#the second one lacked personality so i have him a grilled cheese secondary and had him as the main guy on a bachelor challenge

[lulousims]

It's been officially longer than a year since I last posted gameplay pics...

For the most part of 2022, I couldn't play The Sims because I shared a computer and we couldn't agree on it. Then I played it for like, 2 months (in 2023!) on my bf's computer, but I couldn't take any screenshots 😭 And now, since October of 2023, I've been in England working as a volunteer, with no access to a personal computer. My friend was kind enough to lend me his laptop a few weeks ago so that I could finally play a bit, but it's not ideal because, well, it's his, and he needs it for work outside of the volunteering. I might be able to get my hands on a new laptop soon though (!!!!!!), and I'm really excited about finally being able to remove the "hiatus" from my bio! Or at least replace it with "semi hiatus", you know lol

I obviously won't be able to even remember what's gone on in my households, but at least I'll be back to playing once every few weeks and documenting my stuff. If everything works out, I should be here in one or two weeks, posting unedited screenshots of my game, like I used to, and getting 2 to 5 likes on each post <3 Just how I like it!

[imnotcreativeenoughtomakegoodurl]

Dean X cop! Reader: Soulmate AU - Part 1

Genre: Dean X Reader, fluff (??), soulmate AU, slight angst/whump (if you squint)

Warnings: Description of injury/blood (let me know if I missed any) Summary: 

Summary: This is based on the soulmate AU where any unnatural markings or blemishes (cuts, bruises, stains, marker, ect…) on your body will show up on your soulmate’s body. You got the short straw with whoever your soulmate was-This crazy bastard was always getting the holy hell beat out of him. Waking up in the dead of night feeling like a truck had just run you over went from terrifying to extremely annoying as time went on, but you always did your best to stay safe after one of those nights. However, being a homicide detective, “safe” wasn’t a word you got to use often.

          “Back again?” The doctor asked, flipping through the clipboard Janice had left on the door. 

          “Don’t worry Dan, Janice has already patched me up and just wanted you to check me over before discharge in case this is anything like last time.” You explained, casually rolling up your shirt to show Dan your several bruised ribs and what once was a deep gash in your side. 

          You were in and out of the hospital so often that you were on a first-name basis with the majority of the staff and even friends with several. It was almost routine for you to walk- or even be carried in at least once a week with an assortment of bruises, open wounds and the occasional broken bone. They often joked that once you met your soulmate they would thank him or her for giving them such a dedicated customer, that is if your soulmate didn’t get themselves or you killed anytime soon. There have been several times when your soulmate must’ve made the choice to fight a bear or something because more than once, you’ve come in half dead. 

          "Looks all good to me, (Y/N)," Dan said and you rolled your shirt back down. 

          He signed your discharge form while you gingerly slipped on your coat and detective badge. Dan indiscreetly watched the detective badge glinting on your belt disapprovingly as he walked you to the front desk. 

          "Hey, you gave me the all-clear, doc. Besides, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” You said as you slid the paper across to the desk for Oliver to look over. 

          “Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work? Right now, today? I mean, I discharged you but that doesn’t mean you should pass up some bed rest.” Dan advises. 

          “I really don’t think there’s a point, Doctor.” Oliver sighs, handing you back some papers. 

          “I’m sorry but, Oliver’s right, Dan.” You feign an over apologetic tone, slipping the papers into your bag while walking backwards “There’s been more of those creepy homicides and the PD needs all hands on deck. There’s nothing I can do.” 

          “Oh, that’s bull and we all know it.” Oliver calls out, making Dan snort. 

          “Hey, whose side are you on, Oliver?” You demand. But halfway out the door you turn back and joke “Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful. My soulmate really doesn’t need another injury!” 

          When you make it to the precinct no one needs to ask why you’re late. Your soulmate problems are a well-known routine here as well. You slide into your desk but before you can even begin to crack the surface of the mountain of files before you, your secondary rushes over, brimming with enthusiasm. 

          “So primary, what’s the plan for today? Check-in at the crime scene? Take a look at those corpses firsthand? Interview suspects? Well, I suppose we should properly look over the security footage we just got-“ 

          You have to grab Natasha's arm to get her to stop bouncing around. “Let’s tackle one question at a time. I know this is your first homicide case as a detective and it’s starting to get pretty damn interesting, but we need to keep our heads clear.” 

            You look Natasha in the eye and half expect to see her pupils vibrating out of excitement. When they don’t and she just nods so hard that her blonde ponytail almost flops over her head, you sit her down and continue; “So, what do we know about the killer, Palmer?”

          You’ve barely finished your question before Natasha starts chattering away “Again, you can just call me Tasha, I’m not big on formalities. It’s so weird y’know-“ 

          “Tasha?” 

          “Right, the killer. They first struck a week ago and killed Patricia Davids and Brian Lee We know their MO is to kill a man and a woman within twenty-four hours by stabbing the victim’s brain through the eye sockets. The man and woman are usually involved romantically in some way, so we’re thinking that the motivation is love and the killer is someone with a vendetta against romance. Have you found out anything else on this lead?” 

          And once again, before you can respond Natasha gets sidetracked "This works so well! This whole call and response thing where we bounce clues around is never something I got to do as a cop! I-“ 

          “Well I’m glad you enjoy this tactic, Tasha, but it’d kind of dead in the water if only you get to respond.” You explain, feeling slightly guilty when she sagged a little at getting shut down for the second time. 

           You leaned in conspiratorially and as expected, Tasha’s excitement came flooding back as she leaned in to listen like a schoolgirl being let in on a secret “I went and checked out each victim's itineraries leading up to the homicides and got a connection: The last time each couple was seen together was at Vicci’s Diner. I was thinkin-“ 

          “What’s so special about Vicci’s Diner?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind you. 

          Slightly ticked at the fact that more reporters wanted info on the murders, you put on your best passive-aggressive smile and turned. 

          Two men you guessed to be in their early to mid-thirties, wearing layered overclothes and muted colours looked down at you. The taller one had a longer hair and slouched a little, almost like he didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his height. The shorter one had green eyes that were fixed on Natasha and you could’ve sensed from miles away that he was about to hit on her. 

          “I’m Sam, this is Dean.” The taller one introduces “We’d like to ask some questions about the Davids and Lee case.” 

          “I’m sorry, but as I’ve told the several other reporters; we’ve already had all the information we’re allowed to disclose published so you can go and check that source.” You said through a gritted smile before turning your back on them. 

          “Well, can’t you tell us again? We want to hear it straight from the source.” Dean says a little too automatically, giving away that they had coaxed info out of people one too many times. 

          “What was the crime scene like?” Sam asks, hot on Dean’s tail “Did it maybe smell odd? Did things not add up? Any weird patterns?” 

          Tasha opens her mouth eagerly to answer but you didn't trust Sam's bizarre questioning and their rundown attire showed that they weren’t reporting for anything too serious. 

          “Well it’s a murder scene so things did smell a bit fishy and if things added up we would’ve found the killer- I’m sorry but I didn’t catch what news publishers you were reporting for.” You pointed out, watching the men’s eyes meet and Dean crosses his arms across his chest to seem more authoritarian as he prepares to deliver what you know is going to be a lie. 

          “Who’s the primary?” Sam asks, now addressing the two of you and dodging the question. 

          “Oh, it's not me.” Tasha answers placing her hands proudly on your shoulders from behind “It’s detective (Y/N) (L/N).” 

          Dean looks almost surprised, as most people do when they find out that someone like you is a high-ranking detective. For some reason, it ticked you off more when Dean didn’t think that you were one to solve double homicides than it did anyone else. 

          Great now the lack of sleep from bleeding all night was making you seek approval from a total stranger. 

          “Damn okay, I was expecting your pretty lookn’ partner to bee the primary but I can see how you could’ve fought your way to the top.” Dean smoothly dishes out a compliment with a smirk and once again you can tell that this is something he did often. 

          Sam elbows Dean and resumes the one-sided questioning “Could you tell us something about Vicci’s Diner maybe? Has anything like this ever happened before in this city?” You sigh and stand up from your desk. 

          Placing a hand on each of their backs you turn the boys around and guide them to the exit “Vicci’s Diner is a really nice place downtown that had some great soup and occasionally carters to the homeless. Personally, I would recommend their grilled cheese and I would also like to work on the case so I actually have some new information to give you ‘reporters’.” 

          You gently nudge them out the precinct doors and scribble your address and number onto a scrap piece of paper “Now I don’t know who you guy actually work for but if you really are that desperate for a firsthand account swing by at night and you guys can help me finish my pie while we talk.” 

          The door closes in the Winchester’s face and you hurry back to your desk, massaging your temples.

           Did I really just give two complete strangers my address? God, what is wrong with me today? 

          Outside the precinct, Dean memorizes (Y/N)’s address before pocketing it. “Quit pacing Sammy, we got an address, it’s fine.” 

          “Yeah, we know where there’s a connection, but the detective didn’t give us any clues on whether or not it’s supernatural.” Sam opens the Impala doors and awkwardly clambers in. “Maybe we would’ve if you didn’t scare (Y/N) off with your questions. You might as well have been screaming “hey do you think a ghost killed those lovebirds?’” 

           Dean starts the engine and the loud banging of a drum solo fills the car. Sam can barely hear Dean when he waves the address in his face and says triumphantly “And I wasn’t talking about the diner’s address; I just got the address of a cute cop who just invited me over for pie because I gave one compliment. What do you think I could get if I bought them a couple of drinks?"

          "A restraining order," Sam mutters as the car takes off. 

          The break room in your precinct had been transformed in the last few hours into a mess of loose papers and gruesome pictures connected by thread beautiful mind style. The cuff of your shirt was indefinitely stained with dry erase marker from the frustrated wiping blank of the whiteboard every time a lead didn’t pan out. 

          You took a swig of room temperature coffee as you reread the ME’s report but the words seemed to have lost all meaning in the 2AM stupor you were currently swimming in. You absent-mindedly run your hands over the puckered line on your skin where your soulmate’s gash had been patched up in your stress and sigh deeply. 

          “What are you still doing here?” One of the night shift detectives asked, poking their head through the crack in the breakroom door “Go home, you look like a mess- and so does your workspace.” 

          “Thanks, Nosellla.” You snap, picking your way across the cluttered room to shut the door and other distractions out. 

          Nosella wasn’t wrong though; you had bitten your nailbeds into raw oblivion and had to band-aid a few fingers. Your hair stuck up at the front and became an impenetrable net at the back from all the times you had run fingers through it and you didn’t even need a mirror to know that you had some killer bags under your bloodshot eyes. 

          Between your soulmate’s antics and this impossible case, you would be lucky to have gotten twelve hours of sleep in the last week. Maybe it was the stress or sleep deprivation or just delusions in general but you rolled up your sleeve and stood by the sink with a washable marker. 

          When you were a kid, you and your soulmate would hold little conversations by writing messages on your arm for the other to see and washing it off to leave room for a response. 

          You wouldn’t be surprised if you were called in to do a psych eval tomorrow for leaning over a running sink with a red marked poised against your forearm. The mess around you must not help your case either but what the hell-you were desperate. The paranoia sent you down a spiral of wondering if your soulmate- one of the only sure things in your life right now- was out there and alive. He had stopped responding when the beatings started getting really bad and you hadn’t “talked” in decades. 

          “Hey guess who?” you scribbled and instantly dunked your arm under the water like one would toss away a phone after sending a risqué text. 

           “I was starting to think that you’d disappeared until it felt like someone was trying to rip off my fingernails today. Are you okay?” 

          Your heart soared and you let out a breath you’ve been holding since the marker first touched your skin. 

           You washed off his black ink and wrote in place: “I’m fine, just stressed. Since I have you “talking” I have a question for you actually.” 

          "Shoot," He wrote 

          “I know you wouldn’t tell me when we were kids because you said it was dangerous but we’ve both gotta be adults now, right? I mean you wouldn’t even want to get close to me as we grew up because apparently any connection at all could be dangerous. I kinda want to know who on earth my soulmate is yknow. All I know is that you’re an adult male who has a habit of getting the shit beat out of them. I want to meet you one day, hopefully soon?”

          It takes him much longer to respond this time and the letters appear haltingly, without the usual ‘no looking back’ penmanship that you were used to. “Listen meeting my soulmate sounds great but look at the hell I’m putting you through without even meeting you. I could never put you through what I have to do every day and people who I talk to have a habit of getting hurt.” 

          Your heart clenches for him but you must resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I already go through everything you go through if that hasn’t toughened me up then my job certainly has. If what you go through is hell than what kind of soulmate am I to just stand here and live in blissful ignorance?” 

          You can feel that he’s pressing the pen harder into his skin as he rushes to finish his statement in his annoyance “It’s complicated, what do you think this is a fairy tale? You can’t just rush into my life like a knight in shining armour and expect to come out in one piece.” 

          Your phone pings and you check it one-handed as you run your other arm under the tap. The stakeout crew that you had stationed by Vicci’s with Tasha had just texted you about a suspicious car that had parked across the street behind the diner but stayed stationary with the engine idling and no one entering or exiting. 

           “Haha, yes!!” You exclaim out loud at the news of a concrete lead and possible suspects. 

          You quickly text the team to take photo evidence but not to engage until you got there and end the unfulfilling conversation with your still nameless soulmate: “I’m still here aren’t I? Trust me when I say I do have field experience with getting near-fatal injuries. Speaking of my job, duty calls but please consider trusting me. We are soulmates and I’d hate for you to actually die one day without me even knowing your name.”

          “Who said anything about me dying?” 

          “Call it gut instinct.” 

          Under a shadowed overpass you tap on the window of the stakeout car and it whirs down to reveal Tasha’s always grinning face. “You took long enough, (Y/N).” She whispers. 

           “Sorry.” You apologize glancing around for eavesdroppers before continuing: “ So what’s the deal?” 

          “Well, they know what they’re doing.” Tasha says with an edge to her whispers “They parked somewhere dark so we couldn’t really get their profiles or see what kind of guns they pulled out of their trunk. But it looked like this wasn’t their first time going into a dinner heavily armed.”

           “Good to know.” You say, eyeing the suddenly sinister diner “Tasha vest on and with me. We’ll go in and split up and you two be ready to call for backup on my call.” You order the team in the car. 

           You slip on the familiar weight of your Kevlar vest and draw your firearm. Tasha grins at you and gives you a manicured thumbs up and you smile tensely and nod. 

          This could be the day you make the biggest break of your career, but despite this, you think back to your soulmate. You think of the hell he refuses to put you through, wherever he is right now, while you’re hunting down a pair of potential serial killers, and you change your mind. This could be the day you prove to your soulmate that you have the balls to walk through hell with him. 

          It’s now or never; You quietly push aside the yellow tape barring off the retro diner door and step into the dark reception area. You almost gasp when your eyes adjust to the dark and see an enormous silhouette no more than a few feet from the nearest booth. You barely have time to load your gun when: 

          “SAM DOWN!” 

          A click, a flash and a bang and you’re blown off your feet as the shot hits you square in the chest.

[rynne311]

A Guardian Angel

Request: you know what i need? a story that takes place after under the red hood in which jason is lonely and all that after what happened with bruce and he rescues a young 14 year old homeless girl from an older creep. they meet again a couple times and when he finds out she's homeless and lonely just like him,he decides to let her live with him. i imagine their relationship somewhat similiar to hopper and eleven's in s2 of stranger things. (This isn’t my request but I liked it and thought u do good )

BONUS: the girl has sexual identity issues and jason helps her get through it.

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: 1401

Requests are Open HERE.

A/N: Full disclosure, I didn’t watch s2 of Stranger Things so as far as that goes, I just kinda winged it.  I made it through the first season, but it just never clicked for me so when the second season came around I just had no desire to watch it.

I also could not figure out a good way to come at the bonus part of the request, so I didn’t do that part, sorry!

When you’re on your own, every creep seems to take that as an invitation, no matter how tough you tried to make yourself.  Most nights, you’d manage to find a safe enough spot to get some sleep, but tonight was not one of those nights.

This middle aged creep who reeked of cheap booze had been following you around since he first spotted you this morning.  No matter what you did, you couldn't shake him.  Sure this seemed to happen every once in a while, but it never made it any less nerve-wracking.  You just hoped Red Hood would show up to help you again.  Most nights like tonight he seemed to be your guardian angel, and you prayed he was watching over you tonight.

Night was beginning to fall and you knew whatever safety you had was quickly disappearing.  You needed to find someplace the drunkard would at least struggle to get to you.  You were hungry, but that was secondary to physical safety.  Peering down an alleyway to see if it would be a suitable place to hide for at least a few hours, you were yanked backwards with your mouth covered.  You couldn’t scream, but you could struggle.

You tried with all your might to fight back, but you hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and that was hindering you.  You knew no matter what this creep was going to overpower you, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

You could smell the cheap booze as he breathed down your neck.  You just wanted to get out of his hold.  You thought you might be getting your break when the creep threw you down onto the ground.  Hearing the click of a gun being cocked, you thought your fate was sealed and just waited for the end to come.  You were speechless to find that Red Hood had swooped in to save you yet again.  You were so dazed from the experience you didn’t register him asking you to come with him for a safe place for the night until he repeated himself.

“Hot meal and a bed.  That’s all you need to say yes to,” Red Hood coaxed.

You wanted to trust him; he had just saved your life, again.  You were used to people only doing something good for you in order to get something from you in return.  So far he hadn’t wanted anything from you any other time he’d come to your aid.

Hesitantly, you asked, “Could I take a shower too?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “You can take a shower too.  I think we’ll both sleep better knowing you’re safe. C’mon, I’ll show you the way.”

Silently you followed him back to his apartment.  Before you could get in the shower, he grabbed some extra clothes for you use, explaining that he would wash yours overnight.  You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to take a warm shower, but you relished every minute of it.  Stepping out of the shower, you could smell the hot meal you were promised.  Quickly, you changed into your borrowed clothes and made your way to the kitchen.  You were stunned to see Red Hood standing there in the kitchen in regular clothes and without a mask.  You didn’t know he was that handsome.  You had thought that part of the reason he wore the helmet was because of some sort of disfigurement, not to avoid it.

“I don’t know what you like. Figured I couldn’t go wrong with grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he explained, placing the plates in front of you.

You didn’t care that you could see steam coming off the food, you were so hungry it didn’t matter if you burnt your mouth or not.

“Whoa, whoa slow down a bit,” he said. “I can make you more, it’s not going anywhere.”

You felt the blood rush to your face.  You were so used to fending for yourself, that your manners were lacking.  Normally, if you didn’t scarf down your food, someone else would.

Sensing your embarrassment, he tried to relate with you. “I’ve been on the streets too.  I was a kid when Batman took me in, and trust me, for a long time I scarfed down any piece of food placed in front of me.”

He was relieved to see you visibly relax and even happier to see a small smile make its way onto your face.  He wanted to be someone you could trust and not have to worry about hurting you.  He knew he was going to have to show you that he trusted you in order to gain your full trust.  Going out on a limb, he said, “My real name’s Jason, by the way.”

Taking a moment to finish your bite of food, you finally spoke up, “I like that. I’m Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, it’s nice to finally officially meet you,” he said.  Nobody has ever been happy to meet or see you.   You thought that was just some tale some of the other street kids would tell about regular people.

You continued to watch Jason as you finished your food.  He could tell you were wary about being here; it was a very vulnerable position you were in. Looking to calm your nerves a bit, he explained, “I brought you here because you seem like a nice kid and almost every night I’m fending off some creep trying to get at you while you sleep in an alley.  Nights like tonight, they just don’t wait for you to be asleep first.

“If you’re here, then that’s one less worry I have when I go out there.  You remind me of me, Y/N, and I want to know that you’re safe.  Look, you can leave here whenever you want, but there will always be a bed and a hot meal waiting for you whenever you want it.”

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, but you felt the tears streaming down your face.  You didn’t know it was every night that some creep decided you were going to be whatever he wanted for the night, you thought that it was only once in a while that it would happen.  The love in what Jason had told you and offered to you with no apparent ulterior motive made you realize maybe you didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“What do I need to do if I want to stay here permanently?” you asked, voice laced with hesitation.

“Just say the word,” he responded, his own smile growing. “But I do think you may need to get some rest, here let me show you where you can sleep.  My bedroom is across the hall if you decide you need anything.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you fell asleep so fast, or slept so well.  You woke up to the smell of another hot meal.  When you opened the door to the room you’d been lent for the night, you found your clothes clean and neatly folded right outside the door.  Nobody had ever gone so far out of their way to respect your personal space before.

Breakfast was waiting on the table when you finally emerged.  You sat and ate silently, though this time you actually took your time with your food.  You knew you wanted to stay, it just felt right here, and you hoped that Jason meant it when he said all you needed to do was ask if you wanted to make this your permanent home.

“So all I really have to do to stay here is just tell you that I want to?” You asked.  “No one ever does something nice without wanting something in return.”

“That’s exactly right,” he confirmed. “I told you, Y/N, you remind me of me.  I’m just giving you what I wanted and needed when I was in your spot.  Come to think of it, the one thing you can do is come to the store with me and pick out some stuff to help make you feel more at home here.”

Maybe someday you’ll be able to do the same thing Jason’s doing for you and help some other street kid.  For now, you were happy to have a home and be away from those creeps who had always tried to prey on you.  It seemed Red Hood really was your guardian angel.