#last thing DiMA needs is this

[rad-roche]

I feel like the fact DiMA and nick broke out of the institute is such a fun, interesting plot point I'd love to learn more about. I don't think it's underbaked or anything, this isn't a cinemasins 'they didn't explain every inch of every detail PLOT HOLEEE DING' moment, in story I think DiMA saying 'we broke out' is fine. But I'm curious to see how that went down! A three year old and a guy eight hundred brain uploads deep successfully bust out of one of the most secure locations on planet earth. then when the three year old goes to give valentine the 33rd a sick high five he past life regresses and starts beating the hell out of this very tall child. if I were DiMA I'd leave nick in the trash too after that

#fallout 4 #fallout #nick valentine #fo4 #DiMA #last thing DiMA needs is this #it is pretty funny that nick gets his eggs SCRAMBLED #like its not even close DIMA batista bombs him. almost a little embarrassing

[fiend-shaped]

Teens sleep headcanons

Can you tell what im supposed to be doing rn lol

Taylor:

-Taylor has to build himself an exosuit of pillows in order to be comfortable (hence the exorbitant number of bodypillows)

-he has a large bed but always presses himself into the corner

-falls asleep very easily even when he's trying to stay awake

-one christmas morning when he was 8 Cassandra found him asleep in the living room with a sword

-when she woke him he cried because he'd missed his chance to challange santa to single combat and would have to wait another year to try again

-morning person, somehow in a non-obnoxious way

Normal:

-Normal always kicks off his blanket

-he moves around a lot and has fallen off of his bed on more than one occasion

-when he was 10 he begged his parents to let him have a bunk bed but they were justifiably worried he'd hurt himself

-he always has trouble falling asleep but once he's out it's very hard to wake him

-he tried using an alarm for a while but it didn't matter how loud or long it was, he always slept through it

-usually Hero has to wake him and more often than not she just drops a cold washcloth on his face

-pretends very hard to be a morning person

Scary:

-Scary tried to make herself sleep in a coffin pose but it didn't work

-She sleeps with socks on

-one time she had a dream where Terry Junior had been her dad since she was born

-after that she didn't really talk to him for about 2 days 

-when she was younger (before tj) she always made sure to arrange her stuffed animals so that they would all be equally close because she didn't want any of them to feel left out

-is genuinely not a morning person but also plays it up quite a bit

Lincoln:

-Lincoln has to be against a wall or he has a hard time sleeping

-he keeps his windows wide open, even when it's cold outside

-no problem falling asleep but usually wakes up multiple times a night

-is extremely comitted to making the football asmr thing work (at this point it kinda does but for the first few months it kept him awake and he just really didn't wanna admit it)

-is basically a morning person but not used to waking up for school yet

Bonus:

-Hermie has insomnia

-when he can't sleep he lies in the dark and 'runs lines'

-sometimes it's movies or plays he likes, sometimes it's rehearsed conversations and monologues

-when he can't remember a line (or hasn't thought of it yet in the conversation/monologue case) he repeats the last thing he said over and over until he figures out what comes next

-as part of his deep cover operation to steal the mascot costume he conviced his parents that he'd started taking a special morning class at chaparral. He needed to do this because his father always dropped him off on the way to work and he needed enough time to take the bus over to san dimas high in time for actual school to start. (Yes, this means that he hasn't been attending high school for the better part of a year and that his parents have somehow not noticed this)

-has to get up so so early for this stupid fucking scheme why is he doing this to himself i don't even care about chaparral high (internal monologue of the unfortunate compulsive scammer)

-tries (read: fails) not to nap throughout the day in hopes it'll fix his sleep schedule

#I know the hermie running lines thing is on the nose #But it is also literally something that i a real flesh boy do in real flesh life so im giving myself a pass #This is entirly vibes based no research so if it contradicts anything in canon no it doesn't #dndads #dndads season 2 #dungeons and daddies #taylor swift (not that one) #normal oak #scary marlowe #lincoln li wilson #hermie the unworthy #hermie unworthy

[amazinglyegg]

Nick tries to explain what trees are to DiMA

+ DiMA's drawing he made after that conversation (Nick's not too good at explaining things...)

Okay now for my silly little headcanons I need to write down before I explode

DiMA has blue eyes so the scientists can differentiate him from the rest of the synths!

I picked blue specifically because his entire Acadia room is blue with all the computers and such, which is a nice contrast to Nick's warm color scheme.

They were both tests to see how personalities would work on gen 2's - Nick being a preset personality and DiMA being left to his own devices to "naturally create" a personality of his own.

A small detail in Detroit: Become Human is that at the beginning of the game ("Waiting for Hank...") Connor sits very stiffly on his chair, but by the end of the game ("Last Chance Connor") he sits casually and a lot more naturally on the table instead

That's how I imagine DiMA to be - very stiff and awkward at first, but starts to mimic those around him (especially Nick) as time goes on

After enough time he starts to pick up on basically everything Nick does. Sighing, drumming his fingers on the table, even his accent!

He was practically a child without the whole "underdeveloped brain" part

So basically an information sponge who asks "why?" every three seconds

Nick found it annoying sometimes, but DiMA was the only person he could talk to so he always caved eventually.

Plus, trying to explain everyday things to him helped keep his mind off their situation.

Like, imagine having to explain to someone what the color purple looks like. Or what a dog looks like when they've never seen any animal except for humans before!

Nick was actually very cold to him at first, and continued to be every time he got his memories wiped and reset, but he would inevitably warm back up to DiMA every time

(except for the few times where he got his memories wiped several times a day, or even several times an hour... which was extremely stressful for both of them)

That being said, Nick's memory wipes were always a traumatic situation for him, and he'd have to re-learn who and where he was every single time

Through trial and error DiMA started to figure out the right way to comfort him and bring him down from any violent outbursts or panic attacks he had

Trying to escape the Institute was almost like a timeloop puzzle in the sense that DiMA had to re-explain everything to Nick and just hope they had enough time to figure something out before Nick got taken away and reset again

On a lighter note, DiMA loves drawing and would try and draw whatever Nick tells him about in the dust on the floor or on the wall - nothing could stop this man from creating art!

He also writes in nearly perfect font because he has perfect hand-eye coordination (and copied the font from the papers the scientists print off)

ALSO tiny detail, he drew his eyes yellow like Nick's because he had never seen his own eyes at that point, and assumed he looked the same as Nick <3

Okay that's enough for now I think!! Hope you enjoyed it!!

#fallout 4 #nick valentine #DiMA #fanart #institute #headcanons #god i forgot how to tag

[bowlingwithplanets]

Only Murders in the Building Season 3

Spoilers!!

Holy shit I did not see coming who did it until right before it was revealed!

Thoughts:

Was not a fan of the gay son and mother kissing each other on the mouth

I love Loretta with my whole heart

Loretta and Dickie were so cute!

Not only Matthew Broderick just showing up out of nowhere but Oliver FaceTiming Mel Brooks???

Theo Dimas my love

I’m so glad him and Mabel are shown to be actual friends now

Mabel understanding sign language!

God I hope they get together after Tobert goes to LA. It would make sense for it to happen in season 4. I feel like with how complicated their past was that they needed time to build up trust and a friendship before anything romantic could happen

I didn’t realize until I saw a post referencing it but Theo has showed up in episode 7 every season so far. And in the first season that was the episode he narrated

I knew Ben was talking to a cookie!

Also his sewing circle is so cute and I want one!

I’m so glad Oliver got his show and the girl, he really deserved it

The Nanny’s Lullaby was such a beautiful song and I actually added it to my favorite musical songs list

The idea that Meryl Streep could be someone who never got their shot to make it big and was hoping for any small role she could get is the most unbelievable thing in this whole show

If this show has taught me anything it’s that it’s not always who you expect

I love the recurring theme the last couple seasons of the importance of family

I was so glad when Detective Williams came back, I missed her

10/19/2023

#my watchlist #omitb #only murders in the building #Hulu #tv show

[dimalink]

Coldwave in my understanding

So, I want to tell about my way of understanding of genre coldwave. Coldwave, gothic. As I understand it. In terms, of I trying to learn music instruments – bass guitar, electrocutor, synthesizer.

 In my vision of this direction, there is no need to be a goth. And to be a depressive too. As in one interview someone said from Dreadful Shadows – If you have a depression. Then you will never do any music at all.  You will be very busy with other things, and not with music. It is such a music. Such a mood. Answering the question. And do you need to be a depressive to play gothic rock in different its ways.

For me music of cold wave. It is such a mood. Something similar. As to sit a little in a shadow. In a cold shadow. In a hot summer day. There is hot and summer at the street. And you are siting in a shadows of the trees. To climb deep into the trees. In a small forest. And it is little cold there. It is wind with cold. And little dark.

In this terms ideal is a track Clan Of Xymox – Climate Change from album Matters of Mind, Body and Soul. It is a very long title. Strange front cover. But darker part of it I like. They have strange front covers. And album itself I like a lot. Album makes on me a big impression at those times. And as a thing, I like a lot this song – Climate Change. It is ideal descriptions what is gothic and cold wave. In my vision.

Wind is blowing. Cold. A little cold outside. It is dark as darker part of front cover. And it is like in a hot day. When it is stands a hot summer. You are turn on air conditioner. Or take a little fresh and cold. Such a contrast.

Also, I want to mark and a first album Sisters of Mercy – First and last and Always. Dark and interesting. In a shadows, in a fog such visual. It has very interesting sound, mysterious. And also, I want to mark their glam moment – album Floodland. And also, a movement into heavy metal. But it is still in gothic. As I start, I will finish with Dreadful Shadows. With their song Dead Can Wait. And a song from album Buried Again. Such a rock and atmosphere, gothic tracks like Dusk. I like this track a lot. I want to finish with some strings as I remember them by memory, from one of the songs from this disc. As I get it, my own. Very my own.

When winter comes

We all waiting for the sun

Iced breath of a shining flower

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games

BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/

#coldwave #music #about music #gothic #air conditioning #fresh air #fresh water #cold in a hot day #tree shadows #music understanding #genre of music #80s #eighties #sisters of mercy #dreadful shadows #clan of xymox #climate change #electronic #bass #electro #electroguitar #bass guitar #synthesizer #hat #retro

[apricior]

part of the plan

during the two weeks that the teens are stuck inside the portal between worlds, herman takes advantage of the quiet moments alone to scheme their plan. one night, a sob interrupts their machinations.

decided i was done with my writer's block and wrote an oakworthy oneshot <3 for my dear friend @hermanunworthy !

[also read on ao3!]

Contrary to what many people would think, Herman Unworthy has always been quite fond of silence. Despite their overt and open love for the theatrical, as well as their nearly pathological need of being the center of attention, talking was sometimes too much trouble, especially when their input remained ignored, and they were perfectly fine with the peace that silence brings.

But this… this is different, somehow. Inside the catbus the atmosphere feels strange, oppressive, almost hard to breathe in, and it would be so easy to blame it on the fact that they have been inside this goddamned portal between worlds for what must be a week now (time works in weird ways when there is no day and night to help you keep track of it), but deep down Herman knows that this is not the problem.

The problem is not the fact that they have all been breathing the same closed air for who knows how long, or the fact that they’re ratioing their food and drink, not even the way there is nothing to do in this godforsaken place. No, the problem is very badly pretending to sleep in a corner of the bus, face hidden against the wall. Herman can very easily tell that Normal Oak is still awake because he usually makes some sort of sound when he sleeps, either mumbles or very soft snores, and the lack of any of those is a very clear sign that the (former?) mascot is trying too hard to appear to be asleep.

At least he is not taking his act too far by pretending to snore, because that would be even more annoying. And Herman does appreciate the peace and quiet that the (supposed) nighttime brings, it gives them time to think, to ponder, to scheme and plan their next steps.

Now that they are all going back to San Dimas, it is the perfect time for them to find a way to steal Teen High’s mascot suit.

It really should not be as hard as it seems, they think. It is very likely that they will have to go to the Oak household at some point or another and, if not, Herman can always ask Normal if they can come to his house, maybe leave the possibility open for it to be a date, and steal Teeny while he’s not looking.

No, that would not work, they need Normal to realize that he’s been betrayed for the portal to open. They need him to see, to look them in the eyes with those shiny brown eyes with confusion and pain and hurt, they need to see how his heart shatters with the realization that it was all a lie so they get to meet their dad again.

They should probably say something cool right when they betray him too. Something like “This was always meant to happen” or “Surprised, Normally?”. There’s still time to workshop it.

A sudden muffled sound distracts them from their train of thought. For a second, the silence returns, and Herman wonders if they maybe have imagined it. But then there it is again, a very delicate and repressed sob, as if hidden behind the protection of a hand.

Normal is crying.

Even though they knew that he was awake, the last thing that they expected tonight was hearing him cry. In fact, they were pretty sure that the next time they would see that would be when they accomplished their flawless plan, so now… they don’t really know how to act.

For a second, Herman wonders if they should maybe go comfort him. They have never been particularly good at offering support to people, and they don’t really want to ask Normal what is happening to him because that would be an open invitation for him to talk about his problems, which is deeply uninteresting to them.

But, on the other hand, it might make their role more believable, more… real. Thinking about the grand finale of their act makes their stomach turn in excitement. How will Normal react when he realizes they are not who he thought? What will he say when he finds out that it was all a lie, that they are born enemies, forced to be on opposite sides since birth, that everything that Hermie has ever done had the purpose of eventually betraying him? Will that get rid of the feelings he has that they clearly don’t deserve?

Oh, that sweet victory. The mere thought of a broken Normal after the big reveal makes their fingertips tingle with excitement, feeling the early joy of having achieved what they have wanted for so long, of finally being worthy of their dad’s pride, of ruining Normal, destroying him, cutting his wings into a million tiny pieces so that he can never glue them back together.

And, for that to work, they need to do an outstanding job first.

They are not sure if Normal knows they’re awake, so they quietly walk to him and sit down next to him, kind of hoping that their presence will make Normal stop crying, but it doesn’t, it just makes him curl into a ball and try to hide from their sight. Alright. That means that they will have to improvise.

“Hey”, they try. Normal holds back his sobs, probably his breath as well, but does not reply. For a few awkward seconds, they both sit there, side by side, maybe hoping that the other will give up first. And Herman is about to, even if deep down they don’t want to but then they remember their goal, their objective, how a deep emotional connection will make the scam stronger. “Normal, I know you’re awake.”

“I’m not. I’m sleeping.”

It takes Herman all their might not to sigh, exasperated; instead, they carefully place a hand on his shoulder, making Normal’s body tense. In a way, it is kind of cute how obviously he is crushing on them, how their charms and flirty one-liners have managed to manipulate him into him liking them, and Herman would be flattered were it not for the fact that they boy that Normal loves does not exist, no matter how much they wish he did.

“What’s wrong?”

Normal slowly turns to look at them and opens his mouth once, twice, but no words come out. Instead, his eyes start watering again, and a tear falls silently down his cheek before more follow suit. And this is exactly one of the reasons why Herman did not want to ask him if he was okay even if it breaks them to see him so sad, because they have never been particularly good at comforting people, and now they are not sure how to react appropriately. Should they just wait until he calms down? Offer him a shoulder to cry on? What are they supposed to do.

Another sob breaks the silence again, and Normal covers his face once more to futilely hide that he is crying again. Without even thinking about it, Herman lets themselves get carried away by the role they are playing and wraps their arms around him, holding him tight, a hug that they never expected would happen and, least of all, that they would initiate. Normal’s body relaxes immediately, but it takes him a second to hug them back. At first, it’s awkward, his arms around them in a way that feels uncomfortable for both, but after a couple of seconds he shifts in his place, and the embrace becomes more natural, more… healing. Maybe for both of them, not only Normal.

Neither of them says anything else, Herman just lets him cry into the crook of their neck, even though his lips are touching their skin in a way that sends shivers down their spine. And it feels so nice to be like this. Normal’s embrace is warm and soft and, even though it started as a way to comfort him, it… makes them feel safe. It is almost a pity that they will have to betray him. He is so genuine, so sincere, Herman has never met someone who wore their heart on their sleeve so proudly, and it feels… cruel, perhaps, to take advantage of that. It’s too easy.

But do you have to betray him?, asks an annoying little voice in their head when Normal’s hands grab their shirt. Do you really have to stab him in the back? Can’t you hold on to this for as long as it lasts?

No. No, they don’t care, they don’t. Normal is a victim, a prey, and they need to remember that. No matter how gentle his hugs are, how soft his touch feels, Herman must not lose focus on what is important now. All that matters is that stupid mascot costume; not Normal, no anything else.

Slowly, Normal’s breathing becomes more stable again, and Herman leans back a bit, feeling that the heat coming from his body is too much to bear. Still, they don’t let him go. “Better?” they ask, even if they don’t care about the response. They do. They don’t, they really don’t.

Normal has stopped crying, even if his eyes are still a bit watery, and the way that he looks at them… They are so close. Their faces are merely inches apart, and it makes Herman feel in a very strange way that they’re not sure they like. His breath clashes against theirs for a second, and Normal, who has been holding their gaze, looks down to their lips. Alright, time to release him from this awkward and unnecessary hug before either of them does something they will regret.

“Um. Yeah.” It takes Herman a second to realize that he’s answering their question. “Sorry. I mean, thanks. For this.” Normal awkwardly clears his throat, and looks down, incapable of holding their gaze. Please, look at me. Herman also looks away, now focused on their feet. “It’s just that I… I keep thinking about what we saw in the church, you know? I knew Uncle Lark and Grandpa Henry had their differences and such, but this…”

He shakes his head, as if trying to get rid of his thoughts, and he seems so… fragile. It’s eating him alive, they realize. All the secrets his family kept from him, the weight of the literal sky heavy on his blood. He was always going to end up tangled in this.

A part of them wants to think that their strings of fate were tangled from the very beginning, one way or another.

“And thinking about that got me thinking about the Doodler, and what I saw, and I just… I don’t understand. I simply don’t understand how Uncle Lark could see someone so fragile and want to kill it.” His voice sounds strained now, as if he were about to start crying again. “He’s just a teenager, you know? Lonely, misunderstood, who hurts people when trying to love them, when trying to be loved.” There is something about the way he says it that makes Herman feel… strange, uncomfortable. Is he even talking about the Doodler anymore? And why did his words make them sad? “And, I don’t know, what if the Doodler just needs a hug?”

Normal leans forward, as if expecting Herman to hug him again, and for a second they consider doing it, for the role, but the moment passes and with it, the chance to wrap their arms around Normal. They genuinely have no idea if this is a good thing or not. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, Normal looks away, avoiding their gaze even more evidently, and something burns in Herman’s chest.

What if the Doodler just needs a hug? What if it’s just misunderstood and lonely? Okay, Normal, here’s a better question for you: Why do you recognize it in the intrinsically unknowable being and not when it’s right in front of you?

They don’t know what to do with those thoughts, or where they came from, for that matter. It makes them feel slightly better about having to ultimately betray him; after all, they’re doing it for the greater good, for their father, and then Herman will not have to pretend anymore, someone will love them exactly the way they are.

“Sorry for… for rambling out loud,” he whispers, reminding them that they’re still here, inside the catbus, trapped between dimensions. “I think we should try to sleep now, and, um, if you want to stay with me… I don’t know. I’d appreciate it.”

Herman really does not want to they desperately do, but his words have lit a new fire inside them. They need to put their plan into motion, fast. They never had a specific deadline for it, no rush to complete it, but now they know: once they get out of this hole, it is only a matter of time before they destroy Normal. So, actually, Hermie scooting a bit closer to him and Normal snuggling against their side is all part of their plan.

Even if it makes their skin tingle in a strange way. Even if a part of their brain that should be more under control wonders if there maybe is another way of dealing with this, of moving forward, a way that does not involve losing Normal forever, losing his warmth, his kindness, his joy.

But no, there is only one way of moving forward, of making sure that their plan is a success. They need to remember that. Losing sight of the objective only leads to failure.

But resting their head against Normal’s is not losing sight of the objective, they think, and feeling him trying to tangle his fingers with theirs isn’t either. It’s just part of the plan. It’s all part of the plan. With those thoughts in mind, hearing Normal’s steady breathing and unconsciously matching it, Herman slowly falls asleep.

#my writing #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads fic #oakworthy #oakworthy fic

[fe-fictions]

Speaking of Dimleth softness…can you write some expert Dima husbandry? Byleth is very pregnant and tired and he feels utterly helpless. Until he jumps into action to help her wash her hair. Because he totally would.

(Foaming at the mouth for soft dima ;;;)

Eight months had come and gone in all but an instant. For yourself and Dimitri, it seemed to be a blur and moving too slowly all at the same time. The king and queen were thrilled to welcome the heir-to-be, and could hardly wait to meet them.

But until that fateful day could arrive, they had to wait through the trials and tribulations of pregnancy. Dimitri, being the not-pregnant-one, felt increasingly more helpless every time you quietly complained about your struggles. There was only so much that he could do to help you, after all.

He would do what he could to help you, but that typically meant calling for a physician or the nursemaids to assist you while he stood by.

The king could do small things, like help you off the bed or carry you up and down the stairs, it was practically nothing compared to everything else that you needed, and he couldn’t help with. It made him feel utterly useless; the worst possible thing he could feel towards someone he owed his life to (and loved deeply).

Thankfully when you woke up that morning, he was given an idea.

The king stirred when he felt you shift in his arms. Your back was to his chest, and his arms were carefully wrapped aroun you as a shield from the bitter winter cold.

You moved to get up, reaching for his hand and giving it a little kiss to wake him. “It’s time to get up, Dima.”

“Mmh.” He yawned, burying his face in your hair. “You’re sure you don’t need a little more time to rest, Beloved? We did not get to bed until late.”

“Seteth is arriving this morning to discuss urgent needs at the monastery. It would be terribly disrespectful to be late when he’s come so far…not to mention in this weather.”

“You raise a good point.” He sighed, and released you, stretching quickly before he got out of bed and rounded to your side so that he could help you up. “Do you need any help getting ready?”

“I will wear something simple. I do not think I need to be in full Archbishop regalia given my condition.” You replied, taking his hands and letting him pull you from the bedding. “Though I may need to bathe before I go. I’m feeling a little grimey, this morning.”

“Mercedes recommended we change your bathing schedule, didn’t she? Has it been two days, or three?”

“As of this morning, three days since the last bath.”

“You do not appear ‘grimey’, if it is any consolation.”

“It’s a feeling,” You replied, touching your hair, “At the very least, I need to take care of my hair; it will be in much worse shape by this evening.”

Dimitri frowned, thinking. “How long until the meeting?”

You looked outside, “Probably another hour and a half, maybe two if we’re lucky.”

Realization dawned on Dimitri; he had an excellent idea. “Let me help you take a bath!”

“What?” You looked back at him, finding a rather excited expression on his face. “You want to help me bathe?”

“I thought it’s a good idea, don’t you? This way I can help you get ready faster!”

You looked at him, surprised by his sudden enthusiasm so early in the morning. He seemed to be very charged up to do this for you, even if it seemed simple and a little unnecessary.

But Dimitri looked so very happy with himself at the mere thought. Who were you to say no?

“All right.” You nodded, letting him lead you into the washroom and start the bath. Water and fire magic made quick work of the bath, making it plenty warm (but far from hot for the baby). He helped you out of your clothes and into the full basin. You sighed happily, the warm water soothing you all the way through to your very soul.

“Dima…do you know how to wash my hair?” You asked him when the thought suddenly came to you. He nodded, bringing over the various bottles and soaps that would be used, today.

“Of course. And I will be gentle.” He added, before taking a pitcher from the basin and filling it with water. It was quite methodical, borderline calculated, in the way that he poured the water over your hair. He made sure not to let it spill over your face, and repeated the movement a few more times.

You got to work on washing yourself while Dimitri uncorked the bottle in his hands to prepare the hair washing. He hesitated for little more than a moment; he was quite excited to do this for you.

Finally, long, calloused fingers worked into your scalp, almost timidly. You did not react at first, not wanting to scare him or worry him by thinking he harmed you. So you continued your scrubbing while he started massaging the shampoo into your hair.

He seemed a little unsure at first, but once he found a rhythm, it started to feel incredible. To the point that your own scrubbing slowed to a stop. You leaned into his touch, all but sinking into the water while he worked. Dimitri bit his lip to keep from smiling to broadly.

“That feels so good.” You commented quietly, “Where did you learn to wash hair like this?”

“I learned from watching you,” He responded in kind, working the lather through your hair, from root to tip. “You’re always so deliberate when you do it, so I thought I’d give it a try for you.”

“You’re doing an amazing job. I could fall asleep if you keep it up, like this.” You added, “Want to do the rest of the work as well?”

“Would that help you?” He asked borderline eagerly, tilting his head over the basin to look at you. You cracked an eye open at him and touched the tip of his nose.

“It certainly would…it’s nice to be pampered every now and then. You sure you can behave?”

“Nonsense,” He brushed off your teasing, returning his hands to your scalp and resuming the massage. “If you desire your husband to help you wash, then I will do it without complaint or mischief.”

“What if I request mischief?”

“If it is what you desire,” He echoed, smiling at his cheeky wife. He leaned down, touching a kiss to your forehead, and continued his work on your hair.

Eventually, Dimitri would (carefully) join you in the bath, and helped you get washed up (with extra care and attention paid to the sweet baby bump where fists and feet would tap his palms.

It wasn’t much in Dimitri’s mind, but to you it meant the world he wanted to do something so sweet for you. He was doing his best (and was executing it beautifully).

#dimitri #byleth #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #FE 16 #dimileth #dimitri x byleth #fe-fictions #fe fictions #f!mu #f!byleth #fem!byleth #pregnancy prompt #pregnancy fluff #just fluff #soft and fluffy #skskkdkdjfnfnfngg

[chxrrylime]

I wanted to share this little tidbit from a thing I'm very slowly working on about Spider :)

Spider  ↪ 764 words — WIP

“The usual methods here aren’t going to work, John, we have to assume he’s been extensively trained for that, and if we go in knives out he’s just going to backpedal.”

“Pain will break anyone,” Ghost grunts from where he’s leaned against the wall, arms crossed, “eventually. If you do it right. Even child soldiers.”

“And we don’t have that time, Lieutenant. If he’s offered to help then we’ve no reason to beat it out of him, correct?”

“That’s if we can trust his intel,” Price murmurs, “could be a trap.”

“He wounded our men,” Soap grits from where he's sat atop the desk, his crutch propped up between his legs, one of which is wrapped in a brace, “almost took me out of commission.”

Laswell breathes a sigh through her nose.

“I’m aware, but you were there. Reportedly, he defected—the ultranationalists were hunting him for clean up. The tripwires were most likely targeted toward the same group your team was after.”

“Unlikely,” he huffs, “even if that’s the case, it’s been months then, what use is he to us without current—”

“MacTavish,” Price barks, silencing the shorter man with a glare.

“It’s better than nothing, we’re on a timetable here,” Laswell sighs, “I can at least cross reference it with some of my sources afterward, see what we can confirm. My people are more willing to give a yes or no to things we already know than voluntarily give up information about things we don’t.”

“Fine,” Price relents, “Ghost, on me. Soap, go cool off.”

The captive sits at the steel table, his hands cuffed but otherwise free to rest in his lap. It’s his legs they have restrained, zip tied to the chair around the slim of his ankles.

He’s been stripped of his gear and changed into a gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants,  his feet left bare against the chilly concrete. The pink stained gauze taped to his cheek covers the freshly stitched wounds from the Russian attack dog. 

He keeps his head down as the two enter, though peers up to track Price as he moves over—his gaze holds no malice, no challenge. A show of submission as Price tosses a file down, rounding the table and hauling himself up to sit on the edge of it, keeping his posture relaxed. It reminds the young man of teachers sat on the edge of their desk while they tell a story to the class.

“Alright. What’s your name, lad?” Price starts, his voice gruff as always, but casual. Like he’s talking to a lost child he found alone in the store.

“Spider,” the young man tries, his eye contact unwavering. The captain finds it unsettling, but he can tell from the man’s behavior that it’s not meant to be. It’s the same solid stare that Ghost holds during conversation, the one that people often mistake for an intimidation tactic.

“I know that. Your real name, son.”

The young man hesitates for a moment, like he has to think about it, or like he’s been told not to share.

“Dima,” he finally says, voice quiet, like he’s sharing a secret—and he might be.

“Price,” the Captain gives a small quirk of his lips, resisting the urge to hold his hand out for a shake, “last name, not a callsign,” he clarifies at Dima’s weary look, like he’s shared information in turn for half-truth, though he visibly relaxes at the correction.

“That is the man who stitched me up,” Dima says, leaning slightly to look past Price, at Ghost who’s in the darker part of the small room, leaned against the wall once again with his arms crossed, half hidden in shadow, “he has very steady hands.”

Price turns to look behind him, feigning ignorance—like he didn’t know Ghost was there, before turning back to Dima.

“Ah, yes. That’s Ghost. We don’t use his name here,” Price provides, gesturing to the gauze on Dima’s face, “how’re you holding up?”

“I need medication,” Dima says plainly, and Price raises a brow.

“Painkillers?”

“Please.”

Price turns to Ghost with a gesture of his head. The Lieutenant hesitates, and Price raises a hand to reinforce, gesturing to the door. Ghost nods stiffly and exits the room.

“The Lieutenant will stop by the medbay for us, see what we can get you under the table. No help to us distracted, hm?”

“I want to help,” Dima reiterates, and Price nods.

“So you’ve said,” Price sucks his lip, wishing he had a cigar to occupy himself with, “you did a number on my boys with your little traps.”

#mine #modern warfare #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #been too drained to actually work on anything #sorry

[usaigi]

🌿?

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

I think it's fun to think of your story as a universe and not just the story. If you're stuck on something that's happening in your story, write/draw/talk/listen to music/find memes about something that's happening in your universe even if it's not totally relevant to the scene you're stuck on. 'This (things) reminds me of something that's happening in my story' mentally is so important.

My friend send me this meme post and we joked about how it's Dimitri. I said: "Dima asks Rufus for help and he says therapy is for americans so Dima turns to facebook marketplace. He goes to some dude's house and he's like 'hey aren't you the prince.' 'um....no'" <- is this canon (in my universe)? who knows. Is it important? absolutely not. Is it funny and did it make me laugh? Hell yeah.

Right now I'm drawing Dorothea as different iconic pop culture moments from last year(speaking of which, if you have a suggestion and I like it, I'll draw it.) Again, also not totally relevant, Dorothea being a pop star is not a major plot point in my story. But is it fun? Yes :3

Writer's block is only dangerous when you're bored of your story. If you love your story and just need a break to think about it/need to focus on other things going on in your life, that's fine. But if you have writer's block because you're uninspired and writing feels like a chore, you'll never finish it. So have fun with it.

#meming your own stories is so good #be your own biggest fan #like ill watch anything and be like omg just like my blorbo #ask game #asks #dpsisquared

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions(+others) React: Sole has Amnesia (Part One)

Request: Companions(including Gage, Longfellow and MAYBE DiMA if you can, because I miss him ;;) +romanced!Nick react to SoSu losing their memory??? I'm feeling angsty today :P Part Two

Word Count: 3,200

Content: Brain injury as a result of falling, traumatic head injury, surgery mention, inaccurate science, companions dissociating, medically induced coma. Companions other than Nick have an ambiguous relationship with Sole. Panic attack (Deacon)

The Beginning Scenario (minus Curie and X6-88):

Looking back, Sole’s companion of several years could pinpoint the exact moment they watched it all go wrong. Sole, in all of their reckless glory that came with being one of the most prominent figures of the Commonwealth, were balanced precariously atop a building of several stories in an attempt to get ahold of a device they’d been chasing to the ends of the Earth.

The mission was a wild goose chase, thanks to a machine that they desperately needed up and running and the part being rarer than a Commonwealth resident that’d never encountered radiation. Sole and their companion were worn out at that point, at their wits end and ready to put the chase behind them. They weren’t thinking straight. They weren’t taking the precautions they normally did, weren’t looking out for themself– they just wanted the hunt to be over.

And then they were falling.

The rest was hazy for the companion. They’d hauled Sole back to safety– they knew that. There was blood on their hands, their clothes, underneath their fingernails and everywhere they knew they’d be scrubbing for hours to get rid of it all. But they were seeing it through a haze, vision clouded and distant. It couldn’t be them in this situation, there was no way Sole wasn’t fine.

Sole’s companion never passed out, but they felt themself come back to where they were sitting, waiting, like surfacing from an ocean of panic. Curie had emerged from the back room she had been working in, also covered in blood and looking more exhausted than they felt. She collapsed into the chair next to them, elbows resting on her knees, head bowed. “I have done the best I can.” Her voice cracked.

The ocean pulled them back under again. Through the haze they listened to Curie explain how they should’ve been in pieces, and nearly were, but thanks to Institute technology that had reached the Commonwealth, she managed to put them back together. There was, however, a catch.

She wasn’t sure they were going to wake up, and what the consequences of the damage would be if they did.

Their companion waited out the weeks-long medical coma in the same drowning silence, at the end of their hospital bed. Of course, the one time the companion stepped out for more than a few minutes, they came back to a solemn looking Curie. The conversation lasted far longer than they cared for, considering all they wanted to do was shove past Curie and finally see Sole. Then, the world stopped. They won’t remember you repeated like a mantra in their head.

Sole had no idea who they were anymore. All of those years, down the drain.

Cait:

The walk into Sole’s room felt like a death march more than anything. Cait wasn’t sure what to expect– she had seen Sole, of course, over the past week, but this was different. The bandages wound around their head wouldn’t be able to disguise the fact that they didn’t remember anything since waking up in the vault. It was all gone.

And there was something particularly hard about the pleasant, but confused smile that they greeted Cait with as she walked into the room. She could see it already. They didn’t recognize her. She was a stranger to them.

The first couple of weeks were hard– Cait had to abruptly leave many times just to gather herself and not show Sole how upset she was, though they weren’t stupid. She could see the knowing in their eyes, the way they watched her with a warm sort of secondhand-sadness. But still, they didn’t recognize her. So Cait told them stories about all of the things they’d gone through together, the many times they’d saved each other's lives, and Sole recounted stories that she’d heard before a thousand times. She never interrupted them.

Curie:

There was something particularly horrifying about holding together the brain of someone you knew so intimately, just for them to not recognize you upon waking. Curie had known it was a possibility from the exact moment she saw the state of Sole, but it didn’t sting any less when they awoke and asked where their child was. Despite her expertise, there were some things Curie couldn’t put back together.

She watched Sole withdraw. They processed the trauma of coming to in a world devastated by radiation and humanity all over again. Curie had to explain to them exactly who their child was and what he had done, and the sobs that had wracked their body when they found out he was dead would haunt her for the rest of her life.

But she watched them refind themself. The memories never came back, and so, because of their resilience, they decided to make new ones. They were hungry for the stories other companions had. Not stories just of them, but of the things the companions had seen and experienced. Likely, they would never be the Sole she had known again, but they were alive.

Post BB!Danse:

Danse wouldn’t dare argue that Sole was better off with the Brotherhood and their technology. He’d been willing to swallow his pride and accept the idea that he may die for asking the favor of saving them, until he watched Curie start working. She performed miracles with blood-soaked hands. Despite the nausea prickling at the back of his throat, he’d insisted on staying during the entire procedure. He’d seen worse happen to the people he cared about, and he was determined to stick it out with Sole the entire time, even if they weren’t conscious to realize.

If they started crashing, he wanted to be there for the end. Sole had done the same thing for him when confronting the Brotherhood, and he’d never considered leaving them in a moment so similar. He was on their side till the end, whenever that may be.

The weeks that crawled by with them unconscious left him pacing in their room, arms crossed, from sunrise to sunset. The only time he slept was propped up against their cot, gun within arms reach in case someone got the bright idea to come after the Minutemen General while they were vulnerable. There was something instinctual, beyond paying a debt, in the way he was so determined to prove that he could protect them.

Maybe it was guilt.

Regardless, the moment that Curie told him that they had no memory of anything they’d been through, he had to step outside. The injustice of it all had him reeling, braced against the porch railing of Curie’s clinic. Maybe Sanctuary citizens stopped and stared, wondering what was going on with their leader and why their companion looked so broken, but Danse didn’t notice. The world would have to stop spinning first, and he doubted that would happen anytime soon.

When he finally did go in to see Sole, they shattered his heart with the way they gave him a soft, confused smile and welcomed him in. The first question they asked was, “So who were you to me?”

Were. They soothed him ever so kindly when he immediately choked on tears, turning away from them to try and hide it. Of course, even with every memory of him gone, they knew. Sole patted the chair next to the cot and asked for every bit of information that might remind them of who they were to each other. A task. Yeah, he could cope with that.

So they spent hours and hours together, Danse recounting every bit of how they met, and he was blatantly honest about the whole thing, the way Sole would’ve wanted before. He told them how he was uptight and admittedly brainwashed, and how they saw the person behind that, the person he would become thanks to them. They laughed and cried and ended in a sorrowful silence, Danse wondering if he’d ever see the person he knew again and Sole wondering just how much they were missing.

Neither of them had answers.

Deacon:

Deacon had seen it all over the years he had been in the Commonwealth, and even before. He’d watched worse, helped nurse worse. He’d buried countless Railroad members, watched every expectation and hope he’d had for those people shattered, and still, he thought watching Sole hit the pavement would be the thing that would haunt him the longest. He was right.

He should’ve been there. They should’ve known better. Should’ves rendered him useless, head in his hands as he waited for any news. Other companions milled about the waiting room, popping in and out as they asked if there was any update and were met with a resounding no by one of Curie’s nurses. Deacon didn’t move.

It could’ve been one hour. It could’ve been twelve, or twenty four, or years. Deacon would never know with the way the time blurred into one big, messy blob, only interrupted by Curie coming to break the news.

Denial was an easy, familiar friend in the situation. Deacon liked to think he was pretty good at rolling with the punches and accepting situations as they came along, but this wasn’t something he could accept. There was no way Sole didn’t remember him. There was no way it was all for nothing, everything they fought for. God, even after all this time the wasteland could devastate him with its injustice. Good people just didn’t survive there, and that was a fact he was finally absolutely sure of.

He swiped away angry tears, thankfully ignored by Curie, and braced himself to speak with Sole. She let him into the room with a look that held every feeling that was cycling through him– the anger, the guilt, the sorrow, and the longing for someone who was potentially long gone.

When he sat down, Sole studied him for a moment with a look that was hauntingly familiar before they spoke. “No bullshit. How bad is it?”

Deacon laughed, but it came out more like a choked sob. “Pretty damn bad, Sole.”

“So you know me.”

“Yeah. I know you.” Like the back of his hand. He would never be able to forget them.

“Tell me how? God, I don’t remember having all of these scars before.” The joke was met with silence and a nod.

He pointed out every scar they had and told the story behind them. They were all mapped out in his head, seared into his brain. Every story they told him about the scars he wasn’t there to witness he recounted back to them in a way that felt so wrong. Every story he was there for, he didn’t dare embellish, but he still fought to make them laugh. The first time they did, he broke. 

The fear that he’d never hear them laugh again had been so overwhelming it had suffocated him, sent him into a panic attack in the clinic bathroom. But now that he’d heard the light ring of their laughter, he knew it’d be okay. It’d take months, years even, but even if they didn’t get their memories back, they’d figure it out. They always did.

DiMA:

DiMA had fought to get Sole transferred back to Acadia. It wasn’t that he doubted Curie– he’d witnessed her talent over and over again, but saving Sole felt like a battle. It was pure strategy and familiarity that had a hold over him, urging him to protect them from somewhere familiar. If they were in Acadia, he could protect them better. If they were in Acadia, this wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have failed to protect someone he cared so much about again.

Curie had gotten riled up for the first time he’d ever seen, spitting fire at him about how she was the best chance for Sole and she’d be damned if he’d get in her way. She was right, he knew. He couldn’t let his own instinct get in the way of Sole’s wellbeing, and so he accepted things as they were.

And there was something so ironic, he thought, about the way he’d spent years perfecting the ability to keep all of his memories just to find out that Sole would be left with none of their time in the Commonwealth. It was bitter, and he knew if this had happened even fifty years earlier, he wouldn’t have had the mental fortitude to keep himself together.

Sole’s first reaction upon seeing him was pure surprise. Not fear, or disgust, but gentle and kind curiosity that they expressed with respect, and he was reminded all over again why he always knew there was just something about them. Down to the bare bones of their personality, with no memory of the Commonwealth and exposed to something so unreal to what experiences they remembered, they were still the open and warm-hearted person he knew. It nearly crushed him.

He settled into the chair somewhat hesitant– where would he even start. “Do you have any questions?”

“Oh, several.”

“Go ahead.”

“... does all of the food really taste this bad?”

Tension broke as DiMA threw his head back and laughed. Yes, they were still them. “I would not know.”

“Oh. Yeah, should’ve guessed that. So… how do we know each other?”

Gage:

So maybe Gage didn’t handle the news as well as he would’ve liked, but considering the news, he figured the fact that since he didn’t strangle someone with his bare hands, he handled it pretty damn well. Curie was far more patient than she should’ve been with him, though the exhaustion on her face was enough to tame his temper in itself. 

When he resettled in the chair next to her, worn out by his own rage, Curie dropped a hand on his shoulder and he didn’t bother shrugging it off. It was something Sole would do, he thought. Would they still do it, after they got reacquainted? Would they keep the painkillers he insisted he didn’t need with them for when the weather triggered the stinging pain in his bad eye? Would they be the same? Did it matter? 

The twisting feeling in his gut told him to run. It was too much to handle, he didn’t want to be around to see the crumbled remains of the person he knew. But he couldn’t. Sole had been given the option to run an infinite amount of times, and every time he expected them to look at the battles he was fighting and get the hell out, they stuck by him. Even without that, he couldn’t imagine leaving them behind.

This was exactly what he didn’t want. This was exactly why Gage had been so distant. He was protecting both of them, and look how that turned out. Did he even deserve to be sitting in that chair, waiting for them to awake, like he was important to them? Like he was family? Curie stumbled to her feet, “Stop moping.” Tragedy brought out the brutal honesty in her, apparently, “You are not the one to be pitied right now.”

And, as always, she was right. He didn’t matter right now– all that mattered was Sole. Dread ate at him when he found out they were awake. Of course he wanted to see them, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to see in the first place. 

Gage stepped into the room and met their critical gaze with ease. It was one he had been familiar with, when they were getting used to each other. They were assessing a potential threat, and when they had deemed him passable, as they had all those years ago, they sighed. “So this is pretty fucked up, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty fucked up.”

Sole hummed. “Wanna tell me about yourself?”

“Nah. Not right now, don’t think I could handle that.”

“Alright. Wanna sit and be pissed about this whole thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

Sole nodded, though they winced at the motion and he winced at the state of their injuries. Sitting into the guest chair next to their cot and kicking up his feet beside them was easy enough. The evening passed in comfortable silence, both of them gazing out the window at the Commonwealth. There was time to figure out who they were to each other another day. For now, he was just grateful that he was able to sit beside them and be angry that they didn’t have their memories. At least he still had them.

Hancock:

Hancock wished he’d gotten time to bond with Curie over something other than crying at the state of Sole, but that was the nature of the Commonwealth. There was never enough time, and he felt the fear thrumming at the base of his throat and turning his heart, reminding him with every breath. That could’ve been it for them. What would he have done if that was it for them?

Of course, selfishly, the fear that his appearance would make a poor first impression itched at the back of his mind. Of all the things to worry about, he scolded himself. He remembered the easy way they had introduced themself the first time, the way they’d taken everything in stride and simply accepted that things were different from before, but he had no way of knowing how they’d react now. Sole’s brain was brand new, essentially, with only the scraps from before the war, and God knew what that would mean.

So when they stepped into the room and their eyes widened, he cringed and braced for one of the distasteful comments he was used to. They didn’t hurt so much anymore, but he knew it would sting coming from Sole. “Nice coat. Haven’t seen shit like that since history class.”

Oh. There they were. Even without their memories, they were so intrinsically them. And Hancock felt foolish to think for even a second that they could be anyone but the Sole he knew. Sure, things would be different now, but that was them. Relief would be an understatement for the emotion that washed over him as he settled down next to their cot.

Sole asked a few basic questions about who he was and what he did, and the pangs in his chest were bittersweet. Then, they asked how they met.

“You stabbed him?” They exclaimed, trying to muffle the laughter that rang out of them with the palm of their hand.

“Yeah. Listen, I told you. I don’t take disrespect in Goodneighbor.” He pointed a finger at them goodnaturedly. “I was serious, Sunshine.”

“Sounds like he deserved it.” They mumbled, contemplating for a second. “Sunshine. I like that.” The look they gave him was curious.

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

“Did you always call me that?”

“Yeah. I did. I do.”

Sole hummed. “Lucky me.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Companions react #cw derealization #hurt comfort #angst #headcanons #hcs #cait #curie #deacon #paladin danse #john hancock #porter gage #dima #postbb!danse

[yourpaceangel]

Valor’s Terminal

KEEP OUT

>ENTER PASSWORD

>fucktheinstitute1

>PASSWORD ACCEPTED

>LOADING…

[Cait]

[Curie]

[Danse]

[Deacon]

[Garvey]

[Hancock]

[MacCready]

[Nick]

[Piper]

>LOADING…

>[Cait]

FWB: Y

- Bit of a buzzkill now that she’s clean, but I can respect her choices so I keep that shit away from her.

- Great to be around for a night or two, but after that I need her gone.

- Still gets flustered when I climb in her lap, further research necessary.

SMASH

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Curie]

FWB: Y

- So glad she decided on a human body, but sometimes I do miss how creative things were before…

- Still need to ask how she does that thing with her tongue.

- Reminder: Keep her away from Danse. Their nerd shit is unbearable when they get together.

SMASH

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Danse]

FWB: N

- I have a feeling that Danse is the type to last two minutes and then cry after. No real need to test this theory.

PASS

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Deacon]

FWB: N

- Mouthy asshole who can’t say three words without at least two of them being a lie. Unfortunately, he also makes me laugh.

- If he ever changes his mind I will have him laid out flat in a SECOND.

PASS (though not for lack of trying…)

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Garvey]

FWB: N

- He reminds me too much of my high school boyfriend.

- A gentleman through and through. When I said no to any future encounters he didn’t try to push it.

PASS

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Hancock]

FWB: Fuck Off

- John I know you’re reading this and I don’t need your ego any bigger than it already is.

- Also make yourself useful and head down to the cave and collect some glowing fungus, please. I’m about to make a trip up to Far Harbor and check on the settlements up there.

SMASH (fucker)

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[MacCready]

FWB: N

- Did actually cry after sex which is… I mean, it’s awkward. I get it, he thought he was ready, but it’s still awkward.

- If I can convince him to stop posturing and Deacon to say half a truth for once maybe they could help each other.

PASS (revisit later)

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Nick]

FWB: N

- Apparently Nick doesn’t “go for that sort of thing” but he’s open enough to flirting for fun anyway.

- Reminder: Ask if he wants to come on next trip to Far Harbor to visit DiMA.

PASS

<BACK

>LOADING…

>[Piper]

FWB: Y

- Christ, it’s literally the only thing that shuts her up for more than five seconds.

- Reminder: thank John for suggesting a gag.

- Reminder: see if she and Curie are free tomorrow night.

SMASH

<BACK

#im sorry that this exists but also im not sorry at all #valor has OPINIONS #syl plays viddy games #valorposting #long post

[c0ffinshit]

Maybe You Are Prefect (Theo Dimas x Reader)

Maybe You Are Prefect Part Two: Back To December

A/N: hi hiii! this will probably be my last fanfic for a while since school is starting and i’ll be super busy with that. I’ll still try and post fanfics but just know that if you don’t see me post for a while

word count: 833

warnings: pinning, kinda childhood friends to lovers, fluff

“I think it’s weird meeting him again,” I told my mother.

Nothing about this dinner party seemed much like a party at all. It was a group of no less than six people, and it felt very forced. My childhood crush, whom I hadn’t seen in a long while, would be there. I was silently freaking out, my heart gently pounding in my ribcage. Mother looked at me with disapproving eyes.

“I don’t want to hear any complaining while we’re here,” she said as we exited the elevator.

Not really what I was talking about, but she was right.  Whenever we went to parties, I had a bad habit of complaining. It was always parties I never wanted to go to in the first place. Which I don’t blame her for.

“Okay,” I said weakly.

We were finally at Dimas’s door. I gently knocked. God, please don’t be Theo, I thought as my foot tapped against the tile floor. The door opens to reveal a tired-looking Theo. My mother was the first to walk and loudly announce Teddy’s name, Theo’s father. She runs past Theo and goes to Teddy, talking her head off about god knows what. I quietly walk to the large snack table, trying to avoid Theo’s penetrating gaze. My hand takes a multitude of fruit and crackers and places them on a small decorative plate reminiscent of a time long before me. Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Theo with a soft smile on his face.

“Hello,” I signed, “Been a while?”

I was surprised I could remember any ASL. Only really used it when I needed to keep my mind in check. Unsurprisingly, it was helpful when avoiding either people I knew or total strangers. My brain always told me it was just in case Theo came back into my life. It was one of those crushes that never went away.

“I guess,” he signed back, his eyes avoiding mine.

He wore the brown sweater I gave him one Christmas long ago. Which I don’t remember giving to him. My mother told me that I did. Maybe it’s one of those things my brain didn’t want to keep.

“I missed you,” I signed.

His eyes meet my gaze again. My heart started up again, but I remained as calm.

“I missed you too,” he signed, “Can you follow me for a second? I want to show you something,”

My eyebrows raised as he took my hand and led me into the balcony. They actually had a pretty nice one at that. His slim hand let go of mine and went straight into his pocket. A ring with a gemstone emerges from it, and he places it in my hand. He always used to tell me he would get me one when he got the money. I couldn’t remember why he wanted to get me it in the first place. Maybe as a symbol of our long friendship. Either way, I place the ring on my finger and show him, his eyes sparklingly.

“Do you like it?” he signed.

I gently smiled and pecked his cheek, “I love it, thank you,” I said, signing the “thank you.”

His arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug. To say the least, I was surprised and slightly jumped when I felt his hands on my waist. I think that made me remember why he got me the ring. The night Zoey died was also the night I met Theo. It was right before she died when I caught Zoey and Theo talking. He told her that he would get her a real ring someday. At the time, I hardly knew Theo, but at that moment, the only thing I knew was I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to wrap his arms around and kiss me, to feel his soft lips touch mine. Zoey seemed like a wonderful girl he loved. And I was just a girl in the background, like Duckie in Pretty in Pink. Pining after a boy who probably wants nothing to do with me.  

It broke my heart and still did as my arms rested on his shoulders. Tears rolled down my face as if they were the leaves in fall. I knew I loved him, and he didn’t even think twice about my existence. He was still hung up on Zoey, still not knowing if he pushed her or she slipped. His hands moved to my upper back, gently rubbing as he went up. His breathing was so soft it was as if he wasn’t breathing. I gently kiss his shoulder, my tears turning into sobs. My hands traced the words “I love you” into his back. A part of me hoped that he wouldn’t feel my feeble hands trace those words I had wanted to say for so long. Suddenly, his hand moves for my back, and his index writes these simply: “I love you too.”

#only murders in the building #theo dimas #theo dimas x reader

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

15 Questions: Character Edition

Tagged by @words-after-midnight! Using this for OCs as well as writers is a fun idea.

Going with everyone's favorite repentant bloodborn and fish dad, Renato (who just got some lovely new art):

(Thank you again to @littlestpersimmon for taking the commission! I love the background and fish details especially. Go check out more of Caleb's beautiful art and comics if you're not familiar with them already!)

1. Are you named after anyone? My given name came from my great grandmother on the Dimas side of the family, my father's side. I chose "Renato" as a teenager because the meaning (reborn) applied to both my transition and future as a bloodborn. Anyway, it shares the first letter and same number of syllables with the old one, so I also just liked how it sounded.

2. When was the last time you cried? I...honestly can't remember. Really. I'm not trying to sound tough or cool or anything. I must've cried when I was still a child of course, before the break. I can recall afterwards, though, watching the harbor get farther and farther away as my family fled the destruction on a ship. My eyes were completely dry. I still felt...still feel despair, anger, sadness. But after the world changed, I did too. Crying just seemed like a waste of water. It wouldn't get me anything, so my body just...didn't bother with tears.

*shifts, visibly nervous* But I think...I think I'd like to cry again someday? Is that a strange thing to say? Nevermind--forget it. Next question.

3. Do you have kids? No, but I have the next best thing. *opens wallet with photos* The goldfish is Tesoro--Tes, for short. They can roll a tiny football into a mini net. Ah, they're so talented! Then there's Beija, the pleco. She's nocturnal like me, but rather shy. And of course I can't forget the Venerable Order of Lady Guppies: Sisters Dolores, Joan, Hildegard, Leonella, Mary Celeste, Teresa, and Abbess Malfada. They're named after nuns since there aren't any male guppies in the tank and, well, you get the idea.

4. Do you use sarcasm? Occasionally, to make a point maybe. I prefer saying something outrageous with a serious face, though. I've gotten quite good at it over the years.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? It's going to sound terrible...it is terrible, but true. I try to see if they have a weapon, and assess their vulnerable points, gauge which would be best to strike first. You know...to incapacitate. Or kill, if need be. It's ingrained into you as part of becoming an aquila. But I'm sure you don't want to listen to such a dark subject.

6. What's your eye color? *sighs* They're blue-green, or aquamarine, or sea-green, or whatever you want to call them. I honestly don't find them that special. The way dark brown or black eyes shine is much more appealing, in my opinion.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Hm. I'm just as likely to be annoying and complain about either one being unrealistic. I think the execution and style is what matters to me, not the category.

8. Any special talents? Winning people's trust. Being deserving of it... that's another matter. I've been told I pick up languages rather quickly, at least as far as basic conversation goes. Of course I grew up being a strong swimmer and diver.

9. Where were you born? On the Pacific, in a ship's medical bay, while my mother was accompanying my father to the States. That meant I was a default Portuguese citizen, although I have dual citizenship now.

10. What are your hobbies? Looking after my fish, making a nuisance of myself, finding what little pleasures I can take. I'm starting to realize just how much of my identity was tied to being an aquila, honestly. Without that...well, I suppose I'll just have to test things out and see what sticks.

11. Have you any pets? Oh, do you want to watch all my videos of Tes and the others? [A/N: I advise you to decline. There are a lot of fish videos.]

12. What sports do you/have you played? I practice various styles of fighting and marksmanship, but that's survival rather than friendly competition. I never had a real opportunity to play any, given the world descended into chaos when I was ten. I mean, Ollie and I used to play a game where we'd dare each other to touch sharks while scavenging. Does that count?

13. How tall are you? 5'6". Many of the deadliest predators are smaller than their prey.

14. Favorite subject in school? I only attended about five years of Catholic school. My parents found me tutors for various subjects after the break happened. I did fine with math, reading, science, all of that, but I preferred learning and honing skills. Spear fishing, sailing, foraging, those sorts of things I could use in a practical sense.

15. Dream job? *grins* Indolent concubine of a lofty noble or conquering warlord (gender neutral). Let me know if you hear about any openings. [A/N: He doesn't know about the fantasy realm right next door to Earth, or the mind worms. Not yet.]

Tagging the Dysthanasia taglist: @thecyrulik @cljordan-imperium @k--havok as well as @vacantgodling @menagerie-of-monsters @calicojackofficial @afoolandathief an open one for anyone who wants to do this

#writing tag games #dysthanasia #art commission #character art #character info

[dimalink]

Bass music

And about my music exercise a several word. There is nothing special. I am a music listener. And I all he time to have a dream to take in my hands a music instrument and to do something.

This is a smaller size of a jack input

I have a soviet bass guitar Ural. Now I can go back to bass guitar. It is a deal that several month, starting this 2024, it was a repair. I can say I try to make instrument ok about to repair. I need to fix a holes for mount belt with a wood. To screw out those bolts that were there. And screw in a new ones. I take a not expensive Chinese. With a silver color bolts for bass guitar. And already install them. And check them. All is ok. Color is beautiful. Silver. Such white. As metal. It reflects light. Surface of bolts white, metallic, silver and reflecting light. Such a little you can see it like a mirror a little reflects such effect. It is beautiful result!

My brother helps me at all the stages of process. Without him – I cannot to do these things. All complex things were made by my brother. And my part was to keep guitar straight and not to shake a guitar, while brother do the fixes. But bolts I screw by myself. They are self tapping screws. But before to setup them into the place, it is required to take a drill and drill a hole into the wood. This for example was made by brother. Little brother is clever. He can do deal with tech. A head works very good.

These are new silver bolts that hold the belt. They are shining and new!

So, all the things are done, in main, to return to bass music exercises. So I do not played it because of repair about a month duration. But it is not done with guitar itself. But to start a train it is already ok. I play while standing. And do not to plug in instrument. And play with pick.

This is a hole to put here a new jack input

Most close stage – already to plug guitar into sound card by input jack. Standard input. And here in my bass it is installed a smaller size jack. So, I decide to update it with standard jack. It is already goes from China. One moment is that on this guitar it has a flat element for jack output. So flat metal element, this metal thing, it should be flat. So, I select a silver color. So, it is light metal. Iron such as a visual. And square form. So, I wait for delivery.

And in network lots of them rounded. So, a curved rounded elements for jack input. It is American format. It is most common. But in China you can find a flat variation to setup a jack into a guitar. This iron should be flat for bass guitar Ural.

 As I setup. I can to plug in. And a main that I already going back to excises with bass guitar. There are several exercises I do. And with slowed tempo I try to learn something, that I call a cold wave, gothic. So,  about a last year, and this year I already learn it. But in slowed tempo. But I have not played for a month and already forget.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games

BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/

#bass guitar #music #learning music #repair music instrument #retro #rock music #disco #coldwave #screw #bolt #jack input #guitar belt #music excersice #retro bass guitar #70s #80s #new belt #new screws #new bolts #silver bolts #new jack input #standard input #vintage guitar #vintage bass guitar #70s bass #80s bass #restoration #repair

[fictionkinfessions]

Glad to see more Parties are for Losers kins out there... I've been kinning KT since KT's official guide to coolness came out, so for... four years now? I haven't really checked in with the community that much, but I remember back then I never saw a lot of kins, so it's cool to see more of you guys now! I hope you're all taking care of yourselves, especially after 100 epitaphs came out. I'm kind of just chilling since I haven't really shown up in the last 8 songs. I'm Looking intensely at what's happening with Dima and Yura. I don't like to see them fighting - and I'm especially worried for Yura! He's going through so much trouble to help me, when I don't really think I'm really worth it. People have already died, which makes me really worried.

I'm also worried about Sanya. She always had a complicated relationship with Sergei, and I'm not sure if her breaking away from him will be a good thing or not. Sergei was definitely overprotective and controlling, but they also loved each other very much. I do think he wanted what was best for her - but I don't think she's wrong by any means, because he tried to force her to do what he thought was best for her without listening to her wants and needs. He was - again - controlling. And while I sympathize with the reasoning behind his actions and can see why he felt he had to do what he did, it's stifling her, it was killing her. He was a toxic presence in her life, and I'm proud of her for standing up for herself... but I also can understand where he was coming from too. He was trying to keep her safe, but he only ever drove her away, and he... just gave up. Sanya wasn't wrong - I know that. He was trying to isolate her by taking Yura away from her, and maybe he's right that Yura is dangerous, but... it's still not right to take away Sanya's only friend. Well - not her only friend. I was her friend, too - until Sergei took me away. And I was... dangerous. I was definitely, definitely dangerous, sure. But when he constantly keeps taking away her only friends, there comes a point where it's obvious - he's isolating her. No one would be safe enough for Sanya. Everyone would always be a threat to her in his mind, so he would isolate her from everyone. And he would say it was to protect her - and maybe he believes it - but all it will do is isolate her. He wants to shut out the world for her, because he thinks the world is cruel.

It's... everyone I met seems to think that. That the world is cruel, not worth letting in. Dima thought that too. And... I don't want them to be right. I don't think they're right. Maybe the world is cruel sometimes, but it can be kind sometimes, too.

I don't think shutting it out is the right option. But. Maybe I'm a hypocrite- because even I thought it would be easier to shut out the world, too.

I just - really hope my friends end up okay.

I hope any other PAFL kins are keeping themselves safe out there, too. You're all great. Remember kindness.

- KT <3

📦

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #paflkin #ktkin #chara love #death cw #mod party cat

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

Cat: Are you happy here? Li: You'd think being surrounded by cutting edge laboratory equipment and some of the greatest minds the world's ever known would be enough. Only problem is the lack of transparency. I don't think we get the full story on everything that occurs down here.

- oh? dish, girl, i'm all ears.

Li: What does that have to do with why we're talking? Cat: The Brotherhood needs your help, Doctor. Li: Needs my help? Why? They seemed to have everything under control when I left. Cat: Did you abandon any projects you wanted to complete? Li: You should know better than to ask me that. If they didn't tell you what I was working on, they didn't want you to know. I'm certainly not going to put my neck on the line and spread their dirty little secrets.

- rats! my powers of unbeatable charisma have failed me! i'd forgotten how frustrating that is!

Li: Why would I possibly want to come crawling back to the Brotherhood? What reason would I have to throw away everything I've accomplished here?

- "trust me"? greatest damn lawyer alive, and /that's/ the best i've got? nah, too easy.

Cat: I give up. What would it take to convince you? Li: All right, I'll play your game. I had a colleague down here… a Doctor Virgil.

- oh you've got to be kidding me.

Li: Several months ago, there was an accident in his lab, and he was killed.

- was he, now?

Li: I wanted to help with the investigation, but Father had the laboratory sealed, saying that it was contaminated. The incident never sat right with me. The more I asked about it, the more I felt like Father was deflecting my questions. If you bring me solid information on what killed him, I'll take it as a favor from the Brotherhood, and consider your offer. Do we have a deal?

- well, the good news is that good buddy Burce has recently been un-Banninged, so theoretically we could just go for a little field trip. i don't think she'll go for that, though, and getting Virgil back into this hellhole seems even less likely.

Cat: I know this may come as a shock, but Doctor Virgil is still alive. I met him myself.

- it just occurred to me to hope that we're not being listened to right now. whoops.

Li: Oh, please. Do you really think a cheap tactic like that is going to work on someone like me? Stop trying to avoid the legwork by lying. Either you get me the evidence or we have nothing else to talk about.

- well, it was worth a shot. plan b: this Holotape which i actually forgot i was carrying and am really glad i didn't accidentally leave in Sanctuary when i last cleaned out my inventory.

Cat: I already have something that might convince you. Li: How did you…?

- "yOu ShOuLd KnOw BeTtEr ThAn To AsK mE tHaT" :p

Li: Never mind, just let me see what you've got. Cat: Here you go.

Holotape: Virgil: I'm going to make sure the whole program is shut down. If not for good, then at least for years to come. After that… I know what I'm about to do will be seen as a betrayal. Treason, he'll probably call it. So… I'm leaving. I have a plan… and if it works, I'll be somewhere safe. Somewhere not even the Coursers can find me.

Li: They… lied to me. They lied to me, and I didn't even realise how far it went. All those years of loyalty… for nothing.

- good to have confirmation that Shaun is not to be fucking trusted, which i already knew. wait, did i say "good"?

Cat: No matter how badly it hurts, you needed to hear the truth.

- shut up ghost of DiMA past she asked me directly to investigate it's not the same thing shut up shut up

Li: And for that, I thank you. I came to the Institute to get away from the Brotherhood… from the whole world. I just wanted to do my research in peace. Father took me in and gave me access to cutting edge technology that I only dreamed existed. Li: I became jaded. I thought that the Institute cared. That they wanted to better mankind. Maybe, in their own twisted way, they still do. But now I realise if you can't trust the people you're working for, then it's all pointless. If they lied about Doctor Virgil, who knows what else they've been lying about… or what their plans are for my work.

- well said! now, have you ever heard of a group called the Railroad-

Li: I'll make my way back to the Brotherhood, but I'm going to have to do it on my own. I can't take any chances being seen with you.

- honestly, appreciated. i don't want to be ousted as an infiltrator yet, either.

Li: Tell whoever sent you that they've just regained the services of Doctor Madison Li.

- mission accomplished.

#three people i want to get in a room: proctor ingram doctor li and tinker tom #they'd either invent solutions to all of the world's problems or take turns strangling each other to death over personality differences #fallout 4: the resurrection of osha #fallout 4