#modify bus
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demoralised · 10 months ago
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V12 Volkswagen bay window bus
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rickyboii05 · 5 months ago
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Modified BV115SE
Name: The Friendly ECY Bus Lines, Inc.
Fleet: O 707 "Honey Grace" [DELUXE 2x2]
Route: Cubao - Dagupan
BV115SE & parts Credits to @janjanenrico & @wristwatchcollector-2025
Note: This artwork and model is made of fiction.
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lilsisdyke · 5 months ago
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girls should get notifs every time they make a man hard. not only will it boost their self-esteem, it will also encourage them to modify themselves depending on what gets them more notifications... 😘
imagine a dyke who sluts up her outfits every time she fights with her gf, or when she doesn't come during in a onsand she's left bitter and horny about it... just to get that rush of approval that she IS desired and wanted...
imagine her getting notifs from her male friends, teachers, coworkers, the bus driver... most of the men she crosses by end up thinking about her sexually, and it makes her question why she has it soooo hard with women, but men are apparently so easy to get excited by her. so in a night of sexual frustration, she's alone waiting for the metro when she receives a notif on her phone saying the homeless guy upstairs got a hardon thanks to her... and fuuuuck daaamn, if she's going to do something STUPID to get herself off , it better be with someone who can't speak up about it too her close circle of friends... and so she succumbs. she finds the man with his cock hard, palming it with frustration in an empty alleyway, and offers herself to him. he's not that good at sex, but he's desperate and eager and grabs at her with a kind of possessiveness that has her legs trembling, and man, she was probably just horny, but she comes so so so so so so hard on his ugly cock. the poor man asks her for a cleanup blowjob and, since she's been fucked good and has had an impressive orgasm for the first time in months, she concedes, opens up and starts sucking... it tastes horrible, yes, but there's also her leftover pussy taste, so she closes her eyes and focuses on that.
after that day, whenever she's not properly satisfied by her ons or gfs, she just goes out and waits for a notif to pop up, knowing whoever is jacking off thinking of her won't leave her unsatisfied.
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marlynnofmany · 4 months ago
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Correct in Size and Opinion
So, most intelligent species get their common names by suggesting an idea themselves when they enter polite society. There’s a whole database for making sure there are no duplicates, and minimizing confusion. Sometimes their existing name for themselves makes it in, if it’s pronounceable enough for the average intelligent being (“humans”), and there’s no easily-agreed-on description for them. But usually the common name is a descriptive word (“Heatseekers”), or even a long phrase, shortened down for casual use (“The Mesmerizing Ones” / “Mesmers”). Sometimes a nickname becomes more popular than the official name. (Nobody calls Armorlites “The Mighty” unless they have to). At any rate, an intelligent race’s common name generally tells you something about the way they see themselves.
Which made it all the funnier when I found out that the gigantic elephantlike folks I hadn’t seen in ages were officially called “Those Who Are the Correct Size.” Sizers for short. They were the biggest aliens I’d interacted with personally, and it seems they had opinions about that.
“How do you suppose that conversation went down?” I asked Mur as we walked. The raised sidewalk was impressively sturdy, and I felt confident that I could carry on a conversation while carrying the package for delivery. The fact that there was a clear wall instead of railings helped. It was a long drop to the ground.
“The diplomats probably thought it was funny,” Mur said from behind me, making quiet tentacle-step sounds. “Or these folks were pushy about it, but they always seem pretty easygoing to me.”
Sizers ambled past on the main road, behemoths in shades of sunset pink, largely ignoring the smaller citizens on the walkway at head level. None moved with any particular urgency. They probably would have noticed if someone was in stepping-on range, but thankfully the architecture had been modified to reduce that risk. Raised walkways lined every building, some leading to ramps and stairways while others had their own little doors cut into the walls.
It was all very thoughtful. I wondered how many accidents had happened before those alterations were put in.
Mur suddenly said, “Grab on!” then the walkway shuddered.
I clutched the top of the railing-wall, looking about wildly for the danger. It wasn’t hard to spot. A handful of babies — toddlers the size of a city bus — had tumbled against the side of the building. The street below us was now a riot of clumsy pink limbs and flapping orange ears, the babies squalling and whapping each other with their trunks. Those trunks came in pairs, top and bottom, and their tails were similarly grabby. These little ones didn’t know how to use any of them yet.
An adult Sizer waded in and separated the children, calming them with strokes of his own trunks and with rumbling words I couldn’t hope to interpret. But the walkway was stable now.
A giant eye focused on the pair of us, then the Sizer switched to a more recognizable language. “Look, you almost made some of the littles fall. Apologize for scaring them.”
A chorus of badly-pronounced apologies drifted up to us.
I waved a hand. “Apology accepted! No harm done.”
Mur agreed, his tone a bit forced.
The adult shooed the children away down the road, keeping them corralled between his trunks in the center of the road while they stumbled eagerly.
Mur collapsed dramatically into a squidlike puddle of relief. “I am so glad they’re leaving. What absolute menaces.”
“Ah, they can’t help it,” I said. “Cute little things. Well, relatively speaking.”
“Not the word I’d use,” Mur said, pulling himself together and getting upright.
“I know, none of them are little.”
“I mean cute! What is cute about those terrors?” he demanded, pointing with a tentacle to where they disappeared in the crowd. One of the babies was spinning its top trunk like a propeller, and another had just tripped over its own feet.
“They’re adorable,” I told him. “You saw them shuffling around looking shy and saying ‘sowwy.’”
Mur squinted up at me. “You and I have very different ideas of what should be adored. Do humans always appreciate other species’ infants?”
“Well,” I said, thinking. “Probably, yes. Somebody once explained it to me that since our own young are helpless for so long, we got evolutionarily overclocked for thinking babies are cute, just to make sure we take care of them. That might have spilled over to other things.”
“That explains a lot,” Mur said. He stepped past me to lead the way. “I remember Zhee losing a bet about whether you would pet that spiny little creature a while back.”
“It was precious once it calmed down!”
“According to you.”
“It had a cute little face, and made the most charming little noises,” I insisted.
“Even though it looked nothing like your own species, huh?”
“I can’t believe you don’t think it was cute, honestly.”
The conversation lasted until we reached our destination: a door with the word “Medicinery” written somewhat clumsily above it. When Mur pushed on the door, it swung open as easily as a cat flap.
Our walkway continued along the interior wall, giving us a good view of several adult Sizers waiting patiently in line while others moved about behind a counter. It was all similar to any number of other places I’d been, just at a much larger scale.
Since the walkway only led in one direction, we went that way: down a bit of a slope to a wider platform at the end of the counter. One Sizer saw us coming and finished talking with a customer, moving over to greet us instead of the next in line. A different receptionist called over that person instead.
“Hello!” she said, deep-voiced and cheery. “What can I do for you today?”
I lifted the box. “We have a delivery for you. Medicine, I believe.”
“Oh yes, I heard we were running low on something!” She reached out her trunks for it and I handed it over, feeling like I was faced with a pair of animated engine chutes. I’d seen Mimi working on parts of our own ship this size.
While she set the box aside, I got out the payment tablet with Mur whispering unnecessary reminders of how to set it on magnified holographic mode. This particular client had no chance of being able to sign for the delivery at our scale.
She made an elegant swooping signature in midair, then typed in her other identifying information on the holographic keyboard. “There you go! Thanks for bringing this. We don’t get too many patients your size, but it’s important that we have the proper medicine in stock for when we do. Un-expired, even!”
“Yes, that part’s important!” I agreed.
She asked, “I hope the walk over was agreeable? Everything accessible and in good repair?”
“It was fine!” I told her, folding away the holographics. “Great setup you have here.”
Mur grumbled an objection, but not loud enough for the Sizer to pick up.
“So glad to hear it,” she said to me. “It’s the least we can do to keep you little folks out of harm’s way. Wouldn’t want anyone to step on your cute little heads!”
Mur made a snorting noise while I answered diplomatically. “Our cute little heads appreciate it.”
She flapped her ears and waved a trunk in body language that might have suggested she was embarrassed about her own choice of phrasing.
Mur spoke up. “I have a quick question, if you don’t mind.”
I raised an eyebrow while the Sizer encouraged him to ask his question.
“We were having a conversation on the way here about the respective adorableness of other species,” Mur said, flipping a tentacle between the two of us. “Is there a general opinion among Sizers about small folks being cute?”
She definitely looked embarrassed now, waving her trunk and glancing away like an elderly aunt who’d said something improper. “Oh, well, some definitely are if you ask me, but I can hardly speak for everyone. Some, yes! With your cute little heads and tiny eyes. Absolutely precious.”
She was looking at me. Mur’s head was shaped like a squid; hardly little.
“Anyways!” she said, standing up straighter. “That hardly factors into making sure everyone has a safe route through town, without a danger of getting stepped on. I’m very glad you found the walkways acceptable. Thank you again for the delivery!”
“It was our pleasure,” I said.
Mur added, “Have a nice day!” but she was already moving on to the next Sizer in line.
I met Mur’s eye, holding in a snicker, and headed for the door. I made it outside before collapsing into laughter.
“See, it’s not just humans!” I exclaimed. “She thinks we’re cute!”
“I can’t believe it,” Mur said. “She really does. And the others probably do too.”
I pointed a finger at him, still laughing. “And she doesn’t think you’re cute!”
Mur folded half of his tentacles, standing tall on the other ones. “That’s up for debate.”
“We have to tell Zhee. He’ll think this is hilarious.”
Mur agreed, “He really will. Pity he didn’t come today. I wonder if the Sizers would think he looks like an adorable little youngling too.”
“Probably not, if I had to guess.” I started the long walk back to our ship. “My species isn’t historically charmed by exoskeletons, and theirs may not be either. But who knows? We can always call them up and ask.”
“I am absolutely not doing that.”
“Yeah, me neither. But it would be funny.”
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
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starkissedbaby · 3 months ago
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LIES - M.F.
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pairings meg/reader | friendswbenefits!lau | "__"= Y/N
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sypnosis you’ve always liked megumi, but quickly learned that the only way you were going to be with him is if you gave your body in return. Or at least, that’s what you’ve presumed, until you end things with him for good.
word count 5.4k
warnings closed off meg, mommy!issues, pining, angst, heartbreak, depressing asf, nasty smut at the end, heavy tension, toxic! megumi, daddy kink!
a/n this is rlly long sry
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© starkissedbaby 2025. do not repost, modify, or translate.
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      Megumi audibly clears his throat, his broad back facing you as you pulled on your sweater. "I have a lot of work to do so," he hints that he wanted you to leave. Your heart felt as if someone had gripped it and squeezed tightly before letting it fall into the pit of your stomach. "You drove here didn't you?"
"Uh..yeah," you lied, knowing damn well you took the bus. Tying on your shoes, you lift off the messy and crumpled up sheets from the activities you two had just finished, skin still sweaty and slick. "See you around then, I guess."
You don't see him nod as you hurry out his room, tears glistening in your eyes before making sure to shut the house to his front door apartment. For some stupid reason, you thought you could muster up the courage to ask him for a ride, or to let you spend the night. After all, the two of you had been  hooking up for an entire year already, so you figured he'd have warmed up by now.
But no, Megumi had remained the same. Non-chalant and dry. The most he speaks to you is when he's teasing you while his cock drilled inside you, saying how adorable you looked being all filled up just for him. But it was only due to the heat of the moment; Megumi didn't actually mean it.
And always after, he would either ignore you, or give you hints that he wanted to be alone. As if nothing happened.
     You were an idiot to think that would change, because now, you had to walk all the way back to your place, since you had taken the last bus here. You were sick of letting him use your body, taking advantage of the fact you had practically been in love with him since you were a first year. And now, you were both graduated, full on grown adults, who were both lonely when it came to their sex life.
The night winds were bitter and unforgiving. It took you about almost two hours to walk all the way back home. And to make things worse, you ended up getting a sore throat along with a plugged nose from being outside without much warmth.
"Hello?" You hold the phone to your ear, sounding like a completely different person due to your plugged nose altering your voice.
"I'd like to speak to _ _," Megumi mutters into the phone, making you almost let out a giggle. "Who is this?"
"This is _ _," you correct him, placing a hand on your hip. "You don't recognize my voice?"
There was a brief pause before his voice is heard.
"You sound different....are you sick?" You don't detect worry in his voice, just irritation.
"I'd rather you not come over tonight then. See you when you get better." The phone clicks.
Blinking in shock, you look down at the phone, realizing he truly did not give a single fuck about you. Scoffing, you put the phone down, and wonder why you even slept with him in the first place. You knew he was attracted to you since he always tossed full bodied glances with suggestive undertones towards you. Megumi had been a pretty straight-forward guy, who knows what he wants, and usually gets that thing or person.
But you were done letting him have you. This was the last straw.
And so you began to ignore his texts.
Megumi
hey you up?
sent at 2:08 am
delivered
you feeling better?
sent at 2:10 am
delivered
lmk.
sent at 2:13 am
delivered
The final message was sent a few days ago. Since the, radio silence had been blasted on both ends. You decided to focus on your school work and hanging out with friends, which should have been your main priorities anyways. Since you two started sleeping together, though, you sorta just locked yourself in your apartment until Megumi asked you to come over, isolating yourself from your loved ones.
But now, you were going to branch out, and live a life without the spikey raven haired man interfering every few nights—during the hours where no soul could witness the nasty things you two have done.
Growing up with Megumi living in the foster home down the street, you always noticed he was quiet and extremely reserved. But when someone had a problem with him, he made sure to stand his ground, and even sometimes beat up the street kids that would steal from the ones at the foster home. He was always tough, with an icy exterior that matched his eyes, that appeared frozen in time.
You were only twelve when you began to crush on the troubled boy. And until a year ago, he never noticed you.
It was after your nineteenth birthday. You had been walking home after having dinner with your family, when you spotted Megumi Fushiguro moving into his new apartment—which had been coincidentally right across the street from yours. You recognized the beautiful boy you had noticed walk home from school every single day. He still had the same spikey hair cut, but his shoulders were far wider than before, chest doubled in size with a much more brawny appearance.
And for the very first time, his eyes locked with yours.
Like you said, when Megumi wanted something, he usually went for it. You walk over to him, hands shaking at your sides, and he watches you cross the street light, purple sun dress blowing in the breeze. It was as if a permanent frown had been etched onto his face; lips pressed together firmly. Intimidated, you squirm under his gaze. "Hi, I...it looks like you're my neighbor."
His stormy hues do a slow sweep of your body before his brow raises. "Megumi Fushiguro."
Until now, you hadn't known his name. And it suited him perfectly.
"I'm _ _ _ _," you offer a small smile, which made his eyes flicker. "You need any help moving in? I can help with a few boxes if you'd like." You had decided it was better not to mention that you've seen and watched him like a stalker for the past seven years.
     Once you followed him into his apartment, the smell of freshly coated painted walls making you a bit dizzy, you follow Megumi into his room and placed the boxes down. The next thing you knew, his hands were on your ass while you were still bent over, lips brushing against your ear. "Would you like to stay a bit longer?"
But that was the last. Everything was going fine.
Sure, you were depressed, but you could deal with it yourself. You didn’t need him.
Until you had a bad day.
Now..you needed him now.
Your job had been demanding for your manuscript, and when you still couldn't deliver, they threatened to give your position to a recent new hire named Yachi. And well, you wouldn't even blame them, since you were so insolent and nascent minded.
No number of cigarettes could make you feel better like Megumi could, even if it only lasted for an hour. It was better than not getting him at all. You were like an addict, not really feeling too keen on walking, so you went ahead and took your car this time. Within a few short minutes, the familiar complex of where he lived pops into view.
     You knock on his front door, hands slightly trembling at their sides. And when the door swings open, a girl with pretty blue eyes and dark red hair flutters her thick lashes at you, hair messy and cheeks flushed. "Dammit I said I got it-" you hear his familiar voice growl out before he stands before you.
His eyes had been dark as usual, hair looking as if it had been tugged by the girl who was much smaller than him. You couldn't help but notice how she looked nothing like you. "_ _," he says with slightly widened eyes, his jaw tightening. "What are you doing here? I thought-"
This could not have been happening.
"I shouldn't have come," you shake your head, forcing out a laugh so that you didn't cry in front of him. His eyes flash but he remains still and doesn't reach for you. "Bye, Megumi."
And then you turn around, walking away, deleting his number off your phone as you went down the steps towards your car. It was clear you were only ever a form of release to him. You were replaceable. He slept with you because you were easy, and you let him because you genuinely liked him and thought he’d change.
You realize how foolish you’d been.
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     You don't realize you're in love with someone until they hurt you.
It felt as if your heart had been connected by strings, and Megumi Fushiguro had been the one controlling them. You loathed each day that passed, knowing that he had continued his life, and ironically paused yours. It felt as if the world had stopped rotating, grieving who you once were. You were someone that loved him for years, from a distance, then in his bed, then back to being nothing but a stranger to him.
You were gutted from the inside and out. Empty and hollow inside. You two clarified that you both had only been sleeping with one another, but that didn't mean you were irreplaceable either.
Ice cream and your favorite television series. That is what helped you as you wallowed for days in your room. You were sure it had been at least a week, calling out of work and saying you had some contagious flu. You couldn't write your manuscript, couldn't get Megumi to care for you, couldn't get anything right.
      You were at rock bottom.
In the series, one of the characters slurps up a ramen, causing you to crave the food. So you pull on an oversized hoodie that had the least amount of stains, grab your keys, and drive to the nearest gas station. The clerk had been asleep, snoring on the counter, who was an old balding man. Your arrival wakes him up, "Welcome in!"
"Thank you," you say quietly before heading straight for the ramen section. Your slippers scuff against the floor as you rounded the corner and entered the aisle.
No fucking way.
Of fucking course.
Megumi fucking Fushiguro was standing at the end, right next to your favorite ramen, examining the ingredients to a tea box. Wearing a dark blue long sleeve and black sweats. He had been working out, because you memorized every part of his body, and knew that he wasn’t this big before.
Your hair was oily, deep bags growing under your eyes, face all gaunt from lack of eating. Standing up like this, feeling all this adrenaline, was really starting to get to you. Feeling a bit lightheaded, you decided to just turn around and go somewhere else. As soon as your back is facing him, you hear his gruff voice say your name.
“_ _?”
It was like time had stopped. You were pathetic. Turning around with wide eyes, the frown on his face deepens as he assesses you. “You look different,” he comments while tilting his head. “Are you on a diet? You’ve lost some weight.”
In contrast to his words, he himself looked great. As usual.
You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He had no idea the effect his actions had on you. How devoted you were to him, mind and soul. How heartbroken you were over him. Megumi wasn’t as intelligent as you thought.
Or he simply knew, and just didn’t care.
Anger has boiled your veins as you believed the latter. He had to have known your lingering looks on him, or how you rushed over to him whenever he needed you. Or well—needed your body. It was as if he had been mocking you, for needing him to function, and doing his every bid to make him feel cared for.
“We’re not friends, Fushiguro. So don’t pretend we are.” Your voice was calm as you made sure to look into his eyes. He blinks in response as you turn around and storm out the store, a tear rolling down your cheek.
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The cigarette between your fingertips had been almost fully burnt off. You were sick of trapping yourself in the apartment over someone who couldn't give a rats ass about you. However, the nights were becoming shorter. You stopped waking up in the middle of them, reaching for your phone out of habit, and looking for a number that didn't exist anymore since you had deleted it.
But now, you just felt used. Megumi knew for a fact that you were barely clinging onto your sanity. You didn't even know he had this much of an effect on you, but apparently he did.
"You look like death," Itadori, your best friend, lets you know with a twisted face. "Seriously, _ _, why are you killing your self over some guy?
Smacking him upside the head, he rubs the spot before grumbling. "If you want me to help you dye your hair still then shut up, Dori," you hiss through gritted teeth before taking another hit. "-and he wasn't just some guy okay? He isn't like other guys and that's why it hurts."
       His light brown eyes study you as your eyes water. "I don't even know why I'm crying-" you furiously wipe at your eyes. "He just isn't like anyone else. Seven years, Dori. Seven years I've wanted him, and then when I was finally successful, I let him slip from my fingers. Have you ever wanted someone so bad..that you felt like you were going to die without being with them? That you constantly worried about dying because you knew you'd never see them again?"
He's wearing an empathetic gaze, but was also uncomfortable, "Sorry-I dunno what to do in these types of situa-"
"Just Pat my back dammit!" You sob into your hands, your hormones probably out of control because of your period. He listens and begins full on punching your back with closed fights, making leading you to wince and smack him due to the shooting pain now shooting up your spine. "I said pat...not break, idiot!"
"It's not my fault you're all skin and bones," he defends with his hands up, stumbling on his words. "Why don't we just go get some food? That always makes me feel better. And if you want-you can talk about it some more. But I do charge per hour—"
Itadori is wearing a lopsided smile as you strike his arm, "You're so abusive!"
"Pretty sure animal abuse is okay in this case."
"Take that back," he scowls as you both begin walking towards the ramen shop down the street. You let out a small laugh, cheeks trying, as he pulls out some skittles from his green hoodie pocket. "Why're you eating that when we're about to go eat?"
He throws one in his mouth, smacking and chewing it obnoxiously as your eyes roll. "It boosts your metabolism to snack on things throughout the day. I saw it in a Whole Foods commercial one time." His tone is confident as you both walk down the hill, passing by small shops and stores. All the lampposts had been turned on due to the late hour, but there had been lots of people out.
       "I think the hair dye it getting to your brain," you tease with a smirk.
His mouth set in a hard line before he smacks you on the arm this time, a dull pain residing on the area. "Weren't you just crying over-Hey is it just me or is that guy like glaring at me.” He points to behinds you near the entrance of the ramen place. Megumi had been leaning against the brick wall, cigarettes between his lips, talking to some tall guy with platinum blonde strands who wore black shades. And beside them two, was a pretty girl with short brown copper colored hair, who looked at you with a raised brow.
And Itadori was right. Megumi had one hand shoved into his pocket, wearing a rigid and hardened expression, smoke exhaling through his nose. The look made your stomach swirl, a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time from him.
“That’s Megumi.”
Itadori’s eyes bulge, “That’s him? Shit-now I see why you’re so hung up on him. He really doesn’t look like other guys,” he places his hands on his hips, nodding approvingly. “He’s a good looking guy. Nice physique too.”
“Yeah well, he’s also an asshole,” you snatch him by the collar before shoving him. “You’re supposed to make me feel better-not worse! Now c’mon.” Your best friend almost trips as you drag him by his ear into the Ramen shop, him letting out whines and shouts.
The hostess sends you both a concerned look, a short cute girl wearing a high bun and a black uniform. Letting go of him, you both smile in unison, masking fake polite voices.
“For two please!”
Itadori slides into a booth across from you, eagerly picking up the menu as his eyes sweep across it. You tapped your leg beneath the table, not paying attention to the food on the paper in your hands. The bell dings signaling a new party, your eyes dismissively glancing at the door.
"Are you serious?"
Itadori doesn't look up as he hums, "I know right. I can't believe their takoyaki balls are so cheap!"
You make eye contact with Megumi as his blonde friend flirts with the hostess, who is blushing as she guides them to their table. And just to your fucking luck, she sits at the one right beside you two, to probably make it easier for the server since you were both the only tables in there. He continues to stare as you kick Itadori beneath the table, "He's right there," you hiss. "We have to go."
His forehead creases with wrinkles, "But I'm hungry," he whines, earning an irritated look from you.
"Wasn't this supposed to make me feel better?" You spat as the waiter walks up with two waters, introducing themselves, then taking your orders. Itadori ends up ordering the pork shoyu, and with a pissed expression, you just order the same before he collects your menus and leaves. "So it looks like we're staying," he folds his arms with a smirk. "You should stop running from him and just face the fact that you're gonna run into him sometimes, _ _."
For the entire time, Megumi's fierce eyes kept meeting yours. The blonde man and the girl kept bickering as he quietly ate his ramen, only looking up when he wanted to look at you again. You hardly touched your shoyu as Itadori downs his eight takoyaki balls and slurps down his ramen in one swig. By the time he finished, you were zoned out, staring at your legs as you wished this night would just end. "You didn't eat your food."
"He keeps looking at me," you sigh, swirling the straw in your water. "I can't function when he's looking at me. Ugh—I hate my body."
Itadori wipes his face with a napkin, "haven't you stopped to wonder why he keeps looking at you?" When you blinks at him, he continues with an eye-roll. "He's still interested in you, dummy. Guys don't just look at girls they're over. You should talk to him."
That was a horrible idea. If you spoke to him, then all the feelings would come crashing back, and you couldn't have that. "I can't talk to him."
"Why not?"
"It's too hard-and I'm not strong enough." You stand up, shaking your head. "I'm going to the bathroom."
Itadori sighs and leans back in his seat as he watches you leave. You follow the restroom sign and open a door, which led to a narrow hallway with the bathroom at the end. After you finish doing your business, you splash water on your face, and leave the tiny room.
Megumi is leaning against the wall once again, picking up his head when he hears the door shut. You were both in the hallway alone, which scared you even more. "We need to talk," he declares with a set tone. "Well-I have a few things to say and I was hoping you'd listen."
Holding your arms, you only continue to sent him a dirty look as he rubs the back of his neck. "Look..I know I'm not a good guy. I never treated you the way you deserved and I understand that. I hated you-and it wasn't your fault."
You swallow thickly, "Hated me? Is that what you wanted to-“
"Just shut up and let me finish," he growls out, cutting you off. He collects himself before continuing, "I hated you for how you made me feel. You were kind and genuine to me, even when I didn't deserve it. You made me feel like someone cared-“
“Because I did!” You seethe out, losing your patience. “I cared about you so much, Megumi. And you knew that. And you’re right, I don’t deserve how you treat me. It took me weeks to leave my bed because of you. Because of the idea-that you laid with someone else that quickly just didn’t make any damned sense to me.”
“We weren’t exclusive,” he reminds roughly. “You’re hope and the way you take care of me-I couldn’t deal with it anymore.”
You glare at him.
“I hate you, Fushiguro.”
“No you don’t,” he steps forward, pinning you against the grimy wall. “You don’t hate me, _ _. You just told me you liked me.”
The smell of mint and pine. It intoxicated you.
No.
No.
“Liked,” you shove him, tears glistening your eyes. His face straightens as he watches you fall apart. “I liked you. And now—“ you let out a strained laugh, shaking your head at him.
“I can’t even look at you.”
His eyes were narrowed as your fists balled at their sides. You memorize his face one last more before turning around and walking back into the main room of the restaurant, past Itadori’s table, the pink haired boy running after you as you stormed out the shop.
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Someone was knocking on your door.
You rub your eyes, swinging open the door to your apartment to find the tall blonde guy, Megumi's friend, holding the midnight haired boy's arm over his shoulder, his sunglasses ditched revealing a pair of vibrant cerulean shades hues.
"Hi, I'm Gojo," he offers you his free hand with a charming smile. You shake it with a confused look as he gestures to Megumi, whose eyes were heavy-lidded as if he was on something. "I would say it's lovely to meet you-buttttt this kid is being a pain in the ass at the moment and kinda it's your fault."
This friend of his had some nerve. He wanted to dump the man who broke your heart onto your front door step, and was sassing you in the process? Blinking, unamused, the man then waltzes into your apartment before tossing his friend onto the couch. "Hey-you both need to
leave now."
"Look," Gojo says and points at Megumi groaning, who attempts to sit up, but then falls back down onto the cushions. "That man is the saddest excuse of a person I've ever seen at this moment. And I can't watch him any longer, not when I've got things to do and places to be. And by that, I mean in my own home..sleeping."
Before you could get a word in, he nods, and walks towards the door. "It was a pleasure to meet you. Lovely home by the way," he smiles wolfishly and shuts the door behind him.
      How the hell were you supposed to get over someone that was sprawled out all over your coach?
Sitting at the edge of the cushion, you look at his fluttered shut eyes, mouth slightly ajar. He looked so angelic when he wasn't wearing that horrid frown he always rocked.
His fingers twitch, before his eyes snap open. You blink as he stares for a moment, before lurching forward and wrapping his string arms around your waist, and pulling your head onto his chest. A gasp escapes you as his fingers smooth down your hair, eyes shutting again, at the feeling of holding you.
The dam broke.
All the feelings came crashing back in.
The world began to rotate again.
Megumi was...holding you in his arms.
God, you missed his warmth so much. He smelled like that one cologne you loved, his hand pushing the back of your head further into his chest. The feeling was nostalgic and comforting. You had craved this-for weeks.
You wondered what had been going through his mind, but when you heard his soft snores, you knew he had passed out. Examining his features, you never noticed how fair he truly was, skin similar to a sheet of paper. And his lashes, they were so thick and dark.
Your own eyelids grew heavy, falling asleep in his arms.
When you had awoken, Megumi was gone, almost as if he had never been there. Which didn't shock you. You always took care of him, but he never thanked you. It was expected but never appreciated.
You felt empty.
Standing to your feet, you go to the freezer and pull out chocolate ice cream, staring at the counter and wondering why the hell this process was so damn painful. Picking at the sweet frozen dessert, you slump over the counter, already missing the way you felt as Megumi held you close to him.
Footsteps pad into the kitchen, "You're eating ice cream for breakfast?"
A wave of shock and confusion paralyzes you as he opens the fridge and pulls out the orange juice. "Sorry about last night. I drank way too much and just finished throwing it all up," he rasps as you watch him pour the liquid into a mug he pulled out the cupboard. "How did you sleep?" He questions while bringing the cup to his lips and sips it as if he lived here and this was a normal routine.
Completely forgetting about the ice cream, sit there and stare at him in disbelief.
Megumi draws his brows together, "What?"
"I thought you left."
His jaw tightened, "Well-I could have. But I didn't." He says quietly before looking away and continuing to sip his juice.
"I don't understand."
"Dammit _ _," he slams the cup down onto the counter and splashes it over the counter, but his sharp eyes stay focused on mine. "I'm trying to do something different. I'm trying to show you that-I'm sorry. That I want to..change for you." His words were a slap to the face as Megumi runs a hand through his hair. "I thought of you when I slept with her _ _. She didn’t make me feel like you do-because they don't compare to you. No one compares to you."
He looked wrecked. Eyes dimmed from his hungover, lips tense and curled. "I noticed you all those years ago," He adds on, making your breathing halt. "I know you never mentioned it because you probably thought I never noticed you-but I did. I liked you for so long..but was too scared to ever talk to you. Kinda like now." He chuckles wryly, stepping forward. "I have issues-when it comes to loving someone-because no one's ever loved me before. Not like you."
He's standing a few feet away from.
"Say something _ _."
Your eyes had been clouded in a haze.
He liked you too.
He noticed you.
It was never one sided.
"You like me-don't you?" You ask in a hushed tone.
Megumi's features tighten as he nods slowly.
You reach forward, grabbing his face, and collide your lips with his. He breathes in sharply at your taste. "Show me then," you plead out as you fumble with his hoodie whilst he slid his hands beneath your sweater to roam them around freely,
"Show me how much you missed me, Meg."
And he does.
It took a moment for Megumi to take initiative, but when he heard those words, something snapped within him. Your sweater had been torn from your body, leading you to gasp, but the man towering over you swallows it before doing the same to your bra. “Fuck-“ he curses as you deepen the kiss, fighting your tongue with his warm one.
“Yes!” You moan out as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, a fining sensation flooding your heat from the action. Your hands weave into his strands as you push his head, “Need you-Meg. Please-“
“It looked you missed me,” his words are muffled by the flesh of your tit as he pinches the other one, making your back arch. And then he’s kissing you messily again, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” his fingers roam the waistband of your sweats. “Want me to taste this delicious cunny?”
Fuck-you really did. But at the moment, you wanted him to hold you, to fuck you raw until you couldn’t walk. So to answer him, you palm the thick boner beneath his sweats. “Need you inside,” you gasp out, looking into his eyes.
His pupils were blown as you push him towards the counter, hurrying out of your own pants. Megumi takes the hint and chuckles, “What? You want to ride me, precious? Is that it?”
“Yes,” you nod, your mind cloudy from pleasure. “Want to make you feel good Meg.”
His smirk widens, “Then go ahead,” he pulls down his own pants, revealing his thick cock springing up, mushroom shapes rip shaded a scarlet red. And then he’s laying on the counter. You practically rush over and climb on top of him, hands pressed against his clothed chest. “Go on pretty girl,” he reassures, strong hands firmly holding your hips. “Sink down on Daddy’s cock.”
He was looking up at you with heavy-lidded blissed out eyes. You felt so powerful, to have him waiting for you, being submissive. With a determined look, you grab his cock, his familiar heaviness sending another wave of arousal down to your cunt, ad place the tip at your soaking folds. You’re scared he’s going to hurt, since it’s been a while, and contemplate on doing a different positi-
“I. Said. Sink.” He growls out behind gritted teeth before listing his hips and shoving his entire length into your pussy. “There we gooo,” he hums, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt, body turning into jelly on top of him as he ruts into you at a bruising pace.
He was never going to let you be in control. Megumi was not that kind of guy.
Cries and whines garbled together flee from your trembling lips as his hands land on your ass, hungrily fucking you as if it was his dying mission. “Feel so fucking good-“ Megumi groans into your ear, his cologne flooding your senses as your face is shoved into his chest with his one hand, the other on your hip to force you to sink on his cock with every thrust.
“Fuckin’ love you-“
Your confession causes him to lift your head and smash his lips against yours in hot open mouthed kisses. “Cum for me baby,” he angles his hips to hit that one spot that makes you see stars. “Show me that cute little face you make-there it is.”
Scrunching your features, you let out a high pitched moan that Megumi swallows, as your pussy clenches and contracts around his cock as your high overtakes you. And then he’s finishing with you, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you roll your hips, wanting to milk everything he had to offer.
When you’re both panting and breathless, you aim to get off him, but his hands glue to your hips. “Stay on,” he says quietly-looking up at you with his hair in his eyes. “Come here,” he wraps your arms around your waist and pulls you in, hugging you whilst his cock staid inside.
He-was holding you.
Brushing your hairs away from your face, Megumi then traces your features with his forefinger.
“I…think I love you too.”
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ablobwhowrites · 5 months ago
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Hello, I've been a fan of your yandere ramblings, especially the sonic ones since no one does those really on this.
So I came with my own little ramblings for a human y/n that gets sucked into mobias (basically a reverse sonic X)
First of all, y/n is always staying at someone's house in a rotation (from cream and vanilla to tails to Amy, etc), and isn't allowed to sleep on their own without some mobian cuddling them.
Also y/n pulls a generations and meets different eras of the sonic cast, first meeting classic sonic, tails, knuckles, Amy, robotnik and metal sonic. And robotnik just being intrigued by this other human, and has metal kidnap them (who grows obsessed, yandere robot go brr).
And after a lot of classic obsession and shenanigans, y/n is transported to the mid modern era (sonic adventure and advanced series), and meets new characters like cream, big and chaos.
Cream is the only normal one (still is clingy), and tails is slightly more obsessive (still normal tho), and chaos just plays hot potato of constantly nabbing y/n during adventure 1.
Then onto generations itself and the time monster decides to also nab y/n because Eggman told them to (definitely not because it finds this human adorable).
Also fleetway sonic and scourge being the clingiest and jealous hedgehogs ever.
Omega also likes to just hold y/n randomly, like he does with cream and cheese in the comics
(tails and cream and chao's are strictly platonic yanderes for any yandere sonic stuff I do and may add to the platonic only if needed)
I do imagine they have their are scared as all hell but for classic sonic I do imagine he is shorter kinda how it is in other modern games and just imagining y/n in changing styles everytime they are put into a new sonic generation just to fit into the era. And is the classic era kinda wearing something like eggmans fit but modified to be their own and kinda fitting the hero style but they do try to take their gloves off but it's a struggle. And just imagining classic knuckles keeping y/n near the master emerald as that way he can protect two things at once. Tails is kinda like a that little brother who always wants to show you stuff even if your already doing something. Like tails will come to y/n and holds up his newest invention and y/n is like "oh cool. But tails I'm really busy right now t-" and tails is like "hold on let me show you want it does" and ends up destroying the only portal way home for y/n.
I do imagine just y/n at classic Amy's place and is just like "I wonder if I can make a run for it to see what would happen." But mostly just waiting for the right moment to run like when classic eggman and sonic were fighting and ended up tripping into a open portal somehow and now are in the mid modern era and I like to think their outfits changes to corespondents with the sonic era they are in. And imagining with some cross over games may or may not become obsessed with y/n like the sonic characters are and it's hell for y/n cause like bro has to deal with this now.
Plus imagining omega just being a kinda bodyguard for y/n is nice. They don't know omega is obsessed to buy keeps it more professional and so is shadow because he grows more insistent that he go everywhere with y/n to keep them safe even if not endanger, he still goes just to be sure nothing happens and then rouge is like "oh the master emerald and y/n! What a package deal!" and steals both but if she cannot get the emerald, she goes for the better option and y/n having to cling into rouge because like they do not wanna fall from how high she flys cause like bro you wouldn't be scared just looking down to see how far from the ground you are from?
Plus imagining y/n having a bunch of chao's walking behind y/n like ducklings because I say so and y/n wanting to take one because it decided to sleep on y/n's lap but they can't take them out of the chao garden. I love chao's they are so silly.
Also metal sonic after he sees y/n standing minding their own business:
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Metal sonic and y/n are bascially that scene with miles running away and Miguel chasing him. And imagining that metal sonic dragging y/n back to eggmans base by the ankle because like I know if metal sonic held hands with y/n, he ain't never letting go of y/n's hand
(that's it's for my yapping for rn, but anyways if you guys like this y/n or idea please don't feel shy and request your ideas or y/n ideas. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)
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loveotus · 1 month ago
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꒰ ❀ ꒱ — caleb — masterlist
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it’s been years since you and caleb have seen each other. you used to have daydreams of meeting him again— maybe bumping into him on the street, or catching sight of him on a bus. but never, ever in any of those dreams did you ever imagine seeing him again in a restaurant of all places. as your waiter— while you’re on a date!
“hi, name.” caleb smiles, unable to hide his joy. he saw you walk in— and there are truly no words that can describe how he feels right now. sure, he’s happy to see you— so happy. but the creature beside you surely ruins the mood. “are you on a date?“ he’d muse, tilting his head.
“uh… yeah. caleb, meet, um..” you trail off, your tone unsure. this is so awkward— the one moment you decide it’s finally time to just move on and find someone other than caleb to love… he appears!
“nevermind him. what would you like to order?” caleb says, leaning down slightly. and for the rest of the evening; things like that tend to happen. caleb doesn’t focus on that thing you’re on a date with— he serves you.
and by the end of your long, rather awkward date— you notice caleb writing something on the receipt. you get no time to read what it says before your date grabs it and crumples it up.
but you never see that man again.
on the bright side, at least you’ve had more opportunities to reconnect with caleb… right?
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loveotus - ʚɞ - do not plagiarise, modify, or feed to ai
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phoenixyfriend · 7 months ago
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Concept: Santa has a memory-modifying machine and that's why parents are never suspicious of the extra presents under the tree.
[I may or may not write this as a proper story some day but in case I don't, have a look]
They all just have an implanted memory of buying it themselves. For people who are in poverty and struggling, this means that Santa does have to limit himself to 'realistic' gifts, but if a kid would be happy with a really cool puzzle or some candy they're not usually able to get, it's easy to frame that in the memory as "Oh yeah, I think I saw that they were giving away bags of this chocolate for any purchase over $20, so I grabbed an extra can of beans" or something.
If a kid's been really good, he can add some sort of "Parents entered a giveaway" memory for a bigger present, but too many of those might arouse suspicion.
Also possible is localized charities that get a lot of "anonymous" gifts that are actually from Santa.
And the volunteers that 'decide' which gift goes where are undercover elves who are making sure the presents end up with the kids who really want them.
@threebea said:
The rule with Santa is if an "adult" is aware of the magic he loses his power which is why he needs to go to lengths to make himself seem like a hybrid of commercialization and religion. He will definitely do other things if he has no justifiable way of getting something to a kid who doesn't get presents from their parents for whatever reason. Can range from extra luck like vending machine gave doubles or bus actually waited. He will reward goodness of children it might not be as much as he would like but he does what he can to continue being able to do it. He can't go as hard as he would like because too big and even memory modification won't be enough but he will try to get away with big stuff.
This kid was so good that he is rigging an xbox giveaway for them.
There's an elf that has to be like: No no, that's too big. Santa: I can spin it I can spin it. Santa also has a heist team to do the rigging of big ticket items. Sometimes they'll just set up a fake contest but sometimes they're like: This is our window, operation BMX is a go. Elf: There are not enough contests in this small town to justify this, Santa. You need to make a choice. Santa: Rich guy who wants to do Christmas miracle for children? Elf: You get one a year you wanna use that card? Santa: [narrows eyes] …. Two but in different countries Elf: This is not a negotiation. Santa: I feel like it is.
Exhausted second in command trying to keep Santa within the realm of reason but this jolly old man wants to be doing good so much.
Vigilante-ism
Vigisanty-ism Santa: We could haunt Jeff Bezos we haven't done that in awhile. Elf: No one will ever believe it don't be greedy.
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commodorez · 11 months ago
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Cactus fascinates me, does it run on code similar to an existing instruction set or is it completely original on that front?
What can you do with it? What's it's storage?
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Both the Cactus (the original wooden prototype from years ago) and the new PCB Cactus(es) are essentially derived from a minimal 6502 computer design by Grant Searle for their core logic. Here's what that would look like on a breadboard:
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There isn't much to it, it's 32K of RAM, 16K of ROM containing Ohio Scientific's version of Microsoft BASIC, a 6850 ACIA for serial interaction, some logic gates, and of course a 6502 microprocessor (NMOS or CMOS, doesn't matter which). You hook it into a terminal and away you go.
Grant's design in turn can be best described as a distilled, modernized version of the OSI Challenger series of computers. Here's an OSI-400 and a Challenger 4P respectively:
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The left one is a replica of the 400 circa 1976, also called the Superboard. It was affordable, endlessly reconfigurable and hackable, but ultimately very limited in capabilities. No BASIC, minimal monitor ROM you talk to over serial, but you could connect it to a bus to augment its features and turn it into a more powerful computer.
Whereas the OSI C4P on the right from about 1979 has more RAM, a video card, keyboard, BASIC built in, serial interface, cassette tape storage, and that's just the standard configuration. There was more room to expand and augment it to your needs inside the chassis (alot changed in 3 years for home computer users).
Grant's minimal 6502 design running OSI BASIC is a good starter project for hobbyists. I learned about the 6502's memory map decoding from his design. I modified and implemented his design on a separate cards that could connect to a larger backplane.
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Here are the serial, ROM, RAM, and CPU cards respectively:
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Each one is 100% custom, containing many modifications and fixes as I developed the design. However, that's only half of the computer.
I really wanted a 6502 machine with a front panel. People told me "nobody did that", or couldn't think of examples from the 1970s but that seemed really strange to me. Especially since I had evidence to the contrary in the form of the OSI-300:
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This one I saw at VCF West back in 2018 illustrates just how limited of a design it is. 128 bytes of RAM, no ROM, no serial -- just you, the CPU, and toggle switches and LEDs to learn the CPU. I was inspired the first time I saw one in 2015 at VCF East, which is probably when this whole project got set in motion.
Later that year I bought a kit for a miniature replica OSI-300 made by Christopher Bachman, and learned really quickly how limited the design philosophy for this particular front panel was. It was a major pain in the ass to use (to be clear, that's by OSI's choice, not any fault of Christopher in his implementation)
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So... I designed my own. Took awhile, but that's the core of what the Cactus is: my attempt at experiencing the 1970s homebrew scene by building the computer I would have wanted at the time. Over half of the logic in the Cactus is just to run the front panel's state machine, so you can examine and modify the contents of memory without bothering the 6502. I added in all of the things I liked from more advanced front panels I had encountered, and designed it to my liking.
Here's the original front panel, accompanying logic, and backplane connected to the modern single board computer (SBC) version of the machine:
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And here's the new Cactus SBC working with the new front panel PCB, which combines the logic, physical switch mountings, and cabling harnesses into a single printed circuit board.
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So, what can you do with it? Pretty much the same things I do already with other contemporary 1970s computers: play around in BASIC, fire up the occasional game, and tinker with it.
I've got no permanent storage designed for the Cactus as yet, it's been one of those "eventually" things. The good news is that a variety of software can be ported to the hardware without too much trouble for an experienced hobbyist. A friend of mine wrote a game called ZNEK in 6502 assembly which runs from a terminal:
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Right now, you have to either toggle in machine programs from the front panel from scratch, burn a custom ROM, or connect it to a serial terminal to gain access to its more advanced features:
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Here's it booted into OSI BASIC, but I have also added in a modern descendant of Steve Wozniak's WOZMON software for when I need to do lower level debugging.
I've also got a video card now, based on the OSI-440. I have yet to implement a keyboard, or modify BASIC to use the video board instead of the serial connection. Even if I did, screen resolution is pretty limited at 24x24 characters on screen at once. Still, I'm working on that...
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Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Check the tags below to see the whole process stretching back to 2017 if you're curious to learn more of the project's history. I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have about the project.
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simpingforbots · 1 month ago
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Pretty car
Having a car in this economy is considered more of a luxury then a necessity now - with how expensive it is to purchase alone quickly changed your mind on acquiring one. Not that you lived in poverty as you had enough money to pay rent, pay internet, pay for food and even afford your little hobby of building model kits of robots, you still thought that the car was to much. Not that you needed it to begin with. The town you lived in, a city in the middle of nowhere, was small enough that every thing was in walking distance or a bus ride away, so you really did not need a huge expensive equipment that you would have spend even more money on fulling and fixing.
But it did not stopped you from admiring them. Time to time a rich fuck would drive though streets in their expensive sports car, catching attention of every one with their flashy paint or loud engine, before speeding away. And even better is when an old car would be repurposed, turning an old metal in to a new always fascinated. Especialy when some moron managed to find an old car like Volvo P1800, 1958 Bulck Century or Dolores, a rare car of it self so when it is bright and colorfull it makes you awe in amusement. You always wished you could hitch a ride in one of those beautiful cars but can only dream about it. And your friends knew about it. One night you got a message from your friend about coming somewhere urgently, you tried to deny, saying that it was late at night and you really wished to stay home and get some rest but they insisted and you being a human pleaser, buckled under the preasure and left your warm house in to the cold night chill, biting at your exposed skin and you pulled jacket over your body to try and keep your self warm. Walking through night streets of your little city, you did not felt in any danger as it was a quite small town and the only crime that was out of control was teenagers who mostly broke glasses or illegal races held by visitors from other cities, gathered here because of how empty streets were during night. And you local police could do nothing about it – mostly because of the budget cuts and what can an old car can do to catch up to the one specifically modified for speed. Walking towards the spot, your eyes grew wide as you saw what the spot was.
It was a race – a lot of colorfull cars were gathered around, with some having hoods up and others were just gathering onlookers because of their colorfull paint and powerful purr of the engine, itching to speed though the streets for a battle of wits. Your friends was right there, smiling at you and waving over, boasting about being the one who hosted the race and finally decided to invite you over, knowing well that you wont snitch on them, not that you would as you now felt a bit uneasy surrounded by drivers and other people who were propably best not to upset. So with that you started walking around the cars, eyeing every detail of the car with wonder until one specific car caught your attention completely.
Constantly fixing Starscream would make anyone angry and tiered, it was the 10th time that the grey seeker ended up in medbay because of his another scheme to usurper Megatron, with him ending beaten up to almost offline. Putting equipment down, Knockout let a heavy sigh as seeker finally climbed down, his wings down and having no remarks today. This time the beating was to much even for him and he propably decided to just simmer down and headed to his quarters, not saying anything...
“Yeah, YOUR WELCOME” screaming after second in command, Medcon let an angry grumble, putting his clawed hand on his hip. This day was not going well – Breakdown was sent to one of the mining sites to keep an eye on vechicons after another of autobots attacks and them successfully getting energon, with a lot of vechicon’ casualty. The once he had to fix all by him self and only now he managed to get some rest. Piking a tablet up, he hoped that maybe one of the flesh-bags managed to held a race so that he can let all his frustration out n a race, speeding through city or desolate roads, taking over other cars and making them bite his dust. Luckily it seemed like there is one, not to far and will be starting any second. Using the same datapad, he opened the ground bridge, making sure to be carful even if it seemed like Soundwave did not see it, the medick knew well then to mess with quite con, who seemingly let him do what ever he wanted without issue, as long as it did not harmed Megatron plane. Walking though the ground bridge, his shoulder pads visibly dropped as cold air hit his frame, already feeling a bit free from all the responsibilities that were tied to him as the only medic for Decepticons. Switching to his alt mode, he sped though the empty road, imidealty finding the spot and taking his right full spot at the front, ready to be basked in attention. Yet it seemed like it was not his day, as all the fleshy organics seemed to want to take pictures with old models then him, hurting his ego. How dare they, can they not see how hard he worked on his polish – it’s very hard to do it by your self, especialy the back when Breakdown was on other duty. Letting his engine grumble with anger, letting him simmer and just want to start the race and show them all!
“Oh wow... what a beaut!”
Shifting his side mirrors, Knockout stifled him self, even if he was already was till, observing a small female human walking around him, keeping their distance, just observing. It was nice to see some kind of respect as humans usually wanted to touch him with their little grabby hand, smothering what ever was on their body all over his finish, yet this one did not. Finally some respect after a long day. Revving his engine a bit, making the small organick jump a bit from sudden noise, their eyes growing wide and head cocking just a bit, staring at him with awe.
“That’s sound like strong... wow” strong? HA! You have no idea how powerful his engine is and ready to prove it. They smiled a bit, shinning their pearly whites at him, kneeling down and just stared at his designs on the doorframe, coking their head again. To be fare this little organick also had their own designs on their fleshy servos – some flowers and snakes, wrapped around the arms and their hair was of wild purple colour, something that Knockout strated to notise that humans seemed to enjoy painting their hair bright colours. For just a moment he wondered how his colour would look on them, shifting his tiers on the asphalt when a race was announce, giving other onlookers soe time to get out of the way “Good luck” right, like he needs luck – he has skill unlike those fleshies. The little human left quickly, joining the humans on side walk and with other cars revving, Knockout revved louder, making them jump and he chuckled quietly. With green light from organizer, all the cars shot off, tiers screeching on asphalt before gaining friction and the race begun. Speeding through narrow city streets, able to feel air dash by him, con masterfully swerved in between cars, able to hear some humans scream profanities at him. Like they ever had a wining chance against him...
You watched with bated breath as red car sped off, it’s engine revving loudly and disappearing behind the turn, masterfully drifting through sharp corner and now all you had to do is wait to see who will win. From the looks of it - it was a fast car and maybe he will win, yet you did not hope to much on it. Your friend kept bubbling about how Newby won’t be able to win as all the other cars were champions in that area and had quite a good engines to prove it. You just decided to watch, shivering time to time from cold.... surprisingly it did not take to long for a sound of engine to rev though the nigh and a very familiar crimson shape appeared on horizon, blinding every one with light and passing through the finish line. You let a yelp of happiness, clapping your hands seeing that “newby won”, cheering on.
Speeding away, Knockout kept looking back, seeing little organick cheer him on.... today, somehow, just a smallest attention even from organick seemed significant to him, like a pleasant word in a horrible day. Maybe he can visit this town again?
So any time now he had a bad day, Knockout started frequenting the small town, to win race and even managing to get glimpses of the small human, their hair seemed to change every other full moon, hell he even manged to see them with red hair, noting how good it looked, wishing that they kept the colour, yet it seemed like purple was yours to go to, spotting it most of times.  It was very pleasant sensation to see them cheer for him during races and even more when ever they were near, constantly complimenting his finish, seeing how well it was maintained. Finally after months of seeing them he decided that surely one ride won’t hurt. Just like any other night when ever he visited, the small one was right there, now among the crowed of other new fans that he was not too fond of, as they all flocked to him after his continues victory on the road. Revving his engine as a warning, he screeched forward just a bit, scaring the crowed enough for them to dispel, which almost send you away, but he managed to call out. Thanks to his tinted windows, the small human won’t see that there was no human body that the voice coming from, yet if he were to lower it down just a bit, creating a small crack, he can give an illusion of human who was talking.
“So, what’s your name pretty one?” driving just a bit closer and sort of blocking their way, knockout called out to your, your little eyes growing wide from sudden interaction, little fleshy opticks darting around a bit before narrowing on him again “So? What’s my fan’s name is?”
“Me?” you pointed at your self, questioning him with such disbelieve that he spoke to you “I.. uh, hi?”
“Shy one, are we?” Knockout chuckled a bit, shifting tiers on the asphalt. They clearly looked uncomfortable, eyes darting, hand grabing their own skin in a feeble attempt to control their emotions and try to look calm “So what is your name?”
“Y/N... what is yours?”
“Knockout” makes sense that drivers would use pseudonyms to avoid getting arrested after the race. Shifting a bit and trying not to start something you don’t want, you just stare at the crack in the window, hoping, no, praying that you did not accidently offended him or getting in to some kind of trouble, after all you are a woman and this world is to dangerous. Though you heard that traffickers are not to kin on those who are standing out – people with tattoo, bright hair and piercing are easy to identify after all, so you should be safe, yet you still were on your guard. And right now you gave your real name to a racer who is 100 percent in trouble with local police... Will you get arrested just for visiting such activities? “Earth to Y/n? Hello?”
His voice was smooth, that you can admit, almost angelic, or like a sirens call, beckoning you to actually get close, but you were better then this, unlike any other women. They would swoon over immideatly, seeing the money and hearing such voice, you just wanted to be left alone. Your life as a single person was perfect and you did not wanted to change it at all. So you really were on guard.
“Hi.. uh, sorry, I need to go! The race is about to start” and you trotted off, quickly making way to the safe spot as race was announced. Chuckling a bit, Knockout got him self ready for a race as well. Maybe he can extend this in to a game? After all some day are really REALLY borring...
Next
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vixensdungeon · 2 months ago
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Oh no, the dastardly No-Good Gang has ambushed crowd-favourite wrestler Joe Punchfist while he was promoting his upcoming charity match. He's outnumbered and getting pummeled in the middle of the ring while the officials look on helplessly. Will Joe be able to wrestle his match at next week's Renaissance Slayre pay-per-view, or will those poor orphans end up on the street? But wait! The crowd goes wild as a song starts playing and running out of the locker-room area comes…
Okay so before our valiant wrestler can run into the ring to save Joe's hide, we must create them. And we'll be using the WWF Basic Adventure Game for that!
The game assumes you'll be creating several wrestlers plus a couple managers and even a referee or announcer for each player, but we'll just be making one wrestler. This post is really long so click to see the rest of it!
First we pick a sex for our wrestler (this game was made in the early 90s so you'll excuse it if the terminology isn't up to 2025 standards). We'll be making a girl. For a name I just go to a random generator and get Weronika Sandström. She started wrestling out of high school so for random age we roll 1d10+17, getting an 18.
Then we determine our weight class. We could just pick, but that's not how we do it down in the Vixen's dungeon, so a random roll it is! A d% roll of 63 lands us in the lightweight division (sidebar: because this game is based on WWF in the early 90s, you can't actually make someone like Rey Mysterio in the game, because according to the designer's research there were no male wrestlers in the super lightweight category). Then we roll another d%. A 67 tells us that our weight is 225+1d6 pounds, 231 in our case. This gives us some game stats. Our maximum for the Aerial Tactics attribute is 90, and we get a +5 to whatever number we later generate for it. We have a -5 modifier for lift, meaning that our opponents need to roll 5 less than normal to lift us. Our maximum stamina is 90.
Next are our attributes. There's three ways to generate them: rolling random numbers and then assigning them as we see fit, using points to purchase them, or rolling them in order. And you know how we do it in the dungeon! For Brute Strength (STR) we roll a d6 on a chart and get a 6, which means a 50. Technical Ability (TEC) is 35, Brawling (BRA) is 45, Martial Arts (MAR) is 45, Aerial Tactics (AGI which is short for Agility rather than Aerial Tactics) is 30+5 for 35, Perception (PER) is 45, Stamina (STA) is 45, Business Skill (BUS) is 30, and Constitution (CON) is 45. Our lightweight girl is more of a powerhouse than you might expect!
Then we get to Advantages, which are miscellaneous qualities our wrestler might have, at the cost of lowering our basic attributes. And would you look at that, there's an option to roll them randomly! We get to roll twice and get 98 (Resistance to Attack) and 70 (Winning Appearence). We have to lower four attributes by 5 for the first one, and two of them for the second one. I choose to lower my TEC, BRA, AGI, and BUS, and then BRA and AGI again (I couldn't have lowered the same attribute twice to pay for the same advantage so I had to do them separately like that). This character is kinda starting to resemble the one I made in AEW Fight Forever, who is built entirely around kicking, although she is a heavyweight. For Winning Appearence I choose to be good-looking, and the neat thing about this advantage is that even if I had chosen to be ugly, the effect would be exactly the same and depend on whether the wrestler is good or bad. It says something about how our physical qualities are perceived depending on how our nature is perceived. For Ressitance to Attack I pick Martial Arts, which will halve the amount of stun those kinds of attacks deal against our wrestler. Your kung-fu is weak!
There's also disadvantages, so we get to roll some more, yippee! 50 and 45 would give us the same one so we re-roll one of them and get 39. We have Title Lust and Personal Vendetta. A second roll (69, nice~) means our lust is for the Intercontinental Title, meaning we can't wrestle for the World Title or the Tag Team Title. For Personal Vendetta I'll pick some bad character to feud with, probably someone from the No-Good Gang! We get to raise two and one attributes, respectively. I pick STR twice and STA once.
Now our attributes stand at STR 60 (the maximum for a starting character), TEC 35, BRA 35, MAR 45, AGI 25 (the minimum), PER 45, STA 50, BUS 25, and CON 45. We can now determine our secondary attributes. Our Power Bonus (PB) is the number of extra stun points we inflict, in our case 3/2/1/0 (I'll explain the slashes later). Our Stun Points (STN) are determined by cross-referencing some charts based on our STA and CON, which ends up giving us 200/140/92/46.
Next we determine our build. I want our girl to be of the Large variety (with some curves), so cross-reference a chart and find that at 231 lbs. our wrestler is 5' 8". Then we choose handedness. I try to roll for ambidexterity but fail, so I make her a righty like myself. As my finishing move I pick Bearhug, because isn't it nice to just cuddle your opponent into submission? Based on our AGI, our Movement (MOV) is 2/2/2/1. Based on CON, our Recovery (REC) is 4/4/3/3. Our Fan Support starts at 0, but our good looks will help in raising it! Finally we multiply our BUS by 5 for 125, giving us $125 because it's that kind of game. I'll buy a bandanna, some jeans (cut into jorts), a tank top, kneepads, and a sweat shirt, leaving us with $4. Hopefully we can make some money so we don't have to wrestle barefoot anymore!
So what's with the slashes? To illustrate, here's our final lineup of attributes.
STR 60/54/48/42 TEC 35/32/28/25 BRA 35/32/28/25 MAR 45/41/36/32 AGI 25/23/20/18 PER 45/41/36/32 STA 50/45/40/35 BUS 25/23/20/18 CON 45/41/36/32 PB 3/2/1/0 MOV 2/2/2/1 REC 4/4/3/3 STN 200/140/92/46 So you see how all our attributes actually have four values? As we start out at STN 200, they're all in that left-most value. But as our Stamina Points wear out, all our attributes start dropping!
Anyway, back to our exciting scene from earlier. "Sandstorm" by Darude starts playing as newcomer Weronika Sandström runs in to save the day!
As you can probably tell, this is a very silly game. And that's what makes it great.
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mt-oe · 1 year ago
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I’ve just been highly obsessed over modern Mizu. So I’m just asking for that, modern Mizu meets reader at uni or something like that! I love LOVE your writing!! 💖💖
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dear!
Thank you so much for the request! I hope you don't mind if I add a bit more to this <3 I've been wanting to write modern au Mizu hcs and your request really granted me the opportunity to do so.
Also, I'm so sorry for being so slow on the requests. I've been so eepy lately for some reason and I can't fight against it, like I tried but failed so many times ;; I am a slave to my own body
Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*
warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader, game reference (league of legends)
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general headcanons
✦ This woman would either overload or underload her units like crazy. She'd either be busy with her academics and work 6 days a week, even sending a letter to the admin so she can go past the mandated maximum amount of units in one semester or doing absolutely nothing while the rest of her friends are going apeshit on their finals. There's no in between.
She would plan it like an absolute psychopath too. Nothing special foreseeably happening in the next semester? She's going above and beyond. A convention she wants to go to on September? Signing up for the bare minimum amount of allowed units just for one event.
Her friends are either concerned for her and losing contact for a whole semester, or are pissed off that she's playing some kind of gacha game on her phone while they're losing their minds on their finals.
✦ Would be the type to be so pissed off by slow walkers in the hallway. The hatred she has for people who walk so fucking slow in the hallway is unbridled. Though she's not the type to pick fights, she'd be the type to sigh loudly, making you feel her anger, before overtaking and wouldn't be afraid to bump against the person if needed. Her hatred goes deep enough to the point where she even remembers people JUST because they walk slow.
✦ The type of friend who would walk to everything. Sure she has her motorbike, but if she can walk to it, you bet she's going to walk. She even knows different shortcuts to different buildings on campus.
"This looks like a good place," Akemi tells them, showing her phone. For once, their vacant hours finally aligned and they've been trying to find a good place to eat since the lunch hall food was getting repetitive and they could feel their taste buds dulling over time. Akemi, being the 'what do you guys want to eat?' friend, and the other three, being the 'I don't know' or the 'I'm fine with whatever' friends, is left to search for a new place.
They took a look at the place and shrugged in agreement, making her roll her eyes at their lack of opinion. "Okay but how are we going to go there?" Taigen asks. Mizu takes Akemi's phone and looks up the map to the place. The distance itself was enough to tell a person that they should take the bus. Hell, it was on the other side of town almost.
"We can walk. It's not that far," she says, closing the map and handing Akemi her phone back. They trusted Mizu. It couldn't be that bad.
Right?
By the time they arrived at the restaurant, they were already sweating, ready to give up, tired out of their wits. The food wasn't even worth it anymore.
"It's not that far" my ass.
Even Taigen, her fellow gym rat and workout buddy, was fucking exhausted. And this bitch (affectionately), has the audacity to stand there, crossing her arms with the most unamused expression on her face as if it was their fault for being so exhausted. If she tells you its walking distance, it is NOT within walking distance.
✦ She's a jack-of-all trades type of person, but she'd have the fattest fucking talent crush on anyone who can express themselves through art. The talents and skills she gathered were purely out of necessity. Fixing and modifying bikes was the only thing she was truly passionate about but it's hard to be expressive through repairing motorbikes, right?
She has always been so amazed by stories of painters, sculptors, singers, and writers who have deep backstories and can reflect it through their art. She would be the type to read the whole description in art museums just because she's so amazed by them.
Deep inside her, she wished she could do that too. To express herself through a medium. Like what do you mean you wrote this poem because you're sad your cat died? Or what do you mean you took this professional-looking picture just because you had the best picnic date with your friends? How can someone write a song about casual sapphic sex? She can't even vocalize her feelings, how much more in art? Whenever she sees someone writing their English essay so well or drawing randomly, she'd secretly be so interested.
✦ Mizu would have social media accounts but would use it bare minimum. She'd be that type of classmate that you're not sure if it's really her because she doesn't have a profile picture you can check or if she does, it's like a picture of an item instead of her face.
Her friends would be so happy whenever Mizu posts an IG story even if it's just a picture of where they were eating or even if their face is barely in the picture.
"Aww you posted us!" and they're like little ants with how small they were in the picture.
Or
"Do you want to eat at that place again?" and she'd be like 'what? why?' but they'd know she actually enjoyed the food because she bothered posting a picture of the place.
Deep inside her, Mizu wants to keep up with whatever trends her friends are into but she's very lowkey about it. The tough love friend who secretly really enjoys being friends, y'know? She'd search about it and try to figure it out. Everyone's surprised by her internet knowledge since she always acts like she wouldn't give a shit whatever new trend is on.
✦ This sounds so corny and stereotypical, but Taigen and her would be those gym rats who solve everything by working out. It didn't matter if it was a weekday, a weekend, a holiday, or whatever weather condition was going on outside, they are going.
They failed a test? Gym. Hungover? Gym. Too much homework? Gym.
When Megan Thee Stallion said she'll go to the gym two times a day, they go three. When she said the results are resulting? The body is bodying? These two are taking it seriously.
Taigen would focus on biceps, chest, and lats, cutting down on fat so his body would look more lean. He'd hate leg day but would do it anyway just to balance out his physique.
Meanwhile, Mizu would have a 'sleeper-type' build and her routine would be more well-rounded and would even include calisthenics on her free time. They'd try to beat each other's PR but it really ain't a competition when Mizu is always winning.
.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
how did you two meet?
Stupid shitty project.
Stupid fucking publisher gatekeeping the fucking article.
Stupid bitch ass school wifi keeps disconnecting.
Mizu resisted the urge to slam her laptop shut as her device disconnected from the wifi for the nth time. She was stuck in the library trying to finish her midterm project for building design system and holy shit was she frustrated.
She needed to create a specific building design that was supposed to be environmentally friendly, using what was considered as 'green materials' and had minimally destructive designs. It wouldn't be so bad if this fucking publisher just had to put a price on the article she needed. Wasn't education supposed to be free or whatever?
Her friends tried to help her, telling her to use the library computers, but none of them were working or free at the moment. That leaves her to use her laptop in the library. Usually, that wouldn't be a problem but due to the recent rains, the school wifi has been pretty shitty.
After a few more tries, she decided that this wasn't worth the frustration and trouble, and decided to collect her things to get ready to leave. Just as she was about to zip up her bag, a tap on the shoulder stopped her. She turned around to look at who was trying to get her attention, ready to tell them off. But upon turning around, her heart skipped a beat.
There you stood.
In your oh-so fancy sweatpants and college logo hoodie (whose logo wasn't even the university's). Your hair was ruffled and messy, eyes tired and more exhausted than her's. Understandably so though. It was hell week and everyone was tired, but somehow, your tired looked so pretty.
Her eyes continued to stare at you. Like the world stopped moving and it was just you and her in the room.
"Umm...there's a free computer over there if you still need it," you said shyly but in a straightforward manner. A small tired smile on your lips, trying to appear as friendly as possible. Mizu snapped out of her trance and nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder to move to the said computer.
Maybe she'll stay for a bit. To finish her midterm project.
Definitely not for the pretty lady.
No, of course not.
Upon sitting down, she couldn't help but sneak glances at you, looking back down at the screen when you looked in her direction. She felt stupid, like a lovestruck fool. Borderline, like a child getting their first actual crush.
In her mind, she was already planning how to approach you without making it awkward. Maybe she'll try to strike up a conversation? But how? Hmmm..
It definitely took a while, being distracted and all, but she was finally able to finish her report. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself mentally to talk to you. She stood up and stretched after logging herself out, pretending to look around the room but in reality she was looking for you.
Much to her dismay, you were no where to be found. A small "fuck" left her lips as she sighed, picking her bag up. The universe must hate her. Giving her an opportunity to see the most beautiful person she's ever seen only for them to leave early? Fuck.
Her thoughts continued to plague her for the rest of the day, even until the next morning. It sounded so silly and so stupid for her to be this bothered, but she really just couldn't forget you. She sighed once again as she stared at the lecture hall walls, face hidden against her palms.
"Excuse me. Do you have an extra pencil?" a voice asked as she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up grouchily, her eyes widened immediately.
It was you.
And this time, she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass.
.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
but what now? (girlfriend headcanons)
✦ Mizu would absolutely remember EVERYTHING about you. Your birthday, MBTI score, favorites, dislikes, and even the silliest things such as what makes you sneeze.
She has a second brain for these, an internal SSD in her brain just for you. You won't even have to remind her about anything, because she already planned it out before you remember.
It's especially great for errands since you don't have to give her a list, she already has a list in her brain. Sometimes, you'd think she forgot because she's so quiet about it but she always finds a way to prove you wrong. If she says she forgot something about you, it's a lie. She never forgets, especially when it comes to her girlfriend.
✦ Would pretend to not understand or know how to do something just so you could teach or show her. Mizu definitely has a lot of skill up her sleeves, but whenever you asked if she knew something that she knew you were good at, she'd pretend not to.
"So I just click like this?" she asked you through the call, clicking on a minion. You had enthusiastically called her, asking if she wanted to learn how to play League of Legends. Unknown to you, your girlfriend already knew how to play and was quite good at it (that's a lie, she's beyond good).
She couldn't help but smile slightly as she watched you nod enthusiastically. The thought of you being so eager to spend time with her was heart-warming. She even made a dummy account just to make her beginner act look believable. "Yeah, you just need to keep this up. So should we queue together?" you asked, sounding really excited.
Mizu chuckled and nodded. "Don't get mad at me, okay?" she joked lightly, accepting your invite. "I won't. I'll be the ADC so you can play support until you get the hang of it, okay?" you said, checking which ADR champions you had cool skins of. Your girlfriend let out a small laugh at your enthusiasm, signaling you to start the queue.
The game went really well. Extremely well.
To your surprise, Mizu was quite a good support. Never accidentally stealing your CS, always being there during a clash, skill shots always hitting, knowing who to focus on. "It's because you're good at teaching people," she said.
But really, you wonder how she knew which items to build when you never even taught her.
✦ Would do the most random or the smallest things for you. She's not good at expressing her feelings so she makes up for it through acts of service and gift giving. Mizu tries her best to be as loving as she can without overwhelming you.
Can you even remember the last time you tied your own shoelaces? You can't. Can you?
Sometimes, you'll be surprised to arrive home with the fridge already stocked even though you had told her that you'll do the groceries on your next day off. The only response you'll get is a shake of her head and a random thing you mentioned you wanted to buy.
Sometimes, she's a bit silly though. Putting in the effort to remove her jacket to shield you from the rain even though you had an umbrella, removing the buckle of your helmet so she'd be the one to put it on you, gifting you random goofy greeting cards.
It's both endearing and a bit funny.
✦ Secretly loves it when you put makeup on her or if you let her do your makeup. Her amazement and fascination skyrockets whenever she watched you put make up on. It was a line of femininity that she was never taught to cross. She'd watch you with deep interest, observing how carefully you did it, how purposeful each step you did was.
"So why do you put it on?" she asks. You hum in thought before shrugging. "It just...makes me feel pretty."
What do you mean it makes you feel pretty?
You were already pretty.
You can't help but laugh at her and her curiosity. "It just does. It feels therapeutic to put on and I like how I look after, it's like expressing myself or something. Like painting but on your face," you explained to her, making her raise an eyebrow.
"But what if you don't like the way it looks?" she asked, picking up your eyeshadow palette and swatching a color on her hand curiously. "I can always take it off," you answered, blending the blush on your cheeks.
She stayed silent for a moment, continuing to swatch the colors on her hand. Her mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that this could make you feel better. Its just color and chemicals, and it washes off too.
Your eyes scanned her face before a soft laugh left your lips. "Here. Want to try?" you offered. Your girlfriend looked a bit hesitant but she wanted to understand.
Was this really fun?
After a few minutes, some struggles and squirming, you finally finished putting some make up on her. You tried your best to make it look as natural and as light as possible, knowing that she wouldn't appreciate the texture of heavy makeup immediately.
Blue eyes scanned over her own face on the mirror. She didn't say anything, but the slight twitch of her lips and the shine in her eyes spoke thousands.
"I want to do it on you too," she said quietly. "At least one thing. Let me try to do it for you."
You heart melted at her excitement. How could you refuse her when she finally finds something she likes? You handed her your eyeliner and sat down. "Here, follow my instructions.."
Mizu actually ended up liking it. Although she enjoyed putting it on you more, she still enjoyed it nonetheless. The amount of practice she put in made you wonder if she was actually better than you now. Somehow, she felt a bit of relief and a bit happy that she finally found something she could do that was considered as 'artistic'.
What started off as a simple "let me try" ended up being part of your routine. This woman never stopped practicing different eyeliner looks and now she just sits on your bed, waiting for you to finish your routine so she can put it on you. Sometimes she'd do a more creative graphic liner look, but on days you had to go to uni or work, she'd do the usual. She could probably do it with her eyes closed.
And the results?
SHARP.
Capital S H A R P.
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roboticchibitan · 4 months ago
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Okay so I have been PINING after these heart glasses that zenni kept saying wouldn't work with my pupilary distance but I realized yesterday that the reason it wouldn't let me order these glasses is because I was putting in a dual PD instead of a single PD and when I put it in as a single number it let me try to buy them so I will be using the money my parents gave me for my birthday to buy these fuchsia heart glasses with pink migraine + progressive lenses the SECOND I get my new prescription on the 18th! Look at them!!!
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Currently my only functional pants I can wear outside the house are hot pink too. Don't mind me waiting at a bus stop in my custom made black leather jacket, black metal band t shirt I modified myself, hot pink pants I sewed myself, and hot pink heart shaped glasses, along with my hot pink mohawk that shows off my scalp tattoo
I know there are people out there who will judge me for dressing like this but you know what! I'm like if punk was pink and I'm happy with that.
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lu-is-not-ok · 7 months ago
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So I'm going over some various Canto Finale Dungeon Events to look at check bonuses and maluses, and the first one of real interest is in Canto 3's. Linking to the wiki page that lists it: https://limbuscompany.wiki.gg/wiki/Branch_K-02/Floor_2
It's "A Rotting Corpses's Momento". Basically, there's a dead Inquisitor with something inside (a Seal you can spend later on). You gotta send a Sinner to root around and find it. Ryoshu (Loves Gore) and Rodion (willing to put in work for shiny stuff) get +2s, Sinclair and Hong Lu get -4s and if they fail, more SP loss.
Sinclair tracks. He's got a weak stomach for that kind of stuff, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on Hong Lu getting a malus. He doesn't really have problems with violence, not like Sinclair, he's not offput by blood or gore. (If there's any more interesting Hong Lu bonuses or maluses on checks I'll send more asks later)
Oooh, now this is interesting! Let's see... I think I have two different possible interpretation. One that assumes this multiplier is fully genuine, and one which assumes it's not so much.
The latter idea is that the negative multiplier is one Hong Lu normally wouldn't genuinely have, but it's one he's acting as if he has based on his own read of Sinclair.
Consider this. Sinclair is thus far the only Sinner that is anywhere close to being of the same financial/class status as Hong Lu. He's the only other Sinner with the correct experience of being raised in a wealthy household, and as such he's in the unique position of being able to call bullshit on whatever Hong Lu might try to spin as his background.
Mind you, this isn't just my opinion - this is something that the story content following up after Canto 3 supports as well. In fact, Sinclair is shown to be one of the few people whose questioning of Hong Lu's demeanor and attitudes is a recurring thread.
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Likewise, Hong Lu uses Sinclair as a springboard to make his story more believeable by implying that whatever knowledge he may have that differs from Sinclair's is just a silly little cultural difference, instead of what it actually is - him being way more knowledgeable than someone who claims to be sheltered would otherwise be.
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Then there's also this moment in Canto 5, where after Hong Lu's story gets an extremely negative reaction out of Sinclair, Hong Lu appears to course correct and alter the story to be far less horror-focused.
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Like, looking at the tone in which Hong Lu was telling the story before that last sentence, it's pretty clear to me how this ending is not what he initially meant to say. It's too abrupt, his tone shifts too much for it to be the natural conclusion, and everyone who follows up the story with their own thoughts and reactions makes it clear it was that odd of an ending in-character as well. It's a change he made because he realized he misjudged Sinclair's tolerance for this type of thing, and thus it could make him look bad.
All of this, to me, shows that Hong Lu is very much aware that he has to be extra careful around Sinclair when it comes to how believable his lies are. Not only because Sinclair himself has the ability to call his bullshit, but also because for the other Sinners, he's the only other person on the bus they can compare Hong Lu to. And if the two's reactions and tolerances for things start to diverge too much, this could cause the others to start asking questions he can't answer easily.
With all that laid out, I believe one of the ways to interpret Hong Lu's check modifier here is just that - him trying to align his own reactions and tolerance to that of Sinclair's. This is Sinclair's Canto after all, where every Sinner ends up with their attention focused on him and his circumstances. There's more spotlight on how Sinclair acts around things like bodies than there ever was before that point. To Hong Lu, it's the perfect opportunity to observe Sinclair and in turn affirm his position as an even more sheltered and naive person by following his example.
However, this is just one interpretation. I do have another, alternate interpretation - one that assumes the modifier is a reflection of Hong Lu's genuine feelings rather than a reflection of his act.
Because, as it turns out, there is something interesting going on here!
While Hong Lu shows no real aversion to blood and gore the way Sinclair does, and he appears to be outright immune to physical pain, he is depicted as having a very odd attitude to messing with already dead bodies.
This is primarily shown through the second log he wrote for the Pink Shoes Enchantee/Posessee enemies.
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It's a very strange backpedal of Hong Lu to do. It draws attention to the fact that Hong Lu would in fact be interested in hearing things about the body itself, considering his initial instinct is to say he'd tell a servant to describe what it looks like.
It makes me wonder if it's a clue as to what part exactly Hong Lu considers to be "that gross sight". Is it really just the fact that there's a dead body, or is it more specifically the idea of messing with it and taking its things?
It would certainly explain why he'd have a negative modifier for this check. After all, if he does indeed consider the act of looting a corpse so disgusting that he would have looked away and made someone else do it, one can imagine that being told to actually do it himself would not be something he'd be happy with.
And, of course, there is also the option of the negative modifier being caused by a mix of both interpretations. It could be that it's his genuine feelings that he's further exagerrating and exploiting for the sake of making his act more believable.
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bayoubashsims · 4 months ago
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The Old Town Trolley System
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I figured it didn't make sense that Old Town doesn't have trolley tracks when its iconic icon is literally a trolley. Luckily, the updated SimPe enables us to EASILY add or remove roads!
So, I decided to turn Maple Street as one end of a trolley route with another ending in a loop further towards the waterfront.
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The loop near the school and stadium rabbit holes.
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Also, now that we can modify roads on SimPe, we can change how the roads look with regards to hood deco. Now, the Gunther Goth Highway is connected to the two lanes of the lake causeways.
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A zoomed out view of the Old Town quarter, now featuring a ferry landing, a bus depot, a school, a stadium, a hospital, and later on, beach lots.
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cobaltperun · 2 years ago
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Lost (2) - Into the nothing
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Tara Carpenter x female Reader
Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.
Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics
Word count: 4.2k
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-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-
You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, it was actually spontaneous one, you just got done setting up the table for her birthday and she came out to her backyard with Chad keeping her eyes covered. She barely even registered all the food, she just ran over to you when he let go of her and jumped into your arms, and that was the moment Mindy captured from the side, the moment when Tara was leaning her forehead against yours and looking you in the eyes. The second one was back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.
Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.
You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.
So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught a glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.
You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.
With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.
~X~
It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.
“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it? Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.
“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.
“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.
Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.
Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy had already grabbed it and handed it to him.
“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.
“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained before Wes could say anything.
“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.
“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.
“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.
No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.
“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”
“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.
There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.
Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.
“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you, as frightening as the call was going to be.
Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.
“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.
“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.
~X~
At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.
You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.
“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone, he sounded like he just stopped crying. Something was wrong, but you were still in denial.
Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”
“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”
He was wrong.
He wasn’t.
It couldn’t have happened to Tara.
It did.
The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”
Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. You just barely recognized Wes’ mom as stopped you before you could enter the hospital.
“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.
“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.
“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly, you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.
“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.
“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.
Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”
She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.
You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.
“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still and if it wasn’t for the beeping of her heart rate monitor you were sure you would have gone mad right then and there.
“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.
Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whatever did this to her.
“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.
An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara in the past four months. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.
The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.
Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, afraid even, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.
You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.
For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.
A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.
“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.
“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.
Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.
“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.
A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.
“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch.
“You promise?” she asked, a bit calmer as she stared into your eyes.
You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.
“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.
You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”
Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So, you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.
“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.
Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.
“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down, and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised, she fell asleep once again.
Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.
~X~
Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your muscular arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.
The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.
She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes, the slight furrow of your brows and a tiny scowl, you clearly weren’t comfortable like this, but she still melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.
Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.
~X~
The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.
Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.
“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.
“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.
“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.
“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.
“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back, along with a slightly mischievous smile. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.
“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.
“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.
You were with her, as if there was any way you wouldn’t be with her in this situation. And, if allowed, you were going to make sure you remained with her from now on.
A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.
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