#i have the art of them slowly becoming less and less robot like

[astra-andromeda]

[astralnymphh]

The Sweeter the Wheat

# pair: post-seattle!jackson!ellie x reader

## summary: There is no better birthday gift than loving her.

### reader discretion is advised: romance angst, fluff, bit suggestive towards the end, alcohol consumption, jesse is alive (he thought ahead this time), loser!ellie, sometimes!awkward!ellie, sometimes!cheekyandflirty!ellie, reader is sickenly envious and a bit nosy, but aware, ravenous and tipsy makeouts, sappy shit. #### a/n; listened to "to all of you" by syd matters + "cardigan" by taylor swift while writing parts of it.. got a love/hate relationship with this fic but it slaps i guess

WC: 7.7k+ | DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST | ART BY @trackinglessons | DISCORD SERVER

SPRING SUN

 

 “At least we got back before her birthday. Psh—‘magine that sweet tooth havin’ to commemorate her twentieth with nuts and jerky.”

Jackson tholes the bright spring against countless heavy hearts, numb from the death groans of winter. Under the melted snow, came old meadows, but nobody returned to comb through them. Only to pluck them bare of flora for a sole reason—a sole person—and not in the name of beauty. 

Some meadows were stabbed through. Pierced into, made into a final home for the dearly departed he.

Time slipped slowly.

“Huh?”

Jesse sits at the tail of the bar, mumbling somethings that fly right past your ears. The diner is packed and the jukebox softly plays, but that of joy and conversation rules, so all nearby speech that is spat has become hodgepodge, herding your brain to run where the world is quiet. Given that, and the subtle significance in the day around you, you feel less than yourself. Immaterial.

There's a rightful wager that you didn't hear Jesse at all. Something about birthdays, maybe.

You pull yourself from the stars with a head-shake, having to retire the tiny notepad in your clutch. “Sorry, I completely tripped out just then. Why are we talking about birthdays—whose birthday are we.. talking about?”

Jesse appeared to be in doubt that your star-scaping moments were over; his features contorting more and more into disbelief as you gave him that barely curious squint. Poor him for having to be offended for somebody else.

A special somebody else at that!

His drawl comes in handy, “Come on, man. Four years strong and now you wanna forget that girl's birthday?” a voice so versed in pettiness, you could smack it right from his clever, grinning lips.

At whim, you almost do. But then his words fall into perfect place; that subtle signifigance makes all the more sense.

Spring: dappled in sunlight and vigorous in the trees, seems lovelier than it would in March or May. Seas of crimson and clovers thrive in the middle of April, and so does the red in her hair—soft, auburn tines—and the meadows in her earnest and shiny eyes. Recently dim, bruised and disheartened. But there, and unplucked at least, above the freckles you least regret missing when vengeance and a clue drove her out of this large, timber sanctuary. Home.

Every year on this day, the sun is relentlessly beautiful. No wonder, you think, now that you remember.

It's Ellie's birthday.

“Shit,” you curse, chewing at your guilty lip. “Is Ellie hiding out today as well? Haven't noticed her walking the thoroughfare at all.” Through the idle-talk, your hands find stray porcelain to retrieve and pile in the sink, scoffing at the liters of coffee that inevitably go cold in forgotten mugs.

“Do you notice anything working behind that counter?”

“Duh, dipshit,” you spout, back-talking him shamelessly, “I noticed you ambling towards the window earlier and knew my ears were in for a grating punishment.” Minding your eyes on nothing but the various plates you grab, the clutter clears fast. Like a damn robot.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, not my fault patrol’s been on cruise control this week.” With a part of the counter graciously tidied by your speedy work, he reclines in the barstool and claims that space with his lower legs, off to the side. Blissfully permission-less. “Can't say the same for here, though.” 

You draw in a prefacing breath, tilting a cup at him. “You could if you hel—”

“No chance.”

“Fuck you, Jess,” you reply wielding a nickname given for occasions of defeat, little knives glaring from your eyes. “Thought this friendship had a no-questions-asked sort of thing. You've disgraced me.” Cueing that age-old love for drama, you gild the lily; mock a drama-queen. Hand to your heart and a pout to your mouth.

Hating Jesse is out of the picture, and hate is an easy pill to swallow. Sure, you two bark blank insults from time to time, but it's all in good humor. You just get each other too well. A hitch fated to click. A shoulder to violently sob into.

Jesse tuts at you, rolling a smug pair of eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Diners just aren't my thing, as infected aren't yours.” He reaches and grasps his mug of coffee that'd been basking there ever since you whipped up his usual, content in keeping his gob flat for the ‘noon.

And you're content in the casual peace and company. Always are. It coerces you to fulfill orders quicker, you would say. Here you stand, in perfect function, machine of the cogs.

That's how all days streak by here. A warm sun arises, and the hustle and bustle of human nature crowds every faded red booth in here, as your kin would have you sustain, and you sustain it fine enough. Even with the latching, mostly silent presence of your best bud Jesse to keep boredom a stranger and insanity a myth. Peckish lips, thirsty throats; everybody. All famished faces of Jackson, satisfied in the wake of your work. All, save one. 

Ding!

At the entrance, you hear the jingle of the tiny, golden bell topping the door, and it doesn't intrigue you to investigate. Everyone is a frequenter, and you're basically omnipresent; sensing who it is and where they're routed to before they even sit. Call that perfect function.

Abruptly, the vintage magazine Jesse blankly browsed through is smacked back in place, and his throat clears. “First customer to break the hour-long streak. Let's see who—” he trails, and a dramatic pause thickens the air. Surprise loudly ensues. “Oh, ain't that funny. Look what fate dragged in.”

“Is it not a regular?” you ask, and at last perk your chin up. Intrigue clasps you now, as Jesse thought it atypical enough to point out. 

Turns out, it isn't a regular at all.

Fate was a scary portrayal, as fate—and unfinished threads—would have you snuck into a corner and stranded for her to find. Plaid and blue, stood Ellie, lost as a doe in tangled woods, yet tall with purpose in front of that swinging glass door. From here, you notice her right arm supported in a white sling and twisted into her chest, right off the bat, as you did the night of return. Changes were made, obviously, sprigs of marker detailing the canvas-color of it, no doubt produced by those pesky kids in-town. Her tattoo is sorely invisible behind the bandages too; you've always liked that thing. 

She's a bona-fide crush. A red-headed angel.

There and then, you recall why your heart reawoke into a prance that night she returned head to toe in dry, aged blood. You felt the revival of an inner-warmth, tracing fingers over the stitches in her back as she hunched in repressive quietude. Felt the moon evaporate off your skin, felt her wrist tensen in your palm as you dressed the wounds in hers. Felt the elusive moment staying became going, as it wasn't right.

You went straight home and threw right up, that very night. Her cold, marred skin was as deathly-like as the skin of a corpse. And you trailed your fingertips, all over it. 

Strange. In a week, her flesh has been suppled of life. Hale, blushing and glowing as in younger days.

In your heart: a tremor. It reaches up every time you swallow, and blooms its beat, pounding at the pit of your throat. You don't feel real, you feel light, you feel fright. You feel the past, waking from a slumber in you, emerging breathless beyond the surface. So many things.

You feel fourteen again.

“Guess her ears were burning,” mumbled Jesse, polite enough to not transform your shared scrutiny into a scene, only so he could leave it in your hands. His head carefully turns, speaking softly, “You spoke to her at all, recently?” 

“No,” a weighted breath departs you, and your shoulders repose. “Only the night she returned, while I tended to some of her travel wounds. Conversation wasn't easy to digest.” Shunning her very blatant presence, you pick your wash rag and begin again, foraging distraction.

“Bet not. Shit got hectic on the route Tommy picked,” he hums, and his eyes pursue once more to secretly follow her walking the opposite direction. Eyes you expectantly the second she slips into a booth. “Gonna take her order?”

You glower at his smug stare, knowing full well he intends to badger you into jumping the gun. Well, you're employed to do that, but, fuck fate! “Uh, duh? Di—”

“—Ipshit. Stop stalling.” He aims his hand, escorting you. “Birthday girl awaits.” 

“Yeah, hold that smile. See what happens later.”

“Mhm.”

EXTRA SYRUP

 Spectral hands suffocate your heart, and now your chest is tightened. Gut nervously sickened. There, she sits, seemingly absorbed by the air, and the sun that ripens with it. Thumbing at her nails, but not anxiously. Blowing at her lip, but not boredly. Hair dark ochre as the earth, yet fiery as the flaxen ray that pours into it. Tucked into a neat bun, as it was in December, January, and every paving year before. You like her hair that way.

She halved it up when Joel passed, and Seattle howled her name. 

A lot about Ellie changed, really, but that is the perennial nature of water. Ellie is Neptune; a late-teenage girl experiencing a crucial shift into a new, individual season. Ones so seldom—they're cataclysmic, but temporary. 

So much of her is eclipsed to the naked eye. Buried to make burrowing space for others. Just not you, it seems.

Every now and then, she glances as you intricately work your way over, a fist cupped to itself as if it alone safekeeps her deep and untold intentions; the warrant for sitting there. And you too, glance when her eyes smoothly retreat, dedicating pockets of this single, cherished minute to drink in little glimpses of her face. Trying to read her, read the shapes on her face if they indicate trouble, or truce. Last time you talked, you declared your resentment for being left worried and sleepless in Jackson.

Was it out of love?

Through the fair-haired light, that scar-heavy look on her features has noticeably abated, recapturing the tender warmth that gave her face the kind, puppy-browed ambiance you hesitated the world for. Gently laid brows, scarred the same as ever.

Those fucking freckles, too; a constellated map. Hidden miles and miles away for one sun and moon too many. 

Not a mile bridges you both apart now, not anymore.

“Hey, Ellie,” you chime in, frail in respect of the one-mind conversation her idle stare partakes. Just her, and the spring sun. Sweet wheat skin is taken from its aerial shine as her head heeds your voice, a loose twine of auburn falling from place.

Your somber greeting fine-tuned the focus in her eyes, softening into a shape less spacious, more devoted.

And though away from underneath the boughs of sunlight, her eyes found a disembodied source. Dried moss, gleams into a violent sea glass, pupils taking in how you hold that notepad firm in thumbs and pointers.

For the first time in an age, you too, have changed.

The corners of her lips crease into her cheek. “Hey,” her reply mirrors the breathiness of yours, and her left arm low-arcs up to rest on the booth seat, body facing you head-on. Totally relaxed. “How come you didn't mention the job switch? Was lookin’ for you,” she asks curiously, a tinge of that sweet-talk peeking through her wide grin. 

Now that you've stepped closer and garnered her attention, you can see and feel every notched nicety of her face on yours. You can only imagine how a swollen, sliced lip feels, and the continual migraines a fractured nose brings. Weeks of healing have swept by, but her afflictions in particular weren't petty.

“Guess it felt irrelevant to bring up when you got back. But you're here now, and you found me. So?” your tone edges on.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles. “Did you not miss me?” She feigns offense; brows quirking and her tone pitching slightly.

You did. 

A sigh starts in you, “Hard to not miss and worry for somebody when you picked up their slack in every patrol dating way back.” Barely nipping what you really felt with a snarky tease. “Oh shit, that rhymes,” you glance off and whisper to yourself, still loud enough to inspire mirth.

And it does; her forehead pinches and her voice rises in mirth, laughing casually and shifting in her seat to lean one elbow upon the table. “Ha— yeah,” she admits defeat. Ellie is undeniably cute when she does, always shrinks into herself and sinks into thoughtful conference, thinking of something—anything smart to knock you back into that corner. “Guess you're right. Hm, always were on my ass about that, huh?” 

You tut, “Mhm. Missed my scolding in Seattle?” crossing a leg and bearing weight upon it.

“Nah,” she confesses briefly, and you barely believe it. Wringing in doubt at that sly smile she tries to conceal from you. “I learned my lesson this time.” Ellie glances up, a prayer written on her face asking you to hold your scolds. “Trust me.”

“Hurt enough this time?”

“Fuck you!” She punts you playfully in the ankle and begins a laugh again. “You’re not allowed to point that out!”

That was the way of things; Ellie would charge into a fight wearing her life on her chest, slackening the rules, and you had to reel her in. Tug the leash. It had you suspecting her to have a foolproof reason as her backbone, like she was daring the devil with eyes fearlessly open. Steadfast intent. She would lure runners to her, grapple them from you, or push you away beyond safety. Leave you to watch an animalistic vigor fill every bind in her body until you're convinced she’s either coming out bitten or scathingly torn.

You wish she saw how worrying she truly looked; a sweet face splattered hair to chin in the blood of infected, catching her breath and shaking the arm of the croaking infected she just slaughtered off her ankle. Being way too blithe-hearted for the sacred sake of everyone involved.

“Don't worry about me.”

One day, when she asked you with her solemn eyes to be afraid, you thought she finally trusted you to handle yourself past her overprotective nature. Then, one clicker got too close for comfort, and she retracted the pact of fighting equally. Losing more than what her blade owes the earth would prove her fears to be a product of her unsacrifice.

Ellie figured it was half the reason you quit patrol duty, but not that it was fully the reason you anguished over her leaving for Seattle later on; her appetite for violence.

She accepts it so easily. But even when you had sworn she had place in something as simple as retiring from patrol and nothing else, she smelt the sugary scent of a white lie. Joel did it before. She never accepted it under a gentle radar. Instead, it had her wondering if she had upset you, if you would forgive the crimson melodrama and still take her up on breakfasts at ten when she returned. Regardless if you painted the full picture in the end, apologies spilled alike to winded waters out of this girl; sorry that she still could not stomach you tagging along for vengeance. Never-ending sorries, and you lapped each one up. Brought gaping arms around her and absorbed all the ugly and hopeless sounds. You wanted to prove her fears wrong, but perhaps it was time fear let you be the lamb. Live and let live.

Then, Dina would step in, and Ellie would be wrapped around her finger in sudden laughter. Happy and unhurt. Couldn't even remember what occurred before her sun entered the room, and dried those tears.

Crimson melodrama is all you preserved when abandoned, and is all you could look at her with when in longing.

The winter dance had your guts up to your throat.

Seattle, inexplainable.

You don’t hate Dina; your envy lies with the disconnection of it all.

“What do you recommend?” she questions, and her eyes anticipate you to be the ultimate apocalyptic-dining expert. Locked and attentive. She then begins to shake her head in gesture, planting the menu down. "I don't— I don't usually go to these kinds of places, so.. What do you think?" she awkwardly giggles, tapping the menu's plastic sleeve.

Tension presses a smile onto your lips at her inelegance. "Nobody does, not even people who went to these places before the outbreak," you opine, swapping the notepad to one hand and sliding into the booth. "It's okay. I mean.. hmm, what do you prefer? Sweet or salty?"

Her eyelids flick down, fingers coming to lace together as her eyes traverse the options. "Uh, I guess I— wait, wait," she interrupts herself. A swift finger draws you to look down at the menu, "You guys make pancakes here?" green eyes gaping at you with pupils more voracious than her stomach—or her sweet tooth.

"Yeah."

"I'll have that then."

It was a steadfast verdict. The sweet honey pancakes, she shall have, at the cost of a couple minutes and a couple ingredients. But it isn't traditional for birthdays, so you weigh in. “Just pancakes? I mean.. Faye is back there if you want something a little more celebrator—”

“—I'm not really a blow-the-candles-out and make-a-wish type of person,” she corrects you, brows cinched in as she rambles. Then, her free hand scoots the menu forward. “But you already knew that, you just insist otherwise,” she chuckles, unable to meet eye and eye.

True. Your soft insistence dawns from wanting nothing less than heaven inside everything for her, and maybe a dash of that sweet-sweet crush on her. But, Ellie is so staunch in being the humble girl that doesn't glorify every recorded happening with string lights and a wish hurled into the uncaring universe bent upon nurturing demised, late lights young girls reach for. She kept everything low-key: a small garage get-together on her last birthday, the one before that, and the one predating those two. Alcohol in your palms and movies playing back to back. Budding distorted laughs and tumbles into each other. Birthday things.

The remnants of her fifteen-year-old mind hangs aimlessly inside that museum. Dangled and stretched into archaic bones. On the day of return, she arrived happier than a sunflower drunk on the sun. Broad smiles and whatever else.

Wasn't for long.

“Forget you're so down-to-earth and reserved about all the fun things,” you snarkily deliver, retiring that still empty notepad behind your back. Memory shall serve. “Will that be it then?”

“Are you saying I'm not fun?” 

“I'm saying you need more of it.” You emphasize with a tiny bounce-up on your calves, tilting your head north. Though, nothing she uttered was wrong and so your voice silkily drones on, “And that.” You act the lack of a ruder way to insinuate. “But yeah, okay. One order of pancakes coming up.”

“Cool, I'll uh—have a 'celebratory' drink in the meantime?” She nudges the menu towards you once again, irises pulled thin on themselves. Thoroughly staring; your reflection in a bead of black.

You have to laugh, kindly laugh. “No alcohol here, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Her doe-stare only crescendoed from there, shying away at the result of her asking. Something reluctant is lodged in her pale throat, stumbling out only when it feels imminent as you turn away. “D-Do you wanna chat, afterwards? There's so much bullshit surrounding Seattle I have to catch you up on and I-I didn't before, so.."

Swinging your head back, you gauge that mercurial girl there. Tripping up her request like it couldn't escape hibernation from her head any quicker than insult does.

Faye shouldn't mind. “'Course, I was left to wonder about everything since that night anyway.” Your boss might even encourage it; knowing that your long-standing crush for her—heartbreaking to fathom, beautiful to feel—never swept you from rambling Ellie into some fairytale, so she would use it to psych you into asking her out. Jesse, too. Damn the nosy ones!

But it's the one thing that keeps you worried now.

“Cool, cool. Oh, hey, add extra syrup will you?”

What does Ellie think of you?

“Mhm,” syrup is nowhere as sweet as your hum. “Got it.”

Does she think of you at all?

MOUTHS ALL-CONSUMING AND DEPRIVING

  Minutes in, minutes out, wallowing at that ruby-red booth fed the realization to Ellie that the nerves feeding off her anxious chest could not combat conversation alone. She needed an aid. Liquid courage. Velvety smooth and robust.

Fortunately for betting gods and heaven-watching anyones, leftover whiskey from the last bonfire made stock in her cloistered, chaotic cabinets. So it founded no surprise that it whirled to mind after the celebratory-drink fact; leading you here, in her bedroom, on her bed. She pours whiskey into stubby glasses, One for her, one for you, and a lucky extra two for further along this unexplored line. Nothing overflowing limits.

But, oh boy, did it make you all lovey-dovey.

Her lips move and they dance over words, but all you hear is your own enamoration of how heart-shaped they are. You see, but fail to hear and comprehend. Floating aimlessly into those freckles, again. Something a fourteen-aged, sanguine mind would do.

Ellie was relaying Seattle to you, she prefaced. Prefacing didn’t aid you in paying attention, though. Today is not your sharpest, it dates to be your most absentminded. Not your usual, at all.

Nods are swayed to every shock-value word that you manage to understand, but the star-crossed rest, you miss, and replace with whatever story her pupils trace. They flit to read your face after each end of her sentences, so it has you thinking too much of her time has slipped without the company of a listener, and now that her time slips into you, she can use it to stretch your expression with whatever witty remark she makes. 

She did one day blurt that your laugh compliments your smile—or however that fucking flirt threw it over the crackle of that bonfire.

In fact, when you begin to let parts of her body neck-down from her face distract you, only then do you decipher how much she has grown in a month.

She pitches her drink to sip, and your eyes are hot on that glassy trail, artistically concerned with the way she swills down whiskey: fluently gulped, throat bobbing, the scar on her lip licked clean. Her brows too, have thickened, much so as her leathered skin, her callouses. She traces her thigh in circles repeatedly—a fidgety habit—and her lips purse and tug and wrinkles hug and press said lips when they are prettily wide. 

Every high noon or low point of her body was different, and you have missed a great many things you care too much about to not appreciate every brink and midst. You don't want her to be lost to otherworld winds without studying her presence harshly. She is in your scrutiny, now more than ever.

“So, do I get to see my pancakes yet, or?”

“Oh, oops.” You snap out of your woolgathering, wagging your head left to right. Then briskly as you assented her invitation, you slide your knees under you, reorganizing your seating. “Can't blame me for being so invested in your epic tales. Could totally be a comic narrator for the school in town.”

Ellie had already been sat skyward. Sprawled at one leg and tucked at the other, arm in her lap, where her whiskey is nestled. “Oh, sure,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Those kids are a bunch of little shits. They would probably interrupt me with fart jokes or make actual fart sounds than sit still and pay attention for thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” you hum, short and atonal, peeling the corner of the plastic lid back. “And who do you think taught them those terrible jokes, huh?”

Soft lids narrow together to sharpen her gaze; glaring at your clever comment, lips propped slightly open. “Terrible?” An offended, toothy smile pulls on her lips. All sentences she could possibly muster up come crashing into each other; an agglomeration, “I—They aren't bad jokes—and they're puns, really, so they're actually pretty fuckin' smart,” she boasts with brows raised. “And It isn't my fault that every annoying kid picked them up and started repeating them.”

It most certainly is her fault. Hell, even you catch yourself reciting them at the crest of nightfall, giggling into your palm. Although, why she's trying so rigorously to plead her pun-enjoying case to you, might just be funnier. “Are you seriously trying to explain puns to me?”

“God,” she surrenders in a chuckle, and bows her head to introduce another quick sip to her parched lips. Ellie then eyes you for a blank second thereafter, tugging the plump of her lower lip through her teeth. Like contemplation has her hindered.

Around you, the lungs of the garage’s foundation inhale, and exhale; creaking and settling.

She dashes a huff. “You basically asked,” Ellie reminds you, her tone and eye-roll implying obviousness. “Can I eat my pancakes now? M'hungry.” Her face sutures into a pseudo-frown and encloses herself to a crisscross, impatiently behaving.

Now, as for the pancakes. Fluffy, biscuit brown, star-shaped, bountifully rivered in unrestricted syrup, topped off by a definitely-melted, humbled ingot of butter. Needless to say, you're pleased by what boredom and intact cooking-books taught you, and she hasn't even seen them yet.

The ask for a carryout-container was already in order the moment you set pace for her table, because you wound up in a near-catastrophe as she sought you out around the kitchens like a lost pup and maundered right into you. Thank patrol for instincts; it's the one thing you held an undying clutch to. And the sweet pancakes you proudly plated, making refuge on the counters as you cross-examined Ellie in case you injured her arm more.

Lucky girl was all fine and peachy, of course.

She only knocked you two right into that near-injury mess to invite you here. Persuasion sat readily in her throat incase you questioned her motives—most of her ideas turning out to be a little friend-group antic, never anything serious or singular—but you agreed to it in double-time. 

“Think you might just be one of those kids at this point.” You gingerly tweak the rim of the plate you kept the pancakes on and lift it outside the container, planting it between all four knees.

“Eh, you're not so innocent yourself,” Ellie contends before she even casts her first peek at the hillock of starry sweetness, totally taken aback when she does. “Holy shit,” she awes, just as if she were a young teen again, “Are you kidding me?”

Labor-intended nights never slip soft through the gaps of your fastened fingers, not even days where your work period is abridged, but hey, strange, space-brain girls are far beyond ordinary exception. Hell, Ellie is vital! Commemorating the red angel you worship in the patterned and soapy act of cooping up on her bed, toasting to the moonlight and letting her talk your ear off for old times' sake is your approach to telling her you love her.

“Know I'm not a pancake-connoisseur, but I gave it a unique whirl. Just for you.” You held a fork out, gracing her with first honors. “Don't blame me if it gives you a stomachache,” your forewarn is a doubtful one; in your mind, morningtime will arise with an extra punch to her gut.

Ellie, however, stares right into the baying eyes of a challenge, snatching the fork from you. "Hey, if it's good enough for my tongue, then it's good enough for ma' gut!" and promptly after exclaim, gashes and tears her fork into the sweet, airy texture of the pancake, popping it past her sweet, berried lips. “Mhh—and I will blame you. So you end up feeling sorry n'take care of me.”

God, whatever souls you would sell to spend paradisal afterlife with this fool. Talking with a gob flush of the birthday project you're humiliated to be proud of. You scoff, “Asshole,” lightheartedly scornful as can be, and it snaps something to mind. Head tilting eye-to-eye, “Dina wouldn't be the one to?” you ask, right after she swallows.

That particular question seemingly struck a chord as her brows cinched together, eyes dropping with allusion. “No,” she says meekly, soft in the sound, but you can tell it came up heavy. Shadowed by a sigh, and an untimely chuckle. “Do you want to know?” She throws on a shrug that ripples through her head, sending it to hang lopsidedly. As the stout willow grows.

“Guess so,” you agree temperately, not wanting to seem too eager—even though with this topic, you just might be. Camouflage those old, foul feelings of envy. “Did Seattle have you kicking more ass than just Wolves and infected? Couldn't have been a very romantic tr—”

“Dina's pregnant.”

Silence carves it's way after that. Thick, tense and unyielding. You had words lined up but like a shot in stark night they've just—vanished, sunk back into the chamber. Nothing prepared you to hear that, “Pregnant?” lowering a hand to your belly where you swear your heart has pummeled to.

Ellie glances up, once at your widened face and once at your hand. A bite of humor works it's way above her chin; smugly smirking. “God, don't tell me you're pregnant now too.”

“What? No!”

Damn idiot. Should punch her right in the—nevermind.

Ellie is way too quick to make serious things unserious. “You're a damn menace,” you unapprovingly giggle.

“Am I?” Amusement raises her brows, tearing into the pancake with her fork for another bite. “Cause you seem to like menace.”

You adjust onto propped elbows, “Do I?” playing all nonchalant. “I mean, what do you mean by that?” your voice dims, expending for the small space that separates you and her.

“Mhh,” she contemplates with a purring sound, and shrugs. “Dunno.” Ellie retreats those eyes downward where you won't compel her to smile. You can tell she battles the letch to look up again, which—as proven in her case—doesn't fucking work. She shoots up carefully, and it's a conflicted gaze this time. “Not with Dina anymore, though. That’s the other thing.”

And we're back.

Having reconciled the chance, you retrace. Look at her with somber concern. “Did something between the two of you happen?” It's a gentle question, reinforced by the bulletproof stare you offer her to unwind in.

The air in her voice softens, “Sort of,” and the meridians of your body then become easier to look at as she continues, wrinkles in her brows. “Said some things I shouldn't have, and we.. figured it best to leave it at that. For now.” her explanation sounds desolate and attemptless, like she has sat in shadow and vigil accepting this fact and has given up on hope. Crestfallen and quieter; this isn't like her. Bent at her wrist, dangling that glass above her crisscrossed lap like a sad child pokes at the food on their plate.

“For now?” You hate that you pry, but that sick greed in your gut from times before haunts with a hunger for knowledge. Your envy that is enlightenment. Still, you hesitate to seem nosy, wanting nothing than to possibly just console your friend in need. “What's holding you back from.. calling it quits? The pregnancy?” You crane your body upright slowly.

“Just still feelin' bad.” Her fingers begin a tap-dance at the glass' rim. “I'm an asshole.”

You duck at the neck, searching for her downcast eyes. “Come on, El. I've only ever seen you rant and rave at middle-aged grumpy men and infected, no way it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there,” she insists otherwise with an earnest voice, inciting a refreshed sigh as she swigs her whiskey.

“Well, what did you say?” You are relentless. No, normally you would not condone it, but tonight, tongues are loose and boundaries are blurry. You miss your happy girl. “I could talk to Dina, if it helps.”

“Wouldn’t change shit.”

“If you love her, you would try.” Even if it sickens you.

Ellie slots her drink in her lap, and grouches. “Dude.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and stifles a groan, frustrated. It draws out in words without proper footing, “It's weird. We just don't know what to say to each other—I don't know what to say to her, it.. it's just how it is—it was a mutual agreement. None of your business, really.” 

Her own tongue is a very obvious byproduct of nerves, whiskey, stress, by and large a lot of things. Being goaded, definitely.

How it is, is how it will be.

“She broke up with me.”

You didn't mean to goad her, but curiosity—and a kiss of alcohol and envy—ate your refrain. The lack of any eye contact or movements to stray from you thereafter her word is telling enough. That it aches her head, and a cold, guilty sweat crosses over your skin. It was a stupid thing to blurt. You feel fucking stupid for even saying that.

Fuck. 

Her dry sniffle is noisy on your shortcoming, and has you scrambling to think. “Sorry, just been worried for weeks.” But you shrink into a ball of abraded arms and legs, conserving yourself into a shy, spotted egg of curiosity that clads no hatching cracks to be convicted of. “Thought you two finally getting together would be the dream to end all dreams.” What the fuck do you know anyway?

Her eyes watch through you, into you like water; she notices, and the pancakes are slid to the side. Shuffles of fabric clamber closer as she eats the inches between you two, her breath brushing your forehead. “Hey, hey. I didn't mean anything by it. It's fuckin' great that I got somebody I can drink with and mope to. Really. Just been shitty all around—Tommy? Fuck, he's been the worst lately.” 

Everything ascends in temperature once her hand plants on the side of your neck, every nerve petrifies; unheard-of touch. She can feel the gasped tension in your throat, thumbing the muscles down. 

“Don't worry about it,” she says, and her saying that amuses you.

A moth-eaten phrase in particular is what was said. You scoff at it, plopping your legs back out. “Dude.” You bite a smile into your lips. Sucks that such a hackneyed thread of words does so; you're really chewing back the urge to call her any byname of dumbass, per usual. But damn that sincere face on her face that sweetens the teasing deal for you. You settle for low-hanging fruit. “You always say that, Ellie.”

“Ugh,” she seconded a scoff back at you, grimacing coyly. “Don't you start.” Ellie drags her hand off, not intending for it to land smack-dab on your thigh. It takes her a second to register the sound, the texture, slinking her hand behind her when you say nothing.

“Start what?” you stutter a laugh, bringing your thighs together.

“Nothin,”

“Don’t bullshit me, WIlliams.” To educe her, you dig your foot into her side, poking her. “Does it have anything to do with only me being here and not anybody else?” You lean into her.

Ellie does too, an exact mirror of you. “No..” The only thing that contrasted you, was her hand again, seeking what was left behind on your thigh. “Just wanted to see you first,” her lips barely move besides a slick smirk. Voice tiptoeing through the air, the noise-level two clandestine lovers live at, in secret song.

“You fuckin liar. No hang-outs for weeks before you left and suddenly you want to see me?” You call bull when she relucts to raise her hung head, witnessing the corners of her lip curl. Her head twists away more, and you spearhead the first, little move: tuck that irkful strand of auburn with a single finger. “C'mon.. what is it?”

“Stupid,” she blatantly spits, and at last confronts your face with her puckish one—glimpsing down, and up, and down. Watching her grip flex into your leg intermittently, chewing her lip. “Mhh, maybe 'm starting it.”

Ellie is heart-poundingly close; her breath is now yours to breathe. You whisper, “Maybe you are,” perking yourself right up to her cheek, unnoticing of the ardor her eyes spin over your face. Unsure where to stare. You pretend the pressure on your thigh flies under the radar, too, and that your heart isn't in the middle of a love-logged swell, and your cheeks aren't tender from smirking at the feeling of it perched there. Love-struck death befalls, if else confessed, so you tease, tease, and tease to stomach your excitement. “Maybe, you're stalling on those pancakes because they actually gave you a stomachache. You feeling good?”

Her bitten lips part, and the next sensations you feel—are transcendental.

Wisping whispers so hot, and intoxicating on your skin, you fail to catch her hand coming up from your thigh to clasp your face, or that hers has shifted in front of yours. She breathes out, “Won't you shut up already?” through lips pulled into a smirk, and rushes to press it fondly against your mouth.

You wince—somewhere between an electrified gasp and a reaction of delight—into the kiss she stole, and it only beckons her to starve more for you. The heat of her whiskey breath pours into your mouth, and you drape your eyes closed. Scoring these seconds by, she spends them concentratedly rolling the skin together, others pushing and shying from the kiss, until she stills and bleeds out the pressure in a slow, wet smack. Hazily eyeing you for a response.

Once you feel her no more, your eyes blurrily creak open, and the corners of her lips at soft upturn greet you. Single creases at either side, the few freckles above them outspread.

Judgement renounces you, leaving you with pathetic pickings for reply. You aren't sure what she wants—or needs you to say. “Ellie?” daintily, a mumble flows onto her lips, and is far from a frail sound of concern. Intrigue encapsulates you.

What does this mean?

You think you know, but self-reason has always proven itself to be naive and too eager to trust.

By cruel emotion, she misunderstands you. “Sorry,” she pants out breathlessly, blowing the shape of it into your cleft lips and hovering right upon. Her fingers gouge the fabric clothing your chest, mangling it into her fist—an attempting grasp. This proximity is all she could ever dream of. “Is this okay?” Yet, dreams always sever at the apotheosis. So when she comes in for the second kiss, she wants no more for dreaming; the reality she yawns with hunger into, is insurmountable.

A dewdrop of something cold dribbles between you. Tears.

In turn, you misunderstand her. Using your own stubbornness to create an enigma. To think, that out of the blue, all of this would transpire? After endless wishes unanswered? You doubt it.

You love her, but you refuse the reality of it happening upon you.

Separating from the plush, licked skin of her lips fleetingly, you speak. “Is this you being drunk?” Only to be drawn back in without her processing your words right away, and then drawn back out. Intricate intimacy.

“Please,” Ellie begs, “Answer me, before I feel like an asshole again,” and chuckles sobbingly before her teeth feel rapaciously empty, and cannot tolerate it any longer. Instinct, and teeth nip your bottom, vulnerable lip.

Neither of you could be totally drunk, having only drank a modest portion.

So this is raw.

Thinly pulled, she slowly stretches it across the air between, and watches it spring back beneath eyelids sunken low. The action entails nothing else for her to feed satisfaction from, already panting right in your mouth in search of more as soon as your tongue descries the answer. “More than okay,” you heave in a passioned breath along that all-consuming, deprived mouth. Your hand squeezes her fist confirmingly.

It quenches her lust to know, a hot-blooded, moaned and voiceless curse snapping into your mouth. “I fuckin' love you.” Her rage softens in meeker kisses, peppering them up to the corners of your lips until she pauses, and pulls herself away. Her eyes turn troubled and adrenaline-rushed. Stains of tears shimmer beneath, along new ones that begin to plunge, and for the first time ever, you know they're yours. But then the flesh between frowns, the mood shifting, and she croaks, “Am I.. an asshole?”

It breaks you to hear that.

You glare, and stammer, “W-What? You aren't.” Hooking dearly onto her wrist when her hand glides up to rest against your cheek. “Why?”

“Cause I sprung this on you, 'nd I don't wanna force you to..” Ellie cranks to a halt, mouth screwing shut like her thoughts were too much to bear hearing aloud. “Fuck,” she quietly spews, cowering her face near your neck.

“Said it was okay,” you coo, clarifyingly coo, raking your fingertips up and through the tied loops of her hair. “The only asshole thing you'd ever done was not let me come with you.”

“I know.” Her eyes search for uncomplicated plains. The sheets, her lap, your neck. A kiss is planted as she tips her head, the gust thereafter a warm reminder of her sorries.

“Thought you were going to die.” You awoken in violent patterns, cold nights restless in bed, tossing and turning. Waking and falling into daydreams of how Jackson would feel missing a cardinal component. A girl to rave against dying lights. Thorns scale your throat at the thought. “You're reckless, y'know?” you mean it as a gentle insult, chuckling as it leaves your lips, and sealing it into her scarred palm. Kissing reckless consequences.

Her lips loiter on the pulse of your throat. They drag, and they drag.. sloppily limping over your jaw as she makes her way to observe you in her palm, mumbling low, and gravelly, “How many times am I gonna have to say it?” Ellie deems it redundant to tell you that she knows again, resorting to her own little gentle insult, “Such a fuckin' sap.”

“Says you.”

Her hand is comfortingly warm; you aren't fain to break away. But her fingers are curious, thumb nearly making it into your mouth before she second-guesses herself, easing it at the verge of your lips instead.

A longing moment of Ellie staring at the way her thumb looks—a decoration to your mouth—passes, and she responds, “Still alive, aren't I?” to that loose thread of a plea you forgot you even said. It calls you right over, bidding you to look into her eyes again as space finds itself thinning again, her scratchy, band-aided nose caressing yours. “Dumbass.”

She chuckles into your mouth as you chuckle into hers, cutting yourself off with a kiss that ebbs, and flows. Suckles, and smacks, snaking her tongue in for a change. That sweet, sweet wheat. Saccharinity you can't explore anywhere else other than the outline of her mouth. And you—of grunted volitions in her chest—take exploration further, replacing the grasp of her shoulder with the coursing of fabric, sliding under the hem of her shirt and palming the skin there.

You feel her skin breathe, her belly breathe into your hand, and a content wrinkle pinch between her brows. Her skin, is as soft as nothingness.

“You're a dumbass.”

Air clings to your cheek as her hand reaches around you, pressing fingerprints into the base of your head as to prop you for her delightments. Ellie is no amateur, enjoying you as if she knew you were hers without explicit pledge.

“Sure, babe,” she scoffingly counters, and pulls her tongue out of you, lips messiy shining. She scouts you out; lays eyes on your expression with undertones of satisfaction and presses an appetent bite right back into your damp skin, grunting into the filthy kiss.

Your mind is one-pathed right now; in the most maddened form, you crave the story further down her throat. In that warm space, is air thinned and balmy with the scent of alcohol and syrup. In those whimpers, is the sincere confession she held tight in throatly gloaming, all those intimate times before. In all of your yearnings, your lips never parted for more.  

Two holes that want to consume each other.

Weeping, wailing, tormenting in an empty forever.

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you cathartically sob into the humid cavern of her, a hint of wanton—and other repressed things, taking form. That hand under her shirt wanders from her navel and tweaks the button of her jeans, pressing your body against all of her like it hurt to be inside your own, singular body. Overcame by a need you could not chew out.

Ellie cuts the kiss, quick to soothe the movement with her hand pressing down and collecting yours. “Hey, hey, too fast,” she laughs, distancing herself and giving you those eyes that could see you were overstrung, hectic to go somewhere you aren't prepared for.

She loves you, but that means appreciating you enough to wait until time is perfect.

Her head cocks, “Let's take shit slow, huh?” fingers weaving into the pliant gaps of yours and pulling your fist dear to her chin, kissing it.

You speak over the repeated sounds of her smooches, “Yeah, sorry,” cringing slightly at how fucking cheesy the scene became. But, when is Ellie not? Wonder clasps you now; intent to know what this makes out of the two of you, having held your feelings for forever. “Well, what does all this mean, then?”

“It means..” Ellie slants her body even more, stealing your wrist along with her. Planning something, no doubt. “You and me, breakfast tomorrow at ten, Tipsy Bison?” Her mouth stuck to the side of your hand like syrup, so firm in not letting you go.

It makes your ears simmer hearing her shamelessly set up a date, of all things she could have said. God. You errantly laugh, totally not giddy when her mouth starts sprinkling up your arm at an alarming pace. “Sounds more than good—hey! You slow down!” 

Happy birthday, asshole.

perm taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @maleelee @seraphicsentences

[lmk if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist!]

[theplottdump]

Any tips for making a legacy, for lack of a better term, weirder? I've worked pretty much every occult possible into the family tree but I feel like I get too focused on just maintaining needs and normal daily family life for them, especially since I prefer to keep everyone more or less happy (i.e. no tragic early deaths). The most exciting things I've really done are turn one sim into a Global Superstar and marry off another one to the Grim Reaper, and sometimes I pause aging for a bit to spend more time on certain plots. Your legacy is obviously pretty wild so I wondered how you go about coming up with ideas like Michael Bublé Christmas Getaways and Charlie's Angels Spy Squads haha

This is a great question!! Let me see if I can dig up a good enough answer for it 😂

And I'll include pictures to break up the massive wall of text.

The reason Gens 1-3 are barely mentioned on here is because in reality there wasn't really anything interesting that happened in them. I wanted to hide away from the stress of a worldwide pandemic and watch my sims garden for a while. No real rules, just something to relax.

Gen 4 was a slight departure since I was getting a little tired of my sims doing the same thing over and over, and I decided to do the opposite and move them to a penthouse in the city as a refreshing change.

And as I started playing with more gameplay mods that added extra moodlets- the chance of hysterical death rose exponentially. My Gen 4 heir died when my Gen 5 heir, Hinoki was just a kid. So I decided to keep him around as a ghost while my Gen 3 heir worked on grinding out the ingredients for Ambrosia and Reed (Gen 4) continued to follow his political aspirations to become the first Ghost President of Simerica.

And this is where we find the nexus point of weird. And here's the biggest (not so secret) secret to it. The beginning of Gen 5 is when I started actually sharing my gameplay.

Not publicly, but with a small group of friends and simmers on a discord, like I've mentioned before here. Suddenly I wasn't just playing for myself, I was very slowly starting to play to make my friends laugh- to see how they reacted whenever I would leave little updates. And I found I really enjoyed that!

I started contriving little scenarios- what if Hinoki slept with her husband's band mate and had a secret child. And then someone would pop in and say she might have to run away for a while to Tartosa to have a baby. This independent toddler trait gives baby Val such a stink face- oh you should put him in a tiny leopard print robe to match. And it became this back and forth of - you know what would be funny?

I was started going off the rule from my friend @anotherplumbob that my first born would be the heir, so i had the fun task of figuring out how to get from point A to point B with Valerian, and what the hell point B even looked like.

We knew he was evil- he killed his dad as a toddler, and was just a full creep through his entire childhood- and so I started asking, what story do I want to tell my friends? I love romcoms, I love spy movies- what would be fun for me?

We're all influenced by our environments, the art, media, and music we consume, and that's all directly reflected into what we decide to put back out into the world.

And through exploring those characters, through playing the game, through my friends throwing the weirdest suggestions at me - what if he made a robot copy of his childhood Nanny? Okay, what mods can I use to reflect that in my gameplay? - What if he 3D printed a baby? - What if the Volcano gave them another baby? (this one is never happening shooby) - The whole thing spiraled out of control 😂

SO TDLR- How can you make your legacy weirder?

Find a community or even a couple trusted friends to bounce ideas off of. The amount of time I've spent conniving and scheming with @doctorsimcraft should honestly be studied. Write for yourself and like the 4 people you care most about. Enthusiasm is infectious. Find some good gameplay mods to add color to your gameplay- More Personality Please is an absolute game changer. Wicked Whims and Lumpinou's RPO are also fantastic additions if that's your style. Hopefully the game throws you some fun curveballs. Adversity and conflict breed interesting story - or something like that. Think about the types of stories that you would be excited to tell- really lean into your favorite tropes and themes. It's not a checklist, it's just like - I really love campy spies, I really love enemies to lovers - what do I do in game to make this happen. Find your story and let drive your gameplay- not the other way around. Or find a good balance and see what happens.

And to be honest I've very much lost that balance and fallen into a total rut of letting the story overtake the gameplay. So whenever I get too overwhelmed by my stupid large ambitions I just sit down and play and see where the game takes me.

I hope I can get back to not posing every single scene out for Gen 7 but I also love making poses, and breaking my game in every way to be able to tell the stories I want to!

It's why I'm so comically slow now. But I guess that just means we get to spend more time getting to know our characters, which I do genuinely enjoy.

I don't know if that was helpful or incredibly unhelpful- but it's what I got. Good luck! And above all have fun- in whatever shape that may take. (Hopefully it's a weird one)

xo, Anne

[relax-and-read-on]

Math San, I Gotta Ask For More Of That Primarch planet Swap AU, The Amount Of Imaginations That Is Going Through My Head Is Insane, But Headcanons are enough of you do not want to update, As I Am also Genuinely Interested In The Headcanons as well.

Hello hello!!! I am *slowly* going back into updating my blog again, so!

Primarch planetswap au: HC edition!

Lorgar (From Terra): actually quite close to his father and Malcador. Has the habit of walking into Malcador rooms and face planting on the old man bed to complain, after a hard day of not strangling the high lords.

Angron: On Inwit, he had the disastrous habit of running toward all the giant carnivorous monster. Due to his empath power, he ended with a monstrosity called "Land-Orca" that he treat like a dog as a pet.

Fulgrim of Nuceria: Sign language was actually the primary one in the slave pits, to communicate away from the guards. The system that Fulgrim and his sons use together is different from any other, and quite secretive. He actually started teaching it to Ferrus.

Alpharius Omegon on Chtonia: They were actually homeless, until emp showed up! They never wanted their full identity as two knows to other, as it could have compromise their secret statut of vigilante, fighting back the local gangs.

Magnus of Medusa: Think rocks are tasty, okay? He never quite got over his habit of eating sand, but now it's mostly crystal. Has an actual chart ranking the tastiest ones, and fucking LOVE how tasty fossil are.

Leman of Delivrance: Has yet to fully understand that has wolf dna, and as such fight a lot of his instinct. Insist on touching everyone he consider family, and check on the regular where everyone is, and if they are ok. Always eat last too.

Konrad on Maccrage: when he was a child and having really bad convulsion, his mother gave him a pet ferret (wich used to be common pets for Romans) as some kind of alert animal. Konrad doesn't deal well with food often, so his beloved lil friend (called Regulus) became the fattest, happiest noodle.

Ferrus of Caliban: He actually has a romantic side! He grew up hearing songs of knights and princess, and then ended up becoming a knight himself! And while incredibly chivalrous, the realm of the arts (outside a forge) stay incredibly foreign to him. He does love nowaday harlequin romance novels.

Horus on Nostramo: In spite of having created a rather criminal society, he made extreme effort to make it a true meritocracy. Any street urchin can become a mob enforcer under him... If they navigate properly the treacherous world of the mafia.

Sanguinius of Fenris: He actually is a supremely picky eater, and does not trust 95% of vegetables. He only ate meat until he was found by the Imperium, he's not a goat, why do they keep waving kale at him?!

Lion on Colchis: Fully, 100% aware that the chaos gods are real, and actively pray to them. He has his "religion of the Emperor" that he actually use as a facade, since it annoy Emp so much, he doesn't look into his "true" belief.

Perturabo on Chemos: has actually developed full AI again, but hide it HARD from Emp and the Mechanicus. He like his robots!! He think that they should have rights! Why can't the Imperium be less stupid about this... Vaguely in love with Rogal and his Cool Armours.

Jaghatai on Baal: Became quite the warlord, locally. Was especially curious of the use of radiation, and definitely made some horrible WMD back in the day. Currently falling in line with the Mechanicus, as every vehicules present on Baal was almost holly in their culture.

Rogal of Nocturne: Created some really, REALLY advanced fortification that can, somehow, follow the landscape change. Is pioneering the use of dragon scales mixed with special metals, creating something that might be stronger than ceramite. Does not understand why Perturabo is always hanging around.

Roboute on Barbarus: decided to fight necromancy with fire... Artillery fire, to be exact. He brought the industrial revolution to Barbarus, and has pretty intense plan for terraforming the planet. Hasn't stopped working in.... Approximately 50 years.

Mortarion of Prospero: Like in many of my hc, Morty is intersex. He's lucky to have landed on Prospero, where androgyny is a sign of beauty. He actually like cultivating that appearance, and if asked what his gender is, he usually just reply "mushroom".

Corvus of Chogoris: if it's me, then you bet Corvus is a transwoman lol. She wear traditional mongolian ceremonial outfit as a power move, because *no one* expect her to be able to move this easily in all those heavy clothes.

Vulkan of Olympia: VERY close to all 3 of his siblings! He was never a fighter there, and instead worked hard to promote a democratie and division of power. He still is in contact with all of them, especially Calliphone. She keep teasing him about his possible crush on a certain Oracle...

[suntiger745]

Do not be afraid to look at me

Commission drawn by the amazing tyi art

"I am metal, rubber and plastic. Your curse cannot touch me." ______________________________________________

The Weaver's rule was harsh and her punishments harsher. For breaking the rule of 'No mercy for the fae' Sapphira was cursed with the greatest punishment known to her kind - loosing control over her gaze. The curse of the medusa. No longer able to choose when to petrify someone, she was blindfolded and sent into the east, into the lands ravaged by the Meravion wars. There were still people there; wretched, malnourished creatures. Ruthless and desperate, trying to eke out a living among the ruins of four once mighty nations. The guards escorting Sapphira there hoped they would end the medusa quickly. It would benefit them both; the scavengers would end a dangerous threat, the medusa would not have much time to wallow in despair.

Things are rarely so simple though. Age touched Sapphira's kind only lightly to begin with, and with the curse upon her she could not die, even if dismembered or blown up.

For 300 years she lived in the ruins. The humans, cyborgs and fae kin scrabbling to make a living among the bombed out buildings and dwellings partially melted by arcane fire soon learned to avoid her, lest they become statues to decorate the desolate streets and poisoned forests.

Astaria was a companion robot of a rich and influential family in the nation of Gokani. As the seemingly endless Meravion wars continued, even the rich and powerful were unable to escape its reach. The family upgraded Astaria with combat protocols, armor plating and an advanced nanite repair swam, but in the end it was for all for naught. Against a 300kg bomb a single robot could not do much, no matter how upgraded.

Astaria was severely damaged in the air strike that ended the life of the family she was protecting, and for five years the nanite swarm slowly rebuilt her. Her memory was intact, a blessing and a curse, as she still remembered the family she had helped raise and guide before she became a much more violent protector. She did not relish the thought of attaching herself to another family, and so she walked east, into the desolate lands ruined by the wars.

For almost a century she wandered the ruined lands, sometimes approaching people to share a few words or do some limited trading, sometimes avoiding other people and instead preferring the solitude of the ruins or the forests reclaiming some parts of the lands.

Then she walked closer to the coast, curious about the statue garden a trader had warned her about. Cursed he had called it. The only things living there was a giant snake, or so the legends told.

Astaria walked past several of the statues. incredibly life-like, just as the trader had said. That part had not been an exaggeration. The she met the snake, who was not a snake at all.

The first conversation was cautious, held at a distance. Sapphira explained why she would not look at Astaria, and the robot replied with understanding but also a desire to stay and talk. She had not met any of the greater myths before, aside from a dragon seen at a far distance.

Cautiously the two started talking more and after a month there was less caution and more fascination. Sapphira was always careful with her gaze, but she treasured Astaria's company. The loneliness had been the worst thing to endure over the last three centuries.

Sapphira was a skilled craftsman by now, having turned to making things as a way to pass the days in her exile. The house she had chosen as her main residence had quite a few quite exquisite works of metal in particular, and part of the reason her outfit was quite regal in some respects. Still, there were limits. She was not as strong as Astaria, who could lift three tons without redlining her systems, and so the robot helped build the house into a larger and stronger structure.

After ten months, Astaria realized that she had come to care for the medusa a great deal. The way her snakes moved in unison when Sapphira focused, but also displayed little personalities of their own when she was idle or distracted. The way the light shone across her scales, and how intelligent she was, and especially the way she laughed as she opened up more. She also had the most amazing eyes, blue yet with a glow of gold to them. sapphira had told her that the golden glow was the curse, and that Astaria should never look directly at her.

The next day, Astaria had an epiphany. The curse. It was quite explicit. 'All living flesh you gaze upon shall turn to stone.' How could she have missed it? She approached Sapphira, smiling. "You have very pretty eyes. I would very much like to see them, properly." she said. Sapphira looked, very carefully, to the right of the robot. "Don't say such things, Astaria. You know I can not." <cue image>

[monsterfloofs]

Well I guess I’m inevitably curious. 🍓 for the gilded robot, V1C3 themself. (If you’re comfortable)

Oh, of course! ^^ )

⚜️ I was actually up last night until about 2:30 working on their design JKXJCFBGX so I'll share the wip here too!

⚜️ I wanted to give them a design where they kind of fit into the impossible human beauty standard?? A waist that is so thin it would be impossible to have functional organs, and a stance that looks like a human foot would break under the conditions. (I may redesign their foot shape to be more like a ballet heel, because those look absolutely horrifying and also like a murder weapon to me personally sksksks)

⚜️ Some of the things on them are self modded of course! When they first came into being and started working they were a very plain black with no details.

⚜️ The gold detailing is inspired by art neuvo, it's so beautiful, I personally love it and I can imagine them enjoying some of the arts. Which is why those little flourishes are found in their design now. Also the masked face, because those extra details aren't seen in industrious work much anymore, everything is minimalistic and straight edged typically.

⚜️ I also think they have a few parts that they occationally swap out for asethetics as well, like having a few different stylings of foot models. They do enjoy style are artistic things and I can see them doing something like that =')

⚜️ V1C3 doesn't have pain sensors, not even touch sensory ones to process things like temperature. So hot and cold sensations are extremely limited, except for some relative knowledge about things they deem to be important. Like heat that can hurt technology or when they get overheated. But even those thermometers are just internal readings, not actually felt.

⚜️ That's kind of why when they turn back on those "sensory features" it's pretty meaningful, like them stepping out of their bubble, and being in-touch with the things around them. Because typically they don't see that as nessicary. It's like their little hooman person is adding features to them, having them feel curious enough to get those features to begin with. Slowly becoming less of this beautiful cold unfeeling thing, and more human like? Which if they connected the dots and realized this, they would be disgusted. X//Dc

⚜️ I found a song that fits their views about humanity sosososososo well 😭😭😭😭 It's absolutely perfect! Essentially I was put here to clean up your guys mess, and now you're complaining how I run things? Also realizing that V1C3 dealt with a lot of the dark underbelly of humanity makes a lot of sense why they would view humans so poorly. 😳 Also oh man oh man, how people can treat robots like replaceable tools. Who has room for emotions if you are treated like you don't have them anyway?

[wilanserulia]

I love making OCs, but as I keep refining the design of my newest one I feel the struggle of giving good representation to all of them.

Some of them I haven't drawn in forever, while some are new and need more art to express themselves. Some are old favorites of mine who I'll draw every now and then, and some used to be favorites of mine but I haven't had new material for them in forever. Some were fun to design but they were used in short adventures and I never explored them too much. Some I used to like but I look at today and feel they'd be in need of a re-design. And some were conceptualized for adventures that haven't yet took off the ground, and maybe never will. I'm ashamed to say there's even some others I sometimes forget about.

I've decided to compile a short list, more or less in chronological order. Most of them are from DnD games or other TTRPG settings ranging from Fantasy, Cyberpunk and even Steampunk, but I'm including my two FFXIV characters in here as well as honorary OCs because of how much I've written about them.

Sorcerer of draconic descent, whose family has been killed in the Crusade's effort to close a gigantic planar rift over the Abyss, leading him to swear vengeance against demonkind.

A veteran traveling paladin, who despite his old age still puts himself in harm's way for what's right.

A swashbuckling adventurer, whose tongue is as sharp as his sword. Second-born to a rich family of bankers, he left home to pursue a selfish desire of indipendence.

Born from an accomplished barbarian king and his spellcasting trophy wife, the young McLut is slowly being overcome by a creeping sense of inadequacy as over the years he keeps failing to live up to his family's legacy.

Warrior of Light and hero of the people, Wilan slowly buckles under the ever-increasing weight of the responsabilities that come with his many titles, despite having become an adventurer over a decade prior simply moved by a simple desire of seeing the world.

Refugee from a colony of the totalitarian empire of Garlemald, Delen is slowly trying to rebuild her life in the free realm of Eorzea, where she would forge meaningful connections and, once she's come out enough of her shell, embrace the adventurer's lifestyle.

A half-elf girl who, in spite of a harsh childhood of domestic abuses and a delinquent adolescence, has managed to grow up into a cheerful, optimistic young woman thanks to the positive influence of her found family.

First-born daughter of an old aristocratic family and latest bearer of a family curse, Jane dedicated her life to academic studies and became an accomplished archaeologist. The only thing preventing the curse from taking effect is an old pact with a devil, the same devil who whispers in her ear to temp her into accepting more power.

A once successful arcanotech engineer, Roy's life fell apart after a tragic accident led to the death of his very young daughter and, subsequently, losing his job and divorcing his wife. Suffering from depression, he's adopted an unhealthy, self-destructive lifestyle both as a way to feel something and to put himself through punishment.

Hailing from a remote archipelago in the middle of the ocean to the east, Chiyu is an elf who is training in a temple that curiously fuses martial arts with percussion music. Chiyu took a sabbatical decade away from her training because she wants to experience more of the world before she's 100 years old.

Known as "Don Raskar", he's a militaristic cleric stripped of his rank and relocated to a different region of the world for abusing his authority. Determined to rise the ranks again, Raskar is not shy to throw the weight of his social status around to get what he needs.

A nomad barbarian of the robot-infested wastelands. Being born too close to a planar rift made her into a tiefling, granting her an appearance resembling a balor and command over electricity. Despite being one of the many freaks of the region, she's nonetheless an accomplished mercenary and capable fighter.

Heir to a prominent family in the airship industry, Julian has witnessed his father's empire being ripped apart by competing families following his early death. He appropriated one of the airships, the Luminaria, and fled the city to live outside the law as a sky pirate.

Despite being a naturally creative and imaginative girl, Hoshiko has put aside anything she considers too childish to meet the many, many expectations placed on her and dedicated herself to the academic study of magic. That is, until a botched familiar summoning ritual conjured forth an otherwordly magical cat, who is bound to bring chaos into her life and maybe help her reconnect with her more genuine self in the process.

[bicycleboyblog]

I would like to talk about my new favorite Webcomic - Bicycle Boy. A Review.

Submitted by @shakura-kazuki

The story is about a Cyborg named Poet who wakes up in the post apocalyptic desert surrounded by corpses with no memories of who he is. He starts wandering through the desert, finds a bike and just aimlessly travels around to find out what happened to him. He is then violently captured by bandits and from here on out, it just gets worse.

At first, I was drawn in by the character design - Poet is cute, no doubt, and really cool looking. I mean, as cute as a man in his early 30s can be. I love human characters who are out of the ordinary. Stonehenge is big and scary, but she means well. Machk is a kind heart but strong and protective. Darla is crazy, but she has her reasons. I like Skip for no particular reason, or maybe I do. there is a character for everyone.

The characters are realistic, you can empathize with them and their actions make sense, they are diverse and every one of them has their own problems to deal with. You don’t know who is a villain and who is not until more things have happened. An enemy becomes a friend, an ally becomes an enemy.

The art is phenomenal - it starts out good and only becomes better, every page just as detailed as the previous one. Most of the pages are drawn traditionally, scanned in and colored digitally which is quite noticeable at the start of the story, but less so on the recent pages, It’s almost unbelievable that it’s traditionally inked. And the colors are great, setting the mood throughout the story and showing how gnarly red some wounds are. The setting is sci-fi and stays true to it, not delving too much into fantasy - the apocalypse was 10 years ago, many people died, many people lost someone or something and they suffer from cancer, leukemia and radiation poisoning. The characters get wounds and scratches which only heal slowly, they leave scars and aren’t just magically gone. Poet still has most of his torso to feed his organic brain and skin with oxygen, blood and nutrients. It is unlikely, but technically possible for him to exist in real life right now or in a realistic future.

The art style is semi realistic, but not too gritty, the characters still look like comic book characters while having body hair, skin folds, fat and muscles, scars and wounds. Nothings beautiful, nothings clean, but nothings ugly either. Poets mechanical parts mimic real human muscles groups, radius and ulna arm bones and he’s got bone-anchored hearing aids while also having stupidly oversized kneecaps and silly cartoon robot antennas which whip and wobble when he moves. Solles neck folds, Darlas tattoos, Machks scars, Stonehenges peg leg. They all tell stories. You want to know them. You can tell who each character is by their hands, each of them is unique.

Poet is very much the “special snowflake” kind of protagonist and even though that might not be for everyone, I personally quite enjoy it. He’s unique and mysterious and doesn’t want to talk about himself. He locks his feelings away to not bother others, but here and there he reveals his hurt and his frustrations during moments of peace.

What really gets me is that Poet is not “just a cyborg” - it becomes very clear that he doesn’t feel complete, he knows he has no limbs, he can not feel his hands or feet. He’s a stump and he’s aware of it. There is ugly scarring all around his robot parts which makes it look disconnected and less in unison. It makes you feel awful thinking about it, it fills you with dread. You can empathize with him as a human so much. And there is so little of him left. He’s hurt and confused, a disabled man looking for answers. And everyone just calls him a robot and slaps him in the face.

And you, as a reader, do not know a lot more about Poets past OR the world he woke up in than Poet does himself. He is, kind of, the readers avatar so to speak of. Poet himself does not get flashbacks or suddenly remembers, unless in dreams and even then, they are mixed with recent memories and unclear. And that’s what I really like about this: the amnesia trope is there and is here to stay. No matter how disturbing or violent or how much his body remembers, his mind simply does not. He’s met with people of his past which make him trembling with fear, but he does not know why, the memories do not come back.

I told a friend of mine to read it and they told me “Poet isn’t talking a lot that’s boring” and while yes, Poet doesn’t speak a lot in the first 4 chapters, it gets better later. But also, he doesn’t need to talk. He speaks with his face, his emotions. There are many times where you can read his thoughts straight from his face. And that is also what makes him a good “readers avatar” because, you as a reader do not have much influence over the story either. That doesn’t mean Poet does not have any influence - his actions certainly cause him a lot of troubles. But he is not the one to tell the story, he narrates through it.

The story starts slow, but picks up in pace and gets more and more interesting the further it goes. The mystery of who Poet was and what happened to him to end up as a cyborg is, even after 450 pages, still a big question mark. We learn things about Machks and other characters past lives along the way. Things are implied, things are going forward and you want to know more, want to find out. There are no info-dumps and even if, they feel natural. But- and here’s the thing - you are not frustrated about it. The story goes it’s own pace and that’s good. It keeps you hooked BECAUSE it reveals only so little - and throws new questions at you with each reveal, like a hydra.

Your interest in the story isn’t driven by the question “what comes next?” but more about “what had happened before?” and the more you go towards the future the more you learn about the past.

And since I liked the comic so much, I read it again. And again. Until I slowly started to realize, that you can solve parts of the mystery yourself - almost every page has a little hint in it. These are scattered everywhere - from backgrounds, to dialogues, to gestures and visuals. If you know what you are looking for you will find them. Which is, simply said, AMAZING. The level of detail that this comic holds over the span of so many years is incredible. Every single page has a lot of thought put into it. Jackarais uses the visual and textual medium of a webcomic to full extent. Even in the alt text sometimes. 

So…

…next time you re-read Bicycle Boy… make sure to pay attention to the details. And question all of them.

There is a lot to unpack. Disturbing things. The more you try to figure things out, the more fucked up it gets. 

I’m burning to know and excited to see how the story continues.

I love this comic 11/10. Would read again.

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[neuroglitch]

How is the polycule looking these days? I’m poly and dating lots of people some of which I live with too and I always love to see other people living the life. I hope you’re all doing well!!!

Hey anon! Always happy to hear from other polyam people 💕

So I'm not sure when I would have last talked about my polycule so I'll just introduce them from the top.

Atm I live with two partners (one of whom is plural so in practice way more!) and I have two "external partners". The partners I live with are married, but otherwise none of my partners are currently dating anyone else, so in that sense I'm the ~glue~ of the polycule atm. Or maybe I'm just a hoe 😘😏 Aside from these guys, we got some honorary members who are "only" friends (whatever the hell that means), who are also important members of my found family.

I've used the original animal designations from our old @welcome-to-the-petting-zoo podcast.

Quinn (Cat) is all of me (Glitch).

Dae (Hound) refers to the collective formerly referred to as Fox and Trashpanda. Hound and I are engaged. These days I am more or less dating all of Hound. They are doing well. He's been taking T for about a year and he's doing pretty good, he got approved for disability pension which has given some much needed space to heal by doing his own shit. He spends a lot of time zooming up and down the countryside on his scooter 'Lucky', tattooing himself and others, and doing insanely creative awesome crafts and art projects. Hound still struggles with amnesia, and he's still a fundamentally plural person, but the strong dissociative+amnesiac barriers between system members have loosened up, making for a more integrated, yet more plural self-experience. These days a lot of his day to day difficulties come down to physical pain and exhaustion. We are currently also working towards getting him citizenship!

Moose who is legally married to Hound, and who lives with me and Hound, recently finished his education as an embedded software engineer (with a focus on robots!). He's looking for a job atm and even though that process is stressful, he's still doing a lot better from being done with uni, which was frankly a very stressful environment. So he's having a total glow-up 💕

Bear finished their education in psychology a while before me and struggled to find employment, esp. because they weren't necessarily able to work full-time - they recently got approved for "flex-job" which means they can have a 10-20 h job and get paid as if working full-time on that job. They juuuust found employment from next week, so three cheers for Bear!! 🥳🥳🥳

Bat (@the-life-of-bat )has become sooo strong since we managed to get her gender affirming surgery about ... three years ago?! Time sure flies. Like yeah, girl is still traumatized and disabled/mentally ill and whatnot. But her resilience grows by the day, and she is often found hyperfocusing on a most recent project and pulling off insane feats! Also, she's a weeb now. AND I'm old enough not to cringe at someone's genuine joy. Be proud of me! 💪🌈

Lynx and Kat are both close friends/part of the family. I don't know how Lynx feels about me discussing her situation so I won't go into detail, and much more info on Kat can be found over at her blog @compassionatereminders (or check out @2000sgirly where she is currently having a joyful fixation on early 2000s girly pop culture! Even if it's not your thing, her enthusiasm is contagious. )

Overall, we are good. There's hardships to be dealt with, and there probably always will be. Hound's mum is in the process of dying from a fairly aggressive degenerative illness, the immigration laws and psychiatric gatekeeping are tripping people up, I'm struggling to find my place on the "job market", disability and chronic illness will always be a part of all of our lives. But there's also a lot of joy and love and good tidings. And many things that slowly improve and expand and heal and grow.

I'm happy to have so much love in my life, and I'm proud of my little family of delightful freaks and misfits.

[wellnoe]

A while back I saw you made an art piece around the idea of a Maddy lives au and it really interested me! Is there anything specific you'd want for a Happy Maddy Au in terms of character/story/the way Maddy looks and presents her personhood?

i think you're probably talking about this emma/madelyne drawing? if not lmk and i'll respond to the drawing you were actually thinking of!

anyway! i guess the au its from is technically a "maddy lives au", in that she doesn’t die in it, but the actual original point of departure comes way before maddy (mads, in the au) ever enters the picture. mads’s story in the au is very much about the aftermath of her revenge on sinister, on trying to reach personhood once the person who was ostensibly standing in your way is gone, about what becoming ‘real’ looks like in the aftermath of that. it is also about lesbianism and navigating telepathy and emma frost! also, if you want more details on it you should go ask @boo-cool-robot!!! bc it’s also their au and they are way more organized than me in terms of what actually happens in it.

in terms of ‘Happy Maddy aus’ in general, i guess i’m not super interested in them? A lot of what i like about maddy is her tragedy, so removing that makes for a less compelling character to me. i DO want her to arrive at a more stable sense of self at some point. first bc i think she deserves it, but also bc i want her to have stories that don’t revolve around the idea that she doesn’t think she’s a real person. i’d like to see what else she could have going on!

basically the major consistent thing i think of whenever i think of how i’d like to move maddy’s character around is i want her to be a lesbian. i REALLY think she could be a lesbian. like. she is a woman being told that she has been made solely to marry a man and give birth to a child and then she’s told that she’s a failure of a person, the metaphor is SO on the nose. her relationship with scott is designed by sinister and her relationship with alex is manipulative,  it would be so easy to write her as somebody who slowly comes to terms with the fact that she is not interested in men. so first off in any story i think of where maddy even approaches self-actualization, she realizes she is a lesbian.

i also just think it would be fun to see maddy explore what she likes! to me, a return to the person she was before she was in a relationship with scott, or early in her relationship w scott, is still a return to a person who is being led into this thing and doesn’t know it. she is at the very least being manipulated in her life and interests. maddy doesn’t just happen to be a pilot in alaska. yknow. so i think it would be fun to see her journey of evaluation there. what does she throw out as fake and designed for her, what is something she decides to come to and love again, and accept as a part of her. all that could be really interesting to me, and also a part of maddy’s journey toward a more fulfilling relationship to herself (in my head she decides she does like flying. it is a long and hard struggle to separate it from the manipulation and disgust she feels, but she finally does it and is able to embrace it again).

anyway! those are some of my thoughts on maddy and personhood! i love maddy, but you have to have at least a little tragedy first, in the background, to get her to the character i love, so. hope that answered your question in some way, thanks for asking!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛

[womenofwonder]

Option on RWBY ships:

Btw, I don’t usually ship characters. Romance is usually the least interesting part of the story for me so expect a lot of meh.

Arkos: obviously I love this, it’s perfect

Blacksun: ehh, it’s cute. I started out feeling kinda meh, it was sweet but not really interesting, but now it’s growing on me. Ironically the same thing is happening with Bumblebee, although I still like Blake and Yang better platonically

Bunanas: so this is a ship between Velvet and Sun, and it’s honestly really cute to imagine even if it is completely random. I like it better then Blacksun…I think?

Candy Cane: this is just weird. I can’t imagine Nora being anything but a older sister to Oscar. The age gap makes it creepy too, not the four years is much of a gap, but when your teenagers it’s a big gap.

Chocolate Arc: this is hilarious to imagine but obviously yeah, Coco isn’t going to fall for someone like Jaune

Cinnabun: I barely know anything about Yatsuhashi but he and Velvet are cute, I guess? Still like her better with Sun

ClockRose: heck no!

Coconuts: again, can’t see Sun doing anything but annoying Coco. I really don’t like the whole ‘badass jerk of a girl falls for goof ball trope.’ It always ends up feeling sexist in several ways

Combat Boots: honestly outside of an AU I can’t see Yang ever forgiving Mercury much less falling in love with him. Also Mercury just doesn’t deserve her

Combat goggles: I feel like Yang and Neptune would have fun causally dating each other and slowly realizing they actually like (Blake/Sun/Jaune/whoever) and become each other’s wingmen. That fanfic better be lying around somewhere

Crimson Lotus: okay, if I didn’t love Renora and Rosegarden so much I’d probably ship this. It’s really cute

Crimson Sun: this feels like an excuse to write lemons of the two hottest characters

Crimson wings: look I understand most of the shipping heroes with villains because they’re both hot and the villain/hero dynamic is always fun. But Cardin…he’s not even hot. He’s not even interesting. And yet people ship him with Ruby? Why?

Daddie Issues: you know I see where this is coming from but they would just end up murdering each other.

Dairy Farm: obviously this is downright creepy in cannon, but in an au where Neo isn’t evil and both are closer in age, this would be adorable. I feel like Neo’s main problem is she’s incredibly lonely—other then Roman no one bothers to understand or talk to her. If Oscar reached out to her, and she began to protect him…it would be perfect. In way even better then Rosegarden because I think Neo would still be a bit of pycho even when good, and it would be fun to see her lose it when Salem hurts him.

Ilia/Adam: I just want to say I am forever grateful the show went out of its way to avoid this obnoxious, cliche ship from being canon

Dragon slayer: I see why people ship Jaune and Yang, I really do. They’re both the team mom/dad of their team, they’ve got the whole goofball/badass thing going (which is a trope I do like when the badass isn’t a jerk), they both have a good sense of humor, etc. But I just can’t see them as romantic. It feels really weird. I can’t even explain why. I understand shipping them but I really can’t ship them myself.

Emercury: I really love this ship, but I also don’t mind at all if the show decides to make them platonic. I enjoy their relationship in general and it works either way.

Oscar/Emerald: again, feel creepy. I love the idea of a sibling relationship and can’t see them possibly being romantic even without the age gape.

Cinder/Qrow: yeah again. Both are sexy and good for angsty lemons. I’m not into that stuff so I don’t ship them

Fall Stinger: I just don’t know why anyone would ship Tyrian with anyone. Unless it was Salem and even that is super creepy

Firerobber: I like villain relationships but Roman already has Neo and Cinder is a hot mess. Literally

Firewall: I don’t know why anyone would ship Watts with anyone. He’s even worst less ship-able then Tyrian

Footloose: I don’t actually ship it but just imagine Mercury and Melanie bonding over weaponized feet.

Freckles: Yeah this is just painful. The two most adorable characters (Penny and Oscar), who go through the worst things imaginable. It’s endless fluff, angst, and whump, and I love cute romance and tragic romances, so this is definitely something I ship.

Frostbite: seriously, this is so weird and toxic. Having Adam fall for Weiss or vice versa. Maybe it would work in an AU or something but it’s just too creepy

Funky Beats: it’s cute, I ship it.

Gelato: yeah I love healthy villainous relationships! Neo and Roman are freaking adorable, and I’m sad that we didn’t see more of them together.

Grandmasters: I obviously don’t ship Salem and Ozpin because that’s just creepy, but I do like their romance. I like tragic romances, and this probably the most tragic one in existence

Greek Lotus: I don’t see the chemistry and crashes two of my favorite ships so…

Green Knight: well, she kinda helped kill his last girlfriend so…unless it’s AU this isn’t going to work. Even if it is an AU. This feels like another ship made solely for lemons

Velvet/Cardin: yeah, a bigot changing his mind when he falls in love with a minority isn’t cute. Isn’t sweet. It isn’t romantic. I don’t even excuse lemons that use this trope. Even porn ought to be above that

Weiss/Cardin: WOULD EVERYONE STOP SHIPPING CARDIN WITH PEOPLE

Hummingbird: it’s hard to ship something when you only know one character, but I was interested in the theory that Qrow was actually Ruby’s father. But then in season 7 Qrow’s description of Summer made me rethink it, and it didn’t sound anything like how you’d describe a romantic relationship. So I don’t really like that theory anymore

Iceberg: this is just cliche and boring. I get them dating but it wouldn’t last that long

Flynt/Weiss: I really love this one, it’s my favorite ship with Weiss. I don’t want it to actually happened in cannon because that would be random, but I feel like it would be fun for both their characters. And they both share an interest in music. I’m imagining an AU where he gets her into jazz and she starts singing it at all her concerts to the horror of Jaques.

Iron Maiden: honestly what. Why. Gross

Iron witch: well I definitely see why people like it. I actually wouldn’t mind it being cannon, It’d be a good combination of funny/tragic and I’d like to see Glynda mentoring Winter

Jailbirds: this just feels forced and also Qrow is probably too old for her. I like their relationship and don’t want it to be romantic

Knight fall: lemon ship. Moving on

Knight Life: I feel like Jaune just gets shipped with everyone but this is cute I guess

Lancaster: it’s cute, but I can’t ship it because it feels cliche. I was worried that Jaune was going to be her love interest when they first met and was relieved to see him with Pyrrha instead. It just feels forced and boring to have him end up with Ruby

Pyrrha/Mercury: this really popular for some unfathomable reason. I like Mercury but Pyrrha deserves better

Marrowgold (May/Marrow): I just don’t see it

Nikong: Pyrrha and Sun would be cute together, but I don’t really love this ship. It’s kinda meh.

Nora’s Arc: no. Just no. It technically would work but their platonic relationship is way too good to lose

Old Silver: this is Maria/Pietro, and I think it’s adorable. They both strike me as really flirty for their ages and both are very good mentors. They can be the crazy grandparents of the team

Ozglyn: just don’t see it

Phoenix: yeah Raven was a horrible girlfriend/wife. I don’t ship her Taiyang

QuickSilver: Ruby deserves better than Mercury.

Rehab (Qrow/Glynda): the fact that this is called rehab explains why I don’t ship it

ReNora: yeah, this is probably my favorite ship. I don’t think I have to explain why.

Robotic Knight: I briefly shipped this but now disagree

Rosegarden: I really love Rosegarden, they’re just too adorable together, though the whole Ozpin does make it a little awkward

Rosewick: I can’t see this happening, even in an AU

Coco/Fox: I don’t know enough about Fox to really ship them, but the fact that Coco canonically slaps his butt during battle definitely makes me want to

Mercury/Neo: I could see this working. It would be pretty cute

Silent Knight: again, it would have to be an AU and even then I don’t see it working

Snowbird: so at first I really liked the idea of Qrow and Winter being ex’s, but now that I think about it he has to be at least twenty years older then her. Also, I have to say that while they have chemistry I think they would just end up killing each other

Speakeasy (Flynt/Coco): I got to say I like this ship and could see them having a lot of chemistry together

Strawbanna: I just can’t see Ruby and Sun together. It feels weird

Sunflakes: Can’t see it working

Sunflowyr (Ren/Yang): don’t see any chemistry. Again this just seems random

Tauradonna: this is obviously as toxic as you get.

The Hunt (Cardin/Blake): stop shipping Cardin with anyone!

Mercury/Cinder: Mercury is way too young, and even if he wasn’t this would be really weird. Also Cinder makes him look like a stable, peaceful person, so also no.

Toxic Petals: I swear I’m done with this. No more Cardin, Tyrian, or Watts ships. They too gross

Velveteen Knight: Aw, they’d be cute together

White Knight: I really hate this ship. It’s so obnoxious and boring, and nearly falls into the jerky badass/goofball trope I hate

Winter Soldier: ew, no, Ironwood is like her dad

Wise Dragon: anyone care to explain why this is so popular? Sage barely has any character to him, I can’t ship him with anyone

Yellow rose: Yeah, I kinda ship this, but again, it’s difficult when you barely know one character

IronQrow: I understand why you would ship this but I just don’t see it. Guys can hug without being gay you know

Martial arts: why?

Noah’s Arc: why?

Sea Monkeys: again I understand why you could ship it but I don’t. They’re obviously just friends to me

Shovel Knight: like most Oscar ships it feels weird. Jaune is obviously a big brother to him

TaiQrow: As funny as it is for Tai to sleep with every member of his team, I don’t ship it.

Fair game: I really can’t stand Clover so again, don’t ship it

Achilles heel: Cinder literally kills Pyrrha, why would you ship them?

Baked Alaska: lemon ship

Black glass: annnd, another lemon ship.

Blood Mint: yeah I don’t see Emerald and Ruby ever being a couple

Catmelon: I found Ilia’s crush on Blake kinda cringy and I can’t see them being a couple

ColdMurder (Weiss/Cinder): even in an au I don’t see it working

Cold Steel (Penny/Winter) eeewww, they’re practically sisters

Cream Machine (Neo/Penny): I mean…if she wasn’t evil…and wasn’t so much older…it might work? Maybe?

Crosshares: cute but I feel like Velvet is too much of a doormat for Coco

Digital Clock: Ciel obviously didn’t care much for Penny, and she was barely a character at all. I don’t see it

Pyrrha/Nora: don’t see it, and also can’t stand the idea of breaking up the two best ships

Falling Petals: I get that Cinder is hot, but can we stop shipping her with the kids she’s trying to murder? Because I can see several things wrong with that

Freezerburn: again, for no reason that I can think of this ship just doesn’t work for me. Much like Dragonslayer it just feels weird

Gingersnaps (Penny/Nora): that would be chaotic. I can’t really see them romantically though like most Penny ships it would be cute

Guilty Conscience (Bree/Winter): oh please no. They really don’t have any reason to be together

Ladybug: I just can’t see Blake with Ruby at all. Blake feels way to old even though she’s only older by two years.

Milk and Cereal (Ruby and Pyrrha): I guess it would work but I just don’t any chemistry

Mint chocolate (Emerald/Coco): if Coco managed to forgive her for everything that happened at Beacon I could maybe see this happening. There is some chemistry

Mommy issues: Nah, can’t see this working out.

Monochrome: Blake and Weiss have never had any romance chemistry despite plenty of opportunity to have it, so again, I see them as strictly platonic and shipping them feels almost like incest. I know that doesn’t make sense

Nordic Winter: I can’t see Weiss handling Penny, but again, any Penny ship is pretty cute

Nuts and Dolts: I would ship, but I like them together platonically too well. Definitely understand the ship, though I find it funny that Ruby, who insist she likes weapons better then people, would fall in love with a personified weapon. I know that’s probably racist against robots

Overheating (Penny/Cinder): I take back what I said about every Penny ship being cute

PennyWeiss: but this one is pretty cute

Pink Lemonade: can you imagine the chaos of Yang and Nora dating each other? They both need someone with a cooler head to keep them in check

Scheenoks: with Weiss’s fangirling I can definitely see were this is coming from, but Weiss is too mean for Pyrrha

Steadfast: I really don’t ship any of the ace-ops with anyone. I found them all boring and annoying except for Marrow

Strawberry Shortcake (Neo/Ruby): not seeing it

Sugar Rush (Ruby/Nora): Again, too much chaos. They both need chill partners. And I love Rosegarden and ReNora too much

Thunder cat (Blake/Nora): don’t see any chemistry between them

WhiteRose: I can see why this is shipped and I don’t dislike WhiteRose shippers. I just prefer Rosegarden, and find Weiss and Ruby working better together romantically

Bumblebee: again, I see this working better platonically, not romantically. It kind of annoyed me at first, but it is growing on me, much like Blacksun. I still like Blacksun better though

Enabler: No.

[ssscentral]

serotonin | for ara

Summary: He loves to rile you up - and you let him every time.

Pairing : Jungkook x female reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance, e2l (but not really), Established Relationship

Warnings : Kissing - nothing else

WC : 1.5k

Member : Lillia & Rid || @moccahobi​ & @taegularities​

A/N : HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR MAKNAE @heejinnien!!!!!! I hope your birthday is an amazing one! Some of us (@tae-cup, @hoebii, @jinings, @voiceswithoutlips, @biaswreckme, and @xiaokoo) have created a few collaborative pieces for your birthday! So take some time to celebrate and relax with our fun (and most def not quickly put together) fics! We love you so much and are so glad to be friends with you! May this birthday be an amazing one!!!! 💜💜 - Lillia

Jungkook was the epitome of hard work. If there was anyone you would’ve named as annoyingly competitive at your school, it would’ve been him - sarcastic, fierce, smart, always trying to up you whenever he could.

The science lab that you both shared was always an intense business, and the class knew how the whole lab would be punctuated by the teacher deciding which of you was more correct as soon as you and Jungkook entered the room. The semester had started one month and a half ago, but the whole team of teachers had taken note of the mess that the pair of you were. From trying to out correct each other to vying for the TA’s praise, the competition between the two of you was something that made everyone gawk and laugh at. This lab was no different.

It was a simple class to help you start familiarizing yourself with tardigrades before you did experiments on them later. You were simply tasked with drawing them and documenting the development of their eggs, but you didn’t think even such a thing could turn into a full-on war between Jungkook and you.

“So, if you look closely, some of you might have pregnant tardigrades under their microscope. The person who spots them and manages to document everything correctly, will get some chocolate from me the next time,” your teacher encouraged you, always the nicest sweetheart of your college.

Curse Jungkook’s superior art skills because even though both of you had pregnant tardigrades, it was like comparing a toddler’s hard work to something that belonged in MOMA.

“Teacher…” Jungkook shot you a knowing look after interrupting more of the teacher’s praise of his diagram.

“Yes, Mister Jungkook?”

“Well, you see… I know you expressed a want to hang up the diagram… but I honestly don’t feel like it’s the best I can do. Especially since Y/N knocked my elbow a few times and even scribbled something on my paper. I mean, I tried to make the scribbles look like part of the diagram… but I know I could do better. Could I try to redo it for extra credit?”

“Miss Y/L/N. Did you really try to ruin his work?” 

You floundered some and glared at the lying Jungkook, “N-no! I mean I did bump into him, but when our chairs are so close together, it is bound to happen! It wasn’t to try to sabotage him.” 

The teacher’s eyes narrowed before she nodded at Jungkook and continued on with the lesson, her better nature taking what you said as truth… as it was! That “bumping” was simple brushing him… that you might have intended, but still! Not maliciously! When the teacher’s back was turned to you and Jungkook, you sent him a glare, to which he smirked back before focusing on the teacher again who was pointing out more details about the tardigrades that needed to be added to diagram labels. 

And although the lesson was still not over - technically - she spoke up as soon as you and Jungkook handed in your work. “Perfect! As promised, Mister Jeon and Miss Y/L/N may leave earlier - you worked hard today again!” your professor announced, clapping her hands and spurring on the rest of the class to do the same - you could clearly see how annoyed and unmotivated your classmates were, and it made you chuckle.

Grinning back at Jungkook, you put the strap of your bag around your shoulder, knowing that he’d follow you very soon. He always did. The corridor was empty, the classes still going on as you heard his faint footsteps behind you. You rolled your eyes - no matter how many times you beat him in class (even if today, you only beat him by answering more stuff correctly), he’d always stay right next to you.

You walked in silence for quite some while until you stepped out into the pleasantly warming sun, the fresh wind grazing your skin and playing with your hair softly. There was a park you’d always go to, one that belonged to the campus, but mostly stood empty despite the large number of students at your school. Most of the students spent their days flitting between classes and fulfilling last minute assignments and they barely had time to look or go to the park that was ever so slightly out of the way from the other, less cool, outdoor spaces your college offered. 

Considering the fact that beautiful flowers and plants bloomed on the grounds of the small park, you felt like the students who never cared to visit were stupid and oblivious to the park’s amazingness. It was a perfect place to study, relax or spend time with friends, and now that you were released from your last class of the day, you didn’t yet feel the urge to go back to your dorm room yet. You approached a bench, your bench, directly next to the swing set.

As you almost reached it, still aware of how close your rival was, Jungkook suddenly grabbed your wrist to pull you close to him, his face just inches away. Trapping you in his arms, his eyes wandered to your lips.

“Aren’t you tired of following me around all the time?” you asked with a bratty smile, throwing back your hair as you awaited his answer.

“How could I ever?” And without a warning, he pressed his lips against yours before you could even give him your devilish smirk that he loved so much.

That was bound to happen, you knew it, and you relished in the intense feeling his careful touch gave you. He kissed you gently and with so much unsaid emotion that you tried to match, enjoying the soft touches of his hands against your body and the feel of his firm body under your hands. All of this, you both and your secret relationship, had started not long ago. Always the bantering couple that the school loved so much and you had long been selected as the ultimate OTP - something that meant one true pairing nowadays, many students asking if the class rivalry had ever become more.

As he kissed you, mouth moving against yours tenderly, softly, affectionately, the excitement in your body increased, wanting nothing more than to stay here in the empty park with him forever, pressed against his chest. In his arms with your lips locked together, nothing else seemed to matter. Not his insane art skills or who outperformed the other in class or grades. It was just the tender kisses and touches of him.

When he let go, stroking your cheek with his fingertips gently, he smiled endearingly. “Seeing you all riled up and motivated to beat me is so hot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you pushed him away slightly, but his hands on your waist stayed stubbornly, firmly holding you in his grip as he laughed at your expression. “Good that you think that. I just can’t believe how much fun you have annoying the hell out of me in front of our teachers.”

“You’re the cutest when riled up,” Jungkook said with a smirk.

“And I can’t believe you said that I scribbled on your diagram today! We are stooping to lies now?”

Jungkook laughed lightly, one of his hands traveling down your arm to hold your hand. “Well… You got all pink when I brought up the bumps. I enjoyed watching you flush. You’re just so cute, Y/N.” He pinched your cheek as he said the last words.

What? You blinked slowly, a robotic laughing coming out of you. “Jungkook. I love you… but don’t do that again.”

“What? Can you repeat? I didn’t hear?” Jungkook’s ears were pink as he looked at you hopefully, his eyes glistening and shining as he spoke.

“Don’t do it again.” 

“Nooo! What was the first part? I wanna hear it again.” He whined and squeezed your hand tightly while bringing it up to his chest. 

Mimicking a deep thought process, you pursed your lips and scrunched your brows together. “No. You’ve not been a good boy.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as his lips parted wordlessly, his hand going slack in yours. Laughing excitedly, you quickly removed yourself from Jungkook, set your bag down, and started off away from him.

“You might have to catch me to get me to say anything more!” you shouted when you were only a meter or so away, quickly catching Jungkook’s attention once again.

Even from how far away you were, you saw the tell tale competitiveness flow into him as he raced off after you. A squeal left you when he came closer and you quickened your pace, but it was no use. Jungkook was so much faster and stronger than you and before you knew it, he had swooped you up in his arms and spun you around.

“Tell me, you love meeee!” Jungkook whined childly as he set you down, pouting at you as he started to pepper your face and neck with soft kisses.

His kisses tickled you, and he enjoyed that every single time. “I-I lo-love yo-you!” you managed to squeal out before once again, he was kissing your lips.

“Good, because I love you too.” 

[amayawolfe]

Teacups (Illumi x Fem.Reader)

(A/N:  mild fluff, pregnancy, angst, nudity, cross dressing (sorta?), bathing together, emotional struggle)

Word Count: 5755

Name Key: (o/d) = older daughter (name)   (y/d) = younger daughter (name)

(Summary: You come from a small, yet formidable clan of shinobi assassins and have been married to Illum Zoldyck as a way to create a bond with one of the most powerful assassin families in the world. Even though it had been an arranged marriage, you have come to love and care for your husband deeply.

Seven years have passed since your vows were spoken and you are now five months pregnant with yours and Illumi's third and forth child. You've grown concerned with the lack of bonding between Illumi and your two daughters and suggest a "father daughters' day" while you visit family. Shortly after your return home, you are surprised in how far Illumi has taken your suggestion.)

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow

   "So tell me, (y/n), how have the girls been doing?" your mother asked you over her cup of tea.

   The two of you where sitting at a table just outside your favorite little café in the city nearest Kukuroo mountain. With the sun shinning down on you brightly, warming your skin and clothes, you should have felt relaxed and stress free for a change. However, your mother had a bad tendency to get under your skin.

   You took a sip from your own teacup and leaned back into your chair, rubbing your round pregnant belly as you did so.

   "They're doing well. (o/d) has started her training and is fairing far better than I hoped she would have," you said with a proud smile. "(y/d) has been watching (o/d) and is getting excited for her own training to start."

   Your mother smiled, happy and proud that her granddaughters were showing such keen interest and progress in the family art.

   "I'm so glad to hear that," she said, lightly clapping their hands together in excitement. "They will make wonderfully talented shinobi." She took another sip from her tea before she continued. "And what are the little darlings doing today since you are taking the day off from teaching? I had hoped you would have brought them with you. I haven't seen them in such a long time."

   "Oh, they're having a 'father daughters' day' day with Illumi," you replied nonchalantly.

   Your mother's smile fell away from her lips. She had not been happy with your father when he had made the arrangement with one of the world's mostly deadly and powerful families of assassins.  The youngest of eight children, you were her only daughter. She nearly killed your father when she found out that you were to be married off to the eldest Zoldyck child, Illumi. But by that point the deal was made and there was nothing that she could do.

   Despite being nervous, if not a little scared, you were more than willing to do the deed. Your clan was suffering from lack of work due to over competition. Having ties with the Zoldycks held promise of a more steady stream of jobs. Your clan was highly skilled in their ways and made formidable allies. It was a win win situation.

   The first meeting with your future husband had been an awkward one, to say the least. He was quiet for the most part, and shown less emotion than a corpse. At one point you had giggled at the thought that if he were anymore tense, and just held his breath, he could pass for one.

   Your mother had always said you were a strange child.

   "You mean, they are spending the day with those butlers?" she asked in a condescending tone.

   Mother didn't like the idea of the butlers either. She was one of those that believed you should take care of your own home. To be honest, you secretly believed she was jealous. Having a butler when you had eight children would have been welcomed help, surely.

   "Mother, please be nice," you chided. "You know I consider the butlers to be friends and family as well."

   Out of the corner of your eye you could see the dark skinned young woman, Canary, smile a little as she pretended to read the paper. While she may have looked like she was laid back and inattentive sitting there, you knew that every one of those sharp senses of hers were alert and on the look out for any potential threat to you.

   In truth, you were perfectly capable of defending yourself; pregnant or not. Having been one of the top shinobi warriors in your clan, you were skilled enough to put many of the experienced clans men face down into the dirt. Allowing Canary to come along was to help put Illumi's concerns at ease more than anything else. That, and you enjoyed the young lady's company. She wasn't quite as uptight as most of the other butlers.

   "And I really wish you would give Illumi a chance," you sighed as you refreshed your cup from the decorated cast iron pot that was sitting on the table. "He's been working really hard to improve himself and isn't the same person you first met."

   Your mind flashed back to when Illumi had arrived for yours and his first meet. Mother had tagged along to make sure you would not be killed right on the spot, something you still rolled your eyes at to this day. He had been extremely formal in a robotic and monotone way.

   In the most deadpan manner you had ever seen, he had held up his hand and said, "Hello (y/n)'s mother, I am here to take meet with your daughter to make sure we are compatible before we are married." It was kind of cute, in an odd psychopathic kind of way.

   You were pretty sure your mother had spied on the two of you through out the rest of that day.

   "And no," you continued the conversation with a small shake of your head, "I meant what I said.  I've pointed out to him that he needs to bond with the girls more and made the suggestion for him, and him alone, to spend the day with them."

   "Is that man even capable of 'bonding'?"

   There was a loud "tink" and the sudden sensation of burning washed over your fingers. You had broken your teacup. Your building frustration and anger towards your mother's comments had caused you to squeeze it too hard. The delicate little cup had no chance in the powerful grip you had placed around it.

   Canary stood instantly and began cleaning up the hot liquid before you even had a chance to blink or fully register what had happened.

   "Are you alright, mam?" she asked, honestly concerned. You let out a frustrated sigh and shook the remaining liquid from your scalded fingers.

   "Yes, dear, I'm fine." Your gaze locked with your mother's, "If you can't speak kindly about my husband, mother, then I'm afraid that we are going to have to call it a day." A cold, deadly tone harbored within your voice.

   Your mother sternly held your glare for a few seconds before she closed her eyes and sighed, her body posture crumpled a bit.

   "I'm sorry, (y/n)," she said, slightly shaking her head, "I guess I still feel bitter that your choice on whom to marry was taken away from you. And, I still wo-"

   "Worry about me and the girls?" you interrupted. Canary had finished cleaning the mess and brought you a fresh cup. She gracefully filled it from the same pot you had just used then turned and bowed to you ever so slightly. You thanked her and asked her to return to what she had been doing.

   "Mother, that always seems to be your excuse for your rudeness," your tone was accusatory; your face, stern. "It's been over seven years since Illumi and I were married and I honestly can't think of a time I've been happier."

   Your mother grimaced.

   "Even though our marriage was arranged, he treats me as his equal. Together we have worked on slowly undoing the countless years of damage his parents did to him since he was a child. He's made huge progress, but he will never be what you and I would consider 'normal'. Emotions will always be something difficult for him to understand. Not to mention feel or show. But believe me when I say he does love and care for me, as well as his children."

   Upon saying your last sentence your mother had begun to open her mouth to make a retort, but you already knew what she was going to say and help up a single finger to silence her.

   "Before you even say 'a man who loves his children shouldn't have to be told when he needs to bond with them', keep in mind that his parents never bonded with him. Or at least not in a healthy, loving manner. The fact that he was willing to listen to me, understand what I was telling him, and put in the effort for today speaks volumes."

   You had to stop and take a deep, calming breath. The rising volume of your voice, along with your rising blood pressure and heart rate, was starting to upset the twins within your belly. You could feel them kicking frantically and moving about as you angrily defended their father from your mother. Taking another deep breath, your forced yourself to relax the best you could and began to rub your belly again.

   "I know your weren't entirely happy with your arranged marriage with father," you continued in a calmer state, "but I am. I love Illumi, mother, so very much. I'm sorry that you and father couldn't find a way to love each other the way Illumi and I do. But please, do not try to insert your bitter, negative emotions into our lives. If you can't be happy for me and respect my family as a whole, then I am afraid we will simply have to go back to writing letters to one another until you can learn to do so."

 A glowering expression was now etched upon your mothers face, your own had become deadpan. The two of you stared at one another in silence for a few minutes as the town's normal hustle and bustle of people continued to flow passed you.

   Your mother's lips scowled as she took a deep breath through her nose.

   "Well, in that case, I do believe I will be heading back home," she flatly announced. Your mother removed her napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table as she rose from her seat. With hands shaking from her own anger, she quickly gathered herself together and started to turn to walk away.

   "Farewell, my daughter," she called back over her shoulder, "do contact me when my grandsons are born, will you? I think you will find that I am right by that point."

   You watched the back of her head as she walked away until she disappeared into the crowd. You continued to glare at the spot you had last seen her, the edges of your vision began to turn red and your body began to tremble with seething rage.

   The sudden feeling of your teacup being plucked out of your hands snapped you out of your downward spiral. Looking over, Canary was standing beside now holding your cup.

   "I'm sorry, mam, but I did not want you to burn yourself again," she informed softly. You looked down at your hands just in time to see the last of the white fading from your knuckles and fingers. You must have been squeezing it without realizing it again.

   With a sigh your shoulders drooped and you leaned all the way back into your chair, allowing your head to fall back. You watched the clouds lazily drift across the sky above you as your mind turned.

   I'm sorry father... I tried to mend things with her, but, she's just so damn stubborn and bitter!

   "Shall we call it a day, mam?" Canary asked.

   "No," you lifted your head to look into her gentle grey eyes, "I'm not expected home for another few hours. And to be honest, I do not wish to return home while in such a foul mood."

   "Understandable," Canary set the teacup back down in front of you. "What do you propose?"

   Taking a sip from your still hot tea, you mulled things over in your head a little. Looking at the scenery around you, you hummed in thought and lightly tapped a finger nail on your cup.

   "Ah!" you exclaimed. "How about we have a girls day and do a bit of shopping together before we get something to eat. It should be about time to go home by the time we're done. Maybe we could even get something for your lady friend, Amane" A sly, knowing grin graced your lips and you winked at her.

   "Eh!" she started and looked down, her cheeks darkened a little. "You.. You really don't have to do that, mam."

   "Oh, come on," you laughed lightly, "you know you're the closest person I have to a friend besides Illumi. And shopping with him isn't the same as shopping with you!"

   "I have got to admit," Canary added softly, "Master Illumi does have some interesting tastes when it comes to his choice in outfits."

   You laughed a little louder.

   "That he does, my dear. I suspect he may be getting some influence from that clown friend of his."

   You paid for the drinks and the two of you were off.

   Since this was the first time you were having boys, you wanted to get some new things for the nursery. Most of what you needed or wanted was going to be ordered online, but you still enjoyed going from store to store looking at what each one had to offer.

   After a few hours and many a shopping bag later, you and Canary eventually stop to have dinner. You were more than ready to get off your feet for a little while. The first two times you were pregnant you didn't tire so easily and your feet were not as quick to swell or become sore. Carrying twice as much baby, the case was a little different this time round.

   While waiting for your food, you decided to text Illumi.

You: We're stopping for dinner before we head home, should I bring anything for you and the girls?

   You nibbled on an appetizer while awaiting your husbands response. It didn't take him long as he sent a picture with a blurred portion of his face in the shot and the girls making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with chips in the background. It seemed they were both making a bit of a mess, and was that peanut butter on Illumi's cheek?

Illumi: No, we're good, thank you. See you soon.

   You laughed and showed the picture to Canary who smiled and chuckled lightly. Peanut butter and jelly with chips most definitely would not have been your first choice for dinner. But seeing as Illumi had very limited experience with cooking, it was probably the safest route to go. Most importantly, it looked like they were having a good time.

   Idle chit chat was pleasantly shared between you and Canary as the two of you enjoyed your food. Once dinner was done and paid for, all the shopping bags were packed into the car and the two of you were on your way home.

   It didn't take long for you to start dozing off a little. The combination of a roller coaster of emotions, having been on your feat, being pregnant, and then having a nice large meal had really drained you. The gentle motion of the car was no help either.

   Before you knew it, Canary was calling out to you.

   "Lady (y/n), we're home."

   With a mild start you became fully alert. Blinking, you looked out your window and saw your family's home. Separate and a fair distance from the Zoldyck family mansion, the large house was built for you Illumi just before (o/d) was born.

   You got out of the car and stretched, then turned to Canary.

   "Could you please take those bags to the nursery? I'll go through them later."

   "As you please, mam," Canary replied with a slight bow.

   Thanking her, you turn and head up the stairs to the front door. Upon entering your home, you removed your shoes, set them aside and hung your purse on it's hook. Your ears were alert for the sounds of your daughters and husband. The house was quiet.

   "Illu? (o/d)? (y/o)?" you called.

   "They're in the girls' room, lady (y/n)," a familiar voice replied from the kitchen. Coming round the corner, you found Amane cleaning up the dinner mess your husband and children left behind.

   The mess wasn't terrible. Bread and chip crumbs, smeared jelly and peanut butter on the counters as well as some spilt milk. The sink was filling with soapy water for the dinner dishes to be washed, dried, and put away since their wasn't enough to run the dishwasher. The girls had most definitely made larger messes in the past, but you felt a little guilty none the less.

   "Ah, Amane, I'm sorry. Illumi should have known to clean up after they were done."

   Amane just shook her head.

   "It's alright, mam. There really isn't much to it."

   "I know, but still.." you smile and laugh lightly, "Thank you."

   You continue further into the house towards the girls' room. As you got closer, you could faintly hear your daughters' voices. Curiosity took hold of you and you brought your stealth training into play. Slowly creeping up to the open door, you carefully leaned in and peaked into your daughters' room.

   You blinked once. Twice. Several more times as your mouth slowly fell open in complete and utter shock.

   Your daughters were sitting in their small chairs at a low, round table made for children while you husband was sitting on his knees. There was also a large stuffed dog that looked a lot like Mike sitting in one of the children's chairs at the table. (o/d)'s pastel colored plastic tea set was set up about the table. Little plastic plates held evidence there had once been treats upon them as there were cookie crumbs left behind.

   The girls were dressed in pretty kimonos, gifts from grandmother Kikyo, and were wearing makeup. To much eye shadow and rouge, messy lipstick, you recognized (o/d) handy work. They were having a conversation with Illumi occasionally adding in a comment or answering a question when one was directed to him. Every so often, one of them, including Illumi, would take a sip from their plastic cup.

   But, it wasn't just the sight of your fearsome assassin husband playing tea party with his two beautiful little girls that had caught you so off guard. No, it was how he looked.

   Illumi was wearing one of your fancy kimonos over his clothes. The size of his chest and shoulders prevented the front from closing properly, but the three of them didn't seem to mind. His long, luxurious hair was tied into several messy braids of which varied in size. Each long braid ended with a pastel colored ribbon tied into a bow.

   Copious amounts of makeup in the same manner as the girls was proof that Illumi's face had also been a canvas for (o/d)'s application practice. Jade green eyeshadow nearly reached his high sitting eyebrows and went as far down as tops of his cheekbone. The eyeshadow nearly blended into the large amount of rose pink rogue that practically covered the entirety of his cheeks. Dark plum colored lipstick was messily applied to his thin lips in a manner that reminded you of a comic book villain from your childhood. Illumi honestly looked more clown-like than his friend.

   Once your initial shock had faded, you found yourself smiling from ear to ear. Quietly, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and brought up the camera. You made sure to keep your movements slow as you carefully aimed your phone lens towards your family.

   Just as you were about to take the picture, (y/d) caught sight of you.

   "Mama!!" she happily cheered.

   Her actions caused both (o/d) and Illumi to glance at (y/d) then look in the same direction she was. That's when you took the picture. It was perfect.

   "Oh, hello dear, did you just get home?" Illumi inquired.

   "I did," you replied. You came into the room and smiled at each one of them in turn. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your tea party my darlings."

   "It's okay mama," (o/d) said, "we can move Mike Jr. and you can join us!"

   Before you could respond, (o/d) started to get up to move the stuffed animal. But then Illumi held up a hand, causing her to stop.

   "Actually, I do believe it is close to yours and your sisters bedtime. The two of you should get ready for bed."

   "Awwww," both the girls cried out in disappointment, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

   They really must have been having fun if they don't want to stop. I'm glad.

   "But, we wanna keep playing, papa," (y/d) whined. She was starting to get tears in eyes. It was a sign that she actually was starting to get sleepy, even though she didn't really show it. (y/d) only really ever cried anymore when she was starting to get tired.

   "Now, now," Illumi reached over and patted (y/d) on the head. "We can play more tomorrow after lunch when (o/d) is done with her training. I don't have to leave for my mission for another couple of days, so we have plenty of time to play."

   "You promise?" (y/d) sniffled.

   "I promise," he assured his littler girl in his usual expressionless tone.  

   "Alright then, girls, I'll help you wash up for bed. Illumi? Would please take the dirty dishes to Amane? She's in the kitchen cleaning up right now."

   "Yes, I can do that." Illumi stood and started to collect the dishes when (y/d) suddenly grabbed one of his arms.

   "Papa, please read our bedtime story!"

   Illumi's eyebrows rose a little. He had never been asked to read their bedtime story before. This prospect excited (o/d) as her little face lit up and she eagerly grabbed her father's free arm.

   "Yeah, papa! Please? Could you read us a story tonight? Please?"

   You laughed at your daughters' enthusiasm. The sight of them begging their father like this was just too cute. Illumi looked over at you and you wave your hand palm up and gestured to the girls as if to say, "well?"

  He looked back down at his daughters and gave a single nod. "Very well then. Go with mama and I will read you two a story when you are all cleaned up."

   "Yeeaaahhh!!" the girls cheered together and bolted out of the room for the bathroom. Illumi watched as they ran out, a small, barely noticeable smile was on his colored lips. His dark, wide eyed gaze then turned to you as you wrapped your arms around one of his now vacant ones.

   "I take it you three had fun today?"

   "Yes, I do believe the mission was a success."

   You suppressed a laugh which caused you to make a noise akin to a snort.

   "Bonding with your daughters is not a mission, my love, but it is a worthy goal. And it seems that today was a good step towards that goal."

   "I do not see much of a difference, but I will take your word for it."

   You rolled your eyes and went to kiss him on the cheek, but quickly stopped yourself when you remembered the thick layer of makeup and kissed his nose instead.

   Upon hearing the girls starting to make a ruckus in the bathroom you released your husband and turned in their direction. Illumi took this as his cue to continue collecting the dishes for Amane to clean.

   A few minutes into helping the girls clean up their faces a startled cry from the kitchen nearly made you jump out of your skin. You became alert and listened carefully for any signs of a fight starting. There where none. However, you could hear the voices of Illumi, Canary and Amane talking in a light hearted manner.

   "I think papa scared Amane," (o/d) giggled. You blinked at her and quickly pieced together what she was thinking.

   With the way Illumi looked at the moment, his face and hair done up and wearing clothes in an odd fashion, Amane may have not recognized him right away. You couldn't help but chuckle a little at this realization.

   "I think you're right, (o/d)."

   Once the girls were cleaned up and in their night clothes they both jumped into (o/d)'s bed just as Illumi was returning. (y/d) had already chosen the book for the night and was excitedly waving it in the air. It was "The Big Book of Bedtime Stories".

   Illumi settled down between the girls who snuggled up to him and got comfortable as he turned to the right page.

   "Alright then," Illumi cleared his throat to begin the story, "Once upon a time, in a forest thick with trees and dancing with life, there was a small family that lived in a cottage by the river."

   Illumi continued reading in his steady, monotone voice. It was soothing, if not somewhat hypnotic. You even caught yourself dozing off while seated at the foot of the bed. Looking over at your family, you found yourself smiling once again. It had not even been ten minutes and they were both sound asleep.

   Normally, it would take around 15-20 minutes before the girls would even start to fall asleep. But with the constant activities of the day with their father and his steady hypnotic tone in his story telling, it was almost like Illumi had cast the perfect sleeping spell.

   Your husband had not yet realized the girls so you took out your phone and snuck another picture without him realizing it. You then reached out and gentle squeezed his foot in your hand. He paused and glanced up to see you pointing at your daughters in which he followed your direction. Looking down at the sleeping figures, Illumi's usual deadpan expression softened ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth turned up into a tiny smile.

   Looking back up at you, you gave him a thumbs up and stood up from the bed. He carefully scoot down between the girls to reach where you had been sitting. Once there, he too stood up from the bed then turned and carefully scooped up (y/d) in to his strong arms. Without producing even the slightest of sounds he strode across the room and tucked (y/d) into her bed as you tucked in (o/d).

   You followed Illumi out of the room, turning off the light as you went. Once a little ways from the room, you spoke.

   "I didn't expect them to fall asleep so quickly. Maybe I should have you read to them more often."

   "Hmmm, perhaps," he said thoughtfully. "Although I am sure having a long day had something to do with their tired state."

   "Oh, I'm sure you're right. But still, I think you did a really good job." Illumi actually smiled at your praise. "Now, lets head to our bathroom, I'll help you get cleaned up."

   The two of you headed into the bathroom where you went straight to your vanity to retrieve your makeup removal products.

   "Oh," you heard Illumi exclaim causing you to look up at him. He was leaning across the vanity and looking at himself closely in the mirror. After a few moments he turned towards you with his usual expression and pointed to his face.

   "(o/d) really did a number on me, didn't she. I can see how I startled Amane. I'm hideous."

   You blinked, then burst out laughing. Illumi was somewhat startled by your reaction and he turned to look at himself in the mirror again while still pointing to his face.

   "I honestly don't see what's so funny."

   "I'm sorry, dear," you gasped between bouts of laughter, tears in your eyes," I- It's just- Are you just now seeing your face?!"

   "Well, sort of. (o/d) put this on just before the tea party. She showed me with one of their toy mirrors, but I figured since it was a toy it didn't show very well. It appears I was wrong."

   Your laughter died down and you carefully wiped your tears from your eyes.

   "My love, I think your wonderful." You smiled at him. "You're an amazing man that made his daughters the happiest children in the world today. And for that, you are absolutely beautiful."

   Without moving Illumi simply closed his eyes and a smile of accomplishment and joy spread across his lips. You let him bask in the praise for a few more moments before you reached out and turned him face you. You sat him down on the vanity stool then set to work wiping off the frighteningly large amounts of makeup away with a removal wipe.

   "How did things go with your mother today?" Illumi asked. You paused in what you were doing a little to long, causing him to open his eyes. His large, obsidian orbs gazed into your smaller (e/c) ones. "That bad?"

   You sighed and continued what you were doing, "Yes, she refused to be nice once again. I probably won't even bother to contact her again until the babies are born."

   "That's right," Illumi remembered, a slight sound of excitement in his voice, "you had an appointment this morning before you were to meet your mother. How did that go? What did you find out?"

   Your mother's voice echoed through your mind. Her response to the news you gave her when you had first met for tea that afternoon.

   "Once he finds out those babies are males he's going to insist on training them the same way he was trained. Brutally, and without love or compassion. The traditional Zoldyck family way."

   She's wrong! you thought bitterly. But a shadow of worry made your stomach twist into a small knot.

 "(y/n)?"

   You blinked, you had stopped cleaning his face again while in thought. You weren't sure what expression you had on your own face at that moment, but you could see it was causing your husband to worry.

   Taking his hands into yours you brought them up and placed them on your round belly. A warm, loving smile graced your lips as you peered into his eyes.

   "My love, you will soon be the proud father of two sons."

   You nearly cried when you saw actual joy show on Illumi's face. He leaned forward and brought his head down, touching his forehead to your belly. You cupped the side of his face with one hand and gently began to stroke his head with the other.

   He was silent for a few minutes, living in the moment. Then Illumi shuddered a little as a multitude of feelings surged through him. Joy, fear, excitement, concern, love, anger. It was overwhelming to him.

   "My sons-" he choked on the emotional overload. "My sons, they will be the ones to break the cycle. They will not go through what I went through."

   A surge of relief washed through you causing tears of joy to form in your own eyes. You gently turned Illumi's head upwards to face you and was stunned to see there were actual tears in his eyes as well. Leaning down you planted a warm, loving kiss to his colored lips. Not giving a damn about the lipstick that was now smearing all over your own lips. You then touched your forehead to his and nuzzled your nose against his own.

   "I'm so proud of you, Illu," you spoke softly, "You've come so far. I love you so much, my husband."

 "My wife," he whisper back, his breath brushing your lips, "I couldn't have come this far without you. Thank you, (y/n), I love you, too.”

   You broke away slowly, peering down at your husband with so much love you didn't even know you could emit. His smile was still on his lips as he reached up and brushed his thumb across the smeared lipstick on your lips.

   "Yeah, you're still a mess," you laughed lightly. You grabbed a fresh wipe and set back to work. "Once I am done here you just need to give your face a quick wash. I'll start us a bath then help you take out all of the braids."

   "I would like that," Illumi replied, still smiling.

   By the time you have cleaned the majority of the makeup from his face most of his deadpan expression had returned. The only difference from the norm was that he still had a shine in his eyes and a small smile on his now clean lips.

   He quickly washed his face with special soaps then set to work untying the ribbons from his hair, carefully undoing the long braids. You started the bath. Holding your fingers under the running water from the bath faucet until it was the right temperature, then set the plug. You added yours and Illumi's favorite essential oils before going over to help him with the braids.

   You couldn't help but smile at how he was practically glowing. The two of you made quick work of the braids. You were amazed how not a single hair tangled even in the messiest of braids. Secretly, you believed your husband somehow used some of his nen to keep his hair from becoming tangled and knotted.

   Once Illumi's hair was free of braids and put up into a bun, the two of you stripped to nothing. Illumi climbed into the bath first and settled down without making even the slightest ripple in the water. He held out a hand for you to use for balance as you climbed in next. You settled between Illumi's legs and leaned back into him with a sigh of pure contentment.

   Leaning your head to the side and back onto his shoulder, you felt the warmth of the water seep into your muscles causing your body to relax completely against Illumi's body. Illumi moved his hands to rest on your belly and leaned his head against yours. The two of you relaxed in silence for a few minutes. Both lost in their own thoughts. For once, it was Illumi that broke the silence.

   "(y/n)?" You hummed a response. "Have you thought of names yet?"

   You chuckled, "Not yet, dear. Do you have some ideas?"

   Illumi went into a long list of names and the meanings behind each one. You would comment here and there but mostly just let him talk. It was so rare for him to talk this much voluntarily. And as he rambled on about names and what fun things he wanted to do with all his children, you couldn't help but smile.

   You were wrong, mother, you thought to yourself, My husband may be flawed to you, but he's absolutely perfect to me. And that's all that truly matters.

[urnooboo]

LIFELINES AND LEGACIES - A D&D inspired TS4 Legacy Challenge

By me, @urnooboo!

Even though I’m not active, I wanted to start another legacy challenge, but I didn’t want to do a normal one. Since my friends and I play D&D and love it, why not take inspiration from there? And so here is the culmination of that little brainstorm! It’s my first time making a challenge like this, so hopefully it won’t be that bad. :D It’s a legacy challenge based on the Dungeons and Dragons classes!

If you want to try this challenge out, please use the tags #L&L challenge or #ts4 L&L ! I’d really appreciate it if anyone tries this out just for fun! 

Bit of a warning, this challenge gets a bit chaotic in the middle because...honestly, I dunno,,,,

Rules and requirements under the cut!!

Pack Requirements: All the EPs and GPs except for Star Wars (ew), but you can always skip some requirements if you don’t have the packs for them

You can choose to do this on normal lifespan, but playing on long is allowed too.

So, how do you want to do this?

GENERATION 1: Fighter

You don’t have much right now, but you’re determined to build yourself from the ground up and start a family. You have a strong will to fight when needed and you’re quite athletic. You don’t have to be completely alone at the start of this journey, however, and a long time best friend of yours can be part of your party.

RULES:

Must have Active trait

Fight/”Friendly Spar” with at least 3 different sims and 1 occult sim

Complete Successful Lineage aspiration

Starting funds must be less than 20,000 simoleons after buying a house

Get a job in either the Fitness career or the Military career

OPTIONAL: Can have another sim in the household when starting out, and must be friends with them. They can be your family, childhood friend,existing lover, or just some random roommate. (Also yes, you’re allowed to romance them. Unless if they’re your family, yikes)

GENERATION 2: Druid

Your family may not have had the best financial state starting out, but you don’t let things like money phase you. You’ve always loved nature and going out, and dreamed of wanting to do more for the environment as an adult. You like to take things a bit slowly, and love to lounge around. 

RULES:

Must have Vegetarian, Lazy, and Loves Outdoors traits

Lot must be off-the-grid

Have a green eco footprint

Marry in adulthood instead of young adulthood

Meet and become friends with the hermit in Granite Falls

Max out the Gardening skill and grow your own food

Optional: You must only have one lover and you must woo them with bees

GENERATION 3: Artificer

You’re dissatisfied at how your family lounges around most of the time, and you’re quite the workaholic compared to them. Your career is your life, and you happen to be both ambitious and gifted. Though you love your child but you have absolutely no idea how to be a parent. So you might end up being a bit of a helicopter parent… 

RULES:

Must have Ambitious and Genius traits

Graduate college on a scholarship

Get a job in the Scientist career

Have at least level 6 Robotics skill

Have only one child, born from a one night stand/fling

Never get married

Only do strict parenting interactions with your child

OPTIONAL: Complete the element collection

GENERATION 4: Wizard

You grew up in a house with high expectations, and always wanted to please your family. You worked hard in your studies and in the end- it paid off. But at the cost of you not having much of a social life. However, that really isn’t your priority. Instead, you chose to start learning the magic arts, enthralled by its mystic ways. You were always good at school, so why not start getting good at magic now? As long as you put your mind to it, it shouldn’t be that hard...right? 

RULES:

Must have Perfectionist and Loner traits

Have less than 5 friends

Must finish Whiz Kid child aspiration

Become an “A” student in both grade school and high school

Must have “Responsible” trait when you reach Young Adulthood (via high responsibility value)

Graduate college with a distinguished degree

Become a spellcaster

OPTIONAL: Take the teaching or doctor career

GENERATION 5: Sorcerer

You were born with a magical bloodline, and you love to show it off. You want the whole world to see that you’re a cool prodigal spellcaster. You’re the complete opposite of your parent; loud, outgoing, quick to make friends. You’ve even developed a knack for acting in order to impress people, and you dream of becoming a famous star in order to show those who wronged you before that you’re the best thing on earth. 

RULES:

Must have Self-Absorbed and Erratic trait

Must have weak bloodline trait from parent and become a spellcaster

Reach the Adept, Master, or Virtuoso rank 

Become at least a B-Lister

Get to level 7 of the Actor career

Have some sort of rival

Must have “Good Manners” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (via high manners value)

Must have good reputation

Optional: Be the leader of a popular club and have the Insider trait

GENERATION 6: Bard

You’ve got it all. Rich and famous family, a magical bloodline, musical skill, lots of friends...but something inside you just feels...missing. Thanks to this, you started going around looking for lovers, carelessly tossing aside those who happened to not meet your indecisive standards. It would probably take you years before you calm down and settle with someone you truly care about, but all the heartbreak you’ve caused before that is quite impressive, to say the least. 

RULES:

Must have Romantic, Music Lover and Non-Committal traits

This sim has to be the hottest generation. Go all out yo!!!!

Must have strong bloodline trait but cannot be a spellcaster

Complete the Serial Romantic Aspiration

Work in the Entertainer career as a musician

Have as many affairs as you want and have illegitimate kids BUT…

Your heir must be the result of an affair with an occult sim that isn’t a spellcaster. See rules for next generation below

OPTIONAL: Only get married in late adulthood or elder life stage. You can’t have kids with this person.

GENERATION 7: Warlock

You never really had a close relationship with your “famous” parent, and spent more time with your occult family, making you pretty close with each other. Your half siblings don’t like you because you inherited a part of your famous parent’s fortune, despite being...you know...a paranormal freak? To get around this, you developed quite a skillful tongue, and you know your way around words. Now you’re looking for someone to get some more money from... 

RULES:

Must have bloodline trait AND be part of an occult race that isn't a spellcaster. Like, you could be a mermaid, vampire, or alien with the bloodline trait, or even a half alien or half vampire.

Have a high relationship with your occult parent

Reach level 10 charisma skill and get yourself a sugar daddy/mommy. :D

Now, your path for this generation will differ depending on whether your parent is an alien, vampire, or mermaid, and is based on some of the D&D warlock patrons. However, this divergence is completely optional. and you can just focus on finding a sugar daddy/mommy only

ALIEN PARENT (Great Old One patron) You can be either a full alien or half alien for this one.

Get a job in the Astronaut career and visit Sixam

Max out your Logic skill

If you’re a full alien, memory wipe at least one person who you had a high relationship with if they find out you’re an alien.

Must have Insensitive trait when you reach Young Adulthood (comes from having low empathy)

VAMPIRE PARENT (Undying patron) You can be either a full vampire or half-vampire for this one.

Max out your vampire lore skill

Own a cowplant for as long as possible

If full vampire, turn at least one person into a vampire

Become friends with the Grim Reaper, by any means necessary :)

MERMAID PARENT (Kraken/Lurker in the Deep patron) (UA) You can only be a full mermaid for this one.

Max out your fishing skill

Try to have one child with Sulani Mana trait

Collect 5 rare fishes

Die from polar bear plunge (jumping into a pool outside when it’s freezing cold)

GENERATION 8: Cleric

The generation before was…chaotic, to say the least. You may have occult blood in you but you’re gonna try to set things straight for future generations. How are you gonna do that? BY GETTING RICH, OF COURSE! SPREAD THE WORD OF CAPITALISM AROUND BY STARTING YOUR OWN RETAIL STORE! Or a restaurant, that works too. The most prominent thing that you’ve inherited from your parents is your love of money, and you’re constantly coming up with schemes to get more. Gods may not exist in The Sims, but you might as well worship something that’s powerful. And money is power.

RULES: 

Must have Materialistic trait

Have a job in the Business career, Politics career, or Civil Designer career (Civic Planner) and bop bop bop, bop to the top

Own at least one retail store/restaurant with a rating of at least three stars

Complete the Fabulously Wealthy Aspiration

Eventually move to a penthouse OR one of the big apartments in the business district in San Myshuno

Have only one child

Fall in love with someone from work, then divorce them after having a fight

GENERATION 9: Paladin

Despite the unique circumstances that happened before your birth, you grew up...pretty normal. There’s not much to say about you since your magical bloodline and occult genes are probably dwindling from here, and sooner or later your family legacy will go back to being humans. You’ve always wanted to protect this world and be the one to bring justice to it, so you take up a job in the police force. You and your lover unfortunately had a kid, and even though your lover may have wanted it deep down you actually hate kids. You’ve heard about strange events going on in a town called Strangerville, and you’ve been itching to investigate… 

RULES:

Must be close with Generation 8 sim

Must have Hates Children trait

Have a job in the Police career

Complete the Strangerville Aspiration and become the Hero of Strangerville

Have the “Mediator” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (from high conflict resolution)

Stay in the penthouse/apartment your parent got

OPTIONAL: Complete the “Rambunctious Scamp” child aspiration and get “Physically Gifted” trait

GENERATION 10: Rogue

Ironically, despite your upbringing, you ended up becoming a deviant that has constant run-ins with the law. Your relationship with your family isn’t great, but you’re determined to make a name for yourself as a slippery troublemaker. Your true dream however, is to find your one true lover, since you’re a secret hopeless romantic. Your flirting skills are laughable though, and you tense up whenever you have to do something romantic. How are you gonna find love like this? 

RULES:

Have bad relationship with Generation 9 sim

Must have Kleptomaniac, Gloomy, and Unflirty traits

Reach the top of the criminal career

Complete both the Soulmate aspiration

Whenever you visit another sim’s lot, steal something from their house

Have up to two exes before finally settling on the one you wanna marry

Get friendzoned at least once

Move out of your parents’ penthouse/apartment and into a small 20x15 lot

OPTIONAL: Have negative reputation

OPTIONAL: Be BFFs with your other parent

You can end the challenge here, but there are still some more D&D classes left to do, so here they are, the optional generations!

GENERATION 11: Barbarian

You take after your parent a lot, and you’re skilled in making people absolutely hate you. Your emotions are just as stable as Philippine wifi, and you have this terrible habit of getting into fights a lot. But just because people don’t like you doesn’t mean you can’t go out and have fun. In fact, you’re quite infamous for going out to parties and starting bar fights. 

RULES:

Must have Hot-headed and Mean traits

Must have “Uncontrolled Emotions” trait when aging up into Young Adulthood (from low emotional control)

Fight as many people as possible, make lots of enemies

Throw a lot of parties and go to lots of bar nights and events

Complete Public Enemy aspiration

OPTIONAL: Die from cardiac arrest

GENERATION 12: Monk

For someone with a public nuisance for a parent, you’re pretty chill. You love to make stuff, and your way of life is quite tranquil, to say the least. You’re handy and artistic, and love to do things yourself, even if it does give off the impression that you’re super cheap. You’ve always got a gift for someone during christmas, and your inventory is full of stuff that you’ve made, or components to make stuff with. The world is cool with you, and you’re cool with the world. You’re not the type of person who could hold down a regular job though...

RULES:

Max out the Wellness skill

Must have Maker trait

Be at least level 4 in the all following skills: Handiness, Fabrication, Painting, Writing, Flower Arranging, and any instrument skill. (Also Knitting, if you have it)

Always change jobs when you reach level 4 in them, and your only truly stable source of income is from selling the stuff you’ve made

Live on an off-the-grid lot, preferably somewhere near the water or near a forest

Have twins for kids and only those twins (you can cheat to get this ahhaha)

Elope only, cause weddings aint your style

Explore Selvadorada with your family at least once

GENERATION 13: Ranger

After you and your family went on a vacation to Selvadorada, you decided that you’d travel the world, no matter what! Your twin sibling was originally gonna help you complete this dream, but unfortunately they died due to mysterious circumstances. While you mourned away your sorrows, you came across a stray animal that reminded you of your late sibling and decided to take it in. Once you got yourself together out of your slump, you decided to pack your bags and start travelling around the world for realsies.

RULES: 

Be BFFs with your twin

Twin sibling must die during their teenage/early young adult years

Adopt at least one pet after that (yeah, you can have more)

Complete Friend of the Animals aspiration

Visit all the vacation worlds at least once in your lifetime

Discover all the secret lots except Sixam

Visit at least one lot in each normal world with your pet

Move household at least once

Don’t have children

And that’s it! I hope you guys enjoy this challenge!! I’ll try to play this too, though I might be even more inactive since school is finally starting hnnng you guys are free to tweak some requirements to better suit your gameplay so just have fun and enjoy!!!

[chowtrolls]

Inferno

Length: 2155 Words TW: General Violence, brief mention of drugs. Brief: Boe causes problems for Bruuno. Credits: there's a reference to the Divine Comedy.

Google Docs

Bruuno knew the office building like the back of his hand. Walking in through the back cargo entrance was the easiest way in. The violet guard had basically watched Bruuno grow up and actually smiled as he passed. He towered over the violet at this point but always felt a small connection to the stranger, and made a point of smiling back. The elevator complained loudly when Bruuno stepped inside. The elevator only had twelve buttons. The thirteenth button was disguised as the emergency alarm. It was muscle memory by now, Bruuno held the alarm as it rang for fourty five seconds. The alarm stopped and the elevator started to go up.

It opened into a dimly lit hallway. Expensive art decorated the walls, each painting in the same exact spot as it had been the first time Bruuno walked past them. They always had a way of making him feel small. Chilly air encouraged him to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The secretary was gone, but the door to Boe's office was unlocked, so Bruuno invited himself inside.

"Hello, Bruuno. Always a treat to see you. How are you? It's been ages." Boe's voice filled the silence immediately. The jade had been waiting, standing in the center of his wide office. He always spoke too much. Despite being spoken to, Bruuno instantly knew something was wrong. There was a deafening silence. More notably, there was no fuchsia wriggler jumping up and bodyslamming him while laughing.

"Where's Shi?" Bruuno turned to the jade with a look of confusion. Boe's relaxed smile planted a seed of worry in the fuchsia's chest. His shoulders lifted slightly in a nonchalant shrug, as if they were discussing the location of a book and not a child.

"She's safe." Boe's voice, smooth as silk and honey, did nothing to ease the growing concern.

"I didn't ask if she was safe." Bruuno stepped closer to Boe, brow furrowed, "I asked where she was."

"And I asked how you were. You've been clean for a while, isn't that nice?" Boe closed the gap between him and his former charge. Bruuno's intimidation attempt went entirely ignored, the jade was seemingly unafraid of anything Bruuno may do. Boe's hands left his pockets so he could straighten the fuchsias' jacket, closing it slightly. "Your little moirails helped with that, right? Awfully sweet of them. You really owe them one."

"I don't owe anyone shit." Bruuno didn't stop Boe from touching him, but made no effort to hide the hostility in his voice. "Boznik, where is Shiloh?"

"Mmm, wrong there buddy. You still owe me." Boe smiled and patted Bruuno's chest, knowingly ignoring the constant pestering over Shiloh. Bruuno's expression must have been blatantly confused once again, because Boe laughed. The jade turned away from the conversation, walking over to his desk. He straightened out some papers as he continued.

"I only let you go because you became a liability. Became sloppy! Messy! Hard to fix your mistakes. You must've thought you were so smart, blaming that pesky little addiction problem on your matesprit. I knew what you were doing, Bru. You're not as clever as you think you are." Boe snickered softly as he spoke. Normally an unprofessional move, but Boe didn't care too much for the formalities when it came to his former charge. "I saw what you did to that other little fish, Klasha's brother. Both arms! Impressive! Ripped them off like they were nothing! Now Bruuno, that is the man I raised." Boe paused and looked up from his desk. Bruuno's silence was deafening as the horror started to sink in.

"I let you have your little fun. I helped you, even. You got to have your fifteen minutes of fame. You seadwellers live for so long...it really was just fifteen minutes out of that ancient lifespan of yours. And be honest with yourself Bru, who do you think helped you get there?" Boe's voice got softer, near a whisper, "I spared your life. I gave you fame. I let you have this glorious little life. And now you have to pay me back."

Each word that left Boe's mouth was a dash of salt on the ever growing wound. Anger started like milk on the stove, it always did. Slowly and slowly heating. One had to keep their eye on the pot every second it was there. It was so easy to just glance away for a moment, but doing so would cause the entire pot to boil over. Bruuno's anger was the same, growing slowly and unchecked until the pot boiled over and the contents burned everything around it.

"I never fuckin' asked you to spare me." Speaking between his teeth did little to hide the venom dripping from his voice. "I would've fuckin' preferred you didn't. But I didn't get a fuckin' say in any of this." Bruuno's fins pressed down flat like a cornered cat's ears.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Boe's smirk faded into an unamused frown. Any normal troll would've thought twice about being alone in a room with such a furious highblood. Boe knew better than anyone how catastrophic highblood rage could be. And yet, he stood before Bruuno, cool as a cucumber, collected as ever. He knew in his heart that Bruuno was a pushover, too soft to cause problems or stir the pot. Boe knew the troll he raised, how could he not?

Just as Boe knew Bruuno would never hurt him, Bruuno knew the jade would never harm Shiloh. There was an unspoken line between them that neither would dare to cross. Shiloh happened to stand directly on that line. Despite his rage, Bruuno knew Shiloh would be fine. She was most likely with Chowow, or Kamuuk, and they just hadn't told him. She certainly hadn't a single clue what was going on. Good, because this wasn't about her. His anger was less about Shiloh, and more the sheer audacity. The gall that Boe possessed to even dream of having that control over Bruuno's life. As the two stared each other down, Boe felt safe. Secure. He was certain that Bruuno would bend to his whim. After all, the fuchsia seemed to bend however someone wanted him to, why would he do any differently to Boe?

Boe's sense of security held Bruuno in his place. He felt small, smaller than he ever had in his entire life, because he knew what Boe thought of him. A passive troll who simply wishes to please everyone, who has no self worth beyond what he can present to others. He had done so much to get to where he was in life. Even if Boe really WAS pulling the strings, Bruuno was happy. He was genuinely happy with his life, the path he was heading down. For the first time in sweeps, Bruuno finally felt like he was healing. He no longer lamented over the torment he caused others, and the days spent awake wondering if karma would present itself with glittery fins once more seemed rare now. The pot of anger had boiled over moments ago, and was starting to burn in Bruuno's chest. One can never remember pain, brains aren't programmed to remember pain, but the raw burning in his lungs was so painstakingly familiar. It was an infection he covered up so well he started to believe it was really gone. An infection he had for so long that he almost felt empty when he covered it that well. Now that the anger fought through the makeshift gauze of happiness, Bruuno realized he missed it, in the same way someone misses a toxic friend or a migraine they had for too long. It had become a piece of him.

Bruuno remembered snippets from working under Boe, but more importantly he remembered how much he hated it. He hurt so many trolls for no reason beyond being told to. He was taught how to hold a gun before he was taught how to write. He learned the best methods of a hidden execution before he learned how to cook. The best took for pulling fingernails, pressure points to incapacitate someone, the direction to aim a weapon so it looked like an accident. From the best cleanup crew to call, to the safest places to dump a body, and the best excuses to tell a drone. Everything Boe taught him centered around pain and violence. Destroy lives and cause destruction for the sake of money and power. Breaking bones and shooting trolls at point blank did nothing but cause anxiety and depression, and created the insecurity that allowed Bubble to seep into his life like a virus. Bruuno was never happy with who he was or what he was doing. Who was Boe to decide if Bruuno got to be happy or not? Only Bruuno could decide that.

And Bruuno decided that he did deserve to be happy. That he didn't deserve this; not from Boe, or Bubble, Carina, the Empire, Shrivo, anyone else. He was worthy of being happy. And he didn't need to make himself valuable to others to be worthy of it.

By the time Bruuno had come to this mental conclusion, Boe had started and nearly finished another cheesy and demented monolog. He strolled right up to Bruuno once more, chattering away while folding some boring origami crane. At the end, he just crumpled the crane up in a dramatic show of power. It was apparent that he thought of himself as some kind of villain, that the hero in this story would do as every hero does. No hero would ever harm the villain, because that'd make them equal and just as evil.

But Bruuno was not Aeneas, nor was he Paul. There was hardly anything heroic about him.

"So, you see my point, Bru? Just a pawn in the game of life. An important pawn to some, sure. But you, too, can be so easily crushed." Boe's smile was sinister, but frankly Bruuno found it annoying. The burning anger had created the desire, no, the need to destroy, to break things.

The fuchsia silently looked at the crumpled paper in Boe's palm. After a moment, he gingerly took the crane from Boe. It was so small in his hand, so fragile, but he still craved to demolish it. Boe's smile returned, obviously pleased that his words stuck with his charge. That was, until Bruuno dropped the crane without a care and instead grabbed onto Boe's robotic wrist with one hand, and the opposite shoulder with his free hand. Without hesitating, Bruuno destroyed. He tore Boe's arm off, just as he had done with Meduza. The prosthetic came off like a breeze, but it was obviously never meant to, permanent prosthetics are so expensive and difficult to replace so they were secured in the socket so neatly. There was nothing neat about it now. Boe's expression was horrified. If he made a sound, Bruuno didn't hear it. All he heard was the crumbling of metal and the tear of flesh. The prosthetic may have been sturdy once but it bent and folded under the pressure of Bruuno's closing fist. The jagged parts of the metal cut his hand but the pain was a welcomed feeling, grounding almost.

The arm dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and Boe did too. Jade started to pool under him and stained his white button down. Boznik tried to prop himself up and move away, but was pushed back down by Bruuno's foot.

The weight of an 8 foot fuchsia on his chest was nothing compared to the weight of the trauma that hovers over Bruuno's heart constantly.

"How's that fer the man you raised? Still like 'im?" Bruuno's expression was deadpan as he spoke, with just enough weight on Boe's chest to hurt. "A real fuckin' asshole, ain't he? Takes after his lusus. Y'know how it is. Like lusus like son, eh?" A bitter laugh escaped, and only grew louder as more pressure was applied. Bruuno heard and felt a couple cracks, the pain being confirmed by Boe's strangled gasp of pain.

Boe was no stranger to pain, but the crushing weight on his chest and white hot burning from his arm had him fading in and out. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible, and was instantly better as Bruuno got off his former lusus.

"I hope we both rot, ya daft fuckin' jackass. Don't try this shit again." Bruuno wasn't certain if Boe even heard him, but he felt better saying it out loud.

He made sure to hit the emergency alarm on Boe's desk before he left out the way he came. The violet security guard was still at his post by the cargo entrance. The radio on his vest was going off with frantic chatter as Bruuno passed him.

He made sure to smile on his way out.

[popculturebuffet]

Sparkshortstravaganza! (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Well this was a needed kick in the pants. When I first heard of the Sparkshorts program I was excited. As a kid I loved PIxar, as an adult I love pixar and as an old man dealing with the loss of his partner floating away in my balloon house, i’ll still love pixar. So the idea of a program focused on giving new fresh talent the room to do whatever they wanted and make content that would be on Disney Plus, a platform BADLY bereft of original animation? It was a dream come true and the first one I saw Kitbull is easily a masterpiece and something that I can vividly recall every part of to this day, which for my terrible short term memory recalling EVERYTHING is a rare feat few works have achived.  But given I have a REALLY bad habit of letting things I want to watch sit there if I don’t jump on them immediately.. I let it sit there and didn’t touch any of the shorts and mostly forgot about the program until now. Until Kev, my patron and the only person paying for reviews at the moment, though others are more than welcome wink wonk, just decided what the heck and to test out comissioning shorts picked these ones because why not. And given I had been dragging my feet and reading the descriptions found creative and suprisingly heavy premises... I was fully on board And better late than never because along with Soul this program has EASILY restored my faith in the company after Onward really disapointed. Granted they’ve done worse, while there are pixar films I haven’t seen I need to like Coco or Cars 3, I’ve vowed NEVER to watch Cars 2 unless I have to and that vow has served me well so far. The shorts here are as a whole beautifully animated, have a ton of wonderful concepts and even the two weaker ones are still gorgeous to look at and a decent watch regardless and both come from a very well meaning place with a very well meant message. So yeah i’m thankful for this comission and to show you why let’s go through every Sparkshorts so far and see why their so awesome.. after some background of course. 

Sparkshorts, for the uniniated, is a program by pixar where animators are given six months and a limited budget to create a film based on personal experince. The program was designed to test out new ways of animating, directing and creating and to find a creative “spark” in it’s employees. Thus each film feels unique, has it’s own style.. and is utterly charming. I’ll be looking at them chronologically as while this wasn’t my watch order, I feel it’s a bit neater that way. I’ve already taken long enough to get to watching these, let’s open these films up and see what makes them tick shall we?

Purl: An Adorable Yarn Ball Vs Toxic Masculinity  Purl.. was better the more I thought about it. The first short released, it DOES have a good message and killer animation. The film takes place at B.R.O., a dude broey brockerage firm that’s painfully relasitic both in how broey it is and in how it looks. That’s to contrast our heroine: Purl, an adorable ball of yarn who just wants to be accepted but is instead ignored by the rest of the company till she changes herself up, donning a suit like her co workers she badly wants to fit in with and adopting their wolf of wallstreet esque douchebaggery. She finally gets accepted.. but ends up shedding her new self to help another Yarn Ball starting up.  Director Kristen Lester drew from personal experince, starting work at animation in a mostly male dominated workplace and thus having to adapt and only letting the femine side she’d repressed out when she moved to working at pixar, which had more female employees. The film DOES have a good message about toxic workplaces and toxic masulinty and learning the personal story did raise it a few notches as it made it clear to me that what SEEMED like an over exageration.. was probably just a light exageration given the kind of bro antics we’ve heard about at companies like Ubisoft. So while I didn’t like the film much at first honestly.. it’s over the top because it NEEDS to be because even though it’s 2021.. some idiots STILL don’t get it and kids are better off learning it now so it’ll hopefully stick when their entering the workforce. So we’ll get more people like perl willing to make a change and stick up for those like her and less dude bros. Still a decent and clever short with Perl’s bro form looking really neat and the animation on her in general is really fucking gorgeous. All in all not the best of these but still pretty good and while a bit thick on the message.. it kinda has to be. 

Smash And Grab: A Jaunty Ride to Freedom

This was a really fun one. Directed by Brian Larson and inspried by his need for a break from routine this follows two robots, the titular smash and grab who are designed to well.. smash and grab coal-like energy things for a train and have for years and years. The two long to high five, but can’t because their hooked to tubes so they can’t escape. But one day Smash looks out the window and not only sees fellow robots living a better life.. but a way to power him and his buddy/love intrest? I mean bromance or romance, either way it works. Point is our heroes escape, and have to fight security.  It’s just a really damn fun and creative movie. While robots wanting a better life isn’t new, the crisp art deco animation, breakneck pace, fun gags and heartwearming relationship between the two bots is just charming as hell. It’s just a fun ride the whole way through with a lot of heart and creativity with the two’s way they throw coal to one another used to take out the guards, and all together just some really good set pieces. Easily one of my faviorites here and that’s a high water mark to pass. 

Kitbull: Tiny Orphan Kitty + Big Abused Doggo = Best Friends

As I said this is the only one of these I saw before today and as I said it’s stuck with me. I love dogs. I have one of my own named Yoshi whose just a sweet boy. So i’ve always loved ALL DOGS.. and was thus horrified years ago when I learned about the stigma Bulldogs get. Seen as “agressive’ and “Mean’ and victious.. when really a lot of them, including my grandpa’s own pitbull when I was little, are just loveable as any other dogs. And having also known a former fighting dog my friend owned, if a much smaller min pin rather than a pitbull, who by the time I met him had become the sweetest dog you’d ever meet.. yeah.. don’t mistreat a dog just because some assholes force it to fight to the death because their sick, horrible, ghastly human beings.. if they can even be CALLED human beings after doing that to these poor animals.  My point is it’s nice to have a short about such a needed subject. Director Rosana Sullivan actually had the idea for the short for years and intended to do it as a side project, but when the program cropped up she moved it to pixar and the result is one of the most popular and easily one of the best of an already bright bunch, brought on by her love of animals and working in a shelter. It’s also one of Pixar’s first 2d animated projects and proves their just as good at that as cgi.  It’s the touching story of a kitty whose alone in the world and initally mistrustful and hissy at a big dog she finds and is naturally scared of.. until she grows to bond with the dog, realizing much like a LOT of fucking people need to that pitbulls.. are just dogs and often victims of circumstance and the poor, sweet pooch who just wants his owner to love him.. is instead thrown into a fighting pit, nearly killed and forced to make a daring escape with their new forever friends help. It’s through this wonderful, heartrending friendship that the dog finds freedom and the cat.. finds them both a home, no longer running from people but instead making sure they both get a person. It’s often brutal at times, with the scene of the dog being forced to fight being one of the most striking: while we thankfully don’t see the action, we HEAR IT, as does the poor kitty, and we see the aftermath: a friendly harmless dog thrown out into the cold just because it dosen’t WANT to fight. It’s just really heartrending stuff that makes the happy ending all the better. It’s also gorgeiously animated which I mentioned but i’ll say it again; the animation here is GOREGOUS, unqiue and stunning. Go watch this if you haven’t. 

Float: This is Why Krakoa Exists

This.. has easily been the hardest to review of the bunch. While ALL of these stories are very personal, very inclusive and very intresting, this one.. is a bit rougher than most of them and hits REALLY close to home. See this one was built out of director Bobby Rubio’s experinces raising his son who has autisim. 

It’s about a dad who discovers his infant son can float... and thus gets stares of fear or judgment from eveyrone around him slowly getting broken down by this. So he makes a HORRIBLE judgment call and rather than just accept some people are assholes, weighs his son’s backpack down with stones despite him hating it then drags him away when he ends up floating off, before screaming at the poor kid WHY CAN’T YOU BE DIFFRENT.. He DOES instantly regret this and the ending is genuinely touching as the father finally accepts his son is different and throws him into the air while on a swing, letting his son soar as he always should’ve. It is a beautifully animated and well meant film and the filipino representation is truly great: Rubio originally was going to have the characters as white but his fellow animators convinced him to go for represntation and be true to himself and honestly in a time when disney itself has had to be fought to get queer representation most of the time, it’s nice that pixar at least is a part of it that throughly encourages representation and will gladly put diversity and representation over any bullshit “risk factors”.  That being said.. while this was a decent short with a very well intentioned message and it clearly connected with a lot of people.. it wasn’t for me and I say this as someone who has autisim. As someone who has worn down people’s patince and been starred at by a freak for something I was way too young to properly deal with.  I’ve been in this Kid’s shoes. 

And that’s the problem: The metaphor dosen’t really work for me. While auitism CAN have some benifits and I wouldn’t be any other way i’d be lying if I said it was easy having trouble commuincating, constnatly misreading people, constnatly worrying if someone’s going to like you, and hyperfocusing on a problem instead of being able to set it and forget it for a bit to my own detriment. There’s other problems and not ALL of my issues come from anxiety disorder: I also have anxiety and depression. They just bleed badly INTO said autisim sometimes, as it’s hard to effectively combat anxiety sometimes when your mind won’t let you. 

What i’m saying is... there aren’t any FAULTS in his powers. See i’m a fan of x-men, so I can only see this boy as a mutant, and yes I know they usually manfifest at puberty but there have been exceptions so don’t at me.. and one of them who has no real downsides other than the unfair stigma of being a mutant. He’s more like storm, who can control the elements and whose power only enhances her life nad lesss like say Rogue, who looks normal.. but can’t touch anyone without knocking them out at best or horribly abosrbing them into her head at worst. There’s no downside other than the fact people judge him and his dad is a dick about it.  And the dad part is hard because I get what Rubio is going for: parents make mistakes, parents mess up and their only human even if they should embrace their kids anyway. That’s a good message and one I support.. I just think Rubio was way TOO hard on himself and thus made his stand in into an unlikeable asshole, one whose more concerned with how everyone ELSE thinks and does the horribly abusive action of basically tying his son’s wings down so he can’t fly. He mans well, it’s so his son dosen’t float off.. but instead of finding a way to help him and work with him on it.. he just stuffs rocks in his back and forces the kid to be miserable so other people can be happy. It just goes way too far in the other direction to work. As I said I think it’s the guy being too hard on himself, manifesting his worst moments with his kids and his biggest regrets and making himself into a very hard to like character because he has trouble forgviing himself for how he acted. So I want to say if you ever read this bobby while I wasn’t hte biggest fan of your film.. I do wholly support you and your son.. and the fact you made an entire FILM just to show your sturggle and show people there not alone was a beautiful act. You are not a bad person , we all make mistakes and we’re all just human. You are a good man Bobby Rubio. I may of not liked your metaphor... but your message is beautiful. 

Wind: Immigration by Way of Rocket Science

Thankfully moving on.. this one is tied with Kitbull for my faviorite. It has a truly intriguing premise, a great metaphor, stunning animation, and is just really moving, gripping and fun to watch. This one was by Edwin Chang, and as is usualy by now, it was built on personal experince.. but not his. It was built on the fact his father was an immigrant who had to leave his mother, Chang’s grandmother, behind to a better life. She rejoined them eventually but it left an impact on his father and thus serves as the core of this story. And honestly knowing that only STRENGTHENS an already impresssive sci fi short.  It’s the story of a boy, apparently named Ellis so i’ll use that, and his grandmother who live in a bizzare, hauntingly beautifuly stygian sinkhole that has floating rocks and debris. The two spend their day farming potatoes and grabbing whatever they can to hopefully make their way out. But it becomes clear to young Ellis after they find a plane his grandmother wants HIM to go alone and escape and is willing to sacrifice herself.. and ends up having to trick the boy into thinking sh’es going along in order to get him to do what he needs to surivive and thrive. It’s a truly gut wrenching story as even when she seems to have found a way for them both to leave.. it’s very clear she’s simply training him with all the welding tools and what not so he has skills to make it out there on his own in the unknown. So he can live without her.. but more importantly.. so he CAN LIVE. Away from the darkness, not having to scrape and to surivive and hopefully find something better out there. While the old parental figure sacrifciing thsmelves so the youngun can start hteir journey isn’t new.. it’s the unique, beautiful and haunting setting and the emotoin, conveyed only through the utterly beautiful animation that make this story feel fresh, along with it’s great metaphor. This short is just haunting, beauitful and really damn sad, and I only dont’ have all that much to say because it’s all in the visuals. The only thing I have left is like all of these really, watch it. But especailly this one. 

Loop: Enough Said

This is part of the reason I didn’t like Float all that much. Loop is just.. way better at conveying the experinces of having auitism. While Renee is a more severe case than me I can relate to what kicks off the film: Renee, usually paired with an adult at the camp she at, is forcibley paired with a chatty boy named Marcus. While Marcus is eager to go home and has no idea how to interact with the two the two genuinely bond, with Marcus slowly getting into Renee’s world. The key scene for this and the one that clinches the film is Renee waving her hands over the reeeds in the water, throughly enjoying it with marcus not getting it.. till he tries himself. Director Erica Milsom, whose worked with autistic children and picked this medium entriely because i’ts perfect for a non verbal character and is one that can tackle heavy issues like this in a way to help people understan, really wanted to counter most depections of severe autisim, paticuarlly sensory issues. While we see the good in them instead of JUST her freaking out or being overwhelemed: how her sounds and the things she feels truly relax her and how she really DOES enjoy nature and is perfectly at home there. It’s just a beautiful way to show this disablility is not ALL bad, as many works tend to focus soley on the drawbacks. While I had my issues with Float part of it was it had too much good.. but Loop is superior at this simply because it shows both with unflinching honesty: The beauty of something that calms and relaxes your brain or a touch or sensation that just FEEELS really good, things that while again i’m not on the same level as Renee.. I can still fully relate to.  But what puts it over float besides not having a messy metaphor is it DOES show the issues that come with it.. but does so WELL and with nuance. It shows how isolating autisim can be, especially for someone like Renee who can’t talk, how people are sometimes freaked out by you and don’t know how to interact with you and how adults can MEAN WELL, and the counsler setting them off was a good idea in the end... but can also be misguided and not fully know how to handle you without overwhelming you. It shows just how bad a panic attack can be, how you can just.. shut down and drive away. It was easily the sequence that hit the hartest and resonated the most as I’ve had those, and i’ve just shut down with no one able to reach me.. and it makes it all the more touching as Marcus eventually realizes how to handle things, and gives her space despite the setting son and the peril of being stranded.. because he realizes she needs it and offers to simply be there when she’s ready. It’s a touching, wonderful gesture, capped by him giving her a reed.. and the two heading home finally udnerstanding one another.This one is very close to wind in my heart and I think I found even more love for it writing this review and realizing just how much it hit me. And that ain’t bad. 

Out: Be Proud of Who You Are.. with the help of a gay cosmic space cat 

Speaking of hitting close to home and really resonating with me, we have Pixar’s first short with a gay main character, with his sexuality being the center of this. And as a bi person who had struggle accepting his sexuality let alone telling anyone, even when you know someoen will likely accept you.. this naturally hit hard. I took some time to realize I was bi, and when I did I was terrified of telling my mom, despite her being loving, supportive and just wonderful, same with my brother. Both fully accepted me as I figured and had no issue with it, esepcially sine my romantic history is nearly non existant anyways, but I related to our hero Greg’s fears of coming out to his parents despite them being utterly wonderful, well meaning people. It’s hard to come out, it’s hard to admit that about yourself, and it’s hard knowing you may not be accepted or things may change. I had an even harder time coming out to my dad, who I fully expected being a trump supporter and having said “if gay marriage is leagal I should be able to marry my cat”, to not support me and to loose him.. and was proud and suprised when nope, he was utterly supportive and happy for me.. if a bit awkward with the “be careful with sex” advice.. to someone whose had none and may never will due to being awkward as shit. But he meant well and the point is I really related to this, and it’s easily one of the best coming out stories of this kind, tied handily with Schitt’s Creek’s episode about Patrick coming out to his parents that dealt with the same theme.  And naturally given the nature of these shorts it was a story close to Stephen Clay Hunter’s heart, as he group up a gay nerd in the 80′s a time when homophobia was even worse and representation was near non-existent. So when given the shot he wanted to make something for a young him, something they can look at and point to and tha’ts me. And the behind the scenes short for this one sold just how... big this felt for him. To draw two men in love and embrcing, to see guys mo capping that. To see someone LIKE him on screen. It shows just how important representation is and how dumb it is it took 20 goddamn years at pixar for them to get gay. 

The short itsel is delightful as we open with a gay space cat and dog appearing in a rainbow. The Cat and Dog are watching Greg, a nice young man whose moving out of his small town with his boyfriend Manuel.. only to panic when his parents who he hasn’t come out to show up to help move and try and hide the one photo he has of them. And despite Manuel seeing it as a very easy thing to do to come out.. it’s not for Greg. He knows it’s hard and a scene of him practicing shows the poor guy breaking down at the thought of telling them despite getting every indicatio their nice people.  It’s then the whole Space Cat thing comes in as the cat enchanted Greg’s dog’s collar, so when greg puts it on as  a jest, it’s a body swap! So naturally we get tons of REALLY well animated shenanigans as Greg has to get his body back. Seriously the animation here is gorgeous with director Hunter choosing the painted on , impercet style to give it a storybook feel which fits the story perfectly.. seriously if Disney hasn’t made a story book of this do so.. and if they won’t someone on etsy do it because Etsy is apparently where the merch companies should be making happens.

The point is it’s fun, furious and leads to some great gags.. and then we get the emotional punch to the godnand as Greg bites his mom’s hand in order to prevent her finding a photo of him and his boyfriend. He instnatly regrets it, and breaking the photo in the process and goes to comfort her.. and we get easily the most emotinal, most beautiful part of it as Greg finds out his mom is hurt as she can clearly tell he’s keeping her at arms length and dosen’t want to loose him.. and she’s known all along he was gay.. just like the Schitts Creek example it’s clear she’s hurt a bit her son is scared to tell her but just wants him to be happy. So with a brilliant use of a squeaky toy greg switches back.. and comes out, with his dad warmly hugging miguel when he introduces himn and the space dog crying. Just a beautiful, charming, fun, and gorgeously animated short with some badly needed representation.

Also... one last note. This isn’t related to the short.. but Disney, who once again proves they can’t be progressive without stabbing themselves in the foot and no I will not stop giving out about this. This time’s especailly bad as while Out was heavily promoted.. the descripton DOSEN’T mention it having Pixar’s first gay lead and goes out of it’s way to hide Greg being gay despite the fact the short dosen’t and his being in the closet is the whole conflict of the short. And the not mnentiong the first gay lead thing is noticable because Loop DID rightly point out it was their first non verbal proganist. You can’t.. brag about being progressive about one thing and then try to hide your being progressive about another you idiots. Plus the “pleasing the bible belt” ship has sailed and left port. Ducktales is gay as hell with Penny being gay, even if Disney won’t let her just come out and say it, the crew still had her say it as much as they could, Violet’s dad’s being gay, Della being bi and Webby and Lena being as close to a couple you can get without disney screaming at them no. Andi Mack is fully avaliable on D+ as well.. well okay not fully because the dad turned out to be a pedophile, but still a series with a fully gay character is out there. And finally Owl House got TONS of press for having a bi progatanist and having her love intrest be a girl. Even if Dana Terrance had to FIGHT for that, and rightly so good on her, the point is you have queer characters already. The groups that hate you for that aren’t going to magically stop hating you because you hide the fact a short anyone can see from minute one is very , beautifully gay, I mean it starts with a very swishy space cat emerging from a rainbow atop a pink dog. COME ON. I only have a few words left for disney..

Okay whew, one more and we’re out of here. 

Burrow: It’s Okay to Ask for Help and To Bang a Willing Salamander This was the first one I watched today. In hindsight had I properly researched the shorts and realized how heavy they were I probably would’ve saved this one for later to help balance out the deep feels of some of these. While Burrow is VERY VERY good, as all these shorts have been even Float, it’s subject matter is a lot lighter. I mean so far we’ve had stories about toxic masculinity, animal abuse, issues accepting your child is diffrent, sacrficing yourself so your loved one can have a better life, autisim and coming out of the closet. Even Smash and Grab which is light and breezy.. still has a disney death, and is still about a heroic rush to freedom from slavery whenyou think about it. This one.. is about an insecure bunny whose afraid to ask for help and ends up learning to get it while ending up plumiting through a bunch of comedic set pieces. It’s basically if Winnie the Pooh and Bugs Bunny had a baby comedy wise, it has the warm feeling of pooh art wise, a storybook quality tha’ts utterly adoring.. but director Madeline Sharafan specifccally wanted the animators to take after chuck jones, using lots of great expressions and reactions. It has a real classic theatrical screwball comedy vibe and given The Looney Tunes, Droopy, and Tom and Jerry mean the world to me and i’m glad nto reocnnect with 2/3 thanks to HBO Max.. I fucking loved it. 

Burrow is still a personal story and is based on Sharifan’s experinces having trouble colaberating, wanting something to be fully baked before showing it off, something I agian relate to. She often hid from the others and refused to show her work until it was done while everyone else was happy to help. And as the previously used to slam disney hard with something they own Hickman Era of X-men has shown.. colaboration is just better and more freeing. By having friends and colleuge s to bounce off of you refine ideas, see how people react to them and grow a bit and that’s what the shorts about. 

The plot is easily the simpliest of these: A young bunny wants to build her dream burrow but gets self concious when she runs into a friendly mole and rat living next door to where she wants to build and keeps digging to find both privacy and her own place.. and instead ends up digging into various shenangians and other burrows from frogs, to hedgehogs to most memorably some Salmanders taking a sauna.. and in the best and most ‘how the fuck did they get away with this bit of it”, one of the salamanders ends up .. gladly removing his town and being liike “You wanna do this? I mean I got an hour free” And i’m just saying while now wasn’t the time and the offer was a little awkward i’d go for it if I was her. I mean at least ask him out for coffee later. He seems nice enough if low on boundries. Then ride him until the morning light girl, ride it. She also finds the Demon Bear from New Mutants at one point.. so that’s where he retried to after danny kicked his ass again. Neat. 

But eventually our heroione digs herself too deep and ends up hitting water before finding a 

Who sees her crumpled plans and then does the stygian call of the badger to call all the other animals to help and after they escape the flood, the bunny finally realizes their good people and lets them see the plans. So we end on our heroine and her new friends and possible salamander lover helping her settle in as she finallyg ets the home she wanted, complete with disco. I mean every home should have a disco. If I didn’t have a ceeling fan i’d have a disco ball.. and I still want one just to set somewhere or hang away from the fan . Let me dream dammit. Overally a fun, hilarious, mad dash short with a good message and a good note to go out on.

Final Thoughts: Overall.. the Sparkshorts program is fucking spectacular, a great way to let some of Pixar’s staff get into the directors chair and really shine, and a way to tackle issues that they may not be able to get greenlit into a full film. Lushily animated, well produced, Pixar has announced MORE are coming and I cannot wait. Thank you kev for comissioning this, and thank you all for reading. If your new and liked this review, follow this blog as I talk disney all the time: when they come back i’ll be doing regular coverage of Amphibia, Ducktales and the Owl House as new episodes come out every week, and i’m currently doing a retropsective on the three cablleros kev also paid for, with the finale of it, an episode by episode look at the legend of the three cablleros, starting this week. I’m also covering LIfe and times of scrooge mcduck (though infrequently for a bit), and finishing up a look at darkwing duck’s just us justice ducks, started with looks at all the players involved and finshing next week with the episode itself.  So if any of that sounds good to you, check out the archives, but goodbye, goodbye, goodbye for now.