#i could go on a dissertation for days at this point

[harukakitous]

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger | #44

"When self-righteousness blurs out the guilt, it's easy for a person to become a monster."

[licorishh]

I'm sorry but the complete and utter lack of appreciation on the internet for the 1995 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is just absurd. WHERE IS YOUR ENTHUSIASM. WHERE IS YOUR APPRECIATION FOR SUPERBLY-CRAFTED MEDIA. Sure, the 2005 one is fine. Whatever. But the 1995 one??? HELLO???

'95 Mr. Darcy is the biggest simp on the face of the Earth and I will hear no objection to the contrary. My guy spent the first three episodes doing nothing but whining about how dumb and lame everybody was except for him 20% of the time and just staring at Lizzy like a big stupid idiot the other 80% of the time. My guy invented yearning.

My guy yearned so bad he finally bothered to do the self-reflection he'd never cared to do before when she eviscerated him to such a degree because she wouldn't stoop to marrying someone for whom she had not a shred of respect. My guy yearned so bad he was willing to risk his station in life, his livelihood, literally everything just to save her family from ruin, something he would never have dreamed of doing in the beginning of the show. My guy yearned so bad he recognized his deepest flaws and put in the work to change them and become a better person not so that she'd give him what he wanted, but because he realized she was right and that he was in the wrong and needed to make those changes literally just in order to actually have a happy and fulfilling life.

My guy literally created "I love my wife so bad I'm gonna explode and she could kill me on the spot and I'd thank her for the opportunity to be involved"-ism and you people ought to show more gratitude for him singlehandedly altering fandom culture.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[fastandcarlos]

Study Hard : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as proud as he is as you near the end of your degree, charles can’t help but worry about the levels you’re pushing yourself to in order to achieve it

The sight that greeted him was far from what Charles expected to see, walking into your apartment Charles was met by you, busying yourself on the sofa with books stacked as far as the eye could see. 

“Have you left that spot all day?” Charles asked, having left you there hours ago. 

“I got myself a drink a while ago,” you responded, not tearing your eyes from your book as you carefully read through the page. 

A sigh came from George as you found what you were looking for, picking up your laptop and typing away the source. Knowing that you’d only got yourself a drink immediately left Charles concerned, you were working yourself incredibly hard, and despite him continually reminding you to take care of yourself, it seemed as if you were doing anything but. 

The end was in sight for you now, but Charles was becoming increasingly concerned that you wouldn’t reach that end if you continued to work yourself as hard as you were doing currently. 

Charles sorted himself out, putting his keys away and slipping off his shoes before trying to find a space on the sofa where he could sit.  

“Love,” Charles whispered, poking against your arm as your eyes finally glanced across to look at him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you muttered, putting everything down for a moment, even if you didn’t really want to. “How was your day? Did you have a good practice run?” 

“It was good,” he weakly smiled, “how’s your day been? You look busy.” 

“There’s lots to be getting on with,” you told him, pointing to all your books and paperwork, “but I’ve been getting a few breaks in and making sure that I stop for a while,” you then assured Charles, although he was far from convinced.  

“Right,” Charles hummed, his eyes studying you closely as you were itching to return to your laptop. “How about I go and get sorted and then we can do something together?” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you smiled, watching as Charles stood up from where he was sat. “I’ve only got this little bit left to do and then I can put all of this away for a little while.” 

Charles rushes to get himself sorted, hurrying down the stairs, hopeful that everything is tidy for you two to hang out. But it is anything but. 

You still looked as if you hadn’t moved when Charles came downstairs, you didn’t even notice him reappearing as he stood and watched you, his arms folded in front of his chest as he tried to not let you see just how frustrated he was becoming with you. 

Charles gives you a moment, wondering if maybe you need to just finish something, but when you pick up yet another book, his patience seems to run out with you. 

“Come on, time to stop with this for a while,” Charles encourages, going to pick something up. 

You leap across and snatch it from Charles, placing the paper back in its rightful stop. “You can’t just move these things Charles, they’re important.” 

“I’m well aware of how important this degree is to you love, but aren’t I important too?” Charles questioned, throwing his arms up in frustration. 

You stop what you’re doing, placing everything down as your hands run over the top of your head. You’d been working incredibly hard, some would argue a little too hard, and perhaps Charles had a point that you were beginning to forget about the man who always took such good care of you. 

As you remain silent, Charles moves closer to you, worried that he’s ended up upsetting you more than he intended. “Why don’t we put this away for the night?” 

Your head shook back at Charles, “I’ve still got so much to do.” 

“Really?” 

“I’m still lacking in sources for this to be a credible dissertation, I’m so far off the word count it’s embarrassing, and I’ve not even proofread any of what I wrote today,” you began to explain to him. “There’s only a few weeks left and if I don’t start pulling my finger out to get this done then there’s no way I’m going to get my degree, and if I don’t get my degree, I can’t get the job, and then who knows what I’ll do?” You fret, rambling away to Charles as you let your concerns get the better of you. “I don’t mean to do all of this and leave us doing nothing but if I don’t get on then I’m just going to end up further behind everyone else Charles.” He reached across and took a hold of your hand before he could let you rant any further, sensing that you were beginning to get yourself overwhelmed.  

“Babe, just listen to me,” Charles whispered, pulling you closely into his side. “You’re doing incredibly well, but you’re going to end up sick if you carry on like this.” 

“Charles I-” 

“No,” Charles continued, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “It’s inspiring seeing how much this means to you, but you’ve still got to make sure that you’re prioritising yourself my love.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted as your voice began to falter, moving even closer into Charles. “Every time I try and relax and stop stressing, I just end up overthinking all the things I still have to do.” 

Charles let you vent, he lets you debrief, knowing it’s what’s been bubbling for so long. You’d tried to pretend that you were fine for so long, but Charles knew you much better than that. 

“It’s alright,” Charles whispered as he leant back on the sofa with you, moving you away from all of your books. 

“I’m exhausted with all this,” you sighed, burying into Charles’ chest. 

“I know you are, I know it’s hard,” Charles sympathised, knowing better than anyone how hard you were pushing yourself, “let’s not fret about this anymore tonight.” 

“Y-you’re right,” you stuttered, feeling Charles press a kiss against the top of your head, “can I just leave all this here?” 

“Let’s head to bed,” Charles suggested, knowing the thought of tidying up all of your mess was enough to potentially tip you over the edge. 

You don’t even protest as Charles takes your hand and helps you up from the sofa to wander over to the stairs. You allow him to guide you, your steps lazy and slow as you finally realise just how tired your body is. Everything aches, from your mind to your toes after cramping up on the sofa for most of the afternoon, you’re ready to just shut down from everything that’s been going on. 

It takes a moment for you to really allow yourself to forget the work that is scattered around your living room, but Charles doesn’t let you look back for long before walking you up the stairs and straight for your bedroom, knowing it’s the perfect place for you to be. 

Once you’re there, you flop down, Charles quickly joining you. He immediately takes on the role of big spoon and brings you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can to take your mind off of things. 

“This is where we should be,” Charles mused as he rested his head on top of yours, “I forgot how nice it was to cuddle up to you, you’ve left me starved of affection for so long.” 

Your eyes roll at Charles’ dramatics, something he can tell you’re doing after so long together. Best of all though, Charles could feel you relaxing in his hold which was the only thing that he wanted for you. 

“Thank you for always looking out for me, even though I’m a pain,” you whispered back to Charles, “this will all be over soon enough.” 

“I just want you to be careful,” Charles reminded you, “I’m beyond proud of you, but I don’t want to see all your hard work see you hurt yourself too.” 

“I promise that I’ll take better care of myself.” 

“And I’ll make sure that I’m right there with you to take care of you too babe.” 

“What would I do without you?” You chuckled as your eyes began to close. 

Charles went to reply but soon noticed you settling down, deciding to fall silent and finally let you get some well-deserved sleep, with Charles right there when you woke up. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sexybritishllama]

strap in folks it's time for another neopets drama update

some background reading before we begin: back when neopets wanted to introduce customisation (i.e. dressing up your pet) in 2007, they decided to 'convert' all existing pet art to align with a rigid body structure, rather than all having unique poses. it was just not feasible to create new pieces of art for hundreds of different pet poses every single time they released a new clothing them

customisation had been highly requested up until this point. however, the conversion was NOT popular. in some cases, particularly for basic colours, the change wasn't huge, but in other cases.... uh....

you get the idea. the more expensive colours like plushie, faerie, grey, royal and darigan got the worst of it because they had the more unique poses pre-conversion, and therefore it was largely agreed that the change to the stiff 'samey', frankly kinda goofy converted look did not look great

most users did not get a choice in having their neopet converted and it was done automatically, but if you had one of these colours where the change was huge, you were given the choice of converting or retaining the old pose (but not having the option to customise your pet). those pets that retained the old, pre-conversion poses are therefore referred to as 'unconverted', or UC for short

once a pet is converted, there's no returning to UC. you also couldn't create UC pets anymore, making UCs a limited resource that would only increase in value with time, particularly as people abandon their pets, leave the site, get frozen, etc.

i could write an entire dissertation on the drama that UC pets have caused for the pet trading economy, the neopet account black market, and general retention of the userbase, but to sum it up, people REALLY want UC pets. they are the single most coveted status symbol on the site

we skip forward now to 2023

the neopets team are planning to introduce UC pets back to the site, so that people will be able to create their own UC pets again for the first time post-converstion (legally at least)

they drip feed bits of information over the year about what this will look like. the main points are

changing a pet to UC will be done via some kind of item bought with neocash, the premium currency on neopets that you need to spend real money to get

putting this item on your pet will give it the UC art style appearance

so. not much really known. but expected release is set for january 2024

yesterday, they hosted an AMA focusing on the new UC pet system and how this was going to work. noticeably absent is any explanation of how much this is actually going to cost and whether it is going to involve any kind of gatcha mechanic, so that's causing our first lot of concern

second lot of drama is that the new UCs aren't actually going to be COMPLETELY the same as the old art, as they're making some small changes for style consistency, see below (old on top, new below):

the biggest drama, however, comes from how they're dealing with the 'original' UC pets. ALL pets will be getting forcibly converted on the 23rd, with anyone who has a pet that is already an original UC immediately receiving the UC neocash item. there's mention of possibly some kind of trophy or badge recognition for particularly old pets, but it's vague, and generally seems like it won't be possible to distinguish between the original UCs and these new ones

the people who already have OCs are not happy about this

people are allegedly pounding their pets, cancelling their premium, and quitting the site in protest. the boards are flooded with people complaining about the changes and laughing at the downfall of the 'neo-elite' in equal measure

it's t-minus 5 days until the second great conversion goes live. let's all pray for our souls

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter One - I Hate You

Is me starting another series before my dissertation a really bad idea? Yes, yes it is (but i had the idea and I need to get it written down asap)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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"Get out of my apartment!"

In the doorway of a little two bedroom apartment in Woking was Y/N L/N. She had a bad on her back and at least three suitcases behind her. And in front of her was Lando Norris, her teammate, biggest rival and mortal enemy.

Lando stared at her, dumbfounded. "Your apartment?" He repeated, expression still shocked. "No, Zac said this one is for me."

"Then why did he give me a key for apartment 241?"

They held up the exact same set of keys on the exact same keyring. Lando let out a sigh through his nose as he pocketed his version of the key. "Somebody clearly has royally fucked up," he said and sat on the couch.

"I'm gonna call him," said Y/N as she put the key back into her pocket. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialled the number of her boss.

Zac Brown had been hers and Lando's boss for the last year and few months. He'd been dealing with hers and Lando's shit from day one, ever sine they revealing the McLaren car for that year. They'd almost gotten onto a fight on the stage in front of everybody.

Zac picked up the phone in just a few rings. "How're you liking the new place?" He asked in way of hello.

"It's great, Zac. Except it comes with an annoying little prick," Y/N spat.

There was a second where Zac didn't say anything. He saw this coming, had tried to mitigate it as best he could by telling Lando he'd be getting a roommate. Of course, he didn't say who that roommate would be: that would have just been asking for trouble.

But, then again, all of this was asking for trouble. Zac had been waiting for a call from at least one of them since he got into the office (he'd hoped it would have been Lando; over the past year he'd proven himself to be easier to deal with than Y/N, who didn't back down. No matter what).

"Get yourself unpacked, I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Zac put the phone down. He didn't say goodbye to his drivers, unless it was on race days. With nowhere left to go, Y/N dragged her things into the apartment. "Where's the second bedroom?" She grumbled as she looked down at Lando.

Without looking away from the television, Lando pointed behind him. But that wasn't helpful, since there was the kitchen just behind them and then two doors. "Furthest one," he said and Y/N dragged her bags through the rest of the apartment, heading to the furthest away bedroom.

The bedroom was sizeable, with a double bed and wardrobe already inside. But, other than that, there wasn't a lot. Y/N unpacked nothing but bedding and clothes for the next day. There was no way she was staying here, not living with Lando Norris.

***

Carpooling made so much sense when going to the same place as somebody, unless you hated that person. Zac watched from his office as two cars pulled up outside of the McLaren Technology centre.

The drivers got out of the car almost in sync. They both wore sunglasses as they strode towards the doors, Y/N's glare not visible behind her sunglasses as she followed Lando inside.

Things were clearly tense between them as they walked through the office. The drivers said nothing to each other, but their expressions said enough.

Where Lando took an elevator up to Zac's office, Y/N took the stairs. She ran up them, the two of them arriving at the same time (one of them out of breath and the other smirking at her).

She took the lead as they strode into the office. "Zac," Y/N began, but the CEO held his hand.

He wasn't like other bosses, he was a cool boss. But he was still there boss and, when he held up his hand, the two knew to shut up. "Sit down," he said, leaning back in his own chair.

Y/N and Lando sat in the seats on the other side of the desk. Her leg bounced as she waited for Zac to speak and Lando had his hands shoved into his pockets. Neither of them could ever agree on anything, except the fact that they're not leaving the room until they're not living together.

Zac laced his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You're both brilliant drivers," he began, "but you're both liabilities. You've both cost us millions because you keep trying to kill each other on the track. And your behaviour towards each other off track is bringing bad press to all of us at McLaren," he finished.

"We don't want to lose either of you as drivers, so we've come up with the brilliant plan to force you to get along."

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at her boss. "And if we refuse?" She asked him, placing one leg on top of the other.

"Then, we'll have to let one of both of you go. But the choice is yours."

But the choice wasn't really theirs. No matter what, they couldn't lose their seats, so they were just going to have to stick it out, suffer through it. Fuck.

The tension between the two wasn't just random. It had been brewing since their karting days. Even then they ran each other off the tracks and fought between races. Of course, back then it wasn't as big a deal.

There were way too many videos of when they were kids and they'd pushed each other off the track, gotten out of their karts and gotten into a physical fight. If they weren't so clearly talented, it would have affected their careers.

For the first few months of their Formula One careers in McLaren, the team thought they had made a mistake. If they weren't consistently in the points, Zac would have gotten rid of the both of them. But, truth be told, they were too good to let go.

So, he dangled this threat in front of them. Learn to get along or one of you is sacked. He'd thought about this hard, realised that this was the perfect threat. Y/N and Lando were so competitive that the thought of one of them losing their seat while the other thrived would have torn them apart.

"Fine," said Y/N. She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sat on, fell backwards. She quickly picked it up and rushed out of the office.

Lando said a goodbye to Zac and walked out of the office, rushing after her. He ran into the elevator just before the doors slid shut and stood beside her. They didn't look at each other, stared straight at the doors as the elevator took them down. "Sup, new roommate," he said with a smirk.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open. "I hate you," Y/N said and walked out of the McLaren technology centre.

She drove her way back to the apartment in Woking in complete silence. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight that it left imprints on her skin, on her palms and her finger tip.

How she didn't get pulled over for speeding, she'd never know. But the speed limit was the least of her concern as she made her way back to what was her new home.

But it would never be her home, not while Lando was living there.

***

Reluctantly, she unpacked her things. Hung her clothes up in her wardrobe and placed her underwear in the drawers. Y/N placed pictures of her family, pictures of her old F2 car, of her pets, of her car from the previous year up around her room. She pulled her lamp from her back and placed it on the bedside table, along with her phone, its charger, and her toiletries.

Lando had arrived home just minutes after her, but she'd already locked herself in her room. The only way they'd be able to get through this was by avoiding each other.

When her things were unpacked, Y/N sat on the bed and grabbed a book. A biography, all about the life of Enzo Ferrari. The one thing her room was missing was her sim racing rig, something her father was meant to bring up that day, but Y/N had told him to wait until she had somewhere new to live (which, we all know didn't happen. She was stuck in this apartment with Lando, whether she liked it or not).

Pressing her ear to the door, Y/N listened as Lando walked around. She waited until he walked past her room and into his own, shutting the door behind him. Only then did she walk out of her room to get herself something to eat and drink.

She could do this. All she had to do was avoid him.

Easy.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

[tommykinard6]

Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

[hypnoneghoul]

yapped about different university ghouls dynamics with @skele-bunny and @everybodyshusband. part 1/2, swissalps

university teacher swiss who got through his studies high 90% of the time and then one day got the job and now he's the token cool teacher & quiet but passionate professor mountain that shares an office with swiss (they fuck)

swiss "forgetting" to give mountain hickies below the collar so they end up sooo visible and look very clearly fresh

mountain stumbling out all disheveled out of the office a few minutes late for class and swiss following with the biggest grin. they both go to the other side of the corridor where their students are waiting by the rooms for them—it just so happens that they're next to each other. the students know exactly what went down

or rather who went down

mountain would sooo embarrass himself if they had to host a lecture or a seminar together. he just stutters and gets bashful, while swiss is the kind to throw teases and jokes at him that always makes the class laugh

a student comes to mountain like "sorry i missed last class, i've had to retake a test with professor (whatever swiss' last name would be)" and it's more than enough to get mountain blushing

imagine swiss just interrupting mountain in the middle of class "ah i let mine go half an hour early cause i wanted to see what the second most handsome professor here was up to" and he sits in the back of the room for the remaining half an hour and mountain can not keep a straight face

mountain would come into swiss' classes too, because swiss would invite him for a consultation or some other bullshit excuse. he's smart, tho, and he plans the class so that mountains expertise actually is useful and the students are busy, but swiss will be a tease then; bend himself over a table or something to give mountain flashbacks lmfao

I think they jump around each other like that, fucking occasionally, for a few months. like colleagues with benefits

swiss falls in love first, but mountain falls harder

one day swiss goes out to smoke despite it being horrendously cold outside and mountain sees him from the window of their office. he bites his lip and fights internally with himself so hard but finally decides to suck it up and go outside with two mugs of hot coffee

after that it's swiss’ turn to suck it up and he finally invites mountain for dinner—a proper date, and honestly it just goes down from there

a few months later swiss finds out their students had a bet going on for the longest time hfdgdffd

coffee date while they grade assignments together and mountain can't help but laugh and roll his eyes about how careless swiss is with it all "you really did find your phd in a bag of chips, didn't you?"

"no, actually, I stole a dead guy's identity 'cause I saw there was a hot professor I could share an office with and ended up committing to the act"

"do you even remember what your dissertation is on or were you too high?"

"I definitely know it better than you" but then it turns out mountain actually might be more familiar with it than swiss himself because he totally did study his dissertation just so he could find some common points for an academic conversation (because mountain is not social enough to have a conversation about anything else)

mountain standing up for swiss when some other professors that consider themselves better than everyone talk shit about swiss. something something "he's as competent as all of you and yet, unlike you, is still capable of being a decent human being."

swiss could be a sociolinguist and mountain would be a literature guy 100%

students begging mountain to remind swiss he was supposed to grade something or send some materials cause he forgets. mountain with a clean uni-domain email inbox and swiss with 83475742 unread messages from students and management alike

quickie sex in the car before they go in to teach

[shittyassffblog]

In Sickness and In Health

Someone said they wanted noah taking care of Y/N when they were sick and i took that upon myself lol (not at all procrastinating my dissertation noooooo) anyways here. They're married too yay

If anyone wants to go on a taglist for when i post send me an inbox and i'll add you to it!

Warnings: illness (cold and coughing), fluff, any others please tell me.

You woke up to the most annoying sound of your alarm going off. You had never been more pissed at your alarm before and soon you felt it. Your left nostril all blocked up. You groaned out loud and turned under your covers only for the other nostril to be blocked off too now. You opened your eyes to see the other side of the bed empty. Noah must be at the gym.

You got up from the bed to get a shower, hoping that would clear up some of the goo in your nose. As you got undressed, you called your work to tell them you were sick. You put on some calming music and got in the warm water. You lost track of time in there, the warm water being so soothing. You quickly washed your body and hair and got out again. You took your time doing your skincare, rubbing your whole body with bodyoil. You walked into your bedroom to find Noah half dressed, looking through his drawers for a pair of underwear. You hugged him from behind and he juped slightly.

"Hey princess, what are you doing home?" He asked, turning around and hugging you close.

"I'm sick." You said simply, your stuffed nose providing evidence of your claim.

"Then what are you doing out of bed?!" He asked incrediously. You smiled.

"I can shower by myself baby, you go shower." You said and siled at him.

"No?! I'm gonna make you some tea and some good breakfast, and then we will spend all day on the couch cuddling." He said with a firm grip on your arms.

"Okay but could you shower first? You smell." You said and he laughed.

"How would you know that, you can't smell anything." He said kissing your forehead and going to take a shower. You laughed to yourself and went to get settled on the couch with your phone.

You were a good 20 minutes into your tiktok scroll when Noah emerged from the bathroom, wet hair and a pair of black tight underwear on.

"You should never wear anythign else." You said and he grinned.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked and you pondered for a bit.

"Waffles with berries and whipped cream." You said and he laughed.

"Be serious, you can't have that if you're sick. You need healthy food." He said and you pouted. "What about avocado toast? You can have the berries on the side." He said and you sighed through your mouth.

"Alright. But I want juice as well." You said and he laughed again.

"Sure angel." He said.

"Can i have the controller?" You asked pointing to the Playstation 5 controller that was by the TV.

"Of course baby. You want the blankets too?" he asked and you nodded. He wrapped you in the blankets tightly and handed you the controller and turned on the TV, handing you the remote.

"Wait here gorgeous, i'll fix you some food." He said, kissing your head and you smiled as you started up GTAV on the giant flat screen that adorned your wall.

Noah soon returned with the food he promised, placing the plate on your lap and the glass of juice on the little table beside your couch. He plopped down beside you and you handed him the controller to continue the game while you ate.

"You're so trash at this." You said, mouth full of food. He was so concentrated on the game his tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth, turning the controller the way he wanted the car to go.

"Yeah well i was learning guitar when i was a kid i didn't play car games." He said and you laughed. Once you were done eating you put down your plate and drank half of the orange juice. You took back the controller, putting Franklin in the game out of his misery and finished the mission. You then put the controller down and opened tiktok, scrolling a few videos down.

"Aren't you going to practice?" You asked Noah, who was supposed to be in the soundproof basement. He shook his head and pulled you close so your head was resting against his chest.

"No, cancelled." He said squeezing you tightly into his body.

"Why?" You asked looking up at him.

"Would rather make sure you were okay. It's never nice to be alone when you're sick." Noah said and your heart warmed. You truly had found the best husband ever.

"But don't you need to practice some of the new songs?" You asked and he shook his head.

"No we're good. Just relax baby." He said and you turned back to your phone.

-

You woke up to the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen, and you looked out the window to see the sun was setting. You didn't know how long you had been asleep for, you don't even remember falling asleep, but apparently now the sun was setting, and from the sounds of it, Noah was doing the dishes. You got off the couch and walked out to find him, wrapping the blanket around you.

"Baby." You said groggily. Noah turned around quickly and smiled when he saw you.

"Hey sweets. You okay?" He asked as he hugged you around your blanket. You nodded into his chest.

"yeah j's missed you." You said and ge chuckled.

"I'm right here baby." He said as he started to sway you slightly back and forth.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he asked and you nodded. You shuffled back into the living room, Noah right on your heels, and you put on Twilight, which Noah had never seen.

"I swear i'm only okay with this cause you're sick." He said and you looked at him.

"Sure. That's the only reason." You said and laid your head in his hand. He han his large tattoed hands through your hair softly as the events of Bella and Edward took place on the screen. You almost fell asleep again if it wasn't because you absolutely loved this movie.

"Is there more of this?" Noah asked and you chuckled.

"Yes. 4 more movies." You said and he yelped in surprise.

"They made that many?!" He asked and you laughed.

"Yes, it was very popular book series, it made a lot of money!" You laughed as he found the next one.

"You need anything before it starts?" He asked as he ran his hand along your leg.

"A cup of tea would be nice, yeah." You said and kissed his hand. He got up to make the tea and you were suddenly filled with a feeling of complete love and joy for the tattooed man you were sharing your life with. You had never felt so loved before, never felt so cared for and you adored the way he was taking care of you and making sure you felt good. Loving Noah was the best thing that ever happened to you and as he came back and sta beside you, unpausing the movie and being so invested in a thing you really loved, you couldn't stop yourself from kissing him deep.

"Great now I'll get sick." He said, no real venom behind his words, and a big smile on his lips.

"And i will take care of you." You said and kissed him again.

________________

So yeah that's it guys. Hope you like itttt. send me requests and feedback in my inbox <3

[cozymochi]

Hi Mochi! First off, I just wanted to say I love your art and OC'S! They are beautiful and very cool! Cecil kind of radiates baby girl energy in my humble opinion.

But I had a question about Nyoka. It's mentioned in his notes that he covers the scales on his face and arms with makeup or an undershirt, and the only visible ones are on his neck. Was this just for design reasons, or is he like self Conscious of them?

I'm just curious about the answer! 😊 Anyway, have a great day!

thANK YOU FOR READING THE NOTES ACTUALLY AAAAA 😳😭

It’s nothing too deep. Good news, he’s not self conscious of them ���� He just covers the ones on his face to blend into the background a little more. He is a reptile amongst mammals and just wants to be left alone. Design wise, he already has quite a bit going on already on his face (the glasses, the specific eye makeup etc.), it’s just simpler to work with. I don’t really like too much busy-ness, and I do want people drawn to his eyes first. (does it work who knows idk) Though if I were to keep yapping I’d end up doing a dissertation on the trials of translating and evoking a cartoon snake into this guy. [dies]

Otherwise without the makeup the scales on his face are comparable to Snake’s face in Black Butler. If I bothered refining Nyoka’s refs more, then that detail on the main post it would’ve been clearer. SO HERE IT IS:

Though, someone like Snake in general is a lot more simpler looking (positive) compared to Nyoka, so him having little details like that on his face already adds a little more flair to make him stand out. I think for Nyoka it’s fine to omit them given how much he already has going on and my priorities. (But they’re there 😳. I still think they’re cool looking.)

As for the undershirt, that’s just me pointing out that scales are there but just happen to be covered as a result.

It’s just a a design thing and a visual shorthand attempt on my end to register a more “diligent book-type” student amongst a dorm of primarily athletes. Also he looked kinda weird to me in the standard dorm uniform without it. Kind of in that same way Ruggie would look kinda weird if he wasn’t wearing the dorm uniform in the way he does that fits his character more. (For reference: the default Savanaclaw uniform is how Jack and other NPCs wear it. It just looked weird on him is all.)

But I suppose in-universe It could also be read as a means of Nyoka once again just trying to blend into the background. He just dresses like that willingly. 😩 He just doesn’t want attention. He’s not wearing heels in his dorm uniform, I didnt show it but trust me.

He has scales lining the sides of his entire body length, but unless I were to show off his base mannequin, no one would really be able to know lol 😂 Having them peek out around the neck was just a more subtle visual indicator of what he is and neat looking to me. Adds a lil’ bit of spice that was lost in the shuffle. That’s really it. Just pointing out that they’re there.

UHHHHHHUNNGH I LOVE answering stuff like this thank you 😭😭 Anything that involves me explaining design choices tends to make me act a fool since it’s pretty rare so I might overdo it a bit. Literally even the tiniest aspects have paragraphs worth of reasonings behind it so i uhhsgdhdghs i promise all this stuff is intentional. And im only scratching the surface tbh. 😭👍 but thank yooou💃💖💖

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 3

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall and Y/N decide to celebrate a sobriety milestone but bad news get in the way.

Tag : -

A few weeks went by and you slowly started to adapt to what you could call your new normal. You were getting used to living with your friends and started working on your doctoral dissertation again, while going to meetings and making it to therapy. Every so often, you’d be invited to hang out in the studio with Talia and the boys and spend a couple of hours with them. However, most of your time was devoted to uni work so you didn’t hang out with them too much. In fact, today would be the first day you’d see them in a couple of weeks. If you were honest, you were particularly excited to see Marshall. The two of you had crossed path a number of times since you went on that drive and you always had a good time when you were with him. At that point, it was safe to say you had developed a harmless crush on him. Nothing major, but you did particularly enjoy looking at him and you were always happy to hug him hello and goodbye. You knew he would never be interested in you, so you simply decided to enjoy the sensation of feeling good in his presence.

The night after the two of you went on a drive, Talia had been grilling you with questions, but there was not much to say. The two of you had not talked about it but you were pretty sure she knew about your crush. She knew you too well anyway. Whatever, it was harmless, although she did make sure to always have you sit next to Marshall whenever she had the chance.

That day, you were happy for three reasons : first, it was Friday, which meant you would enjoy the weekend and some much needed rest from uni. Secondly, you were celebrating two months being sober. It hadn’t been without its trials, but you had made it so far and were extremely proud. Finally, you got to see Marshall. You were all smiles when you pushed the door to the studio and greeted everyone.

- Y/N, we have been waiting for you like you have no idea ! Jamal said.

- Oh really ? You asked in disbelief. Is that because you produce your best work whenever I’m around ? You asked with a smirk.

- Kind of, he answered jokingly. But it’s mostly because Marshall has been in a bad mood all day, which usually doesn’t happen when you’re around. So whatever it is, please work your magic and make our life bearable again, I beg of you, he added as he fell to his knees for good measure, in a very dramatic and theatrical way.

- Speaking of the devil, where is he ?

No one had time to answer your question, as Marshall came in the room, looking unnerved and slamming the door behind him. You looked at Talia, whose look confirmed that he was indeed in a bad mood. Everyone was silent.

- Now can we please give it a couple more tries and get that right ? Marshall asked exasperated.

- We’ve been working on that song for hours and nothing good came out, someone pointed out. How about we circle back to that later ?

- No, Marshall said coldly. We can get that thing to sound right and we will.

- Stubborn much ? Jamal asked jokingly before Marshall shot him a death glare.

You didn’t know if Marshall had seen you there or not but you weren’t sure as to whether or not greeting him was a good idea. You just sat next to Talia and stared at your phone as you were trying to finish reading a paper. You didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings before you heard Marshall slamming his head against the mixing desk.

- Fuck. He said. We’re already behind on schedule. This album is going to be my last, I swear. If it ever even gets done.

- You already said that for the last one, Paul pointed out jokingly.

- Yeah well you know what ? I’m soon to turn fifty-two. I’m too old for that shit anyways, Marshall replied.

- Come on, dude. We have our good luck charm here today, Jamal said pointing at you.

You smiled shyly at Marshall, who seemed to ease a little.

- Hey there, he said before getting up to properly greet you. Sorry I didn’t say hi before. That was rude.

- It’s ok, you said as you hugged him. So… last album before you become an accountant ? You know, you could ask my dad for pointers, you said jokingly.

Marshall laughed and kissed your cheek.

- Ok, maybe I was being a bit dramatic and maybe it won’t be the last one, he said with a laugh.

Jamal looked at the two of you in disbelief, yet smiling.

- So he’s been an ass all day, and now that Y/N has been here for ten minutes, he’s laughing ?

Everyone laughed and Marshall raised his middle finger.

- Now that you’re in a better mood, can we PLEASE take a cigarette break ? Someone asked.

- Fine, Marshall said rolling his eyes, as most people left the room and he went back to his seat, scribbling in this notebook.

After a moment of silence, you decided to talk.

- I have News, you said.

- Good or bad ? He asked without looking up.

- Well, you tell me, you said with a smile, proudly showing your newly-earned sobriety chip.

He greeted you with a smile and pulled you in for a hug.

- I’m proud of you, he said before kissing you on the forehead, making you blush. We should celebrate.

- Really ? How so ?

- Dinner ? He offered.

- That sounds good, you said. How about you come tomorrow night ? I’ll cook !

- I’m intrigued, he said. So you’re beautiful, smart AND you can cook ?

- I would also showcase my dancing abilities, but you’d be too jealous, you joked, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he called you beautiful.

The two of you shared a laugh but were interrupted by people coming back from their break. They resumed the work and, thankfully for everyone, Marshall ended up being pleased by one of the versions they recorded.

The next day, you decided to go shopping for your celebration dinner. You decided to cook some French recipe. « Whatever you want, unless it’s frogs or snails » Talia had told you. A while ago, you may or may not have tried to get your friends to taste snails, which ended up in a complete disaster. You were excited to cook and were in a good mood when you arrived to the store. You quickly grabbed the items you needed but the joy left your body when you reached the register and saw Simon - your Simon - kissing a beautiful woman as they were grabbing a few items. He seemed happy as ever. You could not help but stare at them and wonder for how long they’d been together. Something about their demeanour made it feel like they’d been a couple for ages. As you lowered your gaze, in hope they wouldn’t notice you, Simon called your name.

- Y/N ?

- Simon. Hi, you said.

- You look… well, he pointed out.

- I am, thank you, you replied. How are you ?

- Good. Kind of busy.

- I figured, you couldn’t help but say, quickly staring at the beautiful lady he was with.

- I meant with work.

- Oh. Right. Well I’d love to chat but I have to go. Have a good one.

You paid and quickly left the store. For some reason, you felt humiliated, even though Simon had every right to date whoever he liked. After all, you hadn’t been together for nearly three months. Plus, Simon was the very définition of perfection : handsome, polite, successful. Looking back, it was kind of obvious he wouldn’t have trouble finding someone else. And it wasn’t exactly like he made a promise to wait for you either.

Even though you tried your best not to cry on the way home, you sniffled as you walked through the door.

- Baby, are you alright ? Talia asked.

- I saw Simon, today. Kissing someone.

As soon as the words left your lips, tears started to stream down your cheeks.

- Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry ! She said before giving you a much needed hug.

- I know it’s silly but some part of me thought that… I’d get better and we’d get back together and… and…

- I know. I thought you guys were endgame too, she said sheepishly.

She held you for a while as you sobbed.

- Let’s focus on the positive, honey ! Let’s celebrate those two months of you getting better. I’ll help you cook, she offered.

- Do you mind if we reschedule ? You asked. I don’t feel like celebrating. Or cooking. Or eating, for that matter.

- Are you sure, baby ? Marshall should be here soon. I promise we’ll have a good night, just the four of us, she tried.

- Yeah… can you call him and tell him I’m sorry ? I think I should go to my room and rest for a bit.

You apologised once again and left the items on the kitchen counter before going to your room. You changed into some sweatpants and a tank top and laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It dawned on you that Simon and you were truly over. Even though you tried thinking of something else, you couldn’t help but seeing him with that girl. She was truly beautiful. Probably more deserving of him, too. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing from your eyes. It felt like a fountain. Deep down, you knew it was your fault. You were the one who screwed up. He was the perfect match for you, you screwed up and now, you’d probably end up alone.

You heard a knock on the door.

- I’m fine, Talia, you said while wiping away your tears.

- It’s not Talia, you heard Marshall’s voice say. Can I come in ?

Marshall ? What was he doing here ? You quickly got up and opened the door.

- Hey, you said. I’m sorry, I told Talia to cancel for tonight. I’m feeling a bit under the weather…

- She told me about your ex, he said. But she thought we should do something to get your mind off things. Come here.

He pulled you in for a hug. He grabbed your face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s face so swollen after crying, he said with a smile.

- I know, I’m an ugly cryer, you replied.

- Everyone’s ugly when they cry, he pointed out.

- No, that’s not true. Some people manage to stay hot even when they cry.

- Well I’ve never seen that, he said as he shook his head.

- I’m sure Ms. Perfection over there is still beautiful when she cries, you mumbled.

- Who ? Marshall asked, looking confused.

- The girl Simon was kissing. You should have seen her, Marshall. So beautiful. Tall. And blonde. And skinny. And perfect for him in every way. The opposite of me.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of her.

- As beautiful as she may be, I’m sure she can’t compete with you, Marshall said.

- You haven’t seen her, you pointed out.

- I don’t need to, he shrugged.

He was just being nice and you knew it full well. Still, the compliments made you feel a bit better.

- Why don’t you join Talia and Jamal ? Let me just put on something other than sweats and I’ll start cooking.

- I thought you wanted to cancel dinner ? He asked, looking confused.

- Yeah, but Talia still made you come all this way, so I might as well feed you.

- That’s awfully nice of you, he said with a grin.

- Nice of you to come, you said with a shy smile.

- Anything for you, Y/N, he replied with a serious tone. You can call me and I’ll be there.

- Good thing I don’t have your number, you said with a smile. You’d never live in peace otherwise.

- Let’s correct that, shall we ?

He grabbed your phone and entered his number in it.

- Now you can call me, he said. Anytime.

- Thanks, Marshall.

You gave him a shy smile and immediately rang him so he’d have your number too.

- I can help you cooking if you want, he offered. But I should warn you : I’m not too good at it.

- You’re a grown man and you can’t cook ? You asked in disbelief.

- Well I guess I can prepare food. I even worked as a short-order cook, a long time ago. I wouldn’t call that cooking though. Neither would my kids, he said with a grin.

- I’ll teach you a thing or two, then. Let me just get dressed.

- Why ? He asked. We’re staying in. You don’t have to make an effort for me.

You shrugged and headed to the kitchen with him. Truth was, you didn’t want Marshall to think of you as sloppy. Even though he did not really seem to care.

When you entered the kitchen, you found Jamal and Talia hugging and kissing like teenagers.

- You guys are too cute. I can’t handle that right now, you said.

- Yeah, please don’t rub your happiness in our single faces, Marshall pleaded.

- Sorry guys, I’m too in love with this gorgeous lady, Jamal said.

Both you and Marshall pretended to puke. The four of you laughed and started cooking together while listening to music. You tried teaching them how to prepare some traditional French chicken dish. It was a simple one but you hadn’t exactly been given the most attentive students. Marshall was desperately trying to cut the vegetables correctly (nearly destroying them in the process), while Talia and Jamal kept on making out like teenagers. You ended up preparing the dish by yourself. It wasn’t perfect but the group deemed it to be good enough.

- Don’t worry Y/N. If you keep cooking like that, we’ll find you a husband soon enough, Jamal complimented.

- JAMAL ! Talia shouted.

- Sorry. Wrong timing, he apologised. You know what I mean.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Jamal was really sweet and you knew he meant well.

- it’s good to hear you laugh, Talia said as she grabbed your hand.

- Thanks for being here, guys, you replied. My day sucked but you make it better.

- Anytime, Marshall said.

The four of you kept the conversation going but were soon disturbed by the door buzzing. Talia went to answer.

- Hey Talia. Is Y/N here ? I’d like to speak to her, you heard an all too familiar voice say.

- Simon ? You asked as your heart started racing. What are you doing here ?

[notedchampagne]

Bro the 6th familial relationships fuck me up so much like the weird Juno and Pal more of a mentor than a mother vibes? And it seems like from Dr Sex that her and Pal's dad are either divorced or just straight up had nothing to do with each other until the genomics department decided they should have a child together?? Like imagine you're a ruthless academic career-woman and one day you get an email from the government like 'congrats! You're a mother!' And they hand you a fresh vat baby that is half you and half your co-worker that you talked to one time at the Christmas party like??? I don't think I would have the most healthy relationship with that child either tbh

And Cam! Earlier in Nona when Pal and Pyrrha are talking about going to the park it is only Kiki that he mentions she might want to save, no mention that apparently both her parents are there too? Her entire family is on the line here. Then she doesn't want her dads to see the Paul transformation because they "wouldn't understand"? You just know there's some long running disagreement there with how far she's yoking herself in with Pal. Do you think they secretly resent him? Did this cause a rift in their family? And what did the conversation look like before or after the transformation? Did Cam tell them she was about to die? Or did they turn away for five seconds and she finally killed herself for her obsessions behind their back? Who broke the news to them? (Who is going to break the news to Pal's dad?) The whole thing just makes me insane!!!!

Also apparently there is some incredible nepotism going on in the 6th oversight body here (or maybe everything is nepotism on the 6th lol)

YOU GET ME i love the 6th house so so much the way the house functions both as a united family w their genetics & a university with the academic quibbling is so fun to me- the sixths weakness was described as "A sprawling organization of erratic loners, the Sixth are chaotic by nature and terrible at collective action." which is 1) hilarious. palamedes is the peoples marxist princess 2) just generally fascinating as a whole. if we take that at face value and consider the 6th house as populated by genius loner nerds, it actually makes sense that they prioritize sending out attractive people to diversify the gene pool - with reference to your statement: dr sex provided a nice handful of evidence that while palamedes and juno have a formal dynamic, theyre affectionate enough that they seem close (at most, to the extent of some gay kid and their favorite english teacher) but seeing juno like a distant mentor is most likely right

taking on more quotes from dr sex, i think its most likely that the Sixth house encourages child bearing / raising through subsidies and an extended work leave of sorts:

Palamedes said, “Enjoying parenting. Enjoying the parenting buyout, I should say. He’s only doing dissertation supervision—and half a year of Immediate History, of course—but he’s got his own projects on the go.”

alexandrites and nireids might be required to go offworld to flirt and have children (i think i came across another post floating somewhere noticing kiki and cam were half-sisters, implying their parent was one of the mentioned) but for residents staying in the sixth house, they probably have about 3-7 other people they could possibly produce children with outside of consanguinity. although forcing them to have children by way of vat birth etc etc is entirely possible in Hell Empire a lot of them probably gave in just for a few years of parental & academic benefits.

one last point - sixth house children canonically live in a dormitory! so if you consider a professor going on paid leave to raise children while doing their own projects for about 7-9 years, then going back to work while their children are sent to a dorm to do nothing but study and train with other peers their age, it falls together so perfectly bro. it makes so much sense. of course pal and cam are nice to their parents but rarely ever close - they were most likely raised and taught communally! god i love worldbuilding

[boundinparchment]

Fortuna Minor

This is for @threadbaresweater's Summertime (and the livin' is easy) collab event! The chosen prompt was Il Dottore and "starry nights and stargazing" but goes off the rails a little bit to encompass the melancholy of that gap when old friends are left behind (and maybe found again).

On AO3 here || Words: 1563 || Gender-neutral reader, parting of ways, finding friends again. References to Genshin's lore regarding fate and based on the theory that Zandik is Dottore.

The quiet between you and anyone else would be disconcerting, enough to throw off your measurements and interrupt your thoughts.  But that was precisely why you’d invited Zandik out to the open fields tonight. 

You needed to look up at the sky and anchor yourself one more time to the unchanging stars above.

This was your last night.

Tomorrow, you would be somewhere else.  Perhaps in a pocket between leylines.  Or dead.

At some point, the theoretical had to become tangible.  And the only way to know was to try.  You’d defended your third dissertation and now could wander as you pleased with the title of Dashtur, provided your project was approved.

What the Sages didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“I’m sorry I won’t be going with you,” you said, the words so soft you wondered if you only spoke them in your head.

As you pulled your eyes away from the astrolabe to write down measurements, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.  Blades of grass bent and gave way underfoot, their destiny already predetermined to contain their own semi-destruction.

“Sohreh will miss you,” Zandik replied.

“Sohreh will miss my chai,” you replied, casting a pointed look at him through your lashes.  “Her theories about evolution are contrary to the laws my darshan has established regarding the world we live in.  She does not appreciate my company.”

Not like you do.

Zandik didn’t so much laugh as he did scoff, silence taking his tongue again.  He was not good with sentimental moments and you asked him here knowing that.

Between the three of you, Spantamad and Amurta and Rtawahist came together in a unique way that often put your integrity and ethics in the line of fire; it was not uncommon for darshans to work together but when it came to the child from the forest who was one of the youngest scholars this century…

“The ruins won’t be anything remarkable, I’m sure,” he said at last.  “Not compared to the Primordial Sea that was discussed in those texts of yours.  And certainly nothing like the machines of the desert.  The Eremites speak of technology different from that of the Dahri.  Smaller, more agile devices and creations, utilizing electro energy stores in crystals.  They supposedly convert the beating rays of the sun.”

In the distance, you peered over your telescope and saw the cresting point of King Deshret’s empire.  The light emitted from the pyramid made your work difficult some nights, polluting the sky and ruining the magnificence above.  Special lenses had to be created for various pieces of equipment purely to counteract the phenomenon.

Without them, you wouldn’t have found the corner of the constellation you were looking for.

“Ah, there you are,” you hissed.

You adjusted the pitch and focus before you held up your sextant to measure the coordinates.  After a moment, you continued Zandik’s topic.

“You say supposedly but you speak as if you know.”

Zandik approached, closing the distance, and held a purple crystal set in bronze between his thumb and forefinger.  It was a few inches long, easily rivaling some of the jewels you saw on the Sages’ fingers.

“Where did you—?”

“Caravan Ribat.”

You scrunched your face; it took at least a day to get to the edge of the Wall, let alone a round trip.  It was difficult in a group when there were so many tigers out that way.  A Corp of Thirty escort was often needed if scholars wanted to go that far west.

“The benefit of being an outcast,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

He was going to get himself killed one day if he kept to himself and continued to look into devices not sanctioned by the Akademiya.  There weren’t many but anything from the desert was considered primitive and not worth the time.  After all, Deshret succumbed to Forbidden Knowledge; he was a prime example of looking too deeply.

“What do you intend to do with it?” you asked as you ignored the hammering of your heart.

“I’ve begun to hypothesize that there might be some compatibility between the mechanisms of the Dahri and Deshret’s creations.  They both rely on elemental energy and pull from the leylines beneath our feet.  But they utilize it differently…Deshret was clearly inspired by those who came before him.  Imagine what might be possible if we could harness that power for ourselves, instead of giving it to machines without cognitive abilities…”

He continued on well into the night, regaling you with ideas while you measured and counted star after star, charting your course.  After all, you needed a map to determine the direction to go in.  

And a memory of this night.  Of him.

As you walked back to the Akademiya, equipment in your arms, Zandik shattered the quiet that came peacefully with a conclusion of a tangent, startling the nearby shroomboar.  It gave a huff but then fell back into a slumber, no doubt dreaming of Zaytun Peaches and Sweetflower.

“You’re onto something, you know.”

“Elaborate,” you chuckled.  “I’ve got at least three ideas bouncing around any given time.”

“Defying fate.  How most think it impossible because the stars never change with the seasons.  Constellations burning out and on occasion, renewing themselves.  Everything is made up of energy, even stars, and the laws of entropy dictate that energy cannot cease existing, it just takes a different form.  And if everything is elemental energy, then the ley lines that house them are veins, no?  Or perhaps roots for something else.  Plants leech their energy from the soil and the sun.”

“Humans are unrooted, though,” you countered.

“Not to the stars.  It is impossible not to look up and stare.  Find a single human who does not take a second every night to look up.”

“It’s a little too abstract just yet.  My expedition should yield some evidence one way or another, as will yours.  I do wish the timing was better.”

Zandik looked up for a second, red eyes scanning the sky and tracing lines that you knew by heart.  His constellation was up there, somewhere, but you learned early on not to pry when he didn’t give his alongside Sohreh and the others.  He kept it close.  And around you, the Rtawahist student who dared to consider that stars should be moveable, that between gravity and the rotation of the world, things should change.

“We’ll meet again.  One way or another,” he said at last.  “Under a different set of stars.”

You could tell from the angle of his head and the purse of his lips that he had more to say.  So much more.  Much like his constellation, he held them back, whatever sentiments he held in his head kept so far under wraps that you were certain not even drink would pry them loose.

He looked at you just once before you parted ways for the night and you buried the selfish pang in your chest to steal him away.  Your work was done here.  

His, on the other hand, had only just begun.

Snow crunched and cracked under your boot as you trekked through the tundra, auroras dancing above you.  Your lungs burned not with excretion but from the frigid climate, so cold that it seared your very bones.

Why had he come here of all places?  Couldn’t he have gone to the desert, where at least the sun showed itself year round?

Hunting down your old companion was something out of a Fontainian murder mystery.  Sumeru changed drastically upon your return and you came to find that traveling through the veins of the world affected not only space but time.  Somehow, Zandik defied the average lifespan and while the trail grew cold, the Eremites in the desert knew the description you provided so vividly that you wondered if you were hallucinating.

Funny.  He left his homeland and yet still maintained a professional connection with the mercenaries of the desert.  A single solitary crumb.

One that, upon your arrival to the facility, made you question if you had enough evidence to back up who you claimed to be.  The human mind eroded quickly after a certain decade and your companion was, well…several centuries old.  

You were taken aback when you recognized short teal hair and an enthusiastic gait, wild gestures and a boisterous tone.  The side of him that only showed itself when your group was deep within a debate and working on weaving various threads together for an idea.

But that wasn’t actually Zandik, you quickly discovered, when you were led to an office that held an air of foreboding.

“You’re not him?” you asked your escort.

“I am, but I’m not.  I remember you but I’ve never met you.  He knew of your arrival hours ago.  The door is open.”

Questions filled your mind and began to overflow but the not-Zandik turned heel and left before you could ask another.  How had a scholar from Sumeru, one accused of various sins in his pursuits of knowledge and accused of the murder of his friend (were they just friends, you wondered), now the Second Fatui Harbinger?  A role that rivaled a Sage, so close to divinity, he might as well have…

You pushed the door open and met a pair of red eyes so striking, you would know them anywhere.

“Hello, Zandik.”

[ddarker-dreams]

current dumb thought of the day: trying to watch a movie with yan phantom troupe members.

for chrollo, you need to present a dissertation to explain the merits that will be gained from watching said movie. if not, he gets this slightly condescending air where he acts like he's doing you a favor by letting you watch it. he sighs and goes 'i suppose we could watch this, if that's what you really want...' in truth, he's just seen your favorite movies so many times he can repeat them word for word. he wanted to analyze why you enjoy the media you enjoy and may or may not have read some academic papers on your favorite movies. he gives you less of a hard time if it's a romance, he thinks it'll help put you in an affectionate mood. god rest your soul if it's a movie based on a book. he will be comparing and contrasting for the rest of the night. then at breakfast the next day. you'll be hearing about it for awhile. good luck.

feitan doesn't give you a definitive answer. you take his silence for a 'no', so imagine your surprise when you go to turn in for the night, there's this shadow looming over your bed wondering what you're doing. as if you shouldn't be asking him that. he found some bootleg version of the movie you mentioned, dubbed in another language, with subtitles that don't even match the audio. it doesn't matter if the movie is an hour or three hours long, he's staring at you the entire time, which makes it difficult to relax. will offer to show his favorite movies if you don't look engaged enough, an offer you do not want to take him up on.

phinks is actually kinda ecstatic. this is... normal, right? regular couple stuff! you must be coming around. he knew you'd get over the whole 'kidnapped by a murderer' thing eventually. these things take time. he tries to go all out. gets popcorn, soda, your favorite candy, stuff that makes it feel like you're in a movie theater. he burns the first two microwave popcorn bags but the third one is edible. burnt popcorn is an unfortunate smell, though. he tries to do that thing where he fake yawns so he can put an arm around your shoulder, only to burst out into a coughing fit. gets irritated if the characters do anything stupid and talks to the television screen like they can hear him. overall, it's surprisingly not an awful experience.

watching a movie with shalnark is a test in patience. he insists he'll turn it off unless you're cuddling up next to him beneath a blanket. he eats the popcorn from your hand if you're too slow in bringing it to your mouth. oddly enough, he laughs at the strangest times, like when there's a tragic character death. critiques the special effects and points out where the SFX team forgot to add a shadow for .0003 seconds. if there's not enough action, he'll fall asleep on your shoulder, and he's heavy. should you successfully manage to shrug him off, he'll get revenge by pulling his phone out and setting it at max brightness. proceeds to play candy crush on the highest volume until you give 'a sufficiently cute apology.'

[itsonlytext]

Quiet Days

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

no warnings, just some complicated feelings and overall a very queer scene >1000 words.

(if it better suits you, here's the ao3 link to this one-shot.)

Sherlock had imagined it more than he was (ever) willing to admit:

The heat of their skin blending into sighs, the tugs, the way their names would roll off of each other’s tongues and melt onto their skin, sink into their core and erupt a blinding light - so hot and demanding that they wouldn’t care about the amenities of keeping each other hidden until night, so deliciously shameless that they would proudly bask in the afternoon sunlight until the heat of their bodies were indefinitely hotter than the sun itself.

He gazed at the sight in front of him - John, (Oh God, John.) ever so content in his patterned armchair, gazing at the bright screen of his laptop with tired eyes. It was a sight he was used to seeing whenever a quiet day doomed Baker Street and the detective would leave the front steps of his mind palace and open his eyes with an arduous sigh. John would always be there, always so calm, always sitting with his laptop open, feet (slightly) stretched out, arms (sometimes) crossed over his chest. Sherlock always wondered what he was looking at, reading, watching. Whatever it was, whatever was drawing John’s eyes away from him, he hated it.

Sherlock’s ears pricked with a thought.

Experiment: Record himself working - simply working over a case in the lab at St. Bart’s hospital for exactly ninety minutes and in silence. Then, write an entire dissertation about himself - anatomical habits, childhood events and/ trauma accompanying the result of an in-depth MRI of his own brain (something to elicit interest in the doctor if it hasn’t been drawn already). When John isn’t paying attention (eating, watching Jeremy Kyle, sleeping, on an unsuccessful date), he will upload the video and dissertation onto John’s laptop. That way, no matter if John has decided he will spend his quiet day on his laptop, he will still be focused on Sherlock - still looking, reading, watching - honouring him with the attention he wants. (Needs.)

Reminder: Make sure to inform Molly that he will, at some point, require a camera and the lab.

For now, Sherlock sat quietly the way he always did on quiet days.

He was sure that he never believed in quiet days. If he did, he hated them. Or he once hated them. Over time, as he allowed the quiet to hold him down, force him to stop moving and sink deep into his bones, Sherlock realised that perhaps he could allow them to pass every now and then without sparking a fuss whenever they did.

Quiet days, Sherlock thought to himself as John shuffled in his seat, his eyes still glued to his laptop (and not the detective), how pitiful they could be.

The term was planted by Mrs Hudson, who would climb up the stairs with a knowing smile and a tray of fresh tea as she whispered, ‘it’s awfully quiet today,’ or ‘today’s going to be nice and quiet, I can tell’. It was then germinated by John, who always agreed with her as he’d gratefully pick up a biscuit from her tray and reply, ‘yes, I think so, couldn’t come sooner,’ or ‘definitely a quiet day today, Mrs Hudson’.

Sherlock somehow watered it without wanting to - he always knuckled under John, even whilst simultaneously convincing himself it was the other way around. At some point (he didn’t know when), he had also started to refer to these days as ‘quiet days’.

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

John (oh God, John).

When would he realise that he was being stared (gazed) at?

It was all Sherlock ever did on quiet days. It was all he knew to do, eventually morphing into instinct whenever quiet would bless Baker Street. He knew it was the result of conditioning, a simple failure on his part - to pair one with the other. John, quiet days. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. (Perhaps not so much a failure.)

John hadn’t noticed the staring (admiring), not even as he took a sip of Mrs Hudson’s tea or a bite from an overly sweet biscuit.

Update ongoing experiment: Now the thirty-second instance that his staring (treasuring) has gone unnoticed by John. When would he realise? Sherlock suspects in due time, perhaps when the next quiet day comes. (False hope - another seed unconsciously watered due to John.)

The detective, having barely moved since the morning, tucked that ongoing experiment in the deep confines of his mind palace - now archived, dormant, always ticking.

He went back to adoring John (oh God, John).

John - a much simpler word, much easier to accept than the existence of a quiet day. Quiet day - two extra and redundant syllables, much more difficult to knuckle under. But without having tolerated its existence or going the full ridiculous length of three syllables, Sherlock never would have discovered John, he knew that.

John (oh God, John).

He wouldn’t mind letting that syllable slip out of his mouth every now and then.

“John.”

Sherlock savoured the way his head snapped up with a hum, so quick to respond to the deep, baritone voice that called him.

He cleared his throat and shuffled. “Yeah?”

“Quiet day,” Sherlock replied plainly, his eyes gazing at the desk and wandering over the tea and food Mrs Hudson had left for them that morning.

John watched him for a moment, a gentle smile tugging his lips as he watched the detective’s deeply contemplative face and wondered what he was thinking about.

[grison-in-space]

I did a bit of de novo genome assembly way, way back in the day which I have never been able to use professionally because my PI refused to spend $2000 more on getting new read depth. He had ordered the reads before actually learning anything about the pipeline and only about half of the libraries he had ordered were usable in any given pipeline, see. (Some had been for older assembly methods and others had been for newer ones, basically.)

Rather than find the money to fucking get me the reads to do it right, he heard about an open source project called RACA that was some dude's dissertation arguing that you COULD use some of the worthless libraries to fill in the gaps of the assembly and get a functional genome out of it. I spent two years trying to move massive quantities of data through that fuckhead's pipeline on the campus supercomputer to get the assembled genome out, and then I got to the end and found there was no output as fastq files or ant other format recognizable to me.

(Give me a break, I was 23 and had also been frantically learning acoustic analysis, basic electrical engineering, and technical equipment maintenance in the two years since I had started learning to code. Plus I was figuring out what I wanted my dissertation to be. I'd never grappled with anything more complicated than our home-written library of matlab acoustic analysis before, and it simply hadn't occurred to me that anyone would publish a non-functional pipeline to achieve a goal quickly anyone verifying that anyone else had done anything yet.)

Anyway, eventually he collaborated with someone else who ponied up $2000 and a postdoc to get new reads. My name was not on the paper, so that's two years of my life developing a particular and fairly unique skill set that I will almost certainly never use.

In retrospect it's less surprising than you might think that the PhD took eight years and absolutely shattered my confidence.

And the best part is that it was just about impossible to predict at the time that shit would go quite this bad, except that some people handle power well when they're stressed and some people maintain a strong layer of cognitive dissonance over their knowledge of power such that it's never real enough to be responsible about but always real enough to win a dispute.

Anyway I think every student should have two advisors so that everyone in the department should have to immediately know about it when a PI is floundering and have a strong direct incentive to do something about it. A LOT of my problems could have been fixed with one look with a gimlet eye from a senior, more experienced researcher being not impressed at a student under their supervision running on an endless treadmill to nothing. Frankly a lot of my problems could have been solved if my mentor had formal training or literally any supervision that could deliver metrics faster than "how close am I to my previous mentees?"

I know a lot of dual advised students wind up in a tug of war between two advisors, but like: that's the point. If one of them turns out to be insane and malicious then a) the students all have clear lines to bail, b) the other ones all realize quickly that bailing out the chaos and career damage of someone who is fucking it up is way more work than resolving the problem, and c) the one with more tethers to reality has a way bigger likelihood of formally retaining the student when and if a third party has to examine the contract.

Just. It was such a fucking waste. And not because anyone necessarily wanted it to be wasteful, either, or any malice, but because I was... mm, I think the fifth PhD student in that lab and that's actually not that many to be learning on. Systems that set you up to play with decades of people's lives should have more fail-safes and places for people to learn before they get to be the sole director of someone else's career for five fucking years, not less. And yet!