#because its nearly exactly what i wanted/predicted

[viir-tanadhal]

should i just make a rambling post about all my thoughts about nonetheless. maybe i should

[couragemydearheart]

៚⋆˙⟡ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬.

# 01 — nanami kento x fem! reader # 02 — cw: fluff, soft soft nanami and soft soft reader because that man deserves all the happiness he can get # 03 — wc: 0.63k # 04 — an: so jujutsu kaisen is my latest obsession because i finished watching it just recently, and i just loved nanami so much, he didn't deserve what he got (like so many other favs T-T GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE) so i decided to shower him with some loveee

and since i obviously needed a push, i came across this post and i loved the prompts so much, so thanks to @urfriendlywriter (i was in desperate need of writing prompts and finding your post on my dashboard was a fucking blessing) this one-shot will be based off no. 7! the prompt for reference is: "that gaze— tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you"."

anyways, apologies for the long ass author's note, hope y'all enjoy <3

"is that your favourite bread?"

those were your first words to nanami. and you found yourself repeating them quite often as your relationship with him evolved.

starting off as co-workers when you moved into town, you and nanami hadn't spoken a word to each other, or rather had never had a need to converse with the other until then. your co-workers were all friendly enough, but nearly all of them were older and had their own lives to be busy in. so you took it upon yourself to roam the new city on your own, finding and trying out new places, cute cafes, and of course your personal favourite: bakeries. a lover of all things sweet and savoury, you were nearly sure that you would open your own bakery after college were it not for this banking job you found. it was a shame you couldn't open your own place, but your new job paid you well enough to let you try out all the bakeries you wanted in peace. that was exactly how you came across this quaint little place a bit across town selling the most delicious bread.

so after spying the similar bread wrapping by his work desk nearly every week, you just hadn't been able to stop the words from leaving your mouth, especially since it was at the sight of a mutual interest.

it was however nanami's response that wasn't the same from the first time, and you were glad for it. when you asked him the question the very first time, he was rather indifferent, a bit surprised that someone had initiated conversation with him and slightly miffed about it interrupting his work. and now, nanami smiled at you fondly from the entrance of your shared kitchen where he leaned against the doorframe, before he took the bread from its place under his arm and placed it on the counter. "and yours, my love," he hums in reply to your question.

you couldn't help the giggle that slipped your lips at his reply as you turned the stove off and moved towards him. "mhmm." standing mere inches away from him now, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up until your fingers deftly undid the knot of his tie as they'd done countless times before. "that it is. a favourite just as much as you are, kento."

you could have predicted his response to your corny line in your sleep, the shaking of his shoulders with his throaty chuckle paired with the slightest eye roll. your smile widened at the light in his eyes, and you gripped his now unknotted tie and pulled him closer to you until you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips as he spoke. "really? just as much as the bread, but not more?"

he was teasing you, and you clicked your tongue at him, eyes full of mirth looking up at him. "don't get ahead of yourself now darling, we may be married but that doesn't-"

your voice dissolved into shrieks and giggles as nanami's fingers tickled and teased at your sides and his teeth nipped at your neck. "okay, okay, kento!" another little bite. "ken- okay i was kidding!," you whined at your husband, making him finally relent.

"what was it you were saying just now?" he mocked. "wanna repeat it for me, darling?"

“nooo, ken you know you’re my favourite.” you smiled up at him, eyes shining with so much love for the man before you. “more than anything else.”

and that gaze— tired, soft, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" before he presses a slow kiss to your lips and leans his forehead against yours. then he speaks.

"you're my favourite too, over everything else."

taglist

@luvhkit (hi, you'd asked to be tagged on a reiner fic i wrote ages ago and im writing after so long so idk if you meant just aot/reiner fics, but i tagged you just in case, so i hope this is okay and feel free to let me know otherwise <3) @nerdyfuntheorist (im backkkkk)

i hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i loved writingg! feedback is always appreciated and feel free to send in requests <3

— © property of couragemydearheart. do not copy or post on any other site without permission.

[star4daisy]

so it's been two months since I've wrote anything and thought this might be a good way to get back into it heheh

may: 1 to 4 prompts: rose, dread, illusion, hopeless words: 731 @rosekillermicrofic

There were a lot of things Barty had been expecting to feel: happiness, excitement, anticipation, love. What he hadn’t predicted was the dread.

The anxiety that was taking over his entire body made him twitchy enough that the flight attendant asked if he was alright. He told her he was fine and asked for another glass of whiskey. In truth, Barty felt like he might throw up at any moment from the prospect of seeing Evan again after a year.

They had parted ways amicably and agreed to remain friends while they were unable to see each other, neither of them knew the amount of time Barty would need to stay away to solve the matters of his inheritance and to whom his father’s company would belong. He tried to do everything as fast as he could to be able to come back home. To Evan.

Nonetheless, it took Barty way longer than he would’ve desired to stay apart from him. Enough time for him to see Evan had gone on a date with someone else. Someone who kept popping up on his social media from time to time, more regularly than Barty liked. Hell, if it was up to him there wouldn't be someone else at all. It made him want to break his phone in half.

Sure, they had agreed they could go out with other people, but it didn’t mean Evan should have wanted to, even though Barty had been the one to suggest it. It had been more out of the idea that he couldn’t keep himself from fucking everything up due to not being able to have sex with other people.

Not because he wanted them, but because it was how Barty dealt with the hard things. It always was whiskey and sex for him. Sometimes coke too, but if he needed to work on serious business he couldn’t be going to the company after snorting. Well, he could. But considering the amount of times he had fucked up due to it while his father was still alive, Barty thought it would be for the best to keep it only on the weekends. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fucked anyone else all year. He was only human. But he also knew it was different for Evan, he couldn’t have sex with people he didn’t have feelings for. So for him to take that step it meant something completely different than it did for Barty.

To be hurt by it might’ve been hypocrisy on his part, but he had never cared to be a good person. All that had ever mattered to him was to have Evan by his side. Barty had failed utterly like he did with most things in his life, or so his father used to claim.

Barty’s first vision of him looked like a dream, he couldn’t help but wonder if Evan was a figment of his imagination, an illusion that he’d been seeing ever since they had parted. Except that this version in front of him looked nothing like the one he’d been imagining. That version looked exactly like how Evan looked the last time they’d seen each other at the airport, his white dreadlocks pulled out of his face on a high ponytail that made his features even sharper. 

Now his hair was shaved but still discoloured, Barty had never thought he could look better and yet, once again, Evan managed. It was only when he was standing in front of him that Barty noticed Evan had been holding something in his hand.

A white rose.

“My rose,” were the first words out of Barty’s mouth.

“I missed you,” Evan didn’t look nearly as unsure as Barty had felt when he extended his hand and offered him the flower.

Barty took it, allowing their hands to brush together, he felt it nicking his skin and blood pooling out of it as soon as he held it. There were remains of dried blood on Evan’s hand too, Barty wondered how long Evan had been standing there waiting for him holding the beautiful rose close to his chest while it tore his hands apart.

Evan hadn’t bothered taking the thorns out of it. He never did. Barty didn’t bother stopping the too-wide smile that wanted to tear its way out of his face.

Perhaps they weren’t as hopeless as he once had thought.

[saskiahaggens]

𝔍𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰

Masterlist

Contains spoilers of season 2!!

Paring: Chishiya x blind!reader

Warnings: death, blood

Word count: 1161

Chishiya placed a hand on your back when you arrived to the game. He said that he only wanted to make sure you were following him since you never knew what may happen. Especially after you had to put on a collar.

You lost your ability to see as a child, but you were not helpless. You can navigate by making little noises like humming, and predict walls, stairs, distances, and much more. You could typically go around without assistance, but when there were a lot of people at a game or at the beach, you could get disoriented. You met Chishiya in a game and even saved his life thanks to your incredible hearing abilities and he hasn't left your side since.

"Do you hear this?", you inquired after coming to a halt.

You most likely arrived in the room where the game started. At the very least, Chishiya came to a stop.  A strange noise was heard a few minutes later. Was it… skin slapping? Chishiya chuckled at your expression as you realized what it was.

More and more people entered the room, and with each one, you came closer to Chishiya. According to their steps, there are at least 21 people in here.

The rules were then explained, and your heart almost stopped beating. You couldn't help Chishiya. How was he going to survive? You couldn't tell him what his symbol was.

"Calm down," Chishiya said as he noticed you becoming anxious.

A girl approached you and invited you to join her group. Chishiya poked your arm, signaling that he was right and accepted her offer.

After a few rounds, nearly everyone was dead. Even Chishiyas' new friend died in the last round. He was a kind person, perhaps too kind for this world.

"Chishiya, I'm sorry.", you mumbled.

You sat down in the storeroom and drank a soda. A guy left just moments ago and he didn't want to tell Chishiya his symbol.

"It's not your fault.", he groaned as he rubbed his temple.

"You know something right? You need to know something. You always do."

"Not at the moment."

Chishiya stood up and walked away a few steps. You heard some rustling and a few moments later you felt something in your hand.

"What is this?" you questioned, attempting to guess the thing.

"My favorite snack in here," he grumbled.

Meanwhile, another person entered the room. It was the lady. The sound of her shoes was familiar to you.

"Would you mind telling me my symbol?"

Chishiya stood up to ask her, but all you could hear was rustling from the same direction Chishiya had been minutes before. Said man continued trying to convince her, but she turned around and headed straight toward you.

"Hey, could you please give me this?" she asked, undoubtedly pointing to the pack of cookies in your hand.

"They can't see what you're pointing at." Chishiya remarked instead.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize." The noises her clothes made and her silence meant she bowed, what made you chuckle.

"Just take it.", you said, perhaps a little harshly.

Did Chishiya knew that she was coming? Whatever his reasons were, the woman took the snacks and walked away quickly.

"She didn't even say thank you.", you muttered as Chishiya sat down for the third time.

"Maybe, but now I have a chance to win."

"What do you mean?", you asked confused, but still a bit happy.

"Sometimes it's annoying that you can't see, otherwise you would have noticed it too. I'll give you a hint: these cookies have four different flavors."

Four different flavors? What is the importance of this? After some thinking, you understood what he was talking about.

"She communicates with this other guy who was here earlier!  I assumed they just ate a lot because they came here every round. So the bag cookies you handed me were the last of its kind?"

"Not exactly, I hid the rest, but it still worked. Matsushita, the guy who she cooperates with took the same one as her, even so she had hearts."

"So he is the jack of hearts!"

"Yes. So, based on Kotoko's response when I mentioned having clubs and the fact that Matsushita most likely lied. I must have diamonds or spades."

"At least you have a fifty-five chance now. Couldn't you just ask someone else?"

"That's not a good idea. The time is nearly over, and I'm not sure if they'll tell me the truth."

You both returned upstairs, but were interrupted by none other than the criminal himself.

"Hey you!" You stopped, but to your surprise Chishiya didn't.

"Who do you think is the jack of hearts?"

He caught you off guard, but you just brushed it off.

"Perhaps it's me."

"Than you would have a stupid strategy. Be honest."

"You're not dumb. Why don't you figure it out yourself? Must be easy with a partner like yours."

"Well then. This guy you're walking around with has a diamond. I hope you survive, the fun only starts now, would be a shame if you miss it."

🂡🂡🂡

You were eventually permitted to go after fourteen hours. Banda told Chishiya his symbol for the last round, and you thanked him excessively. He just laughed at you, but you didn't care.

"Hey, Y/n?", Chishiya asked when you walked away from the arena.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, listen, I'm not a man of great words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. That's why I don't want you to play in the next game, alright?"

"I don't want you to risk your life alone, Chishiya."

"I understand, and I also understand that the king of spades is dangerous, which is why you will wait near the arena. Nobody is playing games to extend their visa anymore. They are well aware that the end is near and that playing games is the only way to avoid the king of spades."

"Are you trying to say that my visa doesn't matter anymore, because we will get home soon?"

"I will make sure of it."

"Chishiya, you've changed. To be honest, when I first met you, I hated you."

"I don't blame you. Back then, I was a jerk."

"Yes you were.", you mumbled before leaning closer to him.

You kissed his cheek lightly, and Chishiya was relieved that you couldn't see him blush.

"I might have hated you before, but I can tolerate you now."

"Looks like more than tolerating to me.", he joked, throwing his arm over your shoulder. "You're lucky, I like you. When this is all over, maybe we should go on a date."

When you started walking, you smiled like a child. Perhaps you should, and perhaps he was right. Maybe it'll all be over soon.

[dwtdog]

My work for Project: End Poem :D

i like this player / it played well / it did not give up

I like this player.

Dream’s shitty apartment is too small for pacing, but he does it anyway. Back and forth and back and forth over and over, the sounds of his footsteps drowned out by the buzz of his thoughts.

He’s felt out of balance for a while now- ever since he uploaded that first video. Before (before before before) everything was planning and studying and notes and calls with anyone he could get to agree to it. And then it had become filming and editing and that eternal moment before he pushed the button that would make the video public. A beginning. And an ending, of the before. 

Planning had felt real. He could scroll through the words upon words stored in documents, or even rifle through the notebook he kept on his desk, the pages soft and well-used in his hands, his writing jumbled and messy. But the numbers now- they feel like a dream, almost fittingly. Climbing impossibly higher every time he checks, far surpassing any expectation he’d had. 

But they can’t be real, because he can’t pay his rent this month.

His savings have run dry, exactly in the amount of time he’d predicted they would. It had been more than enough time. But he can’t pay rent.

His parent's words echo in his head- if you do this, you won’t be moving back in with us. That had certainly lit a fire under his ass- prove them wrong, prove everyone wrong. But the time is ticking down, and he can’t pay rent.

Oh, sure, the money’s on the way. His first check from YouTube, delayed by paperwork, is more than enough to cover this month’s and the next. But it’s not here. And the numbers keep going up, but Dream’s life is the same. Same shitty apartment, same 24 hours in a day.

His laptop sits open on his bed, and he’s doing his best to avoid looking at it. The looping screensaver plays on repeat, catching in the corner of his eye when he passes it, and he has half a mind to close the damn thing, end its taunting. Oh, you thought you could make something of yourself online? Think again. 

He freezes in the middle of the room so abruptly that he nearly falls forward with the momentum of it. 

And before he can talk himself out of it, he scoops the laptop up and enters his password, starting a Teamspeak call before all but running to his desk to grab headphones and returning to sit on his bed with the laptop balanced on his thighs, the call initiating. 

This is a familiar action- late night (early morning?) calls with friends. Dream has never been shy about asking his friends for input on ideas, or thoughts of their own, especially his friends who are well-established in the field he wants to play. It's them he has to thank for a large part of his motivation. And it's them he calls on now, when his mind spells doom and his circumstances feel suffocating.

“Dream?” a voice asks, marred by digital interference but comforting all the same.

Dream smiles at the screen. “Bad,” he says. “I might need your help.”

“New video idea?” Bad asks, and the quality of the call seems to settle, Bad’s voice far clearer. He yawns, and Dream makes a point of not looking at the time. 

“Not quite,” Dream mumbles.

“What was that?”

“It’s not a video idea. Or anything similar,” he swallows. As confident as Dream is in his friends, money is a different matter. Can ruin lives, friendships, and especially new YouTube channels if one isn’t careful.

Bad hums reassuringly. “Whatever it is, you can ask. I can’t guarantee that I can help but it never hurts to ask.”

“You’re so wise Bad,” Dream jokes. “And old.” He feels himself relaxing, and in tandem, his mind clears. 

“Aren’t you asking for my help? I could leave right now.”

“No, no! I’m sorry, You’re not old,” Dream says quickly, adding not that old to himself. 

“That’s what I thought,” Bad says smugly, and Dream can hear his chair squeaking and imagines him leaning back in it with his arms crossed, although, strangely, his minds eye seems to envision Bad as a the shape of a person with his Minecraft character overlaid, rather than the very real person Dream knows Bad to be, and has seen on video. He’s been spending too much time inside- it’d be good to get out once the rent issue is solved.

“Well,” Dream starts. “I told you about my problems getting money from YouTube, right?” 

“You did.”

Dream sighs, thinking of all the trouble it’d been so far just to get the first check. “Well, it’s still not here. And my rent is due in a few days, and if it doesn’t get here in time I’m- I’m out of luck. And money.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Dream, you muffinhead, how much do you need?”

And Dream giggles, the small smile on his face growing impossibly bigger as he tells Bad the amount, and as they go back and forth on whether Bad should just send the money right away (Dream argues that there’s still a chance the money could come in time, while Bad says he might as well just send it now- just in case).

In the end, they hang up the call a half hour later, Dream’s worries assuaged and with a promise to Bad that he’d tell him immediately if he’ll need the money.

And when Dream wakes up the next day to a check from YouTube deposited in his account, it’s not just Bad who joins a call to celebrate with him- George and Sapnap are there too, and finally, finally, everything feels real.

It played well

“That was perfect!” his instructor says, and Dream smiles before slouching against the wall, entirely out of breath.

No one ever told him dancing would be so hard.

Well, some had. His instructor, the nice lady who now hands him a water bottle and tells him to take a small break, had warned him plenty. But he’d foolishly thought she was only saying it as a courtesy, so he’d have an excuse if he struggled- and boy, did he. 

Maybe it was a consequence of being locked inside for years, or maybe it was just his natural affinity for clumsiness. 

Either way, he’d been preparing for his concert for a few weeks now, and it feels like he’s hardly improved. Between vocal coaching and dance lessons- ‘choreography’ he insists when George and Sapnap tease- it had been nonstop learning and working in LA. Away from his cat, and his house, and his friends. And content. 

But the smile doesn’t fade from his face even as he finishes off the water and steps away from the wall to stretch, arms over his head and legs extended until he’s balancing on his toes. And the burn of his muscles is so good. 

A physical reminder of his work, his improvement. Sure, he’s still not the best, but he’s gotten better. And his future spells more lessons, more growth, until finally, finally-

He steps on the stage in a mask.

Orlando. Home. Lights and screaming and music, counting down and counting in. And he’s more nervous than he’s ever been, because finally, finally, finally, the numbers are real.

It did not give up.

Code is swimming in front of Dream’s eyes like a school of fish, and his head is aching something dreadful, but he refuses to look away from his monitor.

He doesn’t know what the time is- sure that if he did check, he’d have some sort of crisis. Every other member of his (albeit small) team went to sleep hours ago, the project left in lines of unfinished code and an increasingly bizarre contraption sprouting from the gym floor.

But Dream, better than anyone, knows how close they are. 

Testing earlier had gone well- messing with particle mechanics and getting the shape so, so close. But something in the actual imaging kept going wrong, so they’d called it for the day. 

And Dream had tried to sleep, really. But every moment lying in bed felt like time he could be using to work, and sleep was elusive. So he’d ended up back at his computer. Alone in the dead of night.

The world fades away around him as he works, until he falls asleep at his desk- keyboard an unfortunate pillow. He wakes with the letters imprinted on his cheeks, and code he doesn’t remember writing. But it looks good. It looks complete and promising and so full of potential that Dream is out of his chair and heading across the house to the gym before the indents of his keycaps have faded from his skin.

George is in the kitchen.

“Dream?” he asks, setting a yogurt cup down. “You’re up early.”

A glance at the clock on the oven tells Dream it’s nearly three in the afternoon. “I want to try something,” he says. “You wanna come with?”

George nods, following him out of the house and to the gym, yawning several times as they go. 

“You’ve got something on your face by the way,” George giggles, but it quickly turns to a frown. “Did you sleep at your desk?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dream grumbles, pushing the door to the gym open and flicking the lights on. George snorts.

They’re quiet as Dream fiddles with the mess of a contraption in the middle of the room. He’s careful with it, always so careful, and George watches from the sides. When everything is in place, Dream’s hands are shaking with excitement. There’s something in the air that tastes like success.

“Do you want to go in?” he asks, gesturing between the machine and George. George shrugs, then nods, careful as he ducks into the contraption. “Okay just- I think it’s going to work.”

“Really?” George asks, and for as much as he teases Dream about deadlines, for as often as Dream is wrong, it sounds like he believes it too.

Dream can’t speak in the moment, so he just nods.

They’ve got a PC set up in the gym, and he turns to it, loading into the server they use for all testing of FUSION. He’s alone in the world, for the moment, the rig George stands in waiting to be called on by a command.

Dream types it in, having to go back and re-enter the letters several times with his hands still unsteady. And when everything is ready, he pauses before hitting enter, looking up to meet George’s eyes.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.” George responds, bouncing on his feet. “What do I say? Hello world?”

“You’re so dumb,” Dream snorts. He doesn’t look away from George as he presses the final key, watching the flickering lights of the machinery, scared to look at the screen and see if he’s done it. 

“Stop being an idiot.” George says after a beat, waving his arms and looking pointedly at the monitor. 

Dream takes a breath, releases it. Turns his head.

And there it is.

George, in stunning resolution for being projected into fucking Minecraft, waving at him.

He looks between the two. Looks again. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “We did it.”

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Library E.S x FEM! reader

Overture- You got called in to pick up a shift at the library when you met the most unusual guy. But then he runs away.

CWs- Mentions of Ghosts, reader is described as wearing a skirt, one use of y/n

A/N- First Egon Spengler fic, and I'm super excited about it. Second of 32 fics for October

You’d gotten called in for a shift at the library on your day off for what felt like the thousandth time, but today was actually interesting. The elderly librarian who so often judged you for your choices in outfits, music, and anything else– had seen a ghost. Whether she did, or had simply gone crazy, you were curious. 

You got there, set your stuff down, and were immediately glad you came in. You’d yet to see the mess waiting downstairs, one you’d have to reorganize, but it was someone in particular who caught your attention.  

A bit older than you, but most definitely your type, sitting criss-cross on the floor of the New York public library. He had something on his head resembling a stethoscope, but more intricate. While you wouldn’t call him intimidating per se, getting up the nerve to talk to him would be difficult. That was, until your boss came up to complain about your new fascination. 

“Hey, glad you could come.”

“No place I’d rather be.” You gave him a sarcastic, overly cheesy smile to drive the point of how unhappy you were to be here again. 

“Well, the big boss called some people from the university to come check on the ghost situation, mostly just because Alice has been freaked out for the better part of two hours, and he wanted her to finally stop crying. But since the resident shusher is out of commission, I’m going to need you to go tell that man he can’t sit on the floor in the middle of the aisle, and do whatever that is. Thank you.” He walked off, leaving you to do it without any complaint. You hated him for it. Not only did you now have to talk to the cute guy, you had to scold him? Every second you were regretting answering the phone more. 

You wandered over to him, nervously fixing your hair and clothing while you walked towards him.

“Excuse me sir?” He didn’t even look up when you called out to him and you decided now may just be your only chance to make an impression. You fixed your skirt before sitting down, legs pushed to the side, but otherwise matching his posture. That finally got his attention, and he finally pulled the stethoscope off his head so he could hear you. 

“Hello.” You weren’t sure if he was nervous or disinterested, but you steeled yourself to maintain customer-service levels of peppiness. 

“Hi. May I ask why you’re sitting on the floor?”

“I’m trying to get a PKE reading on everything in the building, to accurately predict supernatural activity in this area.”

“Ok, may I ask for a version of that answer suited for someone who hasn’t had a science class since high school.” 

“I’m just taking measurements to determine a baseline before my colleagues get here. We were hired by the director to come inspect the grounds after an incident this morning?”

“Oh ok, you’re one of the guys from the university! My boss sent me over here, he thought that you were just hanging out in the aisle.” You gave a small point to your boss, who was already staring daggers at you. 

“And here I thought you were just curious.”

“Oh believe me, I was. Still am.”

“Well I’d love to tell you about this, anytime.”

“I’d like that. Once you’re done with your job, come find me? I’m here all night.”

“Okay.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a blush on his cheeks. You got back up, brushed off your skirt, and went to send your boss over. 

But the next time you saw him it was after a loud crash, and he and his colleagues were fleeing from the building as quickly as possible. Not exactly swoon worthy, but the way he nearly fell flat on his face while running did bring its own charm. 

—

You were convinced you’d never see him again, until you went to unlock the library doors the following week. There he was, in a full suit, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. This time he was definitely blushing, but so were you, seeing him waiting there. 

“You’re back.”

“I am. I brought some equipment I’d like to test on the apparition, if of course, that’s alright with your bosses. I apologize for leaving last week, we needed funding for some new facilities and hardware.”

“I appreciate it, it is Doctor Spengler right? We never really got introduced.”

“Yes, I’m sorry again for not coming back sooner…Y/N” you tilted your head at him, because you were certain you hadn’t mentioned your name yet, and you couldn’t figure out how he knew. Until you happened to look down and catch the plastic ID badge hanging from your neck. 

“Oh right. Name tags.” You took a moment to just settle into the embarrassment before starting again. 

“I can walk you downstairs?”

“Are you sure your superiors are ok with it?”

“They’re not here today, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You gave him a cheery smile, and just a hint of puppy dog eyes. You really wanted him to ask you out, and the more time you spent together, the more time you had to make it happen. 

“Al-Alright.” You walked him down the hall to the elevator, and as soon as you arrived at the basement, he turned to you. 

“I think you should go back upstairs. This is highly experimental equipment, and I’m testing it on an apparition with full skeletal structure.”

“Sorry, can’t. I am to not let you leave without filling out paperwork, after last time. I don’t know if you noticed, but it is kind of trashed down here, and they’re pissed about it. But I can start by just reorganizing the card catalog, so I’m out of your way?” 

“Alright. But stay over here for your safety, ok?” 

“You got it.” You held your hand up to say ‘scouts honor’, and you thought you were home free, until he came back. He’d only gotten about 5 steps away before he turned back around and fished in his coat for a plastic cup. 

“There may be ectoplasm there, if you could please collect it in here for further testing.” 

“If this is an attempt to get me to give in and leave, it’s working.” 

“Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, go catch your ghost and try not to make too much of a mess?”

“Don’t you have janitorial staff?” 

“Yeah but I have to organize all the books that end up on the ground.” 

“Maybe don’t come back here for a while, then. There was an incident with a bookshelf earlier.” And then he just—walked off? No explanation, nothing. 

You got through 3 drawers of the card catalog, and collected a Petri dish full of what you hoped was ectoplasm, trying to ignore the loud crashes and yelling, before you saw Dr. Spengler again. He looked terrified, and was holding a smoking box. 

“Oh! Wow-uh, is that supposed to be happening?” 

“Probably.” 

“Reassuring, thank you Dr. Spengler.” 

“I don’t think I can leave this in here indefinitely, I may need to postpone doing the paperwork for your superiors.” 

“That’s—it’s fine, don't worry about it. Here’s your stuff, by the way, just come back later today?” 

“Definitely. And would it be— would it be possible for me to ask you—on a date…with me?” He looked like he regretted saying anything, but you were all smiles. 

“That would be great, how about you pick me up here in a few hours?” After nodding, blushing, and a quiet ‘alright’ he started to turn back towards the exit, making it about 2 steps before coming back. 

“I do feel compelled to tell you that I’m not—fun. Or at least from what I hear.” 

“Thank you for the warning but I think you’re very fun.” You put the same emphasis on the word to drive the point that you really did think so. 

You both stood there just looking at each other for a moment, before your eye was drawn again to the box, which was now smoking even more. 

“You might want to—um, before it sets off the fire alarm?” He looked back down, and the terrified look from before came back, and he started walking backwards towards the exit, keeping his eyes on the box the whole time. 

“I’ll see you tonight” you called out for him before he turned around, and his face split into a shy smile, before he gave you a wave goodbye.

[storiesforallfandoms]

cleaning ~ dean winchester;supernatural

word count: 2411

request?: yes!

“can you do dean winchester fluff like major fluff”

description: in which dean goes to her after a rough hunt so you she clean his wounds, and he reveals how much he dislikes hunting now

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical harm

masterlist (one, two, three)

He showed up at my door, bloody and bruised and looking like he was on the verge of passing out. Most people would’ve slammed the door shut and called the police immediately, but then again, most people don’t know what I know abut Dean Winchester.

I extended an arm to let him give me most of his body weight. I struggled slightly, but I wouldn’t let him know. I guided him into my kitchen and sat him down in one of the chairs. It wasn’t the first time Dean had come over for me to clean his wounds, so I knew exactly what to do the minute he walked through my door. I filled a bowl with warm water, grabbed a number of cloths that I didn’t mind whether or not they became stained with blood, and grabbed a bottle of peroxide from under my bathroom sink.

I also poured up two glasses for Dean, one with water and one with scotch. I knew he needed to hydrate himself, but I also knew water was not the drink he wanted right now.

“What was it this time?” I asked as I sat down across from him. I dipped one of the cloths in the warm water and began to lightly dab it against his face.

Dean winced the moment the cloth touched his face. “Poltergeist. It was a strong son of a bitch this time. The usual salting was barely enough to keep us safe while we tried to burn its remains.”

“Is that how you got these marks?”

He nodded. “It tossed me around like a rag doll a few times.”

I winced this time at his description. “Do you need actual medical attention? I can’t do anything about broken ribs or fractured bones.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine. I just need rest.”

I finished cleaning the dried blood from his face and moved to use the peroxide to properly clean his wounds. He hissed the moment the alcoholic cleaner touched one of the wounds.

“Stop being a baby,” I teased. “We can’t let these get infected.”

“Doesn’t make it sting any less.”

I chuckled and shook my head at him. He acted so big and tough all the time, but I knew he was just a big baby. Not that I was going to say that to his face.

As predicted, Dean reached for the scotch instead of the water and downed it in one gulp. He placed the glass back on the table, not even glancing at the water I had given him.

“You should drink some water, too,” I said.

“Yes mom.”

He let out a shout of pain as I suddenly pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball roughly against his wound. I smirked in pride.

This is how mine and Dean’s friendship started. He was hunting with my dad and, after a bad run in with the spirit, dad had brought Dean back to our house, bloody and on the verge of succumbing to his injuries. I worked fast to clean the wounds and stop the bleeding. He had been unconscious for nearly 24 hours, and I sat by his side the entire time. I think part of the reason why I did was because I felt responsible for Dean’s survival since I had been the one to care for his wounds, but the other part of me knew there was a deeper reason for it.

When he woke up, he thanked me for saving him, and that started our friendship. I wasn’t a hunter. I hated the business, in fact. My dad never wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I happily obliged. But that didn’t stop Dean from coming to me when he was in town on a hunt and he needed something; a place to stay, help finding information, and especially getting his wounds cleaned and bandaged up.

At some point throughout the many years of knowing one another, our friendship blossomed into something more.

When I finished cleaning and bandaging his face wounds, I got up to dump the red tinted water from the bowl into the sink, and to throw the blood stained cloths into the laundry hamper. Dean stayed sat at my table, his eyes on the empty glass in front of him. I could tell he wasn’t actually focusing on it. He had a glazed over look in his eyes that told me he was deep in thought.

“Does Sam know you’re here?” I asked. Dean nodded. “Okay. Go shower.”

That snapped him out of his trance as he turned to look at me in confusion. “What?”

“Well you’re not getting in my bed after a hunt without cleaning yourself up first.”

“I...I didn’t intend - ”

“On staying? I don’t care. You’re staying now. Go shower and I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”

He looked at me with confusion still, but once he realized I was being serious he got up and made his way to the bathroom. As I heard the shower start up, I made my way to my room to grab a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and underwear for Dean. He had stayed over enough times that he had a bunch of clothes poked away in my closet, and I was sure his current wardrobe would join the collection.

I changed into pajamas as well and laid in bed to wait for Dean. I heard him turn the shower off, but there was a long pause before he came out of the bathroom. When he came out with just the towel wrapped around his waist, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger over his body.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he teased.

“I have, but pictures aren’t as good as the real thing.”

Dean chuckled and took the clothes I had left out for him. He changed, deliberately turning his back to me to tease me I was sure, before getting into bed and taking me into his arms. I settled against his chest, careful of any other bodily injuries I was sure he had but wasn’t telling me about. Feeling his warm body next to mine made me feel a wave of relaxation and comfort over my body. When Dean was off hunting I always worried about him, even if I knew Dean was a more than capable hunter. These brief moments we had, where we could pretend to be a normal couple, I cherished more than anything.

But I could still feel that there was something going on in Dean’s head. I could feel that he was still tense against me, but not in a pained way like if I was laying on a wound. I knew Dean well enough at this point to know when there was something troubling him.

I pulled out of his grasp, reluctantly, and sat up to face him. “Okay, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

He managed a half smile. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been very distant since you got here; looking off into the distant, taking long pauses when you think I’m not paying attention. Even now you’re laying here in my bed, a place that is safe where you can rest, but you feel just as tense as I’m sure you would be staying in one of those shitty motels during a hunt. Did something else happen tonight that you’re not telling me? Whatever it is, I won’t judge or anything. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know I can,” Dean said with a sigh. “It’s not something that happened. It’s...I’m just tired.”

“Tired as in physically, or tired as in mentally?”

“Both.”

I sat with my back against the headboard and Dean sat up to mirror my position. We were sat side by side, the covers still pulled up over our legs. I reached out to take hold of Dean’s hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, (Y/N),” he said. “The hunting, I mean. I’ve been running after the supernatural almost my entire life. I haven’t had a minute of a normal life ever; not a minute of rest. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“So why don’t you get out?”

He gave me a look that told me he thought I was joking at first. When I didn’t mirror his look he said, “How?”

“How what?”

“How would I get out?”

I found his question so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Dean, it’s not rocket science. You can just stop.”

“No I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a number of reasons,” he said. “For one, what would Sam do? I just abandon him after being a hunting team for years and, what, he keeps going on his own until one of those monsters kills him? And two, how am I supposed to stop when I know what’s out there now? I know what could come for me at any time, or what could come after you or anyone that I love. How do I put all that aside and hope for that no one gets hurt?”

Part of me really pitied Dean. I was an only child to a couple that were both still together and still very much alive. My dad had been a hunter, but mom hadn’t. Dad did everything he could to not drag mom into that life, and then, when I was born, did everything he could to make sure neither one of us ended up a part of the hunter life. It’s not what dad had wanted for me, so he let me decide on my own which path to take in life.

But Dean wasn’t that lucky. He hadn’t been given a choice on what life he could live. The night his mom was killed, his dad had made the decision for him: Dean would be a hunter and he would protect his little brother no matter what. John Winchester had engraved that thought process so deeply into Dean’s brain that even now, decades after his dad had died, Dean still believed that hunting was the only life he could possibly have. And for that, I hated John Winchester with every fiber of my being.

“Sam is a grown man,” I said. “If you tell him you want to stop hunting, then it’s on him to decide whether or not he wants to continue on his own. You’re not kids anymore, you don’t have to watch over your brother all the time.”

Dean tensed next to me again. I knew I must’ve struck a nerve by saying that. Sam was the only blood family Dean had left. I more than understood why he wanted to protect him so badly.

“If he were to die alone on a hunt, I’d never forgive myself,” he told me.

“I know you wouldn’t, but I also know Sam enough to know that he’s tough. He’s not going down without a fight, if he even wants to still fight. Have you ever wondered if maybe Sam is just as tired of this as you are? He has lost so much because of this lifestyle, the both of you have. He might want the normal life and the ability to rest just as much as you do.”

Dean was silent. I waited to see if he had anything to say to that, but once I was sure he hadn’t I continued, “And it’s not up to you to eradicate all supernatural beings from the world just because one might hurt someone close to you. There’s hundreds of hunters out there, Dean, all over the world. If you decide to step away from hunting, it’s not going to result in the world being taken over the way you think it is. And if anything were to come after you after you’ve left the business, you know how to handle it. That knowledge isn’t going to suddenly go away because you’re not doing the job full time anymore.”

He didn’t say anything again, but I had nothing else to say either, so we both just sat in silence. Dean ran his thumb over my knuckles, deep in thought again.

“What if something happens to you?” he asked.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I responded.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that nothing has happened to me this far in my life when my dad has been a hunter since before I was even born, and then my boyfriend has been a hunter the entire time we’ve known one another. Stepping away from the business isn’t going to suddenly make supernatural beings come after me. And, again, if they do I’ll have you to protect me.”

When he looked over at me, I could still see the doubt in his eyes. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to try and convince him. He would have to get to the conclusion himself that it was okay for him to take a step back from hunting, but it was a conclusion I really hoped he came to quickly, for his own sake.

I coaxed him to lay back down with me in hopes it would finally relax him. My words had likely fallen on deaf ears, and in the morning Dean would likely be off again for another hunt, leaving me wondering day in and day out when or if I would ever see him again. But, until that happened, I would cherish this moment with him. I would pretend it wasn’t a fleeting moment, like we could be a normal couple for once.

“I love you,” Dean mumbled into my hair. “I don’t think I could live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I assured him. “Not when I have you to protect me.”

I tilted my head back to meet his lips with my own. I settled against him and listened to his heartbeat as his breathing became steady. My eyes were heavy, but I refused to fall asleep until I knew Dean had. Once I felt his body loosen up beside me, I looked up again to see his eyes were closed and he had finally fallen into a deep sleep that I knew he desperately needed. I smiled to myself and kissed his cheek before finally drifting off to sleep myself.

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E4 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

My character/place cheat sheet

Lady Lihua - the sick concubine

Crystal Pavilion - Lady Lihua's abode

Jade Pavilion - Lady Gyokuyou's abode

Xiaolan - a servant friend of Maomao's

Oh snap. So that person who visited at the end of the last episode was THE EMPEROR. I don't like that Maomao is on his radar. I'm going to go ahead and blame Jinshi for this.

Lady Lihua is unwell and since Maomao is now a famous apothecary she is tasked with healing her. It's not something she can refuse or afford to fail at, though Lady Lihua's own ladies are making it challenging.

They don't trust Maomao, and so they prevent her from treating Lady Lihua, however shortsighted that may be. First of all they prevent their lady from getting better by denying her Maomao's care, second, they undermine the emperor's will. Maomao is going to be forced to deal with palace politics before she can treat her patient.

It is weird how the emperor approached Maomao. He could have summoned her to meet him anywhere, or simply passed down a command. He chose to go to the Jade Pavilion and meet Maomao face-to-face and in front of Lady Gyokuyou. It's as if he doesn't know or doesn't care about harem politics. I'm guessing that he does though. I bet he knows exactly what he's doing, even if Maomao and I don't.

I do not like his interest in Maomao.

Jinshi has come to help Maomao gain access to Lady Lihua so she can diagnose and treat her. He is so unnerving sometimes. When he notices the other ladies watching he rushes up on Maomao (is he trying to start rumors?) and whispers the following:

If it helps, I can come inside.

Which sounds... I mean, it's probably just the way it translated... I'm sure it's just me...

But Maomao looks like she nearly barfed on him! Which is probably the highlight of Jinshi's day.

The ladies comply when faced with the full power of Jinshi's smile (one lady literally fainted). Maomao comments:

Scary how women can change so quickly.

Jinshi knows the effect he has on women, but looks to Maomao after she says it, maybe wondering for the hundredth time how to get his charm to work on Maomao.

Side bar. This show is ALL about what is happening between Maomao and Jinshi. This is where the tension is, and it's where the story is happening. What happens between these two characters will have an effect on every other plotline and supporting character. If it seems like I spend too much time watching and analyzing this relationship, it's because I believe it to be the heart of the show.

Maomao! Holy shit Maomao! Goddamn if that wasn't the most lady boss thing I've ever seen!

Shall I even try to describe this scene? I'll never do this badassery justice, but its worth reviewing anyway.

She solves the mystery immediately, which, of course, and she's so far passed pissed off. When she realizes what's happened she growls in anger. She contains her rage only long enough to confirm who is responsible before slapping the lady across the face!

Lady: What is wrong with you!

Maomao: Me? Just punishing an idiot, clearly.

Friends. I am breathless. I think I gasped and then held it to the end of the scene.

Maomao dumps the poisonous powder on the lady's head. She then lays out in no uncertain terms what the poison does to one's body. Maomao is grappling to accept just how stupid this lady is, nearly shaking as she is incandescent with rage.

She slaps the woman again this time smearing the poisonous powder on her face while she screams:

You think she wants to be adorned in the poison that killed her son?!

The woman finally breaks down crying and Maomao is done with her. She takes charge and starts barking orders to the other ladies who are so terrified that they don't even think about disobeying.

Jinshi looks like he's just had a religious experience, but manages to pull out the perfect callback:

Scary how women can change so quickly.

God I love this character.

Facing Jinshi, Maomao comes back to herself. The ramifications of what she has done start to set in. I don't know if there will be fallout from the Crystal Pavilion from her bossing around Lady Lihua's ladies. I suspect they aren't going to broadcast what happened because they are criminally liable for poisoning their the concubine and also because this story makes them lose all face. Plus, Maomao is saving Lady Lihua's life. Regardless, I am confident that having Jinshi there to witness it all, will have consequences.

Dutiful Maomao then fully assumes control of Lady Lihua's care and commands the ladies with an iron fist. She can hardly tolerate the incompetency that has been standard in this pavilion. It really is a curse to be the smartest person in the room.

Jinshi: You're looking tired.

Maomao: Thanks. Unlike someone, I have been busy.

This is now what passes for a casual greeting between these two.

Jinshi, playfully, but probably sincerely, acknowledging Maomao's hard work; offering her validation, and implied appreciation. Maomao coming back with sarcasm and a playful barb. And they are both are getting exactly what they want from the other. Maomao appreciates that her hard work and skills are being acknowledged and Jinshi loves that someone is casual enough with him to tease him. I suspect he gets none of that any where else. She's may be the only one in his life who treats him like a regular person instead of a prince palace manager.

You can see each of them becoming more comfortable with each other as they learn where the lines lie. They are leaning how to give and take and discovering the ways the other prefers to be treated. Furthermore, instead of using those discoveries to push the other away or discourage them, they are giving the other what they want and inviting them to come closer.

Friends! These two are flirting!

And if that ain't proof enough, Jinshi Gaoshun gives Maomao some steamed buns and she thinks the following:

He knows the way to a girl's heart! It's the considerate guys like him who become good husbands. Too bad he's a eunuch.

So food is Maomao's love language. Same Maomao, same. But maybe don't try to be quite so transparent in front of Jinshi, he will use this against you.

Maomao is thinking of Gaoshun here but for what it's worth, it is Jinshi who knows the way to a girl's heart. He's been figuring out Maomao for a few episodes already, hence why she is receiving steamed buns from Gaoshun. He knows the food will cheer her up, but not if it come from him. Which is why Gaoshun is the one handing it over, even though he said the gift is from both of them.

Maomao interprets the gift in the way that lets her best enjoy the buns. And though she isn't admitting it, she is aware who the gift is really from, and might want to do some introspection on what she just thought about the gift giver.

Jinshi is offering to help Maomao. Whatever she wants. And he's turned the charm all the way up. Like, with all the sparkles ✨. I don't know if Maomao is totally immune to it, but it's not as effective as Jinshi would like. He hasn't abandoned the sultry look method yet. I wonder if he will just keep trying to see if anything shifts. In the meantime, it's far from his only tool of seduction.

His offer of help is good. Maomao of course won't take advantage of this for her own means, but if she can use Jinshi's help to treat her patient? Sold. Jinshi is happy to comply and win points with Maomao in return. I don't think Maomao totally trusts his altruism though. She tries to justify herself by saying:

We have to use whatever we have in this life.

And Maomao's efforts do pay off. Lady Lihua begins to recover. Eventually, Maomao is able to depart from the Crystal Pavilion. But not before collapsing in exhaustion, and having Lady Lihua gently stroke her head. Perhaps Lady Lihua is grateful and will become a support to Maomao in the future? Or at least give her some consideration while engaging in palace politics. Maybe try to mitigate the danger that could fall to Maomao. We shall see.

Maomao has so far had a positive impact on the people she interacts with. She saved Lady Gyokuyou and her baby, supports the ladies in the Jade Pavilion, assists the palace doctor, has solved multiple mysteries for Jinshi, not mention just generally brightens his day, and now has saved the life of Lady Lihua. She's too good at what she does, and too lovable not to charm everyone around her. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely there are some in the palace who feel very differently about Maomao. For now she's still gaining allies.

And nice. Maomao is offering courtesan tricks to the emperor's concubine. Maomao is helping break down class lines one sex technique at a time!

I like what she told Lady Lihua:

There are hundreds, if not thousands of flowers in the world. Comparing a peony to a bellflower is pointless. Who has the right to judge which is more beautiful.

After which, she immediately compares her own body to Lady Lihua's, recognizing Lady Lihua's "magnificent" "assets." I wonder which of her own assets Maomao acknowledges. Does she consider herself to be a beautiful flower too?

Maomao returns to the Jade Pavilion and is warmly welcomed by the ladies in waiting who instantly worry over her. Which, as I've said before, I love. Maomao is always willing to sacrifice herself for others. She did it this time for Lady Lihua, by working herself to exhaustion. The ladies at Jade Pavilion notice that she's lost weight while she's been gone, and acknowledge how hard it must have been to be at the other pavilion. Maomao is so good at caring for others and absolute shit at caring for herself. Luckily, now she has people who look out for her, and care about her well-being.

Jinshi is privately very proud of Maomao. He credits her with completing the emperor's mission all on her own, which... she did not. Lady Lihua would have died if Jinshi hadn't stepped in to help Maomao gain access to her patient. Still good on him for recognizing her hard work and skill. Now tell it to her face.

I guess the point in showing him thinking of it here rather than saying it, is to let us, the viewers, know that he is sincere. When he compliments Maomao he does it a little playfully, and she can never be too sure if he is just messing with her or if he is in earnest.

Also, Gaoshun sees exactly what is happening between Jinshi and Maomao, even if the two of them don't recognize it yet.

And the set up for next episode's mystery of the week is cursed hands. Cool.

If you like this kind of thing, let me know! For some reason I've committed myself to blogging this whole show. It's a little hard because, while I enjoy this and I get a whole lot more out of the story this way, I am also deeply intrigued at this point and tempted to just binge the rest.

If you want to start from the beginning of these reviews:

Episode 1

Next episode

Episode 5

[kociamieta]

What’s your favourite fact about your rain world ocs?

here's an assortment of funfacts because i can't choose one:^)

Thread (SDA's creator) spent a lot of time around VOS as a child, because of their mother's work. this is what later influenced her decision to become an architect !

Thread saw themself as SDA's friend and often hung out with them in their chamber, talking about everything ever & picking new outfits for them. she definitely told SDA more than they told her, but they deeply enjoyed their company

Grace (HS' creator) and Ruby (TFB's creator) were known for their arguments - what started as a personal grudge soon led to one trying to end the other's scientific career; constantly questioning their methods and achievements. rumor had it them becoming architects was just another "contest" to prove who's better. what they couldn't have predicted was that their creations would get along and enjoy working with one another ! friendship win

RFiM really wanted to be a group senior (and would actually make a good one!), but it never got to. mostly because their citizens didn't have the means to build another iterator, not that there was a need for more, either. it did its best caring for their colony & it was enough . surely

BROS' rabbit features were inspired by a species that was common in their area before the local group was built. the exploitation and industrialization led to them becoming nearly extinct. Rains (BROS' creator) never explained why exactly she did this. did she simply like how these creatures looked, or was there a message behind it?

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 5 / 31 * DON'T NEED MONEY, DON'T TAKE FAME 」

“Clara?”

“Hm?”

He swallows, struck by a sudden bout of self-consciousness that he’d never known before, certainly not to such an extent. It ties his tongue in knots and makes a lead weight of his stomach and Emmett kicks himself for such a childish reaction when even in his youth, he’d never been so uncertain.

But never before had he fallen so completely and utterly in love with somebody that he can almost find sense in those silly romance novels—the lightning strike when their eyes met, the speechlessness, the feeling of being struck by a speeding vehicle…

He would have dismissed all that as romantic nonsense, once. Now, despite its entirely unscientific basis, Emmett can’t deny it when he feels it firsthand, struck dumb every time he so much glances at her.

This is love and he can’t—no, he doesn’t want to spend another day without her.

“Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will—yes.”

“I—wait, what?”

“I’ll marry you, Emmett.”

Of all the things he’d been expecting, he’d not expected her to answer without even a moment’s hesitation or the slightest hint of uncertainty to her voice. His heart leaps then very nearly stops and Emmett doesn’t dare wonder if this is all a dream, if he'll wake up at the slightest provocation alone in his bed.

“I don’t mean this lightly, Clara—”

“—And neither do I. I’m absolutely serious.”

“You know I’m nothing like Edward Allgood, I won’t be able to—”

“And I should say that’s a good thing!” Emmett blinks, stunned into uncharacteristic silence. “Edward is a fine man—he has everything any woman could want: impeccable social standing, a well-respected job, a sizeable estate. Any woman would be lucky to be his wife.”

Emmett quirks a brow, trying and failing to follow her potential train of thought. As far as eligible bachelors went, there were far more suitable candidates and sometimes he can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming when Clara looks at him too long with those deep brown eyes of her. Each and every time, fear kept him from pinching himself to find out the truth. “Exactly. I’m twice your age, Clara, I don’t have a home to give you that you deserve, I’m only a blacksmith earning a modest living with a questionable reputation around town, so—”

“So, Emmett,” Clara cuts in emphatically, refusing to hear even one more word on the matter, “that’s precisely the point,” When it’s clear that he is still lost as to her reasoning, as evidenced by the puzzled look that has his brows scrunched together and his head cocked to the side like a confused puppy, Clara continues, but not without a smile.

“I’m sure for many young women, that kind of life is a dream. And I don’t see anything wrong with any of those things you’ve just said. As far as I’m concerned, those are all positives. However, the idea of living the ordinary life of a simple housewife is absolutely maddening. I think I would lose my mind from boredom to be nothing but a pretty wife to an equally handsome young man with a predictable lifestyle.

“If money or a reputable name or a comfortable, easy life was all I was after, I would have been married long ago and probably still be living in New Jersey. I wouldn’t have taken the job across the country to be teaching in this small town in California, thousands of miles from everything I’ve ever known.” She pauses only a moment to let the implications sink in.

“But men like Edward Allgood and his sort have no interest in Jules Verne or the sciences, they find little joy in the wonders of life that have nothing to do with preserving their public image or adding to their fortune, we would have so very little in common, and, frankly, they’re not you, Emmett. I think I knew it from the moment we met that you would be the one for me and before you convince yourself of some ridiculous notion that I’m only saying this because you saved my life that day, I’m telling you to put that out of your head right now, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Emmett smiles, his face saying it all. That had been an irrational concern in the back of his mind, one that had eased up over the months of Clara’s affections never wavering the more she’d gotten to know him yet never truly faded, tormenting him on the occasional late nights when he couldn’t sleep, plagued by dreams of the space-time continuum unravelling due to his continued paradoxical presence in the past.

“I had worried about that, but—”

“But nothing. I love you, Emmett, and whatever that means, wherever we end up, I want to be with you.”

[thewertsearch]

Trolls Made Our Universe: The Analysis

Let's talk about it.

Looking back, it's pretty clear that this was always our destination. The comic's scope has been on an upward trajectory for thousands of pages, and the Ultimate Alchemy hype has been building since midway through Act 4.

Hell, even I thought the planet I theorized about was just going to be a stepping stone to something bigger. Homestuck just keeps escalating - we might not even stop here, although I can't predict what the next step would be, since we're working with multiple varieties of multiverse already.

Anyway, this reveal confirms that Sburb's grandstanding about the Players' importance isn't just hot air - they really do serve a critical purpose. Assertions that this 'purpose' is more important than saving Earth are still dubious - but now, I can at least understand the coldly utilitarian place the game is coming from.

I still don't know why it has to work this way, but now I finally know what's happening. Earth's universe was born from the blood of Alternia, and the kids were created to perpetuate the cycle again, creating a new universe from the blood of Earth.

Close! It was less of a gasp, though, and more of an under-the-breath 'what the fuck'. I don't know why a universe surprised me as much as it did - like I said, I was already half-expecting a planet!

I think the real sticking point is the difference in scale - and, as a consequence, the difference in Grist cost.

It makes a certain intuitive sense that you could convert the Denizen Grist into a planet - comparable in size, presumably, to the planetoids that the Denizens call home. But a universe is an entirely different animal, one which would dwarf the Incipisphere by dozens of orders of magnitude.

Extrapolating from the typical volume of a Grist piece, four Land-sized vaults of the stuff wouldn't be nearly enough. Even if Denizen Grist is a million times more valuable than normal, and each Denizen released a million times the Incipisphere's volume in Grist, it still wouldn't be nearly enough.

I guess the game could just hardcode the Grist cost of a universe down to a manageable value, but that would break the game's own rules, and doesn't seem in spirit with how its progression system works.

No, I think something screwy must be going on with the Denizen hoards. Maybe they're full of special Grist, each piece of which is worth 1e70 normal pieces - or maybe picking them up actually multiplies the value of your grist cache, rather than adding to it.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the hoards are this comically large. After all, their value is beyond even Vriska's imagination.

The exact mechanics here are definitely worth speculating about. Let's talk about how, exactly, this universe may have come to be. The trolls obviously can't have crafted this thing atom-by-atom, or even planet-by-planet - not unless Aradia took them into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a billion years of blueprinting.

A lot of Alternian culture is integrated into Earth, though, and it had to get there somehow. In keeping with what anon said, I think these ideas were sort of 'merged' into the universe when it was created.

After all, Sburb is all about merging ideas, and we've been working with idea-merging machines since day one!

The trolls alchemized their universe, even if they didn't use a traditional Alchemiter to do so. If they wanted their universe to exhibit certain traits, all they needed to do was feed it certain ingredients, merging them with whatever 'universe' object they presumably gained access to at the end of the game. I'm just going to call it the seed.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls is because the trolls inserted their codes into their universe's alchemy recipe, perhaps attempting to revive the troll species without the Matriorb.

Wait, scratch that.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls, and have red blood, is because one specific troll's code ended up in their recipe.

Come to think of it - since we're already doing large-scale alchemy, there's a pretty easy way for the trolls to ensure that every trait they want ends up in their new universe.

All they'd need is a fetch modus and a drawing tablet.

If you're being evicted into a new universe, you might as well make it feel like home.

Adding Alternia's code to the seed would, in one fell swoop, explain all the facets of troll culture observed on Earth. It would also, in a way, 'resurrect' the troll homeworld without truly reviving it - a bittersweet prize for our victorious Players.

As mentioned above, it would be weird if Earth was the only planet to inherit DNA from Old Man Alternia. It would make sense if each civilization exhibited different Alternian traits - like, maybe there's an exoplanet out there somewhere where lusi evolved, and another where everyone has the same necromantic powers as Aradia.

It also means the universe was probably full of space empires. If the meteors didn't get Earth, Neo-Alternia might have eventually come knocking...

I also think I was conflating the signs on the trolls' clothes with the signs of the Alternian Zodiac, without considering that those might be two entirely different sets of 'signs'. The trolls themselves never refer to Cancer or Aquarius as Zodiac signs, after all. Maybe the Extended Zodiac is a different thing entirely.

Anyway - yeah, that is interesting. The kids' universe was created by twelve Players, and now its stars bear their signature - so whose signature is embedded in the trolls' stars?

An implied 48-Player session sounds amazing. Doubly so, if Hussie's using Squiddles to imply a Horrorterror session. That's an absolutely fascinating idea, on so many levels, and I do hope we see the trolls speculating about their own creators at some point.

Of course, this 48-sign Squiddles stuff could also be a red herring. I'm getting used to how this comic works, and just so it's on record...

...this is what I suspect is actually going on.

In any case, I'm as hyped as you all are!

Hussie's hand has finally been shown, and Homestuck has been revealed as the creation myth that had been built up all along. I can't wait to see what's next.

[icallhimjoey]

I LOVED IT SO DAMN MUCH! <3 thank you for feeding us! Now I’m hungry for more- honestly both of them are hopeless idiots

hungry for more, you say? well... (rewritten 19 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.9K

Inevitable Sparks

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was undeniable now and it felt a little unfair to him. Almost a little, dared he say it, abandoning.

Pushed to the side, no longer important enough.

It had been sort of gradual, but the realisation hit Wesley like a tonne of bricks when he found he hadn't seen Joe in a month and you had.

And several times, too!

He'd been so annoyed by the two of you being too scared to talk to each other like normal people, like adults, but this seemed infinitely more annoying. Wesley couldn't believe it, but he kind of wished you'd stayed in that stage of texting him rather than each other a little longer.

The second he'd left the group chat he'd made for you, both you and Joe filled his phone in individual text-threads with an assortment of accusations and swearwords.

"WTF WTF WESLEY WTF"

"🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻"

"the biggest wanker i know"

"IDIOT"

"are you fckn serious rn?????"

"and then you just LEAVE?"

"wtf do i say now wes"

"you're such a dickhead 😒 you know that right"

"WTF DO I SAY?!"

Wesley followed up with the unthinkable, and texted each of you screenshots of the other's messages to him. You weren't aware he'd sent yours to Joe, and Joe wasn't aware he'd sent his to you, but at least then you both understood that you had the exact same reaction, and it should've calmed your nerves.

It absolutely hadn't, though, because what were you going to say now?

You'd stared at the empty chat screen of the group chat that now was just you and Joe for entirely too long until you saw that Joe was typing.

But then he'd stopped.

And then he'd started again, and Joe typed for nearly a minute, but no message appeared.

Eventually, you decided you were going to send the first message after reading Wesley's message a million times in which he called you both idiots.

"wesley's the idiot"

You decided that you could bond over your awful friend placing you in this awful spot. And it was perfect, because now Joe could just reply and the seal would be broken.

"hard agree"

And then you'd both taken a screenshot of that, and both individually sent it to Wesley without the other knowing, and it had made Wesley laugh out loud.

Sure.

If the two of you wanted him to be the idiot, he'd gladly fill those shoes for you.

"at least the photo's nice"

You sent it and immediately regretted pointing it out, far too nervous that Joe would take the comment the way you meant it.

"its blurry" Joe replied. "he's an idiot AND a bad photographer"

"we'll make him take a new one, preferably one where we know its being taken so he can get my good side"

"which side is your better one?"Joe didn't immediately go into a shpiel of you both your sides being your good sides like you'd expected. Wasn't that the predictable thing for a guy to say after you made a comment like that? Joe hadn't gone that route, though. It was refreshing and you loved it.

"idk probably the back"

"you're right, you do have a nice backside" Joe flirted.

Made you grin.

"yea? hard agree? 🙃" you flirted back.

"the hardest"

The first time you'd seen Wesley after that, you'd shown Wesley the conversations you and Joe had been having and he looked at it for a second before telling you that Joe'd already let him read all of it.

Oh.

Well, all right then.

You concluded then that perhaps Wesley had been right, and the both of you really were idiots. But it was okay. Was fine.

Wesley liked that you kept the group chat with the title and picture he'd set you up with, but said he didn't need to be kept up to date on absolutely everything the two of you spoke about.

What that didn't mean is that he'd be kept out of the loop entirely... except, that's exactly what you and Joe had done.

So you hadn't let Wesley know about the first time you'd met up for a coffee together and had Joe guess your coffee order which he'd gotten right on his fourth try. You'd pretended to be impressed, and Joe had smiled bashfully as he told you shut up, don't humour me.

You would humour Joe for the rest of his life if it was going to get him to smile like that, no problem.

Next, you hadn't let Wesley know that Joe had invited you over to his flat for lunch in between zoom meetings he had going on a random Saturday. You'd had so much fun that you forgot about the time and Joe had missed an entire interview he was meant to do.

And then after that, Joe hadn't let Wesley know that you sometimes called each other whilst getting ready for bed, just to talk about your day for a bit, and Joe would make sure to at least make you laugh a few times so that, even when you'd had a bad day, you at least got to go to sleep in somewhat of a better mood.

And then, Joe hadn't let Wesley know that he was off on a trip for work for the next couple of days, which Wesley didn't appreciate.

"Tomorrow? In the morning?" Wesley asked Joe over the phone.

"Yea, but I should have time tonight! I'm leaving... I don't even know the time I'm leaving, wait, let me check," Joe tried to open his schedule on his phone and accidentally hung up on Wesley as he did.

Wesley gave Joe a little time to ring back, but when he didn't, Wesley called him back and found the line was busy; Joe was on another call.

"Hey!" Joe could hear your smile through the phone.

"Hey," Joe bashfully replied, unable to hide his own smile from making its way into your ears.

"I've got a huge problem," you started, feigning alarm, but nothing about the way you said it sounded like you were being serious. "And I desperately need your help."

It was the cleverest thing you'd been able to come up with to coax Joe over into your flat again. He'd mentioned he'd be out of the country for a few days soon, and you had decided you wanted to see him once more before he left.

Just the two of you.

Without Wesley also there.

"You do?" Joe chuckled. "What is it?"

"I've just prepared far too much food, there's no way I can eat all of it by myself," you couldn't make it through the sentence without laughing. You were being such an idiot. Joe thought it was adorable.

"Did you? What did you make?"

"Shrimp. Scampi. I've got so much of it, it's honestly– it's a bit mad." your voice dripped with overdone concern.

"Oh no, shrimp overload?" Joe gasped dramatically, matching your tone.

"Shrimp overload." you confirmed, absolutely beaming.

You looked over at the bag of still frozen shrimp on your kitchen counter, and you knew if Joe was going to say he would come over to help you in this faux disaster, you'd have to start cooking them immediately to at least make this playful lie somewhat believable.

"Sounds like–" Joe audibly let a choked laugh escape through his teeth. "Sounds like a serious issue..."

"It really is, I could really use a hand in, let's say, about an hour?"

"Of course," Joe's voice was suddenly impossibly soft and sweet. "I'll be right over."

Made your neck flush.

"My hero," you said, and you both softly giggled before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

That was when Joe saw he'd received a text from Wesley whilst he'd been talking to you.

"So. Tonight. Dinner?"

"Sorry mate I can't, something came up, I'll see you next week!"

When you buzzed Joe into your building, you left your front door ajar so Joe could make his way in himself whilst you gave your cooking its finishing touches.

"Hello?" Joe called into your flat when he entered, and before you could reply, you heard him take a deep breath after which he whispered "Delicious," on his exhale.

Your whole flat smelled of various herbs, mostly garlic though, and it had Joe's stomach instantly rumbling.

"Nearly done," you turned to see Joe walk in and grinned.

"Hi."

Joe looked like he'd just been milling around his flat all day; fluffy hair that could use a lick of product, comfortable loose-fitting clothing - none of it pulled together properly, but he looked nice anyway.

You panned down to see he'd taken his shoes off by the door and your heart fluttered a little because that meant that one, Joe cared enough not to walk filth into your house and two, he looked extra soft and comfortable now.

Joe was immediately hovering behind you to peer over your shoulder to see onto the cooktop.

"That is a lot of shrimp," Joe commented, "Good thing I came."

You could help but laugh, because looking at your pots and pans now, sure, it could feed a small family of four if they weren't that hungry, but this could also easily feed just the two of you without leaving any leftovers.

"Wait, stand still," Joe suddenly said, and you felt two hands on your lower back tug tenderly at your apron as you froze on the spot.

All of your attention was with Joe's touch now which made your heart somersault. Gave you goosebumps.

Joe untied the knot that was threateningly loose and used delicate touch to tie it again.

Tightly, this time.

You could feel how Joe was close to you, too close for what he was doing, his breath lightly fanning the back of your neck.

When Joe was done, he let his fingers linger and make their way over to the side of your hips, and you could hear Joe's breath hitch as you thought of all the things you wanted him to do to you.

There'd only been accidental touching of knees and hands with the two of you up until now, and all had resulted in blushes and shy smiles and you were done with them.

You wanted more.

Kind of wanted more right now.

"Joe?" you broke the silence after you'd both been standing there like that a little too long, Joe's hands softly touching your hips, and you imagined he'd been staring down at your bum.

Suddenly, Joe loudly cleared his throat.

"Yea?"

He let his hands softly tap your hips before moving them away from you.

"Um, anything I can do to help?"

Your attention shifted back to the food in front of you, and you quickly stirred whatever needed stirring.

"Yes, actually. Could you help set the table?" you pointed at a kitchen cabinet and let Joe get to work as you mentally pulled yourself together.

Steady breathing, you silently guided yourself.

Slow, steady, deep breaths.

Come on.

You could do this.

Except you couldn't. Because when Joe had set the table and you'd placed the pan of shrimp in the middle of it, you were about to take off your apron but learnt quickly that you couldn't.

"Oh, double knot, sorry," Joe said, already sat at the table, when he saw you struggle as you pulled on the fabric and he reached out an arm to help.

It made you grin because you knew this dork had done that on purpose. Didn't doubt it for a second.

You turned, and expected Joe to simply untie the apron for you, but instead, he pulled you closer with an unexpected yank, placing you in between his widely spread legs.

He untied you, far too slowly for it to be normal, tugging harshly and pulling you more into him as he did. When you felt the apron fall to your front, Joe pushed you forward a little by the small of your back and you heard him get up from his seat.

Instinctively, you turned around to face him and Joe's hands found the loop of the apron around your neck, helping you take it off completely.

When he'd raised it over your head, what you should've done was move away from each other, sit down, scoop some shrimp onto both your plates and have dinner together.

Instead, you both stood there, fixed in place, and you knew it was just an apron, but technically, Joe had just undressed you and it made you stop breathing for a second as your eyes found each other.

Joe let the apron drop from his hands onto the floor next to you as he reached an arm around your back, pulling you in closer to him. It startled you, and you leant black slightly, placing both your hands over his upper arms.

Joe got close, leaning forward, and his other hand found the back of your neck to guide your movements.

Yes.

This is what you wanted.

Fuck the food.

You could just eat each other.

You didn't even see what Joe was looking at, because you couldn't stop staring at his mouth.

Those lips.

The sheer look of them made you release a stuttered breath, and it was enough to make Joe dip his head down to meet your lips.

But then.

Just as you were about to let your lips touch in the most feverish of manners, your buzzer went.

Fuck.

It filled the room with a shrill harsh ringing noise, pulling you from your hazy bubble which instantly created space between the two of you. You both released breaths you'd been holding in, and you couldn't help but chuckle slightly as Joe loosened the grip he had on you to let you answer whoever was downstairs trying to get into the building.

"Yes?"

"Delivery." a crackly voice spoke through the old speaker and you were quick to buzz them up.

When you turned back to Joe, he had sat back down and grinned at you, letting a huff of air escape his nostrils in a sad laugh. You slumped your shoulders which sent the same message as you smiled back at him and knitted your eyebrows together.

The moment had been ruined and had now unfortunately floated away from you entirely.

"Get some food onto your plate, I'll be back in a second," you nodded at the pan of steaming shrimp before stepping into your hallway to get the door.

With Joe out of sight, you were able to gather your thoughts a second, and suddenly, you frowned.

Delivery?

You hadn't ordered anything, had you?

A rapid, melodic knock at your door startled you.

Oh no... it couldn't be?

A quick peek through your peephole confirmed your suspicions.

Fuck.

Wesley.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath before you carefully opened your door just enough to peek your head through.

"Hi," you spoke in a loud whisper, your eyes huge with shock.

"Wine delivery," Wesley said loudly, and used a flat hand to push your door open further before stepping around you, into your hallway.

"I've just brought one bottle though, do you have more? Because I'm definitely going to need more," he seemed annoyed and completely ignored what your facial expression was trying to tell him.

"Erm, Wes?" you kept the volume of your voice as low as you could manage it, moving yourself to stand in the middle of your hallway to block Wesley.

But Wesley moved to take off his shoes, ready to spend the evening on your sofa with good wine, good company, bad TV and enough time and space to freely complain about his best friend Joe.

"Did you cook? It smells good in–" words faltered him when he saw them. You followed Wesley's gaze and your eyes landed on Joe's beige wallabees, neatly placed next to the radiator.

Fuck.

Wesley didn't say anything, but looked at you a second with a blank face and then stepped around you to look into your living room.

He was met with the sight of Joe scooping shrimp onto your plate, ladle hovering as Joe'd frozen on the spot the second he'd heard Wesley's voice, feeling caught doing something he wasn't meant to be doing.

"Hey," Joe spoke awkwardly, stretching the word and letting it fade out in volume until the blanket of silence covered the room completely.

For a second Wesley just blinked at Joe, and then back at you until he realised the situation at hand.

"Something came up?" Wesley challenged Joe slightly, not overtly angry, more so startled by what he'd walked in on, but you definitely detected a little annoyance.

"Wes," you started.

"Something did," Joe plainly said, interrupting you as he gestured your way.

Wesley followed Joe's eyes and looked at you just a smidge too long, scanning your face to read your apologetic features before handing you the bottle of wine he'd been holding.

"Enjoy," he said, giving you both a tight polite smile that didn't reach his eyes before turning on his heel and walking out.

-----

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[staratdawn]

I thought about au with blind Regulus and deaf Sirius. It is not congenital, most likely acquired after 5 years of Sirius and 4 years of Regulus at Hogwarts. Their mother's unsuccessful punishment spell hit both brothers. Total blindness forever for Regulus, too much damage to do anything about it, even magic is powerless. Sirius rolled down the stairs, hitting his head on all corners, causing serious damage to the head, including the auditory cortex. The predictions of the Black' personal doctor were positive, of course, no one was going to upset them. But the hearing does not return to Sirius in a year or two.

And this difficult for them, almost impossible to make contact, despair splashes, their psycho-emotional state is not just a light wind, it's a fucking storm, like, they never can be ok again. They need more than a one year to talk to each other again. It's been hard before, don't think they don't love each other, we all know true, and yet their family didn't anticipate the possibility of healthy communication among its members. But now it takes a lot more effort to talk. Sirius can't hear, but he can speak. Regulus can speak and hear, but cannot see. So, Sirius speaks. Sometimes Regulus answers and Sirius lip-reads, it gets better and better with the years but never perfect the meaning of some phrases is inevitably lost, but that's something they can at least handle. Sometimes Regulus writes — he remembers good how it's done, but still a little awkward, not nearly as perfect as it used to be, and yet understandable enough. They learn to use it more often. Talk more often. It is important for them not to lose connect. They seem to have lost it all their lives and only learned to fix it when it was too fucking late.This was exactly the moment when Sirius runs away from home and starts living with James. And Regulus needs time, his parents are careful with him, they no longer try to be as cruel as they used to be, mostly just words, and over the years he managed to develop a good immunity, they do not hurt as much as they could. Sirius hates himself for not being able to take Regulus. They still didn't talk back then, it was so difficult for them and Sirius couldn't just ask Regulus to come with him, he didn't believe he could protect him and felt incredibly vulnerable. But he offers in a year and Regulus agrees.

When they get back to Hogwarts, things clearly change. Honestly, even too much. Regulus has a specially trained guide dog, this is a collie named Lyra (actually, in honor of the constellation, but he did not tell anyone about it except Pandora), she is big, soft and fluffy, and she is also smart and really very strong helps him. He also has a cane inlaid with many spells, so he knows Hogwarts quite well, much better than the first years (which is a dubious achievement, but nonetheless).

Sirius is trying to cope with his condition, mostly not really knowing what to do. I'm thinking of a spell he might have found one day to help take notes, literally translate the words spoken by the professor into text (I know there's nothing like that in canon, but it would be fair if there was, and generally, I just don't care about canon, I REALLY don't care, it's there because I made it up right now). He carries around a notepad and pen so that people can write what they want to say to him, but he also often understands what they are saying by watching their lips move. He can also talk, but he can't hear himself, so it's often very loud/very quiet, he prefers to write, but in the company of marauders, he doesn't care if he seems stupid or awkward.

I think Regulus, even after losing his sight, plays the piano, it is important for him to hear and feel the keys under his fingers, it grounds him, calms him down, makes him feel whole. Sometimes it is unbearable, but more often it gets easier than worse. (As he gets older, there are days when his hands shake too much and he can't find the right keys. Then Lily kisses his temple and James puts his hands over Regulus', they play slowly, making Regulus feel more, feel integrity, pushing the keys until he's finally okay)

And sometimes their duet with Sirius is also heartbreaking. Sirius can't hear but can guide his hands, he just feels, he has enough feeling, he doesn't really like to play. He desperately wants to help Regulus. And he sees the keys, he may be his eyes.

So, speaking of marauders. Honestly, James was the first to know. I think Sirius ran away to him somewhere in the middle of summer vacation, so James went to Hogwarts already fluent in sign language and actively continuing his studies. They met Peter during that time, so he definitely found out, even if Sirius didn't want to show it, and sign language was incredibly difficult for Peter, but he tried!! (damn, he tries so hard to be tactful, I just know it, he doesn't want to offend him, he doesn't even speak in his presence, but mostly writes on a notepad to make Sirius comfortable!!!)

Remus only finds out at Hogwarts, not because Sirius doesn't want to tell him, but because Sirius feels bad and doesn't want to appear weak in front of his boyfriend, ok. In this universe, there is no prank, so they are really happy together, but Sirius's disability is very difficult, and he wants to withdraw into himself and never share his burden with anyone. But he still has to do it when they meet on the train, and it's, well, never been easy, ok? Sirius also believes that he is much more fortunate than Regulus and feels guilty because people surround him with care, it seems to him that he does not deserve it. 

I also think that Remus KNOWS sign language very well (I headcanon him with a large family, several younger and one older sister, I think one of his sisters is deaf so he had to learn sign language for her, I can talk about his sisters, in case anyone is wondering, I just love the concept of a big family where Remus is the middle child, and he is the only wizard, except for Lyall, if we are not talking about the fact that Pandora could be his sister. He also suffers from lycanthropy, and I think one of his sisters might, but that's another TALK....but, you know, he'll never be alone and his family is, well, a little wolf-family-pack. ..okay, just let me know if anyone is interested, this isn't even about Remus, I should fucking shut up) so that makes things a little easier? Except that Sirius himself needs time to learn sign language, but it's absolutely in his best interest, so he's trying so hard. Remus really tries to take care of him, he shares his notes with him before Sirius finds that spell (he's never done this before and it was never needed, but now Sirius is so grateful) and he's definitely taking the translator's position a bit with people who do not know sign language, he really is not a burden, because Sirius will never be a burden for him. Never.

And also I think that Regulus has a spell that makes the book read itself, which makes life easier, magic is beautiful. And he definitely learns to read braille later, but I don't think it's very common among wizards (he probably isn't at all. but over time his life is so closely intertwined with muggle world, he can't ignore it)

Let's talk about girls! I like to think that Lily was fluent in sign language before that, as if she seems like someone who will know it, or at least try to learn it. Mary and Marlene absolutely don't know but they are really good friends so they try. And Marlene is in love with being able to write constant notes in a notebook (gives atmosphere. She puts Sirius notes between textbooks, very, very many notes in a day, they become less over time, but she was never going to throw constant gossip with her bestfriend, thanks, even deafness will not interfere with her). Mary also uses her notebook to write for Sirius when she wants to say something.

I also think that Lily absolutely cares about Regulus (platonically or romantically, your choice), but she doesn't know what she can do for him, she just goes with him all the time, almost seems to blend in with the Slytherins. She reads books to him aloud because he likes how soothing her voice sounds, he actually has an amazing memory, he quotes something from what he has read before or from what he heard from Lily.

Evan and Barty don't know how to act at first. But over time it gets easier. Like there's no problem putting things back where they belong so that Regulus can move around the room with ease, at which point they're very clean. They try to spend a lot of time with him, sometimes it's even annoying, he can say it, but honestly he is grateful.

(also Lyra is absolutely delighted with Barty and Pandora, when Regulus is in bed and she doesn't help him anymore, she often goes to Barty's to get her helping strokes)

Dorcas is so excited when she finds out about this, she is actually so mad at his family. One of her best friends will never fucking see anything else because of his family (Regulus never told them the reason but they know. They all know). She is very afraid of how unsafe he can be in his house, but she obviously does not show it, it would be inappropriate and not quite in her character. She tries to be tactful and act like nothing has changed. And she's also very supportive, actually, she's just not clingy like Barty and Evan, for example, she's just expressing help in the little things, I would say. Her help is usually silent, but also surprisingly eloquent.

I didn't say much about Pandora, I'm sorry. They have an amazingly cute duo and an interesting way of getting around, when Regulus assumes his animagus form, he is also blind, but he is literally cat, so she often carries him around in her arms to his destination. It's faster. Oh, and she was the one who helped him find the spell to read!!

Also, I think Sirius's hearing will start to recover at some point, but it will never be good enough, it's just... some sounds, more sounds than total silence. I didn't mention hearing aids before and I don't think they're common among wizards, but he'll definitely use them when they get out in muggle London and, well, it won't give him perfect hearing, but it's a lot better than nothing...

(little bonus: when Sirius wants to be kissed, but he doesn't want to write about it in a notebook or make gestures because it will upset the mood, he puts his finger on his lips or on his forehead or on his cheek, my boy just wants kisses. And he spreads his arms out to the side when he's waiting for a hug and doesn't want to initiate it first. when alone with Remus, sometimes he just reaches out his palms. Oh, and he claps his hands when he tries to get someone's attention. It's easier for him not to talk than to talk so he keeps the conversations to a minimum)

[nipply-castform]

outer wilds is such a cool game specifically because there is no real "completionism" that can be applied to it. you just kinda.. play the game. and then it's over.

but what makes this so cool is that so many of its players have said "i'm not satisfied though, I need to do more. I need to know this game like the back of my hand." and then they proceed to set their own absurd completionist goals, just to squeeze out a few more drops of that sweet sweet outer wilds euphoria. I saw a person do a SHIPLESS tour of the entire solar system in a SINGLE LOOP, and it was nearly flawless. do you know how many loops of practice they would have had to put in for that? do you know how well they have to know the exact movements and timings of all the planets etc to know exactly when to land and how fast to go and what direction to take off in so that the right planet just happens to cross their path at the right time? that's literal rocket science, and it was a goal that this person just set for themselves, because they wanted to spend more time in the world.

and the absolute best part of it is, all of this fits so perfectly into the themes of the game. it makes sense - it's in character - for you to start doing this sort of shit. it feels believable for the player character. you are holding onto the time loop. you are refusing to let go of your home. you are telling the game, no. I'm not ready yet. I will stay here.

and the game lets you. this was always an option.

in a game with no objectives and perfect predictability, where the goal is to explore and learn as much as you can, you are allowed to set any goal for yourself. reaching the "end" of the game is a choice you make, and you usually do it pretty quickly once you figure out how, but the game never forces you to do it.

you get to decide what you will do with your time. it might not even exist here.

[lastleggysee]

Beach Day with the Last Legacy M3

Because we were robbed of a canon beach episode.

Word count: 1,917

Warnings: None that I can think of, but if you notice any please let me know!

Felix didn't want to go to the beach at all, and he made his opinion well known through sarcastic comments throughout the week leading up to the event.

"If I wanted to bake myself I could just step into the oven."

"No, I love the beach. I'm especially fond of how you carry masses of sand home with you afterwards, like a second trip."

"All I'm saying is the sea beasts have a point, devouring beachgoers. I would do the same if the rancor arrived at my doorstep."

He even thought he'd be able to use sleeping in as an excuse, purposefully ignoring the sounds of his companions readying themselves for the day outside of his chamber doors. However, he was unable to carry out his plan to fruition when Sage somehow breaks through the locks (and wards) of his door, ripping the blankets from Felix's pretend-sleeping form and bringing him upright in bed. From the hallway, Felix hears Anisa yell something about having "less than an hour" before departure, and he sighs, knowing he's lost this fight.

Felix spends most of the morning choosing what books to bring along and casting anti-sunburn wards on himself. He deliberately chooses a thick, yellowed tome on ancient runes to disguise the romance novel he actually plans on reading while there (which is also conveniently beach-themed). Reluctantly, he dresses in his outfit for the day (I like to imagine his bathing suit is one of those old-timey, striped suits with a sheer black cover-up robe on top), and goes to make himself a strong cup of tea before departure. 

Once arriving at the beach, Felix does not help set up a site for the day, insisting that it was Anisa or Sage’s idea in the first place, so he should be excluded from the effort on principle. This is with the exception of the umbrella, though, because Sage always stakes it in the “wrong” place. He sits under the umbrella for most of the day, enjoying his novel and sipping on the wine Anisa so generously remembered to pack for him, keeping it cool with magic. He’s not exactly relaxed, it’s still dreadfully hot out, and the chair he reclines in is not nearly as comfortable as the thick cushions he rests on at Fathom, but the day still washes easily over him, and Felix is silently grateful for the variety. 

Felix has a quiet reverence for the ocean. Its vastness, its depth; it reminds him a lot of magic. The way it is both a familiar presence and unfathomable mystery, its balance of chaos and predictability; these qualities sit in a familiar juxtaposition in his mind, and Felix pleasantly  watches the waves crash over the tops of his pages. 

While grazing on some of the snacks Anisa packed, his back turned to the ocean, Felix felt something sink in the pit of his stomach. Before he could turn around, he felt large, strong arms envelop him, lifting him from his place on the ground. He recognized it as Sage before he even saw his face. Felix protested, threatening spells and fire and dismemberment, but Sage did not relent until Felix felt the water lapping at his ankles. 

“Still want me to put you down?” Sage asked, a tinge of mischief in his voice. 

“Yes, you absolute beast -” Felix started, but was cut off with a mouthful of salt water as Sage dropped him directly into the waves. 

“See? S’not so bad.” Sage makes out between booming laughter, and for perhaps the first time that day Felix agrees with him.



Anisa spent most of the day before the trip preparing. This meant that she spent at least half of the day picking out exactly what could go wrong, and making plans for whatever she would be able to do about it, and preparing supplies accordingly. 

First aid kit? Check. Extra sunscreen? Packed. 

Weapons? Already tucked into the bottom of the picnic basket. 

A spare pan and firestarter in case she finds a dolphin and finally gets the chance to try it? It was one of the first things she packed. After all, you showed up out of nowhere, there’s a chance a dolphin might as well. 

Where Anisa really spent most of her time, though, was the picnic basket she prepared. Anisa genuinely believes that food is a love language, and the attention to detail she pays to each meal she prepares is a testament to this. She made little sandwiches, cut the crust off of the edges, and folded them neatly into colorful napkins. She chopped fruit and carefully packaged it in containers for herself, Felix, and Sage to snack on later. She even included some of Felix’s favorite wine (she figured anything that may sweeten his sour mood was well worth the space spent to carry it along) and some street cakes from the market for Sage. She took pride in her work and wanted to make sure she put forth every effort to make the day as perfect as possible. 

She could hardly sleep the night before the trip, thinking about how long it had been since she actually had fun and enjoyed herself; much less with her group of friends in tow. It excited her, stirring butterflies in her stomach at the idea of it all, but also felt somehow strange. In her late 20s, could she still enjoy the beach like she had as a child? Could she find respite from the weights of her knightly duties upon her shoulders after carrying them for so long? Despite falling asleep later than she intended, she was the first to wake up, sipping her tea on the balcony at Fathom with a tentative anticipation for the day. 

At the beach, Anisa sets up most of the site, unpacking all of her hard work and laying it out on the sand. She sits and watches the waves for a long while at first, remembering times in her youth where she’d sat on similar beaches with her mother. Anisa likes the wildness of the waves, the sounds of other beachgoers around her, and the scent of salt in the air that always seems to work its way into her skin before the day is over. 

She wades into the water at Sage’s insistence (meaning, Sage yelling her name at a surprising volume from his place in the water), enjoying the cool feel of the waves against her feet and legs as she adjusts to the temperature difference. Feeling the steady pull and crash of the water against her knees, she feels a joy rise in her chest that she realizes she hasn’t felt in a long time. Anisa splashes Sage with water when she reaches him, but aside from that one act of playfulness she spends the majority of her time swimming alone and enjoying herself in the water. 

After a while in the water, Anisa reclines in the sun on one of the towels she brought, resting in the warmth of the sun and idly snacking on some of the fruit she brought. She hears Felix muttering to himself over the novel he’s reading, along with the sound of gulls and other beachgoers, but she allows it to all wash over her over the sound of the waves. She needed this, she thinks. 

Raising another piece of fruit to her lips, she decides that she’ll make Sage be the one to pack and carry all the supplies back.



Sage was objectively the one most excited to go to the beach; probably because he was the one who objectively did the least amount of preparation for the event. He’s always been a “go with the flow” sort of guy, so when the invitation presented itself he took it, no questions asked and no sense of responsibility attached. 

Sage used to hate the beach. As a child, he used to fish from it (and steal fish from the other fishermen there) to feed himself and Tulsi. There was a time when the salty air and rhythmic crashing of waves caused similar waves of adrenaline to roll throughout his body. Nonetheless, he has just as many pleasant memories at the beach - swimming, drinking, and spending days in the sun before he joined the Starsworn. If he tries, he can still recall some drunken evenings with Lucan and other Griefers on the beach despite the haze his alcohol consumption at the time placed over his memories. 

The morning of the day, Sage rolled out of bed, feeling surprisingly well-rested and ready for the day ahead of him. Having long since misplaced (or did one of his companions misplace it for him?) his admittedly tight leather swimsuit, he opts to dress himself in a simple pair of shorts and his telltale red coat. Of course, Sage still has at least two knives hidden with him for the day ahead, but he leaves his sword at Fathom. 

He passes Anisa in the hallway and tells her to calm down, that today was supposed to be about relaxation, and is promptly i(playfully) hit upside the head with one of her umbrellas. Sage listens to her mutter to herself about Felix still lazing in bed, though, and makes it his business to take at least this off of her plate and wake Felix up. 

When he arrives at the beach, he immediately runs into the water. He enjoys the feeling of the sun on his skin, the way it warms him completely from the top of his head to his feet. He enjoys the feel of the current, its pull against his body, knowing that he’ll still feel it long after he’s departed from the beach as he lies in bed that night. Pleasant memories of his childhood spent at the beach float to the surface of his mind as he floats on the surface of the water, more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks. 

Of course, this relaxation is short-lived when Anisa decides to take a dip in the water, but the playful interaction is welcome as Sage swings his arm across the surface of the water to splash her. 

Looking back to shore, he notices Felix still in the same spot he’d been in all day. Sage knew Felix wasn’t a fan of fun, but he finds it absolutely ridiculous the way Felix will spend this one day outside of Fathom with his nose buried in a book. 

“Do you think he’s always been so uptight?” Sage asks, golden eyes still fixed on Felix. 

Anisa scoffs. “I think Escell must’ve given him textbooks and an abacus to play with as a child.”

It’s at this moment that Sage decides that if Felix won’t have any fun on his own, maybe he could use a little help. He slings Felix over one of his shoulders and brings him out into the water, laughing all the way despite his protests. 

When the day is finally over, Sage makes a big show of complaining as Anisa insists that he be the one to re-pack and carry all of their supplies back. Sage protests at first, even threatening to the others that he would simply spend the night at the beach rather than to do any of that, but he eventually agrees. 

Over a series of grunts, expletives, and some admittedly poor attempts at folding, Sage repeats an exasperated question. 

“Annie, how in the hells did you manage to pack all this into one stupid basket?”

[mishavorshevsky]

ANYWAY...

When: After Party, post-plot drop TW: None (for once)

Silence settles over the crowd like a lead weight, perverse in its gravity and filled with dread as they watch the video unfold. Unfortunately, Mikhail's experience with such limitless violence does not allow him enough naïvety to crumble into shock with the rest. Already his gaze sweeps across the room to find Vika, whose well restrained anger matches his own almost precisely–– both stormy behind the eyes and cautious in how they show it to the world.

He moves swiftly through frantic bodies once the lights return, scooping up Iza's arm along the way and practically hoisting her towards the exit. Without enough force to harm, but the rapid nature of his pace and obvious insistence leaves little room to argue. Not that she would, particularly after such a harrowing spectacle.

Perhaps that is what angers him most, beyond the simmering rage felt on behalf of Kosta losing yet another fragment of his first wife. That Mikhail had been successfully shielding Iza from most of the carnage, keeping her reality somewhat at bay and allowing her and Dmitri to live a relatively unscathed life. It wouldn't last, they both predicted as much, but he truly hadn't wanted it to crash down like this.

Cynicism whispers, at least it isn't her on the tape. Or Yuli, or Vika, or Sveta...

The corners of his mind are a mass grave filled with long dead women from his life and he ardently refuses to add more bodies tonight.

For once, there is gratitude to be found in the security that haunts his footsteps. His orders to them are frigid, unquestionable, sounding more like a Vorshevsky than ever before when the matter of his wife's safety hangs in the balance. It would be easier to avoid her gaze and usher the blonde along, to keep himself from reading the expression he knows is etched into her delicate features, but he clasps them between both palms anyway.

His thumb wipes away a miniature trail of saltwater from her skin as their eyes meet. Glassy versus resolute. "You need to leave now. Don't speak to anyone and do exactly as Boris and Pyotr say until I return. I'll be right behind you, promise." She merely nods, impeded from the full gesture by how deliberately Mikhail cups her face. "I love you." Sentiment exchanged, he releases Iza and allows his team to cart her off to a waiting car before returning to locate Vika.

Finding her is simpler than expected, probably because their train of thought so frequently aligns, and there is one terribly specific way to return a favor to their enemies. His palm nearly envelopes the Pecatti woman's entire face as he forces it back into position against his cousin; so unlike the fervent adoration used on his better half only minutes prior.

"It took you long enough. Hold her still."

"With pleasure."