#simpe extract

[picknmixsims]

BHAV Finder - Update

BHAV Finder V1.8

Changed the selection mode for the Found BHAVs grid to select the full row and added a right-click context menu that extracts the selected BHAVs in SimPE package.xml format.

[geosaurus]

sinner, you better get ready

[boiboiperson]

Not only is he a bad dad but hes also a cringe dad

[plumbogs]

good evening simblr. i made a poorly edited meme about my own gameplay. next time? maybe more

[mildlysaltysim]

Once again baffled where I went wrong in the last part of the beginning body mesh tutorial (and here I thought the milkshape part was easy,,,,)

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[xxgoldie]

kinich x reader, modern au, gamer!kinich, gn!reader, established relationship, probably ooc kinich or he's just that down bad for u

thinking about kinich, who is reminded of your wedding while chatting to his gaming buddies between matches, and doesn't understant the outcry when he finishes his anecdote.

"you're MARRIED!?!?"

the exclamation rang so loudly through his headset that the sound became warped.

"yeah? I have been for a while."

"what the fuck dude. since fucking when??"

"like nearly three years now? our anniversary's next month- have I seriously not mentioned this?"

"no!! I mean, I knew about (Y/N), but you've never mentioned being married!"

the revelation struck kinich into silence. sure, it wasn't the kind of group that regularly talked about their personal life, but he must have mentioned being married to you - he had been gaming with these people since barely after your wedding. he spoke of you often enough, albeit in passing.

...though, now he thought about it, he did usually just refer to you by name. and it had taken him a little while to break out of the habit of calling you his partner, so maybe that's what he had introduced you as. shit, had he really not told them you were married?

"i- you know what, let me turn on my camera. (Y/N)!"

soft footsteps, and then you poked your head into the bedroom.

"what's up, kin?"

"c'mere," he beckoned, arm snaking around your waist when you reached his chair. you noticed the camera was on, and gave a shy wave, never having shown your face to his online friends before, "so, uhh. apparently i never told them we're married."

you could hear the guffaws and teasing through the headset, no doubt laughing about how he's gonna be in the doghouse for this one. but once his sheepish words finally processed in your mind, all you could do was look at him and laugh, first in disbelief before it turned into full, chest-aching laughter.

"you what??" you managed, resting your forehead in his hair as you continued to laugh, "how on earth did you manage that?"

"i honestly don't know," he responded, beginning to laugh with you. in his ear, his teammates were chuckling about how he was lucky to have such a forgiving spouse, but he was more focused on your body pressed against his side and your infectious laugh as you extracted yourself from his hair to look down at him with a bemused smile. he just knew he was never going to hear the end of this, but that adoring gleam in your eyes had him as besotted as he had been approximately two years and eleven months ago.

"well, guys," you turned to face his grainy camera, your face next to kinich's to speak into his mic. you held your hand up, proudly flashing your wedding band, "believe it or not, the rumours are true. kinich is my husband."

you didn't catch the lovestruck look he was sending you, but through his headset, you just about caught someone calling him a simp.

modern au gamer kinich always has my heart. wc: 493

[persimmonthusiast]

Cabin-in-a-Bag Tent from Outdoor Retreat | 4t2 conversion I've wanted this tent for so long! but I think no one converted it so far? So I did it, with a bit of help from @littlelittlesimmies who kindly extracted the resources for me It ended up being a mini-set of 3 objects:

Cabin-in-a-Bag tent A functional, fully animated tent sitting on 4x4 tiles. It can only accomodate 2 sims like Maxis' BV tent, but has better comfort and sleep stats. §1070 | Comfort - Misc

Decorative Canopy Repo'd to the functional tent §300 | Decorative - sculptures

Decorative Tent Sims can access the inside and will not walk through the walls. Repo'd to the functional tent §650 | Decorative - sculptures

Comes in the 7 original recolors **DOWNLOAD (SFS)**

This is definitely one of the most complex projects I've worked on so far, and not having to create the mesh and textures from scratch I could focus on other more advanced aspects of object editing. I learned a lot of new SimPE skills in the process!

Thanks in particular to @crispsandkerosene and @blueheavensims for the tutorial on editing object footprint. I also figured out how to properly change motive settings thanks to this explanation by rebecah. I was actually shocked to discover that editing catalog ratings does not have any effect on gameplay... I somehow never checked in game before :')

[zorakihyena]

A hodgepodge of CC clutter

Plus decorative computers

Various CC I made for a grocery store I was building, a follow-up to my recent clutter upload.

I also made decorative lamps of the Moneywell computers, where they display various screens. They are perfect for setting up offices or technical control centers without causing all the Sims to flock to the regular computers to play SSX 3.

Download Computer Lamps Plus Recolors

Download Grocery Clutter Display + Urbz Blastikiss

~

Download Just 3t2 Groceries

Download Just PSP Display

Download Just Urbz Blastikiss Breath Spray

- Sims 2 Extracted Computer Lamps - Found under Lighting - Table Lamps §44

- Sims 2 PSP Display Shelf - Found under Appliances - Misc. §459

- Sims Urbz Blastikiss Breath Spray - Found under Plumbing - Misc. §69

- Sims 3t2 Capers - Found under Appliances - Misc. §3

- Sims 3t2 Capers Large - Found under Appliances - Misc. §5

- Sims 3t2 Lettuce - Found under Appliances - Misc. §5

- Sims 3t2 Corn from Brunch at the Old Mill Set - Found under Appliances - Misc. §6

- Sims 3t2 Watermelon - Found under Appliances - Misc. §14

- Information about the Computer Lamps:

If you're strict about what screen recolors the computers are displaying depending on what room/scene you are using them for, I have listed them based on the above picture gathered from their SimPE file names.

(Starting Top-Left, going Left to Right and down in Computer Lamps Picture)

- Word Processor - Writing Beginning

- Word Processor - Writing End

- Browser - Sports Results

- Browser - Art / Games Results

- Blog - Homepage

- Blog - Article

- Virus - Taken from the screen on Science Career Reward, it came out funny on the computer screen mesh so I left it

- Virus - Also taken from Science Career Reward

- Job Index

- Job Listing

- Email - Writing Message

- Email - Inbox

- Desktop

- Chatroom

- Chatroom - Sending Message

- Chatroom - Writing Message

- Loading Screen

- Boot Up Screen

- MESH (Bottom Center) uses Blue Screen of Death

[gaypleasantview]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☆ no more days to waste. // Autumn Drop Day 1 ☆₊‧⁺˖⋆

Moocha's Rope recolor of MDP's Chino Shorts shoeswapped with SkittlesSims' conversion of Solistair's High Tops Edit

⋆ TM-EM, everyday bottom

⋆ polycount: 2k

⋆ 15 swatches, repositoried or standalone

⋆ compressed, tooltipped, come with morphs

Link, swatch, detailed credits and more info under the cut ♡

Hi all! Autumn has come, and this is a cc creation season for me, so I was very happy to find myself doing it again after a long pause. That's why I decided to dedicate some time this October to post random things I've made, edited or converted recently. Despite various setbacks, it's been lots of fun!

The first thing I wanna share is what made me wanna get into making cc again in the first place. Having a teenage boy as your sim story protagonist can be tough sometimes with how limited the wardrobe options get, and it made me realize that there really aren't very many casual jean shorts with a sporty type of shoe available for teens, to the point where I've tried multiple options but none of them were the specific type of outfit I was looking for. Despite my fear of clothing meshing, out of sheer rage and desperation I turned to shoeswapping, and apparently it's quite a simple task! That's how these babies were born. These include work of many talented creators, detailed information on which you can find down below. I hope these will be as useful to somebody as they are to me!

There turned out to be 15 shorts swatches and 15 shoe swatches that I could extract from the original creations, so I combined those to my taste. Those textures are separate in the files so if anyone with basic SimPE knowledge wants to swap some colors around, it's supposed to be quite easy.

Credits: @mdpthatsme for the original 4t2 Chino Shorts mesh, @rented-space for the age conversions, @moocha-muses for the recolors, @simsontherope for the textures; solistair for the original TS4 High Tops shoes edit, SkittlesSims for the 4t2 conversion of those and some of the recolors, @mossylane for some of the recolors; deedee-sims because I used their Vans shoeswap as the base for my files; wow this is a really long list but the shorts and shoes are just that good; anyway as always thanks to this source for the graphics in the post

♡ Download ♡

Please choose one version!

⋆ Standalone: SFS | Mediafire ⋆ Repositoried to AM: SFS | Mediafire

♡ Swatch ♡

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker Special Stage Event - Tonpuu-machi Halloween Matsuri Afternoon Show Special Reading Drama (part 3 final)

Part 1 here! Part 2 here!

You can check out the rest of my translations here!

Choji: Ume-chan! (a lot of echoing) Ume-chan!!!

💙Umemiya 💙: Huh? This voice…

Choji: Ume-chan! Trick or treat! If you don’t give me candy I’m gonna prank you!

Togame: What’s going on here? Everyone’s getting all excited with ad-libbing huh? (t/n: CAUGHT RED-HANDED!!! YOU CAN SEE THE BOUFUURIN GUYS START LAUGHING WHEN HE SAID THIS)

Kaji: Shishitoren’s Tomiyama and Togame…! (t/n: bet he still hasn’t gotten over being beaten up by them in ep 4)

Sakura: Why are you guys here?

💙Umemiya 💙: The two of you came! Thanks!

Choji: Of course, it’s an invitation from a friend!

Togame: Thanks for the invite~

 Hiiragi: Oi, you invited these guys too?

💙Umemiya 💙: A party is more fun when there are more people, right!

Choji: Hey hey, look at this! I’m a bakeneko! (t/n: kinda like a werecat? But I’m not sure if he’s referring to the Japanese bakeneko or just a cat that can turn into a human) Nyan nyan! (t/n: THIS IS SO CUTE HE EVEN DOES IT WITH THE HAND ACTION)

(cue cheering from the audience)

Umemiya(?): He did it. 

Nirei: Amazing! The nyan nyan that Sakura-san couldn’t do, he did it so easily?!

Sakura: *angry blushing* It’s not that I couldn’t do it, I didn’t want to!!!

💙Umemiya 💙: Tomiyama! You did it so well!!!

Choji: Nyaaaan~ <3 (t/n: THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL)

Nirei: (writing it down in his notebook) Tomiyama is good at the nyan nyan pose…

Hiiragi: You don’t have to write that down.

Choji: Eh? Is that Sakura-chan? With those ears, are you a cat too?

Sakura: Wrong!!! I’m a wolf, don’t group me together with you!

Choji: I see, that’s a pity! I thought we could do the nyan nyan together!

Suo: Sorry about that, it seems that for Sakura-kun, the nyan nyan pose is still too difficult for him at this stage…

Sakura: Huh?!

Hiiragi: Togame too, you’ve dressed up well, haven’t you?

Togame: Choji said if there’s a black cat, there should be a witch, you know? But I’m digging this too. Especially these glasses.

Hiiragi: Yeah, it looks like a student from a particular school of magic.

Togame: Since I’m all dressed up, could I say a spell as well? Uhh, Expecto Patro- (t/n: the scriptwriter who wrote this in. Deserves a raise AND a bonus. The seiyuus confirmed that they were following the script here 👀)

Nirei: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That’s dangerous!

Togame: Huh?

Nirei: DON’T SAY ANYMORE THAN THAT.

Togame: Why?

Nirei: Don’t ask why! It says so in the script! (t/n: He actually said “book”, not script, but he was gesturing to the script when saying this, so I assume that’s what he meant)

Togame: Eh? Expecto-

Nirei: NOOOOOOOOOO. (t/n: Poor Shoya he’s been screaming the whole day lmao) It says so in the script!!!

Togame: Eh?

Hiiragi: Sorry about that, I don’t think that’s a good idea. (t/n: this might be wrong, feel free to correct me!)

Choji: Hey hey, Ume-chan! There’s a really nice smell nearby!

💙Umemiya 💙: Yeah! The good folks of the shopping street prepared a mountain of delicious food! You guys should eat up as well! (t/n: meanwhile I am suffering here from my recent wisdom tooth extraction and on a soft diet ;-;)

Choji: Kame-chan, did you hear that? Quick, let’s go!

Togame: Yes yes~

💙Umemiya 💙: I’m feeling hungry, let’s go too!

Hiiragi: Hang on, Umemiya! (but he has already left) *sighs* Let’s go too.

Nirei: Yes!

*scene change*

💙Umemiya 💙: Yosh, I’ve eaten so much! You guys, split up and help clean up ok!

Kaji, Nirei, Suo: Yes!

Suo: I’ll clean up the trash here, Nirei-kun could you handle that side?

Nirei: Understood!

Choji: Ume-chan! We can help out too!

💙Umemiya 💙: Really? If you could help out over there that’ll be great!

Togame: Gotcha~

Hiiragi: Sugishita and Kaji, could you help out with clearing the tables?

Sugishita: Yes.

Kaji: Understood. (t/n: I bet Hiiragi paired them so they can simp together about their oshis cos they won’t fight)

Sakura: This is burnable trash… That’s plastic… *very very big yawn*

💙Umemiya 💙: That’s a big yawn.

Sakura: Huh?! (in surprise and shock that he got caught) S-shut up!

💙Umemiya 💙: Heh, thanks for today. Thanks to you guys, everyone in the shopping street were so happy!

Sakura: It’s not like I did anything…

💙Umemiya 💙: Don’t say that! You did a cute pose too ^_^

Sakura: Forget that! That Suo, I’ll remember this…!

💙Umemiya 💙: Hehehe! But Sakura, you had fun right?

Sakura: Well… The food was great.

💙Umemiya 💙: Right?! Spending time with everyone like this and having fun with them is great right?

Sakura: Well, it wasn’t bad...

And that's all! I hope everyone enjoyed this~ It's still a little early, but-

🎃Happy halloween 🎃

[episims]

Differences between DXT5 / DXT3 / DXT1

The images above are all imported with SimPe's Built DXT... option, and then exported for previewing. The short version is:

You can't go wrong with DXT5 :)

I'll go through the differences under the cut.

DXT5

Supports transparency (alpha channel)

Preserves texture details well

Smooth gradient transparency

Filesize of the vase texture: 25 KB Filesize of the plant texture with gradient alpha channel: 26 KB Filesize of the plant texture without the gradient part: 20 KB

Useful for: textures that are solid or have a complex alpha channel.

Shouldn't be used for: –

DXT3

Supports transparency (alpha channel)

Preserves texture details well

Causes stripes on alpha channel gradients

Filesize of the vase texture: 25 KB Filesize of the plant texture with gradient alpha channel: 20 KB Filesize of the plant texture without the gradient part: 19 KB

Useful for: textures that are solid or have a well-defined alpha channel.

Shouldn't be used for: textures with alpha channel gradients.

DXT1

Doesn't support transparency (no alpha channel)

Pixelates texture details

Filesize of the vase texture: 21 KB Filesize of the plant texture: 14 KB

Useful for: solid one color textures with no details.

Shouldn't be used for: detailed textures, textures with transparency.

Both textures l used are 256x256. They came from TS4, thanks to @tvickiesims for extracting the textures! I added the gradient bit to the plant one.

[musings-of-miss-j]

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part five: in which the doctor extends an olive branch (of sorts) while childe and signora demand your cooperation and a certain someone laments your absence

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: very very slowburn, reader has an attitude and a touch of social anxiety, crack, fluff, vague flirting and emotionally constipated yet unfairly pretty people pining for you

warnings: blood and organs

as always, inform me if you find any pronoun slips!!

series masterlist

word count: 4722 words

author's note: next part will probably be out in the next two days :) please enjoy some weird mfs being simps in the meantime

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The Doctor was sitting at his desk reading over some files when you walked into the lab, his free hand holding a vial of bubbling golden liquid suspended in the air as though he’d been in the midst of something and got distracted by the paperwork. You idly wondered if the liquid would evaporate if he let it sit like that for too long while you briefly searched the lab for your cloak. You frowned when you didn’t find it. Where else could it possibly be? Dismissing the issue for now, you rolled up the sleeves of Childe’s coat yet again and checked on the fungi you were growing in petri dishes. If your hypothesis was correct, they’d mutate into the Tri-Lakshana fungi when exposed to concentrated Dendro energy, but before you could test that the samples had to grow. Which they were doing a fabulous job of; one strain in particular had completely covered the bottom of the petri dish, and you quickly transferred it to a larger surface to continue growing. A crow squawked from outside one of the laboratory’s enormous windows, and a cursory glance revealed it was one of the many that had taken to visiting your chamber’s window for food. It was easily identifiable from the purple stain across its claws; the wolfhook extract you’d used to mark them was clearly holding up well. 

So was the all-cure you’d taken that morning; reliable as always, it had reduced your headache to a tiny buzzing in the back of your skull, and the only thing that caused you mental pain at the moment was the thought of Signora and her unwelcome invitation. 

You chewed over the less-than-appealing prospect as you rummaged through the cabinets for a whopperflower stamen. The gala was bound to be uncomfortable, with the Harbingers and their political allies in attendance. You still hadn’t the slightest idea what had come over Signora to invite you; as far as you were concerned, you had absolutely no business being part of such an event. Not to mention the fact that you wouldn’t know anyone there, save for Childe, the Doctor and Signora, but you didn’t seek them out for conversation even in day to day situations, much less in galas where they’d no doubt have important people to chat up. All in all, the entire situation made you a little queasy, and you finished extracting the whopperflower nectar with an anxious sigh. 

You turned to take the bottles of nectar to the cooler, only to jump and stifle a yelp of surprise when you found the Doctor standing right in front of you. Honestly, what is it with these Harbingers and startling me?

“Doctor.” You acknowledged him with a nod. He leaned in closer still, resting his hands on the countertop behind you and effectively trapping you between it and himself. You were immediately struck by several revelations at once; the Doctor was significantly taller than you, tall enough to block out the light from the ceiling lamp and throw a shadow over you, and he was so incredibly close. For whatever reason, you suddenly found it a little hard to breathe.

“You left a few documents on your workbench last night.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Did I?”

“Yes,” he confirmed wryly, dropping a stack of paper on the countertop behind you. You transferred the bottle to one hand and picked the papers up with the other, a twist of nervousness settling in your stomach when you recognised them. You hadn’t meant for the Doctor to see these. 

“Ah, yes. I’ll take them back with me today.”

“Perhaps you’d like to explain why you have a comprehensive procedure for creating an artificial Vision in your possession,” he drawled, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head to the side as he watched you. You swallowed. 

“It was a… pet project, I never pursued it to completion,” you replied, hoping he’d leave it at that. 

“It’s quite the blasphemous study, don’t you think? Trying to recreate the power of the gods?” 

“Hence why I never completed it.”

“These lovely notes you left in the margins state otherwise,” he remarked, tapping the paper with a gloved finger. “In my laboratory, no less.”

Oh dear. “I-”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the rules, my dear student,” he cut you off.  “Any experiments you wish to carry out on my premises must be approved first. And this”- he tapped the stack of paper again- “was never submitted.”

You felt an embarrassed flush rise to your cheeks. You’d been caught red-handed. Dottore found himself more interested in the blush on your cheeks than your questionable research. Sadistic as he was, watching you scramble for an explanation was rather enjoyable. 

“My apologies, doctor. I let my curiosity get the better of me.”

“You have a recurring habit of doing that,” he replied amusedly. It occurred to you that he didn’t seem particularly angry. You fiddled with one of the buttons on Childe’s coat. 

“I acknowledge it as one of my faults.”

“So very righteous of you.”

“Not particularly, considering I do nothing to remedy it,” you muttered sheepishly in response. The Doctor chuckled. He has a nice laugh. Appalled at yourself, you bury the thought deep in the back of your mind in an attempt to forget you’d ever conjured it. 

“Well, well, well. It seems my apprentice has a rebellious streak after all.” He grinned lazily, stepping back and resting his weight on the countertop behind him so you could slip past and store away the nectar to cool. 

You feel yourself flush anew. Archons, this is horrifically embarrassing. “Once again, I apologise for acting without approval.”

“And if I don’t accept your apology?” Dottore asked, more to see you squirm than anything else. 

“I suppose I’ll conveniently vanish from the face of Teyvat without a trace, doctor.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Why, are you implying I’d have you killed?”

“Well, consider this: your interpretation is ultimately a reflection of your subconscious,” you replied, shooting him a lopsided, slightly uncertain smile over your shoulder. This was unfamiliar ground, joking around with the Doctor, and you were afraid to overstep. He returned the smile with twice the intensity and amount of teeth; you caught a glimpse of his fangs. 

“If that is true, then perhaps you’d do well to watch your mouth.”

You turned away to hide your widening smile, chuckling softly under your breath. Exchanging barbs with the Doctor was proving to be incredibly fun. 

“Would you like me to offer you a third apology?”

“I’m feeling generous,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “I’ll forgo causing your disappearance in exchange for your assistance in an experiment.”

“Deal,” you agree with a mock-serious nod, shrugging off Childe’s coat when the sleeves slipped past your fingertips for the millionth time. It wouldn’t do to have them in the way, and besides, the lab was warmer than the rest of the palace. “What’s the procedure?”

Three hours later, you slumped over the marble workbench with a groan. Blood stained your arms all the way up to your elbows, and your favourite turtleneck was utterly ruined. The experiment was a lengthy, gory process; the removal of organs for individual study. Though you were hardly one to shy away from getting your hands a little dirty, this was a little much even for you. You’d gone through thirteen scalpels alone, but at the very least the liver, brain and kidneys you’d extracted were perfectly intact and more than suitable to be experimented on. You wished for an immediate solution to your agonising back pain after holding yourself stiffly over a corpse for hours, though; you couldn’t even keep yourself upright, your forehead pressing against the cool surface. It helped with the headache that was gradually squirming its way back into your skull. 

“Tired?” The Doctor asked, sparing your collapsed body an amused glance. He was somehow perfectly fine, much to your indignation. 

“I think tests on my organs would reveal unprecedented results at this moment,” you grumbled without lifting your head. Your hair splayed across the marble, which you recognised as a potential source of contamination yet wholeheartedly dismissed in favour of giving your aching muscles a rest. Dottore tugged off his bloodied gloves, watching you with a bemused smirk. 

“That can certainly be arranged,” he replied, baring his teeth in a shark-like smile. You shot him a withering glare then fumbled with the chain attached to your belt to check the time; your pocket watch smugly informed you that it was close to midnight. A muttered curse slipped past your lips, foul enough to make even Dottore raise his eyebrows behind his mask and do a double take while you ruminated over the unpleasant possibility that the dining hall would be closed at this time, and you idly wondered if dried jueyun chilis would serve as an adequate substitute for fresh ones (you knew perfectly well they didn’t even compare, but deluding yourself was an infinitely more appealing prospect at the moment.) You heard the clinking of jar lids, specially sealed with an anti-moisture formula developed from the pollen of Nilotpala lotuses. 

“Add a little slime condensate to the brain,” you muttered into the countertop with an absent-minded gesture of your hand. 

“My, my, how brazen of you to issue orders to your superior.”

“Please add a little slime condensate to the brain, doctor,” you quipped back with enough sarcasm to make the title sound like an insult. 

“No,” Dottore replied pleasantly, sealing away the liver and kidneys. “It’ll disrupt the ion concentration and water content.”

“That would be true if I said concentrate, but I didn’t. Slime condensate is dilute enough to not interfere with the neurons' cytoplasm, but it’ll keep the brain fresher.”

“Very good,” he said approvingly. He’d heard you, and he knew you were right, but he’d wanted to test you. “You retain your focus even in subpar conditions.” 

“As expected of any scientist worth their salt,” you said wryly, lifting your head to rub your eyes and grope along the countertop for your glasses. You were a little miffed that he’d felt the need to test your understanding of such a simple concept. 

You rubbed your eyes again. “Doctor, can you see my glasses?” You asked, squinting to observe the array of equipment strewn across the workbench. 

“No,” he lied, twirling them between his fingers and watching you search for them. You clicked your tongue with dissatisfaction, leaning in closer to the workbench’s surface in an attempt to see more clearly. Dottore bit back a chuckle. 

“Oh, damn it all. I could’ve sworn they were right here…” 

“Can’t find them?” He asked, an obvious lilt of amusement in his voice. You looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You have them, don’t you?”

“Ah, you saw through me so quickly,” he said, sounding simultaneously impressed and disappointed. “Am I really so obvious?”

“Hand them over,” you demanded, holding out your hand. 

He grinned so wide that you saw the flash of white from his teeth even with your vision blurred. 

“Such a shameful manner to adopt with a superior,” he said with a shake of his head. 

You rubbed your eyes and let out an exasperated huff. You could sense a shift in your dynamic with the Doctor, but clearly he was the only one who knew how to navigate it, leaving you disoriented and unsure of how to respond. 

“Doctor. It’s nearing one in the morning, and I have to return to my dormitory. Which I can’t safely do without being able to see half a metre in front of me.”

“Surely your eyesight isn’t quite that terrible.” He knew it was. In fact, he had a perfect copy of your first diagnosis and most recent check-up in his file of you. That file had grown to concerning sizes ever since your apprenticeship began. The Doctor reasoned that it would be a scientific sin if he didn't document everything he could about such a fascinating test subject. You sighed; you had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“Please give me my glasses.”

You didn’t he could possibly grin any wider, but he proved you wrong. Despite his amusement being at your expense, you still found yourself thinking that his smile wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Objectively speaking, of course.

“In exchange for what?” He drawled, raising his eyebrows behind his mask.

An indignant flush rose to your face. In your defence, it was late, and the Doctor really was being an ass.

“In exchange for your DNA cloning not to be tampered with,” you fumed. “It would be a shame if someone were to denature the enzymes. Or accidentally alter the base sequence.”

“My dear student, are you threatening me?”

“The glasses, doctor.” You held out your hand again.

Dottore sighed mock-defeatedly, rounding the workbench and making his way towards you.

“You are so terribly demanding,” he remarked. You glowered at him, arms folded, until his gloves fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your face upwards. Your eyes widened in shock as he came close enough for you to make out the detailing of his mask. “Just demanding enough for me to listen to you,” he murmured, lifting you glasses and setting them on the bridge of your nose. His grasp on your chin didn’t loosen, and he was incredibly thankful for his mask in that moment. It hid the way his eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards your lips. You stood there frozen from shock until your limbs regained the ability to move and you stepped away with a nervous mumble; “I should be going now.” Dottore watched you hurry away with a self-satisfied smirk.

Disconcerted by the Doctor’s behaviour, you didn’t notice Childe’s sleeping form sprawled in front of the laboratory door until you tripped over him. He jerked awake as you steadied yourself.

“Trixy!” Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he clambered up from the floor and instinctively grabbed onto you for support when he swayed a little on his feet. You did your best to support his much taller body with your own.

“Eleven? What are you doing here?” You asked, bewildered. He leaned heavily against your shoulder, stifling a yawn. His movements were oddly uncoordinated, you noticed.

“You promised you’d come to dinner and you didn’t.” He was practically pouting. It was almost cute, if you convinced yourself to forget that he was a Harbinger. “I was waiting for you!”

“Why in Teyvat”- with a grunt, you pushed him off you. “What possessed you, you buffoon? Dinner was six hours ago!”

“If you keep calling me names I won’t give you these chillies I brought from the kitchen.”

“Oh, Childe,” you murmured, dragging a hand down your face. “Are you sober?”

He giggled.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” you agreed, looping his arm over your shoulder. You could faintly smell the wine on him. Red, if your nose was accurate. “Move it,” you ordered, dragging him towards the stairs. He grumbled a protest, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You took off my coat.”

“The sleeves were too long,” you replied, carefully navigating the stairs with him in tow. Surprise, surprise, it was far from easy to descend a spiral staircase with an overgrown Harbinger who refused to look where he was going leaning against you. “Eleven, for Celestia’s sake.” You rapped your knuckles against his skull to get him to look up. “Raise your head and tell me where your bloody dorm is.”

“Trixyyy, don’t yell at me,” he whined into your neck.

“Focus, Eleven. You’re drunker than a single father on a Friday night and you need to rest. Now exert a little effort and tell me where your dorm is, or Archons help me I’ll leave you right here in the hallway.”

His incoherent mumbling echoed through the empty corridor, the palace eerily silent save for your footsteps and breathing. The foggy glow from the lamps glinting off the silver in the walls and throwing large shadows across the floor only added to the unnerving atmosphere, and you found yourself slowly getting nervous. With a muttered curse, you decided to drag him to your room instead. You knew where that was, at least.

It took entirely too long to reach the door to your room; Childe was not only ridiculously tall, but also heavy and resolutely uncooperative. You fumbled for your key with one hand while the other supported his limp body; after a moment of struggling with the chain at your belt you managed to get it unhooked and unlocked the door, dumping Childe onto the nearest armchair.

“Damn you,” you muttered.

“So mean,” he protested, staring up at you as you made your way to the bathroom. He really wasn’t that drunk; a little tipsy, sure, but he was definitely playing it up. If it got him an ounce of your attention then he’d gladly throw his dignity to the four winds, shameless as it was.

“Don’t move,” you instructed him with a stern look before disappearing into the bathroom. He heard rushing water and concluded you were probably getting rid of the mysterious blood stains all over your torso.

To your eternal horror, when you emerged from the bathroom La Signora was lounging in the other armchair by the fire smoking a pipe of some mysterious substance you were quite certain you’d smelled in the Jade Chamber before. Perhaps Lady Ningguang and La Signora had similar smoking habits.

“L-lady Eight?”

She turned slightly to shoot you a knowing, dangerous smile after darting a look loaded with meaning between you and Childe passed out drunk in the other armchair. You blushed scarlet from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearing your throat and towelling your hair dry.

“A pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“Is it really, little one?” She countered, surveying you with her one visible eye and taking a long drag from her pipe. “I seem to have come at a bad time.”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “Lord Eleven- well, I tripped over him while exiting the Doctor’s laboratory. He seems to be fairly… intoxicated.”

Signora hummed, resting her chin in her hand and tapping her manicured nails against her cheek as she watched you dry off your hair. No doubt you’d been preparing to go to sleep.

“Is there anything you require my assistance with, my lady?” You ventured.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied, calm and unhurried.  “Come here.”

You stepped towards her.

“Closer, little one.”

Another couple of steps.

“Perfect. Now…” She rose from the chair and held you by the shoulders, manoeuvring you into it instead. Setting the pipe aside, she bent over to scrutinise you thoughtfully, tilting your face to assess how you looked at different angles and in different lighting. Truly a work of art, she thought. You held your breath and sat as still as possible, your back ramrod straight.

“Lady Eight…?”

“You have nothing to wear for the gala. We’ll have to remedy that,” she murmured, tapping her finger on your cheek. You weren’t surprised that she knew the contents of your wardrobe in the slightest; the Fatui probably knew things even you didn’t know about yourself yet. (You were right).

“You’d look ravishing in red,” she mused.

“I’m sure your opinion on such matter is indispensable.”

“Quite right,” she agreed, moving away from you a little. “And my opinion is that we should dress you in red.”

“As my lady wishes.”

Childe had had quite enough of listening to Signora fawn over you, and chose that exact moment to get up and stride over.

“I think blue would be a better choice,” he interjected. You shot him a disbelieving look.

“You put on quite a convincing act of being unconscious, don’t you, my lord?”

Signora appraised him coolly. “Nonsense, Childe. Red.”

“Blue,” he argued, grazing his knuckles across your jaw. You shivered.

“Let us discuss this in the morning,” you suggested, moving to get up. Both Childe and Signora pushed you back down while glaring heatedly at each other. The air crackled with tension you could identify but not recognise; the two were clearly locked in some battle of wills.

“You should wear something blue, Trixy.”

“The gala is still months away-”

“Red is a much better choice. You agree, don’t you, little one?” Signora interjected, stroking your hair.

“Objectively speaking, it’s hardly relevant nor important what colour I wear,” you pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Signora said dismissively. “You’ll be the gem, the star of the gala. Of course it matters.”

Childe nodded, as much as he hated to agree with Signora. You massaged your temples.

“That’s simply not true. Lady Eight, you told me yourself this gala is an event reserved for the maintenance of the Fatui’s connections. My personal appearance doesn’t factor into the equation in any way, shape or form.”

“Maybe our enjoyment depends on you,” Childe said with a grin, taking your hand and brushing a kiss across your knuckles. Oh, Archons. He’s completely drunk. Utterly sloshed. You were beginning to feel a little cloistered with both of them hovering over you, making nonsensical claims and debating irrelevant points.

“Blue.”

“Red.”

“A coin toss in the morning will decide,” you announced firmly, rubbing your eyes. It was appallingly late, and you knew waking up for the Doctor’s seven am lab session was going to be an evil experience. You really weren’t keen on making it any worse because two Harbingers couldn’t hold back their egos over something as trifling as your outfit.

Of all the ways to establish superiority, why did they have to pick one that involves me?

“My lord, my lady, please allow me to see you out,” you continued, rising from where you were seated. Childe pouted.

“I’m drunk, Trixy. You have to nurse me back to health.”

Signora clicked her tongue derisively, and you mentally agreed with her. With a sigh, you rummaged through your medicine drawer for the tonic you’d concocted for hangovers. Though you weren’t a big drinker yourself, during your Akademiya years many of your friends indulged in the bad habit of drinking themselves half-blind (usually Kaveh and Dehya) and you didn’t have the patience to deal with their slurring words and careless behaviour. Hence your useful tonic. You shoved a vial of it at Childe.

“Drink this,” you ordered.

“What is it?”

“If you want to be ‘nursed back to health’ then drink what I give you without asking questions.”

He shrugged and knocked back the tiny vial in one fell swoop, grimacing as the bitter taste settled on his tongue.

“Is this poison?” He exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Signora rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you fool,” she said contemptuously. “The little one had the utter gal to poison you in front of a Harbinger. That’s absolutely what happened.”

He muttered a derisive comment or two under his breath while you tried to push him towards the door. When he didn’t budge an inch, your patience finally snapped.

“Damn it all, won’t you leave, both of you?! I have more important matters to concern myself with than an overgrown child and a tempestuous mistress!”

Stunned by your outburst, they both left without another complaint. Childe even uttered a ‘Sorry, Trixy…” as the door closed behind him. You locked the door, stomped over to the bed and went to sleep without even bothering to fully dry your hair.

You regretted that in the morning as you wrestled the unkempt, tangled strands into a semi-acceptable state. Panic prevailed; you didn’t have anything stored away to eat for breakfast, and a trip to the dining hall would definitely make you late. You cursed the Doctor to the lowest ring of hell, making a mad dash to grab a bite to eat anyway; it was his fault you woke up so late, keeping you in the lab until after midnight. You nearly crashed into Anya in the hallway in your haste, and you called out an apology that was quickly swallowed by the chatter of recruits and their footsteps. The dining hall had never seemed so far away, and you kept stealing glances at your pocket watch as you leaped down a full flight of stairs and all but tripped through the enormous doors, making a beeline towards the tables with the intention of wolfing down a leftover slice of pie at the very least. Damn it all. Even your precious morning tea was forgone in favour of scrambling back to the door and attempt to make it to the lab in time.

But you didn’t even make it to the door; a hand grabbed the back of your coat (Childe’s coat, really, that you’d thrown on in a fit of desperation) and yanked you away from the door.

“What”- you whirled around and were met by a rather familiar masked face inches from yours. The strange woman who you’d taken to calling ‘Arlie’ as a nickname. “Release me this instant, I’m late.”

She tsked, pulling you closer by your collar this time.

“Where have you been?”

You shot a desperate glance at your watch. In all fairness, her irritation could very well be justified; you often took dinner together and chatted over dessert at least every other day. Besides, the sheer authority she exuded was enough to make you feel rather guilty. You hadn’t been to the dining hall in nearly a week, surviving off jars of reheated soup and candied amakumo fruit. Clearly your presence was more impactful to Arlie than you’d thought (she thought it was rather obvious; going to the trouble of a disguise just to indulge in conversation with you should’ve been an adequate indicator).

“It’s been an awfully busy week, Arlie, I’m sorry,” you said hurriedly, licking a few crumbs from the pie’s crust off your fingertips. Much to her relief, her mask concealed the way her eyes immediately latched onto your mouth and tongue. The room felt a little hotter all of a sudden. “I really must be going, the Doctor will have my bones on a silver platter if I keep him waiting any longer.”

Arlie rolled her eyes. As if she’d let any harm come to her little pet, by the hand of Dottore or otherwise. Nevertheless, she released you.

“I’d like to see you at dinner today.” It was more of a warning than an invitation. You were too rushed to protest her patronising tone, and you rather enjoyed the meals you shared too.

“You will,” you promised, and then rushed out of the door towards the lab. She watched the white velvet of your coat disappear with a slight frown; now how could she get you to stop wearing that fool’s clothes?

 

The door to the laboratory was hanging ajar. Thoroughly unusual, but you were fifteen minutes late by then and a lapse in the Doctor’s obsessively maintained habits took a backseat. You stepped into the lab with as much dignity as you could muster, determined not to look guilty; everyone was late now and then, the Doctor could bloody well suck it up-

A pair of hands grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you the rest of the way into the lab, shaking you vigorously. With an irritated, surprised yell, you tried to shove away the assailant, and when that didn’t work you resorted to your trusty glare.

Oh. The man looked remarkably like the Doctor. The same curly, silver-blue hair and stubborn set to his jaw. And the same curve to his top lip.

The jarring similarities made you pause and scrutinise the man a little more closely.

“Who are you?” You asked bluntly, frowning as you tried to remember if the Doctor ever mentioned having siblings. You could hear more voices coming from further inside; tiptoeing, you caught sight of several more Dottore-like people. So definitely not siblings, then. The not-Doctor tsked, then shook you hard again to regain your attention. “Who are all of these people? Why do you all look like the Doctor?”

At the sound of your voice, all the Dottore clones went scampering away through exits you hadn’t even known existed.

“Where were you, you disagreeable fool?”

You stared up at the clone who still hadn’t let go of you.

“I’d like an explanation as to why there are apparently multiple copies of my supervisor.”

“You’re every bit as nosy as Prime said…” he muttered.

“And who, pray tell, is Prime? Is that some sort of a code name for my Doctor?”

“Quite right,” a familiar, drawling voice responded. The clone tensed up then hurried off, leaving you off-balance and stumbling. “You are late. Inexcusably so,” the Doctor said, watching you steady yourself.

“Why are there seven clones of you?”

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  

[aemnds]

─ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓.

❛ ♡. gif credit.

★ ── modern!aemond comes home early to surprise his little wife.

◜ ♡ ⃗ ⎯⎯ [3:41 pm — aemond targaryen]

she had just finished cutting the strawberry, crème sandwiches into diagonal slices as the front door opened— revealing her beloved husband, aemond targaryen.

smiling, she hurried over to him, helping him remove his long, leather jacket, before bending down to untie and remove his black, combat boots.

once she placed both things neatly away, she returned to her patiently waiting husband and reached up on the tips of her bare, pedicured toes—which were painted pale, baby pink—and kissed his soft, pillowy lips -- humming at the minty flavor he always seemed to taste of.

“hello, my love,” she greeted him softly, after pulling away from him to continue preparing his lunch. she hummed softly as she worked, grabbing a handful of salted almonds and placing them into a tiny container for later to snack on.

aemond hummed, walking up behind her and wrapping his long, lean arms around her— pulling her back slightly so that she was snuggly pressed back against his hard, front torso— making her smile with happiness.

“my love, i need to finish preparing your lunch,” she says with a light giggle, feeling him bend down and press multiple kisses along the sides of her neck and collarbones, where he knew she was most sensitive.

“i’ve missed you,” he murmured, nearly whining as he lightly scraped his teeth against her thumping pulse point, before beginning to suck on her earlobe, humming in content at the delicious taste of her soft, silky skin.

she made a giggling sound, trying to pull away as she finished cutting a few slices of apple—without the skins—just as aemond preferred, before turning around to face him.

he towered over her, a small smirk on his lips as he bent his knees down to press his lips to hers, wrapping his strong arms around her waist tightly— possessively.

“hm.. my pretty, little wife— you are truly perfection,” he says lowly, before pressing his lips back against hers, moaning at the sweet, honeyed taste of her -- his tongue slipping inside of her warm, wet mouth.

“gods,” aemond groaned into the kiss, hearing her whimper and try to kiss him back with the same intensity as he was kissing her. “i am so lucky to have you— my sweet girl, my only love,” he tells her, his voice boarding on obsessive.

“i love you, i love you, i love you— you’re mine, all fucking mine… say it,” he demands, voice deep and nearly begging—gods, if aegon ever found out that he spoke to his wife this way, he’d call him a fucking simp and never hear the end of it.

she giggles femininely, flashing him a pretty, lovesick smile as she was so used to her husband’s possessive behavior over her, “i love you, aemond— i am yours,” she purrs, fluttering her eyelashes up at him innocently -- like a sweet, little virgin.

aemond smirked, leaning around her and swiping a long finger behind her into the homemade whipped cream she had made, pulling it back and sucking the sweetness into his watering mouth, a soft hum escaping him— tasting the sweet aroma of vanilla extract.

“delicious,” he purred, smirking down at her -- before he swiped another finger into the whipped cream, holding out his long, calloused finger near her plush, pink lips to give her a taste.

she gave him a look of surprise, raising an eyebrow at his teasing grin as she wrapped her lips around his finger, sucking the whipped cream off of his digit with a soft, breathy moan.

“and to think… you’ve made my favorite strawberry sandwiches too,” he says conversationally, his voice deep and husky as he looked down at her with a dilated, amethyst eye -- which was burning with desire.

“i have an idea,” aemond announces suddenly, watching his wife hungrily suck on his index finger, his eye darkening with lust.

aemond suddenly pulled his finger away, running the long, calloused fingers of his right hand over his wife’s exposed shoulder as he pressed her back more firmly against the large, kitchen countertop that he had built for her out of marble.

she gave him a curious look, doe eyes blinking up at him innocently and pink lips slightly parted in question. “yes, my love?” she asks him sweetly, her voice high-pitched and as sweet as the whipped cream she had made just for him.

aemond let out a soft sigh, letting his calloused fingertips brush down and over the thin, pink tank-top, admiring the little white flowers decorating the thin material that covered her perky breasts— her nipples hardening as he moved down closer and closer -- before tweaking a nipple between his long, deft fingertips.

he heard her gasp softly, her back arching into him and her heavy eyelids fluttering with lust, her cunt becoming more and more wet the more time he paid attention to her.

…he drove her absolutely wild.

aemond hummed lowly, giving a nod, “how about we put this delicious lunch away for later that you’ve made for me… oh, so lovingly— and how about i eat you instead, hm?” he murmured softly, though there was a hint of darkness to his voice as he began to grind his hardening cock into her lower belly, making her whimper pathetically for him.

she gasped softly, doe eyes wide and blinking repeatedly, before nodding eagerly in agreement, already starting to put the lunch away for later consumption for when they were both hungry after their… activities.

aemond happily trailed after his little wife, watching as she placed the food away neatly in the refrigerator -- the front of his hard, clothed torso pressed firmly against her back.

he started pressing ravenous kisses down the right side of her delicate neck once again— enjoying the sight of the purple blemishes he’d made last night -- while sucking and biting the smooth skin as if his wife was a sweet, forbidden fruit made specifically for him.

she knew how aemond could get -- her husband could become nearly frenzied— practically a beast when it came to her, and it seemed she was in for a long afternoon of orgasm after orgasm, as he whispered hotly that he wished for nothing more than to feast on her sweet, little cunt.

[mistatsunrise]

Shards of Loyalty

Amidst the shadows of betrayal and loyalty, one rebel medic must navigate fractured bonds in the heart of the Empire's darkness.

Fandom: Star Wars, The Bad Batch

Pairing: Wolffe x Reader

Content: Angst as the reader briefly reunites with Wolffe on Teth

Warnings: Spoilers for TBB S3ep06+07

Word Count: 2,978

A/N: I watched the episode, cried, then spent all my time writing this. Also, I couldn't help but have Gregor simp for the reader in this one. Art in divider is by lornaka.

Sitting around the grey flexsteel table, laughter danced around you, as soft giggles spilled from your lips. Your eyes closed briefly as your cheeks rose, a toothy grin wide across your face in a way that made each corner hurt. Across from you was the other source of joyful sounds, in his worn, white plastoid commando armour. His features were spread into a similar grin, crow's feet crinkled about his chestnut brown eyes that glinted in the artificial light of the ship’s interior, and the worn lines upon his tan skin stretched about his smile. A small, stray strand on his dark, slicked-back hair had fallen out of place, which he brushed back into place with a quick swipe of his gloved hand.

As you calmed your laughs, you shifted your hand to take hold of your cup of caf that sat on the table in front of you, the earthy smell of it curling in your nose as you inhaled. Before taking a sip of it, you tilted your head towards the clone opposite you as he rubbed the side of his face, trying to calm his laughter that was greater than yours.

“As soon as we land, I’m going to go get Nemec to confirm that, Gregor,” you teased him softly, to which the clone burst into another bout of laughter.

“You don’t trust me?” Gregor cooed as his laughs subsided again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. It wasn’t serious though, the lop-sided smirk on his face making it evident.

You rolled your eyes softly, placing your hand around the warm cup and lifting it to take a sip. The caf inside tasted too dry and was bitter on your tongue. Yet, you focused on Gregor, paying the poor taste of the caf little mind. “That mission was wild, I need to hear Nemec’s account. I believe you… but, maker, I need to hear more.”

Gregor chuckled softly at that, raising his cup of caf to his lips as you spoke. Yet, you noticed his dark chestnut hues shift from looking at you, moving to looking at the stairs towards the cockpit. The heavy sound of metal prosthetic legs, slightly muted by boots, traveled down to the table. In the doorway, Echo emerged, his pallid features holding a sense of alarm. He cut to the chase, his caramel eyes settling upon both you and Gregor as he spoke.

“Rex commed. Imperials have discovered the base at the spire. They need extracting, ASAP. We’re about five parsecs away.”

You flicked your eyes back to Gregor, whose dark eyes had now hardened with solemnity. There was an unspoken understanding between you three. Your voice vocalized before you even registered it, holding an almost emotionless tone to it.

“Affirmative.”

You pushed yourself from your chair as Gregor simultaneously stood. You all knew what needed to be done, no orders were needed. That’s how this little group of rebels worked, efficiently like a well-oiled droid; not like the Separatist clankers, but like the whirring of a reliable R-series astromech.

Gregor shifted past you on your right, raising a hand to place gently on your shoulder. His digits gave a gentle, but brief squeeze before departing, a small gesture of reassurance. It was all you needed to push yourself forward, to walk down the familiar corridors of the ship towards the medbay.

Once in the dark room, surrounded by dim blue hues and softly blinking lights of green, red, white, and blue, you didn’t need to turn on the main light to navigate about; you knew this place like the back of your hand. You had transitioned from a medcenter medic to a field medic for the clone rebels, and this place was now as close to a home as you could probably get. You missed your life before, at the medcenter, but here, in this dim room, it was easy to put away the memories, the good and the bad, and be enveloped in the blanket of shadows and low light.

As you sought for your medical bag, fingers grazing against the embroidered section of the fabric, a memory surfaced.

“It’s a gift, for helping with… well, everything.”

Wolffe’s voice echoed in your mind as if he was there. He’d stood before you, a small bundle in his outstretched hand. It was wrapped rather poorly, the edges of the paper coming unfolded as it sat there, as if the commander either hadn’t bothered to find an adhesive, or he simply couldn’t find one. It seemed too awkward for him, in a way, and that was coming from the person who’d been there for… well, everything. At least from the moment he’d arrived, fresh red scar and painfully burnt eye from a lightsaber wound. There had certainly been some awkward moments in his recovery, but somehow, it was not as awkward as this moment. Perhaps, because for once, Wolffe was the one giving, and neither of you was used to it. You’d taken the gift, fingers pulling at the paper to unveil an embroidered patch in the middle, the symbol of the Wolfpack in the middle. “I want you to be an honorary member of the Wolfpack,” Wolffe had explained, still rather awkwardly. At the time, you didn’t know why, but when you went home, to sew the patch to your medpack bag, you’d found his comm details written in the paper wrapping too. That moment felt like a lifetime ago. All memories of Wolffe did. You had been so close. So close, that you’d almost admitted to him that you loved him. But that never came to pass. The world as you knew it shattered, and you had to rebuild. The medbay you currently knelt in was a testament to that.

A sigh, heavy and warped with longing, passed from your lips, falling into the air of the dark room. You had to focus; Rex, Nemec, Fireball, and Howzer were relying on you for the extraction, and you needed to be ready in case anyone was harmed… which was inevitable. Hopefully, all injuries would be minor. Pushing the past where it belonged, in the past and away from your conscious thought, you grabbed the medpack, pulling the straps over your shoulders. No time to dawdle. You stood straight, pack weighing on your shoulders, and you navigated the hallways the way you had just walked, back to the mess room, and then further, up the stairs to the cockpit.

At the very front was Echo, facing ahead as the blue streaks of light shot by like endless blaster bolts. A few seats back sat Gregor, leaning forward with arms crossed over his knees. Both sat in silence; apprehension hung in the air, the deep breath before plunging into conflict, something both clones were used to. You certainly weren’t, yet you were not one to let the unease overwhelm you. Taking a few steps forward, you plant yourself in the leather of the chair opposite Gregor, your voice cutting through the silence.

“How long until we get there?”

Echo tilted his head back slightly, the caramel hues of his irises glinting in the light of hyperspace, coming in from the viewports. “Another couple of minutes. Rex and the boys will need to hold on until then.”

Gregor’s voice quickly cut in after Echo finished his sentence, drawing your attention to him. He’d swiveled his chair to face you, having grabbed something from the small side sill at the edge of the cockpit. “Here, take this blaster,” Gregor extended his hand out, holding a DC-17 hand blaster to you. “Not sure if we’ll have to fight. Be safe than sorry.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, momentarily going higher pitch before lowering to his usual pitch. After the voice cracks, a small burst of nervous laughter escaped the clone. It was not long ago that you and Gregor shared humorous laughter, and now all that joy had dissipated. You leaned forward, outstretching your arm to take the blaster from Gregor’s hand. Your fingers curled around the weapon and softly brushed Gregor’s hand, warm still through the gloves. As you pulled the blaster back to rest on your lap, Gregor offered you a small, yet warm smile, sincerity glinting in his eyes, wordlessly telling you not to worry.

At the console, Echo moved to pull the ship out of hyperspace. The streaking lights of passing stars shortened, congealing into pin-prick dots of light. Outside the transparisteel before you, the looming, dark shape of Teth emerged. As you got closer, you spied a bright white light at the location, and Echo deftly moved to send an alert to Rex that you were inbound. Gregor stood, leaning over one of the chairs closer to the console, and so you joined him, to get a better look at the scene. You saw a line of Imperial soldiers - you couldn’t quite make out their armor from here. Huddled before them, alert yet holding fire was Rex and the others… A glance over them showed you easily that some were missing - who you didn’t know. Blasted Imperials, you always lost good clones to them. What surprised you was that they didn’t try anything against the ship.

You pushed yourself to stand from your chair, and Gregor nodded to you, standing up straight himself. Echo swung the ship around for easy access to Rex and the others, and quickly you and Gregor sprinted down the halls towards the door. You gripped the blaster tight in your hand. If it came to blows, you were ready to take down a few of the Empire’s men in exchange for the missing troopers. With a swoosh, the door lowered, spilling white light from your ship against the bright spotlights of the Imperial ship. Before you stood the shadowy figures of both your men and the Imperials. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust upon those who stood there. You looked to your troopers first - only Rex and Howzer remained, the rest were the Bad Batch, with their child and pet. Nemec… Fireball… Both of them were gone.

Anger surged through you, and you raised your gaze to glare at the leader of the Imperial troopers, intent on giving him the most venomous stare you could muster. Yet, as the details of the man were revealed to you, a crack suddenly shattered your heart in half. The blaster in your hand fell slack as you just stared… The one behind this, who’d allowed the deaths of Nemec, Fireball, and the others, was none other than the man you loved. Wolffe.

Beside him, the clone commando eased forward slightly, yet Wolffe raised his arm to tell the trooper, his voice quiet yet rumbling in a commanding tone, “Stand down.” You just about heard it, although his actions spoke louder than his words at that moment. He was going to let you all go, despite likely being ordered to take down your group. Before you, Rex nodded his head with respect for the commander. They were brothers, and loyal to each other even if they fought on opposite sides. That loyalty gave you hope, sparking up inside your chest where the ruins of your heart now lay cracked, perhaps to mend and bond that wound taken to it.

The Bad Batch, followed by Howzer, moved quickly back up to the ship, and Rex himself turned his back to Wolffe. With them, everything had been said and done, but you… You didn’t quite understand. Wolffe was disobeying the Empire at this moment, but he appeared to still be staying with them. You stepped forward down the ramp, brushing past the lanky figure of Crosshair, onto the rocky ground below. Wolffe’s gaze shifted from the turning figure of Rex towards where you stepped, pushing past those retreating in an almost defiant manner. Your eyes met, and the firm expression of the Commander shifted. His eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting softly; his left, natural eye with its caramel hues seemed vulnerable at that moment. Standing opposed to his brothers was different from standing opposed to the person he’d loved. Looking at him, you saw that too awkward stance again, echoing the past when he first truly opened up to you. There was hope, yet this was not a moment, or even such a thing, to be easily navigated. Not with the troopers at Wolffe’s back, and the Empire too. Not with your ship, your group of rebels about to depart. It wasn’t even as easy as giving commlink details on a crumpled piece of paper.

Rex’s hand met your shoulder as he stopped by you. It was hard to break away from Wolffe’s gaze, but you did. The look on Rex’s face told you everything you needed to know. That pair of amber eyes showed understanding, but an urgency, that nothing could be done now, and it was time to move on. You nodded your head slightly, your gaze meeting Wolffe’s, which had shifted to a more guarded look. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his singular natural eye, but his cybernetic one seemed dull and void. All you could do was offer the commander a nod, not unlike the one that had been shared with Rex, but this one told him that you’d be back, and that you’d both be able to reunite someday. Rex’s hand slipped from your shoulder, and with that, you too turned around. The captain allowed you to slip ahead of him so that he could secure safety as you finished boarding.

The steps onto the ship were hard, but you knew that this was not the last time you would see Wolffe. You did not dare look back, for if you did, you feared you’d lose your composure. Yet, thankfully, as you stepped back onto the firm flooring of the ship, you were surrounded by the clones that had supported you during this new reign of the Empire; Rex at your back, Gregor at your side, and Howzer at the front. The ramp raised and the door swooshed shut, leaving you standing there. The Bad Batch lingered around you too, and in that moment, you wished for them to be gone, to leave you with the ones you trusted, but you knew Echo would scold you for that, as they were his squad too. The conflict was evident on your face, it must be, because the pet of the Bad Batch snuffled its nose and came up to you, sniffing at you and rubbing against your legs in a friendly way. The child smiled at you, “Batcher’s just saying hi, don’t worry.” She seemed to have mistaken your expression for a reaction to the animal. It eased your mind a little, and you gave the kid a smile in response.

Rex shifted, stepping around you, and he headed over to the doorway that led to the corridor through the ship, “Come on, let’s settle down and… well… that was a lot. We all need some rest.” The largest clone in the Bad Batch, Wrecker, heartily agreed, followed by the child, then Hunter and the slinking Crosshair. There was no use in lingering here yourself, so you made your way down the corridor after them. In that walk, you realized that you felt as though part of you was missing, like there was a hole in your heart. It seemed that when it cracked when you saw Wolffe with the Empire, a part of it fell and was now left with him. You really would have to go back for it.

Once the ship was traveling at hyperspeed once more, and the Bad Batch was settled down in the cockpit with Echo, you found yourself sitting around that same table you’d been sitting at with Gregor before this all occurred. This time, you sat right next to Gregor, instead of opposite him, and Howzer sat in the chair you had occupied. Rex was standing to the side, stirring some sweetener into his cup of caf. Surrounded by your little mismatched squad, you finally felt able to breathe and to speak. Letting out a sigh, you voiced that which you’d been dying to say since you saw the commander. “I can’t believe Wolffe sided with the Empire.” Gregor shifted slightly, wordlessly putting a hand on your shoulder. These few clones were the ones that knew about your connection to Wolffe, so you felt safe to speak of it here.

Rex turned his head slightly, looking at you with his amber gaze, holding sincerity within it. “Wolffe doesn’t seem to know everything the Empire’s done. He’s likely still under the influence of the chip. But, like with all of us, he did show signs of resistance.”

Howzer added to Rex’s comment, shoving a thumb in the direction of the cockpit, “If Crosshair can be redeemed, then Commander Wolffe can too. That clone showed that he truly had changed today… and I still almost find it hard to believe, even though I saw it with my own eyes. If that can be done, then getting Wolffe to see sense would be like a sandstorm on Geonosis - inevitable.”

The missing clones from your gathering came to mind though, and you frowned, “But… Fireball… Nemec… Wolffe didn’t-”

“Actually,” Rex cut you off, “They were firing at us with stun rounds. There was one of those shadow troopers after us… That was who got Fireball and Nemec. Wolffe’s men appeared to be ordered to take us down with stun rounds.”

You exhaled softly. Wolffe was still loyal to his brothers, even those who fought against him, that was clear. There was no reason to lose hope, even under the dark rule of the Empire. It gave you purpose too; to keep fighting until Wolffe was finally by your side once more.

Thanks for reading!

[klausysworld]

you can do a one-shot for human yandere klaus mikaelson from the 21st century, where he is a university professor and has a crush on his student and/or even though she doesn't know it, klaus just admires her from a distance and is a simp to her, he He always makes sure to give her the best grades even though sometimes she doesn't deserve them, because Klaus believes that she should have the best.

(HIS LIPS IN THIS PHOTO!?)

His Favourite

Y/n was a beautiful and sweet girl, she was always polite to her professors despite the fact that her friends weren't the greatest influence. She always tried in her lessons even if she wasn't the brightest and sometimes she got a little distracted but Klaus didn't mind. It was normal for students to lose focus, to fall behind sometimes, sure they usually got punished for it but he didn't want to give Y/n a negative experience in his classes.

Klaus often looked to her when he was speaking, checking she was paying attention and taking notes. Sometimes she would catch his gaze and smile back at him so he knew she was listening.

Mr. Mikaelson was hands down the hottest professor going, so many of his students had a thing for him. They'd purposefully misbehave with the hopes of being in detention with him but more often than not he had a different member of staff keep an eye over them so he didn't have to endure their embarrassing attempts at flirting.

He was always dressed well and smelt wonderful, it was so easy to want him. Students would watch him get into his clean, expensive car and joke about following him home. Klaus wasn't oblivious to any of these things, all it really did was boost his ego.

Really it gave him hope that maybe Y/n would be one of those lovestruck girls. He thought maybe she wore those pretty little skirts for him, nibbled on the end of her pencil for his benefit and let the lace of her bra peek over her low v-necks for him to admire. He ached to feel her soft skin, to feel her warmth.

Often when he passed her a paper he would let his fingers graze her hand, he would always come stand over by her at some point during an assessment to feel close to her. Sometimes he would crouch down and read out the extract and questions for her, he would see how close he could get his lips to her ear before a shiver ran down her spine.

And no matter how much she struggled in the test, he always made sure she got a good grade.

He could remember finding her crying in the halls once because she had been failing her other course, he never wanted to put her in that position. She never deserved to feel anything but her best.

Klaus had looked through files on Y/n, he wanted to know her. He found that she was in debt on her canteen card and so made sure to put enough money on to last her a lifetime of unlimited meals. Sometimes he would see her go without so much as a carrot stick and he would grow worried.

Sometimes he held her back at the end of lessons, she would start to apologise for not understanding a question but he would always shake his head with a gentle smile

"No no my dear, it's not that" he told her, his heart warming when she visibly relaxed "I just wanted to make sure everything was okay? You've been quiet in my lessons" he placed a hand on her arm but she took no notice of it as she gave a small smile

"I'm okay" she whispered and he sighed

"It would be alright if you weren't, Y/n." he convinced and she nodded, glancing to the closed door which she knew her friends were waiting behind. He noticed the distraction and sighed "You can go to lunch if you like" he murmured and she fiddled with her fingers "I'm sure you're hungry, hm?" he smiled and she reciprocated it.

"Yes, thank you, sir" she whispered, heading back out the room, unaware that he would be replaying those words over and over in his head later that day.

He thought about her far too much, obsessed over her in his mind. He dreamt of her each night and daydreamed between lessons. All he wanted was to take her far far away and take care of every little thing for her. If it were done to him, she would never have to work a day in her life. She would not need for anything and anything she should wan't she would get.

But he knew he couldn't do that. So for now at least, he would just ensure she was as happy as she could be and doing as well as possible. She deserved any opportunity she desired and he would ensure she received them.