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couldawouldashoulda50 · 4 months

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A heart full of regret - Part 2 (William Nylander)

Part 1 is here

A/N - I’m going to start this off with an apology. I’ve been writing as a female reader insert but did have a specific picture of someone in my mind for the reader herself, in terms of physical traits etc. Looking back, I should have probably made this a William x OC story. I apologize if the body/hair/facial descriptions have made it difficult in any way to have the reader put some version of themselves into the story. I’m sort of learning as I go along.

I had planned to release this around the holidays but true to form, my personal responsibilities derail my escapism 😉

In this next part, there are some musician/song references to the late Shane MacGowan/The Pogues and Sinead O’Connor, as well as their respective funerals. I have included the lyrics to the chorus of a song entitled Fare Thee Well Love by The Rankin Family (posted in the next blub 2.1) - but it’s passed off as a song written and sung by the reader. While there are facts used as part of the story (including a couple of links to the reality), all of this is meant to be purely fictional.

Warnings - overall 18+ themes (various sexual references), angst, alcohol, swearing, cigarettes, brief mention of illness/death - sorry if I missed anything.

Word Count 10K+

Thanks so much as always for dropping by.

Early December, 2023

A wide grin spans your face as the broad man, with salt and pepper hair (more salt than pepper these days), approaches you.

“Hey handsome” you said cheekily followed with a wink, as he embraced you in a friendly hug. “I hope it’s still ok that I call you that….it’s the first thing that comes to mind every time I see you”.

“Best compliment I have had all day, next to my wife’s of course. How ya’ doin, kid?” Sheldon smiles at you as you step back from him. Sheldon has always called you “kid” despite him only being just shy of 13 years older than you.

“Well then, as long as Jackie doesn’t mind that I call you that either”,' you smile as you and Sheldon walk toward the players lounge. “I’m doing well…busy, but good.”

“Ah well, you know my wife - she just laughs and agrees with you…she says you obviously have immaculate taste” Sheldon quips.

You chuckle and give him a little nudge. “Yeah, well, in most cases I do”, you smile. “Dare I ask how you’re doing? I’m not asking about hockey…I just mean with the regular, normal-ish part of your life, if you even have that.”

“I need more normal these days than what I’ve been getting…but yeah, the kids and Jackie are all doing great. Thank God for them.”

You get the hint. The Leafs have been shaky out of the gate this season with inconsistent outcomes; it’s been like watching a pendulum swinging between pure magic and potential disaster.

You shoot Sheldon a knowing smile.

“Well, thanks for letting me stop by - I didn't like asking…I don’t want to ever be any kind of distraction, but I have something special to give Jake (McCabe) and Gaby wanted me to surprise him here after practice.”

“You gonna let me in on the secret?”

You lift the heavy coffee-table style book that you had been carrying along your side into view and run your hand over the smooth hard cover. Sheldon glances at the black and white photo of you spanning the surface. The photo was taken at one of your band's first sold out shows in Manchester back in 2010; you were just in your 18th year of life. Your long layered hair is tousled around your face; a cigarette dangles from your mouth.

“Yeah, I kinda love this. I’m so happy with how this turned out…the imagery and photography of all the guitars are amazing. We’re selling these books at the exhibit…it chronicles the collection of the guitars on display.”

You flip to a page showing a nickel and steel plated guitar from the 1930’s.

“I met Jake ages ago, back when he was on the Sabres. He and Gaby approached us after an acoustic show that we played. We just hit it off, all of us - Jake and I are both total guitar geeks and over time, he told me his dream was to have one of these nickel plated beauties. I said I had one that was rare which he totally flipped out about it - it’s this one in the picture”, you smile as you recount the conversation.

“Wow…it's really beautiful”, Sheldon leans over to take a closer look.

You continue your story, “So, I’m not sure - have you heard of Shane MacGowan?”

“Oh right, my brother became a huge fan when he moved to Belfast - Adam told me he passed. You knew him?”

“Our band has strong Irish connections with two of our members being from there; we met Shane and some of The Pogues a number of years ago. We managed to stay in touch - I was very fond of Shane, and he was of me. He was almost like a protective older uncle - know what I mean? He had a rough go with that illness since last year and so after Sinead (O’Connor) passed, I stayed behind after her funeral and spent some time visiting him in the hospital. My heart breaks every time I remember him in that hospital bed - I haven’t been able to get those images out of my mind yet.”

Your emotions were already still pretty raw with your idol-turned-friend passing in July, but with another passing of someone you held so dear just a few days ago, you could feel your throat tighten with sadness and loss.

You took a deep breath. “Anyway, Shane played the same type of guitar in a duet he sang with Sinead back in the ‘90’s. Long story short, he had his wife give me the one he used for that song. As much as I love the one I already owned here, Shane’s means a thousand times more to me. So…I thought I would surprise Jake and give him this one, knowing how much he would treasure it”.

Sheldon continues to leaf through the glossy pages. “Y/N, you are pretty remarkable, you know that?” Sheldon throws his arm around you while discreetly looking at his watch. “I’m sorry, I gotta run but I know Jake will be coming through here any minute so just sit tight and he’ll be out. Oh - and Jackie was talking about having you over for dinner so she’ll be reaching out to you soon. See ya’, kiddo”. Sheldon gives your shoulder a little squeeze and then disappears down the hallway.

Over the years, you have become a welcome sight around the Leafs organization; your presence had essentially reached the point of being more or less commonplace and didn’t warrant the media coverage that it once did. You helped out with various MLSE charities as well, having a preference for more of the hands-on local charity initiatives, whenever time allowed it.

Ultimately, you had established some strong personal connections within the Leafs and their families, so whenever you were in Toronto, it was not an out of place thing to occasionally see you turn up at a practice or out to dinner with a few of the WAGs.

As you waited for Jake, various staff and players stopped by for a quick catch-up before heading home for the day.

Jake eventually emerged in his Leafs tracksuit, freshly showered with a baseball cap on backward. He spots you and gives you a wide smile, mixed with some confusion, as he approaches you. Gio appears right after Jake and the two circle around you for a hug.

With the book concealed, you make small talk with the handsome veterans. They congratulate you on the gallery exhibit and they assure you they cannot wait to go and see it.

Two dogs suddenly appear out of nowhere; it doesn't take you long to determine they belong to William.

Knowing he would be appearing any second, you try to calm your nerves and focus solely on the dogs as they run towards you, jumping at your feet.

Your heart melts at the sight of them, and you gush “Oh my goodness, is this Pablo and Banksy?”

William hears your voice and stops dead in his tracks. His stomach flips and churns and his heart starts to race.

Oh my God, if that's her…holy shit…

He rounds the corner to see you bending down, allowing the dogs to completely envelop you.

“C'mon, whoa, whoa, whoa….boys - down…”, William chuckles and smiles at you somewhat apologetically.

“I don’t mind one bit…but you better listen to your Dad” you said to Pablo, giving him another scratch and rub as you stood up.

You smile at William who is posturing for an embrace and as his arms pull you in, as you reciprocate the gesture.

“How’s it going, William….” which you say as more of a statement than a question.

“Really good. It’s good to see you again”, William smiles widely, hardly believing you're in front of him now.

Before you melt or explode or however your body is reacting to his touch, you calmly say “you too” with a smile.

Turning back to Jake and Gio, you desperately hope you don’t appear as flustered as you feel.

William comes up on your one side while Jake and Gio, and even a few others have gathered around a countertop in the lounge.

“So, I have a bit of a surprise for Jake - that’s why I’m here. Actually, Jake’s wife is in on the surprise so I’m just going to call her real quick”.

The men that had gathered look at Jake who appears a little panicked, but in the best way possible.

Gaby answers and you ask Gio if he could hold the phone up, showing her face on the screen, in which he obliges once waving hello to Gaby.

You flip the heavy, hardcover book around; everyone leans in to get a glance at the cover. William catches a glimpse of the photo of you on the cover. He's not seen many images of you from when your career started, and the photograph captivates him immediately. Your tousled hair, your eyes that always bore into his soul, and your beautiful mouth that many times had made William almost see God himself.

William discreetly gazes at you.

You had been polluting his thoughts since he saw you at Mitch’s wedding. He wished you could have stayed. He wished he could have talked more with you; maybe could have danced with you…or better still, touched you for the first time in 4 years.

As you begin to explain the details of Jake’s surprise, you try to tame the whirlwind of emotions that circle within you. Between the loss of a dear friend, the anticipation of giving Jake a guitar that he has only dreamt of, and the remnants of feelings that you carry for William, you have to pause a few times while you speak just to regain your composure and keep the tears at bay.

William watches you open the book, and as you flip to the desired page to show Jake his newest possession, pangs of guilt and regret hit William.

William was famous for his confidence; he rarely burdened himself with many heavy thoughts, as he did not waste time dwelling on the past or anything that he could not change. The anointed King of Unbothered. And, as well as that has served him in both his personal and professional life, there were rare moments where something or someone shook him right to his core.

As he studied the side profile of your face, at this moment, you were that very person. Someone he realized that he had carelessly, and foolishly, disposed of. He disposed of your friendship, your companionship, and your love. Four years ago, he cut all ties with you, which was well within his right to do. But, the manner in which he severed those ties, never once affording you the ability to say a word in response, still haunted him to this day. What was worse is that two years later, he reached out to you, seemingly desperate to get a hold of you, and then he ghosted you once you responded. Your head spun with even more confusion and hurt than you had ever felt before and as time went on, it was yet another proverbial nail in the coffin for you and William.

William mused that when he saw you at Mitch’s wedding, you could have behaved any number of ways. You could have gone out of your way to ignore him. You could have been snide and made his entire night hell. You could have berated him for his callousness. He probably deserved all three of these possibilities.

Instead, you greeted him with kindness and friendship, which to William, only further illuminated your ravishing beauty. The way you still managed to smile at him, even though he sensed a deep sorrow behind your beautiful, deep brown eyes, it rocked William’s typical carefree nature.

And now you stood before him and his teammates, gifting Jake a precious guitar simply because you knew how happy it would make him to have it. William’s chest heaved with a mix of deep desire and the stark reality of the mistakes he's made with you.

William’s mind snapped back to the present, smiling at his teammate as Jake reeled and appeared completely flabbergasted.

“I can’t believe you remembered that conversation about this guitar, Y/N…that was ages ago. Jesus - I still played for Buffalo at the time…I cannot believe you’re giving this to me” Jake said, his face flushed as he looked at you and then turned to his wife’s face on the phone “and you knew about this…” he grins at Gaby.

“Can’t wait to hear you play for me, baby”, Gaby said, blowing Jake a kiss.

“Ok, so once the exhibit closes, I’ll get the guitar prepped for you and have it delivered. There are some nuances to how to tune her so I’ll drop by sometime and walk you through it. Oh, and here - the book is for you as well” you smile wryly at Jake “sorry, I think I diminished its value by signing it….but there is a little note for you in there for you too” you chuckle.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this but thank you so much Y/N. I’m completely stunned.”

After hugs were given and goodbyes were said, the small group dissipated.

You turned to see William standing off to the side, glancing at his phone while Pablo and Banksy lay at his feet.

“Awh, your boys are tired” you said, unable to contain your smile looking at the two dogs, and then at William. “They’re awesome - it figures you’d have the most fly dogs ever”.

“You ever think about getting one? I guess it’s hard with all your travel but you can take them with you. I take these guys along with me all the time, almost everywhere I go”.

“When COVID started, I was in London…I started fostering from a nearby shelter. I wanted to give the dogs that were constantly overlooked a chance to get out of that environment and see if we could get some viable adoption candidates. I have been doing that here as well - my last girl just got adopted after being in a shelter for over 8 years; I just haven’t had the chance to go see another one to bring home.”

You bring out your phone and lean towards William to show a picture of the last dog in your care, Siba, a nine-year old Asian Shepherd.

William cheeks flushed pink as he catches the scent of your fragrance; a sudden urge to have his lips graze your skin as he recounts each location on your body where you usually dabbed each drop of perfume has his mind racing and his cock hardening.

Either side of your neck.

Sometimes behind your ears.

Your wrists.

Between your breasts.

Sometimes a little swipe across your navel.

“She’s so beautiful…” William said, hoping that you’d get the subtle hint he might be referring to you as well.

You shift uncomfortably for a second; he’s standing so close that you can feel his breath.

No. He didn’t get to do this to you again. The innocent remarks that whisper allusions to his desire for you is what you thought you wanted to hear for the past 4 years. But, all the sentiment is doing now is creating havoc in your mind.

You swipe the screen to close the photo down and drop the phone back into the pocket of your coat. You turn back to William and smile, now in a little more control of yourself than before.

“Christmas came early this year I guess…for both Siba and Jake.” you said, as you lean down to pet the dogs again and say goodbye.

“Oh - wait…speaking of Christmas…” William hesitates, sensing a slight change in your disposition. “I have been meaning to get in touch with you about that…”

“Oh, right - yeah…no worries…your Mom reached back out to me and said you gave the thumbs up for staying at the house. She mentioned you would reach out but I’m sure you’ve been pretty busy.”

William has an inkling when you’ve mentioned him being “busy”, you’re not referring to his hockey schedule.

“I’ve been working out some details with your parents already…it’s all good.” You tried not to sound too curt but there was a definite chill in your response.

William senses the conversation is quickly derailing.

William’s voice becomes low and soft. “Hey….maybe we could still get together sometime? Maybe drop by sometime? I'd kinda like to be involved with the Christmas thing and… it’s just there are some things that we maybe need to talk about.”

Talk. He’s about a million years too late for that, you think to yourself.

“If you feel there’s a need, sure. Let me know when and where…you moved, right?”

William’s expression changed, showing shades of remorse. “I’ll text you the address. I just have practices for now; we don’t play until the 7th so any afternoon is good. Today even, if that works for you”.

“I’m flying out to Ireland again late on the 5th so yeah - maybe today or tomorrow…”

Thinking back to your conversation at Mitch’s wedding, William joked with a slight smirk “Ireland again? Not another funeral I hope…”

You quickly looked away, tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“It is, actually” you said softly.

Oh my god, you idiot, William berated himself in his mind. ”Fuck…Y/N….I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have joked”.

“No, I know, Will. It’s ok…I’ll be ok” you smiled, faintly. It seemed like, for the thousandth time that day, you fought to suppress the ache deep within you and had to fight back tears.

William gently reached for your hand and pulled you into his arms. Involuntarily, you gripped onto his hoodie, probably a little too tightly, all in an effort to not completely fall apart in front of him.

You pull away, still trying to hide the anguish on your face with a smile. It broke William a little to see you struggling to maintain your composure. Always putting on a brave face, no matter how cracked or broken you felt, was what you did. It was how you were wired.

“Here…if you’re leaving, I’ll walk you out to your car” William said, searching for his keys in his pocket.

You were tempted to come up with an excuse to avoid spending any additional time alone with William, simply because every molecule in your body was inexplicably drawn to him.

Fresh out of reasons or rationale, your mind was too overwhelmed lately to come up with the excuse needed to flee in the opposite direction. The 4 of you walked down the corridor together in a comfortable silence, and exited into the parking lot.

Pablo and Banksy bolt forward out into the daylight, but do not stray far from their Dad, as they happily jump on each other while nearing your vehicle. William smiled to himself and shook his head. Of course your vehicle of choice wasn’t a super luxury SUV or sports car. You took your key fob out and unlocked the black crew cab 4x4 truck. He could picture it now; you in your tank top and jeans, covered in dirt and dust with your work gloves on, hauling lumber and bags of concrete mix for a mini home project.

You were always a parallel of opposites.

Poised and immaculate at high-profile events and functions versus you at home, decked out in ripped work clothes with sweat and sawdust stuck to every part of your body.

Your ultra-cool and larger than life demeanour on stage as you absorbed the electric energy from the crowd versus your sometimes quiet, humble, and super composed personality off stage.

Your vocabulary and your way with words versus your ability to spout off more profanity than a pissed-off truck-driver.

The innocent and submissive side you showed William while making love on many occasions, when he was between your thighs versus the absolute rocket you became when you flipped the switch and took complete control of his body.

“So….what about today. Do you think you could come by later on…I could order in some food - we could catch up?”

You open the door to your truck and Pablo and Banksy both put their front paws on the running board, their tails wagging furiously.

You look at them and chuckle, and bend down to let them bombard you with affection.

“Yeah, you know what…sure, that sounds good. But if you don’t send me your address and end up ghosting me yet again…William….I just - don’t even….”, shaking your head and chuckling, leaving the sentence unfinished. You hop into the truck and William shoo’s the dogs away from the truck door.

“Awh - Y/N - fuck…” William winces at your sarcasm, rubbing the back of his neck, showing a mix of guilt and acknowledgement that he deserved it. “I’m not going to do that”.

“Uh-huh….famous last words,” you said in a cheeky tone, rolling your eyes as you turned the ignition on. “I guess we’ll see you later…bye boys…”.

William chuckled and watched you drive off towards the exit. Walking back to his SUV with the dogs in tow, he felt an excitement, to the point of giddiness, which he hadn’t felt in ages about anyone. He had no idea how the future would pan out but he could at least look forward to tonight so the two of you could finally clear the air.

William arrives home and after one last bathroom break for the dogs, he starts his typical routine of making calls while eating whatever he picked up from the chefs at the rink or on the way home. He knows your food preferences and makes a mental note of which restaurant he’ll call for take out from. The last thing he does before his afternoon siesta is a quick home delivery order of red wine and other essentials.

He stretches out on the couch that he recently had deep-cleaned due to his last few

sex-capades, none of which seemed to end well or at least warranted an invite for a return visit. He begins to drift off; his dogs curled up around his feet and legs.

Panic suddenly grips him as he realized he had not sent you his address.

See? no 👻 - 😉 William texts as he sends you the address.

If I had forgotten - what a fuckin disaster William thought before falling into a restful sleep.

A couple of hours later, and at least an hour before William was ready to wake up, his phone began to dance and vibrate on the coffee table. Groaning, he grabs the phone off the table and fumbles with it until he can focus on the caller.

The name “Trina” is illuminated on the display.

“Fuuuuuuck” William grumbles while forcing the call to voicemail. “Should have fucking blocked her”.

Since the last time William and Trina had seen each other, there had been a few harmless texts; mostly Trina following up on William’s health and well-being.

Despite the rather unappealing outcome of their last meeting, William had started to think perhaps he had been too hasty in judging their first sexual experience together. She was beautiful, eager, and readily accessible; these are the exact qualities William needed for a short term fling. He decided to keep his options open, although he continued to feign being unwell until he was ready to see Trina again.

This all was, of course, prior to William seeing you again.

A voicemail notification appears on the screen followed by a text message bubble.

Missing you - let me come by and make you feel better

William rubs his hand over his face, stroking his moustache as he thinks about how to respond. Thanks but I’ll be ok. Just need some more rest. I’ll msg you soon. Good enough, William thinks and sets his phone back on the table.

He leans back on the couch, and closes his eyes again, when another chime sounds from his cell.

“Jesus - take a fucking hint…” he mutters, grabbing his phone.

It’s from you:

You sure about the no 👻… you didn’t tell me what time… have you already started 🏃?

William laughs and responds:

I’m not gonna 🏃… too tired. I might hide tho. How’s 5?

Dots appear as you type your response:

Ooof 💀. K - see you then.

90 minutes from now. Fuck. I should have told her 4.

William continues to read your text exchange over again as he smiles to himself. You always succeeded in making William laugh, no matter how small the exchange was. Your individual senses of humour seemed to mesh flawlessly - he seemed to get you and your little idiosyncrasies, the same way you understood his.

He looked forward to the possibility of earning your friendship back and maybe even more. William wondered if you had met anyone; he had heard rumblings a while ago about you catching the eyes and interests of a few other NHL’ers but he hadn’t heard anything since. In William’s mind (and he was aware he had no claim on you), he dreaded the idea of you being with anyone, but there was something so much worse if that guy was another hockey player in the league.

He pushed those thoughts to the side; he would need to establish rumour and fact later, and it made him queasy just thinking about it.

Rather than trying to steal a few more minutes of sleep, William putters around the condo tidying up here and there, but feeling no pressure in having the place look unlived in.

Nerves were starting to build. William seemed to wander aimlessly from one room to the other, serving no other purpose than to kill time. Although he had a shower after practice, William decided on another long shower to help him relax, and to allow him to take some additional care with his grooming regimen.

William steps into the hot water and closes his eyes as the warmth and the steam envelop him. Every quiet moment lately, William has thought about the two of you and your past. Memories that never seem to erode; images that William would often rely on when he needed to drift off to sleep or relieve some built up “tension”.

Streams of water weave their paths down William's broad chest, through his chest hair and down his toned abs, eventually trickling down the veins of his cock, and dripping off the tip. He begins to feel a stirring, an urge with the thoughts of your arrival. William's strong hand gingerly wraps around his shaft and he begins to pump himself with long, methodical strokes.

He remembers the occasions with the two of you in the shower….

….you on your knees before him and encouraging his cock further into your mouth until the tip is rubbing against the back of your throat. With his hand fisting the hair at the back of your head, you allowed him to fuck you deep in your mouth until you tasted the pre-cum seeping onto your tongue. William marvelled with how much your mouth could accommodate as you expertly controlled your gag reflex and breathing. It seemed with your years of voice and mouth exercises, the benefits were many, beyond simply increasing your vocal range and pitch.

As William spouted broken sentences of praise for what you were doing to him, you would masterfully take control of his cock with your hands, stroking his girth, alternating between licking and sucking the rounded head as it turned shades of feverish reds and purples. William’s grunts and loud groans never ceased to arouse you as William began climaxing. You lapped at his balls, gently sucking on them as you continued to pump his shaft. You ached to hear the warnings before he cums, desperately waiting for him to unload. Gripping his ass, your mouth engulfs his cock, your head moving back and forth at a frenzied pace. You force the oozing head towards the entrance of your throat. William’s hand cradles the back of your neck, allowing you to look up. Your eyes locked on each other as his seed coated the inside of your mouth. You smile as you enjoy the taste of him, and slowly guide his cock away from your open mouth as strings of your spit mixed with his cum stretch from the head. Your eyes remain fixed on his; soft smiles and intimate words are lovingly exchanged as you continue to lap, suck and fill your mouth again and again with his generous cock.

William shuddered as he watched you intently overtaking his semi-erect member into your mouth. With you maintaining his heightened arousal, the urge to spread your thighs apart for him to greedily feast on your pussy took hold. You always claimed to be a better giver than receiver, but William was now hell-bent on respectfully pushing your boundaries. Without fail, each and every time, you had given him the hottest oral of his life, and William was determined to reciprocate until your pussy was properly worshipped.

He pulled you up and pressed you hard against the shower wall with his thick and muscular frame. He scanned your face, focusing his gaze on your lips; he watched as the water washed away the remainder of his cum that had oozed from your mouth. He used his thumb to slowly guide the fluids back into your mouth, allowing you to suck on the tip of his thumb. He kissed you; his lips were hungry and eager on your mouth as his tongue manoeuvred around yours. His hands moved skillfully from massaging your tits, down along your sides, and towards the front of your abdomen. You let out a gasp and bit your lip hard as 8 fingertips gently landed with a faint, feather-like touch near your pussy, as he began to lightly graze your wet and ready folds. You begin to shiver at his touch and have the goosebumps to prove it; your pussy is past the point of throbbing and you are almost on the fringes of insanity waiting for William to binge on your core.

He wanted to mark you tonight. His mouth slid down your body, nipping and sucking some of the most pleasurable, albeit discreet, areas of your toned body. As he knelt on the shower floor, he caressed your long leg, leaving love bites at the apex of your slender thigh which he then guided one over his shoulder. His mouth instantly latches onto your folds as he slowly strokes your clitoris with his pointed tongue. You shriek, reacting to William suddenly engaging his jaw muscles to tongue-fuck you in concert with mercilessly licking your clit. William rubbed his facial hair repeatedly over your most sensitive spots, feasting on your swollen pussy as if it was his favourite dessert, moaning with pleasure as your arousal hit his taste buds. He loved hearing you cry out his name, watching you let go of your usual collected composure and allowing him to help release your inner inhibitions.

As an added bonus, he inserted his middle and ring fingers slowly and deeply inside your cunt. He adjusted and moved the ends of his fingers eventually hitting the most desirable spot as he watched you writhe in pure ecstasy. He wanted to see you succumb to the sensation as he continued lapping and stroking your clitoris with his tongue. He began to move his fingers rapidly in and out of your entrance, until your thighs began to shake and quiver involuntarily. William increased his already formidable pace with his fingers and his tongue as you fight not to collapse under the sheer magnitude of your impending orgasm.

And when he brings you to the highest level of pleasure, he vigorously gyrates his fingers deep inside your core, inciting you to cry out as you squirt for him. After he made you spray for him a few more times, he laced his fingers with yours and he stood up, pressing you against the shower wall again. One hand slides back down to your pussy and he gently rubs two fingers against your engorged clit. William’s eyes are locked on yours as he slowly pulls his fingers up to his mouth, and wipes the sheen from your arousal on his pouting lips. He runs his tongue along the shiny trail he made with his fingers, whispering in your ear of how delicious you are.

Back in a lonelier shower, William’s head falls back under the steady stream of hot water that begins to collect in his open mouth as he’s reaching his orgasm. He spits it out and begins to grunt as streams of cum erupt into the flow of water heading to the drain on the shower floor.

He pants for a moment, catching his breath. He needed that. He needed to take the edge off before you arrived.

William steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his midriff. The steam quickly dissipates as he exits the bathroom into his bedroom, and he takes his time selecting the relaxed and casual attire for the evening. He glances at his phone to check the time. 4:30.

He sighs and smiles slightly; he’s really looking forward to tonight, to just have you there relaxing on his couch, catching up on the past few years.

He checks his messages, making sure there was nothing new from you. There is, however, another text from Trina.

My friend and I are going to Mademoiselle for Happy Hour and then dinner. Maybe it will do you good to come out - we can all have a little bit of fun?

Knowing the message will show as being read, William sends a short response.

Not tonight, but thanks anyway.

Trina responds with just an emoji showing her disappointment.

William shakes his head and finishes getting ready. Minutes tick on but it feels like hours, and he’s getting impatient.

The ringtone on his phone assigned to building Security begins to chime, startling William for a moment and each of the dogs perk up their ears in response. He answers the call and his stomach flips once the guard announces your arrival.

He can hardly believe how nervous he’s become and silently kicks his own ass in his head for being so ridiculous. But on the other hand, it’s you. The one girl he still finds himself longing for after so many years.

He props the door open wide enough so you can spot him once you get off the elevator; Pablo and Banksy sit at William’s feet anxiously anticipating the arrival of someone new.

Once the elevator reaches William’s floor, he can hear the chime and the doors sliding open. You step into the plush waiting area and then follow the signs pointing to the appropriate suite number.

You round the corner and see him waiting in his doorway. It’s no use to try and conceal your smile when your eyes land on his grinning face. He opens up the door allowing the dogs to fly down the hallway in your direction.

William watches you beam with delight as you bend down to greet the two.

After tummy rubs and a lot of cooing from you, the dogs follow you back towards the condo where you greet William with a friendly embrace.

William takes a moment to gaze at you; your curls are contained by a loose bun, you are dressed in a tan coloured pea coat, black turtleneck with black slacks. You managed to make clothing that were simple and understated look elegant and absolutely fucking sexy. He inhales deeply - your appearance already has William rattled.

He takes your coat and you remove your heeled boots at the entranceway. The dogs follow your every move as you scan his condo. Had it not been December and the days being so short, you could imagine how a sunny day would radiate throughout the place from the large windows and glass balcony doors from the living room.

“This is really beautiful, William. Such a fantastic part of the city too,” you said smiling, your eyes wide and shining.

“It’s small, but I’m on a waitlist for a larger place up on the penthouse floor. It’ll be better when my family comes to visit…so they don’t need to crash at your house at Christmas again” William laughs.

“Well, yeah…I get it but I have to say, I’m really looking forward to having them stay. It’s far too big for just me, so having some life around will be amazing. At the very least, I’m hoping someone in your family will kick your ass at ping-pong…or at any of the other games, really…” you smirk.

“Ha, yeah…never gonna happen…” William laughs.

“Ah, well…pardon me as I try to squeeze by the giant ego that just arrived”

“Ouch…hey, I'm just telling it like it is”.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Ok, King...let’s leave it there.”

The conversation and friendly banter ensues; there are no awkward moments or strained silences. The shared mood is happy and light and soul-warming, much like it had been all those years before. There was a tinge of bashfulness at times as you both would steal glances at each other. It seemed apparent that you both were still very much attracted to one another.

Prior to seeing him, there were moments that you found it annoying to still have these feelings simmering just beneath the surface, given your spirit had been shattered for much of the past four years. Nevertheless, he wasn't to blame for the anguish you shouldered…it's how life was; you caught deeper feelings for him than he did for you. End of story.

At that very moment, it didn’t matter anyway. Or at least, you were going to bury those thoughts way back in the proverbial closet for tonight.

The wine arrives via delivery, followed by dinner. You both opt to sit on the floor and eat at the coffee table in the living room, devouring the variety of sushi and sashimi pieces William had selected.

You filled him in on some of the different music and business ventures you had been a part of since COVID. He asked you about certain gigs and various celebrities, trying to get you to spill some dirt (although tempting, you did not oblige).

He in turn told you about some of his brother’s exploits with women, and you reminisced about the old days and the unhinged female drama involving Kasperi and his ex-girlfriends that you witnessed firsthand a number of years ago.

Your muscles in your face began to hurt from smiling and laughing; it’s been forever since you’ve been able to truly unwind like this. You realize that the wine is going down far too easily and you felt a little more buzzed than you should, with remnants of jet lag still plaguing you from the previous round trip from Europe.

William had excused himself to the bathroom, and in an effort not to submit to the wave of drowsiness that was creeping in, you got up off the floor and started cleaning up the containers and plates scattered around the table.

William appears from the hallway and tells you to leave everything - he will clean it up later.

“Ha – no, I need to move - I had a brutal travel schedule at the end of November and it nearly killed me. This exhaustion just strikes whenever, so I had to at least stand up…otherwise, you’re going to find me passed out on the floor. I feel like a narcoleptic lately. Plus - that wine…is really, really fucking good…I feel a little drunk,” your face flushed as you laugh.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want?”

You hesitated as waves of nostalgia and cautiousness, in equal measure, washed over you. “Are you sure - I wouldn’t want to cramp your style…”

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out some musings - or misgivings rather - about his current love life that had been bouncing around in your head.

“I’m sure your dance card is pretty full these days…maybe you’ve got a young model-type waiting for you later somewhere?” you try to joke as you rinse off the plates and stack them in the sink. Your fear that he'll see right through your comments as you look for some clarity on his current love life.

William chuckles and shakes his head; he knows this is partly because of what has been stirred up about his personal life during the Sweden trip.

Touch her. Hug her. Kiss her….do something William thinks.

“I’m positive…I really like this…us hanging out, you and me again. And…please - stop cleaning up” he laughs.

William offers you a small towel and helps you dry off your hands. He smiles as he gazes at you.

“It's really been amazing to see you,” William says softly.

You're certain that the surface temperature of your cheeks are reaching five alarm status as he pulls you closer against him as he leans against the kitchen counter. William feels your light touch as your hands gently lay on his chest.

He searches your face. “And we haven’t really talked about the stuff from before - with what happened with you and me. Do you think maybe we should?” William asks quietly.

You can only manage to look directly into his eyes for brief moments; anything longer will make you crumble.

“I think we can shelve it…it’s not going to change anything that happened before. It’s been such a fantastic evening already…I don’t think we should spoil it by dredging everything up from the past.”

You stare at the thick chain around his neck using it as your main focal point.

“Yeah, ok…you’re right. It doesn’t change anything that went down.”

You nod your head and look up at his face, blushing more heavily as you try to contain your wide smile.

Your head is swimming but your need to be in control of your emotions takes hold, and you apologetically excuse yourself and head to the washroom. William just smiles and lets his hands slide down your hips as he releases you from his embrace.

You try to stabilize your heart rate and your thoughts. Your desires versus your logic are each trying to get the upper hand in your mind. You take your time, willing yourself to sober up a bit before heading back out to William. You drink some water from the tap to try and dilute the effects of the alcohol you’ve consumed. You study your reflection in the mirror and after repositioning a few curls here and there and applying a little more lip gloss, you exit the bathroom.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door spurring the dogs to start barking. You hear William pad over to the entrance and pause for a moment before turning the lock and opening the door.

You hear a female’s voice shriek “Willy!! Heeeey….I missed you so much”.

You can hear the sound of bracelets clinking as the woman wraps her arms around William, followed by an audible kiss. It's crystal clear that she currently has something going on with William.

You hear the dogs muffling whines once William gently commands them to quiet down.

You stop dead in your tracks, feeling completely trapped. Part of you wants to return to the bathroom and not hear any of their conversation. The masochistic side, however, wants to hear every word.

Your brain begins to spiral out of control.

How did you manage to misread this situation again? What was that in the kitchen….was it meant to be platonic? Would he invite you here just to tell you about her?

It feels like a literal punch in the stomach, and you instinctively place your hand over your abdomen as though it would help numb the ache coursing through your body. You stand in the hallway, completely motionless as if your feet were concrete blocks.

“Trina, what are you doing…I mean, how'd you even get in?”

“I dunno, the security guy and the other one were dealing with somebody, someone else was leaving, they held the door, so…we just walked in. Oh, this is my best friend, Lara. I told her how fucking amazing our first date was. She's a fan of yours too. We were out for a few drinks and I thought the two of us could come by to help you feel better. You and I haven’t seen each other since the last time….I know you said not tonight but here we are,” Trina giggled, her words slightly slurred from intoxication.

Lara glared at her friend. Trina had said William was ok with them coming over anytime she wanted, and she claimed he would be game for anything they wanted to do.

William’s present demeanour is definitely contradicting Trina’s story.

For years now, Lara, being the pragmatic one of the two, had been suspicious of how much truth was behind Trina’s claims when it came to the men she had met and dated. True, William and Trina had sex; that much was obvious. However, based on the number of times Trina initiated contact versus William, Lara surmised William might be only willing to meet solely on his whim, given the tone of his short and dry text messages that Trina showed her. Trina was too wrapped up in all the media attention William had been receiving lately to even notice the bland tone behind each of his responses.

When Trina and Lara arrived at Mademoiselle that evening, Trina was clearly on a mission, ordering multiple Perfect 10 Martini’s because, in her inebriated words, she was exactly that. Her mission was to make sure William felt that about her too.

When Trina came up with the brilliant idea of dropping by William’s in order for the two ladies to seduce him and coax him into bed, Lara thought there was no way she was being serious. Lara allowed Trina to call the shots just to humour her; she had learned long ago it was better to play along first before pulling the plug straight away on Trina’s antics. If Lara was being honest though, the exciting flipside of this situation is that if she was ever going to have an opportunity for her first threesome (and if he was truly willing), it might as well be with William Nylander.

As Trina continues to ramble about their evening and some explicit ideas she has for the hours that lie ahead, Lara scans the scene in the living room. Her heart drops when she realizes William is not alone. First she spots two wine glasses - William had filled up your glass while you had stepped away to the washroom. She looks over to see your Louboutin stiletto boots placed off to the side. Then your jacket. She glances at William and can’t quite determine what emotion has registered on his face.

“I….I’m sorry William - I didn’t know you told Trina not to come by tonight” Lara interjected. William looked toward Lara and verbally confirmed, he definitely told her not tonight.

“I have a guest so it would be better if you both just head home” William said calmly.

Trina’s eyes suddenly widened. “A guest??” Trina's voice is raised as she emphasizes the last word. “Do you have another girl here tonight? Where is she? So…what - is she fucking HIDING? Come on out, bitch…let’s see you - I guarantee it, you got nothing he wants” Trina yelled into the air as she looked around the space.

“Alright - enough…you need to leave or I’ll fucking calling security…” William's jaw was clenched as he warned Trina and Lara.

“No - please William, I’m so sorry…we’re leaving. I'm so embarrassed - she said we could come by.”

Lara grits her teeth when she looks at Trina. “You…we’re going….NOW…”

Lara grabs a hold of Trina’s trench coat and half guides but partially shoves her as she stumbles down the corridor. Lara’s voice was a low growl as she berates her until the elevator arrives.

William watches the two girls vanish around the corner to the elevator, hearing the chime as it arrives on his floor. He steps out of the doorway into the hall making a call down to security to ensure they have exited the building. Sometime soon, William will have to go down and find out how they got in from the get go.

He stood there, exasperated as he rubbed his forehead as he re-entered the apartment. The dread of facing you now is creeping into his mind. William is genuinely worried that the fallout from tonight’s events is that you won’t want anything to do with him going forward.

Indeed, that was one of the many thoughts going through your mind. You knew you were judging him and his lifestyle, and you knew you had no right to do so. Just because you chose to abstain from casual sex or any kind of relationship for all these years, certainly did not mean he had to do the same.

You’ve known all along that he was super popular with women. He didn’t have to do much to have girls reaching out to him in droves. Through various means, you also knew he took advantage of his popularity, with being spotted out and about with a number of gorgeous girls over the years.

However, acknowledging reality in theory and seeing it first hand was completely different.

As you stood there listening to Trina drunkenly spout off details of what she and William had done previously and the plans she had for him tonight, you wanted to wretch. The worst part about it was you knew your soul that you still wanted him, but William had moved on, many times over.

You and William may have started as convenient and casual hook-ups but it never was just about sex with you. It was about all of him. No amount of time or distance or how much you pushed it down could cure you of your feelings for William, up to this point anyway.

But now, all you can feel is torment and defeat from that gut punch from the last 5 minutes. The universe had to be telling you something; the first time you spend time together after four years had passed, and within hours, he had two women show up at his door propositioning him for a threesome.

Here you stood, the week before your 31st birthday, a multi-platinum award winning musician, composer. entrepreneur, philanthropist, advocate, model, actress, and the list went on.

Yet, with all of your achievements under your belt, right now, you were just another girl in a veritable ocean of females all vying for William’s affections. If there was ever a chance that something could have transpired tonight between you and William, the moment has now been instantly derailed by some drunk girl who fucked your ex-hook-up….lover…whatever label fit.

At the end of the day, William could fuck whomever he wanted. He could do whatever he pleased with as many girls as he chooses. It’s his life… It was his decision how he wanted to enjoy his downtime and really, it was none of your business anyway.

Your sometimes passive-aggressive nature, mixed with hurt feelings, made you want to see him twist a little. As you appeared from the hallway however, his expression made you think twice about adding to his misery.

He looked completely crushed, embarrassed, and lost. “Are you ok?” you asked, softly.

“It’s more like, are you…” he said. “Y/N, I am so sorry”.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s really your fault, though…I’m assuming you didn’t know she would sneak into your building, hammered …and well, try and…” you nod your head toward the bedroom.

“Well, no…but I sorta led her on. I’m not even sure why I did…she was kind of…I dunno…like…just there” William struggled to come up with the right word.

“Available…”

” “Yeah…something like that” William confided, feeling a little embarrassed.

He pulls you towards him. “So much for the fantastic night…I guess I ruined that” he said into your ear.

Based on the looseness of your embrace, he knows your feelings have shifted. William feels horrible, desperately wishing he could rewrite the past ten minutes.

You took a step back and you could feel your expression soften. You manage a faint smile and tell him that it was mostly fantastic - even amazing - night but you could have done without the plot twist at the end.

“So….I think I’ll grab an Uber or something and head home, if you’re gonna be ok?” You paused.

No, I’m not ok. I want you to stay here, he thinks to himself.

“Maybe you should stay. Seriously, that girl - just in case she gets it into her head to hang around and watch whoever leaves the building” William says gently.

“Shit…do you think she’d stalk you?”.

“Not sure” William smoothed his hand over his beard. The last thing either of you need is to have your names splashed around the social media universe because of a drunken altercation with a girl in a parking lot, who had been recently fucked…and then slighted, by William Nylander.

You consider the options for another moment, and finally agree that it might be for the best to stay. The couch looks pretty comfortable so you offer to sleep in the living room.

William looks hurt. He wants you in his bed. The urge to wrap himself around you is almost too much for him to handle.

Given the circumstances however, he knows how self-serving it will seem asking you to sleep in the same bed as him. Despite you trying so hard to hide it, he knows you are hurt. He’s beginning to feel a sense of hopelessness from the damage that’s been done tonight.

He grabs some dog treats and tells you to just stay and try and relax while he heads out for a walk with the dogs. He wants to drop by the concierge desk and security just to make sure all is clear around the outside of the building before he ventures out with his boys.

After William and the dogs leave, you survey your surroundings and allow a release of the emotions that have been simmering just under the surface all day. Tears well in your eyes as you stare at the wine glass he filled for you earlier. You lower your head in your hands and weep quietly.

Moments pass and a blinding headache begins to form behind your eyes; the pressure making your eyelids feel heavily weighted. Between the wine and William’s unexpected visitors, the unmitigated happiness you felt only 30 minutes ago has completely evaporated. Like a magnet to steel, a force anchors you to the couch, and you can’t help but to lie your head down and close your eyes to try and get some relief.

Exhaustion eventually takes hold of you, and you fall into a deep sleep within minutes of your head hitting the pillow.

William and the dogs return after spending longer than anticipated on their walk; the one night William really needs Pablo and Banksy to do their business quickly, it took them forever to get it done.

William enters the condo in a hurried pace, only to find you curled up on the couch asleep. His heart expands and breaks all at once as he approaches you, your figure gently rising and falling with each breath.

He considers waking you up to offer his bed anyway, wanting you to have a more comfortable place to sleep but he vetoes his own thoughts, given all that has transpired.

Instead, he grabs a blanket and gently lays it over you.

It feels strange for William to leave you in the living room by yourself. He watches you for another few moments, your face scarcely illuminated by the dim light from the kitchen that he's left on for you. Desire and disappointment grip his stomach as he turns to head to his bedroom.

The next morning , you awake to something cold and wet brushing up against your face. “Pablo….down, buddy” William chuckled.

Opening your eyes, you’re initially disoriented from waking from a deep sleep. You see Pablo sitting in front of you (you swear he’s smiling), waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

A wide grin spans your face.

“Oh…sweet boy…thank you for the kisses” you softly say, encouraging Pablo to hop up onto the couch. Pablo gladly obliges and lies lengthwise on your torso. You murmur words of affection to Pablo’s face as you rub behind his ears and nuzzle him back with your nose.

Banksy comes bouncing across the room wanting to join in on the love fest.

You smile apologetically at William. “Sorry I passed out before you came back; I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open.”

“I’m glad you stayed…looked like you needed the rest. The snoring though - you sounded like a freight train” William says with a smirk.

“I’ll take my snoring over you ripping farts all night” you jokingly retorted.

“Hey…I couldn’t help that…it was better out than in. I seem to remember you laughing until you almost wet yourself…you weren’t exactly complaining”, William laughs.

“You held me under the blankets…fucking Dutch Oven - and that wasn’t laughter, that was gasping”.

William starts laughing that trademark laugh.

You roll your eyes as you smile widely at him. “Yeah, keep laughing there, chuckles. Good times”.

Yeah...they were. So many good times together William thought.

You both take a lingering look at one another, and before he notices you blushing, you excuse yourself and head to the washroom.

Every thought in your mind concerning William has shifted. Last night, prior to Trina's arrival that is, you felt a closeness resurfacing with William. The calmness he always seemed to provide to you, just naturally with his presence, had begun to return.

But now, with this new day, there's just uncertainty and uneasiness that has settled in your gut. You realize now that you don't know him like you used to. Maybe it was a stretch to think that you ever did. After all, in the three years you were involved, you only managed to string together a month here, or two months there - and then you would have to leave. Only experiencing the best side of each other; it seemed true that no two people could be more entranced with one another than you and William when you were together. But everything has changed since then and it’s doubtful that you want the same things from life.

Returning to the living area, William’s about ready to head out with the dogs. Both Pablo and Banksy run over to you, falling over each other for your attention as if you’ve been gone the whole day instead of just 5 minutes.

“I’m not sure if they love me as much as they seem to love you…I feel like a distant second to them now”.

“Awh - boys, you better go see your Dad…he’s feeling a little jealous” you say as you kiss and nuzzle the tops of their heads.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me for their walk but I think it’s pouring out there now. I might just take them to the rink and let them run around there, I guess.”

“I would have but one - it’ll kill me to walk in those things” you nod your head towards the stilettos. “And, two - I better head out…there’s a ton of things I have to get done before I leave. Otherwise, I would have loved to.”

You finished getting ready and within minutes, the 4 of you were descending in the elevator towards the main lobby. William offers to walk you out to the parking lot but you decline. Figuring his car is in the underground lot, there was no need for him to get him and the dogs soaked as the heavy December rain ensued.

“It was good to see you…memorable in the most legendary Nylander way” you say smiling.

Before he could respond, you crouch down to acknowledge the dogs, allowing them to put their front paws on your knees for more wet nose boops and kisses.

As you stood up, you could see his expression had changed. He didn’t look like his normal light hearted self. He looked weary. He looked like he had a million things to say but wasn’t able to utter a single word. Instead, he reached out and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a firm embrace. You felt his breath on your neck as he lowered his head and rested it against yours.

You pull back slightly and give him a warm smile. “I know you’re travelling too pretty soon - wishing you great games and safe travels, ok?”

“Yeah, you too. Shit - we didn’t get to talk about Christmas - the family coming - or anything like that though…”

“I’m in contact with your parents about everything - someone is bound to fill you in but seriously, there’s nothing for you to worry about. As long as you show up sometime after you fly home from Columbus, you’re golden” you say with a grin.

This time, the silence between you weighed heavily in the air.

“Ok…you better get going there, superstar. Traffic’s going to be shit…I don’t want to hear Sid Seixeiro bitching about you being late on Breakfast Television again.”

William laughed out loud. “Yeah - got a lot of flak for that one…I didn’t know you knew about that”, William says as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck

“Well, it was pretty much splashed around everywhere at the time. I couldn’t avoid it”, you smirk.

You turn to look out at the steady stream of rain and sigh; half of you wants to go with him and the other half wants to get the hell out of there, downpour be damned.

“Ok then…I’m off. See you later, boys”, you grin at William and the dogs, turning to head across the lobby and out into the miserable and wet December morning.

William heads back into the elevator, hands jammed in his pockets, feeling uneasy about how everything with you was left up in the air.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #willy styles #nylander #nhl fic #ficrec #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nylander x reader

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my-plastic-life · 11 months

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I did a thing... actually, I did several things. :D My ani-ME (anime doll version) needed manga in her house, so of course I had to make mini Inuyasha manga! I've done this before, but this time it's different... I didn't do miniature versions of the Viz BIG volumes. Nope, I did all 56 original Japanese volumes. Because ani-ME is in Japan, so she must have the original volumes!!! :D What a task this was - because the volumes are so old, it's hard to find high resolution pictures of them online. And even if you do, many times it's just the front, not the back and definitely not the spine. I found some, but then the front and back cover colors were completely different, some had text and graphics cut off from what was most likely a scanned image, the colors were inconsistent between various websites, some colors were clashing badly due to low quality resolution, etc.

So I literally made a template in Photoshop of the real size of the original manga (obtained via Amazon) and rebuilt EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. from scratch. I was able to find a site with all the original cover photos, and then I found the most high resolution cover I could find to duplicate the pattern that's on all books (colors vary), recreated the logo for each book (the character symbols and the gradients are all different for each volume), redrew the SS Comics logo that's on all books, and I even replicated each individual barcode. Because I'm nothing if not a consistent perfectionist. :D

For the backs, I used the images I found and just copied and pasted the characters and Japanese text, and for the teeny tiny characters I used the brush tool to trace over them. Even though I knew you probably wouldn't be able to see them in such a small scale, no way was I leaving them out! Consistency, darn it! :D

For the spines, I found complete sets on eBay and used a photo of the spines from those auctions as a template. I redid everything on the spine except the character head at the top of each, which is copied and pasted from the eBay files. They're definitely pretty low resolution, but hopefully it's not noticeable at such a small scale.

And the volume numbers? Try as I might, I could NOT find a font that matched them. So I got the most high resolution volumes I could find and made number templates... so each time I needed one of the volume numbers, I'd just use a color overlay on it and plop it where it needed to go on the front and spine.

Then the fun part - resizing them all to 1/6 scale. They're a little over an inch tall right now. And because they're not very thick in the spine, wrapping the covers around foam board to mimic pages wasn't working. So I had to make pages... for 56 volumes LOL. I just took my cover template, sized it down, and made it a blank white with a black stroke so I could see where to cut. I could fit 11 mini pages in one row across a regular sized sheet of printer paper (I used cardstock for extra thickness and stability), and I could fit like six rows on a sheet. I was able to fit 11 pages in one volume to allow the spine room, so 56 volumes x 11 mini pages each = 616 total pages I wound up cutting, then stacking and gluing together. But, of course, that wasn't a perfect fit, as the pages, despite being sanded down to be completely straight and smooth, poked out of the covers. So I had to wrap the covers around the pages, mark where they hit, and use an X-acto knife to trim the pages down before gluing them inside the covers.

But finally, I was done! It was time-consuming, but I love how these little books turned out. They don't open, but that's totally okay. That would be way too much work, and every time I make a book that opens, it never closes again. I did, however, manage to find some pages from the original first volume (in Japanese), so I printed a second volume 1 cover and glued those pages inside. So now ani-ME has an open book she can read too!

So there you have it! My mini, 1/6 scale Japanese volumes of Inuyasha - all 56 of them! I made that bookshelf just for them, but I intentionally left more room in case I want to add more manga later. But of course we had to have Inuyasha manga on the shelf - it's the most important! :D And the poster on the wall is totally a tag from one of my shirts LOL.

Showing off her new bookshelf stocked full of all 56 volumes of the Inuyasha manga:

Relaxing in bed, reading from the beginning:

Why yes, she is reading the Inuyasha manga on an Inuyasha pillow :D

All 56 volumes on the bookshelf:

What do you do with an Inuyasha shirt tag? Make an instant doll poster, of course!

Front covers:

Back covers:

Volume 1 pages (glued in order, right to left):

Size reference (shown with American penny):

#my plastic life #doll photography #one sixth scale #azone international #azone pure neemo #azonejp #Kiku Ningyo #Inuyasha #manga #anime #anime doll #tenderwolf #myfroggystufffanpics

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 8 months

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Feverish Flirtations

Summary: You've been the lead medic for General Billaba's battalion for awhile now and you've had a crush on Captain Grey for almost as long. What happens when a fever and a trip to the med bay loosens the Captain's tongue? Pairing: Captain Grey x Reader Rating: Gen (but minors DNI) Word Count: 4,219 A.N: This is for the wonderful, beautiful, and lovely @imarvelatthestars ! While writing this I think I may have become a Grey fan lol. Also, I know there's some inconsistencies with him from the comics, like having the rank of Commander in the comics but Captain in TBB. I went ahead and went with Captain since TBB is more recent, but I included the characters Styles and Stance from the comics since they're the only other named clones from their battalion. Anyway, I really hope you like my interpretation of Grey's character and that you enjoy this little fics!

Warnings: Mentions of medical procedures and illness.

“I’m telling you I’m fine, Doc, you just said the bleeding is internal- that’s where the blood’s supposed to be!”

Your eyes flickered up from your datapad to meet the clone’s attempt at a charming grin. A part of you wanted to laugh, mostly at the expectant look he was giving you, and if you weren’t so tired you probably would have. Right now, though, all you could do was sign.

“Styles, you already told me that joke. You know, the last time you landed yourself in here with a traumatic injury.”

His face fell just a little, “Oh- I did?”

“Guess you should scan to see if his brain’s still there too, Doc,” called Stance from the next bed.

That one did manage to get a small smile out of you, and you saw Styles get some of his pep back at the sight. Then, in a light tone, you said, “Oh, I don’t think it’s that, I think his time with me is just that forgettable.”

Styles sat up as best he could in the med bed, “Come on now, mesh’la, you know you’re as unforgettable as they come.” He winked at you, and you also might have felt a little flustered at his term of endearment, again, if you weren’t so tired.

“I’m sure,” your tone was still light, and you gave him a small smile as you finished making the notes in his chart. Despite the nature of his injuries, he would be just fine. Thank the maker.

“Oooh, barely a polite brush off,” Stance crooned, “Better luck next time, brother. Now, Doc, when can this poor injured trooper get your undivided, tender care?”

“When you have a real injury,” Styles rolled his eyes, though even you could tell there was no real malice there, just brothers in arms giving each other a hard time.

“I do have one!” he lifted the arm the field medic had already temp-treated with a bacta wrap, “Look, I have a boo boo on my bicep. Kiss it better, Doc?”

You felt your eyebrows quirk up, but before you could think of a comeback a stern voice called out behind you.

“Stance, Styles!”

Both men were snapping to attention- or in Styles’ case, as best he could laying down. You turned to see none other than Captain Grey walking into the med bay with the medic who would be relieving you for the next shift. Grey’s eyes were firm as he looked between the two men, a look that, while not uncommon for the Captain, was rarely present when you were in the room.

“Make sure I never hear you speaking so disrespectfully to our staff again. Am I understood?”

A minor rush of panic flowed through you as both men said a loud “Sir, yes sir.”

You held up your hand, instantly catching the officer’s attention. “Oh, please, Captain, there’s no need for all that, they weren’t being disrespectful.”

There, you saw it, the way his deep brown eyes softened when they were on you for more than a second. The way the lines at the corner of his mouth smoothed, his eyebrows lifting up a fraction, and his head tilting just a bit as if to lean closer to your presence. Maybe you imagined it every time, a hopeful fantasy, but he most definitely did ease up a little at your words.

He couldn’t backpedal on the order, though, which you respected, and settled for him asking how the boys were doing. You gave him and the other medic your reports, which were thankfully standard and very little cause for concern. It was a good day- or, as good as a day could be during a war.

Now that you were officially relieved, you wished the troopers a good night, reminding Styles to rest up, lest he have to spend more than a night cooped up here. You had just started to turn to the door when…

“Let me walk you back to your quarters.”

Even your exhausted state couldn’t stop you from feeling the nervous excitement starting in your chest, given that it was Grey who offered. Outwardly, all you gave was a polite, thankful nod, before saying goodnight to the others and heading for the door.

There was a brief, comfortable silence for the first few moments you two walked together down the corridor, before he cleared his throat.

“I’m…sorry about them, sometimes they forget that comments like that can make civilians uncomfortable.”

You turned a smile on him and, again because it was him, it was easy to make it warm. “Don’t worry, Grey, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

His mouth twisted a little as he looked at you from the corner of his eye, “You just seemed…a little stressed when I came in, I assumed it was because of their flirting.”

“Oh! Oh no, it wasn’t that,” you laughed lightly, hoping to put his mind at ease, “I’m just tired is all. You know I spend all my time here on the ship worrying about you boys, it was a long day of that when we lost contact with your recon team.”

Finally, it was his turn to grin and your heart did its typical pitter patter whenever he smiled at you. Unfortunately, the look vanished as suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and held back a grunt of some kind. Then he was turning his head away from you, fist shooting up to cover his mouth as he let out a string of deep coughs.

“Grey, are you alright?” you stepped a little closer to him as he tried to hold back another cough, then cleared his throat.

He nodded his head, trying for that small, lopsided smile again, “ ‘m fine, just a scratchy throat.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Should I be sending you back to the med bay?”

As if to usher you along, he started walking again, pointedly in the direction of the lifts. “No no, I’m fine. Promise. I think the plant-life around the old ‘sep base just got to me a little bit.”

Even though you had resumed walking beside him, you still kept your gaze concerned and a little suspicious. “If it gets any worse, you call me, or go to the medic on duty, understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir” he said as if you were his CO, though his tone was lighter this time and he was still smiling.

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, then this time he cleared his throat in a way that might have had nothing to do with his cough. “So, what you said earlier…you really don’t mind the flirting?”

You let out a little huff of laughter, “Not really, it never goes too far after all. You and your men have always treated me with respect and I know they’d listen if I ever told them it wasn’t appropriate.”

Something in him seemed relieved as he nodded. “Good. I didn’t like the thought that they were crossing a line with you, I’m glad they weren’t. And I’ll…keep that in mind.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he was going to keep in mind, but, given how he suddenly looked like he was turning something over in his head, you decided not to ask.

Another comfortable silence fell over you both for a while, and it wasn’t until you were out of the lift and on the level for your quarters when he struck up some small talk. It wasn’t anything noteworthy, besides the fact that talking to Grey about anything was something you would always welcome.

Though, he did seem a little different in his way of talking, halting at the end of sentences like he was holding back a question, or taking a breath to prepare for another comment, before closing his mouth silently. It was almost as if he was trying to find an opening to say something specific.

Or, maybe he was just trying to hide his cough from you, because a few steps before reaching your door, he burst into another short fit.

“Grey,” your tone was soft, but firm, “Please go have that checked out, we don’t want our captain getting sick.”

“It’s not bad,” he insisted again, “We have some antihistamines in our emergency med kits, I’ll take one of those and be fine.”

“Grey-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Doc,” he insisted, not unkindly and with a soft expression that lightened the depth of the scar across his face. You knew that some of the boys liked your fussing, finding it endearing, and you wondered if Grey felt the same.

But it didn’t matter if he liked it or not, you would worry and fuss either way. “Yes, I do have to worry, Grey, it’s my job.”

“I promise if it gets worse, I’ll go straight to the med bay and raise you on the comms to let you say I told you so, how about that?”

Well, that was probably the best you were going to get out of him. “Alright, deal.”

Again, Grey opened his mouth, as though some sentiment or question was on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were even lit up a little, like an idea was sparking something behind them.

Alas, whatever it was, he hadn’t found time to broach the topic before you were at the door to your bunk and he closed his mouth yet again. Still, he shifted for a moment, tucking his helmet under his arm a little more securely as he looked to your door. He hadn’t said goodnight yet, either.

“Grey?”

His eyes finally met yours again and looked a little surprised, “Yeah?”

“Is there… something specific you wanted to talk about?”

For a moment, all he did was stare back at you, again, seeming to think something over in his mind. Finally, though, he closed his eyes and let out a small breath, then looked at you again with a polite smile.

“Maybe another time. For now, you need your rest, can’t have our favorite medic this tired.”

You nodded, maybe feeling a little disappointed, but respected whatever decision it was he had come to. “Sir, yes sir,” you said with a little salute. “Goodnight, Grey.”

“Goodnight, Doc.”

The next morning, you had just gotten your hands on your first cup of caf in the mess hall when your commlink beeped. The code was Styles’ and your brow furrowed in confusion as you answered.

“Um, hey, Doc, the Captain told me to call you and say ‘you told him so’?”

Well, kriff.

You were down in the med bay in record time, even leaving your drink behind, a testament to just how much this particular man meant to you. There was the on-duty medic and Styles, flanking a very dizzy looking Grey who was dressed in nothing but his blacks. Though he was sitting upright on the bed, he looked half ready to tip over with the way he was swaying.

“He insisted that you be the one to look him over,” said the other medic, stepping aside as you approached.

“ ‘Course I did,” Grey mumbled, eyes barely staying open, “I promised Doc could say told you so…so-” he waved his hand at you, as if presenting a valid point with the gesture.

“As you can tell, he’s a bit delirious,” your colleague huffed.

Grey opened his mouth to say something to the other medic, but when your hands reached up to press against his forehead, he let out a long breath instead. “Ooh, your hands are niiice.”

It was no wonder he thought so, he was burning up badly, the fever coating his face in a sheen of sweat. He burst into a horrendous fit of coughs then, worse than last night and sounding full of phlegm.

“I was on my way back to my bunk when I found him slumped against the walls of the corridor near his quarters,” Styles informed as you took Grey’s pulse the moment the coughing died down, “said he was trying to get to the med bay so he wouldn’t make you mad.” Then he actually huffed out a chuckle. “Or at least, that’s what I gathered from his babbling.”

“Alright, Captain,” you started, gently guiding him, “lay back, let’s run some tests and find out what’s going on.”

“-don’t have to call me Captain, good-lookin’,” Grey mumbled with an attempt at a smile while he did as you asked.

Figuring that keeping him talking was good, you quirked an eyebrow as you grabbed the scanner, “Good-looking, huh? And here you were scolding Styles for flirting just last night- No no, lay on your back, Grey, keep still,” you insisted when he tried to roll over on his side towards you.

The action caused another bout of choked hacking to ensue but Grey obeyed, staying flat on his back, even as he kept slurring nonsense when he could speak again. “Want to flirt… Wanted last night… chickened out. You’re too sweet when you fuss over me.”

You tried to ignore the heat creeping across your face, this was no time to feel flattered or embarrassed by his words, ones that you barely caught as you read the data scrolling across the screen of your scanner. Styles was silent as you worked and Grey rambled on, a sign of just how worried he was about his brother. Hopefully your tests would bear good news, and Styles could tease his Captain’s hypocrisy in no time.

“Haven’t said told you so yet.” Grey said it just barely above a hum, eyes fluttering shut as more sweat beaded on his forehead.

“I’ll say it later, for now you just-”

You were interrupted by a third round of retching and your heart ached at the little groan of pain that rolled out of his mouth at the end of it. Thankfully, your scans were finally done and a little bit of relief filled you.

“Alright, Grey, looks like you have a mild pulmonary infection, nothing too serious,” you smiled down at him then, “though it would have been better if you came here last night, you know, like I told you so.”

The smile he gave back was worn and tired, but no less genuine, “There it is, ’ll listen next time, mesh’la.” More coughs ended his bleary promise, but they were shallow and short this time.

You turned to the other medic, who was already going to the cabinet with the antibiotics in it, and told him exactly what you needed and in what doses. At the moment, you were mostly worried about breaking his fever, while it wasn’t life threateningly high, it was still on the dangerous side.

Then you turned to Styles, “Can you get a patient smock out of the wardrobe? I think he’ll be more comfortable in it than these sweaty blacks.”

Grey hummed loudly, drawing your attention back to him, “Doc, if ya wanted to get m’ clothes off, just had-” another cough, “-ask.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little, “Oh, Captain, you’re going to be very upset with your babbling once your fever’s broken.”

He shook his head just as his brother came back with the red two piece outfit. “I won't. Told you, wanted to say all this last night,” his mumbling was a little more clear this time, as if trying to make a point and you weren’t sure how to respond.

Thankfully, the younger medic came back with the needed fluids for the IV and said he would help Grey into the smock while you readied the medication. As the privacy curtain was pulled closed, you could have sworn you heard Styles whisper something about Gray wanting you to undress him instead, but you chose to ignore that as well.

They worked quickly, and the Captain’s treatment was ready by the time the curtain was pulled back. Grey was sitting up again and he stayed like that while you administered the IV. He took it like a champ, though he still looked quite dizzy the whole time he was sitting up.

“Alright, Grey, these fluids will help bring your fever down, and the antibiotics will start clearing up your lungs, I even put in a little something for the pain. We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

“Hmm,” he cocked his head, “I feel better already,” he hummed as he watched you work, big brown eyes still looking tired. Then, he echoed a sentiment from earlier, “You’re too sweet when you fuss.”

Again you had to ignore the fact that the flirting, coming from him, made your face heat up. Grey kept his tired eyes on you, even as you motioned for him to lay down again.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Styles asked in a quiet tone.

You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’ll take some time to clear up the infection, but he should be just fine, nothing our resources can’t handle. Though, I think you should send his helmet down to equipment maintenance, make sure the filters are working right.”

“On it!” He cast a look at his captain, “If you keep flirting with our favorite medic here, make sure you go all out, Cap,” he ended the statement with a wink before heading out of the room.

That made you laugh a little, feeling much more at ease now that your worry had calmed down. A quick look at the time told you that your shift had officially started, so you relieved your colleague, leaving you and Grey as the only ones left in the med center. You had thought that maybe he would fall asleep, but you still felt his eyes on you as you kept working.

Then, while you were typing up his medical chart, he whispered, “You wanna hear a secret, Doc?”

“What’s that, Grey?”

“If I wasn’t sick, I’d ask if it’s okay to kiss you.”

That made your eyes go wide and your fingers halted their tying on the datapad. You weren’t sure if it was his fever, the pain medicine, or a mixture of both making him even bolder than before, but this time, his comment was hard- or rather, impossible, to ignore. When you looked down at him over the pad, his eyes were fluttering again, the exhaustion of his fever and relief of the medicine kicking in making it harder to stay awake.

“Wanted…” he hummed, coughed once, then tried to look up at you only to close his eyes again. “...Have to get better at…flirting first…Then I’ll ask…”

Despite how easy it would be to pretend you didn’t hear or understand him, you found yourself answering him.

“Ask me when you’re healed up, Grey.”

You said it quietly, but there was an undeniable lift to the corner of his mouth before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Overall, you deeply disliked the way the troops were treated by the overseers of the GAR, but, one thing that you would give credit for, was that they actually provided their medical division with good supplies. Thanks to that, Grey was cleared of his illness quickly and didn't have any signs of lasting symptoms.

You wish you had been the one to give him his final check up and clear him for duty, but you weren’t. Instead you were stuck in a meeting that all head medics employed by the GAR had to sign into via holocomms.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to seek you out.

Grey caught you late in the evening, a few hours after your meeting, standing in the hallway conversing with some of your newest staff. Respectful as always, he waited patiently for you to finish your talk, though your skin felt warm knowing his eyes were trained on you the whole time. Had he come to see you because of what you said about that kiss he seemed to want? No, no, he was half asleep, surely he was just there because he knew you wanted to see him all healed up.

Once the nurses finished with their last question and took their leave, you turned to the captain with a warm look. He looked as healthy as ever, skin his usual tanned tone, eyes bright, mind seeming alert and present.

“I see you’re back on your feet.”

“Thanks to you,” he said lightly as he took a few steps closer to you. He must have noted the late hour, because he asked, “Are you heading back to your quarters?” and when you nodded he seemed to straighten just a little, as if reading himself. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Alright,” you found your own tone a little teasing as you two started walking, “but if you start coughing again, you better listen to me when I tell you to go get it checked this time.”

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, cyare, I’ll make sure to listen to you next time.”

Again, he seemed to make your heart skip a beat with nothing but a simple endearment. At least you were able to compose yourself. “Good, I’m glad someone’s learning to listen to me around here.” Your tone had no bite to it, and you could tell Grey knew it with the way he flashed you a smirk.

Unlike the last time he had walked you to your door, you were much closer to your quarters this time and any conversation you two would have had couldn’t last long. You asked how he was feeling like any good friend would, and he told you he was fine, that you didn’t have to worry. He asked what your plans were when the ship landed on Coruscant and you were only half joking when you said “sleep”.

Then, just like the other night, when you two reached your door, he seemed to hesitate, something weighing on his mind. Except this time, he actually spoke up.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He looked over at you from the corners of his eyes and when you only looked back at him patiently, he went on. “I know I was feverish that first day in the med bay but…” he rolled his shoulders, “I heard what you said after I made that comment about wanting to kiss you.”

Your heart was suddenly acting as if it was competing in the galactic gymnastic championship, somersaulting in your chest and leaving a nervous heat to creep across your skin.

This time it was you who cleared your throat, “O-oh, you did?”

Finally, he turned his body to face you fully, his face set in determination. “Yeah, I did. And you should know that I might have rambled those things because I was sick, but I still meant every word of it.”

That caused your breath to hitch and you found yourself taking a step closer to him. “You did?”

At the soft, hopeful sound of your voice, his determined expression softened and now he was giving that cute, lopsided smile again. “I did. I really, really like you, have since the day you first stepped on board.” He let out a little laugh then, “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve wanted to tell you that, or how many times I’ve wanted to ask to kiss you, but I’m not the best at flirting.”

“Oh I don’t know, you did alright the other day.”

That earned another small chuckle. You realized then that you were holding your breath, waiting for him to make good on what you said that day when you thought he was falling asleep.

It must have clicked for him too.

Grey’s eyes somehow softened more as he took another step closer and reached out his hand. Your breath hitched when his fingers gently brushed your cheek, then you held your breath altogether when his thumb ran over your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

The air held in your chest pushed out with a breathy, “Yes!”

And you saw his eye shining for only a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was light at first, a nearly feather-light touch that nevertheless took your breath away again. Then, he was tilting his head and slipping the hand at your cheek to cup the back of your neck instead. It was all too gentle, even when he started moving his lips against yours in a way that told you just how much he had been craving this moment.

Who knew how long the kiss went on, all that mattered was that your head was spinning by the time you two finally parted.

“Wow.” Both of you said it at the same time, which made you both laugh together too.

“If it leads to moments like this, maybe I should land myself in the med bay more often,” he winked.

You groaned at the thought, “Oh, please don’t, my heart couldn’t take it!”

Grey was chuckling again and this time, he slipped his hand to your waist and pulled you even closer to him. When he spoke again, his tone was deep, yet playfully intimate. “Then I guess I’ll have to find other ways to make your heart race.”

And you knew he would make good on that promise too.

#rare clone fic exchange #rare clone fic submission #tcw grey #captain grey #tcw captain grey #tbb grey #tbb captain grey #tbb grey x reader #captain grey x reader #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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itsawhumpsideblog · 3 months

Text

The Safehouse, pt. 12

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

The most consistent aspect of life in a Safehouse is its inconsistency. Although the Network will do its best to provide advance notice of changes to the Safehouse, it's staff, or it's rescuee occupants, it is never guaranteed that we can plan ahead for all eventualities. Success as a Safehouse staff member relies in large part on the ability to improvise and adapt.

Francis stayed confined to bed for the next few days, sleeping often and grateful for the calm and quiet. Behind the door of their room, when both of them felt safe from scrutiny and able to relax, he and Mikey were fast becoming friends. Tim and Angie were undeniably kind, so far, but the former Pets had more in common with each other.

Even though Mikey could not speak, Francis had little trouble reading his expressions, the shared language of Pets, and communication between them felt easy and natural. Francis would talk and Mikey would respond with a look or a gesture that was as good as its own sentence, as far as Francis was concerned. They tended to converse about the present almost exclusively; the parts of the past they could remember were painful to think about and the future had no meaningful existence for either of them.

The times that brought them closest together invariably occurred in the deepest hours of the night, when they were frightened or unwell and did not have the distractions of daylight available to them. Mikey learned that there was a time at night when Francis' fever soared, leaving him delirious with heat and pain. When this happened, Mikey would get out of bed and retrieve a wet washcloth and clumsily, but very gently, bathe Francis' face and neck until the worst of the heat receded and he was more himself.

Francis understood that Mikey hid more pain than he showed. Sometimes, he was woken when a nightmare caused him to thrash around, hurting his arms in the process. Still half asleep, Mikey would scramble into the corner of the room, behind his pillow, sobbing and groaning and rocking in physical and mental anguish. Francis would climb out of bed, hobble over to where Mikey crouched, and cradle his head, smoothing his hair while he worked through the worst of his suffering.

When morning came and things were better, they would simply smile at each other, unashamed to need or provide comfort. Gradually, Francis began to shyly translate for Mikey to Angie and Tim, and was relieved to find that they trusted his interpretations and were grateful to him.

Later that week, Francis was finally ready to be carried downstairs again. He blushed a little as Tim scooped him up, but put his arm obligingly around Tim's neck for stability and very soon found himself on the sofa. He had to remind himself that this was allowed and, in fact, encouraged. It would make things easier for Master- no, for Sir and Ma'am.

Angie propped Francis' feet on a pillow and Tim placed the bags of frozen peas on them. Then they covered him with a warm blanket- his fever was a little better, but it came and went. Francis looked around the room with interest, awake enough this time to take in what he was seeing. Mikey, kneeling on his cushion next to the sofa, gave Francis a welcoming smile and a reassuring nod.

"How about we put something on TV?" Tim suggested. "It might be entertaining- I mean, I hope so- and you can always fall asleep if you need to. Or want to."

"Yes, sir," Francis agreed and Mikey gave a quick nod. Both of them enjoyed watching television, they agreed, although they would never have expressed something so much like a preference to Angie and Tim. It was a novelty and the stories were fascinating and escapist and they could both happily watch for hours.

The morning passed largely in companionable quiet, which was broken very suddenly by a loud knock on the door.

All four of them froze and the sound came again. Somehow, it didn't sound friendly, not a neighbor coming to borrow sugar. Angie and Tim exchanged a wide-eyed look and Francis and Mikey stared at them in simple faith that they would know what to do.

"I think we should answer it," Tim said, after what felt like a very long moment. "Mikey and Francis, obviously you should stay here." The door was pounded again and Tim and Angie got to their feet and hurried into the hallway.

When they cautiously opened the door, they found the WRU delivery van parked out front of their house and a man standing on the stoop with a familiar-looking crate on a hand cart.

"Sorry we're late with the last of your deliveries," he said and he had such a pleasant customer-service tone to his voice that Tim had to stop himself from doing a double-take. "My records say the initial two were delivered at least a week ago so again, my apologies for keeping you waiting."

"Come... in," Angie managed to say and the man maneuvered the hand cart into their front hall. He opened it and, when there was no movement, he tipped it on end.

"Come on, there you go," he said encouragingly, as if he was assisting a nervous kitten and not dumping a young man on the floor.

The Pet rolled out and lay where he fell, sprawled slightly. His face creased in a grimace and his head lolled to the side. He was biting his lip and his eyelids fluttered as if he was only semi-conscious. Tim suddenly found himself wishing the delivery man would hurry up and leave and it was all he could do to stop himself from snapping the crate shut and shoving the man back onto the porch.

"Well," the delivery man said, nodding affably at them, "that should take care of everything. You folks have a nice afternoon!"

"You too!" Angie was holding her cover together better than Tim and actually waved as she shut the door.

Now it was safe to turn their attention to the young man lying in the hallway. He was long and lanky, almost painfully so, as Box Boys tended to be; his hair was very dark and mussed and his skin was a worrying, waxy shade of white and covered in bruises.

"He's shocky," Tim said, his nursing school days taking over. "Let me get a quick look at him. Um... Francis has the longer couch already, so put the foot rest up on the other one and we can probably get him comfortable there. Grab some blankets, too."

Angie hurried into the next room while Tim bent over the new arrival. "Hey," he said, very gently, "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you. I'm just going to look you over real quick and then we'll get you off the floor, okay?" Predictably, there was no reply.

Tim kept going, gently putting a hand on the boy's head to check for blood, checking his pupils, carefully pressing down on his ribs. At this, the boy hissed and Tim quickly apologized, made a mental note that his abdomen was tender, and moved on. It was when he pressed down on the boy's thigh, right above the knee, that he finally got a strong reaction.

"Fuck!" the boy screamed, a sound so loud and unexpected that it seemed to echo through the house. Tim stopped in pure surprise and Angie hurried back into the hallway, mouth open.

"What- what did you do?" she asked Tim.

"I think his leg's broken," Tim explained, looking guilty. "I'm almost done..." Somewhat reluctantly, he continued until, when he touched a spot above the ankle, the boy screamed again.

"Fu-uck!" His voice shattered and broke.

"I've never heard a Boy Boy swear before." Angie sounded worried and curious all at the same time. Tim just nodded and finished his examination with the other leg, which seemed to be uninjured although, he reflected, it was probably bruised like all the other skin they could see.

Now Tim sat back and smoothed the boy's wild hair away from his face. "Can you tell us what you're called?" he asked, trying to give the boy a moment to calm down before being moved.

"My name is Nathan," he panted. "And my fucking leg is broken. I could have told you that." Then he looked around and his eyes widened, as if he suddenly remembered where he was. "I'm so sorry. I mean, this Pet is so sorry, Master, Mistress."

Tim and Angie looked at one another and decided to proceed with caution. "Are you... no offense," Angie said. "But are you actually a Pet?"

"Yes, Mistress." He seemed to be sticking to the script now.

"Only, I've never heard a Box Boy swear before. We have two other... um... former Pets staying with us now and neither of them ever does."

This time it was the rescuee's turn to look confused. Angie noticed that he looked her straight in the eye, which Francis and Mikey never did. "Did you say former?" They never addressed her directly like that, either, or asked her questions. Angie decided to take a risk.

"Yes. This is a Safehouse. We're with the Box Boy Liberation Network."

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god, it's real. It's real." The boy began to cry so hard that Tim was seriously worried about him. He buried his face in one hand, the other gripping his ribs as if trying to hold himself together. Tears rolled down his face and he was gasping for air. "It's real. It's fucking real," he kept repeating.

"Hey, hey, Nathan," he soothed the rescuee. "Just try to breathe. It's okay, we're going to take care of you." The boy nodded and wiped his hands over his eyes.

"I'm Tim and this is Angie. We're the Safehouse staff, we're with the Network. Can we get you off the floor?"

"I need to see a doctor," Nathan said. His voice was beginning to steady, but still shook. "My leg's really bad."

"I can tell. Getting medical care for Pets- even rescued ones- can be tricky but we'll make some phone calls and get something worked out, okay?"

"Okay."

"Great. Now- let's get you off the floor. You'll feel better on the couch for sure."

Nathan nodded and they helped him up and into the family room, Tim with his arm around Nathan's waist and Angie supporting the broken leg. They pulled his sweatpants down, leaving him in boxers, before propping the swollen, discolored leg on a cushion and putting ice packs as close to the breaks as Nathan could stand.

"I'm going to start making calls," Angie said, and went into the kitchen.

Once Nathan was tucked under a blanket and had a sip of water, he finally sighed and leaned back and only then did he seem to realize that there were two other people in the room.

"You're not the only former Pet with us at the moment," Tim reminded him- he might have been too overwhelmed when it was first mentioned to retain the information well. "This is Francis and this is Mikey."

Nathan exchanged a friendly nod with Francis, but when he saw Mikey, his jaw dropped.

"Buddy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's- is it really you? You survived?"

Mikey, too, was staring open-mouthed. Very slowly, he nodded.

"Oh, my god." Nathan choked up again. "I can't believe it. I thought you were- you know, really gone. I'm so, so glad you're here."

Very slowly, Mikey got up from his pillow and came over. His movements were stiff and uncertain as always and Nathan said, very softly, "What the fuck did they do to you?" Mikey just shook his head and reached his right hand out to pat Nathan's shoulder. Nathan put his hand on Mikey's arm, very softly, watching him for signs of the slightest discomfort.

Then, with Mikey hovering quietly by his side, Nathan rounded on Tim, his voice sounding almost accusatory. "What's wrong with him? Why does it look like he hasn't seen a doctor? He was really messed up, I know, I saw it."

Tim made a mental note to ask what that meant. "We're working on getting him medical care, but-"

"Bullshit, are you really?"

"Really," Tim repeated. "We are. But we can't take him to a Pet doctor- they don't provide halfway decent medical care, as you maybe know." Nathan nodded, a little grudgingly. "And we can't just walk him into the ER, because they'll know he's a Box Boy. Unfortunately- or fortunately, depending on your perspective- the three of you exist in a legal gray area. The Network generates paperwork to get you released to Safehouse staff- obviously the WRU thinks they're new owners- but we don't have ownership papers, because we don't own you. So if we take someone who is obviously a Box Boy into a hospital and we can't prove ownership, they'll refuse treatment or worse, call the police to report a theft and take Mikey away. In either case, they'll know us in the future and we won't be able to do rescue work. Worst case, Mikey winds up back in the system." To Mikey, Tim added pointedly, "And we aren't going to let that happen."

"I guess I follow that," Nathan admitted. "But then what are you gonna do? You can't just leave him like that, right?"

"Of course not!" Tim was slightly offended and had to remind himself to be patient. "So what we have to do is, we contact the Network and they find us a medical provider who can do whatever is needed without generating records. But the catch there is that the Network has to know someone with the right specialty and then they have to have an opening in their schedule so nobody gets suspicious. So for Mikey, we're waiting on an orthopedic surgeon and a care team. Last time we checked, they had identified a provider but she didn't have any free slots that wouldn't raise red flags with her bosses. Basically we've been told to be ready to go at any moment, and as soon as we get that call, we'll have Mikey in a hospital. Make sense? We really are doing our best for him, I promise."

"Yeah, I get it now. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. This is a stressful day. But if it helps, I think you'll be easier, because you can pass for- well, for not a Box Boy."

"I think I'll do okay," he agreed and grinned wryly. "I'll explain sometime- I know you have to be curious."

"Insanely!"

Nathan didn't say any more about it, but turned his attention back to Mikey. "Hey, buddy," he said again. "I mean- Mikey. That's a nice name." Mikey glowed with pleasure. "Did they give it to you?"

Mikey nodded and Tim said, "It's my brother's name, too."

"Nice, nice." Nathan shook his head. "Man, I- I just can't believe you're here. I'm so, so glad to see you, man. So glad. You have no idea. Well- I bet you do." Mikey nodded in agreement and patted Nathan's shoulder to calm him.

Nathan seemed as if he was about to say something else when Angie came back in.

"All sorted out," she said, looking satisfied. "Nathan, we got permission to take you to the county hospital. We can't call an ambulance, because that would tip off our location if anything goes wrong- which it probably won't. But since you won't set off any alarm bells, we'll just go to the ER like normal people. The story is you were doing yard work and fell out of a tree, okay?"

"Okay."

"And there's a Network doctor on call who's going to keep her eye open for your admissions paperwork. Easier for her to steal time and cast supplies in a busy ER and we should be out of there before anybody has time to wonder why you're not being billed. I heard you and Tim talking- I was on hold for a while. But that's the holdup for you, Mikey. It's more noticeable if they use an operating room for a couple hours and then recovery space, but nothing gets written down. But don't worry," she added. "We'll get there."

Francis and Nathan noticed the way Mikey's expression froze; he was nervous about the idea. He would try not to allow Tim or Angie to know it, however, and for the time being, the change in his demeanor was so subtle that it passed by them.

"Shall we get this over with?" Angie asked Nathan.

He nodded, although he looked very pale. "I guess so."

Next time: Nathan offers some explanations and inspires Francis to speak up.

Master List

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Obviously I'm still really enjoying reading all the comments and tags!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump @starfields08000 @fruitypinapple00

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee

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ktchewy · 6 months

Text

A comparison of some pens I'm currently using and some new pens I acquired

Pens used:

- Uni-ball One P 0.38mm - LAMY Safari <EF> - TWSBI Eco <F> - Pilot Capless/Vanishing Point <F> - Pilot Kakuno <EF> - Ancora Ginza custom pen <MF> - Sailor Hocoro <M, F, fude> - Kakimori brass nib dip pen - Matsubokkuri glass pen

Lengthy review under the read more 🙈

The Uni-ball One P is sort of like the control for the comparisons? Idk LOL we know for sure it's 0.38mm so we can estimate how much thinner/thicker the other pens are. This pen is my go-to for quickly jotting things down, I highly recommend the Uni-ball One series of pens to anyone looking for a gel ink pen! It writes super smooth and has never smudged for me, the way the pens from the P series (P for pocket!) look is also super cute. After using the Uni-ball One pens, other non-fountain pens just don't hit the same. When I was filling out forms during check-in at one of the hotels in Japan, the staff gave me a regular ol' ballpoint pen and after one stroke, I went "nah I'm not writing with this" and grabbed my own pen from my backpack.

The LAMY Safari and TWSBI Eco are both a constant for me, they're always filled and hanging out in my pen case. I know some people don't like LAMY Safaris or TWSBI Eco's because of inconsistent nib qualities from the former and cracking issues from the latter but both of these pens have been pretty solid for me, never had any issues with them (knock on wood! 😳) I included them in this just to compare them with the new pens I got.

I am super in love with the Pilot Capless/Vanishing Point, probably my most favourite purchase of the trip! I used to think my TWSBI Eco wrote smoothly but the Capless straight up gliiiides across the paper. I picked this up in Itoya Ginza and had the chance to try out the EF as well and I think because that one was so thin, there was a bit of feedback so I didn't like it as much. I love writing with this pen so much, it sparks joy!! The retractable mechanism is very convenient for quickly putting the pen down and picking it back up again. Super recommend it to people who are looking to try a higher budget pen. For comparison, this matte black version sells for $275 CAD locally and I got this at Itoya for ¥18,540 (tax free hehe), which equals to about $175-180 CAD.

I actually already have a Pilot Kakuno with an M and F nib in my collection and I wanted to try a thinner nib but for some reason, just the EF Kakuno was super hard to find locally. I forgot to write on my sheet that it's currently filled with Sailor Shikiori Yamadori, because of the thinness though it's hard to see the turquoise colour of the ink haha. I think this size would be perfect for writing in the condensed space of my Hobonichi Weeks, I'll have to test it out in the weekly pages once the proper dates roll around.

The Ancora Ginza pen is also another pen I was looking forward to get, only because it was almost like going to Build-a-Bear but for pens LOL If you want to search more about it, you can try the official Japanese name of it: アンコーラMy万年筆. The model of the pen is a Sailor Profit Jr. and cost ¥4,400, I did research prior going on my trip it used to be ¥3,800 at some point 🥲 You can pick between a regular steel MF nib or a fude nib but I already have a fude Profit Jr so I picked the MF instead. My friend also commented that she thought I would be making multiple pens but I'll be saving my second custom pen for another time just so I have an excuse to go back to Ancora again >:) This nib also feels really nice to write with; no feedback, very smooth. I'm trying to limit my number of inked pens so this comparison was only done by dipping the nib in ink, I do want to fill this pen properly and try journaling with it soon! The only complain I have for this pen is that the cap or body feels a bit squeaky scratchy when I screw them back together, it's most likely just the part I grabbed but the quality might be hit or miss with them. The pen that my friend made is completely fine though! I think it's worth it to get your own pen made because it's such a unique experience.

If you're looking for a dip pen to play around or swatch multiple inks at once, then you'd have to try the Sailor Hocoro dip pen. I previously ordered the fude nib one online and I loved how convenient a dip pen is in general. But because of the nature of a fude nib, it took some time to get used and having to write at a specific angle to get the line width I wanted would sometimes give me wrist pain lmao :') Then not too long ago, Sailor announced that they were releasing a M nib so I added that to my mental list of things to buy, and then seeing how cheap stationery were in Japan, I picked up an F nib (no pen body) and the extra "feed" parts too. The feed isn't necessary but I like that I can write for way longer as opposed to not having it (check out this demo from Yoseka) In hindsight, I wish I had gotten the grey body in Japan. I do like the white body but I just want to keep the bodies with their respective nibs that I got them with and I feel like I might have mixed them up while swatching inks the other day LMAO

The Kakimori dip pen has been in my wishlist for a super long time and I'm very glad I held off from buying it locally in Vancouver or ordering it online. The sakura wood nib holder and the brass nib are listed on a local shop's site for $49.95 and $64.95 CAD respectively, on Kakimori's online shop they're ¥4,520 for the nib holder and ¥7,430 for the nib. In Kakimori's physical store, I got the nib holder for ¥2,970 and the nib for ¥4,950, with the conversion rate, that's like $27-28 for the nib holder and $46-48 CAD for the brass nib!!! 🥴 Price aside, this dip pen is another tool you can use for swatch inks or just drawing/doodling with it, I love the super thick line you can get when you hold it at a low angle, it's how I swatched all those lines in my Hobonichi Weeks. I've always read about how the stainless steel nib is harder and feels scratchier than the brass nib and after having tried both in stores, I do prefer the brass nib a lot more. The stainless steel nib felt like it didn't want to be written with, it just didn't feel pleasant imo. Some people might like feedback in their pens so I do recommend testing the pens out if you're able to before buying them.

This glass pen by Glass Studio Matsubokkuri ガラス工房まつぼっくり is my very first glass pen and I only chose this one because 1) the body is simple and short, I don't like the crazy swirly glass pens I commonly see 2) the triangular body means it's less likely to roll off the table 3) it was easily found at Ancora Ginza LOL I first discovered it when I was watching this youtube channel doodle/swatch inks with it. On Matsubokkuri's own website, they have F, M, and broad listed but there was only one size available at Ancora. I think mine is a F nib but I don't have any other glass pen to compare with so it's totally a guess, I'm just comparing it with my F fountain pens 🤔 The staff at Ancora gave me two pens to test out before purchasing since glass pens will have slight differences between them. They both wrote fine, I only picked the second pen I tried because the swirls in the nib of the first pen looked wonky to me.

If you made it this far down the post, thank you! I just wanted to share my thoughts on the pens that I have and hopefully this can give a little insight and help someone on their own pen journey!! 🫶

#fountain pen #dip pen #stationery #journal #journaling #fountain pens #dip pens #kakimori dip pen #sailor hocoro #glass pen #kt pen talks

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rainbowchewynuggets · 1 year

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re: the fate of TMA: Encore

Up to this point, I’ve been able to get most of TMA: Encore posted. But there are some issues that I’ve been struggling with for a while that are really starting to eat away at my ability to continue.

Even though Encore is practically fully written at this point and I’m just getting the planned drawing sections done, the writing itself is still largely what’s giving me the most trouble.

When I started this project in earnest, I was going off of a very rough outline and mostly writing on the fly. That method works fine for a lot of writers, but it turned out to be really difficult for me. I spent very long periods just trying to figure out how to get from plotpoint A to B to C. I eventually cleared some time to sit down and hammer out a proper coherent script. For logistical reasons, I gave myself about a month to get it done. And I did–which was a huge achievement for me. At the same time, as you can imagine, what I came out with was a little raggedy. I’ve been trying to make small edits as I go to smooth things out and pick up on missed opportunities, but I’m honestly starting to think that it’s just breaking other links in the chain.

The other big reason is due to my decaying relationship with horror. I used to love horror movies and video games, and I reveled in body and abstract emotional horror especially. The Thing. 1408. Silent Hill. TMA’s literary horror vibe was a transformative experience for someone who almost never read for fun growing up. It’s one of my favorite stories, period. Unfortunately, traumatic world events and difficult personal experiences have made horror a lot more… horrible to me in recent years. The tension and terror that used to give me catharsis now only causes me genuine stress. Writing horror still works for me though, which I think has also made it harder to keep myself from going overboard. That fucking concrete forest section with Jon gave me shooting pains to reread.

My point is, I just can’t get myself to relisten to TMA anymore or even take it in by summary. This has left me to rely on my own memory to keep the characters and world consistent with canon. Which is a lot like trying to draw a still-life portrait of wax fruit in 100-degree heat.

The worst part comes in realizing just how smart TMA is. Its explorations of the nature of fear and trauma are what inspired me to want to make Encore in the first place. But the structure and depth of it is even more substantial than I realized when I listened to it. For instance, I recently saw a post talking about how tragic Tim’s character is. He’s such a nice funny guy who does his best to roll with everything in S1, and is slowly ground down to a miserable angry stump of who he used to be by the time of his death. It takes years. And it’s not a natural part of his character. I didn’t write Tim that way in Encore. I figured it would be a lot easier to draw that negativity out of him, in the same way that it doesn’t take a lot of prodding to get Jon to misbehave. That interpretation serves the conflict I wanted to write, but it misses the point of his character, I think. There’s a lot of stuff like that in Encore at such a foundational level that it’s hard to level the dissonance when you compare it to the podcast.

Which sucks, because I originally conceived Encore as a retrospective on what the series was like to listen to (until it took so long to make that I pivoted to make it a separate study on the relationship between fear, pain, and agency, and the existential horror of time travel/immortality). I don’t really feel prepared to do any of that if I’m still discovering so much of what makes TMA work. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think unhinged, canonically-inconsistent fanfiction is bad or shouldn’t exist. But that just isn’t what Encore is supposed to be for me.

All this makes me feel really really… bad. A little bit incompetent, but mostly tired. There are only a few chapters left, and the script is mostly ready to go. Man, I don’t know if I want to go through with it though. My creative spirit has had it rough lately, and I’m about to make some big life changes that are going to make it way harder for me to get art stuff done. And, y’know, I’m supposed to be cutting back on the stuff that makes me more worn-out than happy.

I think I mentioned in a post a while ago that I’ve considered stopping before. I’ve had misgivings about the quality of the writing (and the sheer burden of making full pages of art) for a long time. I convinced myself to keep going because I’ve bailed on a lot of projects over the years and was determined to believe in myself and finish this thing. However, following an audit of the work I’ve put into it, I’m realizing that not finishing wouldn’t make the endeavor a complete loss.

The biggest reason that I make anything is because it makes me a better writer and artist. Even if I’m unsatisfied with the result, I feel accomplished that I sat down and wrote a whole script on a really tight deadline. My usual problem with any writing project is that it keeps sitting on the burner, boiling away, ballooning in scope until it’s impossible to finish. I feel like I’ve been able to make a greater level of peace with compromise and cutting down the stuff in my head to get shit out the door.

Also, tone is hard. Voice is hard. They can be even harder when you’re piggybacking off of another creator. Again, I don’t think that a fanwork or guest work necessarily has to have the same voice as the original. You’re different people, after all. A person can certainly train their tone toward a certain idea with effort, but it helps to know what comes naturally to them. I’m still figuring my own voice out, and it turns out that it isn’t this. The void left behind by my horror safe-space appears to have been occupied by a gif of Gir whacking Shinji Ikari over the head with a frying pan at high speed. Even in Encore’s most manic state, I strain to keep myself from pingponging out of bounds with violent emotional hyperactive energy. Maybe I can try sticking closer to writing action and comedy with only a moderate sprinkling of morose horror.

As mentioned last year, I made important realizations about the way I draw comics. I was taught to draw through studio art where putting your all into every piece is usually the goal. But that’s super unsustainable when you have 7-10 “pieces” to make on every single page. Falling apart halfway through a giant project pushed me to find ways to mitigate the workload without radically changing design consistency. That means formatting, rendering, and composition.

Even before that, the whole fear-color mechanic was a joy to build up. And I finally figured out how to do borderless color art! :3

I can bring all these improvements to the new things I do in the future. All the derivation-related issues in this project are making me think it’s time to move on to original stuff, anyway. Let me tell you, there is a ton of stuff I’d like to make.

TLDR; I’m considering not finishing TMA Encore because I think the quality of the writing has fallen apart, and I need to move away from writing horror and fanworks for a while.

So. The other reason I kept going after that long gap last year was because people appeared to be really into the story. I’d like to give you guys the chance to weigh in on how I handle this. Because for all I know, this is all happening in my head and everything is fine. Your options are:

A) Please finish the last few chapters with art, whenever you get around to it.

B) Please post the last of the script without pictures over the next few weeks.

C) Please don’t worry about finishing it.

Your answer won’t be a definitive vote on what I do, but I do want to value your opinion in what I decide. Through it all, I feel really happy that people have been able to enjoy and express opinions on the longest thing I’ve ever kept going. I look forward to whatever comes next.

Thanks!

Rainbow

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

EDIT:

After careful consideration, I’ve decided to finish posting the whole thing. Chapters will be longer with way less art.

Thank you everyone, for your kind and sincere encouragement and opinions.

:’)

Here’s the next chapter btw

#tma encore #update #important

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theemptysoupcan · 9 months

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Pikmin 1 No Death Run complete!

All parts were collected, with 123 red pikmin, 79 yellow pikmin, and 70 blue pikmin being my final pikmin count for a total of 272!

If you want to hear my ramble about my journey you can click the read more!

I started my journey on the release date of the physical release, aka the 22nd so I managed to beat it in four days! It's been a long time since I last played the og, unfortunately I couldn't get my score due to missing wii nunchucks but I do know I couldn't do it deathless since the infamous deletius pikmin bridge bug! Thankfully they fixed it in this version, so happy! Still played it super careful around the bridges haha.

For the most part, the entire run was super smooth sailing! I only ever had issues with Wollyhops being very inconsistent or pikmin staring at me as they get crushed instead of heeding to my whistle. Sheargrubs also surprised and got me like twice, taught me the value of scouting ahead and beating the everloving daylights out of them with my fists! Except the flying ones those were tricky, I'd have pikmin on standby to shoot them down when they started flying.

I did accidentally summon the Smoky Progg during my second day of Distant Spring, I was so mad.

The only real huge reset point I had was the stupid fricken Burrowing Snagrets in Forest of Hope >:0 The only real way to actually fight them without casualties is getting lucky with rng and Hoping they get stuck in the ground coming up like twice in a row, and that's also praying the other Snagrets don't make an appearance, because they sure love to cameo! I spent like, a whole day on that debacle, frankensteined this piece together because I was so mad.

Soon after making this meme I did eventually get my perfect rng and was able to finish out the Forest of Hope finally, complaining always works! Anyways, wrapping up I genuinely enjoyed this challenge! It was a fun little challenge to dedicate a few days to, and I think honestly with the bridge kill glitch fixed this game is genuinely super fun. It's definitely a lot more unforgiving and challenging without the auto-aim pikmin 3 and pikmin 4 has sorta conditioned me to work with(seeing as there will be no more aim controls in the forseeable future, wii and wii u you will be missed), but it's also super rewarding when you do get those instant kills on sheargrubs and dwarf bulborbs! If you're bored, want a fun challenge, and really enjoy pikmin do give this challenge a go!

#silv plays games #pikmin

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quark-nova · 1 year

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A Prologue to Amniotes

Part III - The “Age of Amphibians”

A long time has passed since my previous blog post. Two months, or around twenty million years, depending on how you count.

We are now in the middle of the Carboniferous (late Mississippian for the Americans out there). Stegocephalians are out of fashion, new models of amphibians have been released. They’re actually able to spend most of their time on land! (well, a few went back to the water, but still)

Unfortunately, there’s no real word for this faunal shift. An interesting concept that we can use, however, is the one of megadynasty. They’re basically evolutionary faunas but on land, an idea introduced by Brenchley and Harper in 1998. Basically, Megadynasty I corresponds to the amphibians and pelycosaurians, Megadynasty II is the therapsids, and Megadynasty III is the dinosaurs. You can quickly see how this is more than approximative, as I doubt Ichthyostega and Dimetrodon have much in common to justify this grouping. Oh, and they forgot the entire Cenozoic.

A better system would be to have a “Megadynasty 0″ corresponding to the stegocephalians (when the “going on land” functionality was still in beta), with I for the later amphibians and II for the pelycosaurians. Here’s a schema:

Seven-megadynasty paradigm, by Quark-Nova (CC-SA 3.0)

Are the amphibians really the only ones to dominate the ecosystem? Certainly not - giant insects and arthropods would certainly like to have a word with them. And, quite honestly, a two-meter long Arthropleura or a 350 kilogram Hibbertopterus would probably win an argument against me on intimidation alone. But, unfortunately for them, I’m still alive and they aren’t - fact is, amphibians and their descendants ultimately did a better job at shaping the megafauna. Which is why the goal of this blog is to talk about synapsid evolution, rather than giant insect evolution.

But what was the Carboniferous like exactly? Popular conception pictures it as a mostly uniform “rainforest” of giant fern trees. And, while it’s not completely wrong, something is quite often left out of the picture. The Middle Carboniferous saw the beginning of the Karoo ice age, an icehouse world that would last until the Permian and see large ice sheets cover much of the planet. But the ice age wasn’t at its peak yet, and amphibians could comfortably chill in the rainforest. For now, at least.

So, what were they doing? Quite a lot, actually. A lot of them decided that becoming l o n g was the way to go, with adelospondyls, aistopods and various other groups ranging in body plans from reptilian ferret to actual snake.

Rhynchonkos, a ferret microsaur, by Smokeybjb (CC-SA 3.0)

A lot of these groups were historically classified as “lepospondyls”, with everyone’s favourite boomerang-headed Diplocaulus, although early tetrapod classification is conspicuously inconsistent - Rhynchonkos up there might actually be an early reptile! Lepospondyls themselves might be more related to amniotes, to modern amphibians, or away from the branch leading to both entirely.

Another group that dominated the middle Carboniferous, temnospondyls, are more well-grounded - both phylogenetically and in terms of their terrestrial lifestyle. The likely ancestors of modern frogs and salamanders, a lot of them were ironically way less reliant on water, with scales allowing them to retain humidity more efficiently (modern amphibians are smooth). They also had way more game impact than their descendants, with even early forms like Capetus reaching a meter and a half, and being more crocodile-like in appearance.

Capetus, an early temnospondyl, by Dmitry Bogdanov (CC-SA 3.0)

Unfortunately, a design flaw still remained, as their eggs and babies still needed water to develop in. Although some temnospondyls had an innovative solution: laying their eggs in humid crevices, allowing them to reproduce even far away from actual bodies of water!

Another group was on the rise, concurrently with temnospondyls. Reptiliomorphs are often discussed as major players in the middle Carboniferous fauna, although this word hides a lot of complexity under the hood. In fact, any creature closer to amniotes than to modern amphibians is classified as a “reptiliomorph” - even possibly lepospondyls. Really, the trend of gradual independence from water wasn’t a linear path, but several groups trying out innovations concurrently. Internal fertilization, direct development (skipping the problematic tadpole stage), and ultimately, one that would revolutionize life on land: the amniotic egg.

#a prologue to amniotes #carboniferous #palaeoblr #mississippian #pennsylvanian #serpukhovian #lepospondyli #temnospondyli #reptiliomorpha

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archivistseye · 2 years

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[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Jonah Hare, regarding a boy they met at summer camp. Original statement submitted September 24th, 2012. Recording by Vester Moth, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Before we continue I must apologize for any inconsistencies or vagueness. You see, this all happened a long time ago, back when I was about fourteen or fifteen. I'm in my thirties now, and my memory was never my strongest point.

But, my statement. Right.

It was at a summer camp.

School had ended for break, and parents were trying to figure out ways to get rid of their kids for just a bit longer. My parents were no different.

So despite my protests they tossed me into a summer camp. It was six weeks long for kids of ages eight to sixteen. I had just had my birthday so I didn't want to hang out with anyone younger than me. I didn't want to hang out with anyone, actually.

I was never the most social child. I had a multitude of reasons, but it was mostly a cycle of deciding I wanted to be alone, to bullies targeting me because I was alone, to me deciding I wanted to be alone because I didn't trust people, to bullies targeting me.

During the first week I kept to myself. I stayed quiet, I spoke when spoken to, and participated in activities as little as possible.

As an alternative, I took to reading the many books on fungus they had in the main cabin. I had always had a bit of an interest in them, something about them being such large contributors to the decay part of the life cycle had me enamoured, so when I saw their large selection of books from local fungi to those even across the world? Well, I was ecstatic.

I spent hours going through the books, reading each page over and over. I loved it.

And I wasn't the only one. I forget his name. I believe it was Stanley or Stokely, perhaps even Sydney. It's not all that important, but what was important, is that he loved fungi just as much as I did.

After years of being alone I finally had a friend who loved what I loved. It was a feeling I'd never felt before.

We would spend all of our spare time talking about our favorite mushrooms and how fascinating each type was. It was some of the most fun I'd ever had.

One day, the camp counselors revealed to us that we would be going on a hike, and that we were to bring journals and write down, draw, and describe all the things we found interesting. It was only natural that the boy and I team up.

At the end of the hike, the kids had the choice to go back to camp, or spend some more time finding things in areas of our choosing. Most kids went back to camp, with only a few of us staying behind. We all decided to split up, save for the boy and I.

It was just the boy and I in the area of the forest we had chosen. We were supposed to be watched by a counselor, but she disappeared at one point and we didn't particularly care to look for her, too wrapped up in our search for fungus.

And fungus, we did find. Of all different shapes and sizes. We had so much fun identifying what mushroom was what, going mostly by our memory of the books we'd read pretty much dozens of times.

It was all smooth sailing, until the boy stumbled across something he didn't recognize. When he called me over, I prepared to identify it and one-up him, but when I looked at it, I was completely and utterly stumped.

It was a bright cyan, frilly and covered in bulbous orange spots. It was beautiful. And something I had never, ever seen before, book or reality.

We stared at it for a moment. My mind was going a mile a minute, debating on whether this may be a mushroom from a county or two over that somehow managed it's way here or if it was an unidentified species.

That thought thrilled me. The idea of finding something new was so incredibly exciting, especially when it was something fungal.

It was then I noticed that during my inner debate, the boy had started poking at the mushroom with his finger. He was tapping and poking at the large orange spots. It snapped at him, told him that he ought to stop. What if this was a mushroom no one had seem before? We must tell someone!

As I say this, he gives one final poke to the bulging spot, and it bursts.

Puss spews out of it, covering his hand in a vile liquid. Some even managed to land on his cheek. It reeked of a smell I would later discover was rot.

I bite back the bile rising in my throat, and tell him we should head back and get cleaned up. He says nothing, and merely nods.

I, fortunately, was far enough away from the mushroom when the spot burst that I didn't get any on me. I certainly felt as though it had.

The boy was... Odd. After that event. He woke me up that night. He asked me to come with him, to see our "secret mushroom." I said no, and that I was sleeping. I told him he should he asleep too. I couldn't quite tell in the dark, but I think his face may have scrunched up. He sighed, and told me he'd go back to bed.

I dont think he did.

He wasn't quite right the day afterwards. Or the day after that. Or the day after that one. He disappeared often. In the time between activities, it seemed no-one could find him. One night, I'd awoken from a puss-filled nightmare and glanced over to his bunk. It was empty.

I knew where he was going, but I didn't say anything. I mean, it wasn't harmful. He was just looking at a mushroom. I figured it would be fine. And it was! For a few days. He... He went missing after the sixth. He left after some camp activity, I don't remember what it was, and he just didn't come back.

I could've told a counselor where he was, should've told them where he was, instead of watching them run around trying to find him. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe I felt like I'd be in trouble for not telling them sooner. Maybe I didn't want them to see the mushroom.

A week after he disappeared I thought it had been long enough. I would go out and find him and that damn mushroom he was obsessed with.

And I did.

I found him. He was sitting next to that cyan abomination. The fungus covered every inch of his arm, it crawling onto his chest and buried itself into where his heart were once located. There was even some on his cheek, right where that foul puss had gotten him.

Everything combined with the smell, a hundred times stronger now that it was a much, much larger mushroom, was too much, and I threw up.

He didn't spare much glance to the vomit. He simply smiled as he looked at me. He told me about how happy he was. How much he loved this revolting fungus and how much it loved him.

He spread his arms open, and his smile widened as he told me it loves me, too. He told me we could continue being friends if I joined him.

I turned, and I ran.

I never saw him again. The counselors had to call his parents. Camp continued on as normal, barely a dent in schedule.

I didn't say anything for the rest of camp. I didn't say anything for a long, long time.

And there we have it. My memory of what happened gets fuzzier and fuzzier each day, so I figured I'd give you my statement now before I forget too much. Thank you for your time.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Interesting. Mushrooms, decay, love. What do they mean?

I wonder how much of this actually happened. It's not that I don't believe M. Hare, I simply can't help but notice their mentioning of their bad memory. But, due to the fact this statement didn't record digitally, I'm compelled to group it into the real statements.

M. Hare didn't give us much information to do research with. They did not tell us when or where this took place, and I found it very difficult to find anything

I really need some assistants.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

#[CLICK]#vester moth #statement #corruption statement #moth01 #tw mushrooms #tw vomit #thank you wallace-marte for the help with figuring out the middle of this!

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taoofshigeru · 9 months

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Sea of Stars Final Thoughts

See this post for my initial thoughts. Comprehensive spoilers to follow, obviously.

---

1) World design was the highlight of the game for me. Each area looked unique and was fun to navigate around, and the way they were able to integrate some puzzle design into it was quite nice. Using the Graplou to get around felt super-smooth, which isn't always the case in isometric-style platformers.

2) Combat was solid but really not much of a challenge. I never game-overed on a boss up to and including the final boss, and both times I did lose was just a mob where I went in without bothering to heal. The key reason for this was Seraï's Disorient was busted and allowed my team to rip through every single-enemy boss like tissue paper. And most bosses were single enemies. You just keep hitting them with turn delays and then they never take turns. Tack on Arcane Barrage and Great Eagle later on in the game and it gets pretty ridiculous.

I mean, lock-breaking is a neat idea but I've experienced very similar things done better in Octopath Traveler's break/boost system, and when I was fighting bosses I kind of wanted to just be doing a game that didn't depend so much on timed hits. Bravely Default II included similarly stunlock-focused moves like BP Depleter or the Bravebearer class' entire moveset, and the main criticism of that game was how it had a counter system where late-game bosses would randomly counter actions taken by the player in ways that many, myself included, felt were punishing and unfair design. And I feel like this game showed me the other side of what happens when you just let a move like Disorient be usable without any sort of punishment.

Crustaleon dropped minions that lasted more then one multitarget attack before he could be delayed, and the Sea Slug dropped boulders even when it wasn't its turn, and I was excited to see one or both of those mechanics be folded into the final boss battle. Given this, the final fight with Aephorul felt like a real anticlimax. It was just a literal curb stomp for the heroes. Aephorul got to take like, 5 whole turns.

All that said, I enjoyed managing and being able to swap out the party of 6 in real time was nifty. I just wish they had done more with it in terms of late-game/true ending bosses with some real teeth.

3) The music was great. Particularly a fan of the Dweller boss theme mix that plays during the Dweller of Torment fight, and that super-amped Glacial Peak theme.

4) Writing/story was where I felt the game really ran into real inconsistencies. If I divide the game into acts.

The first act, up until the Dweller of Woe fight, I was fairly consistently not enjoying the story. The second act, from the Sea of Nightmares to Swan Song of the Warrior Cook, I found to be genuinely inspired. The third act, Seraï's World, Fated Hour up until the final boss fight, did well but also felt like it was somewhat coasting to the end off the strength of the second act. (Resh'an kind of just quits the story after you fight the birds to scroll through his text history with Aephorul and I was expecting him to play a mildly bigger part in the true ending.)

And the pirate dialogue in particular had some real turds that came off as mean-spirited rather than humorous. It's okay to have a story with some whimsy and humor, and for an RPG to poke fun at itself or the genre in general. But there were some jokes there that just personally felt sour to me. Case in point:

My honest opinion is that when the entire second half of your game boils down to using one move on bosses repeatedly until they die, maybe cut the Keenathan half of that exchange. The game and the script is more than this, but that's the quote I'll remember from it the most.

5) All that said, the cast had its moments. Garl is the good boy of all time, and while I'm neutral on Resh'an and Seraï as characters they had this great dynamic during the Dweller of Strife fight that ultimately leads to the warrior cook's untimely death.

Resh'an: "The rules exist for a reason and people will get hurt if I break them." Seraï: "People have gotten hurt following your god damn rules!"

Given that a) Garl dies as a result of Seraï tossing the vial of time at the Dweller and b) Valere and Zale would have died had she not done so, the script leaves room for them to both be kind of right, which I thought was a neat and nuanced writing decision.

I kind of wished they had explored it a bit more, too. Valere and Zale understandably focus on what Garl does while living on borrowed time and that does take precedence. However, after the funeral, it may have been effective for one of them to exchange some harsh words with Seraï over her decision back there. That would have helped crystallize them as two distinct characters with a wider range of emotions. As opposed to just being Garl's matching sidepieces. (Which is itself a fine role, still!)

---

To be clear, I liked Sea of Stars quite a bit! I had beef with some specific elements that keeps it out of my top tier of pixel RPGs, but more than anything I'm really, extremely appreciative that people make games like this. Will look forward to seeing whatever Sabotage does next.

#sea of stars #my two cents #sort of a rant

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a-wild-person · 2 years

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A short (not short, I lied) story of why Pokemon Violet and Scarlet looks so bad to me. Especially this building, which looks like one of the main building of the game.

First of all, the different approach on both parts of this building. One is smooth, no harsh lines or shadows, and the other is the opposite. Windows are simply black precise shapes. Looks not put together, where is the lead artist, why is it not coherent? The obviously copy and pasted five columns look so out of place it makes me want to cry. If you want to make it work, everything should follow the same rule, but just under, the windows are blue, detailed, the building have tiny shapes to add to bigger shapes, it's good.

The color of these five stupid collums. Why do they not match the beautiful architecture just under it? This brown is bland, dirty and poor. The color right under is lively, pastel almost, maybe with some orange or pink mixed into it. Not a stupid brown. The lightning effect don't even match. What happened? Why? Did one guy do one part and one guy the other without ever talking to each other? On one of what seems like one of the most important building???

The effects aren't coherent. I've watched the new trailer a couple times over to understand. The lightning of the characters and the world are vastly different. They don't fit in. Character is smooth, no harsh shadows, his own shadow is blue and not black. The tree however, it has barely no transition from light to shadow and the shadow is way too black so it stands out. What you learn when you make an image is that contrast attracts the eye. So you see the tree first. Not the character. Which is dumb.

What do you see? The big thing on the right that towers over the image. The trees. Then the pokemon, that many missed the first time even if it was its very reveal because you don't see it, you see something else.

Now that I look at these two images, I think the lightning problem comes from the fact that the shadows are too dark and inconsistent. The substitute has a blue tinted lighter shadow and the other a harsh black shadow. I've seen it mentionned before, the world mostly need reflective light. It's the light that bounces off evertything and makes it that when you're behind an object and the light doesn't directly lit you, you still see the back of the object: it's not pure black. It's not suddenly night just because you're behind an object. That's reflective light.

If it costs too much to have the calculations run for this kind of light in Pokemon (which really, I am not qualified to tell), they should at least make it less dark and maybe have a colored tint. Shadows often aren't black, and light often isn't white. It's not what you learn when you have education about how to make an image in colors. This looks like screenshots from Pokepark 2.

Which, NEVERMIND, it's not even that dark because they couldn't afford to make reflective light so they made the shadows LESS DARK. THIS GAME IS FROM 2011. I'm sorry, but Pokepark 2 looks better. TEN YEARS APART.

And then I'm just going to say a word on the 3D models. Which are, in my opinion, with the 3D models of the Pokemon themselves, the least terrible looking things of the game.

One. Colors don't match. Maybe it's delibarate, but because I find the 2D artwork much better looking, I think that's a shame. The orange is much brighter, the green accent too, her skin is a little darker, less orange and more cold. It's also a tendancy, they darken the eyes, which makes them pop less.

Especially on this character. The 3D model has very dark makup that the 2D artwork does not have. The eyes do not pop.

I'm quickly going to talk about the hair and the 3D choices they made to adapt the 2D design (which are fire, they are so good omg!!!) They try to make realistic a cartonish style. I'm sure in some ways it could work, but it doesn't, it could be much better. The strength of Pokemon designs are their use of lines and shapes, which are well-defined. Big shapes, beautiful lines that tend to be altered in the 3D models. The hair and its texture is very distracting from the lines. All the tiny hair that you see, how the end of the shape is split like real hair would do, it hurts the deisgn. It's noise that wasn't supposed to be there. The parting of the hair is even lost, because there isn't enough contrast, which completely changes the perseption of the character. It reads like one big messy shape, but is at least 3 in the 2D design.

I personnaly think Pokemon should stick to very Cartoon deisgns and embrace it. It is their strength. However, if they do wish to make it more realistic, it has to be good. I personnaly even think they should stick to 2D, because they are really good at 2D. Pokemon Legends of Arceus had its flaws, but I thought it was alright. Scarlet and Violet are starting to really cross the line for me. They're losing what makes their 2D designs and artwork absolutely stunning and unique. They made 3D games that worked well. Pokemon Let's go Eevee and Pikachu are what I consider is the best 3D they have ever made, in terms of colors, 3D models and lightning. I wish it back.

I'm still wishing for a Pokemon Hollow Knight. Because I think Pokemon could fit very well with the formula.

End of rant.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon #pokemon trailer #gen 9 pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet

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qwanderer · 2 years

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Today's writing has been a lot of little things, but it's all adding up to some very nice progress. While I was at work I considered the new material I have to write for the parts of the book that are going to change the most, and came up with some ideas. After I got home I did a lot of just skimming through the file to get a better handle on what needs doing where, but I also fixed some of the inconsistencies I created by moving material around yesterday, smoothed out some of the resulting jagged transitions, and added a couple of the background information and description bits I'd been writing to sprinkle in. Dealt with some small-to-medium editorial suggestions I ran into in those areas of the story as well.

I think it's about time for me to start zooming in and working my ideas in on a fine-grained level from the beginning. I'm not sure how I'm going to reshape the very beginning yet though!

Really excited to see how the second draft shapes up!

#writing #editing #the grafting mark

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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

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when you’re crying over something... somewhat silly

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Tsukishima Kei, & Kozume Kenma, all with a Fem!Reader

Warnings: subtle mentions in Iwaizumi’s that Y/N might be having her period, but fluff otherwise! Also, I very much so didn’t look over this much and kinda rushed the idea so I’m sorry for any inconsistencies or mistakes!

A/N: these are totally made up situations and definitely not situations based on me and my real life period moments when I cry at everything LOL (a nice thank you to my IRL boyfriend for putting up with my shenanigans haha). Also thank you @thisnoodlewritesao3 for coming up with the idea for Kenma’s! I hope you all enjoy!

Haikyuu Masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Iwaizumi was going to kill Oikawa. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he got the sense that the tears in your eyes were because of that idiot. He had only just arrived at your place and you had seemed totally fine earlier when he called to make sure it was okay for him to swing by. So what had happened between then and now?

“Why’re you crying dear?” Iwaizumi’s voice was soft as he climbed into your bed with you, opening his arms and letting you crawl into his lap.

“C-Cause Oikawa and I were sending each other things through Instagram and he showed me this post that said that penguins mate for life. And the male will go around looking for the s-smoothest rock he can find to give to his mate so that they can make a nest together,” you hiccuped, inhaling shakily as you retold the not-so-sad fact.

Iwaizumi just stared at you. He didn’t want to be that guy but he knew the signs. You had specifically been craving your favourite chocolate bars this week and even snapped at him the other day for breathing too loud. You had complained yesterday about your shoulders and back hurting, even after he had helped rub out any tight spots.

He knew it didn’t matter whether you were having that or not, your feelings were all valid, but it definitely explained why you were crying like someone had just died.

“Isn’t that good?” He asked you finally, kissing your forehead gently as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

You just nodded and sniffled in his arms, clutching his shirt, “Y-Yea.”

“So why are you crying, my love?” he asked with a soft chuckle and you looked up at him with a tearful smile.

“Cause... would you give me a pebble if we were penguins?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t contain his laughter, pressing his head to yours as he hugged you even tighter, “I love you,” he finally said with a grin. “And yes, I’d give you a pebble.”

Your tears cleared up after his answer, smiling to yourself as you thought about you and Iwaizumi’s as penguins and building a nest together.

But it didn’t take long for your tears to start again when Iwaizumi picked up a nice smooth and pretty looking rock on your evening walk together and handed it to you, asking to be mates for life. He apologized profusely as you cried but you tried to insist that you were happy and held the little rock in your hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he closed his eyes in annoyance. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into you recently but he knew that him yelling at you was probably just going to make things worse.

Your sniffling only irked him more though. He hated knowing you were crying over something easily solvable but refused for it to be fixed.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whined when he finally opened his eyes and give you a slight glare. “I just want snacks!” Your eyes were filled with tears as you hugged your knees to your chest, pouting to yourself on his bed.

“I told you, we can go get the snacks then. You just have to get out of bed,” Tsukishima told you for what felt like the 50th time.

You shook your head stubbornly, wiping your tears from your eyes quickly, “No! I don’t wanna leave! I’m comfy! If we leave, I have to come back and no longer be as comfy!”

Tsukishima breathed in slowly, trying to remember that he loved you and he had known you were going to be this difficult when he first asked you out. You were stubborn and stupid and annoying but he loved it and he found you oddly amusing. Except for right now maybe.

“Okay, so I’ll go get the snacks. Just let me get ready-” he stood up from the bed, already planning the mini trip in his head.

But your hand grabbed his and tugged him back on the bed, shaking your head yet again, “No! I don’t want you to leave!” You insisted, hugging his arm. “Don’t go!”

“How do you expect me to get you snacks without leaving, Y/N,” he groaned, flicking your head with his free hand. “You gotta pick. You either come with me and get snacks, let me go get the snacks, or live without snacks.”

You didn’t like either of these three options and just whimpered some incoherent noises, grabbing a pillow and stuffing your face into it with some more sounds.

Tsukishima sighed and glanced at his phone and the clock next to him. His fingers tapped lightly on the screen before pulling you close to him and curling up next to you in bed. “Come on, put on that dumb anime you like.”

You whined out some more noises, still upset there were no snacks for you to eat while the two of you hung out, but you complied and just watched your shows with Tsukishima. He was just glad he was able to distract you long enough while Akiteru ran to the store and got you the snacks you had been craving and brought them over.

You had only just stopped crying and probably forgotten about the snacks, when Akiteru came knocking with his arms filled with everything. You started crying almost immediately out of happiness and Tsukishima felt so embarrassed with how tightly you hugged him in front of his brother (though he likes making you happy, even if you’re happy while crying).

Kenma wasn’t sure what to do, finding you on the floor of your room in tears with your headphones in your hands.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asked you quietly, kinda annoyed that you had asked him to randomly come over tonight, but also still kinda happy to see you.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, holding them up to him as he stood next to you, “It’s too loud.”

Kenma stared at you blankly for a moment, “Just turn down the headphone volume.”

“But then it’s too quiet!”

The boy wasn’t quite sure what you wanted him to do about this, and wondered why he had dragged himself out of a game just to see you.

Right, I love her, he reminded himself with a sigh, plopping onto the floor next to you. “Why don’t you just play without headphones then?” He asked, glancing at the game that was currently paused on your tv screen.

“Cause I don’t wanna bug everyone else when it gets louder,” you pouted, curling up in a ball and hiding your face from him. “I’m sorry, Kenma, I didn’t mean to bring you here over something so stupid,” you mumbled, knowing that tonight, Kenma had wanted to try and finish the level on his game he had been stuck on for weeks now.

“It’s fine. If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have come,” he shrugged, reaching over and patting your head slightly. “Don’t cry though, it’s not worth your tears,” he insisted, going to your game options and changing the settings of how loud the game itself was. “Here.”

He moved to put your headphones back on your head, glancing at you every time he rearranged the settings to see if you liked it better or worse, “Is that okay?” He asked after a moment.

You nodded slowly, a bit embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. Kenma was sure to get annoyed with you if you kept pulling shit like this. He’d get bored with you like he did with games he had already played.

“Can I play with you?” He asked suddenly, grabbing the second controller that was lying on a nearby table.

You looked up at him in surprise, “You want to stay?”

He gave a small nod, eyes still fixated on the game on the screen, “I’ve never played this game with two players. Plus I’m already here and you’re the only person I like to play 2 player games with. Kuroo gets too loud and annoying,” he explained, already setting up the game even if you hadn’t officially said yes yet.

But the two of you got comfortable real quick, Kenma guiding you through all the cool easter egg parts of the game, a small smile on his face when he glanced down at you to see how intrigued you were by the game.

“I like playing with you,” he said after a moment, randomly.

You watched him with wide eyes, measuring the genuineness of his words by the expression on his face (though Kenma never seemed to say anything he didn’t mean). “I like playing with you too,” you whispered, tearing up again. Kenma quickly tried to distract you with the game as he noticed the tears, but soon realized that cuddles worked just as well.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @devilkittymusic @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs

#iwaizumi x reader #tsukishima x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi hajime #tsukishima kei #kenma kozume

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recordmcqueen · 2 years

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s3 kaizo and glx kaizo are two different beings

damn right they are but its still so disappointing knowing what we lost in terms of fanservice but gained in terms of questionable redemption fuel that (surprise, surprise) never got used (,,,yet, anyway, but monsta takin their sweet time with that reconciliation arc in the comic)

from a simp/fanservice standpoint s3 kaizo easily takes the cake: he has this self-assured energy that makes him really feel like he owns whatever room he walks into even if his purpose is to get high off torturing kids, and monsta went and hired the most smooth seductive voice artist possible just to amp up his desirability by 1000%, and the animation just gave him these really over the top dramatic movements that could bring any fangirl to her knees. galaxy kaizo just. isnt it. ok :"3

from a lore standpoint ill say theyre both about equal but painfully inconsistent which is where the s3 kaizo =/= glx kaizo really hits home because s3 has a very 'space rebel does what he wants' kind of mindset which is very intriguing and has a lot of room to explore his backstory and why hes Like That but then its all retconned in galaxy where glx kaizo is part of tapops and literally working under the orders of someone else which is just so ooc? lahap is never mentioned again and instead we get hints of history with manramen who is ALSO never mentioned again except for trivia and cameo purposes.

backstory comic is a mixed bag because you can reasonably connect younger!kaizo's behaviour with either of his 'future' iterations BUT NOT BOTH like ok fine he lost his parents he trained under maskmana and then PRESUMABLY defected and decided to go solo that could make sense yk like hes been disillusioned by the system and takes out his unprocessed trauma on fang and projects his control issues onto him ILL BUY THAT OR he really did train under maskmana and joined the tapops/tempur-a alliance organization where he works for the higher ups and fang later trains under them too BUT you cant have both it jsut doesnt make sense its like two alternate universes where this orphan with a younger brother becomes a (problematic)hero or a villain

and of course from a kaizo and fang dynamic standpoint which is imo the most relevant given that fang is actually part of the main cast and kaizo ISNT: s3 kaizo is absolutely beyond the point of redemption. the only option is for fang to cut ties with him either subvertly where he distances himself enough for it to not matter, or directly where he snaps and lashes out at his abuser. galaxy kaizo, on the other hand, has the aforementioned redemption fuel where there is a chance for him to patch things up with fang because of implications that both sides still care and have concern for each other deep down. HE HAS A CHANCE but hes taking a painfully long time to use it and honestly im not even sure if i trust monsta to do that job right so i guess we're left at this crossroads where things could go in any direction from here. are they gonna keep being awkward about things till they eventually drift apart? is fang gonna keep letting himself be broken down by kaizos neglect till it affects him in another area of life? is fang finally gonna snap and assert his own rights and needs???? literally who knows </3

sorry this got long but u know me i see 'kaizo' and immediately go off aDFBJAFBJALJAL but anyway yes youre absolutely right and i will die on this hill

#allya squawks #allya answers #bbb #boboiboy #do i have a kaizo tag #i forget #its all in the bbb tag anyway im sure #:p #allya rants

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

#spn #asks #anonymous #abuse tw #violence tw

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