#sim: Rose Blush Wonder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simslegacy5083 · 8 months ago

Text

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (8/23/2024) Episode: Gaming and Goodbyes

As everyone settled down for dinner after Skye aged up, Luigi snagged a seat across from Jade and wasted no time launching into 20 questions.

"I'm one of the only sims around here who believes in The Watcher" he told her, "other than some real crackpots on the internet anyway." He shuddered. "So, what's it like for you, living under their direct influence? My Papa always said The Watcher could control just about anything but if that's true the one around here has a sick sense of humor!"

He then went on to describe some of the many misfortunes that had befallen him and Noemi in the past.

"Oh…my…that's a lot " was all Jade could think to say when he'd finally wound down. Well, Isra did warn me… she thought before responding.

"I don't think our Watcher controls everything. For example, my mom's friend Summer died quite unexpectedly recently, it was really hard on her. Being a legacy family may mean The Watcher keeps a closer eye on us, but in general more crazy things happen when we're around, not less!"

"Do you know the legacy family here?" she asked "Isra and Par haven’t heard of one, but I thought The Watcher had favorites in every nation.”

"Well, actually…" Luigi began, before Noemi cut him off. "No. We've never heard anyone even mention a legacy family." she said, glaring at him.

Jade could tell she'd stepped in something with her question, though she wasn't sure what. Now more ready than ever to extract herself from the awkward conversation she rose "It was nice chatting with you, but I think I'm going to go inside and get out of this heat for awhile."

"Hey! If we’re going inside, I’ll fire up the gaming console and start the real fun.” Rhys said. "Anyone else ready to join us?”

“You know that’s my jam." Luigi stood too, causing Jade to suppress a groan. At least if we’re playing he’ll stop talking so much! she thought.

“My foot has a prior appointment with Darth’s ass," Beau chimed in “Just give me a minute to visit the bathroom for the hundredth time today first."

After a great session of gaming with the chatty e-sports pros Jade was almost sorry to see them off at the end of the night. “It was great to meet you, kid” Luigi told her. “Sorry about all that doom and gloom earlier. I have a tendency to get wrapped up in myself, but you were a trooper about it, and a pretty good video gamer to boot! If you decide to explore a career in E-Sports look me up, I can introduce you to some people.”

“I’ll do that” Jade fibbed, trying to be nice despite having no interest in becoming a professional nerd herself. “It was nice to meet you too.”

“Luigi, I know you believe yourself to be a legacy heir the same as Jade's sister and mother do, but we both know that isn't a "thing" here." Noemi reminded him once they’d returned home. "I thought we agreed we were going to keep that little piece of Lawbourne lore to ourselves."

Luigi sighed "I know. I just got so excited meeting someone from another legacy; I got carried away. Thank you for reining me in, as usual."

"Happy to do it" she chuckled “now, how about you get Skye to bed while I get started on my latest side project? This one wants all their phone icons updated to penguins! The things sims come up with to do with technology…"

"Thank you again, so much, for having me. I had a blast!" Jade gushed the following morning. "I've got the pictures we took, the gifts you made for everyone, and your donation for Sims United in my inventory. I'm sure everyone will love them."

"It was so wonderful to see you again" Wren smiled "I'll be stalking you on social media; I can't wait to see those graduation photos!"

Isra chimed in, “All Elyse wanted to talk about this morning was how much she loved hanging with "silly Auntie J!“, making Jade blush happily.

"I'll be sure to send along any fun kid appropriate memes I find for you to share with my little nieces and nephew.“ After one final hug and kiss she headed towards the teleporter that would take her home, her family watching her retreating back until she blinked out of sight.

Once Jade had disappeared back to her homeland Isra’s quietly weeping par buried their face in her shoulder and whispered, “It was wonderful to see her, but so hard to watch her go.”

“I know” Isra agreed “You want to come home with me and give your grandbabies a snuggle?"

Wren nodded, grateful for Isra’s loving support as they stepped out into the warm paradise of a sunny Sulani day.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

13 notes · View notes

writer-of-various · 2 years ago

Text

ɪ'ʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʀᴜᴅʏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ : ᴅᴇᴠɪʟꜱ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ

"The subject appears to be handling MK Ultra well, the process [Redacted] and [Redacted] are making is guaranteeing a breakthrough. Other sleeper agents didn't last this long, they never pulled through. But this one, she's strong, stubborn. Too bad her tough will is reacting to MK Ultra to our advantage. But the consequences are something I fear. I think there is another way, there always is another way. I'm sorry."

- Sims, L.

March 02, 2024

1230

Shadow Safehouse

A few weeks have passed since Rudy’s return from the hospital, and he has been feeling better. He started training a week ago, his skills more advanced than the Shadows and he rose through the scoreboards, the Shadows showering him with admiration and loyalty. Graves knew this was good, the steps in his plan never failing and he decided to cut Rudy some slack, letting the man accompany him on errand trips around the small town they situated themselves in. No one was stupid enough to question Graves, they kept their mouths shut for the safety of themselves and any loved ones. The mere presence of Phillip Graves, tall and menacing and mysterious, never drew anyone inside besides Rudy, and it's why the American liked the sergeant major.

Rudy has potential, he has leadership skills and a wonderful personality that his Shadows liked during their brief time working together with Los Vaqueros. There's many reasons why Graves did what he did, but the one that stood at the top of the list was his undeniable and sincere love for the younger man. Not just his body or his skills but his personality, his smile, his laugh and the way he blushes so easily and the way he'll bend backwards for those he's loyal to. Graves knew after the blue on blue attacks Rudy wouldn't ever be loyal to him, so he did some research and managed to make up a whole operation, easily getting higher ranking individuals in national security and the US Armed Forces to fall to his charismatic spell. The mission he made to send 141 to Belgium was easy, but he knew those bastards won't go down without a fight, so he made sure to hire some mercenaries with big weapons to dismantle 141. When the deed was done he captured Rudy and made way to interrogate him first after learning 141 managed to get away. With Rudy being even more loyal than a dog, and torture not working, he once again turned to the research he gathered. He didn't feel confident that the process would succeed, it worked on one person in the 1980s (someone he knows dearly) and he isn't sure if it would work on Rudy. He did it anyway, and the results didn't disappoint.

Besides the greatness Rudy brought to the Shadows, Graves had some issues he needed to take care of. With 141 still running about and likely searching for their sergeant major, Graves decided to have some fun. He would take subtle pictures of Rudy, glimpses and pieces that he prints and sends through mail to 141, to one safehouse he knows of due to Rudy giving the location to him. He can imagine the looks of horror 141 have on their faces, Alejandro's veins popping out in his temple and he rages, the solemn quietness of Ghost, the sad look in Soap's eyes as he probably rambles in Gaelic, Gaz would try being the source of comfort but his own emotions would grow too heavy to deal with, and Price. Oh he wants to see Price's expression, losing his best man because he wasn't a good captain. He makes sure the captain knows that too.

Today is a different day for the Shadows, it was their first mission after a short break to get Rudy trained under their standards and ensure there's no fuck ups in the middle of a battle. The target is Makarov, something Graves and 141 have in common, but mostly because the Russian bitch killed his men during a mission months ago that left Graves hungry for revenge. With Rudy by his side, the Shadows are even more unstoppable.

Makarov has a worker in Liechtenstein that should be dealing some big illegal weapons to some clients and Graves wants to disrupt that ordeal, capture the worker and client, and get any intel. He did good on missions, everything went smooth and on his side, unlike his time with General Shepherd. He's glad he killed that lazy bitch. And Shepherd has refused to help him get Rudy, going as far as saying some racist shit about Rudy that Graves didn't like and when he doesn't like something, well, he gets rid of it. He's a man of guarantees, and he'll be lying if he said there weren't devils inside of him hungry for blood.

"Sir, we're ready to leave." Oz is a big man, tall and menacing with his rough looks, but Graves and the other Shadows knew how much of a soft teddy bear he can be when he wants to be. He's Graves' de facto, the temporary commander of Shadow Company while Graves got back on his feet and dealt with Shepherd, who would have left him for dead in Mexico.

"Alright, go get Rook and we'll be on our way." He orders, grabbing his bag and swinging it over his shoulders, watching as Oz saluted him and left down the hall.

Oz found the new member easily, Rudy is just sitting at the table in their kitchen and staring at his hands. Oz remembers seeing the younger male on the second day of his arrival to the safehouse, bruised and skittish and Mila had complained all day to him and now, Oz can see her point. Perhaps his commander is losing his mind or just gone full immoral, but he also knows Graves, he knows he can trust the man's judgment.

"Hey Rook, we're heading out." He calls out, and Rudy looks over at him, silent but he nods and stands and walks over to him, his movements robot-like, like a puppet being manipulated.

"Where's Graves?" Rudy's soft voice breaks Oz out of his trance, his head tilting down the hall where the team was waiting for them.

"About to head outside right now. Let's go." He guides the smaller male back to Graves, watching closely as the commander wrapped an arm around Rudy's waist and pulled his close, whispering into the other man's ear. Like a switch, Rudy's posture straightened and his eyes turned hard, nodding at Graves and following the other Shadows out when Graves gave the command. Oz's brows furrowed together but he lets this slide, they have a mission to complete.

March 02, 2024

1523

Vaduz, Liechtenstein

"The target is Anton Orlovsky, we have intel he is a trusted gunman for Makarov. He's making deals to a Dutch arms trade, they traveled to avoid attacks in their respective nations. They're fucking idiots for doing the obvious." Graves paces the platform of the carrier, everyone looking up at him with their full attention. It's a mission they've been waiting for, a mission that puts them one step ahead of other military units wanting Makarov's head.

"Mila, Oz, you two are providing scout support, get yourselves at a high place with your snipers trained and guiding the ground team. Shadow Air Dogs 2, 3, and 4, keep us in your sights, you are our spies in the skies. Ground team is with me. Let's get this motherfucker!"

"Yeah!" The Shadows exclaim, going to their respective tasks. The back of the carrier dropped down and the ground team got off, Oz and Mila rushing past them to get to a high ground.

"Alright Shadows, let's get this mission outta the way!" Graves leads them out of the forest area they landed at, their guns hiding under their clothes as they walk into the civilian world. Rudy silently observes the people walking about, looking for anyone suspicious, but the sight of children playing in parks or tugging at their parent's hands had his gut churning.

"Rook, stay focused." Graves whispers into his ear, startling him briefly. He looks up at the commander before letting his eyes trail back to the children, a silent conversation going between them. Graves follows his gaze, frowning before shaking his head, his eyes hardening and blank of emotion. "We have a job to do."

Like a switch once more, Rudy's mind goes empty, his brain losing its moral and rationality. He follows behind Graves as they peek into alleyways, the ground team splitting to look inside shops, their regroup location back at the carrier unless shit goes sideways. Rudy spots a man with a beard and a blue cap talking on the phone, his gestures wild and face angry, and the accent lacing each word heavy and rough and Slavic.

"Graves, Orlovsky." He whispers, catching the older man's attention. They watch as Orlovsky pace around the not so busy sidewalk before hanging up on the phone and turning around, facing the alleyway and walking down it. Rudy and Graves quickly follow, peeking over the wall to see a van parked in the dark shadows, Orlovsky talking to some men. Rudy leans closer, catching what they were saying.

"The client isn't showing up. Pack up, we go back. Makarov is not going to be happy." Orlovsky growls out, the men moving around to grab the crates set around the van and putting them back in. Rudy takes out his silenced pistol, nodding at Graves who covers his back.

"Hey assholes!" He calls out, getting their attention. They don't have time to react, Rudy is firing two bullets in each man's chest and head, leaving a shocked Orlovsky standing in the middle. The Russian raises his hands over his head, his face contorting to one of annoyance.

"Fuck." He grunts as Graves walks over and punches him. He nearly falls but Rudy is holding him upright while Graves cuffs his wrists together, stepping back so Rudy can slam the large man against the van door, leaning up to whisper against his ear.

"Where is Maakrov?" He orders an answer, but Orlovsky chuckles mockingly, flicking his gaze down to Rudy.

"You are like scared kitten." He taunts, and it's his first mistake. Rudy hooks a leg around him and twists his body, knocking the Russian to the ground. He straddles his waist, putting his full weight, and starts punching him, knowing Graves would stop him if Orlovsky's head started to cave in.

"He won't stop unless you give us a solid answer, commie." Graves says with light amusement as he watches his supersoldier go crazy on the enemy. Blood splatters everywhere as each punch cracks teeth and cheekbones and breaks his nose. Each punch lands closer to his neck, the balled fist promising to break his trachea, and Orlovsky coughs and slaps the concrete below him. Graves tugs at Rudy's collar, the smaller man stopping his assault and standing up, glaring down at the Russian as he tries to catch his breath.

"O-okay, okay! Makarov is in Georgia, he hasn't given me location of safehouse. He won't, gun client didn't show up, so no sale, no more me." Orlovsky groans out, flinching when Graves growls and punches the van door.

"Fuck! You're coming with us, Red! Tell him the deal was made or something." Graves commands and all Orlovsky can do is nod, surrendering himself. Rudy lifts him to his feet and shoves him inside the back of the van, locking the doors once he shuts them. He gets in the driver seat, hot wiring the car and Graves gets in beside him, sighing.

"It went better than expected at least" Rudy tries to lighten the mood, and luckily it worked. Graves smiles softly at him, nodding.

"Hey Rudy...I'm sorry about letting my anger out on you the first day you came back. I just, after that mission, seeing you hooked up and going under at the hospital, I really thought I was going to lose you. I can't live without you, Rudy, you are my everything." Graves whispers, sounding so heartbroken that Rudy can't help but melt at how soft Graves really is. He leans over and kisses his boyfriend gently, running a reassuring hand against his chest.

"I love you, Phil. You won't ever lose me." With that, Rudy leans back and drives out of the alleyway, going to regroup with the others once Graves gives the order to go back. When they get there, the Shadows are waiting, Mila seeming to be in a deep conversation with Oz. Rudy narrows his eyes before getting out of the car, helping Graves push Orlovsky I to the carrier. The Shadows unload the van and carry the crates to the carrier, Graves taking anything that looked important and taking it with him.

Rudy grabbed a gasoline container and began to pour it in and out of the van, an empty expression on his face. He grabs his lighter and sets the van ablaze before walking back to the carrier. The old Rudy would have thought about the people he killed, they were brothers, uncles, husbands, sons. But he feels no sympathy, no remorse, just the need to burn and hurt. He must protect Graves, even if it meant hurting the innocent.

The devils on his shoulders praise him.

When they get back to their safehouse, the Shadows are briefed and free to do what they pleased. Many went to their rooms to get sleep or shower, few staying downstairs to do whatever. Rudy and Graves retreat to their room, the younger man going straight to the bathroom and turning on the shower. He starts to undress, feeling the presence of Graves behind him, those blue eyes watching his body.

"Can I join ya?" He asks, voice low and it sends shivers down Rudy's spine. He turns around, eyelids lowered seductively and he steps closer to the American and trails one of his hands down the bullet proof vest.

"It'll be a shame if you don't, sir." Rudy purrs, smirking when Graves hurriedly removes his clothes, those bright blues piercing through his skin. When he's naked, Graves corners Rudy against the sink and slams his lips against his, rough hands gripping onto his hips. Rudy hums into the kiss, guiding them into the shower, sighing when the warm water hits his back. Lifting a man twice his size, throwing him around and beating him– it took all of Rudy's strength and weight. He's small, he's shorter than most of the Shadows, his build is slimmer and curvy, but he knows how to pack a punch.

"Fuck– you're so gorgeous, darling" Graves growls out against his mouth, his lips trailing down Rudy's jaw and sucking on his neck. Rudy mewls softly, arching his back beautifully as he tugs at Graves' light brown hair.

"Fuck me, Phil. Fuck me hard and fast" Rudy growls and the older man grins. He pushes a finger into Rudy's entrance, curling the digit against tight walls. Rudy moans softly in pleasure, tilting his head back as Graves slowly adds in another finger, going deeper to tease Rudy's prostate.

"You're so tight, Rudy" Graves mumbles, his cock aching painfully as he just wants to pound into the slender body. Rudy seems to get inpatient, rocking his hips down against the fingers, looking up at Graves through wet, long lashes.

"I need more, Phil. Please" He begs and Graves can't hold back any longer. He slides out his fingers, shoving them into Rudy's mouth as he uses his free hand to stroke his erection and place the leaking head against Rudy's hole. He moans as Rudy sucks on his fingers, tasting himself on them and those slutty moans make him thrust in, his libido taking control. Rudy gasps at the intrusion, pleasure tingling down his spine like a shockwave, wrapping a leg around Graves waist to pull him in closer.

Graves grunts at the tight heat enveloping him, taking him in so sweetly that he has to still himself when he bottoms out, trying to hold back the urge to come so fast. God, the things Rudy does to his body.

"Oh fuck, Phil" Rudy moans out, breathing heavily as he tries grinding against him for pleasure. When Graves deems himself okay, he doesn't hold back anymore. His thrusts are animalistic, torturing Rudy's prostate, his heart beating faster and heat torching his body at each lewd noise that escaped his lover's mouth. Rudy wraps his other leg around him, Graves hoisting him up and shoving him against the shower wall, pounding into him. They don't care if they're disturbing the others, they don't even acknowledge where they are at. It's just them, embraced in each other's heat and lust and love. Rudy clings onto Graves like he's his lifeline, and it's because Graves is. Without Graves, there is no Rudy. Without Rudy, there is no Graves.

They belong to each other.

Right?

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw22 #phillip graves #rodolfo parra #graves x rudy #phillip graves x rodolfo parra #writer of various' works #shadow company #mk ultra

1 note · View note

scarlet-ancunin · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I have a request for a Desire fluff story! I think it would be really cute if the reader took Desire stargazing :D Maybe the reader brings blankets, or a picnic! Just really fluffy and cute. I hope you are doing okay, please take care of yourself♡

-anon

aw okay no problem my friend

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The Stars In Your Eyes

Desire was resting on their red couch laying on the side. at the moment they were... Bored. Of course that changed when you called them at a very late time.

they appear before you in your home and smile "hello my love, funny you called me now I was rather bored" they said walking past you and noticing the basket and a picnic blanket along with a big sports bag. "going somewhere?"

"oh yes, I am with you so let's get going" you giggle and rushed out of your house with them. It was a long walk but as you both walked you lean over to kiss them on the cheek or they would have little rose petals float around you making you laugh and hold their hand.

Once you reach the top of a hill you admired the scene before you. the tress bustle lightly to the light wind and the sound of crickets was heard. and you set the blanket up and pull out a lantern that looked very fancy and lights it and placed it at the head of the picnic blanket before opening your sports bag and setting up two pillows and an extra blanket in case it does get cold.

Desire watches you wondering what exactly were you planning and blush lightly when you look at them "well it's not much but it is a surprise date and well... I wanted to show you something I think you will like" Desire sat beside you on the blanket and placed the picnic basket on the side.

"Thank you my sweet," they said softly before leaning close and kissing you passionately. you let your eyes fall shut the moment their lips met yours and wrap your arms around their neck.

You took out some fruits in a container, a little plate of simple sandwiches. Desire smiles and started to feed you some of the fruits and you pour them both a glass of wine.

as the night progressed you looked up and finally saw it smiling brightly. "look up love the best part is finally here" you said holding their hands and watching them look up their eyes widen slightly seeing the stars in the sky "this is beautiful."

you shift so you were resting against their chest while they looked up you were watching them though, their eyes sim to glow just like the stars in the sky it was remarkable even. you reached up and touched the side of their face and they looked down to meet your gaze smiling at you now.

you watched them lean a bit lower to meet you halfway and kissed you softly and pulled away. "this was lovely my sweet always giving me things when that's supposed to be my job" you both share a soft chuckle.

As you both pull away it was just in time for you and Desire to admire a shooting star you describe what it meant and soon said "so what did you wish?" you asked cutely and Desire smiles "I want you to remain by my side that is my wish" you sat up to look at them and moved to sit on their lap smiling at them.

the moonlight was shining down on the area you were sitting and the pale moonlight glow seem to reflect nicely against Desire's skin, like the perfect being they were. as the lantern light slowly started to dim and die down only the shadows of you both was seen as you shared another kiss.

Desire felt your desire which let them know what your wish was.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Taglist: @justaproudslytherpuff , @sherazyjade , @adryanscott , @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 , @happilydangerousworld , @harlekin6 , @supermegapauselouca

#unhinged desire simp #desire #desire headcanons #the sandman desire headcanons #the sandman desire of the endless #desire of the endless #the sandman desire #the sandman #the sandman desire of the endless x reader #the sandman desire x reader #desire of the endless x reader #desire x reader #desire x you #desire x y/n

29 notes · View notes

anneliesembsims · 1 year ago

Text

Disclaimer: I received free packs as part of the EA Creator Network

Rose Blush pulled herself up to stand, and just in time for her birthday!

#EA Partner #ts4 #sims 4 #wonder rainbowcy #Berry Sweet Sims #wonder gen 8 #sim: Rose Blush Wonder

4 notes · View notes

thehyunmemorial · 3 years ago

Text

task #001 , questionário de desenvolvimento

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

E nas arenas treinando é possível ver Jung Seung Hyun, ou Alexander Chamberlain Jung!! O que sabemos sobre ele é que é um semideus romano e que tem trinta anos. Outra coisa que as ninfas nos contaram é que Hyun é extremamente bom ao usar suas adagas gêmeas mas isso é esperado dos filhos de Belona. Hyun tem uma grande semelhança com o mortal Kim Jun Myeon (Suho), mas isso é apenas a névoa agindo.

Nome do personagem: Jung Seung Hyun (Nome coreano), Alexander Chamberlain Jung (Nome ocidental)

Idade: 30 Anos

Data de nascimento: 10/05/1991

Signo (se quiser adicionar o ascendente e a lua, pode!): Touro, ascendente em Áries, lua em Escorpião

Local de nascimento: Londres, Inglaterra

Qual acampamento frequenta: Acampamento Júpiter. O Acampamento Meio-Sangue ele frequenta mais para trabalho ou para ver alguém.

Qual seu parente divino: Belona

Em caso de personagem romano/que more no acampamento romano, qual coorte: IV Coorte

É seguidor de algum deus? Se sim, qual: Não, mas considera-se seguidor de Nêmesis

Qual foi sua primeira missão: A sua primeira missão foi escoltar um senador para uma reunião com um semideus fornecedor de produtos em Los Angeles.

Qual foi sua última missão: Auxiliar um grupo de ninfas a buscar seus pertences perdidos.

Quando bebe néctar, qual sabor sente: Chocolate quente com marshmallow e canela

Qual arma o personagem usa: Adagas Gêmeas

Tem alguma maldição ou benção? Se sim, quem deu e o porquê: Tem benção de Nêmesis. Nêmesis abençoou o Jung depois que ele conseguiu provar a inocência de seu filho, após receber a sentença de morte por um crime que não cometeu.

Qual o maior vício do personagem: Chá

Qual mito é o favorito e por quê: Hades e Perséfone, pois lhe faz acreditar que existe um amor para todos.

Qual o hobby: Fotografia e ler.

Se pudesse ser filho de outro deus(a), quem seria e por quê: Não seria.

#akmshqxp #☪ ⎯ ❝ musing #☪ ⎯ ❝ inspo #☪ ⎯ ❝ task #☪ ⎯ ❝ development #☪ ⎯ ❝ aesthetic #☪ ⎯ ❝ edits

2 notes · View notes

homestuck-headcanonymous · 5 years ago

Text

2weetheart2

a/n: this is part of the tiktok au, so sollux is a famous twitch gamer and feferi is a tiktok star in a presumed “love triangle” with eridan ampora, a commentary youtuber and brother of cronus ampora the famed tiktok eboy, and sollux. this one takes place a little later in the timeline, so they’ve all graduated highschool

disclaimer: i’ve never seen a twitch stream, because my computer can’t handle it.

stream: “tiime to bully 2mall chiildren on fork kniife with the boy2″, August 14, 2020, by users twosquared, coolerthanu, toreadorneverland, and shoutykat. ran from 5:30 pm DST to 8:00 pm DST

streamtime transcript, from 7:30 pm DST to 8:00 pm DST

twosquared: hell yeah, ii ju2t kiilled BOTH tho2e famiily vlogger chiildren!! at ONCE!! 2uck on that, eiight-year-old2 who make more money than me!!

coolerthanu: nice, dude

toreadorneverland: wELL,, tHEY CAN’T REALLY,, hELP BEING EIGHT,, rIGHT? sTILL,, gOOD JOB,, i GUESS

coolerthanu: they can help it, just go up to a birthday cake and press age up. poof! cool teen!

shoutykat: ...DAVE, HOW LONG WERE YOU PLAYING THE SIMS *THIS* TIME? DO I HAVE TO GO OVER AND LURE YOU FROM YOUR WEIRD FUCKING GAMER DEN OR SOMETHING? DO I NEED TO CALL YOUR SISTER TO MAKE OMINOUS THREATS FROM A SHADOWY DOORWAY AT YOU AT 3AM?

toreadorneverland: wAIT,,, yOU WERE SERIOUS WHEN YOU SAID THAT? i THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE! dOES,, iT ACTUALLY WORK?

twosquared: fiir2t of all, what the FUCK are you guy2 talkiing about? 2econd of all, are we just goiing to glo22 over the fact that tav 2aiid “ii gue22″ to me getting a double kiill2hot?? a DOUBLE KIILL2HOT??

toreadorneverland: sORRY,, yOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT,,, rIGHT?

coolerthanu: dw bro, he’s just being dramatic for the hell of it. he’s not actually mad.

shoutykat: ALSO, WHAT THE FUCK IS *UP* WITH YOU AND THE NUMBER TWO? YOU’RE ALWAYS DOING THOSE DUMB FUCKING DOUBLE KILLSHOTS.YOU’RE FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT. I KNOW YOU’RE A GEMINI, BUT I DON’T GO AROUND CALLING MYSELF “CANCERDUDESIXTYNINE”, RIGHT?

twosquared: iit’s like de2tiined to be, kk. my eye2? two diifferent color2. my triick move? two kiill2hot2 at once.

coolerthanu: his dick? two of them. arms? two of them. 2 x 2 is four- his approximate mental age. also yes, sol, i stole that line from rose.

twosquared: ii’m bii2exual. ii have a boyfriiend AND a giirlfriiend. the only connectiion between you and cancer ii2 that that’2 what people call your content.

toreadorneverland: oH WOW DUDE!! uHH,,, i SUPPORT YOU!!

twosquared: ah 2hiit. that 2liipped out.

coolerthanu: are you, like, serious dude?

twosquared: fuck.

shoutykat: SOLLUX, I REALLY HOPE THIS ISN’T ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR SHITTY JOKES.

twosquared: goddammiit.

coolerthanu: dude if you need us to end the stream we’ll do it, i know coming out is kinda risky sometimes-

twosquared: actually, y’know what? fuck iit. thanks for the offer dv, but i don’t need it. yeah, i’m really fuckiing bii. yeah, ii’m datiing a guy and a giirl, and y’know what? they’re both fuckiing amaziing, and iif anyone’2 gonna quit 2upportiing me becau2e of that, then ii don’t giive a 2hiit. ii love my giirlfriiend. 2he’2 2weeter than fuckiing 2ugar and ii’m pretty 2ure iit’s 2ciientifiically impo22iible to be 2ad iin the 2ame room a2 her, iit’2 liike 2he’s made of 2un2hiine, 2he’2 adorable. ii al2o love my boyfriiend ju2t a2 much. he’2 a huge goddamed romantiic, he briing2 me flower2 and he 2tay2 up late memoriiziing love poem2 so he can reciite them to me when ii can’t 2leep liike a fuckiing lullaby, he’2 kiind and gentle and wonderful. and they’re datiing each other too, and that’2 great, becau2e iit make2 them both really fuckiing happy.

twosquared: my giirlfriiend 2pend2 like 2 hour2 before each of theiir date2 fu22iing over her makeup and what to wear becau2e 2he want2 to look pretty for u2, even though my boyfriiend and ii both thiink 2he’2 beautiiful no matter what. my boyfriiend ii2 the only one of u2 that can actually fuckiing cook, 2o when we have date niight2 at home, he alway2 2pend2 hour2 makiing 2omethiing fanta2tiic for iit. my boyfriiend and my giirlfriiend are both early biird2 so they do thii2 thiing iin the morniing where they curl up next to each other on the couch and my boyfriend driink2 hii2 fancy tea and my giirlfriiend driink2 her riidiculou2ly 2weet coffee and they read together, and that’2 liike theiir thiing, and iit’2 the fuckiing cute2t.

twosquared: who know2? maybe 2omeday we’ll end up datiing 2omebody el2e too, and then ii’m gonna love that 2omebody, becau2e they’ll be theiir own per2on wiith a miiliion diiferent thiing2 to fall iin love wiith. ii’m happy wiith who ii am and who ii love and ii’m not giiviing 2omeone the chance to force me to hiide that. love i2n’t fuckiing fiiniite unle22 you make iit be. iif 2omeone can love one partner iinfiniitely, why can’t ii love both of miine the 2ame way? ii’m not goiing to claiim that every poly relatiion2hip is good, but iif there’2 no balance iin it, then that’2 not a problem wiith the relatiion2hiip, that’2 a problem wiith the people iin iit.

coolerthanu: ...damn, my guy. okay. cool. first of all- great speech. moving as hell. second of all- we have your back, especially if someone tries to shit on you about this. when i came out, you literally wingmanned me into a relationship with karkitty over there. third of all, this is the exact same way that roxy came out to me as nonbinary, why does this keep happening.

shoutykat: OF COURSE WE SUPPORT YOU, YOU NUMBSKULLED FUCKASS. WHY WOULD WE *NOT* SUPPORT YOU? WHO WAS THAT RANT EVEN FOR? THE TWITCH CHAT THAT’S BEEN GIVING YOU LIKE FIVE SUBS A MINUTE? THE ONE FULL OF RAINBOW POGGERS? *THEM*?

twosquared: ii mean ii wa2 kiinda braciing my2elf for a way wor2e reactiion, 2o thii2 ii2 a plea2ant 2urpriii2e. al2o, kk, “fucka22″? ii mean ii’m flattered that you thiink ii’d be a top, but frankly that’2 ju2t iincorrect.

toreadorneverland: wELL,,,yOU SEEM REALLY HAPPY,,i’M GLAD!! aS LONG AS YOU ALL LOVE EACHOTHER,,, tHAT’S ALL THAT YOU NEED!! oNE,, uHH,, qUICK QUESTION THOUGH,,, nOT TO BE RUDE,,, bUT ARE THESE PEOPLE,,, wHO WE THINK THEY ARE? uHH,,, iT’S JUST,, tHAT THERE’S TWO PEOPLE WHO,,, uHH, sEEM A LOT LIKE,,, tHEY COULD BE,,,yOUR BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND,,

twosquared: aw thank2 t! and yeah, unle22 you’re liike 2uper mii2guiided, iit’2 probably them.

coolerthanu: yeah, we know, you three are the least subtle people on the planet. do you guys want emotional repression lessons from dirk or some shit? you’re so obvious.

twosquared: agaiin dave, thank2 for the offer but that 2ound2 awful, and no. al2o, can we wrap thii2 up? ii’ve got an appoiintment wiith the large cuddle piile of blanket2 and my cool hot boyfriiend and giirlfriiend on my bed over there.

shoutykat: UGH, *FINE*. WE ALL ALSO DIED IN FORTNITE WHILE YOU WERE GIVING THAT SPEECH ABOUT THE INFINITY OF LOVE ANYWAYS, SO IT’S PROBABLY TIME. WE’VE ALL GOT STUFF TO GET TO ANYWAYS.

coolerthanu: aw karkitty, if you were so excited to meet up with me, why didn’t you just say so?

shoutykat: ...SHUT UP.

toreadorneverland: uHH,, sOLLUX, aRE YOU GOING TO,,uHH,,dO THE SIGNOFF? ,,,i MEAN I CAN DO IT,, iF IT’S AN ISSUE,,,

twosquared: nah dude, ii know how you hate doiing the 2ignoff2, ii can handle iit.

twosquared: 2o that’2 iit for today, everybody! pre22 2ub2criibe to 2upport the channel, and follow to get all 2tream notiifiicatiions. ii 2tream every 2iingle day from 5:30 tiil 8:00-10:00 LA tiime, 2houtykat 2treams monday to friday at around the 2ame tiime, coolerthanu 2tream2 whenever, but he’2 got a youtube channel, 2triiderbrozproductiion2, and toreadorneverland 2tream2 game2 on monday2, wedne2day2, and friiday2 from 5:00 pm tiil 8:00 pm, plus a 2torybook 2tream every thur2day from 7:00 tiil 8:00. youtube channel name2 are the 2ame a2 twiitch for me, tavro2 and karkat, and all other 2ociial mediia2 are on our profiile2. ii2 that everythiing?

coolerthanu: yeah dude, you got it. bye, everyone.

STREAM ENDED

Sollux breathes a sigh of relief as the lights and cameras and monitors, one by one, click off, leaving the room gently lit with the glow of Feferi’s fairy lights strung up around the room. From behind him, a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, the pink glitter on the nails softly shimmering. He greets her with a kiss on the hand, and soon he’s curled up with his boyfriend and girlfriend in bed. These nights are more common now, all of them legal adults in one house under the artificial stars of the LA sky.

“Eridan? Can you do that thing you do?” Feferi whispers, careful if for no more reason than to not break the soft stillness of the darkening room.

“What do you mean, dear?”

“The way you recite poems. You know, when I can’t sleep.” Sollux murmurs, lisp just peeking through.

Sollux can feel Eridan start to blush, even in the warm darkness.

“I... didn’t know you both..remembered it that much. If you’d like though, I’ll try.”

Eridan’s voice settles like a melody in the room, gentle and lyrical around the delicate words.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace..”

Sollux realizes that his hand is interlaced with Eridan’s, Feferi’s draped overtop. He doesn’t remember doing it. It is second nature to him, the soft affection of being present. The lights glimmer down to nothing. A peacable, if early, night. There is a sense of contentment, of a longing fufilled- one that he hadn’t known he’d had.

“I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candle-light”

Eridan remembers, absentmindedly, while saying words that he knows by heart. He remembers the grating harshness of loneliess- of wanting, so badly, to be fixed by another that he could not fix himself. He remembers the fear of realizing the way he loved was different. He can still feel the weight of all he has left to say, the idea of coming out to an audience built on dregs of rejection and rejecting hangs like the sword of Damacles over his head, but it is easier here. The world seems softer, wrapped in the gentleness of favourite blankets and the light of a waning moon.

“I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.”

Feferi has always wanted to do what’s right. She knows that she can’t always know what’s best for everyone, but she still feels guilt at every percieved slight. She loves too deeply, too fiercely, Eridan used to tell her, with too solemn an expression for such a young face. She had a heart big enough for the entire world. She knows that she wants to come out on her own terms- a teen starlet who’s pan and polyamorous is hot news to pick up, after all. She’s scared to, of course- she knows that a part of her soul will still be the little girl she once was, starving for affection, but she’s growing. Learning. And in the arms of the two boys she loves, she feels as though, for a moment, the entire world is right.

“I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.”

Learning the boundaries of their relationship when it was new wasn’t quite easy. it wasn’t something any of them had ever done before. Feferi was the one to suggest it first- it would break her heart, after all, to break either of theirs. They hated each other at first- rivals over a girl, tale as old as time. Still, it slowly simmered and faded. Sollux saw the walls of protection fall when Eridan brought Feferi a dozen pink roses, eyes not competing, but earnest. Eridan saw the bravado collapse when Feferi fell from the branch of a tree while filming and Sollux rushed to her side, eyes wide, hoping she was alright, begging her to never do that again. An understanding turned to an alliance, and an alliance turned to love. It was December, and they were sitting together at Feferi’s insistence, hot cocoa and a book to while the night away. Eridan read in the same voice, and at the ending, he left a feather-light kiss brushed over Sollux’s lips- and Sollux pulled him back in.

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, and tears of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”

It was a warm night, cozy and cooled by the breath of autumn in the air, and there they lay together, lulled to sleep by the melody of a love poem and the gentlie chimes of wind on glass, Sollux’s heart filled to bursting with love for his sweethearts. There was a gentle, whispered, goodnight.

a/n: the poem is how do i love thee, or sonnet 43, by elizabeth batter browning. it’s like 4am so i didn’t proofread and i’m also very sentimental.

40 notes · View notes

pronouncingitwang · 5 years ago

Link

jonmartin | 3.8K words

When Jon wakes up, the bed is trembling.

“Martin?” he mumbles, turning around. The darkness softens the edges of his vision, so he reaches a hand out. Nothing. But he can hear breathing, sharp but constrained, and the bed jolts slightly. “Martin?”—louder, and this time, fear, familiar and unwelcome, slithers up his throat—“Are you alright?”

Slowly, a shape begins to form on the other side of the bed. Martin lies on his side, facing Jon, both hands over his mouth. His eyes are wide and still, but his chest rises and falls with exertion. He’s kicked off the duvet, and in the half-light sliver coming in through the window, his trembling forearms look exposed and vulnerable. Jon wants to reach out, past Martin’s frayed T-shirt and still-translucent skin to his frantically-beating heart, press his palm gently against its walls, and… do what?

“Sorry for waking you,” Martin gasps into the cupped space between mouth and palm. The words come in a burst, crammed hastily into the space between one breath and another.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I’m—it’s fine. You caught me at the tail end; just—give me a second…” Martin squeezes his eyes shut, and his breathing begins to slow. Carefully, he removes his hands from his face. His lip is bleeding, like he’s been biting down on it for a long time. “Okay. I’m okay now.”

“You were invisible.”

“Oh. I, uh, didn’t really notice.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing—it was- silly of me, really, you were just turned away, and I- couldn’t see if you were breathing, and obviously you’re alright, but I just. I’ve had a lot of practice watching you not breathe, and I wasn’t particularly… keen on doing it again.”

Oh. What with the running and packing and driving, Jon hasn’t even given thought to—“I’m sorry.”

Martin gives him a half-shrug. “Not your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?”

Jon shifts the duvet toward Martin, who tucks himself back in. “I can… I can leave, take the other bed. If you want.”

“What?”

“If my being here—seeing me asleep, if it’s distressing to you, it only makes sense that I—”

“No, don’t feel like you have to—”

“It’s not a problem, I’ve had far worse—”

“Or—it’s not—don’t—it’s not just that.” Martin sighs. “I’d prefer it if—I… I want you to stay.”

“... Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jon can’t tell if Martin is blushing or not, and god, does he want to know—wants the lights on, wants the sun up, wants a flashlight and a camera and a microscope so he can see exactly what Martin’s face looks like in this moment, but he also wants to lie here next to Martin in the dark and say, “I’ll stay, then.”

“Thank you,” Martin breathes, and doesn’t turn away, and Jon doesn’t either.

“You can… check my pulse next time. If you’d like.”

“What?”

“When I was—after the Unknowing. If I- recall correctly, my heart wasn’t beating. If you check my heartbeat, and it’s still going, it might be enough to let you know that I’m just asleep?”

“That’s a… pretty good idea, actually,” Martin says, and then, reaching out a hand, “Can I?”

Jon must have nodded, or made some kind of head movement, because Martin’s pressing his fingers, warm and still a little sweaty, to Jon’s neck, and Jon proves Martin’s earlier worries fully rational by forgetting how to breathe.

Martin’s thumb brushes the scar on Jon’s neck. “Daisy?”

Jon wants to nod, but he’s afraid of jostling Martin. “Yeah.”

“And now we’re in her safehouse.”

The calming effect is gradual. Martin keeps his hand steady, and slowly, his shoulders begin to relax.

“Is it helping?”

“Yeah,” Martin says, a little wonderingly, “I think it is.”

A few more minutes pass, the tension draining out of Martin until his eyes start to droop. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“I do,” Martin murmurs distractedly. “Does it always beat so fast?”

Jon swallows, feeling his carotid press up against Martin’s skin. “I don’t know,” he lies, and thankfully, there are no follow-up questions.

Martin falls asleep with his hand still resting in the dip of Jon’s collarbones. Jon doesn’t sleep for a long time.

When Jon wakes up the next morning, Martin’s already awake and dressed.

“How’d you sleep?” Martin asks.

“Good. I actually don’t think I dreamt at all,” Jon realizes. Another reason to be glad he fed Peter Lukas to the Lonely, he supposes. “I hope it lasts.”

Despite the cabin’s square footage, cleaning it takes Martin and him until sundown. By the time they’ve finished, the floor is clean enough for the two of them to set their shoes by the door and walk about in their socks, which they soon do. There’s an unspoken understanding there—if they thought they’d only be here for a few days, a week, if they thought they would need to run soon, they would leave the dust in the corners and forget to sweep under the couch. We are safe, Jon whispers to himself as he watches Martin deposit a beetle outside, and we are staying.

After dinner. Jon tries to teach Martin how to play 24 Challenge.

“It’s the only card game I know,” he says apologetically. “My grandma wanted me to brush up on my mental maths. It’s alright if you don’t want to play—”

“Jonathan Symbiosis—”

“I beg your pardon?” The look on Jon’s face must be especially affronted, because Martin bursts into laughter, loud and unconstrained in a way Jon hasn’t heard in a long time. I did that, he thinks, letting the thought spread, rose-gold, through his veins, and commits the soundbite to memory.

“As I was saying, Jonathan ‘Sims,’ short for Jonathan Symbiosis—I would be honored to learn how to play your weird childhood maths game on this fine night.”

“Okay, well, normally, we’d use a card pack made especially for 24, but we can also draw four cards at a time from a normal deck. The goal is to make 24 by using the value of each card exactly once. For example…”

The rest of the explanation comes out on autopilot, leaving Jon’s higher brain processes to observe Martin, as they’ve been doing all day. Jon’s glad to see that very little of the panic from last night has bled over into the now. Though Martin’s eyes flicker anxiously to the window every time there’s a sound outside, they always return, relieved, to his hands, the cards, and most often of all, to Jon.

“... That’s that,” Jon says, stuffing the example set back into the deck. “Do you have any questions?”

“Just one. What are you waiting for?” Martin says (What? Jon thinks)—and flips four cards over. (Oh. Right.)

Jon learns several things over the next hour, namely that the best way to uncover someone’s torrid rugby past is to challenge them to card-based arithmetic. Martin’s about as embarrassed by Jon’s discovery as Jon is intrigued, if the former’s look of utter mortification after (seemingly involuntarily) crowing, “No pain, no gain!” the first time he accidentally slaps Jon’s hand to get to the cards first is anything to go by.

“Don’t say a word—”

“I’m sorry, Martin. Could you—could you repeat that? It’s just that it was so very pithy and, I’m afraid, too clever for me to fully comprehend the first time—”

“Shut up—”

“No pain, no… what was it? Plane? no, that can’t be it. Grain? Martin, you simply must help me understand—”

“Jonathan Verisimilitude, I swear to God—”

“Do you have, like, a list of these—”

“Obviously. Poet, remember?”

Then, the implications of Martin’s words sink in, and he freezes.

Jon’s chest is tight. “You wrote poetry… about me?”

Martin shrugs, barely meeting Jon’s eyes. “Might’ve done.”

“I don’t think I saw any of that when I was…” accusing you of murder and rifling through your personal belongings.

“Yeah, I uh, kept most of it on my phone. Bit of light reading for Prentiss.” Martin wince-laughs. Martin, who apparently wrote poetry about Jon within weeks of meeting him, during a time when the kindest thing Jon had ever said to him was a noncommittal grunt every time Martin brought him tea. God, no wonder he had said loved, past tense.

“How… exactly were the Sims puns incorporated?”

“Um, well”—Martin somehow manages to flush more—“it’s more that I used the words in place of your name? I thought it’d be appropriately… roundabout.”

“Ah.”

The moment steeps in the air for a second, then two before Jon takes pity on both of them. He gestures back at the cards. “You got there first; what’s the answer?”

That night, the two of them settle in bed, facing each other again. Martin only hesitates a little before he reaches for Jon’s neck. This time, Jon falls asleep first.

When Jon wakes up, he’s curled up in the dead-center of the bed, and—

“Shit—” says Martin, from the ground.

“Martin! What the—Martin, are you hurt?”

“Ow—no,” Martin says, wincing, and Jon helps him up to a seat on the edge of the bed. “Just took a bit of a tumble. There should barely be any bruising, I think.”

Jon moves to sit down next to him. “Nightmare?”

“No, no, you just—”

“Dropkicked you into the floor?”

“No”—Martin laughs—“you just sort of… rolled toward me? And I moved back to give you space and then… you know.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault; this isn’t the biggest bed”—Jon opens his mouth—“And that’s not a cue for you to offer to move again. Unless you really want to.”

“I don’t,” Jon answers, a touch too quickly. “But you should know you’re allowed to move me if I ever get too comfortable.”

“I didn’t want to manhandle you in your sleep, Jon, you’re welcome to as much of the bed as you like—”

“I’m welcome to exactly half. Less, really, if we’re going off of relative sizes. I don’t mind if you push me, really; I’ve never faulted Georgie for her shove-Jon-in-self-defense maneuvers.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. Here, practice run”—Jon flops back onto the bed—“Look, I’m rudely encroaching on your space. What do you do?”

Martin laughs—“Alright, alright”—and stands.

Suddenly, there are sturdy arms under Jon, and then, both he and the duvet are being lifted in the air (with very little difficulty, Jon notes). Martin sets him down ever so gently on the left side of the bed.

“Happy?” Martin asks.

Jon is glad his face is pressed into his pillow, glad that the duvet covers the fact that his hands are shaking a little, glad that his throat is too tight for an I love you I’m in love with you and I love you to squeeze through.

“Yes,” Jon says, and is surprised by how raw the syllable sounds.

The bed dips as Martin settles next to Jon. “Then so am I.”

Jon gets up early to make breakfast. He hadn’t set an alarm for fear of waking Martin; somehow his body Knows exactly when to wake, but he’ll worry about that later. He leaves a note on Martin’s pillow in case waking up alone is too disconcerting and heads to the kitchen, tying up his hair as he goes.

The village shop was fairly limited on supplies, and Martin could only carry so much (though, considering last night, that “so much” is... quite a lot) back over when the village is a twenty-minutes’ walk away. Thus, Jon’s options are limited. He settles for poori, even though he needs to use a water bottle as a makeshift rolling pin and even though they’ll have to eat it plain. Jon spends several minutes debating how much oil they can spare for the deep-frying, then decides that he can just fill the pot and pour it all back into the bottle later.

In between mixing and rolling out the dough, he lets the kettle boil and scrambles some eggs. Jon is relieved that he can remember how thick his grandmother used to make each poori before it was ready to fry and how Martin takes his tea—plain; he’d said something last year about how he’s sure his ancestors would throw a collective fit if he ever deigned to disgrace their country’s invention with milk or sugar. When Jon drops the first circle of dough in the oil and it begins to rise to the surface, he breathes a sigh of relief. Then it’s about ladling more hot oil on top of the poori and trying very hard to not get burned and taking it out, and doing it all again six more times. He samples one. It’s not as fluffy as he would have liked, but it’s good enough for him and almost good enough for Martin.

Jon contemplates the spread before him. It still looks incomplete, so he washes off the water bottle and sets it to work as a juicer, too. It takes three oranges and all of Jon’s hand strength to make enough liquid to fill a mug, and Jon eats the leftover citrus pulp so as not to be wasteful. Then, he sits and waits.

Martin emerges from the stairs barefoot and muss-haired, and Jon has to look away before his mind can start waxing poetic about how the sunlight caressing Martin’s cheek makes it look like Martin is the one who’s glowing.

“Thanks for the note,” Martin says, crossing the room in two strides, “and I promise, I’m okay, but can I still…”

Jon nods, and tips his head up for the now almost familiar ceremony having his pulse checked. This close, and in the light, Jon can see Martin’s pupils, just barely distinct from the dark brown of his eyes.

“I made breakfast,” Jon says.

“Oh,” Martin says, seemingly noticing the food for the first time. “Oh. Jon. Thank you.”

Martin has no right to sound so grateful for something that’s taken Jon less than half an hour to do, and Jon tells him such.

“You made me tea,” Martin replies, in a tone that brooks no argument, and Jon feels all his half-formulated replies die on his tongue.

Martin approaches the poori first. Jon watches anxiously as Martin lifts the first piece to his mouth and chews.

“Jonathan Symphony…”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been living off of nothing but sandwiches and microwavable macaroni cheese for the last year when you can cook like this?”

Jon can’t help the pleased shiver that goes down his spine at the words, but he tries not to let it show. “You forgot Pot Noodles. And statements.”

"Point still stands, Jonny Pessimism."

Jon barely reacts to the name this time, which he considers an achievement. “It’s just fried bread.”

“Very good fried bread.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I’m sure you know I’m not the most dedicated to ‘self-care’”—Martin snorts—“I suppose I just don’t cook much when it’s just me. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to.”

“Well then. Good thing I’m here now,” Martin says around another bite of poori.

Yes. Yes, it is.

Jon wakes up Hungry.

Somewhere in his mind, he can register that it’s still early stages, and nowhere near unbearable—just some dizziness, something he wouldn’t even notice on an average day at the Archives—but after spending a few Seeing-less days hoping that Lukas had been enough to last him a few weeks, the realization still strikes him cold.

Since Jon is obviously not going to leave the cabin to snack on some poor villager, he tucks the duvet more securely around himself and tries to fall asleep again. But dread begins to pool in his stomach, and no matter how he shifts his position, the restlessness refuses to relinquish its hold on him. And if it’s already downright uncomfortable right now, how many days before it becomes unbearable? At what point will he need to lock the cabin door to keep himself inside? When will he no longer trust himself to leave the bedroom? Even getting up and pacing might be too much of a risk in time. Basira’s sending him some statements once the Archives are less police-monitored, she promised. He just has to hold out until then. He has to. He has to. He—

“Jon? Jon, can you hear me?” Martin’s voice sounds like it’s coming from a distance, but Jon consciousness grasps for the source. Then, there’s two fingers pressed to his neck, and Jon grasps at those too. “Jon, please—” and the room and the bed and the man Jon loves come rushing back.

“Martin,” he whispers.

“Jon, you were making little noises—are you okay?”

“Martin. I thought we’d have longer. The Eye—it’s back.” His voice cracks on the second sentence, and Martin swears under his breath.

“Never mind that—How bad is it?”

“It’s—it’s not, really. Or—I just felt a little dizzy, I think most of- that was panic.”

“And now?”

“I’m back now. You—you brought me back.”

“Still dizzy, though?”

Jon nods.

“How can I help?”

“I don’t know, it’s never—”

“Or, easier question—what’s helped in the past?”

“Sleep, sometimes, but I can’t—” Jon breaks off into a sob.

“It’s okay,” Martin whispers, “It’s okay, Jon. Stay with me. What’s helped you sleep in the past?”

“I, uh, had a weighted blanket, it’s probably still in Document Storage—”

“Right, I remember—”

“I felt—solid, under it. And a little trapped, but in a good way. Less likely to go out and Compel people, at least.”

“I don’t think Daisy has a weighted blanket here, but we could try to imitate the feeling? What if—I could- kind of lay… on top of you, or—”

Jon shakes his head.

“That’s fair, I’m probably a bit heavier than your average—”

“No, no, no, that isn’t the reason; I just don’t want to… take advantage.”

Martin scrunches up his brow. “How do you mean?”

“Well, just—the experience might… elicit different emotions from the two of us, and that would be unfair to you.”

“Right,” Martin says, then frowns. “No, hang on. Not ‘right.’ How does asking me to cuddle you count as you, what, ‘taking advantage’? Are you saying you’re somehow… manipulating my feelings for you in order to get me to—”

“Sorry, what?”

“—if anything, wouldn’t I be the one ‘taking advantage’ by offering, not that that was my inten—”

“—Your feelings? What do you mean, your feelings?”

“My… romantic feelings toward you?”

Jon blinks. Are auditory hallucinations a rare side effect of panic attacks? Or maybe it’s an Avatar thing; did Helen ever mention—?

“Jon… you’re staring.”

“In the Lonely. You said ‘loved.’”

“You’re right. I did.” Martin is, for some reason, smiling. “But I wasn’t fully myself there, surely you know that. What about the past few days?”

“I mean—you’re an affectionate person, and there’s no one else here—”

Martin cups Jon’s face in both his hands, and now, he’s laughing too—“Jonathan… Simpleton—”

“Martin,” Jon says, confused and heart-racingly hopeful. He thinks it may be the only thing he can say right now.

“Please, call up Basira, or Melanie, or Georgie, and ask them if they’d call me affectionate.”

“But—”

“It’s just you, Jon. Of course I love you. Of course I’m in love with you.”

“But… why? I was awful to you, and then I was gone—”

“—and then you changed, and then you came back to me.”

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It can, though. I’ve chosen to make it that easy.”

Christ, I love you, Jon thinks, and then, oh, God, I haven’t said it back yet. “This might be- clear, already, but Martin, I love you too, so much, and I’m sorry that I didn’t always show it, or realize it—”

“Hey,” Martin says, smoothing his hand over Jon’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes. This—this is real.”

“It is.” Then—“Can I kiss you?” Martin asks.

Jon’s thought about kissing Martin before, but those imagined kisses had always been hurried and frantic and for larger, more selfish purposes—convincing Martin to stop working for Lukas; making a last-minute, time-efficient declaration of feelings before the Unknowing unmakes them both; trying to prove that there’s still some humanity left in him and hey, the logic of the universe is so twisted already that he may as well give it the old Frog Prince try. This moment—warm, close, deliberate; no danger present except for Jon himself—feels far more right than any of these. And yet—“Maybe not now?”

“Yeah, of course,” Martin says, in a voice that harbors no resentment and asks for no explanations. Jon explains anyway.

“I’d still like to, in the future, but I think I’m still a little… raw from all of tonight’s—revelations, and I- sometimes find skin contact challenging in even the best of situations.”

“Do you want me to let go of your face?”

“No, what you’re doing right now is… it’s not too much. Feels nice.”

“And what about the weighted blanket offer, now that you know you aren’t”—Martin pitches his voice lower in a frankly horrendous Jon-imitation—“‘taking advantage’?”

Jon laughs. “That would be nice, too.”

Martin hmms, then presses closer and swings his legs over Jon’s.

“Would taking a statement from me help?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know if it counts, but I was there when the Flesh attacked, and I met Simon Fairchild.”

“You met Simon F—”

“Jon, Jon, it’s okay, he didn’t hurt me. The point is, you can Compel me about him, see if it does anything for you.”

“I’d rather lay off the Seeing until it’s really necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

Martin pulls Jon in a little closer. “Anytime.”

addendum:

Jon wakes up tucked into the space between Martin’s neck and shoulder.

“‘Morning,” he mumbles into Martin’s skin, and feels Martin smile against his hair.

“Good morning to you, too. Do you still feel Hungry?”

Jon takes stock of his headache, then shrugs. “Yes, but I believe I’m more used to the dizziness now.”

“Well, last night’s offer is still on the table, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“O-oh. Of course,” Jon says, and kisses him. Martin makes a small mmph! that Jon finds extremely gratifying, and for a few seconds, he just lingers there, feeling the warm, dry press of Martin’s mouth against his.

When Jon pulls back, Martin has gone pleasantly pink. “I—ah—meant the Fairchild statement, actually, but I did appreciate that. A lot.”

“Oh,” Jon says, and before he can get too embarrassed, kisses Martin again.

“Someone’s affectionate this morning.”

“Mm.”

“We should probably get out of bed soon.”

“Mm.”

“Maybe write up a plan for if you get worse before Basira can mail the statements over?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Also, if you need any ingredients for cooking, let me know; I might pop down to the shops again tomorrow; I’m due to spend some quality time with the cows soon.”

“Mm.”

“Write me a list later, when you’re a tad more verbal?”

Jon nods. Yes, he’ll do it later, because they have a later to make promises for.

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #tma #magpod #fic

37 notes · View notes

panicsimmer · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!, just wondering what skin details and blush etc u use? all your sims look so cute!

I’m sorry this took so long @rawr-sim! I just finished my winter session class.

Body blush - Simmandy

Skin Overlays (Most used) - Spooky, Rose, About Face, Afterglow

#wcif #asks #ask me anything #abbyasks

2 notes · View notes

simmancy · 6 years ago

Note

Hi, I'm not sure if your still accepting sim requests, but I'm having a hard time finding good berry sims to add to my game, and I'm not very good at making them. I've honestly already added most of your creations to my game because they are so good! I was just wondering if you would be willing and able to great me and handsome rose/light pink male berry. He can look however you want, cc allowed, and you can allow public download. Much appreciated

Roccoco Rosewater (simfileshare)

Hope you like him!! xoxo

#ts4 #ts4 sim request #berry sweet sims #i am not technically taking sim requests but I can?#i guess just drop them in my inbox and i'll make you a sim #bfrizzlee #ask #saviorhide #on the dl #onthedl #i dont even know my own download tags smh

60 notes · View notes

anneliesembsims · 1 year ago

Text

Disclaimer: I received free packs as part of the EA Creator Network

She's so cute

#EA Partner #ts4 #sims 4 #wonder rainbowcy #Berry Sweet Sims #wonder gen 8 #sim: Rose Blush Wonder

4 notes · View notes

cynnied-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Perfect Imperfections

○ paring: kralsei ( kris x ralsei )

○ genre/warnings: pure unadulterated fluff with a bit of angst

○ word count: 3.5k

→ summary: ralsei is coming to visit and, after days of deliberation, kris knows exactly where to bring him.

○ note: so this is the kralsei thing I said I was working on over on @cynnied-art. I hope you enjoy!

Kris’ hometown was a barren land of clinical depression and midlife crises. Filled to the brim with literally nothing to do.

And yes, they’ve checked.

All you can do is; eat at the diner, hang out in the school’s playground, stare at the lake for hours… Get a concussion? Soon realize that, in the grand scheme of the universe, nothing you do will ever matter? Oh, there’s also a pizza place that doesn’t technically even serve pizza.

This is the bad place if you were wondering.

For Kris, this was all common knowledge. They had known this since they were twelve. And yet here they were. Still sitting at their computer. Bathed in the pale, artificial glow of the screen at 5 am in the morning. Trying to find something, anything, to do. But, after wasting their finite time on the interwebz, a realization dawned on them. Their search was, in fact, fruitless.

They let out an extended groan. Slumping into their computer chair at the sight of the miles of empty space on Google Maps. This was hopeless. They lived in a tiny town. A tiny town in the middle of nowhere. With the closest city being three long hours away. And if they spent one more minute looking at a screen their eyes would die.

A softer sigh fell as they pushed away from the desk. Kris stretched as they stood up on wobbly legs. Their bones popping back into place. They exhaled dramatically. Ending the exaggerated motion slouched over like an exhausted Sim.

This was so lame. SO LAME!

Their boyfriend was coming tomorrow and they had nothing special planned. All because of their stupid, boring hometown. Sure, they could laze around on the monkey bars again. Share another milkshake at the diner? Or you know, contemplate the meaning of life for a couple of hours. For the second time. Ralsei wouldn’t mind. But that’s the reason for all the mounting stress.

He wouldn’t care. He’d be happy to spend time with them. The duo could be in the ninth ring of hell and he’d still say it was a pretty good date. He’ll never expect any more than their simple presence. He’s just so…

Perfect.

Too perfect.

And Kris wasn’t.

Their legs were too long. Hair’s too shaggy. Mannerisms too odd. Mind and soul too fucked up. The immediate willingness to eat moss off a dungeon floor kinda solidified that.

And, yet…

Ralsei still smiled at them with eyes filled with galaxies. Blushed whenever he caught them gazing. Said words that only held a genuine affection. Sang them the kinds of songs only Disney princesses sang to their true loves.

His words might stutter or his lyrics might be on the cheesy side but, man…

These trips to the surface he makes… to visit them? To visit a creepy, loner that could barely hold a conversation? In their mind, there was no other option. His visits had to be special.

Kris’ feet dragged across their bedroom floor. A hundred percent ready to crash into bed. They shuffled before a strand of light caught them by surprise. Not taking in that tomorrow was now today.

The bright beam stung as Kris ran to close the curtains. Their hands paused, though. Gripping the rough fabric, they peered through the gap between them.

Orange and pink hues blended in the early morning sky. Contrasting against the shadowed tree line, the sun slowly rose. Its rays stretching across the horizon.

Any hint of drowsiness they had slipped into the background. Their soul lost its usual burdensome weight at the sight. Memories from a time almost forgotten reemerged in Kris’ mind.

Sitting high up. So high, it felt like they were in another world. Looking off into the distance. The same orangish colours surrounded them. Cool breezes brought golden leaves with them. Warmth seeped from the knitted scarf around their neck. Warmth seeped from the loved ones who were near.

Everything was… perfect.

Oh.

In that moment, as they stared out of their window, enchanted by the sunrise, they knew.

They just knew. This was the view Ralsei deserved to see.The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

With hands interlocked and fog all around them, they made their way across town. The sharpness of the air filled their noses. They kept their voices hushed and footsteps quick. Up above them the navy blue blanket of the night began to brighten. Slowly changing shades in the sky above.

Ralsei let a yawn escape him.

A few moments ago his steady had the honour of waking his tired form. Though the gesture was as old as time, a heroic knight waking a sleeping princess, this time it wasn’t with a kiss. His knight’s methods involved things like poking his side and harsh whispers. Not exactly fairy tale material but accuracy is a small price to pay.

Especially because he got to experience the wondrous things that are sleepovers. Sleeping in Kris’ room. Sleeping in Kris’ bed. Hogging all the blankets because they smell like sunshine. Kris didn’t seem to appreciate that last one. But, they also didn’t appreciate nice smelling sheets like he did.

Although, one caveat dampened the experience a bit. They had to forgo the “sleeping-in” part of a sleepover. No waking up to strands of light coming from the curtains. No smell of breakfast drifting from downstairs.

Nope, only waking up before the sun was even awake and sneaking through the streets. Like a couple of rapscallions.

Guess he still had much to learn.

Their feet finally crunched on fallen leaves as Kris brought him to the Flower King. Or rather, the side of it. His steady let go of his paw, using their spare hand to rummage through their inventory pockets.

Earlier in the day, Kris had waltzed into their father’s shop. Locked in loaded with a puppy-dog grin and years of unused “child of divorce” brownie points. They also maybe over-exaggerated their driving abilities a bit.

Okay, maybe a lot.

But, nonetheless, his truck would be back in its spot before 9 am and in the exact way he left it. As promised. Most likely. As long as they didn’t have to parallel park at any point.

With a startling beep, their father’s truck unlocked. The duo got in and tried to settle into their seats. Both a bit nervous about the endeavour. Kris more about the actual act of driving and Ralsei about the defiance.

He sank into the worn, leather seats as he began to worry. It was one of his oldest pastimes. His thoughts endlessly spinning worse and worse outcomes of his current situation.

This excursion couldn’t end well, right? There were a thousand different ways it could all go wrong.

Before he could spiral down any further, Ralsei jumped out of his thoughts as the old truck burst to life. The engine began to rumble. All the tiny lights and icons along the dash started flickering. While the soothing tones of John Denver drifted through the radio.

“Are you sure about this, Kris?”

They glanced up from adjusting the driver’s seat height to their size instead of their father’s. They tilted their head as a simple reply.

“Kriiiiiss.” He scolded, understanding their unspoken sentiment. It’s not like he didn’t know they were a teen of few words before they had started dating.

Continuing their silence, Kris’ head only tilted further. Resembling a ninety-degree angle instead of one belonging to a proper steady. Ralsei sighed, “You know what I mean. There’s no way your mother’s going to be okay with this.”

A shrug for a reply.

“How about we go for breakfast at the dinner from the second time I came? Those checkered things we had were pretty tasty. Waffles, right?”

A small grimace, this time.

“Or how about that strange P‘e’zza place? I’ve never had ice pizza before.”

“You’ve never had any kind of pizza before,” Kris said, their voice filled with confusion and disgust. So, now their words came out. Of course. They continued to mutter, “You’re first pizza isn’t gonna be a goddamn Ice P‘e’zza. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Ralsei flashed a small smile as he put his paws up in defence. Soft chuckles falling from his lips.

“It’s just…” He barely said before his sentence trailed off. Gaze turning to the sleeping world outside of his window. Kris reached over to take his paw and intertwined their fingers. Urging him to continue. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, Kris. I don’t want to… Your mother’s going to be so upset if she finds out. She’s going to punish you for an eternity. She’s going to—”

“Be ecstatic.” They said, drawing intricate circles into his fur. “I’m with ‘friends’, remember? She won’t mind.”

“That excuse isn’t going to work forever.”

Kris’ hand lingered with his as their head settled forwards. Staring off into the foggy woods. Easily drifting into deep thought.

Sure, it was a matter of when and not if their mother would ever figure out what was going on. No doubt. There was only so long she could believe whatever she wanted to believe. But, that day wasn’t today and thus that was a problem for future Kris, not them.

That kid’s fucked.

Themselves on the other hand? Present Kris? They had something spectacular to show their lonely prince. No strict rules or possible eternal damnation was going to stop them.

“Don’t worry, Rals.” They drawled as they took their prince’s fluffy face into their hands. “Future Kris’ got it handled.”

Now it was Ralsei’s turn to do the head tilting. His words coming out as jumbled as the thoughts in his head.

“Future Kri—What do you—? Futur—? Are you—?” He almost finished a single thought before Kris ducked under his hat and gently kissed his cheek.

They pulled back, flashed him a quick finger-gun-smirk combo, and put the truck into reverse. Letting out a chuckle as his love pulled up his scarf and down his hat. Hopelessly trying to cover his blush.

His steady was weird. A good kind of weird, though.

One that urged them to word for word recite the passage ‘Alas, Poor Yorick’ for no reason. The kind that allowed them to remember the rules to a satanic ritual but not the order of operations. A special kind of weird that caused them to resign to shackle themselves to a dungeon wall and eat floor moss.

They were all things he loved about them but, they were weird nonetheless.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s eternally grateful for Kris falling that day. He thanks the pillar of darkness every day. But, it’s just that any kind of kisses from them was so overwhelming. The simple act causing his cheeks to match his scarf’s hue. Though, he never complained because they also always calmed him like magic.

Why was being in love was so complicated?

Luckily, it was less complicated than driving. Of which the basic mechanics were entirely lost to him.

The truck jostled along the dirt road. Its headlights the illuminating the surrounding foggy woods as they went.

Kris’ knuckles had turned white a few miles back. Changing shades as they had turned off of paved streets and onto rougher terrain. Through their shaggy bangs, lidded eyes had never once deviated from the road. Perhaps they were being too cautious. Too wary. But, how could they not be? They were carrying the most precious cargo.

At just the thought of him, their eyes flicked to Ralsei curled up on his seat. Gaze settled outside his window. Intently watching the world rush by. Yawning every so often.

A small smile graced their face. They leaned back in their seat and released some of the tension in their fingers. Settling into a focused-yet-more-relaxed driving mode.

The road ahead got tighter as it began to curve. Letting them ‘round the side of one of Appalachia’s many mountains. Engine rumbling as they went. Luckily, for them, the truck had made this trip several times. Though they hadn’t been in the driver’s seat.

Glimpses of the past revealed themselves as their destination grew closer. A dozing Asriel sitting beside them. Eyes and head drooping as he fought back the dastardly enemy that was sleep. Their parents in the front seats, both humming along to the turned down the radio.

That’s when they saw it.

A nice patch of the mountainside overlooked valleys below. Tall, wild grass with flowers sprouting up in patches. They pulled up. Easing the truck to a full stop a couple meters from the optimal gazing spot.

Their whole body relaxed, finally. Head lolling back onto the headrest. Letting out a breath and closing their eyes. Knowing they made the trip here safely.

“We’re here?” Ralsei asked, yawning as his bones cracked while he stretched.

They threw him a lazy thumbs-up and clicked their tongue. Catching his yawn before holding out a hand, “Specs, please.”

His head and eyebrows cocked at their request. The urge to ask at least several questions rising in him. But, knowing Kris, they wouldn’t answer any of them.

With a sigh, he let the world turn blurry as he handed his glasses away. Soon after, scarred digits took a hold of his scarf, pulling it loose. Guiding it from his neck to cover his eyes. Before the world went dark as they tied a tight knot at the back.

Now, sound and touch were all he had to go on. Kris’ soft hum once they were finished tying. The clicks of their seat belts unbuckling and the whirring of them gliding back into place. A thunk as their door of the truck swung open. Another as his side opened.

Their hands guiding him out of the vehicle and over to an unknown spot. The dewy grass under his paws and roundness of the air. And finally, the familiar weight of his glasses returning.

He blinked once and then twice before his jaw dropped.

A golden world awaited him.

The sky he had fawned over weeks prior seemed so much more expansive. Stretching from the ends of the earth, blanketing everything around them in a warm hue. Streaks of orange, red, and yellow danced along it. Like a painter’s brush strokes. All independent at times. Before blending together to make the wondrous painting in front of him. Light, fluffy clouds lazily drifted across the background.

And in the center of it all?

A thing, once upon a time, he’d never thought he’d get to see.

The Lightners’ brightest star.

No, it was his too now.

Their brightest star. Their most prized possession rose from the horizon. Slowly but surely making its way to its throne in the heavens. Lighting up their little corner of the world. Not that he could quite remember it wasn’t just him and the celestial body. No, as he gazed upon the sun and a wave of serenity washed over him, it felt like there was no one else left on Earth.

Wait, there was someone else with them.

Ralsei pulled his sight away from his new friend to his real-life company. His silent knight.

Kris sat close beside. Their form bathed in the rays as they sprawled out in the tall grass. Golden light illuminating their whole body. Creating a god-like glow around them. At last, they seemed to be at peace. Then, as their head lolled back, their long bangs fell to either side. Revealing the gems they kept hidden from the world.

An occurrence rarer than any blue moon.

Maroon irises admired the painting before them. They were filled with something he couldn’t quite place. Contentment? Amazement? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, when their eyes drifted from the sunrise over to him, it was still there.

Oh…

Perhaps it was love.

He still had to come to terms with that fact. That somebody alive and sentient loved him. Somebody as wonderful as Kris loved a wreck like him. A tiny ball of nerves and anxiety. Terrified of falling too fast and too hard. Being too needy. Too much much of a bother. Being too… everything. And not being what Kris needed.

But,

They never seemed to mind.

They always were an attentive listener to all his rambling but, always knew the right time to stop him. Lest he enters a perpetually downward spiral.

They were one hundred percent willing to become the hero that he needed. Not questioning ludicrous, reality breaking implications for anything he told them.

And when they were ready, Kris would talk for hours.

About stories from when they were younger.

Barely believable conspiracy theories.

Loosely connected thoughts stringed together profoundly.

They were just so perfect.

And this, the sneaking out in the early morning, the quiet drive, and the sunset. It was all just so…

Perfect.

Kris reached out and laced their fingers together again. Pulling him out of his thoughts. Right on time as always. They gazed at him with, his throat tightened, love-filled eyes. Their usual neutral expression replaced with upturned lips and those softened gems.

Oh, darkness, don’t cry.

Don’t cry, Ralsei.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

Dammit.

“Kris,” He choked out as tears began to well. They threatened to fall and ruin this perfect moment. Kris’ perfect moment for him. No, he had to pull himself together. “This is, this is. It’s…”

Yep, stuttering is a surefire sign of someone who’s totally not on the verge of a breakdown. So embarrassing. SO EMBARRASSING!

“Rals,” They began softly. Eyes squinting as they searched for the right words. “It’s… okay. Tears of joy, right? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Not helping. Not helping at all.

“Oh, damn it all.” He cursed as he mustered up all the courage he had. Within the second, he bounded over to his steady. His beloved hat falling to the wayside as he wrapped his arms around them. Burrowing his nose into their neck. Inhaling their piney scent as he blurted out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The two stayed like that for a while. Enjoying each other’s body heat and tight holds. But, all good things must come to an end. And this good thing ended once he pulled back. Quickly realizing their current position.

His arms rested linked on their shoulders as he sat in their lap. And with their hands settled on his hips, their bodies were close.

Super close.

Close enough for a… kiss?

Yes, Kris thought as their hand made its way up to his cheek. Close enough to stare into his galaxies for eyes. Close enough to breathe the same air. Close enough for his head to block out the morning sun. Creating a glowing halo around him.

Definitely close enough.

Also, definitely a perfect way to punctuate their date.

But, alas,

Mother Nature had another idea in mind.

“Was that a raindrop?” Ralsei blinked and shook the excess wetness off of his snout. He rose from their lap to scan the horizon. Brows furrowed as he adjusted his glasses, “But, there aren’t any clouds?”

Despite the obvious lack of cloud coverage, rain began to pour down on them.

Kris, reluctantly, got to their feet. Their fingers ran through their messy brown locks as they closed their eyes. At least they got their sunrise.

With a deep sigh, they called out to their love, “We… should get back. Sorry about this.”

“Why?” Their eyes shot open at his question. That’s when they saw him. Spinning around on the balls of his feet as his giggles resounded through the air. His arms swung and legs kicked as he jaunted around the field. “This is amazing! How weird is this! Raining while the sun’s still shining! I’ve never heard of this. What is this, Kris?”

Oh.

My.

God.

He wasn’t upset?

“Sun showers,” They answered like a ditz. Their mind still running wild. Trying to comprehend how he could be this happy about it raining on their perfect date. “They, uh, happen sometimes. You don’t want to go?”

“No! I love it!” Hat long forgotten, he ran up to them, eyes a glow. Hands outstretched until they intertwined with theirs. “Dance with me!”

It was less of a question and more of a demand, not that they minded though. With all his might, Ralsei swung them around the wild grass. Dancing something between the waltz and a folksy jig. Loudly humming out a familiar tune. Soon, their laughs joined his humming. Until both faded and only the gentle beats of the rain were left.

They were close once more.

Super close.

Now or never.

Kris straightened their back and cleared their throat before asking, “Do you, maybe, want to—”

“Yes.” He cut them off, a look of pure unadulterated love on his face.

And then, they did it.

They kissed.

It technically wasn't a perfect kiss. The rain continued to beat down. Their now soaked clothes uncomfortably clung to their bodies. His fur wasn’t as soft and fluffy as it usually was. It was more damp and kinda spiky. Their skin somehow felt sweaty and tight. But,

None of that mattered.

Nope. Not to them.

Somehow, like everything else about the two of them, it was perfect.

Perhaps, their imperfections were what’s perfect.

At least to them.

And in the end, isn’t that the only thing that matters?

The End!!

I hope you've enjoyed reading this. If you did, any kind of comment would be appreciated!

I've been working on it for a loooong time. Just glad it's all finished! Finally, I'm free!

#kris dreemurr #ralsei #deltarune #krisei #kralsei #fanfic #fluff #semi angsty #also lots of headcanons

85 notes · View notes

transarchivist · 5 years ago

Text

hey heres ch1 of my time travel fix it, (or read on ao3)

“That’s probably enough time spent making my excuses for the state of this place, and I suppose we have to begin somewhere.

Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh. Original statement given April twenty-second, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.”

That’s when something went wrong.

Jonathan Sims let out an agonized groan of pain as he felt his head all but split open, the pain immediate and debilitating. He clutched his head, grabbing onto his hair with a white knuckle grip, and distantly he wondered what he was holding in his left hand- something long and thin- and why the texture on his right hand felt wrong, but the pain numbed his mind.

The Archivist was faintly reminded of the myth of Athena, how she sprang fully formed from the head of Zeus.

However, Jonathan Sims could only clutch and curl around himself as he slid from his chair and sank to his knees.

He couldn’t make sense of anything. Everything was wrong. This was his office, why was he in his office? Why was he in the institute? He was doing his job, he was reading a statement, the first statement- no that was wrong. That was wrong. He had read statements and he had taken statements and he had echoed the monologue of a madman and he had heralded the end of days.

Everything clicked, another jolt of pain, and all he could do was breathe. He felt rivulets of something warm run down his face, tears? Blood? He couldn’t make himself care.

He felt the Eye upon the nape of his neck and deep in his head and situated in the basin of his chest. His breaths steadied.

Slowly, The Archivist, Jonathan Sims, began to come back to himself, but was violently interrupted by frantic hands on his shoulders.

“Jon? Jon!” Who was that?

“Jesus, Jon!” Tim, he knew that, and-

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Martin.

Finally he had a coherent thought- no. No, an ambulance would be bad.

He felt two pairs of hands begin to pull him up as he managed to speak, “No, no,” deep breath, the slightest frantic edge to his voice, “don’t call an ambulance.”

“Wh- What? Why?” Incredulous.

“I, I’m fine,” he breathed, finally sitting up and half leaning on the two people behind him.

It wasn’t really a shriek, what he heard from his left, but it was akin to it.

“There’s blood all over your face!” Tim, worried. Not mad. Not angry, not furious, not desperate for revenge.

Jon realized that his vision was, in fact, a bit blurry and tinted red. Must of been blood. He raised a hand to wipe at his face, and oh, he was holding something.

“What is that?” The voice on his left, who was that-

“My rib.”

“Your what?!” A chorus.

Funny, he remembered having this conversation with Basira.

“My rib, it’s fine,”

“It’s really not!” Martin.

“I’ll,” words were fuzzy, somehow. “I’ll explain, just give me a minute,”

His vision was slowly clearing as he pawed at his eyes so he more Saw then saw when Martin began to move towards the door to his small office.

“Do not call an ambulance.”

They didn’t seem to have much to say as Jon placed the rib on his desk and used his sleeves to finally usher in some sort of cleanness to his face. It didn’t work fantastically, but he figured it was enough when he heard,

“What the hell happened to your face?” Tim.

“Worms.” He said dryly, rising to his feet.

“What is that supposed to mean!” More of an exclamation than a question.

A pair of hands was still on his left shoulder, who was that?

Sasha.

“Oh,” was all he managed to breathe as he looked upon the face of his forgotten assistant.

“Jon?” She met his eyes, worry and confusion.

She looked nothing like the Not Sasha that had stolen her place. Part of the fun, he figured. He didn’t know how to feel. Relief, maybe? It had worked, he was back.

“I’m going to go make some tea.” Martin said resolutely, with a firm nod.

He was back.

The Archivist felt the feeling of being watched intensify upon his shoulders. Shit.

“Elias- we need to get into the tunnels.” Jon rose from his seat with a start.

“Elias?” Sasha. Wrong, it didn’t fit, but it was her. It was her.

“What tunnels?” Tim.

Oh, right, yes, this was before Jane attacked. Would there be worms in the tunnels, this early? No, probably not. Hopefully.

“There’s tunnels below the Institute, they connect to the old Millbank Prison.” And the Panopticon.

“Robert Smirke’s Millbank Prison?” Tim was excited, Smirke had been a favorite of his.

“Yes.”

Jon knew where the trap door was, he had ventured down into the tunnels many times before. Right now, it was under a box of statements. He had forgotten just how much of a mess this place was in the beginning.

“Help me with this, would you?”

Tim and Sasha- it was going to take a while to get used to her- helped him tug the box across the floor, revealing the worn patch of floor that was just a bit different from its surroundings.

He didn’t have the key, but maybe they could wrench it open?

Jon knelt on the floor, gesturing for the others to join him. “We need to get this open,” he said, running his fingers along the dusty floor, trying to find a place to grip.

“What is this, exactly?” Sasha.

“Trap door,” he muttered, finally finding a meager hand hold. The dried blood that he had wiped onto his hands flaked off as he scratched at the wood. Why couldn’t the Eye of given him some sort of super strength?

Tim and Sasha joined him.

“I don’t think this is going to work, boss.”

“Well it better, otherwise we’re going to have to tear down a wall,”

“What?” Martin had rejoined them, carefully balancing four cups of tea.

Wait- Martin was strong. Jon remembered, at the safehouse. Martin all but picked him up and hauled him to his feet when- when he had ended the world. When they looked at the sky and the sky looked back and it was terrible and beautiful and-

No. Now was not the time to get into all that.

“Martin, could you help us with this, please?”

Pause.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Boss, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to Martin.” Tim joked, a bit incredulous as Martin blushed wildly and tried to stammer something, still precariously carrying the cups.

Oh, right. He was… he was rude to Martin, in the beginning. Guilt struck Jon heavily in the chest, a sinking, suffocating feeling.

Enough- he was here, he was back, and he was going to fix things. Do it right, this time.

“Just,” a breath, “please come help us with this. I’ll explain everything once we’re-” Safe? Out of sight? “In the tunnels.”

“Okay, Jon.”

#might post the chapters seperately on here too!#tma #my writing #mine #ante meridian

14 notes · View notes