#i used to collect coins when i was a kid

[noahselack]

3am shitpost where the collector just collects coins

[skeletalheartattack]

is there anything you collect?

kinda, yeah! basically about maybe... 8 years ago? my grandfather gave me these two books for collecting pennies for every year.

i don't really go out of my way to look for them, since it's two different pennies for each year, but im missing ones for 2013-2015, and missing both for 2021 and 2022. if i ever get some change, ill usually look to see their year and the letter.

[magnetothemagnificent]

The world is so hostile to tweens.....

Like we joke about how our schools growing up would ban the latest toy trends, but that reality genuinely horrific when you think about it. Like maybe 1% of the bans were based on safety, but the rest cited reasoning like

-"kids were bartering for collectibles" (kids learning about economics and product value)

-"kids were wearing them and the colors were too flashy" (kids experimenting with self expression and fashion)

-"kids were playing with them during lunch and recess instead of using our rusted safety hazard playground" (kids utilizing their free time to do what helps *them* unwind).

Play areas specifically geared towards children and especially towards teens are constantly being shut down. "Oh kids today are always on their phones!" Maybe because

-there are barely any arcades left and even less arcades that aren't adult-oriented,

-public pools and gyms are underfunded and shut down,

-"no loitering" laws prevent kids and teens from just hanging out,

-movie theatres only play the latest films and ticket prices are only rising,

-parks and playgrounds are either neglected or replaced with gear only directed at toddlers and unsuitable for anyone older

-genuine children's and young teen media is being phased out in favour of media directed only at very small children or older teens and adults.

-suburbs and even cities are becoming more and more hostile to pedestrians, it's just not safe for kids to walk to or ride their bikes to their friends' houses or other play destinations

Children's agency is hardly ever respected. Kids between the ages of 9-13 are either treated as babies or as full-grown adults, with no in-between. When they ask to be given more independence, they are either scoffed at or given more responsibilities than are reasonable for a child their age.

This is even evident in the fashion scene.

Clothing stores and brands like Justice and Gap are either closing or rebranding to either exclusively adult clothing or young children's clothes, with no middle ground for tweens. Tweens have to choose between clothes designed for adults that are too large and/or too mature for their age and bodies, or more clothes they feel are far too childish. For tween girls especially it's either a frilly pinafore dress with pigtails or a woman's size dress with cleavage. No wonder tween girls these days dress like they're older, it's because their other option is little girl clothes and they don't want to feel childish.

And then when tweens go to school, the books they want to read aren't available because they cover "mature" topics (read: oh no two people kissed and they weren't straight or oh no menstruation was mentioned or oh no a religion other than Christianity is depicted), so kids are left with books for way below their reading level. No wonder kids today are struggling with literacy, it's because they can't exercise and expand their reading skills with age-appropriate books. Readers need to be challenged with new words and concepts in order to grow in their skills, only letting tween read Dr. Seuss and nursery rhymes doesn't let them learn.

Discussions about substance use, reproduction, and sexuality aren't taught at an age-appropriate level in school or even by children's parents, so they either grow up ignorant and more vulnerable to abuse, or they seek out information elsewhere that is delivered in a less-than-age-appropriate manner. It shouldn't be a coin-toss between "I didn't know what sex was until I was 18 and in college" or "my first exposure to sex as a tween was through porn" or "I didn't know what sex was so I didn't know I was being sexually abused as a kid."

Tweenhood is already such a volatile and confusing time for kids, their bodies are changing and they're transitioning from elementary to middle to high school. It's hard enough for them in this stage, but it's made worse by how society devalues and fails them.

We talk about the disappearance of teenagehood, and maybe that's gonna happen in the future, but the erasure of tweenhood is happing in real time, and it's having and going to have major consequences for next generation's adults.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU (3)

PART 1, PART 2

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,7K

Warnings: Reader pretty much just replaces Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two weeks ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics, mention of a wound, brutality!!

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Previously…

"Wait-" Y/N grabs a hold of his free wrist.

"Can you get us some food? Please? We´re practically starving."

Coriolanus just nodded at her quietly, the space between the both of them growing as he pulled away from her. The girl suddenly feels empty without him standing next to her like a shield that´s been protecting her has been taken away.

The reporter - whose name seems to be Lucky Flickermann - now turned back to the cage ends his live report,

"The 10th annual Hunger Games are soon approaching, so come down to the Zoo and see the Tributes before it´s too late." he does a dramatic pause.

"And I mean, too late," he adds with a small smirk.

"Capitol news."

"I´m Lucretius.", he looks up to the sky before stretching out his hand and catching a coin.

"Lucky Flickermann." with that the live report ends.

Y/N´s words ring in Coriolanus´ ears for the next few hours, during the lecture and confrontation with Dr. Gaul, the second he reached the cafeteria, he put as much food as possible on his plate, filling it with various goods.

Multiple students chatter around him, but he´s not up for a debate about whose tribute will win, never the less just a simple conversation, the thought of it alone brings Coriolanus discomfort. So his eyes scatter across the filled room, and when he spots a small empty two-seat table he walks over to it and sits down.

As he takes a seat he waits for a second, the feeling of someone watching him never leaving since he collected a plate and filled it with a bunch of food, the view of it alone causing his stomach to erupt into quiet rumbling.

With a quick look around, checking if someone is watching him, he takes hold of the blue napkin and places it on his lap, his hands spring into action and he places a few cookies into the blue fabric.

"Trying to fatten that poor girl up, so you can finally start taking bets?" a voice right across from the small table pulls him out of his thoughts. Before him stands Sejanus, a look of anger displayed on his face, while his hands hold him up on the table.

Coriolanus stops in his tracks, Sejanus´ tone something he does not need right now.

"You think, they´ll give these kids a schap if we don´t give them a reason to do it." although it was meant as a question, the way Coriolanus´ tone changed throughout speaking made it seem like a simple statement.

"How do you think your Tribute will have a chance if he can´t eat." the mention of Marcus causes the look in Sejanus' eyes to soften, Coriolanus knew what to say in order to convince his… friend.

A short moment of silence washes over their conversation, Sejanus lets out a sigh before sitting down on the still-empty chair, his eyes not finding the blue eyes that bore into the side of his face.

"He was my classmate. Back in 2…" Sejanus says in a low voice.

In return, Coriolanus takes a look across the room.

"It's not your fault he's there-" Coriolanus speaks up, shaking his head a little.

"I know. I'm so blameless I'm choking on it. My father bought him for me you know, at the reaping… just so he can show me, that I could never go back to 2." Coriolanus stays quiet, as he watches the Brown haired boy tear up, guilt eating away at him.

"But being Capitol is gonna kill me," he adds, his head shaking slightly, his gaze empty.

"So do something about it." Coriolanus cuts in, his expression stern.

He just continues filling the napkin with a few slices of a sandwich, the look on his face challenging Sejanus to do the same.

"You're quite the Rebell." the brown-haired boy laughs out, before he whipes his nose, blinking once then twice in the hope of no tears falling.

"Oh, I am. I'm bad news." the blonde replies, a teasing tone to his words. All Sejanus can do is chuckle softly, before his own hands grab a soft napkin.

-

Both of them find themselves getting closer and closer to the 'zoo' where the Tributes are held against their will, displayed for everyone to inspect. From far away, the mentor of the girl from District 12 was able to make out the crowd that formed around the metal bars.

Coriolanus can't help but let his eyes wander, his blue orbs desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N, as he takes big strides away from Sejanus as both of them part for the purpose of finding their tribute.

"Marcus!" he heard in the distance, but the voice was blurred.

Coriolanus can't focus on the rest of the words that leave Sejanus' mouth, as his eyes linger on the metal bars that separate him from her. He finally spots her, his tense shoulders relaxing a tad bit. The left side of her body is pressed against Jessup's, while Y/N's hand lays on the side of his neck. Both of them sitting on a rock with their backs to the crowd.

Coriolanus can tell that her mouth is moving, yet he can't seem to grasp onto what she's whispering in the ear of the boy who sits next to her. The blonde can't help but clench his jaw at the scene unfolding before his eyes, as his hands wrap a notch tighter around the food-filled fabric.

"Y/N" he speaks up, finally trusting his voice enough to do so.

The H/C-haired girl's eyes catch her mentor's quiet whisper, her head snapping to the side facing him. The small simile that spreads across her face does not go unnoticed by Coriolanus, as she brushes off her clothes. With small, yet quick steps she finally closes the distance between them.

His hands twitch beside his body, the urge to feel her skin against his resurfacing, as their eye contact never fades.

"You remembered?"

"Hmm?" Coriolanus hums, his eyes not leaving her face, she throws him a questioning look at his speechless expression.

"Oh right, right. I got this for you." he quickly says, the weight of the food in his hands leaving the second he places the napkin in her hands, their fingers touching for a split second, sending a shiver down his back.

Y/N herself can't help but feel her face warm at the contact, but she hides her face a little as she looks down at the meal in her hands. Within seconds she unwraps the cookies and the sandwich slices.

"Thank you, this will help us a lot."

"Us?" the boy from the Capitol mutters under his breath, wondering why you would even think about sharing the food he just gave you.

"Common, Jessup, eat," Y/N says with a nod of her head, her hand offering him a piece of some expensive-looking dish.

"'m not hungry," he mutters under his breath, his eyes staring daggers in Coriolanus' direction.

"No I insist, you have to eat." she pushes the food into his hands, and he throws her a thankful smile alongside a nod, yet before he walks back to the rock they sat on, he throws Coriolanus another look.

The mentioned boy holds the stare, and as Jessup turns away, his eyes land on a small wound that rests right underneath his ear. His brows furrow in confusion.

"What happened to his neck?"

Y/N gulps, her eyes not finding his.

"Bat bite. First night on the train." she nods sadly, her mind going back to when it happened.

"He didn't sleep a wink on the journey, making sure to keep the bats off so I can get some rest…" The girl's words grow quieter, her eyes trailing to the left as they find a Capitol girl making fun of the girl from District 10.

Y/N frowns when she observes the 'mentor' taunt her own tribute, holding a water bottle in her direction only to withdraw it when she reaches out to grab it. Y/N clenches her jaw at the sight.

"I learned in twelve that hunger is a weapon."

"Your friend over there sure knows it…"

"She's not my friend she is.." he thinks for a second, "..Poison with perfect teeth."

The girl from District 12 lets out a laugh, yet it's not fully genuine, her eyes fall back onto the food in her palms, a sickening feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. Meanwhile, Coriolanus grabs a hold of the metal bar, as he leans forward looking down at her.

"Are you going to share everything that I give to you with Jessup?" he asks, his breath fanning along a strand of loose hair, their close proximity making it possible for him to whisper.

"Why?" the girl's eyes widened in confusion at his question.

"Think I can collect my strengths so I can strangle them in the arena? Coriolanus, I can not kill these people.." she hisses out, her words make her look almost helpless, and again the blonde feels the urge to reach out and grab her hand.

"But I might have a chance to help you," he replies quickly, his eyes somehow holding ambition.

"There is a possibility that I can make some suggestions to the game makers, I might even be able to let the audience send gifts into the arena. Food and water…" he mumbles assuringly, his head nodding along his words.

"Listen, the people can donate to you, so you have to convince them to like you, which they already do. You're the first to volunteer, ever, and for your sister too, that kind of stuff catches attention," he says enthusiastically.

"I don't want to talk about that, what I did there was no choice, I had to do that. Don't you understand?" she asks slightly taken back, her brows furring in bewilderment.

"Besides, I've seen the arena, there's nowhere to hide, what's the point in winning the audience over? The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch, and you say you want to help me… which is it?" she asks unsure, her eyes boring into his, as she rests her own hand on one of the cold metal bars, awaiting his response.

Coriolanus' mouth parts, yet no words escape, before his gaze lands on her hand, so close to his, and before he can stop himself his palm engulfs her smaller hand.

"Both," he states with confidence, as he gives her a firm nod, letting her know that he truly means it. Y/N breathes out in relief, as she nods back at him, the warmth of his calloused hands bringing her comfort. Yet, she wiggles her hand out from under his slightly tightening grasp, taking a sandwich and taking a bite, her stomach screaming at her to finish the whole meal.

As she continues to chew, she catches Coriolanus looking at the food in her grasp, when she catches his stare, he expeditiously averts his gaze, looking around as if she didn't just catch him ogling. Without a word, she takes one of the cookies and hands it to him through the bars.

"Oh, no thank you." he refuses to take the baked good from her.

"Saw you staring, just take it," she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

He hesitantly takes it from her, as the both of them lower to the ground in order to eat while sitting.

"Thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol," she asks, although it did not sound like a question, more like a fact that she simply stated. Her eyes are still on the sandwich in her grasp, while Coriolanus himself breaks the cookie in two, eating the first half of it in one bite.

He lets out a laugh at her statement, her words throwing him years back to the war.

"You know one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste. Just to stop the pain in my stomach." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust.

"Well, how was it?"

He thinks for a moment, a smile forming on his lips, "Pasty." he laughs out, and Y/N can't help but let a giggle slip out as well before she muffles it with another bite of the food. Coriolanus' eyes stay on her, his eyes glimmering in amusement.

But the small moment dies when the girl looks away, her head turning slightly as she looks over her shoulder, the blonde's eyes follow hers.

"Little Wovey… she's so sweet… wouldn't hurt a fly… she reminds me of my sister…" she says, her head turning away from the little girl that currently rests against her district partner who looks deep in thought. Y/N swallows thickly at the thought of her little sister, now all on her own at home, having to watch her only relative die in the games. The thought alone causes the corners of her eyes to burn, yet she won't allow herself to shed one tear, not one, she promised her.

"I'm sorry…" the blonde whispers, as his face holds concern and guilt, he sends her a small assuring smile in order to lighten her mood.

"You seem like a good man, Coriolanus," Y/N claims.

Coriolanus slightly shakes his head, his eyes everywhere but never meeting her own. It seems like he's about to say something, but Y/N interrupts him.

"It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances," she quickly adds, her eyes on the almost completely eaten sandwich, while she fidgets with her fingers.

"How about… we make a deal," he replies.

"A deal?" she asks, her eyes snapping back up to meet his blue ones.

"Yes. After all of this… I'll take you out on a date," he says with a serious tone. His hand reaches through the bars as it wraps around one of her wrists.

She laughs out at his 'deal', "Yeah, exactly, have a drink or two, very funny." she laughs again in disbelief while rolling her eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood, although that's pretty impossible.

"I'm serious."

"Have you seen these people? I don't stand a chance, I'll be dead within minutes in the arena, I never learned how to fight or hunt, my chances are practically zero." she huffs out, her free hand wrapping around his hand that is holding her other hand, attempting at pulling him off.

Yet his grip tightens, "I'm being serious like I said before, maybe I can change some rules, bend some even, I don't care, we'll go on that date," he says again.

Just as Y/N opens her mouth, a response at the tip of her tongue ready to be released, a scream erupts through the air.

Brandy, the tribute that had been taunted by her mentor, grabbed the bottle out of the glass, as she took hold of the mentor's collar pulling her closer with an angry yell. With a quick smash, she shatters the bottle into pieces and uses the remains as a weapon, forcefully stabbing it into the side of her neck. The already red-dressed girl is now covered in more red.

The screams alerted every individual around them, as other people screamed in horror at the brutality.

Y/N can't help but gasp in shock, just like Coriolanus she's back on her feet, her eyes trained on the girl on the ground gasping for air.

Coriolanus runs up right to the other mentor's side, using his hands to put pressure on the wound as a horrified expression spreads all over his features.

"It's okay. it's okay, I'll get help," he mutters out of breath, frantically looking out for someone who would provide what she needs.

"Somebody help us please!" after his plea, the sound of guns firing runs through the air, and with a thump, Brandy holds onto her stomach before hitting the ground, dead.

At the sound of shooting, Coriolanus hides his face underneath his arms, shielding himself from bullets that could hit him at any given moment. As he slowly raises back up, the horrified expression returns to his face, he watches the life drain from Arachne's face, her skin growing paler.

"Oh…no, no.." he rasps out, the events leave him speechless, and before he can register it, Peacekeepers roughly grab him by the arm and pull him up from the ground away from the lifeless body.

Taglist: (Crossed-out can’t be tagged)

@prettybliss | @unclecrunkle | @yourlocalwofreader | @ennycutie | @unamused-boss | @spatt777 | @xyzstar | @especiallythewomenandthechildren | @mysteris-things | @crackheadhours | @guacam011y | @clintssupremacy | @importantgalaxyrunaway | @zucchinimalfoy |

[anonymous-dentist]

Two Ways to Adjust the Egg Life System

So, since the Eggs ran away in September and lived for weeks free of tasks and lives, and after they survived Purgatory while doing zero tasks, and after the three newer eggs survived for seemingly their entire lives without tasks or lives, a lot of people- both fans and creators and egg admins- have been complaining about the Egg Life System and how bullshit it is in terms of both player experience and the island’s established lore. It’s an outdated system that isn’t fun for anybody involved, and it should be properly updated for the new year.

Eggs have been the QSMP’s lifeblood since when they were first introduced in April. They were initially an event then, but they soon developed into actual people with actual personalities that both the audience and the players all became ridiculously attached to.

Eggs are given to new players to give them someone to hang out with when they’re alone on the server, and they exist for that purpose for everybody else, too.

So, if that’s the case… why the fuck can they still permadie? When lore itself showed that they don’t need to do tasks, and when players like the Korean members or like Roier or Bad would be completely alone on the server without the eggs keeping them company, it really begs the question of whether or not it’s possible to still have the eggs at risk while not explicitly killing them.

And so I present a couple of ways to adapt the Egg System to the QSMP 2024 while still allowing the eggs to be put at risk and while still having consequences for risky behavior and while still keeping the cookie system in place because, really, that’s a decent way of doing the tasks.

1. Hospitalization

Post-Purgatory, it was revealed that there’s an Egg Hospital. And it really would make sense for the server’s hyper capitalist second season to keep the hospital, and to use it the American Way.

When an egg goes down and “dies”, the egg respawns like a player would. But the egg respawns in the Egg Hospital at Spawn, and the parents have to pay a hefty fee for their eggs’ health.

The server already makes everybody collect coins and go into debt, so why not apply that to the eggs?

The fee the parents would have to pay would be ridiculous, like maybe 10k coins. Any coins they get from bounties would go to that and not to their own pockets, but the egg would still be alive. Every time the egg dies, the fee would increase regardless of whether or not the parents paid it off the last time.

So an egg has infinite lives, but the eggs and their parents are still punished for deaths. It keeps the parents from being able to buy necessities like warps or things from the Spawn Shops.

Egg Tasks are completed in exchange for Cookie Coupons, which allow the purchase of one cookie per coupon free of any monetary charge. In an emergency, parents can add to their debt by buying cookies outright. This way, eggs still get to do tasks while the parents are paying their debt.

Is this system harsh? Yeah, but so are permadeaths. This system just switches the deaths out for American-style medical debt that will ruin the parents financially should they ‘allow’ their eggs to die.

2. Repossession

Since the start of QSMP2024, the bunny employees have been trying to buy the eggs from their parents. Why not adapt that?

If an egg dies under this system, the parents receive a Strike from the Federation. After two Strikes, the egg is taken from their parents by a bunny social worker to live with the Federation until the parents can prove they’re a “good parent.”

The parents do this by taking paid parenthood classes taught by the Federation that would cost maybe 500 coins per class (coming to a total cost of 3,500 coins.) After a week of classes, the parents get their kids back.

The classes would basically be a bunny worker showing up at the parent’s home and making them do egg tasks for the bunny instead, maybe for ten minutes per day, showing that the parents can still take care of their eggs and that they aren’t neglectful or anything.

Furthermore, before the parents get their eggs back, they have to build a room specifically for their eggs if they don’t have one built already, and that room must be inspected by the bunny social worker. Parents have to show that they have food prepared for the egg. They have to have a set of armor prepared for the egg, and a sword and pickax. They have to have at least one toy or egg cosmetic purchased and waiting for the egg in the egg’s new room.

Once all this is done, after a week, the eggs get to come back, and their Strikes are reset.

This isn’t too bad, but 3,500 coins is a lot of money for a lot of players, and having to do all these chores and not having their eggs around punishes both the players and the eggs the same way a permadeath would. It’s just that this doesn’t include the egg dying, it includes a new form of Egg Trauma.

-

If you have any other ideas of new systems, I’d be curious to hear them. And feel free to screenshot and share this post to Twitter if you want, that’s cool.

I just think there are ways to mess with the players and the audience without killing the eggs off, that’s all.

These systems I have proposed accommodate for server lag and general unpreparedness, such as not having good enough armor or going into a dungeon without backup.

[fastcardotmp3]

future!steddie; long haul trucker Eddie; firefighter Steve ~1k words

It makes sense to Eddie, an obvious out when his world's gone to shit and he has to get away, that his escape route from Indiana is the same job his uncle left to settle down there and raise a kid with nowhere else to go.

Driving long haul means there's no one looking that close at a face that made it to the national news during his week on the run. It means living on the move, never stopping long enough to get stuck anywhere.

It means freedom.

It means loneliness.

He calls Wayne twice a week, coins in pay phones at rest stops while he's waiting for his hair to dry post-public shower, and that's enough for him.

Wayne has always been enough for him, and it would be hurtful to suggest otherwise; it would be disrespectful to the life Wayne helped him build, keeps helping him build with all that faith that had him never doubting an innocence questioned by everyone else in that God-forsaken town.

Twice a week. It's the only phone number he knows by heart.

Twice a week for weeks and then months and then years, driving cross-country and back again, it's freedom. He keeps telling himself it's freedom, that it's good, that he doesn't need anything more than that.

But driving long haul means there's a lot of time for thinking.

It means a lot of time for collecting thoughts up together and creating new meaning entirely.

It means that by the time he's twenty-one and twenty-five and thirty that he has tape after tape after tape where he's collected those thoughts aloud in the rumbling loud silence of an overnight drive.

Thoughts like who would I be if I'd stuck around? and thoughts like will they understand that this time running saved my life? and thoughts like I miss them, am I allowed to miss them, am I allowed to love them without ever really knowing them?

It means that when he stops for all but the first time in ten years, coming home to Wayne to find that Forest Hills is home to a couple more familiar faces than he expected, there's space for his words. His endless, looping thoughts.

Steve's got his own trailer these days, brings in Wayne's mail for him on the mornings he comes home from the night shift at the fire station and stays for coffee.

Steve's there across the way when Eddie drives up in a new-used flatbed truck he'd bought with his final paycheck on the day he hung up his hat and decided he'd been gone long enough.

Steve's there in stories Wayne only begins telling now that Eddie is home, endless retellings of a brand-new man who became a friend during a time when the name Munson was still a dangerous thing to carry.

Steve's there when Eddie starts transcribing all his dictated notes into something resembling narrative and character and prose and Eddie doesn't know the guy who jumped headfirst into another dimension, hasn't spoken to him since that week that forced Eddie to flee in the first place, but maybe he doesn't need to have those years under his belt.

Maybe it doesn't matter if Eddie knows a nineteen-year-old Steve Harrington, because he knows the twenty-nine-year-old one starting a matter of hours after he comes crawling back home, knows this grown and steady one who looked after Wayne when Eddie had to leave.

This Steve isn't stuck despite still living in the town that tried to kill him. He doesn't seem lost or without purpose.

He lives a simple life, working at the Hawkins FD and feeding stray dogs with the bowls he leaves out beside his porch. Robin comes and goes, seemingly dating her way through the Midwest's entire sapphic population and sleeping on Steve's couch in between live-in girlfriends.

There are old friends on the phone at near constant intervals in Steve's home, and there's that phone being pressed to Eddie's ear without giving him the chance to be terrified about what Erica or Dustin or Max might say to the guy who hasn't allowed anyone but Wayne access to him for a decade, what he might say back after so many years without proper human socialization.

Eddie has been moving for so long, stayed moving through the bulk of his acceptance of everything that happened to him, but there's a different sort of quiet here than what he found on the road, stillness, amongst the casual chaos.

There's similarities to life on his rig, sure, a certain routine to the comings and goings, only Eddie isn't hiding anymore and he's not thumbing through the same staticky stations anymore and he's not lonely anymore.

He doesn't know how to sit still yet, not really, but he stays up all night handwriting poetry on paper he once spoke onto tape on the porch of his uncle's trailer and sometimes when Steve gets home after dark, he'll sit with him.

He'll eat his dinner still in uniform and listen to the scratch of Eddie's pen and Eddie doesn't know him, Steve Harrington, but he's getting to know his neighbor Steve.

Ten years down the line and he's becoming solid right there in front of Eddie's eyes, becoming real, becoming something that can't possibly fit onto the tapes filled with nonsense and insights alike.

"You're never what I think you're going to be," Eddie admits to him one morning over coffee before Wayne or Robin have risen, before the phone has begun to ring, before the world wakes up and brings Eddie's life along with it, ready or not.

Steve smiles at him, amused and curious and cocky in the way he responds, "you're exactly who Wayne said you are."

It's an admission all its own, that Steve has thought about Eddie, spoken about him, in the time they've spent apart, even if it was only because he'd dared to keep Wayne Munson's company.

It's still an admission though, that in his absence, in his loneliness out on the road, Eddie wasn't forgotten by the watercolor skies over Hawkins, Indiana.

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes in those very skies, "and what did Wayne say I'd be?"

Ten years down the line and suddenly it makes sense to Eddie.

It makes sense in the morning dew on the lawn; it makes sense in the too-strong Harrington-brewed coffee; it makes sense in the wheels of his truck on a road that does end, eventually, and it makes sense in the collected thoughts and feelings, fears and dreams that he had to go away to decipher.

The freedom was in leaving, sure, but this? The coming home to Wayne and this porch and the man who lives across the way?

"Stick around, Munson," Steve Harrington dares on a morning like any other, "and maybe I'll just tell you."

Well. As it turns out, this might be the thing that saves him.

[matan4il]

Hello hello, sending hugs as always!

I was hoping you maybe be able to give me some inspiration for a small series of food photos I'm assembling for Channukah! I'm doing an 8 part series celebrating the different groups within Judaism to 1. Be loudly and proudly Jewish at this current time, and 2. raise awareness for non-ashki Jews. In the UK it's super hard to find many non ashki peeps which makes it hard to chat to people about other classic Channukah foods, but I was wondering if you knew of any particularly good ones (that aren't latke or sufganiyot)? Would hugely appreciate any suggestions you have!!

Hi darling, sending you the biggest hugs right back! <3

Oooh, Hanukkah foods! I'm not gonna lie, some of my fave Jewish foods come from this holiday. With your permission, I'll give a small introduction, just for anyone reading, who might be unfamiliar with Hanukkah, and curious... and also talk about some of the lesser known Hanukkah food traditions among European Jews, too.

So during Hanukkah, we celebrate a miracle that happened with the oil at the Temple in Jerusalem. After the Jews defeated the occupying Greek forces that had desecrated our Temple, we wanted to light again the eternal flame of the Menorah (the Temple candelabra) with olive oil, but after the destruction caused by the Greek forces, there was only enough left for one day, and it would take 8 days to get more oil. The miracle is that somehow, that small amount of oil lasted for the whole 8 days, meaning the light didn't go out again. To remember this miracle, we eat food fried in oil! Being Jewish is so good for your health. XD

In shops and bakeries around Israel, there are already sufganiot being sold. They are YUMMY, and while some people call them "the Jewish donuts," I can say that after having eaten American donuts, I def think sufganiot are way yummier (in part 'coz they're not as "heavy" because the dough it's made of is fluffier? More... airy? Not sure how to say it, but I hope you get the idea). Also, you don't get robbed, because someone made a hole in the middle of the sufgania, taking out nearly half of it. The traditional type has strawberry jam injected inside, and sugar powder on top, but in Israel there are some crazy fancy kinds, and every year they seem to become more extravagant.

Traditional sufganiot (you can see a bit of the jam on top, but half the fun is biting and getting to the "treasure" of lots of jam at the center of the sufgania):

Fancy sufganiot:

Then there's the latkes, or as they're called in Hebrew, levivot. They're like savoury pancakes made out of potatoes, and obviously they're fried in oil.

In many Jewish communities, there was a custom of giving kids special pocket money for Hanukkah. In Israel, this "money" is given in the form of chocolate "coins." I freaking loved this as a kid! It was fun unwrapping the "coins," eating the chocolate, and then (assuming I was careful when peeling them off), make a collection of the different "coins," or just play with the wrap.

Greek Jews used to make a bread from potatoes and yogurt:

Georgian Jews made levivot out of corn flour (sometimes filled with cheese), or out of potatoes AND nuts, giving it the shape of a big omelette. Here's the corn flour version:

Czech Jews had a custom saying goose is the best meat, so for Hanukkah, they often ate goose related dishes. For example, they would make levivot from potatoes, eggs, sugar, lemon and goose fat.

French and Swiss Jews would make levivot out of apples.

The Jews of Iraq, Algeria and Buchara (which is in Uzbekistan) used to put the Hanukkah pocket money for the kids inside honey cakes. In Algeria and Buchara they also sometimes made levivot with meat added inside.

The Jews of Romania and Austria used to light potato Hanukkah candles! This was likely because they were so poor. Still, a pretty cool thing, when you can light your candle, and eat it (or at least a part of it), too.

In northern Africa, Jews used to make a type of cookie called Debla (sometimes nicknamed "dough roses"), which originated in Libya. They're usually eaten with a sweet syrup. It's more of a Purim dish (the equivalent of Hamantaschen), but was sometimes prepared for Hanukkah as well. Traditional Debla:

And a slightly "fancier" Israeli version:

Okay, maybe my fave Hanukkah dish! It's called sfinge (the 'ge' is pronounced like in "sponge"), and it's basically the Moroccan sufgania, which later became popular among Tunisia and Libya Jews, too. It can be round with a hole in the middle, it can be in the shape of a ball, while Libyan Jews make it flat. It's eaten with either honey or sugar powder, but again, in Israel fancier versions developed... I'm not a great cook, so IDK to explain why, but it's even fluffier than the sufgania, and that's why it's my personal fave.

Traditional sfinge with honey:

With sugar powder:

Israelis always having to make everything fancier:

They even made a savoury version of flat sfinge...

I hope this helps! Have a wonderful day, darling! xoxox

[elden-hicks]

A note for the fellow strugglers in TS1

Hey, it's Seth! I know how frustrating TS1 can be (considering it's age and being the first game in the franchise), so I am here to introduce a list of personal must have mods and programs, which I always use whenever I re-install the game to make it more user-friendly. The list itself is quite short, actually, since it only consists of my personal gameplay choice mods. So there's no building objects, deco, skins and heads there.

MODS AND CC

This calendar will report the day of the month to your sims and -- and this is amazing -- even introduce a concept of days off. Sims should have about every 6th and 7th day off. - THE ABSOLUTE MUST HAVE. It's in the painting section and costs 15 simoleons. Works a bit wonky with children, but otherwise a very useful mod to have.

Call work/give interview job phone plugins to give your sim a day off. - I use those mostly when sims have to take care of the baby.

A family mod by Gothi_family_4ever. - another must have in my collection, introduces the familial relationships in game! No more inappropriate relationships between relatives. It's a 0 simoleon painting, which you can delete once you've done.

A hacked frigde mod by the same author. - allows your sims to put their food into the refrigirator, call the household members for the meal, and requires the usage of products (like meat and in-game vegetables) in order to cook a dish instead of insta-paying. You kinda have to build a grocery shop for your sims, so they could buy the required products, I prefer to install the stalls into the pre-existing farm shop in Old Town area. P.S DON'T FORGET TO READ THE INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE INSTALLING BEFORE DRAGGING ANY FILE. As much as I love this mod, I don't, for example, use their cereal add-on.

The Elixir ExpressiBuy Computer. - a computer that allows you to buy any in-game buyable product (like vacation gifts, grocery, tonics, etc etc) in stock. They won't magically appear overnight but would be brought by a special courier npc. It also allows your sim to research logic, creativity, culinary and mechanical skills. I'd also recommend diving further into their site, since they have a lot of cool and unique gameplay content as well!

MagiCo's Bookshelf of Dimensional Storage - the official Maxis item, that was in the 'Get Cool Stuff' section. Allows your sims to keep their magic coins and ingrediends in special bookshelf storage, I mostly use it so the kids could get the ingredients for their spells from the adults. It is in the Magic section, btw

The Magic Mirror - the only outright cheat object that I have in my possesion. This mirror refreshes your sims needs, builds skills, friends, stardom, etc. Saves headaches when you are not in the mood to fullfill your sims' mood, ha-ha.

PROGRAMS

SimEnchancer 3D - basically a program that allows you to change the basic sim's attributes, including their heads and bodytypes. If you are familiar with TS2's SimPE, you'd have the idea how it works. NOTE: if you have to run your TS1 game as an administrator, you'd have to open it up in the same vein as well. And don't forget to backup your UserData files when you are working with it, just in case!

The Sims Creator - the official Maxis program for players to create some basic skins content. The program is only suitable to work with head and skins textures and not the meshes! Likewise, if you have to open the game as an administrator, you'd have to do the same with that program.

NEIGHBORHOODS

This section for the fellow premade enjoyers out there, who mostly played TS2 before and decided to give the local premades a chance as well

Here you can download the original UserData 1 and 2 if you want to reset your neigborhoods as they were if you had already played the neighborhood before and want to start anew. The Sims Wiki also gives you an instruction for how to do so.

And here you can download the additional Maxis families like The Hatfield, The Maximus, The Mashuga, The Snooty, The Jones and that weird agent White House familes. For some reasons, some of them refused to function in my game, so I had to install the empty houses and recreate them by hand, using the SimEnchancer and Wikia to give them appropriate skills and careers.

OTHER

Sims 1 Alternative UI - refreshes your game by a margin. I really recomend this one!

Well, that's basically it! I hope, my list would help you as well!

[henrioo]

✦ ── ANYTHING FOR YOU: SHANKS

Part one — Parte two

Child! Shanks x Child! Reader ( x platonic! Edward Newgate)

Synopsis: "A confusing encounter with a red-haired child ends up changing his day completely."

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,6k

Notes: Pronouns should be neutral but because of automatic translation they are masculine, I'm sorry, it was written with a neutral reader in mind. Forgive the bad English too, Google is not one of the best

Revision: @waitingmydemons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Today would definitely be your day! After weeks of trying to convince your brothers and especially your father, you had managed to get permission to take a tour all alone around the next island the ship stopped. It might seem silly, but living surrounded by men who saw danger in everything made your freedom being compared to one of a bird in a cage. Of course, you were more than grateful for all the effort they put into protecting you, but sometimes you just wanted to run around and play with other kids instead of being followed by famous pirates who scared anyone who came near.

That's why you couldn't hold back the anxiety of finally being able to live a little adventure completely alone! You've prepared very well, choosing fresh clothes that won't get in the way of playing or running, took a purse with a generous amount of money that you collected according to the days and choose the best and most resistant shoes! Everything was perfect, you couldn't even swallow your food during lunch. You were so busy, as soon as the meal was over, you said goodbye to everyone and ran towards the port, excited to explore the place.

Even if walking around and spending money on silly things wasn't exactly the most fun thing in the world, just being able to experience all those new things by yourself and maybe even make a few friends was enough to get you excited. There weren't many young people in Whitebeard's crew, you ended up being the only child and the youngest member which left you a bit alone. Of course no one refused to play with you, Marco and Thatch would spend hours distracting you if that made you happy, the point was that they were adults and eventually needed to take care of their responsibilities, leaving you alone.

Your plan was to buy some candy and maybe find some kids your age to play with, you couldn't wait to get some attention from people who would also like to play. You walked carefree through the big city market, there were countless merchants, mothers, workers, all walking around in their own worlds and duties. You'd eventually stop and look at the fruit, jewelry, or anything else that looked like fun, but you weren't focused on shopping. You were humming absently around, not really caring about your surroundings when you started to hear footsteps approaching.

When you turned around to try to figure out what was going on it was too late, a person collided directly with you but before he could knock you to the ground, he pulled you by the arm away from the main road. You were dragged into an alley and soon a hand covered your mouth, when you regained your senses you could hear more and more footsteps approaching, a crowd running! You frowned in confusion as you listened to what people were saying. "Are you sure you lost them?" You tried to peek down the alley and you could guess they were sailors by their blue and white outfit. "Shit, those little brats! I can't believe they robbed us…" they argued among themselves "Let's keep looking, they can't have gone far".

So when the men walked away you decided to pay attention to the situation you were in. You looked to see who your captors were and came across two… children? The boy holding you had blue hair and a huge red nose, he was holding your mouth while his face had a terrified expression. Next to him was a boy with red hair and a nice hat, he was carrying what looked like a bag of coins and he also looked extremely nervous about being chased. Whoever they were, you knew they'd robbed the sailors, but that didn't mean they weren't a risk to you.

When you were sure the sailors were gone you used all your strength to step on the boy's foot and then bite his hand. You might be small but you weren't harmless, growing up with powerful pirates had taught you a trick or two.

"Ouch! You bit me!" The boy screamed as he held his own hand.

The redhead finally seemed to notice that they'd dragged someone else into the mess and looked at you confused.

"You kidnapped me!" You countered by crossing your arms.

"You kidnapped them?!" The redhead exclaimed looking at his friend in shock.

"They were in the way!" The other tried to defend himself "And you bit me! I was about to let you go!" He was still angry but you didn't care.

"Think before you kidnap me! You're lucky I only bit you, if I told my brothers they would do a lot worse!" You exclaimed proudly of your family.

"Sure, like I'm going to believe a snotty brat" the blue haired one rolled his eyes.

"You called me what?!" You exclaimed with fury as your cheeks burned.

"Snotty brat" he said again with a smirk, looking satisfied with having turned the tables.

The problem was that the boy had underestimated you, one thing you definitely lacked was patience. You learned very early that you shouldn't tolerate offenses against yourself or your family, so you let anger win that fight. You quickly punched the blue-haired boy in the middle of the face, the one who fell on his butt with a scream.

"Buggy!" The red-haired friend screamed and went to help him.

"I'm not snotty!" You said stomping your foot on the floor.

The red-haired boy looked between you and the companion, his gaze showing shock and… fascination? He looked at you like you were a bedtime story hero, someone amazing and you couldn't understand. Shouldn't he be angry? You had just hit his colleague and he seemed fascinated by it?

"Wow…" he exclaimed looking you up and down.

"Humpf! Idiot" you said without patience and then you turned to leave the alley "You're lucky I won't tell my brothers, Marco would finish you off" you said and then left the place ignoring the red haired boy who kept calling you .

You were nervous and frustrated that visit to the city had not gone as you planned, so you decided to go back to the ship earlier. Luckily you would stay a few days in that place, there would be other opportunities to explore and meet kind and fun children, no more children who irritated you. It wasn't long after returning to shore that the crew set up a small camp to store the new supplies while the ship was refueled. There, you found Marco fiddling with some papers and further away you could see his father giving orders to some other members.

You sat with a sulky face while eating a candy you bought in town, Marco looked at you curiously and approached with a characteristic smile.

"What's wrong birdie-yoi?" He smiled and sat down next to you.

"I… I met some annoying kids" you decided it was better to omit what had happened, as much as you wanted revenge, you understood that the confusion had been a misunderstanding and you didn't want your siblings worrying about something so silly.

"Wasn't that fun?" He nodded when he saw you deny it. "Don't worry, you can still meet other kids in the next few days" he smiled trying to calm you down "And if nobody wants to play with you, let's get Visa and Jozu and have a tea party, how about that?" He offered, knowing you were always happiest spending time with your brothers.

"Promise?" You looked at him sullenly.

"On my honor" he smiled as he saw you clearly getting more excited about the idea.

After a little chat, Marco had to get back to work and you decided not to bother him anymore. So to distract yourself until dinner time you decided to walk along the nearby beach and look for some shells to collect, you were still thinking about the boys from before, especially the redhead. He was looking at you with so much emotion that you couldn't help but feel your stomach churning, no one had ever looked at you like that… It was so weird and it made you so confused, what was that? Some noises in the nearby forest caught your attention, being curious that you were, so it didn't take long to approach and look for who was there.

"It 's you!" You said in recognition of seeing the red hair from before.

"Shhhh!" He asked for silence and you covered your mouth, looking around for any threat "Are your brothers here?" he asked quietly.

"They're over there…" you pointed into the distance and he seemed to agree silently "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you again" he admitted looking at the floor, his cheeks were slightly pink and you felt your body getting warm.

"Why?" You asked timidly.

"Because your punch was super cool!" His eyes sparkled "You hit Buggy right on!"

"Is he not your friend?" You asked confused.

"He is… But you were just defending yourself! He shouldn't have called you snotty… You're not snotty, you're too cute to be!" He confidently admitted.

"Do you think I'm cute?" Your cheeks were now on fire.

"I do…" he smiled shyly "I'm Shanks, what's your name?" He approached.

"(Y/n)" you smiled.

"Cool, I didn't know Whitebeard had someone in the crew with my age"

"How do you know I’m in the Whitebeard’s crew?”

"You said you had a brother named Marco, I know him! And my captain said Whitebeard was in town, so that had to be it," he said with pride in his little investigation.

"Your captain? Are you a pirate too?" You were curious now.

"Yes! I'm from the Roger Pirates!" he exclaimed with pride.

That's when your face became sad... You had heard about this crew countless times, all your life you grew up hearing that they were your father's main enemies and that you could not, under any circumstances, approach them.

"I shouldn't be talking to you!" You finally realized and tried to run, but Shanks was quick and grabbed you.

"Wait! Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He begged as he held her wrist gently but firmly.

"How can I trust you? You kidnapped me this morning! And we are sworn enemies!" You snorted.

"But I don't want to be your enemy…"

"You don't?" You let your emotions get the best of you.

"No… I… I want to be your boyfriend!" He declared with fire in his eyes.

"Boyfriend!?" You stuttered in shock, your face was hot and probably red, your eyes were wide in shock.

"Yes! You're super strong and cute!" He said without a care and then let go of your hand "Unless you didn't like me…"

"No! I did like you…!" You admitted with embarrassment "But… I never had a boyfriend… What do they do?"

"They… They" he stammered in embarrassment "They hold hands… Kiss on the cheek and go on dates!" He said with embarrassment.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with as much embarrassment as he was. You thought about holding Shanks hands and your stomach started to turn, it would also be really cool to be able to play with him.

"It's cool, isn't it? We can be sweethearts!" He tried to convince you.

"(Y/n)?! Where are you? It's getting dark and we should go back to the ship" You heard your father's voice approaching.

"Shanks?! Where are you?!" Another unknown voice came from the middle of the forest.

Before you could run away the fearsome encounter took place, behind you was your father and behind Shanks must have been the much talked about Roger, his captain. You both widened your eyes in terror when you realized what was happening, but you didn't dare open your mouth to try to explain.

"Roger"

"Newgate"

"Can you explain why your brat is talking to my child?" He quickly put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back.

"Good question, what's up Shanks? Did you come here to talk to the old man?" The captain chuckled, he didn't seem to be mad at Shanks at all.

"I… Well…" the boy mumbled incoherently with embarrassment.

"Did he do something to you?" Your father asked, looking at you calmly, he didn't seem mad at you at all, which calmed you down a bit.

"No…" you mumbled shyly and grabbed his leg.

"Hm, maybe they just met and had a chat" Roger theorized "Or are they secretly flirting, huh Shanks? You naughty, came for the riskiest one" the man teased.

"Don't talk nonsense Roger, (y/n) can't date you, brat" His father said as if that was nonsense.

"I can't?" You asked with some sadness in your voice.

"They can’t?" It was Shanks's turn to look sadly at his captain.

The two men stared at each other in shock, they seemed to slowly understand what was going on between the two of you.

"Don't tell me… Did you like this piece of junk?" your father asked in shock and nervousness.

"Hey! No need to offend other people's children!" Roger defended "Shanks isn't that bad… He's just… He" the man shrugged.

"Like you understand" Edward rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we were young once!" Roger laughed "Let the kids date and have some fun, nothing bad will come of it"

"No" Edward gave the final verdict, but when he felt you pulling his pants and making your huge lost puppy eyes with tears threatening to fall he started to rethink the idea "(y/n)..."

"Please?" You asked "I promise I'll help more often in the kitchen if you let me..." you tried to bargain, you liked Shanks, you didn't want to be banned from dating him, even if you didn't know exactly what boyfriends did.

"Heavens… Who knew having kids would be like this…" He sighed tiredly "You guys can date" Shanks smiled "With some conditions!"

"Conditions? That's not fair!" He huffed angrily.

"Calm down little one, he's the father, he has the right to decide that, you have to earn trust and permission" Roger said quickly, Shanks seemed more resigned.

"First you need to grow up a bit, I can step on you now and I won't let such a small and young brat date my child!" he said quickly.

"Uhum!" The redhead's eyes sparkled.

"Second, you need to be strong! I will not tolerate a weakling having my child as a partner, you need to be able to face me without fear to have their hand"

"Yes! I'm going to be really strong!" He smiled looking at you and you looked away shyly.

"And finally, when you have those two things, the most important one" Shanks listened attentively "You need their acceptance" your father put his hand on your head "If you have both requirements and my child still loves you then I won't be the one going to stop you" he chuckled.

You smiled happily as you looked at Shanks who also looked confident.

"You'll see old man! I'm going to marry them!" He proclaimed with pride.

Roger just laughed praising his apprentice while your father looked frustrated and stroked your hair. You smiled thinking about how cool it would be to have Shanks as your boyfriend, you really didn't see the time to be able to be with him.

Continue...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: I hope you enjoyed! There will be a part two showing what happened to them as adults, if you can leave what you think it will motivate me a lot because I'm new here! If you want to ask for something feel free! I'll make the best imagines I can, thanks for the support and see you soon

[cockslutpadalecki]

Come Around Sundown

Summary: What happens at Christmas is never just a one time thing, and when summer break rolls around, you find yourself repeating past mistakes. Or is it a mistake?

Characters: Tattooed!DBF!Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 2.3K.

Warnings: age gap relationship, use of pet name (little mouse), explicit sexual content, mention of previous sexual encounter (oral sex— fem receiving), reader is in her 20s, Steve being covered in tattoos, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), cream pie, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Inspired solely of the manip of Chris used above in the header which I promptly lost my shit at. It’s all thanks to @sweeterthanthis​ 💖 And thanks to @randomagnes0210​ for creating the best manip ever. Beta: @princessmisery666​ but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

“Hey Little Mouse,” a familiar voice teases from beside you, “almost didn’t see you sneakin’ around there.”

You flash a small smile at your dad’s best friend, Steve, hating how forced it feels pinching at your lips, hoping he can’t see the strain of it in your cheeks. Your gut twists, warming at the sound of the deep gravelled baritone. You’ve loved the nickname ever since he coined it for you, but right up until six months ago, it’s since evolved into a point of reluctant appetency when it comes hand in hand with the man who gave it meaning. 

A sweet, playful name that used to symbolise your meek and quiet nature. Now it represents something far more licentious, and you can tell by the way the epithet leaves his lips that he’s aroused by the association. 

The attractive woman standing alongside him gives you a clipped grin, not really knowing how to react to the exchange between you. Her presence sets you on edge, and you almost feel like he’s brought her here just to fuck with you. 

Well, it’s working. 

Trying to create some distance, you wander over to the kitchen island. Your gaze travels over the bottles of your parents’ alcohol collection, and knowing which to avoid after replacing most of them with water a long time ago, you smile to yourself.

The first time you tried the vodka with your best friend Trini, you were both violently sick the morning after. And the headache lasted for what felt like days. 

“Something funny, Little Mouse?” Steve asks curiously.

Finally glancing up, your eyes catch purest sapphire. The smirk on his lips makes warmth pool in the cradle of your pelvis. Deep-seated heat that could— can— easily bring you to your knees. You try to keep his stare, but your eyes are drawn to the open v of his shirt, showing off his tattooed covered chest.

“Why’d you call her little mouse?” The brunette tersely pipes up between you. Like she’s pissed off you have a nickname and she doesn’t. 

Steve finally looks towards his date. “This is George’s kid,” he explains like he’s talking to a five year old. She nods as if she knows who George is, but you can tell she doesn’t from the befuddled expression on her beyond pretty face. “She used to be such a shy little thing.” He glances back at you, lips threatening a fresh yet menacing smile.

Used to. 

She seems to accept the explanation without the need for more depth. You’re grateful. You don’t want her knowing the reason you’re no longer shy, or how Steve is privy to such private information. 

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” he continues softly, ignoring his date. “Your folks sure missed you over spring break. I know I did.” The way he stares you down both unnerves and arouses you.

“I had too much studying to do,” comes your clipped reply.

He narrows his eyes at that, completely unconvinced by the lie, but you remain stoic. He doesn’t have to know that you spent spring break with your roommate and her friends, or that the real reason you didn’t want to be here was because you knew he would be.

It’s hard to avoid Steve at the best of times, however since the incident at Christmas, he seems to be around more than usual. 

His existence is a constant reminder of what it felt like to have his face buried between your thighs— his beard both scratchy and comforting as his tongue lapped at you, humming against your clit.

The warmth in your gut starts to stir as he moves around the island, coming to face you over the sea of bottles. You try to keep his gaze, but you’re distracted by the sight of his thick fingers gliding over the polished marble. And it conjures up the memory of all the time he spent tracing delicate patterns across your skin, like he was painting a plethora of invisible tattoos to match the everlasting artwork adorning his. 

“Uh, this tastes disgusting,” Steve’s date suddenly spits, effectively ending your daydream. You look towards her a little confused until you spot the open bottle of vodka in front of her and have to stifle a giggle. 

”I’m so sorry, let me get rid of that,” you mumble. “Must have gone off.” You take the bottle away from her with an overly faux grin, thankful to be given an excuse to get away from Steve.

-

You manage to avoid Steve for the majority of the afternoon and late into evening just as the crickets start to sing. You’re grateful for your parents seemingly inviting half the neighborhood, making it easy to blend in and hide when you need to, but after a while you get curious, wondering if he’s still around.

You search the house, your hopes slowly dwindling as you go from room to room without any sign of him. Your heart sinks at the possibility that he left hours ago with his date, no doubt showing her just how talented he is with his tongue. Envy nips at your heels, threatening to discolor your thoughts when you finally spot him in the garden, laying on one of the sun loungers. 

He stares mindlessly up into the darkening sky that swallows up the fringes of pinks and reds painting the western horizon. Every few minutes or so, he brings a bottle of beer to his mouth and you find yourself daydreaming about how it would taste to lick the alcohol right off his lips. 

“Hey honey, you alright out here? It’s gettin’ a little cold,” your dad’s sudden voice says from behind you. You turn, giving him a small smile as he rubs his hands up and down your bare arms, no doubt feeling the flourish of goose flesh prickling up over your skin. “Want me to fetch you a jacket?” 

“I’m fine,” you return softly. 

“Okay,” he leans in, giving your hair a kiss, “we’ll be inside.” Dad squeezes your arm gently before letting go and disappears back into the house. This should be your sign to follow him, but your feet are firmly planted to the floor. 

Before you know it, your feet are moving— but not in the direction of the house. Maybe it’s the few vodka sodas that’s giving you the liquid courage to approach him, or perhaps, deep down, you want his attention. 

Eventually you reach him, pausing briefly as Steve looks up at you. As he silently returns his gaze to the ground, you step around the sun lounger beside him and smooth out the skirt of your dress before taking a seat. 

“Where’d your friend go?” you ask softly. 

Steve sighs a little. “She left.” He doesn’t sound particularly upset by the notion. 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t think she liked you very much,” Steve chuckles, taking another swig of beer as he stares up at the dusky sky. 

Your brow furrows. “Why?” 

“Kept making snide comments about you whenever she could,” he shrugs. “I told her to go if she was gonna spend the night insulting you.”

Your heart constricts in your chest at that and sudden guilt pulls at you. You’ve been cold towards him all evening, and he’s been nothing but courteous, even going as far as defending you against his best chance to get laid tonight. 

“Thank you,” you squeak. Just like a mouse. 

He turns his head to face you— a gentle tender look that sets your skin ablaze, and smiles softly. “No need.”

Returning it, you remain with your eyes locked until you feel a familiar warmth creeping up your back. You shift against the sun lounger uncomfortably before hurrying to stand. Brushing out the creases in your skirt, you’re desperate to give your hands something to do, besides grab hold of Steve and kiss him again. 

You turn to leave, but the rapid way in which Steve moves to a sitting position, combined with the feel of his fingers around your wrist stops you in your tracks. Your stomach twists when your eyes catch his once more. 

“Stay,” he asks of you. You’re distracted temporarily as he places down the empty beer bottle between his spread legs.

“I shouldn’t,” you reply when he glances back up.

“Why not?”

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time we ended up alone together?”

Without warning, he tugs on your wrist, and pulls you onto his lap, whispering with a deep husk, “Of course I do.”

You swallow deeply before quickly turning around to make sure nobody can see you in such a compromising position. You’re so far away from the house that the spotlights don’t reach this distance, the blanket of night slowly swallowing you as the sun sets. 

“Look at me.” 

You obey without a word.

“I think about it every fuckin’ day,” he admits quietly, letting go of your wrist and drapes his heavily tattooed hand across your bare thigh. His other hand slides around to the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer. “I never wanna wash the taste of you off my tongue.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and unconsciously, you roll your hips, grinding down hard into his crotch. Steve hisses through gritted teeth as you do so, his grip tightening around your neck and thigh. 

“Shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” you tease, bearing down even harder as heat blooms beneath your cheeks with delight. You feel Steve react, pushing back against you as the bulge of his cock brushes your clothed sex.

“Because I’m this close to pullin’ your panties to the side and makin’ you ride me for real.” His lips brush yours and you let out a squeak. “There’s my little mouse,” he adds with a chuckle, finally pressing a kiss to your mouth. He tastes of whiskey and bad decisions, but you’re addicted.

You curse under your breath when he pulls away, his hand climbing higher up your thigh until it disappears beneath your dress entirely. His fingers tease the edge of your underwear, hooking them under the material to caress your skin as his thumb glides over the top of the fabric, spreading your folds apart. When he reaches your clit, you moan into his open mouth, quietly begging him to “do it.”

Steve tugs your panties to one side and sinks his fingers into your velvety heat— one at first, then two. With whispered praise and encouragement, he manages to stretch you out to three— gaping and dripping all over his fancy dress pants. You’re on the cusp of coming when he snatches his fingers away and wraps his arms around you, pulling you with him as he lays back on the chair, knees propped up behind you.  

There’s a quick scramble as he fingers open his zipper, and you feel his thick veiny cock spring up between your thighs. And even though dusk has fallen, and he’s nothing more than a hazy shadow beneath you, you’ve never been able to see him more clearly. 

You work in sync, your bodies in tune as he coaxes you, with a hand under your ass, to lift yourself up. He drags the tip of his cock through your puffy folds— up and down, up and down— until you’re pushing against his hand, desperate to feel him inside you. He laughs gently through the darkness— a low echoing chuckle which slowly morphs into a groan as he finally allows you to get what you want. He slips into you with ease, your greedy wetness swallowing him inch by eager inch until he’s buried up to the root. 

You sit motionless for a moment, enjoying the feel of him swelling and twitching inside you, but impatience takes over quickly and you begin to rock back and forth. Steve plants his hands on your hips, helping to guide you back down onto his cock when you rise up. You place yours on his chest, and hard steel melts beneath your touch. Slowly you ride him, wanting to feel every ridge and imperfection in his cock perfectly fill you to your limit. 

You can tell he likes it. The muffled moans and under the breath expletives keep you in the moment, feeling pride swell thick in your chest. One of his hands moves from your hips to your neck, he pulls you roughly in to meet his lips with yours while he continues to groan against your tongue. 

“Fuck, you have no clue what you do to me,” Steve mutters between kisses as you lift your hips, letting his cock slip out to your entrance.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You sink back down on him and the word, “fuck,” is sudden and hot on your cheek.

Steve soon takes over— fucking you long and slow, hard and fast— until your gut is tightening to the point where you’re not sure you can hold it anymore. Every thrust of his hips sends you careening further and further towards euphoria, and then you’re shattering into a thousand rapturous pieces. 

-

Your thighs still damp, you slink back inside the house. Steve is close behind, his hand hovering over the small of your back. You want his touch back on your skin— crave it like a high, but you know that you’ll only be able to take a hit in secret. As you enter the lounge, he hangs back, waiting a beat before following you in. 

“Oh, there you are,” Dad laughs when he spots you. “We were about to send for a search party.”

Steve perches on the arm of the couch before leaning forward to scoop some dip onto his index finger. The same finger that had been inside you. 

“Sorry, we lost track of time,” he replies, sucking the dip from his finger just as your eyes meet. “Me and Little Mouse were too busy catchin’ up.”

***

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[cloudcountry]

photo albums & recovery

SUMMARY: Azul's mom sends him home with some photo albums that leave him feeling...icky.

CHARACTER: Azul Ashengrotto.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: Azul my beloved!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The prompt I used was "Start your story with a character looking through an old family photo album."

~~~~~

Azul never did like looking at photos of himself when he was younger.

After his self confidence was destroyed by his classmates, you couldn't blame him. Being as bullied as harshly as he was would leave anyone reeling, insecurities bubbling up inside of them and solidifying.

You’d been chipping away at them, slowly but surely.

Now, back at NRC from a recent trip to Azul’s home, you watched as your partner shuffled through the old photos his mother had given him, his facial expression shifting from uncomfortable to heavy cringing depending on how old he was when the picture had been taken.

“You were a cute kid.” you mumbled, sitting down beside him.

He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t trying to hide the pictures from you though, which was progress.

“I would tell you that you need not butter me up, but I have a feeling you’d argue with me if I said so.” he sighed, brow furrowed as he stared at a picture of him holding his small treasure chest full of coins he’d collected.

“You’re right, I would argue.” you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder, “You were cute then, and you’re cute now. You’re also really smart, and reliableeeee, and haaandsome!”

You laughed as he blushed, turning his head away from you.

“Must you insist on saying those things?” he gritted his teeth, eyes flickering to your slouched over form.

“Yes. Azul, I might die if I don't tell you how cute you are every day. Or that I love you. Or that I could never find anyone better for me than you. Or that you’re so amazing and talented and such a strong person, or that you’re so hard working and caring. Did I mention how much I love you yet?”

He groaned, pushing his glasses up his nose as he avoided your gaze. You laughed and smacked your lips against his cheek. His eyes went wide as he turned to face you, slack jawed.

“And it’s cute how you’re still not used to my affection.” you hummed, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “Now, tell me about this one. I see Jade and Floyd were here, too!”

[gwndolnfrankln]

your beauty never ever scared me - eddie munson x reader

part ii of i'm not in love

🎧.˳⁺⁎ summary: unfortunately, you and eddie haven't been talking for months since the incident, but lately fate has other plans when he went missing the morning after you saw him.

⋆ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

⋆ warning: 18+ mdni, exes to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, angst, slight swearing, slow burn, a lot of yearning, make-up sex, p in v, grinding, half-assed dialogue, miss author loves to describe her surroundings a little too much

⋆ wc: 7005

⋆ a/n: thank you sm for reading my first eddie fic! i truly appreciate the support from the previous one, and as promised, here's part 2 ♡ my writing may got a little rusty since i got busy, but i hope you'll enjoy it as much as i had fun writing it :> (taglist still a work in progress)

“We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don’t have a lot of details as of now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning. Police have not released the name although we are told they’re currently in the process of notifying the family.” 

With a mustard-yellow envelope in hand, your local school’s name blared from the compact tv, which surprises you from the latest. The flickering lights of the old printing shop made the place seem like a sullen hospital hallway, other than the presence of sunlight creeping in through the screen entrance doors. The news was always on from the small television set, stationed far high up against the gray striped walls. You've become a frequent visitor to the shop—befriending other photographers and travelers who needed physical prints from their out-of-the-country expeditions. It’s a welcoming shop despite other unpleasant aspects, but once the news is on, everyone gathers to listen in. 

“We also don’t know yet if foul play was involved. But whatever has occurred here is sure to touch a nerve across Hawkins.”

“Must’ve been Munson's kid for sure." You snap your head back at the owner, who's busy stamping piles of business papers behind the counter. You plop your coin purse down on the wooden surface, separating silver coins from the bronzes. “How much?” The disgruntled tone in your voice receives a snark, which slows him down from important paperwork to check the number of coins you brought out so far. 

“Hey, aren’t you a senior from that school? Then you might've seen Eddie from Forest Hills. Y’know, the one on the news.” Your ears flare up in heat at the careless assumption. Warmth boils into the hearth of your stomach when you slam your camera bag on the counter, making other customers perk up at the sudden aggression. “How much of your bickering do I have to take before you let me pay for my photos, Mr. Owens? If you need my opinion about Munson’s kid, then so be it. I’ll tell you one thing.” 

Oh, where to start? At the top of your head, you could only remember the little things. The small intricate details of his chaotic, yet wildly interesting canvas; all splashed in his favorable paints of red and black. Eddie used to draw on you under oak trees. Instead of carving his initials onto the barks of a tree, he would rather write his name messily on your forearm. 

The tingling sensation was vividly unforgettable from the marker’s tips, to his gentle fingers guiding your skin to mark you his special spot. You have the keys to his sacred collection of metal-rock records, which he doesn't mind; sometimes, he'd stick pink post-it notes onto your favorite Ozzy albums to play the tunes extensively before you bother to knock on his bedroom door. 

The same Munson kid who'd read you lore books in his bed, all cuddled up beside you with his curls tangled up around your shoulders. His showcased dimples, his hoarse morning voice, and the soft kisses between your laughs. You applied for the first four shifts on Scoops to secretly buy him a camera for his new club poster, which you've quit after you saved up enough money to purchase a standard model at Starcourt. You kept the package stashed inside your closet, waiting for the day to witness the gleeness on Eddie’s face when it’s finally his. 

From the ground up, the soles of your feet weigh heavier on your legs as the shop’s customers wait for an outburst, yet guilt turns down the anguish too quickly. 

Before Mr. Owens opens his mouth, you set down a random assortment of coins then storm out past the door’s angelic chimes, getting lighter on your feet as you lead yourself far away from the shop. As you unclasp the parking chains of your bike, the photographs fall out of the half-open envelope, letting most of the photos scatter clumsily on the rough gravel. You curse under your breath when you tie the stack around an elastic band, but paused when Eddie’s photograph faced you on top of the others; the monochromes perfectly forming a certain clarity to his Hellfire shirt and the curls on top of his hair. As much as you want to study his face, you instinctively press the picture down the side pockets of your jeans, then carefully place the envelope inside the bike basket before you take off on the long winding road.

The pedals of your metallic bike screech on the rocky pavements, the pitch hurting your ears as you set your foot down on the road to halt the tires. The quietness of the streets doesn’t feel right to you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you want to stop by the movie store to listen to Steve bicker for hours rather than the news at home. Before Starcourt mall was destroyed out-of-the-blue, you used to work shifts with them at Scoops, fondly reminiscing the times when you ate left-over ice cream with Erica between breaks, witnessing Steve’s flirtatious customer services with Robin, and the ridiculous navy blue sailor uniforms you have to wear for work. You stop in your tracks when you catch sight of the familiar colored bikes parked in front of the family video store. You perk your head up towards the glass-paneled windows to see your previous co-workers, alongside Dustin and Max busily typing on a computer. 

“I never said that!”

“Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day. Oh hey, Y/N.” The bells of the entrance door jingle behind you as you lean on the counter, helping Robin arrange a variety of sci-fi VHS tapes. “Robin, I empathize but this cannot wait.” Max nods towards you while Dustin mindlessly scribbles on his cork board. “Aren't you supposed to be at school right now?” A teasing smirk forms at the corners of your lips as Steve frowns disappointedly at the intrusion. 

From the counter's bottom shelves, Robin places a laminated sign on the registrar beside you, muttering a small thank you when you finish setting up the tapes. “Calling Eddie’s friends is an emergency?” 

Unease seeps into the air you breathe, taking whatever little strength you have from the printing shop into nothing. Every fragment of the case reminds you of the life you used to know—the shot of his trailer park on the tv, the association of the Munson name, and now what seems like an Eddie investigation case instigated by Dustin. Was it all just a coincidence? A really, really bad one?

“Can you fill them in while I do this?” Now it was Dustin’s turn to peak frustration, facing Max as she shifted her gaze to the three of you, waiting for a thorough explanation. “Fill us in on what?” Out of instinct, the knuckles of your fist pop with your clenches; your heart palpitates aggressively inside your chest. “Please, Max.” You whisper worryingly, completely frozen in your spot. 

Keyboards clackle through the overbearing silence as Max recounted yellow police tapes, Chrissy Cunningham, and Eddie Munson himself, who fled from the scene this morning. Dustin asks the four of you to look into his close contacts and call every name on the list. A few minutes later, you manage to write their names on the back of crumpled receipt scraps, then dial their numbers on one of their work telephones—most of them unavailable. 

Hesitancy hinders you from saying his name on the first phone call. Hearing yourself say it for the first time curls the tiny hairs on your skin. But one phone call after another, your internal fears creep away from your genuine words; the callers asked in some instances if you’re a close friend of his rather than a sick prank call, which is a definite plus. “Hey, guys, I might have a lead.” Everyone turns back on their seats, lending their ears to hear what Max has to say. “Apparently, Eddie gets drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick, and sometimes Eddie crashes there.”

After an interesting argument between the two friendly gentlemen, Robin was able to find Reefer's account when she checked the computer systems to track down the infamous drug dealer. “That’s out by Lover’s Lake.” The satisfaction on everyone’s faces was a feat in itself; a drizzle of hope. The tightness inside your chest eases momentously, yet bits of dread pinch you still as a board. “It’s a perfect place to hide.” Robin stood from her seat and went to look for her keys, while Dustin and Max walked around the counter to grab their bags. When the last customer exited the store, Steve and Robin made some last-minute shelving checks before each and every one of you took off to Reefer Rick’s house accompanied in Steve’s car.

The mast of darkness enveloped your line of sight except for their flashlights, slashing the dusty particles in the air. Frayed leaves crunch under the soles of your sneakers, while you tower behind Robin, who was busy checking behind the foggy windows of the house. You left them to examine the rustling sounds behind the bushes, until your eyes caught sight of the shack near the lake, seemingly abandoned in its rusty state. 

“Hey, guys?” Max’s light blinded your eyes as you turned around, the other three walking towards you. The shy winds cradled your skin, seeping through the thin fabrics of your flannel when your figures neared the shack. 

Everything about this place felt like it was pulled out of a camp horror movie, or maybe you were just too scared of the dark.  “Hello? Is anyone home?” Her voice permeated the large empty space as she walked in, mostly filled with boat equipment and carpentry tools. You observed with great caution, careful not to touch anything in the oily containers. “What are you doing?” Dustin reprimanded when Steve stabbed a random tarp with his oar, the sound of scratched plastic almost caught you off-guard. “He might be in here.” Steve kept on jostling the rowing stick onto the blue tarp, and you swear you could've taken that thing from his hands right now.

“Don’t worry. Steve will get him with his oar.”

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson. But considering almost everyone has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slightest–” In a flash, metal chains clanged the ceiling’s grasp as you stood back, accidentally tripping on a bucket of half-lidded paints, staining your clothes in the process. Quick, heavy footsteps thumped loudly on the wood while Robin wrapped her arms around you, helping you get up from the red puddle beneath you. 

You sway unsteadily in her arms; utter shock loomed over your bare features as familiar patches caught your line of sight. A terrible sound reverberated through the steels of the shack when Steve's back was slammed hard against the wall, his chin cornered with a shard. “Woah, woah, woah, Eddie! Eddie! Stop!” Dustin’s shouts hindered the attack. Steve was squirming under his hold, ready to defend himself at any given moment. “It’s me. It’s Dustin. This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?” Eddie casted Steve a murderous look while he nodded. “Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” Steve groaned when Eddie clenched his fists on the shirt material, the oar clattering loudly to the ground.

“What are you doing here?” The tremble on his final word heightened your drawing sadness, the firmness in his voice faltering slowly. “We’re here to help.” Robin spoke up beside you, which made Eddie turn around. Despite the growing panic that crossed the room, his brown eyes managed to find yours in a magnetic instant, his gaze troubled and confused. “Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin from band.”  Robin awkwardly imitated her trumpet-playing just to get the picture of what she does on the bench. “This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D.” Max quickly waved with her flashlight in hand; worrying looks streaked her face as she watched Steve struggle under Eddie’s grasp. The short introductions seemed to fly past him, his unreadable stares lingered on your skin like a cord. “And Y/N, our school’s photographer. She was with us the other night."

"Eddie, we’re on your side. I swear on my mother! Right, guys?” All heads nodded in unison, including Steve’s, who was still held at a critical point. The suspenseful seconds washed away when Eddie finally let go of Steve, then slowly walked towards the other side of the room to lean against the wall, shaken and terrified. The messy tangles of his hair, the unkemptness of his clothes, and traces of his fear weakened you to the bone. Such grief binded you to him, an unspoken mutuality that you cannot explain for the simplest of causes. The same laid-out causes you’re afraid to face; the same old half-spoken truths that wreaked havoc on your miserable fates. Unfortunately, the deepest cuts are still there, distantly shared in all its glory, bleeding for all the times you’ve spent apart. 

“We just want to know what happened.”

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie’s sniffles broke down while everyone gathered around him, careful not to get inside his personal bubble. Your shoes screeched on the pattern of paints you left behind as you stood closely, sharing this newfound silence. 

“Try us.”

The winds howled at the heavy curtains flinging past the white edges of the shack’s small windows. Everything you knew about the town, the world, changed at a shocking note. The horrors of the recounted scene paralyzed him; Chrissy’s death now a daunting reminder of his cowardice. All you could do was nod and listen, clinging onto every word. 

You both shared a look while he described the grotesque encounter, hoping that he’d get the comforting message through the lenses of your eyes. “I…I didn’t know what to do, so I…I ran away. I left her there.” You shifted your gaze, not knowing what to make of this. There was a certain willingness in you, a plea to switch places with him, take his pain as your own. The sight of his aching guilt unfurled your inner clenches, fist deep into the ugly remainders of the past. You kept to yourself for the whole evening while Dustin explained the ultimatum of their situation, which surprisingly wasn’t the first time it has ever happened to them. You and Eddie were the only ones who didn’t know much of it, unaware of the interdimensional beings that roamed somewhere in their world.

“Someone should stay with Eddie. Guard the place till morning.” Robin groaned at the suggestion, who abruptly stopped before the exit way. Arms crossed and a few meters away, Steve sent you a knowing look, a signal you've familiarized yourself with since you knew him. 

You and Steve have very similar childhoods: neglected, half-spoilt, parents on business trips and a home mostly occupied for rowdy parties and formal gatherings. That’s a look of a guy who wanted you to stay; a friend who used to be so jealous of your precious freedom, now taking it as his perfect advantage. “I have plans for tonight, Henderson. And Robin has curfew, which leaves…” This was not the first time you wanted to punch him. Steve is an achiever with his wrong timings. But they didn’t know. Still, it’s a bad idea. You couldn’t imagine yourself staying the night with Eddie in Reefer Rick’s house, after everything he’s been through. He loathes you, and he definitely should. You want him to hate you, so you could stop—

“Fine, I’ll stay. You guys better be careful, okay?” All your personal deflections sinked down miraculously, reminding yourself that not everything revolves around your own thoughts, and maybe, just maybe, this could be a decent step forward. To what, you don’t know yet. After a few pats on the back and a couple of goodnights’, you walked back to the quiet shack with your head hung low, so low that someone could mistake you for a Christmas candy cane. The door creaked scarily as you pushed it open, your careful eyes darting to Eddie’s figure, who was tucked under the uncomfortable tarp, lying down sideways on the boat. His eyes were puffy red, his cheeks clearly dried up from the tears. You cautiously placed your duffel bag on the nearest makeshift table, putting aside the crumpled-up cans and sneaker bars on its tethering edges. 

“Did you forget something?” You turned around to see Eddie sitting on the edge of the boat, slurping his new can of beer. His fixated stare had a clutch on you, your guarded front crumbling to cements. “No. I’m staying over.” You swear you could hear him gulp loudly, then to make matters worse, choked and coughed on his drink. The colors of his face turned beet-red when he placed his can on another indescribable pile. He clapped his knees when he stood up from the edge, and slowly made his way towards you, eyeing the red stains on your shirt. “It gets really cold past windy hours. We should head back to the house.”

You’ve never been inside Reefer Rick’s home before, but it seems like Eddie knew the place so well as much as his own. As soon as you walked inside, the constriction of your arms mellowed with the homely warmth, despite the history of the house. A loud thumping sound from the other room pulled you out of your thoughts, making you run towards the source. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie hopped on one foot while he placed the right amount of pressure on the other one to numb the pain, whispering more curses under his breath once he felt your presence kneeling close to him. 

"This is a nightmare." Eddie winced at the searing pain from his foot, closing his eyes as you untangled his shoelaces to loosen the tightness of their rubber straps. He's terribly overwhelmed—intoxicated from the number of beers he had drank; adding to that Dustin's greatest revelation ever known to mankind. Your fingers slightly brushed his freezing knuckles once you took his shoe off, wiggling it easily off to the side. 

"Why are you helping me?" His voice sighed through his curtain of dark curls, the air from his direct lips punctuating all your senses at once. You glanced up at him with your mouth slightly apart, taking in his daring brown eyes, the faded rashes from his cheeks and every delicate crease lining his rough features. 

"Because you're hurt." You bit your tongue before you could say any more. Eddie slouched in his position; his shoulders stooped smaller than an inch as he reached for his toes. “I’m fine now. Thanks.” It took him a few seconds to stand, struggling to bend his heel. “Wait, let me just.” Your hand managed to wrap itself around his leather sleeves to firmly guide his balance. With no other choice, he accepted your offer and was finally able to hold his ground. In a fleeting moment, you noticed Eddie glancing at your fingers for a bit longer than usual, until he willfully pulled it back to his side. 

“I…you should…there are clothes upstairs. You better change.” Before you could answer him, he swiftly maneuvered to the other side of the house, leaving with multiple questions running through your mind all at once. You don’t know how to feel. In some parts, you feel angry for deceiving him with your cut-off reasons. Other times, his closeness has washed you anew, despite how miniscule or scarce it's been shown. 

The stairs creaked under your feet as you stomped on the steps, tiptoeing around unlaundered socks clinging on the corners of the stairwell. You made sure to close the windows and shut the drapes before you change in one of the unsettled rooms. The chilly air tickled your skin, the coolness rubbing onto you like smooth fragrant soap. 

You took off your shirt and noticed that the paint solidified itself onto the fabric; the dampness no longer felt. As you rubbed off the flakes with your thumb, your bare arms tingle and flush at a certain presence in the room, making you look. 

Your bra tightly wrapped itself around your plumper regions, flustering on his watchful gaze. You never thought it possible that the swelling heat would graze itself with the coldness of your shoulders; an arson of confliction and raging want. Your body screams for his length, his space, his missing piece; an incomplete puzzle you gracefully memorized by heart. 

He couldn’t move in his place, paralyzed in a Medusa-like trance, carefully taking in the laces of your bra straps, the wisps of hair tickling the nape of your neck, and the slow heaving motions of your chest. Your numb fingers accidentally dropped the shirt on the floor, which made you pick it up; the denims of your waist tightened around the archness of your back. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie can’t stop looking at the pads of your bra, perfectly cupping your breasts like a housewarming basket. You coughed once you finally retrieved the fallen fabric from the floor, then hurriedly put on the blue button down from the bed as Eddie returned normally.

The silver rims of his watch glistened as he placed a stack of folded blankets on the edge of the mattress, whiffing the strands of hair out of his face. The doe outlines of his eyes waited for you to finish buttoning up, before he could start hearing himself. “I’ll be sleeping in the room next to yours. If you need anything, just…” You felt the creases of your cuffs bend as his gaze traveled down the plumpness of your lips to the shining flecks in your eyes. “Knock."

His adam's apple bobbed through the skin of his throat while he played with one of his rings, then glanced at you for a slither of a moment, before he turned his back on you to leave. The door was slightly ajar when he left, spiking your fallible tendency to take it as a secret hint; a hidden letter on a scrabble. You sighed as you pulled the blankets over your head, concealing whatever door your delusions barged into. 

Even when you’re covered in the most comforting of quilts that any man in the cold could have asked for, it can’t shield you from the fact that you don’t want him to be alone. Your sides longed for its match, an exerting piece, willing to complete you like a sacred locket. It pains you to see him that way, to see him try to be so strong for everyone and seamlessly make sure that you feel comfortable around the house. 

As his walls are crumbling down, all you could do was just sit there and watch like a knight who can’t do anything to fight off his dragons. Since the moment you saw him, defeated and ashamed, you want to take him in his arms and hold him until the entanglements of his suffering looped off its clots. It’s not enough that you’re just here. You have to do something, anything to be there for him.

The worthless feeling tossed and turned inside you, churning your organs like whipped dough. Before you know it, your legs brushed the sides of the bed, then you paced out of the room with your blanket in hand. Every step gets heavier and heavier as you near the room, but your insistence didn’t stop you from trying. Your knuckles knocked on the door’s timbres while you tiptoed, your feet getting sweaty from the nerves. 

In less than a second, Eddie opens the door, and you rush inside without a word. The moonlight cascaded the lines of your shadows as you stood there, your shoulders raised and your breaths quickened. The feelings you tried to conceal broke from its cages when you turned around to face him, his beautiful brown eyes widening at the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

His brows furrowed in contemplation as he watched you curiously, checking the door’s metal knobs then onto you in passive strides. 

"I can't sleep."

"What are you doing?"

No one hears the other with the simultaneous blurt-outs, which later proceed through the tunnels of silence. Your voices echoed the room even without the possibility of its reach to do so, with the walls not being high as it is. "I can sleep in the other room if you want."

"That's not what I want." The lump on your throat hinders you from speaking in a normal manner. Mentally, you're holding onto a steady rail with the height of your emotions, but unfortunately it's too difficult for you to even look at him; to be near his presence; to be seen by him. "I'll sleep downstairs, then." 

"No, stay." Eddie stops twisting the door knob in his hand, frozen in his spot. His stare was still avoidant, yet the sides of his body were awaiting more of an answer. "You can sleep here. Pretend I'm not even in this room, or any place at all in the house." The flash of hurt in Eddie's eyes made you want to roll your words back at the tip of your tongue and swallow it in the depths of your throat. You hate to admit it—and you swear you'd rather go back in time to change it—but you've implied another thing to what you said. 

"Well I'm not sleepy either, so." After a quick glance from his watch, he locks the door and waits for you to go to bed, but you don't. All you can hear is the ticking of the clock, the brushing trees surrounding the lake house, and the tiny cracks beneath your toes. Whatever strength you mustered outside inflated in an instant, melting like the icicles under the summer sun. You don't know how to act around him anymore, or imagine yourself in the same room as him. Eddie knows you so well—too well in fact—that you won't come here uninvited without an important reason. The fate of this unfinished business is up to you now, and how he's going to handle it will be etched into your dreams forever.

“I’m not here to ask for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.” The lids of his eyes flutter down to his feet when you speak; your voice raspy yet firm in truth. “But I want you to listen to me. I need you to listen, before…you try to run away from me again.” Memories from last summer rolled into the screens of your mind like an old camera reel; every scene heart-wrenching and scarred like a broken mirrorball. 

“Please, don’t start.” Eddie tears his eyes away from the floor to look at you, his hurtful expression displayed massively. 

"When can you let me? Everyday, I visit your trailer and you're not there. I go to school, I see you and you brush me off like a stranger. Is this really how it's going to be from now on between us? Merely strangers?" 

You can feel your crumpled heart curl to see him so stoic; unreachable and tall with his spiky walls of avoidance. 

"Okay, fine. Now's your chance. Look, my day hasn't been going well for me lately. And I appreciate your sincerest participation to stay with me today, but please, please, please do not bring that up."

"You barely let me finish five sentences."

"Well I don't want to hear it, okay! I don't need to hear any more, because I know." Eddie clenches his fists, then lets it go shakily to calm himself. What could he have known? He's no mind reader, yet you're finding it hard to shake away the fraying nerves engulfing your entire body. "You don't know. It's not all that simple. No matter how hard I try, it still sounds so stupid." Stupid is just an above-the-surface term to the careless path of thought candy you left behind. You'd rather throw yourself to some pack of hungry wolves than be in the dumbest situation you unknowingly put yourself in.

"No, no, you're right. It's stupid. But you know what's even crazier? I used to believe that there's…more to this. I don't know about your intentions about the whole thing, but I bet it's never similar to mine." His staggering words struck you like arrows in a battlefield, and you can barely dodge every single one of them without a breather. The realization of his hidden insecurities flowed out of his tiny box and into the clutch of your hand; not having an ounce of an idea on whether or not to keep it in your palms or stash it somewhere else. 

"Then tell me." You take a step forward as your curious gaze pinned itself onto the brown streaks of his irises. Your footsteps wake his tired features and his shoulders straighten in a jagged line when you stand a few feet away from him. Your shadows mingle with his as the dotted lights of the moonlit sky brighten in all its celestial beauty, wishing that the night will end in much better terms. 

"I see the way everyone looks at me, and I know all my precious nicknames to heart. The freak who repeated high school twice, the Kirk Hammett wannabe, that one scary dude who heavily worships the devil. My friends would tease me about you, and it has always been 'poor you dating ugly old me'. And deep inside, I know you're ashamed to be with a guy like me. To be smothered with my ugliness, to be with a loner who plays guitar in the middle of the woods, to be with a guy who couldn't tie his shoelaces properly.” You kept your mouth shut, not knowing what to say. Your quiet reaction kept him going.

“Deep in my bones, I hoped for more than just a summer thing. We agreed for an expiration date, but I didn't…I don't want summer to end for us. Never at all." Time seemed to stop with every pouring word, coated with the ultimate belief that only says one thing: he wants this as much as you do.

“All this time, you've been avoiding me because of what the town thinks of us? Well, to hell with them.” His eyes flickered into yours, carefully releasing his tightened fist to center his attention on you. Focused yet bewildered, he examines the shine of your hair, your slightly quivering lips, and the folds of the blue button-down loosely hugging your waist. Breath against breath, you inhaled through the compacts of your chest, letting your anger flow down into a peaceful stream.  

"Look, I was also scared. I'm just…used to being treated invisibly by people I know. I barely see my family for the holidays, my friends don't care about me, and my past relationships weren't entirely the best on the scales of 'healthy'. But with you, everything just tipped over for me." You exhale through your lungs when you finish, but the discontinuity urges you to speak more. Let it all out.

"You see me like no other. You spoil me with your special post-it notes, the small private concerts in your room and your sheets of handwritten lyrics that reminded you of me. The little things..you just..you're perfect. There was never a time when I felt scared of you. You never ever scared me, Eddie. You're too beautiful to even fit the category.” 

You’ve never called him beautiful before; never through a spoken word nor from a small written paragraph. The sound ringed and reverberated in the most natural of notions; not from the voices in your head, nor from any intrusive thought, rather from the farthest extent of your feelings. The quiet distance pulled you into him, a vacuum of bodies questioning the unreadable space you immersefully share.

A small tear trickled from the wetness of your lids when you blinked in his touch. His calloused palms cup the wetness of your cheeks, occupying your vision with his blurry thumb. Your fingertips travel the construction of his shirt, caressing the warmth of his linen folds. 

In a flicker of a moment, you tilt your head slightly as he gently grazes his fingers to the nape of your neck, his features softened. “You think I'm beautiful?” He whispers thoughtfully, completely enamored with the crinkle of your eyes when you conjure up a pleasing smile. The shadows of his hair envelop your line of sight as you examine his collarbones closely, tugging the fabrics of his shirt bashfully towards you. Your daring eyes locks into his, almost like a secret confirmation, drawing him near you in a ready invitation. 

Nothing in the world could ever prepare you beforehand when you feel his lips crash into yours, his plumpness blending your chapness. His dark curls tickle your face when he sinks deeper into your ravenous kiss, gently nibbling on your bottom lip. The momentum was extraordinary, and you missed every rhythm with so much longing. You grin against his toothy smile when he steadily pushes you to the bed, covering your whole waist with his large palms.

“God, I miss this.” He mutters in between kisses as your hands sneak under the hems of his Hellfire shirt, making him shudder blissfully under his breath. He bites onto the side of your neck as a subtle punishment, then licks on the same spot to lessen the ting. Eddie pulls back to marvel at his handiwork designating the base of your neck, showcasing his wonderful set of cheek dimples you love so much. You gently press your thumb around the lobes of his ear, brushing the tangles away from the sides of his face. Your knees graze the hardened fabric between his pant legs, carefully playing with your movements while he grunts against your ups and downs. 

He stares at you disappointedly when you stop, but as soon as you straddle on top of him, he grins widely like a child in Charlie's chocolate factory. Your fingers grasp his shoulders as he unzips your jeans in a flourish, then slowly slides his light fingers between the hip of your panties. His hungry lips left your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down to your gasping collarbones and the line of buttons covering your eagerness. Your nipples tingle as he unbuttons your top then pecks the warm skin underneath your breasts, softly caressing the other with his rough palms. 

His teases throw you in a whirlwind of pleasure and havoc, completely ruining your well-moderate facade for the whole evening. Careful not to break his legs, you pull your denims down to your ankles, which he tossed in the corner of the room. With a starving look in his eyes, his hands squeezes your bare thighs, then slowly sneaks his ringed fingers under your panties to clench your ass cheeks. You groan against his ear, thrilling you to bounce on top of him, his length throbbing under your wetness. “Give it to me, Eddie.” Your breath fan warmly against his upper lip while you unbuckle his belt, the coldness of the metal channeling your inner impatient wants.  He leans his forehead against yours as he lays you down on the sheets, kissing you passionately on the lips before he hurriedly takes off his garments, the sight intensifying the indescribable heat going through your body.

A flock of butterflies dances inside you when you catch sight of the tattoos stationed on his chest, the light hairs on his forearm and the feel of his rough happy trails against your flabs. The warmth of his cock strokes your half-open folds, his pinkish tip slithering under your sensitive clit. Faded stars cascaded your vision once he finally slid his hardness inside of you, your nails pinning his upper back. 

Your legs wrap itself around his waist as he slowly shoves his cock in your tightened grasp, your mind going hazy from the largeness. The pain of the surprise all went away when his fingers intertwined yours, leaving sloven kisses on the crook of your neck down to your shoulder. His head of hair nuzzles the pillow close to your ear as his delicious pattern of slams continues to rise above its peak. 

It’s incredible how every push tears you apart in a good way. A shameful gasp left your lips as his thumb flicks your clit in circular motions, while his cock monstrously devours your insides. Beads of sweat trickle down your forehead when your inner thighs stretch at his extensive motions, getting bigger than the next. He raises his head to look at you, grinning from ear to ear, happily taking in the pleasurable strokes on your face. 

“Cum with me, okay?” In between breaths, he gently places his calloused palm on your cheek, his hips quickening against the crinkled sheets. You stare back at him and nod, feeling the pressure of his cock harden stickily around your walls. His tangled curls tumble down the space between your fingertips while you reach out for him, setting in the downcast flutter in his eyes. He deeply groans at how his cock effortlessly glides and withdraws from your pussy; a slippery slope that’s impossible to contain himself with.

Like a force of lightning, he leans his chest forward, pouring himself on your lower abdomen and splaying his cum on your stomach. Quickly, he bounces out of bed and retrieves some tissues from the bathroom to clean you up. You sat up limply from the bed to take the tissues, but instead he wipes the fresh cum off your chest with great concentration. You’ve never seen him behave so nervously before. He was patting you dry like he spilled coffee all over your most favorite shirt.

“I don’t know what went over me.” He chuckles softly as he crumples the last tissue in his hand, throwing it in a bin closer to the door. You let your hip rest on his bended knee, calming the nerves coursing through his trembling figure. “You don’t have to know.” A small, reassuring smile creep the corners of your lips, resting your palm on top of his knee. 

A gust of wind sweeps the flailing orange curtains, silkily brushing your skin like smooth ribbon. “All I know is,” He whispers softly in the small space between the two of you, your bent wrist kept in close contact with his fingertips. 

“You find me beautiful.” The teasing hint in his voice liquifies your insides, his restlessness fading with your inability to look at him straight. His coffee brown eyes follow the direction of your fingers on his curly ends, then the plumpness of your thighs. “The prettiest.” He lunges forward with his arms wrapped around you, crushing you in a passionate kiss. Carefully, he pulls his arms away from the pressure of your back, then rests his elbows on the disorganized sheets, caging your vision with his heavy fixture. 

Every little thing he does transfixes you to a thrilling paralysis. Nature fades at the sight of him, surpassing your high observant tolerances for your surroundings. He’s like a blinding light, the afternoon sun, and a white flashlight in a darkened room. 

Most of your days started to revolve around him the moment he shone on that stage with his band in middle school—battling his heart out to the music and the good impression of the judges. The admiration has always been about him, and he doesn’t know that you did for a very long time. The gods of fate swept at your feet when you encountered him on the second week of freshman year, pinning Hellfire recruitment posters on the school’s cork board. 

It used to be a silly little crush, ridiculous with no strings attached, but through the passage of time, you realized that it was more than what you believed it to be. You cradled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent and the steady, heaving motions of his stomach. All night, you’ve been thinking about what would've happened if you never joined Dustin and the others at the video store, or raise your tone at Mr. Owens for ridiculing Eddie at the printing shop.

What would happen if you declined Nancy’s request for the photos, and never went to the campaign at all? What would happen if you never encountered Eddie in the middle of the forest that day, or chased him outside the night you decided to end things with him? 

These kinds of thoughts sink in like quick sand—with no capability to heap it into a bag and throw it away into the ocean of other nightmares.

For the first time in a while, you observe his state of rest—the shadowed lashes of his eyes pointing down to his hollow cheeks; his brows fixed in a calmer line and his pink swollen lips, exhaling peacefully. You wished—somewhere in the deeper crevices of your mind—that you get to spend many of your quiet evenings with him someday. Your imaginations start as you invite him to your empty house, where you both cuddle up on the couch and count the stars from the ceilings of your bedroom, until you pass out after the forty-sixth star. 

You swear you'll never let him out of your sight again, no matter the cost of that promise, even after everything the town says about him. Or what they'll do to him. You don't care if you have to hide him in that damn tarp and ship him to California alongside yourself. There won't be any more expiration dates, no more judgement, and no more hiding.

No matter the cost. No matter the price.

[pixiemage]

I deal with ADHD on a daily basis, meaning I struggle with multiple (frustrating) things. There's one in particular that's been on my mind the most as of late: it's difficult for me to complete large tasks easily. For me, motivation, mental energy, and time are limited, and those rare moments where it all lines up so I can get shit done are often few and far between. This applies to both things I don't want to do, and things I do want to do. Even writing or cosplay construction or editing videos can become daunting tasks even though they're all fun and enjoyable hobbies of mine.

Recently, I've been trying to clean my room.

As anyone in my immediate family can tell you, this has been a big problem since I was young. My room starts clean, but then I put a few pairs of shoes by my bed, then don't have the energy to deal with the growing laundry pile, then can't find a place for the new mic stand I got for my birthday, then I start dumping jewelry on my bedside table at the end of the day when I'm tired, then - then - then. And then it builds to a disastrous tipping point and it has become this massive, incomprehensible task I have to tackle, and because my brain hates me, it's a frustrating and grueling process to even figure out where to begin.

But deadlines help (pressure helps) and I have found that working on it in the wee hours of the morning (from midnight to like 5am) is somehow a way to get my brain to focus on it. For some reason I work better then. Arguably, this isn't logical or useful every day because I need sleep and I have work, but I made MASSIVE progress two days ago by staying up way too late on a night when I finally found the drive to get shit done.

That's not really the point of this post though.

The point is that I've found that a majority of society (or maybe just the NT community in general) have a hard time seeing progress as worthwhile when completion is better.

"Did you finish your room?" "Not yet, but I dealt with that massive pile of crap on my couch! It's SO much better, and I can actually see the floor in front of my dresser now, and-" "That's not what I asked. Did you finish?" "Not yet." "The answer is no, then."

It doesn't matter how much I've done. It doesn't matter how proud I am of my partial progress. It doesn't matter that I fought tooth and nail to get to the point I'm at, because unfortunately, I haven't finished it all yet, so it's not good enough.

(And I know I have a deadline, and I know we have family coming over soon, and I know that being done is the goal, but the deadline isn't here yet. Give me time. I need time.)

I think we as a society need to award and praise ourselves more for the efforts we put in, whether we reached a finish line or not. I'm not saying we shouldn't strive for completion, because at the end of the day that's often the goal of any task. But we should also let ourselves be proud of how far we have come as long as we're doing our best. I don't see that often enough. I continuously struggle to reach that finish line, but hey, I came this far today! I didn't reach Toad so he could tell me my princess was in another castle (because god knows there's always another task), but I did hit that checkpoint, and since I've been struggling through this level for as long as I have, that's still worth celebrating in some small way. It's still worth all the coins I collected and the goons I defeated to get to this point.

Don't reprimand your kids because their hard work thus far doesn't quite live up to your standards. Applaud what they've done and then help them find the right next step so they're motivated to keep going.

It takes a lot of work to save a princess. The journey has a lot more monsters than just the dragon.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto Bloom Birthday Voice Lines

When Summoned: This is quite the grand celebration. I'll gladly accept all of your warm wishes.

Summon Line: The gold embroidery on this fit is exquisite. As the birthday boy, I must behave in a manner that is most fitting for this elegant attire.

Groooovy!!: I have practiced extensively for this day. Allow me to show you the fruit of my labors!

Home: I shall grant your wish!

Home Idle 1: Jade poured this tea as his gift to me. Only... He had this strangely good-natured smile on his face as he did so. ...Would you care to drink it?

Home Idle 2: My dormmates keep bringing to me plate after plate of dishes they highly recommend. Please, there's no way I would be able to eat that much.

Home Idle 3:  I don't understand why candles are inserted into the cake... Sure, it's lovely to see the flames dance in the dark, but it ruins the cake's presentation when it comes time to eat it.

Home Idle - Login: I'm truly honored that you've taken the time out of your busy schedule to wish me a Happy Birthday. It is said that time is money, after all.

Home Idle - Groovy:  It seems Jack-san would not be very suitable for any kind of business negotiations. His tail just gives away his honest feelings.

Home Tap 1:  On principle, I do not accept gifts, but there are some exceptions. That's because there are some people I would like to develop long-lasting relationships with. Kalim-san, for example.

Home Tap 2: Even brooms can appear elegant when decorated with chic flowers. This just goes to show that even the plainest object can be made attractive with the slightest bit of effort.

Home Tap 3: I was overwhelmingly crushed by Idia-san while playing a board game today. I cannot allow this utter disgrace to stand on my birthday... I must collect data and have my revenge!

Home Tap 4: As a gift to myself, I purchased a coin that I was eyeing. It was a tad pricy, but when I think about its potential worth in the future... Fufu, I cannot wait.

Home Tap 5: It's no use trying to surprise me, I have eyes in the back of my head as well. Fufu, I'm only kidding, of course.

Home Tap - Groovy: Something I would like? ...Then, please sing a birthday song for me. Come, you'll sing for me, won't you?

Duo: [AZUL]: Jack-san, you know what you should say here, right? [JACK]: Azul-senpai... Happy Birthday.

Birthday Login Message: Is there anything I would like for my birthday...? Of course, there is. As many things as would fill an endless ocean. However, there is no need for you to gift me anything. Whatever it is that I may want, I will acquire by my own hand! Nothing is as costly as a free gift, after all. Well, I shall at least accept your kind thoughts. Thank you.

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Got anything that lets you play as monsters (vampires/monsters/etc) in the modern world in the vein of VTM? Ideally something in the PBTA/FITD area of system, but open to others for sure (: Thanks as always for your recs!!

THEME: Urban Monsters

Friend, the difficulty with this post isn’t that I don’t have recommendations for it - it’s that I’m trying to find recommendations that I haven’t talked about ad nauseam to this point. So I hope you don’t mind a fairly extensive “Past Recommendations” at the bottom of this post, because most of the PbtA games I know of are going to be there. I have limited experience with Vampire: the Masquerade, but I’m a big fan of Changeling: the Lost and other World of Darkness games, so I’m going off of general knowledge rather than specifics.

Bubblegum Vampires / Bubblegum Wizards 2, by Gormengeist.

You're a vampire in an infinite urban cauldron of muck and rot, of psionics and wizards, of danger and shadows. Though you are surely terrible, great, horrifying, (etc.), half the day is an enemy to your people; so set forth through the night to make your coin, secure your dwellings, and vanquish your infinite enemies.

You're a wizard who chews bubblegum and collects trading cards. That is to say, cards with the trapped souls of items and enemies within, obviously. An insignificant wizard in an infinite city has lots to prove and you've got to get help somehow. Break heads, steal money, drive stupid, chew gum, trap souls. Simple as.

Neon-Bright art and d6-based rolls, that’s what’s common across both of these games. This is the same world, but you’re living in two different spheres of it, depending on which game you play. As wizards, you collect spell cards that hold the souls of creatures you’ve vanquished, and use them to get yourself out of sticky situations. As vampires, you accrue vampiric powers through blood sacrifice, and your opponents are usually folks with especially tantalizing veins. Both games have various factions that have different goals than you, so if what you like about Vampire: the Masquerade is the amount of different ideologies that have the ability to fuck you up, you might like this game. Thematically, it looks a little more upbeat and pulpy than your typical V:tM game, but if you like one, you have another game in the same system ready to go.

The Hidden, by Dragons Are Real.

As children our parents read us fairy tales, ghost stories and recounted local myths. We’ve always assumed these stories are told to entertain or scare….what if these aren't just stories….everything you have been told is true. 

The creatures from fairy tales, mythology and folklore all exist.  Have you ever thought you saw something strange out of the corner of your eye but when you look again all looks normal. These creatures live in plain sight, unseen by the majority of people, only those who know they exist see them in their true form. Every culture has a name for these creatures but we know them simply as The Hidden.

The Hidden is a modern urban fantasy game powered by the Breathless RPG. It is inspired by such media as Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Constantine and The Dresden Files.

Another pulpy sort of game, the Breathless system that powers The Hidden is great for replicating diminishing resources, putting your characters in more and more difficult situations every time they pause to take a breath. This makes this game great for horror-style stories, and World of Darkness games firmly find a home in the horror genre. If you want something that’s fast-paced and can cover a lot of ground in a short session, The Hidden might be for you.

Tween Wolf, by Ibi Deficit Orbis.

Tween Wolf is a micro-RPG about middle schoolers experiencing both the fantasy of being exceptional, and the fear of being humiliated. As these kids come to terms with their awkwardly developing human bodies, they will also be faced with lycanthropy. And in the process they will experience supernatural heroism and intense shame—and learn to manage both.

It is designed to be played with a bent towards exploring the unforgiving social cruelty of middle school, self-image, and dysphoria. It requires one Game Master, 1 to 4 additional players, a few hours, one six sided die for each player, and two additional six sided dice for the table to share.

This is a very short game, with very few rules and a big focus on trying to keep your wild side under wraps. If what you like about WoD games is the struggle between the monstrous and the human, this might be the game for you. There’s not nearly as many big moral quandaries as there are in typical WoD games - you’re middle schoolers, not eons-old bloodsuckers - but to a middle-schooler, your problems are massive. I feel like the movie Seeing Red might be a good touchstone for this game.

Glamour of Our Youth, by Yuri Runnel.

Glamour of Our Youth is a roleplaying game based on the Forged in the Dark system. Drawing inspiration from media like Riverdale, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina among others, it works to tell stories of supernatural teenage adventures.

Building on the FitD framework, Glamour serves to tell exciting stories with high stakes, putting the youths through their paces as they try to make their way through a strange and hostile world, struggling with conflicts both internal and external, arcane and mundane. 

This game doesn’t cast your characters as specific supernatural beings, but the character options certainly make it possible. You cobble your character together from two different halves: Archetypes and Arcana. Your Archetype hails from classic high school cliques, such as Rebel, Outcast, Socialite and Athlete, while your Arcana details your supernatural ability, including Shapeshifter (which might translate to werewolf), Oceancaller (which you could turn into a selkie) or Shadow (which feels rather ghost-like to me). There’s also plenty of ways to play a teenage mage.

This game is in playtest, but it’s considerably far a long, with recent updates that indicate that the crew is hard at work refining the final product.

Protect the Child, by MintRabbit (that’s me!)

Humans have always been protective of their young, sometimes overly so. Humans have also always feared that which might make their young strange or different, and so insist that only humans can raise their own young. Monsters cannot raise human young. This is known. You have a human baby. You cannot find its parents. What is even worse, is that this child has powers, powers that others covet, and so everyone wants it. If you want to prove that you’re not the heartless monster that everyone says you are, that means you’ll have to raise it, at least until you find someone who is better suited to it than you.  You are creatures of fur, scales and fangs. You have claws that can rend flesh, faces that can crack mirrors, howls that can cause ears to bleed.  And your charge wants a blankie.

Protect the Child is a Forged in the Dark game about monsters caring for a young human, a human who contains strange and mystical powers that make them a valuable asset in any monster crew. The setting and factions present in this game are flexible: you might be aliens in a far-flung future galaxy, fantasy monsters from rival kingdoms, or even everyday wild animals that fear human society. 

So I’ve only just started play testing this game, which means that it’s very much in barely-playable mode. This game is also setting-agnostic, meaning that you can decide exactly when and where your game takes place - including as modern-day monsters trying to take care of a human baby with magical powers. The game is very specific in the themes of the story you’ll be telling - that is, themes about monstrosity, parenthood and responsibility, but if you all want to play different kinds of vampires, you can absolutely do that!

BloodLite, by ruan8000.

BloodLite is a role-playing game (RPG) designed to be played solo, but can be played in a group. In this game, you will create a Vampire following the rules and you will also create the world that this vampire interacts with, as well as the conflicts and obstacles that he will face. The world in BloodLite is like ours, but a little darker and more dangerous, full of supernatural creatures.

This game has no ties to PbtA or FitD, but it cites Vampire: the Masquerade as a direct inspiration, and you can see it in the Bloodline options available at character creation. You have a supernatural gift that give you advantages and also trigger your Hunger, which is your character’s thirst for blood. The goals of the game are represented through an Oath track, which fills when you fight enemies, overcome obstacles, and solve problems. This a fairly stripped-down game, but if you’re familiar with V:tM, then you probably won’t have a problem filling the world with factions, back-alley deals, and political wars.

Hearts of Yokai, by Lowell Francis.

So, this game isn’t out yet. But I can’t stop myself from talking about it a little bit. It’s the product of a Changeling:The Lost PbtA hack that Lowell has been working on for a very long time. I’ve been a bit fan of Changeling: the Lost and I also love PbtA games so I’m really excited to see more of this.

The link in the title leads to the current google spreadsheets that detail the current content of the game and the associated playbooks. The link for Lowell is to a blog post he wrote about the game, talking about the history, the changes he’s made, and the ideas behind what the current iteration is. What really intrigues me is how it incorporates "the actions of the Gentry through the lens of colonialism.” I’m really eager to follow the progress of this game.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Urban Shadows 1e, by Magpie Games.

Bite Marks, by Black Armada Games.

Monsterhearts 2e, by Buried Without Ceremony.

Strays, by kumada1.

Eldritch Investigative Drama Rec Post