#bb kitchen basic

[sims2ccfindsbyck]

DOTY Round 4 Sets & Recolors Deatherella

Four recolors of Mammut's Muklas. I didn't use them, but I made them.

Four recolors of Yolartut's Parisian Dining Table conversion. 

I didn't do tablecloths since I used Kim's in my entry.

Old wood recolors of Yolarut's Advington Dining table, chair, and shelf conversions.

fixed leoz94's bxcomd dining booth mesh so that it's recolorable. 

They didn't test it in game so I stuck inge's seat mods on it and my sims sat and chatted.

There are two old wood recolors. You can see one of them in the prev's above.

Old wood recolors of BB Kitchen Counter - master for islands and barstools.

Sign recolor for Grace of my SimThings rustic sign conversion.

I made a pink and whiter recolor of 2FW's conversion of OmfGinger's sheet cake mesh.

But, that's not all I did. I edited the txmt so that it wasn't a dark beige-y sort of color anymore.

The edited mesh is the far left white one.

I redid all their recolors and also, JinxxSims' recolors with the new txmt.

4to2 conversions of SimsHouse's Bakery Wall Art sets 1, 2, and 3.

4to2 Simcredible's Country Coffee and Country Coffee Dining

My download includes both sets in one. My old wood recolors are included, as well.

I wanted to point out something about the mug tree rack. As you can see, move_objects on places the little plant

on top of it as it should when on the floor. But when the mug tree rack is on a counter slot and you use a counter omsp to place

the plant, the omsp doesn't line up with the counter center slot. So, boolpropping becomes necessary.

I used an endtable for the base for the counter. It won't work as a counter, but has five slots. Three on top.

The water tank part of the deco coffeemaker has triangles showing from the faces in it that none of my attempts at editing have cured. If anyone

can figure out a way to fix that, please, do so and share it.

Includes all Simcredible recolors, compressed and collection files.

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Leather, Whiskey, and Pine

Leather, Whiskey, and Pine

a/n: Y’all. Y’all. The short amount of time in which I wrote this actually does boggle my mind, but I’m so obsessed with it and I can’t wait to hear what y’all think. I love, love, love this Pedro character and I’ve been wanting to write about him for a while. I really tried to give y’all a lot of content for this one because I was putting a lot of effort into every aspect of it, so I hope y’all enjoy. This one’s for you baby @burguesinha24

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, girthy age gap (reader is legal at all times i repeat at all times and Joel is like late forties idk imagine what you will), LOTS OF TENSION AND BUILD UP, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv, Joel is like a mild perv here but we’re not judging because we accept it from him (be a perv it’s ok bb), the reader is pretty down bad but basically yeah valid in all ways

word count: 4.3 k

Leather, whiskey, and pine.

Three things, the sense of which that were so distinctly his.

Who would’ve thought that the combination of such vastly separate things could become so addicting, so intoxicating?

Your fall from grace wasn’t quite planned; how could it have been? There was no way to predict that your family would move halfway across the country to Texas, or that your dad would become so uncharacteristically close with the first neighbor who introduced himself, or that the neighbor would be him.

Joel.

You were only seventeen when you first met him, when you first shook his hand, when you first looked into his eyes, when you first heard his voice. He had been so polite, so respectful, a quality you had come to resent whenever it came from him. 

He had hosted a barbeque to welcome your family to the neighborhood; it was so cliche, but oh, how you had enjoyed it. And oh, how he had enjoyed that little sundress you wore. Joel was beyond professional the entire time, aggravatingly so, and you regrettably missed the subtle glances he would send your way every now and then. He knew it was wrong, so taboo, but he couldn’t help himself.

You were the equivalent of heaven on earth. 

Rather conversely, he didn’t miss the way your pretty eyes grazed over his broad shoulders, never failing to linger a moment longer than they should on the zipper of his jeans. It was sinful, how deceptively innocent you looked. Your childlike enthusiasm never failed to amuse him, your doe eyes sparking some very interesting thoughts.

He almost hated himself for the way he silently objectified you, but he couldn’t. How could he? If someone like you was so entranced by him, there must be something worthwhile. 

Pathetic.

Joel was a grown ass man. Generously old enough to be your father, with a year or two left over. All the better, in your mind, but it was torture for Joel. Knowing a pretty young thing like you wanted him like that and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it? No, that knowledge was hell on earth.

It was at one of the many parties your father hosted where you first touched Joel. And not in a simple way, or with a silly handshake. No, it was intimate. At least, the two of you thought so.

He had come into the kitchen while the others were occupied with the football game, catching you in the unfortunate act of sneaking a swig of Tito’s from the cabinet. Rookie mistake, to be sure, risking a drink when anyone could walk in. Rather than guilt, you felt as though the Fates had smiled down at you when Joel strolled in.

He had raised an eyebrow at you, his chocolate brown eyes flickering to the bottle in your hand, likely moments away from being refilled with water. You had bitten your lip, feigning worry and quickly shoving the bottle back into the cabinet. You had stepped closer, peering up at him through those damned eyes of yours.

“You won’t tell, Joel, will you?” Your voice had sounded so sweet, so blameless, but he steeled himself against your whispered words. What kind of friend would he be if he let his best friend’s daughter get away with this? Yes, he had momentarily chosen to ignore the rampant lustful thoughts he had about you on a daily basis.

“Ain’t right, sweetheart.” He had mumbled in his southern drawl, the last word flowing off his tongue so sweetly you could swear he was made of honey. “S’a bad habit.” You could’ve rolled your eyes at his poor attempt to discipline you, but you chose a different route. You raised your delicate, manicured hand to grasp his forearm, leaning in closer.

“Please, Joel?” And fuck, the sight of you pleading for him like that? The only thing missing was you on your knees. He couldn’t possibly deny you your secret now, not with how you were looking at him so desperately. It was feigned, of course; like you gave a shit if your parents found out. But him; you gave a shit for him.

With a defeated sigh and a soft smile, Joel took a swig from the bottle himself before handing it over to you. He leaned in close, his lips millimeters away from the shell of your ear as his hand rested gently on your exposed shoulder.

“Ain’t right, what you do to me.” You shivered at his wholly inappropriate words with wholly inappropriate connotations, blinking once or twice as he walked away to be sure you weren’t dreaming. While there was no real way to explain away what he had said, your mind damn well tried.

He was just kidding, he was being facetious, that jokester. If you could’ve thought of another synonym for ‘joking,’ you would’ve used it. As much as you wanted your deepest desires to come true, your greater desire happened to be not entirely embarrassing yourself by misinterpretation.

The following weeks turned into months, which soon turned into a year. You were finally off to college, which regrettably led you away from Joel. It’s for the best, you thought, deceiving yourself once again into believing you miraculously misinterpreted every glance, every linger of his touch, everything.

Despite every bit of judgement shoving you in the other direction, you had made the poor decision to invite Joel to your graduation party. Your dad would be there, so it couldn’t seem too weird, right? 

Right? 

You had convinced yourself of it either way, slipping into the shortest dress you owned under the ceremonious robes. The heels you had chosen elongated your legs just enough, the curls in your hair perfectly framing your face. God, you were so desperate for him.

This time, you hadn’t blindly missed the way his gaze lingered on your accentuated calves, or the way he had kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe jeans weren’t the best choice, he had thought to himself. An unfortunate lack of forethought on his part.

He had felt as though the party would never end, forced to watch you laugh and dance with you friends, looking so pretty when you smiled. He had snuck out after a while onto the balcony, leaning against the railing with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He had needed air, and appropriate space from you.

Rather unluckily, you had somehow wandered to that very place of respite, finding your place beside him against the railing.

“Party too much for you, old man?” You had teased playfully, nudging his shoulder with your own. He let out a scoff at your would-be insult, unable to fight back the amused smile pulling on his lips.

“You underestimate me, sweetheart.” That sexy southern drawl of his mixed with those words had your stomach fluttering, and you even grasped the rail a little tighter.

“Do I?” You had stepped closer, your upper arm now pressed against his. Tease, he had thought. You knew exactly what you were doing. He grunted in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to speak when you looked like that.

Your plump, pink lips slightly parted, your eyes a little wide as you stared up at him, a strand of hair or two out of place across your forehead.

Before he could stop himself, his calloused hand was already tucking that strand back into place behind your ear, the pad of his finger trailing down to the crook of your neck. You involuntarily shivered at his touch, earning a pleased smirk from him.

Damn my responsiveness, you had thought to yourself. In a shred of buzzed courage, you mimicked his actions, allowing your finger to rest in the same place on him. You smiled triumphantly as he reacted in the same way.

Parallels, parallels, parallels.

A thought had popped into your head; a bad one. You knew it would be wrong to actually ask something of him, especially given the very specific circumstances you found yourselves in, but it had seemed as though it couldn’t be helped. Looking back, it could have. You could have stopped yourself, using a rare opportunity to exercise better judgement, but instead you employed the progressive philosophy that had worked for you thus far.

Fuck it.

“Joel?” You had hummed sweetly, tearing your eyes away from where you were still touching him to meet his gaze. His breath hitched at the look in your eyes; so innocent, but so full of something he couldn’t quite place. He had mimicked your hum, words failing him as he urged you to continue.

“I…” You had hesitated, suddenly increasingly unsure of yourself. Swallowing thickly, you steeled yourself under his knee-weakening gaze and took your chance. “I want you to kiss me.”

If Joel had been taking a drink at that moment, he would’ve choked. Those words were the last things he expected to fly out of your mouth so immediately, almost casually. But you were feeling anything but casual. If anything, you felt as though your panties might vanish by the very look he was giving you.

Before he could snap himself out of his state of disbelief, you shifted your hand to grasp his forearm, your eyes now filled with something akin to urgency.

Desperation.

“I’ve never kissed anyone, Joel, and I…” You swallowed thickly. “I want you to be my first.” You could’ve cringed visibly at the ridiculous words you had just spoken, but upon seeing Joel’s  reaction, you realized he might not have had the same impression.

He looked flustered.

“Sweetheart, I-” You cut him off, placing a finger to his lips to silence him. It was his turn to shiver at your touch.

“Please, Joel.” Jesus Christ, those words. Those same words you had whispered to him a year ago, and how he had longed to hear them again. You were breaking him, his resolve slowly crumbling. He fought with himself internally, and you could see the gears turning behind those deep brown eyes. He wanted to, God, he needed to, but he couldn’t.

It was wrong.

In this case, too wrong for him to come to terms with at that moment.

He had taken an uncertain step backward, your hand falling to your side as he put the distance between you.

“Have fun at college, darlin’.” He rasped, sounding as though he were talking through a lump in his throat. “We’ll miss ya’.” He whispered the last part, and you could swear you heard a sniffle as he walked away. And with only a few simple words, the man you had wanted for the past year of your life had broken your heart.

He had broken you.

In the months that followed, you soon found that college life bored you. At no parties, in no friendships, during no meaningless flings could you find what you had felt with Joel. What you had felt just by being in his mere presence was something no boy could give you, and you came to realize no other man could, either.

Tiny, insignificant memories of him had begun to fade into the background, new and equally insignificant experiences and people taking over the place in your mind he had once dominated. It was more a forced forgettance, to be sure, not really a natural occurrence. Nothing you did could ever truly get rid of Joel; no, he always lingered in your thoughts, in your heart that you had since glued back together.

No mindless, useless sex or nameless guy above you could make you forget him, the smell of him, the feel of him. Ironically, you nearly did forget he would be there when you returned home from the summer, partially due to him purposefully ‘missing’ visits during holidays.

He had avoided them at all costs. After all, how could he face you after that night? He had turned down the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, who had conveniently, metaphorically fallen at his very feet. He was an idiot, and he knew it. He assumed you did too.

And that is why it was such a shock when you finally did see him at the ‘welcome home’ party your parents had thrown for you. That is why your heart nearly beat out of your chest at the sight of his rolled up sleeves, those beautifully defined forearms, his greying beard and soft curls atop his head, his fucking eyes.

Whoever said that brown eyes are the worst color can park their foot up their ass because it’s a damn lie.

You suddenly felt self conscious about your outfit choice, all for nought as it fully grabbed Joel’s attention. The sight of your fucking ass in those jean shorts could’ve made him bust then and there, but he had a little more class than that.

A little.

You had reduced him to the likes of a pervy (perfectly welcome) teenage boy, holding a pillow over his lap on the couch to obstruct anyone’s view of his painful hard-on. And God, when you walked up to him as you adjusted the strap of that little tank top, he thought he could die. He almost wanted to when your eyes flickered to the frilly pillow he was squeezing the life out of.

“Hey, Joel. It’s been a long time.” Shit, your smile. You were effortlessly pretty, and he was convinced you would never know how much. You couldn’t, because it was practically blinding.

“Hey yourself, sweetheart.” Your knees nearly buckled at the tilted smile on his face, but you narrowly managed to keep your composure. Since you could tell he wouldn’t be standing any time soon, you plopped on the couch next to him, bouncing up slightly as the cushion springs gave way. Clearing his throat, Joel forced himself to speak.

“How’s college treatin’ ya’?” He drawled smoothly, fighting against all odds to keep his eyes from trailing down to your cleavage.

Fuck, I should be institutionalized, he thought.

“It’s…different, I suppose.” You shrugged casually, leaning into the plush cushion against your back.

“How so?” He rasped, clearing his throat awkwardly. You were too entranced by his sizable hands and thick fingers to notice.

“Well, I guess it’s quite like high school except…bigger?” Idiot. Dumb, stupid, moron. Why couldn’t you talk to him? Everything used to be so easy between the two of you, and you supposed you had ruined it that night.

Unfortunate.

He let out a little laugh, distracting himself from his own awkwardness by focusing on yours. It was cute when it was you. Before you had time to talk any longer, a friend called you away, forcing you to excuse yourself in the manner you least wanted to. You wanted to stay. You wanted to stay with him.

It wasn’t until an hour later when you both found yourselves on that same balcony, staring at the same stars you had been a year ago.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Your voice was airy, gentle, almost wistful as you gazed at the twinkles in the sky. He smiled, nodding in agreement, his eyes anywhere but the stars.

He was looking at you.

“Stunning.” He muttered the word so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it. Almost. You decided to refrain from teasing him about his obvious behavior, at least for the time being. He was making you feel too many things all at once.

Heartbreak, joy, melancholy, desire.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you leaned over the railing, still admiring the view you found to be so peaceful. You had never been truly uncomfortable around Joel. Flustered, surely, but never uneasy. It wasn’t possible.

“Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ this, darlin’, but…” He hesitated, his eyes flickering between yours. His voice dropped a pitch as he continued, subconsciously leaning closer. “You look real pretty tonight.” A blush spread across your cheeks like wildfire, and you spared a look down at your lacking outfit. Before you could reject the complement, he shook his head, silencing your unspoken rebuttal with just one look.

“Real pretty.” Your lips parted as your breath hitched, and you could feel the sincerity in his eyes. He always meant what he said, even if he didn’t always say what he wanted.

Looking at you, Joel’s resolve was quickly fading into the background, the sight of you staring up at him so innocently stirring something dangerous inside him. He was preparing to abandon every boundary he had set that night, without a care in the world for what the consequences might be.  

“Joel-” The very instant that his whispered name left your perfect lips, that was it. You had now broken him as he had broken you. Utterly and completely. It wasn’t a moment before he was on you, pinning you against the railing with his hands on your hips, his lips on yours.

Your first kiss.

Sure, you had been with some of the guys at college, but you had maintained one standard rule. No kissing. It was completely pathetic, to be sure, but in this moment you praised whatever higher power there was that you had the foresight to stick with it. This made it all worth it, every disgusted sneer, every joke made in poor taste, every insult.

He was worth it.

You hadn’t expected your first kiss to be so climactic, or so genuinely pivotal. But it truly felt like fireworks the moment he pressed his mouth to yours, your lips moving in tandem to create a perfect rhythm. Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging lightly as he pressed his body so close to yours that you thought you might become one.

He pulled back for a split second, only for air, before cupping the back of your head and diving in with more passion than before. He let his tongue glide over your bottom lip, taking advantage of the gasp it earned him and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Yours tangled with his, trapped in a beautiful dance that you never wanted to end. You wanted to stay like this forever.

You pulled away this time, panting heavily and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“You really like kissing.” You pointed out stupidly, metaphorically drunkenly, toying with the bit of hair at the nape of his neck. He huffed out an amused laugh, running a hand through his mussed curls.

“I really like kissin’ you, baby.” He cruelly didn’t allow you time to process those poetic words before he was on you again, hauling you to sit atop the railing as he moved in between your thighs. And you could see, or rather, feel, that he really did like kissing you, as if he couldn't survive one more moment apart from your lips.

In a blissful moment of peace, with just him against you, you could sense those three things again.

Leather, whiskey, and pine.

The leather of his jacket under your fingertips, the whiskey on his tongue as it swirled with yours, the pine that just was embedded in him.

It was just Joel.

When you both realized you couldn’t go any farther on the very exposed balcony, he whisked you inside of your bedroom, gingerly setting you atop the frilly sheets that had been there since you left last fall. He finally allowed his lips to grant you attention elsewhere, to press open mouthed pecks to the soft skin of your neck, moving down to your collarbone, and then your chest. He undressed you with so much care it was as if lust wasn’t even a factor, as if he was doing it for you.

He let out a muffled moan against your neck as he felt your hands on his chest, sneaking under his shirt before you removed it completely. You marveled at the way his muscled chest heaved with each pant, at the way his biceps flexed as he hovered above you. He was so perfect.

Within minutes you were both bare for each other, Joel’s eyes blown wide as they landed on the space between your thighs. He thought you were perfect.

“God, baby, you’re so pretty.” He breathed, settling himself between your thighs in a trance, hooking your legs over his shoulders. You clutched the sheets beneath you in anticipation, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. When his lips met your core, you let out a breathy moan, arching off the bed as he pleasured you like no one had before.

With just his mouth.

He hadn’t even used his fucking fingers yet.

The moans he let out against your dripping pussy wracked through your body, and you fought to keep from suffocating him with your thighs. He gripped onto the plush skin tightly, his tongue working you like a man starved.

And he did feel like he had been truly starved of you.

His tongue flicked over your swollen clit, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching against your sweat-sheened skin as his fingers finally made their way inside of you, stretching you open deliciously to get you ready for what was to come. He let his free hand toy with your sensitive bud as he pulled away, his eyes locked on how your pussy clenched around his thick, veiny fingers as they curled to hit the perfect spot. You writhed underneath him restlessly, a hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the moans that wouldn’t stay inside.

“Joel, m’gonna-” It was so cliche, but so, so intense. You were right on the edge, the very precipice, and he pulled away. You gasped at the feeling of being so suddenly empty, your brow knitting together as you shot up.

“Wha-” He cut you off, pinning your arms beside your head as he crawled on top of you.

“Need to be inside you when you come, pretty girl. Wanna feel you.” He mumbled, sucking on your neck as he blindly aligned himself with your entrance. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him impossibly closer as your arms remained beside your head. He let out a low, guttural groan as he slowly inched inside of you, still so tight even though he had worked you over for what felt like a blissful eternity.

“Fuck, sweetheart, so fuckin’ tight.” He rasped, his voice hoarse with desire as he bottomed out, his leaking tip kissing your cervix. You were speechless, breathless as he began to pull back again, only to thrust in fully once more. And again, and again, and again.

He set a relentless pace, and you could swear he reached a deeper place with each snap of his hips, his pelvis smacking against your nearly overstimulated clit. You whined and moaned louder than you should have, unable to be silenced as his veiny cock stretched your slick walls around him.

“Don’t - shit - don’t stop, Joel, p-please…” You moaned, your back arching almost painfully off of the bed. He had no intention of stopping. In fact, spurred on by your plea, his pace only increased, your mouth falling open and your eyes clamping shut as it all became too much.

As that knot in your stomach grew unbearably, as he fucked into you harder, as he held onto you tighter…

It all came crashing down.

You didn’t even register that you came together, the stuttering of his hips failing to distract from the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm crashing through your body, thrumming through your veins, unrelenting.

His arms shook with the struggle to keep from collapsing on top of you, and he soon rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. With his scruffy, unshaven face buried in your neck, he breathed you in deeply. He always did love the scent of your shampoo.

“My sweet girl.” He hummed, the sound muffled under your hair. “Been wantin’ you for so long.” The admittance was soft, but so clearly heard. Exhaustion was quickly taking you over, though, preventing you from responding in the way that you truly wanted. He smiled softly at your little grunt of acknowledgment, leaving momentarily and returning with a warm cloth to clean the both of you with. He was gentle, ever the gentlemen as if he hadn’t just ravaged you entirely, returning to the bed not soon enough. 

You entangled yourself with him, quite like a koala, and nuzzled your face into his chest. You could feel his very essence as you laid with him, experiencing him so deeply and fully. Those three words left your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“I love you, Joel.” You had drifted off before he could even reply; but he did, and with those same three words you had been dying to hear fall from his lips for two years.

And in your sleep you dreamed of him and those same three things, the things you had longed for forever.

Leather, whiskey, and pine.

[demonlorddiva]

Obey me! Brothers when your drunk!

You did really good on a test you’ve been working on and Diavolo said you could have anything you wanted! Any other human would ask for money, a vacation, or anything their hearts desired. But you? Your simple. Without the ability to buy human world alcohol in the devildom you asked diavolo to pick you up some for a night of fun! (And chaos) you decide that staying home and drinking is the best option as to not be in danger of other demons. How will the other brothers react?

*Obvi the reader is over 21 or the age of consuming alcohol in their country

Lucifer

You decided that since drinking demonus with him was one of your regular dates in his office, you could do the same thing and drink with him!

He’s glad to see you don’t want to leave the house. And that you want to drink with him makes him even more at ease

Plus his pride is soaring that hes the first person to see you drunk

The night is simple, drinks, music, and a wonderful conversation

It’s not often he gets to let loose and drink to his hearts desire, and with you? What a better time

If your walking funny he immediately picks you up and takes you to his room at the end of the night

He wants to make sure your okay through the night (and he wants to cuddle) (he’s v affectionate when he’s drunk)

He knew the night was happening, so by his bedside is pain meds, water, electrolytes, the whole nine yards

Will cuddle you in the morning and tease you about the silly things you said

Mammon

PARTY TIMEEEEE

You don’t wanna leave the house

He whines

You put your foot down

INDOOR PARTY TIMEEEE

You know he has his room set up for the perfect movie night, pillows, blankets, popcorn, the whole nine yards

Has a drinking game set up so you both can play

And ofc he set up the rules so you would both be hammered even before the movie ended

But the popcorn ran out and you guys are still hungry

Y’all have to hold hands as you go downstairs to the kitchen to make some instant noodles for each other

Lucifer catches y’all being too rowdy and forces y’all to go to bed

Mammon is absolutely WRECKED when he’s hungover (the hangsiety is real) not to mention his head pounding and his stomach hurting

You both spend the next day cuddling, with you telling him how much you love him, and how you think he’s still so cool even after you saw him faceplant on the floor

Levi

A night??? With you??? And you’ll be drunk??

He assures you multiple times that your safe and he absolutely doesn’t want to take advantage of you (not that you were worried in the slightest about that) (Levi bb calm down)

Y’all decide to play devil beerio kart (it’s like beerio kart if you’ve ever played, I’ll explain the rules)

Basically NO DRUNK DRIVING

During one race, you have to finish your beer (or other drink) you can drink it all before the race, stop any time in between, or stop before you finish the race and chug your drink

After a few races y’all are LIT

You guys end up yapping for a while before you put on an anime and cuddle (Levi’s to drunk to be nervous)

When you both wake up your hurting and hungover and Levi is FREAKING

The hangsiety is real with him

Just keep cuddling with him and tell him it’s okay and to fall back asleep

Satan

He seems like the guy who doesn’t care to drink

But for you? And to see you drink? But of course

I think y’all pull out a board game or card game and take a shot every time you lose

He’s curious after every drink how your feeling even though his ability to remember things is getting fogged

He’s giggly when he’s drunk, and that’s a somewhat rare sight in your day to day life so you spend the rest of the night laughing and talking

Hates that your hurting in the morning (even though this was your idea)

Has all the medicines and drinks for you on hand to help you feel better

Demands silence in the house so your headache doesn’t get worse

Asmo

PARTY TIME

I mean.. this is a special occasion right? Just because you can’t leave the house doesn’t mean you can’t have fun!

A slumber party is in order with all the works! Face masks, popcorn and snacks, and doing your nails of course.

Y’all get silly and chat and gossip all night

But you have to tell him NO PICTURES even if he begs

I feel like y’all get super sappy drunk girl talking

“NO YOUR THE GREATEST PERSON IVE MET”

At some point, after a bit of drinking someone (both of ya) get the great idea to start prank calling people

You: “is your refrigerator running?”

Beel: “uhhh yeah”

You: “well then you better go catch it!!” *click*

The other brothers had to deal with Beel guarding the fridge in fear that it would ‘run away’

We all know you guys are BIG BABIES the next day being hungover

Be prepared to cuddle and complain together all the next day

Beel

He also doesn’t seem to be a drinking guy

But he’s down to try anything! I think he’d like cocktails with fun ingredients

DEF loves Bloody Mary’s

So I think that’s the night, y’all spend your night in the kitchen coming up with different drinks and getting drunker along the way

Y’all order WAYYY too much Chinese takeout and have a great time

Feel like beel gets sappy when he’s tipsy and tells you how much he cares about you and y’all snuggle and stuff

Makes you a DELICIOUS hangover meal for you

Like a Waffle House setup but at home

Def cuddles you and is worried if you feel bad the next day (I feel like beel doesn’t get hangovers)

Belphie

Feel like he’s not a drinker as well

But the opportunity to drink with you? And he’s the only one who can see? Oh yeah he needs to see this

Y’all decide a movie drinking game.

Example: watch pirates of the Caribbean and drink every time they say captain or ship

Y’all get lit QUICK

Decide to pull a prank on Lucifer and you guys talk FOREVER about the plan, what your gonna do and it’s happening TONIGHT

.. queue YALL falling asleep and never do anything LMAO

The next day is full of bedrotting and sleeping

He makes fun of you for anything silly you did

But you can make fun of him back, the way he was stumbling was really funny

In true drinking fashion I wrote this while I was drunk HELLO

Obviously not proofread love you!!! Been really sad about the story not continuing with obey me so I’ll be posting my drafts and more ideas a bit more often for a while

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

[bonefall]

Wow you posted this right as I was reading all abt dishonor titles

Anyway gonna ask now else I will forget again, if you wanted the cats to have like notebooks/sketchbooks,what's the closest thing to use because idk if you think the kitty cats invented ways to make paper

In BB, the cats haven't advanced quite enough to be creating books, but they actually create parchment!

Parchment is essentially super fine, light leather. There's also vellum, made of calf skin, and slunk, made of fetal skin, which are even finer and higher quality.

(I wish I could say which of these that mouse skins would result in, but I have yet to find any record of people even trying to make it out of mouse pelts. So I'm just calling it parchment, until someone, someday, somehow, can confirm if mouse skin is as fine as vellum or slunk.)

As a carnivorous society, they have a LOT of small animal carcasses, and the Kitchen Patrol's job is to make sure every bit of prey is processed... so, every animal is skinned, even if it's just for practice. Hence the abundance of leather.

Interestingly, Clan cats don't really have a "purpose" for parchment. It's just something they make out of prey that was skinned improperly, or which has a skin that's too damaged to make a good pelt. Scraps that would have gone to waste anyway.

Making parchment is especially popular in ShadowClan as a sort of "arts and crafts" thing for kits and apprentices. It requires a chemical bath made out of fermented scraps to soak the skins for a while, so it's essentially a way to introduce children to the ShadowClan Art of never wasting anything.

The Clans will eventually be creating some basic "art" in the near future, and might have a few permanent drawings in personal collections right now, but currently parchment is considered a "plaything." Mostly just used to make crafts, or fold up herbs, or draw on, etc.

(Clan version of kids making slime for funsies)

So if you want to zip ahead and make sketchbooks, make them out of parchment! Another good thing about it is that it can be washed and re-used-- so once your Warrior owns one, there's no stress about constantly making new pages.

(Funfact: you know how some books have straps or weights as decorations? That's a leftover from parchment binding. Parchment "breathes," reacting to moisture, so those decorations were initially made to keep the book pressed flat. They were kept in the switch to paper simply because they look cool.)

[urfavnewgirl]

waitwzitwzit i'm obsessed with the way you write jason and i saw you wanted more jason requests SOOOOO what about a fic of some nighttime kitchen activity and there's some slow jazz playing somewhere, maybe the window's open and the music from a club is drifting in and reader starts dancing and jason's like okkkk ily i will dance too and they dance togzther and it's ugghhhhh

this is kinda short im SO sorry but here u go bb! thanks for giving me an excuse to listen to strangers in the night on loop... also nawt proofread im afraid.

it's seven pm on a friday. normally, he'd be out on patrol by now, embraced by the night sky and the eerie air of gotham. normally. except nothing was normal anymore, not since he met you. breaking his usual routine, he's sitting in your cramped, tiny apartment kitchen, eyes fixated on your form. you had insisted he take the day off. it took a lot of convincing, but he had complied, partly because of the ever present fatigue plaguing his mind, partly because he could not deny you, not when you were looking at him all pouty and doe-eyed.

the room smells like herbs, tomato sauce, and you. if someone asked him to describe the latter, he would not be able to. what he knew, however, what he was certain of with every fibre of his body, was that you, present in three out of his five senses, was the most comforting feeling he'd had felt in a while. you, effortlessly moving from the sink to the stove, to the cabinet and all the way back. you, taking care of him. you, in general.

“you do know i'm capable of stirring, right?” 

you squint your eyes at him in response, waving the sauce-coated wooden spoon in front of his face. “nope. not happening. i am cooking for you tonight, end of discussion. besides, i'm almost done, anyway.”

“are you ever not stubborn?”

“are you ever not incapable of letting people do things for you?”

he sighs, shaking his head. “you do too much for me.”

rolling your eyes, you simply ignore his statement and continue working. the noodles are bubbling away on the stove, the sauce is simmering, and you're in the middle of it all, walking over to the kitchen window to allow some fresh air in. eight minutes pass in silence, and you drain the pasta water, carefully slipping the spaghetti into the pan to finish cooking in the red liquid.

that's when you hear it. the music, coming from the small bar situated in the building next door. it starts simple, your spoon following the movements of the song. he notices, of course, but he does not react immediately. it's only when your body sways as well, when you lift up the wooden instrument, use it as an impromptu microphone, that his eyebrows heighten in amusement. you turn to face him with an overdramatically serious expression.

“what? never heard of the man, the myth, the legend, frank sinatra? or are his ties to the mafia too problematic for you?”

he shakes his head in disbelief, tries to resist it, but ends up grinning. stupidly. when you notice his reaction, your dancing exaggerates even more.

“you're an idiot.”

“yeah. i am,” you walk to his side of the counter, slyly pausing in front of him, “but you love me, so,” your hand grasps his, and you pull him off the chair with no difficulty (because he's putty when it comes to you. basically play dough. kinetic sand.), “you're dancing with me.”

he rolls his eyes, but at the same time, he wraps both arms around your waist with no hesitation, leans his forehead against yours, and as always, you cannot tell whether you're suddenly running a fever, or if the warmth embracing your every cell stems solely from his soft touch. 

the song changes, and you nearly stumble from excitement. he catches you before you fall.

“sweetheart,” he mumbles, voice low, “you don't even know how to waltz, do you?”

you break away from his face to meet his eyes. “you can waltz to jazz music?”

that gets a laugh out of him. a real one, one you can't scowl at, even if you momentarily want to. 

he pulls you closer, adjusts your stance. one hand on his shoulder, another resting in his grasp. “just let me lead.” he does exactly that, and he does it with surprising smoothness. his grip is just firm enough to guide you, but it is gentle enough to still be reminiscent of a lover's touch. somehow, he always manages to find that balance with you.

when the music quiets down, you pull back to ask him a million questions, but you stop at the sight in front of you. the kitchen is dimly lit, the sky has given way to complete darkness, and your beautiful boyfriend is staring at you as if you are the finest work of art exhibited in the louvre, his pupils wide enough to reflect the moon through the window.

“jay?”

“about what you said earlier, uh...”

“what? you mean frank sinatra and the mafia? you know i don't condone all that, but chicago is a really good-”

he huffs out yet another laugh. “no, baby, not that. you,” he clears his throat, eyes briefly flickering to the floor before finding yours once more, “you said i loved you, and-” he sighs.

“i do. love you, i mean. yeah.”

once you register his words, your entire face softens. you reach forward, cupping his face the way he likes it, and kiss him. its soft, slow, and he returns it just the same way.

“i love you too.”

he smiles, leans in once more, but you pull back, nose scrunched in discomfort.

 “FUCK. the food. it's burnt.”

he sighs. “...we're getting pizza.”

[odiesdayoff]

JAIME REYES NSFW ALPHABET?? PLEASE ANYTJING NSFW JAIME 🧎🏽‍♀️

IM GONNA BE SO REAL I HAVEN'T EVEN WATCHED BB YET BUT I YEARN FOR HIM. SO BADLY. this may change when I see it like...tomorrow.

NSFW under the cut <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s a cuddler. He’ll plant kisses all over you and hold you against him. He’ll keep telling you how much he loves you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his arms. Specifically how strong he is and how it allows him to pick you up and spin you around all romantic-like.

He loves your eyes. The color, the way you look at him, the way you squint when you laugh or smile. He can stare into them for days. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s a bit more traditional and likes to cum inside. He’ll always wear a condom, though. He likes the closeness. Also includes your mouth!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s into cockwarming. Or falling asleep like that. He doesn’t know how to approach doing that. The thought of having to do some work and just you sitting with him inside? Makes him swoon. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He went through law school. In GOTHAM. Briefly a city boy. He’s had a few dates before you and he knows how to make you lose your mind. It took a bit of a learning curve to adjust to you specifically, but he’s GOOD. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When you’re, like, laying down together and spooning while fucking? Idk what that’s called. But that. He loves that. It’s just so intimate. He can hold you close.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He loves to laugh. He enjoys spending time with you and doesn’t let it get too serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trimmed. Dark and curly. That's all I'm at liberty to disclose.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so romantic. Definitely would be the type of person that lights candles and throws flower petals all over the bed. He’s such a sweetie. Will constantly tell you how attractive you are and how good you make him feel.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’ll never admit it, but he totally jerked off using a pair of your underwear that you had left at his place once. He’d rather not masturbate when he has you, but he has needs!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Heavy on a praise kink. Whether it’s giving or receiving. He’s also into you being in charge!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a little basic. In the bed. He thinks it's incredibly romantic. That, or in the kitchen and dining room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When he wakes up in the morning before you and you’re sleeping, he thinks you’re so hot he will actually melt. He would fight for his life not to wake you up and ask to fuck. You getting along with his family gets him going fr. Just seeing the people he cherishes the most getting along with you fills his heart.

Also…neck kissing!!! He looves it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’ll absolutely NEVER do any of the step-family or things related to family, even as a pretend thing or scene. That’s just way too weird. He’s far too close to his family to think about any of them sexually in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a sucker for making you come and oral is one of his favorite things to do. Bro will literally get under the table and give you head while you’re eating dinner if you even mention being a little horny or maybe someone that flirted with you. He’s gotta show you that nobody can make you feel as good as him. He’s a bit jealous.

He loves to receive, but is far too shy to ask for it. If you put it on the table, he’s giddy. He’ll somehow think that he’s degrading you by asking you to suck his dick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He takes it slow. Sometimes painfully slow, making you feel every vein in his dick each time he’s inside of you. If you asked him to be a little rougher with you, he ain’t gonna say no! When you’re on top or in charge, he lowkey loves when you kind of use him as a sex toy and go as fast as you need to reach your orgasm. He likes to prolong the moment as long as he can when you’re under him. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers not to have a quickie. He wants to spend time with you as much as he can and take his time making you feel good. He definitely would not say no if you asked him right before either of you left for work and after you woke up. He just prefers a night full of lovemaking.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It would definitely take a lot of convincing to get him to do more outlandish kinks, but he likes to try some things at least once. He’s not a “it’s hotter if we might get caught” person. Very much a behind locked doors kind of guy when it comes to sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go a few rounds. Again, the scarab would increase that stamina by a little bit. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Let’s be so real. Yeah. I don’t think he would have toys for his personal use, but getting things for your pleasure is his favorite thing to do. He loves watching you squirm as he presses a vibrator against you. He would literally ask you to watch a movie, then use the vibrator on you while you sit on his lap the entire time.

Also…that suit? It can literally be whatever he wants it to be…IF YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He looves to tease you. At the grocery store, while you’re having dinner with your/his family, washing the dishes. He wants you to be completely dripping/rock hard by the time the two of you get to fuckin’.

On the other hand, he likes when you tease him. He’s a firm believer that whatever he does to you, you can do to him. A hand on your thigh under the table at the family dinner? He won’t be surprised when you “accidentally” drop your fork and lean over him to grab it from the floor. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Some guys are afraid to moan, Jaime’s in his partner's ear losing his mind. Initially, he’d be hesitant to be noisy and all, but once he gets comfortable (or you get a place alone) he’ll make sure that you know how good you’re making him feel. He’s a whimperer. Hardcore. You can play with his hair and his breathing gets shaky.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I have a feeling that he would want to try to fuck while dressed as a priest. Maybe he watched Fleabag in college. Or had some religion in his childhood. Either that or have you dress in religious clothing and act that out. He’s not sure yet, but he wants to try it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s about average size, maybe six inches hard? Uncut. Slight curve upward.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He would be a few times a week guy normally, but after the scarab fiasco, his drive increases. You could bend over picking something up and he needs to have you right now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I feel like he would absolutely pass out after a heated night. Like, I'm talking honk shoo mimimi with one leg off the bed and only half the blanket over his body.

[sims2ccfindsbyck]

[haveihitanerve]

Sup lol, tis been a while I fear

Had story idea, and it's just Bruce and Jason hanging out, but as soon as Jason leaves, Bruce just starts bawling because 'Holy shit, my son willingly hung out with me and made plans to hang out again' and he's just so emotional

Everyone is concerned that he's crying but Alfred and Tim and probably Cass, cuz they know how Bruce was during Jason's death (and Cass can just read him like a damn book)

K bye thx!

Heyyyyy!!!! Welcome back!!! This is a wonderful idea, not sure how I'll manage to write it, but i can try :) :

It was Saturday. Jason wasn't even supposed to be visiting, family dinner wasn't until Monday, but he dropped by with Dick, chatting on about something or other.

"Hey Old Man." Jason greeted, throwing a grin Bruce's way. Bruce almost dropped the tray he was holding, newly made shortbread cookies for Damian's art club meeting. The cookies were a little burnt, but Bruce thought they looked okay.

Jason, however, was under a different opinion. He wrinkled his nose, snatching one off the tray. "What on earth is this B?" Dick laughed along, grabbing one as well, and knocked it against the counter.

"You make your batter out of cement or something?" His eldest snickered as not even a crumb fell off.

"careful, you'll dent the counter." Jason warned, a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce sighed, dumping the tray on the table. "They're for Damian. He's bringing over a few friends after school, and I thought I'd make some snacks. Cookies." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Didn't go so well."

"You? In the kitchen? Not going well?" Dick teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Never woulda guessed." Bruce rolled his eyes.

Jason shrugged off his jacket, lifting the stack of old recipe notecards. "This is a fairly easy recipe, how did you-" he shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. "Alright old man, time for a baking lesson, come on, get the ingredients, we're gonna make demon brat some snacks."

Bruce raised an eyebrow as Dick lifted his bag, backing up into the hallway. "You guys have fun- I've gotta get going-"

"Coward!" Jason hollered after him as Dick vanished up the stairs. Privately, Bruce had to agree.

But it was... nice. Jason was... well he wasn't kind in the kitchen, but he treated Bruce and his inability to bake nicer than Dick would've at least. And it was... good.

They talked about everything and nothing, and Jason even let him ruffle his hair a few times, and even allowed a hug goodbye before he and Dick headed out again. (Plus the cookies came out perfectly)

Bruce managed to hold it together until they were out the door before he collapsed, tears streaming down his cheeks as sobs shook his body.

Steph was the one to find him, lured by the smell of cookies, Tim, Cass and Duke on her tail.

"Woah." Tim paused, head cocked. "Bruce you good?" He questioned, glancing at the others, who held up their hands in equal measure of confusion.

"Yes." Bruce sobbed back. "Jason- I- he-"

"I think what he's trying to say is that he and Jason hung out today." Duke translated slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I saw them baking earlier when I came upstairs."

"Oooohhhh." Steph, Cass, and Tim nodded in agreement. "That makes sense."

Duke looked between them. "How, exactly, does him sobbing make sense?" Steph laughed.

"Oh Duke, sweety, you sweet summer child, BB and J don't have the best relationship sugarplum, in case you didn't know. So Jason willingly hanging out with him?" She mimed an explosion. "Mind-blowing."

Tim grimaced. "I wouldn't say it like that, but basically. He was a mess when Jason died. And now he like, basically gets a redo of hanging with his son."

They all stared down at Bruce sobbing on the floor.

"So..." Duke cleared his throat. "Cookies and down to the Cave to watch a movie?" The others nodded their agreement.

"Yep. Bye Bruce, have... fun."

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk. 

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

__

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or 

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment… 

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil. 

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa. 

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

__

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy, 

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity.  You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully. 

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache. 

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being. 

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more. 

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects. 

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

__

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is… 

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

__

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

__

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

__

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him. 

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

__

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

__

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts. 

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….” 

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped. 

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it. 

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!” 

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear. 

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

[ateez-himari]

Hi bb!!! I missed you so much :(((( I've been busy with exams so I haven't been active alot, I just hop in every once in a while to check if you posted anything💓

How have you been? I hope work and uni aren't too tiring

I had some questionssss as usualll

First question is kinda emotional cause i did cry over this, what was hima's reaction of yeontan's passing I honestly love yeontan so much and the bond he had with tae was literally so cute, I hope tae's coping well it's not easy to lose a beloved pet

How does mingi's relationship smell like, I really hope this makes sense or else I'd sound stupid

Now after mingri went public are there any couple choreography that was originally with san that became with mingi?

You know when hongjoong is spitting bars and jongho be hitting his amazing highnotes? I was wondering if it's the same thing for mimi

Are there any companies that hima regularly produces for? Not signed under jusr regualr clients

Can we get some mimi and mr and mrs song interactions I love their bond they're so cute🤭😭

That's it bb have a great day/night keep yourself warm, ily💓💓💓

Also saw these and Immediately thought of hima in the ephemeral collection

Hi sweet!! I missed you too, I was wondering where you went 🥺 (I figured you had your own stuff going on). I've been extremely busy with work and exams (I had 2 so far and 3 more to go!) but I'm also working on a side project for Hima (you won't expect a certain part of this trust me hehe). I'll give you a hint because I'm so excited; It involves someone she's never been seen interacting with, all they have in common is knowing a specific someone

• Hima often brings the group's pets over to her dorm when she has some rest days and basically helped raise Yeontan & Bam so when Taehyung first delivered her the news (in person) it didn't register in her mind. Yeontan had severe health issues so she figured it was going to happen, but it didn't make it easier on her. Since the grief from the accident quite literally destroyed her (as she didn't know how to deal with it) she's trying to see the bright side of it; even though he had health problems he still stayed alive for 7 years and brought light into their lives. She did put all the pictures with him in a separate locked folder for now to help with the grieving process

We literally watched Yeontan and Taehyung grow alongside each other, he was even the first dog idol ever! Hopefully he's getting the time and space he needs to grieve on his own terms

• Their relationship smells like an early spring morning after light rain fell during the night, no humidity, low heat, with the slightest warm breeze. There's hints of freshly bloomed flowers and small notes of cotton perfume

• They didn't make any changes to the pre-existing choreographies or units since some things are rooted in lore (i.e. nyang-teez partner work), but they've been creating more interactions between the couple! (So the next comebacks will have a lot more MinAri choreography hehe)

• It is! At times she's harmonizing with Jongho but there's also many instances where she hits high notes while Mingi is rapping (due to the contrast in their voices). There was only one song where she did the background vocals completely by herself (Halazia) while performing

• Most artists who she produces for come to her on their own (since they're mainly soloists) but the few companies who can be considered regular clients are H1GHR MUSIC, KOZ Entertainment and HYBE Corporation. Her current contracts are with KQ ENTERTAINMENT, RCA Records and Taemin (not BPM Ent.)

• I'll try to write some when I get the time! I'll give you a little now though hehe; When they visited his parents on their time off, the two were bickering in the kitchen about the best way to cook fish - which the mom heard once she came back with groceries - and she immediately defended her future daughter in law. She scolded her son about listening to the woman of the house and when he complained to his dad, he simply shrugged and praised the young woman's cooking, saying (jokingly) that he would adopt her to be his own daughter if Mingi wasn't dating her

• These designs are so pretty! They would fit right into the collection too. I kind of imagined the clothes to be really flowy to replicate the way a butterfly flaps its wings but the jewelry to be really fragile looking (kind of like glass) to represent the Ephemeral nature of them. That top is so beautiful though wow-

I hope you're taking good care of yourself and get some rest between your exams 😘 Don't overwork yourself and remember to take breaks! As usual thank you so much for your questions Mina, love you!!! 🩷🩷

[celestie0]

Elliee hii♥️

Reading IHM, i couldn't help but have these three questions:

- Why didn't Gojo and reader have a conversation about what lie they're going to say when people ask about them? Like, before meeting his parents for example. They had time to prepare, so why not?

- When Gojo and reader went to see her mom in the ?hospital? (i forgot what it is called) and she asked Gojo if he would take care of reader, did he answer yes because he actually had in mind to help reader nevertheless or he was just lying?

- That time when reader was in the roof ready to smoke and he stopped her, he almost suggest to her that she relieves her stress with sex instead right? Did he had in mind that they could have sex together or that reader just fucks somebody?

-🪄

hiii love sure i can answer these haha

1. that’s a great question! i think for ihm reader, it probably slipped her mind because she’s busy thinking of a whole lot of other things, and for ihm gojo he just kinda has a more laid back personality (plus he’s less freaked out about the possibility of the whole marriage being found out as a fraud compared to ihm reader) so they both ended up kinda winging it. i also like to think they both fell into domesticity kinda naturally since they bicker like an old married couple anyways, but they forgot about the more granular stuff people might ask about, hence leading to the awkward moments. there will definitely be more of that down the road since they don’t seem to get on the same page ab all the lies for a while LOL

2. oh yes, i mean technically i suppose this is a bit of a spoiler, but he absolutely meant that he would take care of her. i guess in that moment, it’s this scene where the usually laid back rather carefree n unserious ihm gojo makes a somewhat earnest promise, and it kinda catches reader off guard. i do think that ihm gojo teases her a lot but i think he cares about her a lot too, and wouldn’t ever hesitate to help her if she ever asked (i don’t think he’d hesitate to help anyone if they asked for it, he’s that kind of character). i guess it’s indicative in some cases so far in the series, but yes absolutely we will get to a point where he basically becomes her only lifeline in a very cruel n exhausting world hahaha. but no, he definitely wasn’t lying in that moment. and i think reader herself caught on to how serious he was being when he made that promise, hence why she had such a strong reaction to it

3. LOL i’m sure he meant that they could have sex together. i guess ihm gojo has hinted in many ways so far that he’s pretty attracted to her (i.e. the whole “consummate the marriage” scene and the scene where he helps her zip up her dress and now the scene in the kitchen where he calls her hot etc etc idk i could probs think of more but i can’t rn) so i think he said that just to tease her about the whole fake marriage thing like “ehhh since we’re in this situation and you seem kinda stressed, we might as well fuck?” and she’s just like 😐 HAHAH but no i don’t think he was suggesting that she go fuck someone else lol

hope this answers bb <3 much love! and thanks for reading :)

[dearhargrove]

Reassurance

summary You comfort Evan after he has to deal with his parents over the course of four days.

word count 730

tags fluff, just someone being there for my bb buck, short and sweet

a/n So basically I was watching the Buck Begins episode and died every minute where his parents neglected him and generally every second of that episode :( so expect some more Buck fics to come (Eddie too tho !!)

masterlist

You didn't know but you were probably the sole reason Buck wasn't completely breaking down every day he wakes up and has to deal with the two people that call themselves his parents.

After the first dinner he had felt bad, but he'd felt like he usually does with them. Alone, unwanted and never enough. That day he'd come home to you, quiet and dull.

You hadn't made him talk about it when he didn't start explaining himself, instead you simply wrapped your arms around him and held him close. That's when he'd felt loved. That night he waited until you had fallen asleep before letting himself cry.

What did he expect? For some reason he had hoped they'd changed. Or at least that they would be proud of him. After all, he'd saved a lot of people and does so every day. Instead he is reminded that they hadn't bothered to check on him when he almost died twice - first by being crushed and second because of the blood clots - and then laid in the hospital.

Those were the people supposed to love him no matter what and all he got was constant criticism.

That night you had woken up not long after him because of his missing warmth. With a worried expression you'd found him and once again, held him close. He had melted into your arms, tears starting to fall again as he clutched you close as if scared to lose you.

After reassurance you would gladly give any day you had gone back to bed, your hand on his cheek and caressing his birthmark.

Today you hadn't even known Buck would see them or be confronted by their doings. The last time you'd heard about them was when he explained that he had a brother. That he was only conceived to be a match for a bone marrow transplant.

That night had been harder than the one before. You're quite sure no matter how much you tried to show him that he wasn't just a failed way to save someone you don't think it got completely through to him. And you didn't blame him; you couldn't imagine living with something like that weighing you down.

You're in his kitchen trying one of Bobby's recipes when the door opens and Buck comes in. You could read him like a book; there wasn't a moment you weren't able to tell what he was feeling. But now? You genuinely didn't know.

He was frowning but there's a smile resting on his face and his eyes are red.

“Buck?”

He looks up, seeing you there in his sweater with a knife in your hand as you chop vegetables for a recipe from Bobby he loved, and he breaks. But instead of simply crying he chuckles, too.

“Buck, what's going on?” Your voice is worried and he just shakes his head as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his forehead to yours. You put the knife down and reach up to cup his face and your index finger soothes over his birthmark, something you'd made a habit over the year of being with him.

“I think they're finally accepting me for.. me.” He only says and you sigh but nod. He notices your slight apprehension and quickly adds on, “But I don't want them to. I don't need their acceptance. They don't decide how much I'm worth.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ in surprise but you laugh breathlessly and nod, “Exactly. You're saving lives on the daily, you don't need anyone to tell you how good you are. Not your parents, not your friends, not me.”

He nods along until the last part where he cocks his head and looks at you with his signature half smirk. “I do need you to tell me how good I am, actually.” That makes you smile as well and you sigh, “That's not what I meant and you know it.”

He just shrugs and unlike when he first came in you can see pure happiness and love on his face.

“God, I love you so much, Evan Buckley.”

He grins and surges forward to kiss you passionately, his hands gripping your hips as if you'd slip through his fingers any moment.

[bonefall]

Favorite rewritten scene from TPB? Any scenes you think would fuck if they were animated? Dont worry why im asking its not important <3

Hmmmm....

Well, BB!TPB is probably the least changed arc to begin with! Better Bones is a project that is basically trying to deliver on the themes I liked in the first 5 books; a flawed society is on the verge of birthing a great monster, a reckoning generations in the making, which can only be saved by the very outcasts their culture seeks to destroy.

So I'm not adding too much to it which isn't just building up the culture some more, adding personality to some background characters (especially mollies), or shoring up cats in ShadowClan.

I've got an old post floating around somewhere about my goals and a basic summary for each book, but here's a MASSIVE ramble about things I plan to add

The three MAJOR cool scenes in here though?

Rusty's Collar

Deerfoot's Sabotauge

Scourge's Collar

Into the Wild: Opening stuff, ThunderClan expansions, Rusty's Collar

For one, DAPPLETAIL has a much bigger role as Firepaw's first teacher. Rusty speaks Townmew; he needs to learn Clanmew.

So I might make the meeting with Graypaw earlier, or just have a bit more of a transitional period where he's "living with a paw in both worlds" before he gets named Firepaw

He also is able to see and take part in some of the Expanded Roles, while still learning Clanmew.

Frostfur is Head of Kitchen Patrol, pregnant, and overworked. Rusty likes her though, he can't always tell what she's saying but he learns she calls him the "Intense Gingerthing (affectionate)" and she's got cool scars

Tigerclaw might be Head of Hunting, or his cousin Willowpelt. Undecided yet; Willowpelt will be taking over after he becomes deputy though.

I forgor who is Construction Head at the moment, probably Mousefur. In any case it's a molly, One-eye has been retired for a long while.

Dappletail is the Educator, naturally, and she hangs out with Ravenpaw and her son Graypaw. Ravenpaw has a habit of telling tall tales.

The adult he's closest to though? Spottedleaf, the Cleric, like a big sister.

IMPORTANT: Rusty's time as a not-apprentice comes to a hard end with his battle against Longtail. Probably because he now understands enough Clanmew to know he's talking shit.

This time though, we're setting up some foreshadowing lads

Unlike other depictions of the collar removal where it's framed like the triumphant moment he enters the Clans, with a beam of sunlight revealing to Bluestar that he is the cat of great prophecy, his collar being snapped off comes with trembling fury and anxiety

He was terrified and angry in that moment! He's been bullied by Longtail, it just came to physical blows, and he was being choked by his collar digging into his throat so he couldn't breathe. When it suddenly SNAPS, he's hacking and coughing, but the whole Clan is cheering at the spectacle, it's like...

He's being told he's just proved himself. The joy of finally getting what he's really wanted, of landing a mark on his bully and being CELEBRATED for it, it starts to wash away the fear and fury.

It's sudden, like whiplash. He's trembling, he's growling, he's smiling. His stomach is rolling and he doesn't know which emotion is turning it.

Then, his collar is buried. He only sees it out of the corner of his eye, Dappletail (someone he likes) digging a little hole and dropping it in. Like getting rid of something dirty. He can't identify the emotion that prickles his heart in that moment, and to his dying day he never learns the word for it.

But it's going to be the same thing he feels, much much later, after the roar of the BloodClan battle has gone quiet and he's staring at the collar he ripped off Scourge. He spared the leader's life and caused the group to retreat... but, looking at that collar, so lovingly studded with trophies not unlike the ivory Clan cats take from boar hunts...

He realizes that it's meaningful. To Scourge. He can't go far enough to admit that his own collar meant something to him... but...

it would be wrong to just discard this. This emotion drives him to eventually approach Scourge and BloodClan again, in the Epilogue, returning the collar as a gift of goodwill and re-opening discussion about Tigerstar's Impossible Deal. These talks open up a new era of peace and trading between Chelford and the White Hart, until TNP brings it to a tragic end.

But anyway!

Ally Expansions + Deerfoot's Sabotage

In an effort to establish that the Clans have unique subcultures, and that the cats within them are unique individuals, BB!TPB needs more positive supporting cast in more than just WindClan.

GATHERINGS NOW HAVE AFTERGATHERINGS. This is like a discreet afterparty, which adult warriors can choose to attend by simply staying behind when their leadership returns home.

Fireheart regularly attends them until the moment he becomes leader.

A few of his friends in other Clans are Aftergathering regulars. Onewhisker, Mosspelt, Wetfoot.

Some others are just occasional visitors. Mistyfoot is brought along by her sis-in-law, Mosspelt, once or twice. Morningflower comes to do some trades.

(at his FIRST aftergathering he gets to meet Carpwhisker and Cinderfur. These two are noted to stop coming when the political tides harden.)

Because this is the Thistle Era, the Aftergathering is much smaller than it will be in a few generations.

They're also still careful to not leak too much information outside of their own Clans, and the ShadowClan cats are even particularly excited at Fireheart's first Aftergathering because it was difficult to regularly attend these while Brokenstar was leader.

DEERFOOT is a MUCH expanded character. Son of Lizardstripe, brother of Runningnose and Tangleburr, Deerfoot is involved in opposing both Brokenstar, and later NIGHTSTAR when he feels he's going against what Deerfoot fought so hard for.

And, most famously and most fatally, he's the head of the TigerClan Rebels.

Much as I like Ravenpaw... he's not getting his cameo at Stonefur's execution. No, I'm not going to be having the HalfClan cats rescued by Graystripe's bad feeling and also Ravenpaw is there. Freeing the prisoners was an action that came from WITHIN TigerClan.

Deerfoot is going to be beseeching Firestar for it. I haven't figured out EXACTLY how yet, but I'm thinking that it's after Darkstripe was exiled (suddenly, Tigerstar no longer has a mole in ThunderClan) and he's able to ask for Firestar's help openly and honestly, and tell him how many cats will need refuge if the plan is successful.

Being leader now, and not JUST a deputy, Firestar has to consider the way it might drag his Clan into conflict with a huge opponent... which Deerfoot assures won't happen, because his forces have a process. Using ochre and onion, they obscure themselves completely. Not a single one's been caught-- besides the ones who were picked up for the "crime" of being HalfClan.

Deerfoot is going to be killed for what he does here, saving so many lives. So he won't pay for the little trick he's going to pull.

While applying Firestar's ochre and onion, just before entering the camp to rescue the HalfClan cats (and finding they've started an execution early-- with Stonefur), Deerfoot draws back to look at his handiwork. Not a single fleck of his bright, unmistakable orange fur is peaking through his disguise.

So he clicks his tongue, "I've missed a spot." With a rub of his paw, the ochre around the ThunderClan leader's eyes is smudged. Just enough that anyone locking with those green eyes would see the fire poking out from beneath.

Later, when Firestar learns of this after Deerfoot's death... he chuckles with equal parts bitterness and admiration. Most of Deerfoot's Rebels had to go right back to living in TigerClan, and knowing Firestar was leading the battle patrol would take suspicion off them... but, knowing his old, lost ally... a bigger part of it was that Deerfoot was hoping that information would reach Tigerstar and BURN into him.

Compassionate and spiteful to the last, that Deerfoot.

Darkest Hour: BloodClan and Scourge's Collar

I think if I was going to rename the individual books, I'd call the last book of BB!TPB "The Moment of Truth."

BloodClan is keeping the way that it's not important until the last book. Aside from an offhanded mention here and there and a run-in with some peons that replace the rats that attack Bluestar, they're not relevant until the moment they're introduced.

I do want to keep how SURPRISING it was to see them suddenly roll up, keep that feeling that they're brutal, unsettling, foreign. When Tigerstar loses his shit on Scourge for not following his order and attempts to kill him, I want to keep how cold, sudden, and BRUTAL that ending was.

But... when Scourge FIRST appears on screen, he looks much different from the Iceheart he will eventually become. He begins to look less "monstrous" and more like a PERSON as Firestar realizes that they're not so different.

Scourge has no pupils at first. His eyes are solid, icy blue.

He also has no mouth when he isn't about to bite, no lip synch when he talks. Like he's just existing ominously onscreen, wind ruffling his spiky, ungroomed fur.

Before the killing of Tigerstar, it's noted that Scourge's speech is odd, and hard to understand. But, you can sort of make out his intent if you listen carefully.

Firestar recognizes that he is speaking Townmew, his own first language.

Tigerstar doesn't really respect him enough to listen, until he barks an order and Scourge tells him, "...My cats move when I command them, and not before."

Like canon, Firestar steps forward to speak with Scourge. Unlike canon, he very intentionally begins speaking Townmew.

ALSO like canon, when Firestar explains Tigerstar's crimes, that he will never honor any bargains he has made, and thus that they can't be trusted, he rolls that Nat20 and Scourge tells him that there will be no battle today as he thinks about this new information.

And, of course, Tigerstar lost his marbles about this. And also his organs

And Scourge is SEETHING. That's his LAST straw. He made a deal and he is NOT being given what he is owed, he tried to gracefully walk away only for Tigerstar to disrespect him for the last time, and he's SICK. AND. TIRED. Of backstabbing, DISHONORABLE CLAN CATS.

And YET. He remains cool. And he tells Firestar directly, "In light of this, I have changed my mind. We will be taking what we are owed. You have three days to leave, or it will come to combat."

Another big change from canon is that no Clan needs to be convinced to fight. It's a battle culture. They were ALWAYS going to win, or die in glorious combat. Running away is not an option in this era-- they believe their eternal reward is up in StarClan.

But Firestar CAN unite them, bring them together to discuss battle plans. And in this first day...

TigerClan is dismantled. Though Leopardstar tries to cling to her newfound leadership of TigerClan; both Shadow and River are clearly tense and demoralized. Anxious and snappish warriors are mulling about the camp.

and STILL, Firestar is dealing with a bunch of cats who are openly disrespecting him.

Even when he reminds them, "YOU brought him to the Forest! Tigerstar's deal was HALF our land and I could pull LionClan out at any time! I'm trying to HELP YOU"

Darkstripe in particular is still here with his little xenophobic jabs. And he is Xenophobic Jabbering.

In spite of the guilt Leopardstar feels, and the resentment that Blackfoot is starting to feel for Tigerstar and the position he's being thrust into, they're still DIFFICULT, not giving Firestar clear answers about if they're going to come talk battle strategies or not.

Firestar can't believe this.

They're really gonna do this. Say that TigerClan can take care of its own problems.

They're just gonna try and hold onto their scraps of pride and charge into battle, NO plan, because they think they're above him.

After ALL OF THIS, EVERYTHING thats happened, the times they've fought and he's won, becoming deputy, even earning the authority of a leader...

They're STILL not taking him seriously.

This prompts Firestar to end up losing it, the "I saw what you did to Stonefur" speech to Blackstar is moved here, addressed to BOTH of them.

But this time, there's even MORE victims. He lists ALL of them, plus the refugees still in his camp.

And they're gonna kill even MORE cats? What? To be the smuggest corpses in the GROUND?

OR MAYBE THE HAPPIEST LITTLE SKULLS ON THEIR STUPID HILL.

It SHUTS them up.

Leopardstar, in particular, clearly haunted by this... her own father, Mudfur, is one of those refugees. And she is staring intently at some of the bones on the hill.

Unfortunately, her remorse will not stick. Distance will make Blackstar more ashamed, but Leopardstar begins to look back with nostalgia.

But FOR NOW? It MATTERS.

Darkstripe comes in with another little comment, and she snaps at him.

Then she turns back on the Bonehill, and says the, "This belongs to a darker time" line.

Firestar also ends up visiting with Barley Sr, Jr, and Ravenpaw. Chatting about reasons why Ravenpaw still doesn't want to come back, even though Tigerstar is gone.

And about BloodClan, as Barley Senior comes from there. Bone is his mother (though due to some timeline things I'm considering her being his sister; and then Hoot and Jumper are littermates OR cousins of Junior.)

Ends up explaining a bit about the history, how it was formed because of Oakstar, the context of the descendant of Oakstar turning on Scourge like that

Plus why Barley Sr left. His time as a solver, the death of Violet Sr, the way BloodClan demands tribute to keep its cats fed.

And while BloodClan has issues... Firestar is realizing... so do the Clans.

Violence, blood feuds, war... xenophobia. He's still seething over that exchange from earlier.

Firestar's anxious over the big fight, and the people he knows he will lose. GOOD people. The battle won't discern the crackerjacks from the jackasses; people he loves will die. He HAS to win. And yet, his feelings towards Scourge feel frustratingly conflicted.

On the second day...

Finally he's getting somewhere with the other four Clans. Everyone's preparing properly, learning how to fight TOGETHER and not just as four separate entities.

But in ShadowClan, he catches POISONS. Runningnose and Blackfoot are planning to go into battle using the same tactics they used against WindClan-- things that won't kill right away, but will cause inevitable infection and kill slowly, and painfully.

And they're showing OTHERS about it, too.

And this UPSETS Firestar

But, AGAIN, he's able to talk to them. They have a point-- if BloodClan is going to use those claw-weapons, they ALSO have an unfair advantage.

Firestar, about to invent Rules of Engagement: "If they weren't going to use them though?"

That's how Firestar ended up in a british back alley. Meeting with BloodClan.

Scourge is cold and polite, as always, makes a comment about him being early.

Firestar tells him about the poisons, how he's seen them be used before, and how they will kill slowly,

Scourge is torn... at first, thinking it might be a lie, but then the shock of what might happen sets in. He asks, "and why would you warn us about this?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. We're fighting for our home and you're fighting for your promise; It should be a fair fight."

"which means you're reigning them in, then?"

Nods, "If you use the claw extenders, they're going to use an unfair advantage of their own"

As they dig deeper into the conversation, Scourge loses his patience.

"Enough. I've heard enough lies from Clan cats, forest fool. You untrustworthy lot NEVER uphold your end of the bargain, you come here to weaken us but we will not be tricked by a dishonorable foe ever again."

It's starting to hit Firestar now. Scourge... is kinda right.

He's RIGHT to be so distrustful of Clan cats. To think they're dishonorable. He's seen them all himself; liars, hypocrites, cowards, all of them allowing EVIL things to be done to innocent cats.

The pause seems to last days, but it's clear to Scourge he's thinking deeply about what he said.

When Firestar looks up he tells him, "I understand. But I am honorable."

Scourge laughs at that. The whole alley does.

But he stands firm. He will uphold HIS end. "And when you come tomorrow, you will see that I've held my people to it."

"Then you're a greater fool than I thought, weakening yourself."

"Tigerstar believed that honor made us weak," he says with defiance, "and you killed him. I buried him. Now he is dead; don't choose to keep his memory alive."

AND ON THE THIRD AND LAST DAY

When they all come to face off at Fourtrees, it is seen, most of BloodClan is not wearing their extenders.

And most of the Clan cats do not have deathberry-red claws.

There are just some. On both sides.

Scourge is not one of them. His claws are his own

Fire and Scourge step foward in the center, their armies behind them.

Scourge quietly points out the irony in a hushed tone, for what he is about to say could have offended either army;

"Two fools, alike in their dignity. Perhaps in another time we would have been Brothers-in-Honor, you and I."

Brother-in-Honor = Townmew term for someone who unites you through a shared, noble cause.

But Firestar is done. He had to say goodbye to many of his cats this morning, he doesn't know who will live and who will die. The Warriors stand behind him, proud and noble, but terrified to their core. He knows this.

This is their HOME. And he is the holy leader of ThunderClan, bearing the fragment of a star within him.

He's lost his patience, and his sympathy. When he responds, it's loud enough for both armies to hear. (Note: Ever so slightly performative)

"Last chance, Scourge! One step further, and you'll meet the full might of the Warrior Clans."

"Two fools," the little cat laments, "One far more foolish than the other!"

He screeches for BloodClan to attack, and like canon, Firestar loses track of Scourge in the torrent of angry cats

Battle otherwise goes very similar to canon. Out of left field, Darkstripe turns on Firestar with deathberry-red claws, furious and embarassed that he took Tigerstar away and prevented them all from fighting with "every advantage"

Graystripe. One-Man Firestar Defense Squad, body checks him and kills him, trembling in disbelief and immediate regret over his brother's body

Whitestorm loses his fight with Bone and falls, bleeding, to the ground

As he dies, he tells Firestar to let go of his grudges. He was wronged, he was hurt, but please don't let that stop him from making the right choice. Longtail should be deputy.

Firestar announces Longtail is his deputy right there.

The apprentices dogpile Bone in revenge, though I also wouldn't mind changing it. In any case, Bone's dead before Willowpelt can even realize her mate is gone

When he finally sees Scourge again, they grapple ferociously until the little cat breaks loose

Trying to avoid the grallocking move that ended Tigerstar in a blow and not knowing Scourge can't do that without his claw extenders, he pulls back and leaves himself wide open for a vicious transverse slash

He's split open from neck to arm, he can feel himself bleeding out

Scourge looks at him with pity but says nothing, flicking his claws like he's wicking the blood from a sword.

Game_Over.png

Firestar's vision fades into flashing stars and bursts into the silver-and-blue lights of StarClan

He sees the faces of everyone who he's lost, everyone he couldn't save. Spottedleaf who died in a raid. Stonefur whose execution came too soon. Pikepaw who refused to take refuge with his mother. That old bastard Deerfoot. Whitestorm whose blood is replaced with fresh stars.

Yellowfang comes forward, threading constellations like stitches through his gash, snipping at him to stop wriggling like a worm. Spottedleaf is also helping in a way he doesn't understand, licking his fur the wrong way and returning his lost blood like a Mi returns warmth to a cold kitten.

He smiles, filled with the wonderful sensation of a Sharing of Stars, until it hits him again that he needs to go back

Hmm.. maybe ill have it so Whitestorm had no last words and he gives them here. "Don't let the grudges of the past ruin the future. Make the choices you know are right."

Bring the theme together; he was talking about Longtail, but Firestar interprets it differently.

And when he wakes up in his body, gash aching but skillfully closed by the best healers he ever knew, he feels like they filled his veins with a lion's blood.

He grins, a mixture of humor and righteous fury. He didn't know Scourge's tricks, but he doesn't know HIS either.

Scourge has his back turned, focused on Onewhisker who's cowering in front of him. Firestar bowls into him, catching him off guard

"You! You died! I killed you!"

"I played dead."

With a second bolt of strength, Scourge tries to turn it around and they tumble, hissing and spitting, but the little cat doesn't get a second chance

He's pinned like prey, one paw holding his head and the other pulling down his shoulder, growling like an animal with its neck exposed for a brutal killing bite

Firestar lunges down and Scourge screeches, a horrible crack of teeth on bone quiets the battlefield

And then a SNAP

The sun glimmers on the bloodstained collar's fangs, one of the teeth cracked by Firestar's jaws, as he throws it behind him

Scourge's face is truly apparent to Firestar for the first time, his icy eyes wide with astonishment

Firestar recites the beautiful words that had once been made hollow by hypocrisy, "A true warrior does NOT need kill to win their battles," but he presses his paw into Scourge's pulse as a warning, "DO they?!"

He lifts his paw, and Scourge calls for BloodClan to retreat

Though the warriors are shocked at first, they saw his collar ripped off and his black fur soaked in his own blood, and understood they were losing

Just as united as any Forest Four following the command of a leader, each warrior disentangled as quickly as possible and streamed out behind their bolting leader

Some warriors ran after them to chase them out, and came back a few minutes later

And just like that, it was over. They were gone.

But, that collar is laying there, in the light of the setting sun. The inner fabric is purple, covered in a layer of red and brown from a mix of fresh and dry blood. Various teeth poke through, which he now realizes are from various predators.

Firestar gazes at it and feels Rusty's heart beating. He has that strange, indescribable feeling again.

It's... just like Clan cat hunting trophies, yes. It's a valuable, meaningful object to Scourge. It's a spoil of war made of spoils of war. That's why it's stirring his chest, surely. There's something... deeper to this item. It shouldn't be discarded; this item needs to be kept safe.

Or, perhaps, returned.

From there, the epilogue is gravy. When Firestar arrives in the alley again, this time flanked by several cats, Scourge is still recovering from his many injuries. He feels like he's been seeing Firestar's face too often-- and then the collar is gently placed on the ground.

Just like Firestar expected, there's an energy that washes over the gathered cats, and even the unreadable Scourge now seems awestruck by the gesture. The collar was something greater than just a collar; though Firestar couldn't remember if he had ever been told what a BloodClan collar represented.

Speaking, again, in Townmew, he explains that Tigerstar made Scourge an Impossible Deal, which the treacherous tyrant never meant to honor in the first place. But he is dead. BloodClan cannot have the territory and the Clan cats have won it fairly-- but what CAN we do for you? What were you seeking?

The answer was so simple that it was almost sickening. That they'd come to blows, and cats had died, over something that could have been worked out so easily. BloodClan had plenty of food from the humans' excess and hunting in the wilderness was not a skill they ever had anyway. What they wanted was materials.

Wood. Flowers and herbs. A chance to walk along the hiking trail and see the giant trees. Maybe the occasional piece of prey they didn't have access to in the town, like squirrels and frogs.

So, for a while. There was peace in the Forest, bringing the Tiger Era to a definitive close and beginning the fruitful, but short-lived Fire Era.

So! Them's the major changes. Take your pick of the scene you think is coolest, personally I've got a thing for Firestar ripping off Scourge's collar.

[chatty-cat-cafe]

Slumber Party

Skateboard and Boombox were cleaning up their shared apartment in Playground. Excitement was in the air, both demons were happily waiting for their third partner, Slingshot, to arrive from Thieves’ Den. The three of them had planned to have a big old sleepover after a massive winning streak the three had from previous phights. Skate looked up at the clock with a squint, fluffy goldie tail wagging once he realized what time it was. “Yo Boom! Sling’s gonna be here soon!” He barked out happily, tail wagging even faster as the raccoon demon looked up with a smile. “Hell yeah! I should go get some tunes prepared… Or should we wait for Sling to show up first?” “I think Slingy will be chill with anything, y’know? Slingy’s a pretty laid back guy and all that.” “Yeaaaaah… You’re right. Might pop in some old school hip hop tunes tho. I remember Sling tellin’ me he liked that!” “Oh! Oh! Could you put some rap songs into this super ultra sleepover mix?” “I am NOT calling it that, Skate…” “Oh c’mon! It’s such a good title!” The eyes of Boom’s visor made an eye roll motion as he plopped himself down onto the couch, pulling out his gear and starting to sort through the various tapes while humming to himself. Skate stretched, yawning before heading off to the kitchen. If this was a sleepover then they needed snacks! And lots of them! He opened up cabinets and grabbed out various little bags of snack foods. Chips, pretzels, and some sort of candy treats! His tail wagged happily, gathering up his findings into his arms and heading back into the living room. Boom looked up when all of the food was dropped down onto the little coffee table they had, a soft chuckle escaping his lips before going back to what he was doing. Boom knows how much of a foodie the red demon was and found it kind of cute. Skate was basically Sling’s little “taste tester” when it comes to the stuff he wants to sell in the cafe as well. And speaking of Slingshot… A couple gentle knocks on the front door signaled the arrival of the blue feline demon. Skate’s tail perked up, wagging like mad as he ran over to the door and threw it open, a wide stupid smile spread across his face. “Slingy!” The blue demon smiled and purred as the red demon hugged onto him tightly, swiftly pulling him into the apartment and closing the door behind him. Boom was still chilling on the couch, finishing up the sleepover mixtape as the other two demons were giving their greetings and whatnot. “Hey Skatey, hey BB! Sorry it took me so long… Shuri was being a pain in the ass! I had to help Vine settle him down after he was throwing some little tantrum.” The green demon chuckles slightly, shaking his head before speaking up. “When he is not?”. All three of them burst out into a fit of giggles before all settling down on the couch, Boom being squished between his two boyfriends. Boom slipped the tape into his gear, turning it on and turning the volume down a little. He reached over Skate, dropping the gear onto the little side table before settling back down between the other two demons. Skate and Boom were already dressed down in their pjs. Skate was in a red tank top and some heart-patterned boxers, one that Boom had made some little joke about. Boom was in some cute green and white striped pjs with little slippers. Sling noticed this and got up, stretching a little before heading off to the bathroom to change into his own.

Skate grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the TV, a little hum escaping his lips as he pulled up one of the many movie apps him and Boom had for some reason. The canine demon clicked his tongue and picked out a random movie. It looked like some sort of comedy? Maybe? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked interesting so why not? Sling came back out wearing a blue t-shirt and some cozy sleeping pants that had little white paws patterned across them. He plopped down onto the couch, tossing his arms around Boom and pulling him close. Skate’s tail wagged and he snuggled up close, the two effectively squishing the green demon between them as the movie started up. Boom wiggled a little, having to awkwardly bend his arm behind him to grab the big ol’ blanket and pull it over the three of them, making sure they were snug as little bugs in a big ol’ rug! Movie after movie was watched, snack after snack was devoured and drinks were consumed in plenty. Eventually the evening sky gave way to the gentle embrace of night. Empty bowls, discarded soda cans and glasses littered the coffee table as the three demons were passed out, all cuddled up nice and close to each other. The eyes of Boom’s visor had shifted into three little z’s, Sling was curled up slightly with his tail draped over his lap, head resting against the smaller green demon. Skate was snoring up a storm, head tilted forward slightly as he also leaned on Boom in his sleep, a line of drool dripping down from the corner of his mouth. The soft humming of late-night drivers could be heard from outside of the apartment, stars twinkling above and the moon shining down on the streets of Playground. Even if the three didn’t do much during their sleepover, they were able to enjoy each other’s company and rest peacefully within each other’s embrace.

[snapdragoned]

wcif the cute kitchen tops, cooker, mini fridge, microwave and clutter from junes tiny kitchen please? ty

hey! sure, let's see what i can find:

These are the Maxis ones that came with University!

Detached Stove Top by CrispsandKerosene

The mini-fridge from the 4t2 Smeglish Set by Ravasheen, converted by Thimblesims (not pictured in the preview)

Another maxis one! Not sure which EP/SP it came with.

Paper towels from the 3t2 Bayside Set by Veranka

The Kings Cookware from this 4t2 Cottage Living set by Thimblesims

Dish stack from the Vintage Crockery set by leaf-motif, converted by moocha-muses

Cutting boards from the Vintage Crockery set again!

Small saucepan from the Kitchen Basic Clutter set (my beloved!)

I could've sworn I'd screencapped everything in this image, but apparently not this one. I'll try to figure it out the next time I open my game, sorry!

Large Pasta Jars from the New Vintage Kitchen Set by Veranka.

Loaf of Bread by Crackfox, converted by pixelry. Looks like the original tumblr is deactivated, so here's a link to a reblog.

Beans from elvisgrace's conversion of faesims4's makin magic set.

Three Bowls from the Vintage Crockery set from #7 & 8.

BBs Superbowling Kitchen Bowl from the Kitchen Basic Clutter set. It looks like this is one of Anna's colors, but I couldn't find the recolors anywhere. I assume we all have this in a billion recolors anyway. Sorry about that!

Baking Mix from elvisgrace's makin' magic conversion from #13.

Small Pasta Jars from the New Vintage Kitchen Set by Veranka.

Bakery Flour Sack from the 3t2 Deliciously Indulgent Bakery Set by Veranka.

I numbered this separately but I'm pretty sure this is actually the dish stack from #7 again.

whew! that was a doozy. let me know if I missed anything 😸