#filed conveniently provides

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[haberai]

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[sebsbarnes]

Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?

im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.

pda || tangerine

tangerine x reader

warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.

he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."

with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.

tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.

"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."

it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.

there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.

"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.

the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.

"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.

tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.

"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."

"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.

just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.

"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.

tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.

"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.

you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.

"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.

tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."

you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.

"kiss me."

"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.

"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"

before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.

tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.

the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.

your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.

your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.

if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.

[nanotomik]

starbase 01 - spacecraft hangar [ ts4 lot download no cc ]

📥 download : patreon [free] 📥 gallery id: nanotomik

Welcome to Starbase!

We provide streamlined docking procedures, integrated cargo handling, rapid refueling, and comprehensive repair facilities. While our expert technicians care for your ship, unwind in our integrated leisure areas, featuring state-of-the-art rest pods, private gym capsules and communal observation lounges designed for relaxation and revitalization. Starbase also offers medical services for spacefarers in need of medical care. Experience interstellar convenience and comfort today at Starbase. Safe travels!

< I N F O >

50 x 40

fully livable spacecraft and hangar bay

lot type: residential by default but can also function as a rental

no cc but no pack restrictions

PREVIEW: 1 | 2 | 3 more preview pics under the cut

< R E Q U I R E D >

turn on bb.moveobjects before placing

⚠ heavily furnished!! it might take a while to load or cause lag

⚠ not sure if it's the same for you but in my game sometimes sims won't use the pc when the desk is too cluttered. let your sim sit on the chair before clicking the computer. or feel free to delete some objects

⚠ i also have this issue where some objects would fade when viewed from certain angles so some parts of the spacecraft would seem missing

packs used:

< T O U >

you're free to redecorate it but pls don't re-upload and claim it and put it behind paywalls

you're welcome to tag me if you use it! i always love to see it <3

all tray files are free! if you like my work, please considering supporting me on patreon or sending me a tip through ko-fi ☕

[unnatural-happenings]

Of Capes & Billionaires

Took a break from staring at my Persona drafts again to write this instead lol. Would be the first part to this if I decide that finishing the future drafts is worth the time spent away from the Persona fic (ie if I enjoy it)

Fandoms: Batfam x Reader x Avengers

Characters: Damian and Loki. Some of the Batfam and Avengers are here too, but the focus is mostly on them

Notes: Reader is They/Them, Loki is here because I want him to be, Reader is a kid of Bruce Wayne, While this isn't a neglectful!Batfam fic the relationship is still tense atm, for Marvel I try to stick to MCU personalities but a little bit of comic or cartoon quirks might make it in

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

Living with Bruce Wayne has always been frustrating. The rules, the expectations, the press, galas, and vigilante nonsense makes for an extremely stressful environment. Adding family drama on top of all that is a surefire way to make you slip away at the nearest convenience.

Your second home with the Avengers is more carefree—less brooding, way less pretending, and always welcomes you back with open arms… and maybe a drink or two. They're your safe haven, and you'd love nothing more to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, your family has never been good at letting secrets stay secrets.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

Damian could not believe this farce you're playing is still ongoing. You continue to vex him even in your absence and make his evening worse.

It had been a long day. School was as dull as usual, the teachers not teaching anything new and his classmates completely vapid, he'd taken care of every one of his pets, already got Grayson to spar with him, the rest of his brothers have vanished, and patrols wouldn't start for another hour.

He was as free as can be and it left him annoyed beyond measure. His go to option for filling up dead time wasn't available—to his complete ire—so he spent time in his room trying to draw while Alfred the cat curled up next to him. Though he could barely focus on what he was actually putting to paper, as his mind kept drifting to the one person responsible for his current lack of activity.

Stewing within his head and staring at a sheet of paper filled with mindless doodles is when his phone buzzes next to him. It's in a familiar rhythm that has him instantly pick it up to check the notification.

Fury is the only acceptable word for what Damian's currently feeling.

His sketchbook is haphazardly thrown onto the bed as he gets up—annoying Alfred—and makes a beeline for the door. He storms through the manor, every step fueled by a deep, aimless frustration as he throws open one of the many entrances to the Batcave.

Everyone's already arrived before him—or it's better to say they were all already there, and all strewn about the place. Though he cares little for their positions when Drake is the only one that can provide any answers.

Damian's eyes dart to the Batcomputer to see what you just posted to your social on one of the bigger screens, and Drake typing away on another. It was a picture of you standing on the snowy peak of mountain—drinking hot chocolate, along with some blonde guy that definitely didn't deserve to stand in your presence.

"Drake."

"I know, I know, I'm already on it."

He stands there and watches as Drake goes through file after file, checking as much surveillance footage as possible and putting the unknown's face through every registry he could think of. By the end, everything comes back negative and he slides downwards in his seat with a groan.

Todd puts down the gun he was cleaning, obviously barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen having resigned himself to lack any expectations.

"Let me guess, nothing again."

Drake runs a hand over his eyes and Damian scoffs when he notices his leg start bouncing, "He still shows no results and they're no longer in that location anymore. This was posted long after they already left… Again."

He can't believe what he's hearing. To have gone this long without finding a single clue leaves Damian doubting Drake's skill altogether.

"I thought you were supposed to be the computer genius of the family. How come you still haven't found a clue as to where our sibling is located?"

Drake lets out a sharp exhale, "We've been through this ten over times now and every search has ended the same. They post the pictures when they're already out of the area, they have location tags and their GPS turned off, despite clearly being all over the world their profile always signs in from Sydney Australia, their email isn't real, they're using a highly encrypted device even Oracle is struggling to deal with, every purchase they make is either in cash or using another persons card, and somehow, not once have they been caught on camera by any surveillance."

He goes on to mutter under his breath, too low for Damian to make out any words, but it further irritates him anyway.

"Are you positive you're even trying? It's not like they're not some elusive figure."

Drake spins in the chair to directly face Damian, his extreme irritation made know at his prodding, "I wouldn't even slack during an investigation for Kite Man, to think I'd do so for any member of our family is insulting. I want to find them as much as you do. It's also necessary to learn how they've been able to avoid detection for so long—"

"Well it sounds like you're only searching because they hurt your ego."

"Are you hearing yourself—"

"Enough."

Their father calls out from the side. He doesn't do anything else other than stand their and stare, but it's enough to instantly silence both of them and keep them from continuing. He gestures with his head towards the screen, and Drake rolls his eyes before spinning back around.

From behind the bat, Jason speaks out while cleaning one of his firearms, "So what? Either he continuously wipes every database in the world, or he doesn't exist?"

Grayson also finally decides to join in with a comment of his own, "Could he be photoshopped at all?"

He walks closer to the screen to get a better look at the man you're posing with in the picture. Cain follows behind him, carefully studying the photo as well, but not adding anything to the conversation as of yet.

Drake sits up in his seat, his anger fading into exhaustion with another sigh, "No." He starts another scan of the blonde's face through a meta/mutant database, "Both options are seemingly impossible, considering they go everywhere together with no evidence of photo tampering. One moment they're on the beaches of Denmark and the next they're skiing in Canada!" He mutters under his breath, "Not to mention they didn't even take enough money to go on all these flights. I have no idea where they're getting the funds for this."

He slumps over again when the results turn up negative, just like every other.

Todd strolls over like he has no care for the outcome, but it only takes looking at his face to see how this is affecting him. His jaw tense as he glares directly at the light-haired man, no doubt trying to burn his appearance into his memory. Damian has also done this himself. but truly, he doesn't think Todd's earned the right to be as mad as he is at your disappearing act, and it makes his own blood boil even more.

"Tch. We wouldn't be going through such troubles in the first place if they took their phone with them. We should not be learning about their location through second hand sources."

That was merely meant to be a statement regarding the inconvenience of their search despite being family, but Todd felt the need to add to it and make it more personal.

"We wouldn't be trying to find them at all if they didn't run off without saying anything, then start hangin' out with a guy we can't track."

"They wouldn't have even left if you all didn't—"

"Are we really doing this now?"

This time, their father doesn't interfere as Damian starts another argument, merely grunt in disapproval. Cain takes one last look at the picture and leaves Grayson's side—who in particular is wondering if he should step in to stop the increasingly violent fight—to walk up to Bruce.

He acknowledges her with a nod and she gets right to he inquiry, "… What about Superman?"

Cain's interjection causes Damian to put a pause on reaching for the nearest batarang to fling past Grayson at Todd. He needs to hear if the Super family has any word on your whereabouts. They should, but if for some reason they know nothing or refuse to help, it shouldn't be to hard to get information out of Jon.

"He refuses to tell me anything, and has made a conscious effort to not report any potential leads to their location in Justice League systems."

Drake turns towards everyone again in the chair, "Conner hasn't said anything either."

Grayson's in the middle of picking up batarangs lying about the cave and putting them in his inner jacket pockets, "They don't want to be found that bad huh…" When he's collected all that he can see he steps in front of Todd—ignoring the hard look he's getting from him, "At least they seem to be doing okay for now."

Todd rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his bike, "Why are we even trying this hard to find them in the first place?"

Damian turns his attention back to Todd with a glare, baffled by the idiocy and his seemingly short-term memory loss. Before he could remind him again that this whole situation is partly his fault, Drake replies

"You were on B's side weren't you? You know why."

Todd looks back towards the group, and for a moment Damian could see how tired he actually was. His shoulders slouched and the bags under his eyes became more prominent, though the frustration at the world—or maybe just towards their father, is still clearly evident.

"I really don't anymore." And just like that he was back to acting indifferent about everything. He hops on his motorcycle and starts the engine, then digs through his bag for his helmet, "Goin' on patrol. Anyone joinin'?"

Already in her suit, Cain is quick to jump on the back of his bike. She accepts the spare helmet Todd hands her without question and swiftly locks it in place as he revs the engine.

Father steps forward, his tone stern as he watches them prepare to leave, "It's not—"

"It's already dark out. Don't start this again, we're still dealing with the consequences of the last one." Jason snaps back. With that, they take off out of the cave without another word.

Grayson leans over Drake to scroll through the rest of your pictures. Multiple of the recent pictures include the very same man that none of them are able to put an identity to. Drake and Damian also scanning each photo they go through, hoping for anything to make sense about the mystery man. In every picture you're happy and don't seem worried about him at all. None of your expressions seem fake either, if only a little exaggerated in some. You act like you've known this guy for years, so why hasn't anyone heard of him before?

Drake runs a hand over his face a d huffs out his next words, "This guy bothers me."

Grayson leans his arm on Drake's shoulder, ignoring his attempts to swat him off, "I know right? He's blonde, that just spells trouble."

"… That's not what I meant at all."

Damian tunes out the chatter from the peanut gallery and turns to his father to inform him on his plans, "I will ask Jon if Kent has informed him of anything, or if they know where they are already."

Drake snorts and lets out a quick 'good luck with that'. Damian has to fight the urge to turn around and insult him for even daring to laugh at his attempts. At least he was still doing something, unlike some of the others.

Then he thinks back on the argument that got you to leave unannounced in the first place and he changes his mind. Half of this family isn't good enough to go searching for you anyway. He's sure if you spotted them, you'd make sure you're never found again. All this over something so idiotic.

Whatever. Once he finds you he'll make sure something so asinine won't happen again, so you won't have to feel like you need to escape again. He'll beat it into everyone's head over and over to never look down on you again if it meant you'd tell him what's going on.

Maybe he should deal with that unknown with you as well. Whoever he is, he's way beneath you, and you shouldn't be giving your time to him at all. What would make you stoop so low as to hangout with random civilians over your own family?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

"I swear to God if you throw that blue shell—"

"Too late."

You can do nothing but curse as your position is threatened. All you have is a green shell with a single coin in your back pocket, with no item boxes nearby to try for a boombox. Within seconds you're screaming as the blue shell reaches you and blows you into oblivion. You watch the entire race pass you while waiting for your kart to stop spinning out, ignoring the cheering from the God of Thunder and the victory lap the archer is currently doing around the room. By the time you can drive forward you have no hope of catching up to the front of the pack with no items and no coins, and come in 7th place. You fall off the couch to kneel on the floor, muttering about how you've disgraced your entire linage.

Natasha nudges your back foot from her position on the couch. She doesn't look up from the book she's reading, but obviously is addressing you with her next words.

"You still won the grand prix. Clint isn't even close, and Thor wasn't really competition to begin with."

You shake your head and lean back onto your knees, "You don't understand Nat. Every loss is a severe scar on my record. A stain. Something to be held over my head for years to come. I need to make up for this failure by setting the new world record on the track I've let best me in a moment of weakness."

That's when she looks up from the book she's reading, her brow quirked, not even trying to hide her amusement at your misfortune, "Aren't you already the world record holder?"

"It's obviously not good enough."

"You only lost because of a blue shell."

Suddenly you're being lifted off the floor. Extremely muscular arms wrap around your middle and pull you into a toned chest. Along with the deep laughter coming from the man behind you, and noticing the missing God of Thunder on the couch, you're easily able to identify Thor's the one to pick you up.

"You did splendid! You're mastery has indeed improved since we last versed one another, as have mine! Though Barton…"

Both of you bring your attention back to the archer to see he's still doing victory laps around the room.

"'Twas but a cheap trick. I assure you his proficiency is far below yours."

"A cheap trick means nothing. I still lost, and to him."

Thor only responds with more laughter.

Clint finally stops his self congratulatory dance to… correct your very wrong opinion of him, "Hey, that was not cheap! I worked hard to drive that Blue Shell to the front of the race!"

You wiggle until Thor puts you down, not wanting to argue held in his arms, "You're bagging tactics are cheap and lame!"

"Bagging requires skill—Wait you were bagging our last race! Why are you getting mad at me!?"

Suddenly a book slams closed, cutting off your oncoming rebuttal and drawing everyone's attention to the corner of the room. Another god sits in the corner, his displeasure made evident through the scowl resting on his face and the closed book on his lap. He stands with a level of grace only a spoon fed, self righteous royal could attain, causing you to grumble under your breath—assuming he's only acting this extra because he either wants something, or is planning something.

He shoots you a glare before addressing everyone in the room, his voice underlined with irritation, "You lot are trying my patience with your incessant howling. Attempting to put up with this noise any longer may cause severe damage to my own sanity."

You're heart sinks a little as he makes his way to leave, but on his way past he grabs the back of your clothes and drags you with him without a second thought.

"H-HEY! LOKI WAIT! THE GAME!"

The others do nothing to help you, all used to you acting as the mischief maker's shadow, whether willing or not. You make sure to flip them off before you turn the corner, seeing Natasha shrug and go back to her own book and Thor wave with one of the largest smiles you've seen on him. Clint only laughs at your predicament, so you mentally note to make him your target the next time you play a party game.

Once you're far enough away and Loki has slid his hand from the back of your clothes to your wrist do you speak up.

"You could just ask me to walk with you y'know?"

"So you wouldn't have thrown yourself to further rot away by the hands of that game to accomplish some arbitrary award that grants you nothing but bragging rights?"

"… No?"

"Don't lie to me."

You don't respond, and it's silent as you let Loki take you to wherever he's going. Soon enough you find yourself in front of your bedroom, Loki letting go of you and easily phasing through the door. With a roll of your eyes and complaints under your breath you follow after him.

He's already taken a seat on the egg chair you have next to the bookshelf and opened his book. You huff before looking around for things to do. There isn't much in the room, you never stayed long enough to bother personalizing it, but you do spot the Gamecube Tony bought for you as a joke. He was getting tired of you not doing anything, so he got that and a shelf full of games—said he was buying you a personality.

"Do not tell me you're still going to play that aggravating racing game?"

You continue to set up the console as you reply to him, "It's only aggravating when I'm playing with Clint, and is the one thing I have over Tim, so I gotta make sure I stay better then him." You look over to him and see he's still got his head in his book, "And you're reading! what else do you want me to do!"

Loki ignores most of what you said, only focusing on one thing, "If you are that keen on thinking about your family through every action then why are you still here? I thought you hated them."

"I just need time away." You sigh as you're thoughts drift a little more to the rest of your family, "That house is suffocating, but that doesn't mean I love them less. They're just being annoying."

A laugh escapes you when you think about how annoyed some of them must be right now due to your recent stunt, "That, and it's really funny being petty."

Loki let's it go as he chuckles himself, "Speaking of being petty, where's our next photoshoot? I'm sure they enjoyed seeing our last in the mountains."

You laugh more freely now as you bring your attention back to the game, pushing aside the more troublesome thoughts, "I heard Tony owns a private beach house. I'm sure he wouldn't mind us dropping by for a couple pictures."

[sunmoon-starfactory]

Bug Fixes - Multiple Sets

Multiple set bug fixes have been made from 4/20/25 through 4/24/25. All set main archives have been updated to reflect these fixes. However since they are single files here and there they are being provided as a standalone archive for convenience for a period of time. If you have downloaded the main sets AFTER 4-24-2025, you do not need to download these files.

Please see below the cut for an exact list of files changed. Thank you to those that reported bugs.

Download - SFS

Buzzin' About

Bug fix applied to Mead Tankard in regards to how the game checks for the Vampire life state on a sim.

SunMoon-Brewing_DrinkingTankard_Edible

Grapes of Rad

Bug fix applied to bulk wine crate. Now grants 12 bottles of wine instead of 10, makings the packing and unpacking amounts even.

SunMoon-Wine_BulkCrate

Fetch Water 4.0

Bug fix applied to Maxis Style Cactus plants; Harvesting of cactus seedlings will no longer throw an error.

SunMoon-FetchWater_MaxisCactus1

SunMoon-FetchWater_MaxisCactus2

Flowing Fabrics

Bug fix applied to Wool Winder station, fixed Inventory Tool Check - Now points to Wool Shears to allow for Trait Bypass.

SunMoon-Fabric_CraftingStation_WoolWinderDropSpindle

Forging On

Bug fix applied to both crafting stations to remove making of the now obsolete Fillet Knife item.

SunMoon-Smithing_CraftingStation_Anvil

SunMoon-Smithing_CraftingStation_AnvilStumpBarrel

Gone Fishin' 2.0

Bug fix applied to cleaning and packing station of dialog being fixed for stocking small fish.

SunMoon-Fishing_CraftingStation_FishCleaningPacking

Loads 'O Laundry 2.0

Bug fic applied to grabbing dirty clothes piles, Go To Relative Position has been changed from "Anywhere near, facing" to "Anywhere near, any direction" for when clothing drops "facing" inaccessible directions to sims. Sims should now be able to pick them up without further issues.

SunMoon-Laundry_DirtyClothesPile

Quali-Tea

The recipe note pad states that for batch teas to multiple ingredients by 5, and the pots were only using 1 water bucket. This was actually intended behavior to make 5 cups of certain teas with 1 bucket per batch. The note pad recipes have been updated to reflect that water remains one a 1 bucket needed basis and other the proper amount of other ingredients needed for batch making.

Dalish Tea Pot had some brewing errors as well as dialog errors. Should now be able to properly brew elfroot singles/batches and royal elfroot singles/batches.

A bug report was submitted about the Drying Tea Life pile reverting back to Fresh status if placed in inventory. This is not a bug, and is intended behavior.

SunMoon-Tea_RecipeNotePad

SunMoon-Tea_Teapot_DalishInspired

Savvy Stonework

Bug fix applied to the test bhav for items that require level 7+ of skills and Writ of Mastery. Code was accidentally looking at a different item GUID than the actual Stonemason Writ.

SunMoon-Stonemason_CraftingStation_StoneRefineAndSculpt

Spice of Life

Bug fix applied to counting numbers/items of grinding vanilla and cocoa.

SunMoon-SpiceGrinderConverter

[mathildeaquisexta]

How to search for a specific document on the French National Archives website?

I'm going to use this post by @montagnarde1793 as an example because it's very convenient for me: she perfectly noted the archive's class mark and she chose a document that requires going through several files.

Here we have a letter from the Comité de Salut Public by Barère, Prieur de la Côte d'Or and Billaud-Varenne and adressed to Prieur de la Marne. The details are as follows:

There is a lot of informations. They have to be decoded one by one. For now, only those details are important :

"AN" means "Archives Nationales". So the virtual reading room of the Archives Nationales is the most suitable website to conduct researches if you live far away from Paris and cannot go directly. This is what their home page is supposed to look like.

Okay now, remember the following numbers provided by montagnarde1793 right after the "AN" ? "AF II 37" ? This is the archive's class mark, its identity card. Now, we are going to use it.

Now, we see that that we put the right number and it is giving us the following information : the letter comes indeed from an archival fund produced by the Comité de Salut Public, it is stored in Saint-Denis, and it is available to be "Reserved" or "Added to the class marks cart". For now, we ignore those. We only click on the number.

And here appears a problem: the number exists twice, in two different places. I started by looking at the first fund, but it soon became clear that it didn't contain what I was looking for (here, the AF/II/37 call mark referred to naval affairs, which doesn't correspond to the document published by montagnarde1793), so the right link must be the second one.

So we click on the second link and we end up on this page.

We don't care about the general presentation of the fund because we are searching for a specific item so we directly go to dig into the details.

Okay. We know we have to click on the last link titled "Comité de Salut public. Cartons." because we already know the letter we are looking for is a CSP document and AF/II/37 is obviously somewhere between AF/II/20 and AF/II/42. And now we keep searching for AF/II/37 until we find it.

Now, remember the informations provided by montagnarde1793 ? The rest of the numbers is finally going to be useful.

Oh, it's here !

And finally :

AHAH, HERE IT IS !

And you found the document. Good job ! <3

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 3)

—

Tw: Vivisection mention, torture mention (GiW agent receiving), me not actually knowing how telegram works

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually.

(Pt. 1 here) (Pt. 2 here) - (Pt. 4 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It’s an average, ordinary afternoon in Gotham, and Jason is in hell.

Specifically, Jason is in hell because he’s been researching the GiW for the last week or so, ever since a cryptic message from Scarecrow of all people.

He still hasn’t gotten anything substantial out of it that Scarecrow hadn’t already provided. Most location data had been previously scrubbed from the database, weaponry details were apparently all stored physically, and the experiment logs seemed to be only accessible from within one of the bases, whose locations Jason did not have.

Apparently Babs and Tim were having similar issues with gathering information. He had sent a copy of the files over to them in a moment of weakness, but they were having the exact same results as him.

To make things worse, the GiW was more active than they had been previously, combing through Crime Alley and the rest of Gotham tirelessly. At least they weren’t harassing him anymore, he thought, but now he had even less of a clue what they wanted.

And to top it all off, the Joker had escaped Arkham a few days prior to Jason receiving Scarecrow’s note, and he still hadn’t done anything. That could only mean that he was planning something big, which meant more grief for Jason, because the clown was obsessed with him.

So yes, Jason wasn’t having the best week.

He got up from his computer, stretched, and walked over to the window.

The sky was Gotham’s usual grey, clouded with a toxic miasma made up of traditional pollutants and the aftermath of gas attacks both, which could generously be called ‘smog.’

The streets seemed busier than usual, or maybe that was just because Jason was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused.

With blurry vision and a dull ache in the back of his head, Jason paced through his apartment, going through everything he knew.

The GiW, or Ghost Investigation Ward, were part of a secret government project having to do with ‘ecto-entities,’ which were mostly made up of ghosts.

The GiW was able to kidnap and steal away anyone who was ‘ecto-contaminated’ to be dissected, and it was completely legal.

According to the non-censored patrol reports he was given, Jason himself was considered ecto-contaminated. So were Bruce, Damian, Steph, and Cass.

There were also several rogues that were in the same boat, but their names had been redacted, presumably by Scarecrow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he guessed it was either for leverage or privacy. Knowing Crane, it could be both.

Anything useful about the GiW seemed to be stored physically within their compounds, or on an operating system that couldn’t be accessed outside of certain areas.

Anything useful about ghosts was conveniently removed by Scarecrow.

And, lastly, he knew from capture logs that they had numerous captive ghosts which were definitely being experimented on. One of these ghosts was named Daniel, last name redacted, and had been turned over by his parents in return for allowing them to run their own experiments on the boy.

From what he could tell, it had been around fifty two days since he had been turned in.

Fifty two days of experimentation and dissection.

Jason had to find him.

But first, he had to find the locations of the GiW bases, and plan his entrance carefully. He couldn’t let them get away because of a simple mistake.

The only location data he had been able to find was on a picture of the boy, Daniel, a picture of a vigilante in a red suit, and a quick note left about Daniel which hadn’t been transferred into the main database.

The note was…

Jason had been around crime for a very, very long time. He understood it intimately, in a way most people would never hope to achieve.

He understood hatred, too.

And yet, the words in that note were almost incomprehensible to him.

They were mockery of a child in pain. A child that was not seen as human. A child that was seen as a threat, a monster.

The man had detailed the security surrounding the child being cut back. Apparently, the kid had some sort of sonic scream. They were removing the muzzle that inhibited it because he had screamed himself hoarse, and he couldn’t make a sound anymore.

He also mentioned that the kid was cut open at least once a day, sometimes multiple times. He was opened up, played with, and sewn back shut.

The man joked that they should just put a zipper on him, so they wouldn’t keep wasting their stitches.

Jason really, really wanted to kill that guy.

The metadata on the note traced back to a newly-bought building in Gotham’s financial district, while the photos both came from Amity Park, Illinois.

Amity Park, Illinois did not exist in any official capacity.

Tim, who had taken the Batplane to check the precise location listed in the metadata, had reported that there was a town there after all, and it was on complete media lockdown from the rest of the world. He hadn’t even been able to use Bat, Justice League, or Young Justice channels to message anyone outside of the city until he left.

Jason had checked the building in the financial district firsthand, and found that the man who had submitted the note had done so while resting on a patrol of the city. He seemed to go there often to avoid his superiors, and Jason found it easy enough to get the drop on him the third time around.

His advanced interrogation techniques hadn’t been enough to get the man to name any locations. Worse, the man definitely recognized Red Hood, and would definitely tell the rest of the GiW about what had happened as soon as he left.

So, Jason did something about that. He couldn’t kill him, unfortunately, so he did the next best thing.

The GiW sent him to a public hospital within a few hours of finding him with shattered hand bones, broken arms, and a throat with near-permanent damage. The man wouldn’t be able to speak for a month at least.

He might never write again.

Jason, having read the note over and over until the words stained the backs of his eyes, thought it was the least he deserved.

Jason sighed, stopping his pacing. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If anything, working himself up was only going to lower the chances of him magically coming to a realization about where the kid was or what in the hell was going on.

He walked into the kitchen, popped some leftovers into the microwave, and started them up.

Once they were done, he brought them out to his desk, intending to eat as he continued to work on the GiW case.

When he saw his screen, he froze.

Telegram had been opened to a new chat with someone he had never messaged before.

TooFine: who are you?

TooFine: why are you looking into the giw?

The messages were a couple of minutes old, probably sent while Jason was spiraling pacing. He just stared at the screen, dumbstruck.

Shakily, he responded.

RedDead: How the hell did you get my contact info

Whoever was on the other side of the screen paused for a second. Jason considered sending a quick text to Babs to tell her what was going on, but he decided that he could handle this by himself.

TooFine: got it from the backdoor I put into the giw system.

RedDead: Shit

TooFine: ok your turn

TooFine: why r u looking into the giw? seriously man

RedDead: I don’t have a single reason to tell you. Give me one and I might answer your questions

TooFine paused again. Clearly they both had issues trusting someone over the internet, and rightfully so. What they had both admitted to doing was incredibly illegal, and if someone turned them in, they would be in deep shit.

TooFine: ive been trying to take down the giw since it was created. I can help u if ur honest with me

RedDead: Oh yeah, because no one has ever lied to another person on the internet before

RedDead: But fine

RedDead: I’m looking into them because they’ve been shadowing me for over a month at this point, among other reasons

TooFine: other reasons?

Jason sighed. He shouldn’t have added that. He knew that the other guy would ask, but he said something anyways.

RedDead: They’ve got a kid. I don’t like it when people hurt kids

TooFine: Danny? he’s alive?

RedDead: From what I can tell

So he knew the kid. Or, at least, he was pretending to. It would make sense for him to be cagey about his intentions, and for him to be desperate enough to reach out.

TooFine: oh my god

TooFine: do you know what city? fuck

TooFine: fuck fuck fuck

TooFine: I need to find him man please

RedDead: He’s somewhere in Gotham

RedDead: I’ve been trying to find him for a week now but no dice. They keep everything important on separate servers

TooFine: listen man you’re a good hacker but you’re not as good as me. you need my help if we’re gonna find Danny

RedDead: Okay, what are you trying to get me to agree to?

TooFine: i’m coming to gotham and we’re going to meet up

RedDead: Hell no

RedDead: Stranger danger

TooFine: if I tell u who I am will you say yes

RedDead: ?? How am I supposed to verify if you’re telling the truth

TooFine then sent him what seemed to be a selfie. Jason’s jaw dropped at the kid’s sheer audacity.

RedDead: There’s something seriously wrong with you

TooFine: my name is Tucker Foley. i live in amity park. i’m in 10th grade

RedDead: ???????? WHAT THE HELL

TooFine: i can send u my address too

RedDead: PLEASE DON’T??

RedDead: WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE? DON’T DOXX YOURSELF TO ME

RedDead: WHAT IF I WANTED TO KILL YOU OR SOMETHING? WHAT IF I WAS A FED

TooFine: i have to take that chance.

TooFine: Danny is my best friend. they’ve had him for over a month and no one’s doing anything to help. mr. Lancer was the only one who cared and he gave up after they blackmailed him

TooFine: they’ve had him for OVER A MONTH. I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

TooFine: Sam and Jazz and I are coming to gotham and we’re going to find him no matter what it takes

TooFine: you have to help us

Jason considered, for a second, the choices he’d made in his life that had led up to this moment. He also considered, if he was in this kid’s position at his age, if he would be doing the same.

He decided to throw the kid a bone.

RedDead: [4735.jpg]

TooFine: HUH

RedDead: I’m guessing you know me

TooFine: RED HOOD??????

RedDead: No I’m just a very dedicated LARPer

TooFine: am i gonna die for Danny right now

RedDead: If I were literally anyone else, probably

RedDead: But no, you’re not. I’m gonna help you find your friend

TooFine: your username is red dead and you’re. yeah ok

RedDead: Oh come on, it’s funny

TooFine: Danny would love you

RedDead: So Danny clearly has great taste in jokes

TooFine: nope. literally loves puns and wordplay

RedDead: Nevermind

They both paused for a second. Then, Jason had a thought.

RedDead: Wait you’re in the 10th grade and you’re hacking into government databases?

TooFine: please don’t tell my parents.

RedDead: And how are you supposed to explain a sudden vacation to Gotham to your parents?

TooFine: wait so you’ll help me?

RedDead: I really hate to say it but I’m not the best at hacking, and my usual help is busy trying to track down the Joker. So, yep, we’re teaming up

TooFine: LET’S GOOOOOO

RedDead: God. I’m asking a 16 year old to help me take down a government agency and save another 16 year old

RedDead: I feel like the bat

TooFine: oh my god this is awesome. Danny is gonna flip when the actual real-life Red Hood comes to save him.

RedDead: I already regret this

TooFine: too late.

TooFine: btw do u have any place for 2 teenagers and 1 adult teenager to stay in gotham? preferably without dying but yknow.

Jason groaned. He was really, really gonna regret this, and he knew it.

Still, the alternative was some overeager kid dragging two other idiots to Gotham to find their friend and getting themselves killed. At least this way he’d have help, and damn good help at that.

He really was turning into the Bat, wasn’t he?

—

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IX

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.”

Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Available on AO3 here.

Obscured half-truths should have been easier to spot.  Was it mere convenience that caused me to overlook such details or the notion that if she lasted this long under Pantalone’s reign, she was likely a safe candidate?  Worse still, was it because I find her to be one of the only tolerable individuals to deal with?

She wasn’t lying about her father, the change in circumstance, a decision to utilize her skills away from home.  Not only was it obvious merely from her demeanor at dinner the other night but she had little reason to hide such motivations to begin with.  Her candor prior to this arrangement was a refreshing surprise in comparison to the layered considerations from my colleagues.

Her father’s health failed and although she did her best to keep the books tidy, they slipped into the red when deadlines were not met.  Some months were just above water only for the subsequent ones to sink again.  In most cases, Agents were sent to take care of such matters, but circumstances required the Regrator’s personal assessment.  They were denied an appeal and had little choice but to declare bankruptcy; subsequently, their credit was ruined, financially and socially.  Sneznhayan winters were bearable with a collective community, with every individual playing their part.  When one could not contribute, however…

To give up one’s resources and time and energy for another.  Only the Eremites showed me such sentiments provided I pulled my weight in return.

I leaned back in my chair and rested my boots on my desk, tossing aside my mask to press the heels of my palms into my eyes.  Ridiculous.  Had I truly overlooked her personnel and public records all for the sake of this experiment?  A mistake I would have made centuries ago, not now.  Emotion certainly didn’t drive this decision, for we had no such bond.  And although I’ve had fleeting thoughts of what her body might feel like, I was not a creature of hungry lust.

Exploring a purposeful relationship was enticing, a new adventure, and I was never one to turn down an opportunity.

How foolish.

Such circumstances in life naturally led to the decisions she has made for the rest of her career.  The Fatui, while hardly beloved, offered enticing pay and there were plenty of enemies to sell information to.  She had gone to the postal service before the bank that day I saw her in town and she has a knack for searching for details beyond her station.  It was the only thing that made sense. 

She was hardly the first I have observed to turn to such desperate measures.  Treason was reserved for the betterment of the people at the cost of oneself, but if she were to be arrested or killed, who would care for her loved ones?  Given previous conversations, she hardly expected anything from me in this regard.  Which meant she gave little thought to the consequences of her actions or had terrible foresight.

There was little else in the file.  The Regrator would have approved her resume and background and thus must know she may not be as trustworthy as others.  I, for one, preferred to have different minds on various projects to identify other ways of thinking.  But the Ninth was not one for dissonance, and either he hired her out of ironic pity or he gave no second thought to those he financially fucked over.

Somehow, the latter would not be surprising in the least.

Despite it all, I found myself intrigued.  Did she have a plan?  What was her endgame? 

“This is rather amusing, Prime,” Omega crooned, papers fluttering as the Segment tossed the files back onto my desk.  “I would have thought Zeta to be the one to be wrapped up in such a dramatic tale.”

“I resent that,” came a second voice, off to the right of my desk.  “Besides, we need a little excitement amongst ourselves on occasion.”

“Neglecting a background check on a future spouse you barely know outside of a professional capacity is careless.  I am aware all of us manage to get along with her but you must not be thinking,” Omega continued.

“All of us know what he was thinking when he caught her touching—”

“Enough,” I barked, splaying my hands out as I glared at the two Segments.  “This is a golden opportunity if managed correctly.  Insight into a common life experience and gaining information not first disseminated from the Marionette or the Regrator.  She’ll be an asset if used correctly.”

“She’s either the stupidest person in existence or the bravest,” Zeta chimed in, gleeful.  “Treason right under a Harbinger’s nose for years and now she’s gone and married said Harbinger’s higher ranked colleague.”

The silence of my inner mind was deafening as every part of me came to the correct conclusion: we stood to lose a great deal if she flew too close to the sun.  Setting aside Pantalone’s bet and putting everything at face value, the spouse of a Harbinger found to be a spy would cast my own credibility into account.  And I have worked far, far too hard over these centuries.

Damn it all.

“A solution will be found,” I stated, the familiar confidence settling the stirring of the Segment network.

I rose to my feet and straightened my sleeves, erasing the traces of uneasy thoughts.  Before me, Omega and Zeta remained unconvinced, their own arrogance and perception too sharp, too much like my own.

But it was not them I needed to concern myself with.  My meeting with Pantalone this afternoon was more pressing. 

As I dismissed the others and locked my study, Omega turned back and said, “This is your experiment, Prime.  But do let us know if you need a…helping hand.  She’s our wife, too.”

I gritted my teeth, fighting back the urge to remind Omega that I created all of my Segments as tools of perception, functioning individuals separate from myself.  A waste of breath.  Whatever eventuality was inevitable with my Accountant, there was little reason for it to include being woven into a web of my Segment’s antics.

The office was quiet when I arrived upstairs, the faint sounds of a group lunch mingling with those of a client conversion and a series of clicks from a typewriter.  Boring and slow and enough to stir my mind to madness if I were subjected to such an environment; the briefest stint in the Akademiya archives sorting organizing copies of theses with little to no consequence on the greater world was enough to solidify that. 

Her old office was nothing but a series of file boxes and a bookshelf, not yet re-occupied.  It seemed far smaller than I recalled it being.  An observation worth analyzing later.

The Accountant was now found in the office just outside of Pantalone’s double doors, a wide vista spanning out behind her and room enough for a small sitting area, tucked out of view from the half-windows that lined the front of her new office.  So far, she had only managed to place a few of the familiar knick-knacks from prior business trips as personal marks.  She was deep in conversation with an Agent, their hood down as they stood just inside the threshold, speaking.  Something in my ribcage ached at the sight of her, sun painting her from behind as she idly played with the letter opener.  Distantly, I could still smell her perfume, a testament to its quality.  The scent had lingered in the dressing room this morning, warm, a little musky, sweet in afternote. 

Rationality kept its hold on me but memories of pressing her against the wall, impulsive and opportunistic, burned my eyes every time I blinked.  Such need would be dealt with later.  It held no place now.

Briefly, I considered her high shoulders and legs ankles as she feigned casualty, leaning against her desk.  Part of me thought to rap my knuckles against the wood paneling and startle the rambling Agent.  Just as I raised my hand, the Accountant’s head turned slightly, eyes shifting and meeting mine.  She gave the smallest shake of her head before returning her attention to the Agent, as if nothing had happened.

I bit back a smirk.  How well she knew my curiosity for reactions.

Not bothering to knock on the Regrator’s door, I slipped away and shoved all thoughts of her soft skin to the recesses of my mind.

Pantalone barely looked up from his desk at my presence, bemusement sitting in his brow.  A chill ran through the office, the window behind him cracked open despite the whipping snow dancing down from the rooftops.  He claimed it was for fresh air, regardless of the season.  I once argued the inefficiency of such behavior and, upon my next visit, he’d purposefully gone out of his way to make it colder fully knowing one such as myself was used to cold desert nights.

I contemplated pacing to keep the rampant thoughts of frustration at bay but instead settled into one of the nearby sofas.  The leather was supple, more giving than at first glance, disarming.  Propping my elbow up on the back, I rested my head on my fist before crossing an ankle over my lap.  This meeting would be a waste of time, as it usually was, and the Segments were not helpful in sorting thought priority.

“You appear to have returned from an expedition, not a honeymoon, old friend.  Don’t tell me marriage doesn’t suit you already,” the banker crooned.

Already laying landmines?  How droll.  Beneath my mask, my eye twitched.  This meeting was supposed to be about several other matters, the most important of which was gauging how much he knew already regarding the topic the Accountant dropped in my lap.  He had to be aware of the pattern, but whether he intended to do something about it...   

I waved a hand.  “Unexpected occurrences in the lab in my absence.  We had a fine time away.”

Pantalone chuckled as he rose from his desk, picking up his walking stick as he went, the thing little more than a prop.

“I would have expected you more…relaxed, is all.  You’ll need to be a little more convincing than just watching from a distance, Zandik.”

Amused, I tilted my head.  “Whatever are you talking about, banker?”

“You played your role at the wedding well enough.  But what about the bedroom?”

Pantalone took his time, the tip of his cane thumping into the plush carpet as he went.  He was practically in time with the ridiculous clock in the corner, ticking away.  Truly, he was wasting both of our times prying?

“Get to your useless point already,” I glowered.

“Apparently, the both of you were never quite out of sight, seemingly glued to one another but not in the…traditional sense.  More like friends than eager lovers.”

With a smile, Pantalone continued, pacing as he went.

“That was not the tell, though.  It may have been beneficial to let the staff do their job instead of insisting on making the coffee yourself.  The housekeeper and cook might be in your pocket but they do enjoy chatting with the groundskeeper.”

“What happens between my wife and I is no one else’s business.”

The words were pure fact but that was yet another blind spot I’d overlooked.  Beneficial, perhaps, to the farce of a happy marriage on the surface.  To any outsider, it might appear that way.  But it was unlike me to forget my position, one I had overcome death itself, in a sense, to achieve.  In the depths of my mind, Omega chuckled.

Pantalone ceased his peacocking and finally settled onto the other end of the couch, thumb idly playing with the design of the cane’s metal top.  “It is when you’re a Harbinger, my friend.  We might above the nobility but that does not mean people won’t talk.”

My mind lingered again on unspoken expectations, the peripherals that mattered little to an experiment focused on a single goal but were imperative to a proper union befitting my station.  Even if this agreement was only for a year at minimum, eventually we would need to tackle nonsense such as intimacy, at least feigning it, let alone legacies…

They wouldn’t, not if this didn’t last.  And she…why would she agree to more than a year with me?  She’d practically thrown herself at me but that didn’t mean much in marriages such as this.  He was not entitled to her physicality, nor was she to his.

And only a fool would consider throwing children into a paper-thin union.  Genetics was always such a fascinating field, the potential born from random sequencing in a particular order, uncovering the result only as the subject grew…

Just long enough to win the bet.  That was all they needed.  Nothing less, but nothing more, either.  She would get what she was owed from their agreement and even as a divorcee of a Harbinger, she would be a viable candidate for another, purely out of a strategic alliance. 

She would be fine.

“You certainly put on a show at the wedding but now it’s time to continue proving it,” Pantalone said, his golden eyes boring into my mask.  “And distantly watching your wife or allowing ridiculous rumors to circulate about her is not in your best interest.  Nor is an unsatisfied partner.  At least for your sake.  You look as if you’re going to snap in two.  Get it over with, would you?”

“Why don’t you concern yourself with your own affairs, Regrator?  It’s not as if you fare any better in solitude.”

“Touche.  As you said, no one else’s business.”

“Then drop it.  I came to discuss something else.”

The other man raised a thin eyebrow in silent query, leaning back into the arm of the sofa.

“You’re aware that Northland is not the only source of my funding,” I began.

“Naturally.”

“A few of my investors happen to be within the nobility.  Recently, Omega reported that some of them are claiming financial hardship and they’re unable to come up with the rest of their capital.  I’m curious if the same has occurred for Northland itself, if there’s been increase in bankruptcies or other defaults as of late.”

Pantalone raised his head slightly, eyes leaving mine for a moment in consideration.  So, Northland’s capital, which came from the very money deposited by its customers, was more vulnerable than it seemed.  Had he done a poor job of hiding it?  Or was it intentional? 

“I imagine they’ve been crumbling under the new tax laws and tariffs as of late,” the Ninth supplied.  “But they must understand that their roles as nobles are to take the higher ground and sacrifice for those with fewer means than themselves.  How else are we meant to bridge the gap, hmm?”

And yet, the Accountant made it seem so…

His words were too dismissive, too easy.  I may not dabble in economics but for her to be so concerned, to consider it information critical enough to examine, there had to be more to it. 

But it was clear that was all I was going to get, even if I resorted to pushing back against him by pulling rank.  I rose to leave, ready to be done with this waste of time, and Pantalone did the same, closing the distance between us.  As I neared the door, he put a hand on my shoulder.

“Omega will receive his funding, one way or another,” the banker smiled, his eyes closing in congeniality.  “I’m sure Tartaglia would be more than happy to manage a few small collections, the Rooster said the boy is going stir-crazy as of late.”

“I’ll consider it.  Such actions may not be necessary.”

He patted my back, the action patronizing.  “You need only ask, dear friend.  Moving forward, another will be handling your accounts and budgets; can’t have your wife balancing your books, can we?

“Surely you didn’t move her merely because of her change in station?  She’s not one for taking credit where none is due,” I replied, glaring over my shoulder.

“Since it needs to be said, her promotion was both earned and acts a way to keep her from the rest of the nonsense.  There’s a betting pool for her resignation, another for when she begins to take sick days and wears looser clothing.  Her colleagues are just as vicious as ours, I saw no need for her to be subjected to it.”

“Betting pools started by you, undoubtedly,” I shot back.  “Considering your prying nature.”

“I’m wounded, old friend,” the Regrator pressed a hand to his chest, his expression sullen.  It changed as suddenly as it began, his usual stoicism settling in.  “But do consider what I’ve said.  Showing up to your own dinner party with this much tension will undoubtedly raise more speculation than quell it.”

Easy for you to say, you don’t have multiple versions of yourself in your head, I thought bitterly, opening the door and slamming it behind me.

I attempted to ease the tension in my jaw by focusing on the corridor and not the motion off to my left.  The slam caused her to flinch and look up, unused to the proximity of those whose blood pressure rose leaving the Regrator’s office. 

Looking at her did nothing to help with that.  The expression on her face was too similar to what I remembered from that morning, lips parted in ecstasy she thought was private…

Taking her on her desk, where Pantalone could hear every sound, would shut the other man up for good.  Would shut everyone else up for good.  But that required him to be a different man, one driven by base desire alone, with no respect for the set-up of the experiment.

And she wasn’t mine to have.  Not really, marriage laws be damned.

The experiment needed to continue unclouded.  Marriage was more than lust, more than sex, more than physical intimacy.  Her suggestions for trying to get along and know one another, as much as he would let her, would certainly lead to more success in that regard.

The moment passed as quickly as it came when I entered her office, her hand still poised mid-calculation.

“Thank you for not interrupting earlier,” she said, returning to her work.  “They were rather informative, all things considered.  And I shouldn’t have to say that I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

“I never claimed to be one.”

“Wouldn’t suit you anyway.”

Selfishly, I allowed myself the thought that kissing her would feel sublime, regardless.  Not an hour went by where I didn’t feel her lips on mine, a ghost of the stolen kisses from weeks ago.  If I was struggling with this, it stood to reason she might be as well.  And with the new information from this morning, I’m beginning to understand just what kind of position she put herself in, marrying me: she was not unlike Tyr, putting her arm in the mouth of Fenrir, as the old Khaenriahn myths went.

“Take an extended lunch and come to my workshop,” I said.  “We need to discuss a few details.”

She watched me, wary, but as I walked away, I heard her shuffling papers and gathering her belongings.  I did not pause in my stride when her office lock clicked and I felt her keeping pace beside me.

Resting my hand at the small of her back, I ushered her along amid her colleagues’ glances.  My skin burned.  Not even the thoughts of her being a political problem, a traitor and the biggest wrench in my plans, kept the sensations at bay.

I needed to get this experiment back on neutral ground as soon as possible.

[whumpedupgood]

Downtown Luxury Private Basement Retreat

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Luxurious bed sleeps six, custom-built and reinforced for peace of mind

Soaking tub with massage jets

Walk-in rain shower with sauna and pull-out faucets for easy cleaning

Sliding privacy screen between soaking tub and bed

Heavy duty eyelets anchored into walls, floor, ceiling, and select pieces of furniture at conveniently spaced intervals

Wall-size projector screen and entertainment system, including bluetooth capable projector, on-hand recording equipment, and noise-cancelling headphones

Soundproofing

Cameras placed at multiple angles for maximum viewing experience

Fully stocked medical grade first aid kit**

No windows

Catering staff and/or bartenders available upon request

Room service available by schedule or on demand (We respect your privacy!)***

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*Additional fold-out beds, dog beds, crates, cages, and carriers available upon request. We are not responsible or liable for any damages sustained to personal property during your visit

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[seyvia]

One evening...

As the fair maiden gazes into the sparkling night sky. An unexpected bright twinkle catches her eye, and taking a closer look, it seems as if a star is falling straight towards her...

But it is, in fact, a magical scroll with wings! It flutters open in front of the curious princess, and it reads: You are here by invited to participate in the fairy Queen of Spellbyndells challenges! to meet and potentially marry the Prince of Spellbyndell, hero of all Regalia.

Do you accept?

Welcome to the world of Regalia!

A magical world full of kingdoms and magical beings! (see my first post!)

rules and more info below:

ABOUT THE PRINCE:

the Queen describes Prince Lumin's character as a responsible and kind-hearted young man with a vivid imagination and a courageous spirit. During his boyhood, he spent countless hours outdoors, playing with toads and gathering unique treasures. At times, he even preferred to sleep under the stars. As he matured, his interest in various art forms blossomed, and the Queen takes great pride in his numerous talents. However, these passions have also revealed a challenge for the prince, as he often chooses to focus on his projects rather than connect with the people around him. ( she still sees him as her little boy who needs protection and guidance. ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) )

HOW IT WORKS:

8 ladies. 4 Queen trials. All of them will have four chances to win a spot to meet the prince and proceed to the Bachelor potion of the challenge. The remaining four who didn't win any of the challenges will be sent home. The Queens Trails will be a mix of skill and dumb luck. The Bachelor potion will be like what you've seen before, they will be introduced to the prince then left to their own autonomy for a mingle day. Then all 4 ladies will go on a solo date with him. at the end of the week a sim will be eliminated until there is only one...The One! (I will be playing it with royal prudence, so no woohoos until marriage)

SUBMISSION RULES:

Reservations for spots are first-come-first-serve. If for any reason you'd like to give up your reservation, contact me immediately so I can give that reservation to someone else!

Young adult woman only.♀️

occults & humans welcome!

tell me why your princess decided to accept the queens invitation, a little backstory! I'm really curious about their situation weather its good or bad! (you can ask me any questions you might have)

Must have 1 negative trait; Can't have Romantic traits.

You can have as many likes & skills as you want, but skills can't go past level 2. Since you are a princess you are distinguished, so you can have your choice of two skills at level 4.

Only Maxis Match Hair🪮 but Maxis Mix outfits are welcome. (be sure to include the cc when sent to me)

All ladies must have one outfit in each category. Your princess should be adorned in a ballgown for their formal.👗 (here is a link to a creator in case you need it. tsr warning) I can supply your sim with a gown if necessary.

Must be comfortable with minor changes being made to your sims appearance. And possible story dialog writing.

Here is a link to a list of the sliders I use if needed.

I own all packs except for Journey to Batuu & the newest Hobbies one; the only CAS Kits I have are Incheon arrivals, Moonlight chic, Throwback fits.

NO DEADLINE! Submissions will close when all 8 spots are filled. Please provide your sim’s tray files as soon as convenient

I will be updating the number of spots reserved periodically and will announce when all spots are taken, but if you’re ever unsure, don’t be afraid to DM me/send an ask!

ALL SPOTS ARE FILLED. THANK YOU!

@jonquilyst

@rebelangelsims

@sanitysims

@riverofjazzsims

@paracosmic-sims

@perolesims

@simscici

@bloomingkyras

Remember to have fun!!!

[worriedvision]

A marriage of convenience - Mr Reca

Gender neutral reader, sitting on this one for a while. Angsty ending, basically yet another example of poor communication and misinterpreted comments from both parties.

--

"Oh, dear you need to get married soon! You still have years to get your career sorted, but finding yourself a good spouse is a different story!"

"Still no ring on your finger?"

"No bitches?"

These are comments various family members just kept asking you. It didn't make sense to you, your personal life was your own business and you didn't ever think to move on the comments. You'd brush them off, but after they never stopped you began to vent to your best friend, Mr Reca.

"Ah, why don't we use this as an opportunity to explore a marriage! It'll help be with my, uhh, my scriptwriting!" Your friend stumbled momentarily before rounding off confidently.

It made sense at the time - both of you were single, he needed 'script material' and you needed the comments to stop. It was fortunate you had the chance to work with your friend through this, and it was more likely he was just seeing this as a chance to see his next film idea come to fruition.

--

As time moved on, and you got married with a large extravagant wedding - filmed on old cameras - you begin to realise just how infatuated you were with your husband. When he was in public with you, he would be non-stop gushing to people about how amazing he was for landing someone as amazing as you. The public affection, the fact he would take any chance to get you something nice.

It wasn't there as much behind closed doors, and it made you yearn for more private moments with him. He was a busy man, however, so it proves difficult.

You try, though! Making him packed lunches, kissing him on the cheek whenever you got the chance and trying to initiate hugs at home.

None of it seemed to do much, though. He wouldn't react, but it wasn't a good thing. It was like he was thinking 'yes, this is what a marriage should be, good job _!' instead of a quiet appreciation.

You yearn to have more moments, and it doesn't help that the press have clocked that your affections carry out privately as opposed to the public. People accuse you of being a gold digger, of being a leech that's too stupid to realise it's being a leech.

Once you get home after a particularly difficult day, dealing with dirty looks, you decide to bring up divorce with your husband. It breaks your heart how willingly he is to accept a divorce like it was nothing. It had been a while, you'd have thought he would care even if it was just for script-writing. Part of you thinks he's just wanting a sad dramatic end for this chapter, but he can write a much better ending than the one you're about to provide.

The paperwork gets signed and filed away, cameras around you as the two of you leave the building, and you turn to your now ex-husband to say some parting words, and to leave him with one last act of affection.

"I'm sorry, I fell in love with you. You're a wonderful man, you'll find someone who can treat you better than myself." You smile, Mr Reca seemingly only realising in that moment you actually had feelings for him. You grab him by his cheeks lightly, delicately yet passionately kissing him before pulling away, tears brewing in your eyes as you pull off your wedding band and drop it.

Before he has time to stop you, however, you run off into the crowd, the crowd swarming him for interviews now that he was a newly divorced man.

[haberai]

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[itsabouttimex2]

Hope you’ve been well! I’ve done nothing but lurk on thin internet for years so this may be my first request on any platform. And it’s about a Lego monkey😭

With that said, can I get a romantic yandere Wukong with big feels for his exasperated lawyer? Or just and exasperated reader in general if you want lol

Can’t Fool You

(Well, I hope to receive more requests from you in the future! And I’m here writing about that monkey, so… we’re in the same boat!)

By now, you have your own little “everything” in his house.

Your own snacks. Your own mug. Your own “spot” on the worn-out couch.

And all three are conveniently laid out in front of you, an enticing spread of exotic and varied chocolates laid out next to your trusty porcelain stein, filled to the brim with a steaming brew. The couch cushion has been dusted and sprayed with a floral perfume. Your case files are neatly stacked on the edge of table.

This is probably the cleverest trap he’s created yet- not that it’s nearly enough to fool you.

“Sun Wukong, reveal yourself this instant.”

The Great Sage has learned by now that there’s no real way to argue with you, not unless he wants to spend this lovely afternoon sitting awkwardly on his knees, receiving a very lengthy lecture about wasting your time with petty and ill-built debates.

So instead he sounds a very lengthy whine, groaning and huffing as golden light emanates from the cushion placed right before the enticingly decorated table. It shifts and bends and sparks, slowly reforming into the Great Sage that you had come to know and tolerate.

“Bud, you always see right through me,” he compliments, though there’s still the edge of a soft whine through those honeyed words. He’s growing impatient with the lack of skinship and affection. “How could you tell?”

“Sun Wukong, the real cushion is clearly sticking out from behind the couch, you didn’t bother to clean any other part of the couch, and I heard you giggling as I came through the door!”

“Aww, hun!” He coos, disregarding every single time you had told him to refer to you by first or last name. “You’re SO smart!”

From another mouth it might’ve sounded sarcastic or demeaning. Maybe even spiteful. But in those five words alone has Wukong loaded love, admiration, devotion, and obsession.

“This is why I picked you as my lawyer, hun.”

No the hell it’s not, you want to say. And that would be true- you were picked as his lawyer because no one else could:

1. Stomach his constant jokes and tomfoolery

2. Work around dozens of mischievous and rowdy monkeys

3. Reliably out-scream Ne Zha

And you only kept working at this tedious job because he provided free boarding and food, and spoiled you with treasures. It was an unorthodox manner of payment, but stupidly lucrative.

You won a case. He “paid” you with an ancient relic. You took it to an antiques dealer. They considered scamming or skimping, then caught sight of Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. They paid you fairly.

And you walked away with heavy pockets.

It made for a good routine.

And you could tolerate that chaotic and breakneck lifestyle right up until you came “home” and had to spend half the night warding off both Wukong and his little troop of monsters from your bed.

Those little white-furred monkeys…

“They think you’re their other grandparent,” he had said once, dumping half a troop into your bed beside you as you protested and argued about their thieving hands and loud mouths. “Since you spend so much time with me, hun.”

“Then tell them I’m not.”

“Sorry, Y/N. Too late~”

…it had taken you two hours to pick out all the white strands of monkey hair, and an hour more to clear the smell. You had sworn to put up spikes, wire, fences- anything to prevent

Only to go soft at the begging of a baby; the runt of her troop, and allow her to settle on your pillow as you worked.

Damn the weakness of your heart- it had been a major mistake on your part.

You ended up throwing that pillow away after a very characteristic “monkey mess”, burning it in broad daylight and scattering the ashes amongst Flower Fruit Mountain’s fertile soil.

Ugh.

A muscular hand falls on either of your shoulders, directing you forward- Wukong’s replaced the old cushion and decorated it with silk pillows and peach blossom petals, and even taken the time to light a candle.

He nudges until you’ve reached the seat, then- perhaps with more force than intended- pushes you onto the couch.

“Wukong!” You call in anger, planting both hands firmly onto the furniture to steady yourself, making a move to stand- only for the Great Sage to throw himself into your open lap with a smile. His fur tickles at your thighs, a snug coat of ginger to warm your legs.

“…Sun Wukong, remove yourself from my lap this-“

“Aw, peaches! How can you be so mean to lil’ ol me? I just wanna spend some time with my favorite lawyer!”

“I am your only lawyer, because no one else can put up with your nonsense!”

“That’s what makes you so special to me, peaches.”

It’s a statement that manages to be vulnerable through its own simplicity, straightforward and sincere. If you had been standing, perhaps your knees would have buckled in surprise.

But you can’t, because Sun Wukong is splayed across you with all the might of a warrior, a king, a bogus immortal. He nestles closer, nearly purring in delight with each rub from his cheeks to your thighs.

One hand, clawed and built strong- sharply moves to grip at your wrist. Though you futilely try to pull away, he effortlessly yanks it to his head.

“Pet me,” he whines. “Please, peaches…?”

You pause, and consider the request. The relationship you share is already unprofessional, bordering on unhealthy at both ends. His obsessive nature comes through frequently enough…

The king barges in on your meetings with other clients to ruin them. He nuzzles your suits and dresses against himself until they bear his scent. He wards off friends and family alike- by being so exuberant and “accidentally” destructive that they fearfully retreat.

And you’ve allowed it this long, haven’t you? You could’ve left, or rejected him, or at least told him to stop… but no such words had ever left your lips.

And now that Wukong had settled into the routine that you allowed him to build, it felt like a wall, a cage, a web all around you.

Which brick to pull? Which bar to rattle? Which thread to cut?

This constrainment had built itself high, feeling like an ever-present gilded collar tight around your throat.

Shelter. Food. Money. Love.

He provided it all and more without hesitation- and all you had to do was play along, to some small degree. He could take rebuffs and insults and discouragement, could sit with a wagging tail through your lectures, could handle you kicking him out of your bed every night…

And he’d still come back for more.

You lower your hand to Wukong’s forehead. Under the fur, there’s a deep indent- it feels like a band once sat there. He perks, eagerly pressing his head upwards to savor the touch.

This is all you have to do. This earns you your room, your pay, your food and drink… more than any of your services as a lawyer, or your fervent legal defense of his character…

All that really matters to him is you, your time and attention.

You pet his head. He purrs.

In time, he’s sure that you’ll love him as much as he loves you.

And he has all the time in the world to wait for it.

[bumbled-bees]

Lily's Lies and Revisionist History Part II: The Patterns

Lily’s lies and hypocrisy follow consistent, predictable patterns that she applies across different situations. She uses these tactics to maintain control over her narrative, discredit critics, and manipulate her audience.

1. Constant Contradictions and Retconning

Lily frequently changes her story depending on the situation. She doesn’t just contradict herself over long periods—sometimes, her inconsistencies happen within days or even hours.

Stockholm: First, she wrote it. Then, she didn’t. Then, it was people attaching her name to it. Then, maybe she did, but it doesn’t matter. Then, she didn’t again. She constantly shifts the narrative depending on which version is most convenient at the time.

Tara Callie: At first, Lily maintained that Tara was a real person. Then, when pressed, she claimed Tara went to prison. Then, Tara supposedly had child pornography (a bizarrely convenient claim, given Lily’s own allegations). Then, Lily said she physically attacked Tara in prison… despite not being in prison herself. None of this is verifiable.

Joon the King’s video: She claimed it didn’t bother her and wasn’t important, but since its release, she’s been spiraling, acting more aggressive, and contradicting herself even more often. She’s lost thousands of subscribers and isn’t gaining new ones, but she refuses to acknowledge that it’s had any effect.

2. “If I Say It, It’s True”

Lily behaves as though her word alone is evidence. She makes bold claims, provides no proof, and expects people to believe her unconditionally. If someone asks for evidence, she dismisses them or accuses them of bad faith.

Courtney’s SA accusations: Lily has not provided any counter-evidence—just blanket denials. Instead, she’s tried to DARVO the situation and claim Courtney abused her. She expects people to take her word as fact while dismissing Courtney’s testimony outright.

Accusing all critics of transphobia: Many of her critics are LGBT+ and respect her pronouns. But she repeats the lie that all her critics are transphobic so often that her audience believes it.

The “edited case files” excuse: If nobody can find her case files, she claims they were erased. If files contradict her, she claims they were edited against her out of spite. She creates an excuse that makes it impossible for her to ever be proven wrong.

3. Projecting Her Own Behaviors onto Others

Lily accuses others of the exact things she does herself. She shifts blame onto her critics, making them look like the ones engaging in bad behavior.

Lily deletes evidence, then accuses others of lacking proof. She’s infamous for mass-deleting her own posts and videos when they make her look bad. Then, when critics call her out, she demands “proof,” knowing full well she erased it.

She claims her enemies are obsessed stalkers… while watching and responding to everything they do. Lily refers to her critics as “stalkers” who archive everything she says—but she watches their spaces, reads their messages, and responds to them constantly.

She calls other people manipulative while using blatant manipulation tactics. She cultivates a vulnerable audience (abuse victims, LGBT+ folks, neurodivergent people) and then uses their emotions to keep them loyal. But if anyone else calls this out, she accuses them of manipulation.

4. Moving the Goalposts & Shifting Standards

Lily never holds herself to the same standards she expects from others. She changes the rules depending on what benefits her most.

She demands extreme evidence from her critics but provides none herself. She dismisses people’s evidence against her (like Britt’s chat logs from “Tara Callie”), but when making her own accusations, she doesn’t provide any proof.

She claims to support nuance but has an extreme black-and-white mindset. She insists she’s willing to consider different perspectives, but in reality, you’re either with her or against her. Anyone who disagrees, even slightly, is an enemy.

5. Creating Unfalsifiable Defenses

Lily frequently sets up excuses that can’t be disproven—meaning she can always claim she’s right, no matter what.

“The caseworker edited my records!” If someone ever finds contradictory evidence, she can just say the files were falsified. If the records don’t exist, she can say they were erased. Either way, she wins.

“I was just baiting my stalkers!” When her incest game folder was exposed, she claimed she was messing with critics. But her initial reaction showed she was caught off guard. If nobody noticed, she would’ve never addressed it.

“I don’t even go by Lily anymore!” She claims she hasn’t used “Lily” in months, but slips up and calls herself Lily on stream all the time. If people call her out, she insists it was just a habit.

6. Discrediting Former Allies to Control the Narrative

Anyone who leaves Lily’s circle becomes an immediate target for smearing.

Ex-fans and former friends are suddenly painted as liars, manipulators, and leakers. People who were once respected members of her community are rewritten as untrustworthy the moment they distance themselves.

Lily’s lost fans before due to her behavior, but she always reframes it as petty drama. Instead of acknowledging any deeper reasons for why people leave, she insists they were just bitter about something trivial.

Joon was just a “drama YouTuber” even before his video dropped. Lily preemptively primed her audience to ignore Joon’s video before it was even released—because she knew what was coming.

Final Takeaway

Lily’s biggest strength is that her audience doesn’t question her. She doesn’t need to be consistent or truthful because she’s surrounded by people who take everything she says at face value. But for anyone looking in from the outside—her patterns are obvious.

[libidinee]

pre! riddler ed nygma dating hcs <3

tws. none! requests open!

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who's just the sweet guy you work with. Wide smile and squinted eyes that popped up every couple of minutes to make convenient small talk with you. Either he forgot some evidence- or he would tell you that your hair looks wonderful today, or of course a riddle.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who actually gets to talk! Instead of being rudely interrupted or heavily discouraged by the eyeballs of his co-workers. You actually.. listen. You nodded along and asked questions, your remembered!! Sometimes he gets too excited and he stutters and stumbles over his quick words. And god, that sweet smile that made him fall in love with you.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who knows he's in love with you the moment he sees you. Actually he knows when he lays down in bed that night. Hes actually giggling in bed thinking about you. He's so eager to go to sleep, when tomorrow comes quicker he can see you.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who brings you your lunch, grabs papers for you, open the doors for you and even sometimes ties your shoes.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who kissed you for the first time after you both stay late one day. No one.. but maybe captain is here, your just staying back doing some extra filing, and he's having a lab clean out, its gotten really messy and he just couldn't focus today. You popped in to say goodnight, and you give him that sweet smile. It felt.. natural. You leaned over, kissed his cheek goodnight, before wishing him goodbye. And he liked it.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who stands there stunned for like 10 minutes, his cheeks burning to the point he's gotten sick and has a terrible fever. But no hesitation just.. flustered.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who's immediately by your side the next day. Its a crime scene today, your standing by, and he's bagging evidence and biohazards material (really just some flesh), and as soon as he's done he's talking to you. Its open, he spends his lunch break with you, no matter if your on yours, he'll just stand by your desk.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who asks you out the next day. A bouquet of flowers, a dorky card with what each flower means, and he says it's all for you. He'll get you a little card and everything, and he'll invite you over for dinner.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma whose nervous to get into the relationship, not that he doesn't trust you! Hes just.. he never thought he'd really do this. I mean everyone in the Department looked at him like he was a freak, but here you are.. willingly hanging out with him, WILLINGLY DATING HIM!!

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who immediately has pictures of you up in his apartment. You come by one day and he has you two framed on his nightstand, it's sweet. Its is a nice frame and clean as a whistle, like he just wiped it off.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who spends late nights with you, rewatching old tv and chatting about the world. You provide such.. wonderful insight. He loved looking into your mind, it was like glimpsing into you in your raw form.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who makes you breakfast every morning!!! You stayed the night, and you woke up to his goofy little muppet smile and an excited 'I made you an omelette! And toast, and a little bit of eggs but I ran out halfway so like barely half an egg-'

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who does anything you ask him. He'd move the heaven and earth to make you happy. He goes to every event with you, constantly is giving you gifts and taking you out on dates, sometimes it's like the honeymoon phase never ended.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who remembers every little thing you say. He knows your order from the coffee shop you guys go too, your mothers birthday, your favorite species of cat and exactly where that mole on your back was that he saw the other day while you were changing.