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simp4konig · 8 months ago

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Okay okay I have to ask, what’s your fav head canons of Nikto then? I love hearing other people’s ideas and head canons of cod characters ^^ 💕

Ngl, i get inspired by other people's headcanons, and i make headcanons off THEIR headcanons 🥲👍… I'm unoriginal 😔💔

SOOOO, im “” Tagging”” (by that i mean putting // after the @ so the original creators dont get the notifcation for this LMAO=) blogs whose own works inspired me to create my own headcanons 🥰❤️

General Nikto Headcanons ❤️

Word Count: 1,584.

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ☆ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

Allusions to NSFW beneath the cut! Readers are warned.

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Blunt and straight to the point. Sees no rhyme nor reason in beating around the bush and sugarcoating his words. As a result, he can be viewed as insensitive and lacking in empathy.

Impatient, and has a short fuse, so blows up often. Only you are able to be the calm after his storm, subduing him with soft reassurances and whispered words.

To say that he is possessive would be an understatement — he is extremely territorial.

After his torture, he is wary of the few things that he posesses and can actually call his own (you). His biggest phobia is losing you, and his irrational fear is someone stealing you away. Any prick unlucky enough to not catch on to you two dating will be lucky enough to survive the beating that he is given.

On that note, he is simultaneously self-assured, and insecure.

His mask is a part of him, and personal. It will take him months for him to shed said part of him.

Constantly fears that you will leave him once he reveals his face to you, so puts it off for as long as he possibly can. The day that he takes off his mask, only for you to be so casual about it and passing it off as your day-to-day, is the day that became cemented in his hard, stony heart.

Has conflicting views towards marriage. On the one hand, is an official document declaring your relationship really so necessary? Isn't an expensive wedding superfluous, and too sensational? To him, all of that is redundant — he's yours, and you're his…

…On the other hand, a glistening ring on your finger invokes a primal desire to make you more his than you are already. It would be a declaration of a love which even death wouldn't do part. Maybe he should pay more attention to the rings on display at the jewellery stores you pass by when shopping occasionally together.

An introverted man, who finds solace in solitude; excluding you, his partner, he has no companions, and rarely associates with anyone else. The voices in his head are bothersome enough, so why does he need additional voices bothering him? With that said, you would think that your presence would be a bother — especially with your mindless chatter when Nikto doesn't grunt at the idle small talk at times, wholly unresponsive for the majority of the time — but the moment you give any indication of leaving, he seizes your wrist, his cold, icy eyes silently pleading for you to stay. And you do. You always do.

Bringing me onto my next point: he is a good listener. Your ramblings are all that to you; ramblings. To Nikto, however, it's his chance to unpick all the information about you, down to the littlest of details. You wrongly assume that your words fall on deaf ears, but he listens, and he memorises every opinion you have, every statement you make, and even the small anecdotes that you share, which becoming engraved in his brain. He goes over every sentence religiously, as if it was the Bible.

He has an exceptionally good memory, tending to remember things that you had forgotten. Mention something that you craved in passing? He would surprise you with it the next time you bring it up. Alluded to someone who insulted you and ruined your day? Well, it would be no surprise that that person would never ruin your day ever again.

He is like a cat in the sense that he is an unwanted stray. However, when you came to want him, it dawned on you that he was no cat, but a panther. A predator — savage, vicious.

He would kill for you, no questions asked (He has already done it, but you don't know about that. After all, you hadn't asked him that question yet, only in jest. Truth be told, he has made so many death threats that you have become desensitised to them, dismissing them as nothing more than that: threats).

He would have died for you (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE @//charliemwrites’s DEPICTIONNOF NIKTO IN THIS SCENE??????? HAD ME ON MY KNEES 🛐💍🧎🏼‍♀️ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE VI NEED HIM SOVBAD); however, when you were hyperventilating as you sobbed and were close to reaching hysterics, that's when he realised that he should value his life more.

Incredibly stealthy. You've seen his execution animations… 🤒 Uses that stealth to sneak up on you whenever your guard is down to smack your ass. 🤭

Insomnia troubles him at night, the relief of sleep rarely coming to him; therefore, he tends to be nocturnal, buying groceries and going about the usual errands you would have otherwise done during the day. When you wake up, that empty fridge is magically stocked with your favourite food, your bear snoozing sometimes — most of the time he stares at you like a creep. 💀 /aff

When he does sleep, it tends to be during the day, and it's almost as if he is a bear entering hibernation

He sleeps like a plank — on his back, his arms by his sides, and his legs straight. You'll curl onto his side, your head on his chest, his legs between your core, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

Snores. REALLY loud. 😬 ONLY when you are in his arms 🙄 — when he sleeps alone, he is eerily silent.

Subsequently finding him laying in bed, still and silent, you were sobbing, thinking that he died in his sleep. Finally, after minutes of shaking him awake, he opened one eye, and grumbled groggily: “Дорогая, shut up. I am not dead. Not when I have you to live for. Now, come.”

Once he is asleep, good luck getting him to wake up again; unless you somehow manage to disentangle yourself from his arms — only then, when his myshka is missing, does he begrudgingly get up from bed, stand outside the bathroom door, and whisk you back to bed, willfully ignoring your complaints.

Proud of being your protector. Always has his hand[s] on you in some way or other, protectively keeping you by his side.

Has 20/20 vision, and perfect hearing.

Don't mistake his opening of pickle jars and water bottles for you as chivalry — he is taking advantage of it to show off his muscles for you. Doesn't want you to ask if you want to cup a squeeze of his bicep — when he sees you staring, he will forcibly take your hand and put it on his arm, positively smirking beneath that mask of his.

Has a staring problem and is unashamed of it. From his point of view, there is no problem in staring at you all day and every day.

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Eye contact with him is intense. Whenever you avert your gaze, he instantly grabs your chin to angle it so it's facing him. Eye contact during sex is a given.

Despite not wanting to be a father, he has an insatiable breeding kink (does not care whether you are a female, a male, an infertile female, or other — he is delusional in that sense).

Although he isn't against children per se — mainly indifferent to them, if I'm honest — wouldn't want to pass on the generational trauma onto his brood. He would prefer his bloodline ending with him.

His dirty talk is so filthy that you get wet from just his voice and innuendo. (Thank you @//xoxunhinged for your headcanon 😫💦)

His animalistic instincts are so prominent that you've become convinced that he purrs whenever you stroke that sensitive spot on his scalp, and growls in between grunts as he thrusts into you.

Is rough, leaving dark hickeys and bruises, but he would never, ever hurt you. He's rougher than most, but has sufficient self-restraint to be realise ahead of time if he is making you uncomfortable.

You are his deity, and he worships you — if he was to ever hurt you, he would enter a state of loathing. Since you were a merciful God, he would take the liberty of punishing himself — retribution suited to his crime.

One time you two were play wrestling and he almost dislocated your hip on accident. He didn't touch you again for at least two weeks, until he finally considered himself worthy of your touch.

Is dominant in bed, for two major reasons: because he prefers exerting the control which was forced upon him, relishing in having you submit to him; manhandling you to showcase his strength

A third reason is because if you were to ever top him, he'd cum embarrassingly quickly.

Probably gets off to being stronger than you. Deliberately puts you in positions which render you powerless, only able to take what he gives you.

Whenever you enter his room, he always sits in the darkness. Insists: “I do not need lights. Lights are wasted when I can see in the dark.”

Which is true... but it is also a pretence to hide the concerningly detailed shrine taking up an entire wall, dedicated to you. You'll come to find all of your lost trivial belongings when you mistakenly flick on the light switch.

His loyalty and devotion is unparalleled to any other's. He is utterly and unashamedly down bad for you, and he is willing to do anything and everything to keep it that way.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to do much, because you, too, love him. A lot.

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A/N I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIMI NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEEDH IM I NEED—

Yeaah i thought comparing him to a panther would be cool 🐈‍⬛

“Guard dog” and just anything to do with a “dog” is an overused trope to me at this point 😐. Dont get me wrong!!!! , it doesnt mean that i dont LIKE the trope!!!! , but my own interpretation of Nikto is a little different, abd i think it suits him better,, Esp bc panthers technically 🤓☝️ do *not* exist, which links to how the definition of his name in Russian is “Nobody” :)

An unconventional animal for a very unconventionally attractive man😽,,

Anyways, it is time for a cigarette 🚬🤏😪. I will return in approximately 56 business days (trust me guys 😋✌️).

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bookshelfdreams · 4 months ago

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I know it's been half a year and I don't feel like digging up the original post rn but I finally got started ooooonnnnn

✨The American Duchess Wrap Cape✨

Carol Kimball made a printable version of the pattern which she generously shares for free on her blog along with instructions for alterations and assembly (PLUS pockets! And a hood!). This is what I'll be working with.

I forgot to take a picture, but I'm using a grey-green (sage? I'd call this sage) boiled wool as top fabric, and dark blue flannel for the lining. Because I am an idiot, and also due to my general hubris, I have forgone the mockup. Instead, i decided to try on every pattern piece as I go along and see what alterations it needs. I am sure I will not regret this.

(I do have a lot of fabric, so there's room for error. When I bought it earlier this year I thought I would do the hood, but I have since decided against it - with the colour, a hood would make me look like some twee forest creature. Not that that wouldn't be an amazing fashion concept. Unfortunately, hoods don't work great with scarves and shawls, so no hood this time.)

First (after printing and taping together the pattern pieces) was extending the shoulder seam. The original pattern has tiny shoulders, which might work fine for some (although, tbh, even the og pictures of AD's reconstruction seem to fit the model kinda awkwardly), but for me, too small. Kimball recommends making a sort of bulge on the front piece so it actually goes over the bust, which I did; I freehanded it and figured I would cut it out, sew in the darts and then check if it fits.

I wasn't sure how to mark where to put the darts without cutting up the pattern. In the end, I just put a little bit of white thread through the start and end points, pulled off the paper and tied them off loosely. That worked really well, and it made folding the darts easier, too.

Anyway, the front piece seemed to fit! So I used it to adjust the pattern for the lining, cut out the two front pieces, and put in the darts there. Then I cut open the darts, finished the seams that needed finishing, and pressed all my seams, as if I knew what I was doing and wasn't a chaotic craft gremlin.

Next, I cut out the back piece (the pattern prints only one half, but I mirrored it and then taped the two halves together, so I wouldn't have to fumble around trying to cut it on the fold. That would not have ended well) in both top and lining, sewed them together with the according front pieces at the shoulders, and pressed the seams again.

Then I ran out of blue sewing thread. But since it's 20:00 anyway, and my sewing machine is very loud, I'll be a considerate neighbour and stop with the noise-heavy activities. Tomorrow I'll have to go to the inferior craft store (the good one is closed on tuesdays) to get some fusible interfacing for the collar and pockets (up next!). Also blue thread.

(The cat was helping, as always)

#it doesnt sound like i did a lot written out #but im kinda exhausted ngl #crafts #wrap cape

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winterrrnight · 1 year ago

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“and so we meet” — new beginnings chapter I

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: this is just the first chapter, so please please bare with me as it’s certainly not the best, and it’s also very short. the plot will pick up speed as we move along, and there’s so much planned for the three of them!! if you enjoyed reading it, please reblog, and share your thoughts with me 🍂

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

next chapter ->

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Sage! Don’t run off like that!” You yell out, watching the little figure giggling as she rushes in one of the aisles of the grocery stores you're in. No matter how hard you try, you can never try to control your daughter, she’s like a little energy packet.

But you also trust her, knowing she won’t pick something unknown off the shelves and open it up, or bother someone in the store. Letting her have her fun, you direct your attention to the vegetables you initially came to shop for.

As you’re filling up your basket with everything you may need, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You hear a masculine voice along with the throat clearing, and you turn around to see a strange man with your daughter next to him, her holding onto his hand.

“Sage what did you do?” You say sternly, picking her up in your arms. “I’m so sorry about that, she’s one little restless child,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” the stranger says, and you look up to see the most alluring pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. “She was just running around and crashed into me without realizing,”

“Oh- oh Sage you’ve got to control yourself!” You tell her, but your daughter only giggles at your words. “Again, I’m so sorry about her,”

The stranger chuckles. “It really is okay, she’s really cute,”

A moment of silence drapes around you both, as you’re looking at your shoes and the stranger is looking around. There is something so odd about this person, something so oddly attractive that isn’t letting you go of this situation you’re in quicker.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you…” you trail off, not knowing what name to put on this face.

“Oh- Rafe,” he smiles at you.

“Rafe. It was nice meeting you Rafe, I hope we’ll see you again someday,” you smile, as you start to push your cart with one hand, and your daughter on your hip.

“Byeeee!” She says excitedly with a fit of giggles, waving at the man vigorously. You hear him chuckle at her actions, and you can’t help but let a smile grace your face.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

As you’re strapping Sage into her car seat, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Rafe.

“Rafe?” You ask quizzically, not sure why your next meeting should be this soon.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but you left these,” he puts out his hand and you see your keys on his palm, “keys while you were packing everything up,”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, realizing those are your house keys. “Thank you so much Rafe, we’ve been bothering you so much today,” you laugh nervously.

“Nonsense, I’ve loved meeting you two,” he smiles at you and looks at Sage through the window, but she’s already asleep.

“Well, thank you again,” You smile as you start to make your way to the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t catch your name!” He says out loud, just as you’re about to close your car door.

“It’s y/n, don’t forget us,” you tease, and you drive away. Rafe watches your car drive away with a smile on his face and a beat in his heart.

“Oh I definitely won’t.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld

(please let me know if you would like to be added or removed! if you would like to be added to my general taglist, please refer the ‘join my taglist’ post linked on top!)

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thevixenwitch · 4 days ago

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Metaphysical Shop Red Flags:

Little bit of a disclaimer on this one: This post is made from my personal experience. If you have a small business, this post is not about you, but hey if some of these things stand out to you, maybe it's worth analyzing your business model.

I am someone that's been active in irl and online pagan and witch spaces for over a decade now, and am compiling this from my own experiences, as well as those of my partners. I'm also a tad anti-capitalist, so an alternative title for this post could be "How to Spot if You're Actually that Metaphysical Shop's Cash Cow".

Now, let's get started.

Unknown or unethically sourced White Sage is a really noticeable starting place. Once I was at a market and saw cute smoke cleansing bundles with dried flowers and cinnamon sticks and quartz points, very pretty, very flashy! But when I asked where the Sage was sourced, the lady manning the booth said they were from Amazon. Some sellers value visual appeal to make a sale over anything else.

Overt appropriation via bulk, drop shipped items like “smudging” tools, dream catchers, etc. This list of items can vary dramatically based on who owns the shop, what practices exist in your area, so it’s good to educate yourself on how to spot appropriation. This does NOT mean ethically sourced options that benefit marginalized communities, that’s what we want to insist our local shops have for us to buy!

On that note, a lack of local creators and/or sourcing in general. Not every store has a goal of being a community hub, but beyond that they are still very visible aspects of the community. It strikes me as very odd that I can more reliably buy locally sourced herbs from a random gift shop than I can from a metaphysical store no matter which state I’m in.

Crystals with no information about where they were sourced. There is a growing issue with the intense demand for crystals that has caused an increase in unethical sources, so knowing where your purchases come from is important. Compare prices at metaphysical shops to those at your local rock shop, especially if you are lucky enough to have one run by gemologist, geologist, or rockhound. I have talked about this already elsewhere, so I won’t bog down this post too much with it. The short of it is, transparency is a green flag.

This one may be controversial, but dramatic markups in general. Don’t be afraid to compare prices to other places, particularly other local options if they are available. A few dollars variance is normal, but a huge markup should be obvious. Things like location can have a huge impact on price, which is good to keep in mind. The availability and price of something can vary wildly based on that factor alone, but that’s why I recommend checking against other options within your area. Do remember that comparing to Amazon prices isn’t fair to small businesses, and “cheap” is not the goal here.

If the contents of the store are all drop-shipped, or bulk stock that can definitely be something to keep an eye out for. If the place is full of items you can actually look up on Amazon, that may be worth paying attention to.

Prevalence of well-known problematic authors. If they have Silver Ravenwolf on a central display, that’s always something that tells me a shop prioritizes making a sale over providing quality products. If there’s an overwhelming presence of Lewellyn published books with minimal alternatives, that shows a lack of care for diversity or quality control.

AI items. Let’s be so for real here. Walking into a shop and seeing an obviously AI generated altar cloth with gibberish symbols all over it is a bad thing. I’ll talk more on the rising presence of AI that’s very negatively influencing the quality of information available in the pagan community at a later time.

Bulk resin and 3D printed items. We’ve all seen them, the vendor at a fair with an army of dozens of jointed dragons, or ten resin-cast, glitter-filled Gaia statues that light up! All so sparkly, colorful, and eye-catching. I’d implore anyone to learn more about how much plastic waste is involved in bulk production of low-quality products like this.

What my wife likes to call “Apple Store vibes”. Call me traditional, but when a store is all sleek white lines and tidy, understocked shelves, I know I’m in for some of the highest prices for incense I’ve ever seen. These stores are meant to bring in people with money burning a hole in their pocket, and that’s often reflected in the visually appealing kitsch that never actually seems to serve a purpose.

This can be a red flag SOMETIMES but not always: A lack of diversity in the paths represented. Sometimes a shop is just a reflection of the owner’s personal practice, or the focuses of the local community. Other times, there can be a reflected air of superiority of one path over others. This is entirely dependent on the individual store.

A big one I’d like to end on; they only host paid classes and services with no way for under-served members of the community to attend or participate. This is made even worse if the events are all over $20. Especially if this store is the only option in your area for these things! Instead of providing a service, they could be focused on cornering the market.

A quick Green Flag for some positivity, the presence of the owners or staff’s personal practice! I love being able to ask for insight from the source, I love being able to buy someone’s personal oil blends, I love learning more about things I may not have thought about because I’m not walking that path myself. Staff that want to chat and help can be so nice and really add to a welcoming environment.

Supporting small businesses is so important, and they can really be cornerstones of our community, but we need to be able to see the difference between someone passionate about providing resources and space to a community, and others that are looking to make a quick buck off of people starving for that. We as consumers need to hold our communities to some kind of standard, and I for one find that my standard is a certain level of authenticity. Not everyone selling metaphysical tools and supplies is trying to scam someone, but there are bad actors everywhere. Educate yourself, keep your eyes open, and don’t be afraid to ask yourself what someone’s motivations are.

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itsabouttimex2 · 7 months ago

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Today my Birthday, so how would the yanderes react to reader Brithday?

LMK Birthday Reactions

MK, Sun Wukong, Chang’e

(Happy birthday, dear! Have a wonderful day!)

So many handmade gifts- each one is lovingly decorated and delivered, wrapped with red and yellow ribbon. And MK is so eager about it, too. No matter what type of person you are, it’s pretty much impossible not to smile and thank him.

The delivery boy invites himself in the moment you open the front door, but not before throwing himself into your arms for a big tight hug. After ushering you to the couch, MK starts to unload his gifts into your hands.

A hand-drawn letter with glitter and sparkly bits of confetti. A giant sack of food he made (with Pigsy’s input and advice), and grocery store cupcakes frosted with your favorite color. And something along the lines of a plush or poster from a media franchise that you love.

And he’s so, so sweet about it that you don’t even think to ask how he found your address.

Our dear Sun Wukong is, put simply- loaded. There’s no end to the treasures and antiques he has to offload, and it’s not like any buyer is going to try and scam the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He’s racked more than a bit in terms of funds, and isn’t afraid to dote on a well-behaved captive friend/student/child.

(Or he’ll shamelessly and happily steal. That’s also a very real possibility, let’s be honest.)

Lego Sets? He’ll have them stacked to the ceiling. A new console? He’ll bury it in games to match. Books? He’ll have a crate of classics delivered to the front door. Jewelry? He’ll dig a few precious pieces from his treasury and pay/coerce a jeweler into fixing them up.

Lots of food and treats, and isn’t above throwing you a small party if you’re friends with MK and Mei- hell, the simian will even let you invite Red Son. He’ll (his clones, actually) set up a nice little room with a store-bought cake or two and catered food from Pigsy’s Noodles. He’ll bust out a few games (think Jackbox) and let you have a nice, happy day.

And honestly, that’s all he wants- for you to be happy… in close proximity to him, under his watchful eye, locked up tight in his house.

Really, is that so much to ask for?

Oh, so very many exotic and wonderful treats. All handmade and delectable, created from top-quality ingredients and with hours of love and centuries of experience.

Chang’e makes each one with all of her heart, pasted your adorable name in frosting a hundred times over, across every cupcake and cookie and three-tier cake. She’ll set the “imperfect” pastries aside to have their frosting smudged into swirls, donated to shelters or food banks. Her baby deserves only the very best that she has to offer.

She’s prone to tending towards cutesy gifts, like sparkly stellar accessories and glittery plushes. Perfumes, matching clothes, make-up… the moon goddess is so very generous and sweet with her presents. Also, given how tech-savvy and modern-trending she seems to be, Chang’e definitely lavishes you with quite a few gift cards for online shopping.

Really, such an absolute sweetheart. So sweet that you might even forget that you’re spending another birthday on the moon without any friends, without any family aside from the goddess herself.

And maybe you won’t even notice that that’s just the way she wants it.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere MK #Yandere Chang’e

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moonchild033 · 3 months ago

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Random astro community related thoughts going on my mind 😏😑

I would request u all to read it thoroughly but yea whatever😏

Idk how many ppl are going to get offended or have controversial views to this but since it's MY BLOG, I'm gonna write things that are constantly disturbing my mind.🙂

First of all, I'm feeling truly devastated by seeing the number of astro posts circulating around Liam Payne's d*ath. Why r u hellbent on dissecting someone's d*ath? Idk what tropical astrology teaches, so I can't say anything about that, but as far as ik, traditional vedic astrologers are trained NOT to predict someone's demise or dissect a de*d person's chart, so kindly refrain from using vedic astrology and its tools such as divisional charts to do this, I find it very disrespectful. Vedic astrology can just be a science or interesting content for u, but for other ppl it's a part of their heritage and it has its respect, so don't misuse it. Also I kind of think it's literally humane to not make content out of someone's demise, be a human first then u can be a celebrity.😒

Be responsible about what u say, u might not know how much impact your words have but there are ppl who are following and reading your posts. I feel like some knowledge should've stayed in the same place, protected and safe in the right hands rather than accessible to everyone, Kali yug is definitely not the era where ppl r sensible enough to understand how to wield knowledge bcoz it is literally a POWER. 😌

The way the world of Nadi astrology is destroyed by the same means, knowledge going in the wrong hands, now it has become a whole scam, spinning tales and extorting money. Nadi is where sages like Agasthiya wrote future horoscopes and its predictions along with their past lives. Our lives have been written in palm leaves years ago, the main sanctuary of the collection is in Tamilnadu, it was passed on from generation to generation in certain family lineages, then some of them sold it, made fake ones and it got sparsely distributed and now almost vanished (Ik in specific temple some of the originals are stored even today, I'll not mention the name, I'm tired of misuse of knowledge, if u r genuinely interested Google is free). Even our accurate d*ath incident is written in there but the real nadi families back then were trained not to reveal it, so they just say 'Stay healthy and careful in that time, be cautious while driving' that's it. I know of real life incidents predicted through that, my dad's friend and my bestfriend 's mother both d*ed on the same predicted year and month by the same warned incident, my dad's friend was asked to be cautious of vehicles in that time period and he d*ed due to an accident and my friend's mom was asked to take care of health issues on a specific time period and she d*ied due to cancer. It's ur choice to believe in an age old writing of ur destiny in a palm leaf but it was an accurate tool some 20-30yrs back but today when it went into the wrong hands, that is when the knowledge got spread rather than being protected and reached ppl with wrong intentions, it all went berserk, now they just bluff nonsense. Still there are authentic family lineages with real texts and skills but it's very hard to differentiate between a whole lot of fraudsters. 🙃

So yea, overall I'm pissed off about the fact that some things are better to have left the way it is rather than showcasing it to the whole world to have it misused, like vedic astrology too, if u r learning it, respect it's ethics too, don't disrespect it's norms for the sake of ur content.😌😬

Idc if u disagree with me, this is MY opinion and I'll stand by it, BYEEE 😤😌

(But I'm angry too 😒)

#astrology #blogs #astro community #astroblr #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic chart #astro girlies #desiblr #girlblogging #moonchild033

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daethvalley-sims · 1 month ago

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ARCANA LEGACY CHALLENGE

Hello!! I started putting this challenge together back in March when I played Persona 3 Reload and made that my entire personality for a while. I'm a master procrastinator so I didn't get much down at first other than a vague outline but I'm SOOOO glad I waited because the Lovestruck and Life & Death packs have added SO MUCH to this challenge. Really it was the release of Life & Death and the tarot theme of the pack that inspired me to come back to this and it ends the challenge so nicely. I'm obsessed.

This is a 14 generation legacy challenge with each gen representing one of the first 14 of the 22 major arcana cards, beginning with The Fool and ending your journey with Death.

Anyway... below's the rules. If you play this I'd really love to see so please tag me here or on bluesky (daethvalley.bsky.social) !!

Updates:

8/12/2024: The Fool can now get jobs to be able to complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration.

Generation 0: The Fool

Young and vulnerable, you have not yet experienced any of life’s challenges, and thus embrace all that lies ahead without fear or worry.

Your founder will begin as a Young Adult with §0 and nothing to their name besides the clothes they’re wearing and the companion at their side. Representing the start of your journey, the Fool generation will lay the foundations of hopefully a long standing and successful legacy.

Generation Rules:

Create a new Sim. The only limitations are that they must have the Kleptomaniac, Goofball and Cat/Dog Lover traits and the Chief of Mischief aspiration. Their gender, appearance, likes/dislikes and turn ons/offs are all up to you. If you choose to download a Sim from the gallery, they must be a blank slate with no skills, milestones, or achievements.

Your sim must start the game with or adopt a fluffy companion - Cat or Dog is up to you (a Dog is suggested) and the corresponding Cat/Dog Lover trait.

Move into an empty lot. The location is up to you (you’ll only spend one generation here) and once moved in, cheat your money down to §0.

There are no rules about how you make or spend money other than you must never reach higher than level 3 in a career.

Complete the Chief of Mischief aspiration.

Complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration.

Purchase the Brave trait from the Rewards Store (8,000 satisfaction points)

Have at least one child (this is a legacy after all!) and have the best relationship with them.

Marriage is optional but only after completing your aspirations.

Swipe an object every time you leave your home lot.

Master at least one instrument.

The Fool embraces anything and everything that life throws at them. Accept all self discovery moments.

Traits: Kleptomaniac, Goofball, Cat/Dog Lover

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief AND Renaissance Sim

Max skills: Mischief, one instrument.

Career: Various

Generation 1: The Magician

Raised by the Fool, you see the potential of the world laid ahead of you. You feel a spiritual calling to the Magic Realm and determination to do whatever it takes to master its sacred power.

Generation Rules:

Leave home as a teen and move to Glimmerbrook and become a Spellcaster via completing the Rite of Ascension ritual at the magic realm.

Drop out of high school to focus on your magical studies.

Complete the Spellcaster skill tree and become a magical Virtuoso.

Have at least one child with one of the Sages (don’t move in with them as they will lose Sage status).

Never marry.

Embrace the power of crystals and master Gemology to manipulate your abilities and moods.

Complete both your chosen Spellcaster aspiration and Crystal Crafter.

Traits: Childish, Creative, Self-Assured

Character values: Irresponsible

Aspiration: Spellcraft & Sorcery OR Purveyor of Potions, Crystal Crafter

Max skills: Gemology

Career: Freelance: sell your crystal creations!

Generation 2: The High Priestess

Your parent, the Magician, achieved the greatest heights of the Magic Realm. Inheriting the intuition and knowledge of a Sage you seek enlightenment: serenity, acceptance, and a peaceful life.

Generation Rules:

Leave Glimmerbrook and move somewhere peaceful.

Don’t contact your parents after you leave - they’re in another realm!

Start afresh: Complete the Inner Peace aspiration and gain a clear perspective.

Get married and have at least one child with any sim.

At least one child must be born a Spellcaster, that is your heir.

Coach and guide others to achieve enlightenment as you have by completing the Zen Guru aspiration.

Remain a Spellcaster but never use your abilities.

Never use any Mean or Mischief interactions.

Traits: Proper, Neat, Squeamish

Character values: Emotional Control

Aspiration: Inner Peace AND Zen Guru

Max skills: Wellness

Career: Any

Generation 3: The Empress

You are a 3rd generation Spellcaster, not that you’ve ever had a connection to the Magic Realm. Still, your strong magical bloodline connects you to the elements and the natural world. You bring life - a large, happy family and a flourishing garden.

Generation Rules:

Complete your childhood aspiration (you choose which!)

Never use your Spellcaster abilities.

Move to Henford-On-Bagley and embrace the simple way of living. Your home must have the Simple Living lot trait applied.

Grow your own food, and keep farm animals for milk, eggs, and wool.

Get married to any sim.

Complete the Freelance Botanist aspiration.

Progress through the Big Happy Family aspiration up to Loving Guardian.

Have at least 3 children.

Any child not born as a Spellcaster is eligible to be heir.

Traits: Family Oriented, Generous, Loves Outdoors

Character values: Compassionate

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist AND Big Happy Family (up to Loving Guardian level)

Optional university degree: Biology

Max skills: Gardening, Parenting

Career: PhD of Pollen (Gardener - Botanist branch)

Generation 4: The Emperor

The magical abilities that ran through your family lineage have been lost. You are left with a natural born ability to lead and easily gain the respect of those around you. With strong family values instilled upon you from an early age, you respect authority, and command the same in return. A figure of strength to many, it’s up to you to solve the mystery surrounding the small desert town you moved to after joining the military.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Playtime Captain childhood aspiration.

Complete the Leader of the Pack aspiration while in high school.

Early graduation is allowed if Leader of the Pack aspiration completed.

Do not attend university.

Move to Strangerville immediately after high school graduation and join the Military career.

Fall in love with a local and get married before fighting the final boss - you never know what could happen.

Solve the Strangerville Mystery and become a local hero!

Have at least 2 children.

Be a diligent parent - all children must gain the Top-Notch Infant/ Toddler traits, have a strict family dynamic, and they all must gain at least 2 positive character value traits. Any child with the Responsible trait is eligible to be heir.

Purchase the Mentor trait from the rewards store and mentor your heir in Charisma.

Traits: Hot Headed, Glutton, Insider

Character values: Mediator

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack AND Strangerville Mystery

Max skills: Fitness, Charisma

Career: Grand Marshal (Military - Officer branch)

Generation 5: The Hierophant

Your parent taught you absolutely everything you’d need to know, and as a result you’ve grown into an equally diligent sim. Drawn to knowledge over strength, you studied hard and under the mentorship of your parent, became a master orator. Beloved by all, it was inevitable you’d be voted in as the National Leader. However, romance wasn’t something that interested you, and your work responsibilities left you little time for the one child you did have.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Admired Icon aspiration while in high school.

Attend university and complete a Distinguished Degree in History.

Join the Debate Guild at UBrite and reach Level 3.

Max Research & Debate skill before graduating university.

Move to San Myshuno and join the Politician career.

Work from home and complete the active work tasks at least twice per week.

Never have woohoo or a romantic relationship.

Have one child only, either through adoption, science baby, or alien abduction.

Have a full staff - nanny, maid, chef, gardener (if applicable). They will raise your child.

Live in a Penthouse by the end of the generation.

Achieve the Wise trait if played until Elder.

Be acquaintances only with your child.

Traits: Ambitious, Outgoing, Unflirty

Character values: Responsible

Aspiration: Admired Icon AND Friend of the World

Max skills: Charisma, Research & Debate

Career: National Leader (Politician - Politician branch)

Generation 6: The Lovers

You lacked attention as a child, and as an adult crave affection more than anything. Where better to find it than the City of Love itself? Your rich, sheltered upbringing has left you naive and sadly you had to kiss a few frogs before you found your prince.

Generation Rules:

Perform averagely in school.

Do not attend university.

Move to Ciudad Enamorada as a Young Adult.

Join the Barista career.

Have a toxic relationship with a bad/ awful compatibility sim. Get engaged but NOT married.

Leave your toxic ex and explore your options by completing the Paragon Partner aspiration.

Quit your job as a Barista and join the Romance Consultant career.

Meet The One and complete the Soulmate aspiration.

Have at least one child.

Be a loving but ineffective parent - never use discipline.

Any child with the Irresponsible trait is eligible to be heir.

Traits: Lovebug, High Maintenance, Jealous

Character values: Uncontrolled Emotions

Aspiration: Paragon Partner AND Soulmate

Max skills: Romance

Career: Certified Dating Specialist (Romance Consultant - Matchmaker branch)

Generation 7: The Chariot

Your parents loved you, but you were still left to find your own way. You were a daredevil child and carried your bravery and willpower into adulthood, determined to achieve a feat no sim had managed before.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Mind and Body aspiration as a child.

Complete the Live Fast aspiration as a teen.

Move to Mt Komorebi and take up Rock Climbing AND either Snowboarding or Skiing.

Complete the Extreme Sports Enthusiast aspiration.

Lead a mountain excursion (solo or with another sim) and reach the peak of Mt Komorebi.

Staying in Mt Komorebi after completing the excursion is optional!

Only join a career after completing the Mt Komorebi excursion. Part time jobs are ok before that.

Marriage is optional.

Have at least one child - your heir must grow up with the Responsible and Mediator traits.

Traits: Self Assured, Adventurous, Practice Makes Perfect

Character values: Irresponsible

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Max skills: Fitness, Rock Climbing

Career: Any (after generational goals achieved)

Generation 8: Justice

Your parent was reckless, but you admired their tenacity and strength of mind. You grew up brilliant in the more conventional way, committed to earning the highest grades and learning everything you could. More importantly, your strong sense of right and wrong led you down the path of seeking justice.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Whiz Kid childhood aspiration.

Complete the Goal Oriented teen aspiration.

Join the Chess Team after school activity and become Captain.

Maintain the highest grades and study hard to ace your exams so you graduate as Valedictorian - this means NO early graduation.

Learn skills through reading books and studying where possible.

Attend university and complete a Distinguished Degree in History.

Complete the Academic aspiration while at university.

Tutor other students twice per week.

Write and publish research papers.

Join the Law career - Judge branch after graduation.

Get married to your first relationship.

Have two children with a negative relationship - one Genius (they will be heir) and one with the Outgoing trait.

Have high expectations for your children - discipline them often and have a strict family dynamic, but always help them with homework, school projects etc.

Adopt a dog.

Traits: Bookworm, Overachiever, Loyal

Character values: Responsible and Mediator

Aspiration: Academic

Max skills: Logic, Research & Debate

Career: Chief of Justice (Law - Judge Branch)

Generation 9: The Hermit

Your parents had high expectations for you and your sibling, who couldn’t be more different from you. You were a born Genius while they excelled socially, and you often felt as if you were in competition with eachother. As a teen you retreated further inside yourself and preferred the company of your family dog to spending time with other sims. You spent your time learning everything you could about computers and gaming, and eventually made a living from your bedroom.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Whiz Kid aspiration as a Child.

Have a negative relationship with your sibling.

Attend high school but only to study.

Only befriend other Loner sims.

Spend most of your time in your bedroom - you’ll need a computer in there!

Reach level 5 of the Tech Guru career before becoming a Freelance Programmer.

Complete the Computer Whiz aspiration.

Earn money through video gaming tournaments, hacking, and making apps & video games.

Your relationship must be online only - never meet them in person (if you choose to have one).

Never move out of your parents house.

Have at least one child. Be creative with how you get one, it’s still a legacy after all!

Your parents will raise your child.

Traits: Genius, Loner, Geek

Character values: Argumentative

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Max skills: Video Gaming, Programming

Career: Project Manager (Tech Guru)

Generation 10: Wheel of Fortune

You were raised by loving grandparents, but you felt a bit abandoned by your parent that hardly saw you. You wanted to rebel against the life your grandparents laid out for you and in the spirit of the founder of your family, the Fool, you embraced everything that came your way. With a belief in destiny and sheer good luck, you moved forward without a plan and trusted that everything would work out in your favour.

Generation Rules:

Anything could happen!

Have your grandparents help you get the Top Notch Infant and Top Notch Toddler traits.

As a Child, choose and complete the aspiration that best fits your randomised trait.

As a Teen, we’ll use the https://simsrandom.com/ random legacy generator to set the rules for this generation.

Stick to what the randomiser gives you unless you don’t have the packs, in which case you can re-roll.

Traits must be randomised when your sim ages up, and can’t be changed.

Age up to Young Adult with a character value that suits your path.

Select an aspiration that suits your randomised career/ hobbies.

Reach the top of your Primary Career.

Complete the Generational Goal. If it’s something you’ve already done in this legacy (i.e. the Strangerville Mystery) you can re-roll.

Miscellaneous Fun must be followed.

Max 1-2 skills that align with your sim’s goals.

Traits: Random!

Character values: Random!!

Aspiration: Random!!!

Max skills: Random!!!!

Generation 11: Strength

The legend of your great-great-great grandparent being the first sim to reach the peak of Mt Komorebi inspires you. You come from a line of masters in their field and you aspire to live up to the greatness of your ancestors in the only way you know how - you are determined to push your body to its limits and perfect your physique, and nothing else is important to you.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Rambunctious Scamp aspiration as a Child.

Join the Football Team as a Teen and become captain.

University is optional.

Befriend other Bros and lead a club practising physical activity.

Drink protein shakes every day!

Complete the Bodybuilder aspiration.

Join the Athletic career and reach level 10 in the Bodybuilder branch.

You can have relationships but never marry.

Have a one night stand resulting in a child and raise them as a single parent.

Have a permissive relationship dynamic with your child.

Traits: Active, Bro, Self-Absorbed

Character values: Insensitive

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Max skills: Fitness

Career: Mr./ Ms. Solar System (Athletic - Bodybuilder branch)

Generation 12: The Hanged Man

The idea that your family is born from magic feels like a distant dream. Your parent was so self-absorbed that they never saw the truth. Spellcasters don’t exist, not for generations anyway. Any magical connection to the earth has been long lost. Instead of striving for greatness, can’t you just be normal? A normal life, a normal job. Of course you have aspirations - they’re just not realistic right now.

Generation Rules:

Maintain a B grade through Grade school and High school.

Don’t complete your Child or Teen aspirations.

University is optional but you can’t do a Distinguished Degree.

Keep a Private Journal as a Teen.

Have the Beach Life aspiration but never start it.

Never travel outside of the world you live in.

Join the Salaryperson career and become Head of Department (Supervisor branch).

Gain the Workaholic lifestyle.

Write many books on your family history but never publish any. Put them in a keepsake box.

Marry a sim with Bad or Awful compatibility.

Have at least one child.

Fight Father Winter and ask him for proof of his powers.

Traits: Gloomy, Noncommittal, Skeptical

Character values: Responsible

Aspiration: Beach Life (never complete this)

Max skills: Writing, Logic

Career: Head of Department (Salaryperson - Supervisor branch)

Generation 13: Death

There has to be more out there than your parent had you believe. You’d read their unpublished novels on your family’s legend and knew it was up to you to seek the answers and return to the magic your ancestors were born from. You left everything behind and travelled alone to the town under a permanent autumn. It was here you found your answers, and your end.

Generation Rules:

Complete the Artistic Prodigy aspiration as a Child.

Don’t go to university- you’ve got better things to do.

Move to Ravenwood as a Young Adult.

Get involved in the community and complete all the favours for the Order of Lenore.

Complete the Ravenwood tarot deck.

Write a bucket list and work towards it but don’t complete it.

Complete the Ghost Historian aspiration and befriend many ghosts.

Never marry or have children.

Be the only sim in your household when you die (you can have pets).

Meet an untimely end - die before you become an Elder.

Traits: Macabre, Music Lover, Chased by Death

Character values: Good Manners

Aspiration: Ghost Historian

Max skills: Writing, Thanatology

Career: Publish your history books!

Mini Generation: Temperance

That can’t be… it? You were so young, and you were so busy searching for your answers you never did everything you wanted to do. Fourteen generations and it ends here. However, death had taken a special interest in you, and offers you the chance to address your unfinished business before you move on.

Generation Rules:

Attend your own funeral.

Achieve your unfinished business and complete your Soul’s Journey to earn the Burning Soul trait.

Head to Mourningvale on the day of the Thinned Festiveil and be reborn in the Baleful Bog.

With the knowledge of 14 generations behind you, you are reborn as The Fool, and the cycle is completed.

#the sims #the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 simblr #the sims challenge #the sims legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #legacy challenge #life and death #ts4 life and death #sims 4 #simmer #simblr #arcana legacy challenge #arcana legacy

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months ago

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Something Else: Bode Leone x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @jeysbae @cloveroctobers @dizzybee03 @a-porcelain-gir1 @missy203 @floydsglasses @@alixw22x @shelbygeek @muligatorrr @jaybae @yousigned-upforthis @kmc1989 @brenobikenobi @mini-bee-bee @timmybradford @zippeylay @rhilee91 @switchbladeclub @itzkiarabxtches @girlinwounderland @choppedgalaxynerd @drunkangels @freecreationpost @stefani-topaz @chlo-lo14

One of Bode’s favourite things about being out on parole is the upgrade in shower facilities.

In prison you get ten minutes in the company with at least one other person, you try not to look but it’s incidental. The water was always freezing cold or scalding, there’s no in between. It was different at fire camp, you get fifteen minutes to yourself but the water pressure was shitty and the temperature tepid at best.

At home with you he gets as much hot water as he wants for as long as he wants, and baths…

They are a game changer after a hard day working construction or volunteering with Cal Fire.

Another thing he enjoys is the aromatherapy aspect. He’s used to relying on the shit they have in commissary and then what Cap was able to source from the General Store. It was always nameless, scentless, rough on his skin.

When he comes across the Wild & Sage stall at the Farmer’s Market he’s overwhelmed, he’s always liked the idea of natural products he’s just never been able to try them due to his legal predicament.

“I don’t know what to choose.” He says softly to you, his fingertips trailing over the silver reuseable containers. “There’s so many…”

“That’s what samples are for.” You say quietly, taking his hand in yours. You dab your fingers into the moisturising cream before spreading it across the back of his hand. He raises it to his nose inhaling it and that scent, the woodsy overtone, it makes everything feel a little lighter. His skin feels softer, less tight, less dry.

He spends over thirty minutes in front of that stall, talking with the vendor, trying all the samples. He works out what he likes, what he doesn’t like. He ends up spending a small fortune on toiletries, something he’s never done in his life.

“It’s nice to see you investing in yourself.” You tell him, when you come back from the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers tucked into the crook of your arm.

He smiles when the bathroom door clicks open, he sees your shape beyond the frosted glass, hears the sound of your clothes falling onto the tiles. This is the other thing he likes, the company.

“Hi.” He murmurs as you step underneath the stream of water with him.

“Hi.” You say, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you press against him.

“God you feel good.” He whispers against your lips, your fingers wrap around his cock and he inhales sharply because the sensation of your hand working him over, it’s bliss.

“But this is better right?” You tease, your thumb tracing over the tip of his cock.

He moans into your mouth because you, you have magic hands. He’ll never get tired of the way you touch him, the light brush of your fingertips, the steady intense pressure of your palm. The ecstasy, it builds in the base of his spine, searing through his synapses as you stroke him a little faster, a little harder. His breathing becomes ragged, his kisses messy, he’s right there at the edge of the precipice when your pussy envelops him.

He can’t think, he can’t breathe, all he can do revel in the sensation of that tight wet heat as it grips him.

“Baby.” He drawls as you clench around the tip of his dick. “Fuck baby, fuck!”

He comes so fucking hard that he sees stars, his release spilling into you. When he pulls out, it coats the head of his cock. You grasp his shaft, smearing his spent all over your pussy and he almost loses it all over again. You kill him with this shit, he swears to God, you do.

“You are something else you know that?” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest coming to rest upon yours. “Truly you are.”

Love Bode? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#bode leone #bode leone x reader #bode leone x you #bode donovan #bode donovan x reader #bode donovan x you #fire country #max thieriot

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billielolly · 5 months ago

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Sims 3 Build - Sage Studio Townhouses

A set of brownstone-inspired townhouses containing a studio apartment perfect for a creative and craft-loving sim looking to start their new life.

A studio apartment with 1 bathroom on a 30x20 lot.

Watch the speed build: https://youtu.be/1gr_oRdaGZQ

Download here:

Patreon (free): https://www.patreon.com/posts/108162675/

Exchange: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9598470

Expansion packs:

World Adventures

Ambitions

Generations

Late Night

University Life

Stuff packs:

None

Store content:

Bohemian Garden Set - Happily Hippy Patchwork Pouf

Custom content:

missyzim - Neoclassic Build Set (Window Arched Short, Arched Door, Pediment Door 1x1)

ArtVitalex - Noresund Bed

ArtVitalex - Gunnern End Table

Martassimsbook - cmdesigns Anemone Bathroom Set Candle

deeiutza - Teen Bedroom Plant

Martassimsbook - Cowbuild Follower Gift Set 1 Chicken Aloe Vera Pot

Pralinesims - Contemporary Carpet 78

basimcly - Counter Height Eyelet Curtains (1 + 2 Tile)

ATS3 - Crafting Room Sewing (Dressform & Blouse, Sewing Machine)

ATS3 - Fashion Designer's Workshop (Cissors, Tapeline & Needles, Reels, Cloth Roll, Patterns, Hanging Clothes)

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P1 Wooden Rack

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P2 (Dress Belt, Summer Dress, Tunic, Long Sleeve Dress, Shorts, Graphic Tee)

Martassimsbook - Ravasheen Hang Around Closet Set P3 Belt

ArtVitalex - Ritchie Mirror

ArtVitalex - Glen Mirror

Martassimsbook - Sims 4 Parenthood Xtreme Shower Tub

ArtVitalex - Upland Toothbrush and Paste

ArtVitalex - Upland Toilet Brush

ATS3 - Canister

Martassimsbook - Pinkboxdesign Kitchen Clutter Set Utensils

Martassimsbook - Syboulette Millennial Kitchen Dish Soap

pyszny16 - Donavan Kitchen Counter

Cakenoodles - 13pumpkin Rustic Wood Floor

Julietsimscc - Giveaway Gift Paintings (Without Borders)

ArtVitalex - Mayorka Ceiling Spot Lamp

Twinsimming - Fashion Forward Collection Trending Style Board

#ts3 #ts3cc #s3cc #the sims 3 #simblr #ts3 build #sims 3 build #sims 3 house #ts3 house #sims 3

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captain-bubble-wrap · 23 days ago

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Intemporelle; timeless

Paring: Quinn Hughes | OC Female (Older)

Chapter: 1 of ? | A Chance Meeting

WC: 5,825

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol use, swearing, mentioned depressive thoughts, guilt/shame, embarrassment

Summary: Off-season wedding within the Canucks' organization. Quinn is drunk when he's introduced to a friend of the bride and groom. Things take a turn when he gets sick and requires being tucked into bed.

Big thank you to @insidious-apple for letting me gush about my silly ideas and spamming you with updates.

White flowers fell in cascaded archways over top of every doorway in the chateau's ballroom. No expense had been spared on the wedding, now in full swing, that evening. Guests had been arriving the last three days to the Fairmont Chateau to enjoy the luxuries afforded by their hosts. No matter where you looked, luxe decorations reminded you of the scope of the affair.

By now, the reception had gone late into the beginning hours of the morning. Parents, grand-parents, aunts, and uncles had all said their goodbyes hours before, leaving the younger generations to continue the festivities. Shoes had been abandoned, empty glasses, and plates of cake littered several tables, their respective owners all mingling on the dance floor or in their rooms entirely.

Madeline Ramsey, best friend of the bride, had gotten to the resort just that morning. Work as a dress consultant in one of Vancouver's high-end bridal stores had kept her away from joining the rest of the bridal party's celebrations and had made her feel like she was playing catch-up ever since the ceremony. She was tall, curvy; a deep brunette with striking sage green eyes. She had just turned thirty-four two months prior in June; becoming now the last of all of her girlfriends to tie the knot. Years before, she was so consumed by the fact that she wasn't even in a relationship let alone engaged, but now, it was just another day on her own.

"Maddie! About time you showed! You were missed!" The groom hollered over the booming DJ equipment. He was obviously feeling no pain, throwing his arm over his friend that was standing next to him and whose conversation had been interrupted when she wandered near. The friend, looked in way worse shape than the groom but equally enjoying his time at the reception, locked eyes on Maddie and never took his eyes off her.

"I'm sorry! You didn't have to schedule your wedding in peak season either! I work in the industry, you know!"

"I forgot about that. But hey! You're here now!"

They stood there for a few minutes, just talking, giving congratulations and catching up. Maddie still being admired from the unintroduced bystander, took a sip of her wine, smiling with her eyes over the rim of her glass.

"Ah, goddamn, sorry! Maddie, Quinn; Quinn, Maddie."

"Hello," she says, making Quinn smile, his eyes finally falling away from her for the first time.

"Quinny's a little shy," the groom jokes. Quinn's face goes beet red in the dimly lit hall, at the sound of being called by one of his nicknames. He receives a playful shove to his shoulder from his teammate before he turns to leave. "I hate to leave you too, but I need to check on my bride. She's been left unsupervised with an open bar...for probably too long. Don't be strangers!"

Maddie said her goodbyes and turned her attention back to Quinn. He was looking down at his feet, kicking one with the other. His awkwardness made her smile. "So, I take it you play with Connor?"

"Yeah, he's a great guy," Quinn replied, trying to keep his drunk gaze on her face. "You're really...pretty."

His compliment was the last thing she had expected to hear so she just stared at him like a deer in the headlights for a second. Knowing she heard him correctly, she still asked him to repeat himself like the music was too loud.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Quinn shook his head, trying to make it come off like he hadn’t said anything, realizing in his drunkenness he had some regret over saying what he had. After a few moments, he began to crack a smile.

“Yeah, huh, you said I was pretty.” Maddie teased, taking another drink from her glass.

“Nuh-uh,” Quinn grinned.

Maddie, realizing he was being full of shit, gave her best fake, dramatic gasp. “How rude!” Quinn just continued to smile that same cheesy grin. Leaving it alone, Maddie looked forward to the dance floor, trying to see if there was anyone she needed to say hello to before while they could still remember seeing her. However, from where she stood it was hard to say.

“Would you want....would you like to dance?” Quinn blurts out, when the song changes to a slow one making Maddie look back over at the young captain.

“You want to dance? With me?”

Quinn nodded quickly in succession, like a little boy asked if wanted candy.

“Since you called me pretty…I guess,” she teased. “Yes, I’ll dance with you.” Putting her glass and clutch down on a nearby table she takes Quinn’s wobbly, outstretched arm and tries her best to let him lead her to the outer fringes of the dance floor.

At first, Quinn seemed hesitant to put his hands on her for the dance. Maddie helped him along by putting her arms around his neck which brought the two of them together quickly. Quinn’s face burned hot smelling her perfume and feeling her so close to him.

"Are you okay?" She said, leaning in to tease him.

"Mhm." He blushed, again.

The two of them just swayed back and forth to the slow beat of the song, in their own little world and no one paid them a bit of mind. Maddie stood an couple inches taller than Quinn due to her heels but he didn't seem to mind. From time-to-time, she'd look over at Quinn who would just start to giggle. However, towards the end of the song, something changed in his face.

"Quinn?" Maddie's brows pulled inward. Looking at him a little longer, she knew that look. His breathing had deepened, his brows were knitted together, and he just looked worried. He was going to be sick if she wasn't proactive in getting him out of there, for the sake of his pride if nothing else. "C'mon, let's get you outside."

This time, he doesn't even nod. He fully lets her guide him to the connecting hallway where she hoped she might find a bathroom. Quinn's feet began to drag, like he was fighting the urge to expel his guts all over the marble hallway.

"You're okay," she reassures, her hand in his. "Hold on just a little longer."

He didn't answer her; didn't even hum an answer, just kept his eyes down and clung to her grasp. Eventually, she'd find him a safe place and he wasted no time pushing through the door while Maddie waited outside. While she stood there, she remembered she had left her purse behind. If she didn't get it now, the possibility of someone else running off with it, or forgetting it entirely, was growing with each second she stood there.

Down the hall she sprinted - sprinted as fast as she could in her heels - to gather her things and return to Quinn hopefully before he was better. Before she reached the door she slowed to a dignified walk and acted like nothing was wrong. No one needed to know there were things going on; not her friends or his.

"Maddie!"

"Maddie come here! Where have you been?" A couple bridesmaids spotted her and at the top of their voices they yelled her name. "Come dance with us!"

Maddie just smiled and waved a "no thank you" in their direction. Their audible, disappointed whines melted into the music as she passed by them. She'd blow the group a kiss before finally parting ways, thankful that she had been able to skirt that situation without being too hindered, or asked why she was leaving; worse yet if they had seen her leave with Quinn.

Back down the hall her heels clicked almost at a panicked pace. She'd turn that final corner to see Quinn sitting on the ground, outside the bathroom door, his head resting on his knees as he hugged them. When his eyes lifted to see her, they were red and wet. He looked so tired, drained, and just like he still felt like shit.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I just left to get my bag."

Quinn shook his head, his eyes staying locked on her face, "It's okay."

"C'mon, how about we get you upstairs?" Maddie reached down, both of her arms extended for him to take her hands and get up off the floor. His skin was cool and clammy when he finally decided to move and reach out for her. "Nice and slow."

He had lost his suit jacket by this point, it laid beside him in a crumpled heap but he was so wobbly getting back up that Maddie decided to get it for him instead. Quinn stood against the wall, his breathing slowed now and he was leaning.

"Do you have your room key, Quinn?" She asked respectfully feeling around in the pockets of the jacket in case it was in there.

"Mhm, somewhere. Oh, here, I think." From the pocket of his pants, Quinn produced the black room key and did his best to hand it to her.

"Thank you. Do you want to wear your jacket?" Maddie asked, thought it laid draped over her left arm. He shook his head and stayed leaning against the wall. "Do you need a minute?"

"No."

He sounded awful; like there was nothing left in him to interact with. Maddie put her hand against his back and his eyes opened, looking at her with exhaustion. She wanted to help him, but there was only so much comfort she could offer him from their current position. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Getting Quinn towards the elevator had been easier than getting him to the bathroom, but it was still no speed walk. He was still wobbly underfoot and couldn't walk in a straight line without Maddie as a bumper. He mumbled inaudible apologies, laying his head on her shoulder as the elevator doors closed and pulled them upwards towards the top floor suites.

"I...sorry." Quinn spoke through a sigh. "I am...I'm really sorry."

Maddie smiled, her cheek laying against his head ever so slightly to give him that brief moment of unashamed comfort. "We've all been there, Quinn, it's fine! You'll feel better in the morning."

"I don't...think....I doubt it," he replied, causing Maddie to stifle a laugh. His deep, full-bodied sighs were the only sound beyond the dings from the floors the elevator was passing. The chateau's top floor opened up to the two of them and she let Quinn step out at his own pace. Naturally, his room would be at the other end of the hall but she never once rushed him. It didn't matter if it took five minutes or fifteen, she'd let him stop whenever he needed to collect himself.

"Do you...have...do you have my key?" He asked, feeling around in his pocket. His voice was getting deeper, more monotone. Was he getting more relaxed or just on the verge of falling asleep?

"Yes, Quinn, I have your key."

"Oh, okay."

The lock clicked and with the weighted door pushed open, Maddie would insist Quinn go in first. He put one hand on the door, then the other on the wall and felt his way inside while Maddie stayed close behind; her fingertips hovering just behind the center of his back. He'd find his way safely to the edge of the bed and flopped down with another heavy sigh, laying on his back.

"I'm sorry," Quinn continued to apologize, his hands covering his eyes. "I'm...I'm really sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she added, hanging up his jacket. "Do want some help getting into bed?"

"Yes, please. Wait, no, yeah...I don't know."

Maddie smiled though Quinn never saw it. She stood there just looking at him have an existential crisis in real time. "Come on, let me help you or else you're just going to lay there all night in your suit."

"I'm fine."

"Quinn." Maddie said, her brows raised.

"Okay." He was just being a big kid at this point but she found it cute. She'd get his shoes untied and him pulled back up to a seated position. His little legs didn't reach the floor and she'd find Quinn kicking his sock feet when she turned back around.

Quinn's golden eyes just looked at her while she slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. "Have I told you...that I think....that you're really pretty?"

Maddie tried not to look at him, not out of embarrassment, but because she, too, wanted to get back to her room and if she looked at him every time he said something adorable, she'd be there all night. However, when he brought a hand up to stop her from undoing another button, she had no choice.

"Have I? Because you...because you are." The natural sincerity in his words touched her, drunk or not. The look in his eyes said nothing but the truth.

"You have, a couple times, yes," she smiled, his hand still holding on to both of hers. "That's very sweet of you."

Finally, the childlike joy flashed in his eyes again and he mirrored her smile, "Okay...okay good. Someone should...you should be told that."

"Alright, Prince Charming, can I finish what I'm doing?" Maddie winked.

"You're trying to get me...you're taking my clothes off! You're...you want me naked, huh?"

This time she couldn't help but snort, she laughs so hard. Quinn just looks at her wide eyed and serious; almost shocked thinking he got her intentions correct.

"I knew it! Here, I'll...I'll help you!"

"Quinn it's fine! I--," but before she could finish her sentence, he started fussing with his belt but clumsy fingers couldn't conquer the buckle.

"I can't...I'm stuck...in my pants. Wow..."

Shaking her head she'd finally finish with the last remaining buttons of his shirt while he hung his head in what appeared to be the most self-defeating shame. She was, however, able to get him to his feet just long enough to get him out of his pants, leaving him wobbly there in a t-shirt and his underwear.

"Okay, bedtime," Maddie said, giving his back a little tap.

"Okay," he yawned, shuffling a few feet towards the turned back covers. Once he was under the blankets she put his phone on the charger but not before putting her number in his contacts, just in case.

"If you need anything, you can call me, alright? Do you remember my name?"

"Maddie?"

"Mhm, so if you need anything, just call, okay?"

"Thank you," Quinn said, giving her one of his bashful grins from earlier in the evening.

Maddie, standing next to him held her hair back before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his forehead. Quinn smiled wider, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets after she turned off the light. "Good night, Prince Charming."

"Good night, Maddie. It was...I'm glad that...it was really nice to meet you."

"It was lovely to meet you, too, Quinn. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Thank you, you too."

In the darkness of the room Maddie smiled, before turning away from her not-so secret admirer. Once the door closed behind her, she hoped he'd be alright through the night. She felt that after some good sleep he'd bounce back to his old self which was a thought that she held for herself as well. And with said thought, Maddie returned to her own room, two floors down from Quinn's, instead of returning to the reception.

Maddie's room was much smaller than Quinn's suite, but seeing as she could only stay the one night, it was for the best, plus, she didn't have NHL money to afford the twenty-five-hundred-dollars a night charge. She undid the ankle straps of her stilettos, removed her jewelry, and slipped out of her dress. Having those heels off was such a relief but walking without them was terribly painful.

The cold tile brought some relief, as she stood before the vanity removing her makeup. Hot steam rolled from the spa-like tub filling with water and fragrant scents behind her. By this point, it was well after 2am, and by her face in the mirror, she felt it. This bath would be well worth the wait.

Forty minutes later, with her hair in a messy top-bun, Maddie stood there in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts. She was exhausted as she applied her skincare, yearning for the comforting embrace of her bed that was just around the corner. That was before her phone began to ring in the next room. There was only one person she could think of that would be calling her: Quinn.

"Quinn?"

From the other end of the phone, a slight reverberation echoed with each word he struggled to speak.

"I need you. Please."

"Okay, okay, I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied, worried.

His line went dead and the phone call ended. Maddie didn't even bother putting on her leggings; just slipped on her white sneakers, grabbed her phone and sprinted down her own hallway to get to Quinn as fast as she could. The elevator took forever to open to her floor but at least it had been empty. Her acrylic nails tapped against the buttons, queuing Quinn's floor as she impatiently waited for the final stop.

"610, 611, 612," Maddie whispered to herself, hoping she had remember the correct room number. Knocking lightly, she hoped he would hear her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, opening the door to her slowly. He was covered in sweat, his white shirt damp and his hair all in front of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" No sooner had she reached for his shoulder, Quinn was turning away to stumble back to the bathroom.

Dry heaves. The devil.

He had nothing left to lose, but his body was trying to convince him that if he didn't clear his system, he'd continue to be miserable. Maddie followed behind him, seeing him draped over the toilet, his shoulders rolled forward as his body tensed against each retching episode.

"Oh, Quinn," she said under her breath. She knew his pain; dry heaves were almost worse than actually having to vomit: less painful. Maddie ran a washcloth beneath the cold tap and wrung it out before placing in on the back of his neck. His body shuddered against the sharp sensation which prompted her to run her hand up and down his spine for comfort and support. "You're okay."

He started to sniffle when he pulled away, feeling awful both physically and about having her see him like this. Maddie would hand him a towel off the warmer and he buried his face in it immediately. Her sympathy for him was growing. He just looked like a little boy getting sick for the first time.

"Want to try laying back down?"

He nodded.

"Okay, come on, sweetheart," Maddie cooed, getting him to his feet. His fingers clung to her body without hesitation, unlike before. Now, he came off like he needed her; no longer bashful about being so close to her. "You sit right here, okay?"

"I'll try," Quinn said, sitting back down on the edge of his bed a second time. She returned to his side with a bottle of water he had left out from earlier in the day. It wasn't full but it would serve its purpose.

"I need you to drink this, okay? Just little sips, alright?"

Quinn took the bottle and brought it to his lips several times; each time he pulled it away, he gasped for air slightly. He was still shaking; his shirt slightly damp from sweat. Maddie was standing directly in front of him, close enough for him to lean into her. When the bottle was nearly empty, Quinn reached out for her and pulled her into him; his head nestled directly between her breasts. She knew he didn't mean to be so forward, so she didn't push him away.

"You'll be okay, Quinn, I promise," Maddie said softly, both hands lost in his hair.

Eventually, he'd look up at her, the faint light from the harsh overhead bathroom fixture giving the bedroom enough illumination to see his expression. He looked so worried, so scared by everything going on with him in that moment. Maddie brushed the hair from his forehead; his eyelids fluttering closed each time she brushed them away.

"Wanna lay back down?"

Quinn's brows pulled together, like he was unsure if he should or not. Maddie continued to play with his hair, her pointed nails raking against his scalp comfortably,

"I don't want to get sick again." Quinn's voice was meek and solidified the notion that he was scared.

"I don't think you will. I think your body knows now that everything is gone now. Let's try getting you back in bed, okay?"

He nods again, his arms falling away from her waist as she takes a step back to give him room to move, taking the bottle from him. Quinn slips back beneath the covers as Maddie covers him up to his chin. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"You're not leaving, are you?" He asked, seeing her turn away from him again. Maddie turn back, her eyes locking onto his face immediately.

"Aw, Quinn you don't have to pout." The sight broke her heart, but she wondered if staying was really the best decision. However, looking at him beneath the covers, his dark eyes conveying immeasurable amounts of sadness, and that bottom lip. How dare he look so cute yet so heartbreakingly miserable.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbled.

"You're okay now, I promise."

"Please, stay?" Quinn pleaded again, this time with more emotion in his voice.

Maddie's eyes pulled away from his face. The bed was an obvious King; too much for one person let alone two. Quinn hadn't come off like a guy who couldn't keep his hands to himself so what harm would it be to stay?

"Okay, if you want me to say, I'll stay." She tried giving him a reassuring smile, but it didn't change his sorrowful expression.

Climbing into the bed from the other side, Maddie got close enough to Quinn that if he needed her she was within arms reach. She didn't want to crowd him, they didn't know each other that way. Surely he'd understand, right? She'd let her eyes fall closed but they didn't remain closed for long. The feeling of Quinn's hand touching her bare leg made her flinch.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He mumbled. "I just...I didn't mean it, I just..."

Maddie didn't say anything, instead, she found his arm and followed it downward until her hand found his. Quinn gave hers a little squeeze, his heart falling back into its normal rhythm after his scare. It was all he had wanted in the end. They'd fall asleep hand-in-hand; Quinn's head facing Maddie's on their respective pillows.

Hours later, way into morning, Maddie awoke to find Quinn snuggled up beside her. His stray curls had tickled her nose, pulling her from a comfortable slumber. He remained asleep as she did her best to carefully leave his side, ensuring he stayed asleep. Afterall, it was Quinn who needed to recover from the wild night of drinking, not her.

Quiet as she could, Maddie laced up her shoes, grabbed her phone and redid her hair before slipping out of the room. She tugged at the hem of the shirt she wore as she walked, and even though it fell just below her backside, she wasn't at a frat house; this was a luxury resort... She felt dirty, like she was walking a modified walk-of-shame. Had Quinn been awake she might have asked to borrow a pair of his sweatpants or something but that just didn't happen. Maybe she could play it off like she had been in the gym or something, but though she wasn't sweating or out of breath, it might just look like a big lie.

Thankfully for Maddie, there was no one around. Everyone still seemed to be sleeping off their hangovers which kept the halls and elevators empty. Once back inside her room, everything was like she had left it in her frantic leaving some hours prior. The lights were still on, her bed was still made, even the containers of skincare remained open and strewn about the counter like she was in the process of applying it. Looking at the mess, she couldn't believe she had just dropped everything for a guy she had just met. Granted, the way Quinn had sounded and what he had said, it had conveyed urgency. She'd spend the next hour packing and preparing to head back to Vancouver.

It was the headache that had woken Quinn up.

The curtains were still drawn, his phone was silent, and he was alone. He didn't dream about everything that had happened the night before, had he? He had met Maddie, and gotten sick, and had begged her to stay, right? They went to bed together, too? Where was she now, he wondered. Clawing his way up to rest his body weight on his forearms, he looked around the room, but there was no sign of her; no sound but the gentle whistle of the air conditioner.

Quinn sighed, pinching his eyes shut before the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand grabbed his attention.

Connor: Hey bud (10:38am)

Connor: You alive? (10:38am)

Connor: Just checking in

Didnt see you again after leaving you with maddie (10:39am)

Quinn: Yeah, I'm alive. (10:40am)

Connor: Thats good

She treat you alright? ;) (10:42am)

Quinn: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I made an ass of myself, though.

She's the only reason I made it back to my room this morning. (10:45am)

Connor: ooooh ;) (10:45am)

Quinn: It was nothing like that. (10:47am)

Connor: Well damn, lol

You get sick? (10:48am)

Quinn: Yes. (10:49am)

Connor: On her? (10:54am)

Quinn: No, but I have a feeling I said some things I shouldn't have. (10:56am)

Connor: Oh im sure shes okay (10:58am)

Quinn: Hopefully.

I need to get up and shower. What are you guys doing today? (11:01am)

Connor: Sounds good

Come meet us downstairs for brunch (11:09am)

Quinn: I'll see you in a few. (11:11am)

Quinn let his phone from his hand into the duvet as he laid on his back once his conversation with Connor had concluded. He had no strength to get out of bed and get in the shower, though he knew the hot water would likely bring him some comfort. Several minutes passed before he finally threw the covers aside and left the warm embrace of the linens.

Before he made it to the bathroom, in the small closet area, Quinn noticed his suit hung up and his dress shoes on the rack below it. He hadn't expected to see everything so nice, so tenderly cared for. Maddie really had taken care of him from the moment she had met him. Normally, he would have smiled to himself at such a kindness, but instead Quinn found himself with an opposite emotion. He should have been able to do everything she had done for him on his own. Instead, he was ashamed of everything and dreaded hearing of anything he didn't remember.

Hanging his head, Quinn entered the bathroom and hoped the hot steam would erase his lingering shame.

"Maddie! You're not leaving us, are you?" Sarah, the bride of the whole affair said, seeing her best friend walking past their private, outdoor dining area. The chateau had no shortage of stunning views, outdoor patios, and grand interior decorating. Maddie was sad to be leaving after essentially just arriving, and considering she hadn't even turned back the blankets of her bed, it was shame to just pack up and leave, but she had other obligations.

Maddie stopped and gave a sorrowful expression to her childhood friend. "I've gotta get back to the city, babe!"

"Not even for brunch and mimosas? You literally just got here!" Sarah got up from her table and made her way to where Maddie had stopped. They met in a hug and Sarah hoped she could still convince her friend to stay just a little longer.

"Yeah, I know, and I want to stay, but I just have so much to do. It was so hard for me to even get yesterday off! I have over a dozen appointments a day right now. I'm working twelves just to make my numbers."

Sarah pouted, both because she hadn't been convincing enough and also because she hated to hear how over-worked her bestie was. "Well, we'll have to meet up sometime when you have a minute. I miss you, girlie!"

"I miss you, too!" Maddie responded, giving Sarah another loving hug.

"You be careful! Text me when you get home, please!"

"Oh, absolutely, I'd like that. And Connor, you take care of her for me!" Maddie threatened playfully. Connor returned comments of assurance before giving his well-wishes as well. She didn't like goodbyes, but thankfully they were all around Vancouver and it was easy enough to make plans. Maddie would just have to survive wedding season first.

"Well, we'll let you go! Please, be careful!"

"I will. Love you," Maddie said, with one final goodbye.

"We love you, too!"

Before Maddie left, Connor left the table to give her his personal farewells. His hug was tighter than Sarah's but it came with a meaning.

"Hey, thanks for taking care of Quinn the other night. I appreciate it."

Maddie pulled away, and looked upon his face with confusion. "He told you about that?"

"Yeah, and he was pretty embarrassed. I just wanted to thank you. I don't think anyone else would have done that."

She gave him a slight nod, a silent agreement between the two of them. Maddie waved back to the table once they parted ways and turned back towards the direction of the main lobby. At the same time she was leaving, Quinn rounded the corner and stopped when he saw her. Those legs, bare beneath the pale, floral sundress she was wearing; the same ones he vaguely remembered touching by accident. The dread came flooding in once again, remembering bits and pieces of things he had done that morning. She was leaving and he found himself feeling sad yet he was unable to do anything but watch her go. It was only after she was out of sight that he forced himself to walk again.

"Ah, there he is!" Connor teased, seeing Quinn finally darken the patio doorway. "You just missed Maddie. You know, if you hurry you might be able to apologize to her before she leaves."

Quinn looked down and sighed. It would take him a second to take his seat at their table.

"It's alright, bud, we all do stupid shit around pretty girls sometimes."

Sarah gave her husband's arm a slight tap, "Baby! Don't tease him like that! That's not nice!"

"Oh, he's fine, but you should have seen him, though. I don't think he blinked the whole time we stood there."

"Connor! Stop it!" By now, Sarah was trying not to laugh.

"Is she still dating the Henrik Lundqvist looking guy?" Connor asked, taking a slightly more serious turn with the conversation.

"Who, Jared? No, they split a year ago or something," Sarah recollected before taking a sip of her champagne drink. "I couldn't stand that guy. He was a pretentious asshole."

"Wasn't he a lawyer or something?"

"I think so, yeah. I mean, I know what she saw in him, but Christ. She's better off."

"Now's your chance, Quinny! Next year, it's your wedding we'll be going to if you play your cards right!"

"Ha, yeah, okay," he mumbled, his eyes scanning the morning's specials instead of interacting directly with the couple.

"I don't see Quinn the type to get engaged and married within a year," Sarah said, looking upon the young man with a smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Of course, she'd love to see her best friend find a great guy to be with, but she wasn't sure if Quinn was that fit either.

"I don't know, you should have seen how he looked at her, babe. It looked like love at first sight to me."

"I'm sitting right here," Quinn said in a huff, starting to get annoyed with the constant berating.

"Alright, alright! Fair enough," Connor chuckled.

Quinn's mind was racing like his heart in his chest. He still felt terrible about everything he had done, that other people knew, and that Maddie's opinion of him was probably terrible. He'd sit with Connor and Sarah through brunch, mostly hearing them talk, occasionally including him when needed. His mind was elsewhere: replaying the night before, wondering what he could do to rectify the past situation, and wondering if he'd ever see the tall brunette that called him Prince Charming, again.

After brunch, Quinn would remember that he had her phone number. By then, however, she would be hitting

Quinn: Hey, I'm really sorry about last night.

I hope I didn't do anything to offend you last night. (1:15pm)

Quinn: I feel awful about everything.

You were very kind to me, through everything. (1:25pm}

Quinn: I'm sorry if I'm rambling and bothering you. (1:27pm)

Quinn: I'd love to make it up to you, if you'd let me. (1:31pm)

Quinn: I know you're busy with work right now, but if you have some free time, may I take you to dinner sometime? (1:33pm)

Quinn: I'm sure you're still driving.

Sorry to keep messaging you. (1:37pm)

Maddie: You don't have anything to apologize for. <3 I'm just hoping you're feeling better! (2:45pm)

Maddie: Dinner sounds nice, but you don't have to do that just because you're sorry. (2:45pm)

Quinn: I'm tired, but I'm okay. Thank you. Did you make it home okay? (2:46pm)

Quinn: I am sorry about my actions, but I honestly would like to take you out. Genuinely. (2:46pm)

Maddie: :) You're sweet!

And yes, just got in, thanks. (2:53pm)

Quinn: That's good. (2:55pm)

Quinn: Hope you have a good afternoon and evening. (3:25pm)

Maddie: Sorry! My phone died! I didn't realize what my battery was on! D: (3:50pm)

Quinn: It's okay. (3:51pm)

Maddie: I'll let you know by the end of the week what my schedule looks like.

I'm already a day behind so I've a lot of catching up to do! :/

Where do you want to go for dinner? ;) (3:55pm)

Quinn: No rush. It sounds like a lot.

How do you feel about sushi? (3:58pm)

Maddie: It's my favourite! :D 🩷🩷🩷(4:05pm)

Quinn: Mine, too.

I'll make it up to you, I promise. (4:09pm)

Maddie: Nothing to make up for, Quinn. <3 Promise.

Take it easy, okay? (4:12pm)

Quinn: Okay, I'll try.

Have a good evening. (4:19pm)

I really worked hard on this daydream; days of brainstorming and note making. I hope at least one of you enjoys it. c: I can't guarantee a consistent posting schedule but I will do my best to get a couple out each month, as they tend to be a little on the longer side.

If you have any requests for stand-alone blurbs, please don't hesitate to reach out in my Asks.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #nhl fanfiction #nhl x oc #quinn hughes fluff

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wisttwist · 5 months ago

Text

jester's privilege

(past) nebu (nathaniel) & reader, morningstar (ithaqua) & reader cliche scene where the hero enters the defeated kings bedroom and all the concubines are crawling all over him but instead of a dozen concubines trying to seduce him it's a single crusty manservant making middle school tier jokes warnings: mentions of canon typical war crimes etc

...

There was a small, breathtakingly ugly cushion in the corner of the room, bright primary colours clashing with the creams and golds of the late Tower Lord's interior design (which was also ugly, Helel would like to append).

A similarly small and breathtakingly ugly servant (?) sits on this cushion, presently engaged in thrilling (mind numbing) icebreakers (he would like to break some ice over your head, yes) with the Sun Eater as he idly turned over Nebuchadnezzar's royal paraphernalia.

"So he doesn't bed you and you aren't politically valuable. Then why are you in here, and not out there?" He gestures to the smoke from the mines, visible from the tower window.

"He doesn't send me to the quarries because I'm special. I'm his special boy."

"He calls you that?"

"No."

Helel made the temporary generalization that conversation with you was a waste of oxygen and stalks off to continue his inspection of the room, deaf to your remarks.

A voice comes from right behind his shoulder. "What do I call you?" Somehow, you'd soundlessly traversed the cluttered floor to stand uncomfortably close.

He scowls. So much for ignoring you. "Don't you know who I am?"

"I do live in a cell." You mumble, picking your nose and wiping the snot on your pants.

For a second, the Eclipse considers retelling the story of his conquest for the nth time but honestly, he wasn't sure how much more gloating he could wring out of it, especially with this audience. "It doesn't matter who I am. Just know that I'm the new king."

"Your voice is very familiar."

"No it's not."

"Very well. It's not." You fidget on the spot, bell-studded clothes jingling. "Do I call you sire? Or are you more formal?"

"Do as you wish."

Satisfied with his vague and minimalist answers, he returns to his prior task of sorting through the Sun King's old shit; mentally categorizing them for later: keep, trash, take to the thrift store, incinerate. Surveying the shelves, he sighs. This would be a lengthy task.

…

"Do you want a tour?" Breathing on the back of his neck, again. Uncomfortably close, again.

Helel gives you a firm push back. "No."

"Are you still wondering what my purpose was?" You chirp, undeterred as ever.

"If I recall correctly, the Sun King already had a clown in his court. I freed him way back when." Maybe if Helel paid more attention to that event, he'd note that the Encroached did mention an irritating bell-wearing obstacle between him and his master. Not that you can prepare for this brand of mild but persistent evil. "But considering this room is full of useless junk, it's not hard to guess why you're here."

Ignoring his jab, you sidle close once more, plotting another invasion attempt on his personal space. "Jesters and clowns are two different things."

Yeah, you were different. The other guy was less annoying. Mercifully, he elects to give a noncommittal grunt instead of mentioning this detail, hoping that you'll lose interest in trying to continue your conversation.

The Sun Eater lifts up a decanter of mystery fluid (pale and golden like everything else). He's about to lean in to give it a smell test when you stop him. "That's not wine, sire."

Owlishly, his head swivels around to face you.

You close your eyes sagely and pause for dramatic effect, wasting more of Helel's time on waiting for you to elaborate. "It's pee."

The decanter shatters on the floor. You watch him frantically wipe his hands off on the expensive curtains. "What the fuck?"

A good poker face is a crucial survival skill for your occupation, but given your employer is currently burning in hell, you are very much off the clock right now. You double over with laughter. "Oh heavens, sire. You're too gullible, oh stars and suns, oh- Oh!"

Helel's clawed hand yanks you up by the hair. "Are you five years old. Greater men have died for lesser-"

"Let me down, please, sire!" The twinge of stifled laughter slurring your pleas for your life don't help your case. "I'm sorry! Please!"

You're dropped in a crumpled, jingling heap on the floor. Briefly, the Morning Star considers sending you to the gallows, but is it really worth the effort? Your transgressions, frequent as they were, weren't significant enough for that. Besides, on a smaller level he won't admit, his pride refuses to let you get to him. "I'll take you up on the tour offer." He declares with finality, crossing his arms. "You touch everything before I do."

"Yes, sire!" You jump up to attention, back ramrod straight in a mockery of military obedience. "Does that make me the royal toucher? Or king's toucher? That's like being a king's taster but instead of tasting-"

Your voice trails off as you feel Helel's glare burning through his mask and into your skull.

"Ahem. On the left, we have war spoils from the southeastern peninsula…"

…

Truly, the home renovation aspect of overthrowing corrupt tyrants is underestimated. The remainder of the afternoon was spent sorting doohickeys into piles in the middle of the floor for future storage. Or rather, Helel did the majority of the heavy lifting while you (un)helpfully stood in the corner, regaling him with tales of the previous regime and the exact happenings of court life. He wants to tell you to stop talking for 5 minutes and do something useful but you would probably cite the importance of 'moral support' and try to weasel your way out of it. Besides, even if you were trying to do something of substance, it probably involved inventing new ways to fuck up moving furniture, fiddling with his temper even further. You were like a mosquito, he decides. Too little to do real damage, too much to be ignored.

"There was this one time I was doing a bit about his virility and he said he could prove me wrong right there if I wanted." You were presently cross legged on an intricate rug (tribute from the Sun King's unfortunate allies), juggling a series of crystal balls (priceless artifacts, stained with blood by the 'divine' conqueror). "So I said 'You should know that I'm a eunuch', and he went, 'It doesn't matter.' We were hilarious."

The Usurper scratches his chin, half listening. It didn't sound hilarious, just weird. "You're sure he didn't bed you?"

"A joke is just a joke, you know."

"Okay. Just checking." Helel paused. "Then are you really a eunuch?"

"Are you gonna check that too?"

"No." You were really getting your money's worth from that previous temporary generalization.

…

After the walls and shelves were bare, and the loot was bundled up in leather bags, the Eclipse sank into one of the plush chairs, kicking his feet onto the table and massaging his temples. With any luck, you were as tired as he was, and he could slip away while you rested.

You yawned. "Ahh. That's enough for one day, I think." Helel watched as you plopped back down on your hideous cushion, procuring a lit pipe from thin air and taking a hefty drag. "Will you be looking for new furnishings?"

"Probably. This stuff is way too tacky."

A wisp of smoke drifts past, and the Morning Star feels that tell-tale foreboding feeling behind his shoulder again. "Will you be looking for new castle staff?" You bat your eyelashes.

He meets your expectant gaze with the exhaustion of someone who just fought another war and lost. "You're staying?"

Deliberately misinterpreting his question as a statement, you perk up, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I can't refuse a direct order such as that! Especially not from his most esteemed, illustrious (and if I may add, very handsome) Majesty!" Bowing at the waist with a bell-bedecked flourish, you shoot back to eye level with hands clasped, nearly butting him in the head with your stupid hat. "When do I start work?"

...

(jump cut to jester being tossed out of tower window) this is too long to be funny but idc anymore. next time i'll write romance but i needed to fulfill my desire to annoy him

#identity v #identity v x reader #ithaqua #nathaniel norwell #ithaqua x reader #hey hey if i don't tag it nobodys gonna see it

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violettduchess · 11 months ago

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A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view.

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof.

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories.

Sometimes she needs rescuing.

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts.

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace.

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana.

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze.

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath.

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls.

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite.

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain.

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers.

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence.

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–”

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip.

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion.

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating.

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.”

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then.

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri cyran #cyran rose #ikemen cyran #ikepri cyril #cyril rose #ikemen cyril #my ikemen valentine gift exchange #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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undergroundoracle · 3 months ago

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New Occult and Paranormal Adventures For Your Superhero Games!

Cypher Shorts: Dark Supers Shorts Vol. 1 is live!

I'm not going to lie, this is the volume I've been waiting to get out in front of you for more than a hot minute. We're big, big fans of the supers genre in general here at UO headquarters, but the occult/paranormal corners of comics are flush with storytelling potential. Plus, it's full-on fall and we're getting in that appropriately spooky mood.

If you were a reader of 90s Vertigo comics, you'll undoubtedly see a lot of their influence in this volume, although Kayla went with a more modern/Zach Snyder approach to 'Doom is the Cost of Power' that you're also going to love.

This was an incredibly fun and refreshing volume to write and I would love to hear how these scenarios play out at your tables in the comments below or on the socials.

If you're a member of the Sage or higher tier, use promo code 'SAVIOUR_MACHINE' to grab your free copy from the UO store below. (This code will expire when the next volume of shorts drops.)

Read more about what's inside below and then head over and grab your copy at the links.

UO Store | Drivethru

Enjoy and happy gaming!

~ Jess

This Volume of Cypher Shorts Includes:

A Darkening Light: The characters are each a part of the occult and supernatural underworld who have been brought together to stop a fallen angel from opening a gate to a dark dimension. Can they outmaneuver the sinister powereds protecting her before she cracks the door to the end of days?

Doom is the Cost of Power: Years ago, the characters each made a deal that made them the most powerful heroes on Earth. All that was required in exchange for their power was a favor that would be called due sometime in the future. Now, it's time to pay their tab, and it could spell the end of the world they traded their souls to protect.

The Far Side Of Town: The characters are a team of outsiders who have been called in to deal with Reverie, a powered who has trapped a psychiatric hospital in her dreamscape. Can they get her to release her psychic hold or will they find themselves lost in the psychedelic recesses of her subconscious?

#ttrpg #cypher system #dark supers #Cypher Shorts #indie publishing #superheros #vertigo comics

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dinoshimaaa · 1 year ago

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some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it.

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

#CAN YOU BELIEVE FEIYUE POSTED AGAIN. WHAT #DURING EXAM SEASON TOO ❓❓❓❓🔥🔥🔥🔥#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #dawg why all these fatui bitches have so many names

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