#sinking with this ship idc

[alonelybih]

*Jey and Rhea after Smackdown arguing *

Rhea: I can’t lose you too, okay!!? (looking away trying to hide the tears in her eyes)

Jey: Why? Look at me. Why? (grabbing her face to make her look at him)

Rhea: You know why. It’s over. I’m in love with you. You win so…don’t leave. Please, stay with me.

[localravenclaw]

[walk-to-gallows]

So many people just do not understand John Winchester I'm afraid. I will be gatekeeping him. He's my pathetic, miserable, destructive wreck of a father and I like him the way that he is.

[yoondepity]

yall think he xuan listens to super tuna every morning while getting ready?

[ritsusha]

i spent today sorting and editing some game recordings that i have on my computer because they are so messed up and boyyy it was a ride!!!!! i am already an emotional wreck when it comes to the games i love but honkai impact 3rd being my biggest comfort game takes it to the next level. oh how much would i give to experience the story for the first time again haha

[heliosunny]

PLEASE need some hsr mermay content IDC WHO PLEASE I TAKE ANY MERMAY CONTENT 🙏🙏🙏

Deadly Gamble

Yandere!Merman!Aventurine x Reader

The sea had been a mirror of tranquility just moments before, its surface glinting under the moonlight like scattered coins. Then, without warning, the waves rose in fury, their dark crests slamming against the ship's hull with enough force to send tremors through the deck. The storm had descended like a predator, but even its wrath paled in comparison to what came with it.

The singing slithered through the chaos first. It wove between the howling wind and the crew's panicked shouts.

"Don't listen to them!" Came the captain's voice, his hands locked onto the wheel as the ship pitched violently.

But the warning came as the first sailor staggered toward the railing. "They're... they're singing for me..."

You reached for him, fingers brushing his sleeve just as he leaned over the edge and the water beneath him erupted, dragging him down before his scream could even leave his throat.

The deck shuddered beneath your feet as another wave struck. A jagged crack split the planks near the mast, seawater surging through the breach. Someone shouted, "We're going down!" before the world tilted, and the ocean swallowed everything.

Cold was the first sensation that pierced the fog in your mind. Your body was leaden, half-buried in wet sand, each breath burning as you coughed up saltwater. The storm had spat you out, though every muscle screamed in protest as you pushed yourself onto your elbows.

The second thing you noticed was the silence. No wind. Just the gentle lap of waves and the distant cry of gulls.

"Now this is a surprise."

Slowly, you turned your head.

Aventurine lounged in the shallows, his tail, gleaming like spilled gold, curled lazily beneath him.

"Most humans don't survive" he mused, tilting his head. His fingers trailed through the water, sending ripples toward you.

He moved suddenly, closing the distance between you in one fluid motion. His hand closed around your wrist. "Let's see how long that luck holds."

The water was rising around your legs, his pull relentless, and panic clawed up your throat.

"Oi! Get away from them!"

A rock struck the water near Aventurine's shoulder, sending up a spray. He recoiled with a hiss, his grip loosening just enough for you to wrench free. A villager stood further up the shore, a fishing spear leveled in warning.

For a heartbeat, Aventurine didn't move. His gaze flicked from you to the interloper. Then, with a low laugh, he leaned back, sinking into the waves.

"Run along, little fish," he murmured, his voice carrying even as the water swallowed him whole. "But remember, the ocean always takes what it's owed."

You were alive.

For now.

The village had been kind to you, feeding you, clothing you, letting you rest in a small but warm inn by the shore. The locals spoke of the mermen with wary resignation, as one might speak of storms or droughts.

"Just don’t wander too close to the water." an old fisherman had told you, his gnarled hands mending a net. 

You had been careful.

Yet here you were, barefoot in the damp sand, the cold tide licking at your ankles.

The sound had woken you, a melody, tugging at your limbs like puppet strings. You hadn’t even realized you were moving until the salt-sting of the sea air snapped you back to awareness.

And there he was.

Aventurine perched on a jagged rock just beyond the shallows, his tail flicking idly against the surf. Moonlight gilded the sharp angles of his face, his eyes gleaming as his song faded into a smirk.

"Sleepwalking, little fish?" he crooned, tilting his head. "Or just eager to see me again?"

Your fingers scrambled for a weapon—a rock, a piece of driftwood, anything—but the beach offered nothing.

"You dragged me here" you spat.

"I merely… invited. You came all on your own." He leaned forward, bracing his chin on one hand. "Admit it. Part of you wanted to."

You took a step back. "What do you want?"

"A conversation." His tail lashed, sending up a spray of seawater. "You’re not like the others. They die. But you…" His gaze raked over you. "You survived."

"That’s just luck."

"Luck?" He grinned. "Oh, sweet thing. Luck is my domain." He slid from the rock, disappearing beneath the waves for a heartbeat before resurfacing closer. "Tell me your name."

The command slithered into your bones, sweet and heavy. Your lips parted—Then you clenched your jaw.

"I’m leaving."

"Fine. Run back to your little hovel. But we’re not done."

You didn’t wait to hear more.

The sand was cold underfoot as you fled, his laughter chasing you all the way back to the inn.

You locked the door.

The news of an incoming ship spread through the village. Finally, a way home. You should have felt relief. Instead, your fingers tightened around the edge of your drink as you sat in the dim-lit tavern of the inn, the weight of unseen eyes prickling the back of your neck.

The innkeeper had hired new help.

You recognized him instantly.

But you played along.

"New here?" you asked, feigning ignorance as he slid into the seat across from you.

"A traveler, just passing through" Aventurine replied. His fingers drummed against the wooden table. "Heard there’s a ship coming soon. You planning to board?"

You took a slow sip of your ale, watching him over the rim. "Maybe. Depends on if the sea’s in a good mood."

He chuckled. "Luck’s a fickle thing, isn’t it? I’ve got a theory—some people are just born under lucky stars. Others…" His gaze flickered to the window, where the ocean churned in the distance. "Others make their own luck."

"And which one are you?"

His grin widened. "Why don’t you find out?"

For days, he wove himself into your routine, bringing you meals, lingering in conversation, his words laced with double meanings. He was testing you, seeing how long it would take for you to break.

Instead, you matched him.

The night before the ship’s arrival, you found him on the inn’s back porch, staring at the moonlit waves.

"No disguise tonight?" you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Would it matter if I did?"

You stepped closer. "Why bother with this charade?"

Finally, he looked at you, his eyes gleaming with something almost like respect. "Because you’re interesting."

"You could stay"

You raised a brow. "And what? Become your next meal?"

He laughed. "Oh, little fish. If I wanted to eat you, you’d already be gone."

The ship would come.

The choice, for now, was yours.

And as you walked away, you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper

"Luck favors the bold."

You had spent your last days in the village sharpening knives and weaving nets into makeshift traps. The villagers warned you—no one hunts the mermen and lives to tell the tale. But you were done playing his games.

The night before the ship arrived, you waited by the shore with a harpoon stolen from the docks, the moon hidden behind storm clouds. The sea was eerily calm.

Then, a ripple. A flicker of gold beneath the waves.

You lunged before you could think, driving the harpoon into the water with all your strength.

And missed.

Aventurine surfaced just inches from the blade, his laughter ringing like wind chimes in a hurricane. "Oh, little fish, did you really think it would be that easy?"

You snarled and struck again. This time, a rogue wave knocked you off your feet before the harpoon could find its mark.

He tsked, swimming lazy circles around you as you sputtered in the shallows. "So predictable." Then his grin turned razor-edged. "But don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Before you could reply, he was gone.

The ship arrived at dawn, a sturdy merchant vessel, its crew none the wiser to the predators lurking beneath the waves. You boarded with your jaw set, your fingers brushing the knife hidden in your sleeve. Let him try.

The attack came just as the ship reached open water.

One moment, the deck was bustling with sailors; the next, screams erupted as sinuous forms vaulted over the rails.

You barely had time to draw your blade before he was on you, his grip iron-strong as he dragged you toward the railing.

"This," he purred against your ear, "is where your luck runs out."

The water swallowed you whole, the surface receding as he pulled you deeper, his kin following with other struggling victims in tow. You fought, clawing at his arms, but his smile never wavered.

His teeth sank into your shoulder. You gasped… and instead of choking on seawater, you breathed. Your eyes flew wide.

Aventurine released you, licking a drop of blood from his lips. "A gift" he said, as the other mermen began tearing into their prey. "And a curse." He leaned in. "You have seven days. After that?" His tail coiled around you. "You will die."

Seven days.

Seven days to find a way out.

Or seven days until the ocean claimed you for good.

The other mermen circled you like sharks scenting blood, their eyes gleaming with amusement. You were Aventurine’s discarded toy, a plaything he had bitten and left to drown—but not quickly enough.

One reached out, claws grazing your arm. "The human!" he hissed.

You didn’t wait for them to strike first.

Snatching a jagged piece of driftwood from the seabed, you swung. It connected with the first merman’s temple, sending him reeling back with a snarl. The others hissed in surprise.

You barely dodged, twisting away as teeth snapped where your throat had been. Kicking off the ocean floor, you swam for the surface, lungs burning despite the cursed gift of Aventurine’s bite. But they were faster. A hand closed around your ankle, yanking you back down.

Crack

A ship’s broken mast, torn loose in the storm above, plunged into the water like a spear, impaling the merman holding you. The others scattered as the heavy timber pinned their kin to the seabed.

Aventurine found you washed up on a desolate atoll, gasping and bleeding.

He emerged from the waves with a slow, mocking clap. "Bravo" he drawled. "I almost thought you’d make it." His eyes flicked over your trembling form. "But your luck’s run out, darling."

"Then take it back."

"Take what?"

"Your gift." You staggered to your feet. "You want me dead? Fine. But I won’t drown for your amusement."

He laughed, slithering closer. "And how do you plan to—"

Your hands locked around his wrists, and with every ounce of strength left, you pulled. He stumbled, tail flailing—and then you twisted, dragging him onto the sharp rocks lining the shore.

"You—"

"If I’ve got the worst luck," you spat, pinning him down as his scales scraped against stone, "then so do you."

A wave, monstrous and sudden, crashed over you both, wrenching you back into the sea. Saltwater filled your mouth, your vision darkening as the current tore you apart—

And then his hands were on you, shoving you toward the surface.

You broke through, coughing, just in time to see him vanish into the depths.

You dragged yourself onto the rocks, breathing hard.

---

Six days left.

And now? He was angry.

Aventurine had always played his games alone.

But now, the whispers slithered through the reefs, the human had wounded him. Not just in flesh, but in pride. And the other mermen, sensing blood in the water, were eager to finish what he had started.

One in particular, a brash hunter with emerald scales, had already set off toward the shallows. "I'll bring you their heart"

Aventurine killed him.

"Anyone else..." he looked up at the others, flicking blood from his claws, "want to interfere?"

Silence.

But vengeance required more than intimidation. So he descended—down, down, past the carcasses of sunken ships, past the trenches where light dared not reach, to the abyss where the sea witch lurked.

"Aventurine," she crooned. "Come to beg?"

He tossed the hunter’s severed fin at her feet. "Come to bargain."

She laughed. "Is it about that specific human? Want them to suffer?"

"I want them to understand," he corrected, "What it means to lose everything to luck."

The witch leaned forward, her ink-black hair swirling. "Then take their luck away." She pressed a vial into his palm, inside the vial, liquid gold swirled. "One drop… and Fortune will abandon them forever."

Aventurine’s fingers curled around it. Perfect.

The storm raged above the waves as Aventurine cornered you against the jagged rocks of a coastal cave, his eyes gleaming with predatory delight. The vial of cursed luck glinted in his hand. Took quite the effort to bring you here.

"You've been quite the problem, but every game must end."

"You don't have to do this. I will die eventually."

"Oh, but I want to," he hissed, baring sharp teeth. With terrifying speed, his hand gripped your wrist, the other tipping the vial toward your lips.

You thrashed, turning your face away as the golden liquid spilled, only for a rogue wave to slam into the cave, knocking you both sideways. The vial flew from his grasp, spinning through the water—

And shattered against his chest instead.

The effect was instant.

The liquid seeped into his scales like poison. His pupils shrank to slits as realization dawned.

"NO!"

The ocean itself seemed to turn against him. A current wrenched him backward into the cave wall. A jagged rock gashed his tail as he crashed against the reef. He hissed in pain—only for a startled moray eel to dart from the coral and sink its teeth into his arm.

He was unlucky now.

And despite everything, you hate to witness the scene.

You swam forward and seized his wrist.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled, trying to jerk away.

"If I let go, you'll die."

You loosened your grip—just slightly.

A nearby conch shell, dislodged by a flick of his tail, plummeted and cracked against his skull.

You tightened your hold with a sigh. "We need to fix this."

The journey to the sea witch’s lair was a nightmare.

Every movement Aventurine made invited disaster. A school of venomous jellyfish drifted into his path. A dormant volcano rumbled beneath you, spewing boiling vents. Once, a shark—his own ally—mistook his shimmering scales for prey and took a chunk from his fin.

By the time the abyss opened before you, he was bleeding, seething, and utterly humiliated.

The sea witch’s laughter echoed through her cathedral of bones.

"Ohhh," she cooed, circling you both. "This is marvellous!"

"Undo it" Aventurine demanded.

"Or what?" She flicked his nose. "You’ll trip me to death?"

You stepped between them. "There has to be a way to lift the curse. For both of us."

The witch paused. "Why would you help him?"

You didn’t answer.

She smirked. "A trade, then. His luck returns… if you give me your remaining days."

"No."

"Deal." You ignored him.

The witch’s grin split her face. "Then hold still—"

Aventurine moved.

His free hand snatched a rusted dagger from the witch’s belt—and plunged it into her throat.

Her shriek shook the ocean. Black blood clouded the water as her magic unraveled in a whirlpool of curses. The vial’s effects shattered.

And your borrowed time?

Still ticking.

Panting, Aventurine glared at you. "Never do that again. You suck at bargaining."

"Let’s just go back."

The sea witch’s blood still clouded the water around you, her dying curse echoing in the silence. Aventurine’s grip on your hand was iron-tight—not out of affection, but necessity. Without you, his own luck was a liability.

You studied his sharp profile, the way his jaw clenched as he scanned the dark waters ahead. Why did he stop you? He could have let the witch take your remaining days.

As if sensing your thoughts, he scoffed. "Don’t look at me like that. I just hate owing debts."

You almost laughed. "So stabbing her was… what? A favor?"

"A solution," he snapped, tail flicking irritably—only to dislodge a rock that nearly brained him. He scowled. "We need to find another way. Before your time runs out."

The words hung between you. Five days. Maybe less.

The ocean had never felt so vast.

With your free hand, you sifted through the wreckage of sunken ships while Aventurine begrudgingly directed you toward hidden merfolk archives—places where old magic might still linger.

"Here, try to find something useful."

You reached for one, but he yanked you back just as a dagger—rusty and loose from its display—clattered down where your hand had been.

"This is exhausting."

You sighed. "Then let’s hurry."

The first two days passed in a blur of near-misses and dead ends.

Aventurine, despite his pride, refused to let go. Not when a collapsing tunnel nearly crushed him. Not when a rogue current almost swept you both.

By the third day, frustration simmered beneath his skin.

"There’s nothing," he snarled, flipping over a table in the ruins of an undersea shrine.

"Wait." Your fingers brushed a mosaic on the wall—a merfolk legend depicting a mortal and a sea spirit bound together. "What’s this?"

"...Two lives becoming one." His voice was oddly quiet.

You turned to him. "Would it work?"

"It would mean sharing your curse." A pause. "And your luck."

The weight of it settled between you.

You had nothing left to lose.

He had everything to gain.

"Do it." you said.

Aventurine’s grip tightened. "You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to."

"I know my time is up." You held his gaze. "And I know you hate losing."

For once, he had no clever retort.

The ritual was simple.

A cut on his palm. A cut on yours. Blood mingling in the water as ancient words spilled from his lips.

Pain lanced through you, sharp and bright, as something shifted. Your vision blurred; your lungs burned. Then—

"...It’s done."

You looked down. The mark from his bite was gone.

And when you finally,��finally let go of his hand?

Nothing bad happens to him.

"Come on, little fish" he muttered, tugging you toward the surface. "Want some fresh air?"

The ritual had changed something fundamental between you—and Aventurine wasn't acting like himself.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. The way his fingers lingered when passing you seaweed-wrapped fish. How his eyes tracked your movements like a compass finding north. When you climbed onto the shore of a deserted island to gather driftwood, he transformed his tail into human legs (a glamour, he'd grumbled, not his favorite form) and followed.

"You don't have to come" you said, watching him scowl at the way the grains stuck to his skin.

"I know" he snapped, but made no move to return to the waves.

The realization hit when a stray fishing hook snagged your sleeve, nearly dragging you into the water. Aventurine, halfway across the beach, flinched as if he'd felt the tug too.

You froze. "Did you just—"

"No" he lied, too quickly.

You pressed your palm to his chest. His heartbeat thundered against your fingertips—matching yours.

"You didn't tell me it would be like this." 

He looked away. "Would you have agreed if I did?"

The answer hung between you.

The mermen noticed.

Of course they did.

Aventurine had always been untouchable—a creature of chaos and cunning, feared even by his own kind. Now? He was vulnerable. 

They came at dusk, their silvered knives glinting beneath the waves.

"Traitor," one hissed, circling you both. "You've bound yourself to a human."

Aventurine's grip on your waist tightened. "Say that again," he purred, "and I'll turn your spine into a necklace."

But the threat rang hollow. They knew.

Hurt you, and he'd bleed.

Kill you, and he'd die.

They lunged forward. Only for Aventurine to move, faster than you'd ever seen, his borrowed human strength fueled by something raw and desperate. The attacker's body hit the sand with a wet thud, throat slit.

Aventurine turned to you. His glamour was slipping, gills flaring at his neck.

"We can't stay here" 

You stared at the corpse, then at him. "Where can we go?"

"Wherever the tide takes us."

That night, as you drifted on a stolen fishing boat beneath a sky full of stars, Aventurine finally admitted the truth.

"The ritual wasn't just about sharing time," he said, fingers tracing the new mark on your wrist. "It was about sharing fate."

You swallowed. "So if I die..."

"I die. And vice versa." He said it casually. "Annoying, isn't it?"

You laughed, despite everything. "You hate this."

"I loathe it." he agreed, but when you shifted closer, he didn't pull away.

Somewhere in the dark water below, his kin were hunting.

But for now?

You had time.

----

It felt like a beginning.

He had never done anything like this before.

Aventurine crouched in the moonlit shallows, his claws dripping with seawater and something darker. The bodies of his former kin floated just beneath the surface, their lifeless eyes staring up at the stars they would never see again. Their blood swirled around him like ink in the tide, their stolen life force threading through the water—his to claim.

Pathetic, he thought, watching the last of the ritual’s glow fade from his fingertips. Sacrificing fools for a human’s sake.

But it wasn’t just your life he was extending.

It was his.

And that, at least, made sense.

You found him at dawn.

He was sprawled on a half-sunken rock, his tail streaked with fresh wounds, his breathing deliberately slow. When you called his name, he didn’t startle. Just turned his head lazily, as if he’d been waiting.

"There you are, little fish." he drawled. "Sleep well?"

You ignored the taunt, wading into the surf to inspect the gashes along his side. "What happened?"

"Hunting accident." He flicked a claw toward the horizon, where the first pale bodies were just beginning to wash ashore. 

You frowned. "They’re… dead?"

"Mm. Unfortunate." He watched your face, searching for disgust, for horror—but all you did was press a hand to the worst of his injuries.

"You’re bleeding." 

He almost laughed. Oh, darling. If only you knew.

But he wouldn’t tell you. Not just because you might recoil.

Because this was his secret to keep.

That night, when you slept, he pressed two fingers to the mark on your wrist, the one that bound you together, and felt the steady, strong pulse of it.

Ridiculous, he thought.

And yet.

When you shifted in your sleep, your fingers brushing his, he didn’t pull away.

The next morning, you caught him staring at the horizon.

"What are you thinking about?" 

He smirked. "How much I hate owing favors."

You rolled your eyes. "You don’t owe me anything."

"Exactly," he said, too lightly. "So don’t expect this to become a habit."

But when you turned away, his gaze dropped to the mark on his own wrist, the one that matched yours, and for the briefest moment, his smirk softened.

Worth it.

[tinydefector]

Giggling rn cuz when it's too hot for me, i just lay on the floor cuz it's cooler. So imagine laying on your bots cold metal berth instead of the small warm bed they made for you and they'd be all like "??? W-why? I made you a warm place to sleep so you don't freeze to death"

That's the thing pookie, idc if you have the AC on or whatever you have on that damn ship, Im still sleeping on something flat, hard and cold

@delectableworm

I think this is so funny cause I atm am going into winter and am wrapped up in blankets XD.

And like imagine bots could work both ways. The ship runs hot cause they are metal beings and the heat helps them function but it makes the human's on board melt cause it's hitting nearly 40°c on the ship and the humans are just sweating their asses off, plating on any cold surface possible including bots then rolling when said patch gets to hot. The turning sinks and bowls into indoor pools just to fight the heat.

But also, bots run that hot they have the ship on 5°c and humans are just cold. Them constantly latched onto the bots cause they run hot and are the humans' walking heater at that point. You'll find bots with humans piled on them with blankets and pillows to soak in the heat radiating off them. Humans wedging themselves under plating. And it leads to somehow how a human ending up curled around one of the bots sparks at one point and bots freaking out cause spark boding is for Conjunx Endura and can result in sparklings Jokes on them, one of the bots gets sparked up by a human. So now it's the fact of stopping humans from seeking out the warmth of their sparks and risk the chance of getting sparked. Them theres other bots who purposefully seek them out for that reason.

A massive sign gets put up.

"DONT LET THE HUMANS CRAWL IN YOUR SPARK CHAMBER YOU WILL GET SPARKED!"

"CHECK ARMOUR FOR HUMANS BEFORE RECHARGING!"

Bot who got sparked was infact Megatron and not Rodimus.

Closely followed by Rodimus and Brainstorm being a dumbass wanting to know what it felt like for science.

[timephcbia]

The captain only concerns herself if you are going to give her another ship that hopefully won’t sink again

Mr APPLe needs some help??

[uhhhj13iguess]

I’m gonna need more Rick Sanchez shit. Idc what people say I love that old man. Maybe more stuff like the one where he had a soft spot for the reader? Like expanding more on that? Honestly it’s totally up to you but I would eat that shit up.

Thank you for your service 🫡🫡🫡

christmas cheer

rick sanchez x gn!reader

part two to my og rick sanchez x gn!reader blurb, but you could solidly read this on its own i think. again, not a fleshed out fic, not a headcanon, but a dangerous place in between

summary: you're a family friend and space beth brings you home for the holidays. you've heard across the multiverse about the asshole known as rick sanchez, but for some reason he's... different with you?

wc: ~1.1k

masterlist and taglist!

since space beth brought you home for the holidays, the tension between you and rick has been... well, far too present for everyone's liking. which is weird, because the two of you have exchanged like, a SOLID twenty words. maybe. and the tension from you is expected: who isn't a little in awe of the smartest man in every universe? but the tension coming from rick's side? his random softness towards you, the way he let you into his garage, his room — even when he wasn't there? let's just say, morty was a little peeved.

both beths have prepared a beautiful christmas eve dinner, and after somehow managing to get rick to come out and eat, everyone KNOWS something is up with him, despite his constant deflection of it. rick is a bit more distant than normal and not being as much of an ass and… did he just excuse himself after a burp? jesus, who are you turning him into?

but no one's complaining throughout the meal, the most peaceful one the smith family can remember having. as everything wraps up, you offer to take everyone's plates, heading to the kitchen and starting on the dishes. everyone immediately turns to stare down rick.

summer: okay what the fuck is going on with you grandpa rick

beth: yeah i’ve never seen you so… well mannered

jerry: i, for one, didn’t know it was even possible

spacebeth: i hate to agree with jerry, but you are being weird. are you trying to fuck my high school best friend right now?

rick: what.

morty: grandpa rick, c-come on, i like them! i don’t know what your plan is here, but i-just, just dont. leave them alone!

summer: i think they’d be kinda cute

beth: summer stop shipping your grandpa and my childhood friend. that’s horrible

spacebeth: i mean, it’s honestly the least horrible thing we’ve done in a while

and rick slams his hands down and gets up in a fit of anger: enough! i’m-i’m not doing anything with her! leave me the fuck alone, i don’t care about this shit

he storms out to head back to the garage but pops his head in to let out a: and i’ve done plenty of worse things than this in the last bblueeghghh— h-hour. fuck you for underestimating me.

and while the smiths carry on discussing amongst themselves, you're standing at the sink, frozen. you'd heard the whole thing, and you didn't know how to feel. honestly, you're kinda just glad you're not the only one who sees it, and — wait, did summer admit to shipping us? oh jesus christ

later that night, you follow space beth to the roof for some well-deserved drinking. and you're talking about it, about rick, and how you just feel a certain way around him. you can't describe it, and you feel fucking stupid for trying to, especially to the maybe clone of his daughter. but he's different than how he'd been described to you, and it seems that's out of the ordinary. you can't help but be curious, but you don't want to pass any line or... whatever

you expect to be ridiculed. in the admission of some kind of feelings, you honestly expected to be ridiculed and outed to rick, laughed out of the smith household forever. but space beth takes a long drink and stares at the stars.

space beth: listen, he's the worst piece of shit to have existed, and I can't have you going into this not knowing that... but like pop off queen

you: the fuck do you mean, 'pop off queen'? are you supporting this right now?

space beth: he's been different with you, i don't know. i haven't seen it since... jesus, well, since mom. it's kinda nice to see again.

you: i don't know. i just don't want to make a move and then make the biggest ass out of myself in front of rick fucking sanchez. he'd never let me live it down across the whole fucking multiverse.

and you guys keep talking, unknowing that rick has the garage door propped open and has been listening the entire time. he takes a swig out of his flask, muttering a "jesus fuck" to himself as he forces himself to think about it. he's feeling weird, and doesn't know what the fuck to do about it, but he knows damn well he doesn't want to make you feel how you think he's going to.

both of you drink a little too heavily that evening, drowning yourself in feelings you're both trying so hard to push away.

it's a sunny day on christmas morning as rick nearly crash-lands the spaceship in the front yard, running to the garage with far too much excitement. you can see him from the dining room window, a mischievous look on his face as he runs in, and you can't help but want to get involved.

whatever conversation you had with space beth last night put some confidence in you, and you walk out to greet him.

you inch closer, noticing his back is turned to you and you can't see what he's doing. you call out for him, feeling bold, but you're met with no response. you walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, hoping, praying it doesn't get shot off the second you make contact with him. it doesn't. actually, you're met with his shoulders relaxing at the touch when he turns to see it's you. rick fully spins around in his chair, credit card in hand, pink dust around his nose, and eyes redder than you'd ever seen.

a smile tugs at your lips as you roll your eyes at him: rick, it's nine in the morning on christmas. what on earth is this?

rick: ah ah ah, what in the testicle monster dimension is this. kalaxian crystals, o-only the finest way to spread some christmas cheer.

you'd heard about kalaxian crystals before, a fleeting but impressively strong high. you weren't exactly a prude when it came to drugs, especially having spent the last year with rick's daughter, so you offer him a smirk and a genuine without me? your eyes widen in shock at your own confidence.

rick returns with a full belly laugh, a sound that knocked all of said confidence out of your knees: be my guest, sweetheart

you were high off the pet name even before the first bump

as you leaned forward to partake, you couldn't shake the feeling of rick's eyes burning holes in the back of your head, and the sudden rush of the kalaxian only amplified it. you threw your head back, a mix between a giggle and a cough escaping your lips as you turned to face rick, your eyes just a red and blown as his.

whether it was the crystal or the close proximity, he didn't know, but rick couldn't take his eyes off of you. the way your hair flipped back as you came back to a standing position, the way you were still in your candy cane striped pajamas, revealing a little more skin than he'd been used to seeing you in. the sound of your laugh echoed in his garage, and rick felt like he was fucking tweaking.

not even in a bad way, but anxiety coursed through his veins as his thoughts ran wild, thoughts he hadn't had towards someone in over forty years. fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

and fuck, he couldn't take it anymore.

rick stood from his chair with such force it fell to the garage floor behind him, nearly lunging for you as he backed you against his counter. you were both breathless, pupils shot as you stared at each other through the colorful haze of the crystal.

rick: y-you have --uuuuurrrppp-- no idea what you're doing to me

a smirk fell on your lips, a mysterious pride racing through you: oh yeah?

rick: y-yeah. fuck, i-i-i, i don't know. i don't know, and i fucking hate it. i hate how distracting you are, and how --uuurrppppp-- how i can't fucking get you out of my head. i'm actually half convinced you're here as a ruse to take me down

you gave him a smile, one so contagious, rick was now positive you had some kind of trance on him. but he couldn't care less, something about you bringing his mind to an ease he never thought he'd experience again.

a groan escaped his lips as rick let out a deep: oh, for fucks sake

rick leaned down immediately, connecting your lips with a kind of passion and revernence you didn't expect, a hold on you that didn't meet the harsh words heard about him around the galaxy. nothing about the way he kissed you was mean or selfish, and maybe it was the crystal talking, but holy shit you could do this forever.

he pulled back, searching for any uncertainty in your eyes. any signs he'd fucked up like he always does, hurting you like half the family already expected him to. but as rick saw the glimmer in your eyes and your plush pink lips matching the same tinge on your cheeks, it erased any self-doubt he had.

rick opened his mouth to speak, to say something cocky and ruin the moment, to tease you, but he was cut off with a slow clap coming from behind him. morty and summer stood with smirks on their lips and mischief in their eyes.

rick: either of you say one word and i'm blowing up boob-world.

[campbenji]

*JWCT SPOILERS* very messy first thoughts

OH BOY here we go

-ben and darius's dynamic was epic. the hug. the roadtrip scenes. "is your friend okay?" "no 😊". ben getting darius out of his isolation cabin and darius grounding him in ep2. the parallels with s3ep7. "you kiss your mother with that mouth?" i'm gonna be thinking about that scene for days. their ship is still a swim to me but please they better keep whatever the fuck they have going on in s2 because it's fucking wonderful

-i love that they took the chance to give more light to duos we didn't see much in jwcc. teamups we didn't often see like ben and sammy, THE B-DUO, and darius and sammy got very special moments here

-the amount of pictures/videos from the six years in between??? the brooklynn flashbacks??? we were so well fed

-BRAND!!!!!! i got so happy when i heard him the first episode, he's clearly been checking on his brother and i'm glad he's ok

-bowman family FEAST. brand and darius talking over the phone. the pictures on the cabin. kenji saying he calls mrs. bowman once a week and all the nice things he said about her. the whole mess between kenji and darius. "we're brothers, right?" i died dead. i love this family your honor

-sammy. she's got so much going on and we desperately need to talk about it. i'm so worried about her, she's desperately trying to avoid confronting what happened with brooklynn, with yaz and her own trauma, and then they casually dropped on us that her family isn't speaking to her and never elaborated on that?? sammy, who's love and care for her family was her biggest motivation in jwcc?? i need to know what happened because it must've been big

-mateo!! i liked him a lot, he definitely doesn't want to get into any of this mess but still dabbles around a bit to help the kids, which i respect. also i hope we get to meet his daughter hiraya, she sounds really cool

-MS MICROBANGS (or the handler, or whatever name we're calling her). what is her deal. who is she working for. she's so uncanny, literally almost robotic i need to know more about her

-brookenji over i cheered. don't take this personally i've never been a fan of this ship and a part of me knew they weren't going to last long

-the animation increased in quality so much. the scene after ben, yaz and sammy get out of the sinking van is so well done it's so pretty to look at. and the t-rex with the explosion behind her? it reminds me so much of toro in the tunnels in s1ep8, and i haven't tested this out but i feel like if you put them one next to the other the improvement would be so noticeable.

-also related to the point above: that thing when a character's eyes start filling up with tears but they don't cry just yet? 10/10. chef's fucking kiss

-sure jwct has the same tv-y7 rating as jwcc, but from minute 1 it's obvious it's not the same audience they're talking to. it's not a big change in tone, like for example adventure time/distant lands/fionna and cake, but it's there, you can tell they know it's not little kids watching anymore

-BUMPY IS HAVING A BABY BUMPY IS A MOM NOW they had me shit scared for her and then they pulled a freaking egg my heart was literally pounding. anyways i hope they get both bumpy and the egg somewhere safe and that they name the new anky "speckles" (i've gotten so attached to that name in the last 24 hours it's insane)

-YASAMMY THE QUEENS THAT YOU ARE. their relationship was stellar this season, i was scared when i saw that they were apart but their issues felt organic to their relationship and i just love how they were written in the show, they are still so in love with each other and i can't wait to see where they go next season. they're everything to me

-yeah they were apart for half the season but. benji crumbs. the egg cradle scene. kenji helping ben after he got hit with the stun gun. basically all they did was act like they knew each other but idc. we are so back.

-the brooklynn reveal was... meh?? it could've been more rewarding if they waited until s2 to reveal she's still alive, but at least i hope they take their time before reuniting her with the rest of the camp fam. also i can't believe ppl even guessed what arm she was going to lose y'all have prophetic powers or smth

-bringing daniel back to kill him the same episode was an insane move btw. i would've normally complained but it's all worth it for causing the panic attack scene in ep7. kenji's reaction felt so genuine, i'm forever in awe at how well this show writes grief and trauma

-i'm so conflicted about darius's confession. i like dinostar, but i feel like it wasn't needed for darius to be in love with brooklynn to explain the voicemails and the way he was dealing with her death. she was one of his closest friends, his grief made sense even with them being platonic. on the other hand, i love how he admitted it to kenji and the fact they didn't turn it into a huge fight between them; also, "i didn't know i could even feel that way" aroace/acespec darius truthers never lose

-maybe it's just that i need to rewatch, but i'm lost as to where they're going next season?? i know they're getting on a boat but where does that go?? what are they trying to do?? there's so much happening my head is spinning

-ben... he kind of felt like the comic relief for most of the show, the first episodes showed him as being really paranoid again and struggling with being alone, but halfway through the season they just sort of forgot about it?? idk something was off

-bring back kenji's old latin spanish va idk who this guy is but that is not kenji i can't do this. i'll survive the loss of ryan potter but i won't survive this

anyways yeah i think those are most of my uncooked thoughts, overall i really liked the season, i can't believe we got to see the kids again this is still so unreal to me

[unanswered-stars]

Was gone for a few hours and the amount of memes and rants I came back to about elaingate is insane and is absolutely love it

the bridges we mend, a tamlin x beron x elain fanfiction

You can read on AO3 or below the cut.

@praetorqueenreyna, this is your fault. Now, I'm committed.

SUMMARY: An alternate universe fic that takes place after Tamlin's family is murdered by another High Lord. Beron Vanserra has always kept an eye out for Tamlin; he has always been useful and entertaining. While he helps to rebuild the Spring Court, they welcome an unwelcome refugee from the human realm: Elain Archeron.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There will be multiple chapters. There will be multiple variations of smut. It is a bit #yolo compared to my usual works. ENJOY!!

The rain hisses against his skin, wafts of smoke drifting into the air as it evaporates. Each step sears into the mud, fuels his rage, and it brings him closer to the culprit.

Idiot princeling. Stubborn beast, he thinks to himself.

His aura of anger grows until he is nothing than a storm of fire and steam.

No sentry bars his way. No magic repels him.

Beron whisps past the disfigured golden gates of the grand manor. It seems to droop under the weight of the rain—or is it under the weight of expectation? Of agony? With wave of his hand, he repairs it. His fire reshapes the metal and teaches it to burn bright, even in this darkness.

The front door is splintered; he finds problem after problem, but what he is looking for is not a problem. What is he looking for is—

A bottle clatter into the hall, its glass alerting him with its sharp sound. Behind it, a small creature pauses its efforts of rolling it away. It gives Beron a wide and slow blink before putting its hand-like paws on the bottle and going about its merry way.

"You," he orders the animal, as if he could communicate with a lesser creature. That was never his gift. "Halt."

The creature looks back over its shoulder and redoubles its efforts to escape.

It cannot—will not—get away with thievery in his presence. He has told the Spring son time and time againt that he is too soft to run this court. Even the wild things have free reign in his home.

Unacceptable.

Beron winnows towards the damned thing, cutting off its path into another room down the hall. It chirps, clutching onto the bottle and vanishes in a puff of pink smoke only to reappear further away. It gives the High Lord of the Autumn Court chase, all the way to its destination.

Blood stains the floor, and the bodies have been covered by a crimson-soaked bedsheet and half of the curtains. The new High Lord sits in the centre of the room, cradling a cold body to his chest. The tiny furry criminal hops over to Tamlin and offers him the bottle of water, but he does not take it.

Beron's heart catches in his chest. Mother, he loathes the discomfort of caring. He feels the bile of emotion roil in the pit of his belly, something more that allyship and a quick fuck. There is no time to address it. Another problem for another day.

"Fuck," Beron sighs, scrubbing his face and his auburn beard. "I told you to come to me."

He moves calmly across the room, kneeling before Tamlin and his lost ones. His touch is gentle, a rare offering, as he caresses Tamlin's cheek. This is what happens when power is thrust into the hands of someone too young and who does not want it.

I could have protected you, he yearns to say.

I have protected you, he nearly reprimands.

"I'll fix this. All of it."

***

The night keeps her secrets.

The rain hollows out her betrayal and masks the sounds of her feet pitter-pattering out the gates of her prison. A home where she is kept guarded, isolated and protected for her own good. Elain the kind. Elain the pure.

She is so unlike her sisters, they say.

So unlike Feyre, the adventurer who weaves fairytales out of nothing. So unlike Nesta, whose grace is as sharp as her mind. If one sister is brave, and the other is elegantly bold, then where does she fit? Where does she belong, the sister who is cursed to live in the middle?

Elain has been what her father needed, and what her sisters needed, never jostling any of them. Her part was to help where she could, and bottle her feelings deep inside where it was convenient. Her part was to marry into a household that would have her do nothing and be nothing for her safety.

The world is dangerous out there, they swore.

Stay within our eyesight, or you'll get hurt, they promised.

She doesn't know what to believe anymore, but one thing she knows is that she must see the world for herself. She dreams of a great odyssey, and even if there is pain along the way, she hopes that she will return—if she returns at all—with her heart full of wonder.

Elain clutches her dark cloak tightly and disappears into the forest. Broken branches and upturned rocks bite at her feet; her slippers are too thin, not made for a wanderer, but she pushes on. The ache is freeing and it reminds her that she has felt pain—

She has lost her mother, her father, her comfort, her peace—

She has lost enough, and yet she is here.

Once she gets far enough from the village that never quite felt like home, Elain pulls her hood back. The rain slips through the dark canopy of trees, dripping onto the curls of her hair and she laughs. It is a terrible idea to wander through the wilderness at night, but there is nothing more Elain wants than to do something terrible.

There is only one way to go: forward.

***

Beron leans against the side of the manor, huddled under one of the balconies to hide from the rain.

He has discarded his death-touched coat for one of Tamlin's. The shoulders droop; the younger Faerie had always been that much larger than him, much to his pleasure. The weight of his clothes, and its scent, is comforting no matter how much he loathes to admit it.

A cigarette burns between his fingers, also stolen from the Spring Lord. Its smoke fills his lungs with an easy focus; it helps him manage the anger until he can find a better way to expel the fury from his veins. He raises it to his lips, inhaling deeply, then releasing dark green wisps through his nose. It should burn, probably, but he is made of fire and there is not much that hurts him.

Lightning fractures the sky. No. Magic fractures the sky, its jagged slither diving towards where the Wall—the Wall separates the human and Faerie realms.

"Fuck," he laments, tossing the butt to the ground for it to return whence it came. He extinguishes it with a flick of his wrist.

Problem after problem. This is his own damned fault for caring.

[yikessmicah]

bloodweave

heres some bloodweave brainrot copy pasted directly from my priv twitter bc i was going insane at like 3am last night

// tw mention/brief discussion of astarion and gale's trauma, including sexual trauma. ill highlight it red so you can read the rest if youd like while avoiding the triggering part.

also obvious spoilers for part of astarion and gale's personal stories/quests.

AND DISCLAIMER this is my opinion and straight up brainrot u can ship whoever u want in bg3 idc <3

-----

sorry im having bloodweave brainrot because out of everyone in the camp i think gale Would be the objectively best match for astarion to be in a successful relationship with.

he wouldn't push him to do anything (tho i dont think any of the companions would, but ykwim) and since gale has his own form of relationship and sexual trauma (the fact mytsra groomed him since he was Literally a child and was only ever intimate with him on the astral plane therefore he's never had real physical human touch and intimacy) it would be overwhelming for him too!!

hed WANT to take it slow, he'd WANT to be as accomodating and like. he also has something on his body that represents his trauma the same way astarion does!! astarion has his scars and gale has the orb tattoo on his chest. i also think just. astarion's whole life as a spawn was only surrounded by people he Hated talking to. people who would spit insults and berate him, treat him like he was pathetic and disgusting - but gale? gale of waterdeep who never fucking shuts up?

gale of waterdeep who would gladly wake up and immediately shower him with compliments using words astarion had never even heard before? gale who would would describe astarion's features for him re: him not being able to see his reflection in such words and with such ease that eventually astarion starts to *like* the fact he doesnt have a reflection?

gale of waterdeep who would spend every waking moment of his day - that he wasnt spending talking to or being with astarion - working on a way to cure astarion of his vampirism or at Least a way for him to walk in the sun?

GALE OF WATERDEEP . who would gladly and without fucking question give up touching astarion ever again if he told him to?

gale of waterdeep who would answer every question astarion had? who would comfort his every dark thought?

gale of fucking waterdeep who would CARE for astarion so fucking well that he would genuinely start believing and KNOWING !!! he was worthy of love.

gale of FUCKING !! WATEDEEP !! who would vow to never shut up again if thats what helped astarion deal with the memories of sitting alone in a dungeon for months or YEARS at a time at the hands of cazador (not that that would be particularly hard with how me he talks already /pos).

gale who would gladly give up ever seeing the sun again and completely flipping his sleep schedule if it meant being able to walk the streets with astarion safely.

gale who would truly and wholly give nothing but his honest and real self. bare and beaten but NOT broken. show that astarion was the same. not broken. not something to be "fixed". simply something - SOMEONE - that needed to be guided a little. simply someone that needed safety.

gale of waterdeep who would do anything for his blood to taste sweet for astarion again. so he wouldnt have to fear where his next meal was going to come from. so astarion would never have to sink his teeth into a beast - let alone a sewer rat - ever again. never again would he let him have to hunt criminals in the night through the streets Alone. EVER AGAIN!!!

gale of waterdeep who would give up sleep to be by astarion's side as much as he could (since hes human and astarion is an elf). i just. he would do anything for him. Truly Anything.

gale of waterdeep who would wait weeks, months, YEARS - CENTURIES. if that's how much time it took for astarion to say i love you back. gale would say it 300 times a day and not once would it ring with the exigency of needing him to say it back.

gale....

[kafus]

forgive me in advance i only just watched NGE so my analysis of it is not that in depth and also i have very little prior exposure to its fandom or any other analysis of it so this is messy. but

i'm going to be honest i have peeked a little into the fan culture surrounding NGE and i guess i shouldn't be surprised considering the fanservice-y type stuff (especially in the rebuild movies, i adore them but that's one of the only things i was like. do we really need this many ass shots guys. not a big deal tho idc) but i was surprised anyway by the apparent longstanding history of shipping wars and also just... the way the female characters are treated by the fanbase. like i looked up misato on the tenor gif search to send a gif on discord and was frustrated by all of them being sexual/having sexual comments written on them or just her being a cutesy alcoholic type woman???

NGE has an extremely interesting portrayal of human sexuality and that is a running theme, especially in the original anime and EoE tbh, but like not in a way that makes me invested in shipping. you know me, i am a shipper at heart, i LOVE shipping. and yet i never got into shipping any of the characters. i also think shinji being implied to be with mari at the end of the movies makes a lot of sense. it's not because it'd be straight, i am fully capable of shipping straight couples, but i just find evaluating that theme of sexuality so much more interesting removed from the idea of shipping. (if anything, the only thing i even remotely shipped was misato x ritsuko, and like... i'm not that serious about it)

and simplifying the female characters and especially misato down to objects of affection instead of the incredibly interesting things they represent and who they are as whole people is so wild to me. like forgive me for being on my soapbox, misato is my favorite character i have to, but like. i love misato for being a complex and nuanced adult character with flaws. i love the ways she is mature even past her own age but also immature like a child and how those things coexist. i love how she represents hope in the most bleak of situations because she is always the one going for strategies to win and survive even if the success rate is barely above zero. i love how much of a badass she is when commanding NERV (and WILLE) and the list goes on. so why does she appear to be so often reduced down to jokes about beer and needing her to step on people or something. i assume rei and asuka receive similar treatment seeing how often they are reduced to a petty shipping war IRT shinji

idk NGE is a beautiful work of art that has so much to say and i can't imagine engaging with it in these ways. i know plenty of people are not like this and there's also so much wonderful analysis and sentiment for this series for the past few decades that i still need to sink my teeth into at some point. but damn some of these bitches in the fandom annoying i guess

[thenatashapulleyuniverse]

2, 23, and 32 for the fic writer ask game?

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

idc if the bedlam stacks isnt popular anymore, my writing peaked with Ship of Theseus and maybe even There'll Be No More After Me (which I had workshopped in a creative writing class lmao)

His mind was cruel. He dreamt of the long-gone impressions of the frigid sense of snow against his body; the rain and water catching inside his boots and drenching his hair; the sun, too, with its humid kiss creating sweat across his face. All those things rendered foreign. He dreamt of hot, careful hands against his hips, his chest, his knuckles, his face. His fingers itched for the ghost of a solid body, something tangible, something he could sink his nails into. His lips dreamt of a weight against them, and something heavier than language sitting in his throat. Even crueler, he dreamt of that peace that came with growing old.

like HELLO i dont think ill ever write something that beautiful again

23. What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

WALK WITH ME HERE. This has been stewing in my brain for weeks.

I call it my TMH Masquerade AU but basically: A very eccentric trillionaire from Tharsis (not Gale, would have to be some OC of sorts) wants to host a 3-month long Earth culture event, and so they personally host only the best of Earth performers and artists at the Tiangong. This includes the UK's Royal Ballet.

January, mid to late 20s, is practically in the prime of his career. He and his company and other performers are set to perform at a Masquerade Gala. He's wearing a polar bear mask. His cage is uncomfy but hey it's only a month of being on Tharsis and then he can go back home.

House Gale is invited to show up to the event. River (mammoth mask) never did well at these sorts of events like Aubrey, so they step outside for a moment and run into January, who had needed a break from all the people.

So basically in this AU, my goal was for a younger River and January to meet, fall in love over the course of his short duration there, and then Jan would devastatingly come back years later to Tharsis in worse conditions to find out the person who he had a short fairy tale textbook romance with is dead and had run away with somebody else.

32. A character you enjoy making suffer.

Raphael thebedlamstacks (i love immortal characters)

[is-your-blorbo-neurodivergent]

does he have ptsd and schizophrenia?

submit your own characters here to be featured!

reasons under the cut - tw for suicide mention

reason: He was given a doll with a soul inside and told it was his daughter, but then he ACTUALLY started to believe it was not just a doll he could speak to, but physically his daughter. This includes hallucinating that it WAS her, when it was only just a doll. His wife and (real) daughter died from a sinking ship, he was heavily manipulated by his own mother whom he thought was dead, and bonus points for being hunted down with shotgun by his best friend when he was 16, whom he then had to bribe into putting him into jail, where he was then assassinated (ruled as a suicide)

[albycnyu]

The “I Got Too Much Free Time” Rant

Been thinking bout my time as an active participant in the Sims community on the internet and figured I’d say it out loud; in spite of all the bullswanky I’ve witnessed and/or been apart of over the years (The Incident of ‘24 was particularly lovely, wasn’t it, Craig?) my overall experience has been amazing. I wish I could sprinkle some of that sugary goodness on to other people (especially those who just dipped their toes into the community) so theirs can be the same because (and this’ll probably come off as corny but idc) whether they play and/or create on PC, console, mobile, etc. simmers deserve to have a pleasant experience. Having been here for some time and see people come and go, come and go… and go… and go… and go some more these recent years (imma say at least within the span of 2-3yrs) with the common denominator for these departures being the community’s toxicity, it’s an unfortunate thing to bear witness to.

Idk when it happened (maybe during COVID) but somewhere down the line, people got competitive, messy, envious, entitled, and (as seen time and again) absolutely fcking greedy; at least say, “Hello, my name is—” and TAKE TIME TO ACTUALLY GET TO KNOW PEOPLE before tryna sell us shit (this ain’t SecondLife bish…). Mix all that with the ever-changing trashy algorithms on various platforms, and ppl who think the sun rise n sets n revolves around them, their likes, and opinions and boom! tryna thrive on a sinking low vibrational ship’s causing more harm than good, and yeah, I get wanting to bounce. Beam me up to another ship. Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m DONE. However, I feel people should leave on their own terms and because they want to, not because they feel they *have* to.

That isn’t to say you shouldn’t take a break(s) if you’ve got too much on your plate, you’re feeling uninspired, mofos getting you outta character, etc., and this isn’t me saying you oughta be leaving the sims community altogether. It’s me saying after an abysmal experience or two, take a breather and continue where you left off. Think of it like your experience with EA (if you use mods): everything’s great til patch day. Now you gotta deal with corrupted files, broken cc, that weird ass error don’t nobody but you be experiencing and forums can’t help (only to find out it was indeed a tiny mod/cc causing the error all along). And you gotta deal with it again. And again. And again. Like clockwork because EA’s bitchass CAN’T GET SHIT RIGHT THE FIRST FCKN TIME!!!!

*breathes*

Does that stop you from playing The Sims (4)?

Hell yeah.

For sure.

Maybe.

But not forever.

You take a breather and figure out what works for you, even if that means you gotta d-… del-…deellllfffifisksksfjkdjsdjdfjksjkfeleting errything…………… (fffffffffffffffffffkskskskakaskjdsjksdfjkfesjk) but so be it. Issa bit of a flawed logic (I know) but treat your negative experiences like EA's Patch Day: cuss it out, delete,embracethepowerofspite, rebuild with whatever (and whomever) remains and look forward to what’s to come all while having a great laugh about it along the way.

That way, when you’re done— and trust me, you’ll know— you’ll be like me: able to leave with great memories.