#writing assignment i thought i would post

[suddencolds]

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks. 

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around. 

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow. 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says. 

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

 “He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this… 

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him? 

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return. 

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will. 

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that. 

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe. 

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

[faiell]

yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[astonmartingf]

When r u updating!

uhm to be honest, i have no idea when 😬

thank you for asking though !!!! because i am still writing in my drafts, maybe next week after my exams, i'm still trying to manage my schedule and now that i'm a month in, i already know the ropes, plus rn i'm assigned at the more busy parts of the laboratory and every shift makes me want to sleep immediately and prepare for the next shift but in a few weeks we will be rotating and finally moving to the less busy areas so i might have more time to write and actually post my drafts n e ways!!!! here are my drafts which you might see that i've written it over a month ago but that's what internship does to me so 💪

[blossoms-phan]

I need to print out or pin that post somewhere about taking breaks from dnp to just like focus on your own life bc they’ll always be there I’ve been an avid viewer since 2014 only taking a small break sometime in between the hiatus but obviously like everyone else my online phannieism has come back full force since the comeback i only started using tumblr again around december but I would use another blog just to lurk and like posts I made this blog less than 2 months ago which is insane to me I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives since then and it’s been so much fun being able to interact with other phannies and share my thoughts in a way that I haven’t interacted with the phandom since like 2015 but it has also rapidly increased my brainrot i already spent most of my free time just rewatching old videos and edits but I’ve noticed since like gamingmas my mind is constantly occupied with dnp and posting and whether my ask got answered and like I’m unemployed lmao so it’s all fun and games to a certain point but I’m also a student and I genuinely think me being weak and flawed in the brain and getting easily distracted has derailed me in my last semester of uni which is kind of not good I’m like oh lol it’s so funny and relatable I just love dnp!!! but there’s also phannies in med school and other stuff which is great and I genuinely feel like I’m holding myself back personally and professionally with how much time I spend thinking about them again I don’t think it’s a bad thing I just need to train myself into being More Normal and maybe blocking off times for blogging and watching and actually focusing on my life y’know

[hazellvsq]

ideal hazel levesque careers

wall street broker

cement mason

urban spelunker

cowboy

archaeologist

hedge fund manager

oil painter

speleologist

jeweler

antiques dealer

backhoe operator

[vigilskeep]

colour symbolism breakthrough

[ectoplasmer]

Today in sociology we did an assignment where we had to read through statistics about marriage, reasons why people get married, divorce rates, views on how certain couples influence children, etc. and then we had questions at the end that had more to do with how *we* felt about marriage and what we thought about the other things brought up in the article and when I tell you it lowkey physically hurt to write out how I didn’t really care for marriage. good god

[icewindandboringhorror]

golf

[gremlinhourz]

genuinely expecting to fail my first class in college!! and its like as much as i can get upset at myself for continuing the cycle of procrastination that ive been trying to break free from for years, i also feel like the reason im primarily upset is because i feel like im disappointing others and/or giving them a bad impression of me. like im not upset because i think i could have done more, im upset because i think other people will think i could have done more. when like honestly with school ive just developed an "it is what it is" attitude, like all i can do is try and try again, and if that means taking eng111, crashing and burning, but most importantly learning, then taking eng111 again, so fucking be it

[fridayyy-13th]

i had so many things to do today, but i only wound up doing two. the two simplest things on the list, in fact. putting tabs on my sheet music and writing dates in my planner. no actual homework. (or more accurately, late work.) now a week of three classes' worth of work all has to be done tomorrow, and i already made plans with my friend for that afternoon. it's 1:32 in the morning. what am i doing anymore.

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU

Okay, look, I've head a System SY idea for a while now (in fact, some of the ideas for this were used when I was first planning out Locked & Loaded), but after seeing @/artsarasp's System!SQQ AU, the brainworms have been once again come alive and I just need to get this out into the world. This is a very bare bones idea that I (probably) won't actually write, so walk with me for a second! Also this is going to be a very, very long post.

In this idea, the System actually is an interdimensional organization that deal with creating new worlds based on stories and making sure these worlds continue working as intended and (eventually), sending transmigrators to worlds that need 'improvement' (this improvement being very subjectice depending on which worker is assigned which story).

In SY's case, he's just someone who usually works behing a screen, in the most exciting cases he gets to guide transmigrators around but most of the time he just makes sure the stories 'code' is running normally and nothing world-breaking is going on in the stories (like someone managing to find a hack to skip defining plot points, or activating God-Mode somehow). He's very happy with this arrangement, btw! He was never one to run around and his boss has warned him once or twice for apparently being 'way too harsh' on the few transmigrators he got to be a System for.

Unfortunately, one day he is assigned to 'manually inspect' a world because a certain co-worker of his (Shang Qinghua) had been sent down there to handle a glitch but had gone missing instead. When SY asks why was he being the one asked to do this (not that he doesn't care for his friend, but he REALLY isnt made for running around), his boss says SY is the only other one who is familiar enough with the world to not get lost.

So that's how he find out SQH had managed to get himself stuck on the world he created (as a joke even, he hadn't even expected that when he was messing around with the company's program he would actually be able to create a new world based on the shitty novel he'd written as a human). And of course, SQH only having one friend, subjected SY to the story.

SY grumbles and denies ever seeing anything about SQH's story (or liking it, even if his boss kindly points out they never mentioned SY liked it) but eventually he agrees; and that's how he finds himself being teletransported onto the world of PIDW, carrying a pair of Debugging Sheers he'd never thought he would have to hold (he calls them Big Scissors), with the mission of finding SQH and dealing with the glitch that was still somewhere in the world.

Though, when he goes to message his supervisor about the specifics (where he should go or what was the last known location of SQH), he finds out that his Personal System has apparently already been affected by the glitch ("ALREADY??") that he was realizing worked more like a virus. Fortunately some messages were still going through, and his supervisor notified him they couldn't send him directly to the location he needed to be, specially because the virus seemed to have fragmented and spread to various parts of the stories timeline. SY now has to jump around through time a few times and slowly cut doen the glitches caused by the virus.

Thus begins Shen Yuan's Great Narrative Haunting (in real time.).

Luckily, for him, the place he first appeared was already one of the spots the virus has infected the world, and it seems to be in a town not too far away from him, so with a quick activation of the 'Ghost Mode' function (avaiable for all System staff to make it easier when they have to manually fix something, making them invisible and untouchable), SY heads to the town.

The glitch actually doesnt take too long to find (it was a buggy tree clipping onto a nearby river, which only needs a snip of the Big Scissors to disappear from reality), but when SY and passing through the town to find some better signal for his Personal System so he can jump forward to the next stop, he sees a group of snickering kids leaving an alleyway. A bit curious, he passes by the alley and barely manages to see through the pouring rain and spot a trembling figure on the floor. Of course, PIDW was never meant to be a happy or forgiving world, so SY is not surprised at the idea that some kids were bullying a smaller kid, though it still makes him upset.

He kneels close to the child and turns off 'Ghost Mode', pulling out an umbrella from his inventory (yes, System staff ALSO get an inventory, no one wants to have to carry aroung those big ass scissors), covering him from the rain. The boy is shaking from the cold, and even if SY can't check the boy's identity (since his system is still buggy), he reasons the probability of him coming into contact with an important character is very small, and even if System staff aren't supposed to interact with characters, he limits himself to at least getting the boy out of the rain.

Luo Binghe later wakes in a bench underneath a small shop's roof, covered in a thick cloth, having no idea how he'd gotten there besides the vague dream (or memory?) of a strangely dressed person patting his hair and taking him into their arms. He notices the rain has stopped and he's perfectly dry. Shen Yuan, seeing the kid seems to be doing well, finally jumps to his next location.

It doesn't take long for SY to figure out where he is when he loads onto the next mission location, in fact, he's almost certain he'd recognize the bamboo forest and calm, almost dream-like atmosphere of Qing Jing Peak anywhere. Seeing there that Qing Jing even exists in the first place, he deduces Binghe is still not emperor, so this time he makes sure to not be seen by any characters. It also doesn't take for SY to find his next target, as a commotion behind him catches his attention.

And oh, if he isn't familiar with the scene. A few older looking disciples push around a smaller looking boy, while a girl insistently shouts for the leader of the older disciples to stop. SY barely managed to appreaciate how Luo Binghe looks so cute as a child before (who he assumes is) Ming Fan snatches rips an amulet out of Binghe's neck. It's quite the heartbreaking scene to watch live, poor Binghe fighting for the only remaining piece of his adoptive mother without even knowing he's destined to never see it again. SY's Personal System may be buggy but it's still functional enough to detect if SY has a direct impact on the main storyline, so SY is basically forced to stand still and watch.

Though, since he had a clear view of the whole scene, when Ming Fan throws the jade pendant into the forest, SY can perfectly follow the arch of the necklace and sees where it landed, which is when an idea pops into his head. Distantly hearing Luo Binghe and NYY frantically searching for a necklace they'll never find, SY spots where the fake jade glimmers high up on a tree brench, though it's glimmer is distorted by the distinct sight of a glitch corrupting it's form. If SY were to follow standard procedure, he'd just have to bring out his Sheers and snip the necklace out of existence, but looking at it... Would it be so bad if he debugged the necklace the longer way?

Besides, if Binghe has the necklace or not, it's not like this one item is going to interfere with the major story anyways. SY isn't stopping Binghe from falling into the Abyss, he's just... Returning a lost item to it's intended owner.

Later, after an exhausting afternoon of what seemed to be searching through every nook and cranny of Qing Jing Peak's surrounding forest, Luo Binghe goes back to the shed he sleeps in utterly defeat and feeling strangely hollow; that is, until he opens the door and finds a new, thick blanket neatly folded in the middle of the shed, way too clean to be anything he had previously owned, and atop of it, his precious jade pendent, sitting there as if it never even dissapeared. Luo Binghe distantly notices that nobody that visits the shed ever lets the door closed after they visit.

The third location SY goes to leaves him no time to acclimatize, as he's immediately attacked by a beast, and only after (struggling to) kill it, does SY notice the unfortunate situation he was placed into: the Immortal Alliance Conference. By this point, he's already figured out his Personal System is most likely using Binghe's energy as Protagonist to make up for the energy it can't use due to it being partially corrupted, and the energy it needs to save up so SY can go back to the System's head quarters, so it really wasn't a surprise that he would be sent to this specific plot point, but dammit can't he avoid having to be near the place where his favorite character is thrown into hell??

And, well, there's also the problem that a beast attacked him, which meant it saw him, which meant his Ghost Mode was also glitching out, and after fiddling around which a half functioning System interface, it seems that the presence of the virus here is stronger than the other places, though still not the biggest chunk. Truly, just the cherry on top of his situation that he'd have to scurry around and somehow manage to not bump into anyone.

As is his luck, as SY tries to head closer to where his System is signaling the glitch's presence, other monsters continue attacking him, which besides slowing him down a considerable amount, it also causes the risk of him being picked up by the people watching the Conference through the Spirit Eagles circling the area, which is the last thing he needs.

Eventually he goes to the closest spot he can to the glitch, but a snapping sound behind him sends him into full panic. A person stands behind him, which leaves SY wondering how he managed to miss someone sneaking up on him like this. "You seem to have dropped something." the person says, and SY eyes immediately fall to his body, scanning himself to what he might have lost, and his hand basically flies to his throat when he notices the tassle that is usually nestled there is missing. He quickly turns around, only to come face to face to the golden protagonist, mister Luo Binghe himself.

Binghe tries interrogating SY as to what he's doing, sneaking around the supposedly sealed off Conference grounds, and SY, in his panicked state (slightly fuelled by a fanboy-induced craze) tries to fumble for excuses, but only when Binghe finally understands that the feeling he gets when looking at this strange person is an undeniable sense of deja-vu and tries asking SY if they'd met before, a loud rumblind shakes the ground: the Abyss has opened.

SY feels even more panicked, cause what this means is eventually, not only will he be discovered by Luo Binghe (his supervisor is going to kill him), but he could possibly be discovered by Shen Qingqiu, of all people! He doesn't get too much time to think about his grand escape however, as a piercing shriek comes from the Abyss rift. Right, how could he forget about the Black Moon Rhinoceros Python? And-- Oh, of course! Of course the damn thing would be virus-infected object!

After teaming-up with Binghe, the both of them manage to subdue the monster long enough that SY managed to snip it, though while they both catch their breath, SY belatedly realizes he just helped Binghe fight with the monster he was supposed to fight. Alone! The monster who was supposed to break his demonic seal! And, like clockwork, he can distantly hear what can only be SQQ's hurried steps through the forest! FUCK!!

With no other option, and Binghe now wanting to continue his interrogation, SY hurriedly start to walk towards the Abyss rift, frantically giving Binghe tips about what he could do in the Abyss to have an easier time, though when he catches a glimpse of green robes between the trees, SY types something on a floating screen and jumps backwards, Binghe letting out a shocked scream. Unfortunately, the protagonist won't be able to do nothing about the seemingly insane and way too familiar man who just jumped into the Abyss, as a rustling sounds behind him, and he's met with a newly regenrated Black Moon Rhino.

SY feels horrible about spawning a new one after Binghe just finished fighting one, but the story must continue, and with his Personal System finally free from most of the virus corruption, SY leaves one last gift as an apology and warping away before hitting the Abyss' ground. Later, when Binghe wakes up at the bottom of the rift after being pushed by SQQ, the first thing he sees is a qiakun pouch, full of useful items and tiny note at the bottom that reads 'Sorry!'

Pt.2

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals�� you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[woaza]

Skully J. graves X Yuu!reader

Contains : Head cannons (Mostly J. Graves coming back to live with Yuu in ramshackle)!

Word count : 460 (super short!)

Warnings : None!

A/n : I want to make a fic about him soon and post (more) Twst content! I’m definitely gonna do multiple fandoms on this account but I’m just trying to write more! So if you have any Twst request please lmk!

Also more Delico Nursery fics for sure, just trying to post shorter fics while I’m still busy.

— He retains confusing knowledge, and is strangely thoughtful. He won’t know how to do some basic things sometimes. Yet you’ll be struggling on an advanced assignment from professor Crewel and he’ll somehow know the answer???

“Skully! This assignment is so confusing? Magic theory is confusing, it hardly seems fair to give me a an assignment on advanced magic theory when I can’t even use magic!” He simply Nods his head and leans over your shoulder and glances at the paper. “Oh this is rather simple (then gives an in depth explanation)” which has you stunned for a moment “Skully you didn’t know what a casserole was yesterday? How do you know this?”

— Yet he will never forget facts about you. From your birthday to your preferences on certain foods. Especially if you’re picky he has all your icks memorized.

You and Skully were growing bored on a weekend. Normally time that would be spent with your friends was unfortunately taken from you. Everyone seemed to have plans. Including Grim which is strange (he had detention). So you two walked down to Sam’s shop. You and him stand in an isle looking at various different options. “Skully which ones should we get?” You say turning slightly to look at him. Without a beat of his hesitation, he instantly reaches for your favorite ones. “These ones.” Holding out the bag to you. “Those are my favorites! Good choice.” You smile happily and he quickly responds. “I know.”

— Adores grim! Despite Grims attitude towards him. Grim was neutral towards the man until it he decided to “Get to close to his henchmen”. Alarms went off in Grims head when he was told that Skully would be coming back to NRC with Yuu. He was extremely unhappy, but then he was told he would be staying in ramshackle? Grim practically lost it and pouted for weeks. Though Skully just thinks it’s amusing and earns his trust through tuna cans. (As you had instructed him to do.)

— I literally imagine life with this man as the Adam’s family. If you choose to marry him you all are going to be different in the best way possible. The whole nine yards, cutting off the head of the flowers and only giving you the stems. Your children sharing their father’s obsession with Halloween.

— Best friends with the ghosts in ramshackle. Often times you can overhear them gossiping through the thin walls. He compliments them on their abilities to scare people.

— Major Gentleman! He pulls out all your chairs and opens every door for you. Seven forbid you ever take off your coat without his help. He is simply so deeply Enraptured with you. When he takes off your coat he always takes a couple of moments to admire you. Always having to ground himself.

Another A/N: I’m so excited for Halloween!!

[sinterblackwell]

to the two people who responded to my very long discussion post for our final online assignment and made me really emotional at 10pm with your kind words, you deserve everything good in the world and so much more.

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

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