#but was checking back on some variables

[thelonelyshore-if]

a little snippet from the last update that i don't know if anyone will ever see, but that still delights me every time I read it. ravi being catty my beloved...

[k9wa]

⟁ SENSITIVE ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “you get all excited for me to fix you up and call you a good boy.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a sensitive spot during a repair leaves him melting into your callused little hands.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, so much flirting im kind of sick, he whimpers i have an agenda, this is like 90% dialogue sorry, he wants u sooo bad. wc 1k, from this req.

“y’know darlin,” boothill managed to breathe out through a taut jaw and clenched teeth. “you bein’ this close ain’t exactly helpin’ me focus none.”

your fingers were slow, careful, precise as they pushed a few tiny wires apart, giving view deeper inside the little panel on boothill’s throat.

the position you two stood in was one all too familiar, boothill perched on your workbench with you between his thighs— the only new variables being your face way closer than he’s used to and your fingers proding around in his surprisingly sensitive wires.

it was an…odd sensation, to say the least. a small unpleasant stinging that simultaneously stimulated a rather pleasant shiver up his back with every small poke.

“time and place, cowboy.”

you responded quietly, tone a little flat with your tease from concentration.

“can’t help lettin’ my mind— wander, can i now?” his breath hitched a bit as you nicked a particularly touchy wire.

“if you let me finish this,” you lifted your head enough to meet his eyes, free hand gently smoothing out the crease in his brow. “i’ll let you show me just how wild your imagination can get.”

boothill bit back a scruff chuckle at that. 

“that enough incentive for you to sit still?”

“well, i reckon that’s plent— mmgh!”

a pair of mechanical hands tightly grab onto your hips as his shoulders tense, a knee-jerk result of your tweezers finding the out of place wire you’d been looking around for.

your hands paused, opting to ignore the way he audibly whimpered for raising your gaze a second time to check on him.

“you hangin’ in there?”

boothill’s fingers flexed as they held onto you, relaxing from squeezing your pants to a more gentle cradle of your hips.

“you know,” he swallowed thickly— as if his throat could even dry out, likely just a natural reflex— “you got a way of makin’ fixin’ me up feel real special.”

the slight waver to his voice isn’t lost on your ears— it was quite loud in them, actually.

“i’m hangin’ in fine, don’t worry your pretty head none.”

carefully retracting your tweezers, you stood up straight enough to lightly push his hat up, giving view to his face and cupping your hand over a blue-hued cheek.

“wanna take a break?” 

he nearly had to clutch his chest with the gentle concern that laced your tone.

boothill knew he was flushed, was purposefully avoiding looking you in the eye because a few pokes to some sensitive spots had him sliding his hands to your waist like a lifeline— not that what he could distantly feel of your skin against the synthesised nerves of his palms weren’t doing much to cool him off anyway. but he did…relax, somewhat. 

he always enjoyed when you’d touch his face, getting to feel all the unique little details of you; the gentle drum of your pulse and the little calluses from your tools. it somehow always manages to make the tension in his body ebb away, draining with an exhale that lightly fans against your wrist.

he shook his head with a quiet clear of his throat— another unnecessary function that served more as a tick than anything.

“nah, nah i’m alright.” he assured. it didn’t make him any less embarrassed to be having such a reaction. 

big bad criminal until you get a little too fudgin’ touchy, apparently.

“let’s just get this finished up, yeah? maybe we can move onto somethin’ more pleasant.”

your thumb gave two gentle taps to his cheekbone before it pulled away, reaching for your tweezers for the nth time.

“that’s my boy.”

oh how boothill’s chest bloomed at the simple praise, the endearing ‘my’ that slipped in with it licking up his ribs and curling to rest along where a drumming heart should have been.

“jus’ be gentle with me, will ya sugar plum?”

“you know i've always got ya.”

each plug or untangle of a little yellow or red cable had his systems humming, fingers occasionally curling into your hips every time a little surge left him biting his cheek a little harder.

“we’re almost done,” your voice is icing on an already cavity-inducing cake, though he’ll gladly take a toothache if it’s for you. “just a little longer.”

boothill was going fist to fist and losing with the urge to completely melt under your deft fingers.

“…keep talkin’ to me,” he requested with a murmurmurmur, cautious not to move too much. “helps me stay on t—” he had to bite back another whimper, cheek going between his teeth and eyes going to the ceiling. “—task.”

boothill didn’t miss the little tug of your lips.

“you know, you do this thing when you get shy.” you mused quietly, breath meeting the shell of his ear. “you bite your cheek ‘n look away. it’s cute.”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at your deduction. he tried to regain some of his composure, though the colour in his cheeks continued to betray him.

“i don’t know ‘bout shy,” he rumbled, keeping his voice steady as he could. “but i’ll take cute if it means i get to hear you keep sweet talkin’ me. keep this up and i might start enjoyin’ these repairs a lil too much.”

his voice was a little strained, though still held his usual humour.

“like you don’t love em already.” you teased back, gently closing the panel on his neck as it re-sealed with a small hiss. “you get all excited for me to fix you up, call you a good boy and send you on your merry way.”

“i’m still waitin’ on that last bit, y’know?”

you shook your head, popping his hat off his head and placing it on your own.

“good boy,” you pinched his cheek endearingly. “you’re all done. do you want a lolipop too?”

“think i deserve somethin’ a lil sweeter than a lolipop, don’t you sugar?” boothill’s face unknowingly deepens at the sight of you in his hat, brave words betrayed by a nervous tap in his finger and more blue to the apples of his cheeks.

“we’ll save it for when you’ve got a real booboo,” you took his hat off, using the brim to lightly tilt his chin up and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. for such a heavy hunk of metal, he nearly began to float.

“but there’s something to hold your sweet tooth for now.”

…

“boothill?”

“y..yeah, sweet pea?”

“you’re overheating.”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[northern-passage]

what have i been up to?

i decided to do a little check-in type post just to let you all know what i've been working on. i know things have been quiet here, mainly because i'm just not as active on social media as i used to be (but especially here)

i have been working on tnp, though. i've been rewriting chapter 2 (what was previously chapter 1) and i know a lot of people complain about rewrites but the fact was simply that i had written myself into a corner; when it comes to IF, when you have a lot of stats and branching and variations to track, you get to a point where it simply does not make sense to try and force it, and i really needed to go back and fix my coding and cut a lot of variables. which is what i've been doing, and many of you have seen how that's changed the game so far with the rewritten prologue (now chapter 1).

with that in mind, i've also done a lot of worldbuilding. again, you've seen some of this if you saw the pantheon post i made a while ago (though some of that has changed already, too, along with more edits to chapter 1 😅) and i've put a lot more thought into the setting, how the world "works" and the different relationships between countries and cultures, etc.

i will be yapping about all of that under the cut if you're interested, but if not, just know i am still working on the game. i do not have an estimated timeline for an update, but i am trying very hard to get chapter 2 out this year.

anyways, my rambling:

one of the main changes will be how Gael and Adrania function. Gael and Adrania remain similar in essence but the relationship has changed, as has the source of their hostilities. i've also put a lot more thought into the way gender roles would work in this world, something that i've previously been a bit wishy-washy on. reading more fantasy and studying lectures on the craft and understanding the way oppression works in the real world has allowed me to brainstorm a better, more realized world with tnp.

that being said, i still stand by my original goal with this project, which is that i'm not really interested in writing violent/graphic misogyny, transphobia, or homophobia. but i am interested in exploring the way empires hold power, and for tnp, that has always been through money and trade. even in the very first iterations, the major cities like blackwater and king's harbor are designed with very clear and purposeful class divides, i've just put a lot more thought into how this would actually work.

and there is also the influence of the gods; when your major religious figurehead is revered as a "mother," as well as the enforcer of justice, what does that mean for the world and the women in it? when you have gods that are genderless or genderfluid, how does that change societies perception of trans people, and gender as a whole?

i struggled when i started tnp about how to depict gender in this world, and originally i simply chose not to give it much thought, and i used a lot of anachronisms rather than actually trying to explore what transness and gender within the context of tnp would look like (i think this was my biggest mistake with Lea at the start. if you remember that you're a real one lol). and i think that's a cop out and simply not how any society would work. Adrania is an empire; people will be forced to comply to various roles and expectations in order for this empire to retain control.

so this led me to 1. reimplement the tolls, something that was present in my very first draft but got scrapped before publishing for the first time. it's easy to control people when you have papers and tolls to track them (or restrict their movements if they don't have the "correct" papers). 2. expand on the relationship between Gael and Adrania. where did these two countries come from? when did they split? how has Adrania managed to grow in power while Gael has not? and how has the plague exacerbated the hostilities? etc. we'll see a lot of this explained in the next chapter (as well as some edits made to chapter 1 again), with Adrania's trade agreements and how they exclude Gael specifically.

and finally, what gender roles are people expected to play within society? if Adrania's main god is a woman (okay, a wolf, but you get it) and a mother and also known to be a ruthless dispenser of justice, what does this mean for Adranian men and women? if their god of death is genderless and also commonly represented as a god of dreams and transitions (from life to death and wakefulness to dreams and from one gender to another or beyond) how does this impact the trans people in this world? if the god of war and harvest is sometimes a woman and sometimes a man, who benefits from elevating one depiction over the other?

lots of fun questions! which i think has led to some interesting changes in the game which makes the world feel more real. it also gives me a reason (not that i "needed" one but, ya know *gestures vaguely*) for all of the women i have in combat leadership roles: Keres, Hadrien, and Merry, just to name a few, and why someone like Redwine would be disliked and challenged as a political, landowning leader instead (and ultimately replaced by a man). while all the warrior gods are women (Wolfmother, the Moon, Stormbringer), Adrania emphasizes the male depiction of the Sun, which leads to this divide of men seeking landownership and more administrative political roles, versus women who, outside of motherhood, make careers as generals and captains and knights.

with trans people, there are similar expectations, of course, but they are also pushed towards more spiritual roles due to their perceived kinship with the death god as well as the Sun (and this also means that while motherhood is revered in this world, there is a looser definition here than in our world, due to transness being acknowledged, accepted, and an integral part of society. what "motherhood" is and what it means to people will be explored heavily in game, you just have to trust me on this one!) obviously there is a real history of trans people being seen this way, and it's something i've turned over in my head for a while. beyond the spiritual, though, trans people are seen in every other role as well, and we'll see some trans people who have little to no relationship with religion or the death god (like Merry, Lea, Clementine, Rodrick, and Rafe) and others that have an actively hostile relationship with it (Noel. lol) and including the potentially trans mc, we see a diverse depiction of trans people, as hunters and watchers and captains and healers and bards, etc. i'm hoping this still gives a well-rounded, multi-faceted look at how trans people live in this world without pigeonholing them solely as "divine oracles," or othering them from their cis counterparts.

overall, i feel that i've matured as a writer since i started tnp and i want that to reflect in the world as well. rereading the original demo made me cringe and a lot of it just felt very childish and flat, and i feel like i really didn't have a strong enough grasp on the fantasy genre, nor the skills and knowledge required to do proper, intensive worldbuilding at the time. now i think the story and setting and characters have grown a lot and i'm more capable and confident to do the things that past me couldn't. anyways thanks for reading all this, this post was just an excuse for me to talk about everything because i'm dying keeping it all to myself LOL. i look forward to catching back up to chapter 3 and finally sharing it all with you eventually!

[spidercatweb]

Perfect Match ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, a little bit of jealous!Spencer 😊, plenty of nervous!Spencer, fluff, a tiny bit of angst i guess, happy ending, r uses dating apps, Garcia and r are besties!!, umm nothing else!

Description: Garcia's wonderful idea of getting r to use dating apps to find her perfect match is not working very well. Spencer gets a little distant when r mentions her plans for a date. r confronts him about this, which leads to confessions, a cancelled date, and a date to take it's place. <3

Word Count: 1,843

Request: "for spencer x reader? early spencer is too shy to ask reader out but reader starts talking about dating and dating apps and Spencer gets really jealous and ends up telling reader he likes them but hes a stuttering mess the whole time?"

A/n: oh em gee 😈😈😈 i enjoyed writing this... i have no experience w dating apps so uhh idk 🤷‍♀️ but i hope this is what you asked for! <3

You weren’t desperate for a boyfriend, you were just getting tired of waiting for the right guy to miraculously appear. So, per Garcia’s suggestions, dating apps seemed to be the best choice. She had also suggested speed-dating at one point, but that was definitely not your thing. So, dating apps it was.

For the past few weeks, you’d spent around twenty minutes a day on these apps. So far, you haven’t had any luck.

Boring. Gross. Likely to become an unsub.

These were the types of men you’d been seeing on the several dating apps you had downloaded.

Maybe the problem was that you were looking for perfect.

On a slow day at the BAU, you sat in Garcia’s office. Her chair was pulled up close to yours as she peered over at your phone screen. It was fun to look at different men’s profiles with a friend.

“Come on, he’s cute!” Garcia swoons.

“No!” He looks like that enucleator we caught last week.” You laugh, swiping left.

Garcia sighs dramatically, “You’re no fun. If you keep up with that attitude you’ll never find a date!” She nudges you with her shoulder while catching a glimpse of the new profile that appeared on your screen.

“I just have standards! Unlike some people.” You tease.

Your attention flashes back to your phone screen. You swipe through the man’s several photos. Attractive. And none of him holding up a fish he caught, that’s a good start. “Hmm.” You go to read his profile information.

“Enjoys reading, quiet nights in, and… horror movies. Okay…” You nod slowly, “Average height, same age as me. Aww, he has a cat.”

“Perfect! I don’t need to know anything else! Swipe right, give him a chance!” Penelope urges you to swipe right.

“Okay,” you giggle, “But if he’s a creep it’s your fault!”

“Oh if he’s a creep, I’ll find out before you do. I am definitely going to background check every single one of your potential partners. Only the best for my girl.”

Your investigation of another man’s profile is interrupted by a knock at the door of Penelope's office.

“Come in!” She shouts loud enough for whoever’s on the other side of the door to hear.

Spencer enters the room with a slight look of confusion on his face, “Hi. What are you guys doing?” He closes the door behind him.

Garcia cheerily explains the situation, “Well, I’m helping Y/n find her dream man. She’s very picky though, maybe you could help find her perfect match with that genius brain of yours.”

“Oh, um-” he laughs nervously, “how exactly are you finding her perfect match? And, statistically speaking, it’s incredibly rare for someone to find their so-called perfect match. There are too many variables to consider. You’d need a very specific set of traits, and of course, nobody is perfect-”

Garcia cuts him off, something she doesn’t do often, “Ah ah ah! You will not make her feel like this is useless!” She points a finger in his face. “And we’ve got her on a few dating apps, of course. Also, not that I don’t enjoy your company, because I love it very much, but why are you in here?”

“JJ wanted you to see her in her office, something about a new case, I think. She texted you but you weren’t answering.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! I guess I was pretty distracted. I’ll go see her right away!” She hops up from her chair and heads towards the door, “You two lovelies have fun while I’m gone! Don’t touch my tech!”

You both giggle as she leaves the room.

An awkward silence washes over the two of you as you’re left alone. You swivel slightly in your chair, phone in hand, your bright screen shows a photo of a man you and Penelope were looking at before Spencer came in. You catch Spencer staring at it from across the room, so you shut your phone off and laugh nervously.

“I, um- Garcia wanted me to try some dating apps, she thinks I’m lonely.” You laugh slightly, “I really don’t know how people are okay with just dating absolute strangers who they know nothing about. That’s really scary to me, I’d much rather date someone I’m already friends with.” You hope Spencer doesn’t think too hard about that last part. Because it would certainly be embarrassing if he figured out you meant him. You’d much rather date him.

“Romantic relationships started online do tend to have a higher failure rate than relationships started in person. And romantic relationships started with someone you’re already close with have the highest rate of success. I really don’t see how people could form a meaningful connection with someone they’ve never met or even spoken to before. I think I would find it hard, not even hearing someone’s voice.” Spencer fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater.

You nod your head, agreeing with him. “I don’t know why I’m using dating apps. It’s not like I have time to date anyway. I spend all my time here.” You huff out a sad laugh.

“No- you- you deserve to have someone, you shouldn’t say that.” Spencer strides closer to you, leaning against Penelope’s desk. “I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. I mean, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re funny, kind, attractive-” He pauses, stopping himself, “It’s really only a matter of time.” A slight blush tints his cheeks, he gives you a kind smile.

You look up at him, mirroring his smile. “I guess so.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had much luck then? With dating apps, I mean.”

“No, not really. But there is this one guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Oh.” he nods, you notice something in his eyes. Disappointment? He was never very good at hiding his feelings. “What's he like?”

“Well, his name is Nick. We’ve been talking for about… a week? I think? We might go on an actual date soon, I think I’m going to ask him.” You grin, thinking about the kind exchanges you’d been having with the man.

“That- That’s really nice. I hope it goes well.” No extra statistics, straight to the point. Odd.

***

A conversation later that day led to you actually asking Nick on a real, in-person date. You only have so much free time, why not spend it enjoying yourself? So, that was it. You officially had a date scheduled for Saturday night. Only three days away.

***

Nothing of note happened for the next three days,though you did see Spencer acting differently. Less rambles, less conversations in the break room, more silent glances he thought you didn’t notice.

At the end of the day on Friday, you catch him before he gets to the elevator. “Spence!”

He turns around to face you, clearly a little startled, “Yeah?” He clutches the strap of his satchel that goes across his chest.

“Are you- Did I do something? Why haven’t you been talking to me?” You attempt to keep a neutral tone, but sadness seeps through.

“I have been talking to you, what do you mean? We talked about the case today-”

“No. You know what I mean, Spencer. You haven’t- went on a fifteen minute ramble about like- sea urchins and their contributions to the ecosystem- or whatever. You’ve been avoiding me.” You can barely look him in the eyes. He’s been one of your closest friends for years and now he’s acting differently. It hurts.

He rushes to explain himself, “Y/n, no. I- You were um-” He pauses. Lying will only make it worse. “You told me about how you were going on dating apps, and how- how you’re going on a date this weekend and-” He takes a breath, “It just really- I was jealous.” He sighs, his face reddens immediately.

“What?” Did I just hear that correctly? Jealous?

“I was jealous I-” He runs his hands over his face, “I am jealous. I’m sorry.”

“So you… are jealous… that I’m going on a date?” You’re still confused.

He nods slowly, avoiding eye contact with you. His face gets more red by the second.

“Because… you want to go on a date with me?” You feel your cheeks warming up, your tone is soft, you ask the question carefully.

“I-” He clears his throat, “Yes. I really- Yeah.” He sighs like he was holding his breath. “I’m sorry, that’s so unprofessional, and I know I shouldn’t treat you differently because of how I feel. I should’ve been thinking about how it would affect the team-”

It takes you two tries to interrupt his nervous ramble, “Spencer.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, you stopped his train of thought completely.

“If you really feel that way, then I’d love to go on a date with you.” You give him a reassuring smile.

He stays silent for a few moments, processing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

His smile grows, “Yeah?” he huffs out a surprised laugh. “But what about your other date?”

You giggle, “He- I think he’ll understand. I’m also pretty sure Garcia found some weird stuff about him while she was snooping around so…”

“Ah. Okay.” He nods, “So when… When were you thinking? I mean you don’t have to decide right now of course.”

You can’t hold back a giddy smile. “How about tomorrow? Lunch at the cafe by the used book store?”

“That sounds really nice.” He nods again, eagerly.

“Okay, great. Um- does sometime around twelve work? I can text you when I’m on my way?” You fidget nervously with your necklace.

“Yeah, of course.”

You both stand silently for a few moments, both in disbelief that this is actually happening.

“Um- I should-” Spencer points behind him to the elevator doors.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Your face warms even more, you’d forgotten he was about to leave, “See you tomorrow.”

He echoes back, “See you tomorrow.” He grins as he walks into the elevator. As the doors shut in front of him, you both wave happily at each other.

***

Penelope comes running out from the glass doors of the BAU, “What was that!?” She rapidly waves a pointed finger between you and the elevator.

“Nothing! It was nothing! I was just saying goodnight!” You laugh nervously.

“Liar!! I know that face!” She gasps, “You asked him out!? Oh my gosh! Finally!!” She takes your wordless grin as a yes, and catches you in a tight hug. “You two are going to be so cute, I just know it!” she lets you out of her grasp, “And I won’t tell anyone, pinkie promise.”

***

The Tuesday after your’s and Spencer’s date –which went extremely well, ending with a promised second date after your next case– you notice the rest of the team snickering about the two of you not-so-subtly. The next time you see Penelope, you give her a knowing glare, but you don’t scold her. Really, it’s better the team finds out now rather than later, in some horribly embarrassing way. Unfortunately, this means you’ll have to be signing some paperwork soon.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

[thepartyresponsible]

prompt fill! i got two requests for clint barton and the prompt "i did good, right?" but one of them asked for clint and frank, so here's a short fic about frank castle and clint barton meeting in a war zone.

warnings for some references to torture, but nothing too graphic.

---

Frank doesn’t work with SHIELD often, but their paths cross occasionally. Often enough, anyway, that Frank learns SHIELD controls access to the best sniper alive.

Sometimes, when they’re lucky, Cerberus gets to secure that sniper’s nests. They don’t get as many chances as Frank would like, but his team knows their hunting grounds better than anyone else, so they get exactly four opportunities to watch the sniper work.

Frank’s on three missions with the guy before he ever sees his face, and it’s a shock, finally, when he matches those beautiful shots to the friendly blonde mess of him, all those lanky limbs and scattershot freckles and lingering Midwestern vowels.

“Your fucking aim,” Frank tells him, because Russo’s been charming him for fifteen minutes, but all Frank can think about are the angles, and the drop, and the unholy gift of this guy’s brain, the precise calculations he runs, his unbelievable capacity for multitracking variables. 

“You should see me with a bow,” the guy says, cheerful and goofy-grinning, and Frank thinks, sure, he’d like to.

But the next time Frank sees him, he’s a body dropping onto the metal floor of a quinjet. A bloody sack of bruised meat half out of uniform, white t-shirt soaked in blood and dragged through dirt, skin ripped beneath it. One eye swollen shut, throat ringed in lapping lines of red and purple.

It’s a waste. Best mind of a generation, best aim of the century.

Frank’s processing the loss of it, grieving all those pristine killshots, and then the sniper breathes in hard and chokes on it, and Frank realizes Jesus, that body’s still alive.

“Rumlow,” the suit says, rolling his eyes, “for fuck’s sake.”

“You fucking carry him,” Rumlow snaps back, wiping his stained hands on his shirt. “He’s been an asshole the whole way.”

The suit crouches down and checks vitals. Pulse and pupils, airway. “Barton,” he says, thumbing open the sniper’s good eye. “Barton,” he says, louder, “you with us? Hey. Barton!”

“Fucking,” Barton says, and then, “Sitwell. Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, “you here?”

Barton licks his busted lips. His eye is open but unfocused, rolling. “Yeah,” he says. “Here.”

“He’s high as shit,” Rumlow reports. “I didn’t see anything broken. Got some bruises.”

“They had him for seventeen hours,” Sitwell says. “Of course there are bruises. What else? We need to document anything Coulson’s going to be sensitive about.”

“He’s fine,” Rumlow says. Sounds petulant. “Didn’t lose any fingers. He’s still got his eyes.”

Beside him, Billy’s completely still. If he thinks they shouldn’t interrupt, he’s probably right. But Frank’s struggling with the fact that the asset reclamation mission he was briefed on was actually a rescue.

“Can we go?” Rumlow asks. “We lost a whole day to this shit.”

Sitwell rises to his feet. He’s in charge here, apparently. Frank’s not impressed with his leadership. “If you’d kept a better eye on him---”

Rumlow throws his hands up. “Not my fucking job. I did my job. He got grabbed. That’s his shit.”

“I’m sure Coulson will be very reassured to hear that,” Sitwell says. “And very willing, naturally, to lend his agent out in the future.”

“So get us our own sniper, and we won’t have to deal with this shit again.”

This shit is still semi-conscious on the floor. He flinches when Sitwell steps past him, whacks his head against a metal post.

“Jesus,” Rumlow says, “this guy.”

He reaches down, fists his hand in what’s left of the sniper’s shirt, and drags him to the center aisle. Frank studies the smear of blood on metal, thinks, if this were his team, he’d throw Rumlow to the ground instead. Or maybe out of the back of the plane.

“He should be secured,” Frank says.

“Yeah, that was kinda the whole fucking problem,” Rumlow replies. “He never fucking stays where you put him.”

There were never any issues on the missions Frank ran. But there usually aren’t.

“For takeoff,” Frank clarifies. “So you don’t concuss the guy we just raided a compound for.”

Rumlow shrugs. “He’s already concussed.”

Billy breathes in. He shifts, just a little, leans his shoulder into Frank. It’s a warning, probably, but Frank doesn’t listen.

“You know anything about second impact syndrome?” he asks.

Rumlow rolls his eyes. “Christ.”

“You want a demonstration?” Frank says.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rumlow asks. “Some loaner boots we picked up? Look, asshole---”

“Secure your fucking sniper,” Frank says.

“Or fucking what?”

“Gentlemen,” Sitwell says, leaning back from the cockpit to glare at them.

“Who is this fucking guy?” Rumlow asks, gesturing toward Frank in a way that makes Frank want to break every single one of his fingers. And then possibly his neck.

Sitwell looks at Frank, looks at Billy, and then looks back to Rumlow. “Looks like the guy who’s about to give you two weeks of medical leave, Rumlow. I don’t know who they are. Coulson requisitioned them personally, though, so you can put those puzzle pieces together yourself.”

Frank doesn’t know who Coulson is, but he’s the only name that seems to give Rumlow any kind of pause. When he looks back toward Frank, that name weighs on him enough that he opts not to engage further.

“This shithead missed evac,” Rumlow says, “and ruined my whole Goddamn weekend. So if you wanna fuss over him, feel free. But I’m done babysitting.”

He turns his back, and Frank thinks about punching in him the head. But Rumlow has more men on this plane than he does, and Frank’s not here to fix SHIELD’s fuckups for them.

“C’mon,” he says, instead, as he crouches down next to the sniper, “let’s get you up.”

Seventeen hours, Frank thinks, and this guy’s wearing every single one of those hours on his skin. Someone beat the absolute shit out of him.

“Oh, hey,” the sniper says, squinting up at him and Billy with his good eye. “The hot Marines are here. Nice.”

Frank glances up at Billy, who just shrugs, like, Fuck off, Frank, you know who we are.

“Yeah,” Frank says, because he might as well. “Let’s get you ready for takeoff, huh?”

The sniper hums. “Hell yeah, this place sucks.”

It takes some careful maneuvering, and some help from Billy, but they get him upright and slumped between them, buckled enough to hold.

He wheezes when he breathes. He shakes a little, sometimes, from the cold or the comedown or both. He gets less and less vertical until his head is fully on Frank’s shoulder, both eyes closed, swaying.

Twenty minutes into the flight, his fingers twitch and then tighten against Frank’s hip, and he says, quiet enough that probably nobody but Billy hears, “That fucking sucked.”

“Yeah,” Frank says, and then, “sure.”

Because yeah, sure. Looks like it really, really did.

“I did okay though, right?” he asks, murmuring it into Frank’s neck, frayed out and bloodied and still dazed by whatever they gave him. “I did good?”

“Sure,” Frank says, and he thinks maybe he’s going to fight Rumlow after all. Maybe, after they land, after they get this sniper to someone who knows enough to care about him, Frank’s gonna drag Rumlow from one side of the runway to the other until his arms get tired. “You did, yeah.”

[livingdeadgirlflorette]

YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME ⊹˚. ♡. ݁ ˖ carl grimes x fem! reader

summary : With Carl's dream's being invaded by a girl of all things, curiosity gets the best of him when he sees her pass by in real time— and he couldn't just let her slip away just like in his dreams, not this time.

word count : 6.2k

tags / rundown : fluff, strangers to ???, reader is a sucker for cute boys, carl is confused, carl doesn't know how to talk to girls, reader is an archer and all that jazz

a / n : i'm not really sure if i like the theme, but the tv girl theme just had to be made with the fic >< I think I really like Y/N and Carl's relationship here! i'm definitely gonna make a part 2 to this ^^ also thank you again for the support! I didn't think my fics would get a lot of traction but here we are! I love each and every single one of you from the bottom of my heart (*≧∀≦)

dividers by me ! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"Be careful, alright?" Rick places Carl's hat on his head, squeezing his shoulder lovingly then pulling him in for a hug.

Carl knows he shouldn't feel down, but with his father getting all caring for him now that he was going on his first solo run he couldn't help but let his parent-like tendencies out.

"I'll keep a vigilant eye out for you, okay Dad?" Carl assures his father. They both pull away and they say bye to each other at the gate, waiting for the gate to fully close to have one last glimpse at one another.

When the walls finally shut and he's officially seperated, Carl gets into the car that was supplied by the community; he's quite smug about it, knowing how to drive a car and all (he literally wouldn't stop bragging to Enid about it, who was praying to any deity out there for him to stop).

Driving was like second nature to him, it was therapeutic to say the least. There was nobody and to bug him about, at least when he was driving. That's what he loved most about it; no questions, no thoughts, just the stable whirring of the car engine and the stepping of the pedal harder every once in a while. But sometimes the silence and calm gets shrouded by a storm of thoughts he never could get to cease, even in the comfort of his own room.

On the off chance that Carl was relaxed and tired enough, he'd pass through the gateways of his mind and slip into his dreams. From the amount of times that it'd been there whenever he did dream, there was a constant variable that he would always expect when coming into the languid dimension of sleep.

It was always the same event; he would always have a blurry vignette of a vision of him on an unspecified person's bed— yet he felt heavy, not being able to move. The only thing he could barely move was his eyesight.

From his impaired vision he could see a woody ceiling, one that you'd see from a regular house made from tree. Multiple graphic posters on the wall, yet he could see the familliar colors of the comic franchise he was actively reading.

Looking around, he could only see the blurred vision of candles and oil lamps surrounding him. And the one thing that was always there was a girl; sitting on the edge of the bed, tending to presumably some kind of wound he'd have on his head.

The countless times he has been there, he tried to clear his vision from the lethargy-induced haze to make out some kind of features on your face. But to no avail— all he could remember was the warmth of your hand tending to him, using the back of your hand to check his forehead.

Carl tried to stop it, he swears he did. He tried prohibit himself from getting used to the comfort of the looping dream, because that's what they were. Just dreams— yet his mind seemed to betray his body, subconsciously opening the door of the scene of girl in that house, tending to him with such care. He guesses since there was no stopping it, he'd rather just indulge himself in it.

But before Carl could let himself dig deeper into the unanswerable questions he had, he barely registered the stable whirring of the car had ceased. He logically looked at the fuel gauge, seeing it empty.

"Fuck. . ." He muttered with his voice low. How could he have forgotten to bring extra gas?

Sighing frustrated, he grabs the fire-red fuel container from the passenger seat and got out of the car— He figured he'd just have to look for gas farther from here, since there didn't seem to be any sign of cars anywhere near where he was. With a bored expression on his face, he put his bag on his shoulders with fuel container in hand, and he sets out south. Going in one direction would be better, he could easily make his way back.

Even with the constant cricket of bugs and the sound of moaning of walkers he'd pass through, Carl's mind seemed to rebel him; his thoughts going back to the girl that was tending to him in his restless dreams. But he figured that maybe it wasn't too bad, cause he remembered another variable he saw in his dream, and that was a recurve bow, lying just a few feet away from the blurry-faced girl.

That was something that he'd always get irritated by— how no matter how hard he squints his eyes until it makes his dream-self's mind hurt, the frosted vision of his never clears to see even a feature of her face.

From all his thinking, he didn't even realize the terrain his feet were walking on had changed. He comes across a small town a few minutes away, he never knew there was one—and how close it was to Alexandria. He'd be sure to tell his Dad about it later.

He walks through the empty streets, trying to find any sign that there could be gas somewhere, anywhere. With nothing to show for it, Carl thinks next best thing he should do is find food, pills, or anything at this point. He guesses he'll have to stay for a day, recoup and make a plan how to get back. Right now he was stranded in an abandoned town, at least he could try finding something, or somewhere to help him get through the night.

Carl decided a first stop wouldn't hurt to be a department store, but he bangs on the glass doors, waiting a few for any sign of walkers. When nothing happened, he pushes through the doors. Almost everything on the shelves were on the floor, but it looked to be all sealed.

Just like clockwork, he gets to checking the items on the shelves and puts a few items in his bag, then going on one of his knees to kneel and observe the dropped items— looking at labels seeing if it could still be usable. But before he could do anything more, he saw a singular figure passing by with a weapon he was sure engraved in his memory by now— a recurve bow. But through the frosted glass of the entrance, just like in his sleep— and just as fast as it came, the figure was gone.

His eyebrows furrowed— why would someone still be here? He swore there was no sign of life and no use to be here, the town was practically wiped of anything. Did he miss something? But more importantly— why did the figure have a recurve bow that looked exactly the same in his dreams? He needed to get to the bottom of this.

With a light pace, he opens the door to the creaky glass entrance as quiet as he could and goes to follow the person. He thinks it's a girl though, seeing a brief glimpse of their attributes, and no walker had normal footsteps and walked that brisk. He ensues his trail, wanting to find out— who was this girl?

Carl knows he shouldn't, he should turn back and keep looking for stuff he could use for tonight, but there was some kind of alluring aura— pulling him in and making him want more than just a passing view. He doesn't pay mind to how he should be looking for items to bring back to Alexandria, but that's a problem he'll cross later.

After a good while of walking, he's sure this girl had some kind of problem, 'cause she would've heard him by how many twigs and sticks he's stepped on. It's either she knows she's being followed by him, or she simply doesn't care. That conclusion eludes him.

But he guesses he should've have kept a vigilant eye as he said to his father last time he saw him, because once they made it in the dense forest, the girl's figure was getting harder and harder to spot. Maybe it's cause he's still adjusting to his new perspective with having one eye now, but focusing on one singular moving object through a mess of fauna is harder than it was last time he remembered.

But he had another problem to deal with now. One moment the girl was in his sights, then the next she was gone. It was like she was never there, and he was just following some kind of higher entity. He was dumbfounded, and it was prominent on his face. Maybe his eyesight was playing with him?

She was just there! Where could she have gone?

Before he could think anymore rhetorical questions, last thing he had seen with his vision before going black was him falling down. He knew it was a bad idea abandoning the town and following this stranger, but maybe he just dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of.

You were worried for your life, to put it short. You were just going through the town a walk away from the cabin, with just your recurve bow and your scavenging bag. You thought it would be a quick sweep, easy and light. But once you made it out of that town and started by going to the direction of your camp, you were starting to hear footsteps.

It was scary enough that it was constant, not stumbling or moaning behind you. But that was what worried you even more— if a walker wasn't behind you it was a person; and people were far more dangerous than walkers in this world.

Trying to steady you're breathing, you think what could you possibly do to get out if this predicament you're in. 'Should I run?' If I do, the person will probably run after me. 'I'll fight then.' But you aren't sure if their stronger than you, and you don't want to find out. 'Maybe sneak around him in the forest?' Your panicked thoughts ceased momentarily.

You could try, going back to the camp you'd get to a densely packed forest— and most probably you know the way around it more than the person behind you does.

Trying to steady your breathing, you grip your bow just a little tighter when you see the forest getting thicker. It's now or never. You walk a little more just to find somewhere you can sneak under, then acting on it when the moment's right.

You see him from behind, looking left and right for you, but you stop his movements by using the back of your bow to hit his head— not enough to add permanent injury, but enough to cause a major headache when he wakes up.

When his body falls to the ground, you're still in a hostile stance, but your actions soften when you realize he isn't getting up anytime soon.

With a careful hand, you turn him around on the ground by grabbing his shoulder. What's before your eyes slightly shocks you. It was just a boy— you're age, if not older than you. He had long soft hair, as if he had just showered not too long ago. You wonder how he kept it looking like that, especially with freshwater scarce now.

But what caught your attention the most was his bandage. It was wrapped around his forehead to help support the gauze on his eye. His eye. It was covered, but you could barely see peeking out of his bandage was slight scarring. What happened to this boy? It made you slightly guilty. Well, even more now that you realized his bandage was coming loose.

You were at a cross road, were you going to leave this boy in the middle of the woods where he doesn't even know the way out or which direction is which— or should you haul his ass back to your camp and take care of him? He was following you from the town into the forest, but he didn't look like he was raised to do heinous acts to a girl. He looked like he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you, but he also looked vulnerable, and undeniably— so adorable.

You couldn't deny it no matter how hard you tried. Even in this wretched apocalypse— you still had a soft spot for cute boys. But can you blame yourself? You've been by yourself for years, and he was the first boy from the handful of people you've seen from your time in the apocalypse that was genuinely attractive.

With a heavy heart and a deep sigh— you put your bat in your bag of scavenged stuff, then ready and stretch your muscles cause you're about to drag (from your analysis) a 5'7 weight back to your cabin.

You didn't expect he'd be so heavy, but with you forgetting to exercise and him being a teenage boy— you guess it wasn't all that surprising. When you get back to your camp, it's hard getting the door open.

But you push through and try your best to put him on your bed so he can at least get comfortable. When you pull back finally from that exhausting feat, you realize his bandage had come off. You guess it fell off from the journey of you dragging his weight back here, you didn't even notice it. but now you do.

You should be disgusted, but you weren't— you thought he got hurt. You were worried. Looking at it longer made you realize that this kid went through it, losing an eye and still living. One eye in the apocalypse and he's still alive? He was starting to get a lot more badass in your book.

But then your mind thinks that you should change his bandage, it fell off and the least you could do was replace it. Scrambling to find any of your medical supplies, you wonder what you're doing, running around trying to find clean medical supplies for a random stranger. But to you, it's all worth it when you have to get close to him to clean around his eye.

With a gentle hand, you lightly dab around his scarred skin, getting all the dirt and debris off that had accidentally made its way near the wound. You don't know why, but even with his scar as large as that— he's still so handsome. He must have won the genetics awards, cause to you he got the best of both worlds from his parents.

Going back to reality, you use your other hand to lift his head to wrap the bandage around him, using is to support the bandage now covering the scar. You take your time with it, subconsciously trying to touch his hair in the process. It makes you blush, knowing if your body was reacting like this when he was unconscioud, you don't know how you'll manage when he wakes up.

Oh. You need to be real with yourself for a minute. When he wakes up, he'll freak out because he's in an unknown place with a girl that knocked him out. He's going to panic.

You can't have that right now. Maybe you could restrain him? It sounds unethical, but you can't take any chances. Getting your rope, you grab both his wrists and tie them above his head to the headboard. You know it'll be uncomfortable for him, but you're not going to let him thrash around your house freely until he calms down.

You stand up from sitting on the edge of the bed, and open a sliver big enough to see through the curtains. With nightfall coming, it's getting cold. You look back at the unconscious boy, 'it wouldn't be so bad if I just covered him with a blanket, right?' Everything you're doing for the boy seems too nice to just be welcoming, but you don't want to pay attention to it anymore. Maybe you were going crazy.

Going back to where he was sitting, you take a folded blanket next to him and place it on his lower half. It's quite adorable, really— none of the blankets you had seemed to cover all of him (it barely even covered you too) so you just had to do with covering his lower half and a quarter of his upper half, barely meeting his torso.

With no more space on the bed, the edge seemed to be your only option. So you do, then just play with your fingers, thinking. From carrying that boy through the forest and in your camp— you're too tired to eat, and all you wanted to do was wait for the long-haired brunet to open his eyes— so you figured just tinkering around the room. You arrange your stuff, organize all the stuff you had found from your journey before this whole 'knocking-someone-out' debacle.

You were doing just about everything to pass the time, waiting for just any sign that the boy would wake. But you guess someone out there was listening to your thoughts as your head turns to the sound of faint moaning from the boy. You guess you were right to assume that he'd have a killer migraine when he would stir.

When he flutters his eyes open, he quickly lets his fight or flight control him as he wriggles around, you try to diffuse the situation.

"Hey— woah, calm down. Stop moving." You say, but it seems like it doesn't get to him when he just continues his actions, thrashing harder even.

You try to think of something to calm him, or make him stop moving around that is. Without thinking properly and with his panicking also influencing you, you grab his gun that you took from him when he was knocked out and pointed it right at his head.

"Listen, if you don't stop that i'll blow your fucking brains out. Get that?" Your threat had seemed to work partially, since he had stopped moving erratically. But what you don't understand is how his eyes soften. What the hell? this guy's for sure got something knocked out of his head when you hit him.

'What's with this guy?'

Carl thought he was dreaming. He felt relieved, confused, and a whole lot of pain from the back of his head all at the same time. His eyes really weren't deceiving him, the girl he saw pass by was actually you. The constant blurred haze in his vision wasn't there, and he saw it all the more clearly. He looked around, seeing the same wooden ceiling and posters— but what sealed the deal was that distinct recurve bow.

And you. Even in his blurred dreams, he could already tell you were enthralling, beautiful but fierce-eyed. However, now that he can see you all the more clearly, he thinks he may have understated you.

"Okay, you're weirding me out. First off, why the hell were you following me?" Your voice didn't the same enough bite it did at first, now just confused. You really were weirded out. You had threatened him just mere seconds ago, but now he was looking at you, like you were under a microscope, waiting to be observed. It made you a little self-conscious.

Carl knew he would sound ridiculous. 'I kept seeing you in my dreams.' Like the girl wouldn't be creeped out even more than she is right now. So he starts off vague.

"I thought I saw you somewhere. Sorry if it felt like I was creeping up on you." He figured it wouldn't be too bad to apologize now and get it out of the way.

". . . It's all cool," You say. "Not the uh, you— not you creeping up on me, but like— it's water under the bridge for me now, yeah?" You reiterate.

It's stupid. You feel stupid. Here you are stumbling over your words to a boy that you tied up in your cabin, it makes you feel like you're the one being tied up instead.

"Cool, thanks. But can you uh. . ." He waves his hands to gesture them. "Could you let me out of these?" Carl really wants to feel like he has freedom from his movement. It's one thing that you're actually talking and not just caring for him in his visions, but it'll be the nail in the coffin if he could move. Then he knows this isn't just a hyperrealistic dream he's having.

"I dunno. . ." You're genuinely thinking if you should or shouldn't cut him out of his ropes. "How can I be sure you won't hurt me the second I cut you out of those?" You nod at the knots around his wrists, they look like they aren't getting loose any time soon— no matter how childish the achievement is, you pat yourself on the back mentally.

"I promise I don't plan on hurting you, okay?" He tries to assure you. He really won't, he doesn't really don't know what to do even if he does get cut loose— it all seems too surreal.

"Also— even if I was going to, my head is pounding and I don't have the capacity to do anything but go through it." Carl said. His head wasn't just pounding, it was like someone was hammering into his skull— his head felt like it was gonna burst.

"Oh yeah, i'm sorry about that—" You get up and grab your bag, opening it to fiddle through it, before finally finding what you intended to give to him. "Have these, I couldn't really give it to you when you were. . . y'know? When you were knocked out and all that." Maybe your social skills weren't the best, but you were trying.

You showed him a pill bottle, with a weathered label that boldly spells out 'Ibuprofen'. He was thankful, you seemed just as clumsy and cute as you were in his dreams. You were stumbling, but you meant well.

"Thanks, but i'm still tied up, so. . ." His remark made you realize you were trying to give it to him but you forgot he was still in his restraints.

"Oh! Yeah, uh- sorry about that let me just—" You hover him, trying to cut the ropes that was tying him to the headboard.

Carl thought of himself as a respectful guy, he'll look the other way when something racy is infront of him, but it's hard to look any other way than in front of him when you were leaning slight above him, his eyes directly in level with your chest. He tries to just focus on how much the rope was uncomfortable and how it chafed against his skin— probably giving him rope burn when he looks at his wrists, anything else to focus on to stop the blood from flowing through his face.

"There, sorry about your wrists though." You finally pull away. Your knots were severely hard to cut through, something you'd have to remember just in case. Carl's thankful you seem so awkward and in thought, cause if you weren't, you'd notice how red his face had gotten.

"Yeah— uh. Thanks, for this— I mean." Carl takes the pill bottle you were giving to him, not ignoring how even just the brush of his fingers against yours feel like a dozen jolts going through his hands then to his heart.

"Why didn't you just leave me there? I was following you, surely you didn't think it was just the wind." Carl was curious, why did you let him follow you? he knows if he was being followed he'd get up and running through the woods in every direction if he was getting trailed, so why didn't you?

"If I left you there, i'd be as good as the people that don't deserve to live in this world." That and also how you couldn't just leave such a cute boy alone in the woods, but you think you should keep that to yourself. "Also, your bandage came off so," You gesture with a nod to his bandage.

"I changed it for you. Your welcome, I guess." You finish off, not really sure if he was comfortable about the topic, so you'd tried to keep it quick and straight to the point.

His facial expression goes icy and touches the bandage on his damaged eye, and just as you had said, you had changed it. But that wasn't what he was worried about. You saw him? No, you couldn't. He looked monstrous, abnormal— but you seemed unphased. You were getting all the more interesting. He was curious to find out more and more about you.

"Don't I look hideous to you?" Even from meeting mere moments ago, it felt so easy to get vulnerable with you. Like you had known him for longer than you actually did. Maybe it was because he knew you for much longer than you knew, but he digresses.

"Hideous? Oh God no!—" You laugh at his question, you look at him with a small smile growing on your lips. He looks at you, muddled.

"You look fucking cool, dude. Don't think about it too much." You were being sincere. You really did think he looked badass. He shouldn't feel insecure about it, especially when it made him look so tough.

Your answer made him seem to relax, less apprehensive and more— calm. Calm. That's what he calls it. That feeling he always felt when he saw you in his dreams seemed to carry on to the real you. It made his heart relax, going into a steady rhythm.

"Thanks." Carl didn't want to keep saying the same thing all over again, but he can't help it. Whenever he looks at you all over again, and knowing you think that— that he looked cool, not anything else— all the words his mind had remembered were turned into nothing, just plain word vomit.

"It's nothing. Uh. . . Oh! I'm uh— I'm Y/N, by the way." Not wanting to seem rude, you reach your hand out— gesturing for a handshake. Even in the apocalypse, you couldn't help but keep up with your manners. Carl thought it was silly, but in a good way.

Carl looks at your hand then back at you, hesitating— before reciprocating the gesture. Grabbing your hand firmly and shaking it softly.

"Carl." The boy you'd been nursing had finally had a name to him. Carl. You couldn't help but think it suits him, but you shake that thought.

"You know— for a person who knocked me out first time we saw each other, I'd think you wanna be friends." Carl jokes. Under all that playfulness in his tone, he really did want to be your friend. More than that even, but he'll keep that locked in his mind for now. The boy wanted to know more about the girl he'd been seeing every time he went to sleep. You made him curious, something he rarely ever felt.

"Yeah! Heh. . . Sorry about that again," You apologize. "It's getting late, you should sleep in. Those painkillers I gave you can only do so much to help your headache." You get up and grab another blanket next to him.

Carl stood up straight. "Hey wait— ugh." He groaned in pain and frustration and grabs his head from the pain in his head from moving too fast. Okay, maybe he didn't think that through. But he'd be stupid if he let the literal girl of his dreams sleep on the floor. "Let me sleep there, okay? I'm the one intruding." He tries standing up, but the only he achieved was stumbling up a little and sitting back down.

"What? No–! Absolutely not." You scoff, grabbing his shoulders, firm and stubbornly.

"I can't let you sleep on the hardwood floor, Carl. You're hurt. And that's bad guest etiquette, Especially when you feels like your head's cracked open." You say. Even with all you said, all Carl could focus on was when you said his name. It flowed so serenely out of your mouth, like it belonged. He didn't know why, but he wanted to hear it more from you.

"You can't be serious." Despite Carl being in pain, the sassy tone he always had when talking could never be covered by it.

"Just stop trying to be a gentleman right now and just focus on getting better," You uttered to him, with a tone that spoke you didn't want anything else and this was final. "Got it?" Carl liked this side of you, even with you pointing a gun at his face, all he could think about was how it was pretty charming.

Something he never really got to experience in his dreams— and realized he liked about you— was your bossy tone. Although, it couldn't really be called demanding if the person saying it didn't have anything to back it up. In the end, it just made you look endearing, trying to seem all authoritarian.

"I'll try." He sighed, before laying back down on the bed— with you copying his actions, taking your bag then putting it next to the bed. You had laid down, fluffing the backpack like a pillow and opening your blanket, scrunching into a ball to cover most of your body.

"Goodnight, Carl. Sorry for knocking you out." You said before turning the other way and shutting your eyes. Carl slowly looked at the your lying figure, before deciding to sleep also.

". . . I— Goodnight, Y/N." Carl said, before turning the other way. That was the first time he said your name. Without even knowing it, he said your name so softly. Even if you don't want it to, it makes your cheeks flush. You're happy you turned the other way, you don't want him to possibly see you blush just 'cause he said your name.

Carl fell asleep faster than he normally would. Maybe it was the painful headache he had, or was it because he was next to you? He'd rather not think about it, it'll add more fuel to the fire of questions he already had about the girl. But as fast he fell asleep, he woke up just as quick as well. With fluttering eyes, getting used to the blinding light that was seeping through the curtains, his eyes adjusted to the scene.

He looked around— and just like yesterday, it was all still the same. Same house, same bed, and the same pounding headache he had. Now he was sure he wasn't dreaming. But the one thing he was trying to find wasn't there just like he expected to. You weren't there.

Where did you go? Carl slowly stood up and put a hand to his head. You were right, it'll hurt worse than it did yesterday. He was starting to internally panic. He was silently praying, begging for a sign that you were real. Anything just so he could believe what he experienced yesterday wasn't just his imagination.

But before he can scour his mind for answers on where you were, it's like you heard him— pleading in his mind that you would show up, just to see you again. You opened the door, then closed it shut. Your movements halting when you see him standing now, looking at you, visibly worried. 'What happened to him while I was away?'

"Are you okay? You look anxious." You put what you were holding— a water container and your bow on the table in the cabin and walked closer to him.

"Yeah, I— I was just wondering where you went." He cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets. He had never really talked to a girl his age before other than Enid, but this was different. He was talking to a girl he actually liked. So given that, his social skills were at an all time low.

"I was getting more water. You were worried about that?" You were starting to grow a smile. He was getting worried about you, and for whatever reason, that made your heart feel fuzzy and mind go blank.

"Where'd you put my gun?" Carl dodged the question. He'd rather not get into him getting troubled about his dream girl right now, so he wanted to know where his weapon was. He patted himself down, trying to look more preoccupied.

"Huh, yeah sure. It's in here." You dismissed your teasing tone, getting his gun out of your bag. "I wasn't sure if you'd attack me when I get home, so I just brought it with me. Take it." You hold the barrel in you hand, holding it out to him.

Carl pauses, before taking it and observing the gun, releasing the magazine from the chamber and checking its ammo before putting it back and placing it in his holster.

"Thanks." He sees you moving back to the table.

"Where are you going?" He asks. It confuses you, what did he mean by that? "I'm. . . getting my bow?" You say as if it was the most obvious thing ever. What is he trying to say?

"No— I know that. I mean like where are you going after," He gestures with his head to the whole cabin they were in. "This?"

Your body freezes, why would he ask you that? Did he want to come with you? You scratch the back of your neck in boredom, before answering his question.

"I dunno? I just keep moving. That's all I ever do. Nothing I ever stay in holds up, so better stay safe than sorry." Your answer gives him an idea. Maybe you could stay with him in Alexandria?

"This is sudden, and we just met briefly yesterday but," He looks at you intently. "Do you want to come with me? We have a place, it has walls and a home. You could stay with us." Us? There were more of him? How lucky was he that he had people that were trustworthy around him that he could confidently deem where he was as safe?

You think about it. You really needed a safe place to stay, and he seemed focused on letting you come with him. But you didn't want to trust him fully yet. You know better than to just blindly trust people in this world.

"Take me out for dinner first, geez—" You quip. You want to come with him, but you're still on the fence about everything. "I'll think about it. For now, i'll stay here. M'kay?"

You decide that maybe he'd want to visit you, but you suggest it just in case he was thinking something else. "You can visit me anytime, cowboy." Saying that, you grab the hat he was wearing first time you met and put it in his grasp.

He looked at his hands with the hat, and you. He was still kind of sad you didn't want to come with him, but he understood why. He was still a stranger, no less. But with you saying you didn't mind that he could visit you whenever made him feel a little more chipper than usual.

"I will." He smiled at you and put his hat on. "I'll get going now, the people where i'm from are probably scared shitless about me." Carl was telling the truth— Rick probably was tearing anyone apart just to find where his son was right now. You laughed a little at that. Still, it made him feel good knowing he made you laugh, be it a small one but a laugh still.

"Sure, your stuff's next to the door." You point to where his bag is. "I didn't take anything, don't worry." And just as he looked through the bag, your words had ringed to be right.

And he sees something else; it was a map showing your cabin and the way back to the town you both were in. He looks at you, and even with the uncomfortable hammering in his head he still needed to see you again. But he remembers he really should back to Alexandria.

"Thanks. I'll come back for you." His words were light, but it was more than that. It was a promise to you, whether you wanted to acknowledge that it was or not. It made you giddy, he'd be coming back for you.

"Well, when you do—" Walking up to him close, "You know where to find me." You take his other hand and open it, putting in a protein bar before closing his palm. You gave it to him, just a goodbye souvenir. It was a throwaway though, only giving it to him so he could have something so he could eat (but you actually just want him to think about you when he eats it).

"And i'll know where to look." He gazes down at you, relaxed from just seeing you. You were actually real. "See you." He smiles at you. Carl's heart felt like it was going soft, all from you and your fleeting touches— gentle and caring. Your teasing tone and nature made him feel like he wants to stay here forever, never wanting it to end.

But he knows he'll have to wait, going out the door and waving back to you. You wave back and go back to what you were doing. He's overjoyed— the dream girl he always wondered who was, was you.

He swore he'd make you come with him, but all he had to do was wait. This wasn't going to be the last time you see each other— because he isn't going to let his dream girl go that easily, not this time, not ever again.

I didn't even realize how long I made this one! wowiee this was such a cute fic, i'll make a part 2 to this, let me know if you want one ! also might take me until next week to make a part 2 to "so high", just figuring some school stuff out :3 ✮⋆˙

tags : @carlslvr @shadowybasementmiracle

wanna be tagged the next time I post my fics? let me know ꩜ .ᐟ

[oneknightstand-if]

One Knight Stand Update 4

Chapter 2 Part 3 - The Forest & the Warehouse

Featuring...

Merlin's Guide to Minor Neutral Parties

New text messages and phone calls from non-dead people you haven't ghosted. And maybe some not-so-living ones too.

MC may appear on TV! This might not be a good thing. And they aren't the only one, cameo appearances from a future RO

Duel of AoE spells while frolicking through the magical forest. Your past decisions totally can't bite you in the ass here.

Attempt to summon Cthulhu. Dance the macarena. Have I mentioned posterior-biting consequences here?

Also an abandoned industrial warehouse is the best place for a leisurely stopover.

Icebreaker games stop staring at the noises with mini stat boosts as prizes!

Oh yeah, RO #4 finally joins the crew.

Before you play the game with an old save, you'll want to clear your cache for the oneknightstand.co website and then check that the game's frontpage is displaying Version 0.23. Then after loading the save, check the Status Page to make sure that your stats haven't reset back to the default ?¿?¿?¿.

If your variables have reset back to the default, then unfortunately that save file has corrupted (it happens to the best of us for unfathomable reasons) and you'll have to reload another save file. It you try to play the game through a corrupted save, you'll just get a bunch of non-existent errors. Please do the entire clear cache + confirm non-corrupted save file before reporting any potential errors. Then report the errors... all the errors!

Play the Updated Beta Test

(Since there were bugs & typos still reported & fixed throughout Chapter 1 & 2, your current saves are probably going to reset to the beginning of each section of the game. If things get too wonky, you might want to try restarting from the beginning. )

Additional Word Count (Sans Code): 84,000+

Additional Word Count (With Code): 107,000+

New Total Word Count (Sans Code): 900,000+

New Total Word Count (With Code): 1,227,000+

Average Playthrough: ~70,000+ words

Note: You can view the game code on my site the same way you do on Dashingdon just add /scenes to the end of the URL.

Link to New Polls on the Update (Which don't auto close in a week like the Tumblr ones)

Next Update

Merlin's Guide to Minor Unavailable (the final part of the guide! 🥳)

The first appearance of the Free Time Hub (god help me) Featuring...

Getting romantic with Merlin

Having The Relationship Talk with Adrian

Doing stuff with RO #4 because they're totally here now

Getting help with that entire changeling, amnesiac, lucid dreamer thing

Researching suspicious things you've noticed up to this point

Boosting those stats (with the help of the ROs if you can't bear to be away from them for a few minutes)

Also quick reminder that the Alpha Build of the game on Patreon updates as I complete each section, so the first part of Merlin's Free Time section is already available.

[ataleofcrowns]

Note On Previous Chapters

Wanted let you all know ahead of time, while I'm writing CH12 I've decided to add some important coding updates to previous chapters. Namely the checks that involve the Crown's security, which impacts what happens in CH9, and their relationships with the nobles and the public.

I wasn't very experienced with handling so many different variables at once when I first designed these systems, so in hindsight I can see that it has come at the expense of clarity on which choices contribute to which outcomes.

Particularly the Crown's security and how the choices you make in CH6 connect to the outcome in CH9 have been bothering me, so I'm going to endeavor to clean it up a bit, as well as add some more hints in CH9's text to indicate which choices may have lead to the outcome you get. I noticed that I also changed the variables involved in those decisions somewhere later along the way, but I seem to have forgotten to go back and update previous chapters--so some of the choices you make regarding that sequence haven't been registering properly lol.

Thankfully, the benefit of AToC being a WIP is that I can go back and edit stuff without feeling bad about it!!

You may want to replay the game starting from CH5 if possible once CH12 releases (I can't tell you when that will be other than before the end of the year haha), in order to update the stats correctly so you don't run into any bugs. But I'll remind you of it again once the chapter releases, too.

Mostly I know some players have remarked that the transparency regarding those choices was lacking, so I wanted them to know that I'm working on the issue!!

Thank you for your patience 💖

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, boothill and dr ratio with a s/o who's a detective? :3

Detective on the clock!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Detective!Reader, Crime-solving, Witty Banter, Partnership, Mystery, Tension, Fluff, Adventure.

Warnings: Mild Language, Implied Violence, Mentions Of Crime And Investigation, Action, Slight Angst In Boothill's Storyline.

The soft chime of the clock struck midnight as you studied the crime scene evidence, furrowing your brow in concentration. Just as the details started to piece together, a figure slid into the room, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Late night again, love?” Aventurine’s smooth voice broke the silence, accompanied by the gentle scent of his cologne as he leaned against your desk, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Some people work for a living,” you replied, sparing him a quick, affectionate smile. “Unlike a certain risk-taker who plays the stock market as if it’s a card game.”

Aventurine chuckled, feigning an offended gasp. “Why, I’ll have you know that every investment is as strategic as a chess move. And speaking of strategy…” He slid a small, folded paper across your desk. “I managed to get some information that might help with that case of yours. A little gift, courtesy of the IPC.”

You took the paper, heart thumping as the details unfolded. It was a lead you’d been searching for. “Aventurine… how did you even get this?”

“Do you really want to know?” He grinned, pushing his glasses up. “Or are you happy with the result?”

You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Sometimes, I think you’re the better detective.”

“Maybe,” he mused with a wink. “But I’d rather leave the real mysteries in your capable hands.”

Together, you returned to your work—one a master of risks, the other a seeker of truth, blending your strengths to bring the shadows into the light.

The galaxy's starry expanse flickered beyond the viewport as Boothill silently reloaded his revolver, checking each chamber with practiced ease. You leaned back, arms folded, watching his every move.

“Any idea what’s waiting for us down there?” you asked, squinting at the worn map on the dashboard. The old freighter rumbled beneath you, navigating its way through treacherous asteroid fields toward the IPC's latest outpost.

Boothill's sharp teeth flashed in a grin. “Justice, sweetheart. That’s all that’s waiting. And maybe a little trouble, if I’m lucky.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. “Lucky, huh? You mean reckless.”

“That, too,” he drawled, glancing over his shoulder at you. “That’s why I have you, my little detective. Keepin’ me on the straight and narrow.” His eyes gleamed with affection. “Mostly.”

“Someone has to,” you said, crossing the room to stand beside him. “I may not have your… firepower, but I’d like to think my detective instincts are keeping us both alive.”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “Those instincts of yours are sharper than any blade. Once we hit that outpost, keep your eyes open. They’ll have what we need, but I’ll need you watching my back.”

And with a quick, heated kiss, you both turned back to the task at hand—a vengeful cowboy and his vigilant detective, prepared to bring justice to every shadowed corner of the galaxy.

The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in your office. You sifted through case files, piecing together the fragments of an unsolvable mystery. Every clue, every lead pointed toward an unknown answer—until a soft knock at your door made you look up

There he stood: Dr. Veritas Ratio, the renowned genius, a glint of amusement lighting his features. He entered, a scroll of notes in hand. “I heard,” he said in that calm, assured voice, “you were looking for a missing variable.”

You blinked in surprise. “Are you offering help?”

“I’m offering insight,” he replied, placing his notes before you with a flourish. “Intuition, as you call it, though I prefer ‘scientific deduction.’”

You scanned the pages, the tiny puzzle pieces starting to fall into place with Ratio’s guidance. “You did this for me?”

He tilted his head, almost as if the thought of not helping you was absurd. “A detective’s work is not all that different from mine—chasing truth, unraveling the unknown. Besides, I find it... intellectually stimulating.” His hand brushed yours lightly as he took a seat beside you, eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of passion. “Together, I believe we might solve anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then let’s crack this case, shall we?”

And as you both leaned over the papers, minds entwined in a dance of logic and intuition, you felt grateful for the brilliant man who saw mystery in the ordinary and in you, his remarkable detective.

[infamous-if]

✮ CH. 2 PART I ✮ 92k (+86k) -> 178k ✮

PLAY CHAPTER 2: PART I

It's here! First, sorry for the long wait. Chapter 2 has proven to be a behemoth, and I'd gotten sick this past week, my computer broke, my documents went kaput and I had to do some Frankensteining for the last few pages of this part. I'm not too worried, as Part II update can help smooth out all the kinks. I will definitely be looking for beta testers once chapter 2 is complete ha

Anywho! Enough about my problems. This demo update adds 86k words (86, 818 to be exact) and is the first part of a two part chapter. Which means the narrative in this chapter is not complete, but I kind of closed it off at a pretty satisfying place. As with every Infamous chapter, this is very character driven. So have fun!

What to expect in Chapter Two PART I:

get on the bus & deal with the consequences of your actions lol

arrive to your first tour stop and do your first gig...which might get messy (both literally and figuratively)

hang with a familiar father and daughter duo

have some heart to hearts/ some cheeky little POV passages

meet more BOTB crew and learn exactly what's in store for you this season

get roped in some ValenReign mess !

Maintenance:

this chapter has a lot of flavor text, or at least, more than the demo did, so if there are any errors or if there are lines that don't correspond with your choices, please let me know so i can fix that!

you will no longer be forced to write your own lyrics and the update will offer you pre-written lyrics by yours truly. im not t swift so i would advise you not to expect professional level songwriting, but they work well enough lolol

lyrics page is up as well as stats, but i don't really like the system i used to balance it, mostly because new...stat things will be added as the story goes on, so that's still getting reworked. still, good enough for now, as there are some personality stat checks!

Prologue and Chapter 1 errors/typos/grammatical bits fixed. (Wouldn't be surprised if I missed some though...) + variables updated.

Scenes not showing up fixed. hopefully, that huge error in which it throws you back to the fight after returning to the house is fixed (It was a bit wonky for me, hopefully it works for everyone else)

Stat and relationship pages updated ( + lyric page to look back at all your lyrics).

Can choose to be asexual and any sexual scenes will be skipped or replaced with romantic scenes. Flavor text in which MC displays any sort of sexual desire will be skipped. (This option comes up during Dakota's party scene. If not, it will show up when it presents itself again.) (Nothing sexual has come up yet, but if there are any scenes or even lines/ internal thoughts that should be skipped or changed for Asexual MCs, please let me know!)

If there are errors or anything, im always open. I've play tested but you girl is always prone to errors. As always, thank you for your love and enthusiasm! It makes me really happy and motivates me to keep writing ! <3

(Also, if you're thinking "omg amy how did you go from 65k to 86k?!" i don't want to talk about it /j)

See you on tour!

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | monster fucking

pairing | steve rogers x fairy!reader

warnings | me knowing nothing about fairies. reader is in "fairy heat"? bruce captured reader (potentially inhumane conditions for fairy-keeping?) soft sweet steve. size kink LOL. th-thumb riding? fingering. p-pinky fucking? stretching. multiple orgasms. squirting. praise and encouragement that makes me feral. pity kink? is that a thing? if it is, i think i have it.

word count | 1,225

an | i've never written monster fucking (or really anything super fantasy-oriented) so please be kind!! wasn't expecting to get sooo into this, but like there's just something about reader being literally so tiny that steve's pinky stuffs her to the brim that's making me all 🥲🫠😩

what if bruce was off working in some top-secret remote location and brought you back with him: a sweet little fairy he'd captured while working out in the field, just as you were entering your fairy heat 🫠

maybe you're just about 7 inches tall, with the body/proportions of a grown young woman. he's been conducting research on your species for quite some time, so he's able to determine basics like your age, your likely place of origin, etc. he's thrilled to have caught you at the start of your heat

what's your fairy heat? i made that part up simple, it's the span of several days that occur around the same time every month when your body's at its prime and looking to breed. you become insatiably horny, almost to the point of it being debilitating, and all you can focus on during your excruciating waking moments is fucking yourself on anything of appropriate size in sight

you're kept in some sort of incubator in his lab, a glass box that's a few feet by a few feet wide and deep. the bottom of the enclosure is made of a soft cushiony material, making any spot a good spot to lay down and rest. miniature food and water bowls are set out for you, and a bright lamp hanging from the ceiling of the box shines 12 hours a day. it's a pretty miserable existence, your makeshift habitat nothing close to the wide open flower fields and prairies you're used to, but it allows the scientist to observe you closely without any distractions or interfering variables. and since you're in heat, you aren't too worried about where you are or who's taken you. all you can do is writhe around on the soft floor of the incubator in desperate, horny agony

maybe one day bruce is out of the lab, but he told steve he could come check out his new findings and maybe keep you company if you'd let him. when he enters the room and sees you lying there, squirming and struggling weakly, of course the supersoldier's heart is instantly hurting for you 🥺

he approaches the incubator slowly, not wanting to startle you. but pretty quickly he realizes that you're paying him no mind; you're too preoccupied with your discomfort. he takes his time observing you, standing right in front of the glass box as his huge frame towers over you. bruce told him a little about your condition and the science behind it. it made him blush, but he accepted it like he would learning about any other species and their unique reproductive habits

"poor thing," he hums to himself as he watches your tiny body wriggle in distress. he's stunned by how pretty you are. you have the most delicate little face, and your translucent wings with their iridescent shimmer look like something straight out of a fairytale movie. you're completely naked- bruce removed your scraps of moss carpeting and leaf clothing when he found you. but it's not strange or offputting in the slightest to steve. he just thinks you're beautiful, such a stunning little creature that seems too precious for this world 💕

he notices the plugged openings in the glass wall that allow bruce to reach in and work inside the enclosure. carefully removing the rubber inserts, he reaches a large hand in, wanting to offer you some comfort if you'll take it. you're so tiny that you could nearly crawl right into the palm of his hand and curl up if you wanted to

but snuggles are the last thing you're looking for in this moment. when you see his huge hand lying there, palm up just a short distance away from you, you weakly crawl over, wings drooping in exhaustion. you couldn't fly at the moment if you tried

steve is a little surprised as you hoist yourself up onto his thumb, your tiny legs dangling on either side of it. it only takes him a moment to realize what you're doing- his cheeks turn bright red as you begin rolling your hips desperately, a faint feeling of wetness forming on the pad of his finger as you leak your glistening juices all over him

"oh doll-" his voice is dripping with pity and concern. he doesn't try to stop you, just watches as you so needily try to relieve yourself. as strange as the situation is, he can't help but find your primal actions endearing, in a way

he continues watching sympathetically as you grind your tiny little pussy down against his large digit. his heart swells at the way you place your hands down in front of you, trying to keep yourself upright as you rock at a steady pace. just a few moments later, he sees your little body spasming and realizes you've reached orgasm by merely riding along on his finger. "oh my," he hums thoughtfully, watching as your precious little toes curl in delight

your face is much happier after your climax. steve watches curiously to see what you'll do next, staying silent as you climb off of his thumb and move to the other end of his splayed-out fingers. as you lie yourself down on your back and spread your legs out on either side of his pinky, he's again blushing deeply. "o-oh, hey little one-"

he watches as you begin pushing down to press the tip of his smallest finger up against your leaking hole. seeing how much you struggle to maneuver against him, steve takes even more pity on you. "here, doll. let me help," he decides, bringing his other arm through the unused hole in the glass. he moves it over to lift your back up gently, supporting you in a sitting position as he carefully begins easing his smallest digit up into you, smiling affectionately as you let out a soft sigh of relief

"there you go. that's it," he's murmuring encouragingly as he carefully fucks you with his pinky. your little pussy is so tight around him, he's surprised he's able to fit. but you're taking him so well, and there's something so sweet about the way you look as you sit here in his hands, letting him stretch you out over the smallest finger he has 💕

"good, just like that" "such a pretty little thing you are" "that feel good, doll?" "just keep taking it, sweetheart" "so good for me, keep going" he's not sure if you can understand his words, but there's something he finds satisfying about talking to you this way

he can somehow feel your second orgasm approaching, your walls growing a bit tighter around him as he works up his pace a little more to carry you over the edge. "there," he's humming proudly, smiling as you manage to squirt out forcefully against him. your come ✨literally sparkles✨ as it coats his finger

as you're floating down from your high, he strokes your hair with his thumb as you lean up against the rest of his hand that's behind you. your eyes are droopy, your body no longer writhing in discomfort. as questionable as his actions might've been, it's clear he's taken care of much of your discomfort- at least for now

whyyy was this hot 🫠🫠 maybe i need to write fantasy shit more often lol

[playdat]

A salesman obsessed with his wife, pleasee 🙏🙏

the Salesman × wife reader

the salesman obsessed with his wife

He didn’t know exactly when it started.

Maybe it was that first morning you walked past him wearing nothing but his button-down and one sock, yawning as you searched for your hair tie.

Maybe it was when you laughed—not politely, not prettily, but loudly, snorting, nose-wrinkling—at some stupid joke he didn’t even think was funny. And he caught himself smiling.

Or maybe it was the night you got sick, hair matted to your face, cheeks pale, too weak to sit up—and still apologized for not making dinner.

He told you that you were ridiculous. Then sat beside your bed the entire night, counting your breaths.

------------------------------------------------------

Now?

Now it had gotten worse.

He couldn't not look for you.

Every room he entered, his eyes would scan automatically—seeking out your shape, your scent, the whisper of your footsteps on the floorboards.

When you weren’t home, he checked the time constantly. Checked his phone. Lit cigarettes he didn’t even smoke. Punched numbers into his card deck and never played a single hand.

He watched you without realizing it.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were annoyed.

How you talked to plants like they were old friends.

The way you licked the spoon before putting it in the sink, even when he told you not to.

The tiny scar on your knee you never explained.

The books you never finished.

The way your breath hitched when he kissed the back of your neck—just once—without warning.

He memorized all of it.

------------------------------------------------------

One night, you came home late. Unannounced. Just an hour past your usual time.

You weren’t wearing makeup. You looked tired. A little windswept.

“Where were you?” he asked, too quickly.

You blinked. “Dinner with my sister. I told you yesterday, remember?”

He didn’t remember.

But instead of admitting that, he just gave a short nod and stepped aside.

Then he watched you walk past him. Counted each step.

His jaw ticked as he saw a faint crease in your blouse. Had someone touched you? Brushed against your coat? Had you smiled at a waiter? Had they smiled back?

He hated the thoughts.

But he couldn’t stop them.

------------------------------------------------------

Later, when you were asleep, curled on your side with your mouth slightly open, your breathing slow—he sat beside you. Just watching.

His fingers hovered over your temple. Over your cheek.

He didn’t touch.

He didn’t want to wake you.

But he needed to see you.

So still. So unaware.

You’d never understand the way you consumed him.

How much space you took in his head, in his chest.

He was a man built on games, probability, power.

But you were the one variable he couldn’t control.

And that terrified him.

And he loved it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[chronicowboy]

Maddie humbles him pretty severely in their conversation. Look, he knows it's stupid, knows it's selfish really, knows it's just plain crappy of him. But. But he hurt Christopher. And there wasn't some big uncontrollable variable like a tsunami that Eddie can explain it away with.

Sure, it was an accident, but it still happened. Sure, it was only a few scrapes that he'd cleaned up almost immediately with the little first aid kit tucked into the glove compartment of his Jeep - and, well, maybe part of the guilt is the way Christopher had grimaced at the added sting of the antiseptic wipes. But he'd done it. He'd made Christopher cry. And he'd ran as soon as Eddie swept in to take care of him. He'd ran before either of them could tell him to get out.

Christopher is injured, and Buck hasn't been to see him once. Christopher is injured because of Buck, and he's only checked in through a much too knowing Eddie. Because he's a coward, especially when it comes to Christopher. Jesus, nothing in the world scares him more than Christopher. Everything's so big and inconceivable with him. Buck feels it all, feels it all so strongly. The things he'd do for that kid... Well, that scares him too. Almost as much as Christopher's anger does, but he can't run from it forever. He can't stay away forever, so he shoots Eddie a quick text as he leaves Maddie's.

Can I come see Chris at some point?

He's just buckling himself into the driver's seat when his phone buzzes with a reply.

Get over here

Another buzz.

Now

His already knotted stomach twists into an even more complex shape as he turns the key in the ignition, but he has to face the music some time or another. May as well be now.

It takes him an inordinately long and nauseating time to get to the Diaz door, an even longer time to actually knock and then a terrifyingly short amount of time for Eddie to be appearing before him with those big, understanding eyes he can never seem to escape.

"Hi," he mumbles, suddenly struck with what image he must make out there on the porch. A naughty dog with a guiltily hung head and a tail between his legs just waiting to be patted on the head and told he's forgiven.

"Buck, come in." Eddie rolls his eyes and practically drags him inside. Buck had been about ninety-nine per cent sure (okay, maybe more like eighty) that Eddie's texts had been fond exasperation and not actual anger, but it's not until he hears Eddie's voice that he knows for sure. He was never a bad dog in Eddie's mind. Buck's tail wags just a little as Eddie leans back against the hallway wall with his arms folded over his chest. "He's in his room and he misses his Buck."

"Even after I almost killed him?" he mutters petulantly.

"Buck, you tripped over his crutches. The both of you went down and, honestly, you walked away worse than he did." Buck opens his mouth to argue, but Eddie ploughs on. "Don't lie to me. I saw those bruises on your ribs last shift. I know how weaponised those elbows can become."

"I'm fine."

"So is he," Eddie says seriously. "You know how many times I've tripped over his crutches?"

"Did you feel guilty about it afterwards?" Buck pries, eyes trained on his shoes where they kick lightly, sheepishly at the carpet.

"Of course, I did. I always do. Hell, I accidentally got some salt in his eyes when we were cooking the other day and I almost took myself down to Athena's station." Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. "I'm his dad, I'd send him outside in a bubble wrap suit if I could. But I've been informed that isn't 'cool'," Buck snorts, "so I'm trying my best to make peace with the fact that that he's going to get hurt and I'm not always going to be stop it. But." Eddie steps closer, drops a hand to Buck's shoulder, ducks his hand to catch his eye. And Buck feels the echo of a wave and three ragged scratches across his face. "But I can always be there after it happens, to pick him back up and tend to his wounds, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck whispers, nodding against the whirring of his brain.

"He's already mostly healed up. Go and see for yourself." Eddie leaves with a pointed look at Christopher's door, and Buck stays staring down the hallway like he can will it into something that feels a little less like a walk on the plank.

As he takes his first step, for just a moment, he wishes he was back in the endless labyrinthine hallways of his coma dream just to postpone his fate a little longer.

See, what he hadn't told Maddie was that he had actually tried texting Christopher a few days after their tumble. A sorry and an I hope you're okay and a jokey maybe we should leave basketball to the pros which had only gleaned a thumbs up emoji in response. So, he's not feeling very optimistic when he knocks on Christopher's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Buck, buddy." Silence. A sigh maybe, if he strains. "C-can I come in?"

Another pause.

"Fine."

Buck pushes into the room with his heart in his throat. Christopher doesn't look up from his textbook where he's propped up against his headboard, just carries on reading. Buck approaches carefully, hovering at the end of the bed where he'd normally just sit.

"How are you doing?" he asks uselessly.

"Fine."

"Yeah?" Christopher only shrugs, and Buck sighs in defeat. "I'm really sorry, bud. I didn't mean to do it, you have to know that. I'd never ever do anything to hurt you-"

"Wait." Chris finally looks up from his book with his frown. "Do you think I'm mad because you tripped me up?"

"I-I, well, yeah." Buck blinks. "So, you are mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad, but not about that." Chris groans and slams his book shut. "Why'd you disappear?"

"B-because I thought you'd be mad at me for, you know, hurting you," Buck says dumbly. Christopher rolls his eyes so similarly to Eddie's earlier expression that Buck aches with it.

"You didn't hurt me. Gravity hurt us."

"But you're mad at me."

"Because you disappeared!" Chris bursts. Buck's mouth snaps shut with a click. "Everything's changing. You and me and dad barely ever hang out anymore. And I know I'm getting older, so I shouldn't want to, but I do. But you're both dating, so it's always just the one of you. Or the three of us and a stranger. And I hate it. And the last time this happened, you promised you weren't going anywhere, but you did! And I want you both to be happy, and I really don't want dad to feel so lonely now I'm growing up, but I wish..." Christopher ducks his head as if suddenly realising he'd revealed too much.

"You wish?" Buck asks on the exhale of a breath he'd been holding since Christopher's little outburst, something fierce and jagged latching itself to his sternum.

"I wish you both could be happy with..." He shrinks into himself a little, and Buck wraps his hand around the footboard like a lifeline - like whatever Christopher is about to say will turn the world upside down. "I wish this was enough. I wish the three of us could make you both as happy as-as it makes me." He flushes and cracks his textbook open. "It sounds dumb when I say it."

"No, no," Buck croaks, something big and unwieldy expanding against the inside of his ribs, something that could choke him if he let it. "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 3

As always, character consistency is hard for me. Just go with it.

I wake up again. Every time I wake up, I have about a minute of peace before my brain starts to boot and realizes where it is. That minute of bliss is what has kept me going recently. It's the only part of the day when I don't feel so… Wrong.

Waking up unwillingly, I go to the bathroom to wash my face. When I arrive, I realize it's been about a week after the car crash and I still can't get used to seeing Roy when I look in the mirror.

I study my new reflection. I stare at my skin blemishes on Roy's dark skin. My big Brown eyes underneath my thick eyebrows. My nose in the middle of the face that is now mine… When I open my mouth to brush my teeth, I see a crooked array of yellowish rectangles. I cringe realizing I'm actually tasting Roy's mouth and teeth 24/7. Roy didn't have a spare toothbrush, so I had to use his old one. Disgusting. I hate this so much. Why doesn't he take care of himself?

When I return to his room to get dressed, I sigh in frustration. During the last few days, I finally understood why Roy felt comfortable walking around without his shirt on. I was just too hot. ALL THE TIME. The meat and fat of his stocky body type kept the heat trapped within me. If I had a shirt on for more than 5 minutes I would start sweating and smell Roy's scent even more.

So just like he did, I elected to spend the day shirtless again. It's not like anyone would see me. Well except for… Me.

After trying to explain to Roy in my body what happened, he's gotten cold. I mean, I would too. I was practically begging him to remember, but when I'm in Roy's body, it's pretty hard to convince someone who he really is.

"I'm coming back late." He states in a premeditatedly cold intonation. "Ok," I reply in the same manner. I didn't see the point to initiate another argument. convincing him is impossible. "I might bring someone back with me. Please don't be weird when she's here." "Ok. I reply again. But missing any sense of my old self, I ask: "Someone I know?" "None of your business Roy." I cringe at the sound of that name. "And also, you don't know any of my friends. They're MY friends. Even if you… Think otherwise…" He goes out, leaving me alone in the flat.

Like a punch in the fucking gut.

Which reminded me, I'm hungry. I order an extra-large Pizza so Roy's stomach would leave me alone. Roy had an apatite I couldn't ignore easily. At first, I fought off his habits, unwilling to accept the new situation. But as the days went on, I gave in to most of Roy's habits. Like eating too much of this junk. I look at my body and feel shame as I admit I lost the battle against Roy's needs.

Later, I lay on the sofa, investigating Roy's phone. Thankfully, he locked his phone with Face ID, so I didn't have to guess any passwords and was able to unlock it. Every time I have some time off, I study his phone and learn a bit more about Roy's schedule and connections.

You see, I did swap bodies with him, but I didn't acquire his memories. So, I try to avoid all contact until I get the hang of whatever relationships he had in his life. "Yes, it's me. I'm Roy." I say to myself, trying to fake his tone. Even though I hear his voice, it still feels fake.

But today, after going through all his texts, I began looking through his notes app. I find there grocery lists, names of bands he wanted to check out, some foreign language I still can't read, and also something with the title… "Research"? What's this?

I open the file and my eyes widen. It's a long note, riddled with an assortment of semi-related bullet points regarding… "POWERS"!?

POWERS

possible timed cooldown? variable? Tested times: 5 days (17/05) 8 days (15/09) 6 days (12/11)

only post 24h mark???

ignore. no cooldown. instance of instant swap back. There's another condition.

Note the eye glow at optional swap time. Starts fading. Possible relation to condition?

Ignore. Doesn't fade.

Best swap triggers: visualize face, focus on identity

He was researching his swapping power. I guess Roy didn't receive a handbook with this ability, so he tried to mark the triggers and limitations he confirmed to be true. This was a goldmine. Maybe there's a limit on how long we can stay swapped?

Wait. If I'm Roy… I have his powers! I can swap us back!

I read the whole file, attempting to figure out exactly what conclusions Roy had and what I needed to do to return to my body. It looks like he could just will the swaps to make them happen, but there was some sort of condition that prevented swapping back at some times. Roy named it "The Condition", and going by his note, he didn't figure out what it was.

I immediately try to follow his technique and will the swap to come. I visualize my body, focus on my identity, but 20 minutes later, I'm still stuck in Roy's flesh. When I looked in the mirror, I still see his regular brown eyes. No glow or anything.

Does this 'condition' he mentioned apply to my situation? Am I just a moment away from retrieving my life back? I need to figure out what it is.

Going over Roy's notes I began piecing together a picture of Roy's swapping experiences. Some were willing, some were not. Some were functional, but some were for no reason at all other than to swap. But after a few hours of going over the cases, I started noticing a pattern.

While swaps were able to occur at any time, reverse swaps would never work on days of a full moon or new moon! That's the only explanation! It fits in every swap Roy documented in this file. This must be it!

But then I stop. Wait, today isn't a full or new moon. Why am I not able to swap us back?

A new fear rushes in as I hear the apartment door open. "Yeah, and then we… Oh, hey Roy," says Roy in my body accompanied by a girl I used to know. She waves politely at me with a certain reservation. I guess he warned her about me… "So it's the last door on the left." He points to the bathroom. "Thanks. It'll be just a minute." She says, closing the door after her.

Roy in my body leans silently on the wall, checking his phone for messages while he waits for her to finish. I look at him with envy.

But then I see it. His eyes. That Glow. It was subtle, but it was definitely there.

I don't have Roy's swapping power.

He does.

It swapped along with his body.

Tears start forming in my eyes as I realize the only hope I had of getting back was never an option. Roy looks up from his phone to me. Seeing my pathetic face in ruin. He makes an expression I can't decipher. Maybe empathy, but probably pity.

My friend exits the bathroom. "Hey," Roy turns to her. "Wait for me in the car, ok? I need to close a small thing with Roy. "Sure. Don't be long." She said going out the door. "I won't." He answers.

We look at each other for a few quiet moments. "Listen, are you gay or something?" "What?" I ask confused. Still in tears. "You want to be me. You cry when you see me with girls. I can add 2 plus 2 you know." "Fucking ass." I spit out. He duped me into this mess. He should rot in hell. "Don't be a bitch man. This can't-" "Bitch!??" I cut him off. "This is all your fault! I'm like this because of you!"

I charge towards him. I'm stuck like this because of him! I needed him to know how much I suffer because of his recklessness! But Roy was quick enough to get out of the way.

"Ok Roy. Fine. You started this." "Fuck off!"

I charge again, and Roy slips to the side again. I stumble and crash onto the living room floor and feel great pain in my back. I scream in pain and frustration. This fucking weight. I start sweating again and smell Roy's body stench, but I can't concentrate on it. I feel my body grounded by another body.

"That's IT Roy!" He yells at me from above. He prevents me from getting up. God dammit why didn't Roy ever go to the gym? "Get off of me!" I shout. "Say your name." He commands me as I struggle. "Say your name Roy." "I'm telling you! I'm not Roy!" I cry out. "It's the deal man, it's the swap deal!"

My face explodes with massive pain. Roy punched me in the fucking face.

"SAY YOUR NAME." "You can still have it! You can still swap us back! Please! Remember!"

Bam. Another one. I hear my nose crack and start feeling the blood.

"This is going to keep happening until you say your fucking name Roy." "You're hurting me! Please! Your eyes! I can tell you have your power!"

This time it was a punch from the right. My head is spinning.

"You know what? Even if I did have this power, I would never swap with you!" He shouts at me. "You are PATHETIC." Punch. "You stay to slob at home. You have no friends. You're an ugly motherfucker that can't even accept who he is!" Another punch.

But he's right. This is me now. I can say whatever I want but the fact remains. I'm in his body, and I'm here. Permanently. And even if he could swap us, he will never do it after this."

"For the last time. Say. Your. Name." "Roy." I whimper. "Louder." "Roy." "Now the whole sentence. Shithead" "My name is Roy."

He lifts me and pushes me in front of a full-length mirror.

"Now say it like you mean it. Tell it to yourself"

I look at my pathetic excuse for a body. I see a chubby guy with a bloody face. I see black hair all over covering a dark skin.

"My name is Roy Alamin." "And don't you fucking forget it."

[physicallyimprobable]

what's the 3-dimensional number thing?

Well I'm glad you asked! For those confused, this is referring to my claim that "my favorite multiplication equation is 3 × 5 = 15 because it's the reason you can't make a three-dimensional number system" from back in this post. Now, this is gonna be a bit of a journey, so buckle up.

Part One: Numbers in Space

First of all, what do I mean by a three-dimensional number system? We say that the complex numbers are two-dimensional, and that the quaternions are four-dimensional, but what do we mean by these things? There's a few potential answers to this question, but for our purposes we'll take the following narrative:

Complex numbers can be written in the form (a+bi), where a and b are real numbers. For the variable-averse, this just means we have things like (3+6i) and (5-2i) and (-8+3i). Some amount of "units" (that is, ones), and some amount of i's.

Most people are happy to stop here and say "well, there's two numbers that you're using, so that's two dimensions, ho hum". I think that's underselling it, though, since there's something nontrivial and super cool happening here. See, each complex number has an "absolute value", which is its distance from zero. If you imagine "3+6i" to mean "three meters East and six meters North", then the distance to that point will be 6.708 meters. We say the absolute value of (3+6i), which is written like |3+6i|, is equal to 6.708. Similarly, interpreting "5-2i" to mean "five meters East and two meters South" we get that |5-2i| = 5.385.

The neat thing about this is that absolute values multiply really nicely. For example, the two numbers above multiply to give (3+6i) × (5-2i) = (27+24i) which has a length of 36.124. What's impressive is that this length is the product of our original lengths: 36.124 = 6.708 × 5.385. (Okay technically this is not true due to rounding but for the full values it is true.)

This is what we're going to say is necessary to for a number system to accurately represent a space. You need the numbers to have lengths corresponding to actual lengths in space, and you need those lengths to be "multiplicative", which just means it does the thing we just saw. (That is, when you multiply two numbers, their lengths are multiplied as well.)

There's still of course the question of what "actual lengths in space" means, but we can just use the usual Euclidean method of measurement. So, |3+6i| = √(3²+6²) and |5-2i| = √(5²+2²). This extends directly to the quaternions, which are written as (a+bi+cj+dk) for real numbers a, b, c, d. (Don't worry about what j and k mean if you don't know; it turns out not to really matter here.) The length of the quaternion 4+3i-7j+4k can be calculated like |4+3i-7j+4k| = √(4²+3²+7²+4²) = 9.486 and similarly for other points in "four-dimensional space". These are the kinds of number systems we're looking for.

[To be explicit, for those who know the words: What we are looking for is a vector algebra over the real numbers with a prescribed basis under which the Euclidean norm is multiplicative and the integer lattice forms a subring.]

Part Two: Sums of Squares

Now for something completely different. Have you ever thought about which numbers are the sum of two perfect squares? Thirteen works, for example, since 13 = 3² + 2². So does thirty-two, since 32 = 4² + 4². The squares themselves also work, since zero exists: 49 = 7² + 0². But there are some numbers, like three and six, which can't be written as a sum of two squares no matter how hard you try. (It's pretty easy to check this yourself; there aren't too many possibilities.)

Are there any patterns to which numbers are a sum of two squares and which are not? Yeah, loads. We're going to look at a particularly interesting one: Let's say a number is "S2" if it's a sum of two squares. (This thing where you just kinda invent new terminology for your situation is common in math. "S2" should be thought of as an adjective, like "orange" or "alphabetical".) Then here's the neat thing: If two numbers are S2 then their product is S2 as well.

Let's see a few small examples. We have 2 = 1² + 1², so we say that 2 is S2. Similarly 4 = 2² + 0² is S2. Then 2 × 4, that is to say, 8, should be S2 as well. Indeed, 8 = 2² + 2².

Another, slightly less trivial example. We've seen that 13 and 32 are both S2. Then their product, 416, should also be S2. Lo and behold, 416 = 20² + 4², so indeed it is S2.

How do we know this will always work? The simplest way, as long as you've already internalized the bit from Part 1 about absolute values, is to think about the norms of complex numbers. A norm is, quite simply, the square of the corresponding distance. (Okay yes it can also mean different things in other contexts, but for our purposes that's what a norm is.) The norm is written with double bars, so ‖3+6i‖ = 45 and ‖5-2i‖ = 29 and ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90.

One thing to notice is that if your starting numbers are whole numbers then the norm will also be a whole number. In fact, because of how we've defined lengths, the norm is just the sum of the squares of the real-number bits. So, any S2 number can be turned into a norm of a complex number: 13 can be written as ‖3+2i‖, 32 can be written as ‖4+4i‖, and 49 can be written as ‖7+0i‖.

The other thing to notice is that, since the absolute value is multiplicative, the norm is also multiplicative. That is to say, for example, ‖(3+6i) × (5-2i)‖ = ‖3+6i‖ × ‖5-2i‖. It's pretty simple to prove that this will work with any numbers you choose.

But lo, gaze upon what happens when we combine these two facts together! Consider the two S2 values 13 and 32 from before. Because of the first fact, we can write the product 13 × 32 in terms of norms: 13 × 32 = ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖. So far so good. Then, using the second fact, we can pull the product into the norms: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖(3+2i) × (4+4i)‖. Huzzah! Now, if we write out the multiplication as (3+2i) × (4+4i) = (4+20i), we can get a more natural looking norm equation: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖4+20i‖ and finally, all we need to do is evaluate the norms to get our product! (3² + 2²) × (4² + 4²) = (4² + 20²)

The cool thing is that this works no matter what your starting numbers are. 218 = 13² + 7² and 292 = 16² + 6², so we can follow the chain to get 218 × 292 = ‖13+7i‖ × ‖16+6i‖ = ‖(13+7i) × (16+6i)‖ = ‖166+190i‖ = 166² + 190² and indeed you can check that both extremes are equal to 63,656. No matter which two S2 numbers you start with, if you know the squares that make them up, you can use this process to find squares that add to their product. That is to say, the product of two S2 numbers is S2.

Part Four: Why do we skip three?

Now we have all the ingredients we need for our cute little proof soup! First, let's hop to the quaternions and their norm. As you should hopefully remember, quaternions have four terms (some number of units, some number of i's, some number of j's, and some number of k's), so a quaternion norm will be a sum of four squares. For example, ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90 means 90 = 4² + 3² + 7² + 4².

Since we referred to sums of two squares as S2, let's say the sums of four squares are S4. 90 is S4 because it can be written as we did above. Similarly, 7 is S4 because 7 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 1², and 22 is S4 because 22 = 4² + 2² + 1² + 1². We are of course still allowed to use zeros; 6 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 0² is S4, as is our friend 13 = 3² + 2² + 0² + 0².

The same fact from the S2 numbers still applies here: since 7 is S4 and 6 is S4, we know that 42 (the product of 7 and 6) is S4. Indeed, after a bit of fiddling I've found that 42 = 6² + 4² + 1² + 1². I don't need to do that fiddling, however, if I happen to be able to calculate quaternions! All I need to do is follow the chain, just like before: 7 × 6 = ‖2+i+j+k‖ × ‖2+i+j‖ = ‖(2+i+j+k) × (2+i+j)‖ = ‖2+3i+5j+2k‖ = 2² + 3² + 5² + 2². This is a different solution than the one I found earlier, but that's fine! As long as there's even one solution, 42 will be S4. Using the same logic, it should be clear that the product of any two S4 numbers is an S4 number.

Now, what goes wrong with three dimensions? Well, as you might have guessed, it has to do with S3 numbers, that is, numbers which can be written as a sum of three squares. If we had any three-dimensional number system, we'd be able to use the strategy we're now familiar with to prove that any product of S3 numbers is an S3 number. This would be fine, except, well…

3 × 5 = 15.

Why is this bad? See, 3 = 1² + 1² + 1² and 5 = 2² + 1² + 0², so both 3 and 5 are S3. However, you can check without too much trouble that 15 is not S3; no matter how hard you try, you can't write 15 as a sum of three squares.

And, well, that's it. The bucket has been kicked, the nails are in the coffin. You cannot make a three-dimensional number system with the kind of nice norm that the complex numbers and quaternions have. Even if someone comes to you excitedly, claiming to have figured it out, you can just toss them through these steps: • First, ask what the basis is. Complex numbers use 1 and i; quaternions use 1, i, j, and k. Let's say they answer with p, q, and r. • Second, ask them to multiply (p+q+r) by (2p+q). • Finally, well. If their system works, the resulting number should give you three numbers whose squares add to 15. Since that can't happen, you've shown that the norm is not actually multiplicative; their system doesn't capture the geometry of three dimensions.

[thesovereignsring-if]

Major Update: To move forward is to take a step back.

Hello everyone, it's been a while. I hope you're all doing well. I'd ask that you read this to the end because some major changes will be in the upcoming update.

TLDR: You will need to start a new save file for new update (this weekend) otherwise there will be very noticable issues down the line.

I can't recall the last time I made a post or an update like this and frankly i'm scared to check . I've been struggling with writers block with the end of Chapter 1 and my small bouts of depression did not help one bit, so I had to take a step back and re-examine the narrative. If you ask me what the problem was, i'd say that perhaps I rushed too quickly into the main story, when I needed a little more foundation to stand on. After a few months of deliberation, a solution has been found. And I think everyone will like it. There will be no major rewrite of any sort, I think I would cry if that were the case.

Instead we going going to have a second prologue. This means that Chapter 1 will be inaccessible until the second prologue is complete. I'm very sorry that things have to be this way, but I do no see any other option for the story to continue forward in a satisfying way.

The second prologue will take place a few months after the first prologue during the Grand Festival of Eostre. This will be the first year you'll celebrate without your mother, at the very least you will have your friends and family with you at the time.

What to expect in the first half of Prologue 2:

Up to 13k words of new content.

Spend some time with your family.

Looooreeee & tea.

Meet Lior the Grand Cardinal of the Church of Eostre. The leading religion in Nibelheim.

Choose how to spend your free time at the festival in 2/4 possible routes. Route A: Alberich & Finny, Route B: Sieghardt & Thea.

(The last two routes will be added in the next update: Route C: Lynnette, Erik & Daria/Darius, and Route D: The Empress, King Lugh & Duchess Neaera)

Erik has a younger bastard half-sibling named Daria(f)/Darius(m). ( I will address them as Dara for short.) The final romantic interest, gender selectable. Even if you do not choose Route C, you will meet them later on in the second half of the update.

Fixes + Updates:

Character Creation has been updated and streamlined. (Gender/Pronouns and Sex are separate categories for both adult and child character creations. Attributes chosen during Child Character Creation will be stored as different variables in the event I choose to do anymore flashbacks later on in the story.)

Please note, that choosing after your sex (as an adult) I will assume your character will have the corresponding equipment down there.

Music Credits have been updated.

Minor adjustments to the colour of the UI, if people have any sort of colour theme they wish to see, I'll be more than happy to add them.

That is all for now. I hope the year has been kind to everyone so far. I haven't gone through my inbox yet, but I've seen glimpse of people's support it goes a long way. I sincerely do no think I'd come back if it weren't for the fact that I'd feel like I'd let everyone down. I will be making a patreon post after the first update goes live to talk about the new update and exclusives later.

Thank you for reading and enjoying TSR over the past year. It's means a lot to me and let's hope things will be better moving forward.

See you <3

Lili