#do not message me talking about how i need permission to convert shit for a game you dont own

[sweetenernsims]

CC creators not wanting conversions

Okay so I'm hearing this is going on lately and I just want to say something about it cause it's ridiculous bullshit. When the sims 4 first came out and there was no cc for it, you know what the first thing sims 4 creators did? They converted cc from the sims 3 over to the sims 4 and a lot of it was Newseasims hairs! Did most of you ask Newseasims if you could convert the hairs over to sims 4 or did you just do it anyway? I bet you just did it anyway. The point is converting items from sims 3, 2, or 4 takes nothing from you, it's still available for whatever game it was created for it and it' still within the sims. This is in the EA Policy, we don't have to ask you for permission to convert, reupload, share, change, remodel etc. so sims 4 creators who keep harassing people about conversions or shared cc need to stop. Unless you own the sims, no one has to ask you permission for anything involving this game and that includes converting/sharing content.

If you want to have full rights to your content, then by all means go over to second life where you have full control over who uploads or shares. I'm 31 years damn old, DO NOT message me about cc being converted, cause your ass is going to get ignored or it's just going to make me convert more of your content out of pettiness. Most of you still don't follow the 2 to 3 week rule for release on your content, I know when half of your shit is from second life or downloaded off some 3d site and put behind paywall. So please don't even bother. You guys take this shit way to seriously and it's annoying. it's a bunch of 1s and 0s and you're freaking out cause someone converted some pants over to sims 3..get real. Anyway the one thing I will still continue to do is give credit and never place behind a paywall...that's it. That's all you're getting from me..anyway good talk. So guys keep sharing and converting if that's what you want to do, don't let people bully you over a game.

[since0202]

Chapter 29: Home

After a tearful goodbye with their mothers, Grace and Bella made their way to the ticket counter to check in for their flight. 

“Oh, Miss Swan, Miss Alo, you’ve been upgraded to first class and instead of your original flight with two layovers, we were able to accommodate you with a direct flight. Here are your updated tickets and Amy here will show you the way to the VIP Lounge to wait for your flight.” The front desk attendant gave them a warm smile and motioned to the woman beside her. 

Bella’s mouth was opening and closing like she meant to say something and Grace’s eyes went wide with excitement. 

“Nice!” she exclaimed. “Finally, the perks of having a rich boyfriend are paying off.” 

“Grace!” Bella nearly scolded as they followed the aforementioned Amy to the lounge. 

“What? Might as well benefit from your line into Richville.” 

“You sound like Jake.” Bella laughed taking a seat in the overstuffed chairs as a waiter handed them champagne. “Speaking of which,” she set her champagne down without taking a drink, unlike Grace or delightedly downed the first quarter glass in one swift chug, “Have you spoken to him?” 

Grace shook her head aggressively, “Absolutely not.” Her mind wandered back to the last text message he had sent yesterday afternoon after they had returned from lunch on the water. 

You can’t avoid me forever. 

Oh, how true that was. 

Bella rolled her eyes and Grace decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. 

“And what about you? Should we start wedding planning the minute we get home then?” 

“It was his one condition to have him turn me himself.” Bella shot back. Grace wasn’t expecting that. 

“So you’re still on this whole immortal kick then?” Grace crossed her arms after popping a piece of gum into her mouth. 

“I was never not on it. I know what I want,” Bella said determined. 

“And I want a burrito, but it’s 7 in the morning.” Grace said with a little too much venom. She was starting to sound like Sam. Bella looked away from her, annoyed. Grace decided to call a truce, she wasn’t going to convince Bella not to become a member of the undead in an airport. “Can I at least see the ring?” she said more gently. 

Bella looked over at her tentatively, thinking for a moment and then dug into her bag and pulled out an oversized ring box. Grace held her breath knowing it was going to be enormous. But she was pleasantly surprised. 

When Bella revealed the ring to her, it was big, but the old fashioned and unique oval shape set with glittering diamonds was breathtaking and fit Bella so well. 

“Holy fuck,” Grace said a little too loud. Bella snapped the case shut as they drew a look from an older man reading his newspaper a couple seats down from them. “Sorry, it’s beautiful.” 

“Thanks. I still..am a little nervous about all of this,” Bella wrung her hands above her and Grace gave her a soft smile. 

“I know. But you love him so…” she trailed off, not sure what else there was to say. 

Grace had never thought about marriage growing up. Her parents were incredibly happy loving people and she had the best model for marriage, but throughout her life, she never envisioned herself as married. Now a soft feeling turned over in her stomach where she held onto a new idea that was starting to bloom there. One that she saw blooming in Bella too. It might be nice to call someone yours forever. 

Their flight landed early that afternoon and both girls were giddy when they got off of the plane. It was their first time flying first class and they were buzzing off the high of a catered meal and sparkling cider. 

As they came out of the terminal to baggage claim, they saw Edward standing there, his face fitted with a perfectly stretched smile when he saw Bella. 

Bella actually dropped her backpack and ran toward him and into his arms. Grace picked up her bag and slung it over her free shoulder and trudged toward them. As she approached them, Edward pulled his face out from behind her hair and said: 

“I brought you a present.” 

“A present?” Grace cocked her head to the side confused as Edward took Bella’s back from Grace’s shoulder. 

Rachel Black came strolling from around the baggage claim with their suitcases. Grace’s heart dropped into her stomach. Son of a bitch. Grace inwardly cursed and sucked in a quick breath. Was this Edward’s idea of some kind of a sick joke?

“Hey!” she said, trying to sound cheerful and shoving her hands in her back pockets. Edward saw the look of disappointment cross Grace’s face and suddenly felt like he’d made a mistake. Bella looked at Grace worriedly. 

“Hey little Alo,” Rachel said, that same twinkling smile on her face. Seeing Rachel made her feel slightly sick which frustrated her even more. A dumb imprint, that Rachel wasn’t even in control of, was going to make her suddenly dislike a person she’d known almost her whole life? “I got to be honest with you, I’m not here just for me.” 

Grace was confused and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been sent to take you to see your new home,” Rachel rolled her eyes but let out a little laugh. “Well, I think the exact instructions were to take you to my brother first and then the house second, but tomato, tomato.” She shrugged and Grace found herself fighting a smile. Same old Rachel, warm, but still took no shit. 

“I hope that’s alright,” Edward said from the sidelines. “We’ll drop you off at your place.” 

Rachel nodded and Grace let out a big sigh holding her arms out at her sides in a wide shrug. 

“Why not.” 

Edward was able to drive Grace right up to her home since technically it wasn’t on the original treaty line that they had agreed to so many years ago. Tensions between the pack and the Cullens had ebbed slightly since the fight, so Sam was a little more lenient about where they could come on their land. 

Grace, however, was completely floored when they pulled up. The old, falling down house had been given a facelift in her absence. A new thatched roof adorned the top of the house and a second level had been installed. A large circular window looked out toward the cove. Where the sagging porch had been a new one was installed that wrapped around the front of sides of the home. Tools were still scattered about and it was still being installed in some areas. They had painted her front door a dark mossy green and when Grace pushed it open, she thought she might faint. 

The interior of the home was completely refinished. A small kitchen looked out over her spacious living room that Esme had expertly decorated to match her rustic, simple style. Her bedroom was on the second floor in the large loft that looked out over the cove and the back bedroom was converted into a pseudo indoor greenhouse with a desk and comfy, plush chairs. One wall was dedicated to an entire bookshelf that held an assorted collection of books. 

Grace dropped her backpack in the back room and turned to Edward who was standing in her doorway. “This is incredible, thank you so much.” she couldn’t quite catch her breath. 

“It’s the least we could do, considering everything you’ve done from my family and Bella.” Edward said softly before nodding and taking his leave. Bella gave her a hug before she left and said “Tell me how it goes with Jake” before joining Edward. 

Rachel was sitting in the new living room waiting for Grace. “Sooo, what do you think?” 

“It’s incredible,” Grace said plopping down on the soft linen sofa. “It’s too much but it’s incredible.” 

“Naaah, you deserve this.” Rachel steadied Grace with a look and she shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “I wanted to ask you….” here it comes “About the whole Paul thing.” 

Grace felt an awful pang in her stomach rise up. No, not now. 

“What about Paul?” Grace said nonchalantly and Rachel tilted her head knowingly at her. 

“Don’t act like that, I know you.” Grace gave out a huff. “Sam said you two were pretty serious...before I showed up.” Rachel looked at her fingernails now not wanting to meet Grace’s gaze. Grace looked her over carefully trying to see what she was getting at. 

“Yeah, we were together, so?” 

“Don’t say ‘so’ like that. I’m asking if you’re okay.” 

“Rach, what do you want me to say? Yes? Totally fine? Don’t think about him at all at night? Because that’s not the truth.” Grace looked over her shoulder out the open front door toward the cove. She wanted to disappear in this moment. 

“I just...I know I screwed everything up, but I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know.” Rachel looked at her now. Tears were welling up in Grace’s eyes. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket but momentarily ignored it. 

“Why are you bringing all this up again? Are you and Paul going out or something?” she looked at Rachel now with a hurt, scornful look. She didn’t want to know the answer but she also couldn’t shy away from it now that Rachel was trying to gauge her reaction. 

Rachel didn’t respond for awhile and picked at the skin on the tips of her finger. Grace watched her carefully and then nodded, “Right…” It was clear what Rachel was after now. Grace pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at her most recent text message. 

SMS Text—4:33 p.m.: Jake 

Did you make it home okay? 

Rach was supposed to bring you by an hour ago. 

I need to talk to you. 

Grace considered not responding, hightailing it out of there and swimming as far out into the ocean as her body would allow, but she didn’t want to be alone in this new pain that was becoming clear now that Rachel clearly wanted Paul. She typed a hasty reply. 

I’m home, at the new place. 

Come over.

“Grace?” Rachel said looking at her now with a sad look on her face. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. You know how much you mean to me but I...the imprint makes it hard for me to…” 

“Are you asking for my permission or something? Or my blessing?”

“No, I….” she took one look at Grace and switched topics suddenly, “What’s going on with you and my brother?” 

Oh, so she wanted to play it like this? Grace was game. She stood up and walked over to her kitchen to pull down a green glass water cup and filled it with cold water from the sink. She took a drink and then turned to look at Rachel. 

“Not the same thing that was going on with Paul if that’s what you’re asking.” Rachel winced and Grace immediately felt guilty. 

“Grace, I’m….I’m so sorry,” her voice piqued with emotion and Grace felt immediately drawn to her. “I don’t know what to do here. Help me.” her eyes were pleading but Grace couldn’t find the words to make either of them feel better at the moment. 

“You should go,” Grace said in a hard voice, Rachel’s face changed to one of disappointment, anger even, “Jake’s coming and if you don’t want to get your head bit off, then it’s best to head off now. So…” Grace trailed off refilling her water and staying away from Rachel. 

She got to her feet and nodded, walking out the front door and heading off into the forest. Grace let out a frustrated groan as she wrapped her arm protectively around her stomach where the pain was still pulsing. She definitely didn’t expect Rachel to turn up at the airport and what’s more, she was not prepared to have a conversation about her and Paul dating. Grace knew the imprint was in play but it still hurt to think of Paul moving on so quickly. As she gripped the countertop and tried to hold herself together, a familiar voice echoed across the room as Jake made his way through the open door, shirtless and in his cut off jeans. 

“Hey, you okay?” He was in front of her in an instant, his hands cupped under her cheeks and pulling her face up to look at her. Grace felt a calloused thumb move gently across her cheek and she took in a deep breath, letting her arm fall as she stood up straight. She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down off of her face in one movement. 

“Yeah, fine.” She moved past him to go sit on the porch steps, suddenly needing a dose of fresh air. Jake tensed from the ease at which she pulled away and followed her shortly after. 

He lowered himself down next to her on the front steps and watched her face for a second before looking out into the cove. “What did Rachel say?” 

“It’s bullshit, Jake,” Grace let it out, “This imprint is the cruelest thing in the world. Because no one gets a choice. Why? Why do that to us when we already have so much to deal with? I don’t….” she choked a little, trying to swallow a sob. “I hope it never happens to me. I want a choice.” 

Jake listened patiently and nodded his head, “I hear you.” 

“Just...promise me something,” she looked at him seriously now and Jacob trained his eyes on her, even with her face red and puffy, lips parted, and hair flying around her, he thought she was beautiful. He desperately wanted to raise a hand to graze her cheek or pull her into him and kiss the top of her head until he felt her breath even out. 

“Anything,” he said seriously. 

“Promise me that when it happens to you, you’ll still be the same.” Her eyes were swimming with hurt just thinking about Jake being pulled away from her in any way. But still, she pushed down that ache in hopes of keeping herself whole. 

“I promise, Grace. I won’t let you down.” His voice was soft, calm, and reassuring. The tension in her face melted right away when he looked at her like that and Jake knew that whatever she asked him, he would do. 

She leaned her body against his, resting her head on his shoulder and he let out a sigh of relief. 

“These last four days without you were not my best,” he admitted suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” she mumbled, listening intently to the crash and roll of the sea. 

“When you left, something in me stopped working. I felt….irritated. Like I was being pulled in a million different directions and I couldn’t sit still. Sam had to send me on rounds by myself a couple of nights because no one could stand to be around me and I don’t blame them.” 

“That’s weird,” Grace said distractedly. 

“Yeah….weird,” Jake said softly. Grace wrapped her arms around his bicep and scooted into him more. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Jake let out a laugh, “Always.” 

They spent the evening prepping and cooking vegetables and chicken for burritos in Grace’s kitchen. Esme, delightfully, had stocked a part of Grace’s closet with extra men’s t-shirts and jeans for the pack in case they had ever phased nearby or needed something to change into. It was incredibly thoughtful and Grace hugged the black t-shirt to her body before coming down the stairs and tossing it at Jake. He laughed and eagerly put it on, returning to his chopping of the onions while Grace watched a pan of sizzling chicken breasts. 

When she came over to supervise she gave out a short laugh. 

“No, no Jacob. Diced, we need diced onions.” 

“These are diced!” he protested. She pushed in front of him and gently took the knife from his hand to demonstrate. 

“Slice this way, and then this way,” He was standing very close behind her and was looking around her. As Grace delicately chopped the onion, Jacob raised two tentative fingers and brushed back a swath of dark black hair that had fallen in front of her face. His fingertips gently brushed the side of her neck as he stroked the hair back behind her shoulder and peered from behind her to take in her work. Grace shivered, goosebumps rising on her neck and she suddenly felt very hot and very aware of his presence. 

“Like that, okay?” she said, handing him the knife back. He gave her a mischievous smile and nodded. 

“Got it.” 

They worked easily together, each reaching around the other for things, making jokes and laughing at something the other said. They opted to eat on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket and flipping on a movie to pass the time as the sun set. Jacob didn’t ask her once about the phone call and Grace was grateful. 

Having Jake in the house made her whole body feel warm and in the back of her mind, she started dreading the time when he’d get up and leave. They talked late into the night, Grace laying her legs over Jake’s lap as she reclined on the couch. 

She shared how good it was to see her mom, how she wanted her to see this place and know that she really was okay, so that she wouldn’t worry about her future. Jacob listened dutifully, his eyes always patient, kind, and open as she opened up about her fears and her dreams. He absently moved his hand up and down her thigh, pausing only when he was telling a story about his most recent night of rounds to emphatically show how he wanted to strangle Embry for something he said. Grace laughed at this and revelled at the sensation of warmth when he placed his hand back on her thigh. As the night wore on, they each drifted off to sleep peacefully on the couch. 

Grace woke some time in the night to see Jake still there, his head leaning back against the couch and snoring softly. She gently picked her legs up off of him and strode to close her front door and turn off the lights. Then she gently leaned over him and placed a hand on his arm.

“Jacob.” she whispered and his eyes slowly opened looking around at the darkened room. “Come on.” she said running her hand down his arm and taking his hand. He yawned and stood as she guided him through the living room and up the stairs to her room. Once in her room, she let go of his hand and strode into her closet to change into some soft pajama shorts and a thin linen tank top. When she returned, Jake was taking off his shirt and folding his jean shorts, setting them on a chair in the corner of her room. 

Grace crawled into bed and Jake nestled in beside her. Easily, they meshed into one another, Grace cuddling up into his left side, arm slung over his chest and head on his shoulder. Jacob wrapped an arm down her back and rested his hand on her waist, under her shirt to feel her skin on his. The moonlight filtered in above the bed and they fell back asleep almost instantly. 

Grace didn’t know what it meant to have him here beside her just yet but she knew that she didn’t want him to leave. She had never felt so at peace before and decided as she drifted off that whatever awkwardness happened in the morning, she’d take it if it meant she could have this moment with him. She felt him lean over to kiss the top of her head before she let the sound of the waves and the rise and fall of his warm breath pull her into a deep sleep. 

[a-n-conrad]

Fighting and Flirting (Bakugo x Reader)

Chapter 23: Relief and Guilt

[Summary: After Katsuki is finally rescued, both of you are filled with alot of emotions. How will you handle all of the changes, and what will happen when you start to recognize Katsuki’s guilt.]

Masterlist

Eventually you had to let him go. Your fingers were starting to get sore, and you were sure that your tears were soaking through his t-shirt. He was obviously still wearing the clothes from the forest, and they smelled like smoke. It was making your eyes burn. Despite all of that, you still didn’t want to pull back. It was warm and safe, and he was back. And he gave damn good hugs. But you did let him go. 

“(Y/N), everything’s going to be alright. We’re safe,” he whispers. You can tell he’s trying not to talk too loud, but you can’t tell whether it’s because Deku’s around or because he’s afraid to spook you. It doesn’t really matter though, “Are you hurt?”

“From the forest or from the landing? Because yes,” You say, trying to add a bit of joking to your tone, but you really can’t. You definitely broke one of your ribs again.

“For fuck’s sake,” He sighs, “What hurts?”

“I think one of my ribs is broken,” You cringe. You breathed in a little too deeply, “We should really watch the fight though. We need to make sure that All Might makes it ok.”

- - - - -

FROM HIS PERSPECTIVE

Shit. He almost forgot about the fight that was going on. All Might was getting hurt, and that insane faceless dude actually seemed to be holding up against him. It was the first time he had really seen All Might have a hard time in a fight. 

All Might was getting hurt because he needed to be rescued. And he would’ve been hurt more if (Y/n) and Deku hadn’t rescued him. And (Y/n) was hurt, too. From rescuing him. And from what he saw, Best Jeanist was hurt pretty bad too.

Even in the forest, everyone was hurt because of him. Because he couldn’t hold his own against these villains. Tokoyami was almost kidnapped because of him. Shoji lost an arm. Ragdoll was kidnapped and hurt too.

And (Y/n). He felt the raw skin on her hands when she grabbed him. He wondered if it still hurt. And she broke a rib. And there were still bandages on her face after she dropped her illusion. He remembered how bad that burn looked in the forest. Was she going to have a scar? All because he couldn’t protect himself.

He couldn’t help the feeling of guilt twisting his stomach as he watched All Might fight, and as (Y/n) clung to him like she thought he was going to disappear. She must’ve been so worried about him. He didn’t know how to handle that feeling. He’d never been so full of guilt before. Normally he could handle himself, but he was too weak to fight off the villains this time. 

And as All Might finished the fight, his body deflating in a way that didn’t even seem natural, Bakugo felt like he was going to throw up. The villain was defeated, but as All Might turned to the camera, pointing and leaving the cryptic message of “You’re next”, Bakugo could tell that it came with a cost. 

- - - - -

You had to go to the police station afterward, to make sure that they knew that Katsuki was safe. You honestly had no idea what to do, but you knew there was something wrong. Katsuki was silent the entire time and the look on his told you that he wasn’t exactly feeling good.

When you finally got to the station, the police weren’t exactly sure how to react to you showing up. They had expected Katsuki to be rescued by a team of heroes and police, not a handful of students. They eventually got their shit together and started questioning you all. You just hoped they went easy on Katsuki. He’d been through a lot, and it wasn’t fair for them to interrogate him.

By the end of it, you were all escorted home by police. 

- - - - -

‘Suki: You made it home safe last night, right?

(Y/n): Yep! You did too, right?

‘Suki: Of course.

‘Suki: Are you alright? You were hurt last night, weren’t you?

(Y/n): I’ll be alright.

(Y/n): Don’t worry too much, ‘Suki.

‘Suki: Hey, do you mind if I come over for a bit today?

(Y/n): No problem. You come in whenever you get here.

You wondered what Katsuki needed. You weren’t complaining, though. You were still kind of worried about him. He looked so sad and distressed last night, and you had a feeling it wasn’t just because he was kidnapped. And you really wanted to make sure that he’d be alright. 

He walked in kind of timidly when he got there, which told you that there was definitely something wrong. It wasn’t like him to be quiet and cautious, so you wondered what exactly was wrong. It didn’t take you that long to figure it out when he walked over and hugged you.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

“For what?” You couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing. You rubbed his back as he clung to you, a lot like you had done the night before, “What’s wrong, ‘Suki.”

“I’m sorry I put you in so much danger. If I had just been able to protect myself-”

“There was no way, Katsuki,” You cut him off. You weren’t normally one to interrupt, but you weren’t going to sit there and listen to him blame himself, “There were so many of them, and they were so much stronger than us. It took one move to burn me, and Deku managed to take one down, but at the cost of all of his limbs. Even with you being the strongest of us, there was no way you’d be able to take all of them down. Even if you weren’t trapped in a marble. They planned to be able to beat you, so they had the upper hand.”

“But I put all fo you in danger. All might retired this morning, and you saw what happened to Best Jeanist.”

“All of us went into that on our own. Jeanist and All Might both rescue people as their job. There was no way they’d just sit back and let you be held by villains. And there was no way I could just sit back after I failed to help you once.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I had just been able to fight back against Dabi, at least a little longer, maybe you wouldn’t have been kidnapped,” you sighed. You had to be honest. You felt so guilty that Katsuki had been taken, and you wanted to do anything you could to save him. It felt like that was on you,

“No, (Y/n), you can’t blame yourself,” he whispered.

“Neither can you, then. Neither one of us could’ve done anything,” You tell him. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but you hoped that maybe he’d take it to heart at least a little when you said, “None of us blame you, Katsuki. We went in to help you because we care about you, not because you can’t handle yourself. Everyone needs help sometimes, and we weren’t about to just let you face all of those villains on your own.”

He sighed, and a little more of his weight shifted to you. You could feel his shoulders shake, and tears started to soak into your shirt, but it was almost like he was trying to keep you from hearing him cry. Sometimes you wondered if there was a reason he feared being seen as weak.

- - - - -

A few nights after that you got a letter. Well, more like your parents got a letter. UA was converting over to boarding school, in order to have more control over the safety of the students. Meaning that you had another permission slip to forge and turn in, though you figured you should probably call your parents before you signed. Or maybe a video chat would be better? Either way, you really just needed to let them know that you’d be moving into the dorms. You were sure they’d agree to it.

And they did, though they really didn’t seem all that interested. To be honest, you weren’t even sure they knew what school you went to because if they did, they’d at least ask about the villain attack. But they didn’t. They just gave you permission to sign the slip for them and then said that they needed to get back to work. You weren’t even sure if they were actually going back to work, because you swore you could hear some of their friends in the background. It really didn’t matter, though. What did matter was that your teachers had informed you that they’d be coming to visit. And to talk with your parents.

You tried to convince Shoto to help you think of a plan to get out of it, but he refused. He told you to just tell them that your parents weren’t available, but they had already given you permission. You supposed you’d have to do that since you couldn’t think of what to do before the teachers were already knocking on your door.

“Ah, young (L/n), how are you?” All Might asked when you opened the door.

“I see your bandages are off,” Aizawa mentioned. According to Shoto, he checked on all of you in the hospital before he went to his press conference the day that you rescued Katsuki.

“Yes, I got to take them off last night, finally. Come in, though. You had something you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, we needed to speak with your parents,” Aizawa noticed you cringe. You had a feeling he had already figured a few things out, “Are they here?”

“I’m sorry, Mr.Aizawa, but they’re out of the country. They have to work. I called them last night, though, and they gave me permission to live in the dorms,” you explain.

“So you have been forging their signatures, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but they know I do that. They’re gone so often that if I didn’t, there was no way I’d be able to do anything.”

“What exactly do your parents do that they’re gone so often?” All Might actually looked a bit concerned. You wondered if he was worried about you being on your own so often or if he was worried that your parents did something illegal. 

“They work on movie sets. My parents work on lighting, sound, and special effects. My mom has a light manipulation quirk, my dad has a sound manipulation quirk, and together they make illusions kind of similar to mine. Theirs are a little more simple, though. But at least they don’t have quite the same drawbacks.”

“And they just leave you on your own? Don’t they have someone who could watch you?” Aizawa seemed upset as he asked.

“To be honest, they could probably leave me with my aunt, who lives across town, but she’s never really gotten along with my parents, so they prefer not to. I can manage on my own, so it’s not too big of a deal.”

The three of you talked a little while longer. They explained the dorms a little more, and Aizawa made sure that you had actually checked with your parents. You confirmed that they agreed, and gave them your permission slip and all of the other paperwork you had filled out. Eventually, Aizawa agreed to let you come to the dorms, even though they couldn’t confirm with your parents, making a comment under his breath that it’d be better than leaving you to stay alone.

You started packing that night, so happy to be going somewhere where you wouldn’t have to triple-check that you locked the door.

- - - - -

The day you move in was a day that you were incredibly excited about. It was a while after that meeting, and your parents were actually home. You had to remind them that you’d be leaving the day before. Your heart stung a little when it seemed like they didn’t care.

As you stood with the rest of your class in front of the new dorm building, titled the Heights Alliance, you honestly start to get excited, though the excitement was cut short when Aizawa calls out to you, along with Shoto, Deku, Kirishima, Iida, and Momo. 

“I’m disappointed that you would act without your provisional hero licenses. I’m well aware that you were there to rescue Bakugo,” Shit. You forgot that Aizawa was going to get upset about that, “And I’m aware that the rest of you knew about, beside Hagakure and Jirou. If it wasn’t for All Might’s retirement, I’d expel all of you expect those two and Bakugo. Next time, I expect you to go through things in the correct way if you expect to regain my trust ever.”

There was a very awkward feeling hanging over all of you. You could feel eyes on you, but you couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. You were pretty sure that if you could, you would’ve drill holes in the dirt where you were staring. You finally felt the aura lift when you felt the electricity buzzing through the air. Finally, you were able to breathe again when your classmates started laughing at Kaminari’s post-overload antics.

Kirishima turned, apologizing to all of your classmates for causing so much trouble. He even offered to make it up to everyone with some barbeque. You were about to go with all of them when you felt a hand grab your wrist.

Katsuki was standing behind you, his head hanging a little, “Come with me for a little.”

He led you away for a moment, dragging you by your wrist, though he was being a bit more gentle than people would expect from him. Eventually, you made it to a room that you assumed was his. You knew he didn’t mean anything, but you couldn’t help but blush. He opens the door and drags you in a little.

“I’m sorry for dragging you in here, but I wanted to talk,” Katsuki explains, “Why did you rescue me? If everyone else knew that was your plan, I’m sure they tried to talk you out of it. So why do it anyway?”

“Because I care about you, Katsuki,” You sigh. You thought you had made that clear to him earlier.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, Katsuki?”

“Why the hell would you care about me?”

“Katsuki,” You could see the sadness in his eyes when he asked. He was hurt and felt guilty for putting you in danger, and he was doubting why anyone would care about him if he wasn’t the strongest person around. That’s why he feared people seeing him as weak, wasn’t it? He was always told that his worth was based on his strength, wasn’t he? “Because you’re so much more caring than you let anyone see. Because even when we were fighting at the sports festival, you made sure to walk me to the nurse’s office after. Because you cooked me dinner when you realized I didn’t have any. Because you saved me from having a panic attack after people swarmed by reporters.”

His eyes looked like they were starting to fill with tears. You had a feeling no one had said anything like that to him in a long time. You needed him to know that he was worth something.

“Because I love you, Katsuki.”

Taglist: @ohnosiren @thatpersonwithissues @winchester-wifey

[panticwritten]

Pearl-Handled Shotgun: Chapter One

Yeah. I have no posting schedule for this haha. We’ll just see how it goes.

Prologue

Word count: 2978

TW:

Emotional warfare (of the controlling parent kind)

Hardcore dissociation

Reference to police brutality

Alyssa

“You’re lucky we could keep it out of the newspapers.”

Alyssa doesn’t look at her father, drumming her nails against the arm of the chair. Her mom watches from a chair behind him, her disapproval clear in the curve of her brow, the thin line of her mouth. The teen turns her head so she doesn’t have to see either of them.

“That man could have pressed charges. Do you think he would have gone after your little friends?” She bristles at the sneer in his voice, but she keeps her mouth shut. “You have a promising future ahead of you, I won’t stand by and watch you throw that away.”

She nods idly, the bare minimum of what he wants from her.

“I don’t know where this is coming from, your lashing out. Your brother never did anything like this.”

Ah, there it is. Calim, the perfect son. The good one. The easy one.

“He just never got caught,” she mutters.

“What was that?”

She looks up, at the familiar anger in her father’s eyes. He cocks an eyebrow up, expectant. She sighs and shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

He stares at her, his gaze hard, before returning to pacing to and fro in front of the fireplace. “What else have you been doing behind our backs? It isn’t safe, and it certainly isn’t acceptable.”

“Last night was an accident,” Alyssa says before she can hold the words back. “We took a wrong turn.”

He stills, burning eyes back on her. “You shouldn’t have been out at all last night!”

“I already apologized for that.”

“You can’t really think a petty ‘sorry’ will make up for breaking our trust? For sneaking out, so you could—what? Run around the city with a group of delinquents?”

She straightens up, scrabbling to hold onto her unruffled air. “Delinquents?”

“They’re a bad influence.”

“They are not!” Shoulders squared, Alyssa’s practiced placidity ruptures at his ‘holier than thou’ stance. “Stephanie and Jared are good friends, and they don’t treat me like a glass doll or a- a- a piece of advertising!”

“Alyssa, dear, please don’t yell,” her mom warns, her voice soft. It diffuses the immediate tension in the air. Her father says nothing. The coolness in his eyes, however, tells her the damage has already been done. Alyssa clears her throat and continues with more restraint.

“I apologize, sincerely, for what happened. I should have been honest with you.” She pauses, heartened when her father jerks his head in a nod. “It wasn’t the first time I left without permission, and it was unfair of me keep you in the dark.”

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times have you snuck out?” he asks. His deceptively level voice spreads anxiety through her chest, thick and sticky in her throat. She swallows it down and makes a mental tally.

“Twelve?” She offers. It’s not counting the days she used shopping trips as cover for driving the roads on the eastern edges of Portland with her friends, but she doesn’t tell him that.

He considers this thoughtfully, as if deciding whether he’ll have honey or jam on his toast. Alyssa sees it in his eyes when he comes to a conclusion, one fist coming down on his open palm.

“Then we’ll discuss this again in twelve weeks.”

Her heart constricts in her chest, driving her to her feet. She manages to keep her mouth shut, but that’s not enough. It’s never enough. He raises a brow, unimpressed, and starts for the family room door.

“You won’t leave the manor unattended until then. You have ten minutes to tell your friends before I collect your devices.” He pauses at the door, looking back with a painfully detached expression. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she says automatically, unable to suppress the reflex.

The door closes behind him, with hardly a whisper. She stares unseeing at the polished surface, almost wishing he had slammed it. She lowers herself back into the chair, wiping the back of a hand over her eyes before the pinch behind them can turn into tears.

If he can keep ahold of his temper, so can she.

“It could have been worse.” Alyssa jolts violently when her mom speaks. She had almost forgotten she was here.

“I know.” She doesn’t look over, dragging her phone out of her pocket. Steph and Jared will lose their minds if she just disappears for three months, especially after her father left them in jail for the night.

“You could have been killed,” she continues, voice low. Alyssa freezes, her fingers hovering over the screen. “ Just because we are who we are doesn’t mean it’s safe to get into trouble. An officer won’t think twice before they pull that trigger.”

Alyssa nods, looking up. Without her father here as a distraction, she now sees what she didn’t before in her mom’s furrowed brow, pressed lips. Fear, not disappointment. Regret pangs in her chest. “I know, mom. I swear we weren’t trying to do anything illegal.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She rises from her chair, full of grace as always, and offers her daughter a strained smile. “You need to be careful. Smarter. I’ll try to talk your father down, but I do agree that you need time to think about what happened last night.”

She nods again, and her mom starts for the door.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.”

She doesn’t answer, closing the door silently behind her. Alyssa sighs, sinking deeper into the back of the chair, and pulls up a group chat.

A<-- Hey.

A<-- I am SO sorry about my father, I can’t believe he just left you there.

A<-- I hope you both are okay. At the very least, that you’re home safe.

A<-- I can’t leave the house on my own for a few months, and he’ll be back for my phone any minute now.

She watches the screen with bated breath. After a moment, both of their icons appear beside the messages. Before she can register her relief, Steph responds.

S--> hey!

S--> i was starting to rly worry

S--> mom picked us up right after u left

A<-- Oh, thank god.

J--> a few months

J--> what the hell

J--> my dad took my keys but like

J--> just for a two weeks

S--> im grounded for a month :(

A<-- We’ve talked about my parents before. Are you really surprised?

J--> nah i guess not

J--> but thats hella rough

J--> someone needs to take some parenting classes

S--> im sorry aly

J--> how to be a good dad and not alienate your children or whatever

J--> oh shit yeah we kinda did get you in trouble huh

A<-- It’s not your fault. My mom said she’ll try to change his mind, but I doubt that will do much good.

A<-- Besides, you both got in trouble, too. It’s as much my fault as it is yours.

J--> no man dont say that

J--> youd never been camping thats a fucking crime

J--> i mean shooting at teenagers for pitching a damn tent should be a crime but thats a whole other thing

S--> jj

S--> not funny

A<-- He’s right, though.

J--> hell yeah drinking down this validation

J--> glug glug motherfucker

S--> stop

S--> ur ok tho?

S--> like should we worry?

Her phone slips through her fingers, pulled away by nimble hands, before she can answer. She hadn’t noticed her father come back in, and he leaves again without otherwise acknowledging her. She watches him go without a word.

Arguing more would make it worse. She’s lucky to have gotten ten minutes.

Now that she’s alone with nothing to do, she hefts herself upright. She stares at the embers glowing in the fireplace, considering what to do for the rest of the day. She has schoolwork due on Monday. She needs to decide within the month between Oxford—her father’s alma mater—or the local university her friends already enrolled in.

PSU sounds more fun. She wouldn’t like to think of the repercussions that may come out of that decision, though. Her parents don’t even know she applied.

She shakes her head and strides out of the room. Her feet take her along the familiar path upstairs to her study while she broods about three months without the promise of a night out on the town or a day flying along back roads in Jared’s convertible. By the time the bars are lifted, she’ll have graduated.

And she’ll have a month with them before her inevitable shipment off to Oxford.

She slams the door much harder than intended at the thought. She’s visited the campus a few times, walked through the city, and something about it leaves her uneasy. It’s beautiful, certainly, but it feels wrong.

She leans back against the door with a sigh, peering at the stack of books on her desk. The last thing she needs is for her grades to slip. She’s on thin ice as it is.

Her gaze drifts to the shelves lining the back of the room. They hold the books she’s sequestered from the library, or those that have been gifted to her.

She crosses to the closest shelf, running a finger along the books’ spines. Many of them, she still hasn’t read. She hasn’t had time to read since her parents began taking her to functions and benefits.

She dips a finger over the lip of the first in a series of old tomes wrapped in leather, one of her mom’s gifts to her this past Christmas, and drags it out. The first seems more weathered than the rest, the cover dull and rough rather than polished. She skimmed the first few pages when she first got the books, and she know there must have been effort put into it. The whole series is handwritten.

It’s as good as anything else.

She takes the book to her desk, promising herself that she’ll only read for a while. She has to get some work done before dinner, after all.

*****

“Alyssa? Are you in there?”

Alyssa jumps at the crackle of the intercom, heart racing and unseeing eyes leaving the yellowed pages of the book. It takes a few seconds to orient herself, remembering where she is. When she does, she recoils at the headache pounding behind her eyes, the roiling tension in her stomach.

She glances back down at the book to find it open near the middle. She can’t remember reading more than the first few pages—it was written as a personal diary of a slave girl named Brietta. She wrote in a neat script about mundane chores and city life, but she can’t remember the details of the anecdotes. She closes her eyes to try and remember.

Her stomach turns over when she catches a wisp of it, but it doesn’t stay long enough for her to grasp the memory itself.

“Alyssa!”

She jolts again, her eyes flying open. She rushes from her seat to the intercom and presses the flashing button for the dining room.

“Yes, mom, I’m here. What is it?”

“Come down for dinner, dear. I hope you haven’t been working too hard.”

She hesitates before answering, looking back to the book. It must have been hours since she holed myself up in there. She doesn’t remember any of it. She shakes her head and taps the button again.

“I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

She returns to the desk, ignoring her mother’s confirmation, and turns back to the first couple pages of the book. She finds the mention of ‘afternoons near the cold river after tending to mother’s sickness,’ jams one of many bookmarks upon the desk between the pages, and snaps the book shut.

She leaves it on the desk for later investigation, hurrying out to join her family in the dining room. Maybe some food will ease her lingering nausea.

By the time she enters the dining room on the ground floor, both of her parents are already perched in their seats at the far end of the table. Her mom greets her with a warm smile, her father with a nod from the end chair.

She apologizes for being late and takes a seat across from her mom. The air lays heavy upon the room, increasing the pressure behind her eyes. Even the light viola drifting from the wall speakers can’t break the tension growing with each overdone slice of a knife her father grinds on his plate through the steak.

She struggles to keep from screwing her eyes shut against it, forcing her hands into measured strokes. One bite at a time, then this will be over.

“So.”

It’s her mom that breaks the silence. All sounds of eating pause for only a moment, the rhythm of the meal changing, before continuing as though it never stopped.

“It’s gotten warm awfully fast this year, hasn’t it? Just last week it was freezing.”

“And now we’re in the upper seventies,” her father agrees.

Alyssa manages hold back a physical sigh of relief, bringing a stalk of asparagus to her lips. Her parents chat about the weather, and she keeps her head down—metaphorically speaking.

“How was your afternoon, Alyssa?” her mom asks, bright eyes on her. She lowers a slice of steak back to her plate and clears her throat with a brief glance at her father.

“Uneventful. How was yours, mother?”

She inclines her head, a conspiratorial smile playing on her lips. “Absolutely boring. My husband and daughter were hidden away in their studies all day.”

She laughs before Alyssa can feel guilty. She reaches across the table and brushes her fingers over the back of Alyssa’s hand, forgiveness promised in her eyes.

“Hidden away?” her father remarks. His words flow warmly, a rare grin directed at his wife. “My door is always open to you, Carmen.”

“And watch you approve paperwork all day? No thank you, sir!”

Alyssa can’t help but smile at the exchange.

“And you? You were upstairs for quite a while.”

The sharp change in her father’s tone straightens her spine, and her my expression morphs back into one of bland interest as she turns to meet his eyes. The sudden movement jolts her headache, and she isn’t able to hide all of her wince behind her clenched jaw.

“I was catching up on some reading for class,” she lies smoothly.

“I see.” He nods and leans forward in his chair. “You don’t look well.”

She hesitates, unwilling to admit the truth. She can’t imagine her father’s reaction to her losing several hours of time would be good, so she waits for the jammed cogs in her brain to churn out a suitable response.

“It’s just a headache,” she promises after a long pause, ignoring the way her stomach somersaults as she speaks. “Eye-strain, maybe. I was reading for several hours.”

“You shouldn’t work so hard.” Her mom’s serene interjection prompts her father to return his attention to his plate.

“I lost track of time.” Alyssa offers her a smile. She mirrors it, then turns back to her husband to discuss their upcoming trip to the capital.

Alyssa wastes no more time clearing her plate and asking to be excused. Her mom tells her to take an ibuprofen from her purse in the front hall, which she does on her way back upstairs.

Back on the third floor, she pauses at the door to her study. Just a few steps down the hall, her bedroom waits. Her bed waits, and the pounding behind her eyes feels like reason enough to take an early night.

With a sigh, still, she jerk the door open. She left the lights on, and the glare shining from the glossy cover of a textbook almost turns her back around. She stubbornly crosses the room and takes a seat at her desk.

The leather book waits for her, and she nearly flips it back open on impulse. She glances over at the stack of texts to her right, the slip of paper poking out of the first with a list of tasks.

She lifts the book, the rough cover feeling familiar under her fingertips. The cover doesn’t bear a title or an author, just the letters B.O.F. embossed across the front. She runs a finger over the initials, then the edge of the cover.

The trailing string on the bookmark knocks a pen from the desk, and she straightens up. Within moments, the book is hidden away in the desk drawer. She can read it later, when she’s gotten some work done.

Her work is much harder to get through than she may have hoped. Her headache slowly fades, but she can’t concentrate. Her thoughts keep circling back to Oxford, her friends, and the look on her mother’s face when they spoke in the family room.

That woman has been through enough.

She drops her pen on the desk and groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She’s been reading the same line over and over for the past—she can’t even see how long it’s been because she doesn’t have her phone!

You don’t need to know the time when you’re working. You’re done when the work is done.

She shakes her head in her hands, banishing her father’s words into the ether. He’s taken enough energy from her today.

It’s not fair.

She rises from the chair, every movement sticky and slow. Flicking the desk lamp off, she pads to the door, covering a yawn with the back of a hand. She only made it through two of the six readings due, and she still hasn’t touched the worksheets, but she has all of Sunday to get them done.

She barely registers the walk down the hall to her room. She doesn’t bother turning the lights on, merely kicking her shoes off on the way to the bed and falling face first onto the pillow. Her father will likely have words with her if he catches her sleeping in her clothes, but she doesn’t care.

[janiedean]

Do you believe in the statement "Islam is a religion of peace"? I think it's a ridiculous statement and I'm sick of people repeating it over and over. Saying it doesn't make it true. I have NOTHING against Muslims as people but the Koran is no better than the Bible when it comes to violence and pretending otherwise is just ridiculous to me. I came across a gifset the other day of a Muslim woman insisting that Islam is "the most feminist religion of all" and it just doesn't make sense to me.

man you’re talking to an atheist so obviously my answer is biased, and I read the bible but not the koran (I read bits not all of it) so my opinion is what it is, but:

given that I think that the bush jr policy of demonizing islam post sept 11th was the dumbest shit he could have done and I’m happily blaming that for 90% of the mess we’re in today and that I don’t think islam is inherently more violent than christianity given that as you said violence in holy books is about that same level

and given that a lot of the koran has been (purposefully or not) misquoted to justify terrorism/fight against terrorism

and given that 90% of the parts of the sharia law we find more abhorrent (ie the ones condemning lgbt+ people, allowing child brides and so on) aren’t actually in the koran but are holy because some interpreters who were also holy men declared them so so a lot of it is - as with christianity - stuff added by the organized part of the religion (like, there isn’t ONE line in the bible openly condemning abortion unless you don’t interpret the sermon of the mount in a specific way but honestly, but according to the catholic church and christianity in its worst incarnations abortion is A SIIIINNNN)

I also think that everyone automatically tries to delete the worst parts of the religion they believe in and the likes and at the same time it’s really hard to question things you were taught since the day you were born. and going like yES BUT THIS LINE IN THE BOOK SAYS THIS doesn’t mean anything because another says the contrary ten pages after and a lot of religious ppl in general haven’t even read either the koran (see: a lot of isis recruits) or the bible (see: most people who tell me that if I read it I’ll convert, then I tell them I did and if they remember the dismembered concubine from the book of kings and they fall from the clouds. aha) and they tend to stick to the parts that are *safer*. ie for christianity everyone moderate says it’s all about the best parts of the gospel (and no one ever remembers my two favorite bits ie when jesus told people who *went around talking in his stead* that he didn’t know them from adam and when he said to one of the two thieves crucified next to him that he had a place in heaven with him hahahahhahahahaha) and never about the worst parts of them or of the old testament (for one, did you know that with the plagues of egypt the pharaoh refused to let moses go because god directly influenced him because he wanted to show how much more powerful he was in comparison to the pharaoh’s false gods, because the poor guy actually would have let moses leave after the sixth plague? YEAH I DIDN’T UNTIL I READ IT EITHER) same as a lot of moderate muslims focus on the best parts of the koran like the peace message and so on and ignore the worst.

now, personally I think that religious books are written in such a way that you can find anything and its contrary inside them. the bible is BOTH old and new testament but even if you decide that the old doesn’t matter because you only follow jesus’s teachings, okay, paul in some of his letters says exactly the contrary of what jesus meant but paul’s letters are in the NT and no one’s taking them out yet. st. augustine is one of the church’s Fathers with the capital F but he came up with predestination (which is a thing that is absolutely not in the NT) and the catholic church ignores it because it eventually rejected that vision. and so on. it’s not surprising that moderate muslims see their religion as a religion of peace and the jihadists use it to fuel terrorism because both interpretations have their valid points. if you’re moderate and want to say muslim religion is peaceful you have your quotes, if you’re not you have others. and so on. so like, I personally think that since to me it’s all about stuff that doesn’t exist it’s all very ridiculous and I honestly can’t conceive killing themselves in the name of someone whose existence you cannot prove never mind that it’s basically the same God just with a different name and a different theological interpretation so like, wtf guys. I don’t think any religion is inherently peaceful or warmongering, I think people make of it what they want and that you need it separated from the state in any case because if that doesn’t happen it’s always going to coincide with someone’s political interests and fanatics will breed more easily.

re the feminism, I have issues in that sense and maybe a clearer opinion tho that might be that there’s things I cannot chalk to cultural relativism to justify, but like: it’s true that in theory islam is not... well, anti-women at its core because let’s all remember that in the middle ages muslim women on paper were better off than europeans unless my high school books lied about that, but it’s true that a lot of the **sharia** law mentioned above is NOT fucking feminist - whatever you mean with it - and I’m honestly... I mean, I get cultural relativism, but like let’s just take the veil. in theory if it’s an imposition it’s not even valid because you have to choose to wear it and it’s all good, but do people choose to wear it in countries like idk taliban afghanistan? do people have a choice about it when it’s not just the veil but covering your whole damned body and you can’t touch someone else’s hand without your husband’s permission? and saying that it’s also valid for men makes me lol because I haven’t seen men under a burqa yet. like everyone has the rights to choose what they wear or not, but when it’s de-humanizing like that (bc burqas are de-humanizing to me sorry) and it’s people who have been taught since they were born that they have to wear it... is that a choice? and like, yeaaah in saudi arabia eight year old girls can marry people thrice their age and if I have a vagina I can’t drive a car, but that’s feminist? like where I teach, one morning each week it’s just women and only women can teach because some don’t/won’t come if men are attending as well and won’t be taught by male teachers. and like... I understand they do it because otherwise they don’t come, but I feel really iffy about accommodating a thing that to me is out of this freaking universe, especially because you get veiled women coming to regular class without a problem. shit like that imo is just backwards and the fact that it happened here fifty years ago as well means that while I won’t judge muslim countries too harshly on that sense... well, we moved past it and we have equality on paper, shouldn’t they have it too? (admittedly I don’t think attaching ideologies to any religion is a good idea because what the hell does FEMINIST RELIGION even mean, catholics are crazy when it comes to worshipping mary so they’re also feminists?? and religion are used to prop up other ideologies every other day so like.... I’m iffy on that period) so on that topic I honestly can’t agree but because I don’t agree that religions are inherently any -ism.

tldr: I think everyone picks and chooses when it comes to religions so saying that it’s THIS OR THAT is ridiculous (christianity from the westboro baptists is not catholicism to say one and they have the same holy book) and that you need to separate them from politics before doing any kind of this discourse. I also don’t agree with this policy of ‘since bush jr policy was BASHING ON ISLAM FOR EVERYTHING’ now we have to do the contrary and ‘EXCUSE ISLAM FOR EVERYTHING’ because it doesn’t help - you have to condemn the bad apples of the bunch and not alienate the good ones, and that means also criticizing where it’s due.

I mean, ffs, it was on the news here the other day but some girl in bologna who came from a muslim family who didn’t want to wear the veil was forcefully shaved by her mother (like shaved all her hair) and she told her teachers saying she didn’t want to live with them anymore because they were pushing the veil and the religion on her and she didn’t want that, and now she’s with the social services. she’s fourteen. that’s feminist? I don’t... really think so. and the fact that I’m atheist and I don’t get it from the pov of a religious person doesn’t mean that I can’t say it’s fucked up when it’s fucked up.