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#i just hope they don't look too wonky
piiinkfreak · 4 months
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A little SSSS illustration i was in the mood to draw some abandoned interiors
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iliketrainmen · 4 months
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After procrastinating making one of these for five million years, I've decided to open up commissions! (Looks a little wonky, but I tried my hardest)
UPDATE: I have added a PayPal option! Hopefully, it should work; it might be a bit wonky since I've literally never used it before until now. The link will be provided below the cut!
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VV Written version + more info under cut VV
Chibis
$3 Full Lineart
$5 Flat Colors
Sketch
$8 Headshot
$10 Half Body
$15 Full Body
+$3 per additional character
Flat Colors
$13 Profile Picture (Aka Headshot)
$15 Half Body
$20 Full Body
+$5 per additional character
Important note: please specify if you want trad/digital flat colors or digital colors!! The trad/digital flat coloring uses digital coloring over a traditional sketch, meanwhile digital coloring uses both digital lineart and coloring.
Full Illustration
$25 Half Body
$35 Full Body
+$7 for complicated backgrounds
Simple backgrounds are usually one or two colors with a few additional elements.
Complicated backgrounds involve multiple elements, such as buildings, wormholes, groups of unidentified people, etc.
+$10 per additional character
What I will Draw:
Furries, animals, pokemon, etc.
Ship art (Oc x Oc, Oc x Canon, Canon x Canon)
NSFW (MUST HAVE AGE IN BIO)
Note for NSFW: Due to Tumblr guidelines, I can't deliver final product through the app. When commissioning me for one of these, I ask that you send me an account on either Twitter 'X' or Discord. I will contact you on that account with the finished product when the time comes!
Gore (I would be surprised if you commission me something I haven't already done to Roark)
Any Fandom! You name it and I'll draw a character from it.
What I Won't Draw:
Any NSFW, Suggestive Content, or Gore of Minors.
Hardcore NSFW such as fetishes. I, surprisingly, have limits.
Payment
—I also take CashApp, but you'll need to dm me for my tag
—https://www.paypal.me/BrokeArtistThing (Hopefully this will work,,, please dm me if you have any issues with this link!)
There are two methods of which you can pay me:
Pay full total upfront
Or
Pay HALF at beginning of the process and the half at the end before receiving the final product
Typically, I should finish your commission in a month, if even that. If I don't, please shoot me a message as 1) I might have gotten caught up in other commissions/important life stuff or 2) I might've forgotten. I do offer refunds, but only BEFORE I begin the initial sketch. Once I start the sketch, I will notify you and I may send occasional progress updates. This is my first time opening up commissions, so I kindly ask that you're patient with me. I'm a full-time college student so my schedule is a bit difficult to work with.
Another quick note before I end off: if you don't want me to use your commission product as an example when I update this page, please let me know!
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majesticmagics · 10 months
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I was tagged by @transactinides but the original op disabled reblogs, so:
rules: shuffle your On Repeat liked songs playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people ✨
Gymnopédie No. 1 - Erik Satie
WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? - Bastille, Graham Coxon
Sunlight - Hozier
Life Will Change - Lyn (Persona 5 OST)
Adore - Free the Robots
Fighting Trousers - Professor Elemental
Siren - Kailee Morgue
Vampire Money - My Chemical Romance
BULLY IN THE ALLEY - Kimber's Men
Woe To the People of Order - The Shiny Snivy
@rinmession @scolek @v4mp123 @aguahouse @kanameows @capadipdap @morphogenetic-velvet @dontsteponthatfish @nacisses @scin7illa
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woozi · 2 years
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hi!! i started learning how to make gifs recently and my gifs look so different on my laptop vs my phone and i don’t know how i’m supposed to color them T__T can this be fixed or is this inevitable? thank u so much and i love ur work!!!!
hello, bestie! thank you for being so kind <3 i personally think it's inevitable even from pc/laptop screen to screen because we all have different displays due to manufacturing, but making your coloring as neutral as possible def helps!!
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rebouks · 6 months
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Keeping Lag to a Minimum...
I was chatting about a few things I do to combat lag over on discord and realised I do quite a bit of maintenance to reduce lag/load times. I decided to write em all down and before I knew it, I had a big ol' list. Here's hoping it helps!
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Save/File Tips:
Clear your caches (located in the same spot as your mod folder fyi) I usually delete the onlinethumbnailcache, avatarcache and localthumbcache caches every time I exit the game, the main one to delete regularly is the localthumbcache file, they're just temporary files but it can get pretty big after a while.. if you're having any mod issues, particularly ui ones, it's always worth deleting that to see if it helps.
Remove any saves you're not using from your saves folder, and keep an eye on save file sizes. In my experience, any saves over around 30-40mb start to get a bit laggy. Things that bump this size up are the amount of townies in game and the amount of lots/objects in the world.
Regarding the above point, I regularly bulldoze lots I don't need anymore, just to save the game from having to cope with extra shit to load in the background and reduce save file bloat.
Similarly, I delete a lot of unnecessary townies. Also, try to keep the amount of outfits on townies to a minimum, ain't no townie need four swimsuit outfits, the game will thank you..
If you have cheats enabled you can usually shift-click/delete object on things like random coffee cups or stray cupcakes sims foolishly drop around the world (or eat em.. whatever tickles ur pickle) just get rid!
Whilst we're keeping objects in game to a minimum.. I try to clear sims inventories now and then, including townies. You can do this via mccc even if you're not currently playing that household by heading to MC Cleaner -> Sell Sim Inventory/Sell Household Inventory. RANDOM LUMPS OF CLAY BEGONE!
Think of a save file like a lot.. the more objects in it, the laggier it gets! Try your best to remove anything or anyone unnecessary where you can.
Hit "Save As" instead of "Save" now and then - the more you overwrite a save, the more chance it has of going wonky, treat your game to a fresh one now and then and remove the old one from your saves folder (maybe don't delete it right away in case you wanna roll back, keep it somewhere safe).
If you can (although ik it can be a pain) set up a new/fresh save, you'd be surprised how bogged down old ones can get! For legacy players, it's usually best to do this whenever you have a small family to save yourself some pain, since you can just save the household and take em to a new save (you will lose sims inventories/household inventories/relationships with sims outside the household tho so beware! Pictures/other collectables can be saved to a lot however, and you can always cheat back relationship bits etc.. bit of a last resort but new saves are shiny and fast!)
Make sure your Screenshots/Video folders are empty - move em somewhere else, it works, trust me. If you have a lot of custom music installed try n' clear some of those out too.. the smaller that Sims 4 directory is, the better.
Delete any last exceptions/last crashes (same spot as your mod folder again) you don't need em unless you're planning to upload em somewhere for help.
Settings Etc:
If you get a bad lag spike, opening the main menu and/or saving can randomly stop this. If it doesn't, try exiting the game, clearing your localthumbcache and restarting.
Clearing all notifications from the game panel can also help.
If you can, close all other apps and background apps you don't need whilst playing, ts4 is super memory hungry so it can definitely help.
The GraphicsRules Override file by Simp4Sims can reduce lag/latency and make your game look a little better in the process!
Srslysims Simulation Lag Fix mod can help reduce lag too (if you've altered the game speed via mccc tho, don't use this unless you plan on resetting it to default).
If you aren't keen on, or barely use a pack, consider disabling it.
Not ideal, especially for those of us taking screenshots, but lowering the graphics settings whilst playing definitely helps.
If you use re/g-shade, consider switching it off whilst playing and only turn it on for screenshots.
A clean and tidy pc/laptop runs better in general. Remove anything you're not using/don't need anymore to free up space, remove temp files, clean up your folders now and again etc etc.. especially that dreaded mod folder, speaking of...
Managing Mods:
SORT OUT YOUR MODS FOLDER FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.. skdsjdjs it doesn't have to be immaculate but at the very least try n' clear it out now n' then. Also try to separate your script mods/overrides from the rest, patch days don't need to be so stressful ;-;
Personally, I don't merge my mods; if something breaks it's much harder to pinpoint! It makes it easier to find/delete specific mods too.. and let's face it, there's usually one or two items in that set you could do without lmaooo.. also, don't think it helps much tbh! Yeah you could say the game doesn't have to work as hard to load merged files but that's debatable, it's still the same amount of items/polys at the end of the day ¯\(°_o)/¯
If you like merging files and/or see results from doing so, you can merge stuff you definitely know you're never getting rid of, especially CAS/BB stuff.. but steer clear of merging gameplay/script mods! If a merged file seems to be the culprit when using the 50/50 method, try unmerging it and 50/50ing it again! You might not need to get rid of everything if something's borked.
Bulk Rename Utility can be used to remove all spaces and special characters from your mod files, the game doesn't particularly like loading those so it'll thank you.
The Sims 4 Mod Manager is a great way to sort through your mods, you can easily see, move and delete files from here (not great for build/buy, poses etc as thumbnails are usually missing, but great for CAS stuff). An extra hint with this that I've noticed is that if any of my mods get renamed with [D1] at the beginning after looking through them via the mod manager, it means it's a duplicate file so you can get rid.
I also use the Sims 4 Tray Importer to help me sort through mods. Simply save a sim/lot with any cc you don't want and find it in the importer, you can then go through all the cc in the cc tab and delete/sort it (I also use this to sort cc if a bunch has the wrong tags etc, makes it easier to find in my folders by saving em to a lot or w/e - it also spots duplicates which is handy).
It's a ballache, but the 50/50 method is tried and tested if you're having issues.
I like to keep an abandoned cc folder tucked away somewhere, that way you can remove mods willy nilly without stressing about losing them. If you change your mind, you can always grab it back!
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idanceuntilidie · 5 months
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Hii! Can i request yan cheater with male reader? I really like your writing, and I also love you sm! Have a nice day 💗💗💗💗
Thank you so much I'm gonna cry, I love you too!! Sorry if this is wonky, today was a very exhausting day for me mentally. I hope you enjoy anyway <3 come again :D i made the cheater male I hope you don't mind--
Yandere Cheater x M!Reader
Requests are open
TW: yandere behaviours, breaking and enetering, slightly digusting parts including human hair and organs.
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Ciaran was quite special. Very handsome, always surrounded by people. You aren’t sure if being with him was a blessing or a curse.
He swore he was yours only, but you can’t help but feel hurt when he is flirting with someone right in front of you. There are also times where his phone blows with notifications from different people. It hurt, your heart felt like it was shattering just to be put back and destroyed again.
But the last straw was when you got a message from one of his lovers, they got a moment ofweakness, they felt bad and spilled everything out in a long message. The cherry on top were screenshots and photos of them kissing each other.
You were sure this time your heart just ceases to exist. You cried a lot that day, not ready to face Ciaran. You packed his things and left them outside of the door.
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It baffled him how you would leave him just like that, it was just a small misunderstanding. It was, he thinks, just one time thing. You got just oh so boring he couldn’t take it anymore. He still loves you! He really does.
He missed your smile, your smell, how beautiful you looked in the rising sun when you just woke up. His heart squeezes in his chest. Another night spent waiting by your door, you won’t let him in of course, but he just likes to sit there, happily humming when he sees you through your windows. It became a routine, you never called the cops on him, which means you still must like him. Hope burned in his chest, and slowly the obsession for you began.
And he will get his little boyfriend back. You don’t feel safe in your house anymore, Ciarian gave up on sitting outside of your house yes, but now you can’t stop receiving messages and calls from random numbers.
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Sometimes the caller breathes, silently stuttering your name, sometimes even moaning. Calling you his little pretty boy and shit. It made your stomach twist. You called the police many times, but at this point they just don’t believe you because of your lack of evidence. Lazy bastards. You also began receiving gifts, your favorite food, drinks, clothes that fit you perfectly. There was well, one time where your friend was over and one of these gifts appeared, with a card attached to it. A box of chocolates.
You were very tired that day, barely keeping yourself awake, you told your friend to take it. They accepted gladly, and began to eat while you went to the kitchen to make some coffee for you and them, that's when you heard a shriek and gagging sounds. You ran to your friend and saw them pulling hair out of their mouth, there was some skin attached to it. Your friend threw up soon after.
So, after that incident their gifts landed in trash. You feared what you might find out in them next. You don’t feel safe here, but you don’t have enough money to move. So like a rational person, you took another shift. The less you are home the better. It turns out you were wrong.
You came back in the middle of the night, you were practically falling asleep while standing up. You took off your shoes and headed to the kitchen for a sip of water so you can head to bed. When you turned on the light you froze in place. A beautifully wrapped heart shaped box sat on the counter waiting. You swallowed, body moving on your own. The gifts never appeared inside of your house. Hell, they are getting bolder with each gift. As you got closer to the box, a foul smell filled your senses. It was sweet, a little fruity.  Your shaking hands hovered over the opening of the box, carefully lifting up the lid.
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Your scream echoed through the house, as you fell down to the floor. Inside of the box was a human heart, carefully placed and surrounded by your favourite flowers.
You felt a hand on your shoulder, and a warm breath on your cheek.
Ciaran.
Your breath hitched, you didn’t dare to move as his bloody hands wrapped around your shaking form.
“Did you like my gift? Only the best for my boyfriend, do you forgive me now? Look how much I have done for you.” He kissed your cheek.
“I forgive you for kicking me out, I’m a better man after all of this has ended you know? Now we can be together forever.”
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morallyinept · 7 days
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Home - A Joel Miller One Shot
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Summary: Joel returns home to you.
Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader, except that reader has hair and is prone to freckling in the sun. These are very small details briefly mentioned.)
Word Count: 1.6k
Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/Triggers: Nothing too heavy. Some angst and longing.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: I've had some terrible writer's block recently and the new season 2 Joel reveal has inspired me this evening. Thanks, Joel! 🥰
MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
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The swing hangs at one end of the rickety porch, a timeless piece that has seen many seasons and heard many secrets in your time here in the Jackson commune.
Crafted from sturdy oak, it’s varnished and smooth in places when you run your fingers over the armrests that curve gracefully at each end.
You remember his own fingers gliding over the wood as he sanded it, splintered and calloused, and yet strangely soft in the middle of his large palms when you’d rubbed cooling aloe salve into them after, whilst he'd planted a line of tantalising kisses on your shoulder and remarked on how freckled you’d gotten in the sun that afternoon.
You don't remember much else after that as his kisses had engulfed you wholly.
The thoughts cause splinters in your stomach lining and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing them not to creep into the jagged fissures of your hollowed bones. But it’s futile. The memories of him are everywhere you look.
Your gaze drifts to the haphazard wooden flower boxes, overflowing with vibrant blooms and herbs.
It was Joel who had planted them, his hands deftly tending to each delicate stem, leaf and petal as if they were his own children.
You can picture him kneeling beside the boxes, soil dusted over his denim clad thighs, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully watered each plant.
You think about the bed you climb into each night, noting the void in the space beside you where Joel's warmth and his presence once lingered. You can almost see the imprint of his broad body on the mattress, the indentation where he'd slept night after night with you curled into his body, leg resting over his hip.
You can still feel the heat from him as you'd wake in the night to find him practically draped over you.
The seat on the swing is wide and deep, designed for comfort and for sharing, for cuddling together on warm, balmy nights under the fraying, knitted blanket with wonky stitch lines.
You still hold it up to your nose, inhaling the last ebbs of his scent that haven’t been blown out the fibres fully by the breeze. But it’s fading fast and you’re worried that one day it’ll be gone forever, just like he is.
Strung along the railing and woven through the latticework, tiny lights glimmer around you like a thousand stars brought down to earth on glittery strings. Each delicate bulb emits a soft, warm glow, creating a cascade of golden light that flickers gently with the whispers of the night.
The cushions you’re sitting against, plump and inviting, have seen their share of tears. You’ve clung to them during sleepless nights, seeking the comfort they no longer fully provide. The smaller pillows, in warm tones of orange and gold, have been hugged so close to your chest as if they can somehow bridge the chasm of his absence.
The muted hues on the porch that echo the colours of the forest surrounding your home beyond the fences, mirror your fading hope, each day a little dimmer than the last.
You tell yourself that perhaps tonight will be the night, that he’ll emerge from the shadows like an ethereal spectre back to you, but you know, somewhere in your heart that’s been broken beyond full repair, that it’s wishful thinking. A dream with its shiny ribboned tether drifting so close, yet so far out of your reach.
You’ve often found yourself on the empty porch, night upon night, your heart heavy with the belief that he’ll return. Waiting... always waiting.
They've stopped coming now, stopped checking in on you. Stopped bringing baked goods, like they do when someone passes away. Leaving you to wilt and exist in your own bubble of enduring sadness and melancholy.
They said you should move on, like it's an easy thing to do. And a small part of you thinks that perhaps you should at least try. It's been too long.
You’d heard the rumours, whispers in the commune, of the men and women who never make it back, of the dangers that swallow them whole out there - even the strongest aren’t immune.
Joel, like many in the commune, had volunteered for supply runs, journeys that had become increasingly dangerous. The surrounding areas fraught with peril - raiders, infected, treacherous terrain, and unpredictable weather. Every time someone leaves for a run, there’s no guarantee they'll return.
You knew this. You knew the risk. So did Joel. The supply runs are a lifeline for the community, but they come with a heavy cost. Each departure is shadowed by uncertainty, each return a fleeting relief.
When Joel didn’t come back from his last run, the fear that had always lingered at the edge of your mind about him embarking on them, consumed you whole.
You knew the risks he faced, had heard the stories of those who never made it back from his own weary lips of close calls, and had seen the grief in the eyes of others in the commune who had lost their loved ones.
You were one of them now.
The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and the silence grew louder. Every creak of the porch, every rustle of leaves heightened your anxiety, making your heart race with the hope that it might be him, only to be crushed by the realisation that it wasn’t.
It never was.
Your nights were spent waiting on the porch swing that Joel built for you both to spend balmy nights in the summer drinking tangy lemonade and being cuddled up in his strong arms.
And he isn’t here doing that with you anymore and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to move on, or accept it.
You try to hold onto the minute flicker of hope that remains, but it’s fading fast, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of loss and the fear of what the future might hold without him.
Each day without word, each night without his voice, has chipped away at your hope leaving you empty and lost.
Tonight is no different; and when you find yourself dozing into the late night on the swing in a routine you can't seem to break, the cool breeze stirring you awake, you resolve to go to bed and spend another night alone reaching out longingly to his side of the mattress, wondering where he is.
You stand to go inside, shaking off the blanket, and a flicker of movement catches your eye through the shadows and startles you.
You freeze, your breath catching in your throat when you hear your name called softly.
You visibly pinch yourself, the sharp pain registering that you’re not dreaming.
There he is, standing where he used to stand, the same but different. His silhouette is a familiar yet foreign sight, the longer hair and the weary lines on his face telling stories of the time and trials he’s endured out there.
Your heart pounds as a flood of emotions surge through you - disbelief, hope, anger, relief.
Your hands are trembling. Your heart is hammering so loudly now that you can't hear yourself think or even call out his name on a broken chord. Your legs barely support your weight, and for a moment you feel time stop completely, it's drag heavy agaisnt your skin.
Joel stands at the edge of the porch, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle light on his familiar face. His hair, longer and wilder than when he left, brushes against the top of his shoulders in swept back curls, seeming more grey and dishevelled.
The breeze seems to whisper through it as if sharing foreboding secrets from his time away. He looks different, weathered and sunken in his stature. And you're harshly reminded that it’s been over a year since he’d walked away from this home, from you.
"You're back," you whisper, your voice breaking as tears stream down your cheeks.
He steps tentatively up on the porch, a low groaning creak rumbles out from under his boot.
You resolve crumbles, and you rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck.
He holds you tightly, his own tears mingling with yours.
The pain of the past year, the nights you cried yourself to sleep, the days filled with endless worry, all dissolve in the warmth of his tight embrace, and your heartbeats meld together as one under the gloaming lights around you.
Your fingers grip into the rough material of his jacket, and you inhale deep. He smells earthy, like the fragrance of fresh rain on dry earth. It carries with it the essence of the forest, of pine needles and damp soil, mingling with the crispness of skeletal autumn leaves.
"I thought you were dead," you sob into his shoulder, the words releasing a year's worth of grief and longing.
"I know," he murmurs, his voice choked with guilt. "I never stopped tryin’ to get back to ya."
His words carry the warmth of the Southern sun, the gentle drawl of his accent wrapping around the ruggedness of his tincture giving it a raw, unfiltered quality. It’s a voice that speaks of home and belonging, of wide-open spaces and endless horizons. Of survival and repentance.
It’s a reminder that he’s real, that he’s here, standing before you, alive and well. And yet strangely frail; wounded deeply by the experience of the outside world.
And as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his roughened cheek peppered with his greying beard, you know in that moment that Joel is truly home.
“What happened to you, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened out there?” You fire off clumsily, your voice shaky and breathless until Joel simply looks at you with those molten, sad brown eyes and you finally breathe.
"I'm okay, I ain’t hurt," he replies softly, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes never leave yours.
“I thought I'd lost you,” your voice is nothing more than a croaked whimper. “You’re really here?” You question dreamily, sinking back into his arms.
"M'here."
As you stand together on the porch, bathed in the gentle glow of the fairy lights, you finally feel a sense of peace wash over you.
And almost as if he can sense your bewilderment, your fear and frustration - your relief - Joel runs his hand through your hair, caressing your skull and cradles you closer into his chest. Alleviating your fears and confirming the unwavering truth presented to you, that he is in fact here. He’s home.
"M’home, darlin’."
Joel Miller has come back home to you.
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Thank so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story. If you did, I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤
MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST
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luveline · 8 months
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Omg ok Jade my love can I request a princess soulmate au with Steve? Where reader is Prince Steve’s soulmate but maybe she’s not royal herself and is struggling a bit with being the future princess?
Almost like similar vibes to some of the loser gf with rockstar Sirius things you’ve done
thank you sm for your request! (sci-fi fairytale au) prince!steve
cw talk of losing weight to fit into a dress 
Prince Steven sits across from you with a bowl of grapes and a pair of embroidery scissors. He's going to stab me, you think morosely. I'm wretched and boring and he's going to stab me and then the stars will give him another soulmate and he'll forget this whole misfortune.
He seems lost for words as you are, or uninterested. You think he's going to talk and he eats another grape instead, hair fluttering in the breeze that filters in from the balcony, his eyes trained on the holoscreen. He's pretty —soft face, softer hair, almond shaped eyes that seem perpetually amused— but more alarmingly, he's fit. Physically fit from years of sports. Royals do all manner of olympiad competition, evident in his toned shoulders and his sun-kissed skin. 
"How's your embroidery?" he asks suddenly. 
You startle, pretending you'd been attending to that rather than staring at him uselessly. "It's going well, Prince Steven," you lie. You've never embroidered before —you have practical sewing skills for darning scuffed trousers and patching elbows, but embroidery is a labour of time. Time is a luxury you haven't had. 
"Steve," he corrects. 
"Do I… Is it really okay for me to call you that? Won't people think I'm presumptuous?" 
"Ten dollar word." He slides the bowl toward you, a beautifully glazed ceramic piece that likely cost more than your month's rent. "Well, they usually let me have whatever I want, and I want you to call me Steve. And to relax. And eat more." 
"I can't. They said I need to fit into my wedding dress." 
"The wedding dress needs to fit you," Steve says, the simple cut of his button down pulled snug to his chest as he leans back in his chair. "Not the other way around. Is that why you didn't eat much at breakfast? Or was it just gross?" 
"It wasn't gross," you say softly. 
"You don't have to do any of that stuff, either, if it's boring." 
You run your finger down the creamy linen stretched between your bamboo hoops. "I don't know if it's boring. I can barely do it." 
"You're too mean to yourself," he says. 
Steve stands and puts his arm behind his head, pushing his elbow until something clicks. Embarrassed by his dismissal, you stare at your hands and fume at yourself when they begin to tremble. 
It's too much. All of it. The cruel Palace attendants who know you're not good enough. Steve and his good nature. The wedding dress, the fine China, your wonky stitches. 
Steve steps to your side. He holds out his hand, and you pass him your embroidery without meeting his eyes. Your mood worsens at the sharp slink of snipping, sure that Steve will cut your pattern from the sketch and tell you to start again. 
"Sorry, your white knot at the back was bothering me. Pass me a slimmer needle? I'll tuck it behind your stitches." 
Astonished, you pass Steve a smaller needle from the pin cushion. His brows creases gently as he works, rewiring the white thread with patience and efficiency. 
"There. It looks really nice, honey. You're a fast learner." He passes you the hoop. You take it a beat too slow and he either doesn't notice or doesn't make a fuss, chucking you under the chin softly. "Don't worry so much. I'll talk to Cordelia about your wedding dress, the idea that you need to fit into it like it's one size fits all is dumb. It's made for you. Like, what are they expecting?" 
"They're probably hoping this is all a big mistake." 
"Did someone say that to you?" 
"Nobody had to say it to me, I can tell from the way they look at…" Steve takes your face into his hand, effectively killing anything you'd been trying to say.  
He seems royal, then. Used to getting his way, maybe, the disapproving lining of his otherwise sweet eyes. You get a flash of a memory, the morning you'd been presented, Steve in his finery with his platinum crown like a beacon in brown hair, you in your best dress, embarrassingly drab in comparison, your hand offered. He'd been meeting with eligible women all week. 
You were there as a formality. Never for a second did you think your soul mark would react to his, lines of light around your opposite wrists. 
To think you'd worried about touching him. You could never imagine how beautifully careful he is, how tender. You didn't know men were like this until Steve showed you, his niceness apparently bone deep and in everything he does. 
"If people are being jerks, you have to tell me." You never imagined how casual and vulgar he'd be either. "What's the point in being a princess if people don't respect you?" 
"I'm not a princess," you say. Your heart is a hummingbird as he turns his hand and strokes your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. 
"You will be. Nothing can change that. You're going to be a princess, and you can do as much or as little as you want, because those dorks left me in charge and I say so. I can decree it, if that makes you feel better," he says, dropping his hand, the phantom of it lingering like static shock. 
"What if I'm not meant for this?" you ask quietly, shy but terrified enough to ask. 
"I was meant for you," he says, tone matching yours in timidity. His sleeves rolled up as they are, you can see the soft light of his soul mark taking a pink hue. "Right?" 
Your soul mark glows a gentle pink to match his. Because you and Steve don't know one another well, not yet, but the feeling is there, thrumming under the skin like a pulse. Not love, not not love, a glowing desire. A want to know him.
There have been moments where you wished he wasn't a Prince, but then there's no guarantee you ever would have met. 
"Right," you mouth, offering him a small smile. 
"We were meant to be together…" Steve bends at the waist, meeting your eyes. He's yet to kiss you in the week since you met, but his touches come braver everyday, the unfamiliarity between you melding into butterflies. His smirk shakes them awake. "So let's be together the way we want to. Think of princess-ing as optional." 
"And you as mandatory?"
"I'm also optional," he says with a warm laugh. "But dinner is not. I need to know what you like, if we're going to get married."
You practically gulp. Right. You're going to be his soulmate, his princess, and his wife. 
"Don't be scared. I'm not cooking it, chef Joyce is." Steve brushes hair from his eyes like a model from the giant holo screens, unaware of his own attractiveness. "I'm a shitty cook. My talents lie in other things," he drawls grandly, "like lacrosse, and neck massages." 
He winks. You laugh genuinely for the first time since you met him, and his face splits with glee.  
if you want to request anything for this AU please do! steampunk princess soulmate and her smitten prince is my new fave thing
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theminecraftbee · 7 months
Note
Also, shoutout to Impulse for getting stuck in two of those worlds in ONE DAY. Joe revealed that the recording for what we now know as vault hunters was also last monday. Impulse is really going through it.
Impulse sweats. For the past several minutes, Iskall has been staring at him and "hmmm"-ing for some reason. His only solace is that he's also doing it to Etho, but it's still making Impulse feel like he's got something weird on his face. That, or Iskall has suddenly and unexpectedly transformed back into his original villager state. One or the other.
He glances at Etho, who shrugs awkwardly at Impulse. He looks back at Iskall, who is still 'HMMM'-ing, increasingly furiously.
"Do you think he wants us to say something?" Etho asks.
"I mean, I guess?" Impulse says. "He could just ask."
"He's just going to keep humming at us, though," Etho says. "That's scary."
"Scary?" Impulse says, blankly.
"HMMMMM," Iskall says with an irritated expression.
"Scary," Etho confirms. Impulse sighs.
"Okay, I'll handle it. Hey, Iskall," Impulse says.
"Oh, I didn't see you there," Iskall blatantly lies.
"Right. You're, uh, sounding a bit concerned, buddy," Impulse says.
"Right, yes. Very concerned. Did you know you and Etho are already claimed? And, like, super cursed."
"Uh, I got a divorce with Cleo, you know," Etho says, completely straight-faced. "I'm a bachelor now. Not claimed by anyone."
"I'm not sure Bdubs and I ever got a divorce," Impulse says.
"No, no, not claimed like that! Claimed like--I did warn you all, yes? That my patrons would not like it if you came with other gods all over you? They get jealous of each other, let alone whoever you have... doing that to you."
Impulse and Etho glance at each other again. Impulse looks back at Iskall. "Yeah, I think I'd remember if I were claimed by any gods. I don't really... worship any, these days."
"If I worship any gods, Iskall, they're not the kind yours can do anything about," Etho says.
"What?" Impulse says.
"I mean, I'm old! I'm old, Impulse! I've met a lot of gods! Some of them I have opinions on!" Etho says.
"No, I've met yours too, they won't cause problems, yeah?" Iskall says.
"Thank goodness," Etho says.
"Sometimes I forget how old you two are," mutters Impulse. "That doesn't answer the whole... already claimed?"
"Yeah, like, it stinks off of you to me. It's like... you've got... someone's already claimed you to kill players, not mobs. And your health is all wonky. And you're keeping secrets or... kept secret? And don't even get me STARTED on how much time you have. All wrong. Who did you even find to do that to you?"
Impulse freezes.
"...the time was last season," he says, finally.
"Last season? What?" Iskall says.
"Yeah, that was--you know what, tell your gods not to worry about it," Impulse says. "I'm sure it's. Fine? Hey, wait, how can you tell?"
Iskall shakes his head like he's trying to knock something out of his ear. "They're annoying about it. Make whatever curse you're under go away while you're here or they're going to make it my problem. Mine! As though I can do anything about it. Go to the mortal world, they say. Bring your friends back here, they say. We want to meet them, they say. They're so annoying."
Etho, without skipping a beat, says: "Yeah, are those gods or the mother I saw last night?"
There's an ominous roll of thunder.
"Oh, definitely your mom," he says. There is a second, even more ominous roll of thunder happens, somehow entirely focused on Etho's location. Impulse decides to ignore it.
"I'll bother Grian about it," Impulse decides. He somewhat doubts Grian is a god--man, he really, really hopes Grian isn't a god, actually--but maybe he knows that Secret Keeper guy. That feels like the kind of guy who probably did this to them.
"Do that," Iskall says, and he wanders off to bother Stress.
Etho watches him go. "You know, maybe we should worry about the fact we're cursed because of the Life games. That seems, uh, bad," he says.
Impulse thinks about it and shrugs. "Eh, what's the worst that can happen?"
A long silence.
"Don't answer that," he tells the silence, before it can ominously thunder again. He knows the kinds of things that will lead to gods mocking him, after all.
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stevebabey · 2 months
Note
hi rubes!!! i was curious on ur thoughts on what a lazy sunday with steve would look like? esp if its one that like both ur day off and its smth that hasnt happened in a long time
hi angel!! sorry i sat on this one for awhile, i hope i made up for it by making it sooooo lovey dovey <3 0.8k, gn!reader
By some miracle, you're the first awake.
Steve is like a kind of sheep dog— he requires frequent exercise and so, he usually slips a run in the morning before you're even close to awake.
And also because of the shaggy hair and the way he seems to wag an invisible tail when all his favourite people are gathered in the same room, even going around and rounding them up, checking on everyone— Okay, you get the point, analogy over.
Actually, point is, you getting up before Steve like never happens.
Scratch that, you and Steve getting a day off to sleep in on the same day never happens. And even more, Steve very rarely skips his morning run because, y'know, sheep dog and all.
Basically, you figure this whole morning is a wondrous crafted little miracle. You have no plans to waste it.
Peering across your pillow, you watch the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he sleeps, your softened gaze roaming over his face gently. He looks younger in his sleep, pillowy lips parted lightly. His moles beg to be kissed. His hair is a mess. It's lost all its volume, lying flat against the pillow and urging you to run your fingers through it.
You ignore the urge in favor of slipping out from under the comforter. quiet as you can.
Steve's annoyingly good at spoiling you and is less than receptive to letting you return the sentiment. With one last glance back at bed, you let out a soft sigh, a honeyed noise, and head to the kitchen.
Steve's favourite mug is this wonky one that Dustin made once upon a time, some pottery class at one of his camps. You stare at it, glazed eyes taking in an alarmingly amount of detail on the cup, as the coffee brews behind you. Its scent wafts through the room. You've woken a dozen times to it, when it's Steve up and about, fixing a beverage for you.
It's cute, you think, that he still uses Dustin's mug for his coffee. By cute you mean, you can't think about it for too long or you'll stamp back down to the bedroom and kiss your boyfriend til your lips are blue and—
"Ooh, coffee?" Steve announces his presence with his words, partially garbled by his loud yawn. He halfheartedly covers his mouth, the hoodie he's haphazardly chucked on misaligned enough that it hangs over his hand adorably. He shuffles into the kitchen tiredly and despite his introduction, he heads right to you.
You can't resist a pout. Steve takes a moment to notice it, too happily distracted sidling up and worming his arms around your middle.
When he does, he tilts his head to the side. "What?"
"You couldn't let me bring it to you in bed?"
He grins. "I'm sorry. Was that the plan?"
"You know it was." You mumble grouchily, not upset at all. You push a hand into his chest, giving him a little shove. "You're always doin' this stuff for me but you don't ever let me do it for you."
Steve softens unbearably, his grin getting all gooey at the sides. He looks a little lovestruck, messy hair and all. It takes immense will to continue your upset facade. You nudge his chest again, your head inclining towards the bedroom.
"What?" His eyebrows jump, expression a mixture of incredulity and affectionate. "Y'want me to get back in bed? So you can come bring it to me?"
You smile, nudging his chest again and grinning when he starts to take a couple steps back, heading towards the bedroom. "Yes. Exactly that."
"You're absurd."
You poke your tongue out him. "You love it."
Steve moves forward abruptly, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans and steals a kiss from you. He retracts just as fast, looking far too pleased with himself.
"Yes, I do," He agrees, still wandering backwards. He disappears into your bedroom and you're left standing there with your own lovesick grin. God, you love him. Your heart feels like spun sugar in your chest, airy and sweet beyond relief.
To which Steve is no help at all when you walk into the bedroom, carefully holding the mug so it doesn’t spill. He's tucked back in bed, pretending to be asleep, only to wake with the grace of a Disney princess at your footsteps.
He faux yawns and pretends to jump at your presence, scampering to sit up in bed so he can accept the coffee from you. "Oh wow, what a surprise this is!"
"Shut up. You think you're soo funny, huh?" you mumble, handing the coffee over. Your aching smile gives away just how funny you think he is.
"Mmhm," Steve hums as he takes a sip. You've made it just the way he likes it. He parrots your earlier words. "You love it."
You lean in, mindful of the mug, and kiss him sweetly. He tastes of coffee and cream and he chases your lips for a second kiss when you pull back. You aim for tiredly amused but the words come out devastatingly sincere anyway. "Yeah, I do."
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hello, Dillo! Could I possibly get some headcannons or scenario (whatever you feel like writing) of a very bubbly, sweet, and awkward s/o that just- refuses to acknowledge they like Dally because they believe he'd never in a million years like them back? Like I'm imagining one day they're chilling with Pony and Johnny and they're not being as funny or playful like usual and the boys ask why and they just whisper "I wish I was Dally's type". So could I possibly just have something with Dally's reaction to it all?
if it's too specific or if you just don't feel like it, don't worry! <3
Not Into You
A/N: Hey, hey! This has been a long time coming, and I think it turned out sort of wonky and weird, but I'm kinda happy with it so I hope you are too! Please enjoy!
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“They said what?”
Johnny just shrugs and looks over at Ponyboy, shoving a few more fries in his mouth. The plate in front of him is almost empty already, the small pile of ketchup he’d squirted out almost gone too. Ponyboy shrugs too and takes another sip of his coke. They’re both acting way too calm for what they’ve told Dallas.
“I’m serious,” Dally repeats. “They said that? You’re not kiddin’?”
“Why would we lie about that?” Pony runs his finger around the rim of his glass, pushing the straw around as he goes. “Y/N told us they thought you could never like ‘em back because the two of you are so different.”
Dally chews thoughtfully on his own straw and leans a little farther into the corner of the diner booth. Johnny and Ponyboy look unfazed on the other side of the table, the latter doing his best to steal fries off Johnny’s plate without being caught. It doesn’t work and Johnny sends him a small glare. Ponyboy backs off and takes another drink of his soda.
“You’re bein’ serious, right?” Dallas asks again. “Cause if you’re not, I swear, I’ll kill the both of yous.”
Ponyboy rolls his eyes and Dally has half a mind to reach across the table and smack him upside the head. “We told ya we weren’t, alright? They told us yesterday when we were hangin’ out.”
Sighing, Dally stays in his seat and thinks over what to do next. Stark blue eyes trace the lines of the table and the logo on the side of his drink as he weighs his options and works on making up his mind. When he finally does, he stands up with a smug smirk.
“Where are you headin’, Dal?” Johnny asks. He swats at Ponyboy’s hand without looking away from Dallas when Pony’s fingers stray too close to his fries.
“To find Y/N,” he says simply. “I gotta tell ‘em they were wrong.”
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He finds them in the lot, kicking around a can that has definitely seen better days. They look smaller than usual. Shoulders drawn in, head down as they mutter softly to themselves. Dally starts to jog a little to cross the street and that’s when they look up. Their eyes find his and they seem to shrink a little more.
“H-hey, Dallas,” they stutter. One corner of their mouth quirks up in a smile that’s all too forced. “What have you been-,”
They’re cut off as the New Yorker reaches out for them, one hand landing on their hip, the other cupping the side of their face as he brings them close together, his lips landing on theirs. Y/N makes a surprised noise into the kiss but doesn’t pull away, so Dally counts that as a win and doesn’t let go. He’s pleasantly surprised himself when he feels their hands rise to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair and keeping him in place.
When they finally break up, they’re both smiling and breathing heavily.
Y/N looks a little lost, eyes wide and confused as they stare at Dallas, so he figures he ought to try and fix that. He leans in again and they meet him halfway and then they’re kissing again in the wide-open lot.
“You gonna explain somethin’ to me now?” Dally asks after pulling back. His thumb smooths over their cheek and Y/N leans into the touch faster than Dally thought they would. “Why in the world did you think I wasn’t gonna like you? And why did you tell Johnny and Ponyboy instead of talkin’ to me?”
Blushing, Y/N looks down at the ground but Dally gently nudges their face back up with a finger under their chin. He raises an eyebrow expectantly and the action gets a small laugh out of them.
“I just thought,” they started quietly, “that you wouldn't like me. We’re so different, y’know? I’m not really the kind of person you usually go out with. I figured you wouldn’t be into me.”
Dally rolls his eyes and pulls them into a hug, tucking their head into his shoulder. He rocks gently and squeezes them tight before dropping a kiss on their hair.
“You ever think about how none of the people I go out with ever stick around? You ever think that maybe since we’re so different we’d do well together?”
“I guess not.”
“We’ll maybe you should’ve, ya idiot,” Dallas chides without any anger or annoyance in his tone. “Maybe then I could’ve taken you out earlier.”
Y/N looks up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “You wanna take me out? You’re serious?”
“You don’t wanna go out?”
“No! No, I do, it’s just that- you’re serious, you’re not jokin’?”
Rolling his eyes again, Dally leans in to kiss them again, pausing to talk before he connects his lips with theirs. “I’m gonna take you out. Promise. But right now, I’m just gonna kiss you.”
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sashi-ya · 3 months
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𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻. Trafalgar Law x F! Reader
🌨 a/n: so I recently been to Austria, a country I often visit since it's literally like a dream. (plus, my mom knew she was pregnant with me there, so I was used to come back to Innsbruck as much as I could with her). But in any case I got inspired there to write this little fic, that might -or not- be a multi chapter one if you all like it. The place exists and the scam part, happened to me -kinda, the airbnb existed, but not as it was listed :P- but in any case, please enjoy and don't forget to leave some feedback if you want more~ ❄ tw: a very sfw story, that might evolve into something else if you want me to keep writing about their trip 😏 ☃ wc: 2.6k
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Hijacking for the first time, what could go wrong? Maybe everything, maybe nothing.
A two-month long trip all around Europe has found you on a little village of Austria. Your boots are cold, but luckily they are snow proof ones. Your skin all bumpy, your cheeks irritated. It’s been snowing all night, and despite the sun rising for now, some clouds in the sky menace with more white blessing to fall upon your shoulders very soon.
Those little mountain streets around the Alps are wonderful, they surround mountains going up and down and in a spiral way. But those are wonderful, as long as you can drive a car with heating. And you don’t have one right now.
The crunchy sound of the snow beneath your boots mix with the melody of a glacial river running in between the mountain and the road. It is certainly beautiful, the little rocks and stones being bathed by such pure and cold water, the rests of dry leaves and some moss growing on an everlasting shadow casted by tall, enormous peaks.  Everything is worth taking a picture, but you should prioritize your battery life this time around. The GPS is sometimes wonky, being that high can affect the service.
Many cars have passed by, but none of them have stopped. Little lorries carrying logs pass, cars completely drenched in dirty snow and that mix of salt that roads have during winters.
However, just when your hopes for finding someone to at least give you a ride to the next village were about to run out, the yellow shine of an old VW ban flashes before your eyes.
There, behind a curve -a very dangerous one if you ever went to the mountains- something smells like smoke and a tall man of white furry hat swears up to the skies.
You walk towards him, carefully. Who knows what is happening? Who knows who that man is capable of? There is one thing you are sure, however, and it is that this man is absolutely mad at his old van.
When peaking behind a dark wooden tree that’s now covered in spots of white snow, you discover the annoyed man is a young -handsome- one.
His van, a little rusty but still cute, seems to be having problems to keep going and the smoke coming from it shows it very well.
“Sir? Sir! Your van is catching fire!” you announce, realizing the smoke is indeed a very serious issue.
The guy of chocolate skin and tattooed hands turns around to look immediately at you and then to the back of the van. Those 70’s vehicles had actually their engines right in the back instead of the front.
And Indeed, you were right. Apparently the climb had been too tough for the poor old VW and its engine couldn’t take it any longer.
He quickly opens the back door, maybe searching for a fire extinguisher while you grab fistfuls of snow in an attempt to put down the incipient flames. Quickly enough, and with not many damages to count, the fire stops, and the only thing left is a big black spot on the back of the caravan.
“Thank you” he says, as dry as hopefully your socks. “No problem. What happened? Did the engine over heat?” you ask, curious despite his “I don’t want friends” face. “Yes; these hills are no joke. This never happened to my Polar, but there is always a first time…” he sighs, assessing the damage with a sad expression.
Apparently his van has a name; “Polar”. That’s very cute, and his eyes too. A golden shine in them looks even beautiful with the pristine white around. His tattoos do as well. You wonder about his name, and what is he doing on the road, but you are not sure if it’s proper to ask. However, he asks first.
“What are you doing here? do you have a car?” he mumbles, his voice is as attractive as he is. His eyes scan the place, but nothing catches his attention.
“No, I am actually hijacking. No one stopped so I started walking before the sun starts going down. I definitely got scammed; the Airbnb I was supposed to stay in didn’t, in fact, exist.
He grunts, almost silently. Apparently he is not happy with what happened to you but that’s it.
“Well, that’s so unsafe. I am sorry I can’t give you a ride right now. Apparently none of us have been blessed with good luck today” he says, walking around his vehicle with long legs covered in spotted jeans.
You nod. Your tongue is aching to ask about him, but you clearly catch the hint… he doesn’t want you there.
“Yep. Well, I wish you luck! I must keep going” “Same to you, be careful”
He doesn’t even look at you, something that makes you -somehow- very sad. In any case, you start walking away. There is no point in staying there… even if you have great mechanical skills that could help.
And as you do, you also have a very, very loud consciousness voice screaming at you on how could you leave him with no solution if you know it…
“Sir, you should check your water level…”  you shout, a few meters away from him. The sound of your voice echoes in the huge natural immensity of the Alps and his golden eyes finally fall upon you.
He stops moving for some seconds, lost in you. You, as well, wait for him to say something else. Something like “stay with me” or “don’t go”. A total stranger you want to hang up with. A total unknown woman he wants to protect.
“You know how to fix this?” “I do…”
Or so that was what you thought.  
No more than a couple of minutes took you to help him out. VW vans are noble machines; they are durable and easy to fix despite their particular design. And soon, as a part of your payment, the man that you learned is called Law and you drove away through intricate roads and huge snowflakes.
“Where are you going, (Name)-ya?” he asks, handing you an old cover from an old comic, Germa 66.
“I was supposed to stay for a couple of days in Bad Goisern, and then I thought of visiting Salzburg. I am on a long trip through Europe. What about you?”  you ask, cuddling with the blanket. A certain blessing for your freezing hands.
He nods, checking the breaks before going down the hill.
“I am too. I just graduated medical school and I thought of taking a little vacation before my residency starts. I’m going to be a surgeon. A cardiac surgeon” he tells, full of dreams he fails to cover up behind a tough guy expression.
You celebrate his success, and the next couple of hours become a ping pong of questions and answers. A smile on your face that leaves your cheeks hurting accompanies you until the sun hides and the little lights on the mountains start to scatter.
You didn’t want to go down in the first village, nor the second, nor the third. Law, didn’t want you to go down his van either. You named Salzburg, and he promised you to take you there.
But the night found both of you, and apparently your mechanical skills weren’t as good as you thought the would… Polar decided to stop, in the middle of nowhere during a dark, very dark winter night.
You close your eyes as the sound of rusty gears fail and Law’s annoyance grows stronger than ever. When Polar finally loses all of the power, Law manages to agonizingly park on the side of the road and a huge sighs escapes his lips.
You peak through your left eye; his DEATH tattooed fingers squeeze the wheel, and you know he will snap at any moment. But he doesn’t…
“I’m sorry. I thought- I-“ you try to give a plausible apologize, even though you had nothing to do with it.
“No. It is not your fault… it is mine- As we didn’t stop, I have completely forgotten to fuel Polar up” Law says, absolutely mortified for such stupid mistake. Apparently you were enough distraction to keep him from the basics of road tripping.
You breath alleviated and try to stop your upcoming laughter. Your grimacing did nothing to hide it, and a big burst of laughter took over the van and everything around.
Law looks at you pissed, but a soft smirk garnishes his lips. You can’t stop, perhaps it isn’t that funny… but you feel so happy right now. And you have no idea why, since you are literally stranded in a very dark wood with temperatures below 0C and snow pooling on top of that van.
“Welp, it’s ok. We should wait until tomorrow, then” you say, knowing the risks. “You- you prefer spending the night in here? aren’t you afraid of dying?” he asks, surprised.
“I am, in fact, scared of dying. That’s why I know very well I can’t walk during a snowstorm in the middle of the night in the Alps. Plus, you are too sweet to be considered a threat” you joke, searching for some chocolate inside your backpack.
Law narrows his eyes, deepening his frown. Apparently being called “sweet” and “not a threat” is not something he enjoys.
“I could cut you open and took all of your organs out during the night” he says, serious as hell. “Go for it. Don’t forget to steal my heart, doctor” you laugh, taking your jacket off.
Law is flabbergasted; he has never confronted someone like you before… but he is beginning to like it now.
A bar of chocolate that you had kept in your backpack for too long lays too close to his nose. You shake it, offering its sweetness to him.
He takes it but doesn’t eat it. Instead, his hand gets pressed against the window behind you. Law has pinned you against the door of your side. He is not a very muscular man, but he is indeed very tall and lean… if he wanted, he could do anything to you.
Your eyes widen, big as the moon. You swallow, thinking maybe walking through the forest might be a safer option.
“L-Law… I- didn’t mean to-“ you tremble, asking yourself where did you put the Victorinox blade you bought in Switzerland… it should be enough to defend yourself, right?
You notice his chest is also tattooed as his clothes open just a little. His arms, are too. His scent, despite the danger, smells deliciously tempting…
“Don’t trust strangers that easily, (Name)-ya” he whispers, a few centimetres from your lips. Letting you go after and biting the chocolate bar as if nothing has just happened.
You remain there, frozen up with your eyes widen and your lips softly trembling. He is, in fact, very right. Law is indeed a stranger, after all.
When oxygen finally begins to reach your lungs and brain again, you move and blink the dry eyes away. Silently you sit back, properly. You aren’t able to say anything, somehow you have run out of words.
You squeeze the blanket he gave you, covering you as much as you could, making yourself as tiny as possible on that old leather seat.
“Are you ok?” he asks, so nonchalantly.
“Ye-yes, I’m… ok” you mumble back, almost sticking yourself to the passenger door. “Is it ok if I go to sleep? I’m tired”
Law nods, confused. Maybe he was just joking around, but it did scare you big time. He goes down the van and opens the back doors. You look at him disappearing in the darkness until a very little glimpse of silver light coming from the moon filters through the doors.
But, soon after, fairy lights illuminate the back allowing you to discover a very cozy space behind the front seats.
“I am glad I installed this independently from the fuel tank. I have a little power generator for the back. It’s not a hotel bed, but it does the job” he says, showing you a precarious mattress covering the entire floor of the vehicle.
You smile softly, it looks cozy and pretty. The walls are full of random posters and maps, and there is even an old picture of a younger Law with three more guys wearing fancy hats with something written in the snow. You take a closer look at it, to discover it says, “Pirates of Heart” and you giggle. What a peculiar gang name.
“Law, this is really cute. You even have a lot of blankets and cushions!” you chime, easing a little bit.
“My best friend Bepo decorated it for me, I only helped him with the lights” he says, a little embarrassed.
You jump right back, leaving your backpack in the front seat and forgetting everything for the moment. What a reckless lover girl.
“I am going to sleep in the front seat, don’t worry. Use as many blankets as you need” he informs you, closing the back doors and leaving you there. You most probably were to say “no, stay here” but you simply couldn’t.
After all, this tattooed doctor is a gentleman. Right?
You let yourself rest for a bit on that improvised bed, with your sight blurring while looking at the fairy lights. The scent of the blankets and pillows is the same as him, something you secretly enjoy without even knowing. You catch a glimpse of the reflection of him sitting in the front through the back windows, at how he takes his hat off revealing a dark shade of onyx spiky hair.
For the next half an hour, or maybe less, you both become silent. The only sounds are the huge slaps of snow falling from the sky against the van and the subtle whistle of the wind filtering through the doors.
It is cold, but it’s probably colder in the front as Law is only using his Germa 66 blanket to cover up…
“Law? Are you awake?” you ask, shyly.
“Mh? Yes... why?” he asks back, with not much emotion but a soft tremble on his voice. He is probably cold, very cold.
“I feel bad for you; you must be freezing. There is plenty of room back here, you could sleep here. It’s ok with me” you say, taking advantage of not being in front of him.
Law takes a few minutes to move, but he ultimately does. He hops to where you are and sits there crossing his long legs. He is not wearing his black leather boots, so you can see Sora’s socks.
“Cool socks” you say, sitting right in front of him watching his cheeks go blushed. “Here, cover up. You are freezing, doc”
Both of you cover up with heavy blankets and fall into the mattress at the same time, facing each other.
Maybe, it is too strong to deny it. The attraction is natural, and you both can’t stop it… Exactly like the wind and cold reaching your skins.
“I am still cold” you mumble.
“I read in one of my books that the best way to keep the warmth of our bodies is to share it… skin to skin” he whispers, unable to take his eyes away from your lips.
“Is that so?” you breathe, coming closer to his embrace, allowing his arms to surround your frame and your hips to join with the other’s.
His forehead slowly touches yours, the bridge of your noses do as well. Your fingers, playfully but slowly, crawl to the crook of his neck. While his, squeeze your waist with delicate dominance. A leg that snake into the other’s, crossing, tangling…
Lips coming closer, so close. Breaths warming up, going faster and bumpy. Hearts that indeed had been stolen, the first kiss of two strangers, meeting for the very first time like two snowflakes join while falling from an endless sky
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWill they continue their journey together? 🦢
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moyokeansimblr · 5 months
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Patreon requests for @angelbeam19 🥳🥳 Sorry that it took so long. Also I don't know why two of my models have their eyes closed but they kept doing it so I gave up. Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla Cutout Shoulder Turtleneck, Plazasims Tharsi Outfit, Sixif Jolina Dress (in Elfdor colors), and Sclub Megan.
Obligatory mentions of issues, details and download below cut 'cause I ramble ⬇️
Plazasims Tharsi Outfit is AM only, comes in original 24 colors swatch included. It does not have morphs because they looked weird. I used the LOD 1 so polycount is aproximately 13k. It's sort of on the LBB bodyshape like you asked. It does have smooth hands anyway.
Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla Cutout Shoulder Turtleneck is AM only, comes in original 25 colors swatch included. Also does not have morphs because they also didn't look good. Also somewhat on LBB bodyshape, it's not super obvious. There's a fair bit of clipping and a couple random lumps and bumps that have wrong bones. I start going a bit cross-eyed with things this high poly (it's the LOD 1 and is still approximately 17k) because I can't tell which little tiny dot is which at that point 😅 I tried so hard.
Sifix Jolina Dress is AF only, comes in the 8 Elfdor colors you chose swatch included. Does have morphs! On e-neilan's bodyshape. Is... a little wonky. 😔 Because I used the LOD 1 for the other two clothes I did here as well not realizing I probably didn't actually need to and I didn't notice the holes and gaps until the end. Bones are a little strange... some of the roses warp when the sim moves her arms because of where they are. I was unsuccessful in fixing that. The off-the-shoulder thing in general gave me some trouble but I personally will use this so I hope it's okay. Polycount is approximately 9k.
Sclub 020923 Megan hair is AF and TF, comes in 15 pooklet/io/digi colors swatch included. Binned and elders go gray. Polycount is approximately 22k. This was my first time reducing polycount and I'll be honest I think I reduced it too much. There are a couple blips. But I was just so proud of myself for figuring out how to reduce that I didn't realize. HUGE thanks to @paluding for first pointing out I was missing half the mesh 😅 and then helping with the bones (also doing the teen mesh) ❤️ Anyway I've got 2 alpha hairs under my belt now so that's cool.
🌟 Plazasims Tharsi Outfit, Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla Cutout Shoulder Turtleneck, Sifix Jolina Dress, and Sclub 020923 Megan download on Patreon (FREE)
But please consider becoming a patron if you want to show me support or make requests! ❤️🙏 Any support is extremely appreciated and really helps me out!
And please don't hesitate to point out any problems or anything I missed. I'll do my best!
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entitled-fangirl · 24 days
Text
I hope I do.
Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!reader
Summary: The reader wants Barty to meet her parents. He could not be more worried.
Warnings: cursing. Daddy Crouch issues.
A/N: This was based on an ask!
Masterlist
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"I think you're overthinking this." Y/N stated.
Barty Crouch Jr. had been dating the beloved sister of one James Potter for over a year. 
Although she had been placed in Slytherin, nothing had changed in her family dynamic between her parents and brother.
Sirius and Regulus found themselves a little jealous.
Y/N reached out and grabbed Barty's hand from across the Slytherin table of the Great Hall. "Trust me on this."
Barty took a breath. "But I'm no angel, darling."
She leaned back with a small laugh, "They'll like you because I like you."
He nodded, but his mind was far from eased.
Regulus sat at the foot of his bed while half-listening to Barty's rant.
"I mean, her friends? Sure. Her brother? Yeah. But her parents? Parents… they're…" he paused his pacing in thought.
"Hard to please?" Regulus finished.
"Yes! Hard to please." He continued his stride back and forth. "The stress of pleasing your own parents is more than enough. But the parents of your future wife?"
Regulus' eyebrows furrowed, "Maybe don't start your introduction by saying she's your future wife."
Barty sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "You're right. You're always right. But, do you get what I'm saying?"
The youngest Black sibling nodded his head, "Especially if they're anything like James. Bloody annoying and brass."
Barty's eyes widened, "I didn't even think of that. Surely they're not horrible if Sirius is over there constantly."
Regulus shrugged, "He's just as thick headed as Potter."
The two laughed as his clever quip.
The laughter settled and the two were left in sudden serious silence.
"It's just," Barty sighed. "I already know I'm not good enough, especially for her. Blimey, she could have anyone in the world, and I was fortunate enough to be chosen. I already see that, Regulus. I can't take her father reminding me."
Regulus quit fiddling with his tie to look up at him, "That's what this is about? You're going in thinking they've already made up their mind about you?"
"It's Fleamont Fucking Potter! How could he not?"
A long sigh left Regulus' mouth as he stood up to get ready for bed. "You look the Dark Lord in the eyes every meeting, and you're scared of the Potters? J…Just talk to your girlfriend. I'm not qualified enough for this shit."
Barty didn't get much sleep that night.
"Stop messing with your jacket. You look fine." Y/N reprimanded as she fixed his jacket.
Barty's eyes were wide as saucers and his breath was shallow.
Y/N thought it was kind of cute.
"Is there… is there anything I need to know?" He asked quickly.
"Anything… what?" She asked confused.
"Any weird rules around the house? Any traditions? Anything I could do wrong?"
Y/N's eyes looked at him like he had two heads, "No."
"I mean that seriously, love. Any topics off the table? Does someone have a wonky eye I shouldn't stare at? You have to give me somethi-"
"Barty!" She laughed out. Her hands rested on his chest. "Take a deep breath. My parents will love you, alright?"
Regulus had a point. How could he look at Voldemort and feel nothing, yet two middle aged parents had him running for the hills?
"Are you ready?" She asked.
He nodded as he took a handful of floo powder. "I'm ready."
As he threw the powder down, the two disappeared in flames.
Their bodies appeared in the fireplace of the Potter Manor.
James was seated on the large sectional, and his heads snapped up at the sight. He smiled, "There you are. I was worried you two were too busy snogging to join us."
She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes, "Do you ever mind your own business?"
He shrugged, "No, not really."
"Where's mum and dad?"
He pointed his head over towards the kitchen.
Y/N grabbed Barty's hand and pulled him to the kitchen.
As they rounded the corner, Barty finally saw the faces with traits his beloved girlfriend had inherited.
And wow, was it now obvious to him how well the two Potter siblings resembled their parents.
"Mum. Dad."
The two fully turned and their faces lit up. Euphemia grinned and quickly walked to her, "Oh, hi, sweetheart!"
Barty wasn't used to such excitement when your own kids walks into a room.
Euphemia embraced Y/N tightly before pulling away to look at Barty.
Fleamont had leaned against the counter happily watching the exchange before his eyes too, found the boy.
Y/N turned, "This is Barty. Um… Mr. Crouch's son."
Fleamont's eyebrows raised at the mention of Crouch.
Barty felt like he could puke.
Here it comes.
"Oh. I see. Lovely to meet you, Barty."
Barty was so lost in his own mind that he barely registered the outstretched hand of Fleamont Potter. He blinked and reached out to shake it. "The… The pleasure is mine, sir."
Fleamont let out a small laugh, "Please. Just Fleamont is fine. I hate formalities."
Y/N turned to Barty, "That's where James gets it from, if you couldn't tell."
This actually made Barty let out a small chuckle.
Euphemia found her place next to Fleamont. "Our girl has said so much about you. I feel like we know you already."
That's weird, Barty thought. I don't feel scolded at all, yet.
Perhaps it would happen later.
Barty pulled out the chair for Y/N, who let out a small thank you, before he found his place next to her.
Though the table was large, he didn't feel intimidated as he sat there.
It was a nice change.
Fleamont sat at the head with Euphemia at the foot. Barty and Y/N sat together on one side, and James on the other.
Fleamont broke the silence, "Where's Sirius?"
James shrugged, "Washroom, I think."
Y/N's head shot up, "I didn't know Siri was here."
Fleamont grinned, "Oh yeah. You said the boys are coming over later, didn't you?"
James' grin matched his father's, "After supper, yes. We wouldn't miss watching the Quidditch Cup for anything."
Y/N sighed at turned to Barty, "It's just them yelling for four hours. Except poor Remus."
"Hey, Remus is fine." James butted in. "We feed him. He's not mistreated."
Y/N smirked, "Sure. That's what he tells you."
James cocked his head, "Oh really? And what? He tells you things?"
Y/N matched his energy, "Unlike you, he talks about his feelings."
Although there was bickering, no one raised their voice.
In fact, they seemed to be having fun.
Barty was slightly confused.
His eyes flicked back and forth, once moving to their parents.
The two rolled their eyes but held the widest grins on their faces.
They actually… could bicker for fun?
Sirius strutted in, "Sorry, Mum. Didn't mean to be late."
Euphemia smiled, "You're just fine, love."
Barty's eyes widened. Mum? He called her Mum?
His thoughts were interrupted by the continued argument.
"Remus doesn't have feelings!" James rebutted with a knowing grin.
"See? Now you just sound ridiculous!" Y/N laughed.
Sirius found his way in, "Hey! Remus is a ball of steel that lives off of sheer spite. Don't let him fool you!"
Y/N scoffed, "He's the most sensitive of all of yo-"
The two boys began to rebuttal at the same time, causing their voices to overlap.
"No, that's not true"
"Remus is heartless"
"You don't know him like we do"
"He's playing you for a fool"
Barty let out a small cough, and the entire table went quiet.
Sirius finally acknowledged his presence, "And why are you here, exactly?"
It wasn't rude. More, inquisitive.
But Barty took it the wrong way.
His head cocked to the side challengingly, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? What? Was James allowed to bring his boyfriend, too?"
His eyes grew wide and his mouth closed as soon as the last syllable was uttered, like he didn't know who said that.
He ruined everything.
How could he ever show his face around her family again?
As he began to spiral, Sirius' mouth slowly formed a grin.
And he laughed.
The entire table broke out into a fit of giggles.
Even Euphemia covered her mouth to hold back.
James laughed until he thought he would fall out of his chair.
Fleamont's laugh came out in a boom, much like James'. 
And Barty sat there in confusion.
He just couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Sirius wiped the tears that had fallen in his laughter and sighed, "I'll fucking give that one to you, Crouch. Merlin, you're much funnier than I thought."
And cursing was allowed?
There really were rules Y/N should have told him.
After dinner, the family was gathered around the muggle TV James had begged them to buy. Of course, it was enchanted to play the quidditch games.
Fleamont and Euphemia had their respective chairs.
All four marauders took up half of the large sectional and Barty and Y/N spread out on the other half.
Well, Y/N had.
Barty was uncomfortably stiff in his seat, but Y/N had taken the liberty to rest her head on his lap, and lay out on the rest of the couch.
And no one had thought twice about it.
Eventually, her legs grew tired and she sat up, "I'm going to fetch a drink. Need anything, Barty?"
He looked away from the TV to her, "No. No, thank you."
She nodded, brushing her hand across his shoulders when she passed by.
She had left him alone with them.
What does he do? What does he say?
He's in the Potter Manor with all four of the marauders and the Potters. By. Him. Self.
He let out a sigh.
"Everything alright, son?" Fleamont asked.
Barty's head snapped to him. Son?
Did he just say Son?
Oh, fuck. He said Son.
He just stared.
James reached over and elbowed him.
Barty snapped out of it. "Hmm?"
"He asked if you are alright, mate?"
"Oh. Oh. I'm just fine. Long day, is all."
Fleamont nodded with an understanding smile and turned back to the TV.
Barty was too lost in his thoughts to hear them cheering at the next goal.
Y/N smiled widely as she sat on her bed, "Well, I'd say that went fairly well."
"I don't want to do it anymore."
Her face fell, "What? Do what?"
Barty's mind was racing as he stood barely out of the doorway. "I can't do it."
She tilted her head, "Barty. Talk to me. What?"
His eyes were staring out of the window across her bedroom, "I don't want to be a death eater anymore."
Her eyebrows raised, "Oh." She wasn't sure what to do in that moment. She wouldn't push him. It was his decision, but she was too curious for her own good. "Can I know why?"
"Your father likes me."
She nodded in confusion, "He does."
"That's why."
"You… You don't want to be a death eater because my father likes you?"
He nodded as if it was obvious.
"Okay. Um… a follow up on that?"
Barty broke from his trance to sit on the bed next to her. "My… my father isn't like that. I'm always underachieving in his mind. But… I feel like I couldn't disappoint your father."
She shrugs, "It would be pretty hard to."
Barty's jaw clenches in thought, "If we ended up even close to as happy as your parents, I'd be the luckiest man in the world."
Now it was her turn to be lost in thought. "Really?"
He nodded. "Your parents love each other. And they love you. And James. And even James' friends for some reason. I want that."
She smiled and ran a hand through his hair, "Then we'll have it."
He smiled too and gently kissed her.
She pulled away with a laugh, "Regulus is going to be upset."
He pulled her closer with a grin, "Ah, he'll be fine."
Their lips connected again.
"Going so soon?" Fleamont asked.
"Oh, yes. He has to be up early tomorrow, dad." Y/N said with a smile as she walked Barty to the fireplace.
Fleamont nodded and walked to them, "I'm glad you could come over, son. I hope I get to see you around more."
Barty smiled widely, "yes, sir- uh… yeah. I believe you will."
Her father's smiles widened, "Great." And he disappeared into the kitchen.
Y/N had to practically push Barty into the fireplace cause he was so lost in thought. She placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll see you Thursday?"
He nodded, "Of course."
She grinned and stood on her tiptoes to place a light kiss to his lips. "I'll wait until then."
He smiled, "Goodnight, love."
James' head peered around the corner with a teasing grin and a dramatic tone, "Goodnight, darling. My one true love! I wait in agony until I see your face again-"
He was interrupted by Remus' hand yanking him back into the kitchen.
Y/N let out a sigh. "You'll get used to that one day."
Barty smiled, "I hope I do."
…........................................................
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al-of-the-stars · 2 months
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could you maybe do one where reader helps Lucifer cope with depression (and maybe losing both of his wives 😓)
"Please Don't Go"
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A/n: Hi! I tried my best on this one but it isn't that good. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!
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Lucifer had days where he didn't feel like he could do anything. On those days, he was glad that he had a partner who was willing to help. On the days where he felt numb, like the world just stopped, you were always there. But the thoughts in his head wouldn't stop circling. What if you would betray him like all of the angels in heaven had? What if you left him? Knowing his track record, it wouldn't surprise him. The only people he loved all left him eventually. No matter what, it was impossible To get rid of all of those thoughts but you being there, taking care of him, and giving him the love he had been desiring for hundreds of years definitely calmed him down. You had left the room to get him some food and water while he was curled up under the red silky blanket. You walked into the room holding a tray of food and water.
“Luci! I'm back! The pancakes look a bit wonky, hope you don't mind!” you said, walking closer to where he lay on the bed. He had tears rolling down his face. You quickly put the tray on the bedside table and held his face gently. “Hey, are you alright?” You spoke as you wiped the tears off of his face.
“Y/n…”
“Yes?”
“Are you.. are you ever going to leave me.. like they did?” He said sadly. Although he didn't say their names, you knew exactly who he was referring to. Your look of concern turned to one of alarm
“What? Of course not. I love you, Lucifer.. I wouldn't trade this for the whole world,” you hugged him tightly.
“Really?”
“Of course, Love”
“I love you”
“I love you too”
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merotwst · 2 years
Text
ONE SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD TIED ME TO YOU ! ‹ . second years›
· drabbles
⇝the moment they knew it was you and had always been you.
[ n: ellie stop writing things whenever she listens to taylor swift challenge ; not proofread very wonky ]
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riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›
riddle knew you were the one on the night he came back to his dorm, extremely exhausted. it was around the weeks leading up to the VDC festivities and riddle was in charge of the event. it frustrated him that things weren't going as smooth as he wished. there was just too many things to do at the same time and he was only one person. he was grateful for the help trey and other students would give him, but in the end, most of the responsibility still fell on him and he was tired. the housewarden opened the door to his room, the feeling of fatigue creeping into every last muscle of his body. he stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing by his bed and fluffing up his pillows. you turn to look at him, acknowledging his presence with a lovely smile, "welcome back. i let myself in, i hope you don't mind," you said as you turned to a table that had a tray of prepared tea, biscuits and his favorite strawberry tart, "take a break, riddle." and that was when he absolutely knew it was you.
ruggie bucchi ‹ savanaclaw ›
"what are you doing?" ruggie asked one night, emerging from your bathroom at ramshackle with a towel lazily draped on his shoulders to keep his hair from dripping onto the shirt he just changed into. you were sat on the floor of your room counting pennies and thaumarks sprawled in front of you. the hyena padded across the wooden floorboards, hearing the old wood creak under his weight before reaching the area you were seated in. you leaned against the bed as he squatted down to further observe you and whatever it was you were up to. "352 thaumarks in total." you said and it made him perk up. his expression contorted into a smirk and ruggie cheekily grinned, "is that all for me? i won't say no." he wasn't expecting the excited grin plastered on your face when you looked up at him, expression bright and eyes twinkling with excitement, "it's for both of us." no words could express how his breath caught in his throat when you pulled out a savings jar with the words 'ruggie + y/n's after graduation funds'. that was the very moment ruggie knew he didn't want to spend his life with anyone else but you by his side.
jade leech ‹ octavinelle ›
the vice-housewarden was no stranger to working overtime. mostro lounge was a busy place and jade always seems to have everything under control whether it be a sudden unprecedented influx of customers, or floyd's random bouts of mood swings—you could count on jade to smooth everything out so effortlessly. well, not like jade minds as much. he likes his job, even if sometimes he ends up all alone at the kitchen and finishing up cleaning the last of the plates at 10:05 in the evening after another busy day of serving, not only students, but visitors from outside NRC. after all, it was the annual inter-dorm spelldrive competition again so this was to be expected. what he didn't expect however, was to see you on one of the seats at the lounge. your eyes were droopy and your head was bobbing up and down, desperately trying to stay awake. jade gently placed a hand on your shoulder, making you jump a little in surprise and eliciting an amused chuckle from the moray, "may i ask what you're still doing here? i was under the impression you'd already made your way back to your dorm." jade stated and you let out a yawn, "i wanted to wait for you." you stated drowsily. it was such a straightforward answer, but one jade didn't get as often. he was used to people going on ahead like floyd or azul. he didn't mind letting then go first on almost anything. jade leech was like a shadow who preferred to sit and observe rather than to do. and so when you gave him the response that you did, he didn't know what to say. he always stayed back alone, on his own accord. and now, knowing that you didn't want to go on ahead—that you wanted to stay and wait with him cemented you a special place right in the middle of his heart for all of his life.
floyd leech ‹ octavinelle ›
we all know floyd leech didn't like anything boring. anything mundane would just annoy the living fuck out of him which inevitably results to him acting out and getting himself into trouble because in his little screwed up moray mind, trouble is equivalent to fun. the day he saw you emerge from the cafeteria with a piece of bread in your mouth and grim by the collar while you ran for your life being followed after by half a dozen savanaclaw jocks who did not look pleased, everything went slow motion for him. you looked absolutely majestic running for your life. what did you even do? steal their bread? did someone put you up to this? whatever, it doesn't matter. whatever it is you're doing looks fun. and when you were about to rush past him and you grabbed his wrist, inevitably getting him involved in the whole situation, floyd was dead set head over heels for you and at that moment, he wouldn't trade you for anything else in the world.
azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›
the day azul realized you were the one for him was on the day he got sick. he cursed his stupid frail human form for making him miss out on more potential profits that day. and normally, jade was left in charge in his absence but not today as these were one of the days jade took time for himself. he would be nowhere to be found on flat ground as he would be on some mountain doing god know what with gathering whatever mushroom he finds. the housewarden wasn't a fool. he knew when to take a break, but he couldn't very well leave floyd in charge. that's just asking for trouble. when you walked in just in time, the relief that washed over his whole body was so obvious that it offended floyd. the rest of the day was him staying in bed, trying to get his mind off the lounge, completely entrusting it to you. he didn't appreciate floyd banging on his door going, "you gotta see what they're doing!". the panic that overcame him suddenly morphed into butterflies as he watched you take charge. your voice, strong and you knew exactly what to do and what to say and it looked so flawless that he was mesmerized. shut up floyd. he wasn't staring. but he was definitely thinking up ways to propose to you in his mind someday, that was for sure.
jamil viper ‹ scarabia ›
jamil didn't have a lot of free time. but if he did, he would either be found spending it for himself, or with you. one of these nights in particular was a bit tamer than most because kalim had a packed day of doing whatever is is kalim liked to do. the heir seemed quite tired upon returning back to scarabia dorm and jamil, being the sly, scheming motherfucker he is, took this opportunity to get his master to bed early so he could have more time for himself. fortunately, kalim didn't really have much qualms on the matter and was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow much to jamil's pleasure. the vice housewarden returned to his dorm room where he last left you and the sight of you holding one of the maps he kept greeted him upon his arrival, "what are you looking at?" he asked as he closed the door. you looked up from the map with a grin, "let's make a travel road map!" you exclaim, grabbing his arm and pulling him to sit on the floor, "for when you're going to travel someday. i'm surprised you don't have one made yet." you said and he was dumbfounded. sure he'd thought of making on himself, but that could always wait another day. he didn't want what rare time spent together you had to be spent on his own silly dreams. you didn't budge. and as you uncapped the marker in your hand and opened up one of his many travel guides, his heart was overflowing with every positive emotion he could think of. whenever you put him first, it just always feels like he's some sort of champion. you were one of the best things that happened in his life and he will never let you go.
kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›
kalim falls more and more for you everyday and that's no secret. but the day that really sold it for him was when he came back to his room after a rough day. kalim had a hard time admitting it, but he had his insecurities as a housewarden and sometimes he felt those negative emotions just creep in and he falls into a bit of a gloomier-than-usual mood. he's still a bright ray of sunshine, but of course, there's a significant change to his tone of voice when you talked. the way the boy's eyes lit up when he saw the whole blanket fort you built the second he entered his room. his smile reached all the way to his eyes as he dove right into the pile of pillows, giggling and smothering you with kisses, hearts practically bouncing off both of you. you were an angel. and unlike the others, he'd be the one to verbalize what he's thinking and say, "i'm gonna marry you someday."
silver ‹ diasomnia ›
the day silver realized you were the one for him was the day he fell off his horse during equestrian practice. dozing off on situations like that can tend to send someone to the infirmary. and as if the earful sebek had given him wasn't enough on the field, sebek wouldn't stop talking even after silver is already laying on one of the beds in the infirmary away from the horses. he didn't want to be rude and tried his best to stay awake as the other diasomnia student kept talking about something along the lines of honor and waka-sama, he didn't know. everything was starting to get jumbled. when you walked into the infirmary, rushing to his side and gently asking simple inquiries about his situation and what events led up to them, sebek still tried to butt in the conversation. silver didn't really mind it as much since he was used to his dormmate acting this way, but you weren't having it. all the drowsiness left his body when he watched you practically drag the first year by the ear and kick him in the hind out the infirmary door, "had enough of your bullshit, sebek!" and normally, he'd say that wasn't a very nice thing to do, but when you made your way back to him, switching onto a more gentler tone and kissing his forehead and telling him to get some rest, he couldn't deny the fact that it felt good to be one of the only few people you were this soft to. the way you were so gentle with him made him feel like he could lower his guard around you. he felt safe around you. you weren't afraid to stand your ground either or stand up for others and he respected that. silver was in love with you and would never want to lose you. his only other wish is you to be more nicer to sebek as well...
©merotwst 2022
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