#BUT I REMAIN SUPPORTIVE. I SEE THE VALUE IN IT.

[holyguardian]

Aerith stood tall and firm, unwavering in her stance. She cut a regal figure — Somnus too, though he might not know it. Together they had wrested control over the narrative. Being the children of ruling monarchs meant they often had to shape themselves into the image that was required of them.

And sometimes what was better for the family wasn't the better outcome for them.

In an ideal world, Aerith would maintain silence and wait out the whispers until she could do something in the eyes of the public to correct her image. It was in Lucis' best interest that the heir to the throne maintained an untarnished reputation. The Cetran Princess would prove herself to be both resilient and soft, but what if that wasn't who she really was? What if she was loud?

None of it was fair. The mistake of another should not fall to her to correct. She could see it plainly how her mother was displeased and her father was toeing his way around a colourful exchange, whatever trade or negotiation the King and Queen of Lucis offered as compensation would never carry enough value for Aerith to be disrespected and silent about it.

... what she hadn't expected, though, was how much Somnus lent his voice in her defence. The same Prince who sarcastically (and meticulously) called her out on several points.

What would surprise her even more was how her hand lifted to touch at Somnus' back in silent support when his father's voice carried over their conversation. This was about setting things right for herself... but she wasn't an awful person, or so she hoped. Her promise was beginning to come true. Somnus was being viewed as the responsible Prince.

"Yes." a gentler voice rose up. "That is quite enough." Queen Ifalna joined the slowly growing circle, a polite smile barely creasing the corners of her eyes. "Prince Somnus, would you kindly escort my daughter to our villa?"

"That won't be necessary." The Lucii Queen insisted. "You are our honoured guests, please, enjoy yourselves and we shall leave further discussion for tomorrow."

"Oh, but our travel to Lucis has proven to be tiresome for my sweet Aerith." Ifalna replied, masterfully weaving more meaning behind her polite words. "Go on, my darling, it's important that you recover from this journey."

Aerith dipped her head and gave a respectful curtsy to the gathered Kings and Queens. Her lips leapt into a great big smile as her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead, a smile that remained when she witnessed the discreet wink from her father. Her head dipped again more modestly as she broke away with Somnus. No need to hide in shadows when they were being granted leave from the party — a small pity, she would have enjoyed more time basking in the lavishly presented forum but this wasn't the night for festivities.

It was only when they were well and truly distanced from onlooking eyes and straining ears that she finally spoke in a hushed voice. "Sorry I got you kicked out."

Somnus had to hold back every fibre in his face-muscles not to roll his eyes at his brother. They were in public. Their parents had always been very particular about public and private differences. And Somnus had to be twice as vigilant with his standing.

But by the Gods.

If he did not want to hit his brother in the face right now. Why could this pompous arse not just go and ruin just his own life? No, it always had to fall back on him, too… and now on a third party with Aerith.

The Princess who had quite fierce words and suggestions for Ardyn and Aera. And it was something that poured oil into the ire of Somnus’ own fire. Made him cut off the breath Ardyn was sucking in for a reply right away.

“Yes. That is the least you could do to start to remedy the damage you did to everyone around you. Princess Aerith deserves her name being washed clean of the rumours that no doubt have already started to creep on the streets of the city. You should start with making that here and then speak to the people, too.”

It could be so easy. Maybe that could at least grant the farmland to get out of this undamaged. They would take the travel back to their own lands and seek other alliances… perhaps. If there were any. The same with the Lucii kingdom.

And then he was free again and that was that…

“Somnus. That is enough for here.”

That voice stood out. And it made Somnus shut up. Because talking back to his own father had always proven to be futile and only worsen whatever situation was at hand.

The king and queen of Lucis had approached, probably wanting to avoid the development of any scene. It was obvious they wanted to get the two ‘betrothed’ couples away from each other for the moment.

There were too many eyes watching, too many ears listening. And maybe in this moment Somnus understood what Aerith had meant with coming out of this evening shining. They could cause a scene. Like slinging dung at each other. Or they could appear like the level-headed side. So Somnus bowed his head a little, paying his respects.

“Of course the great Healer and the Oracle know how the people feel and what they need, though. No doubt you have everything planned out already.”

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[goldiipond]

maybe this is me having too much faith in the people calling for the extermination of an entire ethnic group but idk. i feel like the fact that israel has the most powerful settler colony on the fucking planet bending over backwards to defend them from literally every other country should be enough to make at least some zionists realize that they are not the good guys

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: Two Into One Will Go (2.9, LWT, 1972)

"Randall's our man. I know: don't jump to conclusions, don't make guesses; but if you'd seen him this morning, you'd have known. So cocksure, so convinced that nothing can touch him, that he's got everything covered. He invited us to try and nail him. That's just what I intend to do."

[moe-broey]

@eriisaam I just GOTTA SAY. THIS IS SO WILD TO ME. FASCINATING READ, TO ME.

I have this very oddly specific tendency. To avoid, or at least not get super involved in very specific media. This isn't at all a reflection of the media itself, it's ENTIRELY just me being Weird and experiencing what I call Shrimp Colors. No other way to put it, if I were to attempt to describe it I would sound insane.

However!!! That doesn't always stop me from absorbing things through osmosis. Sometimes it's enrichment for me, to see what my mutuals are having fun with!! I just think it's neat...

ALL THAT SAID. WILD TO ME. CRAZY TO ME. That from everything I've gleaned about Slay the Princess. It gives me Shrimp Colors, I would generally avoid it, but from what I've Seen. It feels soooo Mani coded, to me.

JUST. REALLY REALLY FASCINATING and staggering tbh to hear this. THE SHRIMP COLORS............... I was RIGHT (maybe). I feel like I've gone from "Very compelling, however I would generally avoid this one" to apprehensively "hm. Perhaps... for research purposes....."

Either way, I found this to be EXTREMELY validating to hear. In a way I can't even really comprehend. SUPER COOL 😳🧍💥💥💥

One day. I will be able to find the words. To explain what the difference is between Lif and Mani. There is a Core Difference between them. Of what they Are. Today apparently is NOT that day though.

[fading-event-608]

Is seeing the same post on your dash tiring for you?

What do you think Palestinians feel after almost a year of the same bombs that sometimes even drop on the same place, same lies about a 'ceasefire', same same indifference towards their suffering?

Just because a post highlighting a fundraiser was made a day, a week, a month ago doesn't mean it's not worth sharing. So many campaigns were created months ago and received little or no support at all. All while needing funds more than ever.

Just in the last 24 hours IOF committed 4 massacres, resulting in 23 martyrs and 101 injuries - and that's just the people who could reach the hospitals or were found; many are still under the rubble or blocked from ambulances in other ways.

"The toll from the "israeli" aggression has risen to 41,638 martyrs and 96,460 injuries since October 7th of last year." - from today's Palestinian Ministry of Health news. And again, that's the people they could count - people whose scattered remains were dug up by their families, people who were injured and died while on their way to the hospital or in it (either from wounds or getting bombed in there too).

IOF sees your indifference and continues it's aggression on Lebanon. After all, if they can get away with a year (76 years) of genocide, why not start another one?

Only 3 days ago I've made a vent post [here] about how a fundraiser I've been spotlighting received less and less donations in the last week. And guess what? It still gets some reblogs. And guess what? It's stagnating again despite that.

If you can share the same 'tumblr heritage' post time and time again, if you can share same posts from various gimmick blogs, you can handle some repetition on your dash. In fact, you can also handle a small donation to a Palestinian fundraiser (if you can't then it's fine and you DO NOT need to comment that. In fact, you shouldn't.)

Please share this post and donate to Palestinian fundraisers, including Falastin's:

Keep in mind CONVERSION RATES:

10$ = 101 SEK

25$ = 253 SEK

50$ = 506 SEK

100$ = 1,012 SEK

I've talked about it before numerous times, a lot of info can be found on this post [here].

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

I do semi-regular art updates (last one [here]) and accept commissions for proof of donations, please dm me for info as my art blog was terminated.

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[falesten-iw]

To Those Who Still Hold Onto a Shred of Morality and Humanity - Stand with Us and Don’t Forget Us.

Over 40,000 lives have been lost, with 70% of them being children and women. Among these numbers are my own family members—many of whom I’ve already lost.

My family, my cousin, aunt, their children, and grandchildren were all directly targeted by Israeli airstrikes. I’m sharing a video of my aunt and cousin to reveal the harsh reality we are facing in Gaza. In this video, my aunt bravely shares her story about how the Israeli army airstruck them along with their children and grandchildren. Even if you don’t understand Arabic, just watching her speak will help you grasp the immense suffering we are enduring in Gaza. You can see the vedeo in this post.

The few family members who remain are in grave danger, and I’m terrified of losing them too. We have a chance to make a real difference and give my 24 surviving family members a chance to live.

In Gaza, jobs are non-existent, and nonprofit organizations like the UN have drastically reduced their work on the ground. Basic necessities such as milk, food, and medicine are almost as expensive as gold. My family is struggling to afford even the essentials, and my mother urgently needs medication that we simply cannot afford.

I’m also sharing another video that shows the daily struggle people face just to get clean water. The suffering here extends far beyond my family; it’s a genocide affecting every aspect of life in Gaza.

Thanks to the generosity of those who have already donated, we’ve raised $535 toward our goal of $190,363- august 17th. I’m deeply grateful to each of you, but we still have a long way to go, and I need your help more than ever. Imagine if it were your family—how would you feel if they were in this situation?

For those who have created special posts or reblogged to amplify my voice, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means everything to me and to my family. If you haven’t yet shared our story, please take just one minute to do so. Your voice could be the lifeline my family desperately needs.

You cannot continue to treat human lives as mere numbers. This is a genocide that demands immediate action. How many more should be killed before you all wake up? Will 40,000 lives be enough to stir us to action? 50,000? 100,000? 150,000?

Asking for donations and charity is something we never imagined having to do in Gaza before the war, and it’s heartbreaking that it has come to this. But if everyone who saw my last post donated just $10 or $20, we could reach our goal in no time. If you’re looking for a way to contribute, consider giving up your coffee, tea, or other “cup” for one day, one week, one month, or anything in between. Then, donate what you would have spent to help me. Please help us and donate now!

This is about more than just donations—it’s about preserving human lives and upholding our shared moral values. Your contribution can make a world of difference in our survival and ensure I don’t lose more of the people I love.

Demanding an end to this suffering is a matter of basic humanity. You cannot remain neutral in the face of such genocide. Please, let’s stand together. Enough is enough.

Every donation, no matter how small, brings us closer to hope and healing. Thank you again for your kindness and support. I will never forget it.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed even as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

Important note: ** 105 Swedish kr is just 10$ ** 1050 Swedish kr is just 100$ ** 10500 Swedish kr is just 1000$

Please share !

@humansofnewyork@intersectional-feminist @intersectional-feminists@intersectional-feminism @intersectional-feminist-killjoy

@thepeoplesrecord@socialjusticekitten-blog @socialgoodmoms @nowthisnews @socialgoofy

@theblogofawesome@fightforhumanity-rpg-blog @fightforhumanity-rp@queerandpresentdanger @progressive-pride

@radicalsocialworker @activistminds @mybelovedworld @hopeandresist @solidarityisimportant-blog

@solidarityissbliss @solidarityisnotaslogan-blog-blog @unified-multiversal-theory @feministacansada

@feministactionsupportnetwork @globalvoices @save-the-world-but-lose-her @save-the-world-one-day-at-a-time

@save-the-world-tonight @wip-wednesday @daily-writing-prompts @allthingswordy @writerscorner-blog

@fictionfood @wordsthat-speak @writerscunts-blog @storyshots-blog @wordsnstories-blog

@writeblr @thewritingcaddy @fictionwriting2 @inkstay @creativepromptsforwriting @interact-if

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsunday as your boyfriend

pairings. sunday x gn! reader

warnings. fluff

a/n. i love my little birdy chicken wing boy

wc. 3.3k

sunday as your boyfriend would be.. supportive and thoughtful.

— remembers the little things. sunday always notices small details about you: your favorite drink, the way you like your books arranged, or the specific way you fidget when stressed. he uses this knowledge to surprise you in subtle, meaningful ways.

— if you mention something offhand, like a snack you miss or a place you want to visit, he’ll remember and make it happen later when you least expect it.

— quiet reassurances. he’s not overly vocal, but his presence is grounding. during tough times, sunday doesn’t overwhelm you with words but instead offers steady eye contact and calm affirmations, letting you know he’s there for you.

— when you’re anxious or upset, he doesn’t push for explanations. instead, he’ll quietly stay by your side, creating a safe space for you to process your emotions.

— acts of service!!!! sunday’s thoughtfulness shines in how he anticipates your needs before you even voice them. whether it’s bringing you a blanket on a cold night or fixing something in your room, his actions speak volumes.

— he never makes a big deal out of it, either. he’ll just shrug and say, “it was no trouble.”

— he PRIORITIZES!!! your comfort!!! if you’re having a bad day, sunday ensures you’re as comfortable as possible, whether that’s adjusting his schedule to spend more time with you or simply making you your favorite meal. he’s the kind of person to silently swap seats with you in a crowded space if he senses you’re uncomfortable without making it obvious.

— the type to give you gentle encouragement. when you’re feeling unmotivated or down, sunday knows how to nudge you forward. his words are never pushy but always tailored to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.

— he respects your pace, understanding that sometimes, all you need is someone to believe in you until you’re ready to believe in yourself.

— he enjoys surprising you, but in ways that are never overwhelming. maybe it’s a handwritten note left on your desk or a playlist he made for you. these surprises always feel personal, as if they were crafted solely with you in mind.

— sunday is protective but subtle. he never smothers you or undermines your independence. instead, he ensures your safety and comfort in ways you might not even notice until later. for instance, he might quietly assess a situation to ensure it’s safe for you or offer to accompany you somewhere without making it seem like he’s worried.

— values your opinions and feelings. SO HEAVY ON THIS.

— sunday always makes sure you feel heard. he listens intently, never brushing aside your concerns, and often surprises you with how much he remembers from past conversations. even in disagreements, he approaches the situation calmly, prioritizing understanding over being right.

— he’s your calm in the storm, bringing stability to chaotic moments. his composed nature makes you feel like no challenge is insurmountable. sunday also respects your need for independence, stepping back when necessary but remaining a steady presence in the background.

— the small thoughtful gestures in your daily life :( if he notices you’re overworking, he’ll gently remind you to take a break or place a cup of tea by your side with a gentle kiss to your temple.

— he learns your routines and preferences, making adjustments to his own schedule to align with yours when possible.

— encourages your growth!!!!! sunday always supports your dreams and goals, often offering practical advice or quiet encouragement to help you achieve them. he never tries to overshadow or control your ambitions, instead acting as a partner who wants to see you flourish.

— QUITE LITERALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER!!!! the type to hold up a huge sign that says "[NAME]'S NUMBER ONE FAN!!!!!" with headbangs, bracelets, necklaces, bags, keychains and merch of YOU plastered all over him and that darn sparkle in his eye.

— the king of respecting boundaries. he’s incredibly respectful of your personal space and emotions, never pushing you to share more than you’re ready to. sunday’s patience ensures that your relationship grows at a pace that feels comfortable for both of you.

—

you slumped into the couch, the weight of a long day pressing on your shoulders. before you could fully sink into your thoughts, Sunday appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with two steaming mugs of tea.

“chamomile, to help you relax,” he said, his voice soft as he placed the tray on the coffee table. his movements were graceful, deliberate, as if this small act of kindness carried the same weight as any major battle he faced.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the gesture. “how did you know i needed this?”

his lips quirked in a faint smile. “i pay attention.”

he settled beside you, handing you the mug. the warmth seeped into your hands, and a quiet sense of peace washed over you. sunday didn’t push you to talk or explain—he simply stayed there, his calm presence soothing you more than any words could.

sunday as your boyfriend would be subtle in his own little romantic ways.

— quiet love letters. QUIET LOVE LETTERS!!!!

— sunday isn’t one for grand declarations, but he writes letters that reveal the depth of his feelings. he leaves them in places you’ll find unexpectedly, like inside a book you’re reading or your bag before a big day. the words are poetic yet simple, and you adore them so much (which basically gives him the motivation to continue)

— enjoys giving personalized gifts. every gift he gives feels uniquely tailored to you. he remembers small details, like a song you said you liked months ago or a piece of jewelry that matches your favorite outfit, and surprises you with them.

— he once gave you a scarf he’d chosen because it reminded him of your favorite color or the warmth of your laugh.

— sunday loves to take you to quiet, beautiful places—a secluded garden, a scenic overlook, or a tranquil café. these moments aren’t extravagant but feel intimate, allowing you to share time together away from the world.

— he plans these outings based on your mood, sensing when you need to recharge or celebrate something special.

— definitely the type to make you playlists, he expresses himself through music, crafting playlists that reflect his feelings for you. each song holds a memory or emotion he associates with your time together.

— when you’re apart, he sends you these playlists, saying, “this reminded me of you.”

— forehead kisses!!!! one of his signature gestures. sunday believes there’s something deeply personal and tender about a forehead kiss. it’s his way of grounding you, showing his affection without words.

— he often does this absentmindedly while walking past you or as you’re falling asleep beside him.

— celebrating milestones subtly instead of grand parties, sunday marks milestones with quiet dinners, heartfelt toasts, and small tokens to commemorate the occasion. he focuses on the meaning behind the moment rather than the spectacle.

— sunday loves sharing his favorite books, songs, or stories with you, not because he wants you to love them too but because they’re part of who he is. he’ll read passages aloud to you, his voice calm and soothing, and ask, “what do you think?”

— silent but loving gestures. (OUUU he always has a smile on his face whenever staring at your cute face) he’ll fix your scarf when it’s slipping or pull you closer when the wind picks up, all without saying a word. these actions speak volumes about his care and attentiveness.

— if you’re working late, he’ll leave a cup of tea and a snack by your side before retreating to give you space.

— when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix everything. instead, he holds you, his arms steady and warm, whispering soft reassurances like, “it’s okay, i’m here.”

— he lets you cry or vent as much as you need, never rushing you or downplaying your feelings.

— (symbolic) tokens!! sunday has a habit of giving you small items that carry meaning—like a pressed flower he picked during one of your walks or a smooth stone from a beach you visited together.

— these items become cherished keepsakes, reminding you of the memories you’ve shared.

— sunday is very affectionate, only to you though. his hugs are firm and grounding, as if he’s shielding you from the world while sharing his quiet strength. also likes tracing circles on your hand when you’re holding his or brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

— i forgot to mention but you're the ONLY person he'll let touch his wings other than his sister, to him his wings are very much apart of him and they are sensitive, so him letting you touch them says so much. (he likes the way your fingers trace the soft curve of each figure so yes, please continue)

— trust me when i say this but he makes you feel SEEN. he’ll surprise you by recounting things you’ve said long ago, proving how closely he listens. if you doubt yourself, sunday reminds you of your strengths in his understated way: “you’ve done it before. you’ll do it again.”

—

the crowd was suffocating, bodies pressing together as the cold air bit at your cheeks. you shivered, trying to navigate the bustling space without losing your balance. it was one of those winter nights where even the stars seemed to hide, and the faint warmth of streetlights offered little comfort against the chill.

without a word, sunday’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled you closer—so close that your shoulder brushed his side. his long coat shielded you partially from the wind, but it was the solid warmth of him that truly made the cold feel less cruel.

“stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, just for you to hear. his free hand rested lightly against your back, guiding you as the two of you weaved through the crowd.

it wasn’t just practical; it was protective, almost instinctive. sunday’s tall frame blocked the harsh gusts of wind and the jostling strangers. every now and then, his golden eyes darted to you, checking to see if you were okay.

when you shivered again, he tugged you even closer, his hip brushing against yours as he adjusted his coat to drape over your shoulders. the faintest smile played at his lips. “better?”

you nodded, your cheeks warming despite the freezing temperature. “much better.”

he said nothing more, but the way he stayed so close, the way his hand never left yours, spoke volumes. in the chaos of the cold, crowded world, sunday made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

—

sunday as your boyfriend loves spending quality time with you.

— spending quality time with sunday feels like an oasis of calm in a chaotic world.

— he doesn’t need to fill the silence with words to make you feel cherished. whether it’s lying side by side on the couch reading, or watching the night sky, he’s content just being near you. his company is enough to make you feel like time slows down, as if the world outside doesn’t matter.

— he enjoys low-key activities that allow you to connect in a way that feels effortless. maybe it’s cooking together, where he takes the lead but is always careful to make sure you’re involved in the process, whether it's chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce.

— shared hobbies!!!!!!! sunday is someone who loves learning about your interests, even if they’re completely different from his own. he sits with you as you sketch or watch your favorite movies, asking thoughtful questions and genuinely wanting to know what excites you about it. his curiosity about you makes even the simplest activities feel special.

— great at supporting you silently (if.. that makes sense), sometimes, quality time doesn’t require a lot of talking. sunday’s presence alone provides comfort. whether you’re working on a project or simply relaxing, he’s content being near you, offering a soft, reassuring smile when you look up. he’s always the first to notice if you're stressed, offering a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on without making a fuss about it.

— loves doing the little things together as he takes joy in the mundane. running errands becomes an adventure when he’s by your side. stopping by a local café becomes a mini date, and even grocery shopping feels more like an intimate exchange. there’s a quiet magic in the way he makes ordinary moments feel like a treasure.

— you could literally be sitting in silence, reading a book while zoning out with sunday beside you. sunday? oh, he's just watching you aimlessly, eyes locked onto you HARD. he doesn't mind being in silence with you, just as long as you're around he'll be better than ever.

— whether it’s through shared silence or quiet conversation, sunday makes sure that every minute together feels treasured. he cherishes time spent with you because, for him, those moments are what truly matter.

—

you were curled up on the couch, lost in a book. the soft rustling of pages filled the quiet room, the only sound between you and sunday, who sat beside you with an unread book in his hands. but his focus wasn’t on the pages in front of him. no, his gaze was fixed on you.

he admired the way the light from the window caught in your hair, making it shine with a soft glow. the way your fingers turned each page with such care, as though the book was something sacred. every now and then, you would bite your lip in concentration, or softly hum a tune you barely noticed, and sunday found himself completely enchanted by these small, quiet moments.

his golden eyes softened as he watched you, his heart swelling with an affection that took him by surprise. there was something about the way you immersed yourself in the world of the book that made him feel both in awe and utterly in love.

you glanced up, catching him staring at you. “something on my face?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

sunday blinked, the spell momentarily broken. his cheeks flushed, but his smile remained gentle and warm. “nothing,” he said, his voice soft. “just thinking how… beautiful you look, lost in your world.”

you tilted your head, amused by the sudden honesty in his words. “you’re staring at me like you’re watching something magical.”

he chuckled quietly, his gaze returning to you with a tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. “you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment passed, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his hand, so subtly, found yours. it was his quiet way of showing that even in these small, peaceful moments, he was entirely devoted to you.

and in that moment, you realized that the most magical thing wasn’t the book, or the quiet room—it was the way sunday looked at you, as though you were everything he ever needed.

—

sunday as your boyfriend absolutely loves recieving and giving affection.

— sunday and his subtle affection... sigh.

— sunday loves affection, though he expresses it in the quietest of ways. he isn’t one for grand gestures, but his affection is felt in the small, tender moments he shares with you. here's how sunday enjoys giving and receiving affection:

— since sunday isn't so big on pda, gentle touches is the way to go!!! sunday's affection is often shown through touch, though he never forces it. when you’re close, his fingers might brush against yours, or he’ll softly press his palm to your back when you’re walking together. it’s subtle, but the warmth he offers in those touches is undeniable.

— can we appreciate the art of quiet presence?? the way he often shows his love by simply being there, his presence a steady comfort. when you’re upset or stressed, he won’t rush to fix things but will instead sit beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, as though the closeness itself is enough to soothe you (which, it is).

— sunday’s affection is often expressed through the little things. maybe it’s making you tea because he knows you’re tired, or handing you a blanket when he notices you shivering, all without a word. it’s never about what he does, but the thoughtfulness behind it.

— the way he listens. everybody LISTEN UP!! when you talk, sunday listens—not just to your words, but to the way you say them. he remembers the smallest details, and when he surprises you by bringing up something you mentioned months ago, you feel the love in his attentive listening.

— expressing through his eyes. sometimes, he doesn’t need to speak to show his affection. his golden eyes do the talking, always softening when he looks at you, filled with warmth and adoration. he’s not the type to openly gush about his feelings, but when he catches your eye, you can feel his love in that look.

— sunday finds affection in quiet moments. when you’re reading together, or when you’re simply sitting beside him, not needing to say anything, his hand might rest against your leg or his arm will casually brush yours. these moments of silence are when he feels the closest to you, when affection doesn’t need to be vocalized but is felt through proximity.

— while sunday is reserved about his own needs, he does enjoy receiving affection in ways that aren’t over the top. a kiss on his cheek, a warm hug when he least expects it—these things make his heart flutter. he might not ask for it, but he welcomes your attention with a smile that says everything.

— THIS MAN LOVESSSS ACTS OF SERVICE!!! one of his main ways of showing love.

— when sunday wants to show you he cares, he’ll do something for you before you even ask. whether it’s fixing something around the house or making sure you’re comfortable, his actions speak louder than words.

— you don't even gotta tell him twice to grab a cup of water he's up and running. you need help with your paperwork? who knew you had a flash in your home? need your hair done and touched up? suddenly he's a hairdresser with a certificate in hairdressing/salon.

—

you sat at the table, focused on a small project, when you felt a subtle presence beside you. sunday had quietly moved closer, and now his hand brushed against yours. it was barely noticeable at first, just a light touch as if to say, i’m here.

without thinking, your fingers shifted just enough to intertwine with his, a simple gesture that made your heart flutter. he didn’t say anything, but his thumb lightly traced the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes.

when you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you, soft and attentive. there was a quiet affection in the way he held your hand, his fingers never tightening or pulling away. he wasn’t in a hurry. he just wanted to be close.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, a gentle smile forming on your lips as you looked into his eyes.

“i gues so,” sunday said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. he squeezed your hand just a little, letting the warmth of the touch speak for him.

it had always been this way—gentle and subtle. he didn’t need to fill the space with words; the way his thumb moved over your skin, the way his fingers lingered with such care, was all the affection you needed.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

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[novaursa]

Web of Gold (aegon in love)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Alicent Hightower stands at the entrance of your solar, her brow furrowed, a determined gleam in her eyes. You can see her reflection in the mirror before you as you sit, surrounded by your ladies-in-waiting, a soft murmur of conversation filling the room. They are laughing at something you said, oblivious to the instant change that thickens as Alicent steps further inside.

The room quiets. Your ladies glance nervously at each other, sensing the charged air, but you remain poised, turning your head only slightly, as though the Queen Mother's arrival is of little concern.

"Your Grace," you greet her warmly, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper beneath your voice. "How lovely of you to visit." You flash a charming smile, but the glint in your eyes betrays your amusement. Alicent’s sudden need to speak with you is, of course, no coincidence.

"Leave us," Alicent says to your ladies, her tone stern but not harsh. They all rise quickly, dropping curtsies before scampering out of the room, not wishing to be caught in whatever this confrontation might become.

You rise slowly, smoothing your gown, a rich crimson with golden embroidery that glistens in the candlelight, making you look every bit the queen you aspire to be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Grace?" you ask, maintaining your sweet tone, though the question drips with false innocence.

Alicent steps closer, her lips pressed thin. She’s trying to appear calm, but you can sense the desperation simmering beneath her composure. "I wanted to speak with you," she begins, her voice softer than it was with your ladies, the sort of voice she uses when trying to remind others of her maternal presence. "About Aegon."

"Of course," you reply, as if it’s the most natural topic in the world. "I was just speaking of him with my ladies. His strength and wisdom are unparalleled, don’t you think?" You watch the flicker of annoyance cross her face, savoring the way her attempt to steer the conversation in her favor is already faltering.

Alicent shifts, clasping her hands in front of her, trying to appear serene. "Y/N, I understand that Aegon values your… opinions. And I do not wish to interfere. But…" She hesitates, searching for the right words, something that will make you listen to her. "He is still young, and he needs guidance. Proper guidance. From those who truly have his best interests at heart."

You raise an eyebrow, the smile never leaving your lips. "Proper guidance?" you echo, as though you are truly considering the meaning of her words. "But who could possibly care more for Aegon’s best interests than his own wife-to-be?" Your voice is light, playful, but the implication is clear. I am the one at his side now. Not you.

Alicent’s mouth tightens. "As his mother, I’ve always sought what is best for him. I’ve been by his side since he was born. I raised him. No one knows Aegon as I do."

You tilt your head slightly, stepping closer so that your presence looms just a bit. "Oh, I don’t doubt that, Your Grace. You have been a wonderful mother to him, no one would dare dispute that." You pause, letting the praise sink in, then adding with a soft, calculated edge, "But he’s no longer a boy, is he? Aegon is a king now, and kings must make their own decisions, form their own judgments." You take a step back, shrugging slightly. "It’s what all rulers must do."

Alicent stiffens, the tension rolling off her in waves. You see her jaw clench as she speaks, trying to keep her voice steady. "And what decisions has he made under your… influence?"

You laugh lightly, almost as though she’s told a joke. "Influence? Your Grace, I only seek to support Aegon. To give him the love and devotion he so richly deserves." You look at her knowingly, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. "A man like Aegon needs to feel appreciated, cherished for all he does."

Alicent's expression tightens further, but you can see the cracks forming. She knows what you're doing, yet she can’t stop you. "Y/N, you must understand, this is not about appreciation. This is about responsibility. You cannot simply—"

You cut her off with a gentle smile, stepping toward her with the grace of a predator that knows its prey is cornered. "Alicent," you say softly, dropping the formalities. "You needn't worry. I’m not here to replace you. You’ll always be his mother." The way you say it feels like a reassurance that holds no real comfort. "But I think we both know Aegon is happiest when he is free to act without feeling… pressured." Your eyes flicker with amusement. "And he seems so at ease with me, wouldn't you agree?"

Alicent looks like she’s about to snap, her eyes burning with frustration, but she holds herself back, her voice now low, tight with warning. "You don’t understand what it means to be close to power like this. It is not about flattery and affection. It is about duty, about making the hard decisions, even when they are painful."

You place a hand on your chest, pretending to be wounded. "Oh, Alicent, I understand more than you think. It’s just that I approach things… differently." You let your hand fall, turning toward the window to look out over the courtyard, where Aegon can be seen laughing with a group of knights. "Aegon deserves to be happy, doesn’t he? And I make him happy." You glance back at her, your smile serene. "Isn’t that what matters?"

For a moment, Alicent just stares at you, her hands clenched so tightly you think her knuckles might turn white. But she says nothing. She can’t. Because as much as she might want to fight you on this, she knows you’re right in one regard—Aegon is happy with you. And that happiness is what keeps her from lashing out, from saying what she truly wants to say.

Finally, Alicent exhales sharply, turning on her heel. "Enjoy your day," she says stiffly before sweeping from the room, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

The moment she’s gone, you let out a small, satisfied sigh, turning back to the mirror. Your reflection smiles back at you, victorious. Alicent may have been the one to raise Aegon, but now? Now he is yours.

The courtyard of the Red Keep bustles with life, knights sparring and squires scurrying about, tending to their duties. Aegon stands in the middle of it all, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he watches the knights with a bemused grin, half-interested, half-distracted. A goblet of wine is clutched lazily in one hand, because of course he’s found a way to turn a casual morning stroll into an excuse for drinking.

"Did you see that, Ser Criston?" Aegon calls out, watching as two knights clash swords with a loud clang. "Not bad, but no match for me." He laughs, though he’s never been particularly interested in actual swordplay. He much prefers the idea of being a great fighter, especially when the wine is flowing.

Ser Criston Cole offers a tight-lipped smile, as he always does when Aegon starts boasting about things everyone knows aren’t true. "Indeed, Your Grace," he says, ever the dutiful Kingsguard, though even his patience is wearing thin.

Aegon takes another sip of wine, glancing toward the entrance to the courtyard just in time to see his younger brother, Aemond, striding purposefully toward him. Aemond, with his ever-straight posture and single piercing eye, always looks like he’s about to declare war on someone. Today is no different. He approaches with his usual air of superiority, his long coat billowing behind him as though he’s a dark storm about to sweep through.

"Aemond!" Aegon calls out cheerfully, raising his goblet in greeting. "You’ve arrived just in time. I was telling the knights here about how truly lucky I am." He lowers his voice conspiratorially, a grin spreading across his face. "To have Y/N as my future wife."

Aemond’s expression doesn’t change. He stops in front of Aegon, his eye narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to determine how much wine his brother has already consumed this morning. "Lucky, you say?" His tone is dry, unimpressed.

Aegon chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Aemond isn’t remotely interested in this conversation. "Oh, absolutely. She’s the most beautiful woman in the realm, wouldn’t you agree?" He claps a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, completely missing the way his younger brother stiffens. "And clever too. The way she speaks to me—like no one else ever has. It’s like she knows me better than I know myself." He sighs, lost in the fantasy of it all. "Aegon the Conqueror himself would be jealous, I swear."

Aemond blinks slowly, as if processing the absurdity of what he’s just heard. "Yes, I’m sure the original Aegon would be incredibly envious of your arrangement," he replies, his voice laced with sarcasm. His gaze flickers toward Ser Criston, who wisely keeps his face neutral, though one can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

But Aegon is far too enamored to notice any of it. "Oh, Aemond, you just don’t understand. Y/N… she’s perfect. Beautiful, charming, sweet… and she’s so attentive to me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "She calls me her king. All the time. Every morning, every night… my king." His eyes sparkle with pride as if this is the pinnacle of all achievements.

Aemond’s eye twitches, just the tiniest bit, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. "I’m sure she does," he mutters, clearly unimpressed by the idea of his brother being doted upon like some pampered pet. "How fortunate for you."

Aegon nods enthusiastically, taking another sip of wine, his cheeks flushed with both alcohol and excitement. "It’s like she worships me," he says, completely missing the biting edge to Aemond’s tone. "I swear, no woman has ever made me feel this way before. I can’t wait for the wedding. She’ll be my queen soon enough."

Aemond crosses his arms, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Your queen," he repeats flatly, though the way he says it makes it sound more like a burden than a blessing. "And what exactly will she bring to this… royal arrangement of yours? Other than your own inflated ego?"

Aegon, completely unbothered by the jab, shrugs. "Love, devotion, all that. She just gets me, you know? It’s as if she was made for me. And gods, the way she speaks to me… she’s so… warm." He sighs contentedly, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Unlike some other women around here." He glances sideways, clearly referencing their mother, though he’s too drunk to bother hiding it.

Aemond’s lips thin into a line. "She manipulates you, brother," he says sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Or are you too blind to see that?"

Aegon blinks at him, confused, then bursts into laughter. "Manipulates me? Nonsense! She adores me. Why would she ever want to manipulate me when she can just… you know… bask in my presence?" He gestures to himself with a flourish, as if he’s presenting a grand prize.

Aemond pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated. "You are hopeless," he mutters under his breath.

But Aegon, ever oblivious, just grins at him. "Hopelessly in love, more like." He sways slightly, his eyes glazed over with more than just affection. "Ah, Y/N… my beautiful lioness…"

Aemond looks at him with something resembling pity, then shakes his head, clearly done with this conversation. "Just… try not to embarrass yourself at court later," he says before turning on his heel and walking away, the stiff set of his shoulders making it clear he’s already resigned to Aegon doing exactly that.

Aegon watches him go, then glances at Ser Criston, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "He’s just jealous, isn’t he?" he says, winking. "Who wouldn’t be, with a woman like mine?"

Ser Criston gives him a measured nod, his expression betraying nothing. "Of course, Your Grace."

And with that, Aegon takes another swig of wine, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

[thegnomelord]

Good Dog

CW: NSFW, DARK-FIC, murder, gore, power imbalance, size difference(reader's bigger), description of torture and brainwashing, oral, anal, blood as lube, plot and exposition with porn, pet play(collars and leashes), toxic relationship, dub-con, very very self indulgent.

Моя гончая- my hound, Хороший солдат - good soldier, Расслабьтесь, братья мои - relax, my brothers, приносить - fetch, есть - eat

The thick door and walls of the private room do nothing to damped the bass of the club pounding in his ears, the annoying music made bearable by the high of a recent victory. Puffs of cigarette smoke lazily curl in the air as Makarov leans further back into the couch, the buzzing sting of a fresh tattoo helping him relax. The scent of expensive liquor only adds to the heady atmosphere, crystal clear vodka swirling in his glass before Makarov takes a sip. His dark eyes peer over the rim of his glass, like doorways to a dark abyss, his gaze dancing across the faces of his most trusted men before settling on the lieutenant's as the man tries to prove his worth with pointless words.

Above all else, Makarov values loyalty.

It doesn't matter how strong a man is if he can't follow orders. The number of soldiers he can lead is pointless when he can't keep his men alive. How well he can shoot is meaningless when he can't devote himself to a cause. A man who is disloyal is a man of single use.

Makarov doesn't even try to listen to whatever drivel the lieutenant's spouting, he doesn't see a reason to sour his mood when he already knows everything: the embezzling, the lying, the adorable double agent act. He has you to thank for that, you'd sniffed the lieutenant out the second you met him, diligently uncovering every speck of dirt the lieutenant had attempted to hide from Makarov.

And you? You are very loyal. His loyal hound.

His fingers curl around the leash, the smooth black leather sliding against his calloused palms. A barely there tug is all it takes for you to lean down over the back of the couch, bracing one large hand near his head for support as the other remains over the grip of your sidearm. You loom over him, and while Makarov may be a fearsome man, he can't deny the type of foreboding fear a goliath like you inspires — a towering figure always a step behind him, broad body big enough to easily cover him fully if you need to take a bullet for him, arms strong and palms wide to easily crack a man's skull.

Settling the glass down he takes another drag of his cigarette, "Hound," Another tug — sharper, harsher; such a small correction yet the fact you needed it at all has acrid disappointment burning on your tongue — makes you bend down more, your face now next to his. He doesn't draw attention to the reprimand, breathing out a puff of smoke near your face. "Were you listening, моя гончая?"

It's a pointless question, he knows you were listening, he trained you to. But he asks because he loves to see the way your eyes darken, jaw tight. The cigarette smoke dances in the air, making the club's low lights reflect off the sharp spikes adorning the thick collar snuggly wrapped around your throat. Your day collar suits you well, no different than the spiked collars put on hunting hounds.

"Yes sir." You answer, your attention now solely on the lieutenant.

Makarov hums, eyes flickering from the lieutenant to you. "And?" He chuckles and lets the leash go, his word keeping you in place as he casually pats your neck. "What did you hear?"

"Lies. . ." The slow slide of his fingers across the uncovered parts of your throat makes your breath stutter, static crackling beneath your skin. "I heard lies, sir." Your answer causes the lieutenant to try and sputter excuses and denials, all cut short by the harsh look you give him.

Makarov chuckles, hooking a finger over the silver loop at the front of your collar, pulling on it and tilting his head so his lips can ghost across your jaw. "Хороший солдат." Makarov murmurs. His stubble scratches your skin as his lips brush a path to your ear, so very close to a lover's kiss.

But a brush of skin is all it is. Nothing more. Your body earns for more, to turn your head and experience the bruising possessiveness of his kiss once again, to feel his teeth bite down on your lip until blood floods both of your mouths. But you don't move; A spoiled dog isn't loyal and Makarov won't lavish you with attention for nothing. no — you must earn it.

"Stay." The soft 'click' of the leash unclipping sounds the same as a sentencing gavel, the strip of leather falling away until only his word keeps you from tearing the lieutenant's throat out with your teeth. Makarov smirks against your skin, his words honey sweet to your ears as he whispers: "Sick him."

That seals the ex-lieutenant's fate.

You're on the lieutenant in an instant, crashing into him like a truck. Makarov leans back and lights up another cigarette as you stomp down on the man's leg, all the weight you carry around bearing down on his bones until they break, erasing any foolish thoughts of escape when you snap the bones of his other ankle; Makarov has truly taught you well.

The screams of a traitor are much better than the atrocious club music, letting him enjoy the smooth burn of the vodka as another stomp breaks a couple of ribs. Some of his men are still nervous around you, trying not to shuffle in their seats lest they grab your attention and become the new outlet of your violence.

"Расслабьтесь, братья мои." Makarov gives a charming smile, resting his ankle on his knee as he takes another drag. "Hound is well trained, you have nothing to fear." He chuckles, lazily watching you as he holds conversation with his lieutenants. Honestly, you're like a dog with a new toy, tossing the man around and pinning him down under your heavy body, each swing of your fists steadily turning the ex-lieutenant's face into pulp.

It's as entertaining for him as it is therapeutic for you.

And to think Price had tried to suppress all that beautiful savageness you possessed.

Makarov remembers how you'd been nothing but a snarling and cursing ball of anger when his men had captured you after a botched mission. He had been both annoyed and amused by how loyal you were to Price, weathering every beating and starving and humiliation with the same 'fuck you' response, baring your teeth like the cornered dog you were. With days turning to months and your resolve refusing to waver under their 'care' Makarov had considered just putting you down, sending a nice video of blowing your skull open to Price but oh — is he glad he decided to indulge in the game your stubbornness presented.

He set out to train you like he would any mongrel mutt, clear expectations making it easy to tell whether your actions would get you a reward or an even worse punishment, giving small rewards for the behavior he wanted; not snarling at him might earn you a better meal. Biting your lip and taking your beating without back talk could get you a couple of minutes outside the claustrophobic walls of your cell. Letting him touch and inspect your body without complaint might reward you with a book or some other little creature comfort he could, and did, easily take away the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course you were weary, perceptive enough to know when he was scheming. But every man has his limits, yours were simply reached when he handed you official C.I.A documents proclaiming you as K.I.A, the mission itself creatively rewritten to sound like you had gone and deserted to the enemy — no one was looking for you, no one was coming to save you, your captain, Price, wasn't coming to save you.

He had taken great enjoyment in running his fingers across your scalp as you clutched the documents in a white knuckled grip, your mind far too worn down to question or guard against the soft touches. His lips had brushed against your ear, soothingly raspy voice comforting you — you're a good soldier, strong, reliable, everything a commander could dream of. It wasn't your fault you trusted the wrong man, truly, what a shame to have your loyalty repaid with betrayed like that.

After that, it became laughably easy to train you. He stuck with simple commands, spoken only in Russian so he could amuse himself with the way your head would tilt before you'd perk up, recognition making your dull eyes brighten before you did what he wanted in exchange for a small scrap of his affection, learning to seek his praise and appreciate his touch even when your body still prickled with disgust. So when he handed you the knife, standing so close you could have easily slit his throat, and ordered you to kill another member of your previous taskforce, you hadn't hesitated for a second. "Good boy." He had purred, caressing your jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood staining your cheek.

"Hound." His voice is as effective as any physical tug on your leash, making you stop mid punch with your fist inches away from the ex-lieutenant's caved in face. You're covered in blood, the rich crimson bringing out the violence swirling in your eyes.

Yet you look at him with utter adoration he wants to shove his cock deep down your throat just so he can see your tears smudge the blood on your cheeks. "Приносить." He taps his thigh.

You nod your head, grabbing the knife strapped to your thigh. There's no hesitation in your movements as you shove the knife into the ex-lieutenant's throat. An arc of blood spurts across your front when you yank it out just to stab another spot, the man coughing and choking as you cut through cartilage and muscle until with a good yank and a sickening 'crack!' you separate the head from the body.

Makarov had never seen the appeal of large hulking brutes until you — your body had filled back out with muscle and fat nicely after you became his, towering body demanding attention simply by existing as you stand up. The loud stomp of your feet and the blood staining your body making you look like a barbarian, casting a shadow over him before you kneel at his feet, offering the decapitated head as a knight does to his king.

Oh yes, he definitely sees the appeal now.

"Good dog." He purrs, reaching out to stroke your jaw, smearing some of the blood with his thumb. Fingers sliding down to hook on the silver ring on your collar he pulls your head closer. "Do you think you earned a reward?"

It's a test. One you're intimately familiar with. The judgmental stares of Makarov's trusted men are the last thing in your mind when the closeness of his body and the sharp crisp scent of his cologne threatens to shatter your resolve. "Only if you permit it, sir." Your throat feels dry, trying not to show how eager you are for his attention as you place the head on the floor so you don't get a drop of blood on him.

Makarov smirks, "Smart dog," His hands move to the back of your neck, unbuckling the collar. You're no longer ashamed to admit you feel naked as the thick piece of leather is pulled away; the time when you didn't have a collar wrapped around your neck feel like a distant memory and now the sensation of breathing without it pressing against your skin is disturbing. You have to bite your lip to keep the low whine from escaping your chest.

His hand wraps securely around your throat, bringing your breath back to you. Your Adam's apple bobs beneath his fingers as he traces the 'V.M' shallowly carved across your throat. "It's already starting to fade." He tuts, squeezing his fingers to restrict your breathing just the slightest bit more. "We'll need to have it tattooed. That would be nice, yes?"

You suck in a sharp breath, "Yes sir."

"Хороший солдат." He purrs. He pulls out another collar from his pocket and you feel yourself chub up in your pants just at the sight of it. It's the chained pronged one he uses exclusively when he wants you to pleasure him, particularly because it leaves such pretty bruises along your skin when he tugs on the leash.

You eagerly tilt your head back to bare your throat, a shudder rushing down your spine as soon as you feel the cold metal against your skin. You stay perfectly still as he secures around your neck, the sharp pull of the leash making the prongs dig into your skin, prickles of pain making you even harder. "Go on," Makarov hums, spreading his legs wider so your attention falls to the hard bulge in his slacks, his belt undone but the rest left to you. "есть."

You don't think you could enjoy servicing him as much as you did if he didn't let you work for it, the reward made sweeter because you earned it. Truly, he's so good to you, you'd thank him profusely but he hasn't given you permission to speak freely. So you lean in, careful not to get blood on his pants as you take the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down. You've done this enough not to have any problems undoing the button, your hands obediently planted on your thighs and your gaze firmly on him so you can see the pleased smirk that spreads across his features when you bite the band of his boxers and pull them down until his cock springs out, already hard.

A pleased sigh escapes him when your warm lips wrap around the head of his cock, the leash wrapped firmly around his hand and the slightest tug on it has pain prickling down your spine. "Моя гончая, don't waste my time." You can't help but whine lowly at the admonishment, quickly trying to make up to him by sucking on the tip and licking the slit in just the way he likes it.

His leg shifts, hard boot coming up to grind the sole against your clothed cock. "That's better." The praise makes you moan deep from your chest and try to take more of his cock into your mouth, your boxers wet and sticky against your own cock as you give an experimental hump of your hips against his boot. You scrape your teeth along the vein on the underside of his cock and it earns you a rough grind of his boot. His hand tangles in your bloodied hair and pulls you down until his cock bumps the back of your throat.

You nearly choke from the sudden pressure, trying to fight off the reflex to pull back and gag. "Look at me." His order rings clear in your head, your eyes meeting his as he grinds your nose into his pubic hair, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your lungs start to burn. You fight through it, the fluttering of your throat making him five a small, rough, moan and fuck — you're hard as a rock.

Just as you feel like you'll pass out on his cock he lets you off, yanking your head back. You're only given a few seconds to take a sharp breath of fresh air before he pushes your head back down. You're prepared this time, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, swallowing around his hard cock. The way you suck Makarov off is wet and sloppy, stealing ragged breaths when you can as you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue and gently nibble on the base when his cock's fully sheathed in your throat, knowing exactly how to please him. Your efforts are rewarded with the salty taste of precum on your tongue, hearing him occasionally mutter his praises in Russian, none of his words snagging on your mind like sharp orders so you let yourself drift in the pleasure of servicing him, subconsciously grinding your cock into his foot.

But you're not mentally gone enough not to notice the squeaking of chairs, your body tensing as you pull up enough so only his head remains in your mouth, your head turned just enough to throw a sharp glare at the other men in the room. Makarov having his guard down like this makes you tense, violence buzzing beneath your skin from the ingrained need to protect him.

"Hound." Makarov's growl is followed by another sharp tug of the leash, the dull ache of the metal prongs digging into your skin dissipating some of your aggression. "Did I tell you to stop?"

You shake your head as best you can, a pathetic whine escaping your chest from the way the pain makes your cock even harder. Satisfied, he eases the leash, letting you return to your work. His head lolls back, lazily looking at his men. He couldn't care less who sees you like this, but now he wants your full attention on him. "Leave." He gives the simple command.

You track the sound of shuffling feet as you take him fully into your mouth, making him hiss a curse under his breath. Nuzzling your nose into his curly pubic hair you breathe in his musk, his heel grinding firmly and consistently against your hard cock, pleasure pulsing through your veins with such intensity you're worried you'll cum without permission, low whines escaping your throat.

He pulls you off him suddenly, your lungs burning as you gasp for air. You expect him to paint your face with his cum, stake an obvious ownership over you. But he doesn't, pulling you by the leash and leaning down to mash your lips together, teeth biting down on your lip until it bleeds.

Makarov's kisses are rough and demanding, the sweet drug your body's been craving, teeth clicking together and tongues swirling in each other's mouths. The firm grind of his boot against your crotch makes you moan lowly, a sound he happily swallows down and nearly shoves his tongue down your throat. You part far too soon, your body craving much much more, but he doesn't let you stew in the disappointment of a short kiss — it's an owner's responsibility to spoil his pet — mumbling against your lips. "Prepare me."

A full shudder runs down your spine and you surge to follow his order. Makarov loves the determined look you get in your eye just as much as he loves the rough way you grip his hips and hike them up so you can pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Your bloodied fingers grip his hips and pull them down until his ass hangs off the edge of the couch, throwing his legs over your shoulders and he can feel the muscles deep in his back strain as you nearly bend him in half, his hard cock and hole bared for you.

It's a vulnerable position, trapped between your bulky frame and the couch he has no way to escape. And if anyone else were to attempt this he would feed every inch of their flesh to themselves. But Makarov relishes the knowledge that he's in control, a single word from him would make you stop regardless of how hard and wanting you were, your loyalty to him as real as the dead man's blood you dip your fingers in to lube them.

Your fingers circle his hole before you press the pad of your finger against it. Without the heat of battle the cold viscousness of the blood feels disgusting, making him shiver and his rim flutter against your digit. But the discomfort is easily forgotten when you apply pressure, the steady and persistent way you push your finger in forcing his muscles to yield. "Shit-" Makarov clenches his teeth; your fingers are so large just one feels like two of his own, the gnawing pain of your finger pushing deeper just amplifying the pleasure of being stretched open and your other hand loosely stroking his wet cock.

You don't go slower than you need to, perfectly trained to know how to move your fingers to keep him teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, each shift and slow drag of your finger pulling deep grunt and soft breaths from between his clenched teeth. "Yes, there you go." His praise makes your heart melt and cock throb in your pants, the pull of the leash bringing your lips together in another harsh kiss. You swallow his moans greedily, pushing a second finger in and curling them in search of his prostate, your thumb incessantly rubbing the space between his balls and ass to trap the spongy flesh between your fingers.

He nearly chokes you with how hard he yanks on the leash, hips pushing back into your hand and walls clenching down on your fingers. The stinging ache of being stretched open mixes with the building pleasure, leaving his skin feeling like a live wire. His teeth dig into your lip until it bleeds again, heels digging into your back. He grinds his hips down on your fingers, muttering praises against your lips as you push a third finger in and force him to take it.

He can't wait any more, gripping your hair and roughly yanking your head back. "Fuck me already." He growls, licking the blood staining your cheek.

You scramble to do as you're told, continuing to stretch him open as you undo your belt and pants with one hand, your hard cock bobbing against your abdomen. Pulling your fingers out you scoop up more blood, the cold helping reign in your lust as you lube up.

Before you can do anything he reaches out to grip the base of your cock, his hold firm and just at the cusp of pain. "You'll be good, yes?" He growls against your lips. "Fuck me good and hard?" His hand moves, stroking you slowly, evenly coating the blood along your cock. "I don't need to show you how to use this thing again, do I?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice.

Fear shoots down your spine, mouth going dry. You'd been too eager for human touch when he first let you mount him, and when you came seconds after getting inside him he'd been less than pleased by your abilities. You couldn't feel your cock for a full week after he'd tied you down and used your cock until you couldn't cum, using a cock ring to keep you hard and using you until he was satisfied.

You quickly shake your head. "No sir," You choke out and bare your throat. "I can do it, I'll be good." You promise.

His hold loosens, tugging you by the hair so he can peck your lips, his tongue licking over the small wound he'd made. "Don't fail me now."

You steel yourself like you're going to war, pressing your cockhead to his hole. Your nails dig into his hip, your grip ironclad to keep him still as you pull him down more and simultaneously push in. There's a second of resistance before your head pops in, the pleasure of entering his velvet soft insides being met with sharp pain as his teeth chomp down on your shoulder through your shirt. It all mixes in your brain into pure bliss, your hips bucking up into him automatically until you're bottomed out. You hold him close to you and leisurely grind your hips, letting him get used to the mind numbing stretch.

Fuck— Makarov may see the appeal of brutes but impaled on your cock he feels like he's being split in two, lungs burning and he can almost swear your tip's poking his diaphragm. He chases the pain more than the pleasure, heels digging into your back to give him some leverage so he can push his hips into yours. "Yes," His head lolls back when you slowly withdraw, only to suddenly snap your hips and hilt yourself inside him again. "-fuck, yes!"

The blood keeps you from tearing him apart but there's too little of it to keep him from feeling the painful stretch, the slow movement of your hips making his thighs shake. "Harder," He demands, yanking on your leash and biting your shoulder again. "Make me feel it." His voice is rough with a demand, because men like him never beg.

"Yes sir," You manage, bracing your feet and setting a rough pace, rutting into him like an animal. He muffles his sounds into your shoulder as your cock saws into him, his walls fluttering and clenching around you so tightly it feels like he'll snap your cock off. You do your best to focus on him and his pleasure, but the tight heat of his hole is rapidly melting any control you have, your cock throbbing and leaking precum inside him.

"Sir, please-" You whine, your muscles tight and your balls feeling so full you feel like you'll burst, your voice full of need. "I'm so close."

“Not yet.” He growls, pushing his hips down to meet your thrusts, your hand stroking his cock. “Make me cum first.” He growls.

You hold back a pathetic whine and redouble your efforts, your rough thrusts bruising his ass as you fuck into him, aiming to nail his prostate every time you bottom out. He wails, whole body shaking, his cock throbbing in your hand and leaking a puddle of precum on his stomach.

Makarov cums without any warning, going rigid and biting your shoulder even harder as pearly cum shoots from his tip, his walls clamping down on your cock. "C- cum!" He snarls, voice muffled, and it's all you need. Bottoming out fully you moan as you shoot his insides full of your cum, rocking your hips and grinding your cock against his prostate to prolong both of our highs.

You hold him close as you come down to reality but the way his walls clench around your cock makes you feel like heaven. His hands grip your jaw, bringing you down into a disorganized sloppy kiss. He's boneless in your arms, his walls continuing to flutter around you. "That was good." He slurs, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. "Good dog."

The tug of the leash is expected and Makarov kisses the corner of your lips, tongue swiping across your skin to lick up more of the blood staining your lips. "Clean me up." He orders, "Lick up your mess." He growls, and there's not a single part of you that would refuse him.

Tag list: @lieutnt, @pastelclovds @thee-great-enigma @vladimirking24

[felassan]

Source: posted to Twitter just now by Jon Renish [link]

Transcript:

"Terminated BioWare Employees Sue for Better Severance On August 23 of this year, Edmonton video game studio BioWare ULC terminated 50 employees without cause. In most recent court cases of termination without cause, Alberta Courts have awarded at least one month of severance pay per year of service, with the full value of all benefits included; the severance that BioWare offered to these employees was significantly less than this amount. Several of those ex-employees attempted to negotiate with BioWare for adequate severance, but BioWare refused to increase its severance amounts. Seven employees, with an average of 14 years at BioWare, have refused to accept BioWare's low offers, and have filed a Statement of Claim with Alberta's Court of King's Bench, requesting fair severance pay and including a request for punitive damages for what they say is unreasonably poor treatment by BioWare. "In light of the numerous recent industry layoffs and the fact that BioWare's NDAs prevent us from showing any of our recent work on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf in our portfolios, we are very concerned about the difficulty many of us will have finding work as the holiday season approaches," said one of the terminated employees, "While we remain supportive of the game we worked so hard on, and of our colleagues continuing that work, we are struggling to understand why BioWare is shortchanging us in this challenging time." R. Alex Kennedy, counsel for the seven employees, says that even in cases where BioWare has contracts that discuss termination, BioWare may have included illegal provisions: "There are many situations where employers include termination provisions that are not enforced by the Courts," he said, "and I think we see that in this case too. BioWare attempted to reduce its obligation to these employees well below what the courts typically award, including by eliminating benefits from its termination pay - that appears to be contrary to the Employment Standards Code." In Kennedy's opinion, these employees deserve generous severance pay: "These people are artists and creators who have worked very hard and for a very long time in a difficult industry, producing big profits for their employer. Their termination without cause en masse like this calls for a response. Employers here can terminate anyone at any time without cause, but with that right comes a responsibility to the people they put in that situation.""

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could have a Emperor Caracalla x reader where because of his disease he doesn't recognise her for a moment when they're about to make love and she has to calm him down

I am here and no one else

Emperor Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, choking and using knife, cuddling, crying

Summary : They had been together many times, they saw and felt each other. It reassured her that he was aware of her, that Caracalla was not lost in madness, but on the night of the full moon when they were in bed together, madness crept into his mind and next to him was no longer the woman he loved and had married.

info : Thank you very much for the request dear anon it is a pleasure to get another request for Caracalla, enjoy reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His blue eyes had been so clear a few years ago, when the sun was above them and the people had cheered them both and his smile was sincere and honest.

The wedding of the emperor Caracalla and his wife the sun roms was cheered and no shadow had settled over the imperial family, it was a dream, a beautiful dream that seemed so far away when she looked at her beloved husband now.

His eyes clouded with madness, bloodied when he saw the battles in the colloseum and his temper erratic, she loved him, loved him through it all but with each passing day she feared for him, for his brother and herself. Because if madness prevailed, Caracalla himself would not stop at her and Geta, they were sure of that.

The whole day, however, he seemed like a miracle, but clear from breakfast he remembered what appointments were coming up today, ,,The ring is especially flattering to my sun” he had wooed her at noon on the way to the Senate.

Even in that he not only supported his brother but also ignored the lies of the senators, he seemed to clearly recognize what Geta was pursuing and stood up for his values. It was moments that brought tears to her eyes as she seemed to wander back into the past dream.

A ring he had bought her, it was small things, but it was these small moments that gave her and Geta hope that things would get better, even in the coliseum Caracalla remained relatively calm.

,,The credit goes to the victor!” he extended a rare moment of grace when even Geta would have decided otherwise and she saw in the older man's gaze that he was proud of his brother.

The day had been blessed by the gods it seemed from the moment the sun rose until now but such protection can be deceiving.

After dinner the three of them planned to keep to themselves, but keeping to themselves ended in togetherness for Caracala and her.

Kisses exchanged in the hallway, hands holding each other and clothes removed, ,,Such beauty,” he said, searching her lips a second time as they both changed from their tunics into those for the night.

Naked skin disappeared under silken fabric, gazes resting on each other, bright eyes looking at their bodies and seeing only pure beauty, ,,You are so beautiful,” he heard a giggle as she turned in her clothes and came towards him in another kiss that led them to the bed.

Soft fur and pillows caught her and she ran them through blonde curls, she loved him, loved his art, his laugh and giggle, his pretty eyes and golden curls, ,,You're more beautiful” she murmured and tapped the tip of his nose as they both let go of each other for a moment.

Reaching to the side table next to the table wine had been provided and grapes he held the goblet out to her and she placed the grape to his lips, it was a quiet moment, a moment between adults, a moment that was not possible in his madness, ,,Your flattery is both amusing and sweetening” he said eating the grape and savoring the sweetness on his tongue.

She put the goblet aside after a sip and ran her hands over his pale torso, the small scars and inconsistencies of his illness were not ugly to her.

She smiled at his words, circling his skin as he leaned over her, his lips searching her face, but in the darkened room where the torches provided light, his eyes saw the wine on her lips.

Dark...dark red...blood red.

A color that made him pause kisses that he continued to return but his fingers that touched her, from her neck where he heard her pulse to her soft breast became more and more strange.

Stranger and stranger with each blink her appearance became more distant, with each kiss she smelled and tasted less like his wife and he caught the scent of her blood.

Blood like at a birth, blood that no longer threatened to flow through him and blood of a madness that he had to stop in her, ,,You-you're not her!” he cried out, interrupting the kiss and his fingers wrapped around her neck, fingernails clawing into her skin and her eyes opened in shock.

Air that was drastically and quickly no longer inflicted on her his name came broken from her lips, her hands clutching at his wrist trying to gently reassure him at first.

,,It's me...it's your wife” she rattled fluttering eyes trying to find his gaze, to find her husband. Instead, he only squeezed harder, seeming neither to hear nor recognize her...and in that moment she realized that her nightmare that his madness would kill her had come true.

Her legs kicked, trying to throw him off her, but there was a power in him that she didn't know he had, a power that made her slowly see black spots.

Fear and adrenaline flowed through her body, ,,Cara-Caracalla” she gasped trying unsuccessfully to calm him, she looked around the flash of the knife caught her eye, tears ran down her eyes as he pushed her harder into the pillows the giggles were replaced by screams as she cut his arm with the knife.

Her fingers just managed to grab it, she would never have wanted to hurt him but if blood was what made him run away, maybe it was blood that brought him back.

His scream continued to echo through the chamber as he held his arm away from her as if he had been burned and she took a deep coughing breath, tears streaming from her eyes.

Caracalla rolled off the bed screaming and crying as he hit the floor and pressed himself against the wall as his gaze lifted and he began to scream again, ,,I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry...what have I done!” he said over and over again as the sticky blood ran down his arm, staining it and he realized when he saw the desaturated state she was in.

Coughing and struggling to get air back into her lungs, she slowly got up from the bed, swaying, her voice failing as she tried to speak and coughing a gesture that only made him cry more.

She came slowly towards him, he pushed himself further away from her, ,,Stupid, a monster...a delusional one" he reproached himself as his face settled in his hands and she hugged him, holding him trembling as she slowly began to breathe regularly again, stroking his head.

She shook her head and took a piece of her robe to wipe the blood off his arm, ,,Not-it's not your fault. I'm alive you see I'm alive my king” she replied and clasped his hands, forcing him to look at her as she kissed his hands and looked at his reddish neck and saw his face, his hideous work.

Before he could cry again, she pressed him to her, kissed his forehead and his fingers clutched at her body, ,,You're still alive?” he asked the question so obviously that she laughed and nodded, ,,Yes! Yes, it's me here,” she said, putting his hand on her chest, his hand feeling her heartbeat, and he breathed shakily.

His smile just as pleased as hers as he engaged her in a kiss, holding onto her and the other way around as the two of them sat there on the floor bloody kissing, reassuring each other that they were still alive.

As he held her hand he told her, ,,Never again...I will never lose control like this again” he promised her, tapping the tip of her nose as she had gestured as the imperial couple remained sitting there holding and loving each other.

That despite the strangulation marks on her body and the blood on his, they loved each other no less than before and no madness would change such love and care.

They were bound by blood and love and they would be until the end of madness if they loved each other forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @sigiismunda , @somepallings , @naysha140 , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs

[separatetheyolk]

Hidden In Plain Sight | Charles Leclerc X Faceless!Driver!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Charles Leclerc

ʚɞ you value your privacy. As an F1 driver keeping said privacy can be a little hard. Especially when people don't respect your decision.

ʚɞ warnings: boundaries crossed

ʚɞ word count: idk i cba to count but its p small

ʚɞ note: FL stands for 'first initial, last initial' so for example mine would be 'N' for first name 'G' for last name. Drivers know what you look like, general public does not. Making 'NG28'. The first photo took an embarrassingly long time to make

f1

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1.5M others

f1 Breaking: 'Faceless driver' FL28 will drive for redbull for 2025

user1 do we even know his eye colour?

user2 sadly not :(

user3 Can't you guys just respect his boundaries?

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc

------------------------

"Why can't they just respect your boundaries?" Charles called from the kitchen sounding rather frustrated with the way you were being treated. "The amount of times we've had to convince broadcasters to give up their footage. It's like you're some animal that was believed to be extinct."

You sighed softly, moving to pick up Leo once the dog had reached the outside patio. Stepping inside, shutting and locking the sliding door. "You dangle a carrot in front of a pig, it'll try to bite" You spoke, following him to the living room. You set yourself down on the sofa, leaning into Charles' side and set Leo down. Watching the dog run up and down the remaining length of the furnature.

"You calling fans and broadcasters pigs?" Charles chuckled, raising an eyebrow and looked down to you. His hand rose from your waist to your hair, combing his fingers through your locks.

"Only those who don't respect my boundaries." You lent into the touch, any tension fizzing from your body slowly. "It won't be forever though. Plan to drop small hints this season.. maybe even reveal my face. As annoying as it is for people to try and work out who I am, it's funny to watch them lose their shit."

"Must be nice though. To just go out alone, dressed as any other person and not get hounded by people wanting autographs and photos.. no?" Charles spoke, picking up the remote and moved to put on a movie. Not really paying attention to what it was he had put on but you recognised it as Narnia. "As much as I appreciate people's support all I want to do is get a loaf of bread."

------------------------

f1

Liked by lewishamilton and 503k others

f1 And that's a win for FL28 in Japan! 🏆

comments

user1 SKIN SKIN I SEE SKIN

user2 AAAAAA I SEE HIS FACE

user3 Possible face drop???

user4 idk but I wouldn't blame him if he kept his face a secret this is a whole new level of obsession

------------------------

"Hey!" Charles shouted, shoving a strangers hand away from grabbing the mask covering half your face. "Will you people leave him alone!" you felt his hand run to the back of your head, directing your face to his shoulder. Your eyes fixed to the ground as he led you through the crowd and into a suspiciously quiet building. Recognising it as a building for authorised personnel only

"Causing a ruckus as usual, hmm?" You heard, looking up to find Carlos approaching the two of you. "How are they treating you? Better than last season I hope?"

"About the same, if not more desperate-"

"I wasn't talking about the fans." He gestured to your shirt, frowning softly. "They've been pretty harsh on Max from what I hear.. Why that man hasn't left the team I'll never know."

"He wants his fifth. That's the team he believes can get him there. Everything's okay.. a little tougher than last year. Trying to train me up to take his spot when he retires so not only is there that usual red bull pressure to keep my seat, I need to preform the best I can." You glanced back to the doors when you felt Charles' hand on your waist, leading you away from prying eyes wordlessly. "How's Williams treating you?"

"Ahh.. cars pretty shit. But it will probably be that way until next seaon. Pushing the thing just to get P10." Carlos looked to you as you waked. "The whole new main guy of red bull.. that isn't the reason you want to reveal your face.. is it?"

------------------------

f1

Liked by youeusername, oscar_piastri and 506k others

f1 AND IT'S POLE FOR FL28 IN BAHRAIN

Comments

user1 I SEE EYES

user2 ENHANCE ENHANCE

user3 God I hate this side of the f1 fandom

Liked by yourusername

------------------------

f1.leaks

Liked by 1.4M others

f1.leaks THIS JUST IN! Red Bull FL28 has been revealed to be Y/N L/N and what's more, seems to be in some sort of a relationship with Ferrari's river Charles Leclerc!

More on this development later!

comments

user1 this is actually disgusting omg

user2 take this post down

user3 he's so hot omg

user4 ofc he is

user5 This is a major violation of privacy

------------------------

"Babe- babe wake up-" Charles shook you awake desperately, hands shaking. "Babe- babe come on, they leaked your face!" that seemed to snap you out of it, jumping awake and immediately sitting up. Greated with a phone being shoved in your hand.

You stared at it for a moment, swallowing thickly before shaking ypur head. "I was planning on revealing my face sometime soon but.. The relationship.." You two hadn't even had a chance to talk about it being known publicly. It wasn't exactly a known fact that Charles liked men, much less dating one. But even if that was revealed, keeping who he was with a secret wasn't exactly a hard task. But for both pieces to be released at once? "I-I didn't even see the phone.. I'm so sorry babe oh my God-"

"Hey hey I couldn't care about the relationship being known. What I care is that your face is and before you're ready for it to be. What do you want to do about it?"

------------------------

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1.3M others

Yourusername well, I had wanted to show my face on my own terms. And we had wanted to announce our relationship at our own pace. But it seems that some of you can't even give us that luxury.

Anyway, rumours are true, here's some of my favourites from the past three years with my fav.

@/charles_leclerc <3

I need to get back into the groove of writing omg

[northopalshore]

Pick A Card: ☆

Your next relationship

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Choose an image & group respectively.

Pile one:

Decks used: Dreaming way tarot, sacred earth oracle, oracle of mystical moments & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

So immediately jumping in, your next relationship will be with someone who is very goal driven. They are very passionate, intelligent & skillful. This person may have come from a lower financial status growing up. Only being able to get by on a daily basis. This person has probably been surrounded by amazing and talented people who are very dedicated to their craft, and hence grown to develop a similar habit.

Their main goal in life is to get rich lol. They want to be at a point where they can look back and not recognise themselves in the position they once were in financially. This is somebody who works wholeheartedly on their craft. They may be involved in independent business or they are working on their own brand.

They may have a very young heart as well, always looking at things from a hopeful perspective. However, they are also very logical! They are able to plan their ventures and predict things that may or may not happen with every step that they take towards their goal! That desire to change their lives will always remain as a priority & main motivation for them to continue on their path.

This person will likely have an extroverted approach to life. Wanting to explore and see everything the world has to offer.

Their career may be very competitive, and their ideas or brand may come under scrutiny very often. If they work ina directive company for example, people was have dissatisfactions with how they present themselves or thing they may be to rash when coming up with new suggestions. However, they are resilient lol! I feel like they have a lot of potential for greatness, but by the time you meet them they are somewhere in the middle of their journey.

Your relationship will be intertwined with your career. This person will be the one to get your engines running, and to reignite that passion you might have held out in the rain before. They will act as a guide to you and help you realise things you may have overlooked before.

They will prove themselves to be a very stable companion. They will teach you to be fearless & confident when it comes to your passions and beliefs.

I feel like you'll bond over common interests and backgrounds . They may be from a different race than you as well! If you work with your hands i.e build, writing, drawing, animating and so on, this person will be on your side during sudden late night inspirational drives lol. This means they will be awake with you, talking and supporting what you do even when you're both supposed to be asleep.

You will be able to draw out the both the passionate and gentle side of eachother. Respecting boundaries and personal wishes going forward.

I feel like you'll meet them through chance, or coincidentally you work in the same department for example but you will be able to click immediately.

They could have Libra, Cancer, Gemini & Pisces placements in their charts.

MBTI wise, I feel like they could be an ENFJ, ENFP, ESTJ, ESTP, ENTP, & INTJ.

Pile two:

Decks used: Modern witch tarot, bluebird lenormard & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

Oooh pile two, this person is honestly incredible.

So first of all, they are someone very optimistic & rational. They perhaps have been born into wealth or have been blessed with a higher position in life than most. They are very mature and very calm & collected. When they speak, people may find it impossible to dispute them or overtake them. This person perhaps is great at debates or could work as a lawyer (or come from a family of lawyers). They are the type to value intelligence & fair judgement over any irrationality. They could be an only child or grew up being cared for fully by their parents. They may have shown great leadership qualities even from a young age. They are very humble & down to earth despite being at a position of power. They could own a business or inherit a business from their family. You will think that they are a dream come true or even too good to be real. Perhaps they were very studious in their younger years, performing much better than other students or seen as more mature relative to people their age. I feel like this might as well be the person you end up marrying because four of wands has shown up lol. Their parents could be divorced or living in different countries/states. They may have developed objective opinions on marriage as well. For example, if they are a woman they do not think that a man can provide her with anything she doesn't already have. They could want to marry for love rather than business or for practicality. They want to form genuine relationships with people they know are worthwhile (in their perspective). Perhaps people have used them as a means to lift themselves up and this has hurt your person. Your relationships could be very flirtatious. You both may be quite weary of eachother at first but you will soon find comfort in eachother's presence. Perhaps you will discover a soft side neither of you could have expected you'd get to. It reminds me of Anastasia and Dimitri's relationship lol. Rocky at the start but they soon develop deep feelings for eachother. They could have Sagittarius, Leo, Pisces, Aquarius & Virgo prominent in their charts. MBTI wise, they could be an ENTJ, INTJ, ENFJ, ENFP, INFJ, ISTJ, ISTP & INTP.

Pile three:

Decks used: VOX ( voice of tarot) arcana, The literary witches oracle & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧

Welcome pile 3! So your next relationship will be with someone who I can only describe as stubborn & possessive but very unique and full of ambition. I feel like this person has had a fair share for admirers or past relationships that may not have ended very well, and has since then been quite abstinent of love or the dating scene.

They have since learned to control their energy, and find satisfaction in being alone with themselves i.e putting themselves before relationships.

They may be quite materialistic or pay a lot of attention to their finances. They are very tactical and resourceful. There may have been disagreements or issues regarding their finances. Perhaps they have had legal issues with the company they work with or there may be issues with inheritance.

This person is extremely charming and charismatic. They may have the ability to sweep you off your feet & without even realising it you'll fall for their many charms lol. They could be quite hot hearted ( & hot headed) as well, and very direct with their feelings. Your relationship will be hot and passionate, you will feel like you have manifested eachother into your lives.

They may break the expectation you might have regarding the type of people you would usually go after romantically i.e their personality will be more in your face instead of quiet and reserved.

You may be thrill seekers when you are together, and you may find that the energy can be very heavy or s*xual. You will have a lot of fun in that department lol.

They can act sort of tsundere too as in they may act mischievously or playfully, they could also like to see you getting riled up 👀 lmao. They could have Taurus, Capricorn, Scorpio, Pisces, Leo & Aries prominent in their chart. MBTI wise, they could be ENTP, ENTJ, ESTP, ENFP, ESTJ, ISTP, ISFP & ISTJ

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***entertainment purposes only: reader discretion is advised***

None of the images are mine, all rights reserved to their original creators on Pinterest

Thanks for reading!

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 pick a card.

[myeagleexpert]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕠 𝕠𝕟

Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected) Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music….

Summary: Despite everything, the show must go on. Warnings: Mention of healing processes, Reader has a trigger in the middle of an important show Mention: Reader as YN, Dick Grayson, Friend!Reader Note: This fic takes place before the events of Not [ ], before they meet Reader and become yandere because of her. Check out and value the original author's work, it's a very complete and interesting fic! < 3 You can find more of this here

“YN! YN! YN!” the crowd screamed her name, the fans excited to see their favorite idol, wanting more of her performance.

The makeup artist was applying the final touches to her vibrant makeup while the hair stylist was reshaping the curls of her wig. The final touches before going on stage again while they were backstage.

“Everyone loved your performance! They’re screaming for you out there!” says one of the dancers excitedly

“The last song was amazing, YN! We can feel the energy here!” praises the makeup artist while touching up the glitter in her eye

“Aaaah that’s great! I’m not nervous like last time so it’s good to see it’s working out!” Yn says while drinking water, her first times on stage had been shy and awkward, but after overcoming that initial barrier today she performs with confidence, dancing and interacting with the audience masterfully.

“1 minute to get back on stage guys!” one of the organizers warned, making everyone there, including YN, mentally prepare for yet another amazing choreography.

You can do it, YN! she started to motivate herself mentally while reviewing the next song.

“M ama ma i make my own mantra……”

Ow, the broccoli loved this song! My broccoli like the choreography!

“30 seconds!”

I should have run for my music career before, the broccolis supported me from the beginning, why did it take me so long to do this?

“20 seconds!”

Ow….. I remembered, because of them…… just thinking about everything that happened at Wayne Manor, YN's vibe and mood drop, the magazine cover smile is replaced by a blank look and under eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“10 seconds!”

Why am I thinking about them now? They don't even deserve to be in my thoughts. It's showtime, Yn, focus!

“3….2….1”

“Time to go on stage! It’s showtime!” the crew starts cheering and clapping with YN, getting into the festive show mood as they enter the stage

“WHATS UPS BROCCOLISSS?!” YN excitedly greets them through the microphone, the audience goes wild, screaming and raising the show props.

The house is full, today the show is in one of the biggest concert venues in London, with all the floors packed and the VIP area swarming with important people, reporters, cameras, today is a success! YN’s costume shines and stands out in the dark house, with sparkles and sequins that reflect the light in shades of pink and blue, the wig sets her apart like an anime protagonist and the dancers dance with expression and boldness. It's at these times that YN feels on top of the world, not out of arrogance but out of belonging… this is her place, this is what she does best. Her heart is full of joy as she jumps choreographing with the dancers, she feels light even when she sings with all her body and soul. And it's exactly at these moments, when life likes to poke at the wound…

Amidst the lights of the place while YN was catching her breath, she saw out of the corner of her eye, among the many people in the stands, a person suspiciously similar to him… Dick Grayson. The breath she was trying to recover to get into the next part of the song gets stuck in her throat as she remains paralyzed while searching for that man in the crowd.

"It's not possible… it can't be him… not today!"

Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's eldest son, the first Robin, the boy prodigy… these are some of the names and titles he received throughout his life, but all YN wanted to call him was brother. His image was warm and kind, always hugging the other brothers and helping the new Robins adapt, transforming this time with them into something familiar and a memory to keep in the colorful albums of the mind… but why not me? Why does everyone have the right to his charming smile while I am left with the stiff back of ignorance? Why could everyone spend time with him while I was always the last option?

Why? Why? Why?

And unexpectedly, Yn was no longer a confident singer on the path to success, she was a defenseless and insecure girl who sought affection from her brother. She felt transported to the terrible mansion again in a state of agonizing nostalgia, where her small hands tried to intertwine with his with hope… only for him to let go of her hand with a not very disguised look of disgust.

“Oh YN, I can't stay with you now! I have to go to patrol!” With an unapologetic smile, Dick entered the movie theater where his friends from the Teen Titans were for one of their many hang outs.

Yn knew she didn't have the love of Bruce, her father, but was she so terrible that she didn't deserve her brother's affection?

“Can I really call you brother?”

No, you don't deserve it.

At that moment, little voices in her head conspired with YN. Imposter Syndrome? Who knows? She seemed to be slowly succumbing to the many memories of the mansion, the turned backs and the disgusted eyes, the neglect, the cruelty, the shadows in the corner of the smallest room in the house that seemed to be the only refuge besides Alfred himself, who, despite having done everything in his power, still did not fill the emptiness that the girl felt…

Walls full of gold, silver and bronze medals and trophies from various sports, records and photos with important people would be enough to make anyone feel proud of the honors and merits conquered with their own sweat. But for the innocent girl, they were just poor failed plans to get the family's attention. It is no wonder that, when she left the mansion, she left her belongings and the glories of her childhood in the same room without looking back, with the idea of ​​a new path to be taken.

"YN, you go in now." The manager said through the singer's earpiece, counting the seconds for her to enter the chorus……but she didn't enter "YN?"

She was thinking too much, lost in thought, thinking too much……

Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't I enough? Why? Why?

"YN, are you okay?"

Why was I so lonely? Why didn't anyone want to play with me?

With great skill, the singer next to YN pulled a remix for the two's song when he realized that something was wrong while the stage management called YN backstage, she went there on robotic stages with her hand on the communicator, making the audience think it had just been a technical problem. They got her water and sat her in a chair.

ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₮Ø ₲Ɇ₮ ₵ⱠØ₴Ɇ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ₥, ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₣ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ₥… ₴Ø ₩ⱧɎ ₩₳₴₦'₮ ł₮ Ɇ₦ØɄ₲Ⱨ? ₩ⱧɎ ₵ØɄⱠĐ₦'₮ ₮ⱧɆɎ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵Ø₥Ɇ?

"YN, are you okay?" the manager asked, he had been with YN since she started taking her first baby steps in her music career, it was a worrying scene to see her cold and without answering a word, he frowned as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder “YN… we are here with you, what is going on?”

₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ

“Why?…” she murmured, frowning as she looked up, still lost in old memories and some random point on the ceiling. The confused manager turned his head slightly, confused about what she was talking about.

Friend!Reader, who was nearby and recognized what was happening, as he had been by her side several times when this happened, approached and told the manager that he would take care of her.

“Hey, Earth to YN, what happened there?” he said, hugging YN, she didn’t return the hug, she just stayed leaning against him like a corpse.

“Friend!Reader…?”

“Yes, YN?” he asked

“Why, Friend!Reader…… why not me?” and with whispered words she buried her face in Friend!Reader's shoulders, as she let herself be carried away by the contained emotions and he hugged her trembling form tighter.

The wound that was beginning to heal was opening again, like a bandage aggressively ripped off a skin that was being reconstructed. The wound in her mind pulsed with a constant pain, a memory of something that had never been completely healed. Like a poorly made scar on her skin, the pain was a constant reminder of something that no matter how much she tried to ignore it and start from scratch, it still hadn't been resolved.

Like medicines that have a set time until the end of their effect and at some point, the pain returns, that was Yn's focus while she convinced herself that everything was fine and that she had overcome the situation…. sooner or later the effect wears off, and the pain returns. But while she tried to heal, each emotional trigger seemed to rip the wound open again, causing uncomfortable and uneasy feelings…

“I saw one of them, Friend! Reader… I'm not sure, but… I know I saw him! In the corner of the show, my show….” she whispered to him, almost in tears

“Calm down, YN, let's talk about this…”

“He was there! I'm sure the others must be there too… laughing at me, saying I'm not good enough to be on stage… or maybe, maybe he doesn't even recognize me, you know?”

“That's enough, YN!” said the friend, shaking the singer by the shoulders. He hated seeing her like that, so insecure and fragile. “You can stop right there!”

“You're one of the best people I know, and my best friend! You're really good at what you do, you have an excellent voice and you dance really well! YOU'RE AMAZING!” He continued with a smile on his face “And if a family of rich kids didn’t know how to recognize that in you, that’s their problem! Screw them! If I ask anyone out there, they’ll give you a list of 100 reasons why you’re amazing!”

Then he points to the screen that showed the audience singing and having fun.

“Those people do like your music, but they didn’t come because your music sticks like chewing gum” he jokes and is relieved when he sees a smile on her sad face “They’re here because they admire you YN, whether it’s with a YouTube channel or on a social network all dressed up.”

He then puts a finger on her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“So no insecurity here, no self-sabotage, no sad memories… not here! You’re my best friend, and you’re at the peak of your career. So go out there and ROCK!” With that, Friend!Reader gives YN a big hug and gets excited when he sees that her friend is starting to get back to normal.

“What did you write in those diaries?”

“So many things, I don’t remember right now..” you laugh lightly “But now, the ones I hope like my music are my fans.”

“YES! AND WHAT WILL THEY REALIZE WHEN THEY READ YOUR DIARY?”

“THAT THEY DON’T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!” The two cheer and joke around with each other, with the support of Friend!Reader, she starts to get excited and return to the stage, singing louder and stronger, entering the chorus of the remix.

She remembered the reserved and empty seats of her first shows, all reserved for family, and saw that years later, strangers occupied all the seats in the concert hall. She remembered when she was little, she would rehearse alone in her rooms for school auditions, and now she sings for a large auditorium in one of the biggest capitals in the world. She remembered lame excuses and looks of contempt, and realized that everyone there was looking at her with admiration and love.

Her family wasn't in a haunted mansion, they were backstage taking care of her, they were on stage dancing and singing with her. She knows who the real ones are, so why worry about the ones who aren't? They say that time heals, but in truth, it's the process that heals. It's painful. Agonizing. But when it's over, you look back and realize how much you've come from it.

She sang with every lyric and every syllabary, she intoned the words with truth and determination, she proclaimed from the bottom of her heart with strength to everyone at the concert and to herself:

“HAVE YOU SEEN, COME AND READ MY DIARY THEN YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU DONT MEAN S H I T TO ME”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

@imaginarydreams I hope you like this version of the good ending :D

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