#food; clothes; household; new phone

[narcissarina]

𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader

Word count: 2,301

Summary: Your father hired Leon as your bodyguard.

𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴

Leon Scott fucking Kennedy

The name that you heard so much from the news and to the mouths of your family. They even think of hiring him as your bodyguard, to protect you from danger—danger from this world.

“He’s big and strong, a kind of man you need.” You remember your father utter those words, as if he’s implying that you couldn’t protect yourself. Isn’t that why you started to learn martial arts? You think you don’t need a man to save you from danger when you can fight danger on your own, as long as you train hard enough.

Men are shit, that’s what you always thought.

Your father is shit, he left you with your struggling mother who tried everything to provide for you. Then he had the audacity to take you away from her when she passed.

Your exes are shit, they either cheated on your or just didn’t made time for you. They’re assholes, you despise their good for nothing excuses.

Then degenerates you see on the streets, eyeing you and catcalling you as if you were some trophy to won over nor steal.

You wanted to test this bodyguard of yours his patience, how long will it take before he snaps and leaves.

Such a thrilling experience, right?

𝙸.

Rolling over in your bed, you groan and hit your pillow a few times then threw it across your room. Ever since your asshole of a father took you in after your mom’s funeral, he took you in without asking if you have a say in it. Although you and your mother struggled financially, she was a good mother—working extra hours to earn little salary just to buy you new toys and essentials when you were young.

You despise your father, despise those fancy dresses he buys to you, despise those expensive gifts that he bought for you a few weeks ago. You just hate everything in this household.

Your step-mom was a little controlling, whenever you put on a slight revealing outfit—she would comment about it and make you change clothes, although you don’t listen and just went out with that outfit, she’d glare as if someone committed a sin in front of her.

You got up from bed, grumbling. Reaching out to find your phone on the bedside drawer and check the time, 9:20 AM.

Slowly then quickly getting out of bed to shower, brush your teeth, put on make-up. If step-mom was here, she’d asked; “who are you getting dolled up for, honey?” faking an innocent tone.

Mind your business, bitch.

You wore a fitted top, flared jeans and the converse heels that your mother bought for you—it was expensive as hell, but you appreciate every hard effort that your mother gives. Just to make her only child happy.

You always clean it whenever it gets dirty, even a slightest dust would bother you and you’d whine and get angry when it gets even a slightest dirt.

Your mom did say that she had to borrow some money to buy those heels for you, but you didn’t get a chance who she loans to. You wanted to pay her back and help her with the expenses, even wanting to help her pay those money back. But she declined, she said that all she wanted is that to see her little baby pretty, healthy and happy.

Looking at yourself in the full length mirror, turning around to see if it’s a match and that you’re ready to slay for the day. You grabbed your bag with what you need and got downstairs, you were greeted with the aroma of delicious food at the kitchen. One of father’s maids was cooking your breakfast, “morning.” You greet her with a smile.

The maid turn and smiled, “morning, miss!” seeing you greet her with a smile every morning she cooks for you, gives a warming sensation to the maids heart, “can I have some coffee, please?” you asked nicely, the maid nods and follows as she serve your plat in front of you. You always ask so politely, always saying please and saying it in a calm tone—well, your father is like that too, but you’re stepmother? She demands.

“would you like your coffee to be hot or iced?” the question made you snap away from your thoughts, fiddling with your pen and staring blankly at your assignment that you should’ve done last night, but laziness hits so who could blame you? Your friends.

“iced please.” You turn back to your assignment, “professor didn’t even teach this in class, what the…” you grip onto your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. Maybe if Sarina came to school today, she’ll teach you, right?

You felt something cold next to your cheek, you flinch at the cold and snap your eyes towards the maid. She chuckle, “sorry, miss. I could not help myself.” God even the maid in this house speaks expensive.

You smiled and took your ice coffee and thank the maid, which she always bow with elegance and say, “I am happy to serve you.” As if you were her master and she’s your slave, serving you and taking your request as demands.

You ate and left. Walked to school? No, your father wouldn’t let you. He’ll order every helper around the house to have you driven to school, he’d even go far as fire a random servant when you go against his words—so not only you didn’t listen, but also got a servant (who’s minding their own business) in trouble.

You didn’t want that, so you just follow what your father says and be a good little girl.

You practically zoned out throughout the entire ride, your driver not wanting to offend if he breaths wrong and get him fired, he asked nervously. “M-Ma’am…” he starts and you snap back to reality, “we have arrived at your destination.” Embarrassed as you are, zoning out throughout the entire ride—you check the time, 10:10 AM. You look at the driver in the eye and smiled at him, “thank you!” and left him some tip.

“Ma’am, I-I can’t take this!” the driver yelled, but you were already inside the school ground, the drivers voice didn’t reach your ear because you have an assignment to turn in. Wanting to find Sarina quick, you know just the place she’ll be in.

The library, because she is a book whore.

Quickly making your way to the library, you spot her. Finally! You spoke in your mind and rushes up to her, your heels clicking. Sarina was alerted and look up from her book, her gaze was killing but when she knew it was you—it softens, this bitch doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s reading. But if it’s you? She’ll make an exception.

“Forgot to do your assignment last night, or did laziness hit?” she asked, “can I say both?” you try to pretty blink your way out of that question, she rolled her eyes and place the bookmark in her book and snap it close. Hit you with the head slightly (since she’s reading a thick ass book in a hardbound cover.)

“That tactics doesn’t work on me, you know?” you sulk in defeat and nodded, “can you pleeeaaase give me a break down of chapter three and four?” you plead, sitting down and she follows. She cock a brow, “I’ll buy you books.” You try to bribe her, using her weakness and love for books—you know she couldn’t refuse for free stuff, right?

“deal.” She scoots over and starts to explain every possible detail of the chapter you’re struggling—not only you have a smart friend, you get a free tutor that you could only understand because the one most of your prof recommends are shit at explaining, couldn’t be at the same level of speech and understanding.

But Sarina? She adjust her speech and use examples that you could easily understand than speaking in riddles because she knew you’re that dumb, but you’re her little dumb, dumb.

Time check: 10:30 AM, that’s how fast and long how Sarina break down chapter three and four, you wonder why she hasn’t been taking advance lessons.

20 minutes and you took down notes from what Sarina said, you still have 20 more minutes to turn in your assignments. You look at Sarina with your pretty little eyes, “thank you, bestie.” You form your lips into a pout and hug her, “you are my savior.” You coo and pinch her cheeks gently, she cringe and hit you on the shoulder with her book, “stop doing that. And get to work.” She clicks her tongue and chuckle at you.

“Yes, ma’am!” you salute and stress on your assignment, muttering what Sarina said and looking back at your notes. Your posture is like a shrimp, Sarina wonder how you get so comfortable in that position—she remembers snapping at you because of your posture. You whine at her that day and sulk.

The girl watch you write down your answers, turn pages and look back and forth to your notes. She wonders why you act so differently towards her then you’re a strong fucking women towards other people, as if she had a little puppy—not a friend.

“Done!” you yelled, which got you harshly shush by the librarian, you bow to apologies and aggressive shake Sarina and chanting thank you and that she’s your savior.

“I promise to buy you books, you can get anything you want.” Those words were dangerous, you utter them to a literal book girlie. She’s going to empty your funding’s, so hope for the best.

Minutes later you came back and sat down next to her again, “turn it in?” she asked, “right on time.” You proudly said and lay your head over to her shoulder, clinging to her as if you’re a fucking koala.

“Jesus, you really need a fucking boyfriend. You cling like a lost koala.” Sarina said and try to get you off of her arm, which you wrap your hands around and refuse to let go.

“but I don’t have a boyfriend.” You try to sound sad to piss her off, “because you reject them, darling.” She rolls and gets back on reading. You let out a small boo-ho and still clings to her shoulder.

Prof was absent so you and your friend got some free time on the first period, silence was so loud that you began to get bored. Until she speaks, “by the way, have you seen the news?”

You cock your head, “hm?” you hum, “there’s been reports of women mysteriously disappearing then finding their location to another island.”

Interest sets in and you listens, loosening your grip from her arm, “heck, even the president’s daughter isn’t safe.”

“wait, wait. Hold your horses, even the president’s daughter?”

“Even. The presidents daughter.”

Jaw drop and crossing your legs, “tell me more.”

“apparently they sent their most best and dangerous agent.” Sarina said, giggling to herself and closing the book—oh wow, this motherfucker never closes her books before when she talks. Interesting.

“he got the presidents daughter safe and return home. Like, ack! He’s so dreamy, girl!”

You nod, so—the agent was a male. God you hate men, really. But hid an ick expression.

“his name is Leon Kennedy, by the way.” You see how your friend bit her lip and got back being all giggly to her book.

Leon Kennedy.

You heard the name before, you father said that if these kind of cases continue—he’ll have Leon Kennedy as your bodyguard, that’s right. Leon fucking Kennedy.

You hate how your father sees you as a meek and timid girl who can’t protect yourself, even your step-mom. Saying it’s for the better, my ass, you said in your mind and just zoned out.

Class ended at two sharp, your driver waiting for you as he greeted you with a smile and lifting his hat to add extra respect. You don’t know why father trained them like this but you don’t wanna ask either.

The whole ride, you talk with the driver for the first time—well, he asked you first. Asking how your day went by and setting the atmosphere something light and fun, he felt like a father to you for a moment, he advises like a dad and share his stories. He has a daughter too, he is a dad.

You almost let it slip, “you were the father I wanted.”

But he didn’t heard that and kept making still making bad dad jokes, it was so lame and bad that it made you laugh. You know one thing in mind, that your own father could not do this to you and with you.

Arriving home, several maids and butlers line up at the front door where you enter—greeting you in sync, their voices sounded like AI, “greetings and welcome back, young miss.” They said and you just stood there dumbfounded.

Still not used to this kind of treatment, “uhm, dismiss?” you said quietly, which all of them heard—they bow and left, completely dismissing them. As if they’re a trained slaves, you shudder at the feeling and something catches at the corner of your eyes, father was talking to someone.

Who is he?

He’s tall, broad shoulders, dirty blonde hair, blue iced eyes. He’s taller than your father, probably 5’11?

“Father.” You said, as much as you hate addressing him father, you just had to. “I’m home.”

“Ah! Lovely.” Father smiled, and gesture you to come closer. “dear, this man will be your bodyguard from now on.”

Huh.

Your mind absent and felt like time freezes, bodyguard?

“My name’s Leon. Leon Kennedy.”

No fucking way.

Next Chapter>>>

[xosdr]

Road to Wealth

If you've any questions or find any problems or spelling mistakes. Please let me know in my Discord

Please Read Terms of Use

More Info about Road to Wealth

The road to Wealth mod adds a Net Worth system to your game. Depending on your Sims net worth (property value + cash) they will automatically receive a trait and the trait will also be automatically updated when your Sim goes into another class. The five traits are: poor, lower class, middle class, upper class, and wealthy.

The new traits have also been added to preferences, so your Sim can like or dislike a certain net worth class. If they are in a net worth class they don't like they will receive negative buffs and if they are in a net worth class they do like they will receive positive buffs. Also, it is harder to make friends with Sims who are in a net worth class your Sim dislikes and easier with Sims who are in a net worth class your Sim does like.

Not only does this mod add a net worth system it also adds more ways for your Sims to spend or earn money:

They can now go on activities, by themselves or with friends and family.

They'll have to pay an entrance fee on certain lots that have the new lot challenge activated: Entrance Fee.

They can purchase memberships, so they don't have to pay the entrance fee anymore. These memberships will last 7 or 14 days.

They might receive scam calls where they either loose or win a lot of money.

They can take out a loan. Paying back the loan works the same as the Discovery University loan system, but the system has been made Base Game Compatible and has become less buggy.

Poor and lower class Sims can now search for money on certain furniture items.

Instead of selling all your inventory items directly in the inventory your Sims can now sell their items at the new stores. The interaction can be found in the shopping tab on their phone or computer. Not only can your Sims sell their items at these store they can also purchase item from these stores.

And there is also a new aspiration available: Road to Wealth.

Then this mod also comes with a few optional files. All these optional files are optional and the reason they are optional is because they are either overrides or they require DLC.

Lot Prices: changes the price of each lot in game. You can choose to have them all as §0 or the original price x 5 or x 10.

Starting Funds: changes the amount of money a new household starts with. Your Sim will have to pay back this money. It's a loan! 

Adoption & Animals: changes the prices of all adoptions and animals (except for goats, sheep, cows, llamas, and chickens). Also, animal food has become more expensive.

Diaper & Bottle: adds pricing to each diaper change and each bottle feed. Cloth diapers and breastfeeding is free.

Reward Store: adds 50% of the original price to any rewards store item. For example if it costs 2000 it will now cost 3000.

Science Baby: makes having a science baby a lot more expensive!

Services: all services have now become more expensive. This includes massages, manicures, and pedicures.

University: All university classes have become more expensive.

Translations:

Russian by Pumpkin

Chinese by ImmoralSSS 

Spanish by RoshySims

PATREON | DOWNLOAD

[tanuki-voice]

Your body ballooned when you gave in to eating junk. There was nothing like the feeling of being stuffed, feeling the sugars and saturated fats crawling through your veins. You loved it, were given over to it, totally addicted. In the end, the thing that broke down your inhibitions wasn't their relentless advertising, or even the clever marketing. It was the coupons.

It began simply: you would come home from work tired and hungry, and order fast food. To expedite the process, you'd downloaded all the value apps for the places in your area. The promises of free stuff and quicker ordering was too good to pass up. However, you'd forgotten to turn off notifications.

Every so often, your phone would ding with a new deal, a temptation, a siren's call to get you to order in exchange for deep discounts. In the beginning, these were free fries, an upgrade to a larger soda, a cheaper sandwich. All the same, on those late nights, it sounded good. Why not treat yourself once in a while?

Of course, soon, "once in a while" turned into "every few days", then "every other day", until you found yourself becoming slowly dependent on the offers, a bit of elation from every little perk. The more you ordered, the more their algorithm could read you, serving you exactly what you desired, calling you each day at the proper time. As if trained, you would feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mouth would begin to water. It was time to order.

The algorithm, of course, was not entirely in tune with your identity. It was a being designed to generate profit. By ordering so much, so often, you had managed to convince it you were a large household, and it reacted accordingly. The deals changed to suit this belief, family size meals, multi-packs, pastries by the dozen. You ordered them all, gorging yourself without end to fuel your ravenous appetite.

What began as a dinner routine extended to other meals, and soon after that you'd even find yourself going through the drive-thru for a quick snack between meals. To live in such gluttony, messily pigging out without end, shoveling food into your mouth day after day, brought you such pleasure. You found yourself going back, again and again, every day, consumed by the desire for more. Tonight was no different.

Reclined into your sofa, you awoke from a potent carb nap. Your lunch, two large pizzas, half a dozen donuts, an order of chicken wings, and a 40oz soda, had truly taken it out of you. Your enormous belly strained your comfy pajama pants, barely covered by an extra large t-shirt. Your hands comfortably rested on its pillowy softness. Through the mountains of squishy fat, you felt it rumble. It was time for dinner. And right on schedule, your phone buzzed.

With potent glee you snatched it up. Today, if you ordered in the next hour, you could get a meal for four, burgers, onion rings and milkshakes. The kicker: order now and get two more burgers free. Your payment details had never danced across the screen faster, and thirty minutes later three greasy bags full of food were dropped off judgement-free at your door.

You brought them back to the sofa and began to chow down. It had become tradition for you to eat without a shirt on by now; your meals had long since become too indecent to go without dirtying your clothes. Your tummy bared to the world, you picked up a burger in one hand and a fistful of onion rings in the other, and devoured. Like an animal you ate primally, as if starved, not knowing when your next meal may come. There was no one to tell you you couldn't, only you demanding that you would. Each mouthful was calorie rich, and each was washed down with more food, more milkshake, more trash.

You spared one of your grease covered hands to rub your stretch mark covered stomach. As you teased gassy burps and wind breaks from your middle, it growled, pleased, yet still expectant. Rarely was it ever satisfied. No matter how much you stuffed into it, it wanted more. It commanded you to fill yourself, to bring yourself to the brink, feeling as if you would pop. Your appetite controlled you, but under its warm, pleasant, hazy influence, you were happy to be its willing pawn.

The joy of feeding took priority over anything else. You felt like you could eat forever. Your body would adapt to the gluttonous demon you had become, one whose mind lived in its stomach. To eat was so simple, so thoughtless, mindless. You just let your belly think for you as you ordered, and let it bring you to pleasurable, mind-clearing bliss. Your body, particularly your ample midsection, was a temple, a testament to the food gods you worshipped. You loved to see it grow, to see it flow over you, to see it bulge, swell and fill your chairs and mattresses.

A loud belch stirred you from your enraptured state for just a moment to see that you'd gone through a majority of your offerings. There was a slight sting as you realized your feeding was nearing its end. Suddenly, without thinking, your hand reached for your phone again. Your stomach rumbled. It wouldn't be satisfied with just this, but would you really go over that line? Ordering even more, without thinking? Was this who you had become?

A notification dinged. If you ordered in the next thirty minutes, you could get a dozen eclairs for half price. Your bloated belly purred. Maybe it was who you'd become, and maybe you weren't ashamed of it. You had been, at one point, but that reluctance had faded. This was who you were, an insatiably hungry animal given over to your muses, and you loved every second of it. Dessert wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, maybe, even a little after that. You smiled and confirmed your delivery. You had a long, gluttonous night ahead of you, and you were raring to get started.

[octuscle]

Fewer wheels, more balls

Stephen cursed everything. His parents, because they hadn't paid for him to study medicine and he had only become a nurse. St. Peter because he sent a shower of rain at the exact moment he rolled out onto the road on his new motorcycle. The mechanic, because he had offered him the motorcycle as a replacement for his car, which had finally died of old age. And himself, because he hadn't had the backbone to insist on having the car repaired and had this bike sold to him instead. Yes, he had taken his driver's license back then. But he hadn't ridden a motorcycle since driving school. And this beast, a twenty-year-old Triumph Rocket III, was far too big for his frail body. And with the silly rain overalls that the mechanic had given him, he looked more than silly.

Especially in this weather, Stephen hadn't expected to get home on his bike without breaking down. But even he was surprised that it should be so far after just four miles. With the last of his strength, the bike rolled under the highway bridge. At least it was dry there. And now? Stephen had no idea about engines. He was an ambulance driver. He knew all about cars. At least a little. But with motorcycles?

If you're at a loss, ask ChatGPT. Stephen pulled out his cell phone and described the problem. He was advised to remove the spark plugs and dry them out. Shit, yes, he'd heard about that. It was a common problem with that model year. He had an oily rag in his upperall. He dried and cleaned the spark plugs. And the machine started. Perfectly! Nevertheless, Stephen sent up a prayer to heaven. And it was answered. The rain subsided and he made it home without any further problems.

Stephen dried his bike and hung his wet leather suit on a hanger. His garage, which was also his own little improvised workshop, was kept tidy. That was important to him. Otherwise, he wasn't the tidy type… As he stood in front of the toilet in his wet underwear and pissed, it occurred to him that he could clean again. Shit, this was a man's household. And he worked in the Red Cross workshop on engines and car bodies. He didn't need a sterile environment. He still had some pizza left in the fridge. He didn't have to leave for work for another hour. That was enough for food, drink and a wank. Then he put on a dry leather suit, sat on his 140 hp baby and set off for work with the engine roaring.

Stephen liked the late shift. He could wait for the vehicles in peace and didn't have to constantly watch out for vehicles coming in and out. The bad weather also meant that there were fewer people on the road. There were fewer motorcycle accidents in particular. Stephen didn't care about the weather. He had once had a car. But he needed the wind around his nose. He drove in all weathers. Nevertheless, he preferred it when no bikers had to be taken to hospital after an accident. Here in the neighborhood you can. Most of them were at least distant acquaintances. I mean, Stephen was an authority in the biker scene. When it came to engines, nobody could fool him. And whether it was his Triumph, his BMW or his Ducati, he had every bike under control.

It was almost 05:00 in the morning. The replacement would be coming soon. Stephen was standing in the coffee kitchen with a couple of paramedics, smoking a cigarette. His parents had always wanted him to become a doctor. He was sure that he could do a much greater service to the health service with his job. And tomorrow it would continue, tomorrow he would give it his all again. But not today, today he was happy when his baby was in the garage and he was in bed.

It was 08:00 when Steve was woken by a honking horn. Shit, he had slept in his clothes again. It had been a long evening with the boys. And yes, he'd probably had one too many beers to drive home. But his machine knew the way. Another honk. Bloody hell, couldn't anyone wait these days? "I'm coming" boomed Steve's bass over the service station. Some fucking city slicker who was too stupid to fill up the tank himself. Steve had a hard time hiding his morning wood when he went to the gas pump to fill up the show-off Porsche. Steve positioned himself so that the driver had no other chance than to stare at the bulge in his pants. "That'll be 80 bucks, buddy," Steve grunted. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Steve had once seen a drawing of a gas station where the attendants not only refueled and repaired cars, but also served hot customers in other ways. It was some guy from Denmark, Sweden or something… Tim? Tom? It didn't matter. Steve turned around, his hand on his bulge. Three, two, one... He would have bet the 80 dollars that the Porsche driver would come up behind him. The first coffee of the day would have to wait. He had an ass to fill for now.

Interested in your own TF story? DM me, there's a community on Tumblr for that!

[m00nlight-ramblings]

BG3 Companion Modern AU Headcanons

These random thoughts popped into my mind and I had to write them down. I love these little weirdos, and some of them probably don't make sense but OH WELL.

Should I do a Part 2 with more companions?? Let me know - my inbox and requests are open!

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Astarion

This dude's got iPad kid energy - he loves to scroll Tiktok for hours.

He gets bi-weekly pedicures. And not the basic kind - the full on 1.5 hour long with the massage and the mask and the exfoliation.

His favorite holiday is Halloween. He plans his costume starting in August.

He'd be the type of person to be walking through a mall, see a Claire's, and spontaneously decide to get his ears pierced idk.

Is really into metal. Like, you'll come home and Metallica will be blasting and you walk into the bedroom and he's folding laundry and just like, "Oh, HELLO, Darling!" but will have to scream it over the volume in which he's listening to music

Will truly take an hour picking out the perfect wine to pair with your dinner...he's definitely a wine snob.

The cheapest article of clothing Astarion owns is from Banana Republic and it's an undershirt...everything else is ~*very fancy*~

Loves watching all types of vampire movies/TV shows. He can often be heard saying, "Oh no, they got that all wrong" under his breath.

He definitely reads like 1-2 books a week. He's recently really gotten in spicy smut books (he definitely got recommendations from BookTok).

For sure falls asleep to ASMR videos.

Gale

This man loves HGTV *queue Home Depot commercial music*

Has the most absolutely beautiful, clean home you've ever seen with about 30 bookcases CRAMMED with books. The books are the only disorganized thing in his home because he constantly is reading them, so alphabetizing them is useless.

Pinterest is his most used phone app. His boards are carefully curated. That man has a recipe/inspiration pic/quote for EVERYTHING.

Definitely volunteers at the animal shelter once a month. Often times has to talk himself out of bringing a cat home.

LUSH is his favorite store at the mall. He loves them bath bombs.

He THROWS DOWN at holiday parties...Christmas? Thanksgiving? The table is SET. The decorations are UP. He's wearing an APRON because he's been cooking ALL day. The playlist is PERFECT.

Speaking of holidays, he has matching pajama sets for everyone in the household. For every. Holiday.

Fall is absolutely his favorite season. "Sweetheart...have you ever watched 'When Harry Met Sally'? Perfect autumn movie...also I bought a new scarf today to go with my new peacoat. And mittens. And a new hat...it's getting cold outside."

He definitely has a Live. Laugh. Love. adjacent sign somewhere in his home

He definitely needs glasses to read. And he for sure has those librarian chains so that he can just take them off and they hang, instead of losing them.

Karlach

Absolutely loves to eat meals watching Youtube videos.

Imagine her in Times Square? She tears the M&M's store UP.

Is obsessed with documentaries. She often says things like "I can't believe there's so much stuff to LEARN out there!"

Definitely has a Squishmallow collection. And she rotates which one she sleeps with every night so they all get a chance.

Is absolutely the worst cook of all time but tries really really hard...however, she can make a mean boxed mac n' cheese.

Has an obsession with sugary cereal. There's always Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Fruity Pebbles in her cabinets.

Certified Switie for SURE.

Is really into astrology. Definitely has said, "Oh, you're just saying that because you're a SCORPIO" or the like many, many times.

Absolute Starbucks addiction (venti iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel).

Has monthly "girl's nights" (but everyone is invited) at her place. The rules are: pajamas only, junk food, romcoms, and a playlist of the best pop songs in the past 20 years.

------

How'd y'all like it...should I make a part two with other companions?! Remember my inbox is open and I'm accepting requests!! I'd love to write some stuff so send it in!

[notchainedtotrauma]

I am making a new post because I know the one has already lost traction. I'm living in an emotionally eroding household, suffers from severe OCD and CPSTD and while thanks to the help of those communities here, I've been able to buy essentials and get transportation, I'm still in great need.

I need even more essentials, I was hit the past two months with 100$ plus phone bills, I could get some transportation money, but it's going to run out soon and that's a huge concern. And food and clothing still manage to be something I'm in great need of.

Pp ccd4t@virginia.edu

Kofi

[kkumawrites]

Chapter One cw/tw: mentions of food (coffee/breakfast) wc: 1.1k

It would be considered a miracle to get you up and out of bed before the break of noon. Why was it such a crime to enjoy sleeping through bright mornings, relishing in the feeling of the sun kissing your skin as it peeks through the curtains to help stir you from slumber. 

Yet here you are, awake at exactly a quarter to 8am. The sun is barely peeking out from beyond the horizon and it should be illegal to be up this early. However, the loud, shrill ring of your phone’s alarm clock forces you out of your sweet dreams and a tired annoyed groan is pulled from your lips. 

It’s so tempting. To just hit snooze and curl back up into the warmth of your blankets. And to be honest, that’s what you’re about to do before you hear a knock at your door. You let out another frustrated groan. 

“Love, it’s time to wake up,” Your mothers voice is soft as she calls out. You turn to lie on your back and stare up at the ceiling, contemplating your life for a brief second before letting out a sigh. Reluctantly you get up, stretching out your arms before making your way towards the bathroom. One shower later and you feel a little more awake, but just barely as you pick out some clothes. A faded band t-shirt (that you couldn’t even tell who the artist was anymore) and a pair of jeans make up a simple outfit. Add on a comfy jacket and your favorite combat boots and you’re as ready as you’ll ever be.

You shake your messy hair in an attempt to tame the wild locks, but you give up after a few tries. The black nail polish on your fingertips is peeling but you can’t be bothered to redo them, instead waiting for it to completely fall off before you even consider painting them again. 

Downstairs your mother is making breakfast, mostly for herself as you typically didn’t eat too much in the morning, especially this early. Instead you slide over to open the fridge, making some iced coffee to help you actually wake up. You add probably too much creamer, but that’s just how you like it as you eagerly caffeinate yourself. A content sigh leaves your lips as you sip the cool beverage and you can hear the sweet chuckle of your mother. 

“Excited for classes?” She questions even though she knows how you feel. Her smile to you is warm and you don’t have it in your heart to say something snarky, so you just shrug. 

“Do I really have to go?” 

She gives you a knowing look, her kind smile still not leaving her face. “No, you don’t. But I’d really like it if you tried. College is a lot different from High School, I’m sure it’ll be better” You’re silent as you sip the drink between your hands, unsure what to say. You glance at the clock before grabbing your tote bag, downing the rest of your coffee. 

“Mm, well I’m off then. I’ll try to make you proud, ok?” 

You’re half way through the door before your mom is calling you back. You turn back around to face her and her hands move to cup your face. 

“Hey, I just want to let you know that I’m already so proud of you. I know how reluctant you are. I know you struggled fitting in, in high school. Let this be a new opportunity for you. You’ll barely know anyone there, you can start over,” Her smile is sweet and you can’t help but wrap your arms around her, pulling her in close to you. You take in her usual lavender scent that calms your nerves, letting it wrap around you softly. There’s another emotion that tugs at your heart that you don’t want to address, so you push it down and ignore it as you usually do. So instead you pull away and give her the best smile that you can. 

“I love you. I’ll see you after classes,” You say as you walk away, waving goodbye at the woman who’s standing in the doorway. She waves back fondly.

“Have fun!” And you know what? That’s exactly what you plan to do.   ────── 〔✿〕────── 

Meanwhile in another household not too far away, was, to put it lightly, a hot mess. It was a rather typical morning however for the larger pack. It certainly didn’t help that it was the first day of the college semester, and some of the boys were becoming freshmen. This left a certain leader a lot more stressed out than usual. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing what would practically be a feast for the wolves he called brothers. They would leave nothing uneaten that was placed on the table. He was one of the very few that was already dressed and ready for classes that day.  

“Yah! Seungkwan, did you steal my shirt again?” A loud voice echoed throughout the house, vibrating against the walls. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re the one who stole my underwear Soonyoung hyung!” 

“I did not!! That was Chan,” “Do not pull me into one of your dumb fights hyungs,” 

Seungcheol could feel a budding headache starting to form, pressing his fingers to his temple in an attempt to will it away. He watched as the two youngest ran into each other and the “problem” brothers (booseoksoon) were arguing over something stupid across the house. The eldest was desperately trying to help everyone else get ready and out of the house in what would hopefully be one piece. Despite everyone being in college now, none of them had their shit together. Maybe a few, but it didn’t make much of a difference in the chaotic household. 

Jihoon, on the other hand, didn't bother to help. He was currently sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for breakfast to be ready as he messed around with his phone. Even with all the glares Seungcheol gave the smaller, he didn’t budge at all. 

“Hey, Wonwoo. Where’s Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asked, watching the said boy walk down the stairs as he fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. The latter shrugged. 

“I dunno. Probably should ask Joshua Hyung,” Wonwoo replied, joining Jihoon at the table. Another sigh left his lips. It felt like this morning might never end. 

“Joshua! Where is Jeonghan?” He calls out in what he hopes is a steady calm tone. 

“He’s still asleep. He won’t wake up,” The other replies from somewhere in the house. At this, Seungcheol wanted nothing more than to just go back to bed, curl up under the blankets and maybe cry at why his parents had left him alone with his twelve brothers. Once again, he’s looking over at Jihoon with pleading eyes. The other doesn’t even bother looking up. “Nope. Don’t look at me. I am NOT waking him up,”

Seungcheol came to a conclusion that morning. They were all useless

[gwennybriggs]

Beyond The Classroom

Pt. 1

I don’t expect this one to be very popular, this is a self indulgent piece 🫡

Summary: Once a Little Eagle, always a Little Eagle. Melissa keeps that promise to you year after year as she shows up for you in every possible way.

Warnings: Child abuse, neglect, abandonment, over all sad stuff (Mel makes it better!)

WC: 3.9k

Notes: Wrote this because it’s the week before Mother’s Day and I just want my mama (she’s an awful human being and will never be a part of my life again, 6 years no contact). Melissa is a comfort character for me, so I’m using this as a hug from her. I know there are plenty of other people with bad relationships with their moms (gotta love mommy issues), so I thought I’d share in case someone else would also like this hug.

I see you, I love you.

P.s. This story is about 85% based on events I experienced as a child/young adult. I’m thankful every day for the teachers who stepped in to be the parents I didn’t have.

You grew up in a not-so-wonderful household with abusive parents and older siblings who wouldn’t have noticed if you had decided to run away one day. Melissa Schemmenti knew. She was the one person you felt you could confide in as a child. She called CPS on your parents a handful of times during the year she taught you, in hopes of keeping you safe. Unfortunately, with a broken system and a mother who could sweet talk The Devil himself, your parents got off scot-free, leaving you to deal with the aftermath each time.

You would go into school the next day with a new bruise and tears in your eyes. Melissa would hold you close and let you cry all you could before pulling a chair up next to her own so you could be near your safe person all day. When it came time for dismissal, she would hug you extra tight and send a silent prayer to God that you’d walk through the doors again in the morning. On Fridays, she would sneak a Tupperware container of homemade food and a handful of snacks into your bag with a note that said ‘love you, kid’, knowing that your parents restricted your access to food and that she was probably the only person you heard those words from most days. The world sat heavy on your second grader shoulders and Melissa did everything she knew how to make it a little lighter.

Even as you moved on past second grade, Ms. Schemmenti was there. She would check in with each of your teachers at the beginning on the school year and pop in to say hello at lunch from time to time. If you had a particularly rough night at home you would stop by her room and ask her to hold you for a minute before other students arrived. She always obliged.

The day you moved on to middle school, Melissa cried right along with you. Both of you knew she wouldn’t be able to hug the hurt away or keep tabs on you as often. Of course, she made sure you knew how much she loved you, she gave you her personal phone number and said, “No matter how old you get or how far you go, you’ll always be my favorite little eagle. I’ll always be here for you if you need me and I mean it. If things go south at home, you call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’re gonna be okay.”

As the years passed, Melissa made sure she remained a constant- the only constant, really- in your life. Through your middle school years she became your tutor, meeting you at your school’s library every Thursday after dismissal to help you with your homework. Of course, those sessions were always a little more than just help with homework; she would bring you food and make sure you had clean clothes and basic necessities. One time you let it slip that your mother had ‘forgotten’ to buy you toothpaste and she dropped off a small bag of Colgate tubes on your front porch that night.

When you entered high school, Melissa made an effort to show up for every one of your art shows and track meets. Your parents never even made it to one, but Schemmenti was there. She always was. Your high school teachers even began to think Melissa was your mother; you never corrected them. And when you started working at the hoagie stand your sophomore year, Ms. Schemmenti would stop by once a week to have dinner with you.

The physical abuse dwindled a little as you got older and were able to fight back, but the verbal abuse got worse as a result. At one point during you senior year, your mother kicked you out after throwing a fit about you not inviting her to see you try on prom dresses. You called Melissa and she drove forty-five minutes at three in the morning to get you. Your mother knocked you to the ground and pulled fistfuls of hair, creating a tangled mess. When you were finally able to get her off of you, she screamed at you the entire time you packed your bag.

“FUCK YOU Y/N, YOU SELFISH BITCH! Couldn’t even include YOUR OWN MOTHER! It hurts, it’s almost like not getting invited to your WEDDING!” You dodged books and trinkets she threw at you as you tossed whatever sentimental things you could think of into trash bags to take with you. Photos of your grandparents, your favorite stuffed animal, and some of your artworks made it in before you heard Melissa honking in the driveway.

“You’ve never been my mom,” you seethed with tears streaming down your face as you dragged your bags down the stairs.

She blocked you from leaving at the bottom of the stairs and backhanded you, her ring catching the tender skin beneath your eye. You yelped in pain and stumbled forward, she grabbed you by the throat and squeezed. “You walk out that door and NEVER come back, you hear me? You are worthless, a waste of space and air.” She dug her nails into your skin before she released you and practically pushed you through the front door.

“You’ll never have to deal with me again. You want me out? I’m out.”

Your father followed behind with his fists balled up, “If you ever come back, it’ll be the last time you see daylight!”

Melissa waited for you by the car with her baseball bat, ready to swing if need be. Once your bags were in the backseat, Melissa tossed her baseball bat into the trunk and drove off. Your mother chased the car all the way down the driveway calling you every derogatory thing she could come up with.

The drive to Melissa’s house was silent save for the occasional quiet aob from both parties. Once you arrived, Melissa took your bags inside and walked you up the stairs to her bathroom to nurse your wounds. You winced as she swabbed your cheek with isopropyl alcohol and she frowned. “I’m so sorry, hon. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner to stop her.”

“Don’t be, you still showed up when I needed you. It coulda been a lot worse. Thank you,” you cried as you leaned your head against her stomach just like when you were a second grader.

She held you until your tears dried then left the room to grab a change of clothes for you. Moments later, she handed you a pair of her sweatpants and an oversized Eagles t-shirt. “You can take the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch. My spare room doesn’t have a bed right now, but we can fix that tomorrow after I call out of work. You need anything before I head down, kid?”

You looked at the ground, embarrassed to even ask, “Would you maybe… would it be okay if…. never mind, it’s stupid.” You shook your head and climbed under the comforter, it smelled like Melissa.

She somehow knew exactly what you were asking without hearing the words. She climbed into the bed and lifted an arm for you to scoot in. “Of course, sweet girl, it’s not stupid at all. I’ll keep you safe, promise. Try to get some sleep, I’ll be right here.” You settled into her embrace and took a deep breath.

You whispered, “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Sleep tight,” she whispered back before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Sleep was the last thing on her mind as she held you, watching as the rise of your chest slowed. She stayed awake the whole night, guarding your peace.

Late the following morning, you woke up to an empty bed and the sound of people in the house. You popped your head out into the hallway to see Melissa directing three men where to go with the new bed set. She heard the door creak and looked over at you with an apologetic smile, “Hey, hon, sorry to wake you! They’ll be outta here shortly. I called your school and work to let them know you wouldn’t be in for a few days so you don’t have to worry about it. I washed the clothes that were in your backpack, they’re sitting by my bathroom. There’s also a clean towel for you and a new toothbrush on the counter. You’re welcome to use my hairbrush and whatever else you need.” You smiled back at her and closed the door.

You picked an outfit from the pile of folded clothes and shut the bathroom door to shower. Your body was sore from the adrenaline and you groaned in pain as you shed your pajamas. Standing naked in the mirror, you looked over the marks your mother left on you. The nail marks on your neck were already scabbed over, but the gash under your eye was bruised and definitely going to leave a scar. You traced your fingers along each mark, tears forming in your eyes. The shower was hot enough to leave your skin red, you wanted to burn away any remnants of what happened to you. You sobbed loudly as you tried to detangle the mess of hair your mother created, it hurt and you were so worried that you’s just have to cut it all off.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Ya decent?” You opened the door for her and she gently took the brush from your hands. She directed you to sit backwards on the toilet while she worked at the knots on your head. You nearly fell asleep sitting there as she hummed and massaged conditioner into your hair, working diligently to make sure you kept your beautiful hair.

“You sleep okay,” She asked as she rinsed your hair in the sink.

“That was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time. I haven’t slept in a bed in months, it was so soft.” You said it like it was nothing.

She paused. “Whatduya mean you haven’t slept in a bed in months?”

You sighed deeply. “They took my bed away because they said I was a whore and didn’t deserve one. I told them that I’m a virgin and they took the door off of my room, callin’ me a liar.” You hadn’t told her that detail when you saw her at one of your track meets a few months before. You figured you’d shared enough heartbreaking details with the woman, she didn’t need to be even more worried about you.

Hot tears silently flowed down her cheeks. She was angry. Not at you for not telling her, but at the low-lifes you called parents. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” she spat. She was ready to call in one of her favors from The Tire Iron. “Well I’ll tell ya one thing, kiddo, you ain’t goin’ back there ever again. You’ll never be without ‘long as I’m around, ya got it? And you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want, no strings attached.”

You choked back your own tears. “Thanks, Ms. Schemmenti. I truly appreciate you.” She wrapped your hair in a towel and you turned to hug her. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve, apparently,” she teased when your stomach growled loudly. She grabbed your chin to look at you, “And no more ‘Ms. Schemmenti’. You can call me Melissa, Mel, Aunt Mel, whatever you want, just not that. You’re family, kid. Now c’mon, I’ll make you something to eat before we head out for a shopping trip.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her brow furrowed, “You tryin’ to make me feel old? None of that ma’am stuff either.” You giggled and followed her down to the kitchen.

She made French toast and sausage and you devoured the meal in just a few bites. Satisfied with you having eaten, she grabbed her purse, dragged you to the car and pulled out of the driveway. Along the way, she asked you to make a list of anything you might need or want. You took your phone out and looked at it for the first time that day. The screen was full of awful messages from both of your parents and extended family members. You chose to clear the screen and turn off notifications without reading them all and opened your notes app to jot down a few things you knew you missed when packing bags.

Melissa pulled into the mall parking lot and looked over at you, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened?”

You rubbed your eyes and tried to fake a smile, “Nothin’, I’m just tired.” She knew you well enough to know when you were lying, but she wasn’t going to push you on the subject.

“Mkay, kid. If you decide you wanna talk about it, you know I’ll always listen. And you know I’d kill for ya.” She gently nudged you with her elbow and the two of you made your way into the mall. You showed her your list and she took charge, guiding you around to every clearance rack and bargain bin in the vicinity. You paid for the majority of your new finds, but she insisted on helping with funds here and there. Many stores later Melissa stopped for a bathroom break and you found yourself in front of Auntie Anne’s. Remembering how much she loved soft pretzels- she’d get one every field trip- you decided to buy two, one for each of you. It was a very small token of gratitude, but you knew she’d be excited.

When she exited the bathroom, she scanned the food court for you and found you sitting at a table with all the bags. She sat down across from you and you pushed the soft pretzel her way with a little cup of honey mustard, “Thank you for today. Normally I hate shopping, but you made it fun.”

She gave you an upside down smile and took a bite. “I’m glad I could be a good distraction for ya, hon. And thank you for this!” She clinked her pretzel with yours to ‘cheers’ the day. As you finished your pretzels in silence while people watching, a dress shop on the upper level caught your eye. Despite trying on prom dresses, you never actually bought one.

Melissa‘s eyes followed your gaze and when she spotted the shop she knew what she was going to do. “Hey, I know you said you normally hate shopping, but since we’ve been having so much fun today… why don’t we keep the fun going and go pick out your prom dress? It’s what, two weeks out?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I can’t afford it now that I’ve spent half my savings on shit I needed today. Besides, I got to do prom last year, I’m alright missing out on this one.” You played with the straw in your drink absentmindedly and took the last bite of your pretzel.

Melissa thought back to the conversations she had with you about how excited you were for your senior prom. You buzzed about it every time the two of you spoke for months, it broke her heart to see you resign to not going. “My treat, hon. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, I know how bad you wanna go. C’mon,” she said as she prodded you up and dragged you to the dress shop.

You spent about an hour browsing and trying on different dresses, even somehow convinced Melissa to try one on with you for shits and giggles. You pretended not to see her sneak a picture in the mirror of the two of you in the matching dresses, a sweet moment she wanted to remember forever. Finally, you found the right one. The a-line strapless dress stopped mid calf, it was wine red and fit like a dream. When you emerged from the dressing room to show her, she gasped.

“Oh, beautiful girl! My favorite little eagle isn’t so little anymore.” She stuck her bottom lip out in an upside down smile as she reached to tuck your hair away from your eyes. She took a small step back and asked you to spin so she could see it all. The smile on your face told her you made your choice. With misty eyes she pulled you into a tight hug, limiting your ability to breathe.

“I can’t… breathe… help,” you choked out. The redhead lessened her squeeze and apologized but didn’t let go, she needed that moment to collect herself. You stood there embracing each other for a couple of minutes before Melissa finally released you. Once you changed back into your clothes, she took the dress to the register and paid.

You walked out together and stuffed all the bags in the trunk, laying the dress flat in the backseat. “Thank you. For everything, Aunt Mel. For a few hours, it didn’t feel like my world was crashing down around me. I’m lucky to have you.”

She kissed her fingers and then pressed them to your cheek before she started driving. “I’m pretty lucky to have you too, kid. And I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces when you need me.”

The drive back to Melissa’s house was quiet, aside from the classic rock station playing the weekly hits countdown. You checked your silenced notifications to see even more messages and missed calls from your family, Melissa glanced over and saw them too. “If you want, we can change your number this week, that way they can’t bother you anymore,” Melissa offered.

“They still pay for my phone, I can’t. They’d cancel my service the moment they found out.” You shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Then I’ll just move you over to my cell plan. They don’t deserve the power they have over you, hon.” You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when she pointed at you. “Let me help, please. Because I can and I want to.”

“Thanks, Aunt Mel.”

A few minutes later you arrived back at the townhouse and dragged all of your new belongings up to your new room, hanging up the dress immediately. Melissa said she’d help you make the bed and get settled once she got dinner in the oven. While she was working in the kitchen, you curled up on the couch and flipped the TV on, settling on ‘Rick Steves’ Europe’ reruns. Rick’s comforting voice began to lull you to sleeping and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

Melissa walked in to tell you she was ready and found you fast asleep. Her heart melted at the sight. She draped the couch blanket over you and lightly tucked it in so as to not disturb your slumber. ‘How could anyone hurt something so precious,’ she thought to herself. After she tucked you in, she made her way upstairs to gather your new sheets and comforter to wash them before starting on the rest of the room.

She grabbed the basket of your clothes from her own room and began to hang them up in your closet. Once she finished the task, she cleaned out the dresser and filled it with your socks, pants, and undergarments. One by one, she removed her family photos from the walls and replaced them with the handful of framed photos you brought with you. She recognized your grandparents’ photo from the one time she had met them at the beginning of your second grade year, right before they passed. They were your best friends, you were safe when they were around. Melissa decided to place the picture on your nightstand so that they’d be watching over you every night. Lastly, she organized your toiletries in the guest bathroom and set out a fresh set of towels and one of her robes.

Satisfied with her progress, she took a short break to check on you, change over the laundry, and take out the lasagna. You were still asleep and she didn’t want to disturb you so she ate alone in the dining room and texted her mother.

-Ma: Hot date?

-Mel: Nah. You remember me telling you about Y/N?

-Ma: You’ve talked about her for the last ten years, yeah I remember. Is the poor kid okay? Her parents treating her like shit again?

-Mel: They kicked her to the curb, said she wasn’t welcome back. She’s staying with me for as long as she needs to.

-Ma: Of course I’ll set an extra place for her, Amore. She need anything? You need anything?

-Mel: She needs all the love she can get, just make her feel like family. I’ve got everything else handled. Thanks, Ma.

-Ma: We can do that. Talk soon.

She finished her meal and gathered the clean bedding from the laundry room, making her way back upstairs to make your bed. Once the sheets were on, she fluffed the comforter and pillows before opening your backpack to retrieve your favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Bunz. Even at eighteen, you slept with him tucked in your arms every night. She hugged the well-loved bunny to her heart and thought back to the day she gave him to you. Right before holiday break your third grade year, she pulled you aside at dismissal and tucked him into your backpack. She told you to give him a hug whenever you needed to feel loved and she wasn’t around to give you a hug herself. Little did she know, that was the only gift you received that year.

Melissa placed him in the middle of the pillows, like the cherry on top, and went back downstairs to wake you for dinner. She sat on the arm of the couch and gently began to run her fingers through your hair. “You need to eat somethin’, sweetheart,” she whispered as your eyes fluttered open. You stretched and sat up, leaning your head against her leg.

“What time is it?”

“About 7:30. You’ve been through a lot the last 24 hours, figured you could use the rest. I got your room all set up for ya. I’ll heat up your plate and we can watch a movie before bed. How’s that sound?”

You rolled off the couch and rubbed your eyes. “Sounds good,” you yawned. You followed the redhead into the kitchen and sat at the counter. She warmed your plate in the microwave and placed it in front of you with a glass of water. You demolished your meal like you hadn’t eaten in days, complimenting her cooking after every other bite. You washed your dishes and then made your way back to the living room, joined by Melissa. She turned on one of your favorite comedy movies and watched the light return to your eyes a little more with each scene.

Sitting there, laughing at the stupid jokes on the screen with the closest thing you’ve ever had to a real mom, with a full stomach and a warm bed waiting for you upstairs, you realized something.

For the first time in your eighteen years of life, you were finally home.

[spadesolace]

the idea of yoo - 1.1. alone with yoo (half-written)

previous | next

words: 1.5k

warnings: a bit of homophobia, discussion about religion, implied cheating

the sun shining through a small window, your eyes twitch as the sunlight hits you perfectly. in your line of sight, sight adjusting through the bright yet also dim room. it smells a bit rugged, similar to yeonjun’s perfume he had made you and rei smell before his date, bed is a bit harder than your usual one at home, and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. in the corner of your eye, was the table tennis - you’re at the choi household.

slowly sitting up, looking for your phone that yeonjun had placed on his bedside table, along with some medicine, water, and hangover drink. underneath was a note with messy handwriting.

hey, when you wake up i would be at rehearsals for tomorrow’s dance battle. left some medicine so drink it right away. yeonie

as you hastily drank the medicine and pick up the hangover drink, ready to leave and get some proper meal. the sound of footsteps and chatter was making its way towards your destination. vaguely, you could make up yeonjun’s mom’s voice and yoo jimin.

“yeonjun is at rehearsal, but you can leave that here on his-” his mom sees you by the bed, wearing your coat and getting your stuff, along with hiding some of the letters that you’ve written for yeonjun’s recipe to food critics to try, and letters from jimin.

“yeonjun’s japanese friend, didn’t hear you come in.”

“just dropping off some notes.”

“jimin is also drop-” the faint breaking of glass was heard upstairs, making yeonjun’s mom rush back upstairs.

the last time you were alone with jimin was when you bumped into her in the hallway, the start of it all. it’s a bit awkward, looking like you spent the night - in which you did - but also it seemed like you’re dating yeonjun. deep inside, you’re thinking how pretty jimin is despite it being so early in the morning.

“hi.” she breaks the tension, a small smile plastered on her face.

“hi.” your breath is taken away; standing in front of a girl who you considered could have been sculpted by aphrodite.

“are you and paul-” then you remember, she’s not here for you.

“OH GOSH NO! he is totally 100 percent into you.”

“you know about… us?”

“that’s what the notes and books are for, he wanted to do some extra reading.” jimin seemed amused by it, partially because no one has been that thoughtful to learn more about their interests and hobbies.

the awkward silence slowly crept back, part of you wanted to leave, no longer wishing to take part in this. the girl you developed feelings for is talking to a guy who you helped in writing the letters for, making an image of him in her mind. 

you deceived jimin.

you deceived yeonjun.

they fell in love with the image you had made to deceive both of them.

all you could hear coming out of jimin’s mouth was self-deprecating words regarding her first impression during their first date. nothing made sense anymore, nothing held you back.

“you could never be an idiot. yeonjun wouldn’t think of you that way.” you still held back, not wanting to expose yourself. there is the desire to leave and run away, forget this entire thing happened.

“i should probably get back home.” picking your bag up, noticing jimin was holding onto a piece of paper.

“this- its- its nothing really, something i made during the trip.” still she handed it over to you, lyrics; you assume it to be lyrics of a new song she wrote.

“i like one of the lines from the second verse… lonely yet hopeful.” giving it back to jimin, smiling shyly about to leave her in this man cave that is yeonjun’s room.

“he’ll love it.” i love it.

“yeah…”

“i should get going.”

“can i come with?”

you don’t know how it happened, how you’re walking in the middle of an abandoned train track kicking a stone as you pass by the abandoned cart, no longer filled with writings. there’s another one, not that far off that you and rei go to when you need a change in your routine.

“you’re not scared?” stopping in your tracks, slight confusion evident in your face.

“no, i’m used to this route. a change in scenery.” jimin hummed as the stone you were kicking seemed to have merged with the rest of the pebbles.

“you wanna get out of here?”

it feels surreal, you’re in jimin’s car, listening to the radio mostly 90’s music playing, windows down and the wind blowing your hair. months ago, you couldn’t believe that jimin knew who you were, yet here you are.

“where we going?”

“my favorite secret place.”

you stopped in the middle of a forest, a part of you sort of feared where this was going because who would bring someone to a forest if not to kill them? or maybe you’ve been watching too much true crime that rei has been so adamant in you watching it with her. when you saw the clearing, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to be killed by the girl you like. it’s just a hot spring, and it worried you when jimin started unpacking her duffel bag, only to pull out a small radio. you’re just stuck in this place with her, turning your back at her when she started removing her sundress. you’re not sure if she removed her undergarments but just the idea that she’s probably skinny dipping makes your face heat up.

jimin turns around as your gaze looks everywhere except for her. you looked at her back for a bit, toned, smooth, and her hair despite being wet already it stil remained smooth and silky. so, you stripped, not fully. she only turned back to face you when she heard a bit of water splashing. an embarrassed smile was evident as jimin takes in what you’re wearing.

“oh i almost forgot.” you thought it was from the heat from the hot spring that made you feel this way but confirming that jimin is indeed naked walking around the area and setting up the small radio. you submerged yourself underwater.

“there’s no cell service here, nothing could reach us here.”

“so if you kill me, completely leave me here to decompose and scream, no one would come to rescue me?”

it was a lighthearted joke, one that made jimin laugh as she dipped back into the spring and you still avoided looking at her body. things were going well, talking about interests, family, religion, everything under the sun as you played around in the water.

“i don’t think i’ve hanged out with a girl and not talk about boys before.”

“oh… sorry.”

“no, no… it’s nice, actually.” you nod to her statement, maybe this could be a way to help yeonjun out.

“yeonjun’s nice.” jimin looks at you, pondering. she can’t put a finger on it but she tries to explain her emotions.

“he’s... confusing.” 

“how?”

”when i’m with him, i feel... safe. he’s a sweet guy, don’t get me wrong. then he writes these things that feel... not so safe.” you tilt your head as you process everything, you wrote those things, the letters, the messages, everything - you wrote it.

“not safe?”

“makes me wonder, think about things - all this time i was set on this idea of marrying jeno but then here comes yeonjun when i asked god for a sign. god doesn’t know either or he’s not telling.”

“i don’t believe in god.”

“that must be so nice.”

“it’s not…” you slowly submerged yourself into the water, jimin still observing you, everything feels weird. “it’s lonely.”

“i wished i knew what i believed in.” you tune everything out, listening to jimin’s rant about jeno already planning their future wedding, her asking a sign to god if that was what love is. simply accept it and be grateful. but the letter appeared the following day, the letter you wrote and what started this whole thing.

“silly, right?” you shake your head as you swim closer to her.

“no, its not.”

“but you know what’s silly?” everything moved so fast that your oversized shirt was removed from you, a triumphant smile but easily replaced by her laughing.

“did you layer?” now, you’re left with your undergarment and a black tank top.

time went by so slowly, you’re talking to her about life, love, religion, while floating on your back next to her listening to a radio playing old songs. the current song playing was your mom’s favorite song, waiting for the best part, the climax as she would say.

“my mom also told us that every song, movie, story has a best part.” patiently waiting, letting it pass and enjoy each other’s presence and the song you heavily associated with your mom. a part of you wants to reach out to jimin and hold her hand as the song continues on. 

“was that it?”

“you asking or stating?”

the best part - is when you actually hold onto jimin’s hand as you float like otters. the song playing in the background as the lyrics perfectly encapsulate what you feel for her. words can’t express your feelings - pain from knowing the girl you like is straight and seeing your only friend but also happiness from getting such a small moment together that you’ll cherish till you leave this little place called kwangya.

you may not believe in god, but if falling in love with yoo jimin is a sin. call me a sinner, then.

taglist [CLOSED]:

@1luvkarina @beawolfbealionbeyou @pandafuriosa60 @txtbrainrot @rinapomu @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @noascats @thefckghost @petruchiosstuff

[cod-dump]

Alright, so I saw that someone wanted more food insecurity with Ghost, but idk if this counts as food insecurity—it's whatever. It includes food, so it counts. ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌

New Prompt: Ghost has trouble telling when he's hungry until he's literally starving and has really bad time blindness while on leave (like me).

On top of his shit childhood, Simon's teenage years brought on a whole lot of issues with appetite. Despite being a growing boy, Simon has a very unique appetite due to his previous eating habits mentioned in the other ask. He kinda fucked up his hunger levels. He would eat whatever whenever, but he was never actually hungry or at least—he couldn't really tell. This caused problems when he would unknowingly go the whole day without eating something because he couldn't find any scraps to snack on, and couldn't tell that he had been starving until his stomach loudly expressed its anger at him the next morning.

He never really acknowledged it as a serious problem. The military already gave him a set schedule and timeframe on when to eat, so it was never an issue of missing meals and accidentally starving himself.

Until he went on leave for 3 months with Johnny.

There was no longer a set schedule on when to eat since Ghost was sleeping in most of the time like the grumpy black cat that he is. So, sometimes, when Johnny's out in the morning doing whatever and Ghost wakes up, he doesn't eat—like at all. He turns on the TV and absentmindedly watches some random documentary about penguins while mindlessly cleaning around the house and—oh shit, Johnny's home. What time is it?

Why is Johnny already back home? He's supposed to be back by 7pm and it's only—Ghost briefly checked the time on his phone—7:20pm... How the hell...

That was when Ghost suddenly realized that his stomach had literally screaming at him for probably hours. He forgot to eat. He hadn't eaten since he woke up 8 hours ago. He woke up at 11, and it's already night time!

Johnny had a very disappointed expression when he found out that Ghost had done things around the house like clean up and fold clothes and shower, but didn't eat a single thing. Johnny expected Ghost to find leftovers in the fridge like he would back on base, but apparently his LT forgot to look at a clock in between his activities. He was disappointed, but he also had a pretty bad case of time blindness when he was super involved in something, so he couldn't really blame the man. They both learned something new and that info was tucked away for later.

Instead, the two went to the kitchen and Johnny made three of his signature, god-tier-level sandwiches; two for Simon, one for Johnny. It was something quick to make, and they always tasted good. It hit just the perfect spot for someone who hasn't eaten in 8 hours in favor of being productive in an empty household.

From that point forward, Johnny added to his ever-growing list of things about his Ghost. Make sure to remind Simon to eat every 3-4 hours or he will forget (specifically on leave). Simon learned to look forward to Johnny's messages telling him to grab something to munch on everyday.

(i wonder what those text reminders would look like ngl, also someone make up the type of sandwiches that Soap makes bc that man knows how to make a mean sandwich)

— 🍄🍂

Ghost is me fr. Time blindness and all

___

Message from Johnny: Hey babe! Go eat the lunch I made for you and some water! Be home later ❤️

Message from Johnny: I need you to go stuff your face with some food and send me a picture of your best chipmunk impression! That’s an order, soldier!

Message from Johnny: If that can of crisps that I bought you isn’t empty by the time I get home there will be no Sherlock marathon or cuddles!! I MEAN IT

Message from Johnny: I counted the water bottles before I left this morning. I will know if you didn’t drink one of them.

Message from Johnny: Simon my love, it’s been two hours since I left this morning. There’s a sandwich waiting for you in the fridge with a can of soda. Make sure to eat it ❤️❤️

Message from Johnny: if you didn’t eat the stew i made for you i will cry and there will be no kisses or cuddles!! 🥺🥺

Message from Johnny: *picture of a hotdog* I showed you my dog so be polite and show me yours

[isaacswhy]

surprise

softwilly x gn!reader (sfw) summary: nick comes home a day early from his business trip and surprises you. a little bit of "missing my bf" angst requested?: no

Life without the boys around the house was hard. It was a planned thing, so you knew well in advance, but it still sucked one way or another. You lived with Nick, your boyfriend, and his content creator friends in their group house in Austin. It was a hard adjustment from when you moved with Nick from his hometown in New Jersey, but a welcome one. You got to become close friends with each and every member of the household, loving your new roommates.

However, they'd leave about once a month. Conventions, sponsored trips, or just business calls that required them all to fly out across the country. No matter what it was, you were always left alone in that big house. You didn't mind the peace and quiet, but you truly just missed the comfort and company all the boys gave you, especially Nick.

They were out for a week, this time. In Los Angeles, a brand needed them to come out and do a business meeting to coordinate a new sponsorship. It was nothing new to you. Nick told you two weeks ahead of time, and when it came down to them driving out to the airport, you wistfully waved your goodbyes.

The week was spent inside, mostly. You had a computer in the guest room you'd play games on most of the day, stopping to use their little home gym setup in the garage for a brief workout, then you'd retire to Nick's room and sleep in his bed, in his clothes. It was the most you could do to not break down at the concept of him not being around.

Luckily, the air conditioning was just fixed, so you barely escaped the June heat. It beat down on the house hard, and was one of the main reasons you never escaped it. Only occasionally would you leave the house to go pick up food, a coffee, or maybe a trip to the swimming pool. Other than that, the house was your refuge.

By day six, you were worn down. It was hard to stay focused on any individual task and you found yourself laying in Nick's bed on your phone for hours in the morning. The hoodie you wore was losing Nick's smell, but you couldn't be bothered to change. It took a lot out of you even to take a shower the night before, but you managed it.

By the early afternoon you just sat on the couch in the living room catching up on an anime Nick had told you about. Things felt excessively dull and you could tune out your worries with a show in the background. The clock was about to strike four when suddenly, you heard keys in the door.

You whipped around to see the doorknob turning, the door opening as you tried to scramble to your feet. An intruder? A house of this size could merit it, but they had the key. All your questions melted away as soon as you watched a familiar man step inside.

Black hair, slightly grown out, in a tank top with a tattoo up his arm. Pierced ears and a big smile on his face as soon as he saw you. Nick. You flew into his arms.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You said, laughing out of sheer amazement.

"I came home a day early to see you!" Nick giddily responded, hugging you back tightly.

"Why? Don't you have to do a photo shoot today?" You broke from the hug and met his eyes.

Nick shrugged. "I stayed late yesterday to do the photos so I could fly out early. Are you watching Demon Slayer?"

You nodded. "Of course I am. You told me to watch it, right?"

"Yes the hell I did. Want me to order some food and get you caught up?"

"This is why I love you, Nick. Yes, a thousand times yes." You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

You walked back to your blanket on the couch, slipping under it as your boyfriend pulled out his phone and ordered some food on DoorDash. He asked you what you wanted, and worked around your vague indecision. It wasn't long before he slipped on the other side of the couch with a blanket of his own, resuming your show. Of course, Nick had to make a few comments on where you were in the show and the things "you'd like".

Your food arrived not long after and the two of you spent the rest of the day watching shows. You were finally caught up, so you were satisfied with that day's work. Nick had to pull you up from the couch, walking together back to his room.

The two of you spent about an hour laying on Nick's bed catching up about the last week. He informed you the flight back to Austin would be around ten in the morning for the rest of the group, so you wouldn't see them until around one or two at the earliest, with the complications of airports and flight times.

Sleep came easy in Nick's arms that night. You yearned for his embrace for almost an entire week, and it coming early couldn't have made for a better night's sleep. You could die happy. You could spend all your days like that, in his arms and protected from the rest of the world. He was your everything.

The next day, you woke up cold. Nick wasn't next to you, and you frowned at the idea that he was gone. You were then greeted by another pleasant surprise of pancakes as you walked into the kitchen, your boyfriend giving you a wide grin, proud of his work. They were delicious.

It was a morning of shows, watching YouTube videos, and waiting for your roommates to arrive. It didn't take long for them to, around 2:25 they blundered into the house with carry-on bags galore. You assisted a few of them getting their things situated in their rooms, while Nick handled the few you didn't.

You carried Isaac's bag into his room, the last of the bunch you'd have to worry about. He had a suitcase in hand, but it didn't phase him. He was far too big and strong, for your standards.

"You didn't have to carry that," Isaac mentioned on your way to his room.

"Then why'd you ask me to?" Your eyebrows furrowed, "If you're so strong that you didn't need my help."

"The strong part is true, I'll give you that, but I thought I'd get a second away to talk."

"Oh. What is it?"

"Nick, he flew out early to see you." Isaac pursed his lips, clearly considering what his next words would hold. "I've never seen him so.. head over heels for someone, I guess. I've known him for years, and in the year you've been together, I've never seen him happier. Leaving us early to go be with you just solidified that fact in my head."

This shouldn't have shocked you, realistically, but it did. You'd known Nick for three years, but being with him blinded you to how he'd changed over the last year. To Isaac, he was outside looking in.

"Thanks for telling me that. I'd never thought about it in that way, I guess. I love him a lot. He does so much for me. Never in a million years did I think I'd be dating the guy I had a fat crush on in high school, living in a mansion in Texas." You explained.

"He truly loves you, too. He'd go to the ends of the earth for you, if it meant being together another five minutes, I'd say. Thanks for making my best friend happy, man."

You hugged Isaac briefly. "No problem. Anytime."

[planetharrie]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Toddler Tantrums

This is also available on my Wattpad @PlanetHarrie.

In which Harry and Lucille’s little doll of a daughter turns two and into a diva, causing mayhem in the household.. 👧🏡🧸

⭐️

The Terrible Twos; The phase neither Harry or Lucille had been looking forward to, at ALL. Having it only been a week since their little Opal had turned two, all of the sudden she'd become angry, whiny and clingy—mainly towards her mother. And with Lucille being less than a month away from giving birth to their second child, she did not having the patience or physical ability to tame a screaming and kicking child.

One night, after a 5 hour-long battle with Opal to get her into bed, Lucille had snapped and broke down to Harry in their bedroom. She was exhausted and burnt-out. The biting and scratching had caused red marks up her forearms but overall, the sound of her precious one wailing and screaming 'I hate you!’ had broke her.

Harry had been helping as much as he could, but Opal seemed to only want her mother; whether it be physically clinging onto Lucille's leg or screaming in her face 'I want a new mummy!', Opal would not let Harry pick her up and would cover her little ears every time he tried to speak to her.

So, one Saturday, Harry forced his wife out of the house for a day out with her sister and mum for some much-needed girl-time and shopping; leaving Harry to deal with the devil.

It was only ten-thirty AM and Opal had already kicked off; what had started off as a cute chasing-game as Harry raced after Opal, who'd escaped the bath and refused to get dressed, had turned into tears.

"Opal, Daddy wants you to get dressed—OW!" Harry was knelt in the middle of the hallway, holding Opal in his chest when she squirmed and head-butted his chin, "No hitting! That's very naughty; You've hurt Daddy!" He tasted that bitter, metallic taste on his tongue and grimaced.

"N-No, Dada!" She continued to squirm in his grasp, pushing her arms into his chest in attempt of escaping. She let out an echoing screech when a shirt was suddenly pulled over her head and began arching her back as she fought. Harry, with his immaculate and impressive amount of patience, calmly cooed and shushed her gently.

"You can't go out and play without clothes on, baby."

Opal was a proper girly-girl; she loved wearing pink and having Lucille paint her little nails and plait her fawn-brown curls. She loved surprising her Dad with her new look, twirling and smiling as she showed him her outfit. This behaviour was completely out of the ordinary for her, and every tantrum was like a beating to the body for both parents.

"Daddy! P-Please," A sob wracked her voice and Harry instantly let go, sighing with defeat as Opal clambered off his lap and stood in front of him. Her curls were still wet from her bath and her cheeks and eyes were red and puffy.

"I hate you!" She screamed, clenching her fists and running past into the living room, still undressed.

"Fuck." Harry dragged his hand down his face. He was angry—furious even—but also heartbroken. He'd watched many episodes of Super Nanny but he never thought he'd actually have to deal with such horrific temper tantrums from such a small being. Maybe she's hungry? He thought for a second, but rolled his eyes and pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He got up from his kneeling position. His knees clicked as he stood and waddled into the kitchen. He silently began clearing up breakfast. The dining table had spilt Cheerios and milk and juice all over it's oak top and Harry prayed that nothing would stain.

A little while had passed. Harry had eaten an apple, made a smoothie for himself, done the dishes and was currently sat on a stool scrolling through his phone as he waited for a pan of beans to heat up on the stove. Beans on toast was Opal's favourite meal ever since she'd caught an awful stomach bug a few weeks back. It was also Lucille's comfort food too, hence why it was offered to Opal for her try. Harry hoped that this early lunch would win Opal around so that they can have a talk together.

Harry looked up from his phone when he heard a faint, "Daddy.." from somewhere in the house. He hadn't heard a peep from her since she'd stormed off and he slightly feared that she was coming back for another round.

Little bare feet pattered into the kitchen. Opal stood in the doorway, still undressed in her nappy and her hair dry but knotted. In her hands was a piece of paper.

"Daddy, I called you an' you didn' answer.." She mumbled with a pout.

"Sorry, baby, I didn't hear you.." Harry lied. He put his phone on the counter and gave his daughter his full attention. "Have you come to tell me somethin'?" He hoped she'd come to make peace and apologise. Harry, she two-years-old. What two-year-old says sorry willingly? He told himself.

Opal stared blankly at the floor, swaying slightly on her feet before gently passing him the piece of paper. "I made it while you was mad,"

Harry took it gracefully. It was a drawing of three stick figures; one tall stickman, a smaller one wearing a tutu and a medium-sized one with—what Harry guessed to be—a baby bump. He chuckled at her sweet attempt of drawing the family. Red 'hearts' were dotted around the page and in the corner (very, very small) was a written 'sorey' underlined in purple gel-pen. Harry's heart swelled and he bent down on the stool and offered his arm out to bring her in for a side-hug.

"Thank you, my baby. This is very kind of you, well done!" He squeezed out a little giggle from her, "But I wasn't mad, I could never get mad at you, Opie."

She pulled away and chewed on her lip, "I'm still sowey, though.."

"I know you are. You can't keep being nasty to Mummy and me. It's not nice, is it?"

She shook her head.

"I think Mummy deserves an apology too, don't you?"

"Mhm! I will run up to her the second she comes into my room and I'll scream it and hug her and I'll never ever be mean again!" She grinned, showing her baby teeth; Harry hadn't seen her smile properly in a little while. "And I'll even draw her another drawin'"

"That's a very good idea, baby!" She grinned again and her eyes wandered up to the hissing noise from the stove.

"Are you making beans on toast?!" Her voice raised an octave in excitement.

"Yup! Your favourite, hm?" Harry picked up his little girl to help him stir the beans. They turned up the radio and sang and danced along to ME! by Taylor Swift, which was Opal's favourite. The two settled down on the sofa with a tray each with a portion of beans on toast steaming on their laps and Opal requested that they watch Trolls as she ate.

-

Lucille came home a few hours later with some bags of shopping and a take-away pizza, surprised when she was not greeted by neither her hyper-clingy daughter or knackered husband. Placing the bags onto the kitchen counter, she entered the dimly-lit living room only to find her two curled up on the couch asleep with the end-credits of Trolls displayed on the TV. Harry's head was tilted back against the sofa with Opal's head laid on a pillow on his lap. She had orange sauce around her mouth and was cocooned cutely in a blanket. Lucille smiled and ran her hand gently over her large, pregnant stomach before spotting a drawing on the coffee table. In bright letters was 'Sorry Mummy!' Lucille laughed to herself softly and assumed Harry had helped her as there was no way Opal could spell either of those words without help. Harry stirred and lifted his head up from the back of the couch, rubbing sleep from his eye. He glanced up and spotted his wife.

"Oh—hi, love." He rasped.

"Hi." She smiled, running her hand through his hair. "Busy day?" She teased, and by Harry's look on his face, she already knew the answer.

"Busy is an understatement."

⭐️

[pebblysand]

Hi can you do me a prompt? Cause I LOVE your writing! 💗

Ginny comes home from the 2014 quidditch world cup-reporting after a long long time away from harry and kids!

did it take me two and a half years to fill this prompt? yes. as evidence that no one should ever lose hope.

.

spring rolls, pizzas and curries

.

Tonight, after she gets home - after a smiling kiss hoisted up to the corner of his mouth, tippy toes and tight hugs to the kids - after a warm shower and a change of clothes, they'll order in.

It's the end of summer, that year. Leaves wilting in the trees; the wireless runs repetitive adverts for Hallowe'en decorations and this morning, when he headed into work, Harry noticed an irreversible sort of chill in the air; when Ginny comes down later, her hair wet over her shoulders, she'll be wearing a jumper. Lily and Al will soon hound her with questions, about the World Cup and about Namibia or about something else, and James will hurry into the kitchen too, just as she will pour herself a large glass of wine. He will be loud and lanky and almost-teenage. 'Where's food?' he'll ask, then.

And: 'Well, hello, Ronald,' she will laugh. Say.

Chinese, Indian or Italian - the kids will have their pick. It's a long-standing tradition in the Potter household since the dreadful winter of '09, when James had the flu and Lily was sniffling and Harry spent five days battling family germs on his own until Ginny came back from a work trip to save them all. He tiredly sunk into the couch next to her and: 'You should have stayed there,' he observed. Sighed like a headache. 'You're gonna catch it too.'

She shrugged. Smiled. Laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't have the heart to push her away. 'Let's order in, yeah?'

Harry will phone in. Everybody's favourites memorised like the faded lines at the back of his hand. There will be noise - James arguing with Al over the TV remote, Lily talking to herself, playing with her animal figurines and toy soldiers. She's built a whole ranch with Playmobils in her bedroom: fake horses and fake cowboys and fake fences - her magic makes it all move of its own accord - it's a bit of a nightmare.

The kind of nightmare Harry doesn't mind having.

They'll eat pizza on the couch or nems from clear plastic boxes scattered across the kitchen table, and the kids will fill Ginny in on everything she missed. Lily won't stop chatting and 'Mum' this and 'Mum' that, and James will say: 'Oh, will you shut up for once?' One of them - or both of them - will automatically throw back: 'James, don't talk to your sister like that.'

There will be second servings, thirds. Harry will smile and laugh, and feel like a weight lifted off his chest the moment she opened the front door just as easily as he will later clear the plates, with a simple wave of his wand. Ginny will go up to unpack, and he'll try to convince the kids to go to bed - with moderate success. James will try to convince him he needs a new broom, with no chance of success. Al will wandlessly tie his brother's shoelaces together before quietly retreating to his bedroom, a loud tumble ensuing with his victim falling flat on his face at the top of the staircase. He will deny having done any magic the next morning.

'Prove it,' he'll say.

Harry will want to smile (like a headache, too).

And, you know, he wonders - sure - but he's not jealous. Being jealous of his own kids would be fucking weird and, anyway, he's over it, now. He's even stopped being bitter. Ginny hasn't stopped being angry but there's something almost comforting about it, about her anger and her capacity for unrelenting outrage when they sent Petunia a card last Christmas and she wrote back: Please, take me off your mailing list.

'Cunt,' she said.

He winced or cringed, he's not sure. 'Yup.'

He's not jealous - not bitter - but he does wonder. He wonders and thinks of James. So, so tiny, in Ginny's belly. The first time he felt a kick against the tips of his fingers and held his breath - like, forever. And Ginny, who asked why he couldn't sleep, that night, watched him puff cigarette smoke out the window. 'I'm nervous,' he said.

'I'm the one giving birth,' she laughed.

'What kind of father do you think I'll be?'

He thinks of James and he thinks of Tom, sometimes. His palm against the skin of her stomach was sweaty - like warm, summer nights.

And, he looks at the kids and he wonders. What it would have been like. Growing up like that.

With them, you know?

He thinks of James again. Of James and of Albus and of Lily. He wonders if they know. That he's happy. That they're happy. That he's not jealous or bitter or angry. And, that love tastes like food. Like strawberries on Ginny's lips, and spring rolls, and pizzas and curries.

[amethystamanda]

Historical Gigs: Midwife/Suggestions for others

These are sets of odd jobs that your sims can take on the side to make some money or help out in the community. I haven't seen any specifically historically-based ones, so I decided to make some.

Currently, there's one set, with plans for more. There's also a form linked below to give suggestions.

These are rabbitholes only.

MIDWIFE GIGS:

Why I chose this one to start: I've heard stories all my life about my own great-grandmother, Aunt Rachel, who would be called out of bed at literally any time of the day, any day of the year, to get in a tiny boat to head out to help a woman give birth. She would be gone for days, leaving her own family behind so that another one would hopefully have not only a new member, but also keep the mother/wife/daughter that they already had.

A general historical career option for women, throughout most of history, going back literally thousands of years. I tried my best to be fairly non-specific in my language so that it should cover most eras. There's reference to 'the Lady' and 'the young maid,' both of which should be fairly generic, I think.

There are 5 different gigs at present, with different recommended skill levels. I chose parenting skill, as that deals with children, and I would assume most midwives would historically have been mothers, grandmothers, etc. They will also gain a tiny bit of parenting skill at the gig.

Male sims can't see these gigs, since it's historically specifically a woman's profession. Teen sims can see some, but not all, since I would think experience would be expected for helping the Lady than for lower level gigs.

The customers vary by gig--a man looking for help for his wife (he may not be married, but he should be a male sim), a woman, or a child/teen. If you don't have enough sims in your save, some may be generated. No babies will be born as a result of these gigs.

The length and pay vary. Not all gigs will show at once--some prefer higher levels of experience/a higher reputation. They're available on the phone or computer (assuming your computer shows Odd Jobs, I can't guarantee it will work on all cc computers), and presumably anywhere else Odd Jobs show, if you have a mod to make them show up elsewhere.

They're available whenever Odd Jobs are available, I haven't altered that, even though a midwife would be called out at all hours of the day and night. They refresh daily. There is a delay before your sim leaves--they should leave at the start of the next hour. That gives them time to gather their supplies, put on clothes that are easy to clean or that they don't mind not getting clean, tell their eldest daughter to mind the children, etc.

At present, the longest is, I think, 12 hours. In reality, a midwife may have been gone for days or weeks, until the mother could manage on her own/arrangements were made. That was what they did. But it's not really realistic for most people's aging to have a sim gone in a rabbithole for a week. I'm also not sure what would happen if you switched households--I think they'd be gone until after you switched back, and then they'd just continue where you left off, which would be okay for a few hours, but not so much if it's going to be days. They also would often go without pay other than the room and board that was provided, or be paid in food/other goods, but that's also not something that would reflect well in game.

Some of the endings of the gigs aren't pretty. A failure for a midwife is a failure for more than the midwife, and I did not pretend otherwise. Feel free to skip this one if you can't/don't want to face that. Some of the endings are happy, and you should see more of these if you pick gigs that match your sim's skill level. There are two happy and two sad endings for each gig.

DOWNLOAD:

You NEED Island Living. That's where odd jobs come from.

The customer filter file (amethystlilac_HistoricalOddJobs_CustomerFiltersREQUIRED.package) is required. It will be used across multiple types of gigs to determine who the customers are. You WILL get errors and the job picker won't open if you don't have that file.

Choose whichever of the other files you want in your game. Currently that's only Midwife.

Download: http://simfileshare.net/folder/224340/

SUGGESTIONS:

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Recommended Other Mods to Complement These:

By @midnitetech, Odd_Jobs_HideMaxis. Hides the game's odd jobs so that custom odd jobs are much more likely to appear. Only use this is you don't want to also use EA's odd jobs. Available here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/mini-mods-69172769

By Ilkavelle, Odd Jobs Unlocked For Children. Not currently useful for anything I have, but likely in the future. And the One Time Jobs for Children and Teens that it works with is another possible source of income for some historical saves. Available here: https://ilkavelle.wixsite.com/simsquest/post/one-time-jobs-for-children-and-teens

[panopticonrpg]

EVENT 01. PART 2: THE FEAST

Your new home...

You’re off the cruise ship - but where are you? There’s nothing else in the horizon but deep ocean; inland, the beach gives way to thick wilderness, and a raised plateau with small, bungalow-style houses peppering the landscape. They all look exactly the same, and are scattered like a small village - or like someone tossed them on the land like dice on a board. To the east, a large brick and stone building squats in a field. Something about the building hums; closer inspection reveals generators situated around the back. The same with a warehouse building to the east - in fact, generators seem to power all electricity around the empty village…but what was powering the generators?  No gas tank, no batteries, no solar panels even.  But they chugged along nonetheless.

The cameras on the tall poles lovingly follow your movements, everywhere. What catches your senses - particularly your nose - is the scent of food.  On the coast overlooking over the ocean is a wooden patio, spacious enough to hold over 200 people.  The patio is empty, save for one long table near what looks like a barbeque-and-bar counter.  Under covered nets to protect it from wandering critters, are dishes and dishes of food. Hot and cold food, non-alcoholic beverages in large dispensers, dishes to please every palate and dietary needs.  Given how empty this place is, it's unclear how the food - freshly made and beautifully arranged - even appeared.  Was it here before you woke up, or did it manifest somehow during the panic of waking up on the Odyssey? The loudspeaker message glitches, garbles up and then suddenly changes to a woman’s soft and cheery voice: COME CHECK OUT THE BUFFET AT THE HUB! You must be S̡̧̧̡̨͔̜̲̞̖̥͚̦̎T̡̜̦͖͈̥̈́̈́̓͐͘A̻̘̜̣̱̫̳͖͉͊̃̅́̄̑͘Ŗ͕̞̜̩̟͑͆͂͐̐̊̑̀̊͝͠͝͝V̛͙͍̘̟̞̓͛͒͐̇̀͑̐̋̿̈́Í̧̻̗͊̃̎͆̍̅̕͜Ņ̧̧͙̲̬̳̞͇͇̊͆́͒̋̊̔̽̕͝Ḡ̡̦͕͔̘͎̥̻̅̾̉̂̅̎̄̋͌́͝͠ (starving) after your long travel to get here.

OOC info below the cut!

OOC INFO:

The rest of the island has opened up for exploration!  Within immediate access (about a 15 minute walk from the beach) are the community areas.  The top point of the Tower is in the distance, and might be tricky to reach, as there’s a strip of wilderness and a crooked old bridge separating the community from the Tower. The black-sand beach is about a half-hour walk, and the volcano island is a ten-minute swim (by a strong swimmer) to reach it.   Within the bungalows and medicenter, there are electric sockets.  (Hint: need a phone charger?  Your character might want to head back to the Odyssey).  All bungalows have plumbing and electricity, powered by the mysterious generators.  NOTE: Breaking apart a generator comes with risks - if you don’t understand the power source, can you put it back together successfully?  There are no generators to replace the ones in use. The medicentre is basic, but fully functional.  Inside the brutalist building, it looks incredibly sterile, like no one has used it since it was built.  The technology in there looks like it came from before Y2K. The warehouse is fully stocked with perishable and non-perishable food.  There are also some other basic supplies:

 somewhat shapeless clothes made of natural fabrics, heavy coats (despite the island seeming tropical)

some small household appliances, including toasters

plenty of toiletries and cleaning supplies

a few books and magazines

some cassette tapes, CDs, and old music players.  No music from after Y2K.

there are no televisions

a variety of repair and household garage small tools, mostly non-powered 

a stand-up dolly, some wheeled wagon-carts for carrying heavy things, and five bicycles.  

FINAL NOTE: The bracelets do not work yet! Patience…

[liyawritesss]

ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Pairing: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Masc!Reader

Genre: Fic

Synopsis: Riri brings you home to meet her mom for Thanksgiving, and you have a heart-to-heart about your intentions with her daughter.

Warnings: BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER SPOILER READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!, homophobia if you squint, the 'relationships' talk is briefly mentioned in regards to Riri

A/N: I have so many feelings for Riri. Comic book and MCU versions. This fic has a mix of both, I tried my best to mesh them both together smoothly. Riri is a character I already feel is gonna be close to home for me, and I can't wait to see more of Dominique Thorne's portrayal of her.

Tags: @verachii @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega

There’s no reason why Riri should be the one nervous, you think, as you pull up into the driveway of her home. If anything, you should be the one sweating bullets in the passenger seat. And yet, the irony in such a situation is almost uncanny.

The two of you pull up to three-bedroom bungalow, common in the South Shore neighborhood of Chicago, decorated festively for the holidays. Riri caught you off guard when she asked if you wanted to spend the holidays with her mom and her. Mainly because, well, you had never met her mom before. Normally you’d meet the parents before such a milestone, but Riri had been putting it off due to her own anxiety. Having been together since January, though, she came to the conclusion that it’s finally time to come clean about this part of her life.

“Baby,” you call out to her, providing a comforting hand on her knee clothed with her favorite pair of blue jeans, “it’s gonna be okay. Shit, you’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’m sorry-” she begins, leaning back into the tan-colored leather fabric of the car seat. “It’s just- this is my moms, and I haven’t brung anyone around since Nat, and-”

Natalie, the one friend Riri did have in her youth, who met an untimely death from a drive by shooting. You’ve heard this testimony a few times - Riri doesn’t like to talk about it much, but when she does, it’s always in a very serious moment.

“Riri, I get it. It’s okay,” you respond softly, giving her knee a squeeze. She looks at you with her bright, lively eyes. The same eyes that caught your attention back at that New Years Eve party where you first met. Riri had always been an introvert, but if it was something she couldn’t verbalize, her eyes could tell it all. And right now, they’re pleading for this evening to go well.

“You know you still have time to chicken out-”

“Don’t even try it, Ri,”

This exchange brings a short laugh from the young and gifted engineer, as she watches you gather your phone and keys and exit the car. In a short moment, you’re at her side, opening the car door for Riri to step out. Her pink cashmere sweater does little to nothing to protect her from the November chill that has set itself into the air. Once the car is locked up, Riri’s feet, the only thing kept warm on her body thanks to the black ankle cut Ugg boots she had on, makes a beeline for the side door that leads into the humble abode. You follow shortly after, the wind starting to break through your clothes as well.

“Ma, I’m home!” Riri calls out from the doorway, and immediately the smell of soul food consumes both of you. The smells are distinctive - freshly baked mac-n-cheese that just got pulled from the oven, the greens simmering on low heat on the stove ready for plating, amongst other staple foods of a black household. The lighting is warm and inviting, and there’s some old school blues being played on a speaker coming from the kitchen. If this isn’t what home feels like, you don’t know what does.

Riri gestures to you to follow her as her mother responds from the kitchen. Riri’s mother turns from the stove to embrace her daughter, and is slightly caught off guard by the other presence in the home.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone else over, baby,” the older woman says as she releases Riri from a signature mama-bear hug. She smiles warmly at you, to which you shoot one back. There’s an uneasy pit in your stomach caused by the anxiety of such a moment, but in an effort to make a good first impression, you ignore it and make the first move.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” You begin, extending your hand out to greet the older woman. She takes your hand into her own, and the softness of her skin spreads a calming warmth throughout your arm. "Oh, hun, I ain't no ma'am yet. Call me Ronnie."

“Momma, this is (Y/N),” Riri chimes in, swallowing the lump that’s formed in her throat from the interaction thus far, “my girlfriend.”

What you expect is for the world to freeze, for Riri’s mom to go stiff and ridged with discomfort. You expect her warm demeanor to change in an instant, for her to retract her hand, to give you a curt greeting and not another word. It’s the only experience you’ve ever had when it came to moments like this with previous partners.

And yet, they never come. Instead, Riri’s mother pulls you into a mama-bear hug, officially welcoming you into her home.

“‘Bout time she brought you home, had me wondering if y’all were hitting a bumpy patch,” says the older woman, which has your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Riri said she hadn’t mentioned she was dating anyone, let alone a girl, to her mother, so why did it sound like she knew all along?

“Oh, don’t look like that, baby,” says Riri’s mother as she lets you go, catching the look on your face, and the nervous one that Riri sports as she stands off to the side, chewing on her thumb nail like it’s one of the chicken drumsticks that sit pretty in a serving basket on the kitchen island.

“Forgive me,” you begin, sheepishly fumbling with your hands, “I just thought- Riri never said-”

“C’mon now,” the older woman interrupts, “a mother always knows.” And that’s enough for you to drop the subject, but Riri, on the other hand, is staring wide eyed at her mother in disbelief. “Momma?!”

“Oh hush, child,” the older woman replies, “you come back from MIT and suddenly you outside every other weekend. Of course you got yourself a lil’ boo, otherwise you’d be in here every Saturday morning hogging my damn TV!”

“Momma-!”

“Ion wanna hear it,” says Riri’s mother, raising her hand in the air signaling the halt of the conversation, “now take (Y/N) and get the good dishes from the glass case and set the table. Food is just about ready.”

Frankly, you were glad Riri’s mom dismissed you two to table setting duty - you weren’t sure how long you could keep a straight face in front of her. The exchange between the three of you was something you never saw coming, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t fun, in an odd secondary coming out kind of way.

“I thought you said you never told your mom?” You mumbled to Riri as she’s setting down the china on the placemats you were putting down.

“I didn’t,” she replied, “but that mothers intuition is a bitch.”

You laugh as she continues to mumble on about how she ‘don’t go outside every other weekend’, which both of you know is a lie. The one time Riri did go to a party, it was the New Years Eve party you two met at. You weren’t a student at MIT, but a friend of one, and you were also a Chicago born, and so the two of you just clicked. If it weren’t for your adventurous nature and classic dating etiquette, the young engineer would definitely - like her mother said - be in the house during the weekend hogging the TV. She was an introvert like that, was never one to initiate a conversation nor spark a friendship. Though it never bothered you as much, and you understood how Riri came to be the person she is, and that her standoffish nature came with the territory. Riri said it herself, you were the first person she opened up to fully since the death of her step-father and best friend. You promised yourself that you would do everything in your power to not jeopardize her healing journey, and if clinging to you would aid in Riri going back to her old, energetic self, then you’d gladly do all the reassuring, pay for all your little midnight rendezvous, and everything in between.

You loved Riri, from the girl you caught sight of that fateful night, to the headstrong, confident woman she was becoming.

The dinner portion went swimmingly. Many stories were shared, including Riri coming clean about what happened in Wakanda and why she was gone for so long (there felt like a piece missing, as you could she was visibly struggling when explaining a few parts, but as this was a story previously mentioned to you and that prior she stated that a part of said story she was not able to disclose to anyone, you wouldn’t push further). Her mother was slightly rattled at the story, it being her first time hearing about her daughter getting ‘recruited’ by a foreign nation thanks to her outstanding engineering intelligence, but nonetheless, supportive. It wasn’t every day your daughter gets to be in close proximity of African royalty, after all.

Then came the story of how you two met, which was a simple as the beginning of any regular college romance - the two of you spotted each other across the room at a party, you gathered the courage (with a little help from your homegirls) to approach Riri, and you two clicked from there. You did the pleasure of excluding the bit about a drunken kiss shared under a mistletoe while dancing to the party music, unsure of how Riri’s mother would react to that part. Riri seemed thankful for the exclusion of this fact as well.

With dinner done, you offered to help with the cleanup, and with three bodies moving in synchronicity, what would have taken at least an hour minimum for cleanup was done in twenty minutes. Now, the three of you sit on the couch with the television on some random network with a random show playing. Riri’s mom sports a wine glass with her choice of champagne, while the two of you sported canned sodas. From the way the evening had went, you were all but expecting the one fated question to be asked:

‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’

“Now, (Y/N), you knew this was comin’, so I want you to answer me honestly,” the older woman begins; she’d been nursing her wine for a while now, trying not cause you any unnecessary anxiety (of which, her efforts backfired completely).

“I’m sure Riri has told you the story of her step-dad and her best friend, Natalie - bless their souls,” she takes a sip to this, as if it’s for the aforementioned people, while you adjust your sitting position to face the woman directly. Riri is behind you, her full body weight leaning onto your back, her chin resting on your shoulder, watching her mother interrogate you, fully ready to end the conversation if it becomes too out of hand. It’s almost as if she saw this coming, too, and has prepared her defenses.

“My baby don’t just bring anybody home. And I’ve been hard on her about that, because I know how men are out here. And when she came to me and told me she liked girls, I became even harder, because as a woman, I know we break hearts too, sometimes even worse.”

She takes another sip from her wine glass, and with the way your heart is pumping furiously in your chest, you’re glad that the sound of it isn't audible, otherwise you think it’d shatter the glass in her hand.

“So, I have to ask. What are your intentions with my daughter?”

You took a moment to look at Riri. Your eyes locked. You drew in a breath, and recited your answer.

“Well, I will have you know, Ms. Ronnie,” you begin, addressing the older woman by her name, “Riri came into my life at a time when everyone was leaving me. And her presence has been liberating for me. I’ve asked the universe to take those away from me who aren’t going to help me be a better person- ‘cuz when we met, I was in a dark place. The universe took those bad people away- people who weren’t going to help me excel to my highest being, and…and sent me an angel who taught me more about myself and about love than I could ever imagine learning on my own,”

The weight on your shoulder shifted ever so slightly, but you continued; “I intend on making Riri the happiest girl in the world by any means necessary. I may not have it big right now- I’m working towards making my dream work for me- but when I get my money right, I’m going to repay your daughter for saving me in my darkest moments. If she wants the world, I’ll give her the universe, because she deserves it more than anyone in the world.”

You took a pause for a moment, reaching back for Riri’s hand. Once you’ve taken into your own, interlocking your fingers, you locked eyes with the young engineer, continuing once more; “And once I’ve made her the happiest woman in the world, I plan on making her the happiest wife.”

At this point, you forgot about Riri’s mother sitting to your right on the other end of the couch. In staring into Riri’s dark onyx eyes, you were completely enveloped in her. The Versace perfume you bought for her earlier that week, the warmth of her pink sweater that contrasted against your own clothes. The way she was holding her breathe, the way that her eyes were searching for an ounce of doubt or an inch of a lie in your own.

“Are you serious, (Y/N)?”

“You know I don’t play about you, Ri,”

If it wasn’t for remembering that her mother was in the same room, you would have kissed her. But it was the thought of her mother that caused you to break eye contact with Riri. Even more, the realization that you just spilled your entire life plan to the mother of your lover set in, and suddenly, your body was aflame in what you couldn't tell was either embarrassment or pride. Embarrassment because it’s her mother. Pride because of the amount of love for Riri that you had to be able to say all those things in front of her mother.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said the older woman, taking a swig from her glass, “You’ve found a keeper, baby.”

At this, Riri wraps her arms around your neck, burying her face into the crook of it, in an attempt to hide the humongous smile that’s plastered on her face. You chuckle a bit at her, a smile of your own making its way to your lips.

“Your daddy would be proud, Ri,” her mother added on, “and he would have loved the shit out of you. I’m sure he’s up there smiling down on us right now.”

Riri peeks from her place in your neck, making eye contact with you once more. The smile on her face makes you melt. You’d do anything to keep that smile there for eternity.

“He would, wouldn’t he,” she whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. You place a kiss on her forehead, and she retreats back into the warmth of your neck.

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