#i think i'll start using this phrase now

[navadev]

Summer changes

Hi there!

It's summer (wow!) which means i'm not studying. But this doesn't mean i'll develop my game more often because i want to rest like a normal person.

Before the release of 1st interim i spent every day developing to release it as soon as possible. Now i'll rest more but try to maintain a frequency of one post per week.

I also thought i'll learn javascript to create a web-site for my game and multiplayer based on it. But now i realize more likely i'll just rest: walk outside and play games (maybe even read books!).

Have a nice summer and good luck!

[crescentmp3]

my god. help my soul

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[skyburger]

Ohmy god my bad guys i spent like an hour ramblingabout music opinions. at least its in the tags of my own post though could be worse

[tardis--dreams]

I wish i could get buproprion without a prescription this shit is way too good to give up ㅠㅠ

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[teaboot]

As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD

It's the first time I've seen/heard it.

Could you share another one you like using?

Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!

Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')

Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')

Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')

Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)

I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)

Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)

Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)

I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)

Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)

Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)

Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)

Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)

Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)

Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)

Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)

Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)

The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)

Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)

What on God's green earth (What the fuck)

I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)

He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)

Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)

You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)

Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)

Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)

Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)

Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)

Gone belly-up. (Has died.)

We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)

Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)

I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)

Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)

Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)

Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)

He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)

They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)

He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)

Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)

I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)

Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)

I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)

He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)

He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)

Plant your ass. (Sit.)

Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)

He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)

He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)

One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)

I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)

I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)

Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)

Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now

EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite

52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)

Plus some more I forgot:

53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)

54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)

55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)

56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)

57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)

58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)

59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)

60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)

61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)

62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)

63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)

[magicalmanhattanproject]

listen to me y'all. listen. hear me out. i know the hesitating to kill the monsters with your children's face angst is spicy. i know it's tempting. don't fall for it.

phil didn't fucking hesitate for a second. he's the one who got everyone else to stop hesitating. once he logged back in, he attacked the codes immediately and shouted for everyone else to do the same. he hates the imposters and he hates them more for daring to use his children's faces. the angst isn't the idea that he would struggle to obliterate a threat to his family.

no, the angst is what happens after.

the angst is the next time tallulah needs her papa's attention when he has his airpods in and she shakes her maracas and he doesn't hear and she has to decide between asking him about the botantical garden and "it shook its maracas too much so i killed it"

the angst is the next time chayanne is feeling clingy or scared and wants to stick close to his father's side but in the back of his mind is just "it got close to me too much so i killed it"

the angst is that phil can see their fear because he knows them and he reassures him as much as he can that he would never hurt them and he would always know the real them but all of them have to live with the question of "but what if you don't"

the angst is phil giving them passwords and code phrases to memorize to prove its really them to soothe their fear of him not being able to recognize them because he solves his problems in the most straightforward, practical way he can but now they're just scared of what if the codes learn the passwords and phil explains that the passwords are just another layer of protection they're not everything and then they're right back where they started

the angst is two children huddled up together in a hotel away from the windows trying to decide if it would be better for their father to kill them by mistake or die by the hand of a monster wearing their face because he didn't think to strike first

the angst is chayanne privately asking phil the question he's trying desperately to pretend tallulah hasn't also thought of: what happens if wilbur comes back and it isn't wilbur?

the angst is phil replying with "he's my son too. i'll recognize him." and he doesn't remember everything from before the island but there's an old ache in his wing that seems to tell him that recognition may not have been enough

the angst isn't that phil hesitates. the angst is that phil doesn't. the angst is that phil loves his children too much to hesitate. the angst is that sometimes doing the best you possibly can by your children will still fuck them up so so so bad

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗚𝗥𝗪𝗠 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗'𝗦 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦

　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x fashion influencer!reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is a fashion influencer and makes a GRWM only with her boyfriend's, Matt, clothes.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @matthewsspecial

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I used the queen of brazilian GRWM, Lele Burnier, as an inspiration for the way that Y/N would produce her content in here. I'll leave the link to one of her tiktoks just so you can have an idea of what I imagined, even though Lele speaks in Portuguese in it.

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"Hellooooo." Y/N spoke, slightly bent forward facing the screen of her phone, with her hands raised while moving her fingers in a "bye bye" gesture. Her voice slightly thinned due to the excitement she felt to record that content, while a fluffy white robe covered her body. "You asked a lot for a GRWM with Matt's clothes after the Truth or Eat video on the triplets' channel, and I, as always your favorite fashion influencer, decided to do it!"

The girl was in her own closet, which was in a small room in the house next to her shared room with Matt. As soon as Y/N moved into the triplets' house about a year ago, it was decided that that space would be her personal space to record her content, and she turned it into a large closet, filled with clothes, shoes and bags, all of all sizes, colors, models and brands.

Additionally, Y/N decided to include two pink puffs in the corner with a small bookshelf full of books and magazines, so when she wanted a moment to herself, she could stay there. Although she never used the puffs alone, she was always accompanied by Matt or Nick to read or just talk. The boys loved that corner, they always said it had an incredible vibe.

"Today we're not going to use any of the items behind me, I went to Matt's closet and got some options from there." Y/N explained, momentarily pointing to the amount of clothes behind her, before picking up two hangers with pants. "As you already know, we're going to start at the bottom." The girl said smiling, slightly shaking her hands in excitement.

"Here we have two pants, since they make up 90% of my boyfriend's closet." She paused as she rolled her eyes playfully. "One is a baggy jeans with these details as if it was sewn fabric on top of fabric." The girl lifted the jeans in her right hand, bringing it closer to the camera. "And the other is a pair of basic black sweatpants from Fresh Love." She lowered her right hand and raised her left, bringing the hanger closer to the camera.

Y/N paused dramatically as she looked at the two pieces before completely lowering the hanger with the sweatpants and holding the one with the jeans in the air.

"I think we can all agree that jeans wins, right? Sorry, Chris." She smiled at the camera.

Y/N left the sweatpants hanger aside, taking the jeans off their respective hanger and throwing it to the side, keeping them folded in half in her hands.

She quickly grabbed two still-folded t-shirt options and placed them in the front of the jeans.

"Now, for the shirts, we also have two options. Both would be good since they are basic. One is a black t-shirt that Matt bought personalized with Matt + Liam written." Y/N pointed with her index finger on top of the respective t-shirt while holding back a laugh at Matt's photos mixed with Liam's. "And the second one is a navy blue baby look with just a white phrase on the front." She did the same with the baby look, her mind reminding her of the last time Matt wore it, making her cheeks take on a red color, she loved it when her boyfriend used it.

The girl paused for a second, looking at the camera thoughtfully.

"I think we'll wear the t-shirt, I don't know if this baby look would look very good with these jeans because of the waistband." Y/N commented, looking at the pieces briefly.

The video cut to her already dressed in the two pieces.

"For the feet, I thought a lot between my basic black Converse or my black and white Samba, and it's obvious that the Samba won." She spoke while gesturing with her right hand, her left hand busy holding her chosen pair of sneakers. "You know my love for Adidas Samba."

Again the video cut to her with the complete look.

"Now, to give that final touch, we just arrange the t-shirt so that it goes better with the jeans." Y/N spoke as she turned sideways to the camera and tucked the back of her t-shirt into her jeans, so that the front was in a V.

"Finally, it's obvious that accessories couldn't be missing, right?" The girl smiled, turning around and taking one of the small wooden boxes from her closet, opening it and placing the lid on the floor quickly, before moving her fingers through the jewelry there. "I think this outfit calls for silver accessories, mainly because it only has black and white in it." Y/N spoke as she selected a pair of earrings and some necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

The video cut to the girl already decked out in all her jewelry except her earrings.

"Okay, I like where this is going." Y/N spoke to the camera as she buttoned her earrings into her ears, smiling as she finished, showing off her ears quickly.

"I guess we can put on a purse, hm? It's pretty raw around here." Y/N suggested as she gestured her hands across her upper body. "I like this one." The girl quickly turned around and fished one of her purses from the closet.

She turned back to the camera and showed her black Diesel shoulder bag, the brand's logo in silver, and the strap on a silver chain. The girl held the bottom of the bag with her right hand while doing jazz hands for it with her left hand, showing the piece.

Y/N put the purse on her shoulder and took some steps back to show the whole outfit for the camera, before stopping and looking at the front screen of her phone thoughtfully, analyzing her look through it.

"I think there's something missing." She murmured, placing her index finger on her chin as she thought. "I know what it is, come with me." The girl smiled, taking her cell and walking out of the closet, opening the door to her shared room with Matt slowly, entering the space.

"Hi baby, did you finished reco- Wow." Matt's voice sounded in the background, stopping mid-sentence as he analyzed his girlfriend wearing his own clothes.

"Hi baby, not yet." Y/N responded with a smirk, walking to Matt's closet, her phone camera catching the boy lying on the bed behind the girl, his own phone with an open game already forgotten next to him as his blue eyes traveled over her body.

Y/N opened the closet and ran her fingers through the caps there, taking out a completely black New Era one, with just the brand's symbol in white on the front.

She turned around, still holding her cell in her right hand, while her left hand held the chosen accessory.

"Thank you for lending it baby." Y/N said jokingly, blowing Matt an air kiss before leaving the room and heading back to her closet.

The video cut to the girl in front of the camera completely ready, right hand on her waist as her lips stretched into a smile.

"Final look!" She hummed, making a full turn before stopping again, approaching the camera. "I didn't put on makeup because we're not going out and I wanted to do a GRWM focused on Matt's clothes, but I can do a video with makeup that matches this look, I'm thinking that a red lipstick from Kylie Cosmetics that I have here would look amazing." Y/N commented, making the chief kiss gesture at the end of the sentence.

"I didn't think this outfit would look as good as it did, but it turned out super cool, and I hope you loved it as much as I did!" The girl smiled, blowing a kiss to the camera.

The video cut again, Y/N was now in her shared room with Matt again, facing her bed and with her phone in her hands, the rear camera pointed at Matt who was looking at her with a goofy smile and passionate eyes.

"From 0 to 10, how much do you give for this outfit made up entirely of your clothes? Minus the shoes." The girl asked from behind her phone.

"100/10, it looks really great, you can take all my clothes for yourself, they look much better on you than on me." The boy said, moving on the bed until he reached his girlfriend, his arms wrapping around her waist before pulling her onto the mattress.

Y/N let out a scream of surprise followed by a loud laugh, the camera becoming completely blurry due to her sudden movements.

"We're going out to dinner, I won't let you waste all this beauty." Matt spoke against the girl's lips and that was the last thing the camera recorded, before the video ended.

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request:

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 4!!!!

Nearing an end with writing notes for turtles. Thinking of posting about April and Splinter separately, and then a big post for side characters.

Raph, Leo, and Donnie here. Now let's start with

Mikey Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrase: "razzmatazz"

Tendency to "hoo-ha!"

Uses aave/bae

Like Raph and Leo, he will verbalize his attacks, but notably less than the aforementioned two. His most common phrases: "power whip jitsu" (chain moves), and "power fun jitsu" (use of his fire)

Shortens words/phrases in his excitement (i.e. the famous omigosh), but lengthens words in his wonder/amazement like drawing out wow into wooooooow

Uses a lot of idioms, i.e. "give us the 911", "hit the bricks", "you've been workin' a nerve"

Uses a lot of alliterations, especially when describing something

Refers to splinter as "pop" or "dad", with the rare "father" (usually for dramatics)

Will refer to others using "chico", "dude", or "man"

Answers the phone with "shell-o"

Personality:

Oblivious. A lot of stuff goes over his head, or he'll pick on the wrong thing to focus on. Like thinking they're part imitation crab men

Passionate. He throws himself into everything, whether that be cooking, fighting, or art. Sometimes this focus comes at his own detriment (i.e. forgetting to tell his brothers that Meatsweats mutated on t.v. bc he was cooking his pork risotto)

Optimistic, a dreamer. Not one to back down from doom and gloom, and is often among the first of the brothers to take action. Has a lot of perseverance

Believes the best in everyone. He can easily connect and empathize with others, most notably Draxum

Blunt, he doesn't hide his opinions and can accidentally be a little too harsh. On the other hand, he uses his persona of "Doctor Delicate Touch" to purposefully use his bluntness. He doesn't really much to hide on what he thinks about people

Sensitive, he's easily swayed by the emotion or pathos of others (read: gullible). This also mean his ego is easily damaged, which can contribute to his competitiveness with Leo at times and his inferiority complex with Raph babying him

The emotional heart of the team, he keeps the brothers grounded in empathizing with others

Energetic. Mikey's the wildcard. No one can guess what's coming out of his mouth next, and his fighting style is very innovative. All his energy gives him a charming amount of "razzmatazz"

Firey. Mikey's a pretty expressionate guy. He doesn't hide his emotions, and he doesn't really hide his anger. Sometimes this comes out in his bluntness, and sometimes this comes out in strained rage that has a boiling point

Looks up to his brothers. He has a lot of admiration for his older brothers. Whenever he's put in a corner he thinks what would Raph do, he's grateful for Leo's advocacy, and likes spending a lot of time with Donnie and his inventions. He also has a need to prove himself to his older brothers due to his admiration

Miscellaneous:

First to unlock mystic powers

Nicknames/code names: "Doctor Delicate Touch" and "Doctor Feelings" are self-proclaimed titles, "orange pawn" code name by Donnie, "Michael" nickname by Donnie, and "Flavortown" is his video game handle

Named his piggy bank "Mrs. Porky Coin"

Only chooses scissors in rock, paper, scissors

Has the top score in "Pance Pance Revolution" (rise's equivalent of DDR)

Well that's all the turtles for reference notes. I think I'll post Splinter next :)

[petermorwood]

Is "Uh, nope" a frequent US response to lamb?

Or is US lamb somehow different?

This is just a vaguely mystified response to some comments here.

I'm guessing the "G-word" is gamey. I've smelt gamey meat, I don't like it, and Irish lamb definitely isn't that. Also, most people I know don't need to screw up their courage before cooking or eating it.

Mutton, mature sheep-meat, has - or so I've been told, because I've never found it in any local butcher - a much fuller flavour, still not gamey, but more ... robust, pronounced, emphatic, choose your descriptor. It is, after all, a more mature meat.

For terminology reference (though this may not be current any more), "lamb" is up to one year old, "hogget" - remember the farmer's name in "Babe"? - is up to two years old, and "mutton" is over two years.

*****

As I said, I haven't seen mutton anywhere, and haven't HEARD of hogget.

This might be, as I hinted, because terminology has been simplified and all meat from sheep is now "lamb" - and that may answer my own question. Sometimes US lamb has a fuller flavour than, say, Wicklow lamb in Ireland, because sometimes US lamb is hogget or mutton instead.

If so, it restores a possible original meaning to "mutton dressed as lamb". That's now best known as "an older woman dressed inappropriately young", and though the meaning has been around for a long time (this Rowlandson print is dated 1810)...

..."dressing" is also the term for preparing meat for sale.

And THAT makes me wonder if the critical phrase goes beyond fashion into the fine old tradition of adulterating food, and wily butchers transforming elderly sheep into the semblance of younger lamb then charging undiscerning customers accordingly.

I don't know how they might have done it, but if they could then they would. The ways in which 18th-19th century foods were fiddled with is amazing, and more than a bit Yuck.

Or in this case, Ew.

Comments, corrections, criticisms and all the rest are cordially invited.

:->

*****

Side-note; in keeping with the way nicknames get attached to surnames - "Chalky" White, "Dusty" Miller etc. - anyone called Curry usually ended up as "Mutton".

Two brothers at my school had this happen; Tom Curry, the older one, had been "Mutton" for a couple of years, and when his kid brother Will started school he became, of course, "Lamb".

Oh, how we laffed...

*****

ETA: @bellyoftheblast just messaged me this:

It turns out, and I only learned this very recently (I think it's in Hannah Glasse) that "dressed" used to mean "cooked" rather than "prepared for sale". Which would mean "mutton dressed as lamb" would be fast-cooked and thus greasy, unpleasantly tough and decidedly stringy. (Meanwhile I'll never waste good lamb on stew again now that I have a source for mutton -- MUCH better flavour for slow cooking).

Thanks for this snippet! We've got the Prospect Books facsimile of Hannah Glasse 1st ed, so I pulled it down, blew off the dust - it's been a while - and yes indeed, I found the following recipes in just four successive pages:

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton à la Royale",

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton to eat like Veniſon",

"To dreſs Mutton the Turkiſh Way"

"To dreſs Veal à la Bourgoiſe"

Mutton dressed (or dreſsed) as Lamb doesn't get mentioned, probably because Mistress Glasse knew better, though that business of Mutton to eat (taste) like Venison is interesting.

It involves cutting the leg of mutton "in the shape of a Haunch of Veniſon" then steeping it in the sheep's blood "for five or six Hours" before wrapping it in layers of buttered paper and roasting it, basted frequently with butter or beef dripping.

Not quite mutton as lamb, but still mutton disguised as something more expensive...

[nathaslosthershit]

Everyone's Favorite Uncle (TD!OP81)

(Part 6 of Teen Dad [Can be read on its own]) Summary: The 1st time Logan met the Piastri twins and the 3 other times he cemented himself as the favorite honorary uncle. Warnings: Mentions of the 'Tensions Rise' fight. But mostly a whole lot of fluff

1. First Meeting

At 3 months old, the twins hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t family, their parents being extra cautious about bringing them around new people. As expected, these first 3 months as parents had been far from easy for 19 year old Oscar and 18 year old Honey. Especially now that Frances, their daughter, had started teething earlier than usual. Being as it was a painful experience for the newborn, Frances had been non stop crying, causing her brother, Hudson, to cry in return. After days of minimal sleep, the house was a mess and so was everyone in it.

After weeks of asking, Oscar had finally let Logan come over to see the twins. Had he known what the state of his home would be at the time, he probably would have pushed back the visit even more, but Logan refused to let Oscar cancel for something as trivial as a messy house. But he was unprepared for just how messy the home he was entering was going to be.

Fortunately, when Logan had arrived, all seemed well in the house. The twins were awake and not crying, and Honey had gotten a quick power nap in while Oscar tried to clean up the living room. Logan had noticed the lack of energy his long time friend seemed to have when he entered but he had brushed it off as the first few months of fatherhood having drained his energy. They talked for a bit while Honey fed the kids in the other room, all seemed well until…

“Oscar, she is crying again and I just fed and changed her. She isn’t due for a nap either. God, I think it's her teeth again. Can you go get the teething ring? I think it's in the fridge.” Honey asked as she barged into the room, clearly stressed.

Oscar immediately got up to check the fridge while Honey offered a quick hello to Logan. After a few minutes of silence and Oscar making loud banging noises that only made Frances cry harder, he came back in, empty handed.

“It's not there, love. Could you have placed it somewhere else?” He asked, starting to panic as Frances’ cries got louder.

Logan felt awful watching this go down. He knew it wasn’t his fault but guilt ate away at him while he stood there, not knowing what to do.

“Crap, I don’t think I washed it. It may be next to the sink? I'll go wash it while you get the soothing gel. Um… Logan, can you hold her?” Even though Honey had phrased it like a question, Logan realized it was not as she shoved the baby in his hands. Thankfully he had held babies before so he wasn’t so helpless, but this pressure to not hurt the screaming child did make him shake a little.

Sitting down on the couch, he readjusted the baby in his arms, starting to sway her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He watched as his two friends hurried off while he noticed Frances starting to quiet down. Minutes later when both parents barged in, they witnessed magic. Their previously fussy daughter was now cooing and giggling while in the arms of their long time friend. 

“How?” Honey asked, too shocked to get out a full sentence.

“I-I don’t know she just stopped crying and started staring at me.” Logan replied with the same amount of shock in his voice.

“You are a miracle worker.” Oscar said. At this, Logan looked up at the two teen parents, taking in their disheveled states. He would have laughed if it wasn’t so sad. 

An idea came to his head.

“You two go clean yourselves and rest a little, I’ll watch her. Maybe bring Hudson in so I can meet him as well.” Logan demanded. He wouldn’t have used such a commanding tone if he didn’t think they would fight him on this. As much as they needed the extra time to themselves, they were far too humble, maybe even stupid, to ask for help.

With a few quick ‘are you sure' and ‘you are a lifesaver’, the two parents slowly backed out of the room after bringing their son in.

They got two hours to shower and nap before it was time to take their kids back from Logan. 

The twins might have been too young to realize it at the time, but this was the moment he became everyone’s favorite uncle, especially Honey and Oscar’s.

2. First words

Ever since Logan had met the twins a year ago, he had frequented the Piastri household to see the family. It was Valentine's day and Logan, having no plans or someone to spend it with, had stepped up to offer to babysit so the two parents could get a break. While he was happy to watch the kids, he also had ulterior motives for visiting.

For the past few months, ever since the twins turned 1, Oscar had been stressing about how long it was taking them to say their first words. Honey was less stressed than her boyfriend, as she knew she took much longer than most kids to say her first words and ended up fine, but it was getting to the point where she started to get a little cautious. What they didn’t know was that for the past few months Logan had been trying to throw his name into the mix. While Oscar tried to sound out the word “Dada'', and Honey pushed “Mama”, Logan had secretly been trying to get them to saw “LoLo”. He had gotten a ‘Lo’ from Hudson so far but he still wasn’t satisfied. 

“Don’t worry, I have done this so many times already. Go out and have a reasonable amount of fun, two kids is enough for you both for now.” Logan joked as he started pushing Honey and Oscar out of their own house. He didn’t feel the need to sit through a 45 minute lecture he had been given far too many times already. 

Once they had left, Logan began his master plan. While he changed, fed, changed again, washed, and played with the twins, he kept repeating “LoLo” hoping they would finally bite and say it. Sadly though, there was nothing but the usual gibberish from the two.

He felt defeated as he opened the door to Oscar and Honey, who had clearly had a fun night as they came stumbling in. The kids were still up as they had napped late and Honey wanted to put them to bed once she got home.

“Thank you SO much Logan. You are a gift from God as usual.” Honey slurred as she went to change, leaving Oscar and Logan alone to talk.

As Logan packed up to head to his apartment, Oscar said hello to his kids. Just as he walked out the door, Logan heard a very clear and very distinct “LoLo” from behind him. As he turned around, he was met with Hudson reaching out to him and a completely stunned Oscar holding the one year old. 

Realizing he had been caught, Logan entered fight or flight mod.

“Logan, what have you done?” Oscar asked in a stern tone.

“Nothing”

“Logan, talk.” Oscar had really mastered the Dad voice, he realized. Logan was a 20 year old man, he didn’t need to explain shit, but he still crumpled as Oscar looked at him.

“For the past few months I have been trying to teach your children to say “LoLo”. They hadn’t said it yet, I swear, this was the first time.” He rambled as if he was a kid that had been found with his hand in the cookie jar.

Oscar mentally facepalmed at the confession. 

“Alright. Fine. I am mad but I will be even more upset if Honey finds out. Under no circumstances can she know that you did this, or that your name was her son’s first word. Got it?”

Without saying a word, Logan saluted the Australian in front of him and quickly left the household, shaking off the fear Oscar instilled in him but also thrilled he had been Hudson’s first word. 

3. Logan saves the day

Hudson and Frances had been sick for the past week due to a virus they had caught at a playdate. Sadly, as the three year olds got better, their parents got worse.

As Oscar and Honey tried to push through the day, they became miserable due to the fact they couldn’t shake this virus off and that it was a beautiful day out that their kids had to miss out on because their parents were stuck inside. But after both twins gave their best puppy dog eyes to their father, pleading to go out, Oscar had no choice but to call in reinforcements. 

45 minutes later, Logan had both twins in the backseat of his car as he drove to the nearest ice cream parlor.  

Two hours, some big scoops of ice cream, and one park visit later, Logan carried two sleeping toddlers in his arms as he reentered the Piastri home.

4. Distractions

(This takes place during Tensions Rise so if you haven’t read it yet, I would advise you do so)

Wanting to give Honey a moment to collect herself, Logan walked the twins to his driver’s room where he had a very comfortable couch he knew they would fall asleep fast on. He gave them water and tucked them under some extra blankets he had and right before he got up to leave he heard Frances speak up.

“Lolo, does daddy not love us?” the three year old girl asked.

“Franny, why would you think that? Of course he does.” Logan did not feel equipped to have this conversation and started to panic, wondering if he should call for Honey. 

But he knew she needed a bit of space.

“He didn’t have breakfast with us when he said he would and he made mommy cry outside when he didn’t come.” Hudson answered for his sister. 

Logan took a deep breath as he tried to come up with some kind of answer.

“Me and Osc- your dad’s jobs are hard and take up a lot of time. Sometimes things happen and plans change, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less. Everytime he is traveling for work, he is always showing me pictures of you guys and telling stories. That is all he talks about!” Logan said, putting smiles on the two twin’s faces. “You know, when he and your mom found out they were having twins, I was one of the first people he told. We were teammates and he had such a big smile on his face during a team meeting that I forced him to tell me. Ever since then I knew he loved you both so much. Even if he hasn’t been around too much, I have no doubt he adores the two of you.”

With that, he gave the two kids a kiss on the forehead as he walked out of the room, hoping to cheer up their mother as much as he had helped them.

[greentrickster]

Okay, so, been reading some good scumplane (OG!Shen Qingqiu/Airplane) lately, because in this house we support Airplane being loved by terrifying/terrifyingly hot men, but also, like... I do love Moshang just so so much as a ship.

And all this has awoken a mighty need in me.

A need for a Moshangjiu fic with scumplane getting established first and then bringing our favorite popsicle in on things.

Anyway, scenario! Shen Qingqiu starts noticing Shang Qinghua when they're disciples via the classic scenario of being smart enough to realize something is fishy about SQH being the only survivor of a demon attack, begins paying attention to his most anxious shidi, accidentally shows his most anxious shidi the simplest of Human Kindness, accidentally becomes shidi's favorite shixiong, accidentally becomes friends with shidi, accidentally catches feelings. Continues being a Sneaky Bastard in order to figure out what shidi is up to (and now also to confirm shidi is single).

Ah, shidi is entangled with an Ice Demon. This shixiong will make use of his scholarly peak's library to learn all and then decide to- wait. Wait, it's super violent by human standards, but is it- is this demon attempting to... court shidi?

...

Not if SQQ dates him first he's not!!!

There follows a whirlwind romance between SQQ and SQH where no one really knows what's going on, especially the two involved, it involves a lot of shit talking about everyone else in their lives, snacks, and accidental trauma bonding.

Also Airplane being Airplane and accidentally spilling that not only is he also kinda crushing (bad) on Mobei-jun, but also Mobei-jun's entire backstory and please, shixiong, I know it all looks bad but this shidi's house is literally the only place in the world it's completely safe for his king to sleep, everyone deserves to sleep without having to worry about their relatives murdering them for things that aren't their fault from time to time, right, shixiong???

Shen Qingqiu: ...goddammit, the demon's a fellow sad little meow meow. (only not in these exact words because he doesn't know these phrases, naturally)

In a wild, bold, and - dare I say it - shockingly sexy convolution of thought processes and ideas, SQQ manages to finagle SQH into letting him meet with MBJ (SQH nearly has a heart attack three times in the process but it's fine, it's cool, this is his life, this may as well happen, it's fine-).

SQQ: It has come to my attention that my shidi is spying for you on our sect.

MBJ: (glowering at SQH, who is cowering behind shixiong wondering how he got talked into all this)

SQQ: However it also appears that this is merely a cover story and the only thing you really do is use his room to nap. And also that you are quite fond of him.

SQH: (This is it, this is how I die. Again.)

MBJ: (...if I stare straight ahead and don't change my expression, no one will be able to tell that he's right)

SQQ: So anyway I think you should join Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

MBJ: (gears grinding)

SQH: (squawking splutters of protest and confusion)

SQQ: (who speaks panicking!SQH at this point) Stop that, it's perfectly reasonable. He has the head disciple of our logistics peak under his thumb, it would be the simplest thing in the world for him to have you throw the sect into absolute chaos without even trying, then organize an attack, swoop in, and crush us all. He could have done it years ago, but he never has, he never even seems to initiate anything. I don't think he even cares about taking the Northern Throne, I think he's just incompetent about wanting to spend time with you. So he might as well just lie low until our shizuns ascend and then I'll take him on as a disciple on Qing Jing and you two can stop sneaking around like idiots.

MBJ: >8O

SQQ: Are you actually opposed?

MBJ: (folds arms and looks away sulkily, because like... it's true but you don't have to say it like that)

SQH: 8O ...reverse uno...

SQQ: What?

SQH: You're reverse unoing my blorbo!

SQQ: Quit making up word-

SQQ cannot continue because the System just presented the option to accept this potential new plot line (even if it does have the rather confusing title of 'Shidi Has Two Hands'), and holy shit, Mobei-jun seems to be potentially down for it, holy shit, apparently Mobei-jun actually likes me, holy shit, SQQ may have just solved all my problems-?!? This is great, this is fantastic, this is the best day of my life, this- is a long time I'm being allowed to be myself about all this, why is Shen shixiong not interrupting...?

Ah.

It is because I am kissing him full on the lips.

Cool cool cool.

At least I'm gonna die on a high note.

SQQ: O///O o_o (ahem) Shidi's- shidi's a really bad kisser.

SQH: Ah-haha, I can explain-

SQQ: We should work on that. Later.

SQH: (BEST DAY OF BOTH MY LIVES!!!)

MBJ: (I... did not actually hate watching that. Hm.)

Anyway, he agrees to the plan, SQQ and SQH start dating, some more time passes, the previous generation of peak lords ascend, the new generation take their places, and a week later Mobei-jun is an outer disciple of Qing Jing Peak.

The other peak lords are not amused, Qingqiu that is a demon, no.

SQQ: So what I'm hearing is that whole 'Cang Qiong will accept anyone from anywhere' philosophy was a lie then?

He's a demon!

SQQ: Children can't help where they're born. Now if you'll excuse me, I have classes to teach.

First lesson of the day is SQH and SQQ are a package deal, take it or leave it. Second lesson is no canoodling with Shang Shibo until you've finished with lessons and chores for the day. Third lesson is if you see any Bai Zhan disciples hassling our peak's disciples you can break their swords. Just snap 'em in half. Throw them off the peak. Don't kill them, but do make them cry.

SQH, meanwhile, has now seen MBJ in an outer disciple uniform and had a whole bunch of new awakenings on top of all the other things he already knew about himself.

And, in a twist of dramatic irony... Qing Jing's first disciple to ever have demonic heritage decides the dorms are a no-go after one night because, to him, they are broiling hot, how can anyone sleep in this heat, and chooses to go sleep in the wood shed instead.

[patchato]

You should have told me.

(Sanemi x Reader)

TW: Cheating, Angst

I'll be home late.

This was the nth note Sanemi left, just a phrase, nothing else.

As his fiance, it's normal to feel sulky when not told 'I love you' every time he leaves. He always did it back then. Now just feels, different. Somehow.

Hours passed and dinner became cold. I sighed and decided to go to sleep first, he did say he'll be home late. It's been like this for the past 3 months. I ignored it at first since I know he's a hard working man and marriage isn't something to take easy.

We've been engaged for a year. The ring has always brought a smile to my face, especially when I feel down or alone. I sighed and looked at it, I should probably go out tomorrow to have it cleaned. I'll ask for Sanemi's as well.

I looked at the clock while washing the dishes, '10:07' it says.

I pouted, I missed him. Maybe we should go out this saturday. My head thought of the things we can do, I smiled to myself feeling proud. I finished a few more chores and went to bed. The plushie he gave me on our very first date sat on my spot, I held it while slowly drifting to sleep.

My eyes opened and it was still dark. The urge to use the toilet forced me to sit up. I rubbed my eyes and groaned. The time read 5:51 AM, I chuckled. It's like my body knows when to wake up so I can make my future husband his breakfast and lunch.

I turned to look at Sanemi, he was sleeping peacefully. I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, my face scrunched at the smell of alcohol. His colleagues must have dragged him to drink again.

I cooked him eggs, pancakes and made his favourite protein shake. Extra red bean. The shower was already on so I know he's up and getting ready. I sat down waiting for him. His lunch consisted of fresh pickled vegetables, sweet and sour pork along with a pack of chocolates. He may not look like it but he is a big fan of sweets.

Sanemi entered the kitchen and sat down, I perked up watching him eat. He didn't even look at me, it made me feel a little sad. He always compliments my cooking but, he hasn't been doing that these days.

I picked up my fork and started eating myself, I ate slowly as it was still a little early. Going to work earlier and getting home later, it's a little weird if I do think about it. I cleared my head and smiled at him.

"Ah, I have to go." He says looking at his watch. He patted me on the head and proceeded to rush out. I pouted but suddenly remembered I needed his for cleaning.

"Sanemi!" I caught up to him snatching his hand where his ring was. "I'm in a r-", I cut him off by telling him I just needed his ring for cleaning, I looked at his ring finger but it wasn't there. We both stood there, I felt his hand tense and he pulled his hand from mine.

Before I can ask him where it was he pulled the ring out from his bag and handed it to me, "Sorry, I forgot to put it back on last night. I didn't want it to get lost." He smiled and patted my head again. Before I can even say goodbye he was already out.

It feels weird. Why is that?

I shrugged it off and began to get ready to go out after finishing house chores. I texted him that I'll be meeting with some friends for lunch and won't be home for a few hours.

Sure he didn't say he'll be working late but It's better to tell him where I am in case he comes home earlier. I took the rings for cleaning, after that I met my friends and we settled on a cafe near the sea.

We talked about my engagement and what has already been planned. I already picked the bridesmaids and the maid of honor. Everyone was excited until we talked about how I've been lately.

They gave me weird looks and they looked worried. "We don't want you to over think darling but, maybe you should ask his colleagues how he's been at the office." Kanae suggests, the other girls agreed sighing. "Why? I'm sure he's working hard for the wedding." I giggled, "Oh sweet (Y/N)." Shinobu brushes my hair, "You're, too kind for this." She adds. 'Are they saying that he might be out with some other woman?' I thought.

I understood what they're worried about but, I trust Sanemi and I know he loves me. "Thank you for your concern, maybe I'll talk to him soon about it." I answer, I have been thinking about it too but I didn't want to think that way about him. I love him, and with love comes patience and trust.

The meeting ended once their husbands contacted them that they were home. I admit I'm a little jealous, I don't exactly get what they do from their relationship but again, Sanemi is working hard for our future. We all bid our goodbyes and went home.

To my surprise, Sanemi's car is already parked outside the house. I felt excited as it will give me time to tell him that I want to go out this weekend. I unlocked the front house. His shoes were placed messily on the floor. It was weird as he is normally a well organized person. I didn't think any of it and just placed his shoes where it belongs.

I took off mine and began walking upstairs, I felt happy. I can spend time with him. These thoughts instantly vanished when I saw maroon, stiletto shoes which were peeking from inside our bedroom. I don't wear stilettos. 'Maybe it's a gift from him' I thought to myself. I walked closer to the door and that's when it was clear. He brought another woman into our bedroom.

I didn't want to look inside but I stood there looking down while listening to the moans that came from inside our room. I can hear them, making love on the bed we shared. My head was starting to hurt. A tear fell from my eye, then one after the other. I stopped myself from sobbing by covering my mouth. It hurts. It really hurts.

Is this what my mother felt back then? I tried my best not to end up like that. But here I am. I feel stupid, I shouldn't have turned a blind eye to the late nights. Him not wearing his ring. The strong smell of floral perfume on his clothes. He hates floral perfume, he said he loved that I wore vanilla perfume rather than floral. Was he lying? He probably did.

I stepped out and walked to the nearest park and sat down on the bench. I just sat there, thinking of what'll happen now. My face was dry with tears and the headache was still there. The sky began to turn dark but I didn't want to go back to that house. I sent Mitsuri a text that I wanted to talk to her. She responded immediately.

I began my journey to her house, my heart heavy. I don't know what else to think. I played with the ring on my finger, It's slowly starting to look ugly on me. I, don't want it. I took it off and shoved it inside my bag and sighed. The cab arrived at Mitsuri's house. I knocked and Iguro (my brother) greeted me with their daughter, Hana. I greeted them back and kissed the child on her forehead.

'I could've had a family with him', my head was starting to fill up with thoughts again. He invited me in and to my surprise, Giyuu, Genya, Shinobu, Kanae and Kyojuro was also there. I sat down in between Shinobu and Kanae. They stared at me, as if waiting for me to say something. I tried to talk but my tears talked for me. Kanae hugged me and I cried on her shoulder. Small sobs turned to big ones, it felt like I was fighting to breath properly. Shinobu was running my back and the others just watched.

"What's wrong (Y/N)?" Shinobu asks taking my face in her hands, It was hard to talk I stumbled with my words but she knew exactly what I was crying about when she heard 'another woman' from my mouth. They let me cry it out, they comforted me. I can hear my brother cursing in the background.

An hour went by and I began to calm down Mitsuri began to prepare their dinner and it felt like it was best for me to go back home - to that house. "Hey, you can rest here." Mitsuri says, Iguro agreed. "Rest here for the night." He urges me, I smiled and nodded. Grateful that I have such good friends. It made me feel better.

I stared at the sky, thinking of how I'll confront Sanemi tomorrow. I spent another hour crying inside the bedroom once they left me to rest. I'm not sure how to rest with such a stressful thing to think about. Should I think about it? I don't even know anymore.

Before they left, Genya went up to talk to me. His words comforted me, he has always been softer than his older brother.

What's going to happen now? I haven't been working for 1 year due to Sanemi insisting that he work for the both of us, I'm unsure when to live after breaking up with him. I'll make it work. I'm, tired. I fell asleep on the warm bed, this time my body didn't wake up to make breakfast for someone. I slept throughout the night until noon.

I ate breakfast with Iguro and his family, we talked about what to do next after my talk with Sanemi. They offered to live in one of their condominiums that they rent out from up town. I accepted the offer, I'm thankful.

I felt nervous, I feel like throwing up. Iguro dropped me off in front of the house. Sanemi's car was nowhere to be found, God knows where he is. I signed as the anxiety left my body. Iguro said he'll pick me up before sunset so I have enough time to pack my things.

I took out my bags and stuffed them all with my clothes, I didn't touch the dresses Sanemi bought me back then from our anniversary. The jewelry he said looked beautiful on my skin. The plushies, the music box that had the tune of our prom dance. The very night he promised to marry me. It was such a beautiful night, all the memories. The kisses, the night we spent together. All thrown away. I felt like crying again, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to get sick, I need to find a job after this is over.

I heard the front door open, his footsteps echoed through the house. His presence that once brought warmth and comfort now made me feel uncomfortable, it made me want to get away from him.

The bedroom door opened, I turned to him. Our eyes met, he looked tired from who knows what. "You're back." I say, he smelled of that strong perfume again. "Yeah." He replied not looking at me. My chest started to feel tight again and I can feel the tears build up. Did he even wonder where I was last night? Did he try to look for me? Probably not, he didn't even send me a text nor ask my friends if they knew where I was.

"I stayed at Mitsuri's last night." I told him with a sigh, I began to play with my ring once again. I really want to take it off now. "Why?" He asks while he takes off his necktie. The very tie that I used to always do for him. Sadly, I won't be doing anything for him anymore. My eyes wandered to his finger, no ring again. I chuckled to myself which Sanemi seemed to notice. "What's wrong with you?" He asks in an annoyed tone, how dare he? I didn't answer and just stared outside. "You've been real weird lately." He adds, "Am I?" I asked him before looking back down.

I heard him sigh and groan, "Not right now (Y/N). I'm tired." He ruffled his hair and went into the bathroom. The sound of the open shower filled my ear. How should I go about this? Do I just tell him right away? Maybe that would be better. He stayed in the shower for some time, probably clearing his head. What does he have to think of anyway? He's got two women swooning over him. One slaving away and the other squeezed herself in the relationship. I didn't see the woman he was with but I bet she was beautiful. The bathroom door opened revealing a fully clothed Sanemi.

"Sanemi." I called him before he left the bedroom. I can tell he didn't want to be in the room by the way he turned around to face me. It hurt me. He used to look at me in such a loving way, now it's just this. Whatever this is. "Your ring, it's missing again.", that one sentence made his eyes widen and he immediately started to look for it. He grabbed his bag and went through all the pockets. He forgot. He forgot I took it out for cleaning yesterday. I left it on the kitchen counter before I left for Mitsuri's. So he really didn't look for me. How funny. The face he made, the panic in his eyes. It made me laugh a little bit. "What are you laughing about?" He yells. I stopped and stared at him, "It's on the kitchen counter." I answered sighing, I should probably send Iguro a text now. "Why is it there?" He asks confused, "I had it cleaned yesterday. I left it on the kitchen counter when I dropped by yesterday." I answered, "Dropped by?" He looked even more confused. We stared at each other, he really is clueless.

"Shinazugawa, I don't want to be with you anymore."

Sanemi's face softened, he still looks confused. He looked stupid. "Wha-," I cut him off before he can ask, "I know." That one phrase sent him stumbling over the bags on the floor over to me. Seems like he didn't notice it. "(Y/N), please, I'm not..." He tried to form his excuses. "Please don't stop me, I don't have any intentions on hearing your excuses." I sighed. I wanted to cry, but that'll only make me stay with him longer. God knows I'll give in to his pleas if I stay longer.

"No please. I'm sorry. (Y/N)." He pulled me in a hug. I didn't say anything, I let him scramble with his words. His touch made my skin crawl. I began to struggle out of his grasp. It took me a minute to push him away, he's as strong as always. "You already chose your other woman." I say, "You brought her to our bed." I shifted my attention to the bed. Shinazugawa began to caress my face, spouting things that I'm not paying attention to.

"You did such a disgusting thing, Shinazugawa." More pleas and apologies fell from his lying lips. I laughed a little, suddenly remembering the first time I've seen him cry. It was over their family dog. The one their mother left him to take care of. "Why are you laughing..." It was more of him asking himself than me. "I, no longer feel anything towards you." His tears fell faster as he began apologizing again.

"Makes me wonder if I really did love you."

The tears flowing from his eyes didn't stop, he was at the floor now. On his knees, begging me to stay. "Did you even think about me when you brought someone else over." I mumbled, of course he didn't. The image of the man I once loved made my eyes sore. I took off the engagement ring, took his hand stopping him from crying and began to walk out the room. Shinazugawa began to run after me but I didn't give him a chance to pull me back as I opened the door of Iguro's car and locked it. I was finally able to breathe, then the tears came in. My heart hurt seeing him cry. Of course I loved him, I still do even if he did such a horrible thing. I wanted to hurt him too in a way.

He should have told me. We could have talked about it, whether he still felt something for me or if he fell out of love. We could have saved us.

Shinaguzawa was starting to make a scene outside, banging on the car crying all while trying to stop Iguro from taking my things from the house. All my bags we're finally in the car and it was time to leave. Leave everything behind. "Hey.", Iguro calls. He gave me a smile, "You'll be alright."

Yeah, I'll be okay. I smiled back and we drove off. I saw Shinazugawa run after the car. I couldn't help but cry. I wanted to get out of the car and hug him. I don't want him hurting too. But this is for the best. I sent him a text, one last time. Then I blocked him on everything. I wiped my tears and steadied my breathing.

'You should have told me.' Shinazugawa read the text. He couldn't call her anymore. He cried all the way back to his now empty house. He stared at the ring on his hand while cursing at himself. He knew this will be the last time he'll see her.

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Hey everyone! I missed tumblr so I'm back haha! Sorry I've been gone for some time. What do you think of this? Send your votes! I also take requests now so please don't be shy to send me a message! lotsoflove♡

[iid-smile]

Hiii, I know this is probably a weird request and if it's triggering or just something you'd not want to write I totally understand!!! Just was thinking if you could write Nanami or Toji with a s/o who's always had their family manage their eating in an obsessive way so they sometimes have trouble with it and their weight. And they'd help them through it???

If not it's totally okayy, I also love your work a lot hust wanted to swoop that in here🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lots of lovee

perfect portion , fushiguro toji

x gn!reader , toji swearing, cw: mentions of scales, weight, not eating enough, body image, and food.

author's note: i decided to go with toji (which was very much a struggle) since i thought i had enough of nanami on my page (its a love hate relationship at this point) but if you want him instead, or don't like this one (i dont like it either because i clearly gave up at the end) slide in again and i'll deliver just for you!!!! 🫵😤 also i didn't proofread because i pushed through my writers block for this

thank you for your love anon! 🫶 i hope you enjoy!

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the jingling of keys in the distance was a sign that toji finally came home. you could hear his heavy footsteps walking around the house, before coming towards the bedroom where you lay on the bed.

after opening the door, he lets out a sigh. "stay awake for me, sugar. 'm gonna order us pizza." his voice is barely comprehensible from his mumbles, but since it's such a common phrase, you understand what he says.

"oh..." your voice lightens and a short, near sheepish chuckle comes from you. "no, no thanks. i think ive had enough meals today."

he so obviously screws his face from what you said, not that you're looking, and he drops off a few belongings that were in his pockets onto the dresser before glancing over his shoulder. "what?"

in surprise, you look up from your phone. yes, sometimes toji could be a bit pushy with what he wants, but you're sure that the way you said no was obvious that you did not want to be convinced about it. did he not hear you right? "i said i ate enough today."

he scoffs, turning around to face you. "uh...no the fuck you didn't?"

"i did...? i'm sure i did. i told you."

"oh, come on. do you think i'm stupid now? is that it?"

"what?"

"i called you at three in the afternoon, and only then were you telling me you were having breaktast. you woke up way before me." he gestures over to the clock on the wall. "and look at the time. it's nine, and i only saw one dish in the sink."

"yeah. i ate."

"okay. fine, fine. i'll assume the best." he sighs in resignation, turning around and eyeing a piece of paper that he just now noticed was on the dresser. "and what the hell is this? what d'ya need these numbers for, huh?"

that was not supposed to be there for him to see. your eyebrows furrow, but you try to play off your tone as natural. "y'know... from the scale 'n stuff..."

"scale? what scale—? you bought a scale without telling me?"

mistake. well, your first mistake was not asking what he was actually referring to. he didn't notice that anyways, but your second was accidentally telling him that you bought a scale. "well, every house has one, don't they?"

toji was genuinely so flabbergasted to the point where he had to shake his head in disbelief. "not this one, no. because nobody needs one." his steps are obnoxiously loud as he approaches your side."hell, this isn't even about money anymore. why would you need a scale of all things?"

"..." his responses were fast. too fast, and faster than usual. it would've been easier if this was over text, but in person? it's ten times more difficult to think of an excuse. "because i need one." was the first one you thought of.

"who's been telling you to use a scale?"

"nobody..."

"nobody?"

"nobody."

"somebody, clearly. you think you just wake up one day, start writin' down your weight like it's important." he scrunches up the paper, tossing it off somewhere out of your sight. "it's fine, you look fine, and 'm ordering pizza because i want you to eat it."

"and i shouldn't—" you look down at your phone that you put down next to you at some point in the conversation, a notification flashing on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to that. you were looking at the time. around about now would you be getting a weight check...

"who the fuck's sayin' that? sayin' for you not to eat like that? 'cause it's not me." and he leans in closer to you. "so, who's tellin' you to use a scale?"

silence. long and loud. this was one of the last things you'd ever want to admit to him. he's a guy that's extremely proud of his strength, stays in great shape, unreal body proportions, and you're just... you. there's nothing special about you, about your appearance, about your body.

"listen, i won't do anything you don't want me to..." his face suddenly grows to look conflicted, and though the times he does are rare, he makes an effort to soften his voice. "tell me one thing. are you hungry?"

as much as you want to hesitate, as much as you want to put your foot down and say no, your stomach is telling you something different. you're more surprised that the entire time toji has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't heard how ungodly audible your stomach growls can really get. the urge is unstoppable; you just had to nod.

"then what are you waiting for? i'll order whatever you're craving." and out the bedroom he goes, making his way over to the house phone in the hallway. "if it would make you feel better, i'll eat the same amount as you do, so i can show you that it's okay. no more small portions for you."

"and if it makes me unhealthy? if i get sick?" you sound a little amused.

the tapping noises on the phone stops. toji didn't think about that part. "...i'll take you to the hospital. tell me what you want to eat 'n give me the takeout number."

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