#I’m going to keep rotating the possibility of a story in my mind

[weaselishmcdiesel]

I need an au where nepeta lives and becomes super important like everyone else how am I supposed to make a gut wrenching katnep playlist when her story is so shooort

[puckinghischier]

Neighbors

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary - reader can’t bring herself to talk to her new neighbor

notes - guess who’s backkkkkk!!! y’all i have missed writing so much, and i’m so happy i could get this out to y’all. i’m a bit rusty so keep that in mind while reading, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. and as always, happy reading 🫶🏼

request - from my 400 follower celly - “Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission!” “What do you mean abort mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” “Yeah, and he’s too attractive. I can never speak to him again” with either luke or nico

[3.3k]

“I really think today is the day, Mia,” you speak in to the cell phone wedged in-between your shoulder and cheek, putting away a few decorative trinkets on the newly hung shelf above your TV.

“You’re telling me you’re actually going to talk to him?” She questions, her tone telling you she doesn’t believe you in the slightest.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you miss ‘I don’t believe my best friend has the guts to talk to a cute guy,’” you huff out, stretching your arm as much as you can to reach the high shelf.

“I mean, your track record precedes you, Y/N. You’ve said for three weeks now you’re going to introduce yourself and the universe has given you every opportunity possible,” she references the several hallway and elevator encounters you’ve told her about. “but, instead of hearing about a meet cute to an epic love story each week, all I get are stories of why you couldn’t say more than a garbled hi to him before darting into your apartment.”

Finally reaching the shelf, you huff both in response to her statement and the large reach you just accomplished.

After moving in to your new apartment a month and a half ago, you learned on your second day here that your neighbor directly across the hall from you is the most attractive guy you’ve ever met.

You ran into him while carrying a few boxes up to your new space, almost plowing him over while stepping out of the elevator because of your blocked field of view from the stack of boxes.

You apologized profusely, your line of sight still blocked, telling the stranger you know you shouldn’t be carrying this many boxes at once, but you really didn’t want to make another trip down and up. You made a bad joke about deciding to test out your sonar detection incase your eye sight ever left, and gave a few low, drawn-out beeps resembling those you’ve heard on TV.

When you heard the deep chuckle from the other side of the boxes, you turned yourself sideways to see who you almost ran over.

The man standing before you was simply the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. His dark, incredibly soft looking hair matched his dark brown eyes perfectly. The light dusting of facial hair covering his face was definitely working in his favor. The smile on his face was really what made your cheeks heat, though.

Feeling the embarrassment of your terrible joke creep up your neck, you slipped out one more sorry and then all but sprinted to your (thankfully) unlocked door, not even offering your name.

It was that night you told Mia about the handsome stranger, vowing that you were going to redeem yourself one of these days.

Since then, you’ve ran into him what seems like every other day, but never could find the brain power to actually speak to him. It’s either the cliché of both of you leaving your apartment at the same time, or you both end up in the elevator together in complete silence due to your avoidance of uttering anything embarrassing in the confined space. There was one time you unknowingly parked your car beside of his, the two of you walking together the entire way up from the garage to your floor with only a small hi and a wave from you, because you pretended to be listening to your headphones in order to avoid awkward small talk.

“Well, I was never ready all of those times,” you rotate your shoulder in a few circles, trying to work out the small sting you caused. “This time I’m ready. I can feel it.”

“If I was the one living next to him I’d be feeling something alright,” Mia quips back in a suggestive tone, leading you to scoff at her raunchy joke.

“Mia, I’m being serious. I think today’s the day. It’s Tuesday, so I’m pretty sure he should be getting back from the gym around three, which means if I go down to the lobby and pretend to be getting back from a walk around that time I’ll have the perfect in,” you confide your plan in her, having thought about your strategy since last night.

“You are being so insane right now, can you even hear yourself? Just go knock on his door and ask to borrow sugar or something. Then, when he asks what you’re cooking, invite him over for dinner and BAM! a date you didn’t even have to try for,” she suggests.

“Mia, that sounds like the start to a bad porno, I’m not doing that,” you refuse her suggestion right as you hear several loud voices coming from the hallway outside of your door.

Walking over to look into the small peephole, you see not only your attractive neighbor, but several other insanely good looking-men standing outside of his door. You look down at the watch on your wrist, noticing it’s only two, confused as to why he’s home right now.

You can hear Mia chattering away in your ear, but you have no clue what she’s saying, your brain too focused on the men in your hallway.

“Mia, shut up. He’s home,” you interrupt your best friend, causing her to pause momentarily.

“What do you mean he’s home? Did you not just tell me he would be home at three?” she asks you.

“I mean, that’s how it’s been every Tuesday until now. But he’s home. And he has…friends over,” you whisper, worried that if you can hear them they can hear you.

“Friends? Like, other guys? Or does he have a bunch of girls over? Y/N, if he has a bunch of girls at his apartment right now maybe this isn’t the kind of guy you want to go after. Seems like he can’t make up his mind. Or maybe he’s trying to be the next Hugh Heffner and is holding auditions out of his apartment,” you listen to her ramble. “And if that’s true you definitely don’t want to involve yourself with all that. I mean, can you imagine-“

“Mia, so help me God if you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’ll hang up on you,” you snap out, not enjoying her wandering mind.

Watching the men on the other side of your door laugh and converse has you even more curious. You’ve wondered since you moved in what he does for work. The hours he comes and goes are often inconsistent and don’t line up with any job you know of. He never seems to have the same days off, and sometimes you even go several days without seeing any sign of him.

You’ve wondered if he was a doctor, because it would explain the late nights and odd hours, but you’ve never seen him wearing scrubs, all of the men in the hallway currently sporting athletic wear. You thought maybe he was a lawyer, because you see him wearing suits pretty often, but he never carries a briefcase or anything else to prove your theory. You’ve even contemplated that he owns his own company, seeing as he seems to work when he wants and would explain the random down time in the middle of week days.

Of course, you understand you also have a lot of free time during the week, but you have a typical, nine to five office job, you just haven’t started at your new branch yet. Which is partially to blame for the new found obsession with your new neighbor’s whereabouts. You have way too much free time on your hands.

“Damn, someone’s grumpy today. It’s all that pent up frustration from not talking to mystery man. Just go outside and say hi already. Or is today really not the day?”

Even though she can’t see you, you roll your eyes at your friend’s words.

She’s teased you endlessly about this since the second you mentioned him to her. She’s even made a tally of how many times you’ve claimed you were going to speak to him and then didn’t (13 times to be exact). You know she’s just poking fun, but you also know she won’t stop doubting you until you actually do it.

It’s this that prompts you to tell her “You know what, fuck it. Today is the day,” and open your door.

The voices in the hallway stop, all four heads turning to look at you.

Your phone is still being held to your ear with one hand, while the other hangs down at your side.

Your neighbor, standing in the middle of the group, gives you a warm smile, taking in your appearance.

When you look down at your stained t-shirt and your neon pink pajama pants, you mentally palm your forehead, not even thinking to change before making your grand gesture.

Looking back up at the group, heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks, you freeze, the simple “Hi” lost on your tongue.

With furrowed brows and a tilted head, your neighbor speaks out a soft, “Hey there, you okay?”

You nod your head a little too aggressively and manage to squeak out a ‘Fine! Peachy! Never been better!” before slamming your door.

Turning and leaning against the cool door, you close your eyes and try to block out the memory of what just happened.

“Girl…I don’t know what just happened, but that didn’t sound like a hi,” Mia speaks from the phone, startling you, having completely forgotten you were on the phone.

“Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission,” you shake your head no.

“What? Abort mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor? Just go back out there and try again,” she suggests, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah, and he’s too attractive. I can never speak to him again. Plan be damned, I’m going to have to move apartments again,” you whine out to her, letting the dramatics take over.

“Oh shut up, it’s not that bad. I’m sure he’s already back to talking about whatever with his friends. He’s probably not even going to remember it by the next time you see him,” she refuses to play into your drama. “Plus, you’re a catch. I’m sure he’s been as curious about you as you are about him. Sometimes the silent treatment works wonders.”

A knock on the door you’re leaning against startles you, causing you to jump away from it as if it’d burned you.

“Mia, someone’s knocking,” you whisper, looking out of the peep hole to see your neighbor’s smiling face looking back at you.

You let out a small yelp, jumping back again while covering your mouth with your hand, knowing it’s likely he just heard you.

“Mia it’s him. He’s literally knocking on my door, what do I do?” you ask he as he knocks again.

“Oh my god, you dumbass, answer it! This is your in!” she exclaims through the speaker.

“I can’t answer it! I’m wearing a ridiculous outfit! And I just opened and slammed my door in his face like a freak. Plus-“ you’re cut off by a muffled voice.

“You alright in there? I know you’re standing at the door, I can hear your voice. I just want to make sure you’re okay and didn’t need anything. Sorry if we startled you,” his accented voice carries through the thin door.

“I’m hanging up now, go talk to your man,” Mia chuckles and hangs up the phone, leaving you on your own to deal with the situation before you.

Cursing her, you bring your phone away from your face and wipe your hands on your fluffy pants.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” you speak through the door.

“You know, if you open the door I won’t bite,” your neighbor jokes, causing another wave of embarrassment to settle in your stomach, not knowing why you decided that talking to him through the door was a normal thing to do.

Taking a step towards the door, you reach for the handle and open it. You’re greeted with the handsome stranger standing not even a foot from your door, no sign of his friends.

He gives you an amused, but warm smile.

“See? It’s just little old me out here,” he brings his hands up in a surrender pose.

You give him a nervous laugh.

Observing his athletic attire, you admire the poorly hidden muscles peeking out from under his compression shirt. The sight makes your cheeks tinge red once again.

When he senses you’re not going to speak, he breaks the silence instead.

“So, you sure you’re okay? You seemed a little…frazzled a few minutes ago. Wanted to make sure we didn’t scare you or anything,” he starts. “I imagine four large hockey players standing outside of your door might seem a little intimidating to a single woman living alone,” he brings his hands down from his face, sticking them in the pockets of his athletic pants.

You wonder if the surprise is evident on your face. In all the time you’ve spent brainstorming about his career, hockey never crossed your mind. You knew your new city had a huge hockey following, but you never thought you were living across from one of the sports’ players.

Realizing you still haven’t said anything, you clear your dry throat.

“Oh, no, you guys didn’t scare me. I just…I don’t know why I opened the door, to be honest. Guess I had a major brain fog moment or something,” you lie, hoping he buys your lame explanation.

The man standing in front of you lets out a small laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, as long as we didn’t scare you, I guess we’re alright then.”

“Yup, we’re good,” you pop the ‘p’, rocking on your heels slightly, needing to channel your nervous energy somehow.

You expect this to be the end of the conversation, but he still stands there, observing you.

“So, do I get to know your name, neighbor?” he questions you, breaking the silence between the two of you for the second time.

His question surprises you slightly, not expecting him to drag the conversation out any longer.

“Well, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you hear the words come out of your mouth, with an unintentional flirtatious undertone.

“Nico,” he tells you with a smirk, leaving room for your own reply.

“Y/N,” you move to cross your arms over your chest.

“Since you didn’t protest, I’m guessing you are?” he asks vaguely, causing your brows to furrow in confusion.

“I’m what?”

“Single and living alone,” his smirk only deepens.

Well shit. Is he…flirting with you? While you’re dressed like this? And have only ever made terrible impressions on him before?

“Well, Nico, that depends on why you’re asking,” your mouth is apparently miles ahead of your brain right now, not knowing where this sudden burst of confidence and flirty personality is coming from. “Are you asking because you’re curious about your weird new neighbor, or are you asking because you’re some kind of serial killer that’s stalking his prey?”

This earns a real laugh from him, not just a short chuckle, and you want to melt at the sound.

“I’m asking because I think my new, ‘weird’ neighbor just so happens to be very attractive, but I can tell that she’s far too shy to ever make a move on her own, so I figured I’d help her out a little bit,” he leans forward slightly.

His words make your mouth snap shut and causes you to stand up a little taller, not at all prepared for the conversation to take this direction.

All these weeks of you avoiding Nico, dodging him in the hallway and the elevator, flat out ignoring him from the car garage to your doors, not even being able to say one coherent word to him, and it’s all been pointless? He’s been thinking about you all this time too?

You feel so stupid in this moment. Knowing that he caught you, and knew that you were running from him this whole time makes you squirm, and not in a good way.

Your mind immediately goes back to Mia’s words not only earlier today, but every other time you’ve discussed the man standing before you. Her insistence that you were psyching yourself out for nothing and all you had to do was talk to him echoes through your mind.

“Oh…uh…well…in that case, yeah. I live single. Wait, no, I mean, I’m alone,” you wince, hearing the trainwreck coming out of your mouth. “Okay, I’m just going to shut up now and nod my head,” you shake your head yes, preventing any more jumbled words.

Nico laughs at you once again, clearly amused and not at all repulsed by your awkward nature.

“Well, I live single too. Just incase you were wondering,” he echoes your previous word stumble, shoulders still shaking from laughter.

“Twinsies,” you blurt out, holding your hand out for a high-five.

Before you can make your brain work like a normal, functioning person, Nico slaps his open palm against yours, biting his lip to keep from laughing again.

“I think I’m going to stop while I’m still slightly ahead,” you start, taking a step back into your apartment. “Thanks for checking on me, but clearly I’m lacking any coherent braincells right now, so I think I’m gonna get back to decorating,” you try to end the conversation, not wanting to give yourself anymore embarrassing moments to keep you up at night.

“Wait!” Nico quietly shouts, his face showing it was his turn to be embarrassed, clearly not meaning to have screamed in your face.

You pause the closing of your door, staring at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just, do you want to grab dinner sometime? If you’re not interested that’s fine, but I wanted to at least put the offer out there before I don’t get the chance to speak to you again for another month,” he rushes his words a bit.

You’re so shocked you just stand there and stare at him for a solid minute, the braincells you lacked mere minutes ago now bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Nico stands there expectantly, waiting on either an acceptance or rejection.

“Are you sure?” is what you manage to come up with.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Nico huffs out a laugh through his nostrils. “I’ll even do all the talking if you want.”

You knew you were already going to accept, but his offer made you feel slightly warmer inside. Obviously, he’s been victim to your inability to coherently speak during moments like these, but not pressuring you to carry a majority of the conversation and still wanting to spend the time with you despite your nervous habit sealed the deal even further.

Not trusting yourself to not botch your words once again, you nod your head yes, unable to hide the smile that makes its way onto your face.

Nico returns your smile, a triumphant look in his eyes letting you know he was genuinely worried you’d say no.

“Alright. Good. Awesome. Great.” Is all he says, taking a small step back towards his door.

“Well now you sound like me,” you tease, that small bit of confidence making its way back to you.

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me already,” he shrugs. “See you around?” he continues to walk backwards until he meets his closed door, jumping slightly when he runs into the solid material.

You giggle at him, nodding your head yes again, finding his sudden nervousness cute.

“See you around, Nico,” you give a small wave before shutting your door, taking in what just happened.

You unlock the phone still in your hand, clicking on Mia’s contact before bringing it up to your ear.

“Listen I know you’re mad at me, and I probably shouldn’t have hung up on you, but I knew you wouldn’t talk to him if I was on the phone and you needed a push, so really I did you a favor-“

“Mia, today was the day,” you interrupt another one of her rambles, grinning while hearing her screams to spill every detail.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario: Heian era childhood

Request by @serendipitylovescat

A/N: This is a possible origin story for Sukuna and Y/N in this onee-chan au, but I haven’t made up my mind as to how the two met and what their lives were like in the early days. Much like with the Joker’s multiple choice past, it’s the mystery that keeps on giving. Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE.

Trigger warning: child abuse, bullying, violence, swearing

Ryomen Sukuna. Two-faced Sukuna. Bastard. Murderer. Halfling. Demon.

Normally, parents give extra thought when naming their children. For a lot of boys, they’re usually named based on desired traits like “strong” or “powerful.” But for this son, his father snidely called him “two-faced” and the name stuck. 

Like every baby when they are born, Sukuna arrived in this world covered in blood and weeping. The other villagers could only think of the worst outcome for his mother. After all, so many young wives who were healthier than she died during labor, so it was only normal to expect the stick-thin woman to pass on. 

But for better or worse, she survived. 

A smooth delivery would normally be a thing of celebration, a living mother and her plump baby were supposed to be a blessing. For Sukuna’s parents, such a thing was a curse. 

Born with four arms and four eyes and suspiciously symmetrical birthmarks, such an abomination could only be a curse. 

His father suspected his wife of seducing a yōkai, he became a drunk and beat his wife daily, unwilling to even look at the thing that she claimed to be his own son. The other villagers believed that he ate his twin inside their mother and was punished by the gods. 

No one knew the truth, not even the child himself. 

One thing they could all agree on was this: Sukuna was a monster. 

He was a monster who pushed his father into doing bad things. He was a monster who caused his mother shame and suffering, as she loved to remind him every single day.

Sukuna leaned on the tree, watching as the other kids in their little village played tag. His stomach growled but he could only ignore it. If he returned home to eat, his mother would yell at him. He only ate when she was asleep or beaten into unconsciousness by his father.

“Found you.” 

Sukuna looked up and beamed. That’s right, everyone except one person hated him.

Unlike him, you were normal as far as his eyes could see, but you didn’t like staying in your house and you didn’t talk about your family. Neither of you liked anything or anyone in this village, only each other. 

“Onigiri with fatty tuna I caught this morning,” you said, sitting next to him. 

Sukuna voraciously bit into the rice and fish, savoring every moment with gratitude. “You’re the best cook I know.”

“Tell me if you want some tea. I managed to sneak some out.”

“Thanks–” his grin faded when he spotted familiar black and blue spots on your inner arm. They were the same bruises his mother had when she tried to block her husband’s hands.

“Who did this?” He asked, his three free hands grabbing your wrist.

“Ryo-chan,” you said his nickname–you were the only one who was never afraid of saying his name–“you’re hurting me.”

“S-sorry.” He pulled away two hands and softened the grip on the remaining one. He gently rotated your arm to get a better look. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Did you—”

“Hey, Ryo-chan…” You shook off his grasp, causing him to frown, but you quickly intertwined your fingers together, making him blush. “If I told you I plan to run away, will you come with me?”

He almost dropped the onigiri. 

Your smile became sad. “I… You’re the only one I will ever miss. I don’t like this place.”

He put his remaining hands over your connected fingers and he blurted out, “Yes!”

You blinked, wide-eyed.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I-I mean, yes, let’s go.”

Your face brightened and he smiled back. 

That’s right. Even if this damned village burned to the ground, as long as your hand never let go of his then nothing else mattered.

Additional headcanons for this scenario:

Sukuna’s dad never hit him because deep inside the man was actually afraid. So he took out his frustrations on his wife, who in turn, blames her misfortune on her son. 

Speaking of Sukuna’s mother, she was a vain beauty, the most gorgeous in their village during her prime, and was distraught when her appearance faded due to malnutrition during her pregnancy. The entire time, she silently prayed that the baby would die early so she could recover quickly. So in addition to her husband’s mistreatment of her, the loss of her looks has made her resent her son. 

The other village kids didn’t like Sukuna because he gave off a “disgusting energy” (or “bad vibes” as today’s lingo would call it). Some avoided him but others went out of their way to gang up on him, beating him up and stealing whatever he carried, be it food or toys from you.  

Sukuna didn’t fight back because he truly believed that he deserved every bad thing that happened to him. That being said, he allowed himself one selfish choice and accepted your company, enjoying your friendship. The only warmth in his otherwise dead existence.

The first time Sukuna resorted to violence was…it was a few days after your proposal. It was a few minutes before day break and he caught the other kids holding your head down a nearby pond. He didn’t know what he did, only what happened after: you were crying into his chest, hugging and thanking him despite the blood all over him. 

After washing himself, he walked you home, hair and clothes still wet from the pond, your mother was the first person to see you. Instead of concern or worry, she slapped you across the face in front of everyone before dragging you away by the hair.

Because it was your mother, he could only watch on, until your eyes met and you whimpered his name.

That night, a little village with no more than fifty people, burned to the ground as two children watched hand in hand. 

A/N: Speaking of multiple choice past; in JJK (and sadly, even in real life parts of the world), twins are considered bad luck. What if Sukuna didn’t consume his twin in utero and they both survived? What if both fell for Y/N? What if the current Sukuna killed and ate his own brother because he wanted to, in his own sick way, combine himself and his twin into one being so that Y/N wouldn’t have to choose?? Hot damn. The perfect yandere love triangle. But what a pain that would be to write without illustration LOLOLOL.

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumanii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @boba–12

[blackleatherjacketz]

Favorite

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Female Reader

Summary: Santi figures out that Frankie came and saw you last night before he got a chance and makes you pay for it.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Exes Reuniting, Favoritism, Jealousy, Revenge Sex, Competition Kink, Praise Kink, Manipulation, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Come Eating (Accidental), Female Orgasm, Vaginal Intercourse, Woman On Top, Multiple Orgasms

Word Count: 2.8k+

A follow-up to FIRST

Read more of my stories HERE!

The expected pleasantries with Santi are cut short as you lead him into your living room, the warm glow of the table lamp doing little to hide the mark his best friend had deliberately left on your neck for him to see. You silently watch his handsome features twist into a frown as he begins going through all five stages of grief in a matter of seconds, depression staying just long enough before denial quickly counters it.

“What is that?” He touches you as if he hadn’t stopped doing so for years, as if it were only a matter of days since he last walked through your front door and kissed you goodbye.

“It’s nothing.” You lie in order to keep his hands on you, to relish in that feeling of him physically caring for you like he did so long ago before he up and left. His fingers are warm against your skin, rough and calloused as they press into your cheek, turning your face to get a better look at the mark. It takes every ounce of self control for you not to touch him back, not to fall into the muscle memory of your intimate relationship that you never really had the chance to get over.

“Nothing, huh?” He rotates your face from side to side, placing his opposite hand on your shoulder to keep you steady as he carefully inspects your new bruise. “It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing.” He loosens his grip on your chin.

“It’s just…” You wrack your brain for some kind of story to feed him, one that you might even believe enough to properly convince him of as well. Maybe you got distracted while you were curling your hair? Or maybe your massage therapist got a little carried away when they tried to do the new cupping technique? Or maybe…?

“Did Frankie drop by here last night?” He interrupts your thoughts with a slightly worried tambre. “Because he joked about coming over here after he dropped me off, but I didn’t think he was fucking serious.”

He looks up at you with those eyes, those eyes that could easily make you spill your guts within seconds of staring into your soul with their deep mahogany hue. Eyes that could lull you into a false sense of security, pulling you in just close enough for you to forget everything else around you. Eyes that could soften your heart at its hardest, change your mind, or make you agree to do things you normally wouldn’t want to do. Those eyes of his were much more powerful than you ever really gave them credit for.

“Did he come to see you?” He asks again, barely blinking.

Only you don’t answer; purposefully averting your gaze from his hypnotic stare. Maybe if you don’t look at him he won’t be able to see the truth that’s undoubtedly painted all over your face.

Silence.

He laughs to himself and brushes his palm over his face. “Aye pendejo,” he whispers under his breath. “I should’ve fucking known.”

“Santi, look, I…” you start without knowing where you could possibly finish.

“What? You think I’m fucking stupid?” Anger rears its ugly head as the tone in his voice starts to escalate. “You let him in here just like last time, huh?” He snaps his fingers before pointing in the direction of your bedroom. “Just like that? You let him slip in here even when you knew I was coming over here tonight?”

God, he looks so fucking good when he’s angry. There’s something about him getting all hot and bothered over another man beating him to the punch to get into your bed, even if it was his best friend; even if it had happened before. That territorial look in his eyes brings his face that much closer to yours, his full lips parting as they quickly fill with blood.

“You and I aren’t together anymore,” you remind him as his palm remains on your shoulder, his thumb gently brushing against your clavicle. “And how the hell was I supposed to know if you would actually come over tonight instead of just disappearing like you did last time?” You match his volume and intensity. “Huh?!”

More silence.

“I deserve that.” He hangs his head so you can clearly see the silver streaks as they weave into the rest of his charcoal curls. “Look, I know we’re not together anymore. I do. Of course I know that, but I just thought…” he sighs, pausing for what seems like an eternity. “But Frankie? Again? Really? No wonder he was asking who I was texting!”

“You can leave if you want to,” you goad him, bringing your face in closer with a tone you know will challenge him just enough to stay.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head and takes a second to chase away the disappointment by pushing you back up against the wall, keeping his grip tight on your shoulder. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Have his way with you without any repercussions?” He licks his lips as he stares at your hickey, running his thumb across your discolored skin. “Marking you like that.”

You can’t help but let a triumphant grin cross your face as you watch that seed of competition begin to grow within him, pounding through the veins in his temples as he stares at you intently.

“It doesn’t matter, anyways,” you say as his lips draw closer to yours. “He may have gotten here first, but that’s only because he knows that you’re my favorite.” You slide your knee up between his thighs, gently nudging his growing bulge as his lips part mere centimeters away from your own.

“Your favorite, huh?” His whisper dampens your lips as he smooths his palm across your shoulder until it reaches your neck, squeezing just affectionately enough to excite your senses.

Now we’re talking.

“He doesn’t know my body like you do, Santi.” You cup his face and stroke the stubble along his cheek as he continues holding onto your throat. “He doesn’t take his time with me like you always do, or put in the work to make my body crave you the very second that I see you...”

“Shut up.” His kiss cuts your words short, that all too familiar taste of cheap beer fresh on his tongue as it parts your lips with a hunger that rivals that of your early years together.

You find yourself nodding into his lips without uttering another word, bringing both hands up to cradle his face as he slides his other hand beneath your shirt. You moan into him as he palms the muscles in your lower back, pulling you in close to warm your core against his. You can feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, thumping in his chest as the heat between you begins to rise.

“How many times did he fuck you, last night, huh?” He lets go of your throat and pulls your shirt off, dropping it at your feet before quickly kissing you again.

“Just once,” you answer breathlessly, the shade of your lipstick now tinting his lips as he kisses your chin and jaw.

“Mmm, so fucking lazy,” he mumbles into your neck with a slight chuckle. He suddenly shifts his weight and turns around with you, pushing you backward onto the couch. Forcing you to sit down in front of him, he digs his hooks into you one more time by locking onto you with those blackened, lustful eyes. He smirks and slowly starts unfastening his belt, pushing his pants down his thighs at an agonizing pace while you carefully watch him with bated breath. “Show me the rest of your body, baby.”

Chills run down your spine as you nod again in response, watching him free himself from his clothes, his girth always a sudden shock to your system no matter how many times you’ve seen it before. You can feel the moisture begin to pool between your thighs as you find yourself instinctively doing as you’re told, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. You still can’t believe how lucky you are to have spun his jealousy around, unable to look away as he spits on his palm without breaking eye contact, stroking himself in such a languid, gratuitous manner.

“Let’s see how wet you get for your favorite, aye cariño?” He steps out of his shoes and pants before kneeling down in front of you.

The sight of his face between your thighs is almost more intoxicating than watching him stroke himself, his hooded lids adorned with lashes that brush your delicate skin as he presses kisses into your knees all the way up your inner thighs. Those eyes of his finally close as his mouth reaches your needy center, a muffled moan leaving his lips as he eagerly tastes your arousal. A ripple of pleasure moves its way up your body, pulsing through your core and up into your spine as he licks a slow, torturous stripe up your soaking wet length.

“Just what I thought.” He runs two fingers up and down your puffy lips before spreading them apart, focusing solely on the dew that clings between them. “You get this wet for Frankie last night?”

“No,” you can barely breathe your answer as he dips his fingertips into your entrance to collect the evidence, spreading it up and over your clit.

It isn’t until just now that you remember Frankie’s words from before: ‘I want him to taste my come when he goes down on you tomorrow night’; a promise that sounded more like a threat at the time. Was it possible that Frankie could still be oozing out of you even now? Changing the way you taste to your former lover? Or had your own juices been enough to disguise the remnants of his release as Santi painstakingly splays you open?

Guess you’ll never know.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He raises an eyebrow as he runs his fingers back down, delving them deep inside your walls without warning.

“Never,” you admit with a gasp, holding your breath as the ridges of his calloused fingers glide over that special spot inside, pushing and pulling against it as his thumb rubs slow, tantalizing circles into your swollen bud.

“Good.” His tongue quickly takes over again, greedily lapping up your slick in a perfectly blissful pattern, his spit now mixing with your sex and Santi’s release as it drips out of you and down the crevices between your cheeks.

His unmatched oral skills nearly send you into a dreamlike state as that ripple from before spreads throughout your entire body. It wades through your nervous system, expanding in diameter as it reaches new heights and widths, washing over you in varying waves of delight. The rhythm of his fingers speeds up as your hips roll into them, instinctively moving with the rush of ecstasy he sucks into your clit by eventually pulling it into his mouth and past his teeth.

Without even stopping to take a breath, his mouth massages that last bit of pleasure into your deliciously sensitive bud without an ounce of mercy. His groans vibrate against your skin as your body trembles beneath him, succumbing to his expert ministrations as you find yourself drowning in the euphoria that only he could deliver in such a skilled, efficient manner. You cry out his name as that delectable feeling rips through you in a matter of seconds, bursting through every vein and artery in your body until the waters inside you eventually ebb to a calm, still state.

“I almost forgot how beautiful you look when I make you come.” He finally says, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as your moisture glistens across his face.

“Jesus,” you huff, nearly jolting away as he pulls his fingers out, grazing them over your clit one more time before rising to his feet. “I almost forgot how good you are at that.”

“Better than our boy Frankie?” He sits down next to you on the couch and grabs onto your hips, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion.

“Are you kidding?” You try to catch your breath as you settle onto the tops of his thighs, not yet ready for his cock as it stands at full attention against his stomach. “He didn’t even do that for me.”

“Amateur,” Santi whispers before kissing you, taking the time to spread your flavor into every corner of your mouth as his hands delicately venture up your backside and into your hairline.

You could almost convince yourself that things were how they used to be when you’re facing him like this, kissing each other as if you’re dying to know what each other tastes like for the very first time. You could get lost in the smell of his sweat and cologne that haven’t changed in all these years, relish in the warmth of his hands as they caress your shaking muscles, and delight in the distinct taste of his kiss. If you tried hard enough, you could almost convince yourself that you still slept together in the same bed, lived in the same house and ate your meals at the same time together; but all that had come and gone. All you have now is this.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you mumble to bring yourself out of that unhelpful line of thinking, playfully running your fingers through his hair.

“Of course I do, I taste like your pussy.” He nips at your bottom lip before kissing you again, giving you another opportunity to savor that tartness between your legs before suddenly pulling away. “Now why don’t you hop on and prove to me that I’m your favorite.”

Wow.

Trying your best not to act too shocked at his words, you nod and lift your hips off his thighs as he grabs hold of himself at the base, stroking the few droplets of precum over his shaft as he takes you in. He looks up as you move your pelvis forward, grinning from ear to ear as you attempt to line yourself up with him, only he keeps moving against you.

“You wanna act like a little slut, huh?” He glides his cock across your overstimulated bud before lining up with your entrance, watching your mouth fall slack with each pass as every neuron in your body ignites again. “Well, you’re my little slut.” He brushes over it another time, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as bright stars start flashing in the background of your vision. “Right?”

“Right!” You moan as he finally guides himself into your entrance, pulling you down with his other hand on your hip.

He groans as you slowly envelop him, your freshly lubricated walls already contracting around his girth as it stretches you out more than Frankie ever could. With a whisper of your name, his breath quickens as you take him in completely, your thighs now flush against his before you gather the strength to sit up again. He smooths both hands up and down your spine as you begin to ride him, mewling his name against his forehead as those stars become brighter behind closed lids.

He squeezes the base of your neck as he bottoms out again, thrusting up into you with a sort of frantic desperation you’ve never seen in him before. Every buck of his hips forces those stars in your eyes to become brighter, to shine in blinding shades of different colors as they spin around on their axes. You hear him grunt something in Spanish, the last of his sounds becoming more breathy as he sends pulse after pulse of heated pleasure shooting up through your nervous system until his thrusts force your body to convulse around him.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he lets slip as he pulls you down one last time, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing against the walls of your living room as he spasms and twitches inside you with a pathetic growl.

“I love you, too,” your innate reaction to his words comes without thinking, your current state hijacking any common sense that might make you respond differently.

Instead of correcting himself or apologizing, he leaves his words hanging in the air, just as naked and bare as he is now as he finishes spilling himself inside of you. He kisses you even deeper, pulling you further into him as if to merge the two of your bodies into one until his thrusts eventually slow to a complete stop.

Continuing to ignore his sudden confession, he rests his head against your chin and guides his palms over the curves of your body as the aftershock of your shared orgasm phases through you both. He hums the tune of your favorite song as he continues smoothing out all the gooseflesh that had formed on your skin until both of your breathing has steadied.

“I’m sorry I left.”

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei - Side Story 1

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

"Even without a guide, the stars continue to rotate"

Man with purple eyes: "What are you doing here?"

Mitsuki: "U-Um, I..."

She suddenly appeared in this distorted fate and in that despair-filled garden.

As I prepared for my lecture at the university office, I recalled the incident that took place yesterday.

(I never expected “that girl” to appear before me.)

That girl, who came from the East, suddenly found herself in a mansion where historical figures who had become vampires lived.

The master of that mansion, a pureblood, revived the men and gave them a second life.

But that girl, upon observation, seemed nothing more than just an ordinary human.

(Did she use the door to come here, or did she simply wander in?)

(In any case, inexplicable things started happening after she appeared.)

(The future, which I saw once using the door, has changed.)

The future had changed after those influential figures revived, and fate started changing even more since that girl appeared.

(Who on earth is that girl?)

At that moment, the voice of a man living with me crossed my mind.

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: “But if you really met her by chance, then maybe that means something.”

Drake: “She might be that woman of destiny, after all.”

---------Flashback Ends--------

(Is it some sort of guidance?)

(But whether there’s causality remains unclear. I need to keep an eye on her.)

I was still lost in thought when someone suddenly knocked on the door.

Galileo: “Come in.”

I turned around, thinking that it was most likely a student who had come to ask a question about the lecture.

Mitsuki: “Excuse me. I’m here to deliver something to Professor Maury.”

(----!)

The girl I was just thinking about was standing right in front of me.

Galileo: "You're the one from yesterday."

She seemed taken aback, as if she didn't expect to meet me again.

Mitsuki: "Um, I…"

Galileo: "How long are you going to stand there? Come in."

As she stepped inside, she bowed her head.

Mitsuki: "I'm Mitsuki. I apologize for intruding into the garden yesterday!"

Mitsuki: "I was walking around town and happened to stumble upon that place."

Galileo: "You're not a student here, are you? So, why are you here today?"

Mitsuki: "I came to the university to see Professor Ayscough and to deliver these documents the president asked me to."

Mitsuki: "I didn't realize you were Professor Maury. So…"

Galileo: "I see. Another coincidence, perhaps."

(Right, considering the possibilities, it's not entirely impossible.)

Professor Ayscough. Isaac Newton was also living in that mansion.

It wouldn't be unnatural for her to come to the university for some business.

It'd be too early to interpret this reunion as guidance or fate, but…

(To begin with, the fact that she stumbled upon that garden seems a bit too convenient.)

(Maybe Drake is right in saying that fate is in motion.)

And am I the one being drawn into it?

(If so, perhaps the "world" is once again trying to deny me.)

(Like my brethren.)

I suppressed the faint surge of frustration welling inside me.

Galileo: "I've received the documents."

Mitsuki: "Then, I'll be going now."

I looked up and asked her a question.

Galileo: "Some say that when coincidences pile up, they become inevitable."

Galileo: "Even turning into destiny."

Galileo: "What do you think?"

She showed a confused expression at my sudden question.

(Even though we're facing each other like this, she still looks like an ordinary human.)

Nevertheless, she looked straight at me and spoke up.

Mitsuki: "Sorry, I don't know how to answer that, but…"

Galileo: "But?"

Mitsuki: "Whether it's coincidence or fate, I think it's up to each person how they perceive and choose to interpret it."

(Up to oneself, huh?)

Galileo: "So, it's up to oneself to govern fate. Is that what you're saying?"

Mitsuki: "I didn't mean to make it sound so dramatic."

I could understand her response.

Humans live through multiple choices, so in that sense, it's up to oneself to carve out their own destiny.

(But I know of a fate that cannot be changed.)

A fate of scorn, of being shunned, and of hopeless despair.

(..........)

As the scenes I've witnessed flashed through my mind, her answer, believing that one can carve out their own destiny, seemed terribly arrogant.

After she left, some students came to visit the office.

Galileo: "Are you suggesting it's fate, then?"

Student: "Professor? Is everything alright?"

Galileo: "It's nothing."

I averted my gaze from the door she exited and turned on my heel.

Galileo: "I'll fulfill my purpose until the end."

(No matter what happens, I've got to make sure I stay out of whatever fate that girl's bringing.)

Even as I held such determination within my heart, her eyes, staring back at me, somehow remained in my mind.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[msmargaretmurry]

Do you have thoughts on Quinn Hughes/Matthew Tkachuk ?

oh, friend, do i!!! i feel like something not everyone knows about me On Here is that i'm a voracious multi-shipper, so obviously even though i love matthew/leon and brady/quinn a lot, i have a whole bunch of other ships for all of them that i love to rotate in my mind.

matthew/quinn is high on the list because: a) i love both of their mama's boy eldest siblingness a lot and think that would make it fun to mash them together, b) i'm such. SUCH. a sucker for a "crush on my best friend's older brother" scenario, and c) ooooh the brady of it all. feeling like they have to sneak around because it feels weirdly like they're betraying brady by hooking up but feeling equally weird about keeping it a secret from brady? oh yes. telling themselves it's fine to keep the secret because it's ~nothing serious~ and then whoops at some point it got serious? brady finding out about the secret relationship at the worst moment possible? the possibilities for family drama and friendship drama in addition to romantic drama are RICH. or, something where it starts out with quinn having some unrequited brady feelings but matthew is the one available? i have told a few people that i've always felt there was an alternate timeline version of head above water where leon doesn't come to toronto to train but matthew winds up going to boots with the hugheses anyway, and he and quinn hook up there and wind up on their own long dramatic journey to falling in love. it would have been a completely different story from HAW but i HAVE pondered it.

that all being said, i do feel a little feral about this pairing whenever i see these pictures or think about jack referring to matthew and brady collectively as "quinn's boys." i don't have a link, but that interview where quinn says that between matthew and brady he likes playing against brady better, because he loves getting to see brady and matthew is SO annoying to play against? also fuels me.

a while back i wrote this little snippet for someone on twitter — i can't remember what the prompt was, it was one of those 'give me a pairing and one word and i'll write a tiny fic' things. anyway i think it's the only matthew/quinn i have actually written, but i'm quite fond of it, so please enjoy:

"So," Quinn says, leaning against the bar next to Matthew. "Is it weird to see your little brother get married before you?"

The bartender is making Matthew yet another of the 'his' option from the themed his'n'hers cocktails, even though Brady’s drink of choice is a little too sweet and it’s starting to make Matthew’s teeth hurt. Matthew waits until he's finished, thanks him for the drink, then joins Quinn in facing outward toward the reception. It's in full swing, joyous and messy. Brady, of course, is in the center of it all, sweaty and beaming, his tie nowhere to be found.

"Nah, " he says. "We always knew he'd get hitched first. You know him, he's a fuckin' romantic."

"He’s a sap," Quinn agrees. Quinn is drinking a beer, and he’s only a little sweaty. His tie is loosened but where it’s supposed to be, his groomsman's tuxedo (sans jacket) still in good shape. Better shape than Matthew’s. Matthew does know where his tie is, it’s just not on his person. His shirt is half-unbuttoned; his waistcoat is fully unbuttoned. He is almost as drunk as he looks. Judging on the same criteria, Quinn is not nearly drunk enough.

"You look like you need to party harder," Matthew says, bumping his shoulder to Quinn's.

"Working on it." Quinn holds his beer up.

"These are stronger." Matthew counters with his cocktail.

"Those are gonna give you the worst headache tomorrow," Quinn says, but he takes the glass out of Matthew’s hand and drains half of it anyway.

Matthew grins. "Atta boy."

"Ugh."

"Yeah."

"Why are you even drinking that?"

Matthew shrugs. "I’m being supportive."

"There are better ways to show Brady you love him," Quinn says, but he says it with a laugh, so Matthew is pleased with himself. Quinn’s not an easy guy to make laugh, unless you’re Brady or one of Quinn's brothers. He offers Quinn the rest of the drink, but Quinn waves him off to go back to his beer, and they’re quiet for a moment, watching the crowd on the dance floor bounce along with an Imagine Dragons remix.

"I think it's gonna feel pretty weird," Quinn says. "When Jack and Luke get married before me."

"You’re so sure they will?" Matthew asks. Quinn gives him a look like he’s a little bit stupid.

"I’m not dealing with that while I’m still playing," he says.

"Right," Matthew says, indeed feeling a little bit stupid, because, you know, same hat. "Yeah. Yeah, I know, but I’m also like, it’s not like I have someone waiting in the wings to meet me at the altar or whatever. I’m not even close."

"Yeah, that too." Quinn finishes his beer, then looks back out at the dancing mob, his expression pinching. "I kinda wanna get out of here for a little bit. Don’t tell Brady I said that."

Outside, by moonlight and lamplight, it's easier to see the pink flush of Quinn's cheeks, the sweat staining his collar. The summer air is sticky, but it’s somehow refreshing anyway. The wedding venue is surrounded by gardens and vistas that are beautiful in the daytime but unnotable at night. They walk in silence until the thump of bass from inside fades, and Quinn clears his throat.

"I won’t," Matthew says, then, his mouth running ahead of his brain, "Yeah, come on, let's go." At Quinn’s dubious look, he sets his glass down and gestures grandly toward the door.

"I didn’t mean, like," he says, his face scrunching as he puts the innuendo into the next words. "Let’s get out of here. You know?"

"Yeah, I know," Matthew says quickly. "Me neither."

"Okay," Quinn says, and the acknowledgement somehow makes it easy not to know, a minute later, in the dark spot between lamp posts, who kisses who first. Makes it easy to recognize that the way Quinn kisses like he’s starving has nothing to do with Matthew himself, and easy for Matthew to just let himself fucking have something for ten whole minutes before they slip back onto the dance floor like they never left at all.

[nat-seal-well]

I’m in bed now because tomorrow I go in at 3 in the morning and I’m tired. But because I’m in bed, it means I can finally talk about an AU that won’t leave me alone :D

(And yeah, I know I already have 2 I’m working on. Tbh I don’t know if I’ll ever actually do anything with this third one, but it’s fun to think about and rotate around in my head like a Costco rotisserie chicken.)

I watched a movie the other day that was frankly, disappointing, but one of the few things I liked about it was that the love interest-person made dresses. He was a dick and his wife deserved way better (even though she poisoned him to put him in his place and I said “fuck yeah, do it again”), but I thought the whole dress-making thing was really cool. And then, because my mind works the way it does and it always likes to play with AUs, I said, “Hm, what if?”

This is also partially fueled by a very beloved book of mine. Some of my favorite parts in it are when the main character and her sisters are getting ready for a ball and getting sized and fitted for fancy dresses. Idk something about it just really appealed to me. Maybe I like pretty things too much. (To be completely honest, I know I do. It’s why I keep buying jewelry when I don’t actually like to wear any most of the time.)

I don’t have a clear plot for this AU like I do for the other two. Really it’s just a couple of scenes that are vaguely connected. Here’s what I’m thinking:

It would be set in, like, the 18th century or something bc let’s be honest everyone likes that.

Dressmaker!Marin who spends their days lost in their work in some tiny, little local shop that doesn’t get much recognition despite having a handful of very loyal customers.

They’re doing their usual thing when someone walks in and makes the bell above the door ring. This is a surprise, because they aren’t expecting anyone today. They don’t have any fitting appointments and while walk-ins are welcome, the shop doesn’t really get any.

So they put their work aside and make their way up to the front of the shop to greet whoever it is. And, of course, who else could it be but a certain very tall, and very pretty Nat?

(With a disgruntled Ava in tow. She does not want to be there.)

They make their introductions. Nat does most of the speaking, and talks about how she and her very dear friend aren’t from here—they’re visiting on prolonged business, she says. (Agency business, but Marin doesn’t know that.) It was very sudden and neither of them had time to pack properly, and she knows this is very short timing, but they’re going to be in town for a while, and would Marin possibly be kind and generous enough spend part of their day having them measured so they can place a few orders?

Ava says under her breath, “I don’t need new clothes.” To which Nat replies, too quietly for Marin to hear, “Your last dress is currently covered in werewolf blood. It’s either a new wardrobe, or you walk around for everyone to see in your shift.”

(Ava does not want to do that. She reluctantly agrees.)

Marin, of course, is more than willing to help. Partially because they’re eager for new customers, and partially because they find Nat very attractive and when they say yes, she smiles at them and it makes their heart jump. And their face feel warm. How strange.

Naturally, they move on to the actual measuring. Ava intimidates them and it goes smoothly, if more quiet than a usual appointment. They discovered quickly that she isn’t one for small talk. When it’s over and done with, it’s almost a relief.

With Nat, it’s a very different story. Nat makes conversation and is very insightful. She has a nice, soft laugh and makes them feel at ease, and has plenty of compliments to offer after seeing the dresses in display in the shop window. It’s safe to say that Marin is a very flustered mess, even though they’re enjoying her company. A lot.

There’s one moment where she has to get close with the measuring tape. Marin doesn’t notice at first until they realize they can smell the perfume she’s wearing, and then they look up—and wow, she is very tall, Marin has to tilt their head back to look her in the eye, and when did she get so close? They feel jumpy and take a step back, and try to play it off. If Nat almost trips over one of her sentences for some strange reason, Marin doesn’t notice.

Ava notices, though. Because of course she does.

The rest of the afternoon goes relatively smooth, even if Marin does make it a point to avoid making eye contact in order to keep their cool. Ava says she doesn’t care about the details of her garments, as long as they leave plenty of space for her to move around in like she needs. Nat isn’t picky either, though she does have a few things in mind. Marin says that they think she would look good in green.

They thank her, they pay for Marin for their time, and leave. And that’s that. That should be that.

Naturally, it isn’t. Not when Nat walks through the door again a few days later, but not to talk business. Instead, she says, it’s just… to see them. Just because she was “in the area” and thought she’d drop by. (Spoilers: she’s lying.)

One thing leads to another. Nat comes by more and more frequently, and Marin can’t help it when they wind up falling. Hard.

I just have this image in mind of them having quiet, private conversations in an empty shop as Marin works on sewing and beading and measuring fabric, while Nat sits on the other side of the work table and sips on cups of tea. It is soft and intimate and Marin finds they look forward to coming in more and more every day.

Naturally, when their work is done, there would be a scene where Marin is helping Nat into one of the dresses they made for her. Maybe they’re standing back to see it on her in its entirely, looking over their work to search for what can be improved, but oh no—the only thing they can actually focus on is now good Nat looks.

There’s a pause as Marin stands there and tries to get it together to think of something to say. They fail miserably. But why is Nat staring at them like that?

They clear their throat and open their mouth to offer an alteration they could make—a remark about it being just a little too long, or the sleeves extending just a bit too far, or something for them to fix so that Nat can keep visiting for just a little bit longer—but they never get to finish their thought. Because that’s when Nat takes a step forward and places her gloved hands very gently on either side of Marin’s face, and leans down to pull them into a kiss.

(It occurs to Marin later that she never actually looked herself over in the mirror once. Nat was too busy watching them.)

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story - Chapter 6

It’s been about a year since the whole multiverse debacle. 

Diana has promised to avoid any potential spells that might blast you across the galaxy.

More like you threatened her.

For the while she’s keeping her nose out of your business.

It would be a lie to say you don’t miss Castiel. For the first few months it was easy to bury yourself in your work, pretend, but every now and then you’ll walked past the park and catch a couple smiling at each other, or you'll see some angel ornament in a window, or at the mall and your mind would rush back to his face, those eyes, his beautiful wings.

Sometimes it feels like a dream, one you wish you can jump back into, if nothing but to see him again.

Seated at your desk, you look down at your hand, the memory of the ruby string hanging off your pinky.

“Maybe things will change, you never know. We were able to go there, so maybe he can come here. It’s a possibility.”

You knew Diana just wanted to bring you some kind of comfort, but it’s foolish to hold onto that, yet you can’t seem to move on. A part of you still feels like there was a reason you ended up there. Surely you were meant to meet him for a reason other than just to shamelessly gawk at each other.

You ball your fists, closing the file in front of you. There’s no way you can focus on filling out paperwork.

Might as well call it a day.

~The Spice Shop~

“Diana, have you seen the-oh thank you you’re a lifesaver.” 

Rosalee smiled as the bottle of herbs she’d been looking for floated right into her hands. Diana was seated at the table, eyes focused on her text as she nodded.

Monroe walked in from the back room, Kelly right behind him.

“Diana being a nuisance again?” He poked.

“Says the guy that got his but handed to him by a kid last week.”

“He’s a really well trained intern.” Kelly snarked, rotating his shoulder.

“How is life at the FBI, still pining after that quirky tech analyst at Quantico?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m taking her out for dinner this week.” He looked pretty proud of himself. Rosalee and Monroe exchanged a smile just as the bell rang, alerting them that someone had entered the shop.

Diana smiled the moment she saw you.

“(Y/N), you’re back early.”

“Couldn’t focus, so I left a bit early. I’m surprised you’re here Kelly. Got your butt kicked again and came to get some herbs to soothe the pain.”

He sent you a blank look as Diana burst out laughing.

“That’s my cue to leave. I know you're both just jealous because I’m the favorite.”

“Yeah, the favorite pain in the ass.” You quipped.

He ruffled your hair before waving as he existed. No doubt to head back to DC. He’d probably stopped by to see your parents and ultimately came to check in on Rosalee and Monroe. At this point it’s almost a habit for all of you.

When the door closed behind you, Diana sent you a look. You quirk a brow.

“What’s with the look?”

“You’re wearing that expression again.”

“What expression?”

“The sad lovesick expression.”

You just roll your eyes.

“I feel like you say this every other week.”

“Only because you look like that every other week.”

You just shrug it off. You can lie and say that you aren’t in fact lovesick, but even without powers Diana would see through that.

“I’m heading home, just wanted to see Kelly before he left. I’ll see you.”

Monroe and Rosalee send you smiles and the second you’re out the door Diana lets out a heavy sigh.

“This sucks. I really wish I could just zap him back here for her.”

Rosalee looks sympathetic.

“I can’t imagine what she’s going through. “

“I know. I still have a hard time believing you guys actually saw an angel.” Monroe adds.

Diana hums, laying her face in her palm as she tries to think of ways to heal your aching heart.

You’ve learned by now that she’s not someone who gives up easily, that’s why it’s not even surprising when she texts you the following morning with some attachments to dating sites. You laugh.

She’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

“Burkhardt!”

The call from your captain draws your attention. He gestures you into his office and you do so.

“Captain, what’s the case?”

He smiles.

“No case, we finally got you a partner. Hopefully you won’t glare this one away.”

“The last guy kept hitting on me. He’s lucky all he got was a glare.”

You were really close to pushing him into oncoming traffic.

“Well, can’t exactly fault you for that. That was a fumble on my part but I think I’ve finally cracked the code. Kline!”

His yell rings through the precinct and you laugh as you turn, awaiting whoever you’ll be forced to pair up with. The first thing your eyes track is the familiar trench coat, then that signature blue tie.

When your eyes truly connect, it’s almost like that first time, that first introduction, you’re almost convinced that you’re hallucinating because you’ve lost count of how many times you pictured him walking through that door. Yet, this time, it’s not as vague as your daydreams.

This feels real.

“(Y/N) Burkhardt, this is Castiel Kline, he’s new, transferred all the way from Quantico. He’s an exceptional agent from what I’ve read. Try not to kill each other.”

He basically shoves you both out of the office and you stumble. Castiel reaches out, steadying you and the touch, it’s still hard to fathom.

“Is it..really you Castiel?”

He nods, a little smile making its way on his face.

“It’s great to see you again (Y/N).”

You have no words, so you just hug him and he returns it, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit it all to memory. You can’t imagine anything more amazing than being in his arms.

“No fraternizing on the job!!”

The shout from your captain has other officers in the background laughing and you can’t help but do the same. 

[eyesonstars-feetonground]

Ted Lasso 3x12: Why the Finale Felt a Bit Hollow

I genuinely think the only way to end Ted’s arc was to have him return to Henry. There’s no world in which he would ask his son to move across the world to him, much less not return to him. And so much of Ted’s pain is centered around being far from Henry. In a way, being a parent does really overshadow every other part of your life...some are saying Ted has gotten reduced down to just his fatherhood, but the point is that for him, and for a lot of parents, your child is your number one priority even if there’s a thousand more things on the other side of the scale. Henry needs him, and Richmond doesn’t, so there’s no way to justify the distance that Ted himself admits he keeps partly because he’s afraid of when Henry will leave him. It is beautiful that he can be confident now and take up the space he deserves in Kansas, in his son’s life. I hope Michelle gets it together, and hopefully that scene with Dr. Jacob being an asshole is what that’s about. 

I will read a hundred fics about Ted staying with Richmond to soothe the pain, and I’ve been rotating it in my mind all day. I also don’t particularly ship anyone but Roy and Jamie, so Ted’s ending isn’t about that for me. 

However, what really bugged me is that it seems like the show is treating Ted moving away to Kansas as if he will literally never talk to or see these people again, as if he didn’t involve himself with Henry’s life as much as possible from an ocean away. Why would the inverse not hold true with his other family, with his platonic soulmate and best friend(s) and pseudo child?? I am definitely buying into the dream sequence theory at the end bc otherwise that is what really pushes this into sad territory for me...why would he not be a part of those memories, those futures to come, as a friend and family member?

It seemed like the show couldn’t decide, like Ted was checked out of all of these emotional goodbyes where other people tried to tell him over and over again that they loved him and wanted him, without showing deep sadness or telling them to visit or giving a rambling Ted story. I’m hoping that’s because it’s a huge life change, but not one that moves him to sadness, because he’ll continue being there for them, and they’ll continue being there for him. 

I would have loved some reassurance though...Ted promising to call every day at Biscuits with the Boss time...Rebecca giving him a permanent airfare ticket so he can be flying in and out all the time, bringing Henry with him! Ted going to Richmond games whenever he can, Ted remembering birthdays and going to the book release and taking up space when the Higgins get everyone together. Ted showing back up with Henry, Sleepless in Seattle style, being greeted by Rebecca and the rest of the team to spend weeks and months back in his other home. Ted getting FaceTimed for advice about relationships and promotions and girl talk and the Diamond Dogs group chat and how to make a Richmond charity or women’s team or kid’s outreach program (best way to make Rebecca a mom in my opinion). Ted being a consultant bc Rebecca refuses to take him off the payroll until they win the whole thing, Ted being loved by the fans and journos even from afar, even years later. Ted being happy to be in London as a tourist with his son, with all that wonder and joy and optimism now that he can resolve the ache of both of his lives being one life! And vice versa, Rebecca and Beard constantly visiting, dragging Keeley or Roy or Nate with them, the players spending off season learning about Kansas and playing with Henry, celebrating holidays together !! The fans who now own 49% of the club being ok with some of its budget being “wasted” just making sure Ted and the team continue to be with each other in some way. Ted visiting and being greeted by all the people he talks to during his morning routine as if he never left. 

I just hope that he’s not cutting himself out of his community. It is about you, Ted. It is. 

Hope he creates a beautiful, whole life in Kansas (ideally in my mind he coaches a women’s soccer team there and then eventually moves back to Richmond to coach their women’s soccer team like years in the future, once Henry is an adult), but also continues therapy enough to know that he isn’t Mary Poppins!! He’s a Dorothy that loved Oz, he’s a Maria that deserves the Von Trapps. He’s the main character, he’s not a magical mentor type. He has immensely wealthy people who love him, he can make it work both ways. Some of the money that could have been his salary can instead be his travel and phone bill money. 

It’s a dream sequence not only because it had some truly unrealistic stuff in it (Jane and Beard getting married at Stonehenge, Rebecca meeting Dutch man despite the magic of their story being its ephemeral nature, Jamie with his dad, Trent taking out so much of Ted from the book cover/title after he said he wouldn’t change anything) but because, for me, the only part of the finale that was truly disappointing was the regression of Ted thinking he exists only to make those moments possible for others, with no place for himself within them. 

In a finale that didn’t really feel like an ending (in a good way!), where so many storylines didn’t get resolved because the point is that the characters will keep growing and changing and evolving beyond what we see of them, because now they have the tools to do that, I can’t Believe that the one hard ending we got was Ted’s life with Richmond. So I won’t.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 22, 23

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit. Anyway, the first draft is finished (at around 88k words) and I'll be unlocking posts here on tumblr as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Day 21 here

***

28. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now."

121. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

***

Steph wasn't wrong. Tim really, really hated to apologize. Not because he saw it as losing face, or anything like that. It was because then he had to admit he fucked up, which might possibly mean he was a piece of shit. It just seemed like at some point he should be able to be the type of person who only caused harm because he meant to, and not because he hadn't slept in too long, like a cranky toddler.

But he was also not a chickenshit, so he suited up at home and left through one of the two concealed exits in the basement level as soon as he knew Damian would be on patrol. (And three nights in a row was a lot—he made a mental note to check the patrol rotation again when he returned home, because Tim wasn't the only one who needed sleep.)

He found Damian sitting on top of one of a huge stack of containers at the harbor, overlooking the ships being offloaded. Without trying to make the process soundless, Tim landed on the opposite end of the container. Damian's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't bother turning around.

Tim bit the inside of his lip, considering. He hadn't been able to work out the most appropriate method to begin this conversation despite all his brainstorming on the way over, so he'd finally decided he would just wing it. But now that the reality was staring him in the face—or determinedly giving him its back—he found himself nearly speechless.

Which was unacceptable. Right. When in doubt, dive in, and fix it later if it goes tits-up. (The part of his brain that offered constant commentary on his own thoughts gave the notion a hazy attribution to John Constantine, who was hardly a stellar example, but the principle was sound.)

Accordingly, he opted for the straightforward route. "I've come to apologize."

Damian gave a derisive tt but made no other acknowledgement.

"Would you mind taking your comm out for just a second? I'd prefer this not be accidentally shared with the entire crew."

He could tell Damian struggled with the concession, too angry to want to give an inch, but in the end discretion won out. He plucked the comm from his ear but kept his back turned. "Despite whatever Brown's inevitable gossipy meddling may have led you to believe, I do not require an apology."

Tim took a deep breath and paced a little closer, still keeping a prudent six feet between them. "I'm not here because of anything Steph said. I'm here because I fucked up and I need to make it right."

Damian snorted in contempt. "I assure you, there is no need. For me to accept such a thing would indicate you inflicted some sort of injury upon me. Which would imply you somehow developed skill and significance enough for that to occur. Which in turn is nonsense."

"Believe me, I'm well aware," Tim replied, and couldn't keep his tone from going dry as the desert. Damian's hands gave an inexplicable twitch at the words. "But be that as it may, we are still on the same team, and yesterday I acted like you were the enemy for no good reason. Yeah, you overstepped. But it was out of concern for my well-being and the safety of the family, so I should've been more understanding." He drummed one fist against his thigh, waiting for a response, but when none was forthcoming, braced himself and gave one more offering of vulnerability. "I was maybe still a little off-kilter from the dream. That one—ever since Insomnia fucked with my head, I've had the nightmare he gave me recur sometimes. Where it's not just Boomerang and my dad who die. It's most of us too. Except me. So I was definitely not at my best." A long pause, and still no sound. "I'm just gonna keep talking until you shut me up, but I'm pretty sure you're going to have to face me to do that, so . . ."

Damian's shoulders lowered the slightest bit. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now, and at least three of them don't involve turning around." He did give a quarter-turn, though. He wasn't looking at Tim, but his body was angled so Tim could at least see his profile. "They do mostly involve some sort of bloodshed, however."

"What a surprise. Not that I'm saying I don't deserve it." Tim dared to come within arm's reach. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and I said a lot of shit I didn't mean." He had turned off the white-outs on his domino, but Damian's were still firmly in place, so Tim couldn't tell which way he was looking. His ear was tilted toward Tim and he was clearly listening, and that would have to be enough to keep going. "You were right. I was being a baby."

Damian's chin dipped, and he angled his face away again. "Perhaps you were correct about some things as well. I regret not bringing up the issue with you instead of Father. And . . . other actions." Color crept up his cheeks.

Tim drew close enough to feel Damian's body heat radiating against what little skin he had exposed. A sudden sensory memory assailed him: leaning his face into the crook of Damian's neck, pressed together in a line from chest to dick. A wave of remembered arousal washed through him and left him aching with its recession. "If I made you regret we fucked, I'm ten times as sorry. You shouldn't have your memory of that ruined by me having been a jerk later."

Damian shrugged, a quick jerky motion entirely at odds with his usual grace. "I cannot argue with the final accusation you leveled at me."

Tim's mouth twisted as regret carved a hole in his chest. "Yes you can. You should. Don't agree with Temper-Tantruming Tim. He's an asshole and he only tells the worst part of the truth. I don't regret fucking you, Dami. I'm flattered you asked me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Damian leaned toward him at the confession, every muscle betraying how badly he wanted to hear it. Tim suppressed a smile. He should have known praise would be his way in. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

He reached out a cautious hand and grasped Damian's gauntleted fingers. Damian heaved a sigh of his own but didn't pull away. "I suppose you're aware that you could."

Tim couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. "Fuck you right here? Yeah, if I want Oracle to take video and give notes on my performance." He reached up to tap the tiny depression on his domino that cleared Damian's white-outs.

Damian met his gaze straightforwardly, but it clearly cost him some effort. "Then perhaps you should do it where she can't see."

Tim pretended to consider, but it was a done deal as far as his dick was concerned. "You think so?" At Damian's firm nod, he grinned. "Better head back to my place after we're done, then."

Movement down at the harbor caught his eye. A group of men were creeping toward a particular container, hiding behind others as they went. "Hey, there's something going on. Wanna take a closer look together?"

"Naturally. I have not been standing here for my health. Let's go."

But before they did, Damian brought Tim's knuckles to his mouth, and Tim could've sworn he felt the burn of the kiss even through the Kevlar that separated their skin.

days twenty-four, twenty-five, and twenty-six here

[springfallendeer]

Happy Birthday Juicy! (Wholesome)

A wholesome little story for @juicyyyboxxx to celebrate their birthday! (Would you believe we’re only a day apart?)

3300+ words

Edit: Hey guys. Do me a favor and don’t like/reblog this if you find it. I don’t want to delete it, and I’m not sure if there’s a way to private/mute a post this old. But the person I wrote it for isn’t in my life anymore, for reasons I don’t really know and therefor can’t really understand. It hurts being reminded of someone who decided to cut contact out of the blue.

Thanks.

Loneliness has a way of sneaking up on people.

It lays in wait. Watching for the worst possible time to make itself known.

Regardless of the shape it arrives in, it is always recognized. Always known.

It is the echo of an empty home. The heavy sigh of a tired mind. The ambient chatter of an unwatched television screen.

Loneliness made the quietest things seem so unbearably loud. It made the emptiest rooms feel the most suffocating. It made everything into something unpleasant.

So unpleasant that it practically triggered some primal form of fight or flight. Whether you chose to fight the loneliness or flee from it was irrelevant. The best way to do so was to get out of the house. So get out of the house you do.

You haphazardly throw on a coat and go outside. There isn’t really a plan beyond that.

The loneliness is eating away at you and all you really want to do is clear your head. You can’t do that if you stay at home.

Home is where all the painful memories are.

Home is where all the reminders of better days lay waiting.

So you just pick a direction and start walking. And you keep walking. You use the idle sounds of the world around you as a distraction from your own muddled thoughts. From the roaring of passing cars to the quiet chirping of birds. Anything that could be of a distraction, became a distraction.

Though nothing made for a good enough distraction to keep you out of your own head.

Sorrow has a way of keeping itself at the front of your thoughts. To the point that you fail to even realize when you’ve wandered off course.

The concrete path you walk suddenly transitioned into grass and soil. Buildings gave way to trees and bushes. The ambiance of the city became the chorus of the wilderness.

You notice your change of surroundings only when you find your hair getting tangled in the low hanging branches of a tree. At which point you turn about in your confusion.

Everything that you might have recognized is gone. Gone is the city. Gone are the roads. Gone are the paths you might have been able to follow. Its as if you’ve unwittingly passed through some sort of gateway.

A gateway which decided to dump you in the middle of the woods. You don’t even have the chance to try and reorient yourself before the rustling of foliage draws your attention.

You turn to look at the sound, rightly startled. Both from the sound itself and from the confusion of your situation.

What emerges from the surrounding woodland is an entity that doesn’t rightly belong in such a wild area. A hulking metal beast peeks out from behind a tree. Glowing violet eyes settle upon your frame.

You want to say that you recognize this entity. It resembles one you already know. One you already miss. Its so similar and yet so different.

Eclipse, but not Eclipse.

Pointed metal arrows form a crest around its head. A head which rotates idly from side to side as the entity studies you. You hear the clicking of its crest as each individual ray retracts. One after another. In then out. Flowing as if replicating a buffering symbol.

A bright purple light flickers on when its face stops rocking.

The rays upon its head form a halo of light around its dark, almost featureless face. Wide robotic orbs lock with yours. Its lower face parts into a smile.

A wide, sharp smile.

The jaws of a bear trap effectively grin at you. Wide and unnerving.

All at once you feel the dread. Alone in the wilderness with a giant animatronic peering down at you. Fight or flight kicks in again when this entity fully emerges from behind the tree. It reaches for you with two of its four large, clawed, robotic hands.

You run.

You run because that thing that’s found you isn’t the Eclipse you know. It isn’t your friend.

It is a warped, twisted depiction of the animatronic that you miss. Just a nightmare created by your lonely thoughts. An illusion made to validate the fiction created by your own mind.

But illusions aren’t real. They lack a solid form. An illusion cannot catch you. It cannot grab you or pull you back.

Yet somehow this one did.

Those massive, metal hands wrap around your frame and yank you into the air before you can make any reasonable distance. This massive metal beast catches you so easily that its as if you never ran at all.

Tears well in your eyes as your body is jostled about. You lock eyes with the beast as it turns you towards it. The smile it once wore is gone. Replace by an obvious frown.

Against your will your body is lifted higher into the air, held tightly by the animatronic limbs.

You clench your eyes shut, anticipating the worst. You feel your body being moved, and you tense in response. You tense in fear of the pain that is clearly to come.

But the pain never comes.

What comes is the alarmingly gentle embrace of the animatronic body. For as large and unyielding as the beast is, it handles you with utmost care. You’re pulled to its chest. All four arms carefully tangle to wrap around you. Your head is positioned to rest against its chest.

Then you’re simply held. Held and gently swayed. Swayed and rocked like a child.

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden change in attitude. For as ominous as the entity is, it handles you so gently.

Cautiously you peek up. That same, unnerving face is still there. The same dangerous looking smile has returned to its features.

But now you can see the gentleness in its eyes. Because now you were taking the time to actually see that gentleness.

Whatever this thing was, it was very, very real. For as terrifying as it looked, it wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed.

A clawed hand moved to the back of your head. You tentatively relax into the touch as the entity begins to lightly massage your scalp.

This alternate Eclipse doesn’t say a word as they proceed to carry you off. You don’t say a word either.

What can you even say?

You’re lost. Physically and mentally.

Lost and being whisked away by an absolutely massive animatronic that you didn’t know, but recognized purely due to an association with a close friend. You were carried through the woodland. What must have been a long walk for you was made so much shorter thanks to the wide gait of the animatronic.

What he carries you too is something rather surprising.

What lays before you is a small lake. There’s swans swimming about in the water. Near the pond is a picnic.

A picnic with two additional animatronics, accompanied by an unfamiliar woman.

If the animatronic which carried you was some alternate version of Eclipse, then it was easy to tell who the two new animatronics were. An alternate Sun and an alternate Moon.

The woman, Sun, and Moon took notice of you right away.

Eclipse carried you closer. He set you down upon the blanket that had been laid upon the grass. You’re immediately offered a cup of tea and a sandwich.

“Lost?” The woman inquired, casting you a knowing look.

For a moment, you can’t help but just stare at her. All of this was so strange.

Somehow you had managed to walk miles in the span of a few minutes. Somehow, you had stumbled across this futuristic Eclipse. A futuristic Eclipse that both terrified and comforted you.

Then he brought you here. To this mundane little picnic out in the middle of the woods.

And the people and machines that were already here didn’t bat an eye. They approached the situation as casually as a cat might approach an unguarded lap.

You stare at the offered food and drink for a moment.

“Yeah...” You utter quietly. Lost describes your situation pretty well. Physically and emotionally, you were lost.

Eclipse proceeded to take a seat in the grass behind you.

“Found.” Eclipse states in turn. You turn to look up at him. He’s still got that dangerous looking grin. That dangerous grin made comfortable by the kindness in his eyes.

“We have a knack for finding lost folk around here.” The woman comments, gently pushing the plate of food closer to you. “Not usually folk like you, though.” She adds. You look to her, confused. She just sort of motions towards the animatronics with her eyes.

It takes a moment for you to register what she means. She means that animatronics keep finding their way to her. Maybe even the same ones that now sit around you eating sandwiches and cake.

Cake.

Your eyes start to water as you observe the scene. The broken wording on the already cut cake made it clear what this was.

You had just unwittingly stumbled upon a birthday party. A birthday party that reminded you of what you didn’t get to have.

Try as you might, you can’t keep the first tear from falling.

Sun reaches to wipe away the tear before you can do it yourself. You peer up at him, and he smiles. He smiles a soft, reassuring smile.

“So. What brings you here?” The woman asks, now ushering a piece of cake in your direction.

More tears spill from your eyes as you stare at the cake. In trying to escape your negative feelings, you had found yourself in a place where you had no choice but to confront them.

And it hurt. It hurt to be confronted by the things that tortured you so.

Still, you don’t feel a hint of malice from the woman or from these animatronics. There’s an aura of understanding around the space. One that both comforts and terrifies you.

You take a shaky breath.

“I-I needed to clear my head.” You admit, albeit reluctantly and with a quivering voice.

The woman lifts the cup of tea to put it in your hand.

Somehow, the glass is still warm. You wrap your fingers around it. It feels so pleasant.

“Rough day?” She asks in turn. You nod.

Yes. Yes it was a very rough day for you, all things considered.

“Talk about it. You’ll feel better.” She requests, her tone soft and knowing. She speaks as if she’s been in your shoes before. Its reassuring, to say the least.

“I-its my birthday, today...” You admit, bringing your free hand up to your face to wipe your eyes “I-I have to celebrate it alone, this year.”.

The woman offers a soft hum in response as she takes a sip of your tea.

“Not as alone as you’d think.” She muses, a slight note of playfulness entering her tone. “We might not be the company you wanted. But we’ve got decent food and cake and all the privacy in the world. You could scream or cry if you wanted. The swans won’t give a shit either way.” She states, cracking something of a joke at the end as she reaches into a bowl.

The bowl is full of peas and grains.

She casually tosses a handful of feed to the swans, who swim to the edge of the pond to enjoy their snack.

You purse your lips slightly, trying to hold back the tears.

She isn’t wrong. Somehow you’ve gotten far enough away from town that no one would notice if you screamed. No one here would be bothered if you cried.

The woman sat beside you seemed like she would let you throw your head in her lap and let you bawl your eyes out. The unspoken offer proved quite tempting, but you held back.

She was a stranger to you, after all. A stranger that gave off ‘wise old sage of the woods’ vibes. It was as if you had wandered into a modern age fairytale.

She laughs softly to herself just as you make this mental comparison.

“Look, sweetie. Life is hard. The world is a cold, bitter, unfeeling place that would have no problem sending you adrift. Most days, the only comfort you get out of it is the people around you.” She speaks, looking back to you.

You sit, stunned, as she proceeds to take up the role of the ‘wise old sage of the woods’. Maybe you had walked into the world of fairies and there were just the forms they chose to take for the sake of comforting you.

“Its hard, those days that you have to spend alone. Those days where the only friends you have are your own thoughts. And your thoughts often make the worst friends. Especially when they’re left alone with you.” She further elaborates, coaxing you into taking a drink of your tea.

You do so. Its warm and sweet and leaves a minty taste on the back of your tongue. The calming effects are near immediate.

Still, the tears make their way down your face.

She says and does nothing to make you self conscious of your tears.

“What’s important is that you abuse those negative thoughts right back... But that’s easier said than done. Intrusive thoughts know all your insecurities. They know how to take the things you love and twist them into weapons used to hurt you... And sadly they’re gonna hurt you. Your emotions don’t care about logic and reason. You can know for certain that the people you want to see desperately want to see you as well. But those evil little thoughts still find a way to make you second guess that. And it sucks. Its painful and its stupid and it leaves you feeling worse, because you know those thoughts are wrong and you’ve still gone and gotten upset over it.” She continues to speak, describing the ways and methods of your internal demons to a T as she encourages you to eat and drink.

The sandwich is nothing special and the cake is just a cake. But for some reason you start to feel better the more you eat and the more she speaks. Because she describes your plight so well that its as if she’s just another part of you.

At this point you think she might be some other version of you. Though there’s so little for you to have in common.

She pauses for a moment to sigh.

“Its okay that it hurts. Painful as it gets, its just another part of being alive. You miss the people that you want to see. You think back on better days and wish that they could come back. And you worry that they won’t come back... But they will. Maybe not right away. But generally speaking, things will get better. As long as you put in the effort. Loneliness is only as strong as you allow it to be. You can be in the room full of people and still feel isolated. The silence can be deafening. And the tears sting so much more when there’s no one there to help you dry your cheeks. But the way to fight loneliness is to find companionship. It can be something as simple as a pet or something as great as a spouse... And it takes time. Loneliness is a beast that tends to linger. It waits until the room is empty. It waits until the space is silent. And it comes creeping back. You can fight it. But you can never beat it. Because its just as much as part of you as the joy you feel, and it can be just as fleeting as the air you breathe... To be lonely is to be alive. No matter how much you hate it, its important when its there. So long as you’re willing to fight it, you’ll eventually find the way to overcome it.” She speaks, going off on a bit of tangent as she lets her thoughts take the form of spoken word. She speaks harsh truths and words of comfort in random patterns. All the while her words encourage the tears to continue flowing down your cheeks.

Still she reaches to dry your tears, her eyes soft and knowing.

“I-Its so hard...” You eventually manage to choke out, your voice cracking from the quiet sob that wracks your body.

She responds in turn by taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I know its hard. Staving off loneliness is a constant, unending fight... A fight that can leave you exhausted. Sometimes you need a break. Sometimes you need to rest. And that’s alright. Its okay to be tired. Its okay to be sad. These emotions are a part of you and for as ugly as they feel, they’re part of what makes life beautiful. Just like the sun or the rain. Sometimes they’re pleasant, and sometimes they ruin your day. You need them, all the same. For as tragic as they can be and for as exhausted as they can leave you, they’re important.” She hums, idly scooching closer to you.

You in turn let your face fall against her shoulder. She doesn’t move or shy away, even as you stain her shirt with your tears.

“The hardest part of loneliness is not knowing how to escape it. It makes you feel pathetic. It makes you feel weak. It makes it hard for you to ask for help. Because it makes you feel stupid for getting so worked up over something so trivial... But its okay to ask for help. Something as simple as sharing small talk with a stranger can give you that feeling of relief when the people you need the most can’t be there. There’s nothing wrong with needing company.” She murmurs, rubbing your back as you continue to cry into her shoulder.

“Does it get easier?” You can’t help but ask between the hiccups. She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Eventually. But you have to put in the effort.” She responds. “Not everyone will want your company. Not everyone will share your interests. You have to be willing to branch out and meet people on common ground... And it takes time. But so long as you keep at it, you’ll be bound to find the company you crave. And it won’t keep the loneliness away forever.” She states.

You nod against her shoulder.

“Is any of this real?” You murmur. The whole situation feels overly convenient. For as real as the moment feels, you logically know it can’t be.

A walk in the city doesn’t just dump you in the middle of the woods. You don’t just stumble upon strangers that conveniently have all the words needed to describe your suffering.

You listen as she laughs quietly to herself.

“I ask myself that a lot.” She replies, giving your shoulder another squeeze. “Maybe you’re a dream. Maybe I’m the dream. Maybe all of this is real and we just can’t explain it. Life is full of things we can’t quite understand. Either way, we’ll have these memories. We might forget each other’s faces. We might forget this talk. But we’ll remember how we felt. And that makes this real enough for me.” She states.

You pry yourself away from her shoulders, your tears having finally stopped.

Again, she coaxes you into drinking your tea. Somehow the glass seems just as full as when you started. The cup feels just as warm, despite the time that has passed.

“Happy birthday...” You murmur, not quite sure what else to say. She offers a soft laugh in turn.

“My birthday is tomorrow.” She states, before taking a sip of her tea. Your eyes widen as she smiles at you. “Happy birthday~” She replies in turn, her smile soft and knowing.

How peculiar it all was to have found her here. How peculiar it was to find this total stranger who knew so much yet explained so little.

You smile to yourself, feeling the moment fade away.

A dream, but not a dream.

You blink and suddenly you’re home. As alone and isolated as before. Yet the emptiness feels less suffocating, thanks to the memories.

The memories of her words. Of her understanding.

The taste of mint tea still lingering on your tongue.

[ohhgingersnaps]

THIS CAME TO ME IN A DREAM (and by that i mean i was listening to set it off's partners in crime) supervillain au for wdstf. would it fit their characters, maybe not. would it be fun and hot and cool. Maybe.

Okay, so this is a phenomenal idea, thank you for providing me with such a fun sandbox to play in!! My brain immediately latched onto this and decided that I had to find a way to make it line up with canon. I’ve been rotating this in my mind for like six hours now

You’re right that Ava and Sebastian wouldn’t choose to become supervillains in the traditional sense, because they both try very hard to be good people, but also consider: The categorization of supers into “hero” or “villain” in WDSTF!verse is socially-constructed, and is less about whether they’re actually good people and more about like… Whether their vigilante activity is seen as “acceptable” by the general populace of Zuzu City. A lot of things factor into that (e.g. how much collateral damage is caused, who materially benefits, whether it’s pro bono, and— frankly— how the super in question chooses to present themselves to the public).

You’re also right that a villain AU would be fun and hot and cool :)

So! In light of the above, consider the following as a possible character-compliant WDSTF Supervillain AU Origin Story (below the cut because this became fic-length (1.5k)) (this is maybe not the fun exciting supervillain shenanigans you originally intended but it sets up the foundation for the shenanigans at least?) (cw: angst, fire, very brief mention of dissociation/panic attack):

Ava/Phoenix

After the JojaCo fire, Phoenix disappears, Ava quits her job, and she’s got two weeks where she’s lying around her house, fruitlessly applying for jobs, with no way to contact the only remaining member of her superhero support system (Memento). She’s burned out! She’s frustrated! She feels like a failure, she feels like she’s lost control, and she wants proof that she can do one thing right.

And she goes, Okay, you know what? I deserve to try doing a little hero work again, as a treat.

She patches up her suit and goes out on a solo patrol, and she sees a civilian, and she smiles and waves, in spite of how exhausted she feels, because that’s what she does. She’s used to the civilians waving back, but this one just goes tense and averts their eyes, hurring away.

They’re scared of me, she realizes, her heart sinking.

(She’s not exactly right. The public isn’t quite scared of her— not yet, at least— because she has a good reputation. What they are is wary. Fire is powerful and intimidating, and the JojaCo incident happened only a few weeks ago, and JojaCo’s smear campaign against her is relentless, mostly because they don’t want folks to start asking why they’re allowed to keep so much flammable material in their dumpsters. Memento’s trying his best to defend her, but there’s only so much he can do.)

Later that night, she finally does help stop some minor crime— she stops some guy from robbing a local corner store, or something— but when she calls the authorities in to collect the perp, they totally ignore the robber and try to arrest her, instead. She escapes, but she realizes that no matter what she does, she’s not going to be seen as a hero again.

She’s so burned out and exhausted, and the whole thing just strikes her as incredibly unfair. And she needs control, right now. She needs to prove she can do something right.

And, well, she does need a way to pay the rent.

You want me to be a villain so bad? she decides, hands prickling with heat as she looks over the city. Fine. Guess I’m a villain.

(Because if she’s choosing to be the villain, that means she has control over the situation. That means it was her choice, and that’s a lot easier for her to swallow than the idea that her actions don’t directly correlate to how she’s perceived or treated.)

She does try dabbling in work as a villain-aligned merc for a bit, but she still sticks to her usual set of principles— protecting civilians is a big one— so she ends up mostly working alone. She tries to operate in a way that results in minimal harm, only stealing from large corporations or rich folks who can afford it…

Working as a villain can be a lot more dangerous than working as a hero, though, and perception is everything, right? So she absolutely plays into the villain role and lets people think she’s a lot scarier and more ruthless than she is. (Think Megamind: Very into pretending he’s going to kill Metro Man and take over the city, but never has any intention of actually doing it.) She plays into the villain persona a little too well, and that’s how she accidentally ends up becoming a supervillain.

Sebastian/Memento

So that’s how Phoenix becomes a villain, but what about Memento? For this to work, we’ve gotta remember three things:

1) In addition to heroes and villains, there are also mercs, who are basically contract-work supers. They’re not categorized as heroes, since they’re paid directly for their work, but a lot of them are considered “hero-aligned” or “villain-aligned” because of the nature of the jobs they choose to accept or reject.

2) Memento started as a hero-aligned merc. This isn’t addressed in the main fic, but before the JojaCo fire, he does merc work as a side gig, in addition to his above-the-board freelancing jobs. (The general populace mostly ends up categorizing him as a hero because he does so much pro bono work with Phoenix lol)

3) Memento loves Phoenix.

So when he hears that Phoenix has finally reappeared, nearly a month after her disappearance, he immediately throws all of his effort into finding her and reestablishing contact. He doesn’t care if she’s a villain now— even if she is, she must have a good reason— but he doesn’t even really believe the rumors at first, because the Phoenix he knows isn’t capable of half of the things people say she’s done.

(He’s right not to believe most of the rumors. She’s really playing up the whole villain thing.)

Still, he wonders: If she’s back, why hasn’t she contacted me?

When he finally does catch up with her a few weeks later— in the middle of stealing something from a museum, of all places, and why is she stealing something from a museum?— he tries to talk to her over the PA system, like he did when they first met. He asks what she’s doing.

Phoenix immediately freezes, as soon as she recognizes his voice, then gets a distant look on her face that he hasn’t seen since right after the fire at the club. She’s panicking, her breathing going funny, and that’s when he realizes that at least some of the rumors were true. She really has become a villain.

She’s a villain, and she’s alone, and she’s terrified.

“You should leave,” she snaps, but her voice is shaky. She says should in a way that means, this is what ought to happen, instead of, this is what I want, and is that why she never reached out? Because she knew he’d disapprove? Because she thought he’d abandon her instead of trying to understand?

“I’m not going to do that.”

She throws her hands out. They catch fire. “Don’t you get it? I’m a villain; I’m a bad guy; I’m literally in the middle of robbing the Zuzu City Institute of Art and Antiquities!”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says, even though he doesn’t get why she’s doing it. “Still not leaving.”

She extinguishes her hands. For a minute, it looks like she might cry.

And then he asks: “Do you want help with the security system?”

They meet up, afterwards, at their geocache spot, under the tree on Amber Hill. What good is her civilian identity to her, now that she’s a villain, after all? They spend a very long time just standing there hugging each other, because spirits, they’ve missed each other so much. She cries into his shoulder. He cries into her shoulder a little bit, too.

She tells him everything, and she tries to explain things in a way that he’ll understand. In a way that he’ll accept. He still doesn’t understand, but he does accept it, because he loves her. She’s so convinced she’s a bad person for doing this, but he doesn’t believe that for a second. She’s a good person, so this has to be the right thing to do. Right? (Right?)

He promises to help her with her villain work, despite her protests, because he knows she won’t let anyone get hurt… Aside from maybe herself, that is, which means someone has to look after her. Someone has to support her, protect her, and keep her from self-destructing again. And if aligning himself with a supervillain is the only way for him keep Phoenix safe, it’s not even a question. He’ll do it in a heartbeat.

He holds Phoenix tightly in his arms, stroking her hair, and resolves to pick up some merc work on the side that specifically targets JojaCo. He kind of feels like they deserve it.

Besides, he’s a villain now, isn’t he? He’s allowed to be petty.

(That’s the excuse he’ll use if she ever asks him. The truth is, he doesn’t think he’s being petty at all— JojaCo ruined her life, and he wishes she'd burned it to the ground.)

[catierambles]

Shades Ch.6

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Faith Culver (Vampire!OFC)

WC: 1054

Warnings: None

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme

After a quick stop at his apartment to shower and change clothes, he was back at Faith’s, though the Captain’s “advice” still rang heavy in his mind.

“I should probably start keeping food in the house if you’re going to be making a habit of being here.” Faith said from her computer and he made a sound from where he was lounging on her bed, scrolling through his phone.

“How do you…you know, eat?” He asked and there was a pause.

“You asking if I munch down on random people?” She asked, “No. I get pig's and cow's blood from slaughterhouses and farms.”

“And they don’t ask questions?”

“I tell them I use it for homemade black pudding at the bar.” She said and he thought back to the modest menu.

“I have seen it on the menu.” He said with a shrug, “Any good?”

“It’s my ma’s recipe.” She said, “Haven’t had it in a couple of centuries, but I remember it being quite good, especially on cold mornings. Bit minerally. She used sheep’s blood, but I couldn’t find a reliable supplier so I went with pig and cow.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime.”

“We usually had it along with eggs, toast, beans, mushrooms, and potatoes at breakfast.” She said, “Thought about opening the bar earlier to have a breakfast service, but decided against it.”

“Doesn’t have to be just the morning, you know.” He said, “Lot of people get off work late and have breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll talk it over with the cooks once the bar opens again and see what we can do.” Faith said, “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m guessing what you don’t use for that, you save for your own personal consumption?”

“It was initially just a cover story, but I had to buy more than I could possibly go through personally without it spoiling so I decided to make the lie a truth.” She said, “They have an overabundance of the stuff just from daily operations, so everyone takes a win. They have another source of revenue, I get a food source, and the bar gets something from my childhood.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a good English breakfast.”

“I’ll have to make it for you sometime. I can’t eat it, but I do still like the smell of food.” Faith said, “Feel like being a test subject for the bar?”

“I’ll take one for the team.” He said and smiled when she snorted in amusement. “Does anyone at the bar know what you are?”

“Nope, just you.” She said.

“It’s been open for a while, though, hasn’t it? Almost a local institution. How do you explain it?”

“Strong genetics.” Faith said simply, “About every twenty years or so, the “previous owner” retires and leaves it to their “daughter”. I’ve only had to do it a couple of times, but no one’s asked any questions yet.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of questions, so feel free to tell me to knock it off, but why a bar?” He asked and there was a pause, something he noticed she did when he asked about her past or her…condition.

“Sean and I ran a tavern and inn in Dublin. He handled the customers, and I ran the day-to-day. Bit of a reverse from the norm back in the day, but he was better with people than I was back then and I’ve always been good at business.”

“Well based on how many people I’ve seen there on the regular, you’re more than just “good” at it.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Walter.” She said and he snorted, “Truth be told, I’ve thought about moving locations.”

“Yeah?”

“Or expanding. Maybe open a bed and breakfast somewhere. Something small, nothing fancy.”

“I think you would do quite well.” Walter said.

“Yeah?” She asked and he nodded with a sound. “I’ll put some feelers out, maybe get in touch with a real estate agent. See what’s out there as far as properties go.” There was a moment’s pause. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Walter said and they fell into a companionable silence, punctuated at times by her typing on the keyboard or using the mouse. He looked over as she moved, seeing her rotate her arm at the shoulder and stretching her neck. “You okay?”

“Pulled a muscle in my back and it’s bugging me.” She said and he thought for a moment before setting his phone to the side and sliding off the bed, going up behind her at the computer chair.

“Where?”

“You don’t have to--”

“Where?” He asked again more forcefully.

“High and to the right, by the shoulder blade.” She said and leaned forward as he pushed her shoulder lightly, letting him search for the knot with the pad of his thumb. “Yep, right there, you got it.” He worked his knuckle into the bunched muscle, soothing it with pressure with his thumb before digging into it again, trying to unravel it. “You’re going to put me to sleep.”

“I thought you didn’t sleep.” He asked with a small smile.

“I don’t have to sleep, doesn’t mean I can’t sleep.” She said and made a small noise of surprise as he suddenly picked her up out of the chair with his hands under her arms. “Oh, Jesus. What are you doing?”

“Time for a nap.”

“Walter…”

“Don’t argue with me.” He said and steered her towards the bed. “Get comfortable.”

“You don’t have to--”

“You keep saying that, and yet here I am, now get on the bed and get comfortable.”

“Fine.” Faith said, climbing onto the bed, “Bossy. Respect your damn elders, would you?”

“Act your age and maybe I would.” Walter said and she snorted.

“You damn whipper-snappers,” She started mimicking an old lady's voice, “No respect these days.” She gave a short laugh as he climbed onto the bed behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “Yeah? Cuddles? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Quiet.” Walter said, “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.” She said, still giggling. “Later we need to have a conversation.”

“About?” Walter asked, closing his eyes.

“Why you keep sticking around even after you found out what I am and what I’ve done.” She said and he sighed.

“You’re right.” Walter said, “Later.”

[biffjerky]

going to start using my blog as a review place bcus idk cramming everything in tweets isn’t incohesive, and just painful.

but i got to read the first volume of case files of jeweler richard today, and it’s been a few hours but i keep rotating so many things about it in my mind. it’s a novel i have been looking forward to ever since i’ve heard about the anime a long while ago... didn’t watch the anime beyond one episode, BUT patience paid off because it got liscensed at some point :D

now, i don’t know how long this post will be, but i’ll put it under a read more lol.

i’m not the smartest with words, my points might be strange, or not make sense at all. but maybe writing these reviews will help me improve lol.

somewhat not spoiler free? idk. read at own risk anyway.

onto some stuff i like:

seigi and richard as characters as a whole, the themes brought up in each chapter, the attention to detail, how seigi learns things and it comes back in small ways in the other chapters, how there’s no restraint to mention LGBT and incorporate it in the story, just the overall structure of chapters & narration and... just how cute richard can be at times lol.

i think one aspect i really, really like and really surprised me is how it deals with queerness, for the lack of a better word. it’s not a topic i find often in jpn media that isn’t explicitly promoted as ”lgbt”. and i like that. I really believe that to normalize lgbt people is to let them be part of the world, without aways singling them out. neatly sorted in categories and genres, where you go in thinking “oh well yeah duh theres gonna be gay people in it”. and the fact that it’s possibly not just confined to but oh there Are lgbt characters, just characters on the side & nothing else, but that also how the MC seigi is involved with it.

it’s not spelled out, it’s not made painfully clear, and i think thats what makes it a very interesting read. seigi is learning about himself, what kind of people there are and the world as a whole. and queerness happens to be an aspect of it. it’s not the only focus, but it’s present.

the alphabet soup people aside (i say this lovingly), i really enjoyed the “case by case” chapters. the different people that show up and how seigi goes out of his way to help them. how it all ties in back to gemstones and what it can mean to different people. chapter 4 really left an impression on me, and its definitely my favourite so far.

i feel like there’s a lot of care, to detail, to people, to emotions... it’s what keeps me hooked. i love slice of life stories, i love seeing the most mundane things be inspected in detail, seeing characters just go on with their life and grow from it. so this novel really scratches all the itches in my brain. makes me wonder if there’s more stuff like this out there to read... well, probably is lol. though can’t say i really found it throughout the years with all my attempts of reading light novels. then again most stuff that gets translated is “My Friends Little Sister Secretly Loves Me But She’s a Tsundere!” or “Senpai Sees Bunny Girls When He Sleeps In Class”, whatever.

looking forward to the rest though, i’m buying them physically because books on my shelves are Nice. also the cover art is pretty and coincidentally by the artist who does the art for my fave idol franchise ever so...

[missfinefeather]

Oh, oh that’s creepy, that’s a creepy way to end it...

I just got chills

My gog, that episode was one hell of a ghost story. Perfect for a Halloween special!

Harm was such an annoying edgelord, but you were supposed to hate him so it was okay.

The story behind Secret was pretty damn dark for a show for 10 and up. Then again, we had Kent dying on screen so I guess this show doesn’t pull its punches.

Wait, she’s a ghost but she can pull tape off of Zatanna’s face... Eh, whatever.

The plotline with Connor, Meghan, and Wally florting a Halloween prank was an entertaining distraction from Harm’s antics. Meanwhile Robin and Kaldur talking about the possible mole was interesting, but didn’t stay around for long.

Yeah, entertaining episode! Good ghost story, good for Halloween! (it’s not Halloween today, but it would have been perfect it was!)

I’ll be starting my therapy sessions up again, so I’ll probably take tomorrow off. I might do a short anime gambling, but I wouldn’t want to start another Young Justice when I’m going to get my brain picked apart. I dunno, expect Tuesdays to be complicated going forward.

After I finish the next episode of YJ, I’ll be officially releasing the next community poll, one that will run until I finish season 1 YJ next rotation (I’m currently only obligated to do season 1,) so you’ll have PLENTY of time to get your votes in. The community poll will be deciding what will be replacing She-Ra, but I’ll be doing the roulette pick to decide what replaces Young Justice on the same day the poll ends.

BTW, if you all pick YJ for the Community Poll, I’ll cover the rest of it! Keep that in mind for later!

But that doesn’t matter for now, that’s after the next episode.

For now, I thank you all for joining me today! I love you! <333

(Click here for Episode 19!)

[timeless-toaster]

Introduction & Rules

Hello. This is going to be an out of character post, as this is my first time writing here.

Some info on me: I don’t like to apologize for my English, but if I write funky, then just remember that this is not my first language. I’ll try my best tho. So with that out of the way, let’s talk about Sims. I only started playing the Sims 2 a few years ago, but I basically fell in love with it. I was always interested in having a historical neighbourhood, but the amount of CC that would have been needed really discouraged me. This challenge made that big obstacle much smaller, since you only need a handful of CC for the first stage, and it slowly progresses into more. I think it also adds a goal to reach that keeps up your motivation to play.

As probably a lot others in the Sims 2 community, I’ve learnt about the Test of Time challenge from PleasantSims, and I’m using her rule modifications with some modifications I’ve made for myself. You can find the original rules she modified here. My changes will mostly only be based on the first stage, since that’s how far I’m in my playthrough.

My rule modifications: 

Every family has a color, and must wear clothing approriate for their assigned one. This is just a fun thing I thought of, and it makes it very easy to differentiate between the families. I usually give the heirs a fancier variant of the clothing but I don’t always pay attention to do that.

Sinks and showers must be placed outside. In my mind they’re collecting rainwater to use these, but I don’t actually wait for rain to allow them to shower. I already only use hygiene increasing “furniture”, so I don’t go insane from everyone complaining about being smelly.

There can be mathriarchal families. I currently have one family like this, and I just thought it would be interesting and fun. This family follows the rule of heirs too, but it’s all about the oldest female child. More on this later if I ever start writing the story, since this does cause a lot of complications (that I find fun).

I can reset the temperature of sims every night. Okay, so this might sound like it defeats the purpose of the all time summer, but I struggled sooo much with sims overheating and not being able to do anything all day, every day, that I just had to make this rule in desperation. I think it’s also logical, that the temperature would go down at night. And I have to add, that I still constantly have near death experiences cause of some sims deciding to go hunting or showering when they’re already almost overheated.

Their living condition improves with time. This is a vague rule, that is not set in stone. What I mean by this is that I start a family with very basic stuff, like only one little tent bed, a bush for a toilet and a tree trunk as a sofa, but as they start to not struggle with food, I imagine they could possibly have the strenght and time to build a basic house for themselves with wooden materials, and even make basic furniture. If their family is big enough, and they have multiple teens and adults in the family, I think they should be able to build their houses with stone, since they have a community to help them carry heavier materials.

I have 3 day rotations. This is purely a personal preference, I’ve always played 3 day rotations, and I’ve found it the perfect balance for myself.

That’s all for now. I’m very lazy with rules and keeping everything perfectly organised in the Sims, so I’m not sweating blood to always be on point with every little detail. I do definitely keep up with the most important ones. But after all it’s all about having fun.