was promptly thrown into this room with you. He suspects Rodimus somehow brought either Ultra Magnus or Fortress Maximus onboard with this idea and that baffles him.

He knows you probably feel the same way the rest of the crew feels, the silence between the two of you is deafening. Megatron’s black digits gently tap the surface of the seat he's sitting on while you seem to be busy fidgeting with your own digits, looking down away from him, as if you were dragged in here against your will as well. He empathises with you.

The bench you two sit on is connected to the wall. Megatron looks down at your seated figure, almost coy. But it's the sheer awkwardness of this situation that's weighing on him. You… really haven't changed a bit from your time at the mines. He can almost remember it fondly.

You were a young miner like him but fortunate enough to stumble upon thrown away medical datapads, using them to train yourself to be an unofficial medic of sorts. It's not like you could afford to take the license to be an official medical practitioner but it was admirable nonetheless; working double shifts but still teaching yourself the fundamentals of Cybertronian anatomy— especially for frames of the lower classes like the two of you were. Perhaps it was your determination he admired or maybe your kindness— you were willing to use what you learnt to help others down there, including himself. Even gave him pointers, enough to take care of minor injuries by himself and he did always want to be a medic.

Primus, the way he used to look at you back then. It's embarrassing, Megatron's opinion. The two of you are much, much older than then now so it's not like those feelings linger. You probably didn't even know his designation was back then, too awkward to say anything to you and he remembers how spark-crushing it felt when you first addressed him as ‘Impactor's friend’.

Don't even get him started on the embarrassing amount of poetry—

“You… You still into poetry?” You ask and in turn break the suffocating silence, finding the strength to look up at him despite the sheer awkwardness from this entire confrontation. You probably expected to spend more time at the medbay with Ratchet instead of being cooped up in a room with the ex-Warlord himself. It seems you're still kind & generous, generous enough to spare him from having to think of something to say. Megatron shifts in his seat uncomfortably, your Tarnian accent, the informality of it, it reminds him of the mines; it's nostalgic in a way.

“You… know of my poetry?” He replies, somewhat surprised you'd remember. But keeping his composure. Megatron didn't really share any of his works to his fellow miners, only ever publishing them under his pen-name. You just blink at him confused, you backstruts straightening a little as you sit with proper posture, almost as if you're alert.

“Of course, I do! Remember when you got off that rocket fuel Impactor smuggled and—”

“Please. Do not. Don't… Don't remind me of that.” The moment you mentioned rocket fuel and Impactor smuggling, the memory hit him like a flash bang. His tone is quiet, not dangerously quiet but the sort of quiet you have when your mother embarrasses you in front of her friends. Megatron felt oddly.. small at that moment, in a way he's never felt. You still remember that!? Oh Primus. It's nostalgic but it wasn't one of his proudest moments. Drunk off his aft from cheap smuggled fuel and proceeded to recite poetry to a small audience, he must've been too intoxicated to realize you were there that day.

Megatron fails to realize that he's accidentally shut down your attempt at conversation and you go quiet. Looking back down at your servos, you're back to fidgeting your digits.

More awkward silence ensues.

Every astrocycle feels like vorns.

Megatron sighs. It's his turn. He needs to get a grip of himself. He's cold and calculative but it seems he can't control what he feels as if he's some sparkdamn newly-built fresh off the assembly. He takes in a vent, just to prepare himself. Conversation has never felt so frustrating before.

Megatron feels nothing for you. He knows that. It's been eons since he's seen you the last time, the way your frame looks slightly worn is proof of that. To be blunt, the two of you are relics of the past. Whatever happened in those mines, stays in those mines was what he always told himself. But that might not be what you tell yourself. Megatron has to remind himself of that, the nostalgia weighs in on his old spark— He feels younger somehow, sitting next to you. Too conscious about himself to really say a word to you despite his subtle interest you were oblivious to.

“Did you.. like my poetry?” He asks, his optics slowly moving to look over at you. Megatron's helm unmoving as his servos are crossed over his chassis, he looks as disinterested as ever despite his internal conflict on what to say. A naturally cold face which took a lot of effort for him to keep.

“Well…” You take a moment to recall his drunken words. “I think an opinion would've been possible if you weren't slurring over your words.” You smile a bit, it's a fond smile. You don't seem to have the same… sadness Megatron has when recalling the mines.

“Hm. Shame I don't have the original copy then.” He mumbles out, trying not to feel anything from that smile. No. No, you deserve so much better than him. You were just a silly crush to him, nothing more. Most of his poetry was unfortunately destroyed by the functionists after his relocation to Messatine.

Megatron remembers so well— How your rough digits would fix his faceplates with such soft gentleness that only a lover could replicate or how your servos would tenderly hold onto his dislocated stabilizing servo after a cave in, before the sharp pain shooting up his frame when you give it a rough but precise yank. You've saved his life more times than he can count, really.

“What was I even reciting about? It's astonishing how you can even remember that.” He asks, filling in the silence. His helm turned over to look at as you hum, trying to recall.

“Something about a lover's caress and sparks that heal.” You say as you think. His frame stiffens and goes thankfully unnoticed by you.

Megatron wrote that one about you.

“Ah. Well.. hm.. That wasn't my proudest work.” He says, taking a sharp in-vent before he hums, almost flustered. Almost. The stone-faced facade was easy to keep up, years after commanding a war made it appear natural.

“Oh, I thought it was beautiful. Really… spark touching.” You reassure and it somehow makes the odd flustered-ness arise in his spark, it's foreign. He hasn't felt this way in millennia. Your response is earnest but you seem to struggle to find the exact words, much like himself. A relief. It's not just him that's struggling with Rodimus’ idiocy. “Even if you were slurring them out. I just wish more of it was actually intelligible.” You add on.

“At least it wasn't as embarrassing as I thought it must've been.” Megatron mumbles as he leans against the wall with a sigh. He remembers when Impactor told him what happened, Megatron never put his servos on rocket fuel ever again.

“Do you still write?” You ask, looking at him with curiosity. Refusing to allow the awkward silence creep into the conversation again.

“Last time I wrote something, it triggered a civil war.” Megatron's gruff voice sounds somewhat tired— He loved writing. Megatron managed to write a few poems here and there as a gladiator even but once the war started, he had almost no time at all for his forgotten hobby. Four million years out of practice until recently.

You just laugh a bit at his dry humor.

“I meant poetry, not philosophy or politics.”

Megatron pauses for a moment. He did have some poems. Considering has quite literally no one to converse with on this ship means he has his free time despite his co-captainly duties.

“Well,” He starts off with a somewhat softer tone. “I have been.. practicing as of late. A lot more free time than I'm accustomed to.” He admits, Megatron is really not used to having nothing to do— which is both relieving and frustrating. Megatron has so many questions to ask you but he doesn't know how to. How did you end up being a medic at the gladiatorial pits he was in? Why did you become a Decepticon? Why did you become neutral for a short while? What turned you to the Autobots?

“Yes, that's a good way to keep yourself occupied. I usually just… sculpt things.”

Oh. You sculpt? Megatron didn't know that. He's going to take a mental note of that. His helm turns towards you, crimson optics narrowing curiously at you. There's so much he doesn't know.

“You sculpt?”

You nod. “Yes, I wanted to be a sculptor. I like making things.” You add on. You're quiet and well-mannered. Probably because the two of you are much older now, of course you'd be more mature. At least it makes it easier for him to converse with you. Megatron finds an odd sense of irony in your words.

“Hm. I wanted to be a medic.” Megatron mutters out, looking at your face sends a rush of somber nostalgia.

“I remember. You told me when I was fixing your face after–”

“The cave-in at sector Delta 12.” Megatron finishes your sentence, he didn't mean to interrupt but you just seemed to remember everything. It surprises him. You gave him some pointers on how to fix himself after that incident. That was the first time he met you, Impactor said he knew someone that could give Megatron a quick fix— Megatron didn't really have the financial situation to pay for any of the medics, not to mention how atrocious their prices were so he hesitantly agreed.

“How do you remember all of that?” Megatron asks with a surprising amount of sincerity. You keep digging up old memories the war had washed away with its tides, memories beneath layers of sand.

“Hm. I'm actually not sure. I just do.” You shrug. Perhaps this was a reminder as to how far from his path he had deviated, to a point where even the fonder memories he had as a miner were buried. They were surviving under the Senate but not living, so the younger Megatron threw away all he knew from the mines. Everything other than hate and anger.

“I suppose my memories of you stuck with me because I… uhm…” He notices your hesitance and quirks up an optical ridge, you're struggling to find the words just like him. There is a subtle heat from your faceplates as you're sitting there.

“I had a liking of sorts.. towards you.”

For a moment, Megatron’s world stopped spinning and his crimson optics widened a bit— Had he been that young miner from Tarn, he would have rejoiced on the inside and been a clueless mess on the outside. Maybe even wrote a poem about it when he got to his excuse of a living space.

“You.. You did?” Megatron is not sure what else to ask.

You once again nod but slower, almost like you're embarrassed. It's sort of hilarious to think about, a four million year old delayed confession.

“I'd rather not talk about it but I liked how soft-spoken and polite you were. Smart and real poetic. I thought that was attractive.” Your admission might've made him smile a bit. A bit.

The universe has a strange sense of humor. That was the only conclusion Megatron could draw because his spark was back to its fluttering like it used to when he saw you back then and he had to physically stop himself from thinking about punching his chassis to make it stop.

He still barely knew you.

Megatron is not a young miner anymore.

But again, Primus knows how long Rodimus intends to keep the two of you here.

Ah. To the Pit with it. He's getting the chance he never got back then. Might as well use it to get to know you better. You don't seem to be as hesitant as conversing with him as compared to the rest.

awkward moments with an ex-warlord because your captain wants to drive Megs insane

[handweavers]

something that comes up for me over and over is a deep frustration with academics who write about and study craft but have little hands-on experience with working with that craft, because it leads to them making mistakes in their analysis and even labelling of objects and techniques incorrectly. i see this from something as simple as textiles on display in museums being labelled with techniques that are very obviously wrong (claiming something is knit when it's clearly crochet, woven when that technique could only be done as embroidery applied to cloth off-loom) to articles and books written about the history of various aspects of textiles making considerable errors when trying to describe basic aspects of textile craft-knowledge (ex. a book i read recently that tried to say that dyeing cotton is far easier than dyeing wool because cotton takes colour more easily than wool, and used that as part of an argument as to why cotton became so prominent in the industrial revolution, which is so blatantly incorrect to any dyer that it seriously harms the argument being made even if the overall point is ultimately correct)

the thing is that craft is a language, an embodied knowledge that crosses the boundaries of spoken communication into a physical understanding. craft has theory, but it is not theoretical: there is a necessary physicality to our work, to our knowledge, that cannot be substituted. two artisans who share a craft share a language, even if that language is not verbal. when you understand how a material functions and behaves without deliberate thought, when the material knowledge becomes instinct, when your hands know these things just as well if not better than your conscious mind does, new avenues of communication are opened. an embodied knowledge of a craft is its own language that is able to be communicated across time, and one easily misunderstood by those without that fluency. an academic whose knowledge is entirely theoretical may look at a piece of metalwork from the 3rd century and struggle to understand the function or intent of it, but if you were to show the same piece to a living blacksmith they would likely be able to tell you with startling accuracy what their ancient colleague was trying to do.

a more elaborate example: when i was in residence at a dye studio on bali, the dyer who mentored me showed me a bowl of shimmering grey mud, and explained in bahasa that they harvest the mud several feet under the roots of certain species of mangroves. once the mud is cleaned and strained, it's mixed with bran water and left to ferment for weeks to months.�� he noted that the mud cannot be used until the fermentation process has left a glittering sheen to its surface. when layered over a fermented dye containing the flowers from a tree, the cloth turns grey, and repeated dippings in the flower-liquid and mud vats deepen this colour until it's a warm black. 

he didn't explain why this works, and he did not have to. his methods are different from mine, but the same chemical processes are occurring. tannins always turn grey when they interact with iron and they don't react to other additives the same way, so tannins (polyphenols) and iron must be fundamental parts of this process. many types of earthen clay contain a type of bacteria that creates biogenic iron as a byproduct, and mixing bran water with this mud would give the bacteria sugars to feast upon, multiplying, and producing more of this biogenic iron. when the iron content is high enough that the mud shimmers, applying this fermented mixture to cloth soaked in tannins would cause the iron to react with the tannin and finally, miraculously: a deep, living grey-black cloth.

in my dye studio i have dissolved iron sulphide ii in boiling water and submerged cloth soaked in tannin extract in this iron water, and watched it emerge, chemically altered, now deep and living grey-black just like the cloth my mentor on bali dyed. when i watched him dip cloth in this brown bath of fermented flower-water, and then into the shimmering mud and witness the cloth emerge this same shade of grey, i understand exactly what he was doing and why. embodied craft knowledge is its own language, and if you're going to dedicate your life to writing about a craft it would be of great benefit to actually "speak" that language, or you're likely to make serious errors.

the arrogance is not that different from a historian or anthropologist who tries to study a culture or people without understanding their written or spoken tongue, and then makes mistakes in their analysis because they are fundamentally disconnected from the way the people they are talking about communicate. the voyeuristic academic desire to observe and analyse the world at a distance, without participating in it. how often academics will write about social movements, political theory and philosophy and never actually get involved in any of these movements while they're happening. my issue with the way they interact with craft is less serious than the others i mentioned, but one that constantly bothers me when coming into contact with the divide between "those who make a living writing about a subject" and "those who make a living doing that subject"

[sirfrogsworth]

Falling into the AI vortex.

Before I deeply criticize something, I try to understand it more than surface level.

With guns, I went into deep research mode and learned as much as I could about the actual guns so I could be more effective in my gun control advocacy.

I learned things like... silencers are not silent. They are mainly for hearing protection and not assassinations. It's actually small caliber subsonic ammo that is a concern for covert shooting. A suppressor can aid with that goal, but its benefits as hearing protection outweigh that very rare circumstance.

AR15s... not that powerful. They use a tiny bullet. Originally it could not even be used against thick animal hides. It was classified as a "varmint hunting" gun. There are other factors that make it more dangerous like lightweight ammo, magazine capacity, medium range accuracy, and being able to penetrate things because the tiny bullets go faster. But in most mass shooting situations where the shooting distance is less than 20 feet, they really aren't more effective than a handgun. They are just popular for that purpose. Dare I say... a mass shooting fad or cliche. But there are several handguns that could be more powerful and deadly—capable of one bullet kills if shot anywhere near the chest. And easier to conceal and operate in close quarters like a school hallway.

This deeper understanding tells me that banning one type of gun may not be the solution people are hoping for. And that if you don't approach gun control holistically (all guns vs one gun), you may only get marginal benefits from great effort and resources.

Now I'm starting the same process with AI tools.

Everyone is stuck in "AI is bad" mode. And I understand why. But I worry there is nuance we are missing with this reactionary approach. Plus, "AI is bad" isn't a solution to the problem. It may be bad, but it is here and we need to figure out realistic approaches to mitigate the damage.

So I have been using AI tools. I am trying to understand how they work, what they are good for, and what problems we should be most worried about.

I've been at this for nearly a month and this may not be what everyone wants to hear, but I have had some surprising interactions with AI. Good interactions. Helpful interactions. I was even able to use it to help me keep from an anxiety thought spiral. It was genuinely therapeutic. And I am still processing that experience and am not sure what to say about it yet.

If I am able to write an essay on my findings and thoughts, I hope people will understand why I went into the belly of the beast. I hope they won't see me as an AI traitor.

A big part of my motivation to do this was because of a friend of mine. He was hit by a drunk driver many years ago. He is a quadriplegic. He has limited use of his arms and hands and his head movement is constrained.

When people say, "just pick up a pencil and learn to draw" I always cringe at his expense. He was an artist. He already learned how to pick up a pencil and draw. That was taken away from him. (And please don't say he can stick a pencil in his mouth. Some quads have that ability—he does not. It is not a thing all of them can do.) But now he has a tool that allows him to be creative again. And it has noticeably changed his life. It is a kind of art therapy that has had massive positive effects on his depression.

We have had a couple of tense arguments about the ethics of AI. He is all-in because of his circumstances. And it is difficult to express my opinions when faced with that. But he asked and I answered. He tried to defend it and did a poor job. Which, considering how smart he is, was hard to watch.

But I love my friend and I feel I'd like to at least know what I'm talking about. I want to try and experience the benefits he is seeing. And I'd like to see if there is a way for this technology to exist where it doesn't hurt more than it helps.

I don't know when I will be done with my experiment. My health is improving but I am still struggling and I will need to cut my dose again soon. But for now I am just collecting information and learning.

I guess I just wanted to prepare people for what I'm doing.

And ask they keep an open mind with my findings. Not all of them will be "AI is bad."

[astra-ravana]

During A Lunar Eclipse

The total lunar eclipse on the night of March 13-14, 2025, will be visible across the Midwest. During totality (1:26 AM - 2:31 AM), the Moon will take on a reddish hue due to Earth's atmosphere filtering sunlight.

Lunar eclipses are powerful celestial events that carry deep spiritual and magickal significance. They represent a time of transformation, endings, revelations, and deep shadow work. This guide explores the mystical potential of lunar eclipse magick, including its meanings, best practices, spells, and rituals.

Understanding the Magick of a Lunar Eclipse

Astrological and Energetic Influence

• A lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth moves between the Sun and the Moon, casting a shadow over the Moon. This symbolizes the veiling of emotions (the Moon) by external forces (the Earth) and the light of consciousness (the Sun).

• Eclipses are seen as moments of fate, bringing hidden truths to the surface.

• They mark a time of release, transformation, and karmic cycles closing.

• The astrological sign in which the eclipse occurs influences the type of energy being released.

Why is Lunar Eclipse Magick Different?

• Unlike regular full moons, lunar eclipses are highly unstable energetically, making them unsuitable for typical full moon rituals (such as manifestation and charging tools).

• Instead, they are ideal for banishing, shadow work, endings, spiritual transformation, and ancestral work.

• Eclipses accelerate spiritual evolution, so spells and intentions cast during this time may have rapid and intense results.

Preparing for Lunar Eclipse Magick

Set Your Intentions Wisely

Since the energies of a lunar eclipse can be unpredictable, take time to reflect on what you truly need to release or transform. Ask yourself:

• What patterns or emotional wounds am I ready to face?

• What cycles in my life are ending?

• What do I need to purge to make space for new growth?

Create a Sacred Space

• Cleanse your space with smoke (sage, palo santo, mugwort) or sound (bells, singing bowls).

• Dim the lights or use candles to reflect the shadowy energy of the eclipse.

• Set up an altar with items related to the Moon (silver objects, lunar crystals like moonstone and selenite, bowls of water).

• If working with deities, ancestors, or spirits, invite them with offerings (wine, honey, incense, or symbolic items).

Ground and Protect Yourself

• Meditate for a few minutes to center yourself.

• Visualize a protective shield of light surrounding you.

• Carry or place grounding crystals like black tourmaline, obsidian, or hematite nearby.

Lunar Eclipse Rituals and Spells

Shadow Work Ritual (Best for Inner Healing & Self-Discovery)

Needed:

• A journal or piece of paper

• A black candle

• A mirror

Instructions:

Light the black candle and sit in front of the mirror. Gaze into your own eyes, asking: What truths do I need to face? What parts of myself have I been avoiding? Write down the thoughts and emotions that arise. After journaling, say,

"Under the shadowed Moon, I embrace my hidden self. May I heal, grow, and transform."

Blow out the candle, thanking the eclipse energy for its lessons.

Banishing and Cord-Cutting Spell (Best for Letting Go & Breaking Attachments)

Needed:

• A piece of paper

• A black string or cord

• A candle (black or white)

• A bowl of saltwater

Instructions:

Write down what you want to release (a habit, fear, toxic relationship). Tie the black string around the paper, symbolizing your attachment. Light the candle and say,

"By the power of this eclipse, I release what no longer serves me. The past is gone, the future is mine."

Cut the string with scissors or burn the paper, then drop it into the bowl of saltwater. Dispose of the remnants outside to finalize the release.

Ancestral Connection & Divination (Best for Seeking Guidance & Wisdom)

Needed:

• A photo or object of an ancestor/spirit guide

• A candle (blue or white)

• Tarot or oracle cards

• Mugwort or rosemary incense

Instructions:

Light the candle and incense, inviting your ancestors to join. Meditate, focusing on their presence, and ask for guidance. Shuffle and draw tarot/oracle cards with the question: 'What message do my ancestors have for me?' Record any insights, dreams, or emotions that come through. Thank your ancestors, leaving an offering if desired.

Moon Water for Releasing (Best for Cleansing & Emotional Healing)

Unlike regular full moon water, eclipse-charged water is best used for cleansing rather than charging magical tools.

Instructions:

Place a bowl or jar of water outside during the lunar eclipse. Whisper into the water,

"Absorb the power of transformation, cleanse all that is old."

Use this water later for ritual baths, washing hands after shadow work, or sprinkling around your space for energetic cleansing.

What NOT to Do During a Lunar Eclipse

• Avoid manifestation or charging crystals. The chaotic energy can create unintended effects.

• Do not perform love spells or attraction rituals. Eclipse energy is about endings, not beginnings.

• Refrain from making drastic life decisions. Emotions run high, and things might appear differently after the eclipse.

• Don’t ignore your emotions. If deep feelings arise, acknowledge and process them rather than suppressing them.

Post-Eclipse Integration & Grounding

After the eclipse, you may feel drained or overwhelmed. Here’s how to rebalance:

• Take a Ritual Bath: Use Epsom salts, lavender, or rosemary to cleanse residual energies.

• Journal Your Experience: Write down any emotions, visions, or messages you received.

• Eat Grounding Foods: Root vegetables, herbal teas, and nuts help stabilize your energy.

• Spend Time in Nature: Walking barefoot on grass or meditating outside aids in grounding.

• Rest and Reflect: Eclipse energy lingers for a few days, so give yourself time to process.

Lunar eclipses are portals of deep transformation, offering opportunities for profound inner work. By approaching them with respect, intention, and awareness, you can harness their power for spiritual evolution, healing, and release.

[nightscythe]

crimson affliction [three]

→ sanguinius x gn!reader → 3.2k, 18+ mdni, cw: psychological horror/obsession/sacrificial/ suicide mentions. dead dove type thing → pre-heresy, sanguinius’ thirst is different to that of his sons, but it’s far more potent than anything they’d understand 

[prev: two] - part 3/5 // series masterpost

“You promised me.”

You nod, but no words.

“You said you were mine.”

Your chest tightens.

He can’t look at you.

“You didn’t think I’d feel the weight of abandonment.”

He can’t think about anything else.

 “From the one person who mattered to me?”

Days had passed.

Perhaps longer.

Not a sound that carried his presence could be heard. Not even the faintest of whispers in the void beyond reality you tried so hard not to understand.

He’d helped you track the time as it went by before. Now, you were alone.

Not even his soul within reach.

Never did you think loneliness would sting as much as it did. You’d asked for it all this time, begged on your knees for him to let you go. Now he did, and all you could do was wish to have him back. To feel comfort from a presence where blood was frozen beneath your skin, cracked only by the deep-set desire for him to be nearby.

Your location was unknown. You’d run until your legs gave out, climbed until you had no strength, begged others to pass through their gates against their warnings of a bad omen following behind you the entire way.

You were far away from him. From everything.

You grimaced as you stretched your back against the cold brick behind you. A stable, abandoned by a villager on a world you’d forgotten the name of. Your legs still didn’t want to assist you, your arms were shaking, and your hands were useless, twitching every time you tried to grasp something beneath you.

Your ribs ached enough to hide the pain of slow starvation. Ironic, really, that you’d feel what he claimed you caused him. Food hadn’t been part of the plan, and you’d only been spared a cup of water a few towns back. Your throat was dry, your lips cracked and bleeding.

It was hard to care about it.

Hard to feel anything other than pity. Regret. Solace.

He’d killed so many people. For the greater good, of course. Was this what they felt, as death’s embrace fell upon them? When he looked them in the eyes and promised them salvation?

Body letting go, mind silencing for longer each passing minute.

Your head tipped to the side as your eyes fell shut. Reality seemed to pass in waves, shrouded by the bitter dream you held beneath it all.

You could hear his voice somewhere within. It was always there. Burned into your soul as your pulse became heavier in your ears, your heart starting to trip in its own rhythm.

I will never let you die. It was a promise he’d made without thinking. A fear you’d revealed to him in the grace of love. He’d meant so much more by it. He couldn’t let you die.

Yet here you were.

Death knocking at your door, wondering why you hadn’t gathered the strength to open it yet.

You were too busy watching out into the fog of darkness, Sanguinius’ body traversing the haze, eyes never leaving yours.

He’d fight death for you without any contemplation. Just say the words.

I would spend every moment worshipping you. His voice was warm then, laced with the gentleness you loved him for. Your mind crafted the feeling of his hands on your skin, all over you, embracing you in his holiness as if you would break without him. I would spend every moment making you mine.

You told him he was dramatic. Laughed, even. He never returned it. Only held you tighter, looked at you like the fading light of day.

The smile on your lips started to fade.

Heat washed through you as your lungs burned, forcing you to cough something metallic from within. You could feel it in your chest, the sharp pain that clawed its way through to the surface. The wall was the only support you had, even your neck now giving up.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Wonder why he’d loved you.

Wonder why you’d ever let him.

Your hands, limp in your lap, shake from the very thoughts. You force them to dig into your thighs, grabbing onto anything available just for the moment. You can see his eyes again; those crimson things, staring back at you like a warning you never heeded.

Your body jolts. It knows better. It knows the pain he caused.

He loved you too much.

That was all your mind could manage.

Your heart said so much more.

You can’t open your eyes; your energy is focused on talking. You swallow the thick feeling at the back of your throat, pain seething through you again as your voice found purpose, though barely a breath.

“If you can hear me…”

It wasn’t goodbye. It never was with him.

But whatever this was, it was close.

You whisper carefully. “I’m sorry.”

His name isn’t something you can bear.

“I loved you.” You swallow again, forcing the bile in your throat back down each time it threatens you. “I still do. I… always have.”

Your eyes peek open. Half-lidded, cold, barely there. The ceiling seems further away than before.

“I’ve… never stopped.” Your voice trembled. You pull your fingers into your fists like it would stop them shaking, too. “I didn’t want to leave. I never wanted anything but… you.”

You look down at your hands. Fragile things, still unable to keep still. You stretch one hand out and raise it, slowly, the tips of your fingers just grazing your neck.

“I thought you’d let me go.”

You trace the skin where there’s the tiniest of scars, purposefully placed to minimise their harm. He’d kissed you, bitten you, like it was love.

“I thought we could save each other,” you murmur. The scoff your brain tries to add never actualises. “That we’d both be okay if I was strong enough.”

You shouldn’t cry for him, but maybe your tears knew how much he thirsted, that it was worse than you.

It falls down your cheek, your chin, then drips onto your heaving chest. Breathing is harder, the air seems thicker.

“I know you loved me,” you voice gently, words slurring together, “and… you’re no monster.”

You close your eyes again. The light barricades your senses. Your limbs are dead weights. The room you couldn’t see was spinning.

“Don’t be angry. Please.”

You sigh. Breath catches in your throat.

“Don’t embrace your hatred.”

Your heart stutters.

“I know you won’t find someone else.”

Your body was shutting down.

“But please try to…”

Your chest throbs. You wince in response.

“Try to understand, I always…”

You always thought he’d be there at the end.

The thought of him stops you from saying another word.

The thought of him stops you from existing entirely.

Until you feel a warmth that wasn’t present before.

Nothing like expected from the reality you faced.

The stone wasn’t cold, nor hard. Nothing felt real in the way it did before. Warmth from a new source, softness from a lack of knowing.

Your ribs ached, but not in the mind-numbing way they did before, your mind struggling to consider the truth of reality. You could feel your breath shaking through your entire body, cushioned by softness otherwise unknown.

You were scared to open your eyes.

Then you heard the sweetest voice you could be gifted with.

“I know you’d call for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You’re slow to look, but when the light hits you, the world bleeds into your focus. Not the same room, but nothing you recognised. Something old. Quiet.

Filled to the brim with his presence, the one you had begged for in death.

Presented to you like the greatest gift man could know.

He kneeled in front of you. Not looking at you, focused on his own hands, palms turned to face the sky like he’d offered something forbidden.

The room was lit well, the dust in the air visible through streaks of golden light. You could see his eyes reflected in his armour, the red hue glowing from his iris, veins beneath the surface visible even in such a state.

Then, a drip.

A stria of blood from his lips to his chin, some pathing down his neck, the other dropping down to his armour and pooling on the metal. It’s not old, it’s not his. It’s fresh but no longer warm.

He’d not even tried to hide it.

Your next breath was halted.

His too.

His wings curled inwards, his golden hair tangled, his body forced into submission by the powers that controlled every aspect of his being.

He couldn’t touch you. He was restraining his own hand from reaching out to you.

Barely breathing, barely existing without you.

Afraid that he’d never have you back again.

Afraid to find out if he’d caused that.

“I knew,” he begins the same way he spoke before. Quietly, like he’d wake her if the words came louder. You’d have thought it a dream if you didn’t see his lips move, too. “I know you’d want me with you again.”

His voice wasn’t broken, yet his demeanour was.

Humanity seeped through his pores and reminded him of what was real for the first time.

“You never wanted to run,” he continues. He smiles somewhere underneath. “You never wanted me to leave.”

He pauses. Never looks away from his hands.

“You don’t mean it.”

He’s hesitant with his hand, allowing himself to reach for your knee, the closest part of your body to him. He hovers over you, tracing the outline of your body up to your chest, never looking up.

“I forgive you,” he confesses. He smiles, this time with more fervour. Your heart betrays you. He freezes. “I could never hate you or spare an ounce of anger in place of love. What a waste it would be, my little muse, my greatest love.”

He exhales. Finally looks from his hand to his side. He reaches his hand to his mouth, carefully wiping the blood from the curve of his jaw with his middle and ring finger.

“I know you understand.” He watches his fingers, the blood glistening in the light. “I know you trust me. I know I can make everything right. You will see that.”

He brings his two fingers to his lips, delicately tasting what remains. He sighs, closing his eyes as the taste enthrals him.

Silence replaces everything.

Until you dare to speak his name, his memory, back into existence.

“Sanguinius.”

It was a breathless plea; one he caught without knowing it was coming. He inhales, sharp, like his mind had taken him far from her to something worse.

He glances up. Eyes alight with the fire of longing, fingers aching from yearning. He wouldn’t cry, not now, but his eyes were glassy.

Your lips open, but he denies you more words. He collapses forward, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him, never ceasing the moment of love to exist between you.

“You’re alive,” he whispers. He presses his forehead against your own, hands tangling in your hair as he holds you closer. His wings move to shield you from life itself. “You’re alive. You… are alive.”

You try to nod, try to reach your hand to somewhere near his own. You want to run, but you want to embrace him, have him hold you and take you somewhere safe, somewhere life wouldn’t hurt you any longer.

“You came back to me,” he says.

Your hands still shake. He notices, takes your hand in his, holds it tight and shares all the warmth he ever had. You try to reach your fingers around his palm.

“I knew you would come back to me,” he repeats. He presses his lips to yours, dousing your cracked skin in the blood he carried. Your body shivers, the metallic taste not so prevalent anymore. “I knew you would be okay, my love.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. When he pulls away, your eyes fall to the smudged blood that decorates him. You see the way his tongue darts out, just a little, to savour the taste. It wasn’t his. Too sweet, too easy.

He doesn’t let you reach for your neck. He clasps both hands in his own and makes you ask.

“You found me?”

He smiles fondly. Like you should be grateful. “I saved you.”

“What…” you stop yourself as your gaze shifts away from his eyes momentarily. He never changes. He’s almost proud. “What did you do?”

He takes both your hands between his, leaning back on his knees so he can watch over you. His wings frame his side, like the guardian he thought himself to be. “I could not let anything happen to you. It’s unforgivable. If anything happened to you, I’d…”

He looks at you. Stops. Eyes are glassy once again.

His breath trembles, his lips part. He says nothing.

He falls to you one more time, embracing you against him, cradling your body like it was no longer your own.

“No more of this,” he tells you. His hand supports the back of your head as your head falls into his shoulder. Your arms, depleted and cold, reach around him like it was the natural order, betraying you in the worst way. “No more suffering. No more running.”

The crush of his embrace stops your words. Your lungs are never allowed to replenish.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, so gently as he pulls back, never leaving more than an inch between you both. “You’ve returned to me for good.

His fingers tremble against you, drumming as though they miss the feel of your pulse against them. The divine affliction, the crimson rot within, had eroded past what he could understand as right and wrong.

When you breathe, he falls into a trance. When you swallow, he’s watching you like prey. When you try to pull him back to you, his eyes glow.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” His hold on you tightens, just enough to make sure you can’t run. “Please don’t shake. Please don’t think of another negative. I will make everything better. I’ll change everything. You’ll see.”

Your heart is racing. You try to snap his attention away. “Sanguinius…”

“You’ll be okay,” he interrupts. He smiles, though not an ounce of calm remains. “I know it was a mistake. You didn’t mean to break me.”

He closes his eyes. Exhales, slowly.

“You didn’t know… what it would do to me.”

When he looks at you, the feeling has changed.

He’s been replaced, his fire extinguished, soul dampened.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have everything and it still not be enough.” He whimpers, tries to hide it behind a laugh. Restrained from anything further. “You don’t know how I searched for you. How I need more of you, in every way.”

You can’t meet his eyes when he says it.

He notices. His smile fades.

Your heart still races.

“You still don’t understand.” He never gives you the distance you need in return. Never wonders why. “You think I would bring you harm.”

You can’t answer.

“You said…” he pauses, recounting the scene in his head as his eyes flicker closed. He nods to himself when he remembers. “You told me you’d love through anything. That you still love me.”

“I do,” you whisper. He doesn’t respond. You try again, louder. “I do. I love you.”

He hums. Scoffs, even. Never soothed by what you offer, his voice succumbed to the embers of fury that lay dormant in his soul. “You told me you would never be afraid of what I am.”

“I’m… I’m not afraid.”

“You told me you would stay.” He speaks louder with each passing word. “You told me you would never leave.”

“I…”

“You ran.” His rage sits on the edge of surprise. He’s pained by his own tone, conflicted within. “Why would you run if all of that were true?”

Your mouth is dry. He cups your cheeks with his hands, holding you as complete perfection.

“You promised me.”

You nod, but no words.

“You said you were mine.”

Your chest tightens.

“Yet you ran,” he finishes. He chokes on his breath, shoulders twitching as he pulls his hands from your face. “You didn’t think that it would hurt me.”

He can’t look at you.

“You didn’t think I’d feel the weight of abandonment.”

He can’t think about anything else.

 “From the one person who mattered to me?”

Your breath hitches. “I couldn’t…”

He places your hand over your mouth. Calmly, gently. Never pressuring you, only keeping the truth from spilling over.

“Don’t say it.”

You nod.

“I know it isn’t true. You said yes to me. You allowed me in.”

Your lips tremble beneath his touch. He pulls his hand away, scowling at his own hand. He breathes deeply before leaning back to you one more time, grasping your hand in his with no intention to let go.

“No one will ever hurt you, or harm you, or even touch you. I wouldn’t let them,” he promises you. He brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles gently, a seal to his oath. “No one will ever take you from me.”

You can’t bear to look away from him, fearful to break him again.

“I found you because I was meant to.”

His smile is hopeful. A shiver runs down your spine.

“I had to save you. I was meant to save you every time. We are not destined to be apart. Look what happens when we aren’t together? Look at what happens when you try to challenge fate?”

He leans closer, slower now. Press his lips to your forehead, then to each of your cheeks and finally to your lips. Leaves the faded, bloodied stain of him behind in his wake.

“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you love me again.”

You shouldn’t hesitate as long as you did. He’s too lost to notice.

“…I love you.”

He huffs cheerfully, smiling wider than before. He rests his forehead against yours once more as he sinks into the feeling, the aftermath of words that could have been said without any meaning.

All that mattered was that he believed.

“I would end every life in the galaxy for one more day of your love.”

“You don’t…” Your words fade. He’s not listening. Not really. Trying felt like a necessity. “You already have it.”

He nods. Your words sink through him. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“You’ll be safe,” he continues, pulling away so easily, detaching from your fear. “Nothing will harm you there. Ever.”

“That…”

“You can rest,” he interrupts once again, preventing the words he’s afraid to hear, stopping any protest with aid from your weakness. “You’ll feel better soon. I can promise you that. I won’t leave your side until then.”

It’s not as if you can fight him.

He picks you up, a feather to him, unburdened by anything related to you. Holds you in his arms and lulls you back to rest with your head on his shoulder.

“No more fears.” He holds you so tight. So hot. “Nothing can take you from me again.”

You can hear his footsteps, the heavy door closing behind him, the faded lights of familiarity that made you question whether you had never even been away from home to begin with.

You hear his voice again as slumber consumes you.

A threat, a scare, a promise, a declaration of love.

“I missed you, little lamb.”

whenever i write this i get super distracted by other ideas for magnus and fulgrim, and i try to do their prologues and this drags me back again. i'm hoping to get their prologues done soon anyway, so at least you know the flavour; still glad i wrote this one first of the three though. its somehow not as clinical as the others.

[dnickels]

Its been six years and we all know this but the writing on Terror is so tight I can never get over it. Take one line: "It is no accident the world was reborn clean out of an ark" and think of all the the things it tells us about Irving, how he understands the world and how he understands himself. Not just "this guy is religious" but that he understands their situation to be analogous to one of the more dire acts of God, the total destruction of all life on earth as punishment for humanity's transgressions. But clearly, since he's on the ark, he must be one of he elect. An ominous fin parts the water and the many-toothed maw of Calvin breaches the surface, then disappears back to the depths. But of course one can never be sure of one's own righteousness, guarding always against vanity, so total withdrawal from the wicked world and constant internal surveillance of one's own nature is a must.

Because of course if someone volunteers that they think it good to be separated from the temptations of the world, even under such dire circumstances, we start wonder what those temptations are-- what's keeping you from getting a seat on the ark?

It also distinguishes him from the expedition's other vocal evangelical, Sir John. Think of the difference between angels soaring overhead, the invisible world of light etc, and the scouring violence of the flood to make the world clean. The difference between "God loves you :)" and "God will take a brillo pad to your sinful flesh...because he loves you".

And if we wanted to stretch this bad boy beyond the bounds of reasonable inference (my favorite) we could place him among early 19th century scriptural geologist types who are using the tools of the Enlightenment to try and walk back any philosophical gains by proving that the Biblical flood was a real and literal occurrence that left worldwide evidence. This isn't a story he's telling himself, its the physical observable reality of the world. It's carved in the rock. And yet, when someone implies that they don't believe, its catastrophic. You're not supposed to think about it too hard. You're not allowed.

He's trying to share this very personal, foundational, soul-deep belief that suffering is good because its part of the plan, whether it be in obeying orders that dont make sense (build the ark while bystanders call you a fool) or enduring extreme conditions (forty days of rain while everyone you know drowns) or the day to day ordeal of wrestling with one's own depravity. It can be joyful! Its good to be chosen! There's a rainbow promise coming at the end! Singing is fun! And Hickey looks at him like he's out of his mind and that's when the shouting starts.

The entire scene is what, less that three minutes? But I could mine it for days. Hats off

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

"Its cold you should take my jacket" with krobus mayhaps? I just think its a cute mental image BVNJ

Maybe theyre goin outside durin winter, and sure shadow people probably arent as effected by the cold but maybe it could still be a sweet gesture (the reader is going to freeze to death mild mistakes were made unless they're just the kinda person to go out in the winter shorts/joke)

-salt anon

YEAH Krobus time <3

Notes: Farmer and Krobus are established as roommates.

................

"The crocus are blooming nicely this winter...oh! Hello, little worms!"

Standing just a few feet away, you kept an eye out for any villager who might be walking around at this late hour, acting like a bodyguard for Krobus.

The last thing you wanted was for someone to freak out at his mere existence on the surface.

Ever since befriending the lonely shadow monster from the sewers, your perspective on his people (as well as most other monsters) changed drastically, opening up your eyes to the truth: that not all of them were violent brutes and assassins armed with crossbows and dark magic.

He was the first peaceful one you've come across, and he became the reason you try to avoid fighting any shadow people in the mines. Even if they became aggressive, you knew they were only acting defensively, never turning hostile unless you approached them first.

Of course, if you saw a human come charging at you with a sword or hammer...you'd be scared for your life, too. And if you had the means to protect yourself, you'd use them.

Krobus was once a fighter himself, until he decided to abandon those ways after the elemental wars, finding displeasure with his life beneath the surface. No longer could he find sanctuary in a place so terribly hot and miserable, fearing that an adventurer or Dwarf assassins will come slay what remained of his people. Thus, he laid down arms and took up becoming a humble merchant, living quietly and waiting patiently.

What he was exactly waiting for...he didn't know at the time.

But after you somehow found his little shop, checked on him after a fight with one such Dwarf, and presented him with the void ghost pendant....he finally realized what he wanted all along.

Companionship.

Something that he didn't expect to find in a human, of all creatures.

Yet on that fateful day, things changed for him yet again.

They were bigger, better, and the type of change that he needed for so long.

He never thought you'd like him as a housemate. After all, his existence alone was frightening to humans. He thought his wares would creep you out, or his strange habit of eating all the houseflies. He thought he'd be a burden on days where he wanted to help around your farm, but the humidity wasn't quite right and the air was a tad bit too dry for his skin. And he was convinced that touching your chickens and slimes would infect them with void energy and "ruin" Yoba's image of them.

There was even a time when he stood in front of your grandpa's shrine the night he moved in, asking aloud if he'd approve of this "living arrangement".

A year later, you two were still happily together, on the eve of the Winter Star festival, searching for the perfect crocus to put into his room's garden pot.

How he managed to order that online on your farm computer was beyond you..although he did mention Dwarf lending him a manual on how to operate such a device.

It seems they were finally willing to put the past behind them, albeit at no point did they ever mention fully forgiving each other, which was understandable.

"May I?" Bringing out the hoe, you looked to Krobus, who nodded and quietly shuffled away from the worms. You scraped the ground with your tool, unearthing-

"Another creepy doll, great.." You picked up the dirty, snow-covered toy. Its blue shirt and brown pants had only a few tiny tears in them, and the beady black eyes were seemingly staring into your soul. "Why do the people in this town leave these everywhere? Is it some ritual for them to be buried around the valley and found years later?"

"Hmm..I couldn't tell you." The shadow monster chuckled a little. "But they do bear resemblance to the dolls Dwarves have made for their children. Maybe they'd appreciate it as a gift......or it may be a grim reminder of what they've lost in the war..." His curl drooped a little.

"I gave them a green doll once, and they liked it. So it could be a good gift." You placed the doll in your bag, before turning back to Krobus. "Speaking of which...we could try attending the feast together. You could come in your usual disguise and-"

"I can't."

"......"

"Sorry, that sounded harsher than I intended." He meekly spoke, looking down at the snowy ground. "But going to the movies with you was nerve-wracking enough. Some of your friends were there..watching me, wondering who I was. To attend a festival with all of their eyes on us...I...I'm just afraid. If the guild master spotted me.....oh, Yoba."

Unwilling to finish, Krobus shuddered and hugged his body self-consciously. But at that same moment, the wind picked up, making him shiver a little bit more.

It made you frown, wishing he didn't look so distressed...and cold.

Poor thing.

Then an idea sprung on you, and you realized you could solve one of those problems right now.

He heard rustling and looked up, confused as to why you were shrugging off your jacket. "Huh? Why are you shedding....?"

"It's cold, you should take my jacket." Smiling, you wrapped it around his shoulders, seeing that it didn't totally envelop his body like his trenchcoat disguise did.

Almost right away Krobus picked up familiar scents on it: horseradish and pumpkin. Two of his favorite things.

Despite the smells being pleasant, he was absolutely bewildered by your kind gesture--and it turned into grave concern as he noticed the goosebumps already forming on your arms and legs. "[Y/n], my people are used to temperatures of either extreme. But yours aren't..are you sure you don't need-?"

"Krobus, I think we can both agree that I'm not like most of "my people."" You laughed gently, shaking your head. "I've worked outside on the hottest summer days and the coldest winter nights. I've been inside the ice castle of the mines and at the top of the volcano dungeon. This cold doesn't bother me anymore. I'm wearing shorts for Yoba's sake. I'll survive without my jacket for a few minutes as long as it helps you feel better. Is it...helping you?"

"...as a matter of fact, this does help. Thank you, my friend." He smiled back, feeling more at ease knowing you weren't gonna freeze to death at his expense. "I'll admit that the warm sewers have made me less accustomed to the chill of winter, but when it comes around..I try to sneak outside as often as I can."

"Maybe one day, you won't have to sneak around anymore, and everyone here can see you've been a great roommate of mine." Patting his head with your gloved hand, you chuckled as he perked up. "And...hopefully our blacksmith can stop asking me to beat up your skeleton friends. I'm starting to think he's running into them on purpose."

"It sickens me how many times I've seen that advertisement." He scowled. "The Skeletons don't make the mines dangerous...it's their home! They just want to be left in peace, with the riches they've guarded in life and now guard in death." Then he relaxed his shoulders, looking to you. "Thank you for not accepting anymore of his contracts."

"Of course, but..what about the wizard's contracts? I had to put some Ghosts to rest because he claims they're "upsetting the balance of the elements". I know they must be your friends, too."

"That's different..if an overabundance of creatures threaten to upset the elements, then they should be taken care of." Krobus nodded, still looking rather grim. "It's unpleasant, but necessary to ensure one species doesn't dominate the rest. Killing monsters so it's "safer" to strip the mines for gold and gems...is not necessary."

"I see." You nodded, looking around and spotting a nearby holly on the ground. Picking it up, you smiled and showed it to him, hoping to lighten the mood. "Another human tradition during this season involves holly. We hang it above our doorsteps, and whoever is under it should kiss. But...I don't think people in this town are familiar with it."

"Ah, how fascinating..." He looked at the plant in your hands, watching you stow it away into your backpack. "I never knew so much about humans until you came along, [y/n]."

"There's a lot to us. We're a..very complex species." You shrugged, before checking the time and realizing it was almost midnight. "Shoot. We should head back soon. I still gotta find something for my secret gift-giver."

"Maybe I can help you." He offered. "It's the least I could do, since I sadly cannot attend."

"I would enjoy it more if you could come, but I'll bring you back some pumpkin pie. And maybe we could...do our own little secret gift-giving?"

"That would be wonderful." Krobus beamed, feeling you wrap your hand around his clawed one, huddling close as you both headed back to the farmhouse..

Your home, which was now his home as well.

He thanked Yoba everyday that he got to share it with you.

[mur4sak1]

What might be the Pokemon of the elves of the silmarillion? (part 1)

The arts are not mine, the credit goes to the artists.

A/N: Hello! I know it’s a very stupid idea but with the end of "Epic: The Musical" all the people started to edit with their favourite pokemon and I immediately thought: "hey, why has no one ever thought about what could be the adventure companions of some of our beloved elves?" (Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3)

Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Rog, Galdor, Caranthir, Fingon

Maedhros: Arcanine

“Arcanine are highly prized Pokémon, admired by many for their beauty and regal nature. Arcanine has been seen storing food (such as Pecha Berries) in the voluminous fur of its mane, and then feeding it to the baby Growlithes when they return to their nest.” I’ll be honest, I don’t see Charizard as a suitable Pokémon for Maaedhros at all. Maybe it would be before Angband when his whole life was centered around fighting and building his character, but after the torture, oh boy, he just needs love. So, why not a giant dog to heal him and distract him from his duties? Then just imagine how it would heal his soul to see him play with Elrond and Elros and feed them berries as if they were his puppies… and yes, those two twins would really be his children in the eyes of the red-haired elf.

Maglor: Lapras

The pokedex describes Lapras as “a social Pokémon that crosses the sea on the surface in large schools and goes into the depths of the sea only when it is looking for food. They are very docile and do not like to fight; they are currently very rare in nature. Their song is known in all the oceans. They are very intelligent and understand human language.” In short, it is literally perfect for Maglor. We all know how he left his land and his mother to protect his brothers from the violent ambitions of his father (I talked about it better in the specific part of Maglor that you can find here), crossing the entire ocean and reaching a completely unknown land. When necessary, however, he did not hesitate to show his hardest and most aggressive side, exactly like the Pokémon in the moments in which he had to venture into the depths of the sea and face all the dangers that it possessed. It is extremely sensitive and humble as an elf, a type of kindness and empathy extremely rare in Tolkien's world. Also, as we all know, Maglor’s distinctive element was his love for music and singing, just like Lapras. Singing melodies was a way for him to unload his responsibilities and frustrations without fear of weighing on anyone. It was also his way of communicating when the words of his language were no longer enough to express the pain he felt. I am sure that seeing so much of himself in a Pokémon would give him an unparalleled relief.

Celegorm: Luxray

“Luxray are extremely fierce predators, but if trained properly, they can become very loyal and faithful enough to protect their Trainer in times of danger. However, if Luxray is overused, it can become antagonistic and vengeful towards its Trainer. Luxray require a lot of pity and praise to feel satisfied, as they are highly proud creatures.” While Celegorm's selfish and proud nature is a perfect fit for a Pokémon like Toxtricity (Low Forme), I believe it would be able to form an even deeper bond with a Luxray. Celegorm seeks loyalty, respect and courage in those around it, and in a Luxray, it would see a partner who shares these same values. Such a bond would be based on a mutual give and take, with shared affection and understanding. Together, they would grow and learn, sometimes making mistakes, but never judging each other for not being perfect. In the end, however, Luxray would reveal himself to be Huan's alter-ego in a new form: he would remain at Celegorm's side, even in death, but would not hesitate to turn his back on him if his actions starts to go against his moral principles. In this way, Luxray would not only be a companion in battle, but also a reflection of the certainties that Celegorm seeks so much, but which, like any loyalty, must be earned and respected.

Rog: Bastiodon

“Despite his aggressive appearance, Bastiodon has a shy and caring nature. Bastiodon will do anything to protect the little ones in the pack.” Don’t ask me why, but in my head their first meeting went something like this: they meet, a little Shieldon without a family sees him, Rog looks him up and down, the pokemon starts to follow him, Rog turns around, tells him to go away, continues walking on his way, but then turns around and finds him still behind. PLEASE THEY ARE PERFECT TOGETHER! Rog is cold, distrustful and lonely, his Bastiodon is shy and clingy. Rog needs to feel useful to someone, Bastiodon needs love and a home. They would work in the dark of the forges together every moment and when the elf started looking for a tool he needed, he would turn around and find it in the mouth of little Bastion, ready to be useful with a smile on his face. Needless to say, they would protect each other's lives.

Galdor: Torterra

“Torterra is a Pokémon that tends to be non-violent. It is calm and patient, and will not be upset even if a Pokémon nests on its back.” Torterra is a solid and powerful Pokémon that represents the strength of the earth and nature. It has a massive and serious appearance, with a figure that suggests resistance and stability. If Galdor needed a partner that symbolizes his determination and commitment to protecting others, Torterra would be an excellent choice. It is also an extremely peaceful and altruistic Pokémon. The Torterra shell is an ecosystem in itself, and often many small Pokémon build a nest on it and remain there for their entire lives, without incurring any anger from the host. “Interestingly, the shell is built in such a way that it can absorb any impacts, so even during battles, the Pokémon that live on them do not suffer any damage.” And then, come on, it has a tree on its shell! I can already imagine Galdor naming his house after his Pokémon.

Caranthir: Marowak

“After evolving, Marowak has overcome the pain it felt in the Cubone state of never seeing its mother. Its behavior has become ferocious and wild.” I honestly don't think I need to add anything else, the description speaks for itself.

Fingon: Lucario

“Lucario are considered proud creatures and are extremely loyal to their Trainer. Lucario also seem to have an innate sense of justice, and given their ability to read the thoughts and emotions of others, they only trust those who have a strong sense of justice.” In short, if we were to only consider these characteristics, Lucario would entrust its very life to Fingon. The relationship between the two would not only be that of allies, but of true soul mates. Lucario, thanks to its ability to perceive and understand the aura of people, would recognize in Fingon the sincerity of his intentions and his refusal to bend to fear or hatred. The elf's persevering and altruistic character is known to all, qualities that would offer him the opportunity to bond with one of the few Pokémon in all of Arda that refused human contact. Fingon, on the other hand, would appreciate Lucario's sense of unwavering loyalty and balance between strength and wisdom. He would see Lucario not only as an ally in battle, but as a companion with whom he could share his mission of building bridges between divided peoples, just as he had tried to do with the sons of Fëanor and the rest of his people. They would be each other’s guides.

[istoleyoursk1n]

I'm obsessed with Spider-Man so bare with me here.

Imagine the reader being a human who experiments with potions and genetics, sort of like a magic user scientist. And one day they had an accident that fused them with Spider DNA, so they have the web crawling stickiness, the advanced healing and strength, and biological web shooters like Raimi Spidey, all the Spider-Man abilities. They can't replicate the experiment, so they can't find a cure and are sort of stuck all spidery.

Whether or not the companions knew the reader, and which companions you wanna write for, before the experiment I guess is up to you? Whichever would be easier is whatever I'm okay with!

This sounds dumb- 😭 but it's perfectly alr if you don't want to do this!

- 💞 anon

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Tav with spider-like abilities?

(Hello again 💞 anon <3)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Didn’t think our lovely little entourage would have an itsy bitsy spider crawling about. I’d rather not find myself webbed if we’re truly keeping you.”

He would have mixed feelings about your little situation at first. On one hand, he finds it fascinating that you possess such abilities but the other part of him finds it disgusting.

Even so, he ends up liking your spiderness anyway, there's amusement he can find in this form of yours that’ll allow him to disregard his disgust for now.

Was probably startled when he first saw you crawling across walls and ceilings. (He screamed and scolded you to cover up the fact that he nearly had a heart attack.)

He may or may not be slightly envious of the fact that you can so easily string your way across surface-to-surface without so much as breaking a sweat.

Though he would be lying if he didn't find it all the more impressive to witness. It's not every day he comes across a web shooting, ceiling crawling, possibly venomous aquantince.

Speaking of venomous, are you? If so, he'd rather never feel the sting of your bite. He’d prefer being the only one who gets the biting privileges.

Nevertheless, he’s grown to adore his spidery friend, especially when he watches you weave little cobwebs into various shapes and pictures. It's his favorite thing about your form.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“A… spider? Spider-human? Apologies, I’m not quite sure what you are but the pleasure is all mine. Perhaps having a rather insectoid companion of our own wouldn’t prove to be such a bad thing.”

He was definitely conflicted at first. He was somewhat of a monster slayer so did you count as one?

But then again, he was traveling with a vampire so perhaps his blade would remain sheathed and away from you for now. Besides, you prove no moral nor physical threat to him just yet.

He managed to put his own apprehensions aside in favor of learning all about you and the various abilities you possess.

He ended up getting all giddy upon seeing you demonstrate all your different abilities. It was amazing in his eyes, something he'd never quite seen before and it made him all the more compelled to befriend you properly.

You've probably been one of the few things that placed his initial beliefs about monster-like individuals aside. Not all of them are as bad as he thought now that he’s seen you.

And ever since his hellish transformation, it seems both of you have gotten yourself in some unfortunate transmutational accident. It's comforting to know that at least you understand what he's going through.

He loves fighting alongside you! Getting to see your powers put to use is an incredible sight. He feels honored to be doing so.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Glad to see I’m not too only one who may have dabbled in the wrong types of magic mishaps. Though, I’m sure being a tad bit more… spidery, than most has its own interesting perks.”

The most interested and confused of the bunch.

He’s off questioning how these spider-like abilities and if some sort of magic was involved in the process.

What potions did you mix together? Did you use a scroll? Perhaps you consumed something that caused the l transformation? Do you need it reversed? These are probably but a handful of questions he immediately voices out.

He truly does hope the entire transformation didn't hurt as much as suspected it would. That would be quite unfortunate wouldn't it?

Nevertheless, everything about your abilities is absolutely fascinating to him. Perhaps having a spidery companion could be quite intimidating but it does have its pros.

Both of you spin weaves in your own ways so there's that adorable little detail.

Though he has tried helping you reverse the effects of your situation, nothing he’s tried has done anything to get you back to normal. He was a little bit upset over the fact that he may have disappointed you but a little reassurance from you would put him back together.

Even so, he's already grown quite fond of your spidery self, and as long as you’re okay with it, he’d continue to adore it for days to come.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fuck yeah! A goddman half spider?! Just when I thought this group couldn't be any less cooler. Say, how's it like being all spidery?”

Freaked the fuck out (lovingly) when she first saw your abilities. You’re the coolest thing she's seen in a while and she can't help but be utterly amazed by you.

You can climb walls too?! Heck, she’d kill to have an ability like that. She loves watching you scurry around walls and roofs like it's no big deal, she even tried to catch you at some point like a little game.

There are so many things about you she's currently fawning over that it's almost overwhelming. She’d be jumping about in delight the moment you use your web shooters to easily latch onto a nearby tree.

You two have probably gone around chasing one another for fun with the use of your own special powers, it's turned into some sort of playful little distraction when the journey gets too rough.

And to think your spidery strength nearly matches her own? You’re practically perfect in her eyes, a companion she's only dreamed of having.

She's spent lots of time wistfully staring as you weave tiny little webs for your own amusement, even making one in the shape of a star to impress your fiery friend. She loves it all the same.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“Well, I suppose I was never against having a spider join our strange little group. I’ll let you know if I ever need you to clamber onto a wall or two.”

As long as you use such spidery powers for the betterment of the group then she has zero qualms about you.

There's something rather amusing about watching you crawl across walls and whatnot, a strange ability she hasn't quite seen anyone but you possess.

Would remind you that there's zero shame in having powers such as yours, she’ll be the one to reassure you that you’re unique in your own interesting little way.

As long as the venom you have in your system is used against your foes, she isn't all too intimidated by your presence.

Generally only has neutral feelings about this strange form of yours, she’d even find some of your little spidery aspects adorable in her eyes.

There have been occasions when seeing you startle a friend or foe with your crawling abilities made her giggle but she has never once shamed you for it.

She could spend hours simply watching you weave tiny little webs, she encourages you to decorate the camp with them if the others don't mind the extra cobwebs of course.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk, spider or not, just make sure your insectoid abilities are put to something more useful than weaving fragile little webs lest you find yourself being yet another pest.”

She didn't care much for your abilities, as long as they proved to be useful to her which fortunately they were.

Your little alchemical mistake seemed to prove to be advantageous in the long run as you were able to help her in a handful of battles.

Your web strings proved to be a resource for her (somehow she found a way to innovate such a thing) as she would often use them as a better bowstring.

Soon enough, her disregard for you turned into admiration, one that she didn't hesitate to tell you directly.

Though her admiration was a tad bit bold, it was something you were certainly flattered by. At least she isn't as unknowingly offensive as before.

If you were willing enough to lend your assistance, she would have used your venom as a coating for her blades by now. Using such a deadly substance to easily smite her foes.

Your increase in strength rivals her own, one that sparks a vibrant flame in her roughened heart. She favors the moments when she gets to witness you in the midst of combat.

Safe to say she enjoys your company and values your worth. Don't ever feel shame for possessing such a spidery form because it's certainly something she’s fond of.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“A spider? Well isn't that quite the surprise? Of all the tiny spiders I've encountered, I’ve never quite seen one as undeniably remarkable as you.”

No matter the creature, he’d always come to value them, and that includes you!

You’ll never feel ashamed of yourself against with this man constantly praising you for what you are, spider-like abilities and all.

If you ever decide to use your powers to crawl atop him, he’d adore it. In fact, he’d laugh as you do so in the softest chuckle you've ever heard him let out. He’d allow you to stay there for as long as you please, he truly doesn't mind.

Seeing you so easily get from tree to tree is quite an impressive sight, silvanus knows he isn't quite as nimble or as graceful as you. This only gives him more of a reason to admire you more.

Was smitten the moment you showed him how you weave webs.

While he has seen little spiders do so, seeing you turn ordinary cobwebs into beautiful shapes melted his heart.

Show him a web you've made in the shape of a bear and you’d make his entire day. His only wish is for this little web of yours to forever be preserved for years to come. He simply can't get over how adorable it is.

In truth, you are a magnificent creature in his eyes, one he finds himself fawning over from afar. Words couldn't express how special you are to him.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[woman-respecter]

nah, can i say that appreciate ur opinion on mouthwashing? bcuz i have the exact same problem with the fandom and it gives me an ick. i only watched a play through (shoutout to cory kenshin) of the game, but the storytelling is quite surface level. its basically an unreliable narrators and while i do enjoy those type of stories, mouthwashing feels like a game for ppl just discovering complex storytelling and the ppl hailing it as some devastating critique of workplace capitalism makes me wonder if they interacted with any type of media.

i do love that its an indie game and the more popularity indie games get, more ppl would gravitate towards it compared to the bigger gaming studios. concerning the fandom, i do find them annoying. its one of my issues with fandoms where there are interesting female characters front and center or the story is very deep/compelling to discuss about, but fans twist it into shipping two men together and blorbifying the basic white dude. i swear the ship between the rapist and the captain only exists bcuz fans wanted to ship two dude together for the sake of it as the two characters don’t have much chemistry together. plus the blorbifying a rapist is just ugh when he gets the most attention and the other characters are ignored.

even more annoying when its done by female fans and i feel like a lot of them have internalized misogyny when it comes to how they approach female characters. bringing up another show, arcane, i also hate how its one of the few shows out there with well written female characters and the most famous ship is between two white dudes who are secondary characters at best compared to the one canon lesbian ship (caitvi) that exists right there. yet when u bring up that double standard, its either fans be like “well hollywood doesnt write good female characters, if they did maybe we would give more attention to them” or i have seen a lot by fanfic writers, “im a woman not comfortable writing female sexuality bcuz its gross and objectifying to me.”

which for the first excuse, goes out the window when there are shows/movies/games/books that tumblr would stereotypically like, but theres barely any publicity for it and fans also put extra effort to ship a male character that has 2 scenes with a more prominent male character simply bcuz they made eye contact 4 seconds longer than usual in one scene. for the second excuse, i can kind of understand, but it sounds misogynistic to describe female sexuality as something dirty naturally and considering the type of ship dynamic tumblr loves (bottom/top), they basically have code that dynamic in a heteronormative sense where one man is the “feminine” one and the other is the more “masculine/dominate” one, its also hypocritical with the objectification excuse.

thank u for this! was hoping to hear from someone who played the game or watched a playthrough. and holy shit your experience is worse than mine with the fandom. i could have never imagined they stooped as low as to ship the RAPIST with the ship captain. ugh gross.

i really do hate tumblr’s tendency to ignore interesting narratives or female characters in favor of the yaoi. like i’m all in favor of fujoing out and i will admit to reducing a “horrors of war” videogame series to my little buffet of yaois but you’ve gotta do it in moderation. arcane is a perfect example bc those lesbians were actually canon and yet the girls on tumblr are obsessing over the two yaoi boys.

i sometimes understand the appeal of yaoi as something completely divorced from the male gaze and the trappings of heteropatriarchal relationships, but i really think the main reason women enjoy it is not that deep. it’s bc they center men and, mostly, they think it’s cute/hot. like 90% the latter. and it’s silly when people try to make up reasons beyond that. the “well i don’t like female characters bc they are poorly written” argument is the one that holds the least water tho, considering the guys they will make their blorbos.

[jungkoode]

If we’re only 20% through fuck me up, you’re dragging the story out way too long. Like this bracelet chapter was a little boring and not necessarily needed. Sure it’s nice to see them getting closer, but you could’ve glossed over this stuff instead of writing 10k on it

Hi! So.

I want to address this kindly, but also firmly—because this message is genuinely insulting to me as a writer. You’re entitled to your opinion, of course, but let me be absolutely clear: I don’t write stories that are meant to be skimmed for plot points and highlight reels. Fuck Me Up is character-driven, psychologically layered, and intentionally paced. If you find something like the bracelet chapter “boring,” what that tells me is that you’ve done zero processing of what’s actually happening beneath the surface.

Because that chapter? That “boring” chapter? Is everything. It’s vulnerability in real time. It’s about Jungkook softening. It’s about Phoenix letting her guard down in a subtle, controlled way. It’s about agency and boundaries and safe space creation and childhood memory and emotional contrast. It’s a shift in tempo. It’s a trust fall. And if all you saw was two people threading beads and bantering, then respectfully—you’re not the audience. And that’s okay. But then you shouldn’t be here.

You’re the type of reader who sees dialogue and doesn’t read tone. Who sees action and misses implication. Who consumes content but doesn’t digest it. And that’s fine, for other stories. But mine are not meant for that kind of reading. I have said this in my FAQ. I’m very upfront about what kind of work I write and what it requires of you.

Every scene I include is intentional. If you didn’t “need” this chapter, that doesn’t mean it didn’t belong. It means you didn’t understand its function. And I’m not going to compromise my pacing, characterization, or thematic development to cater to people who refuse to engage with the material.

And just to be very clear: “dragging it out” is such a shallow take when the entire premise of this story is watching two people evolve over time. Not glossing over it. Not skipping the emotional foundation to jump into a relationship. The whole point of Fuck Me Up is that you get to see them unravel and rebuild bit by bit. That’s the difference between writing porn and writing psychology. I’m doing the latter.

So if that’s too slow for you, or if you need constant external action to feel entertained—genuinely, no hard feelings, but this isn’t the fic for you. You can leave. I’d actually encourage you to.

But if you’re going to stay and criticize, at least have the respect to analyze what you’re reading first. Otherwise, you’re just broadcasting your own lack of depth. And again: that tells me everything I need to know.

Bye! 💞

[sillyvampireboi]

Why are you tormenting my kitchen??

~AO3~

Summary: Armand is fascinated by blenders. Who knew that there were many different types with different functions? Do they only blend liquid or flesh too? He must experiment.. to Daniel’s demise.

Contents: pov Armand, romantic, fluff, attempt at humour, armandaniel, Armand being Armand, blood, gore, not beta read, description of cutting someone up ^^’ 

a/n: I feel like Armand is like a little child, regarding discovering new technologies and finding joy in trying them out. | I wrote it totally self-indulgently. I have that urge in me to see Armand destroy Daniel’s (blender at first) kitchen 👁️v👁️

tagging: @okaytosave

~ English is my second language ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So Daniel, you grew up and lived in this era, which one is the best?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” 

“Well, I suppose you used these machines before.” 

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I compared all brands in the world. “ — chuckled my fascinating boy. — “But buy that one. It’s the most expensive.” 

We were standing in the Aisle of Blenders in Media Markt. Recently, I became spellbinded by this store. It showcasted the best and most popular technology on the market during those years. My love laughed at me many times, when waking at night and not finding me at our home, discovered me studying iPads in that store for hours to no end. How fastly changeable technology became! It felt like there were new updates to my iPad every month, new features were added which became more colourful, more easy to use and were more apps to choose from. Sims and Minecraft became my favorites to spend my time on. I created our own avatars, mine and Daniel’s, in Sims where we lived happily as a married couple. I even found a kitten, when I told Daniel about it, he simply asked me to make him a successful writer and ‘WooHoo’ him every night. He didn’t tell me what that meant. I need to check its meaning in the near future. 

However, back to me and Daniel looking at blenders: When I got used to the innovations phones and tablets offered, I found my new interest stirred in kitchen items. I have to admit, I abandoned my interest in kitchen utensils. They remained more or less similar for hundreds upon hundreds of years, so I let my curiosity wander to other directions. Then sweet Daniel stepped into the timeless night of my life, introducing me to feelings I’ve been absent from, besides human contraptions I didn’t pay attention to. Such innovation was this engaging appliance called Blender. 

As far as I understand, it can mix liquids and soft objects such as fruits and vegetables together. Mortals use these devices to create ‘smoothes’ and other drinks Daniel told me about. Sadly, they can’t break bones or other hard surfaces into tiny pieces. Believe me I tried, that was the reason me and Daniel were shopping for a new one.

“Are you still angry at me, love?” — I temporarily turned from the shelf to look at Daniel. He sighed deep, feeling frustration omitting from him rather than anger. 

“No. But I’m getting a little vexed since you keep tormenting my kitchen.”

“I’m only experimenting my beloved.” 

“Yeah, right” — The innocent voice I used had a nearly immediate effect on him. His eyes softened, and the aurora around him became a lovely pink coloured mess.  — “Just buy more, so we don’t have to come here every night, hm?” 

“Everything for you dear!” 

“Sure, don’t have to be in my ass. Just choose 3 and let us go already.” 

The night was hot and breathless, attacking our senses constantly with the noise of the beeping city. The streets were nearly as light as during the day in this new century, illuminated by hundreds of lamps, advertisements and closed shop windows. 

As I was walking beside Daniel, carrying my “newly doomed Blenders” - as he tells me - in their boxes, I thought back on the previous night. 

I was in the kitchen, while my beloved was still in our bedchamber. The sun just started leisurely sinking lower and lower on the darkening sky, painting it with pink and purple and then blue at last. While the shadows began climbing along the lengthy sides of buildings, I set up the kitchen. 

My love already had a Blender in his home, which I borrowed for my investigation. I prepared a victim for the night: a young, muscular boy. Barely scraping the threshold of twenty, full of life and strength, his young face shining with his youthful years I’ll be draining out of him. 

“Rest.” 

My voice covered him gently from his curly head, till his long legs. He truly was a beautiful boy, one I’ve seen centuries ago in the palace of my Master. His muscles and mind relaxed, regardless of his integral struggle for life, while I opened up his wrist and let his warm blood fill several cups, I organised in the kitchen. I let his blood flow until his heart began to slow, losing his hopeless battle against his fate, until it fully stopped. 

First, I poured one cup of his blood into the Blender, and turned on the machine. It began to buzz and whirl. It moved the blood around in circles, creating light bubbles in contrast to the shadowless. 

It passed the first test. After emptying its container I added another cup of blood into it, then turned back to the body of the boy. With a knife in my hand, I let my gaze travel over his lifeless shell. His pink flesh lost colour and turned to gray, and his eyes which were filled with fearful tears a few minutes ago, now stared blankly at the ceiling. I let him free of his thin shirt, and opened up his delicate skin. 

I put slim pieces of his muscles in the blood at first, then steadily increased the amount. The Blender succeeded these challenges, cutting the meat into smaller and smaller parts, until it became a bloody meat ‘smoothie’. I poured it into a new cup and started again. 

At this time, I used his heart, lungs and a part of his brain in one session, mixing it with more blood. The machine seemingly struggled quite a bit, but mixed them nonetheless. It wasn’t as perfect as the previous one, but still liquid-y. 

I continued experimenting with his other organs, the Blender struggling more and more, until it reached its breaking point. 

It was bones that broke this interesting innovation.

I began with his blood again, and continued with adding tiny parts from his limb bones - which I smashed with my hands -, until I carried on with bigger bones: fingers, toes, and collar bones. However, as I added a forearm, it couldn’t pierce through the stone-hard surface of the white parts and its scales stopped while the motor still ran. I watched with wild wonder, while the buzzing got pregnant with panic, until it stopped with a sudden bang. The remains of the meat, blood and bones flew up in the air, and blanketed me and the kitchen furniture with a nasty, sloppy sound. 

Oh no - I thought - I broke Daniel’s Blender, there is still time to buy him a new one. He isn’t using it anymore, so he won’t notice and then I clean— 

“What the fuck has happened here?” — My beloved was standing at the door of our bedroom, arms crossed in front of his chest, sleep still heavy in his eyes. His gaze naturally traveled to me first, next on the body of the cut up form of my victim, until at last, traveled over the rain of dark red, thick wetness on the walls and ceiling. 

“Daniel, I can expl—“

“What is this? Why are you tormenting my kitchen?!” 

“I merely wanted to experiment dear. You showed me a lot about new technologies and the one that interested me the most was this apparatus called Blender! It moves and has knife-like edges inside and mixes substances! My beloved, you must understand I had to try! And what fascinating discoveries I made.” 

Daniel stood there completely spellbounded, staring at me in the grotesque scene I created. For a long time he said nothing, until I saw the slight smile in the light of his eyes, which meant he wasn’t angry at all even though he tried to appear to be. A deep sigh which he didn’t need anymore, escaped his lungs while he roamed his gaze over me and our kitchen again. 

“Alright, this is what we are going to do. First you clean this whole mess and then YOU buy a new blender. And I’m going to ask for a fucking expensive one, you can be sure of that.” 

I couldn’t help, but giggle at his mocked fury, that imitation of frustration he forced on his lovely face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment we arrived home, I organised our new Blenders in the cabinets, taking out plates and glasses, just to put them back and find a new place for them. Daniel was enjoying my structuring skills with an open delight, from the dining table. 

After I was done, I walked to him, sly as a cat, sitting on his lap and putting my arms around his neck.

“What?” 

“Will you show me how to order from Amazon?” 

“Why? “ — he eyed me with suspicion. 

“I want to order a robotic eater!” 

“Robotic eater? You mean a robot vacuum?” 

“Yes! Please Daniel, I have to see if it really eats everything and moves around furniture.” 

“God. What did I sign up for?” 

My soft laugh disguised us from the outside world, leaving us in a light pink bubble. 

[darkchocolatedimples]

the tortured poets department (sponsored by my procrastination)

excuse my essays for each song the lyrics are so interesting to me so there’s like actual analyzation for each one.

fortnight - dex

that lingering resentment disguised by surface level friendship is that not literally him and sophie come on. “run into you sometimes, ask about the weather” the awkwardness!! “your wife waters flowers, i want to kill her” he was the #1 fitz hater for multiple reasons after all (although i think he was over it by the time keefe became prominent)

the tortured poets department - sophie

this is so keefe from her perspective come on “you’re in self sabatoge mode, throwing spikes down the road, but i’ve seen this episode and still love the show” “i chose this cyclone with you” “sometimes i wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me. but you told [biana] that you’d kill yourself if i ever leave. and i had said that to [dex] about you so i felt seen. everyone we know understands why we’re meant to be.” also let’s be so real keefes drawing journals + goodbye letters, he’s giving tortured poet

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - fitz

guys he’s just a silly little boy with anger issues, and he’s MY silly little boy with anger issues stop hating him 😞 “the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild” “he saw forever so he smashed it up” he may have fucked up but it happens!!

down bad - dex

CUZ FUCK IT HE WAS IN LOVE!!! also if i may present to you: “i might just die it would make no difference” in the context that outside of sophie saw no purpose to his own life. he saw himself just as he is presented in the books: as her best friend and nothing more. so in losing that (blaming himself and his own feelings for it) what was left of him? who was left? sophie was also his ONLY friend. not to mention in the context of the fact that when he WAS presumed dead nobody cared, they still cared more about sophie.

so long, london - keefe

no not bc of london actually but because “and you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment” is actually a direct reference to keefitz’ friendship falling apart as fitz got angrier and keefe got more closed off. “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” “im just mad as hell cause i loved this place” me when everglen is no longer keefes safehaven. nor anyone’s for that matter bc its haunted by alvars betrayal and alden’s mind break and fitz’ anger.

but daddy i love him - biana

“i just learned these people only raise you to cage you” “i just learned these people try and save you…cause they hate you” “dutiful daughter all my plans were laid…growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.” i hate alden vacker. how do u manage to use and fuck up all ur kids by age 12 like wow. “i’ll tell you something about my good name: it’s mine alone to disgrace” she would 100% say this. she would also 100% say “im having his baby! no im not but you should see your faces.”

fresh out the slammer - keefe

sokeefe or keefitz take it as it comes. “in the shade of how he was feeling.” “as i said in my letters.” “my friends try, but i wouldn’t hear it…for just one glimpse of his smile” “swirled you into all of my poems” it’s so him it is truly.

florida!!! - keefe

THIS one’s about london! “well me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time! yes i’m haunted but im feeling just fine” ethan and eleanor wright who?? “your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in” candle shade/shores of solace type beat “i need to forget so take me to [london], i have some regrets i’ll bury them in [london]” “i don’t want to exist so take me to [london]” aw bae

guilty as sin? - dex

i don’t know how to explain but i just feel like this feeling of i shouldn’t be doing/feeling this the literal guilt and all these delusions and the sheer intensity of it all is just giving me dex. “this cage was once just fine, am i allowed to cry? i dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks” “i keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault” this must be the way he loves if he thinks so little of himself and doesn’t let himself have good things. “i choose you and me religiously” because at the end of the day when he makes a decision or chooses something or someone he puts his all into it.

who’s afraid of little old me - sophie

“you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. you caged me then you called me crazy. i am what i am cuz you trained me.” all of it’s literally giving her growing into herself in stellarlune and making decisions on her own. SHE IS NOT A PAWN!!!

i can fix him (no really i can) - tam

idk its just giving him defending rayni with his life when everyone else including linh was like who tf is this girl.

loml - fitz

every sad pining song is fitz vacker to me. esp the refrences to the romance being dead but never buried... "still alive killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried...i'm your holy ghost" the way that sophie switched up on him in stellarlune (although i fully support her) didn't give him much time to recover. "are they second-hand embarrased that i can't get out of bed because something counterfiet's dead" give me heartbroken fitz!!! for once instead of angry fitz just give me tired, resigned fitz. "it was legendary, it was momentary, it was unecessary, should've let it stayed buried" is such a good summary of sophitz imo.

i can do it with a broken heart - linh

linh is so interesting to me as a parallel of fitz: meaning she, just like him, is always angry. however she masks it in smiles and kindness the way he never learned to, he just lashes out. this song feels like it’s talking about that mask: “i’m so depressed i act like it’s my birthday everyday” “i can read your mind ‘she’s having the time of her life’ …i can show you lies” “cause im miserable and nobody even knows” “i can hold my breath, i’ve been doing it since [i] left”

the smallest man who ever lived - keefe

it’s giving a letter to cassius/gisela/alvar. “and i don’t even want you back, i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal. and i don’t miss what we had” “did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?” “in 50 years will all this be declassified and you’ll confess why you did it, and i’ll say ‘good riddance’” “i would’ve died for your sins instead i just died inside. and you deserve prison but you won’t get time” “in plain sight you hid, but you are what you did. and i’ll forget you but i’ll never forgive.”

the alchemy - sophie

“cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?” aw sokeefe.

clara bow - biana

BIANA BEING COMPARED TO HER BROTHERS AND ALL THE VACKERS BEFORE THEM "the crown is stained but you're the real queen" "beauty is a beast that roars, down on all fours, demanding more...its hell on earth to be heavenly" i love her.

the black dog - fitz

bring back petty fitz!! i think the young girl not knowing the starting line could parallel with keefe not being able to understand things about telepathy that really connected fitz and sophie. i also think we could shift the angle and make it about alvars betrayal and how it sparked his angry trauma response. “you said i needed a brave man, then proceeded to play him until i believed it too.” “now i want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes…even if i die screaming, and i hope you hear it.”

imgonnagetyouback - fitz

he is 100% this delusional. he's just like me. "you'll find that you were never not mine" "even if its handcuffed im leaving here with you." "told my friends i hate you but i love you just the same, pick your poison babe, i'm poison either way"

the albatross - keefe

“one bad seed kills the garden. one less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen.” “the devil that you know looks now more like an angel. i’m the life you chose, and all this terrible danger.” HE IS THE ALBATROSS. i can’t wait for the movie i want edits of him to this. ACTUALLY I WANT A LOT OF THINGS maybe I’ll make a separate post about that.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - keefe

you saw it coming. this song SCREAMS KEEFITZ. like- “you said some things that i can’t unabsorb…you needed me but you needed drugs more.” “changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules all to outrun my desertion of you.” “if you want to break my cold cold heart just say ‘i loved you the way that you were’” WHAT THE HECK DUDE IM SOBBING “back to the moment i crashed into you like so many wrecks do” that line solidified this as keefe’s pov for me. in conclusion. SOBBING.

how did it end - biana

i propose to you: not a relationship, but the vacker family falling apart and the way they became a huge subject of gossip in the lost cities. when alden’s mind broke, while fitz had turned to anger biana became depressed, and i think this song could relate to that as well. the whole part of “guess who we ran into at the shops” feels very much like conversations others would have about the vackers at the time and when alvar betrayed them. “soon they’ll go home to their [brothers], smug cause they know they can trust him.” and i think at the end of the day when all of it happened biana was just young and betrayed and lost, because she didn’t see it coming or understand why (who did?) “the deflation of our dreaming, leaving me bereft and reeling” “i can’t pretend like i understand, how did it end?”

so high school - biana

HER VIBES ALL THE WAY she’s so cute and lovely and i want this for her (and dex. specifically dex. not anyone else.)

i hate here - sophie

was leaning dex until “you see i was a debutant in another life but now i seem to be scared of going outside” but the whole idea of escapism applies to both of them. especially to sophie though when she lived with humans and was so alone because even her own family couldn’t understand her, and she canonically is a bookworm and probably found more comfort in those other lives than she ever could in her own. "I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind...i read about it in a book when I was a precious child" "ill get lost on purpose, this place made me feel worthless"

thanK you aIMee - tam

aimee 🤝🏽 the song parents. “everyone knows that my [sister] is a saintly woman. but she used to say she wished that you were dead.” “but when i count the scars there’s a moment of truth: that there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you.” thank you song parents 🫶🏽

i look in people’s windows - fitz

i thought this song sounded so creepy till I actually listened to it and now the idea of like lowkey stalking someone just to see if they still care about you or have moved on is slightly making sense. "does it feel alright to not know me? i'm addicted to the if only." it's giving keefitz (when isn't it?)

the prophecy - dex

"let it once be me, who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?" THIS JUST REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF THE BEGINNING OF STELLARLUNE WHEN HES LITERALLY MOURNING WHAT HASN'T EVEN HAPPENED TO HIS BROTHER YET i need more dex being the oldest sibling and shouldering that burden. the love-hate relationship with his siblings while simultaneously trying to make their quality of life so much better than what he had. also "a lesser woman would've lost hope, a greater woman wouldn't beg" is so him. he is so that middle.

cassandra - tam

"so they killed cassandra first cuz she feared the worst...do you believe me now?" "you can mark my words, i said it first. in a mourning warning, no one heard." tam when keefe joined the neverseen fr

peter - keefe

pls tell me you saw this one coming. "are you still a mindreader? a natural scene stealer, I've heard great things [fitz], but life was always easier on you than it was on me." "promises, oceans deep, but never to keep" "forgive me [fitz], my lost fearless leader...from when we were just kids. is it something I did?" i think I'm just in a constant state of mourning their friendship.

the bolter - keefe

obvious reasons but also "i can confirm she made a curious child, ever reviled by everyone but her own father." "hearts are hers for the breaking, there's escape in escaping." "she's got the best stories, you can be sure, as she was leaving, it feels like freedom."

robin - dex

had to do some research for this one but apparently its talking about preserving a child's innocence! for this reason it reminds me again of dex and his siblings because of the way he really wants to protect them from things that haven't happened yet (especially considering rex being talentless). "way to go tiger" definitely sounds like something he would say to them feeling all sentimental but then, knowing siblings, they'd probably grill him about why he's being nice 💀

the manuscript -

we know the drill by now, fitz gets all the breakup songs because they could be about sophie OR keefe. "afterwords, she only ate kid's cereal, and slept in her mother's bed" while the song is discussing reverting back to childhood habits in vulnerability, fitz's vulnerability made him angry (but it was still a big change from his regular self) "looking back might be the only way to move forward" I hope he does get to move on!!! im tired of the love triangle plot if we're not gonna focus on keefitz' friendship 😭

[branwendaughterofllyr]

Reading your fic a poison tree, my brain got inspired on its own and went and created a half-baked AU where Baelon (Viserys' son) survived instead— but I'll probably never write it because it's just vagueness and a lot of Vibes™.

I really like your Oldgon, his characterization, the cracks forming in the Targ family as seen through Alyssa's eyes (also the cracks in her realizing she can't hold positions of power in her own right because she's a girl), things simmering and simmering beneath the surface (gods, it's gonna boil soon) and!!!! The melancholy!! The haunting!!!! Elinor!!!! Like, she got “fridged” in the technical sense but it doesn't feel like it at all, because her life and her death mattered to Oldgon and Alyssa (even if she's an absence in the latter's life). She's so vibrant and alive and so human in all the snippets we get of her, it's beautiful. I love her to bits and pieces, you understand.

Ehhhh, some nonsense and questions(?) concerning the half-baked brainchild of mine:

My Baelon, I guess, is the epitome of Survivor's Guilt™. He finds out what happened to Aemma and feels horrible about it. If it weren't for him, his mother wouldn't have died. But it was his father who allowed the maester to carve Aemma open, and Baelon finds out somehow, and he's extremely fucking not happy about it.

The relationship between father and son deteriorating? Potentially? Like, Viserys played favorites and doted on Baelon at the expense of all his other children (Rhaenyra also has complicated feelings about her father and brother because oof), Baelon was so loved, and then the boy has this revelation and is horrified by both his existence and his father's repeated choice to make Aemma go through pregnancies and finally her death. I don't think that's a break that can't be repaired.

Maybe it'll manifest outwardly. Baelon might push and question why, why Viserys did what he did. How he could possibly choose to do it. Dunno how Viserys will react to that but I'm guessing Not Well. Maybe this is the Their Relationship Fucking Crumbles route. Maybe Baelon doesn't dare to ask but simmers in silence. Viserys keeps on being blind but Baelon...

Survivor's guilt. He starts to feel like he has to justify himself, justify his existence, make his mother's death “worth it”. If he can't be good, can't be excellent, can't make anybody's life better, then he wasn't worth his mother's death.

Sickly child. Overworks himself.

More of a scholarly type (ngl, parts of Oldgon really influenced this boy, another reason why I won't write this bc it'll end up a rip-off of a poison tree in many regards??? 😭)

(Viserys still marries Alicent bc Gotta Have Backup Heirs In Case The Sickly Prince Drops Dead™, and keeps having kids with her bc he's, uh, Viserys™, with all that entails.)

(I just wanted the Green kids to be born, but shush)

Maybe this makes this OC Baelon a little too perfect, but screw it I'm here to be cringe and have a good time so he “has enough room in his heart to love many people”

So he chooses to love Rhaenyra, even if their relationship might or might not end up really complicated. She loves and resents him in equal measure because he was part of the cause of their mother's death and their father's affection shifted from her onto him instead of being shared equally— but he's also the last remaining fragment of her mother. I don't know how this web of complication will manifest in Rhaenyra and how she interacts with him, but he wants to have a closer relationship with his sister.

Back when Viserys still doted on him (if their relationship eventually crumbles), Baelon felt guilty towards Alicent and her children as well. If he'd been born healthy, if he'd just been better, there would be no need for spares. No children Viserys would sire just to ignore.

It's just nonsense, haha. I haven't thought about the politics, or anything else, if there's to be a ship I actually kinda ship Baelon with Aemond, ridiculous as it sounds? Dunno how that'd work. Dunno how things will turn out. One boy trying to reach out to the people around him again and again and again.

(I wonder what kind of relationship Baelon would have with Oldgon and Alyssa [and Elinor and Jeyne] if there were to be a crossover between the AUs...)

Oh my gosh, what a great message!!! I’m spiritually kissing you on the mouth! I’m so glad you don’t think I fridged Elinor too much, that’s honestly one of the biggest things I’ve wrestled with when it comes to this fic, since one of my first thoughts was about killing her off. I wanted someone to haunt the narrative in every way!

I actually do really hope you write your fic. I fully support more nerdy flop male Targaryens, the world needs more of them! I do think there’s a lot of room to explore the pushes and pulls of westerosi masculinity, especially those who fail in one or more area, and this goes double for heirs and kings who get even more pressure. And Oldgon is far from the only scholarly Targaryen dude, I actually had some of Daeron the Good in mind when I wrote him, since he was a bit of a nerd who dearly loved his wife, so feel free to run with your Baelon. I also don’t feel like it would be much of a ripoff because a big portion of Oldgon’s personality comes from being the third son, the spare spare, and being shipped off to Oldtown fairly young, while this Baelon would be fairly under a microscope as the heir to the throne. Like, I have Oldgon as pretty introverted as a kid, and he really only grows out of his shell as he gets older and has the support of Vaegon and Lorent at the Citadel, and I think Baelon might have the opposite reaction as the eldest son of the king under the scrutiny of the court, especially if he’s a gentle soul like Oldgon, I could see this Baelon becoming even more shy and reticent, if that makes sense?

I actually do think that Viserys probably would have remarried even if Baelon had lived, he married Alicent for fairly personal (and selfish considering it wasn’t a great political) match and didn’t regard her kids as his heirs in canon anyway. And if Baelon is sickly from infancy, it would make sense to try and back him up with more brothers. I think both Rhaenyra and the Green kids would be different in this AU, since Rhaenyra is never made heiress and has less pressure on her overall, and Aegon II is probably as happy as a clam to be the second son who can wander off. Aemond is probably still seething about something even in this AU. Big middle child energy. (The Aemond/Baelon thing actually does sound interesting bc it could be a bit of an inversion of Viserys and Daemon but with waaaay more bitterness. Sexy!) I think the big question would be if Baelon marries Rhaenyra, Helaena, or Laena, since all are pretty strong candidates in their own ways. (If you went with Rhaenyra, even more drama there, but I think Laena could be immensely fun tbh, especially if Viserys decides to let Rhaenyra still have some sort of choice in her husband.)

And on how Oldgon would feel about a nephew that’s a lot like him, I think he’d actually be really happy with that! He loves the nephews he has (obviously, lol) but none of them are really a ton like him. And I think he would relate a lot to Baelon struggling to live up to the pressures of the path set before him. I think Alyssa would alternate between being extremely jealous and extremely fond of Baelon. She’s very jealous of her dad’s attention, and scholarly boy who her dad is thrilled to have around would probably be her worst nightmare, but she would enjoy having another kid around with similar interests that isn’t occasionally engaging in psychological warfare against her. (And bonus points for the shared dead moms!)

So yeah! Thanks so much for the ask!

[strze-lec]

you know what? might as well, have a prompt 😏

G-rated, Trip x T'Pol if you squint, would probably fit somewhere in s2

“Therefore, it would be ill-advised to use the shuttle in the proximity of the ryetalyn source, as the geological composition of the hills surrounding it would cause damage to the pod's sensors,” T'Pol concluded her research report in the senior staff's briefing. She looked away from the monitor showcasing the map of the area.

Captain Archer nodded his understanding. “So what's the safe distance from the deposits for us to land?”

“Approximately 20 kilometers.”

Commander Tucker grimaced slightly. “Quite a walk.”

T'Pol calmly angled her head toward him, giving him a glance before she turned her attention back to the presented map. “A walk, as Commander Tucker had put it, is also out of the question. If not for the inefficiency of this type of travel, the terrain is quite steep and if we can mine the mineral, carrying the required amount back to the shuttle would prove to be additionally inconvenient.”

Trip rolled his eyes across the table. Of course he didn't mean to do half a marathon on each side just to go get the rocks.

“What do you suggest then?” It was Lieutenant Reed who voiced the question, his arms neatly folded behind his back.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow slightly to make a point, moving her gaze across the faces of her fellow crewmen as she spoke, finally setting her eyes on the Chief Engineer. “It would appear that the best solution is to obtain a vehicle, either of a hover construction or wheeled and arrive at the location by this means of transport.”

Suddenly, Commander's face was no longer holding any signs of annoyance – his lips were curled and there was a twinkle in his gaze. “D'ya want me to build ya a car?”

“Not a car specifically, however a vehicle of a similar build, yes.”

“And ya want it done in eight hours we have left to get there?” His inquiry was laced with what she learned to recognize as a type of doubt that carried an undertone of sarcasm.

“That would be most reasonable. This journey is a detour from our previously appointed path, thus getting back to it as soon as we can should be amongst priorities,” then – of course not to spite him, simply to make her concern known – she added, “Is Engineering not equipped to handle such a demand?”

From the corner of her eye she could see Lieutenant Reed and Captain Archer sharing a brief look, perhaps with matching smirks, however since her vision blurred at its edges, she couldn't be sure.

What she could see quite clearly, though, was a squint in Commander Tucker's eyes and his lips brought into a straight line, his gaze measuring. “Oh, Engineerin's good on any demand ya might throw at us. You'll have your vehicle in eight hours on the dot.”

“Thank you,” she replied, unnecessarily in her opinion, but it was a behavior expected on a human vessel.

“But not without a price,” the Chief Engineer added casually, shifting his stance to lean on the wall behind him, his arms rising to settle on his chest.

“Excuse me?” She felt her eyebrow move up considerably, a reaction of a surprise. She noted to find time for meditation before the departure to the planet's surface.

Trip blinked contendly, one side of his lips considerably higher in a grin. “If I'm buildin’ a vehicle from scratch for ya, I'm gonna enjoy ridin’ it too,” he locked his eyes with her, the blue surprisingly bright in the room’s lightning. “Besides, ya gonna need an engineer with ya in case something stops workin’ and I have an extra pair of hands.”

T'Pol saw the focus of the gathering shift back to her, awaiting her response. She needed to fight an urge to crease her forehead in consternation, simultaneously moving meditation higher on her inner list of importance.

“Do you expect your creation to fail?” She challenged him.

“I expect you to break it on purpose just to tell me it broke,” he quipped back, moving his brow in a provoking manner himself.

Before T'Pol had a chance to reply, Captain Archer interjected, apparently amused by the exchange. “That's not a bad idea, Trip. With all the interference down there, who knows what could go wrong. It seems always something does, anyway,” the last part Jonathan murmured off-handedly, but for everyone to hear.

He got a series of nods and even a couple of chuckles in return.

T'Pol didn't share the amusement – partially due to the fact Vulcans did not indulge themselves with such an emotion, and partially, because their missions rarely seemed to be as straightforward as they appeared, indeed. In her personal opinion, Captain Archer should take this deduction into better consideration and draw his conclusions, but she wasn't going to suggest that in front of the staff.

The officers around the table begin to disperse, somewhat naturally sensing the meeting was over and all had been said and done.

Commander Tucker sent her a look she had a hard time deciphering – was it teasing? – and turned around on his heel, most possibly making his way to Engineering right away. She was aware the task she asked of him would not be particularly easy to achieve, however at this point she had no doubt he would find a way to fulfill her request. His ingenuity was one of the features she grew to commend.

“I think I owe you good luck,” came from T'Pol's right.

Captain’s voice brought her focus back to the present. “Captain?”

Jonathan Archer chuckled. “For the journey back and forth.”

This time T'Pol allowed herself to frown. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

The smirk the captain sported grew an ounce. “You will, you just haven't met roadtrip Trip yet.”

“Is he different from Commander Tucker's usual persona?” She questioned, maintaining the illogical style of description the man used.

“Yes and no,” Archer shook his head, his expression good-naturedly sanguine. “He's the Tripest Trip you could Trip to Trip,” he recited as if from memory.

This sentence didn't make any sense. She told him as such.

“It will,” he assured, giving her the last entertained glance before he picked up the PADD he had entered the briefing with and made his departure, leaving her alone.

The interaction left her quite confused. However, one thing was clear – it would be beneficial to ensure she had plenty of time for meditation after the mission as well. Commander Tucker regularly tested her patience, and she doubted that this time would be any different.