#I mean they do love the phonograph there but

[victorluvsalice]

Hi all! It's the next update of the Chill Valicer Save, bringing us to Spring Sunday in the game and my birthday in real life! So everybody be nice and like this update. :p Today was another day spent largely at the store, so let's get straight into it --

-->Started with a few werewolf shenanigans from Alice -- thanks to her and Victor's amazing bed, she was full energy around 4:30 AM, and as she was already pretty Furious, I decided her task for the morning would be to knock herself over the edge so she could RAMPAGE and then immediately regain control with her Fury reset. She thus got sent outside to transform into her beast form and do werewolf stuff – marking her territory, howling, smelling and scavenging for treasures (nothing good though -- scavenging doesn't actually turn up stuff most of the time, I've noticed), things like that. *shrug* Sometimes, you just gotta indulge the beast!

-->While that was going on, Smiler finished off another computer chip and a mechanism on the robotics bench, then wandered into the living room to prune the regrown bonsai into a playful shape. I allowed this because I was curious as to what a "playful shape" was -- turns out it's a freezer bunny. XD I quite like that!

-->Victor woke up a little bit later with a talent point in hand – I had him spend it on “Charge Control” to reduce the amount of charge he builds up from casting spells (and as he does a LOT of that, it’s an important upgrade!), then head downstairs to do some laundry, which came with some free flirting from Smiler. :p Once everything was in the wash, he got dressed and headed into his greenhouse to check on all of his plants, and Smiler headed to the cow paddock to go refill Moory’s feed and check on the cow. Because we can't have this fussy cow deciding we don't love her, after all! After making sure she was good, I decided to have Smiler tip her (in Sims terms, this means “making it rain” simoleons in front of your cow) to get some enriched milk from the day's milking, then left them to it while I checked in on Alice! How was her proto-"rampage" going?

-->Well, uh, turns out she was rather more into cleaning up puddles and chatting with inanimate objects (like Victor's lettuce). Which, I couldn't object to the former, at least, even if it wasn't in my plan for her for the day. I was determined to knock her over the edge into a proper RAMPAGE, though, so after sending her to feed Toothy, I had her start going places FEROCIOUSLY and marking her territory to kick up the old Fury...

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. Pt 3:

silco x f!reader - 2.8k words - SFW

cw: angst, Silco being the most clueless mf to ever live (but he’s also a sweetheart, so we’ll forgive him just this once), fluff, Vander being lovely, mentions of poverty, arguments, references to sex, Seven is the actual worst, kind of an angsty end to the chapter (thought i'd mention it just in case)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

-

Silco has mentioned Seven and your date with him that many times in the past week, you’re genuinely starting to worry he’s got an unhealthy obsession with the boy. 

In fact, he’s brought it up so often, you can tell just by the way Silco takes a breath that he's going to start yet another rant about your situationship, prompting you to scuttle away from him the second he opens his mouth to speak. 

It doesn’t put you off going on your date. If anything, it makes you even more determined to push back against Silco and prove to him that you can do this, with or without his support.

So, you go on your second date with Seven. 

He’d somehow managed to visit you every single day at work following your first date, which caused a giddy, cherished sort of feeling the first two times it happened, but now kind of irritates you after eight consecutive days of it. 

Now, it just feels clingy and suffocating, and you’re getting slightly worried your boss is going to get mad at you for wasting time at work. 

Luckily, Seven hadn’t asked you to go swimming on your date, (or, skinny dipping, as Silco had told you was his actual meaning, approximately six thousand times). Instead, he’d walked you to one of the little piers overlooking the river, where you’d sat side by side and shared a simple picnic. 

It was nice. Mostly. 

Seven had pretty much just talked about himself the entire time (again), and had even interrupted you the one time you tried to tell him about the new vinyl you’d excitedly bought on sale at the market. (So what if you can’t play it or listen to it just yet, Seven, you’ll be able to afford a phonograph one day, and you can just admire the sleeve artwork until then!)

Towards the end of the date, he’d finally kissed you, softer than you were expecting after the bold way he’d previously tried to kiss you outside your apartment.

But there hadn’t been any butterflies, or that wonderful, little spark you’ve often heard people describing when they speak of their first kisses. (Kinda, sorta like the way you felt when you’d kissed Silco…)

Kissing Seven, you hadn’t really felt anything at all, except, slightly icky and a little bit disappointed.

So now, you arrive home from the pier on your own (Seven had apparently been too busy to walk you back this time) with a strange sort of empty feeling emanating from your chest. Like someone has stolen a couple of your ribs while you weren’t looking. 

But a warm sense of relief and delight quickly replaces that feeling when you spot Vander sprawled out on the sofa, arms spread out across the back, head tilted up to the ceiling. 

It’s rare to see him at home, what with his long hours down the mine and evenings tending the bar. And it shows. Tired eyes and limbs betraying just how shattered he must be after all those hours of work. 

You’re desperate to tell him to give up the extra shifts at the bar. But you’re genuinely not sure if the three of you would be able to stay together without it. Maybe you should ask if you could pick up some of his shifts instead, give him a few nights off. Janna knows he deserves it.

Vander looks up when you gently click the front door closed, sitting up properly while you toe off your shoes to join the line along the wall. 

“Hey, you’re home,” you say. 

“I am,” he replies, easy smile to mask his exhaustion. “How was your date?”

Part of you had hoped he’d forgotten so you wouldn’t have to talk about it. But Vander’s far too thoughtful for that. 

“Ah, you know…” you say, looking down at your feet bashfully. 

“That bad?”

“I wouldn't say bad.” You sigh, dropping down next to him on the sofa.

You rest your head against his shoulder, tucking your feet under your legs in an attempt to get comfortable. Vander places his arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you towards him, until you’re leaning against his side.

You’ve always secretly thought of him as your wise, older brother. The one who always knows what to say and how to say it. The person you can always rely on.

"But not good?" he asks, genuinely. 

This time, the sigh you give feels like it radiates from your whole body. 

“It’s just…I didn’t expect any of it to feel like this, I thought I was supposed to feel…”

You don’t really know, to be honest. You’ve only ever heard people describe their experiences with love or dating, so you’re not completely sure what you’re supposed to feel. 

But something deep down is telling you, ‘not like this’.

“Feel what, lass?” Vander prods gently. 

“I don’t know,” you finally admit. 

Van nods in understanding, gently tapping your bicep twice before rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. 

“Maybe you just need a bit more time to get to know him,” he says, offering you the advice you’d been too nervous to ask for. “D’ya think you’ll see him again?”

You tilt your head to the side, worrying your lip with your pointer finger and thumb. 

“He asked me to go on another date with him tomorrow,” you say, pushing down the fact it feels like a shameful confession. “I said yes but-”

And then Silco storms into the room, looking like he’s spitting nails. 

“You're not seriously going on another date with that greasy-haired freak?" he demands, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

Immediately, you push yourself from Vander’s embrace to sit up and glare at him. Trust Silco to ruin the nice moment you were having. 

“Seriously, what have you got against him?”

Silco ignores you, clearly on a rampage that could only be fuelled by pure insanity. 

“You can't go on another date with him,” he announces firmly. 

"What? Why?" 

You wait, with a truly impressive amount of patience if you do say so yourself, for Silco to explain himself. To present his infallible, incredibly coherent, astonishingly well-thought out argument as to why you can’t go on another date with the person you are currently dating. 

"Because he's gross,” he says. 

You could really, honestly smack him. 

"No, he's not." 

"I don't think you should see him anymore," he continues. 

“Silco. I’m not a child, you can’t just tell me what to do,” you say, feeling the anger beginning to bubble away inside you. Silco knows exactly how to push your buttons and he knows it. 

“Yes, I can,” he argues, arms crossed against his chest. 

You narrow your eyes dangerously. 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Vander interrupts before one of you tackles the other and turns the argument into a childish scrap in the middle of the room.

Sil huffs dramatically and uncrosses his arms. Then, clearly not knowing what to do with them as they hang awkwardly by his side, he decides to cross them again. 

“Fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but I spoke to a guy at the mines who knows him and he's… got a bit of a reputation."

"What do you mean, ‘reputation’?"

"I mean, he's dated just about every girl in the Undercity," Silco stresses.

You frown at this new information, but honestly, deep down, you don’t really care. Even the mental image of Seven kissing other people doesn’t spark that jealousy in you that it did when you’d pictured Silco experiencing his first kiss. 

But admitting that to him feels like defeat so instead you say, "Well, maybe he just hasn't found the one yet." 

Silco scoffs obnoxiously.

"What, and you think you're the one?" he says sarcastically. His tone is a little bit on the mean side. Like he’s implying that you’re not good enough for Seven.

And honestly, it stings. It hurts and it makes you angry. You thought after all these years that Silco cared about you, that he wanted the best for you. 

But all he’s done for the past few weeks is question you constantly when all you needed was just a little support from your best friend.

And, gods, you know that you don’t really mean any of it, but there’s a burning, horrible impulse to hurt Silco like he’s been hurting you, so you stand up to face him square on.

"And what if I am, huh?” you begin.

Of course, Silco immediately goes to interrupt, but you steamroll ahead. 

“You know what, Silco, maybe I’ll just go and stay with him if you’re that wound up about it. Actually, yeah.” You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, before looking him dead in the eye. “No need to wait up for me after my date tomorrow, I’ll just stay at his for the night.”

Silco looks absolutely horrified, face draining at the implication (that you don’t mean at all, honestly, you can’t think of anything worse than spending the night with Seven). 

But Silco doesn’t have to know that.

He steps forward a little and says your name, really quite desperately.

“Wait-”

There’s no way you’re letting him get the last word, so you stalk out the living room and into your bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind you for good measure.

You drop onto your bed, desperately trying not to cry as you slap your hands over your face, like it’ll hold everything in. 

You just don’t get why Silco is acting like this. 

And the more time you spend with Seven, the more sure you are that he’s actually quite a repulsive, self-centered person. But you don’t know how to fix any of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into and all you really want is your best friend back. 

You just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Is that too much to ask? 

-

You haven’t spoken a word to Silco since your argument. Even after Vander had carefully explained that Silco probably didn’t mean what he’d said, you don’t want to hear it. The hurt is still too raw to forgive him yet. 

Everything has changed since you kissed. Now, your heart does this breathtaking little flip in your chest every time you see him, and all you can think about is kissing him again. But you're dating Seven and it's not like Silco likes you anyway, so there’s no point in entertaining it. 

Gods, you wish you could just stop feeling like this. 

You force yourself to go on another date with Seven, even though you had originally been planning on cancelling when you were talking about it to Vander. Now, you’re going just to spite Silco. 

So that’s how you find yourself walking through the city’s sprawling market stalls with Seven, kinda wishing you were anywhere else. You’re not really buying any of the products for sale because neither of you can afford much of anything at the moment, which just makes you feel all deflated. 

And Seven is holding your hand as you stroll along, but honestly, you wish he wasn’t. His hands are a bit sweaty and he’s gripping your knuckles just a bit too tightly for comfort. You have to keep letting go to wipe your hand on your leg and it’s starting to get really quite embarrassing. 

Just as you’re on the cusp of deciding whether to fake some kind of horrific illness or whether it’d be too dramatic to just flee Zaun and adopt a whole new identity, you’re saved by a tall figure stumbling into your side.

You only just manage to stop yourself from tripping to the ground, thankfully righting yourself before you can fall, just to look up in confusion at-

Silco. Who looks down at you with the most unapologetic expression you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s clear he’s followed you because why else would he be in the market, he hates the market when it’s busy. He once said he’d rather run naked through the streets of Piltover in front of the Council building than risk the ‘throngs of dawdling idiots’ on a busy market day. 

"Hey, fancy bumping into you!” Silco acts surprised, completely over the top and almost embarrassingly unconvincing. He’s not getting a job in the Piltie theatre anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

Then, his expression drops when he glances at Seven, like there’s suddenly a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh. What’s he doing here?”

You resist the urge to scream, finally letting go of Seven’s hand to step away from him.

"Silco-" 

"We're on a date." Seven finally speaks, looking thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Even more annoyed than when Silco was rude to him outside your apartment. 

"Really?" Silco questions. He looks pointedly at the distance between the two of you and then stares obstinately at Seven. "Doesn't look like it to me." 

"Look, mate-" 

Silco cuts him off with deadly sharp precision. 

"You know, Six, I think we have a mutual acquaintance," he says, timbre turning positively dangerous. "Her name’s Lia. Works at the mines? That ring any bells in your dense, little head?" 

At this, Seven’s face pales. Rapidly. 

"Never heard of her," he insists, far too quickly to be anything but a lie. 

Then, he turns to you, snatching up your hand again. 

"Let's go, doll, we don’t have to put up with this." 

Silco’s expression darkens immeasurably, clenching his fists by his sides as he steps forward, but you beat him to the punch, ripping your hand out of Seven’s grasp. 

Fuck this. 

"You know what, I've just remembered that there's something that I need to do," you snap, borderline shouting over them when they both jump to speak. "Alone." 

Turning on your heel, you stalk off in the opposite direction, automatically heading towards the River without even really thinking about it. It’s the place you usually end up when you need to clear your head, and right now, you just need some peace and quiet.

You’re only a few streets away from the market when you hear Silco following you, knowing after all these years the loping strides of his gait by heart. When he makes no sign of stopping, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. 

"Please don’t." 

He says your name pleadingly but you shake your head. 

"I don't want to hear it, Silco," you say, a wave of exhaustion sweeping your bones.  

You’re far, far too tired for this.

"But he's-" 

"Why are you going out of your way to sabotage this for me?" you ask, absolutely detesting the way your voice wobbles on the last few words. 

Silco’s expression flickers, clearly torn between giving you space and stepping forward to comfort you. He ends up shoving his hands into his pockets defensively, but not without inching just that little bit closer to you. 

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm just trying to protect you," he replies, tone soft. An attempt at reassurance. 

"From what?" you ask.

"From getting hurt.”

He bites his lip, determined and desperately worried all at once. 

You sigh heavily, scrubbing a hand over your face.  

"I just don't get it, Sil, I don't get why you're doing all this," you say, letting your arms drop wearily by your side. 

He seems almost startled by your need for an explanation, uncharacteristically sheepish for the briefest moment as you watch him expectantly. 

"I… I just…" 

And then, as you continue to wait, his expression shutters, turning stony and closed off, and you know you’re not going to get anything from him now. Certainly not anything honest or in the least bit vulnerable. 

You bite your lip hard to stop the burning tears from falling. 

"Just go home, Silco," you say. You sniff back the tears, dejected but accepting. "I'll see you later.”

It breaks your heart to watch the way his shoulders slump but his expression still doesn’t crack. And he still doesn’t say a word when you slowly turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t stop you. 

The next few days feel like a haze of misery; a looping, unfathomable rhythm of going to work and returning home in silence, trying to ignore the way he watches you walk through the flat with a terribly lost expression, like you’ve slipped from his grasp.

You can’t bring yourself to talk to him, even though it physically hurts you to ignore him like this, the irony of not being able to talk to the one person who you can always go to. 

And with Vander gone so often, you’re left to just sit silently in your bedroom, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering where the hell it all went wrong. 

PART 4

-

a/n: I’m sorry for such an angsty end to this chapter, lots of fluff and comfort in the next one, i promise!! (and this story will def have a happy ending, i think i’m physically incapable of writing sad endings, it’s just not in my dna)

-

super secret taglist 😎: @oceansssblue, @inolaphoenix , @holographicgarden , @darlingimafangirl , @rainyforest777 , @kikiiswashere , @deviantgamergirl , @miffysoo , @eternallyvenus

[rayroseu]

THE MAJESTIC EXCELLENCY HERSELF 😍😍😍😍💚💚💚💚 also maybe its just me but is it a reach to hope that an ACTUAL Disney villain can cameo in TWST?? 😆 You know like how Mickey randomly appears before us akjdkss

Also i find it interesting how Yuu immediately got up to go to the Maleficent Statue after concluding the dream as "Maleficent is being left out..." She reminded him of One Guy lol 😭 Also Yuu lore crumbs that theyre finally catching up that their dreams is related to the next overblot lol

ALSO AAAAAHHH SEBEKKKK 💚💚💚✨✨✨ I missed hearing his "human!!" FULLY VOICED✨✨✨ Haruki Ishiya san... thank you 😭💚💚💚

I love his attitude change LMFAO and Silver being the polite person he is insisting Sebek to apologize and Sebek just doesnt lol... SOBS... Also agree with Grim lol Diasomnia literally the most dramatic dorm lol

Also I find it so funny that "Malleus evil smile" expression is his Happiest Expression LMFOAOAOA He's thoroughly AMUSED by Yuu calling him Hornton in front of Sebek (of all people) without hesitance 😭😭

Ohhh Malleus loves chaos alright ✅✅✅💥💥 and his family and friends getting along...😭😭💕💕💕

Also the part where the npcs talked about him broke my heart aughh...

He's just talking with his classmates and everyone is already whispering how "he shouldn't be in this school he's going to curse everyone" (OKAY maybe theyre going to be right about that in a few more updates butksjdjs) But aaa knowing the fact he has superb hearing skills.... I like to imagine he's hearing these rumors while talking to Yuu and the knights but he's just ignoring the rumors since there's a few peopke who are treating him like a normal person right now 😭😭

I LOVE HOW THIS IMPLIES LILIA RELIES ON SILVER THE MOST TOO!!! He couldve asked Sebek or Malleus since theyre the people with no sleep problems... but nooo he insisted on Silver waking him up!! AUDGAUHS I thought he's a general who focuses on efficiency... 😭😭 He just wants Silver to wake him up... i know you lilia 🔍🔍🔍🤨🤨

I am in good pain... considering!! in Book 7!! Lilia repeatedly appears to be a reliance for Silver whenever he feels hopeless... I CANT. Lilia is just like more lowkey about how much he actually relies on his son 😭😭💚💚

ROOK BEING IN THE RUINS TOO IS SO FUNNY LFMAOOO THATS ONE OF MALLEUS' TOP INTERSHIP LIST??? ITS LILIA'S P.E VIGNETTE ALL OVER AGAIN LMFOAOAA HE'S GONNA HARASS MALLEUS DOWN IF THEYRE COWORKERS AHFHAHDHA

Imagine them in the ruins and finally Malleus has someone who is enthusiastic about ""boring facts about Gargoyles and Abandoned Ruins"" but its just... got to be THIS GUY Rook Hunt... who once tried to playfully harm Lilia lol

Malleus and Rook Duo is actually so funny though 😂😂 It still cracks me up that Malleus was once invited on Rooks Bday but he didnt attend cuz he's annoying to him and most notably Rook is not even hostile to him??? He just didnt attend bcs he hates his guts omg😭😭💥💥

This fact is so weird to me... What do you mean that some teeth just becomes an automatic RADIO under the right conditions????😭 Is this a foreshadow to Zigvolts Dentistry??? 😳⚡💚✨✨✨

Can a fae teeth play Elvis Presley just by opening their mouths...?? You know like Stitch acting as a phonograph... 😂

But I doubt??? They have radio towers at Briar Valley so it probably doesnt happen????? But It'd be pretty funny if Briar Valley radio just play bardcore music and one poor fae was "cursed" to have "magical radio teeth" playing bardcore everytime lol

My first thought was "Sebek!!!!✨✨✨" here actually 😭💚 Since he's the only freshman we're missing rn...

But I was surprised Yuu thought of Malleus??? That just further implies Yuu recognizes him as a friend that'll help them too 😭😭😭

Its just precious to think that someone finds Malleus reliable, he'll be so happy to assist Yuu if they're having trouble with anything just like how he enthusiastically offered to explain more about the Thorn Fairy since Yuu is curious about it...😭💖💞💖💗💕 I love them to BITS OMFG...

(I'm sad that Yuu is going home too but I'm ignoring that lol🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️ Yuu is a self insert theyre supposed to speak MY language of staying with Mal-)

Its devastating that the freshmen are so hyped up to be working together THEY ARE NOT PROCESSING THE IMPLICATIONS OF YUU GOING HOME... 💔😂 if Yuu truly goes home, theres no reason for them to be gathering like this on the cafeteria anymore... 😭😭💔💔 Making myself sad that they'll buy an extra plate for them during lunch break and not even Grim touches that food... just to honor their friend😭😭😭

Wait so we know that the first night in "sleepover to discover Mickey" consists of Deuce and Ace as Grim and Yuu's companion...

Maybe the next nights (without Malleus' overblot interupption) consisted of Epel and Jack, and then possibly Ortho and Malleus??? (since Ortho is the one who suggested that therell be a fae)

Oh but Im going to cry if at Book 7's ending consisted of Yuu inviting Malleus for a sleepover at Ramshackle despite what happened... 😭😭😭 and and like the stars aligning appears once again but this time he's not at ruined Ramshackle missing his friend... He's at a peaceful sleepover with a friend group auGh... 😭😭😭💖💕💞💗💞💗

[anouchard]

Malevolent Liveblog: Episode 12

HELLO THERE.

Spoilers under the cu(l)t ...

To your right. Take the door now y'all.

Lighter. I'm sure this will never mean anything.

"Anything look ... edible?" Get this man a proper meal, please.

MUSIC

LAUGHTER. I LOVE his laugh.

I am sure the ornate mirrors will not come back to haunt us in any way.

Gosh, I forgot how immersive this podcast was from the very beginning.

Laundry chute?

"Damn" indeed.

Oh I forgot about the paper! What's the deal with that?

Phonograph? Ooh.

KELLIN.

Wait ... this doctor is Harlan?

That genuinely never registered, but ofc it is.

Harlan, how did you do this one? Harlan.

The King in Yellow!

Aaaaand cue the music.

Ohhhhhhh boy. Oh. Oh?

"See yourself framed in gold"? DO NOT GO BACK TO THE MIRRORS.

The DREAD I feel.

Getting closer ...

NO. DO NOT.

Harlan, how do you know that mirror horror is my worst nightmare. How. It is up there with eye horror. How dare you.

TUNNEL

"You first" I HAVE JUST REALISED WHY THAT IS FUNNY.

Uh, down we go.

"This isn't a mine".

"Then it's a secret we need to see". ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT.

"To the keenest form of fascination".

CARCOSA? IS THAT YOU??

(This gives me chills. So many chills. John's description and tone is WONDERFUL).

CRASH. Well, that went well.

WE ARE HOME.

Very Lemony Snicket vibes here.

The city has eyes? THE CITY HAS EYES??

Ohhhh the vocal shifts. Lovely.

Lantern? River? Very Underworld.

No paddles? Something in the water? This feels like we are about to meet Gollum, folks.

"We're moving ... slowly".

Of course there's something down there. Of course there is.

The vibes are IMMACULATE.

"Do fish swarm?" Not the time, Artie.

NOPE NOPE NOPE

"Arthur lie back down" ugh.

"ARTHUR ARE YOU MAD". Yes but maybe that's how he survived.

"It's over" ahahahahahahahahaha.

Anaesthetic? That was considerate.

John being speechless is ... well.

CASSILDA???

WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THE KING IN YELLOW WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THE KING IN YE-

Is this Yhtill? Alar? Carcosa?

"You're here with me, John, and I need you. We're a team".

Oh of COURSE there's a corpse.

OH GOD

Large yellowish egg?

"I know this place".

Adore this. All of this.

"Are you willing?" Oooft.

AMPITHEATRE YES

Ah yes, the horror of being Known.

"You've come a long way to become whole again".

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

"Promise nothing will happen to him".

Ahahahahahahahaha YES

This is one HECK of a finale.

"My face is ... my own, once again ... I am The King in Yellow." Chills.

Piano.

"Faroe?"

OH HEY KING.

"Every instance of you is being erased." And yet he holds on.

HEY JOHN.

Oh ...

Aaaaaaand SCENE.

[aster-blogging-dracula]

Reading BlueCatWriter's Dracula along with Dracula Daily

Ok so I've been meaning to read all of @bluecatwriter 's wonderful Dracula hc fics in order for a long time but I never have time to get with it so I decided to read it along with Dracula Daily this year.

If anyone else wants to do the same, here are the dates (or aproximante dates*) for each fic. (idk if someone has done this already but oh well) (BlueCat if you read this feel free to correct me if i got any date wrong)

*(Since there's 2 pre-canon fics and 2 days of may before dd, i'm setting those fics on those dates. Dates of undated fics are also adjusted to not overlap with date of other fics)

*(The order during the varna stay is a bit wacky since the book gets pretty vague for 2 weeks there but I tried to adjust it as well as possible.)

1-A picnic in may. May 1st 2-Home before you know it. May 2nd 3-I too can love. May 16th 4-Three letters. May 19th 5-The prisioner. May 28th 6-Tonight is mine. June 29th 7-Stay awake. August 14th 8-In sickness and in health. August 24th 9-Full of vague fear. August 24th 10-A golden afternoon. August 31st 11-A doctor’s confidence. September 2nd 12-I come to my friend when he call. September 2nd 13-Blood she must have. September 7th 14-After the transfusion. September 7th or 8th 15-Sleeping beauty. September 10th 16-The wolf in the window. September 17th 17-Sympathy. September 18th 18-Things will be different. September 19th 19-My only son. September 19th 20-Come, my husband. September 29th 21-These others. September 29th 22-Lucy’s second death. September 29th 23-How good and thoughtful. September 29th 24-Brandy, bath, and beadtime. September 30th or October 1st (preferably the former since the dd entry is slightly shorter that day) 25-A pale orphan. October 2nd 26-You will not call in vain. Between September 30th and October 11th?? 27-Renfield’s death. October 3rd 28-Safe for one more moment. October 3rd 29-A week in varna. Between October 15th and October 27th? 30-Waiting. Between October 17th and October 27th? 31-Hungry. Between October 17th and October 27th? 32-Judge moneybag. Between October 15th and October 27th? 33-How i miss my phonograph. October 24th 34-Mem. get recipe for mina. Between October 15th and October 27th? 35-Farewell, sweet friends. October 30th 36-Starlight on the sereth. October 31st 37-Step into the light. Between October 15th? and November 6th (if reading in one sitting wait until november 6th)

38- Love multiplying. November 7th onward

Omg guys it's may already I'm so exited for this. This year I know I will be up do date with everything even tho I'm busy with my End of Degree Project because the dracula fixation i caught last year is a part of my life now I have been planning this so long guys.

[vickyvicarious]

ooooh, I love Patrick Hennessey's voice!

Renfield getting possessive over Dracula... or possibly just recognizing that the boxes being taken away means Dracula might leave too, and he wants to prevent that.

kfjsldf Renfield is so good at managing the staff here. politely gaslighting them to believe he's oblivious to his own actions then escaping

OHkay the dull thuds were quite awful when he's slamming the guy's head into the ground

"you know I'm no lightweight" between this and Seward knocking Renfield off with one punch I now find myself imagining them like. wrestling each other for fun or something at least once. (jack would have gotten very bisexual about it and then refused to look dr. hennessey in the face for days probably)

"'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!'" I love how rough his voice sounds here, so different from usual. Also the murder me by inches is such a vivid and bleak way to describe being deprived of the chance at supernatural life.

sorry for your finger, Hardy

YES, the first of the very thirsty men who are suddenly more relaxed when given a drink. it's so funny

but really, Hennessey managed that very well. his quick smoothing over and attention to detail could be really helpful if anyone decided to sue them or something over this.

the phonograph noises at the beginning of Jack's entry at first made me think they were at the end of Hennessey's report, and it would be very funny if Jack insisted on getting his report in phonograph form. That, or Hennessey just wanted to take the chance to see what all the fuss was about.

...and then Jack started speaking and all amusement was lost. God, he's wrecked.

the stop and scoff before "too miserable" GODDDD

"the flapping of the wings of the angel of death" yeah he's been flapping a lot the bastard

but really, the way Jack lists them off, so bitterly, damn it's horrible

is he drinking? or trying to keep from crying? I mean he's definitely doing that either way but

the shake on "we must not all break down"

van Helsing speaking SO GENTLY to Arthur, auuugh

"You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep." this is so sweet, I can't believe I'd forgotten about it

"in this room, as in the other," of course, it makes sense not to keep Lucy in her own bedroom, where the windows are shattered and where her mother died... but I wonder where she is. Did I miss a line about it somewhere? A part of me imagines Mrs. Westenra's room, which would mean they both die in one another's beds. :(

NOT THE TEETH

"Her teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer... and sharper than they had been in the morning. In particular - by some trick of the light, the canine teeth looked... longer... and sharper than the rest." he repeats 'longer and sharper' twice, and especially the second time sounds so... nearly fascinated. It reminds me of Jonathan describing Dracula.

"there came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window" there he is, the flappy asshole. angel of death himself.

"It struck me as curious that the moment she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close." SHE'S TRYING. GOD I WANNA CRY

van Helsing's fear and despair is so well conveyed. and when he spends several minutes staring at her and then sounds so calm - he is determined.

"I went to the dining-room and waked him." the way Jack says this line is just. brutal.

I CAN'T LISTEN TO ART BREAK DOWN THIS IS GONNA DESTROY ME

the saddest "my dear old fellow" in the world

brushing Lucy's hair... I love that this makes Jack cry, because it makes me cry too.

ffffuck her shaky greeting to Arthur.

so I was talking a little bit ago about how Jack seems to distance himself unconsciously and start referring to Lucy as a thing whenever she is in more vampiric mode, and I love to hear it reflected in his voice here too. He goes from being so choked up with emotion to sounding almost cold as he says "the mouth opened,"

and he sounds so disturbed when he calls her eyes "dull" and her voice "voluptuous"

oh no oh no that "oh my love " is SO DAMN SINISTER art don't do it don't do it. like damn, I can't even make a joke about van helsing playing chaperone I'm just thankful that he's there!

it's not like being a vampire is transferrable through saliva or anything anyway but. she sounded so scary there.

Jack's delivery about van Helsing pulling Arthur back from the kiss was so funny. He sounds so incredulous: "dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed," van Helsing may joke about him being bitchless but Jack was here thinking he was a frail old man so who's laughing now. (van Helsing. definitely still van Helsing.)

van Helsing's panting!

art, bless him, choosing not to get into a fight over his fiance's deathbed. (the way Jack's voice gets rough on "and the occasion" uggggh)

god, Lucy's voice makes me so sad. that final "and give me peace"......

"Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted." THIS LINE.

nooooooo don't make me listen to Art cry fuck it's breaking me

the music while Jack is talking about there being peace for Lucy is so ominous!!! also I love the way he is so clearly trying so hard to stay composed and say something nice and look on the bright side if only a little... and then van Helsing has to be mysterious and ominous and ruin that for him too

van Helsing Barbie strikes again

"only some letters and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun." those last few words are so sad. She never got to do more than just begin her diary. She never got to even begin her new life before it was taken away from her.

"we both started at the beauty before us," Beautiful Corpse Jumpscare

"He had not loved her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes." I get how you feel but that's pretty dang rude, Jack. He's told you that he loves her and wanted to save her. He already cried for her once.

kjdsfljksdf THE DELIVERY of "I want to cut off her head and take out her heart." and. no DUH he's shocked, vH! don't go acting like this is typical surgeon behavior/reaction. omg.

and then that sigh and 'kind' concession that 'all you have to do is help me cut off her head that's all'

I fucking love the delivery of "no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge"

"I may err—I am but man; but I believe in all I do." the way his voice almost wavers on the word 'believe'. Not out of doubt, but emotion.

"and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me?" the way he says this line... he was so affected by her trust in him and her final request. he feels honored and burdened both.

Jack being so emotional about the maid grieving for Lucy... and me sitting there knowing that she's in there to steal from Lucy. (or at least, she does even if it's not why she went in)

mr. marquand! you are a decent guy, thank you for trying to look out for Lucy's interests. anyone who tries to give her agency is good in my book. even if your rejoicing is in. rather poor taste. (Jack's laugh at that is great!)

Art bringing Jack in with him is so sweet, god, god, his crying.... THE WAY HE SAYS JACK'S NAME. THE WAY HE SAYS THERE'S NOTHING TO LIVE FOR

Jack's line about men only needing "a grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison," was already ridiculous but the way says it like he's trying so hard to convince himself

I hit the bulletpoint character limit. Wow.

Anyways the delivery is so stiff-upper-lip-this-is-fine, it's great. especially as the further into the line he gets the more you can hear him trying not to sob as well.

THE SADDEST SMOOCH NOISES

the way Art reacts to being called 'Lord'. ""No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate." he sounds so desperate, the POOR MAN

and the way he is taking deep breaths while talking to van Helsing. He is working so fucking hard to be kind and try and make things easier and get through this without lashing out at anyone. I love him so much.

and van Helsing immediately follows up with "I stole your dead girlfriend's letters, can I keep them?" I KNOW he feels bad about it and he feels it is necessary and everything but. damn okay.

NOT A LULLABY NOOOOOOOOOO

GOD THAT'S SO SAD. DO NOT COME INTO THE NIGHT DO NOT GO TO SLEEP MY DEAR :( :( oh how dare you with that line about eternal life/shine so bright" AND TAKE MY BITE NOOOOOOO

[inland--empire]

I made. An au based off a personal story concept I have! The basic gist of the story itself is that after a catastrophic global event (basically the Cold War ending because someone exploded a nuclear warhead in the ocean which terrified everyone and caused an intense amount of radiation poisoning) some people started being born with odd growths on their brains. These growths cause a disorder called Michelle's Disease or Songkindism. The disorder itself means that everyone effected is tied to a song (the song doesn't have to exist yet, don't have lore for that so just bear with me) and thus they have a defect based on said song. The defect can by physical (something on your body changes, you have weird things inside your body), internal (usually magic adjacent) or both. Songkindism usually manifests around age 11, no one is quite sure why but it's theorized it's tied to puberty. In this world every child must get screened for Songkindism, and if they are found to have it they are sent to a facility to be studied.

In this au, a few things change. The inciting incident instead happens in World War 2, and the odd extra part of the brain was found way earlier. The inciting incident is also tied to the creation of the Doppler, who are theorized to all be attached to one song which is a VERY rare occurrence. Your neighbors are songbound who were allowed to leave their facility to experiment on how Doppler react to other snowbound in their environment, and also just to see if they can live normal lives. Below is each character and their song and defect. If people like this I may do more with it!

Roman: Song: Starman (David Bowie) Defect: Made of stardust, if you breathe it in it causes a surge of hope in you. 

Lois: Song: Killer Queen (Queen) Defect: High charisma, can levitate anything dangerous/that can be made dangerous 

Albertsky:  Song: Burn It Down (The Cog is Dead)  Defect: Can burn things with hands, exceptional strength. 

Robertsky:  Song: Ragtime Punk (Abney Park) Defect: Able to see the past with perfect clarity. 

Angus: Song: Mind Brand (MARETU) Defect: Knows everyone's secrets by just looking at them. 

Selenne: Song: Mowgli's Road (MARINA) Defect: Made of plants/covered in plants, is constantly in a state of desperation though she is unsure why. 

Elenois: Song: Hermit the Frog (MARINA) Defect: Made of glass (can see organs), is constantly in a state of rage, but she’s not sure why.

Gloria: Song: Cara Mia Addio (Portal) Defect: Eyes glow, she can calm anyone down by being in the room, though nobody can pinpoint it’s her. 

Arnold: Song: 100 Years (Or3o) Defect: If he likes/is crushing/is in love with someone and they are songbound, the lyrics of their song appear on his body. 

Izaack: Song: Touch Tone Telephone (Lemon Demon) Defect: He can stick pins into himself, and when it has information attached to it he can permanently perfectly recall that information. 

Margarette:  Song: Dream Sweet in Sea Major (Miracle Musical) Defect: Moon eyes, can “wash away” things but you have to work with her.

Nacha: Song: Decepticon (La Tigre) Defect: She’s made of metal and can explode herself at will. Exploding herself has no negative consequences on her. 

Anastacha: Song: Brass Goggles (Steam Powered Giraffe) Defect: She is a robot. Like that’s it she’s a robot. 

Dr. Afton: Song: Browser History Defect: ???? (Defect hides itself)

Mia: Song: Whose Eye is it Anyways??? (Jhariah) Defect: Gave her eye for knowledge. She can see through any facade and always know the truth, but she is still missing an eye. 

Francis: Song: There's No Love in February (The Orion Experience) Defect: The sadder he is, the more he freezes over. 

Steven: Song: Toes (Glass Animals) Defect: Can steal people's aggression/anger and give it to himself. 

Mclooy:  Song: The Boys are Back in Town (To Kill You) (Jerryterry) Defect: Goes crazy when he smells blood, like a shark.

Alf:  Song: The Haunted Phonograph (Thoushaltnot) Defect: Record effect over his voice, and can steal your soul and put it on the record in his stomach area.

Rafttellyn:  Song: Girl With One Eye (Florence+ The Machine) Defect: Rotting from the inside once someone steals her eye. Stealing her eye usually requires her making a mistake and it becoming loose from her guilt. She currently only has one eye. 

Arcade Clown/Mono: Song: Devil’s Train (The Lab Rats) Defect: Can just kinda. Summon a ghost train. Hands out tickets instead of papers.

Mask Ghost/Julia: Song: A Crow’s Trial (Vane Lily) Defect: More bird-like (feathered arms, bird like hands and feet, wing-like appendages), and her mask looks too tight and like it hurts. Like an iron maiden.

[ink-knight]

from one bootheng fan to another… what are ur hcs for them….

omg. hello user lesbianbootheng first of all i CANNOT tell u how excited you've made me. literally screamed a little thanks for giving me and excuse to yap more about them. i love interacting with bootheng shippers we're so cool and correct.

anyway, to answer your question, heres my headcanons under the cut:

- Literally hoping so hard that Boothill actually travels with the express. Bootheng are roommates real in my eyes they squeeze together in dan heng's tiny futon dont worry about it.

- That being said, even if they dont travel together i think boothill sends dan heng voice notes. He'll be travelling to the most mundane to breathtaking places and he'll talk about it to dan heng. because!! he KNOWS dan heng would love to get info about places to file in the data bank. (nerd)

- When he particularly misses him, dan heng with stay up late and night in his room just playing his voice notes over and over with a smile on his face.

- they have gone on so many dates. somehow after meeting boothill the amount of time dan heng has stepped out of the train rise up by 100%. whether its a sudden late night bar dive or just a simple lunch.

- boothill teaches dan heng how to dance omg can you imagine. they plays some music on the phonograph and at first dan heng is stiff as hell but he loosens up after some needling. it's not perfect by any means, they step on each other toes, a spin goes wrong, but by the end they're a laughing mess on the express floor. maybe they'll even do it again.

- boothill is really good at convincing dan heng of anything. even if dan heng thinks its stupid if its boothill saying it he'll defend him to his last breath.( this ones just canon tbh)

- march and stelle somehow convince boothill to get his hair braided. its like a really elaborate braid too thanks to march's passion. dan heng absolutely cannot function after he sees the result. hes so into it. they kiss and dan heng tangles his hands into boothill's braided hair.

uhhh thats all i can think of rn from the top of my head!! but if you or literally anyone else has any headcanons to add i am so down to listen to them. (please i love them)

[artemis1214]

WIP 'A Siren's Purpose'

I know it's been so long since I've posted anything from my books, so I decided to post a special WIP chapter. This chapter does contain spoilers from the season two leaks, so I will be cutting those out of this post.

Warning: Implied discrimination, childhood trauma, etc

Louisiana, 1901 

Somewhere deep within the autumn foliage of the bayou laid a small cottage with muffled voices coming from the upstairs, as a younger version of the incredibly feared Radio Demon sat on the couch trembling. He was shamelessly attempting to drown out the shouting of his parents with his mother's phonograph, a cherished family piece for many years despite his mother's scarce income. She had his favorite recording spinning on this day, as it was a special day for the two of them. 

His sixth birthday. 

He had made the mistake of asking his father to play jacks with him one too many times after hearing his usual dry ‘no’. His father had been slowly brewing throughout the day, but completely lost it when our little darling reached out and grabbed the leg of his pants, giving it a little tug. 

“For the love of God, boy, enough!” He snapped at him, nudging him away, “I don't have time for your pathetic games, now beat it I have to see your mother.” 

And off he went, marching upstairs as per usual. Alastor, at the time, had no idea of what was happening upstairs. All he knew was that there was nothing he could ever do that would make his father look at him the way his mother did. One day he would learn to push this desire away, but when you're so little, you crave your parent's affection. 

So, he sat. He sat and listened to the notes playing from the record and the sound of his jacks clicking together as he tossed them. 

Humming to himself as the voices got louder. 

“Please, it's his birthday, can't we g-” 

“Absolutely not! Are you absurd, woman? You want me to take him into town? Do you know the type of scrutiny I would be facing?!” 

“That shouldn't matter, he's your so-” 

“He stays here for a reason! We don't connect for a reason! You should feel lucky I give you the means to provide for him, when I could just walk out all together!” 

“But he's just a little boy!” She pleaded, “You're so cruel to him all the time, you don't have to be so darn abu-” 

With one loud smack, our little one's body stiffened, causing him to drop his pieces. He hops off the couch and picks them up quickly before his father sees the mess. 

A couple of more stomps down the stairs, and one door slam later, and he's gone. 

He timidly gets back on the couch, shuffling about until he gets situated. He looks down at the jacks and his eyes slowly fill with tears as he lets out some short sniffles. 

He just wanted to play. 

What was he doing wrong? Why was he always upsetting him? 

He could hear the clicks of his mother's shoes approaching the couch. She turns the corner and crouches down to his line of sight, lifting his chin, 

“Ah, come now, sugar. No tears.” She wipes his face gently, “You don't let that man get to you.” She takes his hands into her own, holding them close together as her thumb tenderly swipes over the back of his right hand. The action always soothed him, let him know that she was right by his side to comfort him.

“You are a strong boy, Alastor. A fine boy. Important boy. You don't let that beast's words get to your perfect head.” 

He sniffles and looks up at her as she speaks, hanging on to every word that comes out of her mouth. For a young one that didn't have many (if any) friends, his mother was the one constant in his life. 

She leans closer, resting her forehead against his, “I love you, my son.” She kissed his head, “Now, come help me in the kitchen.” 

She stands back up and extends her hand. Her precious takes a moment before he breaks out into an excited smile and hops down, taking her hand and following her into the kitchen. 

~ 

Louisiana, 1927 

The speakeasy was lively, much to nobody's surprise, filled with guests yipping and yapping away with their flutes filled with champagne. This particular night was being dedicated to celebrate a particular radio host's 1,000th broadcast debut.

Mimzy laid along the top, a trick she had picked up from Esme's performances, singing along to the tempo he was creating. 

Speaking of our girl, Esme was busy refilling the glasses of the guests and zipping around making sure the house stayed afloat. She overheard bits and pieces of her companion's performance, making her smile to herself and hum along as he played. 

That's what he was to her, for the moment anyhow, a companion.  

Following the past couple of months she had been in the south, he had become someone she could trust. Yes, they both knew dark secrets about the other, so you could question their trust as inorganic - but she felt a connection to him nonetheless.  

The two had spent more time with one another as the months progressed. Alastor insisted on walking her home nearly every night, to which Esme would invite him inside for a cup of coffee to sober him up from his many drinks of rye. He would sit next to her as she played the piano after hours, silently observing. She would lay her head on his shoulder as she finished her wine at the end of the night. 

All while Mimzy wanted to hurl at the blatantly, painfully, obnoxiously obvious tension between the two. 

Which both of them denied to the heavens. 

She would pester Esme almost every night, “C’mon, just admit it, ya prude! Ya like him - I can tell!”

“I do not, I barely know him! I'm still new here, and I told you I'm not interested in dating any men.” Esme would usually huff while getting changed back into her street clothes to meet her companion outside for her walk home. 

“You lie like a rug.” 

“Alright, alright, beat it, will ya?” She would slam the door. 

Throughout the saga of her denying her interest in him, Esme would be reminded of her true thoughts every now and then. She hated men, despised them, but on occasion…my goodness the way she would forget all about that when she saw his eyes. 

His eyes that were always looking into her own. Never below her collarbones, never dipping below her waist. 

On her eyes. 

He was a very respectable man, which was humorous considering he often favored respecting people with the sharp end of a blade. 

Well, c'est la vie. 

He had a very quick ticking temper that Esme had seen flare up in his eyes from time to time. Never directed at her, but often at patrons that irked him in all the right places. There was a brief moment where her stomach would flutter when he would look down at her. When the light hit his caramel eyes in just the right angle, she could see that predatory gleam. 

Like how a lion would look at a gazelle well past feeding time. 

It was instinctual, primal. 

Yet, it excited her deeply. 

(SPOILER SKIP)

Esme catches a sight of the situation as he shuts the door behind him, noting his mumbling of words as his shoes carry him down the hall. She sighs and tosses her rag into the nearby sink, turning the corner and approaching the restroom. 

Tonight was supposed to be about him, she couldn't bear to see him so insulted and discouraged. The irony of it all was that he wasn't either of those things. Over the years any emotion he had associated with sadness, fear, or disappointment, just began to transform into rage within a snap of a finger. 

She knocks on the door. 

“Occupied.” 

“It's me.” She says, “Can you let me in?” 

It takes a moment, but the door opens, 

“There are people here, you shouldn't be following a man into the restroom.” He huffs, turning away and putting his hands underneath the cold water of the sink. 

“You know no one can see over here.” She walks in and closes the door, “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy~” He responds in a mockingly sing-songy voice. 

“It's not gentlemanly to lie.” She says, reaching for a towel and wetting it before dabbing it on his shirt. He recoils at the touch, attempting to pull away, 

“I can tend to myself!”

“Temper.” She warns, looking up with a stern look in her eyes, “I'm only trying to help, take your mind out of your passion for a moment.” 

There's a pause before he mutters, “My apologies.” The two stand there in silence as she continues to pat away at his sleeve. His eyes stayed glued to the mirror, his expression dark. Esme looks up and places a hand on his chest, 

“Steady yourself…there are people here.” 

He tenses at her touch, feeling his heart pressing against her hand. Every hair on his body stands up as he looks down at her. Her gaze is soft and warm, not a hint of malice or distrust. 

Yet she knows exactly what he is capable of. 

How odd. 

“You mustn't allow people to get under your skin so easily, especially on nights that are so special.” 

“Says the woman who acts on a whim for every emotion that passes her.” 

“Touché…” She clears her throat, “But you've accomplished too much to let some asshat ruin your night.” 

He smiles mischievously in the mirror, avoiding her line of sight, “Oh, he didn't ruin it. I'll take care of it how I see fit.” 

“If you may…” She sighs, “But there's more to life than that.” 

“That's a naive concept.” 

She takes a sharp inhale, “I'm not naive, I'm realistic…sometimes, at least.” She continues, “I'm from a world of violence, I know that rage you feel. I've seen the men of my family act on it for years, I get that emotion. But..” She drops the rag and grabs his hands, turning him to face her. 

His contact with the mirror is broken, and suddenly it's just her. 

“YOU. You have potential.” She smiles sadly, “Do what you wish, right a wrong, whatever. But, don't let it consume all that is you.” 

She gives his hands a close squeeze together. 

Her thumb swipes tenderly over his skin, sending a painful sting through his heart. 

“You're special, look at how admired you are. That's important, don't lose that.” She whispers sincerely before pulling away and pivoting to turn around. 

He panics at the sight of her leaving and reaches for her hand, preventing her from turning the knob. Esme gasps and twists to look at him. His eyes are…frantic? 

There's something in him that she hasn't seen before, like something has awakened within him and is pleading at her to acknowledge him. 

“A-Alastor?” 

He looks down at what he's done and quickly withdraws his hand. Thinking she may have crossed the line, and feeling her heart speeding in her chest, Esme turns to exit once more. 

“Excuse me…”

She leaves. 

When it's just him again he looks back up at his reflection. There are tears in his eyes and an expression that he can't pinpoint. 

All he knows is that for a second. Her touch, her soothing touch and words, brought him right back to that cottage.

Back to that couch, back to feeling prioritized.  

To being comforted. 

To being loved by somebody. 

[grapejuicestyless]

i have been loving the song big black car by Gregory Alan Isakov lately and was wondering if you could write something based on it? maybe Conrad … maybe harry? this song reminds me of autumn and blurry scenes out of train windows and i would love to see what you could do with it xxx fluff or angst, whatever best suits your mood at the time ⭐️🧚🏻🫂 sending you loooots of love! thank you!!!! <3

Big Black Car

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: “Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car.” She laughed, pointing at the empty streets. Stepping in the puddles, I watch our reflection bend. She sticks out her tongue, but I can only frown. I understand now that no matter how this ends she will forever haunt me. I’ll see her smile in the rain and hear her voice in the breeze. She was a phonograph, I was a kid. She was everything, and yet nothing.

ANGST

(I might write an alternate version thats fluffy lmk if thats something you would want <3)

I rode in red train cars with the patterned seats from the nineties. I read the novels my friends recommend me and I bit at my nails until they bleed. I leave red stains from my lipstick on my skin when I pull away, and I admire the leaves that stick to the cement.

I don’t mind the chill or the way my nose burns in the late November air. It reminds me of the holidays, big sweaters and sweet n’ low sugar in dirty coffee cups. I don’t complain about the dirt on my shoes or the wetness on the bottom of my jeans. I don’t care about how wild my hair is or how my smile is crooked and my freckles are scattered.

The world is spinning, round and round like a carousel. What would I be if I were to stop and complain. To sit still on a world made for dancing, a world that gifts us the chance to take it all in just once.

So I don’t mind that I had to ride hours in a train to get to Boston. And I don’t care how he doesn’t wait for me on the platform like I would’ve. After all we are only gifted our place on this earth once. I’ve learned to hold no grudges, have no anger. I remember that I am not the only one living this life for the first time.

The red of their front door is the same red of my nails. The same red of my lips, the same flush of my nose and the red of my scarf. The color maroon reminds me of the fall, of the traditions and the cinnamon. Chai and tights and boots and fairy lights.

When the door opens, it’s Susannah who opens it. Her blonde hair is shorter and she has more wrinkles. The same smile lines she used to pull back and the creases between her eyebrows she used to complain about. There was nothing to complain about. Why would anyone ever be ashamed of the tattoos of their happiness. How beautifully they age. So I tell her she looks beautiful every chance I get. And I don’t say it just because I want to make her feel good, but because I mean it, and I hope she can see it too.

“Y/n, come in, come in!” She ushers me inside of the house, and her hands rub along my arms like I’d been waiting for hours in the baron winter. Then again, she’s more ill than I would ever be. She believes it’s colder than it truly is.

Unwrapping my scarf, I hang it on the banister. I leave my shoes by the door on the mat right below where my jacket hangs off the hook.

“Wheres Conrad?” I cant help but ask, running my fingers through each other repeatedly. The cold nipped at my fingertips and the wind blew harshly into my face, but it was autumn finally and I was in Boston. So who could complain?

“He’ll be down soon. Just finishing up some cleaning. You know how messy he is.” She smiles as she leaves, tending to the kitchen, making mashed potatoes and some main dish that smells like spices and butter.

The door at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs creaks, and heavy footsteps follow. There he is, I can breathe. I can breathe and I do, because the air is so much fresher when it’s the same air I get to share with my Conrad.

His hair is darker blonde than it was in the summer, and his sweater clings to his body perfectly. He looks so soft and cozy. It’s the same shade of maroon as my scarf and my nails and my nose and my lips. He’s smiling, faintly but I can see it. Right underneath the dark circles of his eyes, under his button nose. He’s just as charming as I remember.

“Con.” She breathed. She breathed like it was her first deep breath in a long time.

She looked so beautiful. Someone straight from a magazine. I swore even the lights above her head bent so they could shine down just on her. Full of so much life, so much love. I couldn’t help but feel dull being so close to her. A Plain Jane standing next to the most gorgeous woman. A miracle beside I, someone who was simply holding his space.

Each step seemed to draw out longer, my resistance to give into the warmth she radiated. The kindness that seeped out of her. She was understanding, smart. That empathy of hers really was a gift. A gift I wish I had, because then maybe I wouldn’t be thinking the things I was right now. Maybe then I could be happy with what I had.

When my mom called for us a few moments later, I silently thanked god for sparing me from my thoughts. The thoughts of her red lips, red nails, red scarf and how we looked like we matched. How I wanted to rip the cotton from my skin to differentiate us. To separate us physically.

I picked at my food with my fork that night at dinner. Pushing around the turkey and chewing at my cheek. Like she knew something was wrong she grabbed my hand, holding it under her own. She didn’t force me to curl my fingers into hers, which I appreciated. She knew, of course she did. How something was wrong. It wasn’t like me to be so distant, so closed off. No, not to the girl who had run around the beaches with me in late July, flying kites and kicking over each other’s sandcastles in fake fury.

She pressed a kiss to my hand then, and I saw the slight stain of red on my skin. She laughs about it, but doesn’t rub it away. But the red burns my skin and the reminder of her being so close hurts my heart. I rub it away quickly, smiling softly to her and letting her hand go. She doesn’t really mind it, and if she did she doesn’t have time to frown about it. Jeremiah is already asking about her college friends and if any of them are single. It makes her laugh, but he was being serious. Which is probably why it was so funny to her.

I can tell by the way he pulls at his collar and sweats from his brow that he’s tense. I know him too well for him to hide from me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting to see him brush away the mark of my kiss on his hand, but the pain is dulled by his family and his soft smile assuring me he’s still down on earth right here beside me. It’s all my naive, young love sick brain could ever need from him, and I’m back on my feet.

He doesn’t hold me like he once did. Maybe the salt in the air had clouded his vision, maybe the sunlight made everything feel more genuine. Maybe thats why he once held me like it was his purpose. Like by not having me, he was killing himself. Maybe it was the changing seasons, or maybe it was his mother. But then again, he doesn’t talk much anymore anyways. At least, thats what Jeremiah says at dinner.

He complains how Conrad has no friends at school because he prefers to sit quietly in his dorm, the door only open because his roommate requested it to be so. How his mouth is never dry, he must have so much to say but never says it. His teasing turns sour when Conrad shrugs and mumbles something I don’t quite catch under his breath. I understand it to be something bitter, something rude from the way his eyebrows are furrowed and how Jeremiah’s smile drops. He tries to find his train of thought again, but the more jokes he tries to make towards his brother, hoping for that old banter, the more he is met with silence. Soon the fork is thrown to the plate and the brunette is gone into the backyard to talk with the neighborhood stray cat.

I clear my throat, understanding the discomfort coming from Susannah, the anger pouring from Jeremiah and the quiet coming from Conrad. All their faces are red, blushing in embarrassment. Red like Jeremiahs eyes right before he stormed off. It didn’t really make sense, how quickly it turned sour.

Susannah gathers the plates in her hands, uncaring about the way potatoes fall to the floor or how the carrots roll onto the table cloth. I ask her if she needs help, I beg her to let me but she shoos me away.

“It’s too nice out to be here with me in the kitchen. I’ve always found peace in the repetitive action of doing dishes.” She explains calmly, “This time of year is too short to spend inside. You kids go have fun.” She tries to persuade. And I’m not going to go, but Conrad puts his hand in mine for the first time all night, and his pull is so magnetic I don’t even care how I barely have time to slip on my jacket and my boots. I don’t care that my scarf still hangs from the banister or how i’m slightly thirsty.

It’s wet outside, the sky painted with a sunset so pure, it felt like Van Gogh had to have painted it himself. Last bits of sunlight shining through the tree branches and down onto the street. As soon as we’re far enough to never turn back, not run in to aid Susannah, he drops my hand.

I think it must be from the way his palms get clammy when they are warm enough, but he sets them in his pockets and pushes down. I wish he would talk more, I see why Jeremiahs teasing slowly became bitter. I wish I knew what to say to him.

Her eyes look everywhere but into mine. I can feel them. In my pockets, on my feet, in the sky, through the bushes and over the stone wall that fell with the rain next door. I can hear her breathing in the silence, see her smile with the passing puddles. And her footsteps in the mist that falls down gently.

“Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car.” She jokes, pointing at the empty streets. I watch a large van pass by, a single man with a frown behind the wheel. The jokes not that funny, is it even a joke? I’m not even sure. Maybe it was my silence, or my unwillingness to play nice. Maybe she was just making conversation.

Stepping in the puddles, I watch our reflection bend. She sticks out her tongue, but I can only frown. I understand now that no matter how this ends she will forever haunt me. I’ll see her smile in the rain and hear her voice in the breeze. She was a phonograph, I was a kid. She was everything, and yet nothing.

I’m thankful when I see the red door cracked open on my house. I’m thankful that my mother is asleep on the couch and my brother is distracted by the orange cat rolling on his back for stomach scratches. I’m thankful for my father’s absence and how quietly Y/n hangs her coat. I’m thankful I don’t have to make conversation and that the day is almost over. At least when I’m asleep, I have an excuse to ignore everyone.

My room feels like heaven. Carpet under my sock clad feet and the pillows bent in the way I slept. I’m ready to lay back and let the day melt into a faint memory. I’m ready to forget how I feel, and what I love.

The bed dips beside me when I lay down. I can hear the sigh leave her lips, conversation on the tip of her tongue. So I pull her back to my chest and hold her close.

“Con,” She mumbles quietly. I haven’t quite mastered the evening of my breathing. She knows I’m awake. “Why won’t you talk to me?” She asks, solemnly. Like my silence physically pains her.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” I don’t feel like talking. I can’t. Not now, I’m afraid it will all come out. I’ll spew out complements to cover my insecurities. How wonderful she is, a summer breeze passing through the darkest winters. The first break of sun after a long tireless night. And how I cannot compare, how I cannot have her because it’s not fair to keep the more deserving from her.

When she pulls away, the heater is not enough to warm my cold heart. When she frowns, my pillows aren’t comfortable enough to ease the pain in my heart.

Shes pacing the room, rubbing her temples. Her fingers leave little marks, changing the color of her skin slightly when she pulls too hard. It fades back into its warmth when he fingers fall to her sides.

“What do you want from me, Con?” Her voice shakes, but she does not shy away. She doesn’t run. She will fight with all she has, even if she trembles and cries. And she will speak until she has nothing left to say.

“I don’t know.” I admit shamefully, standing up, my long strides close the gap between us. I want to hold her in my arms and put her in my pocket forever. A photo would never be enough. A photo didn’t hum little melodies in the kitchen, a photo didn’t make stupid jokes and a photo didn’t have her laugh.

When my hands reach up to hold her, they settle on her face. I don’t know what to say, I can’t find the words. My lips stutter and only a squeak can get past my lips.

Her fingers meet my left hand, holding her hand gently on top of mine. But unlike at the dinner table, she interlocks our fingers and holds me there.

She presses another kiss to the palm of my hand, and like she had earlier, the red from her lips left a soft remnant of her lips. Staining the skin with a weak smudge. When she went to wipe it away, I flinched. Why did I flinch?

"No, don't." I pleaded softly. I watched her inch away.

"What are you playing at Conrad? One minute you hate me, the next you want me." I didn't hate her. I just didn’t know.

God, how could she think I hated her? All l ever wanted was her. I just loved her too much. I was drowning in her. Slowly killing myself.

"I don't know." I couldn't say much more, I couldn't even look at her anymore. This time, she drops my hand. And the red from her lips stings my skin like a bullet through my palm. But the tears in her eyes hurt much more than a loaded gun. I would have rather been shot through the ribs than see the way her eyes glossed over because of me. How her lips quivered and finally shut. She had no more back and forth to pursue. She had said everything she wanted to say. We had run our course, it seemed.

“Loose my number, Conrad.” And shes gone like the wind, out of the door in silence other than the shaking of the coat rack and the movement of her boots. I swear I hear Jeremiah come inside. He asks very softly where shes going. I imagine she’s smiling, holding his cheek like the good big sister she is to him. His role model that I so selfishly ripped away from him by breaking her heart. I wonder if they’ll keep in touch now that it’s over.

When the door shuts, I notice two things. One, Jeremiah is standing at the door, eyes wide and mouth open. He looks confused until he sees me, and the anger is surely possessing his body by now, but he doesn’t seem to want to move. His hand stuck to his cheek, covering the stain of red left behind on his cheek. The final kiss goodbye. I know then, he won’t hear from her that often anymore. At least, not right now.

Second, I notice the maroon scarf hanging on the banister. It’s soft and still smells like her perfume. I can smell it when I get too close. It’ll stay in our home, along with her jokes and the piece of her heart she left behind when her first love shattered her heart. Maybe it’s the look of guilt on my face, or the tears in my own eyes, but Jeremiah makes his way to me finally. And I expect a punch once he reaches the third step, but instead his arms wrap around my body and his head tucks into my shoulder.

He mumbles something about it being okay, but it’s muffled against the loud memories of her that I try to keep locked in my mind so that I never forget them. He says it more for himself than for me, and I understand that I’ve left not one heart in pieces, but three.

Leaving that house, I leave behind pieces of me I wish I never gave away. I leave behind the Pinterest boards of wedding dressing and flowers and rings in boxes. I leave behind our future dog’s name and the house we picked out in the summer, the future we dreamed about.

Suddenly the color maroon didn't remind me of autumn anymore. Not of the traditions and the cinnamon. Chai and tights and boots and fairy lights.

It reminds me of the blood I left on my fingers where I bit them. Of the blood pouring from my heart now that it's shattered. Of the train I'll be riding home far too soon. Of my favorite scarf, that still hangs from the banister. That still smells like his house. That I wonder if he will keep it or toss it.

I went tor a walk that next morning. The sun wasn't up yet, and the birds were long gone. Families snuggled inside of their homes. When I walked down the stairs, I let my fingers touch the cool wood of the banister to wake me. I let my hand rub over the soft scarf thats not mine, but hers. And I bring it to my nose to see if I can still smell her.

When I go for my walk I turn to the left every time until I'm almost back home. I've gone in big circles.

Everywhere yet no where. When I reach the street sign, a neighbor honks to me. He's at the stop sign, driving a big black car. I don't wave back. I'm far too shocked to move. The same sad man sitting in the car with his dog in the seat beside him and his aging mother curled up in the backseat. He doesn’t look so sad today. He looks indifferent, but not sad.

When he drives away I can't help but raise my arm. I point. "Heartbreak, drives a big black car." I joke. And only now do I find the joke funny. Only now that I'm hurting.

[ternfic]

The Atlantis Expedition

Chapter Twenty-Six: A Kiss To Build A Dream On

As it turned out, no one else particularly wanted to break up their group just yet either, so Metalbeard dropped anchor for them to stay the night. Though the phonograph was one of the salvaged items, and Sirius obligingly played some music for them, their celebration was a rather subdued affair. It hung over them like a heavy cloud, the thought that they would all have to split up and return to their humdrum lives the next day. Bricksburg was less than a day’s sailing away.

Emmet stood at the railing, watching the sun as it slowly sank beneath the water, painting the sky vibrant orange and deep blue. Lucy stepped up beside him, laying one of her hands over his wordlessly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Emmet said. “You don’t see sunsets like this in the city, all the buildings get in the way. But out here, you get such a perfect view.”

Lucy smiled and squeezed his hand. “It’s lovely,” she agreed. “Hey, Emmet…”

“Hm?” he asked, not looking away from the horizon.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, for a while now…” He finally turned to look at her, gaze questioning. “Do you ever regret being dragged into our fight? I mean, you nearly died like three times, and got hurt so many others… Not to mention, we probably didn’t make a great first impression…”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Emmet teased. “But… no. I don’t regret it. How could I? I made some of the best friends I’ve ever had, met the most amazing woman…” Lucy blushed. “And I learned some very valuable lessons, about myself, and the world. All the scary, painful things I went through in those three days? Totally worth the family I finally found in you all.”

Lucy smiled at him, wiping her eyes. “I really don’t understand how so many people could just overlook you the way they did. They really need to take another look, cause you are such a remarkable person, Emmet. And I’m so glad I met you.” She leaned in, gently pressing her lips to his. Emmet’s face turned bright red, and he kissed her back enthusiastically.

“I love you too,” he told her when they finally pulled apart, and she smiled. A shriek startled the pair, and they turned to see Unikitty with an impossibly wide grin.

“OHMYGOSH YOU GUYS!!” she gushed, bouncing. Lucy’s face turned crimson with embarrassment, and Emmet gave a shy grin, pulling her close. “That was soooo cute!”

“It’s about time,” Benny teased, snickering.

“Oh, leave the kids alone, ye two,” Metalbeard scolded. “They don’t need ye bein’ all up in their business.” Unikitty giggled and bounced away, and Benny gave them a wink before moving back to Bad Cop’s side. Lucy grumbled, burying her face in Emmet’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know we had an audience…”

Emmet smiled and held her close. “They’re just happy for us. They mean well.” Lucy closed her eyes, relaxing in his hold.

After the sun set and the stars came out, they rejoined their friends, sitting on the deck and staring up at the night sky, another sight so rarely seen in Bricksburg. Almost predictably, Metalbeard started in with stories about the constellations and how they were formed. Lucy smiled when Emmet’s head dropped to her shoulder, the construction worker snoring softly, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he dozed.

Business had a limo waiting for them when they arrived at the docks, ready to drive everyone back to their apartments. They said their goodbyes to Metalbeard and Unikitty before the captain and the princess went their separate ways. Emmet bounced excitedly in his seat, trying very hard not to press face and hands against the windows as he craned his neck to see. “This is my first time riding in a limo,” he enthused, grinning.

Business chuckled. “Well I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Lucy giggled and took Emmet’s hand as he continued to bounce. “Calm down, you silly thing.”

“You know,” Business said as he watched the young couple, “trying to teach you two to dance has made me realize how much I miss it. Don’t know who I could convince to go with me now, though.”

“Aww Busy,” Benny cooed. “We need to find you a girlfriend!” Bad Cop choked and started coughing, and Business simply raised an eyebrow at the astronaut.

“While I appreciate the thought, no one in their right mind is going to want to date the guy that tried to end the world.”

“Geez, B, breathe,” Benny said as he patted the cop’s back.

The limo slowed to a stop, still a few blocks away from Emmet’s apartment. They glanced out the windows to see the streets crowded with people fighting. “What in the world…?” Emmet was unbuckled and out the door before Lucy could grab him, Bad Cop not far behind. The remaining three glanced at each other.

“Might as well,” Lucy said with a shrug, and unstrapped herself to get out.

Emmet froze as he looked around. There was a number of new buildings that had been constructed in their absence, and partially torn back down, along with a number of other buildings he did recognize. From the architecture, the new ones looked to be of Master Builder make. Emmet winced as he recognized some of the people in the crowd as Master Builders, and they seemed at odds with the citizens of Bricksburg.

Bad Cop sighed, put two fingers to his mouth, and whistled.

Loudly.

The fighting came to an abrupt end as everyone turned to find the source of the noise. Bad Cop loomed behind Emmet, arms folded across his chest as he gave the crowd a very disapproving frown. “Aw, crap,” someone muttered.

“Guys, what the heck happened?!” Emmet asked as he pulled his hands away from his ears.

“Dude, I think that’s the loudest I’ve ever heard you get,” Benny giggled.

“They started it!” someone shouted. Emmet identified her as Janet, one of the employees at the dry cleaners down the street from him. “They came into our city like they own the place and started making ‘improvements’ that no one asked for or even wanted!”

“They were falling apart! We were trying to help!”

“They were under renovation and already had a new design planned, now they have to tear it all down and start over again! And as if that wasn’t enough, you can see all these buildings they just crammed in wherever they felt like! If they’re not in the way, they’re creating a hazard!”

“Not to mention the attitudes,” Larry deadpanned. “Acting like you’re such heroes. In case you all forgot, we fought on Taco Tuesday too. We don’t owe you anything, we saved our own lives.”

“You only fought the last battle, we’ve been fighting for the entire war!”

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Emmet groaned.

“I’m with you on that,” Benny agreed, rolling his eyes. “It’s like watching a bunch of little kids arguing over who won the game. We’re all adults here, can we please act like it??”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, can we talk this out and solve our differences like grown-ups. Which we were expecting you to do while we were gone, but apparently no one here is mature enough to referee themselves. It’s time to drop the egos, guys, if we don’t want to wind up right back where we were. I’ve been saying it for five years- being Master Builders doesn’t make us any better than anyone else. You all treated Emmet like trash, yet guess who was the one to even come close to stopping the Kragle? Did you forget Lucy’s speech already, or did you just not listen?”

The Master Builders looked somewhat shamefaced at that, and Lucy rolled her eyes. “Probably didn’t listen. I hate to admit it, but I probably wouldn’t have either, if I hadn’t been a part of the raid myself.”

“And as for everyone else- believe me, I know how hard Master Builders are to deal with. I wasn’t always one myself, and I had such a hard time trying to fit in that I eventually just gave up ever having any real hope of that. But Master Builders are amazingly creative people, and I can tell you from first-hand experience how sometimes the itch to just make something is impossible to ignore. Kinda comes with the territory. So I ask that you please have patience with us. And if we’re going to make things work now, it’s going to take concessions from both sides.”

“Have you been taking speechifying lessons from Emmet?” Sirius teased. Benny feigned wide-eyed surprise.

“There’s lessons?”

Lucy started giggling. “Dork.”

“Nah, it’s just a matter of having the experience from both sides of the coin. I get everyone’s complaints, I really do. But I also see a lot of it comes just from sheer bull-headedness. If everyone could just set aside their pride and try understanding things from the other person’s point of view, then we’d really make some progress.”

They seemed to be thinking about it, all sense of hostility fading away. “I just wanna know one thing,” Emmet said. “Why didn’t Ellen put a stop to this before it got so bad?”

“Because she decided to go on ‘permanent vacation’ about a week after you left,” Larry explained. “And the Bricksburg police are really only good at directing traffic- seems you guys did your job a little too well,” he directed at Bad Cop, who seemed only mildly surprised that the truth about their job had finally come out. “So we’ve been left largely to our own devices.”

“There’s seriously nobody in charge here?” Sirius gaped.

“Not unless Emmet takes the job.”

“Guys,” Emmet sighed. “Look, I appreciate you think I’m capable, but I never wanted that much power. I just really don’t think it’s for me, I like the job I have now! So, again, that’s a no.”

Larry then turned to Business, giving him a contemplative look. “What about you?” he asked after a long moment. Sirius startled.

“You’re seriously asking me to be President again? You were all trying to get me out of office when we left!”

“Well aside from the whole Kragling thing and making it ridiculously difficult to get coffee, of all things, imported, you actually did a pretty good job. Things never got crazy here. It just… took us a while to remember that.”

“Well then.” Sirius looked up at Bad Cop. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Certainly seems that way, Sir.”

Emmet had moved over to speak with the Master Builders. “Maybe you guys should return to Cloud Cuckooland again, just until things settle back down. I’m sure Unikitty will be happy to see everyone again, anyway!”

“I think you’re right,” Carrie agreed. “We did kinda muff this up, didn’t we? But you and your friends gave us a lot to think about, so who knows? Maybe next time will go better.”

“I certainly hope so!” Emmet smiled. “And we’ll work on getting everyone else here to relax about having you guys around. We didn’t exactly give them enough time to adjust to the idea of it before we left, we were in a bit of a hurry.”

Carrie smiled back at him. “Well now that you’re back, I’m sure we can make it work. Bye, Emmet!” He waved as they left.

“Where are they going?” Lucy asked, walking up and taking his hand.

“Back to Cloud Cuckooland for a while. Maybe the third time will be the charm?”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Maybe. You know, it’s not so far. Why don’t we just walk the rest of the way back home? It’ll save Sirius’ driver the trouble of trying to get through the crowd.”

Emmet beamed at her, swinging their arms. “Let’s!”

“Well that’s those two taken care of,” Bad Cop observed, watching the couple walk down the street hand in hand. Sirius allowed himself a shaky sigh once all eyes were off them. “You alright?”

“I think so? I just really wasn’t expecting that. Not for a million years. I can’t believe they actually asked me to come back as President!”

“Will you be staying at Octan Tower?” Benny asked, and he winced.

“To be honest, I really don’t want to. I really don’t like having such an obvious reminder of all the terrible things I did before, and… it’s really lonely. I don’t think I ever realized how much I like having people around. But Octan’s… pretty much bankrupt right now. I checked in with Velma while everyone else was sleeping last night, profits have pretty much flatlined while we’ve been gone. As much as I’d like to move here and be closer to you all, I doubt I can afford it at this point. At least I own the island and the tower, and I had it built to be self-sufficient since there’s obviously no way I was going to run power or water lines that far across the sea.”

“Why don’t you stay with me for a while, then?” Benny offered. “I promise it won’t be any trouble. I have the space, and that way you’ll be close and won’t have to commute so far to get to work.” He grinned. “Mister President.”

Sirius perked up a bit at that, giving him a sheepish smile. “Is it bad that I’m really happy to hear that again?”

“Nah. Come on guys, let’s go home.”

[press-theshift-key-unlimited]

Adore

A/N: I found this from a while ago. Don't remember why I never posted it, but here you go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hermione POV:

When I met Y/n, it was on the train to Hogwarts in year 1. I had just boarded the Hogwarts Express and was looking for a place to sit when I had come across her sitting alone in one of the compartments.

I knocked on the door and she turned her head towards me and gave me a small smile. “Do you mind if I sit here?” I had asked.

“No of course,” she said and gestured me to come in.

I sat across from her and her smile grew.

“My names Y/n, Y/n Y/ln,” she put her hand out to shake and I put mine in hers.

“I’m Hermione Granger, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, you have a beautiful name,” she pulled her hand back into her lap as my smile grew more at her compliment.

“Thank you, I like your name as well,”

We sat there in silence for a bit as she looked out the window. We hadn’t moved yet and we were on the side of the train with no people visible.

“What are you looking at?”

“Hm? Oh nothing in particular, i’m just waiting for the train to move,”

I hummed as she continued.

“Is this your first year?” she asked as she looked back at me.

“Yes it is, is it yours?”

She nodded and I felt more at ease. At least I met someone in my year. “Have you ever heard of Hogwarts? Before you got your letter I mean.”

“No. I’m a muggle-born so all of this is very new to me. However, I have read a lot about this stuff.”

“Well you know, knowing something and experiencing it could come to be very different things,” she looked back at me with an eyebrow raised. “Or at least that’s what my Uncle tells me,” she chuckled a bit and we heard the train horn sound as we started to move along the tracks.

We could hear a commotion across from our seats as kids started sticking their heads out of the windows and yelling goodbye’s and I love you’s to their families once more.

~ ~ ~ ~

That train ride is what sparked our friendship and we have been best friends for 5 years now. We’re in our 6th year and are sharing a dorm together. Good thing we were both put in Gryffindor, along with our other friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. We met them on the train as well in year 1, but that was because a boy named Neville lost his toad and we had offered to help him look for it.

Which led us to asking the pair if they had seen it, safe to say that at first the four of us were split between duos. The boys didn’t seem to take a liking to me, especially Ron, yet Y/n had somehow befriended them. I mean I understand how, she’s someone you just always want to have around if you can. But she stuck with me the whole time. It wasn’t until the three of them had saved me from being, as Y/n puts it, bonked down to a pancake, by a troll in the girl’s bathroom that we all finally joined together as a group. Y/n likes to think of us as ‘The Golden Squad, I think it’s a bit stupid but my opinion seems to not matter in this case as Ron agreed to the name and Harry just went along with it, saying it had a nice ring to it.

But I digress. Currently i’m heading back to my dorm from the library. We have a test in potions next week that I wanted to review for. Y/n was going to come with me, but she cancelled last minute. To say I was hurt wouldn’t be a lie, but she said she needed to do something and could study later. So I left and am now on my way back, hopefully she’ll tell me what it was that she had to do that prohibited her from joining me in the library.

I got through the portrait hole and up the stairs towards the dormitories. As I was nearing our dorm, I heard the soft strum of a guitar coming from behind the door. I slowly walked up and put my ear to the wood to listen.

You were a phonograph, I was a kid

I sat with an ear close, just listening

I could hear Y/n softly singing, her voice muffled by the space between us but still clear enough to understand.

Was there when the rain tapped her way down you face

You were a miracle, I was just holding your space

She sounded calm and sang with a low hum as she continued to pick the strings of her guitar. I always found her voice to be endearing, singing or not. It calmed me and I found some kind of peace and joy whenever I heard it. I’ve never told her this of course, because that would be weird..right?

I decided to stop standing out in the hallway and slowly open the door, hoping that she wouldn’t notice and continue to play. But as soon as I peered my head into the room she looked up from her journal and stopped what she was doing. She gave me a smile, a smile i’ve grown to love seeing, and put down her guitar as she walked over to me.

“Hey ‘Mione,” she greeted as she gave me a hug. 

I smiled and reciprocated, easing my head on her neck and giving her a muffled “Hey Y/nn.”

She kissed the top of my head and pulled away from me, going back to her side of the room. “How was your studying?”

“It was alright, wish you were there. Why weren’t you by the way?”

“Oh I needed to finish something important. But i’m done with it now,” she put her guitar on its stand and sat on her bed. I hummed and set my stuff down on my desk. I turned around to find her laying on her back just staring up at the ceiling. I smirked and backed up a little before bolting straight for her bed and yelling. She shot her head up and opened her arms letting me land on top of her as I threw myself onto the bed.

We laughed and she hit me with one of her pillows.

“What have I told you about doing that?”

I thought about it for a moment before replying, “That you love it when i’m on top.”

She shook her head and set her pillow back down. Getting comfortable, I laid my head on her chest as she had one hand around my waist, the other playing with my hair. “You’re going to be the end of me ‘Mione,” she sighed and I stifled a laugh.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I pouted and she just laughed.

“With you Granger? It’s an honor,”

I blushed and dug my face into her chest, “shut up,”

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 26: Lily's Favorite Thrall

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, vampiric blood drinking

Miss Lily's room was on the third floor of the auction house, and it was flanked by a pair of thralls with lifeless eyes. She opened the door with a large brass key and let Oliver inside. 

It was sumptuous, the kind of room he imagined a royal or celebrity might stay in, with two enormous four-poster beds, wooden furniture with intricate carvings, thick rugs that his stockinged feet sank into, and softly flickering oil lamps -- a necessity, since there were no windows. 

A woman was sitting in a plush chair in the corner, doing some complex embroidery project, and she immediately stood up to greet them. She was wearing a dusty pink cotton dress with a frilly white apron, and something about her friendly smile and slightly glassy eyes made her look a bit off. There was a prominent scar on the side of her neck.

"Welcome home, Madam!" she said with excessive cheer. "Did the auction go well?"

"Absolutely splendid, Miriam, couldn't ask for better," she said. "Oh, and this is Oliver. Don't fret, he won't be replacing you, love. He was just purchased by Lord Alexander, and I'm going to be watching him for a few days."

"Please to meet you, Oliver," she said with a little curtsy.

"Pleased to meet you as well."

"You're so lucky to be bought by Lord Alexander!" she enthused.

"Yes, I certainly hope so..."

"You won't believe how much Alexander paid for him," said Miss Lily. "Twenty thousand dollars."

"That much!" Miriam gasped.

"And that means a fat wallet for me. I'll be buying the latest phonograph and selling the record shop out of jazz albums."

"Oh, lovely! I can't wait!"

"And I'm going to buy a new mink coat. I should get a matching mink stole for you as well, Miriam. What do you think?"

"That'd be very fetching, madam! I would love that very much," she said joyfully.

"Is there anything you'd like for yourself?"

"Oh, well... I saw the most darling pair of calf leather half-boots in a magazine yesterday, and it listed a mail order address. Could I have those, please, madam?"

"We'll send away for them -- consider it done," said Miss Lily, clearly in high spirits. "And servants will be bringing up dinner for you and Oliver. Roast chicken and all the accompaniments, and chocolate cake besides."

Miriam was looking at Miss Lily as though the sun rose and set on her. "You're so thoughtful, madam, and so good to me."

"Of course, love, anything for my darling. And after dinner... I'll be taking a meal, as well."

Miriam's adoring gaze became a bit more distant and glassy. "Yes, please, madam, you deserve it."

Miss Lily rose from the bed where she'd been taking off her heels. "I'm going to be in the washroom, fixing myself up. Miriam, why don't you help Oliver out of all those fussy clothes -- I've told the servant to bring up a nightgown for him. You two can chit-chat while I take a breather."

"Here, yes, stand here, Oliver, and I'll unlace your corset and help you out of the crinoline."

"Oh, yes, thank you," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed to be helped out of his underwear by a woman he'd just met, but Miss Lily had ordered it, so... 

"So, how long have you been with Miss Lily?" he asked, trying to lessen the awkwardness with conversation.

"Four years now."

"And she treats you well?"

"Oh, absolutely!" There was something strange in her beaming grin. "She treats me very well, and I want for nothing. I love her with all of my heart. When I'm with my madam, I never have to feel sad or lonely or any other unpleasant feelings. Every day is like a beautiful dream."

"I see. That sounds very nice," said Oliver, politely, but quietly disturbed. "Does she... condition you?" he asked, unable to stop himself from the obvious but possibly impolite question.

"Oh yes, all of the time! She's very good at it, and I love madam's spell. Sometimes I spend days just floating in mindless bliss, as a reward. Sometimes she wants to practice different things on me. Not that I'm very good practice, since I always go under immediately for my madam."

Well, he didn't know what else he would expect from Miss Lily's personal thrall. He remembered how good her hypnotic trance had made him feel, how easily he'd succumbed, how he was still in it now. If he were in Miriam's place, would he be any different? Would he eventually have his feelings and his individuality erased, living life as though in a dream?

Just as Miriam finished removing everything but his shorts and chemise, there was a knock on the door, which she ran to answer. It was a servant bearing a wooden tray with a small roast chicken and an entire dinner spread, and Oliver went to help her carry it in. There was also a folded nightgown in his size, one with an open neck and a blue ribbon around the collar and bottom, and he put it on.

The food was delicious -- roast chicken seasoned with herbs, jacket potatoes with salt and butter, garden salad with vinaigrette dressing, warm and fluffy rolls, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert. 

"Have you met Lord Alexander yet? Since he bought you?" Miriam asked as she tore into a chicken leg in an undignified manner he wouldn't have expected.

"I actually knew him... before," said Oliver. "He was a patron of my bookshop."

"Before?" she said curiously.

"Before... this. Before I was a thrall." 

"Oh. That's quite a coincidence," she said. "I don't remember anything from before I was a thrall."

"Nothing?" he said. Miriam seemed to have enough of her faculties about her that he was surprised to learn she'd been memory wiped. "Did your madam erase them?"

"She must have, to help me be less sad," said Miriam. "That seems right, but I don't remember that, either."

"...I see," said Oliver. He wondered if that was standard operating procedure, or simply something Miss Lily favored. Would Lord Alexander wipe his memories of ordinary human life, of his precious bookshop? He hoped not, even if they did make him sad.

Oliver swallowed hard, thinking of how enthralled he'd felt in Lord Alexander's mere presence, now that he was free to use his vampiric abilities. How easily he fell into the role of a servant. How he'd yearned to offer up his own blood. 

"Are you okay?" Miriam asked. "You seem to have a lot of thoughts in your head. My madam could help you with that, if you like. She's very good at it."

"Yes, I'm aware," said Oliver, fiddling with his glasses. "Say, Miriam, you're really the first thrall I've actually gotten to talk to. What's your routine like? What do you think it will be like for me?"

"Well... my madam lets me do whatever I please, as long as I don't disobey her rules or her orders. I spend most of my days sleeping, sewing, and doing whatever arts and crafts catch my fancy. Madam is very generous with supplies for my pastimes, as well as all my favorite foods and beautiful clothing," said Miriam, her eyes looking more focused as she pondered the questions. "And once a week, I get to provide Madam with my precious blood. I look forward to it all week. I'm so happy I found such a good purpose. Madam is such a beautiful and powerful vampire, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Oliver was mulling over "once a week." He wondered if that was typical or simply Miss Lily's preference.

"Lord Alexander's not as fun as Madam. He's always a little sad and he talks a lot about complicated and boring things," she continued. "But his house is very nice. Madam is friends with him, but every time we leave she says that Lord Alexander needs to get over himself and remove the stick from his ass."

"I... see," said Oliver, unsure of what to take from this. He dug into his slice of chocolate cake, rich and covered with coconut flakes. He hoped he'd at least continue to be fed well. Focusing on the delicious food was a good way to temporarily keep his head from spinning with the knowledge that he'd been purchased and was now the property of one of his bookshop patrons. 

"Are you two having a nice chat?" said Miss Lily, emerging from the bathroom in a fuzzy white robe, hair wrapped in a towel. 

"Yes, Madam! Thank you very much for ordering dinner for us!"

"Yes, thank you, sir," Oliver added.

"If you've had your fill then, Miriam," said Miss Lily, sitting on the edge of the bed, "then I would like to have mine."

Oliver felt the atmosphere in the room shift, his mind starting to fog with Miss Lily's vampiric aura. The effect on Miriam was pronounced -- her glassy eyes were big as saucers, the expression on her face somewhere between rapturous joy and confused daze. She stood up slowly, staring at Miss Lily as though she were the only thing that had ever mattered, and padded across the room like a sleepwalker, sitting next to her Madam, as docile as a lamb.

"There you are, dear heart," said Miss Lily, smiling and stroking her face, Miriam leaning into her touch. She turned momentarily to Oliver. "This will be instructive to you, to see what a feeding is like with a well-trained thrall."

Oliver's own eyes were fixated on the two of them, unable to look away if he tried. "Yes, sir."

"Now, Miriam," said Miss Lily, tilting her chin to look into her thrall's eyes. "When I drink from you, you will feel blissful and loved, as always. Because you are."

"Yes, Madam," said Miriam in a dreamy voice. "I love you so. Please, please drink from me."

Miss Lily ran a finger down Miriam's neck, touching her scar, causing Miriam to shudder in delight. Oliver could only watch as Miss Lily's fangs grew closer, Miriam perfectly still and utterly pliant, until finally her sharp fangs pierced Miriam's tender neck. Miriam made a soft noise, a euphoric look on her face as her madam began to drink, hungrily nursing at the punctures. 

As Miss Lily continued to quietly feed, Miriam's eyelids began to blink slowly, her head tilting forward to rest on her madam's shoulder. Shortly after, the vampire finished her meal by licking at the wounds, sealing them, not letting a drop of blood spill. Miriam's eyes were glazed over and she had a sleepy, contented smile on her face as Miss Lily cradled her in her arms.

"You did so well, dear. Thank you for the meal, as always," said Miss Lily. "Sweet dreams, and do not wake until evening." She laid Miriam in one of the beds, resting her head on the pillow and draping the covers over her, as Miriam sighed in contentment, closing her eyes and curling up to sleep.

Oliver didn't know when his own hand had gone up to grasp his neck. If that was what it would be like... he pictured himself being fed on in Miriam's place, and a confusing mix of dread and desire filled his heart. 

"Well, Oliver?" Miss Lily was unexpectedly in front of him. "Did you learn about feeding?"

"I think so, sir," he said, averting his eyes. He'd learned something all right, he just wasn't sure what it was.

"Good. Then it's time for you to sleep as well." She effortlessly scooped him up and laid him on the bed next to Miriam. "You're getting terribly sleepy, aren't you? Yes, that's a dear."

Oliver had a momentary sense of alarm at being placed next to Miriam in bed -- so improper -- but she was out cold and it was quite obvious that nothing untoward was about to happen. His eyelids grew heavy as Miss Lily pulled the silk sheets and thick blanket over him. He'd never been in so fine a bed before.

"Sleep now, Oliver," she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Go to sleep and have sweet dreams, free of worry, free of care. Sleep so peacefully until evening."

As his eyes shut tight, he was actually grateful that Miss Lily was putting him to sleep, as it'd spare him the anxious tossing and turning that would no doubt plague him after a day where he'd been sold to a vampire.

And then he drifted away.

Part 25 >> Masterlist >> Part 27

Miriam was a kind and hardworking nurse. She had the misfortune of catching Lily's attention when she was walking home after a night shift.

Thanks for reading!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

[neerons]

hey neerons! ive been following you for a while and i would like to take a moment to express my gratitude towards your dedication to the fandom (kazuomi especially 😋) My question to you is, what music artists (or just the genre if you cant think of anyone particular) do you think the guys (and mc ofc) from masquerade kiss would listen to? Thank you again!

Hey anon! Thank you very much for your kind words and for following me for some time now! That means a lot ❤

What music artists/genre would the MK characters listen to?

Kei Soejima

This is a bit easier for me to notice it from his route but Kei is heavily tied to classical music overall, whether it’s him who chose the music or someone else. Considering his upbringing and culture it also makes sense that he would probably like it. He listens to religious songs as well, such as Ave Maria. Now I’m not sure if he actually likes religious songs but it must at least be nostalgic for him.

He has also been playing “Paganini’s 24 Caprices” on the violin in his Best vs First story. He attends many social events where such musics can be heard since he’s a noble. And during Caleb’s dinner trap, both Kei and MC fell asleep while a classical music was playing in the background, back in his Sacrificial Lover story.

I can see Kei listening to such music and appreciate it, and for me classical music acts as a sort of leitmotiv in his story

Kazuomi Shido

I think Kazuomi would appreciate any type of music that is glamorous or epic, such as musics that come from Hollywood movies. He doesn’t like being bored and loves stimulation, and while he can appreciate art in its many forms, ballads don’t seem to be his favorite thing. It can be seen in Yuzuru’s S1 when it’s Yuzuru’s turn to host the Masquerade restaurant’s events. Yuzuru chose a romantic ballad, and Kazuomi comments about how it lacks some sort of excitement and that he would have chosen something else.

When I think about Kazuomi, I’m thinking of how enticing and extravagant he is. He draws people in, through his charisma and attractiveness. I also think about how much he likes burlesque shows. I immediately would pick a sort of jazzy genre for him. I’m not too knowledgeable about the names of music genres, but after some research I think he would really be into Cabaret music, Swing and Jazz, and maybe Electro Swing as well.

Anything theatrical, sexy, mesmerizing, a bit epic and fun would probably fit his tastes. I’m not sure what genre the 2 romantic soundtracks of MK fit into, but they embody perfectly Kazuomi’s charm in my opinion

Yuzuru Shiba

As mentioned earlier, Yuzu chose a ballad in his S1 when it was his turn to host the party at Masquerade. It seems he likes this type of music, as when MC said how beautiful the performance was, the other guys commented how perfect they were for each other if MC can appreciate something Yuzu chose himself according to his own tastes.

Considering that he grew up for some time in Italy, it could be that he enjoys some genres that have an Italian influence as well, such as any music with a melodic and emotive vibe to it.

I can see Yuzu enjoying classical music like Kei as well, especially because when he was younger, he created a phonograph for Jun so she could listen to her collection of classical records. It doesn’t mean Yuzu himself is interested in classical music, but it wouldn’t be odd if it were the case

Seiichi Setoyanagi (Boss)

This time it’s not easy for me to picture a specific type of musical genre when it comes to Seiichi. I’m sure that as a part of his job, he must be at least a bit knowledgeable about the genres if he ever needs to create an alias with certain tastes, or if it’s his alias’ profession to work with music. However as an individual, I think he would be the type to prefer silence or the sounds of nature over any particular music.

I can’t remember any moment where there is a specific genre being mentioned for him or where he listens to anything. He seems to enjoy his peace and quiet when he’s not working due to his job, so I can picture him appreciating the sound of his environment. Sounds of crickets, tree branches in the wind, rain, etc…

Given his career, it wouldn’t be unlikely that compared to most people, silence is the most effective sound for him to relax

Masquerade Kiss MC

She is quite the romantic at heart, and finds Yuzu’s ballad during his S1 beautiful. She also likes the Mission Impossible movies so it could be that she likes epic musics as well. On a compatibility level, she is similar to Kazuomi when it comes to liking Broadway shows and their interest in movies. However, she’s more into romantic French films rather than American ones compared to him, so I’d say she likes romantic, and maybe even sensual songs.

Romantic ballads might be more of her thing. Just like the Boss, she must be quite knowledgeable about music enough for her to be able to create an alias, or maybe because she’s just into it, because in Kei’s route, she recognizes instantly the music that Kei plays on the violin. She also recognizes the long classical music played in Caleb’s residence in Sacrificial Lover.

I can’t be sure if she likes classical music as well, but I think any of them could enjoy it to some extent. In my opinion, anything that sets a romantic, heartfelt and emotive mood would be her type

On a side note, MC reminds me of the songs “Moonlight” by Kali Uchis, or the instrumental version of “Nothing Burns Like the Cold” by Snoh Aelegra when she’s in her seductive agent mode ♥️💋

Thank you for the ask!

[hi-phi]

To turn or to table? That is the question? (part 1/2)

(GIF from the 3rd patlabor movie: WXIII, watch it is over hated imo)

If you are looking to get into vinyl, looking for new ways to experience your music, already are into it but looking to expand your collection or to pick up a new to you turntable. You, my dearly beloved, are in luck. This blog will get you up to speed on the internal machinations of turntables and their differences.

A simple Wikipedia search will yield good information, but there are a couple of things it misses, mainly what I want you to learn from that search is that there are three (3) main types of turntables (known as a phonograph), the Belt drive, the Direct drive and the Idler-wheel drive. Each have pros, all have cons, all three do the same thing - play music from a plastic disc. About said plastic disc, how does it work? And more importantly, how does music get from the disc through the turntable and out of the speakers?? All three turntables have several things in common, such as; the stylus/needle, the tone arm, the cartridge and head shell. But what's most important about them are the differences, mainly, what makes the platter spin.

BELT-DRIVE:

My favourite example of a belt-driven turn table is the Rega planar series of turntables, especially the Rega planar 3 with its exposed belt. As the name implies, the belt-drive system involves a belt to drive the platter. This belt is first connected to a motor. This helps to insulate the platter from the motor, meaning less noise comes through from the motor, as the motor isn't directly connected to the platter.

The belt driven system comes with its own downsides. A belt is a "wear item" meaning that the more it is used, the worse it gets. It wears exponential, meaning it starts off slow but slowly ramps up, old belts lose tension and disintegrate. This is impossible to repair, but usually replacements can be bought, so keep that in mind when buying an older gal. She still deservers a loving home, of course, and belt-drives are very good platforms for high fidelity based system. You want the best sound quality, chances are you're looking for a belt drive.

DIRECT-DRIVE:

Direct-driven systems does away with the belt and simply connects the platter to the motor. Pioneered by Panasonic Technics, this system is commonly used and beloved by Disk Jockies and audiophiles alike. Low in maintenance and high in torque, these bad girls spin up faster than anything else on the market and are favoured for scratching. The best part, you don't need a bespoke DJ turntable to scratch (although recommended, as specially made turntables are able to put up with the abuse). Downsides are that the bigger, often times AC motors, create more noise. Without the suspension of the belt, the vibrations can be heard through the stylus. However, nowadays, new systems isolate the platter from the noise.

Of course, when putting platter to motor and making them one, the thing to look out for is the motor itself. As if that goes, it is bad news and more work will have to be done to simply replace the damn thing. However, as I mentioned, this system requires far less maintenance overall.

This marks the one of part 1. In the next blog post, I will talk about the Idler-Wheel system and basic general maintenance. This is also my second blog, ever. So please tell me where I can improve. Love you all, keep on rocking <3

[creehd]

SURPRISE!! its me again, ive moved into your walls.

Now... *flips through notes* You said Shredder is a Yakuza boss, which is just a delectable choice, and i shant ever get over it--

--BUUUUUT because hes Yakuza, does that mean hes...covered in tattoos? 👁👁

I meeean, i can kinda see some tattoos in the reference you drew for him, but i think we might need a shirtless reference, fOR SCIENTIFIC REASONS OF COURSEEEEE, absolutely no other reason.

I definitely dont wanna just see that buff man shirtless hahah nooooo *heavy breathing*

BUT ON A NOT SIMPING NOTE--

What is the Turtle's living situation like??? Is it still in the sewers? Do Casey and April visit them there? How different is their home in the AU compared to the modern depictions? I cant imagine sewers in the 20's were to much different than sewers now, but im still very curious :]

Sorry for the never ending questions skajsksks

YES shredder does have tattoos! Alot of em are traditional Japanese dragon design ones, I will map out what his chest and back tats look like don't you worry-

AS FOR THE SEWER QUESTION IM GLAD YOU ASKEDDD I made the entire turtle lair in the sims bc of this ask SO here we are,

The entrance to the sewers is pretty basic, shoot off to 6 open rooms,

Splinters room!! He's a pretty solitary guy so he has a place for meditation and a cozy lil chair he falls asleep in constantly.

Here's the rec room/kitchen, Lotta areas for food making and eating, and a piano Mikey plays every now and again for everyone! They also have a dinky little TV set donnie managed to snag. (Infront the couch)

The dojo!! Pretty basic, this is where the boys do their training!

The bathroom/storage! Very rustic and stolen and or built by Donatello. Lotta extra stuff splinter brought over from japan and misc living stuff for the family.

Now for the boys rooms!!!

Leo and Donatello share a room, leo keeps model trains and tons of books donnie can't house on his side, he's also got several Japanese tapestries to keep in touch with his heritage. He also has alot of art deco posters, he enjoys the colors and movement of them. He also keeps track of scout badges he's collected, because while be can't BE a boyscout, he loves the idea of scouting and following that code of values.

Donnies side is much more technical. He tinkers and builds things while listening to the radio, he'll turn it on for both him and Leo while they do respective activities. He also has Japanese tapestries, mostly because when the boys were small splinter got them each their own, and he never took it down. He's got tons of books and maps, and more physics leaning posters.

On the other side of the sewer, Raphel and Mikey share a room, in the middle they have a Foosball table they both enjoy from time to time, but on raphs side, he's got a punching bag (go figure) and a stereo radio phonograph, along with a chest of his things, his favorite stuffed toy, some art deco posters and a painting Mikey made him, along with a portrait of Casey, and a cow skull. He's taken the tapestry splinter gave him down. Says it clashes with the rest.

And last but not least! Mikey has the brightest part of the sewer, he enjoys plants, and taking care of them, he says they add life to the home. Along with several paintings he's done and art deco posters he enjoys! He's got a desk for Journaling and an easel for his portraits. He's also got his Japanese tapestry hung, it gives him inspiration.

All and all, not too different from their modern counterparts! I tried to make my little diorama art project as time period accurate as I could, for the sims yknow, but I think I did a pretty good job expressing my vision (although there was a sewer grate I COULD NOT find for the life of me so I just pretended don't look at it too hard)

April and casey visit on occasion, after all the portrait of Casey was painted by mikey!! Raph just felt... sentimental about keeping it. April visits less, due to grime, but she cares about her friends and can look past it after a good shower.

AND DONT YOU WORRY- I'll make a shredder tattoo masterpost, he's not covered head to toe, but he's pretty well inked up..

I had fun working on this alot tho!! Never apologize ur giving me an excuse to post about my brain worms

Questions or suggestions??? ASK BOX IS OPENNNNN ASK ME ABOUT MY 20S AU