#this is one message of two from this person fyi

[soupsnakessss]

Tbh I know the truth (he's not the father lol) but just because I like to check in with this page now and then... Mindy's daughter knows how to read and write now. You think she calls him "dad" but can clearly see this cake says Uncle B? You don't think that would be confusing to the point of abusive to her own child?

I thought my post was pretty clear. I pointed out all of the old sightings from various people and made sure to specify that at this point in time, those are pretty old from 2 years ago. I said there hasn’t been any new sightings where anyone has overheard them. And then I also pointed out that Mindy’s referred to him as uncle in the past. Where in all of that did I say that I currently think Kit currently calls him dad? I listed everything about this subject and left it for everyone to come up with their own conclusion. So it seems like your conclusion not mine, is that Kit is calling him dad. That’s backed up by the fact that even though you’re telling me you know he isn’t, here you are arguing with me and loudly showing your insecurity on this subject.

I think you’re the anon I was talking about being obsessed with BJ and now you’re mad at how I described you.

[unsuperingyournatural]

just for one perfect day

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader / Jensen Ackles x Actress!Reader <platonic>

continuation of worth a little ridiculous

not making digs at anyone fyi, just telling a story

dividers @saradika-graphics

The hotel suite is beautiful—soft golds and warm creams, everything plush and muted and upscale—but you’ve barely noticed any of it. Not since Jensen dropped the invite with that familiar boyish grin and hopeful glint in his eye.

“C’mon,” he’d said a few days before the flight out to Rome, catching you between takes on set and slinging his arm around your shoulder with that familiar smirk. “Be my buffer on Saturday, would ya? It’s either that or I crash and burn alone on stage while Misha live-tweets my meltdown.”

You’d laughed, at first. Teased him. Asked if he was really that scared of a solo panel.

“Terrified,” he’d said with faux-seriousness, eyes twinkling. “You’re basically the only person who can wrangle me without breaking a sweat. Come on, you’re already doing Friday—Saturday’ll be a blast. I’ll even behave. Ish.”

Why not, indeed.

It’s your first JIBcon. Your first convention tied to the SPN sequel movie. You’re already set to do a Friday panel with Kim Rhodes and Brianna Buckmaster—something you’re genuinely excited for.

But Jared had to bow out last-minute due to illness, and now Jensen’s trying to reconfigure the weekend lineup. You’ve already agreed to do Sunday’s panel with him and Misha.

You’re not exactly thrilled about it. Misha’s sense of humor on stage isn’t really your thing—too chaotic, too self-aware in that ‘look how weird I am’ way that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

Saturday is your one free day. And Jensen wants you to spend it with him on stage. He’d even offered to show you around Rome before the con kicked off—your first time in the city, and he’d been eager to play tour guide. Which he did, the first afternoon you arrived. You’d smiled through it, grateful for the company, but your phone buzzed with a message from Pedro not long after: So you’re sightseeing with him?

Pedro hadn’t said anything else, not outright. But the silence that followed made it clear he wasn’t thrilled. Not because he was jealous—he trusted you completely and knew your relationship with Jensen was exactly what it looked like: close, comfortable, and entirely platonic—but because he’d wanted to take you around Rome himself. You’d told him it was probably for the best, considering SPN fans were already arriving for JIB and you two risked being spotted.

He didn’t argue.

But he didn’t like it either. Not just because he’d wanted the time with you, but because he knew how much you loved Rome’s ancient history. He’d wanted to be the one to walk you through the ruins, to hear you talk about gladiators and emperors with that light in your eyes. He knew how much you loved the first Gladiator film, how you’d once called it one of the movies that made you fall in love with storytelling—and how stupid-giddy you’d been the night you heard he was cast as General Marcus Acacius in the sequel.

He wanted to give you that experience. For him to be the one beside you while you fell in love with the city.

And instead, it was Jensen.

That had stung more than Pedro let on. He hadn’t argued when you told him how the weekend would play out—that Saturday was your only window. Just nodded, maybe asked what time you’d be free again, and shifted the conversation. But you’d felt the weight of it. The pause. The silence that stretched just a little too long.

Plans Pedro made sure to carve out between press events—flying in from somewhere nearby in Europe just for this. Because he knew how much you needed the break. Because he knew how much you needed him.

A quiet day. No press. No cameras. Just a train ride to Florence and back with the man who knows what makes your heart tick.

Saturday is your one free day. And it’s already spoken for.

You’d tried to let Jensen down gently.

“Saturday’s kinda my day,” you’d said, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie.

Jensen’s grin faltered. Just slightly. But you saw it. You felt it.

“Oh,” he said, drawing it out. “Okay. Big plans or just hiding from fans in a blackout-curtained room with room service?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Something like that.”

He didn’t press, exactly. But something behind his eyes flickered. Not quite hurt. But close. It was the disappointment that always hit worse than anger with Jensen. He’d just nodded, patted your back, and said, “Alright. No pressure. We’ll make it work.”

Now you’re in your suite, pacing barefoot across the rug, checking the time again. The soft whir of the minibar and distant hum of Rome traffic outside the window do little to settle your nerves. Pedro’s flight should’ve landed half an hour ago. You’ve checked three times to make sure your phone didn’t miss a buzz.

Your bag is packed. Mostly. The essentials tossed in with little ceremony—your worn black hoodie, sunglasses, the dress Pedro likes. He doesn’t know you brought it. You kind of want to surprise him with it at dinner. Or maybe on the balcony of the room you had reserved.

You stop pacing only when your phone buzzes against the table.

[Pedro 🐻]: Just landed. Passport guy looked at me like I was hiding a weapon. Told him I was. My charm. He did not laugh.

You snort, pressing a hand to your mouth like it’ll hide the smile already spreading across your face.

[You]: Maybe he just hates handsome men. Come find me already.

The reply is instant.

[Pedro 🐻]: On my way. Don’t move. Unless it’s to pack. Or open the door when I knock.

You set the phone down but don’t move away from it. Can’t. Your body feels like it’s buzzing with static, thrumming in time with the rush of anticipation. You’re still coming down from the guilt of disappointing Jensen. Still holding onto the way his voice dipped just slightly when you turned him down.

But this? This is yours.

You glance at the door. He’ll be here soon.

One day. One perfect day. No handlers. No eyes. No secrets.

Just Pedro.

The knock is soft but purposeful. Three quick taps, a beat, then one more. You’re already halfway to the door before your brain catches up with your body.

When you open it, he’s there. Ball cap pulled low, hoodie unzipped over a plain white tee, travel-wrinkled but still managing to look like he stepped out of a campaign ad for 'Most Huggable Man Alive.'

He grins the second he sees you. “You moved.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s useless—you’re already smiling like an idiot. “Only to open the door.”

Pedro doesn’t wait. He steps in, wraps his arms around you, and pulls you in tight. One hand curves around the back of your head like he’s grounding both of you.

“You smell like my favorite airport lounge,” you murmur into his chest.

He laughs, low and real. “Sexy.”

You lean back to look at him. “You made it.”

He nods, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Told you I would. Only had one day to spare, and there wasn’t a single version of it that didn’t end with me showing up here.”

You pull him in again, your body fitting to his like you’ve been holding space for him all week.

Then his hand finds your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His eyes search yours for the briefest moment—checking, asking—and when you nod, just slightly, he kisses you.

It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s steady, grounding, like he’s been waiting all week to do it right. Like he’s home.

And you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding in—days of anticipation, the ache of keeping it all quiet, the comfort of finally, finally, being near him again.

And just like that, the tension that’s been hanging over your shoulders since Jensen asked you that damn question… lifts.

You have today.

Just today.

But it’s enough.

The green room is loud enough to keep you present but quiet enough to let your mind wander. It’s Sunday. The final stretch.

You’re seated near the back wall, sipping from a lukewarm bottle of water while Misha makes some joke about chicken costumes to the two volunteers at the table beside him. You’re not listening. Not really. Your focus is somewhere else entirely.

Florence.

Just yesterday, you were walking cobbled streets, the breeze catching your hair while Pedro pointed out street art and old carvings like he’d studied them just for you. His hand never left yours. He bought you a gelato even though you said you didn’t want one—and then teased you when you kept stealing bites of his. You hadn’t had the heart to tell him that Jensen had bought you your first gelato just days earlier during that walk through Rome, back when he insisted on playing tour guide. That had been sweet, and the gelato had been good, even delightful at the time.

But this? This one in Florence, handed to you with Pedro’s tired smile and gentle hand at your back—it tasted better. Felt better. The memory lingered deeper. Nothing about your afternoon with Jensen compared to that single, sunlit hour beside Pedro on a quiet Florentine street.

You’d surprised him in the hotel room just before dinner, stepping out in that dress he loved—the one you knew would keep his eyes locked on you for the rest of the night. He’d gone quiet for a second. Not just stunned. Moved. Then he crossed the room and kissed you like you were the only thing in the world worth holding onto.

Dinner had been soft conversation and shared wine, followed by a quiet walk back through the city lit up by golden street lamps. You remember the weight of his arm around your shoulders. The way he looked at you like the whole world had finally slowed down.

Later, he fell asleep with you tucked into his chest, his fingers tangled in your hair.

You smile faintly to yourself.

And then the smile fades.

You miss him. Already.

You pull your phone out, thumb hovering over his last message. It came in just a couple of hours ago:

[Pedro 🐻]: I keep thinking about last night. About how you looked in that dress. About how it felt holding you while you drifted off, like the whole world got quiet just for us. One day wasn’t enough. I miss you already.

Short. Sweet. But the kind that leaves your chest aching.

You want to reply. You want to tell him how perfect yesterday was. That you miss him too. That the second you’re done with all this, you’ll call him and maybe fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

But you’re stuck.

You can’t find the words. You don’t want to rush it.

Just as your thumb starts typing, the door opens and Jensen steps in. “Alright, Misha,” he says with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re up.”

Misha rises dramatically, throwing both hands in the air. “Let’s go make it weird.”

Jensen chuckles and glances at you. “See you in a few.”

You nod, give him a little wave. Then you hear it: the opening notes of "Carry On My Wayward Son" playing faintly through the speakers in the hall. Their cue.

Jensen and Misha disappear.

You glance down at your phone again. The moment’s gone. That quiet, tender mood is drowned out by the backstage buzz. You’re distracted now, and whatever you send Pedro deserves more than a half-present thought.

You close the message thread. Lock the screen. Exhale.

Time to finish the job.

Across the continent, Pedro slides into the back of a black SUV waiting outside Arrivals. He exhales as the door shuts behind him, eyes already dragging toward his phone.

No new messages.

The last two messages still sit open. The first—raw and heartfelt—he’d sent that morning before you would’ve woken up, and you read it almost immediately. The second, sent just after his plane landed, was a quick update, just like you’d asked him to send. That one still sits unread.

[Pedro]: Just landed. Plane was delayed. Exhausted but safe. Hope your panel goes well. Text me after?

Read.

But no reply.

He swipes the thread closed with his thumb, frowning to himself as the driver pulls away.

He tells himself you're busy. On stage. That you'll text when it’s over.

But the silence sits wrong.

It’s not about jealousy. He trusts you. And he knows your friendship with Jensen is just that—friendship. But the comment you made back in Rome—about not being seen together because of fans—still hasn’t left him. It’s been two months since he ducked into your bedroom to avoid being spotted by Jensen. Two months since he told you how that made him feel.

And you still said it.

He’d wanted to talk to you about it—about how that line sat wrong in his chest—but you only had one day. One perfect, borrowed day. And it hadn’t felt like the time to bring something heavy into it. Not when you were smiling like that. Not when you had so little of it to yourselves.

He gets it. You value privacy. So does he. But there’s a difference between keeping something sacred and keeping someone hidden.

Pedro sighs and leans his head back against the seat. He’ll get through the next commitment. He always does.

Just like you're doing now.

Work mode. You’re both in it.

But that quiet voice in the back of his mind—the one that wonders if maybe you're not ready—won’t shut up.

The panel is exactly what you expected it to be.

You’re seated next to Misha who sites in between you and Jensen onstage, the lights bright, the crowd loud, the energy dialed up to ten. You hold your own well enough—smiling, nodding, tossing out the occasional laugh—but your posture is too straight. Your hands clench in your lap when you’re not consciously relaxing them. You knew this would happen. Misha is, unsurprisingly, being extra.

He keeps going off-script with stories, tossing out weird hypotheticals, and trying to get a rise out of Jensen—and while Jensen plays along, your presence on stage seems to ground it just enough to keep it from spiraling into full chaos. Still, the smile on your face is forced more often than it’s not. And part of your brain isn’t even in the room.

It’s still in Florence. With Pedro.

You blink back to the moment only when you hear your name—well, not your name. His.

“Pedro Pascal?” Misha says, grinning as he turns toward Jensen. “Is that who we’re talking about?”

A fan had just asked Jensen if he was going to watch the second season of The Last of Us and whether he’d want to work with Pedro someday. The crowd buzzed with excitement at the mention of the name, and you felt the ground shift beneath your feet.

Before Jensen can answer, Misha spins toward the mic like he’s been waiting all day to pounce.

“Pedro Pascal? Oh man. Do you know how many fans have brought giant headshots of him to photo ops with me? Full-size. Like, they print it out at a FedEx Office and march in like it’s a cardboard boyfriend.” He gestures wildly, earning laughter from the crowd.

“I once had to pose like I was whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And—true story—someone made me hold up a tiny sign under his chin that said ‘Pedro Pascal is my daddy.’ I mean, who am I to refuse art?”

The audience bursts into laughter. Even Jensen chuckles.

You fake a laugh, trying not to visibly flinch.

Jensen picks up the thread, clearly enjoying the bit. “I think I saw him once at my gym—remember?” he turns to you, eyes lit up. “We were leaving and we saw him?”

You freeze. Your heart stops. Eyes go wide for a split second before you school your features into something calm.

Every eye turns to you—including Jensen’s and Misha’s.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “I remember.”

Jensen grins. “Dude was dialed in. We both said it, right? He had to be training for Avengers or something.”

You bite your lip, nervously shifting in your seat. “Yep. Yeah. He was… working hard.”

Misha cackles at your delivery. Jensen chuckles, glancing out at the crowd before swinging his gaze back to you with a grin. “See? The Pedro Pascal effect.”

The fans erupt. Jensen laughs too, and gives you a quick smile—kind, almost apologetic. He jumps back in, answering the Last of Us question properly and pivoting the conversation.

The rest of the panel moves quickly. You speak when necessary but let the guys take the lead, especially when the fans eat up their dynamic.

When it finally wraps, you’re the first one offstage, ducking backstage with a wave and a smile that fades the second the panel room is behind you.

You make a beeline for the green room. You’re relieved. Exhausted. And a little on edge.

Jensen catches up a moment later, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired. Think the jet lag’s finally catching up.”

He studies you for a beat, clearly not buying it. But he nods and presses a kiss to the side of your head anyway. “One more, sweetheart, and then you can sleep it off at the hotel.”

You give him a tired smile and he squeezes your shoulder before drifting off to chat with Misha, Jason Manns, and Rob Benedict across the room.

You take the opportunity to check your phone. There it is—Pedro’s second text:

[Pedro 🐻]: Just landed. Plane was delayed. Exhausted but safe. Hope your panel goes well. Text me after?

Your chest tightens. You should’ve answered earlier.

You settle into a quiet corner of the room and finally type out your response—not just to his update, but to the message from earlier that’s been weighing on your heart all day.

[You]: I’ve been thinking about last night too. And this morning. And everything in between. One day wasn’t enough, but it gave me more than I knew I needed. You made it feel like time slowed down and yesterday was like the world paused just for us. I’ve never wanted to rewind time so badly just to live through the same day again. I really miss you. And I’m glad you're safe.

You’re about to switch to another app when the typing bubble appears.

Your heart stutters.

[Pedro 🐻]: Stop. You’re gonna make me fly back.

You smile. A real one this time. And then:

[Pedro 🐻]: Miss you too, amor. Two weeks. I’m counting every minute.

You stare at the message for a long time. Let it soak in.

If you didn’t have to go back to set immediately, you’d fly to him in a heartbeat.

But you remind yourself—you’ll see him again soon.

Two weeks. It’s going to feel like forever.

But it’s not.

It’s not.

The notification chimes just as Make-Up and Hair are finishing their final touches. Pedro’s eyes flick down to his phone, expecting a calendar ping or a last-minute schedule update.

But it’s not that.

It’s you.

[You]: I’ve been thinking about last night too. And this morning. And everything in between. One day wasn’t enough, but it gave me more than I knew I needed. You made it feel like time slowed down and yesterday was like the world paused just for us. I’ve never wanted to rewind time so badly just to live through the same day again. I really miss you. And I’m glad you're safe.

The message hits him like warmth in the chest. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, lips tugging into a quiet smile. That ache? The one that had been gnawing at him since the flight? It softens.

[Pedro]: Stop. You’re gonna make me fly back.

A pause.

Then:

[Pedro]: Miss you too, amor. Two weeks. I’m counting every minute.

He locks the screen gently, careful with the moment. Like it’s something that deserves to be held onto. The girls working on him notice the shift in his mood—his shoulders a little looser, the faint glint of something warm behind his eyes—and one of them teases him lightly. He jokes back, something about needing all the glam help he can get after a red-eye.

His co-star leans in from the next chair, phone outstretched with a dumb meme, and Pedro lets out a low laugh, grateful for the distraction. But the feeling stays.

Once the team clears out, and the next person shuffles paperwork at the door, Pedro unlocks his phone again. No reply. Not yet. But he didn’t expect one. You’re likely running on fumes by now, dragging through the last leg of the con.

He opens his photos. Quietly. Purposely.

Florence.

The album isn’t named. It doesn’t need to be. It’s just for him.

You weren’t big on selfies. Never had been. But you let him take a few. He flips to the one that always hits him first—you kissing his cheek, your eyes closed, his grin uncontainable. It had been warm that afternoon, the sun sinking golden behind the rooftops. You had to tiptoe to reach him, and he remembers the sound of your laugh as he snapped the shot.

Then there’s the dress.

The dress.

He didn’t stand a chance when you stepped out of the hotel bathroom in it. You’d packed it without telling him, and the second he saw you, the rest of the night was a blur of touch and breath and murmured promises. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself. Still can’t, when he thinks about it.

A voice cuts in.

“First interviewer’s on their way in,” someone calls from the door.

Pedro silences his phone, locks it, hands it off to an assistant, and sits up straight with a practiced smile.

He shakes the interviewer’s hand. Fist bumps his co-star encouragingly. Lets the conversation carry him.

But underneath the charm, he’s counting hours.

Two weeks. It’s not forever.

But knowing you’ll be an ocean away by tomorrow makes every hour feel just a little heavier.

amor - love

[zoeoe-sims]

Flower Arranging Mod V2.0 Testing!

Took a little longer than expected after my last post but v2 of the flower arranging mod is here! Because it's been so long since the last released version, as well as when I actually worked on the bulk of this update, I would really appreciate some people testing it out before I upload it officially.

Just FYI, this post isn't rebloggable because I don't want this testing version to be spread around too much, just in case changes need to made for the official v2.0 and it causes confusion.

More information about the update and for those who want to test it below.

Key Features:

Better flower arrangement selection menu. Instead of the insanely large pie menu, you select an arrangement from a dialogue window. You can reorder them, filter by flower, and view either all learnt arrangements or only available ones. You can even see a thumbnail of the arrangement, as well as what flowers are required and what you have already!

More effects from arrangements. Arrangements now have categories (Basic, Joy, Romance, Wedding, Funeral, Insult) and sims will react differently to them (new moodlets) depending on the type and their personality.

Scenting arrangements. If you figure out the requirements, sims can change the properties of arrangements to make them be fresher for longer, change their category, or provide life-giving/deathly effects!

Skill Journal Additions. You can track your stats, and complete two skill challenges for flower arranging perks.

Things that are not there (not that important, skip paragraph if you don't care :p):

Like I mentioned in my last post about it, in order to get this update out of WIP purgatory I had to not get caught up in too many features big or small. This includes having an autonomous version of the interaction, and some things that don't work quite as polished as I'd like. I've also had a few comments/messages on things like selling the arrangements in a business situation, and an issue with the arrangement ending up in a family inventory, as well as other random things - these are things I'd like to look into but it probably won't be for a while. I do plan on going through the MTS comments, and any messages people have sent me with issues/ideas so I can make a list and address them when I work on this mod further. If you have already messaged or commented about something, please feel free to do so again to make sure I don't miss it. Also custom dreams and self employed career - I started working on both these things and they would be so cool but that's like v3.0 so...

Info for Testers:

Because it's a big update, I recommend testers make a backup of your save just in case there's an issue, particularly with replacing an older version of the mod and even more so if you don't have nraas error trap. And make sure to delete your scriptCache!

I didn't come across any big problems, but I also didn't have a very established flower arranging situation going on. If you do, it would actually be helpful to know your experience with arrangements made pre-update and anything else that might be affected.

Finally, I don't want to spoil anything for people who want to explore the special scented arrangements feature organically which is why I didn't go into detail about it, but if you want to just be told how everything works so you can test it more directly, let me know.

Testing version of flower arranging 2.0 here (SFS)

Thank you!

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Mr. and Mrs.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (18+)

In celebration of @oneforthemunny 's one-derful year, I wrote this fic inspired by this prompt. This fic is a fic of two halves, with an initial cute wedding day and then a slightly smuttier time in the honeymoon suit after the reception.

another highly requested, is a wedding. i love weddings and my guilty pleasure is wedding fics idk why, so give me that. you can follow the lore if they have it, or do whatever you want! proposal, ceremony, honeymoon- honestly whichever you want! where does it happen? what’s the details? who’s there? if you put vows i’m gonna sob so just fyi on that.

Word Count:2,490 (oops!)

Warnings:Cutesy wedding day fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F Rec), Missionary position, Dirty talk, I think that's it unless I'm forgetting something; in which case feel free to shoot me a message so I can tag it.

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

Eddie wasn't usually a nervous person. He was usually a loud, boisterous and confident person. That was until today. The big day. His wedding day.

He stood at the end of that altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, freshly pressed white shirt and tie, with the nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach. When he thinks back to his younger years, he could never have imagined that something like this would be in his future. 

Steve takes notice of how Eddie nervously fiddles with his hands, a habit he’s got into whenever things would get too much for him. He would always end up twisting his clunky metal rings around his fingers. Although for his big day he had removed all his precious rings, insisting that the only ring he wanted on his finger today was his wedding band. Nevertheless his nervous habit didn’t leave him, as he fiddled his fingers around his non-existent rings.

Taking his duties as his best man seriously, Steve takes a moment to offer a calming pat on his shoulder, helping to ground the jangled groom.

“You love her, she loves you, don't sweat it, man. You've got this.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Eddie sighs, before taking one more nerve-calming breath.

The music starts up, and everyone in the church stands to look to you, 

You look like a vision in white, with delicate layers of lace, and tulle as you grace down the aisle towards him, a bouquet of pristine white roses and lilies in hand.

The music slows to a stop as you stand in front of him. His heart is beating so fast in his chest he wonders if you can hear it too.

“Y-you look beautiful.” Eddie stumbles over his words. He thought he would be so cool in this moment, but the moment he sees your face he can’t help the tears that gather in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Handsome.” you smile, reaching up to gently wipe away the tears from his eyes.

You take his hand in yours as you both turn to stand in front of the priest, who is ready to conduct the ceremony.

“Friends and family, we are all gathered here today to witness the union of Edward Theodore Munson and Y/N L/N,” the priest smiles as he gestures to each of you. “The happy couple have chosen to write their own vows, so please join me helping to celebrate their love for each other.”

“Sweetheart, I couldn't believe my luck that when I asked you out all those years ago, you said yes. Just from that one small date, I knew that I never wanted you out of my life, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re an amazing person, and everyday I fall in love with you a little bit more. I know I may not be the perfect man, but you make me want to be a better man, and everyday I try hard to do my best by you. Waking up to your face makes my world a little brighter every time and I promise to stand by you, and to love you with every last beat of my heart.” Eddie finishes with a soft smile playing at his lips.

You feel your heart warming at Eddie’s vows, he always had a way with words, and it’s no surprise to you that his vows were nothing short of heart-meltingly romantic.

“My dear Eddie, you are not only the love of my life, but more importantly than that you are my best friend, and getting to stand with you today in front of all our friends and family and tell you how much you mean to me is something that I will cherish forever. You make me feel so safe and loved, and I can only hope that I make you feel the same way. I promise to always be there for you and support you, and I can’t wait to continue making memories with you.” 

You manage to get through your vows without breaking down in floods of tears, as you smile brightly at your soon-to-be-husband.

“Now it is time to exchange rings.” the priest voices to everyone. 

Steve hands over the ring to Eddie as the priest tells Eddie to repeat after him.

“I, Edward Theodore Munson, take you Y/N L/N, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

Nancy hands you the ring she’d been holding for you, then the priest turns to you, to read you the same vows for you to repeat.

“I, Y/N L/N, take you, Edward Theodore Munson, to be my Husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.”

You each slide the wedding band on each other’s ring finger as the priest speaks once more.

“You have now exchanged rings. These rings are a symbol of your commitment, love and devotion to each other, and serve as a reminder to honour the vows you have declared in this church. It now gives me great pleasure to pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Eddie smiles brightly before leaning close to kiss you sweetly once and then winding one hand around your waist and the other to cradle your head as he dips you into another heated kiss.

You laugh into the kiss, vaguely registering the flash of Jonathan’s camera going off, perfectly capturing the moment.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist you.” Eddie smirks at you.

Yeah, you had definitely made the right choice. This was the dork you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

You and Eddie stumble into your hotel room in a fit of giggles after enjoying a few glasses of champagne at your wedding reception. The party had long been finished now, with everyone making their way home, and you and Eddie staying the night in the hotel’s honeymoon suite.

“I can’t believe it, we literally just got married..like that’s a thing we just did!” you babble in an excited breath.

“I know! And I can’t believe I get to call you my wife!” Eddie cheers as he picks you up and spins around with you in his arms and placing you back down with a kiss to your lips.

You turn your back to Eddie for a moment before looking at him from over your shoulder. His dark curls have been set free from their bun, as they fall around his shoulders. The tie around his neck has been loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. 

“Unzip me?” You ask him, your voice dripping with a sultry tone.

Eddie wastes no time in making his way over to you as fingers work to slowly drag the zipper of your wedding dress down your back, his lips kissing softly against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You step out of your dress, leaving yourself in the floral, white, lacy lingerie that you had picked out especially for tonight.

Eddie gives a cheeky wolf-whistle of appreciation as you twirl around, as make yourself comfortable on the King-sized bed. 

Eddie feels his cock kick up in anticipation for what was to come.

“You gonna join me or what, Mr. Munson?” You tease with a light breathy chuckle.

In a flash Eddie is stripping off, throwing his suit jacket on the back of a chair, until only his boxers remain. The material doing very little to hide his straining erection. 

“Who would I be if I kept my wife waiting?” He smiles as he steps closer to the bed, before leaning in to kiss his lips against your ankle, and trailing his kisses up your legs, and prying your thighs open to place kisses on the inside of your thighs.

His fingers hook themselves in the waistband of your panties a smirk.

You quickly reach up behind your back to unclasp your bra as his fingers teases the elastic of your panties.

“As lovely as these are, they've got to go.” he murmurs, placing one more kiss to the soft skin of your thighs before dragging the lace down your legs.

“There she is. My pretty girl..” Eddie almost purrs out as he’s greeted by the sight of your pussy. 

He makes himself comfortable, lying down on the bed between the spread of your thighs.

“Can I taste you, Sweetheart?” He asks oh so innocently, his big brown eyes sparkling with a cheeky glint as he looks up at you.

Your shy nod of your head and little whine of ‘please’ is all the go-ahead that Eddie needed before he was dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking it between his plump lips.

His tongue laps at your dripping wetness, eager to taste and to please you.

He gently slips one of his dexterous, guitarist's fingers inside your wet heat and begins to work in and out of you at a leisurely pace, flicking his tongue over your clit, enjoying the mewling whines that fall from your lips.

“Eddie…please..” you whine as you tug your fingers into his dark curls.

Eddie pulls away from you, his lips glossy with your wetness.

“Please what, Sweetheart? Can’t give it to you unless you tell me what you want.” he teases with a smile.

“Want you to make me cum..please..” you plead as you shamelessly try to grind your hips against his face. 

“Well, when you ask me so sweetly like that, it would be a crime to deny you.” he purrs before going back in to attach his lips around your clit, making sure to rub against that spot inside you that has you squeezing so tightly around his finger. 

He knows you're close, he knows your body as well as anything, and those tell-tale breathy moans that fall from your lips let him know just how badly you need it.

“That's it..there's my pretty girl, cum for me, sweetheart.”

It didn't take very much more than a few passes of Eddie's tongue lapping at your dripping cunt and his fingers hitting inside you just right before you were falling over the edge of pleasure with a wet gush. Squirting around fingers as his tongue teases your pussy gently to help you ride out your high.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from your glistening cunt once more, a lazy smirk gracing his face.

“You taste amazing as always, Mrs. Munson.” he smiles, enjoying the way that your new title just rolls off his tongue so perfectly. Like you were always meant to be his wife. Like you were always meant to be Mrs. Munson.

“Come up here, Eddie, I just wanna feel you, please..” you tell him as you urge him up from between your thighs. He takes a moment to free himself of the tight constraints of his boxers, letting his cock slap up against the trail of fuzzy hair below his navel.

He crawls his way up your body, his lips continuing to explore and kiss every soft inch of exposed skin. His kisses blazing a hot trail, up your body, stopping at your breasts as he takes the time to swirl his tongue around each of your nipples, teasing it into a hardened bud.

“You wanna feel me, Sweetheart? Want me to make love to you?” he murmurs between kisses pressed to your lips.

Eddie needed no further affirmation than your little breathy moan of ‘yes please’ before he was pressing his cock’s tip at your entrance, slowly easing himself inside inch by inch. 

He steadies himself on his arms, caging you safely underneath his gaze, as he gently sweeps the stray hair that’s fallen across your eyes. 

Kissing your lips once more he smears the sticky bead of pre-cum that pools from his tip over your clit, before beginning  to rock his hips into you, filling you with every pulsing inch of his cock. Sliding home into the warmth of your walls hugging against him.

“Feels so good…Making me feel so good, Teddy..” you whimper, the nickname falling from your lips so sweetly.

He continues to roll his hips into you, each time making you shudder in pleasure underneath him.

His large hand reaches out to find your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his brown eyes softening when he sees your golden wedding band decorating your dainty finger. The reminder that you were in this with him for the rest of your lives made his heart bloom with love.

“My beautiful wife…I love you so much, Sweetheart…” he kisses you softly once more, letting his tongue sweep between your lips.

 Your hand reaches down between your two bodies, your deft fingers rubbing in precise circle around your clit as he fucks into you. The building tension in your stomach grows with every steady thrust of your husband's cock into your pulsing heat.

“Fuck…Sweetheart, you feel so good, swear this pretty little pussy was just made for me…” his raspy voice rumbles out, as he places a sloppy kiss into the crook of your neck. 

His movements get sloppier as he chases both his and your highs, his hips working to make you both feel good.

“Come on Sweetheart, one more, for me please, wanna feel you squeezing around me..” he murmurs, as his unrelenting thrusts continue to rut into you.

With the way your own fingers were rubbing so deliciously around your clit, and Eddie’s cock filling you so perfectly every time, it wasn’t long before you pushed over the edge, whimpering with a shuddering moan as you tightened around his length, riding out the high of your orgasm.

Eddie followed you soon after, his breath ragged as he pushed into you one final time, his hips still as he filled you with his release. Throbbing hot spurts of white into you, as he too rides out the high of his orgasm. 

You both stay like that for a moment, not bothering to move, just wanting to feel the closeness of each other. To feel each other’s bodies. 

Eddie’s hand holds your face tenderly, his thumb brushing against your cheek softly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” He kisses you sweetly.

“I love you too, Teddy.” you smile into the kiss, a warmth blooming in your chest as you do.

It had been the perfect end to the perfect day, and you couldn’t wait to continue spending the rest of your life with the man you loved so dearly.

@slutty-thevampireslayer @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @mrsjellymunson @onegirlmanytales

[gameo-archive]

"To the Save the Dead Boys campaign Hi! We'll love to gift the campaign with something! Could you maybe talk a bit about your reactions to the billboard? FYI we just broke the 300 members milestone for the campaign discord server! Across all socials we have: Twitter: 2815 Instagram: 1237 Tumblr: 945 Bluesky: 282 Totalling 5279 members (and growing) of us fighting to get the show back on our screens! Thank you, with love, Save the Dead Boys team"

Jayden: "we just broke the 300 members milestone for the campaign discord server."

George: What does that mean?

Jayden: it's how many people have signed up to the Discord, which is a lot...

George: wow, ok. later What's Bluesky?

Jayden: it's the new X.

Transcript below:

"J: This is a Cameo from the Save the Dead Boys Team to the Save the Dead Boys Campaign. So! I’m just gonna get straight into this ‘cos I feel like this Is important. J: “To the Save Dead Boys Campaign: Hi! Would love to gift the campaign with something. Could you maybe talk a little bit about your reactions to the billboard. FYI we just broke the 300 members milestone for the campaign discord server.” Wow! Incredible! G: What does that mean? J: Across all—basically it’s how many people they have signed up to the Discord, which is a lot of, uh, a lot of people— G: Wow, okay. J: —“across all socials, we have: Twitter: 2,815. Instagram: 1,237. Tumblr: 945. Blue Sky: 282—“ G: What’s Blue Sky? J: That is like the new X. Uh, “Totaling: 5,579 members and growing of us fighting to get (mumble) to get the show back (gibberish noises) to get the show back onto our screens. Thank you with love, the Save Dead Boys Team.” J: Well, I can safely say that the fact that a group and community of people banded together to put up this billboard to basically tell people that they want our show to be renewed and the fact that it was all just raised through the community, nearly $10,000, I-I-I still can’t quite find the words to explain how much that means to us and to the show. Um— G: Oh my gosh— J: All I can do, and I’m sure George will do the same, but is just express, um, my gratitude. G: Absolutely. J: Thank you. G: And look, unfortunately we’re not in Los Angeles. We will be, uh, later this year, but, we won’t be there on time to unfortunately see it in person, but I did see it when it went up. Uh, I shared it on my Instagram and I can’t even tell you the number of messages I’ve received saying, uh, “This is amazing!” Um, people are really shocked in the best way, I mean, there’s campaigning to save a show and then there’s CAMPAIGNING to save a show. J: With a capital P. G: Um, so, honestly, the hugest congratulations from your Dead Boys. The hugest thank you, as well, because, um, if that’s not a sign that the show has spoken to people, I really don’t know what is. J: Yeah. G: Um, and there’s a lot of talent, there’s a lot of marketing, um, you know, [???] that you guys are bringing to it, so well done and, uh, yeah, we’re, listen, we’re just two silly Dead Boys— J: Yes, we are— G: We’re big fans of you. You guys are the ones who are making moves, and, uh, we see you, and we love you. J: I saw something this morning that there’s another campaign being put up that they can extend the billboard for like another three weeks somewhere else, and I think people already donating to that cause, so, a-a-all we can say is “Wow!” Y-you guys never fail to surprise us. You’re incredible. Keep shouting, keep screaming, keep doing what you can. You guys are the life of the show now and it lives on within you and what you choose to do with it, whether it’s for the good or not—for the not-so-good, is, is on you guys, and all we can do is be here to say thank you and do things like this for you guys, because you all bloody-well deserve it. G: Thank you guys. Love you!"

[vodika-vibes]

Different Worlds - Part 2

Story Summary:  A chance meeting between you and a man you had no right ever meeting might change the face of Mandalore forever. Of course, you have to survive first.

Chapter Summary: You and your escort, Caron, finally arrive at the capital of the Covert. And you face your first challenge. Convincing the Armorer and Paz Vizsla that you should be welcome.

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Word count: 1877

Warnings: I have opinions about the New Mandalorians and none of them are good. Just, FYI.

A/N: So this is a self-indulgent project that I'm slowly working on, that's going to involve a lot of Mandalorian characters, including Boba Fett, Bo-Katan Kryze, and Satine Kryze. It's also solidly an AU. I won't be tagging anyone in this, because it is going to be very different than my usual stuff. Well, unless you specifically ask. This story will be posted under my Mandalorian masterlist, with it's own masterlist. The next part of this fic will be from Paz's POV.

The flight from Sundari to the location of the Capital City of the Covert takes a lot longer than you anticipate. You expected it to be, maybe, a couple of hours in the back of the cramped transport ship.

But Carson, the personal pilot that Duchess Satine has graciously allowed you to borrow, informed you that the actual travel time was closer to a week, rather than several hours.

The sand around Sundari wreaks havoc on all transport vessels, even the ones designed for transport over sand. So the ship is limited to four hours of travel time before it needs two hours for the droids to clean the sand out of the engines and various machinery. 

Not to mention, the Duchess has a policy about Personal Guards only being allowed 8 hours of travel time per 24 hours.

You think it’s a ridiculous policy, there’s nothing wrong with traveling for 10 or more hours at a time. You used to do it regularly before Father forcibly moved Grandpa to Sundari.

But, you hold your tongue.

Based on the way that Carson waxes poetically about the Duchess, any criticism directed towards the Duchess, or Sundari itself, will not be treated well. And the last thing you want to do is insult the person responsible for getting you safely to the Covert.

So you keep your peace, and lounge in the back of the ship with a datapad in hand while you start working on some designs that you’ve been toying with for years, but haven’t had the time to actually work on.

Six days later, when you’ve had a breakthrough on your most recent project (a gemstone tree for Nymmie, made out of twisted copper and pink stones of all types), the ship starts to slow.

You close the design program on your datapad as the intercom in your temporary room dings to warn that a message is incoming.

“Goran,” Carson’s voice sounds tinny and small through the intercom, so much so that you have to move closer to the intercom to try and understand him. “We’re about to land on the outskirts of the Covert’s main settlement. Please come to the cockpit.”

The intercom squeals with painful feedback as Carson disconnects on his end, causing you to clamp your hands over your ears. You keep telling him that he needs to disconnect the intercom differently, but he refuses to listen.

It’s something you’ve learned over the last week. Carson doesn’t listen to anyone who isn’t named Satine.

He’s annoying. But he’s also important to Satine, at least according to him, so you bite your tongue about that as well.

You pull your jacket on, and then you head out of your room. After a week on this ship, ducking under the low-hanging pipe just outside your door has become second nature, as has hopping over the vent that emits burning steam at random intervals.

This ship is barely safe for people to use. You can’t believe that Satine is allowing it to be used as a diplomatic vessel. 

You’re of half a mind to beg the Covert for a safer way to return home when this whole thing is over with. At this point, you’d accept riding a bantha back to Sundari.

It can’t possibly be any more dangerous.

You finally duck into the cockpit and get your first look at the landscape where the Covert calls home.

Rolling plains of grass, massive trees that touch the sky, and a lake glittering far in the distance. The sky seems endless, outside of Sundari’s protective dome, and you can see what looks like farms out of one of the side windows.

It’s beautiful. 

Carson…doesn’t agree.

“Ugh, I bet it smells like animals here.” He grumbles as he settles the ship on a spot cleared for such things.

“Better animals than garbage,” You counter.

He shakes his head, “How anyone can live without the protective dome—”

“Well, they don’t have to worry about massive sandstorms, do they?” You point out with a roll of your eyes, “Anyway, the person in gold…they must be the leader?”

“Who knows? It’s not like I can tell the difference between any of them.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Honestly, a Jedi would be more useful than you are.”

“The Duchess would never call in the Jedi for this.” Carson replies loyally, “Politics on Mandalore should stay under the purview of the Mandalorians.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” But even as you say so, there’s an itch at the back of your mind and a pit forming in your stomach. Something is going to go wrong. You can feel it.

Ka’ra, if you have any love for your descendants, please let this go well. The silent prayer goes unanswered, but you don’t expect one. It’s less of a prayer and more of a plea, anyway.

The ship falls silent as Carson powers down the engines, and you take a step back as he turns his chair and stands, “I don’t expect this to take very long, no more than a couple of days for them to agree to Her Grace’s terms. And then we can go home.”

You’re not sure if he’s an optimist or just delusional. Maybe a mix of both. Still, pointing out that the Covert and the True Mandalorians haven’t been all that receptive to Satine’s policies thus far will only start a fight.

So, once again, you hold your tongue.

Your mother would be so proud of you.

Carson leaves the ship first, strutting down the landing ramp with all of the confidence of a man who knows exactly what’s going to happen here. You trail after him, a lot more bemused and a lot less certain about what’s going to happen here.

There are two people there to greet you, a man in dark blue armor and a woman in gold, the same woman you saw from the window. Based on their helmet design, the man with the traditional T shape and the woman with individual eye holes, the man must be a sniper of some kind, while she’s likely to be a melee fighter.

Neither are thrilled to see you and Carson, that much is plain to see.

“Welcome to the Covert,” The woman says, her voice flat and unaffected even through her vocoder.

Oh, yeah. She hates both of you.

“I am the Armorer, the leader of the Covert. We expected you yesterday.”

“We got caught in a sudden sandstorm that forced us to stop for a day,” you say smoothly before Carson can say something that will get you both kicked out. “I apologize for not reaching out to inform you of our delay.”

Two pairs of helmets turn to you, and you fight the urge to fidget under their stare. You’ve spent time with people who wear armor all the time. You will not be intimidated by these, admittedly, intimidating people. You refuse.

“You speak well, it does you credit.” The man’s voice is deep, even through his vocoder, and somehow it surprises you even though you expected it.

“Thank you.” You take a steadying breath and continue, “I am the person who was gifted the honor of representing Duchess Satine in these negotiations. I’m—” You pause when Carson elbows you, “You can—” He elbows you again, and you huff out a frustrated breath, “Duchess Satine has requested that you refer to me as Goran, as I’m the closest thing that Sudari has.” You turn your glare on Carson, “If you don’t stop elbowing me, I’m going to steal a hammer and beat some damned sense into that head of yours.”

“Ah…sorry,” Carson replies, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.

“Goran,” The Armorer sounds much less hostile, “You’re a blacksmith then?”

“I am, I learned from my grandfather, who learned from his father.”

“Not your father?”

“Father doesn’t have the spark needed to man the forge, though he tried.” You offer diplomatically.

“I wasn’t aware that Sundari needed blacksmiths.” The man in blue notes.

“Metal still needs to be worked. Though I would like to point out, my grandfather was a Haat blacksmith.”

You can feel their estimation of you going up a few notches. 

“A member of the Haat,” The Armorer replies thoughtfully, “How did you come to live in Sundari?”

“My grandfather fell ill and needed the medical attention of a Republic Specialist.” It’s the honest truth, though you know he would have preferred to die in Keldabe, rather than hooked up to machines in Sundari. “Then father fell in love with a woman born in Sundari, and the rest is history.”

“One cannot help who they love,” The man in blue agrees, “I am called Paz Vizsla.”

“You are the representatives of the Covert, then?” You ask, as you make a mental note of his name. Vizsla is a well-known name. A hated name.

“We are.”

Carson coughs to gather their attention, “And when will the diplomatic meeting begin, if I might ask?”

“Not for several days.” The Armorer’s voice becomes curt as she speaks to Carson. “We are waiting for the representative from the Haat Mando’ade.”

The surprises you. 

You had been under the impression that this meeting would be between the New Mandalorians and the Covert. Not between three of the four major factions. 

You pin Carson with a glare, “Boba Fett will be here?”

“Alongside his father, Jango Fett.” The Armorer agrees. “As Jango Fett is the rightful Mand’alor, it’s only fitting.”

“Mandalore does not need such outdated traditions—” Carson says curtly.

“Enough—” You silence him with a raised hand, “Traditions shape us. That is what it means to be Mandalorian.” You pinch the bridge of you nose, “Forgive me, I was unaware that this was going to be a larger affair.”

“You weren’t informed?” Paz asks.

“I was not.” You drop your hand to the side, “Shall I also assume that Bo-Katan will be present as well?” It’s no secret in Sundari that the Duchess’ sister is the leader of the Death Watch.

Personally, you think it’s fitting. They’re both just as fanatical as the other, but on opposite ends of the spectrum.

“She will not.” The Armorer replies, “Bo-Katan Kryze is barred from Mandalorian soil. A decision that we actually agree with your Duchess about.”

The bad feeling that you’ve been having grows worse when you hear that comment.

“She will not be pleased.” You warn.

“I think you’ll find that no one really cares about what will make Bo-Katan happy or not.” The Armorer replies, before she nods her head, “We have rooms made up for the pair of you, while you stay here.”

“I will stay with the ship, if you don’t mind.” Carson interjects, “The Duchess entrusted me with the ship, and I intend to keep it safe.”

“As you like, then.” The, presumably older, woman turns her helmet towards you. “And you, Goran?”

“I will happily accept the room you’ve provided for me.” You reply gratefully. Anything to get off that ship.

“Very well,” She motions to Paz, “He will give you the grand tour.”

And, most likely, he’ll kill you if he thinks that you’re a threat.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

[clarkeycentral]

another george stream more "do you have a gf now" "saw you on a date how did it go" messages in chat 😭 i hid it but saw on screen sigh

Yeah, I saw it too.

The two people/comments I saw were something like, "Who did you go on a date with?" and "Do you have a girlfriend now or...?.

Who tf are these people? From what I can gather, they'll comment these things in the first 30 minutes of stream and then disappear. (I wonder if they get timed out or banned?).

It's interesting because usually, when this happens (based on other fandoms I've been in), it's not usually one comment here and there. They usually want to spread their information with a story. But there's been no other explanation from the people commenting.🤷‍♀️ (FYI, not that the explanation matters, I just find it extremely interesting the way they're going about this).

I also can't tell if it's just one person on multiple accounts or a few people who got together and are teaming up to fish for information / an answer.

[novabun-ships]

No read more but its not sunshine and flowery words fyi. Talking about struggles and venting my frustration if that bothers you just don't read it... I don't expect anyone to anyways.

●

As you know I have an incredibly difficult and tense filled day ahead, the days leading up to today have been incredibly hard and I unfortunately had a mental break and spent some time in hospital. A conglomerate of things happened and I just couldn't handle it and I snapped quite literally. I have appointments lined up for the psychiatric side of things, not sure what that's going to entail but its terrifying.

As for what happened for court. It feels tiresome. I got a call this morning from VS stating they never made a zoomlink meeting and now she is trying desperately to get one because we've stated multiple times my daughter understandably does not want to be within 2 mile radius of those two monsters. She's off for March break and I can't go in person out of respect for my daughters feelings and the plan was they were going to give me a zoomlink so I could at least listen in and attend virtually....still going to wait.. the latest she said was 1:00pm to get a link. I hope she can make it happen.. thankfully I do have some family who is attending in person so at least they can fill me in if I cannot go in virtually.

I haven't slept all night...I'm drained mentally and physically, I am drained. These next 6 hours...I don't know whats going to happen or what I'm going to do if justice fails. The stress is ....a lot and I'm tired of having to walk outside with my head on a swivel because of some violent girl openly threatening me and my family— I'm tired of the lack of sleep over terrifying and stomach turning intrusive thoughts— I'm tired that this has now taken four years of our lives.

I'm tired of always being triggered into an episode and put into dangerous situations for myself. Either reckless behavior or attempts on my own life. This has triggered a massive episode (see above) and it scared me so much...that my brain throws rationality out, that I can be so easily swayed to just end everything.

If I've said or done anything that put my friendship in jeopardy, or made anyone think less of me I'm sorry. I'm going through so much right now and I feel like I'm suffocating and struggling alone.

Still not active. I just can't find the will to be here right now. Can't find the will for anything right now. I may or may not poke back in to at the very least check messages but anything I'm tagged in will not be acknowledged until I feel a semblance of normalcy and peace. I don't have the energy to be positive right now. So I'm sorry for that but I'm dealing with some pretty awful shit.

[fayes-fics]

A Few Blog FYIs and Changes

What to expect from this blog

I am not going to write angst or traditional romance stories. Please don’t come to my blog wanting or expecting rewrites of romance books. That is not my style or my wheelhouse. If you want that type of writing, please look elsewhere or, even better, have a go yourself!

What to do if you don’t like my content

If you do not like my content, that’s okay! I know it’s not for everyone. I only ask you don’t reach out to me personally and give me shit about it. Please do unfollow me and/or you can even block this blog so it doesn’t appear in the various Bridgerton tags for you. I will be none the wiser and you will enjoy your fandom experience without me in it.

I also know fandom is transient. Perhaps you once enjoyed Bridgerton, but no longer do. If you signed up to my taglist but no longer wish to be notified about my fics, that’s also understandable. Just send me a private message asking to remove you from my list and I will happily do so. 🫶

Asks/Feedback

My ask-box is still open for feedback, q&a and chat. I will leave anon asks on for now, but please note I reserve the right to change that if I get messages that are rude or abusive.

Fic requests

As it currently stands, I will no longer be accepting fic requests unless they are from trusted mutuals. I will not be reopening to requests publicly. The experience I had yesterday has completely soured me to writing fic for just anyone who asks for it. I don’t need that sort of rudeness and entitlement in my life. I’m sorry if this is disappointing to a few people.

I’m done trying to please people and spending hours pouring effort into fics to either never hear from the original requester (this is 99% of the time with anons) or to get negativity and rudeness that my hard work isn’t what they wanted.

Fic taglist

I’m going to keep my taglist running for now. It does take a long time to tag everyone, so I do periodically check if everyone on it still follows this blog. If they don’t I remove them.

I’m also going to change my approach so the taglist is not on the original post. Updates to tumblr setup means I have to switch between desktop and mobile for tagging to ‘stick’. From now on, all tagging will either all be on a reblog or in the notes field (tbc on that).

Upcoming holiday fics

As of today, I am shelving my plan to write a Bridgerton-verse version of While You Were Sleeping for the holidays. I have lost the motivation to devote the time. It would have been a considerable undertaking. Instead, I will spend that time with my loved ones.

I have one Christmas modern AU smut threesome already written. I may write one or two more short fics, but no guarantees.

I’m sad to I’ve had to write some of this, but I hope you can understand why.

Thanks for reading my fics and supporting me. It means a lot 🫶😁🧡🧡

[silverflcme]

plotting call! hello! below are a few plot ideas that have been bouncing around in my head for some time now. i've gone ahead and divided them up into specific verses / settings, too. some of them i do have a preference on which muse i play, but other than that i'm super open to plotting!! message me if interested?! ( fyi - all plots can fit any pairing )

ranching / small town verse:

the son of a powerful ranching family in town just got out of a prison for a crime he was made an example out of. he's been locked up for awhile now, disconnected in a prison out of state, and has come home to find his family's dynasty is pretty much falling apart. on top of that, his long term ex girlfriend (or baby momma even) is now in bed with a rival family. i'd want to play the son who got out of prison in this plot.

with that, the sister of the same ranching family as mentioned above. who is a golden child turned mess of a person after something that happened in the family and has drinking problem she hasn't admitted / confronted yet. a romance with a ranch hand for her family who showed up unexpectedly with a bad past ( maybe even lying to her ?? ) who gets involved with the drama. i'd want to play the golden child turned mess for this plot.

the city muse who has it all together, returns home to their small town / ranching town / mc town, for either a sweet home alabama vibe or another reason. either way, they come back to town and come face to face with their ex who was their biggest 'what if'. very much exes / mutual frustration to lovers mixed with a little bit of crime in the background for a bigger plot.

cliche golden child / preacher's child and the town fuckup. two of them always exchanged glances in school, but then they vanished senior year without a word. now they're back years later, working at the town garage, full of tattoos, they're still the one moms can't stand. while the golden child is still dating their high school sweetheart and playing piano at church. their worlds finally end up colliding and things are never the same after that. i'd want to play the preacher's child for this plot.

romantasy / supernatural verse:

human muse and secret occult ( fae , elf , werewolf , etc. ) muse in a dark academia setting. human is a new graduate student at a secluded but prestigious private university. the occult is blending in with the humans ( either hiding from their family / where they are from or some other reason ) and working as a scholar for the school. human and occult end up getting close then queue falling in love and the whole discovering what they are and then plunging them into some bigger plot that has to do with why the occult muse is hiding out amongst humans. ideally, i'd want to play the human in this plot.

human and royal fae are bound together through a magical bargain. but the fae, who's been on the run from their crazy fam, has been caught by their family's bounty hunters, determined to bring the fae back ( for reasons that can be discussed ). because of the bargain, the human is forced to come with. dangerous part? the fae's family hates the humans. so the fae must glamour the human at all times, keeping them safe from their family while the human must try to blend in. ideally, i'd want to play the human in this plot.

high season verse: ( i watched sirens and omg )

a bored, married heiress who is suffocating in luxury ( lol ) is vacationing in the hamptons or somewhere lush for the summer. the other muse? her new driver, tennis coach, yacht captain or deckhand, anything. they're younger, too. an affair begins for the summer, but drama always happens in the hamptons. either they make her jealous with their friends and potential lovers their age, or she's hanging her power over their head. it's toxic but delicious.

exes vacationing with their new partners at the same holiday estate. maybe they're famous. maybe they're royals. either way, tension is high, jealousy even higher, press circling... all the angst and drunk words they never said before.

a much younger muse was the assistant to the wife of a very very wealthy and much older businessman. after a string of scandals and an unexpected romance, the businessman leaves his wife and puts a ring on the finger of the assistant. this is their first high season as fiancees and it can either be very angsty and dramatic, smutty and hot, fluffy and fun. anything i just want to explore this dynamic. if you've seen sirens then you get it lol

swinger plots? that's it. that's the plot lol.

mafia verse:

inspired by 'bound by duty'. both muses are from family's within the new york outfit and both are widowed. one muse is being prepped to take over the family's illegal business and because of that, is being forced to remarry. then enters the other muse, who is newly available after their spouse died. now, for appearances, the two are having to get married and merge their families - despite neither being fully healed from their first marriages.

the rival's son and the don's daughter. give me romeo and juliet but set in a mafia world. they're both chaotic and toxic and feel like they're untouchable. they meet through their mutual love for the luxurious night life, and during a drug filled night, they sleep together - opening pandora's box and making it a terrible, but steamy love affair that can end in burning flames if we let it.

fantasy / period verse:

a bastard child falling for the heir's betrothed. they've been in each other's orbit for years, but now she's promised to his half brother. she never wished to be anyone's queen but his, though. now the two of them have to fall in love from affair and dare to cross a line that could easily get them both killed.

war is looming between houses and one muse has been sent to what is currently the safest house on the map, to protect the queen's young children aka the heir to the throne. second muse is required to watch / attend to them. but both are filled with tension, fear, feeling like they're useless in a time of war, etc. so tensions rise between them, but they eventually become someone they turn to as war gets closer and closer to their doorstep.

because i'm basic as hell....an a.licent h.ightower and c.riston c.ole esque plot.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 12

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 FYI, I’ve basically imagined that Dustin and Suzie are roughly the same age as the others in this, so in their late teens and early twenties…

Chapter 12: reality check

Five Days later

Steve picked up the phone and dialled Eddie’s number. It rang twice, before the answerphone stabbed him with the same old jack-knife in the gut:

“Hi! This is Suzie.”

“And this is Dustin.”

“We’re not around right now—

“—or we’re having our downtime, together or apart, which is super important to us—” 

Jesus Christ, kill me already.

Steve had heard this message a dozen times. Dustin and Suzie sounded so goddamn chirpy, like they were going to explode into song. And Steve had endured waaaaay too many chirpy songs the last few nights, courtesy of Robin’s mom’s cassette deck.

He endured the rest of their nail-scapingly annoying message and braced himself for the Ding!

“Hi, this is Steve. Again. Look, I really need to talk to Ed—”

“Answerphone tape full,” recited an electronic voice, the polar-opposite of chirpy.

“Fuck!” Steve slammed down the receiver. 

Why wasn’t Eddie returning his calls?

Okay, Steve had been sleeping a ton the past few days, might’ve missed something. Robin’s leave was over today, and her mom worked really long shifts…

A muffled meeeeow had him looking up sharpish. Resident cat, Fernando, glared at him through the window.

“All right, I’m sorry I stole your couch. I don’t hate you, it’s your fur that hates me. Way to go making me feel even shittier about it.”

He glared back. Trouble was, this was Fernando’s home, not his. Robin had technically moved out last year, and he’d barely got a nickel to slot into the housekeeping kitty.

He was gonna have to sell his watch. Or the guitar. Dammit, he’d wanted to check in with Eddie first, but what choice did he have?

He leafed through the telephone directory for music stores, scraped together some loose change, and caught a bus across the city. On the journey, he missed his old Sony Walkman as never before. Thanks to Robin’s mom, ‘Mamma Mia’ by Abba ear-wormed through his brain. Uuuuuuurgh! He  hugged the glittery guitar case tightly and attempted to pep himself up.

Eddie said he was crazy about Steve. Steve sure as heck felt the same. 

“Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?”

“Shut the hell up, Agnetha,” he muttered, earning himself a scathing glance from a woman sitting close. But Steve hadn’t been broken-hearted when he left the hotel. He’d been scared shitless over that fact he was losing his memory as well as his mind. He still was. His future with Eddie had been the one thing he’d felt faintly optimistic about, and… 

“Look at me now, will I ever learn?”

No. No way. Eddie was a good person. Yeah, Robin had passed hours bad-mouthing him. No matter. Steve believed in Eddie. Well, he desperately wanted to. He was getting really worried about him—about whether he’d really been ‘cured’ of his agoraphobia, and about his overly sass-tastic and curiously absent friends. 

He missed him so much. Christ, it hurt.

In ‘Jivin’ Jams,’ Steve laid the guitar case on the counter and opened it. The store-owner’s brows shot sky high: “Where did you get this, son?”

“A friend gave it me,” said Steve. “There was a rumor it once belonged to Jimi Hendrix or something.” 

The guy stared at him, mega-intense, which Steve took to be a positive sign. Maybe he should play hardball, get competing offers from a bunch of stores.

“I’m looking for at least two-thousand bucks,” he ventured.

“I got some catalogues out back that should help me figure out what it’s worth. Gimme a tick.”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.”

The dude vanished. Steve waited, grinning when a track he knew—‘Friday I’m in love,” by The Cure—drowned out the Abba hell-loop in his head. He remembered this one. Yeah, he’d been flat on his back on that honking great bed, with his ankles looped around Eddie’s neck. While merrily fucking Steve, Eddie had sung along like an idiot:

“Monday, you can hold your head, Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed, Or Thursday, watch the walls instead, It's Friday, I'm in love…”

Christ, he missed Eddie’s dumbass ‘o’ face. He missed how Eddie always needed him to come too, loving it when Steve squirted across those lick-tastic tatts. Yeah, he missed… so much. If he got a decent amount for the guitar, maybe he and Eddie could rent a place together. Get back to fucking every day of the week…

He was still daydreaming, smirking vaguely, when the two policemen walked in. 

“I didn’t know it was stolen!” protested Steve. The son-of-a-bitch store-owner handed the guitar over the counter to one of the cops.

“Where d’you get it then?” asked the other.

“A friend gave it to me.” Steve’s legs started to feel wibbly.

“This friend got a name?”

Steve bit hard into his bottom lip.

“You think on it, and tell us when we get to the precinct, huh?” 

They took his knapsack and turned out his pockets. When the handcuffs came out, the bubble of panic in his windpipe ballooned.

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” he repeated, sort of on autopilot. They cuffed him anyway. Outside the store, the cool air smarted against his burning skin. “C-crap. No, please! Look… I… I didn’t know!”

He was guided into the back of their patrol vehicle and the door slammed shut. He shut his eyes, rested his head back, and battled his instinct to struggle against the cuffs.

OH MY GOD, EDDIE! YOU REALLY WERE TAKEN FOR A CHUMP!  

Unless he knew it was stolen? No. No way, no way. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Okay… breathe. Keep calm, right? Shiiiiit! 

Steve had been picked up by the police once before. It’d been soon after he’d run from that man, when he was on the streets, and… Nope, nope, NOPE.

His mind grew as clammed up as his body. Which was probably how, breathing fast and shallow, he survived the short journey to the precinct. Still kinda dazed, he was uncuffed and processed. His rescue inhaler, which had been in his pack, was handed back to him. For the first time in a while, he managed to form a coherent sentence: “I need to make a phone call.”

As he was shown to the booth, his worries swerved off in a whole new direction. Dammit, he still didn’t know Robin’s number. He could try calling the hotel, see if he could get a message to her, but…

His unsteady fingers dialled the one number that’d etched itself into his heart. He knew it was gonna go to that ‘answerphone full’ message.

Shit, you are not gonna cry, Harrington, or you’re gonna be eaten alive.

“Hello, this is Suzie.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not Him. This is Suzie Henderson. To whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Steve.” He swiped his knuckles across his cheekbones. “I’m, uh… um… Eddie’s friend. Is he there?”

“No, we don’t know where he is. We’re really worried.” She sure sounded less chirpy than in her message. “I thought Dusty tried to call you back. Have you heard from Eddie?”

“N-no, no. Oh my God. Oh my God, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

“You seem distressed, Steve. Can I help?”

What choice did he have? He poured out his story, including how Eddie gave him the guitar he was accused of fencing, right till the call randomly cut off.

…

In the interview room, a tired-looking cop dumped a worryingly thick file between them.

“It’s a simple question, kid. Tell us how you came into possession of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar, and we can cut you a deal. You sing sweet enough, you could skip all charges.”

Steve chewed his thumbnail, stared at the table: “I got it from a friend.”

“Listen to me. That guitar was stolen during an armed robbery at a house in Brentwood. You already got an arrest record. You don’t talk, you’re looking at some serious time behind bars.”

Steve gawked up at the interviewer, his thumb still half-caught in his mouth. He’d go to the prison for the guy he loved but…

This isn’t happening.

“Whoever you’re covering for, are they worth it? You scared they’re gonna come for you? We can put you in witness protection.”

Scared? Of Eddie? It was almost hilarious, and finally snapped Steve from his clammed-up funk. He giggled nervously.

“You think this is funny, kid? You can laugh your ass off in jail. You wanna recall your friend’s name for me now?”

“I… um…”

Eddie would want you to tell him, you idiot! He can probably help clear this mess up! There is also the teensy weensy possibility he’s skipped town, leaving you holding his seriously problematic baby…

“Look, I’m not exactly sure where he—“

The door flew wide and a young woman with fashionably frizzy hair and some serious shoulder-pad action stepped in. “Stop the interview. My name’s Nancy Wheeler. I’m Steve’s lawyer and I need a moment alone with my client.”

The interviewer looked mildly pissed then picked up his files and shuffled out.

Steve slumped back in his seat and blinked at his apparent saviour. Beneath the make-up and the power suit, she didn’t look much older than he was. She smiled tightly, pulled a chair around and sat down beside him.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve finally found his voice. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I can’t pay you anything."

“I’m not actually a lawyer,” she hissed, kinda apologetic. “I’m a trainee journalist. Friend of Suzie’s. She’s sort of into law as a hobby, and she’s clued me in on exactly what to say, so… sit tight, keep quiet. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

…

Nancy did a lot of talking, and Steve eventually found himself leaving the precinct flanked by Nancy and Suzie. Suzie had brought her checkbook to pay Steve’s bail, though in the end, he hadn’t been charged.

He’d lost track of time during his ordeal, and it was past ten pm and dark outside. Before they reached the bottom of the precinct steps, a Volvo drew up, and its internal light switched on. A guy with curly hair and a ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest’ baseball cap wound down the window.

“Get in!” he yelled.

“Love you too, Dusty-bun.” Suzie headed around to the front passenger seat. 

Steve hesitated. “Uh, look, I appreciate the cavalry charge and all, but you’re, like, complete strangers.”

“Get in, Dingus!” Robin had rolled down the backseat window.

“What the heck are you doing here?” He climbed in, and she folded him into a clumsy hug. Nancy climbed in on his other side.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin.

“Jesus, what do you think? I got arrested, and.. I’m so confused.”

Robin launched her story, as Dustin drove off. When she’d discovered Steve AWOL, she’d freaked out. Then she’d called Dustin’s number, which she knew Steve had been trying all week. While garbling madly at each other, she’d learned from Dustin about Steve’s arrest. Dustin, meanwhile, gleaned that Robin had heard from co-workers that day about an incident at the hotel.

The same incident that Dustin, Suzie and Nancy had spent the last few days trying to get to the bottom of.

“What happened at the hotel?” asked Steve.

“We’re not entirely sure,” said Nancy. Steve wasn’t sure why they'd gotten a rookie journalist in tow. So much baffled him right now. “What we do know is that the police have charged Eddie with assault and battery. His disappearing act doesn’t exactly help his case.” 

“What? No way!” Steve couldn’t buy it. Eddie was one of the gentlest guys he’d ever known. Okay, there was that one time he busted his own knuckles, but…

"It's a pretty serious business," Robin was saying. "The only witness was Doreen. She swore that the so-called 'victim’”— Robin spluttered the word out like sour milk—“was blind drunk and walked into a pillar, but the police didn't buy it.”

“We’ve got to find Eddie before the cops do,” chipped in Dustin.

“Yeah, well, LAPD are the least of Eddie’s troubles,” snapped Robin. “I’m gonna gut him over this whole guitar business.”

Too fucking much.

After the rollercoaster of the past few hours, Steve felt basically punch-drunk. He groaned, rubbed his brow, then shaded his eyes from the dazzle of the streetlights. “Please just someone tell me you’ve got a clue where Eddie is.”

“It’s a work in progress,” said Suzie. “He never picked up his ride from the hotel. We’ve exhausted our leads locally, so we’re heading up to Oregon to see his uncle. Wayne won’t talk over the phone—”

“He won’t talk to us, period,” interjected Dustin. “But I think he knows something.”

“We’re going to Oregon?” Steve emerged from beneath his fingers. “Now? The cops told me to not leave town.”

“Dustin said he’d drop us home first,” said Robin. “I’d be delighted to wash my hands of Jon Bon Jovi’s evil stoner cousin for good.”

“He’s not evil.” Steve gave an enormous yawn, then zoned in on the one thing he knew for sure. “I need to find him. You go home, Robin. Fernando will scratch my eyes out if I spend another night on his couch.”

She bitched a bit more, including about how yuck and sweaty he was. Then she refused to leave him. He curled up against her—he couldn’t risk drooling on a complete stranger—and hunkered down for the long drive.

....

Part 13 on Ao3 Part 13 on tumblr

promise we’ll get back to Eddie in the next chapter. I needed to get a few more characters into play so we can finally get steddie on their path to healing and HEA… soon (ish!) 

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[kierancampire]

Today marks 2 years since I got the girls :) So here are some comparison photos from the start and now! Just as an FYI, the Disney Castle is up and out of reach, but I brought it down just for the comparison

I will try and keep this short, but yeah that's pretty much it, just the 2 year anniversary. However I do wanna say some things. From day one my life has never been good or happy, and 2018-2023 were particularly hard years, I went through multiple, extensive, severe traumas, I was homeless twice, I lost everything, but what destroyed me was being forced to give up my cat Roxy, she was my reason for living and fighting, and I always told myself I'd get her back, but deep down I knew I wouldn't

I don't really have any friends, I speak to very little family, I am rather isolated in life. And when I went back to wherever I was living, I hated it, there was no life, no warmth, no desire to be there. Then I moved to this place, continue to went through hell, but at least I was finally living by myself in an "actual" home, but it was never home for me. But one day mum messaged saying a lady she knew found and was looking to get rid of kittens, then along came these two

I realised sometimes I feel like I'm taking it for granted. For the first time in a long time, I feel a desire to go back home, I want to be home, when I go out I look forward to coming back, and it's because I know they're there waiting for me. My home has life in it, it has personality, it's not just this cold dead space. But that's another thing, I realised I started referring to it as home. I honestly don't know if I ever really feel I had a home, I've never had a place I felt I belong, I never had a place I felt safe or secure, but these girls make me feel like this is home. They've given me purpose again, they've given me joy, life, they mean the world to me

It's funny reading about their first day here, in some ways they are the same, in others they are so different. Coraline is less affectionate and clingy, but she is still so bolshy, curious, and has to get involved in everything. Ember was so standoffish at first and wanted nothing to do with me, but now it's hard to make her leave me alone! Also as I'd be posting it soon anyway, here's what the tattoo looks like a year later :) I was hesitant about getting the girls at first, I sometimes still have fears. But I am so glad I did get them now, I know what life was like without them, and I hope to never live that life again. They're gonna get their favourite tuna fillet today and some catnip in celebration :)

[geeks-universe]

An All Might x Reader WIP [it’s part of the Supergirl!Reader universe so it starts with young!All Might]

Just FYI this is still a x reader story, even though Toshi refers to reader as Kent in this. There will be no given first name, but the last name is Kent due to the reader having a background that is a mashup of Superman and Supergirl.

All Might cursed himself for weeks for not getting your number at the park.

He’d meant to, had tried to ask you, before he lost his nerve and you were walking away, your hips swaying with each step.

Damn it all, he had to stop thinking of you this way.

It was damn near impossible, though.

Every encounter he had with you after, even in the throes of battle, he couldn’t help but notice something.

One day it was how your skirt rode up just a little higher when you first pushed off into the sky. Another day it was how you were possibly the only person in the world who’d be able to squash his head like a damn melon with your thighs and- Jesus Fuck- that image stunned him long enough to allow a villain to get a momentary jump on him.

It didn’t help that you weren’t only physically attractive.

If it’d been how you looked, he could’ve brushed it off. Or, maybe he’d tried to initiate a one night stand, even if he did feel a little pervy considering it with someone over a decade his junior.

No, you were also the kindest, bravest, most intelligent person he’d ever met. There wasn’t a single negative thing he could associate with you, and his mind was slowly killing him with the idea that he might be feeling something real for you.

It was preposterous, right? For him to fall in… in- what? love?- with your flustered smiles and sweet words?

No.

He was the Symbol of Peace.

It was a crush, nothing more. Time would definitely make him forget it.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he watched an interview of you the next day, listening intently to your answers on your love life, and over analyzing every micro expression for some kind of sign you were in a relationship.

That was wtorturoushen he realized he most definitely needed a small break, some reprieve from his thoughts. He was just working too much. That had to be it.

So, when his agency received an invitation from another hero agency in regards to a beach party, he was more than happy to accept the invite.

He was one of the first people to arrive, and after the initial influx of greetings from the heroes, he was happy to discover the beach was devoid of civilian life. Clearly, the hero agency had reserved the entire beach, cautious to keep what should be a relaxing evening from becoming a publicity stunt.

He’d been in the process of meeting a new hero- Titus, he thought- when the young, muscular brunette whistled lowly.

“Looks like Supergirl got the invite,” he murmured appreciatively.

Toshinori’s head snapped in the direction of the hero’s eyes, his heart pounding as he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

There you were, standing proud with a confidence he’d only seen present in your person when you were kicking ass. Your bikini was small and did you really have to show off all of that tantalizing skin?

The sun, slowly on its descent beneath the horizon, cast your body in a brilliant, golden glow. A pair of sunglasses rested atop your head, your hair a bit messy from the salt water. Drips of water trailed down your legs and chest, sliding between your cleavage in a path Toshinori wished to follow with his tongue. A golden necklace was nestled between your breasts, twinkling with the light of the sun.

His mouth was watering, and he knew damn well he was staring, but so were two-thirds of the heroes on the beach.

“Man, what I wouldn’t give to be that necklace right now.”

If Toshinori happened to clap his hand a little forcefully on the young hero’s back, who could blame him?

The kid got the message though, and quickly averted his eyes. Toshi, ever the hypocrite, couldn’t tear his gaze away for another few minutes, not until the swing of your hips disappeared beneath the roaring waves.

“Some break,” Toshi whispered to himself, running his hand down the length of his face.

Why did the universe insist on torturing him?

First that yellow sundress, now a little yellow bikini? What was it with you and that color? Besides the fact that you looked like the personification of friggin sunshine with it on.

Okay, calm down. Look away. Focus on something else.

And he did just that. For the next forty-five minutes he was able to occupy himself with something other than you.

First it was the food- an illustrious, smoky spread that tasted divine.

Then, he’d participated in a friendly game of beach volleyball. (He used absolutely the right amount of force on that ball, even if he did accidentally pop it and end the game early.)

Just as he’d been sure that he’d successfully taken the break he so desperately needed, his eyes had slid to the shoreline, landing perfectly on a yellow-clad body with a pink mixed drink pressed to your lips. It really wasn’t fair that you were able to look that perfect.

Before he could stop himself, or even think twice about his decision, he was ambling his way through the sand to your resting place.

You noticed when he was only a few short feet from your position, the smile on your lips positively beautiful. The sun had clearly brightened your mood and skin, illuminating your natural beauty even more so.

“Yagi!”

He sputtered at the sound of his name. Never had he thought it could sound so sinful, even if it was just a sweet greeting from a friend.

“I’m glad you could join!”

Your sincerity struck a chord deep in his heart. Yes, people were always excited to see All Might, but with you it felt like you couldn’t wait to speak to him.

“I am too,” he admitted honestly, berating himself for even thinking he needed a break from you.

Even if it all amounted to nothing, even if he did care for you, it wouldn’t matter. First and foremost, you were a friend. He wouldn’t sacrifice that friendship for his own inappropriate thoughts.

“Here, take a seat,” you tapped the sand by your thigh, prompting him to sit beside you.

He was sure more than a few stares were cast toward the unexpected couple, but he couldn’t be bothered to wave them off. It was far more interesting to see where this conversation would lead.

“I haven’t been on a beach since college,” you admitted, swirling the straw of your drink thoughtfully.

“College?”

Toshinori propped his knees up, resting his arms loosely around his legs. His attention was entirely yours to command, and by the way you were looking at him, it felt if yours was the same way.

“UCLA for journalism.”

“Los Angeles!”

The thought that you’d spent time in the same city he did had him grinning from ear to ear. Despite the tragedy that led to his time in America, he’d cherished all that he learned. It wasn’t everyday people got to expand their worldview by visiting another country, especially one on the other side of the world.

“I always forget that you spent time in California,” you teased, resting your head against your palm. “I was only there for a couple of years with…”

It wasn’t difficult to miss the quiet pain that flashed in your eyes, but he’d noticed it, as well as the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders.

“With?” He echoed, curiosity beating back his manners.

“Uh, my fiancé.” You explained.

Fiancé.

How could one word send such a torrent of emotions through his system? You weren’t interested in him. You’d never been interested in him. This whole time you must’ve thought him a creep, someone who spent far too much time trying to engage in conversation with you when you just wanted to go home to your lover.

“Oh, you have-“

“Had,” you corrected quickly, squeezing your eyes shut. “We broke up a while ago, before…”

The vague gesture could’ve only been referring to Japan as a whole. Relief left him in the form of a sigh. You didn’t have anyone.

“Why?”

Again, he cursed his own rudeness. There was an obvious tension in your body, and despite it, he still wanted more information. Not that he really needed it, obviously the man was an idiot if he’d let you walk away.

“I never told him I was an-“

You paused, fear on your expression briefly.

“Hero… that I was a hero!” You exclaimed quickly, straightening your back as if a reminder to yourself to not be so relaxed.

“That explains the glasses,” he answered his own question with a smile.

You shook your head, however.

“Those were a gift from my sister,” you explained, tapping your brow. “I have x-ray vision, but I can’t see through lead. They help me control it better.”

“Woah.”

Seriously, it seemed like you got more powerful by the day. What else could you do? He’d always been dodgy when asked about his quirk, but you weren’t any better.

“Yeah,” you drawled, fingers sliding through the sand nervously. “What about you, big guy? Where are you from?”

“Tokyo, actually,” he replied. “You’re from Los Angeles, then?”

“Nah,” you denied, shaking your head. “I’m from Kr- Kansas.”

He didn’t miss the slip up in your words, but he wasn’t willing to push just yet. The push and pull of the tides swelled between you, the soft breeze swirling that sweet vanilla scent that clung to you. It was pleasant, how comfortable he was just talking to you. There wasn’t often time in his life to make real friends, and he was slowly coming to appreciate your presence.

“I think I’m going to head home,” you murmured after a long silence.

Your gaze was on the horizon, where the first of the stars were just beginning to twinkle in the darkened sky. He remembered your words then, how you often watched the world above.

“Before you go,” he found himself speaking before he could stop himself. “I, well, I- uh, if you want… I think… I wanted to give you my n-number.”

Your cheeks flooded with a bright red, a nervous smile worrying your lips. As quickly as the burst of confidence at your earlier conversation came, already it had disappeared, false bravado crumbling into a very cute flustered nod.

“O-oh, yeah,” you finished lamely, holding out your phone to him with trembling hands.

He took it, grasping it with a reverence he wasn’t quite sure a cell phone had experienced before. It didn’t matter though, as he entered his contact name as: Yagi ^.^ .

His fingers danced around the keyboard nervously, accidentally clicking the wrong numbers more than once before he was able to successfully type his contact information in. A deep breath forced himself from his lungs as he handed it back to you, noting the small curve of your lips as you stared at the name.

“It was nice to talk to you, Yagi.”

He returned your smile, bowing his head as he got to his feet.

“Likewise, Kent.”

He held a hand out, his arm flexing when you grasped it. Even if you were more than capable of standing on your own, he still tugged you upward. Your hands remained intertwined for a moment beyond what was acceptable, the crash of waves going mute as he stared into your eyes.

“Until next time.”

He could hear the hesitation in your voice, feel it in the way your fingers flexed against him, before releasing. Yet, you still pulled away, gathering up your few belongings and walking back to the parking lot.

Until next time.

[zsakuva]

Hey Saku! I’ve been following your VA stories for a while now, and Alex’s audios have been such a treat to listen and analyze. Especially seeing everyone’s reactions to each one that comes out 🫢 (WARNING LONG MESSAGE) 

I saw on a post that you said you intended for others to see how the listener is a very flawed person, and clearly has major issues that they haven’t dealt with in a healthy way. But I’ve been seeing comments and there’s still people who really dislike Alex with a passion. I know some people have had situations like this in real life, and it’s a lot more complicated situation. So they may have more insight on this than me. I’m just solely judging the fictional characters here FYI. 

    I understand that he isn’t a perfect character and one thousand percent has some flaws of his own, and needs to apologize for what he has done and said, but even after we find out the listener literally followed Alex when he was with Natalie people still think he’s the major red flag that messed up the relationship? Maybe I’m being a little harsh but if I had a partner like the listener and they did everything they did- I wouldn’t have reacted to it nonchalantly. Maybe I wouldn’t suddenly resort to breaking up, but I would have to reassess the relationship. Yes, communication would’ve helped the situation but it wouldn’t have taken back the actions the listener did. And while both of them have to deal with the consequences of their behavior, I don’t think he deserves the amount of “dislike” he gets 😭

     All that to say a lot of people are villainizing Alex when he really didn’t do anything that jaw dropping except be closed off, hypocritical, and a bit of a gaslighter during arguments, which are not healthy reactions, but can happen when emotions get involved. The audience won’t ever know what the listener said back to him during the conversations so they no doubtably could’ve gaslighted him back🫡 Not a complete Alex defender, I don’t particularly like him (the two should definitely not be together) but I also don’t think he’s as terrible as he’s made out to be sometimes.

(Apologies for the paragraph) I do have a short question on it, 

  When you started fleshing out Alex and the listener as characters did you imagine the audience would see them as they do now?  Or was it a surprise to read the differing opinions and conclusions the crumpets came too?  (thank you again for creating such complex and thought invoking audios) 🫶🏻

When I decided to dive into this particular part of their relationship, I knew there would be discourse but I wasn't expecting it to be so divisive. I love reading everyone's opinions; there are so many factors at play to have them draw whatever conclusion they've settled on.

Some might draw from a personal experience, others solely from Alex, or solely from Gremlin, or a third party looking in. All opinions of Alex and Gremlin are valid, and as a writer who loves breaking down characters, it's amazing to see so many discussions about something I've created.

Of course, I have my own opinions regarding their situation, but I'll keep most of that to myself; I'm in a unique position to be omniscient so I'll observe instead!

[inglorionamy-ammy]

A Review of Gale Character Ai (Pt.1)

～What is this post about?～

[Attention: The story in this is NOT a fanfic!! This is my own experience of playing Gale Character AI.]

Link to Part 2 [Start playing with Gale Ai]

Link to Part 3 [Continue playing with Gale Ai]

Link to Part 4 [NSFW test]

● Why am I posting this?

In discussing Gale-AI, @senualothbrok told me that it could be addictive and potentially scary when AI hallucinations happened, that it could start acting in a creepy way. But I was so curious about how in-character/immersive the AI could be, so I played it over 4 TRIALS and eventually got the following interaction that I was quite satisfied with.

● What does this series of posts contain?

With the content generated from Trial 4 as an example, I will share:

1. My personal preferred way to interact with it so as not to get addicted/ mind-ducked by it

2. Some tips on prompting responses that might be satisfying to you personally

3. What I felt during the interaction (which was rather wild)

●How does Gale-Ai work?

In Gale Ai, the web page looked like a text message interaction, and you can message it to "directly talk to Gale".

However what I did is that I Role-Play, typing both actions and dialogues to prompt a bot-response. Basically it's like you are like a DM and the bot roleplays as Gale in your story, so you're co-constructing a story with it.

●If you are extra-worried about blurring reality with fiction in these interactions, some tips:

1. I personally never let one chat last over a day to prevent its performance from dropping (I.e starting to act OOC or even abusive)

2. I role-play as a character in Faerun, so Gale-Ai won't mess with your mind by mentioning real-life events

3. Write to it like writing a fiction, so that the experience feels more like an interactive fanfic rather than a text chat.

●On Ai and fanfiction

From my own observations, the Ai does give individual responses that to a non-native English speaker like me, look pretty decent. I personally think that playing with the Ai is an interesting way for authors to test out ideas and get suprises from the bot (which can happen sometimes); or for me, who actually learnt a vocabulary or two during the interaction.

For integrity reasons I do NOT agree with posting Ai work without indicating that it is co-constructed with Ai. Also if you actually read the Ai story, you will find parts that do not corresponded well, vocabs that are reused many times, and limited creativity in story telling. (Next part I'll use my trial as an example to discuss this)

In addition, a reader mentioned potential ethical issues about how Ai is being trained and the energy they consumed. Here are two articles FYI:

The Green Dilemma: Can AI Fulfil Its Potential Without Harming the Environment?

Character AI Stealing Artists’ Work: A Global Ethical Dilemma in Writing

With this in mind, let's talk about how it played out for me :)

->A Review of Gale Character Ai (Pt.2)

[mousydentist]

my favorite fics that i wrote and why

So, first I'll explain. I'm gonna being reccing my own fics which I'm not super sure how to do cause I mostly just yeet shit on ao3 and let the fates decide, and I'm never sure what's like, too much? Like I see other people rec their own fics and I'm like (O O) how do i do that. Like idk why I have this resistance to like, telling people that I like my own fics? So today I said fuck that, everyone's gonna know now.

And I've just been doing not so hot recently for a number of reason and I figured like, I've been obsessing over so much, why don't I get to be excited about the good things? So anyway, these are my favorite fics that I've written, not just the ones that have done the best or whatever, just my personal favorites, so without further ado...

(quick fyi, all of these are locked so you need to be logged into ao3 to view)

First up is sorry that i can't believe anybody really starts to fall in love with me , don't ask why the name is so long I just like the song lmao. This one's special to me cause it was my first KPTS fic. Is it the best? No. Does it have a super deep meaning? Nope. But it's cute and it's mine so I love it. Next!

the imperfect art of making it. Very self indulgent. I wrote this for the endorphins fic fest which gave me the motivation to write, but really I just loving transing my characters, and soft KimChay deserves lots of love.

Next up, do you look up to the sky? My first whumptober fic and the first one I wrote bc as soon as I looked at the prompts I was like "oh Kim's getting locked in the fucking basement for sure" and then he did! Success. Also KimChay are a pstd4ptsd couple, I won't be taking questions at this time.

This is getting longer than I thought it was gonna be but fuck it, I told myself I was doing this to remind myself why I like writing and that I do actually enjoy it so the longer the better tbh bc it means I really do love it. It's not a bad thing if all of my fics have a special place in my heart, right?

Ok last of the non dead dove ones is i should have kissed you. I don't exactly have a reason, I just think it's a good fic.

The next ones are dead dove cause I have two modes which are cute fluff and illegal <3

chay and kinn and chay. This thing is my baby. I love him with my whole heart. I wrote him in discord messages on my walk to and from classes. This is one fic that I would not be ashamed to say I've read several times over. This is the fic that I think of when people say "write the fics you want to read." This was also a spite fic which makes all of that even funnier lmao

Willow Dancin' On Air. This one's not dead dove but it is KimVegas so eh. But this is another fic I wrote purely for myself. I just wanted some fluffy lil somethin somethin and now every time I listen to this song I think of this fic

Ok last one, Why minors shouldn’t gamble. This one also started on discord and was written in my notes app at like. 9 am while I was still in bed lmao. Because that's where inspiration peaks. And it's hot idk. omegaverse will never not be be a special interest of mine, hopefully one day we can find out what happens when Kim joins the party, I'm genuinely curious.

OK! So. That was something. Tbh I feel a lot better lmao. My therapist would be so proud of me if I ever told her I write fanfiction pff. Normalize reading your own fics over and over. I'm saying that directly to myself cause I see all these like motivational things about writing and then I don't believe them, what's that about?? Doing this reminded me that I actually like the things I create, highly recommend. Now I'm gonna get myself a glass of water cause for the next maybe 12 hours I'm changing my life!! I'm doing self care!!! Woo hoo!!!!! Now to post this before I remember that other people can see it :) Ok bye ✌️