#If you do I will send you one never posted before !

[t0esniffer69]

FYI:

this is very likely fake. i have seen a lot of posts and messages like this before.

these “gore invasion” things are usually made up to spread panic among communities, i have never once seen one of these that are real.

i dont recommend spreading this post, theres almost no chance that its real and it is not worth giving in to the trolls and spreading this around.

if you really want to turn off your asks, you can but this will probably not happen, and if it does then it will be on a very small scale, as any trolls will probably not be able to get enough people to send gore to a shitload of people on tumblr.

tumblr will automatically blur images in asks from people who you do not follow, so even if you do receive things like that just dont click the image and delete the ask.

please do not reblog things like this without a source.

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[hachiane]

ranking the LADS boys on who takes the best Instagram photos

a/n — just my headcanons!! may be OOC, majorly she/her reader pronouns

count : 950 words

#1 Rafayel Qi

— takes one look at your inspo photos and scoffs, “puh-leaase, i can do better than that.”. under his calm exterior, his painter's eye is roaring to life, the gears in his brain immediately turning when your phone is passed into his hands.

Rafayel matches your freak instantly and pretends he is like every photograph boyfriend every it-girl online seems to have; he's guiding you to pose, where to place your hands, tilt your face so he captures all your best angles, even the ones you didn't think you had. your personal hypeman as he snaps away, "yesss, cutie! you look so good!' "kill me with those sexy eyes of yours!" "makeup on point! show off your pretty lashes!"

it doesn't end there. Rafayel is also looking over your shoulder helping you choose the best shots, giving his small comments and suggestions as you edit them in your phone, things like "up the contrast, the shadows are dark in this one" or "why are you cropping like that? this makes you look taller".

after your impromptu photoshoot, he sings praises about you being the most beautiful muse, the cutest bodyguard. and of course, you have to take some couple selfies with him too as reward for his hard work.

Rafayel is your first like, first comment when you post, bombarding your notifications with comments. “that’s my bodyguard right there 😍” “you’re sooooooo hot 🔥🔥” “slay queen 💅🏼✨”

he'll do everything again, no doubt about it.

#2 Xavier Shen

— when you asked him the first time, he was hesitant. he says he read a book about it but never put it to practice, warning you that you might be disappointed. you shove your phone into his hands and that you're fine with whatever he gets in the end. (unintentionally that awakens his inner prince, determined to ensure his princess look her best in every frame)

the entire time, Xavier says nothing. you hear him snap away and hum to himself, but he's not saying anything to you; doesn't tell you how to pose, where to place your hands or if you should be looking at him. so most of the time, you’re by yourself testing out the poses you saw online and placing your blind, full-hearted trust that he gets the picture you imagined. 

the thing is, while poses look good on you, Xavier behind the camera much prefers your candid moments, because these says much more about you than poses other people have thought of. you in your natural state is the most beautiful to him, and he says so, “i only take pictures of pretty things and you like this is the most pretty to me”.

later, being the old soul he is, he purchases a polaroid printer to get physical copies of your photos and stashes them away in a journal or box, for these memories of you deserve to last lifetimes.

#3 Sylus Qin

— his pictures of you are decent enough. when you asked him the first time, he says he’ll get you a personal photographer if you so desire good photos, but your cutesy pleading and debating your point about the sentimental value of photos taken by him makes him give in. he follows your inspo photos to the T, but because of his height, you notice the angles are slightly higher than what they should be. like Xavier, he doesn't tell you how to pose; he just taps away on the shutter button as he moves around you here and there, occasionally hunching down for a low angle shot, with his other hand in his pocket, nonchalant as Sylus usually is.

accidentally left the live photo feature on for most of your photos, and while perturbed at first, those become his favourites; he gets to see a glimpse of your genuine smile at his ministrations before your expressions snap into a smouldering, radiant look that he would fall to his knees for time and time again. he sends the photos to himself afterwards without asking, shrugging when you question him about it when he was being so indifferent at first, “sentimental value, kitten”.

#4 Zayne Li

— unfortunately, Zayne takes photos like an aged father with two daughters; straight on, no angles, no direction, not much effort given the first few times. but after seeing your slightly disappointed look as you review the photos, even when you reassure him you're okay with them, he knows he’d done you wrong.

the next day, Zayne promptly asks his female colleagues and acquaintances with a photography hobby at the hospital for some tips and crash courses. of course they oblige him (because who could say no to the Dr Zayne when he asks for a favour?) with simple go-tos and the tricks. and Zayne being Zayne, he notes them all down in his personal notebook, studies it in his downtime, brings it home to read and practice on some "subjects" lying around the house: your collectible figures, the fresh bouquet for the living room, and so forth.

the next time the opportunity comes up, he breaks it to you he's been studying for this exact moment and asks if you would give him another attempt. although the photos end up not what you expected when he said he's been "learning", it's miles better than the first few times. Zayne would look at you expectantly for your reaction, and he heaves a sigh of assured relief when you compliment his improvement. when you post the recent photo he took of you, he cracks the widest smile he's had all week, liking and saving the photo to make it his phone background (though you've probably already sent it to him).

[fatherbrat]

cw. prequel to this. college au hockey player!sukuna. fatherbrat’s 2nd hugh hefner costume mention. reader is drunk. crack-esque. sfw, 1.3k words.

the first time you meet sukuna is at a halloween party. 

(it’s technically your halloween party. it isn’t your house or anything, but the boys that live there are happy to let you host as long as it means a house full of girls and none of the responsibility of setting up. you're happy to fulfill their requests, since it means you can have things go your way and then dip at the end of the night, leaving the post-party cleaning up to them.)

needless to say, you and sukuna do not make good first impressions. you would blame the alcohol, but honestly, it wouldn’t have gone any different if you were sober. 

he arrives at the party in a group. you recognize one of them—the tall, smiley one with impossibly white hair who sits behind you in biochem. he’s dressed up like a character from an snl skit, clad in an ill-fitting suit and round sunglasses with a present box glued to his pelvis.

you don’t recognize the one who comes in behind him, but he’s sexy and tanned and has a mustache. he’s also wearing the same costume as the white-haired one. gojo, you remember. isn’t he on the hockey team?

you immediately pull out your phone, searching up the school’s official instagram page for the hockey team. there they are, front and center in the most recent post. the third guy with them—the one with black hair and the scar that runs through his lip—is in the picture too. he’s wearing a batman costume now, half-assed but recognizable enough. at least he has on the mask. 

you squint at the last man in the group and frown. your gaze drops back down to your phone. 

in the second row of photos is a carousel full of pictures of this pink-haired brute. sukuna, the apparent team captain. his personal account is tagged, but it seems too professional to you, public and polished to perfection for recruiters. 

anyways. he’s here. at your halloween party. wearing an outfit you deem completely unacceptable. 

you down the rest of your (sixth) drink and toss the empty can onto the kitchen counter before making your way towards the group of men, wobbly as ever.

gojo is the first one to notice you. “hey,” he beams, “cool party.” he puts his arm around the guy with the mustache—shiu—and wiggles his eyebrows. “you like our costumes?”

you ignore him, something you wouldn’t do sober, but you’re on a mission. 

you point at sukuna, jabbing your nail into his chest. “where the fuck is your costume?”

sukuna glances down at your finger, then your costume, then your face. “you don’t see the jersey? i’m a fuckin’ hockey player.”

you pull back your hand, disgusted. “first of all, drop the attitude, mister. second of all, that’s not a costume. you’re on the hockey team.”

someone snickers. the one dressed as batman, you think, but you don’t turn around to check. sukuna’s face morphs through a few different emotions—amusement, annoyance, astonishment. he eventually settles on agitation, pissed that he hasn’t even gotten the chance to get some liquor in his system before dealing with bullshit like this.

“you wanna talk about costumes? you’re wearing underwear and a robe,” he says, gesturing towards you with a dismissive wave. 

you gasp and plant your hands on your hips. “this isn’t just underwear, idiot. it’s lingerie. i’m wearing a garter belt, for fuck’s sake. and thigh highs! plus you forgot about my hat?”

you use your entire arm to point at gojo. “who am i dressed as, dick-in-a-box boy?”

his face is flushed from laugher. “sexy hugh hefner. obviously.”

you throw your arm up in the air and let it fall against your thigh with a smack, not noticing the murderous glare sukuna sends towards gojo. someone somewhere turns down the music a bit.

“see!” you exclaim, addressing sukuna once again. “this is clearly a Sexy Costume™. and you know what else makes it a costume? i would never just leave my house like this on a typical day. it’s not a regular outfit in the slightest.” you speak slowly, wanting to make sure he understands every word. 

“you wanna know what makes this Not a costume?” you continue, still talking slow as you wag your finger up and down sukuna’s body. “it’s a regular-degular outfit. literally anyone can put on that campus store-bought jersey and wear it with those jeans on a normal day.”

sukuna starts to speak, but you cut him off. “didn't you see the sign out front? ‘no costume, no entry.’”

his jaw ticks. his right eye twitches. “yeah, i saw the fucking sign. i don’t-”

“oh, great,” you interrupt. “so you don’t know what a costume is and you can’t read. perfect. that hockey scholarship must be doing a lot of heavy lifting, huh?”

even in your inebriated state, you immediately know that was the wrong thing to say. the little crowd that gathered to watch your back-and-forth takes a collective inhale. sukuna looks downright irate, fists clenched at his sides as a storminess settles over his face. 

gojo lets out a long and low whistle, the kind that cartoon bombs make right before they hit the ground and explode. he pats your shoulder twice before abandoning you altogether. the rest of the crowd follows, leaving you to contend with this bear you repeatedly poked.

the music returns to its original volume, but it sounds like the speaker has been moved. away from you and closer to the living room.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, but you swear you can see literal steam coming out of sukuna’s ears. you sway on your feet a bit, waiting for him to say something. a thought occurs to you as you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and breathe deeply, but you keep it to yourself, screwing up your lips in a physical attempt to keep from digging your grave further.

sukuna didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. he actually mentioned the sign out front to the guys before they came in, trying to use it as an excuse for him to go home. his plan was to make an appearance, drink a beer, and then escape after thirty minutes. but here you are, this drunk stranger yelling at him for being dressed like a normal fucking person. the urge to stay strikes him. he wants to linger just to piss you off. 

“are you done?” he asks you.

you cross your arms. “are you leaving?”

“no.”

“then no.”

just as you’re about to dig into him again, sukuna’s thinning patience snaps.

“stop being a fucking bitch about this, alright? just relax. you’re acting fucking crazy.”

your jaw unhinges itself and you stand there, gawking. sukuna seems about ready to walk away, cracking his knuckles and looking somewhere behind you. your eyes land on his cheek, reddened and ready for a smack. you draw your arm back, wanting to make sure you gave him a slap that stings—and he catches it mid-air.

“are you serious?” he scoffs. you glance at your hand, his fingers around your wrist, the scowl etched into his face.

he glowers at you, not letting go when you try to shake your arm free. so you do the next logical thing.

you spit on him.

a glob of your saliva lands just below his eye. you smirk, satisfied. he drops your arm and curses, lifting the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face. then you make your first smart decision of the night and turn around, running back to where the rest of the party is to hide amongst the bodies.

he yells after you, but it’s drowned out by your giggles and the sound of chatter as you get nearer, bumping into countertops and side tables on the way.

someone pats your back and puts a drink in your hand. you pray you never have to see the captain of the hockey team again. 

tags. @nonamevenus @lavenderdaydream97 @rinofcike @gdamnackerman

[filthweb]

I think this thirst will barely be considered dark, but I think it still fits the vibe of your blog, if not, no worries.

Sooo, imagine you meet these two charming young men, Satoru and Suguru. Satoru is head over heels for you, but you only have eyes for Suguru. Suguru has a thing for you too but by the time he realizes he'd already promised Satoru he'd help him get a date with you.

You have a cute friend movie date with them both at your place but unfortunately Satoru had something come up. He makes Suguru go anyway to hype him up. Not even halfway through the movie you're in Suguru's lap making out with him.

He pulls away "We shouldn't be doing this, I promised Satoru I'd help him get a date with you."

You grind your hips against his "Is that what you want? Me to go on a date with your friend?"

"No, but I also don't want to be a bad friend."

"Hmm, how about this, I promise I'll go on a date with Satoru, but ONLY if you promise fuck me after."

What he doesn't know can't hurt him right? So, after your cute cafe date with Satoru, he calls Suguru to gush about how perfect you are, how you might be the one, all the while Suguru is biting his lip trying to make sure he doesn't moan as you're riding him.

How long do you think the two of you can keep this going? Eventually Satoru is going to want to sleep with you, right? I mean, he's already got the names picked out for your future children. But Suguru has your heart (and pussy) and the thrill of sneaking around is so hot.

Will guilt get to Suguru before Satoru catches on?

shit i can't be caught posting this

okay but suguru had been doting on you before satoru confessed it out loud to him. despite the cool popular guy persona, satoru is a pussy in asking girls out. especially if someone's as pretty as you so he sends geto as his wingman. little did he know...

you are on the sofa with sugu while toru is arguing on the phone with someone.

"i gotta go. i am so sorry guys." and you don't even try to make him stay. you were hoping to be alone with geto (so did he deep down somewhere)

when it's just you two, you are so hyperfocused with each movement you make, not even remembering the storyline of the movie. you shift closer and closer to get till your thighs touch. your skins do too. one things lead to another and now you're straddling on his lap, making out sloppily, like a greedy bunny.

"fuck we shouldn't. he really likes you, baby."

"you can't say that and call me baby in the same sentence. c'mon sugu...i can feel it against my pussy, y'know? i know you wanna," you argue. he tries to debate but you're quicker,

"alright. i'll go out with him. but only if you..."you guide his hands to your pussy, "fuck her."

with that, all remorse and guilt was swallowed like he swallow curses. he needed you. this will never reach him anyways. toru gets a date and you both get to fuck. everyone wins.

but it was so hard to keep it down. your date with satoru was great but only because you were daydreaming about suguru fucking you after.

gojo calls him up, telling him how you were so sweet and all. geto has the phone on speaker, so you both can feel how wrong this is and how much it turns you in even more. suguru moans a few times but toru doesn't notice because he is busy yapping about you. you shove your tits in his mouth to keep him from making sounds, only removing so he can answer an eventual "hmm"

a few seconds later, satoru goes silent...the call is still on though? fuck did he catch on?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[candyheartedchy]

Saw a post talking about this, but I didn’t want to reblog and ramble in the tags of said post, so I’m bring it up here about the whole situation when it comes to people messaging first or not when it comes to their friends.

I struggle a lot with anxiety and constantly worrying that I’m bothering people when I reach out to talk first that 97% of the time I end up not messaging people at all. I’ve been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone when it comes to this, and getting better, when it comes to sending the first message because I want to let folks know that I do genuinely enjoy our conversations and want to be friends with them. But because of my past situations I end up falling back into the habit of isolating myself because I’m familiar with doing it to cope.

In a way I want to let folks know that when they message me first, I’m always excited to hear from them! And also to reassure anyone that may worry about bothering me. I promise y’all aren’t. There will be times that my text pattern might be different in tone, but that’s just me being tired and awkward.

Heck I’m always surprise when anyone really wants to talk to me in general because I usually get ignored irl. And if I’m being honest, I see a lot of you as my friends, but I’m always nervous to bring up the title because I’m not sure if it’s just one sided or I’m just projecting out of loneliness. So whenever someone says we’re friends I get caught off guard because I haven’t had any in so long.

Basically this is just me throwing in my two cents about people who try to test their friendship on how much people really care or not when it comes to who’s messaging first. I do agree that both parties should try to reach out to each other as much as they can to let each other know they do care. But I also want to bring up that a lot of times most of us struggle with reaching out due to trauma that relates to past friendships not going well and worrying about having those same experiences again. But also lot of folks are afraid to reach out first because they don’t want to embarrass themselves when it comes to making friends or losing that chance because they never had the experience of having a friend before. And I’m saying this from my own experience.

In the end I think if you really care about your friends, just communicate. And reassure the ones that reach out first that even though you struggle with talking, you still appreciate them and also just remind them that you like them because they worry about bothering you too. Because most of us don’t have any friends irl and our online friends are all we have. So even when others try to say that online friendships don’t count, they are missing the whole point of what friendships really is.

[forbebeandjam]

Your Fan | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | fluff, flirty

Summary: after some trauma. You’ve never been a fan of dance or music but your friends convinces her to go to a dance concert for your youtube channel. The video ends up being a big success becuse of Bada’s flirty eyes.

Word Count: 986

No warnings.

Prompt by @chloebebewebe I really hope you like it!! 🤍 it’s kinda simple 🥹

“I can spot you amongst the crowd…”

-

It was a bright sunny day. Many would take this opportunity to go out and have fun. You however, were stuck inside of your dark room slumped on your couch.

You let out a loud grunt and another scrunched paper flew across the room. As a content creator, you were expected to upload content weekly or biweekly but the week had drowned you with school finals and social events you had to attend to and you completely forgot to plan something for the week.

You heard your door open and you tired to look at your friends staring at you from the door frame.

“Y/N, we told you to be ready by six. What are you doing?” One of your friends said as she started to pick up the papers from the floor.

“You’ll have to go without me. I am really struggling right now. I think I need a nap,” you said as you flung another balled paper across your room.

“What’s the matter? Still struggling with this week’s video??” Your other friend said as she picked up the wrinkled paper.

“Yes! And I need to film today or I’ll be doomed!” You said trying to sink further into the fluffy black carpet.

“Try not to laugh challenge? Y/N, these ideas suck…” you friend said

“I KNOW!! What do I do?” You kicked like a child.

“I have an idea!!” Your friend said.

“We could take you to that dance concert you refused to go. You film for content and then post that. You’ve never done a vlog before!” She said.

You grunted. You were never a fan of concerts and music. You had never been fond of any because you were forced to do recitals and competitions as a child and you grew to hate it.

The only reason you would tolerate music was to pick the perfect sounds for your videos and even then, your friends usually did that for you.

“I don’t think I’d wanna go to that place. I really hate things like that,” you said.

“Oh, come on! This will be great for your channel. If it gets too overwhelming, we can leave and we’ll help you film something else,”

You thought about it for a few seconds. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all. So you took the opportunity and as soon as you said yes, your friends got to work.

They ended up dressing you in a pretty dress and shoes. They fixed your hair and forced you to do your makeup. You packed your vlog camera and started to make your way to the car.

“Before we get there, how is this going to work?” You pulled out your camera and started to film.

“We’ll get there and get our bands. Sometimes we get a little souvenir and I got us front row so we’ll get a good view of all the dancers,” one of your friends said.

You began to do your work and filmed clips of anything and everything. You got to the place and did just as your friends told you to.

Suddenly, the concert started. You never stopped filming and you tried your best to enjoy it. The dancers were absolutely amazing and you obviously cheered them on but you couldn’t help but feel a gaze on you.

Every time the dancers would stop and talk to the crowd, a certain girls gaze would fixate on you. At first you thought you were going crazy but as the time passed it became more evident.

The camera always switched between you and the stage but her gaze was never lifted off you. After the concert, both of your friends wanted to greet the dancers and send them off. Of course they dragged you with them making you hold on to the railing.

Soon enough, the tall woman that was once looking at you from the stage, immediately spotted you in the yelling crowd as if hypnotized my you. She walked right up to you and held your hand.

You were taken aback by her actions and you didn’t know if it was the warmth of her hand or her sweet smiled that made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for coming out to support us. It means a lot to have such a star like you here,” then it hit you. That wasn’t any dancer. That was Bada Lee. Renowned choreographer and winner of Street Woman Fighter 2. And she knew who you were.

Your face turned a soft shade if pink and butterflies filled your stomach.

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I really enjoyed every bit of it. Thank you for having us,” you said. Her hand never leaving yours and she started to caressed your hand with her thumb.

You felt your knees almost buckle at her actions and you swallowed the knot in your throat.

“Hope to see you again soon,” Bada said before slowly walking away not letting go of your hand till she was far away and finally had to let go.

You took a deep breath and smiled.

“Looks like someone is starting to grow fond of dance, huh?” Your friend said.

“More like growing fond of the dancer,” they giggled and you pushed them aside.

But they were right.

You didn’t want to admit it but something about Bada… more like everything about Bada made you want more. You wanted to find a way to be closer to her even for a few seconds more…

You ended up editing and uploading the video to your YouTube channel as a vlog and in a matter of hours it had tons of views and shares.

Your clips were all over Bada’s fan pages on Twitter, TikTok, instagram, and much more. All crediting you and using funny captions or imagine captions.

All you could do was giggle and hope that you’d get to see the tall girl again.

Thank you for reading!🩵

[woozinhos]

Save a horse,Ride a cowboy Teaser

notes: I decided to take your guys advice and start to write a little longer fics and I’ve always been in love with cowboys so I thought I’d give you all the teaser before I go to sleep I will be posting the full thing in the morning enjoy :)

FULL FIC OUT NOW

Mingyu's eyes raked over your body as you approached him, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, tipping his hat back with one hand. "Looks like I've caught myself a pretty little thing."

He stepped closer, his tall frame towering over you as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"What's a delicate thing like you doing all alone out here in the middle of nowhere?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze.

Mingyu chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"You look like you need a little bit of...company," he murmured, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to rest on your waist.

"And what kind of company do you think I need, cowboy?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the heat pooling in your core.

Mingyu's eyes darkened at your words, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you closer to him.

"The kind that will make you forget all about being a delicate little thing," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "The kind that will make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your hip, and it only served to heighten your own desire.

Mingyu's lips grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver through your body.

"I can make you feel things you've never even dreamed of," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Are you ready for that, darlin'?"

You fumble with your hands hands and look up to him.

“My daddy wouldn’t like this sir,” You smirk looking at him.

Mingyu chuckled darkly, his hand sliding lower to grab your ass.

"Well, princess," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I ain't much for obeying rules. Especially when it comes to a pretty thing like you."

He spun you around and pressed you against the nearest wall, his body trapping you between the hard surface and his muscular frame.

"I think your daddy would have to get used to the idea of sharing you," he growled, his lips trailing a path down your jawline.

His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"I'm going to make you mine," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "And there's nothing your daddy can do about it."

Mingyu's lips found yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth as he claimed you for his own.

He pressed his body flush against yours, the hard planes of his muscles molding against your curves.

You could feel the evidence of his arousal growing harder against your stomach, and you couldn't help but grind against him in response.

Mingyu let out a low growl, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your neck.

"You're so damn needy," he muttered, his hands roaming over your hips and thighs. "And I love it."

You gasp at the feeling of Mingyu on your neck.

“My daddy will be home soon I have to work in the stables”

Mingyu chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

"You're daddy's gonna be home soon, huh?" he murmured, his hands continuing to explore your body. "Too bad. Looks like you're going to be busy for a while."

Mingyu let out a frustrated groan, his grip on you tightening.

"The stables can wait," he grumbled, his lips tracing a path down to the valley between your breasts. "I'm not done with you yet."

He sank to his knees in front of you, his hands skimming up your thighs as he looked up at you with a hungry gaze.

"Besides," he said, his voice low and husky. "I think I have a much better way to keep you occupied."

[httpsdana]

Please, make a hc model!reader x bfKenan Yildiz

Boyfriend Headcanon~Kenan Yildiz x Model!Reader

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

❖bf! Kenan is the type to be your biggest supporter. If he ever sees a billboard of you he'll take a picture and post it on his story, captioning it “my queen”

❖bf! Kenan is the type to have interest in your fashion world. He loves when you give him fashion advice, making his fits look sharper and more presentable.

❖bf! Kenan is the type to love attending events with you, knowing all he gets to do is stand by your side while you shine on your own.

❖bf! Kenan is the type to love mimicking your runway walk at home, though it's it's always done with pure admiration. He would strut dramatically into the living room, posing s he stood in front of you before saying, “you think they'd hire me as your partner?”

❖bf! Kenan is the type to always give you gentle compliments. He knows how hard the modelling industry can be, so he's always there to remind you how far you've come and how you've inspired others, never forgetting to mention how beautiful you always look, even after facing criticism.

❖bf! Kenan is the type to plan the most romantic getaways. With both of your busy schedules, you barely get any special time together, so he always makes sure this time is perfectly planned to help you both unwind after your busy weeks.

❖bf! Kenan is the type to always be cheering from afar. When he can’t attend your shows, he stays glued to live streams or Instagram updates, sending you live commentary like, “That dress is insane, but you’re the star of it!”

❖bf! Kenan is the type to always be next to you when getting ready for an important event. He has a ritual of helping you get ready. He’s the one zipping up your dresses, complimenting you endlessly, and making sure you have everything you need.

[windvexer]

But considering then that maybe one should learn a form of banishing, just in case, but doesn't relate to the golden down practices, what could be a practice of banishing that is more connected to witchcraft ?

We are in reference to this ask about whether or not the LBRP is required learning for all sorcerers & practitioners (it is not).

Someone asked me for my opinions and I'm giving them! Please understand this to be a post full of my personal opinions and methods.

I think a fine way to regard any practical sorcery is to consider it to be a mundane action extended into the spirit world.

Therefore the best way for a witch to deal with banishment is to ask what you if you were in a nice Studio Ghibli anime where magic is tangible. If a rambunctious pig spirit were tearing through your house, knocking over furniture, what would you do?

Banish for your needs based on what you have. Any banishment spell is better than no banishment spell. Here are a few for the intrepid witch:

Ask It To Leave

This is a good starting operation, especially if you have ethical concerns. Especially helpful for troublesome household spirits and energies.

Go to where It is. If that is not possible, create a sympathetic image (drawing, sigil, poppet, etc.; then correctly consecrated*).

Speak to the image and tell it firmly and sternly to leave. Do not ask, do not show your belly. "You have got to stop coming to morning meetings, Greg. You have better things to do and you are not helping. I am sick and tired of hearing you before lunch, Greg. Stop doing it."

Open the Door and Smack It With a Broom

Another good starting operation, but you must have access to the location; best reserved for spirits or intruders.

Open all the doors and windows you can. Speak a prayer over the broom, vacuum, or mop; invite it to cast off its lampshade and glow with the vigor of four hundred generations of exasperated grandmothers.

Sweep out the house, all the while staying intent on the idea that the intruder is going to be chased out.

Close doors and windows after, as desired.

(Modifications on the above: blessed water in a spray bottle, rolled up newspaper swatting the air, and so forth; the studious witch will observe that if a place is consecrated to be other than what it is, things on other strands of fate can be swept away.)

Cast Dispel Magic (wizard 3 abjuration)

A fine early step, but it draws a line in the sand. It's more like a temporary ward, but it'll do in a pinch. It's also energy intensive, but requires no materials.

Using energy work, root yourself down into the earth. Call up a great deal of power from the earth into your body.

Coalesce a ball of power in your abdomen (or wherever suits you best; you must already know how to work energy in this matter to use this method).

In your preferred method, program the energy to be immensely banishing; envisioning ultraviolet flame can work well.

Expand the ball of energy outwards from your center so that it grows and eclipses the space around you, sending the unwanted thing out and away.

If possible, then work the far boundary of the energy sphere to become like a wall that can't be crossed over again.

Call the Magistrate

Not so harsh, but certainly drawing a line in the sand. This can be performed not only on spirits or intruders, but also on situations (to banish unfair treatment, etc), on people, and so forth.

Take one or three dried Bay Laurel leaves, or the equivalent crumbled. Say, think, or sign, "Bay Laurel, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to the Sun, all the while envisioning that the leaves begin to glow with an immensely bright light, as if you're staring at the sun.

At the completion of the hymn, politely address the leaves and explain to them exactly what you would like chased away. Ensure you clarify if this thing may come back later, or never at all, and how far away from you it should go.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

Use charcoal disks or your preferred method to burn the leaves. This should be done as close as possible to the thing intended to be banished. If burning is not an option, put them in some tap water and boil it on the stove until the scent diffuses.

(To further energize: read the hymn between three and nine times, each time following up with fervent prayers)

Call the Mob

Harsh. For use when you do not want to be polite. Can be directed at anything, but be sure there is no concern of behavior escalating; this is an aggravating spell.

Take one or three dried red peppers, or a teaspoon of red pepper flakes. Say, think, or sign, "Red Peppers, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to Mars, all the while envisioning that the peppers ignite into a black and scarlet flame that's like hellfire.

At the completion of the hymn, rambunctiously address the peppers and explain to them exactly what you'd like chased away. Encourage the peppers to chase after the thing like the baying hounds of hell, to chase it to the ends of the earth, and past the earth, and so far away that the thing cannot be returned.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

You should not burn the peppers at all unless you can do so outside, because breathing in pepper smoke is Bad. But fire greatly improves this operation. If possible, arrange the peppers around a candle and burn the candle to activate the spell. Otherwise, use the simmer pot method.

---

*Consecrated: In this context, to assign a new magical identity, purpose, and fate. This may be done organically during its creation, or all at once with a ritual. A poppet shouldn't be used in sympathetic magic until it has been magically given the true identity of the thing you want it to represent.

[mothman-etd]

hello 👋🏼

first loving the twiyor 😌

second I have a tech question I was hoping you might be able and willing to answer: are the 'we send you a link to your email to log in instead of using your password' actually more secure or are businesses just being mean to me personally?

hope your day is kind 😊

Ok so Authentication (going to call it auth going forward) is a very large topic and there is some baseline info I want to convey before answering you question.

First, auth breaks down into 3 methods. Confirming what someone knows, confirming what someone has, confirming what someone is.

What you know: this is the traditional password method, do you remember your password you made for us? Do you remember your username? great you can get in if you know those. Stealing these creds is very straight forward, you either guess until you are right or you steal them from where someone has them stored/written down. This is why you should NEVER store your password in a browser and use a password manager instead. I would rather see people write passwords on post-it notes then store them in Google Chrome or Edge. Seriously, it is incredibly easy to steal passwords from Chrome.

What you have: have ever been asked to put an MFA pin into a phone app? that's this method, they are putting predictable generated numbers on your phone that you can then turn around and use to prove you are in physical possession of your phone. This is much more difficult to steal and usually requires physically accessing a phone or infecting it in some fashion to steal the generation algorithm. PS: If a site uses a text message instead of an app to send a pin that is less secure because SIM duplicating is easier then both the above methods for theft (i dont know the details on how to sim dup but I know no good security team takes sms pins seriously)

What you are: This is stuff like Apple's face id, windows hello, finger scan. Anything that is unique to your physical body that can be scanned to confirm who you are. This is either incredibly difficult or super easy to break depending on how the program is written. for example Face ID had an issue where it could not differentiate between particular ethnicities, also someone (the police) can just hold your phone up to force the unlock. This is usually a good method to use in conjunction with one of the others to make Auth more difficult.

So which one is better? Well each one has its pros and cons which means the most secure method is using more then one. This is called Multi Factor Authentication or MFA for short.

So lets go back to your question, is getting a login link more secure then say remembering a password. Well how secure is access to your email? if your email just requires a username and password to get into, then it is the same security level.

If you have your email setup with MFA where you need to password and pin into it then it is probably more secure then some random sites username password pair.

Also we need to ask questions about the links themselves, do you get the same link each time or is a new one created each request? How are they generated? how long until a link expires? is the link email sent via TLS? Which version of TLS? How are they stored or Are they stored? Is link generation predictable, if I had enough info could i just make my own links for any user?

Honestly I think the biggest benefit of this auth method happens on the website side and less the end user side. This requires less development to create, also they do not need to figure out how to store and keep your passwords, and if they get hacked there are no passwords to be stolen since they literally don't use them. Having passwords stolen is when law enforcement needs to get involved (Law enforcement needs to be contacted in the event any Personally Identifiable Information or PII is stolen). So if they do not use passwords that is one less PII they have in their possession.

Overall passwords are shit and anyone trying to make an effort to not use passwords or to not allow just passwords is at least making an effort to have a better security posture. But if it is actually more secure really depends, passwordless is new territory for a lot of people so its going to have growing pains.

hopefully this answers your question! if you want more clarification let me know.

Oh and Spy Family is life

[utilitycaster]

in looking for posts about the end of C2 I found a self-inflicted ask meme (called that) in which I asked people to send wish items for C3 and first off, once we do have a hard episode count for C3 I might run something similar because it was fun, but also, looking through, some notes:

Laura playing a sorcerer was rather popular, as was Marisha as a high-Charisma character

Issylra setting REALLY popular...we got a smidge I suppose but this was not really a Continent In Depth campaign

people did want to see Travis as a lycan blood hunter, AND in some cases older characters

Lots of interest in an aeormaton too!

I really wanted to see Sam as a cleric, which is funny because I spent the first 30 episodes pissed off at FCG's execution but I DID come around, so. hat consumed.

why do people care so much about the seating arrangement. bestie i could not give a shit.

I think this campaign also made me go from "previously knowing each other can be good but I'm not interested in more twins, we've moved past that" to "let's keep the prior relationships either brief or like. require you submit a 10 page essay of backstory so we don't get some empty bullshit"

people REALLY liked wild magic barbarian so the fact that Taliesin and Matt were explicitly like "it sucks ass" is funny to me, a person who's neutral on it.

a lot of people wanted Travis as Tabaxi and I hate this and they got mad but I'm right and sexy and ready to have a long mean conversation with you about the anti-ableism leaving people's bodies when it comes to severe allergies.

3+ years and I still hate changelings and kalashtar I'm sexy and right on this one too

someone wanted a horse girl but a cavalier fighter; Imogen's horse girliness sort of didn't really have much time to be a thing (this is not a judgement, this is just, they weren't riding horses much bc of the nature of the campaign) and I would like a cavalier

*ironic laugh* multiple people wanting Laura specifically to play evil aligned.

people really wanted circle of spores for liam. there were a lot of repeats frankly that made no sense to me and i never got the answer. was there a server or something.

Travis INT or WIS caster when

Bard Ashley when

Sam's character should be taller than Travis's ACHIEVED FOR ALL BUT FCG & BERTRAND. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

everyone was like WELL OBVIOUSLY the cast will play elves for the sleep reasons and then no one did.

the specter of a Shadowgast child had already risen unfortunately. before the relationship was fully confirmed no less.

spelljammer fans are not intellectual to put it mildly

please GOD not everything has to be self-referential in-jokes. use your mind.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Damn that ivy fic hurt so good I need another.

How about ivy x reader but iii is in love with reader too but always thought she only loved him as an older brother but on a random friday she‘s tipsy and confessed to him that she had a huge crush on him but he never made a move but ivy did and she eventually fell in love with him?

Love in depths of silence

iii had always been a class clown. Never cared much for it. Never cared that he looked silly or unserious. He enjoyed it. Letting his bubbly personality show. It was him being his true self just… minus the deeply loving and caring side. When you had walked in with just as much sas he knew you were gonna get along just fine. And boy had he underestimated.

Crew often joked that you two should never be left alone unsupervised because if not one then the other was dancing on top of the tables or trying to prove that one could lift the leg higher than the other. There was constant laughter with you. Genuine one. One that made him giddy inside for hours as he thought back on it. But there was also a deeper part to this. One where you two would only have to look at one another to feel it. The pull. The slowly growing desire. They say that eyes never lied and in this case, they did the most talking.

When the flirting started it was hard to distinguish it from silly banter. So the push and pull started. That night in London after the fully sold-out arena happened. The thrill of it all. The buzzing in the air. The pins and needles in the fingers. The dim back room. iii’s hand in your hair as he pressed you against the wall. That kiss had it all. The longing. The desire. The love blossoming in silence. You had been the outlet and then when he had seen your big eyes looking back at him as he pulled away. He had panicked. Fully panicked he spewed something about this being a mistake as he stumbled back into the main room.

It had all shifted after that. For a handful of weeks, you two had fully ignored each other. iii knew that he had to be the one who had to take the first step. But how do you make a comeback after that? So he waited. Watched. You slowly went back to a somewhat similar banter. And after thinking of it for days he had finally bit the dust and went up to your hotel room. Palms sweating as he waited for you to answer. “Hey”, your cheeks were flushed, only a button-up jacket over your frame. “Hi, I was…”, iii frowned slightly as he let himself drink you in. “I…”, “Baby, who is that?”, that voice alone sends iii’s heart falling to his feet. “Did you need something?”, you asked softly but all iii can focus on now are the rustling sheets and the sound of footsteps. His shirtless bandmate walking from the back side of the room. “Hey, dude what’s up?”, iv says casually pulling his pants back up. iii honestly felt like laughing. No, the first reaction was to punch iv actually but he knew he had no right to so he had to back away. “Can’t seem to find my phone, thought that I maybe…”, iii was quick to shrug, “Actually maybe I do know where it could be”. And he’s turning so quickly he’s surprised he doesn’t tumble.

It was one agony-filled pretend fest after that. His only salvation was that you two didn’t seem too keen on public affection but even then fate would pull him to you. Making sure he would end up in the back room just as you were straddling iv, kissing him. Eyes falling to your interlinked fingers as you walked back to the bus. Ivy’s clothes you wore. He had a feeling that he could have had that. That it had been right there but he had fucked it.

And he had thought that he was starting to get over it. That he would move on. Make peace with it. Should have known it was a fool’s dream. The moment you stepped into the pub for that post-tour celebration. All iii could do was look at you. The lace dress. The heels. You were a vision. A fucking apparition he had been chasing for months now. One that had given him a fleeting hug before settling on iv’s lap.

“You’re quiet”, you nudged his shoulder as most of the guys had taken it upon themselves to either go dance or refill everyone’s drinks. “Just tired”, iii shrugged. You were inches apart. He could feel the warmth from your body. Smell your perfume. Then you just let out a giggle as you shook your head. “What’s so funny?”, he asked turning to you slightly. “Just… you know I had the biggest crush on you”, you mussed still shaking your head, “and I still think that you’re an ass for what you did”. iii wrapped his hand around his glass tightly, “I apologized”, “Did you?”, you asked bitterly. “I was pinning after you like an idiot and then you had pretty much called me one too”, you sighed, staring ahead. “Ever thought about the fact that maybe I had feelings for you too?”, iii bit back. “Oh, please”, you rolled your eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for months and I fucking blew it all out the window”, iii put his glass down on the table running a hand over his face. “Iii”, “Don’t give me that pity party boo shit”, he grumbled pushing out of the booth. “Don’t you fucking walk away”, you hissed following after him just his steps were a lot bigger and faster. “Iii this is your last warning”, you grunted as you both pushed into the called night. “Or what?”, he turned back harshly. You two were all up in each other’s faces at this point. “Or I will let go and you will never be able to reach me”, you whispered. “Go back inside”, iii said coldly, “your boyfriend is looking for you no doubt”. “You’re being an asshole again”, you muttered. “Just let me go”, he shook his head, stepping backwards. “Do you really want me so bad if you’re walking away for the second time?”, you muttered bitterly. “You don’t know shit about it”, iii shook his head, walking away.

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 21st Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Howdy everyone!! How are we doing today? It’s soooo close to the end of writemas we only have like 3 days left!! Crazy. If you are still interested in seeing the rules or wanna join here is the invite post! Today these are my prompts! <3

Prompts used:

Feeling: The hum of song

Narration: She watched the clouds swirl and dance high up in the sky, as free as the birds playing in their midst, as free as she would never be.

Today is going to be a little short because I’ve been a bit busy this week somehow. Have more Aerlyra because she is awesome and I love her to death :D And oops I got a little angsty on this one.

Read about the WIP here!!

Enjoy! Sending love to you all <3

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Aerlyra sat at the edge of her chair, peering into the small, silver mirror that laid on the table in front of her, watching herself at work. Interviewing her curly, dark hair together was certainly a huge task for her to do. It was quite monotonous work. Each coarse tendril rubbed against her fingers so much that they were going numb. Looping one strand at a time of her black hair over another—repeating it again with the next strand to its side—into an intricate pattern, as she had to do three times over for each braid on her head. So much effort went into braiding together the thick strands. Arguably too much for its results.

Finishing one of the braids on the side of her head, she stopped for a moment to take a look in the mirror at her progress. Only two of the three braids were completed, with the hardest one in the back and the other on the side finally done. Aerlyra let out a sigh of relief. Almost over. She picked up the mirror on her table to inspect herself further, wiping away the curly stragglers off of her light face. The mirror proved that her work so far was serviceable, but nothing too unusual from its usual quality. She was just going to work then home again anyways, and it wouldn’t be all that visible from her from her winter coat’s fuzzy hood. 

Looking at her work from the reflection, she closed her eyes. She tried to just forget what it looked like. Perfection just brings pain, but yet, deep down, she still so desperately craved it. No matter how much she denied it. But, she knew she could never be, she was not even close to being perfect. It’s been proven time and time again. It was a hard truth she had to swallow, that she wasn’t going anywhere now, that she was a wash-up. 

Keeping her eyes closed, she placed back down the tiny mirror. She began to hum a song as she started on the last section of her unbraided to her right. She wasn’t sure where she heard the song. Music doesn’t come far enough to seek her here. Not many things did anymore. It was her own choosing, anyway. Tears welled in her eyes as she opened them to look at herself when her thoughts got louder.

Glancing out the window before she got up to get dressed, she watched the clouds swirl and dance high up in the sky, as free as the birds playing in their midst, as free as she would never be. She knew it, the tears reinforced that. It was the same as life back home. Nobody is ever truly free. The very thing she wanted to escape, or rather run from, had followed her all the way to her tiny cabin in the expansive woods, just outside of a nobody town that not even a Queensman bothered to occupy. 

Queensman. How she loathed that word. Not for what it stood for, but for what it became to her. Just another thing she didn’t have the guts to do. Another thing she failed to do. The taste of the word in her mouth made her feel worthless for even trying. 

Smearing the trails of tears off of her white face as she finished her hair, she threw herself off the chair, toppling over the chair along with her, and steeled herself for the upcoming day ahead of her. She couldn’t be late for work, she would like to eat that night.

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

(PLEASE tell me if you wanna get added to a tag list here because I genuinely don't know who to tag lol. I'll edit this and add you in!! <3 )

TAGLIST SO FAR: @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

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Our wonderful host <3 → @agirlandherquill Have a lovely day everyone!!

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 1

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 779

Written: 21st December 2024

Notes: This is the first fanfic I've posted, it's not proofread, I don't know how many chapters there will be. Pray for me. Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

It's one thing to take their government mandated holidays, as a hunter. It feels wrong, they know they need to take time off. People need breaks. If they don't rest, they fray. As a hunter, being sloppy means letting someone get hurt.

They know that.

Still... they've never been good at taking time off. It was easier with their family around, if Caleb hadn't dragged them home occasionally, they'd have burned themselves out frequently.

Now they just face the disapproving looks of their dear doctor... who is far less enthused, but far too professional to do any dragging.

It's another thing when their favourite captain tells them to go home because they look like shit. Alright, maybe not in that many words, but the sentiment was there. They try to imagine Jenna cursing and while it feels right, they also feel like they've seen something they really shouldn't.

She's right though, they muse. Dark circles, clothing tattering, ache in limbs.

If they'd been asked when they last took a holiday... well they couldn't answer.

Tara nudges them, warm smile on her face, "I'll text you. Go sleep." And with a warm hand on their back, she pushes them towards the door.

They're tempted to look for Xavier to say goodbye for the day, but it's late and he could be anywhere. (Though they're willing to bet he's stolen a break room for a nap.)

Instead they leave the Hunters Association, standing in the street below, staring up at the holiday decorations lining the street. It's cold enough that their teeth chatter...

And they come face to face with the loneliness of being stood here, an empty home and the knowledge that all their loved ones are still busy, working, wrapping everything up.

They could go visit Zayne, but he's got such an important job they don't want to intrude. (The voice in their head that sounds a bit like his tries to remind them they could never intrude.) They could message Xavier, but if he's finally resting they'd had to disturb him. (They never could, he's pleased whenever they spend time with him or join him for a nap.) They could go check in on Rafayel, but he's preparing for an exhibit and they don't want to break his creative flow. (How could they when they're his muse? The reason he found purpose in a paintbrush again.)

Instead they stand and stew and struggle. Internally debating how much they can exist in a space, before a caw snaps them out of their shuddering. Arms wrapped around them through the too thin coat, not at all built for the snow and chill.

Mephie perches on their shoulder, his red eyes gleaming. They're hit with the strange feeling that the robot bird knows and sees far more than he should, before the non metal feathers puff up, snuggling into the crook of their neck.

In seconds all the tense strain in their limbs ease up, and they breathe out a long exhale. "Hey." They manage, forcing their teeth to stop chattering and their smile comes gently.

They're unsure if it's for the birds benefit, or for his owner, but they realise it doesn't matter. Both bring unrivalled comfort.

Their new companion, caws again, tone deaf and glitchy, before clacking his beak at them. Extending his foot, a small message tied to it.

Why Sylus doesn't send them messages in any normal way, they'll never understand. He enjoys phone calls, texts them constantly, but whenever he wants to be dramatic, in flies Mephisto with a letter or a note, on a blaze of feathers and metal.

Gently, they untie it, patting the pretty bird's head as they do so with one hand.

He preens and coos at them happily, glitchy static and very real pleasure at their attention.

'You have time off. I'm booking it for the week.'

They'd question how he knows, but he always seems to know. They should find it creepy, but they've since learned if he doesn't watch their back constantly, people who want them hurt do.

Perhaps they've grown too soft on him, his attentions, his affection, his constantly presence, but they find it more soothing than unnerving.

Still. They would like to know how many ways he's keeping track of them.

If only for the curiousity lurking under their skin, one of the traits he teases them for.

"I guess you're my accompaniment then Mephie?" The bird puffs up, proud and preening, and he looks far too much like his prideful master for a moment for them to not chuckle. As their guide kicks up into the sky, flying off, they follow him a little lighter.