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kilojulietsierra · 4 years ago

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Seis Dias - Prologue & Chapter One (Frankie Morales x OFC - Triple Frontier meets Six Days Seven Nights)

I watched Triple Frontier and Six Days Seven Nights in the same day awhile ago and... this happened over the weekend lol

It was a lot of fun to write and I hope y'all enjoy it too!

Notes - my Spanish is a work in progress, if there are any mistakes they are mine. Rating is lower than usual for me (T - on Ao3) but I have an idea for a bonus chapter at the end that would bump that up. Canon typical violence and language.

~~~~~ Summary~~~~~

A well known photographer on vacation with her new fiance just got called in on a once in a lifetime, last minute job for one of her biggest customers. Promising her fiance that it'll be a quick 2-3 day trip from the south american resort they're staying at to the job and back. With an overnight bag, her camera and a bribe for the... quirky pilot that flew them to the remote vacation spot, she takes off to the shoot.

A storm rolls in while they're in the air and the quick trip takes a dangerous turn.

Forced to land in the middle of the night when lightning strikes their plane the pair find themselves in the middle of the South American jungle with a wrecked plane and no way to get help and no way out of the jungle but to work together.

They survived the crash but that's the least of their concerns, the jungle has more than one danger lurking in its shadows.

~~~~~~ Prologue`~~~~~

Joanna was grateful to be out of the slush and snow but her annoyance with the February weather soon turned to annoyance towards the crowd of people in the lobby which she had found her shelter in. She shoved and excused her way through the frigid New Yorkers to the front desk, "Hi, I'm here for an appointment with," She was cut off by someone knocking into her camera bag, causing her to sway on her feet and clutch at the strap to keep it from slipping, "Excuse you. Anyway, Robin Monroe? Can you let her know I'm here"

"Floor seven, elevator bank is to your right." The receptionist had no clue that Jo had been here a dozen times already this month. She only glanced up to point to the general direction of the elevators as she reached for the phone receiver.

"Thank you." Joanna squeezed through the gap in the crowd and made a beeline for an elevator just opening. Her and the other elevator riders stood in silence, slowly filtering on and off as the floor numbers climbed. At the seventh floor Joanna took her leave and soon heaved in a deep breath at the wonderfully empty foyer of Ms. Monroe's publication office.

Making her way through the desks and design tables Joanna waved and greeted the familiar faces until she came face to face with a photo shoot set up in complete chaos. Backdrops set in disarray, layout mock ups scattered on the floor, makeup and hair assistants scurrying back and forth and in the center of it all Robin trying to direct the melee. "So... how's your day going so far?"

Monroe turned around in a snap and visibly sagged "Oh Joanna, you'll never believe!" She fell into the long and winding story of how the talent for this particular shoot had fell through and now everything, absolutely everything, was a disaster.

Joanna took a deep breath, situated her camera bag on her shoulder and pulled out her phone to shoot her boyfriend a quick text that she would probably be late getting home tonight.

Later when everything had calmed down and the shoot was completed, a success as far as Jo was concerned, Robin walked her to the foyer where one of the assistants met them with a huge bouquet of flowers. "These came awhile ago for Jo." The young girl informed them, giddy to see what the card said. "They're from Kyle," She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet while Robin inspected the exotic flower arrangement.

Jo read aloud, "A surprise after a long day, love you, Kyle." She flipped the note over to find a reservation card for one of her favorite restaurants.

~~~

"Fancy flowers, fancy restaurant, what's going on?" Joanna teased as the hostess guided them to their table.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Don't ask questions, it'll ruin the surprise."

Kyle was a handsome young man, tall and lean, blonde close cropped and perfectly styled hair, bright blue eyes and a worked as a shockingly successful stock trader for someone his age. He and Joanna made a striking couple and they both knew it. Especially Kyle.

Once they were seated and had placed their drink orders Jo pressed again, "Ok, you know I'm not a patient woman Kyle. What's up."

"Okay fine," he chuckled as he reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket, "Close your eyes."

Jo balked slightly but at his insistent stare, did as he asked. When she was finally allowed to open them she gasped.

"Two weeks from now, you, me and six days, seven nights in paradise." Kyle swiped through pictures of an out of this world, boutique, trendy, South American beach resort."

"Oh my God." She watched as he swiped through the promotional photos; lit, edited and laid out in such a way that she could nearly feel the sand under her toes and the sun on her skin. When he put his phone away she turned to face him, "Kyle, you're not serious! That looks amazing! Are we really going?"

"We're really going. You always say you miss travelling and that I need to take more time off so... tada!" He said with pride and matter-of-factness that was his trade mark. "Are you excited baby?"

"So excited." Jo leaned in to give him a kiss and mentally begin counting the hours.

---

Day One

When they landed in Bogota Joanna swore that she felt a weight lift and her mind clear. All she could think of was being able to enjoy herself, truly, for the first time in a long time. She reached out and grabbed Kyle by the back of his shirt, "Wrong way." As he turned outside the terminal towards security and away from where they needed to go, to collect their luggage and then towards the charters.

"What?"

"Seguridad." she laughed and pointed at the sign he was about to walk under, "We want maletas, and then we have to find the charters, she pointed in the opposite direction. "This way."

Without saying anything he trailed along as she led the way, following the signs, correctly this time. Eventually they found themselves walking thorough the doors and onto a paved tarmac where two men where leaning against a small plane chatting and laughing.

"Disculpe me,"

Jo approached them and Kyle muttered under his breath."I always forget you can actually speak Spanish."

Joanna ignored him. The two men by the plane glanced up as Joanna continued, "Ayudame, por favor? Estamos buscando por..." she paused to pull up the name of the charter service, "Aire Tropical?"

The two men stood up a little straighter, the taller, scruffier of the two cocked his head as he looked her and Kyle over. "Well you found it." He said in a very American accent. He was tall and broad, his arms bulged slightly through the sleeves of his button down shirt. His jeans were faded and worn, so were the cowboy boots on his feet and the Standard Oil cap on his head. He slapped the other man on the back and then stepped up to Kyle and Joanna. "Franciso Morales." He extended his hand to Kyle and then Joanna, "Mucho gusto."

"Mucho gusto," She offered a small smile and was glad to see it returned.

"So you're the pilot?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

Franciso pulled his worn out cap off his head, ran his hand through his shaggy hair and placed it down again, "Umm, yeah."

"And you're American?"

The other man scoffed, short and silent, "Yeah, for the most part anyway. If you're ready to go, I am." He glanced over his shoulder to the plane.

"Great," Kyle interjected before Jo got the chance, "Could you grab the bags?"

Franciso looked to Kyle, his head cocking to the side again as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of gum.

Joanna cringed, worried Kyle had offended their only ride to paradise.

His eyes jumped from Kyle to Jo and then back. When he smirked it was not in the pleasant friendly way it had been when they shook hands. "You bet."

After the pilot, Francisco, had grabbed their bags and took them to the plane Kyle pulled her aside. "I'm not sure how I feel about this hillbilly flying us anywhere."

Jo smacked his chest with the back of her hand, "Kyle." She glanced towards the pilot to see if he had heard, "He works for the resort. It's fine."

A shrill whistle interrupted them. "Angelica, vamanos!"

A leggy woman with perky breasts and a big smile came bouncing out of the charter hangar. 'Coming!" She giggled as she joined their little group, "Hello!" Her accent was thick and not from South America but Jo couldn't place it. "You must be the couple coming to the resort. I'm Angelica, I work their and I promise you are going to love it!"

For a brief moment Jo doubted that was true, but beside her Kyle was nodding enthusiastically.

~~~

The flight went perfectly well and Jo couldn't stop leaning to look out the small window at the jungle as it passed by beneath them in a blur of green and random villages on their way to the remote section of coast where the resort resided. At some point Francisco must have noticed her excessive staring, "Este es la tierra de los dios, no?'

Jo glanced back at him, seeing him watching her over the rims of his dark aviators and under the bill of his cap. She couldn't help but smile, "Verdad. Es... es increible. No tengo los palabras."

Francisco nodded. "Verdad." He smiled and turned back to the windscreen. everyone remained silent the rest of the flight.

~~~

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." It was all Joanna could say upon setting eyes on the bungalow that would be theirs for the next week. The beach under her feet, the sea in front of her, jungle behind her and a bright blue sky above her. She was in paradise. Truly.

"I know right." Kyle dropped the bags by the door and joined her outside. "It's perfect." He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned back into him. "This is perfect."

~~~

The first thing Joanna did was put on her bikini and a pair of shorts, grabbed her camera, and headed for the beach. For a change it wasn't model wannabes, actor hopefuls, suburban families or Instagram influencers in front of her lens. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken pictures just for the enjoyment of it. It was the most amazing feeling. Without even thinking about it she spent the whole afternoon wandering the beach and the resort snapping pictures. The ocean, the jungle, the mountains, young couples playing in the surf and lovers cuddled in the shade.

Joanna hadn't realized how late it was until she came back to the bungalow to find Kyle dressed for dinner in pastel shorts and a linen shirt. "Was beginning to wonder if you got lost or something. Got out of the shouer and you were gone."

"Sorry." She shrugged out of her camera strap, "Wanna see what I found?" Jo clicked some buttons on her camera and turned it so Kyle could see the screen.

"I made reservations at the restaurant for us tonight. Why don't you go get ready."

~~~

Dinner had been amazing and when the restaurant served drinks and desert a band had started playing. Couples all around them were attempting their best Tangos or Cumbias but Joanna was worried about Kyle. He had been off ever since Bogota and she worried her wandering off hadn't helped matters.

Just when she was about to ask him he took a sip of his cocktail and cleared his throat. "Joanna." He leaned forward, "Do you know what tonight is?" He took her blank stare as a no, "This is our anniversary. Well unofficially at least, it's the anniversary of the day we first met. Three years ago."

Realization hit her, "Oh, the cab! We fought over a cab and I called you an asshole." She chuckled.

"It's okay, it was worth it. All part of the journey." He stared at her, clear blue eyes glinting in the candles and tiki torches.

Joanna smiled, unsure of what to say. Instead she just stared at his handsome face. Then out of nowhere he was kneeling in front of her, staring at her, his hand reaching into his pocket as the diners around them all collectively began to notice, and look their way.

"Joanna..." He looked as if he was considering his words carefully, hoping to be long and eloquent but found nothing, "Will you marry me?"

Awestruck Jo blinked at him, heart in her throat and forgetting to breath. Now she was the one at a loss for words. So, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him while the rest of the diners applauded and cheered.

---

Chapter Two/Day Two - Read Here!

#frankie morales #francisco morales #catfish #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier #pedro pascal

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damienthepious · 5 years ago

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gee, elle! how many fics can you publish in one emotional roller coaster of a lizard kissin’ tuesday!? three apparently. apparently three.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 4)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [ao3] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: Sir Damien endures a sleepless night. Sleepless for him, at least.

It has, Damien thinks, been hours. The monster has not awakened, has not even shifted or shivered or growled in his sleep, has not given any indication whatsoever that it intends to wake ever again, let alone anytime soon.

Damien’s shoulders have been sagging, slowly, as the night slips past him. His bow is settled on his lap with his hand still upon the wood, not in a lack of caution but in the confidence that he can draw as needed if the creature springs suddenly from the sheets.

His vigilance has not waned with the hours; he will destroy this creature. Whether that be at the very moment that it attacks, or when he at last convinces Rilla of her gentle folly, this monster will fall as the rest of his ilk have fallen to Sir Damien’s righteous arrows.

It would certainly be easier if the creature would simply get on with it, though.

Patience has rewards, though. Damien knows this well. Patience, patience, enough time allowed to pass with grace and tranquility and eventually-

Damien tenses as the monster makes a noise, his face contorting in pain as he shifts on the bed, and as he rouses by slow seconds to consciousness properly Damien stills, keeping a hand dutifully, carefully on his bow.

“K-Keep,” the monster groans, one clawed hand flexing and grasping at the sheets, his voice cracked and bitter and very, very weak. “Keep, I…” he drifts off, muttering something incomprehensible, and then his eyes squeeze more tightly shut for a moment. He tenses against the bed, his claws digging further into the fabric of the blankets as he blinks blearily in the dimness of the room. “No,” he hisses, just as weak. “No, no I am… I am not… I am… Amaryllis. Amaryllis, where-”

Those eyes-

Violet eyes settle upon Damien through the low light, and then the monster shrinks back into the bed, wary and betrayed and visibly furious.

“A knight,” he mutters, the slurring of sedative still slick on his tongue. “Of course. Should have expected- of course she did not mean- of course it was a lie-”

“Do not dare imply that Rilla is a liar, monster,” Damien says automatically, his eyes narrowing. He- he had not expected the creature to speak. Or- Rilla had mentioned complaints, Damien had simply not comprehended that it would mean-

“I will imply only what is true,” the monster says, and then he gasps, turning his head away to cringe and freeze against some pain, and he pants out an uncomfortable breath before he continues. “Do not p-pretend as if you are here for any reason but to kill me, knight. And that being the case, that would make the word of the doctor false. Which is exactly what I expected in the first place. A human- she was never going to prioritize my health, n-never going to protect me against her own ilk. Never.” He scoffs, his voice gone ragged and strange and his clawed hands flexing and pushing automatically against the blankets, though he seems too weak to attempt to rise. “I should never have been foolish enough to believe- no. I did not trust her. I was right not to. A lie. Of course, a lie, of course I… I knew that she…”

Damien is- torn.

Because he is going to kill this lizard. He must- it is his duty, his holy charge to protect others, his sworn pact to his Citadel, to serve his Queen and to serve the subjects of her land, and that duty means that he must destroy this beast. No matter how distasteful his Rilla finds the work, Damien knows what is expected. He knows what he must do, even if he will honor his forever-flower’s wishes until the dawn, at least.

But this monster is wrong. He is deeply wrong about Rilla’s part in this. She has not betrayed- she would never. Not even a monster, his brilliant perfect flower would never harm, would never break the bond of her word. This monster is not owed that knowledge of his fiance, but it twists like acid in his stomach, the idea of this monster feeling such unjustified betrayal towards his Amaryllis. It is- unconscionable. He cannot stand for it- can he?

“You are incorrect, demon,” Damien says, eventually, his mouth dry with discomfort. “She has indeed deigned to protect you, unworthy though you are of such mercy. The generosity of her heart is beyond measure, oh precious flower, and it extends far beyond those who are deserving of it. I have not slain you where you lay merely out of respect for her desires.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the polished wood of his bow. “But do not misunderstand. The very instant that your intentions are revealed, I fully intend to pierce you through the heart. I know, foul beast, that you cannot be trusted, and in the exact same breath during which you break the faith of my beloved you shall fall, and it shall be by my arrows. You will not get away with whatever scheme you intend to enact. Mark me, villain, I will not sit idly- I will not- I- foul creature, are you even listening to me?”

He is not.

The monster has fallen back to unconsciousness somewhere among Damien’s threats, his expression soft and exhausted and slack, one of his clawed hands caught in the blankets above him, in the middle of the act of pushing them away. Damien can see more of the beast’s upper body, now- or he would be able to, were it not nearly entirely covered in bandages, at least one of which Damien can see is speckling red from beneath. The monster trembles lightly in his sleep, perhaps shivering, or responding to further pain.

Damien fidgets where he sits.

A convincing display, certainly.

… but the blood, he is not faking that. He couldn’t be. Rilla would never be fooled by a false injury, never, no matter how clever the foe. Her skill is unsurpassed, and she would know whether or not a wound were true, and her hands had been upon the beast when Damien first arrived, performing some mysterious and delicate surgery, it had appeared- perhaps the monsters would be cruel enough to harm one of their own in a bid to insinuate themselves into the home of the Citadel’s finest physician? Perhaps-

Damien has fought countless monsters, in his time. He has killed many, his record matched only by that of his rival. He does not believe he has ever seen one sleep, before. He has seen them unconscious, he has seen them dead. He has never seen one simply… sleep. Gentle, restful.

The monster is still trembling. Damien is more confident, now, that he must be cold. There is something about the way that he is laying that suggests that he would rather be curled up were so much of his body not damaged and wrapped- or perhaps that is merely an assumption of Damien’s mind, considering the beast’s obviously reptilian bent. His breathing seems shallow- but of course, Damien does not know the pace at which this monster typically breathes. Compared to the helpless fury in his eyes in the brief moments of his awakening, his entire expression seems- soft, now. He looks vulnerable- he is vulnerable. Damien could destroy him in an instant, a single arrow would do the deed with barely a breath of effort, but-

Damien will not act as a monster would. No- of course not. Killing an innoc- no. Killing a helpless creature in his sleep; he will not be so cruel as that. He will not take that particular page of strategy from the book of his enemies.

And of course, he is simply giving his Rilla time to reconcile with what must be done. Of course. It is only… a delay. A stay of execution.

That thought makes Damien wince. He is unsure why, precisely.

Damien flinches for a more ordinary reason as a noise from the bed summons his attention. The monster exhales unevenly, some small whispering noises slipping from him as his brow furrows in unconscious distress, and his shaking, his trembling, it is growing more pronounced.

Damien stands, uncertainly, and shoots a look towards the door, towards where Rilla is currently sleeping. Is this- should he? Should he summon her from sleep to settle whatever new distress this is? Or- or would it be better if Damien simply… waited?

If the monster simply fails to survive the night… well, Damien’s conflict might very well solve itself.

The monster-

Whimpers. There is no other word for it. An utterly pathetic noise, and the creature’s claw twitches against the blankets, another shiver buzzing through him, and Damien-

Damien takes a hesitant step forward. His bow is still tightly gripped in one hand, of course, and Damien can draw in the space of half a heartbeat. If this be some trick, he will not hesitate to do his duty. The monster still appears unaware, though. He does not respond to Damien’s movement at all, though he continues breathing sharply, shaking lightly, giving small hissing gasps between his jagged teeth.

Damien steps closer. The monster fails to attack. Another step, and another, and Damien’s grip on his bow does not loosen, but still the monster merely sleeps and trembles, merely sleeps and whines.

Damien is beside the cot, and the monster is asleep. Unhappily so, but very clearly asleep. And Damien is sure, now, that at least part of the distress is from cold- the monster had pushed his layers of blankets away during his moment of wakefulness, and now he is shivering, uncomfortable enough to disturb his rest but not enough to break the heavy bonds of slumber quite yet.

Damien lifts the a hand (the one not clutched around his bow, of course), and-

He does nothing, for a long moment. He stands like a fool with his hand hovering in the air between them, and the monster does not do anything, because the monster is asleep. Or- the monster does not do anything besides shiver, at the very least.

He lowers his hand, just until it touches the edge of the covers. Still there is no movement, though now Damien can feel the vague gentle heat of his scales, close by the tips of his fingers. Not touching, not quite touching skin to scale.

Damien frowns at himself, grips the corner of the fabric, and lifts, tugging the blankets up to rest more effectively around the monster’s shoulders.

The beast settles, after a moment. The shivering subsides, the unhappy lines furrowing his brow easing, and the monster slips deeper into sleep.

Damien finds that his heart is racing. Foolishness. He- it was merely a test. A simple little attempt to draw out the violence that surely waits in this creature. Just because the monster failed to leap upon him now does not mean that he will not when he is given another chance.

Damien stumbles backward, keeping his eyes on the monster’s sleeping form until he finds the stool by the door again, and then he resumes his perch.

If this monster intends to be patient with whatever his scheme is, Damien can certainly be patient as well.

The monster wakes again, perhaps an hour later. It glares at him with violet eyes, huddling closer among the blankets, but when Damien has barely opened his mouth again to inform him of his precarious position, of his fast-encroaching end, the monster… falls immediately back into slumber.

Infuriating. Infuriating creature.

When the light around the curtains grows grey and gentle with approaching dawn, the creature wakes a third time.

“Still here, are you?” he mutters, eyes barely open, tone lazy and light. “Hours, it must have been. Are you… enjoying your little perch, knight?”

“I can hardly leave you to your own devices, beast. You cannot be trusted, not here where you may perform any cruelty upon my- Saints damn you,” Damien barks as the creature closes his eyes again. “I am speaking to you, creature!”

“Hm?” The monster blinks, refocusing on Damien after a confused moment. “Ah.. what- what?”

“I am speaking to you, you cur. Do not ignore me. Do not- do not drift off into the undeserved peace of slumber!”

The monster narrows his eyes, lip curling uncomfortably as he stares Damien down with those vicious and vivid eyes. "Perhaps I would not be so lulled if your threats were not so tiresome, little human." His eyes slip back closed, and Damien finds that he is both relieved and disappointed, for that violet glare to be pulled from him. "You sound always as if you intend to burst into song; I do not know why you are surprised that I feel lullabied. Are you certain that you are a knight?" He is sneering, though his voice is sleepy-soft, and his eyes are still closed. "I would sooner suppose you a songbird."

"I would shudder to hear the sorts of lullabies a monster would sing," Damien breathes, uncomfortable, and the monster's lip pulls tight for a moment, some strange new pain crossing his face. "They must comprise of some truly horrific melodies, to be certain."

"Mmm," the monster grumbles, pressing his face into the pillow and sighing. "Go on. Keep lilting, little songbird, and I shall slip away again in just a moment."

Damien freezes, and then he flushes dark and scowls. "Nothing I say is for your benefit, you foul thing," he snaps. "How dare you- how dare you insinuate-"

The monster slits one violet eye back open, something like a smirk curling his inhuman mouth. "Precisely like that, little songbird. Trill, trill away, with all your feathers ruffled. Quite an amusing picture you paint, driven to distress like this-"

"I am no songbird," Damien half-shouts, and then he shoots a worried glance toward the door and repeats himself more quietly. "I am not. I may sing, monster, but I will certainly not perform so for you. And my songs are not the formless meaningless cries of chaotic nature, either, beast. I weave words, not notes. I am a poet. Were I to sing, you would certainly know it."

The monster’s eyes have slipped entirely closed again, and Damien can see that his breathing is evening out, though his smirk stays in place as he murmurs, “Poet… little poet-knight… delicate as… honeysuckle, I think…”

“Stop that. I will not entertain such casual address by a villain such as you. Cease your- your false flattery, you- you-” Damien cuts off again, staring at the creature. “You’ve… you’ve fallen asleep again, haven’t you?”

The monster does not answer.

“These tricks will not serve you in the end, of that I assure you. By Saint Damien above I say that I will not soften. I will not yield. I will not.”

The monster does not answer.

Damien glares, fidgeting in place for a long moment, frustration bubbling over. “Songbird,” he scoffs. “Pfft. Nonsense, such utter…”

The monster breathes slow and even, his strange expression softened yet again in sleep, and Damien does not like what it implies, that he is already becoming so familiar with the curves and edges of this scaled face.

Damien hears Rilla wake. The hut is quite small, and he has been sitting in silent stillness for long enough that the light creaking of her floorboards and the rustle and mumblings from her room rouse his attention rather quickly. He hears her move, hears the bedroom door open and her light footsteps pad into the front room.

He hears her go still.

She curses, sharp and panicked and then her footsteps come again, much faster, and the door to the exam room flies open to show his fiance with her hair mussed from sleep and her expression utterly terrified as her eyes sweep the room, her mouth already open.

“Damien- Damien you didn’t-”

She pauses as she sees the monster, still sleeping, and then when her eyes fall on Damien himself, perched upon his stool.

“I didn’t,” Damien agrees, perhaps a little bitterly.

She stares at him, her hand at her throat, her breaths slowing as her alarm subsides, and then the corner of her mouth tilts up into a hesitant sort of smile.

“Th… thank you, Damien,” she says, quietly. “I know this is… I know. Would you- wait in the kitchen, while I look him over?” She pauses, and Damien stands, his eyes sharp on the monster’s slow-breathing form, his hand still curved around the grip of his bow. “Please?”

Damien knows, still, what must happen. Damien knows that his arrow is destined for this creature’s heart. He knows, with a certainty so sharp it could cut him, that there is only one way this endeavor can end.

Rilla looks at him with such terrible softness, and the monster breathes slow and even nearby, and Damien nods, and stands, and walks stiffly from the room.

There is only one way this can end. So it is only a small matter, if that end is put off for just a little while longer.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #scattered on my shore

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micrathene-w · 6 years ago

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My Second Sims 4 Household

Just going to say Right Up Front that if you're anti-LGBTQA, this family of Sims is not going to be your cup of tea, and you needn’t look under the cut.

For those of you remaining, this main fellas of this household are also fandom inspired. I'm not naming any names in this post; not sure if anyone who sees this will get who the inspiration was or not but... I ship it, okay? ;D

First of all, meet G. G has the Bodybuilder aspiration. He's a Bro, he's Cheerful, and he's a Goofball. I moved him into the Agave Abode in Oasis Springs, had him collect some of the more valuable fruits & flowers from there and Willow Creek to earn Simoleons gardening while he wasn't hanging out at the gym.

Then I moved B into the humble little Nookstone house I had just moved my first sim, Aislinn, out of. B's characterization is never very clear in his original canon, so I went with my headcanon-y version. He aspires to be a Renaissance Sim; he is Good, and a Geek, and a Genius. (He also started out looking very much like a little twink, didn't he?) He’s maxed out his Programming skill and earns royalties from video games and apps he’s created.

It took a frustratingly long time of me running around with one or the other of them, but eventually they met. They became friends. They stated, cautiously, to flirt a little. (Along the way, B stopped being *quite* so twink-looking because he spent half his time at the gym mooning after G.)

Once they realized the attraction was mutual, the caution part? Kind of went out the window. Increasingly "steamy encounters" and ye olde "woohoo" followed pretty quick. B was the one to propose to G (so it's just as well he'd put on some muscle so he didn't drop the big guy when he swept him off his feet).

(...that moment when you realize your former-twink fiance can dip you now!)

They eloped and exchanged their vows immediately because the player was Not Yet Ready to tackle a wedding event lol. B moved into Agave Abode with his new spouse and left sad little Nookstone empty again. For a while. (But that's another story.)

Now somewhere during the course of all this, I was learning about Sims mods. Not just custom content to make my Sims look better (see B’s hair, above), but things that could make the game more realistic... and okay, in some ways less realistic, too. I downloaded MC Command Center and its companion mod, MC Woohoo. Among the many other things they allow you to customize in your Sims experience, the MC mods let you set a percentage chance that regular old woohoo might result in an “increasing” Sim, rather than just the deliberate choice to Try For Baby - that part was more relevant to my first sim.

What applied to these two, was the option to allow same-sex Sims to have their own children rather than adopt (or jump through hoops and maybe mess up their relationship to do a surrogacy, which had been my original plan). And also applicable, as it turned out, was the Autonomous Woohoo option.

Yup, MC Woohoo gives your Sims the chance to decide to toddle off to the bedroom even when you haven't made the choice to send them there. And these two, I swear, have used and abused that function more than any other Sim of mine. I would take my eyes off the screen for just a moment or two to answer a friend on Discord and their flirty banter would turn into a dash for the bedroom. I did not activate the "Autonomous Try For Baby" - but as it turned out, I didn't need to, for this pair.

It actually did catch me by surprise when G turned up in the background while I was playing my first Sim Aislinn... looking like this.

I changed households to them so fast I think it gave my computer whiplash and - yup. Baby on the way for the boys. I got over my nervousness about building and added both a second floor and a basement for G's exercise equipment to the Abode. G was a trooper about the whole thing, and in the usual 3 days' Sims-time off he went to the hospital and came home with their little son O.

They both made much fuss over their baby and - when he aged up - their toddler.

Of course, once O got moved into his own room and would sleep through the night, the guys went back to their very flirty (and frequently autonomous) ways. I would mostly roll my eyes and figure out who had initiated what that time by which of them had the option to take a pregnancy test after. I didn't bother, because what were the odds of that happening again so soon? I think I had the risk factor set at all of 5%. And it came to nothing until just after O had maxed out his toddler stats and aged up into a child; the guys did what the guys do so often... but when I sent B to the bathroom after (he was, in the words of a popular Sims YouTuber, “desperate for a wee”) - in addition to the pregnancy test option, was a button for "Throw Up."

Imagine me face-palming here.

As I told the friend on Discord, at least they took turns? 3 far more morning-sickness laden days later, second son R joined the family. Angel child O was not happy at first, but once his little brother aged up into a toddler Charmer instead of a tiny scream factory they got along much better.

Except G & B didn't even wait until R was ready to exit toddlerhood before G had a third one on the way. Baby sister C is going to be their last for now; I have switched the same-sex babies option off until further notice because these two... these two are as bad as rabbits. They would overrun Oasis Springs if I let them. My dudes, I love you dearly but this IS NOT the hundred-baby challenge okay?!

#Sims4 #Sims 4 #once again cut for length #and a ridiculous number of pictures

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