#even though it's one of my favorite colors

[cherryxbooo]

omg i love your mason fic, the angst one. please write more angst i love your writings!!

Lost me forever

Summary: You thought you had finally found 'the one' and that you were the first choice all along, but that was until the truth finally came to light.

Note: Thank you so much lovely! As for the angst request, your wish is my command! I chose to write this for Mason since I found it fitting. Hope you enjoy it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: Angst

Loving Mason Mount felt like the easiest thing in the world.

It was effortless, like breathing, like waking up to golden sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming my skin before his arms ever had the chance.

From the moment we found our way to each other, it felt like the universe had been waiting for it to happen.

Like everything before him had been grayscale, and he was the color I’d been missing.

He made life feel lighter, and softer. It wasn’t just the grand moments, it was the little things.

Like the way his fingers would find mine beneath restaurant tables, absently tracing patterns against my palm as he listened to me talk.

Or how he would pull me back into bed on Sunday mornings, refusing to let me go,

his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Five more minutes, baby. Just five more.”

And we both knew it would never be just five.

It was the way he’d insist on carrying my books when he met me outside my lectures, even though I told him I could handle it.

“I know you can, but I like taking care of you,” he’d say, pressing a kiss to my temple before reaching for my bag anyway.

Late-night drives with the windows down, my feet propped up on the dashboard as he glanced over at me, grinning like I was his favorite sight in the world.

“You know I love you, right?” he'd say out of nowhere, his voice soft but certain.

And every time, my heart would stumble over itself as I whispered back,

“Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

The way he’d tuck me into his chest on the couch, his fingers running lazily through my hair as we half-watched a movie, more focused on each other than whatever was playing.

Or how he’d tease me when I got grumpy, pressing exaggerated kisses all over my face until I was laughing, pushing him away only for him to pull me right back.

He made me feel adored. Cherished.

Like I was his entire world.

And for a while, I truly believed he loved me just as much as I loved him.

But I didn’t realize that, all along, he was still orbiting around someone else.

The change was subtle at first. So subtle that I almost convinced myself it wasn’t happening.

At first, it was little things.

Mason would forget to text me back, not just for a few minutes, but for hours.

I’d send him something funny, something I knew would’ve made him laugh before, and the read receipt would linger, unanswered.

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s just tired. I made excuses, brushing it off like it wasn’t the start of something unraveling.

Then he started canceling plans last minute.

"Sorry, something came up. Training ran late. I’m exhausted, let’s do tomorrow?"

Tomorrow would turn into the next day, then the next, until suddenly, I realized I was the only one trying to reschedule.

Our deep, intimate conversations, the ones where we’d stay up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing, where he’d tell me about his childhood dreams, his fears, the things he never admitted to anyone else, turned into empty small talk.

"How was your day? Did you eat?"

His words felt distant, mechanical, like he was just going through the motions.

I tried to ignore the way his responses lacked warmth, the way he barely asked about me anymore.

And when we were together, it felt like he wasn’t really there.

He’d sit next to me on the couch, but his body was tense, like he was waiting for an excuse to leave.

He’d hold my hand, but it didn’t feel the same, his grip wasn’t as firm, as reassuring.

His kisses were quick, and absentminded, like they were more of a habit than something he wanted to do.

The worst part? He stopped looking at me like he used to.

The light in his eyes, the way they used to soften when they met mine, it was gone.

Now, when I caught him staring, it felt like he was searching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself it was stress, that he was overwhelmed with training, with matches, with the constant pressure to perform.

It has nothing to do with me. I repeated it like a mantra, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

But deep down, I felt it.

The distance. The absence of his warmth.

The quiet way he was slipping away from me, little by little, day by day.

Then came the late nights.

I’d wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should’ve been.

At first, I thought maybe he couldn’t sleep, maybe he was just restless.

But then I heard it. The hushed whispers from the other room, the way his voice softened in a way it never did with me anymore.

The first time, I told myself I was imagining things.

The second time, I told myself it was probably a teammate.

The third time, I stopped lying to myself.

Because when I walked in too quickly, when I caught him sitting on the edge of the couch, phone pressed to his ear, he snapped his head up so fast it was like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

His expression shifted, just for a second, before he forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him like I always had.

But my heart was screaming at me. Telling me something was wrong.

I just didn’t want to ask.

Because I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

The night everything fell apart,

I was at Mason’s place, curled up on his couch, wrapped in the blanket he always draped over my shoulders whenever I got cold.

It smelled like him, like the faint traces of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably him, something that once made me feel safe.

I had been waiting for him to get back from training, my phone resting loosely in my hand as I scrolled absentmindedly, not really paying attention to anything on the screen.

The TV hummed softly in the background, playing an episode of a show we had started together but never finished.

He used to insist on waiting for me before watching the next one. Lately, he didn’t wait anymore.

I tried not to think about it too much.

I tried not to think about any of it too much.

The unanswered texts. The canceled plans.

The way his kisses felt like muscle memory instead of something he wanted.

I had spent weeks, months, convincing myself that this was just a rough patch.

That things would go back to normal once the season settled, once the stress faded, once he had time to breathe.

That we would go back to normal.

I wasn’t looking for answers that night.

I wasn’t searching for proof that something was wrong.

But sometimes, the truth doesn’t wait for you to be ready.

Sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it.

And that night, it found me in the form of an unexpected message on Mason’s laptop.

The screen lit up suddenly, casting a soft glow over the coffee table. At first, I barely noticed.

I was too lost in my own head, too focused on distracting myself from the gnawing ache in my chest.

I wasn’t the kind of person to snoop. I had never needed to be.

I trusted Mason.

Or at least, I thought I did.

But then, my eyes flickered to the name at the top of the message.

And my heart stopped.

Her name.

His ex Charlotte.

I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.

It was just a name. Just a simple notification.

And yet, it felt like the ground beneath me had shifted.

There was no reason for them to be talking. No good reason, at least.

Mason never spoke about her. He had told me, once, that their story was over.

That I was the only one he saw a future with. That she was a part of his past, and that’s where she would stay.

I wanted to believe him. I had believed him.

So then why was she here, on his screen, reaching out like she had never really left?

For a moment, I hesitated.

I wanted to look away, to pretend I hadn’t seen it, to act like it was just some meaningless message.

That would be easier, wouldn’t it? I could go back to the way things were, smiling through the doubt, pushing aside the way he had been slipping away from me piece by piece.

But then I saw the preview of the message.

Just a few words.

But they were enough to send ice through my veins.

I miss you.

My hands shook as I reached for the laptop.

My heart pounded against my ribs, screaming at me, begging me to stop.

But I couldn’t.

I clicked on the message.

Then another. And another.

And with every message I read, my world crumbled around me.

It wasn’t just casual conversation.

It wasn’t Hey, how have you been? or Hope you're doing well.

It was confessions whispered in the dead of night.

It was I think about you all the time.

It was I miss everything about you.

It was Being with her doesn’t feel the same.

It was I still love you.

The air rushed from my lungs.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Waiting, praying, for the words to change.

For my eyes to be playing tricks on me.

But they didn’t change.

They sat there, staring back at me like undeniable proof that I had been living in a lie.

Every moment Mason and I had shared, every soft I love you, every late-night conversation, every time he had pulled me close and promised me forever, it had all been meaningless.

I had just been something to fill the space she left behind.

A placeholder.

A distraction.

A way for him to forget the girl he really wanted.

And the worst part?

I never even saw it coming.

I had been so sure of him. So sure of us.

I had loved him with everything I had, blind to the fact that his heart had never really been mine to begin with.

Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Not until I heard the sound of keys jingling at the door.

Mason was home.

And I had a choice to make.

Pretend I hadn’t seen anything, pretend I hadn’t fallen apart while reading his betrayal in black and white.

Or look him in the eye and ask the question I already knew the answer to.

When Mason walked through the door, tired and unsuspecting, his duffel bag slung lazily over his shoulder, I felt my entire body lock up.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his shirt sticking slightly to his skin from the shower he took after training, and for a fleeting second,

I saw the version of him I used to love, the boy who used to make me feel like the center of his world.

But that version of Mason didn’t exist anymore.

He didn’t know it yet, but I had seen everything.

His lips parted slightly when his eyes landed on me, confusion flickering across his face as he took in my stiff posture, the way my arms were crossed tightly over my chest like they were the only thing keeping me together.

His gaze shifted to the coffee table, to where his laptop sat open, the screen still glowing.

He didn’t know yet, but he would.

The air in the room shifted.

"Hey, love." His voice was soft, familiar, too familiar.

Like he hadn’t just shattered me beyond repair.

I didn’t respond.

I reached for the laptop, my movements slow, deliberate, my fingers curling around the edges before I threw it onto the table between us.

The loud smack echoed in the silent apartment.

Mason flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “What the hell—”

"Tell me the truth." My voice trembled, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

His eyes darted between mine, searching, confused. “Y/n, what—”

I lifted a hand and pointed at the screen, my entire body trembling with the weight of what I had just discovered.

"Don’t. Just tell me the truth."

His eyes flickered down.

And in that moment, I saw everything.

The way his entire body tensed.

The way his face lost its color, his jaw tightening as his throat bobbed.

The way his fingers twitched at his sides, his breathing suddenly uneven.

He didn’t have to say anything.

I already knew.

But I wanted him to say it.

I wanted him to look me in the eye and own what he had done.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, his lips pressing together as if he was trying to find the right words.

"It’s not what you think—"

A bitter laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it.

I felt something inside me snap.

"Not what I think?" I repeated, my voice rising, the disbelief dripping from every syllable.

I jabbed a finger toward the screen, toward her name, toward the messages that had destroyed me.

“So you didn’t tell her you missed her? You didn’t tell her being with me wasn’t the same? You didn’t tell her you still love her?”

Mason inhaled sharply, his lips parting like he wanted to deny it,

God, I wanted him to deny it, but no words came.

His silence was louder than any excuse he could’ve made.

My throat tightened, the lump there threatening to choke me, but I refused to let him see me break.

I had already given him too much of me. I wouldn’t give him this too.

"Was I ever anything more than a rebound to you?" I whispered.

His face crumbled.

"Y/n—"

"Answer me!" I snapped, my voice cracking.

His lips pressed into a thin line. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

And then, hesitation.

Just a second. Just the briefest pause.

But that was all I needed.

I let out a sharp breath, my hands trembling as I wiped at my eyes, willing the tears away.

"I hope she was worth it, Mason." The words felt like acid on my tongue.

I turned away, grabbing my bag from the couch with numb fingers, my entire body screaming at me to run, run, run.

"Y/n, wait—" His voice cracked.

I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, not rough, not forceful, just desperate.

For the first time, I looked at him, really looked at him.

His face was drawn, his eyes wide, pleading.

His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear.

"Please." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

"You don’t get to do that," I said, my voice barely steady.

I yanked my wrist free, stepping back.

"You don’t get to break me and then ask me to stay."

Mason exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, through his hair, looking more panicked now.

“I never meant—” He cut himself off like the words physically hurt to say.

I shook my head. “You never meant for me to find out.”

Silence.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t fight for me.

Because he knew.

He knew there was nothing left to fight for.

I felt a sob clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I refused to break in front of him.

I took a shaky step back. Then another.

"Goodbye, Mason."

And then I turned.

I walked to the door, my steps unsteady, my hands trembling as I reached for the handle.

"Y/n." My name was a whisper, a plea.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t look back.

And Mason didn’t stop me.

Because he knew, he had already lost me. Lost me forever.

Mason stood there,

This is what he wanted right?

Now he could go back to Charlotte without having to hide it.

But if this was what he wanted, why did he feel so guilty? Why does it feel like he has lost something big? Why was he feeling... regret?

Mason shrugged off those feelings before muttering "She was just a rebound, this is what I wanted right?"

And that was all it took for him to move on.

Well at least for now.

Mason got back together with his ex two weeks later.

At first, it felt right.

She was familiar. She was comfortable. She was the girl he had spent so long missing, the one who had haunted his thoughts even when he was with Y/n.

For a brief moment, he convinced himself he had made the right choice.

But then, the cracks started to show.

The first time he noticed it was during dinner.

They sat across from each other at a high-end restaurant she had insisted on, a place where the food was overpriced and the lighting dim enough to make everything look perfect for Instagram.

Mason had been talking about his match earlier that day, how exhausted he was, how he’d nearly scored but missed by inches.

She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"That’s nice, babe," she murmured, her perfectly manicured fingers typing away.

He stared at her, waiting, expecting her to say more.

She didn’t.

Instead, she snapped a photo of their untouched plates, adjusted the lighting, and posted it with a caption that had nothing to do with him.

That was just the beginning.

The thoughtful gestures, the ones Y/n had done so naturally, were gone.

There were no lazy Sunday mornings where she curled into his chest, tracing mindless patterns on his skin.

No soft kisses just because.

No remembering how he liked his tea or sneaking his favorite snacks into the fridge after a long day.

Charlotte wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t awful. She was just… absent.

It was clear she loved the idea of him, the status, the lifestyle, the way people looked at them when they walked into a room together.

But him? The man behind the footballer, the one with worries and insecurities, the one who needed comfort just as much as anyone else?

She didn’t see him.

And suddenly, Mason realized, he had been chasing a ghost.

The woman he had truly loved, the one who had memorized every detail about him, who had supported him through every loss, who had loved him for the man and not the player, was gone.

Y/n had been that woman.

His Y/n.

And he had thrown her away like she was nothing.

One night, after another meaningless fight, this time over why he wasn’t posting her on social media enough, he sat alone in his apartment, scrolling through his camera roll.

The pictures of Y/n were still there.

Her smile, so genuine.

The way she looked at him like he was her entire world.

The little videos she had taken when he wasn’t paying attention, him cooking, him laughing at something dumb, him asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist like he never wanted to let go.

He had been so loved.

And he had destroyed it.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

Y/n had vanished from his life.

Blocked his number. Deleted their pictures. Disappeared without a trace.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed time.

That eventually, she’d cool down, pick up one of his calls, and answer one of his texts.

She never did.

He tried her best friend.

"She doesn’t want anything to do with you."

He tried her family.

"Mason, you hurt her. Let her go."

Her colleagues, her neighbors, nobody would tell him where she was.

And then, one day, when he came to her house once again he heard one of her neighbors call out for him.

"You should stop trying son. Didn't you hear? She left the country."

His stomach dropped.

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she moved. Took some big job offer or something. Left everything behind."

Mason’s heart pounded in his chest.

She had left.

His Y/n had left.

Started fresh. Moved somewhere new. Somewhere he could never reach her.

And for the first time in his life, Mason Mount, who had always been able to fix his mistakes, to win people back with a smile or an apology, knew he had lost her forever.

And this time, there was no getting her back.

That night, I made my decision.

I sat in my apartment, staring at the email that had been sitting in my inbox for days.

A job offer.

My dream job. The one I had turned down for him.

For so long, I had let my love for Mason dictate my every move.

I had stayed when I should have gone, let him convince me that we were enough, that we could make a future together.

I had put his dreams, his career, his needs first, and let mine slip into the background.

But that future didn’t exist anymore.

And now? I had nothing left to lose.

So, I took a deep breath, wiped away the last of my tears, tears that had been falling for weeks now, and clicked accept.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of packing, selling off things I didn’t need, and coming to terms with the fact that I was leaving the place that had once felt like home.

It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

"Are you sure about this?" my best friend asked, standing in the middle of my now half-empty apartment.

I exhaled slowly, trying to hold it together.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And I meant it.

The morning of my flight, I did one last thing before leaving.

I blocked Mason. Everywhere.

His number. His Instagram. His Twitter. His email.

I erased him the way he had erased me.

And then I left.

As the plane took off and the city shrank beneath me, I finally felt it. The weight lifting from my chest.

The space inside me that had been filled with doubt, uncertainty, and longing, is now empty but... free.

A new country. A new life. A fresh start.

No more waiting for someone to choose me.

This time, I was choosing myself.

And Mason?

He was just a chapter in a book I had already finished reading.

Mason thought he had made the right choice.

He thought that getting back with his ex would fill the emptiness he felt after losing Y/n, but all it did was magnify the hollowness in his chest.

It was then, in the quiet moments of the night when he lay awake in his bed, that it hit him.

Y/n had been the one.

She had been the one who truly understood him.

The one who saw the person behind the jersey, behind the fame, behind the image.

She was the one who had loved him for him, not for the trophies or the spotlight.

And he had thrown it all away.

He had thrown her away.

But now, it was too late.

The more he tried to convince himself that things were fine, the more he realized that nothing felt right.

His ex wasn’t the person he needed.

And he was so damn lonely.

Training started slipping. He missed passes, lost focus, and the frustration was unbearable.

His coach started noticing, and his teammates were starting to get concerned.

He couldn’t even summon the motivation to push himself. Every match felt pointless, every goal out of reach.

He couldn’t concentrate. His heart wasn’t in it anymore.

His head wasn’t in it. His life wasn’t in it.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Y/n.

The way she would smile at him after a tough day, the way her laugh would fill the room like music.

The way she would hold him close when he was stressed or frustrated, as if just being near her was enough to make everything better.

The way she’d remember the smallest details about him, how she would surprise him with his favorite snacks or take care of him when he was sick.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, he would never have it again.

One night, after yet another argument with his ex, something about him not being “present enough”

Mason sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone.

He had tried calling Y/n again. She didn’t answer.

Of course, she wasn't going to answer.

She had blocked him everywhere, but every day he hoped that for some magical reason, she would've unblocked him everywhere.

He checked his messages, hoping, praying, that maybe, just maybe, she would reach out. But nothing.

It was as if she had vanished from his life completely.

And that’s when the weight of it all crashed down.

He realized that he had let her slip through his fingers, and now, she was gone.

For good.

Days blurred together as Mason sank deeper into his depression. His training was a mess.

His performance on the field was getting worse by the day.

His teammates were starting to notice his lack of focus and his erratic behavior. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

And then, it hit him like a slap in the face.

It was Y/n all along, not Charlotte. Y/n was his girl and not that fame-sucking ex of his.

Mason had spent so long taking her love for granted, thinking it would always be there, thinking he could come back when it suited him.

But now? Now he realized the truth: She had been the love of his life.

And he had lost her.

Forever.

He spent days in his apartment, alone with his thoughts, battling the crushing weight of regret.

He would never see her smile again, never hear her voice telling him that everything would be okay.

He had let the one person who truly loved him slip away because he couldn’t appreciate her until it was too late.

And in the silence of his empty apartment, with nothing but his thoughts and his guilt to keep him company,

Mason finally understood what he had lost.

Y/n.

The girl he had taken for granted. The one who had loved him without hesitation.

The one he would never get back.

The end

[nxwtonsxngster]

let’s try :)

last song: dancing through life on repeat (can you feel the wicked obsession)

last book: currently reading the cloisters by katy hays

last show: finally finished heartstopper!

last movie: rewatched soul :)

last thing i looked up: car models,,, even though i can’t afford them

favorite color: yelloooow 💛

sweet/spicy/savory: savory all the way!

a beautiful relationship in my life: love my little queer family chat with @scorchedmazes and @directionerplusgleek <3

current obsession: that one comfy chair in my town library where i spend hours writing vinge

looking forward to: finally publishing that vinge fic!! also living alone again, and going back to the US one day

last animal encounter: save for my cats, scotland cows!

no tag, feel free to follow up! 💕

Tagged by @talshiargirlfriend and @justhere4thevibez for this one! 😘😘

Last song: Adore by Trey Best (JEFF I❤️U)

Last book: Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery by Jenny Colgan. I usually like her books but this one had lots of characters refusing to communicate and/or stand up for themselves and it got frustrating.

Last show: Murder, She Wrote. Yes, again. It’s my comfort show and I’ve had quite a month.

Last movie: Star Trek: Section 31. I, um, I fell asleep.

Last thing I looked up: HelloFresh meal delivery. Trying to see the prices *before* signing up, and they really don’t want me to.

Favorite color: idk it changes all the time honestly. Today it’s forest green.

Spicy / sweet / savory: sweet first, then savory. Never spicy!

A beautiful relationship in my life right now: a few friends in the town I moved away from six years ago, who are refusing to lose touch with me and kindly invite me to their weddings. I love them all so much.

Current obsession: I don’t think I actually have one right now. I’m feeling kind of blah and apathetic about most things lately, except the aforementioned weddings. (And yes I joke a lot about “needing to up my meds” but I actually did talk to my doctor and he did adjust my medications. No shame in getting help, my loves. No shame at all.)

Looking forward to: feeling better.

Last animal encountered: my big fat bitey kitty, who is lucky he’s so cute because he can be a bastard sometimes!

No-pressure tags:

@pearlypairings (I haven’t tagged you in one of these for awhile!) @chornayadrakoshig @potatoesenpaii @the-unforgivenn @jo-harrington and anyone else who wants to 😉

[horrormogai]

Happy Black History Month !!

[PT :: Happy Black History Month]

So, to not fancify things, shit's been fucking weird and rough since the idiot and chief came back into power. Especially for the POC creators in our community. So here, we want to give a shout out to several black creators in our community who make beautiful labels and flags in celebration of this month!

───────

BIPOC Coiners ::

[PT :: BIPOC Coiners]

⛧ @vampitsm - An amazing coiner and creator, makes terms based around blackness as well as horror and vampire themes! Also just generally an awesome dude. ⛧ @psychsilk - Coiner who creates genuinely gorgeous flags, its understanding of color theory is just *chefs kiss* ⛧ @xyrthemost - Makes lovely terms, beautiful flags, and is a genuine lovely person to have in the community! ⛧ @mogaimagic - A blog I have been following for some time shey have been made some genuinely gorgeous flags and terms and sheir blog theme is so cute! Reminds me of magical girls :D ⛧ @edwardallenpoe - Has made the amazing black and intersex labels, hys Intersex Stud flag is one of my favorite intersex flags (I don't use it, I just think it's pretty) ⛧@clowncaraz-journal - Made the gorgeous flag term Soul that I think everyone should look at personally. I totally misread // didn't read well enough and that's totally on me, they did not create the term, simply posted it for others. Still a lovely creator to check out <3 The original coiner is pink parthenon on tiktok ⛧ @luniarii - Made the adorable Black Girlkisser flag and makes a lot of beautiful flags based around being sapphic! ⛧ @knwight - A new blog that makes genuinely really gorgeous flags, the kind of designs you'd love a sticker of. ⛧ @pixxiesticksys - A coiner who creates a lot of amazing labels targeted towards atypical dysphoria and reclaiming the slur "mutt"! ⛧ @silverrhythm - A new MOGAI blog to give support! The pokemon theme has my autism eyes staring at their blog <3 ⛧ @the-astropaws - A blog ran by two mods, one black and the other non-black POC. Makes some of the prettiest and loveliest terms <3

───────

BIPOC Archivers ::

[PT :: BIPOC Archivers]

⛧ @blkmogai - An archive for black and POC terms and creators! Run by @/vampitsm and @abandonedknowledge

───────

Notes ::

[PT :: Notes]

This post is not about me, even though I'm the one making it, the only interaction I care about is the attention given to the users I have listed. I am a simple white boy from Detroit. I do not want you to listen to my voice, I want you to follow my finger as I point to the voices you should be listening to. Along with that, you may notice not many users are listed. I have noticed as well, and I feel that says something about this community. Something that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I am not blind, I have seen how our community treats POC and it is honestly pretty damn abhorrent. Many users speak over POC voices or simply don't take it seriously. Rather than actively being anti-racist, a lot of people just put shit like "racists DNI" in their rentry's or carrd or anything and call it good. There is no active fight against racism here, simply a passive acceptance whenever it rears its head. If you reblog this post, if you interact with this or me in anyway, I want you to take the time to follow any of the coiners I've listed. POC deserve a space here too. You need to be more than just not racist, you need to be actively anti-racist. If you're a black MOGAI creator of any kind, please promo yourselves in the replies. I will do my best to add anyone who does to this list.

[starzzytisms]

I skipped my nap today to finish writing this because, if the title isn't already claimed, I am the resident Solula shipper.

Now, enjoy my horrid melatonin writing where I completely change any lore that I cannot cope with because I am deranged.

....

Read it.

It had been a long week, a long month even, but finally, Solar felt like he could breathe. He got Jack back. Jack was home and safe now, and Solar was never going to let his baby go again.

So, here they sat, peacefully on the downstairs couch, Solar softly rubbing behind Jacks head as the smaller fiddled with the TV remote. Jack flipped between at least three different streaming platforms before deciding on Disney+ and turning on Bluey, a show Dazzle introduced him to, that he then introduced his dad to.

When the two first started watching it together, Solar hadn't expected for it to grow on him, but here he was, watching the "Rain" episode, smiling softly as he imagined playing in the rain with Jack the way Chili did with Bluey. Next time it rains, he thought...

"Chili is my favorite," Nebula piped up out of nowhere, startling Solar. She always showed up when he least expected it.

"Mother!" Jack chimed in exitedly, jumping from Solar's lap towards Nebula, tightly hugging her. Nebula panicked from a moment at this, but after a moment of hesitation and receiving a soft nod of approval from Solar, she carefully wrapped her arms around Jack as well.

"You kind of scared me again, Nebula," Solar spoke with a lighthearted tone and smile.

"I apologize," Nebula acknowledged in her usual near-monotone voice. "I'm still trying to figure out how to make a non-startling appearance," she continued, now sitting down and releasing her loose hold on Jack as he slipped away to the floor and began pulling out his coloring supplies from under the coffee table.

"It's alright, I don't mind much," Solar reassured, giving Jack a certain dad look that asked "are you okay just coloring while we talk?" to which Jack gave a smile and thumbs up, getting back to picking out a coloring sheet.

So, as night slowly approached, the sun beginning to disappear beyond the horizon, Nebula and Solar rambled together for at least 30 minutes, sharing different things about space and Earth life and one another's interests, whilst Jack laid on his stomach on the floor, contently kicking his feet and coloring, only interupting once or twice to show Solar and Nebula his finished coloring sheets, though he was definitely tuckering out after the whole day of rescue and reunion.

Jack had been fighting sleep for a while, his hands growing ever-so-slightly slower with each passing moment as he colored, his blinks lengthening per each one. Solar and Nebula had clearly noticed, sharing an amused glance as Jack stubbornly tried to finish one last page. But it was only a few minutes more before his crayon slipped from his fingers, leaving his third coloring sheet of the night only half finished. His breathing evened out, and he was out cold, sprawled across the rug, expression softer than Solar had seen from Jack in a while.

With practiced ease, Solar slid off the couch and carefully scooped Jack up into his arms. The smaller barely stirred, only curling closer against Solar as he was carried upstairs. Nebula followed silently, observing the way Solar moved with such care, making sure Jack wasn’t jostled too much.

Reaching Jack’s room, Solar carefully laid him down in his bed, adjusting the blankets and tucking them around him. Jack groggily reached for his plushies, and Solar made sure all of his favorites were within reach and accounted for. He lingered for a moment, gently adjusting Jacks hat out of his face. Nebula stood in the doorway, watching.

Once the two were back downstairs, they settled onto the couch again. The quiet stretched, seemingly endlessly, between them for a short moment before Nebula finally spoke.

“I am not opposed to it.”

Solar blinked confusedly. “Huh?”

“The… mother thing,” she clarified. “Jack calls me Mother. I do not dislike it.”

Solar exhaled softly, his faceplate forming a small smile, something, in all honesty, Nebula had never seen from him before. “Neither do I.”

Nebula tilted her head slightly, studying him. “What does this mean?”

Solar hesitated, metal fingers tapping idly against his knee. “Well… do you want to be a sort of parental figure to him? Maybe even…” He trailed off, then took a breath, gathering every last possible ounce of his confidence. “I mean… a partner to me?”

Nebula was quiet for a few seconds, her expression unreadable, as per usual. Then, she nodded. “I’d enjoy that. Very thoroughly, actually...”

Solar let out a small chuckle and a sigh of relief, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I would too.”

Nebula shifted slightly before leaning against him, resting her head comfortably on his shoulder. Solar stilled for a second, then, ever so slowly, let his head rest atop hers.

“Who’s your favorite?” Nebula asked suddenly.

Solar raised an eyebrow, lost. “What?”

“Your favorite character,” she elaborated.

Solar let out a quiet laugh. “I like Socks.”

Nebula hummed in understanding. “Good choice.”

Their voices grew softer as the conversation drifted into nothingness, their exhaustion from the long day catching up with them. Before either of them realized it, they had both dozed off right there on the couch, still leaning into each other.

The house was peaceful. Jack was safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Solar felt completely content.

[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

♫ Soko - See You in the Dark

Pull you closer just to feel you breathing, try to memorize the lines // Of your skin and your heart beating, two fragile lives collide // Wanna see you in the darkness when I close my eyes

word count: 2.2k

✰ 𝐜𝐰: brief mention of non-sexual nudity (bathing together)

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo learned to love the rain. It reminded him of the day he met her. 

Now, on this night a few months later, it is pouring again. The weather bureau urged everyone to stay home if they could to avoid getting caught in the monsoon, therefore the antique shop didn’t open its heavy wooden doors and Kuroo’s job at the delivery service called everything off for today as well. It was a blessing in disguise because it meant a rare day off for both of them around the same time. It’s not as if they’re not spending every free minute they got together, but there was something special about having a day off all responsibilities. 

They didn’t get up until noon, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain and Jiji’s soft purrs at their feet (after he woke Kuroo at 5AM for a can of wet food–an unfortunate habit he established with the cat), sharing kisses and secrets in her canopy bed. It was rare for them to sleep alone these days, most of the time they did so only when one of them got sick, and even then they’d often prioritize comfort and shared warmth over not catching the other’s bug. They’ve become inseparable over time and lately Kuroo found himself struggling to remember what his life was like before her. He takes it as a good sign. 

While Kuroo’s apartment was somewhat neat and tidy, paired with the struggle to fill up all the empty space and the high ceilings, hers seemed like an extension of the antique store below them. It’s lived in, an almost sacred space to be invited into. There’s bookshelves up to the ceiling, stacked with heavy and old art books and poetry in languages he doesn’t know, dried flowers in vases and hanging from the walls, a story attached to each. The wooden floor has uneven colors from ornamental carpets that barely get moved around, the sun and time working together to create unique patterns. Withered lines adorn the door frame from a time when her grandmother inhabited this space and carved a mark every time her granddaughter grew an inch or two.

It’s as if he’s discovering a new secret in every corner, like turning a page in his favorite book. 

Jiji rubs against Kuroo’s legs when they’re in the kitchen together, meowing up at him till he puts him on his shoulders while he stirs the pot on the stove. The cat seems to enjoy the view from so high above and Kuroo gets to bask in her soft laughter every time she sees them like this. 

“This cat is manipulating you to no end and you let him,” she huffs with a smile and looks back down at the broken fragments of a plate in front of her on the old kitchen table. Some parts of them are already glued back together, the former cracks now filled and held together by gold. Kuroo never gets tired of watching her work, of fixing things others would’ve thrown out by now. Not her though. Never her. Her hands hold all the patience of the world, tending to the shards as she pours love back into them.

Sometimes Kuroo catches himself thinking that maybe–maybe that’s exactly what she did to him, too. 

The faint rumble of a thunder in the distance causes both of them to look out of the kitchen window. It is only early evening but the sky is pitch black, the storm and rain picking up and rattling against the old windows. Spooked out by the sounds of it, Jiji leaps down from Kuroo’s shoulders and retreats to the safety of his cave underneath the bed, eager to sit this one out. She seems calm though, which rubs off on Kuroo as well. He places a steaming bowl on an empty spot on the table close to her before pulling out a chair for himself, watching how she puts her work aside to pick up the spoon. She pauses as a thought crosses her mind, a small frown on her face.

“Did we remember to bring the laundry inside this time?”, she asks, already halfway up to check. Kuroo reaches for her wrist and gently pulls her back, urging her to sit. He smiles gently, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. 

“Already did that earlier when you were absorbed in puzzling the pieces together,” he reassures her. The heavy laundry basket sits on the stairs connecting their apartments. Kuroo vividly remembers the last time it was pouring and they both ran outside to grab the clothes from the line in the backyard, already too late and getting soaked just as much in return. They sat an hour in his clawfoot bathtub together afterwards, trying to warm up again so they wouldn’t catch a cold. Her laughter was still ringing in his ears when she leaned back against his chest, nestled between his legs with her eyes closed as the hot water engulfed them, his hand splayed across her stomach. He remembers thinking that this might be the closest he ever got to heaven.

The storm outside picks up by the time they’re finished with dinner and the dirty dishes are left to soak in the sink for later. They find themselves huddled together in bed again. All the attempts of coaxing Jiji out from underneath it failed, but he seemed content with knowing they were closeby. He’d get his fair share of cuddles and treats once this passes. 

“You still have gold dust on you,” Kuroo points out and brings one of her hands to his lips, kissing the shimmery fingertips gently. 

“No way,” she protests with a small laugh, her expression softening underneath his caress. She rolls over to her side, head resting against his chest. His heartbeat picks up slightly. “I washed my hands a dozen times.”

“Then I guess you’re just that golden,” he retorts, his arm wrapping around her form and pulling her closer, wanting to feel more of her. He could never get enough of having her like this, her body heat seeping into him, their legs tangled together underneath the covers. 

Another crashing thunder drowns out her reply, and then with one last flicker all light in the apartment dies down. The power went out. This was to be expected. Both of them are quiet for a few seconds before Kuroo presses a kiss to her crown, mumbling “want me to check that for you?” against her hair. Always in fix-it mode, like muscle memory to him.

She shakes her head and only inches closer to him, her hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel his warm skin. Kuroo lets out a quiet hum in return.

“No use in plugging the power back just now,” she mumbles and for a brief second the bedroom is illuminated from the lightning outside. “We’ll let the storm pass first. Plus, I don’t want to let you get up and go right now. Stay with me.”

Her last words seem to be laced with something else; a silent question and pleading. The unspoken desire to let the world spin without them for a while, enjoying these dead hours of the day when it can be just the two of them in perfect unison.

Kuroo tips her chin up with one finger. In the dark he can barely make out the silhouette of her but it doesn’t matter, he has memorized every inch of her with his fingertips alone a long time ago. He catches her lips with his, a gentle kiss exchanged between them, lasting for a few heartbeats.

“You don’t even have to ask”, he mutters against her lips, smiling when she steals another kiss from him. He lets her. She can have them all, all of him, his heart served on a silver platter if she wished for it. It baffles him sometimes, thinking how much of his life has gone by without getting to kiss her, until the sun, the moon and all of the stars set the waves in motion that lead to him finally meeting her. 

When he told her back then that it all felt like a dream, one he’s scared of waking up anytime soon, he meant it. Sometimes it felt too good to be true, the way his life turned upside down only a few months ago. It’s in these moments that she’ll cup his face, not letting go until she covers every inch of it in kisses, one reminder at a time that he, too, deserves nice things. Great things, even. And the most miraculous one was right here in his arms, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and mumbling the sweetest words against his skin while the world outside is coming down. 

Kuroo loves her. 

He hasn’t said it out loud yet, but he feels it with every fiber of his heart and soul. He loves her, more than anything or anyone before. Some days it feels a little too big, a little too overwhelming, quite literally taking his breath away, and then she’ll call out his name and slip her hand into his and it drowns out all these loud thoughts again. She grounds him. She gave home a new meaning. 

There’s this warmth about her that draws him to her like a moth to the flame–and he knows it’s not just him. The way she manages to bring people together in the shop never fails to amaze him, her quiet presence a lighthouse in the dark. He always laughs when she describes herself as some kind of hermit, spending hours alone as she sorts and catalogs whichever box of antiques washes up on her threshold that day. It’s almost as if she doesn’t recognize that she’s the center of this universe she built around herself; the bridge between the dead and the living. The one preserving love, till it’s ready to find a new pair of loving hands, cherishing these otherwise forgotten memories.

Then there’s her quirks, adding even more reasons to the endless list of why he fell in love with her. Whether it’s her grumpy expression whenever she has to do something on the computer (an ancient one in her back office which takes twenty minutes to boot up) or her habit of unprompted infodumping about a specific trinket that caught her attention–Kuroo loved all of it. It’s all part of her.

And while the big words still won’t fall from his lips just yet, he has his way of showing her, leaving no doubts that what he feels for her was true, unadulterated love. It’s in the sound of their shared laughter when she rides behind him on the bike, her arms wrapped around his middle and her face pressed against his broad back. It’s in the warm blanket thrown over her form after carrying her to bed when she fell asleep while reading on his couch. It’s in the kisses he trails down the side of her neck after she pushed a strawberry from the backyard between his lips.

He knows it’s only a matter of time till it feels right to put his feelings into actual words. It’s not like there’s a rush or expectations to do so. They do things in their own time, and right now there is not much to do except waiting for the storm to pass, till the sun brings a new dawn and they’ll pick themselves up again, hands intertwined. 

Kuroo presses a soft kiss to her temple, one hand in her hair, the other on her thigh, keeping her pressed close to him.

“Sleepy much?”, he mumbles with a quiet laugh, feeling her breathing getting more steady and her body melting more into him. It isn’t late yet and it's not that long ago since they crawled out of these sheets earlier, but he doesn’t mind. His girl deserves all the rest she craves. 

“You’re just so warm,” she mutters, her voice drowsy. Her fingertips draw small patterns against his collarbones. “Makes it hard not to doze off. Maybe I’m not so different from Jiji after all.”

This draws another laugh out of Kuroo. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, pulling the blanket up a bit higher to make sure she’s fully wrapped up in it. 

“I’m nothing but a fool for both of you, that’s for sure,” Kuroo agrees with a soft chuckle, his head sinking against hers. The sound of the heavy rain drowns out everything else–his greedy heart, the overthinking, the words on the tip of his tongue. He feels content, safe; like he belongs. Like coming home after being on the run for too long. 

“You know what they say about the fools,” she whispers back without lifting her head. Her fingertips dance across his chest now, until they find his stumbling heart against his ribcage. Her palm comes to rest right above it and in this moment Kuroo feels as if gold is poured in the cracks of his heart as well. Mending it, putting the pieces back together; not like something broken but something that’s worth being tended to with all the gentleness of the world.

“The fools, they’re the lovers and the lonely, knowing everything and nothing about love except that they’re full of it.”

a/n: i love writing Kuroo POV so much and i'm so excited to write the last two chapters to this

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

@stargirllost @boosyboo9206 @wyrcan @weezerbby @nekozaki

@beaniesweets @romantiicaa

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[anthraxx-pology]

Last song: Tomb for Two by Lebanon Hanover

Last book (other than school): History of the World in 100 Objects by Neil MacGregor (I love art history and anthropology, even in my free time)

Last Movie: Cabaret (1972)

Last Game: fuck, I don’t remember. Probably Identity V, but it’s been ages. Currently rewatching playthroughs of Trigger Happy Havoc though

Last Show: One Piece

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: Umami

Relationship: sunken

Favorite color: Olive green and burnt orange

Last google search: “Find what you love and let it kill you” I love that quote (charles bukowski) but I wanted to see the rest of the poem it came from.

I don’t even have enough followers to make a hockey team, so uh, @goshdangronpa @kokorogensou @funishment-time @zombyne @c-side-fish @aparticularbandit @firedemongaming @pekoposting

tag game! ten ppl id like to know better<3 thx 4 the tag @xx-batt3ryac1d-xx !!

last song-alrighty aphrodite by peach pit

last book- (currently reading) the unbearable lightness of being by milan kundera

last movie-miller’s girl

last game-before your eyes

last tv show-adventure time

sweet, spicy, or savory- can i choose sour

relationship-happily married

fav color-red

last google search-when can i drop out of high school

@bookofspiders @iluvgogurt445 @deerheartedgrrrl @k1w1g1rl @linedup-and-decapitated @miss-sxty @ontheradio @panchikobun @mentallylivingin2000s @queerbottomwoman

[multiheadcanons]

THINGS THE MERCS WOULD WEAR OUT OF MY CLOSET

scout: he’s taking all my sweatpants and my boxers. i’ll never see them again. they won’t fit him because my waist is bigger than his. i feel like he’d very specifically take the sweatpants i used when i was younger and cosplayed as scout, and they would be his favorites without him putting much thought into it. they’re comfy! he might go through my sweaters, but i don’t think any would really catch his eye. i would insist he takes one of my many winter coats i don’t use. i just want him to be warm he worries me sometimes. and i need to get rid of these damn coats. i don’t know how they didn’t make it to the donate pile.

soldier: i have a single pair of decent steel toed work boots that are two sizes too big for me and i think him and engie would fight over them. they’re good boots. no brand on them. they’re khaki though. engie would probably get more use from them. and he’s gonna make fun of me because i have a single pair of matched socks and the rest of them are thrown in there. he’s welcome to organize the drawer if he really feels some type of way about it. gonna be really confused by the cropped jacket.

pyro: pyro would take my cloaks. they might also take my slippers (they’re cows), but my cloaks are definitely gone. they would also attempt to take my boot cut lavender levi’s jeans. i would definitely fight them for those pants though, they’re my favorite freakin pairs. they would be very confused as to why i have so many slips in colors i don’t own in my closet otherwise until i tell them that they’re summer nightwear. then they’d ask if every dress was my nightwear. and i would have to ask myself if i really want to keep all of my dresses or if i want the faceless murderer to have them instead. maybe leave the pink one, please? and we would be having many serious conversations about the taylor swift merch. i’m willing to part with some stuff but i’m fighting on others.

demo: all of my turtlenecks are gone. i’ll never see them again. that’s on me though, i have like five different black turtlenecks that have different textured fabric. if he could leave me at least one, preferably the ribbed one, that would be so awesome. and if he’ll leave me my velvet while it’s still cold outside that would be equally awesome thank you tavish. he would probably be the one to take my knit sweaters. i’d beg for the dysphoria sweater to be left. please leave me my one dysphoria sweater.

heavy: i think i maybe have three sleep shirts that are actually in heavy’s size, and they would just be normal shirts on him. one of them is a texas tourist shirt, one of them is a game grumps shirt, and the last one is my unus annus buddy system shirt. he can have the texas one. we would actually have to fistfight for my game grumps shirt, i had to wait like six months for the restock, and i’m snatching my unus annus shirt directly out of his hands. it’s not even getting unfolded for him to look at. he’d find it humorous that i’m emotionally attached to these shirts, and wouldn’t take anything. appalled by what i call my winter coat.

engineer: he would first try to take my one winter coat that i wear exclusively, which is actually just a men’s green sherpa jacket i stole from my brother like 6 years ago at this point. i will kindly, yet firmly steer him towards the three other men’s winter coats currently sitting in my closet that i don’t touch. he’d probably end up getting the work boots. i’ll miss them. but they’re good boots.

medic: he is popping the lenses out of every frame of glasses i own. he’s got his own lenses he can put in them. i have nine sets of prescription glasses. i’m very serious about my glasses, i will never wear contacts so i need to have variety in my glasses. and he’s gonna decide he wants variety too. he’s maybe leaving me two if he decides he likes me that day. i would have to beg at his feet to not leave me my worst pairs. but he’s not leaving without almost every set i own. he would have me begging him to get out of my room. he’s like… the worst sister in the world. he’ll rag on my clothing tastes and then say “oooo! i’m taking this.”

sniper: he’d probably go through my pullovers. his legs are longer than mine, so i don’t think he’s going to fit any of my pants. but he can fit my pullovers. he could take them, i wouldn’t care. mostly opts for my neutral pullovers, or the quarter zips. if he’d leave me one black crewneck i don’t care otherwise. i don’t think he’d take anything though. he might take this thick, tight knit maroon quarter zip pullover. i’d let him, i hardly wear it. will go through my jewelry if he’s already allowed to go through my clothes.

spy: joining sniper in going through my jewelry. probably thinks my style is doodoo garbage. doesn’t get my shoe choices. annoyed by the extensive pairs of open toed fuzzy slippers. respected the glasses concept until medic took them, so there went that. appreciates the body jewelry selection. but he can’t wrap his mind around how all of the individual pieces could even come together to make semi coherent outfits. sorry not all of us can afford three thousand dollar suits…

[riverofjazzsims]

Winter Holiday 20 years old 4'11 Orientation: Heterosexual-ish Occupation: Creator of smiles Location: Where the snow first falls

Winter Holiday is an unique individual who over the last few months has started to show, shall we say some interesting characteristics. For the moment though she is mostly human. She knows that she will have an interesting road a head of her and as her parents have made her aware, a partner during this journey will be essential. Mainly because no-one knows what to expect. Her parents defied the rules and loved each other and if that wasn't bad enough did what was thought impossible, create new life. See Winter has some magical lineage, her fathers, yes fathers, are a touch legendary and her mother seemingly just human was found to be a bit more than anyone could guess.

But we are not here today to talk about them. Winter is very much a mystery and as such, details about her will become known as we progress.

Here are some fun Winter facts: ❄️she absolutely LOVES the cold and snow ❄️oddly almost anywhere Winter goes there's either a drop in temp / starts to snow ❄️The birthmarks on her cheeks slowly appeared over the years and are cool to the touch ❄️She loves the color blue ❄️Dancing is her religion

More info will be forthcoming as we lead up to the submission deadline

Contestant Entry Rules:

❄️YA males only, any ethnicity or size welcome ❄️No Occults - caveat- winner will become immortal/long lifespan as Winter will be walking this rock of a planet for a very long time. ❄️Bio/brief backstory ❄️1 negative trait/ no custom traits ❄️No in game jobs assigned please ( totally fine for them to have one listed in their bio) ❄️3 skills of your choosing, max level 5 ❄️Likes/Dislikes please - 10 max ❄️Turn-on/off optional ❄️light /med CC or Vanilla is OK ❄️NO ALPHA hair ❄️No body presets ❄️Attire: 2 everyday/ 1 cold weather. If you don't have seasons please add your sims cold weather outfit as their 3rd everyday and I will change it over to the appropriate slot in CAS. All other you can leave in underwear and I will supply outfit if/when needed. Please keep in mind we will be almost always in cold weather when outside.

Side note: I use default skin (Bare by Lamatisse) and eyes (jack eyes remastered - but i had to "fix" them to work after some patch so your simmies will be using those in game Sliders are ok as I have the most popular ones. Note I will not add any new ones in my game so small tweaks may be made to compensate

❄️ I own ALL packs ❄️

Quick Questions for the potential hopefuls What is your favorite color Tell us what makes you naughty and what makes you nice ( yes answer both) Sims height

Contestant Submissions

Submissions deadline: Saturday Feb 15th @10pm CST. If I end up with more than 7 candidates , 7 will be chosen from the submissions. More to come if this ends up being the case

Remember to tag me or use #HTDF or #KillerBC So I can see your entry and reblog

Friendly reminder this is an 18+ blog, there will be mature themes involved. So the watcher needs to be at least 18 to enter 🫡

Not everyone will make it out alive.👀☠️ Some may even disappear. There will be chaos and drama and what ever else these damn sims throw my way.

Gameplay: There will be various gameplay mods being used throughout this BC including and not limited to Wicked Whims, and several Sacrificial Mods including extreme violence There will be some storytelling component to this, As with most BC there will be some challenges, group activities/dates and solo opportunities. Interactions will predominately be autonomous and I will use that to help build the story and game play. Some scenes/interactions may be replayed out using poses/animations Winter is looking for love but keep in mind there is a story playing out along side this and its a little on the dark side and yes not everyone will make it out alive. The only ones immune to the Grimms kiss will be Winter and her parents.

[coquettecouture]

Achieving the iconic 2015 look as a 2025 girl!

Have you ever told yourself you were born into the wrong generation? Maybe it’s the nostalgia of listening to One Direction on your iPhone 5, or maybe you’re older and can enjoy it more now. Whatever the case may be, if you’re reading this you also miss the good energy of the 2013-2016s. And if that is the case, this is the post for you! Achieving a real and authentic 2015 inspired year is nowhere near as unobtainable as it might seem. From youtube, to fashion inspo let this post be your guide to unleashing your inner icon!

Fashion Inspiration!

King kylie, Bella Hadid, Ariana Grande and Sky Ferreria! All iconic and well known fashion icons. Whether you're a Pinterest 2014 girl or a Tumblr 2015 one, you at least are familiar with one. Luckily a huge part of the era's fashion is it's simplicity. Depending on the sub-style you're going for, your inspiration can range anywhere from shabby chic to grunge!

Regardless of color, most of the essentials remain the same. Skater girl skirts? Make it pink or black, and it works no matter the aesthetic! Though for some things, such as the coquette shabby chic, try things like floral wedges and flowy dresses! And for grunge, try flannels, black skinny jeans and converse! Fashion is all about what works for you, which is why it's important to find your style before anything else. Fashion inspo is just as unique as you are!

Movies and Books!

Of course, to really embrace the energy of a 2015 icon, you have to surround yourself with it! Staple movies like, The Fault in our stars and Paper towns are a way one ticket to nostalgia. Other movies such as Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Great Gatsby and If I Stay are perfect additions to your 2015 movie nights! My personal favorite movies of the time are All the bright places, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List and LOL. The early 2010's were the best movie era in my opinion and this filmography list proves it!

The books however, are an entirely more diverse subject. While most 2010's movies are either mostly dystopian or romance, the books are a whole different ballpark. From horror to romcom to sci-fi, there's a fit for everyone! The most popular choices are of course John Green and your typical dystopian series; however, I raise a much larger choice of selections. In terms of sci-fi with a mix of romance the Caster Chronicles series (Beautiful Creatures) is a phenomenal series and an even better movie. If horror is more your speed, Natasha Preston's The Cellar and Welcome to the Dark House by Parker Bradley are definitely CoCo approved! Finally for the love nuts, aka me, To All the Boys I've Loved Before is a classic and obvious choice, but I would be a fraud to not include it!

Music Music Music!

One beautiful thing about the 2010's is it's consistency in music that makes you feel! For most people, that feeling is sadness LOL. However, there is poetry in that writing which makes the inner ache of somber all worth it for the bliss of melody. Artists like The 1975, Marina, Lana Del Rey and Lorde are all versatile and perfect artists to get you right back in that nostalgic state!

Whether you're looking for a more girlish vibe or a darker energy, the 2010's are a great time for whatever musical desires you have! I will leave my link to my 2014 playlist right here! Whether you use it for yourself or inspiration is up to you! Please let me know in the comments if you end up liking it, or link your own playlists!!!

Room Decor!

The quickest way to achieve a realistic 2015 inspired room is to go onto Pinterest and find your niche! For some super personal ideas on how to make your room aesthetically you, check out some old DIY YouTube videos. They range from various aesthetics, and you can personalize them anyway you please! My favorite youtubers to watch are MyLifeAsEva, LaurDIY, Alisha Marie and of course my queen of DIY Bethany Mota.

For the overall aesthetic, if you’re one of the grungier girls, opt for posters like The 1975 or The Neighborhood. Things like black throw pillows or printed out photos of you and your friends are perfect for achieving your look. Cutting out clippings from magazines and making collages is also a fun and free way to personalize your room!

Now if you’re like me and you’re more of a pink girl, try floral sheets like tulips or daisies! Fur throw pillows and double sided sequin pillows are a good touch for your bed too. Posters like Lana Del Rey and Ariana Grande are more 2015-esque touches, along with string lights and polaroids!

No matter the aesthetic, what’s really important is personalization! You don’t want your room to be the same as everyone else’s, it should be unique and showcase who you are!

In Conclusion..

Whether you’re a Tumblr grunge or a Pinterest shabby chic, I hope this guide helps you in any way it can! The most important thing about truly making this year your dream aesthetic is all in your experience. 2025 is what you make it! Whether it’s staying at home all day reading TFIOS, or if it’s going out and taking polaroids on the beach. Any year can be any aesthetic you want, as long as you hope it so. Even small things like hanging out with friends or watching nostalgic YouTube videos can make your year what you want it to be!

Thank you so much for reading, and for all of the support I have gotten! I truly haven’t been posting for long, but I have already made friends and gotten so much love and I want to thank you all so very much for it! If there’s anything you’re interesting in me reading, or want a more in depth explanation for, please let me know in the comments! I love you divas, stay cutesy!

[vshiftsss]

🍞 for the ask game :D

HOGWARTS UNI DR MOODBOARD - (MEREDITH WINDSOR)

thanks for the ask!

🍞 - create a mood board of some of your closest friendships in your desired reality. you could include their face claim, favorite color, clothing style, what your friendship with them all looks like, etc.

alright…i’m gonna be honest. i don’t usually script my friends. ever. unless i’m shifting to a place with an established friend group. so, basically, i had to make this mood-board while also thinking of things meredith would be into and what we would do together. this is what i decided on. and if it doesn’t match well…i tried my best.

pics in order: hobby, us together, something that represents us, favorite color, faceclaim (of course i had to script sabrina in somehow), hobby, clothing style, us together, friendship tradition

hobby… one of the things meredith and i instantly bonded over was our shared love for creating music. i play the piano while she plays the guitar, and sometimes we’ll put our brains together to create some song that will never see the light of day again. meredith is a lot better than me at songwriting, but she claims i’m ‘just as good as her’. at least she’s being nice about it!

friendship dynamic… i met meredith while i was moving into my dorm in the ravenclaw house. she had moved in earlier than me, and she had her door ajar, soft pop music flowing out from her bedroom. my room is across the hall, so every time i passed by, i glanced over to see what she was doing. eventually, she caught me, and instead of calling me nosy, she gave me a radiant smile and offered to help me settle in. that night, we both went on an adventure touring the campus, and it really solidified our bond. we’re attached at the hip, two peas in a pod. best friends forever :)

favorite color… judging by the theme of this post and the pic of oranges in the mood board, it’s pretty clear meredith’s favorite color is orange. she tries to incorporate it into everything she owns, too, whether it’s a few orange tulips in a vase, or some stickers on her water bottle.

clothing style… i honestly don’t know the names of the specific style she wears, but it’s kind of similar to mine. imagine blouses, lace, stockings, mary janes, dainty jewelry, sundresses…that kind of vibe. though she also wears sweaters and simple tees if it’s just a night in, or a study session. truly depends on the occasion.

friendship tradition… we always eat breakfast together. doesn’t matter if we have schedule conflicts, if someone’s sick, or if we’re completely swamped with work. sometimes we eat in the dining hall, sometimes we find a small café to eat and study in. if one of us can’t make it, we bring food to them. or we facetime. no matter what, we’ll always eat together. it’s our dedicated time to each other, even if it’s just twenty minutes.

overview… guys i love her. absolutely adore her. i’m so excited to see her. UGHH making mood boards is now my new favorite pastime. expect more! love you guys, happy shifting!

ask game :)

[gamerbeta]

"10 People I'd Like To Get To Know Better"

Sorry! I completely forgot to check my notifications until this evening and just saw that I got tagged twice for this post

Thanks @ned-magma and @thatonesubwaypenguin for the tags! :D 

Last Song: This amazing chaotic mashup :)

Favorite Color: I’d probably say either cyan or sky blue, though lots of colors are pretty! :) 

Last Book Read: UHHHHHH this one I don’t remember, it’s been a bit since I touched a book that wasn’t schoolwork :,) 

Last Movie Watched: GroundHog Day (on GroundHog’s Day :)

Last Game: Ooh, it was either Pokémon Black 2 (Still trying to beat Emmet, I beat his brother) or it was Xenoblade Chronicles 3 (got the expansion pack with Rex and Shulk. Haven’t played too much of XC1 but maaaan was Rex built different here than in XC2! XD)

Last Show: Black Butler, cuz he’s simply one heck of a butler…

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Definitely got a sweet tooth!

Relationship Status: I’m single

Last Internet Search: What the Unown alphabet was, I won’t elaborate further in here but you might see in my next post why :)

Oh! And I actually wanted to add a category here to make the count 10! (Also cuz I’m curious on others�� tastes for this one)

Favorite Pokémon: Totodile’s actually my fav, I loved the lil crazy guy since I was a lil kid! :D 

Please join us (only if you want to ofc): @scarleteevee1 @tiredclemont @cisnt-critter @space-wild707 @theoddbun @charlyonok @starrshot  and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in the fun! :D

[crashdevlin]

High Walls in Gotham

Author’s Note: I'm so happy to be back!

Summary: Jason has known Y/n since they were running together on the streets. Now that they’re in their 20s, Jason is Red Hood cleaning up the streets of Gotham with bullets and blood, and Y/n is White Witch, the criminal elite’s favorite fence and Black Mask’s favorite advisor. With their places in Gotham so opposed, does their past even matter?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 3438

Story Warnings: a bit of angst and mutual pining.

~~~

When rain falls in Gotham, it turns an already-dark city into a cloud of ink-colored oil slick. The city doesn’t care, though. It keeps going through the rain. Businessmen do their business, taxis run their fares, criminals plot their crimes, and heroes foil them.

Jason Todd continues through the rain, too. Three parts hero, two parts criminal, and one part little boy who never really grew up.

My security system goes off to inform me that I have a visitor approaching the door of the apartment. A blur of black and red passes the camera as I pull up the video on my phone. I get to my door and open it, just as he raises his hand to knock. It takes him by surprise and gives me a chance to get a good look at him. Red hood and matching mask, brown fatigue pants, black and red boots. His eyes are grey today.

He covers his shock quickly and pushes into my living room. “Shipment of guns coming in. Big one. I want details.”

“Please, come in, Jason. Would you like anything? A drink or perhaps a lesson in manners?” I greet him as I shut the door.

“Save it. I want names, dates, times. Now,” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me.

“Come on. If I knew something, I’d tell you. Sounds like you know more than I do.”

His eyes narrow further and I can tell he’s wishing he could intimidate me like he does other criminals. Well, it’s just too bad for him that I know him too well. “Quit playing dumb, Y/n. You get your fingers into any pie you can reach in this city. Last time an arms shipment came through, you were the one who told me about it.”

“Exactly.” I cross my arms and look bored. “I knew something, I told you. This time I don’t know anything, so that is why I have nothing to tell you.”

Jason glares more before sighing. “Fine. Let’s play a game. You answer a question honestly, and I’ll leave.”

I smile and nod. “Sure.”

“Who are you working for right now? And don’t even try that self-employed bullshit. You’re always in someone’s pocket.”

I lick my lips and take a breath. “Black Mask,” I respond.

“Black Mask again, huh? Figures. He’s the only one crazy enough to work with you repeatedly without killing you. ‘Kay, next question.”

I put my hand on my chest in mock offense. “Are you trying to wound me, Jason?” I nod. “All right, then. Next question.”

“You dating him?”

“What?”

“Dating, fucking, whatever.”

I laugh out loud, the sound echoing through my suite. “Are you serious, right now? I’d never let Roman touch me! He’s rich but he’s a fucking psycho. I have standards!”

“So you aren’t protecting him because you’re screwing him. So why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not protecting him. Black Mask doesn’t need me to protect him.” I shake my head. “I don’t know about any shipment of guns. I swear.”

He stares at me, examining my face for any trace of deception. He sighs when he doesn’t find any. “Something’s not right. I know guns are coming in. I’ve heard a dozen people whispering about it, but no one knows anything.”

“Have you asked your former mentor? Or any of the other birdies?” I ask, taking a step closer to him.

He tenses at the mention of his former family, jaw tight and anger in his posture. “Damn it. You think they might know something?”

“I learned a long time ago that Batman and Robin know what’s going on in this city. Much to chagrin.”

“Yeah. Which means they know about you working for Black Mask. They know you’re working with any criminal who throws money at you.”

I blink at him a few times before smiling tightly. “I’m not a stripper; no one throws money at me.” I step toward my kitchen, turning my back so he won’t see my emotions on my face. “And I’m a small fry. If they know about me, I’m likely listed as ‘nameless fence slash goon number 3’.”

I grab a beer from my fridge and distract myself with opening and drinking it. “You think I believe you’re just a fence?” he challenges, following me into the kitchen. “I know you better than that.”

“What, exactly, do you think I do, then, Jason?”

“Black Mask keeps you around for a reason, Y/n. If you’re not fucking him, you’re advising him, and if you’re advising him…” He grabs my shoulders and forces me to face him. “Then you’re protecting him, and if you’re protecting him, you’re lying to me.”

“I protect myself and those I care about. Roman doesn’t qualify,” I respond, glaring slightly as I look up into his eyes. “Now, I answered your questions. I’m done with your game. You can leave now.”

I move away from him, intent to show him the door, but he grabs my elbow to stop me. “I’m not-” he starts, but I’m done with our conversation. I spin back, gun from my back holster pressed against his temple.

“Let’s not,” I say coldly.

He looks at the gun for a moment. “You’re not left-handed. Think you could actually-”

“Safety’s already off and I doubt accuracy would matter much at this range. Would you like to meet God again?”

I’d never pull the trigger but he doesn’t know that. He puts his hands up and steps back. “Fine. I’ll talk to Dick, see if he knows anything.”

“Good idea,” I say as he walks toward the door.

“Oh, and, uh,” he turns at the door and smirks at me. “Your safety is on.”

I roll my eyes as he leaves. Of course the safety was on. I wouldn’t actually clock him with a loaded gun if the safety wasn’t safe. I sigh and take a seat on my sofa. I hate that I love that idiot. As terrible as it seems, I would’ve been better off emotionally if he had just stayed dead.

~~~

I spend a lot of time at the Black Mask Club. Roman likes having me around…and I like people-watching. There’s so much information that can be gleaned from watching interactions. I watch a couple clowns walk in, followed by the pigtail-wearing blond. Joker doesn’t follow, but the fact that his goons are with her says that Harley and Joker are back together. Wonderful. I approach and offer a smile to the clowns before Harley turns to me.

“White Witch! It’s been forever!” She wraps her arms around me and I return the gesture. She shoos away the goons and offers me a seat next to her at the bar. “Yer a fixture here lately, ain’ ya?

“Even when I’m not on his payroll, it’s a good idea to keep tabs on what Roman’s up to.” I throw a look at the goons. “I see you’re back with Facepaint.”

She shrugs. “Aw, Mr. J ain’t so bad. He bought me this bracelet to apologize.” She shows off a diamond tennis bracelet I recognize as having been stolen a week ago.

“You know I don’t judge, Harley, but-”

“Yeah, ya do,” she argues. “Yer still salty that my puddin’ put down your puddin’.”

I smile politely. “I do not now, nor have I ever had, a ‘puddin’. I’m just saying…deserve better.”

“Does she now?” A higher pitched manic voice behind me says. I have to work to keep the smile on my face as the clown joins Harley at the bar. “I give Harley everything she could ever ask for.”

“Of course! A happier woman, I’ve never seen,” I force out, keeping the smile despite the fact that I want to take a crowbar to Joker’s stupid, smiling face. “You two have a good night. Enjoy your drinks.” I turn away and walk toward Roman in the VIP.

“What crawled up her stovepipe and died?” Joker asks.

“She’s just lonely. Don’t worry ‘bout her.” At least Harley has the decency to keep her observations about me and Jason to herself. The last thing I need is for that clown monster to know I have a soft spot worth exploiting.

“Fuckin’ clown,” Roman says as I step up into the VIP area.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with Joker,” I say as I grab a glass of wine and take a seat beside him.

“Everyone with half a mind has a problem with that crazy fuck. He’s unpredictable.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Roman.”

“Has nothing to do with me bankrolling your lifestyle, then?” he jokes.

“Absolutely not,” I respond with a smirk. I take a sip of wine and settle in for the night, trying to ignore the clowns. Joker doesn’t deserve to be sitting in a bar with a beautiful woman at his side. He doesn’t deserve the cushy cell in Arkham that he’ll be in next time Batman takes him off the streets. Joker deserves an unmarked grave in a pauper’s graveyard. Of course, Batman would never put him down. He’d never do the right thing. He’d only do what he thought was right.

Jackass.

~~~

I leave the Black Mask Club at about 2 in the morning. I wave off the bodyguards that want to walk me to my car. I don’t need them. I sigh when I see Red Hood leaning against my car door. “Two nights in a row. You’re gonna make me think you’re sweet on me, Hood.”

“So I was thinking about our talk, ya know, before you pulled your gun on me,” he starts, ignoring my comment as he stands up straight. “You said you protect the ones you care about. I didn’t think there was anyone you cared about besides yourself.”

I nod, faking a thoughtful expression. “You’re right. You know me so well. I do only care for myself.”

“No, I’m thinking I was wrong, actually. I think there must be someone you actually give a fuck about.”

I push past him to open my car door but he puts his hand on the door to prevent me from moving. I push down my anger and look up at him. “Years ago, there was a dumbass boy I gave a fuck about, but he died about a decade ago.” I take a deep breath and look up into the eyes of his mask.

His posture changes but I can’t see expression because of that fucking mask. “Sorry. I was just-”

I roll my eyes, happy that it went over his head. “You were just pushing my buttons.”

“I was teasing. I didn’t think… what happened?” he asks, stepping back to let me open my door.

“Gotham happened,” I respond before getting in my car and turning it on. He steps back and I peel out of the parking lot.

I wish he would leave me the fuck alone sometimes. I had to see him dead already. I had to mourn him already. I can’t see him die again, not for this city and not for the goddamn Bat.

I wish I really was as cold and heartless as people think I am.

~~~

“Think we got one of ‘em to take the bait,” Roman says when I enter his office in the morning. I offer him a cup of coffee and take a seat in the armchair in front of his desk.

“Yeah? Did you get the Bat to bite?”

“No. Un-fucking-fortunately, I think it’s the other one…not the kid, the other bird.”

“Nightwing? Used to be Robin?” I ask, my stomach dropping a bit.

“Yeah. These idiot ‘heroes’ and their stupid fuckin’ names,” Roman sneers.

“Like Black Mask and White Witch and Poison Ivy and fuckin’ Calendar Man?” I snap, my heart racing with fear. Jason went to Dick. Dick is going to lead Jay into a trap.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, bitch?” Roman growls, leaning forward.

I lick my lips and shake my head. “Ya know, I think I might be PMSing. You need me to stick around or can I go home?”

“Yeah, get the fuck out of here. Don’t need your fucking attitude,” he dismisses. I stand and walk out of his office, forcing myself to walk to avoid his attention, but I want to run. I need to warn Jason. Now.

I race to Jason’s apartment, swerving through cars and going 80 in a 45. I screech to a stop, easily parking in front of the building and running inside. I slam my fist into the wood of his door. I wait a few seconds then hit the door again. Jason finally opens the door and I push into his apartment. He looks over at me, exhaustion on his face. He runs his hand through his hair as he closes his door.

“I hope you have a good reason to wake me up when-”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” I interrupt. His eyes go wide at my tone. “Do not go to the docks tonight.”

His eyebrows come together in confusion. “How do- Wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “You lied to me. You do know about the guns.”

“Of course I do; it’s my job to know this shit. The point was for you not to know because it’s a fucking trap.” I step closer to him. “Roman was hoping to catch the Bat so he put rumors out in the world about the guns. It’s not for you.”

“What, you were gonna let Black Mask kill-”

“Yes! Let Bruce finally get what’s coming to him, sure! But not you,” I insist. “Not again.”

Jason blinks a few times before his expression softens. “You know I can’t just let those guns into the city.”

“Let someone else take care of it, Jason. Please,” I whisper.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Who? Especially knowing it’s a trap, who can I give it to?”

“Give it to Gordon. Let GCPD actually do their jobs for once. Or tell Batman. Let him know it’s a trap, that way he can prepare, but don’t walk into that shit.”

“Dick and I-”

I grab his shirt and look up into his eyes. “Don’t. Go.”

He looks shocked at the intensity in my expression. “Okay. I’ll…toss it to someone else.”

I sigh in relief and let go of his shirt. “Good.” I move to leave, but his hand wraps around my wrist and I turn back to look at him,. He’s looking down at his ugly carpet, white strands of hair falling into his eyes.

“That dumbass boy from your past that you were talking about… is he…”

I scoff and shake my head a little. Had to know he’d figure it out after this. “Still a dumbass with anger issues despite being murdered years ago? Yeah.”

He closes his eyes for a second. “What if…this dumbass…what if he cared about you, too?”

I take a deep breath as tears threaten my eyes. “Then he’d be a bigger dumbass than I thought ‘cause he’d be clinging to me the way I’ve been clinging to him.”

He takes an audible breath, his fingers tightening around my wrist. “You’re clinging to the real him… the old him. Do you want him back? That him, not the… ghost you’ve been talking to?”

I shake my head, the tears finally welling up. “You’re not a ghost, Jay. You came back…and you’ve been angry, but… anyone who doesn’t understand…they never fucking understood you in the first place,” I say, thinking about Batman admonishing him for becoming the Hood.

He looks over at me, his eyes green and wet with unshed tears. “Do you? Do you understand why I became the Red Hood?”

“Of course.” I discretely wipe my eyes and clear my throat. “You grew up seeing the same thing I did, the true darkness in the heart of Gotham. Then Batman took you from the streets and gave you a purpose more than just surviving. He taught you his morals and gave you a place at his side and that place next to him, it got you killed. And then…”

“And then I came back… broken and changed,” he says, his voice low.

“No. Not broken.” I blink away more tears. “Changed. Of course you changed. You came back different, angry at the way his morals put you in a place to…” I look down, anger filling me. “Joker should never have been allowed to live after the first time he escaped Arkham. Throwing them in jail over and over does fucking nothing. It’s a stupid cycle that Batman perpetuates because he knows that he is nothing if he doesn’t have anyone to fight against. You shouldn’t have had to pay that price for him.”

He looks over at me, shocked by some part of my diatribe. “You…” he starts, his voice cracking.

I lick my lips and take a deep breath to try to regain the composure I usually pride myself on. “When Bruce Way adopted you, I was so jealous. Even when I watched the Boy Wonder beat up my dad’s drug dealer and I heard your voice from under that stupid domino mask… I was happy for you. But when Joker killed you… I wanted to kill Bruce. It was his fault.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “If I’d been older, if I hadn’t been a 15 year old girl with no access to billionaire Bruce Wayne… I would have tried, but I knew I couldn’t get close enough.”

“You still feel that way? After all these years?”

“Never stopped.” I clear my throat and pull my hand away from him. “Anyway.”

“Don’t ‘Anyway’ me. We need to talk about this.”

“What do we have to talk about? This doesn’t change anything. You’re still going to be trying to clean up the seedy underbelly of Gotham…and I’m still going to be stuck in that seedy underbelly. We can’t stop being who we are and we can’t afford to be each other’s weaknesses.”

Jason nods. “I get that but I want…can’t we just talk a bit longer?”

I take a breath and step back. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you. Something I missed after I left you behind to go play hero with Bruce.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears and look at his dirty carpet beneath our feet. “I used to dream of moving away somewhere, having a normal life. Used to dream of living that normal life…with that dumbass boy.”

“Yeah? What happened to that dream? What shattered it?” He moves to try and catch my eyes. “Was it the boy? Or because of Batman?”

I look up, smiling tightly. “It was me, actually. I realized that I’m never gonna make it out of Gotham. It was a nice dream though. It’s still kinda my happy place, where I go to rest my mind when the real world gets too harsh.”

“Tell me about the dream life. Where do we live? What do we do?” he asks quietly.

“A little farm in the middle of nowhere. Upstate somewhere, ya know. Just some chickens and goats roaming around. I’d work at the diner in town and you’d do something with your hands…mechanical stuff, maybe. We would have breakfast every morning on the porch and watch the sunset every night.”

Jason’s eyes get misty. “And what about kids? Are there…kids in the dream?”

I smile softly. “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just us but sometimes there’s a baby.”

“And we’re…happy? Together on that farm, we’re happy?” he asks, his voice practically a whisper.

“That’s how I know it’s a dream, silly. Gotta be fake if I’m happy.”

“So, you’re saying…” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “...being happy with me is only possible in your dreams?”

I laugh humorlessly. “You tell me, Jason.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “You know it’s not that simple. We can’t just throw away our responsibilities, our missions. But God, I wish we could.”

I smile sadly and pat his chest. “Exactly. We’re both still here and, well, we aren’t going anywhere…together or otherwise.”

“Dammit. We’re stuck, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” I confirm softly. “But we’re alive. Stay that way for me, Jason. Please.” 

“I can do that…for your…happy place.”

I go to my tiptoes and press my lips to his cheek. “Thank you, my dumbass boy,” I say before pulling open his door and running down the stairs.

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 13

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . 🗝 .���.ᐟ masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟏𝟑 | 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

chapter word count: 3.1k

content warnings: blanket warnings

a/n: Hi! So sorry for the delay lol, the semester started and it Is Going. This chapter was like the last one: unplanned!! Idk if yall remember, but Paradis holds a meeting between the military and the queen when the Volunteers first arrive, and our dear Y/n will make her appeal there. That was supposed to be chapter 12, but as you can see, that didn't happen oops. So! Im now one hundred percent sure that will be next chapter and the next one after that will be a filler slash relationship building chapter with our favorite angry boy yay! Also its my birthday yayyyy 

Thanks for reading!

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 being proven wrong as you approach, and you realize that the gate is not yet repaired. There is no splintered wood nor crumbling rock to serve as evidence of the invasion carried out by the Armored but the place where the gate is supposed to stand, even though you know the memories of the Warrior’s Titan mark every survivor.

Still, it is Bertholdt's presence that settles over Shiganshina. Maybe it's because the damage caused by Reiner has already been, in a way, repaired by Eren, as it is his Titan that now guards the gate to the city. It is eerie how the Wall doesn’t move nor sway, and yet what stood years against the snow, wind and rain is marked by a handprint on its summit.

As you get closer, you start to notice how the crystal seems to glow from within, a brighter and bigger sample of the lamps carried by the Scouts. It's dark purple where there is shadow and painted blue by the sun rays that bounce against its surface. But the overcast clouds seem to tint it a melancholy grey, sucking out the color of the once vibrant place.

The cart skids to a halt as you approach, and wooden platforms are brought down by pulleys to assist you in getting over the wall. You accept Armin’s hand when he offers you help in stepping down, your feet striking the earth as you move out of the cay of the others.

You stand still for a moment, looking upwards at the Wall.

It stands 50 meters tall above you, towering over your group. The others, having grown up next to walls their whole lives, are not as easily impressed as you, so you stand alone at the side, gawking at the sheer presence of the stone structure.

But it's not really stone, you remember. It's titan crystal, less so blue and more so grey and weathered than the one plugging both entrances to the city. Under them reside thousands of Colossal titans, struck up from the ground by a king of yesteryear, who vowed against war.

“It's big, huh?” Armin asks when he sees your upwards gaze.

You would make a that's what she said joke if you weren't unsettled by the magnitude of the future hanging over you, by the significance of the past standing below you. Judging by the handprint, you are more or less where Bertholdt once stood along with Reiner and maybe Annie, ready to carry out Marley’s will.

And in a messed up way, you are too. Not Marley’s will specifically – hell would freeze over before you did a thing that country preached. But you are under Zeke’s orders to infiltrate the island, just like the Warriors once were, and pave the way for his own ulterior motives. You were a double, triple, quadruple agent, working for both teams, your own, and the audience.

“Yeah,” you answer, a little breathless from all the things running through your mind. “It's… intimidating.”

“I guess it can be,” – He guesses? – “they’re not exactly… conventional.”

“You can say that again,” you answer.

Armin lets out a small laugh, rubbing his nape. He leads you over to one of the wooden elevators as you ponder on the implications of it all, so lost in thought you almost bump into him when he comes to a stop.

The elevator you get on is boarded by him and Levi, who also brings his horse, and you are slowly brought up by two pulleys situated at the top of the wall. The way up is gradual, in the sense that there is not much to do, much to talk about, much to see but the horizon that stretches past the field and the forests.

The wind whistles against your ears as you are elevated in the air, getting you closer and closer to the zenith. It's unreal, and the view from the side of the Walls steals your breath away just like the Walls themselves. It's twenty meters, then thirty, then fourty. Finally, at the fifty meter mark, you disembark the wooden structure, careful to not step on the unused rails that decorate the Wall’s perimeter.

You pay no mind to the neighs of Levi’s horse as the captain leads him to the elevators on the other side, preferring instead to break off from your small group in favor of peeking over the edge, towards the city. You do so carefully, knowing you are not clumsy enough to fall, but still exercising an adequate amount of caution.

There, with the wind running through your hair, tousling your cape, you bear witness to the tragedy of Shiganshina. There are two craters in the middle of the city, running deep, stretching wide. Twins; siblings. They scar the earth, leaving nothing but crumbling houses and half cleaned rubble around them, a stark scar the city bears from the altercation last year.

There is a river that flows all throughout Shiganshina, extending past the borders established by the Wall. Houses that harbor what little the people of the district left behind in their panicked retreat line the streets, and you marvel at how little they look from up where you are.

A presence steps beside you, and you don't need to crane your neck to know who they are. Eren contemplates the city in a similar fashion, his cape matching your own in the rhythm the roaring wind dictates. Your fingers clench the fabric of your pack as you survey the view.

You don’t need to look at him to know what he is thinking about. In the two weeks that it had taken you to arrive to Shiganshina, Eren had reverted back to his gloomy self, not offering much in terms of conversation or facial expressions. But you, much like him, remember the promises made under the blanket of dawn.

Bertholdt’s Colossal – now Armin’s– had been able to command such destruction in so little time. It had resulted in both the death of Armin and his resurrection, as well as the animosity you are sure many exhibit towards him, a sentiment shared with Floch.

So what could you do against thousands of them? If one’s brute force rendered –or rather, will render– Liberio’s navy useless, what did you possibly think you could do against an army commanded by the boy standing next to you?

You shift your gaze towards Eren, whose eyes seem to be glossed over with words left unsaid, with memories better left forgotten. But if he's anything like you, the very act of wanting to forget does nothing but enliven the contents of your premonitions.

His eyes meet yours and you wonder what he is thinking about now. Is it Carla, who perished at the hands of Dina? Is it Ramzi, who was crushed under the weight of giant feet? You don’t know which is worse; the undeniability of the past, or the indisputability of the future.

But there is no time to dwell on what was and what could be. You pull away from the call of the void, walking towards where Armin is waving at you. There are now two horses in the elevator, Levi’s and another you assume to be Armin’s.

The ropes twitch and groan as you are lowered into the district, and the slight wobble of the wood sends your heart into a faster tempo. It only begins to slow down when you are back on the safety of solid ground.

You wait for the others to come down, standing next to Armin as he straps his things to his horse, handing him your own when he gestures to you. The cart would do more harm than good when passing through the cities, so you’ve been relegated to passenger duty on Armin's horse.

“Oh, wait–” you say just as you are handing him your things. “Let me just get something out first.”

“Sure,” Armin says as you begin to rummage through them.

While Mikasa’s tea leaves have done little to prevent or minimize your headaches, they give you something to chew on on the road, so you want to get those out while it is possible to do so. But what falls out of your things when you are taking the packets out is not something you remember packing in the first place.

It is a small, black drawstring bag, similar to ones you’ve seen contain jewelry or other precious but small things. The material is too delicate to be from Paradis, and you’ve seen similar bags on Liberio, so you know it is something you unknowingly brought from Marley.

You frown, crouching to pick up the bag. Your face contorts even more when you notice that it is extremely light, as if the only thing that weighs in it is its own material. You distinctly remember your bag being vetoed as nothing dangerous, so you can't help but wonder if the contents of the bag were confiscated before you could get to it.

“What’s that?” Armin asks when you straighten up.

“I have no idea,” you answer, fighting a flinch when another voice pipes up from behind.

“What’s what?” Eren asks.

You wordlessly show him the small pouch, throwing it up in the air and catching it, feeling even more confused when nothing is heard from its insides. So, expecting nothing, you decide to open it anyway. What did you have to lose? The Scouts had already revised it, so they couldn’t fault you for doing so.

Nothing catches your eye when you peek into it, but the real surprise comes when you turn it upside down and shake it onto your held out hand.

A single button falls from the confines of the pouch, landing directly on the center of your palm. And this simple button should definitely not make you want to cry, but you have to take a deep breath before tears start coming out your eyes.

It's true that you didn’t have the permission to take things –your clothes– that were not rations and water from Marley, because either way the Scouts could seize it, or you could lose it, or it could simply be something to hang over your head. You argued with Zeke over it, wanting a part of your home for comfort in those foreign lands, but he didn’t budge.

However, something seems to have gotten through to him, because, without you knowing, he sniped away a button from the garments you arrived in, stowing it away inside your bag for a surprise when you arrived.

There is no note, only a lone button and the bag it came in, but to you it is now one of your most prized possessions. What a cruel joke that the evidence that Zeke cared for you, even if just a little, came to you in the very place that arguably suffered the most because of his exploits.

“It's a button,” you say after a moment. “A token from home.”

“You’ll lose it if you stash it there,” Eren says when you stuff it inside your pocket. “I don’t have string but… I think I know where to get some.”

“You don’t mean…” Armin trails off. “The basement?”

Eren nods. Armin’s eyes dart towards Levi, who catches his gaze and raises an eyebrow at his skittish behavior.

“Something of the matter, Arlert?” Levi asks, approaching.

“No, sir,” he answers, fiddling with the straps that hold your things to the back of his horse.

“I’d like to show Y/n the basement, sir,” Eren responds, voice flat to lend credibility to his excuse. “Maybe her perspective could show us something else.”

Levi narrows his eyes, darting them between Eren and you, but maybe your two weeks of compliance have softened his suspicions of you because he doesn’t immediately shut down the idea. Hange’s chipper voice only seals the deal.

“Oh? You want to extend the tour? Sounds like a great idea” they chirp. “Hey, why doesn’t Mikasa accompany you too? Surely she knows the district just as well.”

You accept Hange’s way of both looking out for you and keeping you in their sight. It is clear they trust Mikasa to cut you down should it be required, but they also know you’ve grown closer over the past two weeks. Mikasa, on her part, nods and falls into step next to Eren, with you following after them.

The atmosphere is eerie, the crunch beneath your boots strange enough you decidedly do not look down for fear you will find something other than rock. There is not one house without debris on its roof, with some completely torn from their foundations. There are traces of fire, of ash, of dried out blood.

Maybe Hell started in Shiganshina. Maybe the tragedy you want to prevent has already started.

But no matter, now you are too preoccupied –forcibly preoccupied– with not getting lost in the district, where every street and every building looks the same to you. Greenery swallows them, blending rock and dirt along the way, blemished by rocks, by wood, by forgotten belongings.

“We are here,” Eren says, stopping on the edge of the path.

The scene is brutal.

Up the cobblestone stairs sits a house– or more accurately, sat a house. Eren’s childhood home is completely destroyed by a boulder, the same one that trapped his mom under it, if your memory serves you correctly. The roof is at eye level, laying on top of the wooden ruins that

made up the structure.

The trapdoor they lead you to is right at the base of the boulder, having escaped the house’s fate by just a couple of meters. Although if the scratches on the door are anything to judge by, then there was a small rock on top, which probably got carried away the first time the Scouts discovered the basement.

They open the trapdoor, and you walk down the stairs after them, coming eye to eye with a broken door. You remember Levi kicking it down after the key Eren had brought with him hadn’t worked. You wonder if its protocol, to find a quick, brutal way to resolve problems, even if the consequences of such actions are something that marks it forever.

You chide yourself. Time is a privilege; you more than anyone –except Eren, probably– know how little you have left, how every second of it must be taken advantage of before it is too late. The fact that they had little to no time and still did the best they could is something to admire, not reprimanded.

Mikasa lights the lamp she had brought with her, flooding the room with it so you can see clearly. The study of Dr. Jaeger is full of books, vials and writings. Artifacts stand on every corner of the room, but there are too many empty spaces for it to feel organic. You guess whatever stood there was confiscated or something of the sort.

“I didn’t really need the string, you know,” you tell Eren, who is busy searching through various drawers.

“A want is not less than a need,” he answers cryptically.

“Hange said that,” Mikasa says.

“So what?” Eren says. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

You fidget, anxious without anything to do. You can’t help but feel as if you are intruding, being somewhere you are not meant to be. So, with nothing to do, you stroll around the room, reading the names of the books, some Eldian, some Marleyan.

“Do you think the house next door still has those scissors they used to lend us?” you hear Eren ask Mikasa.

“Probably. Why?” she responds.

“Could you look for them? I found the string but it's too long.”

You turn around just in time to see Mikasa’s suspicious glance, only this time it is not directed towards you, but towards Eren. Her eyes also dart towards you, albeit with less wariness that you thought she would.

“Are you sure?” she asks him, to which Eren nods.

Mikasa hesitates for a moment, but then steps through the ruined door, making her way to the neighbor’s. You watch her leave, looking as her scarf gently sways with every step she takes, going up to places she has roamed far longer than you.

Eren is back to rummaging throughout the study, even with his earlier statement of being able to find the string.

“So?” you ask amidst the silence. “Did you want to talk about something?”

You had touched upon his memories, yours, and the tragedies soon to come that dawn at the beach. He had the upper hand, the home turf; you had the better part of the future mapped out, and the knowledge that came with being an outsider.

But you hadn’t told him about your heritage, nor Zeke’s plan, nor the way you watched him break down in the last years of his life. So you are rightfully scared he might take his words back when he realizes you haven’t been entirely truthful with him.

“Talk?” he asks, snapping you out of your rabbit hole. “About what? Did anyone say anything? Was it Floch? If it was him I’ll–”

“He didn’t say anything,” you say, more surprised than anything. “I meant about the whole… future thing.”

“Oh, that,” he says, twisting his body so he is face to face with you again. In his hands lies a bunch of thread, so the scissors weren’t an excuse to get Mikasa out. “Why? Do you?”

“I just thought you wanted to. You know, when you proposed we go to the basement,” you say, each word sounding more and more ridiculous as you say them. “I thought maybe it was a ploy so nobody would hear.”

Eren tilts his head to the side, stepping closer to you. As he does, you notice the expressionless eyes regain a small fire, still, it was too small to compare with the him from before.

“This isn't…” he starts, struggling with finding the right words. “I’m not just talking to you because of that.”

“Well, yes,” you say, chuckling awkwardly. “I know that.”

“I think you don’t,” he replies. “It’s nice talking to someone who knows, sure, but not everytime we get together we have to talk about that.”

“Oh,” you say.

Back at Marley, your day to day life was ruled by what you knew and by what you would do with that information. Every word you exchanged with Zeke had an undertone to it, however kind, however innocent. For the past year you had done nothing but agonize over things yet to come, over people yet to suffer.

But it seems it's different here.

“Come on,” he says, side stepping onwards the stairs. “If Mikasa doesn't find the scissors I'll cut it with my blade.”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, following him up the stairs. “Okay.”

taglist:

@dressycobra7 @xngelsau @bloodchapell @i-think-im-adorable13 @luna4mnoon

@yuuuumii @kermittears @binluvsu @luvsymai @faerie-soirxx

@bambam1sa

ask or comment to be added!

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: Power Up

Chapter 1: Nimpo Evolution

Chapter 1 Summary: With the Kraang defeated and everyone physically healed, the turtles have time to develop their mystic powers in ways that not even Casey has seen before! Everyone but Leo. Except, maybe when he does he might not wanna tell them. Oh well. AKA Leo also gets healing hands like his 2k12 counterpart. Sadly, they end up backfiring on him. Who needs to know though?

Nimpo Evolution: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is completed and is written by @pickledcarrotsandradish, so go give them some love and support!!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Plot is three out of five!! Starting out, there isn't as much plotline going on, but I can see how its setting up for a more intense plotline as the story progresses. In this chapter, are a few key points to this story, that of course influence all the later chapters!"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is four out of five!! Throughout the chapter, there are undertones of suspense, as Leo attempts to figure out his nimpo, then at the end of the chapter, as its left somewhat on a cliffhanger, that's really when the suspense jumps right up!"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Angst/Hurt is three out of five!! As this is only the first chapter, there isn't a high amount of angst and hurt. There is a few minor moments, featuring Leo, and his frustration with himself, then later on in the chapter, more near the end, is when the angst really picks up."

Fluff/Comfort: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is two out of five!! This chapter has some notes of comfort here and there, though they're not the main focus emotion."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is four out of five!! The emotions are really well portrayed during this chapter, especially during the end!!"

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Drama/Tension Level is four out of five!! To start out, there is a little bit of tension between Leo and his brothers in the beginning, as they're all expanding their nimpo, and he hasn't made any breakthrough on his own, then during the later half of the chapter, the drama swoops right in!!"

Triggers: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Triggers are two out of five!! This chapter doesn't have many triggers, with there really only being two to keep an eye out for. Negative thoughts, and a slight description of blood and a painful injury. Other than that, there aren't many triggers in this chapter, so happy reading!!"

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Legibility (Reading) is four out of five!! Very clean chapter, no crazy text, reads very smooth!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five!! Once again, very clean chapter, wonderful pacing!! Its conveyed almost cleaner in audio book formatting, hence the single heart more. However, both ways of reading through this chapter are highly enjoyable!!"

Length: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Length is two out of five!! Chapter 1 of Power Up takes around 12-13 minutes to listen to!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter ->

Power Up: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

And so, that’s what happened. A week into his personal training, Raph was able to make a perfect mystic clone of himself that was so good, no one could tell the difference between the two. Sure, it could only do one big movement before fading into red-colored energy and Raph had to take a power nap after, but it was progress. Raph was nothing but the picture of continuous effort though and was improving day by day.

I love how this was brought up!! I find a lot of people often forget about Raph's cloning ability in general, and even often limit him to just red-hued clones. It's exciting to see how already this was brought up!!

It was a memorable day when Donnie came sprinting into the main area of the lair screaming like a banshee holding out his phone directly in front of him. Everyone was shouting at him to explain until purple mystic energy enveloped his phone, and it began to open the messaging app, type out "I can control tech with my mind," and send the message to the group chat seemingly without Donnie’s input. “I can literally control tech with my mind! This is the best day ever!!!” He screeched maniacally before promptly passing out. It was fun a few hours later, watching Donnie make the projector take itself apart and put itself back together, laughing like a madman the entire time.

I love how vividly I could see this scene in my mind!!

“Oooh, how ya feelin’, Mike?” Leo asked, trying to keep his voice cheerful and calm as he knelt in front of his youngest brother. Mikey was sitting down with a deep cut arching down the back of his right calf. He had gotten this from the fight with Hypno that Donnie and Raph were finishing up on the streets below. It had been Leo’s turn to wear the hippo costume this time for the plan, and it had sadly gone awry way too quickly for his liking.

The fact that they keep using the hippo costume over and over lol. What's even funnier, is that it seems that Hypno keeps falling for it, otherwise they'd stop using it!!

“Oh yeah, with Doctor Hippo-Leon? You’ll be a-okay in no time.” Leo responded with what he hoped was a soothing and reassuring tone. He hoped he didn’t sound like he wanted to curl up in a ball as another one of his plans injured his brother. No wonder Raph didn’t want to be the leader, who would? But at least Raph was evolving his ninpo at a steady rate. At the same time, Leo had officially hit his limit at forty-four (and what was up with that? Why was that number for him to max out on? What, he couldn’t even make a cool fifty?)

Y'know something I realized, was that, Leo knows what it's like to not be a leader. That's part of the reason why he has such a hard time adjusting to it. Raph has only ever known being a leader, and Leo has only ever really known being a follower. That's why its so hard for them to switch.

Also, I wonder, does the number 44 have an important significance? I tried looking up whether or not the number 44 was a lucky number in Japan, and it turns out its the most unlucky number, because the number 4 ("shi" in Japanese) sounds very similar to the word for "death," making it generally considered an unlucky number, so 44 would also be seen as unlucky due to the repetition of the "unlucky" 4. Basically 44 means double death.

However, in American culture (if I'm going off the Hamato's two ethnicities) 44 is considered to be a lucky number. In American culture, the number 44 is generally considered to be a lucky number, primarily associated with stability, hard work, building a strong foundation, and achieving goals through perseverance, often interpreted as a positive sign when frequently seen in daily life; it is often linked to the concept of "angel numbers" in numerology. So really, the symbolism behind the numbers could go either way, or it could just be the authors favorite number ^^

“That’s great Leo! I thought the whole ninpo thing might've been getting you down.” Clapping him on the back Leo is so glad he saw it coming and had time to brace himself for it, otherwise, he would have fallen over both from pain (both physical and mental what did Raph mean?) “You’re, uh, lookin’ a little pale though.”

I can imagine that that little comment Raph made probably threw Leo off his groove more than acquiring a new cut on the back of his leg.

“Congrats, Nardo,” Donnie told him with what he knew was complete sincerity, “it’s a really cool power-up.” and left for his lab.

Fic name drop!!

No, no, no. Leo turned over in his bed, his leg throbbing. His brothers didn’t think like that, none of them did. They all cared for each other, so yes, everyone’s problems were everyone else’s problems. That’s what it meant to have brothers and a team. But, why did he have to add his problems to the pile though? Why couldn't he ever be the one to take away problems? It felt like everyone had just gotten over the Kraang invasion, did Leo have to be the one to start more drama again? All he had wanted to do was keep his family from hurting, and now he had. Mikey was lovingly preparing him a fantastic dinner, and Donnie and Raph were happy for him. Heck, Raph seemed proud of him. If he could just keep this going, he could keep everyone happy and healthy. That's all he truly did want.

I'm enjoying how Leo is actively realizing that his brothers are not as dysfunctional as he imagines them to be. That they wouldn't think like that. It really adds depth into his thought process!

[birdgenetics]

I just remembered I was going to do an analysis at the end.

It was all a social experiment... I was watching, observing... *evil laugh*

Ok, but seriously, I had a few predictions going in. I figured people were going to choose as many mutations as possible, even though, as I've said, I tend to prefer wild type and a few very specific patterns. Aside from Blue and Dominant White, I don't even like any of the dilutions.

I was kind of worried I wouldn't know what to draw at the end (and my painting is probably totally off especially in the neck area) and I was also worried it would turn out mostly white. It did turn out so diluted it was almost white, but in a pleasing psuedo-dominant white way, in my opinion. We were *this* close to it having the lavender gene, which would have been just painful for me to paint.

I don't like lavender and to paint I need to enjoy it and have sufficient motivation, so thank you for not making me do that. I do think that in some forms lavender can be pretty, but I do have a special loathing for the lavender gene nonetheless. That and painting white on white. I left the background white to make it easier, but unfortunately the white doesn't really stand out very well and for that I am sorry.

For the skin color, it didn't surprise me one bit that you guys went the exotic route. I was entirely expecting that. I voted for the fibro with black earlobes for maximum contrast with the white plumage, even though red with white earlobes is one of my favorite combos.

However, I wasn't expecting pearl eyes, which in many cases are just plain white (and I prefer orangey bay.) But since the birds were fibro I made them yellow since the only example I've seen of a pearl eyed fibro had yellow eyes.

It's definitely a unique and terrifying combination and I really love it.

Overall, I am very happy with how it turned out.

E^Wh/E^Whmo+/mo+B/Bcha/chaml+/ml+Pg/PgMh/MhDb/db+co+/co+s+/s+Bl/bl+I^d/I^dC+/C+choc/chocLav+/Lav+cb+/cb+di+/di+Ig+/Ig+id+/id+W+/W+Fm/Fm

This is my imagined phenotype for this genotype: I could be totally off but I did my best!

The pearl eyes staring out of the fibro skin kind of scared me when I first drew it, not going to lie. It is an interesting juxtaposition of the very intense skin and eye color and the soft and subtle plumage...

What should we call the plumage color? I think khaki mauve necked red ginger barred is kind of a mouthful, don't you?

[ionomycin]

At the moongate, I set you free