#they are over worked but are determined to get the work done

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris getting stuck babysitting with shy!reader isn't how he imagined spending his wednesday.

requested. yes authors note. i changed the original request up a bit to match personalities and themes of the au.

cookie batter and flour splatter across your clothes and smudge your cheeks, a mess created by the small child standing beside you on a chair; his tiny hands swiping at the countertop, trying to tidy up the chaos as you both giggle, already anticipating how bee will react when she walks through the door to find the apartment in such a state.

luckily, bee is with nate, so you breathe a sigh of relief knowing she won't be home for a long while.

noah, your cousin, tilts his head, his wide, curious eyes sparkling with excitement as he watches the oven — the warm, sweet aroma of cookies filling the air, and you can see the anticipation building in his expression.

you smile softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder to get his attention. "they'll be done soon, i promise."

his bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout, his voice filled with hope as he asks, "how long?"

"not long," you reassure him, taking the dirty paper towels from his small hands and tossing them into the trash. you help him down from the chair, your hands steadying him as he hops to the ground, giving him a gentle squeeze. "go wash your hands, okay? they're all sticky and messy."

"'kay!" noah replies, his face lighting up with a toothy grin before he scampers off to the bathroom. you take a take deep, letting out out slowly as you rub your forehead, eyeing the mess around the kitchen.

with determination, you roll up you sleeves and quickly get to work, scrubbing away the remnants of flour and batter. you focus on each surface, wiping it down thoroughly until it gleams, almost as if it's been untouched.

stepping back, a satisfied grin spreads across your face as you admire your work, your head turning to the side when you hear noah's sock-covered feet pad back across the wooden floor as he returns.

"are they ready now?" he asks, his excitement bubbling over as he bounces on his toes, nearing towards the oven.

"almost," you reply, your voice calm and reassuring as you gently steer him away from the oven. you then glance own at your clothes, dusted with flour and streaked with sticky batter, and you grimace lightly, "i need to wash up. can you wait a little longer?"

noah nods eagerly and settles at the kitchen table, his wide eyes still sparkling with anticipation as he struggles to look away from the cookies baking. you quickly make your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and lathering soap between your palms, washing away the batter between your fingertips.

after rinsing, you splash some water across your face, wiping away the flour residue with a damp cloth, taking a moment to breathe deeply once feeling a little more cleaner.

you leave your bathroom to walk into your room, changing into a fresh shirt and throwing the dirty one into the laundry basket before you make your way back into the kitchen, the familiar chime of the over timer ringing out, a signal that your cookies are done.

you open the over door slowly, letting the warm, chocolatey scent fill the air, the golden-brown cookies making your mouth water a little. you reach for the tray carefully, settling it down on the counter before grabbing a spatula, transferring the cookies onto a clean plate.

"can i have one?" noah pleads as he slides off the kitchen chair, standing on his tiptoes beside you as he tries to get a better look at the warm treats.

"you've got to let them cool down a bit first... they're too hot." you explain calmly.

noah huffs, crossing his arms defiantly as he whines. "but i don't wanna wait!"

"i know.." you reply as you crouch down to meet his gaze. "but i really don't want you to burn yourself."

"i wont!" he insists.

"you will," you tease, a playful smile spreading across your lips as you reach out to gently pinch his cheeks, making him burst into a fit of giggles and swat your hands away. you then continue, "i promise the second they're done, you'll be the first to have a bite, okay?"

"okay..." noah murmurs reluctantly, and you smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head affectionately before standing back up, taking a quick glance at the cookies on the plate just as you hear your apartment door swing open.

you immediately assume it's bee, a little surprised to hear her back so early, but the voice that follows the sound of the door closing proves you wrong.

"kid, stop puttin' me on fuckin' do not disturb before i—" chris rounds the corner, his words trailing off as he halts in the kitchen doorway. his eyebrows knit together as he takes in the scene, staring. "what the fuck is that?"

"cookies," you reply cheerfully with a grin, but you quickly realise that's not what he's focussed on. his eyes are glued to the little bog clinging to your legs, wide-eyed and unsure. "oh! this is—"

"what is it doin' here?"

you're used to his blunt attitude and behaviour, but you frown disapprovingly at his tone around noah. "don't be mean."

"wh... why is there a kid in your kitchen?" chris presses, his gaze fixed on noah, who stares back with wide, innocent eyes. chris bristles at that, his posture tensing like a coiled spring. "he got a starin' problem or somethin'? why is he starin' at me like that?"

"chris!" you exclaim, instinctively reaching down to lay your hand across the top of noah's head, offering him reassurance. "this is noah, he's my cousin. i'm babysitting him for the day." then, you tilt your head to the side, genuinely curious. "how come you're here?"

"think its uh.. inappropriate to tell you why i'm here in front of a kid, dumbass. use your head," chris scoffs, his tone sharp, and you feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck as you realise what he means. "how uh, how long is he stayin' for?"

"a few hours."

the look on his face is enough to tell you he's frustrated — his jaw muscles clench, a slight glare forming in his eyes, and his brows furrow deeply. it's clear he's not happy about being held back, but it's not like you can just drop everything for him... not right now, anyway.

"do you want a cookie?" a quiet voice speaks up beside you, and you look down in surprise at noah, who's still glued to your leg, his voice timid yet hopeful.

chris' gaze flicks down to the little boy, his tongue prodding against his cheek as mulls over his question before murmuring, "i don't like cookies."

"everyone likes cookies," noah interjects.

"yeah, well i'm picky, kid," chris snaps back, and you can't help but feel a tug at the corners of your mouth. it's almost amusing how chris seems to be having a serious debate with a child. "a'ight? the only cookies i like are my—"

"can we eat them now?" noah cuts off chris, and you can see the baffled expression fall over chris' face at the audacity, a scoff leaving his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief.

you genuinely smile this time and nod your head, grabbing one of the cookies from the plate and handing it over to noah who takes it eagerly, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the treat in his small hands.

you watch as noah guides the cookie to his mouth, but then he stops halfway, puffing out his cheek sin thought. you can see the wheels turning in his mind, and before you can question him, he suddenly breaks the cookie in half, the texture soft and gooey, chocolate chips oozing slightly from the centre.

your eyebrows raise in surprise when noah totters over to chris, his little hand outstretched, shyly holding out the other half of his cookie. "here.. you can have this."

chris blinks down at the offered piece incredulously, clearly taken aback and not knowing how to respond. the tension in the room shifts a little, and chris shakes his head.

"no."

"take it," noah insists with a whine, his brows furrowing in determination. "it's really good."

you watch as chris shifts his weight, an unusual flustered look crossing his face that leaves you feeling taken aback. you've hardly seen him like this before—awkward and at a loss for words.

in some sort of weird way... you like it.

chris lets out a quiet huff, his gaze fixed on the little boy who's staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. after a brief moment of hesitation, he reluctantly reaches out to take the offered half, his nose twitching as his fingers brush against the warm chocolate that melts slightly onto his skin.

he takes a cautious bite, and for a fleeting second, you catch a glimpse of something on his features, caught off guard.

"not... not that bad," he admits begrudgingly, chewing slowly while glaring down at noah, who is practically glowing. "this doesn't mean—"

"told you!" noah cuts him off excitedly, beaming from ear to ear as he shoves his part of the cookie into his mouth. you feel a rush of panic, worried he might choke, but he manages to chew without issue, his little face filled with joy and chocolate smeared across his cheeks.

chris clicks his tongue against his teeth, his irritation clear. "don't you have any manners, kid? gotta stop cuttin' me off 'cos i'm gonna—"

"come with me!" noah interrupts again, his small hand wrapping around chris' finger as he tugs him away from the kitchen. chris looks utterly baffled, annoyance flickering in his expression as he's led into the living-room.

you can't help but watch with interest, your curiosity piqued as you follow them with your gaze. chris plops down on the couch with a huff, his posture tense as he tries to settle into the unexpected situation.

he tongues at his cheek, glancing around as if searching for an escape while noah, who is still excited, climbs up beside him, dragging his baby blue backpack onto the couch.

chris doesn't look interested at all, in fact, he looks bored, annoyed, frustrated — his jaw grinding subtly as noah babbles on about the toys and gadgets he has brought over.

you plate up another cookie and grab a juice box before making your way towards the pair, setting it down in front of noah who reaches for it eagerly, his little hands grasping at the cookie while he continues to talk, his mouth full.

"don't—don't talk with your mouth full, kid. where's your manners, huh?" chris scolds him, and you think he's such a hypocrite; you're pretty sure chris has done the exact same thing at least once or twice. but your eyebrows raise in surprise as chris grumbles and reaches out, swiping his thumb across a chocolate stain on noah's chubby cheeks. "you're a mess. y'hear me? mess."

noah grins sheepishly, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand before continuing to show chris his toys, but chris doesn't seem to be fully present. his attention drifts to a keychain that hangs off the zipper of noah's backpack—a lacrosse stick.

"you play lacrosse, kid?" he asks quietly, his fingers reaching out to touch the keychain, twirling it between his fingers slowly.

"m'learning," noah replies, chewing on his cookie nonchalantly.

"do you uh... you... you like it?" chris asks again, but there's some hesitation in his voice.

you notice a strange look on his face, as if the topic stirs up something. it's clear he's struggling, grappling thoughts. you tilt your head to the side, watching his reaction closely.

noah nods in response to chris' question, and chris hums, "good... that's good." he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"do you like it?" noah asks back politely, and you smile softly at his kindness.

"i—yea—w..." chris stammers, clearly choking on his words, struggling to speak. his takes his hat off, running a hand through his tousled hair before putting it back on, fixing the brim to shield his eyes. "s'fine."

"my dad teaches me how to play!" noah continues, oblivious to the tension.

"yeah?" chris murmurs, his voice voices lacks the enthusiasm it should carry. "mine uh.. mine too. was my coach in high school."

noah, still excited, doesn't pick up on chris' discomfort. but you do. you notice it immediately — the subtle shift in chris' posture, and the tightening of his jaw.

you want to ask him about it, to somehow coax him into a conversation that might reveal what's bothering him. but deep down, you know he'll shut you down before the question even finishes being asked, so you remain quiet, simply observing as chris' expression hardens slightly.

his gaze flits over to you during the middle of noah's enthusiastic babbling, his eyebrows furrowing at the way you're staring at him. you blink, quickly looking away, trying to fake interest in the tv.

but the tension in the room is obvious, you can feel it hanging in the air — thick and uncomfortable.

when you slowly look back at him, you find that he's still watching you, and your face grows a little hot at being caught.

"fix that starin' problem, kid," chris finally says to you, his voice carrying irritation. but the usual teasing tone he uses isn't fully there; you can sense the strain beneath his words.

he forces a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes, a façade you've never seen before. it's not real, it's so clearly fake that it makes you feel a pang of empathy for him. but you swallow it down, knowing that pushing him would probably make everything a lot worse.

instead, you direct your attention back to noah, who is still animatedly babbling, trying to forget that nagging voice in the back of your head.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[lousycapy]

How statistics can easily be manipulated to fit a certain agenda in Formula 1

Hello! I’ve seen a lot of f1 fans or media sources bring up statistics incorrectly to prove their points recently, which is really getting on my nerves. So here is a comprehensive guide, with examples, of how statistics work and why they are not the be-all and end-all some people might think them to be. This is a pretty long post, so the explanations are all below the cut. With that, I hope you find this useful!

Multiple factors come into play when analyzing a statistic, so I’ve separated them in different categories: what data set is used to make the stat, how the stat can be interpreted and how being factually correct doesn’t equate a valid argument :

THE DATA SET

To make a statistic, you first need values which correspond to a data set. What said data set is made of is very relevant to the exactitude of the stat and how much regard should be given to it.

For example, to determine the average lap times of a driver over a stint you would need to divide the sum of all lap times by the number of laps executed. Which means that theoretically you could use a single lap as an average, e.g. 1:57:325/1 which gives an average lap time of 1:57:325s.

However, as you might imagine this stat is not representative of a driver’s stint, since the lap chosen to be analyzed could very well be an outlier. That’s why sample sizes matter, the more values make up your data set, the more representative of reality the result obtained is.

It is also important to know what the data set consists of. Let’s reuse our average lap times of a driver over a stint example, are outlaps/inlaps included? Is it based on clean air, dirty air? Are there laps excluded due to driver mistakes (e.g. going off track)? A stat being presented without any explanation of how it was calculated is absolutely worthless.

Finally, comprehension of the data set is very valuable as well.

Let’s imagine this fictional scenario where Ferrari makes Charles and Carlos compare average lap times. They both use the same car, on the same track, on the same tires, at the same time, for a stint of a total of 10 laps. Both drivers average a lap time of 80.125s over their whole stint, so is the conclusion that they have both done the exact same thing accurate? No!

Despite having the same average lap times in this scenario, the data set suggests a different conclusion, and different trends. Considering stints in a race are going to be longer than 10 laps, it can be assumed that Charles would average better lap times thanks to his consistency compared to Carlos, who would get worse lap times as time passes as can be observed thanks to the trend line in his graph.

2. INTERPRETATION OF THE DATA

Now that we can recognize the importance of the data set and its constituents, it is time to understand how the data provided can be used to make a statistic.

More than one answer can be correct based on the same sample of data. Despite using the same set, depending on how the data is used it can lead to different statistics that drive different arguments both being factually correct.

For example, I’d like to refer to the wonderful basspro24chevy World’s Destructor Chamionship from Brazil 24 on Reddit in an effort of determining who is the most destructive driver. Here is a chart I’ve made which also includes number of races each driver took part in (Ollie not included I was too lazy to recalculate how it affects the drivers he’s replaced’s damage bill) and the average cost of damage per race of each driver.

Based on these statistics, both arguments could be made to justify either Checo being the most destructive driver, since he’s the one who’s cost his team the most damage over the whole season, or Franco, since he’s the one who on average costs the most for his team per weekend.

Depending on someone’s biases, they could make some drivers look better than others despite using the same data set as another person, and depending on how their argument is justified even if they end up with a different conclusion it doesn’t mean they aren’t right as well.

3. FACTUALLY CORRECT ≠ VALID ARGUMENT

Even if you are factually correct with your statistic’s interpretation, and it is based on an acceptable data set, it doesn’t mean it has a direct link of causality with your argument and provides validation to the point you are trying to make.

For example, someone could argue that Checo is a safer pair of hands in races than Pierre, because over the course of the 2024 season he has DNFed 2 out of 21 races, meanwhile Pierre has DNFed 3 out of 21 races. However, the point being argued here is which driver is a safer pair of hands, and other variables than the drivers come into play when discussing those two’s DNFs.

Indeed, Checo drives a RedBull with a Honda engine, whilst Pierre drives an Alpine with a Renault engine. Out of Checo’s 2 DNFs, 2 were caused by driver mistakes. Out of Pierre’s 3 DNFs, 3 were caused by engine issues. The World’s Destructor Championship can also be used as a counterpoint to Checo being a safer pair of hands than Pierre by comparing damage bills.

Thus, instead of the conclusion being that Checo is a safer pair of hands than Pierre, the DNFs statistic is more appropriate to conclude that the Honda engine is more reliable than the Renault engine.

Which means that to make a valid argument, you need to be able to explain why the statistic presented is relevant and what it suggests. Alleviating circonstances also need to be taken into account to solidify the point being made.

For example, let’s imagine a scenario where Fernando is 1.235s off Lance during a qualifying run. To use this stat in an argument, you need to be able to justify why he was so far off. Was it genuine pace? Did he make a mistake which ruined the lap? Were they on the same tires? Was it track evolution? Are they on the same setup? Did Fernando come across traffic? Did Lance get a significant tow?

Contextualization matters twice as much as the actual statistic being presented, because the statistic without context can easily be manipulated in a way to drive a certain agenda.

4. CONCLUSION

All in all, what I’m trying to say is that even maths can be used to drive agendas. Statistics can not be taken at face value, because there are multiple factors that can influence their relevance. I hope you found this little guide helpful, and that it will help you analyze better the information you see online on how drivers are performing (or argue better with crazed fans, you do you 🫡)

Thanks for reading and have a good day!

[tv-show-stuff]

The Hollow Men

Thomas Kinard, in the aftermath

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw.

It's not until the next week that Tommy realizes he probably just walked away from the best thing that has ever happened to him.

After leaving Evan's place - Buck's place, he thinks to himself, the final nail in the coffin - he gets in his car and does not think about it. He drives home and he does not think about it. He unlocks his door, walks all the way to his bedroom without turning on a single light, and he does not think about it. He strips down to his boxers and his socks and collapses face first on the duvet, not bothering to turn down the bed, and he resolutely does not think about it.

He spends the next five days feeling numb, moving fitfully through the motions, without taking a single second to process the monumental, life-altering decision he made. He gets up in the morning when his alarm goes off, makes his bed with military precision, showers and shaves and styles his hair and brushes his teeth and puts on his cologne like normal. He eats his standard two meals a day, breakfast and dinner, without really tasting them, deliberately ignoring the voice in the back of his mind saying "It's important to enjoy what you're eating, Tommy. Yes I know I was on the keto diet, what does that have to do with anything?" He goes back to skipping lunch, since there is no longer anyone who will wake up early to make one for him when he goes to work, and he doesn't feel like putting in the effort for himself ("If I have it ready for you before you leave, then you have no excuse to skip it, now do you?").

It's not until the sixth day that he realizes "Oh. I ruined something good for me because I was scared ." He's sitting on his couch, ostensibly drinking a beer that he's only taken three sips out of, half-heartedly watching the Kings play the Oilers, when he comes to this realization. His second thought after that is "This is not the first time I've done this."

The thing about Evan is, he's so solid. He's already lived more of a life in three decades than some people do for their entire existence. And even after everything he's gone through, he still manages to hold on to a level of optimism and determination and hope in a way that seams indefatigable. He's brilliant. He's bright. He's young, and exuberant, and after Tommy kissed him and helped him slot into place a piece of himself he didn't even know he was missing, he settled quietly into someone who knows what he wants.

Tommy doesn't know what he wants. Some days, he feels like he doesn't even know who he is. When he looks inward, he sees little more than smoke and mirrors; a labyrinth he doesn't know how to navigate. He's always felt a little off-kilter, like he's walking on a tight-rope, unaware if there's a safety net underneath him if he falls. He's never bothered to look down; he doesn't want to know.

Shape without form, shade without color,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Evan told him he saw a future together. He admires Tommy. He thinks he's brave. Tommy is the furthest thing from brave. The bravest things he's ever done have all involved Evan: that world-shattering first kiss in his kitchen; walking away after that failed date; saying yes to his invitation to the wedding. He doesn't think he's got any bravery left in him.

One day, Evan is going to realize that Tommy is a coward. He's hollow, broken; he has no solid core, no inner structure. He doesn't want to be there when it happens.

Evan deserves better than a shell of a person. He's recovered from everything that life has thrown so far thrown at him; he'll recover from this too. He may be heartbroken now, but eventually that will heal. One day, he'll probably even be thankful.

Tommy won't ever recover from this. This will haunt him until the day he dies. It doesn't matter. He'd break his own heart a thousand times over; he's not sure he has much of one anyways.

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

Poem in italics by T.S. Eliot

This is my first fanfiction in a LONG time, and my first for this show, so please be nice! I'm not a great writer, but this has been haunting me and I needed to get it out of my system.

I'm barely in this fandom, but that man has me in a chokehold. A self-sabatoging character who thinks he doesn't deserve anything good?I can relate to that. Again, I'm really only a casual watcher, so if I've gotten any details wrong, please feel free to let me know (gently please!)

Also, I do have an ao3 account! I've never posted on it, I'm mostly only there to read, but if even 1 person likes this enough to want it put on there for some reason, let me know and I'd be happy to do so! I'm also thinking about adding more -possibly Buck's POV, maybe even a make-up. We will see if anyone even bothers to read this one lmao.

[anxious-lee]

|| Ridiculous Problems Require Ridiculous Solutions ||

A/N: me going to sleep at night knowing i write OOC tickles for serious media: 😴😴😴

Summary: Jayce refuses to get some sleep, but Viktor might have a way to convince him.

Word count: 1292

---

It's easier to scold someone else's lack of self-care than it is to work on your own.

When Viktor neglects his sleep, Jayce knows exactly what to say every time. "You can't keep overworking your body like this. Sooner or later, you're going to shut down."

But when Jayce neglects his sleep, he finds new ways to rationalize his decision thanks to his sleep-deprived daze. He pretends like he can't see Viktor staring ironically at him from down the table.

Okay, so maybe he was being a bit of a hypocrite. But these were special circumstances! They were expected to present a new Hextech device to the council in a few days, and they were running behind schedule. Jayce had tried to speed things along by putting in a few more hours at his station, but what was supposed to be "a few hours" turned into the entire night.

Viktor, as Jayce expected, was none too pleased. He insisted that they had already done more than was even necessary, and that any more modifications could have been dealt with in the morning. He even had the nerve to parrot Jayce's own lecture back to him.

"If you keep this up, sooner or later your body will shut down."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Jayce groaned sarcastically. Regardless of his ill-advised choices, this machine still needed finishing, and that was what he was going to do.

He couldn't quite remember getting up out of his chair and making his way over to the toolbox, as the world seemed to blur around him, but a curmudgeonly voice brought him back to the present.

"Jayce, please, what you've done is good enough. Go home and get some sleep."

"Viktor, I'm fine, I'm really fine. I can still work."

"What is it you're reaching for right now?"

Jayce blinked down at where his hand was grabbing... thin air. Dazed, he spun around until he found the tool box on complete opposite end of the table.

Viktor gestured emphatically at the box. "You see? You're not thinking clearly," His voice changed suddenly into a compassionate, almost pleading tone. "You've gone too long without sleep. I'll handle the preparations today, you can go home."

"Vik, I can't just drop this now okay? I'm so close now. I mean think about it, what's more important right now: the amount of sleep I get, or proving our value to the council?"

"I cannot believe you're asking me this" said Viktor, sounding more exhausted than his partner in that moment.

Ignoring him, Jayce staggered to where the toolbox actually was, and grabbed a wrench.

Unfortunately for him, Viktor was not willing to let this go. He gripped Jayce by the arm clutching the wrench.

"Jayce, put it down. I don't want to need to use force." Although it was certainly a threat, they both knew implicitly that Viktor wasn't very cross with Jayce at all. But dammit, he would go to bed.

Jayce chuckled. "Not happening, Vik."

"Ehhhh fine. If that's the way it has to be" Viktor said, with something akin to a smirk in his voice. A smirk that usually meant trouble for Jayce.

A hand suddenly began squeezing up Jayce's side, making the scientist bark in a choke of laughter. It wasn't often that Viktor opted to play dirty like this; only when the situation desperately called for it. He was nothing if not a determined man.

Laughing freely, Jayce remained where he stood. At a new ninety-degree angle, sure, but still standing. If Viktor wanted to take this up a notch, then so would he. He'll laugh until his sides split open, but he is not losing this fight.

"Viktor, whahat the hehehelll!" He giggled.

"I have asked you several times to take a break, but if you want to go about this like a child, then I will treat you like one" Viktor teased.

Jayce could hear the smugness in his voice.

"I'm noHOt givihing IN!"

"How unfortunate for you."

The hand at Jayce's side was now climbing it's way up to his arm. Jayce twisted around every which way he could to try and stall its arrival, but to little success. He would rather die than admit it, but he truly couldn't help giggling even if it wasn't involuntary. The sensation, sparkling its way through his nerves like lightning through tree branches, was just so funny. It was pleasant, in the most unbearable way. He couldn't fully wrap his head around it, and he didn't have time to, because Viktor was still clawing into his armpit.

Jayce wasn't going to take this lying down. He started to pull away from his partner, hoping that Viktor wouldn't persist that much. Maybe moving away would be all it took for this tickly spell to be broken.

But to no such luck. Viktor could see his plan to move before he enacted it. Quick as a flash, he gripped Jayce's arm with his free hand, now effectively pinning him to his side.

"And where do you think you're going?" Viktor asked.

"Lehet mehehe gohoho!"

"You know what it is I want Jayce. I'll keep tickling until you go to bed."

"You cahan't brihihibe me into being healthyhyhyhy!"

"Bribe?"

Oh, fuck.

"Is this a bribe then?" came the voice above him. His voice was like a warm spotlight, exposing him with the softest touch. It was the same tone he got when something truly fascinated him; when his object of study surprised him and heightened his sense of curiosity even more.

Jayce's eyes had shut tight as soon as he realized what he had said, too mortified to dare a look. The tickling had stopped. Of course it did. Why would Viktor keep going after hearing him say something that stupid? He didn't even think it, it just slipped out! But he couldn't say that he was mistaken. Because he was having fun. Goofing off, having Viktor be close to him, playing with him-

Viktor had been quiet for a total of three whole seconds, but to Jayce, it may as well have been twenty. Then came Viktor's voice.

"Well, in that case-" he said, a little too giddy for Jayce's liking.

"Wait, Viktor, I didn't mean it like-"

A hand latched onto his other side, simultaneously pulling him in like an awkward side-hug. The other hand had surrendered the grip on his arm in favor of scratching at his belly. The frantic giggles that left his mouth were not helping to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

"How about this for a deal?" Viktor smiled, a gentle and adoring look in his eyes that Jayce could not appreciate, as his eyes were still clamped shut. "We go home, get relaxed, and I tickle you senseless until you're worn out. Sound fair?"

What didn't sound fair was how flirty he sounded. Jayce's face burned red, and he knew he couldn't hide it. He buried his face into Viktor's chest.

"I'll take that as a yes."

And with that, the tickling stopped. Only for this moment. Viktor's hands now cradled his husband's face, pulling it out from his chest and against his forehead.

"You make me so stupidly weak" he said, pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Which one of us has been *laughing themselves stupid* for the past five minutes?"

That got a giggle out of Viktor. With a final poke in the side, he grabbed his cane and turned toward the door, with Jayce grabbing their coats behind them.

"You don't think anyone heard us, do you?" Jayce asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Sky's not here today."

From behind the closed door, Sky took that as a sign to leave quickly, and she did so without a sound.

---

I swear I am actually going to write lee!viktor soon trust

[chunkysoup22]

have you gone to an art college or done any kind of schooling? i really love your art and i'd love to know how you've furthered your craft

Nopeee would’ve loved to go to school for animation or concept art or something but unfortunately illustrative art is a horrible career field and costs 1 jillion dollars. I’m doing a graphic design degree at a public college and hoping to find some stability in that field.

I feel as though I progress very slowly unfortunately.. I could attribute that to lack of formal art schooling but at the same time everything I’ve learned has been on my own, all it takes really is time and determination.

I’m still doing my best to learn and get better but the fundamentals of illustration and design will take you very very far. It’s very hard to work abstractly without a basis of reality to work with. Ignoring fundamentals kept me at a plateau for a very very long time.

However that’s easier said than done, as much as it can help sitting down and studying muscles and skeletons FUCKING SUCKSSS! You should still do that but I found it much easier and rewarding to apply that study to how master artists draw bodies. Looking at the bumps and bends of a human face is one thing but seeing how someone angles them, which parts they exaggerate and what results that produces, helps immensely. Sorry I can’t offer much more than that but yeah, you gotta observe everything always 👁️

Also I can’t stress this enough, you have to draw more than just what you think is aesthetically pleasing or comes easy. You will learn a lot more tediously recreating an old man’s wrinkles than drawing the same smooth-faced people over and over again

[askblueandviolet]

Ask box is officially open for Mayor!

They're just a little eepy from working non-stop. But they are more than willing to listen to the words and questions that any of you have!

Don't worry, you can still ask Macaque any questions you want if you missed out on last time. But make sure that Mayor has a chance to shine XD

MASTER POST

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[seagreenstardust]

When Katsuki Bakugo needed saving, Izuku came up with a plan where Todoroki, Iida, and Kirishima went rocketing across the sky to reach him.

When Izuku Midoriya needed saving, it was Katsuki, Todoroki, and Iida who went rocketing across the sky to reach him.

Both times, our Twin Stars decided to set their own needs aside and allow the other’s trusted friend to take the lead in bringing them home. Izuku knew Kirishima was the right choice to get Katsuki away from the league quickly and safely, and Katsuki knew Iida was the better man for the job of catching up to Izuku and bringing him back.

Can we please just take a moment to appreciate the parallels. Please.

[cult-of-dollbabies]

its not like it's bad or anything but god I'm spotting so much shit i could've done different/better. What was it all even for

[bibleofficial]

god bless sleeping 12hrs nightly

[sturnioz]

fratboy!matt helps confident!reader get ready for a night out with her friends.

"stay still," matt murmurs, his voice low and steady as he stands in front of you, his chest bare with a thin silver chain hanging around his neck, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

one hand rests firmly on your head, grounding you, while the other holds your contact lens, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration as he brings the lens closer to your eye.

"baby, stay still.. stop flinchin' on me."

"your finger is practically in my eyeball, matthew," you huff through gritted teeth, feeling the heat of slight frustration rise. you flinch back again as the contact grazes your eye, a sharp scratch making you wince and you hiss softly, instinctively closing your eye as it begins to water. "matt!"

"sorry, sorry," he apologises quickly, stroking your head gently before his hand moves down to grip your chin, tilting your back back toward him. "i'm tryin'... just gotta keep still f'me, 'kay baby?"

you furrow your eyebrows, giving him a slight glare. "tell me to stay still one more time..."

"shhh," matt shushes you as he grips your chin with just enough force to get your attention, a warning in his eyes as you feel the urge to snap back. instead, you take a deep breath and hold your tongue, allowing him to focus. and with careful precision, he finally places the contact lens in your eye. "there we go, all done mama."

with a grin, he squeezes your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans down, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to your lips before he pulls away and moves to stand behind you.

you begin your makeup routine, feeling a comfortable rhythm as you work. matt watches silently, his ringed hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs occasionally pressing into your skin, massaging away any tension while you apply your makeup with practised ease — you know exactly what works for you, whether bold or subtle, and the familiarity of your routine allows you to move quickly.

before long, you finish up, adding a dark coat of gloss to your lips. you rub them together, making sure to have an even spread, and you lean back in your chair to admire your reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile creeping across your face.

"when d'you need to leave?" matt asks, leaning over your shoulder, his chest warm against your skin as he reaches for your jewellery scattered across your vanity.

"half an hour," you reply, glancing at your phone as you tilt your head slightly, feeling his fingers brush against your ears as he clips your earrings in with ease, the gentle tug making you smirk. "why? trying to get rid of me that quick or something?"

"funny." matt retorts, pressing his hand gently to the side of your neck and squeezing lightly in warning for your words before he helps fasten the necklace, his fingers grazing against your chest as he adjusts the pendant until it sits perfectly.

with a smooth motion, his hand curls under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. when he leans down to give you a kiss, you instantly make a noise of protest and shake your head, trying to pull away but he keeps a firm grip.

"no way. i'm not letting you mess up my makeup, matt."

"y'can just reapply it," he whispers against your lips, his breath fanning across your face as he leans in again, attempting to kiss you again but you're determined to fight back. "kitty."

"no," you refuse, your sharp nails reaching up to grab his hand, trying to pry it off your chin, but he holds on, his grip unwavering. "i'm serious, matt!"

"so am i," he drawls, a glint in his eyes. "reapply it."

before you can even muster another retort, he closes the distance between you, pressing his mouth to yours. you let out a frustrated noise, muffled against his lips, but his kiss is insistent — slow and warm, mulling you in.

as his lips move against yours, he deepens the kiss, coaxing you to relax and give in as his thumb gently strokes your jaw. you let out a quiet huff before surrendering, kissing him back as your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. the awkward position strains your neck, but you hardly care — not when you can feel matt's tongue slowly pushing into your mouth.

you can taste the sweetness of your gloss on him and you nip down on the wet muscle, a reminder to not get too carried away, and he groans at the sensation, pulling away from you with a wet smooch, rolling his eyes as his thumb wipes away the remnants of gloss that now smudges his lips.

you turn your head toward your mirror, meeting your own gaze, and the reflection shows the chaos of your lip gloss — smeared and uneven, just like you had predicted. with a deadpan expression, you glance back at matt, and he smirks, giving you a wink as you quickly clean up the mess and reapply a fresh coat.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[chocosvt]

just came face to face with the paragraph limit

[californiaquail]

today was unbelievably insane which is to say it was pretty normal until like 12:30 pm when he decided to do an emergency pyometra spay on a uhhh 7 year old frenchie boston terrier. i was so nice to her owner cause she was so upset and crying about dropping her off before we even knew about the pyo but then it turned out her email was thin blue line something and then she told me she feeds her (7‽) dogs (all rescues supposedly) 5 different kinds of kibble "for the vitamins" along with cheese and gravy and ground meat. and how royal canin (the only product that she listed worth feeding) is "just awful chemicals" but she sprinkles it in sometimes. also how she knows her dog's nails are long but she "lets them curl around so it's easier to cut them." and then her dog tried to bite me and everyone. ma'am i should have been an asshole to you my bad

[byanyan]

down to one draft left from november and then i'm in to december and january!!! i'm getting so clooooose to being caught up

[thebeautifulfantastic]

<3

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I just got Shinon for the first time in this file. 🤣