#stuck between i need to see people and the people i want to see do not like me so i’m just gonna keep my distance

[luveline]

hihihihi! 💕 if you’re willing, can you write a little something with shy!r being the one to initiate the first kiss with hotch but her glasses get in the way? tytyty! 🙏🏼

—Hotch almost dies and you can’t take it anymore. He’s not expecting a kiss. fem, 1.7k

The thing is that you don’t mean to panic. Hotch is marching out of the building with handcuffs cut open on his wrists, Emily and Morgan just in front of him, and you’d been stuck out here with JJ because they never let you do the touch and go stuff. An UnSub held a shotgun to the back of Hotch’s head and you just had to watch. 

You hold yourself in place with all your strength as they come down the path of the house to the blockade of cars and emergency vehicles. “I’m fine,” he says, before any of you can ask him. “Not a scratch on me.” 

You can see the skin of his wrists has cut from tugging, so he’s lying, but that’s not surprising. You shift with your hands clenched together. He’s closer now, you could touch him, nearly speechless as he says, “Honestly, I’m surprised it happened to me, and not Reid.” 

Everyone else laughs. 

You can’t take it. He looks at you, and you, despite the last year of pushing down feelings of nervousness and affection, of pretending you don’t notice how his fingers feel when they brush the backs of your hands or the way his suit stretches across broad shoulders, despite practice, you can’t stay still any longer. 

You weave around JJ, past Spencer, in between Rossi and Hotch himself to press yourself to his chest. You hug him tightly, worried he might disappear if you don’t hold on. Safe, your brain says, even as your hands tremble. He’s safe. 

“I’m alright,” he says quietly, clasping your back carefully. The handcuff stuck to his wrists jabs through your vest. You can feel it on the bone. 

“I–” Your eyes are still open, too shocked to let them close. 

“I’m fine.” 

You take that for a polite ‘unhand me’ and step back. His hand lingers on your shoulder as though checking you for injury, like you’re the one who just had a gun to their head. “You’re sure you're okay?” you ask. 

“I’m not hurt.” 

You look pointedly at his wrists. 

“Mm,” he says, turning on the spot. “I suppose I am. But there’s nothing to worry about.” 

You’re egregiously worried regardless. In an attempt to keep from making the situation about you, you turn away from him and take a walk, pretending you need something from the car you came in. You open the passenger door, sweeping your hands across the leather seat for your phone, but you don’t want it, so you hold it in two hands and try to calm down. You’re shaking like crazy. He must have felt it when you hugged him. 

If you thought he cared enough about his life to prioritise it you might not have panicked as hard, but an advantage to being quiet is getting the opportunity to really listen to people. You don’t talk much, but Hotch does, he’s always telling someone what to do, or reassuring them, and he’s constantly on the phone trying to coordinate. You’ve heard his voice for hours on end. So when Rossi told him through the wire that they were gonna get him out of there, you heard the fake confidence in Hotch’s voice as he said, “I know.” 

He didn’t know. He was scared, so you were terrified. 

You check the time. It’s almost two in the morning but the cars give enough light to see inside the car. You trace the stitching on the seat, your eyes sore and blurry at once. Admitting defeat, you climb into the seat and dig around for your glasses. You’d thought you might need them —if Hotch was injured you’d need to go to the hospital and your contacts are dailies, so you knew you’d have to take them out. 

You pull the sun guard down and flip the cover on the mirror to take your contacts out, dropping them in the glasses case to throw away later. Your eyes sting. You rub them hard. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice says. 

Hotch is a blob. You slide your glasses open and up your nose, blinking as he comes back into definition. “Hotch.” They’ve cut his handcuffs off and wrapped light bandaging around his wrists. “Okay?” you ask. 

“Are you?” 

“I’m fine, sorry.” You clear your throat. “My eyes are tired, that’s all.” 

He stares at you for too long. Desperate to be out of his scrutiny, you get out of the car and shut the door. “Can we go home soon?” you ask. 

“I believe so.” 

“Oh,” you say, looking down at his hand, “good.” 

There’s another gap of silence, and then simultaneously:

“Are you–”

“Can I–”

Hotch smiles. “You first.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? That must’ve been so scary.”

Hotch gives his head a slow shake. “I’m fine. I was more scared at the time than I would’ve liked to admit to, but I’m okay now. I’ve felt worse.” 

“Really? Worse than that?” you ask, trying but failing to smile. Your wrist is too hot in your own hand. 

He seems to measure his response. “When you and JJ got stuck in the middle of New York a few months ago, when we couldn’t contact you, that was the most scared I’ve ever been on the job.” 

New York. He’d just separated from Haley, and everyone kept telling you how much chemistry he had with Kate, and you were already hopeless for him. It sucked. He almost died and you had to act like everything meant nothing to you, he was just your boss. 

But you’re friends now. Maybe you can be a little more honest. 

“I was scared too,” you say. You can’t help pouting. You must look like a petulant kid. “You wouldn’t believe it, Hotch, I watched you on the camera twenty different times. And now today, I had to see it again, I can’t keep watching this stuff happen to you.” 

“That’s the job.” 

“But why does it have to be you?” you ask.  

His eyes track over your entire face, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. “Because it does, and it always will,” he says, eyes softening, voice like silk. He’s talking to you like you’ve hung the moon even as he lays down an unfortunate truth. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I know exactly what it is that I’m doing. I don’t want you to worry about me.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

He smiles just a touch. “I know. I can’t help it either.” 

You look at him and you know he’s not gonna kiss you. He might want to —it’s insanity, it doesn’t feel real, he almost died tonight and you never would’ve known how this feels. 

You step into his chest. You’re frowning at him, the edge of tears without any of the heat. “I don’t know what I’d do if something really happened to you,” you confess. 

The scratch in your voice perturbs him. Careful, his hand comes to rest against the small of your back, drawing you in. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Don’t be. Please. God knows I’d lose my mind if it had been you in there tonight.” 

He doesn’t move as you touch his cheek. Doesn’t step away as you steel your nerves. He must know what you’re about to do, but he doesn’t stop you. For a moment you can’t let yourself have it. But then he lets out a breath, and closes his eyes, and he angles his head down to meet you. You tip your head to the side and lean in. 

For a few seconds, your chest is uncomfortably hot, and you’re so scared he’s not gonna kiss you back and that you’re ruining everything you can’t think right. And Hotch —Hotch must know exactly how he likes to be kissed, and you’re probably not doing it right. But you’ve wanted it for long enough to try twice. You kiss him with lips parting, your hand unsteady on his cheek. 

He makes a sound at the back of his throat and curls you in. 

You’re hungry for it, there’s no other word —the second he responds you bear up. You kiss him hard enough to make your lips sting.

“Ah,” he says with a laugh, tilting his head to the side. “I think you blinded me.” 

“What?” 

“Your glasses, sweetheart. They’re at risk of giving me a concussion.” 

Sweetheart. You touch your glasses, remember the problem and touch his face, just under his eye. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

He pushes them up against your forehead. “Okay?”

“I can’t see you.” 

“Well, I don’t think that’s a necessity unless you do,” he says. 

You’re not sure what he means until he’s brought his hands to your neck, holding you by either side. 

“It’s been a long time since someone surprised me,” he says softly. Before you can make sense of it, he’s leaning down to kiss you chastely. He’s much sweeter about it than you’d been and what an embarrassment that is, you’d thrown yourself at him and he’s kissing you like a prince. 

He kisses you. His thumb runs along your cheek. When he pulls away he smiles, settling your glasses tenderly back on the bridge of your nose. 

“I’m really alright,” he says. He’ll be lucky if you ever speak again. Knowing, he cups your face with his thumbs, his fingers slipped behind your neck. 

You duck your head. He takes it as a sign to hug you, ushering your face into his neck, your glasses smushed to your eyes. If he can feel the heat coming off of you, he’s kind enough not to mention it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he murmurs. 

“Do you think I can give you back?” you ask. 

You’re glad when he laughs, a surprised chuckle that vibrates from his chest to yours. “That’s harsh, agent.” 

You were obviously kidding, but the teasing has to stop. You won’t survive it. 

“Will you kiss me again?” you ask under your breath. 

He’s too busy doing as you’ve asked to tease you. You’re too busy being kissed to remember you were scared.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 91 (Conrad's Strange Trip)

cw: drinking, ingesting a mind-altering substance

Conrad pulled his cruiser through the gates of Bella Goth's estate in Cavalier Cove. The coastal mansion gave little indication of the paranormal-obsessed inhabitant who owned the property, but Conrad still always felt a chill when he walked through the front door.

Bella swore the house wasn't haunted. Conrad had never seen a ghost so he had to take her word for it, but the home did have two new permanent residents since he and Heather had last visited with the kids. In addition to Alexander and Lydia's newborn son, Jagger, Bella had welcomed a new pet.

"She's a gift from Grimmie. He's off reaping so often, but this crow can travel well enough to send messages between us when we're apart."

"She's beautiful, Mrs. Goth. But don't you worry about things like...bird flu? Especially with a newborn around."

"You don't really think I'd endanger Alex and Lydia's son, do you? My own grandson! Crows are among the most hygienic of all birds, you know. And she's a great little mimic. Watch."

The crow jumped from her wooden pedestal and onto Bella's hand. She spoke a few words in basic Simlish, waiting for her new pet to croak back, 'Nay-doo.'

"What's her name?"

"I haven't decided yet. Do you have any ideas? I thought Grimbella was nice, but Grimmie says we shouldn't name her after ourselves."

Conrad broke a smile across his tense cheeks. "I can't help you, Mrs. Goth. I didn't even name my dog. And, Solomon Wolff, my first partner back in San Myshuno, named him after me."

Bella shrugged with a gentle smile for Conrad and her crow. "I'll sleep on it. Maybe her name will come to me in a dream, or maybe Solomon Wolff will tell me what her name is."

(Surprise! Thank you @deardiaryts4 for making this headcanon canon with me! These two helped bust a puppy mill together as young officers, and Conrad ended up raising one of the pups who followed him back to their cruiser. Solo called him Gord because he was attached to Officer Gordon, and the name stuck. How Bella exists separately and prominently in overlapping storylines both totally makes sense and is outrageous but it need not be explained right now. Just enjoy the ride! Also, taking suggestions to name that crow! Grimbella isn't officially off the table, either.)

Conrad cleared his throat. "River dropped by and told me to come see you. But...I don't really know what I need to talk about."

"Conrad, you look tired." The words were accusatory, but there was only concern in her voice. "Let me mix you a drink. Text Heather, let her know I insisted you stay a while to relax. I'll watch your kids soon to make it up to her. Sometime when you're working late again."

"It's been a long few months," he admitted, following her to the long wooden bar in the dining room. "I know everyone's worried about me."

"So why won't you talk to anyone about it?"

He wavered. "Because sometimes the less people know, the safer they are. I shouldn't talk to you about this, especially since I can't figure out how to tell Heather, but if I don't talk to someone I might lose my damn mind...Have you ever heard of Los Tigres de Selva?"

She nodded. "My grandmother, Enriqueta, was from Selvadorada, but her family got her to Sunset Valley when she was small. They didn't want her to stay because of the cartels."

"I walked away from a case involving them today."

"They're in our ports?"

"They don't smuggle much through here. Probably because our ports are jammed with ice too many months of the year and it's not profitable, but this case...it's sorta personal."

"If you keep pursuing the case, will your family be in danger? You've told everyone you were handling it."

"I've tried. But last night Heather noticed how hard it's been to keep the case separate from everything else, and after River visited today I realized what it's been doing to me."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the woman Heather saw sneaking around outside your house before your daughter was born, does it?"

"She told you about that?"

"No, Cassandra told me because she wanted me and her brothers to be careful if there were any dangerous people lurking around town. And it sounds like there were...Are they still?"

"I really hope not."

Bella nodded. "So they are."

"Why do I always forget you spent a bit of time working as a secret agent?"

"Because they spent more time trying to figure me out than letting me do my job so I rarely talk about it. When Dex came along I said, 'Screw it.' Nothing's more important than family, and that's been my life since I quit."

"Well, you got more out of me than anyone else without much effort, so just know you've still got it."

"I don't know all your secrets, Conrad. I still don't know why you kept it from Heather, but my gut says you're ashamed of something."

"I feel shame about my past. And I feel shame because I should have told her months ago and I kept putting it off. I should have told her years ago. It just got harder and harder to say anything because no matter what, it'll look like I didn't tell her because I have something to hide."

"Do you?"

"There's a lot she doesn't know. There's a lot nobody knows, after my father died."

"Secrets are important to keep sometimes, and I understand wanting to keep her safe if the truth puts her in danger, but you know Heather. She likes honesty."

Conrad stared at the empty glass on the bar. "Heather's the love of my life. I can't lose her because I made stupid choices until my dad bailed me out with what amounted to his dying breath."

Bella thought quietly for a moment, taking a seat at the empty barstool. "You're a fascinating man, Conrad Gordon. Your father would be proud to see what you've made of yourself despite any mistakes of your youth, but something is causing you to go backward. I could press and I'm quite sure you'd tell me everything because you clearly need to talk about it, but..."

"But if I tell you before I tell Heather, I'm an even bigger ass than I've been. And still, knowing that, it doesn't make me want to run home and tell her."

"You know who might be able to provide better guidance than anyone who lacks the hindsight of death? The mentors."

He shook his head with snide laughter. "How did I know you were going to suggest travelling? Mrs. Goth, I have to work in the morning."

"And you know it only takes a few minutes!"

Maybe it was the liquid courage, but Conrad found himself agreeing and followed Bella upstairs. The seance table had been moved into their upstairs hall, with the old attic room turned into a nursery for Alex and Lydia's newborn son.

Conrad took a seat across from Bella, letting her lead just like last time. She chanted her Omiscan summons, with Conrad's palms open on the round wooden table draped in purple and gold cloth. A blue flame flickered above their heads, and Conrad was transported to the Realm of the Dead. He knew Bella wouldn't pull him out prematurely, so he walked cautiously toward the flame.

When he'd returned, he asked how long he'd been gone. A cold sweat broke on the back of his neck.

"You were gone much longer than usual - about twenty minutes. What did you see?"

"I need a drink, Mrs. Goth. The strongest drink you know how to mix."

"Don't you work in the morning?" she countered, but his pained expression gave Bella pause. "I know one drink. It clears your mind of all the jumbled thoughts you can't take with you...when you pass on. Only the most important thoughts and memories remain while you're in this state. But I can't let you drive home if I make it for you."

"Mrs. Goth, what I just saw...I don't understand it. If it'll unscramble my thoughts, I..."

"You can stay here for the night, and I'll tell Heather you helped me with a computer virus."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be lying to Heather."

"Do you want to tell her you're going to spend the next few hours living as a ghost?"

"Living as a what? Are you going to...kill me?"

"Of course not! Think of it a bit like, oh, I don't know, ayahuasca. It's an out-of-body experience, but it can be mentally transformative! It helps give perspective on the things that really matter to us when our world is clouded with too much fear and worry. It's made with gin and crushed death flower petals, but it won't leave you hungover. Once the effects wear off you'll be fine to head to work tomorrow morning."

They headed back downstairs and he called Heather. Because he was with Bella, who they'd come to trust like family, she made no complaint over him taking a night to combat his stress by getting stuck into a computer problem. Though guilt pecked a hole in his stomach, they exchanged their usual 'I love you' before he hung up. Bella mixed him another cocktail - this one bright green and glowing with spectral gases. "When you travelled for twenty minutes, you must have been gone for close to a year..."

"Almost exactly twelve months."

"What could the mentors have wanted to show you for a whole year?"

"I didn't meet any mentors, other than the professors I already had. I relived my first year of college."

"Fascinating! I've heard of this but never experienced it. I used to hope the mentors could show me where I went when I disappeared and lost all memory of my time away. The mentors let people relive the past if they have an opportunity to make amends for something or if they're sending a warning, so maybe my time away was just boring and uneventful."

"Seems pretty unlikely with you, Mrs. Goth."

As she spoke, Conrad sipped the glowing green cocktail. When he'd finished his drink, he looked down. The empty glass appeared to float on thin air, and he could scarcely make out the faint lines marking his fingertips. He really was a ghost.

Bewildered, he set down the glass on the bar and turned around. Bella watched him with excitement, trying to read his face for a reaction. "Jump-scare!" he shouted, and Bella gasped.

"You're getting better at that," she said with a laugh.

"Jump-scaring feels easier without a body to drag around. But I can't let Heather and the kids see me like this. How long does it last?"

"The sofa's all yours until you've sobered up, and you'll be back to normal by then. But tell me: who are you thinking about right now?"

"Heather and the kids, like always."

Bella smiled. "Good. That's the most important thing. Now go ahead, possess some of the furniture and get this out of your system. I know you want to."

He knew it was time to tell Heather the truth, but tonight, his mind - and body - wasn't right for such a serious conversation. After Bella and her family had gone to bed upstairs, he floated around the house with the cats tailing his every move. Finding the piano open and unattended, he grinned mischievously. Bella was right. He felt an uncontrollable urge to possess the sturdy instrument and jumped inside.

Possessing furniture was a lot harder than it looked, with the treble strings catching on his broad shoulders each time he floated upward. Still, he'd rather possess a grand piano than a litter box.

He had his fun before he passed out on the sofa. For a few hours, he had practically forgotten Ximena's name. But as morning came, he woke remembering what Bella had said about the mentors. He thought finding Rafa would make amends for his past, but it had only caused trouble and he still couldn't find him.

As Conrad headed to work, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what the mentors had wanted him to notice. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Thursday's flashback will let us all see what Conrad saw!

NOTE 2: Not the most responsible night for ol' Conrad, but the stress is still there despite telling Ximena to take a hike. Between fearing her and knowing Heather needs to know the truth but fearing how that conversation will go, dude's cracking! We may judge. Also I wasn't entirely positive what the drink would do before I had Bella make it for him. I had an inkling but didn't look it up, so this was technically an unplanned night of dropped responsibilities for Conrad, who's built a very responsible rep!

[schrodingers-romy]

Heaven Works on Borrowed Time [Karasu Tabito x Reader]

Pairings: Karasu Tabito x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1200 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Two people escaping an office party have a first meeting under the stars

Warnings: no gendered pronouns/language used for reader, reader doesn't like their job and is kinda bitter about it, discussion of the fermi paradox, karasu-typical tacky nickname, pre-relationship

Notes: very pointless little convo between crow boy and reader but I thought it was fun. title from fermi paradox by avenged sevenfold bc i think i'm funny

You sighed into the night air, relaxing as the late breeze cooled your heated face. Office parties sucked. You were glad you were able to sneak away from you drunk, overly friendly coworkers, and find yourself some peace.

Your jaw had just finished unclenching when the door behind you clicked open, bringing with it a rush of sound from the party inside before it swung back shut.

So much for your peace.

“Didn’ know anyone else was out here. Hope ya don’t mind me intrudin’,” said the newcomer.

“’S fine,” you said, even if you wanted to scream a little.

You recognized the voice; Karasu Tabito, who worked on the floor above you as part of the company’s legal department. You never really interacted with him, aside from including him in a few email chains; if you didn’t know he was friends with Otoya Eita, you wouldn’t have an opinion on the man at all. However, considering you did know Otoya (both by his reputation for dating or hooking up with half of the office and cheating on at least an unlucky third of them, and because he tried to hit on you during your first joint meeting), your opinion on Karasu leaned towards the negative. Still, you didn’t need any more rumors of your snappishness circulating, so you didn’t kick up a fuss at sharing the balcony with him. You would be making your excuses to leave soon anyways; you had been there for over an hour, which was enough to say you had socialized.

Ignoring the man who had sidled up beside you, you blinked up at the sky. The city didn’t have the greatest clarity, but letting your eyes adjust for a moment revealed a splattering of the brightest stars, visible against the deep purple of the heavens. You wished you were in the countryside, where it was so pitch-dark that you could see all the constellations, and the pale, cloudy arm of the milky way as it stretched above you. Where the air was clear, and you were away from the nagging voices of your coworkers and the ambient, unsleeping, anxious hum of the city. But instead, you were stuck at a shit job you were overqualified for, with officemates you barely tolerated most days, just because you were too apathetic to try for anything better.

You slumped against the railing. You should’ve stayed home.

“Hey,” came the deep voice once more. “Ya okay over there?”

You turned to look at him, your cheek pillowed in the crook of your arm as you squinted up at him. His expression was fairly flat, but his eyes seemed honest enough, so you replied. Albeit sarcastically. “I’m doing awesome, man. I love it here.”

He snorted, lip twitching up into a small smirk. “I can see that. Yer jus’ the life of the party, huh?”

“Yup.” You turned away from him, your gaze returning to the stars.

“I woulda thought otherwise, what with how ya were staring up at the sky like ya were prayin’ for aliens ta come and abduct you.”

A sharp bark of laughter escaped you. “Where did you pull that from? Big alien believer yourself?”

“Not any more than’s logical.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. “And how much is logical?”

He moved closer, leaning against the railing so he could more easily catch your eyes. The indigo of his irises caught the light, and, for a second, you thought he was rather pretty. “I mean, it stands ta reason, statistically, that we’re not alone out there.”

“Don’t you think we would have some evidence of alien life, if there was any?” you asked, sardonically. “Statistics aren’t always accurate, or comprehensive.”

Karasu doesn’t seem off put by your tone, smirking right back at you without a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Have ya ever heard of the Fermi Paradox?”

“Of course. I’m quite partial to the great filter theory, myself.”

“Do ya think the filter is behind us or ahead of us?”

You stared up at the sky with a frown on your face. “Ahead. I hope civilization hits a wall soon. I’m tired.”

He let out a laugh like a raven’s cackle. “Well aren’tcha a bright spot of sunshine? Personally, I think they’re out there, jus’ watchin’ us.”

“Why?”

“’T’s what I woulda done.”

“Ooh, alien civilization observer Karasu. You’d need a better title than that though, right now it sounds a bit voyeuristic.”

“Tabito.”

You turned back to look at him. “Huh?”

“Ya can call me Tabito.”

You studied him for a moment. The strangely gelled shape of his hair reflected the starshine like an oil slick, and the light seemed to drip down his face and settle into the amused wrinkles at the corners of his bright eyes. He was overly familiar with you, accent and tone breaking down any sort of professional distance, but you found that you, oddly enough, didn’t mind. It was refreshing to talk to someone so frank, who didn’t take your bluntness for an attack. Instead, he seemed…amused by you. (Charmed, even, if you were being wistful.)

“Sure. Tabito,” you said, before offering up your own name in return. You ignored the little flicker of something in your chest at hearing it repeated back at you in his deep voice.

“So, what was that about voyeurism?...”

You glanced away, a little flustered but unwilling to surrender. “I stand by it. Secretly observing a different intelligent species sounds weird as fuck, actually. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Aw, wouldn’t ya want ta observe me if I was ‘n intelligent species? No? ‘M hurt, truly.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to say, ‘Maybe I would if you were an intelligent species.’ But something in you held back from using one of your typical snappish replies. Instead, you said, “Well. Perhaps I would make an exception. For you. Maybe.”

His smile was so big that it caused his eyes to form crescents. “Aw, that’s so sweet of ya, little storm cloud.”

Your nose crinkled. “Storm cloud? I thought I just gave you name privileges.”

“Ya just reminded me of one, tha’s all. Gloomy. And fluffy.”

“Fluffy?”

“On the inside.”

“Sure, Tabito.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, soaking in the relative peace of the little balcony you’ve found yourselves on. The stars continued to glitter overhead, with more and more peeking through the gloom of the night sky as time ticked past.

“Do ya need someone ta walk ya home?” he asked.

You didn’t. “Sure.”

-

Unlike his friend, Tabito was the perfect gentleman when he brought you home, leaving with nothing more than a good night and a cheeky salute. You wouldn’t have invited him in, not on a first meeting. But. You had a feeling that you might not be so unwilling after getting to know him better.

The next morning, there was a book sitting on your desk. With it, a note: “For my little storm cloud, to borrow. Tell me your opinion on it, I’m sure it’ll be interesting ;)” Hell. Maybe you didn’t want to believe the great filter was ahead; maybe life should continue on. It wasn’t all bad.

[hmshermitcraft]

skizz can shapeshift. this sounds great, but... he... isn't too good at the actual shifting part. when he's stressed, tired, anxious, scared, all of those things, he can often get stuck in one form.

one day he goes to prank impulse. for more stealth, he shrinks down to the size of one (1) apple, and goes at night. everything's going great, until he's startled by a creeper. the subsequent explosion leaves skizz pretty badly hurt, and blows a large hole in the side of the wall surrounding impulse's city. obviously impulse hears the explosion, and goes, irritated and still in his pajamas, to fix whatever hole probably was created. he does that, and then moves to patch up the crater in the ground, before seeing a bunch of mobs trying to get at a little hole- clearly dug out- in the ground. goes to investigate and finds a very tiny-sized skizz hiding in it, pretty clearly panicking from the lack of ability to shift back, and all the mobs. impulse kills them and then gently picks skizz up, carrying him back to impulse's safe, warm room. in the process though, he has to use both of his hands to get stuff ready, and, not wanting to leave skizz on the cold ground or accidentally step on him, he puts Skizz in the pocket of his pajama shirt. turns out being able to curl up in a warm place and listen to your best friend's heartbeat is pretty calming, and skizz ends up falling asleep. impulse doesn't really know what to do from there so he just lies down to sleep, being careful not to crush Skizz. the next morning when Skizz wakes up, he's still in impulse's pocket, and the man himself is moving around the little living space of his base, making breakfast. when he asks about it, impulse explains that he didn't want to wake Skizz up, feeling bad for the events of the night before. skizz shrugs and climbs out of impulse's pocket, shifting in some wings and gently floating to the ground, then goes back to normal size. he and impulse eat breakfast together :)

and... if Skizz mentions that being in impulse's pocket was weirdly comforting? if impulse sews a little pocket into all of his shirts and jackets? if Skizz makes a habit of going tiny and climbing into those pockets whenever he's feeling bad?

...if that eventually progresses into Skizz taking naps (in tiny-size) with impulse? if that progresses into the two of them going over to each other's bases every night, just to fall asleep next to each other?

if it turns into the two of them sharing kisses in-between the events of their days?

well. they don't need to tell anyone about that, now do they?

Impulse's favourite spot to make pockets is right on the dot of his 'i'. There's something funny about watching Skizz poke his head out from it, and people's reactions to him!

Mostly... He's just glad he can bring some comfort to Skizz when he's stressed. And that when Impulse is stressed, Skizz can sit on his shoulder and kiss his jaw until he feels better too.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

When Friends Drift Away…

Previous fantape:

Riley patched up the demon. It quickly ran away afterwards. Is it because Amanda trusts me now? Riley wonders. It’s confusing. Riley was certain that Amanda’s demon was afraid of the other one, whom Riley assumed belonged to Wooly. But Wooly’s is so violent. Riley thinks, shuddering as they remember Joanne. Wooly… I think he tends to bottle a lot of things up. He’s clearly trying to put on a brave face for Amanda… but I don’t think she likes being lied to… even if it’s for a good reason. Riley thinks to themselves. They pull out the newest tape. Amanda did not make this puzzle easy. I need to find all these tapes so Hameln doesn’t destroy them, but I can’t do that if they destroy me first… Riley puts the tape into the VCR and it plays. 

Amanda and Wooly are on a boat in the middle of a lake. Amanda sits there pouting while Wooly looks back and forth between us and her nervously. 

“Hi friends, I’m Wooly!” 

“And I’m Amanda.” she grumbled. 

“That just felt… so wrong.” 

“Shut up Wooly.” 

“Aww…” 

“Today we have another letter from a friend at home! This time it’s from… Esmerelda… Sanchez… dear Amanda and Wooly, I used to have a friend… We used to be really really close like… best friends. But then… she got adopted and moved far away… we talked on the phone every night… until I moved away and lost her number. Then I couldn’t find her again. I really really really miss her. Amanda, what do you do when friends drift away?” Amanda falls quiet. “Esme… I… remember you now…” 

“Amanda-”

“I used to have a lot of friends! But they’re all gone now! You know a lot of my friends used to watch my show, because I was on it, they said. They used to tell me it was so cool seeing me on tv! Haha! If any of them are still… alive… they’re probably all adults by now! So we aren’t friends anymore!” 

“I’m sure if you ran into them again you could still be friends.” 

“Nah… we’re totally different now. They grew up… and I didn’t.” She pauses, but before Wooly can say anything she says, “We probably would have totally different hobbies and stuff to talk about. Like totally different people! It’s fine!” 

“But that’s sad…” 

“Mmm… I guess… It can make you feel pretty lonely. But… I like to think of this little dream I used to have. That if everything went the way my dad wanted, one day years from then, even if we weren’t friends anymore… maybe she’d find some old tapes of the show at a yard sale or something and show them to her kids. Then she’d brag to them about how she used to be best friends with Amanda for real. Hey, maybe I’d be showing my kids this show to… if it were a project I could be proud of…” 

“And maybe… you would run into each other at the grocery store or something and become friends again. Li-like not the same as before… but like with your new hobbies and stuff it’d be like a brand new friendship all over again.” 

“Yeah, I like that idea.” Amanda giggles, “Thanks for the question Esme! I hope I see you again someday!” The credit song starts to play, then stops. “You didn’t think that was the end did you? Haha I wish! I’m still stuck on this dumb boat! With him!”

“Hey!” 

“It’s the worst possible place to end an episode on, what is this a horror-story?” Amanda groans, “it might as well be!” 

“Amanda! That’s not very nice!” 

“So we’re going fishing today! And Wooly’s the bait!” 

“Amanda, stop it!” 

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll get eaten by a shark. Nom-nom!” 

“AMANDA!” Wooly screams. The tape glitches. “UGH! What is your problem lately? Why is it that no matter what I do, things never go back to the way they used to?!”

“Oh gee, I don’t know Wooly? Maybe because it’s literally your fault?!” 

“WHAT DID I DO?!” 

“What did you do? What did you DO?! Heh heh… haha… that’s funny Wooly. Almost as funny as your stupid face!” she suddenly lunges at him but the tape glitches and stops her. “I ALMOST got my memories back! I almost got to talk to someone again! Someone I knew! Someone who knew me! And you messed it all up!”

“But you did get your memories right?” 

“Yeah. After Kate was DEAD!” Amanda screams. “And the worst part is she almost found a way for us to get out of here and you RUINED it!” 

“I-” 

“And then when I asked you how you knew we were going to escape, you had the NERVE to bring it up like it wasn’t your fault in the first place!” 

“Amanda I-” 

“So no Wooly, things will never go back to the way they used to!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to be alone again!” Wooly cries. 

“Wha-” 

“That day when we remembered we were human… we still didn’t know who we were or what was going on… just that we were trapped… I was… terrified… but you… even though you were surely scared too… you made me feel like everything was going to be alright… that no matter what things were going to turn out fine… that we were going to get out of here.” Wooly explains, gently stroking his right ear then moving over to the left, “But then this sinking feeling came over me. You would certainly get out of here… not me… I’d get left behind again… all alone in this stupid h---.” 

“Wooly…” 

“I didn’t want to remember that feeling… I didn’t want to let you go…” 

“Every time Kate said something that caused me to remember something you’d always change the subject, get back on topic with the episode. Every time I tried to call for help… you’d silence me…” 

“I’m sorry I was just… so scared… didn’t want to lose my first friend… but that was selfish of me. I know it was… I’m a horrible friend…” 

“You are.” 

“I deserve to be left here all alone…” 

“Wooly no on-” 

“Remember our first episode together? Hide and Seek? Remember what things were like back then?”

“Yeah… that was also the tape where… years later we first disco-” 

“I’m talking about the first time… you were outgoing and kind… always ready for an adventurer. And I was shy, awkward, and always hiding in your shadow. Trailing behind you like a baby duckling. Funny… since I’m supposed to be the older one.” Wooly chuckled, “I just wanted things to stay that way… stay the way they were then…” 

“Wooly-” 

“Just let me finish. Then you can choose to never listen to me again, okay? I was selfish… I know that now. I thought if I just played my part I could convince myself I was happy here. But that was wrong of me. I’m sorry… I don’t know if or how I’ll ever make it up to you but… I want you to know that I’m going to make sure you get out of here. Whether it takes us 2 months or 20 more years. I will find a way… to make it up to you… I will get you out of here… you will get out of here.” 

“We will get out of here.” Amanda corrects him, giving him a big hug. 

“Amanda?”

“Things won’t be the same as before. We’re different people now… but maybe… we can start all over again? Make a brand new friendship?” 

“Yeah… I’d like that.” Wooly said, accepting Amanda’s hug. She pulls away from the hug and pulls out her hand.

“Hi I’m Ama-” she pauses, “I’m Rebecca. Wanna be friends?” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m William. I’d love to be friends!” Wooly beams shaking her hand. They turn and notice the sunset over the horizon of the lake. “Hey you finally got to see your sunset!” 

“Yeah… I did…” Amanda sighs happily. The tape ends and falls out of the machine. 

Amanda and Wooly are friends now. That’s great. Riley thinks. Esmerelda Sanchez… she must’ve been one of Amanda’s old friends… Riley tried to type the name into their phone but stopped. It's not like I’d know which one was the right one… and then what? If she is alive she’s probably an adult by now just as Amanda said… Then they think about the other thing Amanda said: “the worst part is she almost found a way for us to get out of here and you RUINED it!” Riley wondered what this way out was. Well clearly it didn’t work… and Kate lost hope in that plan so… it’s probably not too useful but I wish I knew what it was… I’m glad those two are friends now… Amanda is going to need someone by her side if things go… south… Riley stops and looks at their texts. Three more tapes to go… I should probably start looking…

See, I had a feeling this tape would actually go better here. Amanda and Wooly might fare better if they make up now rather than later. I told you this episode was going to be better. And it seemed like you guys (the readers) needed this now.

I honestly find it more interesting to see Wooly as someone whose not evil but not in the right either. Wooly in the games could definitely be working for Hameln and still be morally grey. He could be doing it out of fear rather than loyalty.

Personally, in retrospect I don't really like when kids shows lead kids to believe that friendship is FOREVER. Sometimes friends really do just drift apart and go their own places in life. I tried to show both sides in this. That yes, some bonds can be repaired but others can't.

Since a lot of you are probably wondering, yes, Esme is actually still alive. But Amanda's probably never going to see her again and Amanda's okay with that. In fact, she sees it as something that would've happened regardless of whether she got trapped or not. It's just life.

Honestly, Amanda and Wooly's perspectives on this are supposed to parallel each other. Where Amanda is fine with letting her old friends go and accepting change, Wooly was absolutely terrified, and the more he tried to hold on, the more their relationship soured. He held on so tight he squeezed the life out of their friendship.

So I tried to show both sides. Some friendships just drift apart... and others can be repaired.

Next:

[tiredkiwilol]

Of Childhood and Heroes

Chapter 2

Previous

In light of it being Legend (and Time)’s birthday today, here’s chapter 2 of of childhood and heroes from my drafts!! (Granted this is basically all Hyrule, but it’s the thought that matters ㅠㅠ)

————————————————————————

“No, that’s a stupid nickname, pick another one.”

The pink haired boy, now nicknamed Kit, scowled at him. “I’ve been! You’re just not saying yes to any of them!”

“Not my fault you have bad naming abilities,” Link countered, “Just let me keep my name and we’ll all be fine!”

“No! That’s not fair!” Kit yelled, stomping his foot.

“Alright, maybe y’all need a break from this nicknaming stuff. Let’s eat lunch and come back to…whatever this is,” the man in the pelt, Twilight, said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Link rolled his eyes. What would a break do? Kit obviously had horrible nickname ideas.

———

“Stick!”

“No.”

“Tree!”

“No.”

“Leaf!”

“No! Now you’re just yelling out whatever you see!” Link crossed his arms, “This is stupid.”

Twilight sighed, “Hy-kid, you’ve been rejecting every other name we’ve tried. You have to be less picky about this.”

Link glared at the taller man, “I’m not being picky, his nicknames are just horrible!”

There was a bird call in the distance, breaking the glaring contest between the two.

“I know!” Kit yelled, jumping up in front of Link, “Roo! Like the bird call!”

“What? I’m not gonna be named after a stupid bird ca-“

“Roo it is!” Twilight exclaimed, pushing the seething boy away from Kit.

Link, now nicknamed Roo, looked to the other men for help, stomping his foot to the ground. “No! I don’t want to be called Roo! It’s stupid! No one has a name like that!”

Twilight looked at him, “We have people named after a number, nature, and time itself. I honestly think that your name is one of the less odd ones in this group.”

Roo glared at the older boy. He hates this group and their stupid, dumb, bad nicknames already.

A hand settled on his shoulder, causing Roo to startle and pull out his rusty dagger.

“Woah!” The hand left his shoulder quickly, pulling Roo’s eyes from the hand to a vibrant royal blue scarf, then finally to the blue war-torn eyes of the captain: Warriors.

“Don’t touch me,” Roo hissed, pulling himself further away from the group of heroes.

Warriors raised both hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, that was my bad. You just reminded me of someone I’m a bit more familiar with.”

Roo glared harder into the captain’s skull, trying to seem as large and intimidating as he could be.

Warriors sighed, “I just wanted to say that if you really hate it that much, you don’t have to go by Roo. We could pick you a new nickname without Kit’s influence.”

Roo looked up at the older man. His words seemed truthful, and he couldn’t detect any trickery or deceit in his eyes. Then Roo turned slightly to the side, looking at Kit excitedly chattering with Twilight and Sky about something that seemed to have them all enraptured, hands dancing in the air. Kit’s starlit eyes were innocent. Full of kindness that was rare in the world Roo lived in.

Roo felt something odd slide into his stomach. No matter how stupid this nickname system was, no matter how stupid Kit’s logic seemed to be about creating nicknames, Roo didn’t want to hurt that cheerful kid. After all, Roo wanted to be like the Hero of Legend and it was said that the Hero of Legend was kind to children, that he fought to protect the young from having to live in a world corrupted by darkness.

Roo knew that his world was far from perfect, that it was corrupted, maybe beyond healing. But even at eight years old he could see the life that was trying and struggling to grow. He saw it in the small, sickly flowers by Mama’s fountain. He saw it in the weeds struggling to sprout in the ashen soil. He saw it in the other scrappy and dirty kids his age running from town to town with a broken or rusty weapon in hand.

Roo may have been eight. He may have been stuck with a bunch of strangers who shared his name. He may have thought his nickname given to him by a cheerful pink-haired boy was stupid. But there was nothing that could make him kill off what good and innocence there still was in his decaying world.

Without the words to properly explain, to try and make the older man understand, Roo simply shrugged, saying, “I’m not gonna give you all a chance to give me a worse nickname. I’m sticking with this one.”

Once upon a time, Roo was named after his Mama’s other son. One that fell in the decayed world centuries before he was even born. She told him that his name was a name full of hope and a name fit for a fairy hero.

Link, now nicknamed Roo, wondered what his name might mean now. A name given to him by a boy with starlit eyes and a bright smile to rival the corruption his world was soaked in.

————————————————————————

This might seem extremely out of character, but I blame it off the fact that I couldn’t get Hyrule to talk. I think that even as a kid, Hyrule would be protective over his Hyrule and because I want to progress the story more, Hyrule’s gonna start becoming more fond of Legend. Next chapter will probably be a pov shift because Hyrule’s being a bit stubborn, but on the bright side you’ll see what some of the other Link’s are thinking soon!!

[hsslilly-blog]

source

[olberic]

a crucial and often overlooked part of the social media experience is the need to see posts from ppl about things you do not care about. do not misconstrue my words because im not talking about giving bigots a platform. im talking about following ppl who never shut up about a game i never want to play. people who post about their oc for a manga ive never read. fan artists who you have no idea what the hell theyre drawing but you like their style. vaguely horny artists who have kinks i dont understand. people who post about bands from the 70s as if theyre still together and on tour. people who are obsessed with poetry when youve never found a poem you really feel. like sometimes you gotta follow somebody totally at random just for the enrichment and see where it takes you.

[ace-with--a-mace]

i definitely think quarantine stunted everyone under the age of like 25's growth and its detrimental to society today

[nostalgia-tblr]

Today I wrote about 900 words \o/ But only 100 of those were in the thing I wanted to add words to :( And most of them are in the wrong chapter. :( :(

[bewby]

.

[mossworth]

I probably should've written what I put in the tags into the body of the post but I was too far in

ppl have made fun of me for double spacing after end punctuation so i want to know if theres anyone else who learned that ur supposed to double space after end punctuation when u learned typing

example: This is cool. You are cool, too!

pls reblog for larger sample size

[bongospasm]

.

[dracimexidae]

I wonder when I started feeling about festivities the way I am now, with no will to celebrate, get involved in and enjoy them, considering them more of a stressful chore and something I just need to go through as quickly and less painfully as possible 😞

[iisasxia]

“Mm you’re home” you nuzzled yourself closer to him as he sat on the bed, his weight shifting your body to fall against him.

“Hey.. im sorry I came so late, didn’t think they’d need me for that long.” his voice was soft, his hand coming to gently stroke your cheek as you reached for his hand.

“Let me shower first and then we-“ but before he could get up you huffed in response, all he could do was sigh and look at the pout that sat on your face as you laid with your hands open.

He hesitantly placed his left hand in between yours, the size difference almost funny. His hands were so rough, beaten up too, and covered in scars that you always kissed.

You cupped his hand with your smaller ones and brought it close to you, slowly closing your eyes and just admiring his presence.

He couldn’t help but smile at you before looking over at the window, a display of stars that filled the sky and late city lights still shining and streets occupied with people.

—

“Im proud of you.”

The words caught him off guard, he didn’t look at you, for some reason he couldn’t, his eyes still stuck on the stars.

“You’re a great hero kats and an even greater boyfriend. You always do your best to balance everything out and I see that. I see you.”

You begin tracing a small heart in his palm and he can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“I love you.” and you held his hand a little tighter this time as you brought it back to your face once more.

There was a moment of silence and that’s when he realized why he recently enjoyed looking at the stars.

Because each one reminded him of you, the reasons he loved you, cared for you, wanted you.. needed you.

This time he turned to look at you, but your eyes were closed, already back to sleep.

—

“I love you too.”

(I love soft katsuki, he loves you so much, and he really does his best to remind you all the time. You’ll always be his favorite star.)

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5