#i'm going to blame the fact that i'm basically barely sleeping

[simsmadegeeky]

THIS POST HAS BEEN UPDATED

I realized that I could make all our lives easier by just adding preview pics to my spreadsheets with my notes on defaults! Now, you'll find two (current wip) preview sheets/tabs that will have preview images of all hairs I currently have defaulted. I've also moved the link up to the top of post (why did I put it at the bottom again)?

I'm thinking it's also quite likely that I'll eventually put links to the individual downloads on the spreadsheet as well.

82 Default Hairs Uploaded

to my sfs default-female folder!

Click here for a spreadsheet with list of defaulted hairs (sheets 1 & 2), as well as previews (sheets 3 & 4).*

Sometimes you have to live with the honesty of your faults and one of mine is that, for whatever reason, I have a huge block when it comes to writing posts about the default hairs I make. I don't know why but here we are. And I've been sitting on these 82(!!!!) hairs trying motivate myself to make a post for them for ages. (With these, I've done all but 52 of the female hairs!)

So, y'know, fuck it! Here they are! Every single .rar file has an image of the hair and credits for anything involved with the hair that I could find: creator, converter (if applicable), original defaulter, the texture (Sunshine), who originally textured it (mostly me but sometimes another sunshiner), the creator of the model I used, and anything else (like the default skins and eyes I use) are on my bodyshop resource page. I'm hoping that at some point I'll make individual posts for hairs but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*In case you don't know what I mean by "sheets", if you look down at the bottom right of the spreadsheet, you'll see four tabs (female, male, preview-f, preview-m). Each of those tabs is a sheet.

[antlersaint]

missing quinn so much you call her just to get off to her voice 🙏🏻🙏🏻

—🕷️.

basically the ask 😋

it's late, when you call. around ten or eleven. you know quinn was sleeping prior, or at the very least falling asleep, because her voice is raspier than usual. relaxed, soft, soothing. it does nothing to help your current predicament; the ache between your thighs that only she can bring relief to. too bad you're neighborhoods away.

"hey. everything okay?" the concern lacing her tone makes your heart flutter, and you just barely manage to swallow down your whimper before it passes through the receiver. what exactly are you supposed to tell her? 'sorry to bother you, just needed to have you talk to me while i'm three fingers deep in my own cunt'? no. jesus. you might be desperate, but you're not lacking decorum. for the most part, anyway.

evidently though, your distracted silence only serves to worry her further, because she speaks up again. or tries to. "what's—" "quinn." the phone picks up on her breath hitching, and you've never been more grateful to the damn device until now. there's another beat before you hear her again, and this time you hang onto every strained word. "oh. is... are you— uh." she laughs, and it's breathy. you've caught her off guard, and you relish in the fact, enjoying your brief moment of listening to her try to pull herself properly together with a clear of her throat. (you imagine a hard swallow too, but obviously that's not exactly audible.)

your hand slides down from where it'd been sitting atop your stomach, fingers curling around the hem of what you realize is her shirt. you'd put it on with this in mind but had temporarily forgotten it in the process of calling her, lacking other garments underneath for the sake of easy access. fuck, if quinn was here she'd eat you alive. you can picture it; her lips and teeth on your skin, her touch a scalding brand. thoughts you don't realize you'd been lost in until her voice is pulling you back and you're gasping at the sensation of your own touch between your legs.

"stay with me, baby." quinn's jaw is tensed, you can tell from the force of her words. is she getting off too? the image of her head thrown back against the pillows, your name on her lips, works wonders and you actually moan this time, hips tilting up for a better angle. yeah, there we go. "i wanna hear you. be good for me and let me hear you."

well, it's not like you're gonna object.

not bothering to stifle yourself any further, you focus fully on the task of bringing yourself to that peak, rutting against your hand like a pathetic puppy. you know she'd refer to you as such if she could see you, too. avoiding giving you any pleasure herself, just watching with a heavy gaze and taunting words. if you were good, maybe she'd clean you up afterwards. should you be so lucky.

"close," you choke out, and quinn's response is garbled to the point of being incomprehensible, but you're not listening anymore anyway. no, you're too busy being lost in the fog of lust and need where your brain used to be, jaw clamping down on the fabric of your pillowcase when you finally, finally get there. whining quinn's name over and over until you're left with just the pleasant floaty feeling of after. a quick glance at the screen confirms she's still on the line but it's silent; and you assume it was muted on her end either because she got there herself or misclicked while trying to get there herself. regardless, you're to blame.

once you get bored of watching the seconds tick up with still no response, you hang up and settle on texting her goodnight instead—though upon the realization of your fingers being soiled when removed from between your thighs, you get an admittedly evil idea.

quinn had muted herself during her own orgasm, but fell asleep directly afterward, exhausted and euphoric. she wakes up uncomfortably positioned, what'd happened dawning on her a split second later in a slight panicked clarity. she unlocks her phone to apologize; only to be met with the file you'd sent of your mess-coated fingers popped in your mouth, your lips parted in a near pornographic way, strings of salvina and cum keeping them connected.

oh, she's gonna ruin you tonight.

[ambiguous-avery]

Heyy Avery, so here's my first request ever hehe! Hope it works for you <3 I was thinking of the time after Dean's back from Hell and he and Sam part ways because they think it's better this way. So, heavy angst! Dean goes on solo hunts and even though things go well for a while, he one night almost gets himself killed. Bruised, bloodied and desperate without his little brother's usual backup, he finds himself knocking at some random stranger's door moments before collapsing, which happens to be readers house!

You can ofc just tweak and change everything if this idea doesn't resonate with you! I'm curious what you're gonna cook up 'cuz I know you get Dean's angsty side 😭

Nowhere Else to Go

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1757

Summary: Fresh outta hell, Dean finds comfort in throwing himself back into hunts. But he’s not the only one who’s changed. Sam’s different. Too different. Not the Sam he sold his soul for. They just need some time apart. A few solo hunts. Then things will go back to normal. He’s capable of that. But it doesn’t change the fact that Dean’s grown used to having his little brother around.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, angst, s4!Dean, detailed talk of cleaning and stitching wounds

A/N: Ahhh first request! I’m so excited, and I hope I did your idea justice!

Everything hurt.

God, he felt like h–no. Guess he couldn’t use that phrase anymore. Not now that he knew what hell was really like. He might have laughed at the absurdity of that revelation if he didn’t think it would make him pass out behind the wheel. He needed to get back to the motel room. Needed to get patched up.

“Hey, we got–” The passenger side of the bench was empty.

Right.

No Sam.

How had he forgotten?

He might’ve hit the curb. He hadn’t hit the curb since he was a teen. He blamed the blood in his eyes. Or the metallic taste in his mouth. Or the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. He tried to bring his focus back to the moment, but everything seemed to blur together in a dizzying swirl of colors and lights. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he fought for control. This wasn’t the motel’s parking lot. Dean couldn’t remember where exactly he was. Or how he got there.

He stumbled out of the Impala, barely catching himself from falling flat on his face. His boots dragged on the sidewalk of the quiet neighborhood. How late was it? Too late. Houses were dark. Except one. One still had lights. He needed it. He knew he did.

His knuckles were too raw to knock, so he pounded on the door with the butt of his fist instead. It was harsh. Too harsh. If anyone answered the door, they would likely shoot him on the spot. Oh well. Wasn’t like he hadn’t died before. The door opened. A pretty girl stood in the doorway. He tried to smile.

“Don’t suppose you could spare a bandaid?” 

He wasn’t sure how he managed to talk you out of calling the police or even letting him into your home. But he wasn’t complaining. In the moment, his survival depended on your kindness, and he wasn’t about to question the lifeline. Your couch was soft and plush, and he should’ve felt guilty about bleeding out on it. He couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Exhaustion sank its claws deeper into him with each passing moment.

Pills rattled nearby, and next thing he knew, you were pressing tablets into one hand and a cool glass into the other.

“Come on. Advil and Tylenol. Both of them together are basically Vicodin without the high,” you said softly. He swayed slightly, and you placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I could use a high right about now.” Words felt heavy on his tongue. Maybe you’d let him sleep here. Just for the night. Even if it was only on the couch. It would be nice to sleep somewhere without a shitty mattress. You laughed, the sound light and tinkling.

“Couldn’t we all?”

You helped him down the pills and water. It was cold and went down like a balm that could soothe his very soul. He looked at you. Even with one eye swollen shut and the other one with blood crusted around it, Dean could clearly see that you were out of his league. Too good for a stray dog like him. Who was he to steal a night from someone so pretty?

“Y’know how to stitch someone up?” he asked as you pushed something cold into his hand. You helped guide it to his face, and he realized that it was a cold press wrapped in a towel. It felt good against his heated skin.

“Not well. But since you insist on not going to a hospital, I’m sure it’ll be better than nothing. I’ll be right back.” Your touch left him, and he found himself missing it immediately. He wished you would touch him more, just so he could remember what another person felt like. He closed his eyes. If it weren’t for the gash across his back, Dean was sure he could pass out right then and there on the couch.

Footsteps padded back into the room and all at once, Sam was at his side, gently wiping away the blood from his face with a warm washcloth. He didn’t remember Sam’s hands being this soft. Or soft in general. Or maybe he had just forgotten how hands that didn’t want to hurt him felt on his skin. He leaned into the warmth and felt the tension slip away from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure where you found Sam or how you knew that he was who Dean needed at the moment. But he didn’t need to know the details. Sam was here, and everything would be okay.

“Could’ve used your help on this hunt,” he mumbled as Sam pressed a piece of alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek. He hissed in pain and flinched despite himself. It was fine, though. Sam had seen him in much worse states, and at the moment, Dean could go for some brotherly ribbing. It was normal. He liked normal. Normal was good. Sam’s usual tough love never came, though. No “you’ll be fine”s or “quit whining”s came. Instead, it was just a quiet,

“Hm?”

“Son of a bitch had backup when I ganked him. Never realized that a goddamn camel could have a ghost too.” Sam paused in what he was doing, but Dean didn’t need to look at him to know that Sam was looking at him confused. He continued. “Yeah. A camel. Damn thing trampled me.” He adjusted the ice pack in his hand to more firmly press it against his swollen eye once Sam had finished cleaning the blood from his face. Sam gave a quiet noise of acknowledgement. 

Alright maybe Sam was still pissed about Dean calling him a freak. That was a low blow on his part. But was it really if it was true? Making a deal with a crossroads demon was very different than utilizing a demon’s psychic powers. They were supposed to be a force of good in the world. They were no better than the creatures they hunted if they resorted to the same sort of dark shit their enemies used. He could forgive Sam for it. He always did. He just needed Sam to stop using that weird demon mojo.

With most of his face cleaned up, Dean set the cold press down for a moment before grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up and over his head, groaning slightly as it dragged uncomfortably along the dried blood.

“What’re you doing?” Sam sounded appalled. His voice sounded strangled, higher pitched than usual, and Dean could’ve rolled his eyes at him if he had the energy to look at him.

“Need you to stitch me up. Guy had a damn bayonet.” Dean turned and laid down on the couch. He probably should’ve put a towel down so he didn’t bleed on it. Oh well. The motel took a deposit for a reason. They could keep it.

Wordlessly, Sam set about cleaning the long gash across his back, and Dean grit his teeth, readying himself for the familiar sting of a needle through flesh. The scent of disinfectant registered in his brain, and he realized that he had barely felt Sam cleaning the wound. It stung, but he needed it. Needed the pain. It reminded him that he was alive. That he was here. With Sam. With family. All he needed was family.

He never thought he would find comfort in the pain. It cleaved his flesh. It ached in his bones. But that’s as far as it went. It wasn’t deep enough that it scarred his soul and left marks where only he could see them. It didn’t leave anything behind that time couldn’t heal. He was sure that time couldn’t heal a soul. The years there had rended his soul, leaving it in tatters he didn’t even know was possible. But better him than anyone else. Better him than Sam. 

The first pinch of the needle through skin pulled him out of his thoughts. The world came back into focus. He wasn’t used to being treated so gently. It was a nice change. He’d never say it out loud, but it was nice to be the one being taken care of for once. Sam’s touch stayed soft, even going so far as to gently pull the skin taut so the needle didn’t needlessly pull. At this rate, the tenderness was enough to lull him to sleep. The cold compress against his cheek as he rested his face against it was a better pillow than nothing. He had had worse.

Sam was quicker than usual, or maybe the pain meds had kicked in enough that he hadn’t noticed every pinch. That was a nice tidbit of information. Where had Sam learned it? Probably Stanford. Would’ve been nice of him to impart that information earlier on in their hunts, though. He could’ve used some Vicodin-level pain management much sooner in life. But hey, better late than never. The presence at his side moved.

“Sammy,” he called out, hand reaching and grabbing. Sam’s wrist was so thin. What had happened to him in Dean’s absence? Sam must’ve not taken care of himself. He hadn’t been around to take care of Sam. He cursed. Stupid. He was so stupid. Even sacrificing himself for Sam didn’t feel like enough. He needed to be the responsible one. Against his body’s protests, Dean tried to push himself up from the plush of the couch. A hand pressed to his shoulder stopped him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. Please. Don’t leave again, Sammy. I just can’t see you go down that path. I lost you once. I can’t lose you again.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not Sammy. But I won’t go anywhere.”

And suddenly, the illusion shattered. 

Sam wasn’t there. 

Sam had never been there.

You were.

He blinked, looking over at you. Your eyes were so kind. Had anyone ever looked at him so sweetly before? You were worried. He could see it. No one worried about him. He was supposed to worry about others. His hold on your wrist loosened. He wet his lips, tongue ghosting over the dried blood there, and Dean suddenly felt more exposed than he cared to be. He sat up despite your insistence and reached for his bloodied, discarded shirt. He needed to leave. Get back to the motel room. Your gaze was too curious. Too probing. Too innocent. It would be a tragedy if you cared for him.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean Taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @jollyhunter @bettystonewell

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

[diamondmeadow]

Please talk to me about ante meridiem (did I spell that right 🤔) ch 3 and 4!

Yes, ante meridiem, you spelled it right. Fun fact, ante meridiem means before noon, if you have not googled the meaning (which you didn't have to).

God, what should I say. This fic! Actually, so much to say about it. Forgive the incoming ramble.

For those who have no idea (I know you do, Maddie, because you read the first two chapters), the basic premise of the fic is that Sirius, a rockstar, comes back home from a long tour with a big fat artist block. His band is taking a break to recuperate and create, and he is restless because with no ideas he can't do either. In the meantime, other things happen though. He ends up wandering into a random London pub and meeting someone completely not random, his long lost (sort of) childhood best friend, James Potter. Basically, the fic is about reunions, rediscoveries, and bringing back the muse.

I started writing ante coming out of another big fic project, and it's an understatement to say that I was burned out. Not that I didn't have any ideas, I had too many, as usual, plus this was a project in cooperation with amazing @sorenphelps (meant to be written for the prongsfoot reverse big bang) who provided a ton of great ideas as a rockstar Sirius is one her fave tropes. But I just couldn't seem to be able to get anything sensible down, which is funny considering it's a fic about artist block. Dear Lau called it "method writing." Indeed. None was happening. And then when I finally somehow managed to get something done, I ended up in a hospital with barely two chapters finished. AO3 curse? Let's blame it on that. I finished the second chapter on my phone in the hospital bed. I was glad for any bits at that point. Which leaves us with...

... the chapter three and four still unfinished months later. (Did I mentioned this was supposed to be a oneshot by the way?) Well, I'm still adamant on finishing if for nothing else then for the COPIOUS amount of art Lau made for the fic and that still needs to be posted with the story. That already tells you that it's actually at least all planned out. She did suggest finishing the fic as a comic (and we do know she could do that easily), but also I actually want to finish writing it. I still want to live through things with this version of prongsfoot. I wonder what I could say specifically about the last two chapters without giving the story completely away. I think it's safe for me to reveal that it's a happy ending story, can't be anything but that because I'm a happy ending gal. Yes, the boys will find their way to each other and yes, Sirius will be able to write music again. All goes hand in hand.

The two chapters are full of dogs, yet unsaid things being revealed sending Sirius into even bigger crisis, impromptu sleep-excused cuddles, a gig with embarrassing things happening that are to be retold during pub nights for years (a hint on these in my fic shirt. actually). And of course, a bit (or maybe a lot more than that) of smut because prongsfoot fucking is one of my favourite things in the world (I'm sorry, I'm just human, okay!). Fun fact no.2, this is one of the fics for which I had decided the title before I even started writing it, it's a name of a song that reminded me of prongsfoot. I didn't know how to incorporate the title until the very end of the second chapter, but then it suddenly became very clear. I truly can't wait for this to be finished because I want to share the story so bad with everyone.

That said, here you go, the fic playlist (always a wip with these) featuring songs used in the fic but also just general prongsfoot songs.

And lastly, just a teeny paragraphs from the start of the chapter three.

September 7th Sirius avoids the pub for several days. He’s giving himself a chance to breathe through new revelations. Or is it just rediscovering old truths? He is still avoiding the call to Asha, so he wouldn’t know (it’s a lie, he knows). Though more than by simple breathing through, Sirius deals with the realisation that he is (still?) attracted to James Potter, the best friend once removed once returned, by punching and kicking the crap out of the sandbag at his boxing studio. Frank gives him raised brows and firm slaps to his back with slightly concerned All good, mate? Sure, it is. He is so good. Great even. Fine and dandy. Every evening he sits down in his flat, body aching, every evening he grabs his guitar or opens the piano lid and adds a little more to his new arrangement.  Sunday evening his phone beeps quietly while he’s at it again and he doesn’t notice until he is about to take a shower before bed. Jamie: Tomorrow at 10:30, Dark Forest Shelter, Battersea. Sirius frowns at his phone. It’s not that he doesn’t get that this is an invitation. 

Anyway, shameless advertisement at the end. Read the first two chapters of ante meridiem. with amazing art by @sorenphelps

-HERE-

[stardustluvs]

Hi, I loved your writing for Nolan✨️✨️

Is your order open? If not, you can disregard this ask

my idea: after recording "7 days drifting at sea" Nolan arriving home and just wanting to rest his girlfriend. I need more Nolan stuff! he is so funny and cute

Fighting Sleep - Nolan X Reader

Word Count: 838

Pairing: Nolan Hansen x fem!Reader

Summary: What the req says

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Am I the Nolan blog yet?

Requests are open! || masterlist

It had already been nearly an hour since Nolan’s been home, and he was visibly exhausted. You couldn’t really blame him either. He had been gone a whole week on a raft in the middle of the sea, and you hadn’t really had a way to keep in contact with him.

He hugged you for what felt like ten years, not that you were complaining, the second he saw you.

It was probably the longest you two had been apart since you started going out, and it was only for a week, which really spoke volumes. Who was to blame you though? You were basically attached at the hip. You had been invited to nearly every video set, and it was very rare that you declined, just because you wanted to be near Nolan.

You did however, decline the offer for this video. It didn’t appeal to you at all and you had no desire to drift at sea for a week, not when you had your own things to tend to here at home. You didn’t even really want Nolan to go, but for whatever reason, he accepted Jimmy’s offer.

Currently it was going on eight pm, and the house fell silent as you laid cuddled up with Nolan in your shared bedroom. A movie played softly on the TV, but you were positive neither of you were paying attention. He was too busy running a hand through your hair gently, or whispering to you about how much he missed you.

“I wish you were there, but I’m also glad you weren’t,” He laughed softly.

You tilted your head up a little to look at him. You moved up slightly to kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad I wasn’t there either,” You responded, poking fun at the fact that you knew it could not have been enjoyable, judging by the fact that Nolan just seemed so drained.

“Why don’t you sleep, you’re tired,” You told him.

He just shook his head, “I just want to lay here with you,” He replied, trying to hide the fact that he yawned almost immediately after.

You gave him a knowing look but decided to not push, knowing that he’d be out like a light soon enough. You were just waiting for it to happen.

He kissed the top of your head before you snuggled back up to his chest. You wished he never left, and you were just so glad to have him back in your space.

His arms which had been wrapped around your body squeezed you lightly. If you hadn't known that he was tired before, you would have figured he was exhausted by now.

You glanced up at him again, watching him fight sleep. You noticed the way his eyes would shut for a few moments before he would open them again, over and over.

"Sleep, Nol..." You whispered, "I'll still be here in the morning," You reassured.

"No, I'm fine, I wanna stay up with you for a bit longer," He insisted, shifting a little as a way to try to keep himself awake.

"From what I heard, you barely slept at all this week, don't keep yourself exhausted," You said, offering a slight laugh at the end of your sentence, trying to prove how ridiculous he was being.

He just shook his head and you rolled your eyes, "Tell me about your week," He said.

"Just hung around, missing you. Wondering why on Earth you wanted to do this video," You teased.

He knew it definitely was not a video for everyone, but he appreciated the challenge and knew it couldn't be so bad as long as his friends had been there with him. He did feel a little iffy about drifting at sea with no way to expect what would happen next, but Jimmy had reassured him at least twenty times that everything would be completely under control.

Well, everything but the weather.

The weather was the worst part, and he's surprised he didn't end up sick from being out in the rain like that, or even the heat.

"I missed you too, a lot," He replied, "I'm glad I get to be home now."

You were glad too. If you could, you'd never let him leave your side, but that was unrealistic, and you refused to be that kind of girlfriend. He reminded you of how he appreciated you nearly every day.

After a few beats of silence, you noticed the way his breathing slowed. You felt his arms loosen around your body, and you smiled to yourself.

You smiled softly at him before reaching down and pulling the blankets over the two of you a little higher. You shifted slightly, getting comfy before shutting your eyes.

Honestly, you hoped he'd never leave for something like that again, but you knew it was inevitable, and as long as was enjoying himself. Though, you didn't quite see the appeal in drifting in open water for a week straight, but to each their own.

"Goodnight, Nolan."

[nowoyas]

koi no yokan 18: get some rest (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: back to your regularly scheduled programming! as mentioned over on ao3, there's a slight chance of a small hiatus AFTER next week. I had to pause and hammer out the next arc more thoroughly, since my outline is mostly limited to the actual onscreen and offscreen proposals. next week's chapter is already banked, though, so there's ALMOST no way I don't manage the planning AND drafting for at least one chapter within two weeks' time. almost.

Summary: It takes a lot of good sleep to recover from a concussion.

Warnings and tags: briefly implied/referenced child abuse, blanket series warnings

Words: ~3000

Noya comes home late.

You might not have noticed; it's not like you're waiting up for him. You'd come home after practice, barely managed to pull out the futon, and immediately gone straight to bed. If he hadn't purposely woken you up, you probably wouldn't have noticed, but he shakes you awake when it's already well past dark out, gentle as he stirs you from a dead sleep.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asks while you're still blinking into the lamplight.

"Mrrrrgh," you tell him.

He laughs, soft and sweet, hand resting on you as you stare at him. "Okaa-san said you didn't come down for dinner. Wanna eat with me?"

"Didya just get home?" you mumble. "Time?"

"Yeah. It's like, nine or something. Got caught up in individual practice until they almost locked me in, so I haven't eaten yet. C'mon, I'm starving."

"You're late." You groan and push yourself to sit up. "I feel like it's s'posed to be my turn to wake you up, but fine."

So you follow him downstairs, let him set a reheated plate of food in front of you and sit across from you with his own. Sleepily set about eating.

"I was surprised to see you back today," Noya comments when you're both settled in. "At practice, I mean."

"Good. I wanted it t'be a surprise." You yawn, stretch a little. "Was everyone… like, do you think everyone liked the lunches?"

"Are you kidding? They were amazing. You did a great job."

A smile flicks to your lips. "I'm glad."

You watch him eat for a bit. He hasn't showered yet; his hair's still down.

"Why the hair change today, by the way?"

"Oh, that?" He laughs, a secret third kind of Noya laugh you haven't heard before. It sounds almost nervous. "Don't worry about it."

So you were right. It's definitely because of this morning. As much as you kind of wanna tease him for it, that has the chance to go down a path you're trying to avoid looking at. Also, requires acknowledging that you were awake and just sort of let it happen, which basically guarantees looking at that path you don't want to acknowledge the existence of.

So instead, you hum thoughtfully. "Took a little getting used to, but it looks nice."

He freezes, the bite of food that had been on its way to his mouth dropping back to the plate as he stares at you, cheeks growing red. "Y-you think so?"

"Yeah. Totally different vibe from your usual, but it does."

"Marry me" tumbles from his lips thoughtlessly, and you smile.

"Nine hundred thirty."

He finishes eating way before you—you blame his snakelike ability to unhinge his jaw and the fact that he's actually fully awake, while you're still recovering from your nap and eat like a normal human being—and watches you finish up, an uncharacteristic quiet settling between you. It's comfortable.

You're really comfortable with him.

"Do you want the rest?" you ask after a moment. "I'm kinda full, but I don't wanna waste it."

"Sure," he says. He takes the plate you push over, and you watch with amused horror as he polishes off the last bit of food in record time.

"You know, if I weren't so worried for your digestive system, I'd say you should go into those eating competitions professionally. There's that one American who does it, like, full time and gets all these sponsorships and stuff."³³

"You worry too much."

"Someone's gotta worry if you won't," you quip back, resting your head on your arms to look up at him. "Lucky for you, yours truly is fantastic at it."

"Yeah," he says. "You're great. You complete me, you know?" He flashes an easy grin. "So you've gotta marry me."

"Nine twenty-nine, and let me help clean up."

He raises an eyebrow. "You did a lot today. Are you sure?"

"I can wash one plate, Senpai. Probably even two plates. If I'm feeling ambitious, I might wash a fork, too."

"Woah, let's not get too crazy, here," he jokes. You bump shoulders with him as you come to stand beside him at the sink. He actually lets you help clean up, a fact that you sigh into.

"I'm glad everyone liked the lunches today," you say as you wash your plate. "Really. I was… kinda worried."

"Why? Your cooking's great."

"Not about the cooking. I mean, a little about the cooking. Just… you know. Insecure, I guess." The admission comes out too quiet, nearly lost in the sound of the sink. "I'm extra, you know? There's really not a need for there to be three managers for the team."

He's silent a minute. When you glance at him, he's staring out of the corner of his eye, realization widening his eyes and pursing his lips. "And you think you're the unneeded one."

A nod. "I guess. I mean, Shimizu-senpai's a third year and everyone loves her and also she actually knows what she's doing."

"…And Yachi-san did those posters," he realizes. "You were so weird after she first showed them to us."

Another nod. "I remember seeing them the first time and thinking… wow, she's amazing. What am I doing here?"

A hand rests on your waist, pulls you loosely into his side. You wrinkle your nose—he smells like sweat. Definitely hasn't showered yet. "And today? There's no way you still think you're extra after that reception."

You huff. "Guess not. I missed everyone. I like it here, but… I guess I sort of like going to practice with you guys and helping out."

"Marry me, then."

You laugh, turn your face into his shoulder to hide your smile. "You are really working them in tonight. Nine twenty-eight."

"What can I say? There's something about coming home to you that makes me wanna keep coming home to you."

Error: [name].exe has stopped responding. Reboot program?

…

Rebooting…

"I. Um." Fuck. Your face feels dangerously hot. "…n-nine twenty-seven."

His shoulders shake with poorly-stifled laughter. "I didn't even ask that time."

"T-that felt like one, okay? Shut up."

"You know, [name]-san, I'm starting to think you might be…"

"Whatever you're thinking of finishing that sentence with, shush."

He breaks into a grin. "Just a little bit of a tsundere, that's all."

"I said shut up!" You shove him away roughly. "Go take a shower or something. You smell gross. I'm not letting you cuddle me like that."

"So if I clean up, I get to—"

"Go!"

He mock-salutes you before darting out of the room. You remain standing at the kitchen sink, desperately trying to get your bearings.

How the fuck is he single? No, seriously, how the fuck? Is it the height thing? Has he just never had the chance to come out of nowhere with shit like that and completely floor some other unsuspecting girl?

Fucking hell. If he just acted around other girls the way he acted around you...

You shake your head. Dry your hands. Slip up the stairs to head to bed. With any luck, you'll be asleep again before he's done in the shower.

You're not optimistic about it, to be honest. Your mind is racing in a weird way—completely blank, but the blankness itself is at a high speed, which is odd to say. It occurs to you, faintly, that you suddenly are aware of what "!?!?!?" sounds like. Then there's footsteps coming down the hall towards your room, and you're forced to slam your eyes shut and turn over so your back is facing the door.

Tonight, he slumps into your futon with a contented sigh and a whispered good night. Tonight, he wriggles under your blanket with you, and tonight, you lay awake, count his breaths as he spoons you.

You're hyperaware that you need to stop this. That you need to pull back, for his sake and yours. Before you hurt him and rip your own heart out in the process. Before he hurts you just by being him—earnest, straightforward Noya. But it's one of those nights, and what you know and want takes a backseat to what you do.

Tonight, when his breathing slows and you're sure he's asleep, you trail a hand up his arm. (Stop it. Just go to sleep.) Tonight, you close a hand over his. (Stop it. Someone's gonna get hurt.) Tonight, you intertwine your fingers with his. (Stop it stop it stop it—)

(You do not stop it.)

(You fall asleep that way.)

(You're just so comfortable in his arms.)

~

Three more days sees three failed attempts at meeting your—admittedly ambitious—goal for the day, three marked increases in your stress level as you call whichever sister is available to come walk you home, three days without a word from your father, three nights where Noya comes home later than the standard, and three nights sleeping cuddled up to your best friend like nothing's weird about it.

You ease into other home chores where you can with the blessing and supervision of Rina or one of the girls. Noya's grandfather isn't around much—you don't know what he gets up to all day, only that once or twice he's come back with a strange woman maybe Rina's age on his arm. When Noya's home, you ask for updates on what you're missing during dinner, and when you're in his futon or he's in yours, you drag the pads of your fingers over his exposed skin and tell yourself that tomorrow, you'll go home.

The guys are improving massively already—apparently, Azumane wasn't the only guy working on something new. You're treated to new flashes of everything they're trying during the meager hours you can tolerate being there, and Noya excitedly tells you more during breaks or when he comes home for the night. When it comes to his own little project—the jump set he's told you about multiple times and which you admittedly keep pretending to forget about, half to tease him and half to watch him talk about it—he's grown less and less enthusiastic over these three days.

He's getting frustrated.

Your suspicions are confirmed on day four of this—today, your goal was "lunch and stay until individual practice", and it's the first day you've successfully met your return goal, with seven to spare before you have to miss the biggest sleep-away camp of the summer. On a break, Sawamura had waited for Noya to disappear for a bathroom break before approaching you. Can you talk to him? he'd asked in a quiet voice. We've been trying to get him to pull back a little, but he only listens until I stop glaring at him.

So, perfect timing. He's overworking himself, and there's no damn way you don't stay until Noya leaves tonight. You'd agreed with a sweet smile, an assurance that either he'd listen to your request to take it easy or you'd make him literally carry you home.

So now, you're helping with his individual practice for the first time since you allegedly agreed to do so over a week ago, in spite of the protests from multiple team members that you should take it easy and not risk getting hurt.

You're throwing a ball. That's it. If Azumane or Tanaka manage to hit you in the head where you're standing, perfectly perpendicular to the direction they're trying to spike in, they should probably just quit volleyball entirely. Even Hinata apparently only had to hit it a little out of bounds at just the right time to take you out the first time.

Like this, you get to see exactly why Sawamura asked you to talk to him, and you grow more and more disapproving as the night drags on. It's like he's Hinata, with the way he's absolutely relentless—whoever he's setting to takes a break, and he immediately tracks down Suga for advice or moves to a setting drill you've seen Kageyama do, bouncing the ball repeatedly against the wall without pause. Something about strengthening his fingers and improving control? You don't know.

What you do know: he literally hasn't sat down since individual practices started.

For the fiftieth time tonight, you check the time, and while you were pushing through the exhaustion and occasionally using them as reasons to try to force a break, it's not working.

So this time, when Noya takes the ball and starts setting it against the wall, you fix a glare on his back. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Tanaka watching you march up to him and shift away a little bit.

You snatch the ball out of the air between the wall and his fingers with a glare. "Senpai."

He blinks. "[name]-san?"

"You have a lot of nerve, you know that?"

"I—what did I do?" he manages, staring at you entirely stunned.

You sigh. You really want to lecture him, but with the way he is, you get the weird sense he's just not noticing what he's doing. "Hardly letting me take a plate to the sink because I need to take care of myself and then doing this shit. Sit down, Senpai. Everyone already knows you're cool, and you're gonna get that set, so there's no sense in going hours without taking a real break."

His cheeks tinge pink as he processes your statement, and he slides to the floor obediently. "You think I'm cool?"

You roll your eyes, take the ball over to the volleyball cart for now. "Not the issue here."

"Marry me?" he calls after you as you make the walk across the gym.

"Nine twenty-one," you grumble in reply.

~

That night, curled up in his futon instead of yours this time, you trace the scar on his shoulder thoughtfully. It's so much easier to worry about him than anything else, so that's what you do.

"Gonna swing by my place and check on things tomorrow," you say. "Maybe grab some clothes so I'm not stealing all your shirts."

"Want me to come with you?" Noya offers. "I'm sure everyone'll understand if I'm late because I'm helping you."

"Nah, I don't wanna take you from practice, and I need to be able to handle this stuff on my own if I'm gonna be cleared for full activity again soon."

He pouts. "How strict are the doctors gonna be with that? It's not like you're playing."

"Dunno. They're probably worried about, you know, five volleyball teams playing at once in the same room possibly leading to me getting my shit wrecked again."

"I'll protect you this time," he grumbles. "It's not gonna happen again."

"I'm sure you will, but the doctors don't know that. I really don't wanna miss the whole thing, though, so I'll probably ask if I can still go under a modified schedule. Like, help out for half the day and hide out in the girls' room the rest of the day or something."

"Aw, you do love us," he teases.

"Who said anything about that? It'll be boring here all alone."

"Sure, sure," he laughs. "You can admit that you like us, you know. I won't tell. You even already said it once."

"Shut up."

"Marry me and I will."

"No, you won't," you snort. "But nice try. Nine hundred twenty." You sigh into him, eyes lingering on the arm in your vision. "How'd you get that scar, anyway?"

"Mm?"

You tap your finger against it. "That one."

"Oh." He sounds… kinda upset that you asked.

"If you wanna talk about it, I mean. I'm just curious."

He shrugs, the position awkward for it, shifting you a little bit where your head rests on his chest. "My dad, probably."

"Your… dad?"

"I don't remember much, and Okaa-san thinks Satsuki and I don't remember anything, so she doesn't talk about it."

Oh. "You mean he…"

"'Sjust a guess. I know that I barely knew him, and that Mei and Kaede both get really upset if Satsuki and I ask about him. Okaa-san wouldn't talk about how Kaede got a concussion, either, so it's probably related to that. And the one time he tried to contact us, Mei had a panic attack and then stopped talking for like, three days. Figure it's probably got something to do with that."

"Noya, I'm so…" You freeze, and then you laugh. "Sorry, I—I'm not laughing at you, I just… I was so emphatic about not wanting you to be sorry when I told you about my family, and now I'm laying here and I don't know what to be if not sorry."

Another light squeeze, crushing you to his body. "Just be here."

"I can do that," you whisper. "That's easy. Can I—is there anything else?"

He hums thoughtfully, taking a moment to nuzzle the top of your head. "Well, there's one thing. Ma—"

"Nine nineteen," you interrupt.

He smiles. Huffs. "Let's get some sleep, alright?"

You nod, shift to get just a touch more comfortable. "G'night, Senpai."

"Marry me," he blurts in reply. "I mean, goodnight."

Your shoulders shake with silent laughter, and you count up one more proposal before you drift to sleep.

Footnotes

33. Joey Chestnut, of 76 hot dogs (with buns) in 10 minutes fame. At the time of this fic taking place, he had just tied his own world record with 68 hot dogs (with buns) in ten minutes, about a month before this chapter. I like to think Reader-chan knows this information solely to tease Noya about his eating habits, but who has the power to make that canon?

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[heretherebedork]

I know almost everyone is stuck on Boston treatment but actually let’s talk about how no one really has a happy ending.

Ray/Sand : Sand didn’t choose Ray. I am not saying he doesn’t love him but he didn’t chose him between him and his ex, it was until Ray and Mew come with receipts that Boeing tried to get between MewTop that Sand ended up staying with Ray. Actually I saw nobody talking about it but Sand wanted the threesome. In my first watching, I thought he separated Boeing and Ray during their kiss because he couldn’t bare to see it but actually he tried to add himself to the kiss but they didn’t notice him and that’s when he ended up butthurt. While I think we can agree that Ray will never accept a threesome, as he was looking away when Boeing and Sand were kissing and is way too possessive, the same can’t be said about Sand. I don’t think it’s too much to say Ray will have gone to deep end if Sand would have chosen Boeing. His wellness and stability seem to rely solely on Sand and that’s not good at all.

Top/Mew : I think we can all agree that the “cheating” is going to be above Top head for the entirety of their relationship. I thought at first that their reconciliation was going to be based to the fact that Mew will acknowledge that they were not really together at the time but it’s still a betrayal because they were getting to know each other and that it was Boston but no. I saw ForceBook saying that Top weakness is Mew and the one he will always be yielding to and I believe it’s basically going to be their whole relationship. Their storyline reminded me about another p’jojo production and it’s Friend zone the series and the relationship between Singto prachaya character and Nat Sakdatorn character and it’s actually the same storyline. They are together and Nat’s character cheated in a one night stand with Singto’s character friend played by Plustor. And actually they are getting back together with Singto’s character blaming everything on Plustor’s character. There is a second two and Singto’s character end up sleeping with Plustor’s character too and in the end it’s a sad ending for the couple. And the last scene where Mew is smiling to Mix character who look like he is interested in Mew and Top look jealous is not a good sign and actually makes me believe Mew will be capable of cheating on Top.

It will need another ask for that but it’s actually wild that in every forcebook series, Book character is self-centered and childish and Force’s character is the one loving him more and sacrificing for him. It literally happened in all their dramas.

I mean, there is weight to that. But there's also weight to the fact that their endings can be intended happy and to seem like they were all fairly happy couples together at the end.

Ray and Sand... yeah, they really dropped the ball with the idea of Sand choosing Ray by never having him make a choice and just having the choice dictated to him by Ray and Mew instead. I was hoping to hear Sand claim Ray as his boyfriend during the show and it really just kind of didn't happen. He called him his own and others said caretaker but he never made the active choice.

Now, I disagree on the reading of the kiss in the pool. I think Sand genuinely hated seeing Boeing and Ray kiss and wanted them to stop. But, hey, I've been wrong before so I'll never say my view is the only view.

I really wish that the scene where Sand came to Ray to help out with the kids had included both Ray apologizing to Sand and Sand calling himself Ray's boyfriend before the thing about Boeing, Mew and Top was revealed. That would have been my ideal for them to have the best ending.

Top and Mew: Yeah, they're never gonna break up because they would have to admit they were wrong to try a second time and neither of them can handle that so this relationship is going to last forever no matter how tortured Top is or how smug Mew is because that would be facing a mistake.

I'm not going to comment on the actors overall roles but I am going to admit a lot of frustration that Top was set up as this traumatized, spoiled counterpart to Ray who was a functional addict and able to run a business while Ray was falling apart on every level and it turned into nothing and everything just kind of fell into Top having nothing but his love of Mew and then getting over his trauma because of magic love. Sigh.

No one gets a perfectly happy ending but everyone get a better one than Boston alone in a street friendless and leaving behind the only world he's ever known without even a single person to see him off.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

The Choosing Ball (5/?)

A new day dawns, Janus misses breakfast and gets to talk to Roman.

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Warnings: None

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Whooo it's been a hot second, I'm sorry about that, I completely forgot this fic existed - I got very side-tracked by the Hells Belles AU (if you know of hells belles go check out my crossover fic btw-)

This is the last pre-written chapter I had, so I gotta actually get on with writing the next one, haha.

I hope you enjoy!

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Janus woke up the next morning in a way that was not at all pleasant. 

He knew he had woken up later than intended by the way the sun was shining across his face. He normally woke up before dawn so that he could lay around for a while, aware but comfortable.

Not to mention Remus was standing over his bed with a grin on his face that scared Janus ever so slightly.

“Good morning?” Janus basically asked, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. He brought the covers up around his face in an attempt to shield his scales from the cold air and peering eyes a little, but he knew it was useless by this point. Remus practically jumped, his grin somehow widening.

“G’mornin!” Remus replied cheerfully, leaning even closer, “You missed breakfast.”

“I what.” Janus asked without any kind of eloquence, sitting up and rubbing at his face, He’d- how had he slept through breakfast? Surely he would’ve heard the others wake up? But- then again it was usually Virgil who woke him up at the crack of dawn.

“Mhm,” Remus nodded sagely, “I brought you some of the pancakes though ‘cuz I thought you’d be hungry.”

Remus produced a plate of pancakes from… somewhere. They were covered with maple syrup and the plate was decorated with little pieces of fruit. Janus was a little upset that he’d missed the promised breakfast buffet and with it his chance to easily find Roman, and besides Pancakes weren’t exactly what he would have chosen for himself, but they were sweet and better than nothing. He took them.

“What’s got you being so nice to me?” Janus asked, narrowing his eyes at Remus, who stuffed his hands in the pockets of the loose, informal trousers he was wearing today. The ball wouldn’t be until the evening and it really was uncomfortable to wear the fanciest clothes they owned all day, Janus wouldn’t blame him.

“Oh, just the fact that you’re probably gonna end up being my brother in law so I thought maybe it’d be best if you didn’t completely hate my guts? Like, I only need you to hate some of my guts.”

Janus stared at him in disbelief as he shrugged and walked away. How the hell had Remus known about his feelings for Roman?

“Roman’ll be in the gardens by the way,” Remus said, looking over at him as he sifted through one of his drawers, “He said he wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Janus said, rolling his eyes and pulling himself out of bed. He dressed simply in a dark blue tunic and a black capelet paired with a black hat (Janus knew the rules, but he also refused to wear that stupid veil again) that flopped over his face instead of said veil from the day before. He tried to be fast, he’d lost time by sleeping in and he really needed to leave time to go and meet Virgil too - he’d said he’d meet him after breakfast. He ate the pancakes Remus had given him as he walked to the gardens. 

Remus’ intel was correct in that Roman was indeed in the garden. Janus watched him admire the admittedly lovely flowers growing around the paths and couldn’t help when he found himself smiling as Roman stood and continued to walk along the path.

He must have been noticed, where he was lurking in the shadows, because Roman turned to him and brightened, almost blinding him with his smile. Immediately his fellow prince was rushing over through the gardens, so quickly that Janus barely realised what was happening before Roman was right in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Janus!” Roman said, “Where were you? I tried to find you at breakfast, but-”

“I slept in,” Janus mumbled, looking away, suddenly slightly embarrassed, “I am used to being woken up in the mornings.”

“Ah, I see, did you get something to eat, at least?” Roman asked, now looking a little concerned.

“You are as bad as Virgil,” Janus couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yes, your brother brought me pancakes, apparently he only wants me to hate some of his guts?”

Roman snorted, “I am simply looking out for your wellbeing, and I’m glad my brother doesn’t want you to hate him, he has a way with pushing people.”

“I can tell,” Janus rolled his eyes, “Speaking of Virgil, I promised to meet him after breakfast but obviously- I slept in and wanted to speak with you as well, so… walk with me?”

Janus offered his arm a little tentatively, Roman took it with far more enthusiasm, almost making Janus stumble at the shock of the feeling. He still wasn’t used to being… touched… by other people. Even if he’d initiated it in the first place. It was strange when it wasn't Virgil. 

“Oh I would love to meet your dark clad companion once again! Feel free to lead the way,” Roman grinned as they began walking through the garden, “I actually wanted to talk to you as well, so… I suppose this worked out perfectly!”

“I suppose it did,” Janus murmured, “You may go first, if you wish.”

“No, no you should go first,” Roman shook his head, “Mine isn’t very important.”

“Well- alright then,” Janus sighed, trying to think of how on earth to start this off, eventually he decided on talking about Virgil, something he was good at, “You know myself and Virgil have an unorthodox relationship, don’t you?”

“I assumed,” Roman said, “By how intimate you were behaving yesterday, how long have you managed to keep it a secret?”

“He became my guard seven years ago, when I was sixteen and he was fifteen,” Janus said, Roman watched him speak like every word that came from his mouth was coated in gold, “We became friends incredibly quickly, but we waited until we were both eighteen to… you know, I am now twenty-three.”

“I see, so you’ve been an item for… four years?” Roman asked, tilting his head.

“Correct,” Janus nodded, “I hope you understand that- that you can’t tell anyone about it.”

“I understand,” Roman nodded with a smile, patting Janus’ arm, “Never fear, your secret is safe with me, though you were pretty shoddy at hiding it.”

“Thank you, and it’s not like we expected you to appear in the library,” Janus said, smiling once again as he turned to glance at Roman, who only brightened when their eyes met.

“Oh! You aren’t hiding your face so much today!” Roman said, seeming far too excited about the circumstance, Janus felt the cheek that wasn’t coated with scales heat up as Roman reached forward and tipped his hat up, “Now I can see how lovely you look properly!”

“O-oh I-” Janus stammered, face heating up even more, he turned away - look, he knew he was terrible at taking compliments. He would like to crawl into a hole and die now, please and thank you.

“Ah, my apologies,” Roman said, taking his hand from Janus’ arm and stepping away to walk next to him at a comfortable distance, Janus couldn’t help but frown at the loss, “I probably shouldn’t be flirting with you- if you and Virgil…”

“You - you’re flirting with me-?” Janus shook his head, of course Roman was flirting with him, it was silly of him to think anything otherwise, “That is not the issue here.”

“It isn’t?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.

“No,” Janus sighed, unable to contain a small smile, “I am simply… obscenely bad at taking compliments, Virgil makes a point to remind me at every opportunity.”

“Oh my goodness!” Roman gasped, “That’s simply adorable! You deserve to be flattered more, and- does that mean that you’re alright with flirting?”

“I have little problem with the flirting,” Janus said, offering Roman a small smile, “Anyway… how- uh- how are you feeling about the ball?" 

"No-one's asked me yet," Roman said with a frown, "Well- no-one I'd be willing to go with, anyway." 

"So you have been asked?* Janus asked, tilting his head. He tried to hide how that statement felt as though it was pressing on his heart.

"By a few noble girls from my own kingdom," Roman said with a wistful sigh, "But not only am I gay I also know their type, I have met both of the girls who asked me before and neither of them are pleasant." 

"But you'll be an outcast if you don't choose someone," Janus said, frowning, his entire brain was screaming at him to just ask, but he couldn't seem to get those words out, "Are you still hoping for love?" 

"I'm… not sure, really," Roman sighed, "My brother already asked Prince Patton - who said yes - and I've heard that others are already pairing off- a lot of people were asking at breakfast this morning- I just… don't want to end up with someone I don't like- or don't even know." 

"I suppose that's fair." Janus said, falling silent for a moment as they walked. 

"What about you?" Roman asked, "Have you been asked yet?"

"Not yet," Janus said, shrugging, "I doubt many would want to ask the Serpent Prince who didn't even come to breakfast." 

Roman smiled, nudging his arm, "I don't think you're so bad." 

"I don't think you're totally detestable either," Janus said, before taking a deep breath, "I was… actually thinking about asking someone." 

Janus could pinpoint the exact moment Roman started thinking that it must not be him, when his smile crumpled and he looked away from Janus in an attempt to hide his frown, it didn't work. 

"Roman-" Janus started, realising immediately that he'd made the mistake of being too vague, he cursed himself internally- he knew being vague about this kind of thing was a straight road to being misunderstood. He was an idiot.

"Don’t worry, Janus, I expect that whoever you ask will consider themself very lucky," Roman said, before turning around to walk away, Janus panicked, rushing forward to grab Roman's hands before he could get too far. Roman stared at him, eyes wide and Janus could see them quickly filling with tears.

"Janus-" Roman started, before Janus cut him off.

"Roman it’s you, you- I- wanted to ask you- this is really what I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn’t know how to bring it up, I was… nervous," Janus admitted, squeezing Roman's hands, "I shouldn't have been vague, and I'm sorry I caused you distress, you're well in your right to ref-" 

"Stop talking," Roman said, a hesitant smile creeping back onto his face. Janus stared at him in surprise, "Stop, really? you're asking me?" 

"Yes," Janus nodded sharply so that it couldn't be mistaken for any other gesture, "Roman, will you go to the ball with me?" 

Roman squeezed his hands, staying still for a moment before laughing and pulling Janus into a tight hug. He tensed in surprise as Roman wrapped his arms around Janus’ shoulders before he realised what was going on. Taking a deep breath to relax his tensed up muscles Janus put his arms loosely around Roman in return, patting his back lightly. 

“Yes, of course I’ll go with you,” Roman murmured into his shoulder, “You really had me going there for a second.”

“My apologies,” Janus replied, patting his shoulder again, “I hope you can understand my struggle with… this.”

“Of course,” Roman said, letting him go and pulling back whilst keeping his hands firmly on Janus’ shoulders, “Oh this is wonderful, simply wonderful! Wait- does- does Virgil know-? I would feel bad if-”

“He knows,” Janus nodded with a small smile, it was a good sign, he thought, that Roman was looking out for Virgil too, maybe they really could make this work, “We talked about this last night he- may have been the one to push me into asking you.”

“Oh really? Well that’s perfect then!” Roman said, before pausing, “Oh look! We’re here, which means I can hear exactly what Virgil thinks about me!”

“Good luck getting that out of him,” Janus snorted, turning to ask the castle guard at the post to fetch Virgil for him. 

“Well isn’t it just such a surprising coincidence that I have you here to do it for me!” 

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Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

and @howam-i-theparent for requesting that I continue this fic and making me remember that I still had a prewritten chapter to post, haha.

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[manslaught]

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep? / ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink? / ⚙️ GEAR - what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

she usually doesn't have any trouble falling asleep, mostly because she drives herself to the point of complete exhaustion, so by the time she's in bed, her body has no choice than to succumb to sleep. this is what helps her sleep, i guess, so overworking herself is her usual solution - she'll take passing out the moment her head hits a pillow over having to lay in bed and overthink everything about herself, the way she would as a kid.

she's a fairly deep sleeper, mostly because she had to be, since her dad would blast music / watch television way too loud at nights, not caring about whether she was able to sleep through it or not. for years, she couldn't, until finally her body grew accustomed to sleeping through the noise - a fact that pisses her off, because it could easily get her killed if she's not able to quickly wake up if under attack, but she doesn't know how to unlearn it.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

she prefers cold drinks only. she'll drink something hot if she's literally fucking freezing, but she's convinced that hot drinks taste bad, so she'll drink iced everything, even in the middle of winter. i don't think she's particularly picky about what she drinks, surprisingly, just as long as it's cold - coffee, tea, lemonade, whatever, she'll drink it, as long as it's there. her favorite drink is probably some kind of boba (taro if i'm going to continue projecting onto her), for the simple fact that her dad likely hated it. since she's basic enough to go to starbucks daily, she'd probably get an iced chai or something.

⚙️ GEAR - what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

unfortunately she hardly cares about anything... but because she blames the gods for everything, and uses them to explain what happens in the world, she couldn't care less about science - in school, it both bored her, and she found it hard to follow. she passed her classes, but just barely. she's hardly artistic, but she'd still prefer art, because at least it's entertaining. she doesn't have the appreciation for it that apollo kids might have, but she's shallow enough to only care about things that catch her attention, which some art does. she prefers music, because she doesn't have the attention span for movies, and she's not perceptive enough to care about anything in art museums unless it's pretty.

[blauser-clarav]

Some thoughts on crushes

More strange ramblings to be posted here instead of bothering my friend with random epiphanies in the middle of the night.

Crushes are, as the word might suggest, crushing. The following paragraphs will most likely out me as someone on the spectrum again, but then again, I do not see the harm in wording out some thoughts and posting them somewhere where most likely no one will see it anyway. I'll leave it for the PHDs to diagnose me, for now, I'm just figuring out some things for myself.

I have never had a serious relationship in my life. I'm not sure why that is, most likely a very unfortunate combination of being transgender, presenting very androgynous, and possibly having undiagnosed autism. Another factor to be considered is also the years of my life before I came out, or even found out I was trans, as in those years I was pretty much insufferable and I don't blame anyone for not wanting to date me.

Closest thing I've had to a relationship is this one girl whom I briefly had a thing with in 2022, I suppose you'd call our arrangement a situationship, in modern terms. We kissed, went on a date, we were intimate, it was fun. She vehemently claimed at the time that she carried no desire at all to have a serious relationship ever in her life, a real gut punch when we briefly stopped contact and she re-entered my life months later with her cis girlfriend. Ouch.

Nevertheless, I cherish that time with her. Sex is fun but I think what I found most enjoyable was just the basic physical intimacy, the cuddling and falling asleep, sharing clothing, and getting to know her. It was, until this day, the best sleep I've ever had. I dearly miss that aspect of it. I very much miss her also.

At one point in our shared time she told me something I'll hopefully never forget:

"You have so much love to give."

Suppose it's a rather odd thing to say to the person you're not willing to date, nevertheless it stuck with me. I think in hindsight most of my romantic adventures (as I like to call them) have been very much a torturous struggle, dealing with what I can only describe as my romantic insanity. I don't simply have crushes like normal people, though I do know that sensation of finding someone objectively attractive and appealing, I don't really put it into that same category of strong feelings. I tackle it matter-of-factly, as in "this person is attractive in my book, but due to a lack of a spark I will not pursue anything."

And then there's real crushes. I don't mean to be self-deprecating here, I mean it more so very plainly when I say, once I have started to fancy a person, I go absolutely insane. I turn into an unrealistic caricature of what a person in love acts like, as if copied from the pages of a 19th century German romance novel.

And while, I have made some progress on how to act on such occasions - I still don't really know what to do about it.

It's a darn nightmare, having your thoughts be stuck with a person all the time, overthinking all of your choices and every single word you've spoken to them. Makes you barely functional. And so I've been left with two options every time:

1) Admit feelings, which mostly doesn't change the fancying part at all, it only makes me miserable because it's always polite rejection (mostly coming off as pretty patronizing, if I'm being honest.)

2) Aggressively attempt to overcome the crush somehow. This, shockingly, also doesn't work, as it always leads to guilt-ridden nights, many tears, and constant rebounds.

So what is one, such as myself, to do when experiencing a crush?

Presenting itself as the whole entire reason as to why I'm writing this post, I believe I have found the answer:

Don't fight it.

Duh, says the audience, which was apparently gifted this knowledge somewhere in life already. Congrats, if that is the case. I for myself have had to figure this out via hard-earned experiences, the simple fact that letting these feelings reign freely being the best possible way of dealing with it.

But won't that make it difficult?

What if you want to ask them out, or want a relationship with them?

Well, to that I say - who cares?

Is that all love is? Just a goal to work towards? Something to gain, to prove, to earn the right to? Am I only allowed to love someone when I get a reward? Call myself a winner?

To that extent I think of my recent crush that lasted mostly throughout summer and autumn.

God, was this person fun to be around. Always made you feel at ease when you talked to her. Shared some very personal stuff with me back then, beside the fact that many of the epiphanies I had last year came to me thanks to her.

She and I never dated, never kissed, never did anything considered relationship-y. We don't even speak to each other anymore, not because of a falling out, it just happened that way. And yet I still cherish her to the fullest. She was truly a shining beacon of positive energy in my life, an excuse to be as kitschy and cutesy and stupid as I possibly could've been. I'll never forget the tears I had when I said goodbye to her that night.

I think that's what love is. A part of me thinks I wasted my time, never got anything out of it - heck, she never even admitted to liking me back. I keep forgetting in those moments that it genuinely does not matter how she feels about me.

I liked her. I felt happy in her presence, happy when I talked about her, anxious when we didn't talk, relieved when she sought my attention.

I'm unsure whether or not I'll ever experience "true love", or if I'll ever be in a serious relationship.

But I've come to accept now that I love having crushes. I love obsessing over someone for no particular reason other than them existing positively in my vicinity. What a goddamn gift from the universe it is that I can fall in love over nothing, cherish someone for the simplest, most inconsequential reasons. A smile, an expression, a shared inside joke.

What a gift it is to be alive and for loving to come to me as easily as breathing.

And yes, all things pass, people lose each other, live different lives. So far I have not "gotten" anything out of it.

But, as someone very important once said: I have so much love to give. I will sure as hell continue to give it to those that deserve it, for it will not ever run out. Love isn't finite.

It doesn't matter that you lost them. What matters is that you loved them.

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Wednesday, December 27th, 2023

Why have the past few days been so hard I don't even understand. It's like I know all of the tools to help myself and heal, but like sleeping for example. I know I need to get enough sleep but I keep waking up extremely upset and it's ruining my mornings. I know I need to eat better but I barely have an appetite. I'm on my period and I absolutely fucking hate it. I think I may have some period-related distress disorder or something because this just can't be normal. I wish there was something I could take like an aspirin but instead of pain it would alleviate ridiculous mood swings. My period makes me feel so out of control of my body and so uncomfortable. I'm glad I have found a way to skip it for the most part, but then when I do have one it's 20x worse!!?? So either have it a quarter of the year being a nuisance or 4x a year but terrible?? Idk fml. I feel like a fucking teenager again which is 100% not my fucking speed. I am grown I want to act grown in so tired of bs people and bs situations and bs "how things should go" when it comes to social situations. I don't know how to fucking date anymore and I feel like so FUCKED UP from this past relationship. I'm so used to wringing myself dry, squeezing every drop of myself into someone just to get completely fucked over and forgotten about. I can't do that shit again. But if it's not 100%, what the fuck is it?? 10% 20% 50%? I can't imagine giving 50% of myself to someone I don't fucking know. Maybe like 5% haha. That's expendable, but is that enough to garner anything serious?? Or just a bunch of bs????? Help me please anyone 🙃

7:41am seriously coming to terms with how fucked up my last relationship was. And coming to terms with the fact that it has fucked me uP. I do need therapy tbh that would be an investment for me this year. Idc if it's through the school or not their wait-list is so stupid and long.

I want to be around more women this year, men are just making me lose my fucking mind.

7:21pm just got off of another last minute shift! I called him earlier until he finally picked up bc I can't understand his weird ass games. And weird ass games is 100% correct. He said he "silently cried" in public at his gfs parents house last night bc they kept playing songs that remind him of me.... Bro wtf... I literally don't know what to say to that shit. Then I confronted him about why he took me off everything so abruptly and he basically said that everyone else told him to. He just does whatever everyone else tells him to do, he's such a loser. Then he said that anytime his phone goes off, calls or texts, he gets anxious bc he thinks it's me calling him?? Apparently I make him so anxious now... bc he was the dumb one to get such a paranoid gf a week after we broke up, apparently I'm still the cause of numerous fights between them... Literally tho this is 100% NOT MY FAULT. YOU CANNOT BLAME ME FOR YOUR SHITTY BEHAVIOR. YOU CERTAINLY CANNOT BLAME ME FOR WANTING YOU AFTER YOU TELLING ME REPEATEDLY THAT YOU WANTED ME AND THAT YOU REGRETTED EVERYTHING. HE'S LITERALLY A FUCKING CRAZY NARCISSIST PUSSY BITCH.

I'm fully convinced that he's a narcissist now bc goddamn ALWAYS HE IS THE VICTIM!!!!! This shit is unbelievable!!!!! I don't ever see us getting back together bc like I said previously, the respect is GONE. On top of being an asshole, he literally has no fucking balls and just takes his fragile ego out on anyone he thinks he can treat like shit/ less than him. Goddamn I feel bad for that girl but on the other hand, she gets what she deserves !!! She can have your crazy ass I'm so glad I don't have to deal with this shit anymore!!!! It's like he's reverting backwards too, really acting like a brat ass teenager again, love triangles and generally NOT BEING A MAN AT ALL. Literally he acts like a child with no emotional regulation and it's sad af honestly. It's really just sad. That's why I cry. Not because I miss him, but bc I feel bad that he really is such a fuckup and I thought I could help him. I cry for my own grieving, overly kind heart that I gave to someone so fucking helpless. Beyond help at this point bc there's so many fucking people ENABLING HIS BEHAVIOR. I am literally outnumbered by stupid fucking idiots who think this shit is acceptable. I simply cannot. Good luck bro.

[unblemisheddesertflower]

She nodded understandingly, head again resting on her fist. She didn't blame him; in the weeks following the resurgence of the Calamity, she'd had massive difficulty sleeping. A Gerudo her age should be getting at least six hours of sleep a day - she was barely averaging one without medicine, which wasn't enough for even the most battle-hardened general in the barracks. At the time, the tradeoff was worth it, but she was loathe to remember the dreams that haunted her.

Most Gerudo of this age specifically did not study magic - the commonly held belief was that it was at best cheating and at worst a means to underskirt the common good. That their ruling dynasty of at least 500 years was in power due in large part to magical inclination was not lost on them, but many of Riju's line never used their power for more than redirecting the occasional storm. The first time historians recorded her ancestor's powers was the first of her line, but nobody could theorize with any certainty whether she had learned this power, whether it was in fact gifted to her by Farore - the theory their family stood by for publicity - or whether her foremothers had also carried this ability, but kept it quiet. 

Regardless, when the line of teaching was allowed to progress naturally, mother warned daughter of the dangers of using their power too often. Unfortunately, that was not guidance one could always adhere to.

She nodded, gazing up at the scar unflinchingly. It was similar to the malice burns her women sustained when fighting in Hyrule - there was precious little in the desert, which often made her wonder if it somehow couldn't survive in their homeland. The corrupted Sheikah technology also struggled to pass the barrier. She'd only seen one guardian get further than the cliffs, where it promptly drowned itself in sand trying to get out of a pit. 

"It's something I'm willing to sacrifice to keep everyone safe..." There was a brave tone in her voice that never-the-less betrayed her young age. She was still only sixteen - if she were anybody other than the chieftain, she would have completed two years of basic training, and have two more to go. 

"But by the Seven it aches."

She'd only admitted that to Buliara, and hadn't spoken of it in some time. She had to be strong for the people; no fear, no aches. Nothing but vitality and optimism from Riju. 

She knew she shouldn't trust him - this could still all be a trap - but he had been so vulnerable with her, it felt only right to return it. Not only that, it was a relief unto itself.

"Even then, I can't imagine what you feel."

"Draughts and elixirs will only give my body rest, not my mind, unfortunately." He had tried such things before, when he was still on the road from the castle to the desert. It was about as bearable as one would think to have a rested body and a mind full of chaos.

Keeping his gaze on the desert storm in the distance, Ganon curled his body into himself. He could feel the thunder clash rattling his bones, even from this distance - it felt distinctly wrong to him, as if it warned him that it would strike him down. He'd never had the affinity for lightning magic, but he'd felt its raw power before, a hundred years ago when one of the Blights had fought Urbosa.

As Riju moved and showed him how lightning affected her, Ganon found himself curious. Magic, as he knew, was different for him than it was for others. His mothers had always told him it was because of an innate gift he was born with, where they had learned their magic through scrolls and study. Riju's power to wield lightning was the closest he'd seen to his own.

"It is much like a double-edged sword, is it not?" Ganon observed. "Magic comes with a price and it carves its price into your skin. My mothers bore burn scars and frost bite - giving up pieces of themselves for the power they wielded."

Ganon turned his head, reaching up to pull his hair back from his face, revealing the malice scar he otherwise kept covered. "My magic burns from the inside out - ever since I rejected the Calamity. Where I bear these scars, I will always burn."

[ykiwrite]

priorities

description: you end up tangled in the accident. how will jenna take this?

words: 1.2k

*requested by anon

Two things kept manifesting in Jenna's mind throughout this shooting.

You.

Sleep.

You?

Some more sleep. Here you are once again.

She never lied about her love for acting but it was just one of those days. Lines were particularly hard to remember, retakes were in dozens and the crew kept picking on her mistakes.

On top of that, there were few hours left of work that dragged on tortuously slow. But she wanted this role and she got it. Another horror plot but without any mentions of Wednesday thankfully. Fresh start was needed.

"Good job guys. Let's take a break. One more and we're closing it off," let the director be known with a clap of his hands.

Jenna let out a weary sigh. Her face relaxed and the scripted character left her mind in an instant.

Slap on her shoulder broke her out of the trance that kept her unconsciously stuck on the spot. Turning her head hastily and realizing who it was, she silently wished someone else was casted instead.

"You good? Wanna maybe take a break with me and the guys over there?" asked the guy she didn't really try to catch the name of these past days.

"Yeah, uh, i'll just go outside for a breather alone if you don't mind." Sprinkled with the best false smile she could've mustered up right there.

"That's fine but let's say coffee's on me?" said the guy with a spark of hope that was quickly smothered by her phone ringing.

Not really leaving any room for his answer her hands were quicker and steps advancing with a mind of their own. She didn't really care who was calling as long as it bailed her out of this situation. Without sparing a glance she swiped to answer.

"Hello?"

"Jenna?" echoed on the other side.

The feeling of hearing your voice combined with the fresh outside air gave her five more years of life down the line.

"Thank god it's you. Called just in time," she told you with relief. Knowing the problems will melt away by themselves because you said so.

"Really? No problem but uhh- I'm kinda..." you stopped your sentence with a shaky exhale. And the fact only traffic noise could be heard further annoyed her wait.

"You're kinda what?"

Another exhale, "I just might be in a hospital bed right now. It's nothing serious though. That's why i called."

For some unknown reason, your wording made it sound like it's an everyday thing she should not worry about. If it were not the panic would most likely be over the roof. Now, it's a bit below that stage.

"You're where? What, why? Are you okay?" she uttered quickly.

With a poor attempt to calm her down, you said "No don't worry, i'm great. If i were not, i would not call you, right?"

There was a scared smile behind your phone and the absence of words on the other side made it worse. No one can blame you for not wanting to burden her.

"Are you kidding me? You're even making jokes right now? Where are you?"

And just like that she didn't let another second slip by before she was staring at the room's hospital number.

279

Ironic, she thought.

She genuinely tried to be nice to everyone that spotted her on the way to you but she simply could not waste any more time. She pushed the door open not knowing what to expect upon seeing you. How bad is it? Did you barely get out alive? Can you walk? Breathe? Stress was taking her apart piece by piece.

What made the weight fall off her heart for the slightest bit was seeing you act like it was Sunday evening and you just occupied your shared living room with no care in the world. Seeing the TV mounted high up in the corner with some movie playing.

Only your hand in a cast and hospital's repellent uniform with happy motives all over it brought her back to earth and the worry struck again.

She didn't leave you a chance to take her in before she basically teleported to your side, continuously repeating the question of what went down.

"Car accident. Not my fault though, i have license for a reason," you tried to blend in a joke but Jenna was not having it. At all. Instead, she pulled the offered chair closer and sat next to you. Your free hand never unlinking with hers. This was the last straw of her day. You generally don't have the need to be thankful someone survived an accident if you're lucky.

But Jenna did. For the first time and her mind is currently not present.

"Jenna?" you shook her gently but strong enough to break out of the stare she holds somewhere in the distance.

She moved her soulless gaze to look at you which made you discover her eyes were red from the tears. The ones she never acted out by the script. Especially in an empty room with you next to her.

You understand. You do. Her reaction does not differ far away from what yours would be if the position switch. Reasonably she was worried. Terrified and head filled with various outcomes of this.

Still, you pushed the rosy persona to speak instead of your true one, "No, no, no. Jenna, love, don't do this. I'm fine i promise you."

Well, that persona did not hold up for much longer before it shattered and you were back to true self. One that matched hers. With your shaky speech of an attempted comfort that reached the point where you had no idea what you were even saying. Tears escaped as you realized "Yeah, this could have been a very bad ending. But it's not. Maybe it is? Maybe this is heaven and Jenna is here for a last visit."

With such wariness that was needless because it was Jenna, you slowly extended your hand that reached her tear stained cheek. You wiped them away leaving a trail of actors' makeup behind. There was no tension or excessive silence. Only monitors beeping that neither of you acknowledged at this moment. Room was dimly lit which only added to both of your appearances. Causing you to capture each other in the sheerest emotions that are not easily shared.

The other hand removed yours just to create a clear pathway for falling into your chest. Jenna was longing for this but not here. On an outdated chair but oddly comfortable bed with an awkward position.

"Come up here," you said as you freed the space for her to join you. "Let's watch TV or something."

"No, we don't have to. I mean unless you want to." Her intentions were bright as a day through the way she burrowed impossibly closer to you. Locking you in her grasp.

You stared at the clock on the wall in silence. Not sure if Jenna's up for talking it out or not yet. "Also, i'm sorry for crashing our car and taking you off the set. I know how much you wanted that movie-"

The words made her look up in disbelief, "Can you not apologize for that? It's not even your fault to begin with. Did they drug you with something that heavy?"

You weakly laughed at her, "Yeah, your love they said. A lifetime dose."

Jenna let out the biggest sigh of embarrassment upon hearing it. But not without a smile following right after. "You're sooo...whatever."

It just further approved to her you're back to being you.

notes: society if i could write one single story that doesn't have unnecessary "i love you so much" moment like this one at the ending

hope u enjoyed and thanks for the request🖤 and i am SO SORRY for being so slow with this i was just ultra busy behind the screen

[teecupangel]

au idea:

So what happens is: we take Daniel, as he is dying, and send him back in time, when he's about 24 years old, before being found by the Assassins.

He wakes up from this terrible nightmare he barely even remembers, but the few things he can recall fill him with a sense of dread, especially the face of his murderer, which he starts seeing everywhere.

Skip forwards to the events of "The Fall", and as he's living through Nikolai's memories of the Tunguska event, his great-grandfather's visions of the future unlock his own memories as well.

He has a full-blown panic attack as he remembers his own death in vivid detail and, as Hannah and Bellamy try to hold him still, he decides that he can't, just can't, go through this again.

He has to kill Desmond long before the bastard gets the chance to kill him.

So he tries to do everything as he had done before, even though his memories of the time spent with the Assassins are vague at best, all the while looking for Desmond.

Finally, he gets his chance when he meets William Miles at the Farm.

Sneaking into his house at night is easy, and so is gutting both him and his wife.

As for Desmond... how hard could it be, to kill an eleven years old child?

An hour has passed and he's still there, holding a bloodied knife in his hand, asking himself that same damned question as he looms over this sleeping child who is one day going to become his murderer, and... he can't.

He can't.

Change of plans: he's taking the kid to Abstergo with him, so that he can keep him under surveillance and make sure he doesn't wind up joining the Assassins.

And since he's already stealing children, he figured he might as well take one he gets along with, and not only does he know which hideout Lucy lives in, it also happens to be very conveniently on his way to Philadelphia.

He doen't need to kill the Mentor this time around, as he still remembers his address from his first time killing him, and the same goes for all the other Assassin hideouts.

Basically what I'm trying to get at is this:

Oh, and Desmond? He also had a nightmare, the same day as Daniel in fact, and has this vague feeling of impending doom, and also this name, "Clay"... he doesn't know who that is, only that he is somehow to blame for this whole situation.

Daniel will definitely not want to return to the Animus even if Dr Sung told him it would help with the… twitching. Daniel can’t really explain that the twitching is because he can still see him… he can still see Nikolai and he’s not saying anything, that’s the most annoying thing in this entire bullshit called ‘second chance’. The moment he decided not to kill Desmond and took him with him, Nikolai had been a silent ghost, always following Daniel around.

That damn hood made it hard to see his expression but it’s annoying Daniel and…

Returning to the Animus might just aggravate this entire thing.

Vidic has taken a shine on little Lucy and Desmond. They were born and raised by the Assassins but Vidic’s kind grandfatherly act was working wonders. The two brats were also getting along quite well, all things considered. They were already whispering to each other and saying “nothing” whenever someone asked what they were talking about.

Daniel knew they were going to be giving him a lot of headaches in the future.

Then he learned that Vidic had checked their DNA and froze when he heard the triumph in Vidic’s tone as he said, “Desmond is a descendant of not just Ezio Auditore but Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. Daniel, my boy! You saved such a wonderful boy!”

And Daniel knew…

He just knew…

If Desmond gets into an Animus… if he relived even just one memory of any of his ancestors…

The man who killed him will wake up.

Fuck!

.

.

.

Wanna make this more complicated?

Clay has a nightmare on the same day and, unlike Daniel who needed a ‘spark’ to open that can of worms, or Desmond who still needs his own trigger, Clay remembers everything vividly.

So Clay tries to get into contact with the Assassins, even going as far as calling the number Bill made him remember before he went undercover and the one who answers wants to know why he would know William Miles’ personal phone number.

Clay just tells the Assassin to get Bill on the phone, it’s important.

He can't say the truth though because he knows he fucked up.

He had only been trying to take both his and Desmond’s consciousness (the ghosts remaining in the Gray) back into the past but he knows someone hitched a ride. He doesn’t know who but he sure as hell knows it was another Animus Subject.

Then the Assassin tells him Bill is dead, killed in his own home.

And Clay goes, “And Desmond? Is Desmond okay?”

“… The boy’s missing. Now, may I know who this is?”

“Fuck.” Clay hissed because his greatest fear has just come true.

There were only two Animus Subjects that he didn’t want to be the hitchhiker.

Warren Vidic (Subject 2) and Daniel Cross (Subject 4).

If Bill is dead and Desmond is missing, most probably captured, then it only meant that it was one of the two.

“Come get me. We need to talk.” Clay said before giving the Assassin his current location.

A few hours later, a different Assassin came and got him and drove him to a place he didn’t recognize in Massachusetts.

There, he recognized the voice of the one who picked up the phone.

And recognized him as the current mentor of the entire Brotherhood. The one that Daniel Cross was meant to assassinate.

Learning that only Bill and his wife had been killed, by a bladed weapon of all things…

Clay knew…

It was Daniel Cross.

Warren Vidic would have gotten Abstergo’s spec ops team to burn the entire Farm to the ground.

That only meant…

“You need to tell every Assassin to run…” Clay said solemnly, hoping against hope that he still had time, “The Templars will start their purge soon.”

.

.

And now, we have a race between Daniel and Clay on who can find the other quicker. The purge will still take out some of the Assassins, Clay might have been able to warn them but trying to order everyone to escape took time, but more Assassins escaped this time around.

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Into the Depths 1

Sorry for no updates yesterday; I spent the entire day making food, watching longform YouTube videos, and working on some other artistic outlets. In the interest of maintaining my anonymity until at least the end of this project and possibly indefinitely after that, I won't be sharing them (well, I can't send home-cooked food over the internet anyway - yet! Get on that shit, techbros!) but you'll be relieved to know they turned out well. I'm only just now sitting down at the computer this evening after a day that mostly tanked due to me starting to feel under the weather, but I think I know the cure - and obviously, it's the single greatest simulation game of all time, Dwarf Fortress.

There's no better way to start off a session than crashing the game, so I decide to make a nice and agonizingly slow "quick"save and throw Rushsly into Stonesense, the isometric-3D fortress visualizer which is notoriously stable when used with the Steam release and mods. Well actually it was working fine before I tried to maximize the window, then it crashed. I could find some way to blame the program for that, but I've been reading "The Inner Game of Tennis" lately, and though I'm not very far into it, I get the gist that I probably shouldn't, but also I shouldn't blame myself either? When I say not very far, I mean literally 4 or 5 pages. Are you even allowed to say you're "reading" a book when you've barely made it past the foreword and preface? Fine. I'm browsing The Inner Game of Tennis, and I'll consider myself reading it in 20 or 30 pages. Anyway, the fort looks pretty unassuming from the top, besides that "chimney" which is not actually there, but I can't get anyone up there to destroy the "downward staircase" tile without creating another "downward staircase" tile, which I'd need to get someone up there to destroy on and on over and over forever for the rest of my life. It doesn't have an "upward staircase" tile below it so it's purely a cosmetic blemish. Clear glass tiles also look very funny in Stonesense.

The furnace floor, where I already had to alter the stockpile by a single tile so I could put down a floor tile to stop the growth of a young tower-cap. I fucking hate floor fungus!!

The catacombs really do look a bit shit from this angle sorry kobbles. The little magma pockets do look cool though.

The (secondary now, I guess?) production floor is such a fucking mess and I hate it but I'm never going to do anything about it.

The tavern and chief's chambers look pretty cool though! I like that the dogs get sprites but my kobbles are just the letter "k." I feel bad for the people in the bedroom below who have a clear glass ceiling. Imagine trying to sleep and a bunch of motherfuckers are dancing above you and you can not only hear but see it the whole time. What a life!

And the only other floor of any visual interest is the barracks+hospital+dungeon floor. I like that stonesense makes the wells into faucets. Kobbles got plumbing lol

It always hurts to give a miner a different job, since I like it when the mining gets done fast, but since he wasn't particularly great at it anyway: Zhag, the miner who did not give a single shit about breaching the caverns, has been transferred to the military right around the time that a couple years of constant training starts really paying off for On Speechlessmonstrous and Zomrca Lulledjackals. In fact, it's sparring with one another that brought on this "level-up."

Two girls, both keenly aware of their bodies and the way they move, pushing each other to greater and greater heights of martial prowess. I don't care who you are, that's yuri. And also they're drunk. But kobbles, like dwarves, are basically always drunk. There was a time when I'd be like "Same! That's so me, lol!!" but it's long been over. I don't actually miss alcohol, I just miss the way alcohol used to feel, the effect it used to have on me. For the last little while, whenever I finally gave in to the temptation to knock some shots back every 2 or 3 weeks I would just suddenly jump-cut straight to the next day, waking up with literally all my clothes on including my goddamn socks like a fucking bastard feeling absolutely miserable in every physical sense and terrified that I had fucking humiliated myself and made lifelong enemies in the 25 Discord conversations I didn't remember starting. Now if I try to drink at all my body just says "no, fuck you. Go to bed" and all I can bring myself to do is lay down and get five to seven hours of miserably low-quality sleep - while still lucid enough to take my socks off, thank fucking god. I can't complain, really. The time from my early 20s when drinking made everything beautiful and everyone into my friend has long been over. If I never wake up in a stranger's bed or literally drooping halfway off the couch of their back porch again it'll still be too soon. But it's fine for kobbles to drink I guess. They were literally programmed to do it

At only 136 steel bars, it feels a bit too early to be getting the kobbles into steel armor, but new weapons and shields should do them well - provided they're not all too attached to their current gear. The dream is, eventually, adamantine, but to tell the truth I've never actually gotten that far in a fort. They either died in a horrible violent tragedy or from the miserable slowness of FPS death far before we could chance upon any Hidden Fun Stuff. To be completely honest, despite making a few attempts as early as early as 2009, even installing it on the computers at my high school and getting away with playing it all through study hall because nothing that looks like that could possibly actually be a game, I really never figured the game out or had any real success. I just didn't have the patience to either learn to read the ASCII or manually check every tile every time I wanted to know what anything was. This was back when carp were serious threats and rhesus macaque invasions were commonplace - the Brazil era, as I've literally just now decided to dub it - but half the things I take for granted really weren't even in the game yet. Also, on those same high school computers I managed to install Cave Story, and I got all the way to Hell before getting hopelessly stuck, which is what happens to me basically every time I play Cave Story, though I did manage to beat Hell & Ballos just once as a kid. I like to joke that my soul is stuck in Cave Story Hell forever until I finally beat it one more time, but sometimes I get scared it's not a joke. One time my friends came over while they were tripping on acid, and I was stoned and playing PaRappa the Rapper, and they were watching with so much delight but then I got to the bathroom level and just couldn't fucking do it, failing attempt after attempt, and one of those same friends professed to me years later that he feels like part of his soul is still trapped in the PaRappa the Rapper bathroom level, instead of experiencing the catharsis of the big concert finale level. The other friend from that time is no longer my friend because he burned down his fucking house with a turtle and several dogs and cats inside. All the dogs and most of the cats escaped but the turtle did not and since then he has been in permanent rehab because every time he almost finishes up at a halfway house he decides "you know what, I should take mushrooms right now. I should get so high on cough medicine that I can't even pretend to function for 5 minutes. While I'm in this fucking halfway house that I could be free from if I just waited one or two more weeks to take these mushrooms or cough medicine." I mean I can't really begrudge him the drugs but, well, actually I think I can. I can begrudge anyone for anything if I want. He also had a pad on the floor where his dogs could shit instead of just taking them out, I mean that's not just on him that's on his whole family being fucked up. Basically just fuck that guy

We'll be breaching the first cavern layer in earnest soon. I'm not quite sure what I actually want to do down there - fungiwood and tower-cap don't actually interest me, considering how much wood we have on the surface, and farming has been going so well that we don't really need anything edible from down here, either. Maybe I just want to stir the pot. Maybe I just want conflict. You know there's a reason why people who play this game say "losing is fun" and it's beca

Oh Fuck Oh Shit No No No Oh Shit Get The Fuck Out Of There Everybody Get The Fuck Inside Right Now Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh My God Please No ... errr .......

Everyone has more than enough time to get inside safely, because... it's a fucking giant tortoise. In the time it takes for everyone who was topside to get safely into the base, the weretortoise has... not moved a single tile.

The moat bridge is retracted, marksmen are poised and (hopefully) ready to fire, but uhh... I don't want to say I overreacted, but I may in fact have overreacted.

Its kill record is not impressive, either. I'm more impressed by the names of some of these places it's been. "Grayhatchet" is actually pretty cool. "Questsloshed" that one sounds kind of horny... "Womansoak" That's what they call me when I walk up in the fucking club LOL !!!!!!!! Sorry. I'm going to be normal again.

The were-tortoise reverts back to a lobster (yes I have the mod that adds crustacean civilizations installed on this world) and skitters away off the map and far from my mind. Honestly, he might be more intimidating in this form. However strong the were-tortoise form might be, it's not exactly effective. Another thing I learned is that the statue "radar" does not actually tell you where or which statue was toppled, it literally just says that one was. If I wanted to put in a bunch of effort, I could set up a system where I have statues of one material put on the west, another material on the east, other materials north and south, maybe even go 8-directional with it, but I kind of don't care. The reason that people who play a lot of Dwarf Fortress say that "losing is fun" has two reasons. First of all, there is no real "winning" in Dwarf Fortress - you can become the new Mountainhome of your civilization, sure, but that's more of "the best game state you can attain" than a victory. It ultimately just comes with more challenges: an entourage of picky, problem-causing nobles and a king/queen/gender-unspecific-position-of-royalty/whatever else show up to make demands, and it's not like you export a certain amount of wealth and roll the credits or something. The second is that, since you cannot win, getting your fortress to be perfect, infallible, and autonomous only actually serves to make the game boring. Losing is not just a learning experience as far as the actual mechanical game goes, but an exciting event that changes the story and landscape of your world. After this fort inevitably goes down in flames I am going to keep playing in this world and Rushsly will be not just a memory in my mind but something that existed and changed the culture and history of The Land of Nails, the biggest continent in The Dimensions of Portent. (Kind of a lame name though. Why don't you portend to go fuck yourself, lol. Not you the reader, just a general unspecified "you".)

There's motherfucking gold in them there hills, tons of gems too. I'm prone to ignore stuff like silver and cassiterite because it's not that valuable and more important not that interesting to me, but I can absolutely be tempted by the glint of gold, and much like Sonic Adventure 2's breakout MILF Rouge the Bat I always love a good gem. If you don't think she's a milf you're looking at the wrong pictures - the wiki is wrong, the writers and designers of the games are wrong, she is a 43 yr old cougar. And me well I just want to be the pudgy twink 10+ years younger than her that she is just ever so slightly emotionally abusive towards, not in the traumatizing way just the sexy way. Like "the hurting your feelings but then you also get aroused from it and afterwards she's like yeah you know i didn't actually mean it" way.

Fucking kitchen full of fucking miasma

Just USE THE BARRELS YOU FUCKING BASTARDS

Like why do they do this

With nothing but perfect timing, a metalcrafter falls into a strange mood that makes him cry out for:

-metal bars (He's already taken a platinum one)

-logs (We have plenty all over the fucking place but he won't grab any)

-silk cloth (We have 100s of these too, he won't take any)

-bones (which means we have to slaughter an animal in the same disgusting butcher room with the miasma and all the meat already just sitting on the floor.)

Zylr has made an enemy out of me but I am honor-bound to help his bitch ass create a masterpiece so fuck it.

He takes the bones and... just keeps bitching. I don't know. Does he just want more bones? Because I'm not going to be heartbroken over killing another horse. Fuck it. I'll gladly kill another horse. I hate horses and want them to not exist.

And yes, he did literally just want more bones.

And downstairs, they finally started putting things in barrels. Not before letting our food & meat stocks drop by literally hundreds of items, but I guess a win is a win. kind of. Not really a complete win yet either there's still very much some shit on the floor. Fuck it I'll just make them throw it out too. What were you really going to do with horse nervous tissue, like be honest. As usual I had to run cleanowned in dfhack like 5 times to make the kobbles actually start taking out the garbage but they did it. (I know the military backpack glitch but I don't understand how meals got claimed as owned without even making it out of the kitchen (I don't feel like explaining the military backpack glitch right now but I can later if someone asks me to (We're kind of losing the fucking plot here though (and suddenly I care about that))))

Zylr had the good sense to offer this to me instead of keeping it as a personal treasure, and I mean, 20k value ain't bad. Most interestingly is the chain either has an image of itself on it, or is making a reference to another platinum chain that exists somewhere. It would be really funny to just put it in the dungeon and tie criminals to it, but it feels weirdly appropriate to put it in one of the churches, so I'm going to do that instead.

AMBUSH TIME!!!!

The fucking pricks are going after our bird towers. It's so personal now.

Their necromancer doesn't even make it past the first row of traps.

A boar that their necromancer resurrected literally kicks one of them to death. I don't think these guys are very good at this.

With their... leader(??) and three of their most fearless caged, and one of their least lucky shredded into fucking bits, the stragglers just awkwardly wander off the map to go hide. They didn't even make it past the third row of traps on the very first level.

They also did not even make a dent in our bird numbers, despite them being the only targets they were able to even take shots at. Though this does serve to prove we need to reinforce the Bird Towers to prevent unnecessary loss of bird life, that's literally all it proved. They will one day be back with more, they may come back with the idea of maybe not walking straight into the trap hallway, but for now they are idiots who barely managed to kill a single goose.

Unfortunately, speaking of idiots, our marksbold squad was deployed up to the fortifications above the trade depot, and despite getting a clear shot on one of them, fucking did nothing because the ones with bows keep picking up bolts and the ones with crossbows keep picking up arrows. Since different types of ammo is a mod thing, there's no actual option to force them to use one or the other, I guess our best bet is to just dispose of all the bows and arrows and force everyone to use only crossbows. I don't feel like doing that right now though and I've also hit the 30 image limit again so you'll just have to find out whether that even works or not on the next exciting episode of Rushsly. I probably should have ended it on a cliffhanger but I think it's funnier if the thing you have to look forward to is just me cleaning out some traps, figuring out to do with some prisoners, and trying to fix a military logistics problem. This ain't that new-fangled Witch from Saturn Ion gundam show this is the classic 1979 gundam. WHO WILL SURVIVE?

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.”