Happy Birthday Queen Sorry For The Killing Game You Went Through

I would literally sell my kindey to see how you draw Kyoko just saying

Here's also stuff for people who asked for Kaede and Taka and Mondo.

tip: a concentrating and distracted artist tends to be more honest. But watch out

ah, ishimondo stage play execution, my beloved

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

How Much Territory Are the Fallout Player Characters Actually Micromanaging: An Analysis

I did some amateur research to figure out which of the Fallout protagonists (specifically 3, NV, and 4) have a reasonable area of land to constantly traverse. I used Apple Maps to find the straightest possible walking path from a point on either end of the game map, then multiplied the north-south and east-west figures to get an approximate square mileage. Since none of the walking paths were completely straight, these numbers will all be a little higher than actual. BUT the game maps also don’t completely correlate to the real-life locations, so consider these numbers to be estimates.

The Commonwealth: Around 600 square miles. This is honestly pretty manageable, especially if you’re teleporting or helicoptering all over the place. It would be exhausting, but you could theoretically get across the map in a day with time to spare for questing.

The Capital Wasteland: Around 800 square miles. Fairfax is the halfway point; very few locations on the western half of the map actually correspond to anything in real life. The exception is the cavern Little Lamplight is based on, which would make the game map 100 miles long. The map definitely doesn’t extend that far into Virginia.

New Vegas: Kind of hard to calculate at this scale, but we’re looking at a little under 3000 square miles! Through. the Mojave. Desert. The Courier is really going to have to commit to a course of action before traveling, because they won’t be coming back for about a week.

If you’re a fanfic writer, remember that you don’t owe realism to anyone. BUT, if realism is something you care about for your writing, keep these distances in mind!

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

Mystery Swim ↠ Deacon x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » You go swimming to find the Yangtze only for Deacon to start worrying about you getting sick from the water.

“I know I said you should go check it out but I didn’t actually mean it! God, you’re freezing!” Deacon frantically spoke, pulling you out of the ocean's cold grasp.

“Ha! That kid wasn’t lying! There’s a submarine out there!” You exclaimed, shuddering as the cold night air stung your glistening skin.

“Yeah, that’s great.” He said dismissively, “We gotta get you to Carrington before you die."

The old harbor docks creaked under your weight as you climbed out of the murky water. It clung to your clothes and you began ringing out puddles from the bottom of your shirt once you found yourself on stable ground again.

“A cold's not gonna kill me Deek.” You laughed, still excited at your discovery. It wasn't every day you found something so incredibly pre-war—especially since it still happened to work!

His hands gripped your shoulders potently, concern evident on his face, “You never know out here. And what about the radiation? Come on, we’re going back to the church.” He spoke quickly, spinning you around and pushing you onward toward the base to get you looked over.

"What's got you so worried?" You chuckled, opting to follow along with where he was guiding you to move. "I've been through worse."

"I know, It's just—I dunno, it feels like there was a lot at risk this time."

"What, were you scared I wasn't gonna resurface?" You meant it teasingly but you felt his hands subtly tense on your shoulders. Softer this time, you spoke, "Quit worrying so much about me, Deek, I know what the risks are."

"Yeah, yeah, I just—it took you a minute before you came back and—well—" He trailed off once the church was in sight, the small lantern that resided beside the doorway illuminating the space surrounding it, beckoning you toward the entrance. "Here we are." He breathed out, seemingly relieved at being able to see the familiar building.

“(Y/N) is fine, just a slightly lower temperature, but that’s to be expected,” Carrington announced, waving you off, desperately wanting the two of you to leave his corner.

You glanced up at your companion, who stood directly behind your chair, still fidgeting with his hands. "What'd I tell ya? I knew what I was doing."

“Yeah, whatever. Nothing wrong with being cautious.” He draped a tattered coat around your shoulders as he spoke.

“Are you sure it was just caution? It seemed to me like a little more.” You edged him on. Sure, Deacon was cautious, but you don't ever think you've seen him this worried about you before. It was endearing, to say the least.

He flicked the back of your head lightly, “That’s all it was. Now, tell me about that submarine you saw? Was there anyone still left inside? Wait a second, don't tell me—you saw a ghost, didn't you?"

You giggled at his sudden change, wrapping the sides of the jacket around your damp form as you told him all about what you saw. You'd dig deeper into Deacon's conscious later, for now just knowing how much he cares for you is enough.

Bro talk 🚀🏍️✨

(My piece for the @luminaryzine!)

The teacher's lounge is blissfully quiet and seemingly empty when the door shuts and locks with a click behind you. There's no one sitting at the computers, the couches are unoccupied, and the coffee machine is still and cold. You'd come in search of a reprieve, and can't help but sigh and sag with relief upon finding it.

Sometimes the teacher's lounge is just as bad as anywhere else.

Just as bad as the classrooms, the cafeteria, the gymnasiums. Just as bad as the library, the courtyard, the hallways. Just as bad as the bathrooms.

You love your job, you really do.

But sometimes you wonder if you shouldn't have sough employment elsewhere. Maybe at a more normal highschool. Or, maybe even for a lower grade. Maybe one before quirks start manifesting in most children. Not that quirks are a problem.

It's just that, when combined with big dreams and budding hormones, it tends to be a bit...much.

You don't know how the rest of the staff does it.

Granted, almost every other staff member is also a Pro-Hero. Which isn't to say teaching is any easier for any of them, but they sure do seem to handle the stress of it a whole lot better than you can. Do. Ever will. And all you are is an assistant.

Then again, you are Aizawa's assistant.

And his class is...it's something else.

Which is why you've gone and run off to the teacher's lounge. You adore the kids, you really do! For the most part! As much as you can, anyways. Considering none of them are really yours and they're constantly making Aizawa's life, and subsequentially your life, something close to a living hell.

You've considered resigning. You know there's an ample amount of other schools that would probably happily scoop you up. And, maybe if it was earlier in the year, you would have. But, that was before...

Oh.

Well.

That was before you met the puffy, yellow, man-sized lump apparently hiding behind one of the couches. Aizawa.

Or, here, behind closed doors, Shouta.

Sometimes.

It's not a surprise to see him there.

Not in the lounge, or on the floor, with his favorite sleeping bag zipped all the way up to his heavy and slightly bruised eyes closed. He practically lives in the lounge; spends more time in here than the classroom or his own apartment. He's obviously squeezing a nap in, for as long and deep as he can. And you can tell he's asleep, really asleep, because his mouth is just slightly open.

After working with him for as long as you have, which really isn't long, but long enough -- you know that when he sleeps, he breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose. Like even when unconscious, he's subconsciously still trying to meditate. Trying to relax.

Trying to do the same thing you are.

It's precious.

And a little pathetic, but you know better than to ever admit that out loud.

You teeter on your feet for a second, while he continues to sleep and split his breathing. You think that maybe you should leave, that maybe you'll get lucky and find some other pocket of tranquility somewhere. You don't want to pop this one. But, he hasn't woken up yet, so you figure it's probably safe to stay. It's not like you're going to make a whole lot of noise, anyway -- sitting on the couch and filling out some forms. One part of your job is keeping track of each individual student's quirk record; obvious strengths, weaknesses, growths, injuries, incidents. It's exhausting work, but work better done by you, so that Shouta can actually work with those kids and their quirks.

When you pick a spot on a sofa, Shouta doesn't even twitch. And when you pluck the pen from behind your ear and start scrawling away, the sound of scratching ink is barely any louder than his own breathing. Feeling confident that you won't wake him up, you settle into your work.

Anyone else coming into the lounge is, sadly, out of your control.

You get through updating about three forms when the sound of shifting fabric snags your attention. You peer around the couch across from you, just far enough to see that yes, Shouta is still sleeping, he's just moved around a bit. You hold your breath, and watch as a wrinkle that formed in his nose slowly soothes itself away. The zipper of his sleeping bag now runs down the length of the front of his body, instead of the side. You reckon it's more comfortable that way, and you wonder if he's dreaming. And if so, what he's dreaming about.

It's a curiosity that's often hard to quell, since that's your thing after all. Your quirk. The reason you even landed the job that you did. You can see people's dreams, and then project them. Furthermore, you can sometimes even influence them, with a strong bond and some practice. You aren't anything close to a qualified therapist or counselor, but...heroes suffer nightmares. Every single one of them. And, the idea is that - the hope is that -- you can help them. With that. Their bad dreams. Their nightmares. Their night terrors. Prevent sleep paralysis and insomnia and panic attacks. You haven't tried yet, not with a single student, but you'd had to prove yourself to Principal Nezu during your interview. He'd been impressed and pleased.

And Shouta had been intrigued.

For now, you've just been working as an assistant, and building rapport with the students. After all, the stronger and healthier the bond, the more you'll be able to help. And you want to help, you do. Even if you don't necessarily...like using your quirk. It always feels like an invasion of privacy, even with blatant permission and consent. People can't help what they dream. Sometimes they want to know, and you have to figure out how to tell them. Sometimes you don't want to tell them. Sometimes they don't ask, and it's better that they forget, which they usually do.

You, on the other hand?

You never forget.

At least not quickly.

Not without a drink or two and a damn good distraction.

Does Shouta suffer nightmares? Surely he does. But, you hope that on the rare occasion he actually reaches REM, like he might be reaching now, that he doesn't. If he dreams at all, you hope it's a good dream. But, what would a good dream look like for him?

...cats, probably. Lots and lots of cats. And having a body that was more blood than caffeine. Or, maybe having the body of a cat. Maybe a good dream for Shouta involved some fur and a long tail and a good sunny spot to soak in. You laugh silently as you picture it. Yeah, you could see that.

English added by me :)

Oumota week: Survival!

What better timing than now to start getting into the Resident Evil saga, I'm high on Survival Horror scenarios and designs.

And paralleling their story in canon, they're both infected with this "Despair Virus" that will inevitably turn them into unconscious, walking corpses; so before that happens, why not take control of their own demise and make it more flashy?