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shopinnersoul19 · 1 year

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Shop Inner Soul: The Best Place To Buy Gold Facial Kit For Women

A gold facial kit for women is a beauty product that contains a range of skincare items infused with gold particles and other beneficial ingredients. This kit aims to provide a luxurious and effective skincare experience, offering numerous benefits for the skin. In this article, we will explore the various components of a gold facial kit, the potential benefits it offers, and how to use it effectively for glowing and radiant skin.

A gold facial kit typically includes several items designed to be used sequentially. These may include a cleanser, exfoliator, gold gel or serum, gold face mask, and moisturizer. Each of these products plays a specific role in the facial routine, working together to enhance the overall appearance and health of the skin.

Cleanser: The first step in any facial routine is to cleanse the skin. A gold facial kit often includes a gentle cleanser that helps remove dirt, excess oil, and impurities from the skin's surface. This step prepares the skin for the subsequent treatments and ensures better absorption of the active ingredients.

Exfoliator: The exfoliator included in a gold facial kit helps to slough off dead skin cells, revealing smoother and brighter skin underneath. It may contain gentle granules or enzymes that effectively remove the buildup of dead skin cells, allowing the subsequent products to penetrate deeper into the skin.

Gold Gel or Serum: The star component of a gold facial kit is the gold-infused gel or serum. These products contain tiny particles of gold that are believed to have anti-aging properties, as well as the ability to rejuvenate and nourish the skin. Gold is known for its ability to stimulate collagen production, improve elasticity, and enhance skin radiance.

Gold Face Mask: The gold face mask is a luxurious and indulgent part of the facial routine. It is typically a peel-off or sheet mask infused with gold particles and other beneficial ingredients. The mask helps to further enhance the skin's hydration, firmness, and luminosity. It also promotes a soothing and relaxing experience, allowing for a moment of self-care.

Moisturizer: The final step in the gold facial routine is the application of a moisturizer. This helps to lock in the benefits of the previous steps and provide long-lasting hydration to the skin. The moisturizer in a gold facial kit may be enriched with ingredients like hyaluronic acid, vitamins, or botanical extracts to nourish and protect the skin.

Now, let's explore some potential benefits of using a gold facial kit:

Anti-Aging Properties: Gold particles have antioxidant properties that can help neutralize free radicals, which are responsible for premature aging. Regular use of a gold facial kit may help reduce the appearance of fine lines, wrinkles, and age spots, promoting a more youthful complexion.

Increased Collagen Production: Gold has been shown to stimulate collagen production in the skin. Collagen is a protein responsible for maintaining the skin's structure and elasticity. By boosting collagen synthesis, a gold facial kit can help improve the firmness and elasticity of the skin, reducing sagging and promoting a more lifted appearance.

Improved Blood Circulation: The massaging action during the application of a gold facial kit can help improve blood circulation to the facial tissues. This increased blood flow brings more oxygen and nutrients to the skin cells, resulting in a healthy and radiant complexion.

Hydration and Moisture Retention: Many gold facial products contain moisturizing ingredients that help hydrate the skin and improve moisture retention. This can be especially beneficial for individuals with dry or dehydrated skin, as it helps restore the skin's natural moisture barrier and prevent water loss.

Brightening and Radiance: Gold particles in facial products can impart a subtle golden glow to the skin, giving it a radiant and luminous appearance. This can be particularly beneficial for dull or lackluster skin, as it helps revive its natural radiance and vitality.

To make the most of a gold facial kit, it is essential to follow these steps:

Start by cleansing your face thoroughly with the cleanser provided in the kit. Gently massage it onto damp skin, then rinse with lukewarm water and pat dry.

Apply the exfoliator to your face and neck, using circular motions. Be gentle to avoid irritation. Rinse off with water and pat dry.

Take a small amount of the gold gel or serum and apply it evenly to your face and neck. Massage it into the skin using upward motions until fully absorbed.

Open the gold face mask and carefully apply it to your face, avoiding the eye and lip areas. Leave it on for the recommended duration, typically 15-20 minutes, or as specified in the instructions. Once the mask is dry, gently peel it off or remove the sheet mask.

Finish off by applying the moisturizer provided in the kit. Massage it onto your face and neck until fully absorbed.

It is important to note that individual results may vary, and it is always advisable to perform a patch test before using any new skincare product, especially if you have sensitive skin or known allergies.

In conclusion, a gold facial kit for women offers a luxurious and indulgent skincare experience with potential benefits such as anti-aging, improved collagen production, hydration, and skin radiance. By following a proper facial routine and using the products as instructed, you can enjoy a glowing and rejuvenated complexion. Remember to consult with a dermatologist or skincare professional if you have any specific skin concerns or conditions before incorporating a gold facial kit into your skincare regimen. To buy the best Gold Facial Kit For Women Visit us @ Shop InnerSoul

#Gold Facial Kit For Women

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phootra · 1 year

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#facial kit #lotus products #rose gold facial kit #beauty products #personal care #phootra #beauty

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blackcoffeemedia · 2 years

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#natural skincare brands #affordable organic skin care #moisturising body lotion for oil skin #best gold facial kit #spf 50 sunscreen for face #gold facial kit price list

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florozoneproduct · 3 months

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Rediscover Radiance: Florozone's Natural Gold Facial Kit Price in India

Unlock the secret to luminous, youthful skin with Florozone's natural gold facial kit, an indulgent skincare ritual that rejuvenates and revitalizes your complexion. Let's delve into the transformative benefits of this facial kit and explore why it's worth every penny of its price in India.

Visit us-https://floro12.blogspot.com/2024/03/rediscover-radiance-florozones-natural_29.html

#gold facial kit price list #gold facial kit price in india

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writingoddess1125 · 8 months

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My Shooting Star

A Request I received on Ko-Fi, Hope you enjoy Darling!

Shanks x FemReader x Mihawk

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Sadness, depression, mention of injury.

Request more stories on Ko-Fi

You stepped back, a bit frightened by his sudden forwardness and general excitement he possessed. He raised a brow in confusion at this as he took a step back.

You're my Shooting Star...

Shooting Star...

Pain... it was so painful..

Black waves, Crushing Boulders, Dark skys and purple sand. That is the first things you saw when you opened your eyes.

Your body ached and your lungs burned from salt water that you forces from your lungs. Pulling yourself up slowly from the icy water you saw that you were in a foreboding place like it had been cursed to be dreary and bleak, wincing as a sharp pain shot through the back of your head as you tried to focus your gaze around you but the darkness wasnt helping.

Rolling up you see a shadow, like a castle just up the beach.. your aching head screaming that it was shelter and possibly help. Crawling through the sand you make it to the steps of the castle, climbing the dark cobblestone and opening the massive doors.

Collapsing in the hallway you felt your body burning in pain, like you had scrapped your knee but over most of your body.

You didn't even hear the sound of footsteps approaching you. That was till a sword was brought to your neck, The steel warmer then the chill from your bones as you looked up. There standing was a man, in a open white shirt, gold cross hanging from his neck and a stoic face that was chiseled just like the black facial hair and combed back darkness on his head.

"How dare you break into my home.. State your business" He hissed, not lowering his blade as you stared up at him from the ground.

"I-I need help.." You managed out, before coughing up more water from your lungs onto his floor. Him cringing at the sight.

He stared at you before lowering his blade and returning it to his back. His eyes looking over you before sighing and holding a hand to you- which you accepted and finally stood up on uneasy legs.

Supporting most of your weight with ease, He lead you to what looked to be a study and set you a bit ungratefully into a large chair. Sitting across from you with a heavy scowl on his face-

"I am Dracule Mihawk- How did you find my home?" He questioned, his eyes narrowed dangerously at you as you sat in the chair shivering from the wet clothes.

"I-I don't know? I just washed on shore" You admit, the man's yellowed eyes locking onto you as his brow raised.

"You are dressed in pirate gear- What crew did you sail with?" He questioned but you gave another 'I don't know' answer.

"What is your name?" He asked, Staring at you as he poured you a cup of tea. Your head hurt... and you winced when you tried to think... but nothing came up.

"I-I don't remember?.. Honestly I don't remember anything.. I judt remeber waking up on that sand out there" You admit, rubbing the back of your head once more and wincing. Mihawk standing up and leaning over to take a look at the back of your head, seeing a horrendous wound there which he attributed to your memory loss.

"It looks like you have a head wound...Ill return soon"

Standing up suddently he went off to grab the first aid kit quickly he began to clean the back of your head.

He asked you basic questions, ones you didn't know the answer to in any way which he seemed to forgive.

"May I see whatever else is hurting?" He questioned, You nodding and pulling away the wet cut up fabric of your coat and shirt underneath. The fresh air adding a cold sting to your body as you saw the harsh twisting wounds thay decorated your body, like your body had been sent through a grater or rubbed raw with a pumice stone. Mihawk winced at the sight, sighing as he saw many tattoos that had been on your body was clearly removed by your treatment of the sea.

"Looks like the sea was not kind to you.." He whispered softly as he set to work cleaning you up. Talking to you about nothing as he tried to distract you as he worked, picking bits of coral and stones from your flesh. Once it was all over and you were wrapped in bandages Mihawk gave you a shot of a strong alcohol to help the pain. He found some leftovers which he quickly fed you as well and gave you some more booze to help dull the pain through your body. Offering some clothes to change into as well as he helped you to your feet again.

"You can stay here to rest.." He said softly, guiding you himself to a nice bedroom were you could rest- That night dreams of a red ship filled your mind, sailing with blurred faces of people you had once knew and the warmth of someone kissing your face.. it was bittersweet and you didn't know why.

It had been a few weeks you'd spent with Mihawk and Perona. They were so nice to you, and in truth you had started to really like Mihawk. He was quiet sure but he was so kind as well, He helped your wounds and would keep a careful eye on you. You saw it and maybe because you didn't know his true identity you saw a sparkle of enjoyment everytime you came to speak to him-

In that time Mihawk and you had found a name for you, (Y/N)- You two having spent some time in the library together as Perona came in and out screaming if it was cute or not. Finally finding one that suit you and you liked hearing yourself being called by.

However it seemed the quiet bliss you were experiencing was soon to be disrupted once more, as a storm rolled in much like the one that had brought you and a massive knock on the door brought Mihawks attention from the chess match he shared with you.

Telling you to wait you watched him leave the library you two were playing in- It was almost 30 minutes of silence. Eventually standing up to go see what was happening, You didn't hear any fighting or anything but could see that the fireplace in the Study had been lit and light was pouring out. Silently walking over you took a peak inside, Hearing a small conversation spoken between two men.

There a red haired man sat, talking to Mihawk in a stressed way as he ran a single hand over his tired face. He reminded you of a weathered dog, Kindness still in those eyes but a loyalty and fierceness that said he had seen a lot. Mihawk caught you staring and nodded at you.

"Ah, (Y/N)- this is Shanks" Mihawk said calmly as he gestured for you to enter further, The red haired man standing to greet you.

He turned to stare at you with wide eyes, a wide smile breaking over his face as he rushed to you suddently. His hand reaching out to cup your cheek in affection.

"Starlight! You're alive I'm so glad my Love I was worried sick for you!"

"Starlight? It's me Shanks- You know me" He emphasized.

"I-Im sorry but... I don't remeber you" you say softly, his eyebrows raising in surprise at this

He tried... for weeks he stayed on that island, bringing foods he claimed you like, songs you used to love, and books that used to inspire you. Non of which held the value or interest you apparently once had for them-

His face washing in worry as the realization whatever marks had been on your body had long since been washed away by the new scars that decorated your body. He swallowed thickly as he took a shaky breath, Mihawk grabbing Shanks shoulder gently.

"Shanks... Let us talk about this privately. I do not think it is fair to frighten them like this" Mihawk said softly, the Red head opening his mouth ready to protest but looked at you once more. Recognizing the shine of fear in your eyes.. so he nodded softly at this. Mihawk waving you to leave and go to bee, which you did and glanced back to see the red hair man looking to Mihawk as fresh tears ran down his cheeks... your heart aching at the sight even if you didn't understand.

The next morning when you went for breakfast you saw everyone was already there, Perona seeing you up and quickly dismissing herself back to her room. Which ment this wasn't good.. Taking a seat Shanks started talking immediately, you not even able to take a sip of your tea.

"Starlight- er sorry (Y/N) I wanted to apologize for how I approached you last night.. But I wanted to explain... See you were a member of my Crew and.. my partner" He started, you feeling a wave of embarrassment and unease hitting you at his words. Mihawk taking a sip of his tea as he clearly wanted this to be as civil as possible.

"However not long ago we were in a terrible battle, a storm hitting the ship before you were swept overboard. Me and the crew trying to find you but was unsuccessful and even I was separated from my ship in the disaster.." He mumbled, clearly unset from the situation for himself as well.

"Mihawk has taken his position as your Ward of sorts.. and well" Shanks hesitated clearly unsure how to proceed so the Warlord stepped in.

"He wants to stay here, see if he can jostle your memories in a few weeks and if by the time he needs to leave if you'd join him" Mihawk said calmly, fear hitting your heart at the request... you looked at both men, Mihawk of course keeping his eyes lowered to not sway your opinion while Shanks stared at you with pleading eyes.

"Okay.. I'll give it a chance" You say softly and give a hesitant nod. The red head smiling brightly at this.

"I'm glad (Y/N)- I promise it will be fine" He said in a reassuring way, however you felt unease in your soul as you took a bite of your now cooled breakfast.

Mihawk keeping a close eye on Shanks to make sure he didn't throw you in a panic or go too far in wishing for you to remember him.

You bit your bottom lip, your stomach churning at the choices laid before you. A man who swore you loved him, vs the man you found yourself falling in love with.. a past that you had lost or a future you could see.

You however just felt guilty- It was like being told you were someone's fantasy but not living up to their ideas.. you didn't know who this 'Starlight' was, What she liked or what she did. You wanted to help Shanks and make him feel better but when something just didn't click for you, the disappointment in his eyes were unmistakable.. many nights you would go to Mihawks room and cry, letting him hold you as you admitted your guilt of hurting the stranger and seeing his broken heart.

Clearly after your tearful cries for far too many nights, Mihawk had called off the trial between you and Shanks. Deciding it was best to make a decision now.

Gathering in the Study you sat awkwardly in a chair as Shanks and Mihawk went back and forth, bickering about if they should let you continue humoring Shanks and leaving with him or stay with Mihawk and live your life as (Y/N).

"Shanks this is ignornat- You can't force her to remember and you are putting to much pressure on her" Mihawk stressed, Shanks glaring at his peer.

"She needs to remember- You are giving in too quickly and when she wakes up she's going to regret ever-"

"Enough!" You finally spoke drawing both their attentions.

"I think this is my choice" You spoke firmly, both men growing quiet as Mihawk nodded in respect of your wish and Shanks doing the same.

"I'll always cherish the memories with you" Shanks said softly, even though there was a smile on his lips you could see the heartbreak in his eyes. Like he was mouring and saying goodbye to a passed love one.

You look to Shanks, he had been kind to you despite everything... but something said it wasn't right- Not him but you... you weren't who he wanted, He wanted Starlight not (Y/N)- you lowered your gaze and sighed softly.

"I-I'm sorry Shanks.." You whisper softly, and it was almost like you could hear his heart shatter at your words. Glancing up to see his eyes blank and glossed over, shock clearly in his system as he slowly lowered himself down into the chair. His movements almost robotic in nature as he grabbed the bottle of wine Mihawk had set out and pulled it close to his chest like a child would pull a teddy bear.

"Come (Y/N).. let us retire..." Mihawk said gently as he wrapped a gentle arm around you and guided you out of the room. Shanks still seated there, still like a statue and the second the door closed behind you and Mihawk you could have swore you heard a broken sob.

Shanks stayed locked away for 3 days and nights. He didn't step out once from your knowledge and you saw plates being left at his guest room door but never touched. Once again guilt eating your soul.. however on the 4th day he emerged, speaking to Mihawk before returning to his room.

"Mihawk?... what's going on?" You question, Seeing the man grab his hat and coat.

"Shanks has agreed to leave the island. He requested a temporary ship to set sail.. he leaves this evening" He said calmly- Your heart clenching at hearing this, but you nodded non the less... you spent the day in your room, in a whirlpool of unease and pain, Yet confuses by your feelings that was set before you. Snapping out of your feelings only when Mihawk knocked on your door to tell you it was time.

Standing at the pier you wait next to Mihawk, Shanks had yet to appear.. after 30 minutes the man stepped out, his eyes had bags under them and his stubble was unruly having clearly been depressed to do much. Shanks walked to the two of you and smiled softly at you as he patted your shoulder tenderly.

He stepped back from you, Smiling still as he looked to Mihawk who was still behind you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Take care of her Hawkeye, See she's a a special one. Like a real life Shooting Star"

'Shooting Star-... My Shooting Star'

A sharp pain hit your heart, like hearing that Nickname suckerpunched your stomach... you swore you heard it before. However shook it off quickly as you watched the Red-Head turn away from you the final time and walk to the ship.

Uncertainty filling your chest as you watch Shanks turn and leave. A ache in your chest like your heart had been broken at the sight and tears filled your vision- Like a loss you could never hope to understand.

Or remember.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x shanks #mihawk one piece #op mihawk #one piece shanks #shanks one piece #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks x mihawk #shanks x y/n

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 1 year

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Real or not real

Minho x fem!reader

Set partway through scorch trials (movieverse)

Not the hunger games clickbait oop

Summary: they fake a relationship. thats it. just wanted to try the fake dating trope

Warnings: language, minor injury (some blood, but not heavily described)

You lean your weight against a wall, panting tiredly.

You've just hiked through pitch-dark tunnels and over a sand dune to get to the city, and you have no idea how to find your friends, or Marcus.

You and Minho, like Thomas and Brenda had missed the ziplines when WCKD raided the warehouse.

As the building crumbled around you, the four of you had leapt down an elevator shaft, and been separated by rubble at the bottom.

Brenda had told you and Minho to go out through some tunnels behind.

Which leads you to now.

"We need to-" you let out a cough, and your throat feels paper-dry. "We need to find the others."

"Yeah," says Minho. "Shuck."

"What?"

You turn to see Minho craning his neck, trying to look at his own shoulder.

You walk closer and see a gash about as long as your hand, cutting from over his shoulder to a little way down his back.

"Shit," you mutter. "Okay, we're gonna get some help, and then find everyone."

"Sounds like a plan," he responds.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, before immediately regretting it.

"Never mind, stupid question." You shake your head.

"For your information, it hurts like hell," he tells you. "Luckily, I'm a shuckin' badass."

You snort. "Alright tough guy, let's go."

⭒----⭒

You get into town and see a few people milling about.

Everyone is covered in dirt and sweat and wearing tattered clothing, with grim facial expressions, so you and Minho fit right in.

"Hey, do you-" The man brushes past as you approach him, and he doesn't look back.

"Y/n," rasps Minho, looking worse by the second, bleeding heavily and clearly in a lot of pain. "No one's helping us here."

You turn in a circle, taking in your surroundings properly.

A few people spare you a glance. Most don't even bother.

Looks like you'll have to pick your target.

You spy a pair of young women, just a bit older than you.

One of them has a hard face, like the rest of the people.

But the other looks at you and Minho, before looking away quickly.

She's got grief in her eyes and a gold band on her ring finger.

"Okay," you say, taking Minho's hand. "Follow my lead."

"What?" he hisses as you walk over to the two women. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

You shush him and approach them with your face schooled into nervous, fearful expression.

"Excuse me, could you please help us?" You keep Minho's hand clasped in yours.

"We can't," says one of them cuttingly.

"Please," you beg. You slip your arm around Minho's waist, ignoring his sharp inhale. "My boyfriend is hurt."

The one with the ring shakes her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Please," you repeat. "If it gets worse... I can't lose him." You're only partially acting at this point.

She hesitates. "Where are you guys going? Do you have a home?"

"We're looking for our friends," you say.

She slides her gaze to the other woman, who sighs. "Fine."

⭒----⭒

They take you and Minho to their little apartment, where you follow Cindy into a storage side room to find a first aid kit.

You learn that they're sisters; Cindy, the one who took you in, and Jennifer.

You hold up the first aid kit as you and Cindy walk back into the main room.

"Thanks," says Minho, reaching out to take it.

"Hey," you smack his hands away gently. "Obviously I'm doing this. Your shucking back is sliced open. How would you even reach?"

"Fine." He sits in a chair, turning his back to you. "Thank you," he adds begrudgingly.

You gingerly shift the ripped pieces of his shirt, trying to get a clear view of the wound.

"Just take the damn shirt off." You jump at Jennifer's voice, looking over to where she's standing in the kitchenette, casually sipping from a chipped mug.

Cindy is busying herself at the counter, clearly trying to give you some semblance of privacy in this one-room apartment.

"Uhh-"

"I'm looking away," says Jennifer, turning around. "Prissy kids," she mutters.

You look at Minho, unsure of what to do.

He shrugs, speaking so only you can hear. "If I'm your boyfriend, it shouldn't be nothin' you haven't seen before."

You heartrate skips a beat as he lifts the hem of his shirt, and mentally shake yourself.

He's injured, for shuck's sake.

You help him guide the shirt carefully over the wound, and open the first aid kit.

⭒----⭒

When you finish cleaning and bandaging, Minho leaves the shirt off, cause it's still crusted with blood and covered in dust.

To reiterate: Minho leaves the shirt off.

You keep moving around, finding jobs to do in the apartment that don't involve any sort of proximity to Minho. And his shirtless self.

Shucking hell. What is happening?

You help Cindy make dinner and jump up to help Jennifer bring in supplies.

"Here," says Jennifer, tossing Minho a shirt.

He puts it on and flops back down onto the couch, looking exhausted.

You remember that you've both been up since yesterday, and being in pain is clearly very draining.

Cindy catches you watching him. "Go sit with your boy," she says, smiling.

"Oh, I can still help around if you-"

"Please," interrupts Jennifer, rolling her eyes. "He's been watching you all afternoon like a lost puppy. We're fine here, go give him some attention for god's sake."

You blush slightly, and Jennifer rolls her eyes again before you move to the couch beside Minho.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Y/n..." he murmurs, leaning over so his head rests on your shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle. It's strange to see Minho like this. He's usually so cool-headed, and snarky, and loud. This is all soft and sleepy, and it's kinda... cute?

Wow. Apparently you think Minho's cute now.

Are your fake feelings becoming real?

The thought of actually being with Minho sends a thrill through you; equal parts fear and hope.

You shift carefully so you don't disrupt him, moving so you're lying on the couch with him.

He instinctively wraps his arms around you, still asleep, and you just melt into it.

Whatever. It'll sell the whole dating thing anyways.

⭒----⭒

You go out onto the balcony to help Cindy take down her laundry.

The ring on her finger glints in the sunlight as she reaches up.

"Did you have someone?" you ask carefully, gesturing at the ring.

She smiles sadly. "I did."

She pauses a bit. "You can ask, you know."

"How'd you lose them?" you ask softly.

"He was bitten by a Crank. Shot himself before he could go crazy like the rest of 'em. Didn't want to let me watch." She shakes her head.

"You need to hold on to Minho, alright? You're lucky to have each other. Love is nearly impossible to find these days."

You look down. "I don't know if..."

Cindy huffs out a laugh. "You don't think that's love? Sweetie, you should see the way he looks at you."

"H-how does he look at me?" you breathe.

She grins at you. "The exact same way you look at him."

⭒----⭒

"So, where exactly are you guys going?" asks Jennifer that morning.

"We're looking for a guy named Marcus," says Minho. "We think he'll know where our friends are."

Cindy and Jennifer exchange a glance.

"Look, whatever rumour you've heard about him, it's a lie. Marcus isn't helping anyone, he's bad news. Trust us," says Jennifer.

"You don't wanna go looking for him," agrees Cindy.

You flick your gaze to Minho's before leaning forward on the counter.

"If he's harmed people, he could be doing the same to our friends. We need to find Marcus," you say insistently.

"...what if we snuck them in from the back somehow?" suggests Cindy, looking at Jennifer.

"You'd have to get out quick," Jennifer tells you. "Find your friends and leave immediately."

You nod. "Alright, it's a plan."

⭒----⭒

Cindy and Jennifer lead you to the back door of a building.

"It'll be better if you get away from here as fast as possible," says Jennifer.

"So this'll be goodbye," continues Cindy.

You thank them for everything, and they wish you luck.

Then you and Minho step into the building.

You keep your hand linked with his as you push through a crowd of bodies, refusing the dubious-looking drinks.

"Y/n!" Minho calls.

You turn, but you can't hear what he's saying over the pounding music and noise.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls you closer, speaking directly into your ear.

You suppress shivers as his breath sends tingles down your neck.

"Over there," he points to an office. "Maybe we can find information."

You slip through the door, locking it behind you and switching the lights on.

You see a bunch of documents full of payments and signed agreements.

"What the..."

"He's sending kids to WCKD," you realise.

"Shit," says Minho, staring down at the papers.

You both jump as someone tries to open the door. You hear keys jangle as the person moves to unlock the door.

You turn to Minho with a panicked gaze as the door unlocks with a click.

Then, you're being pushed up against a wall, and Minho's lips are on yours.

Holy shit. He's kissing you.

And it's not just a gentle peck.

He's got his arms gripping your hips, and his mouth is crushed against yours, moving in a way that's messy but good.

You respond naturally, fisting his shirt in your hands and kissing back.

The door swings open.

"Oi, you kids! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, sorry," you say, breathless in a way that's way too real.

"We were just-"

"Get out." the guy cuts Minho off, pointing out the door.

You stumble out, unable to keep your laughter in.

Minho yanks you into a quieter corner, grinning too.

"Hey, sorry about that," he says. "I was just-"

"I know," you say. "Just covering for us. Was a good plan anyway. Okay, we should go-"

"What if it wasn't just a coverup?" Minho grabs your wrist as he speaks.

"What?"

"What if I wanted to kiss you for real? What if I liked you for real?"

You hold his gaze, searching his eyes.

Then you lean in and kiss him, feeling fire warm you from your fingertips, which hold his face, all the way down to your toes.

"Oi!"

You spin around in surprise.

"Thomas?" exclaims Minho.

"Shucking hell, we've been looking for you guys!" you say incredulously.

"What, lookin' for us down each other's throats?" deadpans Newt.

"Come on, the others are outside," says Thomas, tugging Minho's arm.

"What happened?" you ask as you step out of the building.

"Brenda and I were in there too," explains Thomas. "Newt and the rest of 'em found us. And we got the Right Arm's location from Marcus."

"We just needed to find you two lovesick idiots before leaving," finishes Newt.

You smile at Minho, and he squeezes your hand.

Newt rolls his eyes. "I'm glad you guys sorted out your klunk, you were driving the rest of us mad."

"Come on, let's find this safe haven."

Hello, thanks to all for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one!

Requests are open if you have any ideas ❤

#the maze runner #tmr minho #minho x you #minho x reader #tmr minho x reader #my writing

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bleedingichorhearts · 4 months

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𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 X

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Some of you got more than you bargained for.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

TW // None?

The fabric seemed heavier than I remember. The fabric also wasn’t the color of a steel blue, it was gray. I also don’t remember there being any fuzzy, soft blankets in the mix?

Confused at the differences, I slowly rose from the blanket I had been burrowed in like a burrito. Muscles telling me to lay back down, but I don’t remember Solor getting new sheets, and blankets?

They smelled familiar too, like the fresh breeze of the ocean at night. Some spots even smelled just a little different than the other, but it was still a relaxing combination.

Looking around, I realized that I wasn’t in the same room anymore. The walls, and flooring weren’t the cement of the bunker. They were painted, and decorated with the steel blue, and aqua green colors. Some gold-like elements here, and there.

There were even windows to look properly out of, the autumn season looking very welcoming to look upon. There even was a window opened, just above the bed. Fresh, cold air coming in through. Everything just felt pleasant, homey even.

Glimpsing a slight movement in the corner, I jumped, sliding off the bed at the unexpected move, like I was seeing a spider quickly scurrying on the wall. A yelp coming out of my mouth.

I would have hit the ground on the other side of the bed if it weren’t for the blue gauntlet that reached over and held me in place. Their electric blue eyes observing me. Squared face, strong jaw, a scar on his cheek.

“Hydra?” I questioned out loud the sound of other rushing steps coming into the room.

Looking over, two more “Hydras” entered the room. They also had their own helmets off, showing the same blue eyes as the other, but their facial scars, and sizes were different. I didn’t know whether to be shocked, crying, or relieved with all of this …copy and pasting? Was Hydra an actual Hydra???

“Little Serpent.” One of them called, grabbing my attention to him. His voice warm, almost husky. Feeling like a warm drink that had just passed down your throat.

“What… had happened?” I asked as the one “Hydra” slowly moved me back onto the bed properly. My hands grabbing onto the top of his armor, the movement making me a little nauseous. A low purr coming out of him.

“We have found you in a bed, wounded. Smelling like him.” He said with a slight growl, a flush going to my cheeks, embarrassed they had found me in a state like that.

“I thought there was just one of you?” I asked them, changing that subject. Truly wondering how I didn’t know there were three of them.

“It’s a…perk we alpha legions have.” He responded a little smugly. Something they were proud of.

“You weren’t angry when I called you guy’s Hydra?” I asked another burning question. “What are your names anyways?”

“I am Asclepius.” The one with a scar on his lip introduced, and the one that spoke to me first. “The one next to me is Hydra, and the one holding you is Leviathan.”

“Leviathan?” I repeated his name, looking up at him. A rumbling coo coming out of him.

Well, he certainly looks bigger, and it would explain the times I have thought that Hydra had grown a couple of times.

“Your arm! Is it okay?” I asked, looking at all of them for the injury. Suddenly remembering that day where he was supposedly died, right in front of me.

“Don’t worry little serpent.” Asclepius purred, coming closer to the bed. His arm extending, showing me his prosthetic. “It has been remade.”

Crawling over to the edge of the bed. I carefully touched the new arm. It felt cold, but smooth to the touch. A few dislodged wires here, and there, but it was a pretty advanced arm.

“I’m sorry.” I suddenly apologized to him, dragging him forward in a hug. Head nuzzling into his neck. Reveling in his comforting scent as the bloody memory of his arm being severed somewhere else came back.

“Do not cry little serpent, it was just an arm, nothing more.” He rumbled, nuzzling back. The others cooing in agreement.

Slowly leaning back, I took his face in my hands. Rubbing his jaw with my thumbs, his eyes softening at the touch.

“Are you triplets?” I asked, tracing the scar that went down from his lips to his chin.

“Something like that little serpent.” He hummed, turning his head to nuzzle into my palm.

“…What happened to the Gray Knight?” I asked another question while they popped into my mind.

Asclepius' eyes narrowed a little, his head resting in my hands before he spoke. “We have made a deal with him. He, unfortunately will still be around.”

So… they didn’t kill him? That’s a relief in some weird way, but a deal?

“A deal?” I questioned him, the unexpected thought of ‘who had their turn with me when they were playing as one’ coming to mind as I stroked Asclepius' jaw once more. My cheeks burning up once more. Damn these intrusive thoughts!

“You still think of us fondly?” Asclepius teased me, his form leaning forward a little more. His sour face turned mischievous, as the others joined in with their purrs.

“O-Of course I do!” I exclaimed, turning my head away from the group. Embarrassed by their teasing.

Asclepius cooed, his gauntlet coming forward to gently cup my head to look back at him. Our foreheads touching.

“Don’t leave me again.” I almost whined to him as I leaned back a little to give him a smooch on the head.

“We don’t plan on it.” Asclepius responded as the other two pushed each other for some long awaited kisses too.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 XI

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 IX

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

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best-cosmetics123 · 5 months

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raccoonfallsharder · 5 days

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fistful of sunlight a fluffy lil domestic oneshot

domestic fluff | no use of y/n | oc!reader | oneshot | word count: 3,832. for @starriidreams, based on their original character, jazper. check em outttt ♡

after a surprising day of work at the knowhere clinic, princess jazper returns to their home with rocket, only to find that the captain of knowhere has been working on a little surprise of his own.

WARNINGS: brief description of surgical procedure in sceond paragraph only. rocket says damn/dammit a lot; reader is referred to as princess 2x (because reader is literally a princess). some limited physical description of reader (most notably, having gold palms/fingerpads/facial markings and an adorable lil toothgap). i've never written for someone else's oc like this before so i hope i do them justice ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐

Mister Kraglin had cut off his thumb.

You’re not even been quite sure how, but Mister Kraglin had cut off his thumb. It hadn’t been a job for a medpack — those are generally reserved for life-threatening injuries involving major trauma, and a medpack would have only healed up the stump anyway. No, Mister Kraglin had cut off his thumb and had shown up sobbing at the Knowhere clinic door, and it had been your job to soothe him and reseal every vein and artery, to string the nerves and tendons back together like loose threads on a sweater, and finally to laser stitch the skin in place, bandage it up, and brace it with one of the adjustable vibranium-and-vinyl splints that Rocket had made — per your request — for situations just like this one.

It had sent a stinging ache in your heart to see Mister Kraglin so upset. The former Ravager is more vulnerable in his pain than young Mister Adam or even any of the Star Children — at least while he’s safely at home on Knowhere — and you’ve gathered that this behavior might be due to the hollowing lack of any kind of person-to-person comfort he’d ever received as a child. You yourself are all too familiar with some of that feeling — emotional self-sufficiency and a wrenching desire for affection, bordering on need — in spite of the privilege inherent in being adopted into the Relvoith royal family.

Or perhaps because of it.

And so, you had soothed him with the softest words you could dream up, worried they might’ve sounded stilted in the formality of the Relvoith tongue. But the universal translator must have worked well, or perhaps the overly-decorous language hadn’t mattered in the end, because Mister Kraglin had sniffled and dried his tears with the back of his uninjured hand. Then he’d given you a wobbly and tremulous half-smile, thanking you so fervently that an observer might have thought you’d saved his life.

Unfortunately, the result is that you are exhausted — feet aching and eyes tired, a dull headache starting to form behind your golden eyes by the time you reach the open casement leading to the door of the apartment rooms you share with Rocket. One of the raccoon kits — the smallest of the litter rescued from the Arête — is waiting on the threshold, grooming itself. It’s only the tiniest bit larger today than it had been on the day you’d inadvertently adopted it, and it lifts its head as soon as it breathes in your scent, ears and nose twitching. Its tail flips from one side to the other when it sees you, and it immediately begins to generate the fast-paced hollow clicking noise that you’ve come to understand means that it’s purring.

“Hello, littlest one,” you say, crouching, and it immediately launches itself onto one of your soft thighs, and then into your chest. You cuddle it against you as you stand, pressing your mouth to the crown of its head, and open the apartment door.

The apartment is a little tattered, but it’s home: the place you and Rocket have made for yourselves, carved out of a little patch of Knowhere. There’s a broad series of patchwork-windows made of frosted and colored glass, and they shine like jewels when the artificial lights outside slant into a manufactured sunset. In certain hours, they cast a glowing, muted rainbow glow onto the rest of the main room. One wall is lined with Rocket’s inventions and tools, and the ceiling is edged in strings of tiny gold plasma-orbs that he’d pinned to the wall while perched on your shoulders. The doors on the kitchenette cupboards had been falling off when the two of you had moved in, so you’d replaced them with miniature curtains made of patterned fabrics and gauzy muslin and a treasured panel of Spartoi lace you’d found in Sanna Orix’s shop. The sofa is a soft corduroy, the color and texture of a purple night-sky, velvety and only a little frayed at all the seams. It had been one of Rocket’s discoveries. He’d made Mister Drax carry it from the Bowie all the way to your little apartment, just because he’d thought you might enjoy it. One arm of the sofa is draped with the rumpled softness of an old quilt — a gift from the citizens of Knowhere to their new Captain and his princess. It’s patched with squares offered up from each of the Guardians, and others, too: red flannel and a dove-gray fabric from Star-Lord’s childhood shirts, a scrap of leather from Mister Nebula’s uniform. Another square had been thieved from an armored vest left behind by Miss Gamora, after she’d been stolen away and sacrificed by Thanos. A couple of rectangles of fabric, cut from the plush baby-blanket that Groot had kept in his pot when he was still small, and little pieces from a strained button-down shirt that Mister Drax had decided to wear for a cycle just so he could have something to contribute to the quilt. There’s a patch from Cosmo’s suit, and another from young Mister Adam’s singed Sovereign cast-off, and silver-threaded stars embroidered in sloppily by young Miss Phyla and each of her siblings. A few splashes of delicate floral prints from Miss Ssssaralami and worn yellow canvas from Mister Blueliver and even an intentional splash of cosmic-green gin from Mister Howard.

At least, you assume it was intentional. Mister Howard claims it was intentional, and you’ve never been particularly adept at spotting lies.

In short, there’s not an inch of your little apartment that isn’t brimming with the soft shadows and glowing warmth of memories that you and Rocket have made together.

Unfortunately, you don’t have long to enjoy the peace of the small space. You can already hear Rocket cursing and muttering inside the next room, and it makes your own ears twitch with concern.

“Shoulda just paid Ssssaralami to do it. No, no, I wanna do it myself. Moron. Like you forgot you were a mechanic, not a frickin’ artist. Frickin’ paint in my damn fur. Better come out—”

“Rocks?” you call softly, snuggling the raccoon kit in against your chest again. The raccoon’s purring never stops, and its coat is a plush and velvety spray against the underside of your chin. “Are you well?”

Rocket’s head pops around the side of the bedroom door: fur mussed and flattened on one cheek, a splotch of purple dripping into the fur between the base of one soft ear and the crown of his head. There’s a smudge of luminous yellow-gold on his nose, glittering and so vibrant and warm that it almost looks like a wedge of amber over a candleflame. His eyes, bright as red stars and sunsets — all the holiest things in the universe — narrow on you immediately.

“You weren’t s’posed to be home for another three hours,” he growls accusingly.

The raccoon kit pats the golden swirl on your cheek with one flat paw, then headbutts you under the chin for more cuddles. Its purring grows louder.

“Mister Kraglin cut off his thumb,” you tell Rocket, wide-eyed as you take in the violet and sunshine smeared into his fur. Most of him is hidden behind the doorframe, but one hand grips the edge, and you can see gold and purple crusted around his claws. “It was the most excitement the clinic has seen in a while,” you admit, “and we have closed early as a result.” You feel your head tilt. “Are you… painting something?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment — eyes dropping to take in your white-and-red uniform — before he sighs: utterly beleaguered. “Trying to,” he mutters, and rolls his eyes. “Was supposed to be a frickin’ surprise.” He wheels back from the door, gesturing with that dark-clawed, paint-spattered hand. “C’mon in, Starlight.”

You carefully set the littlest raccoon on the sofa, and make your way deeper into the apartment.

Your breath trips out of your lungs when you cross the threshold into the bedroom. It’s been utterly transformed in your few hours away.

It is, you think in wonderment, like walking into the heart of an amethyst.

Layers of paint — from the ashen lilac of the sky just after the sun goes down, all the way to the richest midnight-purple — fold over each other in veils of haphazard brushwork, scraped across each other as if the painter were trying to create something deep and glimmering. It’s true that there are some splashes of color on the cracked bone-tiles of the floor, and little ripples where the purple had dribbled too thickly down the walls — but he’s covered the bed with a canvas that you recognize as borrowed or stolen from Miss Ssssaralami, and the plasma-orb lamps are similarly protected. A shabby box sits in one corner, full of wires and frosted glass, but you’re too entranced by the purple walls: the illusion of velvety, luminous depth — the sense of swimming in an endless night sky, or diving into the rift at the end of the universe.

And against the purple — all misshapen and erratic, in clusters and lopsided sprays, different sizes and spaces between each one — shine a hundred golden stars. They’re gleaming and metallic, shimmering with the same crushed glitter-dust smudged across Rocket’s nose, sparkling and brilliant and warm.

You touch one lightly with the golden pad of your fingertip, awestruck.

“You are an artist,” you say solemnly, awestruck as your eyes travel around the room.

Rocket scowls and shuffles the fur of his forearm against the end of his nose — then looks down to realize he’s smeared more gold paint on himself. A strangled roar of outrage climbs in his throat and hisses between his teeth, gravelly and shrill, and you blink down at him over one soft shoulder.

He looks like he’s ready to pull out fistfuls of his own fur, panting.

“I’d call you a liar if I didn’t know how frickin’ bad you are at it,” he seethes, glaring around the room as if the walls have personally insulted him. “It’s a damn mess.”

You tilt your head. You don’t generally find his aggravation humorous, but it is often endearing — and you know him well enough now to understand that sometimes, a little gentle mockery will make him feel safer.

“Small One,” you tease lightly, letting a smile curve your full lips, flashing your white teeth and the slight gap between them at your beautiful Captain, “the imperfections are what make it so lovely.”

His eyes narrow at you again, distant crimson suns, and for a moment he continues to fume: fists clenched, sharp teeth gritted. He is flawless nonetheless: his casual Knowhere-clothes spattered with bright sparkling yellow, now, and streaked with purple. One whole whisker gleams gold in the artificial Knowhere light that streams through the circular window, open over the head of the bed.

He sighs suddenly, his jaw and shoulders and hands all loosening, and you can see now that his palms are streaked with gold paint, too.

You’re always soft for Rocket, but everything inside you suddenly feels even softer: more pliable, more tender. You let your smile shift from playfulness to pure, gentle wonder as you gaze around the room again: jewel-toned, sequined and filigreed with suns and stars made even more sacred by the fact that they’ve come from his own hands. He’s even included some lopsided versions of the holy constellations you grew up studying in the Ositamet sky, which you hadn’t even realized he might remember from your stories. That same place in your heart that had ached over Mister Kraglin’s tears suddenly trembles and heats, overflowing with sunlight. You think it might pour out of your skin. In fact, you can feel it: the warmth in your cheeks, the tip of your ears and nose.

“You’re blushing,” Rocket notes drily, and your brow creases.

“Relvoith do not blush,” you say sternly. Which is true, after all — it’s not as if you can lie, even if you’d wanted to.

Rocket only rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re — gold-dusting, then. Sunbursting.”

You touch the warm swirls in your cheeks, knowing they’re bright as the stars he’s painted onto the walls.

“I am overwhelmed,” you admit to him softly. You can feel your eyes sting with tears as you turn slowly, taking everything in. Your voice is hushed. “I think perhaps this is the kindest, most generous thing that anyone has ever done for me, Rocks.”

Even though your eyes are on the skewed stars, you can feel the tension leave the little room when he sighs again.

“Yeah, yeah, princess,” he gruffs out. “Just — got sick of hearing you talk about wanting to redecorate.”

Now you do look at him, tilting your head. “I think that is a lie.”

He scowls, but there’s nothing hard in it at all. His sun-ruby eyes have turned into something soft and melting. “Just a little one.”

You cast another smile at him before turning your attention again to the starscape painted all around you.

“Why did you choose purple for the sky?” you muse after a moment. “I like it very much, but I would not have expected that choice from you—”

“Reminded me of you,” he mumbles, and when you glance at him again, he’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking away, scrubbing at his gold-dipped whiskers with the back of his wrist in the way you’ve come to recognize means he’s embarrassed. “Your uniform-thing, the first time we met. It was, uh, purple and white.” He clears his throat, and your smile turns into a delighted grin.

“You were feeling quite sentimental, then,” you tease.

“Whatever,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning away to begin peeling the canvas drape off the bed, revealing the fleecy turquoise comforter underneath, rippled with velveteen stripes. It’s a bit faded and ragged, and the mattress dips in the middle, but it’s a far cry from the piece of scrapmetal Rocket had been sleeping on when he had still been staying in his own apartment, just off the Guardians’ main office down the street. “You’re such a pain,” he adds, tossing the crumpled canvas into the corner and picking up the box of wire and glass you’d only vaguely noticed when you’d walked in. He sets the dilapidated box on the bed. “Wanna help me hang these? They’re not frickin’... authentic or whatever. Too expensive to get the real ones, all the way from Ositamet. Consider ‘em… off-brand, or whatever.”

He clears his throat again: a tell you’ve come to recognize; an indicator that he’s nervous. You lean over, peering into the box, and your heart catches in your throat again: full of sunlight, overflowing.

“You’re gold-dusting again,” he points out drily.

“How did you get these, if not from home?” you ask softly, lifting up one handful of bright-copper wire. He shuffles in tightly against your thigh, leaning one cheek into the soft plushness of your hip.

“Sketched ‘em up,” he admits. “Wove the wire and made the little plasma-orbs on my own. Had Steemie save the glass from that old building they tore down in Exitar. Cut it an’ soldered it myself.” He swallows. “Wasn’t that hard,” he adds, trying to downplay the time and effort you suddenly know he must have put into planning every inch of this creation. “With the ships, I musta had to patch glass at least a hundred times before.”

But these handcrafted string-lights are not just patched glass. They’re perfect star-shaped lanterns, far more precise than the celestial bodies spangling the walls. And though not every pane of glass matches in color or texture, they’re worth more to you than any import from the palaces and streets of Ositamet.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Let us hang them.”

Rocket doesn’t wait: he leaps nimbly onto the mattress and then springs to your shoulders. He’s heavy with screws and solder, bolts and plates, but his weight’s still nothing for your strength. You gather the strings of lights in your hands and they clink merrily against each other as you travel the perimeter of the room. When you hand him the end of the twisted copper wire, he holds the cord to the edge of the ceiling and fastens it into the bone-plaster with the soft, hollow thud of a bolt-gun.

The two of you continue around the room, skirting the pan of purple-and-gold swirled paint still on the floor, full of sopping brushes. A manufactured Knowhere breeze filters in through the round window, along with the artificial sunlight; it brightens the still-drying stars, making the room glimmer all around the two of you. You soak in the lullaby made by the measured timpani of the bolt-gun and the pleasant chime of the star-lanterns in your hands, feeding them up to your beautiful captain. There’s the comforting feel of his strong thighs braced between your palms and shoulders: a warm, welcome weight. Your eyes are drawn to a spray of purple on the claws of his left foot, like nail lacquer — it curls the corner of your mouth in a whimsical smile but you don’t dare breathe a word of it right now.

By the time the stringed lights are garlanded all around the room, the artificial lights outside have already begun dimming, and the room is dusky and softly-shadowed. Rocket leaps off of your shoulders, fleet-footed, and taps the sensor on the wall. It’s normally synced to the plasma-orb lamps, but he must have programmed the star-lanterns in too, because they brighten into a quiet glow: every bit of illumination magnified by the glass, refracted into the occasional spray of rainbow-flaked light scattered across the starscape-walls, the velvety bed, the paint-spattered floor. With one foot, Rocket drags the soft, shaggy rug from where he’d shuffled it under the bed, and the room is almost back to normal.

Almost normal, but transformed into something divine.

You stand for a moment, and take in the coziness of the room, the glints of far-off skies and dreams, the shimmering warmth in your heart and the knowledge of how much you truly mean to the beautiful Captain of Knowhere.

He must be able to tell your thoughts are shifting into sentimentality, because he breaks the quiet with a dramatic sigh.

“Now I gotta get all this damn paint outta my fur,” he laments, looking down at his purple-streaked feet and the shimmering yellow smeared across his forearm. When he turns his palms up, he groans, his whole head leaned back so he can curse the ceiling. The dark leather of both hands are glazed with sun-bright gold, as if he had fingerpainted the stars.

“Dammit,” he curses, as his fists begin to curl all over again.

But you catch one narrow wrist, watching the way he shines. “Look,” you say with a sun-bright smile of your own, and his knotted fingers loosen in your gentle grasp. You open your own hand next to his. The pads of your fingers and creased palm are ashimmer just like his, like you’d both been caught with fistfuls of sunlight and stars. You turn your hand over top of his, and you lace your fingers into the soft spaces between his knuckles: gold pressed to gold, so bright that it’s a wonder that sunshine doesn’t fan out from between your clasped hands in glittering rays.

Rocket swallows, whiskers and tail and ears all twitching, his glowing sunrise-eyes going soft in the dusky evening glow. “Starlight,” he says, and his voice is a husky rasp. “I wanted to tell you — but I ain’t good with words—”

Whatever he had been going to say is suddenly broken by the sound of a mechanical chime: the doorbell. You both look up, and it rings again.

“Dammit,” Rocket snaps for what must be the third time in just an hour or two. He tugs his hand from yours, stalking toward the door and flinging it open.

Miss Cosmo and young Miss Phyla are there, the former sitting on the step with a nervously-wagging tail. You can see Rocket’s shoulders ease, and you know it’s because he’s secretly soft for children and animals. Well, he seems to think it’s a secret, anyway. The sight makes you melt even more.

“I’m so sorry, Jazper,” the Star Child says, apology written all over her childish face. “I know the Captain was planning a surprise for you tonight, but—”

“But Adam has broken the ocular cannon,” Cosmo pipes up, and her tail begins to move twice as fast.

“The — what?” Rocket repeats, and you can hear the tension rising again in his voice. “What was he even doing with it?”

Miss Cosmo tilts her head as young Miss Phyla winces.

“Messing around,” the cosmonaut says, and her mechanical voice lilts in such a way that it sounds like a quote.

You move to lean by the door, and Rocket pinches the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Can’t get a frickin’ minute a’ peace—”

“It is okay,” you say with a wide smile. “I will be here when you come home.”

Rocket glances up at you, and his expression is pained. “I don’t—”

“Uhm,” young Miss Phyla interrupts hesitantly, teeth bared in a sorrowful grimace, “I hate to tell you this, but your — your guest is making a mess?”

Both you and Rocket turn to find the littlest raccoon kit meandering through the apartment living space, then between the two of you, and right out the open door. In its wake, from the bedroom to the front door, trail a ribbon of paint-slick pawprints sinking into the bone-floor forever: shades of purple, smeared with starlight-gold.

Rocket stares after the littlest kit as it ambles away. His mouth wobbles in something torn between bone-deep exhaustion, and a desire to bare his teeth and commit murder.

The corners of your own mouth curl, and your shoulders shake with feathery laughter. “Go,” you tell your Captain, and lean toward him. Young Miss Phyla and Miss Cosmo have seen the two of you together often enough to know that everyone will be happier if they turn their backs and pretend not to know that you’re dropping a kiss on the crown of Rocket’s paint-spattered head. “I will see you later tonight.”

You’re rising back upward when his gold-dipped fingers curl into the collar of the clinic uniform you’re still wearing. “Wait,” he mutters, tugging you back down and levying a quick, fleeting flick of his tongue to the fullness of your upper lip. “‘Fore I go.”

It’s a ritual, at this point: the soft kiss, the tug at your collar, the brief lick or nip at your mouth. And then the question, rumbling up from the bottom of his lungs, low and warm:

“Who’s yer favorite Guardian?”

You smile, your lips just a breath away from his nose — the answer the same now as it’s always been.

After all, you cannot lie.

“You are.”

thank you for giving me the chance to write this! it was such a fun idea and it was so interesting to work with someone else’s oc in this context, and try to integrate the formality of jazper’s language into the writing without making it sound unnatural (i hope i accomplished it!). i’ve never written for someone else’s character like this so i hope i did jaz justice ♡ thank you for trusting me with them. it was truly a privilege and i hope it was everything you were looking for ♡♡♡

#rfh fluff #starriidreams #rocket x jazper #domestic fluff #jazper #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #gotg rocket #rocket raccoon x oc

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alltimefail-sims · 2 months

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Hi friends, happy Friday!

The Sims team recently collaborated with Ebonix and dropped the "Urban Homage" CAS kit on April 18th, so you guys already know I had to snatch it up and give my thoughts. I'm a week late, but I'll give you the TLDR up front: I like every item that came in this kit. Yes, I'm just as shocked as you are!

Sidenote: Don't worry, even though they aren't pictured above we will be looking at the male assets as well - they're in their own separate section under the cut!

With all that being said, let's jump into it! ↓

First, let me show you those masculine frame outfits I promised:

Okay, now I'm just going to get my minimal qualms out of the way:

I wish the female frame bodysuit labeled as a top could have also been in the full-body category. I love that it can be layered with other skirts and such, but it's soooo cute by itself and we don't have anything like it, especially for everyday or workout purposes.

Next, the joggers should have been enabled for both frames and same goes for the overalls. You can untick the "female" or "male" clothing preference in CAS and they both look fine on the opposite frame, but obviously there is some minor distortion in the chest area on fem frames when they wear the overalls.

I also wish the basketball shorts came in some simpler, sleeker swatches alongside the bolder prints and colors.

That's literally it: miniscule complaints really, and trust me when I say these complaints are nitpicky for a reason - I struggled to find critiques for this particular kit.

As for literally everything else not mentioned above: I love these clothes, and I think there are a few items that I will use over and over again.

All the bottoms are superb

The loose jersey is an item that we desperately needed in game

The dashiki swatches are stunning

The fit of every item across the board is immaculate on a wide range of body types.

The few simple items snuck into this kit - the cropped denim jacket, the tie crop shirt, the open button down, etc. are so versatile and beautifully executed.

The trendy butterfly top, the skinny pants with cutouts in the side, and the platform ankle boots (specifically the flame swatches!!) have all been tackled by cc-makers; these versions that come in this kit are right on par with the cc counterparts out there, a HUGE win for console players who cannot use cc.

Basically, these clothes look like clothes I could actually see real people wearing...unlike some items that have come in packs in the past that feel far too niche or look like leftover items that didn't fit in a different EP or GP. (I'm looking at you CAS items from Crystal Creations... I know those assets were 80% Realm of Magic rejects lmao. Not that I'm mad, I like a lot of the items, but they really aren't super versatile.)

Perhaps the most surprising treasures in this pack, however, actually lie within the accessory categories. Wild realization for me because when it comes to accessories in the sims I'm usually indifferent at best and confused if the devs have ever seen a real human out in the wild at worst (because let's be honest...that shit is usually so oversized and weird looking it's basically unusable). But I have to give these accessories their moment in the sun because WOW. I can't believe I'm uttering the words "I love" next to "kit accessories..." but Hell hath frozen over I guess. Here are some screenshots:

Every accessory (with the exception of the GORGEOUS headwrap) is enabled for masculine frame; this includes the rings (left & right), necklaces, earrings, facial piercing, and even the nails. The facial piercing shocked me the most as I've never used the piercings we've been given in other packs - they're always thick, bulky, and chunky in the worst way. But, much to my amazement, this nose piercing is sooooooo good and even come in a number of decent swatches outside of gold, silver, black! In fact, I liked it so much that I'm ditching the cc nose ring on my OC Ta'Nia and swapping it for the nose piercing that came with this kit. Even on a sim with a downturned nose tip and wider set nostrils (like the male sim I used in the screenshots) I felt like the piercing still looked great!

I only have one complaint about the accessories, and it's that I wish we were given more than one set of nails, or at least more color swatches for the nails. Black, red, and blue bases with chrome tips are just too limited to me, especially with all the vibrant colors we see in this pack! I would have liked a set of nails with intricate airbrushing/hand-drawn designs or ones that utilized gems and charms along with some variation in length and a shape outside of the trendy coffin or oval nails at medium length. I know this is picky, but cc nails are killing the game right now whereas the sims team continually plays it safe and, imo, it's boring; console players deserve to have glamorous works of art on their sim's fingers as well!

OKAY... time for my wrap-up thoughts!

Look at me saying this wouldn't be a long review... yet here we are, a whole ass Ted Talk later lol. Overall, I personally encountered zero major issues in this kit. (Please note that when I say "major" I am talking about hoodies that make eyes 3x their original size or jewelry that corrupts the body of a sim lol.) I will say that I saw some people saying they noticed some discoloration on the facial piercings that came with this pack (textures/colors bleeding from some other CAS items onto the piercings) but I didn't personally have that issue. If there are any other issues outside of the discolored piercings, I didn't encounter them and I haven't seen others talking about them.

TLDR: For me, this and the grunge kit are the standard of what a good CAS kit should look like. I think I'll be using several of these items often, and the content is easily worth $5.00 (unlike the party kit that dropped alongside this one... but that's a topic for another day). If you're going to give EA $5.00 for a kit, I confidently recommend this one.

Remember to use the creator code "EBONIX" at checkout so Ebonix can receive 5% of the proceeds when you purchase this kit!

I hope you all enjoyed my ramble. What are your favorite items from the kit? What do you think could have been better? Let me know in the replies or send me an ask; I always love hearing your guys' thoughts.

Talk to you all later! Hugs x

#ts4 #simblr #the sims 4 #ts4 urban homage #urban homage kit #sims 4 #kit overview #ts4 kits #the sims community #ts4 lookbook #atfs

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