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#SAPPINESS ABOUNDS
gontagokuhara · 1 month
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teary rambling inbound
christ alive its not often i reckon with the fact that jump (the first fic of my “modern” writing era) is approaching seven (7!!!!!) years old. when i do think about it it’s often in a nostalgic way or a half-proud, half-self-deprecating way where i’m like “this was my peak when i was 17, god DAMN have i improved” because as much love as i hold for it and what it ended up as, it’s still nowhere near perfect! there’s so much i would do differently with my slightly more developed brain!!
but i get comments still on a more or less weekly basis almost 7 years after publishing, over 6 years since i last touched it. little ‘i just read this in one sitting!’ and ‘this brought me back into enjoying deh again’ and ‘i usually get bored during long fics but i wanted to finish this!’ that i have saved in their own special portion of my inbox specifically for jump comments because they all make my day every single time.
and then sometimes i get comments like these, all these years later, and i pump the breaks and just think.
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unless i’m particularly out of touch this is like. the type of comments fic writers dream of. thoughtful, personal, crafted with a level of care that highlights how genuinely an author (even of just ‘silly’ musical fanfic) can move a person.
someone who never writes reviews was compelled to detail how deeply they’ve been impacted by *my* writing. something i crafted as a labor of love while i was still a teenager struggling through that same shit i was writing about had enough of a positive effect on someone that it spurred them to put as much into writing themselves, unsure if i’d ever even see it. this person walked away from something i created with the exact takeaways i hoped they would, and i very sincerely hope that whatever realizations this person had while reading, they take them and make their lives better because there’s nothing more i could possibly ask for.
jump, as much as a bit of an ugly duckling i think of it as sometimes, is like…a net good on the world. so many of my current best friends i met because i wrote jump. more than one person has embraced recovery and getting better and stepping into the sun (hah!), and that’s just people who have told me that — some of the mostly deeply influential fics in my life are ones i’ve never commented on myself. more people than i can ever hope to comprehend have had their day, week, month, life outlook altered in a positive way by something i created — by me.
in a period of life (not just my own, but more broadly speaking How Life Is in the present day, 2024) where things are pretty shitty and i’m agonizing more than ever over feeling useless and impactless and like i’ll never create anything of true value. sometimes i wake up to comments like these, and i slow my roll, and i can…genuinely appreciate that at the very least, despite everything else sucking pretty bad, people have made their own happiness through something i’ve created. i’ve made something of value, and even if i never know the impacts of that…those people are out there. if i could do it at 17 years, and still hear the positive influence of doing so 7 years later, i can do it again. i want to do it again. writing is making my happiness, and knowing that that could be true of other people makes it a happiness worth pursuing.
all of that to say: thank you, if you’ve ever read my silly stories before. if they’ve done something positive in your life, even for just a second, that means more to me than anything. and especially thank you to my more vocal readers because quite literally it’s people like the above comment, and people who i’m sure are reading this and know exactly who they are, who make me love writing as much as i do and make me want to do it forever, no matter the capacity.
i suppose i should wrap up now before my weepiness makes everyones tl all damp. thank you again, persephonescurse (even if you’ll never see this). your comment now also forever lives in the original jump discord server from 2017, so i won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. thank you.
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dollsome-does-tumblr · 3 months
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Roman/Gerri; 1,700 words; post-series. Roman and Gerri cross paths again at a New Year's Eve party.
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morgana-ren · 7 months
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i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)
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First part of the story HERE
Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!
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"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"
He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--
"My love, I just need you to--"
"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."
"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"
"My lord?"
Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.
She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.
"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"
Her blood smells of rot and she--
She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.
"I won't!"
Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—
—his soul?
The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--
And suddenly he is in a chair.
Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.
"What in the hells—"
His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.
"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"
The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.
"I-- What was that?"
He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.
"No-- No, that cannot be it!"
"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."
He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.
"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"
"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"
"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"
Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.
"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"
"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."
He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.
"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"
She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"
But the woman simply shakes her head.
"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."
His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.
"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."
"And what of what she feels?"
His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.
"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"
"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"
"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"
"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."
They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.
"I-- I need to know she will be safe."
Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."
He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."
"Then you may yet see this through."
He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--
"The coin first, boy."
He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.
"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."
"Me too, Little Star."
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He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.
"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.
"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.
"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.
"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.
"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.
He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.
"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.
Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--
She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"
She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--
And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.
"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"
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"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.
"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.
"And?"
"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."
"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."
"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"
"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."
"And what do you think?"
"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."
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atinylittlepain · 1 year
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Big Fan - Part Two
Joel Miller x actress!reader
joel miller masterlist
Joel is smitten. But he's having a hard time figuring out when she's being real and when she's just acting.
warnings | 18+ lil angst, mostly fluff, fun times abound
a/n | this is a continuation of a request that I was not expecting so many people to like lol, read the first part here!
........................
“Real or fake?”
“Oh, definitely fake. I still don’t think I know how to hold a gun right. Those were all just plasticky props.” Joel laughs with a shake of his head as she shrugs. They’re sitting in the spot they usually find themselves in as the sun starts to turn syrupy over the mountains, Joel’s arm draped across the back of the bench seat on her porch with her ever so slightly leaning into his side. By the time he says goodnight to her, he knows she’ll be melted right under his arm, pressed fully into his side, since that’s how these nights tend to unravel. 
It’s been entirely too sweet, all this time he’s been spending with her. They’ll talk for hours, well into the night, but not without a few interruptions. Word had spread fast around Jackson about the pre-apocalyptic starlet, and Ellie was right, it wasn’t just Joel who had been a big fan of hers before. It was typically women, recognizing her from some sappy movie he remembers Sarah liking, stopping by her porch to tell her that they loved her work and if she needed anything at all, to not hesitate to ask. Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these displays, but she always handled it with an awkward grace, giving them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like the smiles she gave to him.
The men that show up are a different story. Joel would like to do a bit more than roll his eyes at them, with the way they lean up against the railing, shooting her crooked grins and telling her how they just can’t believe there’s someone “so darn pretty” calling Jackson home. But she treats them just the same as the others that show up, a clean smile and a few polite words, a far cry from the sailor’s mouth Joel has found her to have around him. And he thought he couldn’t like her more than he already did. 
After a few of these visitors had come by, Joel had fixed her with a quirked look, asking her if she was “putting on a show for these folks.” She had shrugged with a grin, and that’s how this game they play came about of Joel asking her what was real, and what was fake.
“They didn’t have someone teaching you that?” She sighs, nudging a little closer into his side.
“Mm, no. Think they were a little more concerned with how my tits looked behind the machine gun than if I was holding it right.” Joel clears his throat, her crass language flustering him a bit, and she seems to know it, giggling lightly as she looks up at him.
“Well, you seem to be holding your own just fine. But I could, um, give you some pointers some time if you want. Check out your form.” He regrets those last words the instant they come out of his mouth while she throws her head back against his shoulder in a hard laugh. He grumbles, heat creeping up his neck as her cackling finally dies down. She sighs, craning her neck to catch his downturned gaze.
“You wanna check out my form, Joel?” He huffs as she dissolves back into laughter, leaning over her thighs with her elbows propping her up. This was also something that often happened during their time together. Joel would manage to put his foot in his mouth, looking like a “hopeless fool” as Ellie lovingly put it, and she’d start teasing him until he could barely stand it. They flirted like dumb teenagers with each other, Joel wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see that. But it never went any further than her resting her cheek against his chest in the darkening night, his arm sliding to drape over her. He knows it's silly, but he'd really like for it to go further.
She glances over her shoulder at him, sighing as her laughter finally dies down.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” She leans back into his side as he shakes his head.
“Have a hard time believing that, darlin.” He savors the effect that little name has on her, the melty smile she offers him whenever he calls her that. She smacks his knee before squeezing it lightly.
“Pfft, be nice, Miller. After all, you did have my poster in your bedroom.” She can barely get the words out behind her giggles. Joel tries to press a scowl across his face, but he dissolves too easily at her bright laughter, a defeated chuckle leaving his lips. 
“Alright, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m done now, I swear. In all seriousness, I’d appreciate that. You checking out my form. Could probably learn a thing or two from you.” She settles down into his side, the spot that Joel likes her in the most. He lets his arm slip down around her shoulder, hand brushing idly along her forearm.
“Why don’t we go out tomorrow for a little target practice? You can show me what you got, hollywood.” She snorts at that, hand squeezing his knee again.
“Sounds good, Texas. I’m game.”
“Real or fake?” She stops walking for a moment, a shy grin crinkling up her face. Joel chuckles.
“No, really?” She shrugs, picking back up the pace. They’re hiking out to a clearing Joel had used a few times to help Ellie with her target practice, a bright spring day that has them both dressed down in t-shirts, packs loosely slung over their shoulders.
“It was just a publicity stunt. Two co-stars in love. Certainly sold movie tickets, I can tell you that. But no, it was very, very fake. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand the guy.” He can’t help but laugh at her admission, shaking his head as they keep moving.
“My daughter had the biggest crush on that guy. I can remember her telling me she thought you were the luckiest lady alive to be dating him.” He lets out a long sigh. It’s been getting easier, talking about Sarah. Less of a pain and more of a relief in getting to remember her and share it with people he cares about, but a twinge still runs through his heart when he talks about her. She has been easy to talk to about it, letting him share as much or as little as he wants to, in turn telling him about her own family that she had lost, a little sister that she never got to see again. He couldn’t help being surprised at how easily they both talked with each other, coming from two completely different worlds. Though he supposes they share a whole lot more in this world they live in now.
She hums, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Yeah, her and everybody else thought that I’m pretty sure. Such a shame he was actually a total asshat.” He snorts at that, picking up his pace to walk alongside her.
“Asshat. That’s a new one. You’ll have to share that one with Ellie. Kid’s always looking to expand her, uh, vocabulary.” She grins at him, eyes crinkling up as she laughs.
“Oh, I know. I taught her “douchebag” last week.” Joel huffs as she giggles at his exasperated expression, muttering a low “was wondering where she picked that up.” 
They fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the clearing and Joel is quick to shrug off his pack and take out the old street signs he and Ellie had painted targets on, setting them up against a stand of trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she had been checking him out as he turned back around to her. But he knows better, right?
He sidles up next to her and hands her the pistol he had brought along. 
“Alright, show me how you’d normally stand.” She nods, staggering her feet slightly and cocking the gun up in one hand. Joel sighs, shaking his head as he comes up behind her.
“Almost as bad as Ellie, Jesus christ. Here–” He guides her one hand up to clasp over her other hand, bringing both his arms around her to firm up her grip with a light press of his palms. He can hear the clipped inhale she takes, can feel the stuttered rise of her shoulders from where his chest is hovering against her back. He clears his throat, leaving one more firm touch over her hands before stepping back.
“Thumb over thumb. Ain’t nobody gonna knock it out of your hands that way. And two hands are always steadier than one.” She hums in confirmation, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He nods toward the makeshift targets.
“Let’s see what kinda damage you can do, darlin.” It happens so quick, Joel can barely pick his jaw up off the ground as she turns around with a bright smile. She smoked it, hitting all three targets dead center without so much as a flinch. She saunters back over to him with a chuckle at his slack expression. 
“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She shrugs.
“What can I say? You learn early on as an actress to always hit your mark. Thanks for the tip though, definitely made it easier to stay steady.” She goes to hand him back the pistol and he clasps his hand around hers, pulling her a little closer.
“You didn’t need my help, not really.” She just shrugs, a crooked grin on her face as she looks at him. Joel huffs.
“So why exactly did you wanna do target practice with me?” She steps a little closer, bringing her hand that’s not clasped in his up to splay over his chest.
“Maybe I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, Miller. Is that so bad?” Joel sighs, shaking his head and letting go of her hand to drag his through his hair.
“Christ, you can’t just say shit like that. Not when–” Her brow is furrowed as she cuts him off.
“Not when what?” He huffs, keeping his eyes on his boots.
“Not when you don’t really mean it.” The laugh she lets out shocks him into meeting her gaze again. She shakes her head at him.
“Who says I don’t mean it?” His head is spinning at her words, at the warm look she’s giving him and he has to scrunch his eyes shut to refocus on reality. His eyes flicker back open when he feels her palm coming up to cup his jaw.
“Joel, if you don’t believe it, just ask me. I haven’t lied to you once.” At first, he’s not quite sure what she means, but when he finally gets it, he lets out a long sigh.
“Alright. Real or fake– you’ve been flirting with me.” She smiles, her fingers lightly drumming against his chest.
“Real.” 
“Real or fake– you flirt with everyone.” She scoffs, shaking her head.
“Fake, and I’m insulted too, geez.” It’s playful, but Joel is already posing his next question.
“Real or fake– you like flirting with me because you like messing with me.” She laughs at that.
“Hmm, fake. But also a little real.” His brow furrows, but she just smiles.
“Real or fake–” She cuts him off, bringing both her arms to wrap over his shoulders.
“Wait a minute. It’s my turn. I’m gonna do something, and you tell me if it’s real or fake.” Before he can ask her what she’s going to do, she’s leaning up and guiding him down with her hand at the nape of his neck, brushing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Joel’s mind goes blank, the only thing he can focus on are her eyes as she pulls back just slightly. She grins.
“Well, was that real or–” He cuts her off this time, dipping back down for a much more demanding kiss, bringing his hands to cup her face. They both pull away a bit breathless and Joel lets out a laugh, his thumb stroking the arc of her cheek.
“Real. That was very real.”
................................
taglist: @littleshadow17 @stevesdick @agent007knight @inanni
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neondiamond · 29 days
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🪷 Recently Read Fics - January & February 2024 🪷
Hiii happy 2024 everyone! January was a bit of a busy month which meant I didn’t actually have the time to put together a fic rec for the first time in two years, but I am back! I still didn’t read as much as I usually do but, these are all of the amazing fics I read over the past two months (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 🤍
🪷 Hold On I Still Need You by @enchantedlandcoffee (1k, T)
The one where Louis goes missing and Harry desperately tries to find him.
🪷 miles away from seeing you by @loveislarryislove (1k, T)
Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.
This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations
🪷 Daydream by @allwaswell16 (2k, T)
Every Thursday, Louis nods hello to her fellow regulars at Horan’s Cafe, one of whom is the woman of her dreams.
🪷 ‘cause i built a home for you by angelsueavenue (2k, NR)
Harry doesn’t believe that baths can induce labor. His alpha, though, is prepared to prove him wrong.
🪷 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13 (2k, T)
Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.
The name on his arm disagreed.
But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.
🪷 In Jest by @londonfoginacup (4k, T)
Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top.
Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.
Harry would really like to know which.
🪷 You’re Already Home by @londonfoginacup (5k, G)
It's Christmas Eve and Harry's life is normal. Then he finds someone's barred the door to his favourite hiding spot -- the old groundskeeper's cottage -- and suddenly Harry's life isn't normal anymore.
🪷 knowing you’re in love with me is the greatest gift of all by @greeneyesfriedrice (6k, T)
Harry just wants to fall back to sleep in his husband’s arms, wanting to treasure the quietness of Christmas morning before their kids wake up and realize what day it is.
That dream is short lived when there’s a small shriek of joy from downstairs.
🪷 Cold Hands & Warm Hearts by kingofthefridaynight (16k, E)
a wintery uni au, where they spend time with their friends, play in the snow, drink wine in their dorm and Harry loses at Scrabble. Also, they might have been in love all along.
🪷 Your Eyes Outshine the Town by @insightfulinsomniac (19k, E)
When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry join his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays.
Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected.
Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.
🪷 To you I can admit, I’m just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28 (28k, NR)
“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”
Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.
“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.
“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”
🪷 You’re Not My Type (still I fall) by @imogenleewriter (38k, M)
His mum is going to kill him!
Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.
She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.
But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.
Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.
He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.
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yoonrambles · 2 months
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Reunion of Two Friends
Eden!Alkaid x Reader.
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Notes: angst, one-sided pining, kinda sappy by the end, someone pls give eden Alkaid a hug pleASE.
Word count: 2.3k !
Thank you, @41lobsters and @crystalroosevelt for beta reading <3 ily guys.
Taglist: @food-lover9000 @godheimm @lovebrushed @xcerizex @nehamerchant123
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The renewed city of Eden bustled with life; new shops met their grand openings, new towers and buildings reached the sky, and the sweet smell of flowers and fresh vegetation wafted in the air. Citizens got up at the crack of dawn, finishing their daily necessities and rushing off to work by the time the sun reached its peak. Just like them all, Alkaid went out to work. After his friend, the painter across the stars, blessed him with a new world – he pledged to never let his people down; to never let her down.
Alkaid took the responsibility to be the architectural engineer of the city. He spent most of his time working around the clock, catering to the town; creating a picture that was vividly similar to the city where he felt at peace – a city he once called home.
Alkaid took initiatives to build parks, gardens, and restaurants around the town. He even designed them with careful consideration, minding the efficiency and the opinions of others. And soon enough, the once abandoned, desolate mirage of a city had turned into a place abound with life–a shelter for the desperate and destitute; a true Eden among the parched sea of sand.
As Alkaid made his way through the crowded streets of Eden, many gentlemen and ladies greeted him politely. He greeted back with his signature gentle smile, sharing brief etiquette before continuing on his own way. Whilst walking down the stone pavement, he couldn't help but recall his previous days when he was feared by all; being the Master of Eden had him sequestering himself into a mansion at the edge of Green Island, where he’d let “guests” in, and no one out. The enigmatic character he had created for himself rendered him intimidating to the other NEOS.
He took a deep breath and looked forward, pushing his thoughts to the back of his head. The past was long gone, there was no need to worry about it. After all, he had the task to lead a new generation of Eden.
Upon reaching Oasis Park Avenue, he recognised a familiar face amidst the crowd. The image of his saviour under the sweet sunlight flooded into his vision; her white cardigan stood out against the black and grey coats of the citizens, and the red frills of her skirt blew softly in the mild wind. she adjusted her black beret on top of her head when she accidentally bumped onto a gentleman next to her. Hastily exchanging apologies, she continued forward, the awkward smile and soft shade of blush still lingering on her face.
“(Name)?” Alkaid called out, catching her attention – she noticed the light crease under Alkaid’s green eyes as he welcomed her, inviting her over with a well-known sincerity. “Is that really you?”
“I didn't expect you to come back…” Alkaid said, stepping towards her.
“I came to check how my old friend was doing.” She replied with a smile, looking up to meet his gaze. “And, of course, treat myself to a cup of his fragrant tea.”
Alkaid chuckled at her words. Despite being apart for so long, the painter girl didn't change one bit. She still had that distinct sense of innocence to her which allured Alkaid in their first meeting – yet, he knew very well she was the bravest person he'd ever been acquainted with.
“That can certainly be arranged,” Alkaid replied. He stopped in his tracks when the little painter held his arm. They used to walk around town holding each other's hands when Eden was under great threat. Alkaid had struck a deal with her; a deal of romance that only lasted for 3 days, just to please his own sanity. So, in spite of his uneasiness, Alkaid welcomed the feeling. “I’ve got a humble abode with a small garden at the entrance. And I designed it myself.”
She let out a small laugh. “Alright. And is it the same design as the house you had before?”
“You'll see for yourself.” Alkaid smiled. “So, shall we be on our way?”
“I'd love to but…” she looked at Alkaid with an eyebrow raised. “Don't you have to go to work or something?”
Ah, yes. His job… Alkaid was so engrossed with the idea of being visited by his beloved that he forgot that he had a job to do.
“Oh… well, that–”
“No, no,” the girl protested. “it's fine. You can go to work. I'll check around the town and see what’s going on. I'll even bring you a few snacks!”
“Thank you, but I do not need the snacks–”
“Consider it a treat!”
Alkaid blushed at the enthusiastic nature of the girl. How could he ever resist and say no to the sweet smile she showed him everytime she proposed something. “Alright, but… will you be alright?”
“I'll be fine,” she said, already excitedly walking down the street without him. “Besides, maybe I'll take my time and visit some art galleries? Are there any museums nearby?”
Alkaid sighed. “Alright, I'll accompany you to an art museum before taking my leave.”
Oh, this energetic girl would be the end of him.
***
Alkaid entered the premise of his mansion. Through the gate, into his garden. The fresh smell of roses and lilies welcomed him forward, inviting him into his own little paradise. His day went as usual – work, lunch with colleagues, and more work … nothing out of the ordinary.
He looked up, noticing his mansion glimmering under the warm sunlight of the afternoon. Sunlight glinted on the window panes, and rebounded onto the greenery nearby – from the tall pine trees to the bushes adorned with colourful flowers, and to the vines wrapped around the trellises, leading all the way to the entrance.
Alkaid got inside his abode, went up the stairs, and followed to the end of the hallway and into his room. And with a sigh, he took off his coat, closing the door behind him. He put the coat down on the bed, and allowed himself to fall on the soft mattress.
Oh, to relax on the bed after long a day of work – a satisfaction well-known by everyone. But, Alkaid couldn't stay there for long, he had his garden to attend to, as well as other things. Speaking of other things, where was his expected guest?
He hoped he didn't make her wait for too long. He dreaded the thought of her leaving; of her losing patience and going back to the stars, to her own universe – never to be seen again. She didn't forget about him ... did she?
“No, that,” Alkaid mumbled, mustering up his remaining strength to sit up on the bed. “That's not right. She would never forget about me,” Alkaid continued, running a hand through the blond locks of his hair. His words were left unanswered. And under the solemn light of the twilight, he felt even more isolated. “...right?”
***
And the evening proceeded leisurely. Alkaid tended to his garden, pruning the rose bushes to its perfect shape. He was meticulous with his moves; snipping the excess branches with utmost care. He did not mind the water droplets that hit his shirt, dampening its soft material. His mind was busy with other thoughts: especially thoughts about her. She hadn't returned yet, despite it being dark outside. Was she safe? She didn't get into trouble, did she? Alkaid hoped she was safe. He wished he could've been there with her – protecting her from the disasters of the world, just like what she had done for him.
Then a new thought bloomed as he moved around, towards the flower bed near the entrance: why did he expect her to come back? Did he still harbour the feelings he once had for her? No, that must be untrue, for the Prefect Luminary had taken away his emotions – used it as a bargaining chip, and he also took away the Master of Eden’s powers, eradicating the old Eden.
As Alkaid was about to move onto another batch of flowers, someone entered through the gate. It was her; hastily closing the gate before rushing towards the man. A bouquet in her hand.
“Sorry, I'm late, Alkaid!” She exclaimed, running over to him.
“It's alright,” Alkaid said, chuckling at her naivety. “Welcome to my garden.”
“Goodness, Alkaid, you wouldn't believe how many people I had to ask for your location,” she rambled on, without a rest to catch her breath. “I thought that-”
“Hold on. Didn't I tell you my address before leaving you at the museum?”
The painter girl fell silent after listening that. “I might've forgotten…”
Alkaid chuckled once again, shaking his head as he walked up the stairs, reaching the plateau. “Please, come inside and make yourself comfortable, (Name). I'll brew you a cup of tea.”
The girl followed him inside. Marvelling at the designs. The interior was the same as she had seen last time; the decorations, the flower embellished foyer, and the ever-so-familiar scent of flowers that reminded her of the past.
“It's the same as before…” she commented.
Alkaid smiled, acknowledging her comment, leading her towards the living room. The girl went in, and looked around the place a bit – what came to view first was the flowers decorating the furniture and sweet aroma that came with it. She took a seat on the couch. If she hadn't known better, she definitely would have commented how Alkaid’s mansion literally had the fragrance of a flower shop.
After a while, Alkaid brought her a cup of freshly brewed chamomile tea. It’s sweet aroma filled the air, and she enjoyed the tea wholeheartedly. Alkaid was surprised as she didn't hesitate this time, knowing the past ordeals they had shared, but he didn't bother saying them aloud. Instead, he only smiled and accompanied her.
His eyes then began to trail down to the bouquet she had brought with her. A quaint bouquet with freshly cut roses – white ones, to be precise. The ones he'd loved so ardently; symbolising purity and innocence – just a reminder of the person he was deep down. Along with the roses remained small forget-me-nots, standing out in the white palette of roses, painting the bouquet in small strokes of blue.
The painter girl noticed Alkaid staring at the bouquet. She put down the cup of tea on the teatable. “Oh, yeah– this is for you,” she said, handing the bouquet to Alkaid.
Alkaid took it, observing the flowers for a moment before smilling, uttering a small thank you.
If he remembered correctly, the forget-me-nots symbolise love and respect – reminding himself that the girl would never forget him; he would never get lost among her endless memories. Even though she had to travel across many worlds, make many voyages across the universe – she wouldn't dare forget him; it was an oath of remembrance.
“Thank you, (Name),” Alkaid said, smilling at the girl. “It looks amazing.”
***
After enjoying their evening tea, Alkaid proposed that they should stargaze together. And in spite of their differences, all the prototypes of Alkaid had their own fascination or connection with the stars. And the painter girl found that endearing, so she didn't refuse. Soon, they found themselves on the rooftop, looking at the stars, beyond their own little haven; over the Eden they shared.
“(Name)...” Alkaid began, “I wish you didn't need to leave.”
“Me too…” she replied, staring up at the sky dotted with stars. “I wouldn't dare leave my friend alone like this.”
Ah, yes… a friend. That's how she viewed him. Alkaid didn't mind though, she might have had other people who were interested in her, and she also reciprocated the feeling – it didn't bother him at all. Yet, why did his chest feel tight at the mere thought of another man holding her hand for eternity?
“Well, it is quite uneventful without you around,” Alkaid muttered under his breath, praying that his words never reached her ears. He didn't wish to be a bother; to be the reason for a strain in her relationship with whomever she was in love with.
“Really?” She turned to Alkaid. “I'll try to visit often, then. Just, not too often… or else, there’ll be consequences, I'm sure you understand.”
Yes, she didn't visit often and had to be cautious when travelling – it's to avoid the gaze of the Eternal Empire, lest they should try something heinous upon her as well.
“Yes, I understand,” Alkaid said, soothing himself. “But there's one thing I don't quite understand…”
“What is it?” she asked.
“... Nevermind.” Alkaid replied. His feelings for her could never be described with words. His fascination for her was something otherworldly. He would defy fate and go against the stars just to please her – and he was willing to take an oath to stay loyal to her, forever and ever.
But, he didn't want her to regret her decision. She was born a traveller, blessed with the power to cross the stars. Alkaid couldn't keep her with himself in his mansion no matter how hard he tried. So, he preferred to keep quiet.
“Let us enjoy this moment then.” she said, looking up at the sky again.
Alkaid looked at her hand. He didn't know why he thought of holding it suddenly – to interlace his fingers with hers and let the warmth of her palm flow into his. He inched his hand forwards, almost brushing his fingertips against hers. And yet, his fears held him back. He retracted his hand faster than he anticipated.
“Thank you for visiting me, (Name).” Alkaid mumbled. “I'm pleased to have you as my guest.”
And thus, they remained under the serene sky, watching the stars – thinking of a world where they could reside in peace without the barrier that was holding them apart.
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insightfulinsomniac · 3 months
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OUT NOW: Your Eyes Outshine the Town
By: InsightfulInsomniac
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Rated: E; 19k words
Summary: When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry joins his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays.
Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected.
Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.
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secret-third-thing · 6 months
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just a very silly, sappy post
Two years go, my relationship with my long-term boyfriend (A) was in shambles. I was still recovering from a horrible back injury, and I had just started a job that turned out to be rather lackluster (read: sexism abound!)
I got the sense that A and I were going to break up soon, so I scrolled through Libby and picked up this book called ACOTAR that tiktok was raving about, thinking that if I was going to be alone, I may as well start doing "alone" activities. I read the book in a day.
A broke up with me within the week. I read the entire ACOTAR series shortly after. Then TOG. (And eventually CC.) I maybe cried over A twice. I was too busy with fae men, I guess. 🤣
Now, I'm living in my favorite city with my best friend, working a job I adore. I'm writing again; I've found other new hobbies that bring me joy.
And it's wild that this fandom has been part of this healing journey. Running Eris Week was so much fun - watching so many creators come together over this JERK (affectionate) was hilarious and inspiring. He'd be SO embarrassed, and secretly flattered.
Anyway, there was really no point to this post other than just getting the good vibes out there. If no one reads this, that's fine. I'm simply ecstatic to be here and I am thankful for all the friends I have made and will make in the future.
Here's to a massively creative 2024 (and an even sluttier Eris Week 2024 🧡)! 
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thedo0zyslider · 11 months
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Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Five: Stress Reliver -4k words
Fwhip buries himself in work after the last meeting, to an unhealth extent. Jimmy gets worried and steps in. Soft moments ensue.
A03 Link
The Count kept to himself for the next few days, which wasn’t unusual normally. Fwhip was known among the manor staff to be a bit reclusive, especially when times were stressful. Though he usually emerged to eat, but the few people employed under the Count hadn’t seen him since he returned from the meeting over three days ago.  
Fwhip had locked himself in the forge for the most part, only leaving to occasionally slip into his study late at night. He’d been forming the redstone dust he had in storage into crystals, which was a lot harder than it sounded. His little crystals worked well on the smaller patches of corruption, but he was unsure how much they would affect the bigger tentacles. He could figure that out later though, when he had a steady supply of them. For now he needed to get more redstone, which he would do once the current supply was all used up. He was not putting off reasons to leave the forge and stop working, not all. 
He’d been distracting himself, he had to admit. The ginger didn’t want to think about the last meeting at all, even though he needed to process the information Scott had given them. Whenever a thought about it crept up he shoved it down, replacing it with another thought of how to kill the corruption currently threatening his citizens, and if his little redstone trick would cure Sausage. He ignored those thoughts all well, because missing Sausage hurt a lot. Fwhip didn’t want to feel hurt right now, he wanted the satisfaction of winning, of beating the demon at their own game, so there was no time for hurt, only inventing. 
By ignoring recent events he was also ignoring Jimmy, which Fwhip felt pretty bad about. They were already scarcely communicating and then he’d gone radio silent for a few days. The Codfather was pretty upset after the meeting, so it would be nice to check up on him. Yeah, it definitely would be nice too, they were kinda a thing after all. 
Fwhip sighed as he pulled out his communicator, a small break wouldn’t hurt. His last one had been two days ago, so another was probably due by now. He typed his message to Jimmy slowly, hands shaking with exhaustion.
fWhip: Hey
fWhip: You doing good? 
The half dragon stared at his screen blankly, waiting for a response. He’d finish this conversation then go back to work, no reason to pause every few minutes to reply to the Codfather when he could get it done in one go. 
His communicator dinged, shaking Fwhip out of dozing. When had he begun to fall asleep? 
Solidarity: I’m okay. How about you?
fWhip: I’m fine
fWhip: I miss you 
He huffed to himself after he sent the last message, wondering why he was being so sappy. It must have been the effects of working too long making him soft. Though the message wasn’t a lie, he did miss Jimmy quite a bit, more than he could care to admit. Fwhip rested his head on his arm, waiting for Jimmy to respond again. He’d begun to doze off again before another message was sent, but it was fine. He was just resting his eyes for a minute, he’d finish talking to Jimmy then go back to work afterwards as planned. 
Solidarity: aww, miss you too, you sap
….
Solidarity: Fwhip?
Solidarity: You there babe?
Solidarity: Your concerning me i’m coming over 
_______________________________
Jimmy was impressed he managed to slip away from his council as quickly as he did that morning. They’d been hounding him a lot lately, and he was sure it had to do with the Count he was currently on his way to see. The Council was…less than thrilled he was getting personal with someone from the Grimlands, the Cod Empire’s mortal enemy, let alone its Count of all people. Jimmy hadn’t outright confirmed anything of course, but rumors were always abound when it came to the emperors (and especially their relationship statuses,) and it was now more of an open secret that Count Fwhip was privately courting the Codfather. 
The Council had questioned him as to why he was visiting the Grimlands when he announced that he would be departing and Jimmy had told them it was to familiarize himself with the culture of their new trade partner. It wasn’t really a lie, since he was curious about it, that just wasn’t the reason for this particular visit. He’d seen some of the more scholarly council members nodding approvingly and Jimmy was able to leave without much protest after that. It was possibly the only good lie he’d ever told in his life. 
Jimmy hadn’t bothered walking anywhere, taking off with his elytra as soon as he was outside. Worry was clawing at the back of his mind. Fwhip was surprisingly good at responding to messages, so for him to not for more than five minutes was decently concerning. Best case scenario was that he was temporarily distracted, but that was unlikely, as Jimmy still hadn’t received a response. His message had been sent close to fifteen minutes ago, so it was likely Fwhip was hurt or sick. And considering recent events Jimmy wouldn’t be surprised if he’d made himself sick while tinkering with something. 
He landed in the Grimlands in record time, opening the door to Eastvale’s manor without knocking. He’d been over enough times to skip such niceties anyways.
After about ten minutes of searching the manor Jimmy was at its front door again, the worry clawing at his mind had increased tenfold. Fwhip wasn’t in his house, that became clear after the first five minutes of searching, but Jimmy had looked further just in case. He decided to check the forge next, not knowing where else the Count could be. 
Jimmy found his way to the steaming building easily, only hesitating for a moment before pushing the heavy metal door open. He knew Fwhip didn’t like people going into his work areas unauthorized, but this was a matter of the Count’s health, so he could get over it. 
It took Jimmy a moment or two to adjust to the forge. He was surprised at how dim it was, despite the massive reactor in the back corner, radiating light. It was also a fairly hot building, steam constantly pouring out of massive tubes and into the air. The heat was probably also due to said massive reactors. 
“Oh,” He muttered, taking in the scene in front of him once his eyes adjusted. 
Fwhip was sitting at some sort of table he had in here, presumably to store things he needed for the reactor, as the table was more of a desk with drawers at every corner. Jimmy assumed that's what it was for, he didn’t know what Fwhip did in the forge. Though logically he needed a place to store…whatever he put in that reactor.  It didn’t look like a very comfortable place to sit, since the desk and matching chair were made out of metal
The Count had fallen asleep at it despite that, head buried in his arms. Jimmy sighed, stepping over the mess that was apparently on the floor till he stood beside the work area. The Codfather took a glance at the desk, seeing a communicator still turned on. Just as he suspected, Fwhip had fallen asleep during their earlier exchange.
He sighed, looking at the sleeping man in front of him. He didn’t want to wake Fwhip, but he couldn’t leave him here, especially not with the very unstable looking reactor pulsing in the background. Jimmy gently touched Fwhip’s side, fully prepared to carry him back to his bedroom in the manor. 
The action jolted the ginger awake, his head snapping up in confusion. Jimmy startled, taking a surprised step backwards. “...Jimmy?” Fwhip muttered holding back a yawn as he blinked away sleep. The Count was still recovering from his sudden wake up, eyes darting around frantically as if he was unsure where he was.  “What are you doing here?” 
“I, ah, got worried.” The cod said, smiling down at Fwhip fondly. “Wanted to see you again.”
“Oh.” The half dragon responded, blinking some more. “Well I’m fine, you can go now.” He waved a gloved hand for dramatic effect. “Or stay, if you want too.” He added, as if he’d forgotten that they were no longer enemies. 
Jimmy repressed a sigh. It was clear Fwhip was overworking himself, and it wasn’t just because he fell asleep in the forge of all places. His hair was a mess, clearly going unwashed for days, and his eyes were sunken with way too many dark circles under them. That man needed rest, badly. 
“No, I’m staying.” Jimmy said. “And I’m getting you to bed.”
“What!?” Fwhip exclaimed, though his voice was so drowsy it wasn’t very effective as an exclamation of anything. “Why!?” 
“You look like death that’s why,” The cod stated it blunt, stepping forward again so he could grab hold of Fwhip’s arm. “Up you go!” He tugged the other to his feet, the half dragon letting out a yelp of surprise at Jimmy’s strength. He stumbled for a second, unbalanced by the sudden motion, before catching himself with a hand on the Codfather’s shoulder.  
Jimmy ignored the grumbles of complaint Fwhip made as they walked back to the manor, the latter practically leaning on him the whole way there. It was kinda cute seeing Fwhip so affectionate, but that was only because he was absolutely exhausted. That ruins the cuteness factor a lot, Jimmy thought as he practically dragged the Count up the stairs to his manor. He was surprisingly heavy, and Jimmy wondered if he'd have been even heavier when asleep. Probably so, but the Codfather could still lift him if he had too, though he didn't think Fwhip would appreciate being carried in full view of the public, no matter how sick he was. 
Though he did fully pick up Fwhip when the front door of the manor slammed shut behind them, figuring it would be the easiest way to transport the Count. He was not risking Fwhip stumbling up the stairs and to his bedroom on the second floor. The Count didn’t need to get a concussion in this state, or worse, crack his skull. 
Fwhip didn’t protest much to being swept off his feet or carried bridal style, only letting out a small yelp of surprise. That was concerning. Usually the ginger would have some indignant response to being treated like this, or would make some flirty, flustered remark about how strong Jimmy was. Instead he just snuggled up to the Codfather's chest, burying his face in the soft green fabric of Jimmy’s shirt, letting himself be carried up the stairs. Jimmy frowned as he managed to nudge open the door to Fwhips bedroom. That was really concerning.  
He gently laid Fwhip down in his bed, watching as the man nearly melted into his bedsheets. Jimmy frowned, noting the slight redness to the Count’s face. That wasn’t a good sign. 
The Codfather pressed a hand to Fwhip's forehead, brows furrowing when he felt heat radiating from the other’s pale skin. Shit. Jimmy almost hissed in frustration. Fwhip had worked himself into a fever. Great. He sighed, turning to rummage through any drawers in the room. If Fwhip was sane, which the Codfather wasn't sure he was, he'd have a few healing items stocked away in his bedroom or somewhere nearby. 
Fwhip did in fact have a little bit of sanity left, as a handful of healing potions and golden apples were hidden in the bottom drawer of a nightstand, along with things like bandages and disinfectant. Fwhip seemed like the type to accidentally injure himself a lot, so it was logical he'd have healing supplies so close by. For once Jimmy was grateful for how concerningly accident prone his partner could be. 
The Codfather carefully placed the items onto the top of the nightstand, casting a glance at Fwhip. He needed to be kept cool, which the scarf and coat he always wore certainly wouldn’t accomplish, especially with the humidity already present outside. He began to move a now unconscious Fwhip into a sitting position, slowly removing clothing items until the Count was left in just pants and a white undershirt. When that was done Jimmy managed to get the Count to drink the healing potion, before going to the bathroom to place a wet towel on his forehead. 
He furrowed his brows again, watching Fwhip’s chest fall up and down. Jimmy didn’t know why he was worrying over things like breathing when Fwhip had just overworked himself, but he was. He just needs to rest. Probably. Hopefully.  
He sighed for what felt like the millionth time since arriving in the Grimlands. The cod sat on the bed next to Fwhip, deciding he would stay until the other was fully healed. He should probably notify his council of that, and the few people that worked for Fwhip. He'd do it later, after Fwhip woke up. Just in case. 
________________________________
There were voices coming from somewhere, Fwhip could tell that much. He just didn't know who was speaking, or where they were. He distantly wondered how someone had gotten into the forge. He’d sworn he’d locked the door, but maybe he’d forgotten. It was possible as things seemed to be slipping his mind more and more frequently, with how focused the Count had been on his work over the past few days. 
Fwhip felt his ear twitch, straining to hear the voices through the pounding in his head. Strange, he didn’t remember having a headache. He thought one of the voices--he was only able to make out two distinct ones--was Jimmy. Why was Jimmy in the Grimlands? No, it couldn’t be Jimmy. He had an empire to run, it was probably someone else. Fwhip wondered, desperately trying to listen to what was being said to no avail. The half dragon wanted to open his eyes, but they felt heavy and immovable. 
Whoever was in the room had apparently noticed his stirring, as Fwhip felt the other side of the bed (when had he been put in a bed? ) dip with the weight of another person. The back of a hand pressed against his forehead, which made Fwhip realize something wet had been laying where the hand was now placed. The person moved to run their thumb along his cheek and Fwhip leaned into the touch, nuzzling into the gloved hand. 
The person went to run their fingers through hair soothingly, causing a low purr to rumble in Fwhip’s throat. He decided that the mystery person was indeed Jimmy, only by the soft way they were holding him. He snuggled up as close as he could, letting the hands playing his his hair slowly lull him back to sleep 
________________________________
Fwhip was warm when he woke again, so much so he wanted to fall right back asleep. 
He didn’t fall back asleep though, for the Count felt the most well rested he had in….months probably. It was time to get up and get back to work, that was the one thing on Fwhip’s mind as soon as he regained the ability to form coherent thoughts again.  Curiously there was another warmth at his side, one that wasn’t his bedsheets, a mystery that had to be solved before he could return to his redstone crystal experimentation. 
He looked around, now able to open his once heavy eyelids, only to find that the warm presence was Jimmy, sound asleep to his right. Fwhip blinked in surprise, wildly glancing around the room to the sleeping figure beside him. 
The Codfather’s head was resting on the nightstand beside the bed, a rare moment where the whole of Jimmy’s face was exposed. Sunlight from his bedroom window was landing on both of them, illuminating Jimmy’s soft yet sharp features. Normally blonde hair looked rich and golden in the afternoon light, because it was apparently afternoon now. His head was resting on Fwhip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso. He'd never noticed those small freckles lining Jimmy’s cheeks before, and maybe it was his morning brian, but those were incredibly adorable . Fwhip started to turn until he was facing the blonde, careful not to leave Jimmy’s grasp, tracing his fingers over the freckles and pressing soft kisses to them. Jimmy's arms tightened around him in response, nuzzling into Fwhip’s neck further. The Count let out a fond huff, pressing one last peck to Jimmy’s skin before starting to sit up. 
Jimmy grumbled something unintelligible as the weight in his arms shifted, brown eyes opening slowly. The Codfather stared at Fwhip for a good minute, shooting upwards as soon as he processed the ginger was now awake. The Count watched with mild curiosity as Jimmy stood, stumbling a bit. He still wasn’t sure why they were cuddling in his bedroom, or how they’d gotten there in the first place. Though he wasn’t complaining about the cuddling bit, not really. 
“How you feeling?” Jimmy asked, voice slightly slurred with sleep. The cod’s tail brushed against the floor lightly, its owner picking up a bowl of…what appeared to be soup from behind the Codfather’s head on the nightstand. Why was there soup in his bedroom? He also noticed his coat, goggles and scarf on the floor, which made Fwhip realize there were no black sleeves almost fully covering his clawed hands, and that he was in just his pants and white t-shirt. Jimmy must’ve underdressed him at some point, and undressed wasn’t really a good word to use there was it?
“I’m feeling…better” Fwhip muttered, the bowl being gently placed in his lap and Jimmy practically shoving the spoon into his hand. He made a small note to not spill any of the liquid on his covers. “That’s good.” Jimmy said, looking pointedly between him and the soup. Fwhip got the message and began to slowly eat the food, finding it slightly cold, as if the meal was a few hours old. 
“Sorry if it’s cold,” The cod apologized, noticing how Fwhip’s nose crinkled slightly at the temperature of his first spoonful. “I made it about an hour ago or so.” 
“ You made it!?” Fwhip asked in surprise, almost choking on what he could now tell was a type of cream soup. 
“Why?” Jimmy began, slightly frowning with anxiety. “Is it ba-”
“No, no, no!” Fwhip cut him off quickly, looking downwards at the bowl. Jimmy had made him soup . “I just didn’t know you could cook. The soup is really good,” He smiled.
The Codfather’s face turned red at the compliment. “Yeah, um, yeah. Lizzie taught me a few years ago--how to cook. Clara and a few other staff said they could cook you food instead, but I kinda insisted too” 
They sat in silence for a few minutes after that, a comfortable silence thankfully. Jimmy watched as Fwhip slowly finished the soup, eating it almost lovingly. He was still grappling with the fact that Jimmy had made him soup . The Count wasn’t sure why the act struck him so much, other people had cooked for him before, even Sausage with his ironically terrible culinary skills. Though he supposed no one had ever made a meal just for him and him only, when he was weak and needed to be cared for. No one insisted they specifically make him food before, not when he was sick, maybe that was why. It could also be because of his…affection for Jimmy. Maybe that was why it meant so much. 
“Hey,” Fwhip said once he was done with the meal, the bowl begging returned to its original place. “How did I even get here? In my bedroom, I mean.’” 
“Oh.” Jimmy blinked. “Well I got worried when you didn't answer your comm yesterday.” Fwhip spluttered slightly at the last part. A whole day!? He’d been down for a whole day!? If Jimmy noticed his splutter he didn’t comment on it, deciding to continue his retelling instead. “So I came over here, found you passed out in the forge from overworking yourself and um kinda…took care of you.” 
They both flushed red at the last few words, Fwhip more intensely than the Codfather, who kept talking through his flustered state. “You had a fever, so I worked on bringing it down.” Ah, so that was what the wetness on his forehead had been. 
Fwhip fiddled with the bed sheets, clutching them between his fingers a few times. “Thanks, for doing all of that.” 
“No problem.” Jimmy muttered. “Just don’t do it again.” He added sternly, and Fwhip nodded vigorously in agreement, knowing Jimmy would have his head if he did do it again, their relationship be damned. The half dragon made grabby hands a moment later, beckoning the other forward. Jimmy blinked curiously, moving closer until he was almost eye level with the ginger.  Fwhip felt around on the nightstand for a bit, finding the Codfather’s head. He placed the hat atop Jimmy’s head once more, taking care to adjust it the way Jimmy liked it. The cod man’s face was flushed a pretty scarlet when the hat was fully adjusted, Fwhip smiling up at him softly. 
Jimmy leaned in further, catching Fwhip’s lips in a sweet kiss. The Count leaned into it, butterflies suddenly fluttering widely in his stomach. It was a gentle kiss, a gloved hand coming to cup Fwhip’s cheek lovingly. They pulled away from each other at the sound of the door opening, breathing heavily from the length of the kiss. 
Clara cleared her throat as she came into view. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you two lovebirds,” She didn’t look flushed from catching them, she’d seen them do far more than a simple smooch after all. “Good morning by the way, sir.” She said, nodding at Fwhip, who just blinked back. It seemed he was still a bit out of it from all the overworking. 
Jimmy mumbled an apology, watching as Clara placed a glass of water on the nightstand, taking the dirty bowl in the process. She dipped out of the room with a curtsey, which impressed Fwhip a good bit. How she was able to do that without dropping the bowl would forever be a mystery to him, one of those Clara specific skills she possessed. She locked the door behind her. 
Jimmy waited until his employees' footsteps faded into the distance before he settled next to Fwhip in the bed again, slipping under the covers this time. Fwhip flopped backwards, leaning on Jimmy and forcing the other to curl around him. The cod buried his face in Fwhip’s hair, the stressor worrying over the Count crashing over him after two days of nonstop fretting. The half dragon sighed contently, closing his eyes as Jimmy wrapped his arms around his torso once more.
“Hey,” The Codfather muttered against russet locks. 
“Hi,” Fwhip purred, feeling himself begin to doze off again in Jimmy’s warm, comfortable embrace. 
“Did you do that, overwork yourself, because of the last meeting?” 
The count was wide awake again at those words, feeling his whole body tense and snapping his eyes open once more. Jimmy relaxed his hold on Fwhip’s midsection, allowing him an opportunity to slip away if he wanted too. Fwhip didn’t take it though, as he was trying to work up a response in his head. He eventually settled on a simple, “Yeah, yeah that’s why.” 
“Do you wanna…talk about it?” The Codfather asked hesitantly. 
The half dragon took a deep breath, steadying himself. The emotions he’d been repressing for what, a week now? Time didn’t matter, all that did was that they were flooding back through him all at once, so much it was overwhelming.  Jimmy’s grip on him tightened again, giving Fwhip an anchor as he processed. 
“I just,” He began unsteadily, trying to keep any sort of anger from his voice. “Scott- he just lied so easily about it, and I don’t know why!!” Fwhip growled, the elves' name feeling like dirt on his tongue. Not understanding Scott’s motivation for lying was driving him up the walls, as the engineer saw no logical conclusion for it. “He should’ve just told us, people would still be alive if he had! Sausa-- he’d be happy and with us right now! And then he hurt you and-” 
Jimmy’s soothing clicks cut Fwhip off as soon as tears started to prick at the corner of his eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness, rather they were from anger, frustration, the searing pain of being betrayed by someone he’d thought of as good, a friend even. 
“I’m mad at him too.” Jimmy muttered, voice breaking. “But I wanna talk to Scott about that in person. It’s kinda about our…past relations mostly.”
Fwhip nodded understandingly, letting himself relax against Jimmy once more. He didn’t really want to hear about the mess that was Jimmy and Scott’s small courtship, just watching it unfold from the sidelines had been painful enough, hearing about it was probably going to be worse.  
“He’s so getting kicked out of the Alliance,” Fwhip mumbled, sleep once again creeping into the edge of his voice. The Codfather made a click of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, pressing a comforting kiss into soft ginger hair. 
The Count allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep, Jimmy once again beginning to play with his hair. He wasn’t as tired as he had been these past few days, but a little more sleep never hurt anybody, especially when they were so deprived of it in the first place. 
He was certain Jimmy would be there again when he woke for a third time, whenever that was. Be it in a few hours or the next day Jimmy would be there, ready to help Fwhip properly get back on his feet and resume his work slowly. Scott was a problem for later, for now all Fwhip needed was this, soft recoveries with his favorite person in the world snuggled against him. 
For now, this was enough.
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miraculousbuggaboi · 8 months
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Sappy long post about the Miraculous Awakening Movie incoming (of course spoilers abound)
I’ve been watching Miraculous Ladybug since Season 1; probably halfway through S1 is when I started. I have known Ladybug since the very beginning.
I remember seeing the PV,and how many times the infamous Ladynoir rooftop moonlit scene is done over and over again. I remember being excited for Season 2, 3, 4- now I’m waiting on all of 5, the final season to come out all at once so I can see the conclusion. I remember losing my mind over Chat Blanc. I remember absolutely losing my mind, over and over, over new Miraculous holders and many false reveals, lol. It’s been a wild ride.
Whatever the ending, this movie had me so excited. It is wild to see where these kids came from and now where they are. How good they looked, the production value, the singing- it was jaw dropping. It had me running around in circles in my apartment thrilled out of my mind (Looking at you, Hawkmoth). From a series on Disney/Nickelodeon to now a whole ass movie on Netflix to this degree… it makes my heart soar.
Despite my pros and cons on the movie and despite its flaws, overall the movie felt like a love letter to the series as a whole. I loved it. ❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️
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sylleblosscm · 11 months
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@altrxisme:
❣️ + Jackson and Luna!! His retainer verse!! :D
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Important Survey [accepting]
Who is the little spoon? Whoever needs to be. They have an equitable partnership in which cuddles abound.
Who sings in the shower? Luna's more of a bath person, but yeah, it's her. She doesn't realise how far her voice carries and would be deeply embarrassed if she knew, so sometimes Jackson likes to hum those same melodies back at her later, just to be a lil shit.
Who plays pranks on the other? Yeah.
Who is the one who listens to pop music? Pop music as we know it doesn't really exist in Tenebrae, so Jackson probably had to sneak in an mp3 from the Empire. They're both jamming though.
Who brings the other a random cup of joe? Making tea is Luna's love language.
Who picks the cheesy movies for date night? This one would be Jackson, but again - electronic media is limited in their country. He has his sources, however. But don't get it twisted, they're not watching sappy romcoms in there, oh no. They're watching the most incredible, plot twist-filled overdramatised soap operas, often in languages neither of them speak, and getting deeply invested. Actual footage.
Who is more likely to feed the other in public? They're on their best behaviour in public for obvious reasons. In private, Jackson has been known to shove a croissant into Luna's mouth whenever she proclaims that nothing could possibly cheer her up. (It usually works.)
Who gives the other random little compliments? They're both pretty complimentary, but Luna is especially so. She's so heartfelt too.
Who is always stealing food from the other’s plate? Funny story, it's actually the opposite - Luna doesn't eat much due to dietary restrictions on account of her title and public image and whatnot, so Jackson is always sneaking extra food onto her plate.
Who is more likely to let the other borrow their car?  For the love of god please do not let these two drive please.
Who makes the list before they go grocery shopping? During the rare occasion in which Luna has been called upon to shop, she tries to be prepared. She makes a list, but she doesn't actually know what they need so they usually get like three times the stuff.
Who makes sure the other takes their meds when sick? Luna is the one always trying to force Jackson to take better care of himself and rest when he's sick. He's a stubborn boy.
Who watches sports and has to teach the other the rules? Tenebrae has live sporting events, which Luna has dragged Jackson to once or twice. She gets very excited and talks the whole game.
Who pulls the other to their feet for a dance in the living room? Jackson is the one dragging Luna onto her feet when it's just the two of them, but at events and such, it's Luna who tries to encourage Jackson to relax, have fun, and "put a load off" (she's not good at slang, be patient pls).
Who has to keep reminding the other to hurry or they’ll be late? Luna is a punctual woman and she's always ready ahead of time. Thus she's the one telling Jackson to hurry up even though they still have an hour and a half to be ready for the Thing they need to do.
Who is the one most likely to get a tattoo with the other’s name? Jackson faked having done this once as a prank and Luna still hasn't forgiven him.
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I posted 12,415 times in 2022
That's 6,418 more posts than 2021!
36 posts created (0%)
12,379 posts reblogged (100%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@theintelligentfool
@transitiveunacomplishedfool
@somelazyassartist
@wizardpotions
@fish927836991748483729
I tagged 5,342 of my posts in 2022
#tma - 350 posts
#disco elysium - 299 posts
#fave - 236 posts
#ace attorney - 156 posts
#stories - 142 posts
#pokemon - 118 posts
#sxf - 105 posts
#comic - 104 posts
#taz balance - 101 posts
#wwdits - 100 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#like. there is some enjoyable media that has room to play with. but for every piece of good media people latch onto there are so many worse
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
god i love music.
8 notes - Posted February 4, 2022
#4
hello bdu enjoyers! I posted a short fic for Valentine's day yesterday and thought this would be a good way to get the word out. hope you enjoy if you decide to give it a read :]
the music we make is unnatural (but it sounds just like falling in love)
Summary:
Chosen wants to surprise Evil and Total with a date for Valentine's day. Planning it requires more self-introspection than she thought. Sometimes identity is found in a fifteen dollar dress.
Or;
Missing scenes from before their date. All ye who enter here be warned: the power of love and plenty of other sappiness be abound.
16 notes - Posted February 15, 2022
#3
i have homework i should be doing but all i can think about is the world building and the plot and the ending of disco elysium
i've only played through it the one time but the entire thing makes me go kind of nuts? all of it. everything. (warning for spoilers past this point so like. yeah)
you wake up in a haze and you have to walk yourself through talking to people like a person and meeting kim and making a lot of assertions based on very little information, throwing you into the deep end of things from the get go. you are given next to no information on anything and you have to balance finding out what you can and revealing this vulnerability, your lack of certainty in anything. and that's without, like, getting into the whole fucking bucket of worms that comes with playing as an established character.
slowly, slowly you gather information about the world. where you are, what things are, pieces of history and information on politics. it's slow, but fascinating, as it introduces you to an entirely new present and past.
and then! and then you learn about the pale. something that left me reeling, feeling the need to put it down and process it all for a minute. the pale, some you get snippets and allusions to (the map wall, for example) but is only explained in full when joyce talks about it.
you are told about this impossible thing, something that your entire people barely understands and can only just twist into something they can cross. you are told about this horrifying, terrifying and perhaps most importantly utterly unimaginable thing that is slowly encroaching further and further into the world, this thing that will one day swallow everything you know and care for and have ever been into a fathomless void of nothing.
perhaps, really, the pale is just entropy, given form. but there is something about how casually this fact is accepted that made me pause. you are told this, and there is nothing you can do about it. disco elysium is not about this. it is about something as mundane as man who was killed for reasons, that are, in the end, mundane. it is about how you, harry, either or both cannot change the world. just pieces.
i don't know what it is about. cycles of violence, maybe. how humanity has lived through dozens of political and socioeconomic stylings, how none of them have stuck and none of them will but we will still be here regardless.
i think the thing i keep coming back to, other than the pale and the commentary, is the mundanity of it all. even when things that are bizarre, that seem like earth shattering revelations take place, they are... mundane. or at least, there is nothing you can do with them, and the only option left is to go on.
you wake up after what must have been one of the worst nights of your life, and you get dressed. you check yourself in the mirror, and then you go to work. there is a hole in the world, 2 millimeters in size. you must go on. you are shot, wake up two days later, and then get back to work. there is no rest for the wicked, after all.
you dream of a saint, of your ex, of a dead man. you take what you can from these and move on. there is nothing else you can do.
there is an insect, and it is kind and beautiful and at the same time terrifying. it is, indirectly, the cause for the violence and heartbreak that brought you here. it is, indirectly, the reason you can choose to begin healing.
it tells you about how humanity is unknowingly bringing about its own destruction.
you must go on.
and in the end, all you come away with is memories like swiss cheese, another case to tick off on a list, and perhaps the knowledge that however you could, you affected a tiny piece of the world.
disco elysium is a good game, i think.
35 notes - Posted February 21, 2022
#2
blorbo from my shows this blorbo from my shows that. what about blorbo from my podcasts? my blorbo for whom my interpretation is the only right one and everyone else is wrong and stupid even though there is no canon design
36 notes - Posted February 1, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
*putting on my clown shoes* yeah i can totally make an appropriate amount of pasta for one person bro trust me
78 notes - Posted January 26, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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tardytothesimspardy · 6 months
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Winterfest (and other things)
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I feel like it would take forever to put those icicle lights up
A price that the Brokes have to pay (despite the cause being beyond their control) for not aging whilst everyone around does, is that Flat, Flo, Mary Lu, and Buck all now know a lot of old Sims, most of which were their age when they first met.
The day before Winterfest, Buck got the news that yet another Sim that he was close with, had died, and he was properly upset about it. His grief caused him to sleep restlessly, to be nigh on inconsolable, and maybe it was because of this that a fire broke out in the Broke house.
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Fortunately, Mary Lu was in the house, and she was (somehow) able to keep a steady head and extinguish the flames before they lost too many things, including her husband.
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He now has a fear of fire, but that hasn't significantly affected him, given that four out of the five rooms in his house have fireplaces that are lit constantly (even when I tell them to put them out, someone else comes along 10 minutes later and lights them again).
But this minor incident did not impede the rest of the family, namely Susie and Mary Lu, from the excitement of the season.
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They decorated the tree, which was hastily stuffed in the middle of the living room/dining room/kitchen, so that people wouldn't get cold from looking at the tree.
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Festivities were abound, so much so that Susie was even relatively decent to Trigger! He gets a single day of reprieve.
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Later that evening, Flat, Flo, and Ruby all came over, as part of the dinner party that Buck had organized earlier.
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Unlike the Harvestfest dinner, they had it inside, even if it meant that a few of them couldn't sit down to enjoy the meal. It didn't seem to affect anything, other than the fact that Flat nabbed a rice krispie treat from the fridge before Mary Lu had finished with the ham, so everyone refused to sit at that spot, which is a little ridiculous.
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Finally, the gift-giving portion of the night began, with Susie first in line to ask Father Winter a present, followed by Trigger, then Mary Lu.
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Then they opened the presents in the pile, and Buck and Susie were less than impressed.
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I can understand why Susie may have gotten that present, given her thoroughly "not nice" behavior throughout the year, but I don't understand why Buck got a singular carrot? Maybe someone thought, "Well, he has planted a few things by the side of the house, maybe he would like to plant another thing?" They seem to have thought wrong.
Mary Lu gifted Trigger with the guitar she had bought at the store, and he was really excited about it. Maybe he'll take up the guitar. Somehow I've never had a Sim get good at the guitar.
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Buck gave Mary Lu a simple but heartfelt gift, which she very much enjoyed. She's sappy like that.
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The night ended quite well overall, and I imagine at least one of them have received a gift that is extremely expensive that I have no idea what to do with, but I won't sell because it'll give them too much money, and so it'll sit in their inventory forever. That's basically my favorite Sims pastime.
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sutrala · 1 year
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True love isn't sappy sentamentalism. True love is shoving you out of the way of a speeding train or car. It can be uncomfortable and awkward. It can be sudden and offensive. It also saves your life.....eternally. #fyp Matthew 21:22 - And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive. John 3:16 - For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life Mark 5:36 - As soon as #Jesus heard the word that was spoken, he saith unto the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid, only believe. #salvation. Romans 15:13 - Now the God of #hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost Acts 3:19 - Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of #refreshing shall come from the presence of the #Lord; 2 Chronicles 7:14 - If my people, which are called by my name, shall #humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from #heaven, and will #forgive their sin, and will heal their land. 1 John 1:9 - If we #confess our #sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. #Luke 13:3 - I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Acts 17:30 - And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men every where to repent: #Acts 2:38 - Then Peter said unto them, #Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. #Ezekiel 18:21-23 - But if the #wicked will turn from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and do that which is #lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die. Romans 2:4 - Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of #God leadeth thee to repentance? #Romans 12:12 - Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer https://www.instagram.com/p/CndB31RPlSp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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artnerd1123 · 5 years
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So,,, 🌊🌱🌊 Kelp, huh?
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"It's dusk, dearest. (In passing, isn't 'dusk' a lovely word? I like it better than twilight. It sounds so velvety and shadowy and . . . and . . . dusky.) In daylight I belong to the world . . . in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself . . . and you. So I'm going to keep this hour sacred to writing to you. Though this won't be a love-letter. I have a scratchy pen and I can't write love-letters with a scratchy pen . . . or a sharp pen . . . or a stub pen. So you'll only get that kind of letter from me when I have exactly the right kind of pen.
Anne writing to Gilbert in Anne of Windy Poplars
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