#I think it'd actually make it so much easier to look forward to if I had confirmation that we wouldn't have anything influential

[worthyking]

the way I was on my fucking knees begging for a Gansey cameo a Gansey snippet any Gansey content for greywaren and now for this aftg spinoff I'm out here like if NOTHING else. please don't have any of the foxes be there I don't want to know what's going on with them

[misskamelie]

Being back is currently all about email email send another email answer to email read email email email reality check to see what's the status of different emails

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Aug. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

Hello again, strangers! I thought it was about time to add another devlog again! This time I'm trying out a more in-depth approach to this, to somewhat make up for the lack of gameplay previews. Let me know what you think!

For starters, I've revamped the rhythm system 🤯 (like... again! 🤯) Don't freak out, though. Surface level gameplay-wise, it works mostly the same as it did in the last demo, so you won't have to re-learn much. I just needed to redo some things so it'd be easier for me to work with in the long-run while developing the rest of the game. Way less headaches await me now when working on new levels. In the process, I was also able to incorporate some neat new aspects to it and make the core aspects of it better. If you're familiar with older rhythm games, it's now a tad closer to what the dog was doing.

The opponent's icon has been covered up to avoid spoilers. I might be updating all of the character icons soon, actually.

I still plan to revamp the game's tutorial at some point. Something I've noticed is that often, new players don't seem to understand the purpose of the beat dots. Initially, I thought the idea that "on the beat dot = on beat" would come as second nature to new players without need for explanation. However, I hadn't considered that many players are likely to be more familiar with rhythm games that don't even have beat dots in this manner, so they're probably inclined to focus more on getting as close as possible to matching the order of the suggested inputs, and in this game, even at the cost of being off-beat if they aren't keeping up. So, I think the most important thing I need to emphasize when I give a new in-game explanation of the mechanics is the beat dots and really getting new players into the mindset of prioritizing the tempo. I think I should also have the tutorial's gameplay portion try to discretely get the player used to the control scheme to help people who haven't particularly memorized where all of their controller's buttons are without looking. This'll probably result in the tutorial song shown in the demo being replaced in the full game. I do still like its instrumental though, so maybe that will be repurposed for another game feature, at least.

There's probably some guy out there who just REALLY loves Astral Advisory as the tutorial song that will be very upset to hear this. In solidarity with them, I've depicted their enthusiasm with this rather silly image I've created.

As for other levels, now that I've got the updated rhythm system up and running, the 3rd rival battle of act 2 is almost complete. If you didn't like the Pow-Notes in Supastar Tennis, you might not like me very much after this! So far, I think this level has some of the best and most ambitious animation work I've done yet, so I hope you'll look forward to it. Not sure when I'll show a gameplay preview of this level, but I probably will at some point.

Also, I've made a new logo for the game! I'll gradually be phasing this one in to replace the old one, but until the full game releases you'll probably still see the old one hanging around too in some places.

That's all I can talk about for now, but thanks for reading! - LJ

[solargeist]

I’m new here and I love everything you’re making already ! I’m just wondering what the story here is?

hello !!!! thank you !!

the story here is uh, an AU of Evo Smp by Grian ! My tag is [here]

i assume thats what ur asking ?

The short version: The story is abt a young man leaving his life behind and joining a bunch of angels, but its not what he thought it'd be like and he regrets it and goes on the run for a long time.

The long version: The angels, known as Watchers, are known to watch players, only interacting to give them new things and updates, or punish them for breaking rules, such as being greedy.

They originally did not like Grian, seeing him as too robust, but over time he catches their (many) eyes, a diamond in the rough... He shows many characteristics of a promising Watcher, he enjoys setting pranks and stalking people, finding entertainment in explosions and traps, and always craving more.

So they start talking to him, they usually don't speak directly to players, only leaving notes, but they talk to him, he's special they say. He calls them the Audience.

The Watchers talk to him often, giving him compliments on his building skills, on his pranks, or they just listen as he rambles abt his life.

Grian is an orphan, I mean he is 25 at this point in time, but he grew up without parents. He has a little sister he took care of, but shes also grown now. Theres a small part of him that has grief over this, that ache, or longing, to have grown up with a regular family, to be taken care of. The Watchers catch onto this, its their job really to notice. They already think of him as a child, but they start acting more familial now, asking if he ate, or slept, or checking him over for any scratches, (much like a mother would--but he swallows these thoughts down, insisting this is how angels are to every player, but its not true, they let him know how much potential he has, so promising ! so special !)

That small part of him really starts to ache and grow.

This isn't the only thing the Watchers do though, they also make a tiny little effort to separate him from other players, quietly isolating him so the transition will be easier. It works, Grian notices his friends not coming around as often, they're probably busy, so he doesn't want to bother them. This goes on for awhile, any negative thought Grian expresses, the Watchers will agree with, in a gentle way... Sometimes people grow apart.. Sometimes you outgrow people.. Its for the better. He festers in these ideas, sometimes just laying on the stone floor of his basement, having not spoken to anyone in days. He looks forward to when the angels come around, even if they're just small floating eyes, sometimes a hand will split through reality and ruffle his hair. (if he leans into the touch, he doesn't realize)

Grian thinks that small aching part of him has outgrown his body.

One day, after who knows how long, the Watchers encourage him to meet up with his fellow players again. He questions why, but they tell him it'll be good for him to go play, theres a portal for them all to go through, a dragon on the other side. Its actually quite nice talking to everyone again, a bit awkward, but they're joking around, and when they find the portal, Grian jumps in before anyone can finish speaking. He was always rather impulsive ! He jumps through and stands alone on a platform, laughing to himself in the dark void, waiting for everyone else to go through. But no one does, the Watchers didn't tell him he'd be alone after jumping through, separated from the group, he feels abandoned. That ache rises again, hurt and anger twisting together, forming embarrassment. The Watchers were right in telling him he doesn't have anyone else to rely on, but them. So he does his quest, he kills the dragon by himself, an arrow between its eyes and it hits the ground behind him, dragging.

Hes sweaty, his clothes are burnt and torn, he's exhausted and he just wants to go home and climb in bed, no matter how dirty he is right now, but before he can go through, an angel statue catches his attention, it slowly moves off its pedestal, having watched his entire fight.

He didn't realize how tall they were off the pedestal, they also wear dark clothes that hide their faces and form, but two large dark wings peak out, its not exactly expected from angels. (Grian is 5'0, every Watcher towers over him)

They talk, and She offers him a place with the Watchers, if he wants to join them..... He's tired, hes hurt, and he's still mad at everyone, how could he say no ? He agrees.

Upon becoming a Watcher and being welcomed into a new world, he gets a haircut, he gets new clothes, and he gets a new room. The buildings rly are beautiful here, he gawks at the architecture, THIS is what he wanted, what he craved, he wanted to do this work too, the tools he could get his hands on has him bouncing on his heels and barely paying attention to the Watcher.

This excitement doesn't last too long, after hes introduced to others and settled in, theres new expectations on him, hes a Watcher now, not just a player, so things are gonna be harder to impress now. The Watchers have to shape him into a Watcher, so they don't let him sleep for a few days, to soften his attitude, they only stop this when he breaks down in exhaustion and tears, but his manners are better like they wanted.

Grian's not allowed to go out by himself, he can't leave the island even if he wanted to anyway, so most of his time is spent within the main few buildings, exploring the halls and library, its a good thing, bc they also make him study a lot, theres a lot to learn abt Watchers and their history, their magic, and their culture.

They don't give him glasses, instead teaching him enchantment magic to use instead, its good to always have Watcher magic flowing through your blood. His eyes are a constant soft purple.

Watchers, being angels, don't rly have to eat, so if Grian wants to eat, he has to ask a Watcher to summon food for him, the fruit tastes good, but anything cooked is always off or completely wrong. If he asks, they'll give him raw ingredients to cook by himself, with supervision of course. (not that he needs it, he is 25 years old and raised himself)

The one particular Watcher that has responsibility over him is named Aether, also known as Watcher Mum, shes the one that makes sure he has food, clothes, and is generally taken care of. She's a lot softer on him than expected, he's so cute ! and tiny ! She can't be strict on him ! She cuts his fruit into little shapes for him, even though he didn't rly ask.

The thing abt having Watcher magic flowing through his body near constantly, is that its slowly changing him. He grows wings, and it hurts so bad he thinks hes dying, they rip out of his skin after a few weeks, splattering blood across his room and bed. Aether cleans that and him up, tending to the wound. She doesn't have worry in her voice when she comments on how bright and pretty his wings are under all the blood. Its moments like this where Grian wonders how much of a mistake he's made, as he stares at the Watchers' extra eyes, and talon hands, he wonders when that'll happen to him, and how much it'll hurt, and how its his fault.

Ah, i'll stop here, its getting very long and I haven't even touched on his run away, or the Listeners, or what Watchers are, or the s6-s8 recovery and relapse arc, or the different timeline connections and his God self he accidentally created and doomed-- i ahve a lot stored in my head *explodes*

[auncyen]

today's felt terrible so I impulse wrote anyway

You try to keep your smile up as much as possible even with the Sadness weeping into your back as it clings to your shoulder. It's so wet. You don't know if your shirt will ever dry. Maybe toddling Sadnesses aren't dangerous, but apparently they're pretty good at being annoying!

And that must show in your face somehow, because Siffrin's face starts to fall, and then he's no longer looking up at you but down at the ground, clutching the brim of his hat. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you--I'll let you get back to--"

"No, no, Sif, you're not bothering me! Not at all," you say quickly. "Actually, maybe you could me with... um, I wouldn't say it's bothering me, yet, but it's something I need to figure out. ...You have to promise not to freak out." Because Siffrin is very very fast with his knife and you don't want him trying to stab the Sadness. Partially because it's on you, but even if Siffrin can tear it off...if it's destroyed now, it'll just reform later on, possibly worse, and still no one will know whose it is to help the person.

You've got Siffrin's undivided attention as they look up at you again. "I won't freak out. What is it?"

"Um, just try to think of if this reminds you of anyone?"

"'This'?"

"..." You hold your breath for a moment, wondering if it'd be easier to just turn around and show him than try to explain, before remembering sharp knives and quick reflexes. Yeah, explain first. "It's a Sadness. Not a dangerous one!" you add quickly when Siffrin's eye widens with alarm. "Um, stages...it's not an infant, but it's not really gotten to the juvenile stage yet either. So it's only got a few characteristics, but it was found near the inn you're staying at? So I was wondering if you might recognize anything about it?"

Siffrin narrows their eye. "Where is it?"

"..."

"Isa."

"Promise you won't freak out?" you ask again. That serious look on Sif is actually. It's interesting. It's doing interesting things to your heart. But also making you nervous that maybe you shouldn't have brought this up? Oh crab Sif has the most reason of anyone to react badly to this, you were so worried about hurting his feelings by making him think he was bothering you that you didn't consider. the trauma.

"Isa. Where. is. it."

Before you can decide whether it's worse to answer or not, the Sadness cries out loud, what almost sounds like a sobbing gasp. You don't know if Sadnesses even need air. Siffrin brings one foot forward as they stare at your chest, the right height for where it is on your back, and you quickly back up to the wall. The Sadness squishes a bit between you and the wall; after it squeaks out a cry, you give it a smidge of extra space.

"It's on you?!"

"Haha! Surprise!" you say because wow are nerves great at making you say stupid things. Siffrin's upset, you need to reassure him. "I mean! It just kind of latched on?? It hasn't tried to hurt me though, it'll be some time before it's a danger to anyone! So I wanted to figure out whose it is while it's with me."

"But if it could hurt you--"

"Sif, Sif, I promise, there's time. It doesn't even have its Craft hands yet." You hold your hands up, placating. "So can I show you?"

Siffrin meets your gaze and nods.

"You're not going to freak out?"

"That you're letting a Sadness piggyback on you? Already did."

You laugh sheeplshly at that tone. "The piggyback ride wasn't by choice. This one's a little whirlwind when it's not sobbing. I could probably stun or destroy it by ramming my back against the wall, but, uh, my back would hurt. And I really want to help find whoever's in trouble. So...yeah."

Siffrin looks away as they mumble, "I won't freak out." So they're definitely not happy about this, but that's enough reassurance for you to step toward them and slowly turn around. You can feel the Sadness shifting, undulating really as you do, and when you look over your shoulder, it and Siffrin are engaged in a staredown.

Siffrin doesn't look scared or frightened. He looks repulsed, his lips pulled back in a grimace. ...You guess that's a normal response toward a Sadness, maybe, because even if it's barely a juvenile it could still turn into an adolescent or maybe even an adult later, but you hate that you put that face on him. You should try to get this done quickly. "It likes physical touch, it's fast... is it still favoring the one eye?"

"Yeah," Siffrin says, voice rough on that one word. Then they smile, looking up at you. (It looks almost painful in how forced it is.) "...But who it could be though...I have no idea!"

-

loose idea for Sadness stages, which I ended up just using infant->juvenile->adolescent->adult because numbered stages seemed wrong for Vaugarde ("that is an Odile labeling system, Isa wouldn't even pick it up from her"):

infant: small blobs. Some float some don't. Floating blobby infant sadnesses sometimes weren't recognized as Sadnesses and started the legend of the will o' wisp.

Juvenile: still mostly blob but slightly more grown/defined.

Adolescent: Has Craft hands, will use them. They don't usually attack people though, only lashing out if they feel encroached on.

Adult: fully mature. Will chase down victims.

Since Sadnesses aren't really able to be observed from beginning to end (or at least, any sane and slightly decent person is going to try to help the person with the Sadness before it gets too bad), it's known from anecdotes that an 'infant' Sadness can turn into a juvenile, or an 'adolescent' into an 'adult', etc., but sometimes adult Sadnesses pop up where no Sadness was noticed before, making it uncertain if Sadnesses have to go through all the stages or if some go through them unusually fast.

[kokonoiis]

artist's admiration── ❝ maybe falling in love with kokonoi hajime was easier than you thought it'd be ❞

Ⅰ. tokyo revengers ft. idol ! k. hajime x stylist ! gender neutral reader Ⅱ. drabble / 1.5k wc Ⅲ. tw. slight abuse of power if you squint but also not really at all. Ⅳ. a/n. alright we're so here to kick off the bonten idol au that i've been cooking, of course i have drabbles planned for all of the members and some more characters than just the bonten idols so,,, let me cook let me cook. most won't be nsfw for now but the nsfw is coming i'm sure

" haji- what are you doing ? " kokonoi knew what that tone of your voice meant better than anyone else. he knew he had a few second in total to stop everything that he was doing, but with the eyeliner wand in his hand, he was already committed and had no intention of stopping already. it was just a little graphic eyeliner, it couldn't be that hard, right ? he swore he remembered doing it all the time whenever he was in junior high, so he couldn't be so bad at it. at least, no one came up to tell him that his eyeliner sucked, so that's all he needed for confirmation that he wasn't terrible at eyeliner.

but before he really got to test his hypothesis, you were already behind him, your arms crossed as you hovered over kokonoi while he squinted at the mirror, trying to really see what he was doing. " you don't have your contacts in, do you ? "

" no, they give me a headache whenever i'm performing. the fans say i always look mad whenever i'm performing so i don't want to wear my contacts anymore, " it sounded reasonable to him, but you just let out an exasperated sigh, reaching over him to grab the eyeliner pencil from his hand.

" if you can't see what you're doing, how do you expect to be able to actually draw a good wing ? " you asked, trying not to show your annoyance at his flippant nature, knowing that if you got into an argument with him over something like this, it could last hours or more, and you really only had about forty minutes to completely do his makeup now that kokonoi was fitted into his stage outfit. but, of course, you couldn't just let it go without being a little annoying about it. " besides, i've seen what you looked like in junior high.. i don't think you're, uh, practiced enough to my standards. whatever is on your face in forty minutes reflects my skills, so i need to make sure it's perfect or its my head on a spike. understood ? "

" not really. " kokonoi looked up at you through his mirror, shaking his head as you settled down into a stool next to him. you swiveled his chair around so he was facing you, and redipped the eyeliner wand, leaning forward to do your job.

" maybe i'll teach you how to do your own eyeliner when you're not going to be headed off onto stage, yeah ? " you mused out loud under your breath, that focused look in your eyes as your free hand took his chin and tilted his head so he was looking straight ahead, resting your hand there just in case you needed to move his head again. " then we'll have much more time to thoroughly teach you and it won't reflect poorly on me, you know what i mean ? of course i want you to do your own makeup if you like it, but damn, i can get fired over this. "

there were unspoken words that refused to fall from your lips, of course. you were a makeup artist first, and everything else came second. that included any feelings that you might have towards anyone you might be working relatively closely with. and kokonoi hajime was on that list of people you couldn't really afford to fall in love with.

you spent at least an hour or more nearly every single day with your makeup kit looking at his face all day every day, and with that closeness came natural conversations. you learned the two of you had a lot of things in common, like how you both really enjoyed sweet things and really didn't have a taste for anything spicy, or how you both enjoyed messing around with fortune telling from time to time. just small things about both of you that you've learnt over the span of your time as a makeup artist for bonten.

but no, you couldn't fall in love with kokonoi, it was literally your job on the line. the only reason you landed it in the first place was because you were in a relationship at the time, and it was an unspoken rule that a makeup artist had to almost prove that they wouldn't fall for their idols. lord knows what would happen if someone caught wind of your feelings for him, or if the wrong people snitched. those emotions weren't necessary for your job, so you cut them out.

while trying to push him away, though, he almost seemed to lean harder into talking with you, as if he'd never met anyone who he couldn't sway with his words one way or another. but you were stubborn in your ways, and you made sure that he was always aware of how hard headed you could be. and that stubbornness really was what kept you from really connecting with the romantic feelings that had sprouted for kokonoi.

" you're staring. "

you blinked a couple of times, your eyes widening slightly before you narrowed them again, dragging the eyeliner across his lid. " well, yeah, i'm trying to fix what you did. " the lie was effortless, but not perfect, especially since he really only made one simple line and it really wasn't going to be hard to fix at all.

" uh huh, " kokonoi found himself laughing softly, a knowing smile on his face. " if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're falling for me. "

" me ? falling for you ? no, never, " you denied it pretty adamantly, turning his head so you didn't have to fight with filling in the pretty thick wing that you gave him. the rest of his makeup was simple, so you wanted the wing to be the standout point this time. he had monolids, so the bat technique was your favorite to use on him, and it worked pretty well as long as he could sit for the extra time while you filled it in with the fine tip of the wand.

you kinda liked how he never fought back with you as you moved his head from time to time, your hand sat on his chin comfortably. it gave you some sense of power and made you feel a certain way whenever he looked up at you and the two of you made eye contact with each other. but.. that didn't mean you were falling for him. " i'm your makeup artist, koko. "

" and you're pretty, " kokonoi had whispered immediately, as if he didn't even think before he spoke. " i think you're pretty. and i spend quite a long time looking at your face while you're doing my makeup. you always have this one crease in the middle of your brows-- "

" alright, alright, koko, i got your point ! stupid.. "

" what ? i just complimented you and you're going to call me stupid ? rude. "

you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, trying to shake your head an alleviate the blush on your cheeks that you were so sure he was able to see. " you never asked me to compliment you back. that's like giving a gift because you expect one back, kinda rude, right ? " pulling away from him, you admired your work, tilting his head a few ways to make sure it looked good from all angles. of course, it was kokonoi hajime, he was going to look perfect with any makeup you put him in.

" you are a weird one, you know that ? "

" nope. i've never heard that one before a day in my life, koko. "

" oh, then let me be the first to tell you, " kokonoi grinned a little bit, leaning forward to press a small kiss onto your lips, throwing you off guard completely, but not necessarily in a bad way. you found yourself kissing him back within seconds, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours. he tasted like the flavored lip balm he always applied before you did his lips, and you could smell the cologne he was wearing. were people looking ? you didn't know, and for the moment, you didn't care, either.

when he pulled away, he stood up, brushing off his stage outfit with a nonchalant hum, as if your world wasn't spinning because of him. " i think you're a weird one. but i'll see you after this performance, okay ? you'll have time to teach me how to draw my own eyeliner, right ? "

you weren't entirely sure how well he would do in your class, but you figured that the extra practice couldn't hurt. " uhm. yeah. i'll see you then, i guess. " you mumbled underneath your breath, feeling both deflated and ecstatic about spending more time with kokonoi where you weren't staring into his face trying to make sure that his foundation was even and making sure his eyeshadow was perfect on both sides. " and, for the record, koko. i think you're the weird one. "

" well, make sure to watch this weirdo perform his best ! " you would make sure to watch from the sidelines and silently cheer him on. maybe falling for kokonoi hajime was a lot easier than you thought it would be, and maybe you were okay with that. as long as he didn't ruin the makeup that you'd worked so hard on.

──kokonoiis 2024

[captainsophiestark]

Drinks With Peggy

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my 1.5k Follower Campaign! Requested by @everyhazyday - Enjoy! Thanks for sending it in!

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: "Stop being so dramatic."

Summary: Daniel's S/O came out of a program like Dottie's, so they're still learning how to be in a relationship and communicate with the people who matter.

Word Count: 2,115

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath, clutching my side as I staggered forward down the street. I only had to make it a little farther, and then I'd be safe.

Come on, I chanted in my head. Come on, you can do this. You've done way worse than this before, what's another block with a little gunshot wound?

Unfortunately, my brain didn't seem to want to listen to reason, instead sending up all the alarms with pain and frustration and my body threatening to shut down on me. Fortunately, all of my training for the first two decades of my life had been centered on overcoming all of those signals, and pushing through anyway.

Finally, the door I'd been looking for swam into view. I straightened up as much as I could, pulling one hand away from my side long enough to knock. It was the middle of the night, so I just had to hope I'd been loud enough to be heard.

After a few agonizing moments of waiting, the door finally swung open. My boyfriend, Daniel Sousa, stood on the other side, hair rumpled and eyes a little squinted, like he'd just rolled out of bed. When he caught sight of me, however, all the tiredness disappeared in an instant, and he lunged forward to support me, one arm taking mine while the other held both our weights up with his crutch.

"Hey! What happened? Are you okay? Holy shit, weren't you and Peggy supposed to go out for a drink tonight?"

I grimaced as Daniel helped me through the doorway, shutting the door behind us. Peggy and I had told everyone in the office that we were going out for drinks together, that much was true. But in reality, it had been a cover, so that Thompson couldn't stop either of us from going out and investigating a new lead on our own. Nobody but us would've made it more than a few steps past the door, but Thompson had recently started on another ego trip when Peggy came out to LA, leaving us to work around him in order to actually get anything done. And unfortunately, Daniel hadn't been in the office to be clued in on our plans.

"We might've... spent the evening a little differently..." I managed, huffing the words out between breaths and grimaces of pain. Daniel shook his head, but refrained from saying anything, at least for the moment.

We managed to make it to the couch in his living room, and he helped me lay down before kneeling next to me. I grinned at him, although it probably didn't look as charming as I was hoping for, since it was contorted by pain and exhaustion. Daniel huffed, his eyes scanning me for the injury causing my pain even as he spoke.

"What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"Here," I breathed, lifting up the hem of my shirt to reveal the bullet wound I'd gotten on my way out. Thankfully, it'd hit me far enough to the side that it likely hadn't taken out any vital internal organs. Still, Daniel swore at the sight of it.

"Dammit, I think we might need to get you to a hospital-"

"What? No, we don't. Especially because it'd be so much easier for the person who did this to find me and finish the job in a hospital. I just need some boiling water, some sheets, and a sewing kit. Maybe some long bandages, if you have them. Otherwise we can just tear up bedsheets."

Daniel had been shaking his head the entire time I'd been talking.

"Sweetheart, I understand the concern about somebody finding you at the hospital, but I don't have the medical knowledge to patch this up myself."

"You don't have to. I do. I've stitched myself up from shit like this a thousand times. I just need you to get the supplies. And I guess it'll be nice to have moral support, this time."

Daniel's face had gone almost sheet white at my words, especially when he glanced back at the wound in question. I just rolled my eyes.

"Stop being so dramatic, Daniel."

"Dramatic! Sweetheart, you have a hole in your body, from a gunshot. You stumbled through my front door almost delirious from blood loss-"

"Just from exertion! It was trying to run and walk with the injury that had me staggering so much, not blood loss on its own. At least, not yet-"

"That's not better!" Daniel took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting my stare again. "Do you promise me, on our relationship, that you will actually be alright if I go get you the supplies you asked for and you just... stitch yourself up? It's not gonna give you an infection or come back to hurt you later if we do it this way?"

"I promise, Daniel. I know what I'm doing. Just trust me."

He sighed again, slowly nodding his head as if to psych himself up. After a moment, he leaned in to kiss me on the forehead, then pushed off the couch and got back to his feet.

"Alright. Stay with me, I'll only be gone a minute."

I gave Daniel a small smile and a nod as he turned and hustled off into the house. Even after he'd turned, however, the smile stayed on my face.

I'd spent a lot of my life, most of it really, being basically completely self-sufficient. I'd spent time in a harsh training program similar to the one the SSR's nemesis Dottie Underwood had gone through, which emphasized hitting hard and making sure we could get through any pain that wouldn't outright kill us, all of it done alone. And then, I'd met Peggy. After a while, she'd managed to convince me to join her side, and she hadn't let me feel that lonliness a single day since.

Everybody in her close circle that I got to meet and work with had been the same way. And then, after Daniel and I had spent some time as friends, he'd asked me out to drinks. My immediate first thought had been that he was trying to get the drop on me to poison me, but thanks to all the time I'd spent with him and Peggy and the others, that thought went away relatively quickly. I'd said yes, and we'd had an amazing first date—my first real date ever. The rest had been history.

Now, instead of taking some stuff from a drugstore and hiding in a back alley or a cheap motel while I patched myself up, I could go to Daniel, even if he did worry over me like a mother hen. He was here for me, no matter what, and that wasn't something I'd ever had before.

Thankfully, before I could get any more lost in sentimentality, Daniel returned with the supplies I'd asked for. I took them out of his hands with a grateful smile that might've looked more like a grimace, then took a few deep breaths to steel myself.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Daniel, surveying the scene as he kneeled beside me again. I shook my head.

"Nothing other than being here. I'll let you know if that changes."

"I'll be ready."

With Daniel standing by, acting as my rock, I got to work stitching myself up. It wasn't enjoyable by any means, but it also wasn't anything new. I'd done this before, so I got out of my own head and in the zone while I worked, which made it easier to deal with the pain and discomfort. Finally, I'd cleaned the wound and closed it, then wrapped it up tight in bandages with a little help from Daniel. I sagged back on the couch and let out a long sigh as soon as I'd finished, the exhaustion really sinking in now, especially as the adrenaline faded.

"Are you okay?" asked Daniel, one hand resting gently on top of the bandages as he watched me carefully. I sighed, but nodded.

"Just tired. I think it's worse now that I don't have to stay on guard. I know I'm safe here, with you, so... my body's not trying to keep me on high alert."

"Well, good," said Daniel, leaning down to kiss my forehead before moving to stand again. "I'm going to get us some blankets and snacks, and then we can just rest here for a while, alright?"

I nodded, a sleepy smile making its way onto my face. I managed to stay awake until Daniel got back, which was a near-superhuman feat. Right on cue as he returned to the couch, the phone rang.

"I'll be right back," he promised, dropping the blankets next to me. I nodded, pulling the fluffiest blanket on top of me. Fighting off sleep had become about a million times harder than before I had a blanket, but I got dragged back from the edge of sleep when I heard Daniel's voice coming from the other room. "Peggy, slow down."

I shot into a sitting position—or at least, I tried to. My injury wouldn't actually allow for me to do that, so what I got instead was a slow, partial situp with immense pain. I cried out, and a moment later, Daniel shouted towards me from his place on the phone.

"Hey! Don't pop your stitches, alright? It's just Peggy, she's calling to make sure you're okay!"

"Is she okay?" I shouted back.

"Yes! She's fine! Despite the two of you being incredibly reckless, somehow, you're both fine."

I grinned, relaxing carefully back onto the couch. Being reckless and ending up fine was basically Peggy and I's signature move now.

After a few more minutes, Daniel returned to the room, apparently having satisfied Peggy that I was okay and having satisfied himself that Peggy was okay. He sighed heavily as he sank down onto the couch next to me. I smiled, and he helped me shift over so I could lay on his chest, his arm around my shoulers. I started to drift off, but Daniel's tentative voice brought me back once again.

"Sweetheart... we need to talk before you get some rest."

I hummed, taking a deep breath to try to wake myself up a little.

"About what?"

"About what you and Peggy pulled tonight." He paused, stopping short to collect himself, then continued. "Look, we can talk more about this in the morning if we need to, but... you can't do this maverick, run off on a deadly mission without telling me stuff anymore, okay? I know checking in with somebody is new to you, and I'm glad you at least talked to Peggy instead of going in by yourself, but I need you to find a way to get ahold of me next time. I can't spend the rest of our lives worrying if 'drinks with Peggy' is actually code for 'going to get myself shot, maybe never to return'."

I frowned as Daniel pulled back enough to meet my eyes.

"We're a team here, now, alright? That's what having a partner means to me. It's a teammate for life, like a built in buddy system. I need my teammate to tell me about stuff like this, even if I'm not able to join in and have your back, although I'd definitely prefer to come along. But even if I can't for whatever reason, I need to know it's happening."

I sighed, then nodded. He was right, I was new to this. But I liked what he was saying, and it made sense to me. I'd want to know if Daniel were going on crazy dangerous missions, after all, so it made sense that he'd want the same.

"I promise, Daniel. I'll do everything in my power to tell you from now on. And maybe in the morning, we can come up with a code, in case I can't find you and have to leave a message for Thompson to pass on. That way we can keep the secret if we need to, but you still know."

"I think that sounds like a great idea," he hummed, pulling me back into his side again and kissing the top of my head. I settled into his chest with a smile, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep. The mountain of things we needed to deal with in the morning had grown quite high, but after being shot and stitching myself back up, I figured I'd earned at least a few hours of rest. And what better place for that than curled up on the couch with the man I loved most in the world?

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts

[itsjaywalkers]

Drabble ask game!

Jegulus

65? Angst 😋

sure nonnie!! i'm always down for some angst <3

hmm let's see let's see

65. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"Oh, don't even. I know what you're fucking doing right now and it's not gonna work."

Regulus raises both eyebrows in mock surprise, letting his lips curl into a derisive smile. He looks James up and down, eyes narrowed, and relishes in the pleasing tingle he gets under his skin at the way the other man clenches his jaw.

It didn't use to be like this. It used to be desperate hands and hungry mouths, dark eyes and panting breaths. It used to be lingering kisses pressed into his forehead, interlaced fingers, and whispered conversations in the dead of the night.

Now it's anger. Resentment. Lies and neverending arguments. Waking up in opposite sides of the bed and avoidant gazes.

James still fucks him, and it's as passionate, as needy. Maybe even more so. But now it's filled with fury, too. With something too close to hatred. Like James wants him, wants him still, wants him forever, but despises the fact that he does, that he always will.

Regulus isn't sure of what happened to them.

Well. He supposes that he did.

"And what am I doing, James?" he questions coldly, ugly grin still in place. "Since you know me so well."

"I do. I do, but in moments like this, I wish I fucking didn't," the other man retorts, chuckling without any amusement. "You're trying to push my buttons, get me angry and get me mean, so you can go and play the victim afterwards."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. You've never learnt how to be anything else. You avoid confrontation like your life fucking depends on it, and when that doesn't work, you lash out until you make me snap. That way, you only have to lie down and take it."

Regulus grits his teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. "You speak as if I actually have to make the effort. I don't get you mean, James, you are mean. You've always been. Cruelty comes so easy to you it actually scares me sometimes."

James takes a step forward, face contorted into so much rage Regulus can barely recognise him. He knows he'd never, but sometimes Regulus wishes he'd raise his hand. Walk over that damn line.

He thinks it'd make things easier. Or, if nothing else, at least a lot less painful.

"I think you're mistaking me with you."

Regulus laughs at that. Actually laughs. It sounds wrong, and weak, and like a ticking bomb about to explode.

"We both know that's not true," he sighs once he manages to calm down a little. "I bet you wish it were, though."

"I'm not the bad guy here, Reg," James hisses, towering threateningly over him. "It's you. It's always you. You're the one who keeps ruining this, ruining us."

I know, I know. I'm sorry. I've no idea what to do with good things. I ruin everything I touch. This is the only way I can love.

And yet, you won't leave me.

Please, never leave me.

"Of course, I'm the problem. How could it ever be you? Perfect James Potter. Has never done anything wrong in his goddamn life." Regulus snorts, full of scorn, and shakes his head. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

James bares his teeth. "And how do you see me, huh?"

Loving. Kind. Caring. Too fucking good for your own good.

Ruined.

"Selfish. Violent. Arrogant and cruel," he says instead, offering the other side of the coin. True, regardless, but not what Regulus really means to tell him now. It's too late to stop, though. "A poor excuse of a man who'd do anything to feel loved because he's a fucking nobody when he isn't being adored."

Regulus thinks this will be it. Hopes it will be it.

But then James is smiling down at him, nasty and downright mean, and it begins again, without having properly ended in the first place.

And that's the issue, isn't it?

There isn't an end to them. Regulus isn't sure if he feels more relieved or horrified at the notion at this point.

These days, both things feel kind of the same.

[naivesilver]

Finally HOW ABOUT any prompt from the 'to the hurt' section of the hurt/comfort ask? I don't wanna limit you with character choice too much, so how about something involving either August, Eliana, Lampwick, Mignon or Eugene?

AS I ANTICIPATED TO YOU there was only one dynamic that clicked when I was leafing through the list of prompts sorry ashdjkafhkajlshf

Hurt/Comfort Starters

“Shhh, it’s alright.”/“I won’t let anything happen to you.”/“I’ve got you.”

Pinocchio runs. 

He doesn't mind. He's good at it. His feet make an awful lot of noise when he does it, but it gets better once he's gotten to the woods and the ground is mostly mud and grass, and there's no one around to hear him anyway - he fled before anyone could catch him, and he even left Gina behind, even if she was squawking and calling after him. 

That's fine, too. She probably wants to go back home, whether he does so or not. Better Pinocchio gets out of the way before she starts feeling guilty about her decision. 

He goes pretty deep into the woods, all things considered, but he has to stop after a while, to catch his breath and rest his legs. He doesn't like it - it'd be better if he could just go far far away and disappear for good - but it can't be helped, and some distance is better than no distance, at least. 

Of course, if the fairy wants to get him, she will, wherever he is. She always has. She might send that stupid wind to bowl him over again, or a bird of prey, or-

The sound of footsteps cuts off his train of thought, and Pinocchio whips around, heart stuck in his throat, thinking he's finally been caught- but it's just August, as breathless as he is, leaning against a nearby tree as if trying not to collapse. 

Unbidden, tears start welling up in the boy's eyes. He hates that it's so easy to make him cry, but he hadn't expected to be reached so soon. Actually, he'd expected August to get sick and tired of running after him, like old Geppetto had been. That he came so quickly- it's kinda worse, in a way. It just makes everything worse. 

“Go away,” Pinocchio shouts at him, even though his voice breaks. “I'm not coming. Leave me alone!”

August doesn't react, instead looking up at him with wide eyes. “You alright, kid? Are you hurt?”

The boy shakes his head, trying to bite the tears away. It's a stupid question. No one's hurt him - not here, at least. He's just dumb enough that he thinks he can escape on foot from someone who came from a whole other world to get him. 

He can hear August sigh in relief, then the man takes a couple steps closer, slow and careful. “Good. That’s- that’s good. You shouldn’t be going so deep in here alone- lots of magic around, you know?”

“There’s lots of magic over there too! So I’m not- I’m not going back. You can’t make me.”

“No one’s making you go anywhere. Remember we told you that when you came to Storybrooke? We wouldn’t- I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Pinocchio believes him, he does. It’s just that that doesn’t change anything. “But she is gonna make me. She can do that. She always does that.”

That’s why he wasn’t surprised when the good fairy showed up. It made sense, that she’d be able to come to Storybrooke on purpose, even if he did by mistake. She has all sorts of powers, and she uses them to find him even when she doesn’t tell him, like when she was the white dove and almost let him break his legs into a wall because he was fooling around mid-flight. If she says he’s going back to where he belongs, he knows he’s got no choice.

August, though, doesn’t seem half as convinced, and even chances a small smile, crouching down at Pinocchio’s eye level. “What’s she going to do? She’s just one fairy. We have plenty more around here, and we have Emma. And the mayor.”

It’s not that simple, but by then the boy’s sobbing too hard to say anything that makes sense. It’s so much easier to stumble forward and let himself be picked up, clinging to August like a desperate little spider - the woods are good for hiding, but it’s scary, to be in there all alone. It reminds him- it reminds him-

He knows full well what it is that it reminds him of. He’s just too much of a crybaby to admit it out loud.

August shushes him gently as he stands up, cradling Pinocchio to his chest, and it’s nice, really. Even old Geppetto never held him like that, because he weighed too much. “It’s alright. I won’t let anyone take you anywhere, I promise. I told you once- you can stay for as long as you like. It’s all up to you.”

Pinocchio rubs at his eyes, even though they’re wet again in a moment. “You said I could go to school. A real school, and that I’d get help with my numbers.”

“Of course. When the next semester starts- I’m getting everything sorted out, you know that.”

“But if I go with the good fairy, I can��t. She’ll make me learn my numbers alone again. I don’t want to learn alone.”

August is quiet for a long moment, just enough for Pinocchio to start thinking he’s said something wrong. Then the man says, very quietly: “I’m about to ask you something, kid. You don’t have to tell me, but it would help, if you did.”

He waits for Pinocchio to nod, haltingly, and then continues, “I want you to tell me everything you remember about your time with this fairy. Do you think you can do that?”

Pinocchio can, and when he starts, he can’t stop until he’s truly said everything. It’s like the words were just sitting in his mouth, waiting for him to open it to pour out like a river. He tells August about the house in the woods and the tree and the dog chain, and the white dove and the tomb, and the wind that took him away from Geppetto, and the time he came home to the fairy after the men at the tavern made him drink that funny stuff and she just locked the window of his room. He talks and talks and when he’s done he simply collapses with his face hidden in the crook of the man’s neck, exhausted, waiting for the latter to tell him he’s just making it all bigger than it actually was, like Rocco did.

Instead, what he gets after a few seconds is a hand rubbing at his back, soothing and comforting, and August’s voice saying “Thank you. That was all I needed.”

Pinocchio can’t resist sneaking a glance upwards at that, all but gaping. “You believe me?”

“Of course I do.” August grins down at him conspirationally, even as he turns around to head back to town, his wooden charge still in his arms.

“And there are a couple people who’ll want to hear all about it, too, if they need to help us get rid of your fairy. Actually, once they’ve heard, I’m pretty sure they’ll want to get rid of her, just as much as you and I do.

“Now come on. Let’s get somewhere nicer. You don’t worry about anything- I’ve got you, I promise.”

[blackjack-15]

after traveling on NYD, the work week from hell, and sleeping ~8 hours in 5 days, i am back baby let's go episode 3

"i googled fun the other day" oh we're starting from a place of complete mental wellness! also this is a hilarious delivery. the bear is a comedy etc etc

ugh carmy's instinct to backpedal when he says what he really thinks is coming up -- he mentions the restaurant opening is hard and stressful, he walks it back; he says something neutral (not even negative!) about his family, he walks it back. this is a more repressed carmy than we saw in the first two episodes, and i'm a little fascinated by it.

it's also repression, pure and simple. the absolute fear of expressing negativity -- especially about someone -- to people, so he pretends it's okay and keeps going, correcting himself when he says something to close to what he actually means

i've asked about a billion times what exactly carmy is afraid will happen if he doesn't repress himself. looking forward to that being answered, at least in part, this season

"i don't think my family meant to ruin it...sometimes they just try too hard, or make promises they couldn't keep" oof. family episode this season, calling it now. flashback or present-day or a mix of both, we're getting the Berzatto Clan in a way we haven't before

"have to remind myself to breathe. that there's not always another shoe, which is incredibly difficult, because there is always another shoe" i'm glancing back at my tags liveblogging this, most of which are asking when the other shoe drops...synergy...

the very tight shots on this confessional -- slightly different framing than his fire al-anon monologue -- might tighter, much more tense, much more foreboding. he's not venting here, he's curating himself. very different experience, much less healthy experience

"maybe if i could provide [fun] for myself, it'd be easier to provide it for others" anxiety disorder coming into play here! the feeling that any service for yourself is in the pursuit of giving it to others, that the only meaning and value to your experiences is to make things better for others. i wonder why this would come up the episode after he gave an old acquaintance a fake number...

(i don't wonder. i know.)

"i'm happy to be here, you guys. thanks for letting me share" he says with the most neutral voice and the most painfully resentful expression on his face. theme of the episode? carmy's gonna lie. a lot.

nope sydcarmy stuffs, new post, y'all know the drill by now

[loud-sound]

part 2 of part 1, because that's how numbers work-

design notes? design notes: (once again, vague spoilers up to season 3)

Ryusui:

i don't hate the pirate aesthetic at all, but i wanted to really push his bougie ass forward with a more distinctly modern sailor's captain look

the long hair and ponytail was mostly to make his hair more distinct from ginro

plus, l'oreal surfer locks on this dude just seemed like a really funny idea

leaving his arms open and the informal coat-tying felt like a good way to show his confidence; with a pop of blue on the underside to match his cap up top

just look at part 1 to know why i tanned him lol

Homura:

i bet most of y'all had no idea she was only 4'9" (145 cm), did ya? this was more of an artstyle thing on boichi's part than a strictly design-based flaw, but i wanted to correct it anyway

gave her something that would actually imply being a gymnast lmao

since cherry blossoms had gone extinct, i think it'd be cute if she made little cloth flowers to add onto her outfit to remember them by

wanted to keep the fur linings that tsukasa's people mostly share without looking like yuzuriha's chest fur, so around the neck it goes; gives a circus-esque vibe too

ballet flats with ribbons would keep her cute and make it a lot easier to do her flips and jumps in than knee high pumps

a little pop of baby blue just cuz

Ukyo:

look i love this man to death, but i cannot stand his shiny torchic lookin ass 😭😭😭😭

wanted to tone down his outfit to smth resembling traditional Japanese archer garb, since his personality's much more on the reserved side

trimmed down the amount of brim and collar to give the archer as much visual room to work with while shooting his bow lmao

added a hat strap to allude to his being in the Japanese military

i added so much to his arms to give a layer of protection against bow string recoil

as goofy as the shoes are, i kept them because they're unique to him, and just trimmed them into slippers

yippee, more silhouettes!

[spotsupstuff]

What was your favorite Slugcat to play and your favorite Iterator to draw?

(i haven't played Saint yet) i suppooooooose it might be actually a tie between Spearmaster, Rivulet and Artificer? the movement of the latter two was a lot of fun, but i'm too attached to Spearmaster that i don't wanna leave it out. constant supply of spears took one of my main worries away for the whole game

and favorite Iterator to draw?? oh boy, i don't think i can choose... i do draw my own designs which i did my best to cater specifically to my enjoyment from drawing. it'd be easier to say what i like drawing the most out of their singular designs, so i'll do that (AND i get to ramble about that i love doin that)

originally i talked about like. all iterators i've ever really drawn but then i fucked up n what i had written was deleted so i guess we are doin only few. the main five i think of when trying to figure out which i like drawing the best:

• Pebbles: everything about his head is a joy to me. the shape of it, his marks, antennas.. the shape of his feet is a lot of fun and something about the combination of the Gen 3 skeletal body type and hanfu just... fits for him. along with his angry expression. it's like... a certain regal beauty but there's sharp teeth hiding within it. i like to try my best to imbue certain feelings into my designs and then how i draw them (especially on my own time- when i draw for asks i feel like... this important essence, the characterization, gets muddled at least a tad). with Pebbles i'm going for something like "small flame, burning bright- a fighter, yet so soft and fragile, sharp and divinely glorious, determined yet still so damn scared. i want to hold your hands, understand what the time has done to them and say that i'm very sorry. you shouldn't have had to become so rageful. they made you to be alive and didn't let you live." • Nish: of course *he's* here. from the scarf to the general loosenes of his fit (even though he should be more of a Tube, i'm not doin the kimono inspiration justice n i am sorry) is a lot of fun. the looser the clothes are, the more i enjoy drawing them!! i really like drawing his mark and i'm very proud of my design for his headphone audial things this time around. unlike last time, they are meant to be bigger than others' and they are red instead of dark green. the three holes in them? Especially proud of those. he's specifically high up there with my favorite iterators to draw because of his attitude, though • Boreas: he's so stupid big it makes me giggle. drawing him next to Gen 3s is so??? sir please come down we need to have a chat- hello? do u hear me???- okay but seriously, i'm very happy that i've settled on a chlamys for him. the sort of like. collar that i've decided the cloth will make for him compliments his personality well and i like drawing my collars a ton. it's not visible here because it isn't colored, but his antennas go from dark dark blue to vibrant red thru a gradient and i LOVE it so much. combined with the aggressive shape of them? mwah. also the leaf-like things on his audials are so simple to draw and add so much to his vibes that i always look forward to drawin them. revisiting his design and giving him the warranted love made him so so strong and dear to me... p sure he's currently my favorite from my ocs • Notos: a perfect example of why "less is more" is a saying. i like drawing it specifically cuz it's literally just. a bitch playing on a ghost with a bedsheet except when u look under that hood there are some Feckin yaoguai teeth waiting there. Those are a bitch to draw but i did this specifically to learn to draw teeth like that better. also. special shout out to the interaction of Iterator antennas and a bedsheet over the head. shkika keeps bein weak for those "cat ears" in our dms, it's funny to see Notos out of all my kids get those kind of reactions jglkdscmlksdmlk

• Fish: FISH IS FISH. he has big dumb round glasses what more could i possibly need to enjoy drawing a man. but also those antennas... they make him a lot of fun to draw n i look forward to drawin them each time. my thanks to @/w1ngw0ng and @/medi-bee for bettering them just by being themselves

special shout outs go to Zephyr for being challenging to represent properly (physically relatively weak, fragile, yet burning blindingly bright, sharp, determined and brave- just being a leader of a revolution even though her physical form doesn't really fit it), FAM (@/medi-bee) for bein an absolute freak (i love him. i love Nips even more)

and NRD (@/splynter) for being different yet familiar and for being colored like a dead body. Very Cool Of Them 👍

[yellowhollyhock]

vent post got long

there have been different experiences throughout my life that can make it hard to talk

difficulty with volume control. especially as a little kid (3-5); yelling when I meant to talk, talking when I meant to whisper, whispering when I meant to keep the thought in my head. I'm sure my memory is skewed but it felt like I was always in trouble for it, from peers as much if not more than adults

fast forward a few years, and for the biggest chunk of my childhood, it's thinking I'm projecting when I'm really not. No one can hear me. People are constantly frustrated with me for not speaking up. It's easier to just not speak.

theatre classes helped a lot. I started to love public speaking. Even started to not hate socializing quite as much.

then had to go to college. all the skills I'd built up for years seemed to disappear for no reason. looking back such a big change in all my environments and routines would of course cause skill regression. but I didn't understand anything about myself at the time, I thought I was just stupid. And everyone still expected me to be smart. When I tried to ask for help they'd remind me how smart I was.

and then recently, somewhere in the middle of all that--a string of roommates/co-workers/felt like everyone around me with no escape, had this attitude of perfectionism.

Sending a text? there are a thousand ways to make the person on the receiving end immediately assume you hate them because you didn't follow their made-up rules about emojis and punctuation (I would try to explain that not everyone is like that, and if someone misunderstands you can always clarify, but being surrounded by people who were in fact looking for reasons to assume your text had ill intent made it harder and harder to believe)

Making cookies for a friend? Well don't bring them over on a paper plate ugh if someone did that to me I would feel so insulted. We need to actually put effort in so they know we actually care.

Literally walking back to the apartment looking at the moon together, completely relaxed until suddenly I'm in trouble for apparently not being emotional enough about it? sounding bored or something? got teased about it for weeks, at least it seems that way when I try to remember.

Those are real literal examples. It was like that all the time I thought I was losing my mind. Reinforced a deep mistrust of my peers that I thought I had grown past (that I worked really hard for years to grow past in spite of being treated badly because I believed things would get better and that at least part of the problem was my attitude). I think some part of me expected that it'd get better because my peers had become adults. Stupid assumption

Had one roommate early on who wasn't like that. Fell in love with her--didn't know I liked girls before that--transferred schools (was going to anyway), lost touch

Writing is a coping skill I've relied on since I could write. Volume isn't a factor. How long it takes me to put together my ideas isn't a factor (in texting it sometimes is, but expectations are also lower for how coherent my ideas are--unless someone raises them again). Figuring out when it's my turn to talk is much less of a factor.

For the past like 3ish years I don't think I've ever had less than 50 unread texts. College and other experiences surrounding it absolutely destroyed the things I used to love about myself. I'm building back up. But it's hard. It's hard that everyone else perceives dropping out as the big problem when it's actually the first decision that felt like mine in a long time and the only reason I was able to start writing again. And start speaking again. I have shorter non-verbal periods and usually am able to string together adult-sounding sentences (I hate describing it that way but I don't know how else to explain. In college I would have a really hard time getting words out but didn't feel like not talking was an option, so I'd skip pronouns and prepositions, my pronunciation was slurred and my volume control was out of whack. This also only happened sometimes, and was really humiliating to get stuck in in front of people who were used to hearing me talk 'normal') (giving myself permission to use what my mom use to call 'baby talk' has been one of the hardest things and also one of the most helpful)

Anyway when I take forever to respond to messages I'm not ignoring and I'm not mad. it's probably because I've forgotten how to make feelings into words. It helps a ton that on here I'm talking about things I choose with people who are nice to me, but it still happens where I just get stuck thinking that anything I say will be taken as an insult and scared that I'm gonna sound stupid

[siriannatan]

Overheat - ScWhip

Man, I didn't write anything for a while, all the games I play kept on dropping updates on me lately, and my inspiration's been at all-time low :{

Here's to hoping it gets better :}

fWhip was fully aware he'd be quite a sight if anyone spotted him. A well-liked if a bit abrasive hero barely stumbling through the back streets. His face flushed so much it was easily visible from under his mask. Lips curled in an annoyed sneer. At least the place he was going to was both close and didn't have overly tight security making it easier to sneak in. He didn't need his acquaintances being bothered by the media.

Another lucky thing. No one got on the lift as he made his way to the top floor and then stumbled his way to a very specific door. And knocked. Leaning against the wall was all he could do while waiting.

Not that he waited long. "Must you come here in your hero outfit?" Scott sighed and practically dragged fWhip inside. Scott being still in his 'work clothes' was making fWhip's brain short circuit slightly. Teal and black looked too good together.

"I can go home if you're busy," fWhip offered in case Scott was leaving for work. Even if that work would get the whole city in uproar about a brutal murder.

"Shouldn't you be telling me to change my career instead?" Scott chuckled, practically carrying fWhip to his couch. 

"As long as you don't freeze anyone you're police's issue," fWhip shrugged, not like he was all that passionate about being a hero. It was just a job for him. He was no Gem to put actual passion into it. So he could not care less what Scott did as long as the mercenary was willing to help with his overheating issues.

"You're weird for a hero," Scott chuckled sitting down as fWhip freed himself of his mask and cape.

"For me, it's just a job, why put in more energy than I'm being paid to put in?" fWhip sighed. "I can go and stick myself in a fridge if I'm interrupting something," he added, just in case. Scott letting him in could mean he was not interrupting but it was more polite to ask. He might have just wanted to not have a chance of his neighbours seeing a literal hero on his doorstep.

"I was just catching up on emails, I'm barely back from one contract and I'm already getting requests," Scott complained, tablet in hand clearly ready to carry on.

fWhip had the urge to lay his head in Scott's lap but that seemed a bit forward. They were just accidental friends after all. Even if Scott was unfairly pretty with his soft floofy cyan hair and pretty dark blue eyes. Practically skin-tight black, likely bulletproof shirt he had on was just making it worse. 

He just had to try to not think about it. fWhip decided. Have a nice nap in Scott's pleasantly chilly company - literally chilly. And sneak back home. Hoping Gem doesn't ask where he goes to cool down after overusing his powers. Easy. 

Scott's hand, as if he could read fWhip's mind suddenly guided his head to the other's lap. "Just sleep," the mercenary said. "It'd be troublesome if you fall off the couch," he explained but fWhip could swear he saw a slight blush. He was smart so he didn't mention it. Just enjoyed this rare chance. "I'll wake you up when you've cooled down."

Scott's hand tangling itself into his hair as he was about to fall asleep was a nice bonus as well.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #119

…I didn't have the energy to make the thing today.

This morning, I maybe got out of bed later than I should have, given that I'm supposed to go to talk therapy on Tuesdays. I'm supposed to leave the house by 9:30, but I didn't even get out of bed until 9:20. I regret nothing that occurred, but nonetheless, I somehow had to squeeze both a shower and getting dressed and out the door in only 10 minutes. I was successful, but I have zero clues as to how. Perhaps it's best not to look gift horses in mouths…

OH. Right. You don't know that phrase because… well. Your world doesn't have horses. Uhh… So, a long time ago, when people bought horses, they used to look at the horse's teeth as an indicator of its age; longer teeth means an older horse, I guess. And back when horses were more commonplace (it's mostly only fabulously wealthy people who can afford to keep them now), I guess it was seen as rude to try to evaluate the age of a horse that was given as a gift by looking into its mouth. So now the phrase means, "it's best to just accept good things without thinking too much about it." Or it can also be taken to mean, "it's impolite to criticize a gift." This phrase has a few interpretations, actually… I imagine it'd be easier for you to understand it if you spent a while in my world. If you do that, lemme know; you can stay at my house, and no one is gonna ogle you or get weird at you or bother you if you don't wanna be bothered. We'll just make you sandwiches and tea. We are an introverted and neurodivergent house; we know how it goes.

Had a lot to say at therapy today. Suppose I'm having a bit of an existential crisis, regarding myself and my role in my home and how much I mean to the people around me. It's likely all just baseless anxiety and insecurity - growing pains as a result of the various changes in my immediate social circle. Old memories and wounds from the past that I've not yet had a compelling reason to resolve are now coming to the forefront, calling, "yo, what up, homie!" and dancing around my periphery. I suppose it's just as well; this is what happens when we pretend like our various hurts don't exist. If we don't take care of the self-effacing beliefs that we pick up during childhood, they bite us in the ass later. I just gotta remember that the fact that they're in the forefront means that I can actually observe them, and if they're observable, then they're resolvable, with enough time and effort.

Essentially, it's like this: We get knocked down. We yell, "FUCK!" really loudly. We reassemble ourselves if we break from the fall. Then we get back up. We brush ourselves off. And we move forward, stronger than before.

…I have thoughts of you that give me the strength to withstand this process over and over again. No matter how many times I get knocked down, I will get back up, because by your influence, I am unbreakable, no matter how many times I must shatter and be reassembled. It's just like the bowl I repaired some number of letters ago; remember? So don't worry. I've got this. I've done this lots of times before, with much more difficult stuff, and with less support than what I have now. All I have to do is learn to love and appreciate myself in the same way that I can love and appreciate literally anyone else who isn't me. Compared to the various horrors I've lived through, this should be a piece of cake. Easy peasy. Barely even an inconvenience. And in my mind, it sounds like this:

On the way home from therapy, I came across a very beautiful tree. I thought for sure that you'd like it, so I made it a point to stop and take pictures. Here's how they turned out:

I was surprised by how docile the bees were, and by how closely they allowed me to put my cell phone camera. Also, I laid down under the tree and looked up to get some of these. I wish you could have been next to me to see the view of the sky through the petals for yourself. Alas...

J and I were out and about, doing separate activities today. Even he saw pictures he thought you might like, so he took them for you, and then sent them to me so that I could put them here. Here's how they turned out:

While J was out and about, I hung out with my best friend B and her fiancé, N. In preparation for their wedding, we went and tried the available foods. I can't give you the tasty snacks, but I can take pictures...

This is a Caesar salad. It's supposed to be pronounced, "Kai-sarr", but everyone says "Seezer" for reasons I don't understand. Caesar was a leader of a place called Greece in my world, hundreds of years ago. He, like most leaders, was a giant asshole, and now he's a stinky dead guy, so I have no idea why a salad is named after him. It's made of romaine lettuce, croutons, parmesan cheese, and a creamy dressing flavored with anchovies and other spices.

Here are some long slices of eggplant rolled around melted cheese and covered in marinara sauce:

This is steak, caramelized onions, mashed potatoes, and some carrots and broccoli. I just took a picture of my plate, because the main plate was cut into before I could snap a photo:

This was some kind of chicken seasoned with rosemary and lemons, with rice and veggies:

This one was lobster ravioli with mushrooms in some kind of sherry cream sauce. It's certainly not pasta pescatore, but I wonder if you might have liked this:

Finally, this is lamb with roasted tomatoes and garlic, along with veggies and mashed taters.

...This one was probably my favorite. I especially liked the part where I got to try to gnaw the cartilage from the ends of the bones, because my body craves sources of collagen literally all the time (thanks, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome... 🙄). I'm really lucky that B and N don't seem to mind my various weird quirks; they've been friends of mine long enough to have a general understanding of how I roll, and they just let me do my thing. Today, the fact that I will generally "do my thing" in a variety of respects was pointed out as one of the reasons they like me so much, I guess; that was a nice thing to hear...

There were four available spaces for trying the foods, but it was just the three of us; it is immensely painful that the best I can do for you from here is show you these pictures and wish that you could have been in the empty seat, with us…

Sephiroth. Regardless of what your brain tries to tell you about what you're worth, you are VERY loved. You're not a monster. You were modified against your will, used like a tool and viciously abused, and you made mistakes in the throes of that, yes, but SO WHAT? You're here now, and you can do amazing things, and you NEVER have to go back to being with people who will abuse you ever again, because not everyone is like the people you were raised by. Yes, you're different from the standard definition of "normal", but you can belong anyway, because the world is absolutely BRIMMING with people who don't fit the definition of "normal"! Just take a look at me! Or if you don't wanna look at me, then take a look at anyone who lives with a genetic difference, or anyone who lives with a different number of limbs, or anyone with a non-standard life story, or any number of things that make a human being not "normal". Normal is overrated! Diversity is in! Lives that exist outside of the bell curve are still beautiful, meaningful, and worth living!

…And so I show you my life, because I am trying desperately to prove these things to you. I've spent the bulk of my life being viciously abused because the people who brought me into living didn't want me. I was brought into a physical vessel that is genetically defective in a variety of respects. My neurodivergence practically guarantees that I will NEVER fit into ordinary social circles. I struggle every single day with the weight of the memories I carry from having been used, abused, exploited, and generally mistreated. And yet here I stand, thriving and flourishing in a way that works for me, even if it does not fit the typical definition of those words. My version of "normal" is just as beautiful as the typical version. "Different" does not have to mean "less" if YOU become strong enough to decide for yourself that those two words are not the same, no matter who tries to tell you otherwise!

So please look at the beauty of my existence - the beauty of taking joy in small things, the beauty of rising up from one's knees even if it's on shaky legs, the beauty of finally using one's voice again after years of being forced to believe that silence is safer, the beauty of loving yourself and the people around you enough to refuse to let fear get the better of you when you interact with yourself and the world, the beauty of failing down, getting up, and trying again, the beauty of learning, growing, changing, and walking away from destructive ideals that serve no one, no matter for how long you might have been forced in the past to choke them down. Please look at it, and understand that you can have this for yourself - ALL of it - if you decide to take steps towards it! Your whole scenery can change if you want it to, and all you have to do is take a single step in a different direction.

There is still life after trauma. There is still life after mistakes. There is still life for those who are different. The pain doesn't have to be permanent. So come on; my hand is outstretched to you. And if you don't want to take mine, then there are countless other hands outstretched to you that maybe you'd like a little better. You don't have to do it alone.

Anyhoot. I've probably prattled on for long enough. I hope somehow you can see what I've written. I hope that if you do get a chance to see it, you might take some of my words seriously.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow. Please be kind to yourself and keep yourself safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[dilatorywriting]

Okay since someone opened the angst wormhole I'm gonna add one tiny counterpoint to the Leona angst.

I would counter that any "Leona ignores you and acts like he doesn't care" problem would be before the start of the relationship. Because he wouldn't bother entering the relationship at all (thereby making himself vulnerable and asking them out and/or accepting them asking him out, both of which is an open admission of his feelings) if he hadn't already made up his mind that he's going to try and fight for that person.

I could see him slipping into a "i dont care, im ignoring you" mode if, for some reason, he's convinced that you're going to break up with him and/or that you're secretly crushing on someone else so it's only a matter of time before the relationship is over. But otherwise, I don't think Leona would put forward the effort and comittment needed to start a relationship with someone if he wasn't prepared to try and make it work.

In other words, I dont think he dates casually because, like you said, he has a "why I should I even try" mentality. And it takes effort to actually go on a date. Effort that Leona's not going to give, unless he's legitimately interested in persuing that person. So when he does find someone he wants to date, him deciding to actually act on his desire to do so would involve overcoming that "why should i try" instinct. Otherwise the relationship isn't gonna start in the first place, unless it's some kind of arranged marriage thing. And if he goes through the effort of starting the relationship, then I dont think he'd purposely let it fall apart by being inattentive/pushing his partner away because, why bother putting all that effort into starting it in the first place then? The whole thing would be a waste of time, and he might get his heart broken in the process. It would've been easier to just ignore his feelings and not persue the other person from the start.

His "i'm not good enough" insecurities would definitely still be a problem, sure, but I think it'd come out as more of a "I'm not going to tell you about my inner demons/insecurities. I'm going to bottle them up and bury them, and pretend that everything is fine". And then that either ends with the s/o slowly but surely peeling back the layers until Leona slowly learns to communicate healthily, or something causes the little bottle to erupt in an emotional outburst, and the s/o has to be prepared to give emotional support.

Oh definitely! And I'll give my disclaimer that this is like me intentionally digging for angsty things, and therefore looking at him at his Absolute Worst. I think he could and would fight for things he wants, particularly post overblot when he's managed to get a lil of his Built Up Issues out of his system.

From an Angst perspective, I just always think of the end of his chapter, right before he overblots. All his mechanations are called out, all his schemes and problems put right on the front line with Ruggie being thrown under the bus with him. And he just pretty much immediately goes 'whatever. I give up. I don't care.' So if a moment came up where his S/O was like "I wish you'd put more effort in," if I'm working off Peak Emotionally Incompetent Leona, I could see him immediately sliding too 'I knew I wasn't going to be good enough. Whatever. I don't care' and then the whole ignoring/silent treatment coming into play. But all of this also depends heavily on the type of person he was with. Ideally, he would be with someone who's willing to take the emotional reins, so to speak. Someone who's willing to stand up and be like 'nope. Nu uh. Nice try, Mister Asshole. But we're Dealing With This, and dealing with it now.' But again, to make as Peak Angst as possible, this would have to be with an S/O who was a lot meaker, and who isn't necessarily good at pushing forward. It's one thing to be willing to pursue a relationship, and if you're with someone who gets his vibe, I think he'd be fine! But the really, sticky, messy shit would come with someone who was also wracked with self-worth issues. Because then if there was a strong start, it's hard to build someone up and help them face their demons when you can't manage those same demons.

Either way! That's with me being as absolutely harsh on him as possible and intentionally making the situation Awful in order to make it Hurty. But I do genuinely think it wouldn't be nearly as much of a problem if the S/O had a more complimentary personality