#Now to work on finishing orders then figuring out which project to work on next!

[drfrogphd]

Vocaloid Heart Buttons (Pin-back/Magnet) are now available in my shop!

✨ drfrogphd.etsy.com

[hearts4golbach]

Can I request carrington x reader where his Lon term partner (reader) didn’t like flowers, so he makes her paper ones himself? Like those paper bouquets you see in like, booktok

Thank God for Tiktok.

pairing:

Carrington Bornstein x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

pre established relationship 👅

not proofread

warnings:

none.

word count:

1.0k

To say Carrington had been crafting for hours was an understatement. the sun had gone down a while back. He was sitting in his moonlit room surrounded by miscellaneous crafting tools and books. tomorrow was your birthday. no, he hadn't been procrastinating. he had ordered you a gift but stumbled upon the idea to make you paper flowers. you preferred not to get real flowers. You were always so upset when they inevitably died.

so, he was glued to his bed (pun intended), making you an immortal bouquet of paper flowers.

previously, he had rushed out of the house to go find some books he could cut up. clearly, he didn't own any, and he wasn't about to steal one of Johnnies' comics. he settled on going out, possibly to goodwill or target, to get a book or two for his project. he wandered to the arts and crafts section, getting a hot glue gun and sticks. he also found a pack of pipe cleaners and some ribbon. everything he had chosen was a perfect match for his vision. and with that, he was all set.

it had been about three and a half hours since then. he was about to finish the very last flower, then he'd have a set of exactly twenty. he mentally praised himself for how well they actually turned out. he even curled out the edges of the paper to imitate real flowers.

setting the last one in the pile, he admired his work. he couldn't help but smile to himself, dreaming of your reaction at dinner tomorrow night.

Carrington grabbed a handful of the dark green pipe cleaners and began attaching them to the paper flowers. thoughts of your bright smile plagued his mind.

he knew you'd be somewhat shocked at the present, considering he wasn't an arts and crafts type of person. when it came to you, he was up for anything.

he envisioned how the bouquet would look in your bedroom, grinning to himself whenever he realized it'd fit your aesthetic perfectly.

he sang to himself softly. the song that was playing reminded him of you. he was slightly relieved when gluing the stems on didn't take as long as the flowers themselves. he held the fairly large bouquet in one hand, a stupid smile plastered on his face. he tied a bow around the stems as perfectly as he could before setting it on his desk carefully.

as soon as he crashed into bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. ignoring the ache in his knuckles and the slight pounding in his head, he drifted off to sleep.

the next morning went by fast. he had a couple of 'business' things to figure out with Jake and Johnnie, which went by a lot quicker than he had figured. by lunchtime, he was anxiously waiting by his phone for you to respond. of course, he knew it'd take forever. you were at lunch with friends, and you were coming over straight after. it was a sort of nervous excitement. he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his gift.

Carrington decided against sitting there for another hour. he went to the bathroom and adjusted his hair. his curly dark brown locks hung in his face, complimenting his bright blue eyes. he tried to do something different with his hair, but there wasn't much. he knew you wouldn't care. You loved playing with his messy hair.

finally, his phone rang. your name and photo popped up on the screen. he scrambled to his phone and answered on the first ring. "Hi, baby." he greeted.

"Hey," he could hear the sudden smile in your voice, which made him grin. "im leaving now. Am I still good to come over?"

"Yeah. yeah, of course." he furrowed his eyebrows together, very expressive as he spoke even though you couldn't see his face.

you hummed and said goodbye before ending the call. you sped over there, so excited you drove over the speed limit without even realizing it.

meanwhile, Carrington prepped your present. he wrapped it in sparkly black, silver, and light blue wrapping paper. he taped the small card on top and grabbed the faux bouquet. he waited downstairs on the couch, holding the items in his lap.

whenever you arrived, you walked quickly up to the door. you knocked a couple of times before entering, which had become your usual routine.

Carrington jumped up and pulled you in for a hug. you felt contentment wash over you as his hands rested on the small of your back and his head in the crook of your neck.

he placed a kiss on your neck. "Happy birthday." he pulled away, beckoning you over to the couch. "c'mere."

you silently followed him over. he handed you the small box, which was neatly wrapped. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" he laughed, "it's a present."

"I told you I don't need anything," you scolded, a sincere tone in your voice.

"I wanted to get you something. open it!" he urged.

you rolled your eyes, a contradicting smile on your face. in the box, there was a beautiful necklace. it had 3 charms on it, your initial, Carringtons' initials, and a small heart. you pouted your lower lip and looked up at him. "I love it."

"im really glad," he grinned, handing you two more things. "Read the card later." he was embarrassed to see your reaction to what he wrote in person.

you sighed, "Fine." he finally handed you the bouquet.

your jaw fell to the floor as you looked at the beautiful, handmade flowers. "You made this?!"

he nodded, a prideful smile on his face. "I thought you'd really like them since you're a bookworm."

you paid no mind to his joke. you were absolutely starstruck by the flowers. "they're so beautiful, Carrington." You couldn't contain the soft smile that threatened to appear. you placed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I love you."

he placed a kiss on your forehead. "i love you." All he could think was, 'thank god for tiktok.''

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 99 (Winterfest Eve with the Nesbitt-Gordons)

Winterfest Eve was always busy. School and businesses were still open, so despite mourning the loss of Boomer, Heather and Conrad went to work, Ash went to school, and Lavender spent the day at daycare.

Ash was excited about a school project Conrad had been helping him with. For Career Day, every student had to interview someone about their job, and Ash picked Conrad. "On the next career day, I'll do vets," he promised his mother in case she felt left out. "But everyone knows what vets do in Brindleton Bay, and the other kids think it's cool that Conrad fights crime."

Heather didn't feel left out. She was grateful her son loved and respected Conrad almost as much as she did. Conrad told Ash all the cool things about being a detective, leaving out the parts he knew weren't suited to a six-year-old's Career Day presentation.

Gord had started joining him at work again, which set his mind more at ease even as his search for Rafa remained fruitless. He trusted Gord's instincts, and if he was willing to leave the house, Ximena must not be close by. His partner, Zion Spangler, still hadn't found her, and George Brindleton was still in Sulani with his wife, so the case had all but ground to a halt with the coming holidays.

He didn't mind the slowdown, anxious as he was to solve the mystery of Rafa's disappearance. This was Lavender's first Winterfest; needless to say he had more important people on his mind.

"No hits from Rafa's old yearbooks from the few years he spent at San Myshuno High," reported one of his deputies. "No extracurriculars or indications who might've been someone he'd call a friend."

Conrad frowned. A potentially deluded part of him still hoped he could figure out who had Rafa - and where - before the end of winter, but every lead he chased to a dead end left him frustrated and exhausted. He was more than ready to put this chapter of his life behind him.

At the clinic, Heather ran into the always glamorous Bella Goth when she brought in her cat, Spatula, for an exam.

"How've you been, Mrs. Goth?"

"Just wonderful! Grimmie and I went on a date the other night and it was lovely!"

Heather smiled. "I'm happy for you! And how's your pet crow, Obsidian?"

Bella smiled, dancing a little to the music coming from the clinic speakers. She reminded Heather so much of her daughter, Cassandra. "Very healthy. I know you specialize in dogs and cats, but should Obsidian ever need a good vet, will I be able to bring her to Buttercup Pet Clinic?"

"Of course, Mrs. Goth! We're not a pawspital anymore - any pets in need are always welcome!"

Mrs. Goth smiled, leaving a generous tip in the spirit of Winterfest when Heather finished with her cat. Heather closed up shop after dark, returning home under heavy snowfall and bright streetlights.

When she walked in the door, she was greeted by Gord and the cats, but she was drawn to the sound of voices upstairs, where Conrad and Ash had started decorating the tree without her. "I tried to bribe him to wait but he said he wanted to surprise you."

"I thought you might be tired, mommy."

She smiled warmly. "I don't mind that you started without me, but try not to finish yet. Just give me one second - I have a surprise!"

She raced down the stairs and pulled out four gift-wrapped boxes from beneath a pile of blankets in her wardrobe, each one labelled with their names. Conrad. Heather. Ash. Lavender. Their family.

Returning upstairs, the only place they could fit their tree, Ash squealed with excitement when he saw the presents. "Can we open them now?"

"Of course! You're going to want to wear them, I'm sure."

Conrad glanced at her with a smirk. "You ordered them, didn't you."

Heather's straight face bloomed into a smile. "Happy Winterfest Eve!"

She laughed as they opened their matching holiday pajamas. The burgundy knit sets by @vixonspixels were perfect for cold, snowy winter nights in Brindleton Bay, and they posed for a few photos they could send to family.

"Do you think we should have gotten the kids' haircuts before the holidays?" Heather moaned, playfully ruffling Ash's wispy mane.

"For some family photos?" Conrad scoffed. "The hair isn't going to be what makes them turn out great. It's the pajamas, obviously."

(I love them and they have 3 different swatches - I used them all just to show them off and I thought it'd be cute since they still look like a match. And they have infant sizes which was harder to find and what really sold me!)

Gord still needed a walk after they'd finished decorating the tree, so Heather left Conrad in charge of the kids while she took the dog for a brisk walk down to the frozen creek.

Conrad cuddled Lavender while Ash finished his letter to Father Clement downstairs. His blue-eyed baby girl was just as perfect as her mother and looked up at him with devotion; it seemed strange to think he'd ever been afraid to be a father.

He put her to bed, reciting the story of The Giving Tree, just as he had for her elder brother when he was her age. As she drifted to sleep, he kissed her forehead and pulled a small box from his pocket.

Ash raced up the stairs excitedly - he'd clearly stolen one or two of the cookies meant for Father Clement - but it wasn't just a sugar high that had him jumping off the walls tonight. "Mommy and Gord are coming back! I saw through the window. Do you have it?"

Conrad grinned, crouching down to show him what he'd pulled from his pocket. "Do you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll love it, not like it!" Ash dropped his voice to a whisper as they heard Heather's key turn in the door downstairs. "She'll be so surprised!"

Ash's Career Day presentation wasn't the only project these two had been working on. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: River was in on it, too! He gave Conrad the number for a jeweler in the episode when he drove out to Brindleton Bay to check Conrad's stress level.

WCIF Portrait Poses? 1st is Infant Insanity by @rebouks. Looks stunning and perfect as you can see. This particular pose has room for two todds in front of Heather but we don't have any, and the pose doesn't even look like anything is missing. I love it!

2nd pose is two-in-one and still needs one more kid to look perfect. I clipped Lavender over Conrad's feet so this one's on me, not the poses, but it's also not the official portrait that ended up in a frame on the wall because Lavender isn't crawling yet, either. It's from the Ultimate Family Portrait Posepack by @simmireen, which is an amazing set!

[lightsovermonaco]

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed. 

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world. 

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away. 

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days. 

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number.  You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package. 

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home. 

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.” 

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze. 

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them. 

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you. 

"My eyes are up here hermosa." 

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…” 

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met. 

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you. 

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect. 

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred. 

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips. 

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled. 

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-” 

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change. 

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert. 

[warping-realities]

Rebranding (Repost)

"How can you be so reckless, Vincent? Be grateful I pulled your ass out of the fire and threw a coat over your sorry self, you idiot. But the fallout... Don’t you get that this could totally wreck your whole career?"

"I know, but that bitch..."

"Don’t you dare use that word again; it's already bad enough to have it on tape flying around all the gossip shows!"

"Sorry, that... woman..."

"Valery, your girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend, or do you really think I’d stick around after she cheated on me?"

"Understandable you broke up, but threatening her and calling her all those names in front of a bunch of paparazzi? Half-naked, no less! What were you thinking?"

"That’s what I’m asking; what was I thinking when I decided to date a brainless bimbo with fake blonde hair?"

"Be super careful with what you say; after all, that’s not the image you wanna project, Vincent."

"Ah, I’m sorry." He replied, eyeing his agent's long blonde hair.

"Apology accepted, asshole. But we’ve got bigger fish to fry. So, tell me, what am I supposed to do with you?"

"I didn’t get your question."

"But I was so clear that even a bimbo would get it."

"Look, I already apologized for how I acted..."

"It turns out that in our circle, just saying sorry isn’t enough. We’ve got an image to protect and sell. Like you said, the vibe Valery gives off fits perfectly with betrayals and gossip sites. But you? Not so much, at least not until this week’s fiasco. Honestly, I never understood what she saw in you. Sure, you’re a well-known gamer influencer, but you’re just a nerd. She’s on another level, with more followers than you, and I bet she’ll be a fashion icon in no time."

"If you called me here just to roast me, I’m out." He said, getting up.

"Sit your ass down and shut it." Inexplicably, he found himself compelled to do just that.

"Hmmm, hmmm."

"Much better, right? I should've figured out your type way earlier, the nice guy who makes funny videos, the friend to everyone, protesting for minorities... but who, deep down, is just another sexist and misogynist like so many others. You’re way worse than a dumb jock, you know why, Vincent? Because they don’t hide who they are; women can smell the toxic masculinity from a mile away. But you, our so-called allies... what a joke... allies like you? I don’t need that. You come at us with your soft words and sensitive hearts, and women like us fall for it. We only catch on to all the microaggressions, the hits to our self-esteem when it’s gone too far, when that happens." She said, pointing to the eye prosthesis.

"I had a heart-to-heart with Valery this morning. Turns out, on top of all that, you’re a lousy performer in bed. That’s why she’s been sneaking around with her gym buddies. Poor girl, always picking the wrong guy, but at least the last dude had an enviable body and an even more enviable... tool, maybe the reason for your little meltdown. In your defense, she swore to me you never laid a finger on her. So, my dear, I’ve decided I’m not gonna bail on you, and Valery’s agreed not to press charges. But for everyone to be happy after the mess you made, you both gotta agree to clean up your images. And for that, you’re gonna participate in a reality show! Fun, right?" She finished with a smirk. Vincent's shocked look showed he wasn’t finding this fun at all.

"Now, Valery is perfect for the reality show in question, and as for you... we’ve got a few months until the next season drops, which I really appreciate, 'cause we need to let the dust settle to work on your image and do a total rebranding. Get up and strip down to your underwear; I don’t need to hurt my only eye with the sight of your tiny dick."

Vincent again found himself compelled to comply and robotically followed his manager's orders.

"It really isn’t good material! But let’s change that; how about a few years less studying foreign languages and more time getting swole at the gym, Vincent?"

Suddenly, all knowledge of Spanish and French evaporated from his mind. Followed by a weird feeling in his body, starting in his feet, which ballooned from size 8 to size 11. Then his calves, a joke among his friends, widened and showed more definition, as well as his thighs, which grew to the point of making him move one leg away from the other, with a little help from his dick, which went from size 3 to 7. Then his abs started to show the shadow of a six-pack, with defined pecs to match, and finally, his skinny arms gained the size and definition of someone who actually lifts weights at the gym. As soon as it started, the feeling passed.

"Much better, flex those muscles for me, Vincent." And so he did, screaming in horror in his own head, but utterly speechless on the outside.

"I think we still have room for improvement," said Monica distractedly. And Vincent, summoning all his willpower, finally got a moment of clarity, rushing to the table and trying to grab anything he could use against her. Not succeeding he just used all his remaining willpower to raise a fist in defiance.

"Stop right there! A fist? Seriously, Vincent? I figured with all your big-brain intellect you’d come up with something better." She mocked the frozen man.

"Apparently, that intellect isn’t all that great. So how about we trade twenty IQ points for another twenty pounds of lean muscle, a few extra inches on your height, on that useless dick of yours, and on those big feet; for some reason, some women go crazy for that!"

Vincent was hit by that odd feeling in his body again, this time accompanied by a sensation of being sucked into his own mind, which prevented him from even thinking. His feet reached a gigantic size 14, giving off a pungent odor, his calves grew until they took on the shape of diamonds, and his thighs expanded to the size of tree trunks; his penis - little Vinnie, a name that popped into his head - reached an impressive 9 inches in length, along with the circumference of a beer can. That hint of a six-pack evolved into a defined eight-pack, and his pecs turned into two slabs of meat, completing the sculpt he developed with broad shoulders and huge, vascularized arms.

"Almost there! The body’s perfect, and intellect down to just the right level. But something’s missing. How about we swap your obsession with game culture for an obsession with yourself? A few tattoos, and what were you saying about fake blonde tan and bleached blond hair? Let’s make sure the outside represents the inside well, my dear, and the main thing is that every woman who lays eyes on you knows what kind of man she’s dealing with.

…

The two girls sitting on the sand tried to focus from a distance on who the man was approaching at the edge of the sea.

"Is he mine or yours, Val?"

"I think he’s yours, Brit; from this distance, I can’t be sure, but he doesn’t look like any of mine... except... no way!"

"What, Val?" asked the other anxiously.

"Wait and see, Britt! But I can guarantee you this is gonna blow some minds!" answered Valery, seeing the young man approaching.

"Hello, ladies!" said the man, exuding cockiness.

"Vincent Parker?" Britt asked in disbelief as Valery just smiled.

"No formalities, girls. You can call me Vinnie!"

[alienpossession]

Bodies a Day 25: Choice

After my conditioning inside the model human for the past 24 hours, I'm now ordered to lay in the platform so they can extract me out from the model and then directed to my preferred bodies down on Earth. I guess this is the benefit for latecomer of a successful transplant project. We have influx of empties in our stock, and it leads to so many available option for me to choose from to ensure our project run smoothly and the continuation of the community ensured. Guess the First Settler did a bit too much with the extraction, they turned the whole college town population into empties to be used by the next batches without necessarily calculating that in order to fill 40,000 humans, we need at least 100 batch to land on Earth and started the infiltration, and I'm still the 34th Batch. But well, it's not like the First Settler known to be nothing but brute force after all, whenever they landed and no matter how much work they needed to do, they always ensured to finish the job. I heard that they settled into the lumberjack and some outcast of the town that lived nearby the woods as part of their ongoing mission of watching over newcomer and tracked whether the human government, especially the United States where we landed, aware of our presence.

Me....well, as I said, I have lots of choices available. The Committee directed me to become human male, and I spotted some desirable figures like these human male....or men that studied human's business and economic system in college. They're also known to be very active in social organization and sporting activities, which piqued my interest because it's such an interesting balance between community involvement but also full-time studying

There's also this group of younger but like-minded bunch of men to the earlier group, the description stated that most of them are pledges. They are also studying full-time per the description and still going to study for the next 3-5 years depending on the field they want to get into. Maybe I do want to learn longer? Hmm.....can't tell just yet

The other group of men are older and there's not much studying in their description. But one group is quite interesting because it stated that they are involved in an open relationship with the four of them as the core component. What does that mean? I did hear about human's sexual fluidity, but during my learning, it's stated that it's not really that common still despite recent documented spike in the past few years, especially in our landed geographical area.

The other group, well, aside from the explained "larger than average" built, I somehow found them to be rather plain. Yes they are strong and based on my notes, seemed like a desired version of men, but some others viewed them as obsessive or intimidating. I guess those kind of bodies deserved to be filled by some of the stronger member of my batch, they probably can put the body into better use or something

So, do you have any suggestion which group I should choose? It's your choice as much as mine, I really can't decide

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 02 | AS LUCKY AS US

PAIRING: lee felix x reader

GENRE: fluff, just pure fluff

WC: 0.80k

CW: none

PROMPT: matching bracelets

did i just describe making a bracelet in 800 words? yes, yes i did. honestly no real plot here, just a cute scene. hope you enjoy <3

title from where the lines overlap - paramore

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

"Can you pass me the box with the white beads?" Felix asked as soon as he heard you walk into the room. He didn’t even bother to raise his head; he was too immersed in the project he was working on. The Australian was currently sitting in the middle of your living room, leaning back into the sofa for some support. You tried to convince him to sit somewhere more comfortable (anywhere besides the floor, really), but it was to no avail. Felix claimed things were more organized and easier for him to reach if he sat on the ground. And by things, he meant the mess of boxes and beads he managed to create in your living room during the hour and a half he was there.

In hindsight, you should have probably expected this, knowing Felix for years now. But then again, who would expect a worldwide-famous kpop idol to become so intrigued by the plastic beads you once bought for when your little niece was over? So there you were, watching Felix make what was his fifth bracelet and trying to figure out the colour scheme so it wouldn't collide with his comeback stage outfits. He had decided to make matching couple bracelets to wear at all times. The only problem was his current comeback period, which meant he had to be careful with choosing his jewelry if he wanted to convince the stylists to let him keep it for the stage. Fortunately for Felix, he managed to bribe one of the stylists to tell him the planned colour schemes for the next few stages.

As you picked up the box he wanted and passed it to him, you couldn’t help but smile. There was something so endearing about the way his eyes sparkled with excitement upon being handed the white beads. It was something so simple, but seeing Felix happy was all the reason needed for you to be happy as well.

“Move over.” You gently nudged his shoulder, and Felix detached himself from the sofa to make room for you. The second you made yourself comfortable, he was leaning back again, this time into your chest. Your arms automatically circled his waist and pulled him even closer, keeping a firm but gentle grip on him. Your chin found its resting place on Felix’s shoulder, and for a while, you just watched him work in silence.

When Felix had almost finished the bracelet, he held it up to look at the colours. “No… This isn't working. Something is wrong…” he mumbled to himself as he inspected the arrangement of beads. Even though you couldn't see his face from your position, you knew he had his “thinking face” on - lips pursed together and eyes focused only on the problem at hand. 

“Maybe try the dark blue instead of the light?” you suggested. The light blue was softer and more blended in with the white, thus making it harder to spot on stage. However, pairing a light and a dark colour has always worked out well, and personally, you liked the contrast that such combinations created.

Felix hummed, thinking about your idea. He began taking apart the bracelet until there was a single white bead left on the string. Then he made you hand him another box so he could start putting together a new bracelet. You noticed the pattern he was creating was different; he used more white beads than on the last design. You guessed it was because the bracelet needed to be as unnoticable as possible in order to not get taken away by stylists. 

For a while, you stayed in silence, accompanied only by Felix's quiet rendition of some Sam Smith song. You laid your head on his shoulder, simply enjoying being close to him like this. Not that you didn't get enough physical contact; in fact, both you and your boyfriend were more than willing to hug everything that breathed. It was usually Felix cuddling you, though, not the other way around. It felt nice to hold him in your arms for a change. It was like a reminder that this personification of sunshine and happiness was yours, and that made you feel all warm and content.

When Felix finished his bracelet, he excitedly showed you. “You were right, it looks much better." He smiled and turned his head to give you a quick thank-you kiss. He immediately began working on the second bracelet, slightly changing the pattern so it fits better with your style, but only so much to be clear that the bracelets are matching. 

A few days later, you scrolled through your social media, seeing hundreds of STAYs making theories about Felix’s new accessory. With a certain sense of pride, your eyes fell to your wrist, where was a bracelet designed to match Felix’s.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[jugglingjujube]

WIP parade!!!

I might do this every Sunday because it's good to remember what's on the needles. No promises though because I am trying to do less arbitrary deadlines. So! In order of my knitting priority:

Grey Kirigami

She's back!!! I need to reknit the yoke so I've been doing that the past few days. This will be my first FO in 2025 because I want to wear her so bad.

Double Knit Gradient Scarf

I just found this while I was cleaning out a closet. It's probably like 6 years old? So I figure it should be finished

Homegrown Sweater

I'm calling this my Homegrown Sweater because that's what the yarn colourway is called but the pattern is the Tolsta Tee by the Creabea. I also frogged this yarn from another sweater so it's not new new either.

Westknits MKAL 2024: Go Go Dynamo

Yes this is still on the needles and yes I am still on clue 3. It's a really fun knit, but it takes a long time and i need to pay attention.

Fifth House Folklore Cardigan

I forgot about this several times since finishing the back. It's hard to work on because it's cables i need to see on darker yarn (it's brown but it looks red in every picture). I'll probably cast on the fronts soon

Sweater for my Dad

Last December in a fit of hubris I thought I could make a sweater for my dad for Christmas. And then I just didn't do that. So this will maybe be picked up again next fall.

THINGS I NEED TO DO

I don't need more cast ons, but I need some fun colours (aside from my temperature blanket which is another post). I have the yarn for a deep green Lento which will be fast so I'm casting that on next. Also I forgot to share my project from my advent calendar in here so that'll be a separate post. It doesn't look like much right now anyway

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Asylum Challenge: Day 12

(Nothing to see here - just Vlad very excitedly browsing through Trendi by the looks of his current get-up)

This was the first of three days where Wicked Whims... kind of got out of hand until everyone figured out what they were into, I guess 🤔. Also I realised that I'd set the lot to the FLIRTY trait for one day and forgot about it which was... a chaotic combination to put it mildly.

So while nothing explicit will be shown, just something to keep in mind, I guess?

Look at her, look at her, she's no good at yoga. I had considered a Spa Day pack aspiration, since Lilac will likely need the inner peace going forward, but then I saw how grindy they all were.

So... Lady of the Knits!

Level One: Humble Knitter

❌ Knit for 5 Hours (2/5) ❌ Start 3 Knitting Projects While Inspired (0/3) ✅ Knit on a Rocking Chair

No, she isn't Whims related below the waist - it's just flesh toned underwear. (I had to take a second look too.)

Another early riser (easy for someone who doesn't need to go to bed) was Vlad. Along with Rory. The two... well, one occult heavyweight, and one tissueweight, actually managed to have a civil moment, perhaps with music loving Rory appreciating Vlad's skill on the piano.

Oh wait, L. is up. There goes the ceasefire, if not the entire neighbourhood.

Meanwhile the Roswells had a moment over breakfast. Could a GOOD traited Sim and her EVIL husband ever make their marriage work? Now that they're played Sims, apparently not.

While Lilac took a THOUGHTFUL SHOWER to get those creative juices flowing (takes on a whole new meaning with this mod 😬), Jacques woke up in a sad mood thanks to those voices in his head.

Clearly whatever leftover gourmet dish that Raj made the night before was the only cure.

Meanwhile Ted apparently tried to enlist Vlad in order to sway Meredith over to their EVIL ways, but as Vlad was seemingly more interested in having Ted's opinion on his potential Trendi buys, it wasn't working. Thanks to their POSSESSED late night strolls and chats, Ted is the one person in the household other than Lilac who has a positive relationship with Vlad.

As unlike L., for the most part Vlad is actually trying to be cordial to most of the household, the Watcher does lowkey feel sorry for him about this.

THOUGHTFUL SHOWER did the trick, and Lilac was able to start her three inspired knitting projects! Since that glitch where you can't resume projects is still hanging around, she wasn't able to finish them, but we'll take any loophole that we can get.

Rory started a new freelance career as a programmer (great way to work on her handiness too being a werewolf I guess 👍) while Meredith apparently didn't get the memo that On Wednesdays, We Do Crafting Hour.

Lilac kindly pointed out that mixology with the globe bar just over there would count as a creative skill. Perhaps as a result of her less than stellar relationship with Ted, Meredith appears to have decided that yes, actually a drink sounds real good right about now.

Ted literally could have gone and done anything else in the house, but instead he goes and plays Road Warrior or whatever near where Rory is trying to work, and freaks out because he's next to a transformed woof-woof. I don't think that Rory's the problem here...

Raj seemingly did not appreciate the Watcher telling him to make himself useful and to take out the trash.

It must have frozen over in Tartosa and the gameplay hell that is the My Wedding Stories pack, because L. was actually nice to Lilac! Oh right, the Watcher got her to 'scope the surroundings,' and Lilac is apparently 'very attractive' to her too.

The Watcher set the one person in the household who doesn't need to eat on the task of cooking dinner, mainly so that he's close by so that I can cancel his autonomously eating it when he has the vampire weakness where food makes him sick. Because he has a knowledge related aspiration, he's actually at a decent culinary level.

Looks like L.'s niceness allotment for the year is about to expire.

Ted and Jacques were impressed with Raj's alleged unaliving of a workplace rival, offered to recruit him to the round table of villainy. He said that he's good, thank you.

Yup, L.'s niceness streak aged like warm milk. And a reminder that she thinks Lilac is hot too!

While Vlad wisely stayed out of things by doing the dishes (he acquired the NEAT trait at some point, which is very useful to have in the household's vampire), Rory must have taken issue with L.'s meanness, because next minute they went outside, Rory was walking in with a spring in her step and L. was bruised and battered.

Just how long is it going to take these apparent occult geniuses to learn not to forbidden word with Rory?

Lilac must have been especially appreciative of her shieldmaiden in furry armour, because well. This was the one animation it was safe to show you. In fairness, it's a pretty cute one.

In less exciting news, Lilac is now on the second stage of the Knitting aspiration.

Level Two: Thread Setter

❌ Achieve Level 4 of the Knitting Skill (3/4) ❌ Knit While Listening to Music ❌ Sell a Knitted Object on Plopsy

My head is feeling full and gluggy so I may post the next couple of days in a few hours.

[imagineanime2022]

Your Beautiful

Ayame Sohma X Reader

Word Count: 1744

Requested: @twilightlover2007

Request: I'd love to see Ayame with a plus size bookwormish girlfriend who is a little (or a lot) self conscious about what she wears and Aya will have NONE of that. Perhaps he designs a dress just for her to surprise her and make her see herself as he does. Please and thank you!!

Ayame had known you since you were in school, you never really crossed paths though, considering his more popular status and your more quiet disconnection from the popular scene. Ayame had always wanted to talk to you but never found the right time, everytime he shared a room with you people flocked to him and all he could do was watch you from afar. When you did talk to someone your eyes cast down to the floor and voice softer than silk. He watched you from afar as it seemed to blossom in your own environment, only catching his eye every now and again, eyes flitting back to the floor or book you were holding when you realised that he was looking right back at you.

Ayame remembered the first time that he was alone with you, you had both been paired for a project, you knowledge on the subject was immense and while you claimed that it only came from the books that you read, the fact that you had finished a book impressed him all the same, especially since at that age you wouldn’t find him sitting still for anyone. This was also the first time that he got an inkling for the way that you felt about yourself, he had at first assumed that you just didn’t like the uniform which was why you seemed so uncomfortable in it, and in most ways he was right. When you weren’t dressed in your uniform there was not that was shown off to the world, you covered your body in baggy clothes he assumed to hide it, though he never asked. Now he thought that those clothes were cute, he loved coming over to work on the project to see you curled up in the large oversized jumper, legging clad legs tucked under you and out of sight but he did look forward to the school days as well, those were the days that he could really appreciate the figure that you hide so often,

After leaving school he lost contact with you for a long while, that is until he opened his shop, he was looking for a supplier of fabrics and stumbled across your small business, he recognised you immediately if not for your appearance but the book tucked under your arm and the way that your eyes flitted to the floor the same as when you were both kids. “Still have trouble looking people in the eye it seems.” He joked, your eyes widened as you looked up at him. “You remember me?” You asked. “Of course, we’ve not been out of school that long, and he had almost every class together.” He reminded you. “Well no but, I’m no one important-” “Nonsense dear, you are just as important as the next person, not to mention you’ll be the one providing the materials I need for my shop… Can I count on you for that?” He asked. “O-of course.” You nodded. “Perfect.” He smiled softly “now could I trouble you to run me through what you have available at the moment?” “It’s no trouble.” You informed him as you ushered him through the shops going through everything that you had, what was easier to get and what was a little harder to acquire given your location, Ayame need anything further he pitched a partnership to get both your businesses off the ground, you accepted much to his excitement and that was where you found yourself now.

You made your way into his shop sample tiles stowed away in a small bag, he had informed you that he was working on a new project and all he needed was for you to bring over your favourite materials, you walked in at the same time as some other customers, one of them barging passed you to get to the counter, you stumbled slightly clutching the sample squares to your chest as you tried to balance yourself “Move.” She ordered. “S-sorry.” You mumbled stepping out of her way, falling back into an old habit of looking at the floor. “Why would you be here, it’s not like you could wear anything that Ayame makes.” The girl sneered as her eyes snagged on the sample squares assuming you were a customer. “S-sorry I’ll just-” “Now what is it that you are apologising for my sweet dove?” You jumped at the sound of Ayame as he stood behind you, when you didn’t say anything you felt him lean down “I’m talking to you dear.” You gave a small embarrassed squeak at the proximity before stuttering out an answer. “I-I, they are your customers you should see to them.” You finally managed to say, he looked at the girls and waved her away. “She’s no customer of mine.” Ayame answered. “You can’t-” “I won’t have you supplying materials for someone who treats you this way and I won’t be sourcing my materials anywhere else.” He explained. “Ayame you can’t-” “I can.” He answered firmly, the group looked at him in shock before being escorted out of the shop. “Ayame, they were paying customers, you can’t do that!” You scolded him, he just smiled down at you. “I own this shop, I can do what I want. I have enough paying customers to turn away those who don’t deserve my service.” He waved you off, dragging you towards the back room gesturing for you to sit on the sofa. “So show me what you’ve brought.” “I brought a couple of options, you know since you didn’t really give me any direction, who is the client this time anyway?” You asked. “That doesn’t matter, she has very similar taste to you, I think that she will love whatever you choose, so of these three which do you like the most?” He asked. You looked at the three samples that you had picked out, one subtle in design and colour, another a little more chaotic but still softly coloured and the last calmer in design but the colours were a little more flashy, you pointed to your favourite one and he nodded as he held it up. “I like this, this will work.” “Are you going to show me what you are working on?” You asked, he smiled and shook his head. “You will see it when it’s finished.” He promised “Now that the business is out of the way, how are you?” He changed the subject, stirring away from work and into more casual conversation.

It was a couple months later Ayame rushed into your shop, you had been restocking the shelves after an eventful first half to the day, you turned expecting a customer and some ways you weren’t wrong but when you looked at him you knew that there was something wrong. “Ayame are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked, he reached behind him turning the sign on your door to ‘closed’ before pulling you into the back room, it was then that you realised that he was holding something. “Ayame?” “(Y/N).” He said as he turned to look at you, you frowned when you noticed the tears gathering in his eyes. “Your acting weird what’s-” You were cut off by him pulling you into a tight hug, it almost felt like he had been waiting years to do this but that couldn’t have been true, there was nothing stopping him from doing it years ago if that was what he wanted. “Ayame?” “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He admitted and that caused you to truly frown. “I don’t understand.” You decided that admitting it would be easier than trying to figure it out on your own. “I know, I’m sorry but just know that I’ve wanted to do this for years.” He said into your shoulder before finally letting you go, “I have something to give you.” “Give me?” You asked. “Mmm.” He hummed holding up the bag that he had walked in with, you took it from him and looked inside, you recognised the material as the sample that you had picked out months ago. “I thought this was for a client. Why are you giving it to me… Did they not like it?” You asked. “Take it out.” He prompted, you lifted the absolutely stunning clothing set out of the bag. The top was form fitting and the bottom to go with it would sit snugly on your hips and shoe off the shaping of your legs perfectly. “Do you like it?” “It's a beautiful set.” You answered. “Then they liked it, will you try it on for me?” He asked. “T-try it on?” You asked. “I know that you are going to look ravishing.” He said holding the set in front of your body as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Even if you only ever wear it for me, know that you are safe to wear whatever you want and try whatever you want, I just want to see you.” “It won’t be as exciting as you think, I’m not like the other girls.” You answered and he shook his head. “I don’t want you to be like the others, I want you to be comfortable, I want to show you that are beautiful and you always have been whether you dressed down for a days work-” he pulled the outfit away from you to show you the outfit you were wearing “-or dressed up.” He offered you the outfit again and you took his from his hand walking to the bathroom to get changed. You cleared your throat when you walked out causing him to look over at you, the smile that split his face was genuine as he held up his phone snapping a picture before turning it to show you. “That’s me?” It sounded like a question even to you. “That’s you and you are beautiful.” He said softly, hugging you again “please give me the chance to prove it to you.” “You are doing a great job so far.” You smiled. “I’m far from done my dear.” He promised pressing a kiss to your cheek, he knew that he wasn’t going to change you overnight, you could tell by the way that he looked at you, he was proud of you for even putting the new outfit on and it was then that you decided that you would be happy seeing that look for the rest of you life, if he’d allow it.

Request Here!!

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 7

Eventual Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, nicotine and weed consumption, mentions of trauma/death, nightmares & anxiety. Yup!! She is back y'all!! Let's just say I got very bored of writing for bingo, things are not very Christmasey around here so I decided to try and finish this entire thing by New Year's. Now, i doubt that'll happen, but i'm still aiming for a chapter per day meaning 4-5 more chapters by NYE which honestly is just under what I have planned for this series. I wanted this one to be better, I can't lie, but in the new year we will move on to a new series and it will be wonderful! Happy Holidays!!

Emily kept her braids in until the next time her hair needed to be washed, if you had said anything she would say it was purely out of convenience and nothing else. But she knew that she actually liked it, she felt as if a new style was something that would help her move on to a new phase of life, not to mention you were a wizard when it came to braiding her slowly growing bangs into the braids and keeping them off her face. A new, different look was her way of leaning into Valerie, making herself more comfortable with the idea of everything and sticking around Paris while she waited for it to all come to an end.

She finally had enough energy to get out of the apartment, making it down the block to the corner store to pick up a few things. You’d been working later and longer hours, mentioning something about picking up a new research project in passing one day (that or you were hiding at the hospital, she wasn’t entirely sure). Thanks to that, things around the apartment had started to get a little on the lacking side when it came to chores. Emily didn’t mind, she spent most of the time in her room anyway and she could always get food delivered. But she did feel a bit bad if she wasn’t contributing at all, especially considering the last time she washed her hair you wordlessly braided it without her even having to ask.

So she’d began using her daily out of the house walks to not only get some more energy and strength back, but to pick up a few things for the apartment. Some days it was food, others coffee and she’d taken up the habit of replacing the flowers in the living room whenever they started to wilt. It was another small change in her routine that was helping her feel more human once again and she was finally starting to get comfortable being outside and not being completely on edge the entire time. She used the time to start upping her profiling skills again, the city streets of Paris the perfect place to grab a cup of coffee and people watch. She didn’t really care if she was correct with her hypothesises, it got her brain working again and she felt bad whenever she caught herself profiling you at home.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t tell that you were getting more tired with each day that went by, mentally drained by living the life you hadn’t chosen. She knew that one all too well at this point. So she did her best to keep the apartment in order without overworking herself and keeping out of your way, which in the long run was benefitting her too.

Currently Emily was out on the balcony, her usual home for the time in the evenings when you overlapped and her second favourite place to people watch from. The sun had already began its decent, the sky painted with colours of teal and purple when she heard the door open and shut inside the apartment. Her eyes flicked to the cigarette in her hand, wondering if she should stub it out before you saw it but figured she was already ratted out by the scent wafting through the air, not to mention the half pack of butts in the ash tray. She took another drag of it, watching a family of three on the street below her, the girl in between her parents, a hand holding each of them as she skipped her way down the sidewalk and her lips curved up into a brief grin. The thought of setting out on a nice family adventure on a Friday night, her imagination took hold, ideas flowing through her brain about the multitude of places they could be headed.

She was broken out of the daydream by the sound of you quite literally kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag into your room. The tell tale sign of what she first thought was the fridge opening, the sound of ice cubes being dumped into a glass proving her wrong, that you’d gone for the freezer instead, the glug of the high end bourbon you’d stashed in the pantry flowing into her ears next. She thought the next sound would be the closing of your bedroom door as you disappeared for the night and nearly jumped when you stepped out onto the balcony beside her, swiping the back of cigarettes from the small table. It happened so fast she couldn’t even let out a noise of objection before you spoke, snagging the lit cigarette from practically between her lips.

“Give me that.” You muttered.

“I- hey!” She groaned, her brow furrowing when she looked up at you to find you using her smoke to light your own, the pack already back on the table.

Before she could fully process what was going on her cigarette was back between her fingers and you were dropping into the empty chair, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you sunk even deeper into it. She let silence overtake the balcony so you could use the time to decompress, shift from your doctor self into your home self and no doubt relax a little bit. She finished her smoke, stubbing it out in the ash tray not long after you’d lit yours. She debated going back inside but felt like her skin was still itching, desperate for more nicotine so without even glancing in your direction she picked up the pack, pulling the lighter from her pocket to light a second one while she prepared for the nagging she was about to receive. Instead you simply took another drag, shoulders sagging as smoke slipped from your lips into the cooling night air.

“Nothing, really?” She couldn’t help herself, nearly laughing as she pocketed the lighter, “I thought you of all people would be coming out here to lecture me about the dangers of smoking.”

You let out a scoff of a laugh, “it’s fucking France, everyone smokes.” Your eyes flicked down to the ash tray and your lips curved into a frown, “I won’t lecture you but you might wanna slow down on how many you have per day.”

“Not exactly like I have much else to do.”

“Yeah well, find a hobby or something.” You took another drag, “there’s a bakery two streets over with the best stuff in the city. You could make your walks longer.”

“Hmm.” Emily replied, the acknowledgement that she had been leaving the house and helping out was all either of you needed to discuss on the matter. You weren’t in the mood to be the rule maker right now, that was very clear.

Silence took over the balcony once more and as much as she didn’t mean to, Emily’s eyes flickered over to you, examining your body language, her profiler gears turning. You looked even more mentally tired than you had the last time she’d seen you, not that there were bags under your eyes, but the look of utmost defeat within them. You sunk down so deep into the chair, pulling your legs up into it, curling around yourself as if to protect yourself from the outside world. Your gaze lingered on the skyline, not daring to dart down to the street where people occasionally milled below and every drag of the cigarette between your fingers was long, deep, like someone who desperately needed a more intense vice they hadn’t indulged in in years.

“Rough day?” She finally asked, her voice soft, quiet enough you could ignore it if you wanted to.

“Yeah.” You replied, flicking the ash off your smoke while you glanced down, sighing heavily. “Lost a patient.” Emily watched as your staring contest with the sky ended and your eyes flitted through the street beneath you, “little girl, couldn’t have been more than eight. Came in ‘cause she fell off her bike, complaining of arm pain, admitting doctor said she was wearing a helmet and the initial exam was clear. She was alert, talkative, just the cutest fucking thing, reminded me a lot of my sister at that age. We figured it was a broken arm and were waiting for the x-ray line up to clear up to confirm.” You took a heavy breath, a long drag of your smoke and Emily knew the twist was coming, “turned out the Dad was lying to Mom about the helmet, he didn’t want to get in trouble for not enforcing the rules, thought it didn’t matter that the poor girl bonked her head. We didn’t catch the brain bleed in time…” You trailed off, your eyes glassy as they returned to the sky.

“I’m so sorry…” Emily whispered and you shook your head,

“A family doesn’t come back from that. Guilt’ll eat you alive, Mom’ll likely never forgive Dad, he’ll go insane trying to right a wrong he can’t fix.”

“Can only hope he takes it out on himself and not someone else.” She muttered, shaking her own head and she instantly felt your eyes on her.

“You see a lot of that in your line of work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She sighed, “something like today would be a stressor, it builds up higher and higher, fucks with your brain until you can’t take it anymore and it just sparks an explosion. He’s never gonna be able to look at another little girl on a bike again. He’ll see parents who let their kids ride without helmets as unfit, villains, could start lashing out towards them, likely verbally at first before a trigger hits. Could be divorce papers, could be the family ostracizing him, one month, six month, one year anniversary of her death, then he loses it…”

“Mmm.” In any other situation you would have been impressed by the way her brain worked, but right now all you were consumed by was grief, a weak laugh escaping through your lips as you should your head, “god we’re depressing.”

“At least you don’t have to sleep during the day.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“We can adjust your meds again.” You replied before you glanced down to your smoke, your head titling before you looked up at Emily, “though there is something else we haven’t tried…. I mean, we’re already smoking.”

It took a moment for the realization to wash over her, her eyes widening when she realized what you were talking about, “is that legal here?” She whipped her phone out, hastily typing before she nearly shot you a glare, “no! It is not.”

“Oh don’t be a fucking narc,” you rolled your eyes, your voice quieting to not be overheard, “you’re not a fucking fed right now, and it’s fine if it’s medical.”

“That’s gotta be some kind of illegal abuse of your medical licence.”

“Yeah well… I wasn’t the one who shot some guy’s ear off for a threat.” You deadpanned and Emily choked on her words, grimacing as she settled back in her chair instead of trying to stop you as you stood, “a couple of puffs now, we’ll eat a late dinner, finish the joint and go to bed. If it helps you sleep, I’ll get you a prescription.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, willing to try anything at this point to get her back to a normal schedule, knowing that one day she was going to have to work through the day and sleep through the night again. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

*

You’d been the first to tap out, the exhaustion of a full work day on top of the glass of bourbon and weed, once your stomach was full, you were down for the count, saying goodnight and quickly heading to your bedroom. Emily felt fine, a little cloudy but relaxed, comforted almost and she knew it was probably not the greatest idea but she sipped on a glass of wine after you went to bed, feeling the night sink into the city. She thought nothing of it as she went through her normal nighttime routine, even though it was hours earlier, her eyes were drooping, it was at least time for a nap. She locked the balcony door behind her, washed the couple of dishes in the sink, filled up a glass of water and made sure the alarm was set. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and took whatever meds she normally did before bed and curled up under the blankets, letting out a soft sigh as she did so, sleep taking over much quicker than normal.

The major conflict being that Emily’s body was used to the new sleep schedule she’d implemented, the one that started at dawn and went ‘til dusk. Meaning it had been roughly twelve hours, not twenty four since she’d last taken her meds and even with the added weed, she’d only been awake four hours by the time you got home, there was no way it was actually bedtime for her. She could practically feel herself tossing and turning, her mind racing as images began to plague her dreams.

Though this time it wasn’t just Ian, they were at the villa, there was a weird haze over the entire thing but she was playing with Declan, wide smile on her face as he laughed while she chased him around. At first she looked like Lauren; Declan was as small as she remembered until Ian showed up and a darkness enveloped the room. She could feel her heart pounding, a gasp escaping her lips as she frantically looked around for the boy who was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Unlike the last nightmare this time it was as if she was having an out of body experience, watching the entire thing like it was a movie. She watched the fear spread across her own face as her hair darkened, became straighter, bruises started to purple up on her skin as Ian laughed at her.

“You’ll never find him. You’ll never be able to protect him.” He jeered, “he’s my boy after all. You gave up that chance, didn’t you?”

Blood started to stain her shirt, forming a circle on her lower abdomen before she let out a groan, hands shooting to the wound, trying to hold it together as red streaks began to drip down her clothing. She couldn’t help but collapse to her knees, choking on her own breath as she tried to speak, desperate to find the boy before he did.

“Declan….” She cried out.

Instead of his perfect blue eyes popping up from behind the couch, Ian’s hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her face up to his.

“He is my son.” He spat, “and nothing, not even you, will keep me from him.”

“Please!”

“Em!” A voice rang out, a hand closed around her shoulder and she could see it, the bodyless limb in her nightmare as she continued to sob. She felt like she was going to throw up, “Emily!” It repeated, this time louder, “hey! Wake up!” Her vision began to spin, blurring as the scene in front of her slowly vanished and suddenly she was jolted into her Parisian bedroom, the nightstand light on, casting a glow though the room and she realized it was your voice that was soothing her. “Hey… I’m here.. it’s okay.” You assured her, watching the way she slowly blinked to life, her chest heaving as her eyes darted around the room and she instantly shot up, shuffling back on the bed as if she was about to be hit.

“I-“ she struggled to find the words, her eyes flicking from each spot of the room that was a little too dark for comfort to the window, making sure it was shut before she felt your hand on hers, your thumb soothing across the back of it.

“You’re okay.” You repeated, “he doesn’t know where you are. You’re safe, I promise.”

She took a moment, calming her heavy breaths, not even bothering to wipe the tears away as she fought against every instinct in her to run out of the room right then. Grounding herself by the warmth of your hand on hers, the weight of your body next to her on the bed, knowing that this was reality, not the scene in her head moments prior. Once you could tell she was back on earth your free hand reached out to the nightstand, flicking through her pill bottles until you found the anti anxiety, twisting it open to hand her one.

“Here.” She took it from you, popping it under her tongue and waiting for it to dissolve. “You’ll feel better in a bit, get some rest.” You began to shift from the bed, knowing how much she hated when you even attempted to coddle her and she let out an uncharacteristic whimper, her hand instantly tightening in yours.

“Wait!” You were halfway standing when you turned back to her, frowning at the tears blurring in her eyes, “stay… please? Just for now.”

“Okay.” You shot her a weak smile, shifting back onto the bed, your heart sinking at the way the tears were still leaking over her cheeks, the way her body would occasionally shake in fear. Whatever tonight’s nightmare had been about was clearly affecting her more than the last one. You adjusted the blankets, making sure they were wrapped around her, and covering you enough you wouldn’t get cold and you were taken aback at the way she nearly collapsed against you, holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into another nightmare. “Hey…” you squeezed at her softly, “talk to me… please.”

“Thought you weren’t a shrink.” She bit back and you let out a huff.

“I know the basics, and you need to talk. You need someone right now and I’m the one that’s here, so let me be what you need, even if you hate it.” You felt the vibration of her grumble against you, your free hand soothing up and down her back, “wanna maybe start with who Declan is?”

Emily tensed in your arms, unaware that you’d heard that much, wondering just how much she was willing to share tonight before she let out a shuddering breath, “Doyle’s son.”

“Just… his…?” You asked cautiously and she let out another wavery huff.

“Yes.” Her hand reached up to wipe away a stray tear, “my job was to seduce him, but I mean, I was careful. I even slept with him and I don’t do that.”

“Well even I know sleeping with an international terrorist isn’t likely a good idea.” You muttered back.

“I meant men.” She replied and you almost stiffened beside her.

“Oh…”

Silence filled the room once again as she continued to try to calm her thudding heart, the medicine you’d given her slowly coursing through her veins.

“My job was to keep Declan safe, even afterwards. That’s why I moved to D.C, not because of the BAU, but because it was close to him. I thought I was safe for so long after Doyle was arrested, that things were fine, that he’d never find us again but I was wrong. If he managed to break out of prison, find me and completely destroy me… again… what’s stopping him now?” She took a shuddering breath and your arms tightened around her.

“He thinks you’re dead.” You whispered softly, “even if he hacks into Boston hospital records, that’s what he’ll find.”

“I just want to feel safe.” She sniffled again and you held back the instinct to wipe the new tear away, not wanting to end this chapter of her feeling comfortable talking to you, feeling vulnerable with you. “I knew he wanted to kill me, that he wanted me dead and I had the upper hand and didn’t take it. I died.  I actually died in the ambulance and all I felt was… cold.. and darkness… that can’t be it.” Her hand clutched at your shirt again, “that can’t be the end…”

“It wasn’t.” You assured her softy, your hand slowly rubbing up and down her back, “and it won’t be. You deserve so much more than that, okay?”

“I just want to forget him.”

“I know.”

________________

@daddy-heather-dunbar @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Coldness -> Hunger Headcanon (and it includes reference to Rafal's infamous plate-smashing habit):

Disclaimer: There's only a little evidence for this being true, and I might be projecting, so I could be far off. It just made sense in my head and I've been thinking about it lately.

There could be other, more human reasons for Rafal’s coldness aside from magic, a formerly Evil soul, or He’s Just Like That.

This thought was inspired by the characterization of BBC’s Sherlock, and myself to a much lesser extent. (I tend to crank Rafal's traits up to extremes because he's an even worse all-or-nothing person than I am.)

Also, apparently, according to Google, I seemingly have zero “normal” hunger cues? I wasn't aware that being cold was “abnormal” until now. Does anyone relate to this or is it just me? I know it cannot reasonably be just me.

Moving on, the canon evidence is:

The "skinny snowman" line from Rise, if the implication of thermal (not figurative) coldness follows "snowman."

That one time when he sat watching torture for a few days without moving at all.

So, the headcanon is that Rafal forgets to eat. Or thinks he’s too absorbed in stuff going on to eat or that eating is beneath him. Any explanation will do. And, his hands (or body) become cold as a result, as the only physical signal of hunger, extremities first.

The second headcanon that incidentally came out of this is that Rafal would make a incredibly talented Gamemaker for the Hunger Games, haha—not good.

⸻

[In the silver tower:]

Rhian: Rafal! EAT something. That is an order.

Rafal: [petulantly] No! I haven’t finished these Trial plans! I can't decide if death trap #263 should go in the Cyan Caves or Pine Glen. The caves would trap them—so only one exit, which could be blocked for best results in eliminating the greatest number of competitors at once. But, the pines are disorientingly-spaced at extremely regular intervals this year—meaning, they'll get lost sooner without distinct landmarks or will feel unsettled and dizzy by the uncanny repetition of the maze since it'll be man-made...

Rhian: Well, actually, about that—

Rafal: [derisively] Don't need your input, Sir-'Only-Kill-In-Self-Defense.' I'm not reconsidering at this late stage. If this is about your famous health-aging-and-mortality lecture, that doesn’t work on me anymore. We’re immortal. It doesn’t matter and never will. Now, stop wasting time on right silly things.

Rhian: I know you think digestion of a large meal will slow you down, but at least eat something small or regular-sized. Please. Aren't you hungry? It's been three days.

Rafal: No. I don't feel a thing. I haven't felt a thing in... I've lost count. Stop bothering me and go away. I have to finish this first.

Rhian: Have you looked in the mirror lately?

Rafal: No. Why would I need to? I always look excellent, I'll have you know.

Rhian: [sighs] You’re cold. Have you noticed? For all your keen powers of observation, you're tremendously bad at paying attention to your physical self. I bet you're tired, too, and in denial about it.

Rafal: I'm not tired and I’m always cold. I shouldn't even have to dignify those sorts of questions with a response. Your point?

Rhian: [points at Rafal.] You're being a child. And you're irritable.

Rafal: Well, I wouldn't say I'm a proper delight either. Learn to moderate your expectations like the rest of them. Now, say something worth my time or leave.

Rhian: We don't have to go through this every time. Look. Your fingers and lips have turned blue.

Rafal: So?

Rhian: All right. I’m leaving this plate, with this food on it, next to you. You haven't forgotten what food is, have you? And I'm not talking about that inedible slop your students eat.

Rafal: [rolls his eyes] Don't need it. [Has stopped paying attention—] Utensils... too finicky... plate takes up surface area on desk. No room for paper. Then I won't be able to concentrate on this. Deadlines.

Rhian: It's a sandwich. You'd know if you bothered to look up for even one second. Problem solved. The plate can go on the floor. No wastes of space. Nothing encroaching on your papers. You can use one hand to eat it and the other hand to finish writing down your plans. And light a lamp. You'll strain your eyes. [He sets the plate on the desk.]

Rafal: Bah—whatever. The dark suits me. [He tries to sweep the plate off the table like usual—]

Rhian: [snatches it out of his reach and sets it down safely on the floor.] When I come back, I want it gone. Not via sorcery. Not via loophole exploitation. But eaten. You will eat it and not throw it out the window at the birds. You will not stuff it under the carpet or in the rubbish. It will go into your stomach and that's final.

Rafal: [not listening] Yes, yes. Sustenance. Yatter-yatter about this and that and tosh. Got it.

Rhian: Look, I know you don’t need to eat, but you ought to. I also expect the same of this glass of water, [he sets it on the desk] and if they’re still here when I return, I will sabotage your all-important project and tell my Evers your Trial strategy, so they win. I'll even tell the pots and pans to cook something with actual nutrients in it for your students, which you seem to have forgotten about. Did you know they've been cutting classes? They don't work like you, you know, and you can't deprive mortals.

Rafal: [scoffs] You wouldn’t. You’re too Good to do it. And I'll tell Humburg to handle my Nevers, thank you very much.

Rhian: Ever heard of the greater Good? You’re looking right at it. Now eat.

Rafal: [groans and picks up the sandwich.]

Rhian: [smugly] Good.

Rafal: [mutters something about: what's the point of endurance and asceticism if they're never put to use? What's the point of training if it's never practiced? What's the point of immortality if you can't make use of your superiority over mortals with their trivial bodily needs—he peeks at what's between the bread.] Ah. Cucumber. You're forgiven.

Rhian: The things I have to live with— [He leaves and slams the door.]

[bestworstcase]

I am really surprised that it seems no major time fuckery happened between time spent in the everafter and time passing on planet remnant. It seems like /at most/ a week or two has passed in remnant but it might honestly be a one to one on only a few days have passed. I really thought rwbyj would be coming home to major time loss like a few months because this show is so mean and the hits simply do not stop coming

i have a lot of questions about the time skip bc of this:

rwbyxjl2 suggests that it’s only been a few weeks since part one, which might just mean from team rwby’s perspective (ie, the elapsed time on remnant while they were in the ever after is not included)?

but by the time they get back, amity looks like that. it’s been converted into a fuckoff huge battleship (<- confirmed in screenshots of the script i think eddy shared on twitter last year) which is a very time- and labor-intensive process. i also simply do not believe it is feasible for this work to have been completed in vacuo, with everything so in shambles.

so my working theory right now is that qrow, robyn, and the ace-ops rendezvoused with maria and pietro onboard amity and helped pilot and/or haul it to argus, where they rendezvoused with cordovin, who has the means to take over the amity project and get it into working order as a military vessel with a labor force drawn from argus. (giving the citizens of argus a massive project like this to focus on will also be good for morale, win-win)

global comms are still down. once the plan was squared away with cordo, qrow and robyn and the ace-ops booked it straight to vacuo to update the coalition on the pledged future help from argus. all of that would have taken a few days to a week or two, tops.

(i imagine pietro and maria stayed behind in argus to help with amity; pietro’s expertise is most useful there, and she’d want to be there for him while he grieved and worried about penny.)

qrow and the rest aren’t there during the initial memorial service at the start of the epilogue but are present in the later gathering in winter’s monologue; because the mantelian civilians are present in the first but not in the second, i assume this is not an error but rather there was a second, smaller gathering once qrow, robyn, and the ace-ops arrived and learned that rwby and jaune were gone. so i don’t think the monologues/montages are happening concurrently; they’re in sequence.

grimm attack vacuo for days. things settle down for a while, with tensions still high. merc and tyrian spring the twins within a couple days of things starting to calm down, then qrow and everyone shows up not too long after with news about amity and help on the way if they can hold out for a few months. a little while after that, the refugee ship from vale arrives and grimm hammer the city again. an indeterminate amount of time passes—i think it has to be a few months, to give the amity construction time to finish and travel halfway around the world—before reinforcements arrive from argus, boosting morale and probably giving the coalition just enough of an edge to reestablish a sense of normalcy, with the result that the crown’s skyrocketing popular support plateaus. then team rwby and jaune return.

which is a fair bit to catch up on, but also not too bad, and tracks with “when you’re needed most”—the blacksmith probably sent rwbyj to the exact moment when the coalition stabilized so that they could help figure out a plan for what comes next.

[ccbb2222]

A Woman in Charge- Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: The wifi cuts out during your workday so you go to the next best place to finish up your work calls: the Hard Deck. Rooster shamelessly eavesdrops on your work call...and he likes what he hears.

Pairings: Rooster x Reader

Warnings: Some swears, mostly flirting

You sigh, locking your car in the parking lot and slinging your work bag over your shoulder. The wifi going out before your final few meetings of the day was not on your bingo card this afternoon. Knowing the local coffee shops would be overridden with afternoon patrons, you headed to your local dive, the Hard Deck, where you figured you could post up unbothered before the 5 o'clock rush.

Waving to Penny as you walk in, you motion to your work bag, "All good if I bum your wifi off of you if I order a beer?"

Penny laughs, writing down the wifi passcode and sliding it across the bar top, "No purchase necessary, hun. You're here plenty to earn your right to wifi.'' Laughing gratefully, you find a seat at the corner of the bar and open your laptop, carefully pulling your prep notes from your bag. You see your direct report's name pop up on your screen with an incoming call and you quickly grab your headphones.

"Chloe, hi," You greet, shifting your laptop to get the camera to the best possible angle.

"Hey," She greets, then squints looking at you, "Are you...at a bar?"

You laugh, explaining your wifi dilemma and she nods, "Wait, isn't that the navy bar?"

You shrug, "Yeah, I guess it is."

Chloe smiles gleefully. Although she was based out of the East Coast, her sister lived in San Diego. "Oh girl, I hope you score a hot man tonight." "Hey now, I'm still your boss," You joke, before stirring the conversation back on course. "So what's up?"

Chloe sighs, then divulges the latest messages between her and the creative director that you were due to meet with in 15 minutes. "So he's saying the project won't be prioritized. And then proceeded to lecture me on how to best submit requests 'on time.' And that once I'm with the company longer, I'll understand how it works." You roll your eyes. As a boss, you weren't afraid to show your mutual frustrations. "You did submit the request on time though," You say, "In fact, I remember you submitting it early."

Chloe nods, "I did! And that's what I was going to say. But he just kept turning the conversation back to prioritization and made me feel like my work wasn't important."

You see her shoulders deflate and you feel frustration wash over you. You were still, by all accounts, "young." As a 27 year old, you were by no means a "well seasoned" adult. But you had been in the corporate world longer than fresh-faced, recent grad, Chloe. You remembered what it felt like to be in her shoes.

"Are you okay if I run point on this meeting, Chloe?" You check, "I don't want to overstep, but I'd love to be able to weigh in on how your work is being...'prioritized.'" You finger quote the last word, which gets a cackle out of Chloe. She nods, "Oh by all means." You wrap up with Chloe and end the call. Sifting through your notes, you listen to your work playlist as you gear up for your next meeting. You knew it was never easy working with Dan, the creative director. He was condescending and quite frankly, sexist. The way he treated Chloe made your blood boil. You knew exactly how it felt, you had been on the receiving end of it. But enough was enough.

You were so caught up in your notes and (fucking amazing) playlist, that you don't notice the group of naval aviators enter the Hard Deck.

Penny greets them with a smile, "Cutting out early today?" She asks looking at her watch, "It's only 3:45." Hangman laughs, leaning against the bar top, "Grueling day with the new class. Mav wasn't easy on them." "A round for everyone, then?" She asks and receives a chorus of yeses. "Up for some pool, Rooster?" Phoenix asks, only to be promptly ignored.

Rooster was locked in on you, seated at the far end of the bar, laptop opened and mouth pulled down in a frown. He was struck by how beautiful you were, but even more so, how adorable you looked with your brow furrowed. "Helloooo?" Phoenix shakes his shoulders with a laugh. "Oh, sorry, what?" Rooster runs a hand through his hair and returns his gaze to his best friend.

"She's pretty," Phoenix says with a knowing smirk.

"She really is," Rooster agrees, leaning on the bar and returning a shameless stare.

"Bradley!" Penny scolds, and he jumps, "Let the woman work." Phoenix and Hangman, having witnessed the encounter, both bark out loud laughs at Rooster's blushing face.

"I — I," He stutters, and Penny just grins at him like a cheshire cat.

"You can talk to her after she's done working. Now shoo," She waves her dishrag at him and he shuffles away with his tail between his legs.

You wait for the clock to hit 4, and then you promptly enter the work call, leaving your camera off.

You wait for the greetings, and then unmute yourself, "Thanks for hopping on everyone." You start, "Sorry for the background noise and lack of camera. My wifi went out so I had to relocate and it seems to have gotten a bit busy here.” You pause to adjust your headphones, “Just wanted to meet to discuss our upcoming projects and see where we can land on prioritization. Would love to hear from Dan's side what's top of mind, then we can share what's top of mind for us, and hopefully reach a game plan. Sound good?" Unbeknownst to you, Rooster was listening to your every word. Standing just a few feet to the left of you, he sipped his beer and "watched" Hangman and Phoenix square off in pool.

He smirked at how confident you sounded leading the meeting, and didn't miss the way you clearly rolled your eyes at something that was being said on the call. He figured your camera must be off given the eye roll and the constant tapping of your fingers against the bar top, seemingly out of frustration. He wanted to see you get worked up over him.

"Can I jump in for a second, Dan?" You say, a slight edge to your voice. Dan had been on a tangent about team priorities, but had dropped in a not-so-subtle slight towards Chloe and her short tenure at the company. Waiting for him to stop talking, you continue, "I understand how your team can only work on so much at once. What I'm getting confused about though is how Chloe's tenure here has any weight on where her project stands. We have presented this plan to many teams, including the CEO, and they have all expressed interest and are bought-in. In fact, given the cross-functional buy in this project has, the predicted impact, and the deadline we're facing, I would argue this should be the team's top priority."

Bradley's jaw is practically dropped at this point, listening to how assertive but eloquently you argued for your direct report. If he had to be honest, it was probably one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. He definitely wouldn't mind being bossed around by you. Hell, he had to stop himself from crawling on his hands and knees over to your barstool just to be ordered around by you. Ending your call you smile, knowing the case was strong and getting additional support from the others on the call. Dan had no choice but to cave, although he didn't seem happy about it. Your laptop lights up with one more incoming call from Chloe and you promptly answer.

"OH MY GOD." She says, and you laugh. "That was AMAZING." You shrug, and let out a breath, "Hey, I need to stand up for my directs. Plus, your project has way more buy-in than half of the things they have on their to-do list. Just gotta stand your ground sometimes. I won't stand for people talking to my teammates like that. It's not okay." Chloe smiles gratefully, "Well, thank you again. I'm going to finish up that deck we talked about earlier and I'll see you Monday?"

"Sure thing," You smile and wave goodbye, checking the time to see it was 5:15. Shutting your laptop, you wave Penny over, "I think I'll go for that beer now." Penny laughs, but dodges your credit card as you hand it over to start a tab, "That man over there has you covered," She says with a smirk.

Confused, you turn around to see a tall, gorgeous man heading your way. His lips are quirked up in a crooked smile, his top lip covered by a perfectly groomed mustache.

"Beer's on me," He greets, hovering over the stool next to you, and you look up at him with a small smile, "I've gotta say, I may or may not have been listening to your work call.” You pretend to be scandalized by throwing a hand over your heart and a mock offended expression crosses your face. “That is an invasion of privacy,” you scold teasingly.

The man laughs and continues, "All I'm saying is, you run a tight ship." You smirk, turning to face him, "And you are?" He smiles looking to the seat next to you and points to it. You nod your head, and he sits down next you, "Bradley Bradshaw, at your service ma'am."

God, he was charming. You offer up your name and hand and he shakes it firmly.

“So tell me,” he says leaning towards you, “Have you always been able to finesse what you want, or did that take practice?”

You decide to give into his playful banter, “Oh, I get what I want most of the time,” You answer, “I’ve found most people tend to fall in line with a little persuasion.”

Bradley nods at that, “I can certainly see why,” he all but whispers.

You hold his gaze until you feel your cheeks start to warm and a blush stains your face.

“Tell you what,” You say, standing up, and trying to maintain your cool, “I’ve got plans with my friend tonight, but I’m free tomorrow. I’ll meet you back here tomorrow night, same time?”

Bradley nods instantly, “Sounds like a plan.”

You smile and start to pack up your work bag, “Good. Thanks for the beer, Bradley.”

He watches you walk out, and then it hits him: you’ve got him in the palm of your hand, and there’s truly no other place he’d rather be.

[hondafuckingodyssey]

X-men comic recommendations

The other day I went on a rant about how nobody should attempt to read all of the x-men comics in order because if the x-men have no respect for the spacetime continuum, you shouldn't have to respect reading their shit in order.

So here's a list of comics series, some that I've read and some that are on my to read list. Mind the authors and the dates, Marvel likes to recycle titles so sometimes you'll accidentally pick up something that's a completely different story from ten years later.

If you're going to getting your comics from the library and different sources (cough archive.org cough), or skipping around to different eras, I recommend an app like Comic Geeks where you can track which issues you've read. As a bonus, you get a satisfying little dopamine hit every time you check off a comic you read.

The original silver age comics from 1963 Stan Lee and Jack Kirby These are fun, but they kind of suck. I believe X-men was one of their worst selling titles for many years. They are campy fun though, like that island has a giant acme magnet on on top of it, I wonder if that's Magneto's secret base, hmmm? I'm kind of working through these when I just have my phone because they're easier to read on a smaller screen than the new stuff with full page spreads.

Chris Claremont's classic X-men run, starting in 1975. This is the classic starting point I hear recommended again and again. You start with Giant Size x-men number 1, and then go to X-men issue 94. This is where all the classic x-men are introduced. You got your Dark Phoenix saga, and Days of Future Past, and a lot of the storylines that were used in the 90's animated series. Everybody should read some of these. But Chris Claremont was writing the X-men for FOURTEEN years. Do not attempt to read all of these before you move onto the modern stuff.

The Dark Phoenix saga, 1980 Chris Claremont, issues 129-138 Ok, I just finished these last night and they're so good that I want to make a special call out for them. I jumped ahead to read them and I'm so glad I didn't wait. I can't figure out how the movies sucked so bad when they had this source material to work with. We could have had an epic moon battle? If you don't read anything else from this era read these. Pro tip: get the epic version of like a prayer stuck in your head right before starting on issue 137. Really adds to the atmosphere.

X-men Season 1 by Dennis Hopeless, 2012 This is a graphic novel (so published altogether instead of in individual issues) retelling of the original silver age comics. It's mostly from Jean Grey's point of view. It's very fun.

Children of the Atom, 1999 by Joe Casey, 6 issues Sort of a prequel, explains how Charles Xavier recruited a bunch of teenagers. This looks good, but it started out with mutants being lynched, and with the way I always compare being a mutant to being queer, and the election and project 2025 looming, I decided this one was too much for me right now.

X-men First Class, 2006 by Jeff Parker, 8 issues I read the first four of these and they were cute. Bobby is writing home to his parents about his time in school, Scott and Jean go to the beach. Lots of fun character stuff. Originally 8 issues but it looks like they immediately did another run of issues the next year.

New X-men, 2001 by Grant Morrison his run starts with issue 114 This is a great place to jump in if Deadpool & Wolverine got you interested in x-men comics, because it's got Cassandra Nova in it. She's doing her weird finger thing! Supposedly this is one of best places to jump into modern x-men. I've read about 6 of them, so far so good.

Astonishing X-men, 2004 by Joss Whedon This is supposed to be the best x-men run ever. It continues directly from Grant Morrison's run. I'm saving it for next time I have a mental breakdown a rainy day.

All-New X-men, 2013 by Brian Michael Bendis This is what I'm reading the most of right now. Cyclops is being an asshole, and Beast decides the best way to solve this problem is to go back in time and bring the original teenage x-men from '60s back with him to confront him. This works particularly well as a jumping in point because they keep explaining backstory through the kids finding out all the ridiculous things that have happened. Like, poor Jean asking how she died, and they're is like, um which time?

[shrekgogurt]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

Thanks for the tags @theearlgreymage and @wellbelesbian !!!!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

For the sake of this endeavor I’m gonna focus on I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man which is also more affectionately referred to as IKABIKAM, eyecab eyecam, 👁️🚕👁️📸, etc.

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

Natasha as like a vaguely Margaret Thatcher figure but she was in office in the late 90s not the 80s don’t think about it too hard okay the exact policy/praxis doesn’t matter so much as the ideology/vibes/dynamic + Davy (The Mage) as like a fucked up Welsh caricature (of his own design) because he’s overcompensating and has the media literacy of the worst film bro you’ve ever had the misfortune of talking to = their sons falling in love through football/soccer against all odds as juxtaposed between childhood and adulthood.

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Trauma

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

Solsbury Hill for obvious reasons

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

This one :-)

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Okay, I’m usually absolute ass at naming files in any helpful fashion but this project is so organized on Google Docs. My notes app is a different story. Those don’t even have titles. I just launch into my whims as they come.

Most interesting answer I can give is that the folder containing all my fic documents is titled “kill the part that cringes.”

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

Listen, I warned y’all.

To be in love with Simon Snow—a life sentence, an encyclopedia of grief.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

In the original musings of IKABIKAM—titled Scarborough Fair as the club was gonna be in Scarborough—Simon was Irish rather than Welsh and raised by Ruth. I know. Wild to think about now. But it’s true. And then I did some excavating on canon and the story we have today was born. Lost to time (the original idea of this fic which was actually two fics) is a whole very fun scene. I had planned that after the international break match against other, Simon convinced Baz to go out on the town with him. I wrote this snippet back then. It didn’t make the cut for obvious reasons and honestly I don’t know how much I stand by the characterization. Or the prose. Everything about IKABIKAM is better to me but this sexy little number deserves the people’s attention. I’m slightly concerned it’s offensive.

They’re playing INDUSTRY BABY in this club right now? I’m not dancing with Simon Snow to a Lil Nas X song. That music video…I’m only a man. I’m also not exactly sober. I will not risk a Snow relapse. Besides, Snow himself just downed the rest of his drink.

He leans toward me to say something. With the combination of his drunkenness and his accent I can barely make out his words, “eye gahta gohbakta da barrr.” (Translation: I’ve got to go back to the bar.) He really doesn’t.

I pluck the glass from his hand, “this last one is on me.”

He goofily smiles. His head is drooping to the side and his eyes are half-lidded. It would be adorable if I wasn’t worried about him falling over. I scan the room. One of the other Irish players is nearby. I hook Snow’s arm in mine (both my hands are full!) and drag him towards his teammate. He stumbles behind me looking completely blissed out.

I tap the other player on his shoulder. Clancy I think? The left winger. “Hey, I’m going to force Snow home so he can avoid a stomach pump. Could you make sure he doesn’t wander off while I close out my tab?”

He nods. I throw Snow at him and maneuver through the crowd up to the bar. It’s packed. I finish my own drink before I can push an opening to order. The bartender nods at me. She looks worn out from the night. I don’t blame her.

“Soda water with lime please.”

“Sure. What’s the name on the tab?”

“Grimm-Pitch. Could you close it?”

She nods and turns on her heel. A minute or so later she returns with the drink and my card. I take them.

“Is there any chance I could close out my mate’s tab too. He’s pissed.” I gesture back at the direction of Snow and Clancy. A circle of women have surrounded them. Honestly, fair.

The bartender gives me a wary eye. “What’s the name?”

“Snow.”

“Snow? Like the footballer Simon Snow over there?” She points at Simon.

I nod. The bartender scoffs, “Sure I’ll give Simon Snow’s card to some random Englishman.”

Random Englishman? Am I really going to have to do you know who I am this woman? I go for a subtle approach and just sort of lift an eyebrow and draw attention to the name on my own card: Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. The realization hits her. I was afraid I would have to tie my hair up.

“Oh shit. Fuck you’re Baz Pitch.” She stares at me. I hold out my hand. “Right, the card!” She hands me Snow’s card.

I nod, “Alright. Thanks.”

She shakes her head at me, “No, sorry for the hassle. Have a good night English…defensive midfielder…Baz Pitch.” She says my name with a laugh like she’s awestruck I’m in this Dublin nightclub (fair), “and thanks for the win today!”

I’m beyond tired of hearing that line.

When I return Snow is having the time of his life: posted up surrounded by ladies singing along to Ayyy Ladies. They’re not being subtle in their flirting. (Again, fair. Good for them.) Snow is incredibly respectful despite being off his face. Good lad. He’s still far too drunk to consent to anything so I don’t feel terribly guilty for pulling him away from the grind fest.

When he sees me approach he lights up, “Baz!” His arms fly open. “Took you long enough.”

I hand him his drink. There is a blonde woman dancing on him. She throws her arms around his neck. He knocks back the drink and chugs it in one go. A little water dribbles down his chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. It catches on his bottom lip. He hasn’t looked away from me once. And this fucking song…

“When I hit it from the back, don't fuss, don't fight

When I put it in ya mouth, don't scratch, don't bite”

I need to get the fuck out of here.

He hands me back the glass, “That drink was awful. What was it?” His speech is a little less slurred than before.

“Water. I’m taking you home.”

He blushes, “What?”

“You’re plastered. So, you should get sick in your own loo rather than on this lovely woman,” I give the blonde a wink. She dances away.

I’m pretty sure tabs aren’t even really that much of a thing in Ireland. And like…I don’t think you can close them out for someone else. So like. I don’t know what the fuck I was on while writing that. Obviously not Google.com, or reality. But most of all I was absolutely jump-scared reading that back and discovering I was gonna make Baz a defensive midfielder? WTF!?

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

A hockey one-shot. Whenever it happens the chirps are gonna be out of this world.

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

One in a way that’s meaningful. Maybe two. It’s a fresh thing.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

The chapter is really expositional in an isolated way and so I have to backtrack for context without being boring.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Blessed beyond belief.

Now tagging @artsyunderstudy @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @j-nipper-95 @noblecorgi @prettygoododds @thewholelemon @valeffelees @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe omg and @emeryhall tell me everything