#Seriously though folks need to chill
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Etoiles: Oh, finally we had a funny moment in Purgatory, let's go. Oh, let's go! One week of wait to have a funny moment.
Roier always knows the best way to diffuse a tense situation.
#Roier#Etoiles#Tubbo#QSMP#Soul Fire#Team Bolas#Red Team#Blue Team#Everyone (fans): *screaming and taking things way too seriously*#Roier: Hold my beer#Seriously though folks need to chill#It's just a gameeee treat it like you'd treat a sports game#it's ok to cheer on your team just don't send hate to other fans or ccs that's so silly#November 14 2023#Context: everyone was arguing over items and taking stuff off bodies (again)#All our perspectives are biased based on the people we watch and that's fineeee be chill#it doesn't matter who's ''more morally correct'' they're in purgatory#what matters most is what's entertaining AND MORE IMPORTANTLY: if they're having fun#Purgatory
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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ִֶָ mullet!stan pines x farmer's daughter!reader ♡༉‧₊˚.
honestly idk what happened i just wrote this in like 40 minutes because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, i never write this fast sorry for the random but i love that dynamic 🤍
Gravity Falls market days were a real mess you’d grown up in but never quite adjusted to. the sun sat high and too mean, slanting golden light across the rows of wooden stalls and voices carried sharp over the sound of shuffling feet. you didn’t mind the noise because it made the hours feel faster.
your hands worked quickly, sorting the last of the peaches into the old wicker basket, as you clearly remembered your mom’s words “don’t bruise the fruit, honey; folks don’t buy what looks spoiled.” you smoothed your palm over the fabric of your overalls, standing up straight to greet the next customer and—
he wasn’t what you expected and you weren’t sure what to make of him. broad shoulders under a faded red jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets, huge dark bags under his eyes. he looked rough, unpolished you'd say, like he’d stepped out of a life far removed from your quiet one and found himself here by accident.
he nodded toward your baskets. “how much for the peaches?”
you sized him up. “depends,” you answered. “you actually gonna pay?”
that caught him off guard, did he really look that bad? his lips twitched into grin. “didn’t know this place came with an interrogation.”
“it’s not interrogation,” you shot back, leaning against the edge of the stall. “it’s just business. besides, you look like the type to run off with free samples.”
he laughed then. “well, guess you caught me,” he held his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. “but im starving here. what’s it gonna take to get one of—”
“ahh, you must be the scientist everyone talks about.” you interrupted him, shifting the basket awkwardly against your hip.
“uh right, that's me.”
“mom mentioned you,” you continued, even though he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. “said you were. . . weird.” the word came out of your mouth before you even realized it, and your cheeks instantly flushed. great. off to a fantastic start.
but he didn't seem offended. on the contrary, he looked amused, slightly raising his eyebrows. “weird, huh?”
“her words, not mine,” you explained quickly, though it wasn't exactly untrue. “but yeah. she said you moved out here to study something? bugs? dirt?”
he chuckled. “somethin’ like that. but im pretty hungry. so what’s it gonna take to get one of those?”
you should’ve turned him away, told him to come back with cash like everyone else. but your gut told you he’d actually gone a little too long without a decent meal. yeah, thats how bad he looked.
so you reached into the basket and handed him one.
“on the house,” you said.
he blinked at you, caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion. “seriously?”
��just this once,” you warned. “but if you come back, i expect full price.”
“aww, isn't that adorable, thank you, sweetie.” he took the peach, turning it over in his hands. “heard people here mentioning you're generous girl.”
...
the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as you ride your bicycle down the lonely country road. the day has been long, filled with selling farm food. your hat shields your face from the fading light, but a chill is settling in as the evening approaches.
the basket on your bike rattled with what was left of the day’s haul, less than you’d hoped for but enough to keep the house running another week. your legs ached from pedaling though. the cold was creeping in now.
when the headlights appeared behind you, cutting through the soft twilight, you almost didn’t notice. but then the car slowed, pulling up beside you and you heard the window roll down.
“need a lift?” a smoky voice asked.
it was him. Stanford. the same red jacket, the same grin. he surely hadn’t been expecting to see you but was damn happy about it anyway.
you hesitated as you looked at him and his car, tightening your hands around the handlebars. “and leave my bike?”
“throw it in the back,” he told you, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. “unless you’re real set on freezing out here.”
you glanced at the empty road stretching ahead of you, then back at Stanford. he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer something for nothing, but he also didn’t seem like the kind to push it if you said no.
so you nodded. Stanley gave you a reassuring smile. “hop in, toots. it's getting cold.” you let him haul the bike into the back before climbing into the passenger seat. the warmth from inside is immediate, a stark contrast to the cool evening air.
he didn’t say much at first, just flicked on the radio and kept his eyes on the road. but then, without looking over, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you.
“here, take this. it’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm.”
you took the fabric and when you putted it around your shoulders, you felt the softness of it against your skin, grateful for the gesture. “thank you,” it was too big, the sleeves hanging loose past your wrists, but it was so warm. although it smelled very strongly of cigarettes.
he shrugged modestly. “no problem. it’s the least i can do after the way you treated me last week.”
“so,” he said after a beat, glancing over with that same crooked grin. “what’s a farmer’s daughter doin’ out on the road this late?”
you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “work doesn’t stop just ‘cause the sun goes down.”
“hard worker, huh? guess your mom was right about you.”
you glanced at him in surprise and furrowed your brow. “you keep bringing up my mom like you actually know her.” you said suspiciously.
“ran into her a couple weeks ago,” he admitted. “she was real proud, talkin’ ‘bout how her daughter’s the backbone of the farm.”
heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your gaze back to the road. “she talks too much.”
“nah, she’s just proud of you.” this time, you stayed quiet, letting the hum of the engine carry you the rest of the way home.
...
the next time you see him, it’s at the farm on early morning, when dew still clings to the grass and the sky’s a pale, watercolor wash. you’d barely had time to start on your chores when that same old car rumbled down the dirt track.
Stanley stepped out, wearing that red jacket you’d given back last night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you forgot your bike.”
“you didn’t have to bring it all the way here.” you smiled shyly
“well,” he glanced around, assessing the place, “figured you could use it more than i could. besides, wasn’t much of a detour.”
in addition, it was the first time Stan met your dog as he stayed at the farm to try the freshly baked apple pie that you offered.
you were hauling a basket of fresh vegetables from the field when you heard a low, warning growl. you looked up, biting back a grin. “she won’t bite.”
“uh-huh,” Stan said, standing frozen in place as the big scruffy mutt circled him.
you set the basket down, whistling low, and your dog trotted over, tail wagging now that you’d given the all-clear. “this is Molly,” you said, ruffling her ears. “dont worry, she’s just protective.”
Stan crouched slowly, one knee to the dirt, sticking his hand out like he was afraid she might lunge. Molly sniffed him once, then pressed her head against his palm, tail thumping in approval.
“well, look at that,” he said, scratching behind her ears. his hands are so big, calloused, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. Molly leaned into his hand, letting out a pleased huff. “she likes me.”
but then Molly rolled over, flopping onto her back in the dust and he laughed. “spoiled,” he said, rubbing her belly as she wagged her tail.
“you don’t even know the half of it. she gets the best scraps off the table. mom says it’s why she’s got such shiny fur.”
Stan grinned. “lucky dog.” oh, how he wished he could be in Molly's shoes. to be needed at least by someone, to be taken care of, to be fed. “so, you sellin’ this week?”
you nodded, but your gaze drifted toward the fields. there was still so much work left to do, rows and rows of crops waiting to be picked and sorted. you sighed, already feeling the ache in your arms.
Stan seemed to catch on. “well, if you’re ever lookin’ for extra hands, i know a guy who owes you a couple favors.”
...
you don’t know why you start bringing him food. it’s not like Stanley asked for it and he’s certainly not the kind of man who’d admit if he needed it. but you, the sweetest girl in town, noticed how he looked that first day at the market, hunger written all over him like and that makes it impossible not to.
it started with a couple of peaches tucked into a paper bag which you carefully left on the counter of the Mystery Shack with a quick, “thought you might want something fresh.” but then it grew into a jar of honey. then. . . in a bundle of wildflowers tied with twine.
one day, you showed up with a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm, wrapped in an old tea towel embroidered with little sunflowers. Stanley was tinkering with something behind the counter, muttering something about journals but when he saw you, he stopped, wiping his hands on his pants.
“you know, you don’t have to keep bringing me this stuff,” he said even as he took the loaf from your hands.
“i know, yeah, but you’re always here, and I figured. . . well, everyone deserves a decent meal now and then.” he looked at you for a long moment, longer than felt normal, trying to figure out if you were pulling some kind of trick.
“thanks,” he said your name. “that means a lot.”
and it becomes a thing, fresh eggs one day, a loaf of bread the next. you don’t stay long when you drop them off, because Stanford always says he's kinda busy here, dealing with some of his "scientific research”, so you quickly greet him, maybe say some comment about the weather, but every damn time he sees you, his face softens, genuine smile appearing on it, his shoulders relax too. maybe you’re not just bringing food but something else he’s been missing.
and sometimes, Stanley feels too lonely, so he pulls out an old chair and offers you coffee, the two of you sitting on the porch while he tells you about his life.
#gravity falls#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#x reader#gravity falls smut#stan pines x reader#stan pines smut#stanley pines smut#stanley pines x you#stan pines#young stan pines#stanley pines x reader#stanley pines#mullet stan#mullet stan x reader#gravity falls fanfic#gravity falls headcanons
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In the spirit of being premenstrual and irritable, what do you think would be the cause of the LaDS and MCs first serious argument and who would snap first?
For Zayne, I believe it would be MC getting injured and Zayne being fed up with her "reckless" behaviour fighting wanderers. Even though he knows how capable they are, it's borne out of worry.
Xavier is so chill, I can't imagine him being angry even if MC gives him a Pennywise makeover while he snoozes and says nothing as he walks down the street looking like nightmare material. What would set him off, though? MC eats the last hotpot?
Sylus would snap because MC threatened to set him on fire one too many times lol
And Rafayel... The clouds aren't the right shape? MC cuddled her plushies more than she hugged him? The list of possibilities are endless with this dramatic fish boy, but what would make him really angry and not just pouty?
Hello again friend! Arguments with the boys I feel are rare, mostly because all of them seem to communicate well for the most part. Take all of this with a grain of salt as I am not an expert!
Zayne is kind of a no brainer. The first serious argument would be over MC’s reckless behavior during a mission. It would start as a stern “talking” to as MC’s doctor to which MC just blows him off. It would turn into a major fight because MC does’t take how serious the situation could’ve been. I don’t think it reached screaming match but the folks at the hospital do start to worry about the tone of his and MCs voices. Obviously Zayne is going to continue to be concerned for her health so she instead has to do a bit of work to understand where he’s coming from and be nicer when he does lecture her on her health.
Xavier is a tricky one cause I don’t think the thought of an argument is even possible for him. If anything it’s MC who is upset with something and lashes out. It’s because of his easy going nature that makes MC even angrier. Eventually they talk it out but yea an argument between these two will be because he hardly ever expresses his own emotions and goes for soothing and problem solving first.
Sylus would have an argument with MC about not taking the dangers of the N109 zone seriously. It would be something MC sees as not that deep but he would be quite upset at how little she cares about her well-being. Again not a yelling fit but you both don’t speak to each other for a few days after. Eventual apologies occur and then a discussion on how dangerous the N109 zone really is and reaching an agreement where MC can protect herself but not be smothered by Sylus’ need to be in control.
Rafayel early into his relationship with MC would have some small disagreement that he just harbors on for a while. He just kinda disappears for a few days and when he does resurface the issue has only gotten bigger. It would be a very tense and heated conversation for quite a while before both of them come to an understanding. After that, they both bring anything that bothers them to each other right away and hash it out.
Yea this stuff is not my forte but I tried 😭! I love angst but I’m so bad at it. I hope I did this some justice!
My ask box is open! Send me your NSFW head cannons/thoughts/confessions about the LADS main 4! I might even write some of them up!
#nellyspeaks#lads mc#lads x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds#lnds#lads#love and deepspace scenarios#lads zayne#lads xavier#lads sylus#lads rafayel#zayne love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace rafayel#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#sylus x reader#rafayel x reader#zayne x mc#xavier x mc#sylus x mc#rafayel x mc
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Haywire
Contains: Eddie Munson & Reader, fluff, sincerity, vulnerability, friends to something more
🦇 ✏️ 🦇
You were just friends. Just hanging out. And you’d thought there would be more people around tonight as human buffer BUT NO it was just you and him in his living room. And he was sitting so close it made you dizzy.
Ope.
He caught you staring. Your gaze was lovingly drifting over his stunning features and when he noticed you looking, his eyebrows shot up.
He waved his hand in a slow figure eight, wiggling his fingers - like he was casting some sort of spell on you.
Maybe he was casting a spell on you? It would explain a lot.
“You okay in there?” He laughed. He snapped the fingers of his left hand a couple times and you must have jumped because then he snorted “Sorry, sorry! You zoned out, though...like...you left me, where’d you go?” He grinned at you, head cocked to the side.
“I’d never leave. I mean I’m paying attention, What is the next step?” You asked, trying to re-focus and NOT on his lips, or his jaw, or the length of his thick pretty neck that you so wanted to kiss and lick and bite down on …oh gawd... how you wanted to taste him all over!
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Ya sure you wanna do this? Right now?? It’s okay if you are bored. This is not the fun part for most folks.”
“Yeah! NO - I’m not bored.” You clutched your notebook to your chest and regulated your breathing. No more yelling FFS you told yourself. ” I told you - I’ve wanted to play DnD for a long time and you know… never got a chance to even roll up a character. The stars just weren’t aligned for it I guess and the group near me didn’t want me in the mix....”
“Well, that’s not a problem here. There won’t be any of that bullshit on my watch. There’s Equal opportunity for doom or glory in Hellfire Club.” Eddie let the words doom and glory rumble in his chest. Theatrical as ever.
“Thank you.” You smiled and felt heat flush your cheeks.
“You’re so welcome, you always are.” he shook his mane of hair and chuckled again, wry and self-effacing. Which you would NEVER have expected from this guy. When you were introduced to him he was cocky as hell, strutting around and getting right into your personal space and teasing you like you’d been close friends forever and then - you get him alone like this- and he transforms into this sweet and modest and shy… total gentleman.
You were so completely fucked.
I mean, if only. You wished you were. But this was all so sadly gentlemanly and platonic.
He licked his lips and tapped his pencil on the DM’s guide while he pondered something seriously. Your mouth watered. And since he was so intently not paying attention to you- you took him in - looked him all over.
Your lips felt suddenly so dry and hot and his lips were the cure for every little thing that afflicted you, you knew this. That his perfect lips were the Answer. They were pink, slightly redder and chapped and plumped by his own teeth worrying at his bottom lip and… oh he was speaking to you. Focus.
“But maybe we should wait till later?? Because you seem very baked right now.” Eddie took your pencil away from you, grinning. Your pencil that had made its way (eraser first) between your lips and was getting bitten to hell. “Sweetheart, It was just a beer and we shared that joint…Did you not eat anything today??” He looked mildly concerned. “Do you want a snack or something? Coffee? I think we have Sanka in the cupboard… although what would be the point....”
You shook your head. No.
You didn’t admit it but You were not high. Or tipsy.
That was the thing. Eddie did this to you.
Yes, you’d faked taking that hit off his joint — hoping to look very chill about him offering you one. You’d barely taken a sip of the PBR he’d offered.
You Didn’t need any single thing to make you feel as high as THIS. When you had those big pretty eyes looking at you?? You were floating!
His lashes fluttered when he inhaled, held in the smoke, and then his eyes stared into your soul when he blew out (blowing away from your face - politely) and that just made you want to do unspeakably depraved things. For him. To him. On him.
“We could just… hang out.” Eddie said. “Plenty of time to make a character before next Wednesday and stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. we don’t need to have an activity to be ummm together, you can just ride that wave you are on and I’ll... play guitar at you or something.” He looked down again and huffed almost a laugh. “Obviously you don’t want That, no one wants that, but we could watch a movie....”
The overhead light cast the shadow of his lashes down over his cheekbones.
“I’d like to hear you play and sing one of your songs.” You said.
“Oh no no no,” Eddie leaned backwards and put his hands behind his head, legs spread at the knees - making you long to climb into his lap “I don’t know who told you I can sing... but they were exaggerating... I can scream my lyrics in my less than an octave range.”
“But you are the frontman, you play and sing lead, right??”
“That’s only until we can get Gareth a better mic set up - he’s got a great voice - like an angel.”
“I still want to hear you.” You crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “c’mon”
“You know what? I think I like this bossy side of you. Is this what happens when you loosen up a bit, you order people around?” Eddie smirked. “It makes me want to do whatever you say.”
“Really?” You asked, your mind reeling at the impossibilities.
“Yes.” Eddie’s tongue rolled over one canine tooth. He pointed at you. “Don’t use your power over me for evil.”
You may have gasped. Just a little.
“Or do.” Eddie scootched closer and his knee touched yours. “Just don’t get me in trouble.”
“Show me what you wear on stage.” You said. Well... demanded.
“It’s not that different than this...” He gestured down at his ripped jeans and his Anthrax T shirt under his gray hoodie. “No corpse paint, no tight leather - we’re thrash - more substance than style. Noooo, don’t look at me all disappointed...I’m just not fancy.” He rubbed his hands over his face.
“I’m not disappointed, i just really doubt you play your fancy red crackle finish guitar... in a gray sweatshirt.”
“Okay, I wear a tank top or something cropped because it’s hot as balls on stage and I pull my hair back sometimes or put my bandana on to keep the sweat from dripping in my eyes, that’s the sum total effort I put in okay? you don’t Really want to hear about me sweating my ass off, right?? Grossing you out, right?”
“No. are you gonna show me or not.”
“Yes. mistress, if you take that tone I guess I must.” Eddie slapped his thighs and stood, “Be right back.” He turned half way down the hall. “If you laugh, you gotta go. You’ll be out that door, high or not.”
He shook his head as he retreated down the hallway and then in a few minutes he emerged with his hair up in a loose bun.
He did a slow awkward turn for you. He was in a scissor cropped Megadeth shirt, with his pretty red guitar unfortunately, blocking your view of his stomach. As he turned you could ogle the curve of his back - see how his underwear - probably cotton boxers - were visible just above his jeans and belt.
“See.... not much to write home about. Functional, though. Practical.” He shrugged.
“You look hot.” you said. without thinking.
Eddie gave you an assessing look. “That’s probably the ganja talking. Or did you mean I look overheated, because yeah, it’s a little warm in the trailer but...”
For some reason this made you furious. “No. You look fucking hot, Eddie! You always look hot and I’m not fucking high. C’mere.”
His eyes went wide, he unslung his guitar and leaned it gently against a chair. “Okay... mistress.” He jumped over the coffee table and sat at the edge of the couch - leaning forward. Leaning towards you - at attention. “Any other demands?” he wasn’t being sarcastic though...
“At shows, you should crop your shirts higher, you should go commando under your jeans “ you snapped the elastic of his underwear. “…and you should not invite me over when no one else is around because apparently I go a little haywire when we are alone together.”
Eddie leaned in and kissed you. A kiss like spun sugar, ephemeral, impossibly sweet, and over too soon.
“I go a little haywire when you are near me too.” He said.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#briar writing#friends to lovers#Eddie Munson x Reader#writing cotton candy fluff and putting it into the tumblr water#first kiss
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As a POC, I gotta at least look out for Toshiro (even if he do kinda suck). Honestly the situation between him and laios is painful for the both of them. Shiro comes from a place and upbringing where being direct and upfront is like not advise or comes across as rude. Which is where aspects of envy towards laios being a direct and upfront person be coming from. Yet still stings for laios when it's someone who he thought he could connect and be friends with who has a different experience of life. Either way, it's a rough mashup for the both of them and falin as well.
As a neurodivergent woc, Laios has f-in point when it comes to the seriousness of taking on the dungeon after being well rested and fed. Toshiro really did put aside his big oofs to get help and head out to the dungeon to save falin, yet he sacrificed his well being for the sake of the situation and getting back to falin, which worked up until a point. It's still important to take care of your body during those kind of situations, cause you can't feed others without having the means to feed yourself.
Whoops, anyway, the mash up between Toshiro and laios was a rough cut for the both of them. I'm glad the fight at least sobered up shiro and gave laios an opportunity to correct and set a proper goal. The hurt still cuts like a b-th though. So like any of y'all folks really hating on shuro, needs to fucking chill and check y'all selves for rascim reasons before expressing your distaste for his actions. Be more like Kabru. And Falin already has marcille so things will turn out (if Falin ever comes back that is) *wink*.
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I'm thinking about Henchman/Goon Reader and their increasingly ridiculous lies they tell their boss and coworkers to cover for the teens (and eventually themself). "The fire alarm malfunctioned and released the safety on the enclosures." "I think someone jammed the gate mechanism, it's not opening and closing properly." "The cameras fritzed out around that time, I'll contact IT to see if there was a connection issue or something." "Uhh...the dinosaurs trampled the fence, obviously" "Josh spilled Dr. Pepper on the control panel and I left to get something to clean it up, no clue what happened." "Janitor forgot to lock the vents, the T-rex must have crawled through the heating ducts." "Um...Mercury was in Retrograde?" Goon!Reader is both the smartest and most skilled employee and the worst employee Raptor Dyne has at the same time. It honestly depends on whether or not they have dinosaurs in their sights/custody.
I imagine that Reader eventually gets caught researching heavily into their dinosaur half to try to learn about themself and gets caught by Veloci himself. Of course that's going to raise suspicion after that specific dinosaur has become a more common sight (are they assisting or hiding the dinosaur? Or could it be something else...?) and Reader very quickly has to come up with some excuse as to why they need to know the specific diet and suspected coloration the dinosaur came in. "It's my fursona!" The quickly excuse themself with. Honestly? Both the best and worst thing they could have said because now the suspicion is gone but also they then had to explain fursonas to their very intimidating boss and you just know it got back to their coworkers. They're never living it down.
Haha! Yes!!!! Ooooooh yep.
Reader is trying to save those kids collective *sses, and they're about to scream from how obvious it is that the same five kids who show up all across the globe are probably the dinosaurs or in cahoots with them!!! Are they the only person with intuition here?!
Ugh... that makes keeping them safe easier, they suppose... but d*mn it, being the smartest person in the room is annoying sometimes...
Having to try and look up their own dinosaur species led to a rather... awkward... conversation with their boss about what a fursona is, what the furry community is, and that yes, some dinos were really well-liked and adored by humans, so they're probably pretty chill if he needs any humans to spare (Hint. Hint.) Seriously though, now the entire lab workforce thinks they're a weird kid who watched too many old dino films (Jurassic Park was their first horror movie, sue them! It had DINOS, eating HUMANS. What isn't scarier, when now that IS their reality with their boss being an ancient evil raptor?!)
Oof. They have to rein it back in. Suffice to say, now their boss wants to join the furry community, and they are way out if their depth. Blazing stars, maybe they should have said therian...
(At least the kids are safe... but well... they aren't. Especially since they're able to turn into... some small, raptor thing... now if these files could just help them narrow it down to which species it is, they can at least know what to expect... And why their thoughts feel mushy around the kids and their boss and that odd teacher near the kids...)
(What kind of raptor should Reader be, folks?) (Buggest is probably Gigantoraptor, I think it was related to the Oviraptor, and the smallest is I think Microraptor... there's also Pyroraptor, Atrociraptor, Buitiraptor, Oviraptor, Troodon, Droemaeosaur, Deinonychus, Dakotahraptor, Utahraptor, Mononykus, and Velociraptor... and I'm sure many, many more...)
#honeycomb thoughts#platonic yandere dino squad#platonic yandere dinosquad#yandere dino squad#yandere dinosquad#platonic yandere victor veloci
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More like 44 sentences, but who's counting? From Duty--and here's a surprise: it's set in the bedroom.
----
Eyes still shut, Demelza reached over with a loving hand and found the still-warm bed sheet but nothing else.
“Ross?” She sat up slightly and saw him at the window peering out with fixed interest. An unlit cigarette wavered between his restless fingers.
He turned and smiled and just like that, whatever it was in the yard that had captivated his attention seemed to vanish from his mind. Or at least from his face.
“Go back to sleep, my love.”
“Is that rain?” she asked, disobedient as ever. As it was, she’d already slept through too much of Ross’s visit. Besides, watching him in nothing but his dressing gown was doing a fine job of waking her senses.
“Yes, and it seems the temperature has dropped. Not quite freezing but…”
“The potatoes!” The thought of a sudden loss after so much labour made her gasp.
“No, no. Don’t fret,” he soothed. “All the growth is still underground and nothing has sprouted yet. Most likely they’ll weather the storm.”
Of course the old Cornish wives took their tealing timetables quite seriously. No doubt they accounted for late frosts. And of course, Ross’ s farming expertise outweighed Demelza’s.
“I’ll take your word, Ross,” she managed a light laugh. Still she didn't like to hear the menacing splatter, like errant buck shot, on the roof overhead. She shivered, reminded of the many nights the wind had blown right through those same walls. She’d been so cold and so alone then. She didn't want to go back.
“Are you chilled?’ Ross took a few steps towards the bed, his hips swaying while his torso remained upright. He reminded her of a matador with his slow, stylized stroll. Was she meant to be a spectator–or the bull?
Now she saw he wore nothing under the dressing gown that was only loosely tied at the waist. The chaparral of dark hairs began at his chest but she knew where it led. In the pale dawn light, the swirls seemed to be dancing on their own.
Her fingers twitched, a muscle memory.
Eyes narrowed, he paused, watching her watch him. His tongue flicked between his teeth in amusement. Then he laughed and lit the cigarette he still held.
“I’ll light a fire in here too,” he said but seemed to be asking her permission. Or her forgiveness.
“Thank you , Ross, but no,” she said ruefully and swung her feet down to the cold floor. “If it's raining, we need to get a pan or two under the eaves, soon as. The leaks, you know.” She hated to speak it.
She’d come to understand the roof was a sore spot for Ross–as though the rotted (or missing) shingles were a cipher for his personal shortcomings, rather than just a feature of most folks’ everyday life. She wondered if he recalled her flat in Kingley Street had leaked as well?
#lucretiassister#poldark fanfic#poldark#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#duty#six sentence sunday
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My Thoughts on Volume 2's Bonus Story
Spoilers and Suggestive Discussion Abound!
Yes yes, I know I'm extremely late to all this, Amazon can be blamed for that. But, I have finally gotten my copy and have now read through the bonus story: Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde meet Dracula.
As the resident big spicy writer in the fandom, this was something I was looking forward to reading ever since Sage had hyped it up.
My verdict after reading it? It was amazing, on the same level as the prior bonus story, heck I'd even say it's better, but maybe that's the bias talking. Since you're looking past the -keep reading- line, I'll assume you've read it already so I won't waste time summarizing the story's events. Let's get to what I want to gush about most.
Dracula in this story is simple, yet eerily effective. Every time he talks, you get why anyone would be swayed into being controlled by him, molded into whatever he wanted out of them. He may look creepy, but as Jekyll proves, a voice can do a lot. Definitely makes me think that- paired with his liking to Lanyon's voice -our favourite repressed gentleman has a thing for attractive voices. Noted for future use.
And speaking of Lanyon, this has some great character stuff with him. The sniping him and Jekyll have at the start was so good, I was gasping at their comments. The way we got to see a glimpse at his home life as an adult, saw his view of how to act around others, especially the nastier folks you can meet in the upper class of London, it was all fantastic! Later, him using the gun was very sexy of him, and him putting Jekyll's own way of interacting with others to good use so as to save the man he loves was the sweetest thing ever.
Of course, he wasn't alone in trying to save Jekyll.
Ah, Rachel. Rachel Pidgley, the woman that you are. Seriously, this bonus story gave me a greater appreciation for her character, it was a delight to read her shit talking the rich and kicking vampire ass.
But, if you've been on this blog long enough, you'll know I'm a big fan of Hyde, and yeah, I really enjoyed his part in this story. Though he doesn't have a huge role in the narrative, what I got was rather interesting. This happens during the early days of his shared existence with Jekyll, and it doesn't appear that they have a lot of ire towards one another. Like, they just do their own things and don't bother each other, which is great compared to their present dynamic.
Child Hyde and Child Jekyll are adorable, no surprise there, but that moment as Hyde tries to help Jekyll without much complaining as would be expected nowadays hit me. Especially as the false love that Child Jekyll is getting turns into vitriol towards Hyde when he tries to get him away from them, cursing him out for not being anything like his "better" half. The tears welling up, the clawing at the window between the mind and the conscious world when Lanyon gave them an opening, him secretly admitting that he needs him?!
My Lanyde heart was aflutter and my angst loving mind buzzed with joy. And then, of course, we come to that ending.
Oh gods, that ending. Jekyon shippers were fed like it was their last fecking meal, and I was hooked throughout it all: Rachel's badassery, Lanyon's love beating out his rage, Hyde focusing Jekyll so that he can save Lanyon and him being the one to kill Dracula, then him and Lanyon recovering in The Society's med-bay (always knew they had one) while being lovey dovey and flirty with one another, it was all just wonderful from start to finish.
But then the final page came and sent me like nothing else, because I was not prepared for Lanyon being horny on main towards Jekyll WHILE RACHEL AND ITO WERE RIGHT THERE, like, my guy, you need to chill, this was so insane of him, I loved it! XD
But then again, apparently our favourite frontal lobe sharing duo weren't so bothered, because they apparently got a little too excited about the prospect of Lanyon as a vampire, AND THAT'S HOW THE STORY ENDS! Sage had the audacity to end it with these two arguing over who manifested a wet dream about Lanyon, while then stating that- no matter what either said -they were both guilty, and I respect that so damn much. It's both funny, spicy, and even a tad sweet when you look past the "horny for vampire Lanyon" layer.
They both love this man, and after this story, I get it.
To think, they don't even know what the actual comic's story has in store for them. Canon or not, Sage knocked it out of the park with this bonus story. It's just super validating to see this kind of story from the author of the comic. My hat goes off to them, 5 stars.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put Hyde through this new and fresh Dracula style angst Sage has gifted to us all.
Have a good week, stay hydrated and stay safe. Love you all! -RB. X3
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The Mystery In Memphis
Chapter 2: The Stranger
Last episode: The Clock Tower
The neon glow of Memphis’s streetlights danced on the slick pavement as Elvis pulled his collar up against the chill of the early evening. His guitar case swung in one hand, and the leather soles of his boots clicked in rhythm with the jazz spilling from the open doors of a café. Red had called him with urgency earlier, saying something about a mysterious person wanting to meet him. It sounded crazy, but if Red thought it was important, then Elvis figured he might as well hear the stranger out.
“Alright, Presley,” he muttered to himself, pausing to glance at his reflection in a shop window. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, tilting his head to inspect his pompadour. “Lookin’ good. Ain’t no mystery too tough for you, baby.”
The door to the café creaked open as he stepped inside. It was the kind of place where the regulars didn’t need menus and the staff knew everyone’s name. The smell of coffee and fried bacon hung in the air. Elvis spotted Red leaning against the counter, a thick mug of coffee in hand.
“You’re late,” Red said, his mouth curling into a grin. “Thought you might’ve chickened out.”
“Late? Hoss, I’m always on time. Time just has to catch up to me.” Elvis shot him a wink and a grin as he set his guitar case down by the counter. “So, where’s this mysterious somebody?”
Red tilted his head toward a shadowy booth in the back. “Right over there. Goes by the name Lucian. Weird vibe, though. You sure you wanna do this?”
“Do I wanna do this? Man, I live for weird vibes,” Elvis quipped, giving Red a playful shove before sauntering toward the booth.
Seated in the booth was someone who didn’t look like they belonged in 1950s Memphis—or maybe even on planet Earth. A sleek suit that caught the light in strange ways clung to the figure like a second skin. Short, dark hair framed sharp cheekbones, and when the stranger looked up, their gray eyes seemed to pierce right through Elvis.
“Well, ain’t you a picture,” Elvis said as he slid into the booth, his elbows resting on the table. “Name’s Elvis Presley. I hear you’ve been askin’ about me. Hope you don’t expect an autograph.”
The stranger’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Elvis. As charming as they say.” Their voice was low and smooth, but there was something about it—a slight lilting accent—that Elvis couldn’t quite place.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Elvis said, leaning back with an easy grin. “So, Lucian, is it? What’s your game? You a music producer, or are you here to tell me I’ve won a free car?”
Lucian’s smile widened just a fraction. “No games, Mr. Presley. I’m here to talk about your journal.”
Elvis blinked, his humor dropping for just a second. “My journal? Now, how in the Sam Hill do you know about that?”
Lucian leaned forward, their gray eyes locking onto his. “Let’s just say… I have a vested interest in ensuring it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Elvis studied them, his playful grin returning as he tried to deflect the tension. “You know, I meet a lot of folks, but you’ve got a real knack for bein’ mysterious. Lemme guess, you’re with the FBI? CIA? Or are you one of them fellas who tells fortunes at the fair?”
Lucian chuckled softly, the sound surprising Elvis. “I can see why they call you the King. But I’m not here for jokes. I’m here to help you understand what you’ve stumbled upon—and why it matters.”
The seriousness in their voice sent a chill down Elvis’s spine, but he didn’t let it show. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve got my attention. Tell me about this journal.”
Lucian’s smile faded as they reached into their coat and pulled out a small object. It was a pocket watch, but not like any Elvis had seen before. Its surface shimmered faintly, and strange symbols pulsed across its face, almost alive.
“This,” Lucian said, setting the watch on the table between them, “is connected to the journal you found. Together, they can guide you to something incredible. But they can also lead to disaster if used by the wrong people.”
Elvis frowned, leaning closer to inspect the watch. “This some kinda magic trick? You gonna pull a rabbit outta your coat next?”
“It’s no trick,” Lucian said quietly. “And it’s not magic. It’s science—far beyond what you know in this timeline.”
Elvis froze, the word “timeline” ringing in his ears. “Hold up. What do you mean by ‘this timeline’? You tryin’ to tell me you’re from the future or somethin’?”
Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not exactly. But I’m not from here either.”
The way they said it, so matter-of-fact, made Elvis laugh nervously. “Okay, now I know you’ve been hittin’ the sauce. You expect me to believe you’re some kinda… what, alien?”
Lucian’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Not an alien. But I am… displaced. From another time. Another version of this world.”
Elvis opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He thought about the journal—the strange symbols, the cryptic messages—and about the woman he’d seen in the alleyway, the way she’d disappeared in a flash of light.
“You’re serious,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.
“Deadly serious,” Lucian replied.
Elvis rubbed the back of his neck, trying to wrap his head around everything. “Alright, let’s say I believe you. What does any of this have to do with me?”
Lucian’s expression softened, and for the first time, Elvis saw something human in their eyes—something vulnerable. “The journal chose you, Elvis. You’re not just some musician chasing a dream. You have a part to play in something much bigger than yourself.”
Elvis laughed, the sound tinged with disbelief. “Bigger than me? Hoss, I’m just a guy who sings songs and shakes his hips. I ain’t no hero.”
Lucian leaned forward, their gaze intense. “Heroes aren’t chosen because they’re ready. They’re chosen because they’re needed. And right now, you’re needed.”
Elvis stared at them, his humor fading as the weight of their words sank in. He didn’t want to believe any of this—didn’t want to think about timelines or disasters or playing hero. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were right.
“Alright,” he said finally, his voice steady. “What do we do next?”
Lucian’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “First, we find the next clue. The journal and this watch will guide us. But we’ll need to move quickly. There are others who want the journal—and they won’t hesitate to use force to get it.”
“Great,” Elvis muttered, shaking his head. “Guess I better lace up my blue suede shoes for runnin’, huh?”
Lucian chuckled, and for the first time, Elvis saw them as more than just some mysterious figure with a cryptic mission. There was something about their laugh—soft and genuine—that made him feel… curious.
“Don’t worry,” Lucian said, their voice lighter now. “You’ll get used to it.”
Elvis leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But tell me one thing—if you’re from another timeline, does that mean you know how this all ends?”
Lucian’s smile faltered, and their gaze dropped to the watch. “No. I don’t. And that’s why we have to keep going. Together.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, the hum of the café’s jukebox filling the space between them. Elvis watched Lucian, his mind racing with questions he didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t fully trust them—not yet. But there was something about them, something he couldn’t ignore.
And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to ignore it.
Elvis ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in the booth. His eyes flicked to the pocket watch on the table. The symbols on its face shimmered faintly, almost hypnotic.
“So,” Elvis drawled, trying to lighten the mood, “we’re just gonna let this little gizmo tell us where to go? What if it sends us to, I dunno, the middle of a swamp or somethin’? I didn’t exactly bring my gator boots.”
Lucian chuckled softly. “It’s more precise than that. The watch reacts to the journal—it’ll guide us to the next piece of the puzzle. But only if we work together.”
Elvis raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Work together, huh? And what happens if I decide to walk outta here, huh? Take that journal and shove it under my mattress? Not sayin’ I will, but… you know, hypothetically.”
Lucian’s gaze met his, steady and unflinching. “Then you’ll be hunted. And not just by me.”
Elvis let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, you sure know how to make a fella feel special.”
Lucian’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Trust me, Elvis. You’re more special than you realize.”
He leaned back again, his playful grin returning. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might start blushin’. But alright, I’ll bite. Where’s this watch gonna send us?”
Lucian reached for the watch, their fingers brushing against its surface. The symbols began to pulse faster, the faint hum growing louder. Elvis sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued.
“It’s reacting,” Lucian said softly. “The journal—it’s trying to lead us to the next clue.”
Before Elvis could respond, the watch let out a sharp, metallic chime, and a beam of light shot from its face. The light formed a glowing map on the table, its lines shifting and swirling until they settled on a familiar street corner in downtown Memphis.
Elvis blinked, pointing at the map. “That’s Beale Street! Man, I was just there last week. They got the best ribs you’ll ever taste. You ever try ribs, Lucian? Or is that not somethin’ they got in your… timeline?”
Lucian gave him an amused look. “Focus, Elvis. The watch is guiding us to something important. We need to move quickly.”
“Alright, alright,” Elvis said, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his guitar case. “But I’m tellin’ you now—if we’re gonna be runnin’ all over Memphis, we’re stoppin’ for ribs at some point. It’s non-negotiable.”
Lucian followed him, the faintest smile playing on their lips. “We’ll see.”
The night air hit them as they stepped outside, the city alive with the sounds of blues music and distant laughter. Elvis tilted his head, listening to the rhythm of the city he loved.
“You know,” he said, glancing at Lucian, “you never answered my question earlier. What’s your deal? Why’s somebody from another timeline runnin’ around Memphis lookin’ for journals and watches? Don’t you folks have, like, hovercars or somethin’ to keep you busy?”
Lucian hesitated, their eyes flicking to the ground. “It’s… complicated.”
Elvis stopped walking, turning to face them. “Complicated, huh? Well, lucky for you, I’m a real good listener. Got all night, darlin’.”
Lucian looked up, meeting his gaze. For a moment, Elvis thought he saw something flicker in their expression—regret, maybe. Or sorrow.
“My world…” Lucian began, their voice quieter now. “It’s gone. Destroyed by the very fracture I’m trying to stop here.”
Elvis blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in their voice. “Gone? You mean—”
“Everything,” Lucian said, cutting him off. “Everything I knew, everyone I loved—it’s all gone. Because I failed to stop the fracture in time.”
Elvis was silent for a moment, his usual humor slipping away. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Lucian shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. “You didn’t know. But that’s why I’m here, Elvis. This is my chance to fix things. To make sure your world doesn’t suffer the same fate as mine.”
Elvis stared at them, a new respect blossoming in his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I gotta say, you’re a lot braver than me. If I was in your shoes, I’d probably be hidin’ under a bed somewhere.”
Lucian chuckled softly. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
They started walking again, the tension between them easing as they made their way toward Beale Street.
When they arrived, the street was alive with music and energy. Neon signs glowed in every color, and the sound of a harmonica drifted from a nearby bar. Elvis couldn’t help but grin, the familiar sights and sounds putting him at ease.
“Now this,” he said, gesturing to the lively scene around them, “this is what I’m talkin’ about. If you’re gonna save the world, might as well do it with some good music in the background.”
Lucian smirked. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“Not everything,” Elvis said, his grin softening. “But sometimes, laughin’ at the craziness of it all is the only thing that keeps you from losin’ your mind.”
Lucian studied him for a moment, their expression unreadable. “You’re not what I expected, Elvis Presley.”
He raised an eyebrow, his grin returning. “Oh yeah? And what’d you expect? Some dull ol’ fella with no sense of humor?”
Lucian’s lips twitched. “Something like that.”
“Well, lucky for you, you got me instead,” Elvis said, winking. “Now, let’s find this clue before somebody beats us to it.”
The watch led them to an old music shop tucked between two larger buildings. Its sign was faded, and the windows were dark. Elvis pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling softly.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Instruments lined the walls, their strings glinting faintly in the dim light.
“Creepy,” Elvis muttered, his voice echoing slightly. “You sure this is the place?”
Lucian nodded, holding up the watch. Its glow intensified, casting strange shadows on the walls.
“Alright,” Elvis said, his voice quieter now. “Let’s see what we’re dealin’ with.”
As they moved deeper into the shop, the glow of the watch led them to a display case in the back. Inside, nestled among old sheet music and guitar picks, was a small metal key.
“That’s it,” Lucian said, their voice barely a whisper.
Elvis frowned. “A key? That’s what all this fuss is about?”
“It’s not just a key,” Lucian said, reaching for the case. “It’s a—”
Before they could finish, the sound of footsteps echoed through the shop. Elvis spun around, his heart racing.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, his voice low.
Lucian grabbed the key and slipped it into their pocket, their expression tense. “We need to go. Now.”
They turned to run, but the shop door slammed shut, and a group of shadowy figures stepped into view.
“Well, ain’t this just peachy,” Elvis muttered, raising his fists. “Guess we’re gonna have to do this the hard way.
Lucian glanced at him, a hint of amusement in their eyes. “Think you can handle it?
Elvis grinned. “Darlin’, I was born ready.”
#elvis presley#elvis#70s elvis#elvis fans#elvis history#elvis the king#elvisedit#60s elvis#elvisaaronpresley#black!oc
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🌈✨CRINGETOBER 2024✨🌈 DAY 9: CHILDHOOD VIDEO GAME
MySims folks, HI!!! I’ve been obsessed with the original MySims lately, so I made an introduction page for my player character!
LOTS of reminiscing under the cut, SORRY Y'ALL.
I recently got a Wii, but I haven't gotten too many games for it yet! EXCEPT for MySims! MySims is one of those foundational game series for me that I just love so much. Kingdom was maybe the most fun I remember having, and then Agents literally changed my brain chemistry. I'm very glad two of the games are getting released on the Switch. I'm going to collect and play all of them in order, and no joke, that's probably going to take a long time, because I take Sims building SOOO seriously. Maybe I'll do introductions for all my protags though, who knows!
ANYWAYS, this is Cala Mint! Cala was NOT my original MySims character as a child, tbh I don't really remember the Sim I made at all. I do know every single one I did make back then was super edgy, super goth. And absolutely no hate for that, I may do that for another character, but I just didn’t feel it for the first MySims game! And an idea struck me while messing in the character creator!
A long time ago, I completed the Not So Berry Challenge for the Sims 4! All ten gens! I wish I still had my screenshots, but unfortunately they all got blasted into the ether when I transferred my files from a different computer. However, I did draw ONE of my characters. My founder, Cala DeBerry!
Her fashion wasn't...GREAT lol, but I LOVED her. She was a mad scientist, her best friend at the lab was Caleb Vatore, she married Eva Capricciosa from Partihaus because they were always at the club together, she was enemies with Vlad. It was just so fun, I loved that entire challenge so much even though it took me FOUR years to do.
Now, Cala lives on in MySims! I imagine she's still a scientist type, but definitely more chill compared to the other scientists in this series. She's absolutely judging the fact that so many people in the town love to decorate with red apples. My first best friend was Vincent Skullfinder, because the museum was so fun to build. It'll probably take me a bit to get to Five Stars and fill in all my lots, BUT, I'm sooo enjoying replaying the game despite how poorly it runs. Seriously, I don't know how they made it run so bad but my Wii is screaming whenever it first loads anything.
I based this sheet on the Relationship book, if I had more time I would definitely have doodled more, but the MySims style is actually really really hard for me for some reason. More studies in the future will be needed for sure.
ANYWAYS, thanks for reading, you're epic and incredible. <3
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Mini Fanfic #1216: Small Beach Crush (Sonic X SSBU)
4:42 p.m. at the Smash Local Beach..........
A race has been going on in the bright, sunny day at the Smash Beach, that specializes in Extreme Gears founded and provided by the Babylon Rogue Inc.
The two racers, Sonic The Hedgehog and Jet the Hawk, appear to neck to neck towards the Finish Line, in the last lap.....That is until the final racer swoops in outta nowhere, with more vigorous speed, sweeping both of his competition off their boards and onto the sandy ground, much to their surprise.
The crowd begins to roar in applause the very moment he crossed that Finish Line before sticking a gnarly, perfect landing on the ground. It wasn't long before a Shy Guy announcer runs in to announce the winner helping him holding his own arm up, which just so happens to be...I...
Announcer: The Winner of the 5-Lap Riders Prix.....FUUUUNKY KOOOOOOONG!!!
'Even More Applause'
Sonic: (Groans a Bit While Getting Himself Back on his Feet) Darn...... The folks weren't kidding when they say he's the Best Extreme Gear rider of this part of town.
Jet: (Sighs While Getting Up From the Ground as Well) The guy's a natural born surfer. He can make even the most uncontrollable board a cakewalk to ride on.
Sonic: (Begins to Stretch his Back Forward Befire Stretching his Arm Up Next) Welp! If that's the case, I'm gonna that means I gotta to work a little harder next time. Can't afford to be in 2nd Place forever, you know?
Jet: (Scoffs While Rolling his Eyes) More like 3rd Place...
Sonic: (Turns to Jet With a Raised Eyebrow) Pardon?
Jet: You heard me! 3rd! The place- (Points at Sonic) YOU are currently in!
Sonic: Oh get real. (Starts Butting Heads with Jet) I clearly crossed that line before you could even get close to me!
Jet: Big talk for a guy who's tip of his board Isa millimeter shorter than mines!
Sonic: Oh, so we're measuring boards now?
Jet: If it proves that I'm better than you, why the hell not at this point?
Sonic: (Shrugs) Alright. (Forms a Cocky Smirk on his Face) Still can't beat me in a fist fight though.
Jet: (Angrily Cracking his Knuckles at his Rival) Wanna bet? I been wanting to pulverize that stupid face of your some time now!
Sonic: (Waves Both his Hands Back to Him in a Very Competitive Fashion) Well, bring it then, Birdbrain. I ain't got all-
????: BOYS!
The rivals turns to see the Certified Moms giving both of them their collective Motherly Glares in the mid.
Samus: What the hell did we say about being civil?
Peach: This is a place for fun and relaxation.
Moms: NO. FIGHTING!
Sonic: (Sighs in Defeat Along with Jet) Yes, ma'ams......
Jet: Won't happen again.....(Turns to Sonic) Forgot how scary your moms are..........
Sonic: (Shrugs) They gotta take their jobs seriously somehow....
?????: Hey now!
The duo turns to see the winner of their race, Funky Kong, walk over to them along with the crowd, with a bright, chill smile on his face.
Funky: No need to fuss n' fight now. You both did great out there. Actually had me to workin' up a sweat just to keep up.
Sonic: (Smiles Softly at Funky) Thanks, man. Congratulations on the win.
Jet: Yeah, congrats. But uh...('Clears Throat') Who would you say is the fastest between the two of us here, hm?
Sonic: (Rolls his Eyes at Jet) Could you not waste his time asking that dumb question? The answer's obviously me.
Jet: (Glares at Sonic) Lies! It's me and everyone out here knows it.
Sonic: Yeah, keep telling yourself that you-
Funky: (Breaks Up the Potential Fighting Between Hedgehog and Bird) Hey-Hey-Hey! No more of that now. We're a the fastest here in this wicked beach time. (Holds Both Sonic and Jet's Hands Up) AM I RIGHT, PEOPLE!?
'Uproarious Cheers and Applauses'
Tails: (Watches the Crowd in the Distance With Amy and Coco Sitting Next to Him) Never thought I'd see the day someone would actually out speed Sonic in anything, but...here we are.
Amy: (Sighs Dreamingly at her Man) He may have lost the race, but he'll always be The Fastest, Most Handsomest Thing in my eyes and heart~ (Takes a Look at the Time on her Phone) What is taking Wave so long to get here? (Starts Pouting a Bit) If her boss starts picking fights with Sonic again, there's gonna be heck to pay!
Coco: You know Wave: Have to make extra sure her work is completely done before she could do anything else. (Notices Something) Ooh, speaking of which- (Points Tails and Amy to Their Swallow Friend Walking in the Distance) There she is right now. (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Looking a lot more girlier than usual......
Tails: Girlier?- (Eyes Widened at the Sudden Realization) Wait s second! Is she looking pretty for someone?
Amy: (Happily Clasps her Hands Together as Her Eyes Starts to Sparkle) A secret admirer perhaps?~
Coco: (Casually Shrugs While Forming a Teasing Smirk on her Face) It's the only reason I can think of~
Meanwhile.......
Funky: (Happily Greets Wave) Yooo, Wave, you finally made it!
Wave: Yeah, sorry it took me so long to get here. (Smiles Sheepishly While Rubbing the Back of her Head Back and Forth) You know how I am when it comes getting everything done down in the workplace....B-But I was able to catch some of your racing highlights on stream. (Starts Blushing a Bit) You were.....pretty gnarly out there, I must admit~
Funky: (Chuckles Lightly) Appericate the wicked feedback, little lady. And here I was worried that I ticked you off for outstaging your boss out there.
Wave: (Playfully Scoffs) Please. There's a lot of things that would drive me up the wall. But winning a race against Jet is definitely not one of them.
Funky: Good, good. So, now that you're out and about, what you plan on doing from here on out?
Wave: Well, I-
???: Ohhh Waveee!~
Wave turns around to see Amy giggling softly and Coco and Tails waving at her with teasing grins on each of their faces before letting out an annoyed sigh and turning back to Funky.
Wave: I have a couple of twer-I mean-('Sigh') Friends I gotta to hang out with.
Funky: (Smiles Brightly) Nice! Friends are the one thing that could help build up your character after all, especially in an awesome place like this!
Wave: (Rolls her Eyes a Bit in Annoyance) To an egregious sense maybe.....(Puts on a Small Smile on her Face) Catch you later then?
Funky: (Happily Nodded) Sure thing. Go out and enjoy yourself, Wave! You've earned it after all the work you've done.
Wave: Thanks, Funky. You too. (Walks Away)
Funky: (Watches Wave Leave Before Going Back to the Crowd) Now, which one of you crazy people are up for a game of LIMBO!!?
'Even More Applause'
Wave: (Walks Ovver to the Trio, Already Annoyed) ('Sigh') Alright. Get it all out of your systems already.
Coco: Why hello here, Wave~
Tails: Whatever do you mean exactly?~
Wave: (Glares at her Felliw Tech Friends) Oh don't even try and play the innocent card on me, you little twerps! I can tell by the look in your dumb faces that you're gonna the annoy the hell outta me over this.
Coco: (Chuckles Lightly) Hey, considering all the times you tease us on being a potential couple, it's only fair we find some way to return a flavor~
Tails: All's fair in love and harmless teasings~
Wave: ('Ugh') Whatever. (Turns to an Giddied Up Amy Rose) And what are you smiling about over there?
Amy: Oho nothing too noteworthy!~ Just admiring the fact that a bookworm like you is having yourself a school girl crush~
Wave: (Was About to Ipen her Mou-)
Amy: Don't even try to deny it. (Forms a Bit of a Teasing Smirk of her Own) We seen the way you look and talk to him over there. You're in looove~
Tails and Coco hold onto to each other hands and starts making kissy noises just to get under Wave's skin.
Wave: (Comically Glares at the Duo Again) Will you cut that out!? I'm not crushing over Funky!....At...least not completely!
Amy, Coco, and Tails stares at their blushing swallow friend, unconvinced on everything she's telling them.
Wave: ('Sighs in Defeat') Okay, so maybe I do have a tiny bit of mushy feelings for him these days. We've been working together on a few business projects as of late. Didn't care for him at first glance, but the more days we work, the....(Starts Blushing a Bit) More I started to enjoy his company a bit. He nice, compassionate with his craftsmanship and profession, and a lot more intelligent than I gave him credit for. He's incredible~
Amy: And just your tyyyyype?~
Wave: ('Sigh') I dunno. Maybe? He's a lot more laid back and outgoing, despite him not being a fan of going out on adventures all that much, oddly enough. Meanwhile, I'm as boring as they come, or as Storm would irritatingly put it...."A Killjoy".
Tails: (Gives Wave a More Reassuring Smile Along with Coco) Come on, Wave, you're none of those things.
Coco: Yeah. I mean, you can be a real pain sometimes, but you're still cool be around in our books.
Wave: (Turns to Coco With Genuine Surprised on her Face) Wow. That.....might be the most nicest thing you've ever said about me yet, kid. Thanks.
Coco: No problem. Don't expect this to be a recurring thing though. (Smirks Again) You're still a nagging know-it-all in my eyes.
Wave: (Smirks Back at Coco) ('Hmph') And you're still a half pint brat.
Coco: Better than being bossy.
Wave: Better than being annoying.
Coco: Better than being an eyesore.
Wave: Takes one to know one, brat.
Coco: Hey, I am PLEASANT to be around!
Wave: Could've fooled me.
Coco: Yeah, well....(Continues Arguing with Wave)
Tails: (Sighs While Watching his Two Tech Friends Bickering With One Another Again) It was fine to see two get along while it lasted, albeit a few seconds. (Turns to See Amy Writing Something Down on her Mini Notebook) Whatcha writing over there, Amy?
Amy: A few confessional and romantic ideas. I'm gonna help make Wave's dating dream come to reality and I want you and Coco to help me.
Tails: (Gives Amy an Uncertain Look on his Face) You sure you want our help on this? We're not really that knowledgeable when it comes to anything romance related.
Amy: Yeah, but you guys know Wave way better than I do these days, so you're crucial for this operation. (Gives Tails the Sad Puppy Dog Look) Plus, I really want us to spend more time together these days~ I miss you-
Tails: ('Sigh') Lower those eyes, Ames, we'll help out. Just.....don't expect this operation to go as flawlessly as you hoped.....Also, I missed you too.
Amy happily pulls Tails into a loving hug as they continue to enjoy their time at the beach together.
@albion-93
@ma-lemons
@caleb13frede
@bestpony666
#super smash ultimate#sonic series#crash bandicoot series#wave the swallow#miles tails prower#coco bandicoot#amy rose#sonic the hedgehog#jet the hawk#peach#samus aran#funky kong#extreme gear race#beach time#humor#crushes#sonamy#tech trio#certified moms
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This is the first time for me getting so obsessed with my oc it’s almost scary. But hey, I did say I’d make a somewhat of a ref sheet, even if I can hardly consider it one. It’s your choice to get to know my sweet baby or not, though you can read the text below to get some music recommendations at the end.
(and just a lil’ doodle of Roulette wishing to be friends with 808)
Roulette (or just Ru)
Height - 162
Age - 24
A no-nonsense type of woman at first glance, Roulette is an HR Assistant at Vandelay Tech, starting her job at least 3 months after the the ending of the main game. A walking dichotomy of a person, you can never guess what she is currently thinking or might blurt out, so you might say there’s never a dull moment with her.
Despite her outwardly cold and standoffish appearance (and sometimes even attitude), Roulette is actually a pretty friendly and deeply caring person, willing to help most folks in need. She usually remains polite with her colleagues, and even jokes around with some of them. Despite “hating” her job (it’s complicated), she tries to take it seriously, and keep a positive attitude in most situations.
Outside of work, Roulette is more… quirky, bordering on being a weirdo even by her friends’s standards. They have to sometimes keep a good eye on her just so that she wouldn’t do anything brash or crazy, especially when bored. Rather candid and open-minded, most people feel at ease with her, and can sense that they won’t face that big of a judgement while discussing what’s troubling their minds. That openness to most things though might be fuelled by her insatiable curiosity.
Even with her rather amiable and upbeat demeanour, she is a introverted individual who almost always seeks to isolate herself from the outside world, escaping into her fantasies where she doesn’t have to worry about her existence and personal problems. Unfortunately for Roulette, her consciousness doesn’t let her off easy, manifesting a sort of tulpa-esque being that only she can see. That is literally herself.
(might as well call it a shadow now that I think about it)
Some facts and tidbits✨
Can forge signatures pretty well, and picked that skill up from her last job (nothing really illegal; can’t forge super simple signatures, Chai’s included)
Doesn’t really have a specific fashion style. She doesn’t like being restricted in any way when it comes to her choices, so she prefers wearing anything she deems fitting for her
Which is almost everything.
Prefers it when people use her nickname instead of full name, for a reason that might seem a bit surprising. To her, using a nickname helps set some sort of imaginary wall between her and other people, making Ru feel just a bit more comfortable. With that, only people that are close to her can use her full first name without her getting annoyed or angry
But most people can’t even read/pronounce it so-
It’s even worse with her last name
On the topic of names, she likes giving out nicknames to both friends and random people (and it helps since she’s often bad at remembering names)
Likes clever words-play, puns included (loves them because they are funnily stupid)
Has anger issues stemming from her past, but she’s trying to work on that (and is not always successful on that front)
Tries to let off some steam through fighting games and her hobbies (which, apparently there are a good few of them)
Master baker and master bai-
No, literally. Makes bomb banana bread and other treats
Has chromesthesia, but doesn’t even realise it
Picks at her skin/hair/lashes, bites her lips when feeling anxious or frustrated (🫵 coded?)
Her hair bun and locks are constantly inconsistent (and not because I don’t know how to draw them one way, she’s just like that)
A sensitive baby as a whole, though you won’t be able to pick up on that easily
Sometimes knows too much. Take that as you will.
(didn’t know what theme song to give her when she’s all “chill“, but Ladytron’s “Ghosts“ and NIN’s “Discipline“ kinda fit her.
(Though you can probably listen to “With Teeth“ and understand her current mood and feelings better)
(might draw Chai next just to see how he looks under my pen)
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I am in dire need of a lone wanderer & companions reaction to the dunwich building and the krivbeknih.
Fo3 Companions Reactions to the Dunwich Building and the Krivbeknih
➼ Word Count » 0.9k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic
Charon doesn’t have any real opinion on the book itself other than it makes him feel incredibly uneasy. If it were up to him, he’d have it destroyed. There’s nothing good that could come out of an occult item such as this, and selling it for a profit just doesn’t sit right with him. The Dunwich Building doesn’t make him feel any greater, he’s just happy to be able to drop the book off and leave. Although, when you do place it on the altar, he gets burnt along with the rest of the ghouls in the building. It's not as bad, just a few scorch marks, but it still stings him.
The entire idea of the book being able to control people makes Clover uncomfortable, but as long as it's in your hands, she won't voice her opinions. Surely you know what you're doing, and she puts her full trust in you. If you mention anything about selling it to Obidiah, though, she'll panic a bit and beg you not to. How can you be so sure about this? Maybe you should think it over? On the flip side, however, she doesn't want you to take it to the altar either. I mean, why not just keep it for yourself? Control the swamp folk however you see fit? She would much rather it be in your hands than some old man anyway, and you're not so bad of an owner to her. So why not?
Star Paladin Cross thinks it's an abomination that should be terminated immediately. What kind of person would need something like this anyway? It's despicable, and she expects you to take it to the Dunwich building to have it destroyed instantly. In fact, she feels so strongly about it that if you were to sell it to Obidiah, she'd pull her sledgehammer out and ask you to reconsider. When the two of you finally find time to go down to the altar, she'll feel incredibly relieved. She finds the building itself to be odd, but at the end of the day, she's a realist who tries to explain all the paranormal instances with logical conclusions.
Jericho hated going down into the swamp folks' ritual site just to grab some book and would snatch it out of your hands to go sell it off so that the two of you could make some money out of your troubles. I mean, seriously, why go all the way down in some lousy cave for something you just plan on destroying? No, thank you. He's selling it. He also refuses to go anywhere near the Dunwich building. There have been a lot of stories he's heard from other raiders over the years, but none have ever been as chilling as the ones surrounding that place. He just wants to snag some caps out of it and leave.
Butch will act all jittery the entire time you spend around the Krivbeknih. It's unnatural, and he thinks that the two of you should put it back instead of carrying it around. What if it makes you both a target? Who else wants this book? He doesn't want any kind of threat following you guys around and would beg to just get rid of it. He genuinely couldn't care less about what you do with it as long as you discard it somehow. However, taking him to the Dunwich building to have the book burnt doesn't make him feel much better. He'll have his gun unholstered the entire time and will aim it at anything that moves, even his own shadow. He never wants to look back on this experience and doesn't want to involve himself with any cults for a long time to come.
Fawkes finds the book and religious aspects intriguing and might ask to study them a bit further before either of you do anything. Things like these don't ever lead to anything good, he's aware, but he also finds knowledge to be important when making decisions on such a broad scale. Who knows, maybe what he learns while looking into the book might help the two of you out later on down the line. Of course, at the end of the day, he thinks it's better to destroy it than to sell it off. The idea that someone could have complete control over an entire race of people is sickening to him, and he'd hate for anyone to feel any kind of entrapment. Fawkes isn't afraid of the paranormal, in fact, he finds it dreadfully interesting, and would probably spend way more time than necessary in the Dunwich building.
RL-3 thinks the swamp folk are disgraces to America, and would try to burn the Krivbeknih himself once you both obtain it. Honestly, it's embarrassing to know that such scoundrels are living in the States as we speak. That being said, he would scold you if you went and sold it to Obidiah. Have you not learned anything in your training? These kinds of behaviors are not to be tolerated. Besides, the wasteland could use a little community service, and the Dunwich building needs to be cleared.
Dogmeat's fur stands on end whenever you take it out of your bag. There's a certain aura around it that he can sense and it makes him anxious. He'll growl and bark until you finally put it back into your inventory. The Dunwich building isn't much better. He's much less on edge, but there'll be moments when he seemingly stares at nothing and barks uncontrollably. It's unsettling, to say the least.
#fallout#fallout 3#fo3#charon fo3#charon#clover fo3#fo3 companions#fo3 companions reactions#fo3 reactions#star paladin cross#star paladin cross fo3#jericho fo3#fawkes fo3#rl 3 fo3#dogmeat fo3#butch fo3#butch deloria#point lookout dlc#point lookout
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❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed SIENNA RAY walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who SHE is ? they kind of look like HAYLEY LAW and i could be wrong but i think that they might be 29-years-old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last YEAR. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of PENNY LANE from ALMOST FAMOUS. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at MANGO BAY RECORD STORE as a SALES ASSOCIATE ; ALSO A MUSICIAN. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the THE MIDNIGHT LILY of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty CYNICAL at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty FREE-SPIRITED to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that TWO BEDROOM apartment beside me over in SUNSET VILLAS. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you! ❀
biography.
Sienna Ray grew up in a house that hummed with music 24/7. Raised by her free-spirited, bohemian parents in Nashville, Tennessee, she learned early that creativity was the ultimate currency. There were no rules when it came to art in her home—whether it was playing guitar on the porch at sunrise or dancing around to vinyl records while her mom whipped up some homemade granola, music was just a part of the fabric of her life. Her parents—both ex-hippies with a love for folk, rock, and anything weird—were the kind of people who handed Sienna a guitar when she was five and said, “Here, try this.” And she did. By the time she hit her teens, she was experimenting with multiple instruments: guitar, bass, piano, even a bit of drums (though she was never quite good enough to join a band on them).
Sienna went on to attend a performing arts high school, where she dabbled in everything from vocal training to songwriting. After that, she went full-throttle into a music program at college. There, she honed her sound—a blend of indie folk and a sprinkle of alt-rock vibes, with lyrics that made people think but also made them want to sway to the beat. After college, Sienna took a deep breath, grabbed her guitar, and hit the road. For a few years, she was the quintessential indie musician—playing at dive bars, coffee shops, and open mics all over the country. She did what any starving artist would do: perform, network, play some more, and repeat. Along the way, she sang in a wedding band (they called her “the heartbreaker” for some reason) and even worked the occasional evening talent gig in sketchy bars for a few extra bucks.
She figured, Hey, if this music thing’s going to happen, it’s going to happen on my own terms. But, of course, it didn’t exactly go as planned. There were just as many people with guitars and dreams as there were Starbucks in a hipster neighborhood—and none of them were willing to sell their soul for a quick viral moment. So Sienna kept it chill. She didn’t need the fame—she just wanted to make real music, the kind that felt true to who she was. Sure, she had moments of doubt—especially when her friends were posting their fancy gigs and signing record deals on social media—but she kept going. Even if it was just at open mics with a crowd of three, she was doing her thing. She believed if she stayed authentic, someone—somewhere—would hear her.
A year ago, Sienna packed up her life and moved to Palmview Grove, Florida, a small beach town with a relaxed vibe that felt like the perfect place to breathe and reset. She took a job at a local record store—a place that was basically her second home. Here, surrounded by vinyl, cassettes, and music lovers, she gets to talk music with people who understand what it's like to be a bit obsessed with the art of it all. Sienna loves her job. The store is chill, the people are friendly, and she gets to help customers find records that speak to their souls. She even has her own little corner where she plays acoustic sets now and then. It’s a laid-back gig that lets her stay close to music while not getting caught up in the hustle of big-city dreams.
But, as she hits 30, the question looms—Is it time to hang up the guitar and call it? The music dream is still there, but it’s hard not to wonder if it’s just the lingering ghost of a past ambition. Should she keep doing this, chasing those small-but-sweet gigs, or should she focus on building something more stable? She’s not sure, but she’s not in any rush to figure it out, either.
personality.
Sienna is easygoing with a bit of a dry, sarcastic edge. She’s the kind of person who’ll spend hours talking about obscure 80s bands and then drop a one-liner about how “life’s too short to take too seriously.” She’s not one to stress out over things, preferring to go with the flow—sometimes a little too much for her own good.
She’s got a heart that’s loyal to the core, but she’s not the type to chase drama or take herself too seriously. If you want to talk about existential angst over a beer, she’s in. If you want to sit in silence and listen to vinyl, she’s in. But, despite her relaxed demeanor, there’s still a fire inside her—an artist who wants her music to be heard, even if it’s just for the right few people who’ll get it.
miscellaneous details.
Joined a band called Eclipsed Reverie as their main vocalist when she moved to Palmview Grove. The band is a mix of indie, post-punk, and dream pop vibes, and they have a super chill yet mysterious sound. She’s loving the band’s collaborative energy after years of solo performances.
Loves thrift shopping—she’s all about finding vintage clothes, vinyl, and unique treasures at secondhand stores. Her record collection is a mix of obscure finds and classic gems.
Hates avocado toast. Everyone raves about it, but Sienna just can’t get behind the hype. She’ll take a good ol' fashioned scrambled egg sandwich any day.
Can make the perfect playlist for any occasion. Whether it's a road trip, a rainy day, or a midnight jam session, Sienna’s playlists are legendary, blending everything from classic rock to obscure indie bands.
She's obsessed with 80s synthesizer music. Depeche Mode and New Order are constant inspirations for her sound, and she’s always trying to sneak a bit of synth into her band’s songs—even if they aren't fully on board with it.
She has an uncanny ability to remember song lyrics. Not just her own, but pretty much every song she’s ever heard. Her friends always ask her to sing random lyrics at the drop of a hat.
Big fan of astrology. She's a Leo, and while she doesn't take it too seriously, she definitely loves reading up on her horoscope and always finds it just accurate enough to make her think there might be something to it.
She has a soft spot for cats, but doesn't own one. Has instead befriended the strays that linger around her apartment building bringing them treats anytime she sees them.
Her ideal vacation is a road trip across the U.S. She’s been to some cool places, but she still dreams of seeing more hidden gems like small coastal towns, funky little desert motels, and old music venues.
She can make a mean margarita. When she’s not playing shows or working at the record store, Sienna loves hosting small hangouts. Her margaritas have earned her the unofficial title of "Palmview’s Best Bartender."
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Step up, cupcake :
Llewyn davis x reader
If you want to support me, take a look here 💕
https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile
Llewyn Davis slouched against the kitchen counter, his guitar leaning on the wall behind him. He was fiddling with an unlit cigarette, turning it over and over between his fingers. You were pacing, barefoot on the creaky wooden floors of the tiny apartment you shared. The place smelled faintly of coffee and the burnt toast Llewyn had abandoned hours ago.
"Y/N," Llewyn drawled, watching you like a cat observing a particularly interesting mouse. "You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor."
"I’m thinking," you snapped, your arms crossing tightly over your chest.
"About what? The meaning of life? Or which one of my strings you’re gonna cut next time you’re mad at me?" He smirked, clearly finding himself funnier than you did.
You halted mid-step, pointing a finger at him. "That string deserved it. You left my scarf at that—what was it?—Dingy’s bar, again!"
"Gaslight Café," he corrected, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "And it wasn’t just a scarf. It was your ‘lucky’ scarf. Real loss for the folk music scene."
You let out a frustrated groan, turning toward the sink to avoid launching a dish at his head. It had been a long day of typical Llewyn chaos: impromptu gigs, arguments with his manager, and a grand total of zero apologies.
"Why do you always do this?" you asked, turning back to face him. "It’s like—like you have this secret talent for making things ten times harder than they need to be."
He cocked his head, his smirk fading into something softer, though his voice remained infuriatingly calm. "It’s not a secret. I’ve been pretty upfront about being a pain in the ass, sweetheart."
You grabbed the nearest object—a dishrag—and threw it at him. He caught it easily, laughing. "Nice aim."
"Don’t test me, Davis," you warned.
"Wouldn’t dream of it," he said, though the corners of his mouth twitched as he tossed the rag back onto the counter.
The argument simmered, replaced by the usual, comforting rhythm of cohabitation. He strummed his guitar absently while you folded laundry on the bed. The tension was fading—until Llewyn, in his infinite wisdom, opened his mouth.
"So, about that gig in Jersey next week—"
You froze, a pair of socks in hand. "You’re not serious."
"I’m always serious about gigs, Y/N. Even the crappy ones," he replied, the guitar still in his lap.
"Jersey is three hours away," you said, turning to glare at him.
"Two and a half, if you drive like you’re trying to escape the fuzz."
"Which you would," you countered.
"Why don’t you just come with me?" he asked, as if that was a reasonable suggestion.
"Because I have a job, Llewyn. One of us has to pay rent."
His eyes flicked up, his expression unreadable. "Right. Forgot about that whole ‘responsible adult’ thing you’ve got going on."
You sighed, exasperated. "It’s not about being responsible. It’s about not wanting to waste my entire Saturday driving to Jersey for another bar that’ll pay you in free drinks and regret."
"Hey, sometimes they throw in pretzels," he said, grinning.
Later that evening, the two of you were walking back from the corner store, an old bag of groceries swinging between you. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the chill in the air made you clutch your coat tighter.
"I’m still mad at you," you said out of nowhere.
"For what? Jersey? The scarf? Existing?" he teased.
"Pick one," you shot back.
He stopped, turning to face you, his brow furrowing in mock seriousness. "You’re really mad at me for existing? Damn. That’s harsh, even for you."
You rolled your eyes and stepped up onto the curb to look him in the eye—though your footing wobbled precariously. His arm shot out, steadying you before you could tumble. His hand found your waist with infuriating ease.
"What...what are you doing?" you asked, flustered.
"Making sure you don’t fall, cupcake," he replied, deadpan.
Your frown deepened, and you looked down at his hand as if it were a foreign object. "I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of yelling at you without breaking my neck."
"Sure," he said, smirking as his grip lingered a second longer than necessary.
You stepped back onto the sidewalk, yanking your coat tighter around you. "You’re impossible."
"Yeah, but you’re still here," he pointed out, his tone softer now.
You glared at him, but the edge of your anger was dulled by his damnable, lopsided smile.
"Don’t read into it," you muttered. "I’m just here for the free pretzels."
"Good to know you’ve got priorities," he said, chuckling.
Back at the apartment, the tension melted away entirely. The argument about Jersey dissolved somewhere between you stealing his blanket on the couch and him complaining about your cold feet.
Later, as you lay tangled together, the guitar forgotten in the corner, Llewyn ran his fingers absentmindedly through your hair.
"You know," he said quietly, his voice losing its usual edge, "I’m not that bad. Once you get past the whole ‘walking disaster’ thing."
You snorted, your cheek pressed against his chest. "That’s a big ‘once.’"
He grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah, well, lucky for me, you’re terrible at making choices."
You lifted your head to glare at him, but his laugh was so warm, so genuine, that you couldn’t help but smile back.
"Shut up, Davis," you muttered, pushing his chest playfully.
"Make me," he challenged, pulling you back down.
The next morning, as you were making coffee, Llewyn shuffled into the kitchen, looking like a half-drowned cat.
"You’re out of milk," he announced.
"Maybe you should go to Jersey," you shot back.
He groaned. "What did I do to deserve this abuse?"
"You exist," you said sweetly, passing him a black coffee.
He took it, grinning over the rim of the cup. "Right. Forgot about that."
#llewyn davis#llewyn davis x reader#inside llewyn Davis#oscar isaac#oscar isaac character#oscar isaac characters
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‘ ———・❪ ✮ ❫ ・——— ’
‘ ———・❪ ✮ ❫ ・——— ’
These gals r a lil old I just forget 2 post them,, anyways Magical Girls I've been working on!! (I'll post the second group soon ^w^)
Aurelia ; “Aurelia is a shy and awkward person, never really being good with interacting with people; she always comes off as too annoying or too odd. She's always decided to just stay in her own bubble and do her own thing, whenever she does get comfortable with somebody she's very chatty and energetic and friendly.”
Marilyn ; “Marilyn is a very calm person being the most serious person of her group most of the time, she's very protective of those she cares for doing everything to keep them safe and healthy… she doesn't like talking about herself.”
Arashi ; “Arashi is laid-back and chill, being very mellow and doesn't take many things seriously except for her job & magical girl business. She's a bit hot tempered and will get into petty arguments for the fun of it, though she considers most folks her friend in some way.”
Briar ; “Briar is a flamboyant heartthrob, she's a bit bothersome when she meets people and commonly teases and plays with others and can come off as a bit vain, but deep down he's a sweetheart who cares about people deeply but just has expressing it.”
Louella ; “Louella is an optimistic person wanting to be nice towards anybody she comes across, though that causes her issues of putting others before herself and having a hard time standing up for herself. She has a tendency to underthink her accomplishments, making her work harder than she needs to.”
I need 2 figure out a name for their teams/story but I hope y'all enjoy!!
‘ ———・❪ ✮ ❫ ・——— ’
#kitty scribbles#magical girl oc#magical girls#my ocs#ocs#aurelia carter#marilyn gracewood#arashi shimizu#briar aubert#louella whitlock
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