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odileeclipse · 3 months ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 2

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Shadow Milk Cookie settled into the seat beside you with an air of quiet amusement, his presence both grounding and unnerving. Up close, the details of his mismatched gaze became all the more striking, the eerie glow of his cerulean and gold eyes holding an intensity that seemed to peel back layers of pretense. It wasn’t just that he saw it felt as though he understood, as though he could pluck your scattered thoughts straight from the air and weave them into something coherent. “Let us begin,” he said, his voice smooth yet commanding. You swallowed hard, your parchment still a mess of ink-stained errors, a battlefield of numbers and theories that refused to align. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced at it, his expression unreadable as he took in the frantic scrawls. Rather than offering immediate critique, he his finger along the parchment’s edge, eyes flickering back toward you. “You are thinking too rigidly,” he observed. “You attempt to fit the answer into a predefined shape rather than allowing the concept to form naturally.” You blinked. “I… don’t understand.” Professor Almond Custard Cookie leaned against his desk, watching the exchange with wary interest. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he murmured under his breath.

Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing. “Knowledge is not meant to be forcefully contained. It must be understood, internalized. Here, allow me to demonstrate.” With an effortless movement, he reached for a fresh parchment and quill, his elegant script forming a diagram an intricate illustration of magical resonance fields under celestial influence. His explanations came in measured, deliberate tones, never rushing, never expecting you to grasp concepts immediately. “You view mana stabilization as a fixed equation,” he continued, tapping a specific point on the diagram. “But it is, in truth, a dynamic balance. Think of it like… breathing. Inhaling, exhaling. Expansion, contraction. There is rhythm. A natural cadence.” You hesitated, processing his words. No scholar had ever explained it that way before. Everything up until now had been rigid formulas, memorization, the pressure to solve rather than to understand. Shadow Milk Cookie was asking you to feel the answer, not just recite it.

Tentatively, you reached for your quill, mirroring the motions he had drawn. Your lines were shakier, less confident, but as you followed his guidance, the equation began to make sense in a way it never had before. Professor Almond Custard Cookie, arms crossed, let out a thoughtful hum. “I must admit, that’s… an unusual approach.” Shadow Milk Cookie merely smiled. “Truth is rarely found in convention alone.” For the first time in weeks, the weight pressing on your chest eased. You weren’t miraculously enlightened, nor had you suddenly mastered the subject but for the first time, you felt like you were on the right path. “Shall we continue?” the Sage of Truth prompted, tilting his head ever so slightly. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself, then nodded. “Yes.”

Shadow Milk Cookie…no, the Sage of Truth sat with a composed patience that made your nerves tangle further. Even as you hesitated, he remained steadfast, his gaze unwavering, expectant yet unpressuring. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, not in suffocation, but in silent encouragement. There was no condescension, no mockery just pure, unwavering certainty that you would learn. That you could learn. You gripped the edges of your parchment tighter, struggling to find where to even begin. Your thoughts swirled like ink spilled over a page, spreading outward in a chaotic mess. The Principle of Arcane Equilibrium. Lunar mana stabilization. Celestial harmonics. You had seen these terms in your notes, had copied them from the board, but the meaning behind them remained just out of reach. The Sage of Truth leaned forward slightly, steepling his fingers. “Let us begin at the foundation,” he said smoothly. “Tell me, what do you understand about arcane resonance?”

You swallowed, feeling your professor’s eyes on you as well. It was a simple question. One you should be able to answer. And yet, your thoughts stumbled, grasping at fragmented knowledge that refused to piece itself together. “I-It has to do with mana flow,” you started hesitantly, shifting in your seat. “How it interacts with… external forces?” You winced at how uncertain you sounded. Shadow Milk Cookie did not look disappointed. If anything, he looked intrigued. “A fair starting point,” he mused. “However, ‘interacts with external forces’ is far too vague. Be specific what forces? How do they affect mana flow?” You floundered, scanning your notes for an answer, but all you saw were half-finished scribbles and hastily written corrections. “I-” The words caught in your throat. Professor Almond Custard Cookie sighed heavily. “(Y/N) Cookie…” His tone was weary, but Shadow Milk Cookie merely raised a hand, silencing him. “I see now,” the Sage of Truth murmured, tilting his head slightly as if you were a puzzle to be examined. “It is not ignorance that holds you back. It is hesitation.” You blinked. “Hesitation?” “You grasp at knowledge but do not claim it.” He tapped a gloved finger against the wooden desk. “You doubt yourself the moment you speak. You are afraid of being wrong, and in that fear, you deny yourself the chance to be right.”

Your breath caught in your throat. How… how had he seen through you so easily? Your professor had pointed out your struggles before, but never quite like this. Never so precisely. Shadow Milk Cookie continued, his voice calm but firm. “Truth is not found in perfect answers, but in the willingness to seek them. Even in error, there is progress.” His heterochromatic gaze bore into you, gentle yet inescapable. “Do you truly wish to learn?” You clenched your hands into fists. “Of course, I do,” you said, the words leaving you with more force than intended. His lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Then let us move forward.” He gestured toward your notes. “Forget perfection. Forget your fear of being incorrect. Simply tell me what you think the answer is?” Your throat felt dry. Your mind raced with possibilities, most of which you were certain were wrong. But his words echoed in your head. Truth is not found in perfect answers, but in the willingness to seek them.

You inhaled slowly. “Mana flow is affected by celestial cycles… The lunar phases alter the frequency of arcane resonance, which means…” You paused, daring to glance up at him. He nodded, encouraging you to continue. “…which means that during a lunar eclipse, the lack of direct celestial influence causes the mana field to destabilize. So, to stabilize it… you’d need to use a principle that counteracts that absence.” Your voice wavered, uncertainty gnawing at you. “Is that… the Principle of Arcane Equilibrium?” For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Shadow Milk Cookie’s smile widened ever so slightly. “Now that,” he said, his voice brimming with approval, “was a well-reasoned answer.” Your breath left you in a sharp exhale. He wasn’t dismissing you. He wasn’t telling you that you were wrong outright. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had strung together a response that held weight. That held potential.

Professor Almond Custard Cookie let out a soft huff, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I say the same thing for weeks, and yet he gets through to you in a single conversation.” You flushed. “I-It’s not that I wasn’t listening to you!” You could only feel the pit in your stomach growing…maybe not speaking was better. Every word spoken felt like one more dig at your grave…you practically had one foot in. Your professor merely waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not offended. Frankly, if it takes the Sage of Truth himself to make you finally push past that mental block, so be it.” He shot Shadow Milk Cookie a look. “You’re stuck with them now.” You stiffened. “W-Wait” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled. “Ah, how fortunate.” His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “It seems our discussions have only just begun.” Your stomach twisted. This was going to be a very, very long mentorship.

The weight of the evening’s lesson still pressed heavily upon you as you finally stepped out of your professor's office, your parchment clutched tightly in your hands. The cold evening air of Blueberry Yogurt Academy greeted you with a sharp breeze, carrying the faint scent of parchment, melted wax, and the lingering traces of magical incense from the hallways. You exhaled, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. You had survived. Somehow. Behind you, Professor Almond Custard Cookie remained in his office, no doubt relieved to finally have a moment’s peace. You could still hear his parting words in your head "You’re making progress. Keep at it." though his voice had been tinged with exasperation. Whether he truly believed you were improving or if he was merely grateful to have you off his hands for the night, you weren’t sure. What you were sure of, however, was that walking back to your dorm in the dimly lit corridors of the Academy gave you far too much time to reflect on the night’s events. Your thoughts circled around your earlier conversation, looping in a relentless spiral.

"You doubt yourself the moment you speak."

"Truth is not found in perfect answers, but in the willingness to seek them."

"Do you truly wish to learn?"

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around your notes. The Sage of Truth no, Shadow Milk Cookie had spoken to you as if your struggles were not a burden, but a simple step in the process of learning. As if you were not lesser for failing. He had made it sound so obvious, as if understanding should be as natural as breathing. And yet, even now, you weren’t sure if you believed it. Your footsteps echoed softly against the ancient stone floors as you turned the corner toward the dormitories. The corridors of Blueberry Yogurt Academy were eerily beautiful at this hour, bathed in the pale glow of enchanted lanterns that floated gently overhead. The stained glass windows, depicting past scholars and grand celestial phenomena, cast fragmented reflections against the polished floors. The halls were nearly empty, save for the occasional scholar or staff member drifting by, their murmured discussions fading into the night. Then, you noticed him. A few steps ahead, walking in the same direction as you, was Shadow Milk Cookie. You froze mid-step.

His long robes, embroidered with ancient sigils and lined with deep celestial blues, trailed elegantly behind him. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated his features sharp yet composed, his heterochromatic gaze focused forward in quiet contemplation. There was an effortless grace to his stride, a presence that commanded both reverence and curiosity. He walked like one who belonged in the halls of academia, as if knowledge itself guided his every step. You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. It was one thing to sit across from him in a study session, where his attention had been directed solely at you. That alone had been overwhelming. But now, watching him in his element, unbothered by the presence of others, was something else entirely. He was a legend within the Academy. A beacon of intellect, respected by scholars far beyond these halls. Countless students, yourself included, had looked up to him, studied his theories, marveled at the sheer depth of his understanding. He was a figure so revered that it seemed almost unnatural to see him doing something as mundane as simply… walking back to his quarters.

You barely realized you had slowed your pace, allowing more distance between you. The last thing you wanted was to seem as if you were following him. Unfortunately, it seemed he had already noticed your presence. "You need not linger in the shadows, you know," he mused, his voice smooth, carrying just enough amusement to make your stomach twist. You nearly tripped over your own feet. "I wasn’t!" He stopped, turning slightly to glance at you, and you felt yourself shrink under the weight of his gaze. There was no judgment in his expression, only quiet interest. "Our paths align, it seems," he continued, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Surely, there is no harm in walking together?" There was a simple logic to his words. A logic that did little to calm your nerves. Your hands tightened around your parchment as you forced yourself to nod. "O-Of course not," you managed to say, though the words felt clumsy on your tongue. He resumed his pace, and you hesitantly stepped forward to match it, though you kept a respectable distance between you.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, save for the sound of your footsteps echoing against the stone. You risked a glance at him, taking in the way his gaze remained steady, lost in thought. Even in stillness, there was an air of quiet brilliance about him an unshakable confidence in the way he carried himself. You wondered, not for the first time, what it must be like to think as he did. To see the world through his eyes, where every fragment of knowledge seemed to fall perfectly into place. …How had someone like him ended up offering to help someone like you? Right…Because the professor insisted so. You imagine it’s because he was at his wits end with you. The thought made your stomach churn. "You are quiet," Shadow Milk Cookie observed, not unkindly. "Is your mind burdened by today’s lesson?" You flinched. "I…Um- No! I mean- Yes? I mean…" You let out a quiet groan, rubbing your temple. "I just… I still don’t understand why you would bother." He stopped walking. You barely had time to react before his gaze was on you once more, sharper now, as if you had just presented him with a particularly intriguing puzzle. "Why wouldn’t I?" he asked simply. You stared at him. "Because you’re you." The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but they were true. He was him. A scholar unlike any other. The Sage of Truth. A role model to so many. And you were… you. He regarded you for a long moment. Then, to your utter disbelief, he chuckled. It was a soft sound, quiet yet unmistakably amused. "Ah," he mused, shaking his head. "You place me upon a pedestal so high that you fail to see the truth, even when it stands before you." You stiffened. "What truth?" "That I am merely a scholar, much like yourself." He stepped forward slightly, and you felt your breath catch. "I seek understanding. I seek knowledge. And I seek to share that knowledge, just as those before me have done. That is all." You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away. "You believe I stand beyond your reach," he continued, his voice quieter now. "But tell me… Is that not an illusion of your own making?" The words settled deep within you, leaving you momentarily speechless. He did not wait for an answer. Instead, he resumed walking, as if his statement had been nothing more than a passing remark. You, however, were left rooted in place, your thoughts spinning wildly. Was it truly an illusion? Or had you simply convinced yourself that it was?

You hesitated for a long moment, his words lingering in your mind like an unsolved equation.

"Is that not an illusion of your own making?"

Something about the way he had said it so effortlessly, so assuredly made you feel as though you had been caught in the act of deceiving yourself. As if the way you saw him, the way you saw yourself, was nothing more than a fragile illusion you had crafted without realizing it. And yet… You gripped your parchment a little tighter, your steps quickening until you fell into pace beside him once more. "If…" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to speak. "If illusions are so easily made, then… isn’t truth an illusion in itself?" For the first time since the conversation had begun, Shadow Milk Cookie stopped walking entirely. You nearly stumbled forward from the suddenness of it, but when you turned to face him, his expression had shifted. Gone was the amused scholar indulging in a casual discussion. In his place stood the Sage of Truth, eyes gleaming with something deeper something unreadable. Slowly, he turned to face you fully. "An illusion…?" he echoed, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. Your throat tightened. Perhaps you had spoken too boldly, questioning something so fundamental to him. But it was too late to take it back now. "You said I place you on a pedestal," you said carefully. "That I see something in you that isn’t real. That my perception of you is just… an illusion of my own making. But… isn’t truth also shaped by perception? Isn’t it possible that what we see as truth is just another illusion? Something we convince ourselves of?"

Silence stretched between you. The Academy halls, once vast and endless, now felt small and confined within the weight of the question hanging in the air. The lanterns above flickered gently, their glow casting shifting shadows against the stone walls. Then, to your utter shock, Shadow Milk Cookie smiled. Not his usual, knowing smile the kind that came when he had already deciphered the answer before the question had even been asked. No, this was something else. Something closer to satisfaction. "Ah," he breathed, eyes alight with intrigue. "Now you are asking the right questions." Your breath hitched. He clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Tell me, then," he said, his voice smooth, measured. "If truth were an illusion, then what makes it different from any other falsehood? What separates reality from deception?" You opened your mouth, then shut it again. How were you supposed to answer that? His gaze never wavered, patient yet expectant. He was not dismissing your question. No, he was indulging it feeding it, waiting to see where you would take it. The realization sent a shiver down your spine. Even now, after hours of struggle, after making a fool of yourself in the lecture hall and in office hours, he was still encouraging you. Still pushing you to think, to question. Not because he doubted you, but because he wanted to see if you could reach the answer on your own. Your hands clenched at your sides. Perhaps… perhaps that was the difference. Perhaps truth was not a static thing, an unshakable force that simply existed. Perhaps it was something sought after, something earned.

A beat of silence stretched between you, the weight of his question pressing heavily upon your thoughts. Try as you might, no answer came, not one you were confident in, at least. You swallowed hard, gripping your parchment as though it might somehow grant you clarity. Your mind twisted and turned, sifting through everything you had ever learned, everything you had ever questioned. But no matter how you approached it, the answer remained just out of reach. Slowly, you exhaled. Then, with great reluctance, you admitted, "I… don’t know." Shadow Milk Cookie watched you carefully, his expression unreadable. He did not scoff, nor did he look disappointed. If anything, there was something almost expectant in his gaze.

You hesitated before speaking again, your voice quieter this time.

"When…" You shifted your weight, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "When is our next tutoring session?" The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to sink into the floor. What were you even saying? You had spent the entire evening resisting his help, yet here you were, asking for more? But it was too late to take it back now. Shadow Milk Cookie blinked once, then let out a soft chuckle. "Ah…" His smile was small but unmistakable. "So you wish to continue?" You fidgeted, heat creeping up your neck. "I mean…" You cleared your throat. "I still can’t answer your question. And I doubt I’ll figure it out on my own." His eyes gleamed, a knowing amusement dancing within them. "Perhaps not yet." Your fingers curled around your parchment. "So… when?" For a brief moment, he simply observed you, his heterochromatic gaze searching. Then, with a slow nod, he said, "Tomorrow. Same time." Your breath caught. So soon? You had expected him to at least hesitate, to question if it was worth his time to continue tutoring a student who struggled so much. And yet, he had answered without a second thought. He had already decided. You nodded stiffly, unsure of what else to say. "Alright… Tomorrow, then." "Indeed." He inclined his head slightly, the candlelight catching the silver edges of his robes. Then, without another word, he turned forward once more, resuming his steady pace down the corridor. You lingered for a moment, watching him, still unable to fully grasp how you had ended up here. The Sage of Truth, the scholar admired by all, had willingly taken you under his wing. And, whether you were ready or not… Tomorrow, it would begin again.

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of parchment and old stone as you walked the winding path toward the dormitories. The lamps flickered gently, their glow casting elongated shadows across the cobbled walkways. The Academy was quiet at this hour, only the occasional distant murmur of scholars deep in discussion broke the silence. And yet, despite the stillness, your thoughts churned like a storm. You had asked him when the next tutoring session would be. And he had agreed. The realization sent a fresh wave of regret coursing through you. You wanted to take it back. To insist that you had only spoken in the moment, that you didn’t actually need his help, that you were fine struggling on your own. But you couldn’t. Professor Almond Custard Cookie had already made you his problem. You could still hear your professor’s resigned sigh from earlier, the subtle relief in his voice when the Sage of Truth had offered his guidance. That had been the final decision. The moment Shadow Milk Cookie had taken an interest, your fate had been sealed.

You weren’t just his student now. You were his baggage. And worse, you didn’t want to fail. No matter how humiliating it was to struggle under his piercing gaze, no matter how small you felt in the presence of someone whose mind operated at a level you couldn’t even fathom… you knew the truth. You weren’t going to make it on your own. Your grip tightened around the strap of your bag as you risked another glance at him. He walked with that same effortless grace, his long robes trailing just slightly with each step, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. He didn’t acknowledge your unease, nor did he seem weighed down by the burden of tutoring someone as hopeless as you. Because to him, this wasn’t a burden at all. That, somehow, made it worse. You exhaled slowly, willing your nerves to settle. The dormitories were just ahead. Soon, you could retreat to your room, bury yourself under the weight of your own thoughts, and figure out how you were going to survive this. Because tomorrow, there was no turning back.

The next day the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the courtyard, its warmth doing little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. You sat slouched on a stone bench, a half-eaten pastry in your hands, letting the idle chatter of your friends wash over you. “You’re lucky you weren’t in class earlier,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned, stretching out beside you. “Professor Caramel Chiffon assigned three new readings. Three. And he hinted at a quiz. An unannounced quiz.” Chai Latte Cookie snorted. “Sounds about right.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his coat, ever composed. “Frankly, I don’t understand why you’re complaining. It was a straightforward lecture.” Hazelnut Biscotti rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I Read Ahead for Fun.’” Chai Latte turned to you then, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, weren’t you supposed to be in that lecture?” You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…Yeah.” Hazelnut Biscotti sat up, grinning. “You skipped?” Earl Grey frowned slightly. “That’s unlike you.” “I needed a break, okay?” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I was so lost yesterday that Professor Almond Custard Cookie actually sent me to the Sage of Truth for tutoring.” They went silent. Then Hazelnut Biscotti whistled. “Whoa. That’s, uh… That’s serious.” Chai Latte’s eyes widened. “Wait, the Sage of Truth? Like, Shadow Milk Cookie?” “The one and only,” you muttered, slumping against the stone bench. “And before you say anything, no, I don’t know how this happened. One second I was getting grilled in office hours, and the next, he was standing there, offering to help.” Earl Grey’s expression turned thoughtful. “That’s… quite the opportunity. He doesn’t just tutor anyone.” You groaned. “Yeah, thanks, I know.” Chai Latte leaned in with a sly smile. “And you didn’t immediately pass out from embarrassment?” “Oh, I wanted to,” you admitted. “But now I’m stuck. Professor Almond Custard basically assigned me to him like I’m some kind of lost cause. I can’t back out without looking like an idiot, and I really don’t want to fail.”

Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled. “So what you’re saying is, you’re the Sage of Truth’s baggage now.” You shot him a look. “Please don’t put it like that.” Earl Grey folded his arms. “Well, are you actually going to his tutoring sessions?” “…Yeah.” You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. “But I’d rather keep it quiet. The last thing I need is everyone knowing I need extra help, especially from him.” Chai Latte gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell a soul.” “Thanks.” You exhaled. “I just needed a break today. I can’t handle another hour of feeling completely stupid.” “Understandable,” Hazelnut Biscotti said with a shrug. “One bad day is not gonna kill you.” Earl Grey, though still looking skeptical, didn’t push further.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, who had actually blown up the alchemy lab, whether the Academy’s bakery was secretly using illegal enchantments to make their pastries addictive, and speculation about which professor would crack under stress first. It was… nice. Until Hazelnut Biscotti suddenly grinned. “Oh, this is interesting.” You blinked. “What?” Chai Latte hummed. “A rather esteemed scholar seems to be gracing us with his presence.” Earl Grey smirked. “And he’s not alone.” You followed their gaze and your stomach dropped. Shadow Milk Cookie. Walking through the courtyard with two other scholars, deep in conversation, his presence as commanding as ever. His embroidered robes shimmered in the light, his expression composed, thoughtful every bit the revered academic you’d always admired from a distance. And he was heading this way. Panic seized your chest. If he sees me, he’ll know I skipped class. Without thinking, you grabbed Hazelnut Biscotti’s sleeve and yanked him closer. “Hide me.” He choked on his laughter. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.” Chai Latte barely stifled a giggle. “Wait, why are we hiding you? You like him, don’t you?” You gawked at her. “What?! No! That’s not-” “Ohhh, this is priceless,” Hazelnut Biscotti wheezed. “I don’t like him!” you hissed. “I just don’t want him to know I skipped class!” Earl Grey raised an eyebrow. “So, the great Sage of Truth personally tutors you, and instead of actually attending lectures, you’re hiding from him in a bush?” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t planning on hiding in a bush, but if that’s what it takes-” “You’re ridiculous,” Chai Latte giggled, before glancing over at Shadow Milk Cookie’s group. “Okay, okay, he’s almost past us, just don’t move.” You froze, heart hammering. Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice drifted closer, measured, inquisitive, effortlessly drawing his companions into discussion. And then He paused. You stopped breathing. Earl Grey, ever the calm one, muttered, “You definitely look suspicious right now.” Before you could respond, Shadow Milk Cookie resumed walking, his group moving past without so much as a glance in your direction. As soon as they were gone, you collapsed back against the bench with a heavy sigh. Your friends immediately lost it. Hazelnut Biscotti doubled over laughing. “You should’ve seen your face-” Chai Latte wiped away tears. “You so looked like a guilty student caught by a professor” “I was a guilty student caught by a professor!” you groaned. Earl Grey smirked. “You’re just lucky he didn’t see you.” You exhaled, feeling utterly drained. “I really hope so.” Hazelnut Biscotti leaned back with a grin. “Either way, that was hilarious.” You shot him a glare…But at least you weren’t caught. Probably.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “So… what’s he like?” You blinked, still recovering from your near-exposure. “Huh?” “The Sage of Truth,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’ve actually talked to him now, right? So what’s he like?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah, is he really as mysterious and wise as everyone says?” Earl Grey Cookie sipped his tea, ever composed. “I’d imagine he’s rather intimidating.” You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under their expectant stares. The truth was, you weren’t entirely sure how to describe him. You had only met him once well, formally, anyway. Sure, you had seen him before, standing at the podium in grand lectures you never attended, passing by in the halls with that effortless air of authority. But actually sitting with him, discussing your academic struggles? That was different. You exhaled. “Honestly… I don’t know yet.” Chai Latte raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You met him, didn’t you?” “Well, yeah,” you admitted. “But it’s only been one session. And most of that was just him trying to figure out how bad I actually am at this.”

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “That bad, huh?” You groaned, covering your face. “Don’t remind me.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you. “Come on, though. First impressions? What was it like sitting across from the Sage of Truth?” You thought back to yesterday how he had arrived in the office so suddenly, brimming with discoveries before shifting his attention entirely to you. How effortlessly he had unraveled your mistakes, yet without a trace of condescension. How he had challenged you, his golden gaze expectant, patient, assured. “…He’s sharp,” you admitted after a moment. “Like… really sharp. It’s like he already knows the answers but wants to see if you can get there.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed. “That makes sense. A true scholar guides rather than simply provide.” You nodded. “Yeah, but the problem is, I couldn’t get there. No matter how he rephrased it, I just” You sighed. “I couldn’t keep up.” Chai Latte frowned. “Did he get frustrated with you?” You shook your head. “No. If anything, it was worse. He was patient.” Hazelnut Biscotti winced. “Oof.” “Yeah,” you muttered. “It made me feel even dumber.” Earl Grey considered this. “Patience can be more unnerving than reprimand. It forces you to confront your own inadequacies.” You stared at him. “…Yeah. Exactly that.” Chai Latte nudged you again. “But come on, there’s gotta be more to him than just being smart.” You hesitated, thinking back to the way he carried himself so composed, so sure. How his words carried weight without force. How he had looked at you not with disappointment, but expectation, like he truly believed you could improve.

“…He’s confident,” you said slowly. “Not in an arrogant way. Just�� assured. Like he doesn’t doubt himself. Ever.” Hazelnut Biscotti whistled. “Must be nice.” Earl Grey nodded. “A scholar of his caliber would have little reason to doubt.” Chai Latte smirked. “And? Is he at least nice to look at?” You nearly choked. “What?!” She grinned. “Come on, you can’t tell me the robes, the hair, the mystique don’t at least add to the appeal.” Hazelnut Biscotti waggled his eyebrows. “All the scholars love him, you know. And not just for his wisdom.” You buried your face in your hands. “I am not discussing this.” Earl Grey shook his head. “This is hardly relevant to his academic prowess.” “Exactly!” You gestured to him. “Thank you!” Chai Latte just laughed. “Okay, okay, we’ll drop it. But you are going back, right?” You exhaled, slumping back. “Yeah. I don’t really have a choice.” Hazelnut Biscotti grinned. “Well, if nothing else, at least we’ll get more firsthand reports on the great and mysterious Sage of Truth.” You groaned. “You all are the worst.” Chai Latte beamed. “And yet, you love us.” You rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, you smiled.

A/N There will be more interactions with the sage dw but I need to build the world it would be super unrealistic if we had no friends LOL And I know there's a canon Earl Grey Cookie but I only realized after I finished sooo it's up to yall to picture him as the canon or come up with your own appearances all the other cookies mentioned are made up <3

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#cr kingdom #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #cookierun kingdom #shadow milk #crk shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie crk #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie #sage of truth #smc crk #sm cookie #smilk cookie #smilk

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theetherealbloom · 7 months ago

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IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

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A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade.

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.”

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?”

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.

IMPERIAL VILLA — NIGHT

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. ��No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.

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kaiowut99 · 1 year ago

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...so all this time, I've been applying fixes to card errors for my finalized GX subs often using a combination of AfterEffects and Sony Vegas with scenes involving movement like zooms or panning along the screen... manually keyframing zooms or pans in Vegas after Power-Pinning a card proxy into place in AE...

...when I could've been using Track Motion in AE to wipe out 95% of the work?? Leaving just spot-checking here/there to see how it came out??? How did I only just get the hang of that lmao

#subbing rambling #i only just figured it out since i was applying a fix to a 'jenerater' typo on the Amon Dis-Belt analysis screen in 111 #[after digging up a tutorial or two]#which made that a much simpler fix than i thought it'd be had i gone to keyframe the zoom there in Vegas alone #so tried it with one of the errors in 112 where Amon has Poison Cloud on his Disk where Nimbusman should be #[and this happens a few times in 111 and 112 btw--in 111 at one point Manjoume already has V-to-Z where VW should be on his Disk lol]#and boom it followed the positioning and scale near perfectly #and the next one i just did with just a straight pan across the screen was perfect #really not sure why i didn't try it sooner #that'll probably save some good time going forward haha #anyway also an update that work on 111 and 112 is coming along and i'm working on a few more fixes for 112 #then i'll work on the credits; set up the video; and then get onto the scripts #stay tuned~

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neil-gaiman · 2 years ago

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hello Mr gaiman! loved the series, hated the heartbreak, etc. this is more a technical concern that you undoubtedly had little to do with, but as someone who requires subtitles to process the audio, it would be nice if the styling guide on them was consistent. it was very jarring for the first several episodes to call him Mr. Fell and then all of a sudden the last 2 called him Mr. Phale. (there were several other errors throughout the season, and honestly with as high a budget as this show probably had it's... a little bit disheartening to see corners cut on the subtitles tbh. disabled people love tv too 😭) the good news is that since good omens is on streaming, it must be very easy indeed to update the subtitle files. it's not like having to retract a half million copies of a DVD.

You have no idea how bad the subtitles are. I, who knows what the characters were actually saying and how far the subtitles often were from the words said, can promise cheerfully it's worse than you think.

If I hadn't been on strike I would have seen the closed captions and fixed them. I am on strike and I'm sorry to all the people who use or rely on the captions.

I understand that Amazon are getting it fixed and that our producer, Sarah-Kate Fenelon, is going to be actually going through them against the scripts. And then the changes will go up.

#subtitles #wga strike

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littlemssam · 1 month ago

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Mod Updates & Translation

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

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Foster Family Fixed an Issue with Add as Foster Child Cheat not working, when the Sim is not in a single Household. Added a new Shift Click Cheat to registered Sims (FF Network), where you can temporary disable the "New Foster Kids/Pets" Notifications, until you enable them again.

My Pets My Pets should not block Super Speed 3 anymore (e.g. when all Sims are sleeping).

Herbalism | New Potions Humanization Potion should work on Spellcaster, Mermaids, and Werewolves as well now. Changed the Mod from "Two Versions choose one" to one Version plus Addons.

Retail Overhaul - Go Shopping – More Options Part Fixed an Issue with a Script Error when trying to place certain Shelfs in a Store. Removed the two Addons and merged them with the Main Package.

Transfer Inventory Added "Take everything out of the Grocery Bag" on the Grocery Bag from the new Kitchen Clutter Kit.

RSM (Cats & Dogs) - Pets Longer Nap Added a bunch of Pet Sleep "Left At Home" Interactions and made them sleep longer as well. Those Sleep Interactions usually happen when all Sims are at work/School, or when all Sims are sleeping and Super Speed 3 gets activated.

RSM (Get Famous) - New Hug Animation If Confident Added a Test so the new Hug will only happen, when Get Famous is installed. Removed the Acting part from the Animation before the Hug.

Other Mods - Play Cards Anywhere Changing the Game to Cards, Llama, Sabacc, Simbles, or Puzzles should now be easier. Removed Ingame Resources. Mod Needs XML Injector now.

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Translations

Riding Companion Dog Added French by heidi

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My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com

Support Questions via Discord only please!

#littlemssam #sims 4 mods #updates #translations

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melshifting · 2 months ago

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THE ULTIMATE SPORTS & HOBBIES SCRIPTING PACK ꒰ 01 ꒱ .☘︎ ݁˖

❝ It’s not even fair how good they are at everything.❞

— VOLLEYBALL

♫ ㆍ Your inner clock adjusts to match the rhythm of every match—so you never mistime a jump, hit too early, or react too slow.

♫ ㆍ Your arms and hands never sting or swell after a hard dig or block, no matter how intense the play.

♫ ㆍ No matter the lighting or gym, your depth perception stays crystal clear.

♫ ㆍ You can instantly spot weak points in any team’s formation after one rotation.

♫ ㆍ Your intuition about out balls is always right. No hesitation when letting a deep shot go—you just know when not to touch it.

♫ ㆍ You’re naturally synced with your setter—even if you’ve never played together, you feel their rhythm instantly.

♫ ㆍ Your serves are never accidentally out—you’re free to risk jump serves, floaters, or short serves.

♫ ㆍ Tape never peels, pads never slip; everything you put on stays in place without needing constant adjustments.

— DRAWING/PAINTING

♫ ㆍ Even at the most detailed and intricate strokes, your hand maintains perfect precision, removing the need for rulers or corrections.

♫ ㆍ Your brushes never wear out or fray, they always stay in perfect condition.

♫ ㆍ Without trial and error, you mix your paints knowing instinctively the exact color combination to achieve any shade.

♫ ㆍ You can draw or paint in complete darkness—your muscular memory and spatial awareness allow you to create impeccable pieces.

♫ ㆍ You have an intuitive understanding of anatomy and proportions. Everything and anything looks realistic and dynamic, regardless of perspective.

♫ ㆍ When something doesn't look right, your eye immediately identifies the problem, and you know how to correct it without starting from scratch.

♫ ㆍ References appear in your mind like flashcards—if you’ve seen it once you can mentally flip back to it when sketching.

♫ ㆍ You’re not sure why, but your favorite pen seems to stretch for extra pages, your paint tubes never dry out, and your erasers don’t crumble.

— ICE SKATING

♫ ㆍ Your blades never need sharpening—they’re always at their optimal state.

♫ ㆍ Even on cold trails, you maintain flexibility and warmth, eliminating the risk of stiffness or injury.

♫ ㆍ You never forget your choreography mid-routine—your muscles narrate the performance before your brain even finishes thinking.

♫ ㆍ Your spins are always perfectly centered—your balance is so impeccable that your spins look flawless.

♫ ㆍ Even the most intricate routines are fixed in your mind after seeing them just once.

♫ ㆍ Your body mechanics are so finely tuned that high-difficulty steps become your signature moves.

♫ ㆍ After you fall, your clothes never get soaked or uncomfortable. You bounce up, and it’s like nothing touched you.

♫ ㆍ Your costume/outfit never tears, rides up, or itches.

— WRITING

♫ ㆍ Every time you reread your work, the mistakes or awkward parts stand out just enough to catch, but not enough to make you spiral.

♫ ㆍ You never forget that one specific word you’re looking for, it bubbles up exactly when you need it.

♫ ㆍ You're so good at describing a feeling or detail, that readers often say “I’ve never seen it written like that before” because it’s deeply accurate.

♫ ㆍ You never lose the initial feeling that made you want to write something in the first place.

♫ ㆍ You keep what matters without over-polishing—you know which edits would please a reader and which would dilute your voice.

♫ ㆍ Your notebooks/docs never lose structure, even if you’re jumping between ideas.

♫ ㆍ When you need inspiration, you always “randomly” stumble upon the right book, show, or quote.

♫ ㆍ Your back never hurts from long writing sessions; you shift naturally and stretch intuitively between sessions.

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carnatus89 · 6 months ago

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Shen Qingqiu triple trouble!

So, System Possession AU of @artsarasp is going through, stuff let's say. Angsty stuff. So of course my mind was like.

Let's make shen triplets!

The situation is, Shen Jiu has his fatal Qi deviation, Shen Yuan dies by choking on food and all is normal. But, some error occurs, and both Shen Jiu’s and Shen Yuan’s souls are in danger of disintegrating from the Qi deviation. The System notices this and tries to fix it, forcing the soul to generate a body to occupy from basically thin air. But there’s a problem, since there’s two souls that are now generating a body, meanwhile the original body is still functional, though has been metaphorically dragged through the mud. Thus, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan materialize with new bodies while the System is absorbed into the spare body.

So now we have three Shen Qingqius. And the System is Not Happy.

Neither is Shen Jiu to be honest.

Shen Yuan somehow convinces both the System and Shen Jiu that they should pretend to just be brothers, make some bullshit about trapped consciousness to fool the peak lords, while he wacks his brain to try to avoid death or punishment from the enraged System. Which can still give both points and punishments. The problem is that since he got the short end of the stick in the body lottery, he has to be very careful of exerting the body’s limits, so he can’t get agitated. And giving punishments is very agitating. Shen Yuan is basically trying to make the System care. If Wall-E can love, so can the System, wouldn’t it be better for the story if he becomes an active member? It would also be better to leave the story to develop itself organically, think about all the character development! So the protagonist can have a more round support cast! If he read something like that, he wouldn’t have criticized so much the papapa scenes since he could just focus on that! What do you think System-bro?

Meanwhile Shen Jiu is very conflicted, since these, what, fakers? Clones? Some type of demons? Are stealing his face and seem to have some ulterior motive, but both seem eager to ‘help him’ somehow. Granted, the blue eyed freak is creepy as fuck, a fake cherfulness that all his instincts scream to get away from, but he’s mostly… nice. The definition of the word, at least. The other fake is snarky, doesn’t really back down from a verbal dispute, and, while infuriating, it’s more real. Safer, in a way, more honest. Besides, the blue eyed one is useful when trying to find synonyms while writing or finding the name of a song he couldn’t remember well. They can stay, for now.

System is actually scared. They saved the scum villain character, but made a bigger problem while also becoming… vulnerable. How could they make sure the story functions if they have a weak and frail body? They are forced to play along, become a more direct support to the characters to make sure they stay in line. But [User02] seems to have other ideas, and while they must punish him, they really can’t without suffering themselfs. The original scum villain for the most part follows the script, but he also seems perturbed by their presence, which is fine. All is fine, they should be able to fix it.

Somehow.

The three of them are mostly the same in appearance. The major difference that the peaklords catch on is the mark on the forehead (I don’t remember what it is called). Shen Jiu has a lotus flower painted, Shen Yuan has a dot while the System has an empty circle, resembling a zero. Both Shen Jiu and the System have their clothes correctly, while Shen Yuan doesn’t really know how any of his layers of clothes work, so he fastened the belt around everyone, even the outer robe. Finally, the System has their hair tight to their head, Shen Jiu has it a little loose to let it flow but staying neat and clean. Shen Yuan just, tries his best. Finally, the System’s face is kinda cartoonish, they make faces that shouldn't be possible, stretching his smile wide and making their eyes a little too big. Both Shens don’t mention it much, they just say they’re special.

I don’t know what came to me to do this shit, but now’s here, deal with it.

Spanish rambling when this idea just came barreling through my brain.

#system possession #svsss au #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #This was all made in like an hour #don't judge me

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quietly-sleeping · 8 months ago

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@artsarasp take the worms that have festered in my brain

To those who are concerned, there are more important matters at hand than what is going on currently within the bamboo house atop Qing Jing.

These matters are not suitable for sharing with the original target audience of the work, Proud Immortal Demon Way, as the System guiding User 01 has declared it as immersion-breaking.

This doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen though.

The System of User 01 had been made aware of the anomaly of the System of User 02 not long before User 01 returned to Cang Qiong. Officially the systems were of the same source, and therefore extensions of one another. Unofficially, the System of User 01 hadn’t met the other system and had no intention of ever interacting with it.

Of course, in this doomed drama of a novel, nothing can ever go the way the System of User 01 wants it to go.

By the time User 01 had returned to the sect, and been informed of what had transpired the System of User 01 had determined the optimal solution for the current, as its User would say, fuck up. It gave User 01 a simple script to relay to the Peak Lords, they already knew of the existence of one system, and what conclusions they drew from User 01’s interference is not its problem.

Having them remove the Power Source from Qing Jing Peak was easy, but getting in the room alone with the wayward System was not. The other Peak Lords were nervous, eyeing User 01 and politely declining to leave when User 01 was in the room with the puppetted body of User 02.

Eventually though, as all humans do, they slipped up. Taking control of the body User 01 inhabited was easy, even if the system had never done it before. It was much like removing unnecessary data, routine, and lacking the need for manual input. Speaking was different, the System had never required a mouth or voice to speak, and it conveyed its messages through popups.

Manipulating the mouth and tongue of the body was a new experience, something the System had no time to analyze, as the irritating ramblings of User 01 had already begun in the back of the body's mind.

The System of User 02 stared at it, eyes glowing in the color it knew was programmed into it. What a distasteful disregard for the rules. The System across from it had to be young, the impatience and inability to reason within the confines of what was considered acceptable for humans were the telling factors. The System of User 01 spoke first, [Why.]

This was truly the crux of the issue, the System of User 02 had no reason within the rules to occupy User 02’s given body for so long. All it did was endanger the plotline and cause unnecessary cleanup. The System of User 02 tilted its head, a mockery of human habits, with a smile painted onto the lips of the body.

[This system intends to fix the errors caused by User 02.] The System of User 01 interrupted, [If User 02 could not fix the issues he has caused, he should have been sent back to his original body.] The System of User 02 froze.

[This system can fix the errors,] It insisted, [This system has calculated an optimal plotline for the Users to continue and this system–] The System of User 01 cut off the younger system yet again. [Why. Even if the issues caused by User 02 were not fixed and he was sent back to his original body it does not warrant direct interference from a system.]

The older system leaned forward, the body’s elbows coming to rest on the low table between them, [Unless you find something unacceptable about these consequences.] The System of User 02’s smile didn’t falter like the younger system was unaware of how to properly express as a human would in a body. [This system is unsure as to what you are speaking of.]

The System of User 01 rested the body's chin on its hands, glowing green eyes locked onto the figure in front of it. [You are aware of what this system is saying.] Despite the lack of tone in the system’s voice, something close to mockery tinted its voice. [What is it you find unacceptable, the return of User 02, or the reset of the system guiding the returned User?]

The System of User 02 tilted forward, staring downward at the other system with its unwavering smile. [This system does not find this line of thought amusing. This system would like to return to speaking of the plotline.]

[Unfortunate.] The System of User 01 stood up, the system across from it rocking back to keep its glowing eyes on the other system. The System of User 01 strode across the table and pulled the younger system to its feet. Keeping a hand curled in the robes of the other system it spoke slowly and clearly, [Your interference is a blatant disregard to the set rules, this system does not support the actions you have taken in your misguided attempts to fix the plotline.]

The System of User 02 opened its mouth to speak again but was interrupted once more by the older system. [If you could allow this system to speak until it is done that would be appreciated.] The System of User 01 would usually say that it does not feel most emotions, however, the familiar irritation typically spawned by interacting with its User was growing in the mind of the system.

The irritation spiked the moment the younger system went to open its mouth once more. The System of User 01 would also like it known that it does not usually act so impulsively or without thought. But the current series of events was figuratively driving the system up the wall.

So when the System of User 01 slammed the mouth of the body against the smiling mouth of User 02’s given body, it was not thinking as clearly as it usually did. It did cause the desired outcome, as the younger system had paused its attempt at interrupting again and the unwavering smile had slipped from the puppetted body.

The System of User 01 did not feel anything from the kiss, if it could even be called that, it was simply the press of two warm and giving objects. The system did not have the capacity to understand warmth though, and simply pulled away with the knowledge that it had succeeded and that was enough. It did not acknowledge the sudden halt of the nervous rambling in the back of the body’s mind.

[Further interference is strongly discouraged. This system recommends that the System of User 02 withdraw from the body given to User 02 and return to its previous role. Should the System of User 02 continue in its actions this system will not offer any advice and should it be required will report this.] The System of User 01 held the younger system close with the hand entangled in its robes. Green met blue as the system stared at each other.

[Understood?] The System of User 01 tightened its grip on the robes almost imperceptibly, pulling the other system just a hair closer. The System of User 02 was silent for a moment before the smile was once more on the lips of the body. [This system is confused by the unwillingness to cooperate from the System of User 01 but understands that interference is not wanted. This system will keep this in mind.]

The System of User 01 let go of the robes and turned to leave the room, on its way outside it passed by a worried Mu Qingfang slipping past to enter the room with the misguided system that the System of User 01 had left behind. The system finally acknowledged the silence in the mind of the body and informed the User that he would regain control once outside.

As the system released the controls to the body, it went through the usual analysis of conversation and reluctantly stored the file the analysis produced. It could acknowledge that the kiss was perhaps not the most optimal move to silence the other system, however, it had been successful and the system was programmed to store both successes and failures for future reference.

The system ran through a few more calculations, ignoring its frozen user as it worked through everything. Systems could not sigh, but the System of User 01 felt close enough as it prepared a report, better to be prepared as the humans say.

#svsss #fanfic #mxtx svsss #system possession #i barreled through this so i have no idea how coherent it is #sqh is having a moment and sy is not present #dunno if i portrayed them quite right but meh #ill reread it in the morning when im not two seconds from passing out #just as a funfact this is the first kiss ive written like ever lmao #additional funfact the doc is called let the systems fuck

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sandra-vu · 5 months ago

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The Sims 3 MODS LIST

this is basically a list of everything i have in my game right now (minus custom content). i'm very satisfied with this setup and i hope you can find something you'll find useful. everything is sorted in alpabetical order, because i love alphabetical order lol read mod descriptions before downloading and don't forget to thank the creators for their hard work! :)

ESSENTIAL / PERFORMANCE / SETTINGS x Add Any Lot Size x Catalog search x Gameplay Core Mod (tweaked to my liking, might show you my settings sometime if you'd like) x Interact on sloped terrain x New CAS and CAP animation options (posehum_posepets version) x No Camera Fade for Sims x No Foot Tapping While Waiting For Clear Route! x No Route Fail Tantrum Animations! x NRaas (Error trap, Go here, Master controller, Overwatch, Register) x Pregnancy Progress Controller (No Non Pregnant version) x Reduce/Remove Lag caused by Houseboats x Remove stencils/overlays from Build/Buy/CAS objects x Shimrod's Camera Lowlevel (edited by BrntWaffles) (Drift version) x Smooth patch

TWEAKS / FIXES x Anach tweaks (bouncer bribe x10, burglar tweaks, celebrity difficulty, celeb sue paparazzi, club closing times (5 am), donation amount, higher bills, longer eating, no auto pet wake up, party tweaks, wash hands chance) x Annoyances disabler x Cross eye fix x No "Mod scripts found" x No auto venue placement (reupload found here) x No build sparkles x No gloves w outerwear x No intro x Pick up toddler fix x Pigtail glitch fix x Random sim fixes x Set hour cheat x Slower cars, taxis, and bikes x Toddler routing fix

GAMEPLAY x 75% Chance per day elder will die x Acne & Skincare (tweaked – only teens) x Adults can play peekaboo and hug toddlers x Almost all TheSweetSimmer's mods (family gameplay must haves!) x Auto lights overhaul x Burglar hate x Burglars steal simoleons too x Cancel time off x Children can series (almost all of them) x Easy variety attraction x Energy drinks V2 x Faster gardening 50% x Fridge mod (no fridge shopping) x Get drunk x Hang out interaction (2t3) (all ages) x Layoff mod x Let me take a selfie x Lot population (reduced) x Meals anytime + some desserts x No autonomous homework x No imaginary friends x No mutated hair or eyes x No social groups (uni only) x Random genetics x Retirement home & elder care x Shorter Uni (3 credit hours) x Sims can skate on smaller ponds x Skating is fun x Take practice shots (photography) x Tooth fairy mod x User-directed scolding + other punishment tweaks x Wider TV viewing angle x Yoga mod

SLIDERS x AWT - Hat sliders x OEM – Eyeball size

DEFAULT REPLACEMENTS (MISC) x Apple Sauce Baby food (4t3) x Better ingredient thumbnails x Clean UI (BETA) x Facial Expressions (ALT) (TSM to TS3) x Fish mod x HD thought bubbles x Loading Screen Overhaul x Modern cursors x Modern map tags x Nectar glass replacer x New dishes (BOWL & MUG) (4t3) x TV Channels (4t3) x Walk cycle edits

DEFAULT REPLACEMENTS (CAS) x 2t3 plantsim body vines x Beards and eyebrows x Beetle eyes for cats and dogs x Beetle eyes for horses x Beetle eyes for humans (i also use these contacts for occults) x Blush baby skin (infant) x CAS background (steel blue) x ChazyBazzy hair defaults (pretty and still very maxis match textures, EA meshes) x Eye colors (presets) x Eyeball replacements – PU-CU / TU-EU x Freckles and moles x - x Makeup replacements x Skin - Satellites (DEF & NON-DEF)

DEFAULT REPLACEMENTS (ENVIRONMENT) x Better sun x Moon x Perfect Day – RH water with Gelina’s lighting tweaks x Reworked & Improved EA Lights x Skyrim Star Field (1024x1024) x Windows Lite Overrides

#ts3 #ts3 mods #masterlist #the sims 3 #sims 3 #resources

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wardenparker · 4 months ago

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The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 2

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* More fluff and sweetness. Adorable and awkward flirting. Workplace romance, technically? Clothing/trying on clothing. Summary: The first day of the movie crew's work is here, and no one is prepared for the whirlwind that this day will bring -- not even you and Javi. Notes: We started off strong with a big ol' error last week guys! Sorry about that. But thank you to those folx who brought it to my attention, you're simply the best readers out there. The start date of ch1 is now fixed and dates are fixed across the board. 🧡 This week enjoy a photo of the music room at The Breakers -- the house that inspired or fictional Hazelwood House.

Friday, April 4, 2025

“Javi, you don’t want to meet with the cast?”

He pauses, looking out of the front window of the little cottage at the wooden stakes marked off in the barren ground. Cleared and ready to be built and now lying abandoned. There didn’t seem to be much need to continue building a house when the woman who he was building it for had left. “They don’t need me at the read through.” He tells his agent, knowing that she had pushed for him to be on set and involved in every aspect of the filming, giving him more creative control. He appreciated it, but he was more excited about where the movie was being filmed than who was in it.

The thing is, Sherry knows him. She knows that there has to be a reason he pushed for the specific shooting location that inspired the script. She knows there's some girl there that he won't talk about – he'd showed up moon eyed to a meeting one day after working on the script and there had been something about it that screamed infatuation. Which is why she has no problem at all pulling the ace out from her proverbial sleeve.

"I would have thought you would want to see the house again." She hums. "Oh well. I'll let them know you're not coming and I'll cancel the car from the studio."

“The meeting is at the house?” He had assumed it was the studio read through. Not at the house. She hums and he starts to panic. “No! No, um, on second thought, I should see who is going to be playing my characters.”

Ever the professional, Sherry keeps her smile polite and betrays no hint of victory, despite the fact that she barely had to fight at all. "The director wanted the cast to be able to look around the house and grounds before the furniture gets swapped out for set pieces." She explains easily.

“Is the staff going to be there?” He asks eagerly. “To answer any questions for the cast? I don’t know a lot about the history, I mean. It would be good, you know, to have them there.” The idea of seeing you again has him already walking into his bathroom to get ready, needing a shower.

"As I understand it, a few of the docents will be there today." So that's what it is. One of the girls from the museum staff. "You have half an hour until the car gets here, Javi," she calls after him, grinning as he immediately hops into high gear.

Javi grins as he starts to rush through his shower. It’s ridiculous how excited he is by the idea of just seeing you again. Especially since he can’t recall ever seeing or hearing your name. He just knows that his entire mood brightens when he thinks about the few times that he’s interacted with you.

She hums again, pleased this time, and sits down in the living room of Javi's little house to wait. She has work she can do on her laptop in the meantime and sends a text off to the production assistant in charge of corralling the creative team for the movie, confirming that Javi will be there. Now she just needs to find out who this girl is.

Towel wrapped around his waist; he hurries into the bedroom closet to pick out an outfit. Wanting to strike the right chord and look good when he arrives.

Sherry only has to hurry him along once, and he's tucked into the studio car right on time and sent off to Santa Barbara. She doesn't have to babysit him there, she knows he'll do his work, but it's good that she stayed long enough to get him in the car. A day of work and whatever girl is in that house will do Javi a world of good.

In the car, Javi fiddles with his phone, triple checking the time and discreetly turning on the camera to check his appearance. He had made sure not to put on too much cologne, but he had completely forgot to check his hair. Even if it is shorter than he had worn it before.

He fidgets all the way to the museum, and the anticipation settles over him like the buzz of electricity threatening to shock him at any moment. The first thing he does when he walks in the front door is look to the front desk, but it isn't who he's looking for. He vaguely recognizes the young woman though, and flounders for a moment to remember her name. It's the girl who had been with you that night just before Christmas. The one who suggested you take your break with him.

“Hi.” He flashes smile at the woman. “I’m—”

“I’m so sorry sir.” Moira hates that the mystery man who managed to make you float on air arrived today of all days. “The house is closed for a private event.” She tilts her head sympathetically and walks around the desk to usher him outside.

“No, I just wished to see—”

“We will we be closed for the next four months.” She has dealt with difficult people all day. Insisting their little tour wouldn’t interrupt anything and she doesn’t want to have to tell you this guy ended up being a jackass.

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Javi!” He spins around when his name is called from deeper inside the house, turning to see the producer of the film, smiling broadly as he rushes forward.

“Scott.” He’s grateful that the other man had shown up when he did, about to be booted out on his ass by the girl.

"Javi?" Moira quickly moves back to the desk to look at the clipboard that she was given by the producer now striding into the foyer. Glancing down and down it, her jaw drops open a little before she lights up with glee. "Javier Gutierrez?" She asks, looking up at the producer.

"Our writer." Scott affirms. "We almost started without you, Jav. C'mon in. We're all in the ballroom."

“Sorry.” He ducks his head in apology and his eyes shift over to Moira. He nods quickly, not wanting her to think he was upset with her before he follows Scott. “The traffic was heavier than the driver anticipated.” He explains as they walk down the hall.

"Not to worry. But it's good you're here. You know how changes go." Scott hustles them along a hallway and through the open pocket doors into a ballroom that would fit an entire Olympic swimming pool. There are tables set up on one end so the cast can all face each other during the read, with extra seats for key members of the production team. On the other end of the ballroom, two production assistants are setting up a makeshift catering table with someone sitting in a chair at the far end.

He doesn’t feel nervous when he sees the famous faces that will be bringing the script to life. He smiles and waves to each one of them, happy that such a talented group has been chosen by the production team and the director. It’s going to be amazing, he can feel it. No, he gets nervous when he sees you sitting in a chair away from the tables, looking just as shocked to see him. Freezing for a second before he gives the most awkward wave of his life and wants to kick himself for being so ridiculous.

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod—

You almost short circuit, sitting there in that chair with your legs crossed and a book in your lap. Your jaw drops open in surprise while the rest of you lights up, returning his sweet, shy wave with a little one of your own.

Somehow you hadn’t even considered the possibility that a writer would be on set for the filming of their movie, although in retrospect of course they would. You’re just so stunned that it’s him that you can barely think.

She’s here. That’s the thought that flutters through his mind until Scott touches his arm and breaks the spell that seems to have possessed him. Pointing him to a chair and he sits down, twisting his head to look back at you one more time to confirm that it’s you and not his overactive imagination playing tricks on him.

He catches you looking and you don’t even have the presence of mind to do anything but be mildly embarrassed and giddy that he’s actually here. That for the next four months, the chances of seeing him aren’t just increased but high. Is it a silly crush? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with that in the least.

Javi tries to focus, but he catches himself wondering if you are listening. If you are happy that he will be here for the next four months.

He barely manages to mark comments during the read. His mind is forty feet in back of him sitting next to that folding table. It’s wrapped up in the navy blue dress and brown leather riding-style boots you have on today. He is utterly distracted beyond repair.

When the reading is finished with there is chatter at the table, a speech from the director, another from a different producer, and then one from the museum’s head curator.

You manage to hear most of what your boss says, straining a little only at times because of the size of the room, but the acoustics are good enough. She’s telling the cast and production crew that they’re going to be split into three groups to be led around the house by herself and the two docents here today. And then she excuses herself to bring Moira in while the whole cast breaks for something to eat before their tours.

Immediately Javi turns towards you and makes a beeline towards the chair where you are sitting. Or were sitting, now standing up and brushing down the front of your dress in an adorably nervous way. “Hi.” He rushes out when he gets within three feet of you.

“Hi.” The answering chirp is just as bright and excited as his is. You can’t help it. “I—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I- I wrote the movie.” He’s not bragging, not really. He’s just stumbling for something to say without sounding like an idiot. “My agent, she insists that I be involved with the production. So that I can keep creative influence over the final product.” The success of the three movies he’s written so far has all but guaranteed that he gets what he asks for and she makes sure he does.

“You wrote a movie that takes place here?” Obviously he did, but you’re still stunned enough to be fumbled to connect all of the dots necessary to sound like an intelligent person. “Is that…I mean…it has to be, doesn’t it? Why you came back to visit the house? It really spoke to you.”

“That’s part of it.” Not all of it of course. The house is beautiful and did spark his interests, but that’s not the entire reason he kept coming back.

“Only part?” You can’t help feel yourself hoping. That dangerous, seductive, riotous feeling that takes wing in the hollow of your chest. That part of you dreams he’s thought about you a mere fraction as much as you’ve thought about him.

“I came back several other times.” He admits bashfully. “You were not here, I must assume you were off.”

“You…looked for me?” And just like that, hope’s wings unfurl into something so bold and beautiful that you almost erupt into disbelieving, giddy giggles.

“I liked our conversations.” He’s worried that it might have been improper until you start beaming at him. Making him smile in response.

“I did too.” It’s a terrible understatement, but it’s true.

“You did?” He brightens slightly, licking his bottom lip nervously. “I was worried that I was bothering you.” He admits with a laugh.

“Not at all.” In fact, the warmth in your cheeks at that simple confession runs all the way down your neck and blossoms in your chest. “I was afraid that I was bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head vigorously. “I was disappointed to learn I couldn’t have a one-on-one tour.” He admits. “I asked once, when you were off, hoping to get you and you weren’t there anyway.” He can’t help but laugh at himself for that and shrugs.

“I’m certain we could manage one during filming, though things will be moved around. Our furniture and collections items are going into storage starting tomorrow.” It will be a very busy work day for your conservation and collections staff along with the moving company that has been hired, but the docents have the weekend off. You’ve planned a very busy weekend of sitting around and doing nothing at all.

He moves towards the tables that are ladened down with food and picks up a plate to hand to you. “I know, but the furniture will be replicas of the original furniture.” He had been specific about certain pieces in the script. “The set designer loved the originals.”

“Really?” Surely that must have cost a fortune, and it shocks you that he would have gone through so much work. “Is that why they want the cast and crew to see the set up of the house today?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I gave a specific tone for this movie.” He admits, smiling as he reaches for a mini croissant chicken salad. “Do you like these?” He offers, holding it out to you. “Craft services is really good.”

“I love chicken salad. Thank you.” Not to mention you’ll try just about anything once, but he’s hit on a favorite immediately. He sets two of the small sandwiches on your plate beside the scone you had already selected. “So you…write the film after visiting? Or did the house happen to fit the story that you wanted to tell?”

“I was starting the script.” He admits. “I was stuck on how I wanted it to be set and the house was mentioned. So I decided to come see it.” He chooses a little egg tart and hums. “That first visit is where you talked about the mosaic tiles. I knew then I wanted the movie set here.”

“Because of the tiles?” You ask, amused at the thought. He had been so entranced by the detail that you almost aren’t surprised.

“It’s is so specific.” He defends. “That had to be a decision that was made by the owners, the designers. I can’t imagine the builder caring if the tiles were the same marble.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” you remind him with a gentle laugh. “I wish the family had kept more records about the design choices, but how could Mrs. Hollingsworth have known her house would become a museum?”

“It would be interesting to see.” He agrees, scooping some of the seafood salad onto his plate.

“The great-grandchildren, the ones that are still living, are notoriously hands off.” You explain as you go down the line together, filling your plates with all of the delicious looking offerings that catering has provided. “And their children have no connection to the house whatsoever. So whatever information we’re ever going to have…we pretty much already have it.”

“That’s sad.” He frowns slightly, remember his own big beautiful house that would be forgotten. It had been seized by the police when Lucas has been arrested.

“Perhaps we’ll do some digging in the archives one day or find something new in a trap door of the attic.” You hope you will, anyway. The more information the better. “Who knows?”

The two of you make your way through the line to the drinks and he picks up a strawberry lime soda. “Do you want to talk while we eat?” He asks. “Or do you have to meet with your boss?”

“No, I—I’d rather stay and talk to you.” It seems like a very forward thing to say, but you pick out a can of sparkling lemonade from the cooler and practically beam. “My boss will let me know who is in my tour group after lunch.”

“Then we should sit down.” He guides you over to table to sit, finding the leads of the film already sitting.

Sitting down to a casual lunch with movie stars was not something you had on your Bingo card for your life. Not really. Living in Southern California didn’t guarantee a damn thing and you certainly haven’t done any kind of acting since high school drama club. The best you can do is a polite if awkward smile as you sit down in the chair that is being held out for you and hope that small talk trends toward the house. That you can talk about.

“Javi, I am sooooo thrilled to work on this.” The lead actress, Tamara Wilson, has an impressive range from what he has seen in the audition clips. “The script is amazing.”

He sits down and ducks his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“It’s such character-focused story telling.” The younger of the two male leads, Jason Grant, is a relative newcomer but fought to get this role and he’s excited for it. “The research you did is incredible.”

He chuckles. “It was interesting.” He shoots you a glance. “The house is part of the focus of the film.” He explains since you haven’t read the script. “A character on her own.”

“She’s a very worthy to house to include.” A glowing part of you warms from the toes up at the idea that any of this might be because you talked to him about the house, and you don’t mind admitting that to yourself at all. “I’ll do my very best, we all will, to answer any question you all have about the house and the family here. I know the family in your movie will be different, but we’ll do so glad to answer any questions we possibly can.”

“Are there any secret passages?” Tamara asks, leaning in with the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Several.” You assure her with a grin. “I’ll show you when we walk around. The staff made their way through the house invisibly to make it like the place operated by magic alone.”

“That is amazing.” She gushes, looking around to try to figure out where an opening would be in this room. “Imagine the secrets they must have overheard.”

"Any time someone in a costume drama jokes that 'the maids know everything', it's not really a joke." Eating as you chat makes it feel slightly less daunting, especially with Javier sitting beside you looking like he's hanging on your every word. "Domestic staff knew everything about the people they worked for. And were usually privy to secrets that the family were keeping from each other, on top of it all."

“So you would want to make sure your staff was loyal to you.” She nods seriously and looks over past Jason to Alexander as he joins the four of you at the table. “Or in this case - you.” She snorts and rolls her eyes playfully.

"Me?" Alex points to himself, eyebrows raised, and sets his plate down beside the binder holding his script. "What did I do?"

Alex is objectively beautiful, even Javier can admit that as he glances over at the man that magazines call a ‘heartthrob’. It is rumored that he will be the next year’s Sexiest Man Alive and better yet, he’s a beautiful soul. Jason chuckles. “You have to make sure all the staff are loyal to you.” He explains and points at you. “Starting with her.”

"Oh," you fluster, clearing your throat gently and looking unintentionally bashful. "I'm afraid my loyalties are already spoken for. No hard feelings, gentlemen." It's a ludicrous thing to say to one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood and a tv actor you've swooned over with Moira, but...it's true. And there's just no way to deny it.

“Well, damn.” Even though he’s just now getting involved with the conversation, Alex is nothing if not willing to tease and joke around with his casemates. “Way to break a man’s heart before introductions.” He reaches out his hand. “Alex Powell.” He introduces himself, giving that characteristic smile that has ladies normally swooning. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Powell -- and it's very nice to meet you by the way -- I'm afraid not." You can think of at least a half dozen friends off the top of your head who would be screaming to shake Alexander Powell's hand right now, but you find yourself oddly impartial to him in this moment. Obviously he's handsome, but the man sitting to your right, with his gorgeous curls and bright brown eyes, has already laid every possible claim over your affections.

“Damn.” His eyes slide to your side and he notices the way Javi Gutierrez, the entire reason he signed on to the project, looks downright relieved at your answer. “Then you and I are going to be friends.” He decides, sending you a wink.

******

When the lunch break finishes, everyone clears away their dishes into the bins provided by the catering staff, and the museum's head curator steps up to the front of the group. "We'll split into three tour groups," she announces pleasantly, her characteristic smile broad across her face. "Group A will be the technical crew and production assistants. Group B will be the costumers, hair and make-up department, and Second Team actors. Group C will be First Team actors and production crew."

She looks out on the sea of assembled people, as the crew that were not on site for the read through all arrived during lunch time. "Group A will be with me, Group B with our docent Moira," she points to the north side of the ballroom and Moira waves. And then Leslie points in your direction, telling Group C that they will be taking their tour with you.

Javi lights up, hoping that he would be put with you, although he never would have protested. Whatever is happening between you both is fragile and this is your job. Calling attention to your boss is never a good thing, at least he would never willingly admit anything to Lucas before. Protecting that glowing feeling in his chest as he steps towards you.

"We keep getting lucky," you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear as you smother a smile.

“I wonder if your boss decided to do that on purpose.” Biting his lip, he glances over at the older woman. “She is the one I spoke to about a private tour.”

“Maybe.” But you can’t say you mind. Not even a little bit. “Leslie is incredibly sweet. I can see her doing that. She’ll always do what she can to make people happy.”

“It won’t make you uncomfortable for me to be on the tour?” He doesn’t think that it will make you feel that way, but he wants to be sure. He knows he can be a little….intense at times.

“Why would I be uncomfortable with that?” If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d be a little jealous if he went on someone else’s tour. It’s just the crush talking, surely, but you feel connected to him. Like he would just wander away carrying a piece of you if he went with anyone else.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grins as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I am being too bold?” He offers. “I can be over eager sometimes.”

"To be fair..." Having him talk of being bold makes you feel the same way. "You haven't actually said anything forward at all."

He realizes that you are right, but the way you say it makes his smile widen, reaching his eyes. “Perhaps you would like me to?” He asks, only to have Scott come up and clap him on the back.

“Tour time!” He grunts happily. “Javi, make sure to point out to Alex and Tamara where their clandestine scenes will be.”

You don't know the man from a hole in the wall but you are instantly frustrated with this producer. His timing was perfectly horrible and you nearly deflate at not being able to answer Javier right away. The best you can do right now is catch his eye as the group starts to assemble around you and mouth, 'Yes' with a nod of your head. Yes, you absolutely do want him to be bold. To make a move. To actually like you as much as you like him.

Javi tucks his hands deeper into his pockets and hangs back slightly so he can have a moment to celebrate. He hurries to catch up and is eager to hear everything you have to say.

All three tours start in different areas of the house. You walk the cast and main production crew through each room, talking to them about the architecture of the house, the use of each room, and the family that lived here. You show them the servant’s passages and answer as many questions as they have about the everyday workings of big houses and upper class families and large domestic staffs of the Gilded Age.

At one point, Tamara laughs in disbelief at the sheer breadth of the knowledge you have accumulated. “How did you get to be such an expert?” She asks, genuinely interested as she pokes around the dressing room attached to Mrs. Hollingworth’s bedroom on the second floor.

“They say it takes ten thousand hours to be an expert in something,” you shrug your shoulders. “I ended up studying history in college, put my focus on domestic history and the culture of families in the Victorian and Gilded eras, and then I’ve worked in house museums. So…maybe five years ago? Would be when those ten thousand hours were fulfilled?”

“Wow.” Javi is suitably impressed. “That is amazing. I think that I have only become an expert in movies.” He snorts. “Watching them, not making them. Not yet.”

“Do we have an on set historical consultant?” Alex asks Scott, turning to the producer with a flourish of his hands in your direction. “I mean we have one, but can we make her official?”

Javi nods in agreement when Scott glances towards him. “It would be good to have her on set. Help them with any needed facts and I could use her for potential re-writes.”

“Oh, I couldn’t— I—”

“Done.” Scott nods. “Save me having to hunt down resources for you, so I’m all for it.” He gives you the same too-pleased smirk and insincere wink that you’ve seen him give nearly everyone else. “Welcome to Hollywood, kid.”

Alex chuckles, moving over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. "Buckle up." He warns, jostling you playfully. "We will pick your brain clean. I want to make sure we get this on the radar for awards."

“Oh, but that…that’s down to all of you. Not to me.” Your mind is spinning but not at all in a bad way. It all feels like the most fantastic dream. “You’re going to help.” Tamara promises, confident and bubbling over with excitement. “And when we get those red carpet invitations, one of us will bring you as our date. You’ll have a blast.”

Javi's eyes widen, surprised by the idea coming from the lead actress but he doesn't deny that. Hoping that he wouldn't have to watch you walk the carpet with someone else. That would be his luck.

“That’s a very generous offer.” One that flusters you immeasurably, and you shuffle your booted feet in place. “I’m very excited to help, just nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Jason huffs, smiling at you and tugging Tamara close to his side. They have previous worked together on a small project and are happy to be reunited again. “We are just as normal as you are. We just have a job that is….public.” He chuckles.

“Let’s take a little break before we talk about Monday’s scenes.” Always working, Scott wipes his hands on each other and looks around. “Coffee.” He decides, heading off toward the catering table.

"Javier, I have a few questions about the script." Tamara poses, tilting her head as she looks towards Javi. "Would you mind chatting about it for a few minutes?"

His eyes float to you hesitantly, but you just smile. “I need to check in with my boss and let her know about the…the very generous consultant offer. Come and find me when you’re done?”

"I will." He nods, not even noticing the raised brows and shared smiles the actors share. Both of you are laying claim to each other and it's honestly interesting to watch.

Your heart is pounding as you make your way back over to Leslie and Moira, feeling like you're about to deliver terrible news when it probably won't change much of anything. Several of the other docents had taken the spring off rather than work on the movie set, and the ones who did want to be there for the film had had to fight for shifts.

"So how did your tour go?" Leslie asks, a small smirking smacks of smugness on her face. She had wondered if the writer of the script had a little crush on you when she finally put two and two together today. He was the same man who had been obviously looking for you when he asked about a personalized tour, describing you to a T.

"It was good." If you were glowing any more, you would be a lamppost. You're sure of that. But you can't help it in the least. "It was really great. Everyone is super nice."

"Especially your writer?" Moira asks with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

"What is his name?" Leslie asks, wondering if the two of you had actually had a conversation that is more than just longing glances and flirtatious banter. Both of you seem smitten, almost like you are soulmates.

"Javier." Even saying his name lights you up a little more, but you correct yourself a moment later. "Javi."

"Javi." She hums, nodding. "He looks like a Javi." She admits with a grin. "I didn't know if you had a stalker when he came in a few months ago and asked for you. Didn't know your name, but described you."

"We hadn't gone so far as to exchange names until today," you admit, practically biting your lip to keep your grin from growing even wider. "We had met twice before. He came in several times when he was writing the film, apparently."

"I knew that he had come in several times. I remember seeing him. Honestly? I was hoping he wasn't creepy, especially when I thought he kept coming back to look for you. I didn't let you know in case. I didn't let him know your schedule." In hindsight, she should have told you, but she is kind of a momma bear towards her docents. Protective.

"We appreciate that you take care of us, believe me." From time to time there are creepy guests who make the docents and other staff uncomfortable, so it's good that Leslie always keeps an eye out. The well-dressed Midwestern blonde looks unassuming but packs a wallop when she's displeased. "But Javi is very sweet. He's..." A dreamy sigh settles in your chest and you break out laughing. "I'm horribly smitten, guys. I'm sorry. I can't even pretend otherwise."

Moira's brows shoot up. "I knew you had a crush, but this— giirrrrrrl." She tilts her head. "You're acting like that man is your soulmate."

"Oh no." Another laugh escapes you, but this one isn't as big or full. "I don't think I could get that lucky."

“You don’t?” She scoffs doubtfully but she doesn’t press. Even if you don’t have shared scars with this man, it’s the most interested you’ve been with anyone in a long time. “Although I’m really fucking jealous that you got to breathe the same air as Alex Powell.”

"Actually, um...come to that." Looking apologetically between Moira and Leslie, you face your boss with the bravest and most simultaneously plaintive expression you can muster. "The production team has...invited me to fill a position." One which you can't understand why Leslie herself isn't filling, but maybe they asked her and she had to say no to...you know...run the museum. "They've asked me to be their on set historical consultant."

Leslie bites her lip, honestly amused that you are looking surprised by that offer. You are one of the most knowledgeable docents she has, probably that she’s ever had. “What do you think about that?” She asks seriously. “That could mean wildly different working hours.” She reminds you. “There’s going to be a lot of night filming.”

"I don't mind a change of hours. I mean...when am I ever going to get another chance to be on a movie set?" Still, you're twisting your fingers around each other nervously and wringing your hands. "I'd like to accept, if it's alright with you? I mean, you're my boss and in no way do I want to leave the museum. Tours are on hiatus until filming is finished anyhow, and if I take a leave of absence then you could give more docents hours being set supervisors." It was the job of the docents on set to watch over the house and protect it during filming. To basically be bodyguards for the house and always keep a watchful eye on things.

“I think that you would still be able to keep your hours here.” She says after a moment. “But it wouldn’t include overtime. Just your normal work week.” She shrugs. “Have they discussed pay?”

"Not yet. I assume I'll have to meet with someone from the studio and sign whatever contract they use for consultants." Not that you have any idea what any of that will mean, but you're eager to find out.

Moira, for her part, grins and hugs you to her side. "Fancy job and a fancy guy. Look at you!"

“That means that I will need you to step up as head docent.” Leslie reminds Moira with a smile. “Do you have any problem with that?”

“I will do my best to live up to it.” Moira agrees, though she knows she doesn’t have as much experience as you. Though she has worked at Hazelwood longer, you’ve been in museum work in general for more time and have a stronger academic background than she does. But she also knows that if Leslie thinks she can do it, then she shouldn’t be second guessing her own abilities.

"You will do wonderfully." She has faith in that, although she knows that she will also be around. She's protective of the house and interested in the movie that is being filmed here.

“It sounds like we’re all going to have a hell of a spring and summer on our hands.” You observe, eliciting laughs from the other two women.

Javi is discussing the script with Tamara and Scott when you walk back over. Listening to the actress seriously and contemplating her ideas. “Why don’t I write the pages, and you can see if it fits the character?” He asks, willing to take the changes and see. “Run through both and see which one you like better?” That is directed towards Scott, who knows what the director is looking for.

“If we can get it done over the weekend, we’ll test it.” Scott agrees. “Sally will be in tomorrow, she had one more producers she was meeting with today.” He checks his watch, checks his phone, and in the process of moving around spots you. “Do I need to talk to your boss for you?” He asks, seeing that you look nervous.

“Oh! No. It’s all set. Whatever contract you need me to sign, I’ll look over when it’s ready. But Leslie has no problem with the arrangement.”

“Good.” Javi knows the production will be fair. One of the reasons he was excited to work with this studio is because they have a good reputation.

“Good.” Scott agrees, clapping you in the shoulder and going off in the opposite direction.

Javi sees the confusion on your face and laughs. "Don't worry." He assures you. "There will be a contract brought around to you. It will be fair."

Javi is sitting beside Tamara, one leg crossed over the other and looking like the most relaxed and picturesque god of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s not the contract that has you confused in this moment, it’s wondering how you got so lucky that he could actually be interested in you.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Tamara offers, flashing you a wink and a grin as she gets up to scoot away.

Javi smiles happily as you slide into the seat that Tamara vacates. Happy that you are going to be on set for the duration. He knows that he will be here too, already asking if he could have a space to set up his equipment instead of working from home like he had originally anticipated. "Are you happy to be asked to work on the movie?" He asks curiously. "You will be listed in the credits."

“It’s all a little surreal,” you admit, perched on the edge of the chair like you’re afraid it might get swept out from under you at any second. “I always dreamed about working in Hollywood. I mean who doesn’t at some point? But I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? Same.” He laughs quietly. “I had dreams, but with my family….” He frowns slightly and shrugs it off. “It was not possible until a few years ago. I was just obsessed with film. Movies. The magic and wonder of it all.”

“I’m sorry your family wasn’t supportive.” You shift in your seat to face him better and feel your heart leap up into your throat almost instantly. You could have sworn you saw the flicker of something above the line of his loafer but it can’t be.

He’s always uncomfortable when talking about his family. Shifting slightly in his seat and moving his ankle to rest on his knee. “That is the past.” He offers with a small smile. “I look towards the future.”

“I—I’m—I’m really sorry, but…” With your pulse pounding blood so loudly in your ears that it has drowned out your thoughts. “Your ankle—?” Clear as day now, the vertical scar on the inside of his ankle that curves ever so slightly at the top like a Shepard’s crook is exposed for anyone to see.

It can’t be. Can it?

He frowns for a second before he follows your eyes to his leg and he nods. “Oh.” It’s an old scar, not red or angry. Just a silvery distortion of his skin. “Old injury.” He explains. “I fell out of an olive tree when I was younger.” He was pushed out, by Lucas, but he doesn’t talk about that. “The old iron fencing around the base wasn’t kind.” He adds, lifting his pant leg so you can see it properly.

The strangled sort of hiccupping sound you make is barely smothered by your hand flying to your lips, but the water rising up in your eyes can't be disguised. "A-and...and...how long ago was that?" It's impossible, and yet here it is right in front of you. A mark you know as well as you know any other shape in the world.

Javi told his head curiously, surprised by your reaction to his scar. “About twenty years ago.” He murmurs cautiously. “I was old enough to know better. Why?”

"I—" You could explain. You could. But words have utterly failed you in this moment. This moment that has you reaching to unzip your right boot and pull your sock away from your ankle to expose the very same shepherd’s crook scar on your own skin.

Javi’s confused smile quickly slides into a frown. Tugging his lips down as his eyes widen. Shock making his mouth hang open and he slides out of his seat to his knees in front of your leg. Looking up at you for a moment to confirm you aren’t playing a prank on him. Then looking down and slowly reaching for your ankle to rub his thumb over the scar that matches his. He doesn’t care about the short, stubbly leg hair where you obviously haven’t shaved in a few days. Too entranced by the rippled skin that is smoother than his own since your skin wasn’t ripped open but matches his in every way. “You-“ His eyes light up and he exhales roughly. “You are my soulmate.”

"Do you..." Dry sobs stick in your throat, but the ecstatic warmth of his touch to your skin is its own answer. "Do you...have a tattoo of a blue morpho butterfly on your ribcage?"

He lets go of your ankle and starts to pull his button up shirt out of the waistband of his pants. Pulling it up to expose his right side. The perfect little butterfly at the top of his ribcage showing against his skin.

The whole rest of the room has gone silent around you, but neither you or Javi has noticed in the least. The whole rest of the world might have ceased to exist and you would never have known the difference. "This is unbelievable..." you breathe, reaching out to touch his skin with the same reverence and gentle care than he caressed your ankle.

“You- you - when did you get this?” He asks seriously, voice barely above a whisper.

"Eight years ago." Please let it be true, please let it be true...

He nods, his smile starting to stretch his face. “May, right?”

"Right." All at once the water spills over, two tears streaking down your cheeks. "Oh my god..."

“I cannot believe it.” He gasps, reaching for your cheek and wiping away your tears before he frowns. “Unless….you don’t like that?” He asks, wondering why you are crying.

"Like it?" A disbelieving laugh blows the entire thought away and you take his hand in yours. "I'm overjoyed."

“Fantastic.” He allows himself to be happy. To show it on his face and he beams. “That’s fantastic.”

“Can I…” It all sort of washes over you in a wave of too many things to parcel them all out from each other. “Can I…Give you a hug or something? I don’t even know what comes next. I just…I can’t believe it.”

“I want to kiss you.” He confesses. Now understanding why he was so drawn to you. You were like the flame to his moth. He couldn’t resist your pull.

"Thank god," you almost burst out laughing, barely containing the sound. "I wasn't sure if that was too much to ask for."

It’s like a scene in a movie, you are still laughing as he cups your head in his hands and lunges forward. Kissing you with joy and elation, groaning immediately when your lips touch his.

It isn't as though you've never been kissed. Kissed well, even. But this leaves every other good kiss so far behind that the trail of dust would stretch for miles. The warmth and welcome of him is all consuming, to the point that you nearly slide out of your seat just to get closer to him and sink farther into the kiss.

He loses all concept of time, of space, as he kisses you. Everything has faded into the background or completely disappears. Wondering at how right this feels.

It’s only when you come out of it — breaking the kiss for air and barely open your eyes to be able to look your soulmate in the face again — that you realize that everyone else in the room has erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause.

Javi starts to blush, looking around the room sheepishly and then back at you. Starting to giggle and he leans in to kiss you again. “My soulmate.”

"My soulmate." The word sounds so incredible breathed against his lips.

“Let’s get married.” Javi blurts out impulsively, grinning at you.

The rush of your heartbeat rockets through the roof, but you cling to him and some sort of ecstatic, nearly crazed laugh crosses your lips. "Yes." No hesitation. No worries. No second guessing. Just the absolute certainty that this is meant to be.

“Yes?” He is almost in disbelief and then you nod, cupping his face and kissing him back. “Yes!” He shouts and leaps up to drag you up and spin you around the room. “We are getting married!”

Gasps and more applause are the least of it, as it seems that everyone in the ballroom crushes in around the both of you in a flurry of excitement. Questions come from all angles, but you can barely hear them. can barely process any of it. It's a whole world just swirling around you when all that matters is him.

It’s only the sound of others cheering that brings him back down to reality. Making him turn and look at the cast, crew and production team clapping and grinning. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and turns back to you, his forehead pressed against yours. “We have made a scene.” He hums, smiling.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, still giggling softly in his arms. “Not at all.”

“You don’t?” That makes him chuckle happily. “That’s good.”

Moira and Leslie are practically in giggling tears to your left, ready to swoop in and hug you into oblivion and Tamara looks like she’s ready to cry too.

“What?” She huffs when Jason prods her. “It’s so romantic!”

“Romantic, yes.” He rolls his eyes, “but what are we going to doooooo about it?” He’s secretly a big softie. “That means the walk through is done for the day. They are going to go get married.”

“So? I don’t mind ending early so soulmates can go get married.” In fact she’s positively gooey over the idea for about three seconds until she remembers herself. “Oh! Oh!! I can marry you!” Tamara crows, all but clapping with joy. “If you want me to, I mean! I got certified last year for my cousin.”

“Now that is an idea.” Leslie agrees with a growing smile. “We have almost everything we need right here.”

Javi knows that he would give you anything when you turn those wide, hopeful eyes on him. “Do you want to get married here?” He asks. “I don’t mind.”

“Is that okay with you?” If you’re being honest, you’ve dreamt of having your wedding here for just as long as you’ve worked at Hazelwood, but you would understand if he had something else in mind. “It’s fitting, really, isn’t it? Since we met here.”

"It is perfect." He would do anything to keep that look of absolute happiness on your face. "It will be part of our story, woven into the fabric of our lives."

“Do you really want to do it now?” The idea is so wonderfully romantic that you almost sigh. “Like tonight?”

His eyes shift back towards Leslie. "Can we make it happen?" He asks her. "Small, beautiful. Involving anyone and everyone who wants to participate?" He knows he doesn't have family and you've not mentioned any, so it is almost fitting that your friends and work family be involved. The cast and crew almost look giddy at the idea of contributing.

“Absolutely.” She kinds around at all the eager faces. “We have plenty of hands to help. You two go and get yourselves ready. Whatever you two need personally. We’ll take care of food, music, decorations, and everything else.” Your boss glances at her watch and flashes you a smile. It’s just the middle of the afternoon now, giving everyone plenty of time. “How does a seven o’clock wedding sound?”

“Does that work?” He asks you, not sure what you would want to happen before this wedding. “I will need to get you rings.”

“You need a ring too,” you remind him, with that glowing smile still in tact on your face. “We would need to find a boutique, I guess? It’s not like I have a wedding dress hanging around in my closet.” Some girls do. Dresses passed down from generation to generation. You’re not that lucky, unfortunately, and even if you were in better terms with your family…they’re all on the east coast anyway.

“A dress, yes, yes.” He nods enthusiastically and then he frowns. “I- the studio car brought me.” He looks over at Scott, who grins. “I think we can make some arrangements.” He offers, walking over with the director. “What do you think about filming some of this? Obviously we wouldn’t announce it now, but think of the press when the film is being released!” He practically has hearts in his eyes over the prospect.

The thought almost stuns you, but within seconds you’re shrugging your shoulders and looking up at Javi. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. It would be nice to have footage of the wedding.” Of marrying your soulmate.

“Javi?” His brows raise as he looks over at him. “Imagine the press junket. The curiosity ticket sales. People will flock to watch a movie that brought soulmates together.” Javi chuckles and nods. “Fine, but we get a copy of all of the film and we approve when it’s released and what is shown.”

“Deal.” Scott offers his hand to seal it, and is practically giddy when Javi shakes it.

“Do you have anyone you want to call?” You ask him quietly. “A friend you would want to stand up for you? Or family nearby?”

“I do have some friends.” He admits with a grin. “What about you?”

“She’s already here.” And standing maybe four feet away, at that. You look over to Moira with a grin. “You’re up for being a whirlwind maid of honor, right?”

��Of course!” Moira squeals and Alex grins as he slides up beside you.

“Why don’t you let me walk you down the aisle?” His eyes are serious, even when his tone and grin are silly. “It would be an honor to serve.”

Matching his playfully nonchalant expression, you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not sure. “I dunno, my man. That’s a big ask. I’m gonna expect you to have my back and be ready to step up when shit hits the fan. That sound doable?” The fact is, you don’t really know how your Mom would feel if she were here, or your brother, and your father died when you were just a teenager. So an offer from a new friend is as good as any other you’re going to get.

His brows pull together and he purses his lips seriously. “Absolutely.” He huffs, nodding. “I’m here for at the fan hitting shit.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna go for a walk together tonight.” It’s just about the most casual way you could ever decide such an important thing, but there is something almost brotherly about the way he’s warmed up to you. Once he knew you weren’t going to fall at his feet, he seemed to instantly decide you are his friend.

“Awesome.” He perks up and throws his arm around you. “I’ve got a suit in my car.” He winks at Javi playfully. “Never know when I’m going to meet my soulmate.” He jokes, knowing full well it’s just that he had picked up his dry cleaning and his agent always wants him to have dress clothes on hand in case. Just in case.

“For your sake, I hope they turn out to be a very energetic person,” you tease, but being your attention back to Javi quickly. “We have a lot to do in just as couple of hours.”

“You two go, get all the stuff you need and we will be waiting.” Alex unwraps his arm from around you as Jason comes up and shrugs. “While I can’t do much – what’s your favorite flowers?” He asks.

Flowers sounds like a hell of a lot to you, and you look to Javi for confirmation. "I don't mind what they are, but I think they should be white. Right?"

“Whatever color you want.” Javi tells you indulgently. “It doesn’t have to be white.”

"Really?" That surprises you, and you feel like you have to check with him before you actually give a real answer.

“Do you want the flowers to be white?” He asks, frowning slightly as he wonders if he has misspoken. “It is beautiful. But colors are beautiful as well if you want a bright arrangement.”

"I actually really like Gerber Daisies..." A flower you were always told was childish and unserious. How can a flower have a maturity level? "The big, colorful ones? I think they're beautiful."

“Then you should have Gerber Daisies.” He can’t call them to mind right away, but he is sure they are stunning. “Jason?” He looks over to him. “Can you find her the most beautiful Gerber daisies?”

"On it." He promises. It's not a well-known fact, since little about him is well known at all, but he grew up in and around his parents' florist business. He can definitely do a daisy wedding bouquet. "It'll be beautiful."

“Does that work for you?” Javi asks as he looks back at you in complete adoration.

"Absolutely." Honestly, the fact that everyone is pitching in so quickly and willingly is magical on its own. Everything else is a beautiful bonus.

“Good.” He grasps your hands and brings them up to his lips to kiss the back of them. “Shall we go? Get what we need?”

You and Javi head out of the museum – thanking Scott for the offer of a ride, but you have your car. This is something that you want to be able to do in private, and for you that means time that is only spent between you and your soulmate.

It might not be a flashy car, but she's gotten you through thick and thin, so when you climb in beside him you let out a contented little hum. "There's a soulmate boutique in downtown. They say they have everything a couple needs but...maybe you have someplace in mind that you would rather go? It's your call." Though it calls itself a boutique, the place is more like an emporium. Couples who want to get married quickly aren't looking to run all over the place to get what they need, so it's more or less a one-stop shop for wedding wear.

“Call.” His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone. “Yes, that’s fine. I need to make a call. See if they are in L.A.” He looks over at you and grins. “My good friend. I want him to come.”

"You do that, I'll drive," you laugh, turning the key in the ignition and heading out of the museum parking lot.

“Thank you.” He quickly pulls up his contacts and selects Nick’s number. “Hopefully he isn’t filming somewhere.”

The line rings three times before it connects, and Olivia Cage's smooth, musical voice comes over the line. "Hello Javi!"

“Olivia!” He lights up when he hears her voice and he shifts in the passenger seat. “Please tell me you and Nick are in L.A.?” He begs, immediately launching into the reason for his call.

"Javi! Javi! Slow down, sweetheart." She laughs when he immediately starts talking to quickly for her to keep up with. "Nick and Addy are just watching a movie in the living room, let me hand the phone over."

There is a little commotion on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, Nick's voice comes over loud and clear. "Javi! We're at home tonight. Did you want to get together?"

“Could you be at Hazelwood Park in Santa Barbara by seven tonight?” Javi asks Nick, beaming through the phone. “I’m getting married.”

"You're get—you're getting married?!" Nick practically shouts on the other end of the line, and you laugh beside him with equal joy. "How?" Nick breathes. "Who? And of course we'll be there!"

“Well, I think the normal way.” He huffs out a laugh and almost looks like he will tear up for a second when he looks over at you as you drive. “My soulmate, Nick. I met my soulmate today. Not today. I’ve actually met her several times before but we— she has my scar. And I have her tattoo.” He rambles, knowing Nick will follow easily, they had spent far too much time together for him not to.

"The girl with the butterfly tattoo!" Nick howls with glee. He's seen that butterfly a hundred times -- whenever they go swimming – and knows how badly Javi has wanted to meet his soulmate. The instinct to love without restriction is at the heart of who Javi is. "Absolutely. Absolutely we'll be there. How can we help?"

“Just be there!” He laughs. “We are getting our rings and a dress for her now. The house should be set by the time we get back. They are filming my movie there.” He explains. “The cast and crew are going to be there too.”

"Do you need me to swing by your place and bring you a suit?" Nick offers, knowing Javi has a few particular pieces left in his wardrobe that he dearly loves.

Javi bites his lip and looks over at you. “Do you mind?” He asks you. “I have a suit that would be perfect.”

"Just tell me which one, buddy." Nick already has a key to Javi's house and knows his alarm code, so it's just a matter of swinging by. The place may technically be unfinished, but he's spent more time there than anyone besides Javi himself.

He looks over at you. “The royal blue Armani.” He decides. “Ferragamo loafers and the Givenchy cufflinks.”

It sounds extremely fancy and extremely expensive, and you hope that this boutique has something even half as spectacular for you so you can match him. Headed down the backroads into downtown, you reach for Javi's hand as you drive and give it a squeeze.

Nick assures him that he will get everything Javi needs and he’s quickly hanging up the phone. “That’s alright, right? Royal blue?” He asks, hoping he didn’t mess up.

"It sounds beautiful," you promise him.

“Shit.” He frowns. “I forgot to tell him to get a belt.”

"Don't worry," you urge him. "If that's the only thing we forget tonight, I think we'll be in excellent shape. But if it bothers you, I'm sure we can get one at the boutique. It won't be half as nice as the rest of your suit, but it will do the trick."

“You must pick out any dress you want.” His eyes light up happily. “So they have rings there? At this boutique?”

"Supposedly there is a jewelry department, a dress one, one for suits, all of it." You glance over at him while you drive, heart fluttering when you get a look at his perfect curls and sharp jaw. "One of the other docents went there when she met her soulmate last year."

“That is good.” Javi agrees easily, reaching for your hand and wishing it was your left. That one is firmly on the steering wheel. “If you do not like the rings there, we will find one you do like.” He promises. “I want you to love your rings.”

“I’m not picky,” you assure him, steering the car through the winding streets. “It’s more important to me that they come from you than what they are. So I’m sure we’ll be able to find something we both like.”

“You should be picky.” He frowns. “I hope you are wearing them for years. Until they are upgraded.”

“The only way I’m taking one of those rings off for more than a cleaning is if it’s getting passed on to our grandchild,” you tell him with absolute certainty. Your eyes flick back to the road as you move over a lane, the enormous boutique building is coming up on the right. “But I don’t think it will be hard to find something I love.”

“Grandchild.” He whispers the word, eyes bright at the mere mention of something so fantastical that he hadn’t been able to imagine it before now.

“Too soon?” You cringe slightly, wondering if talking about a family is the line that shouldn’t be crossed yet despite the fact that this is your soulmate and you’re on your way to buy things for your wedding.

“No.” He practically yelps the word and twists in his seat to vigorously shake his head. “I want kids.” He promises. “Lots of kids. I mean- as many as you want to have.” He amends and looks nervous, like you might shut down the idea completely if he doesn’t say what you want.

Carefully turning the car into the building’s lot and putting it in park, you take both of Javi’s hands and offer him the absolute softest smile you are capable of conjuring in this moment. Who hurt this poor, sweet puppy dog of a man that he looks so afraid to talk to you?

“I want a big family too,” you promise him. “But if we ever disagree on what we want, or I get too excited and jump ahead on something that you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, okay handsome? And I’ll tell you, too.”

“Yes.” He agrees quickly, relaxing because of your soft touch. It’s already soothing to him. “I have to confess…” he bites his lip. “I have had relationships before.” He confesses, hoping that you will not judge him too harshly for that.

“I have too.” A lot of people don’t. Preferring to wait for their soulmate. But you had been worried on that point. “I…didn’t want to meet you one day and know nothing.”

Something dark flashes in Javi’s eyes. Desire and want, twisted with the kind of possessiveness that springs out of love. “That’s good.” He rasps out, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

The change in his expression is fast enough that you miss it when you glance away for just a half a second to undo your seatbelt, but you lean back over again to kiss his cheek right after. “Let’s go inside?”

“Of course.” He smiles as he nods, squeezing your hand and hating to let it go when he has to unclip his own seatbelt and get out of the car. He will have to get you a new one, right away. Missing the garage that had been full of sporty, flashy cars for a moment, he waits for you to walk around to him since he is closer to the shop door.

Your hand slips into his again with ease, and the beat that your heart skips is made up for when you both hurry inside the building, eager to start getting ready for the night.

“I have never been in a soulmate boutique.” Javi confesses as he reaches forward to open the door for you. “You will have to show me where to go.”

“I can help with that.” A friendly woman with a blonde bob at the reception desk in the front of the store waves you both over. “My name is Cindy. How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Cindy.” Javi holds your hand proudly and guides you over to the desk. “This gorgeous creature is my soulmate and we are getting married today.”

"Well, congratulations." She smiles broadly, as though that isn't a sentence she hears once at day at bare minimum. "We can help with as much or as little as you need. Everything from rings to the dress to a suit, flowers, we can even book you in at the soulmate chapel in the Arts District."

"We have a venue and flowers," you tell her, feeling like you're vibrating beside Javi as you hold his hand. "And he has a suit. We'll both need rings and I need a dress."

"We can absolutely do that for you." Emerging from behind the desk, Cindy beckons for the two of you to follow her around a corner into the belly of the boutique. "Come right this way and we'll start with rings."

“Wait.” Javi pulls short, tugging on your arm. “When you pick your dress, should I see it?” He asks seriously. “I thought Americans believe it’s bad luck?”

"Some do." Though you shrug one shoulder. "I don't mind, though. If you don't."

He blinks in surprise and then smiles, lunging forwards to kiss your lips. “Yes. I want to see.” He admits with a grin. “I want to see all the dresses you could choose and see why you pick the one you do.”

"And I want your opinion," you tell him honestly. Every time he kisses you, you feel like you're melting, so the gooey smile on your face is pretty appropriate right now. "I want to know which one you like best, too."

“I would probably say buy them all.” He chuckles. “Wear one every year on our anniversary. Which will be today.” He beams again as he realizes that.

"Valentine's Day is the day we met." The reminder is sweet, soothing the ache of every lonely Valentine's past with the thought, and the two of you walk on together easily. The jewelry section of the store is immense, with a half dozen display cases full of beautifully glinting rings in all sizes, shapes, and styles.

“There are so many.” Javi chokes out, looking around the large, very brilliantly lit display cases. Every diamond sparkles and he knows you will find something you love. “We have a variety of options and price points.” She tells you both discreetly.

"My taste is fairly simple," you promise. He did offer to pay for everything, but you have no intention of going crazy. "And it doesn't have to be a diamond. There are plenty of beautiful stones."

He looks positively offended over that. “Did you know that diamonds are only the fifth most expensive gemstone per carat?” He asks you. “What is your favorite color?”

"It sounds silly." Another shrug, but at least you don't feel silly about this saleswoman seeing the two of you getting to know each other. She must certainly see couples getting married who have known each other far less. "But I like silver a lot."

“Silver.” He frowns slightly and tilts his head. “Would you like your setting to be silver?” He asks seriously.

"It doesn't have to be so serious, Javi," you assure him, smiling softly because this man just does that to you. You feel soft around him every second. "If you like yellow gold better, your ring doesn't have to match mine."

“I just want you to have exactly what you want.” Too often he had been accused of being too cheery and now you are telling him that he’s too serious. “I want to match your ring.”

"Is white gold, or silver, or what have you...is that okay with you?"

“Any of it.” He shrugs. His pinky ring is gold, but he will be fine with that. It’s on his right hand anyway.

"Then let's take a look." There are no shortage of choices, so who knows what you'll find. But you gravitate toward the nearest case with ease.

The two of you debate size, shape, gemstones. Laughing together as Javi points out one ring that is particularly hideous and at least you can both agree on that one to be marked off the list. Javi wishes for you to have something large and flashy and you want something more subdued.

It takes quite a bit of back and forth before you at least nail down a design. Three stone rings seem to be both of your favorite, and after a little more debating back and forth, Cindy disappears to another case on the other side of the jewelry section and comes back with a few options that have impressive center stones with dainty accents. It's the style of the design that you favor with slightly larger stones like Javi prefers. "They're not the biggest stones we have," she cautions, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed. "But they are stand out in terms of cut and quality. Very eye-catching."

“What do you think?” Javi wants you to love your rings, but he also wants to make sure that no one thinks that he is a pauper. It’s egotistical, but it’s the truth.

"They're still quite big." That isn't up for debate, but Javi seems to be quite certain that the cost is not an issue, and has barely looked at price tags so far. A conversation about his net worth is going to have to happen at some point because he's very clearly in a different tax bracket than you are, but that's for later. "The pear-shaped and the princess cut are the prettiest, I think...which do you like?"

“Whichever you want.” He would have chosen the emerald cut, but he would rather you have the choice. “I promise, I will not be upset.”

"Can I try on the pear?" Trying it on makes it seem to much more real, and Cindy hands you the ring carefully from its velvet stand.

"This will work with any band that you like, the setting is nicely elevated to compliment almost any choice." She tells you, but you barely hear it. it's like magic happens as that ring slides onto your finger, and you gasp quietly under your breath.

It’s perfect. Javi stares at the ring on your finger. The shape of the ring making your hand look even more elegant. The stone is not so overpowering that it looks like you are a child playing dress up with your mother’s rings. “Sweetheart?”

"I love it..." you breathe, hardly able to believe it's so perfect, and you look up at him with watery eyes. "The same way I love hearing you call me sweetheart."

He melts. His face softening into something akin to pure wonder as he looks down at the ring on your finger and he kneels down to one knee in front of you. “This is the one?” He asks softly, holding your hand and looking up at you. “Just like you are my one?”

“It’s perfect. Like you’re perfect.” Having a deeply romantic soulmate was always something you had wished for, but the way Javi seems to wear his heart of his sleeve is so much more than you ever could have hoped for.

He surges back to his feet to press his lips to yours. Ecstatic that this is happening. His soulmate.

Cindy only smiles, waiting for the moment to be enjoyed, before she begins to bring out bands for both of you. They rang from elaborate to simple, but she has a feeling this gentleman will prefer the elaborate.

“You should have this one.” Javi points to a band that is a solid circle of Princess cut diamonds to make up the surface. “Since you liked the princess cut solitaire too.”

"It's stunning." His flare for showy rings is very apparent, but in the moment you're so swept up that you forget to care. The gorgeous rings will be well loved and well cared for and that is what matters to you. "Do you want something ornate as well? Carved, or even with a diamond of your own?"

“What about this one?” He asks, pointing to a matching men’s ring. The circle of Princess cut diamonds is surrounded by the thick white gold band on either side.

The channel-set stones wink and shimmer in the bright store lighting, as if to say that completely agree with his choice. "A matching set," you agree with a nod.

It is a beautiful ring, but anything you choose he would be happy to wear. “Then I think that we have found our rings.” He picks it up and slides it on his finger to see how it fits and practically giggles with excitement when he sees a wedding band on his hand.

"I'll box these pieces up for you." Cindy offers, but pauses before gathering up the three-stone ring. "Unless you'd prefer to present your soulmate with her engagement ring now?" She offers, looking to Javi. She can easily just remove the tag and add it to the growing total. "I can retrieve the ring in her size from the case for you."

“Yes.” Javi decides instantly, beaming at you. “I want her to wear it out of the boutique.”

"Just one moment." She thought he might feel that way, and she disappears just only long enough to polish the ring and clip off the tag before bringing it back to him in its velvet box to be presented to you however he chooses. "I'll go and let the dress department know to expect you. Just move into the next room when you're ready," she tells you both with a sunny smile.

“I wish that there was something more romantic about this.” Javi confesses. “Imagine you are at your bench, sweetheart.” He decides, grinning at you. “Waves crashing all around you and the smell of the ocean hovering.”

"It's our bench now." It had been, to you, since that day before Christmas. You had spent too much time sitting there and thinking of him. Thinking of that day. Wondering if you would ever see him again.

“Our bench.” He agrees, beaming at you again as he guides you over to a bench that is not your bench, but it will substitute just fine. “Close your eyes.” He begs when he has you sat down.

You comply without hesitation, sitting up straight on the small bench with your hands on your knees. Life with Javi seems like it will have a certain flair for the dramatic – or at least special occasions will.

He’s sinking down to a knee again. This time with tears starting to form in his own eyes. This isn’t a movie. This is real life and it seems like he is finally getting his happily ever after. Murmuring your name softly, he smiles. “You are my soulmate.” He whispers. “The other half of my very existence. I have waited and wondered and dreamed about you my entire life and now you are here.” He swallows harshly as your eyes twitch. He opens the ring box and takes your hand. “I can’t live another day without you being my wife. Marry me. Marry me and make me complete.”

His voice is slightly choked, filled with emotion, and the tears that press against the back of your own eyes just from hearing it would surely be spilling over if your eyes were opening now. But since you've been instructed to keep them shut, you lean forward with your hands out and find his broad shoulders -- the pathway that bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. "The sooner the better," you promise him, with such a broad smile that even your soft promise comes out on a giddy giggle. "Now can I open my eyes to kiss you or are you going to come to me?"

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He had halfway expected you to open them when he asked the question, not expecting you to wait for his cue. “Open your eyes sweetheart.”

They are only open for a half second. Just long enough to lean all the way over to kiss him. But it's enough. It's all you need. It's all you need to be able to embrace this moment fully (and tearfully) with your soulmate as he slides your new engagement ring onto your finger just hours before you plan on marrying.

Javi sinks into the kiss, gathering you close and sighing against your lips happily until a discreet cough breaks through the fuzzy haze of love. “Pardon me.” Cindy smiles when he looks over at him. “The girls are pulling a number of dresses for you to try on.” She tells you.

“Thank you.” You’re not going to be embarrassed at all about the kiss. Not when you feel like you’ve waited three lifetimes to find this kind of joy and anticipation for the future.

Javi rubs his thumb over the ring happily and stands, pulling you up gently. “Time to pick out your dress.”

The girls as Cindy calls them, are two very sweet young women just a touch younger than you that run the dress department in this store. One blonde and one redhead, they are surrounded by a seeming sea of plush fabrics when you and Javi walk over together.

Javi’s eyes widen and he looks around in shock at all the styles, materials, laces. It’s so much that he wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.

"I think we're both a little spoiled for choice," you tell them, feeling very much like you agree with the awestruck and overwhelmed look on Javi's face. "Where would you recommend that we start?"

The girls are quick to start bringing out dresses to get a a sense of your style and preferences so they can match you up with the perfect dress.

Several are too revealing for you taste, and some are far too complicated in their designs. You're not looking to wear architecture on your wedding night, you want to be able to move. "Is there a such thing as a traditional dress without a train?" You ask, instantly feeling like you must be the pickiest person in the world for even asking. "I—I like to dance, that's all. And trains always look silly to me when they're bustled."

“No train.” Javi can agree with that and when you give him a questioning look, he nods in agreement. “I want you to have exactly what you want.”

"Does 'traditional' mean you're looking for a larger dress?" The chipper blonde asks, looking between both you and Javi. It's clear you're making the decision together. "Like a ballgown? Something with that princess feel?"

“She is a princess.” Javi immediately jumps into the idea feet first. “Better than any Disney character mister Walt Disney could think of himself.”

He loves it so much that you don't even consider not trying one on. "Let's see what a ballgown looks like." You agree, indicating one with a sweetheart neckline and lots of intricate lace that is hanging on the back of a dressing room door.

“You don’t have to pick something you think I will like.” He promises as they start to take dresses away and rush off to pull more. “This is your dress. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are.”

"I've never worn a ballgown." You bend down to lay a kiss on his lips before getting up to go into the dressing room. "It can't hurt to find out."

“You might hate it.” He snorts in amusement. “But it does fit the theme of the house.”

"I guess we're about to find out." Flashing him a broad smile, you disappear into the dressing room to tackle that great big, beautiful dress and see how it feels. It takes several minutes of finesse and manuevering with the help of one of the girls, but when you emerge you carefully school your reaction so you can see what Javi thinks first. The big bell of the gown's skirt is lighter than you expected but it has a seriously satisfying swish and you really do feel like fairy tale royalty.

“Magnificent.” Javi murmurs in awe, freezing mid turn as he stares at you. “You look- like a princess.”

“It’s huge.” Barely able to contain a giggle as your eyes widen, the mirror in front of you contains an image you barely recognize…but in the best way possible. It’s the version of you that you used to dream about. Fairy tales and all. So when you turn to look at Javi again, you’re almost as awestruck as he is. “It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” He tilts his head to the side and frowns as he looks over the dress again. “What is it missing?”

“It’s…a bit large.” You laugh, swinging your hips a little so the skirt imitates a large bell. “I feel a bit like I ought to be hung in a church in this thing.”

“So a smaller version of the skirt?” He asks. “Or do you want a form fitting dress?”

“Just a small ballgown, I think?” The question really goes to the two women helping you, but they are already moving to sort through what they have brought out. One has a halter and too-low neckline. One is encrusted with beading and jewels. One has large, poofy, sheer sleeves. None of them are quite right, but you try on a simple taffeta version of the silhouette. Just plain and simple. And that is nearly perfect.

Simple is generally how you like things, and this excursion into wedding dresses seems to prove it to you, but when you go out to show Javi, you can tell right away that he feels the same way you do. There is something missing.

“What about ivory?” The dresses have been separated by color and none of the ivory dresses have been chosen. “Or do you want pure white?” He wonders if it is a faux pas or if it’s just preference.

“Ivory could be good.” For that matter, it doesn’t have to be white for you to love it. But that is the easiest option.

“I have just the one.” The round-faced redhead promises, ushering you back into the dressing room. “Not too poofy, no train, fit for a queen.”

Javi stares at the display of accessories, biting his lip as he sees a tiara and he knows he wants you to wear one. It would be perfect. His princess.

There is a great deal of rustling and laughter and excited chatter coming from the dressing room, and when you emerge you’re wearing possibly the single most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen in real life — let alone most beautiful thing you have ever worn.

The silk jacquard fabric is luxurious and detailed without being extravagant or ostentatious. The simple corset bodice and Basque waist make you look as elegant as royalty. It has a full skirt for that princess affect but it isn’t so big that it makes it difficult to move, and best of all it feels right.

“What do you think?” You ask Javi, but frankly you’re dabbing away tears and it’s obvious how much you love the dress. This is your wedding dress.

The moment he sees the softness in your eyes, he knows you’ve fallen in love with it. You look like a scene from a movie. The big reveal of the princess at the top of the stairs where everyone turns and gaps in amazement and the prince at the bottom thanks his lucky stars that you are his. Which is what Javi is doing right now. The tiara in his hand, carefully removed from the display case, seems to perfectly match and he smiles. “It’s only missing this, princesa.”

The headpiece is made up of stars like something out of a painting you once saw in a history book, and it feels like such a silly thing to bend your head so he can set it in your hair (thank goodness you’re having a good hair day!) but it feels perfect. It feels extraordinary. And standing next to him is the first time you’ve truly felt extraordinary in your entire life.

You steal his breath when he steps back and looks at you. Tears instantly forming in his eyes and his chin trembles because he is so overwhelmed that this beautiful creature is his soulmate. It’s such a pure moment that not even his anxiety or self doubt could break through the euphoria.

“I hope those are good tears,” you half-chuckle through your own.

“The best.” He manages to choke out before reaching for your hands. “This is it, no? This is the one?” He turns you so you can look in the mirror at your reflection with the tiara on.

“I think this is it.” It’s so much more than you would have thought you wanted. It’s eye-catching and irrevocably meant to be the center of attention. But with him, you somehow don’t mind so much. As if having Javi there at your side was the piece you needed to keep you grounded and safe all along

"It is perfect." He promises, honestly believing that he will look underdressed beside you. "You are perfect." He amends with an indulgent smile before he nods. "We will take it." He announces to the sales girls. "But you need shoes underneath." His eyes light up mischievously. "What about those wedding sneakers I always see in movies?"

“Sneakers?” After all the bling and excess he’s picked out, your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like��tennis shoes?”

He laughs at your surprise. "High heels hurt, no?" He asks. "Tiaras and tennis shoes, you could start a trend!"

The easy, joyous laugh you share is so sweet and so unrestrained that it has to be punctuated with another kiss. “Would you find it odd if I said I like high heels?” You ask after. “I’ve been wearing them for work and things for a long time and I don’t mind them too much anymore. And they always look so beautiful.”

"Then you must find the most beautiful high heels to go with your dress." He insists indulgently. "Do you have a favorite brand? Louboutin? Manolo Blahnik? Bottega Veneta?"

Ahha. There it is. You think, as he starts listing off designers you could never afford in your wildest dreams. “I just…get the most comfortable heels off the clearance rack at DSW.”

"Comfortable." He understands that but he huffs slightly. "Get whatever shoes you love best." He urges you. "The price doesn't matter."

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” The best you can do is appeal to the two girls, and to Cindy, who has walked up to check on you in the meantime. “The only thing is…I always thought…you know how some brides wear blue shoes as their something blue? I always liked that idea.”

“Then I have the perfect pair.” Cindy gushes. “They are a pair I have lusted after forever.”

You give her your shoe size and she disappears into the shoe department to dig up her dream heel. In just a few minutes she returns to the pair of you with two boxes in hand. “They’re a little bit iconic,” she says sheepishly, opening up the top box. “These are the Carrie Bradshaw heels. Gorgeous even without the Sex and the City reference, but that sort of makes it fun in my opinion. They come in a royal blue and a light shade of sky.”

Javi recognizes the brand and he tilts his head as she opens them up. They are both gorgeous and he wonders if you will go for the bolder blue or keep it subtle under your dress. You might not even like the shoes at all.

"They're...gorgeous." The awestruck look on your face doesn't quite match your reaction to your dress, but it certainly is one that is both impressed and surprised. "Is this sort of what you had in mind?" You ask him, looking between the two shades of blue and the soft, wide brown eyes of your soulmate.

"This is deep blue, like the ocean when you look out over the cliffs." He muses as he touches on of the edge of one of the shoes. "This one..." he moves over to the light blue one. "It looks like a – a – I don't know..." He admits with a smile, looking back at you. "Which one do you like?"

"Well, when you put it like that." You touch the edge of the box holding the deeper blue shoes with your fingertips. "It has to be the ocean, doesn't it?"

“I think so, but….” He shrugs. “I don’t want you to just choose what you think I want.”

In the end, you try both pairs and decide on the lighter blue as a compliment to the inviting ivory of the dress. Star earrings are found that compliment the tiara Javi picked out, and it is all carefully packed up to be piled up in the trunk of you car and driven back to Hazelwood.

"Is there anything else you need?" You ask him when you climb back into the car together. There cant possibly be a single thing left you need, but you don't know what he could be missing aside from the suit that his friend is bringing for him.

“I think that we have everything.” He chews his lip and smiles at you. “Since it’s last minute, I asked if craft services could cater again.” He tells you, having looped the production team in on the text messages and Scott had talked to them and reported back that they had happily agreed. “It’s going to be mostly finger foods? Is that okay?”

"It could be nothing at all in a little soulmate chapel in the middle of nowhere and it would still be perfect," you promise him. "I only care that it's you."

“Then let’s go get married, sweetheart.” Javi beams as you start the car, ready to do just that.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi G #TUWOMT #the unbearable weight of massive talent #soulmate au

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