#even if the last post will show that I'm running out of wall space a bit

[victorluvsalice]

-->Photos! The trio definitely needed some photos of their trip! And will you look at that -- the photo booth was directly behind Victor and Smiler! I promptly had them duck inside for a flirty pic, then followed up by having Victor and Alice (after a smooch break) go and take one themselves. Victor seemed to prefer the one of him and Alice to the one of him and Smiler -- maybe he didn’t like the way he looked in the first one, I dunno. But still, new unique memento of the date!

-->Of course, if you’re at an amusement park, you also have to check out at least SOME of the rides! And so the gang headed off to enjoy the Ferris Wheel, with Alice running ahead and Victor and Smiler catching up (as I’d decided they’d ride together on this one). Alice had a fine ride, but Victor and Smiler got one of the pop-ups, with Victor trying to ask Smiler about something on their mind but getting shut down. :( What the hell, game? Fortunately it didn’t result in any bad moodlets or sentiments or anything. And even better, when Alice got off, I directed her to take a picture of the Ferris Wheel -- and accidentally lined up a perfect shot of Victor and Smiler coming off it! So that was nice. :D

-->And since it was Love Day, the trio followed up by going on the Cuddle Carts! As Victor and Smiler had gone together on the last ride, I decided Victor and Alice would go together on this one -- I sent Smiler on ahead, then discovered that only one Sim or one pair of Sims could go on the ride at a time when neither Victor nor Alice would get on. Well, at least that allowed me to line up another shot with Smiler, this one of Victor and Alice getting ON the ride -- a good complement to the Ferris Wheel snap. :) Smiler then proceeded to chill out outside, practicing their singing --

While I laughed myself stupid over Victor and Alice getting the “do you dare confess your feelings or back off and reaffirm your friendship” pop-up on the Carts. Game, they’re MARRIED. You really didn’t intend for anyone but teens and their crushes to get on these darn rides, did you? XD Well, at least it was a free romance boost for the pair!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Have you seen the halfa cass post that's been floating around? I'd love to see your take on that

I'm going to assume you mean the au made by @phandomhyperfixationblog so I'll write about that but if I am wrong please let me know in another ask or message.

Cass was sent to Amity Park to investigate its residents' disappearance. Ghost towns in the USA were fairly common, often after they were abandoned, the earth would reclaim the land and would be left untouched for years to come until a lucky urban exploder discovered it again.

What wasn't uncommon was that everything was left behind when the town was abandoned. Cass walks down three more streets, eyes taking in everything around her. Although the lawns were vastly overgrown and the houses left to the elements, there weren't a lot of open spaces.

Empty cars were parked perfectly along the road or in a lot, chairs and tables on porches were left out, children's toys laid in driveways, and after squinting through a few windows, she could see fully furnished households- some even had a slight mess as if the owners hadn't gotten around to their household chores yet.

One house even had a dinner table set up. The meal was rotten and smelled, but she could tell it was a family dinner that was interrupted mid-way.

Yes, everything was covered in dust, as if years had gone by since someone was last here, but otherwise, it looked like a thriving community had been here only a few days ago.

Even the stores were fully stoked, aisled upon aisled of merchandise left untouched for who knows how long. Restuantants were similar, rotten food aside, everything was open and set up as like a normal bussniess hour.

Overall, it didn't seem like the residents willingly abandoned this place. They left literally everything behind. Nothing showed looting either, which indicated how uncommonly outsiders came here.

The fact Cass was investigating Amity Park at all was because she was doing a favor for Raven. The girls didn't talk much, but it was the least she could do as the magic-user had helped her with a fight in Hong Kong a few days ago.

Raven claimed that an abnormal energy pulse came from the town. It wasn't wrong; some places just had more natural energy to them, but she had always wondered what the cause was.

It is a low-level mystery that she put off exploring due to all other priorities, but about a week ago, Raven sensed another pulse-this one reeking of death- and had asked Cass to check it out while she went on a space mission with the rest of the Titans.

She was supposed to take picutes, do some scenes and get some readings. Cass was not expecting to find literally no one for miles.

Cass slowly made her way down streets, breaking into houses and stores, looking for clues. She found no signs of a struggle but that may be due to the time frame of when this happened.

It wasn't until she got to Fenton Works that she managed that she could figure out some parts of the puzzle. The building itself was a challenge to get into. It was rigged to the teeth with weapons and security measures.

Some were old and rusted, but a majority quickly powered up to shoot at her as she tried to get past. Ducking and weaving through the blast she felt all her muscles burn from the rapid dodge she was doing.

Through years of training, she turned a handstand into a run and then a leap to crash through the front window, and the weapons outside halted as soon as she rolled to a stop in what appeared to be a cozy living room.

Weary, she watched as the gun blasters slowly retreated back into the slight holes along the roof, the fake pathway, and the gnome. Once done the world fell silent again. It's now that Cass startles.

She hadn't noticed Amity Park's silence until it was broken. She hadn't heard birds or the wind blowing through the leaves as she walked. Something was terribly wrong in this place.

Maybe she can find out what it was in Fenton Works.

She began her search by examining the walls. They were lined with family photos- a family of father, mother, and what she assumes are the children of both based on facial features, one girl and one boy. There are art pieces every so often- primarily abstract. The furniture is nothing expensive- coming from a generic furniture store. The kitchen smells rotten food- like most houses- but there is a stack of books on the table.

Cass peers down at them, noticing that they all revolve around a psychology of some sort. An open book is lying next to a notebook filled with notes for teenage development. A pencil is even left over the last unfinished sentence.

Danny's need for acceptance may be due to living in my shadow. I should show him more support.

Cass moves upstairs after confirming there is nothing else of value. There, he finds three rooms- a master bedroom obviously belonging to the parents, a slightly larger room belonging to the girl, and the smallest bedroom belonging to the boy.

Cass can confirm that the girl was tidier than the boy but while her room seemed less personal than the boy's. While the boy has far more personal touches to his belongings, nothing seems to be in order or so driven.

The parents' room was covered with either machinery that could be weapons or images of their children. Whoever they are- or were they loved the two deeply.

In the master bathroom, Cass found that the couple habitually wrote sticky notes with their to-do lists taped on the bathroom mirror's corner. She could tell the differences in handwriting and word choice- the mother wrote explanations while the father did short annotations.

Clean the beakers in lab zone 2. They are releasing gasses, so they must be disposed of properly.

Jazzy-pants slam poetry night. Nov 19th. 6pm.

Danny's sleep study. Dec 10th. Teachers said he's been falling asleep in class too often. It might be Narcolospy!

Dinner Date with Maddie. Nov 22. Classical music reservation.

Cass taps her chin. This happened before December but what year and where did everyone go?

She looks down at the sticky notes again, noticing that many speak about a "lab" downstairs. Seeing as she did not find a lab on the ground level, that only left a lower one.

Leaving the bedroom, she makes her way down to the basement, where she does, in fact, find a large lab. There is a clutter of tools for the eye to see, all surrounding what looks like everyday household items and weapons.

Cass's lips thin as she takes in the strangely shaped guns, staffs, and blades. A weapon maifator? But why here? She tried the computers she scattered about, but none worked. She didn't think so, seeing as the electricity had been shut down across the city, but she had hoped.

Thankfully, this family seemed to believe in paper and pencils because she could find multiple writings throughout the lab. It's mathematical, primarily formulas, a half-baked thesis of "ecto-being" behavior, and notes on "ecto-beings." portal.

A portal that is sitting at the far right of the lab. Cass walks around the perimeter checking to see if it has any traps, but finds none. Then she walks over to the controllers testing the power on it.

She pressed the on button waits forty seconds to confirm that it was not active before she entered the portal. It resembles an early design of the zeta tubes. Maybe the family here were trying to develop teleporting technology-

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Someone shouts. Cass jumps a good foot in the air, swinging around with her fists raised for battle. She hadn't heard him! Hadn't sensed him at all!

It's been long since anyone has gotten the drop on her. She is just grateful she is wearing a mask- not her batgirl or Orphan gear but rather a borrowed ninja outfit Damian had granted her- since it means her identity is protected from the glowing man at the stairway's base.

Wait, glowing?

She opens her mouth to demand to know who he is when the portal powers on. She only had a moment to bite back a swear before her world exploded in pain.

Cass can hear herself scream, but it's too far away from the agony of electricity being poured into her body. She is being ripped apart by it, pushed and molded, and put back together again, only to start the process repeatedly.

It feels like ages before she can't handle it anymore- again, it's been years since that last happened- before the world fades away and she falls into blissful slumber

She has smoke-grey hair and glowing opal-white eyes when she wakes hours later.

The man is leaning over her with snow-white hair and glowing green eyes, looking worried as Cass finds that her body can no longer stay solid. It seemed that she had died and now had the body of a ghost.

She knows who makes this.

"Hello, Danny," She says, pushing through the pain of her death. Oh gods, how will Bruce react when he learns about her stupid error. She doesn't want to think about it, so she pushes it away to give the startled man an empty smile. She had to at least figure out the mystery so that her death can not be in vain."I have some questions about Amity Park."

[toranesu]

ur kafka and blade post had my mind running sm. so i had this rlly nasty thought abt fucking them in some tight space while they're on a mission. like, even if the mission was urgent, who were they to say no to your greediness?

anon i love you for this i would 100% grope blade's ass or stare at kafka's crotch while fighting like hello??? sir, ma'am, i'm gonna need some time to control my cock (i got too into this and made it too long mb 💀)

sub bottom blade + sub bottom kafka x dom top gn reader | cw. semi-public sex, groping, reader is a greedy pervert, polyamory relationship, amab reader but cock can be interpreted as strap, riding, squirting, supposedly a quickie.

"enjoying the view, gorgeous?" she gives you a smug smile, right as she killed off an enemy. of course kafka would be the first to notice it. your eyes glued on her crotch while she shoots those antimatter engions and voidrangers. the way her chest bounces when she moves— isn't she just riling you up on purpose at this point?

you shrug in response and follow blade into the next room. you had been appointed by elio to go on a mission in herta's space station, to invade the control room and find some sort of information, to be exact. you didn't really get any of the details, but said yes anyway cuz why would anyone say no to spending time with their not one, but two sexy lovers.

it has been a while since the three of you last fucked, now that you think of it. no wonder you're so pent up... another enemy shows up, blade's taking care of it. the way his ass is just glaring at you from behind, his perfectly curved waist, his chest— why is it so big? he's gotta be at least a D cup.

the enemy dies and you can't help yourself. before you realize it, your hand lands on blade's ass, squeezing the soft, refined mound of flesh. you didn't mean to! you were going to hold his waist and praise him for his technique... really!

blade flinches at your touch, his face heating up while his body tenses. you- right now, seriously? that's basically what's going on in his mind. he wants to react but, your hand on his ass does feel nice.

"ah? having fun without me? that's mean," kafka approaches, closing and locking the door behind her. "you aren't hogging them for yourself, are you bladie?" she hums, looking at the two of you, precisely with your hand still on blade's ass.

blade flushes and looks at her with a frown, attempting to defend himself. "no i-" you cut him off, pulling kafka by her waist and wrapping kissing her neck (which she willingly exposed to you).

"come on, let me have my fun. we haven't done it in ages. i'm suffering out here, y'know?" you groan, it being slightly muffled by the fact that you're basically smothering yourself in kafka's neck. she smells nice.

blade leans into you, pulling your arm from his ass to around his waist as well. kafka smiles at you, ruffling your hair fondly, "yeah? missed us, didn't you?" fuck, she's always so smug. it's so weakening and so.. arousing. makes you want to put her in her place, doesn't it? she knows it and she loves it.

"we're in a secluded area," blade finally lets out his voice, letting out soft breaths, his hand resting on yours while your arm is around his waist. "everyone must have retreated by now. i want to.." he mumbles, a bit quiet but loud enough for you and kafka to hear.

blade had never been so vocal about his wants and needs, so the fact that he's admitting it at all must mean he's been all pent up too. how cute.

"aw, blade," you coo, letting go of your hand on kafka's waist and putting it on blade's cheek, kissing his lips endearingly. he lets out a low moan at your affection, his hand still on yours.

kafka smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing loudly, getting in the middle of you. "no more stalling. i've been waiting on this too. i'm waiting for one of you to fuck me already, you know?"

"sorry bladie, you don't mind me going first, right?" kafka lets out a heavy breath, her walls clamping down on you. she's so warm and tight... oh how you missed this.

it's not really efficient to fuck in the storage room of someone else's space station, but you'll take it. you're sitting down leaning against the wall, kafka with her clothes discarded sitting on your dick, tits looking bouncy and magnificent, her eyes half lidded while she bounces on your cock—blade's leaning on your shoulder, your hand on his dick, he's moaning softly as your hand rubs his leaking slit. fuck, this is heavenly.

kafka is having the time of her life. she absolutely adores riding you, your dick reaches the deepest parts of her, brushing against her cervix everytime you thrust inside. she enjoys the way you're under her, moaning as she makes you feel good.

but you only have a limited size of self control, using your other hand to grip kafka's hip and thrust inside her, making her moan loudly in ecstasy. you're deep inside her, the way your dick drags in and out her soaking pussy— ahh, she can't get enough of this.

"fuck, if- if we weren't on an urgent mission i would've loved to eat you out before this, kaf," you breathe out between moans, she's so warm and welcoming, your dick could melt inside her (or maybe she's just a whore).

kafka laughs breathily, holding your shoulder and groaning as she pushes herself down on you. "ah, y-yeah? what makes you think i'd let you?" always so cocky. dumb brat needs to be put in her place.

you kiss blade's cheek before letting go of his weeping cock, both your hands grabbing kafka's hips and slamming her down on you repeatedly. she lets out loud moans, her legs trembling and her toes curling. "what a fucking brat. so cocky when all you want is my dick. aren't you just my whore, princess?" you groan, continuing to fuck into her like a madman.

she can't even make a snarky reply at that point. her whole body is trembling, her tits bouncing, she's squealing and moaning, drool slipping past her mouth. but then your hand reaches to squeeze one of her breasts before pinching her clit— fuck. she throws her head back and squirts all over you, leaving you soaking wet from her fluids.

you groan at the sight and give her a kiss on the lips before pulling out of her, earning a dissapointed sigh as you lean her down on the wall next to you. kafka's had her fun, now you gotta take care of your neglected sweet boy right beside you. blade's panting at the sight, already stretching himself out for you and mewling when he feels your eyes on him.

he's waited all this long and even prepared himself for you! what a good boy. you kiss blade's swollen lips, poor boy must've been biting back his moans to not disturb you and kafka. he's so sweet.

"blade," you coo, brushing the hair out of his face. he lets out a small 'mm' at your voice, letting you hold his hips while he straddles you. he blushes lightly and holds your still hard dick, aligning it with his stretched out hole. he needs you, he needs you bad.

you rub circles on his hip as he steadily sinks himself down on your cock, breathing heavily and scrunching his eyes at the feeling that he oh so craved. he moans when you're fully inside him, leaning his head on your shoulder and letting out heavy breaths, adjusting to your size.

you kiss the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair, your other hand rubbing circles on his hip. "there we go, good boy. doing so good for me, yeah?" you whisper, soothing him as he moans at your words, lightly rolling his hips against yours. "take your time to adjust, move when you're ready, okay?" you remind him. the mission was urgent; sure, as much as this should be a quickie, you can't just force your dick in someone's hole!

after a short while, blade starts moving, rolling his hips against yours steadily before starting to bounce up and down your cock. he whimpers and moans, trying to keep his voice down— unlike someone who couldn't even bother (not like you could either). this takes you back to the first time you had sex with him, he's so shy, so quiet, holding in his voice. it's so so adoring, you think.

you pepper kisses onto blade's chest and collarbone, letting him fuck himself on you while you hold his hips to help steady him. he looks so pretty when he's breathless above you like this— both him and kafka do.

"so pretty, blade," you groan out, nipping his jaw while he continues to bounce on you, matching your thrusts. he really was ethereal... eyes half lidded, mouth parted open. you can't get enough of this.

you gotta end things fast though, the mission's still important. kafka had gotten you close to your climax already so now you're even closer, feeling your dick twitch in blade.

you kiss blade's shoulder softly, fucking into him while your other hand reaches towards his neglected cock. blade mewls as he feels you stroke his dick, getting him close to his own ejaculation. your hips nor his stop thrusting, your hand stroking his dick at the same pace.

"cumming– hng, i'm c-cumming," blade slurrs, nipping onto your shoulder and moaning, his dick twitching in your hold.

you kiss the shell of his ear, whispering, "cum for me, blade." and with that, he releases in your hand, his walls clenching around you tightly as he moans in ecstasy.

"good boy," you kiss blade's sweaty forehead before getting him off of you, sitting him down next to you and palming yourself, chasing your own release.

"hello?? kafka? blade? [name]? where are you? did you get the stuff?" the voice of a familiar hacker reaches your ears.

you curse under your breath, "oh fuck."

[barefoothighlander]

spillways - panic

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mentions of ptsd, angst, bit ooc!ghost

-word count: 1.5k

-summary: after a year of working loosely alongside the 141, you are deployed on your first ground mission. trying to navigate having to work with a team and your lieutenant who seems set on getting a rise out of you.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: alright so I'm planning on making this a slow burn, we'll see how long that lasts, I'm trying so hard to be normal about ghost but at the same time I can't so, here you go. :)

I wonder to myself, 

could life ever be sane again?

You thrust yourself awake, alarm bells ringing in your head, something was wrong, something felt off. Faced with the darkness of your bedroom you shift your weight to glance around, nothing out of place, no noises aside from the occasional car alarm, but the buzzing, the buzzing was loud. Your head filled with the buzzing that seemed to have no end and no beginning, turning over you see the time, 3:44 am, staring back at you with that obnoxious, bright red gleam, sighing to yourself 2 hours of sleep isn’t so bad. 

Raising yourself from the bed you’re met with a cold breeze shit, the window was open, striding towards the wall to close it with a loud thud, you hated this apartment, it was old, nothing worked, and the floors creaked under any sort of movement, it didn’t feel like home. You manage the strength to walk to the kitchen and turn on a lamp, growing accustomed to residing in low light, rarely did you ever have your space fully illuminated. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and begin your day, you didn’t have much to do around the apartment considering the only thing on your agenda was to show up to base for deployment, but you still had 4 hours to kill. You occupied yourself with meaningless tasks, tidying the living space even though it had barely anything in it, you had bought the apartment 3 years ago but spent less than 9 months actually living there, it was simply a means of habitat between deployments. Truthfully you don’t know what to do with yourself if you aren’t off in some desert, or mountain range on a mission.

Finally, the clock read 7:15, you figured you had waited an adequate amount of time pacing around the apartment, so you got dressed in some casual clothes that were appropriate for any form of the tactical situation, grabbed your bag and left for the base. You made the drive often enough that it felt like your brain was on autopilot, muscle memory telling you where to turn and when. But you were right, something was off, the buzzing in your head was persistent, and your thoughts ran rampant, usually, you were halfway decent at getting your mind to quiet down, focusing it on whatever task you were assigned, but without some sort of obstacle, you found anxiety begin to bubble in your stomach. You weren’t nervous, not for a standard op, you had run through missions like this a handful of times, and you knew what to expect, what you needed to do, this was something else. Were you nervous to work directly with the 141? You had been assigned a posting with them for a little over a year now, but you never worked with them, only ever as the eye in the sky, providing aid only when deemed necessary, this time you would be on the ground with them, working with them, surviving with them.

Your thoughts occupied your time, and when you reached the base you felt like you had only been driving for 5 minutes. 7:47, enough time to sneak in, you weren’t close with the team, not like how they were with each other, they often invited you to the local pub after a successful mission but you always declined, giving them some excuse along the lines of you being too tired to stay out, most of the time they wouldn’t argue, but you could always feel a gaze staring daggers at the back of your head when you decided to not spend time with them. They meant well, you could tell, but you weren’t looking for another person to ask about your history, or why you joined the force, and you certainly weren’t looking for any sympathy, reducing yourself to a life of seclusion outside deployment.

You made your way to the briefing room, stunned to see that almost everyone was already there, everyone except one person, the only other person who found any sort of comfort in the shadows alongside you, the Ghost. Price waited another few minutes while the guys entertained themselves, recalling a few drunken stories they found amusing, Soap explaining to Gaz why he’s banned from 6 separate pubs in Manchester alone. At 7:56 you saw the door open, and the unmistakable mask breeze in, he was hard to miss, tall and broad, but quiet, always quiet. He found his place near the back of the room, settling himself to lean against a desk.

Turning your attention to Price, trying to focus on the information he was presenting, something about a cartel, and illegal weapons trading in Mexico. You couldn’t focus, not with the buzzing in your head, you tried your best, Ghost noticing the way you constantly adjusted your stance to try to hear Price better. Finally, the brief ended, and you could barely remember a thing the Captain had said aside from “meet at the heli deck 1600 hours.” Inching forward to grab a folder from the table so you could actually study what the assignment was, you felt a strong hand grab your elbow. Glancing up, Ghost was there, invading your space.

“You alright Sargeant?”

“Fine Leuitenent, why?”

“You seem agitated or something” He releases his grip on your elbow as he feels your muscles tense.

“Just tired, didn’t sleep well”

“I know the feeling, go rest, you have time” is all he says, and then he leaves.

You stop for a minute, fiddling with the edges of the folder in your hands, the buzzing is gone is all you can think, as you turn around to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s gone. 

For the first time today, your thoughts are clear, no alarm bells, no buzzing, there’s clarity, and you don’t know why. You chalk it up to the difference in humidity, or atmosphere around the base. But even in the clarity, you can’t sleep, you tried, laying down on your cot for nearly an hour, trying to will your body to rest, but it was useless, it’s hard to rest when you’re always in survival mode. Instead, you decide to take your efforts to the gym on base, choosing to put your thoughts to some use and beat the hell out of a punching bag.

Your knuckles are sore, your legs are cramping up, and you can begin to taste iron in your mouth, but none of these stop you. You continue your assault on the oversized bag of sand, forcing every ounce of energy into your punches and kicks.

“Thought I told you to rest” You didn’t hear him come in, but now, standing directly behind you, he’s hard to miss.

You keep facing away from him, centring the bag in front of you. “Couldn’t, thought my time was better spent here”

“You defied a superior's orders then?”

“A suggestion and an order are different Leuitenent”

“You always talk back? Tsk, that’s bad manners love” he asks, raising his arm to settle the bag in front of you, almost commanding your attention.

You turn to face him, finding his body much closer than you thought, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, they’re shrouded in black paint, his face concealed by the skull. 

“You don’t intimidate me, sir”

“Why not, every other bloke on this base is terrified of me,” he says leaning down a little, enough so that you can feel the warmth of his breath over your cheek.

You press your lips to his covered ear, making sure he hears you loud and clear.

“I see right through the mask,” you say, as you pull yourself back to stare into his dark eyes, and for a moment, you swear you see the telltale signs of a smile from the crinkles that form beside his eyes.

“I’ll see you on deck Sargeant” is all he says, striding away from you and down the hallway.

You stand there, breathless, you’ve never spoken to anyone that way, let alone a superior officer, but you won’t let him scare you, at the end of the day he’s just another man, made of flesh and bone, he bleeds the same colour as the rest of them.

You return to your shacks to rinse off whatever sweat you worked up. Stepping out and checking the time, 3:30, shit, how long was I in the shower for. Quickly gathering your necessary equipment for travel you make your way to the deck, only to be greeted by the loud whirring of helicopter blades, and the booming laughter of one Soap Mactavish.

“Ye ready for some fun lass?” Soap asks placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

Before you get the chance to respond Ghost once again appears out of nowhere.

“No time to waste, get packed in”

Soap glances at you but your eyes are set firm on the Leuitenent, while little feelings of anger begin to form in your chest. Removing his hand from your shoulder, Soap steps into the heli and seats himself next to some of the other guys. You situate yourself near the back of the carrier, far enough that no one would attempt to make conversation with you. To your dismay, Ghost plants himself directly next to you, close enough that your knees are forced to touch. You’re willing him to move, and he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction. 

This is gonna be a long ride.

[venus-giirl]

"A enemies to lovers"

Gyutaro Shabana x fem reader.

Fandom: Demon Salyer.

Word count: +1.8K

Rating: fighting, insults, fluff, anguish, enemies, harsh words.

N/A: I'm back, bitches. This last month I've been with final exams and couldn't find motivation to write. So last night I sat down and decided to write an enemies to lovers with Gyutaro, since I saw that the last post had been well liked. Enjoy reading, sorry for the hurtful words, but in this story the two of them hate each other… or not.

THE BOY IS A MONSTEERRRR

The room was dark. School supplies were cluttered all over the space, which was already cramped. Balls, tennis racquets, strings, mats, etc. Everything smelled like gym equipment, covered with the typical layer of dust that was hardly cleaned unless the equipment was being used.

Both of your breaths were labored, breathing hard due to the little air left inside along with the dense layer of dirt. You were angry at the stupid situation you were in.

"You shouldn't have come, it was me who was tasked to go get the mats." he growls in a serious tone, almost sounding like a dog facing his opponent.

"I've already told you a thousand times, he sent me to help you too, the mats are heavy…". you retort.

"I don't need your help, I am much stronger than you".

"You're an idiot if you think a woman can't fend for herself, Gyutaro."

"The idiot is you if you thought you were going to help me with those weak arms." His breath hits your face. It wasn't unpleasant to you, despite his hideous appearance. It smelled like a mixture of mint and body odor.

You shake your head shaking your thoughts away. My goodness, you disliked him for over two grades. He was so cruel and mean to the other students and envious through and through. He was always complaining about those who were better than him, especially in sports.

"Oh my god, you're unbearable, you know that?". You don't know what to respond and the only thing you can think to do is try to vent your anger by making him feel bad. Even though that really wasn't what you wanted, but you couldn't help it.

"Unbearable is your stupid voice and to top it off the door was locked with the keys out because of you, you clumsy girl." He had snuggled closer to you. Although the room wasn't very well lit, because the light wasn't working either, you could see his face with the small solar halo coming in through the small square window located above the wall where Gyutaro was.

His hands had reached your arms to shake you helplessly for the situation. You wince as he digs his fingers in that it almost hurts and you let out a whimper, trying to pull away from him.

"Let go of me, you brute." You fight back, trying to wiggle out of his grip. "I hadn't even seen the keys." When you had entered the materials room you didn't notice that the keys were in the lock, so you assumed that the trainer had already opened the door and that he had them hanging around his neck, as usual.

"Oh, of course. Because the girl is so dumb that even at that she's not able to figure it out." His comments were starting to hurt and tears were beginning to sting the edges of your eyes. You were not going to allow yourself to sink with his hurtful words. If he could insult you with no regard for your feelings, of course you would too. You hated him.

"You are inconsiderate, sarcastic and unbearable." You scream and press the palm of your hands on his hard chest to push him away from your body. "If you were in a different mood maybe we'd be out of here by now." You press your nails into his shirt and manage to rip a button off. He grunts and squeezes you tighter in his grip. Your arms hurt too much. It might even leave a mark on you.

"I didn't need your help!" He yells and shakes you.

"Fuck, Gyutaro, this isn't about help!".

"Then why do you always show up everywhere I go?". His question left you unsettled, blank. In fact, you also had the same feeling of running into him, in the hallways, at the lockers, when sometimes you were late because you overslept, in fights you were always around or even when he was expelled from class for confronting some teacher, you would show up by the punishment room to put some papers.

"What… What? For God's sake, I'm the deputy. It's normal for me to be doing… delegate stuff." You weren't crazy and you weren't chasing him, it's just a coincidence. right?

He laughs in a low, vile tone, not believing anything you say. "And it's also a coincidence that we're here right now?".

Your cheeks were starting to heat up from anger. "Honestly, I'd rather die than be locked in the same room as you." You spit out in a stern tone.

Gyutaro responds with a laugh too unpleasant for you "Dare to say that again and again and I'll break you". The glint of malice could be seen in his gaze. His teeth chattered with every word and his jaw tensed, you almost thought he might snap his teeth from the strain. His grip and his voice were harder and harder.

"Fuck you." You grab his shirt and try to shake him too.

"Oh, I'm flattered, but no thanks." You take a few steps forward and out of sense take a few steps back. You don't want him to touch you. You can't stand it. His touch feels rough and horrid to you. Cold and hard. Painful and… Fuck, stop thinking about it.

"I hate you, I hate you. I can't stand you and you think I'd be after you? Jesus Christ, you wouldn't believe that yourself. From the moment I saw you I couldn't stand you." Gyutaro is silent for a few moments, seconds in which a silent emptiness takes over the room, which, seconds before, had been filled with screams and voices, insults and confessions too painful and cruel to be able to say them to another person.

Seconds in which your body is pushed forcefully backwards. The air leaves your lungs abruptly and gravity takes hold of your body pulling you down. Your back crashes heavily against the mattresses and you feel a large, angry body looming over you. The vibes shook your skin and it bristled at the numerous sensations you were experiencing, fear, terror… But you were not going to show weakness before him. No way, he couldn't see you crying or in a vulnerable state.

Your breaths were agitated, loaded with words that wanted to leave your mouths to hurt again. Hands and legs move, squeeze, and you try to pull away. You sit up, but he places his palm on your chest and sinks you back down to the mattresses. You claw at his arms and groan, trying to overcome his enormous strength. He grunts gutturally and tries to grab your hands again. When he finally succeeds, he spreads your legs apart with his knees and stands over you, his bony pelvis now between your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs or kicking him. You gasp and grunt, arch your back, but nothing, you can't free yourself from him. From his prison. God…you were almost sure you'd never get out of there.

"I hate you you know." Desperate you attack him again with the only thing you have left.

"I know." He replies in a dry tone and smiles showing his menacing teeth.

"I hate your smile."

"I know." He repeats. His face moves closer to yours. Her hair, always messy, now falls around your face, forming a curtain between the two of you.

"And your face, you're so…you're so obnoxious." Your nose brushes against his, his breath hits your mouth and cheeks. If you could sink even deeper into the mattress you would have made it by now.

His weight on your body burned you more and more. "And I can't…I can't….". Your eyes widen as you feel his lips rest on yours. You don't know it at the time, as the darkness prevented you from seeing, but his eyes looked into yours with a glow…an unexplainable glow. His dry, chapped lips encircled yours in a chaste kiss.

Your breath catches and you let out a soft sigh, half-opening your lips. Gyutaro pulls away just an unbearable millimeter and you already feel the cold from the absence of warmth. In an uncontrollable impulse you sit up and kiss him back. You suck in a breath of air and crash your lips against his. Gyutaro grunts in an attempt to control himself and crushes you back against the mat without separating from you, without breaking the kiss again. His mouth opens and he sticks out his tongue to open your wet lips which you open, inviting him in. Your tongues meet, slippery with saliva. Oxygen is depleted as your kiss becomes more intense. Now it has become a war to see which tongue can dominate the other. Your mouths open in a kiss. His breath caresses your right cheek and you tilt your head so you can get more of him.

His hand held the back of your neck. Since when did his hand hold the back of your neck? His thick, calloused fingers curl and pull at it. Your body arches and his body hovers more over you, the mats supporting the weight of both of you. Gyutaro grunts and begins to eat from your mouth as if it were the last meal on earth. You follow his rhythm and you both create a dance, in which your mouths devour each other with anger, rage, hatred and uncontrolled passion. His teeth sting and graze your lower lip. From time to time he gently bites your tongue and curses, in words that crash over your lips, incomprehensible confessions.

You feel and hear Gyutaro's nails digging into the mat and breaking it as he clenches his fists. Your hands now embrace his neck and you pull at his hair, causing him to growl. At an indeterminate point, you become dizzy and can almost feel his pelvis shift between your thighs, searching for something to relieve himself with.

However, the crazy magic of that crazy kiss is interrupted by the jingling of keys and a male voice shouting, "Is someone inside, the door is locked, hello!". Everything falls apart when Gyutaro abruptly pulls away from your body and growls. His weight, his touch, his breathing, his hands…everything is now cold to you. Your mind gradually comes to its senses and you awaken your mind cold again, assessing the matter. You are still there, lying on the mats, trying to calm your breathing and organize the bomb of events in your head.

"Shit…" Gyutaro curses and turns his back on you. Before he leaves he gives you one last look showing his teeth and walks away, leaving his scent, his trail. You hear the professor hurling questions at Gyutaro who ignores him completely, until you stop hearing his footsteps. Your hands rise by inertia to your red, swollen lips and you again hear footsteps running into the material shed.

"T/n, are you okay?" Mitsuri's soft voice sounds concerned, but you don't manage to hear it. Not after what's happened.

"I… I hate him…". You whisper still feeling the trail of Gyutaro's kiss on your mouth.

[echoweaver]

Like a bunch of others have said, I have been nervous about making a simblr gratitude post because I'll almost certainly leave someone out, and that hurts. I guess I'll start with the disclaimer:

I read everyone I follow. I can't read every post, but I don't keep anyone on my dash who I haven't made a conscious decision to put there. If you've seen a like or a comment from me, I'm reading you, and I'm doing it because I like what you post.

And I appreciate a lot of simblrs I don't follow too. I've had to choose not to follow several who I'd like to follow, simply because of the above -- I read the folks I follow, and I can't let my follow list get too big for me to handle.

I also have a long list of story tags I follow specifically for stories that have a chronology that matters. I use XKit Rewritten on my browser to keep a list of unread posts by tag so that I don't miss posts from long-running stories.

OK, that said, and in no particular order...

@anamoon63 I have enjoyed the heck out of Alan Wilson's wild life. You're one of the reasons I'm poking at TS4 now. I also have gotten attached to Dale Cho and Kelly. They have so much personality.

@treason-and-plot I was intimidated by the complexity of your story for quite a while before I really started to dig in, but I couldn't stay away. You have so many characters! And so many plot threads! And they all weave together into a tangle of personalities that feel all too real.

@kimmiessimmies I'm still just getting to know your characters, but they're so vivid. As I've said in the comments, I really appreciate that Sadie and her entourage are mostly emotionally mature people who are working through their problems in reasonable ways. Characters don't have to be shallow or dumb to find themselves in drama, but it's a challenge to write mature ones.

@bearphase I got sucked in by Clem. Orange has got to be one of, if not the most challenging NSB generation, and you aced it. I've been invested ever since.

@rebouks You sucked a character all the way to rock bottom, and then he climbed out with hope and integrity and took everyone nearby out with him. I'm still not sure how you made such a dark story so warm and friendly.

@zosa95 I always smile when your characters show up on my dash. You're a warm presence in the community and a good storyteller. And your screenshots somehow manage to be extra endearing.

@greenplumbboblover I've never seen someone try to tell a soap opera of all of Sunset Valley. I'm getting a fresh look at characters who almost never get the spotlight. It's so much fun.

@mosneakers What can I say? I'd snatch Coraleye away from her boy if I had a chance.

@danjaley I can only imagine the kind of work that goes into the McCarrics. Reading their story makes me feel like a fly on the wall of real moments of a Scottish landed farmer's life. I've also snatched up a lot of your cc for my own projects.

@declaration-of-dramas You have such a beautifully staged historical setting, and your characters are so wild. I miss Lady Prilly, but this new story you're telling in San Pineda has already caught me.

@natolesims Your NSB has so much personality. Grey is a lot of fun. I hope we'll see Tiana soon. Ella's story really gripped me, and Tiana's was shaping up to be just as intense. Plus, your Disney simalikes are spot on.

@oasislandingresident You're a big reason why I discovered I like longer lifespans! I fell into the all-to-common trap of assuming everything had to be generational. You can discover very different stories when you give sims more space to live.

@pudding-parade You make some of the prettiest sims I have ever seen. I've downloaded about half a dozen worlds from your world reviews, and I'm not even sure what I'm going to do with them.

@queeniecook I can't wait to meet Vera and Caleb's baby. You've got us all in suspense. Your story is such a fun combination of adventure, intrigue, and domesticity. Also, so many pregnancy photo shoots. 😆

@nocturnalazure Last on this list but not least, I think your story is the first one I found on tumblr that I became a passionate fan of. I honestly think in another universe it would be a great TV adventure drama. I jump whenever I see something new on the tteot tag. Thanks for the story.

Thanks to everyone, and to the folks I've forgotten and will feel guilty about later. 😅

[neonscandal]

Thanks for answering my ask from a few weeks ago @neonscandal ..... If you don't mind me asking (again), what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before....

Thank you for asking in the first place! ❤️

Not at all unique is the fact that, as soon as I get asked a question about my top faves, I immediately draw a blank on everything I've ever enjoyed or watched, ever. 😅 I'm sure that's not the first time you've heard that. No need to apologize, as you can probably tell from other asks, my answers change regularly. This is my anime/manga blog so without any regard for order:

Life Lessons with Uramichii-Oniisan (anime) - depending on how old you are, there's a cognitive dissonance that occurs when you're no longer younger than nor the same age as your favorite protagonists in the stories you grew up with. This is the anime that eases the blow of that like the ibuprofen you now keep at home, at work and in your purse. And it's hysterical.

Attack on Titan (anime/manga) - There is something to be said for the eloquence of the exposition in this story which, when you know Isayama spent years shopping his art around to no avail because of the roughness of his style, makes perfect sense. While refining his art, he had all this time to pore over the story, hide little easter eggs so there'd be one string that gathered up all seeming loose ends. Just an incredibly interesting story to unfold. It's the kind of thing you wish you could read again for the first time but that's laughable because, every time you read it, you notice something you hadn't the last time.

To Your Eternity (anime) - This is the Grey's Anatomy equivalent in anime. Like, oh. You're emotionally constipated and need a good cry? Pick an episode at random. Watch a whole season if you're really about that life.

Sasaki to Miyano (manga/anime) - TBH I tied between this or Horimiya. They are not the same story but hold similar places in my heart. What I love about Sasaki to Miyano is how delicate it is. Yea, slow burn, whatever. But no, it just kind of gives Miyano space to come to terms with himself and Sasaki is the safety net that accepts him in all forms. Can love be this sweet?

Goodbye, Eri (manga) - Fujimoto is off the wall. Chainsaw Man is an excellent representation of that. Seemingly unfocused and always good for some sort of shock factor. I've been wanting to write, for some time, about how Fujimoto is like a trickster of a genie but I'll shelve that for the time being. Goodbye, Eri's disjointed narrative as if told in photographs and the art style which shows movement despite its static medium. It's a really elegant piece with a plot twist you don't see coming because, of course you don't. That, in fact, is part of the whole message of the story, isn't it?

Ranma 1/2 (anime) - Nostalgia. This was the first anime I ever watched that I locked into. It started me on a path of drawing, it encouraged me to seek out other shows.. this series is what started it all wayyy back then (okay, not that far back then, this was in the 00's). Tsundere x tsundere, yes but also just the immediate identification with characters who couldn't authentically be themselves because they kept bending and breaking under external pressures. I could very much relate and empathize even if the chaos of their universe was too fanciful for my own. Also, pretty sure Rumiko Takahashi is the longest running mangaka with consistent chapters in Shonen Jump for the last 40+ years is wild.

Vinland Saga (anime) - I honestly don't even know what to say about this story. But I think my favorite observation is a post I saw someone make where they wrote "No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle" with a picture of Thorfinn. And they were so poignantly right. Phenomenally twisted revenge story that is not at all satisfying. 10/10.

Link Clink (donghua) - This show is a vibe. If it hasn't been on a recommendation list yet, it's coming. The music, the art, the unfurling back story of the main characters as they untangle the lives of others? It manages to be both gutting and cerebral at the same time. Like every time I watch I'm like... I need to read the source material because the complexity of the concurrent storylines makes it such a head scratcher as to the larger plot.

Jujutsu Kaisen (anime/manga) - *Gestures vaguely to the rest of my blog.* We're still in the throes of how this story is going to play out which is nerve wracking and exciting for all its possibilities. I hold out a lot of hope that we'll see some stunning exposition in future chapters that we won't see coming.

Belle (anime) - It's just beautiful. 😘👌🏾 I talk a lot about my niece and nephew because I've turned them into my dorky little mini-me's. Also, being an aunt is like the best job. Belle is a movie that had them both gagged with the animation. If a show or series can get both of them to put their ipads, books, art supplies, etc. down, then I know I put them onto something special. Honestly, anything I enjoy with them makes it that much more special to me, personally.

This was lovely. I'll get back to posting lists soon, feel free to check out other recommendations!

[itssimplythesims]

Current project! 🐠

Do you ever find yourself wanting to show up and share more of your writing, stories, and the day-to-day of your characters' lives, but then you run into the dilemma of not having anywhere to take pics...so you resort back to the blank walls of a studio? 🫥

(psst...also taking suggestions below the cut.)

That was me all last year, so I've made it my 2023 mission 🚀 to build us some really epic sets, finally complete my version of Twinbrook, and start posting the stuff I've been talking about posting for years. (More Ryan pics, anyone? 👀)

The even better news? I'll be sharing my creations with you, too! Imagine sending your OC to space, exploring the wonders of an aquarium, or adventuring through a wooded forest. I'm hoping that having these places available to you will inspire you to create something new, and I can't wait to see what you'll make of them!

–––

The Aquarium:

This aquarium has been a labor of love. I had to learn how to build a multi-story pool and finally, after years of avoidance, create objects with glass (thank you @murfeelee for the tutorial!). I've also spent countless hours converting sea creatures, and the submersed tunnel is actually an illusion 🫢 I had to create a backdrop of water overhead because I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to build a pool only on the second floor. Even so, I'm super happy with the results and look forward to sharing the rest of it with you! The aquarium will have a gift shop, touch pool (for the tots), and...any requested areas? I'm open to suggestions!

[floatinginzerogravity]

I did an Analysis of the Murder Drones Pilot for my friends and am deciding to post it: Pt.1

Okie, It's Murder Drones explanation time

okay, first of all, I've waited LITERAL MONTHS to do this, and WILL be pointing out every tiny detail, and would very much love to do this with every episode. (I am happy stimming so much right now)

If you don't feel like reading all this, I can provide a condensed version. I will just send a wall of text, I will fill it with my theories and goofy bg details, I will send excessive screenshots of the characters, and I will not feel shame. Be warned

so, The year is 3000 something, and humanity has been colonizing other planets, using half-sentient worker drone robots to mine them. Humanity then blows up the planet by accident (oops)

Just for clarity, this is not earth, it's a completely separate planet around 70 light years away called Copper 9 (Side note, it's technically impossible for a moon to have rings. oops, the show is scientifically inaccurate, it's ruined now/j) Anyway, the core collapse killed all humans and turned the atmosphere into a "toxic death storm" (description lovingly borrowed from N) The Worker drones, now free from human control, discovered their sentience. They build a society based on the human one before it, with families, schools, and all the other stuff

The Robot Sentience side tangent: Liam Vickers, show creator, when asked about the Drone's sentience- "It was kind of a basic, limited version... the disaster that happened on their planet that kind of left them kind of stranded, kind of played into their adaptive AI abilities.... You need a sort of intelligence to not fall over... it expands to keeping them alive in various circumstances" Basically, they were programmed to do certain tasks, and when humanity was wiped out, their goals changed and they were given the space to find their own sentience. Sentience can also occur if they're in an environment that promotes sentience or if their damaged/corrupted in some way

JCJenson (in Spaaaaccce) (aka the company that created the drones and runs colonization. The name of the company is also, apparently, based on a cleaning company. BCBoston or something) Decides they don't like sentient AI running around and sends Disassembly Drones to Copper 9 to wipe them out

(Text: "CALCULATING, MOST PROBABLE DEITY TO PRAY TO)

The implication here is that the blue guy threw his child when the attacks started. (I think the fandom named him Bob or something similar) This is the first example of the A+ parenting of Murder Drones characters.

V's just perched on a lampost lol. Very Creature™️ of her

Bg text #3 I guess

[Text: Photo cred: some dead dude lol] [Text: "dying is stupid and also dumb" -me, idk]

[Text: How do we fix this in a complicated Sci-fi way] So, Uzi wants to fight, and everyone else wants to hide, basic plot stuff, moving on

Her railgun has stickers lol

[Text: "Violently opposed to biological life" The rest is readable]

Khan (Uzi's dad) being the worst™️, an image collection

Something that will forever irk me until the day I die is why a robot has Testosterone????? Don't they not even have biological genders, or biology, like, at all???? I don't think robots need hormones, bud

I once saw someone point out that this is probably one of the first times someone has been nice to Uzi, as she has no friends, is bullied, and her father is a bit neglectful <- Understatement (I do want to say that Khan isn't as bad as most of the fandom seems to think he is. Doesn't mean he's good either, though)

Baby's first "Bite me", I'm so proud. (Fun fact, in Spanish she says "Jodete", which translates to "Fuck you!" )

HSDHJDSFNJKDSHJDFHGJFGBKJDFDKJG WHY DO YOU HAVE HORMONES?????? YOUR FREAKING ROBOTS???!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYYY (Plot: Uzi says that she plans to sneak out to find the last part for her railgun, and in the next scene she is waking up at 3:00am to do just that) Now time for deciphering Uzi's sticky notes

[Text: To do: >Talk to source

>...

>(I can't read the rest)] [Text: RESEARCH: How to turn "REALLY sad all the time" into "Look really cool"]

[Text: LIMAL NO 4EYA!!!!!] <- I have no clue what this means [Text:Murder ??? Matter ???? really at c?????] <- Again, no clue what this means

[Text: Uzi Dos-] [Text: Yeaahhhh, I'm not reading that]

Location: Khan's closet where Uzi steals the "Door Master" key from

"Yeah, everyone has a picture of their family where one member is mysteriously ripped out in their closet."/s -Liam Vickers, paraphrased from a reddit AMA

[Text: WDF of outpost 9 [Having faithfully made a slab of metal that can be a wall but also not a wall, on the 11th day of December, three thousand and ???]

[Text: You cannot be murdered by scary robots when .... a door, (unless they open it) A scientific]

I find it interesting that the DD's are referred to as "Murder Drones," which is not their technical name. It seems to be something only the WD colonies use

Fun fact: this line is a bit of a meme in the MD community

Plot: Uzi manages to lie her way out of the WD colony, enters the Corpse Spire, and finds the required part for her railgun. As she goes to leave, she's attacked by a DD, who she defeats with her railgun, only for it's head to regenerate.

[khaleesa]

Writing prompts: 11!

I haven't written a word since I finished Guidance Counseling, but this prompt ("just once") finally inspired me! Thank you for submitting it! And thanks to @bratanimus for giving it a once-over. <3

==

Tomorrowland

The rocketship slide, layered with decades of chipped paint and rust, would've been a better vantage point to watch the Creel house for the signal, but Chrissy couldn't bring herself to approach it. Eddie, on the other hand, thundered up the metal slide like an overgrown boy showing off on the playground--which was probably exactly what he was doing. Goofball. She had no such urge and was drawn instead to the ramshackle picnic table tucked beneath the sheltering canopy of the old sugar maples, near a light post that she hoped to God still worked. It would be dark soon. 

In spite of the very serious--not to mention scary--circumstances that brought them here, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she watched Eddie flail and narrowly avoid falling off the top of the slide when he attempted to crouch beneath the child-sized opening of the rocket. The hatch? It was so weird how they barely knew each other--had never talked before last Friday--but somehow he could make her feel comfortable even in truly uncomfortable situations. 

He bumped his forehead on a metal bar, swore, and rubbed it dramatically as he turned to face her. 

"Laughing at my misery, Cunningham?" he called down to her. "I knew it--you're a sadist!"

"I am not!" Chrissy retorted, groaning inwardly at how lame that sounded. 

They should probably be more quiet; the team inside had planned on absolute silence until the time came to draw out Vecna. Could he hear beyond the dilapidated walls of the old house? 

A shudder rippled down Chrissy's spine. She didn't want to think about Vecna yet. It was hard not to, though, with the darkened windows of the run-down house staring like hollow eyes in skeleton faces. She was glad she wasn't looking at them dead-on. She didn't like how they seemed to be fixed on Eddie. 

Scary as it was, the Creel house also made her feel heavy with sadness. Once upon a time, it had been pretty. Ladies wearing dresses with puffed sleeves and trailing skirts and hair pinned up in elegant styles had sipped tea in the front parlor, while children in lacy pinafores and knickerbockers played in the garden. Later, in the fifties probably, someone had built the space-age playground. It would've looked a little like Disneyland, with pastel Victorian Main Street, USA perched just around the corner from Tomorrowland. There was nothing magical about this, however--except for back magic. The Unhappiest Place on Earth. 

"You okay?"

Chrissy's gaze darted from the house back to the slide, where Eddie stood at the top of the stairs, frozen with that same look of concern that had taken her so much by surprise that day in the forest. You okay? he'd asked then, too. Other people had asked that since she’d started having her episodes--Jason, her friends on the cheer squad--but Eddie was the first one who'd actually seemed to give a damn, to make her feel like maybe she could explain, and maybe he'd get it.

If he hadn't exactly gotten it then, he definitely did now. Chrissy felt just terrible that she'd dragged him into this horror movie that her life had become. Even if he did work awfully hard to make people think he was mean and scary. 

He didn't look scary now, though. He just looked…scared. Like he thought her eyes might glaze and she'd start levitating again, and this time…No. More things she didn't want to think about right now. 

Maybe she could do what Eddie was so good at. Make him feel comfortable. 

She sat up straight--no easy feat on the bowed and off-balance picnic table bench--shoulders back, chin raised, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm a little offended that you think I'm a sadist." 

Eddie barked out a laugh and bounded down the slide steps, skipping a few, and over to the opposite side of the picnic table. He slapped his palms on the surface and leaned forward, eyes dark and gazing down at her. Chrissy had read about men flashing lascivious grins before; now, she finally had a real-life picture of what that meant.

"I didn't say sadism was a bad thing." Eddie's grin somehow grew even wider as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Did he hear how sharply Chrissy drew in her breath? Could he see the flush that prickled like a sunburn across her cheeks and ears? Thank goodness for the long shadows cast by the sunset, and that the light post over the table still hadn't turned on. She wracked her brain for a clever response, but Eddie leering down at her was too distracting, and she was totally out of her league when it came to knowledge from dirty magazines and movies. Anyway, Eddie seemed thrilled to have rendered her speechless. Somehow, this didn't make her feel dumb, like Jason did when he knew things she didn't. Eddie just got a kick out of scandalizing her, or corrupting her innocence, or something. 

And over the last couple of days, Chrissy was learning she got a kick out of being scandalized, or corrupted, or something by Eddie.

The light mood didn't last long. Eddie's grin faded as he trudged around the picnic table to straddle the bench next to her. For a moment, they contemplated the Creel house in silence. Eerie silence; no doves cooed in the tree limbs above, no crickets chirped in the unmowed playground grass. Chrissy was about to comment on how weird this was, when Eddie spoke, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. 

"Me and the band…" He trailed away as the lighter snicked and the end of the cigarette flared.

Although Chrissy wasn't a fan of stale, old cigarette smell, she liked fresh smoke. Now, it brought the reassurance that she wasn't the only living thing here, that Eddie was warm and alive beside her. She felt herself shifting a little closer to him, her knee bumping one of his.

Pocketing the lighter, Eddie took a drag, then removed the cigarette to exhale, smoke wreathing him as he went on. "We always talked about having this dump as an album cover. Or shooting a music video here. It's creepy as shit."

Chrissy nodded her agreement. "I feel kind of silly for ever thinking the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland is spooky." 

Eddie blew out another puff of smoke. "You've been to Disneyland?" 

"Just once. Have you?"

"Nope." He popped the p definitively; it almost seemed to echo in the quiet of the playground.

"It's probably not your kind of place." 

Eddie sat back, a deep frown tugging at his features, buckling his forehead. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" 

Chrissy flushed as she realized how that sounded. Not like she'd meant it at all. "Just that it's cheesy fantasy stuff. For kids." 

Eddie's shoulders relaxed, and a grin slanted across his face. "Cunningham. What do you think Dungeons and Dragons is? Honestly, Disneyland sounds right up my alley." 

That wasn't exactly in line with how he and Dustin had explained Dungeons and Dragons to her, but Chrissy was just relieved he wasn't offended anymore. "But you wouldn't think the Haunted Mansion is even a little bit scary," she said. "Not compared to all those movies you like." 

Eddie seemed to consider this as he smoked, turning his head toward the Creel House. "After this week, I think maybe I've had enough horror shit." 

Chrissy's heart gave a squeeze in her chest, but before her guilt could take hold, Eddie's fingers closed around her knee, and she found herself looking into his dark, glittering eyes again. 

"Tell you what," he said. "If I graduate? We're going to Disneyland." 

An image sprang into Chrissy's mind of the two of them strolling toward Sleeping Beauty Castle, Eddie in denim and leather and chains and Mickey Mouse ears. But that wasn't what made Chrissy let out a shriek of delighted laughter, then clap her hand over her mouth lest Vecna hear them or Eddie somehow read her mind and think she was making fun of him. Or it wasn't only that. If I graduate, he'd said, not, If we make it out of this alive. Graduation came after. They would have an after. 

"Not if you graduate, Eddie," she said. "When." 

Eddie smiled--not the maniacal, teeth-baring grin, but biting his lip, ducking his head, hair falling in his face. He leaned in, close enough that Chrissy could smell the cigarette on his breath. She wanted to taste it on his lips. 

"And, uh, if the Haunted Mansion gets too spooky for you…you can…" His tongue darted out to lick his lips. "...hold my hand." 

His gaze dropped, and Chrissy saw his hand had moved from her knee, close to hers on the bench. His pinky touched the side of her hand. She flicked hers out to touch it. 

In the dormer window of the Creel house, a light flashed on, and they both sat up. The signal.

"But I'm the one who'll probably be shitting my pants," Eddie rasped.

Gripped with a sudden courage and decisiveness, Chrissy stood up. "Then you can hold my hand," she said, and twined their fingers together. 

~*~

If you'd like a fic, drop a prompt in my asks!

[dragon-queen21]

Little Maya & caregiver Phoenix mini fic

Half finished ace attorney fic I have another half of this with Miles coming and taking the two of them to lunch, but I don't know how to end it properly :< once I do I'll post this the full thing on ao3 :3

~~~

“Maya?”

The girl hummed, clearly only half listening to Phoenix

“What are you doing with the broom?”

“Nothin’.” Maya said not at all convincingly, spinning said dust broom around herself in a sloppy arch.

Phoenix sighed heavily, eyes casting towards the piles of paperwork that he still had to finish. He had the feeling that his partner was no longer going to help him. “Just, please don’t hurt yourself.” He muttered.

“I won’t! I’m the steal samurai! Nothin’ hurts me!” She cheered, running around the office space once more. “Ka-chow! Bam! Waaahh!” She voiced out the sound effects she was making as she fought off against an unseen enemy with her broom turned samurai sword.

Phoenix watched for a moment with amusement, turning back to his work shortly after. He highly doubted that the teen would stop even if he told her she was being distracting. Which was fine. She needed a break anyways. It was getting close to noon now. If he could just get through a couple more pages he’d stop and ask the girl if she wanted to go anywhere special for lunch. Until then…

"Phoeeeeeeeniiiiiiiixxxxx"

"Huh?"

Maya flopped dramatically over his desk.

“I thought you were just playing.” He looked up towards the clock on the wall. It hadn’t even been 15 minutes.

"I'm boooooored!”

"You and me both kiddo."

"Then come play with me! We can find you a sword as well!"

"I don't think it would be wise if we both started swinging around brooms." he frowned. "In fact, you really shouldn't be doing that either, you're going to get hurt and you're going to blame me."

“I wouldn’t do that!”

He gives her a look, one that Maya pointedly avoids. "You would to and we both know it. Go find something safer to play with."

Maya huffed. "You're just boring, and mean!"

He had been working on filling out paper work for the past 2 and a half hours. It was no doubt that Maya started to get bored. But Phoenix couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy at just how easy the girl was able to entertain herself. He eyed the seemingly never-ending pile of paper work. He scribbled his signature on the page he was working on before setting it to the side. He couldn’t in good measure leave his little one on her own while he was stuck working on paper work. What would Maya’s sister say to him if he continued to let her run around unsupervised?

“Fine. Fine. You win.”

"Gonna play?!"

"Yup, taking a break for the day." He got into a mock battle stance. "Show me your worst."

"Rawr!" Maya ran at him, ditching the broom at the last second to instead tackle the mentally older.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book: a new term

saturday, sept 2 — sunday, oct 1, 2023

been running around and then lolling around and then running some more, and the last time i really understood what day it was i think it was aug 28?? though i have gotten a new wall calendar for my room so hopefully that...makes a difference?

anyway. lots of things viewed, read, played etc., but this is the ilcb where i talk about michael sheen's sex show. y'all have been warned.

reading finished this month:

light from uncommon stars, ryka aoki — there was a lot about this one to like, and lots of things that i think...could have worked better? the dialogue stood out to me as weirdly stilted. the author got so much good, fluid, lyrical writing into the descriptions of the violin maker, all the meaningful resonances of the violin, and everything else kind of paled to that. a lot of vision in this one, and hopefully readers who are less picky than i am will be able to chill out and enjoy the representation, the demons and space and music and donuts.

the empress of salt and fortune, nghi vo (audio) — stunning. short, but suggests/captures an entire world. adored the emphasis on little artifacts and material details, the flashes of actual history and the absolutely elegant touches of fantasy.

clouds of witness, dorothy l. sayers (audio) — a lord peter wimsey mystery is always a wonderful excuse to listen to a voice actor just go nuts with posh RP accents, but i do miss my girl harriet even as i know that i'm reading all the prequels on purpose :(

one last stop, casey mcquiston —i didn't think i liked casey mcquiston before, but this book was genuinely a delight. is this how everyone felt about rwrb? the romance tropes worked for me this time, the dialogue here felt natural and fun (especially the secondary characters), and the little turns of phrase and comparisons and twists hit just like you'd hope. the history! the queer community! the roommates! and you know what, fuck it. a little tooth-rotting fluff can be good for the soul.

listening bounced off of the new olivia rodrigo (sorry 😥) and the new chappell roan (sorry sorry 😥) and won't be trying to articulate why for now, haven't spent enough time with the new mitski (liked it on the first listen though) so this section of the post is going to go to noah kahan's stick season, which i have listened to on repeat for the last few weeks. i think i've got a favorite song chosen, only to notice something new about another one—it's not just 'northern attitude' and 'homesick,' though obviously the lines 'i'm mean because i grew up in new england' and 'i was raised out in the cold' / 'i was raised on little light' do fucking resonate. but so does. most of it.

at some point i have added both 'halloween' and 'the view between villages' to my liked songs, and for some reason i get a real kick out of the line in 'new perspective' about calling an intersection downtown just because it's gotten a target. but anyway here's 'stick season', simply for the line 'and i'll dream each night / of some version of you / that i might not have / but i did not lose.'

watching masters of sex (2013). if i'm honest, this is a little bit of a dodge—i watched the entire first season of this show back at the beginning of the month, it fully took over my staycation cat-sitting gig time, and then i haven't been able to get back to it now that i'm home. i think i'm scared to dip back in, honestly? because i can't let myself get sucked back in that strongly.

this show is maddening. it's fascinating. don't ask me if it's good. it's based on this book by thomas maier, which i may have to actually read, because i keep getting distracted wondering about how much the script is changing, adapting, etc. i've taken my intro psych class (and then some), i had to read about masters and johnson, and i feel like the show must be taking liberties— but also, is it?

this show isn't mad men, but it does have that period midcentury / postwar aesthetic, and they do a very good job mentioning bits of history/current events that tie it to the actual history. and there is actual history here, and i love that. but also, i have never been this aware of a show making choices for baldly strategic reasons— you can so tell that this show was written for weekly release, plot threads come and happen for an episode or two at most, only then to be either dropped (for future use if necessary?) or solved.

then again, there's some very competent and tightly-constructed stories, e.g. the episode about the nuclear attack drill and how everyone behaved, how it did and did not matter to them, how their worlds were and weren't also symbolically ending in the intertwined subplots. also a big fan of the one where they're hearing about the new research on the female orgasm! and freud! it's so interesting to have this all framed as ~the frontiers of science!~ and then see how in some ways it's more progressive than you'd expect (than we are today still, on primetime).

the other lead, lizzy caplan, is new to me, but she kills it, kills it, as ginny johnson. allison janney is in this?! caitlin fitzgerald aka tabitha from succession is in this? see what i mean, like half the cast is people who either were in big prestige tv enterprises or who would go on to be, which to me says something about the way this show was viewed as a good move for your acting career in 2013. (link to a piece of historical journalism discussing this show and nbc hannibal as not-to-be-missed viewing for 2013. wild.)

i've never thought this much about how television has changed from the early 2010s to now. this feels like a bridge, connecting pre-peak TV to where we've ended up, where it's not as 'prestige-y' as it would be now, but is still going for the sophistication and intensity. michael sheen wears a funny little bow tie and got a golden globe nom for this, but he could not be further from aziraphale here—it's like watching a totally different person (acting_patrickstewart.gif), he smiles so little and is routinely so awful to various women in his life, including those he purports to love. i distract myself watching him make acting choices in response to some of the (frankly wild) things that they've given masters to say and do, and that's. all i'll say about that.

okay that was mortifying. let's move on.

playing have now completed (for the second time) the first act investigations in pentiment, with new scenes unlocked (the spinning bee! storytime with brother sebhat! midnight in the library!) and still not a solid answer to the mystery. methinks there is a message there, but we won't know for sure until i can next find a time for me to continue with either of my play-through companions. when i play with A, we make choices based on 'i would never pick that if i was playing on my own, but since you're here, you'll be the voice of chaos egging me on,' which if nothing else has led to a lot of cackling.

things this game also excels at, besides narrating women's stories and moral ambiguity: animating children and animals. we shook hands with this dog and it was perfect.

making hungry for a handicraft. sewed a bra back together (unpictured), glued a handle back onto this little ceramic pitcher, glued a hairclip back to its backing and a slipper sole back to its upper slipper (all hail having appropriate adhesives for a job!) watched as squirrels made a meal of the valiant, late-blooming tomatoes.

working on the court romances chapter has a new direction, but it does feel a little like an albatross around my neck at this point. i sent my committee the body and soul debates chapter, but at my most recent meeting it was clear most of them hadn't finished reading it so the discussion was largely 'where's chapter 2? why isn't that here also?' they still gave me the equivalent of a little pat on the head and said 'keep going', so. i'm taking drastic steps (enlisting other on campus resources, my therapist, etc.) to try and fucking make some fucking progress.

[sambambucky]

writing pattern tag!

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

😇 'ello and thank you for tagging me @crepuscularqueens !!! idk who is still doing these, bt i'll never be annoyed over getting tagged

to be good for you (would be the end of me)

Three superheroes, a dozen Shield agents, a deacon, and a self-proclaimed witch all leave the conference room while Steve stays in his chair, stewing.

too many white lies (and white lines)

Sam’s kissed a lot of people, but Bucky’s tongue in his mouth is a revelation. It’s been forever since he’s wanted to kiss someone like this, aimless and idle. Exploring for the hell of it, pressing into all the little places that make him gasp and moan, just because he wants to, because he can. 

a fair day's work

Sam zones out as Walker talks, trying to identify the smudges on the plexiglass between them. There’s a greasy quality to them, but the shape and position don’t make any sense if they’re just fingerprints.

sorta weird, kinda nice

This mission is a weird one.

the sum of every moment

For most of Sam’s life, it seemed like the only person to ever leave Delacroix was his brother, Gideon. And like the rest of his family, Sam couldn’t understand why anyone would want to abandon everyone to go somewhere and be lonely. Why would anyone leave the state and everything they knew just for something as boring as a job?

the impossible weight of maybe

“Settle a bet for me, will ya big guy?”

what're you gonna do, put me in time out?

Bucky tracks Peter’s loop around the crowded gymnasium, and decides to leave him his space for now. The six-year-old is running around in a broad figure eight, an elaborate paper airplane held proud and high above his head. Bucky can’t help the grin that settles onto his face, but he can keep his arms crossed and one foot propped up against the wall he’s been leaning against.

i'm only trying to get you home

Sam’s birthday party starts in a handful of hours and Bucky’s completely failed at getting him a present — hasn’t even picked up a card. He’s been stressing for over a week, and now he’s absolutely run out of time to do anything special.

we won't look too closely

Sam finally catches his breath from laughing. When his breath settles into something manageable, he shares a winded smile with Bucky on the other side of the jacuzzi.

patterns of recognition

The Asset is assigned a new mission. The files outline all relevant details and compulsory results.

okok... patterns....... i'm seeing commas, so many commas, i love you commas,,, also idk i love just dropping in. theres that old post about how fan fic is so fun because you dont have to do as much worldbuilding or character explaining and i think about that all the time and i think that shows in these openings

tagggginggggg........ @writerkenna, @questinwitchface, who else... is... if you want to be tagged babey youre tagged!

[borealisbarbie]

borealis

chapter 1.: for now, it's time to run chapter tags: queer (m/m), sci fi, heists, kidnapping, referenced human experimentation, grumpy x bitchy, angst chapter warnings: implied noncon body modification, technical kidnapping, gun violence, language, mild gore, PTSD word count: 4243 A/N: the first chapter of my baby is here and ready to be shared! this is the first original work i'm posting in more than 5 years so i'm super excited to finally start sharing her with you all!

playlist || pinterest || masterlist

   Every time he had to break into a building Dawson was acutely jealous of the shows and movies he’d watched as a kid— his life would be so much smoother if he could just slide through a couple air vents and be done with it! But no, instead here he was, 2am on a Thursday, knee deep in piles of whatever undoubtedly filthy laundry an illegal medical laboratory produced. Not his favorite way to enter a place, but it was one less code to remember— just a single key to lift off of an unaware janitor. The face mask he wore felt inadequate, but it would have to do. 

  The laundry facilities were on the very bottom floor of the lab, but Dawson’s target was only a few floors up— packed up and ready to be transported for sale tomorrow morning, according to Dawson’s employer. He didn’t know what, exactly, it was that he was stealing, but he wasn’t in any position to turn down a job that paid this much. He made his way swiftly down the hall and up the barren stairwell— which had required a convoluted code to open— in silence. The stairwell opened into a short hallway, only three doors occupying the limited space. He strode towards the 2nd door on the left, as his intel had instructed, and input yet another door code. The little blinking blue light swiftly turned green and the door slid open, bringing a satisfied smirk to the thief’s face. That smirk drops when he takes in the contents of the small room. Whipping his phone out of his breast pocket, he pulls up the single blurry shot of the case he’s supposed to be looking at.

   That shitty fucking intel, is all Dawson can think, looking from the picture of his target on his phone back to the large metal crate looking thing that stood in the center of the cargo hold. He was here for a weapon, sure, but a fancy gun or laser sword, not something he would need a damn forklift to move. The crate had a number pad on its side, which would explain the extra passcode he’d been given. He lays his gun down within easy reach inputs the code, wincing as each button press emits a loud ping sound. It’s an obnoxiously long code too, even for some high-tech government laboratory, but finally he types in the last digit and hits enter. The box’s seams glow an ominous red before blinking to green, and there is the hiss of hydraulics before the lid of the box lifts and recedes on its own. Thick clouds of fog rise and quickly dissipate, revealing the contents; his target. It’s not a gun like he had hoped, or a bomb, or even a tiny, mysterious microchip. 

   It’s a dude. A curled slip of man, nude and nestled into perfectly cut out insulating foam. Dawson inhaled sharply, taking a step back. Because what the fuck. What the fuck was this? Was he stealing a corpse? Apparently not, because just as he goes to step closer, reaching out a hand to check for a pulse, the still form suddenly heaves a ragged breath and flies into a frenzy of movement, flinging himself from the box in a panic. Dawson reaches blindly behind himself for his gun on the table, clicking off the safety and pointing it at the man— fuck the payout, he wasn’t about to be mauled or maimed by some feral lab experiment! The man doesn’t attack though, instead scuttling backwards until he hits the wall, wild gaze flitting about and taking in his surroundings with an expression of pained confusion. When his gaze settles on Dawson the thief clutches his gun tighter and lets out a hissed curse; because those eyes are not human eyes. They shine an unnatural shade of teal, and the pupils shift and dilate like the lens of a camera. Mechanical. 

   But not one like anything Dawson has seen before, not even the fancy pretty ones the wealthy like to flaunt online. He’s breathing for one, still dragging in labored and brittle breaths, and sweat drips down his face, dampening unkempt curls. There’s an air of humanity to him that shouldn’t be possible in a mechanical.

“Who are you?” Dawson finally grits out, knowing that the clock is ticking and he doesn't really have time for an in-depth interrogation. The man just recoils further against the wall, though his breathing does at last appear to be mellowing out. A glance down at his watch shows that he has exactly 17 minutes to make his escape before the change of the security guards. “Fine, don’t talk. Look, I've got less than 20 minutes to get out of here so it looks like you’re coming with me. I was expecting a nice little carrying case, but I can make this work.” Still no reaction. Dawson feels a little bad for the mech— inhuman or not, the fear in his face and body language is palpable. He lowers his gun with a sigh before coming forward to kneel in front of the man, meeting his gaze with what he hopes is a reassuring expression— he’s not the expert on comforting scared people. There’s a barely audible hum as the mans’ eyes focus on Dawson, repeating that same camera lens effect.

“Look, clearly I don't know what’s going on here and neither do you, but I don't think you want to hang around here— they had you locked in a box in a basement. Something fucked up is happening here, and you can either come with me, or you can stay and try explaining to them how you got out of that box on your own. I don’t think the people here would be very happy with you escaping, do you?” And yeah, maybe it’s cruel to manipulate him like this, but whatever got him off of the floor and got them out of the lab was good enough for Dawson.

“Juno.” he blinks at the abrupt tone, but nods anyway. He— Juno, apparently— could speak, at least. 

“Great. Nice to meet you Juno, I’m Dawson. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” And with that, Dawson stands yet again, this time taking Juno by the wrist and pulling him up to stand too. It’s sheer luck that hanging on the back of the chair in the otherwise barren room is an abandoned lab coat— he swiftly covers the mech’s nude form with the white fabric and instructs him to keep close and keep quiet, before leading them out of the room. 

   The long reaching hall is still blessedly empty as far as Dawson can tell, and it should remain so for the next five minutes— enough time to get them to the ground floor. Gun at the ready he pulls an annoyingly slow-paced Juno along— the smallest thing seems to distract the mech, as if they are not currently trying to escape a life or death (or unpleasant jail time) situation. They reach a fork, the hallway splitting into two identical paths. The map Dawson’s employer had provided said to go to the left, but Juno refuses to follow, digging his bare heels into the ground when Dawson tries to jerk him along.

“Not that way.” the mech unhelpfully says, a mulish expression on his face. He tilts his head in a way that suggests he is listening to something, and that something is evidently not Dawson— or anything Dawson can hear, because both halls are silent. “This way.” and he shifts his hand so he is the one holding onto Dawson now and, much to the thief’s chagrin, tugs him along without any effort, taking the right hall. They come to a stop in front of a closed door, which doesn’t budge when Dawson jiggles the handle. 

“A dead end, seriously?” he hisses at the now bored looking mech. “I have been studying the schematics of this building for the last three months, kid, our way out was the other hallway!” He’s about to throw the mech over his shoulder and carry him to the proper exit fireman style, when Juno none too gently shoves him aside and gives the door handle a single firm yank. There is the sharp sound of wood cracking before the door gives way, swinging open, easy as anything now that a skinny little mechanical has just ripped the locking mechanism out of the damn door. 

“Faster. And no cameras.” He gently sets the door handle and its guts on the ground, before gesturing for Dawson to lead the way once again. Something was seriously wrong with this mech and the way he functioned, but there was no time for him to ponder that. Quickly familiarizing himself with this portion of the map, Dawson manages to navigate himself and the mech up to the first floor. Which was where things were going to get seriously tricky. Where the bottom levels had been paroled by a barebones crew, the main floors were much more stringently supervised— guards patrolled each end of each level in synchronized pairs, armed to the teeth in the latest tech and paid handsomely enough that there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do for the company. Their escape would have to be timed perfectly, and helpful as he could apparently be, there was no time for deviations from Juno.

“You do what I say from here on out, got it? I’m not about to die because you think you found a shortcut.” The mech nods, but the mulish expression is back— quite the contrast from the trembling, fear filled thing he’d been just a few minutes ago. Time would tell if it was a welcome change. “And— hey, this is important—” he adds sharply, noting the mech’s gaze beginning to wander once again, this time distracted by the rattling of the air con. “If I get shot, or if they catch me? Don’t fucking leave me to die, got it? I am not getting paid enough to die for you. You come back for me.” The mech nods and it’s go time.

   Dawson’s favorite kind of jobs were the ones where he got to break out the fancy equipment— harnesses for repelling down buildings, gadgets to disable alarm systems or cut through the glass of windows or display cases. But sadly, this was not that sort of job. Initially, his escape plan was to walk out completely undetected after going back the way he came, but by now someone was sure to have noticed Juno’s little door demolishment; it was only a matter of time before security was alerted of their presence. And unfortunately, he wasn't exactly able to tuck the mech into a backpack or pocket like he could have with his typical targets. So instead they had to do things the much more dangerous, life-threatening way, and tiptoe through the halls just as they emptied of guards, letting the timing of the guards’ schedule do the heavy lifting for them. So long as they didn’t do anything overt or loud, they were in the clear.

   So of course. Of course Juno— who walked so silently Dawson could almost forget he was there if not for the bruising grip he had on his hand— slips on the slick tile, letting out a small cry as his ankle twists. It’s faint, but it’s a noise, and that’s all it takes for the sound of boots pounding in their direction to pick up. With a curse Dawson pushes the mech more fully behind him, sandwiched between his back and the wall, and clicks the safety off his gun once again. He can feel the mech breathing harshly against his neck, and thin fingers dig painfully into his hand as two guards come from each direction, cornering them with guns drawn. Dawson notes that they do not aim at them, despite clearly having the upper hand.

“Who are you, how did you get access to this floor?” One guard barks while another approaches, pulling handcuffs from his belt and reaching for Juno. And that, apparently, is the wrong thing to do, because the mech’s gaze snaps to the guard’s hand, and in the space of what can only be a few seconds the mech darts a hand out and grabs the guard, pulling him in close before flinging him bodily towards the other set of guards, sending them all tumbling down into a pile of limbs. The remaining guard, the one with the gun, quickly descends into panic, waving his gun around and shouting. Still, no actual shots are fired. Dawson is torn between trying to talk his way out of this or just knocking him out when Juno makes an executive decision. Hand outstretched like a superhero in one of the old movies Dawson watched as a kid, unnerving gaze glowing, and a little ball of light grows in his hand, giving off sparks and increasing in size until it’s on par with a large marble. The mech— or whatever the hell he actually was because mechanicals couldn’t form matter— closes his hand around it and the light disappears. Juno then opens his hand to reveal a shiny silver ball and Dawson only has a moment to study it before it flies forward and embeds itself in the guard’s chest, punching a hole straight through. 

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, roughly wiping the blood spray from his face. Juno merely blinks, eerily unaffected, and follows easily when Dawson grabs him and drags him full speed from the scene. Hopefully the shock of their coworker's violent death keeps the other guards off their tail long enough for them to escape. 

   They make it to the exit, but Dawson would be hard pressed to recall how the hell they did it. After escaping the lab itself, it’s a simple matter of slipping down several tiny alleyways and taking a few twisty little side roads until they reach Dawson’s bike. Which swiftly presents the next dilemma; getting the lab grown superpowered mech onto said bike. Juno accepts the helmet easily enough, and even puts it on himself, though he bats away Dawson’s hands when he tries to adjust the straps. He sits behind Dawson when he says to, wrapping thin arms about the thief’s waist. He’s perfectly compliant until the bike turns on. The second it roars to life the mech is gone, scrambling off of the bike and away from its now offensive form.

“NO!” he yells, pointing an accusing finger at Dawson as he shuts off the bike and tries to approach Juno placatingly. “It’s too loud, I don’t like it!” It’s the most he’s heard from the mech since he opened that damn box. Dawson isn’t keen on having his head exploded or being set on fire, or whatever other powers Juno possessed, and so they are at an impasse. 

“What do you want from me here, kid? We need to get out of here, and this is how we do that.” He gestures behind him to the bike. “It’s perfectly safe, I promise.” The mech glares unwaveringly from under stringy curls, and he appears to be shivering— from the cold or from shock, it was hard to tell. Either way, he needed to get him indoors and fast. Could mechs even get sick from exposure? 

“Come on, we’ll get you some clothes, something to eat…” The promise of food seems to do the trick, mistrusting gaze softening to something almost hopeful. 

“Chocolate, I want chocolate, the shiny ones.” Demanding thing.

“I— Yeah, yeah okay. Get on the bike and we’ll find you some damn chocolate.” He offers his hand again to pull Juno back behind him on the bike, but he’s still a little surprised when icy fingertips graze his own. Again, he wonders if it’s a product of Juno’s inhumanity or the winter temperatures. Dawson guides him onto the bike, holding an arm securely over the thin ones clinging with much more fervor to his waist before starting the bike. Juno gives a little whine of fear but doesn’t run away this time, so Dawson counts it as a win and takes off. 

   20 minutes later and they pull up to a dark, run-down looking building. Dawson shuts off the bike and after some light jostling manages to get Juno to let go and get off the bike, before leading the mech inside. The interior is just as grim as the exterior— a welcome desk that has sat unoccupied since Dawson moved in fills one corner, while a pile of unusable cleaning supplies from when there was a cleaning crew 10 years ago takes up the lobby. Juno is again taking in his surroundings with all the interest and newness of a child or cartoon alien, running his fingers across a tabletop before grimacing at the thick dust that now clings to them. Dawson wrinkles his nose when the mech absently wipes the grime on his pilfered coat, drawing attention to how out of place he looks outside of the illegal lab setting— barefoot and clad only in a now bloodstained and filthy lab coat, which slides off one shoulder as it has lost several buttons. The dried and flaking blood spatter across what would otherwise be a sweet face completes the upsetting visage.

“Let’s go, we can’t let anyone see you like this.” He takes Juno by the hand and leads him up to his apartment, smirking a little when the mech groans at the sight of several flights of stairs. It was nice to know that there was some humanity programmed into him. 

10 floors later and they’re finally there.

“Home sweet home…” Dawson mumbles under his breath, pulling his keys out and opening the door. Juno all but runs inside, leaving the thief alone to lock back up. He kicks off his shoes by the door and then follows the sounds of Juno’s exploring to the living room, where the mech is stroking the blanket strewn carelessly over the back of the couch with reverent hands. Dawson clears his throat, feeling a little bad when he jerks his hands back as if burned.

“There’s a shower through there, go get washed up and I’ll have some clothes ready for you when you’re done.” he points to the doorway on the left. Juno seems to deflate before nodding shortly, stripping off the ruined lab coat right there in the living room, which… Okay, technically Dawson had already seen him nude, but he hadn’t planned on doing it again any time soon. He averts his eyes, and before he can muster up a response, the mech is gone, and the sound of the tub running starts up shortly. Shaking his head, Dawson grabs a trash bag from the kitchen to store the coat for now, planning on burning the thing when he gets the chance rather than risking someone finding it in the trash and poking around. Then he goes to his closet to find the aforementioned clothes he promised Juno.

   He doesn’t have much that will fit the slight mech, but he digs up a sweater from an old fling and some shorts with a tie that would work until he could get to a shop. There’s no underwear, but he suspects the mech isn’t used to wearing any anyways. Clothing sorted, Dawson decides to tackle the food problem. He’s not sure what the mech can eat, or, in all honesty, what in his kitchen is still edible. 

   The fridge is hours away from becoming a biohazard zone, and the fruit bowl on the counter has sat empty since the day his elderly neighbor brought it over as a housewarming gift. The pantry, however, yields a mostly not stale pack of crackers, a jar of pickles, and a half empty bag of halloween candy. He arranges his findings on one of the two plates he owns before checking his watch and frowning. It’s been less than 10 minutes and yet he can already hear Juno turning off the shower. There’s a pleased sound and then the quiet shuffling of someone getting dressed. 

   Juno emerges not soon after, rubbing a towel aggressively over his head. He has forgone the shorts for some unknown reason, but the sweater does technically cover everything, the hem hanging awkwardly to graze the mech’s bruised knees, and Dawson lets it slide, taking the towel from him before he can drop it carelessly to the ground like he clearly plans to. He takes one of the mech’s eternally cold hands and leads Juno over to sit at the table, setting the plate of food in front of him. Immediately he can tell he’s made some sort of grave error— those unnatural eyes narrow, and the mech pokes at one of the little gherkins with an unimpressed air.

“What… are those?” he asks disdainfully, selecting one of the less offensive crackers to shove into his mouth whole instead.

“They’re pickles, you never seen a pickle before?” Dawson asks defensively, taking one and biting into it with an obnoxious crunch. And maybe it’s a little more sour than usual, what would Juno know about it if it was? The mech just shakes his head, continuing to scarf down crackers whole. He’s a mess of contradiction, equal parts fearful and demanding, knowledgeable and clueless. And then there’s the whole ‘killing people with little balls of light’ thing to consider. Hell, he probably hasn’t ever heard of a pickle before. 

“So… What the hell was going on in that lab?” he finally asks. Juno looks up from his food (he has abandoned the plate and is now digging through the Halloween candy bag, pulling everything out and sorting them into piles— the non-chocolate candy is piling up on the floor beside his chair.) with eyes narrowed with distrust. He clearly isn’t about to bring Dawson into the loop, returning back to his candy sorting with an added flair of irritation. “Oh, so I save your skinny ass— nearly die in the process, might I add, take you in and feed and clothe you, but I can’t ask why they had you stuffed into a box? That seems fair.” He rolls his eyes when he is ignored yet again, reaching across the spindly table and grabbing the bag of candy from the mech’s lax grip. Juno hisses in surprise, baring pearly teeth at him— Dawson is pretty sure the mech might really try to bite him. Very animalistic for something so clearly machine.

“Nuh uh, you get these back when you answer my questions.” The little bastard actually has the nerve to snatch for the bag but he easily holds it out of reach. “Are you going to cooperate?” he reiterates once again, shaking the candy enticingly. Juno heaves a beleaguered sigh before giving a single sharp nod. As a token of good faith Dawson chucks a Twix at him— and is a little miffed when the brat catches it seamlessly.

“Good. Let’s start with something simple: why the hell were you in that box?”

“I always sleep in the box, if I’m not in use.” 

   That's… concerning. Mechs had developed so much in the past decade, it hardly seemed humane to lock them away when they weren’t ‘in use’. And those were just standard mechs, built to be companions, factory workers, and glorified pets. Whatever Juno was, it was clearly nearly human in its’ design, the lab could have at least sprung for a bed for the guy. The mech looks unconcerned though, gnawing at his candy’s wrapper with his teeth.

“What are your prioritized functions?” Some mechs don’t have them preprogrammed, or aren’t allowed to disclose them, but it's worth a shot to ask. Maybe if he knows why the lab was creating hyper realistic mechs, he could better figure out what to do with this one. Again though, Juno just looks confused by his question.

“I don’t know what that means.” It’s said fully deadpan, but Dawson can sense the unspoken disdain. 

“Well what the hell are you, then? They obviously built you for something— are you just some sort of fancy weapon?” This, at last, has an actual, visible effect on Juno. And Dawson immediately regrets saying it. Confusion, hurt, and guilt flicker across his face before his expression settles into something supremely pained. Then the tears come, only to be dashed away by the sleeve of Juno’s borrowed sweater before they can fall. 

“They didn’t. Build me, I mean. No one did. They just… added things. Removed things.” He’s looking down now, fiddling with the candy he still hasn’t managed to free from its wrapper. “I don’t remember everything, side effect of—” he waves his hand vaguely around his head, “but I was— I guess I was sick, as a kid? Really sick, and my family couldn’t afford the treatment, or maybe I didn’t have a family. The lab was running a trial for some special procedure and they picked me. Fixed me right up. Then they… kept finding new things to fix.” Dawson doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond. He settles on pushing the candy back across the table, avoiding the unbearable weight of that odd gaze. Silence, for a few moments. 

Then rustling sounds pick up. 

A package of Skittles hits the linoleum.

[incarnateirony]

Hey. I've noticed, even doing what I can to cull out tumblr's porn bot problem, that I've gained a few hundred followers in the last month or so. I see a lot of fresh likes, but very little conversation. So while this post is to invite that, I want to break down what's really going on here in the current fandom malarky.

The long-skewed conversation in this fandom has kind of presented an image that I bite. But for what it's worth, I bite assholes, which is why I'm doing everything I can to paywall and ask screen them away so I can zen.

I cuss a lot. But like, this fandom gotta understand. While the majority are from a very privileged and "refined" culture bubble, and the upper class came to rule the dialogue via convention paypasses to content and the illusion of access, not everyone comes from that shit.

just like the show is telling you from deep in the soul of New Orleans, like I warned you, nobody has to take your shit either. If I want to dip my hair in holy water and camp the vampires to death so help me god I will. I literally told you this a year ago, that you weren't ready for this shit. That it would be in your face, breakdancing, loud as shit, and not giving two fucks about your civility culture.

Now those old paypasses are dated and they're literally watching what republicans would scream as The Great Replacement happening at conventions, like I also warned, while we shake our mardis gras gay asses in your face, also just like I warned.

And now the open homophobic comments come flying out of hookerwitch, and a bunch of concern trolls are trying to pearl clutch that we aren't Model Minorities and Model Gays that fit THEIR view of how we should behave. No, eat shit. This is stonewall, and I don't want anyone to forget who in SPN fandom threw the first brick, and half the wall shortly after.

So now they're hate stalking and literally devoting a majority of their lives and energy to try to break past my walls and bother me, and I don't think they're understanding their own emotional investment here. They spend hours or days master planning to break into my server just to hear about me complaining about how gassy I am, or send one shit anon they thought about how to phrase for hours to try to troll, and most of it just gets screened, so they get angrier, and the hate capping and accusation throwing and pearl clutching to muddy up the dialogue begins, but we put a pin in the big racist and homophobic shit showing its face from the same recurring names. whether that be 2po, hookerwitch, whomever. Doesn't matter. Same ciswhitehetpatriarchy bullshit different day.

I cuss. I cuss about a lot. I am very enthusiastic about cheeseburgers and will say I will break a fuckers arm for a texas toms cheeseburger, and people have the context to get what I'm saying, and the culture and tone I'm speaking it in, rather than bad faith trolls. But those same bad faith trolls tried to hurt people I care about, so when they hear a real counter-threat to their threats, they hyperfixate on it, as they have, because they're scared.

They're scared because they realized they're running into my people in every greet, in every hall, in every op line. Sometimes literally. And they don't know until it's too late, and it's a different person every time, and they're realizing outside of the social club they sold themselves as small, elite and privileged that they lived in like a bubble, the convention space isn't their own any more than the show they're realizing they lost, and frankly, who they lost to, and how.

So my no bullshit attitude on concern trolls needn't scare away comments and additions from new blogs. You see my reblog ironworked and mattzerella and geeky panic additions a lot, and it's not bc we have some. Secret Connection or whatever. It's that they get it. And they have good content that always improves my content.

So whether that be adding your voice to posts (some have expressed being shy due to 2po/scripthunt/crowded table's doxxing patterns, I get that), or joining the server--remember, the Clubhouse section is free and still a lot of content. Any hour of any day you can check the Events calendar and find at least a radio event if not a group watch, a stream, a movie, a meta discussion section, a day you can take over the radio yourself, whatever. There's a lot of room.

If you follow me because you recognize the difference of someone that's very war torn as a fandom vet that has reached his end goal and is over totalitarian bullshit flying around passing itself as discussion, when it's just the noise of a cause that already lost and is getting cleaned out--by all means. Add.

The server says there's an illusion of me as some rabid dog, when I'm just really FUCKING excited about barbeque, don't let anyone tell me how I should FUCKING talk or live, and do not let anyone fucking TOUCH anyone I FUCKING care about. And they realized their time is ticking on literally everything and for the first time in their lives, they're genuinely afraid, and good.

But if you aren't that kind of problem person? Come on in. The server will probably feel like home. Or add to my posts or DM me on tumblr, though I WILL ignore and block any blatant sock accounts for the same reason as everything else.

But if you're here, slowly finding peace with the show, and looking for a garden to enjoy it in, come on in to POLOL, or message me. I'm really just a teddy bear deep down. Thing is papa bear will rip an asshole's ass apart if he fucks around in his turf or with the baby bears he already didn't cull himself in his land. But if you ain't one of those people? I just wanna cuddle and simp and talk about Supernatural and jung.

If that sounds like you, reach out some way or another.

[juuls]

Juulna’s 2021 Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Rec List - Part Six

(Yes, I realize this is a year late, but this year's been a bit nuts. I still hope you enjoy these fics anyway!)

Based only on what I’ve read with my own eyes this year!

Follow me on my journey into what, at times, was…

…actually rather calming! Perhaps you can find some comfort and entertainment, fluff and angst and romance and friendship, smut and a distinct lack of it, space adventures and fantasy and modern adventures, serial killers and good guys, redemption and reconciliation and learning to become someone completely different — there is so much here I read that stuck with me over the past year, and the 2021 Fanfic Reading Challenge ( @fanfic-reading-challenge ) allowed me a new way to keep track of all of my favourites. So props to that event! Definitely participating again (considering I run the event, yeah, that's probably a given lol, but full disclosure).

Without further ado, here were my 2021 fic favourites!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Fandom: GoT/AsoIaF

Jaime/Sansa/Oberyn/Ellaria:

Names in the Snow by OperaPhantom

“It’s a punishment,” most whispered. “Punishment from the Old Gods for betraying them for the Seven.”

A few others disagreed. “A gift from the Old Gods to the eldest Stark daughter,” they said. “Or a gift to the North.”

~~~~~~ Sansa Stark receives the Gods' Gift, the mark that identifies her soulmate, only to find out it's what no one, not even herself, expected it to be. But sometimes, surprises can be sweet.

For the February 2021 Pack Prompt of "unexpected".

Jaimsa:

I'm not a princess (this ain't a fairytale) by K_R_Closson

After Joffrey beheads Ned Stark, and his engagement to Sansa is broken, he decides to host a tournament, with the prize being Sansa's hand in marriage. When Jaime Lannister shows up at the last minute to win it, she's afraid she'll be stuck in King's Landing until Joffrey's cruelty does her in. But Jaime made a promise and, one way or another, Lannisters always pay their debts.

Joberyn:

Bequeathed from Pale Estates by Author376

In a Westeros where Soulmates are bound and Marked by the Gods to bind Houses together and pay blood debts, Lyarra Snow and Oberyn Martell are about to get a shock...

Jonsa

and no net ensnares me by thimbleful

Since Jon left, Sansa has struggled to keep things together and she longs for his return. However, when he does return things only become worse. Jon learns about his parentage and doesn't know how to make sense of anything, how to fix the inevitable mess the reveal will create, or how to protect the people he loves. But at least, after all these years, the pack is finally back together. Then, one day, Sansa disappears. Post season 7 fic.

His Winter Queen by @tm-writes-blog

A rewrite of the show's last seasons and how Jon and Sansa forged a true ruling block to challenge the Dragon Queen and defeat the Night King.

There will still be major character deaths, but some very different choices greatly impact the story.

we are buried in broken dreams by Anonymous

Prompt: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant.

A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.

Like winter we are cruel by @ferrame

Winter has come to Winterfell, Jon expects a war north of the Wall, and Littlefinger is brewing one inside the very castle.

you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) by Goodforthesoul

When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay.  His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky. 

Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.

if you try to break me, you will bleed by @dialux

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

The pursuit of non-bath time happiness by Queenofthebees

After Jon refuses Gendry's ask for Arya's hand, citing the fact Sansa was not yet betrothed, Rickon observes and, with the help of Shaggydog, Ghost and Arya, comes up with a plan to have Jon realise he should court Sansa himself. And if it were to result in Jon being less strict about bath times, that was totally coincidental!

The She-Wolves of Winterfell by @vixleonard

The pack survived. So has the Stark habit of keeping secrets.

Jonsaery:

and in the night, you'll hear me calling by @lesbiancerseilannister

When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory.

Jonsanerys:

Brave, Gentle, Strong by @jonsainthenorth

The Night King is defeated, the battle is ended, the dead heroes are burned, but the song is not yet done.

Now, Dany must grapple with the news of her newfound family and the possibility for the Targaryen line to continue beyond her. . . and beyond her brother’s son. She offer Sansa an impossible choice, one that will destroy the Lady of Winterfell's independence but grant her heart's desire and protect the North in perpetuity. Jon is caught between the two halves of himself, between two Queens, Targaryen and Stark, Fire and Ice, Dragon and Direwolf, honor and dishonor...

Sanberyn, Brandon Stark/Catelyn, minor Rhaelyanna, Jon/Cersei:

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

Sanberynia:

A Winter in Braavos by Silberias

Sansa escapes to Braavos with the Dornish.

Desert Winds Rather Than Mountain Air by Silberias

Catelyn Stark leaves King's Landing telling even her old friend Petyr Baelish that she is taking her daughters back to Winterfell. Instead she takes them, without telling Ned, to Dorne because if anyone will believe a tale of Lannister treachery it will be the Martells of Dorne.

She realizes, as she reaches the gates of Sunspear, that she is really no better than her father was all those years ago.

Clinging To The Wild Things That Raised Us by TheSweetestThing

If the Martells demanded the traitor Sansa Stark’s hand in marriage in return for peace throughout the Seven Kingdoms, then so be it.

For Fear Tonight Is All by Silberias

Tyrion knew, as he gazed up at the dark skinned Martell man that this was perhaps his only chance to spirit Sansa out of King's Landing and away from his father's greedy fingers. Tywin Lannister would have married the girl himself if he felt he could have gotten away with it, and so Tyrion knew his own marriage was no protection to Ned Stark's daughter whatsoever.

"Invite her, demand her, steal her--whatever you choose, Prince Oberyn, choose it soon. Else my lady wife shall break into more pieces than the stars."

a sad tale's best for winter by @branwyn-says

Oberyn and Ellaria visit the finest brothel in Oldtown. One of its most alluring attraction is the harpist, a girl with dyed brown hair.

She's still a maid, the brothel-keep assures them.

in this expected country they know my name by @lesspopped

At the wedding feast, Oberyn and Ellaria are approached by the Master of Whisperers, who begs they indulge him with a discussion of clothing — specifically, Lady Sansa Stark's. Very fine, they all agree...but what a shame, Ellaria tuts, she has lost an amethyst from her hairnet.

So when Joffrey begins to cough, they follow her, and find her in the godswood.

I See The Stars In Your Eyes by @themistressmaster

She feared that she was just like her aunt, a wreath of winter roses bestowed upon her at a tourney.

Sanberynia/Jon:

Dornish Customs by @framboise-fics

Sansa escapes from the Eyrie to Castle Black after being accused of the death of her late husband Harrold Hardyng, arriving just after Jon has been resurrected. The two of them decide to flee South together and after journeying for many moons, they arrive in Sunspear and find sanctuary with Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand.

But neither of them have escaped from their pasts unscathed, and during the sweltering days and long sultry nights of Dorne, tensions boil over in unexpected ways.

Sansa deserves a good man guarding her, an honourable man, and she has put her trust in Jon, who is not an honourable man at all. Perhaps he came back wrong, he thinks sometimes, perhaps this sickness is something the red priestess gave him.

Stansa:

Half of Winter by @manic-intent

Stannis Baratheon has survived wars, sieges, pitched battles and skirmishes and worse, but nothing has made him feel as lost and out of place and unnerved as this very moment.

The little pink infant in the crib sleeps peacefully, wrapped in furs, and her wrists are innocently blank. For an irrational moment, Stannis envies her, then he straightens up and turns away. Winterfell is warm, somehow - some sort of piped system, apparently - and his gloves are tucked into his belt, baring the pale silver script on the underside of his right wrist: Sansa Stark.

Wolf's Blood by @manic-intent

"Ser Davos tells me that my brother Robb has done something rash," Sansa cuts in hurriedly, before Stannis rebukes Davos. "Is that true? He has broken his word to the Freys?"

"Aye, and Lord Walder will not so easily forgive that," Stannis looks over to the Twins where they are marked on the huge table that forms the centerpiece of the Chamber, and behind him, sleek and voluptuous in her sheer red dress, Melisandre smiles with her full, crimson mouth. "Your brother is a gifted commander, but he is still a very young boy. Still," Stannis adds, with a lift of a shoulder, "Older men than he have sundered far more over women. I should know - I was part of the last war that broke out over a woman. Your aunt."

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by @sarahtheblack

Ned doesn't go to Cersei with a warning. He goes to Dragonstone.