Hi! I'm Kat, I'm 28 and from Denmark. I love Supernatural, The Avengers, and many more! I'm a sucker for Bucky Barnes, obsessed with Zombies Run! and a total music junkie. I come and go, so who knows what'll happen when
Hey so I know we All Know This but I will NEVER be over a character being feverish and delirious and making No sense. I will never be over a glittery-eyed, shivering, distressed character weakly gripping another's arm and asking them questions they don't know the answer to, and probably don't mean anything at all. I will never be over characters calling out for people either long gone or right next to them, but unrecognizable in their delirium. I will never be over a character crying in frustration and fear over something in their head they can't explain to whoever is helping them, and all they can do in return is stroke their hair and shush them gently.
They're intertwined, connected, on a deeper instinctual level that no one besides them understands.
So when Soap is nearly killed by Markov, and Laswell is demanding blood but can't send her boys out since they're so injured and way too bloodthristy to make sure they get the information from him before they'd kill him, she sends the medic.
No one knows what happened to you-
One day you're visiting Soap in the hospital wing and laughing at his stupid jokes, and the next, you're gone.
Dissappeared.
They ask Laswell and she just tells them it's personal issues and not to worry, that you're doing just fine.
What they don't know is that you've currently got a blade against the throat of one of Markov's lackeys and are slowly pressing it harder into his carotid artery.
"If I cut right here, you'll bleed out in less than thirty seconds, without treatment. Maybe twenty if you scream."
See, when Laswell read your file when it initially crossed her desk, she failed to realize that when it said you were "Loyal and willing to go above and beyond for teammates" it meant that. Even if it meant getting your hands dirty.
Because now you've got intel on where Markov's latest hideout is, and you're approaching it ever so closely.
It's been almost three months since they've seen or heard from you when Laswell gets a call during a briefing that stops everyone - even the three star generals as they see the glint is her eyes as she nods along to whatever the other person on the phone is telling her. She hangs up and sighs deeply, almost as if something got lifted off her chest.
"Gather at the airfield in eight hours."
No explanation, just an order. Plain and clear with no room for negotiation.
As the aircraft lands and slows to a stop, the team gather around the back of it, awaiting whatever Laswell said was important enough to get them up as the sun was rising.
The door opens and they don't know what to expect.
New recruits? New vechicals? Weapons?
What they don't expect to see is you.
Covered in dried blood, holding something in your hand as you walk down the ramp and as they realize what it is, they stare open mouthed at you.
Markov's decapitated head.
You're holding it by his hair, walking towards Kate and her gaggle of generals that accompanied her. One of them turns away as you approach, barely concealing his gag.
You lift the head up towards Laswell as she nods at you.
"Well done, medic."
The boys never thought that their little medic could turn out to be as bloodthirsty as they were....or much worse.
They approach you with much more respect after that. And you've earned a new nickname: Valkyrie.
They're intertwined, connected, on a deeper instinctual level that no one besides them understands.
So when Soap is nearly killed by Markov, and Laswell is demanding blood but can't send her boys out since they're so injured and way too bloodthristy to make sure they get the information from him before they'd kill him, she sends the medic.
No one knows what happened to you-
One day you're visiting Soap in the hospital wing and laughing at his stupid jokes, and the next, you're gone.
Dissappeared.
They ask Laswell and she just tells them it's personal issues and not to worry, that you're doing just fine.
What they don't know is that you've currently got a blade against the throat of one of Markov's lackeys and are slowly pressing it harder into his carotid artery.
"If I cut right here, you'll bleed out in less than thirty seconds, without treatment. Maybe twenty if you scream."
See, when Laswell read your file when it initially crossed her desk, she failed to realize that when it said you were "Loyal and willing to go above and beyond for teammates" it meant that. Even if it meant getting your hands dirty.
Because now you've got intel on where Markov's latest hideout is, and you're approaching it ever so closely.
It's been almost three months since they've seen or heard from you when Laswell gets a call during a briefing that stops everyone - even the three star generals as they see the glint is her eyes as she nods along to whatever the other person on the phone is telling her. She hangs up and sighs deeply, almost as if something got lifted off her chest.
"Gather at the airfield in eight hours."
No explanation, just an order. Plain and clear with no room for negotiation.
As the aircraft lands and slows to a stop, the team gather around the back of it, awaiting whatever Laswell said was important enough to get them up as the sun was rising.
The door opens and they don't know what to expect.
New recruits? New vechicals? Weapons?
What they don't expect to see is you.
Covered in dried blood, holding something in your hand as you walk down the ramp and as they realize what it is, they stare open mouthed at you.
Markov's decapitated head.
You're holding it by his hair, walking towards Kate and her gaggle of generals that accompanied her. One of them turns away as you approach, barely concealing his gag.
You lift the head up towards Laswell as she nods at you.
"Well done, medic."
The boys never thought that their little medic could turn out to be as bloodthirsty as they were....or much worse.
They approach you with much more respect after that. And you've earned a new nickname: Valkyrie.
Rommy im sick š soothe me with omegaverse please? If you have some in your drafts
You're in the middle of walking back from the mess hall when a hand comes out of nowhere and grabs you.
The only reason you don't punch the fucker that suddenly leans in to smell your neck is because you hear gaz hiss "ghost! What the fuck?! You cannot just do that to people!"
"The pups sick." Is ghosts reply, his head moving in your peripheral to lean in for another smell.
"Whoah, wait, really?" Kyle asks, appearing in front of you. He completely ignores your attempt to talk and goes for the other side of your shoulder, sniffing "...I don't smell it."
"Nah, it's there. Sour, kind of." Ghost grunts, breath warm on your neck. You pointedly don't acknowledge the look passerbys give you, a secretary surrounded by two alphas burying their face in your neck.
"...oh I smell it too," kyle nods, then pulls away to inspect your face. "You sick, kit?"
You briefly calculate your chances of success when lying directly to two SAS and elite task force members, then with your full chest say "no. I'm not sick."
...you seem to have miscalculated.
Because suddenly ghost and gaz are shoving your into their den, talking to themselves about getting you time off and some medicine. You don't fight as ghost pulls you into his chest, but tiredly ask "do I get a say in this? I'm not that sick."
"Nope." Gaz and ghost reply at the same time. Gaz crawls in after you two, settled with his chest to yours. Effectively sandwiching you between the two alphas as they purr and soothe you.
It's...actually kind of nice. Not needing to force yourself to keep going, or your groggy mind to focus. You pass out embarrassingly fast while the soldiers chat above you, knowing they'll take care of you.
Themes/Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of violence and torture, soft angst, caring Kƶnig, protective reader, some fluff- might continue with a proper soft caring Kƶnig
Notes: the COD boys have my absolute heart atm. It all stems from fanfiction and tumblr writing, I'm sorry, I haven't played the games. Feedback and critism are welcome!
I really hate how Tumblr formats my writing!! Sorry for the massive gaps, I wrote this in Ellipus and copied-pasted it from there. I'm too lazy to go through and edit the spacing ā¤ļø
You could hear them just outside your cell door. Fists meeting faces. Bones being broken. Stifled cries that caused a fresh torrent of anger to burn through your bruised and broken body.
Your boysā¦your menā¦your teamā¦barely out of the training fieldā¦with barely enough experience for the fieldā¦caught up in a mess meant to break you.
And they were holding strong. You knew they were. Because you'd be dead if they told these people who you were.
That's at least what you suspected. Because why else would they be asking for your name over and over again?
Your cell was a metal storage unit. One of those long containers ferried on ships with added chains to keep you securely in place. Arms over your head, your fists cuffed at odd angles and your feet barely touching the cold ground- you swung lazily back in forth. Twitching whenever you heard one of your boys cry outā¦
Hold onā¦ You wanted to tell them. Hold on just a little longer and I'll get you all out of here.
But you never had a chance to promise them this. Your captors tortured them outside your container but never dragged their unconscious bodies in for you to see. They only gloated about it.
Waving their busted knuckles in your face, forcing you to look at the blood that caked their fists. Spitting insults and smirking about how the youngest recruit couldn't see the punches coming because his eyes were swollen shut.
They must like how you looked dangling, helpless, but so full of rage your eyes promised silent vengence.
You couldn't do anything to help themā¦your teamā¦your boysā¦they were just out of reachā¦
Rain fell heavily beyond the metal cell. So thunderous were these fat drops that you could barely hear your own thoughts. A chill began to creep into your skin, giving you some respite against the ache that burned through your limbs.
Hours would pass like this. Days, even. You weren't sure how long you've been hanging in this dark prison.
Between being unconscious, hunger and the pain; your reality was beginning to warp together into blurred images of fractured faces.
The door to your cell opened. Spilling bright white light into the dark container from a man's torch strapped to his head. He blinded you, making you wince, as he said something- but you couldn't hear him over the storm.
Water pooled in behind him as the wind howled outside. It was freezing! You almost growled at the man to shut the damn door.
"Hungry, bitch?" The man's voice was barely audible over the rain now he was closer. He placed something at your feet.. a plate of porridge..still steaming with heat straight out of the pot. "Tell me your name and I'll let you eat."
It was the same tactic everytime. They would offer you something- food, clothes, a break from the pain but would ask for your name in return.
And everytime you said nothing.
You were pretty sure you haven't said a word since you were captured. Other than one order to your team as you were dragged to the ground- "Don't tell them anything!"
And even here, even when your stomach clenched painfully and your mouth tried to salivate with the smell of sweet porridge, your lips stayed sealed.
The torch jolstled as the man laughed. "Suit yourself. But I ain't feeding ya. Maybe a few minutes of-"
There was a crack of bone and the blinding light snapped to the left. The man crumbled to the ground with a heavy thud, spilling the bowl's contents over your feet, and in his place was Levi. One of your boys.
He nearly tripped over the body. Gasping and cursing as he stumbled, holding his side.
"Hang on, Captain. Have to find the damn keys." Levi's voice sounded rough and he moved with a limp, bending over with a soft grunt as he patted down the dead man's sides.
You could have fainted with relief if the situation wasn't so dire. "The others?" Your own voice sounded foriegn to your ears. As rough as sandpaper.
"Andy and Riley are outside." Levi explained, finding the keys he shuffled over to your hanging form and reached up to uncuff your bleeding wrists. He winced as he stretched. And this close, you could smell the blood, bile and piss on him.
His entire face was swollen and bruised. You spotted missing teeth when he continued talking. "Sammy is trying to find a radio and Tyeā¦he can't seeā¦"
"Where is he?" You asked, grunting as your arms fell to your sides. Your knees buckled and you fell to the floor with a crash of leadened limbs and bloodied skin.
"He told us to leave him-"
"Where. Is. He?" You spat through your teeth, clenching against the pain as you forced your legs to carry you. Snatching up the dead man's weapon as you practically crawled over him.
Levi aided where he could. But he wasn't in any state to help you. His own wounds were blatant in the way he walked, barely able to hold himself upright- there was no chance he could carry your wieght as well.
"Across camp, to the south by the barracks." Levi told you. Pointing towards a series of buildings that was lit up by the lights circling the camp. The rain made everything sparkle but foggy, as if you were looking through a misted window towards a city. "They tied us up against the fence. Riley got loose. Came looking for you before bouncing."
You ducked behind a vehicle parked just outside your container. You spotted Andy across the way, hidden amongst the shadows of a large canvas tent. Only visible to you when he shifted to catch your attention. You nodded towards him. Then turned to Levi, twitching when Riley materilized out of the rain. Sliding underneath Levi's arm to support him.
"Do you have a rendevous point with Sam?" You asked and Riley nodded.
"West side of the camp. Once he's found a radio or called for aid, he'll meet us there."
"Get yourselves over here and if you have an opening to go, take it." You said and handed Riley the gun. He looked confused and you saw the arguement in his eyes. "You're my responsibility. Including Tye. You focus on getting everyone out. I'll make sure Tye meets up with you."
Out of your boys, Riley had stepped up more than once to take control of a situation. He was smart; probably too smart for his own good, but he was always the first to take on the role others shied away from.
He stepped up. Just as you knew he would in this moment.
Riley looked at the gun, to you and then to Levi and nodded. "See you soon, Captain." Was his farewell before hauling Levi out of cover. Andy followed suit. Passing close enough to touch your shoulder before hurrying after Riley.
The three of them disappeared into the rain and you forced your body to move. The camp was empty. The residents were hiding inside out of the rain. Leaving the muddy grounds open for you to trek across camp entirely unseen.
There were no watch-towers. No guards patrolling. A big mistake on these fuckers part. But quite fortunate for you.
Because you managed to find the posts your boys were tied up to quickly. Water mixed with blood in shallow puddles and the cut ropes from your teams capture were left laying in the rain.
Tye, however, was nowhere to be seen.
You used the ground to track him. Amongst the mess of boot-prints and deep tracks from cars, you found a fresh trail of deep grooves in the wet dirt.
Someone being dragged, kicking and flailing, by three people.
You followed it into a small shed just a small ways from where your boys had been tied up.
And you heard the commotion before you even opened the door. Even with the rain and distant thunder; the sound of fists striking flesh, threats and demands made on laughing voices; told you exactly what was happening before you even opened the door.
Three men had Tye in a chair. Unbound but his arms grappled behind his back by the third man. The other two were taking turns punching Tye's stomach. Forcing his head back so they could strike him across the face with their knuckles.
The poor kid's face was swollen to the point of bursting. His eyes were closed, bloodied and dappled with color. His clothes were torn and you spotted angry red welts across his exposed chestā¦ the rage from before burned through you and the man holding back Tye's arms, looked up to see a blur of fury charging into his comrade.
The first man you tackled died with his own knife buried into his throat. The second lunged for a weapon but you kicked his legs out from under him, your boot then coming down on the back of his head- knockng him out cold.
The third tried using Tye as a shield, but when your boy sensed the oppotunity, he threw back his head and cracked his scalp against his captor's nose. It gave him enough leverage to tear away from the man and allow you to throw the fucker against a wall.
You slammed his head three times against the bricks and he crumbled like a sack of potatoes.
"C-Captain?" It broke your heart to hear such a happy kid sound so scared. He could barely stand.
"Let's get you out of here." You replied in a soft tone, letting his hands find yours as he reached out for you. Blind to the room, you threw his arm over your shoulders and guided him out of the building.
"The others-"
"They're on their way out. Surely, you didn't think I was going to leave you behind." You assured him, pulling his wieght onto you, despite your own body wanting to fall face first into the cool mud. "I got you."
Your words seemed to break the last of his resolve. He all but collasped against you, mumbling incoherent words until you hushed him. The two of you stumbled through the rain, keeping to the shadows as much as you could. The storm was getting worse.
The wind howled like a beast. Clawing at the pair of you with enough force to almost topple you both over.
Almost thereā¦ You told yourself. The west side fence had a hole in it. Cut recently, you imagined, by your boys and their rush for freedom. You didn't spy anyone waiting aroundā¦until Riley stepped out of the shadows like the damn wraith he was, and took Tye from you.
"Sammy phoned home." Riley hurried said, easing Tye through the fence first. "But we need to leave. He had to shoot a few to get back to us. It won't be long until they're found."
You nodded, letting your boys crawl to freedom first before following. You took Tye's other side and together with Riley, dragged him out of the mud and into the forest beyond the camp.
You got maybe a few feet into the trees before a sirens split the night open and suddenly the camp behind you flared to life.
A glance over your shoulder allowed you a glimpse of many bodies rushing for vehicles, sprinting through the camp until someone spotted the fence and began following.
You took the weapon from Riley and shoved your boys up a slope. "Go! Keep running and do not look back!"
"Captain!" Your boys shouted after you. But you were already running, sprinting until you found the first man that wasn't your team and fired. The body fell with a hole through his skull and the shot boomed through the storm. Your pursurers dove to the ground, shouts of warning filled the forest before returning fire forced you to duck behind cover.
Using the thick trunks to shield you from a hail of bullets, you ran into the storm and away from your boys.
You didn't stop until you ran out of bullets. A trail of corpses followed you until you no longer heard the enemy shouts.
You weren't even sure how long you've been running. Your legs ached and your lungs never had enough air. It was a miracle you haven't been caught already.
The first rays of sunlight trickled through the clouds. When did it stop raining? You don't remember the dark storm dispersing.
At least they're not shooting at me anymore.
You stumbled to a stop. Tripping over a tree root, you collasped against a sturdy trunk and leaned against it. Your breathes came out in heavy wheezes. Your sight faded in and out of focus.
"Don't you dare faint." You growled at yourself. "You cannot run all this way just to faint right now."
Your little pep-talk was interrupted by voices echoing through the fog. They sounded distant but with each whispered word, you made out they were closing in.
Pushing off your tree, you kept running. More or less, moving as quickly as your body allowed through an endless sea of grey cloud and dark trees. Until you stumbled onto the porch of a house. Long since abandoned by its owners, with decaying wooden walls and broken glass windows; but it would do.
You climbed the stairs to the second floor and closed the door to a room that would have once been the master bedroom.
The furniture was gone. The harsh smell of mold and mildew hung in the air as you eased your numb body into a sitting position against the wall. Facing the door.
You would at least meet them face first if your pursuors stumbled over this place like you did. You didn't have a weaponā¦and you barely had the strength to keep your eyes openā¦ yeahā¦ whoever came through that door would have the easiest kill of their life for sureā¦
You didn't dare let your eyes close. But listened for the approaching footsteps. Even with the wind and soft patter of rain on the ruined roof, you heard them approaching.
You picked up on five distinct voices. Chattering to someone on a radio.
"Found a buildingā¦they might have taken shelterā¦"
"Remember, this fucker is dangerous. Don't let them get close. We don't know if they're armed."
You at least had that in your favor.
The creaking wood of the front porch announced their arrival. Their entry was silent. You dragged yourself to your feet, wincing when the floor groaned underneath youā¦fuckā¦
That was it.
The soft press of boots approached your door. The aduible click of a gun being cocked had your heart racing. You raised your hands and inched closer to the door. If you could just grab one of themā¦. Maybe you had a chance...
Something bounced on the floor-boards. Rolling towards your door.
"Grenade!" A soldier screamed and suddenly the hallway beyond your sanctuary exploded. You jumped away from the wall as cracks formed through the plaster and pieces of metal splintered through the wood.
Gunfire rattled the house. Bodies hit the ground and within seconds of chaos erupting, it ended. Silence, swallowed by light pattering of rain, followed.
Three heart-beats later, a quiet, near inaudble voice called your name and you nearly sank back to the ground again.
"Konig, I'm alive."
The door swung open immedately and a titan of a man rushed into the room. He was drenched in water. His cowl clung to his face like a second skin, framing a gaze that was so full of rage you bristled beneath it's heat.
You swayed, the last of your energy slipped through your grasp as you forced your cracked lips to smile. "Now how did you get from-"
"You've been gone for a week." Was his response, crossing the room in two long strides to steady you. The fire in his eyes sputtered out when you grunted at his touch. His fingers, as gentle as a man his size could, could not land without touching some bruised part of you.
His breathing quickened, this close you could hear his teeth grinding together. "How bad?"
It was somewhat charming to hear his usually calm demeanor sharpen at the edges. The way his eyes bounced between injury to blood stain to bruise, you could tell the state of you was adding fuel to an already mountainous pyre.
"I think I'm about to pass out." You admitted. Knowing better than to lie to him. Somehow, he just knew when you were trying to hide something. "The boys-"
"Already evac'ed out." Konig grunted and you allowed him to move up beside you. "They had to be wrestled onto the heli. Wanted to join the search to look for you."
Stooping down, Konig uttered a soft apology before sweeping your legs out from under you. You barely had time to resist! The sudden dip and lift had your ribs grinding together and you slammed your lips closed to stop yourself from screaming.
Gritting your teeth, you gave into the mortifying situation. "If you utter a single syllable about this to anyoneā¦"
There was no chuckle or twinkling reply in his eyes. His hands held you as if you were made of glass; his fingers splayed carefully across your sides and taking each step as if you'd shatter from the tiniest jostle.
You concentrated on staying awake. Breathing in as much as your ribs would allow to keep your sight from dipping into darkness.
"Last I heard..you were..across the ocean.." Each word hurt, making you gasp as Konig carried you down the stairs and into the room that could have been the lounge-room once.
Using the tip of his boot, he dragged a wooden box away from the wall and placed you down ontop of it.
"A little bird told me you went MIA during a field test with your new team." Konig explained. He knelt down beside you, resting one knee on the ground to balance himself as he ruffled through his many pockets.
The vest had numerous knives and ammuntions. His belt held a few holsters but he clicked open a small pouch by his hip, producing a roll of clean bandages.
You would never admit it, but the way Konig seemed to freeze as he checked each injury, his gloved fingers ghosting over welts and open cuts; it was endearingā¦in a morbid sort of way.
"They wanted me alive." You explained, lifting the left side of you ruined shirt to display a slash that was swollen and angry. "Wanted my name for some reason. That's all they kept asking."
Konig was no medic but at least his touch was gentle. He moved slowly, letting you lean against his broad shoulder as he wrapped what he could.
You had to keep talking or unconsciousness was going to take you. "How'd you find me?"
"Followed the bodies." He replied. His voice felt like thunder through your skin. "Then when they ran out, I made my own path. Those upstairs were the last ones."
"How badly hurt were the boys?" You asked.
"Don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to ask." He admitted. You rested your cheek against his shirt. He smelled like rain and old clothes. "They said you ran east. So I went east."
His fingers brushed against your side and you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut against the flash of white hot pain.
Konig's apology whispered through his cowl.
When he was done, you tried to move away to let him stand but Konig settled an arm around your shoulders. Tenderly forcing you to rest against him.
"Don't need you falling to the floor." He said. But there was no humor behind his tone, just ice.
You mumbled something, but even to you it was incoherent. Licking your lips, you forced your next words to be heard.
"Wake me if there's trouble."
The massive form of muscle shifted beneath you as your eyes finally closed. And you felt his cowl brush against the side of your head as he sighed against your shoulder.
Whatever he said next was lost to the fog of sleep.
Humans having the incredible ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere. So long as isnāt actively on fire or made of broken glass and wasp stingers, itās good enough for a human to conk out on. It not exactly good sleep, but itās sleep either way.
Which is very odd to the galactic community.
Rest comes in all sorts of forms across the galaxy, some having sleep similar to ours, some having hibernation/brumation cycles, some going into meditative states, some retreating to cocoons, some photosynthesising, some even being technologically advanced enough to simply just plug themselves in and literally recharge. But the seeming inescapability of human sleep isā¦a little concerning.
If a human is tired enough, they will be able to sleep just about anywhere. Bed, sofa, armchair, the floor, a table, three chairs lined up, propped up like a doll against the wall, on top of another person, on a rock thatās even vaguely flat, on a gnarled tree branch, sometimes even floating in water or suspended by a harness. Wherever. So long as we can breathe, we can and will fall asleep.
The same canāt be said of aliens, theyāre a bit more picky by comparison, or they can stave off their exhaustion through emergency chemical reactions long enough to find somewhere appropriate to rest. Some are so specialised that they require their environments to be utterly perfect before their body allows them to rest. Those aliens are deeply jealous while waiting around at the Spaceport for their shuttle to start boarding and seeing humans clumped together on a bench in a very uncomfortable looking pile, snoring away.
And then, an alien species named the KhakāCthrax, a species known for their aggressive behaviour and bodies covered in rocky scales and dangerous barbs, discovering this aspect of humans.
One KhakāCThrax soldier being deployed to assist in saving some human civilians from a war zone and ending up having to carry a teenager for a while due to there not being enough gurneys. The juvenile human ends up nodding off in the soldierās hands and at first he thinks the teenager has perished because the KhakāCThrax are not the type of person you would consider comfortable to rest on much less feel āsafeā around inherently, but after the field medic explains that the child is only asleep, unsurprisingly from the day they had had, the soldier practically becomes a broody mother hen for the human. This little one trusted him??? Enough to rest while held in his arms??? They are his baby now???
Made worse by the fact that humans are half the size of the average KhakāCThrax when fully grown, so a scrawny juvenile was practically the size of a newly hatched whelp to the soldier. All tiny and soft and squishy. The soldier nearly took another KhakāCThraxās arm off for trying to poke his new human baby.
Hello, I'm Bix! I'm a writer, and you've probably seen some of my more popular stuff floating around, like the daycare worker story, or the one about the thing under the fridge. I've also written a bunch more stories you can find on my masterpost!
I'm disabled and can't work, so I need some help. Every month I pass the basket around and ask if anybody's got money to spare. I don't want anybody's last dollar, I don't want anybody to put themselves in a bad situation for me. This is just if you've got some extra you don't mind putting my way. I also really appreciate those kind folks who sign up for recurring donations, and you can do that too, if you're so inclined (and financially stable enough to do that! again, do not put yourself in a bad situation for me, not once, not ever).
If you look in the notes of this post, it'll show what the current progress is, because I update daily (as I have news to report, anyway), and I always turn of reblogs once I hit my goal, so if this is still passing around and you can reblog it, I'm not there yet!
my ko-fi is here
Thanks to some generous donations last month, and my monthly folks, I am at
flower language has always been an intense source of disappointment for me
like, they all mean really generic things like āloveā or āforeverā or āiām sorryāĀ
i thought you could combine flowers
like you could just send someone a bouquet and from the combination of hibiscus and posies and tulips theyād understand āthe rebel leader is dead, rendezvous at the docks at 8, bring the dog, you will need lighter fluid and Ā a large tomatoā
I really hope no oneās answered this for you yet, I saw this and got so excited that my obscure knowledge base might come into use.Ā I had to stretch a few flowers so to speak but Victorian flower language allows for alteration in meaning depending on colour, fruit, flower, bud, steam, leaves and thorns, so I didnāt feel I was too far out of line.Ā This message would work best as two bouquets bound together.Ā First red Nasturtium with no leaves (red denotes a leader, the nasturtium a patriot) mixed with white or red Mask Flowers (rebellion, red if you want to emphasize fighting, white martyrdom) around Cypress (death).Ā Then Chick weed (rendezvous) andĀ Blue Convolvulus (night) surrounded by eight White Popular Leaves (symbolises the time: eight), Yellow Iris (flame, and a flower that grows by rivers) and Yellow Prarie Dock Flowers (this was closest I could find to docks)and one large Tomato Leaf, all bound in Dogwood Bark.Ā Dogwood represents deceit, but as far as I could find the bark wasnāt used symbolically, and as you referred to the dog instead of a dog, I thought it was likely the pun should be a dead giveaway. Ā
Holy shit I just got the best fucking idea for a thieves guild that uses flowers to communicate in coded messages with each other. Itās the least efficient but the most fucking Dramatiqueā¢ way of sending codes to each other
So I donāt know if this has been done before, but here are all the things mentioned, in order.
Whew! It fits!
The dogwood bark at the end there is one of the less trypophobic pictures and Iām not sure if itās accurate. Nor am I sure that anything else is accurate.
The mask flowers were a teensy bit harder to find thanks to Covid.
and your problem is?? most of my stuff is being released for free and being a cc creator in the sims 2 shouldn't discredit my work compared to s4cc creators, sims 2 is better anyways and i could really easily turn the early access into a subscribers only subscription like all of the other sims 2 creators that have a patreon in here, bye.
Hi! It sounds like you haven't been in the TS2 community for long, but I have, so let me educate you a little: we don't do paid CC. The TS2 community is built around free to share and free to distribute.
You may be able to get away with that in TS4, but this community is built around principles of the old 'net and that means if someone gets their paws on your stuff and shares it around, you'll be powerless to stop it because legally, it's in the clear.
We have entire sites dedicated to poaching paid CC to distribute it, and those sites are 110% legal. PMBD is the most famous one, SimsCave is another. They're legal because EA never gave the okay for people to make money off of CC in TS2, which is a separate game entirely from TS4. It's not the same rules.
It's also not about deserving compensation - we're not some grindset hustle culture looking to be compensated for our time because #timeismoney or some shit, it's a hobby. For fun. Our hobby is free because this is not a contest of who can afford the nicest stuff, we want it to be an equal playing field. It's not remotely ethical to charge money for pixels. Microtransactions came way after this game's community established its ground rules.
This also wouldn't fly in many other communities. Nexus is an example - they do not allow paywalls, and they host mods for tons of games (including TS2!). Go to any other site that hosts S2CC as its main function and you'll notice that there's absolutely no payment options, because it's meant to be free. It's like a library where everyone can write a book and put it on the shelf.
If you want to make money, you can maybe link a tip jar, but Patreon in TS2's community is for hosting files because some sites are less than reliable. People who paywall get super badly bullied and harassed and it's just not worth it. There's been some absolutely awful shit that's happened to people over asking for payment. It is all to show: monetary gain is not welcome here. I am being nice, other people might not be.
I've been in this community since it began. It's not going to change its mind and start wanting to pay for CC. We're file-share-friendly to a fault. Our main host is literally called sim file share. It's not sim file paywall.
thank you to every single fucking person on this god forsaken site that has ever posted your own art or writing. You really put a vulnerable, important part of yourself out in the open on the hellscape that is the internet and if that isnt an act of bravery and a labor of love I dont know what one is
I and some colleagues were talking about how we wish everyone could see the safety videos that our company was showing us, because I donāt think most people understand how traffic works in a truck. So hereās some things we wish everyone on the road knew.
- weāre not kidding about tailgating. If youāre right behind us on a straight highway? Chances are we have NO IDEA youāre there, which means we canāt anticipate any of your movements. Plus slowing down takes multiple downshifts, so we might start decreasing speed way earlier than you expect.
- Weāre not kidding about any of our blind spots. WE CANāT SEE YOU, GUYS.
- That bit about slowing down taking a while? The same goes for when youāre in front of us. Donāt cut off a truck. Oh god, PLEASE donāt cut off a truck. If you cut me off, Iām not irritated, Iām terrified. For YOU. It can take 7 to 9 seconds for us to stop. DONāT CUT OFF TRUCKS.
- Before you get mad about how slow weāre going on the highway, keep in mind that many companies govern their vehicles so they literally CANāT go over 60 or 65. This is a good thing, I promise. Becauseā¦
- Do you know what happens when a car meets a truck in an accident? The car gets totaled and the truck needs a new coat of paint. You will not win this fight. I know nobody likes getting stuck behind a big dumb truck, but itās not worth your life.
We are trying our best to protect you from our 80,000 pound death machines. Please help us out.
You run a Bakery, just a normal bakery, the only problem is that your customers at midnight to 6AM are mythical creatures who pay with gemstones and ancient gold and silver coins
āMy guy, you are overpaying for your bread.ā I tell the being in front of me, getting a hissed out sound that could be a laugh, could be a death rattle. There are six sourdough loaves on the counter, unbagged and still a little warm from the oven. Itās four-forty-five AM, and sunrise is in thirty minutes.
āUnless this is a trick coin that disappears when the sun rises.ā I muse, looking down at the very suspicious *solid gold* coin sitting on my counter. Itās happened before. āIāll go get the scale I guess.ā I say, resigned, and head back to the office where I keep the box of jewelers-grade tools for this kind of thing.
If the coin is real, it certainly is heavy enough to be Significant. Itās nearly two ounces of solid gold.
āLook.ā I say, sighing as I look up the days gold prices. āIf I take this coin as a solid piece, *and* itās genuine through a year and a day, Iāll take the value and set you up a tab so that you donāt have to pay every time. Human money isnāt worth as much as this any more, and itās not fair to overcharge you for *bread*.ā I tell it.
The coin is worth over five thousand dollars in modern human American currency. Thatās absolutely going to be a pain to explain to the IRS.
A chittering sound like birds in the dark. Agreement, probably. Should be anyhow, my refusal to cheat anyone has been the reason these strange beings show up more and more often.
āSo I canāt make change for this.ā I tell the being. āIāll add it to the Vault, get it appraised once Iāve got it authenticated, and in the meantime you can have as much bread as you want.ā I say, and the bread vanishes into the things robes, to a very loud chirping storm that is silenced when the robes fall back into place.
āPleasure doing business.ā the being says in a voice that isnāt human, is very much *not* human and I donāt want to ask further. āWe will return. The wild seed rolls are delightful.ā it says in six different voices, and I grin and nod.
āCome back on Thursday.ā I tell them. āIāve been experimenting again, and I think the sunflower and pumpkin seed rolls are ready to go live. Weāve got the drop scheduled on instagram and tiktok!ā I tell them, and they whistle a chirpy tune as they pull a cell phone out of nowhere and scan my code that I had etched into the counter so that I didnāt have to make business cards. Even the eldrich have smartphones these days, and itās just easier to have something available that they donāt have to touch to get what they want, since some rules still say that they must offer something of equivalent exchange and cannot take gifts. Like a business card.
Itās not easy running a bakery, and nobody else will work the witching hours, but itās a lot of fun. Iād had no idea that so many *interesting* beings also loved bread as much as I do. I turn from waving to the strange being, and I move to check out my next customer.
Who is absolutely not three gnomes in a trench coat. Absolutely not. That would be absurd. They want three sandwiches, three giant cookies, and three coffees. Canāt be three gnomes in a trench coat though.
The rubies they pay with are very pretty though, and I consider again how hard it would be to find a jeweler who didnāt ask questions. A ruby necklace would be a lovely way to turn the gems and gold into cash for the business account.
I reload the gnomes tab, and they leave with their sandwiches and coffee and cookies, and I throw in a pack of ginger snap cookies for them to try too, since they always leave me good reviews on the local facebook pages.
You were absolutely right to tag me in this, this is phenomenal! Fun and fresh and endearing! The gnomes in a trench coat has my cry-laughing after the day Iāve had. Thanks so much for sharing your writing @jazzybot4
reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point
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