#they’re so expansive now we rarely have it :(

[spineless-lobster]

I fucking love flying fish they’re so cool, that girl can swim AND glide

[yuwuta]

CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF (I MEAN I COULD, BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO?) — JJK BOYS + TOO HOT

featuring. gojo, okkotsu, choso, itadori, fushiguro

content, warnings. playing too hot with the jjk boys—(too hot is a party game in which two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves; the first person to touch their partner loses), making out, tongue sucking, uhhh slight predator/prey in yuuta’s oops, they’re a bunch of losers to be honest, there’s a word for the thing yuuji does but i don't know it lolol

word count. 1.6k

SATORU GOJO Satoru is prideful, but you also know that he is nothing if not handsy, borderline clingy on his worst days. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, he’s rarely not touching you when you’re in his proximity, and when you aren’t, he closes that gap—so you’re confident that he’ll lose this game. 

And he does. It takes ninety-two seconds for Satoru to put his hands on you; his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue. You yelp in surprise, try to take in your victory, taunt that you’ve won, but Satoru’s playing an entirely different game now. “I know, I lost,” he pushes his thumbs at the corners of your mouth, parting your lips and staring at your open mouth. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, drinks in your pliant expression, the soft touch of your fingers around his wrists, the feel of your body sinking below him, and he smiles, “But I want something else right now. Indulge me?” 

You tap at his right wrist and he moves his thumbs away from your lips, stroking against the soft skin of your cheeks instead so you can speak, “You lost, you’re not supposed to make demands.” 

“Take pity on a rookie like me, won’t you?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to kiss your cheek, then closer, just below your bottom lip, “Please, sweets?” 

“Depends on what you want,” you pout, but your words are strained against Satoru’s kisses. He grins, guiding a thumb back to your lips, this time pressing past the barrier of your lips until they’re wrapped around his digit, smile turning cheshire when he feels you sucking, “I have a different game we can play instead.” 

YUUTA OKKOTSU ��Ah, ah—” you pull away from Yuuta, much to his dismay, pulling the hem of your shirt from his grasp, “That counts as touching. You’re not supposed to touch, Yuuta.” 

He’s looking at you intensely, gaze bordering on predatory, slow blinking with blown-out pupils. He nods shallowly, moving his hand from where it was to your side, palm pressing into the couch next to your thigh; it lets him that much closer to you, the tip of his nose grazing yours, you can feel his laborious breaths tickle your lips. Yuuta tilts his head ever so slightly and pauses, blinks, waits—for you to make a sound, for you to tell him no again, for you to run. 

You don’t. He shifts his weight and positions his other hand to rest at your side, caging you between his arms, slotting you underneath his gaze. You curl underneath him, backing up until you’re pressed against the arm of the couch, until Yuuta’s crawled to slot his knee between your legs. You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him. He dips his head into your collarbone, leaves a deceptively soft kiss there before nosing up the expanse of your exposed skin and sinking his teeth into your neck. 

Yuuta feels you tense underneath him, body going rigid in a moment of surprise, and then slacking with an exhaled moan, like a bitten bunny. Reflexively, your hands find purchase in his hair, and Yuuta nips over the tender skin, and smiles, “Caught you.” 

CHOSO KAMO “You’re nervous,” you conclude, pulling away from the shallow kiss Choso gave you. 

Beside you, he’s flushed, a hand coming up to reach at the back of his neck as he replies, “I don’t know why,” he exhales, “It’s just... weird to not touch you. I have to think about not touching you, and that means I have to think, which tends to make me, you know... nervous.” 

You giggle, leaning in closer to him, careful not to touch; careful to keep your hips raised above his, even as you straddle him, keep your arms and hands at your sides even though the instinct is to wrap them around Choso’s neck. He doesn’t pull back, even though he should; you like that he doesn’t. “You don’t like to think about me?” 

“No—no! Not like that,” he’s too loud for the proximity, sighing in embarrassment shortly after; you’re too close, way too close, and he’s not supposed to touch, but he wants to—Choso doesn’t like this feeling of restraint, of constriction; it’s too close to when he had a hopeless crush on you, to when he was pining and praying you’d spare him the time of day. Isn’t the point of dating that he gets to have you? To touch you, to hold you—to not hold back? 

“Because I like to think about you,” you admit, leaning in even closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Choso’s neck—and he whines, “I think about you a lot, Choso.” 

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear. Choso’s certain he’s going to rip a hole in his jeans with how taut he’s pulling them between his fists. This isn’t fair—nothing about this is fair. “I don’t want to play anymore,” Choso whines, eyes screwing shut when you suck a hickey onto his collar.

“But we’ve only just started,” you giggle against his skin, “And nobody’s won yet.”

Choso bites his lips, his knuckles are sore, his resolve is weak, and you smell good, you feel good—and he can’t do this. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care; he didn’t make you yours to try and stay away from you. So, Choso gives in, unwinds his fists, places one hand on your waist, and the other against your back, pulling you flush against him, and burying his face in your neck. 

“There, I lose,” he grumbles, not caring for your laughter reverberating against his chest, “Now I can touch you as much as I want.” 

YUUJI ITADORI “Th—this isn’t fair,” you tremble, attempting to move away from his kisses, but you’re caged in between Yuuji and the wall. There’s nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to grab purchase onto but Yuuji—nothing to do but lose. 

“I didn’t hear any rules against this,” he feigns innocence, suckling at your skin, “Think it’s fair game.”

You close your eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, but it’s hard when all you can see, all you can feel is Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face. 

Yuuji moans when he feels your tongue against his, kisses you back fervently, swirling his tongue across yours and into the cavity of your mouth. He inhales all your breaths, makes it impossible for you to do anything but succumb to his kiss, to swallow his moans, to take everything he gives you. You didn’t expect Yuuji to have this much resolve—you’d anticipated a short, cute round of a silly party game, but you should have known better; Yuuji has never lost a challenge before, and you were naive, at best, to think otherwise.

Predictably, it’s you that lets go first, whining when Yuuji sucks on your tongue, hands trembling and reaching to hold him, to cling to him as some kind of recourse, unable to squirm or move anywhere else. That doesn’t stop him—Yuuji only sucks harder, only forces more moans out of you until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and bending your knees, weak. 

Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO It’s the kind of thing he usually turns down; cliché, fruitless, and unnecessarily time-consuming; but it’s you, so he makes the exception. You’re too eager, positioning yourself to sit on your hands, your legs folded under your knees, peering up at him from where he’s sat slack against the couch, and he thinks you look awful cute on your knees for him.

“Okay, ready?” you smile, “Three, two—” but Megumi already knows his plan, already has his lips on yours before you can say “one,” drinking in your surprised yelp and greedily licking against your tongue when you part your lips to kiss him back. He turns his body towards you slightly, taking advantage of his height and position to bully you into chasing him upwards, to push his tongue into your mouth with ease. 

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him. It’s when you pull away, that Megumi decides he’s played along long enough; when he can see your chest swell with heaving breaths, see your hands in your lap, neck craned and spit-slick lips that drive him to reach for you. He’s less than gentle, hands finding purchase on your hips, and forcefully pulling you into his lap, ignoring your yelping, choosing to turn them into moans when he sinks his teeth into your neck. Megumi licks, and bites, and bites, and bites, until he’s certain he’s left a mark, until he feels your hands tugging at his hair and giving him permission to splay his palms against your back and buck you forward.  

“I lose,” he hums, soothing over raw bitten skin with open-mouthed kisses, “So, how do you wanna punish me?”

[sammyluvr]

motel shower, 12:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, mention of death, feelings of guilt, 629 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : you help sam shower after he has one of his visions.

sam’s eyes are closed against the warm water of the shower. or maybe they’re closed against the pounding headache that won’t go away. there’s a slight crease between his brows that make you think it’s mostly the latter. you hate to see him in pain like this, so disoriented and trying not to make his distress apparent to anyone else.

but you’re glad that he’s letting you do this for him. your fingers card through his soaked hair as you massage shampoo into his scalp. you don’t have to worry about soap getting in his eyes with them shut tight like this. gently, you guide him back under the steady stream of water to wash out the shampoo. with soft hands, you wipe any suds away from his eyes, some stuck on his brows and cheeks. 

at first, sam had protested about it all. he begged to leave now, to save the person he saw dying in his mind. one hand on his forehead and the other clutching your jacket, he said, “we have to go now.” and in turn, you begged to just get him washed up, under the guise that the smell of the dirt and blood from the just finished hunt would bother you in the cramped car. you told him that you had a headache coming on.

that was all made up, of course. you had just wanted to see him slightly more comfortable. and until he could sort out the flashes of nightmarish scenes that he saw, you didn’t have anything to go off to find this person anyway.

so it’s such a relief to have him here, soaking up the heat of the water and the softness of your hands as you clean him off. and yet, even then, his tired passivity worries you. it’s so rare that he gives up control like this, even for something so trivial. you suppose that to him, it’s not so trivial at all. in a way, you’re honored and assured that he’s willing to give up his control to you. that he feels safe enough to strip his clothes and close his eyes and let you take care of something that he can do on his own.

the motel bathroom is mostly dark, the door cracked open to let the light of the lamp in the main room in. you don’t want his headache to get any worse.

you massage a bit of conditioner into his hair, knowing that he secretly likes to take care of that aspect of his appearance. he doesn’t care about much else, but you know he uses conditioner while his brother most likely doesn’t bother.

then you take a soapy washcloth to the expanse of his skin, littered with both old scars and fresh scrapes from earlier in the day. his shoulders sag a bit when you smooth over them, pressing down gently to try and pull out some of the tension. his muscles are still tense, but he relaxes a bit for you. you’re slow about it. extra soft and careful about it.

sam relents to your touch. he feels guilty for it. he feels guilty for a lot. for the people he can’t save, the ones in his head and the ones in his heart. he feels guilty for making you care for him like this, though you’re the one who asked to do it. he feels guilty because he knows you’re cold; you’ve never been good at sharing the hot water of a shower.

but he still relents to your touch. to your love. because though he feels guilty about it, he feels loved because of it too. he feels safe and comforted and like he might not be so guilty if you tell him not to be.

[prentissluvr]

motel shower, 12:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, mention of death, feelings of guilt, 629 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ open ] .

summary : you help sam shower after he has one of his visions.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

sam’s eyes are closed against the warm water of the shower. or maybe they’re closed against the pounding headache that won’t go away. there’s a slight crease between his brows that make you think it’s mostly the latter. you hate to see him in pain like this, so disoriented and trying not to make his distress apparent to anyone else.

but you’re glad that he’s letting you do this for him. your fingers card through his soaked hair as you massage shampoo into his scalp. you don’t have to worry about soap getting in his eyes with them shut tight like this. gently, you guide him back under the steady stream of water to wash out the shampoo. with soft hands, you wipe any suds away from his eyes, some stuck on his brows and cheeks. 

at first, sam had protested about it all. he begged to leave now, to save the person he saw dying in his mind. one hand on his forehead and the other clutching your jacket, he said, “we have to go now.” and in turn, you begged to just get him washed up, under the guise that the smell of the dirt and blood from the just finished hunt would bother you in the cramped car. you told him that you had a headache coming on.

that was all made up, of course. you had just wanted to see him slightly more comfortable. and until he could sort out the flashes of nightmarish scenes that he saw, you didn’t have anything to go off to find this person anyway.

so it’s such a relief to have him here, soaking up the heat of the water and the softness of your hands as you clean him off. and yet, even then, his tired passivity worries you. it’s so rare that he gives up control like this, even for something so trivial. you suppose that to him, it’s not so trivial at all. in a way, you’re honored and assured that he’s willing to give up his control to you. that he feels safe enough to strip his clothes and close his eyes and let you take care of something that he can do on his own.

the motel bathroom is mostly dark, the door cracked open to let the light of the lamp in the main room in. you don’t want his headache to get any worse.

you massage a bit of conditioner into his hair, knowing that he secretly likes to take care of that aspect of his appearance. he doesn’t care about much else, but you know he uses conditioner while his brother most likely doesn’t bother.

then you take a soapy washcloth to the expanse of his skin, littered with both old scars and fresh scrapes from earlier in the day. his shoulders sag a bit when you smooth over them, pressing down gently to try and pull out some of the tension. his muscles are still tense, but he relaxes a bit for you. you’re slow about it. extra soft and careful about it.

sam relents to your touch. he feels guilty for it. he feels guilty for a lot. for the people he can’t save, the ones in his head and the ones in his heart. he feels guilty for making you care for him like this, though you’re the one who asked to do it. he feels guilty because he knows you’re cold; you’ve never been good at sharing the hot water of a shower.

but he still relents to your touch. to your love. because though he feels guilty about it, he feels loved because of it too. he feels safe and comforted and like he might not be so guilty if you tell him not to be.

[brandwhorestarscream]

part 4? can we get a part 4? holy fuck

i love these stupid pregnant robots . what da hell

big dad alpha trion also just Y_Y is so good.... what an utter papa bear

Here we go anon, as requested! I love stupid pregnant robots too uwu

Previous parts are here: part 1, part 2, part 3

And yes I agree, Alpha Trion is such a big cuddly papa bear 🥺 I'm so glad you see my vision. Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy part 4.

...

“You…” he takes a shaky invent. “Y-You really… wouldn’t mind?” Orion nods in affirmation, and Dee gives his first, weak little smile in days. “Ok,” it comes out in a whispered rush. “Alright… y-yeah, ok… let’s- l-let’s do it.”

It’s a small comfort that the cave is spacious, with many side caverns and walls to duck behind for privacy. Dee can’t stand the idea of anyone else seeing, of being on display. He doesn’t want anyone else to see him, nor does he want to see anyone else… no one but Orion.

They’re both nervous, and unsure of what to do. They sit side by side in a cozy, private little alcove away from the other, witj shoulders pressed together and EM fields mingling gently.

Beside him, Orion is warm. An ever comforting presence.

D-16 swallows, and inches his fingers over toward Pax. Their digits brush and he flinches minutely but Orion isn’t bothered. The blue servo turns over, pressing the back of his digits into the dirt, leaving his palm open and waiting. Dee slowly, carefully, slides his hand into Orion's, fingers curling together to hold each other gently.

“...I’m scared.” he admits in a tiny, croaking voice, and Orion squeezes his hand.

“I know,” he leans over to lay his helm on the silver mech’s shoulder. “I am too.”

“How…” Dee shifts his weight. “How do we… I mean-” he covers his face, embarrassed. “H-How should we… start…?”

This is unexplored territory for both of them. They’d never interfaced with anyone properly. They’d never been taught how. And after everything with Sentinel, well… they’re both worried.

Orion looks up at him, optics twinkling. He offers a shaky smile. “Well, uh… i-in the books, we- we would, um-!” he lets out a sudden, anxious sound almost like a breathless laugh. Heat gushes out of his vents and he startles, beginning to stammer. “I- I mean, it’s just- you know, in- in the books we’d- ah, s-sorry, I- hehe…!”

It’s rare to see Orion so flustered he can’t get his words out, and Dee’s spark warms in his chassis.

“In the books, we‘d…?” he jostles his shoulder as Orion’s face visibly discolors in flushed embarrassment. “What? We’d… kiss each other?”

“Y- Yeah!” his best friend’s optics are darting around, looking at anything but him. “That. Can I…? I mean, i-if you’re ok with it?”

When Dee nods, Orion sits up, wringing his servos nervously before leaning forward, reaching out to him. His servo delicately cups one silver cheek, thumb brushing over the soft, beautiful expanse of his face, and his optics soften. A gooey smile spreads on his face, and Dee squirms as his sparkpulse quickens. Orion’s never… looked at him quite like that before. “I’m,” Orion looks just as nervous as he feels. “G-Gonna… kiss you, now. Ok?”

Again, Dee nods, wholly trusting, and lets his optics fall closed, face slack and lips slightly parting in preparation.

Their first kiss is soft, and clumsy, and a bubbling, flying euphoria erupts in his chest with such intensity he actually reels back. D-16’s optics fly open wide when Orion’s mouth connects with his, and it’s every bit as wonderful and magical as he always dreamt it would be. Jazz had once described it as having a nest of scraplets in your tummy, which sounded wholly unenjoyable, but now that he’s living it? He feels like he’s floating: it’s like gravity has released it’s chains on him and he’s free of the shackles. The joy and contentment, the love, that springs forth in his core at that one, simple act is indescribable.

They separate and Orion’s optics flutter: he feels it too, the rising excitement, the rush of emotion; his face splits into a beaming smile and he starts giggling, before grabbing Dee’s face in both hands and kissing him again. Not forceful, just excited, and Dee can feel the way delighted laughter makes his frame tremble. Despite himself, he starts laughing too, and kisses him back, bringing his arms up to clumsily wrap around his neck and pull him closer.

They tumble into the dirt together, giggling and holding onto each other. They're clumsy and inexperienced, and sometimes the kisses are even downright sloppy, but they're both happier than they've been in awhile just to be there with each other. Hands running over each other's bodies, stroking at seams and shyly looking for sensitive spots, they work at steadily building charge as one.

It's not long before Dee is squirming: his insides feel warm and gooey, and there's a throbbing, hungry sensation deep down in his core. His valve feels wet and slippery, his spike feels tight inside it's housing, and they're both pulsing with the desire to be touched.

His interface panel retracts with a soft click, and Orion kisses his neck. “...are you nervous?” The blue mech asks, and D-16 can feel the warm gush of air from his vents.

“...yeah,” he shivers and curls closer to Orion, snaking one leg between his. “But… I wanna do this. I,” he swallows. “I'm ready.”

A blue servo gently cups his face, and Orion gives him the gentlest, softest kiss that makes his spark stutter in his chassis. A punch of heat rolls into his belly, and D-16 whimpers, needy.

With great care, Orion sits up as Dee lays out on his back. He slides his hands up thick silver thighs, intently watching his friend’s face for any sign of discomfort. There is none, and rather, he tries to wiggle closer. Orion gently parts his thighs, maneuvering himself between them, taking a moment to admire D-16’s bared array. He's beautiful, chubby spike bobbing in the air with every shallow inhale and exhale, pulsing softly with yellow biolights, a drop of pearlescent, glowing fluid gathering at the tip and growing larger with each breath. His valve is even cuter, lips round and plush to protect his most intimate area, already visibly wet, pink lubrication collecting like dewdrops all along the rim. He trembles under Orion's gaze, cheeks discolored as he mumbles, “Hey, c-c'mon, don't stare…”

“Sorry-” Orion sounds breathless, struggling to pull his optics away to look up at his face. “I'm sorry, you're just-” his glossa darts out to moisten his derma. “P-Pretty.”

Dee's vocalizer makes an embarrassed squeaking noise, and he covers his face, a bright but undeniably flustered smile spreading on his face. He giggles behind his fingers, and Orion can't help but snicker along with him, leaning down to kiss his forehelm. Pulling back, he rubs his thighs a few more times before delicately moving his servos toward the bared interface array. His fingers just barely brush the other mech's spike, and D-16 gasps, hips jumping. Fluid dribbles down his spike, and his biolights flash fever bright.

“Sorry-!” He's biting one finger, looking down at himself with wide optics. His fans have kicked on full blast. “S- Sensitive!”

When the head of his spike bumps the back of his mouth, Orion pulls back, till only the tip is between his lips. He suckles at it, swirling his glossa around the tip, before sucking it back down in. Dee thrashes, hips stuttering and trying to roll into the sensation: Orion sets a pace as well as he can, bobbing his helm up and down, sucking and licking like he's one of those cold, dissolvable treats Ratchet sometimes gives them when they inevitably overheat during the hot season.

Orion smiles, and lowers himself down, sliding into the dirt so he's laying on his belly between his legs. He's never done this before–except for with Sentinel, and that did not count–but he'd read plenty of explicit novels, and in those, starting off with oral was always a safe option. He wraps both servos around Dee's spike, exhaling a breath over it and smiling at the way his hips jerk again. He kisses the tip of his spike then sucks it into his mouth: above him, D-16's helm drops back and he moans up the ceiling above. He tastes salty, and sweet, and Orion hums to himself as he works it to the back of his mouth, glossa laving around the length to wet it and aid the slide. Dee swiftly unravels, every vent paired with a wheezy moan as Orion works him over.

“Pax, Pax!” D-16 is swiftly coming undone, servos clawing at the ground, vents fast and shallow as he tries to warn him, “I'm gonna- gonna-!”

He overloads with a wail of Orion's name, a warbling affair that tapers off into wordless moaning. His spike swells in Orion’s mouth and hot fluid gushes onto his tongue, smoky-sweet and nearly scalding. He chokes in surprise, a trickle of it splashing over his bottom lip, but he swiftly gulps the rest down, swallowing more on reflex than anything. It tastes good, he realizes, pulling back to let the spent spike ease out of his mouth. He licks his lips, wiping one hand over his chin to clean up the mess; his glossa is already halfway through licking up the transfluid on his fingers before he even realizes it. 

D-16 looks incredibly relaxed, splayed out on his back and twitching softly, mouth open and panting, optics flickering as he stares up at the ceiling.

“...was it good?” Orion asks hesitantly, hoping he did alright.

Dee responds with a noncommittal noise and a shaky thumbs up. Orion preens, feeling proud of himself. While his partner is still cycling his vents and coming down from the high, Orion sits up again. His interface retracts with an audible ‘schlkk!’ and D-16 twitches.

“Sorry-” Orion tries to stuff his spike back away, but it's uncooperative, straining and hard despite his forceful pushing. Dee’s dazed optics are fixed on him, blinking sleepily. “S-Sorry, it's ok, we can wait, w-we don't have to if you're not ready yet-”

One silver leg lifts and clumsily wraps around him, trying to pull him closer. “‘m ready,” he murmurs, sounding dazed as he reaches both arms out toward Orion. “Please, Pax… I'm ready.” The smile on his face is fragile, but so deep and genuine it makes Orion’s insides feel warm and gooey. “I wanna… do it with you. Touch me… please?”

And there his spark goes, swelling with such tender, affectionate emotion it could only be love. He nods, throat suddenly feeling tight. “Kay- O-Ok!”

He inches closer, hands sliding over his thighs to grab Dee-16 by the hips, pulling him close. He can feel the heat radiating from between his partner's legs, and it makes his spike throb desperately. It's a bit awkward, trying to line up with his valve, and after two unsuccessful attempts he dips his helm, cheeks feeling hot, wrapping one servo around his spike and nearly yelping at the sensation. Primus, he's sensitive! He guides the tip of his spike to the lips of Dee’s valve, and just bumping against the warm, wet entrance has him clenching his denta and willing himself not to overload already.

Beneath him, Dee whimpers, and he catches a glance of his face. His optics are wide and round, something frightened at the edge of his expression, as if bracing for impact, and Orion knows he's unwillingly thinking about Sentinel.

“...hey,” he uses his free hand to take one of Dee's, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. He pulls his hand up to kiss, nuzzling the back with his nose. “It's ok. It's just the two of us, he can't get you. It's just us.”

D-16 sobs, and Orion leans down to kiss his forehelm. Dee let's go of his hand, instead winding both arms around his neck. “I know,” his expression is watery. “Y-You're not him. You're not,” he presses his face into the underside of Orion’s neck. He takes several deep vents, then says, “...ok. I'm- I'm ready now. You can, um-” he squeaks in embarrassment, unable to voice their word. “G-Go ahead.”

Orion's spike breaches the rim of his valve, and the silver mech keens. Both legs tense on either side of his partner, and his arms tighten around him. Orion sinks in slowly, as slow as he possibly can, gently pushing his spike further and further in. There's little resistance or friction, but it's still an incredibly tight fit. Dee’s valve flutters around him, slippery and warm, and he bites his glossa. Don't cum yet, don't cum yet, don't cum yet-!

Beneath him, D-16 whimpers, and his lips begin pressing clumsy kisses to his neck. Over two sensitive neck cables, then his glossa ghosts over a very particular nerve cluster, and Orion breaks. Overload rockets through him like a surge of electricity and he crumples forward onto his partner, pressing him into the cave floor, spike twitching and suddenly letting off a burst of transfluid before he's even fully sheathed inside his valve. Orion moans and tries to stop it, but he's helpless, hips stuttering in mini thrusts as he spills his load.

“Pax-”

“I'msorry-” he lets out in a rush as he finishes, shame burning at his audials. “I'm so sorry, I- I didn't mean-”

Beneath him, D-16 snorts, to his dismay, then starts laughing. His EM field suddenly flares to life; where it had previously been tucked in and nervous, suddenly it's warm and relaxed and happy.

“Aww, Pax,” Dee gently lifts his helm, optics warm and smile loving, contrasted by Orion's embarrassed pout. All the previous tension has bled out of his frame, and he brings his servos down to gently cradle his partner's face. He kisses the tip of his nose. “S'ok. Really. Don't be upset!”

Orion's brow furrows, cheeks puffing out as he averts his optics. “S'not funny.”

“It's cute,” D-16 insist, before pulling his face close to kiss him. He feels better now, honestly, so much more comfortable. Orion has no experience, same as him. They're figuring it out together, they've not had a chance to build their skills. It's comforting, honestly, knowing that they're stumbling into uncharted territory together. It makes him feel safe. Like an equal. The kiss deepens after a moment, Dee's glossa rubbing at his bottom lip and into his mouth–only to recoil, sputtering. “Primus!” he coughs at Orion's confused look. “Is that what I taste like?!”

“Pfffft-!” That breaks Orion's self-conscious cloud, and suddenly he's laughing, too. “I mean… yeah?”

“Augh!” Dee shakes his helm, sticking his glossa out. “Gross!”

“I liked it.” an impish smirk spreads on Orion’s face, and he moves to kiss him again, but Dee blocks his mouth with one hand.

“No!” He yelps, snickering. “You are not kissing me like that, not til you wash your mouth out!”

“Fiiiine,” he pops an energon cube out of storage, chewing it as fast as he can to freshen his breath. “Better?”

Dee kisses him again, nodding. “Much.” He gently wiggles in place, and a half-moan tumbles out of his lips. Orion's spike is still buried deep inside him, still hard, still throbbing against sensitive nerve clusters. His valve tightens around him, trying to pull him in, and Orion whimpers.

D-16 reclines back against the floor, pulling Orion with him. Their hands entwine, lips tangling together. Their first time interfacing is clumsy, gentle, and rife with overwhelming love and trust. Embracing in the cavern, they make love to each other for the first time, EM fields blending as one and sparks singing in euphoria between them. Pleasure builds between them to a great, soaring crescendo, and they cling to each other, sobbing in ecstasy when imminent overload swallows them both.

D-16 clings to Orion in all aspects: chest to chest, mouth to mouth, fingers grasping tightly to him as his legs lock around his hips, keeping his spike buried deep in his valve. He feels overstimulated in the best way, electric pleasure thrumming through his whole body and he sobs in ecstasy through his first and second and third overload. He can feel Orion’s transfluid filling him up, siphoned into his gestation tank. The transfluid levels creep from red to yellow to green, and his middle begins to feel heavy and warm and full. He imagines the sparkling growing inside of him, body grown from the seeds of a mech he loves and adores so much. An adorable child with his and Orion's features alike, perhaps with his lover’s crooked smile or his little helm horns or the shape of his optics, and the thought is so enticing a fourth overload rolls through his body. All he can do is hang on and moan, trying not to drool.

By the time his gestation tank is topped up, they're both sweaty, sticky, and swollen: Orion collapses on top of him, vents heaving great clouds of steam as D-16 pants and gasps beneath him.

The blue mech rolls off and then, with a final heave of strength, switches their positions. Orion laying in the dirt with D-16 half on top of him. Gazing at each other, dazed, the tips of their noses touch. Orion cracks an exhausted, barely there smile, and Dee returns it, using his last bit of energy to move his head forward, pressing their forehelms together.

“I love you…”

The murmured declaration comes as they snuggle against each other, afterglow lulling them to recharge. It’s like being surrounded in the warm glow of a lantern, cuddled together like that: he’s never felt quite so warm or safe or loved, and laying his helm down on Orion’s chassis, he truly feels that everything will be alright. So long as they have each other, so long as he can bask in this connection forever, nothing could ever be unfixable or impossible. Orion’s arms come up to hold him, one servo bracing gently on his belly, and D-16 turns his helm to press a sleepy kiss against his chassis.

They’re going to be ok.

...

And that's a wrap on part 4! Sorry it took a bit longer than anticipated, I really wanted to nail these two in this scene. Awkward, sweet first-time sex gave me more trouble than I thought it would. I'm out of practice lmao.

Aaaaaanyways, I hope you enjoyed! Same thing as always, I'll get started on part 5 and post it once ya'll lmk you wanna see more. Beat the crap out of my ask box, do the rebloggy thing, comment, you know what to do!

[blueiscoool]

Steve Silver stands inside his 5,000-square-foot loft in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. Silver, a painter, moved into the loft in 1979.

A Look Inside New York’s Historic Artist Lofts

The Last of Their Kind.

They used to be printing shops, garment factories and flophouses. Now they’re some of the coolest artist spaces you’ll ever see.

These unique, expansive lofts, rarely seen by the public, are all over New York City.

For decades, they’ve been occupied by painters, sculptors and other artists who moved in when manufacturers started leaving the city in the second half of the 20th century.

“When people think of New York City as a cultural epicenter, these are the artists that they’re envisioning,” said Joshua Charow, a photographer and filmmaker who has spent the past few years documenting the artists and their studios for his book “Loft Law: The Last of New York City’s Original Artist Lofts.”

Artist Claire Ferguson moved into her loft in the city’s Tribeca neighborhood in 1981. At the time, the building in Lower Manhattan had a mix of artists and industrial tenants. “The floor below me was a paintbrush factory,” she told photographer and filmmaker Joshua Charow. “The floor above me put lines on paper before they had offset printing, and they had these huge machines. They had a guillotine that cut through the reams of paper every morning. At 6 a.m., they would turn it on, and it was this noise, aargh!”

JG Thirlwell’s loft in Brooklyn’s Dumbo neighborhood doubles as his home recording studio. “Loft living is not for everyone,” he told Charow. “You’re responsible for everything in here, and not everyone wants a life like that.”

A cat rests inside the Tribeca loft of Ken and Flo Jacobs, experimental filmmakers who moved into the space in 1965. At the time, the monthly rent for the 2,000-square-foot loft was just $70.

For the first half of the 20th century, New York City was a major manufacturing center. Factories were all over, producing everything from ice cream to torpedoes.

But when companies started finding it profitable to move their operations to other parts of the country and the world, many buildings were abandoned. By the 1960s and ‘70s, industrial neighborhoods, including those we now know as SoHo and Tribeca in Lower Manhattan, were largely deserted.

Landlords were desperate to find tenants. A big problem, however, was that the buildings were not zoned for residential use. Many of them didn’t have kitchens or showers, or even electricity or heat.

“The only people that would rent the space were artists,” Charow said. “And that’s because (the buildings) had tall ceilings, so they could make big work. They had big windows to let in lots of light. The spaces were completely raw, in many circumstances.”

Anne Mason sits in front of one of her late husband’s paintings in the loft they lived in together in the Little Italy neighborhood of Lower Manhattan. Frank Mason died in 2009, but his wife preserved his studio and his paintings.

Plants thrive in the natural light of the Midtown loft Bob Petrucci and Ray Bailey call home. It’s on the 16th floor of a building previously used as a necktie factory.

Artists would move into the empty factories and warehouses and make them more livable spaces. It was technically illegal, of course, but everyone was benefiting and the once-abandoned neighborhoods started to thrive again.

By the end of the ’70s, however, loft living had become quite fashionable and some landlords were looking to cash in, pushing out the artists for a wealthier clientele.

The artists pushed back, and in 1982 state lawmakers enacted Article 7-C of the New York Multiple Dwelling Law, which is commonly known as the 1982 Loft Law. This legislation gave protection and rent stabilization to people who had been living in these spaces. It also required landlords to bring the units up to residential code.

When the law was enacted, Charow says in his book, there were tens of thousands of artists living in lofts across the city. Now just a few hundred remain.

Noah Jemison moved to his Williamsburg loft in 1980. He remembers his neighborhood not having as much traffic as it does now. “You could walk down the streets and see nobody,” he told Charow. “It was a place where you could hear yourself think. It was perfect for artists.”

A scan of a 1913 blueprint shows one of the Manhattan buildings Charow photographed. New York City was a major manufacturing center for the first half of the 20th century.

Painter Betsy Kaufman walks inside her Tribeca loft. She uses the front half as her studio. It still has its original wooden floors.

Legislation enacted in 1982 allowed loft residents in New York to establish legal residence and have their living spaces brought up to code. It also stabilized their rent and protected them from eviction.

Charow wanted to document these artists — and their extraordinary lofts — before their numbers dwindled even more. He found a map of the remaining protected buildings and went door to door to see whether their tenants would be willing to share their story with him.

He was often rejected at first. But over time, more doors started to open up as people he met would introduce him to others.

Over the past three years, Charow has photographed 75 artists — 30 of whom are in his book.

“My life has been greatly enriched by meeting some of these artists and learning about their lives and their stories,” Charow said. “It’s had a big impact on just my life, and I can’t imagine how much of an impact this group of people has had on the city as a whole.”

Art created by Carolyn Oberst and Jeff Way adorn the walls of the loft they share in Tribeca. They live on the top two floors of a building they started renting in 1975. “I won’t tell you what it cost, but it was very cheap. We’ll just leave it at that,” Way told Charow. “But that was an incentive to fix it up. It was sweat equity, they called it.”

Ellen Christine makes new hats and restores old ones. She’s one of the last milliners in New York City. “In the 1930s, you could walk down any street, and there would be at least 30 milliners,” she said. “It was just (that) everybody wore hats, you see… So they needed new ones all the time.”

Curtis Mitchell remembers when he first walked into his loft in the Dumbo neighborhood of Brooklyn. The building used to be an ice cream factory. “It looked just like a dream,” he said. “To me, it still is a dream. It’s a fantastic place. Cold as hell in the winter and hot as hell in the summer, but I don’t care.”

One of Charow’s favorite spaces was the Bowery loft of Carmen Cicero, who is now 97 years old but moves with the energy of someone much younger, Charow said. Cicero lives in the loft with his wife, the art historian Mary Abell. Filling the space are hundreds of Cicero’s paintings, some bigger than he is.

“When you dream of what a painter in their loft in New York would be like, it’s Carmen,” Charow said. “And he’s filled with incredible stories. He has such phenomenal stories of his time as an artist here.”

Cicero’s work can be found in the permanent collections of the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Museum of Modern Art and the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

He told Charow the story of how he got his big break: “I had a lot of friends who thought I was a really remarkable painter. One day, they said, ‘Carmen, you’re going to a gallery.’ And they had two guys grab my feet, and two guys grab my arms — they threw me in the car and said, ‘We’re going.’ We went to four or five galleries, and almost every one of them wanted my work — I was lucky.”

Carmen Cicero lives in the Bowery, which has one of the highest concentration of Loft Law-protected buildings in the city. The painter moved to New York in 1971, after his home studio in New Jersey went up in flames

Charow says it has been a thrill to meet these artists and listen to their stories.

“The spaces are beautiful and interesting and historic in their own ways. But without the artists, these spaces lose the significance and the interest to me,” he said. “The artists are the ones who are giving the spaces meaning. Their decades of life and working there is what makes these spaces sort of a sacred thing.”

Through June 29, Charow’s photos are being exhibited at Westwood Gallery NYC, alongside the art of many of the people he photographed.

���I’m really excited that people get to see the paintings and sculptures and and see where they’re made,” he said.

Filmmakers Ken and Flo Jacobs have lived in their top-floor Tribeca loft for more than 50 years. “Once, we staged a live shadow play with a stretched curtain in the loft. Our audience consisted of just two people: Yoko Ono and John Lennon,” Ken told Charow.

Sculptor Marsha Pels lives in what used to be a glass factory in Brooklyn’s Greenpoint neighborhood.

Even though the book is already published, Charow’s project will continue. After he began sharing his photos and videos, more artists started reaching out to him so that they could tell their story.

He now has a list of artists to photograph over the next few months.

“This isn’t just a thing of New York’s past. This is the present,” Charow said. “You can walk down the street and look at a window and you might see (an artist), and they’re still working and they’re still making their paintings and sculptures.

“I think it’s a beautiful part of our city, that this exists. It took a lot of resilience and ingenuity to stay in these spaces.”

Kimiko Fujimura, a painter, moved from Tokyo to New York City more than 50 years ago. She has lived in this Chinatown loft since 1979. It was the top floor of a former bow-and-ribbon factory.

The Lower Manhattan skyline is seen from a loft in Brooklyn.

Joshua Charow’s book, “Loft Law: The Last of New York City’s Original Artist Lofts,” is published by Damiani Books. The exhibition at Westwood Gallery NYCis taking place through July 13.

Photographs by Joshua Charow. Story by Kyle Almond. Published June 16, 2024

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

OLIVIA COOKE PHOTOGRAPHED BY EVELYN FREJA FOR LA TIMES.

RYAN CONDAL TALKING ABOUT ALICENT HIGHTOWER'S CHARACTER ARC IN S2.

Condal describes Alicent’s journey this season as “an ongoing expansion of the character,” although he admits the episodes “really put Alicent through her paces.”

That was something Cooke felt deeply.

OLIVIA COOKE TALKING ABOUT ALICENT HIGHTOWER IN S2.

“In this season, she’s so adrift,” Cooke says, joking that there are only so many miserable faces she can make.

“She’s losing her power. With Rhaenyra and Alicent, it’s like a butterfly effect, so as Rhaenyra is gaining power, the hourglass is turned over and the power is waning from Alicent, and her influence is waning as well. There’s an imaginary rope between [the two characters] that carries them throughout seasons.”

Cooke says Alicent “gets a massive dose of the reality” when her “psycho sons�� take control of the realm.

On a more positive note, Alicent has the opportunity to explore her sexuality this season, coupling up with a character who will, for now, remain unnamed (let’s just say he matches her freak).

It’s a rare expression of freedom for a woman who has lacked agency, which Condal says has “greatly affected who her character is.”

“That was really important because you’ve not seen Alicent experience that in her adult life, and all of a sudden, she has all these teenage, passionate feelings toward someone,” Cooke says.

“I think that makes her feel insane.”

ABOUT FILMING 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' S2.

After seven months of production, which wrapped in September, Cooke was “absolutely knackered” — a polite British way of saying the experience had completely depleted her.

“Last season, Emma and I were only in four episodes each, so we’d walk in and be full of beans when everyone else was at death’s door. Then I think we both really felt the enormity of the schedule. And it’s so emotional.”

“Both of us are just either sobbing or screaming all the time. I don’t know if I smile in Season 2.”

Despite the exhaustion, Cooke loves playing Alicent.

She’s a character of “so many subterranean levels of repression and anger and despair and passion,” which is a huge gift.

Has compassion and empathy for her, and she understands why Alicent does manipulative, devious things.

“She’s smarter than all the men as well and she could rule and she’d be really f— good at it.”

“It’s so frustrating that she can’t believe she would be this amazing ruler because she’s so indoctrinated by the patriarchy and by her father.”

“She’s been molded to talk sweetly into the ears of these powerful men, and it’s such a disservice to who she is and what she’s capable of.”

ABOUT HER PERSONAL LIFE.

Before Season 1 premiered, Cooke was worried that her personal life might become too public for comfort.

“I just didn’t want my life to change. It’s such a big TV show, and I hadn’t ever done anything to this scale before. Or if I had, it was a film that comes out and then goes away and doesn’t live in the culture for years and years and years.”

So far, Cooke’s fears have gone mostly unfounded. She’s recognized, sure, but not in a way that disrupts her daily life.

And when it does, fans are generally nice about it, like recently when she was on the London Underground going home and a group of drunken girls started shouting “Alicent” in her direction.

“It’s actually been all right. I think you notice an uptick as the show is about to come out because they’re promoting it more.”

ABOUT ACTING.

She calls herself a “catastrophizer” and admits she can be hard on herself when reflecting on a performance.

ABOUT THEIR UPCOMING PROJECTS.

She wants to “embark on more of the unknown,” something the actor is aiming to do with her production company Chippy Tea, which she formed two years ago.

Her first production, a romance film called “Takes One to Know One,” will shoot in Rome early next year and stars Jamie Bell alongside Cooke.

She also wants to try her hand at directing.

“When I’m on set, I’m always figuring out how things work and almost shadowing the director.”

“I find acting a lot of the time to be so insular. You can get in your own way. I like the collaborative process of making something from the ground up, and I want to do more of that.”

“It’s also taking control of my own destiny a little bit more.”

ABOUT ALICENT HIGHTOWER FOR 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' SEASON 3.

As for Alicent, well, she may not be so lucky. But, she wants to play her for as long as possible.

“I really want her to just go off and be in the forest with some chickens,” she says, jokingly.

“But really, there’s some good stuff for her for Season 3, if we get it. Really exciting stuff.”

[mariacallous]

Rescue crews are still searching Lahaina, Hawaii, for survivors of the catastrophic wildfire that obliterated the town last week on the island of Maui. It’s the deadliest blaze in modern American history, with 99 people confirmed dead, surpassing the 85 that perished in 2018’s Camp Fire in Paradise, California. Crews have only searched a quarter of Lahaina, so the death toll is expected to rise higher still. At least 2,200 structures have been destroyed.

During the 19th century, it made a kind of terrible sense that blazes like the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 could burn swaths of a city almost totally unchecked. Fire and building codes were lacking. So were firefighting forces and robust water infrastructure. By the early 20th century, those things had been upgraded. Cities and towns were safer—for a while. But now expansive urban fires have returned, and they are burning with startling frequency and intensity.

“We thought urban fires had gone away, that San Francisco in 1906 was the last. And now they’ve come back,” says fire historian Stephen Pyne. “It’s like watching polio come back. We fixed this. But you have to maintain the hygiene—you have to keep up the vaccinations.”

And the Lahaina fire shows that they can burn in places where nobody expects a catastrophic wildfire: a modern town on a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific, whose ecosystems only rarely saw wildfire in prehistory.

It’s not the only recent example of fires ravaging surprising places. In 2021, a freak wildfire ignited in late December—way outside of typical fire season—in Boulder, Colorado, burning more than 1,000 buildings. In 2017, the Tubbs Fire ripped through Santa Rosa, California, and its surrounding communities, destroying 5,600 structures and killing 22 people. “Those aren’t fire areas—they’re just the burbs,” says Thomas Cova, who studies wildfire evacuations at the University of Utah. “They’re modern streets, modern sidewalks, manicured lawns. It’s really become, in this changing climate, much more difficult to map where fires are going to occur and what time of year and how bad they might burn.” 

On Maui, as with wildfires all over the world, there isn’t just one factor contributing to the blaze. Overall, climate change is making wildfires worse: A warmer atmosphere can absorb more moisture from the landscape. Climate change is also making droughts more frequent, longer, and more severe, so there’s less moisture to wet the landscape in the first place. 

Add high winds—gusts of up to 80 miles per hour drove the flames a mile a minute across Lahaina—and all it takes is a single spark to ignite a fast-moving blaze. “There’s no firefighting capabilities for structure-to-structure urban fire in winds like that,” says Cova. “Once one structure catches on fire, if the wind’s blowing like that, it becomes like a blowtorch against the neighboring home.”

These winds across Maui were dry as well, helping to suck the remaining moisture out of vegetation to turn it into fuel. That fuel seems to have been invasive grasses that European colonizers brought when they established plantations. When rains are plentiful, these plants grow like mad, then easily dry out once the rain stops. 

“Those fire-prone invasive species fill in any gaps anywhere else—roadsides, in between communities, in between people’s homes, all over the place,” Elizabeth Pickett, co-executive director of the Hawaii Wildfire Management Organization, told WIRED last week. “At this point, 26 percent of our state is covered in these fire-prone grasses.” 

Not only has much of Maui been in a drought, but it’s also at the height of its dry season, so these plants have turned to tinder. “Feral landscapes fuel fires,” says Pyne. “Hot, dry, and windy, with lots of fuel, is the formula for big fires. And that’s what you’ve got here.”

In Hawaii, as in places along the West Coast, more and more people have been moving into the danger zone: the wildland-urban interface, or WUI. This is where nature butts up against human settlements or even intermingles with them. That’s why Paradise burned so quickly and thoroughly, destroying 19,000 structures, as the fire sped through pine needles and other dry leaves piled up around town. In Maui, the invasive grass acts as an accelerant. “Virtually every community in Hawaii is on a wildland-urban interface,” Pickett continued. “So we’re just like a WUI state, because we have developments that are all adjacent to wildland areas or surrounded by wildland areas.”

We don’t have to discover the vaccine against wildfires in such an interface—it’s already known. Massive urban fires waned in the 20th century because of better building codes, and infrastructure is still important today. When high winds kick up, they jostle power lines and can spark fires. Electrical equipment malfunctions were the confirmed causes of the Camp and Tubbs fires, among other recent blazes. While officials are still investigating what ignited the wildfire that consumed Lahaina, there’s speculation that it was also electrical wires. While it’s expensive to bury power lines, such an investment could go a long way toward saving structures and human lives.

And in the modern day, another big factor is managing potential fuels: In places like California, that means clearing dead brush. In Hawaii, it’s those invasive grasses. Because humans are such an unpredictable X factor in sparking fires—with a wayward firework or cigarette—it’s paramount that when people make mistakes, there’s less fuel to burn.

Protecting cities from supercharged wildfires also requires fundamental social shifts. If a tropical town like Lahaina can burn, which other cities are also at risk—and totally unready for it? “Normally we think of preparing for events that are within an envelope of historical, prior events,” says Cova. “This is unprecedented for Lahaina. And so how do you even begin to talk about preparing for things that no one's ever seen, including the people that manage fires?” 

One of the greatest risks of urban wildfires is that residents can get caught between fast-moving fires and the limitations of city infrastructure, like narrow, winding roads or a lack of evacuation routes. People died in their cars trying to get out of Paradise, and it appears the same happened in Lahaina. “We’ve known for a long time—even in hurricanes where you have way-advance warning—that evacuating cars sometimes is essential, but it’s really problematic, because you get congestion right away,” says Ann Bostrom, a risk communication researcher at the University of Washington. “Any city where you have a wildland-urban interface, and then you have any kind of complicated transportation, where you don’t have free egress, that’s problematic.”

Protecting other cities from Lahaina’s fate will require fighting a battle on multiple fronts: managing fuels to re-tame the feral landscape, minimizing ignitions with better electrical infrastructure, and rigorously communicating evacuation plans. “This is the kind of society we’ve created,” says Pyne. “And these are the kinds of fires that society will have to deal with.”

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 25: Visuals

ao3 | wattpad

word count: 3.6k

Gwen

Twice.

A few minutes later, it’s three times.

I know I’m staring, and he knows it too. In the past few minutes alone, we’ve made eye contact three—well, now four, times. But if I don’t keep it together, everyone else in the room will realize it. Best case scenario, they think I’m disinterested in the budget for the possible expansion to three of our stations on the West Coast. Which would be, I think, completely understandable. Even Julian has stifled a few yawns in the past two hours. Worst case scenario, someone calls me out for eye-fucking my bodyguard in public.

He wore the leather jacket to the office today, my own personal form of torture and he doesn’t even know it. As if I needed any more reasons to have flashbacks all day long.

I don’t think I’ve ever actually enjoyed doing that with a man before. I’ve faked the enthusiasm, given them the doe-eyes, and pretended that there was nothing else I’d rather do. That was the first night in my life that there was literally nothing else I’d rather do. And unlike before, he insisted he take care of me afterwards, and also unlike before, I declined. All I wanted was to make him feel good, to show him that he is deserving of all things positive and pleasurable. Of course it turned me on to see the veins straining in his hands clutching onto the sheets, and to hear him lose his mind from my touch. But the thought of doing anything for myself afterward was somewhere too far away to fathom. As long as Joel enjoyed himself, I did too.

That part I was going to keep to myself for a while. Or at least, far away from Nyah. Or Harper and Landon for that matter. I barely know what I’m feeling, and trying to explain that out loud would just make them more excited before I even know how to handle it. Plus there is the logistical and ethical nightmare of the fact that he is employed by my father, and he is supposed to be protecting me. And he is. He’s just making me feel…a lot while doing so.

“Do we think that’s a realistic timeline?” Carter, one of the junior data analysts, asks Julian. I at least turn my head to feign diligence.

Julian nods slowly, looking through the blueprint in front of him. “It will be tight, but we knew that…” He continues, but I can feel Joel watching me again through the glass. I risk one more glance upward, and the man is smirking at me now. Bastard.

I push my thighs together underneath the table, returning my gaze back to Julian.

One more painful hour later, and we’re done. I was itching to be alone with Joel again, but Julian follows us all the way back to my office, discussing tomorrow’s calendar on the way. When we stop outside my door, I get the urge to ask him. “Do you know what Paul’s schedule is like tomorrow?”

Julian thinks for a moment. “No, but his assistant would be able to answer. Why?”

Because I don’t want to be involved in radio longer than I have to be.

“I had a few questions for him. No biggie. Thanks, Julian.” I give him a smile before walking around to the other side of my desk, and he takes the hint to leave.

Joel hovers by the door.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?” I unbutton my blazer to take a seat, making a show out of crossing my legs.

He smirks at me again, and a rare jolt of nerves runs down my spine as he walks in and closes the door.

“Do you want lunch first, or the bad news first?” He asks.

I sigh. “Bad news, please.”

“Arthur and Janet called during your last meeting. The news is breaking today, probably in just a few hours for online publications. They’re doing a few other celebrity gossip releases at the same time. It will hopefully steer people away from your case.” He watches my face carefully for my reaction, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore. Instead, a new thought pops into my head.

“Do you think the publication will…encourage the stalker in any kind of way?”

Joel mulls it over, running a hand down his face the way he always seems to in times of stress. “I don’t think so, but it’s impossible to know. Some of these guys would be scared back into the shadows after a release like that. Others might…”

He pauses for so long that I’m afraid he won’t finish the thought.

“Might what, Joel?”

“They might derive some sort of pleasure from the whole thing. The article mentions that you moved residences, and I think that’s the worst thing they can put in there. I can see some asshole somewhere being pleased with himself that he’s made a large enough impression for you to leave your home.”

“Wouldn’t he just be focused on finding me again?”

“Probably. But it would start with the feeling of success, that you know who he is now, in his eyes.”

“I wish I knew who he was,” I mumble.

“You and I both.” His rigid posture and agitated tone tells me everything I need to know about what might happen to the stalker if Joel ever found him.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Nyah, only to notice that it’s past five o’clock.

I raise an eyebrow at Joel. “You’re asking about lunch and it's almost dinner time?”

“You never ate lunch,” he eyes an unopened salad container on my desk. “I brought it to you and it was still untouched when we left for the budget meeting. Thought you could use the reminder.”

I glare at him despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You weren't hired to be a detective.”

“I’ve done several things I wasn’t hired to do.” His eyes are playful, his voice low…

I need to keep it together. In this building, at least. In my new apartment building, however…that’s fair game.

My phone buzzes yet again from Nyah.

“Is it the story?” He asks as if he wasn’t just alluding to our incredibly unprofessional escapades.

“No, it’s Nyah.” I pick it up, swiping the messages open. “She’s asking about Paris. I’m assuming it’s sort of out of the question now that the story will break, though.”

I start to type as Joel asks, “Do you want to go?”

Huh.

I hadn’t actually thought about what I wanted. “It sounds fun. Nyah has wanted to work with Andre Bacri for the longest time. It would be great to get the chance to cheer her on…”

“So, let’s go.”

He says it like we were, in fact, just talking about lunch.

“What?” I chuckle a little, but he’s serious.

“Time away from the city wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. Most stalkers like this most likely won’t have the means to follow you across the world. And, I’m no public relations expert, but a couple of pictures of you out and about as if nothing happened might help the press.”

I blanch at him.

“You—the most overprotective man on the planet—think Paris is a good idea?”

A small smile tugs on his lips. “Not overprotective. Just protective,” he lowers his voice, taking another step toward my desk even though the door is still closed. “If I remember correctly, you yourself told me to guard your body.”

I hate how much of an effect this man has on me. My complexion, my breathing, my thoughts... And I hate how much I don’t want it to stop.

“Do you want to go?” He asks again, reveling in my silence.

“Yes, I would like to go.” I straighten up in my chair, determined not to get further distracted by how impossibly broad his shoulders look at this angle.

“Okay. I’ll run it by Janet to make sure it won’t do any harm.”

“Thanks, Joel.” I say it the way I would to anyone else, leaning over to power up my computer. But his name alone is enough for him to linger a moment longer, eyes drifting a little lower than what could be classified as appropriate.

With his hand on the doorknob, he asks, “Anything else I can do for you, Gwen?”

“Not at the moment, no,” My eyes flick over to him with a challenge, “Maybe later tonight. I’ll let you know.”

“I’m at your service.” He doesn’t miss a beat, which only makes me hate him more.

I start emailing Paul’s assistant before Joel has finished closing the door.

I liked Julian and the rest of the team, but I don’t have an interest in the radio part of the company. Ideally, I would be training directly underneath my father. I did for a summer or two, but in light of recent events, that privilege has been revoked. I know that it’s a long-shot for him to allow me to work for either the Russell Foundation or my mother’s foundation, also in light of recent events. Particularly those that are better kept under wraps. But from what I know, I’m wondering if I can use it as leverage. At the very least, if it’s not my mother’s charity, maybe he will be willing to put me under the Russell Foundation.

That’s where Paul comes in. If I can talk Paul into allowing me to work under him as one of the board members for Russell’s Corporation’s philanthropic side, I can bypass my father altogether. I know that he likes basketball and wasn’t able to score season passes this year, and I also know that my father hardly ever uses his box at Madison Square Garden. I just have to hope Paul isn’t above bribery. With this crowd, it's likely that he isn’t.

After checking a few more things off my list, I take another look at my phone to see several missed messages. Skimming through, Harper had someone over last night and she desperately wanted to reenact how bizarre they behaved. She was promising that only in person would do it justice.

I feel my heart clench, remembering that in a matter of hours all of the stalker information will be public knowledge. Public knowledge that my friends weren’t privy of, and will undoubtedly hear about it from a random source instead of their friend. Part of me wants to believe that whatever celebrity gossip Janet and her team are cooking up will bury my information so deep that my friends won’t hear of it. But I’ve been doing too much wishful thinking lately. They need to hear it from me directly, and soon.

- - -

To my surprise, Joel didn’t fight me when I said I wanted to go to Harper’s apartment. I had prepared a small defensive speech about how we can take a winding way home, not that Rodney and him wouldn’t have planned that anyway, but I didn’t need it. All I said was that I think they need to hear it from me, and he agreed. I was even more surprised when we arrived, he did a sweep of the place, and agreed to wait just outside.

All four of our faces were still dumbfounded even after he closed the door.

“How much did you pay him for that?” Landon jokes, taking a seat by Harper’s large bay window.

“I guess it’s pro bono.” I sit on one of the floor cushions across from them. “So, Harper, tell us about last night.” I gesture for Nyah and her to walk over and join us, but Harper shakes her head.

“I have to show you guys what happened in the bedroom. Well, I guess I can start here.” She’s bouncing up on her tiptoes in excitement.

Nyah takes a seat next to me, leaning into my side. Harper starts in the kitchen, saying that her overnight guest took a look through her fridge before running a hand along the wall, looking for…

“Your wifi, maybe?” Landon offers.

“Or maybe she was just admiring your exposed brick?” asks Nyah skeptically.

“I don’t know but it was weird. She wasn’t shy, but she spent all this time in the front of the apartment, looking at my walls and stuff. I mean, thanks to Lands, I’ve got some killer art so—”

“That’s probably why,” they wink.

“Exactly. But, anyway, we’re on the couch and I thought we were going to get to it, but then she starts asking about all my plants.”

“You do have a lot of plants. More since the last time I was here, actually,” I say. Harper’s apartment was absolutely stunning with its eclectic, bohemian charm. Even the beams above us had vines of some sort running through them, so that question, at least, wasn’t that unusual.

“You need plants in an oasis,” she says like it’s a cardinal rule, “But anyway, we’re kissing and stuff but every time I go to do a little more, she pulls away. So, I’m like okay, she’s not into it. That’s fine. But then she gets up and just walks upstairs without saying anything. Turns on all the lights, and I just hear her walking around up there.”

“Maybe that was her way of saying ‘let’s take it to the bedroom.’” Nyah drops her voice to a sultry level for the last part.

“I followed her, obviously. And she was pacing around like she meant business. I would have thought it was coke or something but I’d been with her most of the night.”

“Remember that guy last year who paced before and after sex?” I muse.

“Oh my god, yes! Except this woman, Layla, was pacing in between rooms. At least that guy kept it to one space. She kept commenting on the apartment, which was nice but I was just super confused.”

“So you guys didn’t hook up?” Landon asks.

“No, we did,” Harper grins, “Come on, that’s what I want to show you.”

The three of us exchange a look before following her up the stairs. The next ten minutes is Harper physically acting out last night’s affairs that went from the hallway, to the bedroom, to the shower. Besides the pacing, and what Harper described as staring into each windowsill, the two of them seemed to have a pretty good time.

“And, she left as soon as we were done.”

“Is that weird too?” Nyah watches Harper flop down on the bed.

“I guess not. Usually it’s guys who want to leave right away, sometimes girls do, but I don’t know. She was quite a bit older, so maybe the rules are different. I just thought the pacing and checking and questions were so weird. But I didn’t even get her number so the mystery will remain unsolved.” Harper sits up, slapping her hands on her legs. I take that as our cue to go back downstairs, but Landon puts their hands up.

“Wait. This might be easier to discuss up here.”

I give them a curious look.

“Speaking of good sex…” their eyes land on me. I wait, wondering if I can play it off.

“You and Elijah…?” I circle one hand over the other, thinking that might be where they’re going with it.

“Well, obviously. But I’m talking about you.”

My gut fully drops now.

“Oo! With who?” Harper turns to lay on her stomach, her feet kicking in the air behind her.

“Who do you think? The bodyguard she can never stop complaining about.”

“What?” I gasp, turning whirling on Nyah. “You told them?”

Nyah’s eyes grow wide and she shakes her head, but before she can say anything, Harper and Landon chime in simultaneously.

“Told us what?”

“There’s something to tell?”

Oh shit.

Nyah didn’t say anything. I should have known.

I sigh, sitting down on the edge of Harper’s bed. “I was going to tell you all sooner. And technically, it wasn’t sex, sex. I called Nye the morning after it happened, but there was some other stuff I found out right after, the reason I had to cancel. And everything became too much and—”

“Gwen, it’s okay.” Landon’s voice is careful now. “I was just teasing. Tell us whatever you want to tell us.”

“I really was going to tell you both, it’s just hard to find time away from him. And he probably doesn't want anyone to know. He told me he’s never been with a client before. I can’t imagine it’s usually encouraged.” I laugh lightly and both Nyah and Landon take a seat in front of me.

“If it’s any consolation, I can just always tell when you’ve had sex. It was a lucky guess that it was Joel.” Landon says softly.

“Lucky guess, and the fact that we all know he’s damn good looking,” Harper smiles, nudging my shoulder. “So, what’s the issue?”

I tell them everything. Even though I know it will worry Harper, and for that reason I’m glad I can’t see her face unless I crane my neck. I tell them about the gifts, the messages, the breaking of the windows, the lie about the fumigation and why I switched apartments, the background checks of my team, the fact that they aren’t allowed to know where I’m staying now. I don’t go into all the details about Joel and me, mostly because I’m too embarrassed to admit I asked him to stay. But I tell them that he did stay in my room at home with me, and that he’s been staying in my new room since we moved in. When I’m done, I take a big breath, and finally feel a relief wash over me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Not all my secrets were out, but having a few less on my shoulders was a good start.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Nyah speaks up.

“When will the story break?”

I shrug. “Probably in the next hour or two if it hasn’t already.”

She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I knew there were weirdos online but this is a completely different level.”

Harper hugs my shoulders from behind me. “I’m sorry, too.” After a beat she adds, “But I’m also super proud of you for sleeping with Joel.”

All of us burst out into laughter. “What?” I ask, still giggling.

“That’s not what I mean! I mean, I’m proud of you for hooking up with him, sure. But you’re letting him in. Even a little! And I think that’s great.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Yes, well, we’ll see. It’s not exactly an ethical relationship.”

“You told me he tried telling you that and you kept refuting everything he said.” Nyah raises a brow at me, and I whack her lightly.

“Whatever! He was…we were…It made sense at the time.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Landon asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if he’ll want to.”

This time, the three of them are the ones exchanging looks.

“What?”

Landon speaks slowly, delicately. “It’s…the way he looks at you. I get it, all bodyguards have to watch their clients, but—he’s clearly infatuated with you.”

I can feel my heart rate pick up, but I shake my head. “Infatuation doesn’t mean anything.”

“Even if you look at him the same way?” They still say it gently, but it feels like a harsh slap of vulnerability. Like someone had seen the things I conceal even from myself, polished them, and placed them on a table in front of me. I’m not ready to face that reflection just yet.

“I tell you guys I have a stalker and this is what we’re talking about?” I try to laugh it off, and tonight, they let me. They have me go over a few more of the details, and Harper pulls out her phone to go through my comments. The thought of finding someone who writes similar comments to the gift notes is good and all, but there’s too many of them. And the notes were too short to really grasp onto anything.

“What did you do when you thought someone had broken in?” Nyah asks, concern etched on her perfect features.

“I grabbed a bookend and I went out to help Joel.”

“What?” Harper screeches. “You could have been killed!”

“I know, I know. I was just thinking that it could be like four guys against just him and I was picturing him getting hurt, unable to call for help and…” My voice catches slightly on the memory, and I clear my throat as quickly as I can.

Three pairs of shocked eyes are resting on me.

“What?” Unfortunately, my voice still shakes a bit as I ask.

“Like I said,” Landon gives me a small smile, “You look at him the same way.”

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[geminimoonmadness]

I have a grand trine in my chart with Lilith in pisces in the 10th house (my moon is also in pisces exact conjunct my mc still in the 9th), Venus in Scorpio in the 6th house, and Jupiter in Cancer on the border of my 1st &2nd , falling in my first. I’m not sure what this means for me!! I can’t find much info about it!

A grand trine is essentially a gift from the universe. They are fairly rare, so having this aspect makes you quite lucky. Each sign within this major aspects element will work together to increase productivity. A water grand trine is all about emotion and love. You may predict what people are going to say before they even say it, you live in your feelings & these feels are a response from your environment (bad environment= bad mood, good environment=good mood)

I find with your gift specifically it is aimed at ‘inspiring’ others.

For starters, let’s look at each placement that is a part of your grand trine, these placements energies are extra ‘lucky’, So it’s important to acknowledge them as they are part of your gift on this earth & will help you reach fulfilment.

Lilith Pisces 10th House

Here Lilith’s raw energy manifests itself in the public eye, making you more visible to the world. You subconsciously seek popularity and deep down want to be recognised. Your authenticity brings with it a charm that attracts others. You have a passionate desire to succeed which influences others. You may struggle with a sense of responsibility and difficult decision making.

Venus Scorpio 6th House

You have a NEED (not so much a ‘want’ either but you ‘need’ this in order to have a successful union) for intimacy, authenticity, truth and power/control in your relationships with others. You may become dependent on relationships as the 6th house is where you serve others (servant/chores/marriage vibes). You tend to over analyse things that results in having harsh judgements on yourself which is expressed through feelings/emotions instead of thoughts/words. Your one on one relationships have an effect on your health, wellbeing, routine, jobs, productivity, etc; So ensure that you choose wisely when connecting with others.

Jupiter Cancer 1st House

This placement blesses you with a long life, happy family & nice home. Since your Jupiter is in the 1st house/Ascendant, you’ll fill the space of any room you enter with your energy (Jupiter is expansion) which can also make you be seen by others as optimistic, lucky and honest. You understand the world from an emotional perspective, there is a fear of vulnerability in which you may isolate in order to protect yourself, though this can instead limit the positive results of Jupiter.

Now lastly, we get into the trine aspects that your grand trine is made up of.

Lilith Trine Jupiter

-craves freedom

-embraces individuality

-challenges standards

-defy/resist social norms

-unique individual

- great placement for spiritual development

Lilith Trine Venus

-in your darkest times you still shine

-easy to express your raw beauty, sexuality and desires.

-complimented on your edginess & unique style

-you may do things that others receive backlash for and yet you avoid being shunned and/or confronted by anyone for it. (Even though Jupiter isn’t in this aspect it still has a bit of Jupiter’s ‘Luck’ because of the grand trine)

Venus Trine Jupiter

-idealistic, Optimistic and loving person

-you’re an extrovert in your 1 on 1 relationships but need to learn to not be so generous at times.

-When you commit to following your passions & desires, you will then connect with people who can help & support you along the way.

Each of these trines result in you inspiring others, your Moon being conjunct your MC indicates your emotions are connected to your goals & aspirations, they will gain you recognition and encourage/inspire others. You don’t hide them, they’re on show…So in saying this you could really help inspire others by being an influencer of sorts, a writer, empathy/spiritualist, artist, creator, etc. Just by putting your authentic self out there ✨

Your Grand Trine will be here as a tool to help you on any path you take when you’re listening to you HEART & EMOTIONS.

✨✨✨

I hope this helps shed some insight on the major aspect in your chart 🩵 xo

⚡️Reach out with questions ANYTIME ⚡️

[rottenomelet]

a/n: in celebration of my random douma/kotoha post doing unexpectedly well, i’m posting this little exerpt of some douma/kotoha porn i’ve been writing for a while. thank you all so much for all the love on my douma/kotoha posts 💟

context: this takes places sometime after kotoha has run away from her husband. she is now completely settled into doumas cult, however she is unaware of him being a demon. douma considers kotoha as little more than a pet or a plant.

warnings: doumas kind of an asshole, as we all know, and sometimes has misogynistic thoughts.

Kotoha is… shapely.

Her neck is a long, smooth expanse of white, save for one small mole on her collarbone. Douma can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop his unbeatable urge to kiss that mark. Her shoulders would be just as pale as her neck, if it weren’t for a hint of a flush.

Her breasts are large - there’s no polite way to put it. Douma’s always noticed this. Kotoha is breastfeeding a larger-than-average baby, after all, so swollen tits are expected. Her nipples, probably a pretty shade of pink normally, are rubbed raw and red from Inosuke’s near-constant drinking. They’ve pebbled in the cool air, sensitive too, if her shivers when he flicks one is any sign.

He leans down, kissing each nipple delicately, before taking in the right one hungrily. He nips at that red nipple, suckles it like a baby. She arches her back at the feeling, only pushing her breasts into his face more.

“Douma-sama. They’re really quite sensitive…” She tells him. In response, he grabs a handful of her left breast and tweaks her nipple there.

He won’t lie - he’s obsessed with this humans body. It’s perfect, even in ways it shouldn’t be. Large breasts, wide hips, a nice supple ass - she’s perfectly made for him.

On the rare occurrence that he has been interested in satisfying the pleasures of the flesh, he’s always found himself gravitating to more shapely women. Ones whose curves are apparent, even underneath layers of conservative Japanese clothing. He’s always believed that a woman should be shapely, curvy. Supple in all the right places. Douma’s never understood the fascination with a woman who lacks those mouthwatering qualities.

Mothers tend to gain weight in the spots Douma prefers. Breasts, thighs, hips - all places where a woman should have a little extra meat. Because of this, many of his… sexual partners, willing or not, have been mothers.

Kotoha is no exception.

When that first dribble of milk hits his tongue, Douma almost loses his mind.

It’s sweet and creamy. He’s almost jealous of Inosuke. Douma suckles and nips, uncaring of Kotoha’s little yelps when he does so. He can smell how much she likes it when his teeth run over her sensitive areolas.

He honestly barely has a taste for anything besides human blood and flesh but Kotoha’s milk tastes like a dessert. A treat to Douma for being such a good leader. He can imagine that her milk is her gift to him, her body a thank you for taking care of her so well in the last few months.

A shaky hand patting his back interrupts his commending drink.

“Douma-sama, please ease up a little? I-I don’t want Inosuke to go hungry tomorrow.”

She’s sweet, worrying about her baby even now. He appeases her, giving her tit one last suck before letting go.

His lips travel slowly, slowly south but his hands are a little faster. They quickly trace the outline of her body before settling on her hips. Her hips are wide, most likely from childbirth, yet her waist is small. Stretch marks on the otherwise milky skin of her stomach and thighs.

Her thighs are thick and Douma feels an urge to bury his head between them. Lick the slick that gathers in that heated space between those valleys.

His cool hands trail down to her thighs, caressing them. “I’m going to touch you between your legs now. Is that ok?”

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Satori’s Blessing

[Finally finished the follower raffle fic for @wayward-lotus , thank you for being so patient with me. This is pretty much just fluff. And I’ll be putting this on AO3 later on today. I hope you enjoy ^u^]

The group had ended up on a mountain; one Wild seemed to both know and be very excited by, if his bouncing in place and large smile were any indications. It was later in the day by now, and after traveling first through a vast expanse of land and then a disorienting trip through a portal, they had decided that it was as good a time as any to make camp for the night. Wild led the way between three large rocks that made up the pointed tip of the mountain. From the inside, there were three well-trodden paths with a cooking pot on top of a pile of ash.

“This is a good spot to rest for the night; besides, there’s lots more to see up here when it gets dark.”

“Not that I don’t believe you,” Legend spoke, sitting close to the pot and looking up at Wild’s grinning face, “but I don’t believe you.”

Wild laughed, setting up an area to prep the food for dinner in the center of the three rock spires. They all started conversing amongst themselves as Wild finished and passed around dinner as the sun slowly set over the horizon. Wild hummed to himself, putting things away and cleaning up everything left over from dinner.

“So, what’s so great about this mountain? You got super excited when you realized we were here,” Wind questioned.

“Well, besides the ridiculous amount of useful resources here, there’s something special that you can see on rare nights beyond this peak. I have a good feeling about tonight,” Wild explained, setting the now clean cooking pot down with some finality. 

“I’ll admit, there’s a… feeling, I guess,” Hyrule spoke, closing his eyes and setting his hands on the ground, “Something is definitely here. Something with powerful magic.”

“Good or bad?” Four poked Hyrule, the traveler batting Four’s hand away with a chuckle.

“Neutral? I’m not sure, but it isn’t dark magic.”

“Well,” Time spoke up, rumbling voice gaining everyone’s attention, “we’re staying the night anyway, may as well see if we can spot what you mentioned, Champion.”

Wild nodded as he sat against one of the tall rocks and stared at the world beyond. Conversation flowed soon after, talking about other areas with similar magical feelings. Twilight mentioned the Lost Woods of his era, how the skull kid that resided there was mischievous but not an enemy. Sky talked about three dragons' lairs and a sky deity that could have been similar. Four mentioned the Minish, while the others shrugged with little to offer. Soon, the stars shone brightly despite the fire blazing between the group members as they talked long into the night. Then, slowly creeping in, a strange teal mist began to pour into the clearing. Wild sat up with a grin, then stood slowly and motioned for everyone to quiet down. As they noticed the mist, they stood up, following Wild’s lead to stay quiet.

Looking down the path between two rocks, they spotted a glowing blue creature with a face like an owl and two long feathered antennae coming out of the fur on its head. It peered at the group with beady gold eyes but did not seem frightened by the sight of the group. It came closer, repeatedly stopping to cock its head as though thinking or questioning them all. Hyrule was the first to move, stepping next to Wild and getting down on one knee to get closer, extending a hand to the creature. It went right up to him, sniffing curiously at his hand and lightly brushing its face against it. Hyrule smiled wide, Wild slowly taking out his slate to photograph the scene.

“What is that?” Wind whispered the question, and Wild held the slate in a hand as he turned to the Sailor.

“A Blupee. I think they’re drawn to magical locations.”

“They’re beautiful,” Hyrule whispered, petting the top of the Blupee’s head.

The Blupee closed its eyes as the hero petted it, then turned and walked toward the end of the path, where the teal-colored mist was coming from. It turned to them as though waiting. Hyrule took no time to stand and walk forward, the others following closely behind, eyes sparkling in wonder.

When they passed the rocks, the group found themselves overlooking a small pond that Blupees surrounded, with cherry blossoms steadily drifting from the tree at the water's edge. And in the very center of the water, looking up at the group, was what looked, at least in part, to be a horse. But that didn’t do the creature justice. Its body was cloaked in a teal-blue light, with lines and shapes of light blue wrapping around it. Its mane and tail were long, the mane covering and wrapping around the creature’s neck. It had the same antennae that the Blupees did, but its face was not one of an owl��s. Instead, it had long ears that hung at the sides of its face and a long patch of fur that hung from the center of its face that seemed to act as its mouth. It had four golden eyes that shone like stars, watching as the heroes entered its domain. 

“It’s beautiful,” Twilight breathed out at the sight, and several of the Links nodded in agreement.

“What’s that in the middle of the pond?” Wars asked.

“Oh, that’s the Lord of the Mountain. A spirit that protects Mount Satori,” Wild explained, taking a seat at the edge of the water, cross-legged, “Some travelers believe that the Lord is a nature spirit and that they are here to help mend the land after the Calamity.”

“So, the Blupees?” Legend asked, kneeling down near Wild.

“Think of them like Fairies are to the Great Fairies. They’re like helpers.”

A Blupee approached the two by the water, occasionally pausing to watch and tilt its head. Legend watched in turn, tilting his head like it was. When the Blupee got close enough, it stood up on its hind legs, leaning with its forepaws on Legend’s side. Legend watched it, making eye contact with the Blupee, holding still. The Blupee slowly closes its eyes, then opens them, Legend copying the action. That was when a small group of Blupees also approached, practically running and knocking into Legend’s back as they started to climb him.

“Hey!”

Legend didn’t get much time to yell as he ungracefully fell forward onto his face, hair barely brushing the water’s edge. Laughter erupted as the other Links saw Legend's predicament. Wind fell to the ground in a fit of laughter, practically rolling on the ground with the force of it. Wild reached out to scratch a Blupees head, chuckling to himself. 

“They’re pretty cute,” Four spoke, sitting next to the downed Legend and petting another Blupee on the back. The Blupee in question turned to Four and jumped to his lap, nestling in and closing its eyes. 

A few more Blupees were brave, trotting up to Time and Hyrule, pawing at them as though to be picked up. Hyrule smiled, happily bending down to pick them up, and holding them close to his chest as he walked toward the trio by the water. Time merely reached down to pat the Blupee’s head, but the Blupee was not satisfied, jumping up Time’s arm before he could fully pull away. The Blupee took up residence on Time’s shoulder, and Twilight chuckled at his mentor, scratching the Blupee between its antenna.

The remaining group approached the water, Wind kneeling down and dipping a hand into the water. Mere moments after Wind had done this, a low humming noise began. Sky looked up, watching the Lord of the Mountain turn toward the group, watching them unblinkingly. Wild nudged the Blupees off of Legend, helping him sit up in time to watch as the Lord of the Mountain gracefully walked toward them, the water barely shifting with each step. When the Lord of the Mountain was a single step away, the Lord stopped and watched them. The low humming grew louder.

“Heroes across time and space,” a voice echoed, “I, Satori, welcome you to this sacred place. Though you came here unnaturally, know that you will not be harmed, not while I am here.”

“Thank you, Satori,” Time spoke, giving a short bow as the Blupee on his shoulder moved to keep balance, “We will only be staying the night nearby.”

A soft breeze blew, almost like laughter.

“There is no need for formalities here, Hero of Time. You may stay as long as you need and take with you the resources the mountain has to offer you for your journey.”

“It’s very appreciated,” Warriors spoke up, smiling.

Satori nodded, then closed their eyes.

“I wish to bestow upon your group a blessing.” Satori spoke, and the humming quieted, settling over the space like the teal mist around them as Satori’s markings began to glow, “With the powers invested in me, may the wilderness provide you with all that you need, may the moonlight your way at night and the stars shine as a silent comfort. May the road that stretches before you not challenge you and may the ocean waves not toss you from safety. With the powers instilled in my spring, I bless you, heroes, that all these things come to pass.”

The humming ceased, and with a single blink, Satori vanished with all the Blupees that had surrounded them disappearing as though they were never there. In the distance, they could see the sky starting to lighten.

“Let’s just sleep for a while. We can stay here until we’re all fully rested,” Time stated, and none of the heroes disagreed.

They all slept peacefully, without the need for a watch shift as Satori promised them that as long as they were here, they would always be safe.

[twinsimming]

Get To Know You - Sims Style

Thank you to @descendantdragfi and @bioniczombie for tagging me 💙💙💙

What’s your favorite Sims death?

I haven’t had any sims die recently, but I do have one wild story from several years ago.

When my 2nd Gen heir Maya and her sister went off to university, they stayed in the sorority house. The general university shenanigans were taking place (sims not cleaning up after themselves, piles of laundry everywhere, etc.), but I didn’t realize some of their roommates weren’t eating... until it was too late 😬

THREE (3) girls in the dorm died in one night! Two of starvation and the third from thirst (idk how she became a vampire). Since they all died so close together, the Grim Reaper just hung around the dorm until he reaped all of them. I had Maya collect their tombstones and take them back with her to Lucky Palms when the semester ended. Now they’re all resting in the mausoleum, hopefully in peace lol.

Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Maxis-match with some alpha pieces here and there. Though I feel like the line between what’s considered maxis-match and what’s considered alpha in TS3 is way more blurred that in TS4.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Rarely. Some of EA’s premades are just so skinny sometimes!

Do you move objects?

All. The. Time. I can’t remember a time where I’ve played or built without it on. It makes it so much easier to squeeze sitting chairs or plants or floor lamps into tight corners and make nice collages of different wall art that overlap each other a little.

Favorite Mod?

Gosh there are so many mods that I absolutely love, and lately the TS3 modding scene has been putting out banger after banger, but my most recent favorite mod is @thesweetsimmer111′s More Toddler Interactions! I love being able to feed toddlers outside of the highchair and actually give them baths. And Savanita’s animations are always so cute!

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

The Sims 3: Showtime! (crazy, I know lol)

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

ALIVE. Idc if it’s the wrong pronunciation, I’ve committed to it 😤

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Probably my test sim, Leia. I created her from scratch and use her to test my mods and any CC I download, but lately I’ve been thinking of actually playing out her life. She’s also the adult sim in my Yoga Mod cover photo. Here she is!

Have you made a simself?

I did a few years ago, but I never got around to playing her. I wonder if I still have my simself’s household somewhere...

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

I haven’t used an EA preset hair in 10,000 years, but I guess the black one isn’t too terrible.

Favorite EA hair?

The braids from The Sims 3: Island Paradise!

Favorite life stage?

I feel like Young Adult is a boring answer, so I’ll say Teens lol.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Mostly gameplay (and testing mods/cc :p). When I build, it’s usually remodeling the interior of an already existing build. 

Are you a CC creator?

Yes!! I started with TS4 to TS3 conversions, but I’m also a modder now 😁

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

The Sims 3 community on Tumblr is pretty small, and I feel like we all know, follow, or are in a Discord server with each other (shoutout to the TS3 Creator’s Cave members!!). So, in a way, we’re all in the same squad ✌

Do you have any sims merch?

Unfortunately, no.

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

No.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I used to exclusively play with families and progress through a few generations, but recently, I’ve been playing with more single sims to experience parts of the game I hadn’t really touched on before. I’ve also gotten a lot better at avoiding “same face” syndrome when I give existing sims a makeover or make them from scratch. Getting more comfortable with custom sliders has definitely helped with that too.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

There are a ton of creators whose content I absolutely love, so I won’t be able to name everyone, but here are a few:

@aroundthesims, @anitmb, @aisquaredchoco, @bioniczombie, @chazybazzy,  @deniisu-sims, @danjaley, @enable--llamas, @echoweaver, @faerielandsims, @franglishetchocolat, @flotheory, @givresims, @grandelama, @greenplumbboblover, @ifcasims, @ilvansims3conversion, @jamiegirlposts, @jazzysimlife, @joojconverts, @justmiha97, @kotajose, @lazyduchess, @martassimsbookcc, @monocodoll, @mspoodle1, @nectar-cellar, @nightospheresims, @ninaaposts, @olomayasims, @omedapixel, @pandelabs, @phoebejaysims, @pixelfrogslegs, @plumbdrops, @poisonfireleafs, @potato-ballad-sims, @potatobuttcheek, @puffkins2000, @rstarsims3, @simbouquet, @simsdeogloria, @sim-songs, @simtanico, @sweetdevil-sims, @tasteslikefridge, @technicallyswagpizza, @teekapoa, @theplumdot​, @thesweetsimmer111, @xiasimla, and @zoeoe-sims!

And that doesn’t even get into all of the talented TS3 creators over on Mod The Sims or NRAAS!

How long have you had Simblr?

Going on 5 years now. At first I was just reblogging other creators’ content so I could put it in my game, but then I started doing my own conversions in late 2019, so this blog became my simblr and I continued reblogging CC on @twinsimmingccfinds.

How do you edit your pictures?

Gimp 🧍‍♀️

What expansion/game pack is your favorite?

The Sims 3: Seasons! I love watching the seasons change, the holidays, the festivals, and the feeling of progression. I also love snow and the winter season in real life, especially when I was younger, so seeing my sims going about their day in a snow covered world is very nostalgic for me.

Most people have probably been tagged by now, but if you haven’t been tagged yet, I just tagged you 😉

[wirewitchviolet]

The Entire Plot of Final Fantasy 14, with all the expansions, and some serious analysis of how good it actually is. (Part 4 - Post-Heavensward)

At this point my schedule for posting these is mainly limited by how rare the windows are where Tumblr will let me hit the “new post” button. Hopefully the congestion clears up soon.

Last time, we got through the end of Heavensward. A story about awful fantasy-catholic blueblooded aristocrats letting their own people starve to death while pursing a genocidal war against some real chill dragons that technically has you helping the terrible people for most of it, but at least you get to kill the pope. Which of course means now Ishgard is going to stop being a horrible place full of terrible bigots, right?

Post-Heavensward

Oh no of course not! The main structural thread of this interim of free patch content is you having to babysit this uneasy peace you mostly established and make sure none of these terrible people mess it up. Or, you know, the big dragon who was the primary aggressor in this thousands-of-years-long war who went ahead and possessed the guy who killed him because for real Estinien what did you think was going to happen when you held both eyes at the same time? Honestly.

There’s a whole bit with someone commissioning a giant version of this mural from Ysayle’s little underground dragon church of the original actual Shiva and Hraesvelgr falling in love to hang outside the gates of the city which I swear is all framed perfectly for all kinds of video edit jokes, possessed Estinein flying in and really starting crap. At one point while having kind of a party someone slips something into the protagonist’s drink before getting a riot started and hey, Warrior of Light, this is the second time that’s happened, maybe lay off wine in the future. Church loyalists don’t like that you killed the pope and exposed their whole everything as a lie, some people still hate dragons, someone tries to assassinate Aymeric, things get pretty damn awful and it largely comes to a head with some jerk flinging a small child off her roof who only survives because one of your chillest of dragon pals just happened to be heading over to maybe have a chat. Ends up being a real good PR moment for team dragon when she catches the kid.

As is usual with this stuff there’s a lot of plot threads running in parallel as we had episodic updates when this first all came out, but this particular topic doesn’t stretch on too much longer, culminating of course with possessed Estinein who has the eyes fused to his armor looking kinda like Nightmare from Soul Calibur and when you fight him he’s flipping between this and a full on dragon form.

Hraesvelgr shows up to help with this mess because seriously, Hraesvelgr is a solid pal. We get some dragon on dragon fighting that doesn’t go super well for the big H, but turns out that’s because his ace in the hole is letting you borrow his eye that was already out and loose and all. So you have your big satisfying one on one (well, 8 on 1, but the plot always pretends those other party members don’t exist) boss fight, then you and Alphinaud tackle him so you can just pry those freaking eyes off his armor and toss them into the massive imposing ravine you’re fighting over. They’re stuck in there pretty good though, and the only way you get them out is with the help of the ghost of Ysayle showing up. Whole band’s back together! Hauchefant’s ghost is here helping too, but I’m sorry, he just did not leave the impression on me the writers figured he would.

Estinein is fine, of course. Again, he’s all tied in with the Dragoon job quests. In fact, when you’re stuck in the boss arena with him in dragon form waiting on party recruitment, you can totally slip out, head to the next town over, advance some Dragoon quest stuff and spar with him a bit before the main event. Stuff like that amuses me. Anyway, this whole confrontation honestly is a very good scene. Someone should really take notes at how much better all this works when you have nice unambiguously good characters not only fighting some evil jerk but actively trying to save people they care about than wannabe Game of Thrones morally grey political stuff and shadowy robed figures with ambiguous goals whispering in people’s ears. And apparently someone is. My understanding is there was a big shift in the writing staff after this expansion and the grimdark folks kinda take a back seat while the woman who wrote the real standouts of the Rogue’s Guild and Dark Knight quest lines got tapped to write the better half of the next expansion and basically everyone for The Good One.

Estinein also finally takes off his busted blood-drenched edgy armor after this, and probably takes like his first bath ever, happy that his militant badass role is no longer needed and he has friends who take care of him. Which is nice but I can’t get over how wrong he looks without the helmet. I know he’s an elf but this semi-femme look is just weird for the guy always pulling the giant eyes out at meetings.

The next major story hook we have going on, which again is pretty intertwined with this one, is that all the less friendly monster folk kinda went and took advantage of your back being turned and started summoning their gods again. Canonically this is like the fourth or fifth time you’ve had to deal with this in some cases, because there is generally some plot justification for having the hard mode versions of those fights crop up (as opposed to the hard mode versions of non-summoned-god boss fights, which are rationalized by there being this bad hanging around who comes up with extra embellished versions of your exploits and then those go into the boss fight a la carte menu).

Hey, didn’t you used to have a whole party of friends whose whole deal was keeping tabs on exactly this sort of thing? Really is high time to get that band together too. Alphinaud has been with you the whole time, getting like half the dialog in the expansion. Y’shtola you dragged out of teleport limbo earlier. Urianger just never left your original base of operations because books are hard to move, you just haven’t checked in (past starting optional boss refight questlines) because who wants to spend time with Urianger? Papalymo and Yda are missing, but we get cutaways now and then showing them hanging out behind enemy lines doing resistance stuff. That still leaves Minfilia and Thancred. Thancred you know made it out because his scuzzy barfly pseudo-spy instincts kicked in and he got out from The Incident early but he’s been way off the grid. To help track him down, you get a little assistance from Matoya eventually, but also from that friend Minfilia’s been trying to invite to join the party since a half-audible phonecall near the climax of the base game, who’s been waylaid since by stuff like the empire full on destroying the island she was living on, Krile. Yes like, from FF5 Krile, has a grandfather named Galuf and everything... and wait where the hell is this line from? This has to be an edit, right?

Aside from being a walking FF5 reference, a big nerd all your nerd friends know from nerd school, and the owner of this custom-made catgirl hoodie, Krile is on that list of Lalafel I can count on one hand who aren’t Just The Worst. Another is Rauban’s adopted son who I think gets introduced around here somewhere. Anyway her and Matoya work out where Thancred’s been hiding. He also headed way up north you just never bumped into him, and he’s had eyes on this odd situation where while in particular the bug hivemind is getting their god up and running again and you show up to do your thing, this other goup of people come out of nowhere and killsteal him.

They introduce themselves as the Warriors of Darkness. Their whole deal is that they WERE the world-saving heroes of an alternate universe, but they claim they saved it a bit too hard, setting off an apocalypse where the whole balance of light and darkness tipped way too hard towards light and now this wave of holy radiance is just gradually glassing their whole world. They came here because one of those Ascian losers taught them the whole die and have your soul head off somewhere else trick, and put it into their heads that they can avert this apocalypse by coming here and scoring enough points for team darkness to screw your world over or kill your plot immunity crystal goddess or some such, but first they need to grind some god refights to power up and presumably recharge their personal metaphysical Zelda crystal chamber progression rooms, like you had to do during Heavensward and maybe spilling into Stormblood? I don’t recall when they all come back online.

The other thing with these guys is you’ve kinda seen them before, sort of, presumably, if you let the whole intro play out in the base game. There’s the whole bit where we see that end of 1.0 apocalyptic scene play out, then these five teleporting into the woods somewhere. The implication was clearly supposed to be that this is a party of 1.0 characters showing up unscathed afterwards but... no we are totally retconning it. This is a group of dimension hoppers party crashing. Actual 1.0 survivors had to start over at level 1 with no gear and nothing to show for it but those 1.0 veteran neck tattoos I’ve seen in the wild all of one time.

This gets real confusing real quick though, because the intro movies for every expansion have a pre-rendered stand-in for your character who looks more or less exactly like the guy in the middle. Also I’m pretty sure what you look like if you just mash through character creation without changing anything from its default postion. Also that central primary actually-took-the-Warrior-job Warrior of Darkness in particular kind of is canonically your sort-of-twin/counterpart from another dimension and I figure the only reason he isn’t actually just straight up given a copy of your character model is he has a ton of voiced lines and they’d sound weird coming from whatever you actually look like. Still super confusing though that when you first see this guy in the intro you incorrectly figure that’s you, and then in all the other intros when you do see you, you might think you’re seeing this guy now that you’ve met him. It’s also weird that they all summon chocobos in hindsight, but whatever we’re retconning an old cutscene now and that oddity only becomes odd in the expansion where we see where these people came from, still several years off.

So, they suck, and go around doing their thing while you’re dealing with other things. Thancred swoops in to help you out when you first meet them, and then later since he’s keeping tabs swoops in when they happen across Allisae when she’s just minding her own business/still waiting for you to find a party for that Bahamut raid already and take her down with a poisoned arrow that almost kills her. Trying to recall if that’s one of the several times when someone mistakes her for Alphinaud or vice versa. There’s definitely one of those the first time she meets Estinein which is pretty great.

There’s also a whole bit where we get cutaways to the Warriors of Darkness having planning sessions with a mysterious shadowy figure that is just so very clearly Urianger. Like that’s a really distinctive beard and also literally not one other person in the entire world talks like that. It doesn’t turn out that Urianger is secretly evil though, just... really curious about their whole backstory and all the interesting cosmology it brings in and stuff. Plus you know, they are trying to save their world from an apocalypse, that’s worth trying to help with, just not with the plan they’re going for. But also like, hey, Urianger, you’re hanging out having chats with an Ascian, that’s never a good plan.

Allisae tags along after getting pretty plainly pulled into this mess, and she’s honestly a pretty cool no nonsense hothead type which balances out all these academic nerds some. She’s around when you meet this tiny little kobold kid freaked out because the local priest is going to sacrifice his parents to summon Titan again, and you show up uh... between the part where he killed this kid’s parents and the summoning bit. The kid’s pretty traumatized by this, and in begging for his parents back, kinda ends up, you know, summoning Titan. Who does not bring his parents back. That is explicitly a thing gods can’t do (at least if you don’t want soulless zombie-like husks of people, they can swing that). But only hackney writing can truly bring back the dead. Interesting side note here, you have to fight Titan again, but it’s not a new fight? It’s just, like, “to proceed with the story please bring up medium difficulty Titan and knock that out real quick.” Weirdest thing. Anyway at the end of this we just have this SUPER traumatized to the point of catatonia kobold kid and Allisae is super invested in his eventual recovery and it’s kind of the defining moment for her character and pays off nicely later.

There’s a lot of lore dumping associated with all this and honestly none of it fits in super well with what’s previously been established about cyclical apocalypses and it all gets retconned pretty hard again the next time it’s relevant and that revison is way better world building than “wow those evil manipulative Ascians sure are trying to make this party of noble* heroes do evil stuff to plunge the whole world into darkness” business.

* I am just never going to be able to let the whole deadly poison in an arrow fired at a random civilian thing go. There’s really no justifying that and it directly conflicts with everything they try to do with these characters later.

Anyway turns out Minfilia’s dead. Kinda. It’s complicated. To work out what’s up with her you have to go bother poor Matoya again and check out the upside down tower in her closet I accidentally mentioned too early. Which arbitrarily ends by the way with a fight against Calcabrina, that really memorable creepy doll fight from FF4. Sadly you can’t skip the big boss by killing all 6 little dolls at once here. So, your personal goddess Hydaelyn has been having connectivity issues for a while (again, this is why you needed an immunization booster in the form of a soul pact with Midgardsomnr, who still pops up to chat here and there and also manifested a cooler mount form for Azys Lla touring). So... when Minfilia was kind of just adrift in the lifestream there with Y’shtola, she kinda went “hey can I like hollow out your body to use as a mouthpiece for talking to the protagonist? It’d really help me out” and not having any sort of actual personality Minfilia agreed. She’s kinda still in there but, yeah. Also like I already assumed, just because this game is so very diligent about hammering home that all religions and gods are inherently false and parasitic, that we’re eventually leading up to a big “and that absolutely includes Hydaelyn” moment, and this here really feels like tipping their hand towards that but... somehow not one single character in the whole game sees this as a red flag or has any problem with it.

Eventually you have your big ol’ showdown with these Warrior of Darkness jerks, and its kind of a neat one showing off a lot of new mechanical concepts that will be commonplace soon, and it’s a big ol’ party vs. party thing where you fight their whole team and the Scions pull their weight for a change helping out. Allisae (who’s never really been formally on the team but is definitely A Party Member from here on out) kinda surprises everyone by announcing she’s sick of being all passive in the background with her little caster book that matches Alphinaud’s and whips out a big ol’ glowing crystal sword she’s gonna try tanking with for a change. After this she decides that’s not really for her and goes for a lighter one once the Red Mage class gets introduced.

So you beat these jerks up and send’em packing back to their home dimension, but you do feel bad for them, so Minfilia/the voice of god goes along with them to see about maybe helping out there. You know, again, we wasted a perfectly good Moonbryda to avoid killing Minfilia off earlier and then we go right and turn around and pull that trigger anyway, basically. And now we’ve just got one and a half major plot developments left and I kinda want to save the one that really sets up the next expansion for last, after I get into the sidequest stuff.

The half though is that somewhere in the middle of all this a real big preposterously tough weirdo samurai washes up by Urianger’s place, having just come over from Doma by just taking a damn rowboat over. Possibly going the long way around the world, too. I just generally enjoy this broad character archetype.

And yeah it’s weird he’s British in the English dub. It’s weird that everyone’s British. Well everyone but Gaius I guess. When we get to the third expansion people start having accents from other parts of the UK at least for a little variety, but it’s weird. Anyway Gosetsu here is a cool new friend but he’s mostly here to let Yugiri know we’re kinda getting the resistance band going again over in Doma after things were rough enough for a bunch of people to have to immigrate over here and get involved in ninja job quests. Can’t foreshadow things much harder than that.

Time for side stuff though. First off, hey, with all these flying islands we have in this expansion, we really should have some cool friendly air pirates. The sort you’d see in Skies of Arcadia, or various Ghibli films. So we do! They’re fun! And we get involved with them as they’re dealing with this big scary floating doom ship that survived a past apocalypse with some evil guys looking for ancient relics. Typical stuff from those wacky Allag- oh! Hey for like the first and only significant time it’s NOT the Allagan empire! We’re dealing with fallout from one of the OTHER world ending apocalypses and dead civilizations! This isn’t just out of the blue or anything. This stuff does come up a bit in the slew of optional dungeons that opened up after the base game, and in various class/job questlines, particularly like all the spellcaster ones.

Way back when we had three big civilizations of nerds all at once and at war with each other. We’ve got Ampador (white mages), Mhach (black mages), and Nym (scholars). And the big war they had went down in history books as the War of the Magi... because damn if the writers for this game don’t bend over backwards to work in every reference and every maybe-this-is-even-the-same-world-centuries-later deal with every old Final Fantasy game, but especially the SNES ones, and ESPECIALLY FF6. Surviving details are sketchy but basically Nym got taken out with a plague that turned everyone into tonberries, and the other two really went at it until a point where thanks to black mages spamming fire ice and lightning, and white mages spamming wind and earth, the whole world’s elemental alignment got skewed because the only people who ever cast water spells are ninja, and this caused a global flood. Really that’s what this wiki just told me.

The Mhachi got out by building a big flying arc powered by bound demons, including the queen of demons, which is just an absolutely ridiculous and irresponsibly dangerous thing to do and yes I am 100% just setting up a callback joke for when I explain what happens in later expansions. Also the demons are specifically bound in giant coffins, as is the Mhachi style, so... we have this gigantic airship made of coffins looking all Event Horizon and having this general manta rays and mind flayers aesthetic going on. I actually genuinely like that this setting has such a convoluted history with multiple fallen empires just kinda tucked away in the background so we can pull stuff like this out now and then and appreciate the shared themes and aesthetics stuff from various eras has. That’s some solid nerdy world-building I’d like to see more people tackle. I’d also kinda like to see more of it here because for real this is the only time it’s ever not the Allagans.

Helping you deal with all this and giving you ancient history backstory is this weird little familiar that’s survived since Mhachi times whose name is, can you guess the reference we’re dropping? Cait Sith. He looks... odd. Anyway, this is our big alliance raid trilogy for the expansion. Noteworthy cameo bosses include Doomgaze from FF6, who has a bunch of hard to read full party kill attacks and is a lot of fun to learn and then watch other people die to constantly, and Diabolos, who you’re actually fighting for a second time if you did an optional dungeon. Plus a bunch of reasonably original vaguely Gaelic and/or fishy demons.

Anyway speaking of weird little artificially created cute familiars, remember our dumb friend Hildibrand? You pull him out of a snow drift and have some fresh wacky shenanigans with him. This time as you pull him out, you also pull out this adorable as all hell little clockwork Black Mage called Gigi because that’s the sound your little head gears make when your memory isn’t working right, and we didn’t want to just directly go with Vivi. Hildy and his assistant Nashu argue about Gigi’s gender but totally just decide to collectively do the adoptive parents thing. At first they’re living in the gazebo of the noble family you’re still sort of crashing with (and we absolutely get some oldschool RPG nerd gazebo jokes) but eventually they decide if they’re really going to be a proper family they need a gazebo of their own, and settle for a vacant house in Idyllshire, that sort-of-a-town in the ruins of Sharlayan set up by cool goblin pals. Gigi decides their new residence needs a proper family crest too, and creates one.

Gigi is freaking adorable. Oh and Hildy’s dad also shows up during his, at one point using his renowned artisan skills to craft Gigi a new super buff muscle guy body to be a Proper Manderville Man which is pretty great while it lasts. Other little clockwork black mages/vikings/cool little guys with void faces exist incidentally, they’re called mammets and aren’t quite relics of a lost civilization, but were created early enough in the history of the current civilization that people are kinda 50/50 on still having the knowledge to fix them. Gigi is special though having this whole time reversing power that leads to various shenigans and some angsting about not being able to fix everything and a big heroic sacrifice moment leading to a powered down state, after which Gigi goes on your list of little summonable minions along with chicken-Enkidu and a bunch of other random things, to hang out and hopefully remember stuff. Oh and Hildy gets launched like half a world away again because someone points out that if Gigi is his child that makes his incongruously hot and violence-prone mom a grandmother and she cannot deal with that.

Briardien the other inspector from the last batch of Hildy stuff also pops up again, with his own longng line of really just cutscene sidequests and... I’m gonna be real with you. It is some boring Harry-Potter-ask magic school crap and my eyes glazed over as soon as it started and I just kinda blindly mashed through it all to get the little glasses-adjust emote at the end and get those exclamation points off my screen. It’s lame, he’s lame, doing a Harry Potter sort of thing is lame, I don’t care, and I’m glad he never shows up again.

But then we’ve got the "normal” raid set. Seeing chunks of this are literally what got me to take a chance on this game to begin with (well that and it’s totally free up to the end of this post you’re reading), and kept me going through the absolute slog to get to this point. Freaking Alexander as this combination city/god/confusing timefolding thing/set of a dozen or so little mini-dungeons/bossfights with really great music and where you fight a combination of goblin mad scientsts and smaller city-like robots that live inside the big one, some of whom transform.

It is just a blast playing through this bit. You’ve got all kinds of steampunky little sections where everyone has to split up and dive down big tubes and ride ultraspeedy ultra-thin conveyor belts that careen all through this big city, there’s this wacky mad scientist fight where people have to jump into pools of mystery goo that transforms them into gorillas so they can punch aside big cartoony bombs, the transformer in that bit I just linked where halfway through the fight you have to run over and jump on as it turns into a jet and just nukes the whole arena, then do a timed button press to hop off safely, and of course the specific thing someone showed me that hooked me in is the bit where you fight a set of five robots, then they fight Voltron, with a remix of an earlier track from the area in the style of a 60s tokusatsu theme.

The plot associated with this is neat too. Alexander is just kinda there, in this big frozen time bubble, barely shifting now and then to get a little bit of itself out and giving you a new entry point. Cid and friends are checking it out, because showing up to check out the cool new techy raid dungeon is their entire deal and a repeated thing. Turns out it just sort of appeared out of nowhere a few years ago, vaporized this one woman’s boyfriend, and vanished, with just a book about it and a cat left behind. One of the local goblins found the book, studied it, decided that Alexander is just the coolest thing, and summoned it the way FF14 people do to be the new utopian home of his people. Cid is horrified by this and says something along the lines of “what kind of a monster takes something as pure and beautiful as a giant robot and goes and makes a god out of it?” So you head through, cool goblin techno getting louder and more distinct as you approach the center, have a big confrontation, time travel mode gets turned on, you all get a good view as you jump back a few years, watch this guy get vaporized, and the head goblin’s cat decide he sucks and hop off with his notebook, realize there’s all sorts of time loop shenanigans as you make friends with his adorable cat.

And of course partway through all this there’s a bit about dead boyfriend gal talking about her people’s creation myths also mentioning what sure seems like Alexander popping up at some point and dumping out her Adam and Eve equivalents, so yeah, that’s where things end up for her and her less-dead-than-suspected boyfriend once all the timeloop business wraps up and you have the proper fight against Alexander, on top of Alexander, with Alexander looming in the background because time and space are all kinda going screwy on you. I swear when people say they like Heavensward what they really mean is they like this Alexander stuff you get access to after it.

Eventually though once you’re done playing with time traveling robots, air pirate demons, building a city for moogles and dragons, helping bugs reject their abusive parents, and leading dance squads for owl people, it is time to get back to that main story progression. Ishgard eventually gets it together enough to come join your alliance, and you’ve finally got the whole continent united to deal with that evil empire. The one that’s been occupying your immediate neighbor for two decades. With all the refugees. Isn’t it, uh, about time you get around to striking back and doing some liberating there? A lot of people sure think it is. This is what Papalymo and Yda have been busy with. That whole coup leading into this expansion was tied into false promises of pushing back there. For some reason though, the collected heads of state aren’t quite willing to push the button there yet though. I guess they want to intercept a fresh attack wave before they counter? That’s the go to plan in strategy games. Maybe deal with the recent summoning wave some?

In any case it really gets under the skin of the local terrorist scene as headed up by Ilberd, that guy who cut Rauban’s arm off, and they decide it’s time to force everyone’s hand by stealing a bunch of military uniforms from everyone else and assaulting the nearest imperial stronghold themselves. I am fully in support of this plan, honestly, people are really dragging their feet too much. Unfortuantely the Empire has, you know, lots of guns and death robots and while they’re too blindsided to get the real heavy ordinance out, Ilberd stole uniforms from EVERYONE, and has this whole Watchmen plan going which involves his own assault squad getting pretty well slaughtered even as you and your actual armies rush in to help, because all of them getting desperate and panicky and him busting out a big ol’ bit of aether storage in the form of one of Nidhogg’s eyes he climbed down to get from the big hole you tossed it down let’s him do a big ol’ large scale summoning. You suck Ilberd. Could have just forced a war all regular.

It seems like the new summon is coming in all extra huge and Bahamut looking, and Papalymo, having recently borrowed what’s left of Louisoix’s staff (oh yeah, there was a whole thing with Ascians wanting that because it has some ancient super good aether channeling rock built in, this came up with the Moonbryda stuff I think), decides to recreate that whole save world from giant god dragon thing from the ol’ intro, despite the fact that he knows it kills the caster, and the fact that like, you’re right there. You kill gods, it’s your whole thing, you could take it. Yda’s pretty upset with this plan because those two are pretty close and goes all “if you’re dying here so am I.” Thancred just goes “no you’re freaking not” and drags her off. Hey, finally everyone’s getting some real characterization here. Anyway Papalymo’s dead. I guess that’s kinda tragic. He’s certainly been around the whole time. If I’m honest he was never really well established though? He’s a healer, he fusses over people like C-3PO. I guess he’s on that short list of Lalafel I don’t hate. But the most interesting thing about him is a bit we only just find out here now that he’s dead.

Yda is also dead. Has been for some time. Apparently since some time in 1.0, even. The original Yda was a monk with serious self-esteem issues with her face and/or a desire to hide her traditional Ala Migan face tattoos, and therefore always wore a mask, so when she died in some big attack, her younger sister Lyse just had to steal her mask and pretend to be her for uh... basically as long as anyone present has known her aside from Papalymo. The big reveal is that like most of the Scions, she has these fancy neck tattoos everyone in 1.0′s Scions equivalent had, but the real Yda died after getting those, and these were an illusion Papalymo was creating. I feel like this would land a lot better if the real Yda died more recently, like, oh, when things went bad in Ul’dah? But even then she hadn’t really been established as much of a character. Just a little bit of a bimbo, kicks people, hangs with the short healer. But it’s pretty significant to her, so she’s ditching the mask, going back to using her real name, and really keen on being basically the main character for the next expansion like Alphinaud was for this one since the whole fallen fortress/giant god summon thing did totally force everyone’s hand.

Oh but first that there god is still there, just kinda temporarily bound, and we don’t have a moon handy to lock it up in. Which of course means it’s time for you to kill it right? Well... normally it would be, but Cid and Nero are kinda “on again” just now and Nero found this cool robot buried underground and mostly worked out the manual and he just really really pretty please wants to see a big cool CGI fest cutscene where a big Godzilla-ish spacey dragon fights a weird vaguely Gamera like robot. This is objectively a horrible idea, for the record. You totally can and do just go punch that dragon to death like every other god, and Nero’s robot kinda goes on to cause a real problem in the next post-expansion, and then again like, time of writing, the Ultimate difficulty fight with it has only been beaten once by people who were exposed as flagrantly cheating. That’s all on you Nero, so I hope you enjoy your pointlessly indulgent cutscene.

Are you happy now Nero? Are you? You know I STILL haven’t finished FF5 thanks to Omega. Gotta go and add that to this game too huh, well I hope you’re happy. I guess big dragons and robots fighting in cutscenes is a series tradition though, and it’ kind of neat to get a preview of what some bosses’ deals are going to be WELL in advance of when you get to fight them. For now they’re both down for the count, we get a shot of the Domans heading home, the main villain for the next expansion seeing and appreciating that splashy fight because that’s the sort of thing he’s into, and for the 4th time, we have a very long credits roll, marking the end of what you can play without putting up any cash. Which is admittedly a solid chunk of game, only most of which is super boring and tedious!

So yeah, again, I honestly straight up do not like Heavensward. Too much time hanging out with just the absolute worst people, even if you do get to personally kill kind of a lot of them, and none of the dungeons or boss fights are particularly interesting either (Bismark would be if it had teeth). Post-Heavensward though? Pretty solid overall. We really start fleshing out the main cast, and have some really just bonkers side quests with a lot of creative energy and memorable moments. As of here though I would still say no FF14 is a terrible game with a bad plot but has some really neat optional content once you’re an expansion deep. And I would have to stop here since again, this is where the free version ends, and while I got here just around the end of when the free-trial availability’s hammering of the servers forced them to shut down new character registration and I could invite some friends in, they all bounced off before even the first dungeon. People I know who’d been in it a while though went and gifted me the other expansions and several months of time cards though, so next post I’ll be talking about the second expansion. Is that where things finally get good? Eh kinda. They get pretty OK at least. It does weird me out that things get much more enjoyable right at the point you need to put money in though.

Speaking of money I am still like one bad day away from being homeless, and I have a Patreon. You don’t have to give ME money to learn what’s in these next 3 expansions, but I’d sure appreciate it if you did.

Next time, Stormblood... which I swear will be a shorter write-up. But then I always think that.

[remorsefulkittens]

Paramedic May...Or Maybe Not

Rating: General

Status: Complete (2,883 words)

@911bingo Square: Paramedic May Grant

Summary: May rides along with Chimney and Hen, but paramedic life may not be for her.

Read on Ao3

May Grant was by no means a quitter; she was strong-willed, determined, and rarely backed down from a challenge. That morning she was going to be the star ride along of the 118…now it was 11:47, not even noon, and her optimism was waning.

“Grab my bag will you?” Chim called, jogging toward their fourth call of the morning, a cyclist who rode down a flight of cement steps. “And be quick, Grant! This isn’t the call center, you need to use your legs.”

May didn’t miss the wink Chim directed at Hen, or the amusement that tugged at Hen's lips. It was all in good fun she supposed, but she had been lugging bags, running and fetching all morning, and that was the best part…the rest of the time she was getting puked on, or wanting to puke herself. Before today she'd had no way of knowing just how gruesome a third degree burn could be, or how far away you had to be when a kid projectile vomited, and if that weren’t enough, she was pretty sure she could see bone sticking out of this next guy’s ankle.

Joining her partners for the day, she hid to wince, taking in the compound fracture Hen was stabilizing.

“Ok May,” Hen said, glancing up to make sure she had her attention. “You can see the bleeding is under control, so we want to cover the open wound with a sterile dressing, then we can splint it…very carefully, and…are you watching?”

May nodded, turning her grimace into an unnatural sort of smile. Bike guy looked like he was barely holding it together, but May had learned her lesson about offering pained, panicked people her hand. Her fingers were still aching courtesy of their burn victim.

“Shock is our enemy of course, but we will keep an eye on that in the rig,” Hen went on, while May tried not to focus on just how white bone is in the sun, when you let it outside of the skin. “Let’s move him Chim,” she ordered, gesturing at the stretcher.

“What about my bike?” The patient spoke up worriedly. “Can we take it with us?”

Chim grinned, helping to heft the injured man without jostling his leg.

“Sure,” he said, “May here will grab it.”

Their next few calls were less bloody, but they hardly fell into the emergency category. Hen lectured a man who bit his tongue eating pizza, a woman who lost her ticket and was ‘trapped' in a parking garage, and a man whose wife wouldn’t let him leave the house until he admitted he was having an affair.

May had to admit she was exhausted by the time they responded to an expansive home in the hills, where three frantic teens, reeking of marijuana, were stressing over their stoned friend who had climbed a tree before falling fast asleep.

“Man! How are we gonna get him down?” The blondest of the teen boys asked, latching onto Chimney’s arm, eyes glassy and unfocused.

May shook her head, shading her eyes so she could see the dark haired kid, perched precariously on a jutting limb, a good 25 feet off the ground. She resisted the urge to laugh nervously, taking her cue from Hen who was also gazing up into the tree, poker faced.

“Well,” Chimney said, patting the blonde boys shoulder reassuringly, “our friends in the fire engine are right behind us. They’ll climb up and get him down…until then, let’s not startle him.”

Everyone stared up, holding their breath. May leaned over and whispered to Chimney.

“Aren’t you worried?” Side-eyeing the stoner kids, wondering if they were too high to realize their friend could fall and die. She was mirroring Chim and Hen's casual stance, but inside she was horrified that all they could do was stand by and wait.

Chimney turned his head to look her in the eye. “Hell yes, but let's not tell them that,” he nodded to the teens. “The ladder truck was only minutes behind us. Hen radioed them so the siren is off, but they’re coming.”

The ladder truck did arrive, quietly, and they worked swiftly, with no shouting of orders this time. The truck was positioned, Eddie raised the ladder, and Buck climbed up to secure a harness on the kid, all miraculously, without waking him. Bobby stepped up beside May to give her shoulder a squeeze, and she smiled at him even though she wanted to weep with relief.

Once Buck had the confused teen on the ladder, everyone on the ground whooped and cheered. May acknowledged that being out in the field wasn’t so different from the call center; there was a time to keep quiet, a time to focus, and a time for loud celebration. Just, at the call center there were a lot less bodily fluids, May reflected, as the formerly treed kid looked up to where he'd been, turned, and vomited all over Buck.

Delivering babies was both the best and worst of paramedic life, Hen told May on their way to yet another call. Labouring mothers were unpredictable, and you had to develop a feel for which were about to deliver, and which just needed reassurance and a ride to the hospital. The miracle, Hen said, was when you heard the baby cry, and it never got old, but getting there could set your teeth on edge.

Despite Hen's gentle warning, May couldn’t help her excitement. The birth of a baby was a celebration, and being a part of it had to be rewarding. May had coached a few pregnant women as a dispatcher, staying on the line until the medics arrived. Those calls gave her the best feeling because after all the pain and worry, there was joy. In person, May reasoned, it could only be better.

It was a poor neighborhood they pulled up to, and a tiny ramshackle house. They exited the ambulance in a hurry when a frantic man, not much older than May, ran out to usher them inside. May grabbed a bag without being told, feeling energized, but suddenly guarded, hearing the guttural noises from their patient as they stepped through the door.

The woman, so young, probably a teenager still, was lying was on the living floor in a makeshift bed of cushions and blankets. In the corner was a children’s inflatable pool, that Hen scrutinized before kneeling beside the labouring mom.

“We heard that giving birth in water was better for the baby…” the young father defended, misinterpreting Hen's interest for disapproval, the real concern being the amount of blood in the water.

“When did she get out of the pool?” Hen asked him, feeling for a pulse.

“Um, just before I called you. She was hurting really bad…I mean worse than before. She's been at this all day, since early this morning. We-uh-well we couldn’t afford a hospital birth.”

May reached out to lay and hand on his arm, trying to offer some comfort. He turned wary eyes on her.

“What are your names?” May asked, wanting to connect.

“I’m Andrew,” he told her in a shaky voice, “and that’s Lila,” he motioned, “we're married. She's my wife.”

May nodded, gripping his hand. Together they watched Chimney place an oxygen mask over Lila's face, while Hen lifted the blankets to find out how imminent the baby’s birth was. The grim smile she turned on May and Andrew wasn’t reassuring.

“I can see your baby's head,” she said, “but your wife is bleeding a lot. We need to deliver before we transport. Then, hopefully, we can control the bleeding. Be ready to move.” Hen gave May a meaningful look that spoke volumes.

Then Chimney was radioing for another ambulance, Hen was urging the exhausted mom to push and push hard, and Andrew raced to her side while May stayed rooted to the spot. The mood in the room was far from joyful anticipation, and all she could do was stare wide-eyed, while Hen guided the baby straight from its mother’s womb, into the world. There was no cry as Hen handed the newborn off to Chim, and started grabbing up all the padding she could to stem the flow of blood that followed.

May felt frozen, but when Hen summoned her she went, pulling on gloves, holding pressure, doing exactly what she was told, trying not to think. Another ambulance arrived and whisked the baby away, Lila was transferred carefully to the stretcher, and the whole ambulance ride was Hen trying desperately to revive their patient, while Chim drove as fast as he could, lights and sirens blaring.

“I’m sorry May,” Hen said softly, perching beside her on the back of the rig, still parked in the emergency bay. “You shouldn’t have had to see that, and I certainly shouldn’t have asked you to help.”

May shook her head. She wasn’t upset about that. She was only upset that the world could be so harsh, and that immeasurable suffering went unnoticed everyday. She sure didn’t notice. Not really. Not even from her dispatch job.

“What if they'd been in a hospital?” May asked, throat tight.

Hen sighed, and wrapped an arm around May's shoulders. “Things might have been different. They might have still gone wrong. Pre natal care would have helped. The placenta attached low. The doctors could have done a C-section.”

May held back tears because she wasn’t a child. She came on this ride along to learn the job, and this was the job.

“They both could have lived?” She asked, meeting Hen's eyes, daring her to tell the whole truth.

“There's a good chance.” Hen told her, frowning. “There are free clinics and county hospitals. They should have found help.”

May shook her head angrily. “Andrew said their families wouldn’t even help. How were they supposed to know they could count on strangers?!”

Hen hugged her close for a minute. “May, in this job there are going to be times, lots of times, when you just can’t make sense of the things you see. All you can do is dwell on the good calls, and let the bad ones go.”

“I don’t want this job!” May cried adamantly, burrowing closer to Hen.

“That’s fair,” Hen said, stroking her hair. “That’s totally fair.”

The last call they attended, after May assured Hen and Chimney she could continue, was something of a tonic.

It came from an older lady who lived in a pretty little house surrounded by beautiful, well-tended gardens. She had fallen and called 9-1-1, reluctantly, from the cell phone her daughter bought and made her carry. May braced herself to see this woman, who clearly took such pride in her home, taken to hospital, then straight from there to some nursing home, where she would be stuck while all her plants died.

Hen knelt down next to the embarrassed woman to check vitals, while Chim positioned himself on the other side. May got the impression they'd done this before.

“Can you tell me your name?” Hen asked, satisfied that pulse and respirations were in normal range.

The woman smiled apologetically up at all of them. “It’s Eloise, but you know that,” she gave a deep sigh. “I know the country, the date, the city, and the President too. I’m really ok. It's just my arthritis…makes it impossible to get up once I’m so far down, if you know what I mean.”

May could see it. Eloise had toppled into one of her garden beds, a fairly soft landing, but the raised edge made getting up a challenge.

Hen and Chimney had no problem getting the tiny woman up and back inside the house, once they were satisfied she had no serious injuries. She refused transport to the hospital, kindly, but had a few requests.

“You folks can make yourselves comfortable,” she told them, “lots to eat in the fridge. I know you’re busy but I’m hoping you can open my pill bottles for me…my hands don’t want to do it anymore.”

Chimney picked up the bottles on the table one by one, checking the labels, and opening the lids.

“El, how long has it been since you took your pills?” He asked gently, motioning for May to get a glass of water.

“Just a few days,” she answered quickly, eyes downcast. “I’d hate for anyone to think I cant manage on my own. I do just fine! It's the finicky things is all. Like these bottles.”

May handed over the glass of water, and Hen joined them with a sandwich she had thrown together.

“Eat something because those pills can make you dizzy if you don’t,” Hen advised, “and El, the pharmacy will put your pills in a blister pack. Something easy to open. I’ll call right now,” Hen told her, pulling out her phone.

Eloise looked surprised and grateful. She didn’t say anything though, turning eyes on May who was taking in the tidy house with it's whimsical décor.

“Your home is really beautiful,” May said sincerely, “you must like to decorate.”

Eloise’s house was not the blast from the past many senior's homes were. It was a showcase of her life, from the photo's on the wall and travel memento's, to the stylish but comfortable furniture, covered in plush throws, and colorful cushions.

“I Iike to buy things,” Eloise chuckled, “you have to be nice to yourself. Took me awhile to learn that, but it’s good advice. Helps if your bastard of a husband dies and leaves you all his money too!”

May, and Hen who had finished her phone call, both laughed along with her at that, while Chimney shook his head.

“Wow, El, what are you teaching this girl?”

That only made her grin wickedly. “Oh, if she keeps coming back I can teach her all the good stuff!” Eloise pinned May with a interested gaze. “Seriously, come on back. Visit with me. I can teach you piano, gardening, or better yet to how to make a man-"

“Whoa there!” Hen cut her off, thoroughly amused. “I’m not sure May is ready for all your trade secrets yet, El.”

Eloise was determined though, wagging a finger at them all. “Sooner she learns the better! I’ll tell you, May is it? You can’t be afraid to fail. That fear kept me in a worthless marriage for far too long! If you don’t succeed at one thing, that’s no proof you won’t be good at the next. Remember that! It's why I’m a gardener, piano player, seamstress, and not particularly good at any of them!”

El cackled with good humor, but May’s mind went instantly to school, particularly her reluctance to go, and she wondered if she was so easy to read. Slowly, she nodded.

“So? Pick a day. Come back and see me.” The woman insisted, face all lit up so that May couldn’t help smiling back at her.

“I’m free this weekend,” she offered, genuinely curious about what this lady might have to offer.

“That’ll do fine,” Eloise winked at her, “and don’t bring these two. They're alright, but I see them so often it's getting dull.”

By the time they had dragged themselves back to the 118 station house, cleaned and restocked the rig, May felt wrung out. It had been a long day with some terrible low's, and though May wasn’t sorry she'd rode along, she knew she was not a paramedic in the making.

“How was it?” Bobby asked, as May, Hen and Chim, joined the crew at the table for dinner. “Learn something new?”

“Oh, plenty!” May returned truthfully, glancing at all the faces around the table. She admired them, more than ever, and she respected their courage and resilience. Someday she hoped that she would have the same fortitude, but for today, she was being kind to herself and admitting that she did not yet. “It was really something,” was all she said though.

“We had some tough calls, but May powered through,” Chimney told everyone. “She should be proud.”

“That’s for sure,” Hen chimed in, snatching the dinner rolls from her partner. “Best ride along we've ever had.”

Bobby beamed, clapping his hands together. “Excellent news! Maybe we can add her to the 118 family? After some training of course.”

May held up her hands to ward off the very idea. “Oh, no thanks Bobby,” she said, shaking her head wildly, “I mean I got the message with Eloise, that not all calls are bad, and there is a lot of good to be done…I assume you guys keep that lady in her home? Showing up whenever she calls? I’m even looking forward to visiting with her, but even if helping people is for me, the paramedic life is not! I’ll find another way. I’m going to open that course catalogue from USC and figure it out. I promise.”

There was silence and May had a moment to worry her speech had offended the whole team…but then they all burst into laughter. Eventually, May joined in.

“Good to hear,” Bobby said, dipping his head toward her.

“Sky's the limit, May,” Hen chimed in.

“Seconded!” Chimney added.

“Good luck May!” They all cheered, making her blush gratefully.

[starsweepersims]

Get to Know Me- Sims Style

@petrolstationflowers tagged me so here we go!

What’s your favorite Sims death?

Oooh I think Jellybean. It’s rare but it’s kinda fun. Other than that I ‘like’ the animal deaths in that the animations are cute even though it makes me so sad. :c

Alpha CC or MaxisMatch?

Maxis Match.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Nope! Not my taste to edit that sort of thing.

Do you move objects?

I do, especially decorative stuff.

Favourite Mod?

Ohhh I’m not sure! It changes frequently, but I think currently it’d be good ol StoryProgression.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

In 3 it’d be Late Night, because I got the double pack.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing

aLive.

Who’s your favourite sim that you’ve made?

Oh I’ve not posted her, but my very first sim I ever made in 3 was a woman named Lilian, and her adoptive daughter Leera was by far my favorite, even to this day. I should remake her sometime.

Have you made a simself?

I have, but they’re old. And then I learned I’m faceblind, so they probably looked nothing like me.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

In 3, I think they have a nice black tone. In 4 I’m a big fan of the firetruck red.

Favorite EA hair?

Good question, but I know it’s from Island Paradise. Sort of a bun with two side pieces?

Favorite life stage?

I’d say teens! They start really showing personality at that stage, and has a lot of chance for fun storylines.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

A mix! I enjoy my gameplay, but whenever I’m in the mood to build I build a lot!

Are you a CC creator?

Sadly no. :c

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

Not really, but I would definitely like to! I have some friends who also have a simblr though, who I’ll be tagging later on.

Do you have any sims merch?

Nope.

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

I’ve tried, and I have failed.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

Definitely have focused more on family gameplay, and I now play with lifespans. I’ve also been doing challenges recently which has really helped curb boredom.

What’s your origin id?

RIP Origin (i can’t remember)

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

I think @catlover800, who was one of my driving forces for me joining simblr, will always have a special place in my heart. I don’t think I could choose a single person otherwise.

How long have you had simblr?

My previous ones...I’d say 2017 was when I started, but it was deleted because of anxiety.

How do you edit your pictures?

Paint.net! Up contrast, up brightness, vibrancy filter.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite?

I’d say World Adventure or Island Paradise!

I tag @dragonplumbobs and @papermint-airplane if they’d like to do it!