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#my sense of fear is completely whacked
shadowbriar · 2 months
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Matt Murdock - Waste My Time
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Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.7k Warning : (18+) Short smut. A bit of non-con in the end? Angst. Kinda not liking Matt here tbh. Also not proofread as my laptop is still whack. Synopsis : He feared the true nature of her heart. He fears that the hanging question of their situation was only felt by him, that the growing fondness was only flowing one way. Notes : There should be a prequel for this but idk when I could write it. Please nag me for it so I'll have the motivation to write. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕
The air smells sinful.
Their bodies were pressed together, separated only by the thin layer of their sweat. Her body was aching, nearly cramping from all the jolts of electricity surging through her veins. She’s lost count of the many times the sense of warmth pooling in her lower stomach bursted like a tidal wave yet she couldn’t find it in her to ask him to stop. There could never be enough of Matt Murdock in her, ever.
Matt’s muscles were tensing on top of her. His grunts were becoming louder in her ears as he tried to suppress them by leaving a trail of wet kisses around her neck. He was close, she could feel it.
“I’m—,”
“I know,” She croakes, finishing the words he couldn’t continue as he falls deeper into ecstasy “Let it go.”
Matt lets out a small chuckle as the bed squeaks with each of his thrust, “We’re really gonna break this bed soon.”
“Well, thank God it’s yours and not mine.”
He didn’t waste any more energy in talking as he kissed her deeply. Matt closes his eyes tight, trying to find and commit to the best rhythm to reach their climax as soon as possible. He was close, but she was a few thrust behind and it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of him to finish without her.
With his right arm supporting his body weight, Matt’s left hand reaches down to her clit. Her feet buckled when his callous thumb rubs her throbbing bud. A small smirk forming on his face as he feels her heartbeat quicken. As much as he loves their intimate session, he really couldn’t hold his release any longer and he’ll swear he’ll explode any second now from the tension.
“Matt—,” She squeals “I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can, baby. Just— One more,” He breathes, his grunts getting louder as his thrust becomes sloppier “One more for me, please.”
And that’s when she feels it, another rush of ecstasy building inside her. She pulls him tighter, nails digging into the muscles of his broad shoulders. The mark certainly feels like nothing compares to the injuries he’d often sustain from his delinquent nightly activities, but it made him groan nonetheless.
Matt’s face now hovers over her, mouth agape as he tries to keep his sanity as they’re reaching their orgasm. A couple more thrust and Matt could feel her whimpering under him once more. He follows not long after, sinking into the crook of her neck as energy completely flush out of his body.
“That was good cardio.”
Matt chuckles, “Who would’ve thought we’d be such health conscious people, huh?”
She laughs in response, her fingers finding their way to play with the soft strands of his hair. 
Their breathing slowly calms and so do their hearts. Matt now pulls away from her neck, still on top of her as he adjusted his weight to his arms so that he wouldn’t crush her for much longer. He could feel her staring. He wonders what she might be thinking right now. Was she pleased? Is she happy? Does she want this to last as much as he does?
Instinctively, Matt leans in for a kiss. It was a much softer kiss than the one they shared a couple minutes ago. His lips touch her gently as if they were fragile petals of rose. His right hand finds its way to cup her cheek, thumb caressing her jawline gently.
“Matt,” She says, pulling away and looking away so that he’d stop kissing her “I think I want to clean up now.”
And there it is again, the strange thump in her heartbeat. He’s noticed the change of her pulse lately, especially when he kisses her more softly than he usually does. She would let him kiss her for a while, returning the gentle gesture before pulling away as if someone’s poured her with a bucket of cold water.
“Uh, sure. Of course.” He says instead, slowly moving to the side so that she could get off the bed “Do you want some help with that?”
“No, I’m okay.”
The sound of her footsteps leaving the bed becomes louder in his ears as she gets further away. A bitter sense of resentment builds in his heart. What happened? What went wrong? Does she not like it when he kisses her that way? 
Matt knew that from the get go that they’ve agreed to keep their ‘affair’ clean of feelings. That they would just waste each other’s time but it was certainly easier said than done. They’re just friends, sure. She’s the one person that could topple Foggy for a friendship battle in his heart, but lately it’s been much more than that. It’s been much more than stolen minutes of holding her close after their shared nights. It’s been much more than marking her skin and hoping that it could actually mean something more than just bruises of love. It’s been much more than friends who waste each other’s time by kissing in dark rooms.
The sound of water trickling from the shower head is now heard. Matt knew that if he wanted to, he could focus his hearing through the noise of the water to hear her true feelings, but he chose not to. He feared the true nature of her heart. He fears that the hanging question of their situation was only felt by him, that the growing fondness was only flowing one way. What was he supposed to do then if that was certainly the case? He’d rather lose a limb than to lose her, be it as a friend, a sex partner, or perhaps a lover.
—-
It was one of those rare nights when Matt chooses to actually socialise and put the mask down for a couple hours. The place was packed with friends and loved ones. Foggy and Marci’s engagement party is certainly lavish with expensive champagne and grand decoration. Marci must have certainly bent over backwards to make sure everything went perfectly tonight.
She was standing by the sofa on the patio, watching Matt being so immensely interested in whatever discussion he’s having with one of the guests. Must be someone he knew back in Columbia from the way he looks so at ease. His brilliant wide smile never leaves his face. She was sure that his cheekbones must be threatening to fall anytime soon from all the grinning he’s doing.
“You must be Matt’s new nurse.”
She turns to see a beautiful woman, smiling brightly at her, “You must be Claire.”
“I am, indeed.” Claire nods “Matt has told me so much about you.”
“I hope he’s not complaining to you about how unskilled I am with stitching his wounds,” She groans, rolling her eyes “It’s not even my fault that his scars are never healing. Everytime I stitch one up he’ll manage to rip it open that very night whilst gaining a new wound. How am I supposed to work my healing magic if he’s so determined to hurt himself like that?”
Claire chuckles, nodding in understanding, “Why do you think I quit?”
She smiles, appreciating Claire’s company.
In no time the two women were talking and laughing together. It pains her to know just how charming Claire truly is. Matt had told her about Claire and why she chose to leave Hell’s Kitchen and ultimately him. She wonders if he ever had any regret not letting his walls down for her.
“Claire, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything.”
“How did you do it?” She asks, hesitation evident in her tone “How did you leave Matt?”
The kind smile on Claire’s face faded a little. Her brows furrow for a while before shaking her head as a sign of confusion. It was certainly the least expected question she was hoping to hear from someone Matt has been boasting so fondly about.
“I know you care about Matt deeply, don’t get me wrong,” She explains fast “I just— Matt told me that you two had.. Something. I just wanted to know how you could get yourself out of it.”
Claire’s expression turns into an understanding one, “I hope I’m not understanding your question wrongly but Matt could be.. Quite hypnotising at times. I’m sure you know that best, being one of his childhood friends.”
She flashes a small smile.
“I guess, I just didn’t want to be sucked into the blackhole that is Matt Murdock.” Claire sighs, a satisfied smile lingers on her lips “It would be practically inevitable for you to get out of his grasp once you’re wrapped around his fingers and as you know, he’s not one to have ‘back down’ in his dictionary, ever.”
She rolls her eyes, “Tell me about it.”
“Well, Matt also has so many layers to himself. As much as he pulls you, he would push you away and I guess I wasn’t looking for that kind of relationship.” Claire continues “You can love Matt as much as you possibly could, beat yourself black and blue just to keep him, but in the end, the only one who knows what Matt Murdock wants is Matt Murdock.”
Claire’s words sink into her brain. None of the things she uttered were news to her. She knew Matt better than anyone and it was all true. As much as Matt pulls you, he would push you just as strong. He’s a complicated man with a complicated history. Yet with all the knowledge she has of him, with all the years they’ve spent as friends, with all the understanding they have for each other, she still couldn’t decipher his true motive.
Matt’s sudden change of action scares her. He becomes more attentive, more gentle and spends more time with her after each of their ‘cardio’. He would cuddle with her, staying in bed until the sun started waking. His kisses no longer feel needy but longing instead. The way his hands dance around her body feel much more calculated, much more cautious as if he’s afraid of making mistakes.
Now if the reason for all of these changes were of what she hoped for, that a certain sentiment was growing for her just as much as she yearns for him, then this would certainly be their happy ending, but Matt is known to be quite the womaniser. He has that charm that he never shied to use around women. Though she loves him with all of his brilliance and mischievous traits, for once she fears of what he might truly have at heart.
“Is everything alright between you two?” Claire asks, snapping her out of her thoughts “Is there something you wanted to share with me?”
She shakes her head, feigning a smile, “Nothing. I just wanted to know what happened between you two so I can nag him later about it.”
Unbeknownst to the two ladies, Matt has heard all of their exchanged words. His grip on his white cane was borderline destructive, knuckles white from how much he’s trying to bottle his emotions. Is she planning to leave him? Is that what’s happening?
Is that why she always avoids his gentle touch? Because she doesn’t want to be that attached to him? Does this mean that he truly has been barking up the wrong tree? That his feelings really flows one way?
—-
“How did you even get this drunk, Matthew?”
She stumbles to help him get to his apartment. Some time after her lovely chat with Claire, she finds Matt pissed drunk in one of the rooms in Marci’s apartment. He was hammered, slurring words that could barely be understood. His glasses were tossed to the floor, white cane laying feet away from where he was slumping at. Something was wrong.
Closing the door behind them, she puts Matt’s arm around her shoulders as a means of support. She knew that she could barely offer any stability for him, but it would be better than having nothing, she reckons. He surely can’t lean on his white cane to navigate.
But before they could get in further inside the apartment, Matt pushes her to the wall. He was pining her in place. He licks his lips, listening to her heartbeat that’s starting to thump harder than it did a few minutes ago. She was scared.
“Matt—,”
Before she could finish her words, Matt leans in and kisses her hungrily. He pushes his body to come in contact with hers, pressuring her to keep still as his hands now hold her wrists.
“Matt, let me go.” She says between the kisses “You’re hurting me.”
Matt didn’t stop. He kisses her, nibbles on her lips until he could feel the foul taste of iron. He wasn’t sure whose blood it is he’s tasting but he couldn’t careless. His left hand now cups her cheek as his elbow pins her hand still. It was practically impossible for her to move.
“Matt, stop!”
Only then did he finally pull away. He lets her go, taking a few steps back as he pants from the adrenaline and anger poisoning his blood, “Leave.”
She blinks, completely confused as to what is happening to him, “What?”
“Leave this apartment and never come back.” Matt says coldly “I don’t want you to ever come back to my place, do you hear me?”
“I— What are you talking about?”
“I said, leave!”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on!” She yells back. She was afraid, her heartbeat must have told Matt about her true feelings but she wouldn’t run out of this place without getting any explanation. Not after that rude and forceful kiss he gave her just now.
Matt’s lips were locked in a thin line. He couldn’t piece the words he wanted to utter. There’s so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to shout, but all he could think about was the heartbreak his chest was concealing. His heart was aching and it pains him even more that she was oblivious about it.
“What happened, Matt?” She asks once again, this time with a softer tone though the state of her heartbeat was still erratic.
“This isn’t working.”
She blinks, hardly understanding his words, “What isn’t?”
“Us, this! Whatever this is.” He says as his hands do all the gestures of his frustrations “It’s not working anymore.”
“That’s certainly not what you said last night when you fucked me on the sofa.” She scoffs “What is wrong with you? What happened at that party?”
Matt’s breathing was uneven. His chest heaving up and down in the most foul way that he just wanted to grab his mask and find someone he could actually beat into pulp. He was frustrated. The aching in his heart amplifies with every ticking second and the fact that he’s put himself in this situation infuriates him even more. She was clear as the sky about what she wanted from this ‘relationship’. Matt has got no one else to blame about his burning fantasy than himself.
“I used to think that we can do this to waste some time,” He breathes in a low growl “Now I realise that you’re just wasting my time.”
“I’m wasting your time?”
Matt went tight lipped.
“I’m wasting your time,” She repeats, still in disbelief “I’m not the one who begs the other to stay till morning, Matthew. I’m not the one who texts the other every fucking night like a clingy boyfriend. If anything, you’re the one who’s wasting my time!”
“Well, then leave! What are you still doing here? Leave!”
There was a hint of salty taste in the air now. Matt knows that he’s crossed a line he’s never done before. Her heartbeat was still racing, but this time it was caused by a completely different reason. Before she was afraid and unsure, but now she was angry. So angry that Matt knew it wouldn’t be the kind of dispute that would subside in a week or two. This is the kind of anger that would leave marks that only time and the Universe could heal.
“Fuck you, Matt.”
A loud slam of the door was heard as she left him all alone in his apartment. The silence that follows was deafening. Matt could feel his apartment growing as his body shrinks down to the void he’s slowly drowning in. He’s burned all the bridges they’ve ever built before. As of tonight, it was certain that he’s lost a friend, a sex partner, and perhaps a lover.
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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 months
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MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC - CHAPTER ONE: COMPLICATED?
summary: the vacation at martha's kicks off in full swing, but one comment that apparently came from tyson's mouth not only sends your mind spinning, but throws your entire focus out of whack (+neon dinosaur undies)
warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, overthinking, pining (i should also warn you this is gonna be a slow burn so buckle up), oblivious idiots
word count: 3.3k (she's a short one)
prologue | series masterlist | next part
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“So…” 
Even the tone of Toni’s voice indicated that she was setting up for girl talk, which, to be honest with her, had been banned within the last seven hours because the boys had both been with one of you nearly all the time, which meant having your little chats was literally impossible.
Until now: Mat and Tyson had both booked a water ski and water board session for the next hour, and neither you or Toni had really had any intention to do it with them, partly because you’d only stepped off a plane mere hours ago, but mostly because it was the first day, and the only thing on either of your minds was relaxing on the nearest stretch of beach, reading in the sun. 
In theory, you should have seen her questioning coming from a mile away.
You sighed, turning your head away from your book as you placed it in the beach bag next to you. Toni had been sitting up on your left, applying suncream and every so often you could see her eyes flicker to the boat you both knew the boys to be on. You were pleasantly surprised it took her so long to begin the line of questioning, but you’d already exhausted the whole ‘oh my god, this place is beautiful’ conversation, and the beach you’d occupied wasn’t very busy either.
“So?” You repeated, adjusting your sunglasses so you could see Toni properly.
She rolled her eyes, smiling at your faux obliviousness, “You and Josty look pretty cosy.”
“In what way?” 
Truthfully, you were curious as to what the two of you looked like from an outside perspective. Sure, Tyson was usually an affectionate person  - with other people. But with you, it was like he was scared to touch you properly. Where he’d probably throw an arm around someone if he was standing with them, say, in an airport, like you were this morning, but with you he’d just stand next to you closely, his arm or front pressed to your back. He wouldn’t budge his hands - not even if it got busy and you had to make your way through a throng of people. 
It was kind of weird, to be honest, because you guys flirted - there was an odd dynamic and hidden tension - but it would never surpass words. That was due to Josty being uncharacteristically non-touchy (unless it couldn’t be helped), and you, you guessed. You weren’t really too touchy with anyone, and it occurred to you, just then, that it was your penchant to keep yourself to yourself that threw Tyson off.
It was why you were a little curious as to what Toni had made of it all.
Toni hummed, hesitating almost, and you immediately knew that she’d picked up on something, “I don’t know, but it’s like you’re on each other’s wavelength mentally, but it’s not really backed up properly.” She paused, thinking, “You guys don’t touch each other. If you touched each other, there wouldn’t be a doubt in my mind that you weren’t together, but…He looks at you like he’d let you break his heart, if that makes sense.”
It didn’t make sense, not at all, really. 
You shrugged, “We’re just good friends.”
Toni froze, hand pressed to her forearm where she’d been rubbing her suncream in, and tilted her head, “No.” She said, a hint of defiance in her tone.
“Yes.”
“That’s not what Mat told me.” 
There was a shoot of uncertainty that buried itself in your chest as it propelled you into a sitting position, your brows knitted together in both complete and utter befuddlement, and downright fear. Mat had to have gotten that from somewhere, “What did Mat tell you?”
Toni swallowed, clearly sensing something was amiss with your reaction, “He said that Tyson had told him it was complicated. I asked why but he said he didn’t know, I just assumed you guys were hooking up or keeping it quiet, that’s why it was weird you weren’t touching each other.”
You shook your head, “No, we…Tyson said it was complicated?” You clarified, a hand getting thrown out into the space between you.
A small smile crept onto Toni’s face, and you could understand why. If the roles were reversed, you’d have found the entire situation somewhat hilarious, of course you would: other people’s drama always was, but not yours.
If there was one thing that remained constant between you and Tyson, it was that you rarely had drama. Your relationship was pretty steady, it had been that way for years. Well, up until Buffalo happened. Then things got a bit weirder the more you saw each other on a weekly basis, and it started after a drunken night out and a bad game of Twister, and from then on something sort of just went a little more unsaid.
But this was a little extreme.
Toni nodded, “Apparently.” Then, in your silence, “Have you two ever hooked up?”
You shook your head, a perturbed expression still on your face.
“Almost hooked up?” This time Toni’s voice seemed to climb in pitch, an almost disbelieving tone etched in her own voice.
“Not that I’m aware of.” You shrugged, this time your eyes going out to take a quick glance at the sparkling waters in front of you.
You could make out their boat in and amongst other ones, a wakeboard and a figure attached to the back of it, a spray of water kicking up behind. You squinted your eyes; it was too tall to be Tyson – too pale. 
Toni hummed thoughtfully, returning her attention back to applying her sunscreen. You were about to pick up your book again to try and distract yourself from what Tyson had told Mat (what part of your relationship was complicated?), when she spoke up again, a little quieter, “I still think he looks at you differently.”
You didn’t even bother asking how.
***
One of your favourite things about going on holiday was the getting ready for tea; a nice shower to clean your skin of sticky sunscreen and saltwater always provided such a relief, and getting changed into a pretty dress and putting on some light makeup fresh out of a shower was an experience completely unmatched in your day to day life. It might have also had something to do with the fact that you were in Martha’s Vineyard with Tyson, Mat and Toni, and although it had only been one day, it felt like the much-needed getaway from your working life. 
A little escape every now and then couldn’t hurt, and the company certainly helped alleviate any tension.
You’d only just managed to put on your dress when there was a knock at the door. 
Considering the fact that you could hear Mat singing along with the music from the house speakers, and you knew Toni had just gone downstairs to supervise, it meant that Tyson was the one knocking.
He’d not had the chance to shower and get dressed yet because you’d been using the shower, and when he slinked in, back-first, you couldn’t resist the amused smile on your face at his caution.
“You can turn around, I’m dressed.” You laughed softly, sitting on the stool of the vanity and eyeing him through the mirror.
He spun around, eyes bouncing from you to the towel folded neatly on the end of his side of the bed (his side because you had your bags and shit across your side), before his gaze returned back to you.
“Is it okay if I just take a quick shower?” He asked, already reaching for the towel.
“Sure, do you want me to leave—”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He brushed your question off and disappeared through the bathroom door.
It took a couple of seconds for your brain to really digest what he’d just said.
It’s fine.
It’s fine? Fine for what? Fine for you to see him in his naked glory, or fine that meant he trusted you wouldn’t look?
You hadn’t seen him grab his undies from his suitcase thrown under the bed, so he’d just wander out into your shared room in nothing but a towel, dripping wet, curls sopping and water droplets rolling down his chest? He expected you to be cool with that?
You couldn’t be cool with that. You’d seen him getting out of the ocean, sure, but a shower felt different. There was barely ten feet between you both in this room at all times, and the door was shut — claustrophobic. That’s what it felt like, imagining Tyson climbing out of the shower smelling of his shower gel had you feeling claustrophobic. Your skin was prickling and you felt your cheeks get hotter by the second.
Why was this bothering you so much? 
You’d seen Tyson naked before, almost. He’d showered at yours and you’d gone into the bathroom with permission because he’d forgotten…he’d forgotten his underwear and his towel had slipped. He’d caught it easily, what with those hockey reflexes and all, but you’d seen the deep v-line, the happy trail and the beginnings of a short trim of pubic hair.
It hadn’t bothered you then, and the only thing that had changed remotely since that incident was that talk with Toni.
Tyson said it was complicated.
In what fucking way was your relationship complicated? Had you misread something? Missed signals? Given him the wrong idea? (There wasn’t a right idea, really.)
And if you weren’t careful, history was about to repeat itself because he’d just walked into the bathroom and got in the shower with only his towel and damp trunks and no underwear again. Only the idea to kick you out hadn’t occurred to him considering the fact that he’d shot your suggestion of leaving the room to give him some semblance of privacy down, and hadn’t given any hints as to how he’d actually get from a (wet from the shower) to b (dry and in clothes) when 60% of the steps needed for part b were under his bed.
Should you rush your makeup? You weren’t putting much on anyway, so you could make it quick if needs be. 
Or should you start to pull out his suitcase even though that would be a complete violation of privacy?
You swallowed, blinking at your reflection in the vanity mirror and continuing your work. He was an adult, he could figure it out for himself.
You’d just sprayed some perfume when the telltale realisation seemed to strike.
“Fuck.” You could hear him groan, the sound ricocheting off the tiled walls.
You smiled a little.
“Um—” he started, voice raised above the noise of the fan, and you took a few steps away from the dresser to the bathroom door to hear him clearer, “are you still there?”
You furrowed your brows at the hesitancy in his voice, “Yes?” 
There was a quiet pause for a moment, almost as though he was thinking about how to possibly go about manoeuvring his way around this little bump in the road, before:
“Please could you go into my suitcase and get me a pair of clean undies?” His voice sounded a little weaker, like it physically pained him to ask that of you, and because you’d anticipated what he’d need a little ahead of him asking it, you were already pulling the suitcase out from under his bed before he’d even finished asking his question.
“Yeah, where are they?” You shouted over your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you took in the chaotic and unorganised state of his suitcase. If you didn’t know better you’d have assumed he’d already rifled through there in panic mode because not a single thing was folded or placed in a manner that suggested related things were kept in one space, i.e. toiletries, underwear & socks etc.
No, it was all just one pile of bottles and cans and odd shoes and socks and crumpled undies that did have you wondering if they’d been picked straight from a packet or if he’d forgotten to do laundry and just fished them out of the basket in a mad dash. He probably had more caps than t-shirts, and his suitcase was barely a third full. In fact, the heaviest thing was a pair of weighted bracelets. What he’d need those for had you stumped because 1KG to Tyson, let alone any hockey player, was not enough to maintain their needed and current muscle mass whatsoever.
You were staring at the cacophony of random colour assortments (bless his soul) when his reply came through the crack in the door, “Anywhere, everywhere. Just take the nearest pair — huh,” you heard him chuckle softly to himself, “would you look at that? I’m a master rhymer.”
“You’re definitely something.” You mutter to yourself, pulling an amused face at the neon dinosaur undies you’d just dug out.
Those would do, you decided.
 “How do you want me to do this?” You asked, pausing at the door.
You weren’t about to walk in on him naked (although your skin did prickle at the thought — goddamn claustrophobia!) and you certainly—
“For starters, you’re not gonna dress me.” Tyson breathed a laugh, finishing your internal dialogue rather well.
“All you have to do is ask.”
The silence was deafening. 
You blamed the beachside margaritas. They’d probably gotten to your head (any buzz they created had worn off before the boys had even got back from their boat). 
Fuck.
Fuck.
Tyson wasn’t saying anything. In fact, he’d gone so quiet on the other side of the door that you wondered if he was still breathing.
You should have taken the hint, honestly. The flirty thing had dwindled massively since after the team dinner when he’d asked you to come here in the first place, and you had absolutely no clue where all of that just came from. You hadn’t even been thinking the words, they’d just flown out of your mouth before you could catch them and now you felt like an idiot holding Tyson’s dinosaur undies in your hand—
You didn’t remember when your eyes closed, but they flew open when the door creaked in front of you. You almost felt too ashamed to even lift your eyes to look at his face when it peaked through the gap, some steam billowing out as soon as he did so.
But Tyson wasn’t smiling, which instantly struck you as odd and almost had you apologising on the spot. 
If it weren’t for the look on his face. He’d always been pretty readable, he wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time, but now you couldn’t quite grasp what he was thinking. He was looking at you, but it felt like he was looking straight through you with the way his brows were slightly furrowed in consideration. He looked serious.
You started shaking your head, an apology on the tip of your tongue and cheeks aflame.
“I-I’ll keep that in mind.” He muttered softly, a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth until he reached his hand through the gap in the door, eyes still boring into yours. Your cheeks still felt hot, and you doubted he’d not notice considering the fact that there was barely five inches between you both, and his hand flexed.
Somehow, and with a lot of effort, you managed to string a couple of words together through the thick haze of your embarrassment, “You do that.” 
You placed his scrunched up undies in his waiting palm, and before you could say anything to incriminate yourself further, you turned your back, ears pricking when you heard the sound of the door shut behind you. You’d made it three steps to the bed when it occurred to you that what Tyson had told Mat might actually be true.
Only, there was barely another second to dwell too much on it before Tyson was strolling back into the bedroom, wearing only his neon dino undies and a distracting lack of anything else. 
Your brain seemed to lag slightly when it took in his slightly damp hair and defined chest. And shoulders. And arms. And your mouth only seemed to dry when your eyes briefly caught on the dark stripe of hair–
“You look nice.” He complimented offhandedly, dragging his towel through his hair one last time before throwing it on the bed and sending you a charming smile – it was a quieter smile than the ones he usually thrown your way, but given the rather awkward atmosphere you’d created, it wasn’t much of a shock.
“Thanks.” You returned the tight smile, turning back to the dresser and picking out some jewellery.
And all the while you were putting your earrings in, choosing a bracelet, rings and a necklace that Tyson assumed matched your dress, he couldn’t really take his eyes off you – as if he couldn’t already. He’d almost stubbed his toe on his suitcase when he got a look at your entire outfit because you wore it beautifully. And to top it all off, when you’d opened the bathroom door to pass him his undies, he’d gotten a whiff of your perfume in return for the steam, and he almost had to slam the door shut to deal with another little issue.
It had barely been twenty-four hours and you were already driving him crazy. On the boat, Mat had told him to grow a pair, but he didn’t know if he wanted to unless you gave him some indication of perhaps mutual feelings (as though Tyson would ever actually give you obvious hints). He thought maybe he’d misheard your little comment earlier, and he’d opened the door to just double-check, but that had just gone out of the window when he saw your red cheeks and lack of eye contact.
It could have been a hint, but it could have also just been a cheeky comment – and under no circumstances was Tyson ever going to get those two confused. Ever. You meant too much.
“That offer to help dress you still stands, you know?”
He blinked, and you were suddenly turning around to look at him. His fingers faltered on his shirt buttons and it took a second for his brain to understand what you’d just said because he’d sworn your mouth had moved but no sound had come out of it, and then his eyes drifted down.
He’d missed a button hole and his shirt wasn’t lining up.
He sighed, shaking his head and quickly unbuttoning to the mistake, “‘M starting to think I might have to take you up on it.”
You laughed softly, not bothering to say anything, and instead watched him from where you’d stood leant against the dresser, your arms crossed, as he focused on buttoning up properly. 
There were tons of good jokes floating around your head, but given the delicate situation you’d found yourselves in (there was no way it wasn’t delicate – the atmosphere in the room gave the impression that if you even so much as stepped on the wrong floorboard something would inevitably come to light), you’d opted out.
It never even crossed your mind to leave Tyson to finish getting ready and make your way downstairs with Toni and Mat. 
“You ready?” You asked, eyes taking in his outfit. 
It seemed very Mat-inspired, with a short-sleeved black linen shirt and baggier beige dress pants. He looked…hot, at the very least. And he smelt fucking insane, too.
He hummed, nodding, a cheeky smile on his face before he held his arms at his sides and spun on the spot.
“You look really good.” You breathed a laugh, not detecting a single hint of lies in your words.
“Yeah?” He mumbled shyly, and you nodded, making for the door.
“Yeah. Mat might faint at your feet when he sees you.” 
Tyson swallowed, feeling his cheeks redden at his own effort to hold himself back from asking just how ‘good’ you thought he looked. He didn’t care about what Mat thought, he’d seen him at some pretty tough points in life and vice versa, so if anything, he cared about Mat’s opinion on aesthetics the least.
“Well, that’s always my intention.” 
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Hey anon, I have screen-shotted your ask because I am going to try stay out of tag/term searches here, which in an of itself probably answers your question XD
So! Thoughts as they occur to me!
I did give the whole first season a watch. Partly out of giving it a chance, partly out of morbid curiosity, like when you can't look away from something awful happening in front of you even when you really want to close your eyes.
What I think is interesting actually, is that my main issues with the show have somewhat changed since I initially watched it. While watching it my only thoughts were "wrong, wrong, that never happened, wrong, wrong, wrong, look how they massacred my boy (gn), wrong!" And while those thoughts themselves haven't changed my main issues have changed to focus more on how it's such a badly structured story (the timelines feel both stretched and compressed in a way that doesn't add anything to the stories being told) and how I don't think it knows yet what it wants to be (it's Tolkien, but it's its own thing, but it's a 'prequel' in the very modern franchise sense of the word to the PJ films, but it's also not those films).
For the structure, I personally wouldn't have put two major stories into one show. I don't think there's the time for that. Both the Akallabêth and the creation of the rings exist as very sketchy narratives that cover extremely long timeframes. Original content was always going to be needed to fill the gaps. But by putting both tales into the one show, I feel they've doubled the amount of gap filling needed while halving the amount of screentime they have for it because there's now twice the amount of canon to cover (tbf, they don't seem to want canon so maybe that's not an issue for them...). To force them to run simultanously and then add original content that isn't just filling the gaps but appears to be completely original, you end up with a story that is both too empty and too full. Nothing is getting the time it deserves. Big moments feel undeserved or rushed. It takes the wind out of its own sails. (and that's without mentioning that these stories running alongside eachother just throws timelines and motivations out of whack, but I refuse to get us all bogged down in the minutiae of my grumblings!)
It's a pity, the story of the fall of Númenor and the creation of the rings have such good parallels, but that would require them to focus on things like religion and politics etc and they seem to be more interested in mystery boxes, so... oh well?
In regards the show's identity crisis, to be fair to them, that's really not that unusual in first seasons. They're not special XD Let's face it, how often have we all been recommended something that came with the caveat 'you need to get through the first few episodes/first season before it gets good and finds its feet'? Especially fantasy and sci-fi that has to establish facts about the world as well as characters in a way a drama set in the real world doesn't. I wouldn't be shocked to learn that the show hits its stride a bit better in later seasons.
However, my current biggest gripe with the show is what I'm seeing in the writers' attitude to storytelling. I can't stand it. The actor for a certain someone whose name begins with H didn't know who his character really was until after shooting the first few episodes. There's the back and forth of is it H or the guy who fell from the sky who'll turn out to be the villain. Sky man even gets some stalkers whose only purpose was to add confusion to this situation and then be immediately killed, no further context. One of the writers (I don't remember who) when asked about deviations from canon said something to the effect of 'we don't want book fans to be episodes ahead'. It's the modern Marvel school of story-telling. It's mystery boxes and twists and fears of spoilers and people knowing what's coming next. That's not how you tell a story. You need more substance than that. Big moments are only interesting if you've earned them with a well crafted lead up. And what's the point of a big moment if it adds nothing to the story in the first place. They had one of fantasy's most iconic villains, why was there a secret? The Second Age is where he's cracking out his most rediculous long cons. The man's twirling his mustache while kicking up his feet and writing 'evil' into every date in his diary for at least a millenium, what does a secret identity add to this story really?
Don't worry, I will move swiftly on from the topic of my boy who is not really my boy before we get in too deep... No one needs to hear that... But do you get my point? Big reveal. No substance.
To add a note of positivity, I actually really like Sky man's music. It's genuinely a really nice piece of music. I also liked that they wanted to add one of the 'original' orcs, that's a cool concept!
Oh! And whoever okayed those American 'stage-Irish' accents needs to be fired into the sun :D
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absentia-if · 11 months
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As much as I love K and wish to romance them I don't it's possible for my mc, she would not be angry, sadden is the right term but happy K found someone to help them through everything, happy someone was there for them even if it meant K moving on from her. In fact if canonly possible I think my mc would already know K moved on, hence why she wouldn't reach out to touch them, after talking for few minutes. I think my mc is very good at reading people who she knows, in this case k being her ex-spouse it make sense for me for her to know K moved on. But I think there is also a part of guilt for still wanting to reach out to K, to still be together, to work things out, but she wouldn't want to intrude in K current relationship. Staying friends with K would be hard not because she doesn't want to but the fear that she isn't looking for just friendship but more, and that's not fair for K in her mind.
“I thought you were dead! I mourned you! I grieved for you! You can’t come back after five years and act like nothing has changed for me! That’s not fair.” - K
I think if K were to tell her this it would just confirm her fear of getting close to k and romancing them, things changed, K changed, but i feel like for people in these types of situations like my Mc it's hard to admit your life will never be the same, that you were robbed of your time together with your loved ones and sadly it's time to move, slowly but to heal.
anyways don't mind my very long opinion and perspective on K view very excited to see how it plays out
That's completely understandable! However, I'd like to mention that K hasn't moved on from the MC. They're in the process of moving on from the MC. I made it that way because if K had truly moved on from the MC with Gabby, K wouldn't have been a romantic option to begin with. The situation as a whole is a complex one, and I'm super excited to explore it further. Both when it comes to the MCs interactions with K, their interactions with Gabby, and simply the interactions between K and Gabby. I'm also excited for the people who aren't romancing K to see how everything begins to work out with Gabby.
The quote, if it helps at all, is from a specific moment wherein there's an emotionally charged scene and the MC pushes K too far into a direction that they desperately don't wish to go into, and they sort of snap at you. It's not something that K would just randomly say out of the blue unless they felt strained/stressed emotionally. How the route is planned to go it's pretty black and white, at least when in regard to actively getting on it, when it comes to wishing to get back together with K or not. There won't be a bunch of will-they-won't-they (there will probably be some moments of it but it’s not going to be a main feature), because I don't think the situation needs the added angst of it, coupled with everything else that's going to happen, which is why I've mentioned in the past that you need to be 100% certain that you want to get back together with K because of certain choices that will have to be made.
At the end of the day, K completely understands if the MC doesn't wish to reach out to them, but they'd never wish for you to feel guilty if you were to do so. Gabby would honestly whack them upside the head if it's something they're too dense to notice is happening.
K just wants you to be happy, even if it's not with them, and if you're able to achieve that then everything has settled exactly the way it's supposed to.
I can't wait for you to witness how everything plays out in the end!
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characcoon · 1 year
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MORE discarded concepts!
On the 1st anniversary of "Change of Perspective", I asked you guys what you'd like too see as extra content, and you chose discarded concepts. And now on the 2nd anniversary, MORE discarded concepts, mostly from chapter 14 to 20.
So let's get right into it!
1. The Puppeteer phase 2
Most of the concept sketches I released prior to the chapter, had Mikey as the center piece. (Yes it's the same Mikey sketch shhhh)
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In the final chapter, he only got controlled Once. But the plan was for it to be much more important than one final horrifying blow. His fear at that moment, of being put against his brothers, would've been 100% thrown back at him at full force.
2. Leo VS Donnie
The resolution to That Whole Ordeal with Leo and Donnie, was going to be sort of like Raph planned in chapter 19.
It was going to be a Physical Fight. The first instance I thought of was during a sparring/training session that Leo, blind and lost in another hurricane of horrible thoughts, pulled Donnie aside, gave him a wooden sword, got another one for himself, and didnt even explain stuff before attacking him.
It was about the sword fighting specifically. Leo was in fear that he was losing his abilities, because of the muscle memory, and that he wasnt as good at it as he usually is. And the evil side of the thoughts were telling him that now Donnie was taking over his role completely in every way.
So he would fight Donnie, both with wooden swords, and Donnie would win, without even putting that much effort (because Leo was honestly too stressed to fight well). And Leo would not give up, would not stop, until he finally whacked Donnie in the hand and disarmed him, winning the fight. And once Leo won, the dam would break, and their talk would happen right there.
It would end well, as well, but it would be much uglier and raw than the final chapter. It would be less about Leo's effort to change being validated, and more about his fear of losing what makes him, him.
I think the reason I changed this approach was, the different tone it would set on the work. I think the final product has a much better message, and a much better resolution, than having the twins go at it in a fist fight, because Donnie's pain would be pushed aside in favor of that action show. Leo's acknowledge that, "hey, that guy wearing my face, the guy I'm cursing and yelling at? That's my brother and I am hurting him", is SO much better than "I am hurt and I'll make everyone know that."
It's not just about him, ya know.
3. Flare and Sparkles
One of these guys is not like the other.
So, Flare is the fireball in Mikey's old weapon that went "I ain't dying yet chump" and hopped into Mikey when the Shredder destroyed their weapon vessel. We got that.
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Sparkles... wasn't supposed to exist. There is no demon in the Odachi. It makes no sense.
Y'see, I have another AU, "Sentient Ninpos", that has another Flare that is NOT the kusarifundo fireball. And uuuhhh I kinda mixed both of them. Sparkles was already a thing in the AU, and as I was in the initial stages of creating the AU at the same time I was writing that chapter of Leo meeting Flare, and then Sparkles.
I just mixed both concepts and put Sparkles in CoP by accident.
Awkward, I know, but hey, congrats on CoP Sparkles for being something completely new created by mistake that now I gotta think hard about to make it make sense.
4. Sparkles' name was going to be Sparky
Sparkles' name was going to be Sparky.
5. More of VS Puppeteer
That entire fight went through multiple reworks.
First, Donnie was going to be awake, and as said before, Mikey would be prominently controlled. DONNIE would be the one to "break the sky" and get Leo's ability to teleport for a while (which I'm sure would've worked wonders with what I had planned for Leo's self-worth issues /s). There would be no phase 3, they would've exploded the Puppeteer in a much more dramatic and tense way, and that would be it.
I wrote that phase 2 chapter practically in one sitting, so whatever happened there, it was due to the flow and being on the zone and letting the vibes drive the writing. It went that way, and I said well okay then I'm not rewriting 9k words of nonstop fighting and action scenes, and left it as that.
6. Ending of chapter 20
I had that chapter ready for a week or so. Now, if ya know me, I post stuff as soon as it's done, I dont keep things to wait to post. So that week of waiting I spent constantly poking around chapter 20, and I changed the entire ending of it one day before posting.
Donnie would make no deal to stop talking about personal issues and focus on the artifact. He would've bounced right the fuck out of there and go "I'm not processing that entire emotional show, I'm gonna go out and kick people in the face to avoid thinking about what just happened". And that would've gone as well as it sounds: horribly.
Leo and Mikey would have an extra segment of talk about Sparkles and Flare, Leo going "ok we dont know if my Odachi had a demon, but I can ask Magnus because he has the twin of the sword to make sure that there is really no demon" vine boom sound effect, Mikey goes HUH WHU PARDON ME WHAT and credits roll.
I am once again pushing Magnus reveal further and further away. No regrets, it's great to look at how they all know the same thing but they dont know the others know.
----
And that's... basically it! ONCE AGAIN, ty for all the support! Hope you enjoyed taking a glimpse at the inner workings of my brain, and how I think over stuff. It's fun over here.
See you guys next chapter!
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patb-goose · 3 months
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MERMAY 2023 ~Brinky fic
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Brain comes up with a flawless plan to secure an asset from a facility surrounded by water. Become a fish! Unfortunately, before the mission can even begin, Pinky’s impulses set it off too early! My silly contribution to Mermay 2023
AO3
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Brain’s plan was complete. Or it would be. The conception was flawless. His machine designs finished and a confident certainty that this would be the plan that would finally help him take over the world successfully. He was explaining all of this to Pinky, using a pointer on his freshly scrawled chalkboard which showed many drawings and equations.
“Fish?” Pinky asked in surprised confusion.
“Yes. Exactly right, Pinky. We shall become fish!” Brain exclaimed, tapping on the board. Pinky looked unsure and his expression appeared as if he was wondering if Brain had lost his marbles. Brain grabbed his arm and aimed to assure him they were all intact. He pulled him closer to his notes,“Our goal is to infiltrate Disuniters Industries—” He pointed at a nearby photograph of the building.“ —to procure their new, highly advanced microchip that I can modify for my own purposes”
“Oh, we don’t have to do that. Narf! Ive just done the shopping! Theres a big ol’ can of Pringles with your name on it! Saved you the trouble.” Pinky looked particularly proud.
Brain hated to deflate him when he was trying to be ‘helpful’ “…Yes. Unforunately, what I seek is slightly less sodium based..” He stepped away from him to pull out a blueprint, “Behold!” It took a few moments but Pinky finally seemed to understand they wouldn’t be eating this chip.
“Oooh…” Pinky admired.
“It wasnt easy but I managed to hack into their database and find the blueprints.”
“Egad. Amazing!” Pinky replied before frowning with second thoughts , “But wait, wait. If you have these, couldn’t you just make your own fancy chip thingy?”
A valid question.
“I could…if these were complete. The materials used to make such an incredible advancement have been redacted, and at a guess won’t be readily available to your common man…or mouse.” They had taken many security measures, but this wouldnt hinder Brain. He rolled up the print and set it aside. “Now let me finish." 
Pinky zipped his lip as Brain went on about how remote the location was and how this was a roadblock. "The only access is by water. They get in regular shipments of supplies by boat, but other than that, nothing gets in or out without security say so.”
“That’s a problem, then, isn’t it?” Pinky observed.
“Fear not, for I have found the smallest of weaknesses in their defense.” He lured Pinky over to a nearby wall where he had laid out schematics. He followed without word. “You see, there is a grate far underneath the building. A complicated access for a mouse, yes. But no problem for a…” He waved a hand, giving Pinky a chance to come to the same conclusion he had. 
“..a …pencil sharpener…?”
“Yes… Thank you for reminding me…” Brain said, walking nonchalantly over to a nearby pencil and then used it to whack Pinky on the head. “A fish, Pinky. A. Fish.”
Pinky danced dizzily around, his eyes crossed as tried to maintain proper balance. He giggled. “Right. That was my next guess!” He fell into a sitting position and when his vision finally refocused, he saw Brain pulling a cloth off his invention. 
He was immediately interested. Brain could tell, so he continued..
“This remote is the key to completing this mission.” Brain told him. Pinky asked how it worked with eagerness and Brain was glad to answer in detail. “This button here activates the device and this dial here—"Brain moved it around in demonstration— "controls how long the effects will last.” He slid it back and explained that the lowest setting was ten minutes and the highest being eight hours. “Simple.”
In retrospect, Brain wished he had kept his new device out of Pinky’s reach, knowing his affinity for buttons. Normally, he had the sense to slap Pinky’s reach away before he could touch anything he wasn’t supposed to but this time he wasn’t quick enough.
“You mean all you have to do is press this button here and—”Pinky had said, his finger ending up much closer to the activation button than intended and pressed it before realizing his mistake.
“Pinky, wait! Don’t—” was the extent of the pleas he managed to get out before he was silenced by a beam of light emitted from his remote.
It was too late to stop him
“Poit..” Pinky mumbled regrettably as the light and smoke from the beam cleared. He knew he was in for another bop. But his frown disappeared once he got a proper view at Brain. His eyes great two sizes in excitement as he gasped.
“Pinky! Look at what you’ve done!” He lectured.
Brain appeared much less enthused. 
Not to mention different.
He hadn’t exactly made the transformation he described to Pinky. Not completely anyway.
“Fishie Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, his friend’s irritation overlooked because he was too distracted by his new form. From the waist up, Brain had remained unchanged but below he had a scaly, green tail that swished around on the counter.  Pinky opened his arms wide  “You're—You’re a mermouse! Troz!” He hopped, switching from foot to foot before proceeding to examine him from all sides. Pinky then knelt down played with his fin because he couldn’t help himself and exclaimed "Look at your tail, it’s all ziggy zaggy. Just like your regular tail!”
Brain’s eyes widened, lightly blushing and he slapped him with it before claiming his replacement tail. “Pinky. Stop that! It’s very sensitive” He demanded Pinky bring his remote, so he could double check what the dial had been at during activation. He knew. He knew he knew, but he had a small hope that miraculously it had been at the ten minute mark. He was mentally begging.
But, no.
…Eight hours.
He would be stuck like this for eight hours.
He gave Pinky another scolding, but it was hard to do with him looking at him with so much adoration. So, he let it go for now and gave him orders to fill up the sink. If he was going to be stuck like this for an extended amount of time, he would need to spend it close to the water. He supposed one silver lining was he could test out this form before their plan. Hmm…Now that he thought about it, that really was something should have thought to add to the list of preparations. He wouldn’t have even pondered it were it not for Pinky’s blunder.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t still annoyed with his friend.
This was still inconvenient.
 As the time passed, however, the feeling eventually fizzled. It did nothing to dwell, even if he was frustrated that they would not be able to make any actual progress until at least tomorrow night. 
He swam along the length of the sink and back again. It was quite the feat. A sink was like a swimming pool to a mouse, so it was great exercise. Not that Brain regularly indulged in such activities, but he had to admit there was something…freeing about it. 
He caught Pinky watching him and cheering on his moves with several claps. He pretended not to notice, but swam over to him regardless.
Pinky had his legs over the rim of the sink and kicked his feet, which just barely grazed the water. He made a few alternating splashes with his movement. His grin widened as Brain reached him. “You make such a splendid fishie, Brain!” Pinky praised. “You look so graceful out there on the open waves.”
“Pinky. I’m in a sink. There are no waves..”
“There can be!” Pinky exclaimed, then moved ever so slightly to let his legs have more access to the water and began kicking wildly with a laugh that matched his actions.
Brain swayed a bit but mostly he just got unwanted splashes in the face, which was more than a little irritating. He shielded himself until he was able to get close enough to grab both of his ankles. “Cease!”
Pinky did and once he got confirmation that he wouldn’t do it again, he let go.
“Hey, Brain. I was thinking about your plan…” Pinky started up a few minutes later. He idly moved his feet but not enough to bother Brain, “and you know, I’m a real good swimmer! I bet I wouldn’t even need your fishie powers! Narf!” He stood up and grabbed a sponge, tossing it in the water beside him. He jumped on top, arms out to maintain his balance, “I can also hold my breath for a reeeally long time!” 
Brain watched him move around for a moment before replying, “…That’s only because you forget to exhale…” He tripped him up before Pinky could demonstrate this skill and he fell into a sitting position atop his floating cushion. “Besides, where we’re going, your really long would look really short. This form is indeed necessary. With the only other entry being for delivery hand-off’s, this is the optimal solution to get inside.”
“Won’t your microchip get wet on the way out? Nobody likes a soggy chip! Zort! If you don’t get that satisfying crunch, the magic is just gone, isn’t it?”
Brain ignored his stupidity for the moment. “..Obviously, we would find an alternate escape route.”
“And then back to the boat!” Pinky concluded suddenly.
“Precisely.” Brain replied. It was a smart idea. As long as they got what they needed within an ideal timeframe—before it sailed away. Pinky wasn’t wrong. Swimming all the way back to ACME Labs without damaging his prize didn’t sound feasible…
Pinky paused. The mentioning of the delivery boat made him think. He tapped his cheek with a finger “Say….Wouldn’t it make more sense to just stow away in one of the boxes?” He blinked a few times at the other mouse as he awaited his response. 
Brain’s eyes widened and then his face scrunched up because once again Pinky wasn’t wrong. He tried to think of a good enough reason why they wouldn’t be doing his much less complicated suggestion, but there honestly was nothing. 
“Brain…?”
Brain held out a little longer. Then, with a pout and a few grumbles, he finally replied. “…I had the technology. I wanted to use it.” It would have been a shame to let it go to waste.
The was a pause and a long look from Pinky before he asked, “Does this have anything to do with us watching The Little Mermaid the other night?”
Brain’s face fell and at first he was defensive and in denial of such a silly accusation but in the end, he couldn’t lie. He bashfully admitted the truth, “…I may have been mildly influenced..”
Pinky had a fit upon his admission and all Brain could do was sit there, propped against his sponge as he worked through his excitement. Brain could barely understand a word of it anyhow with how fast he was rambling.
“Narf! Does that mean you want to be part of my world?” Pinky asked with romantic inflection, leaning in close with clasped hands and dreamy eyes.
Brain growled and yanked him over the edge, causing him to fall into the water with a splash to hush him up. He swam off before he recovered so he wouldn’t see his flushing cheeks.
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gffa · 2 years
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genuine question. what do you like about the mortis arc and how did you make it make sense? I don't dislike it but it just confuses me so much? I don't understand it. Could you please enlighten me a bit on what the point of it is and why it's good, if you have time?
I think the Mortis arc makes a lot more sense if you view it through the lens of "the Force is trying to get Anakin Skywalker to face his own feelings and his own dark side, via the Mortis Overlords playing out the conflict within him".
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The role of the Chosen One doesn't actually have much significance within the movies and TCW, the characters almost never remark on it, the movies don't center their story on it, either as a thing that manifests or the way it affects Anakin's life, it's almost completely not there. But it is still part of the landscape and I think the Mortis arc is one of the places it manifests, given that the planet is the Force. And what do Force-heavy places like to do? Judging by Ilum, Dagobah, Ahch-To, etc., it likes to throw tests at Jedi to get them to face the parts of themselves that are hard to face.
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From my big long meta about this: “Qui-Gon’s words aren’t just ‘bring balance to the Force’, but specifically this is indicated to be done through facing his demons will he save the universe. “Anakin, sliding right by that point, asks if he should just kill the Son or just leave?  And Qui-Gon’s answer is that Anakin’s not looking at this in the right way, that there’s another way to deal with this and it’s exactly the one that the Jedi have been teaching for as long as we’ve known them, that the Force has constantly been throwing into the paths of the Jedi, because it’s so necessary to becoming a Jedi:  Face the dark parts of you and work past them. “This is why Qui-Gon’s words are so important–it’s not just that this is an echo of Empire Strikes Back where Luke has to face the inner demon of the specter of Darth Vader (it wasn’t an external threat in that cave on Dagobah, that was all about ‘what you bring with you’, as Yoda says, that was all about Luke’s fears surrounding him), that it’s not just that Qui-Gon says Anakin has to go to a place strong in the dark side but he has to remember his training. “Qui-Gon’s ghost visited Obi-Wan earlier, asking, ‘Have you trained the boy as I asked?’  And now he says, ‘Remember your training.’ because this is what Jedi do, this is what they train themselves for, and why Qui-Gon says it to Anakin here.  This is what you’ve been taught to do–go to the dark place and face your demon.  That’s the Force, that’s how it works. “And further to that, how the Force works, how Star Wars works, is that it’s about choice in those moments.  When you’re at the crossroads, it has to be your own choice.  You can ask others for advice and guidance, those things can be incredibly important, but at the end of the day, Star Wars is about ‘only Anakin can choose’.“
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So many of the big, thematic moments of the arc are about Anakin having to let go of the negative emotions he has within him, that he has to face the darkness within him, that he’s meant to remember his Jedi training to face his demons and save the galaxy, as Qui-Gon’s ghost says:
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The Mortis arc is basically the Force putting on a play that’s designed to whack Anakin Skywalker with a rolled up newspaper to get him to pay attention to his training and face the uncomfortable parts of himself so that he can bring balance to the Force. Anakin, however, just cannot do that, he doesn’t want to accept Jedi philosophy when it comes to himself, when it comes to the moments that really scare him, and this arc is playing that out in miniature form, as well.  It wasn’t just one bad day that Anakin had in Revenge of the Sith, but that his fears ate him time and again, because he couldn’t face himself and his fears.
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crinkled-emotions · 1 year
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I love your fics so much!! They are the perfect combo of whump and angst. And honestly, in my opinion each one is 100 times better when paired with the other😂
So I was thinking..we all know Rooster would want Mav to stay with him if he got sick or hurt, but what about Mav wanting to stay with Roo. Like he actually HAS to be there all through the night or waves of guilt come back for all the times he wasn't there over the years. He's afraid to sleep and wants to be as close to Roo as possible, literally camping out next to him as he recovers. And when Rooster gets really bad, Mav moves onto the bed next to him just so he can make sure he can hear each breath and see that Rooster is in fact still there and alive. The Daggers find them like this one morning and just swoon at the cuteness, not realising the gravity of the situation. And then a resounding Oh Shit hits them when they find out what's going on and get SO upset seeing how vulnerable the two are🥺
Hey anon!! Thanks for your kind words! I've been having a bit of a shit week so I held on to this for a little longer. Hope that's okay!
After losing Rooster to his own actions (which were completely understandable when you know the whole story, by the way) it makes sense that when he gets really sick or hurt, Maverick probably wants to hang around, make sure Bradley's okay, but also to make sure he isn't going anywhere. As much as Rooster has lost those he's loved, so has Maverick and I think it would definitely show at times like this when they're both vulnerable.
Presenting... a fic with these feels. *glares at wip spreadsheet* yes I'm aware I have other shit to do. I would rather do this right now.
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"Mav, I'm okay," Rooster whispered, voice hoarse and it was obvious it hurt to move. He winced, grimacing as he rolled on to his stomach.
"I know you're okay kid, but I really think I should keep an eye out. We don't want a repeat of ‘98, do we?" Maverick replied as he moved around the room, shutting blinds and starting the fan in the corner of the room. Bradley always slept hot as a kid and it was no different now, only made worse by the fever he was sporting.
"Mav, c'mon, I was sixteen."
He winced again, apparently stuck in a cramp.
"God, I wish I was sixteen again," he muttered. His head shot up, and he cleared his throat.
"Mav, I didn't mean-"
"-I know kiddo. C'mon, if you're so okay you can't lie like that. You know what sleeping on your stomach does to you."
Bradley made a noise of complaint but shifted on to his side after a minute.
"Mav?"
"Hm?"
"You're not going anywhere... right?"
"That's right, I already called us out. If you want to be alone, though-"
"-no! No, I don't- please don't leave."
Maverick's eyes softened, sighing as he closed Rooster's bedroom door.
"Okay, I'm right here. What do you feel right now?"
"Everything hurts," Rooster complained. It was a very rapid turnaround from his earlier insisting that he was okay.
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you eject. It's lucky you didn't break something."
"I did," Rooster mumbled, "my pride. And my ass, remember?"
"Sorry Roo, I didn't want to assume it would be okay to talk about it. Butt, I'm glad you feel comfortable to share the pain."
"Mav," Rooster huffed, but his shoulders were shaking. He was laughing.
Maverick knelt by the bed, brushing a hand through Rooster's curls.
"Try to get some sleep."
-
Maverick stirred when he heard a whimper, frowning as he scrubbed at his eyes. Glancing at his phone he saw it was 11pm- Bradley would have only just gone to sleep any other day but the ejection had wiped him out. The whimper echoed in the silent room and Maverick got up, making his way to the side of Rooster’s bed. His face was pinched tight, in pain or fear, and he shifted uneasily in his dreams.
“Bradley,” Maverick started softly, frowning when he put his hand on his shoulder. Rooster’s hand shot out to whack Maverick away but he caught it just in time, pressing it to his chest.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just a dream, kid.”
Rooster cried out, eyes finally finding Maverick’s in the dark.
“Are you with me?” Maverick asked him. Bradley sniffed, shaking his head. His eyes were completely unfocused, but he seemed to recognise who was standing by his bed.
“Mav? What are you doing here? Where’s mom?”
There it was.
“Uh... she- she had to step out for a minute, okay? I promised her I’d watch you. She was real worried about you.”
That much was true.
“Oh.”
Bradley winced, scrubbing at his eyes again.
“Mav?”
“Yeah, kid?”
He wasn’t a kid anymore, but the way his brown eyes looked up at Mav- he was fifteen again, watching his mom lose every sense of herself to her disease and there was nothing Maverick could have done. Sighing, Maverick took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“How about you close your eyes, huh? Go back to sleep, it’ll be okay when you wake up.”
“You’re still gonna be here, right?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Bradley.”
-
To everyone’s surprise, it was Fanboy who cracked the shits at breakfast the next morning.
“Okay, guys, we gotta go see if they’re okay. No one has heard anything, not even Rooster’s favourite over there.”
“Do you want to still have your dick attached?” Phoenix threatened in retaliation. Bob winced, sitting next to her. Fanboy raised his hands in surrender.
“Steady! Geez. Uh, so... where would he be if he’s not at the infirmary?”
“Mav’s,” Hangman said through a mouthful of bacon. When everyone stared at him he finished his bite and put his fork down.
“C’mon, guys, y’all saw Mav’s face when Roo’s plane went down and you know how Goose died. It all makes sense.”
“Has anyone asked Cyclone where Mav is?” Bob suggested. He’d scooted away from Phoenix slightly just in case.
“If we don’t know, there’s no way Cyclone will.”
“Yeah? Okay Hangman, who would Maverick call if he was taking today off?”
“Guys none of us are on today; let’s go check on them. The least we can do is bring by some milk.”
“Let’s go,” Coyote agreed with Payback, everyone abandoning their breakfast.
-
“Hey, Rooster? Are you here?”
Bob knocked on the front door, listening for any signs of life. Frowning when there was nothing he put his ear to the door.
“Scoot.”
Phoenix elbowed Bob, digging in the pot plant by the door for half a second before she produced a key.
“Really? Who else knew that was there?” Hangman huffed.
“Me,” everyone replied. Hangman scowled ever so slightly.
“C’mon, me and Bob will go upstairs. You guys do a sweep of the living area and the kitchen. Check the back porch too; I found Rooster asleep out there once and I think I scared the shit out of him.”
Phoenix took charge, taking Bob’s wrist and he dutifully followed his pilot. Hangman opened his mouth to make a comment but Coyote quickly whacked his arm.
“Forget it. C’mon, we can check the back deck.”
-
“Rooster? Hey, Br-”
Phoenix stopped dead in the doorway, Bob accidentally walking into her but righting himself at the last second.
“Look,” she whispered. Bob glanced up, eyes widening.
“Uh-?”
"Oh my god.”
They finally saw the extent of the ejection injuries on Rooster’s chest and shoulders, considering he was passed out against Maverick’s side. Maverick was sitting up in bed, eyes closed. It didn’t look comfortable.
“Should we move them?” Bob whispered. Phoenix frantically shook her head.
“No way, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bradley that peaceful.”
“I thought he broke his ass.”
“He did, and I’m sure he’ll regret the way he’s sleeping later, but for now...”
Phoenix sighed, glancing at the way her best friend instinctively searched for his father in his sleep.
“For now I think we should get everyone else out. Hangman would never let Rooster live this down.”
“I thought they were close in flight school?”
“Oh, that’s a story for another time.”
-
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suckerpunchfemale · 1 year
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Chapter Twenty Four Below!!
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Also on AO3 & Wattpad
Taglist: @andramoreaux
"Wait, wait," Aesira said through gritted teeth, hastily retying Aemond's half updo.
"Better?" Aemond huffed, his hand hovering on the door of the Royal Wheelhouse. She knew it was their own fault. Well, Aemond's more than hers. It had been his idea to crawl under her skirts and feast on her while they rode for the Sept.
Aesira scrunched her nose, hoping neither of them reeked of sex. She laughed softly as she finished righting the mess his hair had been, "The style becomes you well, but I do have my preferences and it definitely isn't the updo."
He swung the door open with ease and stepped out on the cobblestone street before holding out his arm to her, "I'm sure you do, my Lady, my love.."
Aesira blushed as she curled her fingers around his forearm, using the grip to aid her as she stepped out of the Wheelhouse. They'd chosen, for the extra time, it allowed them, to be carted straight to the dragon gate. Though there would be no one to care for the Wheelhouse while they were inside the dragonpit, Aesira doubted anyone in King's Landing would be stupid enough to steal it.
Aesira kept a small space between them as they strode for the small gate that would lead to the arena, hoping the space would afford them a modicum of sense. Some small part of her feared that if anyone glanced at them, walking side by side, it would give away the new secrets they shared.
Aethan and Rana had journeyed alongside the wheelhouse, and as they neared the small door, the little boy skittered towards it and thrust it open for the approaching party. Aemond walked through first, then Aesira, and finally Aethan.
The air was musty, and heavy with sand. It was the smell that had her recoiling every time she visited the dragonpit. The smell of decaying meat and ash. The blackened walls along the hallway they treaded were coated in a thin layer of soot. Not that any of the dragons ever made it to that hallway, it was the smoke from their flames that did.
She could still feel the chill from the small door just feet behind them when Sanlow came into view. Aesira was fully prepared to yell at him for allowing this Archmaester near Sakaris but no sooner had she opened her mouth than a loud ROAR! rang through the corridor, bouncing off the soot-covered walls and quaking the sand-covered ground beneath them.
Aesira didn't wait for the quaking to stop or the roar to be silenced. She would recognise that roar anywhere. Taking off at a sprint, she barely hoisted her skirts from the floor in time. Vaguely aware of Aemond beside her, trying and failing to beat her to the arena, Aesira rounded the final corner and stopped, taking in the scene.
Sakaris was in the arena, still chained, and being prodded with many sticks while a dozen dragonkeepers commanded that the she-dragon calm down, that she find her peace.
Their words were loud but it was the man at the center of the group who court her attention. Dressed in red and gold robes, the short golden-haired man approached Sakaris with his hands raised. The blue dragon's snout was anchored to the ground as she fought desperately to pull herself free.
Aesira knew Sakaris wouldn't use her flame against them, not unless Aesira told her to. Never once had she thought those months of rigorous training would prove to be such a detriment. One blast of flame could have killed all of them, but it would have freed the dragon.
Aesira broke into a run again, her hair coming completely undone as the clips tumbled out of her hair. She yanked the prodding stick out of the hands of the dragonkeeper she'd come across first.
She jabbed him in the stomach, whacked him on his bald head, and then swept his feet out from under him. She whirled on the next one just as Aemond reached him, disarmed him, and shoved him to the floor as well.
Aesira tightened her grip on the prodding stick and took down two more dragonkeepers before she circled around the dragon, kicked out the chains that pinned her head to the ground, and then launched herself at the Archmaester. "What have you done to her?!"
"Nothing, my Lady." The Archmaester stepped back quickly to avoid being struck, "I wished only to acquaint myself with such a beautifully rare creature."
"She is claimed," Aesira heaved, holding the sharper end of the stick up to his face. Even his thick golden facial hair wouldn't save him, and she made the threat known. "She. Is. Claimed."
"That she is." He conceded with genuine fear in his grey eyes, lowering his hands and raised his chin instead.
Aesira's brows furrowed, the gesture looked familiar and then it lanced through her mind. The Archmaester had invoked an Old Valyrian custom, he was bearing his throat to his opponent after he yielded. By exposing his most vulnerable parts, he showed her that his yielding was genuine and without deception.
Aesira had forgotten about that, even as the memory of playing games with other children in Volantis came to mind, and it only ended when someone yielded. Aesira's eyes snapped to his as the Archmaester raised a brow, then plastered an enigmatic smile on his face.
There was something familiar about his grey eyes, about that smile—despite being half shrouded by the hair that grew over his lips—but it wasn't until she noticed the white streak at the crown of his forehead. Gold hair, grey eyes, knowledge of Valyrian customs—not just the spoken language—and the streak in his hair.
"Rhaevon." Aesira said foregoing any respect she should be showing him and tossed the prodding stick to the ground. "You're a long way from Volantis."
"You know him?" Aemond asked in the common tongue as he took a step closer to Aesira. She could hear Sakaris humming behind her as the dragon too moved closer.
"It's Archmaester Dayzthrax now," Rhaevon wriggled his brow, addressing her alone, "A name you could have carried had your father not chosen to forego my offer."
Aemond's face turned ashen white when Aesira said to him, "Archmaester Dayzthrax is one of the men my father tried to sell me to."
Rhaevon, ten years her senior, made no attempt to hide the lust in his eyes as he ran them over her, and the beast at her back. She recognised it in the same way he'd lusted after her when she'd been a girl of ten. As his gaze settled on hers, he smiled, "And what a shame it is that the deal fell through."
Aesira was not the weak little girl he'd seen all those years ago. She was a woman-grown, with a dragon that could level entire kingdoms if she so wished it. Aesira pursed her lips as she surveyed him from head to toe, and made an effort to appear as disappointed as possible before asking, "What lies have you spun King Viserys?"
"None," Rhaevon shrugged, picked up the discarded prodding stick, and handed it to a passing dragonkeeper, "The King sent an envoy out, searching for any maesters who might know anything about your special dragon and I responded. Ever since the beautiful Naerys landed in Volantis, some twenty years ago, with her oh-so-special dragon, I have been obsessed."
"Is that why you were always skulking around my home?" She snapped, as her rage from years of abuse burned through the disappointment. Aesira had left the life she'd burned to the ground back in Volantis, that life was never meant to follow her to Westeros, and certainly not after so many years had passed.
"I was in your father's home at his behest. He knew my specialty—my obsession—and wanted to know what I knew." Rhaevon shrugged, as his eyes flicked to her chest and then back to her face.
Unable to stomach his lingering glances any longer, Aesira turned to stroke her dragon's scaly face. If he was going to stare, then he could stare at her planeless back. As she stroked Sakaris' face, the humming grew louder and Aesira knew the dragon was trying to comfort her.
"It's a pity she doesn't remember me. I had hoped she would." Rhaevon said, referring to Sakaris. Aesira heard his voice grow louder but knew Aemond wouldn't let him get close enough to touch her, and for now, that was enough.
Sakaris, despite what Rhaevon thought, did remember him. She knew exactly who he was and hated him. "And what is it that you know, Rhaevon?"
"I know keeping her locked up in this stone box stunts more than her growth, it affects her abilities too." He softened his voice until the words were as gentle as a caress. "She needs to be allowed to roam the skies as she sees fit. And the control you exercise over her fire breathing...it needs to stop. This dragon needs to let it out, as often as you let out a scream to loosen your resolve."
Of course, he knew about her control. Sakaris' should have burned them all before Aesira ever made it to the dragonpit.
None of this was new to her. Sakaris was only kept in the cell when she was in King's Landing. And back on Dragonstone, there was a charred field reserved for her fire breath. It had been the field Aesira had used when she'd trained Sakaris to refrain from using her blue flame unless Aesira instructed her to. She had enough to deal with, she didn't need to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of their lives, wondering if someone would steal the dragon or chip away at her.
"So, nothing she doesn't already know." Aemond sighed, sounding more bored than anything else. Aesira could kiss him out of gratitude for his presence and his choice not to fade into the shadows as he usually did.
The rage Sakaris felt bled out into the void that separated her from Aesira, and in turn, Aesira let her anxiety and distrust bleed into the void. Less and less, she took her queues from the dragon but it filled her with pride that she still could.
Aesira turned to face Rhaevon and Aemond, who'd stepped between them at some point to stare down the Archmaester. From where she stood, Aesira could see that Aemond's hands were clasped against his lower back, unclenched. He wasn't angered, or filled with the same unbridled rage as her. Aemond had his thoughts collected and if it came down to a fight, she'd need that level-headedness.
"Aesira—"
"If you are to be called by your title, Archmaester Dayzthrax, then I will be addressed in kind. My station and blood afford me the title of Lady Aesira. Use it, will you?" Aesira cut him off. Rhaevon had thrust his title in their face like a peacock fluffing its feathers, to show off the life she could have had and incite envy of some kind. But Aesira wouldn't be baited into it. She was better off where she was now. Had she married him—been sold to him—she would have been with child, or many, by now and no titles of her own.
As it stood, she was a dragon rider, Ward to the Iron Throne's Heir, beloved niece of the King Viserys, and lover to his Second Son. She had more freedom and agency than she ever would have had beneath Rhaevon and everyone in the arena knew it.
"My Lady," Rhaevon bowed his head mockingly, then gestured to Sakaris, "Most dragons tend to slow in their speed as they age but yours will only get faster. From the length of her spikes and her obvious size, I would say she has reached her halfway point to the highest speed."
As it stood, Sakaris kept pace with Daemon's Caraxes. But halfway..."Her size too?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "Sakaris will grow like any other, but her speed—and other latent unique skills—will be fully realised by the turn of the next thirty years. She will not lose them as she grows larger."
"What unique skills?" She asked. If he said Sakaris' blue flame would turn white, Aesira would send him home. She'd thank the King for his generous gift of an educator but the man would be useless if he only told her things she already knew.
Rhaevon took a slow walk around Sakaris, his eyes glued to her feet and her claw-like hands at the ends of her wings. Aesira monitored him as he paused then crouched beneath the dragon, plucked a fallen scale from the sandy ground, and held it up for Aesira to view, "She sheds her scales in abundance, which I'm sure is no surprise to you. But you should collect them, they can be shaped—using her fire of course—and molded in many things."
"Like armour?" Aemond asked.
"Like armour." Rhaevon agreed then tossed the scale at Rana. Dusting his hands, he continued, "With some training, she could even turn stone into a gem."
Aesira raised a brow and Rhaevon bowed low, so she sighed, "Alright, you have my permission to work with Sakaris. But she remains unchained, and if she is irritated, annoyed, or bored, she will eat you. I also require a copy of everything you plan to do with her."
"I have already sent my texts to your Maester Norren for copying, it holds everything I know and have learned about the Blue-Breath dragons. It'll take a few days but the copy will be sent to you once it is complete." Rhaevon held a fist to his chest, an oath.
Aesira glanced at Sakaris, prepared to inform the dragon of the happenings to follow, and instead found the dragon sniffing Aemond. Despite having his back to the dragon, his expression told Aesira that he knew what happened behind his back.
Aesira slid between them, a stern look on her face as Sakaris reared her back before lowering her face to Aesira, "My beautiful, beautiful beast. Rhaevon, who smells of home in this unfamiliar land, is going to work with you today. Allow him close but if they harm you, use your fire and burn them to ash."
She repeated it twice, thrice, unaware of how well Sakaris actually understood her. Rhaevon would smell like home to the dragon. She'd lived in Volantis for almost forty years before she claimed Aesira. Her seven years in Westeros wouldn't hold a candle to the life she'd lived in Volantis with Naerys.
"To the Keep?" Aemond asked, peering over her shoulders towards Rhaevon as he spoke to the many dragonkeepers around him.
"Indeed," Aesira said, her eyes falling on Sanlow. "There's just one thing I need to do."
She strode across the arena and pulled the old dragonkeeper aside, "Sanlow, who allowed Archmaester Dayzthrax near my dragon?"
"I did, m'Lady. He was sent for by the King, and bore the King's seal. We did our best to accommodate his requests."
Aesira nodded, "Going forward, I care little for who the man is, whether he was sent for by a chambermaid or the Gods themselves, the next time any dragonkeeper allows a stranger near my dragon without my consent, I'll have her burn this sept to the ground, with all of you inside of it."
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rapifessor · 2 years
Text
Project 888 - Day 111
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So passes another day in the eternal grind that is slowly but surely improving my Genshin Impact characters. I used all the resin I condensed yesterday and some of what I had available today on the usual talent mats, but I also decided to deal with my weekly bosses a day early. This is so I can focus all of my resin on talents again tomorrow.
I’ve got a little more resin at my disposal this time around so I should be able to balance my counts again tomorrow. They’ve been thrown out of whack again lately, which I suppose is something inevitable. Due to the random nature of Eula’s crafting talent she can easily throw things off by producing extras for one material but not another.
I could stop grinding to craft every time I got enough materials to do so, but this would be needlessly tedious. It’ll make more sense when Project 888 is nearing completion and I want a little more fine-tuned control over my counts so I can try to get bonus materials and end grinding early.
Other than that, I did some experimenting with team comps to make Forsaken Rift a little easier for mobile play. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m traveling overseas with family in a couple of weeks, and I won’t be able to take my laptop with me. I might not be able to use my phone for Genshin either, but I wanted to prepare just in case I would be able to.
Here are my highly scientific findings...
“Just use three Pyro characters lol ez”
Yeah. So I found that a team consisting of Hu Tao, Bennett, and Xiangling is a pretty consistent and braindead way to waste this domain. Little bitch Cryo Slimes hopping away and spitting liquid helium in your face? Just clock that sucker with 100,000 Melt damage from a Pyronado and a Hu Tao Charged Attack. Getting mobbed by two shielded Cryo Slimes and a Cryo Abyss Mage? Drop a metric shit ton of Pyro app on them and SHOW THEM THE MEANING OF FEAR.
Sorry, got out of character for a bit there. The domain known as Forfucken Rift just inspires so many feelings of ire in the playerbase, so it’s understandable to want to show it who’s boss. Anyway, I’m hoping this team will make for a good solution to the issue that this domain poses for mobile users.
I should probably do this for other domains as well, as there is no one-size-fits-all solution to fast clears. I’m mostly looking for consistent strategies that are easy to execute and can clear the domain in a reasonable amount of time.
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dark-magical-ships · 2 years
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oooh, how about artisan keycap and switches???
Hello rainy!! ^.^ Thanks for playing hehehe :D
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artisan keycap - is there a part of your f/o’s personality that just completely stands out for any reason? if so, what is it? if not, talk about their personality and what you like about how they are!
This turned into a brief psychoanalysis of my fiancée and especially his canonical depiction, so. TL;DR: the thing that "completely stands out" for me is that Seto's core motivations that drive his actions are exactly the same as Yuugi's (NOT ATEM'S), and the only true differences between Yuugi and Seto are their philosophies on right vs wrong and the fact that Yuugi is aware of his motivations while Seto is not. I don't explain this as thoroughly as I'd like to in this essay but it's long enough already tbh. Maybe at some point I'll sit down and explore this topic in much more depth/do a better job of really explaining that as a thesis statement rather than a summary, but for now... oh well, enjoy what I have I guess lol. ANYWAY.
Honestly this a pretty good question for Seto, since, I mean.... this is Kaiba. Everything about him seems to "stand out" in one way or another; he stands in stark contrast to most of the rest of the cast, and he craves the spotlight so he makes it a point to stand out as much as possible a lot of the time. But being so openly and intentionally on display can be a kind of armor in and of itself, and there are parts to Seto's personality that absolutely stand out when you take the time to actually get to know him beyond that public image. The biggest difference is that with Seto, what stands out the most are the things he downplays or tries to hide, rather than the traits that are most obvious. Something that was subtly hinted at for him but never directly expressed in canon (especially in the dub) is how much Seto has internalized the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. He does not believe in things like objective good and evil, nor in the idea that there is a single correct way to do things. This idea, that morality is entirely subjective and therefore often not worth quibbling over, is what allows him to so easily flow between doing things like blackmailing small businesses into buying their shares back at ten times their value despite the obvious financial hardship this would inflict upon a whole group of people, to selling Duel Disks at a steep loss compared to their production cost and giving free admission to his parks to orphans for no other reason that to help underprivileged people. It's not that he has no sense of right and wrong—far, far from it—but he sees it the concept as being very fluid and subject to constant change based on circumstance and context. And when you're a man who's operating based on priorities as far out of whack as Seto's were at the time of canon, this fluid view of "good" vs "evil" makes some of the more fucked-up stuff he did at the time seem perfectly okay to do when seen through that lens. Try to kill a kid for beating you at a card game? Perfectly okay, considering that after he beat you the kid in question subjected you to repeated experiences of death by monster attack. The thing is, it's not his philosophy that stands out so much, but the fact that it is his very adherence to that philosophy that nearly causes him to lose sight of one of his own core motivations: his fear of winding up turning into Gozaburo. Which is incredibly ironic, because Nietzsche also warns that “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." Watching Kaiba at the beginning, with Death-T and the Exodia duel and such, is watching a kid who has twisted the belief in fluid morality to excuse his actions—first just because he was riding a power high (stealing the BEWD), and then in response to a traumatic experience. When Atem breaks his soul and makes him put the pieces back together, he comes back out of it with a renewed awareness of the need to avoid becoming like his father, and we see him act much more altruistically compared to his previous persona. But it's not enough. He backslides. Slowly, gradually, and in a different way, sure, but it happens. And if we accept that Kaiba Corporation's gradual buyout of Domino City and eventual experiments there—within city limits—created to the dystopian world where we find Fudo Yusei some thirty or forty years after Duel Monsters concludes, then we are forced to also accept that Kaiba Seto is also directly responsible for the sharp class divisions and general police state that New Domino has become. In fighting the monsters, he eventually becomes the very thing he was fighting. How does this happen in canon? What goes on behind the scenes in the years after DSoD, when he seemed to make such great progress toward healing and finding a new path? Was Mokuba's influence on his brother ultimately lost somehow, or was he actually somehow a corrupting force? Did Yuugi and the others give up on Seto? Or is everything that happened just an example of the road to hell being paved with good intentions? Obviously, this is not the path that Seto as I know him takes. Both of us were angry, disillusioned, traumatized teenagers balanced on the edge of a self-destructive spiral, and were largely held in check only by each other or by our relationships with other good influences in our lives. Over the last decade together, finding our footing as adults and learning to heal as much for each other as for our own sakes, we've both come a very long way and become very different people. My Seto would be appalled to see what his canonical counterpart allows to happen on his watch. And yet, the only obvious difference I can see between my Seto and canonical Kaiba is that my Seto had someone in his life who, 1) he cared about enough to change for, 2) actually demanded better of him when he needed it, and 3) never gave up on him. So what is it that stands out most about Kaiba Seto, both as I know him today and as he appears in canon? It is his desperately deep, absolute need for human connection, paired with his borderline phobic fear of that selfsame connection. This need is almost universal, of course; humans are pack animals and nearly everyone needs a certain level of connection with other humans just to stay sane. What makes this such a special point of interest for Seto is how it coexists with his fear of vulnerability. He sees his bonds to others as weaknesses that can be exploited, and so he pathologically avoids forging such bonds as hard as he possibly can. As a result, we have things like his obsession with Yuugi and especially Atem—the closest thing he has to a friend, who he cares about so strongly that he voluntarily associates with the former post-canon and, most notably, has an entire movie about how badly he handles losing the latter—which he insists on expressing only through hostility and his determination to finally beat them. What stands out is the incredible loneliness that absolutely radiates from his canonical story, and how very much happier he is now, as I know him, when he's finally grown past his fears and come to accept his friends and family, and I suppose even me, as not only a source of strength, but a fundamental part of his own wellbeing.
switches - describe your f/o’s voice in any way you’d like. if they have a canon voice, talk about how similar or different that is to how you imagine it!
Ahhh man I suck at describing sound lol. What's more, neither his Japanese nor English voice actors quite fit exactly how he sounds in my head... maybe if Eric Stuart were delivering his lines as if they were for sub!Kaiba, who is cold and aloof most of the time but generally pretty civil, rather than the delightful snark of dub!Kaiba, who sounds angry, irritated, or conceited like 90% of the time. In 4th Wall, fic!Amy specifies that Seto in her head doesn't sound quite like any of the actual voice actors that voice him, and that he has a baritone voice. She further notes that something about his voice reminds her of a Disney/Pixar voice actor, but she can't put her finger on who exactly he sounds like. That's because the closest approximation to a fancast I have for his voice is a young Jeremy Irons (for anyone somehow unfamiliar, the voice actor of Scar from The Lion King), or possibly Hugh Laurie (known for his role as Greg House, M.D., but also appeared in the live-action 101 Dalmatians). There are some adjustments to make to that baseline, though, to really get an idea of how he sounds to me. Take away about 90% of the accent (not all of it; I have this weird headcanon that Seto's English tutor was British and he has just a touch of RP that creeps into some of his vowels occasionally), raise the voice maybe half an octave or so, give him a habit of occasionally speaking a little too quickly and sometimes mispronouncing things because the rules of one of his other languages momentarily took over in his brain when he's worked up/emotionally. That kind of thing. I actually really love his canon voices in both English and Japanese, but over time he's just shifted to sound different in my head lol.
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smartmoneywoman · 7 months
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To-Do Lists: The Secret Weapon to Tackling Life's Chaos
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Do you feel overwhelmed by the chaos of life? The answer may be simpler than you think. To-do lists can be the secret weapon to gaining control over all of your tasks and increasing your productivity and focus. By breaking down your goals into manageable chunks, you can begin to tackle the chaos of life one step at a time. In this blog post, we will explore the many ways that to-do lists can help you stay on top of tasks and take control of your life.
1. To-do lists: the boring-but-necessary tool for adulting
To-do lists. Just hearing those words can make your eyes glaze over and your mind wander off to a faraway land where responsibilities don't exist. I get it, I really do. To-do lists can seem like the ultimate buzzkill, the party pooper of productivity. But let me tell you something – they are also the unsung heroes of adulting. Picture this: You wake up on a Saturday morning, ready to take on the world. You have a million things swirling around in your head – laundry, grocery shopping, paying bills, calling your mom (because guilt is a powerful motivator). It's enough to make you want to crawl back into bed and pretend responsibilities don't exist. But fear not, my friend, for the to-do list is here to save the day. With its organized, bullet-pointed goodness, it can transform even the most daunting tasks into manageable little nuggets of accomplishment. Suddenly, the chaos of life doesn't seem so overwhelming. You have a roadmap to guide you through the madness. So, embrace the to-do list. Embrace the joy of checking off each item, feeling the sweet satisfaction of progress. Because let's face it – adulting can be hard, but a good to-do list? It's like a superhero cape for your productivity. So grab a pen, start writing, and conquer the chaos, one task at a time.
2. Benefits of using a to-do list
Do you ever feel like life is a never-ending game of whack-a-mole, where tasks and responsibilities keep popping up faster than you can handle them? Well, my friend, that's where the humble to-do list comes in. It may seem like a simple tool, but let me tell you, the benefits of using a to-do list are nothing short of life-changing (okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but you get the point). First and foremost, a to-do list brings a sense of order and organization to the chaos of daily life. Instead of keeping a mental inventory of all the things you need to get done, you can simply jot them down on paper (or type them out on your fancy digital device). This not only helps to clear your mind but also ensures that nothing slips through the cracks. It's like having a personal assistant without actually having to pay someone to follow you around all day (although, that does sound kind of nice). Another major benefit of using a to-do list is the sheer satisfaction that comes from checking off completed tasks. There's just something incredibly gratifying about physically crossing an item off your list or clicking that little checkbox on your phone. It's like a tiny victory every time you complete a task, and those little victories add up to a major sense of accomplishment. And let's not forget the mental benefits. By writing down your tasks, you are essentially externalizing them, freeing up mental space to focus on more important things (like figuring out what to have for dinner or finally watching that Netflix show everyone's been talking about). Plus, studies have shown that writing things down helps to improve memory and increase overall cognitive function. So, by using a to-do list, you're not only getting things done, but you're also boosting your brain power. Talk about a win-win! So, whether you're a master multitasker or a professional procrastinator, a to-do list can be your secret weapon for taking control of your life. It brings order to the chaos, boosts productivity, and provides a sense of accomplishment. So grab a pen (or open your favorite list-making app), and start harnessing the power of the to-do list. Your future self will thank you.
3. How to create a to-do list that works for you
Creating a to-do list may sound like a simple task, but trust me, my friend, it's an art form. It's not just about scribbling down a bunch of tasks and hoping for the best. No, no, no. To create a to-do list that truly works for you, you must approach it with a strategic mindset (cue epic music). First, start by brainstorming all the tasks that need to be accomplished. Let your creativity flow and write them all down, no matter how big or small. This is your chance to unleash your inner list-making genius. Next, it's time to prioritize. Take a good, hard look at your list and determine which tasks are most important and urgent. You know, the ones that will haunt your dreams if you don't tackle them head-on. Put those at the top of your list and bask in the glory of your strategic thinking. But wait, there's more! Break down your tasks into smaller, more manageable steps. It's like deconstructing a giant mountain into tiny molehills. By doing this, you'll avoid feeling overwhelmed and actually make progress (imagine that!). And here's a pro tip: consider categorizing your tasks. Maybe you have work-related tasks, personal errands, and self-care activities. This way, you can tackle each category separately and feel like a multitasking superhero. Finally, be flexible. Life happens, and plans change. Embrace the chaos, my friend, and adjust your to-do list accordingly. After all, a to-do list is not a set-in-stone contract; it's a tool to help you stay organized and focused. So go forth, my fellow list-maker, and create a to-do list that works for you. And remember, in the battle against chaos, a well-crafted to-do list is your greatest ally. May the list-making gods be with you!
4. Prioritization: the key to a successful to-do list
Alright, my fellow list-makers, it's time to talk about the magical art of prioritization. Sure, you can jot down all your tasks on a to-do list, but if you don't prioritize them, you're just playing a game of task roulette. And let's be honest, you're more likely to win the lottery than complete all your tasks in a day. So, how do you prioritize like a pro? Well, it's simple (kind of). Start by identifying the most important tasks – you know, the ones that will make your life implode if left undone. These are the tasks that will have your boss breathing down your neck or your spouse giving you the death stare. Trust me, you want to tackle these bad boys head-on. Next, look at the tasks that will give you the most bang for your buck. These are the tasks that will make a significant impact or bring you the most satisfaction. It's like finding the hidden gems in a pile of rocks – they're worth the effort. And finally, don't forget about those tasks that have a looming deadline. Procrastinating might be your middle name, but trust me, it's a lot less stressful to tackle these tasks sooner rather than later. Plus, you'll have more time to binge-watch that new show on Netflix guilt-free. So, my friend, embrace the power of prioritization. It's the key to conquering your to-do list and taking control of your life. Remember, you're the captain of your own ship, and with a well-prioritized to-do list, you'll navigate those stormy seas like a true badass. Now go forth and conquer!
5. Tackling the tough tasks on your to-do list
Alright, my friend, it's time to face the music – those tough tasks that have been haunting your to-do list for far too long. We all have them – the tasks we keep pushing to the bottom of the list because, let's be honest, they're about as appealing as a cold cup of coffee. But fear not, my fellow task conqueror, for I have some tips to help you tackle even the most daunting of tasks. First things first, break it down. Sometimes the reason a task seems so overwhelming is because we're looking at the big picture. So instead of trying to swallow the whole elephant in one bite, break it down into bite-sized pieces. Whether it's writing a report or cleaning out the garage, tackle one section at a time and watch that sense of accomplishment grow with each step. Next, find your motivation. Maybe it's blasting your favorite pump-up playlist or bribing yourself with a delicious treat once the task is complete. Whatever it takes, find something that will make the task a little more enjoyable (or at least bearable). And finally, embrace the power of procrastination. Yes, you heard me right. Sometimes our best work comes from that last-minute burst of energy and panic. So don't be afraid to put off that task until the very last minute – just make sure you still have enough time to complete it. So go forth, my task-tackling warrior, and conquer those tough tasks with a smile on your face (or at least a begrudging acceptance). Remember, even the toughest tasks can be conquered one step at a time. And when you finally cross that task off your to-do list, you'll feel like the superhero of productivity. Now go forth and conquer!
6. Staying motivated and accountable with a to-do list
We've all been there – staring at our never-ending to-do lists, wondering how on earth we're going to find the motivation to tackle them all. It's like trying to climb Mount Everest with only a pair of flip-flops and a granola bar. But fear not, my fellow list-makers, for I have some tips to help you stay motivated and accountable with your to-do list. First, set realistic goals. Don't expect to conquer the world in a day. Break your tasks down into manageable chunks and give yourself a pat on the back for each little victory. Celebrate the small wins, like finally changing that lightbulb that's been flickering for weeks or making it through a whole hour without checking social media (a true feat, my friend). Next, find an accountability buddy. Share your to-do list with a friend or family member who will hold you to it. Let them give you a gentle nudge (or a swift kick in the rear) when you start slacking off. And hey, if they're really motivated, maybe they'll even join you in your productivity quest. Finally, reward yourself. Treat yourself to something special once you've completed a big task or reached a major milestone. It could be a decadent piece of chocolate, a luxurious bubble bath, or even a guilt-free Netflix binge. Whatever floats your boat and keeps you motivated. So my friend, embrace the power of motivation and accountability. Let your to-do list be your guide, and let your inner productivity superhero shine. With a little determination and a lot of laughter, you can conquer any task that comes your way. Now go forth, my motivated and accountable friend, and let the chaos of life tremble in your presence.
7. Avoiding common pitfalls when using a to-do list
Ah, the to-do list. The beacon of hope in a sea of chaos. But as with any great power, there are always pitfalls to watch out for. So, my fellow list-makers, let's talk about the common mistakes we must avoid when using a to-do list. First, let's address the never-ending list. You know, the one that seems to multiply faster than rabbits in spring. It's important to remember that your to-do list is not a never-ending abyss of tasks. It's a tool to help you stay organized and focused. So, avoid the temptation to add every little thing that crosses your mind. Be selective, my friend, and keep your list manageable. Next, let's talk about the danger of unrealistic expectations. Yes, we all want to be super productive, but trying to cram a week's worth of tasks into a single day is a recipe for disaster. Be kind to yourself and set realistic goals. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will your to-do list. And finally, beware the shiny distractions. We all know how tempting it is to check social media or dive into a Netflix marathon instead of tackling our tasks. But remember, my friend, the power of the to-do list lies in its ability to keep us focused. So, resist the allure of shiny distractions and stay true to your list. With these pitfalls in mind, my fellow list-makers, go forth and conquer the chaos of life. Embrace the power of the to-do list, and remember, you are the master of your own productivity. May the forces of focus and organization be with you! Related Topics Time Management: 15 Ways To Manage Your Time Effectively The Power Of Tracking Your Habits 10 Smart Ways To Invest In Yourself Read the full article
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floodgauthier52 · 1 year
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Hail Fellow, Well Met
The other day, I was in a mega mall - browsing a queue to purchase my groceries. Suddenly, there were lots of commotion as well as a group were attempting to prevent two of the mall staff from going at one another with knives slow. click was so palpable and I could sense a fear which they might even kill the other person, otherwise stopped. The situation was growing tense, when a rather senior-looking silver-haired Manager appeared to the picture. He gave a whack to both of them, ordered the crooks to get back to work and asked everyone else to disperse - everything in one swift motion. It was just as if he cast a spell - the staff slunk away, eyes downcast, respectful on the man as well as the tension just powered down.. We live in a world which is moving around. Information overdrive, intense competition and technological advances are earning newer challenges to the great art of conflict resolution. Our threshold to tolerate has vastly diminished. We keep hearing about road rage, unprovoked violence in public places life, harsh and violent body language in situations where it is not required in any way. There is a great deal of seething rage, anger, resentment and turmoil in a multitude of people, that when left unresolved, often manifests itself differently. It is like a box of ammunition with a short fuse and requires only a small spark to ignite. Consequences are often disastrous, whether it's the person who shot and killed several innocent people in a theater screening Batman or the fellow who went on a rampage on the Sikh Gurudwara in the United States. Alienation and loneliness coupled with despair and hopelessness can be a lethal cocktail of emotions. Recently there was clearly a news item in regards to a conflict between Management and Labour with a leading Automobile Manufacturing Plant in India. One of the General Managers was reported to own been killed - a really serious offense, following that your plant must be shut down temporarily. A very volatile situation with extremely low level of trust, emotional vulnerability, complete breakdown of transparency, lack of clear communication and insinuation. One can well imagine what could happen in this form of climate. I was reflecting that with regards to a decade ago, every company used to own Labour Welfare Officers and Personnel Managers who have been well-trained in Industrial Relations, studied the labour laws in great detail, cut their teeth into Human Resources Development with a long stint inside the production shop floor, developed keen insight and understanding, which in turn led to compassion and a flexible and tolerant take a look at life, which helped Management and Labour arrive at the discussion table. Suffice to state there is a lot of things which were mostly resolved through informal consultations and quite chats about the sidelines, no issue ever blowing up, unless it absolutely was something grave. These Labour Welfare Officers and Personnel Managers are now extinct, replaced by state-of-the-art professionals who have a very top-class B School Management Degree in Human Resources Development. They are extremely sound in tactics, strategies, presentations, negotiations, presence of mind and manouvering. However a careful study reveals, for the reason that devil is inside detail, they have scanty experience with handling labour or conflict management and resolution in a very decidedly win-win approach. A flash strike, a tool-down strike, lock-out or even an angry band of agitated workers are all nightmares for the children, as they are not equipped emotionally and their communication skills are awfully poor, exposing them inside rough and tumble of men and women management. While we all do concede that times have changed, we've got come very distant from days gone by and Managements less difficult more benevolent and transparent. Employee welfare could be the order during the day and not an exception. Having said this, I carry on and ponder whether it absolutely was wise to completely scrap far from those positions in manufacturing and service areas, which had its very own utility and relevance. Possibly the Labour Welfare Officers and Personnel Managers may stage a comeback, since the facts are it does not matter how much technology advances, processes improve, conditions congenial, individuals have emotions, fears, anxieties, hopes and expectations; machines and technology cannot be aware of it, while humans can. We need more humane people in dealing with Human Resources, as after all those are the greatest resources an enterprise has.
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jonathankatwhatever · 2 years
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I feel a bit like Dr. Strangelove, but I can now move my knee around and it crackles like heck but there’s no pain in that at all. It’s also generally gone at the typical pressure points. I’m sure it’s hiding in there somewhere, but this is a whacking great advance for me. I did a one-legged deep squat balanced on my toe, with no pain down and barely a twinge up. In fact, I realized I’m on the far side of the physical improvement process. That becomes in a visual fashion the approaching of a goal as a color exchange in which the color of the goal is now clearly the color. The other color has diminished. The other colors have diminished to reveal the true color of the End.
This works because the harder task is to connect the 2 Ends. That is, assuming the Start End has good 1Segment connections to the Between Ends, then the inversion of the Start End to the 4th End is included within the 1Segment which connects the Between Ends. Interesting. That answers a question: goal to goal means we’re Between. I’ve heard that many times, but it couldn’t make sense until now because now we have a mechanical process that generates ‘centers’ which stand for, which represent objects. An idea is a D4 existence attached to D3 existence. D3 existence is cumulative, meaning a complicated D3 existence is made of smaller D3 existences each of which is also in D4.
In that context, it’s a given that the existences interact. We just built a very basic model for awareness, meaning a model which states that D4 existences occur and these attach to D3 existences. Since the model accumulates, so does the D4 existence which models the larger D3 existence. And that makes a Triangular which encloses perspective, which encloses perspective, etc.
Interesting how well that works with SBE3+1: that is the dimensional scaling process. Isn’t that perfect? It isn’t just getting bigger or littler: it’s scaling dimensionally, which is why you can’t shrink a person to an ant’s size.
I have been hanging out today. Watched Royal Ascot. Can’t really see much in the way of tactics in a straight ahead race or one around a bit of a bend. Regular track racing has sections and positions around turns, so the placement through each stage, the spaces between horses, etc. shape the race differently. I’m sitting at Time Out, where it is crowded and loud, with the US Open in front of me. I enjoy Saturday pin placements. These are the qualifiers: make them work for the win. And it’s windy and the course is dry (though they can control that by how much they water overnight). Need to play well from off the green on days like this. Need to be good in the bunkers. And hope for good lies.
No feeling of stress. No feeling of fear, outside of a few little flashes. Decided to act natural. Take for granted that it’s cool. Chill for a bit.
Knew I wanted to solve the issue of D4 existences. This leverages into D4 existences which are a step away from D3. See how simple that got? I’m so easy to please in so many ways, but not about understanding. We can now say they’re a step away. That step is not simple, but it acts as a step because D4 existences are grid squares, and gs enclose references to D3 existences without themselves being D3 existences. Or, replace references with inversions: a grid square contains references to D3 existences.
Oh thank you! We finally got to the understanding of grid squares and how they relate to physical existence. And it’s really simple and completely obvious when you see it.
So, on the day after I experienced a huge increase in physical mobility, and on the day when I woke up thinking my body is to the point where I have to say it works, then I suddenly am much more fluent in dimensional concepts, to the point where I’m finally able to reach the answers for what seem to be the most fundamental issues in dimensional existence and how those translate in the 1-0Space model. I feel a sense of accomplishment.
Not sure what else is in me right now. Let’s see. I’m still confused about how high counts go. That is, I can see how D8 lead to D16, and then I see that D64 is D4 of D16, which just solved that problem too. That is the fundamental counting issue I’ve had in front of me since this began: we just accumulated existences so they can be treated as fCM. That puts patterns into everything, sometimes in obvious ways, but generally through CM100, which is now the perfect name for what it does. Think about that: CM100 equates CM64 + CM36, which can also of course be CM36 + CM28 + CM36, presented in that order to indicate that CM28 bridges both as a 1-0Segment, which locates the parentheses as (CM36 + (CM28) + CM36), which is a familiar attachment form. That happens because Attachment Theory describes that 1-0Segment. I know I left off the second half of that sentence. CM100 equates CM64 + CM36 to CM10squared. Now we understand that CM10 counts dimensional scaling. So, CM100 is literally the square of dimensional scaling.
And that answers the CM2.8 issue which has always bugged us: it scales the dimensions smaller, which means the effect is reducing or receding as we tried to say before we could use dimensional terminology. That is, we now know what is being scaled and that works!
The square of dimensional scaling then resolves to the old concept of that which Is and that which Is Not. A decision? A choice? It all fits together when you recognize that this process connects Ends. Think about that. I’m typing and sometimes I have no idea what I’ve just said. Connects Ends. Like goals or other abstractions which are D4 existences shared within the larger D4 space. It’s the ultimate ranking system once you can see it. Talk about orderings!
I’m running out of the ability to use words. It’s very loud here and I’m over-stimulated. This has been absolutely magnificent!!
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justthatspiffy · 3 years
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Montana mountains are ridiculous and dangerous because they look mostly not steep but that is an illusion they're very steep and have cliffs where you don't expect
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sukirichi · 3 years
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happy little accidents
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— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.
REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi
CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu
NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO
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Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.
His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.
But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.
Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.
“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”
“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”
Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.
He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.
Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.
“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”
You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.
“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”
“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”
You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”
He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.
And there it is.
The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.
“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”
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It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.
You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.
Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.
She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.
Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.
Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.
Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.
Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.
Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”
“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”
“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”
Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”
“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”
“I could see why.”
Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”
“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”
“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”
“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”
“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”
“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”
“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”
“Nobara, you know I can’t—”
“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”
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Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.
By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.
“What’s all this?”
“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”
“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”
Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”
“Did you replace your deodorant?”
“Yes...”
“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”
“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”
Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”
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But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.
“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.
The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  
“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”
Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”
When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”
“N-no.”
“Then shut up and fuck me.”
“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”
You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”
Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.
There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.
He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.
He only wants to help you.
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Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.
It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.
Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.
Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.
You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.
But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.
Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.
Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.
Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.
You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.
“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.
“Hmm?”
“Have I ever told you I loved you?”
“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.
“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”
“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”
“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”
“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”
You’re rendered speechless.
You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”
Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”
“You already know my answer would be yes.”
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“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”
“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”
“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”
With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.
While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”
“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”
“Another candy?”
You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”
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