#and instead of actually fixing the bugs they just make it worse

[cvntoid]

Getting The Poison Out

in which you’ve been acting up all fucking day and Joel has to put you back in your place with a punishment tailored to fit the crime.

——

under the cut (a little something new): serious daddy kink/ddlg vibes, rough spanking, pet names, lots of crying, some dubcon vibes, fingerfucking, pussy eating, PIV sex, creampie, aftercare.

——

It’s been miles with this fucking clicking sound.

You sigh, heavy, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and not be irritating - though you can feel it, a ball of growing frustration and annoyance that just hasn’t gone away in - what? 50 miles? 75, 100? Does it really matter?

Joel’s stopped a couple times now to check things over - yes, the check engine light is on. That’s typical - he’s good at working with machines, good at fixing a problem. Good with his hands. You stare out the window and, feeling like a fucking kid in a coming-of-age movie and not a fully grown adult with an attitude problem, you lean your forehead against the passenger window and stare. The clouds outside are fluffy, the sky a deep, open blue, the kind that isn’t tinted and dusty with pollution. It’s like a photograph. Soft, open fields, yellowing with the deep summer sun. Windows slightly cracked to allow in the fresh air. Abandoned, broken fences, wandering animals, dusty roads and those shimmering phantom pools in the distance that disappear the closer you get, a trick of the heat on the asphalt. You imagine dipping a toe into it, the toe of your dirty boot trying to dip into a glittering, morphing puddle and finding the stiff barrier of cracked road and dirt. Reverie over.

“That noise,” you grumble.

Joel grunts. He barely spares you a glance, glaring stonily ahead, focused on your destination. It should be coming close now, actually - some place in some barely-existent town you have to spend the night in, somebody’s spare room. Something Joel needs to collect. The hot air blows through the cracked window, through loose hairs you didn’t tie up, and you’re grateful for the sweat dripping down the back of your neck and all along your hairline.

“What the hell is that fuckin’ noise,” you grumble at the window, your own breath fogging it up. In a fit, you rub it out, putting a smear on the glass. It only annoys you further and you fix yourself eyes-forward, glaring out the windshield instead. It’s dented, cracked a little in the corner. Smeared with fucking bugs.

“M’not gunna talk to ya when you’re like that. It’s unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant,” you repeat sourly, the taste of the word in your mouth making your mood worse. You eye Joel out of the corner of your eye and the crease in his brow, the distinctive frown in his lips, well - that just serves to piss you off even more. “Well, sorry about that.”

“Ain’t sorry.”

“What?”

“Ya ain’t sorry,” he repeats slowly, loudly. He finally turns to look at you, brows drawn. He looks exhausted. Well who isn’t, right? Fuck. Fucking - you turn and look out the windshield again, beating your own pervasive guilt down by counting rusty old street signs, some of them so worn or vandalized you can barely guess where you’re at. The end of the goddamn world.

You choose to not answer Joel at all, or even acknowledge him, instead choosing to marinate in your own irritation and slight guilt. It’s not hard to do… it’s been a long day, and Joel’s been carting both of you in this fucking hot truck for hours, stopping occasionally to check on whatever might be going on. Apparently it could mean something or nothing at all. All you know is that the sound of it is grating, and Joel’s complete absence of commentary - as usual - is somehow bad today. Everything feels bad. Everything feels like a big, heavy chore, weighing you down, and you actively know you’re being unpleasant - he’s right. But facing that fact seems impossible in the face of your own displeasure.

You’re only human, right?

What-fucking-ever.

Joel’s not apparently as willing to give it up as you might have thought. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shoot you a glance - a glare, likely. It makes you feel justified in some weird way, but mostly it makes you even more miserable.

“Actin’ like a fuckin’ brat.”

Well, there it is - can’t ignore that, can you?

“Excuse me?”

“Y’heard me, kid. Actin’ like a goddamn brat. Spoiled little baby.”

“Oh, so - ” at first you ball your fists, but then you explode your fingers open in a stupid little display, throwing them up in defeat, scoffing, huffing, acting exactly like he’s describing and only getting angrier that he’s right. You want nothing more than for this trip to be over, for you to be able to lie in a bed and sweat there instead of this fucking truck, but here you are, going through hell with Joel. Knowing exactly how you’re being and having no intention of quitting anytime soon, your better sense be damned. “So, I’m a baby, huh?”

“Mmm. Reckon so.”

The next several miles are spent in silence, your burning, impotent rage filling you up until you can feel your own angry flush on your cheeks. No matter how long you stave off from looking toward Joel - which you do as subtly as you can, staring ahead and flicking your eyes toward him only once in a while - his expression never seems to change. It’s the same stoic, pinched brow, the set in his jaw that makes you want to (lick it) scream at him.

Joel pulls down a gravelly road, dust pluming up behind the tires. The air is clouded with it, but there isn’t a fucking thing either of you can do about all that. Joel glances your way as if daring you to bitch and moan about it, and for a shining moment, you consider it. You really consider it, licking your lips, going as far as to open your mouth, but ultimately you stare miserably out the window and watch the dust fly.

Up ahead, there’s a little property - a small house with another, smaller one sitting kitty-corner on the lot. Joel pulls over beside another beat up, dusty car and shoots you a look.

“Wait here,” he says simply, grabbing a duffel bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’re you doing? Why can’t I go?”

Joel simply shuts the door on your questions, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips as he turns and walks up to the house, knocks on the door. A man glances over at the truck and allows Joel inside. You slump down in your seat with an impatient sigh and play with a frayed edge on your shirt, feeling the weight of the pout in your expression but doing nothing to fix it. Who cares.

He comes back and you’re standing outside the truck, leaning against the passenger door. You open it back up and he gives you a curt shake of the head.

“Stayin’ here tonight. Get your shit.”

“Yeah, let me just grab all my luggage,” you mumble sarcastically.

“You’d do well to be a little more grateful,” Joel snaps, and his tone makes you look up at him for a second, a little twinge of fear blinding the irritation you’ve felt all day long. He looks angry and even a little disgusted, and it makes you feel even worse. “Gunna stay in that little house over there for a night or two. My friend up there doesn’t have to do that for us, but he is. Now fix your fuckin’ bad attitude. Should be apologizin’.”

“I haven’t needed a daddy in a long time, Joel, and I don’t need one now,” you snap, slinging your bag over your shoulder and slamming the truck’s door a little too hard. You turn and glower toward the house, more of a shack than anything but still a sight for sore eyes - and sore backs. If there’s actually a bed in there, you might just cry.

After you both deposit your bags on the bed, you sigh and swipe a hand over your forehead, working to open each and every window while grumbling.

“Fucking hot in here,” you mumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child as you look out the bedroom window. Insects buzz and chirp outside.

“Y’ain’t gunna quit, huh?” Joel’s glaring, and he nods toward the mattress, snapping his fingers. “Get on the bed.”

“What?”

“On the bed. Now. On your belly.”

There’s a brief moment of pause in which you’re both staring at each other. Joel sighs impatiently and comes to you, his big hands reaching for your pants. The moment you try to block him out he lightly slaps your hands away.

“Stay still, kid. Fuckin’ gunna do it m’self for ya - what’s new,” he says, voice dangerous and low. He sounds pissed. He makes quick work of the button, the zipper, and yanks them down your thighs, looping his thumbs into your panties to take them down all at once. He shoves you so that you lie on your back and then your fight-or-flight kicks in a little, and he has to grunt and struggle to get your legs under control to rip your jeans clean off your legs. “Be fuckin’ still. Quit squirmin’.”

“Joel, stop -” You wriggle a little up the mattress, lifting up on your elbows to scoot away.

Instead of answering you, Joel yanks your ankle and you’re sliding down again, on your back, the tiniest yelp leaving your lips as your face flushes. It’s embarrassing, Joel seeing you like this - no bottoms to speak of, completely bare to him while you kick and half-heartedly struggle; but there’s a little give, there, isn’t there? A part of you that likes it. That likes the feeling of his calloused fingers hooking underneath the soft, silky flesh behind your knee to keep you in place, his eyes roving over your nudity, your bare pussy.

Joel grabs your hips with purpose and flips you easily to your belly, climbing up onto the mattress himself until it’s dipped beside you. He has one large, warm hand on the small of your back, anchoring you there.

“Been a goddamn brat and a pain in my ass all day long. I know exactly how to take care of a little fuckin’ brat.”

His other hand is warm on your ass, but now, everything is clicking into place and you squirm a little again, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel, you - you can’t.”

“Sure fuckin’ can, and I will. Y’gunna stay nice and still for me so we can get this over with, hear me? Gunna listen to me for once.”

The first slap stings. The sound you make is mostly out of disbelief, your eyes widening as they train on the scratched old wall behind the headboard. There’s a nightstand, to the side there, a candle on an old, yellowed doily. Joel’s hand comes down again, harder, and this time you hold your breath. There’s a drawer - you wonder idly if there’s a bible in there.

If this is happening, you’re going to have to hold out. Not think about it too much, even though your face is already flushing. It can’t be that bad, not really - right? He’ll get it out of his system and it will be over. Joel wouldn’t really hurt you. He wouldn’t. He -

The next slap is followed immediately by more, raining down against your ass so that it really starts to fucking sting, and there you are - spine arching up a little, feet kicking again, but he has you. He holds you down against that mattress and it’s not even a contest; he’s so strong, so sure of himself, and he grunts and clucks his tongue at you.

“Y’ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Gunna take it all for me. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”

His callouses skate over your warm, tingling flesh and it kind of hurts. You’re already starting to hyperventilate as he raises that palm up again, body screaming with anticipation before he slaps one ass cheek and then the other. He repeats this, over and over, harder with each go.

It’s only minutes - it can’t be longer than a few minutes of this before you’re squealing under him. Your breath hitches in your throat and the tears come so fast it’s dizzying, sniffling as you press your hot face into the mattress and wring your fingers into the sheets.

“Joel, please - I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bawl.

“Mmm. Betcha you are. Not sorry enough, though - not yet, kiddo.”

“N-no, wait -”

“Deep breaths, honey,” he interrupts, and fuck - he sounds tender, his voice heavy with something. Something you’ve never heard in his tone before, a deep, pleasant rumble that is so unlike the way he continues to spank your ass raw. “C’mon; in, out. Good girl.”

Joel hums as you sob and twitch and writhe, nowhere to go while he punishes you. It feels like your tender flesh is going numb and becoming more tender with each pass, somehow, all that sensation mingling together impossibly until your mind is screaming with panic each time his hand lifts up. When he takes his hand off your lower back and there’s a moment of peace, you don’t even move. You just shudder and hiccup, hands shaking. The clink of his belt, the sound of a zipper. His deep groan and then a hot, slick feeling against your ass cheek.

Joel’s cock. He rubs the leaking, fat head of his cock over all that burning, welted expanse. It hurts. It makes your stomach flip. He does that for a moment and then his fingers are gently probing between your thighs. Even with them pressed together, he works himself where he wants to go, parting your slit and feeling you there.

“You’re soaked,” he mumbles.

“S-Sorry, Daddy,” you whine. Oh, god, his scoff of a laugh.

“Thought you didn’t need no daddy, remember?” After a beat in which you’re too humiliated and confused to answer, Joel’s humming again, pushing one thick finger inside of your cunt, then two. “S’okay. Normal for baby girls to get wet for their daddies after a hard spankin’. But we ain’t through - not yet. Just a little more.”

He clucks his tongue again and shushes you as you whimper a weak protest.

“None of that. Be good. Be good for Daddy, sweet thing. Little more.”

The rest of the spanking is so much more intense; there’s been a moment to cool down, to start relaxing away from the sharp, burning pain of it all, and it’s so fucking rough going all the way back to 100 after that. His fingers are wet with your own fluids and it makes the spanking worse, somehow. He goes out of his way to press his broad palm right up against your cunt, grinding the heel of it so that your wetness covers his skin. He delivers the hardest slap yet with that hand, a deep, predatory sound coming up from his chest. It scares you. The fear is fleeting, however, as the hot wave of blinding pain rushes up your spine and it’s almost like you’re whiting out, just for a second. Tiny, glittering sparkles waver in and out of the edges of your vision for that moment before they burn out like fireflies, and you realize that you’re moaning, wailing. It’s like your hearing comes back into focus, your mind viciously slamming back into your own body after Joel nearly beat it out of you.

You’ve never shaken this hard before, not really. Not from anything like this.

Joel’s cock is back against your ass and it stings so fucking bad when he drags his slippery cockhead over his own welted handprints. He strokes himself and the sound of it is so lewd, seemingly louder than your own choked sobs.

“Hurts pretty bad, huh, darlin’? I’m sorry I had to do that to you,” he says, and his voice is still that deep, low tone, but instead of anger, there’s a kind of tenderness there. A warmth. “Understand why Daddy had to give you a lickin’ though, don’t you?”

“Yes…” The word barely comes out whole, drawn high and shuddering like your gasps.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy, I - I’m… I’m s-sorry fuh-f-for -”

“Shush, now - no more’a that. Just let Daddy make you feel good, babygirl. Mean part’s over.”

Joel fits those long, big fingers back against your cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circles. Gentle - lovingly, almost. He does this for a long few moments while you catch your breath, murmuring little words of praise. Done so good for me. Just breathe. Good girl. Go ahead, let it out; give it all over to your Daddy. And soon enough, you’re throbbing, rocking back a little against his touch. His cock rests against the back of your thigh and you focus on the way it pulses against you, little twitches. It’s dripping, there, a hot, slippery gathering of it on your skin. Feels so warm. So do you. Your face, your aching cunt, your poor, abused ass.

Joel leaves your clit and his hands are gingerly at your waist, helping you to roll to your back as he gazes down at you.

“I know, I know. Know it’s all sore. Lemme make it better.”

God, he’s gorgeous. Big, broad, his heavy cock freed from his jeans and visibly throbbing. His eyes are so soft and heavy-lidded, licking his lips as he parts your thighs and gazes down at your pretty, pink pussy, open and swollen like some delicious little gift, like ripe fruit. Just for him.

“Baby… oh, lookit you. All this for me, huh?” Joel pushes his fingers slowly inside, crooking them to nudge against that spot inside that makes you gasp, makes your spine arch just a little bit. “That’s it - so good.”

Joel leans down between your thighs until you feel his breath against your molten, waiting flesh, his fingers still working that spot inside of you. He drags the flat of his tongue up the open seam of your cunt and moans, losing himself in the act of worshipping you like this. Making it all better - what a good Daddy. Maybe you can be good, after all. You could.

You allow your eyes to slide shut as you rock your hips against his ministrations, already so embarrassingly close for him. He inhales through his gorgeous nose and hums in pleasure, taking in your scent - that’s what he’s doing. Fuck. This realization pushes you even closer and there it is - the slow roll over the edge, falling down into that star-filled wave that has you gasping.

“Daddy, I’m fucking - oh, my god, it’s so - it’s -”

Joel only moves a little faster, a little deeper, milking your climax for everything it’s worth. He doesn’t want to put you off track, doesn’t want to fuck up the trajectory. The way your cunt flutters and twitches around his fingers makes him squeeze his free hand around the base of his cock, groaning, forcing himself to wait. He wants to take all of it from you - it’s his, after all. It’s all for Daddy.

When your loud moans melt off into sweet, keening little whimpers, Joel pulls away, sucking his fingers clean and steadying his hands up underneath your knees, pushing gently forward until you’re bent in half.

“Gunna be a lot, little girl,” he murmurs, eyes on yours. He grinds his hips and the weight of his body hovering over yours, his dick on your pussy, the sheer pressure of the thick head as he presses it up against your hole has you scared all over again. “Might hurt a little, but it’s a good hurt. Ready for Daddy? Wanna hear it.”

“… yes.”

“You know what I need to hear. Try again.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m… ready for you.” Oh, you sound so pathetic, so small and nervous. Your big, shining eyes, lashes still wet. Lips all pink and parted like your beautiful slit.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” Joel sinks his cock inside little by little, thrusting shallowly in and out to gather your own mess all over his length. Easing the passage the best he can, memorizing the way your brows draw together and you wince with each passing inch. “Daddy’s gotcha. Daddy’s gotcha…”

He whispers it like a mantra as he reaches up to tenderly wipe new tears from your eyes. They gather there, big fat drops that roll silently down the sides of your temples to wet your hairline.

It’s not hard to melt you against him, and he shifts, bending you just a bit further now that he can sheath his long, thick cock all the way inside. It grinds softly up against your cervix as he waits there a beat, hissing a breath through his clenched teeth as he enjoys the slight discomfort of your tight little pussy around him.

“Fuck, honey… y’perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his hips. He works into a new rhythm, knowing he won’t be able to last long. Not with you all pressed beneath him and whining with all that flush on your cheeks, down your chest. That spray of freckles glow against the fever-spots of your cheekbones and Joel stills himself only for a moment, lest he cums on the spot. Just a little more. Just a little fucking longer.

By the time he absolutely can’t hold it in anymore, his heavy balls bouncing off the warm flesh of your ass, he reaches up to stroke your face. He pushes a thumb between your lips and there’s not a single word exchanged; you take him in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck. You wrap your hands around his strong forearm as if to keep him there, and you suppose it’s true - the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue is intoxicating. Soothing.

Joel looks as though he’s in agony, and then he’s fucking into you hard enough that he can feel your teeth on this thumb as you lose focus, and fuck - you’re cumming for him again. It’s gorgeous, the sound of your tortured moans as it catches you by surprise, fingers trembling and digging into him a little. There’ll be tiny, crescent-shaped hints of your nails there later on, and he’ll run his lips over them when you’re not paying attention.

Joel grunts with each brutal thrust and finally the pressure bursts. He pumps his cum as deeply as he can, bodies flush together until you’re squirming.

“Be good, baby, you c’n take it - fuck, let Daddy fill you up…”

Joel sounds like an animal as he shoots his load in thick, hot ropes. He’s so utterly deep that if you focus, you can feel each little spurt right up against your battered cervix, each contraction as he empties his balls into you. He hangs down low enough that you manage to push up and kiss the bridge of his nose. A shiver runs up his spine and gasps, nuzzling mindlessly into it.

He unfolds your legs, slowly bringing them back down before he pulls out of your body and lies beside you. You’re both panting, and Joel traces his fingers over the ball of your shoulder as you come down in the comfortable silence. You’ve never felt this exhausted in your life. You can’t seem to muster any energy at all, eyes slipping shut. All there is are the sounds outside the window, Joel’s even breathing, the almost imperceptible rasp of his rough fingers on your soft skin.

“Feelin’ better? …get all the poison out?” His voice, so soft for once. You nod and he exhales an amused little laugh through his nose. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel his wry, handsome smile. “That’s my girl.”

[earlysunshines]

flower girl

danielle marsh x fem!florist!reader

synopsis: you never expect much from your job at the flower shop but then the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on stumbles in

warnings: litcherslly none i don’t think anything rly ; very fluffy ; reader is awkward and loser and dorky ; danielle’s gorgeous and bubbly and cutesy and dorky too ; two dorky idiots that want each other i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: my writing is so much worse now it’s actually so bad and this is bc i haven’t written in a bit but also haven’t been reading like anthrjng (other than textbooks for class)… ooh.. ALSO heavily based off this song!!!

most people would assume that working at the towns flower shop is all sunshine’s and rainbows—the atmosphere is littered with beautiful arrangements, vibrant colors, and the gorgeous interior always has light seeping in through the windows just right. 

working at the flower shop would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that you were single. maybe if a lovely girl was waiting for you to clock out, ready to give you a soft kiss to the lips you’d enjoy your shifts more—but no. 

today isn’t different from the others. when is it ever? 

“babe, babeeee~” a girl whines in an uncomfortably high pitched voice that it makes you cringe a bit. your brows scrunch in a bit when you hear her, “pumpkin stop— haha— th-that tickles!” 

pumpkin? gosh, you might throw up into the flowers you’re fixing up. 

the couple that had walked in wasted no time getting all touchy and displaying the pda that no one asked for. 

(“no one” being you and only you because your manager is taking orders in the comfort of her office while you suffer out in the main area) 

the boyfriend pulls her closer, his chest pressing against her back as he peppers kisses on her neck, giggling like an idiot. you have to redirect your attention completely to block them from your peripheral, trying to endure only the sound now. 

“love bug, i can’t help it.” he tries to say quietly, but you’re the only people in the shop, making it increasingly difficult to put up with this. 

you sigh. the only way to get them to stop sooner is to go up to them, put on your customer service voice, flash a friendly smile, and hope for the best.

“hi! did you guys need any help with anything?” he’s still holding on to her when he looks over at you and nods. 

“yeah, yeah. just wanted to buy my girl some flowers. which ones are the prettiest? she likes pink.”

this job tests you everyday.

why would you buy flowers with her here? is it not usually a surprise? why are you using half of your singular braincell to think of a choice for your lover?

you criticize him knowing that he doesn’t really care what you give him, and judging by his tone—plus his ignorance and lack of interest for the vast options surrounding him—you could probably hand him polyester flowers and he wouldn’t think twice about the fact that they wouldn’t deteriorate at all in the next few years.

instead of giving in to your thoughts, your smile grows again. “right. well, a popular selection of pink flowers would be the classic rose bouquet, but we can also do a smaller bouquet of three.” you explain before poining across the shop to another arrangement. “and those are our tulips—another popular choice. as you can see, there’s a variety of colors, but depending on how many you need i’m able to provide a bouquet of pink.”

“okay, cool, cool.” he says, looking around. without thinking twice, he shrugs, then points to the roses. “i’ll take like, five? i don’t know how you do it. just pop ‘em in those little things so we can hold it and that should be it. it’s date night—need something nice for my girl.”

“oh stop it pumpkin… you’re so sweet.” the girl gushes, moving over to peck his lips.

your purse your lips into a forced smile, nodding at them. “right, i can hand you a bouquet of five. give me a few minutes.” 

they nod and offer a “thank you,” before going back to being all loving and everything that manages to make you throw up in your mouth. a groan leaves your lips as you get to work.

once you’re done, you hand the man the bouquet. “these are pretty fresh, so i’d say they’ll last a week if you care for them nicely. make sure the vase you store them in has clean water and whatnot.”

he nods and offers a friendly smile before giving the flowers to his girlfriend. she kisses him on the cheek and says thank you to him like this is the best gift in the world, but you beg to differ. you also don’t get paid enough to judge boyfriends doing the bare minimum, so you simply wave at them and say, “thank you for purchasing!”

once they leave, the comforting hum of your jazz playlist fills the silence. you’re left relieved. 

you sort out a few more flowers, pick up petals that fell on the ground, and clean up other messes from the day before the bell above the door rings.

a “welcome in!” leaves your mouth before you turn around to see who’s decided to stop by. you assume it’s a couple, or maybe the rare occasion that it’s someone elderly or the rarer occasion: a group of teenagers browsing around.

after fixing your hair, you turn around and are immediately met with pretty brown eyes that land right on your gaze.

a girl, the very pretty girl, looks around your age—probably a student like you. she lets the door close behind her and a small flush of wind brushes her hair across her face perfectly.

there’s a shiver that runs down your whole body. the way her lashes flutter when she blinks is like some sort of mind-blowing cinematic movie scene. she smiles, waving at you and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which somehow renders you speechless.

“hi! how are you?” she greets. her voice is bright and cheery.

you’re already impressed considering no customer has asked how you were today—or at all this week.

(it’s only wednesday, but it still means something to you.)

you smile easily, not a forced one, a genuine smile.

“i’m doing well, and you?” 

“great now that i’m here,” she says, her eyes wandering around the mildly cluttered area. “it’s beautiful inside. must be nice working here, i bet.”

“it is.” you respond, “i never get tired of the scenery.”

“who would?” she says sweetly, her eyes molding into crescents as she smiles again. “i can’t believe i haven’t stopped by… i walk pass this place almost everyday.”

“is that so?”

“mhm,” she nods, “it’s on the way to my work.”

“well, feel free to stop by anytime—even if you’re not purchasing.” you assure, “can i help you with anything?”

she nods again. “i wanted to surprise my friend with flowers, but i wanted it to be special. i needed some expert opinions.”

dusting off your apron, you chuckle quietly, “i can help you with that. is there anything you have in mind?”

she shifts her gaze, the expression on her face that signature “i’m thinking” look—like in the movies but somehow more dorky. 

“my friend has a strong personality… something bright and vibrant would be good. it matches her.” she begins, then walks over to the marigolds and brushes her finger over a petal, “her birthday is in october, so i looked into her birth flowers too.”

“marigold,” you almost whisper, “you did your research?”

“she’s one of my good friends.” the girl shrugs. “i want to get her something meaningful.”

a warmth spreads through your body, maybe from relief and surprise since this is the first time anyone has put any thought into what they’ve asked you to arrange.

“that’s cute.” you smile, giggling lightly, “your friend is lucky to have you.”

she smiles back—you're unsure if the smile ever left but now she’s smiling at you like that and you could really care less—and you make your way over to some marigolds and cosmos. 

“i think, in my opinion, some fall colored flowers and her birth flowers would be good.”

“i trust you, miss…” she trails off, looking at your nametag, squinting at your handwriting, and meeting your eyes again. “miss y/n.” 

your name, from that voice of hers and that dorky grin, sends another shiver down your spine. 

“i’m glad you have that much faith in me.” you joke.

the girl walks around the shop while you fix up her bouquet. the shop isn’t too big, but enough to fit a wide variety of flowers, excluding the special exceptions that decorate the shop outside. occasionally you’ll glance over at her and she’ll be immersed in observing the flowers. she takes pictures, brushes her fingers over the petals, and appreciates them for the same amount of time until she’s decided to stop at the area where you arrange the gift for her friend.

she simply watches. there’s a curiosity that you catch in her eyes, they seem to add a slight sparkle. she watches until you’re finished with the bouquet, eyes on your nimble fingers fixing each petal and adjusting the position to be just right.

“there we go,” you mumble to yourself. you’re too busy eyeing the flowers from each angle to notice the smile of admiration on the girls lips.

you hand her the bouquet, dusting your apron off and fixing your rolled-up sleeves. she holds the bouquet without saying a word, just staring at you for a few seconds before she stops studying every feature on your face like it’s the last time she’ll see you.

“thank you so much. they’re so beautiful.” she says, sniffing the flowers lightly. “you’re so talented!”

“thank you.” you chuckle, “i’m just doing my job, really. i hope your friend likes them.”

you tap at the screen of the register in front of you, calculating the price of the bouquet and feeling yourself shrink in your spot at the feeling of her gaze. you can’t remember the last time someone made you this nervous—warm in the cheeks, fidgety with your fingers, and an idiot fighting back any awkward rambling. this girl manages to do it without trying and it’s awfully humiliating, but also embarrassingly exciting.

before you can tell her the total of her bouquet, she rids of any professionalism you have with one single comment.

“you smell really good.” she says, earning a raised brow from you. “i hope it’s not weird.” she laughs lightly and it works at easing the tension in your shoulders. you feel yourself relax as she continues, “you smell like… well considering you work here i guess flowers would make sense, but you smell like pear and something refreshing. it’s strong, but not too strong. it’s noticeable—but it’s nice! very nice. sorry.”

“i–” how do you even respond to that? your heart is in your throat because she’s flashing an awkward smile—maybe because she’s realized what she’s said or maybe because it’s just the two of you and the room squeezing in—you mirror her expression and bite the inside of your lip before responding, “it’s jo malone. thank you. i, i um, it was a gift from someone. i really like the way it smells. it pairs well with the jasmine.“

what were you even saying? you want to disappear right then and there right after you say it, but you don’t. you don’t because she’s giggling and pulling out her credit card that’s on her phone screen.

you gulp and add, “oh, yeah— um, your total is twenty-five dollars and seventy cents.”

“jo malone… expensive.” she says as she scans her card. “thank you for everything, by the way. they’re beautiful. i have to stop by again.”

“well, i’ll look forward to it.” the ounce of confidence you have in your body seems to spill from your lips and reach your eyes from the way you’re looking at her. your eyes narrowed just barely while simultaneously softening up just for her. “come by anytime.”

“thank you—” she glances at your nametag once more, then puts her hand on your forearm. you feel like you’re in a simulation and being toyed with, or worse: a romance movie and you’re the desperate fool who’s been chosen as the main character. “---y/n.”

she waves and you wave back, then leaves, making the doorbell ring and even that sounds like something from a movie. the bell has never rung that cheerfully.

—

on your way back home, and for the rest of the week, you think about the girl. you’re an idiot for not asking for her name, so you’ve resulted to calling her “flower girl” for the time being.

your friends are also on to you, catching you smiling to yourself out of nowhere. you tell them you were thinking about the events of the multiple corny couples stumbling into your work, the utter embarrassment you feel from witnessing their pda making you smile, but they never believe it.

if you ever told them about “flower girl,” they’d shred you to pieces—verbally, of course—and poke fun at you for at least a week or two. 

what makes it worse is that you’ve been smiling more and thinking more and hoping she’d come back into work, but she doesn’t. a week passes and she still doesn’t, but two days after your one week anniversary of meeting (your friends would seriously tease you to death for what you call it), she shows up again.

the bell rings differently than normal. your ears twitch and you turn your head to see her. your eyes meet hers and so does your smile.

“y/n!” she beams, “happy friday!”

“hi.” you try to sound calm, composed—anything to play cool and hide how delusional you are. “it’s nice to see you again. happy friday.” you greet, continuing on when the silence stretches on for a mere two seconds, “need another bouquet?”

“no, just wanted to browse.” she shrugs.

and so she does, walking around and even crouching to match her level with a few of the shorter flowers. you pretend to go back to work, tending to the flowers and whatnot, really anything to keep yourself from staring at her. 

“how have you been?” she asks out of nowhere, catching you by surprise as you water some dandelions. 

“oh, i’ve been uh, i’ve been good. and you?”

“great. my friend really liked the flowers, by the way.”

“i’m glad. i was really fond of that arrangement. i thought about it the whole week.” and her, you’ve been thinking about more than just that gorgeous arrangement you completely forgot to get a picture of. 

“really? wow, i’m so happy that you liked it as much as i did! gosh, it was so pretty and everyone we met up with was amazed by the vibrant colors and everything. i referred them to you.”

you laugh, fully facing her now after setting down the water can. “thanks for helping out the business. my boss will be thrilled.”

“i hope your boss knows they have the best on their team!”

you laugh again, stepping a little closer to the flowers in front of you. “i’ll let her know, i hope it’ll convince her if it comes from me.” you joke.

she giggles and asks you about the flowers next to her. they’re chrysanthemums, a beautiful shade of yellow. you tell her a brief summary of the meaning, how popular they are, and that there’s a shipment for a different shade. the girl focuses on you the whole time, you catch her eyes scanning each feature of your face unless you specifically point to the flower. you never thought your job would come with the stress of meeting a pretty girl at your workplace who’s oddly eager to talk to you.

“yeah, i really like chrysanthemums, my mom does too. they’re a nice flower, pretty popular.” you shrug, lightly brushing your pointer over the edges of a few petals.

“what are your favorites then?” the girl questions, tilting her head ever so slightly to display her curiosity.

“oh, um.” you think to yourself, then glance around the room. 

there’s way too many to count and so many that you admire—which is why you decided to take this part-time job. 

you respond with the first two flowers that come to your mind. “lilies and daisies, probably.” you nod.

the girl looks over at the lilies in the room, grinning as she says, “i see why. gosh, the one’s you have here are so pretty.”

“yeah, i take care of them extra nicely.” you admit.

“is that so? i might have to invest in some eventually.”

“i’ll make sure they’re well-kept then.”

“hopefully they’ll be as pretty as the person handling them.” 

you blink. a blush blooms over your cheeks and your heartbeat picks up. 

before you can respond, she brushes over her compliment and continues, “i really like sunflowers. they’re so pretty, and they’re a classic.” she looks over to the sunflowers near the window. “my friends always compare me to them too.”

“i’m not surprised.” you mutter, and she catches it. her brows raise ever so slightly as if she’s waiting for an explanation. you catch her eyes with yours again while nervously adding, “you’re bright and… nice to look at.”

you swallow shallowly in the next five seconds that pass by without any response from her. you’re hoping she doesn’t notice how you tense your jaw while you try to hold up the composed act, but it’s really hard to keep it up when her lips curl into an even wider smile of amusement.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the door rings suddenly, though not in the cheery tune that follows after your “flower girl” walks in. a couple, one that’s showing way too much affection for your liking, stumbles in and looks around curiously. 

a soft sigh leaves your mouth and “flower girl” giggles. she places her hand on your forearm—light and brief, but you’re thinking about it real hard in the two seconds that it happens—then presses her lips together to suppress how giddy she is.

“i have to get going, and i believe you have more company?”

“yeah,” you nearly groan, “excuse me, i have to um, assist them.”

“alright.” she studies the subtle shift of your expression and nods. “i’ll see you again, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.” you respond, watching her brush past the couple and toward the door.

before you make your way to the couple, you pinch your eyes shut and bite the inside of your lip; you forgot to get her name again. 

—-

you catch a few of your friends for lunch after a particularly draining shift. there were multiple people that needed help with picking flowers, which wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that most of them were for birthdays.

(it just had to be everyone’s birthday that day—or week.)

sohee, one of your closest friends, sits in front of you and pretends to look innocent after stealing one of your fries. chaewon and soobin giggle at the playful punch you throw at his shoulder, which makes him groan with the stolen fry still in his mouth.

“ask nicely next time.” you warn.

“you’re such a hypocrite! you took the fruit gummies from my apartment literally last—”

“okay? are you saying you want me to be malnourished? wow…”

“but—

“no.” you quickly shut him down while simultaneously trying to fight back a laugh. “you’re a man, you can’t be doing all that.”

chaewon rolls her eyes at your antics, then steals a fry without a complaint coming from you. soobin chuckles and sohee looks at all of you defeatedly.

throughout the rest of lunch you all catch-up with what’s been going on through the week. sohee’s been trying to convince his roommate to invest in a mini-fridge and chaewon groans as she explains how she’s been considering taking an extra class the next semester.

and while soobin goes over his chaotic month, you start smiling to yourself as you accidentally tune out his voice. your thoughts shift over to your encounter with “flower girl” two days ago. 

it’s incredibly odd how you’re eager to clock in to work now. it’s not that you hated your job, you truly loved it, but the customers were always iffy. now, you have something to look forward to, someone to keep yourself going when it’s slow or dreadful on certain days. 

chaewon flicks your forehead, snapping you out of a replay of her hand on your forearm.

“what the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, “did you hear what soobin just said?”

“uh,” absolutely nothing had processed in the past minute. “sorry.”

soobin nudges your shoulder. “damn… so you hate me.”

“well, yes.” you joke. “sorry, ‘binnie, i was just… thinking about work.”

“i thought you hated your job…?” he responds.

sohee joins in, “yeah, you were just complaining to the group chat about a couple that forgot to stop making out when you came back with their bouquet.”

“oh my god, i forgot about that, ugh… and that was literally a month ago.” the memory makes you cringe. “and no i do not hate my job! i love it.”

“something is up then.” sohee says, pointing at you dramatically. “what’s up with work? did something happen? is this why you’ve been so… giddy?”

“giddy?” you try to laugh off his accusation. “it’s not— i– it’s nothing!”

“she stuttered,” chaewon points out.

“that doesn’t mean shit!” you groan, “i’ve just… okay, works been better. look, there’s this new regular. she’s kind of a regular.”

“oh my god, this girl must be cute then.” soobin chuckles, raising his brows at you. “what, you’ve got yourself some type of flower girl?”

you’re baffled that he somehow read your mind and matched frequencies enough to know that you also call her flower girl. you want to scold him for jumping to the conclusion that you’re happier at work because of a pretty girl—but he’s quite on point, so you can’t really defend yourself.

“oh my god she’s blushing,” sohee mumbles, laughing with chaewon.

“oh shut up i hate you guys.” you groan, “she’s just nice and actually talks to me. i mean yeah she’s gorgeous but that’s not even the point. she’s different than usual customers and… i guess it’s a nice change.”

“so you want her,” soobin says before sipping on his tea. “pretty girl vs. y/n and she’s already losing.”

“i—”

okay maybe he’s right, but you’d never admit that. 

the rest of lunch consists of you getting teased until the topic switches into chaewon talking about kazuha and sakura, who have apparently been way too loud when playing video games late at night. soobin, however, manages to throw in one more teasing comment before you all depart, which earns a few more remarks from chaewon throughout the car ride home.

“everything used to soil your mood,” soobin’s words replayed in your mind over and over, “seems like this ‘flower girl’ is making you bloom.” 

his words were corny mainly because it was him saying it, but he wasn’t wrong. and it doesn’t help that chaewon keeps telling you that she supports whatever you have going on, saying that you’re “not as cranky” and “smiling like an idiot all the time.”

you blush the whole way home thinking about her and it’s ridiculous. this girl that’s shown up twice has you malfunctioning even outside of work.

—

“y/n, could you grab the shipments from the back? i unloaded them, they just need to be restocked. it’s a few boxes, nothing much.” your boss asks. 

“yeah, sure.” you respond, immediately heading to the back and looking around for the boxes she mentioned.

you have exactly one hour until work ends and the only thing on your mind is a nice big lunch since you only had time to eat a banana for breakfast. you feel the energy leaving your body as you carry the boxes, guessing they’re mainly seeds and supplies for the bouquets. the boxes shfit and a subtle sound hints that there’s some pots for people who end up buying something to display their flowers.

with a light thud, you place the boxes on the counter in the front and find the box cutter nearby. just as you suspected—there are a few packets of seeds, tools, and pots inside that you pull out and start restocking.

but in the corner of your eye you catch two people conversing outside. you’d brush it off if it weren’t for the fact that one of them was flower girl, who’s talking to your boss while pointing at the tulips.

your heart beats faster in your chest and a surge of urgency to finish restocking.

you jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder not too long later. turning your head, you catch your manager grinning at you.

“hey, i’ve got the rest. there’s a customer that you should help.” she tells you, but the look in her eyes screams something mischievous.

you nod, setting the pot in your hand back into the box before turning to meet the same big brown eyes that never fail to light up your day.

“y/n!”

“flower girl,” you mutter, though very quietly, just under your breath. “hi,” you greet, clear and professionally.

“how are you?” she asks, and it flows like last time; conversation with her is light and easy to ease into.

you tell her it’s a little slower today considering it’s tuesday, and you even drop a little “i’m glad you’re here to keep some brief company,” which earns a smile and a “i find stopping by the highlight of my week, it’s nothing.”

now you’re both trying not to blush and it’s impossible. it’s impossible because you notice that shade of blush she has on matches the carnations that you had to fix up yesterday. and on her end, she can’t help but notice that your hair is a little messier than usual, which adds to how cute she thinks you are.

you two converse in between her questions about flowers. she finds your anecdotes about each and every one interesting, interesting enough that she asks,

“hey, what are you doing later today?”

the question catches you off guard. “oh, um. probably nothing… maybe i’ll go on a walk or visit a friend… i don’t know… why do you ask?”

you can’t curb the blush that heats your face, so you pray it’s not noticeable.

“well, i’m off today and my schedule is pretty empty… i was hoping you’d let me pencil you in?”

you giggle at her response, hoping your manager doesn’t hear any of it because she’s also one to tease you like crazy.

“i’d… yeah, i’d like that.” you sound like an idiot. your mind runs in circles and your heart beats faster than it usually does—even faster than the time she (you’d hope) flirted with you. “i um, i get off in less than an hour… i hope you don’t mind waiting.”

she bites the inside of her lip and it feels like it’s just the two of you in the shop, with daisies sprouting around (metaphorically speaking, of course) to feed the fire that burns in your chest. 

“that’s perfect. do you like sandwiches?”

“i love them.”

“perfect. there’s a place not too far that i love—”

“down the block near the park?”

“yes! how did you—?”

“i go there all the time.” wow, this is perfect, you think to yourself. “we could grab lunch… maybe walk around…?”

she laughs and your whole body relaxes. 

“you’re really cute, you know?”

“i think you’re cuter.” you say without thinking. “and i feel unbelievably stupid that i’ve been calling the cute girl that stops by every week ‘flower girl.’ my friends keep teasing me because i never got your name.”

“you talk to me about your friends?’ she questions with a growing smirk.

“i— maybe.” 

“well, i’m glad i’m not the only one.”she breaks eye contact to look at the ground bashfully. “my friends have been… trying to help me build up the courage to ask you out.”

“really?”

“mhm.” she nods.

“well, i’d love to tell my friends more about you…” you trail off, remembering that you don’t even know her name.

“if i give you my name… would you give me your number?” she asks cheekily.

you chuckle. “i’ll consider it.”

her hand brushes the petal of a flower nearby—a pink hibiscus—before saying, “my name is danielle.”

“danielle,” her name trickles off your tongue with curiosity and wonder. her name isn’t uncommon, but it’s beautiful and a perfect fit for someone bright like her.

her smile grows along with yours.

“i guess i should give you my number then, danielle.” you test the way her name sounds coming from you and are just as content the second time around. it’s better than flower girl, but that’s not stopping you from calling her that again and again in the future.

“i’d need your number just in case i want to see you again,” she says with a light-hearted, teasing tone. “just in case you charm me well enough.”

“i’ll do my best then, flower girl.”

[silliest-sideblog]

Days since last anvil incident: 1 0

After seeing the art that @wasyago made for Tango for Hermit a day May, I really wanted to write a little something for it.

So here we have 500 words of Tango and his goofy little factory helpers!

Writing under the cut!

The factory hums around Tango as it steadily works in the background. He's gotten used to the noises around him by now, especially now that it actually has been working for a few months without a major hitch. 

Minecarts are rolling around, lights are blinking on and off, and Tango has to admit, this place might be a home? Well, maybe home isn't the right word. But it is done and he feels satisfied with it. Even if there still is a bit of stuff left to do. 

Like cleaning up. 

With all the recent finishing touches he's made to this place, the boxes have stacked up, and all the work outside, shaping the paths, has tracked enough dirt inside that Tango felt the need to finally fix his mess. 

One would think that this is what he invented the teknicians for, right? But if he left those guys alone with this, no work would get done, in the best case. In any worse case he'd have to reassemble them again after another anvil to the face incident. 

So instead, Tango is swiping up dust, mud and debris himself, two hands on the broom, his other two hands holding his pesky tail out of the way before it can absentmindedly swipe through one of the neat piles he's just made. All while making sure his little guys are actually helping. 

One definitely is, and Tango can't help but smile, always enjoying to see when his inventions actually work out, as he's carrying around some trash bags. 

Another one is currently trying to dust off a few boxes which is... Admittedly less helpful but it's got the spirit. 

Maybe this isn't going to take forever. He's been making good progress and one of the little guys is even helping with unpacking the non-trash boxes, carrying around items to his storage, even if he plays around with them for a bit first. 

With a smile and a small shake of his head, endeared by the teknicians, Tango keeps swiping until he sees something red being lifted out of one of the boxes. Oh no.

"No no no no no no no"

The broom is clattering to the floor as Tango sprints over, tackling the small robot away before he can actually light the TNT. Rolling over the floor, a safe distance away, Tango can catch his breath, picking the robot up by his neck like one might a cat. "No! Bad teknician!" Tango is aware of how exasperated he sounds. "How often do u have to say, no lighting shiny boom booms inside the factory?" 

With a sigh and a pat on the head he lets the guy down as he waddles off, hopefully doing something else now that won't give Tango another heart attack. 

Sitting on the floor for another moment, one hand in his lap, the other two propping him up, Tango allows himself a momentary break, going through his hair once with a free hand. 

His moment of peace is interrupted by another anvil falling down, dangerously close to where Tango is sitting, causing him to practically jump out of his skin and scatter away with a loud "Gah!" 

Looking up he saw another teknician, the one that presumably held an anvil a few seconds ago, fallen onto his face, struggling like a bug turned on its back. 

With a deep sigh, Tango gathers himself, and mildly regrets having made these little helpers so stinkingly adorable. 

[sordidmusings]

do you think mihawk would go through the 7 stages of grief when he catches feelings for someone or would he be a self-aware king and just shrug and accept it?

On a scale from One to Death, how pained is Mihawk about falling in love?

Pairing: Mihawk x GN Reader

Form this took: non-bulleted headcanon!

Word Count: ~730

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk actually continually creates new stages of grief in his unmoving stance to Pretend Everything’s Fine.

He’s not in love with you, he just has every bit of info on your likes, dislikes, and stories tucked away in his memory for convenience. He didn’t even consciously decide to do that actually. It’s just a fluke or maybe it was because it’s all such easy info to remember; it’s certainly not because all that information has special importance. It’s most definitely not because you look at him with such joy and gratitude every time you realize that he’s remembered something about you. Nor is it how beautifully his heart aches when your face glows with appreciation and affection for him.

He’s helping you out because your skills are disappointing, not because he sees you as a being of boundless potential. It has nothing to do with the pride he finds in each stride you make, whether by his guiding or your own breakthroughs. Nothing at all to do with how, day by day, he finds it more precious to watch you grow than the beloved gardens surrounding his castle.

His restlessness and temper when you’re gone are only because he has to take over all the tasks you do at the castle. Of course he’s not happy having unnecessary things out back on his plate, it was so much better being able to hand off half of those so he has time for the things that are important. Like swordsmanship and your shared hours to end each day. He doesn’t miss you bugging him all of the time; he can take care of himself without your drop ins to bring him water and snacks, or calls that dinner’s ready, or excited recommendations for books he always ends up enjoying, or observations on all the inane things around you (he obviously sees everything and it’s not better sharing them and a present existence with you, nope), or the rare occasions you speak your worry for his dour and lonely life that cut right to the heart of him. Those are what he misses the absolute least; he’s used to being called cold and heartless and alone, he doesn’t need you saying it but worse - noticing the heartlessness is unfortunately a lie, that there’s been something raw and painful festering in him for years, kept far from where anyone can touch and exhausting him of life’s pretenses.

He has no hope that you could possibly help fix that (just as much as you’re a balm for that wound, closeness to you rips it wide open).

There will have to be some change to your routine dancing around each other for him to accept his feelings for you and become that self-aware king instead of the willfully-ignorant peasant. This could be a threat of you leaving, likely not in you giving him that ultimatum but in more gradual ways that circumstance usually does. Maybe you begin to get into your head that he’ll never have feelings for you, and in your acceptance of that you begin to seek other hearts to share. Maybe you run from the depths of your own emotions for him, slowly shifting your life to be less and less at the castle, seeking opportunities that will take you to further seas.

Or maybe life does throw you both a much more drastic cause for change - an explosive argument when you seek a new love, or you unloading all your worry for him and fears that he is heartless while he’s frozen stiff, or him knowing the deep fear of not having you in his life in any capacity when your life is almost taken. Regardless of the cause, once he does acknowledge his feelings, he will absolutely act on it. He is a man of drive and dedication after all.

Now Mihawk is a lucky son of a bitch because it is very likely that you don’t know for a fact he has any interest in you until the Cool and Confident stage kicks in. He’d be mortified if you ever found out how desperately he tried to patch the dam in him that barely kept his overflowing interest, affection, and adoration at bay.

I hope you do find out because that needs to be held over his head for the rest of his life and then some 👌🏻

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

For my lil milestone celebration here 🤍 come ask!

Thank you for your question anon❣️ the phrasing had me cackling it was too good 💀 I hope you enjoyed!! Sending love and hugs

[stevie-petey]

Hi! I love your writing, it’s seriously impeccable. I was wondering- remember the part where you wrote in the first chapter for season 4, where Chrissy gave reader a daisy (or daisies ?) when everything happened in season 1? Whenever you can, I was wondering what that would have looked like, like a mini little blurb.

:}

yes !!! chrissy was a sweetie i like to imagine her and bug were friendly and admired the other from afar </3

enjoy !

"excuse me?"

youre in the library trying to catch up on all the work youve missed these last few weeks, and youre so lost in your readings that you jump when you feel the girls hand gently tap your shoulder. "jesus!"

the table thuds, knee coming into contact with it in your terror, and your heart stops. memories of the demogorgon still fresh on your mind, any touch from someone sets you into a spiral.

"sorry!" the girl squeaks in embarrassment, and when you look up, you see chrissy cunninghams cheeks flushed. "i-im sorry! i didnt mean to scare you, i promise-"

your heartbeat settles. placing a hand on hers, you placate chrissys anxious thoughts. "its alright. no harm done." you smile at her, winking, hoping to dispel any remaining tension. "just a bruised knee."

yet chrissys face pales now. "oh, no. thats even worse. i really didnt mean to make you jump like that."

"it really isnt your fault." you reassure her again. "honestly, anything these days makes me jump."

"because of will?" chrissy asks you before she can stop herself. she flinches at her own question, similar to a small deer scared of its own shadow, and your heart aches for the girl before you. "i-im so sorry. that was a rude question-"

"would you like to sit?"

its not that you interrupt chrissy because youre bored of her. you interrupt her because you know what its like to spiral into anxious thoughts and uncertain boundaries. chrissy has been your classmate for years, but the two of you were always divided by a line created by social hierarchy. she chose cheerleading, and you chose jonathan.

but despite this divide, youve always watched chrissy in awe. shes kind. kinder than anyone youve ever met, and her soft demeanor juxtaposed the charisma needed to become head cheerleader at only sixteen. and yet youve never seen her cruel to anyone.

"well?" you beckon chrissy towards the seat next to you. "since youre here, might as well keep me company, right?"

chrissy nods, silent, and softly sits down. everything she does is soft. she smells of rosebuds and her doe eyes remind you of your childhood.

as she sits, you notice something white poking out from her bag. curious, you peer over the table. "whats in there?"

she stiffens at your questioning. everything you seem to do frightens her in some capacity. as if shes afraid any minute she'll upset you, and you try not to read into it, you really do, but her shy demeanor concerns you.

"chrissy," you gently grab her hand, eyes finding hers. shes warm to the touch, skin as soft as she is. "im just an annoyingly inquisitive person who cries watching ants get stepped on."

she laughs, and the cadence of it rings like bells. "ants?"

"im fond of bugs." you shrug at her, only knowing the true meaning behind your words.

she doesnt question you, though, and instead loops her arm through her backpack and places it on the table. you watch her with patience as she unzips it, unsure what she's doing, until she's pulled out freshly cut daisies.

you gasp. the flowers are lovely. "theyre beautiful!"

chrissy smiles shyly. "theyre for you, actually?"

"me?"

"mhm," she hands them to you, a sudden boldness to her once petrified nature. on her face is a proud smile, eager to have done this one nice thing for you, and for a second you see your reflection in her eyes. "here."

you hold the flowers close to your chest. they smell like spring and laughter. "i... why?"

"theyre for you and will." chrissy fixes one of the stems, delicate and deft. "when i heard about his disappearance, when he died..."

its your turn to look away. the reminder of seeing what you thought was wills lifeless body only days ago. how small he looks now in the hospital bed. how els body isnt next to his.

chrissy clears her throat, anxious she's upset you, and tries to ease the sting. "but hes alive now, and i figured you and him could use some flowers after everything youve been through."

she picks at a daisy, watches the small plant with fondness. "flowers. funny how something so frail can bring so much hope."

something about the way she says it, the way her words twist, makes your throat close up. pressure builds behind your eyes and you have to quickly wipe them before chrissy sees and starts to worry again.

"thank you," your voice cracks. "i... will hates how dull the hospital walls are."

chrissy laughs, leaning into you, and you cant help but laugh with her as well.

“COME HOME” BLURB MASTERLIST

if you’d like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[ddwcaph-game]

Update Previews!

Today's update post has three new changes/additions:

New Character Development Variables for F6E

New Difficulty Settings

Trait and EXP Updates

Before I show the previews, I just wanna say that after this update, I'll try to focus more on the story, and less on the gameplay stuff. I've actually gotten a bunch of breakthroughs with the story recently, so look forward to the introduction posts of the other two crush options soon!

New Character Development Variables for F6E

I'm thinking of adding a second set of character development variables for F6E! While the primary purpose of the first set of variables is to determine how major story branches will play out, the second set is intended to be less impactful, and only affect flavor text and dialogue.

New Difficulty Settings

Instead of the starting twin relationship traits secretly modifying your NP cost and NP recovery stats, I decided to add new difficulty settings to the last choice in the prologue.

Here are the difficulty modifiers:

🟢 Slice-of-Life Difficulty: +10% Overall EXP, +25 Max NP, +12% NP Recovery, -20% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are capped at 25% 🟡 Adventure Difficulty: Normal EXP, NP Cost, and NP Recovery modifiers 🔴 Superhero Difficulty: -10% Overall EXP, -25 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +50% NP Costs when retconning stat checks 🔥 Apocalyptic Difficulty: -33% Overall EXP, -50 Max NP, -12% NP Recovery, +100% NP Costs when retconning stat checks, Stat Penalties from 🤯 [HEADACHE!!!] are 25% Worse

It's important to note that the difficulty settings DO NOT change the stat check requirements, so this wouldn't really affect you much if you don't use NP very often. Your Max NP is now also tied to your Total EXP gained (you gain 1 Max NP for every 2,500 EXP gained instead of gaining Max NP every chapter), so that's why the settings give EXP Bonuses/Penalties. Of course, these are all subject to changes later.

Trait and EXP Updates

As I've said before, I'm reworking the "bucket list" idea to be much simpler. Some traits/passives will now give a small amount of EXP when you pick certain choices.

I'm adding these bonuses to make picking traits more impactful, make gaining EXP more meaningful, and to add a sense of progression/character development for your MC. For example, Troublemaker MCs will now gain a small amount of EXP when picking Sensible/Disciplined choices.

Here's the full list of additions:

The EXP bonuses are minor enough (most choices will only give around 10-30 EXP), so you won't really miss out on much if your Troublemaker MC wants to keep causing chaos anyway. The bonuses do stack however, so we'll see if the numbers need adjusting in the future.

The EXP Notification won't appear if you gain EXP this way, so don't worry about extra clutter! Speaking of, I actually found a bunch of bugs that made certain Traits give more/less EXP all the time while coding, so whoops! 😅 It's not really game-breaking so I'll just include the fix with the next update.

Anyway, that's all I got for now. Let me know what you think of the new changes!

[lesabear]

Thoughts on Veilguard

TLDR: If empty calories were a video game it would be Dragon Age: The Veilguard. The game is a pleasant enough - if generic and unremarkable - action RPG that basically abandons the themes and feel of the previous games, resulting in a bland story that largely avoids dealing with anything that might remotely cause conflict in the party or force the player to consider anything other than surface level good-bad morality.

If this is the direction they're taking DA, then I think I'm done with the franchise. If I wanted a generic, thematically uninteresting, action RPG there are so many other games to play.

Spoilers in my detailed thoughts below

The good:

It looks very nice - I wish I could have spent even more time exploring the world areas.

Very few bugs or technical issues unlike Andromeda (or most new games in general). I had a few minor issues near the end but overall was very impressed.

Manfred and Assan are great secondary companions. If anyone knows where to find a skeleton and/or griffon friend please let me know.

I quite like Emmerich, Davrin and Bellara and romanced the latter two and (Generally) really liked both. Disclaimer: I tend to have different tastes than the majority of DA fandom when it comes to romances. I expected to have mixed feelings on Bellara because of my issues with Bioware and their cutesy awkward naive/inexperienced female characters but I thought they (mostly) got her right.

Some interesting lore stuff, though I quibble with how it was delivered at times. Still was fun to get a lot more info on the Evanuris, Solas, Mythal, the Titans, etc. And there's also some fun lore stuff in the codices, although again I question whether that's the best way to deliver them.

The final mission is a lot of fun and the clear standout quest other than Weisshaupt maybe. Both are a lot of fun and combine multiple story elements with good gameplay for a satisfying experience.

Combat is engaging although it does get repetitive once you "solve" it. I did a lot of grinding to complete content though so that might be my fault.

Solas is very Solas-y in the game and the highlight of the antagonists by far. I wish there had been more of him and I say that as someone who finds the Solas fandom somewhat exhausting at times. He was far more interesting and compelling than the "even-worse" gods and the fact he's a fuck up who keeps making things worse because he's an egotistical fuck-up who thinks he's the only one that can fix things was is both tragic and fun.

Neve-Lucanis and Taash-Harding are both very cute. I actually think they might be my favorite companion romances off the top of my head (Tali-Garrus does absolutely nothing for me, and I don't even romance either character with my Shepard).

The not good

Why is the Inquisitor wearing pajamas.

Bioware can fuck off for making me pop about a zillion blight pimples. It's really not that much fun after the first 1000

Extremely disappointed with how sanitized the narrative is. There's little attention paid to major facets of the DA universe that are directly relevant to the plot (religion, Tevinter slavery, racism toward elves etc.) and you also get stuff like the Crows now being far lighter of an organization than they were previously.

Just as an example - both Davrin and Bellara touch on what it means to have their gods be the villains but they're just topics for conversation and there's no meaningful impact (especially as the bad guys rely on Antaam and Venatori forces - oh and generic mercenaries). The Dalish are just there (or victims of the bad guys) for the most part. I've read comments from Bioware that confirm this but it seemed obvious Bioware wrote themselves into a corner with making Elven gods be the main antagonists, as you then run into the issue of having the elves not only already be a persecuted minority but also be worshipping evil gods - but instead of writing around it they just avoided dealing with it and acted like it's just the Dalish getting a big win by not joining them.

Speaking of enemies, lots of bland dialogue from the non-Solas big bads. And the Venatori/Antaam/mercenaries gave off major "Cerberus in ME3" vibes - nameless, faceless goons thrown at you in waves that got very boring very quickly.

The way a companion gets hardened because of a choice early in the game is mostly meaningless unless you wanted to romance them. People getting mad about that happening are being ridiculous - if anything the game is too afraid (as usual) to have it actual matter beyond them briefly being upset before moving on.

One of the big choices is to decide whether to protect Treviso or Minrathous when both are attacked by dragons, but it happens so early you might lock yourself out of quests without realizing it. Worse, the ensuing mission is incredibly short and boring (basically a couple of packs of generic enemies and then a very brief dragon fight)

Why is the Inqusitor wearing pajamas.

Why can't I be a mean/"bad" Rook? Even the jokey responses feel super tame compared to previous DAs (let alone the borderline assholish purple hawke). Basically you're only allowed to be slightly different variations of a heroic figure.

While the companions are all nice they all top out at "I like them", with none matching the story or emotional peaks of previous Bioware games. Emmerich comes closest (especially if you account for Manfred) but there's just enough meat to him.

Disappointing romances compared to previous Bioware games(especially but not limited to Lucanis.). Not a ton of depth dialogue wise and at times it feels like they put more time into the companion romance than the Rook version (this time I am definitely talking about Lucanis).

Speaking of which, Lucanis was the biggest disappointment of the companions. I didn't want a Zevran clone but you have a hardened assassin possessed by a demon who (if you choose not to save Treviso, which cuts off a lot of his content) just drinks coffee and likes Neve and uh....

Completely forgettable soundtrack which is a major bummer after previous installments. Also, while I didn't have many technical issues, the music not always playing was one of them (although maybe it doesn't really matter given the lack of quality!)

Bad to horrendous incorporation of previous DA story which was also incongruous with the general tone, especially with the handling of the Inquisitor and the treatment of southern Thedas (especially if you get the Emmerich and Harding picnic conversation at an awkward time like I did.)

Lots of disappointing cameos but especially from my Pirate Queen/Wife from DA2. Isabela's hat is indeed very nice but what is that outfit? And I get they didn't want to deal with too complex a world state but man was it a bummer to see her basically reset after everything her and Hawke went through in my main DA2 playthrough.

Why is the Inquisitor wearing pajamas.

What did they do with Harding? Why did she basically get Dagna's story, even if Titan lore is interesting? She's such a nothing character in this game which is such a weird choice given that she's clearly there because they know fans like her.

The "Actually Varric was dead all along" did nothing for me. He barely shows up in game anyway and the weird framing of every appearance and the fact no one other than Rook ever interacts with him gave it away (at least partially)

[blue-fish-bonez]

This might sound stupid and I’m probably wrong but I’m convinced that they made the plot point of Alya being naive to Lila’s lying spree to the point of completely taking her side at times was a last resort to make marinette look good and sympathetic after everyone started to pick up on the whole stalking thing she had going on

But like there’s no way you do a complete 180 with your friend just like that without feeling a bit guilty about it but in a way, it’s a little painfully realistic since yes, they are young teens. And teens are sometimes always persuaded by things that they find interesting with no second thoughts about it which makes them both naive and perhaps a ‘yes-men’ type of exterior and as a teen myself I can definitely say it’s true from personal experiences. It may be realistic but that doesn’t make it okay most of the time. At times it’s bad to blindly believe something just because you find it interesting or right in your own way without doing a basic background check. It’s annoying but it’s necessary.

Since Alya is supposed to be a character who’s core trait is being the journalist who basically Sherlock Holmes her way into finding valuable research but if she had the energy to try and find out ladybug and cat noirs identity, she sure didn’t do a good job of looking into Lila even after marinette revealed to her she was ladybug who’s significant lie is that ladybug and her are friends when marinette made it clear she doesn’t like Lila and that their rivalry is completely built upon false accusations and liking some boy who instead liked a magical girl in a bug onesie which Alya would have definitely done if Thomas astruc wasn’t so obsessed with marinette more than she was with Adrien

If the writers already established that Alya can find evidence completely on her own for significant things like the main hero’s identities and help form a resistance against and to find the villains, why didn’t she do it for marinette and Lila? It’s easy, the writers needed drama between the characters to get the audience riled up and turn against Alya for her naivety in hopes of making us sympathize with poor little marinette. It has been established a lot throughout season one that they were ‘very best friends’ that wouldn’t turn their back on each other but the second the current seasons got more into the Lila and marinette drama it makes Alya look less like a naive friend with no ill will as Lila’s lies are pretty believable even if their ridiculously funny and dumb

Marinette from the beginning had a ton of problems that the fans and even the writers didn’t wanna admit until it got worse and were soon called out for. She wouldn’t take accountability in accusing her own class (expect Adrien cause she’s atrociously down bad) of theft rather than herself (rogercop) stealing her friends phone to remove an embarrassing voice mail and recreate a video and get no consequences for it (copycat and the mime) and the stalking is self explanatory. Even in an episode Gigantitan when Alix brings up that fact that marinettes behavior and knowledge about Adrien (the memorized schedule) is rather weird but rose and other characters decided that it was ‘romantic’ and it was never brought up again because the narrative of the episode try’s to frame it as that it was wrong and actually cute

Alix: (whispers to Rose) She knows everything about Adrien! Creepy, no? (Copy and pasted from transcript)

Rose: Yes! It's so romantic! (Copy and pasted from transcript)

Even though marinette has clear flaws it doesn’t necessarily make her a bad person as she has good qualities to both her character and personality but it becomes overshadowed as she never really gets consequences for her misdeeds that are not that helpful to her character development which is a problem by itself which should have been fixed way before the new seasons aired.

But when things get pretty bad in season three where Lila almost got marinette expelled, Alya was definitely helping her clear her name doing all her journalist work and gathering evidence but then it all went away in season five when the writers became desperate to blow marinettes bad deeds in the first season out of the water and to make Alya act more like an idiot and a bad friend than the supportive and truth seeking friend that she actually used to be and it becoming an ongoing thing in the show that feels like the writers have completely wasted her character and abandoned the important detective trait in Alya to make her look as bad as possible and it worked because season five made and her Bf Nino more OOC than the OG Star Wars cast in the Last Jedi with how passive and dismissive of Adrien and marinette attempt to tell the truth making seem like Adrien’s defending her just because she’s his girlfriend now and that’s a problem. And the fact that Alya was supposed to apologize to marinette after Lila and choke were exposed in the storyboard was actually scraped makes me so pissed.

Alya: I am so so sorry!

Alya: How could I have been so gullible?

They could have actually fixed her character (maybe not but who knows) with that one scene and actually bring back her being supportive and feeling remorseful but no, good ol thomas and friends just had to make her look bad again cutting out the apology scene even after the drama was over and never bring it up again

Just an observation

[sometipsygnostalgic]

The best system to play Gameboy games on is... well... you can play them on many devices.

Officially it would be GBA SP because it can run Gameboy and GB Colour games.

However, very few backlit SPs were ever released (they are frontlit). So a better unit for Gameboy Advance games might be the DS Lite, which universally is backlit and which is lightweight enough to not cause problems. It also has better ergonomics than the SP, but I am bugged by the black borders and empty second screen.

A really popular mod is called the "Gameboy Macro", which is when you take a DS Lite lower screen and use it solely as a gameboy advance. It is a great way to recycle DS units with a broken top screen, a common issue, though it makes me cringe to think some people modify perfectly fine units this way.

The Lite also has issues with the cartridge sticking out the bottom, so many prefer using the "phat" for this purpose. The original DS is both frontlit and backlit for some reason. The image is still an improvement on frontlit SPs.

The best units to play DS and 3DS games on are... the DS and 3DS.

Specifically the best place for NDS games is the DSi XL. No non-DS device has the touchscreen versatility to run DS games well, and it's very awkward scaling the tiny screen on an emulator.

The 3DS is also not a great place for DS games. The 3DS top parallax screen is incapable of a 1:1 pixel ratio even in pixel-perfect mode, which already has the issue of black borders around the screens, making touch-based games more finicky.

It is especially apparent on the XL models but is also an issue on the smaller 3ds models.

The best unit to play DS games on is the DSi XL. It has a backlit screen and more power and memory than the first two units, making loading faster. It doesn't have the scaling issues of the 3ds, as it doesn't need to do any upscaling at all - the XL has the same number of pixels as a normal DS.

I've never used a DSi XL because all the ones sold in the UK are these ugly beige colours and they never took off, but if you don't mind the loss of the GBA slot, it's the best device for DS games.

Unfortunately DSis seem to be plagued by yellowing screens. I can tell you the small unit I just bought has some very slight yellowing on both screens.

What's the best way to play 3ds games? Well, on a 3ds obviously. It's even harder to accurately emulate 3ds games than DS games, and you lose the 3d effects altogether.

But which 3ds is best?

It depends on what you want. The 3ds more than any other Nintendo system besides the Gameboy is heavily based on preference instead of objective superiority.

To get it out the way first, while the original 3ds has the sleekest look, it's the worst one. The original 3ds and 3dsXL have a much worse 3D implementation, relying on you to stare at the screen at an odd angle.

Not only does the New3ds fix the 3d with an eye tracking sensor, it also has more power again, and a "c-stick". I also think the screens on the New3ds are of a higher quality and run flat games better too.

However the New3dsXL has some downgrades. The SD card is replaced with a microSD but now requires a mini screwdriver to access, removing the back plate. The stylus is also a really tiny one like on the DS, in an awkward place, and the metallic skin on the console will decay very quickly with use. My New3DSXL's skin started peeling under my hands after just six months of use.

The New3DSXL is the best unit to play 3ds games if you are looking to have all the features at their most optimal. It is the best by far for playing in 3d. It can also run the DS library fine, if in a poor image quality.

Personally I prefer the XL, the larger size is easier on the eyes, though the customizable panels on the hard-to-find normal size New3ds are cute too.

If you don't care for 3d, the Wedge and Doorstop may be for you.

The 2ds has all the features of a 3ds apart from the 3d, while in a wedge shape that looks dreadful but actually feels more ergonomic. It has similarities to the first Gameboy Advance and you can't tell you're holding something so tall.

The original 2DS is sold for much cheaper than the other units because Nintendo sold it for cheaper and nobody particularly wants one, so it's the most affordable way to try every game in the DS library, especially if you pair it with a jailbroken SD card. Unfortunately it still uses the 3ds screen, just with no 3d slider, so it still upscales DS games and doesn't have perfect rendering of 3ds games either, but it's harder to tell as the screen's tiny.

The New 2ds XL was the last DS ever sold, it came out after Switch. A lot of cute variants of the 2ds XL exist, and most games coming out around its release didn't have 3d enabled anyway. The feature had died in popularity, so while a 2d 3ds was originally scoffed at, in 2017 it just made sense.

While the New2ds XL looks fancy in a distance, the ergonomics are worse than any 3ds, and far worse than the wedge 2ds. The New2dsXL is all style and no substance, with the speakers being covered by the user's hands, and it's made out of a flimsy plastic. It's clear Nintendo made the materials for the hull cheaper and cheaper over time, so by the end of the 3ds's life they had gone from a very premium-feeling device to cheap plastic. The Switch would follow this design philosophy.

I do salivate over that Pikachu version and I'd enjoy trying one, but my mind tells me it's not a great device.

All told, which do I think is better? Well I think the 3ds XL having the most features is inviting for me, and I have the choice of turning off 3D. However if you want bang for your buck, the 2ds wedge might be your safest option.

Unfortunately the New 2ds XL and New 3ds XL will cost you as much as a Nintendo Switch these days. It seems that sellers have wisened up to the demand from people who missed out on the 3ds and want to try it out. There's also talk of IPS screens being better and the New2ds XL, 3ds XL and DSi XL all use IPS screens, so people are scalping them or raising prices.

[buckevantommy]

Arranged marriage and online friends au! 😊

Buck realises after two months of emailing back and forth that he doesn't actually know what Tommy looks like. And it's bugging him.

It's not like he wasn't aware of it before; Tommy has been a faceless presence across the digital void, features interchangeable with B-role actors and strangers on the street until Buck had given up trying to put someone else's likeness to someone unlike anyone he's ever met. Still technically hasn't.

After this long, he considers Tommy a friend. Buck just wishes he could put a face to the words.

There have been context clues helping piece together an image of what he might look like - brown hair (at least no one noticed the mud in my hair. I'll have to make sure to schedule time for a shower next time I want to take Annie for a jog in the park before a work event), defined muscles (not that lugging around spare car parts isn't its own workout, but I do have a standing appointment with my trainer to get to. I'm sorry I have to cut this short), tall (Granted, it's easier to get a good look at an engine when you have the height to bend over and not lose your footing) - but no descriptions and definitely no photos (unless you count the pics of his rescue dog Annie and a cameo appearance of his sneakers, which Buck wants to but they don't exactly fill in the blanks).

It probably doesn't matter. It's not like they're ever going to meet in person - Buck is on the west coast and Tommy's on eastern time. They can't just casually meet up for coffee when there's a dozen states between them.

He's not sure Tommy would even want to. Because while Tommy has tossed a few crumbs of his appearance Buck's way over the past eight and a half weeks, Tommy doesn't have to wonder about Buck in return. Because Buck had linked his insta account in his second email. It was the quickest way to show Tommy the state of his beloved Wrangler Renegade given he was at work and it was currently taking up space in Eddie's yard. Tommy sure knows his engines, even from photos that likely didn't show the whole story. With Bobby and Eddie's help (and with Chris being more help than Eddie) they managed to pinpoint the problem thanks to Tommy - something multiple mechanics couldn't nail down let alone fix, instead giving Buck the same excuse of how an old engine with that many miles was bound to give up the ghost sooner or later.

Buck took the jeep up the coast for the first time on his recent 48 off - the first time since his cross-country tour led him to the 118 and a few weeks in she'd stalled out and hadn't been the same since. But there was no sputtering, no chugging fits, no weird noises. Just miles of highway being eaten up under her wheels.

And he couldn't even picture the face of the person he wanted to thank. Maybe it was silly, or petty, but Buck couldn't shake his annoyance at Tommy having never sent him a photo of himself. He totally gets the anonymity of the internet, especially with forums, but he really thought they were becoming friends. Thought they'd keep emailing even if they managed to fix the Renegade.

He also hadn't heard from Tommy in over a week, so maybe that was adding to his irritation. And worry. As soon as they got her running smoothly, Buck posted a video of the jeep to insta and sent Tommy the link. He posted a few more pics of her on the road north and thanked him in the caption:

couldn't have done it without your help T 🌅🚙💻🛠️

Tommy knows how much this jeep means to him, and the more Buck thinks about it the more certain he is that the radio silence isn't like Tommy. He was looking forward to an update! It was the last thing he wrote: Keep me updated!, exclamation mark and all. Maybe he had to go away suddenly for work. Or his computer died. Or his email got hacked. Maybe something happened to him - he could be hurt, or sick, or worse. Maybe he read your emails and saw your posts and knows he fixed the problem so now he's done with you.

Buck stews in that thought longer than he should. It's not impossible, it just. Hurts. He likes Tommy. And screw distance - he wants to keep emailing and getting to know each other. Maybe Buck will get called out east for a nautral disaster (okay, not a great reason) or some kind of specialty training program. Or Tommy will travel out west for work.

Work which he's been pretty vague about, come to think of it. Buck doesn't actually know what he does - some kind of office-type job, going by the mentions of suits and gladhanding. Tommy knows Buck is a firefighter in L.A., but the nature of Tommy's work has been left mostly up to Buck's imagination. Maybe he's a special agent. Or a criminal. Or in witness protection. Or maybe the thought of a secretive existence helps soothe the ache of his abandonment issues; Tommy would reach out if he could but extenuating cirumstances are stopping him.

It happens to be a q-word shift which means no calls to distract him. Pocketing his phone, Buck sinks into the couch and turns on the tv desperate for something to take his mind off Tommy. Taylor Kelly is reporting from the studio these days, no longer chasing stories with a cameraman in a shady white van.

"..And now to political news. Vice President Kinard today announced the long-awaited engagement of his son to the eldest daughter of prominent Senator Olivia Ortiz. Thomas Kinard is the Vice President's only child, and the union is expected to strengthen ties.."

As Taylor talks, photos overlay on-screen: a professional family portrait complete with closed-mouth smiles; a young man - Thomas Kinard - in a khaki flightsuit standing in front of a military chopper; a college graduation gown.

"..Thomas Kinard minored in Mechanical Engineering.."

Another image: tall and broad and now with a mop of brown curls competing in a marathon and helping someone cross the finish line with their arm slung over his shoulders.

It's a minor detail. He doesn't even know why he notices. But Buck's eyes are drawn to his sneakers: Thomas is wearing a black pair with white half-trim and a reflective trapezoid on the heel. Not anything unusual, except that the guy he's helping is wearing a neon yellow pair that somehow didn't catch Buck's attention.

The next image shows an animal shelter and a small crowd of volunteers in candid and posed photos. In one of the candid shots, Thomas can be seen crouching to pet a familiar looking dog.. Annie.

No fucking way.

"..Tommy?"

doing this thing

[froot-batty]

Losers!

@sarseemd I still love the name Lightning Bugs for them so I'm yoinking that !! It's canon now !! Friendship name !!

Garfield Lynns was born and raised in Gotham - more specifically, in one of the many run-down apartment complexes in the Narrows. They had no idea what happened to their parents, for as long as they could remember they'd been raised by their three older brothers. "Raised" was a pretty strong word, though. Their brothers were a gang of well-known arsonists, and often either completely neglected Gar, forced them to do tasks for them, or yell at/bully him.

Due to how Gar was raised, they developed a fascination with fire from a pretty young age. They were never allowed to participate in the arson (or anything that their brothers were working on; they saw them as a nuisance), so Gar would watch as they made firebombs or flamethrowers - or watch the destruction their work would cause on the news.

One day, when Gar was 16, they decided that they had absorbed enough knowledge that they thought they could improve on their brother's weapons (and hopefully gain their approval in the process). They actually didn't end up being terrible at designing the mechanism or the weapons themselves - the problem came when Gar was attempting to mix chemicals. Gar was not the best at chemistry at the time, and their inexperience would result in an unexpected reaction in a mixture, one that let off sparks that would eventually reach the numerous HIGHLY flammable things in the apartment.

The resulting fire would not only render most of the apartment complex unlivable, but it would completely decimate Gar's home. It also killed all three of their brothers, who didn't wake up in time to escape the fire.

Gar, however, would end up living - in critical condition, with most of their body covered in burns. However, instead of being traumatized by the event, it would actually trigger a full obsession with fire in Gar. In their eyes, the fire had gotten rid of something that had kept Gar under lock and key for their entire life; it made them feel powerful.

So, the moment Gar was able to, they fled from the hospital. This is when their first crime spree would happen - little more than just them with a lighter and some gas setting things ablaze, but it was still destructive enough that it caught the attention of Batman.

Bats would recognize this was the same kid from the apartment explosion, so in the hopes that they'd be rehabilitated before continuing down this path, he took them off to Arkham (Gar was 18 by this point). Bats didn't know that this would eventually make even more of a headache for himself.

Maisy Zapropoulos Maxie Zeus was first born in Crete, though her parents would move to Gotham after they were both offered jobs at WayneTech. Her parents were strict, no-nonsense people, and had high expectations for their daughter right off the bat. They were the type of people that thought children should never step out of line, and that with enough punishment and reprimanding, bad behavior would be corrected.

So, when Maxie started acting out as a young kid - getting into fights, destroying property, stealing - this was unacceptable to them. But instead of getting her any kind of help for her then undiagnosed conduct disorder, they thought that with enough of a firm hand, they could fix what was "wrong" with her.

This obviously only made her act out even worse. She would take out the anger and the pain of her living situation on anything and anyone around her. She would start being an excessively cruel bully to her peers in school, when she would even go to school. Half of the time she would skip to go and shoplift or spray paint on the side of buildings.

Her behavior would eventually get so out of control her school decided to expel her. At this point, she was only 15, and none of what her parents were trying to do to "fix" her was working. In their eyes, this was the final straw that cemented her as a disappointment. A lost cause.

So they packed up her things and took her to Arkham Asylum. They didn't particularly care if it would actually get her help; they just wanted to get her off their hands. They signed custody of her over to the director of Arkham, Hugo Strange, and abandoned her there.

Maxie only kept acting out in the Asylum. She was alone, angry, and had even more of her life controlled by other people - hurting people or destroying things was the only way she felt like she had any freedom at all. At the time, Arkham still had a lot of outdated medical practices. Their goal is not to help people, and it certainly isn't Hugo's goal.

Maxie would end up being sent routinely to get electroshock treatment. The word "treatment" was mostly a cover, though - Hugo was interested to see what high amounts of electricity would do to the human body and mind. She'd spend so much time in there that the room they did the electroshock would be given the nickname Maxie's Room - as she spent more time in there than her actual room.

You'd think that this constant bombardment of electricity (oftentimes far too high than what is considered safe for an already dangerous practice) would just completely fry her brain. But, to the surprise of Strange...it didn't.

Maybe the shocks had triggered something in her DNA; some kind of inhuman gene most people didn't have. But her body slowly gained the ability to store electricity within it, to be expelled at will through her limbs. At first, they had no idea how this worked, and it led to a lot of explosive accidents when Maxie ended up not being able to control her newfound powers (this is when Strange got that scar on his arm!). Eventually, they'd make her those gauntlets and the sandals she wears, which allow her to safely and precisely channel her electricity.

By the time Gar was sent to Arkham, Maxie had already gained her powers. When Gar arrived, she saw another person she could make fear her - or, at least, that's what she thought. She was genuinely caught off-guard when Gar was nothing but friendly to her. They thought she was ridiculously cool!

It was the first time in her life that someone had ever been nice to her. And, for Gar, they lept on any chance to have a real friend (they were already used to being put down constantly by their brothers, it made dealing with Maxie easier). Their path to becoming friends was not an easy one, but they were both desperately lonely kids who just needed someone that got them. And they got each other!

Gar would be the person to give her the name Maxie Zeus. Maxie came from Gar accidentally mishearing her first name at the time, which they thought was funny enough to keep using, and Zeus was a play on the fact she's Greek, has lightning powers, and her last name started with a Z. Maxie would eventually completely adopt this name, since she'd always hated the connection with her family that her old one had.

Ever since then, they're completely inseparable. They go to Arkham together, they escape Arkham together, they cause destruction across Gotham together. If you ever hear that they've broken out of Arkham, you'd best get on the bridge to head out of Gotham, because it's going to be covered in fire and lightning before too long.

[adobe-outdesign]

thoughts on the wretched wocky? (some of the unconverted ones like the darigan wocky look so good but that blank unappealing not-quite-smile of the regular wockies makes me so, so angry for some reason. theyre looking at me the wrong way and im taking it personally)

I feel like Wockies have always had a bit of a problem standing out, as they are very plain Neopets—they don't really have a unique "hook". Dozens of Neopets have manes and fluffy tails, and Aishas have you covered if you're looking for something cat-like.

That said, I would argue that Wockies at least stand out in their stocky, incredibly fluffy body shape. If Aishas are house cats, then Wockies are basically Pallas Cats, only they hate the world slightly less. (They're also the most huggable Neopet, and I stand by this.)

Visually, they're super simple; just a chunky body with a mane to break things up a bit. I do have to state that I really don't care for the pink manes on the base colors though—I guess they were trying to match the ears/nose, but it looks a bit clashy (especially on red Wockies) and the brown eyes only worsen this. I think a darker/lighter tint of the base color or a neutral would've worked better there. Thankfully this is solely a problem with the base colors though, as most paint jobs have a more fitting mane color.

Of course, I can't talk about Wockies without talking about customization:

I'd argue that Wockies were one of the worst species conversions out there. At a glance, they look similar—until you notice that, inexplicable, the entire face completely changed. The rectangular eyes and awful thick eyebrows look so much worse than the original design. (Also, the feet are too pronounced on the converted design, but that's beside the point.) And what's weird is that there was literally no reason for this change, and it in no way relates to the actual conversion requirements—the artist seemingly just woke up one day and decided that they really, really hated Wockies. An absolute shame.

Favorite Colors:

Elderly: This color combo literally just came out last month, but it's already a standout for me. These guys have a really charming elderly cat look, complete with slightly ruffled fur, Siamese and tabby markings respectively, and a folded ear on the males. The clothes are also, for the most part, nice neutral colors (though I find the female's hair curlers jarring, especially due to how the eyebrows clip over them. They can be removed though so no worries there). What's also great is that the base colors are lovely in and of themselves if the clothing doesn't do it for you.

Darigan: I have to give the Darigan Wocky points for one simple reason: it's one of the only converted Wocky colors that fixes the godforsaken rectangle eyes, which already makes it look better than a lot of Wockies. Beyond that though it's also a pretty solid color all around. I'm usually more of a purple Darigan person, but the red does work here, the giant horns are fun, and the mottled markings a nice touch. The UC has a wonderfully grumpy personality, but the converted version sticks to the design pretty perfectly otherwise.

Plushie: I feel like Plushie Wockies manage to make the original pink manes work, mostly because they're using a nice salmon pink combined with a more neutral blue, and they also made the eyes pink instead of having them be brown for no reason. The UC has a super cute body shape, but even the converted version still retains some very nice colors and patterns (though it does low-key bug me that the stitch line isn't properly centered on the face). Good stuff!

[jahayla-writes]

Note/confession: this was an unplanned fic that I’ve written to shamelessly offer myself some semblance of comfort (or as I told @ell0ra-br3kk3r , remedying me needing my Freddy fix after the events of my trip; which you’ll more or less read about below- except unlike y/n I don’t actually have Freddy to comfort me 😭)

Bite Me : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 2.3k wc, y/n is fortunate enough to be looked after by her wonderfully caring husband Freddy after her recent vacation took an unexpected turn. Fluff, hurt/sick comfort.

Warnings: not proofread yet, one curse right at the start, mentions of bug bites and bugs, mentions of bug bite symptoms and treatment (including prescriptions and other medical settings & topics), minor mentions of a small amount of blood (from scratching too hard).

“Fuck me,” y/n whimpered, her body feeling truly miserable. She had been on a trip with friends to several beaches over the last week and now she was covered in bites. Prior to being bitten by them, she’d never even heard of no see ums. But, that didn’t stop them from aggressively attacking all areas of y/n’s body.

Freddy frowned as he watched y/n twitch as she tried to restrain herself from scratching at the inflamed, red, aggravated bites. He’d been bitten by the particular bug only once before and only a handful of marks formed that time, but he still knew how terribly itchy the welts could be. He even recalled having wished to have been bitten by mosquitoes instead as no see ums are far worse. As such, Freddy felt horrible for his wife.

“We’re almost there, darling,” Freddy encouraged softly. He reached across the console to grab Y/N’s hand, his thumb cautiously rubbing the back of it while avoiding the multiple bites present there. When y/n hummed begrudgingly in response, Freddy gazed over at her and his eyes once again tried to scan just how many bites she was covered in. He’d tried to count them upon her return home, but she just wanted to sleep as she’d gotten in at the early hours of the morning today. Unfortunately, as Freddy suspected, y/n had only been able to get a couple hours of sleep before waking up due to the pain and discomfort. Therefore, he was now driving her to the urgent care clinic nearby to be seen.

Y/n had initially been against Freddy’s idea, feeling like she was utilizing resources that would be better used by others. But, after Freddy had made it a point to authentically count out each of the bumps on her right lower leg, she quickly changed her mind. Freddy had only counted the bites on the area between the base of her right knee and the top of her right ankle. Yet, his counting was cut off by y/n when he’d reached 146 bites in that area alone.

It wasn’t uncommon for no see ums to bite in bunches with multiple bites on an area. But, Freddy hadn’t seen anything like this before. He could only imagine the amount of bugs that had ventured onto her legs as they decided to make a meal of her. Especially when he realized it wasn’t just her lower right leg that was bitten countless times. Instead, Freddy quickly realized the bites also more than covered y/n’s upper right leg, all the way to her bum. His despair over her predicament increased when he’d seen that the red itchy bites had mapped all over both legs in the same manner, the fronts and backs of her arms from her hands to her shoulders, her neck, chest, and entire upper and middle back areas as well. As ridiculous and impossible as it was, Freddy wished he could’ve protected his lovely wife from such an awful occurrence.

Freddy knew he couldn’t reasonably expect to count every single bite, much less when driving. But, the simple fact that when he’d looked over to do so he’d seen her agony broke his heart. Freddy sighed as she clutched her hands tightly together to keep from scratching futilely at the marks. After stopping at the next light, he leaned over and pressed a sympathetic kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re miserable, but you’re doing so well, love,” Freddy encouraged.

Freddy prepared himself to try and convince y/n to take the vile-tasting liquid medication the doctor had passed her way. Only, before he could even open his mouth, she’d confirmed with the doctor the appropriate process and then promptly downed the cup in one go. In fact, Freddy’s suspicions of the severity of her condition were confirmed when she went for a second toss of the contents in the cup to be sure to not miss a single drop of the remedy. He brushed some hair from her face and handed her a glass of water to wash down the aftertaste, hating that was all he could do for her.

Freddy listened to the doctor’s advice very carefully, asking plenty of follow-up questions to ensure he knew how to best help his wife. He’d easily memorized that in addition to the liquid steroid medication she’d just taken, the doctor was prescribing y/n some very strong prescription antihistamines to take twice a day at home. Freddy had discussed bathing and showering restrictions with the provider, making mental note to not let her take anything other than a cold water bath or shower until the welts were resolved. He had to come to terms with the notion that y/n’s severe discomfort might not be fully remedied for over two weeks even with the treatment offered. Freddy hated that idea and wanted to cry when he saw y/n holding back tears over the thought of this lasting that long.

“Oohhh,” y/n whined, a sarcastic laugh exiting her lips after. “Gaaahhh, Freddyyyyyy,” she cried out. She shifted around in her husband’s passenger seat unable to get comfortable. “It, it iiiitttcchhesss”.

Freddy’s eyes flickered from the road briefly to look at y/n. He sighed deeply with a frown. “I know,” he replied solemnly. “But-, no darling, no scratching,” Freddy directed, pulling her arm away from her thigh.

“But,” y/n croaked, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how insanely itchy her entire body was. Not to mention, there was also this simultaneous burning sensation from the bites and she was exhausted from not sleeping. Y/n genuinely didn’t think she’d been that uncomfortable before without being in excruciating pain. “It itches so badly,” y/n pointed out weakly.

With his eyes turned back onto the road, Freddy took the hand of Y/N’s he’d grabbed moments before and brought it to his lips. He placed a loving kiss on the backside of her hand. “I’m truly sorry, darling,” he acknowledged, “but scratching, well, it’ll only make it worse”.

“Oh bite me,” y/n exclaimed, using her other hand to scratch her ankle aggressively.

Freddy sighed and shook his head. He understood her desire (to the extent he was capable of that is since her situation was far worse than anything similar that he’d ever had). But, he still despised the idea that she could be harming herself by doing so. As such, he tapped one of the few clear spots on her leg and lightly shook his head at her. “Besides,” Freddy murmured, opting for another approach to his response. “I’m afraid things biting you is what got you into this situation, no?” He teased playfully, earning an unamused glare from y/n despite her small whimperish laugh.

Y/n grimaced as the itchy sensation once again fluttered through her body from head to toe and back. She began rubbing her legs against each other in hopes of having the friction ease the desire to actually scratch the bites. Y/n knew it still wasn’t likely an ideal solution, but something had to give, and at least this way she wasn’t risking opening the welts.

“Darling, it’s time,” Freddy said as he entered their living room. He quickly passed y/n her favorite water bottle and one of her newly prescribed antihistamines. They both sighed in minimal relief as she visibly swallowed the pill. It was obvious they were both hoping the pill would start to help her discomfort soon.

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. She set the water bottle down, a small smile forming as she realized her husband had explicitly cleaned her emotional support water bottle for her to use. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, noticing the confusion the sentiment made form on Freddy’s face. “I’m being difficult and whiny,” y/n admitted, “I know I am, but-“.

“Y/n, love,” Freddy coed warmly. He cupped her face; partially choosing that contact option because it was the only part of her body he could touch without further igniting the itching feeling constantly inside of her. “You can whine and complain all you want,” he said tenderly. “You’re in an absurdly unpleasant and downright desolate state,” Freddy frowned in sympathy. “You’re not being difficult by wanting to, or actually scratching, you are fighting the urge the best you can. I know that.” “Why don’t we watch something on the telly to distract you a bit?” Freddy suggested considerately.

“I am freaking miserable,” y/n said in a singsong voice. She laughed humorously as she slid her shorts back on over her irritated skin, restraining from scratching the bites. She heard Freddy’s sympathetic sigh over the faint sound of his footsteps as he made his way to their bathroom. Y/n turned on the sink faucet, groaning as she prepared to wash her hands with warm water for sanitary purposes despite knowing how much worse her symptoms would be as a result.

Just as the water trickled onto Y/N’s hand, she noticed a small bug on her left at the edge of the vanity corner. It was some small black bug, but that’s all she could tell from that angle. As such, she reached over and moved the decorative item that was blocking her eyes from determining what kind of bug it was that had broken into her home. Y/n quickly realized it was a tiny spider as it began dangling from a thin web against the wall.

Without hesitating or even thinking, Y/N smacked her bare palm against the bug. The realization of what she’d just done hit her instantaneously as she pulled her hand back and saw the squished black mark on the white bathroom wall. “I don’t fuck around with bugs anymore,” she declared thoughtlessly. Y/n didn’t realize how unhinged her behavior or remark were until she heard the way Freddy’s chuckles reverberated around their restroom.

Y/n swallowed thickly as she hurriedly washed her hands. She tried to hide her bashful expression as she spun to where Freddy was in order to dry her hands. Only, it seemed he’d noticed and it only fueled his laughter further. Y/n shot him a fake glare that quickly shifted as she burst into genuine laughter of her own over her actions.

“Bloody hell,” Freddy laughed. He snaked his arms around y/n’s lower back to avoid most of her bites. “I am absolutely enamored by you, y/n/n,” he confessed with an amused grin. “And, quite impressed, you not only didn’t ask me to kill the spider for you, but you used your bare palm to do so on your own and then trash talked it,” Freddy said as he shook his head.

Y/n giggled and cautiously rested her head against Freddy’s shoulder. She made sure she was positioned so that none of the areas of her skin that were covered in bites touched her husband. Not because they were contagious, as they weren’t, but rather to keep her symptoms from increasing. “Let’s not talk about that again,” y/n hummed bashfully.

“Oh, but, darling, we have to talk about that all again still,” Freddy argued playfully. He laughed lightheartedly at y/n’s exaggerated groan, knowing the giggles that followed it showed her true feelings over the situation.

Freddy gasped whisperingly as he entered the bedroom. He figured it was taking y/n too long to change into her pajamas, so he’d wandered that way to check on her and possibly offer some help. Only, it seemed her discomfort had intensified to the point she’d caved into the burning desire to scratch at the inflamed bites. For, Freddy had entered the bedroom to find y/n rapidly scratching any and all areas of her body she could get her hands on; her hands flying around as they moved between areas with aggressively intense speed and force. Yet, it was the already visible result of such actions that made Freddy uncontrollably gasp.

“Oh love,” Freddy whined quietly. He could only imagine how bad her body was feeling if she had resorted to painfully dragging her nails all over her skin in hopes of even temporary relief. Especially as she’d done so to the extent that several of the once red-from-inflammation welts were now red from the trace amount of blood that had begun to leave the now open bites.

Instead of scolding y/n for something he knew was a last resort effort for her, Freddy exited the bedroom and quickly returned with a wet towel. “Let’s clean these off with a cold cloth, yeah?” He suggested as he knelt down before her seated position at the edge of their bed. “Place your hands on my shoulders please, darling,” Freddy requested, planning on using that as a way to keep her from continuing to violently scratch at her body. “Perfect, thank you,” he hummed as he slowly brought the cold cloth to her bare skin.

Freddy took his time cleaning the blood from y/n’s skin. He had intentionally taken longer than was necessary because he recalled how the doctor mentioned a cold compress could help ease the inflammation and therefore hopefully the itching. It was only once Freddy had felt the cloth reach room temperature that he fully removed it from her skin.

When he heard y/n sigh quietly in slight disappointment, Freddy realized instead of ending the round of treatment, he should step up his game. As such, he held onto Y/N’s hands as they remained on his shoulders and lowered them to his chest as he stood. “Darling,” Freddy spoke softly before he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to draw you a cold bath, we’ll give that a try”.

Unfortunately, this went on for quite some time. But, Freddy never gave up on his efforts to ease y/n’s misery. And, no matter how bad it got, y/n was never able to feel truly desolate because she knew her husband would do whatever he could to help her. Eventually, things resolved and Freddy attested that he was going to be sure to remind her to pack & use bug spray for all of her travels even if he wasn’t there to apply it to her skin himself.

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @el-de-phi

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[whirligig-girl]

an angry rant about ksp

Disclaimer. KSP is, overall, a very good game. But it can be frustrating. This is not a negative review, it's me getting some frustrations off my chest.

Has anyone else ever noticed that Kerbal Space Program had sorta got worse over time? Like, it's also gotten better, new features were added, bugs were fixed, but I feel like basic parts of the game experience that used to be smooth and functional have been left to rot. New features or small changes made that might have had some useful advantages, but which make the experience just worse.

Here's three anecdotes about that.

Explosions. Most KSP players don't even remember a time when this was true, but did you know that if you crashed a rocket in KSP, it didn't always cause the game to stutter or freeze? If you go back and play old pre-alpha versions like 0.13.3 which are still available, or if you happen to have a copy of the alpha versions like 0.18 or 0.20, you would find that like, yeah, these are worse versions and are missing a lot of features, but exploding rockets, like, just works.

And like it or not, but exploding rockets is a core part of KSP's gameplay. It's half of how it sells itself. Probably a slim majority of players will build absurd designs, watch them crash, and never reach the Mun, and they'll have a lot of fun with it anyway.

But. Like. When you do crash. You. have. to watch. it. frame by frame. as it. writes blast awesomeness to the log. or recalculates the vessel tree. or. whatever it's doing. I don't know the technical side of things when it comes to parts and vessels, I'm a planet girlie. Either way, it saps all the joy you could get out of watching the drama of a rocket failure. It's just a slog. I looked up this issue and it seems the community consensus is it's inherent and unfixable. But like. It's not in older versions!

I'm sure whatever change they made that causes that bug was like, good and important or whatever. But that they don't seem to have accounted for how much worse it makes this key part of the game.

Pinned Orbits. The original design philosophy behind the map view was to not let the view get unnecessarily cluttered up, so as to enhance readability and minimize the slope of the learning curve. To see the apoapsis or periapsis would require mousing over them. But eventually players and Squad realized that this was slightly tedious, and they implemented the ability to pin the apoapsis or periapsis marker to see their numerical values onscreen. Genuinely good feature, very useful, however.

The button to pin the orbit is right click. The right click button is also the control used for changing a maneuver node between velocity mode and delete/orbit increment mode. And most maneuvers will be done right at periapsis or apoapsis, and will end with the maneuver having an apsis near it. So if you try to right click a maneuver node. Good luck, because the game would rather display the numerical values of the apsides instead. It's fine. It can be worked around. But what was supposed to be a quality of life improvement became a quality of life detriment.

Orbit Encounter Prediction. When you make maneuvers in current versions of KSP, or even burn manually, you'll sometimes run into flickering trajectories, encounters that the game's not sure if you have or not. Small changes to your orbit can completely get rid of the encounter. Eventually you realize the encounter isn't even on this orbit, it may be tens or hundreds of days into the future. This is especially common in the Jool system.

It is probably the worst bug on this list, because it takes an intuitive and useful manuever prediction system that like, sets the standard for orbital mechanics games, and it makes it messy and clunky and unintuitive and difficult. When planning encounters you have to check if the displayed encounter will actually happen on this orbit or not. Sometimes it will decide not to show an encounter that you definitely do have, which can lead to catastrophe. Sometimes it would rather show you a far future encounter than let you see your close approaches for this orbit.

And it didn't used to do this! I tracked the bug down to 1.8.0, which was a change to the unity version. And the bug was never fixed in the remaining few years of KSP development. Saps all the fun out of the Jool system and lots of complex planet mod systems.

But KSP 1.12.5 has a ton of features and bugfixes that 1.7.3 doesn't have, and all the best mods are on 1.12.5. so i have to put up with it.

[nicoforlifetrue]

im writeing a fic for plot swap

so the plot swap post has turned into an entire fic, with a plot chart and everything, this is going to be the basic outline for the difference in au vs cannon considering canon color crew plus purple minus orange are going to be in the au. call this the character chart. if you want to go into the au blind when i post it ignore this

Alan Becker, aka the creator, dad

actually a good stick dad, and cared for them as best he could, currently mia after the hollow heads watched him collapse and be taken away by people. the hollows are doing everything they can to find him.

Victim Becker, aka the firstborn, Vic, was an accidental creation

created rocket corp in an attempt to find the creator, runs it not to dissimilar to a mafia, ruthless with anyone perceived as being in the way, over protective of his brothers has mercs watching them near constantly so nothing can happen to them. considers his siblings an ace up his sleeve if the cards are down considering there powers are much stronger then his.

the chosen one Becker, aka the second born, cho, tco, one, created to give vic someone to spend time with

after a brief stent of destruction after alans disappearance and the pc shutting down now spends most of his time either training second or keeping the home feeling like home, the only sibling actually copeing instead of just trying to fix the problem, he and alan worked on his temper but after alans disappearance its almost as bad as when he was born.

the dark lord Becker, aka the third born, dark tdl, created to give cho someone to spar with

the most laid back after Alan's vanishing, but handling it worse then cho, has not processed what's happening at all, takes his bursts of rage out on any website that bugs him even slightly, vic encourages this, spends most days tearing the web apart trying to locate any sign of alan or sneaking second away from the mercs to go mess around in the city.

the second coming becker, aka the youngest child, sec, tsc, orange, also a complete accident

having only been around for two weeks before his dads vanishing act he blames himself for it, hasnt met any of his friends yet and is lonely, clinging to his brothers for interaction, has really bad social anxiety yet always running away from his babysitters to try and make friends, most of his brothers fear as a result of there dad vanishing has focused onto him, resulting in them being over protective. powers activated when the pc shut down, has a very basic grasp on them but they tend to react to his emotions without his imput.

the color crew(red green blue and yellow)

where never broken out of their game and are still there stuck, sick of being stuck in the fighting loop.

mango tango, aka mt, dad

suspicious of rocket corp but keeping his head down for his family, never went on his rampage because gold never died. retired professional fighter teaching gold how to fight and teaching purple he doesn't have to fight, current stay at home dad.

lilac, aka mom

also suspicious of rocket corp and is also better at keeping her head down then her husband, divorced navy when purple was six and her then husband broke their kids arm, marryed MT when purple was eight, works as a software engineer, her company is offten hired by rocket corp. her illness was treatable because of vic digging into hospital record and other such databases in an attempt to find alan, leading to her actually getting a diagnosis and eventual recovery. she can no longer work in the field and works from home most days, refuses to let MT get a job so she can quit, she likes her work too much and she knows he adores spending so much time with the kids.

marigold, aka gold, big sister

unaware of her parents worry's, is two years older then purple and wants to be a professional fighter like her dad, didn't die because the hollows had gone to the fair before them, and sec had gone in when the error was made but instead of dyeing his powers teleported him to freedom. dosent have any freinds because her energy scares most people away, she dosnt mind. she asks too many questions in too public places for her parents liking, shes going to get into something she cant get out of one of these days.

purple, aka little brother

very aware of his parents concerns, also doesn't have any friends so spends most of the time with his sister, interested in the use of icons outside of their apps, aka one of the things rocket corp specializes in, try's to keep his head down but he's got a strong sense of justice that doesn't like keeping quite

[loudkidsoulfreak]

i lowkey feel like black organization stop bugging shinichi's mind the moment he finally get his body back. i don't think he will completely stop pursuing BO even if he got the permanent antidote early (because his friends and family would still be put in danger if shinichi being found out to be alive).

but for the short amount of time he did able to live his life as shinichi thanks for the prototype antidote, he never seem to really that bothered by it as much as conan. the only moment when we see the black org actually still on the back of his mind is when he's is asking the police to not credit his name in the cases he solved, and the first two time being conan and heiji to say it, not shinichi.

i commonly see ran's writing being criticized that she's stuck with the love interest role. and frankly enough, i feel the same could be said for shinichi too (well, maybe not as worse since he's still have the detective role in a detective manga). still, his lack of involvement to BO plot as shinichi is something.

but even so, i really not sure how i would like shinichi to be more involved in BO plot either. being conan is just so much safer and more convenient. maybe aoyama gosho wanna save it for the final battle or sth who know. (also this is why for the longest time, i thought shinran would be canon after we done with the BO plot, it just make more sense to me)

the lack of shinichi involvement with BO could be very easily fixed if gosho actually address his identity issues instead just giving some tiny hint about it and sweep it all under the rug. but of course... gosho don't like his male main character looking weak or whatever bullshit... (kaito also fall victim to this one btw)

oh damn i forgot that in m13 irish asked SHINICHI, not conan, to promise to keep pursuing the black org. damnnnn that's mean if we ever get an arc where shinichi got his body back to facing BO, it would be an irishin moment (to me)