#sage general store

[hisgoddess34incense]

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[simp4konig]

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: “Дор��гая, 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 😋✌️).

[bookshelfdreams]

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)

[winterrrnight]

“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 ->

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“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.

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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.”

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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

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[moonchild033]

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 😒)

[itsabouttimex2]

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.

[bullet-prooflove]

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

[billielolly]

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

[violettduchess]

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

[jabberwockypie]

Experiencing some very "no knowledge is wasted and no love is wasted" feels right now.

I've been a toy collector for most of my life, but it's generally dolls. I am, however, pretty decent at working out the ways people list things wrong - I've gotten several inexpensive dolls that were just listed as "American Girl doll" because I knew how to look.

I don't like horses. The real ones kinda freak me out. I had some My Little Pony as a kid in the 80s, but I've never been interested in realistic horse toys.

Had a friend as a teenager - 20+ years ago - who was very into Breyer horses. We'd look for them for her at thrift stores and stuff - I can remember sending her several boxes over the years, including one with a Breyer moose whose had a broken off antler. We fell out of touch years and years ago.

And now Lynati, my dear friend and roommate, has gotten back into Breyer horses after a couple of decades of not doing that, and I can use my skills to help her find horsies and nod sagely and say things like "Ah, yes, the Proud Arabian Stallion mold" or "Yes, I know what Stablemates are".

(I do not know the correct horse words or horse breeds, I can just recognize toys I've seen before. I do not anticipate that I will ever learn the horse words at this point. They're always going to be things like "the dark brown one" or "the spotted one".)

Anyway if any of my followers are like "I have some old Breyer horses I don't want anymore, but I want them to go to someone who will love and appreciate them and tell them they're pretty" hit me up?

[undergroundoracle]

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?

[dinoshimaaa]

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.)

[adrianasunderworld]

TwstxStardew Valley au!

Yuu inherited the Ramshackle farm from their grandfather. It's located in the little town of Night Raven in the Valley of Sages. Shortly after moving in, they find a cat called Grim. Now it's up to Yuu to restore the farm and town to it's former glory. All the characters are the townsfolk, all the staff are the ones that run the local businesses, and Crowley is the mayor. And all the students are the marriage candidates.

Sam runs the general store, but unlike Pierre he's pretty cool. Vargas is the blacksmith. Trien is the librarian, and his cat hangs out amongst the shelves. Crewel I was thinking we have a new business that is the local clothing store where you can buy the bag upgrade from him and instead of the sewing machine being in Emily's house, it's in the shop. So all that stuff would be in one place.

Kalim as the resident animal lover I can see being the one that sells you your farm animals. Maybe his business is a branch of his parents much larger business that he runs and Jamil is his employee.

I feel like it goes without saying that Idia is the Sebastian here. He's the freelance programmer living in his parents basement, and Ortho Is his kid brother you see running around town that always tells Yuu about how cool his brother actually is.

Silver lives with his veteran dad in their little cottage in the woods outside your farm, they like living off the land out there. I can also see Lilia and Baul as the ones that run the adventurers guild. Maybe the Zigvolt family dental clinic is also in town and Sebek works there. And in that same vein, maybe Mrs. Rosehearts is the town doctor and her son, Riddle, is her assistant. She's planned everything out that Riddle will become a doctor like her and take over the clinic one day.

Epel is still a farm boy here, it feels right, he's in his element in this au. The Felmiers run an orchard on the opposite side of town. His granny used to know your grandpa, and maybe Farmer Yuu can buy fruit tree saplings from them.And of course get a good price on the apple ones.

Deuce is the former town delinquent that lives with his single mom. He's doing his best to turn their life around, he grew out of his old ways and wants to do better. I can see his heart events being about people assuming he's going to cause trouble because of his old habits and Deuce having to prove he's not that little teenage punk anymore. And instead of Idia/Sebastian, Deuce is the one that takes you on the motorcycle date if you romance him.

Mostro Lounge is the equivalent of the Stardrop Saloon, and Azul is th owner with the tweels working for him.

Malleus I can see being the one that lives in the wizard tower in the woods outside your farm. He's studied magic all his life because it's all he's ever known. But he wants very badly to interact with the town and the villagers, but everyone tends to stay away. The only exceptions being Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. That is until Yuu moves in and discovers his tower, and once Malleus helps them understand the Juiminos in the community center, they become better friends.

@mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.187 Passing the keys

That night, I went back to the rental website to fill the vacancy because it didn't make sense to wait. The house had been sitting all this time, waiting to generate income for us, and it was past time I did something about it. I decided to rent to the older gentlemen, but his application was no longer available. I was kind of bummed because I had already formed a picture in my mind of what he would be like based on the information he shared on the application, and now I'd have to start over. The plus side is that I found a young family like I originally wanted, so I accepted their application right away. In the morning, I got a notification saying they had moved in already, so I went over there after breakfast to introduce myself and get to know them. The application stated they were a married couple with twin infants. The house wasn't exactly setup for two babies, but they can make it work.

As I approached the door, I overheard them arguing, and my whole body tensed up. They reminded me of Mama's friends, who stayed with us and argued literally day and night. I hope to the Watcher these two are not like that. I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could get an idea of what the issue was. It turns out the woman was flustered because she saw a lost dog who needed help but ignored it. She felt guilty about it and wanted to go back and find the dog, but the husband didn't get it. He was very dismissive and said dogs get lost all the time and it was none of her business if someone can't keep track of their animal. Oh boy. This better not be a bad omen. I knocked, hoping to interrupt him berating her, and they let me in. Owen and Jilliana Sage are their names. Owen works at a store and seemed to have a good sense of humor, so maybe he's not so bad. Jilliana is more serious and super smart. She works at the space center, but I don't remember what she said she does there.

She tried to introduce me to the babies, Xavier and Zahava, but they both started screaming because Owen had the TV way too loud. Xavier calmed down enough to let me hold him, though. He was so tiny and made me miss Desiree at that age. I didn't intend to spend the day with them, and they clearly had things to do, so I told them to call me if they needed anything and made my exit.

I had to pass by Chi Chi's house on the way back home, so I stopped by to tell her we were moving to Gibbs Gardens soon. She was bummed about not being around the corner from us anymore, but relieved we weren't leaving the city. Behind her eyes, however, there seemed to be more than just disappointment at losing her favorite neighbor. I asked if something was wrong, and in Chi Chi-like fashion, I got way more than I bargained for.

As she began this tale, my initial reaction was to beat myself up again about not being a good friend because the details of her story started a while ago. But I stopped those thoughts before my brain ran away with them. We all have super busy lives. No one has time to be involved at such a granular level anymore, and no one is expecting us to know everything. I am a good friend, and I don't have to know every detail to prove it. Come to think about it, my friends—minus Dub—know less about me than I know about them. Needless, I'm done with stressing myself about this.

Chi Chi's woes began with her birthday a few weeks back. Like many women her age (especially when they are as fine as she is), she didn't handle the adult birthday well. Of course, she knew her body would change, but like me, seeing it hit differently. Between that and the little lines creeping from the corners of her eyes and across her forehead, she's feeling frumpy. I almost laughed. She is still one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Frumpy where?? She would turn heads wearing a paper bag. I bet she could gain 300 pounds, shave off her hair, and still have a trail of thirsty men following her everywhere. Still, if the aging stuff was the only thing she had to deal with, she would be fine in time. The problem is all her other worries reinforce the aging issues, and she is struggling. The short version of the story is her life has not turned out how she imagined. She once told me she wanted to remarry and have more kids, but all the dates she's been on led nowhere. Now, as an adult, she's thinking about giving up on that dream, especially when she's about to be a grandmother! Karmine, her daughter, is grown grown now. She moved her boyfriend into the house without even discussing it. Then, she got pregnant and moved out, so Chi Chi is all alone in the house with nothing but these crushing thoughts to keep her company, and she's not doing that great.

I had no idea if it would help, but I decided to share my midlife crisis story. It felt wrong at first because I never told Sophia I was struggling, but if Chi Chi can walk away feeling better, the discomfort will be worth it. Even though her story is different, I identified with everything she said because I realized life rarely turns out exactly how we plan. The reason is because we never factor in trouble or change. Our plans are always perfect and positive. When change and trouble comes, we feel out of control, like our world is falling apart. But the world isn't falling apart. It's the same as it always was. We just haven't taken off our rose-colored glasses yet.

I told Chi Chi everything would be okay, and she should look at it from a positive perspective. Because she's not starting a new family, and is an empty nester, she's got so much extra time to do all those bucket list things she's been looking forward to. And since she won't have any young children to raise, she has time to time to be super grandma and help her daughter through those oh so difficult first two stages. She's still really young and can reinvent herself if she wanted. And when love finally finds her again, and I believe it will, it will be all about them with no one else coming between them. They'll grow old together and be annoyingly in love.

Like I said, I have no clue if my little pep talk helped, but at least I left her smiling. Kinda like grieving, she'll find her way to accepting her new normal, and when she does, she'll appreciate the picture I painted for her.

[z0mbi3k1d]

Can you do downtown girl plssss????

Ofc!!!

Wanna get this aesthetic??

This is called the downtown girl aesthetic, its all about coffee, books, autumn, and music (it's not music based though there is a stereotypical gener that'll be linked beloww) and I'm gonna tell you how to dress if you wanna look like this!

Where do I shop? 📚

Old navy

Amazon (yes I'll link a list)

Ross

H&M

Thrift stores

What items should I get? 🎧

(All in colors/patterns that'll be listed below)

Zip up jackets

Jeans

Simple skirts

Sweaters

Cardigans

Band tees

Converses

Cargo pants

Patterns + colors ☕

Colors:

Red

Navy blue

Black

Brown

Sage green

Patterns

Plaid

Stripes (like in the pics)

Stars and spirals

Accessories 🍂

Tote bags

Headphones

Silver necklaces/rings

Scarf

Sunglasses

Black tights

Additional things 🍵

Downtown girl aesthetic is associated with fall so the clothes tend to be warmer

A lot of downtown girls read books so if you look it up that's a lot of what you'll see

Lipstick under your eyes is so cute with this aesthetic!!

Room inspo: lots of prints, vines, and fairy lights

Links 🍁

Amazon:

Playlist:

Upcoming posts 🍐

Fun things to do on your laptop

LayZ post

Thanks for reading!! 🩷

Make sure to drink lots of water and stay safe!! And you should go follow my insta!!

-Lacey~♡

[wisttwist]

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