#well lamp and twin mostly

[potato-lord-but-not]

goretober batch 3 !!! these are kinda silly tbh

[tmntfixationxreader]

"Hello author! I've read some of your other works and I thought they were great, so I have a request for you.

Would you be willing to write a Rise Raph x reader where they're having a sleepover? Raph is nervous about wearing his retainer around them but doesn't realize that the reader also has a retainer until they put theirs on, fluff ensues.❤️🙏🙏🙏"

Sure thing! Thanks for the request :)

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♡Self conscious sleepover♡

~During a sleepover, Raph gets worried about wearing his retainer~

Warnings: None, just fluff :)

Word count: 933

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You had just had an amazing, long night with the gang.

Raph had invited you over for a sleepover, so you could hang out with him and his brothers, watch movies, play games, and chill.

It was getting late now though, even for them. Mikey was already passed out on the couch you all had been watching movies on. Leo was sitting in front of the couch watching Jupiter Jim intently, and Donnie was typing something on his wrist watch, as he was ‘definitely too busy to watch the Atomic Lass special’.

Raph yawned once, displaying his fang and teeth before stretching his back as he sat forward. He noticed how sleepy you were looking, and decided it was probably time for the two of you to head to bed.

“Y/n, you ready to head to Raphs’ room?” Raph asked, looking sleepy himself.

You yawned as well and nodded. “Yeah, probably…”

Raph nodded, definitely ready for bed; But he was the older brother, and had to make sure his younger siblings would go to bed too.

“Leo, last movie. Seriously, you won’t get any sleep. Same for you too Donnie, and no lab work past midnight.”

“Yes yes dear brother, I know the rules,” Donnie said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand before typing more stuff onto his wrist watch.

“Don’t worry Hermanos, I’ll make sure Don Tron goes to bed…. Aaaand I won’t stay up past midnight either…” Leo said, giving Raph a smile before turning his attention fully back to the screen.

Raph sighed, content with their answer. “You two will sleep… Trust me, I’ll know if you didn’t.” He tucked Mikey in with a blanket before getting up from the couch.

“Ready Y/n?”

You nodded happily and sleepily, telling the twins goodnight before getting up from the couch yourself.

Raph’s bedroom was nice. It was large, decently organized, and decorated with a few scattered posters. You noticed the small (some larger) scratch marks on the walls from his spikes. He had a large bed, big enough for the two of you to sleep on. Actually, you guessed that it was a king sized bed and a twin mattress pushed together to make one large bed.

“I like your room,” You smiled, setting your bag down. You had already gotten changed into your pj's, brushed your teeth and hair, ready for bed. One last thing was needed, though, to complete your routine. You squatted down next to your bag, digging through its contents to find your retainer.

“Thanks,” Raph smiled, and sat down on his bed, having already finished his nightly routine… But, he needed his retainer, too. It was sitting on his mostly bare nightstand, next to a small lamp. He didn’t keep much on it, more than once he had knocked the contents off during the night.

He was nervous to get it out, looking over at it more than once as the two of you talked.

“It kind of reminds me of my own room… I especially like your squishmallows collection,” You smiled at him over your shoulder, still digging around in your bed.

Raph smiled a toothy smile. “Thanks! I like to collect them… Kind of hard to do that without spending a lot of money, though… Most of them are ones my brothers have given me over the years”

You nodded. “Cool! Seems like your brothers knew just what to get you then.”

Raph looked over at the small box on his nightstand. He was nervous about wearing it in front of you. He had only ever worn it in front of his brothers, and he was worried of what you would think of it… Especially because it was shaped around his fang and looked a little strange.

Finally your fingers found the container your retainer was kept in.

You pulled it out of your bag, opening the small plastic container with a click

Raph blinked. “You… Wear a retainer?” He asked as you put it on, fitting it inside your mouth.

After a short moment of muscle memory, you closed the container and put it back in your bag with a nod and a smile. “Yep, I wear a retainer.”

You glanced at Raph to see his reaction, and was pleasantly surprised when Raph’s face lit up into a smile.

“Really? I wear one too!” He said, grabbing his container from his nightstand. “Raph was a little nervous about wearing it in front of you…”

You raised your eyebrows. “Nervous? Why?” You smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Raph nodded, feeling a little better. “I don’t know… I was just self conscious.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be! I would never make fun of you for it or anything, even if I didn’t wear one myself.”

Raph smiles, and you zip up your bag. He opened the small plastic container, putting the plastic retainer over his teeth.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, clearly relieved.

“Thanks Y/n,” He smiled, and scooted so you could take half of the bed. You sat down next to him with a smile, patting his shoulder.

“No problem… Seriously, don’t stress about it…. No one should ever make fun of you for it,” You say, laying down next to him on your half of the bed, pulling the blankets up over yourself. It was getting really late, and you could immediately tell how tired you were.

Raph smiled and nodded, pulling the gigantic blanket over half of himself too.

“Good to know…Thanks,” He said, sleepiness settling into his eyes and muscles.

“Anytime Raphie…”

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Hope you like it! I'm really busy working on some personal and long requests, so I took a break to do some shorter ones :)

Bye bye butterflies!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Ok remember that one shot where Adam finds out he’s pregnant, can we please please PLEASE get a part two where Adam (mostly Adam) and Lucifer are going through the turmoils of pregnancy including, morning sickness, hot flashes, weird cravings, and my oh so favorite mood swings

Okay! Part 2 of Adams surprise pregnancy.

Adam groaned as he rolled out of bed, hand going to his extended belly. He was about six months pregnant now, and the cheeky little shits liked jumping on his bladder making him pee all damn night. They were having twins, but wanted to keep the genders a surprise. "Seriously my babies? This is the fifth time tonight." Adam walked to the bathroom, his bladder felt full.

Might as well get ready for the fucking day he was up.

A wave of nausea hit him, oh no. Adam threw up in the toilet. Damn morning sickness. "You okay in there love?" Lucifer asked from the doorway.

"Just fucking peachy." Adam cleaned up and left the bathroom.

-

For breakfast Adam got Lucifer to go to that good place on Main Street. He got an egg, bacon and cheese English muffin with pickles, tomato, the muffins replaced with donuts and everything dipped in hot sauce.

For whatever reason, he needed to eat hot sauce with everything. Didn't matter if it was sweet or not. He craved spicy foods. And ice cream, he couldn't get enough of mint chocolate chip. "Mmm, this is so fucking good."

"If you say so." Lucifer wrinkled his nose as he ate his normal pancakes.

Adam was practically vibrating with how happy food made him lately, it was weird. Oddly enough, he didn't want ribs.

Adam reached over and took the pickle jar and drank half the juice. He ate the rest of the jar and polished off the juice. "We need more pickles."

"I'll get more this afternoon, my love. More hot sauce and ice cream as well?"

"Yes, thank you Luci.~" Adam placed many kisses on his boyfriends cheek and nuzzled him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

-

"Oh my god you hate meeeee." Adam sobbed, tears pooled in his golden eyes. "You're yelling, you hate me!"

"I don't hate you! Adam, sweetie-"

"Then why are you yelliiiinnngg!" The rational part of Adams brain said no, Lucifer didn't yell he was just speaking up so he could hear him. But his pregnancy brain said otherwise and that part won.

His emotions have been all over the place lately.

Lucifer wrapped his arms around Adam's waist rubbing his baby bump. He spoke softly. "I love you, hun. I'm sorry I raised my voice."

Adam sniffed. "I love you too."

"And here I thought you were a whiney bitch before." Came Alastors voice and Adam's temper sky rocketed. His golden eyes flashed red, his blood boiled.

"THE FUCK DID YOU CALL ME YOU BAMBI REJECT!?" Adam roared, he picked up the closest thing by him, a lamp, and threw it at the radio demon who dodged and laughed at him. This only served to piss Adam off more.

"Shhh shh shh, think of our babies love." Lucifer tried to sooth, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Adam's belly. A baby kicked. Adam placed his own hand on his belly as he glared Al down. "I'll handle this." Lucifer whispered in his ear.

"Yes, think of you little devil spawns." Alastor sneered in disgust. He blinked when he felt a harsh grip on his shoulder.

Lucifer had brought out his full demon form grinning madly. "No speaks to him that way."

Adam sighed dreamily as he rubbed his baby bump and watched his love beat the holy hell out of Alastor. "Your daddy is truly amazing.~"

-

"Holy shit balls it's fucking hot in here." Adam laid on the bed, only in his boxers. He had fans pointed at him as he felt like he was on fire. He knew Hell was hot but damn!

He felt so warm he wanted to peel his skin off.

Lucifer was on the bed beside him, pressing a cold damp cloth to Adams forehead. It helped a bit.

-

"Luci, hey Luci, you awake?"

Lucifer cracked an eye open. "What is it?"

"Can you go get me something to eat from that place we love? Pleeeeease?"

Lucifer looked at the time. "It's 2am, I'm not sure they're open."

"I called they are." Adam grinned widely. He straddled Lucifer's hips and ground his ass on his dick, Adam gave a weak moan when he felt him twitch. "I'll make it worth it for you. That's not the only meat I want in me.~" He gasped when Lucifer jolted his hips up.

Lucifer sat up and placed a kiss on Adam's baby bump before kissing him on the mouth. "Of course my love.~"

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 22 (finale)

Holy shit...now what?

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of unsupportive family members. Thanks again to the Sims for determining the outcome of this pregnancy. Mentions of breast feeding (a fed baby is a happy baby, no matter where it comes from!). Mentions of being in pain and on pain killers (C-section). Hospital setting but it's not too obvious. Mention of drinking wine. Like one swear word. Not proofread (what a surprise). Word count: 4,256 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This is it! The last chapter! Thank you again to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged any parts of this fic along the way, even when I took a 3 month break. It's been an experience writing this, but I've enjoyed every second of it 😊

Also, the poll figures showed that you mostly thought the twins would be girls!

Part 21 ● Series Masterlist

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the sting in your abdomen from your Caesarean wound and fresh stitches, where the painkillers were starting to wear off.

The second thing you notice is that it’s still dark outside, meaning it’s either very late at night, or very early in the morning.

The third thing you notice is, although it’s dark out, your room is softly illuminated by a small lamp in one corner of the room. You see Santi sat in the chair in the corner, looking down at the bundle in his arms, who was sleeping soundly, the second bundle sleeping equally as soundly in the plastic hospital bassinet by you.

You slowly sit up in your bed, hissing at the pain in your abdomen. You see Santi from the corner of your eye look over at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Do you need me to call for a doctor?” he whispered, still sounding too loud in the quiet room.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” Santi nods at you before turning back to the baby in his arms. You watch them for a minute, a fond smile on your face before you ask, “Is she okay?”

Santi gives his own smile before nodding. “She was fussing a little, but she went right back to sleep.”

You nod, looking at your new family.

Your daughters (daughters!) came into the world screaming and kicking. Isabela María, named after Santi’s mother, was born at 7:03pm, weighing 5lbs and 7oz. Her identical sister, Jasmine Terese, followed no more than six minutes later, entering the world at 7:09pm at 6lbs exactly. Dr Montgomery was impressed with their weights and sang your praises as she held them over the partition to show you each time, and they were the most perfect things you had ever seen. You had immediately burst into tears as soon as you saw the two of them.

They both had a head of dark hair, thanks to their daddy, and even as they scrunched their little faces as they cried, you thought they were the most beautiful things to have ever graced your life. Once they were measured and checked over, and wrapped up in some blankets, Dr Montgomery had them brought over to you and Santiago (who had been quietly sobbing to himself, but you’ll pretend you never noticed until the day you died).

The next hour or so was a blur to you as you were stitched up and the twins were taken away to the NICU for monitoring, to see how well they were breathing. With some reassurance from yourself that you would be fine, Santi never left the girls’ sides, keeping a watch over them. You saw him sneak some photos of the girls on his phone, looking like a proud dad.

You were wheeled out of theatre and were heading back to you room where you sent a text message to your friends, explaining that your babies were sent for monitoring. Santi was with them, and if they wanted to wait, they could, but it might be better for them to come back tomorrow. Your friends came to see you anyway, just for a few minutes, where Beth was FaceTiming Gabrielle to keep her in the loop.

As soon as Beth and Courtney saw you, they burst into tears, making their way over to you and enveloping you in a hug, telling you how proud they were of you and how amazing you did. You fought back tears of your own, telling them that you had had girls, which they both somehow cried even harder at, commenting on how you were all convinced you were having boys.

After some more fussing, and Courtney gathering her things, they promised that they’d be back the next day to meet them, and they would bring you some food from home because they knew how terrible hospital food was. You give them a goodbye, telling them to let Santi’s friends know that he wasn’t going to be out for a while, to which Courtney said that Santi had already text his friends to let them know to come back in the morning, and the guys left not that long ago. Knowing them, they’d be back the next day too.

Santi was back within an hour of your friends leaving with Dr Montgomery, wheeling your girls (your girls!) in their bassinets. Dr Montgomery gave you a smile, telling you that your daughters were perfect, that there were no issues, and you would probably be home in the next few days. You thank her profusely, before you and Santi are finally left alone for the first time as a new family. Santi dressed the twins which took longer than it should have (“They’re delicate! Have you seen the size of them!?”), and your heart fluttered in your chest at seeing them in their little outfits, looking soft and cosy.

A breastfeeding consultant was sent to your room to guide you through your first feed with your daughters, who took to it like a duck to water. You wanted to cry with pride, since they were doing so well already, being barely two hours old. You saw Santi look away with a slight blush on his face, causing you to smirk and make a quip about how he’s seen you naked (to which he gave you a look before turning away again, to strip out of his scrubs). He made a comment about going getting his overnight bag from the car, and quickly making his way out.

You felt a little bad that he felt uncomfortable around you still, but it was something you would both just have to work on.

Which brings you to now, where you watch Santi from his place in the armchair, holding Isabela as she slept. You frown at him. “Have you gotten any sleep at all?”

Santi hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not yet.”

“Santi,” you gently chastise. “Put her down and get some sleep.”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, I’m fine. Besides, what if she needs me again?”

Oh, be still your beating heart.

“I’m sure she’ll wake us up if she needs anything, and Jasmine,” you say gently.

With a final look at Isabela, Santi gives a sigh before carefully standing and taking her to her bassinet. He stands at the bassinet for a moment, just looking at her before he gently places her down. She made the smallest whimper before settling back to sleep with a big sigh. He slowly moves her bassinet to join Jasmine’s, before stopping and looking down at them both.

Santi doesn’t move immediately, just staring at his daughters, before he finally breaks the silence in the room.

“I can’t believe I almost gave this up,” Santi said quietly, sadly, without looking away from your babies.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy with the weight of Santi's confession. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a mixture of regret and self-doubt as he uttered those words that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of uncertainty, and you felt your heart break for him.

As you shook your head gently, your eyes met his. “Don't...don't think about that, okay?” you murmured softly, with a mixture of understanding and compassion. “You're here now.”

The silence lingered. Santi's gaze shifted, descending upon the tiny figures nestled in their bassinets, their innocence a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I was in special ops,” he says, his voice tinged with just the smallest hint of disbelief. “And that was less scary than this.”

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, the admission of his innermost fears laid bare before you. With a sympathetic gaze, you say, “Being a new parent isn't something that people just know what to do,” you reassured him gently. “We'll learn as we go, and it's okay to be a little scared.”

As you looked at Isabela and Jasmine, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a beacon of hope amidst his darkness of doubt. “They'll be so happy you stayed,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “They're going to love you, so much.”

Just as much as I love you.

You swallow against the words, knowing now isn’t the right time.

A fragile smile graced Santi's lips at your words, where he gives you a quick glance before his gaze falls back on the sleeping forms of his daughters, the most fragile beings in the entire world. Damn, no-one warned him they’d be so tiny. They were so peaceful and asleep, and they were so small! They were the most fragile things in the world. There was no way he was letting anything happen to them. They had to stay little forever so he could do everything for them.

“I want to be the father they deserve,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a newfound resolve. “To be the man they can look up to.”

“You already are,” you assured him, your words almost stern. He looks up at you, his eyes intense. “I know you’re doubting yourself, but you’ve got a great support system; you have me, Frankie, Will, and God knows Benny is already in love with these two.”

Santi gave a snort of amusement. “He’s gonna cry as soon as he lays his eyes on them.”

You give a small laugh before looking at him again with a soft look on your face. “You know, when you left after saying you didn't want to be involved...it hurt. It hurt more than I can put into words," you began, your tone mix of vulnerability and strength. “I felt abandoned, alone, and completely overwhelmed, but I was determined to do it alone, for our girls.”

Santi tenses, a look of shame overcoming him, but you continue before he could say anything.

“But you came back," you say. “And for that, I'm incredibly grateful. I’m happy that you chose to step up, to be here, to be a father to our kids.” You smile at him, seeing his shoulders relax a touch. “Though I’m still a little pissed that you left, I'm also thankful that you came back. I’m glad that we can navigate this crazy, beautiful mess together.”

Santi give a small chuckle before he reaches out to you, and you reach out to hold his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, for leaving. For making you feel like that, after everything we’d been through to get here,” he said. “I’m going to live with the guilt for the rest of my life, but fuck, knowing I made the right decision to come back was so worth it.”

And in that moment, amidst the commotion of your new reality, you finally felt a sense of unity with Santi, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You don’t know what the future held for the two of you, if you’d ever admit your feelings for him, of if you’ll eventually move on and find someone else, but despite that, you were bound together by the unbreakable bond of parenthood, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

However, in that fleeting moment, amidst the silence of the early morning hours in that hospital room, there was a small feeling of hope, slowly blossoming like a fragile flower.

“Watch her head, Benny.”

“I know how to hold a baby,” said Benny, giving Will a firm look before his expression softened as he looked down at Jasmine, who was sleeping soundly after you had just fed her and Isabela.

Isabela was settled in the arms of Frankie, who was lightly swaying as he grinned at the bickering brothers. Santi had left the room to take a phone call with his sister, Mariana, who had been checking up on him every few hours and was trying to organise a day where she and his other sister, Carmen, could come and visit and meet you and the kids. He was trying to put her off for at least a few weeks, until there was some sort of routine.

After your talk during the very early hours of the morning, Santi had decided to stay at your place, to help with the girls why you recovered, just until you were back on your feet. You’d protested, telling him that he really didn’t have to that, that you’d need him to do that, but he immediately shot you down. You tearily looked at him and thanked him, before Jasmine had started crying, to which Santi had no hesitation in picking her up.

“How you holding up?” Frankie asked you, still swaying Isabela. You weren’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not. “You know, after the whole…”

He goes quiet, nodding his head towards the door where Santi had walked out of. You smiled at him. “I’m doing okay. Glad he pulled his head out of his ass in time.”

Frankie grinned. “Took a bit of a verbal beating from us, after he told us he was leaving. The fucking idiot – oop, sorry.” He pulled a sheepish face as he looked down at Isabela, who had eventually fallen asleep during Frankie’s swaying.

You gave a small laugh of amusement as Benny looks up from Jasmine. “Your girls been yet?”

You shrug at him. “Just Beth. She came this morning with Georgia, they left not long before you got here. Gabs and Courtney are gonna come by later when Courtney’s finished work. Gabs has the kids again.”

Benny seemed to stop for a moment, in thought, before he finally nodded and turned back to Jasmine. You don’t ask him why he asked about your friends, you just assume he was being friendly since he was sat with Beth and Courtney in the waiting room last night.

When Beth had arrived that morning, she’d immediately fawned over your children, bursting into tears at how ‘beautiful they were’, and congratulating you and Santi. She’d even given Santi a hug, then threatened him to never leave you after the first time. He’d admitted he was an idiot, and it wouldn’t happen again. She’d accepted that answer, but still gave you a look as she picked up Jasmine for a cuddle.

After a while, as she and Georgia swapped the twins around, she’d asked about your family, and if you’d told them you’d had the babies. You paused before you eventually shake your head at her, telling her that they hadn’t bothered to respond to your messages or contact you at any point during your pregnancy, so you decided to just…let it go.

Even if it tore you up inside.

At least you weren’t crying about it anymore.

Beth had pulled a face and told them it was their loss anyway, that they’re going to be missing out on knowing the best little girls around. You agreed with her.

Santi made his way back in the room, hanging up his phone. He sighed, before running his hand through his hair. “So my sisters will be arriving next week.”

“Ay, hermano,” said Frankie, smirking. “Grow a backbone.”

Santi wordlessly gave Frankie a gentle swat on the arm, being careful of Isabela, before leaning down to you and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Sorry I was gone so long, corazón, Carmen wouldn’t get off the phone.”

You ignored how your heart leaped at the feel of his lips on you. You weren’t going to think too hard about it, it was just because of the babies, it has nothing to do with you. You’re the mother of his kids, he’s going to be affectionate with you, especially when you had just given birth. He was just being nice. Protective.

Like you said, you weren’t going to think too much about it.

“I’ll get her and Mariana to stay at my place,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay at my place, Santi, really – “

“No, stop fighting me on this, I’m helping out with the girls.” Santi gave you a stern look. “You can barely walk, I’ll stay, it’s fine.”

Frankie gives you an amused look over Santi’s shoulder, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at him. You end up looking back at Santi, before giving a shy smile. “Okay.”

He grins at your relenting. “Thank you. I’m trying to make it up to you for being a dick to you, but you’re being too nice.”

“You weren’t – “

“No, he was,” said Will before you could finish your sentence, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was a dick.”

“The biggest,” agreed Benny, looking away from Jasmine to nod at you.

“Okay, okay,” Santi called, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not in front of my girls, please.”

You watch in amusement as Santi get’s ribbed by his friends, but he gave just as good as he got.

As the banter between Santi and his friends continues, you can't help but feel a warmth in your chest, seeing the camaraderie and genuine connection they share. Despite the teasing and playful jabs, there's an underlying bond that speaks volumes about their friendship. You know that your girls were going to grow up to be the most protected kids in the world.

In that moment, you realize how far you’ve come in the past few months; to an unplanned pregnancy and finding the love of your life (even if he doesn’t know it), and growing yourself as a person (and growing two persons of your own!). As you gaze around the room, your heart swells with gratitude for the connections forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances. How you truly know who your family is, and a part of them are in this very hospital room.

The guys leave after another hour, telling you that they were happy to help you out whenever you needed, before they were herded out the door by Santi, saying you needed rest since your friends were arriving later.

You bask in the suddenly quiet room after Santi closes the door after him. You look at Isabela and Jasmine asleep in their bassinets. Santi soon came back in the room, smiling softly at you before checking over the girls. “You okay?” he eventually asked you, digging around in his bag for a moment.

“Yeah. Tired,” you replied.

“Get some sleep, I can look after them,” said Santi. “But first…”

He pulled out a familiar paper bag from his bag, and a small box. You look at him curiously. “Is that the bag that Frankie bought?”

“After Ikea? It is,” he said, perching himself next to you on the bed. He passed you the bag. “I had these commissioned by Sarah when I found out we were having girls, which was why you couldn’t look at them. Then when we finally decided on names, I had her change them a little.”

You open the bag, pausing before tears fill your eyes. You give him a watery smile before you pull out the two matching, pale pink, and lavender patchwork blankets, decorated with embroidered white and yellow flowers. You run your fingers over the stitching, feeling how soft the blankets were. You look over them before your gaze lands on the bottom corner, where you trace your fingers over their names that had been embroidered in the corners. “Santi, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to use them!”

“Stop, they’re supposed to be used,” he said. “Even if they puke all over them, or other bodily fluids.”

You laugh at that.

“And these,” he said, handing you the box. “Are for you.”

You take the box, which fit in the palm of your hand. You recognised it immediately, and you opened them to see the two charms, in the letters I and J, with a red gemstone in each of them.

“Garnets,” he said.

“January birth stone,” you said, smiling at him as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You laugh at yourself. “I am far too emotional for you to be giving me things like this.”

“Stop, I planned to give these to you, I want to give these things to you,” he said. “I need you to understand that I made a bad judgement and a stupid mistake, and I’ll be trying to make things right for the rest of my life, for you and our girls. You’re important to me.”

You swallow against your tears, but you sob anyway, giving a watery smile. “You’re important to me too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, bringing you into his arms gently.

And you believed him.

“Careful, careful!”

“I am being careful, Santi,” you say, making your way towards your house from his car (his car!).

“I’m going to have to level these flags out, they’re a trip hazard – “

“You will do no such thing, Santiago, not with your knees,” you say to him, raising your eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge you.

He mutters something in Spanish as he carries the car seats containing your girls, who had fallen asleep from the movements of the car, to your front door, where he unlocked it and stepped in.

You had finally been discharged from the hospital, and you were able to go home. It had been a trying afternoon, with lots of tears as you tried to manoeuvre yourself with a C-section wound, and two very needy babies who just wanted to be on you all the time. You had to take a time out getting to the wheelchair, where Santi did his best to calm the girls, and to calm you.

Eventually, you made it out of the hospital and into Santi’s car, where he’d wrestled a little bit with the car seats before finally having the girls secure safely in the back of the car. Once you were settled in, Santi proceeded to drive well under the speed limit on the way back to your house. He glared at anyone who even gave him a funny look for driving so slowly, which made you giggle and make the quip that he could drive a bit quicker.

“No,” he’s said firmly. “You’re delicate, and they’re delicate. I am not driving any faster.”

You followed Santi into your house, where he was taking the girls out of their car seats. Gabrielle had been over to your house that morning, on your request, to arrange your house a little for your arrival. She’d bought some playmats down from the girls’ bedroom, and set up their bassinets in the living room so you didn’t have to tackle the stairs as soon as you got home.

Santi settled your babies in the bassinets before sighing, seemingly glad that everyone was safe and sound. “I’ll go and get our bags from the car, and we can have some dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Sushi,” you reply with no hesitation.

Santi gives an amused snort before nodding. “Sushi it is.”

“And I might have a teeny tiny glass of wine,” you say, grinning. “Just a small one.” You put your thumb and forefinger together, with just a tiny gap between them.

Santi laughs. “You deserve it.”

He disappeared outside, getting the bags from the car. You gently lower yourself down on your couch, sighing in relief as you get off your feet. Dr Montgomery had prescribed you some painkillers for you C-section for as and when you needed, and you know it’s going to be a tough recovery but with Santi’s help, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

He comes back in the house, laden with bags, before he sets them down by your front door, and closes it. He takes a look around your living room properly, saying, “You’ve made this place pretty nice.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands last week,” you say. “I needed something to do.”

Santi nodded, before his eyes drift over to Jasmine, who started fussing in her bassinet. As you went to stand, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you back down, before pulling his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Here, have a look at what you want to eat, I’ll settle her.”

You take his phone and thank him as he made his way over to Jasmine, cooing at her, asking her what’s wrong as he lifted her from her bassinet. He set about to change her diaper. You scroll through the food app for a moment before your eyes drifted over to him, admiring him without his knowledge.

You felt happy. Content. This wasn’t what you imagined your life would turn out like, and sure, you and Santi did things a little unconventionally, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Everything worked out in the end, even if Santi did have a wobble about becoming a dad, even if your feelings for him will go unsaid and kept to yourself. You were okay with that, as long as he was there for your girls.

You sigh as you smile at the scene before you, of Santi telling Jasmine about his early days in the army, how he met Uncle Frank, and how loved they already were. Even though you did everything backwards with Santi and your girls, you look forward to the next chapter of your life and couldn’t wait to see what it brought.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[busycucumbermelon]

 Lilith affair children

This was just a cute little idea I had but if you like it, let me know and I’ll try doing more like it 

Lucifer stared at his wife, distastefully. Charlie was being consoled by Vaggie, while Alastor stood off to the side. His smile seemed truly forced as Angel Dust and Husk appeared to not know what to do with themselves.

"So where'd you put the affair children? They're clearly not in hell, and heaven wouldn't accept them." Lilith remained silent, staring at the man with true disdain.

"That looks like one of those human apartments on Earth." Lucifer comments as he stares at the globe in her hand. Though he is still annoyed and his thoughts are directed elsewhere, the image of the apartment, with its modern design and mostly blues, whites and purples, does stir something inside him. It's dark and soothing,

The apartment had various floral scents to it, with curtains covering the large bay window. There were flowers on a coffee table along with a drinking cup and an iPad and notebook. A candle flickered on one side of the table, producing a small crackling sound, while a lamp across the room clashed with the TV and produced a blue and white glow on the couch. A sleeping woman was on the couch.

Before panning over to a set of feet, the film took its time to build suspense. It slowly panned up the person's body, shining off the lamp and fixing the pillows of the woman on the couch. "You know, if you continue to sleep on the couch like this, you're going to eventually get a crook in your neck," the male warned. The woman didn't move a muscle, not even a twitch of her lips. They both resembled Lilith, but with different skin tone, they were most definitely not Lucifer

The globe has thus far withheld the man's face, but as he leaned down to blow out the candle, its flame illuminated his features. His chocolate brown eyes shined with a red glow, his hair kept and he had to use one hand to keep hair out of his face. The crackling sound of the candle came to halt as soft smoke filled the air dancing around in front of the man’s face. Now the only thing illuminating the room was the TV.

Turning his attention back to the couch, a happy smile took shape on his lips. He walked over and nudged her shoulder.

"Scooch, will you? If you're going to complain all night, I might as well endure the torture with you".

With that, the woman only opened one of her eyes, a small smile twitching onto her lips. She moved back to make room, causing him to roll his eyes at her antics.

The two made themselves comfortable on the couch, with the woman laying her head on his chest. He then placed his head on top of hers. He spoke in a much softer voice, as if it was only meant for the two of them to hear.

"Good night sissy," he said in a whispered tone, as Lilith's magic picked up his voice. The woman rolled her eyes, playfully hitting his chest.

"You're such a jerk, I should buy a new brother," she commented with a small laugh and playful roll of the eyes.

The male leaned away with a faked offended, look, before scooting back in. "But really good night," he said after a while as the woman's voice broke the silence.

"What would you do if we just died in our sleep?" she asked, sounding quite sinister even for sinners, watching. Sure enough, the video had caught Charlie's attention a while ago. That made her heart sink, knowing that this scene was about to become painful for the two siblings when they died, there would be no sense of peace. No, it would be complete chaos

"At least I would have you," the male voice was soft and caring as he cradled his little sister in his arms. "You're an amazing person," he continued, "And i can't wait to see who we become in our next life, and if we die in our sleep, this is a good last memory." The woman looked up at her big brother, happy that they were twins. She would not trade their reincarnations for anything, even an afterlife.

"You're so cheesy," she quipped with a grin, leaning her head back on him.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 10 - Flora

Flora and the Great Waterton Flower Show

Flora the tram engine works on a small logging tramway on the eastern side of the island of Sodor. It begins at Vicarstown before heading inland to Great Waterton, the site of a major waterworks. The line mostly transports the water from the waterworks or logs from the numerous small timber plantations that surround the little town. During harvest season, Flora would even take the produce from the farms. Her little line travelled along a road, so Flora needed cowcatchers and sideplates by law – but the road was unpaved, and so very few people liked to drive along it.

The only engines Flora really met were the few who spent time at Vicarstown. She’d made good friends with Bear the diesel and the Scottish Twins, but she avoided the big engines. They were just too pompous for the little sunshine-yellow tram.

One morning, Bear rumbled into the yard to see Flora looking even sunnier than usual! “What’s got you so excited?” asked Bear. “The Great Waterton Flower Show is on tomorrow,” beamed Flora. “And I’ve just been given a new coat of paint for the celebration!” Bear had never been to a flower show before, and thought they sounded rather silly when flowers grew everywhere already, but he decided to support his friend.

“Are you going to see it?” he asked. Flora practically whistled with glee. “They’re holding it at the station!” she exclaimed. “And I’m even going to be decorated! I’m going pull so many passengers in Moseley.” Moseley – Flora’s sleepy tram coach – stirred at the mention of his name, opening a bleary eye. He was getting cleaned for the celebration, and there was a workman polishing his stair railing.    

“See, he’s so excited!” chirped Flora. Bear wasn’t sure what was different about Moseley to hint at excitement, but was happy for his friend anyway.

Flora was so excited that she could barely sleep – but sleep she did, much to her shedmates’ thankfulness – and soon she was being steamed up for her first trip so the Great Waterton Flower Show.

Gordon met her at the platform with a train of his own. Passengers flooded from his coaches to swarm Moseley, who was quite stunned at the turn of events! “I can’t hold this many!” he spluttered. Flora chuckled and went to fetch a couple spare coaches from the carriage sidings. When she returned, she found Gordon staring at her consideringly.

“So you must be Flora,” he said. “I am surprised we have not met properly before.” “Ah, well I am busy,” Flora replied, not wanting to admit that she avoided him. “Well,” hummed Gordon, “that’s alright. Though I do think it mustn’t be that important – you’re tucked away on your little insignificant branchline, after all.” Flora glared, but just trundled away with her heavy train of passengers. She didn’t want Gordon’s dismissiveness to spoil her day.

The flower show was stunning! The various gardens were spotless, with flowers in all shades of the rainbow. Some were tropical, and had special sun lamps to keep them warm and snug while others were from the furthest winters, and were in special pots that kept the soil cool for them. Flora was in love! She spoke to every gardener who would listen, and her driver managed to get a couple to agree to redo the flower boxes at Vicarstown sheds.

Then, Flora went to pick up the special guest. She wasn’t sure who it was, but considering how nervous the mainland diesel looked when he slowed to a stop it was someone very important. Flora had even been given a special, ultra-luxurious coach for the guest, and there was a red carpet!

Then, the guest stepped out and Flora couldn’t hold in her stunned gasp. It was the Queen! “I’m about to pull Her Majesty!” hissed Flora in astonishment. “But I thought the Queen only went to the Chelsea Flower Show?” “She’s come to judge some of the gardens apparently,” her driver replied, equally as stunned. “Let’s give her a grand ride.”

Flora was extra careful as she made her way down her little tramway, wincing at every little bump she felt in the rails. As much as her little line was beautiful, it was also not meant for such important passengers. Flora hoped the Queen was enjoying the scenery more than the track!

When they arrived, there was a great reception waiting! The mayor and the local councillor and all the guests, contestants and locals were waiting for Her Majesty, and had prepared a special high tea for her. But instead of following the mayor, the Queen turned and made her way up to where Flora was standing.

“Thank you very much for a smooth ride,” the Queen said. “You are perhaps the brightest and most cheerful little tram I have ever met. Do you enjoy flowers too?” “Y-y-yes, Your Majesty,” gulped Flora. The Queen chuckled. “There’s no need to be nervous,” the Queen said kindly. “I just noticed your nameplate – were you inspired by the flowers, by any chance?” “I was,” admitted Flora. “I really like daffodils.” “I do too,” replied the Queen, and for the first time, Flora got a chance to see Her Majesty’s outfit – it was the same shade of yellow as her! The Queen waved to someone, and they walked over. It was a photographer. “Would you take a photo of us?” she asked. Flora blushed bright red! “With me!” she squeaked.

The Queen just nodded. The pair posed for the photographer, and then the Queen turned to Flora one last time.  

“I hope you also enjoy the flower show today.” And with that, the Queen headed off for her special tea. Flora felt faint. The rest of the day seemed to just flash by, and all too soon she was backing into the sheds. Both Gordon and Bear were there.

“How was your little flower show?” asked Gordon, smirking at the little tram. “Fabulous!” grinned Flora. "I heard you had a special visitor," said Bear, looking excited.  "Who?" snorted Gordon. "Aslan of Narnia?!" Flora was about to retort when her driver ran over. “Someone’s here to see you again!” he exclaimed excitedly. He nodded his head, and all three engines looked over. Gordon’s eyes widened to the size of serving platters as he spotted The Queen stepping over the rails towards the shed.

“Your Majesty?!” he spluttered. “What an honour!” “Indeed,” replied the Queen. “It is an honour for me to present Flora with a special award: the RHS President’s Award for Best Flora.” She pulled out a large medal and placed it on Flora’s lampiron. Flora was beside herself with excitement! “I also wanted to personally thank you again for such a smooth ride today – your little line is absolutely stunning, Flora, and I wish you many more successful years.” She turned. “As for you, Gordon – well, maybe next year.”

And with that, the Queen strode away, leaving behind a speechless Gordon, a cackling Bear and one very proud Flora!

Back to the Master Post

[eri-pl]

All the brothers...

I can't grasp it well yet, but I feel like Tolkien really loved writing a dynamins between two (exactly 2) brothers, especially twins, and making them a stark contrast.

Melkor and Manwe, of course. The good Vala and the bad Vala. Both into the same woman. One is the king, the other wants to be the king. Names start with the same letter, we'll see more of it later. Good / purity vs evil.

Do the lamps count? Do the trees count? Sun and moon? Generally: silver light and golden light.

(skipping Feanor, and two other Fs, because there were 3 brothers)

Another M-pair: Maedhros and Maglor. Fire and water. Not only in their final fates, but music is of water too. (and the third Silmaril ends up free in the air)

Curufin and Celegorm, Indoors and outdoors guy, but both pretty awful. (Caranthir doesn't count, he spent less time with them)

Amrod and Amras, and of course, on twin dies, the other lives (for now). Also, again one is tied to fire and fell fate.

Huor and Hurin, extended to their sons: Tuor and Turin. One did great deeds, one was doomed. Destiny at its best and its worst.

Dior's sons, surprisingly they probably both died? But at least they were twins, so maybe I should include them.

Elrond and Elros. Twins theme at its peak. Men and Elves. Immortality and death. Fading into background and short-lived, doomed glory. Also, they tie to M&M. also, Elros's heritage dies in water, which ties him even more to Maglor. And Elrond is, surprisingly, tied to the element of air, because of his Ring.

Elrond has twins again (+Arwen) but we aren't told their fates.

Isildur and Anarion?

I probably forgot some more pairs.

Well, after I wrote it down, it's not a lot, but I still feel like it's a strong theme in the Silm. Dualities. Mostly

silver / gold and Elves/Men, I would say those map on one another and maybe West / East is also similar. Silver-elves-West and gold-Men-East

also, the lines of Numenor kings and Andunie tie to the previous one partially

One lives (at least for some time) and weeps, the other dies quickly.

some subset of Fire/Air/Water

Maybe it's just me. I was always sad as a kid that I was the only one.

Thoughts?

[elysia-nsimp]

TWST Headcanons!

Hello everyone! I'm starting a new series where I infodump about my headcanons for twst characters. Feel free to request certain characters if I haven't done them already. To start off, here's Jamil Viper! Please ignore the awful quality I swear I tried to fix it

So to start off, what changed physically?

His right eye isn't grey--it's muted green with red in the center. This is the eye his signature spell primarily comes from, which is where the red came from.

he has an eyebrow cut because i have one and its COOL

He has a widow's peak! (That's the point in his hairline, if that term is unfamiliar to you)

He has long, pointed ears. I will elaborate later.

He also has several gold earrings! He has 3 hoops on his other ear.

His tongue is split at the edge. It's not super visible in this card, though.

He also has a tongue piercing, it's a teardrop-shaped Ruby. He takes very good care of it.

Lastly, he has LONG fangs. They poke out of his mouth a little bit.

Elysia, what are these changes for?

Great question! Almost all of these have an explainable reason (except the eyebrow cut and the split tongue thing I just decided he would do that just because), and I'm here to explain them!

So to start off, what is Jamil? In canon, he's a human, pretty simple, but I decided humans are BORING and Jamil deserved to be non-human like the other super cool epic characters like the twins and Malleus (personal opinion alert). In this AU, Jamil is still partially human--mostly human, even--with both his parents being human (mostly), but further up his family tree, there are traces of both gorgon and genie ancestry. How'd he get those in his family tree? Well, long long time ago, an ancestor of Kalim found a lamp that Jafar used to inhabit. As their final wish, they freed the genie. As thanks, the genie decided to stick around and continue to offer help here and there. That genie found a partner out of their lamp, and thus, began the Viper family. Somewhere along the line, one of Jamil's relatives fell in love with a gorgon. Does this mean Jamil can grant wishes? Absolutely not. However, it IS why his family has been serving the Asims for generations.

What new abilities does this grant Jamil?

Honestly, not many changes about him. He isn't even aware he's not fully human, though he has questioned why he looks different than others. Here are a couple things that have been added or changed, though.

He's more inclined to want to help you if you preface whatever you want with "I wish" (he does not even notice this, do not mention it)

He's venomous! If he bites you, it'll paralyze you for about a half an hour, maybe an hour at the worst. He doesn't use this ability much... only if he feels like he or Kalim is in danger or he just REALLY wants someone to shut up.

He reall.y likes lamps.... he has no clue why he just likes lamps

His emotions are slightly easier read, because his ears tilt up or down depending on how he feels and he has zero control over that.

He has a slight lisp that he has spent YEARS training himself out of because of the fangs. It's barely noticeable if you're not listening for it.

Some other headcanons!

These are unrelated to the species change, but still worth mentioning!

Jamil's bisexual, but he was in HEAVY DENIAL for a DAMN long time. He just prefers he/him.

oh boy here's some diagnoses for you: Major clinical depression, anxiety/paranoia (lesser impact), C-PTSD, AUTISM!!!!!!! (he just like me frfr) (also he lives in his mask so it took him a while to figure that out), POTS, assorted other CHRONIC PAIN that hasn't been diagnosed yet

He collects gold jewelry because Kalim used to always want to buy him gold things. Its kind of just become habit to collect anything that looks gold because it was one of the nicer things in his childhood.

He takes EXTREMELY good care of all his jewelry! Especially the tongue gem, since it's the most likely to get infected.

Jamil has joint issues. It's not so substantial that he can't function, but sometimes his arm will pop out of place or ache like all HELL if he overworks himself too much. This is what he uses the arm brace for and why you see him rubbing his arm often. (this is partially based in canon, partially projection because I too am in chronic pain)

mention whipped cream around him and he will go insane (/neg/hj) (based on other RPs he's been in where it's a running gag revolving around him)

He and Najma both don't have great relationships with their parents. Especially after Book 4 and some mandated therapy, Jamil grew bitter of how much his parents pulled him back and made him fear just... talking to Kalim (ofc a lot more went into his blaming of Kalim, but his parents' influence was extremely damaging).

Jamil is extremely overprotective of Najma, even if he acts like she's a major nuisance in his life.

One time he passed out in front of Najma (which made her panic), only for him to sit the fuck back up, walk to the kitchen, and down an entire thing of salt in front of poor Najma's very eyes. She was HORRIFIED, but started laughing once he confirmed he was okay. (This is related to the POTS)

Jamil knows how to pick up fingerprints and has done so on several occasions (mostly to catch Najma after she stole his food)

This is all I can think of off the top of my head. This post may be edited in the future, but for now, thanks for reading my first in-depth headcanon post!!!

[gabykatttt]

Velvet and Veneer in one day in Horrorland

Chapter 6

Jeez sure they did a good job making this park Veneer said.

Yeah but the dummy you’re holding gives me creeps just looking at it Velvet said.

Don’t worry sis it’s only a harmless dummy Veneer said hugging Slappy once more.

I still don’t understand why you bought that thing? Velvet asked.

Cuz I like puppets that’s why Veneer said smiling.

It’s still creepy Velvet said.

The siblings continued walking until Velvet bumped into someone.

Ugh watch where you going geez Velvet said rolling her eyes.

Sorry about that my sister she hates everyone bumping into her Veneer said.

Slappy eyes moved again staring at Veneer again.

It’s okay kid the woman said looking at Veneer.

Hey quit staring at my brother wiredo Velvet said grabbing Veneer by the arm and left.

The woman rolled her eyes and left.

So what should we do now? Veneer asked.

Velvet looked around and saw a hotel nearby.

Well there’s a hotel that we can stay at Velvet said.

Good idea sis Veneer said holding on to Slappy tightly.

I hate puppets Velvet said to herself looking away from Slappy.

But for Veneer he’s just a dummy Velvet thought still walking.

The twins made it to the hotel and it kinda looked like a castle.

Stagger Inn that’s a wired name don’t you think Veneer.

Yeah but let’s rent a room to sleep I’m tired Velvet said letting out a yawn.

I agree sis maybe tomorrow we’ll head back home Veneer said.

There’s no escape the twins heard a voice.

Who said that? Veneer asked.

I don’t know just kids acting like idiots Velvet said entering the hotel.

Okay Veneer said still suspicious about the voice.

What do you think Slappy? Veneer asked the dummy.

The dummy didn’t replied just stayed silent.

You’re probably right it’s just kids fooling around Veneer said smiling at the dummy.

At night the twins got into their rooms.

Goodnight Veneer Velvet said letting out a yawn and fell asleep.

Nighty night sis and goodnight Slappy Veneer said turning of the lamp and fell asleep as well.

With the twins sleeping peacefully. Slappy’s eyes started moving again looking at them mostly at Veneer.

He’s perfect he he he you’re mine slave Slappy said quietly starting at Veneer.

With Amy and Garrison

I can’t believe this I finally found him Amy said crying in tears of joy.

So what’s your plan anyway? Garrison asked.

It’s pretty simple Garry that boy has Slappy and I need him to transfer his soul into his body to be my king Amy said letting out an evil.

Why do I have a bad feeling about this? Garrison thought worrying about Amy’s crazy behavior.

Soon Veneer you’ll be mine HA HA HA HA HA and Slappy you’ll be with me again Amy said laughing even more.

[greatwrath]

Azrael's Epithets, explained.

I've talked about this a bit before, but I wanted to expand on it. It's about Azrael's name, her epithets, and the prevalent belief (among angels, demons, and humans) that Azrael is not a person but a weapon.

Prior to Azrael's exile, almost no one called Azrael by her name. This is primarily because of her rank as an Archangel, and because Azrael very much insisted on maintaining strict formalities with the angels in her service. She must keep a substantial distance between herself and everyone as a defence. So, her Lieutenants would just call her 'Archangel'.

Only the other Archangels were permitted to call Azrael by her name, though they would mostly choose to call her 'sister'.

Azrael was also and still is known as 'the Dark Star' because she is seen as Lucifer's (The Morning Star) other half, like a reflection. This may also have arisen from a rumour that Azrael is actually Lucifer's twin.

Another of her epithets is the most well-known one, it's 'the Great Wrath'. This is in reference to Azrael being the personification of the Almighty's rage and vengeance. Everyone in Heaven and Hell knows who you are talking about when you say 'the Great Wrath'.

Then, there is 'the Terror of the Nile' or 'the Terror of Men'. The Terror of the Nile came about after, you guessed it, the ten plagues of Egypt. Azrael left Egypt traumatized for centuries after the deaths of the firstborn, not only because she killed thousands upon thousands of children in a single night (including the future Pharoah) but because she brought a storm with her that wiped out crops and destroyed homes from Ta Shemaw (Upper Egypt) to the Nile Delta. Suffice it to say that the people of Egypt feared dark clouds for a long time afterwards. People also told stories about how all the oil lamps, hearths, and torches in Egypt blew out at once when Azrael came to Earth that night.

Do these epithets, used in substitution for Azrael's name, contribute to a deep sense of depersonalization for Azrael? Why, yes, they do. For the most part, they bind her to the past, a past which is filled with trauma. She won't ever escape them, and she knows that.

After her exile, she encourages people to call her Azrael because, despite her hopelessness, she longs to be a person who is capable of more than just destruction.

[tryingtimi]

33

A Home So Far, Yet So Near

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan. It was a song you showed me, and I immediately started writing a Metalsea bit for it. And now I ended up finishing it, after many many months, lol. So thank you, love! I don't think it needs so much context, it's just a little siblings dynamic exploration between Syon and Avelyn.

TINY CONTEXT: Avelyn and Syon weren't so close when they were little, and their paths separate. After a long-long time, they meet again, and have some bonding time.

BOOK II EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | MOSTLY FLUFF | SISTER DYNAMIC | WC: 1787

Yaran’s Mid-Summer Festival held such a strange version in its glowing belly.

Avelyn smiled at Cronyl, suppressing a sigh.

The grandiose bonfire crackled in the centre of the desert, people dancing and singing around. They ate, drank, and celebrated in a way that could nearly convince Avelyn that life wasn’t fully known back in her home. Bra’aka could lure even Cronyl to the dancefloor, teasing relentlessly about his make-believe inability. They did not last too long, yet the ghostly touch of a smile still rested on his lip when he walked back to her. Since then, they sat on the two sides of this rough stone table, watching the lot, hands touching on the top just enough to feel the other’s presence.

Avelyn should have wanted to dance with Cronyl. Every couple did that. She, however, was overwhelmed by another feeling. She loved to be around Cronyl, she wanted to be around him. But tonight, for the longest time perhaps, her mind was not focused on him. Tonight, she looked at the colorful, gemlike fire lamps and saw herself as a kid, reaching for them to grab it; just like a little one did the same thing not far from them. Tonight, she noticed the rigid little stumbles she and Syon made, when they practised the required siblings dance — exactly like two little ones on the edge of the dancefloor. Tonight, the sweet-scented desserts on the tables have made her see herself nervously pulling on Father’s clothes to get his attention and let Syon convince him to buy them some. Just like the Shar-Dlin twins did, doe-eyes watching the desserts intently on the food table.

Tonight, Avelyn realized this Mid-Summer Festival wasn’t so much different after all. If only this epiphany could have filled the hollow that a home being out of reach has left.

“Shall we?” The voice of crackling fire asked, earning her attention.

Avelyn looked up to find her sister standing before her, one delicate hand extended forward. Her features bore the same calm confidence she used to see in her in their entire life. Yet, she could also see her shoulders slump in a way that others might have missed. But not Avelyn.

Not her.

Avelyn accepted the hand. It was a strange feeling really, her hand in Syon’s. Something she rarely experienced, even in their childhood.

She rose from her seat and was about to turn to Cronyl so she could inform him — or ask for reassurance of her decision. However, he was already walking past Syon’s back. One, metal-focused eye glanced at Avelyn and a slight nod made her feel gratefulness bloom in her chest. If someone, Cronyl knew way too well when to be on his way.

With that, Avelyn stayed alone with her sister. Syon held her hand carefully, but firmly, leading her onto the dance floor. Only then, did Avelyn notice how the gathering settled and slowed down. The fire still flickered and blazed at the centre, but there were very few people standing. The music died out, so the only melody came from the djanvaar’s gentle humming. Fluttering, playing starbugs conquered the dance floor, tiny explosions of their small stars lighting up even more. She wondered if the old tales had been right; that wild starbugs only did that if they were happy.

Syon stopped them in the middle, equally far from everyone and everything. She then turned to Avelyn and slid her hand over her waist. Such a strange feeling still. Avelyn did the same, noticing her movements being more rigid than relaxed. It wasn’t something she was used to. Yet she wanted to stay.

So she lifted her gaze to look into her sister’s eyes.

Bad idea.

They were staring at her as well, both of that unusual tinge she only saw on warriors. Syon never failed to seem intimidating or let her gaze be just a little less intense. That was one of the reasons why Avelyn never really locked eyes with her.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean to speak, but she couldn’t stop herself either. “This festival. So strange. I mean, what they did with all these plants as decoration and the djaanvar as some kind of musicbox. It’s eccentric the least. Can you imagine what Mother would think?”

Children laughed in the background, their voices turning small but just as full of joy as before. Syon scoffed, yet a genuine half-curve painted her face softer instead of the humourless smile she always gifted people with.

“She’d be out of her mind. But she’d enjoy the dance, if Father would ask her for a round, that is,” she chuckled, and Avelyn needed to swallow back a surprised gaping. A similar giggle left her throat, as unintentional as unstoppable.

Their bare feet tapped the warm ground close beside each other, Syon’s presence ruling their dance. She guided Avelyn’s movements just like she did when they were small. Those lessons were one of the most challenging in their childhood. She remembered clearly because they were a spectacle back then, the peculiar siblings who were not easy to forget.

She felt a gentle push on her back, looking back into Syon’s eyes.

“Do you remember our dance lessons?”

Avelyn opened her mouth, then looked at her feet that almost stepped on Syon’s accidentally. Her feet avoided Avelyn’s as proficiently as always, smoothing out their performance the best she could. Yet, no force was in her anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Avelyn started, trying to lean back. Syon let her. “Clearly, I do.”

Another chuckle joined the humming of the djaanvar.

“You’re doing great, Lyn. Dance Master Liona would be proud. She’d even forgive all the headache we gave her.” They turned, the flames coming to Avelyn’s sight, outlining Syon’s form like blazing fireflies in the night. “She might never forget us.”

“Not much sibling pair made her nearly quit. We could thank Father’s soft-spoken charm that she stayed — that’s what Mother told me.”

The memory came alive in the fire’s flickers, Avelyn’s eyes following their little forms sway to one side and the other. Rigid hands touched, a gaping distance laying between their child flame-figure. Too much distance. “Closer!” and “Act like you’re siblings” faintly echoed in her ears.

She held Syon’s sparkling crimson eyes and found herself smiling with her.

Her body remembered the tension of those touches. Of being so close to the girl who shared the same blood with. Of fear, terrible fear from dancing with a sibling that was no more than a stranger.

“I’m so sorry, Lyn,” Syon whispered, yet it could be heard loud and clear. Confident. Genuine. Avelyn kept the scratching feeling in her throat at bay, forcing herself to keep looking at her sister. To keep listening to her. “I know I’ve been always farther away than I should have been. There is no excuse for that, though I had many. You tried to come close, yet I did not let you. I believed you chose the Temple only to pull yourself out of the noble betrothal misery. At some point, I believed you did it just to let every responsibility of our house fall on me, and me only.”

A feather touch weighed on Avelyn’s back, asking — begging to come a little closer.

She did so.

“I’m aware that was foolish,” Syon continued, voice softer than Mother’s night song. Softer than Avelyn had ever heard. “You might have had a shard of that reason, but I know you merely wanted to get away. From Mother, from Father… from me. You need connections, I realise that now. People to be close with, to be open with. You care so much, it’s frightening. Especially for someone like me. I felt threatened by you, I confess. I envied your ability to read people the way you did; with ease and compassion. And that made me bitter, because compassion I lack, even still…”

“No.” Avelyn’s voice was but a whisper, but nothing had sounded clearer. Syon smiled, her eyes misting the most subtle way. “You do not, sister. I was just as selfish, only more of a coward. You faced your duties and expectations with valiant grace. You had every right to…”

“Lyn.”

A delicate finger, tangled with Avelyn’s, swiped a single teardrop away from her cheek. So kind. So close. So tender. Hearing the kind little nickname Father gave her constantly rolling off of Syon’s lips made her own quiver. All the memories of the lonely girl practising dances in her room alone faded, longing for affection withering away. A glance, a joke, a smile. Everything her soul starved for from a sister out of reach. It twirled in the fire, slowly blending into smoke, and joining the cooling air around them.

Syon embraced her, when Avelyn dared leaning over her shoulder, cheek pressed in the crook of her neck.

“Let me have my regrets, and I let you have yours. Both of us learned and changed, all right? And oh how you did so. I regret how I pushed you away, how I abandoned you, but I am exceptionally proud of who you became, little sister. It was and still is all you. I can only hope you are to forgive me, so I can keep watching your path of becoming an incredible woman even further.”

Words crackled in her throat along with the fire’s flames, hands holding each other so close, that Avelyn found it hard to believe. A soft, silent hiccup left her lips when she felt a distant wetness on her shoulder.

“Not only me. I wanted to become like you, sister. Your memory gave me strength when I used up mine. Even if you couldn’t give me affection, you gave me strength. You gave me will and a role model. I regret not being able to stand beside you when we were little, but I am grateful for a bastion in need,” she breathed, losing herself in the swaying.

A throaty giggle made Syon’s chest resonate, making Avelyn smile along under her closed, drenched lashes. A bastion in need; Father’s attempt to be romantic with Mother. Their only humour source from their childhood.

Huddled beside the fire, Avelyn could still feel the chill that slowly settled onto the horizon, but she was not cold in the embrace of her sister. They stayed tangled, close as never before, until the fire began to flicker. Syon hummed with the djaanvar, yet not the same melody, but an old song they used to sleep to. Avelyn couldn’t help, but join, feeling a weight so profound crumble. She might have been a great distance away from home, yet she did not feel the absence anymore.

Not beside Syon, her sister.

[victoriansimmer]

The Grundstroms

Rainclouds swept overhead of the Grundstrom Cottage.

Eldest daughter Cora awoke to the sound of her brother, Phillip, crying. Their cottage was comfortable yet modest, so the kids all shared their bedchambers.

Truly, she couldn't wait for her youngest sibling to age up. She found herself quite tired of the early morning wakeups.

Her mother, Caroline, was a third generation Holloway. She knew that Caroline's wealthy upbringing was the reason all of their household funds went to fancy furniture and elaborate décor, despite the size of their cottage.

Yes, Caroline's interior design prowess held a candle to many of the larger estates in New Whitby. Their drawing room was immaculate and always well-lit with wax candles.

Caroline rose every morning eager to start her family's day with fresh milk, eggs, and salted meats.

Cora's twin sisters, Marjorie and Ernestine, were always the last to rise.

It was important to their mother, however, that the entire family sat down to breakfast together. It was Cora's favorite part of the day, as her family got along well.

Before sending her daughters off to school, the family would gather in the drawing room to listen to Caroline play the harp. Occasionally, Cora would join in on the pianoforte.

Caroline never quite knew where they would get the money to pay for all their girls' dowries, but she had always hoped to send them off with the means for at least a middle-class match. With her husband in the criminal career, and only 5,000 simoleons in their pocket, it seemed increasingly unlikely.

Until one day, everything changed.

Elliot saw the lamp on their front lawn, and immediately went to examine it.

His first wish was spent on curing the town's raging epidemic of typhoid. He saved 20 sims from its icy grasp. The next two wishes, however, he spent on wealth.

Elliot and Caroline spent the day resting easy, knowing that all three of their daughters would enter the marriage market with at least a 20,000 simoleon dowry. This was well enough to put them firmly at a lower-middle class match. If they could raise 5,000 simoleons more for each of them, they could potentially swing upper-middle class matches.

Caroline helped her daughters out wherever she could. Some days, that meant she did their homework for them while they were busy in the drawing room skilling.

Elliot spent most of his free time these days practicing his tai chi so that he could get a promotion.

Thanks mostly to Caroline's hard work, Cora and her sisters excelled at school.

And before long, it was time for their heir, Phillip, to age up into a child. It was unlikely that they could afford tuition for Cambridge given the financial energy put into his sisters' dowries--but Caroline made sure that her husband knew he was to attempt any lengths possible at work to acquire the money.

[searchingforserendipity25]

For @arofili from your @officialtolkiensecretsanta Secret Santa - some Russingon being cozy and delighting in each other. Hope you enjoy it, happy holidays! <3

Also on AO3.

Beta by the wonderful @mayfriend.

Content warning: Explicit content, mentions of past trauma.

"Liberty at last," said Maedhros grimly, leaning against the bedpost and holding a pillow for defence.

Fingon, with empty arms still stretched across the pillow to grasp him, snorted his laughter against the sheets.

The Fire of Life

In the Ice, they had learned to sleep in short shifts, with one always watching for danger and to wake those in danger of becoming too cold in stillness. It had stayed with Fingon, that rhythm, sank into his bones like the cold that returned, in times of fear or grief or, indeed, when he stood too still and idle for a time.

The only exception was when he laid down with Maedhros. With Maedhros, he never needed to fear the cold, nor did he hunger for it. This was quite excellent, considering how dearly they loved each other, but his husband was no more restful in body or spirit than him.

Maedhros had a habit of accusing Fingon of having an embrace like iron, and a fondness for such a number of blankets and furs as to be unnatural.

In his defence, Fingon could not be held responsible for whatever measures might be taken to keep Russandol from tampering with the closed shutters - not when he was naked, in bed, during wintertime, in the high and narrow chambers set aside for him atop the tower of Himring the Ever-Cold.

"Liberty at last," said Maedhros grimly, leaning against the bedpost and holding a pillow for defence.

Fingon, with empty arms still stretched across the pillow to grasp him, snorted his laughter against the sheets.

The canopy was drawn back only enough for the air to sound of the burning timber and the smell of smoke on warm stone. The ever-bright lamp by the bed cast gentling shadows on the hard lines of the bed, and the master of the fortress, and Maedhros leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed.

Fingon’s eyes lingered on the movement of his shoulders, the pooling of half-light over the inkings around the twin scars over his chest, flush high on his cheeks - the corner of his mouth, where it creased with a scar.

He shifted, and to mask it rose enough to rest his chin over his folded arms, and looked up at his beloved with as much matching seriousness as he could harness.

“Is my embrace so very unwelcome?”

The crease deepened. Maedhros' heart, never far from Fingon's since their marriage, and well before then, warmed and flickered, as Fingon had known he would. “Yours? Always welcome, dearest; but you seem comfortable enough with your bedmates already.”

Fingon’s knees ached - his toes, his nose, the still-damp ends of his ribbons weighing down his head and neck. The numbness was past, and the rush of blood that prickled the skin in coming back to life; he was warm and sleep-heavy now, drunk on warmth and unhurried passion, and it made him magnanimous enough for Fingon to nudge away the pillows, the furs, the wealth of blankets. In part because the room was quite warm enough, but mostly to watch Maedhros’ nose wrinkle as he sat himself down besides them.

Always he brought out the coverings and the tapestries whenever Fingon visited, the ones that smelled strongly of the cedarwood chests, but he had no patience for the excess of stifling textures himself, and would do with the plainest wickerr rugs and sweet-smelling rushes if left to his own devices, as if Himring was not so chill anyone half-sensible went around bundled in layers of furs and fleece and wool.

“No need of that; my beloved shall keep me warm, always.”

Maedhros looked so stolid and fey, as if set to suffer the great trial of being held in bed as a true concession to Fingon’s rank. It was all nonsense, of course; but for the modest dip of his head.

“My prince is most wise and cunning.”

“Yes, of course,” Fingon said. “Alas, for my long plot for revenge for the Ice! I wed you not for love, nor to unite our people in peace, but for your merits, which are only really very useful when turned against the Enemy, or occupying my blankets as a bedwarmer at the end of a dreadful journey.”

Maedhros lifted his brows in the most officious manner, as if to say Yes, of course, most naturally, and Fingon could not help it - he laughed.

To the space between their thoughts, a thought like the premonition of a shiver, passed nearer than a whisper, he told him, So what if I did? I intend to have joy enough from my reward, and skimmed his fingertips over Maedhros' cheeks until his mouth eased out of whatever emotion masked as the teasing pretence of disbelief. Only lightly, and only because he knew it would not pain him, and because he knew he would thaw at his touch as he often did.

How hungry he was for Fingon! And how unashamed of it. Fingon knew it; he was no less glad to see Maedhros always, and all the better like this, wry and easy in his skin, the feverish glint of his countenance the more bearable for being wasted in love.

And Fingon was no less fierce himself for him! For him, for the homecoming, the rare curve of Maedhros’ lips. The cup of tenderness, alive and rich between them - a task no less strange and dire and valuable than any feat of bravery he ever accomplished.

Aloud, half-severe, he said, “If that be my purpose, I wonder at your temerity in bringing such a matter to my attention! My business lies upon needs of state; I come to Himring in the persuit of diplomacy.”

The fey brightness was on him, that in certain lights and Fingon's company was a fierce thing near to joy, and little torment. It would have been horrible cheek, in someone ten times less formidable and even half as old. “Am I a not a matter of state, dear cousin? Does not my good prince concern himself with justice and friendship in all his dealings?”

“You certainly are in a state,” Fingon said dryly.

He knew well why Russandol went around his fortress of ice and stone bare-sleeved and bare-headed, his long spill of hair held up with wood sticks when an unprotected neck would be madness for anyone walking the walls of the city or the wilderness outside.

There were times, hours, entire days when Maedhros was over-warm with himself, stifling, the matter of his soul tempered into constant working flame constrained by the matter of his skin, and the flesh itself too tight. For this reason also orcs marched without furs or care for the inclement weather; for the fire of Angband was upon them still, a maddening head that blunted the body to all other feelings, and made a mockery of relief.

Not now. Not with Fingon.

Fingon had been waiting for this homecoming all the long while - all through the weary ride through the snowstorms, through the wasting of the dark hours clustered around the fire, and the fire forever dwindling and in need of Song to call it again to life. In those nights time passed slowly and strangely, a thing as voluminous and changeable as the howling of the wind, swelling the deerskin of the tents and shelters.

Fingon could withstand the cold; he knew it well, too well. He had not even been surprised, the first time he had gone riding with his father’s hunters to the groves of Lindon where their kin was welcoming and even the green leaves sang, rustling with the voice of the wind, and found himself seeking out the high, cold steppes instead, those places where the deer did not tread, that even the proud elk herds found too barren.

He knew, even, that he was not alone in it. Often when he visited Himring, many among his household volunteered to accompany him, as court or guards, for those that had crossed the Ice had a hard longing in them. Not for the Ice itself, or the dark horror of journey, but the testing of the self, the hröa's claim to itself and the fëa's strength in life.

And at the end, Maedhros: his hair in the snow like the wings of a cardinal, let loose and curling for Fingon, only for Fingon, his joy rising taller than the fortress towers, calling out across the waste the heights and the long, strong thread between them: best beloved! His limbs spread out on the pillows, his arms the very heart of the world, where all holy quiet resided.

Truly, Fingon had no complaints on the welcome of Himring; only that the lord of Himring was a restless sort of bedfellow, even when Fingon would rather rest from his journey and make the most of the satisfying prize it had won him, for a little time at least before making love again.

“Let the dues fit the duty,” Maedhros said piously; he had to bite his cheek not to betray himself. Fingon knew it, for he felt the taste of it in his own mouth, their spirits near enough that Maedhros shuddered with Fingon’s own shiver. “Himring seeks always the pleasure of the lord of Mithrim. How would my prince have his hospitality?"

Warm yourself if you dare, you coward, Maedhros thought, mouth curling into an open smile at last.

Fingon leaned back on the pillows and smiled slowly to himself. “I think I shall be able to think of something.”

He moved fast. Too fast, for anyone less attuned to the movement of his muscles; Maedhros ducked his grasp, rolled, clasped his wrist and sought to press it away.

Russo's breath hitched, warm and shocking against Fingon's jaw, and squirmed his wrist to freedom by tangling their legs and rolling them over again. They fell off the bed in a storm of linen, brocade, silk and laughter.

He did miss this! Feeling his fingers and calves and nose sting to life, the wondrous rush of blood that he could almost see when he lowered his lashes, a red warmth, the spirit joined no less closely than the flesh. He could feel Russo's heart singing, the force and speed of it, feel the ease of his muscles, the languid cunning of his thoughts.

Fingon tugged him closer, close enough to bite the flesh of his neck, and smother the sound that shuddered out of Maedhros with his mouth. They moved against each other with the aching urgencythat rose and swept them through, when only touch would suffice to ease the biting hunger of long hunger. He pressed inside Russo easily, for he was open and slick still. Russo, panting against his neck with abandon, clenched around him with delicious heat, drew him closer and held him tightly.

He did like to be bourne down and held, Russo; he liked the bed sport, and Fingon's hands like iron on him, the safest of bonds. He liked to please him. And Fingon liked being Maedhros’ lord-prince very well, in truth.

(He had wanted to be Maedhros’ prince, his champion and companion, since first his elder cousin gave him a ribbon from his braids to wear as his favour in the first competition Fingon presented himself as a grown Noldo, the first time he defended himself with a claim to recognition in his own right - a prince restless in the making of himself.

All the eyes in Tirion had been on him, Nolofinwë’s the heaviest, but Maitimo had given him his favour and his faith under the eyes of the world and the discouragement of his own lord-father, because he had known - he had known the courage Fingon had been marshalling, and how small it had seemed to him in the eyes of the world, enough to be brave in return.

Fingon had sworn in his heart to do him honour for the gift of that faith: he had worn the memory of it like sunlight in his hair ever since, and wept with joy when Russandol first unbraided it with trembling hands on their wedding night.)

How I burn for you, Russo said, or thought, their minds reaching out to each other with their bodies and minds so close it made no difference. Oh, Fingon, how I miss you, how I burn for you always. For an instant, he saw his arrival as his beloved had wished, and longed, and waited for: the glinting of the armoured guard and the rider charging recklessly ahead, and Russo's heart, which was entirely Fingon's own, leaping in his throat, his skin prickling alive and maddening even with the biting wind against him.

“There,” he whispered, and kissed his brow, brushing his hair and swallowing against the knot of emotion nestled against his throat. He pressed close, and then again.“I have you now, dearest.”

Maedhros laughed. It was a sound that made the steel in the grate sing, and the fire leap, and scurried the cool night out of the window, and banished the last of the cold fear, even as he moved against him. “Finno, you fool! One day more, and I would have ridden myself - could you not have waited till spring if you meant to make the journey -”

“No,” Fingon said, very honestly, because it was true and because he was mad, wild, dizzy with the way Meadhros moved when he laughed - he would have died for it, and happily. “Ai, Russo. My shining flame, my burning star, my sweet love. You keep me warm all my nights, even in your absence.”

The fire wasted itself through in the hearth, unattended, unnecessary. And afterwards, spent and comfortable, his husband sighing sweetly into his mouth, he curled up in Russo's arms and they dreamed the same dream till dawn.

[thenopequeen]

I like your designs, can you tell us more about your ocs?

Given my lack of sleep, this may not be particularly coherent. Bear with me

Isnene the Swift is my Nerevarine, who was originally named by cleaning up a keysmash and became a character in her own right when I poured on the lore and forgot to say when. I knew very little about Morrowind when I first played her, so I just kept seeing cool new things and adding them

Isnene is the granddaughter of Barenziah's child that (in my universe) Talos failed to kill, meaning she is also a dragonborn, and that the Blades have a standing order to eliminate her and any of her family they find. This makes the beginning of the game incredibly nerve-wracking for her. She is also descended from House Dagoth, maybe even Voryn himself, on the other side of the family. Girly got ISSUES.

She grew up as a street thief on the Anvil dockside, and was arrested for Thieves Guild crimes before being deported to Morrowind at the start of the game. She fights with a spear and mostly restoration and alteration spells, as well as a bunch of potions and enchanted gear. She joined House Hlaalu out of a "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" mentality, and also joined the Thieves Guild and Mages Guild. (I'm definitely not still salty that the Twin Lamps didn't get a whole faction and questline. Not at all)

She is actually Nerevar reborn, and when she is sent to Kogrohun to prove herself, she follows the path that she doesn't know how she knows, all the way up to Dagoth Ur. As soon as she steps into the Heart Antichamber, all his memories come back. Which. Is. Traumatic. So she runs away to Solstheim to process everything. And then has to deal with werewolves n shit. And then before she finishes getting named Hortator and Nerevarine by everybody, she goes to Mournhold to figure out the whole assassin thing. And it's only a week or two really before she is face to face with HIS WIFE. More. Emotional. Damage. So she is so very sad and haunted by the time she goes up mountain, but also happy because it's almost over. And when she collapses beside the Heart, she doesn't even try to ward off the figure looming over her as her vision goes black. And then she wakes up at her marked location, with her hand closed around her recall amulet, with cuts across the backs of her fingers like too long clawed hands. Like forgiveness.

Sorry if I got too rambley, it's a quarter to eight in the morning and I haven't more than dozed a bit all night

Here's a character sheet I filled out using this post

Sick-ass art by @azures-grace

And another one from this

[rothjuje]

I’m finally feeling back to my normal self and it’s so. nice. Around Thanksgiving my mental health took a nosedive. It started with a small existential crisis and then a bunch of small things snowballed (kids being sick since mid October, Justin traveling a lot, no Thanksgiving plans, my friend keeping me sane went back to work, Alyssa struggling behaviorally and academically, George struggling with public outings, anxiety flare up, and a bad period). Whew.

Anyway. Existential crisis is still alive and well, but it’s mostly situational. Our goal, for our entire 10 years together, has been to move to a desirable location. We have been working on relocating somewhere where we both can be happy and put down roots. And now we’re here, and I am deeply grateful for that, but also I am left without A Goal and it’s made me panicky.

I have so many small goals, but my story arc is gone. I think it’s the ADHD in me that is attracted to bright and shiny goals. It is challenging to emotionally invest myself into just regular life stuff. Adderall has helped me get regular life stuff done, but when they wear off the consuming panic of why does consciousness exist/why am I here/what should I be doing? sets in.

I’m hoping eating more vegetables and daily exercise and my sun therapy lamp will quiet it.

Anyway. Our 6 month (!!!) anniversary of moving to MA was Dec 19. I cannot believe we’ve been here for 6 months. Well, I can, it feels like a lifetime. Jan 15 will be 6 months at home in Georgetown.

We walked the property for the first time recently (yeah I don’t know why it took 5 months, but also couldn’t take twins to the top of the mountain with no trail so needed a babysitter) and discovered property that we thought was ours is not and property we thought wasn’t ours is. Which is very surprising after living here for almost half a year haha.

Apparently from the edge of our front lawn and all the way back to the top of the hill is two thirds of our 1.84 acres. We thought the hill went further up and that most of our land was unusable. But to the right there is a whole other part that we couldn’t even see before the leaves fell, and then we just assumed it was the neighbor’s. But it’s ours and it’s one third of our total land, which is a lot. And there are several flat spots! Lots of trees though. But definitely room for a fire pit and kids’ play area.

I’ve worked a lot with Alyssa recently, academically and behaviorally (she’s waitlisted for behavioral therapy) and she’s in a much better place and is able to complete assignments with minimal direction. She has a bit of a wild side, but I think it’s more ADHD related than from behavioral issues. We have a lot of similarities (very creative and perpetually bored) but my anxiety always kept my behavior in check. Alyssa is the opposite of a people pleaser, and I love her free spirit, but it makes cooperating in the classroom more of a challenge for her.

George is also in a better place with public outings. He got dragged on so many holiday errands and was a champ. I think if we don’t do errands for a while he’ll panic in public but if it’s regularly he knows what to expect and will actually scream less than Gen. But that’s no surprise, she’s still the feistiest three year old I know.

I need to go back to work. Or at least have the goal of going back to work to keep me sane. I’m going to pursue real estate for a year and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Classes here are only 40 hours and courses are currently on sale. I just need to jump.

What else? We’re getting an inexpensive treadmill as soon as we decide on if we’re doing the basement floors or not. I am going to run to the loudest music possible at 8 pm every night. I am going to DIY stairs to make the newfound property more easily accessible. Goats and bees are a go, but I’m not sure when. Chickens I’m still undecided for this year just because the amount of work (making and managing an incubator) and money (nice coops are pricey and wood is crazy expensive right now). So I do have some goals to keep me from going completely insane.

[kachikirby]

I can’t think of a specific question but would you mind sharing a few pieces of trivia about Kurakuto and Metaccine? :D

Okie then!

Kurakuto

Kurabe literally moved MIkuto's entire house into the GranEssex after they decided to live together. He asked how she would do it and her only response was "i'll handle it".

After becoming the general, if Kurabe isn't feeling well or needs a break, Mikuto will often take over for her. He's surprisingly good at being the general, even though it tires him out quickly. He's fine with doing it since he's helping his wife.

Their wedding was surprisingly small. Just a few close friends with Z as the one being the pastor. (Kurabe's best friend, Mercury, was her maid of honor)

Mikuto loves all kinds of music. He's also one of the very few people who has heard Kurabe sing. (Her singing is really good, but she's shy about it)

Kurabe once almost lost Mikuto at a lava lamp store. He was too entranced by the lava lamps there.

Kurabe does end up listening to a lot of the music Mikuto does mostly because of how much he plays it. She doesn't mind since he at least plays a decent variety of bands.

Metaccine

Fetty is the chef of the household. However, she has also been teaching Meta how to cook and now he can at least fry an egg without burning it.

They always have at least one day per week where they just snuggle together in bed for a few hours in the morning and at night after Sieg and Freya are born. The twins join them at night for that.

After he retires from the battlefield, Meta sometimes uses his skills to try and invent something that can help Fetty with chores around the house. The results tend to vary.

Sometimes, if Meta is reading a book with Fetty sitting next to him, she'll try to read it over his shoulder. If she falls asleep while doing it, he puts her cape over her.

If Meta and Freya are gushing about mecha anime with Fetty, she just smiles and nods. She doesn't really know what they're talking about but she's happy that they are happy.

While Meta was still doing paperwork and reports, if Fetty though he was doing too much work, she would come into his room to help him relax, usually by transforming into her blob form and sitting in his lap.