#genetic fitness testing

[stars-obsession-pit]

Dani, as a rule, tries to avoid hospitals. Bad memories all around. So whenever she gets injured on her wanderings, she patches herself up.

Unfortunately, even if her powers mean she can generally walk off her injuries, she’s not the best at cleaning up the aftermath. And random pools of blood are the opposite of inconspicuous.

People notice, and the blood gets tested to try to find any clues. The results aren’t always super clear—there’s some sort of foreign substance interfering with the tests—but gradually they piece together to form a more complete idea of her genes.

And then, Bruce Wayne gets a message.

He’s a probable genetic match to a series of strange bloodstains found across multiple countries.

Bloodstains mixed with a glowing green substance resembling Lazarus Water.

Did Talia hide a second assassin child from him?

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Dude you would not believe how hard I squinted at my phone trying to convince myself that I was reading that ask about Sahota and mpreg wrong. That feels so out of left field 😭😭

⌚

skdhker

It was definitely a wild (/pos) ask to get, but I had fun turning it into something that was semi-plausible for the au :D

[magnoliamyrrh]

by this point when i see balkan ppl who think the solution to things is as ethnically pure as possible ethnostates whichever way this is spun i just want to hit them square in the head with a pan. the most effective way to deal with this? yea probably not. is this what i want to do? yes.

[miaeons]

im so scared of azn beauty creams n face items now cause of my snail mucin allergy 😭 it took 2 months to clear up.... n ill nvr risk them again! but but, cushion foundations n glow serums, how do i find snail mucin free varieties? n do i wna risk it 😵‍💫🎢😱⚰️ (no)

[nugenomicsblog]

What is Calorie Restriction and Nutrigenomics?

Calorie restriction is a dietary intervention that is low in calories but maintains proper nutrition and is known to decrease your biological rate of ageing, thereby increasing your lifespan.

But any calorie restriction effort without knowing the exact amount of calories required to optimise and sustain your “basal metabolic rate” (BMR), your ability to digest food and your ability to perform physical activities will only tip the scales against your effort read more here…

[checkeredflagggs]

Credit Cards

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: max needs Ollie and Kimi out of his house — so he gives them his credit cards and a vague list

a/n: another fun one to write 😂 also I laughed so hard at this picture of him…

a/n2: ok so this was kinda requested? Imma be honest — I veered wildly of course from the actual request but I hope you like it anyway

a/n3: also a little something for @sinofwriting who saw nothing!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookie Masterlist

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and Ollie/Kimi

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user1: oh my god this was Ollie???

↳user2: if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…

↳user1: you’d guess it was Charles’ parking??

↳user2: yeah

user3: omg that’s Ollie?

↳user2: and Kimi!

↳user3: awwww that’s so cute — they’re together in Monaco?

↳user2: yup!

user4: i wonder what brought them out??

↳user5: right? Last I knew they were still holed up with max and y/n

↳user4: for my own peace of mind — I’m saying cravings

↳user5: I love that so much

user6: no blood test needed here…

↳user7: not at all

↳user8: god I hope that’s not actually genetic 😂😂

Private Messages, Ollie and Kimi

Bluesky

user9: no way 🤣🤣

user10: did someone actually buy that many diapers???

user11: this is gonna be my new Roman Empire!

user12: omg I saw this too and I swear to god it was Ollie and Kimi!

↳user13: the drivers??

↳user12: yes!

↳user13: seriously???

user14: if these ARE Ollie and Kimi — that’s hilarious. Do they understand how kids work?

↳user15: I’m guessing not 😂

user16: that’s so many — do you think y/n might be having multiples??

↳user17: we don’t actually know when her due date is…I thought, based on size, it might be soon but it’s possible she’s still early and is just having 2 or 3?

↳user18: this is so horribly invasive?

↳user19: absolutely true! It’s (more) likely that Kimi and Ollie just didn’t know how many diapers to buy

user20: god I wanna know how they’re gonna get them back to their house…

↳user21: OMG that’s such a good point — it’s not fit in their car…

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user22: big same!

↳user23: oh to be so spoiled…

↳user22: I’d love nothing more

user24: that was Ollie!! I saw him coming out of the Chanel store!

↳user25: literally start talking rn

↳user24: nothing much to say honestly — he was following Kimi I guess, who like booked it out of the store, and i managed to get a selfie with Ollie!

↳user24: he said something like they were doing some shopping for baby lion!

↳user25: Stop. That’s so adorable!

user26: are max’s adopted kids shopping for his unborn kid right now??

↳user27: that’s absolutely what it looks like

↳user26: I love that more than i can say

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user28: they’re just little kids really

user29: oh that’s so adorable

user30: I swear I saw them stop for ice cream before they went in the toy store

↳user31: well they’ve apparently been out all day — they need a pick me up 😂

user32: ok but I need to know where max and y/n are? Cause you know our chronically online queen has like alerts to her kids names?

↳user33: that’s a good point!

↳user32: she’s been suspiciously absent so far today…

user34: update! They made a bee-line to the LEGO section of the store and are now sitting on the ground comparing different racing sets

↳user35: hopefully not for the baby! That’s bad

↳user34: I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they’re buying it for themselves — Kimi keeps trying to sneak more and more Mercedes sets into their cart and Ollie is just replaced them with the Ferrari and Haas ones

↳user35: omg 😂😂

user36: ok but how do I die rn and reincarnate as a specific baby??

↳user37: same but im like asking for a friend!

↳user38: im not. I need to know for myself

Private Messages, the Pride

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @loveyahachoo @raizelchrysanderoctavius @dying-inside-but-its-classy @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @bookishprophecy

[cobbled-peach]

proposal(s)

aka: the four times Spencer thinks about proposing to you, and the one time he does

a/n: this is my first time writing/posting here pls be kind to me I just love him and I love books and I hope you love him and love books too !!!!! this hasn’t been edited much so apologies for sp mistakes cw: brief mention of sex, but nothing explicit. Fembau!reader. Lots of literature references (with books named at the end). I think this constitutes as fluff? Pre-prison Spencer, but no specific era. wc: 2.3k

darcy and elizabeth

The first time Spencer thinks about proposing to you, it’s the day you meet him.

The newest agent on the team. You’re emotionally intelligent in a way he can only dream of being.

You cradle a mug of coffee in your hands. His mug, which stuns Morgan into silence mid-sentence, his conversation with Garcia derailed by the sheer surprise of what he’s witnessing. Your mug had smashed thirty minutes earlier, an unfortunate casualty in the first-day desk unboxing. Spencer, seeing your disappointment, pulled a plain white mug from his top drawer, REID printed on the side.

He held it out tentatively. A peace offering. ‘Until you get a new one,’ he’d murmured, offering a small smile.

He’s always been wary of germs, but somehow didn’t care this time.

He watches your hands wrap around the mug. Soft, delicate, holding the item like its something precious. He wonders what it would be like to hold your hands himself. Then scolds the thought. Coworkers, Spencer.

You bring the cup up to your lips, humming in contentment after the first sip. Yor lipstick – or maybe lipgloss? He’s unsure of the correct term – leaves a gentle pink stain on the rim. He secretly hopes that it won’t wash off. He stares for a moment, and wonders, quite randomly, is this how Darcy felt when Elizabeth first touched his hand?

You set the mug down (Morgan still gaping in the background, like you’ve declared war on the Bureau’s hierarchy of personal property) and smile at him.

‘Thank you. Seriously. I desperately needed that caffeine.’

‘It’s not a problem. Did you know that caffeine sensitivity is actually inherited?’ A pause. To see if you’re listening. You are, and he suddenly wonders how appropriate it would be to stain his lips with your lipstick-lipgloss in a kiss. Not very, he concludes. ‘It’s all to do with polymorphisms in your enzymes. Its genetic; they tested it on twins.’

‘You sound well-versed in your coffee knowledge. A fellow connoisseur?’

‘I think the term “addict” is more fitting, actually. And I don’t know how much of my consumption is due to genetics over stress and lack of sleep.’

A laugh from you. He feels the sound in his chest and his stomach flips.

‘Good to know what’s in store for me,’ you tease.

‘Coffee addictions and sleepless nights,’ he replies. Then, hesitating. ‘Maybe I’ll let you use my high-quality espresso beans when it gets really bad.’

‘Literally marry me,’ you joke.

He almost says, I will.

He doesn’t, just stares at the mug like it holds the future.

2. the black cloud

The second time he thinks about proposing is your third-technically fourth date. (The first didn’t count, at least not to you. ‘You asked me to dinner to “celebrate closing the case,”’ you’d later said. ‘That’s not a date.’ He insisted that it was; he’d paid. You said so did JJ, once. Case closed.) They’re also technically not “dates” because dating within the team is prohibited, but Hotch showed some leniency.

Coffee in the park. A foolproof plan, not much room for error. He buys your drink, and you sip it beside him on the bench while he spews obscure facts about the tree you’re sitting under, intertwined with quotes from Ovid and Darwin. He offers to get you a refill as soon as you finish.

‘You haven’t even finished yours yet,’ you tell him.

‘I know. I can still get you a new one.’

‘Just drink your drink, Spencer.’ Accompanied by a fond smile.

You wander together. Conversation flows. He can’t quite explain why its so easy, why he feels so comfortable.

He’s puzzled by the anomaly, so he does what he does best: theorises. He’s been hypothesising for the past three-technically-four dates. Cross-referencing data points. He runs through the evidence, and draws the only viable conclusion:

Love.

Premature, maybe. But true.

You suggest dipping into a second-hand bookshop. He agrees eagerly, following you in like Orpheus descending. He’ll go anywhere, so long as he can find his way back to you. You disappear into your aisle; he into his. Mathematics, physics. The realm of science and fact. Only two minutes pass before you appear again, book clutched in your hand.

‘This is so you,’ you say.

It’s The Black Cloud. Fred Hoyle.

He blinks. Then again. Takes the book from your hand and turning it over like you’ve just handed him the world.

‘You’ve probably read it,’ you say. ‘But you’ve never mentioned it, and I know you like mid-century sci-fi.’

He has read it. Of course he has. But its not about the book. Its about you, thinking of him.

And you say it so casually. Like this isn’t the most intimate thing someone’s done for him.

‘You picked this out… for me?’

‘Yes.’

He turns it over again, shocked. He wants to hand you his heart, neatly wrapped in paper and ink.

‘Oh…’ he breathes out, the sound so quiet. He feels like he’s been winded, in the best way possible.

‘Not to your taste?’

‘No–’ he shakes his head. ‘No, its exactly to my taste. I think I have an older copy, but not this edition.’

‘Do you want it?’

‘Yes.’ The answer comes out before he even registers it. He does want the book. Not because he needs it, but because you picked it out for him.

You smile, gently take it back, and go to the register. He watches lamely, feels compelled to place a hand over his chest an steady his beating heart.

He thinks of Dante first catching sight of Beatrice. Of Gatsby staring across the bay. Of Gabriel and Bathsheba, paths destined to intertwine.

In the middle of the bookshop, he almost gets on one knee.

3. the hour of the star

The third time he thinks about proposing is directly after sex.

Not the first time, or the second. Somewhere in the quiet middle.

You’ve been officially together for six months. You transferred to a different department, and he asked the moment you were in your new office. (‘No interdepartmental fraternization,’ he’d quoted, followed by a nervous, ‘so, can you officially be my girlfriend now?’)

You’re both tangled beneath the sheets in your apartment, the place half his by default now. His toothbrush lives in the bathroom, his go-bag in the hallway, his own mug in your kitchen.

His copy of The Black Cloud lives on your bookshelf, annotated. He took it straight home, writing his thoughts in the margins, little notes to you. Fred Hoyle writes “There is a coherent plan to the universe” and beneath it, in Spencer’s barely legible font, is yes, and I think its you.

The book had been kept out of your sight for seven months, before he “sneakily” slipped it onto your shelf. “Sneakily,” because you watched every movement through the kitchen doorway. You’d read the whole thing that night, cried, and set to work annotating a book of your own for him.

The books are a love language themselves. If he could frame every annotated page on his wall, he would.

He’s reading aloud to you now.

It’s become a ritual. You, soft limbs and warm skin. Him, thumbing through whatever book is on the nightstand, voice a little hoarse. Sometimes it’s a play, sometimes poetry. Once, quantum physics (he didn’t take it personally when you instantly fell asleep to that).

Tonight, its Clarice Lispector. The Hour of the Star. Skin still flushed, he clears his throat and reads aloud, backed by your steady breaths. Each turn of a page is a pause in which he can press a kiss to your skin. Shoulder, cheek, temple. Wherever he can reach.

‘“Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad, because what is fully mature is very close to rotting.’” The sentence hangs in the air. Heavy. His voice stops, like he’s contemplating the words he’s just read.

You turn your head against his chest.

‘Everything okay?’

His quiet. Thinking, as always, a crease between his brows.

‘Mm.’ His arm shifts to wrap around your shoulders. ‘It’s just… interesting, isn’t it? How even the best things are fragile, maybe. Decaying.’

He doesn’t need to say “us” for you to catch what he’s referring to.

‘You think we’ll decay?’ you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow. He looks at your eyes, soft, unworried, and thinks again.

‘I think that… real things are vulnerable. We’re real. And I think that makes us susceptible.’ He hesitates, brushes some hair from your face absentmindedly. ‘Entropy. Everything tends towards disorder.’

‘Only if you don’t control it,’ you say. Factually incorrect, but he appreciates what you're saying.

And perhaps that’s it. Your unwavering faith. You’re a realist, not a romantic. Offering certainty in a world of disorder.

‘Decay isn’t death,’ you point out, continuing. ‘Its transformation, right? Compost to soil. Stars collapsing and becoming galaxies. Things can break and become something beautiful.’

His world shifts in that moment. He looks back at the line, reads it maybe 20 times in the span of five seconds.

‘We’re not going to rot, Spence.’

‘We’re not going to rot,’ he repeats. He knows it’s the truth as you press your lips to his chest, over his frantically beating heart. ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ he asks, lifting the book slightly.

‘Please.’

You adjust your position, curling into his side. He resumes his reading. He’s turning the page again when you mumble quietly.

‘We’re not going to rot, because I love you.’

Every syllable brands itself into his soul. He’s heard those three words before, but there’s something more to them in his context. He almost drops the book, catches I before it hits your head. He wants to tell you that you are his Eurydice, the person he’s always been trying to reach.

Instead, he says:

‘I love you, too.’

It falls easily. Inevitable, as always. No drama, no prelude. Just the truth, spoken to you many times before and many more to come.

He almost attaches a “marry me” to his words but instead kisses your hair and returns to the book. He’ll wait.

He already knows the ending will be worth it.

4. metamorphoses

The fourth time isn’t once. It’s every day.

You hand him coffee in the morning? Marry me.

You nurse him through a cold, unconcerned about coughing and sneezing, just wanting to be near to him? Here’s a ring fashioned out of Kleenex.

You coo over Henry in one of JJ’s photos? Let’s make one of our own. Just marry me first.

He asks Rossi for advice. (‘You’ve been married a lot, statistically speaking.’)

Garcia catches on quickly. Spencer Reid combined with search history is a concoction for whatever the opposite of “stealth” is. He looks at rings on his lunch break, tilting his computer screen like its classified information.

Pretty soon everyone knows. You remain oblivious – or pretend to be.

It’s simply a matter of when.

5. darcy and elizabeth

It’s a Tuesday. Raining.

Not a dramatic kind of rain. Unassuming. Soft and relentless, quietly soaking the world, a constant tap against the window of his apartment – now permanently shared with you.

He wonders if the rain is a piece of pathetic fallacy. A warning against his plans.

It’s four years to the day since he met you.

He had a plan. Of course he did. He was Spencer Reid. A riverside walk in the park. Take a picnic, surrounded by ducks. Bookmark a page in Much Ado About Nothing with the ring. But the weather has altered his plans, made him go off script.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Gentle touches and heartfelt gestures over big declarations, that’s what he’s always preferred. He just needs a moment.

You’re making coffee. Barefoot, hair damp from the rain that interrupted his plans. Wearing an old shirt of his effortlessly. A perfect picture of home. His home.

He stands in the doorway with a book in his hand. Pride and Prejudice. Not his favourite. Nowhere near his top ten. But it’s your favourite. You’ve worn it down with love, left your own story between the lines with annotations. And that makes it his favourite now, too.

His mismatched socks shift awkwardly on the floor.

‘Hi,’ he says, calling your attention.

You look up from the mugs with a pre-formed smile. Yours, a copy of the mug you’d smashed on your first day. His, the mug with your lipstick, now washed, but imprinted with you forever.

‘Hey,’ you respond. ‘Dry from the rain?’

He doesn’t respond. Crosses the kitchen and holds out the book. Why does it feel like a brick?

‘This is… mine?’ you say, unsure.

‘Yes,’ he confirms. ‘I added some annotations. For you.’

You open the cover. His handwriting – messy, familiar – sits below your own in black ink.

You know I am not very good with words. So, I thought I’d borrow someone else’s. Please turn to page 301.

He watches your breath hitch. Watches as you carefully flip the pages.

There’s a line. Circled not once, but many times over, holding the weight of what couldn’t be said with words.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

Beside it, tentative but certain at the same time, his writing: but if you ever choose to be bound to someone, I hope it’s me.

He’s already on one knee when you glance up. Ring held out in his hand. A quiet promise, forged from the pages of books you’ve shared and the one you’ve written yourself.

Your hands are cradling his face. He’s crying. And you’re crying.

‘I will always choose you.’ Quiet, definitive. A fact.

He slips the ring on and kisses you. Pride and Prejudice lays open in the background. Page 301. A circled sentence. A note in the margins. A love undoubted.

hi I’m super awkward but I hope you enjoyed yippee!! I thought I’d quickly mention all the books I referenced/have implied references to because I love them all and if you like literature you should read them teehee (in order because I’m super sweet) (also I know darcy doesn’t touch her hand in the books pls don’t come for me <33) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Metamorphosis, Ovid The Origin of Species, Charles Darwin The Black Cloud, Fred Hoyle The Divine Comedy, Dante The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald Far from the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy The Hour of the Star, Clarice Lispector Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare Hamlet, Shakespeare

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

You can determine the sex of a baby as early as 11 weeks with CVS. This is first trimester, a time many people agree is most acceptable to have an abortion.

you don’t realize how male centered a lot of women are once you tell them you only want to have baby girls. my female family members were so offended when i said if i were to have children i only want to have daughters.

[tiramissyoucake]

I loveeeed your characterization of omnimark it felt so mark but distinctly himself like something was different in a way that made sense

if you ever wanted to expand on it; how did omnimark and wifey meet? was it early on in his life? college? or even when did he become omniman (omnivincible?) and was his personality and their relationship initially different before some event happened?

Thank you!! I think of him as a mature version of Mark who sadly took too much after his father, less attached to his mother and more.. independent, hope you like this !! Kinda long not rlly and not exactly proof read hhhh

Maybe cw, a little manipulative.

Before Mark's powers kicked in, you were a distant dream girl. He never talked to you, you always kept to yourself and no matter how quickly he ran to your desk after class, you'd be gone. He was certain you didn't know he existed in school.

The only time you ever 'talked' to him was during a test. Of all the things he forgot, he didn't bring a blue pen with him. Fumbling with his bag and pockets, he saw a pen peek into his peripheral vision. Looking up, he saw you, a small smile on your face as you offered the pen.

It was a wordless exchange, but it meant the world to him. He kept a close eye on you since then, glancing at you in hallways, passive looks in the little classes you shared, he'd always watch you, never talk to you.

He hated the human side of himself, weak, dependant, like a comical teenage boy. He felt on top of the world when the Viltrumite in him finally kicked in, granted he had an easier time pushing aside personal affairs while listening to his father's guidance. It wasn't long before he graduated school and had to take up the Omni-man mantle after his father's disappearance.

He berated his human side for being too much of a coward to talk to you.

He was so young, but everyone knew he was the only fitting candidate for the mantle. The only Viltrumite. Although he humoured his mother's demand for college, Mark never made many connections outside of his home. He left, killed a bad guy or two, made it in time for college classes, and went home to study or unwind. During the time between high school and college, he took up exercising, starting at a local gym before moving a few pieces of equipment to his room.

Life was stable. That's the best word that he could use to describe it. Wake up, fight, class, train, sleep. Earth needed him, and he didn't need much else.

Not until he saw you again.

At first, it was in a college class where he spotted you sitting in the centre, front enough to focus, back enough to blend in with everyone else. Though after the first week, you were gone. He assumed you dropped the class; the professor seemed egotistical, and he was forced to stay because of a time conflict in his schedule.

The second time was during an attack by some no-name alien bounty hunter looking for earthling heroes. The criminal had some sort of alien DNA detecting gizmo that traced Mark's Viltrumite genetics to his university. Wrecking havoc left and right, students, professors, and staff sprinting left and right.

You were caught in the crossfire, the bounty hunter zeroed in on you, maybe civilian casualty would lure him out, and what better way than to hurl a car to paint the sidewalk red?

Fear flooded you as a shadow overlapped your form, shielding yourself with your arms as best as you could while running, the car seemed to stop in mid air, your eyes following the trajectory you thought the car grew wings and started flying, but no— it was... Omni-man's descendant.

He looked down at you as he effortlessly held the car over his head with one arm, those goggles fooled a lot of people, but you know that familiar gaze, you felt it on your back too many times during school. "... Mark?"

He's actually happy you recognised him and proud. You were always a smart girl, of course you'd notice the spineless stalker from school. "We have to stop meeting like this." He wasn't one for quips, but he couldn't help himself, flying past you to deal with the intruder on his planet, the car boomeranged back to the villain as you escaped to safety.

Days since then, he wasn't able to find you, but he wasn't worried. You always kept to yourself, you wouldn't expose his identity, he was sure of it. Although he'd be lying if he said that pesky teenager didn't come clawing his way back out of the depths of Mark's soul at the sight of you again, did you think he looked cool? Were you surprised? Do you remember when you lended him your pen?

He must've been thinking of you too much, apparently, spotting you waiting for someone outside the class you dropped, and that someone may have been him when your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

"Hey, Mark! Can we talk?"

That human side of him started squirming like an annoying bug.

.

"I wouldn't have known," You mused, propping up your cheek on with your hand. "The cute but timid Mark Grayson, a superhero?"

A chuckle escaped him, that loser version of him from school again. "My powers didn't kick in until later, so... The timid Mark Grayson was genuine, sadly." He admitted, it didn't sting as bad to say so when you looked at him with so much interest.

"'Sadly'? No! Mark, both are lovely." You smiled, lowering your hand. "I liked how geeky and sweet you were! And you look so much more... grown-up now!" You tried to find the correct words, the extra muscle definitely demanded attention. "don't worry, I've got no one to tell."

"I know." He answered too quickly. You raised an eyebrow.

"... I mean that you're not that kind of person." Regret would swallow him up later for being vulnerable. "I always knew you as a kind girl, you even gave me your pen when I never asked."

Your face was warming up, oh, he was doing good.

"I think I had a crush on you, now that I'm looking back on it." You were getting flustered as he smiled so sweetly at you. Maybe he should've been honest from the beginning.

"I'm flattered.. I never had the chance to talk to you, now I'm regretting it..!" You barely strung the words together, fiddling with your hands on the table, you paused when his hand covered your own; it felt calloused.

"We can start catching up, if you'd like?" Be suave, don't be a sweaty teenager. He's a grown man now. "Dinner? Sometime this weekend, if you're free?"

Your smile told him everything he needed.

.

It's like life couldn't get any better. On weekdays, he was a hero and student, and on weekends, he was taking you around the world for any over-the-top romantic date. His father travelled the world with his mom, and it's appropriate that he'd follow in his footsteps.

He found you first this time, in the same spot at the library. The one near the hallway leading to the obscure cafe and just a few feet away from the computer science books shelves, his hand settled on your shoulder

"Hey you." He smiled, a rare smile as he leaned down to kiss your cheek, he took the seat in front of you as you returned his smile and shut your laptop. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about this week's date."

He already had something planned, perking up. "You're gonna love what I have planned, it's kinda far but that just gives us time to talk during the trip, dinner, dancing- you'll love it."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that.." his expression shifted, you had that nervous smile on your face, one he recognized from when you were trying to accommodate to whoever was in front of you at the cost of your own comfort. "you know we don't have to travel half way across the world to have fun, right...?"

Mark sat up, eyebrows furrowed, he planned to take you to Amsterdam too. "Well, yeah. but isn't it fun? c'mon, you'll like what I have planned."

"Mark, I appreciate it, but can we postpone that? maybe we can do all of that here?" your hand caressed his, but his frown didn't move, you were trying to butter him up. The promise of next time gave him hope, he figured he'll try to indulge you this time. "I appreciate it, really, but I don't want you to feel like we need to travel to have fun or have a moment..."

You looked at him with such a submissive gaze, wordlessly begging him not to be mad at you, to remove that frown. He sighed, his hand turning to hold yours, palm to palm. "Okay. I know a good restaurant, I'm pretty sure I can get a reservation before this weekend." he relented, your hopeful smile returned.

.

Graduating wasn't a big deal for him, hero work paid him better than any job. the bachelor's degree was just some formality. you, on the other hand, you diligently got a job, got situated, and became a working member of society so quickly. He was proud of you but something felt missing, a naked layer of skin on your ring finger irked him.

"Paris?" your voice reverberated through his phone as he removed his suit. "Yeah, if you're free, don't wanna keep my successful business woman from her job." he smiled to himself as he heard you laugh.

"I can fit you in my schedule, sure." your playful tone riled him up as he changed into his civilian clothes. "Good, dress your best, I'll pick you up at 9 am."

"9 am?" you paused, that's the same time you'd go into work.

"Timezones, sweetheart." he explained, adjusting the collar of his shirt in the mirror. "It'll be well after sunset when we get there, we'll have dinner, go sightseeing, you ever seen the Eiffel tower?"

"Okay, okay! enough gloating, I'll be ready then." you agreed again. "I got a meeting, I'll talk to you later, love you!"

"Love you too." he concluded, the phone grew quiet, he glanced down at it and then set it down on his nightstand. His eyes trailed to the velvet red box, housing a ring too expensive to be a casual gift.

.

it was a corny, cheesy, sappy proposal at the very top of the Eiffel tower. and yet you looked at him so sweetly, like you were going to explode from sheer love and admiration for him. accepting the ring from him as he slid it carefully onto that same empty slot on your finger he'd been eyeing for months and kissed you with more desire than he's ever kissed you in your love life.

Naturally, it was a private wedding with only close friends and family, and you learned soon after marriage that Mark used the ring as an excuse to keep you under his watchful eye.

You had moved in together, slept in the same bed, and for a while, he let you work. He let you leave the house and sometimes dropped you off himself, but he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that you should be home, where he can keep an eye on you and keep you safe. the near death experience he witnessed you succumb to back in college was still vivid in his mind.

"No." you vehemently denied as you looked up from your laptop. "Mark, I'm not going to stop working just because I got married."

"You don't need it." Mark replied as he sat on the other end of the couch, in his civilian clothes. "I get paid enough for the two of us, and it'll keep you safe and comfortable, maybe even get you used to it for.." his fingers traced up your leg gently, attempting to put you in a good mood, or a vulnerable one. "When we finally have kids?"

your knees came up to your chest to move away from him, your laptop hugged to your chest. "Where is this coming from? I like working, I like being my own person outside of 'superhero's wife'."

He lowered his hand, he had to be smart with his response, silence filled the atmosphere for an uncomfortable moment before he continued. "... do you remember when you first saw me as Invincible?"

Your hostile stance was lowered as he brought up that time you were almost crushed. "... I just keep thinking about what would've happened if I was too late, if I took a wrong turn and took longer to get to campus." He sighed, pausing for effect before looking up at you. "Sweetheart, you would've been crushed into the pavement."

He had to prevent the smile from appearing on his features as your eyes darted down, the fear swelling again as you remembered the panic that controlled your body in that moment, how he saved you. how he saved you.

"... Mark, that was just-" He continued, bordering on desperate as he cut you off. "you work in town, sure, and I noticed that those areas... baby, they're hot spots for villains."

You couldn't doubt him, he was the hero, he knew these things and he's never lied to you before. ".... I know you're worried, but I... I should be okay, you're never too late to-"

"What if I was?" His volume unintentionally raised, not what he intended but it helped as he watched you wince. "... Please, I know I'm being selfish but can you- promise me you'll think about it? see it from my perspective?"

Your lips parted and closed repeatedly, his eyes examining you, and unnerved you into looking down. "... I'll.. mull it over later."

You didn't notice how his smile stretched further than it needed.

.

One bad day, that's all it took to get you to want to leave work and never return. Your boss yelled at you for a mistake that wasn't yours, coffee spilt on your laptop effectively putting it into a coma, and the sunny morning quickly turned to a depressing rain as you walked home, your favorite professional shirt ruined and stained by rain and grime.

Needless to say, you burst into tears the moment your husband asked 'how was work?'

After maintaining your strength for a shower and a cuddle, he listened to you vent, he watched you cry in frustration with a hand on your back and your face buried in his chest.

"I hate this! I wish I could just quit!" Your emotions overpowered any logic, but the string of bad luck and your work going unappreciated as well as unpaid overtime, a person can only take so much. Mark knew more than anyone just how fragile you are, how fragile humans are.

He hummed in response, he shouldn't bring up his previous offer outright, he couldn't just drop a 'well, you could.' At your most vulnerable. He settled to pull you closer and kiss your head gently. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You've been working so hard, it must be frustrating when it's all for nothing."

You stayed quiet, sniffling between deep breaths as he continued. "God, I wish I could take it all away." His eyes watched you carefully, seeing your eyes shift, he can practically smell the uncertainty and desire to just stay home wafting from you.

His influence was set, now all he needed to do was be a good husband. Mark ran a hand up and down your back gently, tracing shapes absentmindedly as he focused on getting you to forget about your unfortunate day. "I'll get your laptop's data recovered first thing tomorrow, okay?" He offered.

It took you a moment to respond, your moping did a number on you. "Thank you, Mark.." You sighed, sitting up and finally deciding to part from him. "I'll get dinner started."

He followed suit, sitting up with you and holding your hand. "No, no. Don't be ridiculous. You had a long day, let me handle dinner." He cupped your cheek gently as you shook her head. "No, Mark-"

"I'm all over it, I promise." He got up, letting his hands part from you. "How about Katsu dinner? I'll zip over to Japan and back faster than you can say 'Dinner'." He joked to lift your mood.

You held his wrists, assuring him. "No, please.. I need something to take my mind off of today, I think cooking is gonna help a lot."

"... if you insist, I like when you cook for me." Mark leaned closer to kiss your forehead. "Need any help?"

Your smile returned, just briefly. "No, I got it." You reassured once more. "Go clean up, okay?"

"Yes ma'am, I love you." He murmured, giving you a brief peck before the two of you parted ways. With his back turned to you, he had to withhold himself from smiling too hard. You're such a good housewife, and you didn't even know it yet.

[karmaphone]

bruh I know it's a severely understudied group of disorders but I really wish the language for differentiating between the types of eds was clearer

[captain-huggy-bear]

Little Moments

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jack occasionally making more mature jokes cause he's just a silly guy

Summary: Jack finds out he's going to be a dad for the first time, maybe he's a little overexcited aka a collection of snapshots throughout your pregnancy.

Notes: Nonnie gave me the confidence to try writing Jack, I'm hoping it's okay...also the jelly cat mentioned is here

Nappies = diapers

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

When they ask you to take a pregnancy test at the hospital because you've been violently sick for 2 weeks, you scoff. You can't be pregnant because Jack and you haven't been trying and you've been using two forms of contraception. It's nigh on impossible for you to be pregnant, statistically speaking it's just not going to happen.

It's not that either of you don't want children, god knows you do, but you're recently married and you wanted some time to settle into that role and dynamic, the new house as well, without an additional person...especially because you knew without a doubt that once you had one, Jack would want another baby, and another, and another. You'd never be just Mr and Mrs Hughes again, it would be Mr and Mrs Hughes and their children.

It's the amount of care that you've both put in to avoiding pregnancy that makes you so certain you're not. So you expect the test to come back negative.

But, there you are...sat on the edge of a hospital bed, slippers almost falling off your feet because Jack couldn't find yours so he brought you his, staring at a pregnancy test with two clear, solid lines.

Pregnant.

Pregnant when statistically it should be improbably, nigh on impossible. Pregnant when you've been married a month...pregnant because your husband is clearly ridiculously fertile. Of course Jack would be, the amount he wants kids and family, it was probably some genetic advantage. Of course you'd marry the one guy who could knock you up when actively trying not to do so.

You don't look up when he enters your hospital room, arms full of snacks and drinks, cap on backwards keeping his hair out of his baby blue eyes. He looks far too cozy and far too sweet for a man who's about to put your body through some extreme changes.

"So, I got you some M&Ms and a orange juice..." Jack trails off noticing the way you're sat, hunched over, staring at your hands, "You okay, baby?"

"Um, I..."

"What's wrong?" Jack's quick to drop everything on the hospital bed, moving between your legs, hands smoothing up and down your thighs. His eyes dip down to the test in your hands, the two strong lines he can see, so strong that there's very little doubt what the result is. The dots starting to connect for him, you being sick for 2 weeks straight, you being tired all the time, wanting to eat foods you normally wouldn't...the ridiculous amount of sex you had on your honeymoon even though you both were using protection, "Are...are you..."

"Yeah..." You finally meet his eyes, the hopefully little look on his face makes you feel mildly better because you can see how hard he's trying to contain his excitement. It's clear from the way he bites his bottom lip, from the way Jack's fingers grip your thighs to stabilise himself.

"Well, fuck..." Even as he says it there's a little smile starting at the corners of his mouth, teeth starting to show, eyes starting to crinkle.

"Yeah,"

There's a beat of silence. You processing the fact that right now there is a human being growing inside you, part you, part Jack and him watching you for your reaction. Jack can't say he's not nervous, not when you don't look overjoyed and it's that apprehension that has him trying to get a laugh out of you.

"Guess I have strong swimmers, huh?"

"Jack!" You whack his shoulder with your hand and he catches it, thumb stroking over your wedding band even as you glare at him. He can't help but stand a little closer, your legs pushing further apart so he can fit.

"What? C'mon, that's impressive right? Condoms, the pill and you still got pregnant?" He's grinning at you proudly, like it's a badge of honour to have managed to knock you up despite trying to avoid that happening at all costs.

You groan out loud, head falling to Jack's chest, forehead pressing into the centre of his hoodie. His hands come up to the back of your head, stroking over your hair soothingly before trailing over your shoulders, down your back. He's gentle, soft with it and had you been able to see you would have seen his expression shift to one of anxious worry, apprehension at your less than excited reaction.

"A...are you...are you not happy, baby?" He's scared that you'll turn around and tell him you don't want the baby, that this isn't what you want. Sure you've talked about the possibility of kids in the future, but neither of you were expecting to have this happen right now. It's a lot for anyone, especially for the person who's body is doing all the hard work. He'd understand if you weren't happy, even though he desperately wants you to be.

"I...I'm just shocked. I want a baby with you, of course I do, you'd be such a good dad...but, I guess I wasn't planning on it right now and I'm..." You're mumbling into his chest as he strokes down your back, your arms wrapping around his waist tight to give you some sense of comfort as your entire world is turned upside down by the reality that you're going to be a mum sooner rather than later.

"You're?"

"Scared...what if I do something wrong? What if I'm a bad mum?"

"Angel, look at me," You finally look up at him, chin resting on his sternum and he looks down at you like you're talking crazy, big blue eyes wide and honest, "You are going to be amazing. You're going to be the best mum...and we're going to have a baby!"

It's his excitement, the grin that reaches Jack's eyes that has you finally cracking a smile up at him. That familiar giddy sensation of joy filling your chest because you're having a baby with Jack...with your husband and yeah, maybe this is sooner than you would have liked, but you still wanted a baby with him and...and he's so excited and he's so good with kids and you'd give him an entire hockey team of babies if he asked.

"Yeah, I hope they have your eyes." You smile up at him and suddenly all that fear, all that apprehension that you weren't going to be happy about this goes, suddenly he knows that it's going to be all good, all okay.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Mmm, you have such pretty eyes."

"Well, I hope they look like you...my pretty wife....and I'll teach them how to skate, and how to play hockey, oh and take them out on the lake in the summer!"

Suddenly it doesn't feel quite so scary, with Jack rambling about all the things he's going to do with your child and how he can't wait to tell his parents and his brothers. Leaning against him, just looking up and watching how excited he is, puts to bed any fear because you're not doing this alone, you've got your husband and it'll be okay.

Jack's got you. Both of you.

"What's that?"

"The results..." The envelope shakes in your hands as Jack comes in from the cold, taking his hat off and throwing his puffer jacket over the back of a chair.

"The...the sex of the baby?" You'd done a blood test 2 weeks ago to find out the sex of the baby, too eager to wait another 2 months for the ultrasound to be able to tell.

"Mmhmmm...I'm too nervous, you open it!" You shove the envelope into Jack's hands. Even though you'll be happy with a boy or a girl, there's something about the anticipation that has your stomach in knots. Were you going to be like Ellen and have a million baby boys or would you be the exact opposite and only have girls or would you end up having both at some point?

You watch him carefully, hands at your mouth, nervously biting on a nail as he rips open the envelope and pulls out the letter. His eyes scan the text quickly, giving very little away until...until there's a shift, a raising of his eyebrows followed by a bright grin as he looks at you.

"We're...we're having a girl..."

"A girl?"

"A girl!" He's so excited that the letter is dropped to the floor almost as quickly as his own knees fall to the ground in front of you with such a resounding smack that you wince on his behalf. He's pressing his cheek to your tummy in an instant, even though it's not very large yet at all, barely a noticeable bump.

"Hey, baby girl..." You can't help the tears that start to form as Jack starts to talk to your belly, to the baby, to your baby girl, "It's your daddy here...I'm going to teach you how to play hockey and we're going to get you in the NHL, show all those boys what for, right?" Your hands find their way to Jack's hair, stroking through it as he talks to your belly, his arms wrapped tight around your hips.

"Not the PWHL?"

"Uh, we're a family of record breakers, angel. She's going to the NHL like Manon Rheaume and she's going to be there until she retires." He grins up at you, teeth showing as you brush a strand of hair off his forehead and back out of the way.

"What if she doesn't want to play hockey?"

"Then I'll love her anyway..." He turns back to your belly, talking in a soft, sweet tone, "don't worry, baby girl, you can do whatever you want. I don't care if you hate hockey, as long as you're happy..."

You can't help the tear that slides down your cheek because how lucky are you? How lucky is your baby girl? To have a dad who doesn't care if she hate everything he loves, as long as she's happy, as long as she's healthy...god, she's so loved already.

"Okay, don't look, close your eyes!" You roll your eyes underneath Jack's palms.

"You're covering them, why would I need to close them?!"

"Just do it, angel!"

"Fine!" You close your eyes beneath his palms, trusting him to keep you from walking into a wall as he guides you through the house from the living room all the way to wherever his final destination is.

"Lift your foot, baby." He helps guide you up the staircase, hands on your hips that had started to grow wider as you progressed through your pregnancy. He always had a hand on you these days. He was trusting that your eyes were still closed as he ushered you up each step.

When you reach the top of the stairs his hands return to covering your eyes and you shuffle down the corridor until he tells you to stop. You listen to Jack opening a door, probably propping it open before his hands find yours, tugging you forward and to the threshold.

"Okay, open your eyes, baby." You practically gasp when you do, Jack standing proudly in the centre of a nursery. A nursery that was empty all of one week ago, as if he'd somehow clicked his fingers and filled it in an instant.

The walls are a soft pink, stereotypically girlie but you like it, you like that he was willing to make the nursery feminine for your baby girl, just as much as you know he'd change it if your girl decided she hated pink.

The crib is set up by the window, soft curtains diming the sunshine outside just enough. The walls have photos of you and Jack, a few from the start of your pregnancy, your wedding. There are photos of the rest of the family and some empty frames clearly waiting for photos of your baby girl when she arrives. He's even put a few copies of your first ultrasound up.

There's a rocking chair in the corner next to a small bookshelf already filled with books, a space for you to sit with your baby when you're nursing or to read her to sleep when she's being testy. A changing table is already stocked with nappies, baby wipes and powder.

It's sweet and girlish and so so lovely because Jack knows you've been worried about having the nursery done even though you have like 6 months until the baby comes. He knows you've been worried it would get put off because he's away a lot for the season. You'd been stressed that the baby might come without having a space to properly stay.

"How did you..."

"I got the guys to help, last weekend when you went out with my mom. That was a distraction!" He grins at you proud of himself, "Nico, Dawson, Luke, Timo and Jesper came round, we got it all sorted. I didn't want you to be worrying about it anymore, baby."

"Is that...is that why you wouldn't let me in here?" You're feeling teary already, hormones running high and emotions always on a knife's edge. It's so so sweet that he did it, even with months left, the fact he knew it was bothering you and decided to fix it even with his busy schedule? You didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with him, but it seems he's proven you wrong again.

"Yeah, didn't want to ruin the surprise and I had a few more bits to get so it was perfect."

"Jack..." You sigh out at him, face scrunching as you try to contain your tears. His proud little grin drops, Jack thinking he's upset you and maybe he's just made you hate the entire room. Maybe it's too pink? Or not pink enough? Or do you hate the crib?

"...Oh...you hate it?"

"No, no! I love it! I love you!" You step forward quickly, wrapping your arms around him as you start to cry into his chest because how could he think you hate it? It's the best nursery in the world and he's the sweetest husband in the world. You really can't stop the tears and Jack should be used to them by now, you've been such a cry baby since you found out you were pregnant, hormones doing a number on you and making you even more sensitive.

"Oh, okay! Oh, don't cry, baby!" He's smoothing your hair down, trying to calm you, but once the waterworks start it's seemingly impossible to stop.

"It's...it's the...hormones...'m sorry..." You sob into his chest, Jack pulling you tight against him and rocking you side to side to try and soothe you.

"Hey, it's okay, angel," He can't help but laugh because he knows you're not sad now and he knows how easily you've been brought to tears as of late. Jack presses a kiss to the top of your head, staying there for a moment to breathe in the smell of your shampoo.

At least he knows you like the nursery, he thinks, enough that it made you cry.

"God, I love you, baby..." He sighs into your hair and his words only seem to make you cry just a little harder because how did you get this lucky?

"Jack..." You waddle into the nursery, now feeling so much larger than before. Quite positively and obviously pregnant and finding moving harder each month. Even simply things are harder because you have a beach ball in the way, Jack tells you it's cute and that's the only thing keep you from crying about it.

"What?" He looks up from where he's arranging some toys in the corner. He's developed an obsession with picking up any adorable toy he finds out and about to add to the collection. There's even a cuddly Fin the Orca from Quinn sitting on top of the toy box.

"Why is there a demon in the crib?" You're staring at the bright red plushie, with big elflike ears, horns, pointy teeth and a curly q tail. Trying to figure out why it's there in the first place because it certainly wasn't there yesterday.

You rest a hand on your stomach and the other on the small of your back, watching as Jack picks the weird little plushie up and makes it wave at you with its little arm.

"It's not a demon, it's our baby girl's first jelly cat!"

"Why is it a devil? A gremlin?" You're not entirely sure what it's supposed to be, definitely some sort of monster or creature and obscenely bright in it's colouring. You have to admit it is kind of cute...in it's own way...

"Uh, because of the New Jersey Devils, obviously? Why would I get our special girl something boring like a bunny?" He places the little plush back in the crib gently, patting it on the head in a way that is so endearingly sweet that you can't help but smile at him.

"She's going to be a weird kid, y'know that? You're going to make our baby a weird kid." You joke knowing fully well that you weren't actually popular or cool in school. Jack closes the distances between the two of you, leaning down to talk to your belly, like he's been doing since day one. He yaps at your baby girl none stop, whether she can understand a single word he says or not.

"Don't listen to your mother, you're going to be amazing and awesome and totally popular." He whispers to your belly, hands coming to rest on either side gently stroking your stomach over your t-shirt.

"You want our baby to be a popular girl?" You raise your eyebrows at him and he looks at you in horror like that might be the worst fate imaginable, to have a stereotypical mean popular girl for a daughter. You think it's impossible for her to turn out that way with Jack as a dad, with Quinn and Luke as uncles and Ellen and Jim as grandparents. She's going to be surrounded by so many amazing, kind people that if she turns out mean you'll be shocked. If she's popular you know it'll be because she's kind.

"On second thoughts, be a weird kid, baby girl. Be into taxidermy or something." You feel her kick his hand in response and can't help but laugh at the pair because you already know they're going to be trouble. Your kid is going to be just like Jack, you have no doubt, and you're certain you're going to be constantly amazed by them.

"You're ridiculous."

You're sighing heavily, hands firmly on your lower back at the ache there as you look in the kitchen cupboard for something to eat. You feel so uncomfortable, so heavy, so big, so achy. Everything hurts, your belly is so heavy that it forces your back to arch and as much as you love your baby girl, you really hate how she's making you feel. Even most food isn't appetising at the moment.

"You okay, baby?" Jack watches you from the kitchen doorway, leaning deliciously against the doorframe. How does he manage to look so good all the time? It only makes you feel worse because you want him but don't feel like acting on it.

"No...back hurts, belly is heavy, I can't get comfy and I feel ugly and gross..."

"First off, you've never been more beautiful," Jack frowns at you, hating that you don't like yourself at the moment. He's certain you've never been more gorgeous than now when you're carrying his baby, your baby. But, he can see it, the way you stand uncomfortable and in pain, how that must weigh down on you as your body constantly changes. "Secondly, c'mere."

Jack moves to you, standing behind your back with his head on your shoulder. His arms come around your front, hands resting underneath your belly securely and in one slow move, he lifts and suddenly everything feels better, lighter.

"Oh, fuck..." It's like he's taken 10 pounds off your spine and you can't help but sigh and lean back into him, eyes closing at the feeling because you haven't felt this comfortable in a while.

"That feel good?" Jack grins into your shoulder, happy that he's helping, happy to feel the way you relax into him as he takes the entire weight of your belly into his palms. It's heavy and he knows his baby girl has been giving you a world of aches and pains.

"Mmhmmm..." You hum, sighing deeply with each breath as he just holds you like that, letting you lean your weight back into him and feel free for a moment, feel more like yourself.

"Well, let's stay like this for a little then, yeah?" He doesn't try to move away, not after a minute, not after 3 or 5. He holds your belly for near 20 minutes until your feet hurt from standing and even then he's considering when he can do it again, when he can help make this whole pregnancy just a tiny bit easier for you.

"What are those?" You point at the tiny little outfits that Jack is currently folding on the changing table in the nursery. The clothes you doubt are going to fit into the drawers you have because he keeps buying more baby outfits, what seems like every single day.

"These?" He holds a little onesie up innocently, grey, red and black, with a little New Jersey logo in the corner.

"Yeah, those? You do know she's going to grow out of them within a few weeks, right?" You keep telling him not to buy so many baby clothes because she's going to grow quicker than she can wear them, but he seems unable to resist.

"Then I'll just buy more..." He mutters continuing to fold the next item he'd brought.

"Jack..."

"But, they're cute! Look! It's a little New Jersey Devils snowsuit!" He holds up a big puffy snowsuit and you can't help but shake your head at him because the baby is due in June and there's no way she's going to be small enough by the time it snows to even wear it.

"She's going to be too big by the time it snows!"

"But, angel!" He pouts at you so badly that you can't help but laugh. Jack's handome, pretty, adorable, always, but there's something about fatherhood, about his excitement to provide for his growing family that makes him even more adorable.

"Okay, okay...they're cute and if it makes you happy you can keep buying them..." You concede, even as you know half the clothes aren't going to be worn by your baby girl.

"Thank you, beside, if it doesn't fit her it might fit the next one." His comment has you letting out a shocked laugh and you move closer to lean into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and holding your belly.

"How many babies do you want me to pop out?"

"Mmm, like a whole hockey team? Call the Hughes' Hockey Club? The Hughes Hornets? The Hughes Harlequins?"

"You're planning on killing me with babies?" You're already imagining how exhausting it would be to grow and birth that many babies...you'd do it for him, but...maybe stopping at 3 or 4 or 5 would be better.

"No, sex, obviously." Jack frowns at you and you gasp at his commentary, whacking his chest with a free arm until he grasps it and pulls you close.

"You're such a dick!"

"Hey, you love this dick." He smirks down at you, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Jack!"

You're exhausted, 24 hours of labour has made it's mark on you. Your skin is ashy and sallow, dark bags under your eyes and sweat wetting your hair and skin to such a moistness it almost seems like you've just come out of a shower. But, you're beautiful to him, laying there with your baby girl in your arms, letting her nurse from you like that.

He's in awe of the way you shift her so naturally against your chest, the way you gentle rub the small tuft of dark hair on top of her head.

"You did so good, baby...look at her, look at you..." Jack is sat next to you on the hospital bed, he's been here for the entire labour, holding your hand and giving you water to drink. He's been amazing, and you know he'll continue to be as you face the challenges of post-birth.

He's gentle as he smooths the hair away from your sweaty face, getting the small strands out of your way as you smile tiredly down at your baby girl before looking up at him once she unlatches from your breast.

"You wanna...wanna hold her?" Your voice is raw, exhausted but no less sweet for it and Jack can't help his enthusiastic nod, arms already in position to take her like he practiced at home. His mum and dad giving him a run down with a teddy bear on how to properly hold a new born. At the time it had felt silly, now he's glad for the confidence it has given him.

You transfer your perfect little girl into his arms, sitting up a little more and shifting so he can sit with her more directly next to you. Your head leaning against his shoulder while he cradles her carefully in his arms like the most precious cargo he's ever had.

"Hey, baby girl...it's me, your daddy...God, I've been so excited to meet you. You're so perfect, just like your mommy..." Jack's finger carefully traces her cheek down to her little palm and she grips his finger tightly, trapping it in that notorious baby grip that has his eyes filling with tears, "I love you so much, both of you," He smiles over at you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead before returning his gaze back to his daughter.

She doesn't even have a name yet, but he loves her so much already. He knows he'd do anything for you, for her and that's both terrifying and uplifting. To love someone so much you'd risk it all, do anything to keep them safe and happy and healthy.

"She has your eyes," You smile up at him, comparing his baby blues with your daughter's own as she yawns in his arms.

"She has your nose, angel."

"You think?" You squint at her, trying to tell if that really is your nose developing or Jack's more button one...it's hard to tell when she's this small, this young.

"Mmm, poor kid." Jack teases you, grinning, full of excitement, happiness, contentment. His wife leaning against him, his new baby girl in his arms, a sense of humour coming back now you're not constantly carrying around an extra weight.

"Hey!"

"I'm joking, she's beautiful just like her mommy." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh into it, letting the tiredness take you knowing that Jack's got you, he's got you both.

[lackinggravitas]

yo. part four of stan if he was raised by coyotes is here :-)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3/ part 4(you are here!) / part 5 / part 6 / part 7(eventually)

ao3 vers

Here’s the plan:

DNA testing was a relatively new science in the 1970s and 80s. The science was known to be possible, but the technology wasn’t quite there yet. Also, Ford did not, for all his many PhDs, take a minor in Biology. Or have a degree in Engineering. 

All of these things Fiddleford had. 

Granted, Ford would be lying if he said part of it wasn’t fueled by the desire to see his old college friend again. Fiddleford had been the first ever true friend he made after Stanley went missing. Ford hadn’t exactly been chomping at the bit to attend Backupsmore, of all places, but he’d been desperate to go to college, to get out of the house, as soon as possible. Backupsmore provided that.

But meeting Fiddleford had made it all worthwhile. It had been so long since Ford felt there was someone he just fit with. Fiddleford shared his curiosity, his brilliance, and brought to the table his gumption and creativity, with a pragmatic attitude and hospitable personality. They’d spent many nights up late, playing DD&MD, or studying together, or just sitting on their separate beds, talking quietly as they stared up at the ceiling. Fiddleford felt like a kindred spirit, a fellow star amongst stones. They fit.

Then they graduated. Then Fiddleford got married. 

Ford had wondered often throughout his life if there was something wrong with him. As a child he reasoned that his lack of interest in the opposite sex (or even the same sex) had simply been the logical thing to do. That belief had held throughout college - why would he take precious time away from his studies to go on frivolous affairs with people he didn’t even know that well? 

It certainly worked out for most of his life. Ford didn’t know of any women (or men) who would want to go out with him. He was always viewed as strange, unwieldy, unsociable. And Ford didn’t even want romance - the idea of it held nothing for him. 

What he wanted was companionship. Someone to be there. 

He’d been happy for his friend, of course. Fiddleford really did seem to love Emma-May. It was just that-

-it was just that it was yet another reminder that Ford was abnormal. An alien in human skin. 

It was just that Fiddleford getting married felt like being left behind. It was just that Fiddleford getting married felt like a reminder that Ford was alone, that he wasn’t normal, that eventually everyone, even Fiddleford, would move on to normal, happy lives, without the stain of the freakish Stanford Pines.

So he did what monsters did best, and holed himself up in a lonely lair to hide away, until he had achieved an accomplishment, a discovery so big and so bright, it would eclipse his abnormality in importance. He would stop being Ford the Freak and start being Dr. Stanford Pines, Ph.D, the Genius. 

(When he, at the ripe old age of five, told Stanley of this grand plan (still young in the making), Stanley had just shrugged at him and, with all the simplicity that comes with being five years old and seeing everything at its face value, said, “Okay, whatever makes you happy, Sixer. Just so long as you don’t forget about me.”)

But now he had a reason to call Fiddleford up. For science- er- for Stanley!

The plan was to phone Fiddleford and invite him to leave his family for several months to create some sort of machine that would revolutionize the study of genetics, so that Ford could definitively prove that Remus was not his brother and that he was simply going mad with grief or something, and once they had that done, they could create some sort of DNA-seeking robot to hunt down Ford’s real brother and return him. All very achievable things. 

Actually, more achievable than you might think. Fiddleford picked up on the second ring. 

“You say you're tryin' to build a biochemical deoxyribonucleic acid analyzer to compare two folks’ DNA?” Fiddleford paused for Ford’s awkward, ‘Well, yes, but…’ before cutting him off, “Well that's biologically and mathematically feasible, I reckon!”

Ford let out a billowing sigh of relief. “Thank you, Fiddleford. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Hey, just so long as you ain’t planning on using it for evil!”

A beat.

Fiddleford cackled, telephone-static crackling in his laugh. “I’m just kiddin’! Science has no morals!”

Ford chuckled fondly, already feeling lighter. He’d forgotten how comfortable he’d felt around Fiddleford, how at ease everything felt - he didn’t have to pretend to be anything he wasn’t. “Quite. It’s good to see that the married life hasn’t changed you too much.” 

“Oh, hardly! It’s real boring, really- ever since Emms banned murderbots in the house,  I’ve taken to creating computermajigs to keep m’self sane! I’m like a hog with no mud to roll in, Stanferd. It’s maddenin’!”

“I’ll welcome any murderbots you wish to make here,” Ford told him genuinely. “So long as they don’t turn on us, of course.”

“What do I look like to you? A first year Engineering student?” Fiddleford laughed brightly. “I’ll see ya in a week, Stanferd!”

“Farewell,” Ford said, before the line went flat.

He set the phone down, breathing out with a small smile on his face. 

Right then.

It would take at least a week, maybe two, for Stanley’s baby teeth to arrive - Ford had tried to get his mother to pay for faster shipping, but she’d been firm in that she wasn’t spending any more money than she had to, especially when Ford wouldn’t even tell her what he planned on doing with the teeth beyond ‘it’s for science’. In her mind, if Ford wouldn’t tell her exactly what he was planning, then it clearly wasn’t urgent enough to pay the extra however-many-scents for express shipping.

Typical, really. Ford was certain that if he had told her he planned to do mystic, folklore spells with them, she would have paid for the President himself to deliver the package. Typical.

Instead, Ford was using science. Which his parents did not think was good enough. “When will you start making money, Stanford?”

They hadn’t exactly shelled out for Stanley’s search, either, he thought bitterly. If they had, maybe Stanley would still-

Ford cut that thought off, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh. It wasn’t that he disagreed with it, but he didn’t have time to spiral down that particular cold staircase of thought. It was one best explored on empty nights, with a shot glass as his only company. Right now, he had to get to work.

Stanley’s teeth would hopefully provide an adequate DNA sample to test. Ford knew Stanley hadn’t lost all his teeth before he went missing (most children slowly lose their teeth throughout all of their childhood, all the way until they’re twelve), but Ford did have the very distinct memory of Stanley accidentally smashing headlong into a fence at the dock and losing a tooth, which they had then brought to their mother.

Stanley had been very casual about the whole thing, contrasting the sheer, all-consuming panic Ford had felt at the time because, was that supposed to come out? Oh Moses, Stanley, what if you knocking the tooth out too early means the adult one doesn’t come in right? What if-

You mean I might get an awesome pirate tooth? Like a gold one or a snaggletooth? Stanley had grinned broadly, showing off a mouth that looked far more gruesome and bloody than it really ought to have. That would be so cool!

Ford had been such a nervous child, he recalled. Smart enough to know about the dangers of the world, but not smart enough to know he really didn’t have to worry about most of them. The same younger version of him had been deathly afraid of rabies (fair) and brain-eating amoebas (absolutely absurd, they were swimming in the ocean, not Lake Michigan or what have you).

But Stanley had a way of balancing him out. As a child Ford had thought Stanley must not be scared of anything, which in retrospect certainly couldn’t have been true, but Stanley had certainly always acted the part. Ford would always remember his brother to be daring and reckless, rushing into things without a moment's thought. If we’re together, Stanley had always said, then I’ve got nothin’ to be scared of. 

…he must have been so scared, alone, abandoned, at the gas station.

No. Ford had to stop thinking about this. Now isn’t the time. 

He had to… he had to set up the guest bedroom. Yes, that’s what he had to do. Fiddleford would need a place to sleep while they worked. 

Ford had a small basement he’d been thinking about renovating for more lab space, but there was no way even the impressive construction abilities of the Corduroy family could get that done in the week’s time it would take Fiddleford to arrive in Gravity Falls. 

The DNA-Machine (name pending(maybe something in Latin?)) could easily go in the living room area, if Ford cleared out some space. Ford certainly wasn’t about to make his friend sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor, so he’d have to get a bed from the mattress store. As for the room-

Fiddleford certainly couldn’t stay in Stanley’s room. That was… no. Just no. Ford had to keep that room open, for if- when Stanley returned. Letting anyone else stay in there was out of the question. 

It would have to be in the attic area then. Ford was quite certain he could convert one of the rooms into a suitable, even comfortable guest bedroom. He’d even put in a few books of his he knew Fiddleford would like, in case he wanted to pick up some late night reading - Ford and Fiddleford were both prone to restlessness in the night. 

Ford would also need to pick up some more groceries. He certainly didn’t have enough food to feed two, much less-

Oh, right. Remus. 

Fiddleford would… probably be okay with Remus, right? Ford didn’t really see the creature going anywhere in the near future, and the DNA-Machine was being built quite literally because of Remus. 

Remus certainly couldn’t sleep in Stanley’s room either, because he wasn’t Stanley. Ford may not have proved that yet, but he was certain of it nonetheless. 

Remus could sleep in his room with him, Ford decided. Remus wasn’t human, and clearly had no concept of human boundaries, and Ford didn’t mind sharing the space. He’d shared a bed often enough with Stanley, when they were young. 

There was a soft, muffled thump from down the hall, and Ford straightened, attention snapping towards the noise. 

He could hear the quiet, distinct noise of Remus walking towards the door on all fours, then begin to scratch at it, making a sound halfway between a whine and a growl. 

Ford huffed, amused. It seemed someone had woken up. 

His eyes trailed towards the clock on the wall. Halfway to 8 o'clock at night was a bit early to turn in, but by the sound of it, Remus wouldn’t let him stay awake any longer than that. Apparently it was their bedtime. 

He would get an early start in the morning, he told himself. Going to bed early meant he would only wake up even earlier than usual, maybe even avoid some crowds. He had no idea what day of the week it was - time seemed to blur together like that, when the only schedule that mattered was your own. Without school or a 9-to-5, it was easy to lose track of the days of the week, as they didn’t really matter. 

Ford moved back down the hall, not bothering to muffle his steps as he walked back to his bedroom. 

Soft growls and whines could be heard from the other, Remus’ nails creaking against the wood - Ford frowned at the thought of the damage the creature must be doing to his poor door. Or to his own nails. Perhaps it would be best to teach Remus how to use a doorknob. 

Ford waited until the scratching stopped to open the door - he didn’t want Remus to fall through it unexpectedly. He grasped the handle and softly pushed the door open.

And there sat Remus, long, curly brown hair billowing out around him, spooling out on the floor like cascading water - it was amazing how one bath could make Remus look so much better. Now he was a far cry from the ragged, scruffy creature Ford had found in the woods earlier - long, clean hair, not a smudge of dirt on him, with brown eyes blinking up at Ford with a severely unimpressed look, like Ford had personally offended him. 

It was almost funny, till the thought ‘Looks a bit like Pa’ crossed his mind, and suddenly Ford just felt tired. 

“Yes, yes,” Ford said, giving a small, tired huff of amusement, “I’m supposed to be in bed, hm?”

Remus growled softly, letting out one, sharp bark. 

“This is actually my house, you know,” Ford said jokingly, “You should be the one following my rules, not the other way around.” 

Remus growled again, starting to sound annoyed. He stepped forward, snapping his teeth around Ford’s pants leg and trying to pull him. There was a surprising amount of force in it, for an action that was all teeth. 

“Senseless beast,” Ford sniped, though there was no heat behind it. Only a fond sort of humor, at Remus and the situation both. “Very well. I see I have no choice in the matter.” 

He allowed himself to be pulled towards the bed, before climbing in himself so that Remus wouldn’t get it in his head to try and force him again. That had been unpleasant. 

Fortunately Ford hadn’t put his shoes back on after the bath, so all he had to do was awkwardly shrug off his trenchcoat and toss it to the floor, then set his glasses on the nightstand (Ford was fine sleeping in his shirt and pants - he’d done it plenty, more often than not, actually). 

Remus climbed in beside him, thankfully not on top of Ford this time. He curled up at Ford’s side like a dog, seeming pleased, either with himself or with this whole thing, Ford couldn’t tell. He definitely looked smug, though. 

“I should make you sleep at the foot of the bed,” Ford said, making no move to do so. He lifted a hand, petting Remus’ hair idly. 

Remus made a contented noise, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed. His head tipped towards Ford, welcoming Ford’s petting.

“I wonder how intelligent you are, anyways,” Ford mused. “I should run some tests on you, seeing how human-like you really are. Just because you’re not my brother doesn’t mean you’re not some other, completely human individual who happened to have grown up in the woods.”

Ford stared up at the ceiling, voice hushed. 

“Surely you can’t be Stanley, though. He was five years old - far too old to completely lose all language skills and human development. He should have been able to find a place in a human society - why on Earth would he have ever needed to- to become something like you?” 

He wouldn’t have needed to. 

Unless something horrible happened to him. 

Ford shuddered inexplicably. No. Remus was not his brother. 

Once he had his proof then he would be able to put that ridiculous, borderline intrusive notion to rest. He knew it couldn’t be true, Remus couldn’t be his brother, yet he couldn’t stop thinking it. About how much Remus looked like him, how he acted in ways that were reminiscent of Stanley, just twenty years evolved and grown. 

But it wasn’t true. Ford was certain it wasn’t true. 

(Surely he would have known if Stanley had been suffering. 

Surely he would have felt something. Some cosmic pull. A divine sign. Something.)

Remus huffed at him. Ford could hear the exasperation in it, like Remus was telling him to shut up and go to sleep already. Ford smiled faintly. 

He rolled over, pulling a pillow under his head. “Goodnight, Remus,” Ford whispered, giving Remus’ hair one last pet.

taglist! let me know if you want to be added or removed.

@ebsrahl @artistredfox @m0rkl @thesnakelord @littlelilliana15 @darsbw @raska-tmg @i-am-harmless @majoringinfanfiction @bluefrostyy @adhd-nighmare @i-am-harmless @babyblankyerror

[nugenomicsblog]

Nutrigenomics — Taking You to a Better You

The Human Genome Project of the 1990s, was the largest collaborative project in the field of biology. Through this project, researchers shed light on the structure and function of the entire DNA in the human genome, which enabled jump-start a whole new world of sciences, such as Nutrigenomics read more here..

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Meep

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader (no pronouns just uterus implied)

Warnings: Tokophobia, Self deprecation, Dehumanizing kind of language about a fetus lol Morty is cursing his balls for actually working

The news to you, had begun as a bought of sickness.

Mortarion had panicked, worried that his strict decontamination protocol had failed and somehow you'd gotten a pathogen from him, or from something he'd given you. He'd cast suspicion to the new dress he'd gotten you as a gift, vowing to burn it for its perceived transgressions.

You'd quite quickly reassured him you didn't feel that ill, and that it came in waves; like a sour stomach more than a sickness. He still didn't relax, and likely wouldn't until he had a baseline medicae look you over.

He hadn't been there at the time, his men needed to update him on various things concerning his legion- a significantly more important task- and he left you to your check over with the promise that you would update him.

It had been a quick and easy endeavor; You had gotten your diagnosis after a few quick questions, and a blood test.

Pregnant.

It... You had never even considered the idea beyond the overly romantic and at times erotic wandering your mind would do. You don't know why you didn't perceive it as an option; Mortarion is a man, a human one, technically- but you'd never considered this risk. It surely didn't help that Mortarion treated and spoke of his body as if it was broken by various experiments and genetic meddling anyhow.

His return to his quarters was hasty, knowing you would be waiting with whatever news you were given in the time of his absence. When he entered, he soon saw you sitting on the massive bed underneath its canopy.

You insisted on adding it, and Mortarion allowed it after a short bit of pleading. He wouldn't admit it, but he appreciates it now; he enjoys the feeling of security the curtains give his bed as he lays with you surrounded by them. Like a den.

"What did they say?"

His voice was more worn, tired. He'd spoken a lot today. Multiple coughing fits and hours of conversation have rendered his voice more harsh than usual. The hesitation that you exuded worried him however, as you wrung your wrists. He was on a knife's edge before he saw your face soften a tad as you prepared to speak.

"I'm pregnant."

You could see the shock spread across his face, his eyes darting around your face as if somehow still confused. Once it settled more, sinking in his mind like debris in a lake, he stepped closer to you as his ruined throat whispered roughly.

He sounded... Dumbfounded.

"I didn't think..."

He seemed confused, almost upset- you were worried for a moment, until he spoke again a bit louder and clarified the turbulence in his mind.

"I... I am sorry."

"I did this to you, I put that in you, I- I didn't think I even could-"

He shocked you with the sudden overwhelming headiness of guilt he exuded. His hands weighed heavy in your lap as he sank to his knees in front of you. His head hung low looking at your belly, and ever since the word of your condition left your lips, he hadn't looked you in the eyes.

He spoke as if the child inside of you was a parasite, a disgusting abomination he had inflicted upon you.

"Please forgive me, I can remedy this. I promise you I will fix this, I won't have you suffer such a disgusting sanguisige for my own ignorance."

You slipped your hands into his thin hair, feeling it against your skin. He showed little reaction, consumed by his own prostration.

"Mortarion..."

Your brow furrowed, watching his face contort with self hated. His hands tightened on the fabric of your skirt but not enough to damage it.

"I had no intent to do this, to make you carry such a creature, I will f-" You dared to interrupt him before he continued more, the rasp of his dry throat roughing his words like the most course sandpaper.

"Tari, what is there to fix?"

He froze, looking at you confused. You tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear and smiled.

"Now that the surprise is over, i couldn't be happier." You lost that smile a bit, remembering snippets of things he's told you of his past.

"With the way you always spoke about your body, I," you made sure not to mention his name- Necare- and ruin the moment.

"I didn't know if it was possible. But," You laughed. "It is."

Mortarion looked at you wide eyed, hands still in your lap gripping your skirt. His prostrating ended as you kept talking, watching sheer disbelief cross his face. He seemed so shocked that you weren't sobbing, weren't crying for him to tear the embryo out of you before it grew and latched tighter to your body like a leech, and cursing him for the sheer gall of him to impregnate you.

In reality, you were excited.

"Recently, I've been thinking about having a baby. I wonder if it was fate. Or maybe someone telling me I'd gotten my wish and just didn't know quite yet." You brushed your palm against his cheek, watching his glassy, disbelief filled eyes gaze at you.

"I hope they look like you, Tari."

[pforestsims]

I'm a fan of traits & trait mods and I really liked Atomtanned's mod /based on Dill's Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs/. This is quite an extensive edit - I just wanted to adjust it a little for my game and once I started I couldn't stop xD

Atomtanned's Trait-Based Chemistry EDIT

& (optional mod) ONLY TO Chemistry

⚡ Download: SFS ⚡BOX

11.11.2024 third UPDATE of Chemistry Mod. Fixed: Loner not triggering Introvert TO, Alien genetics trigger Alien TO correctly, Facial hair TO triggers correctly, Hats do not trigger Intellect TO, Cologne doesn't trigger Occult TO. Thanks for the fixes go to @episims . Correct file has "Update3" in the name

*Archive contains PDF file with detailed list of changes (added / removed stuff) and a few notes.

🟢 Trait-based Chemistry mod edit is available in 7 Languages: English, German, Finnish, Polish, Swedish, Russian, French

❕ New stuff: added Facial Hair TO (replaces Daydreamer), Business Shark TO (was: Serious), Expressive TO (was: Unique). Increased hobby and interest requirements from 5 to 8 pts, Formal wear added to Stylish TO - and more...

I also included an optional mod that switches off Zodiac / Aspiration chemistry and balances out the chemistry bolts gain - so it makes chemistry betwen Sims much less complicated. Obviously it will only be useful for those who like to control every aspect of their Sims romantic lives. Details under the cut.

You'll need Traits /and stuff required for these to work/.

Credits: @atomtanned , @lilbabydilljr , Epi for their TO replacements, @lazyduchess for Lua script

@peanuttysims for No Zodiac & Aspiration attraction (MTS2 link)

I used TS4 icons, icon mashups/ edits, and my own.

Thanks: @tvickiesims , @vegan-kaktus , @lilakartoffelbrei . Special thanks to @episims for all the support 💎🤗

*This is for The Sims 2

More under the cut:

NOTE: My mod edit has been in testing for a while and it seems I've managed to fix (with the help of Epi and Ramblin) all of the issues. However If you'd like to have a go at making your own TO chemistry edit, I recommend you base it on a mod by Fran/CuriousB rather than this one.

Trait-based Chemistry mod

It will replace original TS2 turn-ons and turn-offs with entirely new ones (only hair colors and fitness/fatness are unchanged!).

It conflicts with NickM406's No More Loading the * Family mod , and Tunaisafish’s Attraction Fix, make sure you don't have tunaisafish_fix_attractiontraits package in your Downloads.

🟢 It's compatible with mods that change /or switch off Zodiac chemistry, Aspiration chemistry, or both.

❕ TO-RELATED ATTRACTION DOES NOT UPDATE IN REAL TIME If you place new Trait in your Sim's inventory, it doesn't work right off the bat. You can try to force the bolt update by making Sim change appearance, loose/gain weight.

In original version of this mod, cologne (perfume) triggers occult TO - Epi created a fix for it, BUT it might have a temporary side effect - occult Sims may get cologne flowers effect (once). You can remove fx with Batbox or force Sim to reset, either with cheats of with any posebox that has 'snap reset' or 'reset' option, like the posebox by Decorgal ❕

⚡TURN-ONS / TURN-OFFS:

Note: I've added and removed some stuff, for example Plantsims and Bigfoot from 'Occult' TO, and Zombies from 'Undead' TO!

(This is an edit of the list posted by Atomtanned: )

Adventurous: 3 vacations, Adventurous, Daredevil, Sailor, Brave

Alien: Trait, skin, eyes

Animal Lover: 2 pet friends, Animal Lover, Cat Person, Dog Person, Equestrian

Artistic: Artistic, Avant Garde, Photographer's Eye, Savvy Sculptor, Flower Arranging/Pottery/Sewing silver badge, Arts & Crafts hobby, Creative skill

Athletic: Athletic, Equestrian, Loves to Swim, Sports/Fitness hobby, Body skill

Business shark: Born-salesperson, Ambitious, Mean Spirited, Snob, Workaholic

Charismatic (charisma): Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Charisma skill

Cultured (bookish): Avant Garde, Bookworm, Film & Literature Hobby

Expressive: Excitable, Childish, Party Animal, Dramatic, Over-Emotional, Diva

Facial hair

Fitness / Fatness - original

Foodie: Natural Cook, Cuisine hobby, Cooking skill

Hair colors - original

Indoorsy: Bookworm, Computer Whiz, Couch Potato, Hates the Outdoors, Film & Literature Hobby, Games Hobby

Infamous (bad reputation): Bad Reputation*, Evil, Mean-Spirited

Intellect (high IQ): Genius, Logic Skill

Introvert (reserved): Brooding, Loner, Unflirty, Shy, No sense of humor, Grumpy, Socially Awkward, < 2 Outgoing personality points

Laid Back (slacker): Couch Potato, Mooch, Slob, < 2 Active personality points

Musical: Natural Born Performer, Star Quality, Virtuoso, Music & Dance hobby

Occult (mystical): Werewolf, Witch, Fairy, Mermaid, Supernatural Fan

Outdoorsy: Angler, Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors, Sailor, Gardening badge, Fishing badge, Nature hobby

Outgoing (social): Irresistible, Flirty, Natural Born Performer, Party Animal, Social Butterfly, > 8 Outgoing personality points

Plant Lover: Eco-Friendly, Gatherer, Green Thumb, Vegetarian, Flower/Gardening badge, Plantsim, Fairy

Rebellious: Daredevil, Inappropriate, Hot-headed, Rebellious.

Stylish (elegance): Snob, Diva, Irresistible, Cosmetology badge, Fashion interest, Formal wear

Technology: Servo, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Robotics silver Badge, Mechanical skill

Tidy: Neat, Cleaning skill, > 8 Neat personality points

Undead: Ghost*, Vampire

Well-Liked: Good reputation*, Friendly, Good, Proper, Nurturing.

*"Ghosts" = sims turned into playable ghosts, with Ghost trait (and Mermaids are sims with mermaid trait, but ofc you don't need these to be able to use this mod).

*Known issue: Servo (as such) doesn't trigger this TO. That has been fixed.

🔸 Hobby requirements in Dill's / Atomtanned's versions (as well as interest) were set to 5 points, which is kinda an average in my game. I don't want TOs to trigger too easily so I've increased these to 8 points, just like Skill point requirements.

Update: I've removed One True Hobby checks, so now only actual hobby enthusiasm points matter for triggering TOs.

I also increased good reputation requirement from 30 to 60.

Above is the comparison of original vs new TOs, in the exact order.

FYI I've fixed the little mistake I've found in the mod - in my version stylish TO works as it should.

If you have any questions about how the game calculates attraction, read this.

And here's free version (SFS) of my buyable ReNuYu potion default, will be useful if you'd like to correct TOs for all your Sims.

"ONLY TO Chemistry" mod

Conflicts with No Zodiac Chemistry by Belladovah , chemistry mods by Peanutty (it incorporates their "No zodiac and no Aspiration"mod) and any other that contain Attraction Constants BCON and Attraction Tuning BCON.

In unmodded TS2 game, interests and skills do not play part in attraction. Trait-based chemistry changes that only to some extent because Zodiac and Aspiration are more important. To make TOs the crucial attraction factor in my game, I disabled Zodiac / Aspiration Chemistry, and tweaked bolt requirements.

This mod makes chemistry between Sims straightforward and TO-based however various bonuses to attraction also apply (!), like Beauty Wish, Vacation bonuses, bonus for very good rep or penalty for extremely bad reputation (even if your Sim likes bad guys, they will be put off by Dirty Dirtbag status, and enticed by extremely good rep). Anyways, if you use this mod and your Sims have no other attraction bonuses, then:

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has none, it results in no bolts

if one Sim has two turn-ons towards the other, and the other has none, Sims have one bolt chemistry

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has a turn-off, it results in negative chemistry

if a couple has single turn-ons towards each other, it gives them one-bolt chemistry

couple has three turn-ons, that gives them two bolts

couple has three turn-ons, one turn-off, that gives them one bolt

couple has double turn-ons, they have three-bolt chemistry

Special bonuses granted by mods for certain Traits like the "irresistible" still matter of course.