#someday i'll be able to be brief.... ^^;

[mymomsaiditwasaphase]

He's like a husband I hate to me

[fallenprophets]

I will never let you go

robert "bob" reynolds x reader

can be read as a part 3 to a house in nebraska (part 1) and told you I'll be waiting/hiding from the rainfall (part 2)

summary: usually, he's the one having nightmares, waking you in the middle of the night with heavy breathing and anxious twitching. but this time is different. this time, you're the one plagued with memories. no use of y/n, gender neutral as always, still not proofread. no spoilers

warnings: swearing, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of a bad childhood, very brief mention of suicide?

a/n: WOAH back already? i know, it's insane. hope y'all enjoy this. i want to thank beyonce for inventing music so that i could listen to ethel cain while writing this. also thank you to my own experience with Feelings- who knew my ptsd would come in handy someday

He has nightmares often. 

Since the first night, he’s been living with me; won’t let me sleep on the couch or anything, insists that I stay with him. And who am I to deny those soft eyes, his grip on my waist or on my wrist a little too tight? 

So every night, I sleep next to him, even though the bed is almost too small. 

And almost every night, he has these nightmares. 

The first time, I thought someone had broken in. I was woken by strange sounds, and found him gone; so I pushed out of bed, tiptoed into the kitchen with the revolver I keep in the drawer next to my bed. Upon seeing him, though, I realised I was mistaken. 

It was only Bob, standing completely still in the middle of the room. His breathing was uneven; the only movement I could discern was the light rise and fall of his shoulders. 

He whirled around, eyes blown wide open and frightened. In an instant, I had dropped the revolver on the kitchen counter and almost run to him, catching him half-way as he stumbled into me. And we stayed like that, his arms so tight around me. 

He never remembers the nightmares- either that, or he’s lying to me. And I like to think that I can tell when he’s telling the truth, so I choose to believe him. All he recalls is a dark, empty, frightening feeling. Says that when he wakes up, he thinks everything is gone. Sometimes, I hear him mumble- something about a void.

But I don’t press, because I’m just happy to have him back by my side; in due time, he’ll talk to me, tell me exactly what happened between his disappearance in Malaysia and now. 

I’ve become a light sleeper, to say the least. 

But tonight, he’s not the one having the nightmare. 

Ever since the incident with the void, I’ve felt… strange. Like reliving those memories fucked me up somehow, took the box I’d created in my brain so carefully for my past and opened it. Tossed the contents all over the place, left me to pick them up with shaking hands. 

So, maybe Bob isn’t the only one having nightmares. 

Only this one is bad. It’s not like the others, which I have been able to push down, pretend that those aren’t my memories mixing with my imagination replaying freely when I sleep. This one is claustrophobic, and dark, and frightening- like something awful is reaching long fingers down my throat, clogging my veins, choking me slowly. 

I can’t claw my way out this time. Can’t kick and punch and scream- can’t even get high to pretend the walls aren’t closing in on me. 

I’m in the dream for what feels like years. The details are fuzzy around the edges, but one thing is crystal-clear: the feeling that something is missing. That I’ve lost something, somehow, and that I’m not getting it back. That I won’t even know what it is that’s gone until years later, when it’ll hit me and I’ll keel over and just- just die, and no one will notice. 

I’m still half in it when I wake up. 

I sit up all at once, gasping and choking, immediately reaching my fingers into my mouth to pull that suffocating darkness out, before it can fasten onto my lungs, where it’ll fester and rot and eventually, hopefully, kill me. The blinding panic that consumes me is overwhelmingly familiar; wrenches back memories of being a child all alone, of leaving home, of losing Bob. And the emptiness in my chest- that gaping hole of missing memories and a stolen childhood, of those few months before I checked myself into rehab when I was just drifting, barely alive.

I’m so scared, and for less than a second, I’m the only person on earth, about to be consumed and- and forgotten. 

Within moments, though, fingers wrap around my wrist, pull my hand away from my mouth. I lean over the edge of the bed, heaving and coughing and spluttering as terrified sobs tear through me, making my chest and throat burn. His hand is on my back, the other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against his chest. 

He begins to rock me backwards and forwards as I grab onto his arm, digging my nails in. In the back of my mind, I hope it doesn’t hurt. 

My heart races, jumping like a rabbit trapped in my ribcage. I’m still breathing heavily, but his thumb begins to draw circles between my shoulder blades. He holds both of my wrists down in one hand, like he’s worried I’ll try to claw my throat open if he lets go. The pressure is reassuring, so I don’t move to push him away. 

Eventually, I turn my head slightly. He nudges forward, his nose pressing into my cheek. I lean into him, try to breathe in his presence. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of my mouth once the weight has somewhat lifted itself off my windpipes. My voice still wavers pathetically, and I clear my throat, shutting my eyes against the tears that threaten to spill. “Didn’t- didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Hey.” His voice is so soft; the tears come all at once again, following the tear tracks already made only minutes ago. “Don’t apologise- hey.” 

His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb swiping away at the tears. He’s never been fantastic at comfort- remember when I’d have my freak outs while we were both high, he’d just squeeze my hand really tight, maybe kiss my shoulder or my neck for good measure. But now, as I feel his nose lightly graze my shoulder, the familiarity of it all is crushing. Seeking more of it, I tug my shirt down, expose the skin underneath to the cold of my room. He presses a soft, gentle kiss there, at the junction between my shoulder and my neck. There’s nothing sexual about it. We’ve never been like that- crumbling in moments of weakness, taking advantage of too many feelings at once. I think it’s why we were so good as a pair, in a way. 

Slowly, kindly, he moves up, pressing soft kisses up my neck, until he reaches my jawline. My face is still wet with tears; my skin probably tastes salty with it. I wonder if he notices. He must, because once again he brushes his thumb across my cheek, light and quick, a repeated motion. 

“Nightmare?” He asks finally, so quiet. I only nod. I can hardly remember the dream- just the aching sadness, the crushing hopelessness as I drowned. 

“I’ll be okay,” I say. My voice still shakes; I swipe at my face with the back of my hand as my lower lip starts to quiver again. 

His chin rests on my shoulder, and he draws me close. Neither of us are very good with words, and we’re used to silence; so I shuffle closer, turn my head so our noses bump. 

“Thank you,” I whisper finally. He smiles. It’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen, and once again, I am overwhelmed with the warmth of having him back in my life. I reach up and push his hair away from his face, trace his features with my fingertip. My heart still hammers in my chest, and I know that eventually, I’ll have to deal with the feelings, the stifling fear and sorrow of the nightmares I’ve been having. But for now, I’m with him, and I think that’s enough. 

I close the distance and kiss him again, letting my eyes flutter shut. 

This is the second time we’ve kissed. First time was his first night here, and we haven’t talked about it. But I don’t think he regrets it, because within half a second, he’s kissing me back, hand at the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. I tangle my fingers in his hair, tilting my head back ever so slightly. He’s kissing my neck, too, gentle, comforting; carefully moving the hem of my shirt out of the way again as he presses his mouth to my shoulder, then to my collarbone, right above my unevenly beating heart. 

He rests his forehead there, like he’s listening to my pulse thunder on. I let him, resting my chin on the top of his head. 

“I missed you,” I say softly, finally. “Think- think that’s maybe what the nightmare was about. Wanting you back. Like my brain hasn’t registered you’re here.” 

His grip on me tightens. 

“I love you,” he murmurs finally- quiet, vulnerable, maybe a little pathetic. 

“I love you too,” I answer, and it’s true- has been true for years. Maybe even from the moment I met him, I knew, somehow- I was stuck with him, and that really wasn’t so bad. 

I kiss his forehead, breathe in the warmth of him. “I’ll never let you go, y’know that?” I mumble. He nods- can feel it, before he shifts to rest his head on my shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to the crook of my neck. 

taglist - @foreverchangingmind

[terresdebrume]

This assaulted me as I woke up, and I'm carefully keeping it to make sure I'll be able to use it for I'm down on my knees someday ^^

"Could we," Edwin starts, but cuts himself off.

It feels so fragile, this moment. He and Charles in the same bed, side by side, Charles' head tucked against in shoulder... And between them, the promise that Charles will still be there when Edwin wakes in the morning. It feels so fragile. Like a dream, in those brief moments where the mind is both dreaming and aware that it dreams. Edwin never could hang onto his dreams half as long as he wanted, and the prospect of this one slipping between his fingers terrifies him.

"Could we what?" Charles asks eventually, his voice quiet in the dark.

He sounds... Tender, yet nervous, and when he hooks one of his fingers around Edwin's the gesture feels tentative, like he's still not sure he's allowed. Oh, how Edwin loves him.

"Could we... Spoon?"

Charles chuckles, soft against Edwin's shoulder. He pushes himself on his elbow as Edwin does, and Edwin sees the darker outline his arm reach for his waist.

"Oh," he say, catching Charles' wrist as delicately as he can, "no, I meant—"

He doesn't dare say the rest, half afraid to wake himself up if he speaks too much. Instead, he gives Charles' chest a gentle push, first met with resistance and then the sort of tension born of incertitude. Gently, so gently, Edwin coaxes Charles to lay on his left side, head resting on his arm as Edwin slowly slides down to mold himself to Charles' back, curling his legs up until he can tangle them with Charles' own.

Charles has always been on the leaner side, elegant and gangly in turns, but solid also. Strong in ways even Edwin's wider, stockier frame doesn't manage. Tonight, as Edwin settles behind him, he feels delicate in a way he's never felt before. Edwin loops an arm around his chest and feels it move under his hand, oddly bird-like and so, so regular.

"Is this alright?" Edwin whispers, barely daring to rest the full weight of his arm over Charles.

"Mhm."

Charles' breathing continues in the same slow, one-two-three-four rhythm. He still feels so fragile, here in Edwin's arms, like a figure of spun sugar. Edwin, unsure what to make of that, makes himself ask:

"Charles, are you—"

"I'm fine," Charles cuts in even as the up and down of his ribs speeds up. Deepens.

"Charles..."

"It's fine," Charles says, strangled with the urgency of someone trying to speak before emotion overtakes them. "Just don't. Don't make me talk."

"Oh, Charles," Edwin sighs, finally bringing his arm down to pull Charles to his chest and hold him closer. "I love you."

A harsh sob erupts from Charles' throat, deep enough to shake his entire frame, fast enough that he can't prevent the sound from echoing around his bedroom. Edwin presses a kiss to the back of his neck, and Charles sobs again, right arm coming up to lay on Edwin's, his hand gripping Edwin's hand so tight it feels like it'll bruise.

Edwin kisses the back of Charles' neck again, kisses the top of his shoulder, kisses the joint where the delicate lines of Charles' new tattoo are still fresh enough for Edwin to feel them with his lips.

Charles Rowland once jumped into a pool to save a teenager he didn't know, even though he knew it could cost him his life. He laughed in the face of bullies, and he built a life for himself after his father destroyed the one he should have had at home. He faced years of prejudice beaten into him, just for the sake of not hurting Edwin more than he had to.

The least Edwin can do, now that he is finally allowed to, is tighten his arm around Charles and guard his heart as best as he can. Guard the knowledge that, when Charles finally lets himself fall apart, it is because he is undone by love.

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: descriptions of grief and brief references to suicide.

----------------------------------------------------------

“I will shield you from the waves. If they find you, I will protect you.”

     She stared him down, her daggers held protectively in front of her. She didn't know who this ‘Red Hood’ hooligan was and she didn't care. All she cared about was defending her city to her very last breath, just like her precious Jason had done. She didn't think she'd survive when he'd been stolen from her - her best friend, her confidante, her soulmate - but then she'd vowed to make The Joker pay for what he'd done. She would stay alive, she'd promised Jason over his grave, if only to make sure that The Joker would suffer for as long and as hard as she had to. 

     “Looks like the little birdie chose the wrong night to walk the streets alone,” one of the Hood’s goons chuckled, loading his gun and taking aim at her. “You should- Ahh!”

     The man yelled in surprise when a bullet grazed the edge of his hand, knocking his weapon to the ground. He turned to the Hood, who kept his gun trained on the man even as his gaze remained fixed on the doomed vigilante standing before them. “What the-”

     “You will not … touch her,” the Hood warned them, his disguised voice firm and unflinching as he gave the command. He turned to the man, his features concealed entirely by the darkened visor of his helmet, and the man stepped back in line. 

     Jason tucked his gun back in its holster and turned back to his best friend, the one neither death nor torture had ever been able to erase from his heart. She looked … so much the same that it physically hurt. The same dark curls, the same full lips, the same soft cheeks … He took a step closer to her, his fingers aching with the need to reach out and touch her; to pull her to him and find out if she still smelled of lavenders, if she still felt as soft as his favourite pillow, if the feeling of holding her in his arms still loosened the tightness in his stomach and the knot in his chest. But she kept her daggers held up in front of her, that determined expression remaining on her face even as she had to crane her neck back to hold his gaze. Jason's breath hitched in his throat at the revelation of how much smaller than him she was now, and he held a hand back to his henchmen, waving them away. They shuffled around in confusion, unsure what to do, so he twisted around to yell at them. “Go! I'll deal with this.”

     Her eyes flickered briefly over to the disappearing goons, just as bewildered as she was, then she returned her gaze to the Red Hood. He stared at her, waiting until everyone had left; until it was just the two of them, alone on a dimly lit street in the middle of a Gotham at war. Then he raised his fists and got into a fighting stance. 

     She didn't know how long they'd been fighting for, but her frustration had continued to grow with every movement he made - his dodges, his blocks, the way he somehow anticipated her every move and caught her fist or ankle before she could hit him. It was just like Jason. Her Jason. Her best friend, who'd trained with her every day until they could practically read each other's minds. Her soulmate, whose death had shattered her into pieces, leaving her incomplete and unable to ever be fixed. She screamed at this wicked stranger, who didn't deserve to remind her of her precious Jason and hit him harder, pummelling him until her arms were numb and her throat was raw and she could barely stand anymore. And still, he never hit her back. 

     “Just kill me already!” she sobbed, falling to her knees before him. “I can't do this anymore! I can't- … I can't do this without you, Jay, I'm sorry …”

     Jason froze, feeling like someone had shot a cannonball through his chest and ripped his heart out. How long had it been since he'd heard her voice? He'd remembered the sound of it, enough for it to fill his dreams every night since he'd been forced back to life, but … he'd never heard it sound so … raw. So tired and so full of pain. He doubled over and sucked in a breath, desperately trying to pull some air back into his drowning lungs. Then finally, his heart relaxed and his breathing slowed. Jason inhaled deeply, then hesitantly crouched down beside his best friend.

     He wasn't sure if she would scream at him again or recoil away from him in disgust, so he reached out her with his fingers first, carefully stretching them in her direction. X didn't react, too deep in her own anguish to notice that he hadn't left - that he was still there, still waiting patiently by her side - so, Jason wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her to him. A wave of relief flooded his chest as his best friend collapsed against him, her body shuddering with pained sobs. Jason lay his head on hers, breathing in the same lavender scent that had never failed to soothe the pounding of his heart, and held her securely while she cried. He didn't know how long they stayed like that - a minute? An hour? An eternity? - but it still felt much too soon when she finally gasped and wrenched herself away from him. Jason looked up with parted lips as X shot to her feet, her movements so sudden that he almost didn’t register the hateful glare she fixed him with - almost. 

     “Get away from me!” she screeched. Then, before he could even begin to rise to his feet, she was gone, disappearing into the night.

“Write our names in the wet concrete.” 

     He wasn’t sure where she might have gone, but after wandering Gotham for a bit, Jason found himself by the now abandoned orphanage his best friend used to live in before he’d convinced Bruce to adopt her too. He crossed the grounds behind the building, making his way to the overgrown tree at the end, and stopped when he reached it. 

     ‘There!’ X had declared, stepping back and admiring her handiwork. ‘It’s perfect!’ 

     Jason had tilted his head, studying the words she’d so painstakingly carved into the bark. ‘You’re getting really good with those knives.’

     X had grinned at his praise and tucked her shiny new daggers back into their pockets on either side of her belt. Bruce had allowed them to go on patrol by themselves while he’d dealt with one of his usual villains and they’d ended up at the orphanage by an old oak tree X had used to play under when she'd lived there.

     ‘Are you kids done?’ Jason and X had turned around in surprise, caught off guard by Bruce’s sudden appearance. They’d quickly clasped their hands behind their backs and shot Bruce equally guilty smiles. But though his eyes had flickered to the words they’d carved into the front of the tree, he'd said nothing about their vandalism and instead, gestured for them to start heading home. 

     Jason reached up and traced his fingers across the carving: Robin x Nightingale. A challenge to the world, a promise to one another … a vow he'd failed to keep. Suddenly, he felt a blade pressing against the side of his throat. “Don’t you dare lay your fingers on that.” 

     Jason inhaled a shaky breath and raised his hands in the air, letting her know that he wasn’t about to hurt her. X loosened her grip slightly and Jason took it as a sign to turn around. He waited patiently as her eyes roved over his darkened visor, desperately searching for any hint of his features, and stole the opportunity to study hers in turn. She looked … angry. The same kind of angry he’d spent months - years - letting fuel his training while he’d been in the League of Assassins. The same kind of angry that festered within him during every waking moment, devouring everything in its path until there was nothing left inside of him but the anger, the anger, the anger. So, he offered her the only thing he had. “If you need to fight-”

     “I don’t want to fight!” X screamed, lowering her hand back to her side. “I’m sick and tired of fighting all the time!” 

     She threw her knife into the ground, burying the blade in the soil, and took a few steps away from him. “Why do all you men want to fight so badly?! Just leave me the hell alone or help me die in peace.” 

    She sank to the ground and pulled her knees into her chest, curling up into herself in the same way she’d always done as a child. Jason’s heart squeezed at the sight - at her words, so despondent and defeated - and lowered himself to the ground too. X kept her head tucked into her chest as they sat in silence and Jason took advantage of her lowered gaze to study the rest of her, meticulously taking notes on all the parts of his best friend that were the same and all the parts that had changed. Eventually, when the silence had stretched on long enough that he worried she’d forgotten that he was even there, Jason dropped his gaze to the ground and began tracing circles in the dirt. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he gathered up the courage to speak … Then finally, he forced the words out. “I still think ‘Dove’ suits you better.” 

     The world stopped moving and she could swear her heart shot up into her throat at his words. X looked up at the Red Hood, stunned by his knowledge of the familiar nickname - the one only one person in the entire world had ever called her by … but it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be; every rational part of her told her that it couldn’t be her Jason … and yet, her heart continued to pound against her ribs with hope. She didn’t breathe as the Hood got to his feet and slowly removed his helmet, revealing to her dark and slightly overgrown hair with an unfamiliar white streak running through the fringe. It felt like another age passed before he finally looked up at her, fixing her with the same moss-green eyes that had haunted her dreams since she’d seen the light drain out of them on the floor at that warehouse, all those years ago. She sucked in a breath as her eyes sprinted desperately across his features, matching all the now faded scars with the wounds she’d remembered carefully cleaning on her precious Jason’s unmoving face: a strip through his right eyebrow, a nick on the left side of his cupid’s bow, a slice along the right underside of his jaw … He looked a little older now, a little more battered and a little more angry, but still … her Jason. 

     She shot to her feet and covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Jason gazed at her with a sorry expression - silently apologising for not having told her earlier - but she still didn’t seem to believe that it really was him. 

     “How dare you!” she screamed, furious at this stranger who had stolen the face of her sweet and precious little Jason. “What the hell do you …?! How can you …?!”

     She took a step towards him with each unfinished sentence, until she was standing close enough to raise her hand in the air and pull it back in preparation. But the stranger caught her wrist before the slap could land on his face, his gaze fixed entirely on hers. 

     “It’s me, X,” he whispered, his voice low and deep and unfamiliar. She gasped at the sound of her name in his new voice - the name no one outside the Batfamily would know to call the vigilante Nightingale by - then she ripped her mask off and tossed it aside, wanting a closer look at him, needing to believe that it really was her Jason. 

     Another sob fell from her lips as she crumpled against him and Jason released her wrist to slide his arms around her. X cupped his face in her hands, her smooth skin catching on the rough bumps of his stubble as she brushed her fingers along the now sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

     “How?” she whispered, the tears dripping down her cheeks as her eyes flickered back up to the one part of him that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Jason clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on her waist. 

     “Ra’s …” he began, cutting himself off when the name curled around his heart and squeezed. He glanced to the side, unable to look at his best friend’s sweet face as memories of all the torture he’d had to endure at the hands of that monster raced through his mind. “... brought me back.”

     X pulled his gaze back to hers, her touch gentle but firm. And suddenly - for what felt like the first time since he'd been reborn - Jason Todd could breathe again. 

     He watched in silence as she glided her hands along his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’d grown so much since she’d last seen him, so much so that she hadn’t even been able to recognise him when he’d been standing right in front of her! But his heart still beat to the same rhythm and his eyes still lit up the same way whenever she met them and his scent still smelled of mint and freshly-watered grass. She whimpered softly, finally allowing herself to believe that he was real - he was real and he was there, right in front of her! - and Jason circled his arms completely around her.      

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body so tightly against his that he could feel her heart beating through her chest and against his. Jason pressed his lips into her hair and hugged her back just as firmly, vowing to himself to never let her go again - because nothing, he knew, would ever feel as right as this moment here, holding his best friend in his arms; the only person who had ever loved him as fiercely as he, too, had always loved her.

Tags: @stormz369

[rivereverie]

Post-game rambles

So I finally finished my first playthrough of BG3. Here are some of my brief, post-game-emotion-addled thoughts on it. (Alternate title: The existence of Astarion has forever altered my brain chemistry I will never be able to adequately express my feelings about him)

I had spent a year dying to get this game before I ever played it, because I had heard such good things, and honestly it surpassed my expectations in every way. I can tell this is one of those pieces of art that will remain firmly implanted in my heart probably forever. I could go on for days about everything I love about this game, but I think there are also some things I could never put into words if I tried.

In particular, Astarion and his storyline really just completely and profoundly captivated me in a way I don't know how to express. It's very rare that a character consumes my heart and mind this much, but his story and character is beyond beautiful and will always be incredibly special to me. Not to say I don't absolutely adore the other characters, because I do, but Astarion just stole both the show and my heart. I will never shut up about him. All the characters in this story feel so alive, and it's palpable just how much heart went into creating them, along with everything else in the world of this game.

It's been a while since a story's had me bawling my eyes out multiple times like this game had me, and it was so well-earned. I cared so much about this world and characters that everything just affected me so deeply. All the feelings are still raw and I'm a mess, so someday I think I'll be better able to put into words what this game meant to me, but right now I'm just dizzy with how amazing this experience was. I think I'll be losing my mind about it forever.

And I'm looking forward to playing it about 100,000 more times.

[the-gay-prometheus]

I am not immune to creating post-Theraprism Gravity Falls AUs

Calling it the When All Is Lost AU.

Excuse the fact that I cannot draw human beings, I'm doing my best here lmao.

Anyways. To make a long story short, in this AU, Bill doesn't get to leave the theraprism until after the nightmare realm fully decays (why that's important here) and Stanford dies (but Stanford does eventually come to visit him in the theraprism on a six-month schedule - too long of a story to put in this post, but the most important thing to know is that, while Billford is a thing in this AU, by this point, Stanford no longer feels the same way about Bill that Bill feels about him. they do become amicable toward each other, ending up as friends before Ford passes). When he does leave, it's more like parole. He gets put into a human body and sent to Gravity Falls (of course).

Ford is briefed on the Axolotl's plan for Bill a few years before his passing (and there is a very specific plan), so he prepares a few things for Bill's arrival to Gravity Falls, leaving him a selection of clothes, and cluing him in on the location of a secret fourth journal - Journal 3b, which details some of the more intimate moments (not inherently sexual, but I can't stop you from imagining what you'd want to see in there lmao) between Ford and Bill during the building of the portal that he didn't want to include in the journals that might make it to the public eye. On the last page before the rest of the pages are blank, Ford leaves a message encouraging Bill to use the journal for himself and write about his experiences as a human in it.

Bill chooses Ford's interdimensional traveler cloak because he thinks it looks cool (and he likes to be able to cover his face with the hood sometimes), one of his red turtleneck sweaters, a pair of old jeans, and his boots (mostly because they're the only things that fit over the ankle bracelet he still has to wear from the theraprism), and he always carries the journal with him.

Overall, this Bill is the saddest most pathetic little guy you'll ever meet. He's going through a lot. Be gentle with him.

Or throw him down the stairs because he kinda deserves that too.

Someday I'll actually write stuff for this AU lol.

Individual art of the different poses under the cut.

[where-ismydonkey]

DCA PROMPTOBER - DAY 9

OFF LIMITS

You knew the second you had welcomed Sun and Moon into your home, after the fire and destruction of the Pizzaplex, that you’d be making some changes. And that had been a natural shift you accepted, with as much delicateness to the situation as you could. Especially when it still lingered for them.

It was clear as day to you. Like the hesitancy either one of them would display anytime you needed to leave to do something, or the way in which they became more insistent, more agitated with their meticulosity all in the name of caution; And how they could hardly glance in the direction of a flame without memories of that incident hitting them.

But as time went on, they had begun to remember. That they were safe, and that all the dangers and threats they'd been forced to fear didn't have a place in their everyday anymore. And you watched supportively from the sidelines, celebrating as they overcame most fears.

Others remained plain off limits, and you swore to respect that.

But as the months went by, you watched them grow and develop from what they once used to dread. And you with them. Like now, as you and Sun cuddled on one particularly chilly afternoon on your bed. Your arms were wrapped around his middle, and his faceplate was settled into the crook of your neck. Rays shrunken down, it leant you enough space to rest your head atop his own.

"Sun," you smiled, "It's getting colder in here, somehow."

He mock gasped from his place in your arms, "Are you accusing me of being a bad cuddler?"

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes instinctively. It'd been a real enough reaction to his antics when you'd been at the Pizzaplex, but now you could only do it with a smile on your face and an incurable fondness, "No, where did you come up with that conclusion?"

"You just said so!" he laughed, bringing his hands up to playfully grasp your waist. You shrieked, his usually warm hands being the slightest bit cold, and just shook your head. He chuckled, "I digress now, what should we do about your predicament, hm?"

You shrugged, "I dunno, let me go get myself a blanket. Or I'll just light a few candles, it's Fall now anyway—"

But the words had spewed out of you before you could realize what you'd said. And it was only when you felt Sun stiffen underneath you that you clamped your lips together, apologetically glancing down at him.

Finding his awaiting gaze, it took him a moment to shake his head. And instinctively, your hand came to wrap around his own. Or try to with the size difference, at least.

"I'm sorry," you grimaced, "I shouldn't have brought the idea up."

He carefully pulled away from you, and your face fell. Shaking his head, he sat up against the headboard to beckon you back into his arms. He reassured you, "It's alright."

"I really shouldn't have brought the idea up," you sighed and let yourself be tugged into his embrace. Resting your head on his chest you said, "I dunno what came over me, honestly."

"Nonsense," the mechanical hum of his body was soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, "We're still a little hesitant is all, but we'll get used to it someday. I'm sure of it."

"You don't ever have to though," you frowned and looked up at him, "I more than support that, you know."

Sun tenderly glanced down at you. And you knew just by his voice that if his smile could get any bigger it would, "And we appreciate it, Starshine. But while they're still off limits for now, maybe in the near future we'll be able to give them a shot."

But still, wouldn't it be hard on them?

You furrowed your eyebrows, opening your mouth to protest. But instead, the silicone of his faceplate met you in a sweet kiss. One you immediately knew was his subtle way of shutting you up from your nonsensical worries about his worries, and also to just kiss you.

And after a brief second of inner turmoil, as you debated on throwing what remained of your candle collection out, you melted into the kiss. Honestly, as long as your boys knew you would be with them every step of the way, no matter what direction they took, you were content. Whether it was off limits or not.

—

YAYYY got some actual writing done woohoo

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 1: Teatime

Hopefully I'll be able to do this consistently this year! They're going to be short because I'm trying to do all of them. First up we have toxic longing yuri. I swear I'm going to get to all of my Owlcat OCs and it won't just be Hilde and Arueshalae forever, so let's start with Ethyn!

“Right, then we’ll set out for Varnhold immediately!” With the council dismissed, Ethyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. First her barony had been assaulted by hordes of monsters from the First World, now her neighbors had just vanished without a trace. It was no wonder no one had managed to settle the Stolen Lands yet, if events like these were normal. But Captain Varn, her missing neighbor, had been kind to her ever since they first met. His mercenaries had aided her barony against the animal attacks, he was a good trade partner, and he had even sent personal gifts of weapons and magic items to her. If Ethyn didn’t know better, she’d suspect he fancied her! Regardless, it was long overdue for her to aid him in turn, so she packed her bags and set off quickly, throwing the doors to her audience hall open and stepping out.

As the paladin passed through the doors, a brief bout of nausea overcame her. When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. She glanced behind her, the doors to her audience hall were nowhere in sight. She felt the tingle of magic brimming in the air, familiar from her last visit to the First World to destroy the flower assaulting her kingdom with monsters. And standing before her was Nyrissa, the beautiful nymph that broke her heart. The nymph whose heart had been stolen.

Ethyn's cheeks flushed with joy at the sight, but she held her composure and gave the nymph a calm, even look. Still, the question fluttered into her mind and she had to ask, "Nyrissa... Are you responsible for what is happening to Varnhold?"

The scorn in the nymph's eyes was replaced by a spark of surprise, quickly buried. "You... Know my name. Hmph. Even a simple hound can surprise on occasion. Come. Share some tea with me and I will answer your question.”

Suspicion sparked in the paladin’s golden eyes, but it would be rude of her to reject an invitation! And to sit across from the nymph, so close to her… No, Ethyn, focus! The nymph walked over to an ornate wooden table for two that had appeared in the mist, alongside some tea.

Ethyn closed her eyes and murmured a soft prayer, then walked over and took a seat. She smiled softly as Nyrissa poured her a cup. “Thank you. But… Why, if I may ask? Such civility, serving me tea, it’s so unlike you.”

The nymph flashed a coy smirk, making no attempt to hide the cold, loveless emptiness in her eyes. “Perhaps I am simply seeking to poison you, hound. Why, if I may ask, do you indulge in sharing tea with one who will destroy you?”

Ethyn flashed a smile as she took a long sip of the tea. It was fragrant and strange, tinted with unknown notes from the First World. “Mmm. It is delicious poison, I’m quite glad I protected myself from it.” She winked at Nyrissa’s scowl. “As for why… Well, I cannot refuse such time spent with the one I love.”

The nymph sipped her own tea, raising an eyebrow at Ethyn at that word she so detested. “Love, you say? As though a mortal could understand the depth of that terrible feeling… It seems I didn’t crush your heart as thoroughly as I had hoped. Or are you simply delusional?”

“You shattered my heart, Nyrissa.” The paladin maintained her calm smile, though there were notes of anguish buried underneath. “But it’s alright. Far worse was done to you. I’ve glimpsed what you used to be, the Guardian of the Bloom, and that was stolen from you…”

“So you think you love an illusion. A phantom. Naive girl.” Sparks of anger lit in the nymph’s eyes as she stared Ethyn down.

“No. I love you. As you are. As you were. As you could be, someday. As I hope you will be. And I will try to save you.” The paladin flashed a smile, full of genuine compassion and sorrow. It nearly made Nyrissa wretch.

The nymph’s gaze was as cold and cruel as ever, but she felt something stir inside her. The paladin was sickening and naive, but there was something endearing about it, like the devotion of a puppy. An unbidden smirk came to her lips as she set her cup down and stared over at Ethyn. “If you are so foolish as to love me, then would you allow me to kill you? It would prove your devotion to me.”

Ethyn let out a melodious chuckle. “No, my lady. I know my feelings are not returned, and I do not care. I know that you wish to destroy me and those under my protection, and I will fight with everything I have to prevent that. It does not change that I love you.”

“Then you are casting yourself down the path of either death at my hands, or breaking your own heart by killing me.” Of course the latter was quite impossible, but Nyrissa could humor this idiotic paladin.

“Perhaps. And perhaps if my heart must truly break, we will understand each other.” Ethyn idly took a sip of tea and let out a deep sigh. “There is something so beautiful about doomed love, isn’t there?”

Anger sparked in Nyrissa. What was this girl, some kind of tourist parodying her own tragedy? What beauty could she find in Nyrissa’s suffering? At last, that was the final straw. Abruptly, the nymph stood up. “Enough, hound. How dare you insult me like this... We are finished here.”

Ethyn tried to protest, but the nymph was gone before she could react. “I… I am sorry…” She said to the quiet town. The sweet taste of tea still lingered in her mouth. Perhaps she was making too light of the nymph’s situation? Or was that just her trying to manipulate Ethyn? She only wanted to understand Nyrissa. But how could she? She was just a mortal girl, she knew nothing of what it was like to be a fey queen, much less one suffering from the curse that afflicted Nyrissa. But… She could learn to understand her. She would learn. That understanding was love, to the paladin.

[punkforkos]

Hullo!!! Can I please ask about Dante?? :D what's their story?? :D

Hi!! Yes ofc you can!! <3

Here's a really brief overview that I wrote in another post (which also includes their tattoo lore and some fun facts, if you were interested in reading that!)

Dante Inferno (they/he) is my drow fathomless warlock, pirate captain, and awful babygirl who wants the world to burn. Dante took on their warlock pact to gain power and bring suffering to those who wronged them and hopefully find the daughter that was stolen from them many years ago. However, this pact comes at a price... it's actually Dante's misery that their patron is most interested in. 🥀 Unfortunately, they may be in too deep to figure this out!! For years, they've been self-destructing and falling deeper into corruption... and are quickly hurtling towards a future where they may be left with nothing of who they once were.

But I'll also include a longer version below the cut that goes into some of the details of their story!! (Also- I wrote a section at the bottom explaining why I think Dante would get along with Bad End Husk :D )

-- HERE'S THE LONG(ER) VERSION -- (This is still a shortened version of events, go down below this if you want like. the FULL version. I threw in their toyhouse link there!)

Dante comes from a rough part of the Underdark where they grew up impoverished and neglected, but the only thing that really kept them going was a dream to one day get out of that shithole. And in a way, they got their dream,,,! However, they only clawed their way out of the Underdark when they realized they were pregnant and needed to save their kid from the upbringing he was subjected to. Dante wanted far better for his daughter. She became their entire world, their incentive, something good to look forward to. She gave their life meaning,,, For three years, they were able to live on the surface in a local kingdom populated by other drow who also escaped from the Underdark. Those were the happiest years of Dante's life, but they weren't to last. Unfortunately, it was discovered that Dante didn't come into the surface kingdom through the proper channels, so they decided to send them back. However, they would keep Dante's daughter because she never became baptized under Spider Queen society... They dragged Dante away from their daughter kicking and screaming. However, he managed to cut an X into his daughter's cheek as a desperate last resort, promising that they would find her again someday. And then they were brought back to the Underdark and sent reeling into a deep depressive spiral. The only thing that motivated them was the thought of returning back to their daughter..... and making everyone who hurt them pay. This anger, grief, and desperation eventually made them seek out a patron who would help give them all the power they needed to leave the Underdark again and achieve all of their goals. They stumbled across Znn'lusca, a demon who feeds on despair... and she only asked that Dante cause as much misery as possible in exchange for her powers. He agreed, immediately having a plan in mind to kill two birds with one stone-- They ended up making another pact with the Spider Queen herself, promising to send all of the escaped drow back into the Underdark (because if they didn't let Dante escape, he wouldn't show them any mercy either). In exchange, the Spider Queen wouldn't pursue Dante and try to force them back either, so long as they brought her "lost children" back. With these new pacts formed, Dante makes it back to the surface and they are told to focus on gaining power before going after their kid. Zinn played into their fear of being forced back into the Underdark again, planting seeds of doubt in their mind that kept them from attempting to seek out their daughter. Every time Dante would bring up going after her, Zinn would talk them out of it and reroute their thoughts. Because... little did Dante know but their despair was the tastiest of all, and the longer they went without their daughter, the richer it became. 15 years pass. Dante is now an established cutthroat pirate captain who uses a submarine as a ship... trafficking escaped drow back to the Underdark on the side, forgetting their original goals and who they were before the hurt with each day that passes. And then they get thrown into jail and the campaign starts from there,,!! TLDR: Dante is in SO much trouble AFSGH they're stuck in a web they can't get out from,,, being in a pact with not one but two demons who do not wish anything good for him. And he's still missing his daughter so bad,, and he is miserable and angry and hates everyone.

✨📌 If you wanted even MORE details that I left out here (a lot of the in-between stuff and more about Dante's actual campaign, party members, etc), you can read all about it here on their Toyhouse!! <<3

(Thanks for reading all of this if you got this far btw!!)

-------------------------------------------------

WHY DANTE WOULD LIKE BAD END HUSK:

Also, to elaborate on why I think Dante would enjoy bad end Husk-- Husk is exactly the type of patron Dante would have gravitated towards, being the lord of "secrecy and cunning revenge" and plotting the downfall of their enemies. That's the kind of thing Dante wants oh so badly rn!! It's the reason why they ended up making a pact with their actual patron. The desire for power, the ambition, but most of all-- feeling so wronged and wanting everyone who ever hurt them and their daughter to suffer.

Dante is a conniving backstabber, the ultimate betrayer... a liar by nature. The word 'treachery' has been carved into their back in Abyssal/Deep Speech. They have only learned how to survive and sometimes that means using everyone around you as a stepping stool. In the end, the only people who matter are themself and their daughter. (But truly deep down, they're just a REALLY hurt person who is lashing out in the wrong ways. They're just scared, angry, and sad. And they easily fall into corruption and pacts with big bad entities SGHDJK)

-------------------------------------------------

My tags if you wanted to go see more of them!! >> #oc dante | #dante meta <<

Aaand their Toyhouse again!

[anamoon63]

RL and Sims update post + a thank you note

(Warning: long post ahead, read at your own risk).

I wrote this post to thank you guys for all the likes and comments you keep leaving on my posts, even though, as you may have noticed, I can't be here as often as I used to. Real life has taken over almost completely, as I think it should. There are too many things going on, with me, my family, my country, even my sims and other games, lol.

I'm not going to bore you with daily life problems, much less with sad and depressive stuff, or with previews of a story I don't know when/if I'll ever finish, the only thing I can tell you is that I'm still busy with a lot of work, (fortunately) and family stuff; plus, I (finally) started going to therapy (yes, at my age). So right now, I'm juggling even more things than I already was.

And so I wanted to thank you for sticking with me, for continuing to read the chaotic stories of my wacky characters without judging them; thank you as well for each and every message you have sent to my inbox, be it questions, or flowers and love; and to all of you who continue to tag me both on sims stuff and cute games, knowing that I most likely won't be able to answer you, really, thank you for continuing to think of me. Your messages soothe my heart in difficult moments, and I wish to answer them all, I just don't know when I will be able to do that, hopefully someday.

Now, my sims story. For those of you who might remotely still be interested, I'm currently revising the next few episodes of Time Traveler which I wrote earlier this year. To be honest, I don't know when they will be ready, I just know the story goes on and as soon as I have reviewed these episodes, I'll start taking the pictures. When will they be published? Frankly, I don't know. It could be early 2025, but no promises, as I don't have much free time on my hands now. I manage to write in the evenings, but in-game photo shoots are quite time consuming and have to be done in peace and privacy, of which I don't have much at the moment. So, if I do decide to publish these episodes, it will likely be early next year, and at a rather slow pace.

About my gameplay, in Sims 4 we will continue with the Wilsons until the end of the season (coming soon), and then we will take a small break. As for The Sims 3, we just finished Patrick's story in Bridgeport, so now we'll go back with The Cho Brothers. First, we'll take a brief trip to Lucky Palms with Terence and Cynthia Cho; then we'll spend a rather long time in Hidden Springs and Starlight Shores, to see what has happened with Tyron, the eldest of the Cho brothers. And last but not least, we'll go back to Uni with Dale and Kelly, who I hope will FINALLY graduate this year, hahaha.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I am not gone (yet), that if one day I decide to retire I will make a special post about it, I won't leave without saying goodbye, but that day seems far away at least for the moment. 

Now, regarding Inzoi…

I admit Inzoi has captured my interest. As usual, I'm late to the comment party, but I still want to put my two cents about this amazing game. Seeing the trailers and all those beautiful Inzois created by other simmers got me so excited, and at the same time, terribly frustrated to see that the demo didn't contain any gameplay. I need to actually play the game to give an opinion on it! So far it looks beautiful, though I must say that the character creator disappointed me because the sliders are Sims 4 style, which I've always found a bit complicated, I'll forever prefer the Sims 3 sliders, but hey, I had a lot of fun creating my own Inzois.

Hopefully the graphics and gameplay are as good as seen in the previews and its developers won't “break” it into multiple or turn the into a malfunctioning cash cow like EA did with The Sims 4, and to a certain extent, also with the Sims 3 in its time. I hope with Inzoi they'll go for a complete game, no matter if it's expensive, if I consider it is worth it, I'll give them my money as soon as it comes out.

That being said, it is important for me to clarify that I will not abandon The Sims 3 (or even Sims 4 though I don't play it much) for Inzoi. Ever. Neither do I plan to recreate my sims OCs/games in it, because my sims are exactly that, sims. If I ever get to play Inzoi it will be with entirely new characters, although I confess, I did try to reproduce two of my most beloved sims (a boy from the future and a college girl who is a model *wink*) and they turned out pretty well, but nowhere near as adorable as they look in The Sims 3. Plus, the environments in which those two OCs currently move could not be reproduced in Inzoi, at least as far as I know.

Okay, enough of Inzoi. In short: I'm not gone, I'm still here, I'm still reading all your stories, only at a much slower pace, two or 3 simblrs per day at the most. I'm going to read them all, just bear with me, and forgive me again if I don't always comment. Sometimes I don't even have the time or the energy for that. Believe me, 2024 has been an intense year in every possible way, sometimes I really need a break, but I try to be around and will always find a way to keep in touch, even if at times it seems like I'm nowhere to be found, I'll get back to you at some point.

That's all, thanks for reading this far! Have a nice and beautiful start of the week. 💗

P.S. I wrote this post three days ago, wish I had published it earlier, that way I probably wouldn't have gotten a notification that some Simblrs Community 'removed my membership'. When I clicked in said Simblrs Community icon, it said the community was 'private'. I don't know if that's some kind of automatic Tumblr thing, if there's a committee that decides about this, or if it was just a glitch in the matrix; whatever it was, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to be here to keep said membership. I didn't even know Simblr was a private membership. For what it's worth, it wasn't neglect or lack of interest for my part, just lack of time. I hope one day to be able to qualify again and be worthy of this membership. At any rate, I thank you for thinking of me and admitting me in your community in the first place.

[frauleiiin]

For the romance asks, 1 and 7 for Kaaydan?

Thank you so much! I was curious as well about these questions 😌

(Y'all really are killing it with these asks, everyone's asked me the perfect questions for my OCs hihi)

Ask

1. Does your OC have any difficulty distinguishing between love and lust?

He surprisingly doesn't, if anything he to separate these two things as much as possible. His body count is VERY (too) high but he's been in love only 3 times in his entire life. Leaving his first love behind really broke him, he thought he wouldn't be able to love again so slowly, as he dove more into the Underworld, he also dove more into lust. The lack of ties in one-night stands allowed him to feel a real (but brief) connection without feeling scared of screwing everything up. He's also secretly scared of being abandoned, so he actively finds himself avoiding romantic feelings so he's not confronted to the idea of "losing" the person he loves.

(Kaydaan rizz lol)

7. What is the most romantic gesture your OC has ever performed? Alternatively (or additionally), what romantic gesture would they most like to perform?

Probably drop bombing his first "I love you" to Rue before losing consciousness during the battle of Odessen. I'll have to write it someday but that's the event that made them realize they really loved each other so much. Additionally, I think the most romantic thing he could do next is to actually propose to Rue. He's terrified of commitment, relationships are already intimidating for him but marriage? Even worse. But I feel like he'd be ready for Rue someday 🥹

[docholligay]

Shamash answers: Live action final

The brief was, Sailor Moon thought: Angsty

Only 6 answers, so you're all getting a point today!

3rd places, with a place in my heart

The girls have to deal with honest to good consequences for being child soldiers- nightmares, ptsd, etc. --@amhrancas MakotoxAmi but Makoto refuses to acknowledge that she is gay --Alice (No tag for your so you'll have to pay attention when we draw!) I'm so disappointed that PGSM winds back the Minako thing so fast, after I'd spent so long anticipating it. I suppose it was too much a little-kids show but I really want to chew on that for a while, the pain of this Amazing Cool Girl that most of them idolised and were just getting to know and were so excited about and she's just… gone. --- No name, let me know if this is you and I'll try to verify. BUT ALSO YES THIS IS MY BIGGEST CRITICISM OF PGSM FUCK ME The idea of Usagi never being awakened is a fun one to play with for me - how it can all go terribly wrong if she doesn't bring everyone together, if there is no healer in the mix, how does it make the inner/outer conflict play out when S comes around - assuming everyone makes it that far. -- @vassekocho this is such an intersting idea to me, the idea of a SM where people could DIE AND STAY DEAD.

Second place, shocking even me by being about Mako

Mako knows everyone's tastes by heart. It never takes her long to learn- 3 times cooking for somewhere to get their allergies and sensitivities down, maybe another 2 to hammer out their dislikes, and 2 or 3 more to pinpoint and memorize favorites and preferreds. It's habit to make things for her friends. So when they're adults, those of them that remain, and she finds herself humming Haruka's favorite song while making a beer batter, or able to recall Ami reciting trivia as she dices vegetables, it always slams into her. She's making something for someone who isn't around anymore. She made a coursed menu, and only half of it can be fully enjoyed. The cupcakes don't need to be lactose-free anymore. She'll freeze up. The batter stiffens, the vegetables wilt, the courses are mistimed, the cupcakes burn.

@katrani Mako's not my girl, but good work is good work and damn this is GOOD WORK. I love this idea so much I moight use it myself someday, that way of indexing people by what she does in the kitchen.

And first place, coming for me personally and well:

Sailor Moon S AU: The gun lays abandoned on the road, left by Eudial in her haste to depart. Michiru stares. She had seen it. A premonition, Haruka laying broken and lifeless, a heart of such pureness pulsing as a star above her. She understands. Haruka had been but a brief respite, a moment to bask in light and goodness. That she would be the cause if its demise is fitting, she supposes. She is not light, or good. And Michiru has always done what is necessary. Personal cost is immaterial. She picks up the gun. Sights Haruka. "Michiru?" Confusion in those verdant eyes, but also trust. So much trust. She cannot do this, yet she must. The world is at stake. The mission above all else. She closes her eyes. Opens them. "I'm sorry." A whisper carried away on the wind, a prayer swallowed up by the universe. She shoots.

@seolh ABSOLUTELY tailor made to me, holy fuck. I love this, I cannot wait to see Michiru ruin her own life in the aftermath.

[tired-of-being-nice]

please tell me someday i'll at least be able to sleep

YAAAAAY MY FAVORITE FLAVOR OF WHUMP :)))) it's sleep deprivation time and you know what that means baby! time to put milo Through It!

content warnings: sleep deprivation, capitalism, anxiety

It's somewhere between standing up and waiting for their vision to catch up with them that Milo begins to wonder how long it's been since they last slept.

Let's see. This morning...or, no, yesterday, or...hm...

The last time they slept they had a nightmare. They remember that vividly, because they remember crumpling under their desk in panic, but they can't recall how long ago it was, probably because they haven't slept since, and they haven't been outside, so....

They can't hold on to the train of thought. Their ears are ringing, and every time they blink it takes immense effort to open their eyes again. Also, they can't remember why they stood up. 

They sit down again. 

Immediately, their head begins sinking towards their desk as if gravity suddenly has an even stronger effect on them. Maybe it does? Certainly all their limbs feel much heavier than usual. 

They twist their fingers into their hair and tug at it lightly, but the sharp twitches of pain do nothing to wake them up. There are tears running down their face. They don't know how they got there. Maybe if they just let themself sleep for a few minutes they'll feel better.

Milo's eyes close, and for a brief few minutes, all is peaceful rest.

Then there's a sharp rap on their desk, and they flinch back to life, throat already tightening and heart starting to race in preemptive panic. "Sorry," they splutter, "I'm sorry, I don't– didn't–"

"We noticed that your computer was idle for a full five minutes," the voice of one of their supervisors—Milo doesn't care enough to learn their names—says disapprovingly. "Do you have any excuse for yourself?"

I don't think I've slept in at least three days, maybe more, Milo does not say.

I haven't seen my house in at least a week,  and it's not even my house, much less a home, Milo does not say.

I think you're trying to kill me, like literally work me to death, and then probably sue my corpse for time theft, Milo does not say.

"No," Milo says. "I'm sorry. I'll try to do better." They don't say it nearly as clearly as that– it takes them a few tries to get it out, between their teeth chattering and the effort that it takes to string words together.

"See that you do," their supervisor says.

Milo nods, silently, and they finally leave them alone.

Milo blinks, blinks again, ignores Ray giggling at them in the corner of their vision, and remembers what they stood up for in the first place. They were going to get more coffee. Right.

They force themself back to their feet and wait patiently for their head to stop ringing. Hopefully this time they don't forget what they're doing halfway there.

[elizabethplaid]

please clap - daily notes, oct 20, 2024

I think I'm swinging into a "mania"-esque phase, as I'm actually cleaning the upstairs floor of my house. Cleaning with chemicals, even!

My mental health fucks with me in various ways, so I'll keep it brief. Most of the time, I don't get everything. I clean the bathroom fixtures, clear out trash, but I'm overwhelmed by the time I finish those. I take what accomplishments I can, and I'm already doing nicely today.

Details below the cut, because it doesn't affect the price of tea overseas.

Wearing disposable gloves, I cleaned the sink-counter, the floor of my shower stall, and sprayed cleaner on other stuff. Gathered all the trash in that area, started a new bag, etc.

When I reached my limit, I laid on the floor for a few minutes. Then I sat in front of my bedroom door, where I gathered more of the cardboard tp tubes that Moscow likes to play with. I've gathered 34 so far.

Sitting in front of the fan now, still on a break. Next tasks will be to gather trash and bottles, then start putting away clean laundry. And before I finish my break, I'll call in some Rx's to refill. ========

Looking at the goals I wrote last week, I'm already working on a few of these today. Like I said, cleaning and laundry, and I've picked up knitting again. I've been able to wear pajama pants better, even while sleeping.

What's the difference between this week and last? Or even today and yesterday? It's merely that my inner-drive, my self-driven momentum, has kicked in. It sounds foolishly vague, but it's a feeling of whether I'm "ready" or not, not even having to think about it hard. Like, I've been planning my approach to all this cleaning for some time now, but it took "a shift in the wind" to make it happen.

There was a post recently that used the phrase "paralysis of will", alluding to executive dysfunction. There was another that mentioned that shame is a de-motivator, not a motivator.

The fact that cleaning triggers my anxiety (sensory, memory, sense of shame) doesn't help. My counselor has helped me learn to really celebrate and cherish these "mundane" accomplishments.

I used to get snide comments when I'd mention I cleaned something, that I "should do that more often". That would take the wind out of my sails; I'd feel shame for wanting to be proud of myself. At that point, asking for help felt like it'd only bring me more shame.

Today, I will do as much as I can. For bigger things (scrubbing the shower stall, vacuuming), I'll ask for help. I know I won't get snide comments anymore, but I hope my work will help "prove" that I'm doing the best I can.

Ugh, another week-and-a-half til counseling again, and I've already got a rich topic. Oof, I didn't expect to be acknowledging these feelings today.

I'm very glad that my world is smaller than it used to be. It gives me the freedom to be honest with myself, not worrying about criticism.

I already know I'm not going to be an ideal spouse for whoever, someday in the future. I have a lot of heart, but heart doesn't get chores done or pay the bills. So I'll pray my partner has enough income to afford to hire a cleaner for us, haha. And my counseling appointments; insurance only covers so much. :P

[redemptioninchaos]

Oh they are so not paying me enough for this shit and one day, very soon, I'll have had enough of that. That thought came as a cherry on top of the cake of bullshit Larisa had been served that day, and she couldn't hold herself back. She massaged her temples, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Someday she'd stop smoking for good. But not today. Not today when she was this stressed out.

She blew the smoke away from the stranger's face, ignoring the several quiet pings that came from her pocket. No, she could always look at job ads later. If it was even worth trying to find a new one at all. It was. It had to be. "Look... I'm just trying to do my job. Get paid and survive in the big city. Isn't that what everyone's doing here?"

She could look murderous when she was angry - but in that moment, the detective just looked exhausted. Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I'm going to quit this soon. I'm just as sick of cops as you are," here, she threw a brief glance at her uniform. "It was a desperate measure. Things have changed. But not me trying to help. That was why I took up a job like this in the first place. I wanted to help."

Rashan was a lot of things. Loud, obnoxious, dumb as hell. He was everything a hood rat was expected to be. And yet, Sergio somehow trusted him more than anyone else in New York.

The two had met working for Olin's Repossession, a shady third party repo shop specializing in procuring rent-to-own items from lessees who were late on their payments. Such a job could have been dangerous when approaching the wrong lessee; they may not have been able to afford monthly payments, but they had just enough money to buy a gun and ammunition to use against two regular guys in polo shirts.

Somehow, neither Sergio nor Rashan had taken a bullet during their time working with the company. Their time working for Olin's Repossession was short; Olin suddenly fell on hard times and had to close up shop, and the cop in front of him now was responsible.

Despite this, Sergio and Rashan kept in contact. Rashan helped Sergio get out of his shell a bit more and had introduced him to lots of people who, surprisingly enough, weren't gangsters or hoodlums, just party animals. Likewise, Sergio was able to keep Rashan from getting himself hurt when his antics reached a fever pitch.

Days turned to weeks, months into years. Sergio rose within the ranks of his criminal syndicate, right under the cop's nose. She surely had to know that something was up with him with how he became privy to such crucial information that led to the arrests of several rivals of the Laborers. Up until that point, there was no reason for her to ask too many questions.

The sound of a heart rate monitor played in his mind, Rashan's bloodied face burned in his vision.

"You tellin' me this ta get me ta spill, or you jest tellin' ya self that?" he grumbled, balling up his fists. The way he looked at her, she could tell that he wasn't truly angry at her, but at...something else. Something terrible had happened recently, Sergio feeling spurned by circumstance.

[vikenticomeshome]

Cyberchase Character Discussion (for your local Cyberchase trivia quiz) - #4: The Hacker

You all knew this one was coming.

#4: The Hacker

Let's talk about The Hacker's character, as well as the lore around him. We can start with his original character bio. Of course, keep in mind that this info was laid down nearly 25 years ago, so much of what we talk about may no longer be canon. The Hacker is a particularly interesting case, as they have presented different origin stories for him over the years which contradict one another. These don't seem to affect how the Cybersquad views him, though. I remember reading a post not too long ago about someone pointing out that our three Earth kids don't seem the least bit interested in The Hacker's origin. Yeah, I agree on that point.

So, we know from this panel that he is pompus and power-hungry. We also know that he wants to take over Cyberspace. It is a bit weird that they call it "Cyberworld" here. Maybe that was some sort of early name. They already knew that his wig (or was it real hair at this point?) was going to be important to the character.

His favorite color is puce. We all remember how upset he was during Season 1 Episode 1 "Lost My Marbles" when he was stuck using pink fog instead of puce fog to make sure the children would be lost on Topsy-Turvy Island forever.

We also know about his interest in Elvis and becoming the Big E E (Evil Elvis).

We also saw his love for Elvis in the official Cyberchase web comic "Cyber Idol" from Ron Barrett.

He also loves Judge Doom from "Who Framed Roger Rabbit".

He enjoys "The Prince" by Machiavelli, which is a very old and famous book going back to the 1500s. The book present itself as a guide for how princes should act when they gain their power. There's a whole section about princes gaining their power through criminal acts, which I'm sure The Hacker would have enjoyed very much.

The Hacker's original original story came from the oficial Cyberchase Prequel web comic, "How It All Started" (episode 1). It is about as simple as can be.

Narration: Needing an assistant with a high level of intelligence, Dr. Marbles assembles a cyborg who calls himself The Hacker.

The Hacker (thinking): Hmmm, someday I'll take over all of Cyberspace!

He picked out his own name, and he decided he would take over Cyberspace shortly after birth. He also always looked like his current self. Is assembly the normal process for birthing a new Cyborg? Did Slider start out the same way? You know what? I don't even want to go into the confusing mess that is Cyborg biology or how it compares to Robot biology on this post. We know that Cyberchase is never going to explain it.

I'll keep the rest of this origin story brief. The Hacker stole Motherboard's Encryptor Chip and locked in a Vault.

Digit was able to retrieve it, and Motherboard declared that The Hacker must be banished for his crime. Dr. Marbles drained his power, which ensure that he needs to regularly recharge himself. Then Dr. Marbles sent him to the Northern Frontier via a remote-controlled pod.

I love Dr Marble's line here. "Page down, Hacker. You file is closed!"

It is revealed that The Hacker brought Digit with him into exile against his will. Somehow, neither Motherboard nor Dr. Marbles realized this.

I've already talked at length about The Hacker causing disruption on the Valussa Cybersite, which led to Digit fully defecting to Motherboard.

We actually got an animated adaptation of this version of The Hacker's origin story in Season 1 Episode 11 "A Day at the Spa".

It gives us The Hacker having his perpetual power supply down-graded by Dr. Marbles prior to being launched into exile.

However, the show has not maintained the origin story from "How It All Started". Starting with Season 3 Episode 4 "A Piece of the Action", we see The Hacker in his younger years. I'm not sure if his hair was a wig back then or not.

We got more of this during the Transformatron Arc, where we saw Coop destroy the Transformatron Blueprints to prevent The Hacker from using the machine to take over.

We also know that The Hacker went to school, though it's not clear if this was high school or college.

So, yeah, it seems like the writers decided to move away from The Hacker as being born evil. They wanted to flesh him out more and have him turn to darkness over time.

All of this could still fit with his original banishment though. Maybe Motherboard never learned about the Transformatron, since The Hacker damaged Coop's hard drive and sent him into exile. Maybe Coop didn't want to go to Motherboard and harm The hacker more once the Transformatron plans were disposed. Perhaps The Hacker's theft of the Encryptor Chip still happened later on and triggered his banishment.

And then Season 5 Episode 6 "The Flying Parallinis" happened.

Oh look, that poor cyborg is trapped on top of Mount Way-Up-There in the Northern Frontier.

Good thing The Flying Parallinis are here to use their flexing power to build a tower to rescue him.

Oops.

And so, having accidentally freed The Hacker from his prison, The Flying Parallinis vowed to put aside their special talent for who knows how long. No doubt that was pretty traumatic for them.

One central point of The Hacker's situation is that he no longer has the amazing power supply he started with. It was downgraded, so that he requires regular recharges. Did Dr. Marbles and Motherboard just stick him on top of a tower all by himself to die?

Well, if Season 12 Episode 8 "Hacker Hugs a Tree" is his canon origin story, then the answer is no. Here is how his banishment was portrayed during that episode.

So, we have Hacker in his young form being shoved through a portal to the Northern Frontier all alone. This breaks the idea that The Hacker was in his final form when he was banished. This breaks the idea that Motherboard and Dr. Marbles put him on top of Mount Way-Up-There. This breaks the idea that he took Digit with him when he was banished. I'm not even sure if Digit exists at this point in the new timeline. They don't explain why he's being banished here. It may not have even been over the theft of the Encryptor Chip in this timeline. Given that he looks the same as he did when Coop shredded the Transformatron plans, I wonder if Motherboard found out about him giving Coop magnetite poisoning a few days later, and that got him banished.

In hindsight, maybe I should have made a separate post all about The Hacker's origin story and its retcons. On the other hand, I don't know that you can talk much about the character without at least trying to explain his banishment.

Okay, let's fast-forward to the present. What does The Hacker really think of the Cybersquad? With Motherboard damaged, but not destroyed, Matt, Jackie, Inez, and Digit are usually the only ones standing between him and controlling Cyberspace. Assuming Digit's origin story hasn't been ret-conned, he is basically The Hacker's son, even if he has betrayed him at the point. Matt, Jackie and Inez are actual children. Would The Hacker really go as far as trying to kill them all if he had the chance?

Yes! Yes he would! One stand-out example is Season 3 Episode 7, where he uses lava to flood the pyramid stairs that they are climbing. That was attempted murder.

We can also consider Season 1 Episode 7 "Zeus on the Loose" as a stand-out example. The Hacker openly states that he intends to open Pandora's Box in order to unleash death and destruction. As a children's cartoon character, he isn't even supposed to use the word "death", but he does it anyway, because he's The Hacker.

But what about Cyborg children? Is The Hacker willing to hurt them too?

Yes! Absolutely! The most notable case was probably giving Slider magnetite poisoning in Season 4 Episode 5 "Measure for Measure".

And what about Digit? What is The Hacker willing to do to him?

How about we use Season 6 Episode 1 "Digit's B-day Surprise" as an example. The Hacker spends Digit's B-Day with him breaking his self-esteem down. Digit is convinced that the kids dislike him for being clumsy. He is almost convinced to sign a consent form to let The Hacker reprogram him to make him less clumsy.

Of course, this is a trick to let The Hacker turn Digit into an obedient henchman. The kids are so fortunate that Digit defected to Motherboard. Buzz has no special abilities. Delete has his seldom-used elongating arms, but he is a wishy-washy mess. Digit has an all-purpose beak that can open nearly any lock and drill through nearly any material. He's also the only Cyberspace resident who is immune to magnetite. Also, he can fly. He could be a goddamn Terminator.

What's next for The Hacker? Will he hurt unborn babies?

Oh yeah, he already went there in the pilot, "The Poddleville Case", where he stole the Poddle's eggs.

Anyway, what else can I say about The Hacker? He's quite happy to bide his time and play the long game with his plans. We saw this in the Snelfu Snafu, where he let the kids get the last bid on the auction for the Encryptor Chip. They took it back to Control Central, plugged it in and...

...it turned out that The Hacker sabotaged the Encryptor Chip ahead of time to allow him to take over Cyberspace.

We could also look at the Transformatron Arc, where the kids won in small ways, while The Hacker slipped away laughing with another piece to his blessed machine.

Ascension.

I suppose we can finish up with his official trading card.

The only real piece of new information here is that he refuses to provide his age. So, your guess is as good as mine. He could be 3 years old or 300 years old.