#whether it's classic rock

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Ramones - It's Gonna Be Alright

[w1nds-0f-ch4ng3]

There’s two toms now and i can’t tell which one is my tom

[all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus]

it is very funny that the who seem to have a reputation as a blokey band, even by the band, given the coolest thing pete townshend ever did was keep one of his best albums for himself because he thought it was too gay for roger daltrey to sing

[pastafossa]

i’m curious and idk if you’ve answered something like this before but what type of music do you think matt and jane like, both individually or maybe what they’re introduced each other too etc etc

ok so I've been thinking about this since it came in but haven't had time until now BUT

Matt first! Matt mentions in S2 at the gala that he likes to listen to 90s Top 40. This includes a shit ton of good stuff - you've got everyone from Whitney Houston and Elton John to Nirvana and Green Day (no way teenage Matt didn't have a Green Day period). On top of that, in the comics iirc he mentions enjoying Jazz, and I know Charlie's been asked the same question and said he imagined Matt would like listening to classical (if I was building on that last one along with Matt's stated fondness for 90s top 40, I'd say he'd especially enjoy, say, an artist like David Garrett who frequently does rock covers with his violin). I could pick just one of those to lean into as to what Matt likes, but I don't think I need to. I think it's far more likely that Matt's a blend of musical tastes, because with his heightened senses, there'd be different things to appreciate with each. And while I do think there are songs and sounds he finds unpleasant, I think he can swing around pretty easily between genres. I see him listening to a fair amount of 90s/2000s rock (tends to drown the world out, and the rebellious streak in him probably takes some pleasure in enjoying what he might have been told was 'worldly listening' by nuns). But I also see him as enjoying a fair amount of softer classical songs or pop and folk (easier on his ears, or nice for dates as we know), as well as jazz (relaxing). This is great for Jane, because it means Matt would have an excellent talent for pulling out old hits she only vaguely remembers listening to but really enjoyed, and also for following her on whatever musical journey she takes - he'd also be a little more up to date on music than her, so he'd probably introduce her to some new(ish) alt artists, softer sounds usually - Jaymes Young, some of Hozier's newer stuff, songs he thinks she'll connect to.

Sweet moment: somewhere lost in the mountain of asks in my box I vaguely remember someone saying they could see Matt liking to play Jane love songs to see if he could get her to sing them later, like she was singing to him. And I love this and agree with it. Especially on bad and broken, self-loathing days, cause he needs love on those days, wants to hear Jane hum or quietly sing the words, because then it's like she's singing all that love to him. And once she figures out that's what he's doing, she makes a point of doing it more often, even putting on the songs herself and mumbling them quietly as he lays with his head on her chest, her fingers in his hair.

Jane next. I had to think about this for a while (and as always, as musical preferences are VERY personal, ya'll are free to disregard this). I can tell you that while she's ok with classical now and can even enjoy it sometimes (first date), she had to work at that one with Ciro since there was a lot of classical played 'for brain development' while she was at White Coat's facility. Outside that though, she wasn't sure what she liked when she first came out. She tried a lot of things with Ciro and Eli and Sophia, much like she did with food, hunting for what she enjoyed. I think, at least initially, a lot of the music she heard - classical, pop, jazz, country, ballads, Disney even - was too... gentle. Cause this poor kid? She was angry. She felt awkward, out of place. She still felt trapped by nightmares and PTSD, and wanted to feel free, to shout, to revel in something that wasn't slow and measured and soft, something that seemed to acknowledge the pain of what she'd went through. But you know what channeled those feelings really well? Fucking punk rock. And if we assume she's close to Matt's age, then at 16 she was freed at the right time to roll right into Green Day, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, and My Chemical Romance. I think she vibed hard with that genre during those few years with Ciro before going on the run again, and it's something she'll always have a fondness for even if she's now expanded her tastes - because ultimately I think, with where she's at now, she's become a bit of a racoon. She'd delight in listening to artists across multiple genres based solely on some random quirk or line or chorus that stuck in her head, just because she can. Which means Matt's just as likely to come home to Jane howling along to a nostalgic punk rock song as he is to her blasting some random Broadway tune she heard in a cab (no one is immune to Lin Manuel) or a Taylor Swift song on loop because this sounds like us, Matt, what the fuck, have you heard this?

Funny moment: needless to say she is not prepared for Dance Dance to be her song of the evening as Matt walks through the door one night - she freezes, wondering if this is going to be an Ow My Ears song.

At least until he throws out, 'I'm two quarters and a heart down' and tosses his cane as her eyes light up and he grins-

-then the chorus hits and they both fucking rock.

They both wind up collapsed on the floor giggling. And that's when she is reminded that, yet again, Matt is the perfect man to go with her wherever her music journey takes her.

[tortoisesshells]

Hello Tortie! Could you do 17, 25 and 30 for the music ask please :)

Absolutely, kind friend!

17. a song that reminds you of a good time

"Leslie Anne Levine" showed up twice, accidentally, on a road trip mix a friend burned for a long drive from college to the beach for a long weekend, and to this day, it's my "BEACH DAY!!!" song. Just ... don't mind the lyrics. there's nothing beachy about 'em.

25. the song currently stuck in your head OR the song you are listening to right now

"Goldmine", the soundtrack of many a daydream about learning how to play banjo.

30. your all-time favorite song

oh man. uh. Gun to my head, "The Mary Ellen Carter". But different gun to my head, probably "Dream a Little Dream of Me" (Fitzgerald & Armstrong, specifically.)

Music Asks

[squiggles-art]

Mike Wheeler sketch dump ‼️‼️‼️

[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[femmeroll]

older!sevika x younger!reader is currently occupying all my thoughts…(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

sevika x fem reader

cw: sfw and nsfw, age gap (everything is legal!), modern universe, fingering. if u don’t like it then don’t read it

older!sevika who has a hard time expressing her feelings for you through words. she feels awkward and out of character doting on you verbally.

she shows her love by acts of service and gifts. if she sees you eyeing up a dress while out shopping, she’ll buy it for you without a second thought. if you mention a craving for a certain meal, she’ll buy the ingredients and have it cooked for you the next day.

older!sevika watches youtube shorts at full volume everywhere. you get a little embarrassed when she plays them out loud in public, but you know she doesn’t mean to.

she also sends you like…fifteen instagram reels a day. most of the time you just heart them or send a laughing emoji.

the first time you use the crying emoji as laughing, she asks you why the video upset you.

older!sevika listens to a lot of classic rock. she’s not opposed to listening to whatever you’re into, though. she’ll listen to you ramble about your favorite artists for hours if you so chose.

a bit self indulgent…but if you’re into kpop, she’ll stay up trying to remember all the members names. you find one of those ‘guide to [insert group]’ videos on her youtube history one day.

older!sevika loves having you on her lap! whether it’s in public or private, the feeling on you perched on her lap makes her so happy. she likes showing you off.

she’ll absolutely pull you onto her lap in public if someone is flirting with you. it’s her way of saying ‘she’s mine, back the fuck off’ without actually having to say it.

older!sevika answers all of your questions. even if they have obvious answers. her favorite thing to tell you about it sports. she feels so affirmed when she gets to explain football terms to her pretty gf!!

“sevi? what’s a first down?”

“it’s the number of attempts a team has to move the ball ten yards, sweetheart. if it’s the first attempt…”

older!sevika gets so incredibly turned on by you. she’s in her forties, she’s had experience. but no one has ever got her going the way you do. a single brush of your hand against her bicep makes her want to flip you over and fuck you into next week.

sevika’s thick fingers are buried inside of your cunt. your face is nuzzled into the crook of her neck to hopefully drown out your moans and whimpers.

“my gorgeous baby girl. need to make you feel good…so perfect, and you’re all mine.”

she could do this for 10 days straight if she could. she lives to pleasure you. nothing does it for her like seeing you cum. on her fingers, on her strap, on her cunt, on her face. she doesn’t care. your pleasure is her pleasure.

older!sevika who loves her girl with all her heart, and is loyal to you until the very end of time <3

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; you throw rocks at his window, and vil expects a love confession, not whatever this is.

— notes; this was fun to write hehe. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s almost midnight, and you’re panicking.

❋ You can’t remember if Professor Crewel assigned homework, and you aren’t keen to be on the receiving end of his whip if you’ve forgotten to complete his assignments.

❋ Grim is absolutely no help (big surprise) and none of your other classmates can remember if there’s homework. Naturally, you figure that if anyone would know, it’s Vil, the epitome of discipline.

❋ Which is how you find yourself standing outside his window and throwing rocks to get his attention, like a medieval messenger.

❋ Inside, Vil’s thoroughly absorbed with his intricate skincare routine. He’s got the heater turned on, he’s wearing his favourite pink silk robe, and the lovely scent of lavender aroma oil fills the luxurious space.

❋ Initially, he assumes the tapping is just a stray branch. But when it doesn't stop, he finally gets up to investigate, his face twisted up into a scowl by the interruption at such a late hour.

❋ But when he looks out the window and sees you standing there with a handful of pebbles, Vil immediately assumes that it’s some grand, romantic gesture. He sighs dramatically, envisioning himself in a scene straight out of a classic romance movie.

❋ “Of course, someone would confess to me this way. Such effort deserves acknowledgment.”

❋ Critically, Vil surveys his reflection in the mirror. Once he’s satisfied with what he sees, he throws open the window with a grand flourish. The night breeze tousles his hair perfectly and a soft glow from his bedside lamp casts him in an ethereal light as he leans down, ready to hear your impassioned plea.

❋ “Hey, Vil! Do you remember if Professor Crewel gave us homework today? ’Cause I didn’t write it down . . .”

❋ The silence that follows is deafening. Vil blinks. Once. Twice.

❋ He’s not sure whether he heard that right. But you’re staring up at him so expectantly, looking completely unromantic. He’s envisioned a poetic declaration or to be stolen away in the dead of the night by his admirer, but no — he’s apparently nothing but a glorified assignment planner to you.

❋ “You threw rocks at my window this late at night . . . To ask me about your homework?” His voice is all clipped elegance, though internally, he’s seething. But externally . . . His face is turning a shade of red that could even rival Riddle’s.

❋ Oblivious to his growing rage, you blink up at him. “Well, yeah. It’s fine if you don’t know either, I figure I can —"

❋ Vil’s face instantly goes from expectant to offended, a mix of disbelief and exasperation clouding his features. The sheer audacity of interrupting his evening routine for something so mundane makes a vein throb in his temple.

❋ Without another word, he slams the window shut without answering your question.

❋ The sound of the lock clicking is so loud it echoes in the quiet night.

❋ “— Ask Epel instead?”

❋ When it becomes clear that Vil’s not coming back out anytime soon, you decide to head to Epel’s room (they live in the same dorm anyway, and you’re already here).

❋ Back inside his room, Vil is pacing furiously. He’s not sure what bothers him more: the lack of romance in this situation or the fact that you didn’t even seem remotely flustered at the sight of his dishevelled beauty.

❋ “Who even does that?!” He mutters, reapplying his eye cream aggressively.

❋ Out of the corner of his eye, Vil watches as you shuffle off into the night, not even pleading for his forgiveness before you go, or begging for another glimpse of his face.

❋ The absolute gall of you.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Ramones – Strength to Endure

[illyrianbitch]

What Lies Between Us

Pairing: Reader x Modern Detective! Azriel

Summary: Azriel has spent years trying to escape the ghosts of his past, retiring into a self-imposed exile despite a promising career as a talented detective. When you turn up at his door asking for help on a recent case, his world is disrupted.

Warnings: angst, outrunning memories, brief allusions to crime, details of injury, horrible yearning and longing tbh

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel let out a sigh as he fumbled for his keys, juggling a bag of groceries in one hand. The weight of it grew heavy, and he clenched his jaw in focus as he finally pushed his door open, blindly reaching for the lightswitch on his wall. 

A soft meow greeted him at his feet. Azriel glanced down to see Shadow, his black sleek fur gleaming under the light, weaving affectionately between his legs. Shadow's green eyes flicked up briefly before he leapt gracefully onto a bar stool and then the counter, nose twitching as he inspected the grocery bags Azriel placed down. He pulled back, seemingly unimpressed.

Azriel’s therapist was insistent that more greens would be beneficial in easing his anxiety. He said nothing about its relation to his nightmares, but Azriel didn’t have high hopes regarding whether broccoli could treat years of insomnia. Slowly, he pulled groceries from the bags, one by one. He almost snickered at the contents of his fridge— a few shelves now stocked with freshly bought produce, a carton of eggs, orange juice, butter, and a pack of beer. He shut the door. 

There were a few birthday cards on his fridge, held on by various traveling magnets he’d collected over the years. One card was from his mother, the words “sweet boy” staring back at him, written with a heavy hand and adorned with hearts she delicately drew. The others were from his friends, a stupid one from Cassian, a sweet one from Mor, even Elain had gifted him one— and an invitation to her wedding. 

He hadn’t gone. 

But you had. He knew this from the pictures Feyre had posted on Instagram.

Not that he was checking. He deleted Instagram soon after.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the cards. There was one missing, and his fingers traced the place it used to be, where he had stuck it for a week before he realized he couldn’t handle looking at it every morning as he made breakfast. That card was tucked away in his bedside drawer now. He saw it every night, instead. 

He let out a deep sigh, running his hands along his face, fingers brushing against the stubble that had begun to grow already. 

He had planned to cook a healthy meal tonight, to take his new prescription and finally attempt to get a good night's sleep. But the thought of chopping vegetables and cooking felt exhausting. He pulled out a beer.

The cap nicked his thumb as he twisted it off, but he barely registered the sensation, quickly drawing the neck of the bottle to his mouth. He greedily swallowed down the cheap contents and moved towards the living room. Shadow padded after him, tail flicking in curiosity, a step behind every move Azriel made.

His apartment was empty, save for a few decorations and his heavily decorated bookshelves. Two of the chairs in his living room were still new, and the smell of brand new leather clung to them heavily, making the entire room reek of a department store. Azriel’s apartment wasn’t a home. It was a place filled with furniture. Besides those cards on his fridge, not much hinted at any sign of a life well lived. 

Except the vinyl collection he now stood before. 

His collection was meticulously organized, spanning decades of music. Some were torn, tattered at the edges where he’d picked them up at vintage shops, others brand new from gifts he’d been given. 

Azriel selected a record. Its cover was worn and bent at the edges from drunken nights trying to carefully shove it back into its place. A classic rock album, the kind that filled the silence with powerful guitar riffs and soulful vocals— one of his favorites.He slid it from its sleeve, handling it with the care it properly deserved, and placed it on the turntable

Azriel wasn’t a flashy man, never one for fancy possessions, but this collection was his pride. The turntable itself was one of the nicest things he owned, if not the nicest. He cherished it, admired it every time he came into the living room. As the needle found its place, the familiar crackle precluded the strong, evocative notes of the electric guitar, filling the room with a warmth and soul that pulled a deep,weary sigh from his gut. 

Shadow brushed against Azriel’s legs again, and his eyes fell at the touch, gaze falling on his guitar propped against the wall.  A wave of sadness ran through him. Azriel approached it, running his fingers along its neck, along the dust that had gathered on top of it. The strings resisted against the scars on his fingertips.

He took a step back, grabbed his beer, and made his way towards the balcony. 

The rush of cold night air offered a welcoming reprieve from the stifling stillness of his apartment. The chill bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It reminded him that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than biting numbness, suffocating guilt.

The city buzzed below. Azriel was never a fan of New York. The city was loud, crowded, and full of distractions that made it hard for him to find the quiet he craved. He felt disconnected from it all, from the hums of life and sounds of cars. He’d never felt as lonely as he did recently, surrounded by hundreds of people. Taking another sip of his beer, he let the music wash over him, the rich melody pouring out into the open air. 

Azriel was only two songs in before there was a sudden knock on his door. 

He frowned and waited a minute for them to go away. Another knock followed, more insistent this time. Grumbling, he turned around and headed to the door, placing his beer on the counter.

"Damnit, Rhys,” Azriel called out, hand reaching out to pull his apartment door open, “I told you I didn't want to—" 

Azriel’s words died in his mouth as he opened the door, feeling a rush of emotions flood him all at once—relief, shock, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name.

You were as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you, at that family dinner where he’d done his best to avoid you. Your skin was tan now, a sun-kissed glow that Azriel quickly deduced was from the recent trip you’d taken with Mor and Feyre. You’d gone to Belize, and while Feyre was gone, he and Rhysand had taken a trip upstate, stayed at a small place Rhys owned. Rhys was smart enough to not bring you up throughout the week, but Az still saw all the pictures Feyre had sent him— pictures that included you beaming at the camera, drink in hand and those pink vintage sunglasses you’d bought at a flea market three years ago.

"Y/N," he breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi, Azriel,” you said, voice steady and soft, sweet like honey. It dripped down his skin and made him melt. His hand fell lax against the door handle. You gave him a small, almost unsure, smile. “I need your help.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed, gaze scanning your features for a moment. There were dark circles under your eyes— and your eyes, your eyes themselves seemed sad. Troubled. His stomach twisted into itself. You held his gaze for a moment before you were clearing your throat, shaking your head as if breaking the connection. 

“Can I come in?”

Azriel blinked. “Of course,” he finally replied, pulling the words from deep out of his chest. He gave a smile as he stepped aside and gestured for you to come in. “Please.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was strange to be so close to you, to watch as you gingerly took off your coat and draped it over one of his barstools. Azriel’s eyes traced your form before him— the bend of your spine as you leaned over, the jewelry on your wrist, the boots that you wore.Even with your back turned to him, Azriel knew you. Something was deeply troubling you. There was an evident tension in your body, in the way your shoulders moved, in your shallow breaths. 

His gaze lingered on your waist for a moment, on the way your body curved below your hips. He shook himself out of the daze, suddenly embarrassed and shameful. 

His eyes fell to the ground, where Shadow now mewed and rubbed against your legs. You looked down at the contact, letting out a small laugh. Shadow wasted no time before jumping onto the kitchen island, nudging against your arms affectionately.

Azriel moved quickly, scooping Shadow up and setting him back on the ground. “Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” you replied, a soft smile still playing on your lips. It was unsure— wary, even. The realization made Azriel’s stomach sink. He looked down at where Shadow was pressed against you once more.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something tender passing between you as he quietly said, “He missed you.”

Your gaze softened. A silence followed. It was heavy, but no longer uncomfortable. “I did too.”

The words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a warmth that neither of you dared to acknowledge fully. Azriel pushed away the thoughts in his mind that began to wonder if your words were meant for him, if you had missed him. He cleared his throat.

“What brings you by?”

You blinked, breaking the stare you were holding. “Right,” you said. You quickly turned back to your bag, fumbling slightly as you pulled out some papers and folders, gently placing them on the counter. 

You flipped one of the folders open, saying nothing as you glanced at Azriel before casting your eyes down at the papers before you. You took a deep breath.  “I need your help with a case.”

Azriel took a step forward, eyes glossing over the papers before him. He tightened his jaw. “You’re not supposed to be showing me these.”

He could get in trouble for being exposed to such sensitive information— and you, you were risking your career being here. 

“I know,” you replied. 

Azriel leaned forward, setting into a stance next to you. He ignored the way his skin prickled at the close proximity, instead placing a finger on the papers, pulling them closer to him. He frowned, brows furrowing as he took in the details. He casted a side glance at you.

You were already looking at him, a crease between your brows as you pressed your lips into a thin line.  

“Y/n,” Azriel murmured, “I’m not sure how I can be of any use.”

“Just hear me out,” you pleaded, moving closer to tap a finger on the papers. “They’re following a pattern. I need to get ahead of it. I’m stumped and you used to be great at these cases.”

Azriel’s frown deepened. “Is it a copycat?”

You paused. Azriel missed the flicker of hesitation in your eyes before you nodded. “Yeah, a copycat.”

He let out a contemplative hum. “Who?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, taking a step back as you remained quiet. Your silence was pronounced enough for Azriel to stiffen. He turned around slowly. His eyes gave away the question that was seated on the tip of his tongue. You nodded. 

Azriel stood still, his face hardening, but there was something in his eyes that looked awfully like fear, something in his gut that felt awfully like shame— like regret. He took a deep breath.

“I can't help you.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Azriel-”

“Y/n, I can’t help you,” He repeated, the words falling from his mouth like a practiced mantra of self-denial. “Request the files you need, talk to Cassian. He knows it just as well as I do.”

Azriel curled his hands into fists. He attempted to ignore the stone that sank in his stomach at the name of his friend, of his brother. Cassian. As if sensing his distress, Shadow mewed softly, weaving between Azriel’s legs.

“That is not true and you know it,” you retorted. There was a heavy sense of frustration that seeped into your voice, one that dripped from every word you said. You could feel the tension thickening the air, suffocating the space between you and Azriel. 

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. The stubborn set of his jaw made you falter further. You took a deep breath, lowering your voice to one much softer, much smoother. Azriel nearly melted at it, nearly found himself apologizing for everything he had done.

“I’ve requested access, I can talk to Cassian. But we both know you know things even I don’t. You kept meticulous records.”

“I-”

"Please," you interrupted, your voice pleading. "Az.”

Azriel’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. He let out a small sigh and then he offered you a nod. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he turned and made his way down the small hallway, the echoes of his footfalls filling the quiet space. 

His bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the apartment, and his gaze flickered to the bedside table as he passed. He stilled for a moment, feeling another heavy wave of sadness wash through him. Another second passed before he pulled his mind away, forcing himself to walk into his closet. 

It took a few moments of pushing aside boxes and clothing before he found it, running his hands along the small safe tucked away in the back wall. With a practiced hand, he dialed the combination, the soft click of the lock releasing echoing in the room. The door opened gently, revealing its contents—a sleek handgun nestled among a jumble of items, including a worn leather journal and a stack of notes. Brushing his hand over the cold metal of the gun, Azriel reached for the journal, its worn cover familiar beneath his touch. Tucking it under his arm, he closed the safe with a sense of finality.

Returning to where you stood, Azriel found it difficult to meet your gaze again, opting to keep his eyes trained on the journal in his hand and Shadow at his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was just him that suddenly felt so smothering, or if there was something in the air that made it hard for him to breathe. 

He offered you the journal with an extended hand. For a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. A familiar warmth ran through Azriel’s body and he resisted the urge to recoil from the intensity of it alone. 

His hand stayed in the air for a moment, suspended in the moment of your touch. You glanced down at his palm, eyes drifting to his bare ring finger. Your eyes softened and Azriel followed your gaze, immediately pulling his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” you murmured, turning around to place it on top of your bag. You kept your back to him for a moment, and Azriel traced the curve of your spine with his eyes, watched how you placed two hands to brace yourself on the counter as you sighed. You slowly turned around.

“Azriel-”

The glint in your eyes told him where the conversation was bound to lead. He cut you off as fast as he noticed. “I can’t.”

You deflated, shoulders falling slightly as your gaze danced across his face. “You didn’t even let me speak.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said softly. He shifted on his heels, shoving his hands further into his pockets. “I can’t get involved. This is all I can do.”

“Alright,” you finally replied, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you absentmindedly nodded your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” He took an instant step forward, hand naturally flying out to touch your arm. He realized his movement before he made contact, letting his hand fall awkwardly at his side. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I better get going.”

Please don’t.

“Yeah.”

Please stay. 

As you started to gather your belongings, slipping the journal into your bag and pulling your jacket on, Azriel's gaze remained fixed on you. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as you reached for your jacket and pulled it on, your shirt hiking up to reveal the beginning of a jagged scar along your abdomen. He deflated, casting his eyes to the ground. A wave of self-loathing washed over him and he clenched his hands at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

It wasn’t until you were opening his front door that Azriel found the courage to look up, mustered the strength to meet your eyes.

“Y/n-” Azriel paused. His heart thudded loudly in his eardrums. He felt a faint tugging sensation in his chest, as if his body itself was screaming at him to get closer to you, to not let you leave. He swallowed down the selfish words he wanted to say, and instead offered you a wary, but warm, smile. “Be careful. This might just be a copycat, but they’re still as dangerous. I want you to be safe.”

“I know.” Something in your face softened, and you offered him a half smile. His eyes darted to the small dimple on your cheek. “I will be.”

You turned to leave, but no movement followed. Instead, you stilled, hand tapping on the handle before you turned around again. “It was nice to see you, Az.” 

He gave you a small, curt nod. His chest tightened. “You too, Y/n.”

“Take care of yourself.”

And then you were gone. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel sat on the couch, the soft hum of his chosen record filling the otherwise quiet apartment. His hand absentmindedly rubbed Shadow's head as he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Weeks had passed since he last saw you, but you were never far from his mind. He had toyed with the idea of reaching out to you, of asking how things were going, but the thought was quickly dismissed. It was inappropriate on multiple levels. You weren't in each other's lives anymore, and he shouldn't have known about the case in the first place. So he resigned himself to living in his mind, replaying that night over and over, wondering if he should have asked you to stay, if he should have offered more help.

There was a knock at the door. 

Azriel jumped at it, head twisting over his couch to look at his entrance. He pushed himself up, lifting Shadow from his lap as he made his way to the door. The cat emitted a discontented sound as he settled back into a lying position.

His heart fluttered with anticipation as he made his way to the door, a small glimmer of hope now flickering in his chest. Could it be that his prayers had been answered? That you were here again, unable to stop thinking about him just like he couldn't stop thinking about you?

Azriel took a deep breath as he reached for the doorknob.

He prepared to muster up a smile, running greetings through his mind, knowing himself well enough that he’d stumble at seeing your face once more. But as he swung the door open, his face fell flat.

"Rhys.”

Rhysand offered him a smile, but it lacked its usual warmth, troubled lines etched into his features. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared. There was a stiffness to his stance, a subtle rigidity that made Azriel’s stomach drop. 

"What is it?" Azriel asked.

Rhys met his gaze, eyes filled with a darkened sense of worry. There was a glint of apprehension in his eyes, as if he were hesitant to speak. He swallowed.

"It's Y/n," Rhys finally said, "She's missing."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

this idea appeared to me in a dream and i had to write it... will it ever come to fruition? who knows??? but i do love a good haunting of the narrative.... az finding us....az being thrown back into a world he thought he left behind...... lord its such yummy angst

so lmk if you’re interested in being tagged in a part 2 :)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[cubiclez]

RANDOM ZERO DAY HCS

TW/CW: SH & GORE: ones that are about this will be in italic

more will be added to this list eventually! updated 12/15/24

-andre is chronically ill in some way. he’s often getting sick and he has days where he throws up often. he refuses to have anyone care for him though, as he feels like he’s independent enough.

-cal experiments with fire. he used to start fires in his backyard when he was a young teenager but after his mom caught him & gave him a lecture about it, he resorted to starting them out in the field before or after shooting with andre.

-andre will wear the same three outfits, while cal has a problem with owning too many clothes, specifically band tees.

-andre’s good in science and history, while cal prefers english for the poetry and writing aspect. they both can’t do math, but andre is somewhat better than cal so he copies off of him, whether andre likes it or not.

-cal and his siblings had a hamster growing up. they probably named it something basic like ‘buddy’, and when it died they buried it in a shoebox and had a funeral for it.

-somewhere in the kriegman household, there are photos of mel sleeping in andre’s bed with him when he was younger.

-speaking of mel, she’s woke the boys up before at a sleepover by jumping on them and trying to get their attention. when they finally got up, turns out she just wanted to be fed.

-rachel is a great artist and often draws portraits and eyes. she’s tried to get cal to stay still for her so she could draw him. cal claims it ‘doesn’t look like him’ to tease her.

-modern-day rachel is also the type to own a flickr, tumblr or pinterest account to post her photos. they would usually be of nature, drawings, her and her friends, sunsets, and outfits.

-rachel has a german shepherd and/or a shih tzu. she also posts tons of photos of her pets.

-if cal lived long enough to witness the peak of gore sites, he would have a big, bulky laptop infected with viruses from visiting them. andre would also watch gore with him and give tons of commentary as he’s watching, while cal just stares.

-sometimes, when everyone’s asleep, cal goes into a dissociative state where he doesn’t feel like he’s real. he’s numb and is almost convinced he can’t feel pain. in response to this he will cut. he does it on his thighs and forearms. he also burns himself if he doesn’t have a blade.

-andre knows about cal’s sh, but cal didn’t tell him. he found out. it confused him a little when he first found out, but he’s still learning how to understand it.

-andre listens to classic rock and some german artists. he’s not too deep into the music scene as cal is, so cal’s always on his ass about ‘name three songs.’

-cal smokes weed before school sometimes. when he can’t do that, he’ll skip class to smoke. he does it out of a water bottle, and andre thinks it’s disgusting and tells him to ‘just get a bong or a pipe if he’s gonna do that’.

-andre has tried thc once with cal. he didn’t like it as he felt it made him ‘too aware and too nervous’. however he will take cbd as a pain reliever.

-cal has done, or at least considered doing shrooms. he knows a few people who can get him some, and the days leading up to zero day make him think ‘i might as well, before i die’.

-andre takes quick, cold showers. cal’s in there for an hour with the water steaming hot. he’s nearly passed out from it, multiple times.

-cal draws on the desks in school all the time. his desk is covered in drawings and it only gets more and more filled as the days go on, because the teachers just gave up on telling him to stop.

-rachel has a couple friends that rebel more than her, so she’s coined as the ‘innocent one’ or the ‘goody two-shoes’. she’s still popular nonetheless, but known as the nice girl.

-modern day cal is a white monster junkie. sometimes he gets the original flavour too.

-it broke rachel’s heart when she found out about cal’s sh. cal never intended to tell anyone, but over time he got a bit too comfortable and accidentally let the fact slip out in conversation. she was scared and after that she would always double-check to make sure cal was okay. cal didn’t know how to accept her kind words, and i like to think he died still not fully believing she cared.

-cal and andre getting their hands on the first sims game once it came out. they’d make brad huff, giving him the ugliest and most overdramatized features. they’d make each other, too. they’d argue when they get to see the reveal of their characters, but it’s the funniest thing ever at the same time. the night ends off with them making their own sims and brad’s sim fight and other shenanigans.

-andre’s lips get chapped easily causing them to peel, so he developed a habit of biting the skin off.

-cal’s hands are always cold. like, concerningly cold. he’ll put his hand on andre’s arm randomly sometimes and make him jump. it catches him off guard and pisses him off every time.

[dalliancekay]

Singing

I feel, we as a fandom, don’t talk enough about Aziraphale's singing.

Maybe he's not much into whatever pop/rock sensation is currently in most humans earphones*, but we know that he used to be a music tutor and therefore surely knows many great tunes.

On top of that, his music taste isn't as ancient as some might think... yes he likes classical music, but contrary to some opinions of it, not all of it is from 18th century. The symphony (number 5) he buys from Maggie at the beginning of S2 was written in 1937 by Dimitri Shostakovich who had a turbulent life (it being the 1930s AND trying to survive in Stalin's cruel regime).

The piece the Bentley plays for Azi when he asks for music on his way to Edinburgh is one of my favourite pieces of music called Danse Macbre by Saint-Saëns, the opening of which Wikipedia describes thus:

The piece opens with a harp playing a single note, D, twelve times (the twelve strokes of midnight) which is accompanied by soft chords from the string section. The solo violin enters playing the tritone, which was known as the diabolus in musica ("the Devil in music") during the Medieval and Baroque eras, consisting of an A and an E♭—in an example of scordatura tuning, the violinist's E string has actually been tuned down to an E♭ to create the dissonant tritone.

Aziraphale is also clearly aware of the film and the music + songs from The Sound of Music (1965) and Aziraphale, living in Soho as he does, I bet is a great lover of not just drama in theatre, but also musicals.

Therefore it is not a huge reach to conclude he would knows some fabulous songs to sing while making himself a pot of tea and a cup of coffee for Crowley on one the countless idyllic mornings in their cottage. Nor is it a stretch to assume that he loves to sing Crowley to sleep, playing with his hair as he does so, much like we all love to see in art and fics that this wonderful fandom provides.

So my question is, what does Aziraphale love to sing? Is it Maria from West Side Story? Singing in the Rain?

Does he love Jesus Christ Superstar (much like he loves his collection of misprinted Bibles)? Did he and Crowley go see Hamilton?

I also think they would have a huge collection of instruments in their cottage, perhaps even a beautiful grand piano... that, of course, they both can play. *but neither is the Bentley, who plays Queen to Crowley basically indiscriminately, even though he tries to play other things when driving. Whether he tried to play music in his car before the 70s, I'm not sure we know?

[coochellati]

Living With Bruno - Headcanons

Hi guys. I hope you are all doing okay. These past 24 hours have been rough for those affected by American politics.

In the name of comfort and escapism, I’ve been imagining what living with Bruno would look like. For instance—What does Bruno do in his spare time? What does his house look like? Is he a neat person? (spoiler alert: he definitely is.) And what is he like behind closed doors?

I’ll be diving into these questions (and more!) under the break!

Bruno lives in his modest childhood home by the sea, and he hasn’t changed much of the furniture or decor since his parents decorated it. Almost everything is as it was when he was a kid—it gives him a sense of comfort.

During the day, he loves to let the salty sea breeze in through open windows. At night, the lighting feels warm and inviting. Bruno is mindful of energy costs; he only uses lights when needed. Candlelight often fills the home after dark, adding a cozy ambiance. Bruno Bucciarati is a neat person, so his home is impeccably kept.

Bruno spends most of his time in his living room, partly because it’s where his record player lives. It sits between two speakers on top of a waist-high bookshelf in his living room that holds his impressive record collection, including genres such as jazz, prog rock, classical, and more. (He has a whole section dedicated to Miles Davis.) He’s added a desk to the room so he can work while listening to his vinyls. On the wall hangs one of his father’s old fishing nets, a reminder of the vow he made to his father to fight against drugs.

His childhood bedroom is mostly unchanged, having the same furniture and arrangement as when he was young. A small bookshelf holds the stories his mother used to read to him, and pictures of his parents rest on his nightstand.

His parents’ bedroom remains as it was when his father passed. Besides keeping it clean, Bruno hasn’t altered a thing in there, finding something almost sacred in its preservation.

Bruno’s also got a pretty decent wine collection stashed in the cellar, with some expensive, rare bottles. Being careful with money, he rarely splurges on high-end wine, so most of these rare bottles were gifts.

(I headcanon that Bruno is passionate about wine. If you’re interested in hearing about why I believe this, here’s a link to this post.)

Bruno Bucciarati definitely uses his walls for storage.

Before moving in, Bruno will chat with you about your needs. For instance, do you have any allergies? Do you have sensitive skin and need to use special laundry detergent? Are there certain foods you won’t eat? His home is now your home—he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

Bruno may not be a fan of PDA, but behind closed doors, he isn’t shy about showing affection. Whether it be a peck on the cheek, warm smiles, hand-holding, cuddling to Miles Davis, etc., Bruno is always happy to be close to you. (This goes without saying, but he loves when you reciprocate!)

You might often catch Bruno watching you with quiet admiration. For example, he lets you get ready for bed first so he can just observe you—it’s his way of reminding himself that he now has someone to come home to. For him, it’s like gazing at a winning lottery ticket.

However, like many people, there are moments when Bruno needs his personal space. (Especially if he’s very stressed or it’s work-related.) After all, everyone needs some alone time now and then, and he’ll do his best to let you know ahead of time. Don’t worry about upsetting him if you need to see him during this time—Bruno would never be mad about it. He’ll also reassure you there’s nothing wrong with your relationship if it’s something you need to hear.

Everyone has their flaws, and communication isn’t something Bruno is always the best about. He tends to keep stressful things to himself, to “shoulder the burden,” so to speak. In his mind, he believes he’s protecting you, but this can lead to him acting in unpredictable ways that only make sense if you have the full story.

For instance—remember when Trish asked Narancia why Bruno was such a cold person?

Bruno had a reason for his behavior, as he was close to death. But without knowing the entire story, Trish saw him as cold and uncaring. This is exactly the kind of misunderstanding I’m talking about—without context, Bruno’s actions can give the wrong impression.

Afterward, Narancia told to Trish that this was just how Bruno behaved, and she would understand if she got to know him better. While this dynamic of unexplained behavior may work in a subordinate-leader relationship, this isn’t the type of relationship you and Bruno have. Seeing you happy and safe is what matters most to him, but he doesn’t always go about it in the best way.

Communication is something the two of you may have to work through together.

As noted, Bruno is a neat person. Keeping everything clean and organized helps him stay focused and level-headed. On his days off, he keeps up with chores so his place stays in top shape—he also finds it calming.

Laundry and Ironing are two chores he doesn’t mind doing. Bruno takes great pride in the way he dresses so taking care of his clothes is very important to him. He also happens to be very good at removing stains. (Wearing white clothes regularly will force you to get good at it.) Like many Italians, Bruno doesn’t own a washer or dryer. This means everything gets washed by hand and hung outside to dry. (No need to splurge when you can do your laundry yourself.) Because clothes get stiff when air dried, Bruno irons everything, including socks, underwear, and towels. (This isn’t uncommon in Italy either.)

Bruno is quite skilled at cooking, a talent he developed while caring for his father. (He’s also picked up tips from Polpo’s unsolicited rants about food.) On the topic of cooking, Bruno tends to be big on meal prep, given that he doesn’t always have the time or energy to cook after a long day at work. Therefore, I can see him making a comical amount of food at once to store for later. You’ll walk in and the kitchen table looks like this:

If there’s one chore Bruno doesn’t enjoy, it’s taking out the trash. At first, I thought he’d have it easy because of the fact he could “zipper” it away inside the ground, but as stated to Trish inside Coco Jumbo, he has no idea where things go when he does that—probably best not to risk littering underground.

Bruno is very good about keeping clean. Every morning starts with a cold shower, which he enjoys for the mental clarity and alertness it brings. He’s happy to let you join him if he isn’t in a time constraint, and upon doing so, he’ll adjust the water temperature to something more suited to your preference. (Since he takes cold showers, he’s fine with pretty much any temperature as long as it isn’t scalding.)

If you end up showering with him, expect it to take a while. ;) (Especially if he has nothing going on that day.) His hands gently grazing your sides, he’ll likely start by asking if he can wash you. If you say yes, he’ll begin to gently and meticulously wash every part of you with an awestruck expression gracing his face. (“How did I get so lucky?” He’ll wonder.)

Araki designed Bruno with shiny, meticulously styled hair, which suggests to me that Bruno puts effort into caring for his hair. Healthy hair isn’t just good genes—Bruno goes a little further than just using shampoo and conditioner to maintain it. For instance, he definitely uses leave-in conditioner and hair oil. I can also see him using a hairdryer to blow out his hair and give it that perfect bob shape.

It’s impressive how fast Bruno can get ready for the day, considering all that goes into his daily styling. (You should see how fast he can braid his hair.) It takes him about 16-17 minutes to get ready, 10 more if he has to dry his hair.

Bruno finishes his routine with a few spritzes of cologne.

Around the house, Bruno dresses casually—no need for a fancy suit if no one’s around to see it. However, he will dress up if he’s expecting a visitor.

Sleeping next to you makes Bruno realize how fucking stressed he is all the time. His lifestyle/career has turned him into someone who is constantly hyper-vigilant, so it’s no wonder that Bruno is a very light sleeper. (That, plus the trauma from the night two intruders tried to kill Bruno’s dad while his dad was asleep. ) On his own, he tends to wake up multiple times in the middle of the night, but when he sleeps next to you, he usually stays asleep.

The best part about sleeping next to Bruno? He doesn’t really snore, possibly thanks to being a side sleeper. He also sleeps in pajamas, just in case he has to get up quickly. (Imagine being caught naked as intruders walk into your bedroom.)

I imagine Bruno uses the same bed he did as a kid. Therefore, I bet it is the Italian equivalent of a full-sized bed. This bed size has always worked for him, though he’d likely get a larger one if a partner moved in.

(You really can’t tell the size of the bed from the photo. It could very well be a twin instead of a full.)

Bruno typically starts his mornings bright and early at 6:30 am. He usually aims for about seven hours of sleep, going to bed around 11 p.m. or midnight, though it’s not unusual to see him working until 1 or 2 a.m. (So yeah… he never really gets enough sleep.)

In his downtime, Bruno likes to unwind with a book or by listening to records with a glass of wine—though these moments don’t happen as often as they should since he’s a bit of a workaholic.

Sometimes, he’ll take a walk to the shore where his dad used to dock and sit for a while. He finds it comforting—this is one way he feels he can stay connected to his dad.

Thank you for reading!!! this was super fun to write! I hope this post was able to provide you some comfort 💕

[softspiderling]

still thinking about "like, ever", I hope they're doing wonderful, these little stoic bbs :3

stop ily. i know you didn’t ask for this but you’ll get it anyway😭

truly madly deeply | j.v

Squinting your eyes at the screen, your finger tips hovered over the keyboard, the cursor blinking, like it was mocking you. You only had about 200 words left to write in your paper, but you felt like you had stretched it as much as possible. Your mind was completely blank and you were trying your hardest to get some more words on the document, but nothing.

It didn’t help that you could feel Jace’s eyes burning into the back of your head.

He had come over around 3 in the afternoon, even though you had told him that you were just gonna work on your paper.

“I don’t mind,” he had said, “I just wanna be around you.”

That proved true for about the first half hour. Then, he started to get antsy. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the room had grown noticeable darker, when your eyes flickered away from the screen as Jace let out yet another sigh.

“Jace.”

Your voice was exhausted, annoyed and Jace pushed himself off of your bed, coming up behind your chair.

“Don’t you think it’s time to take a break, baby?” He asked, his lithe fingers dipping into your tense muscles and it took everything in you to not melt into his touch.

“I only need 200 more words,” you argued, albeit weakly. “If I take a break now, I won’t sit back down.”

“You haven’t written a single word in the past ten minutes.”

You let out a groan, leaning your head back and casting your eyes upwards, meeting his gaze.

“I know.”

Jace grinned at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come on. It’s late, and you must be starving. It won’t kill you to take a break now. I promise you’ll be so much more productive after.”

You protested but Jace had none of it as he all but dragged you out of your chair and out of your bedroom. The rest of your apartment was empty. Baela and Rhaena had gone home to visit their parents and Helaena was on an excursion with her class. It was odd for your apartment to be so quiet. It was always so loud, whether it was Baela’s rock music blaring out of her speakers, Rhaena’s old sewing machine in the living room or one of Hel’s old classic movies running in the background.

Jace’s frat house wasn’t much different. It was a frat house after all, which was why he seemed refuge at your apartment often.

“I don’t think we have any food at home,” you told Jace as he walked towards the kitchen. He glanced at you, a grin tugging on his lips as he opened the fridge to reveal a tupper, which he must have brought with him.

“Luke just came back from home,” Jace said, grabbing two plates out of the cupboard. “Mom sent him back with some food.”

He opened the tupperware and your eyes widened at the content: a homemade lasagna.

“Stop, that looks so good,” you sighed and Jace winked at you, dividing the lasagna in half between the two of you. After a quick heat up in the microwave, you and Jace got comfortable on your couch, and soon your belly was warm and filled.

“How you feeling now?” Jace asked, combing his fingers through your hair.

“Better,” you replied, eyes fluttering closed. “I don’t think I’ll make it back to my desk, though.”

Jace snickered quietly, letting you tuck yourself against his side. “It’s not due until tomorrow night, right? You have plenty of time to finish it.”

You let out a small hum, acknowledging his words, your limbs growing heavier as exhausting overtook you. It wasn’t long until your breath evened out, and Jace shifted to make it more comfortable for you. Pressing a kiss in your hair, he let out a soft sigh.

“I love you,” you mumbled in your sleep and Jace’s heart skipped a beat. He knew he loved you. Had for a while. He just hadn’t been quite brave enough to say it, but hearing you utter those words? Even in your sleep?

Jace’s face lit up and he nuzzled into your side. “I love you too,” he said quietly, in the privacy of your apartment. He’d tell it to you when you were awake soon enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: oh hello lmfao. tagging @eldrith bc she whined about me not tagging her last time whatever

[thepettymachine]

Wandering Souls Challenge for TS3

Heeey so I made another challenge. Might be the last one I ever make who knows. But I got inspired by the Postcard Legacy for TS4 and made something similar but not similar to it. It took a minute to make but I hope you enjoy

Wandering Souls Challenge is a 10 generation legacy challenge where you go through multiple jobs and careers with story elements involved. This is a challenge if you don't wanna do just one career all of your sims life and don't mind moving around + mild drama but not soul shattering.

Tag: "wandering souls challenge" or "@" me

Rules:

I didn't really make any but don't feel obligated to do everything as an objective. Somethings you probably aren't going to get to everything and that's okay. If you do everything congratulations, if you don't move on.

I have no designated way to play this (ex: what town do you recommend in playing with this), I'm giving the player what they want to do within the confines of this challenge. It's your sandbox not mine.

You do have some optional goals for extra fun if you choose to do so.

Have fun

Carry On Wayward Son

When you were young, you didn’t take anything as serious as your music. Your obsession with the chords became as necessary as breathing and you’ll do anything but sell your soul to the industry. But as you grew older and had a family, you wish for more structure with your music in hopes for it to reach the people that desperately need to hear it. So you find an indie record company and work with them because your artistic freedom is still the forefront of why you’re doing all of this. Plus feeding your family and paying the bills. 

Objectives:

Start by making money through collecting tips while working part time jobs

Half way through your YA years, you try a Singing career or being part of a band but it doesn’t work out

As an adult, you enter into the Music career for more structure and to reach a larger fanbase

Pick a branch between classical or rock

Your lover/(s) must be all creative types like you (artist, sculptor, architect, musician, street artist, etc)

You encourage your children to also pursue the arts

Master all 4 instruments (guitar, bass, piano, and drums)

Get at least 3 tattoos somewhere on your body

2. Jeffrey Jeffrey Simzos

If the Grinch and Scrooge had a love child, it would be you. You couldn’t really get behind your parent’s idealistic dreams about music and art, it felt unstable and unrealistic to you. You want wealth and power at your fingertips and anyone at your beck and call. Whether its through a wealthy spouse, your boss, the corporate ladder, or getting into politics, you will reach the top. For there is no redemption arc and no grace to be given for Greed has already devoured the remnants of your dead beating heart.

Objectives:

Have bake sales as a child and dislike any attempts at the arts

Join the Business career

Be enemies with all of your coworkers

Go from a small house/apartment to a big mansion/house

Be the owner of multiple businesses around town + an additional home

Marry a rich sim you definitely married for money

Have at least one child with the butler or maid you hired

You become more power hungry so you join Politics after reaching level 8 of Business career

Steal campaign funds 

Your kids must be the top of their class, no exceptions (straight A’s, no skipping school, be apart of a club) or they are sent to boarding school

You are not close with any of your children

Optional: woohoo your boss

3. Yes Chef

Because excellence was required of you as a child, you tend to have a strong work ethic and unrealistic expectations for yourself and others while despising what you had to endure in your upbringing. The one good thing out of it was discovering your love of cooking. Cooking was a way for you to escape your worries and as an adult you desire to be a chef, going against everything your parents raised you with. You started from the bottom and found your way all the way at the top as head chef. But something is missing and so you explore other cultures and find new excitement in  nectar making. You figure when you retire, you wanna spend the rest of your days being a nectar maker on a giant farm in the countryside.

Objectives:

Start at the diner for the first half of your career, then move over to the bistro for the second half

Bartend for bars at night for extra income

Read every recipe and learn all the fancy drinks

Master Cooking & Mixology

Marry your childhood friend or high school friend you haven’t seen in years

Cook your spouse and children their favorites meals at least once

At the top of your career, you get bored and visit travel other cultures for their cuisine (go to France, Egypt, and China to learn their food recipes)

Get inspired by nectar making 

When becoming an Elder, move to the countryside, retire as a chef, and become a self employed nectar farmer. 

4. Country Roads, Take Me Home

You’ve always found interest in nature as a kid and instead of wanting to be in the comfy suburbs or stargazing the city’s skylines.You even had a knack for bringing stray animals into your home but they always seemed to run away when you left for school (according to your parents). That’s why instead of working a typical 9-5, you fulfill your childhood dream of being on a farm and working with your bare hands. Building a life you always dreamed of yet will work hard to maintain. There’s no sleeping in for this dreamer.

Objectives:

As a child you were part of the scouts

Live on a farm or ranch

Work as a self employed gardener

Master the Fishing, Gardening, and/or Riding skill

Adopt 2 strays (horse, dog or cat)

Marry your helper on the farm or Marry a townie that loves the outdoors/animal lover trait

Wake up in the early hours of the day

Have a big family cause free child labor

Raise a horse from baby to elder 

Optional: Own a cow plant 

Optional: Win the highest horse competition (racing or jumping)

5. He was #1

You’ve always had an interest in the outdoors but sports was your passion and you’re very good at it. So good, you were being scouted by agents who hoped to take you to the pros and have your name chanted by the thousands. Your dream did come true but another did not. You’re a closeted hopeless romantic who always wished to find their soulmate and have a family, but being a professional athlete with a recognizable face has made it difficult for you to find true authentic love. What will it take for you to find love and will you have to choose between your two greatest loves or can they both coexist together for your sake.

Objectives:

Enjoy your outdoor activities (playing ball, going to the pool, camping, etc) once a week

Find love through online dating 

Go on 3 dates with a person before committing 

Host a big wedding party and bachelor/bachelorette party and if possible, ask your partners parents for their blessing

Master the Athletic skill

Become a stay at home parent when you reach level 6  of the sports career

After a sports injury that takes you out of the field. You find yourself recovering and unemployed and decide to take care of your children while deciding your next move. 

You realize you want to be a sports agent so you go back to college as an adult and get your physical education degree 

Reach level 10 of Jock social group. 

Join the Sports Agent career

Gain the Eternally Faithful Moodlet

6. You Blinded Me with Science:

Curiosity killed the cat or in your case it just made you curiouser. You couldn’t keep your hands still and always have to be tinkering with something. So much so that you lost your beloved job at the science lab because you kept goofing around with some scrap from the town’s junkyard during company hours. No worries, you just decided to go all in with being a self made inventor and creating gizmos and gadgets the world has never seen before. Except one day, you find a mysterious device you’ve never seen before and upon activating it, you end up in the future. There are alot more prettier machines than the ones you’ve been messing around with and you sorta take one home with you. Oh well what’s the worst that can happen. 

Objectives:

Start out in the Science career but get fired after reaching lvl 3 in inventing and join the Inventor self employed career 

You spend your weekends messing around in the town's junkyard and blowing stuff up for your experiments. The neighbors even catch you dumpster diving around town 

Marry someone just as eccentric and quirky as you (ex: eccentric, neurotic, insane, socially awkward, slob, etc)

Master the handiness and inventing skills

Create all inventions, including a simbot

Make some of your children through the Time Machine (past: child - YA/ future: elder, you can age down if you wish) 

All your children’s traits have to be randomized

Optional: Go into the future and obtain all the gadgets to bring them back home to the present 

Optional: You even bring back home a plumbot and learn how to take care of one

Optional: Leave the Inventor career and present and work in the Astronomy career in the future.

7. Who You Gonna Call?

This generation can be played in two different ways. The choice is up to you. (Also double heirs can be accepted for this gen)

Super Skeptic Route:

The question you’ve always asked yourself was “Are Ghosts Real?” You believed in the supernatural, the horror stories, and the abduction of Bella Goth and was hoping to find evidence in the graveyards. But alas you could never find your ghosts and your dreams were crushed. Now as an adult, you’ve become a skeptic and believe it all to be a charade and try to speak sense into the “sheep” around you to see the light. Until one day you do encounter a ghost and for the last time, you investigate into the question, “Are Ghosts Real?”.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Skeptic trait. 

You dabble in Alchemy but it never takes effect on you. 

Join the Con Artist branch of the Fortune Teller career

Encounter 3 ghosts to convince you that ghosts are real

Leave the Fortune Teller career to become a Ghost Hunter

You convince Ghosts to move on/ Set them free rather than have them experiment on by the science lab (avoid opportunities that say otherwise) 

Do all investigations (spirit invasion, paranormal investigation, poltergeist haunting, ghostly presence, angry ghost invasion)

Ultra Fan Route:

As a child, you always found yourself interested in what couldn’t be reasoned or argued against, the supernatural. You obsessed over horror stories, wandered into graveyards, deep subreddits of conspiracies behind Bella Goth’s abduction and studied too many ways to become one. You started to give up hope of ever becoming one. Until one day you befriend a fellow occult member of society and it changed your life forever.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Fan trait

Master the Alchemy skill

Start a side hustle of being an author writing primarily in the horror genre

Publish 15 horror books

Join the Mystic branch of the Fortune Teller career

Befriend a supernatural of your choice to be turned into

Get 1st place at Trivia night at the Vault of Antiquity

8. Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Being a doctor was something you always thought you wanted to be. It came with status, notoriety, respect, money, student loans, and it was something more stable than what your parents were able to give you. You worked hard and got into the Medical career where you met your spouse and lived in a beautiful home with your two kids and pet. It’s like everything worked out in the end. But your desire to see the world burn just keeps rearing its ugly head and you can no longer contain the person you thought you repressed for so long. It desires the status and respect you’ve obtained but also infamy, underlings, and power.

Objectives:

Have the Evil trait

As a teen, be a straight A student, work a part time job, and be best friends with your parents, enemies with your siblings (if applicable)

Choose to go to college on full scholarship or enter the Medical career immediately. 

Marry a fellow coworker whose as ambitious or hardworking as you

Live in a nice home with a white picket fence, 2 kids and a pet of your choice

Befriend some townies who work in the Criminal career

Donate to criminal organizations at least once a week

Leave your job in the Medical career in your adult years

Join the Criminal career

Choose the Evil branch of the Criminal career and reach the top

Optional: Divorce your spouse, find a new home, bring the kids (or don’t) and marry your criminal coworker.

9. Baywatch

You used to work in law enforcement until the red tape got to you and so you went to become a private investigator. Solving crimes and digging through trash got exhausting and difficult as you try to serve others yet the system kept letting you down. After having a midlife crisis, You’ve come to realize that helping people can be simple, enjoyable, and have a great ocean view. Being a lifeguard wasn’t in the career plan but saving lives from the depths of the oceans and looking good in red too. Not a bad career change.  

Objectives:

Join the law enforcement career

Become friends with/date your cop partner 

When reaching level 5 of the career, you leave your job to go into the Investigative career to get away from the red tape 

Continue being an investigator until your Adult years

Have a midlife crisis and complete all the wishes or go get therapy at the hospital

At the end of your crisis, you join the Lifeguard career

Find an island or befriend a mermaid  

Master the scuba diving skill and logic skills

10. Master of None

Oh the journey you have been on. From caring about the music to fighting robbers in people’s homes, you’ve been through it all. As you worked hard for what you wanted, You have reached this crossroad and wonder what it all means and what it meant before. Maybe discovering yourself is what the journey is all about or maybe it's the experiences that shape you that gives you your form. Regardless, you’ve been feeling torn about what to do now and with no destination, maybe you start to express who you truly are. Who knows. There is no rush in the process or a destination in sight, only the curiosity that keeps your soul wandering on the journey.  

Objectives:

Join at least 5 different careers you haven’t played in this challenge (Education, Magician, Firefighter, Stylist, etc)

Have 3 best friends you maintain until Elder

Start dabbling in painting or sculpting in your free time outside of work. 

Meet the love of your life 

Be apart of your community - take opportunities that involve helping your neighbors/fellow townies

Pamper yourself -  go to a place in town for some you time once a week

Learn a new skill once a week (you don’t have to master it) 

If applicable, befriend your grandchildren 

Optional: turn your hobby into your job 

Thank you for playing. Feedback is welcomed