#and have said similar things before

[theloveinc]

Barbarian!Bakugo is a little bit… obsessed with lactation.

No, it’s not a new concept to him—he’s seen mothers feeding their children before, in fact, hardly ever put a thought to it.

But now that it’s you, now that it’s his child… it’s interesting to him. Beyond interesting, really. That someone he loves and desires so carnally can provide an almost irreplaceable service, one he is incapable of replicating despite how much he wants to provide for the both of you.

And he’d want to be present for most feedings anyway, both to bond and help ease the parenting load off your shoulders… but the whole time, he can’t take his eyes off your chest, where the little one is latched so safely and happy, suckling away as he stares in a protective haze, in awe. Blinking when baby blinks, wincing when you wince, his hands balling into fists when you sigh and the soft fat of your bosom jiggles.

He’s shy, though. Shy to admit his fascination despite how he asks to touch you one night, after the babe has been fed, swaddled and put to rest, and then rubs his fingers so gently against your nipple it starts to leak.

Bakugo looks at you under thick lashes, no blush because he’s seen you naked endless times, was there for the birth, but hesitant, almost… to do more than feel your raw areola underneath the rough pads of his fingertips. Even if, no sooner, does he put a thumb into his mouth to taste the few, silken drops of milk that escaped onto his skin.

Baby always eats first, of course, until plump and sleepy… but after that first touch, barbarian!Bakugo is no longer above licking up what’s left for him until your tits are relaxed and soft, then massaging you til there’s milk in abundance once more.

[revenantghost]

Honestly, the fact that Wolfwood tries to use the same silliness and over-the-top goofiness that Vash himself uses to cope and cheer other folks around him with (albeit in a... very older brother who's been through some shit Wolfwood kinda way) to try and drag him out of his funk is both so sweet and heartbreaking

[transingthoseformers]

Idea but when semi reformed!sg earthspark Optimus wants something he has a habit of sitting/standing semi close to someone and just looming instead of asking like a well adjusted adult.

"Optimus, is there something you want?"

"No"

"Are you sure?"

"..."

"Do you want a sip of my sweetened energon?"

"...yes."

[eskildit]

do you think there are days that pyrrha forgets what she looked like before? she's been in g1deon's body for thousands of years do you think there are moments where she struggles to recall her own face?

[briviting]

antwerp real

[manglam-marfach]

dyke!Chilaios has me understanding breeding kink all of a sudden

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

idk if this is still the case but when i was really In It in animorphs feelings a couple years ago because i was unemployed for the first time in my adult life / temporarily living alone in the last house my family lived in / freaking out about climate change / generally Going Through It, and like poking around the animorphs scene on tumblr, there was this notion commonly expressed that rachel and tobias were "toxic," the major piece of evidence for which was the scene in 33 where she "tries to trap him in human morph." which like first of all i'm SOOOOOO SORRRY that the fucking fifteen-year-olds secretly fighting a guerrilla war in which their greatest threat is the mind-controlling slugs they're trying to save humanity from but their second greatest threat is the diminishing hourglass of their collective sanity as they all have to work steadily harder and more desperately to not just completely lose their shit entirely from all the violence and literal 24/7 constant threat and murder that is happening, like i'm sorry two literal children who have managed in this ongoing horror show to forge a bond of loyalty and affection and care and attraction and understanding that can act as a kind of solace neither of them have any other way to access, sorry those actual murder babies sometimes have some communication problems. lmao. but also it's insane to me that people read that scene (in which they're dancing to, i'm not making this up, iris by the goo goo dolls - i mean they don't tell us the song but it's a slow goo goo dolls number that even tobias knows, so - they're dancing to iris by the goo goo dolls at a school dance that is not going well because they are both awkward about the newfound public Officialness of their relationship and rachel who is the only one of them who has ever been capable of socializing like a normal person is in a particularly bad mood because of the emotional hangover of her starfish adventure [great concept executed terribly in the previous book], and then like after two entire minutes of letting himself feel some nice emotions tobias spots the clock and starts leaving to go demorph and then rachel runs after to him to awkwardly attempt to share that she is very fucked up about how insane she has become and she wants to hold on to things like school dances and also this is all happening in a hallway by a student poster on red tailed hawks that states their lifespan of a handful of years in the wild, it's so good) as rachel trying to trap tobias in morph, when like, first of all, "good thing happening -> time to punish myself for feeling nice for 5 whole seconds " is like THEE tobias thought pattern because he's the number one kidlit trauma baby of all time, like truly the first time i dove back into the series i was struck by how well his narrative voice captures Child Of Insane Family Dysfunctionality, he is NOT a reliable narrator on this, but also second, and more saliently, like, believing this scene is rachel attempting to trap tobias in morph requires that you believe rachel, all by herself, made a plan in advance and then attempted to execute it, which is a skill we literally never see her demonstrate even one fucking time outside of the comfortingly familiar hunting ground of the mall

[becca-e-barnes]

literally every day i think about a free use situation with dbf bucky 🥲 doing the dishes and having him come up behind you, pull your skirt up and panties down, and just take you there immediately bc he knows you’re always wet and ready for him

I've always thought free use sounds like a lot of fun, I gotta say 😏

And I like the thought of him getting himself all worked up but he knows he can't have you right away. Maybe you have some guests over and even though you've happily been in a free use arrangement, he's got to have a little self-restraint.

He'd be just sitting at the kitchen counter, overhearing the others engage in some polite conversation but he's not really listening. Instead, he's watching how you're just absentmindedly clearing up, slipping dishes into the dishwasher, putting utensils in the sink and wiping down the kitchen counters after dinner.

The hem of your dress comes to just above your knees and he finds he just can't stop staring at your bare legs. He's trailed his lips and tongue up your legs so many times, over the sensitive, slightly ticklish spot at the back of your knee, on his way to a part of your body he wants to kiss so much more.

He can't help himself. He needs you and he knows you'll gladly take him. He just needs all these people to leave first although a little part of him considers getting started with everyone else watching. Particularly Ari. He gets awfully flirty with you but Bucky almost thinks that Ari would probably join, rather than back off. That might not be the worst idea.

As soon as the kitchen clears though, he's on you, his lips on your neck, one hand squeezing your breast, the other holding your hip. "I'm sorry baby, I can't wait." He groans, letting the hand on your hip trail down your thigh, pulling your dress up.

"You don't need to wait. Just be quick." You tease, smiling to yourself at the tiny groan he breathes against your shoulder. He loves knowing he can just take you; that you want him to use you whenever he needs to and he's just as receptive to you when you want him.

"Fuck, you're a dream come true." He whispers, pressing two of his fingers into your hot mouth while he undoes his belt with the other hand. "Get them wet for me, sweetheart."

You suck on them for a few seconds, swirling your tongue around his fingers before they're removed from your mouth. Your panties are pushed to the side, his wet fingertips teasing your entrance before pressing in because despite your rapidly building arousal, you wouldn't have been slick enough to take him without some extra help.

"That's it. Good girl. You're always ready for me in no time, aren't you? You take me whenever I want." He bends you forward slightly for easier access before rubbing the tip of his cock against your soft core.

You stifle a quiet sob, feeling him begin to press inside you. It's not quite the perfect glide he's used to but it's still more than comfortable. "Rub yourself. Get nice and wet for me." He growls in your ear and you can't disobey an order like that. Your own hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your sensitive clit quickly and it doesn't take long for your body to respond.

"Good girl. All wet and messy for me. Shit, you were made for this, weren't you? You were made to be bent over and fucked whenever I want. Hope you know I'm taking your panties. I don't care who sees my cum running down your legs." Something in you loves the thought of that and he knows it. The thought of having to keep your legs crossed to stop his release from dripping. The thought of everyone realising you're not quite as wholesome as they might have thought.

[waddles-ex-machina]

funniest example of me being mansplained to is when my coworker started explaining what the ‘production’ part of the show pipeline is to me (im an animator. i AM the production). 2nd funniest is when the same guy told me I was wrong abt whether or not a cartoon was made by luke pearson -

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​

[iwantyoursexmp3]

not about poetry but i don't trust people who go online spewing vague declarations of "in order to write you need to understand Form And Structure!!!!" because there's prose fuckheads who do the same thing where they just vaguely say you need to understand Structure before you write a novel, but by structure they usually just mean the three act structure and the hero's journey and they've never studied or considered how structure can function beyond that, especially in non-western/non-english writing theories. the minute someone is like ohhhh but the Structure.....in a vague manner like that i'm like okay so you don't actually know structure because if you had deeply studied structure in writing theory as you claim to have done, you would know how complex and fluid and varied and malleable it is and it's not just one thing you Learn How To Do like putting a table together. and it's not something you will one day know perfectly because you will, ideally, encounter new ideas to structure a story as you expand your reading and your own writing. anyway i'm done for now i'm logging off to read more filthy animals by brandon taylor, potluck was such a good short story collection opener. i'm excited to see how he links these stories into a structured collection. i'm excited to read family meal by bryan washington when i'm done because he did a lot of fun things with really short + really long chapters in memorial and i learnt a lot about structure and pacing from there.

[katsidhe]

wrt. to season 15, and late season 11 once Chuck has returned, I think it is literally impossible that Lucifer doesn’t deeply, deeply resent Sam for having been the one to catalyze his father’s homecoming. Because like, let’s go over what happened there: Lucifer plays the big bad rebel, gets locked up and relegated to solitary isolation for millennia. Sam comes along and not only ruins Lucifer’s plans and sticks him back in the Cage, but does so in a way that messes up God’s original meta plans in a way that Lucifer knows he never could. I think that a lot of Lucifer’s fury in s5 and in s11 is from the way he’s never been able to foil Chuck-as-chessmaster: his rebellions were all for nothing, they were scripted, and everyone else buys in. 

But not Sam. Even without all the messy baggage of Sam, and not Lucifer, being the one to finally convince Chuck to come home and see if the stove’s turned off in s11, there’s still the fact of that initial victory. Sam tears up the script in s5, and then he does it again in s11--he’s the one who summons Amara, he’s the one who Chuck comes for in 11.20. It’s worth noting that while Chuck is rescuing Sam, Lucifer is literally being tortured by Amara. I promise that this has not escaped his notice. 

Chuck’s story requires that Sam/Abel/Lucifer/Amara (and arguably Mary) be rebels. The role of the rebel can be heroic, tragic, sympathetic, regrettable, or even out-and-out villainous, but it is a requisite: Chuck needs people who are dissatisfied with the rules as written. This proscribed rebellion is both what prompts Lucifer’s nihilism and what eventually lets Sam emerge victorious from the smoking rubble of SPN.

Meta-narratively, there is something fascinating in how Chuck seems far more invested in justifying/exploring the reasons for Dean/Cain/Michael/his own actions—his own role in the story, that of status quo—than in exploring the bitterness and grievance that Sam/Abel/Lucifer/Amara feel. It’s that sense of narrative disenfranchisement that makes Lucifer and Amara lose themselves, but it also gives Sam the chance to sneak under the radar.

[kyuala]

SOOOOOO hard to go through everyday life trying to ignore the never-ending feeling that im just irreparably fucked up and therefore should just give up on everything

[vargaslovinghours]

Y’all are being subjected to my Sims 2 tests, so there

The other set of Vargases came over for a visit and Scriabin picked up Shmee and started talking to Scriabin through him. Very normal, very usual

I downloaded some circle-glasses recolours and hghghh they look so good! Closer every day to his final details! Getting ever closer!

Edgar too! I made him a custom hair with a lighter undercut - I’m mostly happy with it, probably could’ve shifted it a shade closer to his skintone but the texturing was weird no matter what :P And his stripey shirt! I wish Body Shop didn’t have that hands-on-hips pose lol, it looks so much better in-game, but that’s all the better :)

I got some new clothes for Todd as well! As soon as I saw this ‘fit I was like “Oh that’s 100% Todd there he is.” Scriadad hug ♥ So cute

Foot-dancing together stopp it’s so cute!!

The way he looks at them stoppp <3 <3 They kept doing this right up til they left for home haha, Todd’s giggles are the cutest

Used SimPE to save him to the Body Shop, I now have infinite copies of The Boyyyy ♪

Moved him in with his “parents” as just shadow people basically, they’re not gonna matter in a bit as long as I remember how to get the Social Worker/Adoption process to work properly. Get her Todd!!

Wanna play? :D

Menacing :(

Look, Todd, your new dads are here! Initially I wasn’t sure who I wanted to adopt him, got lots of options; the first passes, the married couple with their own Todd, Johnny?? He definitely doesn’t have the facilities for a child lol But these are the ones that showed up on their own, so the married Vargases are the winners!

Scriabin cares more about him than his actual parents ;; A stranger off the street shows him more care! Not that it’s a high watermark

Look at him being a good dad!

Weh, he just wants friends ;; Poor baby

Best timeline, thank you

While we wait for CPS, let’s get some other interactions in! Nny is mean so he tended to prank the other two with a nose flick - mostly Edgar lol ♪ Now kiss

“Oh please don’t break all my bones~ :3” I love Todd looking up at them haha <3

Pffft, I think he was talking about the other Scriabin and just how attractive he is. Classic Scriabin. Alternatively, also funny to imagine him bragging himself up about how he’s just so handsome that Edgar can’t help but love him hahaha ♪

Allow me to tickle you with my KNIFE! >:D

Get a load of this guy lol

He ended up passing out at one point - I forgot which motives make CPS show up >.> - and completely 0%’d his comfort, but for some reason stargazing increased it?? It’s the same ground wh

Is two not enough to satisfy your butterfly bloodlust child?? He ended up with three, I had him release them before he was picked up by the Social Worker - success!

He rolled a new Want as soon as Todd was taken away - “Wants to see Ghost of Todd” Woah, dark! :0

And here he is on the married Vargases’ lot!! Success!! I did it right!! Heck yeah! :D Unfortunately they were uh, indisposed at the time. Good job guys pft

Goes right for Shmee, he really is Todd <3

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

thinking about hamilton and burr together but not in a kissing way but in a you are so different on surface but are made of the same core way. they have the same sort of wants and hurt but they project it in such different ways.

[sonknuxadow]

why does the sonic wiki talk about idw werehog like that. its like "sonic the werehog is a transformation sonic was able to achieve after being infected with an unknown illness" we literally know what it was though?? it was dark gaia. the events of all the games up to sonic forces happened in the idw timeline so obviously it was dark gaia????? what do you mean we dont know what caused it