#and sing it with 20k other people

[melit0n]

"Like lovers entwined...I know for the last time; you will not be mine. So give me the night, the night, the night."

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 9  Part 1- August Moon

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Waking up in yet another unfortunate circumstance, your mind strays to thinking of things you would rather forget.

Warnings: Explicit smut, child abuse

Word Count: 8.6k

Notes: This chapter started to get really long really quickly. Rather than postponing again and posting a 20k+ word chapter, there will be a part two. It’s a different format than other chapters, but the show did flashback arcs so why can't I?

“August Moon, laid just for you, steady, ready, smile like his, until it's out of sight. Don't undo the true chance that chooses you Face to face with a new day So simple it seemed, you dare to dream impossibly, risking its rarity of ‘I'll do it now' Black and blissful, tumbling, I wake, I sleep, it feeds me Fate may rule you and heart it fools you to lose your sanity”

xx

It wasn’t the simple process of recalling how you ended up bound on the floor in the dark, or even trying to figure out how to escape the confinement. It was a million memories dancing through your head all at once, an entire lifetime fogged up with anesthetic playing out in your aching head. 

All it took was a little doubt, right? A little confusion. And then you weren’t you, a person who had lived and failed and tried and been hurt over and over. A woman who had done unspeakable things and made unfathomable choices. You were her. A girl too small for her age, a girl whose bones poked out from her pallid skin. Her cheeks weren’t round and rosy, they were hollow and gaunt. She stared solemnly with eyes that seemed too large for her face, as glassy as those of a doll. In stark contrast to the finery of her nursery, she wore dirty pajamas and had unwashed hair. 

That was you. From a life you didn’t want to remember, filled with so many things you couldn’t forget. 

You remembered how cold it always was when Dad was gone. You remembered the feeling of hunger gnawing at your stomach. You were too young to know how to feed yourself or get warmer clothes, you only understood that your tummy hurt and you couldn’t stop shivering and that Mom didn’t want you to leave your room. You remembered sitting on your floor with your doll, quietly playing by yourself. Her name was Peach. She was your sister and your best friend. 

More anything else, more than the fear or the sadness or the longing or the pain, you remembered Mom’s voice. She was singing and you could remember that song so clearly that you dreamed of it years and years and years later. Her melancholic melody floated down the dark, cold hall. The house had been silent since Dad left on a trip. He was a doctor, which meant he had to take care of people. Mom hadn’t been feeling well. She called it morning sickness, even though she seemed to get even sicker at night. She threw up a lot, and she said her head and back hurt. She said she needed to rest, which was why you weren’t allowed to leave your room unless she said. 

But now she was singing.

Thinking about it for a moment, you put your doll Peach into her bed to be comfortable and safe while you were gone, pulling the little blankets up around her chin so she didn’t get cold. The house was always so cold. You left your room, your sock-covered feet making no noise on the wood floors. Mom’s voice was every bit as beautiful as she was, even when it was haunting and sad.

When you peeked around the doorway into the room she and Dad shared, you saw her sitting on the window bench, watching the lifeless gray sky. She was covered in something dark and wet, like she had spilled a drink. It puddled in her lap and coated her hands, dried on the edges but saturated so heavily in the middle that it still glistened like wet ink. You watched as tears slid down the side of her face, dripping from her chin. They kept falling, even as she sang.

“Momma?” you asked softly, suddenly uneasy. “Momma, what happened?”

She stopped singing, looking towards you with hazy eyes. Her face was drained of all color, her cheeks gaunt and hair a mess of flyaways. She held out her hand for you. Whatever was on her lap had dried on her skin, flaking off like rust from her fingers.

Blood. It was blood, you could smell it now. The vile metallic tang nearly choked you.

“Momma, you’re hurt,” you said, crossing the room and taking her hand without a second thought. Dried blood smeared over your hand. Her skin was ice cold.  

Her pale lips parted to say something, her chest swelling with a breath, but nothing came out. She just looked confused, her brow pinching and fresh tears forming in her eyes. 

“Mommy, you’re bleeding,” you insisted, feeling very cold inside. Dad wasn’t home, and you didn’t know who else could help. 

“Why was it you?” she asked, looking lost. “A girl. A daughter. Why are you the only one to make it? If you were a son—if I had a son…” She put her other hand on her stomach. “It was a son, I know it was.”

“Momma?” 

She blinked, her eyes focusing as if only just noticing you. Quick, like you had burned her, she dropped your hand. 

“Draw me a bath,” she said, a sharpness you recognized very well returning to her voice. “I am fine, this is… Fine. Don’t tell your father about this.”

“Yes, mommy.”

There were many things Mom didn’t want dad to know, things about her. Later in life, she told you to hide things about you from him. But that came later. 

From back then, you could remember very clearly that Mom and dad fought a lot. Sometimes it seemed like all they did was fight, and then Dad would leave on a ship, and then it was just you and Mom. When he got home, things would be fine at first, but that peace never lasted very long. 

You could hear them in the den. It was a fight that had been brewing for a while. Mom was shouting in a shrill tone, but Dad only ever talked quietly. His voice came out in a low rumble that demanded absolute attention, like rolling thunder. Just as fearsome too.  

You wanted to go upstairs, but that would mean going through the den and you didn’t dare interrupt them. Instead, you held Peach tight in your arms and covered your ears to block out their voices and waited for the storm to pass. 

She shouted. He spoke. There was thumping. Mom screamed twice. And then a heavy silence fell upon the house. The clock seemed to tick even louder in the absence of their voices.

Did that mean it was over with? You crawled out of your hiding place, softly walking down the hall until you got to the arch leading into the den. Light from the crackling fire within illuminated a little halo into the hall, but there was no warmth to the orange glow.  

Hardly daring to breathe, you peeked inside. Mom laid in a broken heap on the floor. She was bleeding. It gushed out of her nose, pooling on the hardwood. Her eye was already swelling and she cradled her stomach. Her shoulders shivered with little hitching sobs. 

You didn’t see Dad anywhere, so you tentatively entered, walking as softly as you could. 

“Mommy?” you asked, approaching her slowly. 

Dad said your name from the stairs, making you jump. Mom whimpered.

“Leave your mother alone,” he told you as he came down. “It’s time for bed.” 

“But mommy—”

“Now,” he said, his eyes narrowing. 

You knew better than to argue with him when he used that tone of voice. You looked back at Mom, feeling sick. She was in pain, you knew she was. But Dad would help her, wouldn’t he? He was a doctor.

“Goodnight mommy,” you said, petting her head. “I love you.” 

Her only response was a weak sob. 

“Didn’t you hear that, birdie?” Dad said. “Your daughter said goodnight.” 

Mom let out a shaky breath, looking up at you. “Goodnight, baby.” 

“Okay, come on, sweet girl,” Dad said. “It’s late.” 

Nervously, you crossed the room to the stairs where Dad stood. He didn’t look upset anymore, you could almost believe that nothing bad had happened. When you started to pass him, he held out an arm to stop you. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked. 

You looked up at him, confused and anxious. 

“I think I deserve a goodnight kiss from my sweet little girl,” he clarified warmly, leaning down to scoop you up into his arms. You stiffened up, squeezing Peach to your chest. 

“Goodnight, daddy,” you said, kissing his cheek. He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you worry. Things are going to be better from now on,” he told you. “Right, birdie?” 

“Yes,” Mom answered, her voice pained. 

Dad let out a heavy breath, nodding. “I hate that it has to be like this, but it’s for the best. I’ve been too easy on you girls for too long, and it’s my responsibility to take care of it.” He closed his eyes for a second, pressing his face against your neck. You held your breath. 

“My sweet little girl,” he said, pulling back. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? I love you both.”

“I love you too, daddy.” 

He kissed your forehead before setting you down, ruffling your hair. 

“Alright, mommy and I have to talk. You better be in bed by the time we’re done, okay? I’ll check.”

“Yes, daddy,” you said. 

As soon as his attention was off of you, you went up the stairs. You remembered being too small to take them properly, it was more of a climb than anything. A tiring climb. And then it was down the cold hall into your room, and straight onto your bed. You pulled the blanket up to cover both you and Peach and held the pillow around your ears to shield them.

You remembered many nights just like that, huddled with your doll in the stifled dark, waiting to fall asleep because it was the only escape you had. 

28 Days Earlier

It was your own upset whine that woke you up to something approximating consciousness, and then you became aware of several things in quick succession. You were in Buggy’s bed, cradled in his arms with your back against his chest, you were both naked, he was touching you, and what was most probably his erection was pressing against your thighs. You squirmed, confused, catching a glimpse of his nose and smile when you twisted your head around, before pressing your face back into the pillow with a soft groan.

Your head hurt. Actually, several things hurt. It took you a few seconds to grasp what was real. Last night, going to the Maison Rouge, getting drunk, the bathroom, having dinner, getting carried back onto the ship, and then everything else.

At least that explained your headache.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Buggy said cheerfully. Fitting that the one morning you wanted to sleep he would be awake and in good spirits.

Your only response was a harsh gasp when he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just a little too hard. 

“You are awake right?” he asked. 

“Mmmhmm,” you agreed.

“Good. I didn’t want to stick it in while you were still snoozin’.”

You made a confused sound. Most of your functional brain was focused on the way he was touching you, one hand holding you against him while the other shamelessly groped your chest. 

“Cap’mm Buggy, what’re you-” 

“Don’t get all weird about it,” he said, releasing you to sit up. Blinking groggily, you rolled onto your back to watch him grab a bottle he’d wedged between the other pillows. His makeup was all faded and smeared because you hadn’t taken it off last night, the sparkles dusting down his cheeks. “I’m gonna be gentle.”  

“Oil?” you asked, confused as he uncapped it with his teeth and poured some onto his palm.

“Yeah, you were fuckin’ soaking last night, you’re probably all tapped out,” he said with a smile, clarifying some things by tossing off the blanket to stroke his cock, coating it in oil. This was a dream, it had to be. Buggy looked at you, his smile exchanged for a look of impatience. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” you said automatically, although you still felt like this had to be a dream. 

Buggy rolled his eyes, stroking his cock one more time for good measure. “Quit gawkin’ and lay down.”

You laid back down, too sleepy to argue. Not that you would. Surprising you somewhat, Buggy laid down too, rolling you onto your side so you were spooning again.

You tried to twist around, confused about what he wanted. You thought you understood, but this was different. New.

“Lift your leg up,” Buggy told you. After a second of trying to understand what he meant, you did and he pulled you down enough for him to get his cock between your legs. 

Oh. 

Your breathing immediately picked up. Excitement? Nerves? You couldn’t tell the difference clearly enough to know. You didn’t fight him, your fingers digging into the sheets as he ran the slick head through your folds back and forth until it caught. The feeling made you shudder, your stomach flipping. 

“See?” Buggy teased. “You loooove this.”

“Don’t we,” you began to say, speaking more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you meant it, “don’t we need to get up and… um…” 

“And what?”

You tried to string together a coherent response, but it got lost as Buggy began to push into you, your argument disintegrating around his cock. The oil made it so smooth, he barely had to work it in, just pushing and pushing until you were full. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, his voice smug even though it was strained and hoarse. 

If you were going to object in the first place, all of your thoughts disappeared when he moaned right into your ear. The sound was almost as potent as the feeling of him inside of you, you couldn’t help but tighten up around him, letting out a little whimper. Buggy laughed, rolling his hips lazily. 

“We’re on vacation, babydoll. Just relax.” 

When you and Buggy finally got out of bed, it was later than was at all reasonable and you were already worn out. Conversely, Buggy seemed to be full of energy. You got a look at yourself in the mirror, shocked and a little disgusted by the sight. There was only so much that could be done to salvage your appearance. Your hair seemed unable to take any other shape than an utterly disastrous nest, and the smears of makeup didn’t respond to water no matter how hard you scrubbed. Your bandana was on the other ship too. Since you were out a pair of very nice panties and the only clothes you had was last night’s red dress, you borrowed a loose linen shirt of his.

It did absolutely nothing to cover the worst of the damage—the bright red marks covering your neck from ear to collarbones. Some were very clearly bite marks with indents of teeth, others were less distinct splotches of red, and a few were just bruises.  

“Sheesh, you look wrecked,” Buggy said, which was a little unfair. His makeup was smeared and he needed a shave and to tame the wild blue mess of his hair, but he didn’t look sickly the way you did. There was a brightness to his eyes, an energy you didn’t think you ever had. 

“‘s not that bad,” you said, covering your neck with your hair. 

“Come here, let me get a better look,” he said, dropping into his chair. You obeyed with halting steps, coming to a stop where you were more or less at eye level. Buggy didn’t look into your eye though, prying your hands from your neck and pushing your hair back to appreciate the work he’d done. “Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.” 

You couldn’t look at his face, staring off to the side. You didn’t want to think about what you did last night, the things you said and did and agreed to. You are mine. 

How embarrassing. 

Your reaction made Buggy frown. “What’s that look for?” he asked. “You said I could do anything I wanted.”

“‘s embarrassing,” you muttered. “But that… It’s fine, really. Do you want me to-” You gestured to your chin and neck. 

Buggy ran a hand over his face, sighing. “Fine,” he said. “Makeup first, though. Somebody forgot to take care of that last night.” 

You frowned because that wasn’t your fault which made him laugh, his mood smoothed over just like that. 

Taking off his makeup was a very familiar process by now, as was preparing everything to shave his facial hair. You wished that the fulfillment of whatever twisted desires you had would have cured you of your preoccupation with Buggy’s face and neck, yet you found yourself as interested as ever. At the very least, you got through it without incident before wiping the remaining shaving cream off and applying the aftershave, appreciating his smooth skin. Maybe that was selfish.

“I just realized,” you said as you were cleaning the blade before returning the razor to its case. “I can’t cut you, can I? Because of your… your thing.” 

“My thing?” he repeated, holding up a mirror to see if you had done a good enough job. 

“Your Devil Fruit… thing,” you clarified.  

“You just realized that?” Buggy asked. You couldn’t tell if his tone was amused or derisive. Both, probably.   

“I thought the reason you didn’t let me at first is because you thought I would cut you,” you explained, turning around to put everything away. “Because you didn’t trust me.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do a shitty job.” 

“I don’t think people would notice either way,” you said. “They’ll be too distracted by-” 

“By what?” Buggy asked sharply. 

“Your cheekbones and jaw,” you said, hoping it sounded like a normal complement and not creepy. “You know? They’re pretty enough that I don’t think a bit of hair or anything would matter.”

“You were going to say they’d be too distracted by my nose, weren’t you,” he accused. You looked over your shoulder at him, surprised to see his simmering rage. 

“I wasn’t,” you told him, frowning. “You don’t even have hair there, it wouldn’t make sense.”

“What you said doesn’t make any sense either.” 

“I, um,” you stammered, confused. “That’s not what I mean, sir. I swear.” 

“Whatever,” Buggy said, standing up and going into the bathroom. You couldn’t tell how seriously he was upset by the perceived slight. Sometimes Buggy got really angry, but sometimes he seemed to forget it as soon as it happened. 

While he was gone, you finished cleaning up the shaving supplies before stripping the bedding. By the time he emerged, you still hadn’t decided if you were meant to apologize or not.

“Do you want me to go get breakfast?” you asked, fidgeting awkwardly. 

“Ew, no,” Buggy said, wincing as he tied a kerchief around his hair. “Never eat ship food if you can avoid it.” 

“Then… Can I stay here with you?” you asked.

He grabbed his makeup case and sat back in his chair. “I doubt anyone else wants you.” 

You sat on the end of his bed. The morning activities really had worn you out in a way they didn’t seem to for him, and you felt a little gross to be sitting there covered in a film of sexual grime, but it was better than being alone. Much, much better. 

“How long will we stay in Lafitte, Captain Buggy?” you asked, looking out the window. It was another lovely day. 

“Until I say we’re leaving,” he answered, focused on his makeup. He was very good at it, painting on the shapes quickly and efficiently. You felt warm while watching him, like you could relax because you weren’t alone, because he wanted you by him. 

“It’s creepy when you stare at me like that,” Buggy said, bringing your musings to an abrupt halt.  

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said.

He smirked, adding the finishing touches to the blue around his eyes before powdering it like Pippa had with your makeup.  

“Okay, new rules!” Buggy declared when he was done, standing up. “You,” he pointed at you, “do not leave the ship without me. You don't talk to anybody that’s not me. Really, just, only do what I tell you to do. Daddy dearest doesn’t have any proof that we’ve got you yet and I’d like to keep it that way. You’re gonna lay low, keep your head down, and not do anything stupid. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding, your stomach tied in knots at the reminder. 

You helped Buggy get dressed, but your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of your dad. He wouldn’t be thrown off that easily, not from getting you back and not from pirates. You weren’t sure why you managed to convince yourself he would be. 

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Buggy asked with something like bitterness in his voice. “The Surgeon.” 

“I guess.”

“Well don’t. I won’t let that crusty bastard take you back,” Buggy told you, rolling his eyes. “That’d be such a waste, I’ve got your pussy all broken in and everything.” 

Your face scrunched in disgust while Buggy laughed, ruffling your messy hair to make it messier. You wanted to give him a hug before he left, but you couldn’t think of a way to make that seem appropriate. 

“I’ll bring you back something nice to eat, okay, babydoll?” 

“Will you be gone very long?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound desperate and knowing you did. 

“I’ll be back before you know it. If you’re good and you get all your chores done, I’ll get blondie to dress you up so we can go out.”

Once Buggy left, you went to the berth to find a high necked sweater to cover the marks on your neck and get cleaned up. Although it had only been two days and you hadn’t even been on this ship very long in the first place, you had the sensation of being home. Or, being someplace more homey. Whatever your feelings, it was better.

Although it was late for it, people were still hanging around getting a cold breakfast. You wouldn’t have thought so many people would stick around but, apparently, it was payday. Everybody got a split of what had been plundered from the Dolce and those involved got more for the other ship. 

Mohji handed out the money while Richie watched everybody’s bowls very sharply. You didn’t expect anything, Captain Buggy hadn’t really mentioned payment, but you still got a cut. It was strange to get money from a man who had only recently seen you locked up in the brig and called you hostage, but in the absence of the Chief of Staff, it was up to Mohji.

“You look shocked,” Marty said as everybody dispersed. “He didn’t short you, did he?”  

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… I’ve never had this much money,” you admitted. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re a pirate,” he said. “You go out and blow it all on booze and hookers.”

“Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship. Also I…” You frowned. “I don’t think I’d do that anyway. Is that what you do?”  

“Before you think too harshly of me, girly,” Marty said. “Don’cha think it’s better to pay a girl who’s clean than to catch something?”

You nodded like you understood. “That’s true. And I would never, ever judge you,” you told him. 

Marty smiled, shaking his head in amusement. 

“By the way, do you, um, do you know where Mr. Cabaji is?” 

“Captain Buggy sent him off on some mission,” Marty said.

“Oh, that’s good then,” you said, more relieved than you should have been. Cabaji was smart and strong and capable, and if something happened to him somebody would have mentioned it.

It looked like Marty was going to ask you something, but he was cut off by a familiar voice. “Did Mr. Mohji pay you?” Pippa asked, making you jump. She had approached from your left blindspot, and you hadn’t been paying enough attention to check. 

“He did. I was just advising her on how best to spend it,” Marty told Pippa. 

“We’re going shopping, obviously,” she said. 

You frowned. “Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship without him.”

“You can’t keep wearing my hand-me-downs. He must know that. If he doesn’t trust me, then Marty will come along to keep us safe.” 

“He will?” Marty asked. 

“If it’s for a good cause,” Pippa said, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. He clearly wasn’t charmed by her, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe another day,” you told her. “I’ll ask him later.” 

She sighed. “Fine. There are things I need to get while we’re here anyway.” 

“Do you wanna go get something to eat first?” Marty asked. “I can’t stomach any more salted meat.”

“It’s too early to start drinking,” Pippa said. 

“Start?” Marty asked, pulling a flask out of his pocket. She rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll see you two later then?” you said. 

“Shame you can’t come along. Sorry, girly.” 

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling reassuringly. “I’m fine here.” 

Neither looked like they entirely believed you, but nobody would argue with rules Captain Buggy set out. That was, if nothing else, the strongest unifier among the crew. 

They left, and you focused your attention on getting your chores done. First, however, you stopped by the clinic, but Crina wasn’t there. 

Without anything else to keep you occupied, you tidied up Captain Buggy’s cabin. In your absence, he had made a mess of it. Even though you were not in an entirely different position than you had been yesterday, you felt peaceful while cleaning. Now that you had a taste of his absence, you knew how dire it was that you did whatever you could to stay with him.  

You weren’t sure how you were going to do that, but you were going to figure it out, and you were going to be very, very good at it.  

The way you were tied up was simple. Hands secured behind your back with plain rope, and your ankles bound in the same way. Your head ached painfully, swimming in the thick fog. A drug? It felt like it. That was the only thing that could separate you from reality so thoroughly. 

You remembered the first time you were ever knocked out with a general anesthetic. It was because you broke your arm, but it didn’t heal right because you weren’t strong enough. Your parents told everyone you broke it because you tripped, but you remembered what happened. You wished you didn’t. You wished you remembered running and falling, that would be so much better. 

But that wasn’t what happened.  

Miss Frizzy was the children’s teacher. Barley was too small to need more than a few teachers, and everybody had to learn together with different books. Dad said it was different in places with more people. You wondered if that would be nice, but you liked Miss Frizzy. She had long, dark hair that was very straight and sleek. She was young like Mom, and very pretty like Mom. You liked that she was nice, and that she smelled like vanilla, and that she gave you lunch when Mom forgot to pack yours. Sometimes, in the most secret place of your brain that you would never tell to anybody ever, you wished that Miss Frizzy was your mom. 

School was over, but you had to stay because Miss Frizzy asked your mom to come into the classroom. Since it was an adult conversation, they set you outside the room in the hallway to wait. They thought you didn’t hear them, but you did. Miss Frizzy gave you a book of hidden object pictures, but you had no desire to find quilted stars or a rocking horse. You sat Peach in your lap so she could look at the pictures while you listened to the adult conversation. 

“I am… concerned about your daughter,” Miss Frizzy said. 

“What did she do?” Mom asked sharply in her ‘be careful’ voice, the scary one that let you know she was getting upset, the one that made your spine tingle. 

“She didn’t do anything. I just wanted to discuss her social development. I’ve noticed a few things that are a little worrisome.” 

“Like what?”

“She’s around the age that we’d expect to see more verbal communication. The difficulty with kids her age is usually trying to get them to stop telling you what they’re thinking or feeling, but she’s the opposite.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me there’s something wrong with my daughter because she’s better behaved than other children?”

“No, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her. I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I might do to make her more comfortable—what is her behavior like at home?”

“That’s not your business.”

“It’s just that, with kids like her, it’s important to encourage confidence and self expression.”

“She’s not well, you know that, don’t you?” Mom said. “That’s why she’s shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“No, there’s not. But I would like to help her socialize, especially with the kids in her class. This is a very important time for social development.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

There was a beat of silence before Miss Frizzy spoke. “Social behaviors are learned,” she finally said, “I worry she’s not in an environment that makes her feel comfortable or safe to express herself.”

“Safe?” Mom demanded, her voice raising. “What is that supposed mean? You think she’s afraid to express herself because of me? It is not your business to tell me how to raise my daughter. And you know what? You ought to be careful if you’re going to be making these sorts of insinuations. You know who my husband is.” 

“I’m not insinuating anything,” Miss Frizzy said.

“I am her mother. I know what’s best for her.”

It was quiet for a moment. A very long moment. “I’m worried that’s not entirely the case,” Miss Frizzy said softly.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Ilse Frisby,” Mom said, her voice mean and sharp like a knife. 

Miss Frizzy tried to say more, but Mom emerged from the office.

“We’re leaving,” she told you with the type of look that you knew better than to argue against. You stood up immediately with Peach tucked beneath your arm, accidentally dropping the book. Rather than waiting for you to pick it up, she grabbed your bicep. Too tight. You winced, scrambling along to keep up with her as she dragged you out of the school building. 

When you were out of sight, Mom rounded on you, her expression dark. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, momma,” you said, out of breath from having to walk so fast, your arm aching from the way she’d been dragging you. 

“You said something to her, I know you did. You told her I’m a bad mother, didn’t you?” 

“No, momma, no, no,” you denied, shaking your head and fighting your tears. You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help the reaction in the face of her rage. You didn’t exactly understand the adult conversation, but you understood it had upset Mom. Really, really upset her. You squeezed Peach against your chest for comfort. 

“You did, you had to have said something. You’re such an ungrateful brat. Do you have any idea how much I sacrifice for you? For you. And then you go to that-that woman and you tell her that I’m a bad mother? You owe me everything, and instead you just…” 

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t fight them anymore. 

“Oh, you’re gonna cry now?” Mom demanded. “Fine, go tell that woman how bad of a mother I am, go cry to her and tell her lies about our family.” 

“No,” you said, your voice getting all stopped up in your swollen throat. “No, I’m sorry, momma, I’m sorry.” 

“No, go. Go tell her all about what a terrible mother I am!” She used her grip on your arm to push you back towards the school building. Peach dropped first, falling into the dirt, and you felt something give out and there was a terrible crunching cracking noise and then you fell onto the ground too, scraping your knees across the dirt and rocks. Blood roared in your ears and you stopped crying because the pain punched everything out of you. It screamed up from your arm, but you couldn’t make a sound.

Tears and snot dripped from your face and darkened little spots in the dirt and you couldn’t breathe and mom was talking more but you couldn’t hear her. She dropped onto the ground beside you and looked at your arm. It looked wrong. It hurt so much you felt sick. 

“Oh, my baby, no, no no no,” she cooed, gently pulling you against her, her voice so soft. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, I love you so—” 

Your arm had to be set and put in a plaster. The surgery and anesthetic came later.

“Your mother loves you,” Dad told you that night. “She loves you very much. You know she didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You nodded, holding Peach even tighter with your good arm. When you dropped her earlier, she broke. There was a faint fissure going down her face, right over her pretty glass eye. That hurt almost as bad as your arm.

“She worries about you,” Dad said. “We both do. What you did is not alright. You do not tell people about what happens at home. That is not appropriate. Do you understand?” 

You didn’t think you had, but why else would Miss Frizzy say those things? Why else would Mom get so upset? You made a mistake, and there was only one answer. “Yes, daddy,” you said softly. 

Those words made you feel hollow inside. The last time you said them was when you were trying to convince him to stay because even if you were miserable, you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave him. 

Yes, daddy. 

In a twisted way, that memory wrapped right back around to your first time with Buggy. Most of your life you thought you would probably die a virgin. Sex was dirty, and gross, and made you feel bad about yourself. How old were you when you came to that conclusion? Nine? Ten? You remembered the girl who told you. Her name was Harper.

Harper’s family lived on a small dairy farm on the edge of town. In a town full of fishermen, you thought cows were cooler, but Harper said it wasn’t much different at all. Just like them, she had to wake up long before dawn and work for hours before coming to school. The only difference was that she smelled like the barn while the boys who worked on the boats smelled like fish. 

She was the only one in your school around the same age as you. Around the same age. Harper was six months older. Months that grew longer when you factored in the height difference, which seemed to get more substantial every week. She used those months and inches as the primary reason for why you had to listen to her and do what she told you to do. Mainly that included letting her take your toys, colored pencils, and hair ribbons and only playing games that she liked. It also meant, probably on account of those six months of extra experience, that Harper knew a lot of grown-up things that you didn’t. 

An overcast sky loomed above, a sharp wind churning up the smell of brine and salty sea air below. You and Harper lived in the same direction from the school, so you would walk together to the big fork in the road. Then you went up the hill and she went around. Both of you were sniffling and bundled up tightly. Made worse by the wind, the cold got under your coat and nestled there, an inescapable chill. 

“We should make a get well soon card for Dawn,” you said. You had heard that afternoon that she would be out of school for a few months, she’d come down with something bad. You knew all about that. 

Harper snorted out a laugh. “Dawn isn’t sick.” 

You looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Harper looked at you with an expression you knew well. A mixture of pity and superiority, like you were stupid, or at the very least woefully naive. “She’s pregnant.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s not true.” 

“It is,” Harper insisted testily. “My sister told me. She said that Dawn’s a slut. She’ll do it with any handsome sailor so now she’s pregnant.” 

“Oh,” you said. 

Harper smiled. “You know what that means, don’t you?” 

You mulled that over, trying to divine her meaning from words alone. Slut was bad, you knew that much at least. But the rest, you weren’t so sure. Harper obviously wanted you to ask her. She liked doing that. You always felt so stupid not knowing all of the grown-up things that she did. 

“I guess not,” you finally allowed.

“She had sex. That’s how babies are made,” Harper said imperiously, like she was teaching you a very important lesson. “That’s where they both get naked and a man puts his penis in the lady’s down-there parts. Boys have different bits, they stick out. It’s like this-” She held up her hand in the shape of a circle, slowly putting her finger through it to demonstrate. “And then the girl gets pregnant.”

Your face screwed up with disgust. “No way.” 

“Yes way. That’s how you were made,” Harper said crossly. “Your mom and dad had sex and then you were born. And that’s what Dawn did.” 

“How do you know that?” you asked her, still reluctant to believe something so gross and taboo. 

“My mom told me in case a creepy pervert tries to touch my privates or chest. I’m starting to get breasts, you know. I’ll need to wear a bra soon, and that’s when boys want to have sex.”

Harper said that a lot, talking about how she would need a bra soon, but you didn’t think her chest looked any different. You didn’t tell her that though, because then she said you were jealous because she was taller and looked older than you did. You weren’t jealous. If having a bra made boys pay attention to you, you’d rather not. And the whole idea of sex just seemed gross. Probably Harper was lying, she did that sometimes. And if she wasn’t, that was worse. 

But you didn’t say any of that, you just agreed, and then you told her goodbye at the big fork and made your way up the hill thinking about lots of icky, uncomfortable things you would really rather not. 

24 Days Earlier

For you, clothes had always been somewhat of an afterthought. It wasn’t a matter of money. Dad didn’t like to see you wearing anything especially ostentatious or too flattering, he said that it would attract attention and make you look cheap. That, combined with your propensity to get cold, meant that you wore a lot of the shapeless sweaters Pippa hated so much.

Not anymore. 

After a shockingly quick run through of the first shop, Pippa sent you into the changing room with several outfits at the ready. You were still reeling from the newness of it all. Without her, you never would have been able to pick out anything, there were far too many options. 

Taking in a deep breath, you started with a white buttoned shirt. It had a sweetheart neckline and long, frilly sleeves. It was paired with a pair of pinstriped bloomer shorts, the kind that were meant to be seen rather than hidden beneath a skirt. Unlike everything you had worn previously—except for the red dress—both items were fit for your size. It was a lovely outfit. And then you looked in the mirror, remembering your problem.

“Pippa, I can’t wear this shirt right now,” you said doubtfully.

“What are you talking about?” Pippa asked, opening the curtain. You immediately covered your neck. She looked you up and down, her eyes relentlessly critical. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just…” When you didn’t elaborate, trying to think of a way to explain the problem, she grabbed your wrist to pull your hand from your neck, revealing the marks littering your skin. The ones from the other night had only just begun to fade, and Buggy had decided to add more that morning “So you don’t forget.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Was he trying to eat you?” Pippa asked, her tone so matter-of-fact you almost weren’t sure if she was joking or not.

“I…” You huffed, shaking your head. “Did you get anything with a high neckline?” 

“I doubt Captain Buggy wants you to cover them up.”

“How do you know that?” you asked doubtfully. 

“That’s how men are.” She shook her head, a little amused. “Marking their territory. He doesn’t want anybody else trying to play with his toy.” 

You frowned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, I’m not judging you for getting in with the captain. If I thought I could get away with it, maybe I’d try the same thing.” 

“With Captain Buggy?” you asked sharply, your voice raised with the higher bend of defensive jealousy. 

“Relax,” Pippa said, looking a little surprised by your reaction. “He’s clearly got a type, and he’s certainly not mine.” 

“Sorry, that’s not what I…” You fumbled on the apology, unsure of what you were apologizing for exactly. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re getting that outfit, try on the black skirt with suspenders next,” Pippa told you, unruffled, “it should go with that shirt.” 

She left the changing booth, closing the curtain. You couldn’t stifle your embarrassment about your reaction, and then thinking about the other night, caught on the worry that you may have embarrassed yourself even worse while drunk. What worried you, more than anything, was her motivation for helping you so much. Did it really make sense that she would like you when you behaved like that? 

You thought about that as you rifled through the hangers, finding the aforementioned skirt fairly quickly. It was one of the few black pieces among lots of white and red. 

“Pippa,” you asked while you got out of the pinstripe shorts, relying on the safety of hiding behind the curtain to muster the courage to ask. “Are we friends?” 

“What?” she called.  

“Are we friends?” you asked again, more insistent. The skirt was shorter than you expected, you would have to wear something underneath it otherwise your panties definitely would show. “You’re not just doing this because Captain Buggy and I are… you know.” 

“Oh, that,” Pippa said. “I won’t lie, that’s why I helped you at first, but now… I like you. It’s hard to find somebody who’s willing to let me dress them up, especially someone like you. I could never get away with wearing clothes like this.”

You emerged from behind the curtain, awkwardly tugging on the hem of the skirt. Luckily, there weren’t many people in the store to see your bite-covered neck. 

“See? You look adorable. I can’t pull off the cutesy style,” Pippa said with no small amount of wistfulness. “You can wear those lacy bloomers I gave you under that. You’ll need stockings too.” 

“You really don’t think it’s too short?” you asked. 

She gave you a flat look. “Do you know the luxury of being short?” 

“I don’t think there are any.” 

“If you wear that skirt, nobody’s gonna be even a little scandalized. If I wore something that short, it would be a problem. Enjoy it.”

You weren’t sure that was true, but it was a cute outfit.

The other things you tried on weren’t as successful, but Pippa said that was fine. As soon as you paid, she was dragging you into another shop. Things proceeded in pretty much the same way. While you were busy eying up a dress to decide if you liked it or not, Pippa was compiling an armful of clothes for you to try before shuffling you into the changing room. 

“There’s a few plain cotton dresses, you can pair them with the corset tops or sweaters. Try those first, it’ll be good to have a few on hand,”  

You picked through the hangers, looking for white cotton but finding a mass of white tulle and shiny sateen. You pulled it out, realizing that it was a dress. The skirts and sleeves were absurdly voluminous.   

“What’s this white dress?” you asked.

“That’s yours. For the show,” Pippa said. “Isn’t it beautiful?” 

“It is,” you agreed, although your hesitance was plain. “You said it’s for me?” 

“Yep.” 

“You don’t think… I mean, if I wear this, I’ll look like a kid, don’t you think?” 

“I think,” she said, “you’ll look like a doll. You don’t have to try it on right now, I’ll need to alter it anyway. Just try those cotton dresses.”  

“Oh yeah, right,” you said, trying very hard to not think about why she bought you a dress for the show. 

After that, you visited a few other boutiques, ending the spree with a trip to a store that only sold underwear. As embarrassing as you found that one, it was necessary. Pippa said you had to ‘maximize your assets.’ What that really meant was wearing bras that had padding in them. Although they weren’t comfortable, you were a little excited about it. Now more than ever you were aware of how deficient you were. 

It was late afternoon as the two of you made your way back to the ship. Shopping was oddly exhausting, as was carrying all the bags. 

The question occurred to you while you were shopping for underwear, and now it burned on your tongue. You knew you needed to do it. You had to ask, the only other person you could think to ask was Crina but you got the feeling she wouldn’t react as well. And Pippa said she was your friend.

“Pippa… Can I ask you something and you never tell anybody ever?” 

“Is it about sex?” she asked absently. 

You flushed hot, all the way to your ears. “Yes.” 

“Go ahead.” 

“I know what a, um, a blowjob is, but I don’t know… how.”

“What are you asking me?” she asked, her eyes flicking towards you for a moment. 

“I was wondering if you did, and if you could… I don’t know, do you have any advice or anything?” Hearing your own words made them a thousand times worse. You shook your head fast enough to make the twintails swish, grimacing. “Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, it’s okay. I just had to make sure,” she told you. “You know how to give a handjob, right?” 

You blinked, freezing up in the face of that question as you realized that maybe you misunderstood what was meant by that last time you used the term. “Um...”

“Stroking his cock with your hand,” she said.

“Oh! Oh, I guess.” You had definitely misunderstood what that term meant last time you used it. 

“That, but you add your mouth. Lick, suck, bob your head on the end while you jerk him off. If you’re having trouble with getting the rhythm, ask him to help you out.”

You nodded, trying to commit that all to memory while avoiding combusting on the spot out of embarrassment. “Okay, and, um… I can’t fit it all the way in my mouth. When he tried to, I choked.” 

“You’d want to practice suppressing your gag reflex,” she explained casually, unconcerned with the subject or the idea that people walking past could hear her. “Some people can do it, some can’t.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You’re overthinking this,” Pippa said. “If you seem like you’re having the time of your life worshiping his cock, it doesn’t matter how deep you can take it.”

“That sounds… really embarrassing,” you admitted, catching sight of Buggy’s ship. That was good, your arms were burning from carrying so many bags.  

“It doesn’t have to be,” Pippa said. “Sex should be fun.” 

“It is!” you said quickly, defensive. “I just… I’m so… I feel disgusting, you know? And I don’t know what to say or do during and then after it makes me want to, I don’t know…” You shook your head, trying to think of a good way to phrase it. “I wanna peel off my skin or something. Do you ever feel that way?” 

“No,” Pippa said, looking at you with a frown.

“Oh, um, I mean…” You forced a laugh. “I think I’m just being silly, I’m sorry.” 

Pippa nodded. Neither of you brought it up again.  

“I’ve got a special move for taking people down,” Buggy said over dinner that night. He brought it back to the ship for you rather than letting you go into town again. You liked that better anyway, when it was just you and Buggy. “I won’t spoil anything, but by the time I’m done, the sorry sucker’s nothin’ but chunks on the road. I’ll show you one day, it’ll blow your mind.” 

You thought about that for a moment, looking at your plate. “Does it, um, does it bother you at all?” you asked. “Killing people.” 

“Why would it?” he asked out of the side of his mouth, talking through a big bite of fish. 

“I… I don’t know. You’re taking away another person’s life. Everything they were, everything they could be, all of that is gone because—because of you.” 

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Babydoll, it’s not that big a deal. If they die, it was their fault for being in my way.”

You nodded. “My dad used to say that he never killed anybody. He only killed pirates.” 

“Funny, I’ve only killed idiots.”

As desperately as you wanted to be able to think like that, you weren’t sure you could ever excuse yourself in that way. You wished you could be strong like Buggy, that you could adopt such an easy point of view. If you could, you would be better.   

“Okay,” Buggy said, dropping his fork onto his empty plate and leaning back to pick his teeth with his knife. “I’m ready for the show.” 

“Show?” you asked.

“You went shopping today, didn’t you? As my little protégé, the way you look represents me. I gotta know you’re meeting certain standards.”

“It’s just like what Pippa was giving me before,” you said, oddly embarrassed by the idea of putting on clothes just to show Buggy, “but now everything fits.”  

“Didja get new undies?” 

Your lips twisted up in an embarrassed smile, a little giggle bubbling out of your mouth. Buggy had seen you in all states of undress, you weren’t sure how you could manage to still feel so shy.

“I mean,” he said, gesturing towards you with the blade of his knife, “it’s a real shame about what happened to the ones from the other night. You gotta be more careful, babydoll.” 

You wanted to point out that it was his fault for ripping them because he wasn’t patient, but you had a feeling he’d just turn that around on you anyway. 

“I did,” you said. “Get new stuff, I mean.”

“Great,” Buggy said, dropping his knife and clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with that.”  

[yakumtsaki]

Oh yay, our first thunder fire in the new house, wonder how long before someone dies again! Also love how you can see our old house in the background, a reminder you can run from your past but you can’t escape it. 

I am of course talking about this family’s past of semi-acceptable interactions between family numbers, because from now on is where things really go off the rails in this department. Allow me to introduce you to..

..Julian and Stacy’s daughter, Sunset Tinker-Union! (Because her parents wear pink and purple, get it? Get the name origin?) So the minute Bartholomew brought Sunset from school I knew it was over for me, as we’re now far enough removed from the other branches of the family tree that not even the extended family mod can save us from all those third cousins being fair game.. and you all know full well that if there’s one thing this family knows how to do, is be attracted to their distant cousins-

-I held out to one tiny hope that maybe Barflina will continue being socially incompetent losers and Sunset will hate them, but no, the minute a distant cousin enters the building it’s clearly time to turn up the charm. So first Bartholomew goes and smustles with Sunset, which, Barth, I didn’t know you were even like, biologically capable of having fun in any way-

-and then Felina (who I keep forgetting is SHY LOL WHAT) goes over to ADMIRE HER. BRO. I have never seen Felina do anything remotely nice her entire life, KILL ME.

But don’t worry, Sunset clearly takes after auntie June! She’s into it! She follows Barth to the toilet for no clear reason! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME

So you at this point you might be like ya ok, calm your tits, there’s no guarantee anything will even happen. To which I reply go back and read, not even the whole thing, just our college runs, and then get back to me. We’ve been knocking on semi-incest’s door since generation 1 and now we don’t even have to knock, I mean the door is wide open! FML

ANYWAY, all this to say, it’s time to extremely focus on finding these two flops non-related-to-us people to date before we fuck off to college, and this is ALL I’m gonna be doing this update- 

-Like haha oh man Cyn and Sandy are starting a rock band, there’s def jokes here, NO. NO TIME, DON’T CARE, HAVE TO AVERT DISASTER.

-Failina, hold your goddamn notebook closer so I can copy, it’s hard with my eyepatch! -It’ll be even harder when I take your other eye out!

Alright you two.. uh.. awesome kids, let’s go out! 

-Go out where. -And WHY.

So you can have fun, meet people, maybe sing some karaoke or play bowling! You’ve seen how much fun your ancestors have had as teens out and about, driving drunk, being hoes, committing various crimes, you wanna miss out on that experience? It’s even how grandma Shajar met grandma Sophie and that marriage could not be stronger!

-Ugh ok, I guess I do need to get started on the spouse hunt. -And I would like to get drunk in a different setting than our library.

Perfect! Who knows, by the end of the night, you might even be besties singing duets like Jojo and Gunther!

Oh my- WE LITERALLY JUST GOT HERE. WHAT CAN YOU TWO POSSIBLY BE FIGHTING ABOUT

-SCREW YOU, DAVID OTTOMAS IS MINE -NO, HE’S MINE, HE’S THE ONLY TEEN SIM IN THE LOT AND I HAVE SENIORITY -THE HELL YOU DO

OK LET’S GO HOME

-SCREW YOU, I WANNA OPEN THE GARAGE DOOR -THE DOOR IS MINE, YOU CAN’T EVEN DRIVE YET

OMG LITERALLY STOP. I LEARNED MY LESSON, I’M NEVER MAKING YOU INTERACT AGAIN

Once again, I’m crawling back to Lakshmi! Finally she has returned to us! As you might recall I had to deal with her understudy, Margaret, and frankly she was better than Lak at her job but it just wasn’t the same. Lakshmi and I have HISTORY. We have a deep, dark, beautiful relationship-

-I’m not giving you a discount. 

UGH FINE. Take 5k of our last money (I forgot to mention the new house somehow cost 500K, we legit have like 20k left)-

-and hit us with your best shot!

-Oh, I will! 

Ok but you’ve said that before and I’m still not over the time I paid you 5k for June and you gave us iVan. 

-No, this time I mean it! The path is clear! 

The ‘path is clear’?? The path for FELINA’S love life is clearer than it was for June the literal model-hot genius???

-Indeed!

I gotta say, Lakshmi, your mouth better not be writing checks your crystal ball can’t cash.

-It is not, I promise! 

Alright, I’m waiting, do it to us-

OH

MY

GOD

IT’S MEADOW

THEY HAVE 3 BOLTS THIS IS ALREADY HILARIOUS. LAKSHMI YOU ARE FORGIVEN FOR ALL THE SHIT YOU’VE EVER PULLED ON ME

Bro this pairing is KILLING ME. Like I get it on paper since they’re both family sims and I guess their chemistry panels and zodiacs must insanely match too, but I thought Felina would get with someone like idk. Gvaudoin? Alegra Gorey? Klara Vonderstein? Maybe the Diva or a vamp NPC? Like you know what I mean, someone that makes sense with the whole dark queen powerful dynasty blabla she has going on. But no, she’s gonna start this house Lannister bs her LTW is about with.. MEADOW THAYER. I love it so much, Felina please don’t ruin this for us!

FELINA WTF DID I JUST SAY

-Sorry, but I don’t know you well enough to accept you touching my shoulder, huhu!🌞

-But if you want to tickle me again, that’s somehow more acceptable to me despite it involving way more touching!🌞

Alright, as I suspected, not a lot going on upstairs with dear Meadow, but it’s ok, I’m just glad to have a huhuing sim around again, Cyn is like 80yo :(

Ah, the tickling of love! Good job, Fel, now we can work our way up to flirting-

-Or I can just not be a turbocuck AND GO FOR IT

Man, the Sophie genes kicked in! Good for you, Fel!

Backyard karaoke time! Seriously what song could these two possibly BOTH like, please comment or msg me your guesses. 

So at this point I’m already 100% sold on Meadow as a spouse as I don’t think it’s humanly possible to come up with a funnier pairing than what fate dropped in my lap, but I’d also like to point out that Felina is so into Meadow that she’s already rolling fears of falling out of love with her, despite not even BEING IN LOVE WITH HER YET. Family sims are a fucking trip. 

CUTE. Alright Felina, you’re set, we got it in one, semi-incest avoided, yay us. Now I’m gonna leave you to your dream date and focus on Barth-

-who is gambling by himself. Guess I don’t need to ask who’s drunk again!

-That’s one safe bet, haha! 

Good Lord. Alright, get up, let’s find you someone while Lakshmi is still here, I’m sure our amazing luck will continue-

-OH FUCK IT’S TIAVE TEENS, HE HAS THE DON BROKEN FACE THING. ABORT ABORT

Oh good there’s nothing to abort, because it turns out Bartholomew is a COMPLETE FAILURE OF A ROMANCE SIM. Observe and keep in mind THEY HAVE 3 BOLTS:

-LALALA LALALA NOT LISTENING TO YOU INSULT MY SPATULA, FUCK OFF

LOL NO @ THE NOOGIES RETURN. FUCK. So clearly Felina has grandma Sophie’s chadly genes and Bartholomew has grandma Shajar’s noogiesexuality, except he’s a romance sim with a 20 woohoo LTW. College with this guy is gonna be UNBEARABLE. 

Alright, Barth, let’s try this again, don’t be discouraged! Ignore our lack of cash!

Ignore that Felina got it right on the first try and is still on her endless dream date!

PATRICK TEENS?! LMAO. Bartholomew is so committed to going through family trees, like if it’s not gonna be his own it’s gonna be SOMEONE’S, he doesn’t care! Unlike Don-clone Tiave, Patrick is cute tho, let’s give it a try-

-Ya, let me stop you right there, buddy, not into it but best of luck in your future endeavors!

Bruh. Let’s extremely call it a night, Barth.

-Oh hi, huhu!🌸 -Hi hi, huhu!🌞 -I feel like I know you?💗

Ya Cyn, if I didn’t have photographic proof that it’s not true I’d legit think she’s your long lost daughter. Man ACTUALLY how much sense does it make that like people tend to seek out partners that remind them of their parents and Cyn was always such a maternal influence on Felina??? Holy hell this game has so many layers. 

Clearly inspired by seeing her younger self in Meadow, Cyn finally finds it in her to woohoo again after Don’s passing! It’s legitimately crazy to me how loyal she was to him in death, like I can’t get over it, she never extended that courtesy to him while he was alive!

-𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙼𝚈 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙴.𝙴𝚇𝙴

It’s ok, Barth, you sleep off the romantic flopping and that tray of whiskeys and we’ll try again tomorrow.

-Ya, make sure to call us over when he ‘tries again tomorrow’ cause we don’t wanna miss it HAHA -HAHAHA boy did I screw him over by passing down my personality points! -You sure did, my little turbocuck! Let’s sleep in the same bed tonight, I can’t get into this one anyway with this flop sleeping there! -That’s what everyone is gonna be saying to him in college HAHAHA -HAHAHAHA oh Shaj, I love you, let’s work on our marriage! -I love you too, we’ll overcome our issues!

Awww, see Barth? Love wins❤️

[romaine2424]

Weekly Blog July 21, 2023

Well, I didn't mean to take this long to get back to my blog, but priorities. LOL. The priority was my WIP fic. I've yet to find a beta, but what I did find was Grammarly Pro. My daughter has a subscription. She uses it for final papers for school. I'm sorry, but I'm old and didn't know this AI app existed. So I ran each of my 20 chapters (110K) through the app, and wow, did I learn a lot. As I said in previous posts, what I needed help with was SPAG, sentence structure and word usage. My alpha and I cover the plot continuity and canon issues. It's canon divergent after HBP, so sometimes things slip in that happened in HPDH. *oops* I also ran my the @hd-fan-fair fic through it.

The app does have its problems with what it suggests sometimes. But it's easy enough to work around those. As it doesn't understand the content, it continuously dings me for using pronouns, especially He. And no, I don't want every time I use the word order to be Order or cloak to be Cloak. But thank you for showing me that I use the words just, that, and over a ridiculous amount of times. And thank you for fixing all the double spacing between sentences in the chapters I wrote in 2007 with a simple push of a button. And thank you for reminding me that when someone is going to sit that I don't need to specify that they are going to sit down, or rose up from the chair, or walked over to the exit door.

So, that's what I've been doing, along with a bit of reading. I have two recs! One Drarry and the other Narcissa with a side of Drarry. Both fics are new!

What I've been reading:

The first fic comes from @hd-wireless, which is currently posting. About This Place (10K) by Anon. Here's the Summary:

Harry left everything, including Draco. Harry’s returned to everything, including Draco. Things are never quite so simple, though perhaps they could be. Based on ‘You and I’ by Lady Gaga for Wireless 2023.

This fic is dripping with atmosphere. The majority of the story takes place in a small burlesque bar called Ronnie's. Well, the author is much better than me in describing it:

Within the tiny burlesque bar (or, not-quite-burlesque bar, as Ronnie would say) are the queers that are a shade too queer for the regular gay clubs. Trans butches are ogled by confused twinks, a pretty femme in the middle of the room teases salivating straight women who came here just for fun, and a tall drag queen with an auburn wig flowing down to her waist is on the main stage, singing with a sea of androgynous dancers behind her, winking at her pianist as she launches into a song they most definitely did not rehearse beforehand. The pianist looks annoyed, but really, he’s good enough that he can handle anything Ronnie throws at him. His long blond hair is half up in a bun, and despite his winged eyeliner and red lips and high heels, he’s probably the most unassuming person in here. He’s very pretty, but also concentrated in a way that doesn’t invite people in; you would feel intrusive saying hello, or asking for his number. He’s wearing all black: high waisted jeans, a well-fitted turtleneck—his uniform.

The story, as the summary stated, is about Harry returning to London after travelling for a few years. He and Draco had been in a relationship before he left, and now Harry wants him back. Love this trope. Draco was hurt that Harry left, really hurt. And now, when Harry walks into Ronnie's, he knows he'll succumb to Harry's wants, but there will be resistance. Working through the turmoil of misunderstandings and being scared to take a second chance can sometimes be frustrating to read with this trope. BUT NOT HERE. The author's writing is so beautiful and poignant you become fully immersed. Harry's revelation about his time away, why he went away, and why he's back is just guh! Draco doesn't stand a chance. LOL. Still laughing about the couch!

About This Place by Anon on AO3

The second fic is Night Dragon, Dawn Bird (20K) by Xenjyn (AO3). As the author says in her notes, this is the story that gives Narcissa the agency she deserves. And it is pure poetry. The Summary is just two lines:

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" "Yes."

It begins with the time period right after the war but before the trials. The location is Malfoy Manor, where Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco are living in the midst of the destruction left by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Narcissa is lying in bed as Lucius sleeps soundly next to her, and she's contemplating all that came before that led the family to this point in time. Draco is traumatized and coming into his own revelations.

Draco is alive and hidden in one of the midnight dark parlors, knees drawn to his chest, sitting in a chair which used to swallow him when he was young. Now he’s too tall for it, his long legs curled to his chest and his hands clutched tight around them, his face hidden in his knees. He’s sleeping, or weeping. Shoulders rising and falling. Or trembling.

...

Perhaps he sleeps less than her, now. The blanket she conjures flutters around his shoulders, weighted, warmed with a charm. It barely touches him but his eyes open, a frightened start, and then her hand is in his hair, thicker than she remembers it, curling at his temples, stroking over his scalp. “It’s only me, my darling. Sleep.” “Mum,” His voice is so small, so rasping, like he were ill, in the deepest clutch of a fever. His hand finds her wrist, squeezing tight. “ Mum . ”

There is a dreaminess to this story. We're immersed in Narcissa's thoughts, and they flit from the past to the present and conjecture of what's to come. And there is a background voice in her thoughts: Bellatrix. She's always there pushing Narcissa with her comments. It's quite creepy but oh-so-delicious.

Bellatrix spins, pulses at her, a star-shine fading in and out, closer and distant, like the voice that used to sneak into her room, like the whisper of a laugh when they were girls, like the hiss of madness outside Severus’s door. Cissy, Cissy, Cissy. She calls, I can ’t sleep, Cissy. I’m bored, Cissy. Play with me, Cissy.

There are four relationships (Narcissa/Lucius, Narcissa & Draco, Narcissa & Harry, Harry/Draco) that we are privy to, and the most surprising is the one between Harry and Narcissa. That forest scene was a nexus point for both. They're connected. But the most heartbreaking is between Lucius and Narcissa. We're treated to their past and how they got together. How much they were in love, but then, Lucius fucked up. I won't give it away, but it was one of the most insightful scenes I've read in dealing with their marriage. There is a side of Drarry in the story, and it's like a soothing balm with everything else that is going on.

I feel like I'm failing to say how good this story is in how beautiful it is to experience Narcissa and her path to her agency. Never forget she is a Black witch. Bellatrix says it best. Cissy, not a threat?

Night Dragon, Dawn Bird by Xenjyn on AO3

I hope you get a chance to read both these fics and please give them comments of love.

I would love to know if you use or have used Grammarly and what you thought of it.

That's all for now,

Rom

[juliansswimmingpool]

Merthur Fic Masterlist (Updating)

These are some of my favourite Merlin fics so far. A lot of these will contain spoilers for the show. They are listed in no particular order. I have also cropped some of the summaries to save people the scrolling time.

Formatting is as follows: [Title] by [Author] | Completion Status | Word Count (to the nearest thousand), Chapters or Parts (if series) | Rating | Warnings (if applicable) | Key Info/Themes | Summary (I did not write most of them)

Updates since first posted: 1

Under 10k:

The Tulip Thief by Polomonkey | Complete | 3.2k, 1 chapter | General Audiences | Modern setting, fluff, pre-slash, misunderstandings, hand-holding | 'Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard'

10-20k:

to go with grace by andiwriteordie | Complete | 17k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Post-canon, character redemption, Morgana POV, angst, introspective, forgiveness | Morgana Pendragon is dead, at Emrys’s hand. Just as the prophecies had foretold. But before she can enter Avalon and find peace, she must first pay penance for all the sins she committed in her life. Her penance is quite simple: look after and heal Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, until the time comes for his return to the land of the living.

The Sorcerer and the Lionheart by just_a_wavefunction | Complete | 16k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Post-canon, historical references, friendship, Immortal Leon | Merlin spends fifteen hundred years waiting for Arthur's return. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait alone.

Hear Your Heart Sing (Love, Love, Love) by schweet_heart | Complete | 15k, 8 chapters | Mature | Soulmates AU, fluff, humor, angst, office romance | Merlin used to like the idea of finding The One – until he fell in love with Arthur Pendragon. Now he has a boss he can't date (but can't stop thinking about), a soulmate he can't find (who has terrible taste in music), and a best friend who can't believe he still hasn't got his act together (even though it's seriously not his fault).

From This Day On by lady_ragnell | Complete | 19k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | modern setting, canon era (it'll make sense), mystery-solving? (idk how to describe it) | While on a hike, Merlin and Gwaine stumble upon the Lost City of Camelot, cursed to wake up every morning a century in the future, and Merlin decides it's his duty to break the spell--with help from a prince, an imprisoned seer, and quite a few others. A Brigadoon AU.

A Metaphor of Human Bloody Existence by lady_ragnell | Complete | 19k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Modern with magic, humour, crack treated seriously, destiny | In which Merlin and Arthur (and others) band together to fight evil on the advice of a can of peas.

21-50k:

and with my opened mouth i join the singing light by intothefirewego | Complete | 33k, 6 chapters | Mature | Graphic descriptions of blood | Heavy angst, major character injury, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, magic reveal | Merlin frowned, and tried to inhale, but choked on a cough. He opened his mouth, trying to speak but his mouth was sticky and full and he felt warm, warm, warm, warm spilling down down down down… The world tilted on its axis a little bit, and Merlin leant into Arthur’s body. Why was the world tilting? Arthur’s face shifted from annoyance to horror.

Destiny That Darkly Hides Us by Nympha_Alba | Complete | 40k, 7 chapters | Explicit | Angst, WWI, Edwardian era, college AU | It's 1913, the practice of homosexuality is unlawful, so is the practice of magic. When Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys meet as Cambridge undergrads, they're both hungry for a real and true connection without secrets. For a short time they believe they may have found it. But war breaks out and separates them, and it seems unlikely that they will meet again. After all, what are the odds?

A.S.S. (Agents of Secret Stuff) series by supercalvin | 39k, 8 parts | Mostly Teen & Up | Mostly none, one fic is marked with Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Spy AU, modern setting, humor, crack treated seriously, BAMF characters | Merlin & Arthur are an unstoppable spy duo. Basically merthur + the knights and other characters do whacky spy shit

51-100k:

Singing Trees by aescrof | Complete | 65k, 11 chapters | Teen & Up | Canon era, different first meeting, magic reveal, fluff, angst | Arthur knew about the magic from the start.

Tributes by TheAvalonian | Complete | 88k, 10 Chapters | Mature | Graphic Depictions of Violence | Hunger Games AU, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort | It is the 57th annual Hunger Games, and Merlin Emrys stands at the Reaping ceremony with his best friend Guinevere Smith at his side. In a twisted game where death seems the only certainty, Merlin will find himself tested in ways no one could have ever predicted - and may even find himself fighting for more than just his own life as he enters into an unlikely alliance with Arthur Pendragon, the Career tribute poised to win it all.

Over 100k:

To Bare Our Teeth and Our Hearts by queerofthedagger | Complete | 124k, 14 chapters | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | An execution was not exactly on Merlin's bucket list, wasn't even what destiny had intended for him. Arthur, for his part, really wants to catch a break, and to stop thinking about his late manservant. Or sometimes, things have to go downhill first before they get better, and if Uther had known about the eventual outcome, he might've changed his mind for once in his life.

What I'd Have Done by Flight_of_Fantasy | Complete | 119k, 14 chapters | General Audiences | Canon era, magic reveal, heavy angst, gen or pre-slash, Arthur-centric, character study | For better or for worse, Arthur knows Merlin's secret. The problem? Merlin doesn't know Arthur knows. This leaves Arthur with a predicament… and an opportunity. A test. Three trials and three opportunities for Merlin to prove he doesn't deserve death. Arthur hopes he will pass them. Maybe then the image of Merlin's golden eyes will stop haunting him.

The Heart's Search by rotrude | Complete | 115k, 2 chapters | Explicit | Some violence | Romance, AU - dystopia, modern setting | For thirty-five girls/boys, the Selection is the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to escape the life laid out for them since birth. To be swept up in a world of glittering gowns and priceless jewels. To live in a palace and compete for the heart of gorgeous Prince Arthur. But for Merlin Emrys, being Selected is a nightmare. Leaving his home to enter a fierce competition for a crown he doesn't want. Living in a palace that is constantly threatened by violent rebel attacks.

The Great Merlin Bake Off by Elizabeth | Complete | 102k, 10 chapters | Mature | Modern setting, fluff, pining, schmoop | Because someone said, "What if it's Merlin, but they're on Bake Off?" AKA: The GBBO AU. It was bound to happen at some point.

Some bonus non-merthur Merlin fics:

Everyday Destiny (ffn, ao3) by Searchingforangels (ffn) or DancingInTheStorm (ao3) | Complete (only on ffn) | 53k, 200 chapters | General Audiences | Drabble collection, golden age AU, exploration of themes, non-linear narrative | Great destinies swing of small hinges; a collection of small moments that shape Albion. A pre- and post-reveal drabble collection.

[zot3-flopped]

Zayn left 1d because he's an indolent unreliable fucker who's happy to cancel shows and let people down. He's done this all the way through his solo career.

Harry would never break a contract or leave a band in the lurch in the middle of a tour so he stuck it out despite his dislike for Louis.

Zayn pretended Louis was his friend and still abandoned the band because he was so insecure about his own singing ability that he wanted to steal a year's head start on Harry.

The insane thing is that the year's head start did Zayn no good at all. As soon as the public saw he was just a studio singer who couldn't perform Pillowtalk live, they moved on and even a big Taylor collab couldn't save his capsizing career. Fast forward to 2018 and Icarus Falls debuted with 20k units in the US, and Zayn was officially over.

100%. All these Louies supporting Zayn are forgetting how upset their precious one was when Z left the band and didn't bother showing up for Louis when his mother died. If Zayn had a successful career now they would probably hate him like they do Harry and Niall, but all his success was six years ago.

And yes, Zayn dropping out of a world tour and costing the other guys their £2m each bonus was a typically selfish act that set the pattern for the whole of his solo career.

[the-priestess-of-dawn]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (i love your fics and it'd be cool to see which ones you like most, but no pressure!)

This is a fair question because I have 10 bazillion fics and sometimes I do wish AO3 had like, a showcase or something, so I could usher people right to the best ones instead of them having to look at whatever happens to be most recent. So, yeah, here's the fics I would showcase if that was a real feature:

True Believers - aka the Grimleal!Chrom fic. Pretty sure this is still my magnum opus to this day, even if it does largely follow Awakening's canon plot (just altered because 1, it's original timeline-based, and 2, Chrom started worshipping Grima as a kid). It's not very heavy on Grima, because Robin only awakens at the very end, but it IS full of angsty Chrom feelings and soulful Chrobin moments and sweet, sweet dramatic irony when the god Chrom is praying to for guidance is literally right there guiding him

Find a Way - Okay so uh... sad Chrom (tfw no Robin, sacrifice ending death stuck) goes to another world to try to save Grima from despair, ends up being Grima's malewife "servant" and taking care of Morgan and Lucina. Grima tries to stay evil, but this plan obviously fails. I really like this one because it's a domestic au but it's also fucked up. Happy ending though!

eye of storm - Grima possesses Chrom (with his consent) and they go back in time to get Grima a body (because Robin died, oops. Chrom is heartbroken and Grima is really causing them both a lot of unnecessary struggles by not telling him he was Robin). Anyway, Chrom wants to change things... save Emmeryn... end the war sooner... you know. So basically it's Fire Emblem Awakening but Chrom is Lucina (he even takes a historical name, "Anri") and also he's sharing his body with the vengeful god who is secretly the love of his life :::)

the thing with feathers - "this fic is sfw but emotionally it's for the dragonfuckers okay" <- I think my tag here says it all, really. I wanted to write Chrom kissing dragon Grima's hidden human face and it took me 20k words to get it to work out.

all i want for the black parade is you - Imagine a Bad Christmas Romcom except the whole time they're baking cookies and singing carols and stuff, the love interest is awakening as an ancient dragon god... Look, it may not be the best thing I've ever written, but I'm just so enamored with the concept alone that I HAVE to include it among my favorites.

[miss-kennedi]

ineffable: a 10 generation sims 4 legacy

/inˈefəb(ə)l/ ; adjective too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words. not to be uttered.

hii, if you don't know me *which is likely*, im kennedi. so like 2 years ago at this point for my first tumblr post i said i would make a legacy challenge. ive been obsessed with this stupid word since like age 11/12 and randomly it inspired a story that would be fun in the sims, so im putting it to keyboard.

this is my attempt at a legacy im gonna release the first 5 generations and if any of generations are difficult/impossible lemme know and ill do some editing :)

*important: there are 2 versions of this legacy

a. this one that you are currently on; includes the features of packs that i OWN (i don't have every pack because....???? you know)

b. a base game version if you are like me.. don't have all the packs and want to switch some traits/milestones.

rules: when i see people who have super extensive rules it really just like.. i aint reading all that. play the game the way you play and ignore these if you really want to !!

one. no money cheats. but that being said for the first generation you want to move into a house over the 20k and decorate it you do you.

two. mods are ofc allowed (and recommended) for more storytelling purposes i.e. first impressions or realistic childbirth. that being said mods that will make the challenge easier (cough cough ui extension cheats) are not allowed.

three a. complete all milestones for each generation. if you are unable to you can always change the amount of time you have (change the lifespan). but if you still cannot complete the challenge restart that generation

three b. lifespans can be set to which you are most comfortable with (i use simkhira’s lifespans, which can be changed using mccc)

four. this rule is super serious and if you do not do it you must restart!! TAG ME!!! not super important lol you dont have to but if you want; use the #mkineffablelegacy so i can see your families and storytelling because this should be a creative outlet for all of us.

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

generation one

"black diamond"

black diamond -- meaning love, purity, fidelity, and eternity -- why do you seem to keep all of this away from you?

born into a wealthy family youve lived a life of pearls and richs. you threw away that privilege to lead a life of “mystic” and “adventure” but you soon came to realize that its just instant coffee and cup of noodles.

you fail to keep a steady job and provide for you and your kid but you somehow made it work?

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

aspiration: villainous valentine

traits: ambitious, snob, hates children

life milestones:

live in san myshuno (any district but in the cheapest apartment)

do not have contact with your parents/have a negative relationship

complete your aspiration

have one kid with a one night stand

reach level 4 of the entertainer career (opening act) before quitting

work odd jobs OR part time jobs for the rest of your life.

max singing and guitar skills (use this to make money doing street performances

date your baby daddy/momma but break up after one sim week

have at least four other partners before becoming an elder

never marry and die single

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

generation two

"prefection"

your childhood was pretty rough, your parent swore they were the best parent out there but you know that’s not true, at least you hope it’s not true.

as a kid, you made a promise that you would turn out nothing like your parent. you focused on becoming the best parent but not the best partner. that star you wished upon was phony, maybe it was your destiny not never live a perfect life.

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

aspiration: super parent

traits: genius, family oriented, bookworm

life milestones:

completed your aspiration

have a high school sweetheart but promptly breakup before going to college

graduate high school with an “a”

get at least one scholarship

go to school for economics degree (does not have to be distinguished)

reunite with your ex in your second term and get pregnant, drop out.

get married and become a stay-at-home parent, and have two more kids (specifically boys, and ofc cheats/mccc !), three in total

divorce your partner

join the business career (you do not have to reach level 10)

remarry as an elder, retire, and be as happy as you can.

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

generation three

"the crow"

you know you’re the reason why your parent didnt join their dream job, they never resented you for it though. you assume it is because of your grandparent. you heard murmurs of that whole conservation throughout your parents arguments.

you never cared what others thought of you. you decided to follow your dreams because the two generations before you never did so. even though you are anti-establishment, you marry *the one*

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

aspiration: party animal

traits: romantic, dance machine, outgoing

life milestones

completed your aspiration

move at least once a season while single

go to a nightclub every night

max mixology, media production, dj, and dancing skills

make money any way you can (while single again)

meet the love of your life while at a party/nightclub

marry them quickly after meeting

join culinary career, and reach mixologist branch (you do not have reach level 10)

have 2 kids (preferably a boy and a girl)

be the best parent you can be!

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

generation four

"grand canyon"

nature is your sanctuary, and your family is very tight-knit. they spent every second of every day together but that just wasnt your speed. youd sneak off to hidden place where no one could find you. your temper wasn't the best either.

on a family road trip to the grand canyon, you and your sibling got into a fight. your parents werent quite forgiving to you and dubbed you the "grand canon". your explosive and erratic behavior has yet to end in adulthood.

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

aspiration: freelance botantist

traits: hot-headed, erratic, loves the outdoors.

life milestones:

cutt of your family (into negative relationship)

live off the grid

rely only on food you've bought/grown (simple living lot trait)

sell the crops you've grown for the rest of your life

max gardening and flower arranging skills

complete your aspiration

meet your partner in an outdoor location

have one child

be reluctant to getting married (only agree to get married as an adult)

(your partner forces you to invite your family to your wedding) reconnect with your family

regain the familial relationship into a positive.

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

generation five

"norwegian lundehund"

akc: "At a glance, Lundehunds seem a typical northern breed....But a closer look reveals several unique traits. They have feet with at least six fully functioning toes and extra paw pads, an 'elastic neck' that can crane back so the head touches the spine, ears that fold shut, and flexible shoulders that allow forelegs to extend to the side, perpendicular to the body. This last anomaly produces the breed's distinctive 'rotary' gait.

for half of your life, you do not remember your family. one parent orphan and the other never speaking to their family. when they got married though you reconnected. still animals were always their for you.

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

aspiration: friend of the animals

traits: loner, cheerful, creative.

life milestones:

attended university and get a biology degree (does not have to be distinguished)

work at a popular vet clinic

meet your partner working (either another vet or pet owner)

max painting and vet skill

complete your aspiration

marry your partner

buy a vet clinic or buy the vet clinic you worked at

have 3-4 kids

max parenting skills

live happy

----------------- 5 generations coming soon

[kuwdora]

WIP Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @ghostinthelibrary and @rauchendesgnu!

My pile of WIPs is a mess and I have TOO MANY. This isn't even a full list but it's what I have the most words or thoughts written out. Everything is Witcher fic because that’s where the hyper fixation continues to live. Also I have to label these with some details 'cause I forget what my WIPs are. Anyway! Feel free to send me asks about any of these! From my season 2 AU with Leshen Eskel:

You and I Becoming (Ciri and Leshen Eskel)

witcher allergies

Leshkel grows a garden

Other AUs:

Embers (Ciri and Yen season 2 AU)

Wingspan (Ciri and Saskia AU)

A Sad Sight (Blind Bard AU, Geralt and witcher-not-a-witcher!Jaskier)

from my post-canon series

widowfucking Jaskier (Geralt/Jaskier, and temporary MCD, Jaskier/widows)

Dolsdren, Laurid, and Jaskier (soft old Geralt/Jaskier+worldbuilding)

Some one shots:

My Alchemical Romance (Yen/Jaskier, with a side of Geralt)

Melting/kink (Yen/Jaskier)

In my hands (Fringilla/Yen)

Show, Don’t Tell (Geralt/Jaskier)

From my Jaskier/Oxenfurt series, still nominally titled Rosencranz and Guildenstern are Dead (or maybe singing from their grave):

Jaskier’s homecoming/Jaskier and Dijkstra

Puppetskier

Saovine Smuggling

Sewant Market Boulevard (Jaskier’s jewelry sidequest)

Some other smutty one-shots:

Seamstress (Yen/Jaskier)

Heckler (Dijkstra/Jaskier)

Polyamory now (Geralt/Istredd/Yen/Jaskier)

And I technically have like 20k of a Cannibals of Velen AU started and might never finish but I love it a lot:

Real Bros of Crookback Bog

Cirque du Cannibalia

Tagging @sassaffrassa @stardatextoday @witch-and-her-witcher @littlestsnicket @lambden aaand whoever else would like to do it! or hasn't done it yet this year!

[heavenknowsffs]

Okay now that i've been to concerts in 4 countries imma rate these bitches

Portugal: 20/10 unmatched energy, everyone sings every song AND the instrumental parts, silent moments are followed by chants (usually football chants like olé olé olé or esta merda é que é boa but anything goes), phone flash or lighters on during ballads, ppl hugging each other to sing without knowing the other person, pre-show hangouts, the concert cannot end without everyone asking for an encore, if you want to listen to the band you might not be able to because the crowd is so loud 💕💕 (like twenty one pilots did the whole thing "i say this and you go yeah yeah yeah" and we did so loudly (the 20k capacity venue was not even full) that he was like oh wow i can't even ask for you to do it louder damn i wasn't even ready do it again), there are hang outs after show at the venue or a nearby bar when possible, everyone is hyped up as if they're a kid going to disneyland. Oof i cannot express the thrill, the beauty, the joy, the absolute happiness, i literally cried at my 1st metallica show just from everyone singing ecstasy of gold so so beautiful

UK: 6/10 people sang some songs and there were a few girls super hyped up but the second the concert ended everyone started leaving, the band was barely even out? The band did an encore and half the venue was empty already 🫠 no post show things, just leave :( beer is too expensive (but this also applies in portugal), venue floor was not leveled which was cool because everyone could see the stage no matter where you were (but it was hard on the feet)

Italy: 7/10 chants calling for the band, they only sang the italian songs?, barely anyone was moving or jumping, there was so much free space in the arena it was weird, no one drank??? Only water and like brother the water is almost the same price as beer, overall a good show i enjoyed it but i sang more than everyone around me and i'm not italian (i sang the italian songs too), no post show shenanigans :(, they asked for one more song

Spain: 8/10 everyone was hyped up in the arena part, singing and jumping a lot, they sang most songs (it was a rammstein concert so this is hard as they're all in german 😅), the band cruised on floated boats and a song was playing but no one was singing, just screaming , most people (in the stands at least) were pretty drunk pre-show hangouts with the band's songs playing in a nearby bar/outside, no post-show hangout

And that's it babes hopefully i can go to other countries and rate them 🫰🏼🤞🏼

[melit0n]

Give me five whole minutes.

Credits: Me

[arianaofimladris]

Pyrkon is over, time to go back to normal life.

I haven't gone there in the past few years and therefore I was a bit like a child in a candy store. I think the break was refreshing and also my perspective changed.

But one thing did not change. The atmosphere. I despise crowds, it gets too loud too soon, too many people drink or smoke on most of the public events, or there is simply too stuffy for me.

Not there. It doesn't matter that this was not my tiny Tolkien convent with a hundred people I know, but a huge event with thousands of people. The atmosphere was exactly the same. The level of general friendliness and openness is mind blowing. No risk of some half drunk guys shouting after a girl in half-naked costume or after a guy dressed up as an anime girl character (no idea how they are called, manga and anime are not my areas). I guess I could leave my bag in the queue and jump off to toilet and no one would take anything while I was gone. I usually clutch my bag quite paranoidly in any crowded place. I guess I still did that subconsciously, but without constant thinking about it.

Safe about sums it up. Yeah, there was some bag checking by the entrance, but I think they only looked for smuggled beer or other alcohol. I could have had anything in my bag or in my water bottle (I did have a Victorinox knife I always carry with me). I also had a sword on my back and a dagger by my belt. I expected someone would check if they weren't sharp. No one did. There is a level of trust in this kind of group of people, perhaps also along with the fact that it's Poland and we are not used to having some kind of terrorist threat. I deeply hope it stays that way.

I came back home on Saturday in a crowded night bus that was singing shanties. Much nicer experience than returning home with drunk people from clubs.

Another thing was the organisation. I don't know how this event looked in the last few years. Last time I went,, there were about 20k people participating and I felt it was growing too big for me. Last year, from what I checked, it was 55k. Not sure how many people came this year, but I feel like the organisators figured out how to make it all work. They did wonderful job.

I had great time, I spent three days as Yennefer and Ciri and gosh, it was worth every single detail I made, every hour I spent doing things I don't need in everyday life. Can't wait for the next one.

[edenfrompluto]

Can I just talk about this fanfic for a second. It's a Magnus Archive fanfic called 100 seconds to midnight by starspangledbread and I whole heartily adore it. The praises I could give this fanfic are beyond human words and if I were to word them we would be here for a billion fuckin years.

Now I usually don't read fanfics longer than 20k words because I have a reasonably short attention span but this fic is 100k and I read in within a day because it's all I could focus on.

As one of the rare Extinction aligned people put here, I adore Extinction!Jon. I really think the Extinction should have got more coverage in TMA but I understand why it didn't. I actually have a pretty good MagnusProtocol!Extinction theory going on my tiktok (It's called edenfrompluto. Shameless plug).

The way Martin and Jon's relationship is written in this fanfic made me kick my feet in the air with happiness and adding Aromantic QPR Gerry into the relationship made my little AroAce-Spec brain cement this fic as a top favourite TMA fic.

They are so unserious and I genuinely laughed multiple times when reading this fic. Everything from Gerry's Grifters Bone tshirt to Martin and Jon making the apartment look as suspicious as possible to setting places on fire (I won't say spoilers because I deeply encourage you go read the fanfic for yourself but Martin's pyromania is hilarious.).

The soft Martin x Jon moments were adorable and the ending broke me in so many ways (However I was there while the sequel was updating and I loved it just as much. OP writes a lot of Extinction!Jon fics and I will link them all below because i adore them all whole heartedly. (Also happy Daisy in the sequel made my heart churn. I'm so so acab but there is a special place in my heart for Jon&Daisy friendship)

Again, I could write so much more about this fanfic and sing it's praises for weeks but this post is already getting very long considering all I do on tumblr is mass reblog my hyper fixations. Basically, I would actively sell my soul, go through 9 circles of hell and get back with my deeply concerning ex best friend again just to re-experience the experience of reading this series for the first time again.

READ THIS FANFIC I BEG U!!

Pleaseeee the entire thing is so unhinged <333

{Links!!} ♡:

Countdown to extinction:

100 seconds to midnight (This is the main fic I am talking about in this post)

Accidental and intentional cat acquisition (Side plot where they get a wet cat called the Commodore. I adore them.)

Anthropocene (this is the sequel to 100 seconds to midnight and I violently sobbed (happy and sad). Yes I genuinely cried I am not joking)

Other Extinction!Jon fics by the same author:

Devotion from the Future (this one has Mike Crew in it and as someone whose secondary alignment is Vast, I love him dearly. "I'm not a spy, I'm hiding from the police" “Fair enough, I’m wanted in six countries.”. MORE ARSON. Extinction!jon is the chaos I need in my life honestly. He just wants to see the world burn and I love it. (Poor tim at the end of this fic btw)

memes from my fic with no context

[wetladss]

Day 19 - Holy Toledo

We woke up and left Madrid and went to Toledo. Was known as a city where multiple cultures got along back in the day when there where very few if any like it. Jews, Christians and Muslim. So there was a cool combination of old architecture around. The church was really cool and speccy. Then headed off and drove for ages towards the coast. We went to Valencia which was the first coastal town. We had a swim but it wasn’t too exciting so then headed along the coast to Peñíscola. This was an awesome coastal town with a castle on the peninsula. We found a nice camp spot on the coastline over looking the water and relaxed.

Day 20 - Barcelona

We left Peniscola early to get to Barcelona. Along the drive we saw a few castles along the hills and the biggest warehouses I had ever seen. Huge porcelain production factory which was massive. There was also a incredible amount of orange trees all along that coastline. We arrived in Barcelona and had book a camp ground 40mins outside of the city by train. It was nice area as we could wash our clothes, shower and they also had a pool and day chairs which could be used. Pretty good little area that over looks the ocean. We headed into the CBD and we looked at Gaudi architecture works in the city which where pretty cool to see as it is very unique and fun. We saw the Sagrada Famila which was pretty epic as it has been under construction since the late 1800s and you could see the evolution of design and style on the building. We had some cheap sangria and then had a delicious pasta meal for dinner where you build your own dish by choosing the pasta type, sauce and add ons. Had pumpkin and caramelised onion ravioli in a beacon carbonara sauce. Thalz had Pesto gnocchi with pesto which was really nice but I choose better this time around. We walked around a bit and headed back to the camp site after walking along the waterfront.

Day 21

We left the car at the campgrounds parking area as it was pretty cheap and we could use there services when we came back. The next two night we book to be in the city. We headed in and got our accommodation. We headed to a gig a little bit out of the CBD which felt like a bit of a gamble but ended up being awesome. Was in a cool mansion at the top of the hill behind the Barcelona city. Was setup with a Bar, Africans food. A few artists trying to sell there work and then a cool three piece band who played some great music. Meet some people there who recommend another gig later that day and we headed off to go see that. The other on was a block party which had really good sound and the live band was amazing. There was a conductor leading them which was interesting to see as it was seven piece band jamming out. They had some guest artist come up and sing. One French girl who had amazing vocals. Then a Spanish rapper who brought great energy. Couldn’t understand any of it but it was wicked to see and hear. After this we got my first pizza on the trip which was sold by the slice and it was huge. Was delicious, probably better than any tas pizza I had eaten. Great base and simple yet delicious toppings. It was the start of daily pizza eating while in Barcelona form this joint. After the big day and steadily doing 20k steps a day we crashed.

Day 22

We found the best breakfast. Maxi Americano and Birchy Musli. Consisted off delicious yoghurt musli. The American was pancakes with maple syrup. 4 scrambled eggs. A heap of beacon. Then potatoes, sausages. Huge feed which was delicious. We headed into the city to go to a optical illusion museum called Paradox. This was pretty funny and had a great time in there which will be seen in the piccies. Afterwards we walked along the water front and checked out the city park which was really busy and a beautiful park. Got some more pizza slices again which where delicious. Then walked up to the top of the hill that over looks the port of Barcelona. There is the old garrison/ port defence at the top and has huge canons for ships and some anti air canons. Afterwards we watch the sunset over the city from a view on the hill and then headed back to the accommodation to get our last sleep in accommodation with a bathroom and shower again.

Day 23

We packed up and left the accomodation and left our bags there to explore the city some more. Had the American maxi again then walked around aimlessly. Grab a while pizza and headed back to the campground to grab the car. We had a swim and relax on the day bed. Then headed back into the city as we where boarding the night ferry off to Mallorca.

[jenthehumanist]

I should have let people invest in my future

I wanted to be a singer. I was also a songwriter. I was in bands, sang, wrote. Got some stuff published. But - I tried to bootstrap my career and I was just thinking what a horrible mistake that was. I failed to get traction and moved on to what I do now.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with my life and how it turned out. Super duper content. Still sing for myself. Enjoy my art. Hubby likes it when I sing. Makes him happy. My son is a singer too. That makes me happy. But ... I should have let people invest in my career. There were various parts of my life where people offered and I turned them down. I didn't want to be beholden to anyone. I didn't want to lose control of my work. The result - no one listened to my work.

I was listening to Robbie Williams on Pandora and all the other artists that pop up on the algorithm. And I realized - that sound - requires a LOT of money. I could have had that. I could have made it a career. But I chose to bootstrap. I should have let people invest in my future. There were and still are people who believe in me. But ... I didn't ever get the reach I should have or could have.

Nowadays. My biggest regret is not getting backing to really promote how to stop bullying using behavioral science. It could change a lot of lives and make the world a better place. I could use partners to help promote it. But - once again - I bootstrapped it myself. I did give away over 20k copies of the book. And I've been told I've saved a few lives. But it's not nearly the reach I wish I could have had.

If you are an artist. And someone wants to financially support your work. Even if that means giving them a piece of the pie - allow people to invest in you and support you and market you. Let people invest in your future.

[f0point5]

not trying to justify but i believe that there are actually slurs like the f slur used on a daily basis in the UK (not sure anywhere else) i’m pretty sure because it’s another word for cigarette???

Is this about Lando talking about the life bans?

I mean, yes, that slur in the uk does also mean cigarette but I don’t think incidents where that language is used and getting reported are down to miscommunication.

I think in the UK (and other places but I’m saying UK bc it was specifically a British driver talking about this) a lot of unacceptable behaviour is normalised in a sporting concept. Hooliganism, offensive/aggressive behaviour, booing, etc., gets swept under the rug because “passion”, “atmosphere”, and “alcohol”. The same way a lot of football chants are racist/offensive but it’s fine when 20k people are singing it because it’s “part of the culture”. At some point people have to just…not by c*nts.

Sorry that was a tangent. Yes f*g does mean cigarette here lol