First Draft - Blog Posts

Dragon Ball & Sailor Moon Crossover Idea:

*Note that I do not plan on writing this soon, this is a rough draft idea and a bit of a rant.*

Okay so instead of it being were the Sailor Senshi just meet up with Goku & the Z-fighters, what if the story started at the beginning of the Buu Saga where Gohan is in high school? Usagi, Ami, and Makoto would be students at Orange Star High school (Ami and Makoto would be in different classes while Usagi is in the same class as Gohan. Rei would still attend her all-girl school and Minako is an idol). I think for this crossover to work it would need to be a new take on the Sailor Moon property with a few sprinkles of PGSM to better fit the established world of Dragon Ball. Plus it would be cool and a little funny for the Great Saiyaman to team up with Sailor Moon or Sailor V (I think I might intertwine the story of Codename Sailor V with the Great Saiyaman Saga). And to balance the screentime between villains (that’ll happen later down the line) Babidi can try to control some of the Dark Kingdom to revive Buu. But that's just my idea what do you'll think? Feel free to leave comments!

Not Your Hero (an original work of mine)

There are plenty of words a mother could use to describe her son. Dashing, witty, handsome or strong. If someone were to ask Ximena Armstrong, however, only one of her boys would be introduced in such a proud light. If they asked about the other one, they would receive a strained compilation of complaints that he is vile, twisted, or a hateful beast. There are two sides to every story, though. What made a mother turn her back so quickly?

No one has ever gotten close enough to either party to ask for their side. One thing is for certain, Griffin Emiliano is a dangerous man, and Ximena Armstrong is a pathological liar.

Yet on an uneventful day in Betrothal, a group set out to find the answers to all the possible questions anyone could ask. When they find two boys, an anklet and a pile of bodies, there are too many questions to ask and not enough time for the answers before the doors are busted in and everyone is a suspect.

Chapter 1

“I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but if you run any slower, the snails will escape before we do!” A bellowing voice echoes through the halls of the underground chambers. Clambering behind him, a much softer voice rang out. “I’m sorry! This is my first time performing illegal acts, so sorry I can’t keep up with your vigilante lifestyle!” Turning on his heel, Gryffin casts a stone cold glare to his brother. “Don’t forget why we’re in this mess. You thought it would be a good idea to find the anklet, now three guards are dead and the blood is on your hands, kid.” Looking to the floor, Axel shrinks into himself; “I didn’t mean to…” “doesn’t matter the intention. It is the result that everyone will see. Remember that in everything you do.” Before another word was said, a loud crash brings the brothers out of their tension and drives their attention back to the situation at hand. Escaping certain death and bringing the anklet home to their mother, the smartest archeologist in their village. The winding chambers seemed to be getting slimmer and turning into simple tunnels, but with that, the duo noticed that the end of a tunnel was in sight. With reinforcements hot on their trail, Gryffin roars “Ximena will kill us if she finds out people died for that thing.” “Can you just call her mom?” “Not when she won’t call me her son.” “Well maybe if you-” Axel’s voice is cut off with another crash, the barrels in front of them breaking, causing whatever fruits and vegetables to scatter across the floors and stain their shoes more than the mud could. “Not another step, thief. Such a shame that I’ll have to tear such a pretty face to shreds” A masked man with a gentle but firm voice says, backing his words with a sword pointed to Axel’s face. The mask was unsettling at best, sporting a crooked smile with red teeth and white eyes, it’s a wonder the man could see through it. Though unsettling, he was right about Axel’s face. Unlike his brother, his face was pristine and untouched, his pale skin was a perfect target for a sadistic man such as the one in front of him. Questions hung on the tip of the blade as well as the tip of his tongue he realized it was getting closer, but he hadn’t taken a step. “If I can’t take another step, why can you?” “If I can’t take the anklet, why can you?” Comes the quick retort. “Well, technically you could, you just didn’t take that leap that you needed in order to actually grasp it.” With his sharp words and the tension rising, Gryffin grabbed Axel and made a mad dash for the light they witnessed moments earlier. Axel thrashed wildly, kicking the boxes of fruits and vegetables down to make more of a mess for the masked men to clean up later on. “I’m going to drop you if you keep doing that.” He warns with a scowl. “Right, sorry.”

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

There was nothing fancy about the village the boys lived in. Past every market on the left there was an alley that the homeless would find themselves digging through, praying to whoever was out there to spare a little mercy for one more day as they cling onto what little humanity they hold. For the homeless that couldn’t fight their way through, the market’s right side would hold the bodies. It seemed everywhere one turned there was another person riddled by disease and famine. When the people in command were brought to the village to speak their grievances, they were brushed off, laughed at and then given one day’s worth of food for the women and children. Proving that they were simply sitting with another government that couldn't care less for the people under their control, but gave the bare minimum so there were still people able to BE controlled. Griffin hated everything about the village. He could never wrap his head around why so many people still lived in such a ghost town. The people were reduced to nothing more than beggars and thieves with nothing to live for, but had the fight and the iron will of soldiers with the world to lose. Under heavy lids, he drags himself into a makeshift shack, calling it a house for them to stay in as the night ticks by. Axel stared at the ceiling, wondering how long it had been since he saw his brother. His once soft features now hardened with the years of war and murder, tanned skin now scarred and hands calloused. Those green eyes that once shined like stars now cut like emeralds that were thrown to the ground by a child throwing a fit. Black hair that was once short and well taken care of has now grown unkempt and matted. “What is going on in that head of yours?” The man in question growled out. “How old are you now, Grif?” “Twenty three, but you didn’t answer my question. What is the issue?” Axel shakes his head quickly. “I was just wondering what went wrong with us… Why did our family fall apart the way it did? Why did you leave? Why-” Griffin cuts him off swiftly “You ask too many questions, Ax. That will be your downfall.” A deep silence settles across the room after Axel nods “mom says that too.” Griffin lets out a heavy sigh after a while and asks something that he sounds like he has been dreading for a long time. “Where is dad?” Axel stands with a speed like no other and starts for the door. “Ax-” “If you can call that monster our dad but can’t call her our mother then you are no brother of mine.” Confused, angry and a little hurt, Griffin throws the closest object at his younger brother’s feet. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or are you going to let me believe that he was a good man and she was the monster, kid?”

This is the very first design I ever made of Leonarda a while ago, about 8 - 9 months. I never posted it anywhere bc I basically hate myself.

Despite it is an old design, I’d like to finish it along with the rest of the eggs I drew in that time. And of course, I’m thinking on updating the designs too! So much has happened since that time…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

PLEASE! Do not repost my art! Reblogs/retweets are appreciated 💕

Do not use without my permission!

My twt: @BonnietheOni

"I'll come back to edit it in December" no. no I wont. but that doesn't stop me from lying to myself.

Wings!!!

My first big computer-generated art!!!

Ill continue to update as it gets better.

Megatron vs Roomba Part Two

I can't find part one.

---

The Roomba had returned.

Megatron stood in the middle of the living room, glaring down at the small cleaning bot with all the venom he could muster, as if it had personally insulted his ancestors. “You think you can return after I banished you?!”

The Roomba beeped innocently, as though it hadn’t even noticed the warlord’s glare.

Megatron’s optics narrowed, and he reached for his fusion cannon. “This time, you do not escape.”

Optimus leaned casually in the doorway, sipping from a mug labeled World’s #1 Peacekeeper (and Husband) with a relaxed, almost teasing grin. “You’re really going to obliterate a cleaning bot just because it tried to mop behind you?”

“It stalks me,” Megatron growled, stepping forward. “It knows too much.”

Optimus raised an eyebrow.

Megatron’s fists clenched at his sides. “It’s a spy—an agent of sabotage!”

The Roomba made a soft, innocent beeping noise, continuing its roundabout journey.

“Megatron, Soundwave's the one who programmed it to follow your movements,” Optimus said, his voice calm, as though explaining the facts to an impatient child.

“He would never—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Optimus strode forward, stepping quietly behind him. In an instant, he reached out and gave Megatron’s aft a playful squeeze.

Megatron let out a high-pitched, indignant yelp and lurched forward, nearly tripping over the Roomba in the process. “W-WHAT are you—!?”

Optimus’s hand lingered on his back, his voice low and soothing. “Distracting you,” he said calmly, giving Megatron a reassuring squeeze. “You were about to vaporize my cleaning budget.”

The fusion cannon sputtered in Megatron’s hand as he twisted around, trying to focus on Optimus and failing. “That’s... underhanded!”

Optimus flashed a wicked grin. “You didn’t complain last night when I used both hands.”

Megatron’s processor nearly short-circuited at the thought. His spark rate spiked, and his optics flickered. He was no longer sure which task he was supposed to be focusing on. "Y-You—"

But before Megatron could muster a proper response, Optimus slid his other hand down his aft, moving dangerously close to his thighs. The warlord froze, his entire frame seizing up as Optimus’s touch grew bolder.

“Optimus...” Megatron’s voice was barely a whisper, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could focus.

The Roomba, unfazed by the tension in the air, gently bumped into Megatron’s foot again.

Megatron, red-faced, took an unsteady step back, but Optimus followed him, trailing his servo up the side of his frame, teasingly inching toward the delicate spot that made Megatron’s processors buzz.

“You—ngh—slagger!” Megatron’s voice cracked slightly. His servo shook slightly around the fusion cannon, and for a brief moment, he forgot what he was even doing.

Optimus’s face softened into a teasing smile, his voice low. “But Megatron, don’t you want me to help you out with your… stress?”

Optimus leaned in closer, his lips nearly grazing Megatron’s audios. “You seem awfully tense. Surely, a little distraction wouldn’t hurt.” Optimus’s servo slid along the side of Megatron’s hip, gently moving down to grip his thigh. The warlord froze, his entire body locking up. Optimus smiled warmly, "Say the word dearest, any time and I'll stop.”

Megatron’s mind spun with conflicting thoughts: the Roomba, the cannon, the incredibly distracting servos moving to exactly the wrong or right places. "Focus, Megatron," he muttered under his breath, but it was impossible to concentrate with Optimus so close.

Optimus, noticing the warlord’s faltering composure, smirked. “Do you want me to grope you again while you threaten it? That seemed to work so well last time.”

Megatron’s audios twitched, his circuits sparking in protest as he tried—and failed—to hold it together. “Slagger!” he hissed, but it came out more like a pained whimper. The Roomba, sensing its moment, bumped against his foot again.

Megatron looked down at the little bot, his optics narrowed with fire. “This is your last warning,” he growled, but the moment was lost. He couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his faceplates as Optimus’s hand slid closer, brushing against his valve panel.

Optimus smirked, watching his teasing touches make Megatron visibly squirm. “I see you've resorted to threatening the cleaner now,” he purred. “But it seems like you’ve lost focus. How about I help you regain some of it?”

With a swift motion, Optimus slid his hands between Megatron’s legs, spreading his thighs apart just enough to get his attention. “There we go,” he murmured, his voice sultry. “Let’s see if we can make you feel a little better, hm?”

Megatron’s frame jolted, his faceplates a deep shade of red. “Y-you dare—”

“Oh, but I do dare, Megatron,” Optimus teased, his hands moving dangerously close to Megatron’s most vulnerable spots. “Let’s see how long you can keep your composure.”

Megatron tried to stand tall, but his legs felt weak as Optimus gently spread them further, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of Megatron’s plating. He could feel his own systems overheating with the growing pressure. “Optimus,” he panted, trying to resist, but the Decepticons own arousal was becoming undeniable.

“Shh,” Optimus whispered, his lips brushing the side of Megatron’s audios. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Megatron growled low in his throat, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not—I am NOT relaxing!”

Optimus didn’t let up, though. He moved his hands in teasing, slow circles around Megatron’s inner thighs, inching ever closer to the warlord’s most sensitive points. His teasing touches were just enough to leave Megatron breathless, frustrated, and—whether he liked it or not—needy.

“You’re making this much more difficult than it needs to be,” Optimus hummed, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers continued to dance dangerously close to Megatron’s valve panel.

“Optimus, I swear,” Megatron warned, his optics flashing as he tried to retain some shred of dignity. “If you don’t, I will—”

“Don't what, Megatron?” Optimus leaned down, his lips brushing against Megatron’s neck. “Continue? Stop? Leave you alone?”

“I —!” Megatron growled, but his voice lacked conviction. His body was betraying him, and his voice came out as more of a desperate plea than an order.

The Roomba, ever the innocent observer, bumped into Megatron’s foot once more, adding to the ridiculousness of the situation.

With one final, teasing squeeze, Optimus stood up, leaving Megatron standing there, trembling with frustration and desire. “You should focus on your so called enemy, Megatron,” Optimus said, his voice laced with amusement. “Or, I’ll just keep distracting you.” He pressed a finger to Megatron's valve panel, eliciting a gasp. Then grinned, "Shall we continue in berth? Unless of course you want to stay here?"

Megatron, barely able to maintain any sort of dignity, growled, “You manipulative, infuriating—."

The Roomba, now completely undisturbed, beeped softly in victory.

But his voice cracked halfway through the threat, as Optimus’s thumb pressed in a slow, tantalizing circle right against his sealed valve panel. He hissed sharply through clenched denta, his knees nearly giving out. His free hand slammed against the wall beside him for balance, the other still pathetically gripping his useless cannon.

“I’ll have your badge revoked for this, Prime—”

Optimus tilted his head, oh-so-innocent. “For helping my Conjux unwind? You’re tense. Distracted. Aggressive.” He leaned in again, lips brushing the heated plating beneath Megatron’s jaw. “I’m just performing my spousal duties. Preventing another civil war."

Megatron’s vents stuttered, cycling rapidly. “By teasing me in front of a cleaning unit!?”

Optimus sighed, finally drawing his hands back—though not before ghosting his fingers over Megatron’s thighs one last time, dragging his touch down with deliberate slowness. “Fine, I’ll give you a moment alone to win your little war.”

He stepped back with a smirk, crossing his arms, mug still in hand. “Though I have to say… you were much more fun to tease when you were armed.”

Megatron glared at him with every ounce of dignity he had left, which wasn’t much considering the purple blooming across his faceplates and the slight tremble in his thighs. “When I finally destroy that thing, I will find retribution against you later.”

Optimus sipped his drink, unfazed and winked. “Why don't I have a taste of your aft instead?”

Megatron’s systems hiccuped.

His processor tried to register Optimus’s words—taste of your aft—and promptly gave up. Static crackled behind his optics as he froze, speechless for the first time in vorns. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as he glared at Optimus like the Prime had just declared war with a love poem.

“You—! You slag-slicked menace!” Megatron hissed, his voice cracking like old Energon lines. “That is not appropriate battle banter!”

Optimus only smirked deeper, the corners of his lips curling with smug satisfaction as he sipped from his mug again, voice slow and syrupy. “Oh, is it not? Forgive me—would you prefer me to be more specific? Such as what exactly I plan to do to your valve?”

Megatron’s cannon clanked to the floor.

He didn’t even notice it falling.

Instead, he lunged forward, servo wrapping around Optimus’s shoulder plating as he snarled low and furious. “You insufferable, undignified, irredeemable—”

“—attractive, charming, and deeply in love with you?” Optimus finished calmly, setting his mug down with maddening nonchalance.

Megatron's vocalizer gave a low, glitching pop. “That is not—”

But Optimus didn’t let him finish. His hands were suddenly there again—sliding around Megatron’s waist and down to his aft, gripping it boldly.

Megatron yelped, his entire frame jolting. “Stop touching me there!”

Optimus just hummed, leaning closer until their chassis brushed, frame heat humming in shared contact. “You don’t actually want me to stop.”

“I do,” Megatron lied, not very convincingly.

“Then push me away,” Optimus whispered against his audial. “Right now.”

Megatron’s servos twitched. One rested limply on Optimus’s chest, hovering, trembling.

He didn’t push.

He didn’t move.

Optimus’s mouth curved against his plating. “That’s what I thought.”

“You manipulative, spark-charming glitch,” Megatron rasped, his voice barely a growl.

“Your glitch,” Optimus said softly, voice dipped in heat and fondness. “Forever.”

A moment passed.

Then Megatron, cheeks still burning hotter than an overclocked cannon, snarled, “Fine. If you want my attention so badly, take it. But I swear, if that Roomba records anything—”

“Soundwave’ll delete it,” Optimus said without missing a beat, grabbing Megatron by the hips and spinning him around until his back hit the wall.

Megatron let out a stifled grunt as his plating struck the wall, but before he could snap out a protest, Optimus was on him—mouth at his neck, servos firm and steady as they slid up his inner thighs again.

Megatron gasped, optics flashing wide. “You—slagger—!”

“Shhh,” Optimus breathed, finally pressing his frame flush against Megatron’s. “Let your Conjux worship you properly.”

Megatron stood rigid, every inch of his frame bristling with tension—not from battle, but from the sheer audacity of his so-called Conjux.

Optimus leaned back on the doorway with that smug little smirk that had no right being so devastating. “Come now, darling,” he purred, voice dipped in honey and sin, “surely your vendetta against the vacuum can wait until after I’ve finished thoroughly appreciating you.”

Megatron’s vents hitched. “You—you are insufferable.”

“And you are incredibly grabbable,” Optimus replied smoothly, “It’s hardly my fault. I’m merely reacting to your—assets.”

He reached around and gave said assets another gentle squeeze, just to emphasize the point.

Megatron jolted again, his cannon sputtering pathetically in his grip. “Optimus, I swear on the Pit—”

“Mmhm.” Optimus buried his face against the side of Megatron’s neck, plating warm and lips curved. “I love when you make threats while glowering. It’s so hot.”

“I am NOT glowering—” Megatron glowered as his faceplates heated up. His legs shifted awkwardly, bracing against the wall as Optimus’s servos began a slow, torturously confident massage along the back of his thighs. “Slagging—Prime”

Megatron tried to summon his anger. He really did. But it was difficult to maintain righteous fury when his spark was fluttering and his knees were moments away from giving up entirely. His cooling fans sputtered to life with a pained whrrr, and he swore vengeance on his own subroutines for allowing this betrayal.

“I should... exile you for treason,” Megatron managed weakly, as Optimus slid one hand around his waist to pull their hips together.

“Mm,” came the reply, a low hum against his neck. “You’d miss me too much.”

Then, slowly—torturously—Optimus’s other servo dipped down, slipping between Megatron’s thighs with all the confidence of a mech who knew exactly what buttons to push.

Megatron’s mouth fell open. A pitiful, high-pitched sound escaped him. He clamped it shut, optics flickering violently.

“I hate you,” he hissed, voice shaking.

“You love me,” Optimus corrected, pressing closer, his tone smug and affectionate in equal measure. “Unless, dearest, you truly wish for me to stop?”

“Pit take you,” Megatron growled.

Optimus smiled warmly.

Megatron let out a short, strangled noise—not quite a snarl, not quite a moan—as Optimus’s fingers made an especially devious pass along the paneling of his inner thigh.

And then, the Roomba bumped gently into his ankle again.

Both mechs froze.

Megatron slowly looked down at it. It beeped. Cheerfully.

Optimus, with zero shame, leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe we should take this elsewhere. Or are you into being watched now?”

Megatron's fusion cannon sparked and fell off his arm with a pathetic clunk.

“I’m going to kill that Roomba,” he rasped.

Optimus chuckled and pressed a kiss to his neck cables. “After you’re done letting me take you apart, one plate at a time.”

Megatron’s processor fuzzed.

“…Fine. But I still destroy it afterward.”

“Of course,” Optimus said sweetly. “Right after I destroy you—in the best way.”

And with that, he swept Megatron off his feet. Literally. Because nothing said “fearsome warlord” like being carried bridal-style while stammering curses and demanding vengeance on household appliances.

Draft: Respite and Quiet Embraces

The Nemesis was quiet. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Outside, the storm raged on—wind howling, thunder cracking, lightning flashing in bursts that lit the sky and rattled the hull of the warship. But inside the commander’s quarters, Megatron lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as if it had all the answers.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

He shifted restlessly in the berth, growling low in his throat. The storm should’ve been easy to ignore—he’d survived worse. But tonight, something gnawed at him from within, a quiet ache that the howling winds only seemed to sharpen. The berth felt too cold. The dark too empty.

He turned his head, optics flickering toward the space beside him. It had only recently begun to feel like it belonged to someone else—someone warm, steady, infuriatingly calm.

But that someone wasn’t here.

Clenching the sheets in frustration, Megatron tried again to relax. The sounds of the ship creaking beneath the storm only made it worse. He wasn’t used to needing things. Needing anyone.

But tonight, he felt it.

Loneliness. The kind that crept in when the armor cracked, when silence stretched too long. The kind that made him ache for something he didn’t know how to ask for.

"Slag it," he muttered, reaching for his comm link. His hand hovered. Pride screamed at him to stop. But his spark—traitorous thing—pushed him forward.

He hit the call.

“Optimus,” he said gruffly as the transmission opened.

Optimus' voice crackled through the link, a touch of confusion clear in his tone. “Megatron, is something wrong?”

"Just… come here. Now," Megatron snapped, unable to mask the irritation in his voice. He stood from the berth, pacing impatiently. "I can’t sleep. This fragging storm… it’s keeping me up. I need—" He paused, the words catching in his throat, not quite able to say what he wanted to. “Just get here.”

Another beat of silence. “I’ll be there shortly,” Optimus replied. His calm voice soothed the edges of Megatron's frustration.

Megatron ended the call and paced, restless. He didn’t know why he’d done it. They were dating now—whatever that meant between two old soldiers with battle-worn sparks and too many regrets—but he still didn’t know how to ask for this. For help. For company. For warmth.

When Optimus finally stepped into the room, he looked exactly as Megatron expected—calm, composed, his optics softening when they landed on him. The Prime's optics softened as they landed on Megatron, who was standing stiffly in the middle of the room.

“Megatron, what’s going on?” Optimus asked gently. “Why did you call me here?”

Megatron grunted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I can’t sleep. The storm’s making my circuits short out." He paused. "You’re… comfortable. I thought it would help.”

Optimus blinked. “Comfortable?”

“I thought it would help,” Megatron snapped, audials burning. “Just get over here and shut up”, though the sharpness in his voice was undermined by the way he fidgeted nervously.

Optimus’s lips twitched with the faintest of smiles. He raised an optic ridge, clearly trying to suppress any hint of a smile at the grumpy tone in Megatron's voice. But he said nothing, and with surprising warmth, Optimus sat beside Megatron, reaching out to gently pull him down onto the berth.

The storm raged outside, but within the warmth of the room, everything seemed a little quieter. Optimus lay down beside him, wrapping his arms around the Decepticon in a secure, comforting hold.

The contact was simple—an arm around shoulders, a quiet presence beside him. But it grounded him instantly.

Megatron stiffened at first, not used to such gentleness, but the tension quickly melted from his frame as Optimus gently nuzzled against him, offering a reassuring comfort and Megatron exhaled slowly at the warmth.

“You can sleep now,” Optimus murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe.”

Megatron let out a quiet sigh, his optics flickering as the peaceful sensation of Optimus' arms wrapped around him began to sink in. The storm outside felt far less threatening now. There was warmth, and security, and for the first time that night… peace.

He stared at the wall for a long moment, his vents slowing as the storm faded to background noise. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was steady, filled with something quiet and whole.

“I suppose…” Megatron muttered reluctantly, “this is better.”

“Better than what?” Optimus teased softly, his breath warm against Megatron’s audials.

“Better than being awake… and alone,” Megatron confessed, his voice quieter now, the words almost feeling foreign coming from him.

Optimus smiled faintly and gave a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chassis. “Then sleep, Megatron. Rest. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

As Megatron relaxed into the embrace, the storm outside faded to the background, the only sound in the room the steady hum of their processors and the soft beat of their sparks. The weight of the day’s tension finally left him, and his systems slowly powered down, drifting off into the most peaceful recharge he’d had in ages.

Optimus, feeling the rise and fall of Megatron's frame as he finally relaxed, smiled softly to himself. They had come a long way from enemies on the battlefield.

But tonight, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the quiet, the comfort, and the fact that for once, Megatron didn’t have to face the storm alone.

And so, they slept.

Together.

----

They've begun dating in this au however Megatron still struggles with asking for support from his new partner.

More Amorvëael Pax A.U. Moments

Megatron had not left the berth in three hours.

He lay sprawled across it dramatically, one arm slung over his optics, the other curled against a throw pillow as though it had wronged him.

“I can feel you moping,” Optimus said gently from the doorway.

“I’m not moping,” Megatron growled. “I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Mmm.” Optimus walked in, setting down a warm energon cube. “So will you tell me why you're brooding, my love?”

Megatron huffed, made a noncommittal grunt, and turned away dramatically. Despite his field brightening at Optimus endearing terms.

Then came the pitter-patter of tiny peds.

Amorvëael entered the room, face covered in pink and orange finger-paint (for reasons unknown, as they had evidently not used those colors), proudly clutching a large piece of canvas.

They climbed up the berth using Megatron’s leg as leverage and plopped the painting onto his chest.

“LOOK WHAT I MADE!” they squeaked.

Megatron blinked down.

The painting was a wild, adorable mess. Two big figures—one with squarish shoulders and a red crest, the other with a cannon arm and flared helm—stood holding hands, surrounded by tiny sparkles. Next to them was a smaller blob with wings and stars for eyes.

Underneath, in messy but legible glyphs, it said:

“Carrier and Sire 4EVER.”

Megatron’s systems shorted for a moment.

Amorvëael beamed proudly. “I didn’t let anyone help me. I made it ALL myself.”

Optimus made a soft noise. “You knew he was upset?”

“He was glarey,” Amorvëael said, nodding solemnly. “So I made him smile again.”

Megatron’s voice was hoarse. “...You did, beloved treasure.”

He pulled Amorvëael into his arms and hugged them fiercely, paint and all.

Optimus kissed both of them and said, “I’ll frame it. Front and center.”

Megatron didn’t answer—just held his sparkling tighter, his spark warm with happiness and affection.

---

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

---

Another addition explaining why Megatron was grumpy will be added later. Along with some mischief their sparkling was up too.

The Planner Hidden Away

Title: The Wedding Files: Confidential. Do Not Read, Seriously. Stop.

Part One: Journalistic Crimes and Conjux Chaos

Elita One wasn’t snooping.

She happened to be organizing files in Optimus’ quarters—because he sure as Pit wasn’t going to do it himself—and a misplaced datapad just happened to fall into her hands. The bold red words across the front were… “TOP SECRET WEDDING PLANS – DO NOT OPEN – PRIVATE – MEGATRON DO NOT READ (unless you said yes?)”

Which immediately made her open it.

“Elita, we are not violating Prime’s privacy,” Ratchet said, wobbling in with arms full of medical logs and an expression like a mech who desperately wanted plausible deniability. “Put it back.”

“But Ratchet,” she said sweetly, flipping the datapad open, “he labeled it.”

“…With instructions not to open it.”

“Right. That’s like hanging a sign saying ‘No cookies inside, definitely don’t eat.’”

“…You would eat the cookies.”

She grinned. “And look—look at this!”

Ratchet, a medic and war veteran, had seen many horrifying things in his life. Never had he been more stunned than when Elita rotated the datapad toward him and he saw an entire file titled:

"Bridal Veil Options for Megatron (He’ll Pretend to Hate These But Secretly Love Them)"

Ratchet’s face slowly turned a tired grey. “No. Absolutely not. This is—this is romance. I’m out. I’m too old for this slag. I fought in four wars. No.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Elita grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down onto Optimus’ berth. “You’re in this now.”

Entry 17: Veil Option C - Soft white mesh, long cathedral length, attached to a silver head-plate crown (not too gaudy, subtle Decepticon sigil etched beneath). He’ll roll his optics, but I know he’ll smile later when he thinks no one’s looking. Note: ask Knockout to help design.

Entry 42: Vow Draft (Optimus to Megatron): "I once thought you were my enemy. But you are my other half—every fierce word I shouted into the void, you returned tenfold. And through the static and war, I heard you. I still hear you. Even now, I kneel, not in surrender—but in devotion. To you. My fiercest love. My hope, my endless...." It goes on for several pages.

Elita covered her mouth. “He wrote vows. He wrote Megatron wedding vows.”

Ratchet blinked. “He wrote thirty-seven versions.”

“Oh my Primus,” Elita whispered reverently. “He has a color palette for the reception.”

There was an entire spreadsheet labeled “Which shade of blue brings out his fusion cannon best?” with comments like “lavender is too romantic too soon?” and “is navy blue too ‘war criminal chic’?”

They didn’t stop reading until two hours had passed, both of them crying from silent laughter, and Elita desperately trying not to scream “HE PICKED OUT THE FLOWERS BASED ON WHAT HE THINKS WILL MATCH MEGATRON’S EYES.”

—

Part Two: Two Years Later (and One Toddler)

“—and then the handsome, wise hero raised his sword,” Megatron said, seated beside their young sparkling who sat in a soft, reinforced berth, swaddled comfortably, “and he struck down the evil warlord with one mighty swoop—”

“Carierrrr,” the sparkling (named Amorvëael Pax, because “Warcry” was vetoed by Optimus. Aaaand maybe also because Megatron was intensely partial to the name Optimus suggested, not that Megatron would admit), said, squinting up at him. “But what happened to the warlord?”

Megatron grinned—teeth, fangs, and menaces. “Oh, he exploded, obviously.”

“Megatron,” came a low voice from the doorway. “You know the warlord wasn’t evil.”

Megatron groaned, leaning his helm back against the armchair. “Optimus, I am telling a bedtime story. This is a dramatic tale for developmental benefit.”

Optimus stepped into the room like he hadn’t just been doing peace negotiations all day, still looking like every romantic ideal Megatron would never admit he had. He bent over, kissed Megatron’s cheek, then his mouth, and murmured, “The warlord was a victim of their circumstance, of their society’s broken system of repression, and also very pretty.”

The sparkling blinked. “Carrier, were you the warlord?”

Megatron stared. “No.”

Optimus grinned. “Yes.”

Megatron side-eyed him, scowling. “That’s false information. Your sire has no idea what he is talking about.”

Optimus kissed him again, this time longer, and added softly, to both his Conjux and sparkling “Also, I loved him very much. Still do.”

Their sparkling giggled and groaned. “Ew.”

“Someday,” Optimus said cheerfully, ruffling Amorvëael's helm, “you’ll be grateful your parent's are romantic.”

“Someday,” Megatron grunted, dragging Optimus down to sit beside him, then shifting to sit atop the Prime’s lap, “you’ll learn how to properly villainize your spouse for bedtime entertainment purposes.”

Optimus leaned in closer, letting his hands slide to Megatron’s waist. His voice dropped to a mumur, a whisper. “Do you know what I was thinking about all through that meeting?”

Megatron narrowed his optics, suspicious. “…What?”

“You, wearing that wedding gift I picked.” Optimus’ hands squeezed just slightly. “On our first night together. You remember what we did after you took it off?”

Megatron made a small, choked noise that sounded like pure denial and deeply repressed enthusiasm.

“Because I do,” Optimus continued, lips brushing against the tip of Megatron’s audio receptor. “I remember how soft you were. How vocal. And how many hinges we broke off that berth.”

Megatron growled—growled—low in his throat. “We are in front of the sparkling.”

“Hmm.” Optimus grinned, completely unapologetic. “Then you’d better save it for tonight. Besides, they can't hear us, sweetspark.”

The sparkling blinked up at them innocently. “Why is carrier’s face red?”

Optimus stood, lifting Megatron in one arm like it was nothing, and turned toward the hall. “Because we’re going to talk about love and its many expressions, Amorvëael. Bedtime for you.”

"Don't sneak out and eat cookies in the night again! It's bad for your health!” Megatron chastised over his shoulder as he was carried bridal-style down the corridor. He then turned to falsely argue with the Prime. “I am a warlord! I had a feared name! Put me down!”

“You’re my beloved warlord,” Optimus said, lovingly, “and you’re very cuddly when flustered.”

Later that night, Megatron did wear the gift again. Luckily they had long invested in soundproofing.

—

Meanwhile, in their quarters—hidden in the deepest drawer—was a datapad still carefully preserved with labels like:

“Bouquet arrangements for a very stubborn, secretly romantic tyrant.” “Megatron Vows – Final Draft (don’t cry reading these again, idiot).” “Honeymoon suggestions (some of these are just excuses to see him blush).” “Intimate gift plans – do not open until date night (Megatron Edition).”

And at the very bottom: “Wedding File – Complete. Conjux Endurae status: Happily ever after, and then some.”

---

I definitely put way more than necessary thought into their sparkling's name.

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

An Argument's Resolution

I didn't burn a simple dish I was attempting. But while I was waiting for it to bake a funny conversation arrived in my mind.

Optimus and Megatron marry Post War. The following occurs after misunderstanding after misunderstanding. A resolution to their foolish angst and false assumptions.

---

Optimus: “I thought you didn’t like me.”

Megatron: “What?! I’ve been leaving you energon! I made you tea!”

Optimus: “You made it black with no sweetener!”

Megatron: “I thought you liked bitter things! You MARRIED ME!”

They stared at each other.

Optimus whispered, “Do you want to hug me?”

Megatron: “…Yes.”

They awkwardly leaned toward each other, paused, leaned back, then both reached again and collided with a painful clank.

But once arms were around waists, frames pressed together, they didn’t let go.

Megatron buried his helm in Optimus’s neck.

Megatron: “I thought you hated me.”

Optimus: “I thought I was too needy.”

Megatron: “…You are needy.”

Optimus: “You hissed when I touched your shoulder once.”

Megatron: “I was startled! What did you expect!”

Optimus chuckled, rough and joyful. “We’re very stupid.”

Megatron: “Yes. Hug me tighter.”

Haha I wrote a long story while bored. It originally was a draft. Should I continue it? (Writers block)

Prompt: The Coffee Shop Encounter: Your favorite characters from different fandoms accidentally meet in a coffee shop in the human world. What surprising connections are made? (Characters: Light Yagami - Death Note. Akira Howard - Astral Chain. Near - Death Note. Shuichi Saihara - Danganronpa 3. Ticci Tobi - Creepypasta. Jeff the Killer - Creepypasta. Kafka - Honkai Star Rail. Blade - Honkai Star Rail. Silver Wolf - Honkai Star Rail.) 

This story is told from Light Yagamis POV

I didn’t have much time normally. After all, the amount of the scum on this planet was detestable, and someone had to clean it up. What new god would I be if I took a break? 

Yet this was one of the vile times where I had to lay low. It was simply unfathomable to me why they didn’t want me to clean up this world. To make it pure.

Though right now I had nothing to do but face these… requirements head on. And what wouldn’t look more normal than going to the new cafe that opened up? Maybe I needed to put my hand itching for a pen around a fork instead.

The walk to the cafe wasn’t that far from my house, and was actually pretty nice in comparison to huddling in my room with pen, ink, and paper. After all, I’ve spent so much time in front of my computer that I think my chair is exhausted of me.

The inside was peaceful, only disrupted when I brought a small gust of wind in with me through the door. Once the door closed behind me, I was fully inside the small cafe named “Sunlight”, having wood in shades of light orange on the wall, and contrasted by some shades of brown wood outlines for contrasting here and there. It was like they were trying to match their name, but in comparison to blinding ball of light in the sky, they actually set the mood pretty nicely.

The music in the background continued to faintly play as I walked up to the glass case, holding a myriad of different food with smooth white shelves. On the top shelf, a large, layered, circular cake caught my eyes. It seemed to be a strawberry shortcake, on the top layer along with the other cakes, its soft colors complementing the base it was sitting on.

I had come without an order prepared, not scouting out the place before as my dad might. Well, if he got any time off on the Kira case at all.

Even though the cake looked like something Ryuzaki would eat, it did look appealing so I placed it as my order and went to sit down. 

I let out a sigh and looked around, taking in the environment. The overhead fans continue to rotate, making sure the air wasn’t too hot and keeping the cafe at a normal comfortable temperature. It was a relaxing place to say the least, sheltering passerby’s from the bright sun overhead, while satiating their hunger with the knickknacks this place produced.

You may think that it’s weird that I didn’t come with my obsessive, modeling, and pop star “girlfriend” Misa Amane. After all, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ryuzaki thought our relationship was one sided, since he didn’t seem to understand why she was so obsessed with me in the first place. 

Even so though, it seemed like no one knew she was dating a college student that is the son of the chief of police. Which was surprising since it seemed like some peoples jobs to dig up gossip about others and spread it to the farthest corners of the earth.

It turned out that I wasn’t the only one sitting at a table alone surprisingly. You’d think that when a new place opens up, swarms of people would be all over it, with their curiosity getting the better of them. Yet a sparse amount of people were here, making it look like this was an undiscovered gem just gaining popularity.

The first person that caught my eye was one of the three sitting alone, appearing to be a male with messy medium-length black hair. He had a dark blue, form fitting, and dress shirt that had a gray chest plate with the word “police” on it in red. He had some sort of device on his left wrist, hooked to a gray pack thing in his back with a blue chain. It was definitely weird, or unusual as some may call it, along with the fact that his “police” uniform looked nothing like I'd seen before. There was a chance that this light-skinned police officer was from some police force that L hired, but that was unlikely. Ryuzaki would tell me if he did something like that, unless he thought I was Kira which would be a giant pain. 

We both seemed to be waiting for what we ordered, even though this “police” officer stuck out like a sore thumb compared to me. Though this man wasn’t the only one who looked out of place here. This cafe seemed to have attracted an interesting type of people.

For example, another person sitting alone was wearing what appeared to be an academy outfit, even though I didn’t know what school it was from. But to be fair, it wasn’t like I was touring all the schools in Japan.

The person was pale, and wearing a black cap with three white stripes lining the back of it. It also had silver star pinned near the front and from what I could see, he had short dark teal hair under his dark-colored cap. I couldn’t see his face then he was in a spot where he was looking away from me, but I could see his slim figure sitting in the wooden chair.

Though another person was sitting alone with the same shape of body like him, but this person seemed to be more like a boy then something you would call a “man” or consider a “adult of the male gender.” He kept curling his shaggy platinum hair around his finger, which was nearly the same color as his white shorts and pants. He was slender with fair skin, and honestly gave me the same vibes that Ryuzaki gave me.

I heard a faint sound of someone saying “thanks”, and when I turned my head to the direction of the sound, I saw the side of the teenage “policeman” face, his dark grey-brown eyes focused on the waitress serving him his order. Coincidentally, my order came to. And just like the “policeman” I thanked the waitress too before the plate with my cake was placed in front of me, and I grabbed my silver fork, prepared to start eating.

When I was able to get a small piece of the cake in my mouth, it melted instantly. The vanilla cream complemented the strawberries perfectly, adding a bit of creamy vanilla taste to the sweet strawberries. And the dough had been kneaded perfectly, making the sponge light and fluffy, perfect to easily slide down your throat as if it was a boat for the rest of the ingredients.

Unlike me, the white haired boy and the boy with the black cap hadn’t received their order. Instead, the child was piecing together a puzzle made completely of blank puzzle pieces, while the school boy was staring at the other seat in front of them, likely lost in thought. Both of the two were silent, along with me, observing everyone like they were animals in a nature documentary. 

The only talking was from the only group of three, muttering to each other in hushed tones. Two of the three sitting there had their back to me, with one of them wearing a short black coat along with a crop-top which covered the upper part of her body. She also wore a black unbuttoned shorts with a decorative piece of black and purple fabric that hung off her back, along with a white belt that has a game console attached at her hip. Without her stomach being covered, that likely meant that her navel was exposed, but I couldn’t tell, since there was only one person on the other side of them, giving me a clear view of the front of them.

He looked to be a man with fair skin, long dark blue hair with red tips, and red eyes. He wore an oriental-styled black tailcoat with red clothed insides and gray trousers. The tailcoat was embroidered with gold and dark blue colors, and he wears a black belt alongside a styled metal decoration on his left thigh. He was the only man at the table, sitting across from another woman.

This woman appeared to be young with red wine-colored hair that was tied in a messy ponytail with two loose bangs hanging on either side of her face. She looked older than the gray haired woman to the right of her, making it look like this was just a family out for a meal. And if they were, who was I to judge? Though they did seem a little more suspicious than a normally family would, you could easily tell from the gold and silver here and there that they were among the people that were a “higher class”. 

Though in comparison to the other party of people in here, they were actually more normal.

With the remaining taste of sweetness sticking around in my mouth every time I finished taking a bite of the cake, I decided to get a bitter drink to counteract it. I pulled out my phone since I didn’t want to get up and grab a menu, and began to scroll through one of there digital menus I had found online through google. Scrolling past rows and rows of drink choices, I finally found an appealing drink titled “Párizsban” which was actually the word Paris in Hungarian. 

Eventually I managed to flag down a waiter and get my order placed shortly before they walked to the back of the building. The drink in the menu was described as a “coffee with a light brown color, tasting of nuts while the top of the drink had a bit of frothed milk styled to look like the Eiffel Tower.” Whoever had to do the styling for the top of that drink definitely had me feeling bad for them, though they also had my respect to. Whoever was able to make a design like that using a bit of milk was very obviously talented, and could likely pursue a career of art if they tried hard enough. Though that wasn’t the end of the description, also talking about how they put peppermint pieces around the lip of the cup, trying to make the smell “alluring like the city of Paris is.” And also to represent the “city of lights” part of Paris, which was a famous description that it continued to carry.

Honestly the peppermint part seemed a bit slapped together, but this cafe just opened so you couldn’t blame them. They definitely had a good idea going here, it just needed a bit of refinement and touching up here and there. But what that couldn’t help, was the fact that the entire atmosphere was off set a bit from the group of two, sitting in silence.

The one with the back to me had messy brown hair that went in every which way, and his pale, almost gray skin was brought out by luminescent lighting. He was wearing a brown-blue hoodie pullover, a pair of denim pants, a black and white-striped face mask, and he had yellow-tinted goggles on top of his head. On his back there appeared to be an axe with blood that had rusted over, making my built-in-alarm-sounds I had gained from being Kira go off, screaming that he was a villain that needed to be killed. 

Times like these were times that I wanted Misa so I could grab the brunettes name, yet she wasn’t here and it didn’t seem like the cops were going to do anything either. They seemed to be so off-put from his uncomfortable aura that at most they just stared for a while before walking off. Humans were utterly disgusting.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, focusing on the utterly horrific man on the other side of him. They were a pale, noseless man with long black hair and a Joker-esque grin carved into his face. They didn’t have any eyelids either, and had a slim fitting body to go along with his horrific appearance. The longer I stared at him, the faster my heart raced. And as I was staring at him he lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine, making me flinch instinctively.

Luckily though a waiter bringing me my coffee blocked my eyesight of him with their arm, taking my empty plate that previously contained my shortcake away. 

Thankfully though when my eyesight hit the terrifying figure again, he was back to eating again. Though I knew better than to continue staring at him, so I averted my gaze into the distance and began sipping my hot coffee with a heart that was definitely racing faster than normal.

Be Your Guide

An ATWOW fanfic (fem!reader insert)

Note: reader enters the story as “Rayti”, the daughter of a strong healer of the Omaticaya clan. The fic begins after the abduction of Spider, and the reader is worried for her friends upon hearing about the sudden targeting of Jake Sully and his family.

“Leaving?”

“Yes, ma child”, the mother replied as she combed through the unruly locks of her eldest daughter. Aside from the occasional tug on tangled strands, she weaved her fingers to calm her troubled youth. The youth, in question, simply bowed her head in disheartenment. ‘Had they decided to stay, they’d be in danger’, she bit her lip in further dismay, ‘then we’d all be in danger’.

Though hidden away from the turmoil of the constant attacks and resistance between Na’vi and Sky People, she, among many, was not oblivious to the situation of the Sully family. Especially after news of the recent attack reached the ears of their community. She was hopeful, but reality surged to strike at their hearts, already torched alight by the violent operations against their foreign counterparts. Now Spider, her friend, had been taken; the rest spared and brought back safely. They needed a new plan, to guarantee safety for all of them. To save their stronghold from further peril. Of course, it was an eye for an eye, and a price was to be paid.

“So, it is agreed, then?” She was certain that a new Olo'eyktan was to be chosen. There would be a ceremony, and they would all have to see the family off…and then..

The mother, Nao’yri, held her daughter’s distraught face. She could easily read the mind of her beloved in one glance, and she never held any doubt if not in the current moment. No, today she knew what her daughter was thinking, and she didn’t like it. But it was not so easy to halt these gears turning in her head, nor wipe away the determination in her eyes. So, she held the smaller fist of this troubled youth and as their eyes met, it was as if their minds had connected.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, my Rayti”

~*~

The fire drew sprightly glows on the barren ground as Rayti and her mother drew closer to the tent of the Toruk Makto and his family. She could hear the adamant yet flourishing voice of her tribe’s Tsahìk from inside the weaved shelter as an accompanying Na’vi soldier stood by the entrance. He announced her presence and the voices died down. A friendly face popped from inside to greet her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Neteyam!” She scurried to the entrance as the Na’vi soldier turned away.

“Rayti! Come in!” The taller adolescent guided her inside with a pat on the shoulder, as his sibling rushed past him, eager to see her friend.

“Tuk! How are you? All okay?” Rayti stooped down to inspect the youngest, who was already laughing at her antics.

“I’m fine, sister! Mom and dad looked me over,” her voice dropped to a whisper,” It was really scary, though”.

Rayti could only manage a smile at the others, Kiri and Lo’ak, as their father drew closer. “I understand you requested a talk on serious terms?”

“Yes.” Came Nao’yri’s reply. He gestured to the covered floor as the family sat once again, along with their guests.

~*~

The fire flickered and cackled under the heavy stares of its masters.

“I see, so you’d like to join us”, Jake frowned uneasily.

“Simply as an accompanying navigator,” Nao’yri continued, “My daughter believes that her acquaintance with traveling could be of use. She has flown many a time to distant regions in pursuit of the herbs needed for my remedies. She knows of a faraway tribe that could provide sanctuary. And additionally,” she turned to her daughter, eyes soft and smiling.

“I’d like to help, sir,” Rayti cursed the small waver in her voice yet continued, “We are indebted to you and your family, for you among many warriors have ensured the safety of this tribe,” she paused to make eye contact with each of the members of the family, which only strengthened her resolve.

“…it is only right that we as a community should see to yours as well.”

Jake eyed the girl’s eager, swishing tail as his Tsahìk spoke, “And, you can ensure this?”.

“It will not be easy, but I have trained Rayti well in my ways of herbs and medicine. She will be able to provide additional aid with this training. It will take many days and nights to get to this secluded region, away from the forest.”

‘Away from…your home’ Rayti held no doubt what this would mean for Jake and his family, especially Neytiri, who had already gone through so much before becoming Tsahìk. How much more hurtful would it be, to then be ripped apart from home in pursuit of a singular solution, to untangle your heartstrings from the vines of the Earth, and to set flight to a place where no one else could follow? But if she could do something for her friends…to hasten their escape… It would be indeed be painful for each of them, but she was willing to do what she could to help fortify their plans.

Crackle, pop

Neytiri and Jake exchanged a look. Less anxious now, Rayti intervened.

“I will be staying shortly to ensure your settlement goes smoothly, and after-“

“-After she does my work” Nao’yri emphasized tenderly, earning a swift nod from her daughter.

“-Yes, after I retrieve some plant samples. I will return to the Omaticaya clan without a trace of where I arrived from”.

Crackle, sputter

The silence felt suffocating, but Rayti held her gaze. Beside her, Nao’yri reached out to nestle her hand atop her fingers. ‘Would they be convinced?’ she wondered.

“We will discuss this. Your offer is appreciated and will be taken into consideration,” Jake nodded. Rayti’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled in quiet thanks, oblivious to the siblings’ small grins and looks of amusement from seeing her fervid and curved tail movements. Yet it wasn’t a lie that they were shocked by her proposal and even thankful for her stepping up. Knowing her, she couldn’t stay away for long, but like a true friend, she’d always deliver.

~*~

“Whatever I’ve done, I did it for them”

-Rayti

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