#no such thing as a dice the size of the universe

[nstaaf-book]

Love Triangle: How Trigonometry Shapes the World by Matt Parker

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

A Domestic Dinner Date (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Universe

Summary: You both eager and jittery as your ordered cab approaches John's house, bringing you closer to an evening of his cooking and your attempts to open up to you.

Content warning: Reader is an escort (Minors DNI, 18+ only!), references to sex, 2.5k words

Masterlist // AO3 Version

John was stood at the cerulean open front door of a delightful detached house in the middle nowhere when you arrived. His dark jumper’s sleeves were rolled up, much to your glee, and he was wearing a navy apron that seemed fresh out of its package, creases straight up the centre in line with the angled slats and paneling of the house’s exterior.

You thanked the driver as you exited, hitting send on the text to your friend whilst passing by John’s black truck that was parked on the expansive drive.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello, John.” You kissed his cheek as you passed, noting how his cheek creased while he preened under your greeting.

Taking your cue from the shoe rack, you toed your own off to add to the collection. John showed you the ground floor of his home, leading the way amongst simple décor. Mounted art that was fresh out the plastic, a settee with cushions that had never felt the weight of a person, unchipped granite counter-tops, you poorly hid the chill it all gave you. A show room in IKEA had more of a soul than this.

At least, in the kitchen, there was some proof of residence in the various utensils scattered around. Pinches of salt and pepper scattered on a wooden chopping board

“What are we making then?” You met John’s raised eyebrow with your own. “What, you want me at the breakfast bar, sitting pretty, sipping wine? No! Show me.”

Somewhat of a calculated risk on your part, but really? John didn’t seem the type to force you into submission, and the smirk on his face tipped you off that he was rather hoping you’d help him cook before he even retrieved a spare apron for you to wear. You’d bet on yourself if you could.

Tied around your waist at the front, like you’d seen on The Bear, you brushed the front of the apron off before washing your hands. Glass dishware cradled steaks already soaked in seasoning and soy sauce, positioned out of the way on the draining board beside you.

You observed the bag of vegetables he unloaded, “This feels like a ‘we’re having guests over’ type of meal.”

“Well, you are my guest.”

“Aww, how early did you get to the farmer’s market to get all this?”

Your teasing was met by John confidently taking your wrists and manipulating them to have your palms open and up. Next thing you knew, he had plopped a beef tomato into both of them.

“Chop these please,” and, not even attempting to hide his amusement, he placed a recently sharpened knife on your designated chopping board.

Recovering from whatever that was, you placed the fruits down, “Fine, keep your secrets. Any preference for size of slice?”

“Diced, thank you.”

You hid the urge to bellow “behind!” well as you scooted around him to reach the sink. A quick wash later, you were carefully wheeled the knife over the tomatoes flesh.

“How was work?”

“Usual. Yourself?”

“Usual.” Shallow remarks, and your conversation recovered faster than last time when you asked, “Did you watch the Liverpool game the other night?”

John chuckled, “Working late, I had to look up the results after.”

“Maybe, when you can, even if we can’t meet up, we could do a watch along. You know, you watch where you are, I watch where I am and we chat on the phone in between the good bits.”

“I’d like that,” Then he went back to trimming his potatoes into slim sticks, his face still lit up from the idea. “Be like having you in my office.”

Ah, so he worked late and had an office. Okay, it wasn’t the big breakthrough that you were hoping for. It was something though.

That was when you realised what he was doing with the potatoes. “Making your own chips too? You’re going all out for me.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.”

“How often do you get to cook?”

“Not often at all.”

“Then I feel honoured.” And you leant up against John’s side as he finished dunking the slices in the saucepan of salted water. When you kissed his shoulder through the fabric of his cashmere jumper – the jumper he was filling out so very nicely, by the way - he didn’t stiffen like he had before. Rather, John got a dopey sort of smile that made all the lines by the corners of his eyes and mouth creased into being, creating more evidence of his happiness. You refused to tease him about anything around that, out of principle. Instead, you were pleased that your work was bringing more chances to make that expression appear.

“You wanna watch a show after dinner?”

“You have another recommendation?”

“I do have something in mind. It’s quite apropos.”

John hummed in approval whilst he set the saucepan to parboil the potatoes. Leaning against the countertop, you against the island, sipping away coyly as you spoke about some future plans.

“I’m good from here. Go sit down.”

He’d even set the table all romantic, gotten out some unburned candles to light and offered some wine, which you refused on principle of being in his house for the first time and technically on the clock. You didn’t tell him that, of course. You sat beside him at the long solid wood dining table though. Enough opposites on date nights, he craved domesticity, so you adjusted your placing beside him and looked as innocent was you could when he placed your dish in front of you first.

A cut of the steak was what you ate first, immediately covering your mouth with your hand as it sizzled on your tongue, the flavour’s power catching you off guard.

John raised an eyebrow, barely hiding his grin as he prepared to take his inaugural bite, “Good?”

Shaking your head, you revealed your smile, “Don’t look at me.”

Instead of laughing like he was clearly trying not to, John offered a toast and your glasses sang together as you gave cheers to the success of the meal. It was almost embarrassing how fast you polished your meal off, which you countered by singing John’s praises to get him a matching shade of shyness. He paired it nicely with his pride and ensuring you knew you were an excellent colleague in the kitchen, allowing you neatly to introduce:

“The Bear?”

“It’s so good. I’m only four episodes in - hooked.”

Like show, like play-pretend boyfriend, it seemed, although you and John barely reached the same intensity Carmy experienced during your own cooking experience.

It was time to test the waters again. The approach was like John was a rescue that needed to be reminded that soft touch was normal and to be expected around you.

It mainly involved resting your hand on his heart. But your position allowed you to press completely against him, your arm resting upon his full belly hidden beneath a layer of muscle, fat and fabric. This wasn’t just for John’s benefit; taking stock of how large he was, a man built from marble and conviction, kept you grounded in the reason why he’d hired you. Surely, someone had to be this man’s type, someone who would not mind the months apart and loved his mutton chops. His solitude dismayed you, as did the fact that he hadn’t yet made any advances on your spooning. You let out a sigh, aiming to present it as one of relief, and shifted your position in an act of getting comfortable (you were already more than satisfied with this spot).

When John let his cheek rest on your crown, you closed your eyes. Hopefully, this fit what he was after: couch cuddles after a nice meal. You hoped, even when he hadn’t asked you to stay.

“I’m sorry, this is meant to be a comedy?” He asked incredulously after the second episode’s cold open. You only shrugged before settling back down in his side, feeling a tingle in your spine as his finger idly traced along the left side of it.

What affirmed your suspicions was you know he wanted to ask you to stay anyway. But he never did. He caught up with your episodes, denied help with washing up the dishes and offered to walk you to the car, even if it was just fifteen steps down the gravel driveway.

“I’ll have to cook for you something next time,” You said, looping your arm through his.

“Just tell me what you need from the farmer’s market.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You pecked his cheek, taking your time when moving away. The result: John lurked equally close to you, his hand falling to your knee as if to stop you from fitting into the back seat properly. “You want me to stay, don’t you?”

Genuinely hesitant, John maintained his gentleman act even as he admitted: “I do.”

So it was delightful to see his micro-expressions shift when you said, as easy as breathing, “Let me go grab my pyjamas; I’ll be right back.”

“I could drive you?”

“You’ve got that washing up that you wouldn’t let me do,” You replied, keeping a balance of light-hearted in front of the cabby and firm enough to dissuade John from pushing further. Per your privacy clause in your agreement, you told John to link you up with the secure car service he wanted to use, so that he wouldn’t have your address. You did not want him to see where you lived.

Thankfully, he agreed to your conditions and he released the car door for you to close.

“Back in a flash!”

---------------

“I’m gonna change. Maybe we can watch more once I’m ready?”

He was still in his attempt at casual get-up – unless he just genuinely wore cashmere as a casual garment. Leading you upstairs, he showed you to his room that was just as straight laced and dust-free as the rest of the house. A cream en-suite was offered as your changing room. Taking note of how his bed was pressed firmly against the wall and window, you locked yourself into the en-suite.

You couldn’t help but explore. Beard care products in wicker baskets, plus a few bottles and tubes that were half-used sat inside sparse overhead cupboards. Upon the top shelf, a handful of toiletries from the hotels you met him in sat untouched and unused. Nothing outside of a typical bachelor bathroom, except you did pause to smell his cologne, even spray some in the space ahead to walk through on your way out.

Thank fuck you’d completed your laundry day yesterday. Matching and adorable pyjamas had been waiting for you on the chair pile when you’d arrived home earlier and now dressed you to perfection. You fired off another text, updating and assuring your safety despite being in a remote house.

Every step down to the sitting room revealed more of John, who was already staring at you from his spot on the couch, his wine almost absent from the glass in his hand. There was a careful smile on his face, well-constructed like every part of him. But over the banister, you could see what he couldn’t hide in the glint in his eyes.Maybe this was a kink: the apron, the cooking, the sleepwear. But if it was a kink, where was the sex he seemed so excited about during that initial dinner?

Still not a bad gig.

As you rejoined him on the couch, John held up his phone, “I transferred you the money whilst you were out.”

“I saw, thank you.” And you snuggled into his side once again.

As he eased back into the couch cushions, you felt John pull you into him and take a deep breath, his nose pressed into your scalp. A half second later, he drew away his head and you waited on his suddenly still chest to see what he did next.

His arms constricted around you for just a moment. Then they slacked into a lax grip around you, his thumb rubbing back and forth where it met your arm. He took another deep breath before letting loose a throaty three-note chuckle that had disastrous effects on your composure, prickling in your neck as you felt that glorious sound wash down your back. It would take the entire next episode of The Bear for you to feel semi-alright with giving it your whole attention, but that only meant, when you began to doze, that you were expected to tune back in whenever John teased you about it – and he teased mercilessly with a squeeze down on your hip.

“You recommend a show, then you fall asleep during it. How am I meant to trust your judgement?”

“Not my fault you’re like a hot water bottle.”

 “Ah, so you’re the victim here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

At the sight of the end credits, John was the one to suggest going to bed. He was also the first to get in, lodging himself up against the wall after clearing his items from his bedside table into the drawer. The mattress slanted towards the middle as you folded yourself into bed, a rabbit in its warren, just avoiding the spot where John would usually recover from his day.

Sometimes, you did things without completely thinking them through. Never had you done it on the job though, so it was a shock to your system when you found yourself touching John’s arm to get his attention, words out of your voice box before your could turn it off:

“When we met, you told me that you would be lying if you weren’t interested in having sex. I’m interested in knowing what’s holding you back from asking for that.”

John paused his descent beneath the duvet and let his eyes drift down to where your hands gripped the bed sheets as he mulled over an answer.

When he looked back up, he spoke simply, “Nothing’s holding me back. I just don’t want that at the moment.”

That was all he offered, so it was what you accepted, kissing his lips quick as you wished him: “Goodnight, John.”

You slept with your hand under the pillow, holding onto your phone - silenced. But the night was as restless as you, waking you up to his arm around your waist at half two in the morning, the wind tap-tapping on the window. John’s radiator of a chest, hidden in his sleep shirt, was pulsing soporific warmth against your back. In the dark, you could make out something on his bicep where his shirt sleeve had rolled up. A tattoo but of what, you could barely decipher. You didn’t attempt to, flipping your pillow over before drifting off. 

Roused once more, you did not bothering to check the time as you slid out of bed on auto-pilot, your legs carrying you to the bathroom blearily. You didn’t want to wake John or draw yourself too far from sleep, so you left the light off. Feeling around the chilled tiles you hadn’t yet committed to memory brought you to the toilet, the roll and then the sink, only the soapy water making an effort to bring your consciousness forward.

Eyes adjusting to the dull wash of darkness as your feet found carpet again, you were greeted by a new shadow.John was looking up at you with alert eyes, pushed up on his front like he was Ariel at a rock pool. One of his hands, fingers fanned out, was in the space you’d vacated.

“Did I wake you?” You whispered as you approached him.

His voice was gruffer as he denied, “No, no.”

When he let you back into the bed, he tucked you under the duvet and (to your mild surprise) pulled you into his chest. It was quite unceremonious, how he scooped you up and rubbed his cheek on the back of your head, like you were his cat. Content to play the part, you hummed and curled in his burly arms. You had no choice, really, but it was a nice little trap he laid for you, even if he wasn’t completely awake when he set it.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” John said in a growl before he seemed to drop back into sleep, his hand burrowing under your pyjama shirt to grasp your belly. And, in your subconscious effort to return to slumber, you believed him. 

--------------

AN: Time for the interaction aspect! Vote on what you'd like to see me post next! Here's some short summaries:

Bubble Baths and Blisters (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Angst): Reader and John meet at another hotel at short notice. The reader offers to help John with his bath since he's injured (but he couldn't stay in the hospital any longer; he needed to see you).

First time (Pre-relationship/Angst and Smut): John calls the reader over last minute to his house. He's desperate for something to take his mind off things, but he's still holding out on getting over that first hurdle, still not quite taking what he wants. So you convince him to.

A “Moving-in” Present (Pre-relationship/Fluff and Some Smut): John buys something for the reader to welcome them into his home properly - with one little caveat.

[tabletopgayventures]

My TTRPG Lexicon

A list of common tabletop role-playing game terms:

Arc:  Adventures, chapters, seasons, story arcs, all terms to describe different sections of the overall campaign.  Things like “Training Arc”, “The Harbor Adventure”,  “Blood War”.  Whatever you decided to use to describe a specific section of your campaign.  These would only last a few sessions of a larger campaign.  

Campaign:  Speaking of campaigns, these are a series of adventures and sessions that cover a multi-arc story.  These can last for a few months or even multiple years.  Whether you start the campaign with a designated endpoint in mind or just want to play until the game fizzles is fun either way.  Most of my games have just fizzled out due to numerous external factors but I still had a great time.  

Character Sheet:  This is the paper or packet of papers that players use to track their character’s information.  Some ttrpgs have multiple pages of information you need to keep track of.  Some have only one page.  Some don’t even have character sheets; you just write the basic information in an index card or scrap paper. 

Core Rules:  Core rules are basic or generic game mechanics that developers can build a game around.  Some examples of Core Systems are D20, GURPS, and Powered by the Apocalypse.  Most of the time a game gets made and its system is so unique or interesting that it gets replicated into other games.  For example, Apocalypse World created the Powered by the Apocalypse or PBTA system.  Whereas Generic Universal Role Playing System or GURPS was built from the ground up to be a core system for games and settings to be built onto it.  

Crits:  Most systems have some kind of superior success when you roll a specific number on the dice.  Usually the highest or lowest numbers on one of the die.  Crits either give you a special bonus or penalty based on the rules of the game.  Some even let the player take control of the narrative in a limited way.  Not all games use crits but the ones that do make it special.

Dice:  One of the most common tools in TTRPGs.  Dice can have any number of sides, the most common being six sided dice, sometimes called monopoly or yahtzee dice.  These are abbreviated as d6.  If you see a number followed by a dice number that tells you how many dice of that type you need.  For example 3d6 says you need to roll 3 six sided dice.  Dice come in numerous shapes and sizes.  A standard 7 piece set of polyhedral dice will include a d4, d6, d8, two d10, d12, and d20.  Goodman games dice sets will also include D3 (which is just a d6), D5, D7, D14, D16, D24, and D30.  There’s also a d100 which is the size of a golf ball and impossible to read.  Most of the time if you need to roll a d100 or d% you roll two d10s with one designated as the 10s and the other the 1s.  The Denary Dice Set from Curiosity Box includes dice from each number 1 through 10.

Game System:  Game systems are different from core rules because they use the rules to make their system work.  Multiple games can use the same system but will make modifications to make each game unique.  For example:  Glitter Hearts, Root, and The Warren are all different game systems that use the same core rules of Powered by the Apocalypse.  

Homebrew:  Is when you modify the rules, setting, or just add something new.  Campaigns, games, and settings are almost never run as written.  You change the rules to make them work better for your table.  You change the setting to work with your story or the PC’s backstories.  You reorder a campaign to make it flow in a way that works for you.  Just making a character and putting it into a pre-established setting is technically homebrew because you’re going to make changes to the world in game.  

Module:  A general term for a prewritten adventure or campaign.  These can be for one-shots or multi-year campaigns.  These are great for Refs who don’t have the time to build a full homebrew adventure.  

Non-Player Character:  NPCs are the characters portrayed by the Ref and run all kinds of personalities.  Don’t expect them to have special voices for all of them though.

One-Shot:  Single session adventures.  Sometimes these can run 2 or 3 sessions, two-shot or three-shot respectively.  Any longer than that it’s just a campaign.  

Players:  The players, the PCs, the heroes, however you want to call it.  They make the character and interact with the game world within the rules of the game system.  Just remember, even though the Ref doesn’t have a single character sheet, they are still players at the table and are there to have fun too. 

Rules as Written:  Or RAW, is when you take the rules directly from the book without making any changes.  You read and interpret the written rules as literally as possible.  I tend to have a homebrew spin on everything so RAW is a rarity for me.

Referee:  The person who facilitates the game.  Sometimes called the Game Master or Storyteller.  Some games, like D&D or Call of Cthulhu, have specific titles for their games, Dungeon Master and Keeper of Arcane Lore respectively.  The job of the Ref is to set the scenes, adjudicate rules, plan the session, and ensure that everyone at the table is having a safe and good time. Including the referee!

Safety Tools:  Boundaries, check-ins, surveys, x-cards, and more.  These are the tools you use to make sure you and your players are having a safe and fun time.  It’s important for every player, including the referee, to establish hard and soft limits so no one gets hurt or stressed during the game.  I’ll explain more on these in another post.   

Setting:  The genre and story of your game.  Is it set in ancient Greece?  A dark and disturbing fantasy world?  A hopeful spaceport?  Whether it’s homebrew or pre-established by the developers, you and your players will inhabit and affect the setting in a variety of ways with your games.  

Session Zero:  Think of this as your game prep.  The ref and the players will go over the campaign, the characters, themes, safety, and so on.  

Sessions:  The time you set aside to play.  Sessions can be anywhere from a half hour to half a day, or even longer.  I used to run sessions that went from noon to midnight.  I’ve even heard of people playing a game session for multiple days.  I don’t recommend ever doing this, it’s very tiring.  2-4 hours is enough for a game session.

Stats:  AKA ability scores, attributes, skill points.  Whatever the game calls it these are the numbers defining the power of your character and are typically added to your rolls.  

TTRPG:  Tabletop Roleplaying Game!  The thing we’re talking about.  Somes games will be called TRPGs.  Fabula Ultima calls itself a TTJRPG since it takes inspiration from classic JRPGs.  

West Marches:  These are a specific style of sandbox campaign.  You choose a setting and genre, for example:  Fantasy and Middle Earth.  Then you just run games in the world.  They’re meant to run multiple games, systems, and stories that don’t directly interact with each other.  So you could have an adventuring party using Pathfinder, a fellowship using One Ring, and a group of Orcs causing chaos with Ork! all in the same game world but not directly interacting with each other because the game systems aren’t compatible.  This is great if you want to run multiple games/campaigns without having to come up with a new game world or story every time.

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Super X-Man

ok, this is one of those crossovers I have no idea why I don't see much more of. but have you ever considered the concept of Kal-el landing in kansas in the X-men universe? he still ends up with the Kents but him having enhanced strength and speed as a young kid makes teaching him to hide his abilities even more important.

now let's establish some world building for this fic. 1 most mutants only have one power. a rare few have 2 and mutants with 3 or more powers can be counted on one hand throughout the history of that world. Also the earliest the x gene activates in this AU is age 12. 2 Kal was toddler sized when the ship landed. it opened and he wandered a bit before being found by the Kents. Next day someone else found the spaceship and took it away. Kal is named Clark, and they never really knew about the ship. So, growing up, when his super strength and speed starts really increasing when he is about 10, the family think he is a mutant. The rest of Clark's powers start coming in at age 15. 3 Because Clark is an alien Cerebro does not pick up on him. also, I was going to play that up and that Clark's alien brain works so differently than human or mutant that Charles basically gets static when trying to read his mind. between those two things and him having Super strength, speed, heat vision, and x-ray vision by the time he meets the X-men he is quite the mystery. 4 This fic isn't based on any one X-men cartoon or comics. So it is going to have ages and the timeline rearranged. When Clark meets the X-men it is going to be a little in the early years. The adults at the school are Charles/Professor X, Ororo/Storm, Logan/Wolverine, Hank/Beast, and I'm going to throw in Forge/Daniel Lone-Eagle (took me a while to find his name) The older kid's class which is ages 16-18 and i'll call the A class is going to include Scot/Cyclops, Jean gray, Angel/(who I just learned his name is Warren Kenneth Worthington III), Gambit/Remy (cause I want comedic chaos), and Iceman/Bobby. The younger kids B class ages 13 to 15 Nightcrawler/Kurt, Colosus/Piotr "Peter", Shadowcat/Katherine "Kate / Kitty", Rogue/Anna Marie LeBeau (also just learned her name), and Jubilee. And that is it for the ground level world building. now onto the actual story idea.

So this starts with two mutant kids I made up called Clarence with the power of short-term future vision, only able to see about a day ahead. And a girl named Jade with terrakinesis (basically earth bending) that are on the run going from town to town and basically running a gambling scam with some stone dice. (yes, this is directly inspired by avatar the last airbender season 3 episode the runaway.) Clarence only being able to see about a day in the future helps him find easy marks for their scams but isn't far enough in the future to see all the consequences and they get into a bit of trouble which has them running into someone they scammed before while they are in Smallville. We will get to that in a minute. Before that they scam Pete, one of Clark's friends from school, out of an engraved knife that had been passed down through the family and he goes to Clark to help him get it back.

While trying to help get pete's knife back he accidentally uses his powers. Jade then gets the idea that they'll give the knife back if he helps them with a few scams they haven't been able to pull before. after a week of that Clark has had enough and goes to tell them he is done with it and finds them just as they are being cornered by someone they scammed in the past. Toad, and his friends back up friends Blob and Quicksilver.

There is a fight and Cark helps Jade and Clarence get away and now they are hiding out in kent farm barn. Quicksilver calls Magneto that they found some pretty tough mutants, talking about Jade and Clark, but need help recruiting them. Meanwhile that fight got Charles attention with Cerebro. So, he is bringing Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops and Jean to go help the two teens mutants and try to convince them to come to the school. But cerebro didn't pick up on Clark.

This all comes together with the X-men and Magneto's mutants converging on the Kent's farm. It starts out with both sides talking their pitch. Clarence is more interested in Charles school, and Jade is more interested in Magneto's point of view. Clark outright rejects Magneto and Mr Kent tells them to get off the farm. Of course, things end up with a fight, which ends up wrecking the farm, and both sides find out Clark had more than just speed and strength when he hits magneto with heat vision to get wolverine out of his magnetic grip.

the brotherhood of mutants are forced to retreat, but Jade decided to go with them. Clarence apologizes to the Kent's for bringing trouble to them and chooses to go to Xaviar's school. Clark is interested in the school for mutants but is more concerned with helping rebuild the farm. Charles knows Magneto won't back off from this young boy who displayed three strong powers and and he wants to help the most unusual mutant he has seen. (remember no one knows clark is an alien at this point, and assumptions are being made.) He offers to pay for the damages (which he would have done anyway) to help convince Clark to come to his school too. clark and his parents go inside to talk about it for a few minutes before coming back out to agree to send Clark to Xavier's school for gifted children.

and that is where I am ending it. What do you guys think should happen next? tagging my mutuals @confusedshades @emacrow @chaos-bringer-13 @bianca-hooks123

[guppybubbles]

Sweet Dreams are Made of This. [1/3]

(A/N: Kind of a sequel to my other fic, ROLL ME A 6 ! :> You don't need to read that though to understand this!)

Borrower Tommy accidentally shifts into a universe where his homebrew DND world is real. He still sucks at being a giant.

WORD COUNT: 1,341 words

WARNINGS: None.

"Tommy opened his eyes and what he saw was unlike anything he's seen before…"

Tommy listened in anticipation. What could it be? A new friend, a new foe? He looked at his dad, a smug little smile barely hidden by his serious storytelling.

 

"And we'll find that out in the next session."

Halfway through his sentence, he and his brothers already knew it was the end of their game for the day. All groaning and complaining about Phil leaving it in such a dumb cliffhanger, Phil only laughed. 

It couldn't have been hours already, had it? They barely started! He still had to redeem himself and his character into great glory! "No, come on, let's do one more hour— please, please?" He begged, holding onto one of Phil's fingers like he had all the power to hold him down and force him into another round. 

With his other hand, Phil picked up the die and tossed it into the container— folding up the map before putting it back in the box. Tommy knew it was over, they'd start another session again sooner or later. 

But he wanted to do another hour, or maybe two more, now. "Pleasee, I rolled so low every turn, I need to redeem myself!" 

"I wish we could continue, mate." Phil smiled, "But I got work tomorrow and it's already…" He stared at the clock, making a surprised sound at the 11:48 PM on the wall. Phil cursed under his breath, gently, slowly pulling his hand away from Tommy’s hold. "Alright, get to bed you three." 

The blond borrower knew there was no convincing Dad anymore. He crossed his arms with a humph, upset with his bad luck during the game. "Cheer up, Toms! I'm sure luck will make you do justice next time." Wilbur consoled, pushing his chair into the table and picking up the box with their fantasy map and die. 

“You are horrible at throwing the die for me,” Tommy grumbled, narrowing his eyes at his older brother who had offered to throw the dice for him earlier. Wilbur’s luck when it came to the game was pretty good, yet whenever he tossed the die for Tommy, the luck seemed to plummet- doing worse than when the borrower himself threw the die. 

In the corner of his eyes, he could see Wilbur’s lips press into a thin line. He was stopping himself from being amused at Tommy’s anger. “It really wasn’t on purpose.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy replied. Not upset at Wilbur, nor was he upset at the game. He swears he would be able to throw the dice better if he was just… more human-sized. 

“You’ll do better next game, I’ll make sure of it,” Wilbur promises.

Tommy looks at him incredulously, slightly laughing. “What, are we gonna cheat or something?”

In response, Wilbur shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Dunno, maybe.”

Holding the game board, he placed his other hand on the desk. A trust exercise that slowly grew into a habit none of them thought was strange anymore, Tommy hopped on the hand and held onto the fingers for support. He used to have to walk from place to place, no matter how far it was because the big man was too stubborn to accept and ask for help. In response, they all worked together to install little stairs everywhere so Tommy would at least be able to reach things without having to heave himself up with a rope and a hook. He almost cried in front of them because of how much he appreciated the gesture. 

That night, Tommy lay in his bed, uncharacteristically quiet as he stared at the ceiling. His room looked so much like a human's room- constructed by his family after nearly a year of accidentally revealing himself to them. It wasn’t exactly like him to be upset for the dice throws during the game, it really wasn’t Wilbur’s fault. On a good day, he throws exceptionally well for Tommy’s character too. 

But Tommy isn’t upset about the dice, is he?

It was never the dice, never Wilbur, never his family, but him. 

If he was truly meant to be their family, then couldn’t the universe make him human? Did he seriously have to be something that was never allowed to mingle with larger beings? It was a written code since the beginning of time that borrowers were never allowed to be with humans. Never share anything, what you are, what your name was. Most importantly, never be seen. 

Were they never supposed to be a family then? Did he have to break the borrower’s code just to be a part of something he’s not supposed to? He’s not a borrower anymore, he knows that. He barely even follows the code anymore, but he’s not human either. Too exposed to be a borrower, too small to be a human.

Then what was he?

Tommy released a loud, exasperated sigh. His calloused hands rubbed over his face. He knows he shouldn’t think about such things, but lately, he’s been more aware than ever. He notices how Techno looms over him when they do woodwork together, Wilbur’s singing voice goes from soothing to too loud, and Phil barely gives him any chores (Maybe he shouldn’t complain about that one, actually).

They don’t mean it, of course, they didn’t. They probably don’t even notice it as well. Something so small and insignificant to them could be so overwhelming for him. He just wants to be bigger, to fit in… 

He should go to sleep. He'll forget about it tomorrow and everything will continue on like it usually does (until the nagging feeling returns and he feels like he's rotting in bed).

Goodnight, me. Tommy closed his eyes, unable to rid of the heavy weight in his chest. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If Tommy could recall this correctly— and while he may not have the best memory, he can certainly tell when something is just plain wrong… He fell asleep on his bed, right?

His eyes blurred as he gained consciousness and though he wasn't aware of where he was— he could sense danger even from a mile away. His shoulders ached, raised high above him. Something was holding his arms upwards. Cold, tight metal gripping his wrists, uncomfortably pressing into his skin. He tried tugging it downwards, but it barely moved. 

Instead of lying on a soft, warm bed, it felt like he'd been kneeling for Prime knows how long. His legs felt numb, ringing uncomfortably no matter how much he tried to move. It didn't matter because he was stuck in place. 

It was hot. Sweat was dripping from his forehead to his nose and down to either his clothes or the floor (he made a mental note that he wasn’t wearing his pajamas). 

He sucked in a deep breath, humid air filling his lungs in a way that didn't calm him down, but just made him panic more. 

Tommy's vision began clearing up and despite the little ache in his neck, he decided to look around. The room was dimly lit, weak artificial lighting barely reflecting the big, metal room he resided in. 

There were mini stairs and platforms built around him. The platforms in front of him connected through the middle and had a door on each side of the wall. Above the platform in the wall in front of him was glass, he couldn't make out anything inside, it was darker than the room he was in.

The metal room he sat in was quite spacey. The ceiling was quite high but he couldn't stand up even if he attempted to— his ankles were chained as well, shorter in length compared to the ones around his wrist. Tommy struggled against the chains, everything looked so.. small yet so oddly detailed. 

Where was he? Who were these stairs for? Were there more beings smaller than a borrower? Prime, how would they even look next to a human?

Does his family know where he is right now..?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

yayaya thank you sm for reading! & holy shit guppy writing fics comeback??? no way!!!

[saphronethaleph]

Postgraduate work

“You’re in for it now, fox!” an amplified voice boomed out. “Come out and show yourself!”

Sonic sprang upright, going from asleep to ready-to-fight in moments. “Uh oh. It sounds like Eggman’s out for another fight!”

“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like to me, too!” Tails agreed.

He opened the door to his room, entering the main room where Sonic had been snoozing in front of the TV. “I guess we’d better see what’s going on! Maybe he’s got some evil scheme planned!”

“Evil schemes do seem like his thing!” Sonic agreed. “Let’s get this sorted out!”

“I wonder why he was asking about me, though,” Tails wondered.

Sonic was out of their house first, and he pointed at Eggman’s hovering Egg Calamity. “You’re going down, Eggman! Whatever your evil plan is, I’ll stop it at Sonic speed!”

“Gya ha ha!” Eggman laughed. “You do that, and your friend Mr. Prower will be sorry!”

“What are you threatening, Eggman?” Sonic asked. “You can’t stop me by threatening my friends, I’ll just save them and stop you like every time before!”

“This time, it’s different!” Eggman replied, then his voice got quieter. “Hold on, hold on, I put the script somewhere…”

“It’s there, boss,” a different voice said.

“I knew that!” Eggman griped, as the volume returned to normal. “Ahem! Miles Prower! This is a formal notice from the University of Central City! Your performance will-”

“Oh, I get it!” Tails realized. “Yeah, I should have known that was today!”

He tapped a watch on his wrist, and part of the ground rose up next to the house. It revealed a workshop, twice the size of the house, and a moderately giant robot stomped forwards to stand next to Tails.

“What are you talking about, little buddy?” Sonic asked. “I know this is Eggman so we’re going to beat him, guaranteed, but I usually have a better idea why I’m smacking him around…”

“Oh, please do!” Eggman requested.

“Sorry, Sonic, this is something I have to do myself,” Tails replied, climbing up into the cockpit of his robot, then flicking some switches. Four little mechanical bird robots flew out of hatches on the side, taking up positions to orbit around his main robot, and the whole thing took off as a pair of helicopter blades deployed.

“Aha!” the big man laughed. “Already, you demonstrate your ignorance of the field, Prower! Those airscrew blades might suffice for small distance, short range and low speed applications, but jet engines are far superior!”

“Au contraire!” Tails replied, spooling up the blades. “That’s true for a conventional airscrew, but as you’ll see on page five I’ve developed a novel form of airscrew that retains efficient power transfer up to three times the speed of sound! It’s based on my tails, naturally!”

“Grrrh!” Eggman grumbled. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m sure you can get out of the way of my Egg Missiles!”

A dozen high-speed missiles flashed out at Tails’s robot, and the robo-flickies darted forwards. Their wings unsheathed to reveal monofilament blades, which diced the projectiles to pieces, and Tails launched his robot upwards in a high-speed jump that avoided the detonating remains of the attack.

Not content with that, Tails slewed his propellers to slide left instead, then right, and finally stopped moving in a hovering position behind Eggman’s Egg Calamity.

“As you can see, the propeller system can more rapidly reverse direction, and provide regenerative braking!” Tails said. “Which is exactly as I outlined on page six!”

“Uh,” Sonic asked, raising his hand.

“You haven’t had the last laugh, Prower!” Eggman seethed, spinning his Egg Calamity through a hundred and eighty degrees. “What about control mechanisms! It would be a shame if you were controlling your defensive drones through something… vulnerable to an electromagnetic pulse!”

The Egg Calamity crackled and fizzed, then detonated a pulse of electricity. Tails’s robot also fired out a pulse of electricity, negating the EMP Eggman had launched, and the flickies flew into a protective position between the two battle machines.

“Phase-inverted pulse protection!” Tails said proudly. “It’s not just an EMP generator built into the Dissertailstion, but it’s also-”

“You called it a what?” Eggman asked.

“Okay, okay, time out!” Sonic demanded. “What’s going on here?”

“He doesn’t know?” Eggman said, sounding baffled.

“Hey, cut him some slack!” Tails replied. “He’s not done much school… right, Sonic? I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered you doing a university course.”

Sonic began to protest, then remembered that both the other people in the conversation were the smartest people on the planet.

“Yeah, if this is a college thing I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “So what is it, then?”

“It’s simple!” Tails said. “I’m trying to get my degree in Advanced Super Technical Robotics, but I failed to anticipate ahead of time that the only other person on the planet able to evaluate my work was Dr. Ivo Robotnik!”

“Robotnik?” Sonic repeated. “Is that his real name?”

He snorted. “Wow. You mean Eggman was a choice?”

“Insolent hedgehog!” Eggman seethed.

“But that still doesn’t explain anything!” Sonic added. “Why did he turn up to fight you, and why can’t I help?”

Tails shrugged. “You can’t get someone else to help with your thesis defence.”

[burningexeter]

Global Justice

Kim Possible & Shego Trivia/Details/Notes:

• Their first introduction to each other is when Kim is on a human-sized roulette wheel back first and the lighting of the lair changes to that of a cheap fun house with her purple cheerleader outfit and orange hair popping out brightly, she looks to her right to see a skeleton-type statue on a mini-throne opens up half-way and a pair of dice come out, hitting Kim in her triangle breasts. She looks up again as a shadow comes over and from Kim's upside down POV, there's a glowing black and green Shego in all her glory, a twisted smile on her face and her hands on her hips then says "Well, well, well, what have we here! Kim Possible huh, ooooo I'm really scared!" and as she says the last part up close, she sprays acid-like spit on a horrified and shocked Kim to her disgust.

• After being let go by a mysterious organization called "GJ" and being scolded by her mother Ann who was worried sick about her daughter's whereabouts, Kim heads up to her room only to her complete and utter shock to find none other than Shego in her room checking it out. Ready for another fight, Kim is immediately asked by Shego to calm down and that she isn't here to fight. Instead she's here to tell Kim to her face that she's the first person to ever do this to her — she impressed Shego, and as payment for letting Kim live and walking away at the top of the Middleton High School Auditorium from her plan, Shego will stay at Kim's home in secret and in-hiding from the Global Justice. A shocked Kim has absolutely no choice in the matter when her mother calls to her to ask if she's okay and she turns to Shego who immediately gets a smug but twisted smirk on her face and has the tip of the finger on fire.

• Whenever Kim's family are out or nowhere to be seen, Kim and Shego along with the Bebes, Bonnie and Tara usually are seen together hanging out in her living room with Kim and Shego sitting together side by side on the couch whether it'd be for their next move on what to do depending on the episode's subject matter or just hanging out and doing teen girl things.

• Since she was a cheerleader before when she was a teenager, Shego at times actually helps Kim, Bonnie and Tara out with their cheerleading skills. In fact, there's an entire episode dedicated to Shego teaching Kim how to be the best cheerleader there is and they both used the lessons they learned to defeat the episode's villain.

• This is the fictional hang-out of Global Justice, this is their version of Bueno Nacho from the Original Series. It's called "Twisters Burger", inspired by Quentin Tarantino's Big Kahuna Burger but made its own to where it can stand on its own. It's located in the lower, "bad" side of Middleton, California where Global Justice is set and is where Shego, Kim, the Bebes etc. usually eat at and it's referenced a fair amount of times throughout the whole series. Heck, it's where Kim and Shego had their first ever fight when the former finally manages to escapes in a throwback to their first ever fight in "Tick-Tick-Tick".

• Speaking of which, that's a perfect segway into what I think is probably one of the most if not the most interesting things about Global Justice that makes it stand out from the rest including its original series is that with most media, anything that's superhero-related, mystical, magical, fantastical and supernatural or otherworldly are always either in secret or hidden. Harry Potter, The X Files, Buffy The Vampire Slayer and many other animated shows as well.

But in Global Justice, it goes the same route that Big Trouble In Little China does where it's all out in the open, for all to see, no hiding or in-secret whatsoever. It's just in these places that everyone else including Kim, Bonnie, Tara etc. before the events of the series all pay absolutely no attention to at all. Literally, the only way to discover this should-be hidden superhero and supervillain world in-universe is to simply just look down an alleyway and that's it.

In the case of Global Justice, it's downtown Middleton, California, specifically down the corner or around the corner. Which is why you can see Shego and the Bebes hanging out at a fast food restaurant like it's nothing and the employees act like it's nothing cause to them it's pretty much nothing.

[happy-kiss-appreciation-week]

Happy Kiss Appreciation Bingo: Bingo Card Instructions

The 25th has finally arrived! So, as promised, here is the post on how to get your bingo card for the Bingo Challenge that will be taking place in April!

This is the bingo card generator we will be using. As you can see, the site itself has pretty clear instructions: make a comma-separated list of prompts, pick your card's size, then hit generate.

For the prompts we will use for our event, here are all the prompts we have for each category:

Characters:

Kyotaro, Ryoma, Nanao, Taishi, Ichiro, Ata, Maasa, Taiju, Furanui, Karurusu,

Types of Kisses:

Platonic Kiss, First kiss, Hand kiss, French kiss, Goodbye kiss, Goodnight kiss, Greeting kiss, Kiss to Shut Them Up, Forehead kiss, Cheek kiss, Accidental kiss, Kiss it better, Angry kiss, Sleepy Kiss, Drunk kiss, Jealous kiss, Quick peck, Secret kiss,

Things That Make You Happy:

Video Games, Cooking Together, Morning Cuddles, Gift Giving, First Date, Dancing, Make-up, Food/cooking, Sweets, Junk Food, First Snow, Rain, Thunderstorms, Sunshine, Laughing, Pets, Making a Friend, Hanging with Friends, New Hobby, Music, Stargazing, The Beach, Amusement Park, Going on a Walk, Exercise, Reading Books, Sleeping, Helping Others, Bubble Bath, A Crush, Sunset/Sunrise, Scenery/Nature, Parties, Stuffed Animal, Holidays, Vacation, Hugs, Favourite TV Show, Success, Seeing partner in the morning,

General Prompts:

Crossover, Soulmate AU, Hanahaki AU, Jealousy, Love confessions, Artist & Muse AU, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Only One Bed, Secret Identity, Caring when sick, Canon Divergence/What Ifs, Dreams, Love Triangle/Square, Time Travel, Stuck Together, Bodyswap, Aliens, Honyala Land, Hurt/Comfort, The Dice Game, Team Building, Matchmaking, Transformations, Magical Boy Shenanigans, College/University AU, Royalty AU, Coffeeshop AU, Superhero AU, Witch/Wizard AU, Flower Shop AU, Mermaid/Siren AU, Musicians AU, Celebrity AU, Monster/Creature AU, Fantasy AU, Fairytale AU, Roleswap AU, Fusion AU, Sport/Athlete AU, Roommates,

Kink Prompts:

Omegaverse, Lingerie, Oral, Roleplay, Chastity cage, Collars, BDSM, Virginity loss, Breeding, Praise Kink, Somnophilia, Costumes, Three(or more)some, Spanking, Thigh fucking, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Hair pulling, Semi-public sex, Exhibitionism & Voyeurism, Possessiveness, Marking, In the Shower/Bath, Fuck or die, Drunk sex, Aphrodisiacs, 69, Bondage, Orgasm denial, Begging, Service top, Non-con/Dubcon, Body worship,

Other:

Rarepair, popular ship, platonic ship, polyship, """problematic""" ship, minor characters,

-------

Remember that, if you want, you are free to opt-out of any prompt category or even specific prompts. Do whatever you think will be the most fun for you.

You are free to pick whatever size you want for your card as well. Yes, even a 1x1 size, if you believe that is all you will be able to handle for this event.

You can "re-roll" your card as many times as you want until you are satisfied with one. Either take a screenshot of it or copy the html code. Then post your card somewhere (doesn't really matter where, just needs to be somewhere you can link back to once you post your work(s)).

(While card posts won't be reblogged, do still feel free to tag them with the 'Happy Kiss Appreciation Bingo 2024' tag if you wish!)

After that, off you go to making your fanworks! Be they fanart, fanfic, gifs, edits, cosplay, videos, whatever you wish! And make as many or as few works as you want! A single fanwork can count as a fill for more than one square on the card.

Posting will mainly happen throughout the whole month of April, but you are still free to post stuff for the challenge after that as well. On Tumblr, post your stuff with the 'Happy Kiss Appreciation Bingo 2024' tag (or @ this blog since sometimes Tumblr decides to be Tumblr). And like last year, there will be an AO3 collection that will be made closer to the date of the event.

So here we go! If you still have any questions, feel free to send an ask! Looking forward to see what everyone makes in a few months!

[prima-materia-ttrpg]

How do Players interact with the world, anyway?

In my last post I said I'd either talk about this or combat. Well, combat's not here yet so. Attributes, Skills, and Characters it is. All-in-all, the fundamentals of how players actually interact with the game (and why they are the way they are).

Lots of ttrpgs have different ways of having players interact with the world. I already talked about dice mechanics, and how they interact with the Attributes and Skills in a previous post, which is the basis of how every system in the game works. I won't rehash that post here, so I'm mostly going to talk about the specific Attributes and Skills that exist in the game, and how Character Creation works.

The Attributes in the game are meant to symbolize general things about a character's body or mind. Some Attributes, like Strength and Dexterity, are probably in most ttrpgs that exist. Others I hope are more unique, like Alchemy. Skills exist underneath an associated Attribute. Brawl is associated with Strength, Metaphysics is associated with Knowledge, and so on. Anyway here's Wonderwall a list of the Attributes and Skills that are currently in the game.

Strength

Athletics

Brace

Brawl

Labor

Dexterity

Acrobatics

Dodge

Sleight of Hand

Stealth

Cunning

Animal Handling

Cooking

Glibness

Insight

Intimidation

Vitality

Endurance

Perception

Resistance

Survival

Knowledge

History

Religion

Machinery

Medicine

Metaphysics

Alchemy

Chemistry

Magical Constructs

Potioncraft

Spellcraft

Toxicology

The main reason it's set up like this is because I personally like the Attribute / Skill way of representing characters in adventure type ttrpgs, and it's also what I'm used to for the most part. The reasoning for tying Skills to Attributes in an explicit way like this is largely due to the kind of dice system that I'm using, which means Attributes and Skills need each other to work and you can't actually roll any Attribute on its own.

There are some skills in interesting spots, as well as some more enigmatic skills that I'd like to point out here. Cooking being a Cunning skill rather than a Knowledge skill was quickly pointed out by one of my friends when I came up with this list, and while I do see a world in which that makes sense, the way I personally cook is by "feel" more than following specific recipes. I like to make up new dishes and work with weird stuff when I can, and so Cooking makes more sense under Cunning to me.

One of the more enigmatic skills is Metaphysics, which is one of the fun "your GM will let you use this skill but only if they're cool" skills, like Religion and History. Here's the explanation of Metaphysics straight out of the PDF.

Metaphysics is your ability to identify and understand metaphysical phenomena, and your general knowledge thereof. This includes understanding and identifying bridges to other universes, what happens to spirits when they are rent from the body as well as what they are made of, and wrapping your head around phenomena and forms of magic that can bend the local laws of physics.

I will say nothing of Alchemy except that it is the magical skill and most of the skills under Alchemy are used in various Alchemical disciplines to craft very interesting magical things. I will cover this in excruciating detail in a future post, as it's one of the parts of the system that I personally am the most excited about.

Characters? In my Fantasy TTRPG? It's more likely than you think.

Characters in Prima Materia are a collection of statistics, narrative writing, and skills. - The PDF

We've already talked about some of the statistics that make up a character, being the Attributes and Skills, but this is one of the last things that goes into making a character. The first thing that you do when making a character is choosing a species. Each character also has an age, size, speed, and fine manipulators (Hands or hand-like appendages). They have unique traits based on what species they are as well, for example, Narud have an exoskeleton and thus natural armor. Ternaki are more resistant to diseases and poisons. Sepia can trick people into thinking they're objects. I think a fun way to talk about this would be to talk about how I made Dr Hugh Mann, the character that I'm currently using in playtesting. Dr Hugh Mann is, of course, a human. He gets all the goodies that humans get from being human. Actually, here's one of the unique traits that humans get because I think it's neat.

Social Creature: You may choose a creature with which you believe you have bonded. When taking a course of action to help or defend this creature, you gain a +2 modifier to rolls pertaining to that goal. During a short rest, you may socialize with this creature and gain an extra die to any one roll until your next short rest. You may change the creature with which you are bonded during a short rest.

Humans will pack bond with anything.

You then choose a profession, which is a suite of skills you can unlock over the course of the game. The current professions in the game are Alchemist, Magi, Martial Artist, Physician, Prophet, and Vessel. I'll talk about these in more detail in a future post; but a character's profession says a great deal about how they interact with the world. Dr Hugh Mann is, of course, a Physician.

After this, a background is chosen which gives you some more things to put on your character sheet. Dr Hugh Mann has the Carnie background, and this is where my imagination went off the deep end into backstory for him as a character.

Hugh, a he/him nonbinary human, traveled with a carnival for a while offering his Physician services both to the other performers and at a cheap rate for anyone who would come on stage with him during his performance. His act consists of dressing as his drag persona, Mel Praxis, and using his assistant (whom he may have just treated an hour ago) to engage in magic acts in which he pretends to cut them open with a scalpel and pull out, say, 100 feet of multicolored handkerchiefs that have been tied together end to end.

Mechanically, this means he has very good Medicine and Sleight of Hand skills, and while he's good at a few other things, he's fairly specialized into these skills at level 1, and there are several skills he is worse than bad at and will likely not improve much.

A few of my friends have also made characters that they really enjoy, including a Ternaki Alchemist who's in a self-imposed exile, and a Human Fusilier who worked mostly as a cook for their company.

Although the math and things are still being worked on to make the system work mechanically as intended, this is to me a very good sign. The system so far seems to make people excited about the character's they're making, and that was the foremost design goal.

As always, thanks for reading all this. Next week I'll will either be about combat or Ternaki lore (and mechanics). Contingent on whether I can playtest combat by next week.

I'm also working on a website where I can host the PDFs and some forms for playtesting, so that could be a thing soon! I was hoping to have it up today so I could release the Character Creation playtest with the Character Creation blog post but alas, technical issues ensued and things don't always work out the way I want them to.

[thesoundofmadness]

HIIIIIIIiiiiii it’s @mrfartpowered I just need you to know that ur band au is literally eating my brain. It lives in there, dude. It’s like a second canon to me 😭😭 the angst is SOOOOOO so so tasty I’m actually such a fiend for the tension and drama……and giving levander the role size he deserves ?? CHERRY ON TOP (chefs kiss) if u ever wanted to talk more abt that I would looooove love love to hear :3333

omg thank you im glad you like it so much <3 i have so many ideas for the band au that makes no sense to anyone but me

speaking of nonsense that makes sense to no one but me, do you want some randyverse ideas i have? here's some ideas. human nomicon my beloved putting this under a read more. i've been thinking about this again

I have a lot of thoughts about the ninja nomicon during all this

So there's 4 different nomicons. OG Nomicon, which OG Randy has. Band Nomicon, which is with the band ninja. Swap Nomicon, which is being evil in the swap au. and guide nomicon, which is with the guide ninja in the guide au.

Band Nomicon has all of Band Randy's memories, though it and the band Ninja are completely irrealvant. They don't show up at all. Guide Randy suggested that they don't get the band ninja involved in this whole multiverse thing because. what are they gonna do about it?

Swap Nomicon probably ends up teaming up with evil juilan to destroy everything

OG Nomicon has. absolutely 0 goddamn clue what's going on. Nothing like this has ever happened before. It's struggling Hard to comprehend that there's alternate universes.

It... doesn't really trust Guide Randy, thanks to what happened with Mac Antfee. Probably tries to mind wipe him every time he goes inside it.

Levander had no clue about the ninja nomicon, so when he sees OG Randy go into the nomicon for the first time, he thought he died.

i have a more specfic idea for guide au nomicon. here it is

So, guide au. a stanking happens, guide randy and the ninja go to investigate it, guide randy falls into the multiverse

While he's stuck in the band au, the Ninja and the Nomicon have. NO goddamn clue where he went. As far as they know, he's not in the realm of shadows, but he's alive.

They... really don't know what to do about it. the Ninja can't go after him if they don't know where he went. the Nomicon has NEVER had a student just. outright disappear before. It's had students do stupid stuff, get hurt, mind wipe, etc but never just disappear.

The ninja does try looking for him around Norrisvile, thinking the portal might have been like, a portal from the video game portal. but no dice.

Well, they can't just let Randy lose his job as a teacher. So, Ninja suggests to the Nomicon maybe making some kind of clone of him to pose as him until he comes back.

NomiRandy is. NOT down for it. outright tells the ninja to fuck off at even suggesting such a thing.

Ninja turns to the Nomicon and is like, "maybe you can pose as Mr. Cunningham until he comes back? I mean, if you can give Nomirandy a body, maybe you can give yourself one?"

Nomicon is... hesitant to do so, but it ultimately agrees to act as Randy. It shapeshifts itself to look like him using the art of disguise.

The thing is, Nomicon is a book. It doesn't understand human stuff very well, despite being filled of memories from humans. 14-18 year old humans.

Nomicon essentially just. gets into a bunch of trouble and pins it onto Randy's name. Payback for all the stupid shit he did as the ninja.

At school, the Nomicon tries to follow the Ninja around, but it's like Ninja: No, Nomicon you gotta stay in Mr. Cunningham's classroom. You can't follow me everywhere. Nomicon: ?????? But you're the ninja?? I have to stay with you. It's my duty to teach you the ways of the ninja. Ninja: I know, but no one else knows that. I know you're the nomicon. but right now, everyone thinks you're Mr. Cunningham. Nomicon: But... I have to stay with you. Ninja: I know but... look, just stay in his classroom until school's over. I'll be back as soon as I can. Nomicon:... What am I meant to do? I-I've never done this before... Ninja: uh... I don't know. Do what teachers do. Maybe grade some papers? Nomicon's angrily sitting at Randy's desk, getting anxious like it's husband just went off to fight the war when the Ninja is 3 classrooms away.

Randy's known as one of the cooler teachers at the school. He lets students skip in his class as long as their work is done in whatever class their skipping, doesn't give out homework, and is just chill overall. One student reguarly skips in his class, and they try to tease the nomicon.

Student: Come on, Sensei, aren't I you're favorite student?

Nomicon:.... you're not the ninja

Student: HUH

Nomicon acts stand-off-ish around the other teachers, which is weird bc Randy's usually friendly and respectful to everyone. It asks one student what it's supposed to be teaching, (randy teaches either japanese, english, or art. entirely depends what i feel that day), doesn't take attendance, and just acts strange all around.

Instead of teaching anything actually useful, Nomicon teaches the regular students some wild shit, like how to make a smokebomb or how to build a boobytrap. The students are absolutely down for it, the rest of the staff... not as much.

Word eventually gets around to the Principal of 'Randy's' weird behavior. the Principal is another OC of mine. He took over after Slimovtiz retires and is friends with Randy. Principal relies on him to deal with all the weird shit around the school, and they hang out after work sometimes. Dude has NO clue Randy's working with the Ninja, tho.

Principal: So I've been hearing some, rather concerning stuff about you these past few days. You haven't been as friendly with the rest of the staff, you haven't been teaching the curriculum, and I'm sure you know the rest. Now, I know you're not exactly the most strict teacher but... is everything okay? Nomicon: uhhhh yep!! Everything is fine!! I'm totally not an 800 year old book posing as my previous student who randomly disappeared and possibly died!! Nope, not at all!1 Principal:.... what -

Principal: I... hate to ask this, but I have to, just to be safe. You're not on any substances, are you? Nomicon:... What do you mean by substances?

Principal: Drugs or alcohol or anything of the sort. You've said before you don't take anything, but I just need to be sure. Nomicon: Oh I'm on all of the drugs *among us sus sound*

Nomicon's trying to act like randy based off of it's 14-18 year old memory of him. It's not going well. only reason he's not fired is because the principal doesn't tell the school board about it.

Guide Howard has, no clue about any of this. Before he disappeared into the multiverse, Guide Randy told him he had a work thing to take care of.

Howard tries to reach out to him. He tries texting and calling, no response. He goes over to Randy's house, he's not there. He goes to the school, only to find the Nomicon.

Nomicon... doesn't recongize him at first. While the nomicon sees Randy almost daily, it hasn't actually seen Howard since graduation.

Howard: dude where have you been? I've been looking for you EVERYWHERE Nomicon, leaning over to the Ninja: who is that

Nomicon tries to keep up the act for a bit, but Howard sees through it almost immediately. Ninja tells him what happened, and Howard is PISSED.

"Are you serious? He told me he had a work thing! *long, deep sigh* goddammit, Randy..."

Guide Howard is worried sick like a mom watching their kid go to college, while Guide Randy is totally fine, trying to learn how to dance in place of band randy while band randy is MIA.

I imagine the guide bros also have some drama to them. Howard's supportive of Randy still sticking with the ninja, but Randy pushes him away because he doesn't want him to get hurt, and doesn't want to be a burden on him. may or may not lead guide randy being corrupted later. who knows

i have thought about this. too much

[cheeto-flavoured-pasta]

I’m chatting with a friend over some cookies-and-cream flavored Pocky sticks when a crumb drops onto their leg. They pick it up and eat it anyway, mumbling about how it always happens. I agree, saying it’s kind of annoying, because I have to sit there and debate whether it’s socially acceptable for me to pick the crumb off my leg and eat it or if I’ll look like a disgusting freak to any onlookers. Then they give me this kinda weird look, one I know really well — scrunched eyes, furrowed brows, a nose tipped in confusion. The kind that says, there’s a person out here who thinks like that?

“So? Who cares?” They shrug. 

I think about that more than I should, to be honest. Maybe I’m overanalyzing, but in that moment where they were questioning me — questioning why anyone would be so hyper-vigilant about such a trivial thing — I… just think I happened to realize. Fuck, that’s not normal. And the more I look back and move on with life, the more I notice it. The panic that sets in when I’m in public and drop something by accident. The constant anticipation of waiting for someone to make a snide comment when I slip up — and the eerie feeling in my throat when nobody does. It’s almost like no one actually cares. Almost. Did you really think I’d believe that fully? Don’t get ahead of yourself; I’m not that mentally stable.  

It’s fucking strange. I could be dabbing up a bit of water in the kitchen and right as I head to the garbage can, I pause. Grandma used to lose her shit if I ruined a perfectly good paper towel — and, by her definition, this was still clean because it was just a couple drops of water. How could I be so wasteful? Do resources not mean anything to me? Am I so unconcerned with the finiteness of the universe?

Anyone else would turn their nose up in disgust if I just left the paper towel there, right? Even if it was just a smidge of water, it was still wet and slimy and gross and no good to keep around. I’ve stared at the garbage can for several seconds now, almost half a minute, and the kitchen’s gone quiet. Wait, no — the kitchen’s been quiet, actually. There’s nobody here except for me. Whatever I do, who’s going to give a shit? Certainly not the couch or dish rack. The feeling doesn’t relieve me though. Without anyone to judge me, to dictate what I do to every single last second… I feel a little too free. A little too lost. Even though that’s what I’ve wanted to be — free, from judgement, from people’s constant nitpicking that had worked its way like needles into the flesh of my brain — it doesn’t feel right. 

I forget what I do with the paper towel and go on with my day. Next thing I know, I take three seconds too long to find a cup lid, or a pair of scissors, or I fumble with a dice as it slips between my fingertips. The embarrassment is stronger than usual, but it fades now that no one is here to judge. The fading isn’t any better, because it leaves me with this sense of emptiness and tension that holds taut like a string wrapped around something twice its size. 

I wonder if I should tell all this to my friend. The tension, the knee-jerk reactions, the constant worries of what the imaginary people in my head and in my room will say. And I think I already know how they’ll reply if I do tell them. They won’t say it in bad faith or malice, but just… concern. No judgement, for once, just concern. 

“Dude, I think you might have a problem.”

[masterwords]

break another little bit of my heart now

Summary: Hotch & Jess in college...I guess? Hotch's dad is dying, and he's being sucked in to helping his mom out with preparation.

Pairing: none

Warnings: a lot of talk about death & some mentions of abuse

Words: 4.6k

Notes: Set in the same universe as We Shall Be Monsters, Emotion Sickness, How It Feels to have a Heartbeat and Hold Out the Palm of Your Hand...I'll probably create a landing page to pull all of these together when I stop being lazy.

**

“His name is Gerald,” she said quietly, rifling through her small purse for what he presumed was a business card. His feet were cold and he wiggled his toes inside of his shoes, delighting in the memory of his morning spent trudging around through icy thick mud at the bank of the creek. Their little sanctuary. Barefoot, he and Sean laughed and whined about the cold mud slurping up between their toes, but never once thought that putting back on socks and shoes would be an appropriate fix. No, they needed that mud.

Their father was dying, that they both knew though in very different ways. And they cared differently, too. Sean was ten and his understanding of the finality of death was shaky at best, but he was sad and needed a distraction from a weight far too heavy for his young years. He'd been watching their father steadily decline for years. Aaron, on the other hand, felt no sadness for the man's eventual passing, and he hadn't been there to watch most of it. The way he wasted away, the way he changed from a man whose shadow features and pinched scowl were mean enough to melt paint off of a brand new car...the man who used his fists more than his words...no, Aaron wasn't going to be sad. Except for Sean.

“I found a butt!” Sean shouted, and Aaron leapt up from his perch on a large rounded boulder and felt his feet sink deep into the squelchy muck. He ran for Sean, forgetting momentarily his nearly twenty-one years and reverting back to a youthful pleasure at finding the remnants of crawfish shells and interesting rocks. Aaron was finding more rusted out sharp-edged bottle caps, beer bottles and soda bottles alike. New and old. Treasures.

“Gerald, got it,” he said, returning from his reverie reluctantly when she nudged the business card into his hand. Zip went his boyhood, disappeared, turned to dust. Now he stood, a young man about to meet with an attorney to go over his father's will, his plans for the family's future, things he had no vested interest in any longer.

“Don't be late. He's expecting you in ten minutes.”

He was late, on purpose. Let his mother pay for the extra few minutes of time, he needed to walk, to get his head straight. That Mercedes in the parking lot, so out of place among rusted old pick-up trucks and barely chained bicycles had to belong to him, and inside he managed to pick out the attorney without any trouble. There was Merle and Wilma, seated in their usual corner (same place they'd been seated for the same Saturday lunch for the last thirty years) and there was Roy Brooks playing dice with Stuart Mason. He nodded to them, received the customary condolence nod back...the whole town knew that his father wasn't long for the world.

“Aaron Hotchner, I presume?” The lawyer stood and shook his arm free of his burnt orange sport coat, the over-sized Rolex on his arm catching on the material. Aaron shook his hand quickly, an impressive pump, a man's shake. His father taught him some things. “Have a seat. I already ordered...” That statement, pointed as it was, Aaron let roll right off of his shoulders. Yes, you've ordered because I was late, but see...I just don't give a fuck. That's what he would like to have said, but he smiled a little sheepishly and nodded.

And then he apologized for his tardiness. Like a coward, he told himself. Like a damn coward.

Aaron had known the owners of this diner his whole life. His grandfather brought him here every Sunday morning for coffee and donuts (or, hot chocolate in a coffee mug when he was too small for coffee), so he was never given the opportunity to order. Darcy brought him out a peanut butter milkshake and a hamburger with a huge pickle right alongside Gerald's full plate of bacon and eggs and hashbrowns covered in thick, yellow hollandaise. The richness of it turned Aaron's stomach. He'd never been one for that kind of heavy food, it never sat well.

“Your father's will is pretty straightforward, there shouldn't be any issue with execution...when the time comes...” Gerald faltered, and Aaron cringed knowing what came next. The backtrack, the sympathetic show of support. “I'm very sorry about all of this. Martin has been a good friend for a long time. I remember, we were on a course down in Palm Springs when he told me that Grace was pregnant. Never saw him so happy.”

Aaron tried to force a look that would read as anything other than pure confusion, but he barely managed just this side of distress. Gerald didn't seem to notice though, he'd said his piece and now it was back to business.

“Pretty cut and dry. Your mother gets the estate, of course, aside from the few specific items he's willed to others. Your brother Sean will receive the Cadillac, for instance. And let me see if I can...oh...” he paused on the second page and Aaron thought his skin turned just the slightest shade of gray. He could almost predict the next words. “There are a few discrepancies here I'll need to speak to your mother about.”

“He cut me out,” Aaron offered, stirring the milkshake with the absurdly long spoon. “You don't need to hide it. He told me he would.”

Gerald frowned. “Why would he...”

“I assume it was because I chose to attend George Washington University instead of going to Georgetown, but who knows. It could be that he doesn't care for my haircut, or perhaps he's simply telling me for the last time that he's only got one son.”

The conversation stalled there, and Aaron finished his meal in thoughtful silence while Gerald poured over the remainder of the will with a puzzled look on his face. “I'll need to speak with your mother before we proceed.”

“My bus leaves in two hours, I really should go get packed. Are we finished here?”

That was it, he had nothing more to say. Darcy refused his money, the way he walked toward her was haunting and eerie in its sublime quiet. No way that meeting went well, she knew by the way his shoulders slouched though he tried to hide it. He wanted desperately not to be disappointed in his father, not to disappoint his father...for some reason he still sought his approval...and the time was near enough now that he'd have to call it on that forever. There could be no hope of redemption for them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Emerson,” he said when shook her head and pushed his cash right back at him. “It was great as always.”

“Bless you, boy. Come see me next time you're in town, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

(x)

“Where the hell were you this weekend?!”

Jessica was standing there in the middle of his apartment with her hand on her hip, her blonde curls unruly and thrown up on top of her head. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks, stricken, his eyes flickering wildly toward the clock posted on the otherwise barren wall. It was a clean focal point in the midst of his confusion.

“What...why are you here?”

The apartment was chilly, a window thrown open even though it was a blustery windy fall day. He would rather have had the heater going full blast. The card table that he and his roommate were using as a sort of makeshift dining room table was taken over by a huge, messy game of Risk. He couldn't seem to sort out the scene, make it make sense.

“I called you three times on Friday, left you messages on your machine...” Long, rambling, urgent messages she implied but didn't say aloud. Some things were better left unsaid between them.

“Okay, well lets operate under the assumption that I never got those messages. Enlighten me.” He was, perhaps, a little shorter with her than he intended but he was feeling a little out of sorts. His weekend had been less than ideal, definitely a far cry from relaxing. The diner visit was one of the more pleasant bits, looking back. At least he'd had a peanut butter shake.

She only made that little irritated puffing noise and flopped down on the couch. His couch. In the kitchen he could hear his roommate Dale tapping away on the counter, probably chopping something...god, he thought bitterly, if Jessica and Dale were sleeping together he might have to move out.

“A pipe burst in my building. A wave of shit water filled the whole basement, bio-hazard central. It's shit show. Literally.” She smiled, and eagerly awaited his. He didn't feel much like smiling but it was kind of funny so she managed to get a little smirk out of him. It was good enough. “Anyway. They kicked us all out for a week...you really didn't get my messages? I need a place to crash.”

“I told her she could stay!” Dale chirped from the kitchen over the new sound of sizzling. The apartment smelled like mushrooms and onions. Dale was a pretty incredible cook, and Aaron benefited greatly from this talent. “Hope you don't mind.”

Aaron groaned but shrugged. “It's fine. You've been in my bed, I presume?”

She barked out a laugh and he heard Dale chime in from the kitchen. “Well if you're implying I might have slept in Dale's bed...”

“That's a big fat negatory, soldier.”

“I'll move to the couch. No problemo.”

“No, the couch is fine for me. It's only a few days.” Aaron realized he hadn't moved, the door was still open, he was still standing there like he didn't live there. Slowly he eased it shut behind him and folded his arms over his chest to stave off the chill of the place. “I would appreciate it if we could have the windows closed though.”

“You're such a wuss. Maybe if you ate some of this stuff Dale cooks sometimes you'd put some meat on your bones.”

“It's not even that bad!” Dale shouted, and Aaron groaned. They were going to gang up on him all week, that much was clear. They might not be sleeping together but they clearly shared one overworked brain cell. “It makes the place smell less like dirty socks.”

“If you did your laundry more than once a month, that might help the dirty sock smell,” Aaron grunted with a smirk, doing his best to shake off the filthy feeling of the last weekend. The way it made his soul ache. Jessica let out more laughs and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, beckoning to him, begging him to sit down beside her. He did so only because the blanket was enticing.

“So,” she said quieter, maybe so Dale couldn't hear on purpose. “Wanna tell me where you were this weekend?”

“No,” he replied even softer than her voice, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders and curling his long legs up beneath him. “I've got an hour to try and catch a little shut eye before my first class and I'd like to take advantage.”

“Okay. Okay...how about we go to lunch? You can tell me in the safety of our booth.” The booth, where secrets could be shared over plates of food. It was almost sacred.

He smiled and let his tired eyes drift shut. “Sure. But you're buying. I'm broke until Thursday...” He wasn't, not really, but the money in his account was money he refused to touch. Especially now.

(x)

“We'll start with a pot of tea and two huge bowls of hot and sour soup...” Jess said, already so in the habit of ordering for him that she didn't even ask. Truthfully, they'd moved into their apartments and found the restaurant that was the absolute closest to center for them to reach...and that was that. Chan's Dragon Inn, all decked out in jade tschotchkes and red vinyl seats and gold flecked everything. It was gaudy, and old, had a cigarette vending machine in the back hallway that was dimly lit, more like wandering through a carpeted cave that smelled like old ash toward the bar they weren't old enough to enter. Yet. Not that they couldn't have...this was the sort of establishment that might not care terribly much. Aaron liked the vending machine, though he rarely smoked. He liked to keep a pack on him when he felt too cold, when Jess hauled him to some concert he didn't want to be at or a movie he had no interest in seeing, it gave him an excuse to walk outside and have a few minutes to himself. It reminded him of Haley and Max and theater productions and as much as he hated the way it made his mouth dry and taste like rot, the way it hurt his lungs, he kept it up in small ways. When the future felt too big and he needed a little hug from the past.

“Okay. Give it to me. Where'd you spend your weekend?”

“Can we eat first?”

“Absolutely not. You went home to see Haley, didn't you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. She couldn't have been further from the truth. “No, I didn't. She's seeing Mark now, she called and told me that two weeks ago. It's fine. I'm okay with that.”

She made that irritated puffing noise again and bit into an egg roll that was definitely still too hot to eat. She gasped and made the sounds of desperation, her tongue now summarily burned, but gulped it down and tried to smile. “She's gonna marry you though.”

“That's still not where I went, so it really doesn't matter.”

“Okay, so you didn't go see Haley. Thennnnnnnnnn...you....” She had nothing left. Nothing she wanted to add anyway.

“You're so nosy,” he said quietly, defeated. “I went to help my mother with Sean.”

She rolled her eyes. It was an enormous, intensely dramatic display and he almost laughed out the spoonful of hot soup he'd just eaten. Nearly choked on a mushroom and gulped desperately while she responded. “She doesn't need your help with Sean. He's 10. By the time he was six he was practically babysitting me when I would come over.”

“Yes, under normal circumstances I'd agree...but our father went into the hospital this weekend. It sounds like he hasn't got much time left, she's already making hospice arrangements.”

Jessica briefly looked stricken, older under the harsh pendulum light dangling precariously over their table. Her eyes went wide and she seemed to be searching his own shadow features for a reaction, how he felt, how he was taking it. But how was he taking it? Well, right now, he simply wasn't. It hadn't even registered. Going home was simply a job. He made fifty dollars for staying at the house and writing essays while Sean did Sean things. Sometimes he even joined in the Sean things. He'd enjoyed their walk to the creek, the way the freezing water felt like it was burning his bare skin.

“Yeah, and she's also popping a ton of fucking pills...probably your dad's...and putting it all on you. Did you really drive all the way back there just to watch your brother for a weekend so your mom could go on a benzo vacation?”

He couldn't look at her, not directly. Not even a little. “I didn't see her for more than a few minutes, I don't know Jess. And I took the bus, if you must know. She bought me a round trip ticket. Made sure I got in after she was out of the house and left before she got back. I saw her long enough for her to hand me a lawyer's business card.”

With a mouthful of food, Jessica groaned. “Grace Hotchner, mother of the goddamn year. And then there's Martin, good ol Marty, why he's a regular old Mike Brady.”

The rest of their food arrived without them ever asking for it, and Jessica batted her eyelashes, winked at the waitress and offered a pretty hefty tip at the end if she'd kindly bring them two bloody mary's. If they hadn't been the only people in the dining room, maybe she would have turned them down, but those drinks with their sticks of half-limp and frosted chunks of celery teetering over the top and the mushy sour onion and olive sticks floating inside arrived at the table without any hassle over identification and birth dates. Aaron hated them...he wasn't even sure Jess liked them...but it was what they did. Jess threw a dash of soy sauce in hers and gulped it down like it was a shot, pushing the celery away from her face to open wide. She nibbled on the vegetables happily, sliding the olive and onion artfully off of the little plastic sword with her teeth. Aaron would nurse his until the ice melted and made the overly peppered concoction taste somewhat palatable. He didn't see how adding something other than water would help in the least. He wanted less flavor, not more.

“Jess,” he said, leaning back in his seat, head resting weary and heavy against the vinyl. The vodka was kicking in, quieting his demons a little, relaxing his coiled muscles. “He's going to die.”

“We all die.”

“Don't be a jerk,” was his retort, but he'd already seen it coming. “I mean soon. Maybe this month.”

“Yeah, and maybe he'll live five more years...maybe he'll die before I finish this sentence...I don't really care what happens to him. But I do care about you...”

He didn't open his eyes because then she would have seen the tears there, and he couldn't explain them. He had no idea what they were for. “I know.”

It wasn't just that he was dying, though, and if he dug a little deeper or opened up she would know too. That was too much, too fast. Meeting with the lawyer handling his father's estate had been his one task that had nothing to do with Sean, and it had left him feeling hollowed out. Sitting down in a little diner across from this man who looked like he'd been pulled right out of some mob movie with his burnt orange suit and his shellacked hair, Aaron didn't know what to do with himself. Was this his future in law? Cheesy suits and cheesier hair? The man drove a Mercedes, parked it right in front of the window so he (and everyone else) could stare in awe. The content of their conversation had been distressing in ways he hadn't anticipated, and he couldn't articulate that yet.

“The world isn't going to be any worse off without a man who turns his kid into a punching bag because he can't handle the stress of his life.” Good riddance, she'd essentially said. And when he did die, Aaron knew damn well she'd say those words aloud. She was tiptoeing around them now, but not delicately. He didn't mind it. “That last pile of celery chow-mein is yours. Eat it.”

“Celery chow-mein, celery in the rice, celery in the drink...” he was muttering, a distraction from the wet sound of his voice and the wet feel of his eyes. He liked celery, it was among his favorite foods, he was just...well he was acting this way to avoid crying. “You're trying to give me celery poisoning.”

“That's not a thing. Eat it now so we can go home. You need a nap, and Dale needs his ass kicked out of South America.”

“Yeah, about that...I might have changed my mind about you taking my bed. And my apartment.”

“Nope. No way. No take-backs, buddy.”

They walked back, trotted back, ambled back. Varied speeds for different areas. They always hustled fast past the alleys and across the busy intersections, but when they reached the path through a little park they slowed nearly to a crawl and listened to the trail their feet padded, the crunch of leaves beneath shoes, watched their breath puff white vapor in front of their eyes. She looped her arm in his first, then twisted their fingers and pulled him close. She sort of hated the way he'd weaseled his way into becoming her best friend, in spite of all their arguments. Delicious arguments. But this time she knew she'd crossed a line, and while he'd never tell her, she did feel a little guilty. For better or worse, he was losing his father. She needed to remember that.

“I guess I am a little sorry about your dad...” she admitted into the silent afternoon. He nodded. He hated this more than he hated how blunt and mean she'd been at the restaurant and the tears beat at his eyes again only this time they were icy and hurt. Burned in the wind.

“Don't be. You were right.” He paused, let the sound of footsteps spur on the rest of his voice. “I'm not.” He was lying, perhaps, but it felt like the right thing to say. It felt honest, the rawness of it anyway. Even if the words were a lie, the pure pain in his voice was as honest as it could be.

His father didn't last a week. It wasn't a surprise to anyone, not really. Hospice barely intervened, and his mother was begging and pleading for him to make the trip down. “Take some time off, help me,” she pleaded and it was the last thing he wanted to do. “You simply must make it a priority to say goodbye, Aaron. He's your father.”

But what choice did he have? “I have my Thanksgiving break in a couple of weeks,” he offered, a sort of peaceful middle ground. “I'm not dropping out of my classes to come say goodbye, he doesn't want to see me in his final moments. You and I both know that. But you can make me a list of things to get done while I'm home for break.” She hated it, left him antagonizing messages on his answering machine that Jessica decided were better off deleted before he heard them. She was there an extra two weeks, her building needed more work than originally thought. Dale didn't mind, he loved having someone to play Risk and Dungeons and Dragons and other horrifically nerdy games with, games that Aaron loved to moan about...though his complaint was usually only about the fact that their dining table had been taken over by these games and why did he (who paid a full 50% of the rent) have to eat sitting on the counter or on the floor when he'd bought that table specifically for food?

The night he found out his father had died, he was eating a pile of spaghetti with red sauce from a jar (Jessica's Wednesday night tradition, she may not have been paying any rent but she was cooking for them often and washing their laundry as a thank you) on a paper plate that was getting wet and soggy on the bottom. He watched them go back and forth for territory, calling one another cowards, and ruminated on the news his mother had shared with him. He hadn't said a word aloud, but Jessica seemed to know. The way she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, the way she followed him room to room. Making excuses to watch him, like he might do something. Maybe her worry was well-founded, after the things he'd put her through in the past, but he wasn't sure it was warranted now.

“I hate to be a buzzkill, but I'd like to go to bed,” he announced after hours of them playing. It was well into the night and he had an 8am lecture...he didn't care too much about sleep but he wanted to simply be alone with his thoughts. Jessica looked at him with that strangeness, caution tape invisibly covering her mouth. Dale cleared their game after taking note of where everything should go, a small concession they'd given Aaron when he begged to not have a game covering the table all the time.

“Nite buddy,” he said, and Aaron thought he detected something strange in his voice...like maybe he knew too. They'd figured it out.

Jess sat down on the couch beside him, impeding his ability to pull his blanket up, to lie his body down and stretch out his long long limbs. “Jess,” he whisper-groaned and she shook her head.

“Out with it, Hotchner. What's eating you tonight? You've been quieter than usual. Don't make me guess.”

“He died,” he offered without further prompting. He was too exhausted to play their games. And just like that, like flipping a light switch, the tears fell. A sob caught in his chest, and words failed him entirely but she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to her whispering something over and over in barely words. Ghostly wordlike apparitions, directly to his soul, skipping all other recognition. He knew what she meant without really hearing any of it. “I'd like to be alone.”

“Yeah, yeah...sure...” she said, kissing him on top of the head. Like a mother. Something he hadn't known in far too long. “I um...you know where I am if you need to talk...”

“I'm going to sleep. Thank you though.”

She wandered off slowly, cautiously, affording him one last look before she closed her bedroom door. His bedroom door. Sleeping in the living room came with certain drawbacks, like a lack of privacy, and she'd offered to give him back his bed numerous times over the weeks but he staunchly refused even though the couch was hurting his back and making him walk like an elderly man in the morning. Hunched over, but assuring her he was fine. And he was, mostly. Just the ghost of past injuries that made some things a little more challenging but a nice hot shower or his flannel Snoopy heating pad full of smelly dried corn always set him right.

A hot shower wouldn't fix the pain he was in now. Snoopy couldn't mend it. Physical pain was easier for him to handle, he could fix it or ignore it, but this was a fire burning through him and there was no way to extinguish it. If he thought for a moment about good times with his father...few but they were there...he wept into his pillow until it was soaked and then flipped the side. Then he'd think about all the ways his father dragged him through the pits of hell and he'd cry even harder. Eventually his pillow was a sopping mess and he had no way to sleep on it.

That was when he got up, without even thinking about it, and walked to the bedroom. Walked right to the bed, and even knowing Jess was sleeping, he fell heavy into it and curled around himself. The pillow was dry and that was his only thought until he felt her hand on his back. Silent, sure, she never asked him a single question, just put her hand between his shoulders and ran it up and down the ridges of his spine until his breathing, too rapid, slowed and the choking sounds gave way to deep, solid breaths. Maybe he was asleep, maybe he'd just calmed, she didn't know and she wasn't going to ask. She fell asleep with her hand warm and soft on his neck.

[saveourskinship]

15 Questions/15 People

Rules: answer these 15 questions and tag 15 people

Unrules: I don’t actually know 15 people. So I’m not gonna do that. I also might not actually answer the questions but just ramble instead.

Thanks for the tag @akorah  I’m procrastinating so this is perfect.

1. Are you named after anyone? Names are so weird, aren’t they? We don’t get to pick them and they just hang around for the entirety of your life and if you decide you want to change it for any reason there is so much PAPERWORK. I am partially named after someone who no longer knows who I am or even who they are half the time. 2. When was the last time you cried? Today because I accidentally created a painting spirit by being too in love with someone and then had to abandon said love to hunt the painting spirit down (it kept putting people into comas). The spirit trapped me and my love in a mirage and tried to burn us alive but my love saved me but he remained stuck inside the mirage for three whole years. We finally reunited at the Festival of Lanterns and it was beautiful. Tears of Themis is wild y’all. 

3. Do you have kids? No, I live in a tiny apartment. If I ever own a cottage though, I will buy a couple to eat the brambles around my hedge-witch lawn.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I used sarcasm to type that question. So no, of course not.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? If their eyes match their expression. Followed by where their centre of gravity is.

6. What’s your eye colour? Line 1, Verse 2 of Christmas Day by Dido.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Is this boiling down to Marlon Wayans versus Damon Wayans Jr? I’ve definitely seen Scary Movie’s more often but have been thinking I should give Happy Endings another go.

8. Any special talents? I can put my leg behind my head and can glide down a flight of stairs absolutely beautifully. Not at the same time though.

9. Where were you born? In a hospital room with ten very disappointed training doctors who all thought I was going to be what they called an ‘abnormal’ birth. They were rather put out I came out ‘normal’. If they’d just waited twenty or so years...

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, board games, video games, tabletop rpgs, assassinations, lying to people on the internet about how dangerous I am.

11. Do you have any pets? There is a cat which resides in my house but I live in fear she will get offended if I call her a pet. 

12. What sports do you play/have you played? That is a very long list and I don’t find it terribly fascinating. I would like to invent a sport, but... owning a team is weird, too, isn’t it? Like, owning people who run and jump and get concussions for you? You take their best years and they earn you money? It’s all very crossroads/brimstone vibes, huh. But if I HAD to invent a sport, I think I would combine the Running Man name-tag rip off game with handball except you have to play in bare feet tand the scoring area is covered in acupuncture mats (the goalies are allowed shoes).

13. How tall are you? 1 cat and 78 dice ranging from d4 to d20 in varying sizes. I tried doing dice only but the cat wasn’t having it.

14. Favourite subject in school? This does not specify which school so it’s a toss up between Look After The Penguin Chicks from pirmary and Sex and Sensuality from university. 

15. Dream job? The job I have most often in my dreams is being a pirate captain but my boat only sails through wheat fields. The hull (for whatever reason) is made out of sponge cake so stale is has turned rock hard, however whenever I try to sail my ship in water, the sponge cake softens and my ship begins breaking apart.

Tagging @they-call-me-megs 

[kissgoodknight]

witchy brainrot go brrrrrrrrr and i can't stop thinking abt this scenario i need to share it here

they're at a tavern. i think this is pre-bambilion (officially - maybe around when he's still trying to convince them to give him a chance to prove his love) and dande is sitting at a table somewhere drinking and probably playing dice

so there's a really common thing in the w.itcher universe where groups of people will meet in a tavern and just fistfight for money. i think at least half of them are drunk enough that that's why they even do it lmao but bambi is sitting off to the side, watching people be idiots, maybe eating smth while greatly enjoying watching drunken men beat the shit out of each other. they loudly make a jeering comment. they're a little feisty and couldn't help themself. the fistfight area gets quiet

all that can be heard, just barely over the sound of the band playing off somewhere else in the building, is a large, not-totally-sober man angrily challenging bambi and demanding a match with them which ofc they step to bc they're kind of a stubborn lil shit and ofc the sight of bambi - somewhere around 5'2, fairly lithe, and easily less than half the size of their challenger - standing face to face with the angry bastard catches dandelion's attention and he's like oh god oh no ahdkdbdjdbd

he wants to run over and put a stop before it gets out of hand and his elf gets hurt but he doesn't have time to run over and (heroically, in his mind, though in reality much more idiotically) throw himself between them before the man starts swinging

[mrwho444]

Well, about him.

Nickname: Perrault Sans.

Name: ???

Birthday: 28 March.

Height: like a classic Sans.

Personality:

★ Smart but quiet. Very careful in his actions. Thinks through every detail. Overly dreamy. Sometimes he can get lost in space, thinking. it's not because he has a bad memory, he just gets distracted a lot. Knows psychology. Studies the behavior of monsters during battles and identifies strengths and weaknesses, writing everything down in a notebook. He's neutral. He believes that balance is needed in everything. He knows how to keep himself under control, but there are shifts. Despite the fact that he seems to be overly kind, he is serious and can even attack.

He considers himself an observer. He likes to follow all the monsters and learn something new. With the help of his notepad, he writes down new information about the creatures. He is knowledgeable and knows a lot of AU. However, few people know about its existence. All this is because he is quite quiet, although he likes to have fun and meet new characters. But he himself has few friends, because he is on his own. He has a certain distrust and it is difficult for him to get attached to anyone.

History:

His universe was destroyed a long time ago. He doesn't know who could have done it, as the memory has blocked this information due to injury. However, the only thing he remembers is how Gaster, before AU was destroyed, gave him a certain notebook with weapons and told him that he needed to find his brother, and that he was still alive. After it was over, Sans woke up in the middle of a huge oak tree. His size was shocked. Perrault tried to recover for a long time, but soon he learned how to use portals and walk through universes. The tree turned out to be a power source for energy, and the feather as a kind of switch, and just with the help of all this, Sans could travel.

However, every time he traveled through the worlds, he returned to this magical tree, because it was the only place where he could feel safe. And he was waiting for his brother. After all, they promised each other that if anything, they would meet just in this place. And Perrault just waited.

Abilities:

Usually he doesn't like to fight, because he doesn't see the point in it, but if he needs to, he will, of course, protect himself.

★ Basically attacks like classic Sans. However, with the exception of this, new attacks appear:

— Feather-sword his almost the main attack. This unusual weapon comes exclusively with a set of notebooks. This sword can be transformed and even improved at the request of the owner. However, with the latter, Perrault does not know how.

— The gaster blasters are exactly the same as the classic one, one is modified by design: The pupils are completely different: blue on the left eye, and yellow on the right. It releases light with a blue-yellow hue.

— Normal dice are yellow during an attack.

About Feather-sword:

This weapon can transform from a huge sword into a small writing pen. The sharp sword itself is made of hard metal, however it can change the property of the material.

Interesting facts:

★ He hides his notebook in the fur.

★ The first person he met after the first exit to other universes was Froggit. Then he started writing everything down in a notebook.

★ He has a lot of fears, such as the fear of losing his mind.

★ Sometimes he forgets his birthday. It seems to him that there is no point in celebrating it.

★The only one he knows personally and can consider comrades: scientific Sans and Geno Sans.

★ Occasionally he gets melancholy.

★He is associated with the holiday of April 6.

That's it! I hope someone will appreciate it. It wasn't easy for me to create it....

★ Perrault is his made—up name. In fact, he does not remember what his real name is, as well as his brother.

★His hobby: writing. Therefore, sometimes he likes to write down descriptions of monsters in a notebook in verse.

★ Periodically, past events come to him in a dream, but he forgets everything.

_________________________________________

Псевдоним: Перраульт (Перро).

Настоящее имя: ???

День рождения: 28 Марта.

Рост: как и у классического Санса.

Личность:

★Умный, но тихий. Очень осторожен в своих действиях. Продумывает каждую деталь. Чересчур мечтательный. Иногда он может заблудиться в пространстве, размышляя. это не потому, что у него плохая память, просто он часто отвлекается. Разбирается в психологии. Изучает поведение монстров во время сражений и выявляет сильны�� и слабые стороны, записывая все в блокнот. Он нейтрален. Он считает, что баланс необходим во всем.Умеет держать себя под контролем, однако бывают сдвиги. Несмотря на то что он кажется, что он чрезмерно добрый, он серьезен и может даже атаковать.

Он считает себя наблюдателем. Ему нравится следить за всеми монстрами и узнавать что-то новое. С помощью своего блокнота он записывает новую информацию об этих существах. Он хорошо осведомлен и знает много нового. Однако мало кто знает о его существовании. Все это потому, что он довольно тихий, хотя ему нравится веселиться и знакомиться с новыми персонажами. Но у него самого мало друзей, потому что он сам по себе. У него есть определенное недоверие, и ему трудно к кому-либо привязаться.

История:

Его вселенная была разрушена давным-давно. Он не знает, кто мог это сделать, так как память заблокировала эту информацию из-за травмы. Однако единственное, что он помнит, это то, как Гастер, прежде чем АС был уничтожен, дал ему некую записную книжку с оружием и сказал ему, что ему нужно найти своего брата, и что он все еще жив. После того, как все закончилось, Санс проснулся посреди огромного дуба. Его размер был шокирован. Перро долго пытался прийти в себя, но вскоре научился пользоваться порталами и перемещаться по вселенным. Дерево оказалось источником энергии, а перо - своеобразным переключателем, и только с помощью всего этого Санс мог путешествовать.

Однако каждый раз, путешествуя по мирам, он возвращался к этому волшебному дереву, потому что это было единственное место, где он мог чувствовать себя в безопасности. И он ждал своего брата. В конце концов, они обещали друг другу, что в случае чего встретятся именно в этом месте. А Перро просто ждал.

Особенности:

Обычно он не любит драться, потому что не видит в этом смысла, но если ему нужно, он, конечно, защитит себя

★ Обычно у него атаки теже самые, что и у классика, однако появляются и новые:

— Перо-меч его чуть ли не главная атака. Это необычное оружие поставляется исключительно с набором записных книжек. Этот меч может быть трансформирован и даже улучшен по желани�� владельца. Однако с последним Перро пока не умеет.

— Гастер блистеры такие же,но у них иной дизайн: на левом глазу голубой зрачок, а на правом — золотой.

— Кости в атаках золотого цвета.

О перо-мече:

Это оружие может превратиться из огромного меча в маленькую ручку для письма. Сам острый меч сделан из твердого металла, однако он может изменять свойства материала.

Интересные факты:

★ Свою тетрадь он прячет в меху, так как ему удобнее.

★ Первый персонаж после разрушения его вселенной с кем он познакомился был Фроггит. После этого он начал исследовать других монстров.

★ У него много страхов, как например, страх потерять рассудок.

★ Персонажи с кем он лично повстречался и имеет более-менее нормальные взаимоотношения: Научный Санс и Гено Санс.

★ Он связан с 6 апрелем.

★ Перраульт — это его выдуманное имя. На самом деле, он не помнит как его на самом деле зовут, так же как и самого его брата.

★ Его увлечение: писательство. Поэтому иногда он любит писать стихами описания про того или иного монстра.

★ Переодически во сне он вспоминает о прошлом, но под утром совершенно не помнит.

That's it! I've been working on this description for a long time. I hope someone will appreciate it. Good luck. :)

На этом всё! Я долго старался над этим описание. Надеюсь, что кто-то оценит. Удачи. : )

[eurofox]

Lost judegment review

Finally played all the Yakuza’s and both Judegements, just Ishin to go. This was one of the most hyped games of them all and while it was really good, I think I still prefer the first game, not playe dthe Kaito files yet

Spoilers anyway:

The good shit:

The style switching was great. Crane actually felt useful this time, especially with the speedboost. I didn’t use Snake much as I found the timing with disarming tricky. Some of the best combat in the whole series. Far more fluid and less stiff

The story was good. It kept me invested anyway. The parts about the bullying were the most interesting,

I liked the Yakuzas references, like the Zhao cameo and talk of Daigo’s deal. It helps the world make a bit more sense without going overboard. I couldn’t work out if the first game was supposed to be the same universe, aside from onomichio but this confirms they are.

Skateboarding certainly helped with the size of Yokohoma this time around.

I’d heard complaints that the Kamurocho crew didn’t get much of a role here but they appeared more than I thought they would. Aside from Mafuyu. It was nice to see tsukomo coming out of his shell too. Bit sad to see Hoshino just get picked on nearly the whole time though.

Soundtrack is still pretty good.

The part with your phone being unavailable for healing after it gets snatched is neat.

Beating up teenagers is pretty funny.

That stupid mortal wound gimmick is gone.

As well as those fucking Keihin gangs

Dice and cube can be entertaining.

Dance class is funny as well.

Sega master system is a great addition

Fully playable sonic the fighters is really fucking cool.

I enjoyed the parkour segments. Pretty simple but a nice change of pace. Hell of a lot better than tailing which seem to be mostly gone (did they open with tailing for badness?)

Forklift Higashi

The game felt more like it’s own thing, a crime thriller with mor detective based gameplay instead of diet yakuza, which the first game felt like at times.

The Bad Shit:

I’d only recently played LAD7, I’m not the biggest fan of Yokohama. It’s so big and fairly empty.

Can’t interact with Wagi :’(

While the first half of the story was good, it started losing focus though with all the stuff about Public security and feels kind of rushed once they find Soma is a double agent. None of the villains feel as intimidating as Kuroiwa. The part about RK rounding up goons in one area for easier monitering made sense, but as soon as the stuff about pensions was brought in I felt it really started losing the run of itself.

That fucking bossfight  insta death QTE with Watanabe got me about 10 times, that drove me nuts. Same with the one during Kuwana’s, but at least he didn’t kill you.

I can’t remember if this was the case in the first game, but Yagami seems to take a lot of damage without reacting to it. So I check my health bar and see it’s suddenly way down when I didn’t notice being hit. Never had this issue before

Yagami going on about Sawa sensei is annoying but I do get why. What I don’t get is why the fact his parents were murdered by vigilantes is never mentioned as part of his reasoning for opposing Kuwana.

 Kaito is out of action for a fair chunk. of the game

Some ability upgrades feel pointless, like smoking.

Having Saori go undercover again felt like a  retread. Plus she doesn’t even bother changing her name, very sloppy for a dangerous task with someone whose supposed to be sharp. The bit with Hoshino and Genda was funny though to be fair.

I couldn’t get into most of the school stuff, might go back to it later.

Ehara suddenly losing his resolve when yagami was going to delete the video, turning the tides in yagami’s favour, felt like a reach...

Between the two Judgements, I’m going with 1 for the story, the ADDC storyline felt more focused, with better villains and atmosphere and I’ll go with Lost for the gameplay, fun and fast with annoying elements removed.  While I didn’t find Kuwana as intimidating, he was a very interesting villain.