#not which .. in any case i will not decide but a specialist will but anyways

[lovsome]

i think im gonna ask my therapist to get me an appointment with the private psychiatrist she suggested

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[solowinx]

everyone in the magic dimension has magical powers, including the specialists

a lot of fans tend to use harry potter/atla logic in winx club. in those universes not everyone owns magical powers, even though someone in the family does. i don't honestly think it's the case of winx club.

the magical dimension was created by the great dragon who brought life and magic. each planet in particular has their own magical power. so the entire universe is made of magic, right? then why should someone be powerless?? that's why i think everyone has magical powers, simply ppl don't want to use it. (they may attend normal high schools/universities instead of alfea) in general it doesn't make sense to call them humans since they weren't born on the earth. they are all aliens

big example are the specialists which is a weapons based squad. they aren't even actually completely useless in an universe of wizards and fairies! in fact they are pretty helpful in wildland episodes because winx girls can't transform. they are probably a special force, useful in anti-magic environments. so they decided not to use their magic to become good knights. in any case they need to be magical creatures since they can easily cross alfea's barrier (we should talk about this barrier anyway, since they don't deal with humans much who is it meant to be for?? i suppose some animals that aren't fairy animals, who knows)

in general winx club works differently from other magical worlds. in the most of fantasy books characters were born as witches or faries. instead in winx club ppl were born as magical creations who can decide how to use their magic. mirta in fact at first was a witch then she became a fairy.

to sum up winx club shouldn't be compared to other fantasy works because this universe works in a COMPLETELY different way

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Satisfied

James Wilson x reader

description - Y/n reveals some of her...hobbies.

word count - 800

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

(my fave Wilson picture!)

*your pov*

“Wait!” I came running in to see Cameron and Foreman attempting to pry the woman off the man she was ‘strangling’. I managed to pull them off of her, both equally surprised by my actions in stopping them. I also held my hand out to stop the woman from doing anything that would incriminate her further.

“This isn’t what you think it is.” I directed towards the two doctors, I then turned to face the woman who stood ashamed. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

**********************************************************************

“She’s his dominatrix.”

I announced to House and his minions. I stood front and centre as they looked at me in disbelief.

“They both participate in BDSM, I’m assuming a classic dom and sub relationship. Harvey clearly takes pleasure in masochism and she indulges this as his dom. Hence the strangling which I think she did to calm him down.”

The open mouths around the room could have caught flies. I was confused by their reaction so merely stood kicking my feet waiting for them to regain their ability to speak.

“I’m sorry, how do you know this?” Foreman questioned his face betraying his complete shock at my statements.

“I wasn’t sure at first but there was something in the way they related to each other and their stances around the other. Also I’ve seen her at a few parties.” I simply stated in response.

“Your life is amazing!” House excitedly added. “Now at these parties did you do any girl on girl action? Medically speaking.” He questioned me with a mischevious glint.

“I don’t know how answering that is relevant to the case at hand.” I teased back at him knowing he would understand the affirmation in my tone.

House stood up and came to my side before whining out. “Wilson is so lucky!” Like a child who was jealous of their friends new bike. I smiled at the mention of my boyfriend and then rolled my eyes at his playful quips.

“Anyways, that’s what I came to offer.” I skipped out of the room to leave them to their diagnosis.

**********************************************************************

“Hands up who’s turned on.” House asked the room once Y/n had left. He shot his hand up and was quickly joined by Chase. Cameron glared at him.

“What?” He innocently asked. She jutted her chin out and collected up her papers to leave in a huff. Glaring at House as well as she left.

“What a square.” House announced to Chase and Foreman.

**********************************************************************

*your pov*

I was flicking through my files at the nurses station when I felt a pair of strong arms embrace me from behind. James had his head buried in my neck and gave the skin a quick kiss. We were never ones for extreme PDA in the office, so the exchange lasted less than a second before he was around at my side to properly converse with me.

“You on House’s stroke case now? I saw you in the room.” James inquired.

“No, just had to offer some specialist assistance.” I sing songed back.

“And what specialist assistance would that be, my darling?” He indulged in my evasive responses. Leaning in close so our lips were ever so close.

“It merely involved one of the patients…specific hobbies.” I pretended to think hard about my word choice. I winked at him on the last word.

He took my full meaning and struggled to hide his grin at the beautiful and exciting girl he’d managed to get.

There was a tap on my shoulder and I whipped around and was met with Chase.

“Dr Y/l/n, may I speak with you for a moment.” He seemed cocky and looked between James and I. I decided to coddle his intentions and agreed. He directed me a few feet a way. James watched my retreating form and kept an eye on the conversation, not liking the look in Chase’s eye.

“I just wanted to say, y/n, that I have also from time to time indulged in the pleasurable acts you described to House.” He flirtingly stated, his voice a low whisper. He placed his hand on the wall next to us and used it as leverage to lean in.

“I see.” I could barely contain my giggle at where I suspected the line of questioning was going.

“So, if things ever get too boring with grandpa over there,” He jutted his chin towards James. “I’m always up for a bit of alone time.” He winked at me.

I let out a small giggle but quickly righted myself. I stalked closer towards him and I saw him shrink at my intimidating movement.

“Oh believe me,” I placed my lips directly next to his ear. “I am plenty satisfied.”

I strutted away relishing in his flustered state. I once again was in front of James.

“What was that a—” I pulled him into a deep kiss by his collar.

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 4, Mus Urbanus

Fatal attraction is one thing but stuck on a stakeout, a certain little mouse decides to push her luck with the cat who's been chasing her... just how far is too far, and how much more can they take?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Hahaha, remember how I said I was going to do shorter updates? Yeah well, I felt really bad for missing the previous week but I did have a lot of terrible IRL shit happen, so working through that was a priority. That being said, going back through all the amazing comments and everything everyone has written has been absolutely keeping me afloat! Thank you all so so so so so much, you will never know how much it all means to me.

There are a couple of Hannibal references in this part that, hopefully, will start to make sense by the last part of the story (which was, coincidentally, the first part written!) Not going to lie, I am just glad to publish this so I never have to think about this damned part again as I have been stuck on in for literal months. Also sorry if Soap's accent sucks, the only experience I have with anything remotely Scottish in the way of language tendency is my grandmother whose father was a Scottish immigrant and that's it.

Anyways, I hope you like agnst and interrogation scenes, because next week, König loses his faith in god and in mouse while tied to a chair! See you there!

❣️Cura ut Veleas ~ Caedis 🥀

PREV | Pt. 4 Mus Urbanus | 4.2k words | Mouse POV | NEXT

“Mouse?” A voice from in front of her calls out, but only after she deliberately drags her feet into the threshold of the neutral ground, alerting him of her presence. 

“Quiet as a.” She utters her usual response, stepping into the little flat in Buenos Aries, Argentina. She hears the smile as Soap sucks in a breath at her little joke. Her callback should be old by now, shouldn’t make him smile anymore, but he does anyway. He’s easy to get along with, something hard to come by in war. She crosses the minimal space between the two and takes stock of his little setup. 

For a mission, it’s luxurious. He’s sitting, in a chair might she add, with a scope poking barely out of an antique window on the 7th floor of an apartment building, looking into a busy market square. His arms rest on a table littered with little signs of life, a map of the area adorned with notes and coordinates in inexpensive ink, no less than 7 pens whose caps are chewed through (everyone’s got bad habits but this little sin of his drives poor Price up and down the goddamn wall), two disposable cups with sediment rings denoting how much instant coffee was drunk from them at a time before they returned to their places besides their drinker. Most notably, however, are two radios in a strange moment of near fornication– backs ripped open and wires crossed in an almost pornographic display of field ingenuity. 

Damn demolition specialists, she hears the echo of Gaz say in her head and she absentmindedly rubs the scabbed over cut on her left hand where the shrapnel of a certain someone’s frag grenade got her two weeks ago. She wants to be mad but-

“Hear any good ones, lately?” Soap turns to her, he’s disengaging from his post, changing his guard for her to take his spot, just as command ordered. He’s been in this little nest for about 6 hours and she can feel his desire to scuttle and tinker about radiating off of him. As he takes apart his gun, already aware and familiar that she refuses to use anyone’s but her own, his eyes shine to life. The color of sky blue permafrost, yet they radiate a certain lived-in warmth impossible to distance yourself from. Eyes almost like-

She bites her tongue at the thought. Bad time to be thinking about König… she mourns. But, speaking of the man.

“Yes, but it’s bad,” she offers, in fake warning as she sheds her outer jacket before moving to unhook the case that stands between her and the assembly of her gun. She knows the warning will only intrigue the poor pyrotechnic more. 

His smile is nothing short of sadistic as he raises an eyebrow.

“No, like, really bad,” she emphasizes, throwing a pleading look his way. His grin gets even more shit-eating-er if that sort of thing were even possible. “I mean it, MacTavish. Pass it along to your long-suffering Lieutenant, and you will be picking teeth out of your shit.” “I’m sure I’ve done worse to Ghost,” he supplies, rolling his shoulders. Yeah, I’m sure you have, she thinks but is much too self-preserving to say, especially aware that the Frankenstien’s monster of a radio he’s resurrected from two dead circuit boards is likely not secure enough to promise any real privacy. She would rather not alert Simon Riley that she’s become a dealer in his and Soap’s arm’s race of terrible jokes. He does not take prisoners, after all… 

“Alright, alright, just don’t tell him it’s from me,” she smiles, putting her hands up defensively in a quick jest. “Okay, play along with me now,” he nods along as he steps away from the perch and lets her take his spot at the table. 

“So, what's the difference between a piano, a fish, and a gluestick?”

“I know about two-thirds o’ this one.” 

Mouse trap baited. She smiles.

“Give it a go, then.” She wiggles in the chair, pressing her cheek to the crux of the sight and its metal holder. She sighs into the familiar feeling of control that settles into her bones as she hunches over.

“Can tuna piano but’cha can’t tuna fish?” He supplies, half teasing her already.

“Yep, but you’re forgetting something.” She sighs and goes to fiddle with the red-light optics extension, Command is confident enough in her abilities that she was specifically told to take it off for this one. She hears Soap whisper a quiet ‘oh shite’ behind her when he realizes he probably forgot to himself and she laughs a little. 

“What about the glue?”

Mouse trap set. Poor Soap, always getting himself into ambushes…

She smiles wide and hums remembering how excited her kitty-cat was to tell her this part. 

“See, I knew you’d get stuck on that one.” 

Mouse trap sprung. A moment of silence.

“Oh fuck me, that one is bad.” Soap chokes out a hearty laugh as he collects his discarded coffee cups from her side.

“No thanks,” she purrs as she finally sets herself into position. “Use it at your discretion, soldier.”

“Aye, that I will.” 

Soap goes to rummage through the kitchenette to her right and she takes the moment she lacks supervision to indulge herself. She does not move her sights to alert the man with her of the wandering of her eyes, instead, she scans windows and alleys without visual aid. The stale air threatens to choke her as she rakes over the golden-hued morning scene with desperate efficiency. 

After what feels like an eternity of stolen glances switching between her targeted area and anywhere he may be, she sees him. 

Technically, she has no way to know for certain that it’s König, she doesn’t have his usual wave or cheeky grin (affectionately referred to as a Cheshire Cat Smile in her own belabored heart) to alert her to his presence. That being considered, there is a masculine figure barely peeking out of a window into an alleyway who is just shy of 7 feet tall and his face is covered. Yeah, probably König. She smiles despite herself and her company. She wonders if he has radio access to her little hideout. 

(She remembers the seemingly endless weeks of his arrival to her perch. The early morning light hits the streets the same way it had hit the forest ground that day. Like a fairy tale prince, beseeching a princess on hand and knee, he would always somehow appear in her sights, nearly as though it was just meant to be! 

His form stands out tall and proud from its surroundings and she recounts every single reason he should not be here. By the third time their eyes caught she’d decided he was doing it on purpose, but she never let him get away with it without some acknowledgment on her side. She can only imagine that if she’s getting hunted for sport, her calling out his position will, at least temporarily, halt his advance. 

But by this rate, she’ll be in his mouth by the end of the year. 

His eyes are cold and bloodshot red. Painted tears lick their way down the hood she’s never seen him without, possibly a feeble attempt at impersonality? Maybe if he looks enough like a monster people will just trust their first assumption and leave him alone. But she’s never been one to judge a book by its cover…

“I see you, König.” She warns out to him. He stills among the foliage, bathed in sweet-honey-like warmth from the rising sun. He does not shy away from his imminent death on the business end of her rifle, of course not! Instead, he raises his chest proudly, seemingly aware that the loneliness in her yields to whatever greater magnetism the loneliness in him commands. He’s an enigma, it bothers her that of all the people to put the effort into finding her, it has to be him. Mostly she curses herself for promising him a next time all those encounters ago, if she’d known what sort of a game it would inspire in the predator stalking her like prey despite her flipping sniper rifle, she never would have said a thing. 

He may be in her scope, but he’s got her under a finer microscope to seek her out so faithfully. She wishes she got this sort of dizzying devotion from someone, anyone else. It is the third day this week he has found her.

What she expects to happen is what has happened for weeks now, 1) he hears her transmission, 2) he smiles at her as a predator smiles at pray, his eyes find hers and her hackles rise in utter terror, and 3) he hums to himself and turns away, self-satisfied enough to have won hide-and-seek for the time being.

That does not happen. 

Instead, König sits down, right where he is, and pulls out that monster of a knife he keeps strapped to himself. He throws it up and catches it without looking at it, instead his eyes are laser-focused on Mouse. This is, of course, despite the fact he should have no earthly idea where she is. He plays with his knife idly for what must be an hour, but she does not- no, can not- look away from him.

She remembers her trigger finger twitching with sinful power, she remembers choking back the insistence at killing another lonely person, devoid of their autonomy on a basic level when they signed up for a mercenary-issued ticket to hell.

She remembers hopelessness. She remembers refusal. She remembers the smile reaching his eyes when she played along with his joke. 

“Why don’t rats like cats?” Her radio labors out. 

She half forgot what his voice sounded like, surprisingly excitable and shrill for a man of his stature. Her brain stutters around the implication of the only words she’s heard him say to her since the fateful ravine that gained Mouse her own personal 6’10” shadow. 

She blinks a few times in surprise, genuinely pondering if her long hours hiking through the woods have made her susceptible to hallucination and general hysteria. She is not thinking when she timidly responds-

“Why?” 

“Because they are weapons of maus-destruction.” Konig replies like it’s not the stupidest thing she’s ever heard in her goddamn life. Perhaps it's pity at the memory of his discomfort around his comrades. Of the thought of the way he tries to make his body so small when around others (truly an impossible task he routinely fails.) Maybe it’s irrational fear, twofold and buried in her instinct to shoot despite the clear disadvantage on his behalf and her insistence that she does not do her damn job, or fear of the inhuman man in front of her stalking her through the woods. Or it could be discomfort, no one ever prepared her for dealing with whatever the fuck this is in basic training or field school. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what it is.

In the sparkling, decadent light of a sunrise, her heart hammers in her throat at the first joke he’d told her, in some strange and desperate attempt to fill the meters of silence between them.

She laughs. 

And he hears it.

And with his wide stance, his ghastly executioner’s hood in the place of a crown, and his knife back in its holster- his beautiful eyes seem to smile. Suddenly, his eyes look lived in, like someone has just put up new curtains in an abandoned house. His whole affect changes hinging on what was an irresponsible outburst on her behalf at best.

And for the first time, she does not fear a monster hunting her through the woods, silent and purposeful in his pursuit of prey. Instead, she wants to understand a man, whose eyes have lit up like a princess has just laughed when he kissed her hand.) 

Soap wanders back into her small perch with two cups of coffee and sets one down next to her. She takes a quick glance and hums with appreciation. He takes another sip out of his and she remembers that they’re supposed to share shift for about an hour before his rotation ends.

“You treat all your girls to coffee in the morning?” She quips.

“Only the pretty ones,” he returns with an effortless charisma and her breath catches.

Not because of Soap, but because in that alleyway, where she really shouldn’t be looking, she sees the uneasy rise of two massive shoulders and-

Oh my god, did König just… get jealous? 

The next idea she has is downright evil, really this is not the place or the time or any of that but-

Fuck it. She’s already flirting with the enemy, what more could this do? She’s already told the poor mountain of a man something dangerously adjacent to “God I really missed you when we didn’t talk to each other for three weeks like a horny teenager and by the way I love you desperately and think about you when I’ve got my hands down my pants,” and she probably imagined him tensing up, anyways. No harm, no foul. 

Maybe, it's dangerous, to wave a steak in front of a mountain lion, but what if she wants to get mauled?

“Hey Soap, what page are you on?” She says, putting her terrible plan into action. She sees him look up from his report, or more likely an idle sketch, on her periphery. 

“Ah, only the second chapter, did'ya move my bookmark?”

“Nope, the book’s in the leftmost pocket in my duffle.”

“Thank ya,” He says and moves from his spot to go fetch the book from it. She takes a quick sip of her coffee, delighted to realize he’s made it to her specifications as far as milk and sugar go, as he rummages around in her bag.

The impromptu book club started nearly eight months ago when Nova passed her copy of Emma by Jane Austen off to Gromsko to help him with his English. That turned into Mouse recommending the book Jane Eyre to Nova on the pure suspicion that she would hate it, which she did. Gromsko still needed to practice and enjoyed the spirited discussions so he joined the blossoming group with an English copy of The Doll by Aleksander Głowacki after he finished Jane Eyre. Never one to be left out, and surprisingly well-read when he wanted to be, Soap had pitched the idea of The Lord of the Flies (because to quote “Fucking Brits,” and he wanted to subject others to his high-school reading list.) If she remembered correctly, Farah and Reyes had also started sharing copies of books they enjoyed occasionally.

“Can’t believe it was Gromsko that put it in rotation.” Soap says, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Silence of the Lambs from the bag.

“He said he picked it up years ago in Polish thinking it was a cooking field guide.” She offers, as the man next to her idly thumbs through pages.

“Yer shitting me, yeah?”

She just shakes her head and smiles into her scope. Soap laughs and removes his homemade bookmark, a pencil sketch of a stake-out view somewhere in Mexico scribbled onto scrap paper. He keeps his thumb on the page and flips through to where hers is, much further along.

“Yer a right romantic, ain’cha Bonnie?” Soap laughs somewhere between the pages and somewhere behind her. “Hmm?” 

“This part, that’ya highlighted,” she hears a well-meaning sneer in his words. “The one you put the hearts by and everything…”

Mouse’s mouth tethers itself into a terse line and she attempts her best noncommittal shrug. 

Somewhere in her line of sight, a mountain shrugs himself chuckling lightly. She wonders what it would feel like, to lay on his broad, muscled chest as he laughs, how closely he would hold her, how she could rest entirely on top of his chest and not touch the ground beneath them and-

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She lies through her teeth. Soap’s laugh behind her is loud and proud. Suddenly, his casual sadism isn’t so amusing when turned around on her. 

“Do you think it's because I like to look at you and think about eating you up—“ he reads from the book, voice dripping in mock chivalry and breathless romanticism. “About how you would taste?"

She feels her cheeks and ears heat up as Soap loudly proclaims her funeral to all those who may care, and she doesn’t miss the way König leans a little too close to his radio as he goes about mocking her. His stance shifts as if he hangs on the very words like he’s found a secret buried deep in her subconscious. Technically, she has no way of knowing, but Mouse knows in her heart that König is smiling. At least someone is having fun. 

Once Soap comes down from his laughing fit he puts her bookmark back to its spot and talks at the back of her head. 

“With your pressed flower bookmark and everything. Oh, it would be sweet if he wasn’t Hannibal the Cannibal.” Soap hisses out. “I always figured you were…” he pauses searching for the right word, “adventurous from how Gromsko talks bout ya, but seriously cannibalism?”

If she’s not mistaken, König’s hand grips ever so slightly tighter on the radio attached to the best. Maybe the battle plan has to change, but she’s still got some ideas. 

Soap is completely oblivious to the electricity licking up the air between her perch and one man on the ground. He looks around frantically, seemingly desperate to find her, and look in her eyes. Mouse is a sniper, she really should hate the attention, but something fatalistic descends into her smile as she lets Soap continue his little outburst. 

“I swear. You and him, yer sure there’s nothing there? He’s even given you special field medicine lessons, no one gets treatment like that from Gromsko.”

“His name is Sobieslaw.” Notably, it is not a denial. Technically, everything that’s just been said is the truth. 

König’s shoulders rise. 

He looks right down her site. 

She smiles. 

Come and get me, kitty-cat. 

“See! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re the only person who calls him by his first name.”

“Because you never put in the effort to learn it.”

“That don’t mean a thing since I don’t have tits.” 

“You do, just not as good as mine.”

“Aye, off it. Gromsko is into you.” She can hear from the way Soap’s voice carries haphazardly around the room that he is pacing and talking with his hands. She doesn’t turn her back, gaze still fixated on the looming shadow in her sights. Soap continues, entirely unaware of the exact type of beast he is tempting. “He swaggers around you, never even bothers to fucking ask to pick up your boxes, he just does it. His voice gets all soft around ya, too, like he’s cooing at a goddamn pet animal or something. He nearly got into an actual pissing contest with Ghost the other day when he bitched about you beating him in poker. Face the facts, Bonnie, he wants you.” 

König’s eyes have focused with the ferocity of an apex predator and his chest labors out concentrated and sharp inhales and exhales. He resembles a recently sharpened knife, desperate for some carnage after a particular kind of attention. His body is crumpled in on itself not unlike a cat getting ready to pounce. His heels dig desperately into the cobblestones beneath his feet. His hand flicks out his beloved Glock field knife with all the reverence of a praying man.

In short, he looks every part like he does in immediate battle. He looks like he did the split second before he started sprinting for her in the snowy woods, the scene that occupies her lonely nights when she tries in complete vanity to recreate the feel of his hands cradling her sides.

Mouse should be scared of König.

Instead, she sees before her a scene of complete and hopeless adoration focused so intently on her alone that she should be afraid of. Realistically, she recognizes the clear and present danger of the moment. Is König upset at her? At Soap? At a potential adversarial suitor by way of Gromsko? She doesn’t quite know, but after a career of intentionally hiding like a coward, she basks infatuated by the calamitous captivation he exhibits.

He looks like he wants to maul something to death.

As keen as she is on getting him close enough to try to get over to her (and ideally, throw her under him,) in her infinite mercy, Mouse decides the teasing has gone on long enough.

“I like Gromsko just fine, but not like that.” Soap audibly scoffs and König’s entire form relaxes. Both men mutter something to themselves before an encore of gunfire breaks out. Mouse’s heart stutters to a stop when her radio comes in.

“Visual on Gaz, he’s hit!” Nova calls out, clearly alarmed. Soap grabs for the radio right next to Mouse and brings it to his face, holding onto a few loose wires as he does to ensure the amalgamation does not fall apart in his fingers.

“Where is he?”

“Two blocks from south from you, Gromsko is a click out.”

Soap looks at Mouse with his heart bobbing in his throat. The pain and worry on his face is palpable.

“Go.” She says. Soap looks around frantically at their supplies, seemingly taking a split second worth of inventory, making as many life-or-death decisions as he can in such little time.

“Soap, listen to me,” Mouse soothes. “I keep overwatch, you take my TAC vest and stabilize him until he can get a medic.”

“Mouse, I can’t just leave you-” “You can, and you will. Go.” She says with all the finality of a door slamming shut. Soap doesn’t look at her again as he gathers her supplies and nearly sprints downstairs. 

Soap leaves. Quickly. Quietly. He never looks back.

Her stomach settles into discomfort and she looks through the door he closed with the same sad nostalgia she looked through falling snow and monumentous trees. She can’t help but think she would not get the same priority in Gaz’s situation. Like some terrible premonition, she imagines bleeding out on the ground as Soap turns away, never once looking back.

Would König come for me? She ponders, before she smothers the paranoia-induced delusion with the memory of his large hands on her sides. She looks down at her shoelace, where she carved a cylindrical hole through his effigy to attach it. The birchwood mouse carving that sleeps at her right toe gives a silent reassurance: he never really left you, did he?

By the time she looks back into her scope, in between the all-too-familiar white noise of war that’s broken out around her, she sees a shadow dart out from the alleyway one down from where König is. The figure is cloaked in the specific type of military fatigue denoting his affiliation, one that is unluckily for him, kill on sight. It ducks behind the building to the right, where König is. It stalks out, lining itself up behind the hooded man, brandishing a drawn pistol.

König doesn’t have the time to react to the blood spray that litters across his back from the other man’s head once Mouse pulls the trigger on her gun, silently thankful (as awful as it is,) that Gaz getting hurt allowed her to take the shot without Soap inquiring into her actions. (But maybe it’s her fault in the first place that König was distracted enough to allow someone to get the drop on him…)

König looks back towards her and his head lulls to the side like a heavy flower bloom weighed down by morning dew. His eyes, somehow the softest she’s ever seen, are also carving a large chunk of her soul like a knife cuts through soft wood. When he lifts his hood to blow a kiss to her, she knows she will never get her traitorous heart back.

“Danke, mein Engel,” the radio on her table whispers in his voice.

“It’s only fair. I did owe you, after all.” She responds, all together unconcerned with whether or not he can hear her. She smiles, thankful she can see those bright eyes another day. 

When he turns away, she feels her entire heart walk away with him. With every step of his fleeting form, she feels less and less herself, as though someone had separated her shadow from where it meets her feet. Something has changed in the air between them, a sad resignation settles into her trigger finger when she releases it.

For the first time, she does not feel as though she wouldn’t run if he took her, but rather that some integral part of her is with him as he leaves. 

All is fair in love and war, but she’s not sure just how much longer she can stand to play cat and mouse.

taglist!

@kneelingshadowsalome @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar @berryjuicyy @haisebo @crowbird

And special thanks to @bucca2 and @ivymarquis for finally kicking my ass into gear to write this. Can't wait to read yall's WIPs!

[the-oc-lass]

EVERYONE WHO MISSES TECH, PLEASE STAND

Because Dave Filoni really looked at us and said “FUCK YOUR TECH DREAMS!”

Tech did not return and I am screaming.

Anyway, please enjoy Tech and a Baby

Crosshair and a Baby

Wrecker and a Baby

Gregor and a Baby

Echo and a Baby

Full fic below the cut in case you don't want to go to Ao3:

Tech isn’t what you would call a “baby guy.” Babies are illogical and can’t be reasoned with. At least once they reach a certain age, you can start communicating and getting some understanding out of them. Unfortunately for Tech, baby Echo “Ec” Yothia is still just that: a baby. None of this is to say that Tech doesn’t love Ec because, no, no, he does. He just tends to find himself a little…Uncertain when it comes to the child. He prefers to simply observe others interacting with him rather than truly engaging with the child himself. 

So, of course, he would find himself in this situation. Ec’s mother, Rayona, has been working herself incredibly hard for the clone rebellion. As the acting pseudo-General and one of two resident Jedi, she takes what she does very seriously. She’s worked herself so hard, in fact, that Echo, as their resident Rayona-specialist, has taken it upon himself to start enforcing nap times for her. This is fine. Usually, it’s Echo or one of the other Bad Batch squad members that sit or lay with her to make sure she actually rests, some even resorting to lying on top of her. The problem is, Rex has Hunter and Wrecker helping him with a job and Crosshair is preoccupied with Omega. Apparently, Rayona is extra unwilling today, so Echo said it would be best for him to enforce nap time. Which leaves Tech with the baby. 

“Are you absolutely certain that you cannot come and watch over him? I am not equipt for the caretaking of an infant,” he says into his comm. He can hear Crosshair laughing on the other side of the transmission, but it’s Omega who answers. 

“Sorry, Tech. Crosshair and I are busy with Plaa and Ky right now.” Ah, of course. Rayona’s Jedi friend and her padawan/adopted daughter. Crosshair has taken a rather keen interest in them. “Have you asked any of the others?” 

“I have accounted for everyone else in the base. They are all either busy or not currently able to properly watch over Ec. While I am not equipped to care for him, I will not pass Ec off to someone who has more pressing matters to attend to. His safety is prioritized over my own comfort,” Tech says. He adjusts his goggles slightly. “I will attend to him. Thank you for your help, Omega.” 

“Good luck, Tech!” With that cheerful send-off, Omega is gone and Tech is once again alone with his thoughts and the infant. Ec stares up at him with big brown eyes, taking a moment before he smiles and reaches up toward Tech’s face, gurgling. His hand waves toward Tech’s eyes in particular, and Tech quickly deduces that he must be able to see his reflection in Tech’s goggles. He shifts the child away slightly, hoping to avoid getting any small fingerprints on his goggles. After taking a few moments to consider what he could possibly do with the child, he comes up with an idea. 

For the time being, Tech sets up Ec’s feeding chair near his workstation and places Ec in it. This will allow him to monitor the child but will prevent Ec from possibly grabbing something he shouldn’t. With Ec out of his lap for the moment, Tech is able to work on his latest project. It is, however, a project for Ec. A common problem is that Ec constantly needs to be held since there aren’t many good places to put him down. Tech has been working on a solution for that. Simply put, a hovering pram for Ec to rest in. It would make it easier to transport him around while still having one’s arms free. Tech decided to fit it with an energy shield, should the day ever come when they need to move the baby through an active battlefield. He also asked about mounting small automatic turrets to shoot anyone not in a specific scan-related database, but Rayona had very quickly nixed that idea. Despite his well-cited argument about the turrets keeping Ec safe, she’d argued that it was “too dangerous” for the rest of them. A rather preposterous concern, if you ask Tech, but he went along with Rayona’s wishes. She is Ec’s mother and Tech respects her too much to go against her will. It’s easy for him to focus all his attention on the project in front of him…At first. After approximately three minutes and thirty-six seconds, Ec begins to babble. Tech ignores him at first. He can’t expect the infant to be quiet, after all. They’re only quiet when they sleep. However, it quickly becomes clear that Ec is seeking attention and Tech looks over at him. 

“Yes?” he prompts, though he knows Ec won’t respond. Ec giggles and smiles at him, and Tech adjusts his goggles as he considers what to do. Ec seemed pleased that Tech spoke to him, which makes sense considering that infants recognize the sounds of speech. After Rayona had Ec, Tech also read that speaking to infants helps their cognitive development, meaning they’re able to acquire speech and language skills sooner. Perhaps he could help move that process along. Yes, that solution will do nicely. Tech pulls the feeding chair a little closer to his side, turning it slightly so that Ec can watch him work. “Now, Ec, while I understand that you do not currently have the capacity to understand me, I assure you that listening to me will help with your mental development. Now, as you can see, I’m currently wiring together the necessary controls to activate and deactivate the energy shield over the body of the pram. Once that is complete I will finish calibrating the repulsorlift and set it to the inner shell, which will allow your pram to hover, therefore making you easier to transport. I should also incorporate a sensor so that the pram can be summoned from a distance, and the sensor can be synced to your mother and-” 

“Why are you sayin’ all that to him?” Tech lifts his head from his work, turning to look over his shoulder. Ah, it seems that Wrecker and Hunter have returned. Tech adjusts his goggles again. 

“I had read that speaking to an infant helps with their mental development, especially when it pertains to speech skills,” he says. Wrecker blinks, clearly confused, and Tech sighs. “If I continue to talk to Ec, it is likely that he will learn to talk more quickly.” Now Wrecker’s eyes widen with understanding. 

“Oh. I get it. But why all that…Smart stuff? Doesn’t he want to hear about baby stuff?” he asks. Tech glances at Ec, who he finds looking back at him. When Tech’s eyes land on him, Ec smiles and babbles slightly. Tech smiles slightly in satisfaction before looking back at Wrecker.

“I believe my ‘smart stuff’ is plenty entertaining for Ec. Perhaps he will retain some of it and someday have an intellect matching my own,” he says, perhaps just a little proudly. Hunter appears at Wrecker’s side, helmet held against his hip. 

“Does that mean you don’t want us to take him? Omega mentioned that you weren’t sure what to do with him,” he says. Tech once again looks down at Ec, who is still smiling at him. 

“No. He may remain with me,” he says after a moment. Hunter shrugs, then gestures to Wrecker with his head. The two leave and Tech turns back to his project, though not without briefly brushing some of Ec’s hair back. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I should consider making some sort of gauntlet or chip to ensure that your pram can be summoned to…”

[generalidiocy]

WARNING - LONG POST: Case #0191704

Statement of William Smith, regarding his family business

My family runs the Caravan Hutch, over in Barnet, Northwest London. I doubt you’ll have heard of us, we’re not a chain, and even then we’re specialist. We deal, unsurprisingly, with caravans. We buy them off people, clean them up and refurbish them, then sell them, good as new! Almost… People love it in the shop. I think it’s Father’s warm personality. He’s always been charismatic. Whenever I ask him his secrets, he praises the ancestors who began the shop. “We have them to thank”, he would reply.

The shop has been the same since it was started. We have a desk, and three chairs, and diagrams of the various models and prices. The front of the shop has no windows, Father says that’s to allow the customers to be surprised as they step through the door. However there is a sign declaring:

"CARAVAN HUTCH – WHERE WE BUY YOUR CARAVANS

COME ON IN, SELL ALL THE CARAVANS YOU HAVE"

The caravans themselves are stored in a warehouse a mile to the west. We visit them every other day, after work, to make sure everything’s ticking over, and to repair any caravans that need it. John was always good at that. The mechanics work, that is.

Anyway, like I said, it’s a family business, my Father inherited it from his Father, who inherited it from his Father, and so on. It goes back for “as long as there have been caravans to sell”, which isn’t actually that far. Caravans only came to England at the end of the 19th century, but according to my Father we’ve been here hundreds of years. Then again Father does love to tell tall tales. He once remarked that his Father had “the most remarkable teeth I’ve ever worn!” I still don’t know what that means. I never knew my Grandad. He died not long after we were born, which I presume was why Father was sad when me and John were small. We couldn’t fill the hole grandad left when we were that small.

We are twins, both born at the same time. Father was so cross with Mother. He said she had “shamed the family name”. But he never stays cross for long. He told her she could repay him soon enough. I doubt she ever got round to it, though.

A week later, I woke up from a nightmare. I don’t remember most of it, but the image of Father’s face from that dream is forever burned into mine. I was him, but he was… angry. And in pain. His features were contorted almost beyond recognition, but I knew it was my Father. His eyes were completely scrunched, and he looked like he was screaming. I couldn’t hear him though. He was silent. I wasn’t though. I was screaming.

I woke up to see my brother, lying still on his bed at the other end of the room. Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t wake him up with my crying. Perhaps he was ignoring me. He’d been weird for a while. Quiet, withdrawn. Perhaps that was why he made no move to comfort me as I left my bed to look for our parents.

With the elegance of a small child I crept along the hallway, cursing the old floorboards as I went. I had made it to the top of the stairs when I heard my Father’s voice. He was downstairs, speaking to someone. He sounded angry. Like he was in my dream. But at least his voice was still his own. Once I got to the bottom of the stairs, I waited outside the closed door. Father’s voice was clearer now: “There’s not enough of me left. I haven’t got enough to give them”, he told our… Mother? It must’ve been…

Yes, sorry, it was our Mother. Remarkable, she was. That’s what family friends told us. She disappeared not long after that night. Father told us not to worry, that we’d see her again one day. Though they never did find the body…

I decided not to bother them. Slowly but surely, I snuck back upstairs. If the floorboards weren’t so old and creaky, I could’ve sworn I heard my brother crying. But there was no sound by the time I returned to our room and slid back into bed, trying to push the image of my Father’s pained face from my brain.

Father was a good man, and brought us up well. We had enough to eat, even if it meant he had to go without. He looked so worn sometimes, he had worked for so long to keep John and I healthy. That’s why we were so keen to help him in the shop once we turned 16. We had always known that we would leave school after our GCSEs, and that was fine by me. I never much cared for school, preferring to stay at home and learn the family trade, or just play with my brother. We didn’t really have friends, but we had always had each other, and we always will.

My brother was not the sociable one. He never had been, but it became far more apparent when Father let us begin working in the shop. John never wanted to speak to the customers. He would lurk at the back of the shop, pretending to dust the caravans that I had seen him clean not 2 hours ago. Sometimes this worked, and I would greet the clients, negotiate with them and discuss a fee, as Father had modelled to us both. Other times, he would be made to endure the customers, answering their questions while simultaneously planning an escape route. Poor John. I told Father I was happy to speak to the clients, and John could stay at the back, but Father insisted that John “learn the family ways”.

Eventually John had enough of these demands, and told our Father “no”, that he would not work at the Hutch. While I was aware of his qualms with the job, this took me by surprise, I will have to admit. It was one thing to prefer mechanics work to speaking to people, but to not help the family business at all? I had never known John like this.

We were eating dinner in the kitchen when he announced this. Father ordered John to go to the living room, then told me to go to my room. I wanted to protest that I hadn’t finished my dinner, but the look he gave me as I opened my mouth to say so scared me more than my nightmare had. I left my plate where it was and ran upstairs.

After an hour spent on my phone, curiosity got the better of me. Like I had all those years ago, I snuck downstairs and listened outside the door. Father was speaking. He told my brother that he hadn’t wanted it to happen so soon. But that he had been forced to take measures for the good of the business. Before I could wonder what he meant, I heard someone walk towards the door, someone whose footsteps I did not recognise. I ran back to the stairs as fast as I could, but luckily the footsteps had stopped before the door was open. I raced back to my bed, and my brother came into our bedroom a few minutes later.

I asked him what Father had been saying, what had kept him in there for so long. I left out the part I had overheard, feigning ignorance of the whole conversation. It wasn’t a complete lie. My brother just laughed, and told me not to worry. “The time is not so far away”. He grinned at me, and for the first time I noticed how similar his eyes were to our Mother’s.

The thought scared me. I didn’t ask him about that night again.

After that, John had no trouble dealing with customers at the Hutch. He still worked on the caravans themselves, but no longer complained when it was his turn to man the desk. I almost didn’t recognise him.

Father was thrilled when we told him he could retire. He’d nearly worked himself to death over the years, and I thought it time we let him rest. He could leave, find somewhere to settle down, and let someone else take control. John wasn’t as keen on the idea, but I talked him round. For the good of the business. Father had been worn down. It is time for fresh blood.

We’re making it official on Thursday. There’s a ceremony, I’m told. We will hand over the business, as has been done for generations. I just hope my boys will be up to the task. It is such a tiring job, but little William is oh so eager.

________________________________________________

SFTH/TMA crossover anyone? I miss writing, it took two special interests to get me back into it. Definitely not my best work but I did it in a day and I wanted to share it quickly

Might make this a series, where different SFTH play characters give statements to the Magnus Institute

In my mind it's a Stranger statement

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

At long last, my Our Lady of the Passion cosplay is ready for cons!

Based on this picture from Pinterest (google is finding fuck all elsewhere, but if someone knows the source I'll add it.)

The tank top is from Lockedtombmemes' Redbubble store.

The jacket is here, though I've painted the back with some fabric paint. I used the non-heat treating kind and just sort of sketched out the letters with a dark pencil to make sure the placement wasn't too awful.

The dog tags I'm not quite satisfied with because I put too little information on them, and an updated one is still waiting in the mail (I wanted to put the Wing and Cell on it, and had to reread some chapters to verify) There's loads of places to get them, but I used these.

The machetes I don't have many pictures of (I don't have a full length mirror to show them properly strapped to the legs.), but I went a little overbudget to the point it would probably have been cheaper to buy real machetes (but not as welcomed at conventions!) Still, they were from here, in case anyone wants some big ol' 27 inch props instead of the dinky ones from Spirit Halloween.

Gloves were these ones, and they fit my big ol' butch hands just fine. Nothing special there.

For my TACTICAL BLOOD OF EDEN FANNY PACK (which I already wear all the time, but changed colors to match the costume anyways) is this.

The boots are fairly ubiquitous and seem to come from various online sellers, sometimes in men's sizes, sometimes in women's, but this store has them up to a women's size 12, which I needed because I'm lorge.

Now, the mask I'm most proud of! I don't have any experience making costume bits, but I found this one meant for airsoft, which has TWO FUCKING FANS?!?! hidden in the filters to cool my face in the sweltering 80 degree Texas winters.

But! You'll notice the goggles aren't tinted, so I had to figure out how to do them myself to hide my glasses, for REASONS, but this little kit was pretty simple. There's a gluey side, so you just spray the goggles with some water, then slap them down and spend like... a fucking hour or two squeezing out the air bubbles, but aside from a single wrinkle, I think they turned out great! The red also provides some good contrast.

Now, the pants were pretty simple. These come with knee pads, and the black camo looks really nice with the gray coat and black shirt. It did take two attempts to get some that fit (One seller had the XL listed as having a 44 inch waist, equivalent to a women's 18, but labeled elsewhere with the true size of 36 inches, the bastards.), but where I got silly was the straps.

I got this tactical belt, which seems to have tipped the number of tactical things I can search for before search engines decide you're a bootlicker, and intended to use a single bike strap on each leg to hold the other end, which, well... two problems.

The blades were now being bent by my massive fucking quads because I've been doing a shitload of exercise to get fit, because apparently all I needed to get into the gym five times a week was wanting to look like my specialist book blorbo.

I couldn't bend my fucking hips.

So! I ended up ordering a total of SIX STRAPS for my legs, pairing two up high to fit the wider part of my leg, and a single one down near the knee. The upper ones I later looped through the belt to hold them up, which also doubles for making the trousers into a fucking cod piece, which, hey, some people like that. The lower ones were led up by the knee pad, so I had a somewhat stable set of six straps and one belt, which is dangerously close to becoming a Nomura-era Final Fantasy character, but hey, I gave myself carpal tunnel marathoning all the Kingdom Hearts games last year, so that's not a problem.

All in all, it probably cost me... well, more money than it should have, but it's all pretty quality stuff that I'm sure will be very toasty if we ever happen to have another winter down south.

Also, last note... boots of any kind are so much more comfortable with insoles. They don't have to be expensive, but your feet and knees will thank you at conventions when they have a good cushion under your heels.

That's about all I've learned putting this together! I'm 5'9 and around 250 pounds, give or take, so most of this is men's garments, which means the pockets are DEEP AS FUCK. Perfect for collecting small rocks.

Just something to keep in mind.

(See y'all at the conventions. I promise my Yorkshire accent will be less goofy by then, but I can't promise I'll be as nasally as the audiobook.)

[wirewitchviolet]

The Illusion of a Functioning Society

I don’t know if this is one of those things that’s true for everyone, I’m just in a particularly miserable situation personally, or this is one of the many cases where trans women act as the canary in the coalmine for everyone else, but I’m increasingly getting the vibe that somewhere around when America decided its response to a global pandemic that’s killed... can I look this up? Close to 7 million people so far was formally going to be to just kinda... pretend it isn’t happening and everyone agrees to just not bring up how many people they’ve lost and pretend there’s some other reason service jobs are suddenly understaffed... that kind of got away from me, but yeah, since around there, I’ve had the vibe that people, broadly, no longer really seem to care at all about the general concept of a social contract.

Let’s start with the most obvious example. As the pandemic was first really gearing up, I had a couple noteworthy medical concerns. Incredible tooth pain, and some pretty damn horrible constipation issues (we’re talking like, making a dropoff only once a month). Couldn’t see my regular dentist because she was out of the office hoping Covid would blow over, so I got a referral to someone else, who said it was a problem they weren’t specialized in, and bounced me to someone else, who said and did the same, then the fourth dentist I was bounced to who was like a two hour drive away started looking at my teeth, glanced at the form I’d filled out of what medications I was on, got confused by something, and asked why I was taking all these things. I replied that I was trans, she looked at me like I’d just sprouted bat wings, said my teeth were fine and I should leave, and shouting a very loud parting “thank you SIR!” on my way out the door. The actual pain went away after I was on antibiotics for a bit, my gums de-swelled, and what looked like part of the plastic bags they put on the clamps and such when you’re getting certain other kinds of dental work done worked its way out from like under my tooth so, all well and good there, but... the system failed pretty hard on all that? Still haven’t seen my actual dentist in what like 4 years now, who apart from leaving some plastic junk sitting around the one time apparently is just the best.

Meanwhile with the other issue, I talked to my doctor who was about to quit from Covid stress, he sent me a specialist who was completely checked out, who lined up a colonoscopy. That... failed to provide meaningful results, because before you get one you have to completely empty out your whole digestive system with this medical drain cleaner, and that part didn’t work because, again, being super blocked up was the whole point. So as I’m coming out from anaesthesia I’m told “it was a bad prep” and I’m trying to ask if I’m supposed to rebook things or what. I just get sent home, have the follow-up with the specialist, and he... leaves his job while I’m waiting in the office. Like, he just full on quit then and there. The doctor who referred me to him is gone too. And the whole practice I was seeing these people at has had no in-person office hours for... well, years now. I don’t know if I actually technically have a GP right now? Pretty sure no.

Anyway that issue went away shortly after I took a hardline stance on a relative who very very incorrectly believed I needed to be eating bananas regularly after reading some quackery or other... but you know what didn’t was uh.... fairly regular fairly large amounts of blood loss when going to the bathroom. Which uh... seems bad. Seems really bad as a recurring thing for several years. I should definitely see a doctor about that, maybe try the whole probe thing again if... I can actually get an appointment with anyone.

This is of course on top of a bunch of Trans Stuff I desperately need done if I want anything approaching a normal life. That’s all on hold because my health plan absolutely 100% covers all of it, but there are no actual providers for any of these things in network. It’s a problem.

Meanwhile hey, my internet is garbage? I have a modest 240 mbps down/20 mbps up DSL modem, with no extra bundled services like phone or TV, and with frequent hours long outages, for which I am paying... $140 a month. That’s not even a little bit what I’m supposed to be paying, or getting, and when I call them about it they can’t even be bothered to provide plausible lies. I’ve been told I’ve missed payments (it’s a fully automated system and I’ve never not been charged), that I’m paying a $100 monthly rental fee on this $20 modem I own outright, etc.

The sensible thing to do would be to immediately cut all ties with them, but... I need some alternate ISP to switch to, and when I go looking for one, I just get phone trees and clueless call center employees who all seem to very much be in agreement that my address does not actually exist and is not covered by anyone’s services. Also fiber internet is apparently a fanciful delusion I have made up. So this apparent monopoly just gets to... take as much money as they want out of my bank account, and I can’t do a thing about it.

Meanwhile I spent literally the entire month of December dealing with losing my SNAP benefits. That’s the thing you get when you’re poor where you get a little card with a small balance every month you can use to buy some of your groceries, but not all, because there’s a strong political lobby that keeps calling for weird restrictions on arbitrary things poor people aren’t allowed to eat. Anyway I kinda need that, because... rent’s really high here, my ISP is charging me through the nose, and my only source of reliable income is my patreon. Which has been dropping off steadily since Twitter’s new management firing basically everyone means there’s nobody to deflag the malicious automated report-volume auto-suspension on my account and let me log back in.

So I need food to live. Early in December I get a big envelope in the mail telling me I need to do a phone interview to keep my benefits, and I need to do it by the middle of... November. Uh-oh. So I try calling, I navigate a phone tree, eventually it tells me nobody is available and I need to go to their website. Their website recently underwent an overhaul and required everyone to update to new passwords to log in. Except they didn’t do anything to make sure people could change their passwords to new secure ones while logging in with their old unsecure ones, and by that I mean the whole site is completely bricked. So that was like 2 full days of tech support to get a new password to access a site to tell me to... call the number I’d initially called, which I’ve been trying every day, and getting full on locked out because nobody is in. Winds up being something like December 24th where I just full on don’t sleep the night before so I can call the instant their phone lines open and hopefully get the apparently like one person available as soon as they get in. Other people apparently also did this though, so I am on hold for four hours.

Eventually I get this interview done, and it hits a snag because they ask me what my monthly income is, (roughly $975), and what my rent is ($1100), and they go “wait a minute, these numbers don’t add up. How are you affording your rent?” They didn’t really seem to accept “I’m not” as an answer, and tell me they’re mailing me a new income report I need to fill out by the end of the year. THAT got here literally yesterday (we are a bit into January as I’m writing this), but finally being able to access their website I was able to get a preview and see that they assumed I was operating... some sort of business with warehouses and trucks and such and I needed to document how much those were eating into my profits or something. So I just had to go in and cry in person about how I don’t have any money left at all and how I had nothing left to eat because I’d been cut off for a month and had to explain like three times what Patreon even is and still left with the guy apparently convinced it was some sort of government subsidy program he just wasn’t aware of.

So uh, side note. I haven’t really posted anything anywhere online for the past month or so? This took literally every waking moment of every day to sort out, plus several non-waking moments, plus it’s hard to focus when you aren’t eating. Also when you’re freezing because you can’t afford to keep the heat on in a cold snap.

Meanwhile, you know, I’m really trying to get some non-Patreon money coming in too because I really am unable to cover my rent and all, and I’m hitting fun new problems like the publisher of my last board game not having my current contact info for any royalties I might still be getting, and my only means of reaching them being someone on Twitter which, yeah, that’s out. Someone recently decided to do a new print run on some books I wrote a few years back, but decided he didn’t need to actually contact me to do so, or pay me, and when it was pointed out to him that that isn’t really how publishing worked, he decided to just quietly cut all my stuff out of the reprint. RPG writing completely dried up on me too when Covid started. I’m not in touch with anyone, I’m reading about executives at a big publisher going on tirades about not wanting to work with... a slur for queer people, so, that’s probably not coming back. And apparently the whole industry is having to deal with another major publisher’s lawyers doing something that’s a big ol’ headache everyone else has to deal with now too.

So, you know, it just kinda seems like people aren’t so much for the two-way transfers of things anymore. I’m paying for medical coverage I can’t use. Not getting paid for work. Getting charged through the nose for internet I’m not getting. Hell not too long ago I tried one of those food delivery apps since there was a promo and the driver just... picked up my food and went home to eat it himself, apparently.

Meanwhile on a government level, uh, somehow Teslas are allowed on the road despite being firebombs that fail like every basic safety requirement, and can even test their automated driving modes that even when working properly are programmed to break basically every driving law. And... I mean this is really a whole separate article really but did you know that at this point, like, a handful of companies are just buying every single home anyone puts up for sale to consolidate these horrible rent-monopolies? And this is on top of a whole separate deal where people are pulling a similar weird shady thing where there’s entire cities where like 80% of homes are sketchy AirBnBs now?

And you know, right-wing controlled bits of the U.S. are just actively gearing up for the mass incarceration and murder of trans people, while parts of Canada are setting up programs to straight up euthanize people below a certain income bracket.

These are all pretty significant large-scale social problems and the fact that they’re all being met with this “whatever” attitude kinda means the death of society at large. Plus you know, lots of individual people.

[djino04]

Touchstarved-OmegaVerse serie

For the first day of FEBUWHUMP 2023 (@febuwhump ) . The theme is touchstarved

POV Saul

For some reason, Rosalind decided to send Andreas on a diplomatic mission to Eraklyon for two weeks. That's a long time two weeks, it's even longer when you're an omega and the alpha who usually helps you is gone. I think the headmistress did this to punish us/me for the failure last time, I can't see any other explanation. Because any sane person doesn't put the word "diplomatic" and Andreas in the same sentence. But you may say, Rosalind is far from being sane.

So I act as if nothing had happened, while the pain invades my body day after day. This doesn't stop me from giving my classes to the specialists, nor from fighting against Dane to supposedly do a demonstration, but I also take the opportunity to put him in his place. This kid really needs to come down a bit. He's gotten a little too big of a head since Rosalind decided he'd be useful to her. So sure, he's good, but he'd be even better if he practiced instead of strutting his stuff. I feel like I'm seeing Andreas again at times. Except that Andreas trained at night and had private lessons since he was a child, which is not the case for Dane. He needs to understand that he still needs to improve. I'd like to avoid him learning that lesson by getting killed. 

Anyway, all that to say, I'm carrying on as usual, or at least trying to. The first week was pretty easy, but then the first symptoms came. First, a headache came on and it refuses to let go no matter what medication I take. Then my stomach decided that it would refuse some of the food I would try to swallow. And now my bones are starting to hurt. I know the next step will be shaking and dizziness before I am unable to stand up. At first, I was hopeful that the more serious symptoms would not present themselves until Andreas returned, but that illusion did not last long.

I hate being an omega... And I hate Andreas for making me promise not to take omitrix. If I could have swallowed the drug, everything would be fine, I would be sound asleep in my bed, instead of being kept awake by increasingly unmanageable pain. I have rarely had to suffer from the lack of alpha thanks to Farah and I wonder if this is a bad thing after all. Maybe it would be easier if I were used to the pain or maybe the symptoms would take longer to come on. It's hard to say and I wonder if there are any studies or anything about it. I realize how little I know about omegas. I refused to learn too much because I didn't want to be an omega. I still don't want to be one, either. It's so much easier to be an alpha... 

A sharp pain stabs my stomach and I can't hold back a groan. I try to breathe through it and curl up on my side, waiting for it to pass. If I listened to my instincts, I would spend the remaining four days before Andreas returns, in this position in my bed. But I refuse to give Rosalind that pleasure so tomorrow morning I'll get up and go to class as usual, no matter how much it hurts.

************************

When my alarm goes off, I wince as the noise makes my headache worse. I have no desire to move because I know that any movement will only increase the pain I feel. I feel like all the fairies in the school have decided to use their power on me tonight and will do it again the second I get out of bed. 

Yet, I have no choice, I have to do it. So I gather my courage and lean on my arms to straighten up. This simple movement makes me dizzy and I fight to keep the contents of my stomach in its place. But I refuse to simply let myself fall back into the pillows. The first class starts in an hour, I know it's going to take me a long time to get ready so I have to get up now.

After almost 45 minutes of struggle, I am ready. I see my reflection in front of the mirror and I can hardly recognize my face. It's pale, with huge dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. I feel like I've aged 10 years in one night.  No student is going to be able to miss the fact that I am sick. As long as they don't understand the source of my illness, I'm fine with that. The fact that I'm an omega is becoming less and less of a secret, but I hope I can keep it that way for a while longer. I don't know what's in store for me when the truth comes out, but it won't be good for me, that much I know.

I look at the time. I have 15 minutes left to make the trip to the training ground. I glance out the window and almost groan when I see how far it is to the castle. This daily commute seems so long today. I am so tired and it would be so easy to finally decide not to go. I'm not going to be much use during training but that would mean letting Rosalind win again. She has far too many wins under her belt for me to let her have this one willingly. I'll go to class until I can't get out of bed. That's why I finish getting ready by putting on my shoes. I start to grab my sword when there is a knock on my door. I'm having a little trouble guessing who it might be by the time, but I guess I'll find out soon enough: 

"Come in."

To my amazement, it's Sky who walks through the door. He frowns as he closes it behind him. I guess it doesn't take a genius to know something is wrong with me. But his presence here before class is quite disturbing, which is why I ask him: 

"Sky, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

He doesn't answer me verbally, but he walks towards me with a purposeful step and I quickly find myself with his arms around me for a hug. Relief immediately washes over me as the pain immediately begins to recede. This does not prevent me from worrying about the reason of this impromptu hug. That's why I ask Sky: 

"To what do I owe the honor of this hug?"

I hear Sky's response, even though her face is buried in my shoulder: 

"Andreas texted me to tell me to give you a hug since you are apparently incapable of asking for help. Those are his words, not mine, but I pretty much agree with him."

I blow my nose, amused. I in turn hug him to me. We shared hugs throughout Sky's childhood, but he's grown up and those moments are rare now. I will cherish this moment even if it didn't act like medicine for me. Especially since I thought I would never be able to do it again after I was sent to prison and even afterwards because of the anger my son felt towards me. But things have changed now and this hug shows it. I also have another feeling that comes over me that I can't describe, the thought that Andreas is watching over me, even though he is far away. I can't even get mad at him for stepping in without asking me. On the other hand, I know I owe Sky an explanation, so I give it to him: 

"I didn't come to see you because it's not your place to deal with this kind of thing."

I feel him shake his head before he replies: 

"Yes it is, that's what pack members do, they help each other and they are there for each other. We are part of the same pack, Saul, and I can help you. I should have known what was wrong even without Andreas' message. I noticed this weekend that you weren't 100% but I didn't want to bother you with questions. There is so much going on with Rosalind right now, I didn't even think about what Andreas' absence meant for you.  You've been suffering when I could have helped you a few days ago, if only I had understood."

I tighten my grip on the back of his neck before replying: 

"Hey, hey. Stop that, right now, okay? You didn't do anything wrong, I kept it from you. But I thank you for coming to me when Andreas told you about it. Despite what you say, you didn't have to help me." 

I know that he is surely not convinced and besides he confirms it by asking me gently: 

"Promise me to ask me to help him next time."

I need to stop making promises to Andreas and Sky.  But I know my son won't let me out of this room until I do, so I comply: 

"I promise you. I will come to you if the same situation happens again."

That seems to be enough for him because he doesn't add anything else. And for once, my promise gives me some leeway. There's no way I'm going to intrude on Sky's life because of my omega status. I'll have to find some other solution than omitrix to make myself independent from him or Andreas. I don't know where I stand with the latter. Does he help me only because he has to? Or is he doing it because he wants to? When in doubt, I have to look for something else that gives him the freedom to leave whenever he wants. I hope he doesn't because I appreciate having him back in my life, but neither he nor Sky deserve to have an omega as a burden. There has to be another way, I just have to find it. 

But that's a thought for later. For now, I'm enjoying the moment. The pain is slowly diminishing and in a few hours it will be a distant memory. There are 12 minutes left before the start of class, I have plenty of time to enjoy having my son against me for the first time in many months, before I have to head to the training field. 

[understandableparadox]

RANDOMIZED?! bottom of the barrel isekai review:

holy shit a modifier!? thats right, im going to start hitting the randomized button on the isekai listings, and now matter what turns up (barring notable exceptions). Today's offering:

Thats right we are waltzing back into ball room hell! Today title is "I used to be a disqualified daughter of the duke."

now lets go through the basic story.

Lets say hi and hello to our poor dear girl Claire, the main protagonist who is currently getting cold shouldered by her boyfriend the crown prince because ill be fucked if we don't ram ourselves dick first into the cliches.

anyways we cant focus on that because we need to talk politics. oops did i say politics, i mean family relations!

as shown, magic and women are closely tied together in this story, claire unfortunately sucks at magic while her sister, charlotte is Great at magic. they are great sisters and their relationship should not be called into question because the protagonist has not called it into question at all.

"hey dox, why aren't you telling us more about claire?"

*shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you, serves you some soup, shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you*

Thats a great question honey bee, that's because claire is Nothing. if i were to lunge out and bite the air, i would taste more in those vibrating molecules and stray traces of gaseous elements then i ever will from whatever void creature claire is.

You see, the conceit of this manga is that it is Cliche. everything you will ready from this title will run to the next cliche instead of breaking away to a story the author may for some odd reason want to share with us. instead of plot we are assaulted with new characters, new ideas, new Things that you have been served before on better platters and with kinder smiles.

but lets not be negative, lets get going.

oh did i say claire and charlotte are good sisters? i mean they are not, and charlotte preforms a heel turn out of nowhere and now we are expected to hate her without getting a second to understand her actions in any capacity.

charlotte has actually been talking mad shit, saying claire is actually a super duper big meanie that is constantly bullying her dear doe eyed lil sister. which of course everyone immediately believes with no hesitation because we are supposed to hate these people uncritically. if they had any more then the scant brain cells required to lift their arms up so their underpaid servants dreaming of stuffing their heads into a guillotine, why we wouldn't have a story now would we?

anyways instead of clearing the air and making it clear to everyone that this is not the case, she cuts her hair to show that she is doing something brave and scary then decides to exile herself immediately because i guess the author couldn't be fucked to draw a decent ball room scene so she could get kicked out.

she takes a nap first to remind everyone that this is actually an isekai and that claire isn't actually the main character but a side character which leads to This Wild Panal later. anyways she gets prophetic dreams about her and her gal pal talking about the game which just so happens to give us vary important plot points.

hey wait a god damn second, ive been talking for five minutes and we aren't surrounded by soft eyed, understanding and blindly loyal anime boys! this wont do at all, this is a god damn outrage!

ah there we go, now we can go back to talking about nothing. the next five chapters can be summed up thusly:

claire is part of a conspiracy, she is the lost princess of a island kingdom thats also supposed to be lost but its fully inhabited and has a school and other such creature comforts... anyways the game has a secret event if you bring claire to the kingdom and have her redo her magic test and oh my stars it looks like shes a super duper secret specialist girl that the gods love! wow, insane, how ever do they come up with all of this?

got all that? did it sound exciting? Its not. they talk through most of this, teleport through even more and only show scant scenes of scintillating light to show shit. its like saw dust for the eyes, the once beautiful reduced down to something so....Eh.

also i ran through that because the last couble of chapters made me fucking blow my casket on discord and now you get to read my rant. anyways we now know that claire is the super secret girl of destiny and oops the pretty boy who follows her around like a puppy is the crown prince of another kingdom that is described to be 10 years ahead of the other kingdom. so i guess she lost absolutely nothing.

she decides that she needs to be Strong and independent so she goes to fantasy hello work, here is where i got scared that it was just a tea shop. relief took me as i realized oh, she was going to be a tutor! thats fine, thats dandy right?

WRONG, SHE NEVER FINISHED HIGHSCHOOL, SHE HAS TO GO BACK TO FUCKING SCHOOL ON THE NEW ISLAND, SHE HAS TO ASK THE PARENTS OF THE KID TO LET HER GO TO SCHOOL

SHE HAS TO DO CLASS BEFORE SHE EVER SEES THIS KID, WE LEARN MORE ABOUT THIS FUCKING SCHOOL THEN WE EVER DO THIS FUCKING CHILD AND HER PARENTS WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE NOVUEA RICHE TYPES. WHY DOES THE CHILD NEED A TUTOR? WHAT GRADES IS SHE FAILING AT?

AH DONT FUCKING WORRY ABOUT IT, WE ALREADY KNOW THAT CLAIR IS A WONDERFUL TEACHER! AND SHE IS SO GOD DAMN BUETIFUL AND PRETTY AND SMART AND FUNNY, GOD CAN YOU IMAGINE BEING HER? SO GOD DAMN EFFORTLESS THAT SHE DOSENT EVEN NEED A FOUR YEAR TEACHING DEGREE TO HANDLE THIS POOR CHILDS WOES!

WHAT ADVANCED TOPICS COULD CLAIRE IN HER INFINATE DROP OUT NO CHILD CARE TRAINING ASS HAVE??? WILL SHE PROVIDE THIS CHILD WHO IS MORE LIKELY THEN NOT IN FUCKING GRADE SCHOOL THE ESSENTIAL MATHMATICAL SKILLS SHE WILL NEED AS A NOBLE WOMEN? WILL SHE IMPART ONTO HER THE VAST BREDTH OF KNOWLADGE NEEDED TO PARTAKE IN POLITICS BOTH IN COUNTRY AND ABROAD!?

"AH FUCK IT, WHY DONT YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO LEARN TIMMY?" SHE HAS NOTHING PREPARED, SHE HAS NOTHING READY FOR ANY KIND OF LESSON PLAN, WHY DID THOSE FUCKING TROUTS HIRE HER IN THE FIRST PLACE?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HJAHAHAHAHAHA, OF FUCKING COURSE, OF COURSE! I CANNOT ESCAPE, I CANNOT FIND SOLACE OR REFUGE, IT ALL COMES BACK TO TEA! OH GOD WHO ART IN HEAVEN, BOIL ME, BOIL ME IN EARL GRAY AND ALLOW ME THE SANTIFICATION THAT CAN ONLY COMES WITH THE SKALD OF PURIFYING WATER FOR I AM NOT SINLESS, I FORGET THAT EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ISEKAI LIKE THIS IS FUCKING ***HORNY*** FOR TEA, IT IS A FETISH BEYOND THE DEPTH OF DEPRAVITY WE CAN ONLY HOPE WE CAN AVOID WITNESSING. IT ALL COMES BACK TO THE FUCKJING GALLONS OF TEA THAT MUST BE CONSUMED AND IMBIBED, YES LITTLE GIRL, YOU MUST BE INDOCTIRNATED. WHAT SCHOOLING CAN YOU POSSIBLY HOPE TO LEARN IF YOU CANNOT PARTICIPATE IN THE MOST SACRED ACTIVITY, THE FUCKING TEA PARTY?!

i need to stop... oh, she stops a tornado after this but its so god damn boreing, its a cloudy day that everyone feels werid about, she says a lil diddy and it disappers with some light

apperently its a magical tornado.

then we get a chapter chunk thats meant to make you hate her sister more but christ o maily do you fucking care?

2/10, dont read this.

[rimeiii]

Huh. Isn't the first one basically base WHB, a tower defense game? Just without moving characters around...which by then you just have Arknights, unless you're LITERALLY doing PvZ...? Which, don't get me wrong, would still be an amazing concept (Arknights is one of the best tower defense games out in the market rn imo, and also included a cheeky PvZ pool level reference in DH-EX-4), but would love to see this concept fleshed out even more honestly.

Actually wait OP sorry let me ramble-

Would the playable units be generic demons? What sort of roles would the demon generals play, if any? Or would we have a sort of Advance Wars situation, where each demon general grants a unique set of buffs to their units and perhaps even having a general-specific skill (like the CO skills in Advance Wars), so picking the proper general for each stage becomes necessary?

Would the units all do ranged damage or would there also be melee units? Base PvZ had mostly ranged attackers (the only exceptions being the close-ranged instant kills and Spikeweed/Spikerock), though PvZ2 added more traditional melee plants like Bonk Choy. Arknights makes the distinction between ranged and melee tiles clear, except for some stages that get rid of the restriction completely, and targeting priority AND ability differs between classes. Melee units prioritize enemies they block, but most of them normally can't target airborne enemies (except Lord Guards, Agent Vanguards, and Sentry Protector Defenders). On the other hand, ranged units can attack all enemies except for Flinger Snipers who can't target airborne enemies, but a lot of them have different targeting priorities. In specific cases, some unit skills and passives change targeting completely.

Would there be a deployment cost? If you're going the PvZ or Arknights route, where you're going to be planting multiple of the same unit (PvZ)/deploying and redeploying units multiple times (Arknights), then you need to balance deployment cost and point generation. Part of this is deciding whether or not you'll have a class specifically geared towards generating these deployment points. PvZ has the Sun generator plants, Arknights has Vanguards to generate Deployment Points.

You'll also need to balance the natural gain of these deployment points - too fast and they'll render deployment point generators worthless, too slow and you'll be wholly reliant on these generators (which you'll likely have difficulty getting on the field in a timely fashion anyways). Then again, another way to balance it is to have some way to ensure natural deployment point generation is sufficient, either through using a system like The Battle Cats or Merc Storia (which allows you to increase your deployment point generation) or having sufficient natural regeneration so you won't need any units dedicated to deployment point generation (which is notable in Arknights players specializing in certain niches that do not have any Vanguards available, like using only a specific class or race).

Why does this matter? Imagine sending out a strong yet squishy DPS and a tanker again and again and again without any cooldown AND cost as soon as they die. That'll break the game! It would be like having premier boss-killer Surtr ready to redeploy without any increased deployment cost after her forced retreat upon using her skill (insane Arts damage but with steadily increasing HP drain). More recently, Texas the Omertosa and Kirin R Yato are considered some of the best units in the game, having insane DPS paired with their low redeployment time and relatively low base cost as Executor Specialists (base 10 - the next lowest base cost 6* character with insane DPS would be Mlynar at 12, whose main thing as a Liberator Guard is that he won't attack and block unless you use his skill). There is a reason why they are often used in a lot of high-difficulty content.

I could add more but hhh I'm just gonna shut up for now, I rambled too much-

What in Hell Is Bad: Fangames

Gehenna: Plants Vs Zombies except you're strategically placing devils while angels are coming to kill you.

Tartaros: Crime sim, like a cross between GTA and Venture Capitalist. Starts with summoning Mammon because you're a petty thief, desperate for money. He takes a liking to you and makes a deal to help you accumulate crazy wealth. You start with small petty crimes and work your way up to fraud and other blue collar crimes, unlocking Tartaros devils with helpful abilities as you go.

Hades: A spooky puzzle game, vibes like Amnesia: Dark Descent and We Were Here. You're lost in an extremely haunted castle with funky dimensional shenanigans. It doesn't seem like there's anyone there... but you can't shake the feeling of being watched... Could it be the paintings of the beautiful man you keep seeing? Was that a tentacle disappearing around a corner?! As you go through solving chains of puzzles and solving mysteries, you meet Hades devils and gain their favor. The ultimate goal, you find, is to free Leviathan... whether he immediately kills you (bad end), throws you out alive (good end), or something else (secret end), depends on your actions and progress throughout the game.

Avisos: Cooking game. Accidental Beel summoning results in having to cook dishes so he doesn't eat you. As your skills improve, he wanders in and out and so do the other Avisos devils looking for him.

Paradise Lost: Wacky hospital game.

Niflheim: Puzzle platformer. Belphegor is tired and yeets you into funky pocket dimensions so he can nap. You unlock Niflheim devils and special abilities as you go. Cartoony and goofy.

Abaddon: Doki doki dating sim. You think it's going to be crazy kinky, but everyone just wants to be loved.

[rapifessor]

Pokéchronology, Volume I: Yellow

Day 14 (FINAL DAY)

It's time.

Today is the day that I beat Pokémon Yellow, marking the end of the first volume of Pokéchronology. It's been a while since the last update. I've been busy and I wanted to make sure I had the time to push all the way through to the end of the game for the final post. I haven't yet completed the Pokédex, in fact I'm decently far away from accomplishing that still. But covering that in Pokéchronology doesn't seem quite right. There wouldn't be much to say about it, it's just running around catching Pokémon that I don't have yet. Maybe I'll talk about it in a generic blog post later on. In any case, I'm done with Pokémon Yellow for now.

For those of you who have been reading this series, what did you think of the first volume? What things do you think could be improved, and how can I make this series more interesting going forward? I have some ideas of my own, but I'd like to get some feedback so that I know what works and what doesn't.

With that out of the way, here's what happened. The final spoilers for Pokémon Yellow that you'll ever hear from me (probably):

Elite Four

Well, this is it. Time to run the gauntlet. I gather all the healing items and Elixirs I can muster up, with some X Specials and X Accuracies for good measure, in case I need them. I also use up all the vitamins I had stored away: two Calciums and three Carbos for Holy, and two Proteins for Mycoboss. I'm as ready as can be, without buying a ton of stuff or leveling up more.

Lorelei

The first challenger is Lorelei, the Ice type specialist. With Holy in front, this battle shouldn't be too difficult. She opens with Dewgong, who I swiftly dispatch with two Thunderbolts. Next, Lorelei sends out Cloyster, who is dealt with similarly. Her third Pokémon is Slowbro, who is not Ice type, but once again falls to two Thunderbolts. Jynx, her fourth Pokémon, proves to be a bit stronger against Holy due to her lack of weakness. I wasn't sure what moves she could use, so I kept in Holy to play defensively. Thankfully, Jynx doesn't have much HP, so three Surfs are enough to take her out.

Finally, Lorelei sounds out her Lapras, who takes three Thunderbolts to defeat, and the battle ends without me ever changing Pokémon. Her Pokémon were surprisingly tanky, but none of them were especially threatening either. It's kind of weird to me that one of the Elite Four is only packing five Pokémon, like come on. Take off the kiddie gloves already, I can handle trainers with full teams at this point.

Bruno

Moving on, the next of the Elite Four is Bruno, who again... has only five Pokémon. He opens the fight with an Onix. Lol. Lmao, even. Hitmonchan also fell to one Surf from Holy. I get that they're Fighting type, but god damn their Special is shit if they can't even survive one non-super-effective move against them. Hitmonlee is the same, although Hi Jump Kick does a lot of damage to Holy and they used Double Team, so Holy missed the first two Surfs before one-shotting them. After that is... Onix again? Really dude?

Bruno finally brings out his Machamp, so I decide it's time to bring out Miles and destroy them. For some reason, Bruno uses an X Defend. He did that on his other Pokémon too. Come on, dude! That's not going to save you from a 90 Base Power Special move with STAB and super effectiveness against your Pokémon! Long story short, I OHKO'd all of Bruno's Pokémon. Damn that was disappointing. But I suppose I should have expected that from the guy who only uses Rock and Fighting types in his team.

Agatha

Maybe Agatha will be more of a challenge. At first she looks like a Ghost type specialist, which should be interesting... except the only Ghost types in Generation I are the Gastly line, which are also all Poison type. Anyway, she sends out ya boi Gengar, who can really take some hits, even from Miles. But all Agatha does is spam potions while I spam Psychic moves and eventually take out her Pokémon. Next is Golbat, so I guess Agatha's more Poison specialist than Ghost, and I switch to BIG RAT but she immediately switches out Golbat for Haunter. Thunder does a good chunk of damage but I quickly switch back to Miles to finish them off. Golbat is back, takes one Psychic to defeat. Then comes Arbok. I could Psychic again, but instead I choose to have Prinzessin take care of them with Earthquake.

Down to her last Pokémon, and guess what? It's ya boi Gengar again, but this time they know Psychic for some reason. Whatever, Miles go brrr. Man, Poison types kinda suck don't they? At least against my team, they do.

Lance

The last member of the Elite Four is Lance, a Dragon specialist, who's poised to be the greatest challenge yet... I'm kidding, he starts with a Gyarados who hits Holy with a Hyper Beam. Really spicy move, but now Holy attacks, and Gyarados has a quad weakness to Electric. Surprisingly, Gyarados TANKS it with a sliver of HP left, but now they're Paralyzed and Holy outspeeds them to finish them off with Surf. Here come the actual Dragon types: Dragonair. Gets one-shot by Ice Beam, oops. Then Lance sends in another Dragonair, and you don't have to wonder what happens to them.

Aerodactyl on the other hand is a little spooky. I don't know what moves they have and they outspeed my entire team. The first move they use is Fly, so Aerodactyl dodges Holy's Ice Beam. I switch to BIG RAT to tank and hopefully deal some damage, but Aerodactyl is still faster, so BIG RAT eats a Hyper Beam and faints. Back to Holy, I manage to land the Ice Beam and it OHKO's Aerodactyl. Lance's ace is Dragonite, which does a fair amount of damage with Fire Blast as I heal up Holy to take them out. Once again, a single Ice Beam is enough to defeat them. Ice may not be a very strong type overall, but when it's strong, it's STRONG. Ice moves are pretty powerful, man.

The Champion

The Elite Four defeated, there's only one trainer standing in my way before I become the Champion myself, and that's Gary.

I knew I was more than capable of handing his team by now. That much was made clear in my last battle with him, so even with his team at their strongest, there's not much they can do to stop my.

The battle begins with Holy versus Sandslash once again, and Sandslash is too slow to do anything before Holy's Surf drops them.

Alakazam is next, and they prove to be somewhat formidable. Mycoboss does good damage still, but it takes three Leech Lifes to fully deplete Alakazam's HP. Unfortunately, Alakazam kept spamming Recover, resulting in a stalemate, before they get a cheeky crit and one-shot Mycoboss with Psychic. Well, time for my backup strategy: physical Mr. Mime. Miles Body Slams his way to victory.

Exeggutor is much more tanky than Alakazam though, so Body Slam spam doesn't work as well against them. I could switch to Holy here and probably one-shot Exeggutor with Ice Beam, but I didn't for fear of potentially dangerous Grass moves. Instead I choose to revive Mycoboss. They duel Exeggutor and eventually emerge victorious, despite Gary's use of healing items and Hypnosis spam.

Oh, hey Cloyster old buddy! They're literally weaker than Lorelei's Cloyster, what the fuck. Can't even survive one Thunderbolt.

Ninetales comes in and Fire Spins Holy. With Holy being unable to move, Ominous is the obvious choice. Ninetales barely survives a Hydro Pump, leaving Ominous to finish them off with ease.

With all but one of his Pokémon soundly defeated, Gary has no choice but to accept his fate. He can't beat my Pokémon. Despite being 15 levels ahead, having a super effective move at his disposal, and a massive speed advantage, Jolteon has no chance against Prinzessin. The fight ends with a single Earthquake.

Ending

And there you have it. Gary is in disbelief at his loss. Professor Oak comes along to tell him how shit he is and that he lost because he didn't love his Pokémon enough. Very supportive! I'm congratulated on my victory and admitted to the Hall of Fame, where my winning team is shown off one by one, in all their glory. I watch the credits, and it's revealed that I beat the game with a total play time of 47 hours and 9 minutes; just under two real-time days.

But this is not where it ends. There is still one thing left to do...

Cerulean Cave

That's right, it's time to beat the postgame dungeon and catch Mewtwo, the true final challenge. I get organized and set out for Cerulean City. There's one trainer that I missed just past the entrance to Cerulean Cave. You need Surf to get to her anyway so it's not like it would have made sense to come here before now. Before entering the cave, I ensure that I have the Master Ball in hand, as I will likely need it to catch Mewtwo.

Now we enter the dungeon. Cerulean Cave appears to be somewhat maze-like, but in reality there's only one path to follow with a plethora of items tucked away in corners and secret spots. Most of them are Ultra Balls, Max Elixirs, or Full Restores, but there are also several PP Ups here. I used one on Holy's Ice Beam, one on BIG RAT's Thunder, and one on Prinzessin's Earthquake.

While progressing I fight a lot of wild battles against powerful level 50+ Pokémon. There are a few that I hadn't caught yet, so I made a point of catching as many as I could. Got a Ditto named Ittledew, a Venomoth named Mothra, Danksta the Gloom, and Bleleleh the Lickitung. Not much else goes on, it's just a straightforward path to the end of the cave.

Mewtwo

Enter Mewtwo, the true final boss of Pokémon Yellow. They're level 70 and EXTREMELY powerful. Now, I could just toss the Master Ball and call it a day, but I decided to try and catch Mewtwo the old-fashioned way, as if I had used the Master Ball on a Pokémon already.

My first thought was to send in Miles to do some tanking and try to Paralyze Mewtwo with Body Slam, but Mewtwo takes out more than half of Miles' HP with a single Psychic, and that's saying a lot. I don't think any of my Pokémon take less damage from Psychic moves than Miles, which is kind of a problem.

I figure Mycoboss can at least do some damage, having a super effective move and a high Attack stat, but Mewtwo uses Barrier and Leech Life barely makes a dent in their HP. Things aren't looking great here. I have to disable Mewtwo because they're just too strong, so Spore time it is. Mewtwo recovers and undoes what little damage I had dealt to them before, but I try to make this a war of attrition with Sleep and Leech Life. It doesn't work, and before I can put Mewtwo back to sleep they one-shot Mycoboss with Psychic.

Being in a tough situation, I figure what I need to do is get Mycoboss revived to put Mewtwo to sleep again, and switch to someone else to deal damage. I had Miles pop back in to take the fall while I used my turn to revive Mycoboss. Miles doesn't get KO'd, so I switch to Mycoboss and they manage to survive long enough to land the Spore. From there I switch to Holy to deal as much damage as I can with Ice Beam.

I manage to drain Mewtwo's HP enough that I can start trying to catch them now, but I need to put them back to sleep. I heal up Mycoboss, tank Mewtwo's attacks again, use Spore, and start spamming balls. It's only a matter of time before the Genetic Pokémon is caught, thus ending the battle, completing Cerulean Cave, and completing Pokémon Yellow.

Some Final Thoughts

As my first experience playing traditional Pokémon, I found Pokémon Yellow to be surprisingly enjoyable. The game is overall very easy, though there were some moments where I felt the difficulty was decently balanced. I was worried I'd find the game barebones and archaic, but instead I was surprised by the amount of depth and intrigue that this little Gameboy game had. Satoru Iwata really was the GOAT for making this game possible. RIP legend.

Pokémon as a series really rewards you for good thinking and knowledge of its mechanics and intricacies. Adapting to its challenges and figuring out how to overcome unexpected difficulties, turning the tide of a battle is very satisfying. It's a very cerebral game at times, and I was thoroughly entertained by its problem solving aspects. I was never really bored at any point during my time playing.

Like I mentioned in previous updates to Volume I of Pokéchronology, there were plenty of things that irked me about Pokémon Yellow. Most of them are technical limitations, but there's nothing that can be done about them. From a game design standpoint, Pokémon types are pretty unbalanced and some the Pokémon themselves just get completely shafted by this.

Psychic types specifically are way too strong thanks to the Special stat determining both damage taken and received from Special moves, and their sheer effectiveness against a huge percentage of Pokémon in Generation I. This isn't helped by the relative weakness and small move selection of the Bug type, the only real counter to Psychic. The only reason Bug still performs decently against Psychic is that most Psychic types have garbage Defense and HP.

But ultimately, none of Pokémon Yellow's faults really soured my experience, as it's very possible to work around them and build a team that's prepared to deal with anything. I'm very much looking forward to the next game, Pokémon Crystal, and my journey through the Johto region. I imagine it will be even more entertaining as it ramps up the complexity with a host of new Pokémon, new types, and new mechanics.

Expect the debut of the next volume of Pokéchronology soon. It will be much longer and hopefully more interesting than the first.

[carygrace]

The antique chair restoration project—part 8

So, this is it! I think it’s finally done at last.

I’ve been working on it, but not posting about it, so let me bring this series up to date!

There were a couple of ever so slightly loose joints in the frame, so I whacked them apart with a mallet just enough to get a little bit of hide glue into them. Probably needn’t have bothered, but IME a loose joint just gets looser, and then loosens other things, so may as well nip it in the bud, right? Yeah. Isn’t this a gorgeous bit of joinery? I doubt these tight-fitting joints even needed glue to begin with, but after 150 years (at least…I’m not sure of age, but I’m going with Victorian for my best guess), wood can be expected to shrink a little.

I gave it a few coats of shellac, followed by some paste wax polish, because the original finish was badly worn to nonexistent in places and I wanted to protect the wood. Obviously I left the lovely patina alone though! I did have to glue a few splintery bits back down, and fill a few woodworm and knot holes, but not much work was needed on the frame (apart from the tacking rail, that is).

The upholstery was straightforward. I would have liked to use tacks throughout to stay in keeping with the era in which the chair was made, but the tacking rail was in pretty bad shape, and is less than an inch thick (much of that being riddled with holes from previous tacks). I filled all the damage, but decided to do the webbing with tacks and the rest with staples to be kinder and gentler to the frame (much smaller holes and fewer and less violent impacts).

Webbing. (I used copper tacks to attach it, just because removing the incredibly rusty steel ones was such a royal pain in the arse, and I wouldn’t knowingly inflict that on any future person!) Obviously the quality control department had to be involved for this.

This is overkill, I know, but I do not want this seat to sag and cause the leather to split again! That would really piss me off. So, overkill it is! It’s not going anywhere. Here’s the hessian foundation. This seat is really shallow, and I’m constrained to the original proportions by the leather cover, so I’m just going to do one layer of hessian with an integral edge roll (stuffed with horsehair), and then stitch around that to create a very firm and defined square edge profile.

I forgot to take a photo when I was sewing in the bridle loops to hold the hair, but I did take one after putting in the horsehair:

Edge stitching:

I think I ended up stitching around it three times.

Then some cotton and wool wadding:

Then calico stretched over tightly:

And finally the leather cover:

I fastened it down first with a few tacks, and then started to put in the brass nails. Unfortunately more of them broke in the process (only the heads are brass, and the steel parts were badly rusted and quite fragile). So I found some in my stash that were close to the same size (there were actually two different kinds on it, so who knows what is original anyway), and set about faux-patinating them with vinegar and salt so they didn’t look silly next to the old ones. They’re not as dark as I’d like, but I’m in a hurry to finish this up and don’t want to have to order any specialist patina solution for brass (the ones I have are for silver, and are not very effective on brass). It’ll be fine. They’ll continue to darken with time.

I did a bit more faux painting to perfect the look of the seat:

I couldn’t resist trying it out at this point. The seat is very comfortable and very firm! No sagging is remotely likely for the foreseeable future.

I wrote up an account of what I did, and tucked it into the webbing underneath with one of my cards, in case a future person takes the seat apart again someday.

Finally the bottoming cloth went on.

I did a bit more painting on the seat once it was in place, to emphasise areas of “wear” and “fading” and make it look more authentic.

Next I gave the leather a few coats of Renaissance Wax to polish it and protect it.

A few of the cracks have become visible again now that the leather seat cover has been under tension for a couple days, but it is light surface cracking only, and I’m confident my repairs are structurally sound, strong, and will be fine. I will let it all settle for a few months and then re-fill the surface cracks with some flexible filler to make them invisible again, but there’s no point in doing that until the newly stretched leather has settled in for a while and been used (sat on).

All in all, I’m very pleased with the result!

[sk-lumen]

Hey girl

I’m looking for some advice please.

I’ve been with my bf for 8 years and I really just don’t fancy him anymore. He gets a lot of takeaways and drinks beer 3-4 nights a week. When we first met he had been very fit and playing rugby a lot and I was really attracted to him but he got an injury so stopped playing.

I’ve addressed this to him that I think he’s drinking too much and ordering too many takeaways it but he says I shouldn’t ask him to change himself and that I’m being controlling. He’s gained a lot of weight and keeps saying that he’ll go to the gym but rarely follows through. I feel a bitch being so looks focussed but I feel we’re too young not to fancy each other (we’re 26) and our sex life is definitely suffering. I have no desire to have sex with him at all. This all sounds really horrible but I’m stuck between shaking myself out of this and saying he’s a great guy forget about and I’ve addressed my concerns to him countless times to which he does nothing.

Hi darling,

I can relate to your story, so take my word when I say the following.

You may not like hearing this, but the truth is you’re not in the same place anymore. You’ve tried reaching out, he’s rebutted every attempt and even defended himself, literally telling you outright he’s not interested in changing/improving. Most likely, he’s going through a dark stage in his life because of the injury mentioned, which has no doubt affected his self-esteem or sense of direction in life. That deserves compassion, but it doesn't warrant you staying in the same dark place and being miserable with him!

In the best case, what he needs is therapy — professional help from a specialist who can gently guide him out of this state of complacency, passivity, and essentially being self-destructive (drinking, gaining weight, not caring, pushing away his partner).

In the worst case, he’s just not interested in changing anything about his life right now — and you need to accept that. If he doesn’t want to change, he’s not going to. Do you understand? Nothing on your end will shift his mind, and it’s not your responsibility either, let that be clear. The decision has to be his.

But here’s the catch. Darling, you’re so young, just 26! You can’t wait around for another person to decide to get their life together. You can’t. I promise you, if you wait around hoping and hoping, you may wake up at 30 or 35, and find that things have only gotten worse, and worse yet, you’ve wasted most of your precious youth settling for… well, just settling. I will also add...

Saying he'll go to the gym but never follow through = he has no intention of changing. Actions > words.

Don't ever feel bad for being "looks focused". Attraction is important, and so is health/fitness. If it's important to you, it's valid! It has nothing to do about being a b*tch or vain.

Have another sit-down with him, tell him clearly how serious this is, and if things don’t change in a week (yes, a week, you must set a definite timeframe, not a wishy-washy “soon” that he’ll forget next day), then you’re leaving. And then? Actually leave if he doesn’t step up. (This is important. If you stay, thereby breaking your word, he will respect you less for lowering your standards, and you’re also teaching him it’s okay to disrespect you because hey, you’ll stay anyway.)

Hope this helps. Remember that you have your whole life ahead of you. It may seem like this relationship is it, but if things don't work out you'll always fall in love again and again, new beginnings are always around the corner. 🤍 And from my experience, relationships only get better, because you have higher standards and know what you want, and no longer accept less.

PS: 8 years? I don’t know what your views are on marriage — if it is something you’re interested in or not. But if the answer is yes, I assure you he would have made his intentions clear in 8 years. Any man who knows he wants a woman as his wife, would make his intention clear even within a year (yes, a year). When a guy knows what he wants, he doesn’t wait for another lucky guy to steal you away thereby losing the opportunity of his lifetime.

Much love,

-Lumen

[eloves-writes]

Don't know if this is a dumb idea, feel free to ignore it if this isn't the type of thing you write

The reader and Spencer are married and both work at the BAU and they have a 4 year old son. And unfortunately their sitter canceled so they had to bring him at the office, which was possible cause it was paper work day

a/n : not dumb at all! this is super cute, i’m personally not great with kids so this might not be my best writing ever but i really hope you still enjoy! i used the season 7 team bc they’re my personal faves but i’d imagine it as more season 14/15 spencer :)

baby genius at work

——————————

stupid job. stupid criminals committing crimes on a sunday evening. stupid police in tampa needing the bau’s help on said sunday evening when they definitely could solve it themselves. at least you didn’t have to go to florida, they just needed an over-the-phone consult but still- it was generally inconvenient to get called into work with no notice and a 4 year old at home. you could get some paperwork done before monday though, if that was a plus.

“spence?” you called from the kitchen, quickly trying to pack your son’s overnight bag. you hoped that a sitter would pull through and he could stay the night somewhere that wasn’t your office- a specialist unit for profiling serial killers, rapists, and pedophiles wasn’t an ideal babysitters club. “did the sitter call you back?”

your husband entered the room followed by your son, theo. they were both smiling mischievously like they’d been doing something you’d disapprove of in the next room. they probably were.

“yeah,” spencer said, running a hand through his overgrown, messy hair. “can’t make it, too late notice.”

theo ran around your feet with far too much energy for a small boy at 8pm, his hair just as messy and unkempt as his father’s. you sighed irritably, throwing the dinosaur backpack over your shoulder along with your own work bag.

“did you try jj? maybe will could watch theo, he’d love to see henry and micheal.” you ruffled the boy’s hair as he jumped up and down, trying to calm him.

“will’s on duty, they have a sitter.”

“crap. i mean, shoot. erm, we’ll just have to take him to work,” you sighed, searching the kitchen counter for your phone you’d somehow misplaced in the last 15 minutes.

“what?” spencer exclaimed nervously. “we can’t take our son to work, he’s four! what about all the files? what about-”

“i’m going to work with mommy and daddy!” theo shouted happily. you gave your husband an amused but sympathetic look. his eyes told you he’d given in.

“garcia can watch him. she never does any work anyway and he’ll fall asleep in an hour, it’s fine- we just need to get going or we’ll be even later than we already are.” before you could even comment on the still-missing phone, you saw theo was playing with it and took it back before loading him into the car with his overnight back and blanket; you had no idea if you’d be back home tonight.

soon enough you made it to quantico, and despite all hopes looking good that your son had fallen asleep, his sixth sense of impending excitement woke him up as you pulled in to the parking lot. spencer held his hand to walk him inside and you handled the bags. garcia was walking along the corridor as the elevator reached the bau floor and squealed at the sight of your son.

“oh my goodness! it’s the baby genius! to what do i owe this pleasure?” she smiled, theo running into her arms. you heard a faint “auntie penelope!”- garcia absolutely adored all the team’s children to the ends of the earth and back.

“can i babysit? can i watch him? please, because you're my favourite genius lovebirds in the whole world?” garcia asked excitedly, wrapping her arms around him. you laughed and nodded.

“he is all yours, pen. let me know if he starts getting tired,” you changed you focus to theo. “behave yourself for auntie penelope.”

she smiled happily, leading him towards the bat cave to let you and spencer focus on the case. theo liked the bat cave, all penelope’s little things on her desk and all the screens and things to play with. he was unlike his father in that way; spencer didn't like computers and avoided the sort of well-meaning chaos of garcia’s desk, but theo was like him in other ways- he adored reading, and had sounded like a walking thesaurus since the day he learned to speak. the funniness he obviously got from you, but the hair was unquestionably inherited from your husband too. spencer placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you into the bullpen to your desk where emily gave you a friendly smile and carried on with her paperwork; you could tell it was really not an exhilarating case because everyone looked tired. you suspected they’d cheer up if they knew theo was here, but you wanted to get some actual work done before they all wanted to be his favourite aunt or uncle.

you did all get a few reports finished and a short consult on the case before garcia came back into the bullpen with a sleepy theo about an hour later, the team all turning their heads and suddenly looking less tired and bored.

“you didn’t tell us baby genius was joining the team tonight!” jj said, getting up from her desk to hug him. she was closely followed by emily and morgan, the latter of which was convinced he was the superior god-parent to jj. garcia was still mad you didn’t choose her, but she definitely loved him just as much.

spencer stood beside you and placed his hand on your waist, the way he always liked to stand. “we weren’t planning on it,” you yawned. “sitter cancelled.”

“i’m wayyy more fun than a sitter,” garcia promised. you were quite sure she was.

the team all stood around fussing over theo, who was more than happy with the attention but looked like he’d fall asleep the moment it stopped. you took a second to appreciate the way the team loved your’s and spencer’s son; the job took absolutely everything out of them except their endless love for each other and their families. it showed you the ugliest people with the ugliest lives, but they still chose to prioritise the purity and innocence of a child. they had so, so much love to give and wisdom to share- when you and spencer decided to bring a baby into the world, you knew they would be raised by the best family that could be. every member of the team was part of that family, just the way you wanted it to be forever and ever.