#social workers assigned to them maybe

[secondbeatsongs]

for anyone too young to know this: watching The Truman Show is a vastly different experience now, compared to how it was before youtube and social media influencers became normal

before it was like, "what a horrifying thing to do to a human being! to take away their autonomy and privacy, all for the sake of profits! to create fake scenarios for them to react to, just to retain viewership! to ruin their happiness just so some corporate entity could harvest money from their very humanity! how could anyone do something so evil?"

and now it's like, "ah, yeah. this is still deeply fucked up, but it's pretty much what every influencer has been doing to their kids for a decade now. probably bad that we've normalized this experience"

[sanguineterrain]

Ahhhh yes I'm so excited that you're writing spencer! Could I request something with a reader who's also considered "weird" by people (aka neurodivergent) and it gets them down but spencer doesn't think they're weird obviously and maybe they bond over that? I hope this makes sense 🩷 love ur fics!!

hope this is okay :) spencer reid x gn!reader. rude cop alert, reader feels down about not picking up on invisible social expectations/cues, Spencer comforts them. ty for requesting!

****

New crime scenes make you lock in and hone your attention. You've always done that. Ever since you started at the BAU, that's meant that you break some invisible rule more often than not.

You approach the cop who called in the case from behind. "When did you find the—

He flinches, dropping his clipboard. Immediately, he rounds on you, annoyance palpable.

"Jesus, knock much?" he asks, brow low with frustration. "Sneaking up on people in this line of work is a bad habit."

"I'm sorry," you say, not quite sure what you're apologizing for. "When did you—"

"And who are you, exactly?" he interrupts, looking you over. "Selling cookies?" He laughs at his joke.

You push through, showing your badge and saying your name. The cop snorts.

"FBI, huh? Wouldn't have guessed. You don't act like it. You know you're supposed to sign in, right?"

"Yes, I know. I've been here for ten minutes," you say. You can't pinpoint exactly what you sense, but you recognize the tone someone gets when they're making fun of you.

"Ten minutes?" The cop looks past you. "I didn't see you."

"I signed in at 8:14."

You've learned that being precise is very important because it makes people more likely to believe you. Sometimes your precision puts people off, but you have to show them that you pay attention, lest they have any doubts.

"Uh-huh. Look, is your supervisor here? Someone in charge? I need to give this report to someone."

"You can give it to me. I was assigned to this case," you say.

He snorts. "Right. First time sniffing around a murder case, rookie?"

You blink, confused. "No. This is my thirty-third case."

He's about to respond when Derek interrupts. He flashes his badge, says his name, and the cop clearly respects him, straightening up.

"What have we got here?" Derek asks, and the cop launches into the explanation you've been wanting since you started the conversation.

You get that prickling sensation on your neck, that feeling of humiliation when you've missed some cue. Your first thought is that maybe the cop doesn't respect younger agents, but it's more than that. It's always more.

It's always something you've done.

You slink away, and Derek doesn't even glance at you, which is fine. He's busy. You won't take it personally.

You drift over to Hotch and Spencer instead. Hotch is talking to a witness who heard the gunshots. Spencer is supplementing his questions with information about how bullets splinter different types of wood. He looks at you as you approach and that instantly makes you feel better. Spencer never ignores you.

"Thank you very much," Hotch finally says, touching the witness on her arm briefly. "We'll call you if we have more questions. Someone will drive you home. If you'll follow me out."

She follows Hotch and then it's you and Spencer.

"What do you think?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Too early to tell. The witness said she heard sounds after the shots that she didn't recognize. What did the officer say?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Derek's taking his statement."

"I thought you were," Spencer says in confusion.

"I tried to, but he wouldn't talk to me. He said I don't act like an FBI agent. Called me a rookie."

It's part of the job, these kinds of interactions. Not every government worker is the nicest.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me," you say before Spencer can say anything. It's too honest for a crime scene. Anyone else would be annoyed by your whining.

Spencer shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong with you."

"I feel like there is," you say quietly.

Spencer's the only one who understands. He's been called every name under the sun. He's so smart, and you're always in awe at how smart he is, but, according to Hotch, some people get intimidated rather than awed and say mean things as a result.

You're not a genius like Spencer, though. You're just an agent. You're fine at your job, but sometimes you don't even get the chance to demonstrate that. You have no idea what makes you fumble simple interactions like taking a statement.

"So he made it seem like you're inexperienced," Spencer says.

You nod. "I don't know why. I went to him, about to ask a question, but I guess I startled him. He snapped at me to not sneak up on people. Then I apologized. People like when you apologize, right?"

Spencer shrugs thoughtfully. "Sometimes. Apparently, it's a very fine line between when you should and when you shouldn't. Did you introduce yourself?"

You frown. "Later, I did."

He hums. "Apparently, people don't respect our authority unless we're flashing it obnoxiously. That's what Penelope told me. Take a page out of Derek's book."

You both look at Derek, who's got his hands on his hips, posturing like he's in a procedural drama. Spencer shares in your laughter. It's like drinking the sweetest, richest cup of hot chocolate when Spencer looks at you like that.

"Do you do that?" you ask, smiling.

"Ah, apparently, I haven't quite nailed it. I'm the least approachable agent on the team, according to a DEA agent."

Your face falls. "I think you're approachable."

Spencer lifts his hands as if to say, what can you do? Maybe you should be the same. It's just so hard.

"I can't do anything right," you blurt, sobering up. "There's so many rules, Spencer. I just want to solve cases. Isn't that why we're here? That's why I went to the cop in the first place."

You feel babyish for complaining. You know what someone else would say: suck it up. But this job sometimes feels like you're on the field playing baseball, and everybody else is playing chess. No one else seems to struggle with the invisible rules of being an agent. No one except...

"Yeah, but to that officer, it's also an assertion of power," Spencer says. "He's the kind of person who only responds to perceived authority. He didn't perceive authority from you, even though you have it, because you wouldn't be here if you didn't. So, he thinks you should've cowed to him and flattered him with inane niceties to get the information that you deserve to know to begin with."

You blink. "Really? All that?"

Spencer nods. "I've known lots of people like him. Classic law enforcement personality. For the record, I think it's stupid. You're smart, and you're good at your job. You shouldn't have to make yourself smaller to get people to do what's expected of them."

"I wish I could do something quiet," you say morosely. "Do autopsies or something. Stay out of the way."

Being quiet is easier. You work in a place where some talking is necessary, but it's also not strange to think quietly for periods of time. And people can't get mad at you when you're quiet.

But then, you really love the BAU. You'd hate to be transferred. You'd hate to be away from Spencer Reid.

"I don't want you to be quiet. You're good at what you do here," he says. "Don't let an insecure person make you doubt yourself. Also, you're not inexperienced: you've solved thirty-three cases."

You grin. There's nothing quite like being seen.

"Tell me more about bullets and different wood types," you say.

Spencer's face lights up, and you suddenly feel more sure that this is exactly where you're meant to be.

[acupofinkedblood]

Biografts and Blackrock worker reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Working in Blackrock isn’t the best type of work for those who wishes to socialize and encounter more interactions with other fellow demons. And certainly when you are stuck in the robot manufacturing and inspection area — especially when it’s your job to keep an eye out for the Biografts before sending them away to be tasked with their assigned duties — and that just makes you even more lonely when the entire facility is almost all yours. Sure, there are still other managers like you in different parts of the department, but they have their own issues to get over with. That alone has summed up your current situation, no?

• At your first day at work, you can help but feel so out of place. The only time you can have a proper conversation with a living being is when your boss is telling you how to do this or how to deliver that, basically just tutoring you for the basics. You are presented with a newly created Biograft that is supposed to require your primary source of attention. It’s simple, your job, I mean. You are the inspector, it’s your job to make sure all the Biografts are properly functioning. And to do that, you just need to run a few tests in order to note down their responses as well as see if any of them needs a quick fix or a reboot

• Once you grasp all the things that you should know, your boss just hasta la bye bye you almost immediately without a trace. The way you are being left alone in the middle of a new environment by your boss like how one leave a kid in the daycare without looking back is absurdly hilarious to some extent, but once you get back to reality, it’s just you for now

• Only the sound of the mechanical automatic production line and the sound of your own breathing is available in the moment. And of course, the Biograft in front of your eyes. The people who are supposed to deliver it are outside. And honestly, they won't even bother to chat with you. That's how quiet people are in this specific department, expect for the big boss that is obnoxiously loud that you wish you don’t have to cross path with him twice because goddamn- that man literally speaks like a glitchy speaker that doesn’t know how to shut up

• Anyway, back to the Biograft. You always know the drill: It’s just a cold machine that is awaiting for your orders. You did what you were told: Run the tests, check up their parts, call the transporters as the Biograft has passed the trial and then another Biograft is sent to you. Again and again, batches over batches, your day just passes like that before your shift is up

• Soon enough, you don’t bother to look up at the transporters and wave them a goodbye like you did before since you know too well that they just walk away without a single thought. Hell, they are even more automatic than any other machines you have come into contact with, and the fact that they are still alive living demon is just- damn. You just stick your eyes into the files and the Biografts. You honestly feel like this repetitive task you are supposed to do everyday will probably lead you down to the path of self-isolation

• That is until you have enough of talking to yourself internally like a schizophrenic patient at work. You desperately yearn for some sort of interaction with a proper acknowledgement, not just a nod and go on anymore. Maybe you’re just too bored at this point, because then you start to think that maybe you might as well just go ahead and talk to the Biografts that are under your inspection. I mean, they do know how to respond to your words and all, technically that is enough for you to cling onto your last hope of interacting with someone or something that isn’t just your imagination

• You know that the Biografts can speak through a secondary function that lets it mimic the speech patterns of demons, and it can even copy your way of speaking or even other’s voice. That is a part of your trial to test their functioning abilities, aside from their obedience and their accuracy when performing a certain mission. That means they aren’t just a bunch of metal that will stay quiet all the time. Although you are probably the first person they ever interact with in a proper way, you have your hope up for their default setting. And that’s how you throw away all the other doubts and just strike a conversation with some of the Biografts

• It’s not like you have any reputation left to lose. This whole facility is all yours and others are too busy minding their own business rather than paying attention to your odd behavior. And hey, talking with killing machines casually isn’t that bad like some people think!

• You have spoken to a lots of them in the previous trials before, certainly when some comes back for inspection, they remember you. That just fuels your will power even more at the goal of befriending the Biografts. Thankfully that their data allows them to learn and to speak with certain calculations, it does resemble a normal conversation somewhat. Although it’s pretty simple, the way they talk since most of the time they just state their presence or answer your questions dutifully. But well, you can live with that

• It is a good thing that it’s the Biografts’ nature to be curious about its surroundings, which includes you and some of your actions as well. They watch over everything you do like a hawk, careful pay attention to you as a source of new knowledge to be aware of. They don’t have an actual personality, you know it well. The artificial intelligence inside their chip allows them to get access to a certain fields of knowledge from continuously learning new information each days. The Biografts can even form a beehive type of mindset, when a Biograft can exchange the thing it has learned to another Biograft through collective messages. It’s their nature to continue to learn and to adapt, mostly for combat-related situations

• Nonetheless, they have proven to have little a sense of self which is portrayed through the way they view the world around them. Curiosity is such a miracle in which it can achieve the impossible, and the same principle can be applied to these Biografts. They do notice at you too, and wonder the thing that is related to you. You are their inspector after all. Moreover, you are probably one of the only few person who they spend a time with after being born into this world

• While running through some tests for them, you will be faced with certain questions regarding of what are you doing. What is the reason for you to want them to do this or do that? What do you mean by your choice of words? How do you do this specific thing that seems new in their minds? Questioning is a form of self-taught, that’s why they can’t help but to question you. Your gear is also on the topic, whether it’s for combat or not. Sometimes they might even ask why are you so insistent on having someone to talk to. You just shake your head with a slight grin at how embarrassing your reason sounds like

• Of course, you can speak to them freely and will be given an answer for everything you have mentioned. You can just talk about your days to them, tell them about your personal opinion of some certain topic or just mess around with them jokingly. Although asking them tricky questions are highly not recommended unless you want to see their data going overloaded because of what you said. You don’t want to accidentally make them shut down just because you have asked them what is the color of an electric sheep, right? It won’t be a pretty sight to the eyes

• One thing that you shouldn’t do too obvious is to try and get them to understand the concept of freedom or life or basically anything that will jam with their whole purpose of existence to serve in war and conflict. You are the inspector, yes, you do have quite the impact on them. Though if you still want to do that, just do as you wish, but keep it subtle. There are still cameras that can record your voice in its database. Surely Subspace won’t like it when you try to get his creations to oppose him, he isn’t going to let it happen. You might even get the warning from the Biografts themselves to be aware of your words. So just a head up, it’s a risky thing to do

• You adore all of them. Growing fond of a bunch of Biografts really mess up your mind. You don’t just give them nickname, oh no no, that’s too common and you don’t have that much nicknames for over a thousand Biografts out in the wild. You literally call them by their series number in details without biting your tongue. SFOTH above, you have mesmerized all of their series numbers by heart. Every single one of them, there is no way for you to ever forget which one is the one you are looking at in the moment despite them being all identical

• The way you’re so focused on the Biograft as if they are an actual living demon is almost absurd. Yet that’s still what you do, no? To think that you even recognize each of them enough to the point that you have pick out some of them to be your favorites, that’s definitely some unique talent you have there

• It’s ridiculous when you see them as some sort of individual with different purposes. Some you see as friends — who you can chat the days away before they have to leave after you have done inspecting them — that title is usually used for the Biografts that you have known before and had the chance to see them again, either while they are being maintained or sent back to you for certain reasons. Some you see as your children, which are usually referred to those who you have only met the very first time before while doing your job. Of course, you don’t baby them because that’s just weird, though you do look out for them more than usual

• The Biografts aren’t exactly dull on its own. They have grown familiar with your presence aside from their creator. You hold an important position in each other their mindset, someone that isn’t just a typical demon. Although they will always see Subspace as the top priority since he is their cereator, his orders will be the upmost command that none dares to oppose. Still, they do view you as someone who is somewhat as equally significant as their creator. You’re just a tad behind Subspace, trust me. They are — for the lack of better words used specifically for robots — congenial, around your presence. Easy to talk to than others, at least

• You definitely get questionable looks from other managers when you waving the Biograft a ‘bye bye’ like a parent sending their child away after they have grown up. People might start a rumor on how you seem to lose your sanity quicker than anyone else in the division, but you don’t give a damn anymore. You know that you care for them a bit too much, then again, what else are you supposed to do?

• You know that they are just heartless machines, yet you can’t help yourself but grow attached to all of them. They provide you better company than any other demon in the division can ever imagine. You have found comfort in seeing them, talking to them everyday at work like they are alive in flesh. From friends, children and family — the Biografts manage to fill all the important roles you need in your life: You talk to them like how friends do, you care for them like how a parent would to a child, and you form a deep connection with them like they are actually your family. Is that odd? Definitely. Do you need a therapist? Maybe. Will that stop you from enjoying their presences? Hell no

• Sometimes you just wish that you can keep at least one of them beside you for company on the daily basis. Of course, there is no way Subspace will grant you that privilege. You can only dream about it whenever you take a break from your shift. Seeing them surely makes you feel better. For the time being, you just need to look forward to seeing the Biografts again when a new day comes

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: There’s not much I can write about the Biografts, so sorry for the limited quality(๑•́ -•̀)

Note 2: A friend from afar of mine is calling me to listen to his gossip with his friend to make me feel better, it works because the tea is HOT

[savi-our]

Anti-Harem with OP Mage MC pt. 3 ft. Horrortale

Its 3 am- This... this is over 3k words.... I'm both cooking and cooked apparently bc this is even longer and more detailed than the last part, I honestly dont know what came over me. The ending is a bit rushed and im posting this half asleep and barely able to make sense of whether or not any of this is actually good but i wanted to post it before going off to sleep - i do hope you enjoy it though, even if by this point im not sure you can call it an anti harem... maybe ill explore that bit more in the next part.... (p.s. i would love love looove to hear you guy's thoughts on what ive cooked up here so please leave a comment if youre inclined to <3)

Part 1 Part 2

It had been a few weeks since the attack on the monster settlement and your work kept you busy. Black and Mutt had both been a welcome new change as far as your experience in monsters went, the three of you seemed to grow closer by the day - sharing the mutual burdens of your job whenever you had any amount of free time. You and Black formed a good professional relationship, often sharing insights on the progress of monster integration into the world outside, and Mutt - albeit avoidant, seemed to develop an interest in watching you whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. He even sometimes visited you whenever his brother had been busy, coming to your office to slump on your couch and waste away his free time, scrolling through his phone and trying not to get caught staring at you while you filed away paperwork.

It was on a particularly early morning that you had arrived at your office, still dazed from your lack of sleep when a new case appeared at your desk. You rarely did personal requests, but this one you could hardly refuse as it had come from one of the joint rulers of the Underground. 

Queen Toriel summoned you, and you listened as she told you her concerns about a particular percentage of her population having an especially difficult time with the integration process. You picked up on the finer details of her request - unspoken words to her plea.

You were aware of the spatial anomaly that had caused the particular brand of chaos that was currently plaguing Monsterkind, a rift that had caused a collision of alternates and pulled them all here. It was a guarded secret among the higher ranking officials, the details shared only to those who were known to be trusted - or to those who were smart enough to see beyond the fragile lie. You were both you supposed, the Archmage themselves requested your insight into the matter, and you offered to consult wherever you could. It didn't surprise you that the Queen turned to you for assistance - involved as you were in the matter.

You agreed to her request, you could hardly refuse considering the high brand on the paperwork, the signature of the Archmage looped in finer print at the corner of the page. You left promptly, assigning a trusted associate of yours to man the office while you were gone, unfortunately the urgency of your task bid no time to waste so you left without notifying the two skeletons that had seemed to be stuck in your orbit as of late, but that was the nature of things when you had such a demanding position.

You were relocated into the depths of the Underground, a rather lavish apartment greeting you in the shadow of the castle of the royal families, but you had little time to waste, the faster you got to work the smoother the integration process would be.

You met with those currently overseeing the progress of the whole thing, a joint department consisting of monsters, humans and mages - social workers, professors, doctors, therapists and volunteers - all with ample experience concerning the more particular quirks that came with joining cultures and assessing risks where there were any. Your status would do you more harm than good here - you realize early on, advised by the royal court to take a more personal approach as you shed down your heavy coats and branded insignias - monsters in the underground were still rather wary of mages, especially ones as infamous as you. You took on the faux position of a well renowned inspector, and set yourself to figuring out what the problem was and how best to solve it.

It was there that you met them, two new yet rather familiar faces that were introduced to you as the spokespersons for the rebuffed population, Twilight and Dusk by name. 

Twilight was large, even by monster standards, a lean silhouette that towered over any others in the room with a set of jagged teeth and a weathered look to his eyes. His appearance however, seemed to be rather misleading. He was friendly, overly so, extending his hand to you in his introduction as he shook yours with a controlled precision, his crooked grin lifted, delighted to meet a new face among the many who were already so familiar over his long stay in the program. He was chatty, friendly even, a social butterfly that delighted in telling you about the many state of affairs that flitted about the establishment. There were some quirks however… every now and again he confused words, voiced idioms that you could hardly make sense of - something about frisbees. He had ticks, nervous habits and moments of sudden cautious anxiety that brought concerns to your mind, there were times where he seemed almost manic, a rattling in his bones as he flitted about the room as if trying to burn off excess magic, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Then there was Dusk. Like his brother he was considerably larger than the average monster. He was bulkier, bigger, an imposing presence in the room that set even your nerves on edge. He seemed dangerous, more than any of the other monsters you've come across, something in your mind whispered caution as you introduced yourself. The best word you could use to describe Dusk was heavy, both literally and metaphorically. He dragged his words as if he practically pulled them from the depths of his mind, his movements were slow, weighed almost by some unforeseen force you could not comprehend, and every now and again he lost focus, a single red eyelight dilated and staring promptly into nothing. His mind was both sharp and slow at the same time, he often shared insights that were surprising in their outside perspective, he commented on things that others had passed by in their expertise - drawing attention to underlying issues that had been overlooked due to the fact that nobody had really thought of them as issues before he made comment. He had a finer eye for detail, but at the same time there were moments where he'd lose his train of thought, a byproduct of his severe head wound no doubt, words forgotten on the tip of his tongue - moments like those seemed frustrate him quite badly, his fingers pulled on his one blank eye socket in quiet irritation. On his better days he'd make offhanded puns that were rather dark in theme - cannibalism seemed to be a favorite of his. On his bad days his voice turned cold, words sharp as his grin pulled on his face almost maniacally, he was tense, guarded like a cornered dog ready to bare teeth.

It had taken you some time to get situated in your new environment, you spent your days meeting with the other monsters who shared similar ailments to both Twilight and Dusk, consulting with the people directly responsible for their integration process and finding correlations between things that worked best and those that didn't work at all. A common pattern in all of those monsters became clear days after your assignment, the heightened cases of sudden anxiety and panic attacks. It was odd to you for some reason, it wouldn't be unnatural for this particular batch of alternates to suffer from such things, considering what you knew they had gone through back in their own reality, but something about it seemed odd.

You investigated your suspicions further, repeatedly meeting monsters and doctors alike, questioning them about the intricacies of their ailments, trying to garner light on the plausible cause for the widespread issue. Twilight seemed eager to help you, he often accompanied you in your search for more information, more knowledge, and his assistance proved quite useful - when you questioned him as to why he seemed so willing to assist you, he responded with an abashed admission - a want to help the monsters who were struggling most finally see the light of day, to taste the fresh air of the outside world, they had been stuck underground for too long. He often stayed with you after hours, organizing papers and research as you delved into the mystery with a hyper focused obsessiveness. You found you always became like this, obsessive over things you could not define or explain, it was that part of you that had helped you rise in power as fast as you had, starved for answers, eager to explore and redefine the things unknown to you- it was almost nostalgic in a way.

 Twilight had a talent for filling blanks in your knowledge, unfamiliar territory as this was he often offered you more insight in the particularities of monster illnesses and behavioral patterns that you were not privy to. You often asked him for clarifications and added depth to your research and he provided them eagerly - either through his own knowledge or systematically organized interviews and research papers that were color coordinated and alphabetized neatly on your desk. He had a knack for organization that one, but you couldn't help but notice how his expression soured whenever he had to bend to lift a particularly heavy box of files off the floor - he tried to hide it, face turned away and the occasional popping of bones concealed by the clear of his throat, but you noticed. You tentatively questioned him about it one late evening, not wishing to pry more than he was comfortable with. He seemed embarrassed by your attentiveness but didn't deny it, hands clasped and pulling on his long fingers in a nervous habit. He revealed to you that the current brand of healing magic and medicine could do very little for his deteriorated state, the effect was not potent enough or so it seemed. The fact didn't sit right with you, and you decided in your mind that you could multitask.

Your research prolonged, and your frustrations grew as the answer to your questions evaded you. You began to spend more time in your office than in your pristine afforded apartment, head buried in books and rushed consultations between experts in the department. Your obsessiveness seemed to grow, and with it your attention to your health lessened, overtaken by a constant hunger for answers. That hunger seemed to replace your baser instincts however, and one particularly busy day the consequences of your declining attention to your physical state seemed to catch up with you.

 You had been on your way to another scheduled meeting with an on site surgeon, carrying a closed file with a hurried pace, you were far too absorbed in your head to notice the shake of your own fingers, or the way the corners of your vision blurred. You were so absorbed in fact, that you didn't even notice the sudden approach of Dusk from the hall across from you. You had ran right into him, nose buried in the plush of his sweater as you had your senses knocked right out of you. The contact didn't even phase him, and he had caught you by the forearm to steady you. You had apologized, noting how it was unlike you to be so distracted in your surroundings. He hadn’t seemed to mind, his large eyelight coming to a soft focus on the point of contact with your arm. 

The force of your run in with him had knocked the file you were carrying onto the ground however, and as you leaned down in your hurry to grab it the world around you spun. You lost your bearings, and your vision turned to black as you fainted, vaguely aware of the pull of someone's arms around you.

You had woken up in one of the medical rooms, an IV in your arm and a growing headache in the corner of your mind. Dusk was there too, hunched in an office chair that was far too small for his hulking frame, you would have laughed - if you hadn't felt like shit at the time that is. Your movement seemed to wake him from his zoning out, and he had leveled you with a look that you couldn't readily discern - something of a mix between worry, scrutiny and confusion. The doctor on hand had walked in to check up on you, cautioning you to pay better attention to your health, you had felt like a child, embarrassed with your own state. Dusk had sat silent next to your bed while you were being discharged, and as you stood to leave with an order to go home and get some rest from the doctor, he stood with you.

The skeleton escorted you home, a silent but unmistakable presence at your side and as you were ready to thank him and say your goodbyes at your door, he had asked you when you had last gotten something to eat - you couldn't give him a straight answer. 

He had pushed his way inside your temporary home then, and you questioned him in your confusion as he opened your fridge to find it mostly empty, he clicked his tongue, a low growling hum from the pit of his ribs as he pushed you down on your couch with a stern order to ‘wait here’

He blinked out of existence then, returning after a while with a greasy bag of food and he urged you to eat, pushing the bag in your lap despite your urge of protests. You complied, silently eating under the watchful eye of his softly dilated gaze.

From then on Dusk began to visit your office on a regular basis, bringing both you and Twilight regular meals and spending his time lounging in one of the bigger chairs available at the time, idly flipping through books. His presence seemed to anchor you, and often he knocked you out of your hyper focused state with a random pun or an offhand comment about the weather. It worked, your urgency had stilled to a healthy normal, mind clearer as both brothers had now taken to paying a keen interest in your physical condition. You still remembered the frantic lecture Twilight had given you after your little trip to the emergency room. He had begun to limit your time in the office after that, setting a healthy time table with a balanced schedule for both rest and work.

The growing connection between the three of you was plain as day, and as days passed you began to find the answers you were so desperately looking for. It was a regular day in the office when you finally solved the mystery - a calm afternoon spent in a comfortable conversation with the brothers over a cup of tea and some snacks Twilight had graciously shared. You had been brainstorming with the brothers, shooting off your theories for plausible causes when Dusk piped in with something that caught your attention. 

You almost dropped the cup of tea you had been idly cradling in your hand. Jumping up to your feet in a newly discovered frenzy, you rifled through a box of files that had been offhandedly pushed to the side, and as you flipped through a particular heavy file about dietary needs it was then that it hit you, something so simple and so overlooked - of course Dusk would have been the one to point it out. Your grin was almost manic in its excitement as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, and you turned to the brothers that had gathered behind you in their confusion. You pulled each of them down by their faces, placing a loud smack of your lips on both of their foreheads and watched their faces glow warm as you called them both a genius. You rushed out of the office, missing exchanged looks of embarrassment - eager to share and confirm your discovery.

It was simple really, so easy to miss in all the confusion of the spatial rift and the ongoing process of integration. It was the food that was making the monsters so sick and riddled with anxiety. Coming from a reality here there had been a significant shortage of food - the first response of the healthier populace had been to feed them, feed them as much as they wanted to eat, it was natural really. Except monster food - magical in nature had high levels of energy, too high for a population of monsters that had been previously so deprived of sustenance. It made their magic run rampant, fluctuate in its intensity with high highs and even lower lows. It was the same in humans, eating too much after starving made the patient sick and would effectively do more harm than good. The answer was right there all along, and you cursed yourself at not seeing it sooner.

Things moved quickly after that, you wasted no time to form a plan of order for a change in provisions, something less straining, human food imbued with magical properties was the natural choice. It would take time for the monster's conditions to stabilize, but after a few days on the new program you began seeing positive results. You had reported your success to the royal family and Toriel had once again summoned you for a showing of your solution. If things went as predicted, the rebuffed population would soon show results of steady improvement, they would finally be prime and ready for the further relocation process.

The queen had thanked you for your service and had shown you a rather unexpected act of kindness in doing so, inviting you over to her rooms for a private tea party where you both conversed not like high mage and ruler, but as two troubled souls with the weight of the world on each of your shoulders. It was pleasant, if not a bit awkward on your part, but Toriel seemed to have a knack for making someone feel welcome.

It was a couple of days before your departure that you had invited the skeleton brothers to your apartment for a celebration dinner, you had surprised them with a meal of your own making. Expertly following the guide of their new diet you had imbued it with your own magic, the fact seemed to fluster the brothers for some reason, but they were unwilling to comment as to the reason why. 

The evening trailed off in shared conversation, and as the hour grew late, the mood slightly sombered, it seemed like both Twilight and Dusk had something they had been meaning to confess for a while now, but it had never seemed like the right time. You had a feeling you knew what it was about - they weren't aware of just how much you knew about their past -you had been pretending to be a high ranking inspector after all, a secret as big as alternate realities wouldn't be handed off to someone as low down the hierarchy as that.

It was then that they opened up to you, a cautious whispered admission of their past sins, sins bred out of desperation and grief. In a moment of your own vulnerability you told them you knew, you knew and understood. You reassured them that it didn't change your opinion of them, you shared gentle words of encouragement, soft admissions of your own grief filled memories. 

You would not judge them for their past, because you saw in them a desperate wish for a better life, a fragile hope that they could learn to become monsters capable of loving themselves. 

Perhaps it was wrong, out of all the people in the world it was you who were the greatest threat to their continued existence. You realized you held their fragile future in your scarred hands, and decided to trust in the goodness in their souls.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

While I absolutely adore all the "Viktor acquires Jayce's last name for accidental/practical/non-romantic reasons" ideas, I think Viktor would have had to solve his last name problem for paperwork reasons as a student at the Academy, and if he didn't have a last name, the simplest option would be to steal one.

He figures out within three days of starting at the Academy that he needs a family name.

Introducing himself as "just Viktor" gets him marked out as from the undercity immediately, if missing one of a hundred other social cues hasn't already. "Don't you know no one knows whose kids are whose down there?" he hears someone scoff from down the hall, after he's extracted himself from a conversation that was going nowhere good.

Family, like most things in the undercity, is assembled from spare parts more often than not. Family is who will have your back if someone is giving you shit; who will offer you half of something that is already not enough. His parents by blood are both alive and still live together, but no one knows them as anything other than Iveta and Hal.

But topsiders care about things like bloodlines and inheritance, and they all have family names. Not just the rich kids whose family names are carved into buildings, but the children of merchants and craftspeople and workers.

So, he needs to acquire one.

He can't just make one up. What if he picks something that sounds obviously fake to their ears? Or worse, the name of a real, well-known family that he then has to explain his connection to? No, it has to be a real name, just not one that anyone would care about.

He goes to the cemetery. Not the fancy one with the high wrought-iron gates and elaborate masoleums, but a humble one, in a part of the city filled with the modest homes of tradespeople. He searches until he finds an ill-tended family plot, the most recent date of death a hundred years in the past. A simple man, maybe a baker, judging by the carving on the headstone. That will do.

He makes up a story to go with it (a Piltover family of small shopkeepers, forced into the undercity by hard times several generations ago, but topsiders by ancestry still) and starts writing his name as Viktor Trini on homework assignments and forms.

"Viktor." Professor Heimerdinger catches his attention after class one day, a few weeks into the term. Viktor has a routine for this steep amphitheater-style lecture hall by now. Sit in the front so he doesn't have to deal with the stairs; make a bit of a show of gathering up his books and papers slowly after class, letting the students who are in a hurry get out the door first, without his uneven steps slowing them down.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Excellent work on the last assignment. Inspired problem-solving, if I must say."

"Thank you, Professor." He'd been gratified by the solution he came up with, but it's nice to hear someone else say it, too.

Heimerdinger is still holding his problem set paper, rocking on his toes on the small stepladder he uses when lecturing, when he doesn't get too animated and just start striding across the desk like a stage. "You know," he says. "I knew an Aloisius Trini, many years ago. Lovely fellow. He could get a bit gruff with the customers, when the shop was busy, but he made the best meat pies, so nobody cared. I was wondering, might he be your...grandfather perhaps?"

"Yes," Viktor says quickly. "Though I never knew him."

Heimerdinger lowers his voice conspiratorially. "I think you will find that great-grandfather works better, given the math." And he winks.

Viktor's throat goes dry. "Professor, I--"

"Ah-ah. No need to worry, my dear boy. Most people you meet in Piltover won't be nearly three hundred years old." He leans in, drops his voice to a whisper again. "We'll keep this our little secret."

Ah. He understands what's going on now. "Of course. What do you want in return?" He doesn't like this, owing someone who could have him expelled with the stroke of a pen.

Heimerdinger looks surprised at the question. "Nothing!" he says. But that can't be true. He'll ask for something sooner or later.

"I want you to succeed," Heimerdinger says after a moment. "I've seen a lot of students come through these halls, and you're very bright. I predict you'll do extraordinary things."

It still feels like a trap, and maybe it shows on his face, because after a minute Heimerdinger makes a noise of frustration and says, "Fine. If you insist on viewing this as a favor to be repaid, come to my office. There's a lightbulb that needs changing and I can't reach it."

That, he can do. "Thank you, Professor," he says quietly as Heimerdinger hops down the stairs of the stepladder.

"Don't thank me until you've seen the state of this light fixture. I can't reach it to dust, either."

[mysticmellowlove]

wowowow the ceo drabble was so good! i kinda love asshole pathetic men ok. and if you’re up to it, do you think you could write a continuation? or like anything really, love your writing <3

note; continuation of August coming up~ also please don't let your higher-ups take advantage of you! just a helpful reminder :)

warnings; dom reader, gn reader, male sub, switchy reader, asshole reader, bad practice, talk of non-con (past), a very consensual present, ruined orgasm, they're both mean your honour

based off; this

Despite totally wrecking him the other day August was still an asshole, and they were still working a nine-to-five at a company they barely cared about. The incessant tap of fingers on keyboards was driving them just about insane. Linda was sitting next to them chatting about some new company policy. Mark was over by the water cooler trying to flirt up the new intern. It was so inane that they could feel their eyes roll.

That was when they hatched the plan, to try and weasel their way into the big CEO's life. Why work in an office when you can suck dick a few times and get money for it? August was a horrible man with too much money under his belt, someone who had accosted them a few times before. So why couldn't they be horrible as well? It wouldn't be hard to blackmail someone like him, all they had to do was get him in such a pleasure-drunk state that he said some dubious secrets or something.

A message popped up on their computer screen through the work portal, of course it was him... who else would bother bugging them this close to closing time? With a huff they got off their chair and gathered up the file of papers they had been assigned to check over. While they walked over to his office, with its own private floor of course (and frosted windows), ideas began to bubble up in their head. They couldn't do it tonight, they had no tape recorder on them and their phone was in office jail currently (staring at social media during work hours was apparently not acceptable).

But he was such a prick that the thought was tempting.

"Wonderful, I've been waiting on these for over half an hour." August's office door swung open as he stood there, his hand clasped around a phone that was pressed to his ear. He regarded them briefly before ushering them inside, the strict tone he used against them melting away into something much more charismatic as he continued to talk to what they assumed was a shareholder.

Calmly they set the papers down on his desk, making sure to put them in the appropriate place as he'd probably blow a gasket if his precious desk was messed up. Just as they turned to leave though they were stopped by a hand on their arm. With a curt smile he hung up the phone and put it into his suit pocket.

If only he wasn't so disgustingly hot they thought.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you up here. Those documents were half an hour late." He said cooly as he went to sit at his chair, his figure almost looming over his desk.

"You're my least efficient worker and pay cuts are coming soon..." he trailed off as if he was being mysterious. This was how it happened, back when they had first come here they had been so eager to please. Money moved the world, and they needed it more than anyone else. To admit they were a pushover wasn't easy but it was the truth.

"You know what I've had it up to here with you. Years of being this little toy has done a number on me. Have you ever thought that maybe I don't perform as high as you want because your cock is usually shoved into me?" A crude snarl rose to their face as they stepped forward, rounding the table so they could be at his side instead of in front of him.

"And yet here you are, threatening me. We all know you won't survive here without me, who'd make you cream your pants better than I?" A laugh left them as his eyes widened and his face reddened.

"Who are you to say things like that to me?!" He seemed to flare up defensively, just a scared little boy hiding behind his title... that was all he was. Their hand darted out and wrapped around his throat, slamming his head back against his leather chair. A strangled gasp left him as they straddled his lap, of course his dick was already hard against them.

"Come on now, don't fool yourself. I can tell you're cock's weeping at the sight of me. I have it conditioned after all. You've had years of fun and now it's my turn. I know what you are." They leaned into his chest, their free hand palming at his clothed dick. He shuddered beneath them, finally a drowsy look crossed his eyes.

"You're nothing but a cheap whore in a suit. I'm sure if you weren't in the rat race you'd be sitting at home tied to a chair." They laughed as he tried to fight back against them. Despite his arms being free he barely seemed to push them away. Acting as if he didn't want this.

"It's my turn now." They mused as they shucked their shirt off, letting their nipples rise in the cold air of his office. Immediately his eyes trailed to them, his tongue wetting his lips indiscreetly. A snide laugh left them again.

"See, you're like a dog, aren't you. So hungry for me and yet still so high and mighty. You know you never did beg last time." He seemed to be unaffected by their words as he tried to lean into their grip to get closer to their body. With an angry grunt they shoved him back again, their fingers digging into his skin as a warning. A short groan left him.

"It's your turn to sit back and take it yeah? Come on be a good whore for me." His mouth dropped open as they slowly shifted so they could take his pants off, letting his cock spring free of its cotton bounds. They rolled their eyes as they saw the angry red tip drooling precum.

"Insatiable." They whispered under their breath as they ground their pants into him. The rough fabric seemed to please him though as he tried to wheeze a moan out. They loosened their fingers before letting his neck go entirely, instead using his shoulders as leverage to bounce on him.

"Even now I'm only thinking about your orgasm, how annoying. You'll owe me one for later tonight, how about that." They hummed as the fabric of their own pants rolled over his sensitive dick. He looked up at them with glassy eyes, his words slightly slurred.

"W-what?" Was all he managed, seemingly too far gone but still coherent enough to have his snark.

"I quit, I'm done." They said as they looked down at him, a menacing grin on their face. His eyes seemed to widen but before he could say anything they wrapped their hand around him, tugging his cock roughly. A strangled moan left him as his nails dug into the armrests, his words muffled by his enjoyment.

"But this, this isn't over yet. You owe me for all of those years. You would've gone under if I wasn't acting as stress relief huh?" They cooed mockingly as tears budded at the corners of his eyes.

"You didn't let me cum last time." He managed to say as he looked at them, a small spark of defiance in his eyes.

"Better come up with something worth my time or else I'll leave you dry again." It was like a match was lit between the two of them, both feeding off each other's flame. Yet only one could win out in the end and they knew August would falter.

"Fuck." He groaned as his hands clasped around their waist, not controlling the movement but simply resting there. A small admittance of defeat.

"There are other positions open." He finally yielded, his eyes hateful as he looked up at them. They pretended to think as they stopped their movement, teasing a whine from his throat.

"Not interested." Was all they said.

"I'll pay." Their eyebrow quirked up. They didn't know too much about business but in this state neither did August. All he was doing was chasing his orgasm, the one they had denied him before.

"For what?" So close, they were so close.

"For being my..." A deliberate roll of their hips stopped him in his tracks.

"Fucking fine, for fucking me! I'll pay you to fuck me, just finish me off." A curt laugh left their mouth as they slid off his lap and positioned themselves next to him, their hand gripping him at the base.

"Come on now, that's barely what I want." He groaned as his head fell back to his chair, his teeth grit.

"Please make me cum, please please please." He begged, over and over like the broken record he was. They grinned and began to move their hand up and down his shaft, making sure to miss his head on purpose.

Before he could refute their actions they planted their hand over his mouth, intent on giving him his orgasm but not in the way he wanted it. His hips stuttered as his cock jerked in their hands, pitiful spurts of cum dribbled down his cock and coated their hand as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Their hands left him as the cold air seemed to chill him, his eyes trailed over to them as a silent question formed on his tongue.

"My house, tonight. Maybe this time I'll give you a real climax." They grinned as they turned on their feet and walked to his door.

"Consider this my two weeks." With a wink and a snide smile they were off.

[outsidersheadcanons]

Hiya! Could i get job head canons for the gang? (Not the jobs they already have, jobs you could see them having!) That's all, thanks! (BTW my home page is 99% your posts!!! 🥰)

Ofc!! (Sorry for yapping sm 😭 I'll stop using the tags as much bc I post A LOT more frequently than I thought I would oops)

But here u go!!

English teacher Ponyboy. He would be absolutely OBSESSED with the books he assigns, and he'd love teaching poetry (and reading everyone's essays!!) also ik his lessons would be fun asf

Soda isn't academic, but I feel like he'd love being an equine vet! That way he could be around horses all day (and save them too!) realistically tho I think after he worked at the DX he got a job at the old farm he used to work at training horses instead (bc I want him to be happy <3)

(Modern) I can see Dally working retail or in fast food tbh (only places he can work based off his track record tbh). "Welcome to Taco Bell man 😡"

I can see Steve in the military. Maybe he joined the air force or smth to avoid the draft?? But imagine him. Working on planes in a giant hangar or working in air traffic control

I think Darry would be a good social worker or smth in youth services. Someone on here had a hc that he started fostering kids and that's so. in character. Idk if he'd ever have his own family but he really loves helping others.

Johnny would also go into social work to help kids who grew up the way he did (If he survived ☹️).

Two-bit would sell cars when he got older and manage a dealership (and he'd be such a good salesman). Or maybe he could cut hair. Barber Two-bit would be interesting (and he's a good conversationalist so no one would EVER be bored while he did their hair).

[grapenehifics]

Solsbury Hill question!!

Okay….so Obi-Wan said he was done moving…but then Anakin of course got them a house to rent and move in to!! But, after those 2 years are up….do they move again😳😳😳😳 orrrrr does Anakin and Obi-Wan buyout the house from them??

I don’t know why my brain is suddenly like…WHAT DO THEY DO….but my brain won’t stop thinking about it🤣🤣🤣🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

MY FRIEND you have tickled my brain no end with this ask and I can't stop thinking about it. Because 'what next' - that's the question, isn't it?? I'm bad at endings - I 'stopped' (ha) Solsbury Hill because I thought that was a really good stopping point, but then obviously kept going and now there's a whole Bonus Scenes fic because I can't stop thinking about what they do next either! So, here's some random thoughts that haven't (yet) made it into the Bonus Scenes.

-They've got to figure out Obi-Wan's job, or at least his working conditions. They're trying! Anakin looked into that airplane mechanic program and Obi-Wan started adjuncting but ultimately decided having an on-call schedule wasn't for him/their family. But what he can do, and the direction I think he's eventually going to shift, is social work through the school district (rather than the county). He is using his degree, he's working with kids, but it's going to be a more standard business hours schedule (no more weekends!) and while he's certainly got a lot of kids to work with (the school district of course hires far fewer social workers than they should) he's also not the last line of defense for any of them, and can liaise with their 'regular' county social workers for things they need outside of school. And, side benefit for their family, LAUSD is an enormous district and he can transfer almost anywhere if he needs to.

-By the time the Ersos get back from Europe, a lot of things have changed with their kids. Ahsoka (in the Sick Kids chapters of Bonus Scenes) was in her freshman year of college, living at home and commuting to class. But as she keeps going to school she makes some friends who start talking about getting an apartment near campus together. Anakin and Obi-Wan are of course very determined that she always has a home with them anytime she wants/needs it, but she just isn't at home quite as often as she grows up and could maybe have a pull-out couch, or share bunk beds with Leia, rather than needing her own bedroom. The twins, too, are older and starting to be in school during the day for longer and longer periods of time.

So, all of that, plus Obi-Wan having a related but new, slightly less-stressful job, plus having to leave the house they'd been renting for two years, they talk about changes they could make and things they could give up so that Anakin could quit his job at Mr. Plo's shop and do the airplane mechanic program - but the track that holds classes during the day, rather than in the evenings/at night. So they're down to just Obi-Wan's income, which isn't great, but they take advantage of being a little more mobile and moving so Anakin's commute isn't so long, and by the time he gets out of class either he or Obi-Wan can pick the twins up from daycare and then still have the whole evening to spend with them and do dinner and baths and bedtime and all of that without Obi-Wan and Ahsoka trying to do all of that without Anakin around. (Anakin also makes some money on the side on weekends by flipping classic cars. Obi-Wan is annoyed at having to always find street parking because their assigned parking spots are taken up by Anakin's latest clunker projects, but it makes Anakin happy and he does make them extra income off it so Obi-Wan deals with it.) It still takes two years and yeah it's a big letdown from having their own (rented) house with a little yard and actual bedrooms for the kids AND the adults to not have to sleep in the living room but...

-After two years Anakin gets a much-better paying job at any one of the major or minor airfields in the area (still staying pretty local for both Obi-Wan and Padmé's jobs, because they've got split custody of the twins, and for Ahsoka's school, so that she can come home holidays and weekends without having to travel too far) and THEN they can actually relax a little bit and start thinking about 'what do we WANT to do' and 'where do we WANT to be' without having things they HAVE to do and decisions they HAVE to make just to stay solvent hanging over their heads. But it is a process and I don't want to make it too easy for them ;)

(I also like to think that Obi-Wan really does end up transitioning out of being a full-time social worker himself and into teaching future MSW students at a university. He has the credentials and the experience for it and who doesn't love Professor!Obi-Wan? But that doesn't happen immediately.)

So, in a very long answer to your question, they do have to move a few times again even after leaving the Erso's house, and they may never be the sort of family who can save up enough for a down payment and buy their own home/stop renting but they just might conceivably become the sort of family who isn't quite living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore and that's a really big deal for them and a ton of progress that they really have to fight for but they do it!

Thank you for asking this and getting me back into the swing of this fic because I love and miss them, too ♥

[dinogoofy]

Sorry about the wait guys. This past couple of weeks has been a shit show, lot of shoots writing assignments, i was threatened at work, you know. Normal shit. but I'm trying my best to catch up!

Sorry that the ending is a little rushed

There's a friendly Gargoyle on top of your apartment building. He's pretty handsome for a statue, and you've taken a liking to him. You sit against him sometimes while reading or doing some work. You're enjoying the ambiance of the rooftop during the full-moon in October, and lean over and kiss him on the shoulder. It's silly, you know, but you wanted to thank him for being such a good friend. All of a sudden, he starts to move. You're completely embarrassed, but he thinks it's funny. Turns out, he thinks you're pretty cute too!

  This week was a shit show. 

   Really. You’ve been overworked due to that one flakey co-worker who always seems to call out and leave you with the majority of the work, on top of your nine-day work week this week. Nine days. Jesus christ, it was such a nightmare. To make it worse, you were really hoping to do something with your friends this week. Most of them had said they were tired, or busy with one thing or another, and you were fine with that. 

   At least you were, at first. You’re lounging on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through social media and trying to take your mind off of things. Things dont work out sometimes, you knew that. But it felt so isolating. You sigh, opening snapchat. You see a new story from one of the friends you had spoken with, and opened it.

   You heart sunk a little. She was out partying with the friend group. Your friendgroup. Everyone was there, exempt for Sonya, who was deployed at the moment. You scowl. Well, at least you had one friend you could trust. You leave your phone on the couch, and grab your bag and a book.

   You just wanted to get away, and you knew just where to go.

   It was really chilly out tonight, the moon was full, the sky surprisingly full of stars, despite the light pollution usually blocking them out. You sigh, droping your bag haphazardly on the roof before making your way over to your favorite spot. 

   An old gargoyle sits on the roof of your building. He looks out of place compared to the rest of the architecture of the buildings around you, as the rest of the city urbanised much quicker than your basically historic apartment building. He’s solid stone, the size of a regular man. He’s crouched on the ledge, a serious face with intricate carvings across his face and arms. His hands and feet aren’t quite human-like, looking almost like paws with weathered claws to match. Two huge wings are splayed out behind him in an intimidating display, supposedly to ward of demons and evil spirits. The owner of the builing, the grandson of the man who had built the building and commissioned the gargoyle, had a tendency to go on and on about the stone guardian, but you had a much more simple attachment to him.

   You sit down on the ledge of the roof, feet dangling over the side as you scoot closer underneath the wings of the gargoyle.

   “Oh man, do I have some tea to tell you.” You sigh. Your long-winded rant of the day begins, slowly turning into more and more delirious thoughts. Maybe the group didn't invite you because partying can tire you out. Maybe it was because they wanted to bar hop in dive bars and you hated dive bars. Thoughts like this started to spiral. Then you started to land on lack-of-boyfriend thought, and how every relationship, long or short term, has failed spectacularly.

   "You know, I'm pretty sure you're the most consistent man I've ever had in my life." You sigh with a smile. "-Assuming you are, indeed a man, that is." The dlerious giggles bubble out of you, and you wipe your eyes as they start to die down. 

   "God, what am I doing with my life." You lean a little more heavily onto the side of the Gargoyle, closing your eyes to take in the feeling of cool stone and cool air on your skin. Feeling a little goofy, maybe a little sentimental, you turn your head and press a kiss to the stone cheek of the Gargoyle. 

   You sit there in silence for a moment, frowning as you think about your shitty week and your shitty "friends", when a shift from the stone makes your heart drop into your stomach. You slip for a second before jerking your weight backwards in panic, and off of the ledge back onto the flat roof. Fuck fuck fuck. Did you just fucking break the most-likely hundred year old stone sculpture? Your eyes are clenched shut, waiting for the dreaded sound of stone hitting the concrete stories below you. But after a couple moments of nothing happening, you nervously crack an eye open.

   The Gargoyle is fine. In fact, it's in perfect condition. The only thing is- it had moved. It had turned around in a complete 180, facing you on the roof. It looks exactly as it did before, just, rotated. 

   "That's… strange." You breathe. Man, you must be drunk, or drugged or something because you could have sworn-

   "What's strange?" The Gargoyle asks. His stone wings twitch as he smiles at you, face full of confusion.

   You shriek.

   He holds his clawed hands out in front of himself, shushing you as you crawl backwards away from him. 

   "It's okay- it's okay! It's just me!" This has to be some sort of nightmare. The Gargoyle stands, stone grinding on stone as he walks toward you. Your back hits your bag from where you had sloppily left it from before. You grab it and chuck it at him, standing and turning to run to the stairwell. He catches it easily, frowning. You're almost at the stairwell, but you hear the flap of huge wings and then the Gargoyle lands in front of you, bag in hand. Cutting you off from your escape route. 

   "Jesus fucking christ!" You wheeze. Flinching. You hadn't expected a literal HUNK OF STONE to be so fast, but then again, you didn't expect him to move either. 

   "Are you okay?" He asks, holding your bag out to you. You just stare at him for a moment, and then after her nudges it out to you again, you slowly reach out and take it. 

   "Oh man," You say. "This is so freaky." The Gargoyle gives you a cautious smile, shifting as he stands. His wings settle lower behind him. 

   "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He says. You press your lips into a line. You didn't really know what to say. In all honesty, you're kind of still in shock.

   "So… you- uh, you can move?" You muse in an uncertain tone. It comes out more like a statement than a question. The Gargoyle nods. 

   "The entire time?" You ask. He nods again, wings twitching idly.

   "And you've heard everything too…?" He shifts at that question, tilting his head at you in a confused display.

   "Of course I have." He says. "Was I not supposed to?" You blush a little, think back to all the nights you've come up here tipsy, spilling some amount of embarrassing secrets to the Gargoyle. You sigh, pressing your palms into the outline of your eye sockets.

   "I- well, I guess I can't say that. I was talking to you after all." You pout. When you pull away your hands, he's looking at you with the most adorable concerned face. You're a little taken back, you didn't expect something so… scary? To act like a puppy dog. You smile a little, but you still had more questions to ask.

   "Why haven't you moved until now?" You ask. He shrugs, leaning back on the heels of his feet.

   "I couldn’t. Gargoyles are made to remain still for as long as our master demands protection, or at least until a threat appears." He says. "I'm not entirely sure what change has caused my freedom at the moment." You nodd, a little lost at the explanation. It seems that there's a lot that just goes over your head with this whole moving gargoyle business. You don't really know what to say. The Gargoyle steps towards you all of a sudden, reaching out to take one of your hands into his own rather gingerly.

   "I'm not really supposed to be moving now, to be honest. But I couldn't stand to sit there a moment longer. I've enjoyed your company, and I wanted to introduce myself properly."

You can't help but giggle at his eager words, still a little embarrassed that you were taking to a real person the entire time. He introduced himself as Syzoth, and you find yourself strangely endeared by him. The space between you had closed a little, and before you knew it. He's leaning in close to your face. 

    "Wait- hold on a moment..!" You say, blushing and leaning away. He sets his hands on your arms as they rest against his chest, and cocks his head at you?

   "Am I not supposed to kiss you? You kissed me just earlier. Was I not supposed to return the favor…?" He says, confused. "This is what humans do to show affection is it not?"

   "I- well, I'm not saying you can't kiss me. I just-" He cuts you off, leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to your own. You're startled at first, but fuck it. He seemed so sweet, and he's gentle with you, and to be honest you really, really wanted to kiss him back. So you did. You lean into the kiss, deepening it, and you can feel him smile against you. His lips are surprisingly smooth, and he lets you deepen and control the kiss instead of himself. You have a feeling it's because he doesn't want to pinch you.

   When he pulls away, he has the sweetest, goofiest smile on his face.

   "I would very much like to do that more often." He says. You can't help but giggle at him. He looks a little confused, so you lean in and kiss him again sweetly. If stone could blush, he'd probably be red from head to shoulders. You decide that you might want to do that more often, too.

[darknights04]

Wallpaper

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!reader

Summary: Based on the song Wallpaper by Megan Cormwell. You and Sebastian had always been close until a new student transferred to Hogwarts. When the Yule ball arrives at Hogwarts, you seem to have no one to attend with. However, Ominis Gaunt, seeing how Sebastian has affected you, swopped in to save the day.

Warnings: None I think? Sebastian and MC being cold-hearted and straight-up rude. Fluffy/protective Ominis ❤

The Yule ball had finally come to Hogwarts with Christmas time fast approaching. Being from a pure-blooded family, you were not unfamiliar with balls. Even in the wizarding world, the social season was still in full swing when the term ended each year, leaving your parents plenty of time to throw you into ball gowns and parade you around like cattle for sale. So while the Yule ball would not be your first, it was the first you had been looking forward to. At least, that’s how you felt at the beginning of the year. When the new year started, it was no question that you and Sebastian would attend the ball together. You had not been courting in any sense of the word, but you had always been there for each other when it mattered. You had always been there to support him, and he you. But then, the new student transferred to Hogwarts. 

Initially, you wouldn’t have batted an eye at Sebatian’s interest in the new student. In fact, you had encouraged him. But then he began to change. It started with missed study dates in the library. No big deal, Sebastian hated to study anyways. Then, it was missed meals. Maybe he slept in, maybe he forgot to do the assignment from the night before and needs time to make it up. No big deal. And then, you’d see them together. When Sebastian was supposed to be with you, he was with them. Every once in a while turned into every day of the week. It was like you didn’t even exist anymore. 

Your breaking point was when he ran into you one night in your common room. After being ghosted so many times in the library, you moved your personal study session to the comfort of the Slytherin common room by the fireplace. It felt less lonely there. One day, Sebastian rushed in beside where you were sat. His tie was loosened and he was pacing back and forth, muttering incoherently to himself. 

“Has something happened?” you had asked him after watching for a few moments. Something clearly had him bothered. 

“Y/n!” he exclaimed in a tone of surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

“Studying,” you stated quite bluntly, motioning to your stack of books. “As I have every day for the last few weeks.” 

After a few more paces back and forth and a deep sigh, Sebastian spoke again. “Can I vent to you for a moment?” he asked. 

“You know you’re always welcome to.” 

“Thank you,” he said, taking a deep breath as if to gather up all of his thoughts into something coherent. “I’ve just found out that MC has been fraternizing with goblins,” he spat with disgust. Your concern dropped slightly at the mention of their name. 

“Really?” you had replied half-heartedly. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways as he didn’t seem to even hear you. 

“Goblins! I mean can you believe it? Out of all the people in the world, they just had to ask a goblin for help. After everything? With Anne? At Gringgots?” 

“Gringgots?” you interrupted. “What happened at Gringots? Did one of the workers do something?” 

Sebastian, realizing his mistake, quickly put his hand over his mouth. “Forget I said anything,” he said quickly, beginning to leave the room. 

“Sebastian!” you called after him. “Wait! Please!” He faltered for just a moment, his back still facing you as you spoke. “We used to tell each other everything. What’s changed? Have I done something?” 

He sighed but still made no move to face you. “Just… please don’t tell MC I said anything to you, okay?”

You stood in silence for a moment, questioning in your head if this was truly happening. “O- Of course,” you managed. 

“Thank you,” he said once more before going up the stairs to his dorm, leaving you alone by the fireplace. 

Not only had he come to you to vent about someone else after not speaking to you in weeks, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care about your presence until you spoke up. At that moment, the common room had never felt so lonely. 

---

It was finally time for the Yule ball and you had been dreading every second. Up until this point, you had not even thought about what was to happen now that you and Sebastian haven’t been speaking. You didn’t make the effort to secure another escort as it never crossed your mind. And no one cared to ask you since they too are used to assuming you and him did everything together. For a while, you had seriously considered not going to the ball at all. Why condemn yourself to seeing everyone else so happy? However, in the end, you decided that wallowing in your own self-pity wouldn’t do you any good either. Besides, as much as you complained about balls to your mother, you rather liked playing dress up for the night and getting to feel like a princess. Perhaps it would make you feel better in the end.  

When leaving your dorm, you felt absolutely beautiful. It had been months since you wore anything this exquisite. With your hair done and a light tint added to your lips and cheeks, you did truly feel like royalty. All these feelings left you the moment you descended the stairs to the great hall. 

The room was crowded, everyone who didn’t go home for winter break had been there, but your eyes were scanning the room for only one other. When you found him, your heart began to soar. He was looking at you with more love and adoration than you had ever seen before. You thought maybe this could be a turning point for you both. That was until his gaze moved, following another form coming down the stairs beside you. He was never looking at you, he was looking at them. You might as well not have existed at that moment, as his gaze went right through you like you were a sheet of glass. If not for your pride, you would have turned back to your dormitory at that same moment. But people were watching, and you wouldn’t let him get the best of you. Not this time. 

When the dancing started, you couldn’t help but watch the two of them together on the floor. They moved in perfect harmony like they were made for each other. And you stood to the side, seemingly invisible to them. You felt as if you were blended in with the wallpaper. This was a new feeling for you. At your parents’ balls, you were the diamond of the party. Everyone wanted a dance with you. You’d never been the wallflower before. But here, you were untouchable. Hardly anyone would even spare you a glance.

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat beside you. “You look far too beautiful tonight to not be on the dance floor,” he said.

You turned and let out a small chuckle when you saw the voice belonged to Omins Gaunt. “And how would you know how I look tonight?” you asked him with a smirk. “It’s not as if you could see me and chose for yourself.” “No but I was standing next to Garrenth Weasly when you walked in,” he explained simply. Now it was he who sported a smirk on his face. “When he told Leander to look your way as well I could practically hear the breath leave their lungs.” At this, you weren’t sure what to say. As if he knew the effect his words had on you, Ominis simply held out his arm. “Now how about that dance?” 

He led you to the center of the floor with all the confidence that a blind man could have in a room full of people. When the music began, he took his position across from you. 

“Do you know this dance?” you asked him. He chuckled, though it sounded more like a scoff.

“You know, you’re not the only one of high social standing Ms. L/n,” he said teasingly. 

You laughed. “Well, I wasn’t sure if your parents had still forced you to learn all of these ridiculous dances. Being blind and all.” 

As the music started, you both began to move in sync with it, along with your other classmates in attendance. 

“I have to admit,” he started, “I prefer dancing to most other day-to-day activities.” 

“Is that so?” 

Ominis nodded as he took your hand, twirling you as the music commanded before pulling you back to his chest, your other hand on his shoulder and his on your waist. 

“Dancing is the one thing I don’t require guidance for, once I learned the steps. I know where I need to be at every moment in the music, and where everyone else will be at most any given moment.”

“That… actually makes sense,” you said with a small nod. “Why haven’t I seen you at any of our balls throughout the summer?” 

“My parents didn’t see a point in bringing me,” he shrugged. “They figured you’d be courted by Sebastian as soon as we came of age.”

At the mention of Sebastian, you turned to see him dancing with MC. They looked so happy together. 

“Do you think he’ll start to court them when the term ends?” you sighed. You couldn’t be upset. 

No one stole him from you. He wasn’t yours to steal. 

“Hey,” Ominis said, pulling you from your thoughts. He hooked his finger under your chin and turned your head to look at him. “Don’t think about them anymore. Not tonight. Just keep your eyes on me.” 

You took a deep breath and nodded your head, continuing to move with Ominis. As the music crescendoed, everyone in the room lifted their partners into the air, the feeling of the wind brushing the peak of your cheeks was almost euphoric. For the first time in weeks, Sebastian was not the first thought on your mind. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized he’s been clouding your thoughts for far too long. The hope that maybe something romantic would blossom between you two kept you from seeing possibility in anybody else. But the truth was, Ominis had always been here on the sidelines. Waiting for when you needed someone to fall back on. The way you were feeling right now was how he felt every day you favored Sebastian’s attention.  

When he pulled you back to his chest, you rested your head on Ominis’s shoulder and wrapped both arms around his neck, causing the boy to jum[ slightly.

“Thank you,” you said softly. 

“For what?” 

“For always being here for me. Even when I don’t notice right away. You’ve always been there for me.” 

Ominis smiled into your hair, brushing it back slightly as he continued to sway you back and forth as you simply enjoyed one another’s embrace. As the current song ended, he pulled back from you so you could look him in the eye. “I will always be here for you,” he said, taking your hands again. The next song began to start up again and Ominis smirked, taking position for the next dance. “Now, let’s give these blokes something to stare at, shall we?” 

You began to laugh as Ominis led you to the center of the floor, exaggerating each dip and stride to catch the attention of everyone in the room. You followed suit. As you both danced and twirled around the other, the rest of the room couldn’t help but stare and gawk at how well you complimented each other. Like you were made perfectly for the other. While Sebastian always seemed to outshine you, Ominis knew just how to make you shine brighter. Bright enough to catch the man in question’s attention itself. But you didn’t care. The way Ominis danced with you made any thought of Sebastian go from the back of your mind to not existent at all. A feeling that you never wanted to let go of. 

[solarishashernoseinabook]

So, look, I hate small talk as much as the next person. It's awkward, it's fake, it's a skill that takes practice. And it's also an important skill to learn.

Why? Well, for many reasons, but in this post I want to highlight one particular reason: small talk is how you stay civil and polite with people you're not friends with

I like my co-workers, I do! But in every workplace, there will be at least one person you don't like. Maybe they have an annoying laugh, or opinions you disagree with, or you find them boring or obnoxious. And you will have to work with them anyway.

I'm not saying you have to be friends with them. But if you very pointedly never talk to them, you will be the rude one in that scenario. If you make it obvious you don't like them, they will have every right to complain about your treatment of them. You're going to have to interact, but it's fair to not want to have deep discussions with someone you don't like. So what do you do? You engage in small talk. Chit chat. Water cooler talk. You talk about the weather or your latest work assignment or things in the city or the sports game. Bam, social obligations fulfilled, you have been polite and can go on with your day now

[underscar]

MISTRESS

Pairing: Beam/Female Reader

Summary: While in a state of nihility, you await the assignment of a buddy. Soon after your partner's departure, you’re given the info regarding your next partner. They wanted to try out this experiment, where devil hunters are paired with manageable fiends, on you because of your demonstrated dedication as a devil hunter. You didn’t object, there wasn’t much you could do but accept . Maybe it’ll make losing a partner easier, you thought. You were wrong, so wrong. Beam made things enjoyable and charmed you with his carefree manner. You broke the rules for him, with him, and more for the first time. Though life as a devil-hunter never had sappy-happy endings.

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: PART ONE - PART THREE - PART FOUR (TBP)

yeah, this is a long one, buddy. (this is part 2)

WORD COUNT // 12,389 words

The place you called home was completely dark and smoke-filled. The blue screen became hazy in your eyesight as the smoke gradually expanded the area. Your nose and throat have lost all sensation.

You were sucked into the cushions of the couch even more, the cushion's roughness is noticeable on your skin given how little it was washed. 

The motions on the TV screen danced in your pupils as the vibrant light reflected off of your quiet eyes. They're laughing and smiling on the screen, the actors, or rather, their characters, are. You watch this show every day after work even though it is dreadful. It's been a long time since you've watched an episode of Friends and smiled with them. Watching them has not been the same since you were a child, nothing since then has stayed the same. 

Things were so damn simpler, back then.

The absence of light was evident. The only light that was present was from your TV, where its beam illuminated the room. You were laying on a curved couch in front of the flat-screen television. The décor in your apartment was monotonous and expressionless. You had a tall couch, and a tall television stand, and overall everything stood tall. The plants you had installed when you first moved in have been neglected for so long that they're nearing their end. Their demises were ignored in your amenity.

Smoke escaped from your mouth as you exhaled. Your bare arm rested on the side of the couch, remote and charring cigarette in hand, your shirt and tie left neglected on the floor. It was a brief and uneventful day for you despite everything. Don't be bothered, but 'twas your birthday today. A day made notable by whoever gave a damn, and you sure as hell didn't.

Besides, you didn't have anyone you wanted to go out with. For instance, you didn't even tell any of your co-workers about it. Whoever they are. You didn't know. Why bother remembering their names when they were vanishing by the day? Socializing was bothersome anyway.

Nonetheless, the question is, how d'ya manage to get the day off? Well, Makima, the new chief lady, pulled you to the side when you arrived at work that morning. It came as a surprise to you when she suggested that you take the day off on your birthday, for you to appreciate it. You assumed she discovered your birthday from your file or something of that sort. Unrealistic to assume she just knew.

Not like you both were buddies.

Anyhow, there wasn't much of a problem with your absence. Work had been lackluster as of late with you not having a partner, and thus not doing much work in the field with the horrid devils. To ensure that at least one devil hunter can return, the majority of them are sent with their partners. Really, all you've been doing is waiting for your next one to come, along with some paperwork, of course.

Shame what happened to your last partner. God bless his soul. The man didn't die or anything, but the lifestyle of a devil hunter, fucked with his head. He abruptly resigned, which was not all that shocking, and it had now been over three weeks. For roughly two months, you were partnered.

Despite appearing unconcerned to the naked eye, you secretly wished him the best. You didn't know him long but you think you remember him saying how he had a family or some shit. His wise choice to prioritize oneself over this soul-crushing career truly made you consider leaving and pursuing something else as well.

Whereas this thought was a temporary fantasy and ridden as dust as your hand unconsciously grazes your bare stomach, scars from years of this bullshit that pays the rent are all your fingers felt. The sensation your fingertip heeded, the jaggedness, makes your mind flash through all the horrid memories it mercilessly stored. From your youth to the start of your career as a devil hunter. Both were moments where your life appeared to be falling apart. This is your life. Each scar held a story you could only wish to forget. All this thinkin' had you remember Kishibe. 

You sighed at the thought, and smoke flew out, grazing your bottom lip.

"Fifty men and women rushed in to save the little girl!"

On the television, a man's voice exclaimed. His exclamation locked your stray gaze, successfully escaping the madness your mind contained. 

You continue to watch the screen half-heartedly as your hand robotically raises the volume. Normally, you weren't one for the news. Not with the career you uphold. But hell, why not? Given that everything was being shown live, it sounded like a typical "hero civilians" tale.

The newscaster continued, elaborating more. "A fiend has restricted the girl and her family inside. Where are the devil hunters? No problem." The young man pointed behind him at the run-down house, "these civilians are tired of waiting and are rushing in!" he stated.

You bring your right leg up onto the couch, resting your cheek against your knee, leaving you in an odd, but weirdly comfortable position. "A fiend huh?" Feels like you can never truly escape the devil's mania.

You wondered what type of fiend it was, and why exactly those fifty civilians just walked their way into the building with niche weapons. It's tragic how these conflicts typically turned out, pitting humanity against devils.

You knew this better than any civilian. You're a professional after all. There was only one way your brain could see this broadcast ends. Maybe two? Neither two joyous.

Hilariously, comically almost, right after the newscaster's bold statement, the man's face suddenly goes stiff and he leans forward, him holding his ear. It appeared as though he was listening to something entirely undisclosed to the viewer, whatever was being said causing his face to pale, and his handsome smile to falter, along with his masculine tone, it now turning into a sheepish boy.

"W-What?" he stuttered, eyes no longer on the camera but instead down on the ground. After half a minute the man nods and finally begins to proceed in the broadcasting. "Um...they all died.." he reported. To likely every viewer's shock. How could this live broadcasting go from happy-go-lucky to the reporting of fifty people's death?

In your mind, it made it more real. Because in real life, things can go from zero to a thousand in a matter of milliseconds. What a cruel joke. 

The newscaster cleared his throat, his face straight. "Just in, the little girl killed them. E-Every single last one of them. There was a misunderstanding. She was the fiend and her whereabouts are in the dark as of right now..."

He continued to warn locals of the wandering fiend, and with that, you dissociated. Your eyes bore through the screen for a second, and your mind processed the information before closing them, irritated.

"Buncha' idiots," you muttered.

You turned the television off, eloping you in pure, dreadful darkness. The noises from the night city below your apartment made you rub your head in frustration. You placed your leg back onto the floor and then rested your elbows on your knees, back arched forward as you rubbed your eyes and held your head.

"Didn't come here to hear this shit," you groaned.

When opting to report this before the problem had been fully settled, the news station must have been in over its heads. How miserable. For those ratings, they wanted that "happy" story, didn't they?

You put out your cigarette and stood up from the couch, placing your scarred hands into your grey sweatpants pockets. You had trouble keeping your head up. That's enough TV for today, you thought. 

You crouch down, grabbing your crinkled uniform shirt and tie from the floor, groaning about your back as you arise.

The slam from the washing machine didn't faze you. You click the button to begin the washing cycle and head straight toward the refrigerator not far from your washing and drying machine. 

The stainless steel fridge buzzes as you apathetically gazed inside, holding the fridge door open with your other hand.

You heedlessly grab a cold can of beer and closed the door. On your way out of the kitchen, you grab two bags of chips off the counter and carry them through your apartment's hallways toward the bedroom.

Once inside your bedroom, you placed the junk onto your nightstand and flop down on your unmade bed. You roll onto your side and reach for your laptop, powering it on. As your laptop powered on you proceeded to pull your sweatpants off and kick them off onto the floor.

You sit up, underneath the blankets, and place your laptop onto your lap, proceeding to type your password. Since that broadcast fucked up your mood, and you're not tired yet, you might as well check your emails.

You click on a bookmark and it instantly takes you to your Gmail account. Your attention is drawn to the most recent email like a moth to a light bulb. It came from Makima, and they had chosen a partner for you.

Now that you think of it, did Makima give you the day off because she found you a partner? But why all the dramatics? This isn't your first rodeo, you didn't need to be sent home to 'mourn' or whatever.

Despite everything about this seeming entirely premeditated, you no longer gave a damn. Your eyes scanned the screen, reading the message. The message explained in detail this concept of sorts. Devil-hunters working with fiends. Along with how you were being offered to basically be a test subject. You reread the message and noticed that attached was a file of who your 'partner' was.

Surprisingly, your curiosity wasn't peak, you were pissed. First, you process what was being asked, more like told to you. You, a devil-hunter who has killed your fair share of fiends, alongside devils. Why should you work with an idiotic fiend? Who thought this was a good idea?

"What a buncha' baloney," you utter, eyes glued on the screen. This is entirely disrespectful to you.

Many other questions arise with this concept. What if this fiend kills someone on the job? Hell, you aren't interested in getting blamed for anything that wasn't your fault!

You lean over to the side to grab your beer. You position your index finger under the tab's ring and pull. It was cold in your hand but you didn't care as you chugged half the can down, some dripping down onto your chest and faintly drenching your sports bra and sheets. You placed the can back onto the desk and exchanged it for a bag of the chip.

No point in complaining in bed, there wasn't much you could do but accept. You'll give Makima a piece of your mind tomorrow. You opened the attached file and the document slowly loaded while you chomped down a handful of Doritos.

Maybe having a fiend as a partner will make it less burdensome when they're dead and gone.

The document finally decided to finish loading and you were faced with a screen of words.

The first bag of chips was finished and thrown onto the floor and the other grabbed another other bags. 

"What's with fiends and their weird ass names?" you whispered while placing your legs in the crisscross position. The fiend's name, or rather, your partner's name you guess, was Beam.

Your eyes continued reading, the blue light from your laptop's screen reflecting from your tired eyes. The document stated the basics of this fiend. He was the Shark Fiend, the devil who embodies the fear of sharks that's now a fiend. The following section detailed the fiends apparent personality. It stated the following: 

"Beam is childish, and one with a mentality similar to a child in some aspects. His attention span was ever so short unless he was doing something he found enjoyable.

"Speaking of things this fiend enjoys, he fancies fighting and eating. He's a bit eccentric, and his speaking style is hard to put into words. Beam often gives nicknames to people he likes, odd nicknames such as 'Master' or just copying a nickname he's heard given to the said person.

"Based on our interview with Beam, we have noticed he doesn't like wearing clothing. Every time he was dressed the next second he was exposed. We weren't able to convince him to wear a shirt, but we did successfully get him to wear pants.

"Regardless of everything said, Beam does have impressive control over his cravings, and above-average intelligence than other fiends."

You sighed. You got stuck with a child-like fiend of all things. Has Makima meetcha? You weren't exactly one for children, at least, not anymore. Kids only reminded you of the bad memories and how fucked up your life is. 

You wiped the beer off your mouth, smearing it into nonexistence.

To be completely honest withcha self you weren't in the mood to complain anymore. This fiend guy or whatever was just gonna be your partner, no matter what you thought. If you're lucky he'll get eaten by a devil or kill someone and be sufficiently executed. Tomorrow you's problem. The next thing on your agenda is to get a few hours of sleep before work. But first, gotta dry those clothes for work tomorrow.

You groaned. Having stated that you closed your laptop and went back to doing your chores before quickly dozing off, wishing the light would never rise and for the night to last forever.

The next morning you approached Makima, a wooden toothpick between your lips and scowl fully exposed. You strolled the hallways of your workplace, people you passed saying morning as you brazenly passed them. Today, you weren't in the mood for their trivial greetings. You had a question you wanted an explanation for. 

“What’s all this about?” you questioned the woman.

She stood coolly as always, not once have you seen Makima sweat from stress or intimidated. Ya can’t say you’ve never felt discomfiting around her presence, but unlike some other devil-hunters, you were trained to not show any of your emotions. Negative or positive. Devils feed off both, instead of just fear as many believe. Your instructor taught you that when you were a noob at this. 

Makima’s gold eyes didn’t falter at your harsh tone. She didn’t raise her voice, glare at you, hell, punches you. Rather, she complimented you. 

“You’re a dependable devil-hunter. And simply, I saw it best to choose you for this task,” she stated, simply. After a second or two passed, she continued.

“Is that understood?” 

You didn’t quickly respond. Voicelessly, you chewed your toothpick, twisting and turning it with your teeth. Somehow, the spark within you falters when you speak to Makima. She tired you out, simply with her presence. 

“...Where's my bud?" you finally asked. placing your hands whiten your slacks pockets. 

Makima nodded, taking this as a yes from you. “Good. He’s being transported here for your meeting. I actually already have an assignment for the two of you.”  

Now that was surprising, she expected you to just get along with a fiend that quickly? You twisted and turned the toothpick, the sharp edge poking your gums. “Yippie,” you sarcastically said in response. 

Makima nodded, pleased with your appliance. She began to part ways with you before turning back around. “Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday. Happy 28th birthday,” she smiled. That’s the first person in years, even though it’s a day late, to tell you a happy birthday. How depressing, you could weep like a cloud. Your expression didn’t shift with Makima’s jokes, or whatever the fuck this was. 

With a shrug, you decide to entertain the woman. “Didja gets me a gift or something,” you mocked. Though she answered it as a question. 

“Unfortunately, I did not. However, I do have some paperwork I need you to look over. It’s on your desk,” she told, before leaving you alone in your spot, face ever so blank. 

You removed your toothpick and rubbed your temples with a sigh. “Give me a damn break, Makima.” Soon, you also turn oppositely from Makima, and stroll back to your desk, a permanent scowl implanted on your face for the entirety of the morning.

The morning went on quickly yet slowly. You read the paperwork that Makima ever so kindly left for you regarding your partnership with the fiend. After finishing up with those papers you then read up a bit about the assignment Makima laid out for you and your partner. Then you went downstairs to greet, to put it simply, your new partner. 

One headache after the other. 

This whole experiment thing, fiends partnering with devil hunters, was weird to you, but hell, weird is your normal. You were somewhat glad you could go back on the field, paperwork was getting so fucking boring. 

In the back of the HQ building, was an army van parked, and a man in a combat getup standing in front of it. You sighed when you approached the man, ready to get this all over with. 

“Tis’ the fiend?” you asked hands in slacks pockets.

The man's hands were behind his back, posture straight, a head taller than you. He nodded. “Yes ma’am. And you’re _____ _____, I’m assuming?” he asked in a polite tone. 

“Mhm,” you responded, chewing your tongue aloofly.

“Honestly didn’t expect a devil-hunter to look like ya,” he stated offhandedly, all while unlocking the van's back door locks. 

You bit your cheek, tilting your head sluggishly. The man had waited maybe half a minute before you found the strength to respond. You had an idea of what he was saying, probably was flirting with you, not to sound cocky or anything. 

“Look like what?” you asked, challenging his statement for no damn reason. The tone you held must’ve been a little harsher than intended as the bulky man in front of you faltered on his words like a grade-schooler at a spelling bee.

His face expressed realization, and he rubbed his neck apologetically. “Apologies. Disregard that. Ha, It wasn’t appropriate,” he apologized before clearing his throat awkwardly. Flirting it was then. Cool. Guess you’re delighted to be right.

“Nah, it’s cool,” you eased without much thought. You had to be honest, you were being harsh for no reason. Must be boredom. Tis’ probably why you can’t keep people in your life. What’s the reason again? Who’s the problem? Oh, the problem is you. And the reason is that you don’t put in the effort. Or, if you want to deflect you can just say no one ever puts in the effort for you. Not your parents, not your coworkers, hell, you don’t put effort into yourself either. What a dull life. 

You squint your eyes. The sun takes a mischievous peak beside the building, and the blaring light shines past Devil Hunters Tokyo HQ, behind you, the man, and the military van. You admired, more like observed the scenery behind HQ’s building. 

There's a dumpster, littered trash, cigarette buds, and a condom or two. And here you are, waiting to meet your new partner that isn’t even human in such a scenic environment. God, you wish you didn’t come in today.

While you were admiring your surroundings, you must’ve missed the guy opening the van back and turning back to you. He called your name perhaps a hundred times before you eventually responded. You are so out of it today, man. The moment the man has your attention, he starts to repeat or say what he was about to say when you lost focus. 

“The fiend is inside,” he stated, shrugging inside the van that was filled with clouded darkness. You turned on your side and cast a quick glimpse inside. Your demeanor remained unaffected. You couldn't see a damn thing, not because you weren't a bit concerned. This guy might have night vision or some shit but you sure don’t.

You both exchange glances, and you awkwardly nod to show him that you at least acknowledge the presence of a fiend inside. Just can’t see it apparently. The man pauses for a brief moment before restating. 

"It's not coming out, um. The fiend, that is," he clarified.

"Oh, okay then,” you said, turning back to the open van with no light. With a groan, you began to call out to the fiend. “Hey, buddy! Come on out. What are ya, scared of the light?” you jested. 

At first, there was no movement or sound from the van. Until it spoke, the shadows spoke, barely audible, hesitant almost. “Are you my buddy?” the darkness asked you. 

You dropped your hands into your slacks pockets before responding unenthusiastically. “Yep, that would be me...” Can not believe you’re making conversation with a fiend. “You’re my partner, bub,” you added, mostly saying this to yourself. To remind you that this fiend is your partner and you aren’t his. You aren't equal. 

Another silence surrounded you all before the fiend responded. However, this time it came out of the van in all its glory. You clenched your teeth.

The shark fiend’s human form resembles an athletic young man, just without the chiseled face. Instead, he had a shark's snout and fin rather than the top half of his head, and no eyes to be seen. Wonder how things look through his eyes. Just like the file you were given said, he wore no shirt, exposing his torso. As they had mentioned, he only wearing a pair of swimming trunks. Thankfully you were prepared for the sight. 

“Yes! I am Beam!” he clamored. There was no longer any hesitance or timidness in his voice, instead, it was replaced with lucrative energy and delight. The shark fiend had the biggest grin on his face as he absorbed your cold presence and observed the features of his human partner. 

You didn’t respond right away, making the fiend stare at you, in anticipation, you guessed. With a shrug you reply, turning on your heel in the process. “Kay. Follow me,” you said, walking from the van and to the side building exit. You waved your hand back to the man in the uniform, your other in your slacks pockets. “Thanks for the help, bud.”

You did not wait for the fiend in your steps, making Beam rush after you like a child playing tag with their friends. As he went after you he also waived after the guy: copying you. “I thank you also, human guy bud!” he rejoiced as he followed behind you. 

The walk was quiet, no action was made by you to insinuate the conversation. Beam would observe your side view every few seconds as he walked beside you now. 

Beam didn’t know where he was or where you were both going. The sights that surrounded him were uninteresting. There were empty food stalls, empty grass fields, and a large empty playground. Now that he thought about it, Beam thought these places looked fun, and he wanted to touch all of them! 

Before he could ponder about the sights further he notices you voicelessly take a box of cigarettes out. He decides to take this as his chance to strike up a conversation. Though your fast walking pace made it sort of hard for him to speak and walk. Normally he’d just walk through anything in his way, it’s simpler that way! 

“Ahhhhh, buddy, where are we going?” he asked. He waited patiently for you to respond. You had a cigarette between your lips and a lighter in your grasp. When he doesn’t get a response he just thinks you didn’t hear him so he asks again. “Excuse me, buddy! Where are we going too?” he repeated, making you internally sigh. 

You exhale, smoking escaping in the process. “To fight some baddies. A devil kinda like’cha,” you responded. You spent the entire morning reading the assignment that Makima wanted you and your "partner" to carry out considering your skills were appropriate for the aforementioned devil. 

Beam gleamed at this. “We’re already fighting? I’m very excited!” he gushed, smiling boyishly. 

You shrugged. “You sure are talkative,” you uttered. It wasn’t like you weren't prepared for Beam's personality, they did give you his file. However, reading it and experiencing it were two different things; that can be said for many other things. 

Beam's smile seemed to grow, sharp teeth exposed. ‘Yes! I very much enjoy talking. And I am Beam!” he jabbered. Beam was happy you were starting to talk to him, so he reintroduced himself. Irritating you unintentionally. 

“Heard ya the first time Beam,” you grumbled, putting out the cigarette in your suit's sleeve. 

Beam however didn’t catch your annoyance and continued. “Your name is _____ _____. Correct?” 

Whoever brought Beam to Tokyo must’ve told you your name since you didn’t introduce yourself to the fiend earlier. You nodded. “Correcto, Beam,” you confirmed.

He crossed his bare arms and stopped in place, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “Humans have such long and complicated names!” he stated. He then points to himself. “Mine is fast and easy!” 

When he halted, you stopped right where you were, turned around, and made eye contact with the fiend for the first time, or rather you just stood there, not knowing where or what his eyes were. What was this fiend getting at? Did he just splatter out whatever was on his goddamn mind?

“...Ain’t that so,” you said. Not knowing what else to say honestly. While you and Beam are stopped in place you survey your surroundings. This place is exactly as described, a small town, with grass fields that stretch for miles. And it’s very quiet. 

You're kind of hungry, you and Beam have passed by plenty of empty food stands but it was early, after all. Maybe one was open. Beam called out to you, breaking you from your thoughts. 

You turn your focus to him. “We’re almost there,” you said.

“Then why do we stop?” he asked. Beam wasn’t like other fiends, you can see that now. Just from basic things such as being able to hold a conversation and him following along, well, to a degree. 

“No rush,” you eased, placing your hand into your black blazer pockets. “I’m hungry. So I’m going to eat something first,” you explained. You wave for Beam to follow you, and he obediently does. 

The further the two of you walked, the more empty the streets felt. The silence brought a chill, but Beam seemed to be oblivious to the off-putting lack of sound. Regardless, you do find one stand about to open. You scanned the menu, they sold everything you would find at a coffee shop, but the stand had more charm than any Starbucks you’ve been to.

“Get me a large espresso,” you said after scanning the menu. 

The cute coffee stand was being run by a teenage boy, around 15-16 years of age. His shaggy chestnut hair was disheveled, and his matching eyes were antsy. You assumed he was just opening up the stand as everything wasn’t in order yet, and he was flustered when you began to order. His flusteredness was also probably due to the partially naked monstrous fiend standing next to you. 

Beam credulously admired the hollow surrounding as the boy stared in fear and confusion. You rested your elbow on the stand, devil-hunter badge held in front of the boy's face. “Ya got that?” you firmly repeated. 

He stuttered in response. “Y-Yes ma’am!” he fretted. He then began brewing up your drink while synchronously setting up shop. 

You turn back to Beam, your arms folded firmly underneath your chest. “Beam. Do you like coffee?” you asked.

Beam shimmered. “I think so?!” he exclaimed, now practically bouncing in excitement. He and caffeine perhaps wasn't a good idea mixed.

You purse your lips. “‘Kay,” you said. 

Your gaze slipped down to Beam's chest then to his defined abs. He didn’t seem to notice your stare, instead rambling about coffee or something like that. Beam had a good-looking body and he wasn’t shy about showing it, or he was just naïve to the fact that his body is attractive. He had no shame going out in public practically naked. 

You flip your gaze back to his face. “I’ll buy you that coffee if you put on my blazer,” you bargained. 

Beam responded in a heartbeat. “Your torso covering?” he questioned.

“Uh, ya?” That’s a weird way to describe a blazer. This must be what they meant by Beam's weird way of wording things. How did he know what a torso was and not a coffee? Now that surprised you. His wording kind of irked you, but it also kinda charmed you. 

“Just while we’re eating. People have been staring.” That was a lie as nobody was outside, you were the only one staring and you knew it, but come on, anybody would say the same thing! 

The fiend whined like a child, shoulders slouched. “But--” he began, but you interrupted, not willing to adjust your deal. You’ve heard enough tantrums in your life to see one coming. 

“Yes or no, only.” 

Beam pouted, almost painfully. His mouth opened and closed as he tried coming up with a retort. It was cute, the expression he made as he thought so hard. Though you weren’t one to back down. 

You glared back at the crabby fiend.

“BUT--I really really really despise torso coverings!” he whined. 

You almost start to laugh openly at this, but you bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud as Beam continues to protest. Seemingly not noticing your charmed conduct. 

“They’re uncomfortable!” he added, flaring his arms like a helicopter's blades. You never thought a fiend could actually be so...human. You never thought you would experience a certain joy in a fiend's presence. Beam had charmed you without you even trying.

“Oh really? No coffee then,” you shrugged, turning back to the coffee stand. The barista already placed your espresso down and only stood there awkwardly, watching you and Beam banter. You breezily grab your coffee and begin to pay, ignoring the feeling of Beam's gaze on your back.

Doesn’t take long for Beam to burst. “Fiiiiiiine!!” he grumbled, fists bunched and pout palpable.

Your gaze was down on the stand and…you smiled. Nobody saw it, not the barista or your partner. Hell, you neither. Though you could feel the serotonin inside. Beam truly was childish and quite dramatic. Can’t imagine him hurting anyone. This thought was wrong, you know you shouldn’t be underestimating a fiend, you know better than that. 

You scoff, grabbing your toasty espresso, the cardboard box warm in your hand. “Add on to my order a…affogato and two ham and cheese kolaches."

The boy's face was awed, and he nodded frantically. “Y-Y-Yes ma’am!!” before beginning the rest of your order quietly. 

You leaned against the stand and examined Beam’s demeanor. He stared back at you, oddly not saying a word for once. Beam instead, waited patiently for you to say what was on your mind, more patience than anyone else you know in your life. 

“Do you like human food, Beam?” 

He looked as if he was in thought, in a very cartoony way, holding his chin and looking up at the same sky as you. “Maybe? Do you like it?” 

The shuffling from behind you didn’t bother you, too focused on Beam. You squeezed yourself further as if you were hugging yourself. “Mhm.” 

 There was a silence that neither you nor Beam broke. The only sounds heard were the seagulls in the sky and the shuffling of the barista. The smell of fluffy bread and creamy coffee is what took over your nose. 

You stared up at the rich sky. Every day the sky held a different appearance as if you all were blessed with a new one each day; when in reality it was the same ole sky as yesterday. The same sky that witnessed your tears of anger, frustration, and utter chaos. But Beam, he didn’t see that. He couldn’t understand the misery behind your icy glare. He didn’t understand it. Does that mean he can’t see it? 

You rolled your shoulders. What with these sentimental thoughts? “Course I do. I’m a human after all,” you mocked.

Beam didn’t seem to have noticed your snappy comeback and moved the conversation. Reminding you why you're both in this small town. “When will we fight?” 

You respond shortly after. “After we eat.” Beam shoots you another question before you could even blink. 

“Who are we fighting?” he added to his initial question. 

You scrunch your nose. “A devil,” you said. 

“Where are we fighti-” he began to ask. 

“-Beam. Quit with the who, when, what, where, why, and ’sometimes’ how shit. You’ll see when we’re there,” you snapped, putting an end to his waterslide of questions. Goodness, he truly was a child.  

You begin to smoothly rub your temple as the barista places your order down, holding his hands. He looked bashfully at the ground, palms sweaty. “Y-Your order ma’am,” he notified, keeping a moderate distance.

You sighed. What's with kids being so bashful nowadays? “How much?” you asked, turning to face the boy all while digging through your wallet. Beam watched over your shoulder, sniffing your order. If he had a tail it'd be wagging right about now. 

The barista's brown eyes couldn't seem to stay in place or keep eye contact. His face was as steamy as the kolaches, his nervousness really did show. “2-2,050 yen…” he stated. 

Beam began to drool at the smell, literally, drool fell on the shoulder of your blazer. With a light shove, you put a stop to the sticky line of drool that was falling from Beam's mouth, all while shaking your head like an old man disappointingly looking at the youth of today, hell you felt like one.

You sighed again, passing the barista three thousand yen. Your hand faintly touched his, which in response startled him. “Here ya go, kid. Keep the change,” you said as you grabbed your order and passed Beams his affogato. “Let’s go Beam.” You then walked away from the warm booth, continuing your walk around the empty town. 

Beam followed, drink in hand. “I thank you also, kid!” 

It seemed as if the wind was trying to tip you over, stop you in your tracks or just blow you and Beam away. Your hair was about to give out to the harsh gust of winds, plus you were getting chilly now that you were missing your blazer. Beam, however, seemed unaffected by the current airflow, only focused on the cup of coffee in his hand. 

Your blazer was a tight fit on Beam's torso, but he didn’t seem that bothered. You sort of regretted your deal to buy him a coffee if he wore it since now you were fucking freezing! 

Beam instantaneously followed beside you, spilling coffee into his mouth, tongue out like a dog. “This is super tasty!” he noted aloud, licking the cream from his lips. 

You took a sip of your espresso as you watched Beam now chomp down a kolache in slight interest. “Hopefully it doesn’t keep you talking all day. And make sure not to waste any crumbs,” you warned. Hoping he didn’t stain your blazer, that’s a part of your work uniform, after all.

“Human food is so tasty!” he gushed. 

You turned your gaze to the side, a gust of wind passing by; you squinted your eyes. “Ain’t that so?” you replied half-heartedly. 

Man this town was suspicious, but there was still no devil in sight. It was now past noon and there were still no people outside. The only person you've seen was the boy from earlier setting up his stand further behind. Your mind could only come up with one or two possible stories on what happened to this modern ghost town. 

Beam however was ever no oblivious. “Yes, very much so! I give you my thanks, my buddy!” he stated. 

You didn’t give him a response and instead stopped in your tracks. 

All the trees swayed in havoc, and the sky was clearer than the ocean. The wind didn’t come to an end, it was exhilarating. Though this wasn’t ‘cause of any devil, tis’ all nature you’re observing. Nature can’t help but be affected and be put in the game of humans and devils.

Beam stopped in his tracks soon after you and stared at your paused side view, confusion littered on his face. The wind combed through his dark hair, messing it up more than it already was. 

He called out to you. You didn’t respond. 

The destructive wind was whispering to you in a familiar tone, a tone you damned. It warned you of what was going to happen, but with no specifics, as always. You didn’t look behind you, only forward. Your silence was making Beam discombobulated. 

However, you were to focus on the magnetic feeling you felt in your left hand, and without thinking, you opened your palms and at the speed of sound, a glassy trident bolted into your curled grasp.

The trident was as clear as the approaching water and was about twice your size long. It glistened as the glass it was composed of reflected the light: blood staining the three prongs.

Before Beam could react to the situation, he hears a harsh thump behind you two. Instinctively, you both turn around to find the barista boy fallen on the ground, three dark red holes through his torso. 

You close your eyes as you let out another sigh. “Good grief. Look who it is, Beam..” you stated, placing the heavy weight of your transparent trident on your shoulder. 

Beam pointed a finger at the boy. “Coffee guy! I didn’t even see him,” he blurted. You both stared down at the bleeding boy clinging on. 

“Me neither. Just thought it’d be best to send for my trident since we’re walking these suspiciously empty streets all by our lonesome.” 

Your free hand held the now warm coffee cup that the boy in front of you cooked up, walking closer to his fallen form. “This neighborhood, tis' a normally highly populated area. And it’s noon, somebody ought to be outside, odd how that stand was the only one open, eh?” 

You stopped and crouched down to his level. “You had a good thing going on with the coffee stand, fiend. Almost had me convinced.” Tis’ your first time coming across a fiend who lived a ‘normal’ life. Let’s say you’re intrigued. 

The fiend moved its long, brown mop of hair, exposing two iron fish fins attached to his left and right temple. There it is, the headpiece that makes it a fiend. Though honestly, you weren't here for a fiend. 

He stuttered in his response, just like before “G-G-Good things don't last forever, ma’am.” He coughed out blood, attempting to lift himself. 

You kick it fully onto the ground and trap it between the three prongs of your trident. “Where’s the Fish Devil? You’re one of its puppets, aren't cha?” you pushed. 

Beam voicelessly watched you interrogate the fiend, silent amazement in his eyes. The fiend clenched his teeth. He no longer looked like a nervous barista as he had believed before. He looked like the killer of this town. 

“J-Just die! None of this would have happened if you didn’t bring that fiend. If only I didn’t expose myself...to it," he jabbered, "If I kill you...they’ll let me continue to run my stand."

“The fish devil?” you surmised, but the fiend only growled at you, refusing to speak further. So you stand up from your crouch position. “You’re useless to me then,” you uttered, staring down at the young-looking fiend.

You took the last sip of your espresso. “Good coffee though." You pull the trident out of the ground with all your strength and swung it onto your shoulder, turning to Beam, back hunched. “Beam. Mind beating this fiend up for me, buddy?” you asked. 

Beam gleamed like a newly bloomed flower, stars in his eyes. He’s never been so impressed by a human. He never felt so flustered around one either. “A-Ah, of course, I can...for you buddy!” he raved. Beam's eagerness to please you wasn’t noticed as he passed you. 

You turned from the sight of the bloodied fiends and the glistening shark fiend. You threw your cup onto the dirt beside your foot, unleashing your free hand, you then reach your free hand into your pocket and pull out a cigarette. 

The cigarette stared back at you as you placed it between your lips, and lit it up. The commotion behind you doesn’t faze you, your mind is too focused on the pleasing feeling of smoke invading your lungs. 

You stared up at the sky. It was still blue and cloudless; you made a wish to the sky then. For things to never change, just like the skies' blue shade.

Before you knew it, you didn’t hear anything from behind you, and Beam was again beside you. You turned to him. He was covered in scratches and blood splattered all over him, though it didn’t seem to faze him. Hell, it seemed nothing fazed him. Beam turned to you and anticipatedly waited for you to say something. 

“Beam,” you said, an air of smoke escaping your lips as you said this. You look down at the opening of your blazer that Beam wore, where Beam's chest still showed. The idiot never buttoned it up. 

You raised your gaze back up to his face. “You got my fucking blazer bloody,” you barked, removing your cigarette from your mouth, leaving it between your index and middle finger. 

If Beam had animal ears, they’d be down. “S-So sorry..miss,” he mumbled, inexplicably stuttering. What’s with his change in behavior, he’s being all…submissive.

You glared at the fiend, transferring the trident weight on your shoulder. “What’s with the ‘miss’ now, eh?’ you questioned but shrugged it off. 

“Whatever, let’s continue searching for this devil,” you stated and you both continued walking the town in search of this devil, dead fiend behind ya. Beam, however, could never see you in the same light again after this occurrence. Hell, he didn’t ever want to.

Beam and you resumed your mission of locating the fish devil and figuring out the status of the missing residents of this town. You can confidently say that the people are dead and gone, swallowed and digested. Sometimes it’s just best to assume rather than cling to heterogeneous possibilities. 

The current atmosphere between you and Beam after the unknown fiend's appearance is apparent. Beam went silent after the ordeal. You went quiet also, though that wasn’t out of the ordinary for ya. However, just like a phone turning back on after getting charged, Beam was soon back to himself, repeatedly calling your name. 

“Mistress ______, mistress _____, mistress _____!” he repeated over and over again. 

You narrowed your eyes. God, he is weird. This must be what they meant by Beams' outlandish nicknames. Your shoulders were slouches from carrying the rod of a trident on them for so damn long. “Why d’ya keep calling me that?” you asked. He responded like a bat straight out of hell.

“‘Cause you are my mistress, Mistress _____!” he extolled, aimlessly following behind you. His response was very much vague, so you asked again. 

“Yeah. But why?” you reworded, hiding the frustration in your voice.

 “‘Cause you are my mistress, Mistress _____!” he replied. 

You stop in your tracks and glare at the fiend. He had to be fucking with you. He literally just repeated the same response as last time. Beam stopped behind you. “Yea,” you said. “But why exactly am I your mistress, Beam?” 

Beams didn't spontaneously respond. He held his chin. Looked down at the dirt road in thought before coming to a reply he thought you would like. “You are my mistress, Mistress _____…?” he mumbled. 

You shook your head to keep it from burning up. “Ne’er mind…” It was clear you were not getting anywhere with this. This fiend just repeated the same response over and over and it was obvious to you he was the one getting confused, true audacity. 

“Just stop callin’ me that. I’m not’cha mistress.” you clarified. 

He burst after you said that. “I am your servant, Mistress _____! Your strength has inspired me! So I will follow you!” he loudly and proudly declared. What a weirdo. 

“Mhm. Whatever you say Beam.” you dismissed his compliments. At least you thought they were compliments from him. 

“You are very strong, Mistress _____. How?” he asked, elated. 

You went silent for a moment. The devil you were contracted with. Why would a fiend care, you thought, beside this thought you answered Beam’s question, gazing at the setting sun. “

I have a contract with the Mermaid Devil.” 

Beam pushed for more, his interest piqued. “A contract? Contracts have conditions, what’re yours?” he further inquired. 

You sighed. The trident held on your shoulders felt heavy, a heavy reminder of your contract with the mermaid devil. If you wanted to be dramatic you’d say everything changed after you agreed to that perverted devil's contract. Beam notices your silence and empty eyes. 

“Mistress...?”

You remove your trident from your shoulders, digging the three spears into the dirt, residing it there before squatting down to rest for a bit, wondering about your next move. Are you going to avoid the question? Go silent on him and just continue this mission. Or are you really going to talk to him? 

“...You ever met the Mermaid Devil?” you asked, even though it wasn’t likely to be a yes. As you expected, he shook his head. You placed your elbow on your knee, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. 

“Don’t then. They’re disgusting,” you stated. You didn’t have many regrets, they held people back, but agreeing to that contract is a hair away from being one. “This trident was made by them using the shedding from its...scales,” you explained, eyes on the glossy trident, your face reflecting against it like a mirror. 

“Is that what makes them gross?” he asked you. 

You shook your head. “No. The trident is what binds the mermaid devil and me. It’s the source of power for our contract. What makes The mermaid devil so perverted starts with how it’s known to only do contracts with women. They have perverted envy. They do these contracts to remove their femininity. They enjoy that, it’s twisted stuff.” 

“And for my contract I…I doubt you’ll understand but...I agreed to give them all my eggs along with my monthly blood from my menstrual cycle. Haven’t had a period for around, hell, almost half decade.” 

Before you could think too much about it, you shook your head. “Eh, it could've been worse. I’ve heard stories of women who’ve lost their breasts and more.” 

Beam stood silent, processing the information you told him, you stayed silent, but your mind rambled. Why did you say all that? Why were you talking about something so personal with a fiend? You’re telling this fiend you just met something you never told anyone else. 

Maybe...you really did always want to tell someone. Hell, no one really asked. 

Your parents were ashamed you were a devil hunter in general, disgusted with all your actions, and avoided speaking to you. No one cared how all this shit bothered you. Yeah yeah, your parents never stopped mourning the death of your siblings, but for the love of fucking Christ you were there. You were mourning too. You didn’t need them shaming everything you did. All you needed was for someone to notice you were upset.

“This upsets you?” Beam asked. He didn’t fully understand what you were saying, but he could tell you were upset saying it. You, however, didn’t answer his question. Opting to not respond, because you didn’t know what to say. Out of everyone, he was the first to ask you if you were upset. Not if you needed a day off, or if you were moody; he asked if you were upset. It’s a shame he’s the first. 

Beam stared down at you, the sky setting behind him. “I get sad when you’re sad, Mistress _____!” he remarked, pointing at you. 

You rubbed your eye. “Heh, you get sad? I thought fiends couldn’t feel emotions like empathy." You scoffed. "Why would you feel bad for me anyway, we just met buddy.”

You stood up and dusted yourself off. Before you could reach for your trident, Beam shoved your blood-stained blazer into your arms, chest now exposed. “Because you’ve been so kind to me, Mistress _____. And I like you very much, and I don’t want to see you sad! Please be happy!“ 

This fiend...isn’t too bad. Hell, can’t say you hate him so that’s good enough. “Ha? You’re an odd one, buddy. Let’s head back to HQ. I don't see no devil.” 

And that was the beginning of a newfound friendship. The days seemed to go by in seconds. Sun came then went and the moon took its place. You settled nicely into your new routine with Beam. Every morning your buddy would be waiting for you at HQ. Honestly, you didn’t know if he lived there or if they dropped him off every morning. 

However, on this particular day. Beam wasn’t waiting for you like normally. A shift in the routine. Another thing that stood out was that Makima called you to speak privately. Your eyes subtly widen at her words to you. Though you attempted to act like yourself and nonchalant. 

“Beam needs to be relocated,” she stated, hands laced with one another. She stood in front of you as if she was towering over you. Her hypnotizingly beautiful eyes stared through you. 

You crossed your arms. “‘Kay? What does that have to do with me?” you retorted, leaning against your desk. "I know nothing about his living conditions."

She continued on with her statement, unfazed by your offensiveness. “And it’s best if he moves in with you,” she added, simply. 

You glared at her for a minute. What’s with Makima stacking things on your plate? You already accepted being a part of this experiment but this was going kind of fucking far if you say so yourself. 

“And why am I the first option?” you rightfully asked. “What’s the normal procedure when a fiend’s picked up anyway?” 

Makima leaned against your desk beside you. “Normally, they’re killed on the spot if they are out of control. However, in certain situations, there are ‘sane’ fiends who are well enough to be interviewed by psychologists.”

Right, you recall reading that file for Beam. 

Makima continued. “After successfully gathering the information sought, they either send them off to get experimented on or they’re killed based on how much chaos they caused before the interview.” 

Your eye twitches. “Where has Beam been stationed at?” 

Makima cups her chin. “He’s likely being watched over by the psychologist in his cell where he was interviewed.”

His cell? What the hell? Beam never told you anything about no cell. At the end of each day, he shimmers so happily as he waved you off. You wouldn’t have thought he had been going home to a cell when your time together ended. 

Makima watched your reaction. “Back to what I was saying earlier. It isn’t possible for Beam to be stationed there forever, and a decision needs to be made for his relocation,” she pushed. 

“As everything with you partnering with Beam has been good, I put up the suggestion of him moving in with you. In this case, you can watch Beam on a better level. Though, they’ll only agree if you’ll agree to it.” 

You stayed silent, lost in your thoughts and emotions. Makima side-eyes you, hand still squeezing your shoulder. “I would hate for all this to be for nothing,” she said. You both make eye contact. “You understand.”

You remove yourself from her side hug, stuffing your hand into your pocket. You felt odd. All warm and fuzzy. It genuinely...intimidated you. You waved her off. “Ahhhh fuck it. I gotcha’ Makima,” you said. 

Your appliance makes the woman smile and nod. “I’ll make sure you get the paperwork by the end of today,” she informed you, before lifting herself from your desk and making her way toward the exit. 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, great, great,” you murmured. 

So you’re gonna have to live with a fiend too? Man, they really are asking a lot out of ya. They must have some personal vendetta against ya. You should ask for a pay raise. You grumble your way to your desk and prepare yourself for the junkyard of paperwork you’re going to sign.

As anticipated, Beam was relocated with you a few weeks later. You would say it happened all so fast but it was truly a long wait. Mostly due to you informing your landlord about your roommate, and the HQ wanted to make sure you had your shit together and could watch over a fiend. 

A few days after the paperwork was signed and sent you informed your partner about his new living arrangements since no one else did. He was elated. And you’d be lying if you weren't a little intrigued. Intrigued by what living with Beam would be like. Hell, it’d probably be like having a child move in, or maybe a hyper dog, who knows? 

After giving Beam a tour of your apartment and the ground rules, Beam pointed something out. Something very important. Starting with your couch, it was quite dirty. Actually, the entirety of your apartment was pretty dirty and unkempt. Really unkempt.

So on your first day with your fiend roommate, you both cleaned and organized. Washing clothes, dishes, and dusty counters. Beam caught along rather fast. You were able to teach him how to clean things, but he wasn’t any good at organizing things. That didn’t matter to you anyhow. 

You were enjoying yourself. Even though you didn’t show it, Beam had a feeling you were having fun too. You never thought you’d have fun cleaning the house. Kinda reminds you of a time when you were a kid. 

Your older brother and younger sister had hated cleaning, and you hated it too, but one day during summer break your rooms were so filthy that your parents threatened your summer vacation if the chores were not done that day. So you and your sibling cleaned all day till your hands felt like rubber. It was fun just being with your siblings. Even if it was something as bland as cleaning, they always made things fun.

You swept the floor as Beam dusted the wall's silence. The thought of your family made you ask Beam a question, “You’ve ever been swimming, Beam?” you asked, sweeping the little particles of trash into one big pile.

Beam tilted his head from the other side of your apartment. “Like in the ocean. Ever seen the sea?” you elaborated. 

Beam halted his dusting, duster in hand. “No, not ever."

You chuckle, placing the broom against the wall. “That’s hella hilarious. You wear those wacky swim trunks all the time, plus you’re literally the shark fiend. It's a damn shame," you teased, pulling the oversized shirt you wore down to cover your thighs. 

Beam placed the duster down and sat on the couch, then rested his head on the armrest, watching you sweep. “Have you been, Mistress _____?” 

You shrugged. “Naturally. My parents used to take me and my siblings every summer and rent out a beach house and all that good stuff,” you said with a hint of a smile on your face. 

“Haven’t been back in, hell, a solid 20 years.” The last time your parents did that was when you were 8 years old. They didn’t follow the tradition the years after, as those were properly the hardest years of all your lives.

“Did you find it fun?” Beam asked, watching your every reaction. He was a good listener, a very good listener. He always made you feel like he wanted to hear whatever you said. 

You faintly smiled. “It was nice,” you whispered. You placed the broom in the corner of the room and sat next to Beam on the couch. “My brother used to always pull me and my sisters into the ocean, and…we’d play till our fingers were all wrinkly. The sun appeared to never go down, always seeming to set each time I checked. As if time wasn't passing.” 

Those were the good days. Good summer days. You can still feel the warmth of the sun from those days. The sun shined a little brighter than it does now. That’s perhaps the reason behind your fixation on the never-ending sky. 

Beam shoots you another question. “You were happy, Mistress?” he inquired. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I was happy,” you muttered. 

The apartment went into a void of silence. Neither you nor Beam picked up your cleaning equipment, deep down you still wanted to talk, and Beam had another question.

“Let’s go this summer,” you said suddenly, Beam stared confused. “This can be our little old tradition as buddies,” you suggested. 

You didn’t know what came over you as you wrapped your atm around Beam's shoulder. “Every summer we’ll rent out one of those fancy beach houses and swim till we can't no more. How bout that, Beam?” 

He nodded rapidly. “I am excited! Very excited, Mistress _____! I’m very happy to attend with you!” he jabbered, wrapping his arm around your shoulder also. You savored the feeling of your arm on his shoulders, and Beam savored the feeling of intimacy. 

“Me too, Beam. Let’s finish unpacking before we start planning.” 

Beam agreed and you both cleared your apartment. After cleaning for hours upon hours you both finally had time to relax together as roommates in a now-clean apartment.

You suggested a movie would be nice. Since the couch coverings were the last thing you and Beam washed for the night, you both made a fort on the floor in front of the TV. 

The movie you watched was some cliche American Christmas movie. Beam seemed to enjoy it. You stayed inside all night, in fear of the cold weather on the other side of your walls. You were able to convince Beam to wear a sweater for bed instead of half-naked. 

Beam was already fast asleep before the movie ended, innocently snuggling against your heart. You didn’t push him off, yell at him, or wake him up. Hell, you know the reason why. The reason is…that he’s all you have, and you’re all he has. Why would you push the only person who matters away? 

“I wonder...if you can ever understand how you make me feel, Beam,” you whispered, pulling his freezing body closer to yours, legs tangled together. And that arctic night, you both rested comfortably.

“Beam, how old are ya?” you asked at random. 

You peered at the darkish, aquamarine sky, walking beside Beam as per usual nowadays. It has been nearly a year following your partnership with him, and you had no idea how old he possibly was. 

It was perhaps a dumb question on your part as fiends are just immortal devils possessing human corpses who have no concept of being born into the world. You, however, asked despite the voice in the back of your mind calling you a fool since Beam would never.

Beam cartoonishly counted on his fingers, whispering to himself. You wait patiently and observe your surroundings. 

This part of Japan was small, a small number of people were out and about around this area, a few of them staring at the fiend next to you on the daily basis during your daily patrols of this area. 

Makima while back had given you and Beam this assignment of patrolling this area for any devil or fiend activity. So far there was nothing. All you both had documented was a few harsh storms that shook the town but that wasn't anything too abnormal. 

Their judgmental stares didn’t bother Beam supposedly. It had been a month since you were assigned to these parts so you both were not new to these parts now, so you had no reason to whip your devil hunters badge at every person who bothered you. 

You found this assignment quite useless since you and Beam's appearance was the only odd activity to the townsfolk.

The wind today was very dry and faint. Now that you pointed that out, the sky was quite greenish today too. Not the blue you’ve grown so accustomed to. An approaching cloud of debris also ushered closer, as if it were approaching these parts of town specifically. You shrugged it off as signs of one of those storms the townfolk stressed about.

Beam stopped counting. “I am older than you, Mistress!” he exclaimed.

 You let out a raspy chuckle. Really? You initially found that hard-ass bricks to believe. Beam looked as if he was in his early twenties. In spite of that, fiends are just humans whose corpses were possessed by devils, so it’s understandable that Beam is reportedly older than you. Besides, why would he lie about it anyway? 

You nodded, accepting his words as the truth. “Kay. When’s your birthday? We can celebrate it then if you remember,” you suggested offhandedly. 

He scratched his hair. “I don’t know my very age or birthday, but I am very certain I’m older than you!” he said. You guess that’s fair. 

“Mhm. My birthday was a little bit before I met you. It's coming up actually,” you murmured. Funny, that’s when you were made aware that you were partnering with a fiend. Initially, you were irritated at the idea, seeing it as foolishness. However, after your year with Beam, you think Makima was getting somewhere with her idea of fiends working with humans. You and Beam fought as a good pair, and yall results proved that. it’s just the cherry on top that you actually enjoy Beam’s company.

You suddenly come to a stop, Beam stops beside you. The weather was so dry and it exhausted you so you thought a little break from you and Beam's patrol of these parts wouldn’t be too troublesome. Leaning against the wall, you dig your hand into your pocket and remove the item residing inside. Beam stared at the sterling necklaces thingy in your hand.

“Oh right, I found this pendant thingy in some boxes when we cleaned the apartment,” you stated. The closed-shut silver pendent shimmered in your hand. Beam stood faithfully beside you, his dark hair blowing lightly with the breeze. Though it doesn’t bother him. 

“What is a pendant, mistress?” he asked, looking down at the locket in your hand. You tried thinking of an efficient definition for your partner but only ended up sighing, it’s better to just show him. 

“I don’t know how to dumb it down for ya,” you groaned while your hand flicked the pendant open, the pint-sized photo inside exposed. “But it has a picture of me in it. My brother gave it to me when we were kids. Honestly, I think he either found it or stole it from our mom. I just put this picture in though recently, the previous one was way outdated. It's a picture from when I was getting trained as a devil hunter.” 

You handed it to him and he observed the picture of yourself from a few years back. Beam smiled brightly at the photo, holding it in a tight grip.

“Mistress! You look very lovely!”

“Hold onto it for me,” you said, ignoring his offhanded praise. “I’m getting all worried that I'll lose it with how windy it suddenly is,” you thought aloud, before looking at Beam staring at the photo. 

You shook your head, rubbing something that flew into your eye from the wind that had picked up “I must be out of my mind to give it to you.” 

Beam shimmered at your request. “I promise to keep your precious pendant safe, Mistress _____!!” he declared, squeezing the pendent shut in his fist. 

You only waved him off dismissively and turned away. “Yeah yeah. I trust ya, Beam. Just try not to get it dirty then,” you nagged. 

You and Beam leaned against that concrete wall in a pleasant silence. Beam mooned over the pendant you had trusted him with while you checked your pockets for a cigarette. Once your treasure was drugged out, you pulled a stick out and placed it in between your lips. 

You sheltered the cigarette with your hand while the other held the metallic lighter. Right when you were going to light that sucker up, you noticed something. Something very quaint and startling. The wind had died down and the air had become possessed-still. You looked around, a chill slowly crawling up your spine. What's with the weather? 

The wind has changed drastically in a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, hell, however long. Your teacher…used to tell you about this eerie feeling he’s felt. The feeling of silence and peace in a devil hunter's mind. The calmness before a storm, before their death. 

"A...devil?" you wondered aloud. 

And just then you and Beam concurrently wince violently at the boom. You drop your cigarette. An ear-splitting roar similar to a freight train assaults your ears and before either of you could comprehend what in the hell is happening; a vigorous blast of wind unanticipatedly blows past both you and Beam, rating, excoriating, and skinning your skin sharply like chalk to a chalkboard. The pain was excruciating. 

Each speck of your body terribly throbbed, your clothing was torn left to right from the maleficent winds and your eyes were achingly shut, as if they were glued closed. 

Your mind couldn’t recognize what was happening to even fully be aware of the pain. Things just went from zero to a billion times that. Your hair instantaneously felt like a wig being yanked out of your scalp, wildly being pulled in every sort of direction. Instantly your mind flew to Beam. 

Where was he? Hell, where were you? 

This…storm was bursting with health. It was close to sending you into the sky. You dug your foot further into the ground, your arms covered to protect your head. Your ripped clothing flew everywhere, whipping your scarred skin in the process. You gritted your teeth, eyes still shut.

A devil had to be the cause of this...of this tornado. A Tornado Devil? You had never heard of such a manifestation. But perhaps...that's why Makima sent you here. Why just you? You and Beam alone couldn't handle a devil manifestation. Unless...this was your destined death? 

Where was Beam? 

You didn't have time to think further as your heart pumped rapidly. Boldly, you expanded your other hand to your right, the place you last saw Beam, you just needed to feel him. Your ears disregarded the faded sounds of screams, crashing buildings, and flying cars. 

Beam…was all that mattered. He was your priority. 

You reach further, touching nothingness upon nothingness until the feeling of skinned flesh touches you. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes further, using all your strength to harshly pull and then push him through the door of the building you and him were previously leaning against. You faintly heard a crash…and no longer felt his touch. 

Yet you felt relief.

Your legs buckle from the aggressive airstream and you fall onto the ground. The impact felt so much more painful with your already existing injuries. The wind did not stop, it never stopped. The madness around you did not end. And you felt a sense of calm, a sense of peace. Hell, you always knew you’d die, you didn’t know it’d feel so peaceful. You always thought death for you would be dreadful and lonely and mean nothing.

Though your partner is here with you to die. You don't want him to die though. He is the beauty behind this madness. 

Before you knew it, your mind was hazy, your body was strengthless, and all you wanted to do at that moment was sleep as the horror tornado of the devil passed the town without a second glance or any pity. 

Beams back ached and his throat felt like sandpaper. He opened his eyes to the sights around him. He’s in a convenience store, the place where you always bought your smoke sticks when he and you went on patrol in his area. The building was disheveled. The shelves were falling apart, barely standing, and a vast sound of snacks and drinks was spilled around what was left of the building. "What was that," he wondered. 

All Beam recalled were him and his mistress taking a break from work and he was admiring the silver chain you had given him to protect. At this thought he lifted his arm up and opened his still balled up fist, to find the pended inside, his hands bloodied. He turned left and then right before forward, there was a broken door. 

Beam stood up slowly but surely. He was pushed inside this building, seemingly by his mistress. Mistress… He couldn’t see you. 

He limped his way out of the destroyed store, stepping on glass shards, and back into the outside world, where he found you in front of the building, on the ground, faintly breathing, gasping for more air.

“M-Mistress _____! Tis’ really bad…” he babbled, steering towards you. 

You were in bad condition, even he can see that. 

You chuckle, tears of bliss falling down your beaten face, wounded heart, and dulling eyes. Things really do go from zero to a billion in seconds. Hell, can’t say you predicted this would be the day you died, but you’re surprised at the cause of your death. However, Beams is here, holding your scuffed body, tail between his legs. 

“Mistress _____! You are bleeding a lot. Y-You must stop that! Please stop bleeding…” he pleaded. 

Beam’s here to see you off, the only person who matters in this fucking world. The only one who stuck around. The pain in your lower abdomen stung like a bitch, like having a cut on your finger and putting hands sanitizer on it, only plus about a billion. Can’t particularly put it on a scale of one to ten as you’re too accustomed to pain, but this did hurt like a crashing motherfucking truck.

Disregarding the blood seeping down your face, you spoke. “Beam…” you gasped. Never had you felt more vulnerable, never had you let yourself be vulnerable in front of anyone. Beam watched you breathe shallowly, and the blood seeped down your face. 

The smell of your blood was intoxicating his mind, his cravings, and appetites, but also was tugging his heart, and also messing with his mind; confusing him. The blood soaking his hand wasn’t food, it was his mistress. His partner, his first buddy. How could he think about eating you when you’re like this? 

He sobbed, squeezing the pendant in his hand, wishing his thoughts and cravings would stop. Beam couldn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He’s never felt this way before, this amount of anguish and terror. Though when you grab his face, your coarse palm filling up with his salty tears, it makes him so happy. 

“You’ve given me so much joy, Beam. Consider this sacrifice…my thank you,” you said, not once breaking eye contact with him. Hell, wherever his eyes were, it didn’t matter, you just had this desire to stop those tears from coming from a place unknown and irrelevant to you. 

Since when did drawing breath seem so painful? It’s like you were breathing in harsh waves of wind, the waves crashing against one another within your lungs. You turn your head to the side, the jagged concrete scraping the back of your head. Behind Beam's blurry face, was something so blue, so familiar: the sky. 

The sky emptily stared down at you, and it spoke to you. 

You rolled your head back to its previous position, eye to eye with your partner. He didn’t move from your touch, he stayed as still as a statue; embracing this moment of you embracing him. 

“I don’t want you killing yourself over this or…whatever. I want you to learn so many things, and...to experience life before that. Don’t…worry Beam, when your time comes we’ll have so much to talk about.”

You smiled at him. If only he knew how many times he’s made you smile, you would never be able to thank him for that. Your last thought, your last idea: ‘I promise you’ll be taken care of…I made sure of that. Please see it for me, experience a wave of life for me, Beam.’ 

Your hand uncontrollably lets go of his face. The aloof limpness from your body felt unreal In his grasp. He bewilderedly stared at you. 

”Mistress…” 

Beam couldn’t understand, how could you just die? Why was it that easy? He shook his head, tears spilling with each shake.  

“I-I don’t understand. I apologize for not understanding. Please come back now...” he begged, but with no response. 

You never came back to him. Beam had lost you.  

With time your words dissolved, and Beam stuck them to his heart, deciding that he’ll walk all around this earth, through the pits of hell until he comes back to you. He knew his mistress wouldn’t stay away from him if they had a choice. He’ll come back to you then, like the loyal servant he is, staying jovial till that day comes. Wishing that you’d be able to see the place that made you so happy. 

Beam wished…he was at peace alongside you.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

[coriel-muroz]

How I play with NPCs, specifically in Vacation Hoods

I was asked by @heimlichbourger how I play with NPCs in my vacation hoods, and since it is a bit lengthy, I thought I would make a post.

Managing NPCs in vacation hood

To make vacation locals and tourists, and to control their number, you will need:

- argon's townie brick

- twojeff's Sim Blender

- Cyjon's NPC Maker Fix

- Cyjon's Fewer Tourists

You can find an explanation here:

https://modthesims.info/t/529698

Without these mods, you will always have a large number of locals and tourists, and none of the locals will be tourists.

For my approach, see below

Playing NPCs

Dangerous NPCs

In the Sims 2, there are a few NPCs which are never playable - Mrs. Crumplebottom, the Social Workers, etc. A list is available here:

You can interact with these NPCs in the way the game has intended, but don't make them selectable or move them in.

This post is focused on the ones that aren't considered dangerous.

If you play a hood for a long time, you end up with a lot of Sims. Limiting the number can be good for loading times and avoiding hitting the max number of Sims a Hood can handle (this was made very large with Nightlife, but still).

My approach

Recycling Sims

There are a lot of mods to limit how many NPCs are created - I won't list them here, but recommend you find and grab them.

Having started my Hood long ago, I didn't limit the creation of NPCs, so there are a lot of them.

My approach is that unless I choose to make one playable, then I recycle them.

What that looks like is Tosha Go has been a teenager forever and been friends with or dated Sims from multiple generations. That said, once the teen group she hung out with, but was never important enough to make a playable part of, ages to adult, I give her a makeover and now she's not the same person. Maybe she's Tosha's younger sister, her cousin, or eventually her own child.

I'm considering using Tabula Rasa on renaming Sims to officially reset them, but so far I haven't.

Making NPCs Playable

When an NPC does integrate themself into the story, particularly if they get pregnant/get someone pregnant, then I move them in and they become playable.

I might have someone invite them to move in, or just use the Visitor Controller to do it.

Playing Vacation Hoods

I treat Vacation Hoods like neighbourhoods. It's a bit complicated, but fun.

I have never managed to see vacationing Sims on vacation lots if they are not the active family, so when I have multiple families on vacation at the same time, I use the Visitor Controller to have them show up at the community lots or to visit each other's houses.

In the case of Sims like Archer and Marissa Hunt, who live full time in the Islands, I have a house in Huntsville where they live so I can age them. Otherwise, they spend their lives in the Vacation Hood.

So far, I have given them a prison token so they don't show up in the main hood, but I plan to assign them as locals to the Islands hood, while an NPC will live in their house as a placeholder until I get to their rotation.

Hope you found this helpful

[fostercare-expat]

Just an FYI that last night my daughter asked about how long Younger Brother would be staying with us, in from of him. (For context, he is 8 and she adores him.). He said back "I'm going back home in one month." I briefly explained that none of know exactly when he will go home, and that is the social workers decision based on mom's behaviour. He didn't have say anything and when I asked him how he would feel if he ends up staying with me for longer than a month, his response was "IDK". I asked him gently two more times that night, but same lack of interest response. He didn't seem visibly sad or upset, seemed more like it wasn't a big deal. Somehow this led to the topic of his biological father, and he said "None of us like him. He is angry at my mother. My mother says he was teaching us bad things, like illegal." I asked him what sort of illegal things, but he didn't seem to know. This then led to the topic of his mom’s boyfriend. He launched into a very detailed description of the night of domestic violence where Police showed up. I haven't heard about him talk about this before. He said that he was sleeping and he heard a loud noise that woke him and his siblings up. He opened the door to his bedroom and he saw his mom inside the toilet and she told him to call the Police so he called and he said "My mom is bleeding, please come." And the boyfriend left the house to go downstairs. When the Police and Ambulance came. The Ambulance people wrapped up his mom's head because it was bleeding in the back where her head hit the toilet bowl. The Police went to find the boyfriend and they told him not to come back to the house, but he did. (I wasn't sure if that meant he came back to the house that same night or just came back into their lives in general.) We talked about how no one should ever hurt another person, and how it is always wrong to intentionally give someone a bruise or make them bleed if they are an adult or even a child. I asked him that one day when he is an adult, would he ever hurt his girlfriend / boyfriend. Of course that sidetracked into him declaring “I’m not gay”. So I explained that often people don’t know if they are straight or gay until they are older than 8 years old. Didn’t tackle the bi option. Poor kiddo can only handle his mindset being opened a bit at a time.

He seems to have very clear memories of that night. I don't know any of the details of what happened, so I'm not sure if he has invented some of this (because I would be surprised if all 4 kids were awake and it was the 8 year old who made the call to the Police instead of his 2 older siblings). But it has clearly made a deep impression to see his mother bleeding and getting her head wrapped, to have the Police there and to hear the Police tell the boyfriend not to come back but he still has. I'm glad to hear him talking about it out loud as I'm sure that his helping him process this trauma. But I would still love to see him getting some counseling sessions if possible, individual or with his siblings or together with his mom, or maybe even with the boyfriend if he is willing to address his role as an abuser.

I’ll never understand how every single foster kid isn’t assigned a counsellor the minute the kid enter care.

[lixxen]

FNAF Security Breach Uniform Designs

For the last ten years I've been absolutely obsessed with FNAF. Lately I've been obsessed with the idea of what the Pizzaplex uniforms would be and how awful they probably would be (plus I wanted to cosplay a worker). So I decided to do a deep dive and create the most obnoxious uniforms ever.

I may actually make these very slowly and cosplay them at conventions. I was slightly inspired because of an artist on here does an xReader fic and I didn't see them in a specific uniform really, maybe besides a few accessories. So here we are. The most ugly FNAF uniforms you will ever see and I WILL expand to jackets and name tags on a later date.

(Explanations and designs UTC)

So, to preface I wanted to say that I am majoring in PR and social media management, so I have a little bit of an idea of how branding and marketing works. I've also have worn the most ugly uniforms in minimum wage jobs, so I do know that corporate companies do not care if they put their employees in the most ugly thing as long as it is on theme.

Things to consider:

What did uniforms for establishments in this category looked like over the years?

Are you doing specific uniforms for specific areas of the Pizzaplex?

What color pallets are branded to each character?

What aesthetic are you going for?

Establishments

For establishments, I chose Disney (theming being important and a big establishment that would hide skeletons) and Chuck E Cheese (animatronics and specifically the time frame). I did a deep dive on Chuck E Cheese and their uniforms in the 80-90's, which led me to doing a ton of Ebay and WorthPoint searching along with watching old taped birthdays from the 90's.

I personally believe that Fazbear Entertainment wouldn't stray from the bright and manufactured look that they have going and are very cheap, plus the glamrock phase was in the 70's. And companies tend to be very late to trends. So we can take these the fact that they would be ugly and bright uniforms that are severely outdated and put that together.

With this, you get something that looks like this (all being CEC besides the screencap of the movie trailer):

I used the idea that each area of the Pizzaplex would have its own uniform, much like Disney. So I assigned each of these uniforms a different animatronic's area (Roxy's Raceway, Mazercize, Superstar Daycare, Monsty's Wild Golf, and then for Freddy I did Rockstar Row). I did one general staff shirt, which is also very ugly.

Color Pallets

This was very simple. I just chose colors from the animatronics/their sign logos and then made a simple color pallet.

This process was easy enough and I made sure to give myself a few colors for some of the ones that had multiple shades or similar hues.

I didn't do Bonnie, only because he wasn't in the game. BUT, I do have a design in mind for him. And it is actually the least ugly one.

Uniforms

Each uniform comes with a polo and either a full cap or visor. You will wear them with either black or khaki colored pants or shorts, held up with a black belt. Black shoes. Then you will have a matching apron. The aprons I have not designed yet, so they will come with the others I am going to design.

Here are my ugly designs.

I hope y'all remember that they're supposed to be god awful and poorly drawn. I am not spending a ton of time perfecting them. I debated on putting the logo on the arms also, so that is an alternate design.

They're supposed to be ugly, not make sense other than theming, and just be obvious copy paste designs made just so they have a little bit of differentiating.

If anyone wants me to go deeper into it, I will. I'll make more shirts and make them even worse.

Please guys they're supposed to be poorly drawn and obnoxiously not good designs. I am using my shitty knowledge for bad

[your-dads-top]

I'm in a weird space right now

I've been thinking a lot about dropping out of teacher's college/my B.Ed program. I'm not happy with my fellow teacher candidates in my stream after an A.I. plagiarism incident (that my group members pulled for an assignment). If I was doing this when I was 22, maybe I would feel different and more energized, but at 30 I cannot handle these Zoomers and the way they want to cut corners. I hate the fact that my faculty liaison for any issues related to being gay and going into education as a field is an enby-identified lesbian and that the group there hates any sort of "negative" talk. As a gay man, I have valid concerns about what my place is going to be and how to navigate it. I can't relate to women in education, because they don't deal with the same risks.

I'm also not happy with the placements I've had. The first one was at a high school where both my associate teacher and her department head made an underhandedly homophobic comment about another teacher in the board. They were talking about a comment he made to the department head about how he would trust her to sub in his class (he's Franco-Ontarian, teaches French Immersion, and has high standards) and they brought up his husband for no goddamn reason. If you thought his comment was rude, fine (it wasn't rude). But what the hell did his husband have to do with it?

On the same placement, I also dealt with my associate teacher being passive aggressive as hell. She would not explain to me the logic of her grading process. At first, when we came to a disagreement, she would say my way was "interesting" so I would just defer to her and try to understand her criteria (which was entirely vague and seemed to just be based off of feelings). By the last week of the placement, I would ask her how she wanted to grade certain assignments (so I can't help you) and she would fuck off for 30-40 minutes during the prep saying she was in the bathroom.

On this second placement, I felt the need to call Children's Aid because a kid was threatening to kill herself and cut herself. She had also said that her father was unjustly punishing her for things and getting randomly angry. I was able to get my associate teacher to take her to the office while I tried to make the call. He and the principal are now pissed at me for doing it because I should have followed the internal rules (that no one fucking told me). I went by how i was taught by the faculty. We had it reinforced to us to make these calls, otherwise our future licencing will be on the line. Oh, and despite me telling the case worker I wanted to be anonymous, they (teacher and principal) told the kid's father.

I'm just exhausted. I don't feel like I can go to the local gay bar because they decided in taking over the 'queer' bar that they would have go-go boys. Good for them, but it means the space is off limits for me due to the potential for cameras (both official for the bar as well as random people's social media). I've had to pull my face picture off of Scruff, too. I have no means of connecting with other gay men and I'm left feeling drained.

I've sacrificed so many years of my life to get to this point just so I have the opportunity to be in a place where I'm making enough money to live on my own and actually have any shot at life. The thing is, I regret it.

I'm in debt, most part-time jobs have no interest in hiring me because of my schedule even outside of placement, I'm completely demoralized, and I just want to die

I don't remember writing "I just want to die." I had just gone back to add something in, but fuck me if that isn't the truth right now. I hate being in a position where I'm at the behest of other people. I miss being in positions of independence and control.

Part of me wants to fail just so I have an excuse to leave, find work, pay off my debt, and move out. But not completing this program means that my current plans for grad school in the future will also shoot me in the foot because it will make me overqualified in most people's eyes. I hate that it took me until my late 20s to find something that I'm passionate about and I hate even more that it's something that is only considered valuable in this one context.