#And he has a proper garden now! I'll never be over it this is all I've ever wanted ohmygod 🤗

[kindahoping4forever]

Two worlds collided and they could never, ever tear us apart

[tookhimtomypenthouse]

Hate Yourself - Chapter One

series warnings: female!reader x oliver quick, past/implied felix x oliver, dub-con, stalker behavior, voyeurism, degradation, dacryphilia, bloodplay, gaslighting, manipulation, untagged story elements (the warnings aren't exhaustive!), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT bbgirl

summary: you’re hired as a maid after Oliver comes to own Saltburn, and find your employer to be very invested in your work

minors dni!

Your palms felt sweaty as you gripped your bags, staring into the massive gates of the mansion. You were tempted to turn around and run as the grandiosity of the building overwhelmed you. It felt like the iron jaws of the gate could open and eat you at any moment. Your torment was short-lived, however, as the creaky gates opened as you nudged them forward. Just beyond the courtyard, imposing wood doors awaited. Gravel crunched underfoot as you made your way over to them. Just before you could knock upon the doors, they swung open to reveal a graying, stern man.

"Welcome to Saltburn, miss." The man gives you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You must be the new housekeeper?"

"Yes, that would be me," you laugh awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. 

"Lovely to meet you. My name is Duncan, head butler. Anthony will take your bags to your quarters. Come, and I'll show you around the grounds." You set your bags down and hurry after Duncan, who, despite his age, has a considerable stride. 

Each room in the house seemed grander than the next. The soft autumn sunlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the formal dining room. Sheer red curtains floated elegantly to the sides, fluttering as you swished by. 

"Wow," you breathe out as you catch a glimpse of the massive garden. You can't help but gape at the massive hedges that seem to form a huge wall of green or at the multiple elegant fountains spraying in the air. "The grounds are so beautiful."

Duncan casts a fleeting glance through the window and continues on with the tour. Your head spins as you try to remember all the rooms and build a mental map of the estate, but the rooms seem to never stop coming. You are lost in the task when you finally arrive in the master bedroom.

"Here is the master bedroom," Duncan says, startling you out of your trance. The room is grand, with large wooden furniture and sumptuous fabrics and paintings. The closet door is ajar, revealing a closet full of crisp suits and hanging shirts without a single wrinkle. Expensive ties are neatly tucked into an organizer above a row of pristine dress shoes. "Sir Oliver is particular about how this room is made up, but Lyuba will teach you the specifics later."

You give him a nod, soaking in the finery and sheer wealth of this place. It's a far cry from the squatty brick council house you grew up in. The momentary thought of home makes your eyes prickle. You push the thought away and follow Duncan as he continues. Tears won't help you navigate the maze that is Saltburn. 

~

You flop into your bed with a deep sigh. The rest of the day passed so quickly as Lyuba, the woman whose job you were taking over, taught you the ins and outs of the job. When you close your eyes, you swear you can still see towels and sheets being folded. Lyuba was impressed at the speed at which you picked up the proper technique for all the linens, but you were no match for her practiced hands. It would take some time before you perfectly replace the experienced housekeeper. No use worrying about it now, you thought as you slipped towards sleep. The room you had in the servant's quarter of the estate was still larger than any you'd ever stayed in.

Right before sleep could overtake you, you heard a loud creaking sound. Icy fear flooded into your chest as you bolted upright. Your eyes weren't adjusted to the room's darkness, but it didn't stop you from frantically peering into the dark for the source. Through the shadows, you couldn't make out anything specific. After a few moments, you noticed that your door was open a crack. Did I leave it open? You aren't sure if you did. Your furiously pounding heart starts to slow, and you rise out of bed to close it. It is an old house, right? Surely some shifting floorboards or creaking of the structure caused the sound. Must've forgotten to shut the door, too. You chided yourself for getting so worked up over the noise. Fears soothed, you climbed back into bed and dozed off.

~

"Not so much water," warned Lyuba as you went to lift the mop out of the bucket. You quickly wrung the mophead out a bit more before starting on the tiled floor. You and Lyuba cleaned one of the guest bathrooms mostly in silence, only interrupted when she caught a mistake you were making. You turn to see Lyuba's snowy white bun bobbing in time with her careful movements. The older woman was only going to stay to teach you until the end of the week before she embarked on her retirement. You were at first shocked to find she was the only maid for the sprawling estate, but you quickly realized why.

This place is a fucking ghost town.

It had been three days since your arrival, but you had only glimpsed the owner of this place a handful of times. He was the only actual resident, not counting the help. Oliver Quick was his name, according to Duncan. You were debating whether to ask Lyuba more or let the mystery about the man of the house linger.

Curiosity won.

"Lyuba," you started cautiously, "what is the owner like?" You notice her movement halt with your question.

"Why?" Her response comes almost as an accusation. She turns fully to face you, and her face searches yours carefully. 

"Oh, I just was wondering because I've hardly seen him," you reply, unsure of how to respond.

Lyuba shuffles close to you until you are nearly touching. She gently grabs your wrist. "Strange. Be careful, girl," she whispers in a gentle tone. "I worked for the family before him," she continues, hushed and serious as the grave, "and then he swoops in and inherits that place." She drops your wrist and stares into your eyes intently. "Practically a stranger when he-"

"Hello." You and Lyuba jump as you see a man leaning against the doorframe.

"H-hi," you stutter, taken by surprise. His eyes meet yours, and you're drawn in by the shocking blueness of them.

"My name is Oliver," he offers, "and you must be Lyuba's replacement?" A small smile makes its way across his face. 

"Yes," you breathe out and offer him your name. Your surprise at being interrupted fades, and you finally take him in. He wears a fine button-down shirt and slacks, his hair combed back without a single strand out of place. You suddenly feel shabby in your black uniform dress and messy hair. You flick your wet hands behind your back to try and appear more together. His unnerving gaze has you self-conscious.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm sure Lyuba has taught you all you need to know." His eyes dart to her briefly but soon return to you. He stretches in the doorway, and you can't help but see the muscles of his arms under the thin cotton of the shirt. "It's nice to have a new face around."

"Ah," you splutter, face hot. "I'm sure it is." You can't help but feel skittish as he watches you return to your work. He'd always made himself scarce before today, so his presence feels overwhelming so near to you.

"We have much to do," cuts in Lyuba, her annoyance clear, "and we need to finish, sir." She turns her back to him and returns to her cleaning. 

"Of course," replies Oliver, lifting his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Don't stop on my account. I wouldn't dare interrupt her training." He backs out of the bathroom, but not before throwing you a small wink. 

You shake your head and return to your work. Lyuba's hushed condemnation and Oliver's surprise entrance have you cleaning in silence. You could practically taste the animosity between the two of them but get the sense you won't get much more out of Lyuba today. Instead, you pass the day with the gnawing feeling that you're missing something very important.

[bahrtofane]

after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers. 

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it 

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion. 

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones. 

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones. 

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance. 

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

 going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city. 

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense. 

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener. 

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here. 

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about. 

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy. 

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family. 

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so. 

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha. 

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum. 

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck. 

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter. 

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy. 

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble. 

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (13)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: My hand was the one you reached for

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Stockholm Syndrome, infidelity, manipulative Aegon, discussion of character death. Smut, fingering, using murder as dirty talk, hand job, public sex.

Aemma's coin has finally flipped, but where will it land? Greatness or madness?

Tag list: @callsignwidow

You aren't sure how or when it happened, but it's as though something inside you snapped, slowly but surely shifted your love and loyalty from your mother to Aegon. All your plans, all the playing pretend melted away until it became your reality. When did that happen? When did you become so pathetic? Was it the abject horror of seeing Aemond loving another woman in Harrenhal? Or were you always this weak?

"You seem deep in thought." Aegon looks down at you, head tilted slightly so that the rubies of the Conqueror's crown glitter in the sunlight.

"I suppose," you respond dully.

He hums in annoyance before looking away abruptly. You aren't sure why he insists on walking with you through the gardens, but it was the one reprieve he allowed after your escape. You're kept under a smothering watch at all times now except for when Aegon fetches you for your daily walk. He never lets you go with guards. It has to be him, and you just don't understand it.

Annoyance rises in you, bitter and dark. "I don't understand!"

"What don't you understand?"

Lots of things. You don't understand lots of things, but you don't want to discuss the complicated relationship between the two of you, so you say, "You told Aemond to seduce the witch. Why? Why would you do that?"

Aegon tosses his head back and laughs. "Is that what the bastard told you? And he says I'm the degenerate one."

"Aegon, this isn't the time for jokes. I want the truth." You turn to him fully and he's struck suddenly by the fire in your eyes. It's been so long since he's seen it he thought you'd given up your spark completely.

But of course not.

Of course your fire is still there because his is still there.

Aegon still burns every second of every day for you. The two of you are the last flickering twin flames of Old Valeyria, meant to merge together and raze down everything standing in its way. He loves you, desires you, needs you more than Aemond possibly could.

"You want the truth, my little dragon?" He steps closer to you, following as you move away from him. "I'll give you the truth, but I want you to remember that it was I to do so... not Aemond."

You suck in a deep breath, overwhelmed by Aegon's presence crowding you against a tree. Rough bark bites into your exposed back and arms. Suddenly, the gauzy dress you chose this morning doesn't feel like it covers enough.

"Aemond would never lie to me," you eventually say.

"I see. Is that why he blamed me? All I told him was to keep the witch loyal to us. I don't give a single fuck about her happiness or comfort... but Aemond does, doesn't he?" Aegon traces his thumb across your bottom lip before continuing.

"Let me guess: he told you not to worry and that she could never compare. I've told Helaena the same about my whores. I suppose, in a round about way, it's the truth. She's kinder than them, more of a proper lady. She deserves better."

You want to strike out at Aegon, your palm itches for it, but you stay still. He pets you so gently, running his hands over your body in a comforting way that brings tears to your eyes. You want to ask him why he doesn't give her better if she deserves it, but you already know the answer.

You.

Aegon has spent years pining over you, spiraling when you were taken away like some sort of toy. He's a spoiled brat. You love him anyway... but you love Aemond as well.

"Is love enough?" Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

"Enough for what?"

"Anything." For Aemond to be loyal, but you don't say it out loud.

Aegon knows what you want to say, but won't say. He knows you better than anyone. Maybe even better than you know yourself. "Love is enough for us if you'll allow it."

Your lips curl up in a wry smile. "You're being awfully sweet today, Your Majesty."

"Maybe it's because I see where my brother is failing and I decided I need to take this chance."

"Failing on your orders."

"Not my orders. I never told him to fuck her, but we both know that's what he's doing." Aegon presses his lips to yours, hot and persistent. "Don't you want revenge, little dragon?"

Yes.

Yes, you do want revenge.

You want blood and revenge and for this foreign anger inside you to end.

Aegon's lips trail from your lips to the column of your neck, teeth sinking into your skin every so often while his hands grip your waist. He grinds into you and you feel the delicious drag of his hard cock between your thighs. "I have plenty of information from the witch. So much that her life means nothing to me now. You could kill her if you wanted."

Kill her?

"H-have you ever killed anyone?" The idea makes you nervous, but it's hard to concentrate on those nerves when Aegon's hands are slowly bunching your dress around your waist.

"Yes. Would you like to hear about it?" He nips at your ear, chuckling darkly when you yelp. Two of his fingers circle your clit before dipping into your cunt and he moans when he finds you absolutely soaking wet.

You nod, letting out a little whimper. "Yes... please..."

"Mmm, good girl." Aegon pumps his fingers in and out of you at a punishing pace. "It's better than any drunken high, any fuck... it's... ah, fuck, yes..."

Aegon's head falls to your shoulder when your hand slips inside his trousers to stroke his length. You wrap a leg around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes against your skin. "Such a good little whore for me. D'you like this? Like me fucking you in public?"

You do. You really, really do.

"Say it," he demands, wrapping a hand around your throat. "Say how much you like it."

"Aegon... please... I love it."

"Say you love me."

You nod. "I love you!"

Aegon's grin is almost terrifying when he says, "I want to watch you kill Alys Rivers."

The pleasure that had been building in the pit of your stomach crests and washes over the rest of you, leaving you to spasm around Aegon's thick fingers. He kisses you all over as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling into your hand.

"Good girl," Aegon whispers into your hair. "Fuck, you're so good for me. We need to remind Aemond how good you are, yeah?"

That's all you really want, you think to yourself. You just want to be good for the people who love you. That's all you ever wanted.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 18/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

I've really debated whether or not I'll post this particular part today or do another mystery and have it revealed in a flashback or something.

But then I said nah I'll give it now so you all can enjoy!

Very dialogue heavy.

I appreciate again your reblogs, likes, and very especially, your comments. Something about seeing your reactions or theories motivates me even more. Nothing says writer's pleasure like the suffering of their readers <3

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

Once upon a time, all Lucifer wanted was to create and be happy. To love and be loved just the same. Being the Angel of Creation and Humility, his Father often sought his counsel regarding the first creations. He was affectionately called 'my Morning Star' by his Father, reminding him that he will be the first light His creations shall see.

When tasked with guarding the Garden, he embraced that duty wholeheartedly. But with Adam's growing ego and Lilith's festering defiance, he could feel himself struggling. He had tried so hard to make it comfortable for the both of them but it was never enough. The only reason Lilith stayed in the Garden for as long as she did was because Lucifer refused to leave right away.

Lucifer: It's my duty, Lily!

That's what he had said. He loved Lilith but he was still very much afraid of what repercussions his Father may give for his disobedience.

Then comes Eve.

Eve was a lovely girl. She's Lilith but softer. She's Adam but kinder. But she has no free will. Adam treated her like a maid and she took it all with a graceful smile.

And well, you know what happened next.

An apple. A sin. A trial. A fall. Darkness. Fire. He wants to get outOUTOUTOUTOUT!-

A makeshift table with 2 chairs appear in between him and Roo. The Root of All Evil moves to sit and motions for him to join her. Lucifer hesitates but follows.

Roo: See, dear fallen, your old man damaged me enough that I can't get my original form to heal like it was before. And just when I was recuperating my power, you and your sinful lot sealed me! Low blow, by the way. Thanks yo you, my vessel is truly destroyed.

Lucifer: That's why you take on these forms?

Roo: Yoou got it! I can show you what I originally looked like but it's merely confined in this space. Like every caged animal, I crave freedom. Freedom I am not willing to have without a proper vessel.

She giggles as Lucifer's expression dawns in realization.

Lucifer: You... want me? As your vessel?

Roo: Yup!

Lucifer: But- Why?

Roo: Consider it an investment! Why, I can't think of anyone better to powerful enough to control Hell and dear enough to hold against Heaven.

It was Lucifer's turn to scoff.

Lucifer: Hold against Heaven? I don't have any value to the people up there. I am no longer an angel?

Roo had to put a hand in her mouth to prevent her from laughing too much again.

Roo: Naive, little fallen. You really think that?

Lucifer: I know that! Or did you forget that I was exiled into this god awful pit?!

Roo: Ah. But that's all, isn't it?

Lucifer: I- huh?

Roo: Your angelic status is all that they took from you, no? And this place is merely a change of office. You still answer to Heaven, whether you admit it or not. You still watch over humanity, albeit the worst ones. And most importantly, you were not stripped of your heavenly powers. You know why? Because you-

She boops his forehead and it took all of his willpower not to bite her finger off.

Roo: -are God's little favorite.

Lucifer: That's not true.

Roo: Yes it is. Tell me, Lucifer. If God was to punish you for the greatest Sin ever committed, why leave you with power to rule it? If that was you, wouldn't you take away all of their being and leave them to rot in the very bottom of the grave they dug themselves? Why would I cast them out them make them rule it? That's just absurd.

Lucifer: You're speaking nonsense.

Roo: Am I? The old man obviously loved you enough to let you keep your divine powers. He probably could not stand the thought of His beloved son suffering at the hands of some lowly human souls.

The Sin of Pride wants to rebuke but can't get the words out. He always did wonder why he still had his wings, why he could still create, why he was made the King.

'Was it really your love, Father?'

He shakes his head and leaves that thought. He may not be at the bottom of the food chain, that doesn't change the fact that he did not, is not suffering.

Lucifer: And you think saying all that will make me give your reign on my body?

Roo: Of course not! But you asked and I gave my answer.

Lucifer: And what happens if I say yes?

Roo: Not a matter of if, fallen. I know you will.

Lucifer: I need you to be more specific.

Roo: Insurance. We already established that you do not have anything else to trap me with and I'd be more than happy to consume all of Hell. It will be a nice snack before my comeback. So, really, what other choice do you have?

Lucifer: I am not just going to let you use my body to get out of here and destroy Hell another way!

Roo: Woah! Who said I'll be destroying Hell? I just want a vessel so I can explore! Plus, as soon as I enter your body, your little Ring would be back to normal.

She produces a golden contract out of the blue and lays it down for Lucifer to see.

Roo: So, let's make a deal.

Lucifer: No.

Roo: Hush. Let me finish. I get my vessel and I won't touch a single thing in Hell anymore. Your body will act as my new "container" by which, until your demise, will remain yours.

Wait.

Lucifer: What? My demise?

Roo: Yup!

Lucifer: I'm immortal. If we go through with this, you'll never see the light of day again.

This is too good to be true. Not only will Roo be sealed for good but then Hell will safe. So why-

Roo: Then what's the fuss? You trap me forever and with you being immortal, won't even have to think about the other end of the bargain. Fun, right?!

Lucifer: No. What are you not telling me? Why after my 'death'? Is something going to happen that will permanently kill me?

She just gave him a menacing smiles.

Roo: Time is relevant, fallen. There will always be slips and an ancient being like myself, I'm bound to see something in between.

Lucifer: Quit being cryptic!

He is at his wits end. The longer he stays here the worse it gets outside!

Roo: Let me put down the basics of this offer then: I get my vessel and I'll stop this little party trick of mine. I will reside inside you until your 'hypothetical death' by which I'll claim all your being, powers and all. I'll even throw in a sweet deal of letting you keep your soul or have you give it to whoever you wish.

Lucifer: .....

Lucifer: I want to add conditions.

Roo: Be my guest~

Lucifer: In the aftermath of my death, you will do everything in your power to protect Hell and its people against anyone or anything that puts it in danger as long as you reside in my body. That means I also prevent you from leaving this vessel for another to get out of that clause.

Roo: Wonderful-

Lucifer: Hold on. I'm not done. Since you said that you do not wish to have property of my soul, you are to give it to Charlotte Morningstar. She will also ascend as acting ruler of Hell upon my death, not you. But you get to keep being the most powerful demon in Hell.

Roo: Hmmm. Sounds fair. I like those odds, my friend. So-

Roo holds out her glowing red hand. She no longer wore Charlie's face but instead she is now a blob of shadows and eyes. Lucifer has to narrow his eyes to prevent him from being blinded.

Roo: It's a deal then?

Lucifer can already feel Roo's energy inching inside him

Lucifer: Deal.

A handshake. A drop of blood. And a binding contract.

The game is set.

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

Holy shit?? This was so long??

Fun fact: this was one of the scenes I wanted to do in my first AU post, the radioapple one with Lilith and Eve. But this is more fitting here now.

ENJOYYY

please leave what you think!

If there are some changes then it's me proofreading it after posting a;sdkla

[xcerizex]

"The vacancy of your eyes is a curse."

3.3k words, angst, contains spoilers for the main story, cael anselm, horrible attempt at minor fluff, how do you do tags and stuff???

Day #36:

The morning sunlight is bright on his skin as Cael does the laundry in the garden. Flinging the bedsheets up, he then drapes them across the wire, after all the sheets need to be dried before tonight so that she can get a good night sleep. Unfortunately, she won't be able to use the spares, not when it's been torn to the point where it's unusable.

He senses her gaze on him and shifts his position so that he can watch her discreetly and see her looking at him through the glass walls of her gallery pretending to paint. Having failed subtlety, she repeats the same strokes over and over again, creating an unusual blob of blue and white. Judging from the look on her face, it seems as if she wishes to talk to him again.

The wind picks up, and the white sheets whack him in the face, covering his sight. He doesn't need his eyes to see that the girl is giggling at his predicament and he wonders how on earth she finds his suffering a source of amusement.

'If it makes her happy.'

He quickly finishes the rest of the laundry and heads inside, ready for the girl to pounce on him the moment he steps back into the house and sure enough, she approaches him as he places his shoes down on the floor.

"Are you planning on doing the groceries soon, Cael?"

She pretends as if she were simply asking him out of curiosity, but he knows better. Noticing the way her feet fidget, he smiles at her and nods his head.

"Yes, I am. I'll be here for an hour or two before I leave, so I'm not in any rush."

"Then..."

She holds up a box of new paint he had gotten for her and asks him eagerly;

"Can we paint together?"

He smiles serenely. He notices that she has started to paint less in her time here despite not having much else to do. So he agrees, it's best if she picks up the brush again, and he wants to spend some time with her anyway.

"Alright then, let's head to your gallery."

After moving a new set of blank canvas for Cael into the gallery, the both of them start to paint side-by-side, and a tranquil silence falls across them. They have never needed idle talk to feel comfortable with one another once they start painting, and in a way, Cael is glad he doesn't have to force himself to act as her guardian during these moments, where time passes like the wind.

Right now, it's just him, Cael, and the girl whose existence has made him spiral to a deep end he can't get out of.

He hears her choking on her paint water again, startling him out of his thoughts. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he hands her a clean handkerchief and a proper glass of water to clear her throat. While wiping her mouth, she wheezes a hoarse "Thank you" before finally calming down and resuming her painting. Next time, he hopes that she'll learn to separate the glass that holds her paint water, and the one that holds her drinking water at opposite ends the next time.

However, years of spending time with her has made him acutely aware of what her next course of action may be. So it doesn't surprise him when she takes the shift in mood as an opportunity to nonchalantly ask him;

"Can I...join you later? To do the groceries?"

Her voice is still slightly hoarse as she says this, and as if afraid it won't be enough to convince him, she adds;

"It's just, wouldn't it be easier if the both of us carried the load, instead of just you? I can help you and I won't stray away-"

He places his brush aside on the easel and despite placing it down as gently as he could, the sound of it rings loudly like a bell, as she immediately falls silent. Her response is like a whip to the heart, lashing and cracking an irreparable crevice and he doesn't know why. But she does not back down and stares into his eyes after his gaze finds her.

"I understand that you wish to go out. But it is dangerous." He says, making sure he speaks gently to appear as affable as possible.

"The trip to the main island is full of danger. Those who wish to capture and hurt you may take the chance to do so."

Standing up, he moves forward towards her until their faces are only a few inches apart. He feels the tremble of her breath on his mouth while he, softly, lightly, rests his fingertips on the area under her eyes.

He doesn't remember ever coming this close to her before...this, and the proximity makes him feel slightly giddy.

He feels sick.

"It is better for me to protect you here, than endanger you by letting you go outside."

He hopes to convince her by emphasizing about the possible dangers. But in their proximity, their eyes find each other and it is not he who wears the heavy stare. It is her. She gazes at him and for the first time since he's brought her here, he sees something else that is not the hue of hopelessness in her eyes that haunts both him and her even when she's smiling. It is an emotion he cannot recognize.

Acquiescing to his desires, she nods her head.

"Yes...Cael. I'm sorry to have bothered you again with this."

She excuses herself, abandoning her painting as she exits the gallery claiming she needed some alone time and he lets her go. At the moment, he has no heart to chase after her and offer comfort. The unease he feels in his chest roots him on the spot and he wonders about the way she looked at him.

There is a sinking feeling in his gut, telling him it was not his words that had convinced her.

What did she see?

He fears the answer.

You coward.

Day #122:

She has begun to hide her emotions from him now.

Placing a plate of strawberry toast on the table, Cael turns his head towards the kitchen door to find her entering the room. Her steps are slow and heavy, but retain their daintiness and mimic the footsteps of a doll.

She draws a chair back and sits down. It's early in the morning and as usual, Cael makes breakfast for her. He greets her with a practiced smile.

"Good morning, I'll be preparing some black tea shortly. The strawberry toast won't turn cold just yet, so it's fine if you want to wait until then."

She nods her head quietly and whispers "Thank you, Cael", before she starts staring out at the window.

He frowns inwardly to himself as he turns towards the teapot. Strawberry toast had always been her favourite. Knowing her, she would have long scarfed down her food regardless if the tea was ready or not.

Does he really not understand why however? He does. And yet, he stays in denial. Knowing that the moment he wakes up from this dream, it will tear him apart with no mercy. It will break him.

"!"

He hears a clatter on the floor and turns around to see that she has dropped her butter knife and now sports a cut of scarlet red. Alarmed, he rushes over to her, forgoing the most practical solution of immediately finding a bandage in favor of taking her hand in his and pressing his handkerchief to the wound. For some reason, his time here with her has eroded him of his logic and has now turned him into someone who breaks out in cold sweat over a mere injury.

"...What happened?"

But if it's her who was hurt, then it's not just a mere injury to him. That was enough to send him into a frenzy. He looks up at her face hoping she'd answer him already but freezes.

When humans feel pain, it is common for them to react in kind. Be it a shift in facial expression or an outburst of sound.

But looking into her face, he finds nothing. Sees nothing. Blank eyes stare back at him expressing nothing and everything.

Regardless of her time here, she should still be susceptible to the average human response towards an injury. Simply put;

She does not want to share her pain with him.

She is fearful of you.

Cold silence fills the room and Cael thinks about the time they've spent painting in the gallery together, silently sharing their feelings amidst the soundless interactions. He bites his bottom lip before standing up and walking towards the cupboard containing bandages.

"...I dropped my knife on accident. It won't happen again, Cael."

"..."

"Cael?"

There is a tinge of worry in her voice.

He finds a box of plasters hidden in the corner of the cupboard and grabs it with unnecessary force before returning to her.

Will saying her name right now scare her more than reassure her?

Bending down, he starts applying a small bandage to her cut.

"Please..." he murmurs.

He has no right to feel afraid of her reaction. He was the one that turned her into this after all.

But he still keeps his head down. Refuses to look at her vacant face once more even as he continues speaking.

"...please be more careful."

Maybe he could still have her like this.

"I will, Cael. So..."

She cups his face with her hands, with a touch softer than he could ever hope to mimic with ones as bloodstained as his own, and holds his face up to look at him properly.

She smiles the best she can. It's hollow like all the rest before, but it is kind. The way she always is towards him even now.

"...don't worry."

"..."

"If seeing me hurt makes you this upset, it won't happen again."

Like the ghost of a whisper, he hears the silent continuation of her words;

I just don't have to show it.

While most birds avoid human abodes, a little one enters through an open window in search of food. Sensing no predators around, it jumps inside.

Day #???:

She has decided to completely lock herself in her room. Only occasionally coming out for meals when she feels like it, or to go to the gallery and stare at the open sky.

And Cael...

Cael doesn't know what to do anymore.

He tries his best to coax her, of course. Offers her new paints, albums featuring her favourite singers, and cooks the different types of food she would always ask him to make back when he took care of her when her mother died.

But she is not the young child who once poured dish soap into the washing machine anymore. She has grown and matured. Saw his wrongs, and the monster he is. None of his efforts will work on her anymore. She is a grown women, not a teenager.

Initially, he thought that he would be able to keep her here despite the fact she had the capability to leave and thought so long as he sheltered her from the outside world and took her away to Neverland, she could still find happiness and comfort in this small bubble he's built for her.

But he never thought that...this would become something he couldn't fix. He thought he could fix anything.

"...It's time for lunch."

Knocking on her door, he hopes that the allure of the pasta he holds in his hands will be enough to bring her out of her room. But minutes pass and once again he has no choice but to resign himself to the fact that she won't be coming out of her room today either. Still, it's not good for her to continuously skip meals. She may die of malnutrition if she doesn't eat properly.

The very thought makes him shudder with fear and he has to hold himself back from pleading with her again like the last time. The plate in his hand trembles with his slight movements however, and he has to straighten himself properly lest her food falls down on to the floor.

He recalls the time he offered her a handmade pastry, something that he thought she would have jumped at eagerly even with her current state, in an attempt to pry her out of her room. But it had been days since she'd last eaten and desperation had gotten the better of him.

He still remembers everything with clarity.

With his head hanging down and his hair unfurling limply from his shoulders, the pastry he held on a plate fell to the floor with a loud clatter, with his hands having lost their strength for some unknown reason. When did he lose control of his own body? But what he does know is that his whole being feels hollow. And for the first time in days, she finally opens her door. Aggressively so. A loud bang resounds across the house as she slams it open and such a violent outburst makes him raise his head in surprise and he finds her staring down at him with her vacant eyes and the features of her face having twisted with worry again.

He feels a knife twisting in his chest. He thinks it might kill him.

But he ignores the pain, ignores the impulse to plunge his hand into his chest and physically rip out that lump of pain, and uses his hands instead to embrace her.

It is sudden and quick, startling her. But she slowly relaxes in his trembling hold and moves her hands to pat his back awkwardly.

"Cael?"

"..."

Again, he finds himself unable to respond to her. She continues talking.

"I'll come down to eat, alright? I'm sorry I made you worry."

Pulling back, she faces him and gives him what should have been a smile of assurance to put him at ease. But he knows that stretching the corners of the mouth does not make a real smile. He does not love that smile.

The worse part is? He still finds her so, so lovely.

"It won't happen again."

She tries to voice it confidently, to be sincere about it, because she knows that will be the only way to convince him. And just for a split second, he sees the ghost of her, smiling back up at him in exuberant joy, and watches it all melt away to bones like a burning candle in the same second.

How many times has he heard her say that?

How many times will her make her say that?

He's grown nauseous of it.

She stayed true to her word, for the next few weeks only anyway, having retreated back into her habit once more to Cael's misery.

Placing the plate in front of her door, he can only hope that she would come out of her own accord today. While he knows that he could simply convince her to come out of her room the way he did last time...

The thought of doing so makes him shudder with disgust. Knowing that he can affect her like that to such a disturbing degree, gives him an itch he can't scratch off no matter how hard he tries. He hides it from himself well, but his palms still carry the faint scars of a history of digging his nails too deep into his hands whenever that suffocating feeling comes back to haunt him.

He flexes his hands, to make sure he's not unconsciously doing it again.

He did.

Still, at least he's not bleeding this time. Marks as red as it could be, but not bleeding.

She bled.

Sighing, he accepts the fact she won't be leaving her room anytime soon and makes his way downstairs. He hears each and every step he takes a little too clearly, something that he has become accustomed to ever since she has stopped talking regularly. Or rather, ever since she came here. There was a time where being in the same space as her would bring a variety of noises, ranging from her loud caterwauling after having stubbed her toe, the sound of her footsteps banging against the floor as she runs across the house, or just....the sound of her being there.

And she was always there. She used to always be there.

He reaches the living room and a quick glance to the right brings the door of her gallery into view. Cael hesitates for a second, and another two, before making his way towards it. He doesn't know why, he could never understand his own impulses, but he's given up on trying to control them.

The door creaks open, an evidence of a long time gone by since it was installed, and Cael walks into the space of her gallery. Despite her no longer using it frequently, he made sure to keep the entire room clean. Dust is an annoying irritant, and something that would have disturbed her by constantly triggering her allergies, disrupting her focus as she painted.

He sees a canvas lying upright on the easel close by the windows, and the blue, white blob she had painted a while ago has now transformed into something else. He inches his way towards it after deciding to take a closer look, and feels a foreboding sense of trepidation for some unknown reason. Having always left her alone when she painted, he has never once seen the results of this one creative endeavour and wonders what sort of painting could she have possibly produced in this life of stagnation, where true inspiration has become a corpse.

Closing in, his eyes land on the painting...

And he sees himself.

He is standing on the coastline of Harp Island's beach as the waves rock back and forth against the rocks. By perfectly capturing the melancholy of the ocean, and coupled with the expression she drew on his portrait, the somber and gentle colours give off a hue of loneliness as he stares out towards the sky as if he were waiting for someone. And he...

He thinks he may die from the pain in his chest.

He grasps the area over his heart while gasping, as his ears ring from the words that bore down on him like cursed chants;

It's because of you.

She stays here because of you.

Wendy choose to stay with Peter Pan.

So that was what she saw.

You are lonely without her.

"I see."

You must let her go.

"I know that now."

Again and again, the whispers torment him with the truth, but he answers all of them with a mind clearer than ever before. There is no hesitation in his answers, only impatience.

Simply answering won't do after all, he must act on it.

Still, the entire ordeal leaves his mind in a frenzy and by the time he comes to his senses, Cael isn't sure just how much time has passed. He looks up at the painting again to see that the moon has risen, with it's benevolent light illuminating the gallery and the portrait.

He thought that her painting would have been a reflection of vacancy, but instead what he finds is the secret he has been denying for so long.

His heart still hurts, but looking at the lonely portrait before him, he finds that the hazy edges of his vision has cleared, and sees the consequences of his actions as clear as day. Similar to how one would clean the fog from their glasses.

Cael laughs bitterly to himself and clenches his fists as he stands up.

"This cannot go on."

If he lets her go now and admits his forbidden feelings, he may break.

But perhaps, he would rather be broken if it meant she could be fixed.

He makes up his mind.

"To Godheim it is."

First however, he must make sure she eats her dinner before she leaves him for good.

[itisme-rosie]

-- we'll be alright; marauders era!sirius black (x remus lupin) x reader

cw: angst no comfort, implied wolfstar, not proofread (?)

masterlist | rules

"so you'll accept his help and not mine?"

"he's my friend,"

"and i'm your girlfriend,"

"don't do that,"

"do what?" i burst, my arms thrown out in frustration, "you said to communicate more about the things that bother me, so i am, just like you wanted because god forbid i 'lose it' in front of your friends,"

sirius is quiet, running his hand down his face as he scans the living room, smiling sadly at james' family members as they retreat to the living room to give him and i space to talk properly.

"you," my chest heaves with a heavy sigh, "you expect so much of me, and yet you can't deliver the same expectations you demand of me. merlin, sirius, i just want you to talk to me about things the same way you do with your friends, i can't keep feeling like you walk around eggshells with me when it comes to talking about how you feel. losing james and lily hurts me too, but i can't talk about it with you because you shut me down everytime i try to," i inhale shakily, "and yet, with remus, you do it so effortlessly -"

"because he's my friend," sirius replies, a familiar hint of frustration pouring out of him, "there are things you won't understand, even if you're my girlfriend,"

"ex-girlfriend," i say firmly, the words leaving me before i could think about it fully, ignoring how sirius' eyes snapped up to look at me as i began to pack the small bag i brought with me to the potters' funeral service, swinging it over my shoulder.

"what?" he asks incredulously, "come on darling, let's talk about this,"

"i tried, sirius," i laugh humorlessly, "i tried talking about it with you so many times, and i'm tired,"

"darling, i -"

"i know, sirius," i stand in front of the back door, my hand on the knob and i stare at the intricate glass designs on the panes on the door, "i know about you and...remus,"

sirius is quiet for a while, and it's like i could hear the cogs turning in his head if i listened hard enough.

"whatever do you mean?" i hear his mutter weakly.

"he loves you, sirius, and i know you love him too, in ways i could only wish to understand," i look over my shoulder at him one last time, and out of the corner of my eye, i see remus - my dear friend, my poor, helpless friend that looked like he was about to collapse if he stayed to witness sirius and i's relationship crumble to the ground. i don't think he could bear losing another companion - not so soon after james and lily.

merlin knows he would blame himself, and he would continue to do so even when everyone involved has moved on. hell, the pair of them will wallow in their guilt, no matter how much reassurance i give them.

we humans can all be a little emotional anyway. i could never blame them, i could never blame a person for what they feel, and i certainly won't stop them from facing them if it was what they wished.

he lurked by the open kitchen door, "if anything," i take yet another deep, calming breath, "i think you two are the ones to have a talk, a proper talk without running away from each other,"

i push open the door, stepping out into the cold autumn night, and i hear hushed whispers as i stand in the garden for while, inhaling the cold air.

"at least let us escort you home," remus says timidly, laying a coat over my shoulders.

"no need, remus," i pat his cheek, pulling the cardigan tighter around my body, "you two be safe, yes?"

without waiting for an answer from him, i turn to face sirius, "i'll be moving back in with mary, so you don't need to worry, i'll be out of the house in 3 days at most,"

my last words meld into a gasp as sirius pulls me into one last hug, his face buried into the crook of my neck and with shaking hands, i hug him back tightly, inhaling the smell of his cigarettes, that overpriced cologne he always bought, and just barely concealed firewhiskey.

"i'm so -"

"hush now," i pat his back, "i'll be fine sirius," i murmur with a slight tremor in my voice, " we'll be alright,"

oh how untrue those words would turn out to be.

[ohmyspacesailor]

Little things I've noticed on my rewatch of 1x01

So, it's been a while since I've actually watched the show and I've started to miss Crowley and Aziraphale something fierce. So I've finally started at the beginning and here are some small things that stood out or that I didn't notice to that extend before. Nothing revolutionary, but maybe you'll enjoy / be devastated by it anyway.

Eden: Crawley saw Aziraphale before their talk on the wall since he mentions seeing him with a sword. They kept hanging around the garden for a while, but haven't talked that much since Az asks Crawley's name?

After receiving the Antichrist: Crowley is devastated. The way he days "Already?!" gets me every time. Is barely able to keep it together infront of Hastur and Ligur (terrific acting by David here). Immediately tries to call Aziraphale.

Park, going up the stairs: "It's not some little temptation I've asked you to cover for me while you're in Edinburgh for the festival". Their arrangement is so casually lived in by then. And the way Aziraphale lights up when he's invited to lunch. Also, Crowley's hair is stunning in the sun here.

After lunch: Az gets totally distracted by Crowley's company, forgets all about Armageddon or their disagreement over it. Wants to open a bottle for a "special occasion", tone indicating inside joke / hidden meaning. There's a theory about that being sexual, but while I support that headcanon I think it's more of a joke along the lines that it isn't actually a special occasion, because they drink together all the time.

Infront of the bookshop: "this is purely social" Sure Az, as if that makes it any better in heaven's judgement. Now you're just being silly! (see what I did there?)

Making the pact: How cute is Crowley here?!? I already knew that and think about it constantly, but seeing it again is something else still. I mean, seriously:

Babysitting Warlock: How somehow Nanny Ashtorath is able to sing so much better than I've ever heard David Tennant do (no offense) is a proper mystery to me.

Meeting on the bus: Why don't they talk on their job as nanny and gardener lol?They must have endless opportunities and still they hang out even more. Ok, probably more like a plot hole for coolness than being meant romantically on purpose here, but still.

Bus and dinosaur park: Crowley can't bring himself to tell Az the whole ugly truth about the antichrists power / the dog not to frighten him too much. This is really sweet and very telling about how he sees him as kind of naive and innocent. Also, he's protective snek. Another amazing thing here is how he doesn't even consider killing the Antichrist himself although he is been working against hell all along anyway. Ties nicely to the bandstand scene later.

In the shop: "Crowley: Would I lie to you? - Aziraphale: Obviously, you're a demon, that's what you do". While his is pretty hurtful towards Crowley and typically blindsided of Aziraphale, it's also so devastatingly accepting of him as well.

In the shop at the end ("he's named the dog"): Crowley is really, really afraid and that respectively makes Az nervous (the looming doom in his delivery of "welcome to the end times").

That was all for this round... In general it blew my mind how much of their story is already in episode one!

And I'll never get tired of mentioning how David and Micheal disappear completely into their characters. I try to admire their work in the moment, but I keep forgetting it's them. Only because I have seen so much of them by now can I spot them as the actors in tiny moments that last mere half-seconds. That's always a weird triumph. "ha! I've seen a glimpse of Micheal's smile there!" or "the way Crowley says 'helly hellhound' sounded very David" and that's basically it.

[altraviolet]

Stylesheet!

After I finished TEG, as I was going back through and editing, I realized there were quite a few words that changed spelling/configuration over the course of the story. I jotted these down in a couple places. Although I had many reference .docs for the story, there were little details missing from those notes, like the use of NeoCybex vs Neocybex.

Many months after the editing process was done, I found out there's a name for this list! A stylesheet! If you were to have a novel traditionally published, your editor would generate a stylesheet while reading your story. They would use it to keep details consistent across your novel, and give the stylesheet to you afterwards for reference. Having unknowingly generated myself one, and having learned more about them since then, I highly advise you make one for yourself when writing a very long story.

Here are the TEG stylesheets:

Oooh, so fancy, lol. Here's what it says in full (with slight editing for clarity), if you're curious:

Editing notes 2/17/2024

- Shadowzone – one word, does not need to be capitalized → Ratchet's disdain lol → Nemesis and Lost Light (use) italics on just the ship name - CONTINUITY: he never transformed in the Shadowzone - Soundwave's thoughts are italic and don't have a period at the end - “alright” will be used (as opposed to “all right”) - “Neocybex” no C - “reticles” yes [not "reticules"] - Security Team: capital security mech: lowercase - supernova (one word) - free REIN (I mistakenly used “reign” throughout the story) - FORGOT TO WRITE UM GIVING SW A STOOL. FUCK. (maybe I'll put this in a sequel, heh) .:comms start small. Next word caps:. - Movie Night: capital - jam: verb, not jamb - MESSAGES: format like pg 299, sans serif italic (this is a formatting note for messages sent in the story, regarding font in the ebook) - Crystal Club (capitalize) - Ex-Decepticons meeting - alt-dimensioner(s) - magna-clamps - work: pleasure activity (2938 use of the word) - labor: forced labor (2938 use of the word- Mirage and Skywarp use these words in a very distinct way) - tonekey one word - thumbs-up no apostrophe - crucible → lowercase c - sparkpulse? 2 words - space bridge? - groundbridge? → one word

Because I was editing in both a typesetting software and on AO3, I had to edit the entire story twice. (I should've also edited my “all the story in one doc” file, but that was just too much. I'm super hoping that doesn't come back to bite me). Even though it was very easy to search for terms in the typesetting software, I had to note down every single instance of certain changes so I could go into individual chapters on AO3 to edit. Here's my sticky note for changing “thumb's up” to “thumbs-up” on AO3:

Search both ok: magna-clamps thumb's up corrections (11) Ch 14, 17, 35 (2), 43, 44, 47, 48, 49, 51, 8 Crystal Club Neocybex Security Team Movie Night if... then Ch 12 (2)

As demonstrated, this is a pretty disorganized way to accomplish anything xD

But! Now I know what ✨stylesheets✨ are and I can pass that knowledge to you!

I learned most of what I know from this YouTube video by Autumn Bardot. Autumn goes through what a stylesheet is and why you should use it. She also has a very helpful and handy stylesheet available on her website, which you can find HERE.

I'll go through Autumn's stylesheet template and give you an example of each from TEG.

1. Oxford comma or not I do use the Oxford comma. Here is an example:

He would've struck immediately, but cataloging the Autobot's strange field, blood, and features had distracted him.

The Oxford comma is the comma before the word "and."

2. Spelling of character names Obviously, this is very important. Rodimus, Megatron, Nautica: these are all names that a spellchecker is going to pick out. Make sure the spelling stays consistent throughout the story.

3. Spelling of proper nouns

- capitalize - all caps - italicize - different font Lost Light being italicized

4. British vs US spelling and grammar “The Echo Garden” is written following US spelling and grammar rules because the author is from the US.

5. Jargon/slang spelling and usage.

- made up words - foreign words - regional words “Enceladia” is a made up word. 6. Foreign word spelling

- accents marks and placement In the fic, alt-dimensioners had their own words/terms for conjunx. Trailbreaker used coniunxe. 7. Hyphenated words alt-dimensioner(s) magna-clamps

8. Past tense of verb forms This refers to verbs that have more than one past tense. Pick one and use it throughout the story. Sometimes you'll see the convention split between US and UK English. For example: the past tense of DWELL is either DWELLED or DWELT. In this story, “dwelled” would've been used. 9. Numbers writing out “one” vs not writing out “2938” 10. For self-pubbed books; Indents for new paragraphs, font types for a text message and tech communique This is Autumn's note for authors who self-publish their books. She's reminding them to put an indent for every new paragraph and make sure font types are used correctly for in-universe things like text messages. This is not so much a thing on AO3, where paragraphs are separated by spaces, not indents. But if you were typesetting for print, you would want to be mindful of this.

In TEG, 2938 Megatron's voice is written in allcaps with no quotation marks.

.:comms are done like this:. 11. Capitalization and/or italics for Holy Books, scriptures, chapters or verses within holy books, and also well-known documents like the constitution Ultra Magnus quotes the “Code of Conduct” a few times.

Possibly also falling under this category were some mechs' handwriting: purposeful typos and UpPercaSe sTufF LikE tHis 12. Character thoughts Character thoughts are all done in italics. Soundwave's thoughts are done in italics without capitalization and without most punctuation. 13. Important details & facts Neocybex is the language they all speak. The Lost Light has a quantum feel to it. Mirage has gems embedded in his arms. 14. Anything else where consistency in your novel is important Not forgetting to have Ultra Magnus give Soundwave his stool would've been nice!! Dang xD Things I kept consistent: the location of rooms in relation to each other, characterization and characterization progression, a slow “power creep” for Soundwave as he discovered who he was. – So yeah! You can see how a stylesheet would've been really helpful as I wrote. I think if you get the template and toss stuff in there as you go, you'll have a much easier time editing by the end of a long story. I don't think this step is necessary for a short story, unless you have a LOT of information to keep track of, or perhaps mix up your spellings and want to make sure you keep consistent with the right one (color vs colour, for example). Check out Autumn's video, grab a stylesheet template for yourself, and happy writing :)

[antiquatedsimmer]

( Hello Everyone! Been awhile, had to rebuild my entire world & find horrible bug fixes. But I'm so happy to make a post! I hope u enjoy.) Subtitles will be available under the cut

So glad to be able to play my favorite pixels again, even if just for a little. I had a ER visit recently so I'm mostly sleeping till my health is better.

Everything was ruined in the save corruption, I had to completely start over, I mean complete restart, an entire new EA folder.

I love everything and had to rebuild my entire save + replace all locations in other worlds + remake broken sims.

Took forever..... But! I Tried to catch everything up to speed with a diary entry since a lot of stuff was lost in corruption.

Thank you for reading!

SUBTITLES:

Dear Diary, 1908

I am utterly exhausted… The rain jus' won't quit, and the Mud puddles cling to my skirts, chilling my ankles while dampening the hems of my dresses.

I'm struggling to tend to the farm like ah oughta, since Ma and Pa need so much care. Everyday I thank the Lord for Josephine,

The only thing we've ever expected of her was to make Silas happy, She's never lived or worked on a farm in her whole life...yet. She's taken it upon herself to learn the skills so that I don't have to do all the work alone. Josie's clothes aren't particularly built for gardening and are more for a garden party but her heart is in the right place. 

Perhaps I can get her some proper work gloves and boots... I couldn't stop laughing when her heel got stuck in a mud puddle. 

I'll be honest...I didn't expect Josie to enjoy living here, I figured going from a comfortable lifestyle to a poor farmers wife would be tough for anyone.

Did you know her father liked to bet on horses? Sometimes I wonder what its like having so much money u can afford to throw it away. 

I'm happy Josie is Happy here but, there are times I think about what if we had that money. Would Mama and Papa be cured? I Don't know… At the very least I would be getting better help, Josie can only do so much.

Silas hasn't lifted a finger in regard to anything involving the farm in a long time. I remember how he would beg Papa to allow him to learn so he could improve the farm for us.

I'm confident all aspirations of that are gone.

Now, all I hear is money money money. I know I don't know much but I think money changes people. Josie keeps me updated on Silas since we hardly speak anymore, she tells me He's been promoted to factory overseer and hired as a inventor for her fathers company.

She says he has the 1st patents for some of his inventions, which makes me a little confused, Where's all the money? If true we could be providing better for our family!

I would be angry if my heart wasn't already heavy with worry. The thought of living without Mama or Papa… Josie is the only thing keepin' me steady.

Her and the never-ending things that need to be done.

I pray every day for a change. Please Lord.

Yours truly,

Lucile

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Okay last one i promise 🙏😅

#4 'first conversations alone' + piarles

hi babe, this is one that I was really hoping to get!

Maybe he should have seen it coming. He had been away for two years after all. Of course everything around him had changed, but for some reason, he had kept the thought of Charles in a glass dome.

Charles would be sitting on Pierre's front steps, waiting on Pierre to come outside to run down to the market with him. The two of them would fold right back into their normal banter.

Pierre would come home and he would have Charles.

Somehow he had clung to this even when the two of them had exchanged letters the entire time and Pierre had known that he had presented as an omega.

But that had quickly been popped when Pierre had come home to find no Charles on his doorstep - no Charles waiting for him the next day - no Charles sitting at his family's luncheon table and that's when it had sunk in that Charles was...

Charles and Pierre wouldn't ever get back the relationship they had as children because society dictated their interactions.

Pierre had to be proper.

And he doesn't have time to properly call on Charles the first week he's home. There are too many things to attend to, but he does write him a quick letter - asking if he'll be attending the ball the Sainz family is hosting.

Charles is.

And that's how Pierre finds himself tucked into a corner of the ballroom - clutching a cup - trying to make himself small, because he's not here to find a mate, only here to find Charles.

He hates balls. He hates how busy they are. He hates how they're full of scents. He hates that he's considered an eligible member of society and he can never have any peace.

But, two seconds before he sees him, he smells him. He knows it's Charles because it smells like his childhood. Iced cookies and the sea and lilac and Charles is suddenly there - looking beautiful and grown up.

"Hi," he whispers, and Pierre can't stop himself from reaching out, wrapping his fingers around Charles' wrist and pulling him back and back and back until they're alone in a room and Pierre is slamming the door behind him.

It's wrong and it's improper, but Pierre has taken one look at him. One singular look and he knows that he wasn't interested in anyone else, because -

"You've not even said hello to me yet, petit." Charles huffs, yanking his wrist free. "And now you're going to scandalize our -"

"Hello," Pierre cuts him off, smiling. Leaning away from Charles' body so he doesn't do something insane like lean in and kiss him. He says it softer, "hello."

Charles smiles - wide and happy. "I was expecting you to come call on me. I want to hear all about your school - your travels."

Pierre considers it - calling on Charles. Having to be chaperoned by Pascale or Lorenzo. Unable to touch Charles' wrist or knee the way they had always done. Unable to laugh freely.

"I'll come tomorrow," he promises. "but first, we should go and have a walk in the garden. Get away from all the nosy alphas who want you to dance with them."

Charles blushes, deep and red, and then he grips his own wrist - at the place where Pierre had touched him. "If we get caught, Pierre..."

Pierre half wants them to get caught. He wants them to get caught so he can skip all of this and just marry him.

Because he's sure of that. He's going to marry and mate Charles. Before the end of the season.

"Well," he leans in, whispering, "I suppose if we get caught, we'll just have to get married, won't we?"

Something sharp passes over Charles' face, but it smooths over. A picture of the perfect omega. Passive and agreeable and gentle.

Pierre hates it. And he knows that it's something ridiculous that society has instilled in him and Pierre will be responsible for stamping it out of him.

"Come now, Charles." Pierre holds his arm out for Charles to take. "Some time in the garden will fix us right up and I'll tell you about my friend Alex who made a fool of himself in front of a group of omega's who were visiting the art museum."

Charles slips his hand into the crook of Pierre's elbow. "I think I would like to see the art museum."

Pierre keeps himself from offering to escort him.

Not yet.

Not in this first conversation - he'll court him first. Properly and thoroughly and then he'll ask for his hand in marriage.

And then he'll give him the world.

Pierre is glad that Charles does not exist in that glass dome anymore.

He much prefers this. Even if it took one singular conversation.

[shirohige-pirates]

Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 7: How Does Your Garden Grow

Thatch guides you out to the garden, but once you stepped out into the backyard you had a much better sense of how rich Edward Newgate really was. The house had been large and impressive, the amenities and decor a balance of functional modern and a cozy traditional feel, so you already had some sense of things.

The backyard, if it was even proper to call it that, highlighted that the estate had two wings that came off the front section of the house, and created a courtyard feel for the area just off the back patio. There were a few places set up for people to sit around and eat, a barbecue pit, and a stone oven which had function, certainly, but also played the part of center piece with a mini bar and seating around it.

It was easy to picture most of the family outside enjoying a meal from the grill more often than not.

The garden stretched out even beyond the penned in courtyard. The patio you were on was elevated slightly compared to the rest of it, and you could see the paths leading out into distinct areas.

“Aside from just grilling food, we use this area for social events and other parties.” Thatch says, after giving you a moment to take it all in. “I think Pops wrote a third of the house and the entire courtyard off as a business expense when he expanded the place a couple of decades ago.”

Taking a few steps forward, he steps down from the back porch and looks up at you with a smile. “There’s a few different sections, but we don’t have to walk all of them today. There’s even a green house off the south wing. It has some vegetables in it, herbs, spices - things that are just harder to find fresh on this island.

“Is there something you like?” He prompts and your gaze shifts from everything else back to him.

“Pardon?”

“You were excited last night when I mentioned we had a garden.”

You can feel the blood rush to your face and you just hope it’s not visible. “I was - am - interested.” You correct and Thatch smiles. “I’ve seen plenty of flowers, but I’ve never really seen them just… growing.” You admit somberly. “They were already always cut and arranged.”

His smile falters a little, brows creasing, but it doesn’t last long before the smile is renewed. “I know what to show you then, shall we?” He questions, offering an elbow.

You accept it, placing your hand as you had just like last night. You lift your arm up a little higher than before, so Thatch doesn’t have to lean down as far. He explains some of the reasonings behind the layout and design, how things had changed over the years.

It’s interesting, but you recognize nervous chatter when you hear it, and you realize quickly that he’s just talking to distract himself. It certainly makes it easier to be around him with no one else around, the way he gets flustered being near you. It’s endearing, and your only fear is that it will turn out to be a falsehood.

Things didn’t look up and then continue to look up. Not like this. Something was going to break. Thatch was either going to turn mean once you moved into his apartment, or Mr. Edward was going to demand a rematch because you were just a fake, some doll hardly worth his kind and valued son. Something was going to break.

As long as it wasn’t you, you wouldn’t be blamed.

“Everything okay?” Thatch prompts and you look up, and then around, and realize that you can’t see the estate anymore.

“Yeah, I’m just… nervous.” You say honestly, before realizing that you’re saying that while isolated and alone with him, and continue speaking so you can clarify. “About this afternoon. I’m not nervous right now, I’m just,” you look around again. “Unsure where we are.”

The space itself is beautiful. The hedges are well-kept and there’s flowers lining the space in front of them. They’re tall though, maybe to create a sense of privacy or to help keep each section visually separate from the others, or maybe just because they grow best that way.

All thoughts of the estate and its location leave you, however, when you finally start to take your immediate surroundings in. The flowers lining the hedges are just a preview to the glory of the flowers around you right now.

Stepping away from Thatch, you reach out and brush your fingers over the petals of flowers you could name by heart, from what they meant to how they needed to be arranged. They all looked so different right now, so vibrant. Laid out with intent, you’re sure, but then left to fill in the gaps on their own.

Flower types were taken into account well, including shape and color, to create an aesthetically pleasing space. It also smelled amazing, softer scents lifting up sweeter ones. In the open garden it wasn’t so powerful as to be overwhelming, but you imagined there were some days where one didn’t walk the gardens - they left them to the bees.

“It’s beautiful.” You say quietly and Thatch smiles.

“Yeah… it is.” He clears his throat before motioning to a nearby stone bench. “If you want to sit and enjoy the sights for a while before we go back, we have time.”

“That would be nice.” You agree, going over and sitting down on the bench, your back to the hedges so you can look out over the majority of the space. “Did you and your family design these?”

“Hm? The different gardens?”

“Yeah.”

“It ended up being a kind of coming of age thing,” Thatch explains, standing a few paces away from you. “Not just to give something to the estate, but to have a place that was ours in a sense. Prove we could oversee a smaller project like this, how well we would or wouldn’t rely on others, that sort of stuff.”

“Growing up when your father owns a business is certainly unique.”

“Heh, it can be a little stressful, but it’s not like we’re in competition with ourselves, and it’s not like you have to do any of it either. A couple of my brothers hired other brothers to design their gardens, and aside from myself, Marco and Izou, only two others own their own businesses. But it’s not like we tease Haruta or Vista for their choices.” He explains.

“Family is not a source of any of the stress, then?”

“Exactly!” He beams. “Aside from the occasional brotherly aggravation.” He admits with fake grumble.

You smile, but even in the garden it fades. There’s a few moments of silence, and you let yourself enjoy the sun - you should’ve put sunblock on, Doll - and the soft breeze - don’t let your hair smudge your make up, Doll - and the sweet scents - ugh I hate these outdoor venues, the flowers stink.

It wasn’t often you got to enjoy the outdoors in peace, and Thatch seemed content to let you do just that. Looking over at him you catch his eyes shifting away from you, pink on his cheeks. Usually you could tell when someone was looking at you, but it didn’t seem to be the case with him.

“This… isn’t your garden though, is it?” You question, hesitantly. You don’t know him as well as you’d like in order to make such an assumption, but you do know flowers, and dealing with people’s associations to them. While these are beautiful, they don’t strike you as flowers Thatch would choose.

He scratches the back of his head idly. “Nah, this one is Izou’s. I can decorate pastries, but all this?” He waves his hand over the impressive collection of blossoms. “I might’ve been able to commission Izou, but yeah, this one isn’t mine.” He grins, looking down at you. “How’d you know?”

You look away, pressing your lips together. How strange was it for such a conversation to feel so intimate? It wasn’t like you’d never talked about flowers to someone before now. You’d critiqued arrangements and had gotten into flower arranging to such a degree you had been able to spot famous, and local, arrangers easily.

This shouldn’t be any different than any other explanation.

“This garden is well-designed and beautiful. The scents of the flowers are complex, but not off-putting, and the colors are exacting.” You’re not looking at him to see the concern on his face, and so you continue. “But it’s very harsh, in a way. Unforgiving. There’s no softness, and it’s not very in… inviting.” You manage to finish, feeling your heart speed up a little as you’re pointedly avoiding looking at him now.

“Plus the flowers all mean rude things.” You mutter after a moment and Thatch bursts out laughing.

“They do?” He asks, still laughing, and you nod.

“Meadowsweet implies uselessness.” You explain, pointing as you move from one flower to the next. “Orange lilies are signs of hatred, and the foxglove is insincerity.”

It takes Thatch a moment to stop laughing long enough to explain. “Izou wasn’t - haaa - wasn’t happy about the garden project.” He breathes in deep, turning away and nearly wheezing. “Told Pops he’d still put his - his - hahaha - his heart into it.”

You smile at the implication. Malicious compliance was something you could certainly understand. You’d only spoken with him a little this morning, and mostly about his business, but you could see him enjoying this space. Especially since no one else seemed to know just what it was built around.

A shrill short whistle cuts through the air and Thatch holds out a hand.

“That would be my dad letting the entire neighborhood know his sons need to come inside.” He explains. “Shall we?”

You take his hand as you stand, and leave it in his loose grip as you walk back to the house. Thatch walks much slower with your hand in his, you aren’t entirely sure if he’s being considerate, or if he’s just prolonging the return to the house. Maybe, honestly, a bit of both.

“There you are,” Izou says, greeting you both as you make it to the back patio. “Pops was - oh? Holding hands already, Thatch you sly dog.” He teases.

You don’t withdraw your hand and Thatch doesn’t let go, instead sighing at Izou as he holds your hand until you’re at the top of the patio. Finally letting go he looks at his brother.

“Everything’s settled then?”

“Yup, we’re not leaving for a little while still. The bird’s nesting in the living room, and Pops wanted to talk to the both of you before we left.” He says, and then gives you a much kinder smile. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, it’s nothing bad.”

“Certainly. I’m honestly surprised my parents agreed.”

“I don’t think Haruta left them much of a choice.” Izou admits with a mischievous smile.

Edward Newgate was waiting in the dining room, sitting where you’d sat earlier while Izou had talked about his business. He was dressed differently than you’d seen before, his clothing more casual, but there was something intimidating about him. Intimidating in a mafia sense and less in an international CEO kind of way.

Your parents were certainly grifters, and you thought maybe their tendencies would give them a leg up when it came to being dubious, but now you felt you may have been wrong. You were suddenly curious how Whitebeard Shipping and Trade had been initially financed.

You sat across from Newgate, and Thatch sat beside you. The old man’s stern face softened a bit as he regarded you.

“I apologize that you have to come with us, Miss Kakusho.” He says gently, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I understand why.” You agree. It was very possible that you’d arrive at your parents house and they’d have marines there, trying to convince them that you’d been kidnapped by Edward Newgate and were being held against your will. Or they’d simply bar them entry and screech about trespassing, or lie about what room was yours.

“Alright. The plan is to have Marco, Thatch, and Izou pack your room and empty it. Haruta will be driving, and I’ll be staying with you.” He says.

“They’re… going to pack my room up?” You question tilting your head.

“It’s not gonna be pretty.” Izou says. “We have some forty-two inch duffel bags, we’re just going to toss everything in those.”

“One room, the three of us, nothing of sentimental value to you,” Thatch looks up at the ceiling, calculating something in his head. “I can’t imagine it’ll take more than twenty minutes.”

“We can give Marco some coffee before we leave and he’ll pack it all in ten.” Izou muses.

“We want things to make it into the bags.” Thatch admonishes, a grin on his face.

“Concerns?” Pops asks you.

You look at the table, pressing your lips together. “Some, but I will do my best.”

“Such as?” He prods, and you shake your head.

“It’ll be okay then.” Thatch says after a moment of silence. “If you can’t put it to words we’ll still figure out how to make it work.” He assures you, putting one of his hands over yours and giving you a smile.

“Before we go though, I just want to make sure we’re in the same boat.” Pops says, but his voice seems warmer than before, like he’s trying to be as gentle as he can. “You do not want to stay with your parents, correct?”

“Correct.” You answer.

“You want us to gather your things and come back here, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Alright. That’s good enough for now. We’ll worry about when you’ll move into Thatch’s apartment tomorrow.” He says. “But now I know what lines to hold your parents to while we’re there.”

Edward Newgate stands up and you’re reminded of how large he is. Wider across than Thatch and a little taller, his physical dimensions were nothing compared to his presence. This was a man who could shoulder the world with one arm as far as you were concerned.

“Wake Marco. No pleasantries for this trip, my sons, we’ll get this unpleasant business handled quickly.”

[jennay]

Flowers and Tattoos

The request:

maybe reader's pov?? i would love to read how she's like "oh, jamie's probably buying flowers for someone spec- wait, did he really ask if I would like to go on a date with him? what?? 😳" and being the happiest person in the world because of that✨

A/n : I hope you enjoy this! I didn’t want to end it. 😂

Master List

Riley, your coworker, sighs with annoyance as she watches you stare out the window and to the tattoo shop, where one of the men stands outside smoking. She's tired of you always shooting yourself down and claiming that he never notices you. She watched you two have small conversations when he came to buy flowers for his mom or when he came to 'look' around, and she could have sworn he was hitting on you at one point, but you were too blind to see. "You could ask him out, you know? It's not that big of a deal. If he says no, then at least you tried."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You walk to the other side of your Grandma's flower shop and water the roses that are starting to look a bit sad. "Besides, he's not single. There is no way, and we'll I'm me." You set the watering can on the counter. You grab an empty pot and loose soil; you meant to plant these hyacinth bulbs over a week ago, but you'd been busy with paperwork that your Grandma now left you in charge of. She's prepping you to take over when she retires.

"What does that even mean?" She walks toward you and sits on the counter next to you and your project. She hands you a pair of gloves, but your hands are already digging into the earthy soil.

You continue thrashing dirt around. "I'm probably not his type. Girls like me don't get guys like that. Have you seen Jamie?"

Riley's brows furrow, and she wrinkles her nose, "Girls like you? What beautiful, intelligent, and hilarious girls? He'd be lucky!" She rolls her eyes. "Do you need a break? It looks like your going to smother that plant…."

You push the pot to Riley. "Yeah." Making your way over to the sink, you wash your hands. You felt like Riley was saying all of this to build your confidence and be a good friend, but you didn't believe her. When you reach the door, you turn to her and say, "I'm gonna go to the pizza place. Do you want anything?"

She shakes her head, "I'm good. Stay and eat there. Take a proper break…. don't come back till your hour's up, grumpy."

You see Jamie walking out of the tattoo shop as you are exiting. He smiles when he sees you. It feels like butterflies are battling in your stomach. Shyly and a little awkward, you wave to him. He waves back to you, but your eyes are already straightforward, and you miss it.

Lucky for you, the city's best pizza parlor is right down the street. It's a nice day, and you could use the walk. It takes little time for you to arrive. You hadn't noticed how hungry you were until you entered the restaurant.

"Hi, dear!" Mr. Parker, the parlor's owner, was always kind to you. You'd helped him pick the perfect flowers for his wife, and he always remembered your patience. He now comes in often and has taken lessons with you to learn more and impress his wife with his gardening.

Smiling, you look at the glass case showing all the delicious pies. "These look amazing!"

"Ahh, you're too kind." He laughs. "I recommend the new chicken barbeque pizza, mozzarella, and fresh basil from the garden!"

"Well, I guess I'll have to try it then." You hand him your debit card, and he slides across the counter and back to you.

"On the house today."

Graciously you thank him for his kindness. You take your plated pizza and sit at the table in the corner. You pull up Netflix on your phone and quietly begin one of your shows. If you were going to waste an hour away from your store, you better enjoy it.

You hear the bells ring when someone enters through the door, but you're too enthralled in your show to look up from your screen. Mr. Parker was not kidding; that first bite was a tastebud explosion. Your eyes close, and a smile drifts across your lips.

"What kind did you get?"

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. You open one eye, set your pizza back on the plate, and quickly grab a napkin. "Chicken barbeque."

"Do you mind if I sit?" Jamie is already setting his plate down and pulling out a chair. "I got the supreme."

You take notice of all the rings on his fingers. You're searching for a wedding- ah, it's right on his left ring finger. You mentally slap yourself for thinking of another woman's husband in the ways that you have. This is why you didn't listen to Riley; it was too good to be true. Jamie wouldn't flirt with someone like you.

"My mom loved those flowers you recommended." He has this boyish grin, and you can't help but smile. It's contagious. "That's good. You know Mother's Day is coming, and we'll have some specials." No, you weren't trying to sell him things, but you weren't sure what to talk about with him. It's not like you guys were best friends. He'd been in your shop a few times, and one of his coworkers gave you a tattoo a few months ago, but outside of that, it was usually a quick wave and smile.

"Well, you don't have to tell me twice. I'll be there."

Whoever married him was lucky. Jamie didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. He was always kind and friendly. He was good at making conversation and made everyone he interacted with feel special.

Smiling, you say, "Well, I'll look forward to it." You feel your heart sink to your stomach. Why did you say that? You feel like a moron. "I should get going; god only knows what Riley is up to." Standing, you say, "It was nice seeing you."

"Yeah, you too. I'll see you around."

"Bye." You throw your trash away and leave before you say anything else that wasn't filtered. You shake off your nerves and walk back to your business. When you return, you see Riley sitting behind the counter reading a book. "He's married." You throw your hands in the air and let out a groan. "Why did you let me get my hopes up?" Your shoulders slump as you take a seat next to her.

"How do you know?" She suspiciously eyes you. "Are you Internet stalking him?"

You rest your head on the counter and let your shoulders droop low. "He sat with me at the pizza place, and I looked at his hands because that's normal…anyway he has a ring on his left ring finger." You groan again.

As the day continues, the two of you continue taking an interest in customers, but after your interaction with Jamie, you'd be lying if you said you weren't sulking. You stand in the corner, tending to the hydrangeas that seem to be dramatic this year. Why they were acting like this was beyond you.

You hear the front door open, but you know Riley will get it. You want this day to be over. You needed to go home and reset. Tapping on your shoulder draws you back to reality. You quickly turn around and are met with Jamie's piercing blue eyes and bright, toothy smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Oh shit. You think to yourself, an insult to injury, he's here to look for flowers for his wife, and he's going to ask you for advice. Ouch.

"That's ok, sorry. I was trying to fix these hydrangeas and their drooping." You hold one and frown.

Jamie beams, to him, you were unique, and he loved your passion for flowers and plants. You were like a walking encyclopedia when it came to plants. "So, what's your favorite flower? What would you recommend giving an extraordinary woman? Something that says, unique, passionate, and beautiful."

God, this sucked. You wanted to push him off to Riley, but she was busy with an elderly couple. "Well," You guide him to the back where your favorite flowers were. "These aren't supposed to grow here, but I figured out how to keep them alive."

His eyes widen as he admires the flowers that look like tiny hearts. "What are those called? They're astounding; I've never seen anything like it."

You laugh at his expression, "It's kinda Emo. They're called bleeding hearts."

He gently grabs the small bouquet, "That's metal." He jokes. "I'll get these."

"Good choice. I'll meet you upfront when you're finished looking around." You lead him back to the front of the shop. You're surprised when he stands at the counter waiting for you. "13.99."

He hands you the cash and walks to the door. He stops suddenly and turns around.

"Something wrong?" You giggle at him. "I'll take them back a full refund."

He chuckles as he walks to the counter, "Nothings wrong." He hands you back the flowers.

Confused, You raise your eyebrow and look at him like he's crazy.

"They're for you. Um. I didn't know how to ask you out on a date, and I well, I- this was going a lot smoother in my mind." He sighs. “Did I blow it?”

You grin like an idiot, but then a thought goes through your mind, "Aren't you married?" You say, pointing to his hand.

He chuckles, "No. I just like rings." He pauses. "I hope I haven't ruined this. I just, you know, I thought maybe there was a spark or,"

You bring the flowers to your face and smile at him. "There is, and yes, I'll go on a date with you." You write your name on a piece of paper with your number and hand it to him. "I'm off at five."

"I'll see you at five," He nervously laughs. He leaves for the door and gives you a wave before leaving. You feel like your face will tear with how big you are smiling.

Riley walks to the counter. "I don't mean to brag, but I told you so!"

[harmoniouspixels]

It's time to discuss the resident farmers of Crystal Valley, the Brown Family!

Family Description:

The Brown Family name is synonymous with farming in the Crystal Valley region. Although they haven't had many roots in Crystal Valley proper, Patrick and his family have been changing that over the years.

Patrick Brown

Aspiration: Family

Secondary: N/A

LTW: Become Education Minister

Personality: Scorpio (6/5/8/3/3)

Turn Ons and Turn Offs: Blonde Hair, Creative; Cologne

Job: Owner of Brown Farms

Skills: 3/5/3/4/1/1/2

Talent Badges: Silver (Gardening); Bronze (Fishing, Sewing)

Bio: Patrick has been part of the community for generations. Now that it's his turn to take over the farm, will he be able to see it prosper?

Alice Brown

Aspiration: Grow-Up

Secondary: N/A

LTW: N/A

Personality: Sagittarius (3/0/8/7/7)

Job: N/A (Toddler)

Skills: 0/0/0/0/0/0/0

Bio: Little Alice still has a way to go before she knows how the world works, but her curiosity is all she needs right now.

Jennifer Brown

Aspiration: Family

Secondary: N/A

LTW: Graduate 3 Children from College

Personality: Pisces (4/3/7/3/7)

Turn Ons and Turn Offs: Fitness, Red Hair; Fatness

Job: Co-Owner of Brown Farms

Skills: 5/2/1/1/1/5/3

Talent Badges: Silver (Sewing); Bronze (Flower Arranging, Gardening, Fishing, Pottery)

Bio: Hippie at heart, Jennifer has enjoyed living out on the farm. Hopefully being close to nature will have a positive effect on her children.

Nathan Brown

Aspiration: Grow-Up (Future Family)

Secondary: N/A

LTW: N/A

Personality: Virgo (9/2/6/3/5)

Job: Elementary School Student

Skills: 1/0/1/0/2/2/0

Bio: Nathan is a very inquisitive young boy, with a promising athletic career in front of him. He cares very deeply for his best friend, Leo.

Creation Notes:

The entire family here? They're all based around Nathan! This is because I downloaded Nathan back in the Exchange days around 2011. He's packaged as a teen with a pair of custom underwear (tank top edit to put a wolf logo on it, and a custom boxer color).

In the original, I aged him down to child and built up a family around him (parents and younger sister). Part of this reason is that I needed potential partners for the spouses of the Baker twins, and he was one of them!

However, I have since revisited that, and the aforementioned Leo will be his future partner. (No, really. Leo married the other Baker twin, and despite the two being in marriages, I would imagine Leo and Nathan together. Surprised I didn't just get them together at first, but that was life then.) I'll talk more about Leo in the next family intro!

Jennifer's free-spirit is based upon the shirt and the shirt alone. I remember I got it from another Exchange sim, who was the founder of a 100 Baby Challenge story on the site. Can't remember if I have that original sim, but the only similarities they share are their clothing.

Alice is probably the least developed sim character-wise from the family. I think it's because I made her a toddler back in the day, and I was focusing my efforts elsewhere before her. The 'hood was gone before I really started to get into what made her.

Also poor Patrick. Rolled into this version of the 'hood with a career-based LTW. But hey, never say never, since it could happen! I'm bad at farming in TS2, so let's hope if I do get back to playing this 'hood that I can at least manage to not have everything be sickly!

[essentiamortis]

THE BATTLE OF MANHATTEN. - being surrounded by the dead is easier than feeling the death of those you love.

major trigger warnings under cut.

the dreaded moments she had been having nightmares about came to pass during the second titanomachy. sending ghosts to her father with updates from the battlefield despite the ache in her chest and soul feeling like it's being crushed one boulder at a time.

elizabeth had senses their deaths, so many of hecate's children. so many demigods - some young as nico, others younger. she recalls the death of a young unclaimed demigod boy. his name haunts her; jacob brantley. only ten years old when he'd been used as a chew toy by the hellhounds on board the princess andromeda. how angry luke had been when she's informed him of the attack. how he'd blamed himself despite the boy simply wanting to play with the monster. he didn't know any better. how many times as a child did, she go play with them, with cerberus? too many times to count. so many rubber balls lost.

she'd done the best she could given the circumstances with protecting them, training them, trying to get them out. it was no use for them to escape, he tormented them with nightmares, sent monsters after them. with luke's body being used as a meat suit by kronos - her grandfather; she was stretched thin in terms of being able to care for the demigods and kronos constantly pulling her away. he taunted her, questioned her reasons for being there, wanting to pluck her deepest secrets from her mind and exploit them.

what he hadn't expected was a daughter of hades within his ranks. she'd been careful to not use her abilities connected to her father ; relying only on her training and knowledge of witchcraft. one wrong move and it was game over. she tended to the injured children, gave the proper burial rights to those whom had fallen. her heart ached more so when she couldn't find their bodies. just because she knew their deaths were coming never made it hurt any less. she'd been trained for warfare. death is expected yet she felt this war was senseless. could have been prevented even as her mind wanders to happier times - picnics by the styx with her parents, playing with cerberus, tending the garden with her mother, all those nights she'd spent falling asleep against hades' chest as a child, him encouraging her abilities, training her, teaching her.

the sound of a hellhound bark snaps her back to reality as she's standing on the right side of ethan. the sight of her kid brother causes her to stand up straighter. no, he's not supposed to be here. she thinks to herself, teeth gritting as she keeps her hand on her sword. she couldn't contain the smirk from forming as she watches nico stand up to kronos and raise the dead. he's improved, getting stronger. she noted. her head whips around at the sound of an all too familiar sound. her father's chariot. now she's just confused. this was not the plan! she's no longer watching kronos but her eyes are 'on hades, on nico.

"- there is one thing we agree on - it is that you were a terrible father." hades was saying before his gaze had drifted to her, a smirk on his lips. "and i'll be taking back my daughter as well."

elizabeth took the moment of confusion to melt into the shadows, reappearing in black armor that mirrored his, stygian iron sword back once more in her hand. this time she stood beside hades' chariot, innocently waving at kronos. her mockery only angered the titan lord.

"our daughter." persephone corrected, beaming at her girl. a proud warm filled her heart as elizabeth summoned more soldiers and hellhounds of their own while hades drew his sword, a double-edged stygian blade etched with silver declaring that today the house of hades will be seen as the saviors.

elizabeth knew from the stories hades has told her of the first titanomachy how kronos refused to even engage in battle with the gods, especially his eldest son seeing him as the biggest threat. as she expected; kronos acted accordingly. coward. she thinks to herself, but she quickly turns engaging in the battle, disintegrating monsters.

the fall of ethan nakamura causes her to hesitate and she falls back until her back is against the structure of the empire state building. her breathing is heavy but she pushes through. hold fast, luke. fight him. gain back control. there is still so much left that you haven't accomplished yet. if anyone can change the world for the better; it's you. so fight, please. she directs the thoughts to him, to his soul. "fight for ethan, for the fallen and those forgotten." newfound energy rushes through her body and she's back in the battle. hoping and praying that he heard her.

in the end; it didn't matter. she felt his death even before the fates carried his body out of the building. she'd fallen to her knees, numb. she's covered in blood and ash, sweat beading down her body. her armor has gashes in it, her blood seeping out. there's a ringing in her head, deafening the sounds of voices and noises of the city. yes, she was a spy for her father but she'd grown to care about those she fought beside. she'd cared too much, hoped for too much. she'd let her walls down with them, allowing them into her heart because she saw the good in them. they deserve better.

elizabeth followed in behind hades and nico as they ascended to olympus. the sight made her long for her father's palace, for the comfort of the underworld. even in the wake of the destruction, it was overwhelming standing on olympus. she pays no mind to the praise they are getting. her focus is on the blood soaked marble next to the gaping hole in the flooring. ethan. she knelt next to the hearth, hands shaking as she touches the spot where luke castellan took his final breath.

"elizabeth?" her father spoke, having noticed how quiet she'd been. a step towards her is taken, concern in his voice. "lizzie-"

she shakes her head, tears steaming her face. the demigod pushes herself up, staring up at hades, at the surrounding immortals, "i-i-i can't be here. i-" she looks back at the hearth, the liquid metal within the flames. "i can't do this!" her final shout, running from the throne room. no one moved to go after her, watching in shock. soon as her feet where back on the pavement of fifth street; she shadow traveled back to the underworld. collapsing on the black sand of the styx, sobs racked her body. knees sink into the sands, hands pushing against it.

the daughter of hades grieving for the first time since her mortal mother's passing only this time was different. it wasn't just one death; it's multiple. those she cares about, watch over, mentored, loves - dead. shrouds burnt, deaths she felt so deeply in her soul. she screams - allowing the scream to release her anger, sadness, frustration. a scream that echoes within the dark cavern of erebus. her forehead touches the sand as another wave of heartbreak crashes over her. shades are watching their princess break down in agony. cerberus whimpering in the distance.

elizabeth doesn't bother to fight against the hands pulling her up to a sitting position then into a hug. persephone held her, rubbing her back as she let the tears flow. exhaustion finally took over, forcing the girl to rest, to sleep. mother and daughter stayed there on the shores, awaiting hades' return from olympus.

[ladyyatexel]

Bits and Pieces of B5

Bits of things that I've been accumulating for years and never posted or finished posting.

On this front, I've been doing most work on being able to put up the rest of 'Portraits,' which is the one where we didn't have the worst possible ending and Na'Toth fills in as a temp for bodyguard duties for G'Kar and she spends 2 or 3 months like 'what the actual Fuck has been going on over here with these two' on Centauri Prime.

So everything exists in that world, really! This is already too much detail for a "do you want to read WIP chunks" post so let's go look at BITS AND PIECES

I hope you enjoy these 🥲

This is part of Portraits:

"Why does G’Kar stay?"

"I do not know." Mollari's answer was unexpectedly swift as he picked through his food for bits he particularly liked.  "I have reminded him that he is free to leave from nearly the moment he arrived, but… Well, he is stubborn.” He poked pieces of food as he listed G’Kar’s traits.  “Persistent.  Nosy. Likes being in the way."

"Suited to you, then."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered." He tilted a small nod in her direction.  "Well done."

She took a sip of her drink.  If Mollari was offering direct answers, Na'Toth was going to take them.  

“Why did you choose G'Kar to be your bodyguard?”

“I didn't. Delenn chose him for me.”

“But he stayed, Mollari.  Long after he --”

“You would have to take that up with him,” Mollari said as he shrugged.

====

This is Probably? Portraits. Like the gentle falling off parts that actually include G'Kar in the flesh and not just in concept:

“Am I interrupting you two bonding?” 

G'Kar stood in the doorway with a small pile of rolls and baked goods loosely wrapped in a bundle he had tucked into his elbow.  He held some kind of jelly-filled confection in the opposite hand. 

Mollari immediately tossed his hands up in frustration.  “G'Kar, that is the third time!  Save some for the guests, will you?” 

“I'm hungry now, and I will need fortitude to deal with them later.  This is insurance.” He grinned and took a comically large bite of his jelly-filled snack.  

Mollari shook his head and set his papers and pen aside.  “Come in, you aren't interrupting.”

Na'Toth scoffed.  

“You should discuss your issue with him, Miss Na'Toth," Mollari said.   "I suspect your objections lie more with him anyway.” 

“What?” G'Kar looked up from his food, and tried to talk with his mouth mostly full.  “Wha' 'ave I done mow?”

Na'Toth wrinkled her nose.  “No wonder Mollari's people continue to hate us.  With you as the only example, even I'd second guess us.”

G'Kar swallowed.   “I'll have you know the highest authority on this world thinks I'm delightful.”

“And yet even I want you to chew your food,” Mollari said.

====

This is pre-Portraits, and is the story of the establishment of all the things Na'Toth finds there. It's mostly called "Sleep" for now but could gain a proper title as it forms. There's a Lot of this one.

“There is...” Mollari inhales deeply and then drops onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, legs dangling over the side, pillow still in one hand.  “There is something happening.  There is something wrong.  I used to understand this place, but now I – No.  No,  I used to believe I understood.  But it is very possible I never did.”

“Admitting that is a good start.”

Mollari looks out the large window and into the night sky.  He's just barely lit by whatever satellite orbits this planet, and the artificial light from the display in the ornamental gardens outside the palace.  “I think it may be too late to be starting anything.”

“It is never too late,” G'Kar says gently.  It is funny - considering their violent history with each other - how much 'gentle' is required with Mollari lately. “Perhaps it is too late to save this thing or know that one, but starting now means there is something coming that you may yet know, save, or understand.”

Perhaps contemplating their past violence in his own way, Mollari holds his hands in front of him and regards them as though they are new, as though they are alien.  He laughs softly, bitterly, and then lets his hands drop to his sides.  “You found all this wisdom of yours in prison, did you?”

“I found it inside myself, but I happened to be in prison at the time.”

>>>>>>>>>>

From the same 'Sleep' build up to the situation as it presents itself in Portraits:

“I will be dead before I can trust everyone underneath me to make a sound decision.  Sometimes I don’t think I can trust myself to make them.”

“Then that’s why I’m here.”  

When a few seconds of silence pass, Mollari looks at him.  “Was that it?”

“Was what it?”

“I said something about my own decision making and you didn’t bring up anything at all?” Mollari laughs.  “I thought of at least three ways you could have punished me for that sentence the moment I finished it.”

“I’m feeling charitable. You refused a flower budget today, you’ve earned it.”

Mollari shakes his head and laughs softly.  The sound barely escapes all the layers of fabric he’s been draped in.  He slows his walk as he gazes up at the portraits above them.  “I think you are the only reason I am still sane, G’Kar.”

The sentiment is sweet, even for something not said in the safety of the dark.  As much as G’Kar could make it personal and steer things vulnerable or frightening, he aims instead for the kind of comfort required in daylight.  “I’m flattered, but considering I’m living here of my own free will, we may have reason for concern regarding you using me as a base for mental health.  What if we are both mad and just enabling each other?”

“Mmm.” Mollari pauses at the end of the row of portraits, regarding the last one and the empty space next to it before looking back to G’Kar.  “Well, I can think of worse people to go mad with.”