#once im free and have the motivation to draw ill do a better piece for the rasklonikovs 💪

[erosyrup]

Crime and Punishment: *hands me a pair of doomed siblings*

Me: woag...

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

[choko-flan]

How does one get started in making rpg games? What do you do first? Also could you recommend some rpg maker devs to follow?

۹(ÒvÓ)۶ Thankyou for this ask btw!For how to get started in making rpg games there’s many factors to take accountwhich are: 

Are you new to rpg maker? 

If you never use rpg maker I strongly say thatyou 

SHOULDN’T go head first and make a super long game. Youcan, but just note that you are going to get stuck on everything. Just making asmall test project to get to know the engine really helps you to know how tobasically use the engine. 

USE YOUTUBE ITS YOUR FRIEND. 

Whattype of story do you want to make?

Try to write down the basic ideas of thetype of game you want to make. For example: a game about a young elf girl istrying to find the shard pieces for a star she broke. Just something basic, fora concept it doesn’t have to have a million endings and everything the fullgame is going to have.

Demon Tea’s concept idea was basically ademon girl that ran from home and found a village where she met a happy golucky person. 

Concepts =/= the final game, your concept is just the foundation/ plan ofthe game. Like how you draw guide lines for a drawing, the guide lines aren’tgoing to be in the final picture but its there to help you.

Don’t go crazy on your game: Don’t get trap in remake hell [PERFECTIONISM]

We all want to make our games amazing and the bestthing ever, but please take in account that nothing can be perfect. Its not abad thing it’s the truth, there is no such thing as a perfect game. Every gamehas flaws but even if a game isn’t perfect it can still be enjoyable. Perfect=/= enjoyable.

Enjoyable= how a person felt about a certain thing. I enjoy sonic adventure 2 and it’s avery flaw game but I still enjoy it. Like how people enjoy the movie the room, it’sa very flaw movie but people love it because of the flaws since it makes themovie.

Thoughjust because the game isn’t perfect =/= not to care how you made the game, youshould put effort and care into the game. Just remember that the game is somethingyou are doing for fun and enjoyment. Don’t go crazy over wanting to make thebest game in the world, since this is a subjective term. Meaning what peopleview as the best is different from you.

Justdo your best and the work will pay off for sure.

Whatis the reason you want to create the game?

Understand your true motive on why youwant to create the game you are making the game and make sure you always rememberwhy you are making the game.

But please note: that you should be makingthe game for fun and because you want to do it, making a game just to be popularcan be a reason but it would be something that drives perfectionist since youare trying to make a game people like rather than a game you care about. This would lead to self-doubt andredoing things over and over never making progress. You can dream about seeingpopular lets players playing your game and having a bunch of people playing it.BUT DON’T think its going to be the next Undertale and get ahuge fanbase of people all around you go crazy about things. Don’t expect yourgame to go off the day you release it, don’t get upset that you only got 10downloads on day one. Be happy that you did it, that you let your game out inthe world.Everything will pay off but don’t justthink you’ll get super popular, popularity takes time and just happens. Don’tgo crazy on being popular, rather think of the main reason you want to createthat story.

 Popular =/= happiness, it’s nice to havepeople caring about your work, just don’t have it all go to your head andstress yourself out into a perfectionist cycle.  

Trynot to compare yourself to others:

This is something I’m familiar with, comparingyourself to other devs or games and bashing yourself because “why can’t I bethat good”.  Please understand this: 

YOU ARE YOU!

I mean this you are you, don’t look at othersand put yourself down since what I learn is that there always someone behindyou looking up to you. You think you are the worst but there’s people who findyour work amazing. Your work is blind to yourself because you see it every day,but to someone else its amazing.

You must be you, not like dev x and devy. You can be inspired by them but don’t doubt yourself on how you can’t do thingslike them.

 EVERYONE CAN DRAW AND CAN-DO THINGS.  It’s the matter of learning the skill to getbetter at it. Art is a skill not a talent, its something you master and keepgetting better at. Same with being a dev you get exp points and you level up.Like a rpg tbh since you get exp and level up the more you practice a skill.

Learnto take feedback:

When someone gives you feedback on yourgame there are different types which I won’t cover all of them. Just know youare letting your game out in the public eye, you will have people who tell youthey like your game and others who tell you they didn’t enjoy it. If its civilthat’s A-Okay, since its their opinion.

 You will get feedback that is critiques whichisn’t a bad thing, just understand if it’s someone who is just saying “Yourgame sucks” or “The protag looks weird” without context, this isn’t a critique.Don’t censor critiques btw, like if people are pointing out things like thegame has plot holes or things that are feedback that can help your work. Don’tyell at them or shut them down, take the advice. Just because the player doesn’tmake games don’t mean they can’t give you feedback. 

Feedback is free and helpful so take all you can get from it.

Justdo it:

I canlist everything about being a dev, but this is what I can say to you, just doit. If you are passionate about wanting to create a game just do it. Once Iheard about rpg maker games I didn’t ask anyone I just dive head first into it.OvO/ It’s amazing now that people can ask other devs things like this about howto get into making games.

 Beinga dev =/= an alien. No, we are just people who have a huge passionate in storytelling,art, music, games, etc. Making games is a media that lets a person get to seethe world in the eyes of the character.

 Withrpg maker it makes it easier for people to get into game making which helpsthem get into another engine. It doesn’t matter if you are making a rpg makerbattle system, a spooky horror game, a walking simulator, etc. Make the gameyou dream of making and just do it.

 Everythingin the world has been done before, but just take your spin at it, make a gameyou enjoy and don’t let others put you down since you want to make a game abouta young sweet female protag that wakes up in a strange world but can’t rememberwho they are. Just make the game you want to make.

Amazing Devs to Follow:Here’s some amazing devs to follow, who all haveamazing games.

ClockworkPrince 

@rukomura-games

@zmakesgames

@akademia-project

@toxicshroomswamp

@virgovsthezodiac

@blinking4soup

@lonestargame

@land-sea-entropy

@living-playground

@pannacotta1

@plueschkatzeart

@overcast-rpg

@arcadea-rpg

@blackcrystalsrpg

@teal-crown

@midnighttrain-project @teamstellaria

@pakilusin

@akuinome

@purple-game

I do hope this was helpful in some way,I drop what dev work I was doing to answer this since it just made my day. Ihope this helps anon, and if you need anything just ask. I hope this informationwas helpful, I tried my best not to make a text wall. In the future I’ll make agoogle document about things I took and learn from being a game dev. ( I really hope this text wall was okay)

(≧∇≦*) I hope you have a wonderful day btw.

[nyxwordsmith]

Deserved Rest

A/N: So it’s my dear friend, Parker’s birthday today, and I wanted to do something nice for them. It’s only been six months since they first approached me on Tumblr, and it honestly feels like we’ve known each other so much longer. So, Parks. I hope you have a fantastic, wonderful day and you better get spoiled absolutely rotten. Love ya, kiddo. Though much has changed, you are still such an amazing person.

 Happy birthday, @red-the-ruler

Warnings: None that I know of (I know right? Nyx writing a fic with no warnings? What the heckity heck?? Feel free to let me know if I missed any tho!)

Roman didn’t know exactly what was wrong. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. But…they just…

What did they want!?

They slumped forward, burying their face in their hands and groaning to themselves in the quiet of their room. It wasn’t like the day went…particularly bad. And it also wasn’t like it went…well. So why did they feel so…bad?

There were things to do…Patton had asked them to do the dishes, since Logan was out working late…but they really didn’t want to leave their room. It was hard to find the motivation when they didn’t know what was wrong.

Roman was used to Logan’s curt, almost stern knock on their door. They were used to Patton’s soft, almost bubbly knock. It always threw them off when Virgil just walked in. Sure, they’d told Virgil to do so whenever he wanted too, they were best friends after all, but they forgot.

Their head snapped up when they sensed the presence halfway into their room, eyes widening when they saw the exhaustion on Virgil’s face.

“You’re home.” He said, voice cracking and exhausted.

“Yeah.” They answered quietly as their hands dropped.

Virgil’s face scrunched up a little, “You didn’t come say hi.”

A weak smile spread on Roman’s face, “I-“ they sighed, “No, I’m sorry-“

Whatever apology Roman had was lost when Virgil literally tackled them onto the bed, knocking most of the wind from their chest in a surprise laugh.

“Virgil-“ Roman squirmed, trying to get onto their elbows, but the other Side had landed flat on their chest, face buried in the crook of their neck, “Virgil, what are you-“

“Punishment.” Virgil murmured quietly, “We sleep.”

Roman couldn’t help the laugh that escaped them again, trying push Virgil off, but was he getting heavier?

“Dad wants me to wash the dishes, Virge, c’mon.” they laughed again, trying to shove Virgil off.

The other Side grabbed the blankets, digging a knee into the mattress so Roman couldn’t throw him off, “I’m punishing you.” Virgil answered in a tired yawn, “No chores.”

Well, there was no winning this argument. Roman let themselves fall back against the mattress and sighed dramatically, rolling their eyes, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Virgil scoffed as he made himself more comfortable, “Had a nap. Nightmare.”

“So, you came in here?”

“See if you were finally home.” Virgil’s voice was starting to get softer, his words drawing out, “Missed you…” he sighed into Roman’s neck, “Why gone so long?”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle, wrapping an arm loosely over Virgil’s waist, “I missed you too, buddy.” Already feeling a little better from the company. Virgil made a happy little whine against Roman’s neck, and they could feel him smiling as he settled in, “And you know I had to do some stuff with the court.”

“Gone…too long…” Virgil yawned, “Bestie…”

Roman smirked, “Look, buddy, before you fall asleep, this is not a comfortable spot to be in.”

Virgil grumbled unhappily, pushing himself up off of Roman and gave them his best attempt at a glare. Roman couldn’t help but grin as Virgil only really managed to squint and frown, before crawling toward Roman’s pillow.

“Thank you.” Roman teased, kicking off their shoes and shedding their jacket, before crawling up to join Virgil.

“Happy now?” Virgil murmured tiredly, eyes closed and already starting to relax, “Make me move…” he pouted, sinking into Roman’s pillow as he fell asleep.

Roman smiled, their eyes on Virgil as they started to relax themselves, “Yeah…much happier. Thank you.”

A small, tired smile pulled on Virgil’s face. Roman knew he was too far gone now to remember anything he said, “Welcome, Princey.”

Roman’s own eyelids felt heavy as Virgil pulled them closer, nuzzling their chest, and Roman wrapped their arm back around Virgil’s waist.

“G’night.” Virgil yawned into Roman’s chest.

Whatever that bad feeling was, it was starting to ease as Roman let their own eyes drift closed and nuzzled Virgil’s hair, “G’night…”

   “Logan.” Patton whispered as the exhausted teacher approached, a mug of coffee in his hands. He looked forlornly to his study, then back at Patton, who was peering into Roman’s room. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Logan rolled his eyes and made his way over to Patton, sipping at his coffee.

“Patton, dear, what have I said about-“

“Shh!” Patton quickly shushed, smiling when he turned to look up at his husband, before nodding to the door. Logan carefully leaned over to peer through the crack in the door, and he couldn’t help the fond smile that spread over his face.

“Must have been a long day.” Logan murmured quietly and Patton hummed in agreement.

“At least their resting.” Patton agreed, smiling at his kiddos as they lay curled up together.

Logan sighed, glancing down at his mug of coffee, and this time, when he looked to his study, his nose wrinkled. He took Patton’s hand gently in his, “Like we should be.”

“Don’t you have papers to grade?” Patton asked softly as he closed the door and let Logan guide him to the bedroom.

“I don’t wanna.”

Patton grinned and giggled as Logan waited for Patton to open the door before abandoning his coffee on the desk just inside, “I thought you’d say that.”

The rest is just taglists!!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES (It’s long af)

General A-G @a-blog-just-for-sanders @alwaysmy-lilith @alyssadashrub @areyousirius-noheisdead  @catnip002 @celestial-evening @darastrix-thurirl  @darkle-elkrad @eye-of-terrific @evillive369 @fandoms-n-ship @fandomsofrandom  @fivecroftersjams @fullmetallovr21 H-N @hamster-corn @helloisthisusernametaken @hissesssss  @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @imasmallchild @justanotherpurplebutterfly  @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @meginoi O-U @onehundredphans @peanut0303  @princeyandanxiety @red-the-ruler @royallyanxious @swlotakulady34 @skadinavien  @sos-fandoms @s0ftdoddleoddle  @pearly-sims T-Z @themysteriousballetanon @the-prince-and-the-emo @thestoryofme13 @threepeppers @toujours-fidele @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms  @winglessnymph @xxfluffypandazxx @yall-need-andraste

Romantic Logicality

 @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @completelyclevername @emphoenixcat @fandergecko @too-random-for-me @whyamihereohwell @tree4life25 @deathbyvenusftw @ill-interested @just-another-transblog @the-prince-and-the-emo @ams-parker @theanxietyofbeinganxious @allthemetalsoftherainbow @treblesanders @depressed-alone @rose-gold-roman @theroyalramen @hikariyukino @icbatocomeupwithausername @walking-encyclopedia @magicmapleleaf @pieces-of-annedrew @saphirestrike @asalwayss @romanssippycup @pastel-patton123 @virgils-anxiety @redundant-statements-for-400 @skylagamingfea @clueingforblogs @thatonenerdtm @logicalspecs @migraine-marathon @alextheodd @alyssadashrub @pansexual-cat @hanramz-the-fander @anastasialestina @prplzorua @darude-sanderstorm @kurna-kovite @royallyanxious @a-blog-just-for-sanders @trashfireiplier @happypappypatton @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @sanderssides-deathangel @lacandra @221biotchplease @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @pattykrabbies @shygirl4991 @strangerthings-and-phan @musicphanpie-b @silversunshine2012 @lockolocka @virgils-hoodie @makemeaplant @out-of-existence @koalaaquabear @catsandrandomness @virgil-has-a-houseplant @musicsavedmefromdeath @heythereprincey @dudlebuggs @on-lock-like-attica @siriuswhiskers @pinkeasteregg @virgilisaneternalmood @thepusheenqueen @artistictaurean @funsizedgremlin @poundland-twoface @logan-exe @thecrimsoncodex @yourmomsafalsehood @robanilla @dementeddracon @ive-given-up-on-it @v-blue-writer @hunterjaegerthings @sanders-fam-ily @trashypansexual @toujours-fidele @paxtonlovestea @lowkey-logicality @do-rey-me @hottopicvirge @rptheturk @candiukas @nottodaylogic @shadow-walker-1201 @milomeepit @grey-lysander @fricksonsticks @baileystarsketches @ace-of-hufflepuffs @voices-and-stardust @deadinsidebutliving @ocotopushugs @moonlightinwater @datonerougecookeh @lana--22 @kentato-kenart @logically-sided @osnapitzbc @microsoft-nerd @theworldismysupernova @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @mercythemermaid @pearls-of-patton @fabulousfanaticfander @jade-dragon226-fan @jesusonafrickinboat @mollycassmith @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @nightmarejasmine @juvenile-changeling @ace-v-p-d @pandagirl0730 @acrobaticcatfeline @sesame-icecream @fireflightyt @stars-in-mine-eyes @reba-andthesides @thesilentbluesparrow @angered-turtle @fanatic564 @didsomeonesayyoutube122 @emovirgil @captain-loki-xavier @save-dirk @evilmuffin @k9cat @louisthewarlock @asterias-confused-writings @bekkyboo2003 @too-precious-to-process @hissesssss @aph-roma @theworldismysupernova @imaflashcard @nuttytheorizer @notveryglittery @cripplingchips @thats-so-crash @sanders-sides-things @cinderlunarcyborg @anony-phangirl @thegreyacefromspace @savingshae @minamishipsit @kfc-chickenyo @theshipqueenarrives @nymphaedoratonks @unknownsandersfan @pansexual-cat @bluebellie01 @katatles-the-fish @elvishfrenchassassin @ashbash-the-trashcash

Platonic Prinxiety  @watch-me-introvert @sarcastic-anxious @emokittenlikesgore @fandergecko @completelyclevername @urtrashhq @thegirlwiththedragonheart @tree4life25 @too-random-for-me @hissesssss @deathbyvenusftw @ill-interested @just-another-transblog @inkyroo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @allthemetalsoftherainbow @depressed-alone @theroyalramen @rileyfirstname @hikariyukino @magicmapleleaf @pieces-of-annedrew @saphirestrike @asalwayss @romanssippycup @virgils-anxiety @redundant-statements-for-400 @skylagamingfea @clueingforblogs @ladynikitablack @vampyrsarah @haikyuupaladin @migraine-marathon @samidaboss3 @proudhufflepuff @alextheodd @sandersfanderscandoers @pansexual-cat @hanramz-the-fander @anastasialestina @prplzorua @darude-sanderstorm @sanders-sides-shambles @thestoryofme13 @i-will-physically-fight-you @a-blog-just-for-sanders @trashfireiplier @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @sanders-sides-things @callboxkat @kurna-kovite @221biotchplease @pattonly-absurd @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @prinxietypreoccupied @pattykrabbies @shygirl4991 @musicphanpie-b @sugarblob0 @silversunshine2012 @lockolocka @makemeaplant @today-only-happens-once @koalaaquabear @catsandrandomness @rose-gold-roman @musicsavedmefromdeath @devastate-my-space @anachronistic-cat @heythereprincey @dudlebuggs @spoonfullofcrofters @siriuswhiskers @thenerdycube @pinkeasteregg @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries @virgilisaneternalmood @kirsten-the-freak @thepusheenqueen @artistictaurean @funsizedgremlin @poundland-twoface @logan-exe @thecrimsoncodex @unknownsandersfan @yourmomsafalsehood @robanilla @dementeddracon @ive-given-up-on-it @v-blue-writer @blazeimagines101 @sanders-fam-ily @trashypansexual @toujours-fidele @paxtonlovestea @lowkey-logicality @do-rey-me @hottopicvirge @rptheturk @candiukas @nottodaylogic @ffsas-side-account @shadow-walker-1201 @milomeepit @grey-lysander @fricksonsticks @baileystarsketches @ace-of-hufflepuffs @voices-and-stardust @deadinsidebutliving @acechirou @ocotopushugs @datonerougecookeh @lana--22 @kentato-kenart @logically-sided @osnapitzbc @areyousirius-noheisdead @ruuworld @kiwibite @theworldismysupernova @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @mercythemermaid @pearls-of-patton @memesanddreamsinc @jade-dragon226-fan @mollycassmith @juvenile-changeling @ace-v-p-d @acrobaticcatfeline @sesame-icecream @roman-is-a-gay @reba-andthesides @thesilentbluesparrow @angered-turtle @fanatic564 @emovirgil @misc-merde @captain-loki-xavier @evilmuffin @k9cat @louisthewarlock @asterias-confused-writings @bekkyboo2003 @aph-roma @theworldismysupernova @notveryglittery @cripplingchips @thats-so-crash @cinderlunarcyborg @anony-phangirl @savingshae @minamishipsit @kfc-chickenyo @nymphaedoratonks @allaboutme713 @the-feels-are-coming @karmicmayhem @faacethefacts @radioactivebread @elvishfrenchassassin @ashbash-the-trashcash @angeliclogan

[themoneybuff-blog]

What the marshmallow test can teach us about money

By now, youve probably heard of the famous Stanford marshmallow experiment. Most folks are familiar with this fifty-year-old study and its conclusions. In case this is the first youve learned of it, however, Ill give a quick review. During the late 1960s, psychologist Walter Mischel tested the willpower of young children (roughly four years old). A researcher would bring the children one at a time into a room where they had access to a selection of treats, including marshmallows. The children were told that they could eat have one treat right away or, if they waited fifteen minutes, they could have two. Then the researcher left the room. [embedded content] While this study gave researchers an immediate glimpse at how children handle delayed gratification, it also yielded some interest long-term results. In 1990, Mischel (and colleagues) reconnected with some of the kids from the marshmallow test to see how life had turned out for them. This second study revealed that the children with the best self-discipline at four years old grew up to be more popular, more successful in school, and better able to handle stress. The kids with patience and willpower were less likely to turn to drugs and they were more physically fit. In short, the ability to wait fifteen minutes to earn an extra marshmallow as a preschooler seemed to be an excellent predictor of how well a child would be able to delay short-term gratification later in life in order to pursue long-term goals. Thats it. Thats the marshmallow test. Seems simple, right? Yet this simple experiment has become one of the most oft-cited studies in the world of pop psychology. Youll find it in books about entrepreneurship, habit formation, decision making, and yes personal finance. Theres just one problem. The NEW Marshmallow Test New research shows that perhaps the link between childhood willpower and adult achievement isnt as strong as we once believed. The new study the full text of which is available for free, at the moment attempts to remedy perceived flaws in earlier experiments. It uses a larger sample size, for instance, and draws info from a wider range of subjects. (The original studies used kids from the preschool on the Stanford campus, a relatively limited population.) This new study found that yes, there was a correlation between the ability to delay gratification and future academic achievement. However, this correlation was only about half as strong as reported in the original marshmallow test. Among kids whose mothers did not have a college degree, each extra minute a child was able to wait before eating a treat, his first grade achievement (how do you even measure that?) improved by roughly one tenth of a standard deviation. (To my mind, this still seems like a relatively substantial effect.) Academic achievement at age 15 showed a similar differentiation. Among kids whose mothers did have a college degree, the correlation between childhood willpower and future academic achievement was much smaller. The authors write: We observed that delay of gratification was strongly correlated with concurrent measures of cognitive ability, and controlling for a composite measure of self-control explained only about 25% of our reported effects on achievement. These results suggest that the marshmallow test may capture something rather distinct from self-control. What else might the marshmallow test be capturing? Interesting question. When looking at other variables tracked by the study, there seems to be a correlation between willpower and socioeconomic status. In households with higher income and greater education, kids waited longer before eating their marshmallows. (For more, see this recent article in The Atlantic. [embedded content] Scarcity and Abundance In college, I studied psychology. In the twenty-five years since I left school, Ive spent a lot of time reading about psychology in my spare time. Im fascinated by the human condition, by the things that shape us, motivate us, give us happiness and fulfillment. No surprise then that when I write about money, I do so through a psychological lens. I used to find a lot of finance advice frustrating because it ignored psychology. The books I read seemed to assume that humans are purely rational creatures who make only logical decisions with money. These assumptions didnt match my reality. This new interpretation of the marshmallow test that childhood willpower may stem from socioeconomic status fascinates me. It seems to be an concrete example of how our childhood environment helps to create our mental blueprints. (I believe we each possess mental maps or invisible scripts, if you prefer that guide our lives. Although Im primarily concerned with your money blueprint here at GRS, I believe we have mental maps that guide us through many aspects of life.) Although its not a popular opinion, I believe there are very real differences between the rich and the poor. There are certain wealthy habits that lead to better odds of success with life and money. But heres the thing: If youre not raised in an environment where these habits are prominent say youre the victim of systemic poverty and are never exposed to how wealthy people think and act it becomes much more difficult to learn them. For many people, poverty creates a scarcity mindset. This scarcity mindset can lead to all sorts of faulty financial habits. A couple of months ago, Erynn Brook and Emily Flake published a visual essay at Longreads about the difference between being broke and being poor. The piece is short and interesting you should read it! but this passage, in particular, reminds me of the marshmallow test.

When you live with lack for a long time, it changes how you approach life. If youre a kid whose family has struggled to get by, when youre given a marshmallow, youre going to eat it now. (Can you really trust itll be there later let alone that youll get the second one youve been promised?) If you were poor as a kid, when you manage money as an adult, a scarcity mindset can lead you to do things like immediately spend a windfall instead of saving it for the future. My Money Blueprint I think of my own family as an example. My brothers and I grew up poor. Our extended family had always been poor. My parents modeled the best habits they could, but they were limited by their own experiences (and mental blueprints). As a result, I entered adulthood with some faulty invisible scripts. For instance, my parents taught us that windfalls were to be spent. Although they rarely had much money, when they did come into cash, they spent it. Quickly. And on frivolous things. They never modeled what it was like to save and invest for the future. This is the adult version of failing the marshmallow test. Naturally, my brothers and I grew up with similar behavior patterns. None of us was poor and my parents eventually escaped poverty but we couldnt hold on to our money, either. When we had it, we spent it. We lived paycheck to paycheck despite decent salaries. (My youngest brother eventually lost two homes to foreclosure and had to declare bankruptcy.) If I had participated in the marshmallow experiment as a four-year-old, I can guarantee I would have eaten the treat as soon as the researcher left the room. Im nearing age fifty now and I still have to fight this sort of behavior. My scarcity mindset is real and its damaging even though I know its present. Im not trying to use my money blueprint as an excuse for my behavior but as an explanation. I acknowledge that Im responsible for my actions; I just want to know why I choose the actions that I choose. For more on this subject, check out my article about how to master the abundance mindset (and change your money blueprint). https://www.getrichslowly.org/marshmallow-test/