#windows defender isn't that bad

[arrowstike-bunn]

I feel like malware bytes and windows defender are lying to me about my laptop being threat free

[unsolicited-opinions]

Anyone want to defend this as antizionist, not antisemitic..? Anyone?

Anticipated Responses from Western Leftist "Pro-Palestinian" Folks:

This smells like a false flag. Mossad must have thrown that brick.

Being pro-Palestinian doesn't mean we're anti-Semitic. It just means sometimes windows need to be broken for liberation.

This is property damage, not violence. Violence is when someone disagrees with me.

Why does a kosher store automatically mean it's a Jewish space? Could've been a coincidence. Besides, Jews stole kashrut from Islam.

Well, did the store post anything about Gaza? Because silence is violence too.

Maybe the brick was a metaphor. Ever think of that? Art can be confrontational.

Windows are temporary - oppression isn't.

We can't be certain of the intent. Maybe they just really hate deli meats.

The real crime is people trying to center Jewish feelings during a genocide.

Zionists are trying to weaponize this to distract from dead Palestinian babies.

Not all Jews are Zionists, but all Zionists play the victim.

We condemn all violence - except when it's against systems of oppression like kosher grocery stores.

Okay but why is everyone talking about this when Rafah is being bombed?

This is what happens when people feel unheard. Don’t blame the oppressed for lashing out.

Let’s not jump to conclusions until we know the full context, like whether the store sold Sabra hummus.

Even if it was one of ours, can you really blame them?

'Free Palestine' isn't hate speech. That window was on the wrong side of history.

Stop centering Jewish trauma.

Wow, can’t believe people care more about one window than an entire blockade. Y’all are the real oppressors.

The store's called The Butcherie?? Sounds pretty colonial to me. And appropriating Lesbian culture.

How do we even know it was a real brick? Could’ve been CGI.

Jewish businesses need to check their complicity before calling the cops. That's carceral Zionism.

If Jews feel unsafe, maybe they should try being pro-Palestine for once.

If the owners aren't Zionists, this is bad...

This is a distraction campaign by the settler-industrial deli complex.

Antisemitism? No, that’s just a term Zionists use to silence dissent and…bagel lovers.

People always call these things 'antisemitic' just because they target Jews.

Technically it's anti-Zionist architecture critique. Read Fanon.

If you think a brick with 'Free Palestine' thrown through a window is hate, maybe the real issue is your internalized Zionism.

Please share your own predicted responses.

[dustisus]

Imagine you are Erik Klose. You get an exchange student who is obviously not doing alright, but you and your family show him that there is nothing wrong with him. Over the year he comes out of his shell and you are so in love with the vibrant person who has been hiding in there all year so you tell him you love him and he tells you he loves you too.

He goes back home but he returns (for you) when there is nothing left for him there, and your family is so ready to embrace him as one of their own. You catch him and your grandma in the kitchen, and she's teaching him the family recipe for Spätzle and he's teaching her the ingredients' names in Spanish. When the winter comes he is always the first one to volunteer to shovel snow with your father. When warmer temperatures come you wake up to his voice streaming in from the window where he always has breakfast with your mother. Your family loves him, so when he decides to move away again to take care of his own family (we are your family, too, you tell him, and he just smiles) they cry just as much as you do. The night before he has to wake up early to catch his plane you ask him to marry you, in the future, when it's legal, and he says yes. Still you wake up from his alarm early in the morning and his kiss goodbye.

At first you speak on the phone every day but then a job takes you across the country and takes all your time, and when his first job doesn't make him enough money for a three-bedroom house, he gets another one, and then another, until you have to schedule calls days in advance and most days you just text. But he tells you again and again that those boys need him, and from the sound of it, they do need someone to love them. And who will love them like your fiancé will love them? You have never met a person so capable of love, of engagement, in your life.

The call comes one early morning and he says that one of the twins has been arrested, that he has gotten into a fight, that it was to defend him, and doesn't mention until several minutes into the frantic call that it was him that he was defending. He says he has a smarting rib but is okay but what will happen to his cousin? I don't care, you don't say.

Finally the twins turn 18 and you start a countdown until they graduate in the spring, but come March he calls you and says they have all been offered full-ride scholarships, on the term that they all play Exy. The coach says he needs to keep an eye on Andrew, and maybe that would be for the best? he asks, and then when can start a life together I'd have a degree, and... and... By the time the call ends, he's convinced, and you could never step on his dreams.

Over the first year he calls you and tells you about his asshole teammates, and of how he answers on Andrew's beck and call to make sure things run somewhat smoothly within the team. You hear him pause slightly before choosing his words, consciously choosing the most innocent ones for his twins and the most incriminating ones for himself.

In the summer he comes home to you, but the summer is too short.

The next year, his texts dwindle and on your calls he sniffles but says he's not crying. He calls and says he did something bad and whatever comes to him it's his fault, but won't elaborate. This sounds like what he was saying when he first met you, so you comfort him and says it isn't. It's just been difficult, he says, when a teammate's died. You want to tell him it's so simple here, so simple to you, but you don't. It's not what he needs to hear.

The next few months are a shitshow that you only hear about from his calls and texts, and then eventually some news articles that reach you from the other side of the world. It worries you to know that he is distantly involved with some of the people that are not mentioned by name in the articles, but that you recognize from his stories. Once again, you tell yourself that he knows how to manage it, has always been able to manage it.

The chaos culminates at the championship finals and you are there to see it all go down. He turns his head to you, shouts your name as you spot the opposite player come close to killing your fiancé's friend. He lives, but the opposite player doesn't, and there are no loud celebrations for you to take part in. That night you and your fiancé celebrate quietly, on your own. You have not seen him in almost a year, and it's as if some of the vibrancy has run out of him. His eyes lack a glint, his hair a shine.

You stay a week and you meet the twins in person for the first time. Andrew is more subdued now than in past stories, Aaron feistier. You don't care much for them, but they are important to Nicky, so you make an effort. Neither will talk to you.

It only takes two days until Aaron catches you cuddling on the sofa in the dorm and you overhear an ew. It bewilders you but Nicky is falling asleep so you just continue running your fingers through his hair. The next day all of the Foxes have gathered for a film night, and Nicky has talked about how excited he is for you to meet them and introduces you to them with a joke and a flourish. They tell him to shut up, and Nicky laughs it off as a joke. Maybe you just did not get it. The rest of the night they try to pull you into also harping on Nicky, and get bored when you just say that you love him.

A week into your visit, Andrew pulls a knife on Nicky, and all the moments you have shared with him, all the ones you have planned, flash before your eyes. Nicky doesn't even seem scared, and the Foxes around them watch you curiously instead of the crime before them. Before you know what you're doing you have grabbed Andrew to pull him off, pull him away, but you're quickly overpowered.

Nicky cries as he patches you up. You understand he had not wanted you to see that, and you don't know what to say. You pull up the edge of his shirt to find small scars patterning the bottom of his abdomen, and for the first time you see them as what they are and not as a result of the game. You ask how often this happens, and he says only when I deserve it. He says it and you watch yourself transported, sitting in Berlin with a boy who said I deserved it, and once again you tell him he has never deserved this. You tell him he needs to leave, to please go back home with you, that they are not his family, but he says he can't. You have not seen him so grey in years.

He sees you off at the airport when you leave. Once again you plead for him to come with you, and once again he says he can't. You know you can't force it, can only say that you'll wait as long as it takes.

[kedreeva]

I am glad Bumblebee is alright!

I am surprised to hear that a hen would kill an unknown chick. Do you know why they would do that? Is it because of the scarcity of resources in nature? Or something else? 👀👀

Thank you for all your posts about peacocks! They are such a fascinating birds!

I don't know for certain.

My best guess would be that they are VERY insistent that "you are not my child go back to your own mum" turns into injury due to sharp beaks. Peafowl recognize one another, and have concepts of when someone they know and like is missing (they will call for flock members that aren't present if you remove one and they don't see it happen, or if one dies and you don't let them see the body, hens that like one male sometimes will refuse to mate with another), and I assume that this means they're also aware when someone doesn't belong. They are just as likely to drive off unknown adults as unknown babies.

They also see small animals as food, and/or may be defending their nest (from predators like snakes or rodents) and not recognize a chick they haven't been talking to through the egg for a day before seeing it.

They are EXTREMELY PARTICULAR about things as well even outside of breeding. But these are birds who CANNOT be relocated if they nest somewhere. Like, chickens if the chicken is broody and you pick her up and take all her eggs and put her into a crate in your house and put eggs (they don't even have to be the same eggs, the same number, or hers) into the crate, she will just sit back on them. Not peafowl. If you try to move a peahen nest, she goes "peace out fuck that" and abandons it- and you can't even put the eggs back, she won't go back to a nest site that has been disturbed.

It's also true that they invest a LOT of care in their young compared to other galliformes. Chickens and turkeys and pheasants will tend their babies for a couple months. Quail a couple weeks. Basically as soon as the babies don't need heat they're outie, mom will start pecking them to go someplace else so she can raise more or have her space back, and to be honest the babies aren't all that interested in mom care after that period of time. But not peafowl. Peachicks will follow their mom's for a whole year while she's raising just them, and then stick around her for the next year or two learning from her. The males don't even leave to strike out and find their own flock because that's not how peafowl family dynamics work; they form leks during breeding season, of brothers/dads/uncles/cousins etc. so they have pretty strong family ties. Anseriformes (ducks, geese, etc), while "fowl," are not the same, behaviorally, as land fowl and you can't really compare them because of how different they are.

So it's entirely possible that "new chick that doesn't belong and looks like food and I've got enough to deal with already" just hits a lot of bad buttons for them.

Which isn't to say they absolutely won't ever take new babies. Every hen I've fostered babies to within the first couple days has taken them. But it's a small window before they stop, and that window generally ends before the first week is up. Ask any breeder you like if you can foster a baby on a mom with chicks that are 2 weeks old already and they'll tell you only if you want to lose the fostered chicks. WHY is not a studied question, we just know that's how it is.

[suksatoru]

jjk men and how they'd be with their kids! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Satoru Gojo ᡣ𐭩⊹ ࣪ ˖ spoils his kid rotten. If they ever get in trouble, he'll be right behind them no matter what - whether right or wrong, this man will defend his kids most outrageous behavior with the straightest face. Gentle scolding - he physically cannot be mean to them. Him and his kid would probably hide from you when you're angry. Again, he spoils them ROTTEN. They mention something they saw while window shopping with you over the weekend? Well, suddenly it's sitting on their bed - wrapped in wrapping paper with a little note that says 'don't tell your mama! :p'

Suguru Geto ᡣ𐭩⊹ ࣪ ˖ this man would quite literally be one of the best father's ever. His kids no doubt would be the most respectful little angles to ever walk the earth. (Only time they get into trouble is when they're hanging out with uncle Gojo, who can be a very bad influence) He keeps the little things in mind, noticing when his kids mood is down or if something is bothering them. Really good at cooking food, most of the time, the kids prefer his cooking over yours. Which is completely understandable. You don't mind it at all, loving the sight of your husband cooking in the kitchen with an apron strapped around his waist.

Nanami Kento ᡣ𐭩⊹ ࣪ ˖ Brings his kids back the sweetest and most thoughtful gifts from his work trips. Is super involved in their lives, knows their preferences and what they dislike - he has a little notebook in his suit pocket to note down things he thinks you, his lovely wife, or kids might enjoy while he's out. Is so good with helping them out with their homework when they don't understand it. He'll explain it in a way that has his kid nodding their head like 'ohh ok dad!'. Makes their lives 10x easier just by being himself.

Ryomen Sukuna ᡣ𐭩⊹ ࣪ ˖ His kids will probably hide behind you when they hear this man's thunderous footsteps cause who isn't afraid of him?!? Openly bullies his kids, especially when they're babies. Talking about how useless babies are when his kids are cuddling with him - they should be terrified of the King of Curses, yet they insist on bossing the literal boss around. His kids would definitely pick up on his language, randomly cussing throughout the day and genuinely not understanding whats wrong with it. His eye literally starts twitching when you tell your kids 'no potty mouth like daddy!' Gives the most extravagant gifts ever to you and his kids. He is the King of Curses, after all. Not a single mother's day goes by where you aren't treated like the queen you are by him and your kids.

[enjakey]

One Night

Pairing: Jake x Fem!Reader

uhmmm sooo, how did I write this fic (7k) in a day?? To be fair, it's kind of shitty. And it's my first time using second person in a long time so my writing style changed to accommodate. My brain is like fried.

Oh, if I met Jake like this, I think I'd just faint. It's the dream of every Jake stan, isn't it? And bruh I seriously cannot write smut for the life of me so I just like... blabbered. But damn bro, sex with Jake seems so... Anyways, thank you for reading guys!

Writing this fic kinda made me hurt. Miss Jake so much rn- did not think that was something I could physically feel. There's not much plot. It's all soft and gooey and what I think meeting Jake irl in these circumstances would go like. Lot's of confusion and wtf is happening from the reader's side.

Summary: in which ENHYPEN argues with their shitty excuse for a management and Jake storms out, convinced that his night is ruined. Until he meets you in the elevator and makes it his mission to be beside you the whole time because you are an ENGENE and he loves his fans. But will the night's decisions get you in trouble? Will the night's decisions leave you in shambles when you wake up the next day? Only one way to find out...

They didn’t really know how it happened but they found themselves tangled in a screaming match with their management and staff. It was ill-timed, really, but inevitable- this argument, this confrontation of sorts. Sunghoon’s hotel room had converged into a crossroads- first, he was talking to his manager, then the staff came in to defend themselves and then some of the producers and finally, his members, slipped through the crack of his door as they heard the hallway echoing with ruckus.

One of the staff members, standing at the corner of the room, almost disappearing behind the door, whispered to Jungwon about what was happening. Sunghoon had been followed- it was an old man, seemingly hired by a crazed fan who wanted to know the group’s whereabouts. Sunghoon, unbeknownst, assuming that being in a different country would allow him more freedom around commoners, was helping the man’s feigned sense of loss in direction. Until he was followed into the hotel’s elevator and he had to scheme himself into safety. He was alone, he was afraid and finally, he simply didn’t want to leave his room after that.

“Sunghoon, this is the most we can do,” one of the staff members said, stone-faced and adamant as they always were.

ENHYPEN’s manager stood against the window, hand in his face as he hid from the members’ glares. They loved their manager, they truly did- the charismatic, handsome, long-haired man who was almost like a parent to them. But children had a tendency of growing both hatred and love towards their parents and this was one of those times.

“He was literally followed,” Heeseung’s loud voice ricocheted between the four barren walls of the hotel room. Everyone was looking at him now, watching the way his brows contorted into anger, teeth gritting from disappointment, arm stretched out to disrespectfully point at everyone- it was threatening, scary to look at.

Jungwon, attempting to calm his Hyung, stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t shout,” he said to him, but the anger on his face was equal and evident, voice low and unwavering. Then he looked at his manager who was still avoiding their gaze. Then he looked at the staff and producers. “Are you realising how bad this looks?”

Sunghoon, who was curled up on the couch, legs pulled to his chest as a pillow slotted behind his back, was looking at the ruckus, eyes moving back and forth between the people that were defending him and the people who were supposed to protect him- supposed to. Sunoo and Jay found their way to him, sitting on either side of him, head tilted as their hands caressed his shoulder.

“I could have been hurt,” Sunghoon said, a flat voice stating a very obvious possibility.

“But you’re not,” the staff member said. “You were smart enough to get yourself out of the situation.”

Finally, their manager opened his mouth. He stretched a finger out to start speaking, lips parting as he exhaled- but the words were caught in his throat. “He shouldn’t have to-” he was silenced by the snapping stare of a producer.

Niki, the youngest in the room, wasn’t sure if he had a say at all in this conversation. By looks, he was the strongest- sure. Tall, muscular, glaring gazes that could instill fear in those that didn’t know him. But in situations like this, when they were discussing safety and technicalities, he wasn’t sure what to say. In his head, it was a simple- if the members needed protection, the company should be able to provide it. They had the money, they had the resources and they had the means- so what was stopping them? His brain scrambled and ultimately, he found himself crouching in front of Sunghoon, back resting on his legs, watching the argument continue- he was disgusted.

“Are you realising there are worse people out there?” Heeseung was still yelling. He wasn’t sure how to lower his voice- he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, heart thumping angrily against his chest. “One day, one of us will go missing because of your poor security-”

“The security we give you isn’t poor,” one of the producers insisted.

Jake was never passive during such arguments. He had anger issues- quite mild, the kind his members and people on the internet could securely point out and tease him for. But behind closed doors, when it was needed, he was the one pointing fingers, raising his voice, yelling and demanding respect. Then there were times that he was quiet when he was simply- refusing to speak, just sitting there with hard eyes, a clenched jaw and fidgeting fingers, deep in thought. But that night? He didn’t know what kind of angry he was- it all almost felt comical, unbelievable what their management was saying.

“You’re being serious?” Jake’s eyes widened at the producer. “So, all the mobs in the airports, all the times people have literally engulfed and pulled us apart- that’s great security, right?”

Dumbfounded, Jungwon reached for Jake’s arm. “Hyung-”

“No, he’s right,” Heeseung nodded. “You throw in a few bodyguards and call it a day- but are you realising that it's borderline traumatic?”

Their bodyguards were huge, burly men. They could push people away with a flick of their fingers- and they were grateful for that. They wouldn’t know how to survive in the public without them. But then there were the times when the management would simply allow them to be touched, being mauled over as some sort of stunt. And then they weren’t grateful anymore, suddenly aware of the fact that they were no longer human- they were pawns in a sick web of Korea’s biggest entertainment industry.

“We know you do it on purpose sometimes,” Jake’s voice continued to raise. “The extra journalists, the extra crowd that records us-”

“It’s dehumanizing,” Jay said, his gaze still on Sunghoon. “It’s not right.”

“It’s all for a reason,” the staff answered. “You’ll thank us for it, one day.”

The room, in fact, became louder than it did before- Sunghoon didn’t realise that could happen. And he almost felt guilty for even bringing it up. Maybe he should have forgotten the incident, forgotten the way his blood went cold when he realised his safety was compromised. But now, in the process of defending him, his members could get in trouble. And their management was not shy about punishment or probation.

People were talking over each other now, pointing fingers and throwing curse words like they were tennis balls- well, it was mostly the members cursing. The management was only feeding them threats of overworking them, not giving them enough breaks, adding onto their already packed schedules.

“We’re going to wake you up early for an extra hour of practice tomorrow,” the staff stated, blankly, as though after all that had happened, the members were about to obey.

“Do you think we’re kids?” Heeseung scoffed. “To threaten us with early bedtime?”

Jungwon almost laughed. “This is a joke, right? We’re talking about our safety here. Our lives could possibly be in danger-”

Jake didn’t really know what Jungwon said after that- he was already out the door. It slammed behind him, locking, and it took a hot second for Sunoo to open it and call for Jake who was already halfway down the hallway. He felt bad for ignoring Sunoo’s calls, guilty. But in that moment, as he realised the insignificance in the hierarchy he and his members were placed in, he couldn’t care less.

He first went back to his room, changing out of his sweaty and grim pyjamas and into something presentable. Then he put on a jacket, a mask over his face and a cap on his head and he was out of his room again and made his way towards the lift, hands stuffed in his pockets as fists, the anger refusing to leave his brows.

Having had a room on the top floor, when he entered the lift, it was empty. The white lights flickered and they strained Jake’s eyes. As it descended, more people spilled in and out, oblivious to Jake’s identity and fame. It felt good to not be recognised when he didn’t want to be. But the elevator ride felt long, stopping between every third floor because someone was either getting on or getting off. Until finally, it was only him and another girl in the elevator, waiting to reach the ground floor.

She stood sideways, leaning against the metal wall so her side profile was visible to Jake but he didn’t pay much attention to her. He simply stared straight ahead, awaiting the ping of the elevator (that felt like it would never come) and for the doors to open (which felt like it would never happen). He was sure she didn’t pay much attention to him either, her eyes trained on her glaring phone screen, the external world deafened by earphones that were feeding music into her ears.

She probably didn’t realise how loud her humming truly was but Jake could hear it, the undeniable melody of a Kendrick Lamar song that he and his members loved to listen to during extended car rides. He cracked a smile that was hidden behind his mask, letting his eyes glance towards her for a brief second. She, too, was wearing a cap similar to his, her hair pushed back so it wouldn’t fall on her face. She wore a short denim skirt, pantyhose and one of those shoes that had thick soles that added a few inches to height. Her shirt was long and loose, a thick brown flannel.

It was like looking at the female version of himself.

Well, that was all it was. Jake didn’t pay much heed to it- he simply stared at the elevator doors again, wondering how much longer they’d have to stand in its godforsaken awkwardness. But then he heard it, unmistakably, the tune of a vaguely familiar song- his song, their song, slipping past her lips-

He shook his head. There was no way.

It could have been any song, or maybe his ears were deceiving him. But then the words “like a fever” slipped out of her throat and there was no more denying it.

For a moment, only because of the events of the night, Jake got defensive. His muscles tensed and his eyes froze on the elevator buttons- a few more floors and he would be out of there. He wanted to trust that he wasn’t being followed, that this random girl didn’t in fact know of his identity. And he wanted to trust that his features were hidden by his mask and his cap. Surely, people weren't crazy enough to actually harm him, right?

He thought back to all the horror stories he’s heard other idols talk about before. How once, when a few members of TXT were on a v-live and a fan knocked on their hotel room door- she had followed them, tracked them down and wanted to speak to them as if it was the most normal thing to do. And another time, a few members of BLACKPINK had been given presents by their fans but it was found that there were cameras in them. There were stories about some fans stalking and finding the addresses of idols’ houses, sneaking in and taking pictures. And then there was the old tale of how the entirety of EXO was almost kidnapped by their bus driver.

Why was he thinking of all of that? Something similar happened to him, too. Someone took pictures of him sleeping on a plane and uploaded them on the internet. He woke up to the news in utter disbelief and horror and suddenly, he felt unsafe- icky, weird.

It was insane.

But surely, Jake wasn’t being stalked, right? The chances of something like this happening to two people on the same night was lower than seeing a double rainbow… right?

But then, he thought back to all the good memories he’s had with fans- the ones who asked him interesting questions during fanmeets, the ones who were respectful of his personal space and didn’t touch him while taking pictures, the one who made him spotify playlists and bought him his favourite albums, the ones who made funny and supportive posters for him to laugh at during concerts and the ones who approached him cautiously if seen in person. He once bumped into a pair of ENGENEs at a Prada shop and bought them perfume- like he promised.

Unintentionally, without meaning to, his eyes softly trained on the girl in front of him, his lips started to move. And the words spilled out of his mouth before his brain could even stop him.

“Are you an ENGENE?”

The air that circulated around the elevator stilled and Jake almost regretted it. His hands balled up beside him, chewing his lips in anticipation as the girl looked up in confusion. Brows furrowed, lips crinkling into something of a purse, eyes narrowed.

He was barely audible but you heard him and had to take one of your earphones out. The other one continued playing FEVER by ENHYPEN and your brain couldn’t process what was happening anymore. It was funny, really, for your brain to still be comprehending the song’s lyrics while reading the expression of the man beside you through only his eyes. First, they were wide with anticipation, then they softened, crinkling- perhaps because he was smiling behind that mask.

There was no question about it- it wasn’t something you needed to mull or think over. Your brain didn’t buffer trying to figure out who this man was. You just knew- beneath that mask and his cap and his baggy clothes and his eyes that shone under the nasty elevator light- you just knew.

“Jake?”

He continued smiling as your voice lowered in disbelief, squeaking into almost a whisper. You could imagine it- his smile- wide and toothy, filling half his face. From all the videos you had watched of him and his members, all the edits and reels, his face was etched into your imagination. A fragment of your imagination, a corner of the internet you never thought you’d ever meet because you either weren’t that lucky and could never afford their concert tickets, was now standing in front of you, an unwavering softness in the way he looked at you.

Then you actually looked at him, took him in. Taller than you, burlier than you had expected, skin a bit glowy under the elevator lights. He was dressed a bit suspiciously, not that you noticed him, with the mask and the cap- like it was obvious that he was trying to hide himself and gave himself away too easily. He wore a gray sweater, a black pair of jeans that were layered with more fabric (your friends would definitely call them questionable), a puffer jacket and chunky shoes,

Your eyes that were trailing down his frame snapped back up again to meet his eyes.

“Is it really that cold?”

The second you asked the question, the elevator doors opened (finally) and a burst of cold air entered the space they stood in. Your hair blew to the side and Jake’s expression changed into something of a grin, a meek regret of sorts. The music in your earphones started playing the instrumentals of XO (ONLY IF YOU SAY YES) and suddenly, the weight in the atmosphere shifted and the two of you were left… just staring at each other.

Jake took steps forward and you walked backwards, exiting the confines of the elevator and onto the streets, phone still gripped in your hand, music drowned out by his gaze on you. The streets were dark, a lone cherry blossom tree letting its petals wilt onto the road. Street Lights glow dimly and the pedestrians walking past you were so oblivious, so clueless to what had just happened.

You… were standing in front of Jake… a literal idol, a celebrity. And the most embarrassing part? You failed to recognise him- he recognised you.

You knew about a million people that would be jealous of you in that moment. You knew about a billion people that would kill to want to be you.

What did that mean?

You felt yourself shiver, suddenly aware of how thin your flannel was and the lack of coverage on your legs with a sheer pair of pantyhose. “Oh, God,” you breathed, crossing your arms and holding your flannel closer to yourself. By that point, the music playing from your phone was forgotten. Your earphones were tucked into your pockets, eyes looking past Jake’s shoulders trying to avoid eye contact.

You felt so… awkward. You had no clue what was appropriate to do in such a situation. Say hello? Introduce yourself? Bow? Walk the fuck away?

“Are you cold?” Jake, despite his question, was already ridding himself of his puffer jacket, carefully slipping his arms out of the slots of the sleeves.

“Oh… No- I couldn’t-”

“Here,” he stretched his arm out, holding the jacket out to you. He seemed genuine, almost persistent with the way he blinked at you.

“Jake…”

“It’s alright,” he stepped closer to you and draped the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers grazed your collarbones, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. And then he was gone as fast as he had come- a respectable distance between you once again. “Better?”

Your words choked in your throat, not sure of what to say. How would you give it back?

You nodded.

“It’s always good to meet a fan,” he said, seemingly out of the blue. “What are you doing out so late?”

You simply stared, lips parted, uncomfortable by the fact that he could read your expression so openly- every twitch of your eyes, every shift of your lips, every bat of your eyes. He, on the other hand, stayed hidden, like some sort of enigma- but he wasn’t. He was Jake. you knew that.

“Walk,” you managed to say. “Going for a walk.”

Jake knew that this entire exchange between him and a fan would get him into trouble- especially considering the events of the night. He was already on thin ice- storming out of the hotel without permission and all. He was sure his phone was being blown up by calls and messages, trying to get a hold of him. He hoped they’d give up. He was feeling rebellious that night, in the mood to deliberately get on the nerves of his management.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Jake didn’t exactly wait for you to respond. He simply started walking as if it was the most natural thing he could do. You watched him walk past you, making his way towards the footpath, an adorable skip in his step which you couldn’t admire because of the weight manifesting in your head- you were stressed, anxious.

You caught up to him.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?”

The question reached his ears with distaste- he didn’t like that a third party, a fan, knew he could potentially get in trouble for this. For whatever he was trying to do- run away? Make someone angry? Ruin things for himself? He wasn’t sure anymore. It felt like he had just discovered free will.

“Well, no,” he admitted with a sigh. He walked with a steadiness to him, allowing you to catch up with his stride. “Do you have a name I could call you by?”

You hesitated. “Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.”

Wasn’t it the job of these idols to flatter their fans? To make them blush, giggle and fall off their face with the premade scripts and dialogues to use while meeting fans? You didn’t know whether it would be appropriate to assume that Jake was on the job- he looked like he wanted to escape. And he needed someone to cooperate with him.

“You’re gonna-” you licked your lips and sucked in a breath. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

Jake smiled at her. “I’m not,” he lied straight through his teeth and past his smile- was it fake? Was it genuine?

You were confused. For the first time, finally, you allowed yourself to be confused. You were confused by the fact that you were following him, confused by the fact that he wanted to follow you, confused by the predicament you found yourself in. You could never even imagine yourself in such a situation- in all your daydreams, during all those times you let your thoughts wander when you were bored.

This was real. This was happening. Jake, in all his glory, with his smooth accent and happy-go-lucky attitude, was walking beside you- with you.

A few minutes ago, you were a normal girl with a boring life who was flown into town by your company for a business meeting.

Were you supposed to call yourself lucky?

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask-”

“That’s alright,” Jake cut you off. “You can ask me anything.”

You pursed your lips. “Right,” you said. “Why?”

“Why, what?” Jake gave you his signature titled-head of confusion. You found it adorable. But you couldn’t react to it.

“I really do think you’ll get in trouble.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“You really are a terrible liar.”

Jake stopped to laugh. He was actually laughing, squinting his eyes and clutching his chest as he threw his head back in laughter. But it wasn’t one of those loud laughs- it was soft, his giggles making you feel giddy too. But you just watched him as he adjusted his cap, a broken grin on your face.

“Fine, I’ll be honest,” Jake said and you hummed. But he didn’t continue immediately. He stood there in thought, wondering how to phrase his words. Jake really didn’t know how to put it lightly. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, though?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. And you scoffed as well, giving him a look of disbelief. “Yeah, I got you.”

“We got into a huge fight with the management,” he admitted, continuing to walk again. The streets were empty. Obviously no one would be walking around at an ungodly hour- no one but you and Jake, apparently. “And I walked out. Angry. And I just… I guess, I couldn’t care less at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and, well,” he continued, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t think I’d meet a fan in the lift. It’s always fun to meet an ENGENE, you know? My mood just instantly got better when I realised you were listening to FEVER.”

You- not someone. You.

“I don’t know how much you actually keep up with us-”

“Oh, well,” you cleared your throat, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. “Not that much-”

“That’s alright-”

“I love your music,” you continued to say, almost defensive from the embarrassment. “And I watch all the youtube videos and stuff- but I’m not really… uhm, well. I’m not the type to keep up with your schedules. I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“No, I get it,” he chuckled. “You’ve got a life and all. As it should be.”

“Yeah, I’m here on a business trip, actually.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jake nodded. “But I don’t know if you know. I once said that if I meet ENGENEs in public, I’d buy them Prada. I’m just sad I can’t do that for you now. Considering the night.”

“Prada?” Jake could see the way you smiled, wide and with teeth, perplexed by what he was saying. “A bit much, no?”

“Never,” he shook his head. It was like his smile was permanent- because of you or because he was just Jake, you didn't know. “Is there anything I could get you right now, though?”

Your heart thumped. “No, that’s really not necessary.”

“No, I insist-”

“Jake, seriously, no-”

“You know I’m not gonna stop pestering you until you let me get you something.”

You exhaled. “Fine. But you pick.”

You didn’t know how you managed to even talk to him for so long without embarrassing yourself. You wanted to scream and giggle- but was any of it appropriate? Did any of this make sense- you walking and talking with Jake?

Five minutes later, Jake stopped at the first store he saw that was open- a convenience store. He led you in, hand hovering over you but never touching you. The cashier didn’t pay attention to you and played on his phone because who on Earth was wandering the streets at 2am? Jake followed you to the freezers at the back of the store- ice cream.

“This is kind of depressing,” Jake let out a breath, a chuckle along with it as you bent down to look through the vast amount of variety.

“Why?”

“Do you see the difference between Prada and convenience store ice store?”

You didn’t respond to him, instead pulling out a chocolate cone. It was cheap, it was familiar and it would hit the spot. Nothing could compare to chocolate ice cream.

“I’m getting this,” you announced, holding it in front of him. “You?”

Jake shook his head and placed a hand over his stomach. “I’m not really hungry.”

You looked at him with your lips tugging downwards- almost disappointed.

“What?”

“I’m not eating unless you’re eating.”

Jake, defeated, exhaled as he bent to look through which ice cream he wanted for the night.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest. Firstly, because you seemed to have loosened around him- not antsy, not flustered and not fidgety and stiff anymore. You finally looked comfortable wearing his jacket and speaking to him when he didn’t speak to you first. You had accepted the situation- accepted him- with no more paranoia. And secondly, because he hadn’t interacted like this outside his members in a while- domestic, plain, ordinary. In that moment, as you waited for him to find an ice cream and while you stood holding your chocolate cone, giddy and excited, you were just two people- a boy and a girl keeping each other company. An unspoken promise, a quiet understanding. Friends.

Jake settled for a grape lolly and you walked towards the cashier. He paid for it like he wanted to, a wad of crumpled dollar bills pulled out from his pocket and placed on the counter. Then you were out the automatic doors, engulfed by the cold of the night and warmth of the city lights again. It didn’t feel lonely anymore.

“Happy?” You asked while peeling off the wrapper.

“Sure,” Jake rolled his eyes.

Before unwrapping his lolly, Jake took his mask off. And it almost knocked the breath out of you. Because for the first time that night, Jake was no longer a half-covered figure. You could see him now- his lips, his nose, his cheeks that welled up when he smiled. He glowed differently, bright and alive.

“Like what you see?” His voice wasn’t muffled anymore.

He caught you staring, wide eyes as he innocently looked at you, as though his words and his attitude didn’t bring a burst of butterflies into your stomach.

You didn’t answer him. You simply kept walking, lifting your chocolate cone to lick a strip.

“Are we headed towards a particular destination?” You asked, watching him from the corner of your eyes as he bit into his lolly.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, hissing from the cold on his tongue. “Unless you want to go somewhere.”

“No,” you shook your head.

And the conversation led nowhere. And the pair of you continued to eat your ice cream, pacing each other's footsteps, shoulders almost touching- almost not.

“What do you think of me, Y/N?” His voice was smooth, accent rolling off his tongue, eyes trained on the footpath in front of him. He asked confidently, not batting an eye, not regretting.

When you stuttered, he turned to look at you, lips wrapped around his lolly. You felt like collapsing.

“I… I don’t know you,” your voice muted to a whisper again, shying away from his gaze.

Jake chuckled. “Of course. But of whatever you do know of me…” he trailed off, indicating his question again.

“I think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve met.”

“Oh?”

You weren’t lying, you really weren’t. Because all your life, you’d met a lot of people and no one was ever as nice to you as Jake was being right now. He saw you without you needing to grab his attention- he chose to walk with you, he chose to have you as company and he chose to buy you ice cream when he didn’t have to. Not many people would be willing to do that for strangers.

It was nice to not be sidelined- for once in your life. You were tired of being seen through like you were some ghost. Tired of being ignored and tired of becoming invisible the moment someone more charming or attractive showed up.

God, how you were dreading the meeting tomorrow morning. You already knew how it would go- your voice would get lost in the room, your presence drowned out by louder, shinier people. The only time you were ever shown respect was when you raised your voice, when you got angry or sharp. You hated that version of yourself.

But not with Jake. Around him, you could be quiet- and still be seen.

“And from the few videos and interview clips I’ve seen,” you continued. “You seem like a great friend- a great person, honestly. Funny, caring, considerate. People see the way you look out for your members. And how you care about… just, everything. Kids. Animals. I think you’re great, Jake.”

Jake didn't really say anything to you. He just nodded, knowingly, a shy smile on his face, a hand to his heart. Then he giggled delicately, bringing his arm up to cover his mouth.

“But you can be a try hard sometimes.”

“Stop being a tease.”

You laughed.

Then he looked at you again, licking his lips before pulling his bottom lips between his teeth. Your stomach collapsed with butterflies again. “Tell me about yourself.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Oh, come on,” Jake coaxed. He nudged his shoulder with yours and that was the first time he properly reached out to touch you. It felt different. It almost didn’t feel real. “I wanna know. Tell me.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked, suddenly self conscious. Your mind blanked because- what was so interesting about yourself that you could talk about?”

“Anything,” Jake nodded, confidently. He finished the last of his lolly and flicked it in a garbage pan you walked past. You threw your trash too. “Hobbies? Childhood? Family? Anything.”

“Okay.”

And so you told him. You told him about your childhood and the cozy neighbourhood you grew up in. You told him about your family- your average, not perfect but not broken family. You told him about your obsession with sharks growing up. And you told him about your obsession with languages which led you to perfecting random languages by the time you were a teen. You told him about your habit of reading- how, if you tried, you could finish an average sized book in a day. You told him about your obsession with horror and true crime.

“Of course.”

“Shut up.”

Then you told him about highschool. You told him about your closest friends. You told him about your past relationships- how you hadn’t really been with anyone since eighteen. Not because you didn’t want to but because things just never seemed to work out. You told him about college and how you somehow loved writing college essays because things were just more interesting, more widely accepting.

“God, I hated the citation part of essays.”

“Me too. But technology makes it easier.”

Then, you told him about how you discovered ENHYPEN in the first place. It was through an old high school friend, a girl you no longer spoke to but thought of every time you listened to GIVEN-TAKEN because it was the song she played to introduce you to them.

“Do you have a bias?”

“Would you be surprised if I said it was you?”

Somehow (your legs hurt and you wanted to sit), the pair of you sat on the ledge of a bridge, feet crossed and arms leaning back. The river flowed calmly beneath you, hair tossing your hair. Your conversation shifted to you explaining a behavioural psychology theory that had never made sense to you and Jake listened, intently, his eyes trained on yours, lips pursed.

Jake thought you were pretty. Now that he actually got to see you, talking comfortably, using animated hand gestures- he thought you were cute. He liked the way your eyes crinkle when you got excited about something you were talking about. He liked the way you kept shrugging to adjust his jacket that was on your shoulders. He liked the way your feet swayed while you spoke about something passionate. He liked your voice, clear and steady and touching all the perfect notes. He liked the way you looked up in thought when you tried recollecting a word that was on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly, as he observed you, taking in the frame of your body and the expressions of your face, Jake realised what he was trying to do. And he understood the softness that came with his actions, why his heart kept skipping a beat when you said his name and why his breath hitched every time you made eye contact.

With a shaky breath, while you were still ranting, Jake removed his cap to card his fingers through his hair.

You weren’t talking anymore.

You were looking at him, finally taking in his bare face. No obstructions, just him and his beautifully sharp features and silky hair. His hair was long, almost bordering a mullet. It grew past his eyes and brushed against his lashes. The wind kept bothering him and you could see how he struggled with it- he kept running his fingers across his hair to adjust it. Then he looked at you, hair still blowing past his face, at your sudden silence.

“I like your hair?”

“What?”

“Your hair,” you said. “It’s nice long.”

Jake, absolutely stunned, could only blink at you. Then, with some sort of confidence, he leaned closer to you, pointing a finger to his hair. “Do you want to touch it?”

You almost flinched and leaned back but Jake stayed in position, looking at you with a cheeky smile and glistening eyes. Slowly, you reached your fingers towards him, the tips of your fingers making contact with his hair. Then, you slowly let your fingers be buried in them, racking your hand through his hair once, then twice, exhaling when you realised Jake enjoyed the act- you touching his hair. He looked like a puppy.

You retracted your hand.

“It’s soft,” you said and Jake sat back, holding his cap in his lap. His features twitched as his hair slapped his cheeks. You giggled. “Do you want a hair tie?”

“What?”

“A hair tie,” you said, slipping the band off your wrist and showing it to him. Jake mumbled something grateful to you and took it, reaching up to tie his hair in a very short pony- a half updo of sorts. A few strands of his bangs hung loose when he looked at you, finding approval of his hairstyle. You chewed on your bottom lip watching him. “You look nice like this.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded and looked away, afraid of the proximity of his face, of his body, of his touch. Were you allowed to feel this way? To yearn for something you knew you couldn’t have? It only made sense to be cautious… right?

“Your turn, Jake.”

“What?”

“To yap,” you grinned, staring at the endless expanse of water in front of you, a blanket of stars above you. “I did, now it’s your turn.”

After some thought, Jake talked about the only thing he knew to talk about- physics. Well, he was lying, he could be talking about so many other things- his family, his fans, his members, his time in I-Land, the management, their big fight before he stormed off- but he didn’t want to bother you with those things. He wanted to be stuck in a space of comfort and ease. Where he could lean into you to get that shy expression out of your face again because he liked it. He didn’t want to see you pity him- not you, not tonight.

So, he talked about Schrodinger’s cat and why black holes could kill you and how stars eventually burst due to nothing but its weight collapsing within itself.

Through it all, you listened with a nodding head and attentive eyes, occasionally asking him a question when to get him to elaborate. he didn’t know it and you wouldn’t tell him (because it was unusual enough, this whole predicament) but you savoured his accent. The Internet talked about it all the time- how they wanted more of Jake in English, how they wanted more of his accent. And you experienced it all, right beside you, indulging you in his life.

Jake ended up talking about Australia. He told you about the occasional barbeques with his brother and dad, the way he used to stroll the streets with his skateboard and how his dad took him fishing all the time. He told you about his mom and his older brother and how their age gap was often surprising. He told you about Layla and the pottery bowl he made for her (which you knew because of their EN-LOG video but you wouldn’t mention it). He told you about his favourite food and his favourite brand of wine.

And the pair of you were walking again because someone mentioned that it was 4:30 am and that it was probably best to head back. Neither of you wanted to. Neither of you moved for a minute, just staring, sometimes at each other and sometimes at your hands.

“You have a performance in the morning.”

“And you have a meeting.”

On your walk back, your hands kept brushing and your shoulders kept bumping. Eventually, his pinky had hooked onto yours and you didn’t push him away. You let his warmth creep onto you as he bit his lip and looked at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. You wanted to believe it was innocent, just something cute between a fan and an idol but then he intertwined his fingers with yours and you weren’t sure anymore.

You weren’t sure how to react anymore. You weren’t sure how you weren’t already combusting from the inside out.

It was like you were two people newly in love, unsure of how to act, unsure of how to show appropriate affection.

But was anything about this appropriate?

Jake wished he wasn’t an idol- for the first time since he debuted, he wished he weren’t an idol. He’d gone through so many scandals, so many marring allegations and so many laugh worthy rumours but through it all, he was proud to be an idol. Even while arguing with his management earlier, he was proud to be an idol. But somehow, to have his hand in yours and still know how the night would end, had him wishing he wasn’t an idol anymore- that he was never one in the first place.

Because he knew- everyone that was an idol knew- that happy endings weren’t written in their books.

If he were a normal person with a normal job, if he weren’t famous- he would have asked for your number by then. He probably would have asked you out on a date. He probably would have kissed you right in the middle of the street. But he couldn’t.

And suddenly, he was the unfortunate idol that caught feelings for a fan- a fan who made him feel safe, feel heard, feel seen. And suddenly, he was the unfortunate idol who stopped living in oblivion.

He brought this life upon himself- unusual, controlled, wired.

To both of your dismay, you reached the elevator of your hotel faster than expected. And you shuffled in, hands still tangled, his chest pressed to your back- the proximity between you was inappropriate, frowned upon. But did he care? No. Were you going to stop him? No. Not when his hair was tied back like that, not when his breath was fanning against your neck.

“Which floor?”

“Seventh.”

Jake insisted on walking you to your room. You didn’t stop him. He followed you, cautiously behind your step.

And when you reached your door, you didn’t reach for our key card. You just stared straight ahead, hands dangling beside you. Jake leaned on the wall, his arms crossed, waiting- teasing.

The night was either going to end or drag into eternity.

You didn’t want it to end.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“If I open the door, are you going to follow me in?”

Yes, he wanted to say. But that would be too forward. So instead, he asked, “do you want me to?”

You looked at him through your lashes, lips pulled between your teeth.

“Would it be wrong?”

He almost whined, eyes rolling in annoyance, tongue peeking past his teeth to lick his lips.

“Please, Y/N.”

So you opened the door and Jake held it wide enough so both of you could slip past it.

The pair of you were now engulfed in the darkness of your hostel room. The air conditioning slowly turned on. The curtains ruffled.

Jake turned to you, his hand wrapping around your wrist. He tugged you closer and you went limp against his chest, knees giving out as you clutched his shirt.

Neither of you really had to say anything. You walked towards your bed in unison as he stripped his jacket off you. Then your head hit the pillow and he was holding your waist, fingers wrapping around your skin, to guide you to the center of the bed.

“Is this okay?” He asked, just in case- after everything was already said and done and your legs were twitching with heat and anticipation.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Your smile was the only confirmation he needed.

Slowly but confidently, his chest crowded over you and he straddled your hips, slightly hovering so his fingers could unbutton your flannel. He was holding his breath, really, curiosity building on what you could possibly be hiding under that flimsy flannel of yours- the one that didn’t shield you from the cold and the one that left everything to his imagination. But when he saw you, finally, with your flannel unbutton, you tits threatening to spill out of your bra-

“Shit.”

Jake retreated and your eyes followed. He was standing again, hands moving to remove his sweater and there he was- shirtless, his abs staring at you in all their glory. And you didn’t move, not because you were too paralysed to but because you chose not to. You simply chose to admire him that way, breath heaving and necklace dangling off his neck.

“Jake…”

Within no time, he was on top of you again, face fanning against you, noses touching. And then it approached, the moment both of you had been shamelessly thinking of. His head tilted and his eyes fluttered close and there it was- his lips on your lips, soft and plump.

He stayed that way for a moment, savouring the carve of her lips, a low rumble of a hum escaping his throat. Your heart was calm now, to your surprise, brain quiet as your eyes screwed shut. And you just stayed there, hands laid to the sides of your head, body awkwardly stiff, wondering what would happen next.

Because you were kissing Jake from ENHYPEN- it was unreal, unbelievable.

You couldn’t process it. So you didn’t. Whatever would happen would happen. And you would look back on the memories in haze.

Finally, Jake moved. His lips parted and he was coaxing your lips open, kissing your harder, with more fervour. And he shifted, brows furrowed, hips moving to grind into yours. His hands came up to pin your wrists above your head.

The softness in him was replaced with passion.

Things, however, didn’t go fast.

Jake took his time.

He used every ounce of strength, every flicker of need- but he was patient. Your bra slipped off slowly, almost reverently. Your skirt was unbuttoned with care. Your pantyhose didn’t survive though- he struggled with it and tore it off with a muttered curse that made you laugh into his shoulder.)

But the rest… he savored you. He kissed his way down your body- your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, even your ankles. Then, slowly, he made his way back up.

He worshipped your body like it was something sacred. He mouthed at your breasts, sucking gently at your nipples, coaxing sounds from you- soft at first, then louder, more desperate. And you gave in so easily, so willingly- so compliant. It drove off the walls- he almost growled.

And when he finally fucked into you, it wasn’t rushed. It was precise, intimate, almost maddeningly slow. He held himself back, not letting his own desire override his focus on you.

He memorized everything- the way your breath caught, the crack in your voice, the way your eyes squeezed shut as your body welcomed him. The bounce of your chest with every thrust.

He adored you. Not just your body, but the quiet kindness it held for him- the way you opened up to him, gave him space he never knew he needed.

When you came together, it was a crescendo- messy, beautiful, overwhelming. He collapsed beside you, his breath tangled with yours, his hair clinging to damp skin.

And then he looked at you. It was a look you were almost certain was love. But you didn’t let yourself believe it. You couldn't.

So when he kissed you again- softly, slowly, his hand warm against your jaw- you just closed your eyes and let him and let yourself. Open mouths, tongues colliding, moans mixing into one. And he kissed you until he fell asleep, his naked chest pressed onto yours, an arm loosely hanging off your waist, fingers drumming against your back.

But you didn’t sleep- simply stared at the ceiling. Because if you did, it would mean the day was over. And you weren’t ready to let it go just yet.

But the inevitable was meant to happen.

You knew about a million people that would be jealous of you in that moment. You knew about a billion people that would kill to want to be you.

[whyeverr]

Red Brick Ranch

This right here is my childhood Christmas: a wood paneling, artificial tree, opening presents on shaggy carpeted floors kind of Christmas. This particular simple ranch home isn't based on either of my grandparents' homes, but it might as well be. I've made divinity in that kitchen. I've watched the snow fall out that picture window.

Ranch homes get a lot of slack for their datedness and lack of character. But I'm here to defend them, especially at Christmas. In fact I almost called this one Rudolph the Red-Nosed Ranch, but that felt a little too on the nose. They might not be anyone's Pinterest-perfect dream home, but as home ownership becomes more and more unobtainable, a simple ranch starter home might just be your dream come true. That goes double for disabled folks, or older folks aging in place, as their single-story floor plan makes them one of the most accessible types of homes available!

This home might be perfect for: a single mom who works two jobs, grandparents (mine, specifically, but also maybe your sim's?), sims that use mobility aids, in your story or in actual gameplay, should we ever get such a thing, or developers looking to paint some brick, slap down millennial gray laminate floors, and flip this bad boy...

Lot details:

Lot Type: Residential (3 bed, 2 bath)

Price: §33,470

Size: 40x30

Location: Miner Mansion, Evergreen Harbor

I’ve used from all packs freely here. As always, no CC!

Download links and floor plans below the cut 🎄

Download via the Sims 4 Gallery or tray files via Sim File Share. You’re free to do whatever you want with the place but please don’t re-upload or share without credit. Thank you!

[thestarsaboveme]

Song About Me

masterlist

sylus x reader | fluff/comfort

this was a request from a kind anon♡

tw/cw: mentions of excoriation disorder (skin picking), self-consciousness, scars, anxiety

note: sry, this isn't proof read. it's really late, and I wanted to post this before going to bed. so, if you read "stylus" instead of sylus anywhere. no you did not. (I hate my phone for auto correcting sylus to stylus every single time...)

You didn't want to leave your room.

The light through the window felt like it had too many eyes, like it touched every inch of your skin too closely. You had worn long sleeves all week, even when it was hot, even when it made Sylus frown with concern and offer you chilled water bottles or suggest taking a break under the shade.

But today...today it was too hot, too unbearable, and when you finally caved and changed into something short-sleeved, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and froze.

Red. Pink. Scabbed. Scarred. A trail of silent battles you never wanted the world to see. They stared back at you like flaws written in bold, like accusations you couldn't defend against.

You heard a soft knock at your door before you could retreat again.

"Y/N?" Sylus's voice was careful, warm. "We were gonna grab ice cream, remember?"

You hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of your sleeve.

"I'm not really feeling like going out anymore, " you called back, trying to sound casual.

There was a pause, then the door creaked open just slightly. Sylus peeked in, his white hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The moment his gaze settled on you, his expression softened.

"Hey," he said gently, stepping inside. "Is something wrong?"

You opened your mouth, Closed it. Your throat felt too tight. You didn't want to explain. Didn't want to say, I feel uneasy in my own skin. I hate how I can't stop. I hate how I think people are looking at me at every opportunity.

But Sylus had always been good at reading silence.

His gaze flickered toward your arms, exposed now, and his brows drew together, not in judgment, but concern. He didn't stare. He looked. Just once. Then returned his gaze to your face.

"Bad day?" he asked, voice quiet.

You nodded.

I can't hide it today," you whispered. "And I know people are going to stare. They always do. I can feel it...I can't stand it."

Sylus stepped closer, but didn't touch you yet. He always waited.

"You know." he murmured. "when I first met you...I thought you were the strongest person I'd ever seen."

Your laugh came out bitter. "You must've been looking at someone else."

"I wasn't," he said simply. "You don't have to bleed in battle to be fighting. What you deal with, it's not small. It's not something you can just "willpower" away. But you wake up and keep going, even when your own skin feels like the enemy. That takes strength. And bravery."

You swallowed hard, heart squeezing.

"I just wish I could look normal," you said. "Even just once."

Sylus shook his head gently, and this time, he reached out, slowly, deliberately, fingertips brushing your hand.

"This is your normal," he said. "And there's nothing shameful about it. Not one scar, not one mark makes you any less beautiful to me."

Your breath caught.

His hand slid down, fingers lightly tracing one of the older scars on your forearm. His touch was featherlight. Not afraid. Not judging.

"You don't flinch when you touch me," you whispered.

"I never will," Sylus promised.

You blinked fast. Your eyes stung.

"Don't you think it's gross?" you asked, so quietly you hated yourself for even giving voice to it. "That I do this to myself? That I look like this?"

His answer was immediate.

"No."

One word, so firm it left no room for argument.

Then softer. "I think you're human. And I think you're in pain sometimes. And I'd rather be here, holding your hand through it, than let you carry it all alone."

You stared at him, lower lip trembling

He stepped even closer, until his forehead touched yours.

'"You don't have to hide from me. Not ever."

Something in your chest cracked open a little at his words.

And when you leaned into him, he wrapped you in his arms like you were something to protect, not something to fix. You pressed your face to his shoulder and let yourself breathe.

He didn't say anything more. Just held you, one hand rubbing slow circles over your back.

You weren't suddenly healed. The marks didn't vanish. The fear didn't evaporate.

But in Sylus's arms, under his quiet strength, the noise faded for a little while. And that was enough.

[devilishcupid]

BROUGHT TO JUSTICE | Bruce Wayne

☆ premise: you knew you had to do something after the joker killed jason, even if bruce wouldn't be able to save you.

☆ pairing: bruce wayne x fem!wife!reader

☆ warnings: gore descriptions, hurt no comfort, angst, death depiction and mention

☆ a/n: been a while since i uploaded a fic on this account. so many drafts and i couldn't focus on finishing bc i kept going back and forth lol. anyways, forced myself to finish this bruce fic i've had since last year. didn't have a specific bruce in mind writing this, hope you enjoy!

'He was never going to stop. You did the right thing,' you told yourself. You spared Gotham of further terror at the hands of the psychopathic clown. He didn't deserve to live—not after he murdered the one you held most dear.

"What did you do?"

You snapped out of your trance-like state, looking up to find Bruce standing in front of you in his costume. Only now, you became aware of the cold metal of the crowbar in your hands. Only now, you became aware of the crimson blood that covered you from head to toe. Only now, you became aware of the lifeless body of the Joker lying at your feet.

"I only did what you couldn't do." You said as you dropped the crowbar, the sound of metal hitting concrete echoing in the abandoned warehouse you had lured the Joker into.

"Why... why did you do this?!" Bruce yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders, trying to process how you were able to commit something even he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Because you didn't save my Jason!" You spat at him, your salty tears mixing with the blood splattered on your face before dripping down your chin and onto the ground. "You didn't save our boy—"

"Do you really believe that's an excuse to take a life?!"

Your jaw clenched at his words—you couldn't believe Bruce was using his stupid code of honor to defend letting that good-for-nothing maniac live after what he did.

"He tortured your son to death, and you let him get away with it." You hissed, venom dripping from every word you said. "And it's not just Jason. He terrorized the citizens of Gotham for too long, and the only thing you ever did about it was put him in a damn asylum he'd eventually escape from."

Bruce's lips formed a thin line across his face, unable to give you a response. From the looks of it, you could tell he knew you were right—at least about the never-ending cycle of Joker escaping Arkham and the Batman putting him back in.

"You know why I couldn't kill him." He finally settled on.

You let out a throaty chuckle laced with disdain for the man in front of you, shaking your head at your husband's simplistic reply. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have to—not anymore, at least. I did all of this for you."

Before either of you could say anything else, blue and red lights pierced through the broken glass windows of the warehouse, and the sound of sirens got louder. You could hear the screeching of car breaks, followed by Commissioner Gordon's voice booming, "This is the GCPD, and we have you surrounded! Come out now!"

"You should go," you said, having already accepted your eventual arrest by the Gotham City Police Department the moment you had put your plan into action.

"I won't leave—"

"It will look bad if they see you here," you interrupted him. "Right now, you're not my husband. You're the Batman. Unless you want to be the one to turn me in, I suggest you go now."

Bruce stayed quiet, knowing he couldn't save you from your predicament. Everything that led up to the Joker's death all pointed to you. It was almost as if you wanted to get caught with how the clown's death mirrored Jason's; you didn't bother to cover up your tracks, either. They may not be as useful as they should be in this crime-ridden city, but the GCPD isn't incompetent enough to not connect the dots.

"Just go, Bruce. Please. I don't want you to see what happens next." You planted a lingering kiss on your husband's cheek—careful not to get any hint of evidence on his suit—before heading towards the warehouse entrance to face Commissioner Gordon and his men.

The squelching of entrails and blood beneath the soles of your shoes followed your every step as you inched towards the door. You gripped the rusty handle with a bloody hand, taking a deep breath. You heard the sound of rustling behind you and look back to find the Batman already gone.

If it wasn't for the wailing of the police sirens, you swore you would've been able to hear a pin drop from the shock Gordon and his people had when you stepped foot outside the warehouse.

You raised your hands in the air, showing the entire unit of police officers undeniable proof of what you'd done. Confusion contorted on some of the officers' faces while others lowered their weapons, all of them unable to wrap their head around how one of Gotham's most esteemed socialites ended up covered in blood from head to toe.

"Sir, what do we do?" You could hear Officer Montoya ask hesitantly to the GCPD's renowned commissioner.

"Arrest her."

Next thing you know, your face is pressed against the pebbly ground and cold, thin metal is wrapped around your wrists behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you could see the feet of officers walking past you and into the warehouse.

You're brought back on your feet and walked to the nearest police car. Before you're put inside, you hear one of the officers shout—

"Fucking hell, she killed the Joker!"

Once you're seated in the backseat, the car starts moving. The sounds of the engine and the sirens filling your ears, almost deafening. You look out of the window, and you spot the silhouette of the Batman atop of a building against the moon's bright light.

You couldn't help but smile a little to yourself. As much as you did it for yourself, you did it for him. Now, the Batman didn't have to worry about a psychotic clown terrorizing Gotham City.

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Valentine's Day approaches you and Joel grow closer with the help of one motor-mouthed teen who is unable to keep a secret.

Warnings: Language. Vague reference to SA.

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

February 2024

As it turns out, friendship with Joel isn't so bad. You do your patrol shifts together, brushing Turnip and Pepper out in the stables afterward. Some days, Ellie will be there, waiting at the stables for you and Joel.

Ellie and Joel's relationship makes your heart squeeze. The days with her in the stable almost feel like you're looking into a window that leads to the past. The curly brown hair and warm laughter of Sarah consume your mind as Ellie tells another bad joke.

You had mentioned Sarah one day, casually while Ellie had her focus pinned on Shimmer. Joel had clammed up, refusing to even meet your eyes at the mention of his daughter.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry, about Sarah."

Cold air shot up your nose as Joel's eyes fixed on Turnip's mane.

"Tommy told me, years ago...I'm so sorry, Joel."

You watch how his hands squeeze the brush until his knuckles are white. A stuttered breath escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

"Don't want to talk about it."

You open your mouth to speak again, but Joel shoots you a glare that sends a shiver down your spine and you drop the topic entirely.

It'd been weeks since then. Valentine's Day was approaching and parts of Jackson were bursting with old decor that had been scavenged.

"So what's the point of this holiday, exactly?" Ellie asked you as she sat on top of your kitchen counter.

The fourteen-year-old seemed to be obsessed with being around you even when Joel wasn't. Twenty minutes ago, she'd shown up at your front door claiming that she was bored and Joel was napping.

"Uh, I guess to show appreciation for people you care about." You say, trying to think back to the Valentine's celebrations you'd witnessed years ago.

"Well, I appreciate you." Ellie says, "Does that mean I gotta bake you something?"

"No, it's more like...romantic stuff." You say, "It's really marketed to couples. Us single gals are out of luck."

You pour a mug of tea for yourself. You'd give Ellie some but last time she had spat it out and deemed it to be "warm piss."

"Well, you could always ask Joel, y'know." She says casually.

You nearly choke to death on your tea at the idea.

"Joel? Joel's got the romantic composition of well...a constipated elephant." You cough

Ellie laughs in agreement, "I just thought....you might have to make the first move with him. He spends a lot of time looking out the window, just staring at your house. Like it's gonna blow away with you in it one day."

You think about how Joel and Ellie live directly across the street from you. Was Joel seriously peeking through his curtains hoping to see you on days neither of you were on patrol?

"And how do you know so much about romance? You read tons of cheesy novels in your spare time?" You huff

"No! He just seems into you!" Ellie groans, "And I've only read a few romance books..."

The next day at the stables, Ellie asks Joel what his outlook on Valentine's Day is. Ever the gentle soul, Joel voices his opinion.

"Just a day for big-shot companies to make even more money."

Ellie glances over at you with big eyes, "You said it was about romance and appreciation of others."

"It is." You defend your opinion while looking at Joel and his stupid greying beard. Why was he like this?

Joel scoffs and looks over at the two of you, "Appreciation of someone else's wallet you mean."

"So negative, Joel." You huff, "I've never experienced a real Valentine's Day, sorry if my unrealistic views bothered you."

Joel watches as you finish brushing Pepper before stomping off in the direction of your house.

"Looks like you're in trouble," Ellie says from his left.

"Just saying my thoughts. Not my fault she's mad." Joel dismisses

"Well considering I told her you're into her, I bet that Valentine's wallet comment wasn't what she wanted to hear..."

Joel spins around to look at the brown-haired girl who has turned to baby talk Turnip and say that Joel smells worse than the stables themselves.

"You did what?"

Joel hasn't felt this embarrassed in years. Where did Ellie even get the nerve to just spill his secrets all over town?

Joel wasn't even sure how he felt about you and now he had a child trying to set him up with you. Ellie didn't know a damn thing about the past and here she was running her mouth. Honestly if Joel didn't care about her so much, he'd hang her upside down from Jackon's flag pole and leave her there for a few hours. Damn kids, always getting into shit they weren't supposed to.

"And Ellie told her? About your window watching?"

"It's not funny."

Joel's eyes snapped up to his younger brother, whose eyes were swimming with amusement.

"It is." Tommy shakes his head

"Not if she thinks I'm some...freak." Joel sighs as he looks down at Tommy who has made himself at home on Joel's couch.

"This is the same girl who used to cry when she got drunk and then openly tell you about how hot she thought that Wolverine guy was? Trust me, Joel she doesn't think you're a freak." Tommy dismisses Joel's fears.

Joel sighs, Tommy doesn't get it. You'd been unreachable in Joel's opinion. Sure, the small talk and patrol shifts were nice but it wasn't real. Anyone with half a brain could tell you were holding out on Joel.

"She was here in Jackson when you showed up, right?" Joel asked

"Yeah. I didn't even know she was here until Maria dragged her over to see me one day."

Joel nods, "She ever tell you how she got here? I mean it's a long way from Texas to Wyoming."

Rigid silence settles around the brothers as Tommy looks at Joel, the amusement from earlier gone.

"I don't know all of it...but I can tell you what I do."

There are few comforts left at the end of the world. Of course, you should never discount the fuzzy feeling of a new book and clean sheets can bring a person. Freshly showered, your hair pulled up by a towel, you've just settled in for the night when a loud knock at your door rings out through your empty home.

The knocks continue as you groan and plod down the steps. It had to nearly be 9:30, who could be bothering you at this hour? If you opened that door and Ellie was there, you were going to march her back across the street and tell Joel to put a leash on his kid. You liked her, but there was only so many puns you could take.

You swing the door open and your voice sounds more like a hiss as you speak, "What?"

To your surprise, it's not Ellie but Joel who stands there. The soft glow of your porch light makes him look a bit younger. His jacket is zipped up to his chin and his hands are stuffed in his pockets.

"Can I come in? We need to talk and I'm freezing my ass off out here."

You sigh loudly, "I was getting ready to go to bed."

"Won't take long, I promise." Joel's sincere tone says

Begrudgingly you step out of the way and let him in. He stomps his boots out on the welcome mat before entering, at least you won't have to clean up little water puddles when he leaves.

"What's up? If Ellie's asking about baking cookies again, tell her I still need to get more sugar and butter."

"It's not about cookies." Joel says, "Can we sit down?"

You take his appearance in, in better lightening, you can see how disheveled he looks. His hair is out of place like he's been running his fingers through it. His face is solemn, serious, and missing the soft edge it normally has whenever he goes on patrol with you.

"Fine." You sigh, pulling the towel from your hair.

You settle in the armchair that sits across the couch he's made himself welcome on. Your wet hair drips cold drops down your back and you squirm a bit, regretting your choice to let it down.

"You went back to my house?" Joel starts off, "After outbreak day?"

You look at him in shock, how could he possibly...Tommy. That fool couldn't keep a secret for shit.

"I did..." You say slowly, unsure of how much he knew

"Why?" Joel asks

"I dunno...I guess I thought you might come back. Plus, I didn't know where else to go. I uh, stayed in your basement for a couple of months. Thanks for finishing it, by the way, made my stay way easier."

Joel looks at you, his face unreadable, "Tommy said you ended up back in Pittsburgh, in the QZ til it fell in 2017."

"Yeah, I got back home to see if my parents had made it. After I saw my home had been burned down, I ended up in the QZ."

Joel nods, "I'm sorry for all the questions, I'm just...trying to figure out how the hell you ended up here."

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, "I wish I knew, I'd credit it all to good luck though..."

"Tommy won't tell me how you got out west, said he didn't know." Joel prods

Your blood runs cold, it's true, Tommy doesn't know. You'd told the younger Miller brother that you'd traveled with a group before Maria found you. Technically you hadn't lied.

"I um...um..."

You hadn't told anyone about your time with Adam, the Walrus, or any of the men in that group. You tried not to think about it, blocking it out as if it had just been one bad dream.

Joel surprises you, leaning forward and taking your shaking hands in his. His skin is just as warm as you remember, a bit rougher than the last time you'd felt it twenty years ago.

"There were...these men. They found me somewhere in Illinois I think."

Your throat feels dryer than the fucking Sahara Desert right now. You want to push him away, throw him outside into the snow, and slam the door in his face. Yet you can't even bear to pull your hands from his, you focus on the way his thumb rubs circles on your palm.

"They took me further out west with them...used to make me..."

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to look at him right now. Your tongue fumbles in your mouth, unable to tell him what happened to you. Warm tears fall past your eyelids and Joel's deep voice is soothing you,

"It's alright, sweetheart. Don't gotta say anymore."

You open your eyes again to look at him. Sadness lines his features as he looks at you. You sniffle, trying to keep your nose from running,

"I escaped one night after tricking one of them into loosening my restraints. A couple of weeks later Maria found me out by the dam starving and hallucinating. She brought me in and then helped make sure I didn't die."

Joel nods and squeezes your hands in his, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." You whisper, a shaky breath leaving your lips

"I should've gone back for you. Took you with me to Boston. None of it would've happened." He says sternly

"It's too late to wish about what could've happened, Joel." You remind him

"I know that...I just, I wish things had happened differently." He sighs, "Never would've broken up with you if I'd known what you were gonna go through."

"No one knew the world was going to end." You point out

"You needa quit makin' excuses for me." Joel shoots you a glare that you can tell he doesn't mean, "Yell at me a bit, woman."

You rest your forehead against Joel's, not intending to do any of that.

"I don't yell at people I'm friends with. We can save the fight for another day."

The front door slams open and a gust of freezing cold air whirls in. Ellie stands in the doorframe, a thick purple coat sits on her body as she rushes in.

"Joel? What the fuck? You lock me out of the house and then go off to make out with your crush?"

You jump away from Joel, mourning the way your hands feel cold without him around them.

"Ellie, what are you doing here?" Joel sighs like just her presence exhausts him.

"I went to that movie night that Maria runs, remember?" Ellie says, closing the door and tossing her coat onto the hooks by the door, "We watched one of the Star Wars movies. I think Maria said it was episode 4, I don't really know what that means though."

"What'd you think?" You ask, hoping she doesn't mention you and Joel's earlier position. You're eager for Joel's attention to be off of you.

"It was fine. I liked that little droid Luke has."

"You mean R2D2?" You ask

"Yeah, his scream is funny."

"Always liked Obi-Wan." Joel muses, thinking of the movie.

"Which one is that again?" Ellie asks

"He's the old guy, Luke calls him Ben at the beginning, Joel probably likes him cuz' they're both old." You explain

"Hey." Joel nudges his foot to yours, apparently not liking your insult.

You listen to Ellie give you and Joel her full review of Star Wars. Joel smirks at you when Ellie mentions something about the possibility of Luke and Leia dating. Oh how shocked she's going to be.

"Let's get going, kiddo." Joel's voice is soft as he interrupts her when he sees your eyes droop shut.

Ellie huffs a sigh of frustration but goes to slip back into her coat. Joel reaches out and gently pats your knee, he wants to let you know he's letting himself out.

Unresponsive and clearly tuckered out, you're dead to the world as Joel says your name. He sighs and turns to Ellie, tossing her the keys.

"Get ready for bed. Brush your teeth." He says to the girl

"Yeah, yeah." She shrugs him off before walking off, shutting the door behind her

Joel sighs and pushes his arms underneath you. He can't let you sleep in this armchair, you'll wake up with an ache in your back.

He carefully goes up the steps, you in his arms bridal style as your head rests on his chest. A soft wheeze escapes your nose and Joel feels his mouth turn up into a small smile.

A warmth bubbles up in his chest as he lays you down in your bed. He pulls the soft covers up your body and picks up the book you'd left on the other side of the bed.

Joel runs a hand through your still-damp hair, taking in the hint of greys that weave through it. It's as soft as he remembers and smells like oranges.

He lets his heart take over as he leans down, ignoring the slight pinch in his back as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He pulls away and looks at your sleeping form again. The soft light of the lamp on your nightstand gives you a youthful glow.

His hand slips down your face and he runs a thumb across your cheek. The feel of a faded scar there has a frown etching across his features and in the moment Joel decides to make a promise, a promise to himself as well as you. Here in the warm glow of this lamp and the secrecy of your bedroom, he promises he'll never let anything hurt you again.

Next Chapter

Shorter chapter but...

I PASSED ALL MY FINALS!!!

Somehow survived another semester. I'll be updating more frequently now :)

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @iinaths

[psychotrenny]

i dont really care if my Getting Places Machine gets its paint scratched, its a fuckin car. im putting pro palestine shit on it either way. i think its so weird to care about if somebody scratches or keys ur car like i literally dont GAF its a fucking CAR

As a response to my post about the foolishness of putting stickers with a controversial subject matter on one's car, it's interesting how this ask ignores the explicit mention of windows getting smashed and implicit hints at all the other acts of petty sabotage that can impact the ability of your "getting places machine" to get you places.

And like, it's not as though using your car as a vehicle of political messaging is entirely worthless; in a minor way (very very minor when we're talking about the scale of a single individual) by physically demonstrating support for a particular position it can help embolden fellow supporters and discourage political opponents. The problem is that a similar effect can be achieved through many other means (i.e. wall posters or bus shelter stickers) which leave you much less exposed to personal retaliation, are much less costly if the medium of the message is itself attacked and can be scaled up in an organised manner (if such an organisation decides that this is a worthwhile expenditure of resources and manpower) in a way that automobile paraphernalia simply can't. Spreading messages on the tiny scale of an individual automobile signals personal adherence to a cause more than it actually supports said cause. It's more meaningful for politics as sub-culture rather than politics as concrete action

It's also funny that this ask specifically mentioned "pro-palestine shit" because before I made that post I was talking about this subject with my partner. Its stance on this issues basically boiled down "I was thinking of putting a Palestinian flag sticker on my car, but I don't want my window getting smashed for no real benefit". I must emphasise that it is a communist party member that has repeatedly risked its own bodily freedom and safety by participating in, leading and organising Pro-Palestine rallies; this stance is clearly based on pragmatism, not cowardice.

And now I don't really care if someone chooses to use their personal automobile for the purposes of micro-scale political display. It's not as though I have the power to make some random person on the internet stop anyway; I'm not their mother or their teacher or their commissar. But I do think its strange that they feel the need to justify themselves, that they consider this form of ineffectual individualist signalling to be worth defending against the criticism "kind of a bad idea isn't it?". I can't help but wonder if they're more concerned with affirming their personal qualities as a "good person" who supports a "good cause" and less concerned with advancing the cause itself

[yeeterthek33per]

Meet you maybe never (Pernille Harder x Magdalena Eriksson x Reader)

A/n Sort of requested. This one's been in the to be done pile for a while, and I wasn't entirely sure about it, but I knew I wanted to write it. Hardersson need more love, and I will go to the grave saying this.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, mild angst (really have to squint bc honestly), Artist R.

Part one in a new series of mine. Let me know how I went, guys.

Part Two

Pernille's sigh of exhaustion holds a familiar weight in Magdalena's mind.

One that she shares greatly, considering she also shares the exact reason for it.

Moving is a pain in the ass.

However many boxes they'd carried up the stairs to their new shared Munich apartment remains to be seen, given that she didn't remember packing this many boxes.

The place has certainly been well maintained, and everything feels brand new too, so they were both very happy with the turnout.

In saying that, unpacking is going to be a nightmare.

Sure, it was a spacious place, and they have several other rooms to work with, but now with boxes in place, their concerns lie with furniture, only being left with a bare mattress and two camp chairs until they could get around to going furniture shopping.

Looking over from her position leant back against the wall, having set down the final box in the living room, she spots her girlfriend lying flat on her back on the cool floorboards, arm draped over her face dramatically.

An amused smile crosses her lips, and she chuckles, moving to sit cross-legged next to the blonde on the floor, hand patting her stomach.

"All good, Love?"

Pernille hums softly, although given the grimace on her face, it's more like a groan than anything.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

Magda holds back a laugh, letting her hand fall to rest on her girlfriend's arm, caressing the skin above where it had fallen to rest over her eyes.

"We'll get there, Love. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"And every single time, I'm reminded how painfully exhausting it is."

The defender simply chuckles, nodding her head as her hand migrates to the woman's hair, gently carding her fingers through the light blonde tresses.

Humming softly, she shifts to lay her head in the younger woman's lap, looking up at her with a small affectionate smile that's returned with a loving look in the swede's eyes.

"Hi."

She playfully taps the defender on the nose.

"Hi."

There's a soft giggle from the light blonde.

"Love you."

Magda's small smile turns into a bigger one as she moves her hand to cradle her face.

"Love you, too."

Maybe moving to Munich isn't all that bad.

--------------------------

"Magda, come look at this."

"One second love, this dining set would go pretty well with-"

She looks around her when she notices isn't beside her.

"Babe?"

She calls out.

"Come look."

She wanders over to where Pernille is pointing, a wall across the street visible through the furniture store's windows.

It's painted in varying stages of forest greens, baby blues, and over the top is a beautiful landscape of what they assume to be the German countryside.

A little cottage on a hill, in front of a rising morning sun, brilliant oranges, and reds contrasting the background greens and blues.

"That's gorgeous, we should go have a look later."

"Let's go look now."

"But we have to-"

Pernille's already out the door before Magda can stop her, leaving the swede to sigh softly and walk back out the door after her excited girlfriend.

The painting up close is intricate with little design details that you wouldn't find unless you looked up super close.

Little details, like the bricks on the little cottage, aren't actually solid bricks but aligned words like quiet, peace and home.

The sun is made up of faintly written words of bright, future, and Pernille tells Magda, the German word for Happiness.

It's feels so planned out and thought out, they spend a long time looking over each detail, feeling every line and ridge of paint on the wall.

A local actually stops to tell them about it when they ask.

It'd been there for a couple years, having no idea who'd painted it. It just appeared one day.

They decide they love the piece, snapping a photo of it to show to family and friends for later.

--------------------------

"Shit."

You barely feel the wall against your back in the cold.

Winter in Germany is not a fun time to be outside, and yet your stupid bored brain decided it needed to scratch an itch right now.

Waiting to be pick the perfect blank canvas, you had to duck behind a bricked off area while wearing your mask.

It covers most of your face bar a small gap for your eyes.

You hadn't exactly been subtle before and you'd already been photographed wearing it.

The last thing you needed right now was the press up your ass, or worse, the police.

Unfortunately, no matter where you are in the world, paparazzi are terrifyingly aggressive.

Quickly slipping away over another wall, you hop over a bin and find a blank, almost white wall, perfect height and size.

Assessing it for a second and checking for anu nearby vantage points that people could see you in and finding none in the low rise area.

You quickly drop your backpack, rifling through the old thing for your spray caps, and move to get to work.

It had come to you earlier and had been what had initially started the itch, said itch having been in the middle of a work meeting that you could not wait to get out of.

There would always be satisfaction in the way the lines matched up and swirled around others.

This time, though, it wasn't just a colourful background to look at.

You wanted to leave something on top of it, and you knew this one would take time.

Thankfully, you knew this area of buildings was mostly abandoned due to high levels of restructuring, so getting caught by locals wasn't an issue.

It was the occasional roaming tourist that gave you worry.

Pulling out a piece of charcoal, you use it to sketch out the baselines, not wanting to get ahead of yourself again, like you had last time when you spent far too long changing little mistakes made by using black paint first, leading to your biggest issue in the first place.

A public image to the mysterious artist of Munich.

Not something you need right now.

Sighing, you roll your head side to side, eyeing up the now line drawing in front of you

It looks pretty good.

It seems frustration helps you work better.

Unlike quite a few of the lackeys you know at work.

You roll your eyes at that.

Popping your achingly cold knuckles, you admire the lines for a moment longer.

This is one you want people to see, like many of your others, only more important.

It was a big thing for you, and you knew it would finally do something for the right people.

Now, just to fill it in and get the hell out of there.

--------------------------

Magdalena and Pernille get a welcoming party with the team.

The captain, Glódís, introduces herself to the pair.

They immediately find the woman incredibly welcoming from the get-go, a warm smile to pair with the kind words and introductions to the staff at the party.

"And finally, you've met him already, but, our beloved man in charge, Alex Straus."

Alex shakes both of their hands.

"Lovely seeing you ladies again, even if it's only been a couple of hours."

He pauses to chuckle softly and then gestures around him.

"I can only hope you're settling in well. The girls are eager to get started on the season with you both."

The nod from the Icelander confirms that with a small chuckle, herself, the lot of them pestering her about the team's newest signings, having to remain tight-lipped until they could meet them in person tonight.

She gestures over to the not-so-subtly excitedly waiting group of women in the room.

"Better go introduce yourselves. Otherwise, I fear they might have my head for hogging you both."

The couple giggle softly at that.

Pernille's the first to settle with the girls.

Having spent four years with Wolfsburg made it so she had to learn German if she wanted to keep up with the banter, so she's into the mix of things quite quickly.

Particularly with the international players who all find immediate common ground with someone who they've played against many times over the years, especially after the most recent World Cup.

Georgia tucks the Dane under her arm, officially claiming her already, and latches onto Magda not soon after, both of them attaching to the Englishwoman right away.

"Finally, after who knows how long of losing to these two at City, I get my transfer here and the find the next season, the ol' captain and striker who gave me so much strife playing against Chelsea, followed me here."

There's so good-natured ribbing, and Georgia pokes Magda in the ribs in particular.

"What, can't take a little Chelsea blue, Gee?"

Magda pushes back of course, competitive as she is.

"Pft, you and I both know Manchester Blue is the best blue."

The swede scoffs.

"You wish, Stanway."

"Nah, it's just facts, Eriksson."

The rest of the group giggles, knowing this fast friendship was going to be an entertaining one.

--------------------------

It seems it doesn't take long.

News of the artwork in Munich spreads like wildfire, catching the attention of your bosses almost immediately.

There was no way they would allow the media team to share this, considering the illegal nature of the piece, but they weren't displeased with it's sudden appearance, nor the traction it's gaining either.

It's a big thing for them.

It means more attention on the club, and it means more support from people because of how much they love the artwork.

That was an ego boost and a half.

Now, as you stare at the image on the projector board, you start doing what you always do and pick apart the piece.

Somethings not quite right with it, you think.

"Ms L/n, what do you think of this new development?"

Trying to appear as though you were paying attention, you look around at the other board members around you.

"I think it's the perfect opportunity for our latest news to gain attention. It certainly won't hurt that those players will gain attention, too."

Pausing to think for a moment before adding.

"Of course, there is always the risk of bad attention, especially from the press, but we can deal with that like we always do."

Another pause for a moment.

You glance over to the projector with the photo of the mural, rubbing your jawline softly, noting that something just felt off about the piece all of a sudden.

The eyes aren't right, there's not enough curve to the jaw.

You can't figure it out yet.

The itch returns for a moment before you continue, avoiding starting up too much on the itch.

"And with the good press, the club will gain more support from fans who will follow the players here, too. We should try and boost the promotion while we're at it. I'm aware the media team is doing the usual, but let's get in on the waves these two seem to be making while we're at it. Does anyone have any ideas?"

A woman further down the table pipes up.

"We can set up for some get to the know the players videos, have some meet and greets, send some of the veteran players with them over to a couple different plazas?"

A soft nod from you in agreement.

"Sounds good. We can let the media team handle the rest. Please. Stephen. Continue."

He nods before flipping to the next item on the agenda.

"Thank you, Director."

Nodding at the man, you turn back to your papers, scribbling small notations every so often, once again.

It seems the board aren't against it.

Good.

For now, you'd just have to encourage the publicity of the piece.

Not yourself.

--------------------------

With training beginning within a couple of days of moving to Germany, it doesn't take long for whispers of the piece to make it to the gossip in the changing room.

Magda and Pernille don't realise what it's about until they ask what all the fuss is.

Some of the younger girls had been fawning over a photo taken from a distance, the piece lit up perfectly under the early setting winter sun.

Catching the sight of it over the shoulder of one of them, they ask about the name attached to it.

Scrawled in the caption, something catches Pernille's eye, having some knowledge of written German.

'Straßengänger'

Streetwalker.

"Who's that?"

She directs the question towards the younger Dutch girl on the team, Jill Baijings.

"Eh, a popular street artist, though they aren't really known aside from the name. Their stuff is really good, though."

She holds the phone closer to the women.

"Have you seen this yet?"

Pernille looks closer at the image, brows raising in surprise, with a soft muttered 'oh'.

The red, blue and baby blue, apparently FC Bayern themed background, made the highly realistic greyscale portraits pop nicely.

It was a promotional image for them.

As in Magdalena and Pernille.

Words scribbled under the image read,

"Welcome to Munich, Magda and Pernille!"

The image itself is beautiful.

It's an image of their faces in what is most likely both stages of goal celebration, screaming with victory, eyes crinkled and wide smiles, paired together over the gorgeous pattern, highlighting it perfectly.

It almost doesn't look real in the photo. But it's still very awe-inspiring to see.

Fans always have the most talent when it came to art like that, and it never ceases to amaze them.

Magda peers over her shoulder beside her, letting her appreciation for the art be known with a low whistle.

"Honestly, you guys will have to see it in person, though. it's so much better when you can get up close to it. All of their artworks always are."

"What did you say the name was, again?"

"Straßengänger."

"What does that mean?"

It comes from Magda.

"Streetwalker. We don't actually know where the name came from, whether it was the artist themself or the locals but either way."

They both nod, humming thoughtfully.

Maybe they would have to check it out.

--------------------------

You know coming back is a bad idea, but you love the piece too much to not come back to it, knowing it would irk you to not get a better stance on anything that might need fixing, despite your best efforts to ignore the itch.

Of course, this time, without the mask on because that be even stupider.

Going back to the scene of the crime wearing exactly the attire that would incriminate you.

Standing back from a distance, you snap a photo under the settling sun in the cooling weather.

Something catches your attention off to the left, a pair walking down the sidewalk, well, more strolling slowly then anything.

Linked arm in arm and bundled far less than a lot of people would be for winter weather, they're wearing coats but braving the cold with thin material pants and shoes.

It's not that that catches your attention, though.

It's more your unabashedly gay side that notices them.

It seems you've caught the attention of your art's subjects.

Because here they are, noticing it finally, standing back admiring your work of them.

You quietly step away, but still close enough to hear the soft murmuring of them, being the only people on the street at this dying hour, you can hear them amongst the small breeze passing over the road.

They're definitely speaking Swedish because you can't make out what they're saying, only understanding the familiar lilt and tone of surprise in their words.

"Det är vackert."

"Varför oss?"

"Jag vet inte men det är fantastiskt."

You're about to walk away when Pernille walks closer to it, running her hand over the dried paint, her eyes moving over the piece slowly.

You notice she's tracing the underlying wording, realising she must have seen your art before to notice it that quickly.

As you keep a subtle eye on her, she's standing in the fading rays of sunlight, giving her a soft golden glow.

Her girlfriend moves to wrap her arms around her and it's then you see both of them a little differently to before you'd seen them in person.

They're absolutely beautiful, together and individually, and you realise you haven't captured that properly with your latest work.

It gives you another itch.

--------------------------

"You know, we have to meet this person."

Magdalena hums softly in agreement, hands running over Pernille's shoulders, staring up at the wall, eyes tracing the lines, the shading and the shape work, particular over the little footballs making up the swirls on the O in Welcome.

Her hand moves to her pupils in the portrait, paying attention to the way they're made up of shining stars.

The same with Magda's portrait.

There's a soft shuffle from behind them, and Magda's head swivels to look up at the source for a moment.

You're standing there, looking down at your phone, a soft smile on your face as you tap away at it.

She'd seen you standing there earlier already, taking photos, so she doesn't pay you much mind in the end, and you turn and walk away, putting the phone to your ear.

Although, there is mild niggle of curiosity, she brushes it off.

You're probably just another tourist looking at the piece.

"Come on, we have to head back soon or we'll start freezing out here."

"Few more minutes, Magda... Where's all those Swedish genes gone huh?"

Pernille teases the taller woman, poking her in the cheek.

Magda rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny, babe."

Pernille chuckles, leaning back into the Swede.

She was right, though.

She had to find whoever did this.

The curiosity was getting to Magda, too.

Why them?

Of any of the influential people in Munich.

Or just any of the women's players.

Why them?

She has so many questions.

--------------------------

"And last but certainly not least, welcome to our newest signings, Magdalena and Pernille. Thank you for joining us and we hope you enjoy your stay here at FC Bayern."

The FC Bayern committee room erupts with a small applause from the players and board members before them who were all called in for a club wide meeting, even receiving a small whoop from Georgia in the back that makes the players around her either chuckle or roll their eyes at her.

"Now, handing off to our creative director."

"Danke, Herbert."

Stepping up onto the podium, the person immediately catches Magda's attention.

It's you.

The woman from the other day in town, at the wall.

There you are, climbing the steps up to the podium, black blazer jacket and blue jeans, half tucked with a white button up and a FC Bayern logo embroidered on the jacket pocket.

Pernille notices it, too.

"Now, I know this probably going to be the boring part but I'll try and keep it simple and just go over what our plan is for the next few months."

Looking out over the group, you keep your best public smile on.

"Don't worry, you don't have to remember any of this, as you'll be reminded as each one comes up so we don't miss anybody."

As you start to list off each of the latest marketing events and programs, your eyes shift over the players in their seats, despite the usually tired response at your while lilted, droning about the business side of things, you make eye contact with a very vigilant looking certain pair.

Your eyes crinkle mildly as you fight off too much of wide smile.

"There's a few meet and greets we want to go ahead with before the start of the season, including our newest signings, men and women, we'll send the details to those involved later."

You pause for a moment, eyeing up the latest of the new men and women in the crowd, placing back on the Scandi couple for a second before drifting and continuing.

"And, finally, we have an unfortunately mandatory promotional event on the third of October. It is also a black-tie event, so even me, who as many of you know already, shows up to everything wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, will have to dress up, please do the same. Thank you for listening everyone."

"Thank you, Director."

Taking a seat back with the crowd, it's almost like you can feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You don't turn to face them, though, already knowing exactly who it is.

After the meeting is adjourned, you stand and ready to leave back to your office when a body stands in front of you.

A familiar tall Swede.

"Hey, I don't believe we've met properly."

"I'm Y/n L/n, creative director here at FC Bayern München."

"Magdalena Eriksson, although you already know that, it seems."

You smile, nodding and extending a hand out to her.

She shakes with a warm but firm grip, leaving the skin tingling a little.

She really is much more beautiful in person.

"It's lovely meeting you, Magdalena-"

"Call me Magda, feels a bit much for a full name, now."

"Lovely meeting you, Magda."

Letting go of her hand, you bid her as polite a goodbye as you can give, knowing any longer and you'd gay panic yourself into a problem, you make your way towards the door.

As you shift through the small crowd of players, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement to those who do know you or have met you, you exit the room swiftly, heart mildly racing.

You'd seen the look of recognition in her eyes, not from knowing who you are at Bayern, but perhaps somewhere else.

You aren't risking it.

--------------------------

First and second training with the team went as smoothly as it could for any new team members.

However, their third is a little less cathartic.

Having to do extra medical assessments and fitness testing before being able to join the team, everything had been hurting that day.

They arrive home to their shared apartment almost completely worn down from the session.

At home, in their new apartment, finally furnished, for the most part, they both agree to get an early night's rest.

Annoyingly though, they can't seem to find it in them to sit still and toss and turn for the next hour or so, both of them in agreement they weren't sleeping right now.

They head out for another stroll through the quieter parts of the city, instead, taking a bus out there for the first ten minutes or so.

Hand in hand, they stroll down the quiet village-esque side of Munich, just breathing in the cool air, occasionally stopping to admire the rustic, olden style.

It's in the really silent part of town that they notice something.

The distinct sound of... a rattling can?

A spray can to be exact.

Pernille nods in the direction of a small alley, Magda initially shaking her head no, not sure if they should really confront someone who could be possibly dangerous or someone associated with the law.

Of course, the Dane sneaks over anyway to peek into the alley.

There, a figure stands with their back to them, hand wrapped around a baby blue can of spray paint.

The painting looks halfway done.

It's a portrait.

Of Pernille.

The woman's eyebrows just about fall off her face at the surprise and she turns back to her girlfriend who's waiting anxiously, looking about three seconds from dragging Pernille to the next taxi back to their apartment.

She gestures quietly to whisper to her over the cold wind howling through the gaps in the buildings.

"It's that artist."

"I figured, but we really shouldn't be associating with them. C'mon, we have to leave."

"Magda, c'mon, this is our chance to meet the person behind that mural."

A bit of back and forth before Pernille peeks her head around the corner to look, again.

This time, though, the person is bent down, rifling through their backpack, and a spray cap.

When Pernille turns back to a now very concerned Magda, she whispers in her ear.

"Just another minute. Just have a look at least."

The Swede very reluctantly agrees, looking for herself.

Concern is the first thing to pop into her mind.

This one is just of Pernille, accentuating the woman's eye colour and bright smile.

Is the artist, infatuated?

A million thoughts an hour as she watches the smooth, almost mesmerising way their hands trace lines and fill gaps.

When you pull out a paint marker to start with smaller details, she turns back to her girlfriend.

"Are they obsessed with us or something? This feels a little weird at this point."

Pernille frowns, almost shaking her head to disagree.

As the woman's about to answer, there's suddenly some shuffling, almost unnoticeable jingling of zippers and a body sat up on a short wall on the other side of the walkway, bag back on their shoulders once more.

"Actually, I'd say it's more an appreciation for a pair of legends in Munich."

They both startle heavily, Magda going into protective mode, arm around Pernille, pulling herself in front of the woman fully.

--------------------------

The pair of them peeking on you were about as subtle as a whistle among bells.

Figuring you'd have to finish it later, you pack up swiftly, ensuring your mask sits on your face correctly before sneaking out of the alleyway to sit up on a wall above them.

After a not-so-much needed scare, you raise your hands in a surrender gesture.

"I won't hurt you. I just figured I should say hello personally since you're both here and all."

Magda looks nervous, and you can see the curiosity in Pernille's eyes from where you're casually seated.

"Although, I do suggest not sticking around. It's going to be a PR nightmare for the three of us if you're seen with the Straßengänger."

You punctuate the nickname with air quotes.

As you're about to jump up to climb onto the rook and make a swift disappearance of yourself, you hear one of them yell out to you.

Hesitating, you turn back to the pair.

"Why us?"

Pernille's brilliant grey-blue eyes look up at you, a radiance of dying curiosity in them as she holds her girlfriend's hand to calm the woman.

You stop for a moment before shrugging.

"A pair of beautiful women in the biggest sport and uprising for women. Why not you?"

It's there Magda gets a unrecognisable look on her face and you decide to leave it there.

With that, you scramble up onto the building, annoyed with yourself for having dragged ALL of your gear with you and also for leaving a half finished work behind.

A day or so later.

Luckily for you, no one else seems to stumble upon your work just yet, and with much scouting and caution, you find yourself back in that alley finishing what you started.

Making sure to adjust the shine in the subject's eyes to fit exactly how they shone up at you the day previously.

This time, the representation of the Danish captain seemed far closer to the spectacle she is in real life.

You're pleased with yourself for this one.

And it's scratched half the itch you'd had days prior.

Now for the other half.

--------------------------

After their sudden meeting with the Straßengänger, Magda and Pernille are left with more questions than answers.

They both agree to just return home for the night, knowing it's a question for another day when they aren't in the middle of an already chaotic media storm.

After that, they get swept up in everything Bayern and put everything about the artist to the back of their minds.

Their first match is approaching fast and Alex already has Pernille in the starting lineup, so she gets distracted in preparation for that, finding herself busy studying the formation and technique of an entirely new team.

So much so, that she almost... almost forgets about the mural maker.

Although...

There's just one question that bugs Pernille constantly, despite her best efforts to focus fully on their new path in Germany.

Magdalena feels much the same.

"Who are you, really, Straßengänger?"

--------------------------

[nysscientia]

today I am thinking about how wonderful it is that Wyll Ravengard is unquestionably Good but he also has flawed judgment

like, there are several little moments throughout the game where you can earn his approval by doing things that have consequences he would NOT want

(minor Act I spoilers) he approves when you defend Auntie Ethel from Mayrina's brothers, even though evidence is starting to stack up that she's not what she appears to be. and if you do, it starts a fight with them—with innocents who are just trying to help their sister.

OR (slightly bigger Act I spoilers) he approves if you take revenge on Kagha over Arabella's death, even if you haven't uncovered the Shadow Druid plot. and challenging her openly like that, without first calling into question her authority, causes violence to break out in the Grove—hurting many of the tieflings he's trying to protect.

this is not at all to suggest that he has "bad" judgment, because I don't think he does. it takes precious little for him to realize that Karlach isn't the monster he expected, even with lots of voices telling him that she is (Mizora, the 'Paladins of Tyr') and a perfectly reasonable justification for dismissing her own self-advocacy (devils lie). I actually think he's very discerning in a lot of situations—like his insights into Raphael and Mol. or an even more direct example (Act III spoilers): the hero's tests with Ansur, where he can just tell you the answer to all but the lanceboard puzzle. he knows what he's about! he's been making these calls on his own, in the frontiers, for seven years!

so part of why I love those moments of imperfect judgment is because I think they're an incredible window into his interiority. they come up in moments where his sense of justice has been activated—where he feels a need to protect; to face down a threat. he's a little more hasty, a lot more willing to gamble, when he feels like the safety and wellbeing of someone innocent is on the line.

and I have no reason to believe this is on Wyll's mind in those moments, but it's certainly on mine: how would his life have been different, if 7 years ago there had been someone around willing to make a foolish mistake for the chance to protect someone who might be innocent?

because when Wyll looked at Ulder, no cultists or battlefield in his wake, wrapped up in a devil and offering no explanations—

Ulder used exacting judgment to protect his city, and banish an infernal threat. he made a call that Wyll himself considers utterly reasonable.

but what if he had done something a little stupid, and gambled on his son?

... so. this post is a love letter to Wyll being the hero that he himself needed, and all the complicated ways that both hinders and helps him

[jewishvitya]

Went to block a transphobe and saw her defending Elon Musk's salute using the idea that he's pro-Israel. I don't want to argue if he is or isn't pro-Israel, I just want to bring back something I wrote before:

"By conflating criticism of Israel with antisemitism, this situation created a reality where showing support to Israel can be seen as absolving you of antisemitism.

"You'll see it in Ben Shapiro's judgment of who's antisemitic or not. He'll see someone being antisemitic, and when asked why he associates with them, he'll say he's not worried about their antisemitism because they support Israel. It happened with Ann Coulter. His response was "Sure, her tweets were bad, but she's pro-Israel, so that doesn't really matter." This is so dangerous.

"Ben Shapiro is always an extreme, but it's not an attitude unique to him. Here in Israel I still remember right wingers treating the election of Trump as a win for Jews because they felt it's better for the relationship between the US and Israel. Completely disregarding the horrible influence he had on the lives of Jewish people in the US and tbh even in other countries. Think how much antisemitism they had to disregard to have this attitude."

I wrote this all in response to tags explaining that a lot of American support of Israel comes from antisemites. Some of them want to use us as a sacrifice for their religion's end times. Others want Israel supported so they can drive all Jews to move there.

This isn't a defense.

Elon Musk engaged in holocaust denial before. He endorsed Tucker Carlson, who engages in holocaust denial and revisionism. I also remember something "great replacement" related?

If someone spreads Nazi shit for years and then performs a Nazi salute, you don't get to call it an awkward gesture. And using support of Israel as a shield, throwing the safety of American and other diaspora Jewish communities out the window, is fucking despicable, and definitely antisemitic.

Finishing with a very bitter joke I made with a friend.

[pancake404]

Thoughts on Chapter 4 of Poppy Playtime

This isn't a drawing like I usually do but since I managed to play Chapter 4 blind without any spoilers, I felt inclined to share my thoughts about Chapter 4.

Right after I first played it, I, of course, a fan of the game, thought it was the best chapter in the series. But after the excitement died down a little, I put some more thought into it and read others' reviews on Chapter 4.

So here are my totally serious opinions you should absolutely think are facts as I am never wrong.

Insane Spoiler Alert for Chapter 4!

Pretty much the Chapter:

The Doctor bullies you and everyone else throughout the whole chapter.

Doey, the ally turned enemy as he tweaks out after we might've caused the Save Haven to blow up.

Every Smiling/Nightmare Critter watched JJK apparently because all they do is JUMP YOU.

We continue the trend of almost every toy we've encountered dying indirectly or directly by the player.

Prototype makes fun of everyone as he pulls the most epic prank and reveals he's been Ollie for presumingly a long time now(who would've guessed) so every plan Poppy discussed should be thrown out the window because he already knows about it.

Huggy is back to give us a warm reunion hug after we kind of unintentionally dropped him fifty stories.

Now starting with the central characters:

Player Character:

At this point, they are without a doubt, questioning their existence as all they came for(presumingly, I'll get to later) was to see if their coworkers were still in the factory by an unknown, vague note. Now, they're tied up in a conflict between the toys and they're helping out Poppy(semi-forcefully as there weren't many options) by killing the Prototype and freeing the..."still alive" human Orphans(X to Doubt) kept asleep by the Prototype.

Their name is still unofficial, where they worked in the factory is still not confirmed though hinted to be one with the lab coats, and even Dr. Sawyer is questioning why they even returned.

I do like how the Doctor questions the player's morals and reasons for coming back since these questions have been lingering in some people's heads as well. It's also been explicitly clear that there's something different about the capabilities of this unknown employee as the Doctor states that he was trying to figure out what made the player so different.

Speaking of the Doctor, Harley Sawyer.

I liked him.

He was a really cool villain with interesting dialogue and his views on the Player as he constantly tests them. His voice, the TVs, his behavior, it all made him terrifying and strangely attractive to certain people in the fanbase.

However, I do agree that there could've been a little more done with the Doctor and the concept they went with. The TVs could function like cameras alerting Yarnaby if we get spotted such as the trailer of Yarnaby implied, we can have optional dialogue from Harley depending on our actions throughout the game(or just more of it), or we could have one main controlled TV robot that Harley uses to defend the system holding his consciousness.

I also do agree that his death was a little sudden and underwhelming compared to the chase leading up to it. You just press a button after running a bit and he screams. Then no more.

But overall, a nice addition.

Yarnaby:

I like Yarnaby as well, it was a shame he died halfway through the game as I would've liked to see Yarnaby try to defend Harley when we tried to shut him down rather than him getting caught/stuck/bit on some chains and randomly combusting into fire...I think we may need some more visual clarity on how that happened unless I wasn't looking closely enough.

But the way he moved and functioned always put me on edge and it fit well to what he was described in the ARG.

Is it bad that I wished the Doctor killed Yarnaby instead to mirror the Prototype killing Catnap?

Pianosaurus:

Dude got cheated so hard.

Like actually, it's kind of funny.

I can see why people were disappointed when his one shot in the trailer was literally his whole screen time before Doey killed him a second later. I think most, myself included, would've preferred if Pianosaurus, someone they've hyped up to be an antagonist for Chapter 4, had an area where we have to survive from him and when he backs us up in a corner, then Doey would've saved us from death. Similar to Miss Delight except Doey is the executioner instead of the player.

Doey:

He was decent.

I have to admit, I don't often get attached to characters such as allies like Dogday, Kissy, Poppy(absolutely not), and Doey is no exception. In other words, I didn't care much when he died.

His story was objectively tragic and he was overall a cool character with cool concepts. The fact that he became hostile to the Player by snapping after the Save Haven was wiped out was also an interesting and yet another tragic twist where the only option now is to kill Doey.

Not surprised he died. I did notice that like Dogday, a lot of the fanbase wished to save Doey as well and some may have been angry about this turn out on him. My response to that would be...it's a horror game, killing characters you like would be the go-to move to ensure it is tragic, disturbing, and scary. It would also show that you can't hope for the best in anything because the game can kill anybody.

Advice: If you like a character in a game like this, just expect them to die...or make a fanfic of saving them as coping.

Baba Chops and the Nightmare Critters:

Clearly, they have a vendetta against the Player if they're this. Fucking. Hostile.

There are hardly any moments with them when they're not just jumping you. But I think a nice edition since you have to use the flare gun more. I had a neat idea where they climb on top of each other into a large mass like a hivemind to make a big monster made up of mini critters but that could still work with Chapter 5, we'll just have to see.

Kissy Missy:

I was kind of surprised she was alive but I do like how despite her survival, she was still badly injured and couldn't help much...not that she helped much in the previous chapters without injuries. But she did try to help the player proving her to be generally a good person trying to help us.

Then again, that also relates to how good of a person the Player is and/or something we don’t know about her.

I'm expecting her to die in Chapter 5.

But first, I was to see a fight between an injured Huggy and an injured Kissy.

Poppy:

So....she wasn't that helpful. She pretty much told us what to do, we did it, then we get blamed for it by Doey because someone(Prototype) screwed over the explosives, he tried to kill us, and we killed him, Poppy then blames us for things we both did and didn't do, Prototype call, and she runs off.

I think in one of the VHS tapes(there are two about Poppy), we see a conversation between her and Ollie which shows us directly that she isn't exactly a cunning, evil betrayer but more of a scared experiment like the rest of the orphans with a very... tunnel-visioned plan and mindset. Or very, very desperate to blow stuff up.

She does run off and abandons the player and Kissy because the case must've sucked that badly which is weird because I would rather prefer being asleep in the case than being anywhere outside of it where toys could rip me to shreds. But hey, it's her opinion I suppose.

I am surprised not a single character had not mentioned or tried to drop-kick her. Killing her shouldn't be that hard...right?

Right...I'm guessing the reason why is because she doesn't stick around enough near the player to even encounter any of the big villains.

Ollie/Prototype:

Let's face it. We all knew it. The only person who was surprised was Poppy herself.

I actually enjoyed the reveal though, I think it was intense but very funny on how it was done.

Poppy blames us and then Ollie calls, the first thing he does is do the Playtime Equivalent of doxxing our location. Dude might as well just said our address over a COD lobby.

Then he pretty much makes fun of Poppy by telling her she needs to stop pretending to be stronger than she actually is(which is true).

Then he makes fun of the player by saying, "I got the bombs, thanks for getting them for me BTW!" as we hear beeping sounds below us.

Does a whole speech before Poppy bolts, abandoning us and he proceeds to make fun of that.

Then the floor explodes and we're in the Labs now.

Either the Prototype is a (10/10) funny character or maybe my humor is broken.

Long Story Short:

It's an improvement in many ways from previous chapters but I, like many others, think there could've been just a couple of additions to make it Peak but there were some good moments. Some good lore drops and information that may or may not have screwed over a couple of Au's(depending on who's in it) but it could be worked around.

They dived way deeper into how terrible Playtime Co. in the inside from both the perspectives of the workers as well as the toys. I love that.

I will still say that Chapter 3 is my favorite even with all of this considered(Because I love Catnap) but I do hope that they truly take their complete time on Chapter 5 to make it the best possible.

Anyhow, I can't wait for Chapter 5 to bring back Catnap(yes, I AM coping), totally bring him back, if Huggy could survive a fifty-story fall, Catnap could either be shocked back alive and/or survive a stab to the head. These toys were able to tank bullets in tapes, they could survive a bit of brain damage(or piercing) and burns.

Man...the Player might not be an "angel”.

[jinx-ism]

When Jinx finds out she's pregnant, the first person she goes to isn't Ekko (even though she knows it should be him, all things considered).

No, it's Vi.

Who, despite everything, is her big sister, and she's supposed to know what to do in a situation like this, right? She was the one who welcomed Jinx with open arms when she crawled back from her hideout after healing her wounds from a fall that was supposed to kill her (and almost did, but maybe all the shimmer in her bloodstream was good for something). Yes, it was Vi who defended her in front of the Council, who encouraged her to get a therapist, who's been there for her even when Jinx didn't deserve it - she didn't deserve to be pardoned, she didn't deserve to sit there when Vi married the love of her life, she didn't deserve all the care and understanding that was given to her by her sister.

Jinx doesn't want to burden Vi more than she already does, but she doesn't know who else to go to.

The Kiramman mansion is massive, way too big for the few people it houses, and deep down Jinx is jealous of it all. Vi had asked her to move in but she had quickly declined, the mansion too grand for someone like her. It's strange enough that she can walk in through the front door instead of sneaking in through her sister-in-law's bedroom window like she did in the past.

(The past that's still too alive in Jinx's memory - the past that sometimes burns, burns so bad she's afraid it's going to swallow her whole.)

She finds Vi in the shared study, engrossed in some papers. She does charity work around Zaun now, working closely with Sevika, and it seems to make her happy. She raises her gaze from the papers as she notices movement from the corner of her eye, a smile spreading on her face when she sees Jinx.

"I didn't hear you coming in," she says, and for some reason, Jinx feels bad at that. It's been hard for her to let go of old habits even though it looks like everyone else is moving on, becoming better versions of themselves.

"I'm pregnant," Jinx blurts out, not meaning to start the conversation like that, but she can't hold it in. She watches confusion spread on Vi's face as she takes in her words.

"What?" she says, eyes studying her little sister.

"You heard me," Jinx whispers through her teeth, afraid that someone else could hear them. Caitlyn doesn't seem to be around, and Jinx is grateful for that.

"How long- Wait, when- Wait," Vi stammers. She gets up from the chair she's sitting on and takes a step towards Jinx who is still standing by the door. "Does Ekko know?"

It's like she knows Jinx.

"I found out like, half an hour ago. I don't know where he is," Jinx says. It's true - Ekko works hard with his Firelights, trying to keep the peace between Zaun and Piltover. He always comes home to their tiny, shared apartment late at night, a smile on his face, exhausted but happy.

"How do you feel?" Vi asks, gentle. She reaches for Jinx and Jinx closes the distance between them, almost throwing herself in the hug Vi offers her. It feels safe, like an actual home, and a part of her wants to cry.

She feels like she's Powder again.

"I'm afraid," she says quietly, the words whispered into Vi's shoulder. Vi's hand touches her hair, combing through the blue locks that are slightly messy and overgrown from their short style.

"That's understandable," Vi reasons. She pulls slightly back to see her sister's expression, placing her hands on each side of Jinx's face. "But you're so brave."

"What if I pass on all the crazy?" Jinx asks, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can stop them.

It's really the only thing she's scared of - hell, raising a kid is nothing but scary, but she managed with Isha (well, maybe Sevika helped here and there) and she knows she now has a safety net around her - Ekko, Vi, even Caitlyn - but what if she can't protect the child from herself?

The voices haven't left her, not completely. Most of the time she can manage with them, pushing them to the back of her mind, but there are moments when they take over. She tries to reason with them but they're so mean, so angry at her, reminding her what she has done. Then there are the nightmares, dreams where she loses everything again and again, where she's ultimately reborn as the Jinx she was. Some nights she chooses not to sleep just because she's so afraid of the nightmares, but then the voices come, and she's trapped in her own head, feeling like a lost fucking cause.

"You're not crazy," Vi says strictly, her words pulling Jinx out of her thoughts. She laughs weakly, avoiding Vi's eyes.

"I dunno about that."

"Hey, look at me." Jinx just can't say no to Vi - that's how it has always been. The look in Vi's eyes is soft, almost admiring, and Jinx feels small under it. "You're more capable than you think."

She is capable, but mostly awful, horrendous things. Jinx feels how her mind runs too fast, spewing memories at her - fights, explosions, dead bodies with bullets from her gun inside them. She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to send the images away with pure force.

Vi pulls her against her chest again.

"When I saw you with Isha," Vi starts, careful. She knows Isha is still a sore topic, and will always be. "I knew you'd made a badass of a parent one day. You're so strong, Pow-Pow."

The nickname has stuck despite everything, and Vi is the only one who's allowed to use it. It's childish, really, and Jinx knows she should hate it, but she doesn't - not when it's Vi.

Vi, who gently guides her on the couch and wraps her arms around her in a soothing hug; Vi, who asks without any pressure what she's planning to do; Vi, who offers to be there when she tells Ekko after Jinx quietly whispers that she wants to keep the baby.