#link is also in my masterlist

[dotcie]

Hi peeps, I created a small cod discord server a while ago & we're always happy to invite more like-minded people! If you're interested in joining, you can find more info in our google form :') ♡

[pupkashi]

satoru comeback truthers rise WHERE IS UR RAGE !!!

youre still slightly shaking, even with one hand in your lovers warmer one, you can’t help but feel the same fear you felt when you saw him laying in two.

“sweetheart” his voice is honey like, smoothing your sore throat as you look up at him, face dirty and scarred. “i asked if you wanna get pho?”

it’s odd, coming back home as if nothing happened. as if he hadn’t just had the battle of a lifetime and almost lost. your legs feel wobbly and that sinking pit in your stomach is back. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling, playing it off as you thinking.

“yeah pho sounds good” you say weakly, not taking your eyes off of satoru as he leads you to the couch. he tries to untangle your fingers from his, stopping when he feels your squeeze harder to keep his hand in place.

he doesn’t say anything, instead ordering with one hand, drawing a soothing circle with his thumb on your hand. satoru can feel your eyes on him, practically burning a hole into his skull with the intensity of your stare. he doesn’t mind, he can’t imagine how you felt, thinking he was dead for who knows how long. god knows what he would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

“ordered it, should be here in an hour ish” he whispers, pulling you close and laying back on the couch. you’re quick to wrap your arms around him, careful to not squeeze too hard as he was still sore and bruised.

thump, thump, thump.

the rhythmic beating is enough to calm you for a moment, your hands are less shaky and you feel like you can finally breathe. your eyes shut for a second, only to be met with the scene of satoru laying on ground. your eyes are shooting open immediately, making you sit up straight and giving satoru a once over, relieved to see he was really there.

“hey, im right here” he’s as gentle as ever, hands finding yours and squeezing tight. “im not going anywhere” he’s promises, placing one of your hands over his warm chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart calms you once more.

“‘m sorry” you choke out, wiping your eyes quickly before smiling softly, “was just- it was a lot” you mumble, “i thought-” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, satoru doesn’t make you, pulling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

the two of you stay like that for a while, taking turns holding each other, comforting one another and placing endless kisses on each others faces. it felt like only a moment had passed in comparison to the eternity you felt without satoru.

satoru notices the way your eyes linger on him, the way you’re looking at him every couple minutes as the two of you eat soup in silence. it hurts his heart, seeing you so afraid and traumatized, he wishes he could go back in time and make sure they kept you away from any screens.

the season finale of the show you two had been watching doesn’t matter to you much anymore, barely paying attention to it. your focus is instead on the white haired man laying practically on top of you, mindlessly eating some popcorn you’d made for him.

your fingers are tangled in his hair, somehow still soft despite everything he went through. satoru can feel your eyes on him, of course he can. he wonders if you’re looking at his scarred skin, if you’re too scared to even continue a relationship with him.

“you should shower” your comment is what breaks the silence and interrupts satoru’s spiraling thoughts.

“huh?” there’s genuine confusion in his voice. is that really what you were thinking about? “are you calling me stinky?” he teases, testing the waters.

“grimy, actually” a small smile creeping on your lips. it makes satoru’s heart glow, a wide grin on his lips as he sees your smile.

“your words cut deep” he pouts, quickly smiling again when you roll your eyes at his familiar antics. “even sukuna didn’t hurt me this much” the words make you gasp, smacking him slightly and pushing him off the couch.

“uncalled for!” you laugh, shrieking when satoru stands from the floor and picks you up swiftly. he doesn’t think k twice before peppering kisses over your face and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“now you’re stinky too!” he wastes no time in heading to the restroom, with you still in his arms (hardly putting up a fight). he sets you on the counter softly, bending down to be eye level with you. his nose is only centimeters from yours, and you can’t resist the urge to rub yours against his.

satoru giggles at your action; the noise alone puts your heart at ease, the weight on your shoulders lifted and things felt right.

for the time the two of you are in the restroom life is perfect again. even when satoru takes his shirt off, visibly nervous about the new scar across his torso, you’re too happy to have him there to care.

“you don’t think it looks, i don’t know, ugly?” he’s avoiding eye contact and you can’t help but laugh softly. the sound makes his head snap towards you immediately, relaxing when you take his hands in his and pull him closer.

“you could never look ugly, angel boy” you mumble, kissing his lips. “i think it looks good, actually” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows and making his cheeks flush pink. satoru wastes no time kissing you again, giggling against your lips.

the hot water hits his skin and it feels like a godsend, making hums sigh in relief.

“told you you should shower” you tease, making your lover grin at your words. he waves you off gently, relishing in the feeling. “c’mere let me shampoo you.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, a faint smile on his lips when your fingers scratch his scalp. maybe it’s the steam enshrouding the two of you, or seeing you change into his clothes, or smelling the clean bedsheets again, or being home- regardless of the reason satoru finally feels free.

there’s no stress on his shoulders from the higher ups or his clan, he’s not afraid of his students getting hurt anymore, he’s not afraid of losing you.

“i love you sweetheart” he whispers. you’ve been asleep for a while now, your head on his chest with your arms wrapped tightly around him. maybe it was weird but he didn’t care, he spent the night tracing your features with his eyes, memorizing any noise you made and the way you breathed.

satoru’s eyes watered, grateful to be back home. his eyes wandering to his sock drawer, tomorrow he’ll pull out the small velvet box he bought a year ago.

taglist: @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

[silverduckie]

So with the rise of influencer fcs in the Tumblr rpc, I figured I’d make a quick masterlist of Instagram accounts who keep track of people who has requested not to be roleplayed so people can cross check them before they use / gif someone. Please don’t rip screenshots / the entire list while using these without reaching out for consent from the account who posted it too, it's considered rude to do so in their rp community and as guests, we should respect that:

donotmodelrp (also posts problematic fcs)

rpmodel4u (also posts influencers who has given the thumbs up, has a pinned post to request influencers for them to reach out and ask)

helpingrpm (posts approvals as well)

thighs4fcs (has both a tellonym and takes requests in dms to reach out to influencers and ask)

sk8bnny (posts approvals as well)

insposhape (posts approvals as well)

Most of these accounts also have highlights (which may include screenshots from people who didn’t give consent even to post their photos to let people know they’re not to be rped and links to other accounts posts of fcs who've asked not to be used, so they’re worth checking).

[microwave-core]

Lifeline

Cynthia x Fem! Reader

You’ve had a crush on your dear childhood friend Cynthia for as long as you can remember. Facing against each other as champions reminds you of that fact.

SO, I know the Masters 8 thing from the anime was a part of gen 8, but I’ve decided to make reader a champion in Paldea, kind of representing the region on Geeta’s behalf, in place of Alain. Lumiose Conference or whatever my ass. 

Looking back, you were always meek as a child. A little shy, a little nervous when talking or the center of attention, a little shaky when issuing your pokemon commands. Not that it mattered, not when you always had your dear Cynthia to rely on. The young girl you had met in your mutual, sleepy home of Celestic Town. 

Maybe she wasn’t as good as you remember her being at the time, not with her current level of strength, but as kids she always seemed so, so… confident. Unstoppable. And maybe that really is just your nostalgic, crush-induced rose-tinted glasses talking, but that’s how you saw her.

You always believed she could be champion. More than that. Perhaps even the best in the world. Something other’s didn’t believe at the time. Who would have thought that some spunky ten year old from a backwater town and nothing but a bumbling Gible at her side would become such an unbelievable powerhouse?

But you knew, even way back when. Even before either of you had your first pokemon, you knew she was destined for something great. Not just because of some implicit skill or natural born talent, but because of her unrelenting determination and resolve. A feeling that only solidified in the depths of your heart the day she ran up to you, announcing the hatching of the egg she was entrusted with. 

You had begun your journeys side by side, vowing to journey across the region, collecting gym badges, and becoming champions together. And yeah, maybe there can only be one champion of the region, but neither of you cared about that. You were young, full of joy and excitement and energy. Gible by her side, Swablu by your own.

It was apparent to everyone that she was stronger than you. Her team and battle prowess were higher, her confidence soaring high above your own. Not that you cared. Well, okay, that’s a lie. It did bother you a little, admittedly, but in the way that spurred you on to be stronger. Be better. The kind that made you work towards her in the race to the finish line. You weren’t a sore loser, she wasn’t a sore winner, you both worked to make the other stronger.

But by the time you both managed to collect each and every one of Sinnoh’s gym badges, your interest in becoming the region’s champion waned. Not that you didn’t want to try, but because you knew that, even if you did try you would surely lose to Cynthia. Her radiant confidence, her cool and collected nature, her dazzling smile… 

Yes, you had feelings for her. Major ones at that. Ones that obviously stemmed all the way back to your childhood. It was apparent to everyone in your old hometown. The way you followed behind her like a lost Shinx, the way that you were hooked on her every word, the way heat crawled up your face and traveled through every inch of your body whenever she smiled or laughed or did… much of anything, honestly. 

As kids, though, neither of you cared all that much. Romance and kissing were icky to you both, things that adults did that you would stick your tongues out at. That didn’t stop your parents from teasing you about getting married to her one day, or her grandmother from jokingly calling you her granddaughter-in-law.

When you went on a journey together, those feelings only grew stronger. You wanted so desperately to hold her hand, to huddle together for warmth when camping out under the stars, to kiss her softly and all of that other mushy stuff you once found gross. If kissing her would give you cooties, you would embrace them with open arms.

You knew it was obvious, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it felt like it was due to everyone at home knowing. Regardless, you felt hopeless. Did Cynthia feel the same? Did she catch on to the feelings you’ve harbored since you were kids and was just too nice to say anything about it? Was she too dense to notice? Did she even care about romance? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to find out. You’d rather keep her as a friend than ruin things when confessing.

Pinning for her was enough for you. 

Unfortunately, some time after your journey for badges concluded, you had to deliver to her awful news. Your family was moving to another region, to Paldea, to a place where she wouldn’t be with you. You stewed on telling her for a few days. Even if she didn’t share your feelings, you were still her friend, her best friend. Losing you was going to hurt. Your Altaria, who had long since evolved from the small, clumsy Swablu you once knew, was there for comfort, at least. 

Cynthia quickly noticed something was up, you told each other everything (most things, anyways), and she could tell something was weighing on your mind. And, as expected, she was devastated upon learning the news.

The last day in Sinnoh, the two of you spent together. Going on a trip down memory lane, visiting your favorite spots, returning the places you caught each of your pokemon… She hugged you tightly at the end of the day, whispering softly into your hair about how much she would miss you. You wanted desperately for her to confess some feelings, to reveal that she too was so desperately in love, but it never came. You left early the next morning, sharing one last hug, her vowing to get even stronger and become champion, just for you.

Letters were sent back and forth, turning into texts and calls as you got older. Even if it wasn’t in person, you still talked and chatted and told each other as much as you could. It wasn’t the same, but it was something, enough to keep her in your life. Enough to keep the flame in your heart alive. 

That’s why you went out on another journey, determined to collect another set of badges, to become the champion, and to stand on even footing with her. Your resolve was only bolded when you watched her become the new champion of Sinnoh. From behind the TV screen, of course. Her and that Garchomp, the sweet yet mighty dragon you watched grow stronger and stronger each day alongside her beautiful and capable trainer…

Unlike other regions, there was no tournament for the top spot, instead having a title, a class, just for people capable of defeating Paldea’s strongest. La Primera gave you lots of trouble, but your team was strong, much stronger than when you first arrived in the region, and you couldn’t back down from the challenge. If you lost to her, how could you ever beat your Cynthia?

The phone call you had after the fight with her was one of the most exciting calls you’ve ever had, loudly and happily proclaiming your victory, and she couldn’t be more happy for you. Even if you weren’t on her level at the time, Cynthia knew you were strong as well, and she believed in you just as much as you did in her. If being champion didn’t keep her so busy, she would have been here with you, to celebrate your accomplishment in person..

So when she heard you would be in the Masters 8 tournament to represent your new home, she knew she had to be there. To see you in person for the first time in years. To see just how strong you had become. And, right now, staring at you from across the field, tension high and adrenaline higher, the wait to see you was worth it.

“You’ve changed so much since we’ve last seen each other… but I have no intention of losing here.”

God, even her voice alone was enough to make your heart want to explode.

For you, the current moment was exciting and also terrifying. You had longed for this kind of moment for years, For over a decade at this point, and it was finally happening. A chance to show the woman you’ve pinned for for years just how strong you could be. Your fights with Steven and Iris before were incredible challenges of strength and skill, but neither had such intense feelings on the line.

“I, uh. I don’t intend on losing either!”

Not your finest moment. Not very cool sounding. You couldn’t care less about the hundreds of thousands of people watching, the idea of looking uncool in front of Cynthia made your nerves spike, but the angelic, albeit small laugh that fell from her lips as a result of your words might have made it worth it-

No. no time to think like that. You couldn’t be distracted by her marvelous presence when so much was on the line.

And so, you both exchanged words as your pokemon began exchanging blows, praising each other’s strategies and throwing in bits and pieces of trash talk to please the crowd every now and then. Not that pleasing the crowd was even on your mind, not much was, honestly. You were so focused on the battle and Cynthia that your mind circled around to being filled with white noise.

In the end, it was mutual destruction. You were both left with your last pokemon, both left with your starters, with no gimmicks at your disposal. Her Garchomp and your Altaria clashed against one another, each move kicking up dust and debris from the battlefield, until the two rammed into each other with the remainder of their energy.

Both of them were done for, but Altaria fell before Garchomp, who followed almost immediately after. A photo finish, a battle that came right down to the wire. A battle that proved you were evenly matched. Coming this far only to lose hurt, sure, but knowing that you were as strong as Cynthia filled that wound and more.

The blaring noise of the commentators and crowd were a blur for you, and likely Cynthia, too. You had knelt down next to your fallen companion, thanking her for all of her work, praising her for pushing it to the limit, and returning her to her ball for a well deserved rest. Cynthia was right in front of you when you looked up, smiling and extending a hand.

Your breath hitches as she pulls you back up on your feet, the feeling of her lovely soft hand making your tired mind nearly short circuit. Unfortunately, she retracts her hand, only to place it on the back of your shoulder, leading you both off of the battlefield into the privacy of the hall between the public eye and back rooms.

“You were incredible out there.”

Her tone is gentle, and probably would have been quieter if it weren’t for the echoes of the roaring crowd from outside.

“Me? Oh, you were the real star! You… you won, after all!”

“You’ve always been too modest. You drove me against the wall back there, not to mention the other trainers you championed over before me.”

You scratch the back of your neck, stumbling through your words, mumbling out a quick thanks. Embarrassed, but oh so warm on the inside. A silence came over you both, not an uncomfortable one, per say, but one underlined with tension, as if neither of you knew what to say. Unsure of where to start.

“You know, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. There’s a cafe around here that we could go to-”

“I’m in love with you.”

The words barrel out of your mouth before you could stop them. The pounding in your chest was too intense to ignore. Years of built up feelings finally boiling up to the surface.

“I’m… come again?”

Her cheeks were painted an adorable baby pink, for once in her life unsure of what to say. 

“I… I love you. I think I always have, and I just… I don’t think I can stand it anymore. Knowing that I’ve finally caught up to you, that I could almost beat you back there, it… I just can’t hold back anymore”

You shut your eyes tightly. Even if her expression was so lovely and perfect and one you wanted to burn into your eyes to cherish for forever and ever, you couldn’t bear to see it potentially distort into rejection. The constant thump thump thump of your heart was deafening, filling your ears, overtaking the sounds of the cheering crowd, of the outside world. Her hand on your shoulder tightens slightly as she utters out your name, the syllables falling off her slips sounding like the sweetest song in your mind.

“I’m… I’m flattered.”

“You don’t have to soften the b-blow. Just say you don’t feel the same if you have toI… we can still be friends.”

Your shoulders slump ever so slightly, trying your absolute hardest to keep yourself together.

“That’s not it.”

“It… it’s not?”

Opening your eyes, you see the sickeningly sweet smile on her face, eyes pooling with warmth and crinkling. So sweet and genuine.

“You’ve worked so hard to get here today, I don’t need you to tell me to know. I’ve always known you were strong, seeing you so full of confidence was so wonderful, so…”

“So..?”

“Attractive.”

“Oh! Um, haha… That means a lot. From you.”

Your string of babbling is cute off by her laugh, soft hand leaving your shoulder and instead landing on your cheek, caressing it softly.

“How about we just take things slow for now, alright? Go out once all of the celebration ends and see how things go?”

“That… I’d love that. A lot.”

“Perfect. Oh, I just know you’ll love the place I have in mind. It has some of the best ice cream I’ve had in my whole life. You can get as much as you want, my treat.”

“It’s a date then! A.. a date.”

You can’t help the giddy smile on your face, or the fit of giggles bubbling in your chest, or the way your mind runs in circles because you’re getting the chance to be with the woman who’s been on your mind since you were a child. Her own smile brightens even further, patting your cheek before once again taking your hand in hers, walking through the rest of the hall.

“My heart has been desperate to claw its way out of my chest to engrave itself next to your own for years.”

“Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that.” “Oh, it’s, uh… nothing. Nothing at all.”

You can take it slow for now. Keep all of the feelings and thoughts in your heart contained for just  a little bit longer, knowing that you could bare your soul for her to see in full one day. For now, a simple date was all you could ever ask for.

[silvers-starrway]

Sonic Murder Drones AU Masterlist

AU created by me and @cherbearsz with some other inputs from our friends :]

AU Summary: MDAU follows the same basic plot points as Murder Drones just with the Sonic Cast put in for different characters. Sonic, a worker drone, yearns for freedom outside of the bunker and builds a weapon to take out the disassembly drones that have been terrorizing them for as long as he can remember. Nothing goes according to plan and Sonic ends up becoming friends with one of the disassembly drones, Serial Designation C. Having inherited a rogue piece of code called the Absolute Solver, Sonic together with C and eventually R, need to figure out a way to stop Nine from destroying the planet before the Solver completely takes over Sonic’s body.

Cast list: Sonic - Uzi C (Chaos Sonic) - N R (Rusty Rose) - V S (Shadow) - J Maria - Tessa Nine - Cyn Silver - Doll Rouge - Lizzy Knuckles - Thad Whisper - Khan Surge - Alice Kit - Beau Tangle - Nori Blaze - Yeva

Character Lineups by @cherbearsz - R, Sonic, C, S and Maria - 'Maria', Silver, Rouge, Knuckles, Whisper and Nine

Ep 1 - 'Literally so insanely suspicious' (by @snowiwyvern)

Ep 4 - Friendship lore - Solver Sonic

Ep 7 - Church confrontation - Sonic and C fight (by @dacieng) - Possessed Sonic

Ep 8 - S and R confrontation - Sonic: I can do this now!!

Post Show - Rouge helps S - What's in a name

Other - Episode 8 trailer reaction - Good bots - Respite - Silver's cool pose - Whisper, Rouge and R - Chaonic rarepair request - Artfight icons - Nine's freak behaviour - MDAU art dump (by @transzsonix) - Dangandopa blood S (by @pastelspindash) - Silver, S and Nine - Sonic and S - Song swap with Wonder - Chaonic ship bingo - Holy shit two cakes! - Sonic AU Collision image - Nine fanart (by @wispcandle)

Doodle Dumps - Dump 1 - Dump 2 - Magma doodles 1 - Magma doodles 2 - Dump 3 - Dump 4

Artfight Attacks - C and Sonic (by Snowiwyvern) - Nine (by m3tr0n0m33) - Sonic AU mass attack (by toonagi)

[angry-snail]

Brush Master List [ CLIP STUDIO PAINT EXCLUSIVE ]

Decided to finally sit down and make a list of all the CSP brushes I use on a semi regular basis. ( I have accumulated so many over the years. ) All brushes listed below are free on clip studio's asset store. PEN(S) / PENCIL(S) / LINE ART : -------------------------------------- . HIMOG . HIMO . More pens and Hinokizaka pens . Pen + Caspar pen . Cliesel's Goongi Pen . ballpoint sample . Sugar Spot Graffiti Set . Pou's Brushes . Pou's Brush set . Artemus Pencil

COLORING / SHADING / TEXTURE : -------------------------------------- . Pou's Basic Brushes . MUGZ BRUSHES 3 . Oil Painting Brushpack . block brush! . rake painter/ oil paint <3 . Filbert (dual) . Simple Retro Halftone Brushes . ffgghhjj Halftone Brushes . Watercolor marker and texture set . T-marker Wind Brush Set . Texture-rough dot . Ph Dot Grid . Ph Math Grid . Monochrome Texture Pack

[pfhwrittes]

pssst! if you're new here and want to see more transmasc reader stuff check out the Binders and Boyfriends Masterlist or the Tradie 141 Masterlist for more transmasc stuff 😘

[necrotic-nephilim]

necrotic whump masterlist

note: as of 10/1/24, i am still writing fics for this! i have about a dozen left in my inbox and this masterlist will continually get updated as i post them.

this is the collection/masterlist for all the fics i wrote based on whump dialogue prompts! none of these fics are on ao3 currently, as the point of them is to be quick and unedited, but if you would like one of these put on ao3 so you can bookmark/download/etc, just let me know and I'll happily cross-post over there! for now, i hope you enjoy all the fics created for these prompts so far! <3

"if i have to force you, i will." [BruDick]

"you're enjoying this, aren't you? freak." [JayTim]

"i think you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to." [JayTim]

"but why should i let you go when you look so pretty like this?" [JayTim]

"can you two manage not to tear each other apart while i'm gone?" [BruJayTim]

"how else am i supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" [BruJay]

"you wouldn't." [BruJay]

"what is this 'mercy' you speak of?" [TimCass]

"i don't care how much you hate me- you need to eat!" [DickTim]

"how else am i supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" [JeanTim]

[junkissed]

some quick updates !

first, i just turned in my last final so i'm officially on winter break woo!!!!! :D i have been DYING to start writing again and now that my responsibilities are out of the way i finally can :)) i can't make any promises how often i'll post because life is still busy in other ways, but i have more down time rn and i'm so excited to get back into writing <3

secondly!! if you've been following me for a while you'll know that i'm in a collab with my dear friend mars @onlymingyus called the king's gambit, and after a long break we've finally started working on it again!! it's by far my longest fic and i am so so excited to finish this collab that's been almost 2 years in the making. we are planning on making a new masterlist and taglist soon so please keep an eye out for that, and feel free to send asks if there's more you want to know! there is no release date yet as we're not finished writing but we appreciate your patience so much and i promise we are going to get it out soon!!

my wips (including tkg) are updated here :)

[lacyblades]

do you intend to write angst for fratboy!gojo?

i do ! and lemme just tell u the angst will be angsting 😮‍💨🫶

[crispyjenkins]

FINALLY got you on my dash again, only to discover you've written an AC fic that you are giving us dribs and drabs of, heathen *shakes prison cell bars* please tell me more about "Miles" before I combust

HI UR MY NEW FAVORITE (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

  “Your name is not Miles.”

  Desmond tenses for a barely a moment before relaxing again, and doesn’t bother to look up from the hidden blade he’s tweaking to have a faster release. Even if he didn’t recognise the voice, the dark blur leaning against the doorjamb out of the corner of his eye would tell Desmond sure as anything who had come to haunt the armoury at his side. “Of course it isn’t,” Desmond eventually mutters to Francesco Vecellio, the only one of Ezio’s brotherhood to wear dark gray instead of white.

  Francesco snorts, eyeing Desmond from under the beak of his hood, Desmond’s own pushed down around his shoulders to better see by lantern-light. “You should have thought to pick a more common name if you did not want others to question it.”

  “ ’Should have thought to pick anything before I showed up.” He grinds his chisel a little deeper into the metal casing of his blade, and then nearly cuts himself slipping on it when Francesco gives a startled laugh.

  “You didn’t have one prepared?”

  Desmond blinks up at Ezio’s highest-ranked protégé, not sure if he should feel embarrassed or not. “I, uh. Didn’t think that far ahead?”

  And for someone who had managed nine years evading Templars and Assassins both, you’d think he’d have known better.

  The look Francesco gives him tells Desmond he feels the same. “You’re smarter than that, fratellino.”

  Desmond scowls. “Well, obviously I’m not.”

  “... You snuck into the main headquarters of the Italian Brotherhood in less than an hour and then fooled us all into thinking you were supposed to be here for nearly a week — Machiavelli isn’t sure even our Padrone could have managed that.”

  Swallowing uncomfortably, Desmond scoffs and tries to return to his hidden blade, but that still leaves his entire profile in view of Francesco’s far-too-discerning gaze. And he’s the only one other than Desmond to have been training for this since childhood: his observation skills are beaten only by Ezio, and even that is mostly thanks to his Eagle Vision.

  Actually, Francesco is a born Assassin, too, does he have EV?

  “Miles–”

  “Do you have the Sight?”

  They blink at each other, and Desmond isn’t sure who is more surprised by the interruption. Snarky he may be, Desmond has also had politeness beaten into him, and deference besides, and everyone in the Brotherhood had clocked it.

  “To an extent,” Francesco eventually admits, sounding puzzled, “Nothing so refined as il Padrone’s.” He looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “It is... finicky, I can only use it while motionless, and it really only tells me if someone means me harm.”

  Desmond bites back the offer to help train his EV into something far more useful — it would never reach the level of Altaïr’s, or Ezio’s, or Ratonhnhaké:ton’s, because that had more than a little to do with Isu fuckery. However, the Levantine Assassins (at least until Altaïr’s death, though it was Al Mualim who started the practice) were able to train most initiates to have at least some grasp of the technique, as long as they had that genetics-dictated spark to start with. Desmond was lucky enough for his time in the Animus to awaken his own Vision, and living as Ezio slowly mastering it into Eagle Sense had improved it in leaps and bounds for Desmond on the outside, and prepared him for experiencing Ratonhnhaké:ton’s advanced form of it. Though that, and Eagle Sense, never actually awakened in Desmond Miles.

  But “Miles” hasn’t told this Brotherhood that he has Altaïr’s Sight, Ezio’s Gift, partly because Desmond forgot they didn’t know, but now it’s also an active decision, because it would without a doubt make them insist he’s Ezio’s son with even more conviction. And until Desmond has figured out what he’s going to tell Ezio about the whole time-travel–thing, he isn’t going to confirm or deny anything the other members cook up.

  Except Desmond watches Francesco tilt his head, and then his eyes burn golden for just a moment. “Why do you ask?”

  He’s smart enough to guess, but he’s also smart enough not to assume, and patiently waits for Desmond’s response.

  Ahh, fuck it, he’s already screwed up this whole identity thing by talking with Claudia (not that he meant to reveal so much to her but, well, she’s Ezio’s baby sister. And [redacted]. Fuck, time travel is so weird).

  He looks up from his carving again to flash his eyes right back, and is more than gratified to see Francesco glow a steady, deep blue. He tends to avoid looking at the Brotherhood with his EV, he’s too much of a coward to confirm just what they actually think of him, and he’s only looked at Ezio once, before they properly met.

  Francesco smiles in the shadow of his hood, seemingly pleased with Desmond trusting him with such a secret. “Does il Padrone know?” he asks without judgement, and Desmond winces as he looks back down at his tinkering.

  “No, I... I became so used to it that I didn’t think to mention it, and then it had been so long that it was... awkward?” He chuckles nervously at admitting such a weakness, especially when he’s pretty sure this is the longest conversation he’s had with Ezio’s star pupil. He has double blades, for Christ’s sake, despite not being a Master Assassin.

  Oh. Is Desmond jealous of Francesco? Hm, something to think about.

  “And then you did not want the others gossiping,” Francesco agrees, nodding like that is the obvious conclusion. Desmond still doesn’t relax, but he’s glad he didn’t have to spell that out for him.

  Desmond scratches the bridge of his nose awkwardly. “I’m not Master Ezio’s son, but I don’t think any of our siblings would believe me if I tried to tell them that.” And hadn’t finding out his real parentage been an absolute trip; he’s still scarred mentally and physically from it. Which reminds him, he should respond to his mother’s last letter before she begins to worry about him taking too long.

  Having a mother to care about him is... still an experience he’s getting used to. It’s only been, what, two years since he found her again?

  She had glowed a blue so dark it was almost black, a colour Desmond hadn’t seen even once in either of his lives, or the lives he’d lived in the Animus. He knows she kisses her letters before sending them from the indigo left behind like lipstick.

  ... Which is also how Desmond found out he had progressed from Eagle Vision to Eagle Sense, which was also the point he realised he hadn’t told Ezio about his EV in the first place.

  “I believe you.”

  It’s said so simply, Francesco even gives a little shrug, but Desmond whips his head back around and is... absolutely floored. As dehumanised and used as he was in the 21st century, his little jaunt to the past has almost been worse, if he lets himself think about it too hard (and he never does). People don’t just... believe in Desmond.  Something must show on his face, because Francesco offers him a tight smile. Then, blessedly, he changes the subject and nods to Desmond’s hands, “What are you working on?”

-

[eowynstwin]

okay i've reformatted neighbors yet again and this time i'm actually truly calling it good enough, no take-backsies, no do overs, the design scheme is fine now and i am going to live with it god DAMMIT

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 7

Word count: 2053 Warnings: - A/N: this one is a bit smaller than usual, but i don't wanna break the streak, so here you are. also i got back access to ao3 and will be posting existing chapters there too!

As Wharton approached, the patients next to Tommy fled, freeing up half the table. Only Mick stayed by his side, but even he moved away a bit, playing the “I’m just sitting here eating” part. Upsetting but understandable – Mick only knew Tommy for a couple hours and obviously wasn’t going to take a risk for him.

So Tommy would have to deal with Wharton alone. Well, fine.

Wharton came to the table with a plate of soup in his hands, and Tommy recoiled, thinking he was going to upend it on him, but Wharton just put it on the table. Then he sat down on the bench and flung his legs over it. His face changed for a second, but Tommy didn’t manage to distinguish the emotion. Then it returned to the same insolent, mocking half-smile that seemed to be stuck to his lips.

“Hello, handsome,” Wharton said.

Tommy expected an insult instead and, confused, didn’t come up with a reply soon enough. Wharton clearly liked the effect of his greeting.

“Wow, and that’s from a simple compliment? That’s sad. Did your mommy and daddy not love you at all? Though since you are here, they probably didn’t.”

That was a low blow, and Wharton knew it. For the first time Tommy regretted not having put on a hospital robe. His clothes really gave out his roots. A rich family wouldn’t send a beloved son to a public asylum. There still were private clinics, even though the government tried hard to dwindle their numbers. As a last resort, his parents could have sent him to their countryside mansion with some sort of a carer to remove him from public eye. But no. They chose to dump him in a poor, overloaded public asylum with all sorts of human garbage in it. Like the one talking to Tommy right now.

“And your parents should have paid you more attention,” Tommy finally said. “Because you’re clearly seeking it.”

Not the best he could come up with, but he had to say something.

“What’s so bad in attention-seeking?” Wharton said. “Especially from pretty guys like you.”

“I don’t go there,” Tommy said sharply, gripping his fork tightly. If Wharton makes a move, he’s getting a fork in the eye.

“That doesn’t matter.” Wharton smiled. A couple of his teeth were missing. “You’re in a “nobody gives a shit what you want” place. You either do things to others or have things done to you.”

“Or you leave everyone alone and just live your life. But that probably hasn’t occurred to you.”

Wharton stopped smiling and leaned forward, closer to Tommy. Tommy gripped his fork tighter.

“I spent more time in a padded cell than you spent inside your mother. I had time to think about everything.”

“Didn’t know you could do that,” Tommy said. The easiest, most primitive way to get back at someone – childish, even. But weren’t lunatics all mentally children? And wasn’t this just a quarrel over who’s gonna rule the playground?

“Many have this misconception,” Wharton agreed. He was either too stupid to understand the insult or too smart to get offended. And Tommy had a feeling it wasn’t the former. There was something in Wharton – in his movements, in his expressions, in the tone of his voice – that suggested there was more behind that deranged sex maniac mask. And that was even scarier.

“What do you want?” Tommy asked directly. “Are you still offended by the morning fight? We both have given each other a fair beating. You have a place to sit. What else is there to it?”

“True,” Wharton said. “We both beat each other’s asses. And I have a place to sit. But there’s another thing.”

Tommy exhaled, frustrated. “What is it.”

“Have you been to Dr. Duren’s?”

“I should’ve?”

“Well, you see, he doesn’t like when patients fight. Both sides get a good walloping for it. I have been given a punishment. And you?”

Tommy could lie. He could say he had been to Dr. Duren’s, had had his punishment assigned, whatever it could be – probably some extra work. But he knew that Wharton wouldn’t ask if he didn’t already know the truth.

“I haven’t.”

“And that-“ Wharton lowered his fist on the table, slowly and forcefully, “-is the problem I have with you.”

“That I haven’t been punished? You can go ask-“

“That you are Dr. Duren’s special princess.”

Special princess. Laughter bubbled in Tommy’s throat. Yeah, he could be called that. Special princess.

Wharton’s heavy, unfriendly stare was taking all the fun out of it – or rather, supposed to. Because Tommy laughed anyway. Laughter built up in his chest and spilled out of his mouth, and it wasn’t funny, it was never funny, but the laughter didn’t care, it came and go as it pleased, and always at the worst possible time.

Wharton was looking at him with a confused frown on his face. He was probably thinking, I haven’t said anything funny. And it was true, but Tommy couldn’t tell him that. Laughter blocked out everything else. He could barely catch a breath between the fits, let alone speak.

Tommy didn’t notice how he bent over and pressed his forehead to the table. He was trying to cover his mouth with his hand, but the laughter still got through. Someone came up to him, leaned forward, spoke in the familiar voice.

“Tommy, what’s going on?”

Mick.

“Now I see why he’s here.” Wharton said over Tommy’s head.

“Shut up and call the nurse.”

“No,” came a lazy refusal, “I’d rather watch.”

A pause, and then:

“Tommy? What’s happening?” – Duff.

“He’s having a fit.” – Mick.

“I told a really funny joke.” – Wharton.

“Shut up!” – Duff, Mick.

“Hey, Tommy.” – Warm hands over his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s take you to the doctor.”

***

Nikki had been missing since lunch, and Mick couldn’t sit still. And he had to, because he had been assigned mending work. Holes in socks, torn trousers, missing buttons on shirts, worn-out bedsheets… Few patients were allowed to do it – needles and scissors were not the best things to give to psychos, - and even fewer agreed to it, saying it was ‘womanly’. But Mick liked it. He didn’t have to move much, and his poor back was grateful for that. The work itself was quiet, meditative, calm. Also, there were no windows in the workroom and only one door which Mick faced while working. Good thing all around.

Except today it wasn’t calm. God knows where Nikki was and what he was doing right now. He was a very creative boy – he could make something to self-harm with practically out of thin air. And when he wasn’t cutting himself, he was in on a hair trigger for that. What if Wharton got him again? Their interaction lasted mere seconds, but he did say something to Nikki, something that made his face drop. That was enough for him to fly off the hook, especially since… recent events.

Mick didn’t know what the quarrel between Nikki and Wharton was about, but he supposed Wharton dumped him. Got tired of a new toy and discarded it. Though their… relationship did last longer than his other flings – Mick knew of four months, and there could be more.

It would have been better for them to hook up a couple times and leave it at that. Wharton was simply incapable of a reciprocating relationship, and Nikki got his hopes too high over those months. He couldn’t see through Wharton like Mick did – see a cruel, selfish, manipulative asshole who cared only about himself that he was. Nikki was a smart boy overall, but clearly lacked in reading people.

Mick pricked his finger with the needle for the third time and couldn’t just sit there anymore. He dropped the sock he was mending and rose from his chair.

“Where to?” Hudson, who was watching them today, asked.

“To take a piss.”

“Alright.” Hudson didn’t suspect a thing – mostly because Mick wasn’t known for anything deserving suspicion.

Mick walked out the door and down the hall, then turned around the corner, looked around and sped up. He didn’t have much time.

First he checked the lavatory. It was hard to hide in there – it was a rather popular place, and many patients were often accompanied by nurses who would have noticed him. And Nikki had the “in need of permanent surveillance” mark on his medical history, which meant he would have already been taken to his ward.

Hoping that it already happened, next Mick went exactly there – but it stood empty, with the door open. The cleaner did a shitty job, and there were still traces of blood on the floor. Mick winced and turned away.

Then he went to the kitchen – he was friendly with the cooks and could hope they wouldn’t rat him out.   

“Hi, Bob,” Steve said when Mick entered. “Hungry?”

“Nah.” Mick shook his head and looked around. No Nikki in sight. Well, it was expectable – the cooks would have never let him in there, knowing his infatuation with sharp objects – but still worth a check. “You seen Feranna?”

“Here?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You serious? I’d have kicked him out the moment he came.”

“And that’s right,” Mick said, reaching for the bread basket and pulling out a piece. All this worrying did make him a bit hungry. “What’s for dinner?”

“Fried fish and mashed potatoes.”

“M-m. Classic. Thanks. Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“Of course.” Steve laughed. He believed Mick was just pulling his “I’m being watched” thing, and Mick wanted it to stay that way. Right now he was relatively safe and had other, bigger concerns.

Chewing on the piece of bread, Mick headed down the hall. The cracking of the crust on his teeth drowned out other sounds, and he heard nurses talking behind the corner at the last moment. He dashed into the closest open ward and pressed his back to the wall, waiting for the nurses to pass by.

While he waited, Mick cast a quick glance around the ward. It didn’t look like it was lived in at all. The sheets were barely wrinkled, as if nobody slept on them, but it’s been over two weeks since the last change of bedding. It couldn’t be unoccupied: the asylum was full. Besides, there were restraints attached on the bedframe, and they were not leather, like usual, but metal. Interesting. The resident must be one of the aggressive ones.

The nurses left, and Mick continued his journey. He peeped into the common room – it wasn’t evening yet, so there were only a couple patients cleaning it, and old John Paul was quietly playing the even older piano. It was basically all he still could do – and did.

Mick went along the hall, looking into the empty wards. Nikki could easily hide in one of them, and would be found only at bedtime, and god knows what he could do to himself by then. But Nikki wasn’t inside any of the wards.

Maybe washing room? Mick headed in that direction. But just before rounding a corner he heard familiar voices.

“What were you doing there?” Whose else could that booming, angry voice be but Simmons’s?

“Wanted some fresh air.”

Mick made a loud sigh of relief. It was Nikki.

“Yeah? Fresh air? In October? Barefoot?”

Mick sighed again – now with disappointment. Of course, with Nikki nothing could go smoothly.

“I wanted to feel the earth.”

“Yeah, sure. You get pneumonia, that’s your fault.” Then a sound of someone stumbling.

“Hey! I can walk on my own! You don’t need to drag me!”

“I don’t think so.”

Mick crept after them until they reached Nikki’s ward. Simmons pushed him in and locked it.

“Sit here and think about your behavior. You don’t wanna go to Dr. Duren again, do you?”

And with that, he left.

Mick badly wanted to talk to Nikki, but he knew his time was out. Hudson was probably already looking all over the asylum for him. He needed to get to the lavatory and pretend he just had the worst diarrhea of his life, or the nurse wouldn’t believe that he spent so long there.

Mick turned around and ran back as fast as his back allowed him to.

[ink-and-dagger]

Do you have any silco x reader fics where reader is like a mother figure for jinx?

Do you mean like a fic that I wrote or a recommendation?

The reader character in my main fic (Drink With Me) is probably more of a big sister to Jinx than mother figure.

But if you’re looking for a fic where reader is extremely maternal toward Jinx then look no further than Secret Ingredient by @sweatandwoe

[harrywavycurly]

I’m so curious to all the authors out there, do y’all prefer it when people reblog the masterlist to your multi part series or do you like a chapter by chapter reblog? Me personally I reblog the masterlist once I’m done reading it and give my thoughts in the tags but I like each chapter as I go, does that make y’all upset? Just wondering because y’all do the hard work and write wonderful things so just let a bitch know how you prefer it to be rebloged and I’ll do it!😂

Me giving each of y’all a smooch for all the writing you do:

[razzle-zazzle]

Hey, I’ve been loving all of your (Ninjago) AUs (planning on reading the other fandoms soon), and they are all amazing! But, I’ve been using the Ninjago Masterlist, and occasionally run into an AU crossing over with the current one and it’s not listed in the Masterlist. I would really appreciate it if you could update the Masterlist so I can devour more of your amazing ideas. Thank you!

Hi! Thank you for your request, and I'm glad you've found enjoyment in my brain vomit!

With all due respect,

I will not be doing that.

Have a nice day!