#Eyebrow Tattooing Bradbury

[marcowalker148]

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[deancasbigbang]

Title: Illicit Ink

Author: allmystars

Artist: LamiaSage

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Dorothy Baum

Length: 48000

Warnings: Sex Work, Graphic Sex, Attempted Blackmail

Tags: Alternate Universe, Sex Worker Dean, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Smut, Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Angst

Posting Date: October 26, 2023

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. He does this thing maybe two or three times a week, and he loves it, don’t get him wrong, but… He’s a camboy, and that’s not exactly something he wants shared around the breakfast table. When Dean decides he needs a change, it’s nothing too drastic, just a tattoo. But the hot-as-sin tattoo artist he gets to do the job might just change everything.

Excerpt: Broad shoulders, a trim waste, and the kind of jawline that could cut glass. Dean’s eyes wander to the head of dark sex hair and striking blue eyes that make his heart skip a few beats. But the tattoos… Fuck, they climb up strong, thick arms, wrapping around his biceps and disappearing under the shirt sleeves of his t-shirt. A swirl of blue, a burst of crimson. Twin snakes twisting together around his wrists, the scales almost reflecting the light in some kind of optical illusion. “I would assume you’re my one o’clock?” Blue eyes arches a dark eyebrow as he peels off a pair of nitrile gloves. “You Castiel?” Dean asks, somehow more put together than he thought—maybe he won’t make a fool of himself.  “Mm-hmm,” he hums, crossing the room in a pair of ass-hugging jeans and holy fucking fuck.  “Then I guess I’m your one o’clock.” Dean smiles, but it feels a little awkward on his lips, and judging by the way Castiel looks at him—like he’s not convinced Dean is sane—it’s not nearly as charming as he hopes for. “Follow me, then,” he says, plucking up a folder from behind the counter before turning for the hallway. Dean takes a moment to let his eyes fall to the thick curve of Castiel’s ass, those runners thighs testing the seams of those jeans, before he follows him past the couch and into the hallway.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[big-wet-cas-eyes]

wings: day 3 of @starrynightdeancas 's 2k followers celebration ✨ (ao3)

when i saw the wings prompt, i didn't think i would end up writing meet cute au, but here we are (wc: ~2000)

Thursdays are Dean's favorite day to be at conferences. Usually, there's only a partial day of events, and some people skip it altogether. Once the conference is in full swing, he'll be busy bouncing from talks to lunches to happy hours to dinners with people he only sort of knows. But on Thursdays, he can breathe.

Conferences certainly aren't his favorite part of being a professor. He's kind of a homebody, so the travel and socializing is a little much for him, especially when air travel is involved. But he does like exploring new cities, so he makes the best of it.

That's how he finds himself wandering around downtown Thursday evening. The streets are bustling with the after-work crowd.

Dean pauses when he passes one of those huge angel wing murals that he sees all over the internet. There are a couple of teenage girls standing there posing and giggling. Dean chuckles, and once the girls run off, he snaps a picture of it. His best friend, Jo, loves gimmicky tourist things like that, so he sends the picture off to her, along with a wish you were here text.

"Excuse me, would you mind taking my photo? If you have a moment, of course," a deep voice asks him. Dean looks up to see a man standing there, looking at him hopefully and gesturing behind him toward the mural. He feels his jaw drop open for a second when his eyes rest on the man's face. He's gorgeous. Dark, messy hair and piercing blue eyes that make Dean feel like he's melting into a puddle.

But Dean raises his eyebrow slightly when the question registers in his brain. This guy doesn't really look like the type to want a picture in front of a cotton candy-colored mural of angel wings. He looks to be about Dean's age. He's wearing a full suit with a trench coat on top, despite the summer heat. He realizes he's still staring when the guy clears his throat.

"Sorry for bothering you, I'll find someone else," the man says with a slight nod before beginning to turn away.

"No, no, wait, I'll do it!" Dean says, feeling bad for basically ignoring the guy while checking him out. "You just surprised me. Took my brain a second to process."

The man smiles at him. "Thank you, I appreciate it," he says, handing his phone to Dean. The camera app is already open.

Dean gives him a small smile back. "Not to be weird about it, but you don't really seem like the angel wing mural type."

"Ah, I'm not," he says dryly. Sensing Dean's confusion, probably, he adds, "I sent my daughter a photo of the mural earlier. She's been bombarding me all day with requests that I take a photo in front of it."

Dean smiles wider at that. The man's eyes light up as he's talking about his daughter, and Dean's smitten by how cute it is. "Totally get it, man. If my niece was old enough to text, she'd probably do the same to me." He thinks of little Mary, running around the house in a princess dress and fairy wings as Eileen tries to catch her. Maybe he should take one for her, too. "I've got you." He glances down at the guy's chest and adds, "Take off your badge first."

"What?" the man asks, clearly confused.

Dean pulls his matching conference badge out of his pocket. The lanyards attached to all of the badges this year are a horrid shade of neon orange. "This," Dean says, shaking it slightly, "Take yours off for the picture."

"Oh… thank you," he says, pulling off the lanyard and shoving it into a pocket of his trench coat. He walks in the direction of the mural. He turns and faces Dean, mouth in a straight line.

Dean snaps the photo and frowns. The dude doesn't look happy, despite the joy that was in his eyes when he mentioned his daughter. "Smile, dude! This is for your kid!" Dean says loudly.

The man huffs slightly, but then his mouth splits into a gummy smile, eyes crinkling at the edges. The smile is infectious, and Dean can't help the one that spreads across his own face in response. He takes a couple more photos before he gestures for the guy to come back over. He does and Dean returns his phone.

"Mind taking one of me? Looked at it long enough that I want to send one to my niece anyway."

"Yes, of course," the man replies, taking Dean's offered phone.

Dean smiles and poses (hands on his hips, like a superhero), and there's a good chance the picture captures the laugh that comes out when he hears the other man chuckle.

He walks back over and retrieves his phone. Then, he offers his hand for a handshake. "So I guess we're in town for the same conference. Dean Winchester. It's nice to meet you."

"Castiel Novak," he replies, grasping Dean's hair and shaking it firmly. "It's nice to meet you as well." He pauses for a moment, and his eyes widen with something that looks like recognition. "Dean Winchester. I just read your new paper, Bradbury and Winchester. It was fascinating."

"Hey, thanks, man," Dean says with a grin, "but if I'm being honest, almost all the credit for that one should go to my grad student, Charlie. She's the best."

"Well, it's a testament to your teaching that one of your students can produce such excellent research," Castiel says, and Dean blushes at the words. "I would love to be able to teach like that someday."

"Are you not a professor?" Dean asks. Maybe he misjudged the guy's age.

"No, I actually only recently completed my doctorate. It took a little longer than I'd hoped, but I had to take some time away from schooling for my daughter." Dean nods in understanding. A handful of people he knows had a baby during graduate school and it definitely did not make the experience any easier for them. "I'm beginning a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Kansas next month, though."

"Oh, no way, that's where I teach!" Dean says. When he sees the glint of amusement in Castiel's eyes, he says, "But you already knew that. Because you just read my paper."

"I did. Different department than you, though. I'll be working with Professor Cain."

Dean smiles. "He's great, you'll like working with him." Before he can continue, Dean's stomach decides to punctuate his sentence with a loud grumble. "Uh, any interest in grabbing dinner? I'm starving, and I'd like to hear more about what you do if we're gonna be colleagues soon."

"Sure, I'd like that, Professor Winchester," Castiel says.

Dean scoffs. "You're uninvited if you call me that, Cas. Just Dean."

"Dean. Okay, let's go," he says, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips. They walk for a while, chatting a little about food and the city until they stumble upon a restaurant that sounds good to both of them.

Once they've ordered, Cas pulls out his phone. "I hope my daughter appreciates the picture," he says, swiping at the screen as he looks through the photos Dean took. He might have gotten a little carried away; there's a bunch. "I don't want to receive another photo of her pouting at me."

Dean chuckles. He pulls out his own phone to send his mural photo to his brother and sister-in-law. Cas also took a few, but he selects one where he's laughing extra hard. Took this for Princess Mary, tell her I love her, he texts to accompany the photo. "I'm sure she'll love it. How many pouting photos did you get?"

Cas hums, tapping a few times on his phone as Dean watches. "It appears… six." He turns his phone around to Dean. The name at the top of the text message thread reads Claire🐝 and he can already see two of the pictures. Cas's daughter, Claire, looks a little older than he expected. That, combined with the heavy eyeliner, doesn't make her seem like the kind of kid that would beg her dad to take a picture with an angel wing mural. Cas scrolls slightly and Dean sees a slew of please dad and you gotta! text messages, interspersed with more pictures of her frowning. It's kind of adorable.

"How old is she?" Dean asks.

"Fifteen," Cas answers. Dean opens his mouth, but closes it again when Cas continues, "I know, I don't look old enough to have a daughter her age. I get that a lot."

"Sorry," Dean mumbles. "No need to explain, I was just surprised."

Cas shrugs. "It's okay. Accidental pregnancy with my high school girlfriend back when we were both trying to convince ourselves that we were straight." Cas immediately blushes. "Sorry, too much information. I had already switched out of professional mode for the evening, and I forgot that we technically work together."

"You're in good company. No judgment from me. You won't be the only one out of the closet when you get there." He winks and then grimaces internally. He hadn't meant to start flirting.

Cas's eyes widen and then soften. "Thank you, Dean. I'm glad I haven't made a total fool of myself." His phone buzzes on the table and he picks it up. He smiles that wide, bright smile again, the one that Dean can't help but match. "Claire loves the photo," he says, turning his phone around. It's another photo of Claire, but this time she has the same bright smile on her face as her dad.

"She really wanted you to take that picture, didn't she," Dean says with a chuckle.

Cas nods. "She did. She's a sweet girl."

"Why's she love angel wings so much? She doesn't really… look the type, I guess," Dean asks, his curiosity finally winning out.

"The eyeliner phase is new. She's always loved angels, though. Her mother used to tell her angels were watching over her every night before bed, and I think that stuck with her."

Dean smiles. "My mom used to say the same thing to me. Definitely sticks with you," he says, as he pushes up the sleeve of his shirt. He holds his arm out to show Castiel the angel wing tattoo on his forearm, his mom's name and the dates she was alive in the middle. "Got this for her a few years ago."

Cas reaches out, brushing the edge of one of the wings. Dean shivers a little at the touch, but mostly just because of how soft and gentle Cas's hands are. "It's beautiful, I'm sure she would appreciate it," Cas says. "I think Claire's mom always said it because I'm named for an angel. Claire calls me her angel when she's feeling sentimental." Dean's not sure if Cas realizes that he's still tracing the edges of his tattoo. Honestly, he doesn't mind. The contact feels nice and he feels surprisingly drawn to Cas. His hand stays there until their food arrives.

The conversation shifts slightly, becoming more casual. They talk about their research, the talks they're planning to attend during the weekend, and a little bit about the university Castiel will soon call home. It's comfortable. Cas is really nice and interesting, and Dean's excited that it looks like he'll have a new friend when the school year starts.

A little voice in the back of his head hopes that he'll end up more than a friend, and Dean thinks the feeling might be mutual when Cas grabs his hand on their way back to the conference hotel.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection Day 18: Magical Realism

Runs in the Family | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: General Word Count: 1497 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kid Fic Summary: Dean's new boyfriend, Cas, has been wary about him meeting his child, Claire. Dean gets it, they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas might have more reasons for worry than just a premature attachment.

The Magic of Mistletoes | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1610 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Cas, First Kiss, Fluff, Christmas Fluff Summary: Dean has been coming to Cas’ witch shop for a while now. (Not because of the pretty owner, but to buy things he needed for a hunt, of course. That was the official version, in any case.) When Christmas time rolls around, and an enchanted mistletoe appears in the shop, will Dean get up the courage to act on the magical bond that is forming between them?

secret of the sea | @saltnhalo

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2465 Main Tags/Warnings: Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Selkie Castiel (Supernatural), Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Castiel (Supernatural), First Meetings, Injured Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Dean is ten years old when he finds the injured seal, exhausted and adrift in the moonlit ocean.

Memory Lane | @thebloggerbloggerfun

Rating: General Word Count: 4421 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch!Castiel, Love Confessions, Cursed!Dean Summary: Dean's best friend Castiel is a genuine, bonafide witch with potions and magic spells to prove it. You'd think he'd have learned by now to be more careful around Castiel's things.

A Different Kind of Magic | @thebloggerbloggerfun

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4775 Main Tags/Warnings: Cursed!Dean, Witch!Castiel, Shop owner!Castiel, Summary: Castiel is a witch that prides himself on his healing spells and Dean is that one customer that keeps coming into his shop with a different illness that needs curing. - Castiel looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Well, Dean, you’ve been cursed.” Dean’s eyes widened at the buzzword. “Cursed? What do you mean?” Castiel looked at him sympathetically as he pulled out a small, square bottle. “You either made a witch very angry or made someone that knows a witch very angry.”

A Sacrifice Worth Keeping | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5151 Main Tags/Warnings: Pagan Gods, Pagan God Castiel, Sacrifice Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex God Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Tattoos, Light Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones Summary: The sun rises over the treetops and touches Dean’s face, and still, he waits. The villagers have retreated back to the village to pray, allowing the god his privacy, and it is just Dean out here now. He closes his eyes, tips his face up towards the sun and allows its rays to caress his skin, knowing full well that it could be for the last time. When he opens them again, there is a man standing in front of him.

Into the Dark | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7092 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Creatures & Monsters, AU - Modern with Magic, Witch!Castiel, Cambion!Dean, Summary: Castiel looked at Dean's hand and started towards taking it before realizing what was in front of him. ""How did you get in here?"" ""Little bit of B and E. Nothing's broken. I promise."" Dean smiled, and Castiel found himself enchanted a little. But not that much. ""This place is warded against Demons."" Castiel turned his head back towards Sam and focused on him. ""How did not just one, but two of you get in here?""

Flowers in the Snow | @MsJojo96

Rating: Mature Word Count: 8141 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch, witch!cas, barista!cas, familiar, au, alternate universe, destiel Summary: Dean did not plan his christmas to be this way. Snowed in with a total stranger and his two creepy cats. But destiny has a funny way of bringing people together, especially when one of the two people has it's hands in the bowl.

Stone Bline Love | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8823 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Modern with Magic, AU - Creatures and Monsters, Blind!Dean, Demigod!Dean, Gorgon!Cas Summary: In modern society, creatures are accepted among humans - assuming that the creature can pass as human. Enter Cas, a Gorgon who moved to the city to get away from his judgmental clan, only to find himself judged for the crimes of the ancient past. With the help of a Siren named Charlie, Cas finds home, and a handsome Demigod named Dean.

Burn Out this Love | @spnsmile 

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9389 Main Tags/Warnings: NonCon, Curses, Dubcon, fluff, Romance, jealous Cas, Top!Cas, Bunker Summary: Complete blackout in the Bunker during a stormy night has TFW 2.0 setting up candles in the war room except Dean accidentally lights one of the cursed candles that extracted a part of himself that believes he loves Castiel. A shaman comes to help but not really, resulting in the angel’s short temper and taking matters in his own hands to make Dean remember. Dean did not forget his name after. #written for supernaturalpromptchallenge March prompt: candle:fire

Touch Bonded (WIP) | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9600 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Castiel, Alternate Universe - Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Touching Summary: Whenever Dean gets hurt on a hunt, Cas (his witch friend he has a crush on) heals him with a gentle touch that Dean secretly cherishes. When it happens more and more often, the witch gives him a protection amulet that is supposed to keep Dean from getting hurt. Suddenly, Dean notices injuries appear on Cas, and the witch’s explanations for how he got them don’t make much sense. Being touch bonded to a witch can have its perks too, though, and soon Dean finds a way to turn the tables on Cas and show him how good the right kind of touch can feel.

Ensnared | @saltnhalo

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10359 Main Tags/Warnings: Shipwrecked, Creature Castiel, Sailor Dean, Siren Castiel, Fluff, Angst, Masturbation, Desert Island Summary: As the current pulls him a little closer to the island, the singing grows stronger. It’s deep and lyrical and the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard and he’s suddenly overcome by the desperate, searing need to be closer, to hear it in all its intended glory. And as he passes a single spur of rock that juts out a little further into the ocean than the others, Dean sees him.

No Man's Waters | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 21092 Main Tags/Warnings: merman!cas, merman!Dean, merfolk, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, War, Treason, Touch-Starved Summary: When Castiel is cast out of his territory for disobeying orders for war, he’s left to perish in No Man’s Waters, the treacherous depth between the Garrison Territory and the Huntsman’s Territory. Nothing survives there, and Castiel is barely holding on to life when one of the Huntsmen Merfolk comes to his aid.

Bards and Buskers | @mrshays

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 21620 Main Tags/Warnings: au - modern setting, urban fantasy, museum archivist Castiel, musician Dean Winchester, asexual character, dungeons and dragons mythology, bardic inspiration, quest Summary: Castiel Novak, the archivist for a folk-art museum, has inherited an exhibit from his colleague and best friend, Charlie Bradbury. He’s introverted and only interacts with the public via the museum’s social media, but the exhibit requires him to interview local street musicians. After reading Charlie’s notes on bards, Castiel is reminded of the man he sees at the transit station each morning. Dean Winchester has been busking around the US since his parents died in a car accident, playing the guitar his mother left behind. He visits his brother, Sam, in Palo Alto and funds his next trip playing in a transit station. He would have traveled along some time ago, but a studious man with ocean blue eyes keeps giving him a smile and his pocket money and Dean is ensnared. Will the pair form a more profound bond?

Magic in the Moonlight | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Mature Word Count: 26143 Main Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending, dean has anxiety, mechanic!dean, baker!charlie, bird!cas Summary: Once upon a time a boy named Dean lived with his mother, father, and little brother in a world filled with magic. When tragic circumstances left the young brothers without a mom, their father declared that no magic would touch their lives ever again. Years later Dean’s brother has learned to live with magic again, but Dean still lives on the outskirts of town, choosing to befriend the birds in his backyard rather than try to build relationships with people who use magic for nearly everything in life. But then, one ordinary February morning, two things happen that turn Dean’s world upside down: a magical accident leads to him making a most surprising new friend, and a very out-of-place bird--bright blue with messy black feathers on its head and a rather captivating gaze--shows up in his backyard. Suddenly Dean is facing magic again, in very unexpected ways. Can he fly these turbulent skies to find his happily ever after?

Gardens Of Elembor | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31447 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe Fantasy Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Top Dean WinchesterBottom Castiel Switching Wizard Castiel Elemental Dean Winchester Magic Explicit Sexual Content Magic Summary: Castiel is cast into the world that was his favorite book growing up. He always knew it felt real, but when he finds a talking unicorn on the busy street while on his way to work, he finds himself transported to Elembor and finds Dean of Winchester waiting for him. When Dean tells him he is a powerful wizard, he knows he's lost his mind. It's a world he's sworn to protect, and he takes it seriously. Especially when Dean tells him he's there to kill the beast.

Contracts and crosswords | @wingsandimpalas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 45657 Main Tags/Warnings: Warnings: graphic depictions of violence Mentions and flashbacks to child abuse Tags: Enemies to lovers, Angel Dean, Demon castiel, Lawyer Castiel, Bigotry & Prejudice, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Magic realism, Hate to Love, Social Worker Dean, Drunk Sex, Misunderstandings, Angst with Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Background - Rowena/Sam Winchester/Gabriel, Background Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak Summary: After years of working as Claire’s Guardian angel, Dean's getting ready to let his Charge go. It’s time to let her make a life without him being there to protect her. He probably would have done it too, if he didn't discover that Claire went behind his back making a deal with the infamous lawyer Castiel Gladius. With his past experiences making him wary of demon deals, Dean offers to take Claire's place. Working for a demon he hates, just so his kid doesn’t have too. But will spending 66 days in the presence of the alluring Castiel lead to more than he ever bargained for?

so bitter and so sweet | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 57205 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Magic User Dean, Cop Castiel, Ghosts, Possession, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Curses, Past Dean/Benny, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Referenced Switching, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Dean has known about the family curse ever since it claimed the life of his mother: anyone who dares to love a Winchester is fated to die. When he takes a chance on love and loses his husband Benny, his belief in its power only grows stronger. Two years later, a late-night phone call from his brother Sam sends both of their lives spinning wildly out of control. Then Officer Cas Novak arrives in town, looking into the disappearance of Sam’s girlfriend Ruby, and starts asking questions Sam and Dean can’t answer. Complicating matters even further, Dean feels an immediate, overwhelming connection to the intense, blue-eyed source of their problems. Dealing with all the secrets, the lies, and a brother slowly crumbling under the weight of his guilt doesn’t leave much time for romance, but as Cas gets closer to the truth, he also gets closer to Dean. Inspired by the film Practical Magic.

Lifetime Piling Up | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58916 Main Tags/Warnings: modern AU, tattoo artist!Dean, trauma surgeon!Cas, canon typical violence, fluff and smut Summary: Cas is having a bad day. He burned his bagel, missed his ride to work and had to run to the hospital in the pouring rain, and then witnessed his attending accidentally kill a patient during a routine surgery. Now he might be on the hook for his boss’s mistake, but was it really a mistake, or is he the next target of Dr. Nick Morningstar’s sick mind games? Dean is also having a bad day. His brother nearly set his kitchen on fire, he’s training a new apprentice in his tattoo shop, and then he gets a mysterious call that Sam needs a ride to the hospital after a freak accident in the pouring rain left him with an injured shoulder. A chance encounter at the hospital leads Dean and Cas to each other after a decade of coincidences and premonitions, and suddenly their worst day might become the foundation for all of their best. A story of choice and destiny, and the power of found family, foretold through uncanny tattoos.

The Closest Thing We Have To Magic | @ellen-of-oz

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 221231 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate universe - university, Alternate universe - magical realism, Professor Cas, Grad student Dean, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining Summary: Dean Winchester is a graduate student at Stanford University’s School of the Occult. A naturally-talented mage but a lazy professor and student, he figures he’ll coast through his final year the way he always has: with charisma, charm, and a natural aptitude for magic. All that changes when his thesis advisor, Dr. Castiel Novak, turns out to be the strictest and most challenging educator on-campus. Unfortunately for Dean, the uptight professor is nearly his age and infuriatingly gorgeous. But Castiel is keeping a secret, a powerful talent that’s more a curse than a blessing when he’s targeted by seditious parts of magical society. Can Dean and Cas put aside their animosity—and undeniable chemistry—long enough to instill real change in the magical community? Or will sinister plots and hidden agendas keep them apart?

[searchforthescars]

for the prompts: “i’m so sorry” and you can write for whoever you’re feeling the most ;)

hahahahaha so this took way too long and I’m so sorry BUT it’s almost 4k words so maybe that makes it better??

HERE BE QOAAD SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

So basically after I read the Thule section of QOAAD I wanted to write something in which Livvy comes back to her family. Partially, it’s because it’s an angsty/heartbreaking/wonderful concept, and also because I wanted an excuse to examine Livvy’s trauma.

So here, enjoy. (:

Her family knows she’s coming. They’re prepared; in fact, Tessa says Julian is beside himself with excitement. Livia thinks she’s ready, too. The new Los Angeles Enclave is in Diana’s capable hands. Maia and Bat and all the rest of her council have practically begged her to leave.

Tessa tells Livia that the smart thing, the Blackthorn thing to do was to go. Looking back, that’s probably the thing that convinces her.

“You’re loyal,” Tessa says, brushing a stray hair from Livia’s cheek. “All Blackthorns are. You’re loyal and smart and strong, and you don’t know what to do when you aren’t needed.”

“I’m not,” Livia whispers. “Not anymore. Diana doesn’t need me, and neither do Bat or Raphael or-”

“I know,” Tessa says. “But your family does. Your loss tore a hole in them that nothing can repair. You know Julian wants you there. He invited you once and you said no because of duty. Because of loyalty. But now, I think it’s time.”

Livia nods. Tessa summons a Portal. As Livia steps forward, Tessa touches her shoulder, right above her tattoo.

“I hope there is a day when you no longer feel the need to wear this,” she says sadly.

Livia forces a smile, a tiny close-lipped thing. “Me too.”

Her eyes sweep the sea, the sand, the caves. She thinks of Cameron, his body walled inside the Silent City. She thinks of Rafael and Diana and Maia and all the others that have loved her fiercely, trusted her willingly. She thinks of the scorches in the marble and concrete of the Grove where a body once burned. She thinks of executions. She thinks of victories.

“Go,” Tessa says clearly. “Go, Livia Blackthorn.”

Livia steps forward. The last thing she sees before the Portal closes around her is the sun rising over the horizon of the new Los Angeles.

The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is a very worried Emma hovering over her."You're lucky I didn’t sit up," Livia says, picturing their foreheads smacking together.Her voice sounds rough to her own ears. She was trying for a dry tone, but her voice just sounds...empty.

Emma winces and leans back, allowing Livia to sit up. “You should take it easy,” Emma says nervously. “You ended up on the beach, probably a little dehydrated.”

“I’m fine,” Livia groans. Her head pounds, but she sits up anyway, swinging her legs over the side of the infirmary bed and taking in a room she hasn't seen properly in almost ten years.

She can't make herself think about the Institute or her family or the fact that she is now in a world in which she doesn't truly belong. The immensity of it will crush her. So she looks up at Emma and asks the only question that makes sense in that moment.

"Where is my family?"

In Emma's defense, she did warn Livia that barging into Julian's attic-turned-studio would give him a heart attack. In Livia's defense, she wanted to see her big brother again.

“Julian?” she calls from one side of the door. On the other side, she hears a thump and a crash. “Jules? It’s-”

The door flies open. Julian tosses a paintbrush aside and stares at her.

“You have paint on your forehead,” she tells him after a moment, trying to be normal. Trying to be okay.

“Livvy,” Julian breathes, reaching for her, wrapping her in a hug. Like she did in her office, Livia leans her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of turpentine and paint, cloves and mint.

“It’s okay,” Julian murmurs. Livia’s heart clenches. Is it? “You’re okay now, baby girl. It’s okay.”

She lets him hold her and pretends not to notice when he cries. She wonders, distantly, if she should feel guilty for the dryness of her eyes.

The most gratifying reunion thus far is when Drusilla barrels into the kitchen, grabs a water bottle from the fridge and completely blows past Livia.

“Wait!” she hears Dru shout from outside. “HOLY SHIT!”

“Language, Drusilla!” Julian scolds from near the sink, but he’s smiling as Dru races back into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a chair, and wraps Livia into a crushing hug.

“Are you real?” Dru asks her sister, voice thick with tears. “Are you staying?”

Livia nods, reaching up - up? When did Dru get so tall? - to stroke her sister’s hair. “I’m staying.”

Dru pulls back. Her eyes immediately go to the scar running across Livia’s face. A sudden memory jolts Livia: their mother, standing in the kitchen, her eyes immediately fixating on any flaw in a shirt, a face, a painting.

“You look so much like Mom,” Livia whispers.

Dru reaches out to touch Livia’s cheek. “You look so much like yourself.” She taps the scar. “Except this. How did you get this? It’s so badass!”

“Language,” Julian chides again, giving the pasta on the stove a jab with a fork.

Dru rolls her eyes. “Jules, I’ve heard you and Emma in your room. You use way worse, and way more explicit language.”

Julian groans and mutters something under his breath. Livia can’t help but laugh.

“Come see me soon?” Dru asks. “We have so much to talk about.”

Livia nods. “Whenever you want.”

In retrospect, Livia should have asked Julian why he was cooking. She also should have changed clothes into something this dimension’s Livia would wear. But instead, she wanders the Institute that feels like a stranger’s home, and makes a mental list.

What I Know:

She finds the room that belonged to another version of her without any trouble. It’s right across from Ty’s, the only door with dust on the knob. There are pen marks on the doorframe: her height, and Ty’s, marked out year by year, stopping at age 15.

Livia touches her name. It’s not her given name, but a nickname she hasn’t heard in years. She adds to her list: Everyone called this Livia ‘Livvy’

She opens the closet. It’s modestly full of dresses, long sweaters, shapeless shirts and many, many sets of gear. She can’t imagine wearing any of the dresses. She pulls one from the closet - a green sleeveless dress with a short chiffon skirt and a low back - and laughs to herself. The other Livia liked dresses and gear.

She wanders over to the desk. It’s neat, like her desk at the Bradbury, only with more books: Sherlock Holmes, advanced calculus, computer science and programming.

Something in the back of her mind itches. She reaches for the calculus book and flips it open, batting away the dust that rises up from the pages. The numbers are familiar, but the problems are foreign.

This Livia was smart.

She sits down. The desk chair creaks. Someone other than her must have sat here; the seat is too high. She lowers it until her feet touch the floor.

“You’re shorter than you were here.”

Livia whips around to the door. Emma leans against the doorframe, body language easy, eyes hard. “Sorry,” she says, lifting her hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Livia shrugs. “It’s okay.” She looks down at her hands. Did the other Livia have these scars? “It makes sense. During our formative years, we were malnourished.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. “‘Our’?”

Livia feels herself flinch internally. Emma sighs. “You did that here, too,” she says, almost wistfully. “Talked about yourselves as if you were a unit.”

“We were,” Livia says, almost defensively. Two factions of emotion war within her. On one hand, she dislikes the implied denouncement of her relationship with her twin. On the other, it’s been so long since she’s talked about her family without the conversation surrounding their deaths.

Emma’s eyes go to the desk. “You know calculus?”

“I know math.” Livia cracks one of her knuckles. “I don’t know if I know this much of it, though.”

The corner of Emma’s mouth twitches. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

Livia doubts it, but she doesn’t say anything. Emma turns to leave, then looks back. “Livvy,” she says, her voice impossibly soft. “Don’t worry about trying to fit into a mold of another person. Just be you.”

“I’m not-” Livia chokes on the lump rising in her throat. She swallows, tries again. “I’m not what- who you lost. I want to be. I don’t want to cause anyone any more pain. But I can’t pretend forever. And I don’t know what you want from me.”

Emma twists the ring on her left hand around her finger. Livia sees the thorns emblazoned on the silver band and tries not to smile. “At your core, you are the girl we lost. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but take it from someone who knew you since the day you were born, you are.”

“How?” Livia asks dubiously.

Emma thinks for a moment. “After Julian hugged you in Thule, you touched his face. You patted it, as if the shape of his features comforted you. You’ve been doing that since you were a little girl.”

Livia sniffs, once. Emma strides forward to wrap Livia in a hug, her head against the older girl’s chest. It’s a little awkward with the chair between them, but welcome in a strange way.

“The way you talk is the same,” Emma continues, her chin resting atop Livia’s head. “You stand the same way, too. And there’s a very specific way you say your twin’s name that no one could hope to replicate, even if they tried.”

She pulls back, kneels before Livia, and takes her face in her hands. The Blackthorn family ring is cold against Livia’s cheek. After a moment, Emma takes her hand away, pulls off the ring, and hands it to Livia. “Here.”

Livia shakes her head. “That’s- that’s yours. From Julian. I can’t-”

Emma presses it into her palm. “I’ll get another one.” She smiles. “Julian would want you to have it.”

“What do I want?” Julian asks from the hall. Livia holds up the ring. Julian grins. “Yeah. You’re right. Put it on, Livs.”

Livia does. It’s a strangely familiar weight on her hand. Emma kisses her forehead, and she and Julian leave her be.

Livia turns to the desk, to the book full of pencil markings. On instinct, she opens the top left-hand desk drawer, where her desk in the Bradbury held paper and pens.

There, rattling in the desk, are pencils. And, beside them, a notebook full of blank pages.

Despite herself, Livia smiles.

She’s mid-way through her twentieth problem when Octavian barges into the room. “Livvy!” he shouts, flying at her, hugging her tightly. “I missed you! I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Livia murmurs, rubbing Tavvy’s back. He’s small for a ten-year-old; she can feel his ribs and spine against her palm. “Where have you been all day?”

“I went to the beach with Mark and Tina and Ty,” he says. He pulls away and reaches into his pocket, presenting her with a near-perfect sand dollar. “Look!”

Livia feels her heart start to race at the mention of her twin’s name. She pushes her emotions aside and takes the sand dollar in her hand. “It’s beautiful, Tavvy.”

“You can keep it,” he says, earnest. “Mark says they bring good luck.”

“You need good luck, it seems,” Mark says, entering the room without so much as a hello. He sits on the edge of her bed and winces. “I forget how hard you like your mattresses.”

Livia laughs. “Hi, Mark.”

He smiles at her. “We’ll talk later,” he murmurs as Tavvy continues to chatter about the ocean and seashells and a seagull that took it upon itself to chase Cristina Rosales halfway down the beach.

When Tavvy takes a breath, Mark interjects. “Weren’t you sent here to tell Livia something?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tavvy grabs her hand. “Can you come to the library? We want to surprise Ty.”

“Surprise Ty?” Livia repeats, looking over at Mark for confirmation. “He doesn’t usually like surprises, Tavvy.”

“We figured if we told him, he’d bolt,” Dru says, poking her head into the room. “Come on. He’s getting suspicious.”

Wordlessly, Livia follows her siblings down to the library. She schools her features into the blank expression of calm she perfected over years of leadership, but inside, she’s quaking. She can feel her hands shaking at her sides. Her arms are slowly going numb. Her heart is racing, and she can feel her breath quickening.

She’s nervous, she supposes. And terrified. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he hates me?

“He won’t hate you,” Mark says, as if reading her thoughts. When they reach the library, he hangs back with her. “As surely as I know the sun rises in the east, I know that Tiberius could never hate you.”

Livia looks up at him. “Why are you talking like that?”

Mark laughs. “It’s a long story.” Livia opens her mouth, and Mark shushes her. “No, Livvy.” He pushes the door open. “You have to go in.”

So she does. Ty is leaning over a table, studying something in a thin, black notebook. “The shadow needs to be darker,” he’s telling Julian, who crosses his arms and leans against a bookshelf.

“Now you’re giving me artistic advice?” he asks, bemused.

Ty stands up straight. Livia feels her eyes widen in shock. He’s tall. He’s grown up. He’s practically a man now. “You asked for my opinion, Julian.”

Julian smiles, his eyes on Livia’s. “That I did.”

“What are you looking at?” Ty asks, turning. The moment his eyes meet her’s, Livia wants to bolt.

I can’t do this, she thinks, mouth dry. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.

You have to, she tells herself sternly. Her resolve - the same resolve she had when she stood on a cliff’s edge, prepared to blow her brother’s head off with a shotgun - strengthens. You have to.

The twins regard one another from across the library. Ty's hands flutter at his sides, then go still.

"Livvy?"

Livia opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. So she nods. Yes, it's me. Yes, I'm here.

Ty strides forward until they're an arm's length from one another. His eyes trace the scar on her face. She can see the conflict in his eyes, a push and pull he can’t resolve. A part of her is relieved. She can still read him. On some tiny level, she still knows him.

Behind Ty, Julian watches them. Livia can see the fear in his eyes, the silent prayer that Ty won't push her away.

She wouldn't blame Ty if he did. She's a transplant, after all; it would make sense for him to reject her like mundane bodies reject a foreign heart or lung or limb.

She looks down at Ty’s hands, now barely shaking. They look strong. They’re climber’s hands, she realizes, and then she has to tamp down the rising memories of knives and demons, water and blood.

Ty links his pinky with hers. She looks up sharply, physically jolting at the sensation, then nearly yelps when Ty pulls her to him, wrapping her in a tight one-armed hug.

“Livvy,” he says again, voice rough. Tentatively, she wraps her free arm around his waist, her upper arm still pinned by his. “Livia.”

"I'm sorry," she gasps against his shoulder. It’s all she can say. He trembles against her, the hand now holding hers spasming. "I'm so sorry, Ty."

He lifts their connected hands and places her other arm over his shoulder. He buries his face in her neck. She can feel the tears on his cheeks.

“Hold me,” he mutters. “Livvy, please.”

She does. She squeezes him tight and tight and tighter, until they may as well be the same person. He responds in kind, tangling his fingers in her hair, smoothing his hand up and down her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again when he pulls away. “I’m so sorry.”

Ty studies her face. Carefully, he touches a hand to the scar on her cheek. “You didn’t cry,” he says. “Why aren’t you crying? There are tears in your eyes.”

Livia shakes her head. “I don’t deserve to cry,” she says. “I left you. Not the other way around.”

“I left you in your world,” Ty counters. Despite herself, Livia flinches. “And clearly it bothers you.”

“You have no idea,” Livia whispers.

“Actually,” Ty says softly, the saddest smile crossing his face, “I do.”

She does cry, eventually. After Ty disentangles himself from her to get something from his room and Julian sees himself out, she sinks to her knees on the library floor and wraps her arms around her torso. It’s cold comfort, but it’s all she can do to keep herself together.

She remembers the last time she did this. It was when she lost Dru, the last of her family. She collapsed on the office floor and wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingers into the spaces between her ribcage as if she could break her own heart via her lungs.

Cameron had found her then. He sat with her, his hand on her back, and let her cry ugly, heaving sobs until her energy was spent. She hasn’t cried since. Not until now.

Before she even registers the tears, they’re falling, one after the other until she’s sobbing, biting on her fist to keep from making noise, twisting her shirt in her fingers to stop herself from shaking.

I’m sorry, she thinks, although about what, or to whom, she’s not sure. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“Don’t be sorry,” she hears Ty say, and she knows she shouldn’t be speaking aloud, knows she should stop, knows she should pull it together for him, but all she can do is reach up for him and pull him down to sit beside her.

“Livvy,” Ty sighs, guiding her head to lean on his shoulder, wiping her tears with a soft hand. “It’s okay, Livvy. You’re home now. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

“They didn’t hurt me,” she gasps. “That’s the point. Everyone else hurt. Everyone else died.” Her voice rises in a heartbroken howl. “And I got to live! It’s not fair!”

Ty is silent for a moment. Then, “I wrote you something.”

Livia lifts her head. “What?” She dashes tears from her cheeks.

Ty holds up an envelope. “I got your letter. But it burned when-” he cuts himself off, color rising to his cheeks. “But I thought...if someone ever went back to Thule, maybe I could reach you.” He places the envelope on the floor in front of her. “You don’t have to read it now. But I wanted you to have it.”

Livia dries her tears. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”

Ty shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything.” He locks his pinky with hers. “You saved yourself. Here, you saved Julian. And now you’re back, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

It takes her a moment to realize he’s teasing. When she does, she smiles.

“I was wrong,” he says softly, standing up and offering her a hand. She takes it; he easily pulls her to her feet. “When Julian first told me about you, I was wrong.”

Livia frowns. “About what?”

Ty bends down to pick up the letter. He extends it to her, and she takes it. “You are my Livvy.”

In the middle of the night, Livia wakes up.

She may have had a nightmare; she’s not sure, since she can’t remember whatever dream pulled her from sleep to waking, but, in any case, she’s up now. So she turns on the light, smiling fondly when she sees Ty curled up, asleep on her floor, and reaches for his letter.

Livvy,

When Julian told me about you, I told him you weren’t my Livvy. I believed that, too, up until now. Now, upon further reflection, I think you might be. Everything Julian told me makes sense now. Of course you would have started a rebellion. Of course you would have kept us together. Of course you’re leading the survivors of the Dark War. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, honestly. You’re a warrior, Livvy. It’s what you do. You protect people from the things that hurt them. You protected me from the world. You protected me from myself.

I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. In this world, you wanted to be parabatai, and I said no. I told you I would always protect you and stand with you anyway; why did we need a pair of runes and an oath? Now, I wish I hadn’t. I held you back, and I didn’t protect you when you needed it most. Logically, I know I was too far away to save you, but you have to know that I would have died for you.

I wish I could have died with you. It isn’t fair that you’re gone and I’m here. It isn’t fair that I’m gone in your world, either. At least here, I have my family. There, you’re all alone.

Maybe there’s a dimension where we’re together. I hope so. I miss you, Livvy. More than anything. I wish the version of you reading this could tell me how long it takes for the world to right itself under the twinless twin’s feet. Because I think my world will always be off-axis.

There’s nothing if you aren’t here.

I love you, Livvy.

-Ty

“You finally get to read it.”

“What the hell?” Livia hisses, lurching back against the headboard. In front of her, at the foot of the bed, hovers a ghostly visage: a younger version of herself with longer hair and an unblemished face in a long white dress. “You’re-”

“I’m you,” Ghost Livia says. She smiles softly. “This is kind of cool, actually.” She cocks her head to the side, seemingly studying Livia’s face. “I’m badass in your dimension, huh?” She crosses her arms. “Let me guess, you hate the scar.”

“How is this-”

“Ty will tell you,” Ghost Livia says. “He’ll tell you everything.” Some unrecognizable emotion crosses her face. “I have to go now,” she says, a little mournfully. “Soul theory is a strange thing. You and I are tied somehow, just like Ty and I are bound. I don’t know all of how it works, but there’s enough of you in me, and me in you, where I can’t stay here.”

Livia nods. “It makes sense. Our timelines were the same at one point.”

Ghost Livia smiles down at Ty, still asleep on the floor. “I don’t have to tell you to take care of him. I know you will. Just…” she searches his face. “Don’t leave him again. We’re not meant to be separated.”

Livia nods. “I won’t. I swear.”

Ghost Livia sighs. She tilts her head up, as if looking at the sky. “Tell Ty I love him,” she says. “Tell him you love him too.”

As Livia watches, Ghost Livia disappears. Ty wakes up with a start, blinking as if adjusting to the light.

“She’s gone,” he says, emotionless.

Livia nods. “I’m sorry.”

Ty shakes his head, clambering up to sit beside her. “I’m not.” He leans into her, bumping her arm with his forehead like a cat until she lifts her arm to encircle his shoulders. “I have something much better.”

She kisses the top of his head and smooths down his messy hair. Her own voice echoes in her head. I kissed him. I told him I loved him.

“I love you, my Ty,” she whispers. When he doesn’t answer, she looks down and smiles when she sees he’s asleep. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[hal-stewart]

I. BASIC

FULL NAME: Harold Stewart NICKNAME(S): Hal DATE OF BIRTH: 22nd December, 1983 NATIONALITY: American OCCUPATION: Inventor/Artist RELIGION: Agnostic GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender male SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demisexual & Demiromantic ETHNICITY: White SPECIES: Witch (Alchemist)

II. APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Jake Gyllenhaal HEIGHT: 6' 1'' WEIGHT: 170 lbs HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: Blue DOMINANT HAND: Left SCARS: The most prominent ones are on his left eyebrow and his left hand. They were the result of a bike accident when he was little. Back when he and Hugh still looked more similar that scar on Hal’s eyebrow was the surefire way to tell them apart. TATTOOS: Hal has 8 tattoos.     1: Three armband tattoos on his right forearm.     2: The “Memento Mori” tattoo above his left elbow.     3: The infamous YOLO tattoo on his right shoulderblade (he got it while drunk when he was seventeen, and luckily, it’s a small tattoo).     4: The two parallel lines of Roman numerals that go from the base of his neck to his left shoulder (one line depicts his mother’s birthdate and the other the day she passed away).     5 & 6: A constellation on his left inner forearm and the seven alchemical symbols for the core metals on his wrist.      7: A circle on the left side his neck (for alchemists, circles serve as a conduit which focuses and dictates the flow of power).      8: The earth ground symbol at the back of his left ankle (in electrical engineering it represents the physical connection to the ground under your feet). PIERCINGS: None

III. BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Lethe, Washington CURRENT RESIDENCE: Lethe, Washington FINANCIAL STATUS: Middle Class EDUCATION LEVEL: Bachelor of Engineering

IV. RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: Herbert Stewart (estranged) MOTHER: Sarah Stewart (deceased) SIBLINGS: Hugh Stewart FAMILY: N/A PET(S): Does his carnivorous plant count? He named it Larry.

V. PERSONALITY

MYERS-BRIGGS: ENTP ENNEATYPE: Type 4, The Individualist MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good TEMPERAMENT: Choleric, Melancholic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor ELEMENT: Earth SIN: Wrath VIRTUE: Diligence QUALITIES: Strong-willed, Loyal, Creative, Straightforward, Resourceful & Unconventional FLAWS: Bull-headed, Petty, Unreliable, Guilt complex, Quick-tempered & Cynic SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English FEAR(S): Continuing to fail those he loves, losing Hugh, becoming his father, going back to his more self-destructive habits.

VI. FAVORITES

COLORS: Brown, black, grey and red MUSIC: Arcade Fire, Michael Jackson, Prince, The Midnight, Jungle, Fleetwood Mac AUTHORS: Ray Bradbury, H.G. Wells, George Orwell, H.P. Lovecraft MOVIES: Memento (2000), Blade Runner (1982), Arrival (2016), Interstellar (2014) SEASON: Winter BEVERAGE: Beer, black coffee, coke, cranberry juice FOOD: Tacos, sushi, cheeseburger, pizza ANIMALS: Dog, green iguana, raven

[ao3feed-wincest-archive]

Skin Deep

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2FopOz2

by SinnamonSpider

The guy jumped to his feet and Dean realized how tall he really was. “Look, I’ll explain. I, uh - I lost a bet, and the punishment is that I have to get a tattoo. Today.”

Dean arched his eyebrow. “That’s a really bad idea,” he said flatly.

Words: 5532, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Otherwheres: Supernatural AU Bingo Challenge

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dean Smith, Sam Wesson, Charlie Bradbury, Kevin Tran

Relationships: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattoos, First Time, Frottage, Workplace Sex

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2FopOz2

[cowplant-pizza]

Sim Request: @prettyinpixelations

prettyinpixelations: Hi lovely. I adore your sims and was wondering if you’re still accepting requests? I need me a hunky spouse.I’m thinking someone a little edgy. Muscles... tattoos. I have all game packs but my computer doesn’t like much custom content coz it’s a Mac and it doesn’t like some particular files hahaYour sims are gorgeous, so I feel like that description is plenty for you haha. Oh and I’d kinda like his last name to be Bradbury if that’s okay?

Here is Douglas Bradbury, made to treat your very pretty female Sim like a Princess! 

Packs Used: Outdoor Retreat, Bowling Night, Spa Day, Parenthood, Get Together, City Living

CC used:

Skin: Default, Face Overlay Lips Eyelashes Eyebrows  Blush No EA Eyelashes Nose Mask Eyes: Whisper Body Hair

Download:

Simfileshare

Origin: boeybum

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie

Requested by: Anonymous (Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Avengers (Platonic!) Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Swearing (the C word)

A/N: (Oi, Oi, Oi!)

Nat, Steve, Sam, Tony and Bucky wander into the kitchen, all looking confused at what you’d done to the living area of compound. Australian flags hung on the walls, a few blow up kangaroos were stuffed into corners, and everything was decorated in green and gold.

“G’day mates!” you shout over the music that was blasting from the speakers; currently it was AC/DC,

“What is going on?” Bucky asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes,

“It’s Australia Day!” you excitedly tell him as the they all sit around the table, “And I don’t want any complaints about my celebrations. I get around the 4th of July, and not just because it’s Steve’s birthday,”

“So, what’s the plan for the day then?” Tony asks as he pours himself a cup off coffee from the pot on the dining table,

“Well, I’m going to force you all to appreciate my culture… Or at least try it,” you say,

“Australian’s don’t have culture,” Sam scoffs,

“Oh, don’t we?” you say as you make your way over to the team, a plate full of plain toast in your hands, “And it’s Aus-tralians, not Oz-tralians,” Sam rolls his eyes at your correction, “My mum just sent me a care package from home, with everything I need to show you all how great Aussie culture is,”

Placing the plain toast in front of your friends, you pull out a jar of Vegemite. Everyone around the table groans.

“You’ve gotta learn to put just the right amount on,” you defend,

“What even is it?” Nat asks, her eyes trained on the jar of black paste,

“…Yeast extract,” you admit in a mumble. Everyone makes disgusted sounds, you knew you shouldn’t have told them that.

You put Vegemite on toast for everyone, making sure not to lather it on - a common mistake. You nod an encouragement as Sam, Tony, Nat, Steve and Bucky tentatively bring their pieces of toast to their mouths, glancing at one another with a ‘we-really-doing-this?’ look.

You stare intensely at your teammates as they slowly chew their Vegemite toast. Tony and Sam immediately scrunch their noses in disgust, and practically throw the rest of the toast back onto their plates. But you’re surprised when Steve, Bucky and Nat seem to enjoy the spread. Nat is nodding to herself, staring at her toast, while Steve and Bucky take a second bite.

“That’s actually pretty good,” Nat comments. Tony and Sam shake their heads, and try to wash away the taste with coffee,

“Wait!” you stop the two men from drinking, “I’ve made everyone a milo!”

“A what?” Tony asks, cocking an eyebrow at you,

“Milo!” you repeat, “Don’t worry, you’ll like it,”

Tony gives you a disbelieving stare, but you ignore him as you place glasses of milk and Milo in front of each of your friends, “It’s like chocolate Nesquik, but better,”

“This just looks like a glass full of chocolate powder,” Bucky notes, glancing at you quizzically.

You can’t help but chuckle, “That’s the only way to drink it,”

Your friends looked a little more compliant with trying the Milo, probably because it didn’t have a bad wrap like Vegemite did. The team are still tentatively as they all try their Milo drinks. But, unlike the Vegemite, they all enjoy it.

You wanted to spend the next few hours giving them one Australian product at a time and watching their reactions, but you had more to prepare for your American Australia Day. You empty out the cardboard box your mum had sent you, letting a mountain of Australian specific foods pour out.

Natasha and Tony fight over the Tim-Tams while Sam, Steve and Bucky fish through the Freddo Frogs, Caramelo Koalas, Twisties, Shapes and everything else your mum could think of. You didn’t mind that they were stealing all your home country snacks, your mum sent you care packages every month; you’d live without Tim Tams and Shapes for 4 weeks.

You were about to head out to the shops, but you couldn’t find any shoes, “Anyone seen my thongs?” you ask, your eyes searching the living room floor.

“What?” Sam calls back, a deep frown in between his brows,

“My thongs,” you repeat. Tony, Bucky and Steve’s mouths drop open, while Sam and Nat frown at you,

“Thongs?” Tony drawls out, “As in, plural…?”

“Yeah…” you say with uncertainty. Then it hits you, “Oh! I mean my flip flops,”

“Oh my god!” Steve groans, looking relieved you didn’t mean multiple g-strings,

“I thought you meant panties,” Bucky says, his cheeks flushing the moment he realises he just used the word ‘panties’

You can’t help but crack up, watching your friends sigh in relief.

“Think I saw them behind the couch,” Nat adds. You finally spot your shoes and quickly slide them on.

“Where you going?” Tony asks, his mouth jammed full of Tim Tams,

“The mall,” you say in your best attempt of an American accent, “Got to get beer, goon and a cricket set,”

“Fosters?” Steve perks up, looking proud that he knew an Australian beer,

“Ugh! No,” you scrunch your nose in disgust, “No one in Australia drinks that crap,”

Steve’s face falls a little as you wave a quick goodbye and disappear into the elevator. 

Finding a plastic cricket set was not an easy task, as you’d suspected, but you manage to get your hands on one. You return to the compound with the cricket set, 2 slabs of beer and too many boxes of goon.

Nat, Steve, Tony, Sam and Bucky are all lounging around the pool, since it was a fairly warm day, and look at you expectantly as you join them.

“Yes!” you exclaim. They all look at you with confusion, “Hanging out in the pool is a tradition on Australia Day. Now you all just need a beer!”

The 6 of you spend the next few hours, drinking, talking about Aussie traditions and legends, and listening to great Australian artists. By now you’d convince everyone but Tony to wear Australian flag tattoos, everywhere, and enjoying sausages in bread or fairy bread.

“Greatest Aussie sports hero?” Sam questions before taking a swig of goon from his glass,

“Ooh,” you almost whistle, “I was about to say Cathy Freeman… But I can’t deny Steven Bradbury!”

“Who?” Steve frowns,

“Cunt! As if you don’t know Bradbury!” you exclaim. A silence falls over the 6 of you. Your friends were staring at you as if you’d just said the most insulting thing possible, “Oh… Cunt isn’t an insult,” you explain, “It’s an enduring term!”

“Like mate?” Nat questions,

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “If any, mate is more of an insulting noun than cunt,” everyone still looks a little confused, but accepts it, “Alright! Cricket!” Sam jumps up to help you, and grabs the plastic wickets out of the cricket set, “Nope, don’t need ‘em,”

You grab the two empty beer slab boxes and a sharpie. You draw three simple lines on the boxes and set them up across from each other on the lawn.

“Alright, team up,” you instruct everyone. The teams end up being you, Steve and Bucky verses Tony, Sam and Nat.

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[royalprinceminuet-blog]

Name: Prince Minuet

Race: Miqo’te (Keeper of the Moon)

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Height: 170 cm (5′7)

Eyes: Green

Personality: Laid-back, free spirit, energetic. Careless and irresponsible behavior often gets him into trouble. Cold and unforgiving to people he doesn’t like.

Hobbies: Exploring surroundings, playing music, being with friends, and pulling pranks

Physical Attributes: As a Keeper of the Moon, sharp canines and large round pupils are prominent. Eyebrows are darker than the hair, and crimson tattoos by the (slightly upturned) eyes! A pale complexion as result of rarely being outside during the day. Also shiba tail!♥

Prince is an only child, raised with loving parents in Coerthas by the frozen river. His mother fell in love with stories and fairy tales of kings and queens, eagerly insisting to name her child Prince. His father was away at work often, but when he was home he was sure to give Prince lots of attention, despite being exhausted.

Turning 18, Prince left home to explore the world. Bringing along his lute, he wanted to spread joy and happiness with music to wherever he visited. Kind listeners tossed a gil here and there, providing food money.

“First you jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down.”–Ray Bradbury