#us; you showed me these things all added up but then you provided an ending different than the story I saw

[ectonurites]

almost 4am can't stop thinking about the meaning of the idiom 'to have blood on [someone's] hands'—to be responsible for a person's death—combined with the fact that Zach is the one we are specifically shown with Daryl's actual blood on his hands (once for real and once in a dream)... Not Josh who had been holding the sword Daryl fell onto, but Zach who took the sword out.

[weltonlasso]

the amount of care between Hannah’s: the beautiful thing is I can see this as one of many things for Rebecca. Is this strange man and his daughter forever? We don’t know…Maybe?

And Brendan’s narcissistic, condescending platitudes: Never with enthusiasm. No connection. You saw what you wanted to see through years of heteronormative television.

is fucking astounding.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Break up with your bastard boyfriend, Simon comforts you)

Ending a 5-year relationship isn’t easy, but the fact that your boyfriend was actually cheating on you for a year already makes you question your life. You’ve noticed the coolness between you and him, every time you called him in the evening always ended up with dial tones. You started blaming yourself, careful not to be too pushy as you attempted to fix the relationship. But you know all your efforts were useless when

your friend send you a video, asking if the man kissing and walking another woman into a motel was your boyfriend. Hell, it really was your boyfriend, or soon-to-be ex more accurately.

You text Simon after you sorted your things with your now ex boyfriend, with a brief explanation of your situation and ask if you can go visit him—your old friend. Then half an hour later, you see him waiting outside of his house already, nod at you when you approach him.

He brings you into his house with a hand on the small of your back, usher you to sit on the couch then seated himself next to you. His presence is soothing as always, though he’s still mostly expressionless and quiet, his cold facade melts when he’s with you, and you finally let yourself cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you blabber about what your ex said about you, those venomous words spitting out and taunted you for being so plain and boring, too docile and without any excitement, so he had to find another girl.

Simon’s furious, holding himself back not to go out right now and land punches on your ex, because staying by your side and comfort you is more important. The man’s is more of action than words, and he knows just the best way to show you what you truly deserve

You can’t remember clearly when he pulled you on his lap and his lips meet yours, guiding you into a slow and affectionate kiss. When he pulls down your trousers, he tells you how much he loves your ‘plain cotton panties’ that your ex despised, how it allows him to see the arousal pooling and wetting a dark spot on the cerulean fabric.

He reassures you in low mutters when he slide a finger into your entrance, slowly adding another and preparing you patiently, which your ex always reluctantly do for a short while then shove his dick in and cause you pain.

“Cute little pussy’s so tight, so perfect, of course she needs more attention, love.” He kisses your tears away as he skillfully fingers you open till you can take his cock without feeling uncomfortable.

He chuckles when your eyes widened in disbelief at the sheer size of his cock, long and girthy with a small curve upwards, “Ready, sweetheart?” He makes sure you’re alright before sinking you down onto his shaft, an obscenely sexy groan from him makes you clench down on him in desire.

“Fuck, relax, princess, you’ll make me lose it too early if you keep doing that…” He grunts out and rubs little circles on your thighs to help you adjust. god, you feel so warm and tight, look so pretty when he finally have you sit on his lap after imagining for years, meeting his eyes shyly with the rosy pink decorating your cheeks, lips a bit swollen from how eager he devoured them earlier.

His pace is slow at first, fat cock dragging out until the tip circled by your entrance before pushing it in again. But soon pick up his pace when you plead at him so sweetly. “Simon, more, more…” You moan out beside his ear, and he’s here to provide, to prove you this is what you deserve—having a nice cock brings you to your release one after another, thighs trembling and clit twitching at how good he fuck you, how that slight curve of his thick and lengthy cock reach that right spot deep inside you and makes you cry out his name, responded with his kiss and another firm thrust inside you until your walls spasm around him, slick folds red and used the time he come inside you with a growl.

“You good?” He’s still panting slightly when he pulls you tightly against his chest, your eyes droopy and lips curl up in a content smile.

“Yeah, thank you, Simon…” his cum dripping out of your cunt when you fall asleep in his arms, still seated on his lap as the tiredness overtakes you.

Simon look down at you, fitting snuggly in his embrace, leaving no gaps between your bodies as if you’re made for each other. He watches your chest rises and fall steadily, face free of the frowns he saw on you in the past years.

Pressing another kiss to your forehead, he picks up his phone and text Soap about your ex’s informations, he’ll make him pay for causing you distress, that’s for sure.

As his eyes shift back to your face, he relishes the truth, having you worry-free and sleeping in his arms, holding onto him even in sleep, seeking for his presence subconsciously.

And the best part is, you’re all his now.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

[chaoticbardlady99]

Can I request a fic where Astarion reacts to GN!Reader who always helps him but refuses to accept his propositions please?

 CW: Dead Dove- for the people who can’t think for themselves and make a decision, no I am not adding specifics to my tags and I don’t have to. You know what game you are playing and you know Astarion’s back story. Put on your big kid pants and get over yourself- if the worst thing that happened to you today was that a fanfiction had a vague CW (which is also not a requirement for anything, it’s common courtesy. You don’t see CW on every book with dark themes, do you?) then you have a pretty damn good life. I’m not paid to write these fanfictions- if you want me to change how I tag things, then start sending me money or 🖕🏻 your bitching isn’t welcome here

I hope you enjoy!

Astarion doesn’t know much about freedom and normal sexual relationships. In fact, he doesn’t know shit about normal relationships period. His entire world is people taking advantage of his body and his lack of freedom- hands scraping at his skin and taking from him.

 You, on the other hand, have thwarted every attempt he has made to please you sexually. 

 You roll your eyes at his pick up lines and his nicknames, you flirt back, but you never take it further when he asks. He asked you to spend time with him in his tent the night before- his plans to seduce you had been destroyed when you brought Lanceboard, he tried to get you to put it away, you suggested he is afraid to lose, and he had to prove that he is definitely not afraid to play Lanceboard with anyone! Especially you- who he was certain he could beat. It ended up being five draws and you won at the end, but it was the most fun he has had in a long time. 

  It’s been three weeks of traveling and his plan to wrap you around his pinkie finger has gone abysmally. Yet- you keep helping him. 

 You aided him in killing the Gur, give him blood as he needs it and make sure everyone knows you support and trust him. The rest of them have the right idea not to, but it warms something deep within him to know you genuinely do trust him. It shouldn’t- you are a means to an end. 

 And yet- here he is, sitting next to you at the campfire and just enjoying your company as you tell him about one of your many adventures before you were swiped up.

 You, the busy body of the group, are exceptionally well traveled and you have been telling Astarion about all the places he needs to see- Evereska, Neverwinter, Althkalta, Waterdeep, Candlekeep- the list goes on and on. 

 Astarion swears he could listen to you talk forever and then some, but it also makes him feel poorly about himself. 

 He has absolutely nothing to offer outside of sex and yet, here you are, offering to take him all around Toril at the end of this journey. 

 “Why?”

“Why what?” You look stunned by his sudden disruption, “why do the people of Daggerford like Cheddar over Mozerrella? I’m honestly not-“

“No- why do you want me to stick around?” His voice comes out more harshly than he intended, “you refuse every proposition I have given you- I haven’t even begun to show off my usefulness and-“

“Usefulness?”

 His eyes snap to yours and you look sad- heartbroken even. Astarion doesn’t need your pity! He doesn’t need more from you when he has already taken so much.

“Well of course,” he scoffs, “you provide me with food- literally- and you talk to me all the time and you spend time with me and ask me what I like and about me-

“And you always help me,” he says uneasily, “and you never ask for anything in return.”

 The silence feels defeaning. 

“I really like you, Astarion,” you say softly, “and I know the importance of finding one’s self and Cazador stole that from you. I also know you think the only positive thing about you is sex and that’s why I refuse to have it with you.

“If- if we have sex,” you look away, embarrassed and red in the face, “I want it to be because we both genuinely want to and we want to enjoy each other. You don’t owe me anything for my kindness, Astarion, I told you we would get this figured out together that day on the beach and I meant it.

“And if you never return my feelings,” you say quickly, “I entirely understand and that is okay too- I would still love to show you the entire world if you want to continue traveling with me after all of this,” you wave your hands wildly, “has been taken care of because you’re my friend- I hope you may consider me yours one day too.” 

 Your smile is so beautiful and sweet. He could fall into you forever and then some. 

 It takes him and you by surprise when he leans forward and leaves a hesitant peck against your lips. 

“I- I would really like to travel with you,” he whispers, “a-and consider your feelings and friendship returned.”

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

----- ----- ----- -----

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[petalruesimblr]

Hello everyone! Lately, I've been interested in creating part-time careers and have been brainstorming various kinds of realistic options that can be used for The Sims 3.

This time, I'm back with a Medical Support Staff part-time career. It combines different part-time roles in the medical field, such as Medical Receptionist, Medical Records Clerk and Medical Scribe and these roles don't necessarily require a license or a college degree.

If you are interested, click on ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures of the Medical Support Staff Part-Time Career.

Medical Support Staff

Sim File Share

Join our Medical Support Staff Team in providing essential support services to our patients and medical professionals. Assist with administrative tasks, provide support to patients and be a vital part of our healthcare operations. Apply now and become a part of our dedicated team making a difference in healthcare!

Career Type: Part-Time Available for: Young Adults, Adults and Elders Available Languages: English Levels: 3 Rabbit Hole: Hospital Work Days: M, T, W, F Work Hours: 9AM - 12PM Does it have Carpool? Yes Does it have Uniforms? Yes (same uniforms used for the Medical career; Bed Pan Cleaner, refer to pictures above) File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3 📣 All descriptions for the levels, tones and metrics as well as skills required, salary, uniforms and other details are provided on the pictures above.

NRAAS Careers Mod

I decided to use game screenshots from The Sims 3 that I took during the testing period instead of creating detailed images because it takes less time compared to the other one and I've been quite busy these past few days. You may have noticed my new post format, which I'm trying out to see if it works for me. Since I started my Simblr account, I've been experimenting with what works or looks good with my theme. Hopefully, I will find something that I'll be happy with. So, I hope you'll be patient with me as I tend to change things every now and then. The Charisma skill is added as one of its metrics because this part-time career mostly involves interacting with patients and fellow medical staff. This includes tasks such as checking in patients, scheduling appointments and coordinating medical procedures with different teams in the hospital. Logic is also the other Metric as I think the longer you work in that setting you will eventually learn the medical jargons especially if you have been promoted to the highest level and need to accurately record everything during patient examinations. As stated above, you will need NRAAS Careers Mod for these careers to show up in the game and as long as you have the latest version of it, it should work for higher patches. You can also read my #psa regarding these careers, click here. I’m not fluent in any other languages to translate so if anyone is interested in translating this career, please don’t hesitate to send me a message here, comment on this post or let me know in my new Ask/Contact form (if you don't have a Tumblr account) and will let you know the details. I have tested this career in my game, so far it is working and all scripts are showing up. All feedback is very welcome to help me learn and improve my skills so please let me know if you experience any problems on your end and I’ll do my best to sort it as soon as possible.

MissyHissy step-by-step tutorial Twallan for the Career Mod S3pe

[morlock-holmes]

I recently found this article about Robin DiAngelo and it's really stuck in my head now. This woman is so instructive about the underlying psychological processes animating us in the early 20s, and it's totally unintentional, which makes her fascinating to me.

Partway through her presentation, DiAngelo asked us, “What are some of the ways your race has shaped your life?” She told us to give our answers to each other and added that if we were white and happened to be sitting beside someone of color, we were forbidden to ask the person of color to speak first. It might be good policy, mostly, for white people to do more listening than talking, but, she said with knowing humor, it could also be a subtle way to avoid blunders, maintain a mask of sensitivity and stay comfortable. She wanted the white audience members to feel as uncomfortable as possible.

In our group of three, Southern, who is white, went first. Like Woods, she was already steeped in DiAngelo’s ideas; Southern had led two church book groups in discussing “White Fragility.” She was fully persuaded that, as she said to me afterward, “we’re all racist in that we’re swimming in a culture that is racist,” and that “we don’t think, as white people, of white as a race that comes with all kinds of conditioning.” Yet, in the moment, in response to DiAngelo’s question, she struggled. She couldn’t articulate much of anything about how she’d been shaped by being white.

I went next. I, too, was ready for everything I heard from DiAngelo. In fact, I knew this very question was coming. Just the day before, I’d been to a session she ran for a fractious city department that agreed to let me watch as long as I didn’t describe the event; the department’s equity team had brought her in to spur white self-awareness. But I had failed to speak about my whiteness as formative. That is, I noted that my color gave me infinite advantages, but the words, while sincere, were passionless. I emphasized instead that three of my five nonfiction books were about race, that I thought about race constantly, that back in junior high my best friend was one of the few Black students in my school, part of an experimental busing program in the early ’70s, and that the way our friendship ended still haunted me, that I’d betrayed him badly.

At some point after our answers, DiAngelo poked fun at the myriad ways that white people “credential” themselves as not-racist. I winced. I hadn’t meant to imply that I was anywhere close to free of racism, yet was I “credentialing”? And today, after a quick disclaimer acknowledging the problem with what I was about to do, I heard myself offering up, again, these same nonracist bona fides and neglecting to speak about the effects of having been soaked, all my life, by racist rain. I was, DiAngelo would have said, slipping into the pattern she first termed “white fragility” in an academic article in 2011: the propensity of white people to fend off suggestions of racism, whether by absurd denials (“I don’t see color”) or by overly emotional displays of defensiveness or solidarity (DiAngelo’s book has a chapter titled “White Women’s Tears” and subtitled “But you are my sister, and I share your pain!”) or by varieties of the personal history I’d provided.

This is like some fucking 70s EST or scientology brainwashing shit.

Like, look at the list of responses to this question:

If you deny that being white shaped your life, that's White Fragility;

If you are too eager to show solidarity, that's White Fragility;

If you share personal history, that's White Fragility

If you talk about times when you were made aware of racism, that's White Fragility;

It seems like pretty much every single thing a white person could possibly say in response to that question is "White Fragility".

DiAngelo is clear that we're all inherently racist, but I want you to attend to the emotions that the author, Daniel Bergner expresses. He and his white colleague are eager to participate, and they know, and have heard, that their participation will be racist, but their primary emotions are anxiety and shame.

They are convinced that they have somehow shamefully failed at a very important task, despite the fact that DiAngelo is very, very clear that there is no way to succeed.

More than that, they feel shame at their desire to succeed, and anxiety at the idea of not trying to succeed.

Honestly as you keep track of the article watch how good DiAngelo is at subordinating people:

The surge of attention, DiAngelo told me, made her at once leery and hopeful. She worried that the posts were “performative,” the book “just a badge.” Yet, she said, “there’s a sense of scales falling from people’s eyes,” mostly because of the killings of Floyd and, before that, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, but also, she believed, because of the work she and her antiracism colleagues have been doing. She felt a similar mix about the ASAP emails from corporations. “The very urgency itself says you don’t have a very deep understanding of how hard this work is, and how long it takes and how ongoing it needs to be,” she said. “Racism is not going to go away by August, so how about we do it in August?”

Being too excited to start being antiracist is evidence of how bad you are at being antiracist!

This woman is a terrifying menace.

What struck me reading both White Fragility and this article is the way that this way of talking and thinking distracts extremely heavily from concrete action. Everything pulls into an increasingly subjective, and religious realm, and the question of what we're actually trying to do recedes back into the fog:

Singleton spoke along similar lines. I asked whether guiding administrators and teachers to put less value, in the classroom, on capacities like written communication and linear thinking might result in leaving Black kids less ready for college and competition in the labor market. “If you hold that white people are always going to be in charge of everything,” he said, “then that makes sense.” He invoked, instead, a journey toward “a new world, a world, first and foremost, where we have elevated the consciousness, where we pay attention to the human being.” The new world, he continued, would be a place where we aren’t “armed to distrust, to be isolated, to hate,” a place where we “actually love.”

Bergner, and basically everybody he interviews, have gotten so excited to tell us whether this is a good idea or a bad one that they have forgotten to explain what "this" actually is.

I want you to do something brave. For a moment, forget that you and I think that it is utterly asinine to devalue "written communication" and let's agree with Singleton, putting emphasis on it is an example of white supremacist thinking.

Let's also pretend that we are teachers. What are we doing differently?

What specific classroom policy are we putting into place?

Are we eliminating all written classroom material?

Are we allowing social studies students to choose whether they prefer to give reports orally or as a finished written document?

Are we doing exactly what we were doing yesterday but trying to keep in mind that we shouldn't assume that a student is stupid just because they struggle with reading?

You'll notice that the range of options goes from "Insane radical thing that the school will never do" to "Something so obvious that basically any sane person will agree that it's a good idea"

You'll also notice that it's like pulling teeth to get anybody to actually put things into concrete terms like that (None of the people interviewed for that article is capable of doing so).

Hell, you know what I didn't notice until just now?

During a training in January 2019 run by [Darnisa] Amante-Jackson , which Chislett recorded, Amante-Jackson...went on to present “some characteristics of whiteness,” prominent among them “an obsession with the written word. If it’s not written down, it doesn’t exist.”

During a later session a white employee causes a giant stir by... wait for it...

Refusing to write on a poster during a brain-storming session.

This is the powerful hypnosis these people are working; you and I can listen to them talk about "obsession with the written word" and it doesn't occur to them or us to ask why so much of their anti-racist workshop revolves around the written word, revolves around demands to use the written word, and grinds to a halt when people refuse.

[jovial-thunder]

Lancer Tactics devlog

I'm gonna try out posting my ~monthly devlog roundup here as well. These suckers are glorified changelogs with anecdotes and gifs galore. Let me know if this is something you like seeing show up on your dash?

Map Editor

Got units able to be placed/deleted/moved in the mission editor

Can paint/remove command zones in the editor

Can paint minecraft-like terrain blocks in the editor

Can paint/rotate multi-tile props in the editor

Can edit unit character sheets and portrait via the editor

3D maps

Did a bunch of art tests with 3D mech models, provided by GeneralChaos, which we ended up deciding not to go with to keep things simple.

To avoid the can of worms that is animation, we'd have to lean into a static "tabletop minatures" aesthetic which we decided is not a style we want to be stuck with. By sticking with 2D sprites, we avoid falling into a sort of uncanny valley; it's easier to get away with not animating a 2D sprite than it is for a 3D model.

 We also experimented with 3D terrain. We decided to make a rule that the visual style for a piece of terrain should match its mechanical effect: obstructing terrain that you can't move through, such as rocks or buildings, will be in 3D, while non-obstructing terrain like trees will stick with 2D sprites.

Hooking up the 3D camera to follow events like movement and attacks did a LOT for making it starting to feel like it's cohering into an Actual Game™

Implemented cover! And an attack preview! Cover works by aiming a ray from the target to the originator (technically to and from each voxel of each, respectively, to handle size 2s shooting above size 1 cover) and tracking all the terrain blocks it hits (how we'll handle non-terrain hard cover TBD). I think I have it working according to Perijove's cover rules manual, but I'm sure there'll be edge cases to work out. This is a case where things are significantly simplified by working in squares instead of hexes; hexes have a lot more possible weird angles you have to deal with.

Re-added what I'm stubbornly calling Combat Popcorn; little bits of text that pop out when you use abilities and attacks.

UI & game screens

Added ability for the engine to show UI that's anchored to the game world via a little word bubble line but also stay on screen as the camera moves around.

Got word bubbles working; you can now write dialogue in the mission editor, hit playtest, and see it work in a mission! (it does actually translate correctly now; this gif is just from a bug I thought was funny)

Got ability effects mostly behaving appropriately again, including muzzle flashes. The easiest way to handle them ended up being NOT billboarding them so they always face the camera (like all other 2D sprites in the game); instead, I put them on a plane parallel with the ground and just spin them around the unit to point at wherever their target is.

Did some work ironing out our tooltip system. The standard in CRPGs these days is this kind of nested labyrinth of tooltops that you see in Baldur's Gate 3:

I Did Not Want to try and figure out how to wrangle that much UI, so we're instead opting to cap the nested tooltips at the second layer. You can lock a general tooltip for e.g. an action and then mouseover various items within that tooltip to get glossary definitions...

...and then instead of having those glossary tips be lockable/mouse-overable themselves, I collect all related terms to that glossary definition and let you tab through them.

Added skin overlay functionality to the portrait maker, enabling textures like scars, tattoos, stubble, and vitiligo to be applied to just the skin and not extend off into space.

Midway through writing this update, Carpenter sent me this gif of the randomization button working! There's a still a bunch of skintones/assets missing and a few are a bit janky, but it was exciting to start seeing the range of these lil freaks (affectionate) that this editor can create.

Mourning cloak license!

This is the one I'm probably most excited about: I did a bit of a content dive and implemented a basic character sheet + all Mourning Cloak traits and equipment. They don't have fancy graphics yet, but the weapons and systems can be added via the character sheet and used in-game.

It took a little under a day, including adding soon-to-be common mechanisms like bonus damage. This is great news in that it means the engine we've been building for so long in the abstract seems to do a great job in handling comprehensive actual game content, and that it looks like we've set ourselves up for success when it comes time to buckle down on churning that out.

I'm sure other licenses will come with unique difficulties (I fear the day it comes time to do the Mule Harness // Goblin CP) but I'm feeling good about it!

Vertical slice?

Taking a step back, the pressing question on my mind has been "when will we have a playable early access build?"

I was originally hoping for Feb/March, but what we've internally been referring to as the "3D cataclysm" has pushed everything back by at least three months, so the target for the first alpha build is now in May. So, ah, thanks for your patience! Seeing things come together, I've become more and more convinced that moving to 3D was the right call.

[therosebud]

Welcome to Sims 4 Romance Reef Challenge!

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If you struggle to stay focused on legacy challenges or any grind-heavy tasks, this challenge is perfect for you. The aim here is to create drama and have fun!

This challenge is inspired by the TV show “Love Island” but with a twist and you do not have to have seen Love Island to enjoy this challenge. However, if you're curious, I recommend watching the Australian or UK versions, as they tend to be funnier and more unfiltered than the American one.

Thank you to the EA Creator Network for giving me early access to create content for you.

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Download the Notion Template on My Patreon

I've created a Patreon for those interested in downloading the Notion template to keep track of all your islanders and progress. Notion is an online organization tool with a Pinterest-like aesthetic. My template provides a layout of the rules and space to detail each Islander. It's not necessary, but it's here if you want it.

For fans of my throwback save file, I will also be re-uploading the save there as it’s more reliable than Sims Share. Thank you for your support over the years on my YouTube channel and other socials. I hope you all enjoy the challenge!

Villa Video Update: If you aren't a builder Don't worry because I will update this post when I upload my speed build of my own villa for you to use. In that video I will also talk about the challenge rules. In the meantime, feel free to build your own or use the gallery to update a villa.

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Initial Islanders: 4 female Sims and 4 male Sims ready to be placed in the villa. They can have any traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Bombshells: An extra 2 to 4 female Sims and 2 to 4 male Sims in a separate household. These "bombshells" are ready to join and shake things up when needed. They can have traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Optional Extra:

💡If you want to be extra, you can register all of them with the labor union and use that space to write out a bio for each Sim, but it isn’t necessary.

💡 If you really want to shake things up you could make each sim have a distinct style. For example, one can be cottagecore, sporty, old money, alternative, beachy, urban, witchy, academia, Barbie, outdoorsy, etc. Here’s a list for ideas.

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Bedroom: One large bedroom with 4 double beds for couples. (And a couple extra single beds if someone gets left out.)

Bathrooms: Multiple shower and bathroom stalls upstairs and additional bathrooms near the gym and pool.

Upper Balcony: Equipped with sun loungers and couches.

Kitchen and Sitting Area: Spacious kitchen and indoor sitting area.

Sundeck: Features a large couch and firepit for eliminations and coupling ceremonies.

Outdoor Kitchen: Includes a barbecue and large bar area.

Dance Floor: Designated area for dancing.

Gym and Yoga Area: Semi-outdoor/indoor setup for exercise and yoga.

Swimming Pool: Large pool area.

Hot Tub or Onsen: Relaxation area with a hot tub or onsen.

Skill Challenge Room: Empty space like a basement to host skill challenges.

Buffet Tables and Drink Trays: Available for parties and events.

Victor Suite: Locked except when won by a gameplay challenge winner. Includes high-end objects like a computer (the only one in the house), spa massage table, fancy tub, and bed.

Secluded Date Area: Gated area to control access for private dates.

Iconic Pathway: Long pathway for eviction ceremonies.

Extras: Poohoo bush, closets, woohoo blankets, and optionally a photo booth for added fun.

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You don’t have to play with mods, these are my recommendations.

UI Cheats: Allows you to view exact relationship points by clicking the "set relationship" button under each sim's romantic relationships.

First Impressions Mod: Provides detailed explanations of sims' initial impressions.

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Weather Settings: Turn off rain, thunderstorms, snow, and blizzards in the game menu. Set seasons to the longest possible duration. Start the game in summer for a Love Island vibe.

Aging: Pause aging to preserve the contestants' ages for post-challenge play.

Free Will: Keep free will turned on to allow sims autonomy in their actions. Micro-manage only for needs; let them pretty much choose their interactions, friendships, and rivalries. The exception of the rule is if you are trying to get everyone in one area to start a gameplay challenge. But make sure you turn it back on after everyone is on their gameplay station. I recommend giving them a few hours to complete the challenge depending on what it is of course. Keep track of the order of who finishes (or stopped) the quickest.

World's: I recommend playing in Sulani or Tartosa for this challenge but the new world Ciudad Emamorada would work too (beware the villa would have to be smaller in that world though.) However, feel free to do this in any world you want but it’s best to play it in the summer season.

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Utilize the in-game calendar system to structure your Love Island challenge. Each round typically spans 4-7 days, depending on your desired pace. Here are the key daily events to plan for:

Private Date Day: Select two or three couples to enjoy a private date in a special area of the villa or off-lot.

Gameplay Challenge Day: Determine the strongest and weakest islanders through skill challenges or quality assessments. The islander with the lowest quality item or skill percentage within a time limit of around 2- 4 in game hours, will risk elimination if they lack significant relationships.

Chaos Spin Day: Introduce random events to stir up drama and unpredictability among the contestants.

Coupling and Elimination Day: Held in the evening on the last day of each round. Contestants dress in formal or party wear for the ceremony. After the first elimination, the gender with numerical advantage chooses their partner first. Those without partners face elimination. Re-coupling may occur if islanders form closer bonds during the round.

"Bombshells": Introduce 4-8 additional sims (evenly split by gender) sporadically in each round to shake up dynamics. Morning of the date day in each round is ideal for their arrival, allowing them to participate in that day’s events.

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On the first day, your goal is to have everyone meet and interact in the villa. Here’s how to get started:

Equal Numbers: Begin with an even number of males and females to form 4 couples in total.

Numbering Sims: Number each sim from 1-8 for easy reference during wheel spins.

Lovestruck Expansion: If you have the Lovestruck expansion, observe the sentiments and dynamics as the islanders interact. Pair up those with stronger connections.

Initial Dates: Start the day with a few different dates. Roll for the number of current islanders to determine who goes on dates. If a new islander or “bombshell” is entering, they will get the date. Choose their date based on sentiments, attraction, and relationship levels.

Natural Relationships: Let relationships develop naturally. Avoid interfering, but you can offer slight encouragement if you notice two sims flirting. The challenge’s fun lies in the organic unfolding of relationships.

⭐️ Keep the first day focused on introductions and initial connections to set the stage for the rest of the challenge!

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Setting Up Private Dates

Use a number roller from 1-8 (or the current number of islanders). The chosen number gets to pick their date based on:

- Attraction system

- In-game sentiments/dynamics

- First interaction

Date Execution:

Unlock the gate for the couple to access the private date area, or teleport them in.

Bombshells:

When a new bombshell arrives, they get 1-2 dates to decide who they want to couple up with.

Limit the total number of dates to 3 per day. For example, a bombshell can have up to two dates, and you can still have one date among current islanders.

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Suggested Skills for Challenges:

- Candle Making

- Cooking

- Painting

- Cross Stitching

- Gemology

- Knitting

- Woodworking

- Flower Arranging

- Media Production

- Mixology

- Nectar Making

- Fitness

- Yoga

- Rock Climbing

- Fishing

- Guitar

- Violin

- Pipe organ

- Juice fizzing

Here’s a list to spin for skill competitions

Challenge Outcomes:

- Winner: The islander with the best quality item, highest skill, timed score (depending on the skill chosen or combo of those) wins a night in the victor suite. They can invite their partner or someone else for added drama. If an unpartnered sim wins, they get a chance to invite someone and potentially steal a partner.

- Loser: The islander with the lowest quality item or skill point is at risk of leaving if they don't form significant relationships by the coupling ceremony. If it comes down to two sims, the one who lost the challenge leaves.

Tips:

☑️ Place skill-related items around the house or in a special skill room to allow sims to use them autonomously. This ensures fairness when spinning for the next challenge.

☑️ Don’t force sims to gain skills; let them choose to do so on their own. Any skill points they gain is all fair game for when it’s time for a gameplay challenge.

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This day is just to keep you on your toes. The randomness will make your experience more customized and help you determine who is good with whom. I numbered these so you can use a number randomizer to determine which one you get for today.

⭐️ You do not have to read all 45 of them right now if you don’t want to. You may skip to the elimination section.

1. Use a number randomizer to determine which girls are getting into a fight today.

2. Use a number randomizer to determine which boys are going to fight today.

3. The couple with the lowest romance is fighting today.

4. The couple with the highest romance is fighting today.

5. Someone in the couple with the lowest romance is getting cheated on today.

6. Someone in the couple with the highest romance is getting cheated on today.

7. An old villager comes back for a day to cause some drama among a couple.

8. Get some activity tables; we’re doing a group puzzle.

9. Everyone gets on the yoga mats for a yoga class.

10. Throw a party of your choice; this can include villagers who have been voted out.

11. An islander of choice must get close with another islander outside their couple.

12. A massage therapist is hired for everyone today.

13. We get a slip and slide for today.

14. We get a couple of bowling alleys for today.

15. Tanning and beach combing day (if you are in Sulani or Tartosa).

16. Use a number randomizer (1-8) to give a sim 1+ skill points for free to use in the next challenge day.

17. Use a randomizer to determine who’s being messy today and woohooing with two different sims.

18. A couple of choice gets a date alone today; a couple with the lowest romance gets a chance to work on their relationship via a date alone.

19. A couple with the highest romance gets a date alone today.

20. Everyone plays a game of basketball.

21. Everyone has to skill up one point, but they each have to do a different skill from one another (and, of course, skills used for competitions).

22. The losers and winners of the last gameplay challenge day go head-to-head in a redo of the competition.

23. A new bromance occurs today.

24. It’s just me and the girls. Two girls get to be friends today.

25. A friendship occurs between a male and female who aren’t attracted to each other.

26. Everyone makes a friendship bracelet.

27. Throw a house party.

28. Throw a dance party.

29. Throw a pool party.

30. A sudden death occurs. You must kill off a sim; roll from 1-8 to determine who dies.

31. An engagement?! Roll 1-8 to see who’s getting engaged with their current coupled-up partner.

32. Tanning! Everyone just works on their tan today. (Maybe an enemy sabotages someone’s tan.)

33. Get a photo studio; let’s take some pictures for the house.

34. Everyone plays a card game.

35. We take everyone to another lot.

36. Take all of the girls to another lot.

37. Take all of the boys to another lot.

38. A double elimination occurs. The two people with the lowest gameplay challenge score go home.

39. They’re back! A female player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

40. They’re back! A male player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

41. Drama! Three islanders go on a date together in hopes of two coupling up.

42. Use the woohoo blanket.

43. Everyone plays darts or foosball.

44. Use a number randomizer to determine who’s getting a secret lover on Cupid’s corner outside of the household.

45. Throw a costume party and have everyone wear a random outfit from the costume trunk.

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The first elimination is based purely on the islander who loses the initial challenge, because not everyone might of made a romantic connection yet.

All other eliminations will be based on who has the lowest relationship(s) and ranking in gameplay challenge.

Set up challenge stations in a large room, like a basement.

Randomize the gameplay challenges for a fun and unpredictable experience. Choose skills that produce items with a quality rating or judge by the highest skill points achieved in a set time.

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Observing Interactions:

Pay attention to Sims naturally interacting, especially if they're already coupled but start talking or flirting with others.

If two Sims start being flirty around each other alone often, you can nudge the relationship by having them flirt once or twice to see if they will keep it going.

Recoupling:

A Sim might choose to recouple if their bond with another Sim grows stronger.

In a love triangle, the Sim that has the least connections (romantic and friend wise) and ranked the lowest among in the gameplay challenges, is the one that will be eliminated.

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Let Cheating Happen: If a Sim cheats, let it play out naturally. Don't intervene in saving Sims if they die; it's part of the challenge. Butlers or maids can be hired to manage the cleaning.

No Careers at the start: None of the Sims should have a career initially. However, you can write them a bio if desired.

Adapt as Needed: If you don’t have a certain pack for a skill or activity, replace it with something you do have.

Managing Needs: Assign a bedtime to ensure needs are met. In the morning, control them to shower and eat. The first Sim up makes breakfast unless you have a hired butler or maid.

Encourage Flirting: It's okay to make Sims flirt or chat generally whenever you like, but for new romances, only initiate flirting once or twice to get things started. Do this only if you notice Sims getting flirty around each other often, as Sims usually won't start a romance autonomously without a mod. After that, don't intervene. If the romance doesn't progress, it wasn't meant to be. Follow their social cues and wants to let you know who they like.

Unlimited Funds: This challenge isn’t about money, so feel free to use the "rosebud" cheat as much as you like. 😉

Rewards: The winners could win the villa and you can renovate it in their style. Alternatively, use them in another challenge.

Questions and Feedback: If you need any clarifications, feel free to ask. If you try out this challenge, tag me! Use the #ts4romanticreef

Sul sul! 🌹

YouTube, Pateron and other socials

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How about Fellow and Gidel staying at the Ramshackle dorm? There's plenty of room, might as well let someone in need use it.

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ As long as they behave and be nice, of course.

(If they do anything suspicious, our ghost buddies are here to help!)

(Who knows, maybe Fellow could even join ghosts on their "selling NRC's mandragoras" thing. His charisma sure is useful)

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“You guys can stay over as long as you behave and be nice!”

That was the one and only condition you had set. Surely they can follow a single rule, you thought. Right?

Well, things started gone south at around lunchtime. Prior to then, Fellow and Gidel had either been lounging on the sofa or sticking their noses into every possible room, nook, and cranny. “Nice place you got here,” Fellow had commented. “Be sure to take good care of it.”

Then noon arrived, and with it, lunch. You were busy finishing a homework assignment when a shrill hiss met your ears. Grim, you realized, and he’s upset.

You set your homework aside and rushed to the source of the sound: the kitchen. “What’s wrong?! What happened?”

You were met with Grim, Gidel, and Fellow, all to the floor. They tugged on the same tuna can, yanking it back and forth, one side to the other.

“Uh… guys?”

Fellow gasped and leapt onto his feet, hands slapped behind his back, as if to conceal evidence of his act. Grim careened back from his released, rocketing into a wall. He desperately clung to his tuna can, even as he slumped from the impact.

“Hey there, kiddo! Done with your schoolwork so soon?” Fellow asked with an anxious chuckle.

“What were you doing just now?”

“What, us? We were lookin’ to grab some grub! Right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded.

“Th-They ganged up on me and tried to take my tuna can!!” Grim wheezed. “I had to defend it with my life, yanno!”

Fellow maintained his grin, but not-so-subtly grinding the heel of one foot on Grim’s pronged tail.

“Mee-OUCH!!” he howled.

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Listen, fellas. I know you’re my guests, and I’d love to have you over for a meal. Really, I would. Problem is, the headmaster only allots us a certain budget every month for groceries, and it just about cover the necessities for me and Grim.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the resources to provide for two extra people. You can have a piece of fruit or bread or something, but I don’t know if I can do a full meal. I feel really bad, but the money’s tight this month.”

“Wh-What…!” Fellow caught his surprise and reeled it in. “Didn’t you say that you had three other roommates? What about them?”

“Oh, they’re…”

“Boo.”

There was a cold breath at his ear, the soft sound of an invader. A shiver radiated from Fellow’s neck, his fur standing on end. He robotically turned, stiffening when he saw a translucent hand grasping his shoulder and three pale faces returning his gaze.

“Heeheehee! Djdja call us?” the Ramshackle Ghosts chorused.

“H-HIIIIIIIIE!! G-G-GHOOOOOSTS!!!!” Fellow shrieked, jolting back in fear. (Gidel’s reaction was far more controlled, eyes swelling wide.)

“Myah?! H-He totally did a 180!” Grim gasped.

“Your new friend’s real jumpy,” Ghost B cackled. “Oh, this fella will be a hoot to have around.”

“Nice to meet ‘cha. Enjoy your stay, and don’t mind us!” Ghost A added. “We’ll just be floating around.”

“Hey. You guys finally decided to show up,” you said casually. “Heading out now?”

“Yup! Those mandrakes aren’t gonna harvest and sell themselves.” Ghost C exchanged a look with his spectral companions. “We’ll be back before dinner though.”

“Alright, see you then… Oh, wait. I have an idea.” You gestured to Fellow (who was still cowering) and Gidel (who stared at the ghosts curiously). “My guests could make do with some money too. Think they could join you for mandrake picking?”

They took one look at the shivering fur mound that was Fellow. Eerie grins crept onto their faces.

“Sure, why not?”

“O-Oi, oi, oi!!” Fellow hissed. “You’re not seriously gonna sell us out to your dead buddies, are you?“

“Gidel seems okay with it,” you noted, pointing. The cat boy had stumbled forward and was now trying to grasp onto Ghost C’s tail. “I guess he’ll go by himself then?”

His expression fell. “What!! No, he can’t…!”

“They’ll be good chaperones to him, promise.”

“That’s not the problem here! You can’t let a kid wander off with total strangers!! What kinda irresponsible adult does that?!”

Touché.

“Then sounds to me like you should go with him,” you suggested nonchalantly. “You know, as his guardian and all.”

“Grrrrr…! FINE!! L-Let’s get to pulling those screaming weeds then. I won’t say no to a job that pays!”

“Good, good. Happy to be workin’ with ya, fella.”

“It’s FELLOW Honest! Get it right, dammit!”

[autistichalsin]

Do you ever just... think about how Halsin's life at the Grove was not only lonely and full of pressure, but also so full of expectations that the image Halsin had to cultivate of himself was nothing like who he was?

Everyone at the Grove only seemed to know of him as a leader, scholar, healer, and powerful Druid. In truth, he hated the first, understood the importance of the second but did not actually enjoy it, was proud of the third but again, didn't consider it part of his identity, and rarely acknowledged the fourth as anything but a way to serve nature.

Even in the way they addressed him it quickly became clear it wasn't who he was. Halsin NEVER shows any comfort using the title of "Master Halsin"; it was a title the others used for him that he reluctantly went along with. The instant he leaves the Grove, he never uses it again. He's just Halsin.

He may have been fond of some of the Druids at the Grove, and most of the others were fond of him right back (hell, even Kagha, if she is pushed away from the Shadow Druids, and then learns that Halsin perished in the goblin pen, laments that she will really miss him)... but none of them saw him. What they saw was a mask he had to wear, a role he had to play, because he had to. Because he was forced to and no one wanted the role back. (And seriously, he was desperate to give it up. It took his Grove nearly being taken over by the Shadow Druids and Halsin having to leave to help end a potentially world-ending threat for them to agree to send a replacement. You can't tell me the guy didn't try to pawn the position off before, only for his Circle to say "no".)

The refugees see him as a protector (which he is) but as the leader, as the most powerful one. The Druids see him as a lot of things- a leader, good or bad; some see him as weak and a failure, others see him as beyond a reproach and someone to put on a pedestal; they see him as the BEST healer of all, the most POWERFUL Druid they know, the SMARTEST, the STRONGEST, an "elf with the presence of a bear"...

But the one thing he can't be around them is "just Halsin."

He couldn't even trust any of them with the full truth when he discovered the altered tadpole; Nettie had suspicions, but he didn't tell her the full truth, he immediately swore off telling Kagha with the reasoning that she would demand answers he couldn't provide (expecting too much from him), and in fact, he was so worried about this that he split his notes into two.

So then along comes the player, who first finds him in an extremely vulnerable position- being tortured by goblins. Halsin says in as many words that he didn't think anyone was coming for him. Halsin didn't think the people he was charged to lead and protect cared enough for him to mount a rescue mission- and he was tragically right. (Granted, for some it was a matter of fear, inexperience, etc, but the fact remains.) The player rescues him, treats him as an equal despite this (and that's what he wants, he wants to be an equal with some expertise to share, not a leader), helps him to correct what he sees as the biggest mistake of his life, possibly pursues a romantic relationship with him where they are kind enough to not even hold it against him where he loses control of his powers and accidentally polymorphs during sex, and, in the newly added post-Drow scene, offers him guidance and counsel on something he's been unable to talk about for over 100 years, admitting that he lost perspective on it for just this reason. He had no peers and was forced into a leadership role so stressful that it made him romanticize his past as a sex slave in his own head because he was that desperate to not be responsible for the wellbeing of others, to not be relied on- even if the alternative was being treated as literal property and his autonomy repeatedly violated. That's how desperate he was.

Halsin's entire arc is how he's been lonely and isolated, always in different ways, but still the same thing. Misunderstood and scorned for his size, or kept as a prisoner, or with few friends, or losing his peers, or being forced into a leadership role with no equals or friends to take care of him, or so focused on his leadership duties that the chance to have a family (which he wanted desperately) passed him by... just one thing after another.

And then people wonder why he falls in love with the player so fast. The player is literally EVERYTHING he has been wishing for for over 100 years, not just in the romantic sense, but for everything. All he wanted was someone who would let him be HIMSELF, no pressures or responsibilities he was woefully unequipped to fulfill.

[sonkitty]

The Food Curse

Here is my currently forming head canon based on little clues from the Good Omens story of seasons 1 and 2.

Crowley either does not eat food at all or Crowley is never allowed to be seen eating on camera.

There's more to it than that because he can eat indirectly, but that's the core thing I'm going to ramble on about in this post. It's going to sound like one of my theories, but that's force of habit from how I come up with questions and check my own theories.

I'll acknowledge that I've seen more than one Good Omens fan post about food being equal to sex in Good Omens and say that you're not going to find that kind of discussion here. It's my head canon, and I prefer my incoming approach to it.

I don't talk about my religious background much because it's personal, so you'll have to make do with me saying I have learned the following from reading Good Omens posts and not being well-versed in biblical references already. I don't remember if any sources I read this information from expressed a similar theory or head canon though you would think that's where I got the idea.

I'm under the impression the GO universe favors the New King James Version of the Bible, and according to a quick Google search, that one says of God addressing the serpent who tempted Eve:

Because you have done this, You are cursed more than all cattle, And more than every beast of the field; On your belly you shall go, And you shall eat dust All the days of your life.

...

An interpretation of this curse is that it means the Serpent of Eden cannot eat food, or, if he does, it will turn to dust.

Let's examine the clues provided by the story, for fun and/or curiosity.

In season 2, episode 1, during Before the Beginning, we see Crowley's wings are graying, indicating to us that his Fall was a process. It was not an instant thing. It started with this questioning and frustration at learning the fate of the universe ending in a mere 6,000 years.

In season 1, episode 5, Crowley is found getting drunk and talking about his Fall. One of his remarks is, "Oh, hey, the food hadn't been that good lately."

These described events would be from before the temptation that caused this curse, but I noticed them all the same because I'm looking for such things.

We catch glimpses of other supernatural beings describing events before the Fall, but I don't think any of them ever mention food for that time period.

From the scenes we have of Eden in the first two seasons, the story skips over God saying such a curse exists to the serpent. We see Crawley slithering on his belly and then able to rise, transforming into a man-shaped demon with black-feathered wings. He's not eating dust.

Well, even though we never see God curse the Serpent of Eden, the story leaves clues that something resembling this curse is active with Crowley. You know, in case you want to form a head canon about it.

In 2500 BC, Crowley successfully tempts Aziraphale into eating food, and he looks very pleased with himself at his success.

My head canon at this point goes that Crowley himself is feeding off the success of his temptation. Crowley feeds off Aziraphale when Aziraphale eats. This feeding does not last for only this one session. It can and does happen from that point onward. Crowley feeds off Aziraphale this way at least when the two are near each other by some unknown distance.

In Rome, 8 years after 33 AD, Crowley says he's never eaten an oyster. Aziraphale quickly goes into saying something about letting him tempt Crowley into...oh wait, that's Crowley's job. Crowley was successful at this job with Eve and later Aziraphale, for getting each of them to eat something while he himself did not visibly eat anything.

In 1601, Crowley shows up while Aziraphale is ordering food at the Globe Theater. The two have a conversation, and Crowley, as usual, expresses no interest in eating the food himself. He can still be feeding off Aziraphale eating.

On and on it goes. In season 1, episode 1, Crowley and Aziraphale reference Paris, 1793. Aziraphale says, "We had crepes." Well, if Aziraphale ate the crepes, and Crowley fed off Aziraphale eating the crepes, that's a way they had crepes. Aziraphale doesn't feel the need to rephrase it in that way. It's a thing they did together nonetheless.

Crowley plans a heist in 1967 at the Dirty Donkey. No one is having food at that meeting. The other three with him are all humans.

When Crowley meets up with Hastur and Ligur at the graveyard for the "11 years ago" of season 1, episode 1, Crowley departs, saying, "Ciao." Ligur asks what that means, and Hastur answers, "food." No one ate food of course, but since we're looking at Crowley with a possible food curse, it's a curious thing to be there, just like him mentioning "food" when drunkenly talking about his Fall.

When Crowley convinces Aziraphale to go with him to the Ritz for the "11 years ago" time period, Crowley does not have a plate of food. He has a cup with a spoon a saucer, presumably for a drink. He strokes his chin to show him enjoying himself, feeding off Aziraphale eating.

In season 1, episode 2, Crowley and Aziraphale go to a cafe. Crowley is not shown to be enjoying himself feeding off Aziraphale eating, but Crowley's side of the table definitely lacks a plate while having a cup. That indicates he's fine with drinking something, not bothering with eating something, just like when they went to the Ritz 11 years ago.

In season 1, episode 3, Crowley meets up with Shadwell at a diner. Crowley has no drink and no food while they meet. Neither does Shadwell.

In season 1, episode 4, Crowley is found mostly alone in a theater with a container of popcorn. We never see him eat the popcorn, but we at least know he was holding it, and Aziraphale is not around. That could be for show since he considers it part of the human experience being in a theater. I could just be wrong, it's just a head canon after all. He may have done it anyway and just eaten the dust that formed once it went into his mouth. Or, maybe he can eat, but the silly rules of the Good Omens story are that he's never allowed to be seen eating on camera due to his food curse.

In season 1, episode 6, Aziraphale, while pretending to be Crowley, orders them some ice cream and passes one to Crowley, while Crowley is pretending to be Aziraphale. We don't see what became of Crowley's ice cream, but it disappears from the framing very quickly once the camera moves away from him, then back to him. During the actual kidnapping, his mouth is even taped shut. Much like the popcorn in the theater, the ice cream could have been for show. He may have endured eating the dust. He may have devoured it very quickly when the camera wasn't looking.

Later in the same episode, at the Ritz, the table has plenty of food though actually both Crowley's and Aziraphale's main plates where you would expect food to be are empty.

Whatever happened to that plate of Eccles cakes in season 2, episode 1? I don't know. We may never know, but this head canon offers something.

Aziraphale is implied to have ordered those Eccles cakes for Crowley in the hope that they will calm Crowley down with the news about Gabriel being in the bookshop. We know that those Eccles cakes are shown untouched and uneaten before Crowley stormed out.

Crowley is shown to angrily walk away in the street after shooting out lightning that traps Maggie and Nina in the coffee shop. Then a scene in Heaven happens. By the time we get back to Earth, Crowley has calmed down. He's still upset, he's tired, but he's calmed down. So, maybe, very very big maybe, Aziraphale ate those Eccles cakes, Crowley fed off it or felt it, and calmed down. Even if that's true, that suggests some allowable distance with thresholds between them for this magic to work.

Obviously, things happen to get Crowley worked up again with being summoned to Hell, but he had calmed down. When Crowley returns to the bookshop, the plate of Eccles cakes is no longer there.

Over the course of season 2, we don't see Aziraphale eating as much as what we saw in season 1. To my recollection, he only visibly eats one time during the present day storyline, and it's a travel sweet while driving Crowley's car. We learn that Crowley can feel his car despite the distance between them. He can feel quite specifically that Aziraphale eats during that drive and even what Aziraphale is eating. My head canon figures that's part of Crowley's demonic power able to feed off Aziraphale when Aziraphale eats.

In season 2, episode 5, Aziraphale passes a platter to Crowley saying, "Have a vol-au-vent." Crowley is left speechless and eventually drops the platter in annoyance, never shown to have eaten any of the food on it.

Aziraphale sometimes seems aware of this curse and sometimes doesn't. That would be part of the curse's own magic. The more caught up Aziraphale is in what he is wanting or doing, the less aware he is of the curse itself being there.

Another thing about this curse is that if Crowley touches food or the container holding the food, it's usually a bad omen for him. When he has the popcorn in hand, Hastur shows up on the screen to threaten him. When he's holding the ice cream, he is kidnapped. With the plate of Eccles cakes, he is confronted with Gabriel being n the bookshop. For the vol-au-vent platter, that one's a little different since a threat is already known with him on alert, and it takes a longer amount of time for something as dramatic as the brick through the window.

So, with all these little clues that Crowley can feed off Aziraphale eating food, the next question for a silly fangirl like myself is, "What does that mean for all of humanity?"

Crowley tempted Eve into eating the apple. Did he feed off that? Does he feed off humans whenever they eat anything or just apples or just giving into temptation?

Well, the story doesn't say so much as it leaves room for something to be imagined. If Crowley is on screen, humans might be seen drinking and they might have food near them, but I am yet to find any scene of them putting actual food into their mouths to confirm that they can and will clearly eat when the camera is watching as Crowley is on screen with them.

So, what do I imagine?

Well, my instinct is that Crowley himself would flicker in visibility if the camera were watching since we're not allowed to ever see it.

That's just my instinct.

From there, I just go with what I like of fantasizing him as a powerful demon. He feels it. It affects him. And yes, he feeds off it. We're not allowed to see it happen, but he does. He is a very well fed demon.

...

Oh, and another little oddity with this idea is that during the big food fight for Warlock's birthday, party, the food definitely does not land on Crowley, even if it gets on the kids, on Aziraphale, and some of the other wait staff. That could be Crowley's own magic in guarding himself, just not wanting to get messy, as some other explanation, if I wanted to venture that way with this head canon. I'll stick to it being part of this food curse since it's part of the broader group of little clues.

...

I have a generally good memory of events in the show by now, but things still slip between trying to remember it all. So, if I remember something worth adding or noting or correcting, I will do whatever seems best for those options.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Monthly Pity Party (Supernatural One-Shot)

Team Free Will x AFAB!GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Your cramps are kicking your ass this month, though you do wish the boys would quit throwing pity parties for you.

Fic type: period comfort

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I think I might actually die, like, for real," you groaned, rubbing at your forehead irritably. "I mean- if we ever do find the bastard, I'd like to ask why he or she or they said 'fuck you in particular' to people with vaginas and uteri and all that bullshit."

"Yes, it's not something I was able to fully understand from his plans," Castiel replied, seeming to only be half listening. Your hand shot to your lower belly, breath sucking sharply between your teeth. "Though it does serve a purpose... if... that may provide some comfort to you."

"You know," you groaned, resisting the urge to curl yourself into a ball and pass away on the spot. "It really doesn't, Cas."

Sam stood from his favourite spot at the table, picked your socked feet off the end of the lounge and sat down again while pulling them into his lap. You gave the gentle giant a soft yet strained smile and he squeezed your left foot to show he was listening.

"Dean will be back soon," he said by way of comfort. You were also pretty sure it was a diversion to nip your conversation with Castiel in the bud before it got too heated or too existential. You had a habit of doing that during your time of the month.

Speaking of- the sound of the bunker door closing heralded the arrival of beers for the boys and treats for you. Special treats that you only really reserved for that horrendous week once a month where you weren't able to hunt half the things on your to-get list, or even sometimes able to stay awake for longer than three hours.

"All right," came Dean's voice from around the corner. "Party time. I've got the goods. Beer, pie, skittles, and... all the other crap you asked for." He placed the two bags of groceries and goodies onto the coffee table before gesturing for you to move so he could settle down on the couch with you.

You made space for him and then he patted his lap for you to lay back down again. You settled your head down in his lap as he used his arm to screw the lid of his beer off and chucked the metal disc onto the table.

"Oh Cas, I forgot to heat the thing up," Dean mumbled, giving you an apologetic squeeze on the shoulder before pointing to your homemade wheat bag. "Be a good Angel and do the thing?"

Castiel picked up the wheat bag and disappeared into the kitchen. Hopefully after his stint as a human, he'd know how to use the microwave to heat it up properly. Honestly though, if your skin was able to withstand it, you'd love the direct heat of the sun over your cramps.

Dean leaned forward, grabbed one more beer from the table and passed it to his brother who thanked him quietly. Then he passed you the bag of skittles and watched you rip the thing open and shove a handful into your mouth with a moan of relief that bordered on pornographic.

"I don't know how you eat those," Dean said sceptically. You chewed on the lollies a few more times before swallowing.

"They taste good," you replied as if that was a good enough answer to it all. "And shut up, I've seen some of the stuff you've shoved down your gullet."

"Shut up, Sam-" Dean quipped as Sam snorted out a laugh at your signature bantering. "But fair point."

You let out another hiss as your cramp amped it up once again. Your voice evened out into a rather pained and elongated word not fit for young ears and Dean's brows furrowed in concern.

"Dean, you get like this every month. It's just a few days of discomfort- and if Cas wasn't so wiped right now, he'd make it all go away for me. It's nothing I can't handle. Promise."

Dean took a moody sip of his beer and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I don't have to like it, all right?"

You were saved from having to put too much thought into your response as Cas reappeared from the kitchen, wheat bag in hand. He handed it to you and you placed it over your abdomen. Instantly the heat began soaking through your skin to ease the ache beneath.

"I'm sorry I can't heal you in my current state," Castiel apologised before sitting down stiffly in the single-seater armchair. You sighed, chowing down on a couple more lollies.

"Look guys," you said, pulling your head and feet out of the Winchesters' laps and sitting up. You pressed the heat pack against your abdomen and leaned back against the couch. "I know you all mean well, but it's just a period. You don't have to pity me. I'll be all right after some Advil and some comfort food. A snuggle or two wouldn't hurt either. But I'm not going to have any more of these pitiful apologies and concerned looks."

The three of them looked at each other and then back at you again. Dean and Sam both took a swig and nodded respectfully.

"Sure thing," Sam replied with one of those blink-and-you-miss-it acknowledging smiles.

"Uh-huh," was Dean's answering reply. You knew what that meant. He'd humour you for a day or two and be right back at his usual schtick. But that was fine. You kinda liked it when he was just a little worried over you.

"Right then," you said decisively, giving Castiel a very pointed look. "I'm going to lay back down and we're all going to watch a movie. I am going to grumble about my cramps and we're all going to have a great time, yes? Good."

"Yes dear," Dean reached for the remote for the television. "Now- Cas, I know better than to ask our menstruating friend here what we're gonna watch so- your pick."

[accio-victuuri]

some minor candies dumped together.

my motto is that some bits in this fandom seem small sometimes but you will never know when it will be useful to piece things together in the future.

let’s start with this. HAHAHAHAHA! i always love the contrast between them. zz all cutesy and sweet then you have yibo in a supposed cute fit but that serious face. i love them please! 🥹🥹🥹🥹

moving on to the lovely this or that video released by jimmy choo on their instagram. he was asked whether he prefers skateboards or bike. i guess it’s a no brainer that he will answer skateboard because that has always been his passion but for some reason he answered bikes. maybe he’s doing another thing related to it that we know nothing about.

but it makes us think of another person who loves to go biking. thinking about them doing this activity together as a form of exercise is nice!

maybe we are overthinking it the way we usually do but it’s so out of the expected yibo answer. 🤷🏻‍♀️ plus knowing how prominent a “bike” pops up in xz vlogs. actually, even in the ideal life painting you have a bike.

speaking of jimmy choo, that had it’s own clownery in on itself. lol. these poses from our boys:

I’m so so proud of them for being global brand ambassadors from these brands and continuing to dominate c-ent in their own way/s. with little to no scandal. and how their photos always seem to match. i swear it’s not just the cpf in me that sees these and goes they look good together. they really do even if you are a passerby.

of course xzs and ybo have to join in and give us some sweets. both of the caption saying let’s start… // let’s listen.. so in that way it’s similar. and you have that emoji. at this point the way these two teams seem to have the same posting style is not new. adding this to the very long list 📝

this one is my favorite. so lately, ybo has been posting these sort of postcards to promote ETU. largely with actual snaps from the show which are obviously provided by the production team. but this one photo released seems so special cause it’s an artwork. and yes, a huge part of this is because i’m a cpf and gg as yibo’s personal artist has always been a headcanon truth among us.

however, look ⬇️⬇️⬇️

it seems to have that same style/feel as xz’s previous works. that almost whimsical feel and how it’s colored.

fans even did an edit. do you see it now? ✨

-END.