#partial file load

[mentalisttraceur-software]

Alright, so, to summarize all the Emacs Git/diff/pop-to-command/why-Magit-is-not-for-me posts: I am now a very happy user of one consistent interface for all diff-y text operations!

Before I headed down this path, I was looking at the prospect of having 3-5 different interfaces to deal with:

an Emacs-specific interface for Git (admittedly a very nice one for certain usage patterns and workflows - Magit brings some really really nice touches to the table),

a different Emacs-specific interface for viewing the differences between a file's on-disk and in-editor contents (Emac's built-in diff mode, which adds its own rather nice refinement to regular diff command output),

yet a third Emacs-specific interface for granularly applying/reverting changes between a file's on-disk and in-editor contents (Emac's built-in Ediff, which, again, is admittedly nice),

and possibly something else that I'd have to figure out, because after scouting a bit, it seemed that Ediff didn't really cover both partial save and partial reload out of the box.

And of course, I'd still occasionally find myself having to use the Git CLI outside of Emacs (and maybe even from inside Emacs, if I couldn't get Magit to properly wrap my git-cotree stuff).

And those Emacs solutions were going to demand specialized effort to learn, configure, integrate, work around, hack, and monkeypatch - much of that was not shared. There wasn't going to be any of the force-multiplication of just solving a thing in code/config once or mentally adapting once and getting the benefit everywhere. And I'd have to force them to behave in ways they weren't designed for where my UX preferences/needs were different.

Now, instead:

my Emacs interface for Git is just Git CLI commands, popping up in their own in-Emacs terminals when I call them;

my Emacs interface for getting differences between files on-disk and in-editor is just "git diff", using its built-in ability to work as a regular diff (which means I get niceties like Git's moved line detection and my git-delta setup);

my Emacs interface for granularly applying/discarding changes between a file and its buffer is just "git add -p" (the only touch I'm missing here is that I'd like to replace "Stage this hunk" in the prompt text with strings like "Save this hunk" and "Load this hunk", but near as I can tell that's hardcoded in one of the Perl files that make up the Git CLI);

to bring anything else into the same UI/UX, all I have to figure out is how to map those things into temporary files/directories for input and output (for example, grab the currently opened file or given file-name, and the first of its Syncthing sync-conflict files), and maybe more fundamentally how to enhance my diffing to handle them better (for example, bring in language-aware diffing like difftastic offers).

When I find myself outside of Emacs, the only thing I've lost is the efficient keybinds for the commands and the window splitting/management around them, not the core functionality and interface.

[cowplantcartel]

TS3 Cloud Pink UI - Alpha v2 Download

Hello hello!

I've added a lot of new sections to Cloud Pink UI and have decided to put it up for download. It's probably 75% done now - there's only a handful of sections left to complete (plus a million of those random popup windows), and then I'll need to go in and refine things and fix any issues.

Download link is at the bottom of the post!

Live mode

Build and buy mode

Create a Sim

Misc

In this version:

Live mode (main panel, sim portraits, interactions, pie menu, notifications, map view)

Build & buy mode

Edit town

Create a Sim

Create a Style

Loading screens

Incomplete/Not in this version:

Popup windows and tooltips - partially completed (there are so many omg)

Text/icon colours for some sections has not been converted yet

Colouring/style of tables is partially complete

Create a Pet/Bot not started

Some Create a Sim sections not started (e.g. plastic surgery)

Blueprint mode in build/buy mode not started

Known issues:

The Sims 3 logo on the main loading screen doesn't currently work for non-English languages

For custom careers, the career icon may have a pink overlay in the career panel

The main tooltip when you hover over buttons and things has a weird blur on the right hand side

There's a vertical white line in the relationship panel

Known conflicts:

Other UIs such as Clean UI, Blackout UI and any recolours

Loading screen replacements

Karma powers mod

xcas core mod

✅ Compatible with Lazy Duchess's Catalog Search mod

Thank you all so much for your support on the previous version. I'm so glad you love it 💖. And a special thank you to everyone that sent through feedback/issues - I haven't been able to fix everything yet, but I am still working on it!

As always if you have any feedback on this new version please feel free to mention it in the comments, send an Ask or just message me directly. I am grateful for any feedback 🩷

Credit: Gradient Blue loading screen by emelie.ikj on MTS (I just used their text strings files as the base for my loading screen text)

☕️ https://ko-fi.com/cowplantcartel

Download v0.2.0 (SFS)

[actuallybean]

Truth Hurts* | Part One

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Two Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The motel room smelled like cheap coffee and gun oil, and the rain outside tapped against the windows like a metronome counting down the moments before everything came undone.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through a local police report on your laptop. Sam paced behind you, reading aloud from the thick journal he’d been annotating since breakfast. Dean was slouched in the armchair by the window, polishing one of his pistols with casual precision—and absolutely not looking at your bare legs, even though you were sure he had at least three times already.

“Weird symbols carved into the chest,” Sam muttered, flipping a page. “Victim found in a locked room. No forced entry.”

“Witch,” you said, not looking up.

Dean smirked. “You say that like it’s your personal vendetta.”

“It is.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “You weren’t the one who spent three hours coughing up beetles the last time we dealt with one.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, yeah. That was gross. But I did hold your hair while you threw up, so I think I deserve partial trauma credit.”

Sam snorted. “That’s not how trauma works.”

Dean gestured vaguely with the gun oil rag. “Tell that to my dry-cleaning bill.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart warmed. This was your favorite part of the job—quiet, close, the three of you orbiting each other like gravity didn’t apply anywhere but here. You felt safe with them. Anchored. Loved, in a way that had never been spoken aloud but radiated from every shared glance, every brush of Sam’s hand when he handed you a file, every cup of coffee Dean slid silently across the table when you looked tired.

Still, the unsaid things weighed heavier than the salt rounds in your duffel.

Like how Dean’s gaze lingered a beat too long on your mouth when you smiled. Or how Sam’s fingertips would rest against your lower back for just a second more than necessary when you passed each other in tight spaces. Or how your heart ached for both of them, in different ways—but equally, deeply, stupidly.

You were too afraid to ruin it. So you didn’t say a word.

“Okay,” Sam said, snapping the journal shut. “There’s a pattern. Victims all worked at the same antique shop downtown. We go in tonight, after hours. Check for hex bags, maybe a cursed object.”

Dean cocked his gun and stood. “Cool. Witch-hunting on a Wednesday. Guess I’m skipping karaoke night.”

You laughed, stuffing silver bullets into your belt. “Since when do you sing in tune?”

Dean held a hand to his chest. “Wounded.”

Sam slung his bag over one shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can sing to the witch.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “That a kink I didn’t know about, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You grabbed your jacket, walking between them, hyper-aware of the heat that radiated from their bodies on either side of you. Dean opened the door and you stepped into the rain, your skin already tingling—not from the cold, but from the tension hanging thick between the three of you. Fragile. Unspoken.

Something was about to break.

And you had no idea that in less than 24 hours, you’d spill every secret you’d tried so hard to swallow—and they’d both be there to catch every single one.

✦

The antique store sat at the corner of a quiet block, shadowed by overgrown trees and cloaked in moonlight. The sign above the door was barely visible, letters faded and warped: Griffin’s Relics – Est. 1889. The air felt thick here, like something ancient was watching.

Dean jimmied the back door open with practiced ease while you and Sam kept watch, guns loaded with silver rounds just in case. The second you stepped inside, the hairs on your arms stood on end.

“This place smells like regret and lavender,” you whispered, nose wrinkling.

“Definitely witchy,” Dean muttered, flashlight cutting a path through the gloom.

Sam nodded toward the far corner. “Back there. Office space. That’s where the last victim was found.”

You moved as a unit—sweeping, scanning, breath tight. Glass cases lined the walls, filled with dusty jewelry, doll heads, rusted blades. The air hummed with residual magic, and you could feel it crawling along your skin like static.

“This place is a freakin’ cursed-object buffet,” Dean said, shining his light over an old porcelain mask. “I vote we torch it and grab burgers.”

You crouched beside a display case. “Hold on. These runes—they’re Norse. Protection and binding magic.”

Sam joined you, brow furrowed. “Definitely witch work. But why those? Protection for what?”

That’s when the trap triggered.

The second Dean stepped over the threshold into the office, the air snapped—like a rubber band pulled too tight. A sigil on the floor flared crimson, and an invisible force slammed the door shut behind him. You and Sam rushed forward, but it was too late—the room was sealed.

“Dean!” you shouted, hands on the doorknob. It was burning hot.

Dean’s voice was muffled from the other side. “I’m fine! Just pissed off—son of a bitch warded the room!”

Sam turned to the wall of shelves, searching for anything remotely magical. “There—look!”

You followed his gaze to a wooden idol—small, horned, its mouth carved open in a twisted grin. You both reached for it at once, and the moment your fingers touched it, a shockwave pulsed through the room.

Your knees hit the floor hard, vision swimming. You could hear Sam calling your name, feel Dean pounding on the door—but none of it made sense. There was a rush of heat, then cold, then—

Your chest heaved as the pressure faded, and Sam knelt beside you, wide-eyed and pale.

“You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Just… dizzy.”

Dean burst through the now-unguarded doorway, eyes wild. “What the hell was that?!”

You stood shakily. “It was cursed. Some kind of defense charm.”

Dean looked you over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I… I think so,” you breathed, blinking. “Everything feels weird.”

Sam hovered beside Dean. “It was a curse. Some kind of magical tripwire.”

Dean’s hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding. “What kind of curse?”

You looked at them, heart pounding, and tried to say “I don’t know.” But what came out was: “I ate the last slice of pie last night and I blamed it on Sam.”

Dead silence.

Dean blinked. “…What?”

You clapped your hands over your mouth. “That’s not what I meant to say!”

Sam’s brow furrowed, curious. “Wait. Try again. Say something you know isn’t true.”

You hesitated. “I hate coffee.”

You tried, but instead what came out was: “I once stole one of Dean’s flannels and sleep in it when I miss him.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Dean made a sound that was absolutely not appropriate for the middle of a witch hunt.

“Okay,” Sam said carefully. “You’re cursed. It’s a truth-binding spell. Classic magical compulsion—you can’t lie.”

You groaned, dragging both hands down your face. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

Dean looked entirely too amused. “So, just to clarify… you did eat the last slice of my pie.”

You glared at him. “And I’d do it again.”

Sam chuckled under his breath, but you could see the tightness behind his eyes—the worry. He wasn’t laughing at you. He was already working through how to fix it.

“We need to break the curse,” he said, scanning the shelves. “There’s probably a totem somewhere. Something binding the magic. If we find it—”

Dean nudged you gently, leaning in close. “You okay handling this until then? We won’t push.”

You nodded. “As long as no one asks me anything deep, I should survive.”

Dean smirked, but didn’t press.

Sam gave your shoulder a brief squeeze before stepping toward the back room. “Let’s find the source before you start telling us how you really feel.”

You smiled tightly, following them. They didn’t know it yet—but that was exactly what scared you most.

[bunny-jpeg]

show-off (johnny's version)

john "soap" mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, filming, choking, missionary, rough sex, dirty talk (johnny's got the mouth on him), dom!johnny, sub!reader, messy & rough sex, (partial) crying kink, overstimulation

simon's version | price's version | kyle's version

johnny just loved you. you met at the central branch of the public library in edinburgh. you worked as a librarian, even though most of your days were spent hauling carts of returned books around, you felt happy about it. it was a fulfilling job.

but the sargent adored you. the first thing he did when he came home from anytime away as picking you up a nice bouquet of flowers and waiting around the library till you finished up work for the day! it was a charmed little life, and you were a missing piece in johnny's life.

which is why, on a sunny summer morning, the rest of 141 found an interesting video in the team's group chat. a hefty little film that piqued the interest of the three men. the file was labeled "070824_babygirl.mp4".

the video started simple, it was a shot of you in your apartment. in the bed you shared with johnny. but what was interesting was that you were on your back, with the phone's flashlight beaming on your face which gave a clear sight of johnny's other hand around your throat.

it was a erotic sight, you were laid in the soft bed while johnny looked like he was about to fuck you well into the mattress. johnny asked, "how does it feel, baby girl?"

you nodded.

"nah, nah, use yer words." he encouraged as the pressure around your throat grew. you whimpered and he only chuckled, the camera still pointed on you.

"it feels good, johnny."

"nuh uh, uh." he said as he pushed the phone a little further towards you and said, "it ain't johnny tonight, bonnie. don't make me smack ya."

"no, sir." you swallowed, "it feels good, sir." you whined and arched your back a little.

the camera cut down to the sight of johnny's erect cock teasing your pussy. his cock was painfully hard, it was a deep red in colour and leaking precum. your pussy was soaked, with your wetness gleaming in the light of the flashlight.

"pretty thing, huh? don't cha think boys?" he laughed, "take me like a fuckin' champ too. she shouldn't countin' books, she should be countin' how many loads i can get in 'er in a day!"

you whimpered, the language johnny used was definitely not the kind he used when he was bringing you flowers at the library. this was reserved for the dirtiest depths of your bedroom at the most depraved hours of the evening.

he was such a gentleman. but behind the camera as he teased your pussy, he was a menace. mean and crass.

"i see how the boys look at ya." he chuckled darkly, his hand a little firmer on her neck, "i bet they got their pants dropped to the floor and their leaky cocks out to jerk themselves off."

you whined and arched your back. he never fully cut off your air, but the racing in your chest as the possibility of him doing that was immense.

johnny got a good shot of him feverishly making out with you. you whimpered and groaned against him. your pussy throbbed as you could feel his weight on top of you.

"pretty girl." he groaned, "fuckin' beauty. ya like that boys?" he asked the camera before he pulled away and got in position to fuck you properly. his special bonnie deserved to have his cock buried inside of her.

"sir." you whined, "please, please, please!"

johnny chuckled, he pulled his hand away from your throat and slipped his thumb between your lips. the camera trained on you, "my bonnie."

filming this was a surprise, but in a way it was johnny laying proper claim on you. the video would never leave the group chat, it would be saved under a virtual lock and key. no prying eyes except for the task force. he wanted to show that the lovely little librarian was his and his only.

as he slipped his cock into you with rather ease and watched your face scrunch up from the weight inside of you, johnny wanted his teammates to see how much of a good girl you were for him.

"ain't she just special." he purred, egging his teammates on through the camera as he fucked you. he knew he'd probably get some interesting messages once this was sent to the others. but he'd never tell you what those dogs through of you taking his cock so well.

you gripped the bed under you and you could feel the oppressive gaze of the camera on your bare body. you trusted johnny and you trusted the task force that this little video would stay safe. the last thing you wanted was the embarrassment of knowing that you took cock like a champ!

"you're so beautiful." he said, "fuckin' beautiful. don't want anyone else but you, i want to fuck you until i can't anymore. you're my bonnie, my sweet girl." his voice was laced with heavy lust, "how much you take of me, you just take it all so good."

you whimpered, "johnny."

"ah, ah, ah, don't slip up now, bonnie." he said as he squeezed your thigh, "i'd hate for this to turn into a punishment video. i know ghost would love the sight of your bruised ass." he chuckled as he continued to fuck you.

the sounds of sex filled the bedroom and picked up on the camera's microphone. it was in crystal clear audio. the boys knew that your pussy was being bruised from his heavy thrusts.

"please, sir!" you whimpered as you laid under him. you tried to keep up with his pace but it was hard, johnny could be so erratic in bed. he fucked you like a man on a mission. it was messy and loud.

"i like how you say that, girlie.' he laughed as he held your face to look at the camera. he held you jaw tightly as he watched pretty little tears form in your eyes form the over stimulation.

your core throbbed with an insistent need to have every last inch of your boyfriend's cock buried inside of you. you were just so painfully cute.

"so cute when you cry." he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. he held your face as he pulled away to get the best angle of filming. he wanted the experience to be pleasurable for his team too. he huffed through his nose as he felt the heat in his body.

"sir." you blubbered.

johnny chuckled and watched you cry. the flashlight on the phone was so bright and made you whimper even more. but johnny just adored the sight, "pretty thing." he purred, "fuck yer little brain out so you can't even go to work tomorrow." he laughed as he bounced you on his cock.

you tried to use the sheets as leverage to keep you steady but johnny's hard thrusts just sent you into overdrive. he was battering your cute little cunt and you were practically drooling on it.

"no one at the library would've ever guessed that she was such a fuckin' hound for me cock.' he laughed, his language was degrading but it made you squeeze around his cock, "those cute little skirt hide those soaked panties. i keep tellin' 'er that i should be fuckin' 'er in the bathroom durin' 'er break! maybe the boys can give me a lil advice on how to make you more agreeable. how do ya feel about that?"

you looked up at him, tears still twinkled in your eyes as you tried to say another word, but it died in your throat as your body tensed up. you squeezed your eyes shut and your mouth opened a little as a healthy moan left your lips.

"good, bonnie." he said, "cum fer me."

you clawed at the covers and arched your back as you felt your head go into a spin. you came around his cock. you panted heavily, your lungs burned for air as you hit your peak. the drop down from it left you dizzy and your tongue hanging out of your mouth like a dog.

johnny patted your face, happy he caught your climax on camera. he turned his attention to his cock spearing you open. he pointed the device to your pussy that was still so greedy for his cock. the milky rim around the base of his cock that dripped down his hairy balls was a sign that he was treating his missus right.

he continued to bounce you on his cock. he even played with your clit a little which caused you to kick your legs out and almost yelp from the shock of pleasure. maybe that would be a little overkill (for tonight).

his pace staggered, as if it wasn't an disorganized mess already. he looked down at you with hunger as he felt his cock twitch inside of your sweet heat. you were an all consuming force and johnny was obsessed with you.

not in a stalking in a bushes sense, but rather follow you to the ends of the earth. he watched you shed a few more tears as he felt his climax in the back of his throat.

"good girl. a good little slut for me." he purred, "i bet the rest of the team is going to love it." he got in closer and asked, "do you have a little message for the boys?"

"si..sir." you whimpered.

johnny chuckled, "poor, lass." he rubbed your head by your forehead, jerking it around playfully as he continued his assault on your cunt, "fuck those last few brain cells out." his pat on your face was almost patronizing.

his orgasm pulled at him as the tight heat of your cunt lured him in. he could feel the seat down his back as he gave it a last few strokes before he slammed himself to the root and finished inside of you.

he licked his lips and slowed down. it felt so good. he swallowed in an attempt to compose himself after the intense feeling. he was still filming your sweet pussy.

"wanna tell the boys how yer doin'?" he asked after a few moments of silence with a chuckle, "pretty girl, face full of tears." his accent hung heavy as wiped your tears away with the scratchy pad of his thumb.

"feels good, sir."

"that's what i like to hear. pretty bonnie under me, legs spread up. lettin' me fuck her for ma boys." he laughed, "got me goin' all over again."

"johnny please." you whimpered.

'alright, alright." he said, his voice a little softer, "i'll turn the camera off and make sure you get fucked right to sleep. say goodnight to the team."

you blinked up at the camera, you looked like a debauched little slut as you said, "goodnight simon, goodnight captain price, goodnight kyle."

johnny patted your cheek and you melted into his touch. he said, "ma girl knows her manners." then the video cut off.

there was a message that was sent after the video was sent, it said, "pretty little thing, eh? you can only look don't touch!" <3

[storiesofsvu]

One ask wasn't enough! So, how about these prompts, with Cabot?

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" and

"Don't... I'm ticklish!"

Thank youuuu 🥰🥰

Thank YOU so much!! Here ya go!

Insomnia Strikes

Alex Cabot x reader (more implied than anything else lol) Warnings: mentions of anxiety/insomnia, I think that's about it. Just a nice little comfort one shot.

Being the natural night owl that you were, you never had any problems swapping shifts around when someone on the squad got roped into an overnight shift. You honestly didn’t mind it, you basically chilled alone, ate snacks, scrolled through your phone and answered a handful of phone calls that the desk clerk downstairs didn’t catch. It was a very rare occasion where something actually made its way to you prior to six in the morning and by then you were usually only on intake, passing it off to the day team before heading home. It was a nice little break from the chaos that the squad room and a courtroom normally were.

You spent the first few hours catching up on paperwork, finishing all the nearly late files, scrawling your signature across them before popping them into Cragen’s inbox. The squad slowly disappearing as late evening hit until only Olivia remained and you tossed a crumpled up piece of paper onto her desk, telling her to get out of there. You knew she liked to stick around as late as she could, not wanting anyone to really be trapped all alone in the building and she was quick to ask if you’d eaten dinner yet. You laughed, saying you had your breakfast before you came in and that she better get home to get some sleep. If she complained of being tired when you finally did have to call her in, you’d hold it against her. That finally got her going, giving you a warm smile as she wished you goodnight and finally left the precinct.

Once office lights began to flick off and the downstairs desk attendant clocked in things fell into a state of stillness, quiet and calm seeping through the air. Your paperwork was actually done, the most recent case you’d been working on waiting on the jury and you appeared to be free from actual work. So you started on the more mundane tasks, things that didn’t get done until you were on night shift. You started out by cleaning your desk, tossing out old receipts, crumpled up pastry bags, pencils that were so slivered down they couldn’t be used. Grabbing the collection of coffee mugs from the bull pen you headed into the break room, loading up the sink with hot soapy water to take care of the dishes in there. The cleaning crew usually came through around midnight, so you tackled the fridge, throwing out anything and everything that wasn’t labelled, had been in there for too long or seemed to be growing its own ecosystem.

After a very thorough hand wash, you wandered back to your desk, phone in your hand as you ordered some food for dinner, though maybe it was technically your lunch. Having no messages, calls or emails waiting, you pulled out your I-pad, sitting it on your desk as you settled back into your chair, pulling up your most recent binge. You were starting to get a little antsy twenty minutes in, your foot tapping against the floor over and over again. If it were day shift you’d usually caught a case or had to trek over to the DA’s office by now, but you were still just sitting there wishing you had an easier way to get your steps in. Your prayers were partially answered when the desk sergeant called up saying your food was there and you got to jog down the stairs to pay the driver before wandering back up them to your desk.

You ate a couple of slices, snagged a soda from the machine and set the box off to the side as you turned your attention back to the screen in front of you. The cleaning crew came and went, efficiently working through the space in no time, waving a friendly hello and then goodbye to you once they were finished. It wasn’t much later after that when you heard the shuffling of feet coming from the hallway and you glanced up, half expecting the desk clerk to be coming to take advantage of the vending machines. Your head tilted when instead you spotted Alex, loose leggings and a fuzzy sweater wrapped around her frame, hair messily tied back.

“Lex?” You greeted and her head lifted up, a small smile on her cheeks when she saw you. “What’re you doing here? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna have to go wake up a judge.”

“No.” She replied with a small huff, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple before pulling over a spare chair and dropping into it. “Tried your apartment first, neighbour said they saw you leaving for work late so I figured you were stuck on night shift.”

“And you thought I needed a babysitter?” You asked with a tease and she shook her head at you.

“Long day. I just wanted to make sure I got to see you at some point.” She yawned, her hands sneaking under her glasses to rub furiously at her eyes.

“You could’ve just called.”

She glanced up at you, a nervous look in her eyes as she chewed on her lip for a minute before letting out a breath, “I can’t sleep. Can I just stay here?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, reaching out to squeeze at her knee, “course you can. Did you at least try to sleep? Or were you still up on the couch pouring over case files?”

“I did.” She revealed with a sigh, “stared at the ceiling tossing and turning for almost four hours before I gave up. My brain just won’t shut up.”

“Did you take your meds?” You asked and she glanced up at you with a sheepish look on her face, softly shaking her head.

“I ran out on Monday; didn’t realize I was so low and I couldn’t get an appointment for a refill until next Tuesday. I took the anxiety one at eight and doctor’s orders say I can’t take melatonin with it, so I’m just kinda out of luck.”

“Shit.” You frowned, squeezing at her leg again, “next time we’ll make sure you always have an immediate refill on hand.”

“Thanks.” Her hand caught yours, squeezing it softly as she smiled across at you.

“You eat?”

“Wasn’t really hungry.” She shrugged, “had a granola bar.”

“How about you dig into this,” you tugged the pizza box from the other side of the desk, flipping it open in front of her and when the smell wafted over to she felt her stomach begin to grumble. “I’ll see what they have for tea in the break room.”

Leaving a kiss on the top of her head you left her to it, commenting for her to change the Netflix to whatever she wanted while you were gone. Digging through the break room you were pleasantly surprised to find a box of chamomile tea, turning on the kettle and brewing a mug exactly the way Alex liked it. When you crossed back into the bull pen she was curled up in the spare chair, your NYPD hoodie you normally stashed in the lower drawer of your desk draped over her lap as her hands played with the fraying cuffs.

A warm smile overtook your features as you placed the mug down in front of her, kissing her cheek again before reminding her to eat. With a tired sigh she finally leant forward, taking a slice of pizza, a pleased groan leaving her when she found it still warm.

She’d chosen one of your mutual favourite comfort movies, a classic rom com with no drama or terribly corny jokes set in the city you’d made your home. She ate her slice and sipped at her tea while she watched, relaxing into your side as she did so. You had to answer a couple of texts over the course of the hour but otherwise you were pleasantly occupied and comfortable. There were about five minutes left in the movie when she was fully slumped on your shoulder, you could feel her steady breathing and were certain her eyes had finally closed even if she wasn’t asleep yet. Your fingers poked gently at her side and she grumbled, flinching away from your touch without moving her head off your shoulder.

“Don’t. I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “lets get you to the crib, you can get some actual sleep.”

“Come with me?” She finally looked up at you with sapphire puppy dog eyes and a pout on her lips. You smiled softly, letting out a breath of a laugh.

“Okay, but only ‘til you fall asleep. I am on duty after all.”

“Fine.” She scowled, yawning, her eyes still drooping as she reluctantly stood from the chair, your hoodie still curled in her arms.

Alex shuffled away to the bunk room, letting herself in and leading you to the bunk burrowed in the corner. You grabbed a couple of extra pillows and blankets, making sure she was more than comfortable, tucked in and relaxed as she curled up on her side face you. Perched on the edge of the bed you smoothed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyes fell shut again, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you.” She murmured; her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Anytime baby.” You whispered back, fingers trailing across her cheek before you kissed her forehead.

By the time you’d sat upright she was out like a light, soft snores echoing through the small room and a small smile crept onto your lips. Pulling out your phone you quickly set an alarm so she would have enough time to get home and get dressed properly for the day before having to return to the DA’s office and quietly made your way from the room. You knew it wasn’t much, but it really was the little things, knowing that whenever Alex was fighting a bout of insomnia she found solace and relief in you, that no matter where you were, she would eventually be lulled into comfort and thus sleep as long as you were around.

________________________

@mickey-gomez @cabotfan42 @detective-giggles @red1culous @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @maximoffcarter @sapphicqueenofdonuts @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts

[notoriousaesthetics]

✧ ( 22. 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 ) ── // LINK a single muse google doc.

───  𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

this is a premium single muse google doc that's inspired by sci-fi esque data loading files, mr robot, halftone design, computer networks and glitches. the easiest way to adjust images is ensuring that you replace them! the drawing assets in the images are pretty easy to replace and change as well by double clicking, feel free to swap the colors of the decorations should you desire! this google doc layout also looks best on desktop! includes: 9 unique custom google doc templates + an additional instruction document that explains the terms of use & further guidelines. disclaimer: ✺ images do not belong to me and are credited to their rightful owners.

───  𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔𝒆.

PERMITTED

customizing the templates, including changing colors, adding or removing elements, replacing images, and more.

mixing and matching pages from other notoriousaesthetic only templates to personalize design.

NOT PERMITTED

removing or obscuring the credit; it must remain intact and visible on all templates.

using the templates in illegal, defamatory, or otherwise harmful projects.

copying, selling, or redistributing the templates, whether in their original form, partially (e.g., individual pages), or remixed (e.g., modified versions).

── ✧ THANK YOU!

please ▸ ( like/reblog) ◂ this if you found this useful and intend to use the google doc! for any further questions, please contact me via tumblr or join my discord for additional assistance!

[thaltro]

i repeatedly bang on the screen

master post about night watch when… each of the skeleguys asap please pleas

Haha sure I can give some lore for guy. Lore that isn’t super spoiler for the story.

Dr blue:

Doctor blue is a Swap Sans variant, specifically a handplates swap. He is 37 years old, lives in the omega timeline connected farmtale region. He escaped his timeline at a young age and was found by dream and ink, then placed into the new home foundation (essentially a orphanage) in the connected farmtale. Because he grew up in farm tale he picked up a southern accent. Blues special interest is robotics, his favourite robot being Wheatley from portal. He works in the bio mechanic unit in the hospital, their job is to work on robots and prosthetics for amputees. Dr blue is an amputee, his arm he designed himself! The blue line represents him and the orange is symbolic of his brother. Dr blue must eat all food in panini form, he will refuse to eat anything not panini. He is autistic and has Cptsd from his childhood. Dr blue has a odd relationship with dream, they are very close but have very fundamental disagreements. Dr blue takes care of Dreams child palette a lot. Dr blue sometimes works for mettaton entertainers as he does the stage tech. Hes a huge Mettaton fanboy and is apart of a super fan club that consists mostly of papyrus’s, he being the only sans.

Scell:

Scell is a fell variant, after escaping his timeline he was entered into the omega timeline database and ranked as a class 2 citizen. Scell is a chemist and makes all kinds of hazards for fun in his garage. He also loves cars, he is a huge car nerd and owns a car business with dr blue. Cars are a huge demand within fell culture because of the magic restriction laws for class 2 citizens, it’s an alternative to magic transportation. Scell has multiple golden teeth won by taking other fells teeth. The name “scell” is just Science Fell mashed into one, he was given to it by his peers when he worked as a chemist for the mafia fell faction. Scell is partially blind and should be using a cane but he claims his car is his mobility aid. He is also a nurse as it’s apart of his SAAR program. Most the time he’s delegated to work on stigmatized patients (corrupteds mostly) the main patient he interacts is Geno. He lives with Memory and they both have custody over their adopted kid Punk.

Memory:

Memory is an ex amalgamation recovered by Psychs reversion experiment. His origin is unknown but he seems to be a sans. Memory is physically disabled, most the time needing crutches, a walker, and sometimes a wheelchair. The save star on his face is their soul. Memory has the ability to save and load files of people. He also can upload people’s memories and view them herself. She is transfem and uses all pronouns, his housemate scell makes them not so legal estrogen in their garage. Memory has amnesia and can’t remember her own past. Memory is coded to have a human equivalent of Ehlers–Danlos syndrome and other Chronic pain conditions. Memory is a Class 1 citizen so most jobs don’t hire him, she could only find a job at a morally questionable clown themed pizza place owned by fresh sans. Memory’s SAAR program is working as an semi-Anchorite at the Creationist Church, he qualifies because of his medically proved “false Angel syndrome” status (which essentially means she experienced passive corruption) . Culturally that’s held as a sacred experience so memory is ideal for that position. Memory has a flat affect and likes cats. She loves her son punk and with aid of her finger splints makes him ugly sweaters.

Psych:

Psych is an sentient experiment done by the MedRune corporation. Psych produces medicine that can reverse any type of corruption. And with extreme cases of corruption it is trained to perform magical surgery. It’s not a sans, instead a biological mass found in the atomization void and was moved to the omega timeline. because of the people surrounding him in the lab, he took the form of a skeleton esc form. Psych lives in the storage room of the hospital. Psych is no longer friends with scell, blue, or memory. Psych is designed to have very fragile skin, if it’s slightly scratched or pressure is pushed it will bleed. Psych only has one outfit. Psych showers himself with rubbing alcohol, he drinks it too. Psych doesn’t eat even though he should. Psych is hooked up to a blood drawing machine for 6 hours of each day to produce anti corruption vials for the hospital. He’s gay,, I think. Mostly for guns.

Feels free to ask me more questions.. I really like,, getting nightwatch questions

[saphushia]

helpful (free) utility programs for artists

Allusion

reference image organizer. shows all the images in any folders you assign it to look in, and provides an easy interface for tagging and searching them. you can nest tags within each other, and when you apply a tag to an image it also applies all the parent tags. so if you tag 'tank top', and tank top is in the 'shirt' tag, it'll include that image when you search 'shirt'. also open source!

compatible with windows, mac, and linux

Pureref

reference image viewer. can create reference image collages, add notes, lock the window to stay on top, set the window to be partially transparent, and save 'scenes' so you can quickly pull up whatever character ref you need without searching for all your references images and re-adding them every time. supports loading images from file and copy-pasting from web.

compatible with windows, mac, and linux

WhatColor

color describer. shows you details about the color your mouse is over. it's designed for colorblind folks, and I mostly use it because I have strong color filters on my screen 90% of the time for health reasons. however it's also helpful when you're learning to dissect color palettes and are trying to see how the perception of a certain color is affected by the colors surrounding it. use it to see how often ur brain gets duped into seeing purple when it's actually blue

compatible with windows 7/8/10

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 6: Ghosts in the Machine

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

A flash of dull metal catches my eye in the corner of the room. It’s an old computer, long since corroded. The screen is cracked, the keyboard half-detached, and most of its components are fried, but there’s something wedged into the side—an old memory chip, still embedded in the port.

I hesitate for a moment before pulling it free. The casing is brittle, and I half expect it to crumble in my fingers. Somehow, it stays intact. I don’t have high hopes, but I slide the chip into my Hunter’s watch anyway. The device hums as it processes the data, flickering between corrupted strings of code. A small holographic display appears above my wrist, lines of text streaming too fast for me to catch.

Data corruption detected. Unable to fully recover contents. Processing partial retrieval...

The loading bar crawls forward, stalling, flickering, and then finally stabilizing. The chip contains a distorted audio file that appears, and I press play. 

At first, there’s nothing but static, hissing and popping like a broken transmission, but eventually, a voice crackles through.

“—progress remains stagnant. I had hoped for better results by now, but these things take time. Time we may not have.”

Dead air follows, dragging long enough that I think the recording is over until—

“The Evol subjects remain unpredictable. They manifest in ways we still cannot fully categorize. Standard classifications are becoming obsolete. Some variations are so rare they border on singularities. How do you account for something entirely unique?”

The static swallows the voice again, distorting it into an unrecognizable garble before it cuts back in.

“The human body was never meant to house these modifications. The integration—too volatile. Too many failures. And yet, the directive remains clear. We must succeed.”

Succeed in what? The recording doesn’t say. There’s more static, more silence before the log cuts out completely.

I frown. Evol subjects? Modifications? That sounds eerily similar to what some of the Fleet members were talking about before.

My mind spins with questions I can’t answer as I press on. The next door I find is heavier than the others—reinforced metal that groans when I push it open.

The lights spurt to life the moment I step inside. Unlike the rest of the facility, this room still has power.

Rows of monitors line the walls, their screens humming as they boot up one by one. Some display old system code, lines of text scrolling too fast to follow. Others flash distorted security footage, cycling through different angles of the concrete room I saw earlier—the one with the chairs and restraints. The cameras stutter, static swallowing the feed before they blink back on.

In the corner, something bigger comes online. A mainframe. The technology is old, clunky, and obsolete, but still, its lights flicker awake like eyes opening in the dark, small blinking indicators pulsing in sequence. 

A dashboard stretches across the central console, dozens of buttons flashing, some staying steadily lit. I brush debris away, revealing more controls beneath the dust and grime. 

The main screen in the centre flicks on at last, white text blinking against a black background:

VERIFY IDENTITY.

There’s no login prompt. No password field. No access codes. Nothing I can brute force. I chew my lip, considering my options. It’s a long shot, but maybe—

I lift my hand over the dashboard, focusing on the hum of the system. If I can attune myself to its wavelength, I might be able to overload it. As soon as I channel my Evol, the machine reacts.

The screen explodes with scrolling code, numbers, and sequences flashing too fast to comprehend. The entire system beeps, lights bursting in rapid succession. Then, a robotic voice resounds from the speakers:

“Backdoor mainframe access initiated. Scanning. Please wait. Running backup protocols.”

I jerk my hand back, my heart hammering. The computer continues processing, text scrolling faster. At last—

“Welcome back, A-01.”

I stare at the screen. A-01? That means nothing to me. But at the same time—it does. It feels familiar, though I have no idea why. The screen blinks, waiting for input.

I start testing commands. “What is this place?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

“Who built this facility?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

“What is Project A-01?”

“Sorry. Command not recognized.”

I try one more. “Bring up backup data logs.”

The system hesitates.

“Warning. Backup data severely corrupted. Partial files available. Displaying accessible entries.”

A list of audio logs appears. No dates. No timestamps. No identifying markers.

I select the first one. A voice filters through the speakers, and my blood runs cold. It’s Gran. She sounds younger, but I recognize her immediately.

“Dr. Josephine, lead experimental researcher on Project X-Aether.”

The log plays on.

At first, she sounds excited. She talks about breakthroughs. Progress. How they are on the precipice of the extraordinary. With each successive log, her tone shifts.

“We lost Subject 1 again today. Managed to revive them in time, but we can’t keep pushing this threshold indefinitely.”

“Subject 2’s aggression toward staff continues to escalate. We may need to increase reprogramming efforts.”

“Subject 2 withstands pain beyond projected limits. The threshold is… unnatural.”

“An unexpected development. Subjects 1 and 2 have bonded. No matter how many times Subject 2 is reprogrammed to hate Subject 1, it never seems to stick.”

“We pitted them against each other. Subject 2—who never accepts defeat—lost. Deliberately. Despite knowing the consequences.”

The final entry is a video log. It’s barely visible—static, distortion, the image warping in and out—but I can still see her.

She looks exhausted. Shadows under her eyes. Her voice is softer now, almost resigned.

“They were meant to be weapons. Fail-safes against each other. But we have created something else entirely.” She exhales a shaky breath, as if laughing—or maybe crying. “Together, they are the ultimate weapon.”

The video stutters, glitching into bursts of static as Gran suddenly rises from her desk. The movement knocks the camera askew, tilting the angle so that half the screen is swallowed in shadow. On the desk, half-obscured by a mess of scattered notes and old equipment, is a single framed picture. Two small figures stand frozen in time, but the distortion in the footage makes it impossible to make out any details.

My chest tightens as I take a slow step forward, then another. The glow of the monitor washes over my hands as I reach out, eyes narrowing in an attempt to sharpen the image. Just as I lean in, the screen cuts to black.

The robotic voice crackles to life, emotionless and cold.

“Remote access detected. Identity verification: denied. Data purge initiated. Self-destruction sequence engaged.”

My stomach plummets.

“No, no, no—override command!” My fingers fly across the panel, searching for anything I can use to stop it, but the system has already locked me out. The only thing responding is the damn robotic voice.

“Command revoked. All non-administrative access denied.”

Then, another voice buzzes over the speakers, low and full of restrained fury. “Whoever you are, you’ve made a grave error.”

“Caleb? Caleb, it’s me!” He doesn’t hear me. The alarm blares. A deafening wail that shakes the walls and drills straight into my skull. The countdown begins in the same monotone voice, far too calm for what it announces. 

“Please evacuate. Five minutes until self-destruct.”

The feed cuts.

Shit.

Adrenaline slams into me like a shockwave, and I’m already moving. My boots scrape against the debris as I whirl toward the door. Five minutes. Five minutes to get back up through all the wreckage, the collapsed hallways, the flooded passageways—

I push the thought down and run, throwing myself through the door, ignoring the sting of fresh scrapes as I squeeze through the narrow gap. My flashlight bounces wildly in my grip as I sprint down the hallway, my boots skidding on the slick floor. 

The metal stairs leading up are warped and rusted, but I take them two at a time, hands slamming against the railing to keep myself upright.

There is a shift above me—a groan of metal, the building crying out in its final death throes. I don’t have time to look up before part of the ceiling collapses, sending a cascade of debris crashing down. I hurl myself sideways, barely avoiding being crushed. Dust and rust clog my throat as I cough, blinking through the haze.

A jagged piece of rebar has torn into my sleeve, slicing through my forearm. I grit my teeth and yank free, hot blood trickling down to my wrist. 

No time. No time to stop.

I keep moving, crawling over fallen beams and shattered glass. The halls twist and turn, too many of them looking the same in the emergency lights. I nearly take a wrong turn before spotting a rusted sign pointing back toward the exit. My ankle twinges from an earlier misstep, but I push through the pain, forcing my legs to carry me faster.

The ground quakes beneath me, the facility’s foundations giving way. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The stairwell is up ahead, just beyond a room I hadn’t noticed before. The door is half-open, revealing a large diagram pinned to the far wall.

A human body. Strange, intricate markings cover the skin. I shouldn’t stop. I don’t have time, but my gut screams at me to grab it. I dart inside, snatching the fragile paper from the wall. My fingers smear blood across the edges, but I don’t let go. 

The sirens grow louder, the countdown reaching its final minute. A violent tremor rocks the ground, sending me sprawling. The main exit is ahead, but a chunk of ceiling drops between me and salvation. Smoke, dust, and fire rise in its place.

No way forward. No way back. 

Adrenaline drowns out reason. I spot an air vent, rusted but large enough. I throw myself at it, kicking at the grating until it gives way. The tunnel is narrow, my shoulders scraping against jagged edges, but I force myself through, dragging my body toward the faintest sliver of light ahead.

The final countdown echoes behind me.

Five. Four.

A wave of heat sears my back, the explosion catching up to me.

Three. Two.

I see the exit. A breath away.

One.

A cacophony of fire and destruction erupts behind me. The force propels me forward, sending me tumbling into the open, onto the cold, damp ground outside.

I lay there, chest heaving, pain screaming through every nerve. Smoke curls into the night sky, the ruins of the facility crumbling in on itself. The diagram crinkles in my grip as I shove it into my backpack. My fingers fumble with the zipper, slick with sweat, and the moment it’s secured, I push myself upright only for my ankle to buckle beneath me. 

Pain lances up my leg, sharp enough to drag a hiss from between my teeth. I slam a hand against the nearest tree, using it to keep myself steady. The smoke curling from the crater stings my eyes, reducing everything to shifting shadows and hazy light. 

Without the hatch as a landmark, I have no sense of direction. The stars should be visible, but the thick black haze chokes them out, leaving the sky an empty, suffocating void.

Grumbling under my breath, I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone. The cracked screen stares back at me, dark and useless. At some point during my escape, it must have taken a fatal hit.

“Great.”

I try my Hunter’s watch next, but the charge is too low to connect to a satellite. It lets out a weak, static-filled buzz before giving up entirely.

The smoke is sinking into my lungs, coating my throat with its acrid bite. I pick a direction at random, hoping I’ll come across something—one of the marked trees, a shift in the terrain, anything.

Limping forward, each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through my ankle. The ground is uneven, scattered with loose stones and fallen branches, and every misstep threatens to send me sprawling. 

I walk for what feels like forever with still no sign of the marked trees to orientate me or any other signs leading to my car.

A shiver prickles at the back of my neck. The hair on my arms stands on end, a static-like charge humming beneath my skin. The air shifts, wrong in a way that makes my stomach drop. The Metaflux comes before my watch can even bleat out a warning.

My fingers tighten around the straps of my backpack, and I listen. Somewhere in the dark, just beyond the reach of my flashlight, they materialize.

The underbrush rustles—a soft, unnatural sound, like something brushing against reality itself. Then another, from a different direction. The air distorts, carrying the scent of damp earth and something sickly sweet, something that makes my teeth itch.

I can’t see them yet, but I know they’re there, and there’s more than one. Heart hammering, I reach for my guns. The air is thick with that wrongness, the kind that makes my skin crawl and my instincts scream. I flick on my flashlight, sweeping it across the trees. 

The beam catches nothing but shifting shadows. Then, a shimmer in the dark, a distortion of space like heat warping the air. 

Lurkers.

Not the worst I could be dealing with, but not ideal—not with my ankle the way it is. Lurkers are fast, almost imperceptible when they move, their bodies blending into the environment like a mirage. They won’t stay hidden forever, though. Once they strike, they have to fully materialize.

I adjust my stance. If they’re going to attack, I need to make them do it on my terms. I flick my flashlight off, plunging the forest into near-total darkness.

Silence.

A heartbeat.

The first one lunges. I pivot, planting my good foot into the dirt, and fire twice the second I catch the shimmer of its form breaking into the physical plane. My bullets slam into its chest, the impact sending it reeling back with a sickening, gurgling shriek.

The second one is faster. I feel it before I see it—air shifting at my back. I twist at the last second, narrowly avoiding its claws as they slice through the space I just occupied. Pain flares in my ankle as I land hard, but I grit my teeth, ignoring it.

I whip my gun around and fire at point-blank range.

One. Two. Three shots.

The Lurker hisses, its form flickering erratically before it collapses, twitching, into the dirt. A blur of movement allows me to spot a third one. 

I drop low, just barely dodging as it rakes claws where my throat was a second ago. I roll, ignoring the way my ankle screams in protest, and come up on one knee. The moment I see the distortion break—I shoot.

With a snarl, it fully materializes—tall, emaciated, crystal-like skin stretched too tight over its bones, eyes like empty voids.

The air crackles around me, thick with the scent of burning ozone and charred metal. My chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, adrenaline roaring through my veins as I brace myself for the next attack.

It lunges. I twist, barely avoiding the serrated edge of the blade as I drive my fist into its ribs. Pain flares up my arm, but I don’t stop. Another comes at me from the left, and I duck.

A claw clamps around my wrist. My pulse jumps as an eerie shimmer distorts the air around us. The Wanderer snarls something incomprehensible, and then—

I fall.

No—

I am pulled.

The world stretches and twists, ribbons of colour bleeding into endless black. I try to move, to fight, but my body is weightless, unmoored from gravity itself. My breath catches in my throat. There’s no ground beneath me, no sky above. Just the boundless, infinite void.

A mirage of deep blues and shifting violets ripples around me, as if the universe itself is breathing. Stars glimmer in the distance, pulsing like dying embers. Long, shimmering bands of silver stretch out in all directions, weaving in and out of existence, never solid, never still. 

The vastness of it is suffocating—I have no control, no direction. I am a speck, adrift in an ocean of time and light.

Then I see a plane, floating just as aimlessly as I am. It’s impossible, and yet it’s there, suspended in the nothingness. The hull is scratched, the metal dull beneath the eerie glow of the void. 

I can’t see inside; the cockpit is fogged over, warning lights flickering in frantic bursts across the instrument panel.

My stomach twists. Someone is inside. I reach out instinctively. My fingers brush cold metal, and I grasp onto the wing, pulling myself closer. It’s harder than it should be—every movement feels sluggish, like I’m wading through thick, invisible currents. Hand over hand, I make my way toward the cockpit.

I press my face against the glass. At first, I see nothing but the ghostly reflection of the tunnel’s shifting light. Then, through the haze, I make out a slumped figure in the pilot’s seat.

Caleb.

His head is resting against the glass, his face partially obscured by shadows. His chest barely moves. Blood stains the fabric of his shirt, blooming darkly along the collar. I bang my fist against the glass, panic lancing through me.

“Caleb!”

No sound. My voice is swallowed by the void.

“Caleb, wake up!”

He doesn’t stir. I bang again, harder this time, my other hand still gripping the wing as if letting go will make this nightmare real. But is it real? Or just some cruel trick of the Metaflux? 

I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t watch him die. 

Not again.

Tears sting my eyes. I have to get out of here. I have to kill the Wanderer that dragged me into this abyss, but to do that, I have to leave him behind.

I can’t.

I won’t.

My fingers tighten against the cockpit’s edge, knuckles turning white. I stare at him, at the rise and fall of his breath—faint, too faint—and I make a choice.

I am getting him out of here. One way or another.

The Wanderer drifts in the void, its form shifting, tendrils of darkness curling and unfurling as if it can taste my fear. I need to lure it out—force it into a fight where I have a chance. But how do you fight when there is no ground, no up or down, no way to brace yourself?

“Come on,” I mutter. “Show yourself.”

The void around me pulses like a heartbeat, slow and methodical. Out of the vast nothing, a distortion ripples the space in front of me. The Wanderer shifts, coiling in and out of sight. 

I grab onto the plane’s wing, using it as leverage, twisting my body so I can face it head-on. It moves like liquid shadow, slipping in and out of my vision. I need it to come closer.

I slam my fist against the plane’s surface. The metal clangs, the sound instantly swallowed by the void, but the Wanderer notices. 

It writhes forward, tendrils reaching. I wait. Wait until it is just close enough—

Then I launch myself at it. The moment my fingers make contact with the inky mass, pain lances through my body. It burns, like frostbite and fire wrapped into one. 

My grip falters, but I grit my teeth and tighten my hold. The Wanderer writhes, its shifting form making it impossible to pin down. It lashes out, one of its tendrils cutting into my side, and I bite back a scream. 

I won’t let it win. 

With a snarl, I draw the knife strapped to my thigh and plunge it into the Wanderer’s core. It lets out a soundless scream, its body convulsing. I twist the blade, pushing deeper, and finally, the thing splinters apart like glass shattering in zero gravity.

Everything vanishes in an instant.

I’m on my back, staring up at a canopy of trees. My breathing is ragged, and the weight of reality slams into me. The forest is silent around me. No plane. No void. 

No Caleb.

I push myself up, wincing at the sharp sting in my side where the Wanderer cut me. The wound is still there. It was real, or real enough. I scan the area, but there’s no sign of what I just saw. 

With shaking hands, I make my way through the trees, my steps slow and shambling. The forest feels too still and too empty. I keep expecting the plane to be there, expecting Caleb to still be slumped in that cockpit, but there is nothing.

By the time I reach my car, my limbs are trembling. I slide into the driver’s seat and grip the wheel, trying to steady myself. My mind is a storm, circling the same thought over and over.

Caleb said he was in specialized training when he disappeared for months. I never questioned it. Never pushed him for details. But now… now I’m not so sure.

The dashboard interface lights up when I start my car, and I scroll through my contacts until I find Gideon’s name. 

The line rings once. Twice. Then a groggy voice picks up. “Inara?” Gideon sounds half-asleep. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Gideon.” My voice is tight. “Caleb’s training—when he disappeared for months. Was it real?”

There’s a pause. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Inara, come on. I don’t—”

“Gideon.” My patience is razor-thin. “Did he lie to me?”

Another pause. It stretches long enough that I know the answer before he even speaks. When he does, it’s careful, too measured. “Caleb… he did what he had to do.”

My stomach twists. “So it was a lie.”

“Inara—”

I end the call before he can say anything else. I grip the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My heart pounds in my chest. 

If Caleb lied about that… what else has he lied about?

Chapter Masterlist

Since Caleb's new Myth is out, I am once again wishing everyone good luck in their pulls. I know I need it. 🤣

Good luck everyone! 🍀🤞🏻

[rainbowolfe]

Bishop Relics II

Overview | Heket | Kallamar | Shamura | Narinder

Leshy

Up first, everyone's favored worm! (feat. the Icegore) To start, I think it's interesting that he has an eye-based relic when there's a special category dedicated to that; The Eyes of the Lost. His Relic is even formatted the same. "Eye of Leshy" instead of just "Leshy's Eye".

In the files, this ritual circle is labelled as the Demon Rune. This rune is marked by two swords. This thick-style of sword makes reference to Neptune's Curse (and Pilgrim).

The bottom-most layer is two X's side-by-side. This is a symbol you'll find on the Old Faith Rune in the top left corner. It's enclosed by a diamond. The Sacrifices here are "bombs". Circles with 'fuses' attached to them.

This rune has a few different variants to it, but they all relate to demon summoning. It's likely each one summons specific demons. The sword (cross with two bars) would suggest this one summons Hathor.

This could be very literal for the receiver, as Leshy does have two crosses shoved in him. But two daggers means an exchange is happening (a boon in exchange for a detriment), so two swords likely means something similar.

Perhaps it's the opposite of the Tarot Card. In exchange for one heart, Leshy received power. According to the Fox, 2 followers is equal to half a heart (aka a pound of flesh). So four Followers sacrificed totals to one heart.

As for the Source of this power... This ring of eyes is likely a reference to the Red Crown specifically. In the same way the corrupted relics all likely reference the Purple Crown.

Although the Bearer of the Red Crown (until recent events transpired), Narinder's color is actually white. Which is relevant because Leshy's Cleansed rune makes the eyes black and white instead.

So far, the only other relic I've encountered that uses a ring of red eyes is Beak of the Fowler, which instead uses what's labelled as the Familiar Rune. Cleansed or not, the aura surrounding the eye is red.

What's a Familiar? The eye relics. lmao. Did a full circle. (It's possible that Leshy, the Icegore, the Slythor, and the Fervant themselves are the familiars, and not just their eyes)

Onto what the Relic actually does...

It does damage. That's it. Just raw damage. The Icegore eye and the Slythor eye can both be tied back to blast curses—Divine Blizzard and Divine Blight respectively—based on their descriptions and what they specifically do. They knock back enemies and apply their specific effect, but they don't do melee damage on top of that.

It seems that Leshy's eye can also be tied to a curse. Two, actually. Divine Blast (damages and knocks back enemies), "A curse against those unworthy of your presence." The other would only apply to his Cleansed Relic, Divine Guardian. "Under the shadow of wings thou lie protected."

At least partially, because this is the only other curse that uses the word "damage". That sounds small, I know, but it works for too many items to be nothing.

I also think they're trying to connect Leshy to one of the Corrupted Relics, because they share an ability. Fang of the Starved, "Hunger that drives and consumes."

This relic also has the effect of obliterating the visuals long after it's been activated. Almost as if there's something wrong with your vision.

Maybe its not that the Starved is Leshy, but its who he off-loaded his detriment onto (as the Unholy Alliance relics suggest is an option).

In summary? Red is the color of Darkwood during the day, and Leshy also shares this aura color with the Fervant. These two are either related to or had a close relationship with a red-aligned Death God. Or they were literally a little pet that God kept around.

There were 3 or 4 of those. Big era for wrath, I guess.

Leshy was flammable. Leshy had a sort of invincibility. The difference between Fervour and Cleansing Flames is the presence of white and black. Before being cursed, Leshy would produce the latter. Cleansing flames would only burn certain people, hence them being unworthy of his presence.

Pure Fervour seems akin to fire, that's what's in Kudaai's forge after all. So cursed, Leshy would just burn... Everyone. He wouldn't be able to go near anyone without harming them. The effect might even harm him too, considering his bald patch. His uncleansed Relic is also bald.

As for the Fang of the Starved, the only references to dark blue are... the Don't Starve Together collab (the aura around the Moon/Mercury) and the vision Lamb has for the third card Clauneck draws in the launch trailer (its again the aura around the round object in the sky :eyesemoji: ).

Pestilence is dark blue of course, but the eye shape isn't right. At this time I don't really know what the colors on their own are meant to mean/point towards.

[mentalisttraceur-software]

Tonight, I've put the last finishing touch of functionality on my partial-save and partial-revert functions in Emacs: they now work over TRAMP.

And in particular, they work locally on files remotely accessed over TRAMP. That is to say, the temporary files/directories get created locally, and the "git" CLI and my "gp" wrapper script run on my device where I'm running Emacs.

So if I use TRAMP to open a file on some server/router/whatever, even if I'm accessing that box for the first time without any opportunity to install Git or my scripts on it, my partial save and revert will "just work". (A lesser benefit is that I don't have to worry about the security of temporary files on the remote.)

(The actual change to do this was trivial. My diff-unsaved-changes function, which also uses the "git" CLI to provide a diff, has worked over TRAMP like this for months, and the pattern only needed to change slightly for partial save and revert. This isn't an impressive feat - it's just a happy conclusion to a 3-4 day story.)

[ariaste]

So Yield Under Great Persuasion made me cry... Multiple times. It came at a cathartic time in my life. But I'm also VERY interested in the pantheon and wanted to ask about it! Specifically I noticed that there are "hours" for many of the gods, but do Talesyn and Mategat have hours?

Any other fun things you'd like to share about these gods are greatly appreciated too :D

Aw, thanks so much, glad you enjoyed it! (SIde note but if you'd like to talk to other folks about the book, there are loads of YIELD UNDER GREAT PERSUASION fans in the official fandom discord server! Also, there are two other novellas in the same setting as Yield: Some by Virtue Fall, and The Lights of Ystrac's Wood!)

Anyway, to answer your question --

Yes, all the gods have hours of the day. Talesyn's hours are around high noon/midday, and Mategat's are around dawn.

Here's the full list of the gods of Avaris (under a cut in case anybody doesn't want to see worldbuilding spoilers)

Brassu – eldest of the seven sibling gods, god of kings, trade, bargains, gifts and generosity, law, war

Angarat – goddess of love/marriage/family, parents and children, animal husbandry (especially cows, pigs, and sheep), the harvest

Ystrac – god of the woods, the hunt, horses, the Wilds, chaos, Panic fear

Mategat – artisans (particularly weavers), fate, time, truth, skill and dexterity, mathematics

Talesyn – (Clevertongue, Silverthroat, Lord of Players) god of fire, bards/poets/players, music, oratory, scholarship, history, writing, inspiration, soothsayers, light

Nevainyë – goddess of the heavens, the sea, sailors/fishermen, weather, dreams, death, darkness

Idunet – (Lord of Temptation, Dream-plucker, Seductor of the World) god of wine, sex, passion, temptation, magic, gambling, greed, “be careful what you wish for”

Note that this is messy from my notes file, so this is only a partial list of their jurisdictions and some of them don't have titles right now simply because I haven't thought of them yet. :)

[seijitheclown]

DGM 253.5 - More Theories.

Here I am once again with more theories, some confirmations (kinda) for some I had in the past. Refer to older posts here and here.

Also again I do honor Hoshino's wish not to post panels from the current chapter shortly after release. I will use some older chapters to refer to them here as well.

This is what I want to address this time:

Allen's hair color

The time Allen awakes from the Orb

'Extra' Placement

Past!Lavi being attached to the Clan

Who is interested in killing a Bookman?

My view of the "Fusion"

To avoid confusion I will refer to past!Lavi as 'Junior' and the current one as 'Lavi'.

Allen's Hair color

So we had this theory before but I think it's more confirmed in Ch 253.5 that Allen's hair color indeed is now Junior's color. And I assume it's partially due the stress but mainly because Junior protected Allen due the incident with Akuma!Mana. Similar to Timothy as he first fully invoked his Innocence Allen's special connection to Innocence awakened (in before it was Apocryphos activating it, however he was able to it as the Innocence didn't listen to him during the 'Orb' time). I will come back to this point later.

Lavi's injury & Allen's awakening

We know Lavi was born 1 year after Allen & Junior fused, 7 years after this Lavi got shot (you can tell he's around that age in Ch 253.5). 11 years later he meets Allen for the first time. So the time Lavi got shot marks the time Junior got active outside the Orb again, means his spirit was able to move through the Helix of Life aka Allen must have exited the Orb at exactly that time or shortly before for Junior be able to move freely.

The Placement of the Extra-Chapter

This leads to why Hoshino placed this little Extra chapter (which she confirmed to be solve fully later on) at this point of the story. This is fully intentional as it's the bridge between the time Allen & Junior fused and the next chapter most likely going on with what happened after they exited the Orb (or going back to the current events but I kinda doubt that as we need that puzzle piece).

Past!Lavi/Junior and his attachment to the Clan

So we have a peek onto small Lavi's Bookman cloth in this chapter (also Bookman's in the Clear File Illustration above), and what do we see? The same collar and style as Junior wears until the end. So it's confirmed Junior wears his Clan outfit until the end.

He also reappears as Lavi gets shot, the connection that is implied through their right eye. We still haven't see the Bookman 'mark', Junior's got covered/removed by the scar, Lavi wears an eyepatch, Bookman uses make up.

But even with that Junior said he is no longer a Bookman, he is still emotionally attached to the Clan. My guess is that's why the current members of the Clan are so emotionally loaded (for Bookmen) in regards of their missing member.

Especially Lucia is pretty much pissed off. And she is the first one mentioning the silver hair, so Junior's hair was special even among them. And it's most likely the reason why he never picked a name for himself and stuck with Allen calling him Lavi.

Who is interested in killing a Bookman?

Another point is, Hoshino confirmed that Lavi didn't get shot by a "stray" bullet someone wanted to kill him. Someone wanted to ... have a reaction from the death of a Bookman (or his Junior).

I don't think it's that far fetched that Apocryphos tried to trigger something here. He is known for manipulating people into action by messing with their memories.

Maybe, after all the years, he was trying to trigger the Innocence Orb to burst. He was following around Allen and Junior for quite some time, and I think he is pretty much aware Junior was a Bookman. (He followed Allen and manipulated a whole circus to hate him to drive him to the point of destroying Mana, so, it's possible). As he knew the previous Noah family very well he surely met them.

As we don't know if Allen had any relatives at this point of the story it's most likely that he aimed to finally get onto the Host somehow so his options over the years ran out and he decided maybe to go this route.

It's either him or some other instance we don't know yet, the Noah at this point wouldn't just shoot a Bookman, especially with the fact they had 'sided' with the Noah back then. Bookmen are a neutral stance, there is no reason to shot one, especially a child.

My point of view/theory

I think Junior still actively protects Allen from within. I don't think they fused to a new person or that Allen will be wiped by that fact. (I have seen people ranting about Allen being degraded to being a Nea/Junior). Junior is like a guardian angel, ... i am still very found of the theory that he's the spirit within Crown Clown, with the knowledge he still can visit someone from his clan (heck how?) he was most likely also the force that helped Allen to survive Tyki's Attack and the force that kept the Innocence around Allen for Foh to find him, the force that helped against the Level 3.

Allen has changed over the years of course, as we all do. We all are a mash up of people we once knew mixed with our past self. Allen from the begin of the series doesn't exist anymore, just like us, the Readers, have changed since the series started.

[blackthornwren]

Some of us will never forget that the burning times were once memorialized in retina-burning fonts; surrounded by violet spinning pentacles on the backdrop of a starry, twinkling night sky. Somewhere in the distance, a partially loaded midi file attempted to play "how soon is now" while the cursor trailed glittering sparkles across the majestic sky-screen...

[nostalgebraist]

Tumblr on desktop has been extremely slow to load for me, for the past 1-2 weeks maybe.

It's like, a partial version of the page loads, which has most of the content in place but lacks (1) images and videos inside posts and (2) anything related to notes or activity. The notes button is missing from the bottom-left of each post, and the Activity button on the sidebar does nothing.

It sits there like this 10 or 20 seconds, images/videos slowly trickle in, and then suddenly the page "refreshes" in some way (e.g. if I'm on the dash, I am suddenly scrolled all the way to the top) and now contains all the expected stuff.

I've filed a support ticket, just posting out of curiosity if anyone else is experiencing this.

[flaeshprintpilotm-0826]

... Recalling Memory file no.****621-0 ...

Loading...

Beginning log translation.

{Location: planet record-1029.B, registered shortly after initializing House of Wind contract period.}

{Ecology: minimal native flora/fauna due to high levels of ambient radiation.} {Atmosphere contains hazardous particles which must be purged regularly via wash-cycles.}

{Routine maintenance period, currently idling within a dilapidated warehouse with retrofitted garage.}

{Morgan lies partially prone across the length of several equipment containers, listening to digital music as it blares from their integrated sound system.}

<... Hm? Marigold, why is it quiet?>

///Morgan.\\\

///You have not yet explained your decision regarding the name of our frame.\\\

///Please elaborate.\\\

<Oh! Well, I thought you'd've made an Omninet query by now...>

<Uhm, sure, I'll tell you.>

<"Devilish Bodhisattva" was inspired by a story, about a monkey.>

<This monkey met someone called the Buddha, who both humbled and elevated him into infinity.>

<Other beings have also ascended to the Buddha's heights, but very few have done so.>

<I just think we could, too.>

///Fascinating.\\\

///I will download more information related to these subjects.\\\

<... I hope that's a good thing.>