#The colors are different from what i normally do

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[strnilolover]

player!chris notices ditsy!reader being hit on uninvitedly …

Thursdays were a particularly slow day for you — your lectures were spaced out and you had lots of free time between them. Normally you’d opt for going back to your dorm, maybe take a nap or read a book to your favorite series you were reading — or work on some of the class work for some of your courses with Chris.

But, today you had chosen differently. It was bright and sunny outside, the kind of warmth that was just right to sit in and enjoy without getting too overheated.

Your body weaved through people, holding your books close to your chest as you made your way to the fountain that sat in the middle of the campus grounds. Accidentally bumping into a few people when you got too lost in thought about different subjects — muttering a quick apology before continuing your route.

As you continued to walk across campus, you pulled out your phone from your bag to text Chris. You were supposed to meet up with him soon, but he hadn’t told you where he was yet, so you decided to let him know your plans.

You: Heading to the fountain. Meet me there when you’re free!

You tucked your phone back into your bag swiftly as you finally made it to the fountain. It’s gentle bubbling and colorful flowers surrounding it — it was the perfect place to lose yourself in a book. It wasn’t long before you found a seat on the stone ledge, setting your books down and opening the dog-eared paperback you always carried.

You hadn’t been reading long when a shadow had suddenly fell across your page. Looking up, you thought it was Chris, having finally made his way to where you were — but instead you saw a group of guys standing around you, their expressions cocky and intrusive.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” one of them said, grinning. Your brows furrowed, an uneasy feeling fluttering in your chest. “Hi,” you said softly, your grip tightening on your book.

“You waitin’ for someone?” another asked, stepping closer. “’Cause it looks like you’ve got some time to kill.” his voice had this undertone to it that you couldn’t place…they didn’t seem like they were wanting to be friendly.

“I’m just reading,” you replied, your voice small as you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Reading? What’s so interesting in there?” the first guy said, leaning down to get a better look. “Bet it’s some cheesy romance novel, huh?” he teased mockingly.

You shook your head, trying to focus back on your book. “It’s not cheesy.” you muttered, trying to take your focus off of them the best you could.

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing. “You don’t need to sit here reading by yourself. We could keep you company.” he cooed, a cocky grin being placed on his lips. “That’s okay,” you murmured, hoping they’d take the hint. But instead, one of them plopped down beside you, way too close for comfort.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he said, flashing a grin. “We’re just trying to be friendly.” — yeah a little too friendly. “Yeah,” another chimed in, crouching in front of you. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, “Um…” shrinking back slightly. “I’m fine, really. I just want to read.” The guy beside you chuckled, draping an arm across the back of the ledge. “Aw, don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to sit here all by yourself. We’re just trying to get to know you.”

Before you could respond, the one in front of you reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “She’s shy,” he said, smirking. “That’s adorable.”

You leaned back away from his touch, clutching your book to your chest. “Please don’t—” but before your sentence could fully leave your lips, a sharp voice cut through the tension between you and the guys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice made you jump, and all four of the guys froze, their heads snapping toward the source. Chris was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. His blue eyes flicked to you for a moment, softening briefly before narrowing on the group of guys.

“Oh, hey, Chris,” one of them said, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t know this was your girl.”

Chris stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Doesn’t matter if she’s mine or not. What the fuck gives you the right to corner her like that?” he bit out, his teeth gritting together so hard you thought he might break them.

“Relax, man,” the guy sitting beside you said, holding up his hands. “We were just talking.”

Chris’ brow raised. “Talking?” his voice was icy, his glare cutting. “This is what you call talking? Surrounding her, getting in her face, touching her without permission? You think that’s okay?” he spat out, his body coming closer until he was standing directly in front of them.

“Come on, Chris,” one of them said, rolling his eyes. “You’re one to talk. We’ve all seen you with girls. You’re with a different one every week.” he tried to argue.

Chris’s jaw tightened more, his fists clenching at his sides. “Yeah, I’ve been with girls. But you know what I don’t do? Corner them, harass them, or make them feel uncomfortable. Don’t even try to put me in the same category as you.” he said coldly, like it was the most dumbest statement someone had tried to ever make toward him.

The guys exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado faltering. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Chris continued, his voice rising. “She was sitting here reading, minding her own business. You don’t get to pull this crap and call it flirting.” and as he said that, the guy sitting next to you stood up — the others backing up slightly.

“Chill, man. It’s not that serious,” one of them mumbled, but he wouldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “It’s serious to me,” Chris snapped. “Now get the fuck outta here before I make you.”

The group hesitated, but one look at Chris’s furious expression was enough to send them retreating with muttered apologies. Chris waited until they were out of sight before turning to you, his expression softening instantly. “You okay angel?”

You nodded shakily, clutching your book to your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” you muttered. Chris crouched down in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. “They didn’t touch you, did they?” he whispered, bringing a hand up to gently touch your cheek,

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m okay. You got here just in time.” And Chris let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good. Because if they had…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. What were they even thinking?” he muttered — more to himself than you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “They just wouldn’t leave me alone.” you said, feeling the unease in your stomach pooling more at the thought, but lessening slightly. Chris frowned, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me walk you somewhere. I don’t trust those idiots not to come back.”

And you hesitated before slowly placing your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Chris,” you whispered, looking up at him, his hands reaching for your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

His smirk returned, though it was tinged with protectiveness. “Always angel. Nobody’s allowed to do that and just get away with it. They’re lucky i didn’t break their fucking jaws. fuckin’ assholes.” he muttered as he placed his arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the building with the food court.

As the two of you walked away together, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race — partly from the lingering nerves, but mostly from the way Chris looked at you — the way he protected you.

What was this feeling?

© strnilolover

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[hyukakisses]

— emo beomgyu as tate langdon

pairings: emo beomgyu x fem reader

plot: random headcanons of tate langdon beomgyu x fem reader

warnings: mentally ill/lovesick oreo gyu (my brand), sweet reader (also my brand), reader is also a little bit unwell, coquette reader (my brand sorry guys), ghost beomgyu, watered down tate langdon beomgyu basically, characters are virgins, faint smut

you absolutely hated your new house. you hated how dark and gloomy everything was. what was your parents’ obsession with the color black anyway? you preferred to be in the walls of your pretty pink bed room more than anything now because of the new area.

you also would hear faint footsteps and maybe people talking coming from your attic but whatever you were probably just hearing things “i think i have mommy issues” beomgyu randomly inquires to the hidden ghosts around the house. “you guys know a therapist?”

if you weren’t a scaredy cat then you can definitely consider yourself one now with the way your heart jumped out of your chest at the sight of an unknown male in your living room. “a-and you are?” you ask with a shaky voice, cursing yourself for having anxiety. “im beomgyu, your dad’s my therapist” the oreo haired male replies with a small smile making you relax a bit.

from that day on beomgyu knew he was enchanted by you, always bringing you up to your father hoping for any little information about you. “are you ready to talk about to talk about your relationship with your mother?” “your daughter’s over eighteen right?” “yes but what exactly does that have to do with your mother?”

beomgyu liked to watch you throughout the house, you were so different compared to him. the way you wore pink and collected plushies really just made the emo boy like you more.

beomgyu couldn’t help himself when he saw you laying peacefully on your bed reading the manga nana he thought you looked so sweet and vulnerable. “can i read with you?” his smile grew at your scared face, “did i scare you? your dad said i could hangout with you after our session” lie but whatever

beomgyu would use trauma dumping as a way of getting closer to you; at first you thought that was a bit weird but you brushed it off.

the boy was extremely emo but that’s okay because you liked how he was in touch with his emotions. you thought beomgyu was so cool and emotional mature

when you found out you beomgyu never received a gift before you immediately went to your front yard cutting fresh flowers. “i painted it black, i know you don’t like normal things” you hand a black painted rose to beomgyu this action making him stammer out a “you’re the first girl to get me a flower”

you were shocked when beomgyu opened up about being a ghost to you; “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”“because how does one exactly tell somebody that ‘hey im a ghost wanna hookup?”’

definitely into soft sex and the nurturing type. praising you and trying his best to pleasure you even if he’s a loser virgin too :( “did it hurt? i heard losing your virginity as a girl usually does” beomgyu would ask you with his puppy eyes genuinely worried he hurt you

on halloween he takes you to the beach, beomgyu doesn’t really like swimming much less the ocean but he thinks the beach is peaceful at night

he would definitely be the little spoon but if you were having a bad day he would rush to big spooning you; letting you use him as a human teddy bear/tissue

definitely a homebody (not like he had much of a choice), you two would watch twilight on loop while listen to his favorite bands such as the neighborhood, arctic monkeys and nirvana

beomgyu is the over protective type when he finds you’ve been bullied in highschool he goes ballistic and lures your tormenters into the house and scares them into leaving you alone with the house’s supernatural elements.

at first you were a bit frightened at what beomgyu did but nonetheless you thanked him with a hug, you thought beomgyu going as far as attacking the people who hurt you was the most romantic thing ever

definitely steals your dad’s credit cards to get you gifts delivered to the house, because if they wanted they would

beomgyu was insecure at times needing your reassurance; “are you planning on leaving me? you’re all i want and all i have you know” “i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want” his teary eyes bore into yours before you gently run your fingers through his hair reassuring him that you loved him ):

a/n: it’s tate langdon ahs fall season until december 1st idc

[satorushellokittypjs]

🩵Crush!Gojo x Fem!reader🩵

•

‼️MDNI 18+‼️

•

There you were, standing in a abandoned classroom, back against the wall. How did you end up like this? Simple, someone snitched, telling your coworker, The Satoru Gojo, that you had a big crush on him. And as silly as it sounded, you thought Gojo wouldn’t care. But no, in fact, he cared quite a lot.

So here you were, a foot away from him, the man you’ve been daydreaming about at Jujutsu High for about five months now. How did you keep yourself from getting noticed thus far? Because you would discreetly stare at him every so often, talk to him normal even though your sweetness level went up a notch, and you kept your daydreams to yourself.

Until your other nosy coworker, who you thought was a decent friend, went out drinking with you and your secrets were revealed easily. Damn were you able tell the truth while drunk, you’ll never do that again.

So you stood here, your eyes softly wide when Gojo sighed and shook his head. “So you’re just like all the other women huh?” He shrugged, arms out as he sighed again. “Just can’t get enough of The Satoru Gojo?”

Even with his blindfold on, it’s insane how it feels like he’s still staring into your soul. But something sours the pit of your stomach, what does he mean by that?

“You know, i’m so used to it by now it’s quite hilarious.” He crossed his arms. “women all the time going crazy over me, trying to get me to either sleep with them, marry then, hell just get my number. It’s very hilarious actually” he began to laugh, the one that always sends you butterflies, but right now, the butterflies feel dead due to his words.

“I am pretty hot though, so i get it. But seriously, i wasn’t expecting this from you ya know? You seem better then them..or so i thought.” He shrugged yet again, he’s just so nonchalantly telling you that your pretty much like every other girl that you’re just out for his fame, money, and body. And that..that hurt.

“Gojo..i..” you began to speak, “please that’s not what i..”

Gojo slowly looked back over at you, tilting his head. “Hmm? Let me guess that’s not what you meant? You’re better then other girls?” He chuckled softly. “I’ve heard it before, y/n, you don’t have to say anything more.”

It was there that the venom struck, and yet, if you could have listened through the venom, you would have heard his own venom striking himself. For he’s never met a woman who honestly cares for him in that way.

He then shook his head, “either way, just wanted to let your mind understand, get the drama over with and what not. So, i’ll see you around, yeah? Byee~” he began to walk towards the door

“That’s not why i like you..”

He stopped in his tracks. Why were you still talking? He was confused. He said his peace, he was sure he was right. He always is.

“I like you not for your money, trust me. I don’t like you because your the strongest sorcerer, because your The Satoru Gojo. I’d like you even if you weren’t that..”

His breathing stopped. He slowly turned to show he was paying attention, yet your head was down at the floor. Your face was of different color, showing how embarrassed you were and yet..

And yet you wanna tell him your true reasoning. Maybe just maybe, he’ll believe you.

“I love how caring you are for your students, you cater to each of their needs and show them you how you care through each word and action. Your more then just a weapon, youre human. You show you have feelings, i know cause i see it, especially in your actions.”

He stayed silent, letting you finish.

“I love your laughter and smile each time you see your students succeed, when you see your friends or coworkers, your almost always in a good mood, even when youre down and out, you always try to show people your strong.”

You began to gulp softly, the room was quiet and you closed your eyes as you lifted your head. “A-and i’d be damned if i didn’t love you being you, the man that shows his love and care of people by saving the world with his own life on the line, the man that will do anything for his students, would do anything for his friends.”

You then began to ramble because now you’re just a shy mess from all your confessions, “and i like how you always buy everyone souvenirs when your off on missions, always wanting to gift people. The way you love sweets so much is quite damn adorable and—“

“Y/n..”

You froze, eyes shutting tighter and your face burning up even more. ‘Damn’, you thought, ‘i said too much’.

You suddenly feel fingers holding your chin, the sudden contact caused your eyes to shoot open. That’s when you realized he’s a few inches away.

“Gojo..i…i’m sorry i..”

“Why are you sorry.” He began to use his other hand to take off his blind fold, letting it slide down his face to hang around his neck.

In seconds you were staring into his ever crystal glowing eyes and it was like your heart and body began to feel butterflies, the kind that were alive and going crazy.

“I believe you, y/n..there no need to say any more.” He leaned in closer, lifting your chin more to look at him. “You..you are different. And for once..i was..wrong..” he chuckled soft and bitterly but more or so to himself. “You really like me that much?”

Your eyes entranced into his, all you could do was nod, but you were indeed telling the truth. Yeah your crush has grown to a full on like, even now after your own confessions you realize this.

“Heh..that’s good to know, Y/n..in fact..here.” He leaned away, getting his phone out, opening it up and giving it to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’d like to keep in contact more.” He smiled a pure shy grin, that you could tell he was seriously shy for you.

You took his phone with a shaky hand and begun to put in your name and number. Afterwards giving it back and whispering. “Are you..blushing?”

His eyes widened and he really began to blush, his pale skin the brightest reddish pink you’ve ever seen.

“S-shut up, y/n” he began to laugh, and there it was again, and this time, the butterflies inside you burn with passion.

He then did something that made you blush, and that was leaning in and kissing your cheek ever so softly. His lips lightly feathering there, quite smooth to the touch.

“We better get going..i’ll text you later, better be prepared” he put his blindfold back up over his eyes and he waved and turned to walk away.

You blinked and quickly walked with him. “Be..prepared for what?”

He turned and stuck his tongue out, “you’ll see later~~”

[tellyouily]

maybe stay here forever

dnf - couch cuddles - 1.4k words

george likes dream's sweater and patches seems to like it too

There is this sweater that Dream wears sometimes, a dark blue half-zip fleece with leather patches on the elbows and deep, warm pockets, that George is a little bit obsessed with.

Of course, the pockets are mostly there to be used by whoever is wearing the sweater, not by his best friend slash boyfriend who constantly has cold hands, but it’s a nice benefit. Not to mention that Dream also happens to look especially great in it, all broad and soft and rugged—especially with a few days worth of stubble on his face and his curls a little messy.

Which has been the case for most of the time these recent weeks, much to George’s contentment.

If someone were to ask him about it, though, he would maintain that he likes the blue sweater a normal amount. Give or take. And he might bring himself to admit that it’s the person wearing it who he likes more than just a little. An abnormal amount, you could say. A ludicrous amount.

He’ll admit that happily.

After searching high and low for the past ten minutes, he finally finds Dream in the guest house, of all places. He’s on the couch with his legs outstretched and his laptop—surprise, surprise—perched on his lap. Somehow, Patches has fit herself on his chest, too, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder like a baby. She must have ventured in here looking for him, too.

And she must have taken one look at the dark blue sweater Dream is wearing and deemed it a nice place to take a nap.

George doesn’t appreciate that she succeeded on that quest before he did.

“Hey you,” he says, announcing his presence. He leans his back on the door to close it.

Dream looks up and stretches, lifting a hand to the back of his head. His screen casts a soft glow on his face, and George would bet good money that either gmail dot com or his editing software is currently filling it. Or both. Dream likes the split-screen function.

“Hey you,” Dream echoes, making George smile as he nudges past the coffee table to join him.

This is really not a couch that can fit two people lying down, it can barely fit one if he’s honest, but Dream scooches closer to the back pillow and lifts his arm as a wordless invitation.

George does not need to be asked twice, climbing into position. He feels like he’s precariously close to the edge, but then Dream wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him close, and he relaxes like he’s been given a sedative.

Patches stirs ever so slightly at the commotion, giving George what he’s sure is a pointed look.

“She took my spot,” he mumbles, frowning at her and watching her simply close her eyes again and let out a sigh.

Dream’s hand comes to rest near the waistline of George’s sweatpants, his fingers grazing the sliver of skin where his hoodie has ridden up.

“There’s two spots,” he says gently.

And he’s right, of course. And really, George thinks it’s a good sign that Patches has chosen this as her desired nap location. She’s a smart cat and if this is the safest, warmest place she could think of, then he trusts her judgment wholeheartedly.

He would probably do the same if he was a cat. He’s even doing it now, as a human.

Only now does the laptop screen in front of him come into focus, showing something entirely different from what he was willing to bet money on. It’s a sports game of some kind—football? Or is that rugby?

All he knows is that each team is wearing a different color and that they are both running around on the field trying to win. And that Dream might be a furnace in disguise with how warm he is. Mostly the last thing.

“What are you watching?” George asks.

“Football game,” he answers, followed by a soft huff of amusement. “That you don’t care about.”

“I care a lot, actually.”

“Uh huh.” His smile is audible. “I’m sure it’s so interesting to you.”

George nods into the folds of the fleecy fabric. “It is. I love it,” he lies, making Dream laugh.

The game on screen seems to go on some kind of break and the camera pans to the players standing around, leaning on their knees, out of breath, and to the crowd and muted discussion between the referee and who George assumes is one of the team captains. Dream sighs and presses a kiss on the top of George’s head.

“If it was soccer you’d care,” he says. “ Actually care.”

George hums in a way that means yes. Real football, you mean , he would have said if he wasn’t so comfortable that he is tempted to let sleep overtake him. Take a page out of Patches’ book.

He’s surrounded by the kind of warmth that reminds him of his childhood. Of coming back inside from playing in the snow and getting to sit by the fireplace and watch cartoons to get the feeling back in his fingers. It’s more than enough to make him want to succumb to sleep.

Dream’s palm coming to rest fully on his bare stomach makes him blink. On screen, the game has started back up and so has the faint sound of cheering coming from the speakers.

With some difficulty, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. If he is to keep himself awake while lying here, watching American football is not the way to do it.

He uses Dream’s chest to prop up his phone and lets his thumb swipe past X and over to Reddit instead. 

Some of the posts are worth reading, others he scrolls past. It doesn’t take long for Dream’s attention to inevitably get pulled to his screen, as well, abandoning the game. George doesn’t blame him. He can tell that he’s reading, concentrating, by the way his hand starts drawing mindless shapes on his hip. He tries to move as little as possible in hopes that Dream won’t realize that he’s doing it and possibly stop.

They’re halfway through a particularly technical post about the motion detection system they’ve set up for the titan when a message from Sapnap pops up at the top of his screen.

Something stupid, of course. So stupid he might have just ignored it had it not been for the way he feels Dream smile against his temple.

George snorts. “What an idiot.”

He swipes down and types an even more stupid reply, making Dream turn his head away to laugh. Really laugh.

George grins. He knew that would get him. He’s much funnier than Sapnap could ever dream of being. “What’s so funny?”

Dream answers by burrowing his face into the back of his neck, his quiet laughter getting muffled by the hood of his hoodie. He’s in that kind of mood, George thinks; the one where he could say anything and Dream would find it funny.

It’s his favorite Dream-mood by far. He would know—he has them all cataloged.

“I should be a comedian,” he says, if only to prove his point—which it does.

“No, your guys’ humor is like, fucked,” Dream says, clearing his throat.

George sighs and clicks his phone off, moving his head back so he can see Dream’s face.

“You like it though,” he counters, running his hand over the stubble along his jaw.

Just then, Patches’s ears start to twitch and they both glance over at her, watching as she opens her eyes and stretches out her paws so far that they poke against George’s bottom lip.

“Oh no,” Dream says softly, petting her head with his free hand.

“Good riddance,” George mumbles, feeling a sense of smugness at the look of discontent he is sure that she gives him.

It’s not like they’re in a competition for Dream’s attention—except that they are, and he won it the second he walked into the room.

Dream shakes his head at his comment, but his amused-by-everything-George-says-smile hasn’t left. Patches stands up and hops onto the back of the couch, and then onto the floor, going off to somewhere quieter.

Good riddance.

“Guess she’s not a football fan,” Dream says.

George presses closer just because he can, hitching his leg up higher across Dream’s.

“Good thing I am,” he says, closing his eyes.

Dream shakes his head, his hand finding his thigh. “You’re an idiot, is what you are”

And George might like Dream’s sweater, but he thinks he likes making him laugh even more.

[imaginative-joy]

Commissions are open on my Etsy!!! These are original pencil sketches with one or two colors, drawn on animation paper (so the holes at the bottom are normal). Read on for details!

I offer four different options:

- $40 Single Character Bust (drawn from top of the head to the shoulders)

- $70 Two Character Bust (drawn from top of the head to the shoulders)

- $55 Single Pet or other Animal (I can do a bust or full body)

- $65 Single Character Bust with a Pet (person will be drawn to the shoulders. If the pet is small enough, I can fit the full body in. Otherwise, both the person and the pet will be busts)

On my Etsy, choose which option you'd like from the drop down menu, and then fill out the Personalization box with what you'd like me to draw. If you have any reference images you need to send me (such as pet photos), please send them to me via DM. I'm okay with doing real people (they'll be drawn in my style), animals (fantasy and pets), OCs/DnD characters, and fanart.

Sketches will take up to two weeks max to draw. If you need a sketch sooner than two weeks, please send me a DM; there may be an additional fee for rush jobs. Once the sketch is finished, I'll ship it off to you, and you'll receive a tracking number. Shipping time is dependent on the type of shipping service you choose and where you live.

Since these are personalized sketches, I do NOT accept returns or exchanges. If the art is damaged during the mailing process, please let me know and we can discuss the best way to proceed (in the case of damaged mail, sometimes a refund can come directly from the mail provider).

Here's what I will NOT draw:

- Mecha and vehicles

- NSFW (light fluffy romance is okay; NO SPICE!)

- Gore/Violence (characters holding weapons and small wounds are okay)

- Full body people (if you have a special request, there will be an additional fee)

Read the whole thing? Awesome! If you have any questions, please send me a DM!

[s-wave-entertainment]

Oh also I wanted to share this bc I feel that you, Murder Drones audience (particularly nuzi audience), may appreciate it:

I've only had Murder Drones invade my dreams once, and it was Wild because all I remember is this one super vivid moment but I know there's some buried storyline here.

Basically I wasn't an entity in the dream, my POV was just like a camera; an unacknowledged audience watching what was going on. Somehow, I was witnessing an exchange between N and the Solver that was happening inside of N's own head. I forget exactly what the details of the conversation were, but it had something to do with N agreeing to a complete memory wipe in exchange for... something, probably someone's safety. And like normally when I envision an exchange between two people inside of some hivemind or just shared mental space it's either in the form of the both of them sat at a table in a room which has an atmosphere that corresponds to the "host's" personality, or just a pitch black space. What was interesting about this was that this is NOT what I was seeing in the dream - N and the Solver were communicating in a bright turquoise space that had all these streaks of color and had some memories playing on mute on like these "screens." I felt this important to say because as soon as they negotiated that N would give everything up and do whatever it wanted, there was something like the Solver's little warning box in ep. 2 and 5 - yk, the one that read "IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU ARE IN RANGE" ? - that read something different, and then everything just like. Purged.

Like the surroundings were all colorful the whole exchange, then the little text box popped up and it all started fading to gray. And the "camera" kind of panned over to other areas of his mind as they were being purged, and in one area the turquoise shifted to purple, and the little screen in that area was playing presumably memories with Uzi. The area was just starting to go gray, and though I couldn't see N or the Solver anymore I didn't need to see his face to know that he was Mortified, because I sure as hell heard him.

From behind the camera (me), I could just hear "Wait, no, no, STOP!" and the gray froze in place, leaving just the purple area and the screen inside it. I heard the Solver reply "I thought a deal was a deal?" To which N replied "I-it is, it is. You can take everything you want, but... not her. Please, not her." Everything was quiet for a second before I heard it reply "Very well."

Unfortunately that's where the segment ended. It was a while ago so I don't remember if that's when I woke up or just when my brain decided to switch plots for funsies, but Goddamn I think about that a lot and now maybe you will too, lmao

[moookar]

arthur and john reading poetry in a garden, for the painting asks???? i know it would be lovely in your style <3333

I put them in a park in early fall because I’m SO ready for summer to be over. Arthur remaining blind even after separation has a very special place in my heart

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

The General's Daughter

@g-backto505

[loveletterworm]

fall guys miku fanart (fall guys miku fanart)

[marblerose-rue]

click for better quality!

are you gonna start climbing, or what? / needletail

[sergle]

I think my favorite thing about doing ginger red hair instead of cherry red hair is: lying to people about it

[lunarkittenn]

I rarely take pictures anymore. It’s like I just don’t want to remember any moment from this part of my life lol

[jamiethebeeart]

I'm so very very normal about Dani, I promise (lineart by @five-rivers ) @green-with-envy-phandom-event

[dasistmeinpferd]

charia + little sisters