#or at least have a longer lifespan than the others

[starii-void]

currently thinking about the mortality of the lmk gang

Wukong is immortal, he'll eventually outlive all his friends, again. even if they reincarnate, it won't be the same. the world keeps moving, but he's the one constant. is this what he wanted when he sought out immortality?

Macaque has a long lifespan. he might end up gaining immortality with Wukong too, but that just means he'll outlive the others too. he's died once and is scared of it. but he has to watch his friends fall to it one by one.

MK doesn't know what'll happen to him. is he immortal like the other monkeys? is he more mortal? does he even age? at what rate? does he even want to be immortal?

Pigsy, Sandy and Mei might have a longer lifespan, what with the dragon/monster heritage, but they're still mortal. they still age. Pigsy and Sandy are older than the others. sandy's accepted it. pigsy doesn't want to leave his son behind. mei doesn't want to leave her brother behind.

Tang is fully human. he may have inherited the great monk's powers, but he is still fully human, flesh and bone. he's older than MK and Mei, too. he's the only one that has a confirmed lifespan. they all know it'll happen eventually.

[sysig]

I also made a card for him (Patreon)

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

Y'all would not believe how hard I think abt Gwenna (if you've been here for any stage of Gwennaposting you absolutely would believe it)

[hallowxiu]

How the Brothers Would Deal with MC's Mortality

Mammon:

You casually brought it up as a joke

Probably something like “i’m here for a good time, not a long time” or “why should i care what happens in 100 years? It’s not like i’ll be around to care”

Would probably confuse Mammon at first as to why you wouldn’t be around, but he would put the pieces together in the middle of the night when trying to sleep.

A whole, eyes snapping wide opening and flinging out of his bed kind of moment.

Mammon would worry himself sick

Yes, he knows humans can die, hell, he used to mock you for being so frail when you first came to the Devildom, but now? 

Well, now things are different. How he feels about you is different

He's spending all his money on ways to keep you kicking longer. 

Anything he can think of that’ll help, he’s buying it. Vegetables, fruits, protein powder, comfortable clothes, a nice pillow, vitamins, shampoos- anything. He has no idea where to start, so he just starts grabbing everything. 

I mean, something will have to help, right? 

If you notice he looks panicked, don’t point it out, it’ll only make it worse. Unless you want to be smothered to death from his affection and worry, then by all means. ;)

Leviathan:

Look, he can barely handle his favorite anime characters dying, so you? Yeah, no, that’s way too much. 

Nothing actually popped up to remind Leviathan of your mortality, it was because of Satan throwing his books all around the house that did it. 

Suddenly, it was all he could think about. How did he not think of this before? 

Leviathan is no Satan though, and he’s certainly not Lucifer. Researching medical documents and trying to think of things to keep you alive longer are a little over his head. That being said, there were some things he could do.

Leviathan dove into his own research that would be within his realm of understanding, studying that humans who have more positive mindsets and who are less exposed to depressing forms of media, may live longer than the average person. This- this was something he could work with. 

Suddenly, you were constantly being invited to his room, Leviathan having a variety of slice-of-life anime for you to watch with him, all of which had happy endings to boot. If an anime was even remotely depressing, he made sure to keep that out of reach. 

Video games? He’s keeping it safe; he’s not risking anything here. If it’s not similar to Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, Dreamlight Valley, or The Sims (which must be on a good day), you’re just not playing it. Kingdom Hearts if you’re lucky. 

Satan:

Would do an insane amount of research 

Likely overheard the topic on a news segment about the tragically short lifespans of humans before it all clicked together.

Satan, unlike the other brothers, has never experienced death before, so while it sounds silly, he never had reason to think of you dying.

Looks up humans who had long lifespans to see how he can implement those things into your lifestyle.

Books will be littered everywhere (although that’s not really unusual, but what is would be the topic of said books- The Long Lives of Humans, Human Lifestyle for Dummies 101, The Road to Human Immortality, etc. etc.)

This is when Satan learns just how easy it is for a human to kick the bucket.

Heart attacks, brain aneurysms, strokes, seizures, cancer, the list goes on and on and it’s starting to scare him. He didn’t know humans could just drop dead. 

He’s going to start researching curses to increase your lifespan, or at the very least he’s going to make sure you’re careful as hell. 

You won’t even get as much as a cut without him being aware of it; he’s going to hover around and mother hen the absolute shit out of you. 

Try not to get too annoyed with him though, it all stems from good intentions. 

Asmodeus:

He’ll be damned if his shopping partner for life is going to die on him.

Asmo isn’t stupid; if anything he’s pretty emotionally aware. He's known for a long time just how short the lifespan of humans is.

But still, it came in the form of a nightmare. One where he couldn’t save you, despite giving his best efforts. The way you died was tragic, long before your life should have ended. 

This sent Asmo somewhat into a frenzied state trying to find things to keep you alive once he woke up. 

Vitamins, vitamins, vitamins

Humans benefit from vitamins, right? Surely you’d benefit from Devildom vitamins then. If it’ll increase the lifespan of a demon, he sees no reason why it wouldn’t increase your lifespan. 

Of course, it really only gives you nicer nails and shinier hair. 

He’s 10x more intense with your morning and night routines. 

He will be unloading all his facial creams on you, and telling you the benefits of each one and how it might add a few years to your lifespan. 

You want to stay up late at night to finish homework? Maybe watch a movie? Yeah, no, not on Asmo’s watch. 

Your ass is going to bed every night at 10pm, right along with him. You do realize you’ll be getting exactly 8 hours of sleep each night, too, right? 

Beelzebub:

Regarding his trauma with Lilith, it came as no surprise when he started to fret over your well-being. 

Poor Beel saw an article that discussed how tragically easy it is for a human to die. The cherry on top? How they could die from simply overeating. 

Overeating isn’t a concept Beel is overly familiar with (because to him, it’s never overeating), and while he knew most people couldn’t keep up with his eating habits, he didn’t think it could actually cause harm to a human, let alone kill them. 

Grocery trips are now a more anxiety-inducing event. 

He’s suddenly paranoid that any of the Devildom food could and will kill you. Are you allergic to anything? How would you even know? 

What if one day he serves you his favorite boiled dragonhead and you just drop dead at the dinner table?? No, that will never do. 

There’s a list of Devildom foods that he knows for sure you can have without dying, but then comes the issue of portion control. How much is too much for a human? 

Beelzebub swore he would never lose another loved one again, and it’s a promise he intends to keep. From now on, you will only eat what he deems safe. 

You want to try a new food in the Devildom that you’ve never had before? You better get some seriously good convincing skills if you want him to cave in. For someone who only ever thinks with his stomach, he’s surprisingly stubborn. 

Belphegor:

He’s still plagued with nightmares about Lilith, especially since he still thinks it’s his fault. Tack that on to the way he blamed you and the rest of the human race for it? The man is walking trauma. 

 Like Asmodeus, this was brought on by nightmares about you dying. Different from Asmo’s, however, you usually died by his hand. Naturally, considering your tumultuous history. 

Belphegor, unlike his brothers, takes a different approach. He just doesn’t approach you at all. 

What better way to keep your lifespan long than by staying away from you altogether? 

Is it something that he wants? Of course not! But how can he trust himself to never hurt you again? To never kill you again. 

He can’t. 

So, he locks himself away in his room, sleeping most of the day or just avoiding the areas you normally like to lounge. 

On a normal day, almost everyone in the household, including yourself, would notice this behavior change. However, since you’re now being cornered by all the brothers and their concerns about your lifespan, it’s easy for Belphegor’s absence to slip your mind. 

This hurts Belphegor, but at the end of the day, he believes this is for the best.

Lucifer: 

Lucifer didn’t need a reminder of your short lifespan; if anything, it’s something he’s thought plenty about. 

Lucifer has trauma, we all know that much. After Lilith, he’s absolutely terrified of losing another loved one to something outside of his control.

And your lifespan is not something that’s out of his control. At least not how he sees it, anyway. 

If you thought he was overbearing or overprotective before, brace yourself. He’s going to step it up several notches. 

No excess of junk food, no more pulling all-nighters, no more sitting around the house gaming all day, and definitely no more overexerting your use of magic. He’s no fool, he knows the toll your magic could eventually take on your body. 

Honestly? He wasn’t this bad until his brothers started to panic about your mortality, and though Lucifer told himself he was above such nonsense, he quickly found himself taking all the precautions they were taking (and then some). 

Fortunately, if you find yourself becoming overwhelmed, they’ll be more than willing to listen to you (granted you take some of their concerns into account).

[comatosebunny09]

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @sinsodom @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks. 

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing. 

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment. 

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon. 

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission. 

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend. 

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door. 

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again. 

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan. 

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6  (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office.  (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind. 

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.” 

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that. 

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.” 

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat. 

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen. 

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor? 

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.” 

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something. 

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused. 

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality. 

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw. 

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food. 

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look. 

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet. 

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing. 

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it. 

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much. 

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face. 

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter. 

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you. 

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch. 

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy. 

He’s still a man, though. 

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer. 

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help. 

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things. 

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy. 

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think. 

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine. 

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that. 

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look. 

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey. 

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster. 

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them. 

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it. 

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago. 

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city. 

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but. 

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing. 

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest. 

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo. 

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker. 

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about. 

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry. 

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell. 

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom. 

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances. 

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie.  (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers 

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants. 

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner. 

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin. 

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards. 

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold. 

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag. 

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name. 

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle. 

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser. 

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers. 

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig. 

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.  

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself. 

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him. 

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms. 

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak. 

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job. 

You didn’t bank on them following you. 

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute. 

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise. 

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.” 

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…” 

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back. 

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit. 

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky. 

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders. 

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder. 

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before. 

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat. 

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much. 

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone. 

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head. 

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black. 

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on.  (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes. 

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar. 

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek. 

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you. 

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words? 

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

[incorrectbatfam]

Genocide supporter.

The first time I tried to stop drinking, I quit cold turkey. I had been drinking since 2018 and wanted to be 100% done immediately, and the beginning of quarantine seemed like the right time. Back then, in my mind, a few beers at a party was no different than downing a pint of scotch alone in my apartment on a Wednesday. So when I broke my clean streak, it was a devastating mental blow. I gave up and jumped off the wagon completely, because what was the point if I couldn't achieve these exact goals in an exact way?

Things got worse when apathy and cynicism took over. I drank more. I got fired from my job and my ex broke up with me. I got involved with the wrong people in the wrong places. More than once, I've spent the night in the emergency room or a holding cell. And even though nothing bad happened, I'm ashamed to admit I even took my motorcycle out on the road. Each time, I tried the same all-or-nothing approach, because it was the ideal solution. Obviously, something wasn't working.

Then I started seeing a professional, and she told me that if I can't achieve perfection, I can at least take steps to get better.

If I couldn't stop drinking, I could at least cut out hard liquor.

If I couldn't stop drinking, I could at least leave my credit card at home and only carry a finite amount of cash, so once I ran out, that was it.

If I couldn't stop drinking, I could at least give my keys to a friend and call an Uber.

Etc. etc.

And those have been working. Though I still drink, I'm no longer doing it on weekdays or making myself violently sick. My sober stretches are slowly getting longer and I've been able to stay out of trouble. In some aspects, the damage has already been done—there are people who (rightfully) won't talk to be and I probably chopped ten years off my lifespan. But any steps toward progress is better than vying for perfection and getting nothing.

That's what people misunderstand about harm reduction. People think it's about choosing the cure, when it's really more like choosing the scale of the problem to tackle. The problem still exists and the fight is far from over. But as it currently stands, one side claims they'll be fine on the road, while the other is at least willing to hand their car keys over.

I know that this probably isn't anywhere close to a good analogy. Me frying my internal organs is nothing like the systematic destruction we're seeing in Palestine. The reality is though, we live in a system where change often involves a cumulative set of steps rather than one giant leap. That's where our participation and persistence make a big difference.

[reasonsforhope]

"In a highly-anticipated world-first, the Texas Heart Institute has successfully implanted an artificial titanium heart that uses the same technology as bullet trains to pump blood mechanically throughout the body.

Called the Total Artificial Heart (TAH), the feat is seen as a major step in keeping people alive for longer and longer periods while they wait for heart transplants.

Texas Heart partnered with the medical tech company BiVACOR to create the TAH. It’s a titanium-constructed biventricular rotary blood pump with a single moving part that utilizes a magnetically levitated rotor that pumps the blood and replaces both ventricles of a failing heart.

The benefit of using magnetic levitation is that none of the moving parts ever scrape or slide against each other, reducing friction, and dramatically increasing the longevity of the device. But what’s really cool is the TAH can pump blood at a rate of 12 liters per minute, enough to allow an adult male to engage in exercise.

The first-in-human clinical study, overseen closely by the FDA, aims to evaluate the safety and performance of the BiVACOR TAH as a bridge-to-transplant solution for patients with severe bi or univentricular heart failure. Following this first implantation completed at Baylor St. Luke’s Medical Center in the Texas Medical Center, four additional patients are to be enrolled in the study.

“The Texas Heart Institute is enthused about the groundbreaking first implantation of BiVACOR’s TAH. With heart failure remaining a leading cause of mortality globally, the BiVACOR TAH offers a beacon of hope for countless patients awaiting a heart transplant,” said Dr. Joseph Rogers, President and Chief Executive Officer of The Texas Heart Institute and National Principal Investigator on the research.

“We are proud to be at the forefront of this medical breakthrough, working alongside the dedicated teams at BiVACOR, Baylor College of Medicine, and Baylor St. Luke’s Medical Center to transform the future of heart failure therapy for this vulnerable population.”

Heart failure is a global epidemic affecting at least 26 million people worldwide, 6.2 million adults in the US, and is increasing in prevalence. Heart transplantations are reserved for those with severe heart failure and are limited to fewer than 6,000 procedures per year globally. Consequently, the US National Institutes of Health estimated that up to 100,000 patients could immediately benefit from mechanical alternatives.

The successful implantation of BiVACOR’s TAH highlights the potential of innovative technologies to address critical challenges in cardiac care, such as long transplantation waitlists.

“This achievement would not have been possible without the courage of our first patient and their family, the dedication of our team, and our expert collaborators at The Texas Heart Institute,” said Daniel Timms, founder and CTO of BiVACOR."

-Article via Good News Network, August 1, 2024. Video via 7News Australia, July 26, 2024.

[red5tars]

We should talk more about naga gaz and scientist reader who thinks her cover is good as fuck because she’s managed to get reallyyy close to his nest but nu uh. Gaz knows and he’s highly entertained watching his darling mate slowly make her way willingly into his nest and arms 🙂‍↕️

-noona 💕💕

why yes beloved noona, we should talk more about him!

just like, imagine working at some sort of research center, specializing in the study of hybrids. while some might call them monstrosities, you and your team see them as the key to the future.

unfortunately, many of them see y'all as a nuisance. especially gaz.

he's been here about a month, yet retains the hostility he has since first arriving; hissing at the doctors, curling away into the trees, and constantly breaking stuff in his enclosure. he hasn't harmed any of the researches directly, but after he snapped a log in half with ease, everyone keeps there distance.

talk about letting him back out into the wild circulates across the building, his lack of cooperation threatening any progress. and you, little junior researcher, see an opportunity. think about it, you'll be respected amongst your peers, no longer a little assistant that gets ordered around. and they'll have another test subject.

nearly everyone is gone when you enter his enclosure, the lush greens a harsh contrast to the white hallways that make up the building. it would be a serene experience if you forgot about the apex predator that inhabited this place, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"bit late to run some tests, doctor?"

a deep voice behind you makes you jump, finding gaz curled around some branch. you've only caught glimpses of him from behind the door, x-rays, and some shedded skin. none of it could compare to the beauty standing right in front of you.

his upper half is handsome, as if someone carved it from marble but what really caught your attention was his tail. the intricate pattern, shimmering despite the dim lights of the enclosure.

you almost forget that he could break your bones, too enamored by his appearance.

"i asked you a question," his comment snaps you out of it, the coldness of his words hitting you like a violent breeze.

"i-i'm not here to run any tests," you state, though gaz hardly seems convinced. if anything, he narrows his eyes, two little slits holding nothing but spite for you.

"really? then what are you here for, doctor?" it shakes you, the way he addresses your title with so much contempt. a title that isn't yours (yet), but who are you to tell him that?

"i.. i wanted to warn you. the other researchers are talking..” it's a miracle your voice stays leveled, hands trembling as you continue, "..that if you keep being uncooperative they'll throw you out."

the words hang in the air, gaz seeming to contemplate your words. rather than panic, he flashes a sharp grin, "well, that’s probably the best thing i’ve heard since i got here"

his response stuns you.

"b-but," you start, yet he already looks so disinterested, "you.. this could be bad! i mean you won't have the facilities resources or protection, and you’ve gotten so used to life here-"

"hey," he snaps, your lips closing together, "just because i'm kept in some lush prison does not make me your glorified pet," the reminder rings in your ears, embarassment warming your face.

"well, still," you say, "if they let you go it would just backtrack our research," not that anyone has managed to progress with gaz anyways, "you could advance society, lengthen lifespans, further evolution," his head perks up at that slightly.

"don't you want to be apart of that?"

his gaze hasn't softened, but at the very least his interest is piqued. you fail to realize how his eyes rove over you form, thinking about evolution.

gaz's lips curl into a grin, "well, now that you bring it up.." he begins to uncurl his tail, moving down the trunk, "you do have quite a convincing argument."

it's wrong to read it as such, but the way he glides down is nearly.. sensual. the smooth movements of his tail, his muscles flexing. as he finally makes his way to the ground, you're reminded of all the ways you two are different both in species and size.

“how about this, doctor," he's starts, moving closer towards you, "i'll be your cooperative little subject if you're the only one monitoring me." the deal makes your eyes widen. you, a simple researcher be in charge of him?

"well i-" you start, "i'm not too sure-"

"you seem a lot nicer than the others," he hums, a hand coming out to graze your face. it makes you shiver, the lack of warmth throwing you for a loop, "plus, being the sole scientist would have its perks, hm?"

a voice in your head tells you this is a bad idea, but it can hardly be heard by the applause and praise you'll get once you publish your findings, experiment with his genetics, re-define evolution.

"so what do you say, doctor?" he pulls you back in with the soft drone of his voice, deep brown eyes meeting yours, "do we have a deal?"

praise. recognition. progress.

"..yes."

——

the other researches are astounded that you, the little junior researcher they hired only months ago, managed to appeal to him. they all wonder how, but you tell them all will be revealed when you publish your studies.

if only they knew you were already conducting an experiment, the key to evolution tucked neatly into your womb.

[suiana]

@yandere-romanticaa (aaand @harmonysanreads) i have an idea for yandere jingyuan 🤑🎀

imagine being his old lover that passed on because you were a short life species. you two loved each other dearly, at least from his point of view. so when you died, he was absolutely devastated, feeling empty even though he didn't show it on his face. he's the general of the luofu after all!

he didn't try moving on. why even bother? he knows it will never work, he'll never move on. you were everything and anything he needed. so he just leaves the house you two once shared in it's old condition, pretending you're still alive and by his side, talking to an empty house.

but then one particularly boring day, you reappeared, and with the astral express no less! he was flabbergasted, wide eyed and left stunned when he saw your familiar face walk the streets of the luofu, smiling like nothing was wrong. like you didn't take his heart and left him empty on the inside.

he couldn't even do anything, couldn't even muster up a simple 'hi' because of how shocked he was with your sudden reemergence. you... reincarnated? and now you're traveling with the express now? he didn't know how to feel.

but what he did know was that he had to get you back. of course he did! you belonged to him after all. thankfully he's now more mature, more experienced. he won't make the same mistakes he did when he was younger. no, he really doesn't want to have to restrain you again. he hates seeing you cry and yell at him, you know?

so when you and the astral express approached him to help the luofu for its crisis or something he acted like how he'd treat anyone else. acted approachable, like an easy going man who wouldn't dare think of anything as nasty as kidnapping or murder. he's grown more patient and knows how to hold back now in the time he's spent without you. even if he really wants to tear out that person's eyes for even glancing at you... he knows it'll scare you away and tear down the perception of him that he so carefully built up for you. so he held back. simply laughed and smiled at you as you told him about the people who confessed to you. oh well, at least he got to see your flushed cheeks and the way you grow flustered.

i mean, that smile he always has is just way too deceptive! anyone would think he's just a lazy and kind general! and maybe even get flustered because of his charming actions!

unfortunately you got charmed.

you fell for his charms, as he expected, and even told your express buddies that you'd settle down in the luofu after you solved the luofu's crisis with them. jingyuan couldn't be happier. ah, so your love for him carried on into the next life too? he just can't help but have a smug smile on his face once you confess to him.

it's even worse when he finds out your lifespan is longer than what it used to be. maybe even as long as a xianzhou native's? he's glad the aeons have decided to reward him for his dedication to you. he really can't bear losing you once more.

he gets the house prepared for your return, all innocent and sweet as he leads you back to your forever home that you used to fight so hard to leave. but don't worry! it's all for your own good! and he won't have to restrain you this time because he got your approval of love before making any moves.

all you have to do now is love him for the rest of your lives. that's simple enough right? he'll do all the hard work, all you need to do is welcome him home with open arms and a sweet smile on your face.

all you need to do is love. him. back.

and now you've also got a son (yanqing) to take care of! why would you ever leave him? you don't want him to get all sad now, would you?

[sl-ut]

still here

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is older than y/n, but that’s never been a concern of hers until very recently.

warnings: UNEDITED, age gap (legal), swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of ageing, mentions of health issues, mentions of insecurities, angsty, i literally stole the final line from tlou s1e3

words: 2.3K

date posted: 29/03/23

(idk how i feel about this yet, the idea just popped into my head and i wrote it in about an hour and a half so don’t be too mad if its not great!)

Fifty-eight was not old. Y/n had been reassuring Joel of that since they had started dating. Maybe he was older than her, but that had very little to do with the way that she felt about him. 

His age was among his biggest insecurities. He was a man who had lived through and was hardened by the apocalypse, while she was just a child when it happened, and was able to deal with the trauma of the world ending much better due to the fact that she simply couldn’t remember any part of her life from before. The apocalypse had taken a great toll on him, both emotionally and physically. 

Twenty-odd years ago, he was a relatively young man, and a rather fit one at that. As a contractor, his body had developed and hardened from the amounts of physical labour that he was constantly performing, and while he was still physically active after the outbreak, his age made it more difficult to prevent his belly from softening and his joints from weakening. He was less willing to admit that he was insecure about his physical appearance, though he did very little to hide it. In fact, he had batted her away during their first few times having sex when she had tried to unbutton his shirt, instead choosing to stay mostly clothed while she was nearly bare. She did her best to assure him that she was very attracted to him, though it still took quite a bit of coaxing before he was willing to shed his clothes in her presence. 

Her attraction was not phased by his age, in fact, it may have been accelerated by it, though she could not deny the fact that it definitely frightened her. When she first met Joel, she was a bright-eyed twenty-year old who was morbidly turned on by the sexy fifty-year old man next door, and was wildly ignorant to the looming danger when she had started a relationship with him a few years later; the world was not built for long lifespans anymore, and there would come a day when Joel would no longer be there with her. During their early relationship, Joel warned her of exactly that, but she waved him off and promised him that it didn’t scare her.

And it hadn’t, until fairly recently. She was grateful that she, Ellie, and Joel had come across Jackson; she was able to let her guard down, socialise, and thrive in the new community. She and Joel were able to settle into their new home while Ellie set up camp in the garage out back, and they could look forward to actually living rather than basic survival. The lessened worry in her life allowed her to see what was right before her for the first time.

She had comforted Joel before when he complained about the pain in his knees and hands, though she was truly seeing the effects that it was having on him since their arrival in Jackson. Just last week, the man had nearly thrown his back out from laughing a bit too hard at something that Ellie said, and his salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have lightened considerably more. 

She had even noted his lowered libido, having gone from wanting her at least once a day to once or twice a week–though she was certain it wasn’t for a lack of physical attraction on his end, as he had been eager when she began to kiss him, only his body seemed to be working against his wants. That was his greatest insecurity yet, especially since it had begun happening on a more regular basis. He was always quick to apologise, offering to help her out in other ways, though she always assured him that everything was fine, and it was.

Everything was fine, but her fear of that changing was growing exponentially with every physical sign of his ageing. She did her best to hide her concerns, knowing that they would only be proof of his insecurities, and instead made an effort to keep him healthy in a more subtle manner, such as suggesting that he eats less red meat, inviting him on long evening strolls through the town, and forcing him to join her for long bubble baths to soothe his aches and pains. If he had picked up on this, he hadn’t mentioned it, and she could always tell when he did, because he would wave it off or do something ridiculous that would only end up proving her point.

Then came the final straw.

She was working in the gardens with Maria that day, chatting back and forth happily and they worked to tidy up the growing crops. They had become good friends in Y/n’s time in Jackson, bonding over their shared love for the Miller boys. Maria had been rambling, going on about something that Tommy had done to piss her off earlier that week, finishing her story with a shake of her head before she changed the subject.

“Oh, I meant to ask you,” the woman turned her head, “How’s Joel feeling today? Tommy told me about what happened, that’s an awful scare. At his age, chest pain is not something to be taken lightly–not to say that he’s old or unhealthy, but you know how it is.”

Y/n froze, tilting her head at the woman, “Tommy told you…chest pain?”

“He never told you.” Maria’s expression tightened, realising that the younger woman had no idea what she was talking about. She sighed, dropping her tools and turning to face Y/n as she placed her hands on her hips, “Look, I don’t mean to be the one causing issues between you two, but this isn’t something to mess around with. The other day, while Joel and Tommy were out on patrol, Tommy said that Joel suddenly got dizzy, weak, and was complaining about some pain in his chest. Now, in saying that, I know that he’s been to the doctor, and he’s probably got his reasons for not telling you.”

Y/n pursed her lips, face hardening at the sudden burn of tears at her waterline, “Yeah, I’m sure he did. When did you say this was?”

“Earlier this week. Tuesday, I think.”

She shook her head. It was Saturday, meaning that it had been almost an entire week since this happened and Joel had neglected to tell her. Y/n chose not to respond, quickly finishing up her work before bidding Maria goodnight, heading back to her shared house with Joel.

When she arrived, there was no response to her call, but Joel’s coat thrown on the back of the couch betrayed that he was home, and the soft sounds of his guitar coming from the back porch revealed his location. The strumming came to a stop as the backdoor creaked open, his eyes turning to face her with a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’-” His peaceful expression shifted to one of worry when he took her in own sombre face, “What’s the matter–did something happen?”

She shook her head, shrugging as she leaned against the railing, “I don’t know, did something happen? Because today, when I was with Maria, she seemed awfully concerned about how you were feeling.”

Realisation dawned on his features, his brows furrowing as he moved the guitar out his lap and ran a hand over his face, “Baby, it’s nothin–”

“Don’t do that,” she scowled at him, “don’t tell me it’s nothing when it’s so clearly not nothing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

She scoffed, “Fuck, you did a great job of doing that, didn’t you? What am I supposed to do when I hear from someone else that you had to go to the infirmary almost a week ago because you had chest pain? I mean, really, that’s not something to fuck around with, especially–”

“Especially what?” He challenged, already knowing what she was thinking.

Y/n stopped, debating whether or not she wanted to say it, “Especially at your age.”

He stood up and marched to the other side of the patio and rested his hands on the railing, looking out across the small backyard. Y/n could practically feel the emotions that radiated from him; a mixture of anger, annoyance, embarrassment, and shame. 

She sighed, moving to rest a hand on his back, “Joel, you know I don’t care about your age. I love you, but I need you to start taking care of yourself. This needs to be a wakeup call, I mean, it definitely is for me.”

“Why,” he huffed, “you finally coming to your senses? Finally realising that sooner or later I’m gonna–”

“Please don’t say it,” she whispered, sniffling softly as she rested her forehead in the middle of his back, “Please, please, please.”

Joel scowled, sliding away from her grasp, “About time you start to face reality, darlin’. I’m old, I’ve accepted it. Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna leave you sooner or later, huh?”

Joel escaped into the house and out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Y/n let out a shaky breath, moving to sit on the bench where Joel had been when she had gotten home, curling into herself and letting silent tears streak down her cheeks. It was only moments later when she heard her own name being called, Ellie creeping out onto the patio nervously.

Y/n wiped her cheeks, smiling weakly at the girl as she sat next to her, “Hey Jellybean.”

Ellie smiled at the name, having not heard it for a while now. She felt somewhat bad about that, having been a result of her requesting to be treated more like an adult, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was just over there, so…”

Y/n smiled at the teen, curling her arm around her shoulder affectionately, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…concerned, I guess.”

She nodded, leaning against the older female, “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

Y/n smiled at the child-like question, as if she were asking her parents if they were getting a divorce–which, to be fair, she sort of was, “Yeah, baby. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

The uncertainty in Ellie’s voice caused her breath to catch in her throat, finally thinking over the fight. Were they okay? Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna be leaving you sooner or later. Those words in themselves felt like a knife driving into her gut–was that him ending things? She had dealt with Joel’s insecurities before, but he had never blatantly told her to leave him behind, nor has he ever explicitly pointed out that he would probably die long before her. Before she could even finish her thought, her head fell forward and a loud sob escaped from her throat. 

Ellie was quick to pull her into a hug, awkwardly trying to soothe her as she wept into her shoulder. She listened to her ramble on, struggling to understand everything that she was saying, frowning to herself as she made a mental note to go after Joel the moment that she felt comfortable enough to leave Y/n to herself.

– – –

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open as she felt the mattress shift beneath her. Her foggy vision took in her side of the room, dimly lit by the lamp on her bedside table before she glanced over her shoulder, finding Joel’s back as he leaned down to untie his boots. His back cracked as he straightened up, reminding her of their fight, though she was feeling more confident that he hadn’t broken up with her considering that he had come to bed with her. 

She reached out tiredly, fingers brushing over his back as she murmured his name. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, but he didn’t entirely face her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” he sighed, finally twisting his body to sit sideways on the mattress. His own face showed signs of stress, and his eyes were rimmed with red, “I know, baby. I’m sorry too.”

Joel apologising was no small feat, that much she knew. Normally when they fought, he would give a simple you were right and do something nice for her, but it was very rare for him to actually apologise.

“It’s just…” she pushed herself to sit up, “I know you don’t like to think about this, but it’s really scary for me. I’m not stupid, I know you’re older than me and I know that there’s no stopping the inevitable–” she choked, “but I won’t apologise for trying to prolong it as much as possible.”

He dropped his head, “I know, I’m scared too. Just the thought of leaving you here all on your own…”

She crawled across the bed, smoothly working her way onto his lap and engulfing him in a tight hug. The weight of his arms around her pulled yet another sob out of her throat. His large hands found purchase on her back, sliding up and down her spine as his chest shook with his own tears. 

She pulled her head out of his neck, staring up at him with large, teary eyes. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes, “Please let me help you. I’m not ashamed of you or your age, but I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you, so please tell me next time.”

He nodded, “I’m sorry. For not tellin’ you, and for being so fuckin’ old.”

“I like you older,” she snorted, fingers stroking along his furry jawline, “it means you’re still here.”

[dripdropdown555]

The Bimbo Bounce (I’m back)

Alliteration is a useful hypnotic tool. It gives sentences a bit of extra potency, makes mantras easier to remember, and improves the lifespan of a suggestion pretty considerably. That's the operating theory, anyway. Shall we explore?

Bounce for me; that's simple enough to start things off.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

The phrase sticks, somehow, even though it sounds a little silly. Something seems to make it linger in your head. It has a unique feel to it, a quality you can't quite put your finger on. The syllables seem to echo: bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

But how does a bubbly brain behave? Like a bubble, as you'd expect, with something creating a volume of empty space inside while thoughts slide smoothly across the expanding surface, oily and slick. At first, it feels like your thoughts have more area across which to spread. Your thoughts shift slightly, glistening and growing ever more thin. At least, until the bubble pops.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

And burst it must. Bubbles are ephemeral entities, aren't they? It's alright; you'll scarcely notice. When the bubble pops, your thoughts that are currently floating on the surface will splash to the floor. The empty space inside will rush rapidly outward, turning you into a bit of an airhead. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink

Bounce, and pop.

You'll feel the splash like a sudden surge of lust and arousal coursing through your body. The rush of air inside your head might cause you to get light-headed, so you'll spread your legs to steady yourself. Of course that's what you're doing, isn't it? Steadying yourself, not putting yourself on display. Right.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Burst bubbly brains blew pink

Bimbos brainlessly bounce.

As you begin to bounce to a silent rhythm, it occurs to you that some bubbles have a kaleidoscopic sheen when you look at them, but others have a very solid color within. Your brain-bubble was bubblegum pink, now that you think about it.

Well, as much as you can presently think about anything. That pop did more than just fill your head with empty air. You can feel your intelligence leaking into the space around you, escaping...your absent brain can't contain it any longer.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

If your brain was still intact, you might think to stop bouncing so you'd be better able to think. But your brain exploded in a flash of pink and wet, and now you're as blank as a bouncing bimbo should be. You're able to understand my words out of some remnant of intuition, but if you pause to try and think them through, everything just goes pink and pops again.

Blank bimbos bounce brainlessly

That seems sensible enough, especially since bouncing feels pretty good. The splash of wet pink thoughts from the pop made your body more sensitive, perhaps by providing you with better things on which to focus. You certainly feel blank, and you are bouncing. Are you a bimbo, though?

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

A side effect of the bubbly brain from before is that you're finding all of this pretty amusing. Certain bits of sentences make you want to giggle and smile, even when you can barely understand them. Might've let too much of your intelligence leak away, but it's all just so silly, isn't it?

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

If you were a bimbo, would you be able to tell? Would you find the situation you're in far more amusing than you should? Would your body be becoming progressively more sensitive as your empty head adjusts to having no thoughts to contain and feeds all that focus to your hungry nerves? Would the bouncing be this arousing all by itself?

That depends primarily on what sort of bimbo you've become, but the answer should be clear by now. Each bounce produces a wave of pleasure, each wave pushes more of the remnants of your brains into the air. The less brains left in your head, the more you smile and giggle. The giggles produce flashes of pink that remind you how very silly and simple this is. All you did was bounce.

Bouncing blank bubbly bimbos are brainwashed

Bounces can take all sorts of forms. You can bounce bits of your body with your hands, bounce up and down in a chair, bounce with the aid of the springs below the bed...all to the same end. Everything is turning pink and wet and silly for you.

This leaves you with only two options: You could let yourself settle, riding the high of the blank bubbly brainwashed bimbo until your brain somewhat reluctantly returns to your head. I won't stop you, you'd simply wake after a few minutes of coming back down.

Or the blank bouncing brainwashed bimbo could shift the energy from bouncing just a little and satisfy that lust your body is feeling. The only real hazard is that your head is already full of air, and cumming your brains out when they've already mostly evaporated could leave you pretty dumb before it's all said and done.

But you've already made a choice, or it's already been made for you. My words could be passing by almost invisibly as the bouncing subsides, or you may already be excitedly picking a toy to bounce on or a rhythm to use while you stroke yourself senseless.

Either way, everything will fade into a yummy pink haze before much longer. I wonder how much bimbo brain you'd need to bounce away before the condition became a bit stuck...

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly

Bubbly brains are bound to burst

Burst bubbly brains blow pink bubbles

Blank brainless bimbos bounce

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

Blank bouncing bimbos are brainwashed

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

Go on, up and down, bouncing yourself all brainless and bubbly. You'll drift awake awhile after you've finished following my instructions.

Do let me know how silly, brainless, or dumb you felt...if you are comfortable expressing it, of course.

(Editors Note: I used to be @slowlymyavenue but tumblr shadow banned me so I have restarted - please follow and reblog here)

[egophiliac]

Sorry, most likely my memory being poor, but I thought Malleus' mom (don't know how to spell her name and too lazy to check how to spell it) was already an adult when Lilia ""proposed""?? Like I was always under the assumption that it was like a one-sided child crush on somebody completely out of your league you tend to have as a kid 💀

I don't think they say how old she was? although it's entirely possible I just misunderstood; my Japanese is...shaky. :') the actual line is "幼い頃に私に求婚したのは偽りか?", which I read as "isn't it true that you proposed to me as a kid?", and took as her being older than him, but not necessarily an adult (like, I was thinking of Lilia as being not quite a preteen and Mel being preteen/young teen). although I don't know if there's a connotation or something I'm missing that implies a bigger age gap, if that makes sense!

(and of course, I might also just be forgetting some other line -- if someone else knows, then please correct me! I need to know which headcanons need adjusting 👀)

BUT YEAH in a canon-y sense, Malleus is 178 and around the third-years developmentally. which makes me think that even though dragons have a way longer lifespan, they go through childhood at about the same rate as most fae (or at least the kind that Lilia is) and just kinda...slow waaaaay down once they hit adulthood. so it makes sense in my brain that he and Meleanor could've basically grown up together!

...it makes it angstier that way, anyway. :)

[bestanimal]

Round 1 - Phylum Mollusca

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The second largest phylum, Mollusca contains over 76,000 living species and somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 extinct species, including the ammonites and helcionelloids. Living groups include the chitons, solenogasters, caudofoveates, cephalopods (octopuses, squids, cuttlefish, nautiloids, etc.), scaphopods, gastropods (slugs and snails), and bivalves.

Molluscs are highly diverse, living on land, in freshwater, and in saltwater, where they comprise over 23% of all named marine organisms. The most diverse molluscs are the gastropods which comprise over 80% of known molluscs. Due to their high diversity, the only things most molluscs have in common are a soft body composed almost entirely of muscle, a mantle with a significant cavity used for breathing and excretion, the presence of a radula (bivalves excluded), and the structure of their nervous system.

Many molluscs are endangered due to collecting and killing individuals for their meat and/or decorative shells.

Propaganda under the cut:

Cephalopods are one of the (if not the) most neurologically advanced of all invertebrates and are capable of using tools, solving puzzles, and play.

Masters of camouflage, many cephalopods can change color, shape, and texture to hide from predators, sneak up on prey, and communicate with each other

The largest molluscs are the Giant Squid (Architeuthis dux), with 12–13 m (39–43 ft) long females and 10 m (33 ft) long males, and the Colossal Squid (Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni) which is estimated between 10 m (33 ft) and 14 m (46 ft) long. The Giant Squid has much longer tentacles, but the Colossal Squid is heavier, reaching a mass of at least 495 kilograms (1,091 lb). The largest specimens of Colossal Squid, known only from beaks found in sperm whale stomachs, may perhaps weigh as much as 600–700 kg (1,300–1,500 lb).

Mollusc shells make up most of the “seashells” washed ashore, and are created by the animal via secretions of chitin and conchiolin from its mantle edge. Not all molluscs have shells (ex: nudibranchs) and for some, the shell is internal (ex: cuttlefish). Mollusc shells come in many beautiful colors, shapes, and sizes.

Most molluscs have eyes, and all have sensors to detect chemicals, vibrations, and touch. Of the phyla we have covered so far, their senses are the most developed.

Conchs can look at you like this:

(Source)

All cone snails are venomous, and some of the larger species are some of the most venomous animals in the world. Even though some species’ stings are fatal to humans, their sophisticated venom has saved lives through its use in neurological research.

Humans don’t just use mollusk meat and shells, but also luxuries like pearls, mother of pearl, Tyrian purple dye, and sea silk. As stated above, many species are now endangered due to human use, but some are farmed for their meat, pearls, and shells. The farming of bivalves is more ecologically-friendly than the farming of chordates as, rather than create waste, bivalves like mussels and oysters actually clean the water.

As filter-feeders, bivalves are natural water filters. A single 5.08 cm (2 inch) clam can filter up to 10-12 gallons of seawater a day. They can even filter microplastics out of polluted water.

The largest bivalve is the Giant Clam (Tridacna gigas) which can weigh over 200 kilograms (440 lb), measure as much as 120 cm (3.11 ft) across, and have an average lifespan in the wild of more than 100 years.

Cover your ears, kids. Terrestrial slugs, which are hermaphroditic, have some of the most intimate sex on the planet. A pair of slugs will suspend from a chord of mucus, heads down, and intertwine their bodies in a tight spiral. They will then evert their penuses and entwine them as well, exchanging sperm while hanging in midair. Slug porn, narrated by Sir David Attenborough, for your viewing pleasure.

[plumbogs]

Making Sims 2 University Fun: my personal guide

I've noticed that while it's probably one of the most utilized of the expansions, TS2's university is generally seen as a slog. Which makes sense. It has a completely different gameplay loop than the rest of the game. But it's very handy to send your sims to college, especially if you use any of the various mods that limit careers based on education. So here's my big guide to making university an actual fun experience to play through (to me, at least).

The university expansion is, uh, very tailored to the 2000s college party time animal-house tropes. the pack becomes more fun when you treat it that way and let your sims be stupid young adults who streak and fool around on campus and throw parties. which, by default, is tricky because of the gameplay that requires so much skill building and assignments. which the rest of this guide will also deal with.

Note: I make some pretty big changes to normal university gameplay, to the point that it does require a bit of modding and at least one instance of fooling with simpe. there's probably also easier ways to do it, and of course everything is optional. maybe you do like keeping sims in dorms for the entire time and just three-speeding trough it all.

*mods: there are a few absolute must-have mods to me.:

TwoJeff's College Adjuster. It's basically an all-in-one controller to adjust semester timing, change semesters, plus a bunch of other features. The semester timing is the most important to me.

Active Classes is still in testing, but it almost completely changes how I play college sims. Once again, I'll detail gameplay later, but actually sending your sims to class makes for a much more fun campus experience.

No College Time Progression On Community Lots: this goes hand-in-hand with the previous mod.

Community Time: IIRC you have to do a little editing in SimPE to make it work right with University - this post explains what to edit. I don't know if I'm allowed to share the exact edit I made as a download. This might seem redundant after the last mod, but there's a reason for the madness: while one group of sims are in their active classes, the other students can do things on the home lot.

Instant Pledge for Greek Houses: This one is important for greek house gameplay, which is later.

SimBlender: There's like, 500 different edits of the SimBlender, and I think all of them have the main function needed for my college gameplay, which is teleportation. You can use a comparable teleporter if you fancy.

Simlogical's University Break is another important one for me, but it's not really necessary if you don't want it. I usually give the sims one break day per season - more on that later.

Autonomous Casual Romance is not required, but it sure adds a lot of fun to your college experience. You can also do any number of professor-limiting, custom degrees, etc mods and fixes you want.

*mods i do not use: there are mods to change the number of/length of semesters, but I seem to run into issues with them so I use the college adjuster to do the same things. I also don't really use any major overhauls, or mods that make term papers faster. I did have the tuition mod for a bit but grew tired of using it.

*general timing changes: I do seven-day seasons with longer lifespans for all sims and play rotations each day. These are the things I do specifically for university:

Four semesters: I only do semesters 2, 4, 6, and 8. Every time a new semester starts, I just use the College Adjuster to set the correct semester for each sim. I use the default length of 72 hours.

Synchronized finals: I use the College adjuster to reset the timer so the finals are all around 6-8am, and synchronized for each sim on a lot. This makes it easier to keep track of timing and skills. Also, all sims in university run on the same 3-day semester. Finals are the same day for the entire college each round. Once again, that just makes it easier for me to keep track of college-wide events for gameplay reasons.

Because this means there's 3 days per school year, and two school years per season week, it syncs better if they get a day off every Sunday using the University break mod.

Teens are sent to college on the same schedule. I send teens to school when they have 14 days or so left, with maybe an extra day or two if the college is currently in the middle of the semester.

*Gameplay: living situations: Here's where the meat begins. Now all your sims are on the same college schedule, they're all being sent to school, and now they need to actually move into college. I follow a real rule a number of colleges use: Every student spends a year in the dorms. Just their freshman year, then they have to move somewhere else. I find that this gives them a chance to meet dormies, adapt to being on college, and sorta figure out what kind of young adults they are. Plus, this gives them time for joining greek houses, which will be talked about later.

I do this because I like seeing sims as their own little characters with arcs and whatever and it forces me to think about what exactly they would be doing in college. Some sims get so frustrated with the constant mess of a dorm, some sims thrive by making friends with every dormie. Sometimes they start new drama with the others they came from high school with. Nothing quite like losing your high school sweetheart to some stinky dormie, after all.

After freshmen year, the students are kicked out of the dorms. They can get an apartment, they can rent a house, they can move into a greek house if they join one. Either way, they need to live somewhere. You can let them stay in the dorms, but I prefer somewhat smaller college households and divide them accordingly. Which gets into that whole greek house situation:

*Gameplay: greek houses. I gamify the Greek houses. I play SSU in my megahood, which comes with a fraternity and sorority, and you can do whatever setup you like there if you dislike gendered houses. Or abandon them all together and ignore this section. There are a few important elements:

Freshmen cannot live in Greek houses. They can, however, pledge while living in the dorms and move in right after their finals end. This includes dormies. There are benefits to the dorm, such as free housing, more social opportunities, usually more money per household since I cheat to make the greek houses actually nice to live in with things like pools and comfortable furniture, etc.

The Greeks have to be recruiting consistently. To keep the house going, they need to constantly be bringing in new members, either playable OR dormies.

Any recruited dormies are required to move in. You can townify them after graduation if you don't really get attached to them, but every member of the house is moved in. I use the instant pledge mod to get rid of that annoying requirement where they have to hang out on the lot so long before moving in. That, and they also move in after finals. You can teleport or invite them on and just ask them to move in. Whatever you want. Then, you must set them to be sophomores. Beyond that you can do whatever. They're playable now. Have fun.

You gotta let the Greeks party. Throw toga parties all the time and use a teleporter to maximize guests. Generally, ALL members of ALL greek houses are teleported to a party by default. Add more dormies, any friends, anybody in the dorms - the kids need to recruit and the easiest way is by forcing everyone on one lot. If you have autonomy mods or realistic alcohol, sit back and watch the madness unfold.

I don't really play wants-based, so playables that join greek houses is more based on vibes or friendship with existing greek members than wants.

*Gameplay: what do you mean we have to study??? Yeah. I made it this far before even bringing up the whole point of college. This is also where it gets a little more complicated and changed up, so bear with me.

I don't do wants-based, again, so I generally just try to make sure sims are at least passing by default. Whether they go beyond a C is up to whatever. I usually try to get knowledge sims to their 4.0s or sims that just seem like they'd take it seriously to max GPA.

ACTIVE CLASSES ARE SUCH A LIFESAVER. You can use the pre-made lecture hall or make your own. Put some skill-building objects in there, and if you like flavor theme the lecture halls around majors. I have a business/gen ed building, a science lot, and an arts lot, each with two classrooms (plus the library contains a classroom). I do believe I made an edit to the mod to make the class performance go higher with active classes, as well, so attending class every day is the bare minimum to get a passing grade.

The active class lots also contain career reward skill-building objects. These are nice because your sims can request to be taught by other sims on the lot. If you have a mod that allows non-students to visit uni lots, this helps even more with faster skill-building.

Every day, I send groups of sims with similar majors to their class. If there's a mixed-major group, each sim group gets one day in active class per semester. (So if there's an economics major, a bio major, and an art major, each one attends class on a separate rotation and the others do the normal autonomous go-to-class where they leave the lot and disappear). They attend one or both of the lectures and otherwise exist on the college lot to skill-build, socialize, eat, etc.

Outside of class, sims will usually research if they're not doing great. I honestly barely bother with assignments or term papers unless the sim actually wants to do them or are aiming for a high GPA. Maybe they go hang out at the lounge or downtown to fool around. Maybe they just fester at home. Whatever they want.

*other gameplay/storytelling things: I usually will take advantage of the aspiration change after their sophomore year if I realize that their aspiration just doesn't really jive with how they act. It's realistic to me. They had many years since being like, 13 when they first had their aspiration selected. I'd like to implement more in the way of holidays/events, personally, but that's not really relevant either. I usually give them an outfit change as well, and I like to go hard with the idea that they're going through a bunch of weird fashion phases. You know you want to give them a mohawk, just for a few days, don't you? Dye their hair red? Shave it all off? Have fun with it.

All of these things combine for me, at least, to make the college years a lot more engaging/interesting and less of a slow "move to a dorm -> study -> read books -> meet needs -> graduate" loop. There's a lot more storyline development that comes from sims being able to enjoy their time as young adults, too, such as the regular polycule jealousy explosions and party fights. It serves to break up anything they had going on as teens and give them a little direction to enter adulthood with. This concludes my little mini-guide, feel free to steal all my gameplay style or just take inspiration if you please. Or ignore it all and shake your head and call me an idiot. do whatever you want forever.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻: 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 ♥

: with liyue men! : (warnings~ obsessive behavior, the usual)

as an adeptus, XIAO has trained himself since the beginning to feel no emotions, especially one as childish as affection.

but when it becomes apparent that you favor him over the others - giving him your best artifacts, weapons, leveling him up and his talents, the fact that he never seemed to leave your party... and the fact that you still listen to his voicelines on repeat.

of course, he really doesn't understand why you want him to say such words again and again, but if you really want him too, then by all means, he'll recite it as many times as he needs too - until his throat bleeds.

it gets to a point where it's hard for him to keep a mask of calm around you, sometimes refusing to face the screen for fear of you seeing his bright red, flustered face. the feeling he gets when you appear just makes him feel warm. whole. complete. like how he should be.

and he doesn't want that feeling to end. ♥

the moment he joins your party, it seems that CHILDE will never leave your side.

he's been watching you for a while, longer than he'd like to admit. the fatui member has been entranced by you since the moment you began your adventure in teyvat - because he knew you were there. and he could barely keep himself together when you skipped other character banners just to wait for him.

maybe that meant you wanted him as much as he wanted you!!

that's what childe tells himself, at the very least.

but perhaps that's the actual truth?? his heart can't stop racing as he watches you through the front camera with his almost sparkling blue eyes, seeing how you're so desperate to have him!!

then, that means you'd recuperate his feelings, right? ♥

it's not an underestimation to say that ZHONGLI has dedicated everything to you.

he's not just an acolyte, but more of the acolyte. his past used to be a... dark topic for him to bring up - especially the mention of his passed lover, but now that he's found you, he finally has something to live for!!

so he tries his very best. after all, zhongli is quite the capable person. and he won't even have to worry about you finding out, he's quite the actor - but sometimes, even he wonders.

if he spoke to you, would you listen? would you scream? shout? cry??

he's okay with that.

as long as you're by his side, all his doubts are for nothing. but they do trouble him.

so when you mindlessly speak out of habit, busy grinding artifact domains, zhongli has to use every fiber of his being not to flush bright red. "hah... seriously, what would i do without zhongli? i literally need him to play this game... man's shield lasts longer than my lifespan..."

you...

you need him? ♥

p̶̧̟̹̹̝̺͚̺̙̣̽̇̏̐̇͛̏e̷̻̳̐̐̊̈́̆́̉͊r̴̢̝̦͙̰̠̹̀͂͋̑̑͛̈́̆̂͌̚͝f̷̧̹̮̰͖̤̫̣̖̫̿̈̚è̵̡̧͉̹̱̲̘̫̲͒̋̃̽͑̆̈͊͒͛̈́̆c̸̰͔͈̗̟̝͈̞͂̔̓̄̓̿̃̀̊̽̅͠͝t̵͇̱̭̼̝̻̘̭͎̖̳̱̩̉́̑͐͐̆̿̕̚͠͝ͅ.̷̛̰̖͎̰̜̃̌̾̈́̈́̄̏̋̌͘͝͝͠

(a/n) spspps first time writing sagau but plan on making more of this in the future so tell me any characters you'd like to see + any prompt if you want !! thank you for reading ♥

also aesthetics go brrrrrrrr

[meta-squash]

I think two of the most important things about Jack Harkness, two things that inform almost everything he does and the choices he makes, are this: that he is a soldier NOT a leader, and that his entire life since childhood has been awash in survivor's guilt (and his whole existence after becoming immortal is an even more extreme version of survivor's guilt).

Jack is not a natural leader. He can think on the fly and he's good at getting people to listen to him, but he's not good at control, or at being objective. He's a natural second in command, he's a soldier. He was brought up to do what other people told him to, and to improvise if he had to (Time Agency, etc). But I really don't think he wants to be the leader of Torchwood. Unfortunately, everything about him means that he has to be. He knows from experience that others having control over him is dangerous, others knowing about his immortality while he's a subordinate to them is dangerous, and he also knows that his own immortality gives him an advantage as a leader. But I don't think he's good at leading. He tries to be. But he's fumbling along, in a time period he's not native to and a planet he's not native to and an unfathomable lifespan, and as charming as he is I think he's often not good with people. He's detached where he should be personal and emotional where he should be detached (or at least more level-headed). He's often too extreme or not harsh enough when it comes to things like discipline or dealing with the problems/traumas/mistakes of his employees or even civilians. He can't handle his employees seeing him uncertain/vulnerable and it makes for huge problems over and over again.

But all of this does make sense because I think in the back of Jack's mind there's always this wheel spinning, these gears turning and turning and calculating the impact and trauma each of his actions or decisions or the events around him are going to have on his own emotions for far longer than normal humans tend to consider. Because the catalyst for any part of the life we see him leading is survivor's guilt. He lost his father and his brother on the same day, joined the military and lost his best friend, joined the Time Agency and lost his memories (and maybe thinks he did something terrible). Then he died, and when Rose brought him back, he was all alone on the satellite with nothing but the corpses of the people who had fought beside him and zero explanation as to why he survived, and he had lost Rose and the Doctor besides. And then all his life on earth since, he has lost coworkers and lovers and civilians he tried and failed to save and probably also aliens he tried and failed to save. And I think by the time he becomes reluctant leader of Torchwood, every action is, whether conscious or subconscious, taken with the intent of minimizing that kind of trauma and the impact of loss.

Except that I think that the survivor's guilt has another layer to it, which is that feeling of needing to sacrifice or absolve himself in some way. No one else is willing to make the difficult decisions, no one else will move forward with the painful and unpleasant actions, even if there's no other way, even though they will someday perish and no longer see the ripples of their actions. But Jack - who cannot die, who must live with the guilt or the pain or the trauma of those actions and decisions for the rest of his very very very long life - is the one who realizes that he must take on those painful responsibilities and must do certain things even though they're terrible, because it ends up being the sacrifice of one over the whole world. And every single time, he's guilty about it, and that makes him want even more to sacrifice his own hurt for the grief and loss of others.

So it's this strange cycle of wanting to protect himself from hurt and from loss and from the survivor's guilt, but being driven by guilt towards painful and/or self-sacrificing actions. Which then makes him fear being seen as vulnerable or uncertain, and he struggles to do things on a smaller scale or in a more level-headed way, because he's not supposed to be leading like this, it's not something that comes naturally, and if he makes emotional connections by being a leader, he'll end up trapped in survivor's guilt yet again each time one of his employees or friends or lovers dies.

It's just a terrible cycle and he's trapped in it for the rest of his existence. Although if he really is the Face Of Boe, then I imagine at some point he eventually finds peace with it all or something, but I think so long as he has a human-form he's stuck with this cycle of leadership and loss and sacrifice and mistakes.

I think it's really important that Jack is not good at his job as a leader. He makes a ton of mistakes, he fucks up so much and his employees or even civilians end up collateral damage, whether physically or just emotionally. He wants to be a good leader, I think, and he's trying, but he's fallible, and he's a stranger in literally every sense, and I think a really big part of his character is that he constantly is forced to live in this bizarre dichotomy where he has to be both very distant and cold and detached, and also very emotional and intense and personal. And any other person would collapse under the stress of repeating that over and over and over again for decades, but he has to figure out how to navigate this weight as an infinite existence that can't ever collapse or let it burn him up and kill him.